pairing: megan skiendiel x fem!reader
info: astronaut y/n is sent into space in 2016 and returns ten years later to a world that moved on without her. as she rebuilds her life, she finds a place with katseye, and something real with megan.
warnings: fluff, time travel, loss of home country, displacement, identity adjustment, found family, slow burn, soft romance
note: this is very loosely inspired by the show Manifest. if you havenât seen it, you should! this is the most detailed thing i've ever written, gotta split it in two. enjoy! [pt. 1 word count: 8k+ | 19k+ total]
The morning of the launch was strangely quiet.
Not silentâthere were still the sounds of machinery humming beneath the floors of the facility, the distant rumble of transport vehicles moving across the concrete outsideâbut the quiet inside the preparation wing felt heavier than usual. It pressed into the walls and settled in the corners of the room where Y/N sat, dressed in the pale blue compression suit that would go beneath the bulkier layers of her astronaut gear.
For months she had imagined this moment.
Years, even.
Becoming an astronaut in Avernia had never been something people thought of as realistic. The country was small compared to the global powers that dominated space exploration. Its coastlines were narrow, its population modest, its resources carefully balanced between technological advancement and simple survival. But despite its size, Avernia had always carried a quiet pride in the things it managed to accomplish.
And Asteria-1 was meant to be its greatest accomplishment yet.
Y/N sat with her hands folded together, staring down at the floor tiles beneath her boots. The fabric of the suit felt tight around her arms, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely, drifting between the memories that had led her here.
Training simulations.
Long nights studying orbital trajectories.
Endless hours inside rotating chambers meant to prepare her body for the strain of launch.
All of it had led to today.
A knock sounded lightly on the door.
Y/N looked up.
One of the technicians leaned into the room, holding a clipboard in one hand.
âWeâre ready for you.â
Y/N stood slowly, smoothing her hands over the front of the suit as she exhaled.
Her heartbeat had been steady all morning.
Now it picked up slightly.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
The hallway outside the preparation room was lined with people. Engineers. Technicians. Mission coordinators. Some of them she recognized from years of training, others were faces she had only seen occasionally in passing.
Every one of them looked at her as she walked by.
There was pride in their expressions.
Hope.
Avernia had never sent someone this far before.
The Asteria-1 mission wasnât just a symbolic step for the countryâs space program. It was a research mission meant to test long-duration orbital technology and deep communication systems. If successful, it would open the door for future missionsâpossibly even cooperative projects with larger nations.
And Y/N had been chosen to represent all of it.
By the time she reached the final chamber, the rest of the suit had been prepared.
The technicians helped guide her into the outer layers, securing the seals along her arms and torso before locking the helmet into place. Their movements were practiced and efficient.
Still, one of them paused briefly before stepping back.
âYouâre going to make history today.â
Y/N smiled faintly.
âI hope so.â
A transport vehicle waited outside the building to take her to the launch platform.
The drive was short, but it felt longer as she watched the facility pass by through the small window beside her seat.
Beyond the outer gates, the rocket stood tall against the morning sky.
Asteria-1.
The launch tower surrounded it like a skeletal frame, metal beams rising alongside the smooth white body of the spacecraft.
Even after months of seeing it in person, the sight still filled her with awe.
Soon, she would be inside it.
The final preparations moved quickly.
She climbed the access tower with steady steps, guided by two technicians who remained silent as they reached the top platform.
From there, the entrance hatch waited.
Y/N paused for a moment, looking out across the coastline stretching beyond the facility.
The ocean glimmered in the distance beneath the rising sunlight.
Somewhere beyond that horizon was the rest of the world.
But today, she would be leaving all of it behind.
The technician nearest to her opened the hatch.
âReady?â
Y/N nodded.
âReady.â
The interior of the spacecraft was smaller than most people imagined when they thought of space missions.
The command seat sat at the center of the narrow control area, surrounded by panels of switches and digital screens. Storage compartments lined the walls, and beyond them was the compact living section where she would spend the majority of her time during the mission.
Everything had been designed with efficiency in mind.
Every inch of space mattered.
Y/N secured herself into the seat and began running through the final system checks.
Her voice echoed faintly inside the helmet as she spoke into the communication line.
âGround control, this is Asteria-1. Pre-launch checks complete.â
A calm voice answered her from the headset.
âLoud and clear, Asteria-1. All systems green.â
The countdown began shortly afterward.
Even after all the training simulations, nothing quite prepared her for the real thing.
The vibration started slowly, spreading through the metal structure of the spacecraft as the engines ignited beneath it. The rumble deepened into a thunderous roar that filled every corner of the cockpit.
Y/N tightened her grip on the armrests.
The numbers on the display ticked downward.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The rocket surged upward.
The force pressed her firmly back into the seat as the ground fell away beneath the spacecraft. The acceleration was intense, but her training allowed her body to adjust quickly.
Outside the small window beside her seat, the sky shifted from pale blue to a darker shade as the rocket climbed higher.
Clouds drifted below them.
Then the ocean.
Then the curvature of the Earth itself.
Within minutes, the violent shaking faded as the rocket reached orbit.
Weightlessness followed shortly after.
Y/N carefully released the harness straps and pushed herself away from the seat, letting her body drift slowly through the small cabin.
She smiled.
For a moment, everything felt perfect.
The mission settled into a quiet routine over the next several days.
Y/N performed scheduled experiments, recorded data logs, and maintained communication with the mission team back in Avernia. The spacecraftâs orbit carried her across the planet multiple times each day, offering a constantly shifting view of the world below.
Sometimes she floated near the observation window for long stretches of time.
From space, the Earth looked peaceful.
No borders.
No conflicts.
Just clouds swirling above vast oceans and continents.
It was easy to forget how complicated life on the surface could be.
The communication system allowed her to stay in contact with ground control several times a day.
Most of the conversations were simple.
Status updates.
Research data.
Occasional jokes from the technicians who had helped build the spacecraft.
They sounded proud every time they spoke to her.
Proud that Avernia had made it this far.
Proud that the mission was running smoothly.
Then one night, something changed.
Y/N had just finished recording one of the scheduled research logs when the communication signal crackled in her headset.
She frowned slightly, adjusting one of the frequency dials on the control panel.
âGround control, do you copy?â
Static answered her.
She waited a moment.
Then tried again.
âGround control, this is Asteria-1. Do you read?â
Still nothing.
That wasnât completely unusual. Signal disruptions could happen briefly depending on the spacecraftâs position relative to the ground antennas.
Normally, the connection returned within a few minutes.
But the minutes passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
An hour.
Y/N floated near the communication panel, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the console.
The silence inside the cabin suddenly felt heavier than it had before.
She ran another diagnostic check.
All systems appeared normal.
The transmitter was working.
The antenna alignment was correct.
There was no reason for the signal to be failing.
She leaned closer to the microphone again.
âGround control, this is Asteria-1 requesting status update.â
Nothing.
The quiet stretched on.
Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharper than usual against the darkness of space.
Y/N forced herself to remain calm.
Temporary communication outages were part of spaceflight.
Still, something about this one felt⊠different.
Hours passed.
