one of the many reasons Fleabag is so heartbreaking and relatable is because no one ever chose her. Not her family. Not her lovers. Not her supposed “soulmate”. The one person that picked her died. She was no one’s choice or option, not even to herself. The way we can feel her loneliness through the screen is enough to make me collapse into a mess of tears on the ground and shake uncontrollably
This townhouse had been in Rhys' family for generations, its living room a witness to almost all their hangovers, but now that the happy couple had officially moved in, the space was unrecognizable. Feyre's paintings hang on every wall, and instead of the mismatched cups they had collected over the years, a new set was now waiting to be used. The boxes with the old stuff were stored away, so Feyre and Rhys could start filling the rooms with their own belongings.
Cassian's heart warmed when he saw the place. Of course, a part of him missed the sense of familiarity when he entered a room, but at least he got to be part of the new memories they would make here.
The joy of the night was that, and collecting the jackpot. "How in hell did you miss this happening?" Cassian poked fun at Amren, who hadn't guessed correctly in the poll made almost 10 years ago about who would move in with their partner first.
"I thought you and Az would move in together and be the type of roommates who have the entire block wondering if they are really good friends or really good friends." Amren wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Cassian roared laughing again. She waved her piece of paper in the air accusingly, as if it was his fault she lost.
Fifty bucks wasn't a fortune, but it was definitely more than the others got. Mor had trusted her own ability to find a partner quicker than the rest. Amren had put all her eggs in the basket of a bromance that never happened. Az himself had been 15 years old and in love, and therefore it was Mor's name on his piece of paper. And Rhys, in an unexpected turn of events, had tried to make a joke out of putting Amren's name on it next to a poorly drawn knife, as if implying she would be the first one to move in with her partner, but violence would be involved.
Not only didn't he win, but, to his disappointment, he didn't even get a laugh out of the crowd.
So Cassian was now fifty dollars richer than he was that morning.
"I'm a little hurt no one put me." He confessed, the grin still hanging on his lips.
Rhys rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, you know you'll be last. I think Amren's hunch was right: You'll live with friends until all of us move out." The collective agreement when all the guests laughed, had Cassian frowning. "What?" Rhys saw the need to explain himself when he saw Cassian wasn't joining in the laughter. "You are the kind of guy who would rather spend time with friends than anything else. And I'm not complaining!" Again, everyone agreed.
Mor went a little further with the explanation that, apparently, only Cassian needed. "Cass, we know we are lucky to have you. I would hate having to share the best friend ever with anyone but the people in this room. And your career will also benefit from it."
Indeed, his prospects to go pro within the next year did benefit from him not having to divide his time three ways: football, friends and love life. There was still something that bothered him, though. But Cassian knew he should be grateful for how blindly his friends trusted that he would always be there for them. That was his role, after all. Good, reliable, always willing Cassian.
It's my fault, I'm the one who never sought a love life in the first place. Cassian thought, trying to rub it off.
But the itch didn't go away—not fully. Deep down, Cassian knew it didn't make sense, as Rhy's dream career was the exact same one he was pursuing. And love had never been something he was expected to give up in order to achieve it. Just the opposite: they were here celebrating it.
"I mean," Amren was adding now, as the conversation had kept going without him, "we don't even have enough chairs to grant you a plus one, so even if we wanted that for you," She shrugged, "we can't afford it."
Ouch.
"Yeah, I get it." He laughed without feeling it, doing his best to mask it. The topic clearly wouldn't die until he agreed. "As me being in a relationship would be inconvenient for all of us, I promise you I never will." He placed a hand over his heart as he made his vow.
As simple as that, everyone moved on.
The paint color for the walls was perfect. Were they thinking of adding a lamp in that dark corner? Mor made a point to mention how trendy wall molding was at the moment, and Az made a point to mention how that kind of feature only collected dust. The extra cleaning was a dealbreaker for Feyre; she had noticed in the last few days how much dust the paintings collected and wasn't planning on spending even more time cleaning the walls.
Football and the draft being around the corner was the next topic, one Cassian was thrilled to get into. He expected to be picked in the first round, and so did Rhys.
"You've got it, man." There was not a pinch of doubt in his friend's voice. "My dad heard our city's team wants you, so it's a done deal. Next season, you'll be playing for Velaris."
"It would make more sense to pick you in the first round: quarterback, team captain and the mayor's son." Cassian argued.
Az didn't fully agree. "I don't know, Cass. Your stats are better. If they don't pick you in the first round, you might not be there for the second one."
The three of them got deep into the discussion and stopped paying attention to whatever the girls were saying in their parallel conversation. From time to time, Cassian caught Feyre mentioning her sisters or her parents. He knew they hadn't taken her decision to drop out well; otherwise, she wouldn't be here with her life packed in boxes. He made an effort to pay even less attention to her. Feyre's family was a topic he would rather not hear about, for his own reasons.
"There is an implied pressure for the other teams not to pick Rhys if they go with you in the first round." Azriel was insistent on the fact that Cassian would be picked by Velaris' team first, then Rhys in the second round. Cassian wasn't so sure, and Rhys was on the fence. "Obviously, the mayor's son playing for another city wouldn't sit well with anyone."
"Do you see how offensive it is to imply the only reason the team wants me is my dad? I am the fucking captain in the college league!"
"Yet Cass has been MVP for the last three years. Out of four." He added, more worked up by the second.
"I mean, it is a factor, Rhys." Cassian wasn't planning on fooling himself to protect Rhysand's ego. His dad had intel on the team's plans, and knowing that was enough to figure he was part of the conversation... and conclude what that meant.
Neither of the three was budging. "He is your father in some way too." Rhys tried arguing.
Rhysand's parents had fostered Az and him for a couple of years and treated them like their own, that was true. But they were in their twenties now, and while Rhys was getting a townhouse as a gift in the middle of the semester, Cassian and Az paid for their shared dorm on campus themselves. The three of them would always see each other as brothers, Cassian had no doubt, but in reality, Rhysand's father had long ago stopped taking care of them as such. His mom, though, still had them go over for dinner at least once a week, and made sure they had presents under the tree each Christmas.
Just like the last one, the topic of the draft died unresolved, and the night went on. Board games were followed by charades, and the wine kept flowing, making it harder every round to perform.
Cassian did his best to play a horse, although his teammates were having a hard time understanding his gestures. He laughed and drank, focusing on the game as the back of his mind remained unsettled. As he played charades, it played with the idea that something was off tonight.
Perhaps it was the boxes in the living room, so similar to the ones where he and his mom used to put their few belongings when they moved from one tiny place to another. The flats she could afford were never bigger than this living room, and their things had certainly never filled them as much as Feyre and Rhys' did.
It could also be the topic of the draft. Of course, he wanted to stay in the city with his friends, but, as Az had pointed out, his chances were dependent on how much influence politics had in the decision.
The annoying rumble troubling him could, of course, be caused by the same anguishing fear that had a month ago settled in his mind and conquered it. It took on a new form now, but the dilemma was the same as it was the last time: What did he want, and what was he willing to pay for it? In the scenario where Velaris' team didn't pick him and another did, accepting would mean leaving this place behind—his friends. So, again, was his career on the list of things he was willing to sacrifice in order to keep life as he knew it unchanged? It was hard to tell right now, drunk as he was. Especially considering he had been regretting his first call from the moment he made it.
Cassian was repulsed by his own cowardice.
Despite his inner distress, he didn't let any of it show. He was present in the board game and alert enough to stop Amren, his assigned partner, from launching herself over the table and slapping Az when he caught her cheating. Az's life was saved, Cass was thanked, and the balcony door was opened so the smokers could take a break.
"I got this." He let Feyre know when she started picking up the game pieces to tidy up the table. "Why don't you go set up the karaoke?"
She did. Or tried to. Where had they packed it? "If you were me yesterday, would you say the karaoke belonged in the miscellaneous box, the living room miscellaneous box, or the home items miscellaneous box?" She asked him across the room, pointing at each one at a time. They were now alone. Feyre pouted. "This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend! I can't believe I exchanged a spa for an unpacking season."
They both laughed.
"Don't rush it, Fey. You have a thousand little rooms to fill, so the labels you wrote before coming here won't help you make sense of anything."
"There are so many rooms, right?" She smiled. "Not now, of course, but maybe after we've made this place ours, we can start tearing down a few walls and make it more of an open concept."
Nodding, Cassian closed the box that contained the game and put it on the shelf they had taken it from. "I like the little rooms, though. I like the privacy of small spaces better than large floor plans, which I wouldn't know how to furnish." He went to help Feyre figure out the boxes. Two sets of hands and eyes would, or should, find the karaoke faster. "I grew up sharing one-bedroom apartments with my mom. The living room would sometimes be the kitchen as well. Or that, plus the bedroom, not gonna lie."
