“...Any crewman who ate the lotus, the honey-sweet fruit, lost all desire to send a message back, much less return, their only wish to linger there..."
-The Odyssey, book 9
It was at first an inking of something that scared her as they were leaving the cave— perhaps the way the fire died too quickly, a violent kind of suffocation. Emori wasn’t used to feeling attached to places. As John scooped up their few belongings, she noted the tension in his shoulders, the quick desperation in his motions.
“Think we’ll ever come back here?” she asked carefully. It wasn’t a question characteristic of her, and she could see that register in his half-surprised, caustic laugh.
“I don’t know what can survive what’s coming,” he said. Just a short time earlier, he’d described it as a storm. Emori often found that she liked storms— they gave good cover and allowed for more ambitious missions. She knew this storm would be different, but the word still summoned something instinctual in her.
And anyway, it wasn’t the cave she was talking about.
When they exited, she started running, squeezing his hand in hers. He squeezed back, his clumsy footsteps thumping besides hers on the earth, and she felt her breath fill her lungs like wind, like something powerful.
Once, when she was younger, Emori encountered a furiously starved hurricane. The kind that gripped trees by their roots, tearing them like hair from a scalp. When she and Otan ran, they didn’t know what their destination was. The chaos was everywhere.
Something about it felt like an unmasking. This was the world in its purest form— something that rips you apart without a second thought.
When she and Otan stopped running, they found themselves in an odd pocket, walled in by angry clouds. There was no rain here. All around them, the world shimmered angrily, rainless, windless in a small circle of space. Otan, still small then, had wanted to curl up and sleep in the peace, but Emori wanted to dive back in, rip apart the false calm. She didn’t trust it.
The first morning Emori woke up on ALIE’s island, there was a brightness coming from a high window, creeping in much like how she and John had crept away from the others the night before. They’d been bent on claiming a bed in Bekka Pramheda’s mansion before anyone else had the chance, and though they’d had to wait until she learned how to disable the drones, their mission had been successful. But she’d never slept on a bed before— the soft, yielding expanse at first felt like a mouth around her.
Waking up, though, it was John’s arm around her, lazy instead of hungry. His breathing was steady and she took a moment to study the shape of his lips, half parted in sleep, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones and nose. The shadows dancing in his features, even when he was unaware. Then she gently wriggled out of his grasp, careful not to wake him, and crossed to the window.
The sun was attacking the horizon, soft and slow but violent all the same. A quiet inhale. Emori had always respected it for its ceaseless rise and fall, but now, it broke in yellow and scarlet fractures across the clouds, forcing them awake. It should have looked peaceful. To Emori, it brought back the eye of the storm from so many years earlier, the tense stillness. The waiting.
Turning away, she noticed that John was awake, if barely so. There was still sleep in his eyes and his smile was faint and satisfied, making her feel warm in a slow, hazy kind of way.
“Not that I’m not enjoying the view,” he said, stretching like a cat, “but come back to bed.”
“What’s in it for me?” she teased.
“In is an interesting word choice,” he said, and she rolled her eyes as she climbed over the covers, pushing him lightly to make room.
“Gafen bis.”
“Whatever that means, I’m sure I deserve it.”
“It means idiot,” she said, because that was close enough. He laughed and nuzzled her hand almost instinctively. And there it was, that wall of clouds, again— after freezing for a moment like a rabbit, she relaxed against him. He frowned in soft concern and she signed, leaning her forehead against his.
“I don’t like this place, John,” she said. “We’re not safe here.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly safe anywhere,” he said, a slight grumble. “At least this not-safe place has food and shelter.”
“For how long?” she asked. “Your people are here now. How long until they no longer have use for us?”
He was silent, jaw working. She knew they wouldn’t survive what lived on this island, the other criminals, ruthless as she knew they could be. Ruthless as her. And that deathlike stillness. She needed to move, to fight something.
He was like that too, in his own way.
“Let’s explore this building today,” she suggested.
“You read my mind.”
“There’s bound to be something,” she said, meaning something they could claim and distribute. Something that would make them valuable. This place was a goldmine of potential tech, after all.
His answering grin was somehow sharp and warm at once; she felt she could nearly fall into it.
The house (John called it a mansion, which meant that Bekka Pramheda was affluent when she lived here) was protected by a security box and a system of wires running through it like veins; it was all Emori could do not to try to figure out how it worked then and there (“You could ask Reyes to show you,” John suggested, only slightly sour).
But there were other features to study. A system of computers in a personal office, an extensive plumbing system (including a room where you could wash off at the twist of a lever), a monitor where you could watch moving pictures.
When they found the kitchen, Emori immediately searched the cupboards, satisfied at the discovery of well-preserved dried food. John gravitated towards a bookshelf, lifting a heavy volume and flipping through it. He whistled.
“People did the weirdest shit with food before ALIE decided to kill everything,” he remarked, flipping through it intently. She smiled a little, noting the relaxed cast of his shoulders. He was genuinely interested in this.
“They still do, sometimes,” she said, peering over his shoulder, even though her reading skills were limited to tech markings. The food in the photographs was brilliantly colored and arranged uselessly. “If they can trade for the right ingredients.”
“Is that what you did? ‘Traded’ for ingredients?” he teased.
“A cooked rat is a cooked rat,” she said. “I have no skill as a randzi.”
“I remember,” he said with a grin, and she shoved his shoulder lightly, marveling at the fact that they could joke about her time under the chip’s influence. But as soon as the lightness was noticed, it became heavy again— move, move, a voice in her head urged, reminding her that nothing was safe, nothing was still. They were walled in by the storm.
“I don’t know about skaikru,” she said carefully, the desperate edges of an idea coming together, fueled by the quiet panic, “but I’ve never met a clan that didn’t value a skilled cook.” As soon as she said it, it made perfect sense: John’s creative intuition, good in a pinch while on the run, might serve this role well.
A short laugh. “Me?” But his face shifted as he continued to flip through the book, the gears turning in his head in a way she recognized. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” she teased. “Pick something easy and make it for me.”
“Good thing I like my dates bossy,” he said.
While John cooked, Emori took apart one of the computers upstairs. Maybe there was something Raven Reyes could use in the whirls and edges of the machine. The work steadied her nervous heartbeat, the movement of it soothing to her hands. This work was second nature to her, a kind of rhythm; hold the tech with her left hand, take it apart with the more nimble fingers of her right.
Emori used to think the earth was a kind of machine where the roots were wires, where there was power in wind and a hard drive at the center of it all. It was a broken machine, but so was she, according to her people, and she functioned perfectly well for all that.
She lost track of the passing of time, but the sun was low and red in the sky when she heard a faint musical whine from downstairs. She had reached a stopping point in her work anyway and crept silently to the kitchen, watching John stir a pot with a long wooden spoon and tap the counter in time to the music with another, smaller utensil.
“What’s that?” she asked, and his eyes lit up just slightly when he saw her.
“Music,” he said.
“I know what music is, John,” she said, and he put the spoons down on the counter, tugging her towards him with both hands. The song was something dark, curious. Somehow angry and ecstatic all at once, something about light going out.
“You ever dance?” he asked, lifting her arm and pulling it around her body in such a way that she had to spin.
“I never did get invited to festivals,” she said, almost sardonically, but allowed herself a warm feeling, that smile that only he ever got to see. The music built and he spun her again, both of them moving clumsily, unfamiliar with this particular skill. She’d never had need of it.
Maybe it’s like hunting, she mused, or like stalking someone in the woods. Light steps, awareness of another heartbeat, some sort of intention. Their gaze careful and open, something preylike in them both. The music changed to something slower, more sinuous. His hands settled at her waist and as he pressed against her, their movements slowed down to a close, gentle sway.
This was a feeling something in her chest recognized; the fixed intent in his eyes. The fluorescence in the room lightened the sharp, tempremental blue, but she could still see the shadows moving in there. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stroking the back of his neck with her thumb as they danced.
“I think the food’s burning,” she said quietly after an endless moment of this.
“Sucks for the food,” he said, and kissed her.
An hour later John tried cooking again, and she stayed in the kitchen with him this time, taking apart the different kitchen tools and putting them back together. There was a machine that spun small propellers, and a small chamber that could turn fruit into a puree, and a real stove. She’d only ever seen a few of those. There was also a fully stocked knife drawer, and she slipped two into her boot out of instinct.
“Here, try this,” he said, handing her a spoon of some sort of rice topped with a thick golden sauce. It was sweet and sticky with a hint of something that made her tongue burn.
“Where’s the rest?” she said and he grinned, scooping the rice into two bowls and drizzling the sauce over it.
“It’s a recipe for orange chicken,” he said. “But, uh. I’ve never actually seen a chicken, and I'm pretty sure there are none lurking on this island, so I had to make do.”
“It tastes like fire,” she said approvingly. “I knew you’d be good at this.”
“No offense, but you’ll eat anything.”
It was true; she was far from picky. As she finished her bowl of rice, she saw him thumb through the open book again, folding certain pages before moving on. She tried to hide her grin, the warmth curling around her insides, and unbidden…
She knew suddenly why the eye of the storm was scary. She knew why Otan wanted to curl up and sleep on the gentle dirt and never leave.
This stillness, however deceptive, had warmth and and food. It had endless tech to take apart and study, tech that showed how people used to live, tech that carried information and functionality and security. It had John and their movements, just a little slower. John and their love, just a little quieter here. John and his heartbeat and his creativity and the shadows in his face.
It had the gentle lie of time, because, watching him study the cookbook, she knew, doubtlessly, that she could stay here forever.
It terrified her.
Before going to bed that night, and after some obligatory interaction with the others at the lab, they both looked out the window in the room they’d claimed.
There was a light on by the patio, and it cast a pale, ghostly kind of mist on the treetops. It suddenly hurt Emori to the bone to think those trees, all trees, might be destroyed by what’s coming. Trees had always been kind to her.
“It’s quiet,” she said. His arm tightened around her.
“Not for long,” he said, and she knew, in his way, he depended on the reemergence of chaos.
“Not for long,” she agreed. She felt the heaviness of sleep settle on her and allowed it, resting her head against him. Tomorrow she’d observe and move and give the panic its place. The fear had always treated her well too, letting her know when to run and when to strike.
But now, standing with John at the dark window, with the night holding its breath, they were still.
Emori and Murphy reuniting and adapting to change between 4.03 and 4.04. Enjoy!
John kicks out the fire, his hand still on her arm. His grip is strong, but there’s an almost imperceptible tremble in his fingers. Whatever he learned today spooked him.
It spooks her too, when he starts explaining. All the people who had died in Arkadia, a fire eating them up from under their skin. The same fire that has already poisoned the bugs and fish, that will eat the Earth up and spit it out, dead and desolated.
“The Arkadians are figuring something out though,” John says next to her as they move down the road, the moon and stars just enough to see by. “And we’ll take advantage.” His confidence in those people surprises her. In her memory, he’s always described Skaikru as elitist and largely incompetent. The faith he’s been demonstrating in them the past couple of days doesn’t fall in line with that.
But measuring Skaikru against the alternative he’s described makes them the clear preference.
“It won’t be easy,” she says, so as to not concede anything, but also to recognize that his stance is valid.
“When is anything?” he responds, but with a note of humor. He reaches for her hand, so that they’re clasped as they continue to walk. “We’ll survive.”
There’s a sureness in his voice, the same as there’s a sureness in her steps, despite the dark and unknown that surround them. She stops, catching his wrist.
When she kisses him, it feels like the first time in a long while. The first proper one at least, with one hand in his hair, and their lips catching. It’s not like how she remembers kissing him in the temple, not like watching herself through a water of a stream, far away and murky. It’s like how kissing him should be, exciting, reassuring.
“I missed you,” she says when she breaks away and puts her feet flat on the ground again. She means today, when she was sitting alone in the cave, but she means from long before that too. As if the chip wearing off compounded all the days where she should have been missing him and wasn’t.
