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spring-siblings · 3 days ago

Text

"You hate yourself. I hate myself. Common interests."

For @thehistoricalbook for @narlieweek Osemanverse Secret Santa. Happy holidays! Hope you enjoy!

Ace of Hearts | A Solitaire fanfic

I immediately regret opening the text.

Michael: wanna go to the cinema on monday?

It is ridiculous that such a seemingly innocuous question could get me so worked up, for reasons I don't really want to delve into.

Monday is Valentine’s Day.

Ordinarily, this fact would be inconsequential to me. Ordinarily, I would not consider having plans on Valentine’s Day. Ordinarily, I would not have anyone to make plans with. I would sit in my room, and start watching a film, and drink diet lemonade, and not think too much about what day it was.

But lately things have not been ordinary.

Last week, standing on the roof of Higgs as it burned, Michael and I kissed. We haven’t really discussed what that means. Maybe we should have. Maybe if we had, Michael wouldn’t be asking me out on Valentine’s Day.

I’ve never been asked out on Valentine’s Day before. I’ve never been asked out, period. I’ve never been in anything remotely in the realm of a romantic relationship before. I’m not even sure if I want a boyfriend. What does ‘having a boyfriend’ even mean?

Michael and I aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. At least I don’t think so. No, we definitely aren’t, because that is the sort of thing you confirm before assuming, right?

I stare at Michael’s text.

Maybe he isn’t really asking me out. Maybe he just wants to hang out again like we have been doing. Maybe he doesn’t even realize what day Monday is. Maybe I’m freaking out for no reason.

I tap the text box. The cursor blinks back at me while I consider what to reply.

Tori: monday the 14th?

Michael: yeah

Shit. So he does know.

Tori: why?

Michael: why not?

He is asking me out on Valentine’s Day because he thinks we are boyfriend and girlfriend when we definitely aren’t, and I am going to have to tell him that and ruin our relationship and never talk to him again. Probably. Possibly.

My phone buzzes again.

Michael: you mentioned that your family all had plans, so I thought you might want to hang out

Mum and Dad have a dinner reservation, Charlie has plans with Nick, and even Oliver has a playdate. Ordinarily, this would mean an evening to myself to rot in my room, which honestly isn’t any different than any other night. But lately I’ve been trying to do things. And doing things with Michael makes them less awful.

I debate whether or not I should go for ten minutes before Michael texts me again.

Michael: sooo do you want to?

I sigh. The truth is that I really do want to spend the day with Michael. Why can’t it be that simple? Is it not enough that I just like being around him, without getting into what that means, or what label to put on our relationship? I contemplate for another ten minutes before replying.

Tori: sure

It is going to be awful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday evening, the doorbell rings, so I get up to answer it before Charlie does. Mum and Dad and Oliver are thankfully out already, and I’ve been waiting in the living room for Michael’s arrival in the hope of avoiding any questions from Charlie. It’s not that I want to hide anything from him, but I know he’s going to ask about Michael and whether we’re officially going out, and I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t even know what the answer is. So I should probably figure that out first.

I wrench open the door, and it’s not Michael on the other side, but Nick. He’s carrying a bunch of red, heart-shaped balloons in one hand, and a teddy bear in the other. The teddy bear is holding a handmade card with a picture of him and Charlie on the front. The whole thing is covered in heart stickers.

“Oh,” he says, clearly expecting Charlie. “Hi, Tori.”

“Hi.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence when he smiles that toothless, puppy-dog smile at me.

“Charlie is in his room,” I tell him, and step aside to let him in.

As he steps over the threshold, Charlie comes bounding down the stairs and launches himself at Nick. Somehow Nick manages to catch him, despite his hands being full.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Nick says into Charlie’s shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Charlie returns before letting go and promptly getting tangled in the balloon strings. He and Nick both giggle as they work to free him.

I leave them to it and return to my spot in the living room. I can still hear them gushing over each other’s gifts.

“Oh, he’s adorable! I love him! Did you make this yourself?”

“I did!”

“Here, open mine.”

“I love it! That’s so thoughtful! I love you!”

“I love you!”

They can be a bit sickening sometimes. Like the stomach ache you get after you eat too much sugar.

Somehow, my brother has a sappy, adorable, ‘90s rom-com relationship. Nothing makes him happier, and it’s exactly what he deserves, so of course I’m happy for him.

I hear Nick and Charlie leave and I slump further into the couch. I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is nausea or envy.

There is something so obvious and effortless and exceptional about Nick-and-Charlie. They’re so open about their feelings. Even if they didn’t say it a dozen times a day in various ways, with the way they hold hands, the way they look at each other, it’s clear to anyone that they’re mad for each other. ��

I wonder if that is what Michael is expecting.

I jump when there’s a knock at the door. I stand and grit my teeth. If Michael is on the other side of it with a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses, I am going to slam the door in his face.