Feyre nodded, understanding. She had lived like that for a few years as well, when her father's company declared bankruptcy. That was a long time ago, though, and the estate Cassian had wandered through last month was proof of it. Like businessmen do, her dad had found his way up again. Cassian had learned at a young age that connections were more valuable than money itself. If you knew the right people, doors would open for you, no matter what.
That was the problem, wasn't it? Some of the people he was competing against knew everybody, while his claim to success relied on his talent alone.
"How do you imagine your place?" Feyre asked. "Something small in the city?"
Cassian laughed. "The opposite. I want a big place. And far away from here. With a large garden for the dogs I'll have to run." Feyre confessed to liking the idea of animals as well. "I'll have my things all over the place. Not in my room, because the entire house will be mine." She smiled and imagined the place he was describing. "I'll need long hallways to frame all my football memorabilia. I've been collecting it since I was a kid, and it will be the first thing to find a place for. Then, we can fill the rest of the walls with her books, but my football stuff goes first."
Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian was too into the picture already. "Plus, I can build her the shelves, but the signed shirts have to go into these specific glass frames. They are custom-made, so I need to take care of them before anything else."
"Right, I'm sure she will understand." Feyre murmured.
Shit.
"I mean, whoever. I might even get the house before I get a girlfriend and won't worry about it for a long time, so whatever." He laughed, struggling not to stumble upon his words. "That's why my things have priority."
"Yeah, it makes total sense." Feyre pretended with him. "You go first."
"Nesta's spoiled ass won't be happy about that." Mor's voice took both Feyre and him by surprise, and the new homeowner almost dropped the bundle in her hands back into the box.
It could be because he had never been able to lie to Mor, but he didn't try to mask the feelings soaking his words this time. "That was unprompted."
"No, it wasn't. You were thinking about her." She countered, as if that explained the comment. "How do I know?" She read his mind again. "Your face changes when you do. You look more stupid than usual."
The silence was awkward, and none of them moved. Cassian didn't want to talk about Nesta right now. And if Mor didn't like her, which was clearly the case, then why did she even have to bring her up?
Feyre was the first to react, but that wasn't much help. "I'll go look for the karaoke in some boxes I have in the bedroom." She excused herself and left.
"What the fuck is your problem?" He snapped when they were alone.
"Do you know how hard it is for me to see you plan your life with someone who doesn't care if you live or die?"
Cassian crossed his arms over his chest and took a step forward. This was not the day to be condescending. "Do you know how fucking insufferable it is being told what you should and shouldn't do as if you didn't have a damn brain of your own?" Mor was taken aback by his sudden aggressiveness. "Keep her name out of your mouth and let me live my fucking life."
He didn't raise his voice, but he was cutting with every word. Mor just stood there, speechless. Cassian didn't know what had taken over him either, he only knew Mor had broken a candid moment between him and Feyre with nasty and unnecessary comments. The first fucking good moment he had had in the entire night.
"Go ruin someone else's life with your self-centered advice, Mor. You are done with mine."
Feeling offended brought her back to life. "I'm your friend, it's my job to protect you!"
His face was probably redder by the second. "From what? A 125-pound girl that needs glasses to read the ingredients on her cereal and spends her afternoons studying the names of pharmaceutical drugs?" The surprising choice of words for his description of Nesta stole a shocked laugh from Mor, as well as from Cassian, unfortunately. That seemed to lighten the mood. "See, now you've made me roast the girl I want!" He accused, a smile lingering in the corner of his lips. Mor was doing her best to contain hers, and he appreciated the effort. "I really want to be with her —read the labels for her and distract her mind when she is burned out. Do you really have reasons to dislike her so much you must stop me? Can't you just get a fucking hobby?"
Accepting that she didn't, in fact, have a specific reason, Mor nodded her head. Cassian saw a glimpse of regret for what she had been doing in her eyes, even if pride hid it again a moment later. All was said, at least as far as his need to defend himself and Nesta went.
"I am sorry, Cass. I am sorry I let some of that ugly overprotectiveness get between the two of you... and us. But you have to understand that I don't want things to change."
Her voice cracked in the last sentence, and Cassian couldn't stay mad because he understood. He understood Mor better than the rest, hence why he expected the same thing from her in return. She had always reciprocated, which was probably the reason it had taken Cassian so long to see she was actually sabotaging things for him. He would have never thought to be wary of her, of all people.
There had always been a silent recognition between the two. It was a bond that never turned romantic, but both had always been painfully aware they had, to some extent, sacrificed their own happiness for the group. Cassian never pursued a love life, knowing they would never be okay with someone taking his focus from them. He had at times wanted to, but the fear of losing what they had in the process and being left out had always stopped him.
Mor, on the other hand, had endured almost ten years of yearning from Azriel, only so she didn't risk the group having to pick between the two of them. Again, out of fear she would end up losing the only people whose presence in her life mattered. She always got that, and saw the same fears in him. Shouldn't she sympathize with his stance more than anyone else? Shouldn't she be the one having his back at this crossroad, where desire to have a life beyond this friendship finally rivaled with the guilt of not doing what was best for them? Now that Cassian, for the first time, was willing to explore which was greater?
In order to protect the group's integrity, Cassian had let the one person he had ever wanted to be with get away.
"I really am." She muttered. They shared a knowing look, and this time, Mor's pride didn't cloud the hurt and regret in her eyes.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Cassian ran his hands through his hair and said nothing. She reached for her purse, a bag way too big for daily use that somehow was always full to the brim. He saw her dive inside through the corner of his eye but didn't really pay attention until she put a white card in his face. "Here. This is for you. Feyre and I were going to use it, but plans changed." He rolled his eyes and said she needn't make him a gift to compensate, he knew she was sorry, but Mor insisted. "Just take it, will you? And go." He agreed, uncomfortable, just so this would end.
His friend seemed to be waiting for him to do something else, although Cassian wasn't sure what. He looked at the card, as she may want him to be more excited about it. That's when he saw it —the name for the reservation. "Archeron." He read. "How am I supposed to get in, Mor? This is in someone else's name."
The sassy, confident smile was back on his friend's lips. She winked at him and palmed his shoulder. "Let this be my olive branch to you two, okay?" Cassian was starting to join the dots. "And pack a suit!"
This townhouse had been in Rhys' family for generations, its living room a witness to almost all their hangovers, but now that the happy couple had officially moved in, the space was unrecognizable. Feyre's paintings hang on every wall, and instead of the mismatched cups they had collected over the years, a new set was now waiting to be used. The boxes with the old stuff were stored away, so Feyre and Rhys could start filling the rooms with their own belongings.
Cassian's heart warmed when he saw the place. Of course, a part of him missed the sense of familiarity when he entered a room, but at least he got to be part of the new memories they would make here.
The joy of the night was that, and collecting the jackpot. "How in hell did you miss this happening?" Cassian poked fun at Amren, who hadn't guessed correctly in the poll made almost 10 years ago about who would move in with their partner first.
"I thought you and Az would move in together and be the type of roommates who have the entire block wondering if they are really good friends or really good friends." Amren wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Cassian roared laughing again. She waved her piece of paper in the air accusingly, as if it was his fault she lost.
Fifty bucks wasn't a fortune, but it was definitely more than the others got. Mor had trusted her own ability to find a partner quicker than the rest. Amren had put all her eggs in the basket of a bromance that never happened. Az himself had been 15 years old and in love, and therefore it was Mor's name on his piece of paper. And Rhys, in an unexpected turn of events, had tried to make a joke out of putting Amren's name on it next to a poorly drawn knife, as if implying she would be the first one to move in with her partner, but violence would be involved.
Not only didn't he win, but, to his disappointment, he didn't even get a laugh out of the crowd.
So Cassian was now fifty dollars richer than he was that morning.
"I'm a little hurt no one put me." He confessed, the grin still hanging on his lips.
Rhys rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, you know you'll be last. I think Amren's hunch was right: You'll live with friends until all of us move out." The collective agreement when all the guests laughed, had Cassian frowning. "What?" Rhys saw the need to explain himself when he saw Cassian wasn't joining in the laughter. "You are the kind of guy who would rather spend time with friends than anything else. And I'm not complaining!" Again, everyone agreed.
Mor went a little further with the explanation that, apparently, only Cassian needed. "Cass, we know we are lucky to have you. I would hate having to share the best friend ever with anyone but the people in this room. And your career will also benefit from it."
Indeed, his prospects to go pro within the next year did benefit from him not having to divide his time three ways: football, friends and love life. There was still something that bothered him, though. But Cassian knew he should be grateful for how blindly his friends trusted that he would always be there for them. That was his role, after all. Good, reliable, always willing Cassian.
It's my fault, I'm the one who never sought a love life in the first place. Cassian thought, trying to rub it off.