“Yeah well I’m not going anywhere without you anymore,” he says. There’s that flick of his mouth turning upwards, and his thumb running on the edge of her jaw, briefly. She’s glad he doesn’t see her care for him as soft or weak. She knows people who would. That’s part of why she favors John over the rest of them, she thinks. “C’mon,” he says, taking her hand again, “we still have a while to go.”
They need to remain fairly quiet walking down a road like this in the dark, she’s not the only bandit in this woods. But at the right register their whispers blend in with the wind and the rustle of leaves overhead. John takes advantage and tells her what to expect of the Arkadians, as if she doesn’t know all his stories already. She wouldn’t say he’s eager to see them again, but rather just eager in general. Almost as if finding a balance between themselves and Skaikru is a puzzle he wants to crack. She can’t say she doesn’t understand, but she’s still not convinced Skaikru are worth the trouble. She still listens of course, cataloging the information as it comes and attempting to filter for John’s particular biases.
Morning comes harshly, no soft glow slowly strengthening alongside the growing hum of insects or the twitter of birds, instead light breaks over the treetops in a single cut. She squints against the brightness. In the daylight there’s more speed in their steps than she can ever remember them having before. In the past they never travelled anywhere with urgency, never had anything more than a temporary destination in mind. Now each day will dwindle away without the promise of more to come.
The trees thin the closer they get to Arkadia, and her fingers twitch in her glove. She hates how vulnerable they are, in the empty field Arkadia rests in. They’re easy targets to spot, especially from it’s intimidating walls.
The whole structure is imposing really; it reminds her of Polis, with it’s crowds and tall structures and the noise of people that she can hear even from so far away. Skaikru and the clans like to pretend they’re so different, but they all build these little cities, with walls around them to keep others out.
“I don’t like it,” she mutters, loud enough so that John can hear, but not quite so loud that he should feel the need to respond. He squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back, happy to put her energy into something other than the nervous shaking in her chest.
He lets go long before they reach the gate, but the fortitude it gives her means her chin is still lifted by the time they get there.
“Hey!” John calls once they’re within earshot, waving both his hands above his head to show he’s unarmed.
“Murphy?” A voice calls back, and it takes Emori a moment to identify who it belongs to. She’s a young woman, younger than John, probably, with her hair in one long braid down her back, so different from the styles Emori is accustomed to. She’s armed too, although her gun isn’t raised, and her finger doesn’t rest on the trigger. A taller red-haired middle-aged woman stands beside her as they stride forward.
“McIntyre, long time no see. You missed the party in Polis.”
Harper McIntyre, Emori recollects. John had known her before he came to the ground, and had mostly neutral feelings about her. He had mentioned in passing that he didn’t think she was still alive.
“You’re really gonna have to make up your mind about whether you’re sticking around or not,” Harper says, her tone judgemental. “I know the Millers let you in just last night before you ran off again. None of us have time to deal with your shit, Murphy.”
“Figured all of this end of the world business, you’d need as many hands on deck as possible,” John counters with an easy shrug, “and now you’ve got four more.”
“Who’s she?” the woman next to Harper asks, and John’s eyes flick to her like he’s seeing her for the first time, which he might be.
“Emori,” John answers for her, forced casualness in his voice.
“What clan?” the woman asks, her eyes squinting at her tattoo as if she’ll be able to distinguish her based on it.
“None,” Emori speaks up, for once not fearing the repercussions of answering that question. The woman hums, suspicious, and looks like she wants to say more before John cuts her off.
“I’ve already talked to Abby,” he tells Harper, “we have an arrangement. So if you want we can wait here while you go track her down to confirm it, or you could just let us inside instead of playing twenty questions.”
There’s a pause, as the two women weigh his truthfulness. Luckily John is very good with words.
“You still suck,” Harper huffs, but she steps aside, one hand loosening the grip on her rifle. John smirks and winks at her as they pass, because he likes to throw sticks on an already roaring fire. Emori restrains herself from giving him a push forwards as an indication to keep moving. They really can’t afford to antagonize anyone, even in jest.
From the inside, Arkadia is even stranger. It’s shape is noticeable from a distance, but it’s much more pronounced up close. The circle that stretches above all the other structures has people climbing all over it, the sound of metal banging on metal is very nearly overbearing.
They don’t raise much attention as they walk through the community. It seems everyone is too hard at work to notice. Children whose legs haven’t yet grown into running transverse the fields with buckets of water in their tiny hands, passing cups to men with backs hunkered from hard work and woman with burnt faces. The dissonance and movement strike home how dire the situation is. The end of the world is truly coming.
John leads the way into the metal structure, and it’s just as active inside, people rushing from place to place. No one stops them, and hardly anyone stops to look twice; not at John at least. One or two look at her with unease, although her hand is in its glove and tucked deep in her pocket. Their eyes linger on her face instead.
Despite those few looks of distrust, they make it to the medbay without issue. There’s two people in the large room when they get there, and Emori looks to John, who also seems to notice the absence of all those bodies he had mentioned. The remaining sick woman is obviously not an Arkadian, with nearly healed rashes on her face. The other is an Arkadian man who seems to be taking inventory, sometimes stopping to pack away supplies. Jackson is his name, she suddenly remembers, he had been in the city of light, and in Polis.
“Where’s Abby?” John asks, setting his pack down on one of the empty cots.
Jackson doesn’t look before responding, “She’s with Kane, they’re trying to sort out details for the trip.”
“What trip?” John asks, his voice edging towards accusation and volatility. She reaches out, rests her hand on his lower back so the others can’t see, but he can feel it. His next exhale is more controlled, and it doesn’t seem like Jackson noticed his near slip up.
Jackson has paused, no doubt wondering how much he can reveal.
“Apparently there’s a an island lab with medical supplies that Jaha has been to. We think we’ll be able to synthesize nightblood there.” At this his eyes flicker over to the patient, who is following their conversation with her eyes, Emori has been keeping track of her out of her peripheries. There is a tremendous amount of strength in her arms, in the lines of her face, not even something an illness would take away. She doesn’t say anything, even as she knows that attention is being placed on her. There’s a grief about her mouth.
“I’ve been there,” John says, “probably a better person to take you than Jaha considering that’s where he went batshit.” That gives Jackson pause, an uncomfortable crinkle around his mouth. Of course it would, he had taken the chip too. She glances at John’s composed face, the quick way he licks his lower lip. He knows it’s a good line.
Jackson takes the radio off his belt. “Abby, it’s Jackson,” he says into it, “John Murphy and his friend Emori are here, apparently they know about the lab too.”
They wait for a response, hardly any time passes before the crackle of the radio breaks through. “We’ll be down in just a minute Jackson.”
Jackson looks eager to ask questions, but he reigns it in, going back to the task he had been undertaking before their arrival.
“We want to be on that trip,” John says under his breath to her. She turns so her ear is to him while eyes watch the sick woman.
“I agree,” she says quiet enough to match him. “What’s this about nightblood?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and she can tell it bothers him that he’s been gone only a handful of hours and is already out of the loop. “Maybe they’re using it as some soft of medicine? Whatever it is we can get it out of Abby.”
“My blood is immune to radiation, they want to make it for the rest of you.” It’s the sick woman, standing slowly from her perch on the cot. Emori shoots her a glare for eavesdropping on their conversation.
“You’re a nightblood? Who are you?” Clearly she’s not Commander, but logically she should be, with the rest of them dead.
“My name is Luna kom Flokru,” she says slow and lilting, and then, as if knowing her thoughts, “and I have no desire to ascend.”
Emori presses her lips together and says nothing more. There’s something unsettling about this woman, the steady way she’s looking at her maybe, or the grief still resting on her shoulders, threatening at any moment to tip her over. No one has that much composure unless they use it to cloak something more brutal. She makes no comments about Emori though, either too downtrodden to care about her presence, or uncaring to begin with. She’s clearly not the type to adhere to expectations.
Another man enters the room then, his heavy footsteps distracting. His tattoo suggests he’s Trikru, but the hand he rests on Luna’s shoulder betrays that idea. He has dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and his hands are large and covered in dirt. Emori would wager it was from grave digging. Flokru leave their dead to the sea, but without it the ground is probably better than a pyre.
Jackson speaks quietly to them, at least in part tactful of their loss. But there’s an underlying urging towards the next step in the plan.
Any illusion of the Arkadians being implicit in presenting their dominating strategies to reaching their goals is dashed when Abby and Kane stride into the room, Jaha on their heels. All standing with sure direction and assertiveness. She feels John stiffen next to her, and can feel herself standing taller too. The third adult stands a step back and to the left of the other two, but he’s the one her eyes follow. His head is bare now, as if he wants to emphasize his increasing age. She hates the softness in his face, the lack of reaction to the group of people assembled in the room.
“John, Emori, it’s good to see you both,” Abby says, as if she knows her. “You’ve been to the island?”
“Yes, John arrived there with me, and Emori was responsible for supplying the appropriate technology for…the project,” Jaha says with that haughty way of explaining he has. It’s clear he hasn’t yet seen reason to mention them.
“Really? You let him back on the decision making team so quickly?” John says. The comment is directed at Abby, mostly, but Jaha seems to appropriate it for himself. He still has the overly calm presence about himself, like he’s still forgotten pain and anger and grief. Emori is comforted by the hate for him that sizzles under her breastbone.
“In these times we must all do our part, John. I’m glad you see that too.”
“Didn’t I tell you to go float yourself?”
She presses the length of her arm against John’s. This is no place to make a scene, regardless the strength of his anger.
“We’ve all made mistakes Mr. Murphy,” Kane interjects, with his hand presented in a stopping position, and his eyebrows raised in pointed emphasis, “That doesn’t mean we can’t make amends, and continue to help our people in the face of catastrophe.”
John shrugs. “All I’m saying is maybe you don’t want him in the heart of ALIE’s fortress. Just a thought.”
Kane and Abby turn to each other, obviously seeking guidance and confirmation from one another. But Jaha looks at her.
She meets his eyes, sticks out his chin. He knows he can’t look at John, and now he seeks something from her. But there’s nothing he deserves, certainly nothing she’ll give him.
Say you’re sorry for getting my brother killed. She urges. Say you’re sorry for hurting John. Say you’re sorry for stealing my mind.
Foolish wishes. Skaikru, like her people, put little stock in apologies. Remorse and forgiveness are for people too weak to take the blood they are due.
“I have a boat,” Emori says out of a desire to hear her own voice. To establish her value. A gaze and carefully constructed words from a disgraced sky-fallen leader won’t make her silent again. The harsh edges to her words make it clear she is barring his access. “It’ll be fast and safe.”
Kane looks pleased, and Abby surprised. John nudges her with his elbow and flashes her with a smile. They’ve made the better offer.
“That’s good news. You’ll be needed here Thelonious, especially if Raven goes with them. It seems we’re always short of engineers.” Kane says after a short moment of deliberation. He smiles a bit a her, and she remembers him smiling as they stood next to each other while making their way through the Polis tower. This version of him knows joy, even if only in small doses. “So where’s this boat?”
She explains where it is on the river, and Kane takes notes, talking to Abby about rations and personnel and strict time frames. Jaha slinks out, recognizing he is no longer wanted.
“So we leave at first light tomorrow,” Abby surmises. Kane doesn’t look too happy about that, but he nods anyway, squeezing Abby’s arm as he exits. “You continue resting Luna, you’ll need your strength for tomorrow.” Luna lays down, Nyko’s hand on her shoulder, but Emori doubts Luna lacking strength will be a problem.
Abby turns to them, tired but refusing to show it. “Thank you both for your help. Have either of you slept?”
“No, we walked through the night,” Emori answers, grateful both for the opportunity to rest and to be alone with John. Abby nods.
“I can show you a room. We’ll meet at the gate to load the rover at 5:30 tomorrow.” Abby seems eager for an excuse to leave the med bay for a little while so they follow her to a higher level of the settlement. “Unfortunately there are a lot of available rooms now,” Abby says, showing them to where they’ll stay till tomorrow. “The door doesn’t lock, but it should be enough for the night.”