I open the door, and there he is. No chocolates, no roses, no Valentine’s paraphernalia of any kind. But he is wearing a red T-shirt that is suspiciously on-theme. Of course he isn’t wearing a coat.

“Hello!” he trills when he sees me.

“Hi.”

“Sorry I didn’t bring my bike,” he says while I put on my coat. “The roads are still too snowy for it.”

This has been an exceptionally snowy winter.

“I don’t mind the walk,” I say.

We set out, and it’s snowing lightly. The streets are quiet, and the snow makes the whole world quiet, and Michael and I are quiet as we walk together through it. It’s beautiful. But I can’t fully appreciate it with all the noise in my head.

I don’t want to ask Michael, ‘What are we?’ partially because I might actually die of embarrassment if I did, but mostly because I’m afraid I won’t like his answer. I’m not even sure what I would want his answer to be.

Instead, I ask, “What are we seeing?” I stupidly didn’t think to ask earlier, and I belatedly realized that which movie he wants to see may indicate what his intentions are.

“They’re playing Amélie.”

Shit. I love that movie. And it also happens to be probably the most romantic movie that I actually like.

“You said you liked that movie, right?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“Yeah.” I rewatched it recently, but I never actually finished it.

We lapse into silence again.

On the high street, we walk past a shop with a display of red lingerie in the window with a sign reading, ‘For that special someone.’

I stare straight ahead, but somehow I can see both the display on my right and Michael on my left in my peripheral vision, and I’m trapped between them. I shiver.

I stuff my fists deeper into my pockets and raise my shoulders so the collar of my coat comes up over my ears. I peer sideways at Michael in his red t-shirt. “Aren’t you ever cold?”

“Nope,” he says. I can see his breath in the air and he turns to me. “I’m…hot blooded! Check it and see!”

I quicken my pace and leave him behind me as he continues to sing Foreigner’s ‘Hot Blooded’.

“I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three!”

I roll my eyes. God, I hate that song. I hear his footsteps as he catches up to me.

“Come on baby, do you do more than dance?” he sings into my ear.

“Please stop,” I say, looking straight ahead.

“Am I annoying you?”

Yes. “I’m cold.”

He drapes his arm over my shoulders and I consider shrugging him off, but he is actually quite warm, so I just trudge through the cold beside him.

“I’m hot blooded, I’m hot blooded,” he sings to himself before he stops.

I’m aware that someone being cheerful is a shitty reason to be annoyed with them. It’s not exactly that I’m annoyed with Michael. I’m sort of annoyed with the world in general for no particular reason. Because I’m a pessimistic idiot. Maybe I’m just making things up in my head to get sad about.

Michael’s joy can be infectious. I wish I wasn’t so resistant. I wish I could just let his joy burrow into me and make a home. Like how warmth always seeps into the cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We arrive at the cinema, where a giant heart is displayed in the window. The lobby is filled with couples: couples holding hands, couples whispering to each other, couples laughing, couples kissing. I’m not sure what else I should have expected on Valentine’s Day.

I unzip my coat; the heaters must be on full blast and it’s stuffy in here.

Michael and I weave through all the couples and eventually settle into our seats. One of the couples from the lobby sit behind us and start giggling to each other insufferably. I wonder if it is going to be like this for the next two hours. I wonder if I can slam my head into the seat in front of me with enough force to knock myself out.

The lights dim, and thankfully they do shut up by time the movie starts.

About halfway through, I realize that I am enjoying myself. Or rather, I realize that I was enjoying myself. Because my absorption in the movie is interrupted by a wet, fleshy, clicky sort of sound behind me. The couple are now making out. Like, really obnoxiously. Why do people have to ruin everything?

I stare at the seat in front of me. The noises do not stop. In fact, they’ve escalated. I don’t think I’ve cringed so hard in my life.

I peer over at Michael, who appears oblivious to the whole thing. Then I noticed that his arm is perched on the armrest between us, with his palm sort of half-opened, like maybe he’s hoping I’ll put my hand in his. I don’t. My hands are wedged between my knees, and I dig my nails into my palm, trying to tune out the noises behind me.

The rest of the movie passes slowly, but I can’t seem to focus too much on it. As soon as the credits roll, I stand up and grab my coat. I involuntarily glance at the couple behind me. They seem to have just realized that they’re in public. I look away and shuffle out of the row of seats.

Michael follows me out of the cinema. He suggests we get something to eat at Cafe Riviere and I agree, mainly because I can’t stand a silent, awkward walk home.

Inside the cafe is decorated for Valentine’s Day, with paper hearts and cupids hung on the wall and from the ceiling. We order our food, and Michael talks about how much he enjoyed the movie, and how he understands why I like it, and something about the cinematography. I nod and mhm along as needed, but I think he can tell I’m distracted. Our food arrives before he asks me about it.

When we finish eating, I suggest we head home. It’s grown dark, and it’s still snowing. Michael and I walk side by side, watching the snow fall on the river as we go.