But the itch didn't go away—not fully. Deep down, Cassian knew it didn't make sense, as Rhy's dream career was the exact same one he was pursuing. And love had never been something he was expected to give up in order to achieve it. Just the opposite: they were here celebrating it.
"I mean," Amren was adding now, as the conversation had kept going without him, "we don't even have enough chairs to grant you a plus one, so even if we wanted that for you," She shrugged, "we can't afford it."
Ouch.
"Yeah, I get it." He laughed without feeling it, doing his best to mask it. The topic clearly wouldn't die until he agreed. "As me being in a relationship would be inconvenient for all of us, I promise you I never will." He placed a hand over his heart as he made his vow.
As simple as that, everyone moved on.
The paint color for the walls was perfect. Were they thinking of adding a lamp in that dark corner? Mor made a point to mention how trendy wall molding was at the moment, and Az made a point to mention how that kind of feature only collected dust. The extra cleaning was a dealbreaker for Feyre; she had noticed in the last few days how much dust the paintings collected and wasn't planning on spending even more time cleaning the walls.
Football and the draft being around the corner was the next topic, one Cassian was thrilled to get into. He expected to be picked in the first round, and so did Rhys.
"You've got it, man." There was not a pinch of doubt in his friend's voice. "My dad heard our city's team wants you, so it's a done deal. Next season, you'll be playing for Velaris."
"It would make more sense to pick you in the first round: quarterback, team captain and the mayor's son." Cassian argued.
Az didn't fully agree. "I don't know, Cass. Your stats are better. If they don't pick you in the first round, you might not be there for the second one."
The three of them got deep into the discussion and stopped paying attention to whatever the girls were saying in their parallel conversation. From time to time, Cassian caught Feyre mentioning her sisters or her parents. He knew they hadn't taken her decision to drop out well; otherwise, she wouldn't be here with her life packed in boxes. He made an effort to pay even less attention to her. Feyre's family was a topic he would rather not hear about, for his own reasons.
"There is an implied pressure for the other teams not to pick Rhys if they go with you in the first round." Azriel was insistent on the fact that Cassian would be picked by Velaris' team first, then Rhys in the second round. Cassian wasn't so sure, and Rhys was on the fence. "Obviously, the mayor's son playing for another city wouldn't sit well with anyone."
"Do you see how offensive it is to imply the only reason the team wants me is my dad? I am the fucking captain in the college league!"
"Yet Cass has been MVP for the last three years. Out of four." He added, more worked up by the second.
"I mean, it is a factor, Rhys." Cassian wasn't planning on fooling himself to protect Rhysand's ego. His dad had intel on the team's plans, and knowing that was enough to figure he was part of the conversation... and conclude what that meant.
Neither of the three was budging. "He is your father in some way too." Rhys tried arguing.
Rhysand's parents had fostered Az and him for a couple of years and treated them like their own, that was true. But they were in their twenties now, and while Rhys was getting a townhouse as a gift in the middle of the semester, Cassian and Az paid for their shared dorm on campus themselves. The three of them would always see each other as brothers, Cassian had no doubt, but in reality, Rhysand's father had long ago stopped taking care of them as such. His mom, though, still had them go over for dinner at least once a week, and made sure they had presents under the tree each Christmas.
Just like the last one, the topic of the draft died unresolved, and the night went on. Board games were followed by charades, and the wine kept flowing, making it harder every round to perform.
Cassian did his best to play a horse, although his teammates were having a hard time understanding his gestures. He laughed and drank, focusing on the game as the back of his mind remained unsettled. As he played charades, it played with the idea that something was off tonight.
Perhaps it was the boxes in the living room, so similar to the ones where he and his mom used to put their few belongings when they moved from one tiny place to another. The flats she could afford were never bigger than this living room, and their things had certainly never filled them as much as Feyre and Rhys' did.
It could also be the topic of the draft. Of course, he wanted to stay in the city with his friends, but, as Az had pointed out, his chances were dependent on how much influence politics had in the decision.
The annoying rumble troubling him could, of course, be caused by the same anguishing fear that had a month ago settled in his mind and conquered it. It took on a new form now, but the dilemma was the same as it was the last time: What did he want, and what was he willing to pay for it? In the scenario where Velaris' team didn't pick him and another did, accepting would mean leaving this place behind—his friends. So, again, was his career on the list of things he was willing to sacrifice in order to keep life as he knew it unchanged? It was hard to tell right now, drunk as he was. Especially considering he had been regretting his first call from the moment he made it.
Cassian was repulsed by his own cowardice.
Despite his inner distress, he didn't let any of it show. He was present in the board game and alert enough to stop Amren, his assigned partner, from launching herself over the table and slapping Az when he caught her cheating. Az's life was saved, Cass was thanked, and the balcony door was opened so the smokers could take a break.
"I got this." He let Feyre know when she started picking up the game pieces to tidy up the table. "Why don't you go set up the karaoke?"
She did. Or tried to. Where had they packed it? "If you were me yesterday, would you say the karaoke belonged in the miscellaneous box, the living room miscellaneous box, or the home items miscellaneous box?" She asked him across the room, pointing at each one at a time. They were now alone. Feyre pouted. "This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend! I can't believe I exchanged a spa for an unpacking season."
They both laughed.
"Don't rush it, Fey. You have a thousand little rooms to fill, so the labels you wrote before coming here won't help you make sense of anything."
"There are so many rooms, right?" She smiled. "Not now, of course, but maybe after we've made this place ours, we can start tearing down a few walls and make it more of an open concept."
Nodding, Cassian closed the box that contained the game and put it on the shelf they had taken it from. "I like the little rooms, though. I like the privacy of small spaces better than large floor plans, which I wouldn't know how to furnish." He went to help Feyre figure out the boxes. Two sets of hands and eyes would, or should, find the karaoke faster. "I grew up sharing one-bedroom apartments with my mom. The living room would sometimes be the kitchen as well. Or that, plus the bedroom, not gonna lie."
Feyre nodded, understanding. She had lived like that for a few years as well, when her father's company declared bankruptcy. That was a long time ago, though, and the estate Cassian had wandered through last month was proof of it. Like businessmen do, her dad had found his way up again. Cassian had learned at a young age that connections were more valuable than money itself. If you knew the right people, doors would open for you, no matter what.
That was the problem, wasn't it? Some of the people he was competing against knew everybody, while his claim to success relied on his talent alone.
"How do you imagine your place?" Feyre asked. "Something small in the city?"
Cassian laughed. "The opposite. I want a big place. And far away from here. With a large garden for the dogs I'll have to run." Feyre confessed to liking the idea of animals as well. "I'll have my things all over the place. Not in my room, because the entire house will be mine." She smiled and imagined the place he was describing. "I'll need long hallways to frame all my football memorabilia. I've been collecting it since I was a kid, and it will be the first thing to find a place for. Then, we can fill the rest of the walls with her books, but my football stuff goes first."
Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian was too into the picture already. "Plus, I can build her the shelves, but the signed shirts have to go into these specific glass frames. They are custom-made, so I need to take care of them before anything else."
"Right, I'm sure she will understand." Feyre murmured.
Shit.
"I mean, whoever. I might even get the house before I get a girlfriend and won't worry about it for a long time, so whatever." He laughed, struggling not to stumble upon his words. "That's why my things have priority."
"Yeah, it makes total sense." Feyre pretended with him. "You go first."
"Nesta's spoiled ass won't be happy about that." Mor's voice took both Feyre and him by surprise, and the new homeowner almost dropped the bundle in her hands back into the box.
It could be because he had never been able to lie to Mor, but he didn't try to mask the feelings soaking his words this time. "That was unprompted."
"No, it wasn't. You were thinking about her." She countered, as if that explained the comment. "How do I know?" She read his mind again. "Your face changes when you do. You look more stupid than usual."
The silence was awkward, and none of them moved. Cassian didn't want to talk about Nesta right now. And if Mor didn't like her, which was clearly the case, then why did she even have to bring her up?
Feyre was the first to react, but that wasn't much help. "I'll go look for the karaoke in some boxes I have in the bedroom." She excused herself and left.
"What the fuck is your problem?" He snapped when they were alone.
"Do you know how hard it is for me to see you plan your life with someone who doesn't care if you live or die?"
Cassian crossed his arms over his chest and took a step forward. This was not the day to be condescending. "Do you know how fucking insufferable it is being told what you should and shouldn't do as if you didn't have a damn brain of your own?" Mor was taken aback by his sudden aggressiveness. "Keep her name out of your mouth and let me live my fucking life."
He didn't raise his voice, but he was cutting with every word. Mor just stood there, speechless. Cassian didn't know what had taken over him either, he only knew Mor had broken a candid moment between him and Feyre with nasty and unnecessary comments. The first fucking good moment he had had in the entire night.