Eventually she drifted back toward the command seat, securing herself loosely into the harness as she watched the navigation display.
The spacecraftâs orbit remained stable.
Everything appeared normal.
Except for the complete absence of contact with Earth.
Then the radar screen flickered.
At first, she thought it was another minor system glitch.
But the flicker returned a few seconds later.
The lines across the display shifted slightly.
Y/N leaned forward, studying the readings.
The spacecraftâs trajectory was changing.
Not dramatically.
But enough to be noticeable.
Her fingers moved quickly across the control panel as she attempted to stabilize the navigation system.
âAsteria-1 attempting manual correction.â
The engines responded briefly.
For a moment, the readings stabilized.
Then the radar screen flashed again.
This time the shift was stronger.
The stars outside the window seemed to distort slightly, as if the darkness around the spacecraft had briefly rippled.
Y/Nâs breath caught.
That wasnât possible.
Space didnât behave like that.
The instruments began registering unfamiliar readings across multiple systems.
Radiation spikes.
Magnetic interference.
Navigation errors that didnât match any known malfunction patterns.
A sharp burst of light flashed across the observation window.
The spacecraft jolted violently.
Y/N gripped the armrests as the cabin lights flickered.
The radar display scrambled completely for several seconds before going dark.
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Y/N slowly released her grip on the controls.
Her heart was pounding now.
Outside the window, the stars looked normal again.
Too normal.
The navigation system rebooted automatically, bringing the radar screen back to life.
The orbit path displayed across the monitor updated itself.
Y/N stared at the new readings.
Her brow furrowed.
Something about them felt⊠wrong.
But without communication with ground control, she had no way to confirm what had happened.
For the moment, all she could do was wait.
And hope someone on Earth was still listening.
The hours after the anomaly passed slowly. Y/N kept herself busy moving between the control console and the observation window, checking every system she could think of while she waited for Avernia Ground Control to respond. The spacecraft itself seemed perfectly stable. Power levels remained consistent, oxygen flow was normal, and the navigation system continued tracking the same orbit it had followed since launch. Nothing in the diagnostic panels suggested damage or malfunction, which only made the silence from Earth feel more unsettling. If the systems were functioning correctly, then someone back home should have been able to hear her.
She floated back toward the communication console and adjusted the transmission frequency again. The small cabin lights reflected faintly across the control screens while she worked, casting pale glows over the narrow interior of the spacecraft. Everything looked exactly as it had earlier in the mission. The equipment hummed softly around her, filling the quiet with the steady background noise she had grown used to during the first few days in orbit.
Still, the headset remained silent.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch once more, keeping her voice steady even though the situation was beginning to feel strange.
âAvernia Ground Control, this is Asteria-1 requesting signal confirmation.â
Static answered her.
The faint crackle faded after a few seconds, leaving nothing behind but the hum of the spacecraftâs life support system. Y/N watched the communication panel for a moment longer before releasing the transmit button. Signal interruptions were normal during orbital passes, especially when the spacecraft moved beyond the direct range of the primary antenna stations. Normally the connection returned quickly once the craft moved back into position.
This time, it didnât.
Another hour passed while she attempted several different frequencies. Each attempt produced the same empty result. The silence inside the cabin grew heavier with each failed transmission, pressing into the small space around her in a way she hadnât noticed earlier in the mission.
Eventually she tried one of the broader emergency channels used by international monitoring networks. It wasnât meant to replace direct mission control, but those channels were constantly scanning for signals from spacecraft and satellites around the planet. If Avernia couldnât hear her for some reason, there was a chance another station might pick up the transmission.
She adjusted the output power slightly and leaned toward the microphone.
âThis is Asteria-1 broadcasting on emergency channel frequency. If anyone can hear this transmission, please respond.â
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then the static in her headset shifted.
A faint sound pushed through the interference, barely audible at first. Y/N straightened immediately, her hand tightening slightly around the edge of the console as she listened. It wasnât clear enough to make out words yet, but it was definitely different from the empty static she had been hearing all night.
The voice on the other end sounded distant and distorted.
ââŠrepeat⊠unidentified signal detectedâŠâ
Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.
âThis is astronaut Y/N aboard the Asteria-1 spacecraft. Please confirm you are receiving this transmission.â
The static crackled again before the voice returned, a little clearer this time.
Y/N frowned slightly. The response sounded confused, almost cautious, which wasnât the reaction she expected from someone answering a standard spacecraft transmission.
âThis is the Asteria-1 mission launched from Avernia in 2016. Please confirm your station.â
The voice disappeared for several seconds before returning again. This time it sounded more focused, as if the person speaking had moved closer to their equipment.
âRepeat that identification.â
âThis is astronaut Y/N aboard Asteria-1, launched by the Avernia Space Agency.â
Silence filled the line again, but this time it didnât feel like a broken signal. Y/N could hear faint movement in the background of the transmissionâdistant voices, the shuffle of equipment, the low murmur of people speaking somewhere near the microphone. Whoever had picked up her signal clearly wasnât alone.
She waited patiently, floating beside the console while the spacecraft drifted through orbit.
When the voice returned, it sounded steadier.
âUnidentified spacecraft, please confirm your launch date.â
Y/N answered without hesitation.
âApril 12th, 2016.â
Another pause followed, longer than the ones before it. The faint background voices became louder for a moment as if the person on the other end had turned away from the microphone to speak to someone else nearby. Y/N couldnât make out the words, but the tone sounded surprised.
When the man finally spoke again, his voice carried a careful edge.
âCan you confirm your launch origin again?â
âAvernia Space Agency orbital launch facility.â
There was a quiet intake of breath on the other end of the line.
Y/N noticed it immediately.
The reaction made something cold settle slowly in her chest.
The man spoke again after another moment.
âStand by.â
The transmission didnât disconnect, but the manâs voice faded into the background again while he spoke to someone else at his station. Y/N could hear several different voices now, their words overlapping too much to understand clearly. The tone of the conversation sounded serious.
She remained still beside the console while she waited.
The cabin lights reflected softly off the metal panels surrounding her. Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharp and steady against the darkness of space. The Earth rotated slowly beneath the spacecraft, its atmosphere glowing faintly along the edge of the planet.
Everything outside looked normal.
Inside the cockpit, Y/N felt a growing sense that something was very wrong.
The voice returned a minute later.
âThis is the Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network. Please confirm again: you identify as the Asteria-1 mission?â
Y/N blinked.
That wasnât an Avernia station.
âYes. Thatâs correct.â
Another pause.
Then the man spoke again, sounding more serious now.
âAsteria-1⊠what year do you believe it is?â
Y/N frowned slightly.
â2016.â
The silence that followed stretched much longer this time.
Y/N could hear quiet voices again in the background, but the man didnât respond immediately. Instead it sounded like he was speaking with several other people before returning to the microphone.
When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed.
âItâs currently 2026.â
Y/N stared at the console.
The numbers didnât make sense.
For a moment she wondered if she had misheard him through the static.
âThis transmission is experiencing interference.â
Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the console.
âPlease repeat the year.â
â2026.â
The answer came immediately this time.
The quiet inside the cabin deepened.