Michael doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if I’ve ruined the evening by being a misanthropic shit.

I’m about to ask him as much, but as I turn, I slip on some ice and lurch forward. My hands are in my pockets, but before my face smashes into the pavement, Michael catches me. One of his hands grips my arm, while the other clutches my hand, which is braced to break my fall.

He steadies me before letting go.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“No problem.”

We continue walking.

“You’ve been really quiet today,” he says. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Well, more than usual. Come on, spit it out.”

I consider saying nothing, or brushing him off with some generic excuse. But as the seconds tick by, I can feel him looking at me so intently and finally I blurt, “I don’t want things to be weird between us!”

“Are things weird between us?” He sounds genuinely surprised. I realize this may be one of those things I’ve made up in my head and gotten upset about for no reason.

He waits for me to answer. I stop walking and so does he. I turn my head to look at him, feeling mortified.

“Why did you ask me out on Valentine’s day?” It comes out angrier than I intend.

His face contorts with anger and confusion. “Why did I—?” He sighs. “Why do you think I did?”

I can’t say it. I just stare at him.

I watch Michael’s face return to normal as understanding slowly sets in. “Did you think I was planning some romantic candlelit dinner with chocolate and roses and everything?”

I feel my face getting hot and I don’t say anything. That is exactly what I thought, which is entirely too embarrassing to admit.

“Because that wasn’t what I was going for at all,” Michael continues. “Honestly, I had forgotten it was Valentine’s Day until you mentioned it.”

I bite my lip and look down. “Oh.”

It’s silent for a moment, besides the sound of the river. Then Michael says, “Tori,” softer this time. “I don’t have, like, any expectations or anything. I just like spending time with you.”

It’s a relief to hear, but I don’t entirely trust it. “Why?”

He looks at me with this indecipherable expression. “Because you’re…you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

He sighs a little. “It’s a compliment, Spring. Trust me.”

I do, so I say, “Okay.” And we keep walking. And things feel a bit better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we make it back to my house, I see Nick’s car parked outside, which means that Charlie has beaten me home.

I linger outside the door, on the front stoop so that I’m standing almost at eye-level with Michael.

“I’m sorry that I made today weird,” I tell him.

“S’okay. I don’t mind weird,” he says and then pauses thoughtfully. “I mean…society kinda makes today weird, doesn’t it?” he asks rhetorically. “All these unrealistic expectations about performing romance in a very specific, public display, when really doesn’t it make more sense to just show the people you care about that you care about them?”

He says it in the general sense, but he’s looking at me like he means just me, like he’s saying he cares about me.

“You care about me?” It sounds like I’m teasing him, but only because it feels so strange. For someone to really care about me, and to say it.

“You know I do.” He says it so nonchalantly, like it’s obvious.

I nod. I know that. I’m trying to get used to believing it.

I thought the only people I really cared about were Charlie and Oliver, but I realize that that isn’t true.

So I force myself to tell him, “I do, too. I care about you, too.” Because it’s important that I say it, and that he hears it, and that he believes it.

He gives me a big, cheesy grin. “I know.”

He looks so earnest and he blushes a little, so I decide to do something.

I slowly lean in and I kiss him. Maybe it’s meaningless, or maybe it isn’t, but it’s nice, so I decide not to worry about it.

We break apart and I look up at him and he gives me this little smile that sort of makes me want to kiss it away. Instead, I stare at his face for a moment, taking in his joy, and I feel myself smile back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say. I turn around, open the door, and step inside before I overthink it.

We haven’t made any plans, but I want to see him, and I know he wants to see me. Even if I don’t really understand why, I know he does. I’ve chosen to accept it rather than question it.

I shut the door behind me.

“Tori?” Charlie calls out, making me jump. I suppose this is payback, as I’m usually the one startling him.

I lean in the doorway to the living room and cross my arms. Charlie and Nick are sitting together on the couch. It is very obvious from their postures and disheveled hair that I have interrupted them making out. Ugh.

“Where were you?” Charlie asks.

“Out.”

“By yourself?”

“...No.” Charlie clearly expects more of an answer, and I figure it is better to give him something rather than let him speculate. “I was out with Michael.”

“Oh,” Charlie says in an all-too-interested tone. “How is he?”

“Fine.” I sound too defensive. I uncross my arms. “He’s…good.”

Charlie smiles at me. “Good.”

I smile back briefly, then duck back into the hall and head upstairs.

Tomorrow I will see Michael, and maybe I will enjoy myself, and maybe I will tell Charlie about it. Maybe Michael will keep wanting to see me, even if I don’t understand why. Maybe I won’t be sad all the time. Maybe everything will turn out okay.

#osemanverse secret santa #solitaire #solitaire alice oseman #tori spring #michael holden #sprolden #sprolden fanfiction #osemanverse #osemanverse fanfiction #i know it's the wrong holiday but solitaire is set so close to valentine's day i had to do something with it #there's so many ~implications~ ya know??

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