"Go ruin someone else's life with your self-centered advice, Mor. You are done with mine."
Feeling offended brought her back to life. "I'm your friend, it's my job to protect you!"
His face was probably redder by the second. "From what? A 125-pound girl that needs glasses to read the ingredients on her cereal and spends her afternoons studying the names of pharmaceutical drugs?" The surprising choice of words for his description of Nesta stole a shocked laugh from Mor, as well as from Cassian, unfortunately. That seemed to lighten the mood. "See, now you've made me roast the girl I want!" He accused, a smile lingering in the corner of his lips. Mor was doing her best to contain hers, and he appreciated the effort. "I really want to be with her —read the labels for her and distract her mind when she is burned out. Do you really have reasons to dislike her so much you must stop me? Can't you just get a fucking hobby?"
Accepting that she didn't, in fact, have a specific reason, Mor nodded her head. Cassian saw a glimpse of regret for what she had been doing in her eyes, even if pride hid it again a moment later. All was said, at least as far as his need to defend himself and Nesta went.
"I am sorry, Cass. I am sorry I let some of that ugly overprotectiveness get between the two of you... and us. But you have to understand that I don't want things to change."
Her voice cracked in the last sentence, and Cassian couldn't stay mad because he understood. He understood Mor better than the rest, hence why he expected the same thing from her in return. She had always reciprocated, which was probably the reason it had taken Cassian so long to see she was actually sabotaging things for him. He would have never thought to be wary of her, of all people.
There had always been a silent recognition between the two. It was a bond that never turned romantic, but both had always been painfully aware they had, to some extent, sacrificed their own happiness for the group. Cassian never pursued a love life, knowing they would never be okay with someone taking his focus from them. He had at times wanted to, but the fear of losing what they had in the process and being left out had always stopped him.
Mor, on the other hand, had endured almost ten years of yearning from Azriel, only so she didn't risk the group having to pick between the two of them. Again, out of fear she would end up losing the only people whose presence in her life mattered. She always got that, and saw the same fears in him. Shouldn't she sympathize with his stance more than anyone else? Shouldn't she be the one having his back at this crossroad, where desire to have a life beyond this friendship finally rivaled with the guilt of not doing what was best for them? Now that Cassian, for the first time, was willing to explore which was greater?
In order to protect the group's integrity, Cassian had let the one person he had ever wanted to be with get away.
"I really am." She muttered. They shared a knowing look, and this time, Mor's pride didn't cloud the hurt and regret in her eyes.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Cassian ran his hands through his hair and said nothing. She reached for her purse, a bag way too big for daily use that somehow was always full to the brim. He saw her dive inside through the corner of his eye but didn't really pay attention until she put a white card in his face. "Here. This is for you. Feyre and I were going to use it, but plans changed." He rolled his eyes and said she needn't make him a gift to compensate, he knew she was sorry, but Mor insisted. "Just take it, will you? And go." He agreed, uncomfortable, just so this would end.
His friend seemed to be waiting for him to do something else, although Cassian wasn't sure what. He looked at the card, as she may want him to be more excited about it. That's when he saw it —the name for the reservation. "Archeron." He read. "How am I supposed to get in, Mor? This is in someone else's name."
The sassy, confident smile was back on his friend's lips. She winked at him and palmed his shoulder. "Let this be my olive branch to you two, okay?" Cassian was starting to join the dots. "And pack a suit!"
Four words confirmed what Nesta had already anticipated: She wasn't worth the effort. His friends disliked her, and Cassian wasn't interested enough in her to be the odd one out.
He had been so insistent for months, then moved on as soon as she called out his friends.
"Why the fuck does he want a girlfriend if he already has in his life all the people he is willing to care about?" She later complained on the phone to her friends. They didn't have an answer for her, only more stupid questions, like, "Didn't you want to end things first back in october?", or "Does that mean you wanted him to keep trying?"
He had left the room after Nesta made clear her disinterest in what he had to offer. He had left without complaining, just like he promised he would, and it was precisely that what kept Nesta awake the whole night, looking at the ceiling as if the answers she now needed were hidden in the plaster.
"Is it me?" She wondered. "Maybe it's me who doesn't have anything to offer and that's why I'm not good enough for him to take the risk?"
Nesta tried fixing the hole in her heart by telling herself she was better off without a guy like him in her life, but soon discovered that it was no use because Cassian not wanting her wasn't the issue —It was way bigger than that, bigger than a hot guy breaking up with her. Gosh, they weren't even together.
Cassian's presence in the landscape of her trauma was almost anecdotal, yet the way his actions had opened Pandora's Box made the incident remain in the back of her mind like a splinter on her finger.
Hurting with a realization that wouldn't go away even in her sleep, Nesta spent the next month sitting at the library, surrounded by a wall of notes and books that luckily required all her time. Finals were the only thing on her mind from the second she woke up to the delightful moment she got into bed, always later than she should. Her sisters were in the same situation, so there was always coffee ready in the morning. Elain studied at home and out loud, often taking walks around the house as she went over her notes for the walls to hear. Feyre had been staying at her boyfriend's lately and only came back when she needed fresh clothes. Clothes that, Nesta realized, once were gone, never came back to her wardrobe.
Out of the three, Nesta was the only one who would be graduating this semester, though. She could feel the pressure. Up until last month, she had been thriving from it. Knowing her mother was counting on her to become a surgeon had always made her proud, the blind trust in her abilities making her grow confident. Knowing her father had already put enough money aside to open a clinic in the city for her had always acted as fuel for that overachieving fire burning inside her.
School was what Nesta Archeron had always been the best at, and the only thing on her mind throughout the years as others dedicated their free time to attend open mic nights at a bar and go on hikes. Or whatever people her age did.
Never before had the pressure to be the best been a burden. Now, not only could she feel it wearing her down, but it was making her insecure.
That morning Nesta looked in the mirror after her hair was braided and asked herself the dreadful question that had started her spiraling: If these exams proved her wits weren't deserving of praise, would there still be anything in her to love? What else did she have?
As she put the pink pencil case in her bag, Nesta's tired brain poked fun at her. It caged the question inside and refused to let go of it. Mechanically, Nesta followed her morning routine, muscle memory doing most of the work for her, as her mind wasn't willing to cooperate. No, this morning it had developed a will of its own and refused to do anything but torment her, force her to entertain the thought that, once she failed —and she would— and everyone realized she wasn't the genius they had painted her to be, then her friends wouldn't be interested in spending time with her anymore. Her thoughts on the books they read would lack their usual edge, and she would be no fun to hang out with. Her parents wouldn't explicitly mention how disappointed they were, but they would for sure start disregarding her, like they did with Feyre and Elain already.
And there would be no one left to love her because she wouldn't be worth it. Not loving, not defending, not even liking.
The shrill sound of a new message was Nesta's way out of her own head. She had been looking into her coffee like a crazy person. She was lucky the house was empty already, safe for Elain on the second floor reading her neat notes.
Babe, we're outside.
Nesta left the coffee on the counter, grabbed her bag and went out in a rush. Since when did she have trouble making it on time to places?
Emerie waved at her from the passenger's seat, and Gwyn blew her a kiss from behind the wheel when Nesta got in the car. "Did you sleep through your alarm?" She asked, the engine coming to life.
"Yes, sorry. I didn't sleep that well." That was the closest thing to an explanation they would ever get from Nesta, so without further ado, the three made their way to the library in Gwyn's beat-up car with pop music at full volume as their soundtrack.
After one hour of silence between books, Nesta asked, to no one in particular, "Why are you my friends?"
Through the pile of paper, Gwyn and Em exchanged a wary look. "Because you are hot, and I was hoping it would be contagious." Emery tried to joke. But that was the wrong thing to say, and before she could apologize, Nesta was visibly on the verge of tears. What was wrong with her? She never cried. The lack of sleep was ruining her psyche as much as the overthinking.
Both girls got up and circled the table to get to her, Gwyn's arm immediately wrapped around her shoulders, Nesta's breath now erratic as she did her best to contain a sob. "Babe, what's going on?" She dried the first tear streaming down Nesta's face. "You are so beautiful, so funny, so smart, so ..."
"I am not smart, I am stupid."
This time, it was a puzzled look what they shared. Emery sat on the table and cupped Nesta's face with both hands. "You are smart." She argued. "And I don't just mean it in a cheering-you-up type of way. I mean literally. As in the actual school ranking. You are number one and have been so for the last two years." She gave her friend a tentative smile. "You are smart as shit, Nesta."
The physical contact was overstimulating her. It was suffocating. Nesta gave a few sudden shifts in her chair so that they gave her some space, needing air more than anything. She tried calming her breath, unsuccessfully. Nesta was starting to have a panic attack in the middle of the library. "I can't keep being smart." She cried. "I hate it. I can't do it. I can't do anything."