Y/N looked toward the navigation display again as if the orbit readings might somehow contradict what she had just heard. The screen showed the same stable trajectory around Earth that it had displayed earlier. All of the onboard clocks still matched the mission timeline she had been following since launch.
Nothing about the spacecraft suggested ten years had passed.
âThatâs not possible.â
The man didnât argue.
Instead he asked another question.
âCan you confirm the last communication you received from Avernia Ground Control?â
Y/N tried to think back.
âThe last confirmed transmission occurred shortly before the anomaly event. Ground control reported stable mission status.â
Another quiet conversation seemed to happen on the other end of the line before the man spoke again.
His voice sounded softer now.
âAsteria-1⊠according to international records, your spacecraft disappeared shortly after launch.â
Y/Nâs stomach twisted slightly.
âThatâs incorrect.â
âWe have no recorded transmissions after the initial launch window.â
Y/N stared at the dark window beside the console.
The stars outside seemed impossibly distant.
Her mind tried to process the information, but it refused to fit together logically. She remembered speaking to the mission team several times after reaching orbit. She had performed experiments, logged data, reported system checks.
Those conversations had happened.
They had to have happened.
âThere must be a mistake in your records.â
The man didnât respond immediately.
When he did speak again, his voice sounded careful.
âAsteria-1, we are currently verifying several things.â
Y/N waited quietly while he continued.
âFor now, we need you to remain in your current orbit.â
âWhy?â
Another pause followed.
The background voices returned again, quieter this time.
Then the man spoke again, his tone more official than before.
âYou must remain in space for the time being.â
Y/Nâs grip tightened slightly on the console.
âExplain.â
The silence that followed felt heavy.
When the man finally spoke again, his words were measured.
âThe country that launched your mission no longer exists.â
The hours after the anomaly passed slowly. Y/N kept herself busy moving between the control console and the observation window, checking every system she could think of while she waited for Avernia Ground Control to respond. The spacecraft itself seemed perfectly stable. Power levels remained consistent, oxygen flow was normal, and the navigation system continued tracking the same orbit it had followed since launch. Nothing in the diagnostic panels suggested damage or malfunction, which only made the silence from Earth feel more unsettling. If the systems were functioning correctly, then someone back home should have been able to hear her.
She floated back toward the communication console and adjusted the transmission frequency again. The small cabin lights reflected faintly across the control screens while she worked, casting pale glows over the narrow interior of the spacecraft. Everything looked exactly as it had earlier in the mission. The equipment hummed softly around her, filling the quiet with the steady background noise she had grown used to during the first few days in orbit.
Still, the headset remained silent.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch once more, keeping her voice steady even though the situation was beginning to feel strange.
âAvernia Ground Control, this is Asteria-1 requesting signal confirmation.â
Static answered her.
The faint crackle faded after a few seconds, leaving nothing behind but the hum of the spacecraftâs life support system. Y/N watched the communication panel for a moment longer before releasing the transmit button. Signal interruptions were normal during orbital passes, especially when the spacecraft moved beyond the direct range of the primary antenna stations. Normally the connection returned quickly once the craft moved back into position.
This time, it didnât.
Another hour passed while she attempted several different frequencies. Each attempt produced the same empty result. The silence inside the cabin grew heavier with each failed transmission, pressing into the small space around her in a way she hadnât noticed earlier in the mission.
Eventually she tried one of the broader emergency channels used by international monitoring networks. It wasnât meant to replace direct mission control, but those channels were constantly scanning for signals from spacecraft and satellites around the planet. If Avernia couldnât hear her for some reason, there was a chance another station might pick up the transmission.
She adjusted the output power slightly and leaned toward the microphone.
âThis is Asteria-1 broadcasting on emergency channel frequency. If anyone can hear this transmission, please respond.â
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then the static in her headset shifted.
A faint sound pushed through the interference, barely audible at first. Y/N straightened immediately, her hand tightening slightly around the edge of the console as she listened. It wasnât clear enough to make out words yet, but it was definitely different from the empty static she had been hearing all night.
The voice on the other end sounded distant and distorted.
ââŠrepeat⊠unidentified signal detectedâŠâ
Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.
âThis is astronaut Y/N aboard the Asteria-1 spacecraft. Please confirm you are receiving this transmission.â
The static crackled again before the voice returned, a little clearer this time.
Y/N frowned slightly. The response sounded confused, almost cautious, which wasnât the reaction she expected from someone answering a standard spacecraft transmission.
âThis is the Asteria-1 mission launched from Avernia in 2016. Please confirm your station.â
The voice disappeared for several seconds before returning again. This time it sounded more focused, as if the person speaking had moved closer to their equipment.
âRepeat that identification.â
âThis is astronaut Y/N aboard Asteria-1, launched by the Avernia Space Agency.â
Silence filled the line again, but this time it didnât feel like a broken signal. Y/N could hear faint movement in the background of the transmissionâdistant voices, the shuffle of equipment, the low murmur of people speaking somewhere near the microphone. Whoever had picked up her signal clearly wasnât alone.
She waited patiently, floating beside the console while the spacecraft drifted through orbit.
When the voice returned, it sounded steadier.
âUnidentified spacecraft, please confirm your launch date.â
Y/N answered without hesitation.
âApril 12th, 2016.â
Another pause followed, longer than the ones before it. The faint background voices became louder for a moment as if the person on the other end had turned away from the microphone to speak to someone else nearby. Y/N couldnât make out the words, but the tone sounded surprised.
When the man finally spoke again, his voice carried a careful edge.
âCan you confirm your launch origin again?â
âAvernia Space Agency orbital launch facility.â
There was a quiet intake of breath on the other end of the line.
Y/N noticed it immediately.
The reaction made something cold settle slowly in her chest.
The man spoke again after another moment.
âStand by.â
The transmission didnât disconnect, but the manâs voice faded into the background again while he spoke to someone else at his station. Y/N could hear several different voices now, their words overlapping too much to understand clearly. The tone of the conversation sounded serious.
She remained still beside the console while she waited.
The cabin lights reflected softly off the metal panels surrounding her. Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharp and steady against the darkness of space. The Earth rotated slowly beneath the spacecraft, its atmosphere glowing faintly along the edge of the planet.
Everything outside looked normal.
Inside the cockpit, Y/N felt a growing sense that something was very wrong.
The voice returned a minute later.
âThis is the Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network. Please confirm again: you identify as the Asteria-1 mission?â
Y/N blinked.
That wasnât an Avernia station.
âYes. Thatâs correct.â
Another pause.
Then the man spoke again, sounding more serious now.
âAsteria-1⊠what year do you believe it is?â
Y/N frowned slightly.
â2016.â
The silence that followed stretched much longer this time.
Y/N could hear quiet voices again in the background, but the man didnât respond immediately. Instead it sounded like he was speaking with several other people before returning to the microphone.
When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed.
âItâs currently 2026.â
Y/N stared at the console.
The numbers didnât make sense.
For a moment she wondered if she had misheard him through the static.
âThis transmission is experiencing interference.â
Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the console.
âPlease repeat the year.â
â2026.â
The answer came immediately this time.
The quiet inside the cabin deepened.