“It’s good,” John says shortly, “See you tomorrow Abby.”
Abby nods once, offers a tight smile and leaves. John pushes open the door once she turns the corner, keeping it propped open just a bit after they enter. It’s remarkably small, with no windows, and a single chair and bed the only furnishings. John flicks on the room’s only lamp, casting the two of them and the left wall into half shadows.
“You’re tired?” Emori asks, sitting on the bed. It’s softer than any place she can remember sleeping, but the blanket is so thin as to be almost irrelevant. She hates to think how cold it would get to be during winter in this metal fortress.
“Sort of,” he says, sitting next to her. “My mind’s all wired, you know?”
She rests her head on his shoulder. She’s tired. Hours had passed slowly waiting for him yesterday, until her eyelids had grown too heavy to keep open, but even then her sleep had been uneasy and unrestful.
John kicks off his shoes. “C’mon,” he says, “you’re tired.” With slow movements he shrugs her off so he can take of his shirt and jacket, then reaches down to undo her laces for her.
“John, you don’t have to,” she says, but he just tickles the underside of her foot in response. “Stop!” she laughs, scooching further back on the bed, and tucking her feet under her. “Uncalled for,” she says, as he situates himself next to her, pulling the blanket back to lie under.
“Ah, but it made you smile,” he says as Emori lays her head on the pillow. The bed is narrow, hardly made for two people, but they fit, no space between their bodies. John stretches to turn off the lamp, and with a sharp click, the room blinks into darkness again, with the exception of the line of light shining through the crack in the door.
John settles his arm under her shoulders after resting his head besides hers, close enough that she’s sure that their foreheads will knock together.
The blanket may be too threadbare to insulate heat, and John’s circulation tends to keep his skin cool with fingertips like icicles, but she feels warm now. There’s a reason she couldn’t sleep last night.
John turns on his side—it’s less cramped that way—and lays his other arm around her. His hand runs over hair, tugging mindlessly on the tied end of her bandana until it unravels.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, because he’s obviously restless.
“Being back here,” he says, “It’s…I don’t know. I keep waiting for everyone to tell me to get lost.”
“They won’t,” she says. “They need us now.”
“And we need them,” he points out, his hand stilling. His voice is very tentative; he doesn’t know whether he’s okay with their new symbiosis yet. Emori doesn’t trust them, but they were never her people. She can understand John’s division. She had thought for a little while, after meeting him, that Skaikru was different. That they didn’t carry the same torch of blind hatred as the people on the ground, but she’s not so disillusioned now. In their cruelty and crassness they are hardly different. John knows. But if there’s any sort of kindness among them then he knows about that too.
“Do you think this will work?” she asks. There’s no way that these people understand how rare it is to be a nightblood, how lucky you need to be. Emori has never been lucky, she’s not stupid enough to rely on it. Not now.
“I don’t know,” John says into the dark—quiet, as if someone might catch the vulnerability through the walls. She strokes the back of his hand with her thumb to remind him it’s only her. “But if it does, we’ll be some of the first people to get it.” His hand lays under her shirt now, palm cold against her waist as he uses it as an anchor to pull himself closer to her. He swallows, deep enough for her to hear. “And if it doesn’t, the lighthouse bunker is there too. Enough room for the two of us.”
“John…” she says, turning her gaze to his half-lidded eyes. His face is carefully composed but when she cups the back of his neck his jaw clenches and he allows the fear to shine in his eyes. Emori’s convinced there’s no place on Earth or in space that he hates as much as that bunker. “I’m hoping this nightblood works.”
“Yeah, me too,” he says with that special kind of almost-softness he saves just for her. “But we’ll be together, so no matter what it’ll be okay.” It’s a worrying platitude, but one she likes the sound of, so she closes her eyes and turns herself into his chest. “I mean, the two of us? We could totally outsmart Raven and Abby. No problem.”
Her smile breaks out against his skin. She’s missed his teasing jokes, missed his hands and his voice and his almost-softness.
“Hey,” he says, like he’s checking if she’s asleep. She’s turns to look at his vague outline, all dark greys and near-blacks. The darkness doesn’t bother her though, she’s lived in it too long. “We’ve already survived the end of the world once,” he says as he returns to playing with the ends of her hair.
“And we will again,” Emori finishes.
John moves to kiss her, half a smile on his lips. This place is unfamiliar— it has a bed, and metal walls—but the way John kisses her is familiar enough to drown all that away. Like he’s both chasing and settling into her at once. His arm curled around her back and nose nudging against hers.
“We should probably sleep,” John says as he pulls back
“Then go to sleep,” she tells him, but not before kissing, quick, once more.
“Sleep well,” he says and brushes a strand of hair off her cheek.
When she closes her eyes she listens to John’s breath even and thinks about two months. It’s enough time to cup in your hands, enough to slip through your fingers. Next to her John’s heartbeat pounds in his chest. Two months is also enough time to discover a new world, to begin a new life. To fall in love. It has to be enough time to keep it too.
John ignores ten years of feelings for his best friend until it slowly overflows him.
For Elyse (@raven-reyes-of-sunshine). This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but the slow burn got the best of me. Merry Christmas <3
John and Emori had studied together since primary school. He was the poor kid who had lost his father, and she, the girl with the weird hand and the ugly scar on her face. Both targets of rejection, pity, and despise, they found their way to each other, their friendship built as a shield to fend off the outer world. Together they could face anything and anyone.
With the death of his father, John spent a lot of time at Emori’s house, mostly because he was afraid his mom would try to choke him in his sleep again. Otan, Emori’s brother, was the one who took care of him, who held him after nightmares, who made sure he was going to school and had what to eat every day. They felt more like his family than his own mother, who drank 24/7 to forget she had a son.
By the age of fourteen, John and Emori were inseparable. They walked to school together, they had lunch, they stood up for each other whenever someone mocked them. Emori actually punched one of their colleagues for insulting John, which got her a bloody knuckle and a three-day suspension – if you asked her, she’d say that it was worth the stinging pain in her right hand and every lecture she got, from her brother to the school principal.
Emori helped John with his homework whenever he was struggling with a math problem, and he helped her every time she had no idea where to start writing an English paper. They would sleep in the same room, she on the bed, he on an air mattress by her bedside, both falling in a world of dreams, where their path would cross in each one of them.
One year later, Emori had her first kiss. The feeling of being beat to it by his best friend wasn’t as unsettling as the fact that someone as cool and smart as Emori would want to kiss a guy as stupid as the boy she hooked up with. John thought she sure deserved better.
Whenever she talked about the kiss or the boy, something bubbled inside his chest, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it made him feel weird. There were times when he’d want to turn his back and cold-shoulder her, especially when she justified her delay for being insecure about her hand, saying he was the first one to not reject her for it.
In John’s mind, a lot was wrong in her allegation. A, John didn’t give a damn about how old she would be when she kissed someone for the first time, and B, he had always said how badass her hand was, how she shouldn’t feel the need to hide it – how could she say that that guy was the first one? That was unacceptable.
Now, his lack of interest in having his first kiss always annoyed Emori to a point where she couldn’t stop asking him why he hasn’t done it yet. John tried to answer it politely the first couple of times, but his bad temper eventually made its way to the surface, retorting he didn’t want to kiss someone just because people said he should. That resulted in a one week fight, in which they would only talk to each other through Otan or one of their mutual friends, especially Raven or Monty, depending on where they were.
When John was old enough, the sleepovers and silly fights stayed in the past, and he had to face his fears. His mom still drank like that was the only possible thing in life, and her neglect wasn’t as surprising as it was when he was little. With the passing years also came the responsibilities; John started working part-time at a coffee shop downtown at the same time he studied for his SAT. He and Emori had discussed college plans, and he couldn’t wait to get out of that house, to move on far away from the ghosts of his past and the monsters of his present life – there was no way he would screw this up.
Emori would often doubt of her college potential, saying she wasn’t that smart, and why would any college want her? What does she have to offer to the academic world? John just thought that was nonsense, there was no need for her to be that nervous – even though their only hope of getting a better life was to move out and go to college, but she didn’t need to be reminded of that – and he took every chance he got to assure her she was brilliant.
The day Emori got her acceptance letter, John hadn’t received his yet. His heart was torn between being happy for her and being devastated for losing the only good thing in his life. And what the hell would he do without her? It was so easy for the broken and self-destructive part of his brain to believe that his fate was being stuck in a city he hates, with people that despise him, away from the one person he cares about. The damaged part of him drifted to all the ways Emori would forget him and move on without him. How she would graduate, get a job, a house, and eventually find someone to spend her life with. She would build a home and a family, in which there would be no place for him. With time, he would be nothing more than a faded memory in the corner of her brain, just a dusty fragment of her life racing into oblivion.
A week after John cried himself to sleep every night and Emori ran out of tears at the idea of moving away without her best friend, his letter arrived on the mail. The envelope was crumpled, the corners slightly damaged by what looked like water – and God knows what happened to it – but it was finally there.
John held the paper in his hands, his trembling fingers wrinkling it even more. “I can’t do it, you need to open it for me.”
As Emori took the envelope from his hands and read the words carefully, the way her face lit up with it didn’t leave any doubt. “You got in, John.”
He widened his blue eyes. “I got– I got in?”
Her lips molded into the most radiant smile while she lurched forward, the impact of her body on his making John lose balance and hit the wall behind him.
“Ow.”
Emori chuckled, caressing the spot on his head that collided with the wall. “Sorry.”
He laughed, and she hugged him so tight it got him paying attention to how the smell of her hair was so vivid inside his nostrils, to how her chest was crushed against his, to how close she was to his –
“I’m so proud of you,” Emori whispered in his ear.
She kissed his cheek, lingering on his skin more than she usually did, but he banished every theory that dared to pop into his mind – they were just friends, it’s not like anything past that was ever going to happen.
“Thanks.”
Abandoning all the pain and harm in his past life, John and Emori rented a house with their group of friends – Raven, Bellamy, Monty, Echo, and Harper. Each of them would go their own way during classes, from English literature to history, chemistry to sociology, anatomy to calculus. They all shared one class, though – astronomy – and the fact that they used that to name their group space squad made John feel like they were still in middle school at the same time it warmed his heart for being a part of something that good.
During their sophomore year, John lost his mother – not that the woman who beat the crap out of him and remembered him every day of how he got his father killed was his mom, but still. Emori insisted in accompanying him, saying he shouldn’t go through that alone, and together, they hopped on the next plane. Back at their hometown, Emori and Otan helped John with the funeral, even though there was no one to attend to. John watched his mother be laid to rest by his father’s side with Emori’s hand in his, her grip guaranteeing that she was there for him and that he would never be alone or hurt again for as long as her heart beat.
On their way back to Emori and Otan’s house, thunders traveled through the sky and bolts of white lightning flashed in the blackness above them, announcing the rain that would soon pour down. As John stood on the sidewalk, just a few meters away from the faded blue house with the brown lawn and the broken windows, cool raindrops fell on his face, wiping his soul clean. Emori held him close, her arms wrapped around his neck while the ache, guilt, and resentment that had been consuming his body for years left alongside with his tears, the rain washing it all away. Around them, the blinding light and the rolling thunders reminded him that even the strongest of storms would eventually be over.
As their graduation day grew closer, John could barely believe that he, the guy who thought he wasn’t worth or capable of having a future and building a life for himself, was actually graduating in something he loved. Emori still mocked him, saying he was already a softie before majoring in English Literature. John, of course, didn’t miss the opportunity, replying she already spaced out a lot, she didn’t need an Aerospace Engineering degree to attest that.
When their graduation took place, John and Emori had met before the ceremony. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black pants, and formal shoes, the light blue tie around his neck only making him uncomfortable. At the moment his eyes landed on Emori, his heart skipped a beat, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Walking towards him, there she was, smiling so brightly in a long black dress, her arms and hands unconcealed. He was momentarily stunned at the sight of her fleshy lips tinted red, her short hair curled down her back, her formal dress bringing out the curves of her body.