Gwyn and Emery gave her room to talk and made sure there were no people nearby that could eavesdrop their best friend's meltdown. The coast was clear. Nesta saw and appreciated it, although no one mentioned it. "I can't keep pretending I have anything to offer. I can't do it." She broke down.
"Do you mean the finals?" Emery asked, tentatively.
"I mean everything! I don't want to do anything anymore. If I keep doing well, then people will expect me to do more next time. And to do it better and for longer. I —there is just this pressure..." The sob finally came at the same time she tried to breathe, and it caught in her throat. "I feel like the longer it takes me to finally fail, the worse the fall will be. Does that make sense?"
She saw her friends nod, and then silence reigned again between the bookshelves. The three had often talked about the gifted kid curse years ago, when they met in their first semester of college and jokingly agreed that, statistically, not everyone carrying around the label could actually be so. It had been all in good fun, a way to lighten the demanding projections the three had made about their future. Only now it was about to be proven true, as out of the three, Nesta could now see herself falling behind the rhythm.
Gwyn knew not to touch her. She pulled her chair closer so Nesta could whisper and still be heard. Emerie reached around the table to her own backpack and picked up a water bottle she then offered to her best friend, who was silently allowing the tears to run down her face. Nesta took it with shaking hands but didn't drink from it.
"I want to put an end to it." At their worried looks, Nesta explained that she didn't crave her own downfall, which put the other two at ease. "But lately," she told them, "I've been wondering if I really want to keep climbing up. The top of the mountain is in sight, but once there, the only direction forward will be down." Emery was the first to protest her argument and tried quoting a Miley Cyrus song as proof of her statement. Unfortunately, Nesta didn't consider herself a journey-enjoyer. She had always been goal-driven and nothing else. "I want to stop now, when my options still offer a chance of improvement in the future. There is up, there is down, there is..."
A hand taking the water bottle from her as a safety precaution cut her speech short. Gwyn's voice was soft as velvet. "I get it, babe. I know it must be hard to have people counting on you to always do good and giving you no margin of error." Nesta focused on soothing herself as her friend spoke. "It is unfair of people to deprive you of a chance to fail, but if we are addressing this seriously, I have to be honest. And the truth is, Nesta, that you are the one demanding that excellence from yourself." Nesta gave her a frown that would have silenced anyone else. But not Gwyn, of course. "You want to be your own person, right? You want people to stop expecting things from you that only add pressure, because they have no right to determine your path or your pace. I get that."
She made a pause to look for the right words, not wanting to start a fight but deciding for the three of them, this was the moment of truth. Now or never, she had to say it, and Nesta let her know she was ready for the reality check.
"But you can't ruin things for yourself on purpose just to prevent a hypothetical failure in the future. That is absurd. Because it may never come, and then you will be the only one to blame for never reaching your full potential." She rolled her eyes, then added, "And self-sabotaging so people become disappointed in you and leave instead of facing them, that is a cop out, and you know it."
Before Nesta could defend her approach, it was Emerie's time to get real with her. "Honestly, Nesta," Em waited for her to look in her direction to make sure she understood what she was about to say. "I am amazed you grew tired of people wanting you to do great before you had enough of yourself obstructing your own life."
That, Nesta didn't expect. "What do you mean?"
"It is unfair of your parents and teachers to demand so much of you, and I hate to see you break like this. But Gwyn is right, making yourself trip first is only hurting you."
Nesta saw herself in that bathroom trying to part ways with someone she liked just in case he never got to be what she wanted. Before she grew too attached and he broke her heart. Before the height made it impossible to survive the fall.
They were right, she had wanted to end things first. Cassian hadn't given up on her whe she made up her mind to leave the boat, scared of the hypothetical future. Nesta knew that night in October that Cassian didn't understand why she refused to make things public. When he tried reaching her again through Feyre and inviting her to his game, like Nesta had implied she wanted, she panicked and asked Em's closeted neighbor to go with her.
It didn't dissuade him, because why would it, and hours later, she was under him in her own bed.
Tired of going in circles and never fully escaping his charm, Nesta chose to yield her fears as a weapon, painting them as a reality he couldn't possibly change. She had tried her best to put him between a rock and a hard place —to corner Cassian by preying on his insecurities, so he would panic too and leave.
"Why don't you take a few days to yourself, love? To disconnect. Then come back and do your best. Whether it is enough or not, you won't know until it is done." Nesta tried to argue that she wouldn't know where to go, but her friend was quick to stop her. "Take all the time you need to find it, but please, don't quit on yourself just because people are idiots. Be brave and try, even if it is scary."
"Sometimes the only way out is through." The redhead reasoned. "If you can't get into the right mind space for these exams, it's fine. There will be new opportunities. Just don't ruin your chances on purpose. That feeling of control you crave can end up holding you back. I promise taking risks won't kill you."
It would have been great to have a counter to that remark, but the reality of her life was that she hadn't had a good night's sleep in the last month and had just started crying in a public library out of pure stress. She needed time off to reflect on everything —the past few weeks and her life before that. Everyone thought she was smart, but Nesta knew she had nothing on Gwyn and Em, who always knew what to do and say. Nesta accepted the hug they offered, a spark of hope in her chest, promising that if these two beautiful souls saw in her something worth loving, then it must exist. It must be there, inside her, hiding in a secret place she ought to find.
--
When Nesta arrived home, it was time for dinner, and she had it alone. The house was empty, and it stayed like that until hours later, when a car briefly stopped in their driveway and one of her sisters got inside. Nesta was in the backyard, laying on the grass like a dead body, confident no one would come out looking for her there. People in this family always had things to do on their own, so realizing Nesta was home by her keys in the hall would never push her parents or sisters to call for her in hopes of spending time together. That was not how the Archerons worked.
Apparently, today was about proving her wrong.
By the way her feet touched the grass, Nesta knew it was Feyre approaching. It was that and nothing else that gave away her presence in the backyard, as her sister didn't speak a word, she simply lay down next to Nesta in silence.
"What do you want?" Nesta asked abruptly.
Both sisters had their eyes fixed on the pitch-black sky. They hadn't shared a moment alone like this probably since they were kids, and it felt odd. Nesta worried they were about to role-play a sisterly bond they had long left behind.
"I need advice." Her sister said instead. "I think I am dropping out of college."
Nesta didn't expect that. "Why? I thought you wanted to be an artist."
"I don't need a degree for that. I already have galleries buying my paintings and clients commissioning them."
Still, to Nesta, not finishing her art degree was such a stupid idea. "Mom and dad will hate that. They will cut you off." Feyre laughed, and it broke the quiet of the backyard. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just funny that's the thing you are worried about." She answered. "Not that I need the formal education or that a degree could be a good thing to have in case I ever need other career paths." Nesta frowned as Feyre went on with her reasoning. "I've already discussed it with Rhys. He will probably be drafted for the NFL at the end of the month... And let's be honest, even if he wasn't, money will never be an issue with him. I can move my art studio to wherever he goes, see new places, new faces, and paint them." When she turned her face towards Nesta, she was smiling, her eyes shining even in the dark. "What do you think?"
Nesta's frown hadn't moved an inch. "Do you really want to know?" Feyre nodded. "I think it is risky. You never know what can happen. To your career, with Rhysand..."
"That's the most exciting part!" Feyre argued. "And I am so ready to see what life has in store for me. For better or worse."
If confidence had ever been an issue for her little sister, Nesta never found out. She had always been ready for adventure, looking for trouble if only that meant going against the current. Nesta didn't understand how she could be so careless. So carefree. But right now, Nesta was in no position to judge, as she usually would. She didn't have it in herself to give Feyre the advice she was asking for, as the only thing she could do at the moment, as they lay in the grass, was envy her determination.
"Then you already know what to do." Nesta concluded.
Feyre sighed. "I know you don't approve it, but..."
"I do." Nesta corrected. "I think it will be good for you. Liberating."
"That is all I want."
With a smile, Feyre looked up again, happy.
A light was lit inside the house, throwing shades over them. Someone had arrived, probably their parents. Neither said anything for a while, enough time for the new people in the house to go upstairs and change clothes, then go back down into the kitchen. Feyre rubbed her eyes, making time. She then stood up and informed Nesta of her plans: she would tell their parents now. If things went right, by the end of the month she would be leaving. If they didn't take it well, though, she would be gone tonight. "I already have a bag packed, and most of my things are already at Rhys'."
Nesta felt the right thing to do after such a confession would be to hug her little sister goodbye, but she couldn't stomach the physical contact. Especially in such an emotional moment. She hoped Feyre could read her eyes in the dim light, but it may have been too long since Feyre and her last confided in one another, and the ability could be lost. In any case, Feyre got up.