Y/N looked toward the navigation display again as if the orbit readings might somehow contradict what she had just heard. The screen showed the same stable trajectory around Earth that it had displayed earlier. All of the onboard clocks still matched the mission timeline she had been following since launch.
Nothing about the spacecraft suggested ten years had passed.
âThatâs not possible.â
The man didnât argue.
Instead he asked another question.
âCan you confirm the last communication you received from Avernia Ground Control?â
Y/N tried to think back.
âThe last confirmed transmission occurred shortly before the anomaly event. Ground control reported stable mission status.â
Another quiet conversation seemed to happen on the other end of the line before the man spoke again.
His voice sounded softer now.
âAsteria-1⊠according to international records, your spacecraft disappeared shortly after launch.â
Y/Nâs stomach twisted slightly.
âThatâs incorrect.â
âWe have no recorded transmissions after the initial launch window.â
Y/N stared at the dark window beside the console.
The stars outside seemed impossibly distant.
Her mind tried to process the information, but it refused to fit together logically. She remembered speaking to the mission team several times after reaching orbit. She had performed experiments, logged data, reported system checks.
Those conversations had happened.
They had to have happened.
âThere must be a mistake in your records.â
The man didnât respond immediately.
When he did speak again, his voice sounded careful.
âAsteria-1, we are currently verifying several things.â
Y/N waited quietly while he continued.
âFor now, we need you to remain in your current orbit.â
âWhy?â
Another pause followed.
The background voices returned again, quieter this time.
Then the man spoke again, his tone more official than before.
âYou must remain in space for the time being.â
Y/Nâs grip tightened slightly on the console.
âExplain.â
The silence that followed felt heavy.
When the man finally spoke again, his words were measured.
âThe country that launched your mission no longer exists.â
The words stayed with her long after the transmission fell quiet again. Y/N remained near the communication console, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the panel as if she might reach for the transmit switch at any moment. The hum of the spacecraft filled the silence, steady and unchanged, but everything else felt different now. The cabin that had once felt like a controlled, familiar environment now seemed too small, too still, like it was holding her in place while the rest of the world had moved on without her. Even the air felt heavier, not physically, but in a way she couldnât quite explain, like every breath carried the weight of information she hadnât been ready to hear.
She tried to make sense of what she had been told, but every thought led back to the same impossible conclusion. Ten years. The number didnât fit into her understanding of time, of the mission, of reality itself. She had experienced only a few days in orbit. Her logs confirmed it, the onboard systems confirmed it, and her own memory insisted on it. There had been no long stretch of unconsciousness, no indication that time had passed differently for her. Everything had been continuous, every moment leading directly into the next without interruption.
Everything had been normal.
Except for the anomaly.
The thought circled back again and again, refusing to settle. That single momentâthe flicker on the radar, the distortion outside the window, the burst of lightâhad been the only thing out of place. And somehow, that had been enough to change everything. It had taken her out of her own time and dropped her into a future she didnât belong to, a future that had erased everything she knew without giving her any chance to understand it.
Y/N pushed herself gently away from the console and drifted toward the observation window. The Earth turned slowly beneath her, unchanged in appearance, its atmosphere glowing faintly at the edges where sunlight met the curve of the planet. From this distance, nothing about it suggested loss or destruction. There were no visible signs of war, no evidence that an entire country had disappeared from the map. The oceans stretched endlessly, clouds drifting across continents in slow, graceful patterns.
But she knew that didnât mean anything.
From space, everything always looked peaceful.
Her reflection stared back at her again through the glass, distorted slightly by the curve of the window and the faint lighting inside the cabin. The helmet framed her face, making her seem smaller somehow, more distant from the world she was looking at. It was strange, seeing herself like that, suspended between everything she had lost and everything she didnât understand yet.
She swallowed slowly, her throat feeling dry despite the controlled environment.
Avernia was gone.
The thought didnât fully settle in yet. It hovered just out of reach, like her mind refused to accept it completely. She had left behind people there. Engineers, technicians, instructors. Faces she had seen every day leading up to the launch. Voices she had spoken to only hoursâdaysâbefore everything changed. People who had watched her climb into the spacecraft, who had believed in the mission, who had trusted her to represent everything Avernia had worked toward.
Now they were part of something she couldnât see anymore.
History.
The word felt too final, too distant, like it belonged in textbooks and records instead of her own life.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, letting herself drift in place. She focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing, on the familiar sensation of weightlessness surrounding her body. Those things hadnât changed. The spacecraft was still functioning. She was still alive. She was still here. Those were facts she could hold onto, even when everything else felt unstable.
That had to mean something.
Time passed without her noticing exactly how much. The concept of hours felt different now, stretched thin by everything she was trying to process. At some point, she drifted back toward the command seat, securing herself loosely in place as she stared at the navigation display. The orbit path continued its steady loop around the Earth, precise and unchanging. The onboard clock still tracked time based on the original mission parameters, counting seconds that no longer matched the world below.
It felt wrong, watching those numbers move forward as if nothing had happened.
A faint crackle from the headset broke the silence again, pulling her attention back toward the console. Y/N straightened immediately, her focus snapping back into place as she reached for the communication panel.
âAsteria-1, do you copy?â
The same voice from before.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch without hesitation.
âI copy.â
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a quieter exhale, as if the man had been waiting for that confirmation. The sound was subtle, but she noticed it anyway. It made the distance between them feel slightly smaller, like there was at least one person on Earth who understood that she was still here.
âWeâre still verifying your situation.â
Y/Nâs grip tightened slightly on the console.
âThen verify it faster.â
The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with frustration that had been building since the moment she first heard the year. She didnât take them back, though. The tension inside her had nowhere else to go, and the silence that followed her attempts to understand what was happening only made it worse.
Another pause followed, but the man didnât sound offended when he spoke again.
âWe understand this is difficult.â
âYou donât.â
The response came more quietly this time, but it carried just as much weight. Y/N let out a slow breath afterward, forcing herself to steady her voice before continuing. She needed answers more than she needed to push the person on the other end of the line away.
âI need information.â
âWeâre working on it.â
âWhat happened to Avernia?â
The question felt heavier than anything else she had said so far. It wasnât just about the country itself. It was about everything connected to it, everything she had left behind without realizing she was leaving it for the last time.
There was a pause before the man answered. Y/N could hear faint background noise again, the low murmur of other voices filtering through the line as he seemed to confer with someone nearby. When he returned, his tone had shifted slightly, becoming more careful, more deliberate.
âThere was a conflict.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened.
âWith who?â
âA larger nation. The situation escalated quickly.â
âHow quickly?â
There was another pause, shorter this time, but still noticeable.
âWithin months.â
The answer settled heavily in the space between them. Months. While she had been floating above the planet, following a routine that felt stable and controlled, everything below had been changing at a pace she couldnât even imagine.
âWhat about evacuations?â
âWe donât have full records of civilian movement.â
âAnd the space agency?â
Another pause.
âDestroyed.â
The word landed harder than the others. It wasnât unexpected after everything else she had been told, but hearing it confirmed made it real in a way nothing else had yet. The place where she had trained, where she had prepared for this mission, where she had built relationships with people who believed in herâit was gone.
