summaidens:
He was trying not to be too serious. Aiden was someone who would much rather cover a situation up with sarcasm and witty remarks, getting either a laugh or an eyeroll – usually the latter – than face whatever deeper emotions surrounded what was going on. He was trying not to be too serious, but it was quickly apparent that wasn’t Faye’s approach. His grin vanished. He thought back to the boy she mentioned, what had happened to him? He could hardly remember who he was back then; he’d like to say he was the same, but he wasn’t, and he knew it. Everyone must’ve known it. Was it for better or worse?
“There’s more fog than memories in here,” he admitted, tapping the side of his head. They’d survived so much. Somewhere along the way, it had become too hard to figure out what was real life and what was a fever dream. What had actually happened in this lifetime and what had belonged to another Aiden Summers. Perhaps it was nothing but a coping mechanism — he couldn’t break down over what happened if he couldn’t remember what happened. If he started digging, he knew. It would all come back. He’d relive it all. And he couldn’t break, not again. There was one thing he knew about himself, he was supposed to be nonchalant, it was the only trait he could cling to, and it wasn’t very nonchalant to cry himself to sleep.
He’d gotten so distracted by his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed Faye coming closer until he felt the touch. It would’ve made him jump if it hadn’t been so soft. When was the last time someone had touched him at all? His coworker bumped into him in the hallway somewhere around last week. But that hardly counted. Intentionally, when was the last time he’d had any sort of physical affection? It was concerning even to him how blank his mind came up.
Aiden’s expression clouded with surprise. He was partially afraid he’d heard her wrong, that he’d wrap his arms around her shoulders and she’d punch him and demand to know what he was doing. Faybian Davis asking Aiden Summer, of all people, to hug her, was not something that happened in their reality. But, Hell, half of the things that happened was not something that happened in their reality. One look at her face was enough to know she was being serious, enough to make him want to ask if she was okay, but he already knew the answer. No words came to mind. He couldn’t even tease her. There was no reason to talk in this silent apartment where no one else could see or hear them. As strange as the action was, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace — realizing, as he did so, he’d wanted to ask, too.
...
There’s something tangled up in two connected timelines that make this spot right here feel like the SAFEST place in the whole of London. The rest of her reality tumbled, erased and fell apart yet somehow through it all they were guaranteed to find one another. The string of fate had tied itself around their wrists and never once yet had it been broken. She hadn’t lived a single life where he had not become a major irreplaceable part. She had never in her life before the past ten years believed everything happened for a reason but now she clung to the idea that perhaps there was one thing that meant something in all the screwed up stuff they had made happen.
She presses her face to his chest thinking of the last time they had stood after a time warp, her chin rested against his shoulder as he cried. This time she’s sure that her heart is the heavy one because it’s sunken to the soles of her shoes. All the forgotten burdens and memories that went up in flames back at the forefront of her mind. All she has lost but all she was glad to leave behind at war once more, the domination for top spot in her mind and heart. Perhaps the pact had finally given her some peace... everything was out of her control in a new and different way. Once again, everything had changed in the blink of an eye.
There are a few passing moments where her fingertips press gently against his back, a touch that grows more intense for a sparse second -- he feels like the only thing left to hold onto. He is the only one left to hold onto.
She has never been weak and even now there is some wobbly strength left right at the core. She isn’t looking for an escape but her eyes and dark and anguished, she needs a vacation... a break in the tour before she reprises her role in their great unravelling story. Her breath slows down as she pulls away and her hands readjust to rest on his forearms, “I love you,” she promises, a small smile on her lips that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “After all these years, you are my greatest friend,” It’s the truth. She means it.
She releases and instead she brushes her thumb against his cheek, where repulsion had been for two young people who didn’t have a hell of a clue what was to come in their lives... one forlorn unrequited love had lay in another... is something unbreakable and pure. Something that will never leave her. Her hand drops away and she crosses her arms across her body, “So, maybe, just for tonight,” her voice is quiet, “We can just live in that in between foggy place and pretend the worlds not about to turn upside down.”



