"Nesta." Her sister called one last time, halfway to the door. "You can leave too, you know? Their feelings are not more important than yours."
Her words hit Nesta right through the heart, and before she knew it, she had gotten on her feet as well, and her arms were around Feyre, nesting her tightly. "I will miss you." Her shoulder became wet where Feyre's face touched it, and so she squeezed herder to make sure her sister left there all the tears and only the joy from before was left in her body. "I hope you are happy, wherever you go."
"I will be." Feyre promised. "And I hope you find your place as well, wherever it is."
They parted ways, and Nesta waited outside for what felt like forever, listening to the screaming inside the house as if it wasn't her family coming apart. Once again, a light upstairs was turned on, then off. Footsteps coming down, a door being closed violently, and then a car engine drafting away were the last evidence that this place had ever been Feyre Archeron's home.
When Nesta went back to her room, the first thing she did was take a hot shower. Hot enough that her skin turned pink, and at some point the heat stopped being comforting. She washed her hair and her face, then took good care of her body before jumping in her pajamas. She went to get into bed, and that's when she finally spotted the white card over her pillow, a note stuck to it. It was from Feyre.
I was supposed to have a girls' trip with Mor, but it's now cancelled. It's a spa weekend, you should go and treat yourself ;)
Nesta gasped when she turned the card around and saw the spa's logo. It was a luxury experience, all inclusive, and paid for. In the card, by this weekend's date, was the time for a dinner reservation under the name Archeron.
She didn't have to look for excuses to justify her decision to go. Nesta wanted to. She had had enough; she had been through too much for too little in return. This weekend, she would do one thing for herself and actually try to enjoy her time.
The last thought in her mind as she fell asleep was a jittery rush —the thrill of finally having decided to love herself.
A/N: Don't mind me, I'm just posting a second part to this a year after because I think I know what I want to do with this fic. It's been a year, so if you want to be removed or added to the tagging list, let me know, I just copied the one I had.
He had played well enough to celebrate the victory and mean it. It had been a great game. Tense, to say the least, but in a good way. The type of tense that pushed Cassian to do better. He was not the captain of the football team, Rhy was, but Cassian had been named MVP of the college league the last two seasons, and he planned on keeping the title this year as well now that graduation time was approaching and the draft peaked on the horizon. Preassure to give his all on the field was always welcomed. And if a certain pretty brunette showed up to watch, even if she was accompanied by some other dude, then his teammates could count on Cassian pushing himself to the limit.
Cassian slurred each syllable when he spoke, even if he wasn't drunk yet. "It's too hot in here, I need some air." Az only nodded. Not that the music being blasted through the speakers would have allowed him to be heard anyway.
The crowd dancing in Feyre's basement, drinking and making out in the darkest corners of the room, forced him to use his elbows to push people in reaching for the stairs. Circumventing these college students proved as challenging as dodging some of his rivals hours earlier. Cassian tightly secured his red cup as he made his way up. Although Feyre's house was not their most frequent meetup place, Cassian had been in there enough times to know where each room was. To know the basement had a door to the garden behind the house, but if he instead used the stairs, he would find himself in the entry hall at the top.
So he went up, and just as he emerged in the predicted space, the front door was being opened by one of his best friends. Mor gave a squeak and jumped to hug him. "Congrats on the win, big boy!" Cassian hugged her back, and she had to go on her tiptoes so her arms could reach around his neck. He thanked her with a shit-eating grin. Both knew this had been one of his best games this season.
"Where were you? I was starting to think I would have to drain the keg all by myself." He joked, momentarily postponing his planned trip for this quick chat.
"The cheer team had a pre-party I couldn't miss." Mor explained. Cassian didn't believed her, though, as most of the cheer team had arrived before him at the party.
"Excuse me." The soft voice behind them was followed by an even softer touch as Gwyneth Berdara slightly pushed his arm.
Only then did Cassian realize Mor and he were blocking the front door. He quickly let go of his friend's waist and took a step back, leaving enough room between the blond cheerleader and himself for Gwyneth to walk out. She did so without a word or a second look at them. The sudden panic taking over Cassian was enough to block the shame he should have felt instead. He saw the redhead reach for her phone as soon as she stepped outside, right before the door closed behind her. His widen his eyes went back to his friend, who seemed oblivious to the gravity of what had just happened. Only then did he notice who the varsity jacket Mor was wearing belonged to. A siren went off inside his head. Shit. Cassian hadn't noticed she was wearing his name and number. He had assumed it belonged to whatever player she had been screwing before coming to the party.
Surely Gwyn had noticed as well.
Shit.
"It that my jacket?" Obviously, it was.
"Oh, yeah, sorry, I was cold and kept it. Do you want it back?" She offered it, but didn't take it off. She pouted, knowing he would let her keep it. It would be useless to ask for it now, anyway.
"I thought you gave it to Nesta. Like I asked you to."
How tight had he and Mor been hugging when Gwyn appeared out of thin air? He wasn't sure. He tried to remember if his name on the back of the jacket had been visible to the girl, but soon discovered that he couldn't. A message had probably been sent from Gwyn's phone to Nesta's describing what she thought she had seen. She would be wrong in her assumption, but it kind of made his planned trip to the second floor redundant now, nevertheless.
"She didn't want it, Cass. I promise I offered it to her, and she said she already had a jacket. Now, I don't know if she meant hers or the jacket that guy besides her was wearing."
Cassian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit Mor, you should have told me. I thought she had taken it."
"Hey, don't be upset with me. It's not my fault." She protested, her pouting lips now more exaggerated. "To be honest, I think this was for the best. Please, Cass, I am begging you to put two and two together and realize that she didn't want your name on her back because she simply doesn't want you. Or else, she wouldn't have gone to the game with a date."
His head snapped at that. "So it was a date? How would you know?" Cassian had always trusted Mor's intuition in this area. She understood girls' behavior way better than he did.
Taking the red cup from his hand and sipping from it, Mor rolled her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to hurt your feelings, especially not tonight, but Nesta Archeron doesn't give a fuck about football, so if her pretty ass was there, it had to be that guy's idea. And she must like him a lot to agree to the plan. Did she tell you she would be there?" He said no with his head. "And why is that? Because she..." Mor pushed a finger against his chest. "Doesn't. Care. About. You."
Cassian just stood there, unconvinced. He wished Mor had insisted more.
"But I still went up there to their seats and offered, like you asked me to, because I do care about you." She kept going. "As does Rhys. Do you think he would like to find out you are trying to get into Nesta's pants?" She arched an eyebrow. "You know he is not precisely fond of her."
The silence, Cassian hoped, let Mor know he was not in the mood to get deeper into that conversation right now. "Yeah, you are right." He considered taking his cup back, but decided not to. Mor could keep his cup and take it downstairs with her advice and opinions. He had to go up, he was now determined. "Az was asking for you down there." The cheerleader's face lightened when he changed the subject, suddenly reminded that there was, in fact, a party waiting for her in the basement.
"Shall we go?" She offered.
"I was actually looking for a bathroom." Cassian excused himself. "I don't trust the one downstairs." He joked. She didn't push it, she simply gave him another quick hug and headed towards the music.
He gave himself a second to clear his head. To mentally curse himself, Mor and this night that had seemed so full of potential until five minutes ago. The stairs to the second floor of the Archeron's house were right there. I should go to her room, Cassian told himself. To explain myself. And so, with the confidence only a guy like him could have, he resumed his original route towards Nesta Archeron's bedroom.
Unknown territory.
It would be easy for him to pitch himself tonight. Pitching both of them, actually, presents Nesta with the idea of what they could become. In a perfect scenario, Nesta would listen. In the case that Gwyneth had misinformed her of what she thought she had seen in the hall, it might require a little more convincing. But Cassian made his way up, truly believing this would be the night he told Nesta what he wanted.
Loud and clear.
The hallway he ended up in was silent, as if there was no party happening in the basement at that very moment. It was pitch dark, and wanting to be as sneaky as possible, instead of turning on the lights, Cassian used his phone's flashlight to find Nesta's bedroom door. A decorative piece of wood in the shape of a perfect "N" hang from the door. Knowing all the residents of the house except Feyre —downstairs— and Nesta herself —at the other side of the wooden panel— were away, he knocked, not allowing his confidence to slip away.
Yes, Nesta had refused to take his jacket when Mor offered it in his name, but not once had she said no to fucking him. If she knew he was on the other side of the door, she would open it for him. When she didn't answer, Cassian knocked again. "Nes, it's me." He had to wait again, but this time he heard the muffled footsteps getting closer. Then, the door opened, and Cassian's grin returned to his face. "Hey." He leaned on the door, knowing from experience that women found the way his muscles flexed to be sexy.
Nesta's half-closed eyes didn't really react, though. "What do you want?" She asked bluntly.