Y/Nâs fingers curled slightly against the edge of the panel, her nails pressing into the material of her gloves. She didnât speak right away. There wasnât anything she could say that would change what she had just heard.
The man continued after a moment, his voice quieter now.
âThere were attempts to preserve certain technologies and data, but most of Averniaâs infrastructure was lost during the conflict.â
Y/N closed her eyes again briefly.
The training facilities.
The launch site.
The control rooms filled with voices she had trusted.
Gone.
She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the display in front of her as if it might ground her in something stable.
âAnd no one tried to contact the spacecraft?â
There was a hesitation before the answer came.
âThere were attempts.â
âThen why didnât I receive anything?â
âWeâre still trying to understand that.â
Y/N let out a slow breath, the frustration mixing with the confusion in a way that made it difficult to focus on any one emotion. Every answer seemed to create more questions, and none of them led to anything solid.
âWhat am I supposed to do now?â
The question came out quieter this time, less sharp, more uncertain. It wasnât something she had ever imagined needing to ask. The mission had always been structured, planned down to the smallest detail. There had always been a next step, a clear direction.
Now there wasnât.
The response from the other end came more quickly than before.
âFor now, you maintain your current orbit.â
âFor how long?â
âUntil we can safely coordinate your return.â
Y/N frowned slightly.
âWhatâs stopping me from returning now?â
Another pause followed, but this one felt different. More deliberate, as if the man was choosing his words carefully.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a tone of explanation.
âYour spacecraftâs re-entry protocols were designed to align with Averniaâs recovery infrastructure.â
Y/Nâs stomach dropped slightly as she understood what he meant.
âThe infrastructure doesnât exist anymore.â
âNot in its original form.â
She looked down at the control panel, at the systems she had trusted completely when she launched. Everything had been built with a specific plan in mind. A specific landing sequence. A specific location. A place that had been prepared to receive her, to guide her safely back to Earth.
A place that was gone.
âWeâre coordinating with international agencies to create an alternative re-entry plan.â
âHow long will that take?â
âWe donât have an exact timeline yet.â
Y/N leaned back slightly, letting her head rest against the padded support of the seat behind her. The cabin lights cast a soft glow over the interior, making everything feel strangely calm despite the conversation she was having.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again.
âSo I just stay up here.â
âFor now.â
The words echoed faintly in the small space.
Y/N let out a quiet breath.
âFor now,â she repeated.
The transmission remained open for a while longer after that. The man asked her a series of technical questions, and Y/N answered them automatically, falling back into the structured responses she had practiced during training. Power levels, oxygen reserves, navigation stability, system diagnostics. Everything still worked exactly as it should, which was both reassuring and frustrating at the same time.
The spacecraft hadnât failed her.
Time had.
Eventually, the questions slowed, and the manâs voice softened again.
âWeâll contact you as soon as we have more information.â
Y/N nodded, even though he couldnât see her.
âIâll be here.â
There was a brief pause before the line went quiet again.
The silence returned, but it didnât feel the same as before. It wasnât empty anymore. It carried weight now, filled with everything she had learned and everything she still didnât understand. It pressed into the edges of the cabin, settling into the spaces between the equipment and the walls.
Y/N unstrapped herself from the seat and drifted back toward the observation window. The Earth continued its slow rotation beneath her, unchanged and distant, as if nothing had happened at all. The clouds moved in soft patterns across the surface, oceans stretching endlessly beneath them.
She rested her gloved hand lightly against the glass.
Ten years.
The number still didnât feel real.
But it was.
And somewhere down there, in a world that had moved forward without her, she would eventually have to find a place for herself again.
Time began to move differently after that.
It no longer felt like something steady and predictable, marked clearly by scheduled check-ins and routine tasks. Instead, it stretched and folded in ways Y/N couldnât quite keep track of, slipping past her in long, quiet hours that blurred together. Without consistent communication from the ground, there were no clear markers to divide one day from the next beyond the slow rhythm of the spacecraftâs orbit and the steady ticking of the onboard clock, which no longer felt reliable.
She tried to maintain structure anyway.
It was the only thing that kept everything from feeling like it was drifting completely out of control.
Each cycle, she moved through the same tasks she had performed at the start of the mission. System checks. Data logs. Equipment maintenance. She spoke her reports out loud even when there was no one on the other end to hear them, her voice echoing faintly inside the helmet before dissolving into the quiet of the cabin. It helped, in a way. It made the space feel less empty, less detached.
But it didnât change the fact that she was alone.
The Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network checked in with her periodically, though not as often as she would have liked. Sometimes the gap between transmissions felt too long, stretching into hours that made her wonder if something had gone wrong again. Every time the signal returned, she felt a brief sense of relief, followed immediately by the same unanswered questions that had been lingering since the first contact.
They were still working on her return.
They were still coordinating.
They still didnât have a timeline.
The answers never changed.
Y/N adapted the best she could. She learned to fill the silence in ways that didnât rely on external input, moving through the spacecraft with a familiarity that had deepened over time. Every panel, every switch, every narrow passage between sections of the cabin became second nature. She knew exactly how much force to use when pushing off a wall, exactly how to angle her body to move efficiently through the confined space without drifting too far.
It became routine.
Comforting, in a strange way.
Still, there were moments when the quiet pressed in too hard, when the absence of voices felt impossible to ignore. During those times, she found herself drifting toward the observation window more often, watching the Earth below as it turned slowly beneath her. It was the closest thing she had to connection, even if it was distant.
The world looked different now.
Not physically, at least not in ways she could see clearly from orbit, but there was a shift she couldnât ignore. She knew that somewhere beneath those clouds, entire cities had changed. People had lived entire lives in the time she had been gone. Technologies had advanced. Cultures had shifted. Everything had continued moving forward without her, creating a version of the world she didnât recognize.
It made the distance feel even greater.
Eventually, the updates from the ground began to change.
It happened gradually at first, subtle shifts in the tone of the conversations that suggested progress was being made. The man she had been speaking toâwhose name she eventually learned was Danielâbegan to ask more specific questions about the spacecraftâs re-entry capabilities. The discussions became more detailed, more focused on logistics rather than uncertainty.
It was the first real sign that something was moving forward.
During one of the transmissions, his voice carried a slight edge of something new.
âWeâve established a preliminary re-entry plan.â
Y/N straightened immediately, her attention sharpening as she reached for the console.
âDefine preliminary.â
âWeâre coordinating with multiple agencies to create a safe landing zone.â
âWhere?â
âStill being finalized.â
Y/N exhaled slowly, the familiar frustration flickering beneath the surface again.
âYou said preliminary.â
âIt is. We have viable options.â
âThatâs not the same thing as a plan.â
There was a brief pause on the other end before Daniel responded, his tone steady.
âItâs progress.â
Y/N didnât argue with that.
It was.
Even if it didnât feel like enough yet.
The conversations continued like that over the next several cycles, each one adding small pieces to a larger picture that was slowly beginning to form. The re-entry process would need to be adjusted to account for the loss of Averniaâs infrastructure. New coordinates would need to be programmed into the system. External guidance would be provided during descent to compensate for the missing support network that had originally been designed to assist her.