He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together as his eyes denied his command, getting an eyeful of her. “Wow, you look– you look beautiful.”
With her high heels shoes on, she was almost the same height as he, about two inches shorter. Emori scanned his body up and down, raising a hand to put a lock of his hair back into place. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
During the ceremony, as he held his diploma in his hand, the black academic dress weighing on his body, he watched Emori walk across the stage. All the way, she held a blinding smile on her lips, her badass hand holding the diploma cover, her cap restraining the curly locks of her hair from dancing in the wind. John was pretty sure she was the most beautiful girl in the room, hands down. She walked towards her row, winking at him on her way back, and he didn’t know if it was the thrill of graduation or if he was having other sorts of feelings, but it made his cheeks flush and his heart flutters inside his chest.
In that same year, space squad spent New Year’s Eve on the front yard of their house, drinking bubbly champagne and watching as fireworks painted the sky. They were one step behind the new year, and John couldn’t stop thinking about Emori’s honest yet drunk proposal in their graduation party, saying they should kiss at midnight if neither of them had a date. Was that why he turned down the cute girl from his creative writing class when she reached out to him a week after their graduation?
With every passing second, his heart hammered harder in his chest. He was being stupid again, obviously. Emori probably didn’t even remember she had said that, it was just a funny thing to say at the moment because they were both dancing and laughing like crazy.
Ten, nine, eight–
“Hey, stranger.”
Drawing his eyes from the cheerful sky, Emori wrapped her arms around him, resting a hand on the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair, giving him goosebumps.
“Hey,” he answered, not fighting the goofy smile on his lips.
She smiled shyly. “Is our deal still on?”
Okay, so she did remember it. In his mind, knowing that she was conscious when that offer took place would make things easier, but it was not that simple in reality. Did that mean she was being serious? That she wanted it to happen? Was she looking forward to it too?
John nodded, swallowing the anxious laugh that tried to emerge from him. Emori nodded back.
Three, two, one!
“Happy New Year,” she whispered against his lips.
Feeling her smile, he took her mouth in his, just a quick and soft peck on the lips for his lack of experience. He told himself he was fine with it because what if he was sloppy or had bad breath or if he clashed his teeth with hers if he dared to deepen the kiss? Oh God, how embarrassing would that be?
Emori, on the other hand, didn’t share the same concern. After he reluctantly released her, she kissed him once, then again, and again, and again, until all his insecurities melted away and her bottom lip was trapped between his.
The whistling and popping sounds of the glowing fireworks above them could easily be mistaken by the ones inside his chest, the technicolor explosion of her lips tinting his monochromatic heart.
Emori jolted him when she unexpectedly broke their kiss, his whole body shivering with the sudden loss of her warmth. They both stared at each other, gasping and panting, taking in what had just happened. John glanced at her lips, at how her lipstick was a little smudged by then.
He pointed at his mouth. “You have– just a little bit–”
Emori frowned.
He groaned at his ridiculous incoherence and exasperated attempt to sound cool about the kiss, but his brain seemed like it had liquified with the taste of her tongue. John reached for her, brushing his thumb softly on her bottom lip, trying to wipe the lipstick off her skin. Her gaze and parted lips didn’t help, of course, as he caught himself drawn by them again.
She thanked him, taking a step back. “Happy New Year, John.”
He watched as she walked away, glancing over her shoulder once before joining Raven on the porch. “Happy New Year, Mori.”
The kiss subject died there.
Two years later, with Emori working in an aerospace manufacturer and John as a high school teacher, he finally started dating but, of course, the universe had to conspire against him, making his girlfriend overflow with hate for his best friend. The first time they met, John thought Ontari would stab Emori with a fork as she watched them hug, burning Emori alive with her unkind gaze. In the beginning, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him now that he finally had someone, that he was overreacting, and Ontari wasn’t that jealous of him.
A few months went by and John moved in with Ontari. If you asked Emori for her opinion on that matter, she would say he was blind, and that living together was the biggest mistake of his life. The thing was that yes, perhaps Ontari was a bit violent sometimes, but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before. Besides, he really didn’t think he was the kind of guy who could be loved so fondly it made people want to throw up. No, the only type of love he knew was the one that hurt and bled and stung, and that was all he expected of others.
When he first reconsidered his relationship with Ontari, Emori had just seen the bruises on his face, a dark circle on his cheek, his swollen bottom lip from a cut. There had others before that time; slaps to the face, punches to the gut, a cigarette burn once on his chest – some of them weren’t visible, and if they were, John was really good in hiding them.
Emori, holding his face in both of her hands, brushed her thumb softly on the unharmed part of his lip, her eyes evaluating the lesions. “Did she do this to you?”
“It was nothing.”
“Like hell it was.”
She tilted his head to get a better look at the purple coloring his cheek, shaking her head. “She’s hurting you.”
Emori sighed, dropping her hands by her side. “You can’t keep doing this, John. You don’t deserve this.”
John snorted. “What is it? Is it because I started dating? Are you jealous or something?”
That same night, Ontari wasn’t so pleased after knowing he met Emori, just the two of them. All the while he tried to explain they were just friends, she had him pinned against a wall, her hands locked around his throat. With shortness of breath, his mind took him to his best friend, to her worried words, the gentleness in her eyes, the touch of her skin on his lips. Oh, how he wished he had listened to her.
He waited until Ontari had had enough, choking him and forcing him to do things he really didn’t want to, letting her fall into a peaceful sleep before gathering all his things and heading to Emori’s place. He knew better than to hang around and wait to end things nicely – there was no nice with Ontari. She had hurt him before, several times, but that was the first time he felt scared. He was not going to put up with it anymore, not after what he’d been through with his mom, that was for sure.
Emori’s jaw dropped at the same instant she opened the door, noticing the purple bruise circling his throat. She reached for him, her hesitant fingers brushing lightly on the mark, her touch sending shivers down his spine.
Her voice was low. “What happened?”
“You were right,” John replied, taken over by embarrassment. “Can I stay here for a few days?”
Emori wrapped her hands around his waist, nodding against his chest. “Stay as long as you need.”
John held her tightly, arguing with his mind to keep his mouth shut, to not expose ten years of bottled up feelings in that specific moment. Maybe he could tell her some other time, when the Ontari situation was already lost in the past. But what if he was too late? Could he ever bear seeing the woman he loves with another guy or girl?
Should he continue to ignore his emotions, and move on with her being just his friend? Or should he hold on to the tiny string of hope he had inside him? Well, they did kiss two years ago – did she remember it? Did she want it? Did she like it?
“Is it over?” Emori asked against his sweater, the vibration of her voice provoking an earthquake inside his chest.
He nodded. “I mean, not really. But she would’ve followed me if I had stuck around. I couldn’t, Mori, I–”
She held him tighter, caressing the space between his shoulder blades. “I know, I know.”
Emori pulled back, her questioning eyes staring at him. “But you don’t… love her, do you? I mean, you’re not coming back to her, right?”
John denied, shaking his head. Acting out of fear, and with the thought of “better said than sorry” in his mind, he plucked up the courage, forcing the words out, “That was never gonna work.”
“Yeah, but you don’t–”
“No, Emori, I could never love her,” John cut her off. He sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t because she’s never gonna be you.”
“John?” She called him, her endearing voice making his eyelids fly open instantly.
Her bottom lip trembled, her kind brown eyes melting before his. “I need you to tell me something.”
“What?” He whispered.
“I need to know how you really feel…” she said, “about me.”
“Mori, I–“
John sighed. He always had a deep passion for words. How someone always came up with the right thing to say or write, the pleasant sound of each letter combination, the infinite interpretation of sentences. Words always sounded so beautiful, so pure, so meaningful, but, at the same time, so meaningless. When it came to express his own feelings, no matter how hard he tried, words would never express the same magnitude as his actions. Maybe he wasn’t able to tell her, but maybe he could show her.
He cupped her face, slowly narrowing the gap between them, a part of his brain still certain that she was going to push him off and slap him in the face. When he saw her eyelids close, John brushed his lips against hers, feeling the warm, minty breath from her parted ones, the reluctance yet magnetic pull between their mouths. Emori circled her arms around his middle, her hands exploring the soft wool of his sweater under her palms.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, and he smiled widely, feeling his heart fuss inside his chest.
Emori made sure not to meet his bruised lip, her mouth kissing the corner of his and taking the liberty to lock his top lip between hers as he tangled his hands in her hair, smelling the scent of her shampoo just as vivid as that day she hugged him, the day he realized another switch had turned on inside his heart. His lips tingled from the electrical sparks her touch gave him, exactly like the first time they kissed, and his body frequently gasped for air with every slide of her hands on his back.
Emori rested her forehead against his, both of them sharing the same air, the quick rise and fall of their chests trying to catch their breath. Years of unspoken feelings floated around them, dancing and twirling in the cold winter breeze, celebrating their freedom, as they held onto each other.
John shook his head. “I’ve been feeling this for so long.”
Emori chuckled. “Me too.”
She softly brushed a knuckle on his cheek, lowering her hand to the colored circle around his throat, placing a gentle kiss on his bruised skin.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you,” she whispered against his neck.
He nodded, swallowing hard, taking her face in both his hands to look into her eyes. “What do we do now?”
Emori smiled. “Now,” she said, laying a soft kiss on his lips, “we allow ourselves to be happy.”
A lopsided smile took shape in his mouth. “No more wasting time.”
John lifted Emori off the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist, his smile growing wider as she giggled in his ear, the most adorable sound echoing inside his brain. With a light kick, he closed the door behind him, both of them disappearing inside her apartment.
Don’t be surprised if I love you (for all that you are)
To @dylanobrienisbatman from @raven-reyes-of-sunshine
Merry Christmas my bestest babe. You have no idea how hard it was to keep this from you!
Emori has never really put much faith in the idea of soulmates. How does the universe get to decide whom she’s with? That should be a choice that’s up to her. Not the golden pattern on two peoples skin the first time they touch. She’s going to pick her own destiny. Which is why she is so careful not to touch people upon meeting them.
She doesn’t want to brush hands with a stranger and then be forced to go on a date with them just because the universe thinks they’re made for each other. She won’t.
And so she wears gloves as often as she can, long sleeves, even in summer. It might not be the best way of dealing with the issue at hand, but it’s worked for her so far.
It’s not like she never touches people. There are often occasions where it happens in the street or on trains or at busy restaurants because no one is as careful as she is. And once she gets to know someone, she relaxes a little and eventually they hug or brush legs while watching movies or something. But she’s not going to deny that she’s felt relief every time she finds she’s not someone’s soulmate.
“Hurry up, Em,” Harper shouts from the living room of the apartment she shares with Harper and Monty. They’re soulmates and don’t share the same reservations as she does. It probably has something to do with the fact that they found each other when they were teenagers. And she’s happy for them, happy that their soulmate really is who they’re meant to be with. But she knows they got lucky. It doesn’t works out that well for everyone. She’s seen that first hand.
“Do we even have to go?” Emori mutters, grabbing her gloves off the dresser (specially designed by Raven to fit, despite the fused fingers on one of her hands) and pulling them on.
“We have to go,” Harper confirms, laughing softly. “We promised Bellamy and he needs the support.”
Emori sighs, pulling her coat tighter around her and stepping into the lounge room. She wants to support Bellamy, she’s so proud of what he’s achieved at his job. But she wishes supporting him didn’t involve lame office Christmas parties with people who immediately judge her.
They take the train to the party and she bumps shoulders with so many people that she pulls her coat tighter around her, despite the long sleeved and high neck dress she has on underneath. Sometimes she wishes she could just find her soulmate to tell them that it’s not what she wants. But she’s not ready to deal with that, so she keeps avoiding people.