"Were you sleeping?" The question was a courtesy. He could smell in the thick air of the room what she had been up to, despite the open window by the bed. The red eyes were proof as well.
"Yes." She lied. "Did you get lost?" Her sexy lack of patience was amusing and just what he had wanted to be greeted by.
There was soft music playing from her phone on the bed. "I'm almost where I want to be, actually." Cassian said, his eyes wandering through the room behind his girl.
The eye contact that followed was intense. Cassian wouldn't break it, he could stare at her annoyed frown for ages and never get tired. And Nesta wouldn't either, as she simply couldn't stand to lose. She had her hair up in a ponytail that had been perfectly neat maybe an hour ago and now struggled to contain a few pieces of hair that were too short in the front and framed her face. Although Cassian was sure there were a pair of shorts on her legs, they weren't visible under the big t-shirt she used as pajamas. The band logo was unrecognizable after so many trips to the washing machine over the years.
Knowing very few people were allowed to see the perfect Nesta Archeron looking this disheveled, but he was, only filled his chest with excitement. Because not only was he allowed to see it, he was also allowed to take her out of those clothes and make an even bigger mess of her.
"Are you going to stand there forever?"
"Until you invite me in." He retorted.
She rolled her eyes, but stepped to the side and opened the door enough for him to enter. He walked to the middle of the room and heard the door close behind him. "I don't think I've ever seen your bedroom." She didn't answer, nor did she address his presence when she walked back to her bed and jumped in. Cassian just stood there, taking in the empty white walls, the blue stripes of her sheets, and the fluffy rug in the middle of the room.
"I hate shoes inside the house." Cassian needn't be told twice. His socks were stark white, and Nesta took notice. Hers were as well. "Matching," she mumbled distractedly.
The only light came from a round lamp by her bed. It was warm and threw yellowy shades across the walls, the bed and her face. She looked relaxed, and Cassian wondered if he had ever seen her like this. So calm and comfortable. He absolutely hadn't. He would remember. Like he remembered the first and only time he had made her laugh out loud —and actually chuckle. Cassian felt like he should have, though. Hadn't he made her feel good in his arms? He had. Six times, no less.
But Nesta hadn't looked this at ease. Almost the opposite, he realized. She had wanted to get out of his embrace as soon as they were done. She always ran from him.
Well, not anymore. Tonight, he would demand she give him more —at least a chance—, or else they would be done forever.
Please, prove them wrong, he begged her. Prove you do care about me.
From the bed, Nesta stretched her arm to open a drawer. "Do you want some?" An untouched joint was offered to him.
"I've been told I am insufferable when I am drunk and high." He joked. Nesta's lips curled up, remembering the moment she spoke those words.
"You really are." She scouted to the side, leaving room for him on the bed. "But you are not drunk, though."
Absolutely not. He needed his mind to be clear for this. Nesta's parted lips were distracting enough. Her smell. The skin of her thigh hot against the back of his hand when he sat down. Their eyes met, and Cassian cursed himself for accepting the silent offer and getting in her bed. This was not what he had come up here for.
Had she not leaned in, Cassian might had found in him the strength to get up again. But she did lean in, and his body followed suit. She kissed him. He kissed her back, and Nesta was quick to make it deeper, to make it hungry and needy. His hand cupping her face was meant to steady them, as surely were Nesta's on his hair. And his arm finding its place around her waist, or her legs now straddling him.
Yes, when his hand left her pretty face and met its double on Nesta's other hip, his goal was to make sure she was comfortably sitting on top of him. The grinding it caused was collateral damage. The seam of his jeans rubbed the right inch on her body, and soon Nesta was moaning in his mouth.
Hadn't she leaned in, Cassian would be standing on the fluffy carpet, pouring his heart out for her. But she did. And so he was now stripping her of her t-shirt and delighting himself in the realization that Nesta had not been wearing any kind of shorts under it. Just some lovely black panties he was quick to pull aside.
"Fuck!" She let out when his fingers pushed inside her. She was soaking wet just from making out.
There was no excuse for that.
"Tell me what you want." He demanded.
With her mouth open in a silent exclamation, Nesta rode his hand like she should be riding his cock. He curled his two fingers inside her, making her tremble. To keep her balance, Nesta's palms came to rest on his chest, supporting her weight. With her arms at her sides and her back arched, Nesta's tits were pushed right to his face. Not wanting to disrespect his host, Cassian's mouth was on them in an instant.
Hadn't she leaned in...
Nesta tried her best to contain her whimpers, and he did his best to steal new ones from her lips. "Tell me what you want." He repeated, now that Nesta was approaching her climax.
"I just want to come." She pleaded. Her gray eyes found his and gave him that look that almost had him coming in his pants. "Please, Cassian, make me come."
"And what do I get?" He teased, freeing her nipples from the pleasure and torture of his tongue on them. She shuddered, probably feeling the cold now that they were wet with his saliva.
Nesta didn't answer, so he had to be tougher on her. She was lost in her thoughts, bouncing on his hand and enjoying the feeling of his thumb on her clit. With his left hand, Cassian halted her movement just so he could slip his right from under her. Nesta whimpered again, but this time it was unsatisfaction what lingered on her pouting lips. An unexpected swat across her butcheeks made her jump slightly. It had taken her by surprise, although it shouldn't have. She knew what would come when she didn't answer him the first time. "What do I get, Nes?" Cassian was getting tired of repeating himself. She knew better. He spanked her again, just because he wanted to see her tits bounce in his face when she felt it and reacted.
Like a cat, Nesta stretched her body and rested it flat on top of his, gaining access to his neck and covering it in kisses. It was Cassian's turn to groan, more so when she nibbled his earlobe, and he practically melted when Nesta's plump lips sought his again. She was such a smooth kisser, so good at it, Cassian almost forgot she was the one supposed to be begging for his touch, not the other way around. He rolled over, pressing her against the bed now, and grabbed her tits with perhaps more force than needed. Not that Nesta ever complained about sex getting a bit rough. He kneaded them and pulled her nipples to his will, enjoying how hard they got against his palms and how she arched her back for more. When her tongue entered his mouth, Cassian knew she was desperate.
"Anything you want." She promised, thinking she knew exactly what he would take as compensation. "You can have me any way you want, but please," A pause to let out a moan right by his ear, "please, make me come."
Cassian was quick enough in taking down his jeans that Nesta didn't complain about his warm body leaving hers. He wasn't quick enough to put on the condom she handed him from the bedside table, though, so Nesta got on her knees in front of him, matching his pose, and started kissing him again whilst he opened the silver square and wrapped himself in the rubber. When he was done, Cassian wasn't able to tell who was hornier. He only knew one second his hands were in Nesta's ass, taking her in the air, so she could wrap her legs around him, and the next he had slammed their bodies against the mattress again and was fucking her for all he was worth.
It would have been great to say she came quickly and repaid the favor by sucking him, but after all that grinding, Cassian was as close to coming as she was. She squeezed him so tightly he stood no chance, and soon they were both panting, Cassian all the way in and Nesta holding on to him like her life depended on it, needing him even closer. When the climax ran through them, Cassian didn't pull out, nor did she urge him to. Instead, her fingertips started dancing through his back. Making circles at first, then more complicated shapes. Something like triangles, then curves, and more sharp angles right after.
Cassian thanked his past self for staying sober tonight, so he was conscious enough to understand the meaning of the lines she drew.
"Come on a date with me." He whispered against her ear.
"No." Her answer came immediately. Not harshly, at least not with the intention to be harsh. She said the wordas a matter of fact. Empty of feeling.
He closed his eyes. Why? Wasn't this what she wanted? For him to be blunt with his expectations? "You said anything I wanted." Cassian reminded her. He didn't move. Their bodies were still tangled over her bed: him inside her, her legs caging his waist, and her arms hugging his neck. How could Nesta reject him while holding him with such care?
As if she had read his mind, Nesta let go of him completely, and he had no choice but to sit up. Somehow quicker than Cassian had been when he took them out, Nesta gave him his underwear and jeans back for him to put them on. "I meant something like a blowjob and to swallow." Her coarse words hurt his ego more than his feelings. He didn't answer.
Cassian got up and pulled up his pants, then seated himself again and stared at her, a question in his eyes. She could read it—she in fact did—, but didn't answer. Cassian wondered, had she not leaned in, would he have been brave enough to ask her out with the words he had carried from the football field? Would the result have been the same, or was the fact that they always fucked first, talked later what made them go in circles?
"It was a good game. You did good." Her suddenly bringing that up only made things more awkward.
"Yeah." Cassian would rather leave now than sit through the silence that followed. He stayed, though, waiting for who knows what to happen and fix the atmosphere, to turn it into... what, exactly? She must have felt it too —the lack of appropriate words to end this night.