It was complicated.
But it was possible.
That was what mattered.
Y/N spent hours reviewing the updated procedures, committing every detail to memory as she prepared for something she hadnât been sure would ever happen. The idea of returning to Earth felt both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. She had trained for it, expected it, planned for it from the very beginning.
But not like this.
Not in a world that had changed so completely without her.
The day the final confirmation came felt different from the moment it started. Y/N noticed it immediately, even before the transmission reached her. There was a tension in the air, a subtle shift in her own awareness that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
When the signal finally came through, she was already at the console.
âAsteria-1, this is Pacific Orbital Monitoring. Do you copy?â
âI copy.â
There was a brief pause before Danielâs voice followed.
âWeâre ready to proceed with re-entry.â
The words settled into the space between them, carrying more weight than anything he had said before.
Y/Nâs grip tightened slightly on the controls.
âConfirm.â
âRe-entry window is set. Coordinates have been uploaded to your navigation system.â
She glanced at the display, watching as new data populated the screen.
âLanding zone?â
âPacific Ocean recovery.â
Y/N blinked.
âOcean?â
âItâs the safest option given the circumstances.â
She processed that quickly, adjusting her expectations without hesitation. It wasnât what she had originally trained for, but it made sense. Without a prepared landing facility, a controlled ocean descent offered the most flexibility.
âRecovery team?â
âAlready in position.â
Y/N let out a slow breath, feeling something shift inside her as the reality of the situation settled in.
This was happening.
âTimeline?â
âRe-entry begins in six hours.â
Six hours.
The number felt both too short and too long at the same time.
âUnderstood.â
The line remained open as Daniel began walking her through the updated procedures, his voice steady and precise as he outlined each step she would need to follow. Y/N listened carefully, responding when necessary, her focus locked onto the process in a way that pushed everything else to the edges of her mind.
This was something she knew.
Something she could control.
That mattered.
The next six hours passed in a blur of preparation. Y/N moved through the spacecraft with purpose, securing equipment, double-checking systems, running through each step of the sequence until it felt automatic. Every movement was deliberate, every action grounded in training that now felt more important than ever.
There was no room for hesitation.
No room for doubt.
When the time finally came, she strapped herself into the command seat, securing the harness tightly across her chest as the navigation system guided the spacecraft into position. The Earth filled more of the observation window now, its surface growing closer with each passing second.
Her heartbeat picked up, steady but strong.
Not fear.
Focus.
The communication line crackled softly as Danielâs voice returned.
âAsteria-1, you are clear to begin re-entry sequence.â
Y/Nâs fingers hovered over the controls for a fraction of a second before she responded.
âBeginning re-entry.â
The command sequence initiated immediately, the spacecraft adjusting its trajectory as it prepared to descend through the atmosphere. Outside the window, the darkness of space began to shift, the faint glow of the atmosphere growing brighter as they moved closer.
Everything was happening exactly as it should.
The initial stages passed smoothly, the systems responding to each command with precision. Y/N monitored the readings closely, her attention fixed on the displays as the spacecraft continued its descent.
Then the heat began to build.
The exterior of the craft glowed faintly at first, a soft shimmer of light that quickly intensified as friction increased. The temperature readings climbed steadily, but remained within expected parameters.
Y/N kept her focus steady, her breathing controlled as she followed each step of the sequence.
âAsteria-1, you are on track.â
âI copy.â
The atmosphere pressed harder against the spacecraft as it descended, the forces building in a way that reminded her of launch, but different. Heavier. More sustained. The vibrations increased, rattling through the structure as the craft pushed through layers of air that had once felt impossibly far away.
The glow outside the window brightened, shifting into streaks of light that blurred past too quickly to follow.
Still, everything held.
Everything worked.
Minutes passed.
Thenâ
The vibrations began to ease.
The brightness outside the window faded gradually, replaced by the soft blue of the sky. Clouds came into view, stretching endlessly across the horizon as the spacecraft continued its controlled descent.
Y/Nâs grip on the controls loosened slightly.
They had made it through.
The final stages of the descent moved quickly after that. The parachutes deployed as expected, slowing the spacecraftâs fall as it approached the surface of the ocean below. The water stretched out beneath her, calm and endless, reflecting the sky in a way that felt almost unreal after everything she had experienced.
Then the impact came.
It was strong, but controlled, the spacecraft hitting the water with a force that jolted through the cabin before settling into a steady float. Y/N exhaled sharply, her body relaxing slightly against the harness as the systems stabilized around her.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then Danielâs voice came through the headset again, clearer than it had ever sounded before.
âAsteria-1, welcome back to Earth.â
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, letting the words settle.
Iâm subscribed to that channel. The owner has played multiple other YouTubers to see if the snake just hated Markiplier or was just hostile towards men. Turns out he was fine watching all the other YouTubers he just hated Markiplier specifically ð
Tofu the snake! the owner has been running several various experiments based on people's thoughts/theories in the comments, like showing an edited image of Mark (it took Tofu a few minutes to recognize him, but once they did they immediately started trying to attack him) and even bringing in other snakes to see if they react too (none did). so far the consensus is that Tofu just really fucking hates Markiplier
"I can't tell if OP is doing a wildly bad faith reading of a sentiment I'm familiar with or if there's a corner of this website that is completely insane in a way that I am not personally privy to" is such a classic tumblr feeling isn't it. Like it really could be anything
you always loved walking into the bakery in the mornings.Â
even though itâs been hours since you were last here, the sweet scent of pastries and baked goods still lingers in the air like a wake-up call. when you turn the lights on in the back kitchen, youâre met with your work station that youâve become acquainted with for almost half your life, and maybe the rest of it if youâre lucky.
itâs clockwork every day. you arrive at the bakery at 4:30 AM, make yourself a coffee at the barista station, and start working on the menu your father left you the night before. itâs the same routine, but you love it, you donât want it to be any other way.Â
by the time lia comes at 5:30 AM to help with the remaining pastries that need to be made, youâre already putting out a variety of cookies in different flavors, muffins to go with the patronsâ coffees, and of course, the treat of the day that your father lets you pick every single morning.Â
today, itâs a cinnamon coffee cake with a bit of brown sugar crumbled on top.Â
youâre washing the bowls you used earlier in the sink when lia comes into the kitchen, tying her apron. she yawns loudly and looks at you with bags underneath her eyes. âyou seem to be in a good mood this morning.â you glance over your shoulder as you rinse down the bowls, a slight smile on your lips at the sound of liaâs voice.
you look back at the bowls and reach over to turn off the water. âiâm always in a good mood, i donât know what youâre talking about,â you reply, setting the bowl down onto the dish rack to dry before spinning around to finally face lia.Â
âyesterday morning was not like that at all,â she quips in a teasing tone. you scoff and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring her words. instead, you point at one of the counters behind lia, wanting to get back to work before the store opens at 7:00 AM.Â
âi put out the two bread doughs for you over there. need me to get you the flour?â lia stares at you for a moment before shaking her head, turning around to walk over to the counter that held the bowls of dough she would need to work on for the day.Â
she uncovers them before replying, âiâve got it. go take a break for a bit.â youâre about to respond, but lia quickly looks over her shoulder at you with narrowed eyes. âi mean it. go outside and take your stupid breather.â when she turns her head away, you roll your eyes and make your way out the back door.Â
the air is a bit chilly, but you welcome it. when all the ovens inside are on, it can become unbearably hot, and there are days, especially in the summer, when you consider fixing that damn fan that broke two years ago. but it also ends up being winter again, and you forget about it until the following summer.Â
as you take out your cigarettes and lighter from your pocket, liaâs words from earlier start to resurface in your mind. there was a reason for your sour mood the morning before, but you arenât ready to have that conversation.