The party isn’t much better, filled with business snobs that she’s terrified of touching. She’s introduced to people whose name’s she’ll never remember and ones she’ll try and forget. The food is fancier than she’s used to and it’s uncomfortably warm inside. It doesn’t take long before she’s hiding in a corner with Raven, rather than attempting to mingle. It’s just more their thing.
“There you guys are,” Bellamy calls, joining them beside the refreshments table. “I wanted to introduce you to Murphy, he’s going to be my partner next year.”
The man they’re introduced to looks as though he’d rather be anywhere but at the party, which Emori relates to. But he also offers his hand, which reminds her that she’d taken her gloves off to wash her hands earlier. And there is no way she’s shaking hands without them, so she keeps them firmly by her side. He looks at her challengingly before rolling his eyes and moving onto Raven, who takes his hand. There’s no explosion of golden tendrils on either of their hands, not that Emori was really expecting it, but she still feels the same weird sense of relief she always does.
“Nice to meet you both,” Murphy says, and it still feels like a challenge. One she’s tempted to rise to. But she doesn’t, she just smiles and let’s Bellamy lead the small talk for a couple of minutes before they’re called away.
“She has a thing about germs,” Bellamy says quietly when he leads Murphy back to the party. She’s grateful for the lie her friends keep up because she is sick of having to explain to strangers that she doesn’t want to touch her in case they’re her soulmate. Murphy shrugs and then they’re out of sight before she can hear a response.
“How do you do it?” Emori asks, tugging her gloves out of her pocket and pulling them back on.
“I don’t know,” Raven shrugs, squeezing her shoulder. “I guess I just got used to it.”
“How?”
“I really don’t know,” she says, obviously thinking about her answer, “I still get nervous meeting new people but I guess I’ll just deal with it, if and when it happens.”
“That’s a much easier mentality to have,” Emori sighs.
“You’ll get there,” Raven promises. “And if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll just keep making you the badass gloves.”
“What would I do without you?” She asks, leaning into her friend and smiling to herself. She’s built herself a great family.
“Crash and burn,” Raven grins. “Definitely.”
They get home from the Christmas party just before one and she’s a little tipsy and a little tired by the time she drops onto the couch in between Monty and Harper. She’s a lot surprised to find Murph Murphy on Facebook and not quick enough to move her phone away from Monty, who accepts it for her. Whatever, she’ll deal with it in the morning.
In the following week, Murphy likes one of her photos and she runs into him twice. Once when she drops a file off to Bellamy that he’d somehow left on their coffee table. Murphy is in the office with Bellamy, but it looks more like they’re talking about some movie than their work. Which is probably better for Bellamy’s end of year stress levels.
The second time she’s picking up coffee on her way to work when she runs into him. He’s careful not to touch her, but he smiles a greeting when he steps into line beside her. She really does appreciate the gesture, it’s not often that people actually accept the fact that she doesn’t like to be touched. Especially without questioning her or telling her they use a lot of sanitizer, ‘just so you know,’ first.
They order their coffees and are standing in an almost awkward silence while they wait for their drinks. She wants to say something, but has no idea what. She doesn’t know how to start a conversation with a virtual stranger. And the way he keeps glancing at her makes her wonder if he’s thinking the same.
Murphy is stepping forward as the barista calls ‘John,’ and she stares after him confused, coming the the conclusion that he’s about to take someone else’s drink.
“Wait,” she hisses, as he steps back from the counter. “That’s not yours.”
“Isn’t it?” He asks, perplexed.
“Is your name John?” She accuses, glancing to make sure no one has seen him take the coffee that’s not his.
“My first name is,” he says slowly, “I give my first name because they always manage to fuck up Murphy.”
“Oh,” Emori says, cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he smirks. “I’m used to accusations like that.”
She rolls her eyes, because she doesn’t know what else to say and then reaches for her own coffee. Her gloved fingers brush the hand of the guy holding her drink and she can’t help but wince.
He waits for her and they step onto the cold street together and she’s touched, he didn’t have to hang around after she accused him of trying to steal someone else’s drink.
“I’m headed this way, so…” he trails off, giving her a soft smile and an awkward wave.
“I’ll see you around, John,” she smiles which turns into a full grin when he rolls his eyes. She hardly knows the guy, but he’s endearing and funny and she wouldn’t mind if Bellamy was to turn their partnership into something more like a friendship, so she could see him around more often.
Her wish is granted at their annual-friends-who-have-nowhere-else-to-go-on-Christmas Christmas lunch. Monty and Harper have gone away for the week, spending the first few days with Monty’s parents and then the days after with Harper’s mum. Clarke is going with Lexa to visit her mum and step dad. Bellamy was supposed to be visiting his sister, but she’s decided to disappear on an impromptu hiking trip, so he’s taken over hosting to make himself feel better. This just means that their usual lowkey affair has been turned into something out of a Hallmark movie.
Bellamy’s gone overboard with the decorations, so his apartment looks as though it’s come directly from a Christmas catalogue but it’s warm and homely. And her friends are mostly already inside. Raven is talking to Wells and Gina, his soulmate. She had been Bellamy’s girlfriend when they met but she’d brushed shoulders with Wells at a party one night and tendrils of gold shot down both their arms. And to Emori’s complete surprise, Bellamy had been happy for them. Excited even. She still doesn’t understand. Doesn’t think she ever will.
Luna and Maya are arranging the Secret Santa presents under the tree and she’s got a suspicion they’re probably trying to work out who got who. Jasper and Bellamy are in the kitchen, arguing over whether or not they should spike the eggnog. It sounds as though Jasper is winning.
She joins Raven, hugging her friends and happily accepting the drink Raven is already handing her.
“Why do none of our friends have homes to go back to?” She asks, glancing fondly around the room. She loves that they almost all spend Christmas together.
“Because we keep adopting strays,” Raven says, nodding towards the door which has just opened. She’s more than a little surprised to see John standing in the door, looking sheepish but holding a gift wrapped in brown paper. Which means Bellamy has definitely found a way to include him in the Secret Santa they’d organised weeks ago.
“I like this stray,” Emori says, before clasping her hand over her mouth. That had come out so differently than she intended.
“Em,” Raven smirks, “do you have something to tell me?”
“What no?” She says, trying not to sound overly defensive. “I just think he’s alright.”
“Right,” Raven mutters, drawing the word out and rolling her eyes. She already doesn’t believe her.
It only takes a few minutes of teasing for Raven to move on, because Luna and Maya come to join them. And while Raven may be a pain, she’s a loyal friend and wouldn’t ever betray what she thinks is a secret. Even if it’s not. It was just awkward wording.
She accepts a second drink from Maya and quickly realises Jasper definitely won the spiking the eggnog argument and settles on the couch, with Raven sitting in her lap. They’re waiting for Bellamy to finish in the kitchen, so they can start opening presents. She feels like a kid on Christmas, knowing full well that it’s because she never got to experience feeling like a kid on Christmas. She’s forever grateful for the family she’s found.
“Finally,” Raven grins, when Bellamy joins them in the living room.
“You’re all so impatient,” he mutters, dropping down in front of the tree and starting to hand out the presents to their recipients.
Raven gets hers first and grins as she pulls a t-shirt out of the paper that reads, I need space, with the NASA symbol. Emori smirks at Luna, she’d helped her pick it last week. Wells gets a book that he’s been wanting to buy, Gina gets a about ten pairs of socks and gives Maya a knowing smile, so it must be some kind of joke between them. Jasper gets his gift, but she stops paying attention because Bellamy passes her hers and she gets too excited.
She tears the brown paper off, screws into a ball and throws it at Jasper, just because, before looking down at the gift sitting in her lap. It’s a little drawstring bag, made of black velvet. She opens it, tipping the contents into her palm. She can’t help the smile on her face when she sees the beaded bracelet, different coloured beads depicting the planets. All her friends know she’s been interested in space her whole life - it’s what had kick started her friendship with Raven, but the bracelet is perfectly her style and if she hadn’t helped Raven buy Bellamy’s gift, she’d assume it came from her.
“This is perfect,” Emori says, holding it up for the group to see before slipping it onto her wrist. She looks at each of her friends, trying to determine who gave it to her, but none of them give anything away. She glances at Raven, expecting her to tell her, but she just shrugs her shoulders and turns to Maya, who is now opening the gift Emori had gotten her.
After everyone has opened their presents and (with partial success) tried to figure out who’s theirs came from, Bellamy calls them to the table for lunch. They eat and chat and drink and eventually move back to the couches and Jasper turns up the music and plays Christmas carols loud enough that she’s sure the neighbours will complain.
It’s a good day, the kind that leaves her sleepy but not wanting to go home yet, because she’s having too much fun. It’s late when John drops down beside her on the couch. And she tenses for a moment, because the shirt she is wearing leaves a lot of her arms exposed. But he sits a safe distance away and she relaxes. He must have taken what Bellamy had said seriously, which she’s grateful for. Most people don’t.
“It looks like Santa threw up in here,” John tells her, offering her the second glass he’s holding. It’s a sweet gesture and the drink she’d been drinking all night, so he’s been paying attention. It makes her smile.
“Have you had a good night though?” She asks him.
“Yeah,” he says, “way better than my original plans of working today.”
“It should be illegal to work on Christmas,” she chastises, a little tipsy.
“I had nothing else to do,” he shrugs. “It’s cool that you guys do this though.”
“It is,” she hums in agreement, “it’s nice having somewhere to go on Christmas. And it’s nice that we can adopt lonely strays.” She leans in to bump his shoulder with hers but freezes at the last second, not able to bring herself to do it. She likes John but she doesn’t know him. She’s not willing to risk their skin touching yet.
“Yeah, the strays really appreciate it,” he grins and she can’t help grinning back. He ends up telling her that he doesn’t go home for Christmas because his dad is dead and his mum holds it against him and she tells him that she never really had parents and she lost her brother when they were teenagers. He asks about her hand, not in a rude way and when she tells him she was born with it, he tells her it’s badass. They keep talking and swapping stories until Raven dances over and pulls her up and leans into her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your flirting,” Raven whispers, loud enough that John hears and Emori flushes, grateful that he looks away and acts like he’s not listening. “But I want you to sleep at mine tonight and it’s time to go.”
Emori doesn’t argue, she doesn’t particularly want to go home to an empty apartment anymore than Raven does. But she doesn’t really want to stop talking to John.
“Hey,” John calls, before she gets dragged any further. Raven lets go of her hand, wiggles her eyebrows and disappears into the kitchen. “I was just... ugh, I was just wondering if you were going to that New Years party that Blake’s talking about?”
“I am,” Emori nods, feeling a little giddy at the idea that he’s interested enough to find out if she’s going to be there.
“I’ll see you there?” He asks and she’s definitely imagining the hope she hears in his voice. She smiles as she nods again.
Once she and Raven are in the hallway of Bellamy’s apartment building, Raven starts asking about John. She’s a little too disappointed when Emori tells her that she had just been talking to him and a little too over excited when she mentions he asked if they would be at the New Years party. She always gets over invested when she’s been drinking.
“Okay, all jokes aside,” Raven says, as they settle into her bed for the night. Her roommate is away for Christmas and Emori is pretty sure she’s going to stay here until Harper and Monty get home. “Do you like him?”
“I like him,” Emori says, “but I don’t know him. He’s just a good guy.”
“Whatever, you’re totally into him.”
Emori rolls her eyes, even though the lights are off and Raven can’t see her. But the more she thinks about, the more right she seems. It’s not like she wants to immediately go and touch him to find out if they’re soulmates or anything, but she’s interested in him. He’s funny and kind of charming in a very non-conventional way. And without any explanation from her, he’d accepted that she doesn’t want to be touched.
He’s definitely someone she wants to keep getting to know.
The bar they’re going to for New Years Eve is at the one Bellamy and his friend Miller used to work at. It’s where she’d met Raven and where they’d spent so many of their college nights. At this point, they only come back for New Years and the nostalgia, but she always loves it.