Cassian ran a hand through his hair. Nesta fixed it, her touch a ghost. He looked at her and demanded an explanation with just a stare. Nesta didn't give him that either.
"You should go down." She told him. There was no sharpness in her tone, and maybe that was her way of saying she was sorry.
Accepting his fate and just wanting to leave on a good note, Cassian raised a teasing eyebrow and eyed what was between her legs.
"Not that." There it was: the eye rolling, the cute annoyance. "I meant downstairs, to the party. They are probably looking for you."
Indeed.
"You are saying a lot of things you don't mean tonight, Nes. It's kind of confusing."
The accusation finally woke her up from the post-orgasm haze. She jumped out of bed, leaving her t-shirt behind, and going for the door. "You are confusing." Her voice told Cassian she meant it.
"I think I've made myself pretty clear, though. Haven't I?" He took his shoes in one hand and followed her.
"Haven't I?" She retorted, turning around to face him. The defiance in her eyes burned bright, giving her an intimidating glow that compensated her lack of a top. Cassian didn't even look at her tits.
She opened the door for him. He closed it before the gap was wide enough for him to go through.
"Would it kill you to give me a chance?" He finally spat.
"A chance for what, Cassian? What exactly do you expect? To continue with the fucking, but once a week, grab dinner together?"
"Well, yeah." Cassian still couldn't understand what was so awful about spending time with him outside their bedroom, a small bathroom or an empty classroom. Be seen out in the open, grab her hand and kiss it just because he feels like it. For Nesta to wear his jersey to his games and celebrate with him and his friends afterward. Grab dinner when their schedules allow, and then go home together.
Nesta held his stare, and this time he couldn't read it. Which could only mean she didn't want him to. Cassian sighed.
"Okay, so whatever I want?" He brought up Nesta's sex-induced promise again. "Just give me a reason I can understand." When she opened her mouth, Cassian's finger sealed it again. "If you want a guy to get you drinks at a party, why can't it be me? If you want to hang out with a guy on a Friday night and go watch a game together, why won't you let it be me? And don't give me an I don't like you, because you clearly do. What is so awful about me that you don't want to even try?"
When she closed her eyes, unable to look into his, Cassian's heart sank, understanding that there was a reason after all.
"I've tried." She confessed. "I've seen what spending time with you is like, and I don't want it." Not only didn't Cassian interrupt her, but he urged her to keep going, curious to see where she was going. "I've been in a room with you and your friends and remember what was said to me for even looking in your direction a little too long." She started counting with her fingers. "I've spent the afternoon with you guys and been completely ignored by every single one, including you, although I was invited to be there. We've had lunch, I've been trapped at one of your dinner parties and on Feyre's birthday, and there is nothing you can possibly offer me in a relationship to make up for how awful I've been treated every single time and how you did nothing to stop it from happening. How stupid do you think I am to sign up for that again?"
Cassian was equal parts offended on his friend's behalf and his own. Had it been anyone else in front of him, he wouldn't have bitten his tongue at the insult to his friends. They had never spoken ill of her to her face or purposefully tried to exclude her. She simply didn't fit in with the group, and that was okay. They could spend time alone.
"If that is what I'm getting myself into..." She corrected herself, saying, "If that is what you can offer me, then I don't want it."
"Don't you think a relationship is a little more complicated than liking my friends or not?"
"I am in Pre-Med, Cassian, I don't have the time for complicated. I want easy. This..." She signaled between the two, "This is easy. And I like it a lot."
It was his time to be cold. "Sorry, but this won't do it for me." Cassian took a step back, putting much-needed physical space between them. "Obviously, I can't be with someone who thinks that about my friends."
She agreed and stepped to the side, making room to open the door for him. "And I can't be with someone who would let their friends say exactly the same things about me." It was the brief silence as the words sank in what pushed her to keep going. "To be honest, and I am not saying this to be hurtful, you don't deserve more."
Cassian only nodded, not necessarily in agreement, not fully differing either. He understood.
So another Nesta action that I’d love to get your insight is Nesta asking Feyre to teacher her to paint after she returns from Tamlin. IMO this is Nesta know that her sister needs purpose. That it was Nesta’s way of helping Feyre transition back into the mortal world. And most importantly she did this in a way the respected Feyre’s pride. Feyre’s pride a big part of a lot of problems between the sisters
Love this moment between the two sisters!! I disliked Nesta when I started the book, of course, but when Feyre comes back the first time, and realizes Nesta wanted to get her back so badly she spent their last coins on hiring the mercenary woman, and resisted Tamlin's spell, I warmed up to her, as I read Feyre doing.
Idk, the conversation they had seemed to me like Nesta aknowledging she was in debt with her sister and wanting to make their new house a home for her too. Nesta offers a painting studio because she initially thinks Feyre will stay, and for me her asking Feyre to teach her is an olive branch, a way of saying "I am willing to put effort into building a bond".
Then Feyre confides in Nesta that she actually wants to go back to Prythian, wich, again, for me it read as Feyre being confident that Nesta will understand, and pouring her heart out in front of her believing this time Nesta won't shame her for it. Like, Feyre thinks if there is someone who she can talk to in the house, it's Nesta. And she happens to be right about it, btw. Nesta encourages her to go and be happy, to not worry about them. She only asks that, if it is ever safe, to write back so she knows.
From this scene and onwards, I consider their bad relationship the years prior to be water under the bridge for both. I know they had issues again, in the end they are very different, both of them very proud, but each and every time Feyre asks Nesta for help from that moment, Nesta obliges. The only time she hesitates is when she is asked to share her experience *being killed and reborn* and she doesn't want to, which she ends up doing anyway when Feyre threatens using Elain instead, who is basically a zombie at the time.
hey could you tag me in the fixing acosf series please? thanks :) love your writing
Hi babe! I consider the fic to be finished, all parts published in my AO3, but if there is a scene you would like rewritten that I didn't do, tell me and I can give it a try :)
i don’t get why nesta stans have to constantly justify her actions in the cottage in the first book. sjm has already admitted that nesta and elain were written as flat characters with no real personality other than their original purpose (give feyre pity points). so many stans of different characters justify their liking through arguing the character had been ooc when they did a bad thing (tamlin, rhysand, feyre, etc. all have stans that argue this). what tf is so wrong with nesta stans doing the same thing?? elain and nesta stans are quite literally the only people who have concrete confirmation from sjm herself that their characters were ooc in the first book. why justify flat characterization? i don’t get it.
that’s fair ig. nesta’s actions aren’t nearly as egregious as, say, rhysand’s or tamlin’s, but it’s already ooc anyway. there’s no need defending something that doesn’t contribute to her current character. they were just plot devices in the beginning of the first book. taking their actions in those moments and comparing it to the full scale of their characters is blatant bad faith opinions of the characters anyway.
Do you ever stop and think how it must have felt for Rhysand to realize he can give Feyre a new family, her dream home, power and status, a crown and more money than she will ever need only to find out she won't be truly happy until Nesta is in her life to enjoy it with her?
♕ Announcing Nesta Archeron Appreciation Week 2023 ♕
Join us in celebrating Nesta Archeron from April 23 through April 29, 2023!
Welcome back to Nesta Week 2023! We decided to move the event up sooner in the year in honor of Nesta being born sometime in the spring, so we hope you're ready to celebrate our queen a little sooner than expected! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nesta is welcome!
Please tag @nestaarcheronweek and use the tag #NestaWeek2023 so we can see all your lovely posts!
This year’s prompts are as follows:
Day One: Sister ♕ Nesta has a unique bond with her sisters, whether that's with Feyre and Elain or Emerie and Gwyn. How do you see her interacting with them?
Day Two: Sharp ♕ Nesta's wit — and her love of pointy objects — has been well-documented across the series. What's your take on how this word applies to her?
Day Three: Valkyrie ♕ Nesta trained hard to earn the title of Valkyie in A Court of Silver Flames. How do you see her embodying the title of Valkyrie?
Day Four: Lover ♕ Nesta has had many opportunities for love across Prythain — who do you ship her with? Cassian? Emerie? Eris? Gwyn? Azriel? Cresseida? Any and all ships are welcome!
Day Five: Birthday Girl ♕ While Nesta doesn't have a specified birthday in canon, that doesn't mean we can't celebrate our favorite character turning a year older! How do you think Nesta and the people who love her would celebrate her special day?
Day Six: Lady Death ♕ After surviving the Cauldron, Nesta became one of the most powerful characters in Prythian. What do you think Lady Death's magic looks like?
Day Seven: Free Day ♕ Any topic of your choosing!
A huge shoutout to @dustjacketmusings, @c-e-d-dreamer, @talkfantasytome, @isterofimias, and many others for helping to plan this event!
Please contact @moodymelanist with any questions about the event. We can't wait to see what you all create!