when you try to light your cigarette, your hands begin to tremble slightly, and that familiar pain youâve been having for months now shoots up and down your arms, causing you to drop them onto the pavement.
you mumble a curse under your breath as you grip your wrist, willing the feeling to go away. the nerves in your body feel like fireworks going off with every little movement you make, and for a moment, you think youâre going to pass out.Â
but it passes. it always does.Â
you take a shaky breath as you kneel to grab your lighter, forgetting the cigarette that now lies wet on the ground. your hands still shake for other reasons you donât want to admit out loud. the doctor told you to quit smoking; itâll just make everything worse, but youâve never been the best at keeping your word.Â
youâve proven to yourself that youâre not the best at being alive, so maybe death can be a consolation prize.
âyour momâs facebook posts always make it seem like youâre dying,â lia points out to you after the morning rush. the comment makes you laugh loudly, prompting a pause to knead the dough youâve been working on. she brings her phone closer to your face for you to see the post in question. âiâm serious! look at this!âÂ
you lean forward, squinting at her screen. it was a photo of you from your most recent doctorâs appointment, and the image made your stomach churn.
you sat on the treatment table, caught getting mid-poked by the nurse to draw your blood, unaware that your mother was taking a photo. the caption made you scoff, not even wasting your time to read the entire thing before turning your head back to your task. they were just updates on your condition, the latest information the doctor has shared with you.Â
a chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe your hands against your apron. âthe âkeep fightingâ at the end is so crazyâŠâÂ
lia leans against the table and continues to stare at the facebook post, scrolling through the comments. âeveryone else under it thinks the same thing as me, too.âÂ
âlet them think Iâm dying then,â you deadpan, waving her off.Â
lia swats at your shoulder and glares, obviously not happy with your words. âyou are not dying. i just wish youâd stop smokingâŠâ she crosses her arms, and for a moment, you narrow your eyes at being chastised once more about your bad habits.Â
âi willâŠâ you sigh, walking away from the work table. liaâs eyes stay on you as you check the timer on the oven for one of the breads youâre currently baking.
thereâs a look of disapproval on her face, and you canât help but groan, leaning against one of the counters. your hands grip the edge of the countertop, and you tilt your head back slightly, closing your eyes as you respond, âlia, i will stop smoking eventually.âÂ
âwhy not now?â she asks you, her tone challenging yet teasing at the same time. you rub your temple with your hand in irritation, and as you open your eyes again, the fluorescent light above you blurs your vision slightly. a sharp pain runs up your neck, and you can feel it reach your head. your eyes close tightly again, and you bow your head, hoping the feeling will pass.Â
you pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping the scene in front of lia could be passed off as a headache, in this weather, perhaps sinus issues. âmaybe when the holidays are over⊠itâs so stressful right now.âÂ
youâre about to add on more to your statement, but suddenly, the timer goes off, and you wince at the sound. you stumble away from the oven and hunch over one of the other work tables, clutching its sides to ground yourself while the pain persists. lia runs over to the oven, turns off the timer, and then cautiously walks over to you to place a hand on your back.Â
but you shake your head, pushing yourself away from the table. you walk away from lia to take a break outside. she watches you worriedly, probably disappointed in your choices, but you couldnât bring yourself to care.Â
itâs the holidays, you try to justify again.
across the country, daniela just got off the phone with her mother. she sits on her bed, staring at the phone in her hands, unsure of how to react to the news she's just received. a quiet knock against her door causes the latina to look up, quickly wiping away the tears that were forming in her eyes. manon notices, though, and frowns, making her way inside the room to see whatâs going on. she walks over to danielaâs bed and sits across from her, placing a comforting hand on her knee. manon tilts her head and whispers, âdani? whatâs wrong?â
her bottom lip trembles as she looks at the ghanaian girl. tears start to spring to her eyes once more as she takes a deep breath, whispering, âmy ex is⊠dying, i guess.â
the moment you get home, you make a beeline toward your fatherâs office, feeling a slight agitation with your mother after discovering the post she made on social media.
since lia showed it to you, it seems many people from your past have taken it as an opportunity to reach out and offer their condolences. peers from your high school that you havenât spoken to since then have randomly sent you red emoji hearts to your instagram dms, telling you how strong you are for fighting this long.Â
you bust through the door, your arms crossed over your chest as you look at your father, who doesnât seem fazed by your sudden intrusion. âcan you tell mom to stop making it seem like i have cancer or something?âÂ
he glances at you, raising an eyebrow at your tone. âyou know i canât control what she does online.âÂ
you stare at your father, trying your hardest not to narrow your eyes at him. you know it isnât his fault, and you know heâs rightâ your mother always had a habit of oversharing, especially on facebook for all her old college friends and distant relatives to see.
itâs a habit you often found yourself fighting with your mother over, pleading with her to get off the stupid app. but as usual, she never listens, and you are left to deal with the aftermath.Â
suddenly, a sharp pain shoots up your neck, and you immediately look away from him, shaking your head to rid yourself of the tight feeling in your shoulders.
you release a sharp breath and purse your lips, your nostrils flaring as the discomfort intensifies. your eyes close, and you hear your father get up from his chair, but you stumble back, not wanting to disrupt his peace right before he goes back to the bakery.Â
ây/n, sit downâŠâ the distress in his voice makes your head spin. thereâs a pit in your stomach and a loud ringing in your ears that causes your head to ache intensely. your father attempts to place his hands on your shoulders, but you push him away, shaking your head with tears in your eyes.Â
âitâs fine, dad⊠i just⊠i need to go to my room.â before he could reply, you were already walking out of his office.
you quickly make your way inside your room, shutting the door. you lean back against the door with a loud thud, sliding down against it until youâre sitting on your bedroom floor. you pull your knees up to your chest and close your eyes, silently letting your tears fall, waiting for the pain to go away.
you never liked being the center of attention.Â
itâs something that always brought you discomfort, and it didnât help that your mother treated you like some sort of treasure. she doesnât do it with ill intentionsâ you know that; however, there are days when you despise being her only child.
she had nothing else to ever talk about, and if you were being completely honest, itâs not like you had any award-winning achievements.Â
high school was like a battleground, and you were just trying to make it toward the end of the day, the ringing of the bell at 3:00 PM sharp, followed by the announcements as an overnight truce. you managed to lie low and stay out of everybodyâs way, even avoiding close friendships and especially relationships.Â
but with your diagnosis, it came out of the blue, like faulty wiring that was missed for years and passed off as regular stress any other high school student would experience. it was a series of headaches, a tense feeling in your shoulders that a night's sleep couldnât get rid of.