“You’re here,” Harper calls excitedly, throwing herself at Emori and pulling her into a hug. They haven’t seen each other since before Christmas.
“I am,” Emori confirms, letting go on Harper and pulling Monty into a hug.
She dances and laughs with her friends, verses Bellamy in a game of pool, steals handfuls of Monty’s fries and is so distracted that she doesn’t notice John approach her.
“Hey,” he calls above the music, stepping beside her. He’s dressed in black jeans and a maroon button down that looks way too good on him.
“Hey,” she grins, pulling her gloves higher on her arms and then offering him her hands to dance. He hesitates for half a second and she immediately regrets it, but then he takes her hands and they’re dancing. Neither of them really know what they’re doing, so it’s a lot of twirling and hip movements and laughter. And John is still careful not to touch her. She suspects by now that Bellamy probably told him the whole truth, but she can’t bring herself to be upset. She likes that he respects it. Likes that it doesn’t seem to bother him.
“I’m going to need to step in,” Raven says, pulling Emori away from John. She doesn’t miss the look of disappointment on his face and she turns to glare at Raven.
“What the fuck?”
“Shut up,” Raven hisses. “Bellamy just met his soulmate.”
“He - what?” Emori asks, brows furrowing together but this time obediently stepping after Raven.
“He was just playing pool with this girl and they were talking trash and I honestly thought it was going to end in a fight,” Raven explains, pulling Emori into the bathroom where it is a little quieter. “And they shook hands at the end and they’re fucking soulmates.”
“Whoa,” Emori mutters, a little lost for words. Bellamy had always been excited at the idea of meeting his soulmate but just assumed it wasn’t going to happen yet. And now he’s met her, in a bar on New Years . A girl he was trash talking and who probably beat him in pool. “Did you speak to her?”
“Not really,” Raven says, “she was really into the game. And then when they realised, they went off to talk.”
“So we won’t see Bellamy again for the night?”
“He told me he’d be back for midnight,” Raven says, “but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“I can’t believe it happened here,” Emori agrees, deciding the rest of the conversation can be had back in the bar. “Like of all places, here in our bar.”
“What a good story. Met on New Years,” Raven agrees. “Just another good memory to add to this place.”
“As long as it turns out well,” she mutters.
“Such a cynic, Em,” Raven grins, ruffling her hair dragging her back to the dance floor. She feels the disappointment a little too harshly when she realised John isn’t where she left him. Though she’s not surprised, because it had just been the two of them before Raven interrupted.
“He’s over there,” Raven says, nodding towards the bar. Emori wants to deny that she was looking for him, but he glances up at that moment and waves. “Go on.”
Emori ignores the smug look on Raven’s face as she crosses the bar and joins John. She ignores the eyes she can feel in the back of her head as she slides onto the stool next to him. She ignores that fact that she’s certain Raven is filling Harper and Monty in on Christmas and Emori’s several casual mentions of John since then.
“Everything okay?” Johns asks.
“Bellamy met his soulmate,” Emori says, raising her voice above the noise in the bar. “Raven was telling me.”
“No shit?” John asks, raising his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Some girl he was playing pool with.” She pauses then, wondering if it were her place to tell John about what had happened. The mark is on his hand, Emori rationalises, everyone is going to ask him about it anyway. If she’s the one that tells John, as least they won’t have to have the conversation at work later. It’s probably better this way.
“Do you want to go outside, so I can hear you?” John asks. She nods and follows him into the courtyard. It’s cold out, but she’s got long sleeves on and their are heaters lining the walls. And they can actually hear each other and have a proper conversation.
They talk about Bellamy’s soulmate, how he’s always been intrigued in his, but never actively looked. How John and him had spoken about them, John telling him that he doesn’t care. Emori is surprised when he adds that it’s not the truth though, he wants to find his. He wants there to be someone out there who cares about him and loves him unconditionally because he’s never really had that.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” he says after a moments silence and Emori is touched that he trusted her enough.
“I’m terrified of finding mine,” she says. It’s fair that she tells him considering, what he’s just told her. “I don’t want the universe to decide who I end up spending the rest of my life with.”
“Fuck the universe,” John tells her firmly. “You decide what you want to happen.”
“That’s why I wear the gloves,” she continues, even though she’s pretty sure he already knows. “If I never touch anyone, I won’t find them. And then I can decide for myself.”
“And if you did find them?”
“They’re my soulmate I guess,” she shrugs. “I just hope they’ll understand.”
“They’re meant for you,” he says. “They will.”
Bellamy’s soulmate is named Echo and she’s tall and terrifying, with kind eyes and a big heart. Emori likes her immediately. She fits in almost seamlessly with the group, only rubbing Clarke the wrong way. But even she is beginning to warm up to her.
Her and Bellamy are taking things slowly, going on dates and getting to know each other. He brings her to some events and not to others. They spend a lot of their free time together and they seem to really like each other. And by March, Echo is having a girls night with Raven, Harper and Emori. She’s become part of the group, not just Bellamy’s soulmate.
“What was it like?” Raven asks, as she clicks through the Netflix options. “When you met him?”
“I didn’t even notice at first,” Echo laughs, looking down at the gold winding down her right hand. Objectively, it is beautiful. “I was too busy bragging about beating him. But then he was staring at our hands with like, the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. And then I felt it. I don’t know how to explain because it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.”
“I know what you mean,” Harper says, touching the mark on her shoulder. Monty had tapped it to get past her in the halls one day, shocked when it exploded with gold. “I don’t know how to describe it either.”
“And that was it?” Emori asks.
“I was always anxious about finding mine,” Echo says softly. “So I don’t blame you for the gloves, Em. I can’t believe how well it turned out for me.”
“Yeah, you got us,” Raven grins, selecting a movie and settling back onto the couch.
“Yes, that’s definitely what I meant,” Echo laughs.
Emori stops pay attention to the movie, too distracted by the message she gets from John. Next time I agree to help someone move, remind me to do it for something more than pizza. Bellamy had asked him to help Miller move into his new apartment and John and she’s surprised it’s taken him this long to complain.
I’ll be sure to do that, she replies, smiling down at her phone. And then, they’re texting back and forth until Raven reaches for her phone.
“Who are you texting so much? It’s girls night.” She asks. Emori pulls her phone out of Raven’s reach, only to have it grabbed by Echo.
“Traitor,” she mutters, conceding defeat and letting them see her messages.
“It’s Murphy,” Raven exclaims excitedly, practically climbing over Emori to look at her phone. “Tell me there is something going on there?”
“We’re just friends,” Emori shrugs. “He’s complaining about helping Miller move.”
“You’ve been texting for almost an hour,” Harper grins, reading over Echo’s shoulder. “It’s definitely more than him complaining.”
“You guys are the worst,” she complains, covering her eyes with her hands and shrinking back into the couch.
By the time April comes to an end, Emori can admit that John is one of her best friends. And part of her family. He fits in with the group as well as Echo does, finding his place (often as the sarcastic arsehole) and settling in. She’s also big enough to admit that she’s developing a crush on him, which is not ideal. She’s pretty sure he buys too much into soulmates to be willing to be with her despite it all. Even though Raven says he’s flirting and Harper insists that he’s into her as well. Even Echo points out one evening that he’s always drawn to her when she walks into a room.
But they’re just friends.
And that’s fine, because they’ve grown so close in such a short time. She’s not willing to risk their friendship by telling him about feelings he might return. So she keeps them to herself, focussing on their friendship and remaining careful not to touch him. Except now, as each day passes, it’s not because she’s scared of what he might be. It’s because she’s scared he won’t be it. And she would be okay with that. But soulmates don’t mean the same to her as they do to him.
So she stamps down her feelings.
“You’re late,” Emori says lightly when, John finally steps out of his office.
“Bellamy decided we needed to finish the entire weeks worth of work today,” John grumbles, but his face definitely lit up when he saw her.
“Poor baby,” she teases, nudging his shoulder with her covered one. Despite the warm April evening, she’s got cardigan on. “Having to do so much work.”
“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes and leads the way down the street to what has become their favourite Thai restaurant. It’s become a routine of theirs. After her Thursday class, she meets him at the building he and Bellamy work at and they get takeout and watch Netflix on his couch. It’s something her friends won’t shut up about and she can only hope they don’t give him the same treatment.
“Whatever,” Emori grins, walking beside him. She ignores the temptation to take his hand, keeping hers firmly in her pockets. She doesn’t need to know that the guy she’s falling for is probably not her soulmate and therefore not willing to seriously be in a relationship with her.
They order their food and split the bill and are sitting on his couch, arguing over what to watch on Netflix by 6 o’clock. It’s her favourite day and the week, which is just another thing she’s not going to address.
It’s comfortable, sitting and arguing and eating and flirting with him. And it’s the most comfortable she’s ever felt with anyone who she’s not touched. She just wishes she was brave enough to tell him.
Instead she settles in beside him, leaning against him when he pulls a blanket over his exposed skin. It’s a lot. And it’s not fair on him. But he’s never once complained.
“What do you want to watch?” Emori calls, from the couch. It’s their regular Thursday hangout and John is in the kitchen of her apartment insisting on cooking. Because we get too much take out.
“Something good,” he calls back.
“Forever helpful.” She flicks through Netflix, settling on rewatching Brooklyn 99 because she knows it won’t take long for them to get distracted with conversation. Because they always do.
She’s halfway through the first episode when he finally joins her on the couch, handing her a plate of the pasta he’d been making. It’s chicken and avocado, which she would have never thought would make such a good combination. But he’s such a good cook. She shouldn’t have doubted him.
They don’t even make it to the end of the episode, before the TV is muted and they’re chatting idly. John is telling her a story about one of the clients he’d dealt with and it doesn’t take long before she’s laughing.
“Can I ask you something?” John asks softly, after she’s regained her voice.
“Sure?” She freezes, not knowing what to expect.
“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?”
If she’s honest with herself, she’s been waiting for this question since she told him that she didn’t buy into them. And it’s complicated, but she trusts him enough to explain it.
“My parents were soulmates,” she says slowly, thinking about how she’s going to answer the question. Her parents aren’t a happy story. “But they led each other down such toxic pathways, that they self destructed when my brother and I were babies. They might have been meant for each other, but they weren’t good for each other. If their situations were different, maybe it would have worked.”
“I’m sorry,” John says quietly. “What happened?”
“They died,” she says simply. “Otan and I were in foster care our whole lives. We had a place for a few years when we were teenagers and he met his soulmate. She was great, she made him happy.”
“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?” John asks and she nods.
“But she got him killed too. She was involved in some shit and it followed her home and got them both killed. I was alone from when I was 16.”
“Shit,” John says lowly. She nods again. Her story isn’t a happy one.
“I met Bellamy and Raven when I was 18, it’s been good since then,” she smiles softly. “And I met some nerd who cooks for me a few months ago, he’s pretty cool.”
“Watch who you’re calling a nerd,” John grins.
“I know exactly who I’m calling a nerd.”
“My parents were soulmates too,” John says. Quid pro quo. “But my dad was killed when he was picking up antibiotics for me when I was a kid. Wrong place, wrong time. My mother held it against me until I left home. She never got over losing him.”
“She shouldn’t have held it against you,” Emori says, anger rising at the thought of a young John being mistreated just because his dad wanted to help him. He didn’t deserve that.”
“She shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “But before that, they loved each other so much. I just want to find the person who loves me as much as they did.”
She doesn’t notice that he doesn’t mention his soulmate.
Raven meets her soulmate in September. He’s sweet and funny and smart, someone who can challenge Raven in all the best ways. She hadn’t known him very long when they’d worked it out. He was the new guy at the garage she basically ran, while she is finishing her masters and Emori had heard her speak about him a few times in the days leading up to it. He’d been working underneath a car and brushed against Raven’s leg as he slid out from underneath.
In true Raven fashion, she’d decided they would talk about it at the end of their shifts and walked off. Later, she tells Emori that she needed time to wrap her head around the fact that she’d met him. They’d gone to dinner and Raven fell hard and fast, which scared her, almost scared her into backing away. But she persisted and now she’s invited him to the beach, to meet her friends.
It’s the first day they all have off in months, which has led to Harper and Luna’s extravagant plans for a picnic at the beach. It had sounded so simple when they suggested it, but now as Emori helps Monty shoves yet another cooler into the trunk of his car and then squeezes into the backseat between bags of stuff she doesn’t think will even make it out of the car.
“Packed enough?” She teases Harper when she climbs into the front seat.
“I was actually thinking about going back inside and getting more,” Harper says, without looking up from her phone where she is probably typing another message to Luna. “I think we’ll probably need the couch?”
The drive to the beach is cramped, worse once they pick up Echo and by the time they get there, Emori almost falls out ot the car.
She’s introduced to Zeke, who she likes immediately. He laughs at one of her jokes and looks at Raven with total adoration, which is basically all Emori could ask of her best friends soulmate. He offers to help Monty carry everything, which also gets him points and gives her time to gossip with Raven, Harper and Echo.
“He seems great,” Emori says quietly, the second they’re out of earshot.
“I really like him,” Raven confesses, as though it’s something they couldn’t already tell.
“He’s your soulmate,” Harper says softly, “of course you do.”
“I think I’d like him anyway,” Raven says hurriedly, “I don’t like him just because he’s my soulmate.”
Emori can’t help but to think of John in that moment. Because she likes him. She likes him more than she really wanted to, she thinks she likes him the way you’re supposed to like a soulmate. Likes him despite his flaws, despite his attitude, despite everything. She wants to touch him because maybe they will be. Because this should be how you feel about your soulmate. And while she may not believe in them, if he was hers, she’d know that that’s not why she likes him.
She’s fallen in love anyway.
She listens to Raven gush Zeke for a moment longer and then the others arrive. They go down to the sand to help set up, laying out the insane amount of food Harper and Luna had organised. When everything is laid out and appropriate instagram photos have been captured, they can finally eat. They tell stories and gossip and trade information about their year because they haven’t been together as a whole group since New Years.
The day passes in a semi haze of laughter and saltwater and sunshine. It’s getting too cold, but they swim anyway, splashing and wrestling each other into the water. Emori screams when Wells grabs her ankles and pulls her under, but laughs as he does the same thing to Luna. They slowly move back onto the sand, to soak up the last of the sun and continue their conversations. It’s getting late by the time Jasper pulls out a flask.
“I’m not even surprised,” Emori says quietly, watching as he tops drinks up with whatever he’s got. It’s not enough to get them drunk (which is probably for the best, Luna might literally kill him). But it’s so like Jasper to bring it.
“Neither am I,” John says, rolling his eyes.
“This was a good idea,” Emori says after a moment. She means the whole day, but she also likes the time they’re spending with just the two of them. She always does.
“Totally over the top though,” John says and she knows it’s just his way of agreeing with her. She knows him so well now.
They’re sitting away from the group, watching the sunset over the ocean and wrapped in their towels, protecting themselves from the chill in the air. And from touching each other. She thinks about it, thinks about leaning across and brushing her fingers against his wrist, just so she’d know. She thinks about gently bumping her shoulder against his, where the towel has slipped.
And she thinks about just telling him the truth. That she likes - probably loves - him. Asking him if he’s willing to take the chance, despite the fact they might not be soulmates. Asking him if he’s willing to stop looking, because it doesn’t have to be his soulmate that loves him unconditionally. It could be her. It is her.
She’s so deep in thought, arguing with herself over whether or not she should talk to him that she doesn’t notice John getting up. She doesn’t move away in time and while she’s staring at the ocean in front of of them, she feels him brush against the leg she’s sitting on.
She holds her breath, waiting for the feeling Harper, Echo and now Raven have all described to her. And for the first time in her life she feels a bitter disappointment when it doesn’t come. John isn’t her soulmate. He’s not the person meant for her. More importantly, she’s not the person meant for him.
She forces herself to look up at him and feels her heart shatter once more when he’s looking down at her with a smile. It hasn’t occurred to them that they’re not soulmates. Or maybe it just doesn’t bother him.
“You coming or what?” He asks, nodding towards where their friends are packing the cars.
“Sure,” she says, standing up and walking away before he can register the pain on her face.
“Are you okay?” He asks again, hurrying after her.
“I’m fine, John,” she forces a smile on her face as she climbs into the back of Monty’s car. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay?” His brow furrows and he’s looking at her with concern she doesn’t know how to deal with because just moments ago, she would have thought you wouldn’t look at a friend that way.
She watches him glance back as he walks towards Bellamy’s car, confusion still evident on his face. She pulls her door shut and draws her knees to her chest, waiting for Echo and Harper to get in the car. She knows she should get out and help, but she doesn’t know how to deal with what she’s just found out.
“Ready?” Monty asks, after what feels like hours of John looking intently at her through the window, trying to catch her eye.
The others talk about the day, oblivious to Emori’s distress. She’s okay with that though, she kind of just wants to get home so she can wrap her head around what’s happened. Around her feelings. Because it’s not like her to feel like this. She needs time to process.
They pull into the carpark of Echo’s apartment complex without Emori really paying attention and she’s about to mutter a goodbye when Echo speaks.
“Em, I need your help with something. Come up?”
She sighs, because she doesn’t really want to, but she doesn’t have an excuse. And Echo is her friend, so she nods and climbs out of the car, telling Harper and Monty that she’ll see them later.
“What’s up with you?” Echo asks, as soon as they’re in the building and trudging up the three flights of stairs to her apartment.
“Nothing?” Emori responds, feigning confusion.
Echo asks again and it takes until they she’s turning the key in the door for Emori to decide to tell her. She’s one of her best friends and she probably has good advice on the subject anyway.
“John isn’t my soulmate.”
“Oh Em,” Echo says, looking at her with more sympathy than the situation necessarily warrants. “We all thought - what happened?”
“He touched my leg at the beach, just before we left,” she says quietly, dropping onto the couch. “And I was almost waiting for it to happen? Because I really like him and he really believes in soulmates so I wanted to be that. I wanted to be that for him” Her voice cracks, but she’s not going to cry over this. She’s not going to let soulmates make her cry.
“Did he say anything?”
“No,” Emori shakes her head. “He didn’t even acknowledge that it’d happened. After months of being so careful, he didn’t say a word.”
“I’m really sorry,” Echo says, dropping down beside her and opening her arms. Emori slides up to her friend - sister - and accepts the hug. “For what it’s worth, I think he really likes you too and I think you should talk to him about it. You’re right, the universe doesn’t get to pick who you end up with. That’s on you, girl.”
“You think he likes me?”
“We all think he likes you.”
While Echo’s words don’t really solve the problem, they do make her think. She’s never once let the universe decide what she does. Why should she start now? That’s not who she is.
After deciding not to let the fact that John isn’t her soulmate stop her, things don’t really change. She sends him a message that night, apologising for being weird on the beach and he replies telling her it’s fine and that he hopes she’s feeling better. She smiles at her phone for a moment before telling him goodnight. She really does like him. And she’s not going to let the fact they’re not soulmates stop that.
In the following weeks, her friendship with John doesn’t change. He’s still careful not to touch her, which she still thinks is weird, and he doesn’t mention the fact that they’re not soulmates, so neither does she. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, they don’t have to. Especially because they’re still hanging out and she’s pretty sure that he’s flirting with her.
“Maybe he doesn’t care that you’re not soulmates,” Harper says, one night when Monty is at Jasper’s and it’s just the two of them.
“He’s always said he wants to find his soulmate,” Emori mutters. “Why would that just change?”
“You tell me?” Harper responds, her eyebrow raised challenging. Emori knows that she wants her to admit that he’d change his mind because of her. They’ve been dancing around whatever they are for nearly a year. She loves him and she thinks he loves her back.
“Say he is into me now and we go for it and date and whatever,” she says. “What happens when he finds his soulmate later?” Emori doesn’t know anyone who has ever chosen to stay in a previous relationship after finding their soulmate. She’s seen hearts broken when people break up because of it. She doesn’t want to have hers broken too.
“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him,” Harper says softly. “Even on the off chance he doesn’t want to try, at least you’ll know.”
It’s easy for Harper to say. Her soulmate was the first person she’d ever loved and the person who was perfect for her. And while Emori still values her opinion and loves that she can talk this through with her friend, she doesn’t understand. Harper has never been in this position. None of her friends have. Sure, they casually dated before finding their soulmates, but Emori doesn’t want casual with John. If they start something, she wants it to be forever.
And she’s not sure he can be that for her.
John still messages her on Saturday nights and invites her over to watch movies and they still hang out on Thursdays. And he asks her for advice about the rude client he’s dealing with. And he tags her in things that make her laugh. And he asks her to help him pick a present for his office Secret Santa. And she just doesn’t know anymore.
It’s two weeks until Christmas and they’re walking through the mall, picking out gifts and making plans for dinner.
“I got you that last year,” John tells her suddenly, reaching over and carefully touching the bracelet on her wrist, keeping his fingers away from the skin exposed between the pair of gloves she’s wearing and the sleeve of her shirt. It’s the space bracelet that she’s hardly taken off since getting it. She’d never figured out who’d given it to her.
“You did?” She asks, looking up from where his hand is now pulling away.
“Bellamy got you, but he added me to the Secret Santa at the end and told me to get yours. He said you were into space,” John shrugs. “And I’d met you once and I didn’t know if you’d like it.”
“I love it,” she says, twisting it on her wrist. She doesn’t need to tell him that she loves it even more now that she knows where it came from. “I wear it all the time.”
“I know,” he smiles, leading the way into another shop. “I need to get my Secret Santa something as good this year. I’ve got a reputation now.”
“Who do you have?” Emori asks, knowing exactly what he’s going to say before he says it. “I can help you.”
“It’s ruin sanctity of Secret Santa.”
“As if you care about the sanctity of Secret Santa,” she laughs, leaning in and bumping him as they walk, smiling when he bumps her shoulder back. She wants this, wants to be able to walk through the mall with him and laugh and joke and not worry about who their soulmates are. She wants to be with him.
She needs to talk to him.
Raven is hosting the annual-friends-who-have-nowhere-else-to-go-on-Christmas Christmas lunch, with Zeke’s help, this year and it’s already more casual than Bellamy’s the year before. She’s (Zeke’s) cooked and it’s already prepared when they arrive. The apartment is decorated, but just with what Raven already had, so it doesn’t look like ‘Santa threw up’. Emori drops her present under the tree and then joins Raven and the others in the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas, babe,” Raven says, hugging her.
“Merry Christmas,” she repeats, moving over to hug Echo.
Next is John and she’s hit with the realisation that she’s never hugged him before. He’s always been too careful around her. He looks at her questioningly and she smiles as she steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. He keeps his face far enough away from her that they don’t touch and she’s still wearing her coat and gloves. She still melts into him a little though, revelling in the feeling of his arms around her waist.
She let’s go first and it’s only because she can feel Echo and Raven smirking and the curious looks from the others. She doesn’t need to try and explain that she’s in love with someone who’s not her soulmate today.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispers softly, looking at her. She smiles again and it’s a moment just for them. A moment she never wants to leave. But then Jasper basically tackles her into a hug and the moment dissolves into laughter as she tries to stop them hitting the floor.
Raven insists on presents first and once Luna arrives, ushers them all out of the kitchen and instructs them to sit around the tree. She doesn’t pay attention to the other gifts getting passed around, too intent on waiting for John to get his. It’s from her and she’d spent so long picking it out.
Raven throws him the present and he tears open the package, pulling out a dark jacket, with red spiked shoulders. She’d found it at a Thrift Shop and bought it immediately. It’s not his present, it’s just how she hid them. It takes him a moment, but he finally notices the two pieces of paper, sticking out the pocket of his jacket. Tickets it to the Old Film Festival they’d been talking about weeks ago, but it had sold out before they made up their mind. Emori had found two for sale online and had bought them even before she found out John was her Secret Santa. She’d gone way over their budget, but she didn’t mind. Half of it was for her anyway.
“This is perfect,” John says, looking up at her. There’s no way they could be from anyone else. “How did you manage this?”
“A magician never reveals their secrets,” she grins, tapping her nose.
“I’m taking you,” he tells her, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” she agrees, reaching out to take the present Raven is holding out for her. She grins when she tears off the paper, because it’s obviously from John. It’s a kitchen knife set and he’d been complaining about hers since the first night he cooked dinner at her house. He’s also smirking at her.
“Thanks,” she laughs, “I expect so many more home cooked meals from you.”
“I’m going to regret getting you those,” he mutters, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. For a second, Emori wonders if Bellamy had somehow managed to rig the Secret Santa so she and John got each other. But it’s not like it’s a huge group, it’s could just be a coincidence.
The rest of the afternoon passes smoothly, with only the usual amount of shenanigans and teasing from her friends. Like she is every time they get together, she’s struck with gratitude for her friends - her family. She loves them all so much.
Until Bellamy corners her, towards the end of the day and asks her about John. It’s the last thing she suspected and it really shouldn’t have been. Bellamy and John work together, they see each other almost daily. She knows they’ve spoken about her, Bellamy had told him about her aversion to soulmates in the first place. And she’s sure they’ve continued that conversation since. Especially considering Bellamy would be talking about them with Echo. Honestly, her friends are such gossips.
“He wants his soulmate and I’m not that,” she says, a little forcefully. Which is a kind of unfair, but she’s sick of saying it.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, he touched me that day at the beach.”
“Are you sure?” Bellamy presses.
“Do you know something I don’t?” She almost snaps, looking at him and trying to work out if he knows something or is just being difficult. She loves Bellamy but she’s doesn’t feel like trying to figure out what he’s talking about.
“Just, think about it,” Bellamy sighs, looking as though he has something else to say. She waits for a moment but he doesn’t give her any hint on what she’s supposed to think about, nor does he add to it.
“Right,” she nods, “Have you had too much eggnog?”
“I didn’t actually let you Jasper spike it this year,” he grins, turning to join the others who are playing some card game Wells got at the dining table.
“Bellamy’s being weird,” Emori mutters, dropping on the couch beside John. It reminds her a little of the Christmas the year before, before she was in love with him. Sitting on the couch together, talking about the others. Getting to know each other. Becoming friends.
“When isn’t Bellamy weird?” John asks.
Emori laughs, glancing back at him. He’s moved away from the table and is standing with Raven and Echo, almost definitely talking about her and John.
“They’re talking about us, aren’t they?” Emori whispers.
“Definitely.”
She thinks about the fact that he instantly agreed they were talking about them, meaning he thinks they have a reason. She thinks about the words Bellamy had said to her, ’just think about it.’ Thinks about the moment in the kitchen where neither of them wanted to pull away. And for the first time, she actually thinks that maybe John loves her too, despite not being soulmates.
She almost asks him about it, needing to know, but they’re in a room full of their friends who will almost definitely not leave them alone long enough to have that conversation. They’re far too meddlesome for that. And it’s getting late. She knows he’s going to head home soon and she’ll stay with Raven. It’ll probably be good, talking to her friend about it first.
She’s right, not even half an hour later, their friends are filing about of the apartment and it’s just her and Raven, sprawled on the couch, leaning against each other.
“I’m going to go for it,” Emori says, a little sleepily.
“You should,” Raven insists. “You’ll feel better if you do.”
“What if he doesn’t want me?”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Raven shrugs and Emori gets the feeling that she knows something too. But they fall asleep before she can take the conversation further.
Emori doesn’t see John again until New Years. She spends the six days waiting in nervous anticipation because she’s going to tell him how she feels. She’s not sure how she’s going to do it but she’s going to. He deserves to know and at this stage and she’s fairly hopeful that he feels the same way.
The bar is crowded when they arrive like it always is but they find their friends leaning against the bar. Luna offers to buy her a drink, but she shakes her head. She’s too nervous, she doesn’t need alcohol in her system as well.
She spends a lot of the night with John. He takes her hand as they move through the crowds and while she’s still wearing her gloves, their fingers intertwined sends goosebumps down her arms. She wants this. They dance together and play bar games and heckle their friends. They even sit back down in the courtyard, where they sat last year when they spoke about soulmates. But it never feels like the right time to tell him.
Echo, Raven and Harper whisper encouragement throughout the night. They remind her of all the reasons that they think he loves her back. They remind her that she’ll never know unless she gives it a go.
And then all too soon the countdown begins. They’ve moved outside, so they can watch the fireworks and have a little more space.
10, 9…
She’s standing next to him, thinking of the last year and how important he’s become to her. All the memories they’ve shared. How close they’ve become. How much they’ve learnt from each other. How they’ve grown together.
8, 7…
He’s one of her favourite people in the world, they’re best friends even if she wasn’t in love with him. He means the world to her. He’s part of her family.
6, 5…
And he’s looking down at her, with soft eyes and a soft smile and it’s not how you look at someone who is your friend. Because it’s not fair to look at them like that, because it makes them fall even more in love.
4, 3…
She’s going to tell him.
2, 1, Happy New Year!
She brings her gloved hands to his face and pulls him towards her. The best way to tell him how she feels is to show him. She presses her lips against his and he’s kissing her back instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling close.
And suddenly she feels warm all over, like sparks are shooting through her body. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before and she doesn’t know how to describe it.
“Em,” John whispers when he pulls away. She wants to chase his lips but she should probably make sure they’re on the same page first.
She opens her eyes and gasps. The gold that she’s become so familiar with on her friends skin, has spread from his lips and across his cheeks, in swirling patterns. The marks that means they’re soulmates.
She brings her hand to her own face, it doesn’t feel any different but the way he’s looking at her is enough confirmation. The pattern is on her face as well.
“But you touched me,” she says slowly. “That day at the beach.”
“I never touched you,” he shakes his head. “It would have been my towel or something.” And she realises that her friends had already made the connection. That they knew he didn’t touch her. They probably didn’t want to get hopes up which is why they were being cryptic. The conversation with Bellamy is suddenly making more sense.
“We’re soulmates,” she says, a smile growing on her face.
“We’re soulmates,” he repeats. “I know you don’t believe in them, but I love you. I’d want this even if we weren’t. You have to know that.”
“John,” she whispers, moving her hand to trace the mark on his skin. “I love you too.”
She’s going to tell him that she’s loved him for months. That she was upset when she thought they weren’t soulmates. That she was hoping he’d be willing to be with her anyway. She’s going to tell him everything. But she’s going to tell him once they’re alone.
Now, she’s going to kiss him again. And keep kissing him. And ignore the cheers and I-told-you-so’s of their friends.
Murphy slips on a patch of ice on a sidewalk in mid October, and drags a girl with warm brown eyes and a blinding smile down with him. He thinks thats probably the end of it, but the universe seems to have other plans. She reappears in his life, and slowly becomes the biggest part of it, and his feelings keep bubbling up, because Emori might just be the best thing that ever happened to him.
To @the-most-beautiful-broom from @dylanobrienisbatman for Merry Memori 2018.
Read on AO3
A late fall morning. An icy sidewalk. An arm reaching out for nothing in particular, to stay vertical.
A girl.
Falling to the ground as he dragged a stranger down with him.
Her giggle, warm and pretty ringing in his ears.
John Murphy had been walking to work on an icy Tuesday morning in October, an early frost and no salt creating a slick ground beneath his loafers. He tried to walk with confidence, that’s what his mom had always said about walking in ice and snow. If you walk with confidence, you won’t fall.
His mom was wrong.
He took a strong step and hit a patch of ice and went sliding. He found his arms out wildly in any direction, hoping he’d come into contact with something solid to keep him from falling. Instead, all he found was the slick material of the outside of someone’s coat, and it was too late.
He hit the ground, hard, his tailbone slamming into the concrete, and felt another body slam down next to him.
He opened his mouth to apologise, and then he heard her laughter.
She laid there, back on the ground staring up at the sky, giggling like a little kid.
Her smile was blinding, crinkles by her eyes and her nose all scrunched as she laughed.
She eventually calmed, and he piped up.
“I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, yeah, are YOU alright? I practically yanked you down with me.”
“I’m fine. Weirdly I feel like I needed that.”
“Needed to bruise your tailbone?”
“Needed to get out of my head a little, needed something out of the blue to shake my day up.”
“Happy to help shake in whatever way I can….”
“Emori.”
“Emori. I’m John.”
He realised they were still lying back up on the city sidewalk. People were starting to stare. He hauled himself up and offered her his right hand, when she paused, stuffing her left hand back into her coat. He switched his arms and she took his hand, letting herself be pulled up.
“Nice to meet you, John,” She said, smiling at him before turning and walking away.
“Bye” he called after her, lamely. She peaked over her shoulder before rounding the corner and waved.
And that was that.
He went to work, his own restaurant that he’d managed to open in the city. Just a small Italian place, but he loved it. His friend Harper ran the business, and he cooked the food, and it was nice. A place all his own.
He iced his ass that night while nursing a beer and picking through a list from his vegetable grower, trying to find the specials for the week.
He fell asleep with Emori’s crinkled eyes and brilliant smile in his mind.
He winced when he sat down at lunch with Raven and Bellamy the next day, waiting for Clarke to show up.
“What happened to you?” Raven asked, barely looking up from her menu from where she sat on his left.
“Thanks for your concern.”
“Meh.” She said, still not looking up.
“She’s got a point, what’s wrong with you?” Bellamy asked, a little more kindness in his voice.
“I slipped on the ice on the way to work yesterday and busted my ass. I’m fine, but I feel bad for the girl I dragged down with me.”
“The who what?” Raven asked, suddenly interested.
“Yeah I was on my way to work, and I hit a slick spot, and I was going down, so I reached out to try to find something to grab onto, and I got some girls shoulder and she came down with me.”
“Damn dude, was she pissed?” Raven said. Clarke showed up at that moment, sliding into the table and pressing a kiss into Bellamy’s cheek.
“No, sh-“
“Was who pissed?” Clarke asked.
“Murphy ate it yesterday and dragged some poor girl down with him.”
“No, she wasn’t pissed. She… laughed, actually.”
“She laughed? Is she nuts?”
“I don’t think so. She hit the ground, and just… started laughing. I don’t know, guys.”
“Whats that face, Murphy?” Clarke asked, prying ever so slightly, as was her way.
“What are you talking about?” He said, trying to pull off a blank expression.
“I bet she was cute.”
“Shut up.”
“She WAS cute.” Raven said, laughing.
“Well, did you get her number?”
“I barely got her name, and I wasn’t going to ask for her number? We said maybe four sentences to each other, and I caused her physical injury. Now can we drop this, and maybe talk about something else? Like, I don’t know… literally anything?”
They all scoffed, but the conversation moved on, and he hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
A week or so later, he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs of his walk up, stepping outside and turning to pull it closed, when something collided with him, spilling his coffee all down his front. He turned to curse or yell, but was met with big brown eyes and a horrified expression that quickly turned to a smile.
Also, if it’s not included with your gift, will you please send me who your giftee was? my Excel spreadsheet goofed and didn’t save the cells that showed who got what from who :///
Hi! Is it okay if I end up writing a slightly long fic when I said I could only write a short one? There wasn't anything specified about the length on the message I received, probably because it's kind of obvious, but I've been wondering. Anyway, thanks!
Absolutely!! Thank you for asking, and YES of course please write as much as you want! Your person will Love it, guaranteed :)
Hi friends! Just wanted to apologize for not yet sending out the pairings and prompts for Merry Memori. Life happens, things get busy and sadly, there’s only 24 hours in my day :/ I swear they will be to you by tomorrow (Dec. 2).
Love you lots <3
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