the blurriness in your vision paired with the pain in your head always came and went, but then came the weak feelings in your arms. you remember the first time it happenedâ it was at the bakery. You were kneading the dough like usual, like you always had.Â
and then, you were frozen. it was as if your brain short-circuited and forgot how to be a human. you stood there unmoving, but you felt everything.Â
the pain was unbearable, to the point where you became lightheaded. everything became blurry, and the dough started to look fake. you closed your eyes and didnât open them again until much later, in a hospital room with your parents hovering over you with tears in their eyes.
that was a year ago, and now youâre 21, taking medication to ease your symptoms and to continue living the life you envisioned in your head.
but you arenât quite sure if spending the rest of your days at the bakery is really what you want.
when you were 17, it was your dreamâ a dream you often had that always included a curly-haired brunette with the prettiest hazel eyes youâve ever seen.Â
she would walk through the door of the bakery, the chime from the bell at the top of the door signaling her presence. you would be in the middle of putting out the fresh pastries for the day, and youâd look up to see her already giving you a dimpled smile. in that dream, you always smiled back because she was finally home.Â
but, youâre 21 now, and youâve stopped looking at the door.Â
after the horrid week you had, youâre glad itâs finally the weekend.Â
usually around the holidays, the bakery stays open longer than usual, making sure everyone gets their peppermint hot cocoa and gingerbread-flavored treat. itâs the busiest the bakery ever gets, but your father still likes to keep it closed on sundays. not for any religious reasons, but solely to give you and himself a break every once in a while.Â
the bakery being closed doesnât mean there isnât any work to do, though. you still come in at 4:30 AM to prepare for the next day's tasks.Â
going to the bakery makes you feel normal. itâs a few hours where you can ignore the looming hospital visits, the pain in the side of your neck, because maybe itâs just the fact that youâve had your head nose deep in dough for the last three hours.
you can control the pastry menu and the amount of sugar to put in your coffee, but you canât control what the doctors tell you every week.Â
your phone plays music loudly as you hum along, balancing two trays of rolled-out cookie dough in your hands. each task you complete is ticked off as the hours fly by. by 10 AM, you decide to start the bread dough, having already completed most of tomorrow's prep.
as you lock the mixing bowl in place underneath the mixer, you hear a gentle knock on the back door. at first, you believe the sound was in your imagination, but it comes again, louder and much firmer.Â
you check your watch in confusion. your father doesnât come in until 12 PM on sundays, and itâs liaâs day off. you walk cautiously toward the door, staring at it as if it would open by itself. when you open the door, you take a deep breath, preparing for the visitor.Â
what you see in front of you causes your breath to hitch. itâs daniela avanzini in all her glory.
she approached you during study hall on a random wednesday morning.Â
it was your junior year, and for a moment, you werenât sure if the cheer captain got the wrong person. but then she said your name as if she had been studying it the night before to make sure it rolled off her tongue with ease. she spoke to you as if she had been practicing the courage to do so, because in all the years youâve seen the latina, you never saw her be so shy.Â
all she wanted to know was what you thought of the book you were reading at the time.Â
âi saw you reading it in study hall last weekâŠâ she said with a dimpled smile. as she spoke, she played with the strap of her bookbag, her head tilted at you. you looked down at the book, then back at daniela with a slight smile.Â
âitâs good⊠it has a slow start, but it picks up pretty quickly after a couple of chaptersâŠâ she nods at your words, an awkward silence falling between you two. daniela looked down at her feet, and it was clear she was trying to find something else to say. youâre unsure why she wanted to waste her time in a conversation with you, but you canât help but want the same thing. Â
you mark your page with a post-it note, closing it before looking at daniela with a sincere look in your eyes. âiâm almost done with it, do you wanna borrow it when Iâm done?â she looked back up at you with a gleam in her eyes. daniela nodded eagerly, her smile growing wider.Â
âfor real? youâll let me?â she asked excitedly. you noted how she looked like a child who'd finally been given permission to do something sheâd longed to do.Â
you nodded, extending your hand out to her. âiâm y/n.âÂ
daniela took your hand, but she didnât shake itâ she simply held it in her own. âi know. youâre in third period with me.âÂ
âyou noticed that?â you chuckled, not realizing you hadnât let go of her hand. she giggles and rolls her eyes as if the question you asked was ridiculous.Â
she looked down at your hands and smiled softly, her hold on your hand tightening. âduh. iâve noticed you in my classes since freshman year. i always wanted to be your friend.âÂ
âis that so?â you tilted your head with an amused look in your eyes when you saw the pink tint in her cheeks. daniela nods, her eyes still trained on your connected hands.Â
âyeah. i consider this a win.â she looked back at you with a hopeful look in her eyes.Â
you smiledâ a genuine smile. âthis is a win for sure.âÂ
your first reaction is to slam the door in her face; however, daniela quickly places her hand against the door, using all her strength to keep it open. she glares at you, a slight pout on her features. âhello to you, too, i guess.â you scoff at her words, attempting to close the door once more, but she doesnât budge, causing you to groan loudly.Â
âthe bakery is closed on sundays,â you tell her with a bite in your tone. she doesnât listen, though, pushing past you to step inside the kitchen. you can feel a headache coming on, but you know this time it isnât due to your illness â it is very much due to the unwelcome company now inside the building.Â
daniela looks around the kitchen, strolling around the counters. you canât help but squint at her in annoyance. âwhy are you here right now?âÂ
the latina doesnât glance in your direction as she replies, her fingers tracing the cool surface of the countertop. âjust wanted to visit.âÂ
âitâs been like, what? three years since youâve been here?â bitterness drips from your tone. you cross your arms, keeping your distance from daniela.Â
she stops in front of the mixer and looks up at you with a raised brow. âthat isnât my fault, you know?âÂ
you stare at her in silence, feeling a bit at a loss for words. you open your mouth to say something, but you start to feel the familiar burning in your arm.
it travels up to your shoulders and stops at your neck, causing you to tilt your head slightly to alleviate the pain. you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to mask the discomfort you feel all over your body.Â
daniela watches you closely. after all these years, she still knows when youâre putting on an act. âmy mom said you were sick.âÂ
her words cause you to open your eyes. you look at her before letting out a snort, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shake your head. âno fucking wayâŠâÂ
she frowns, a concerned look in her eyes. âis it true?â you give her an incredulous look, extending your arms out and shrugging as you give yourself a once-over.
âdo i look sick to you, daniela?â a chuckle escapes your lips as you let your arms fall back to your sides. you roll your eyes, walking toward the latina, motioning for her to walk away from your station. ânow that you got your answer, can you leave? iâve got shit to do.â daniela crosses her arms, staying where she is, and it causes you to step up to her with a cold glare in your eyes. âmove. daniela.â
she takes on your challenge, stepping closer to you as well. the latina looks up at you with pursed lips as she says, âmy mom said that you might be dying, y/n.âÂ
âso, what if i am?â you reply, tilting your head with a tight-lipped smile. the smile falls as you roll your eyes again, pushing her back with your shoulder. you set the mixer to its highest setting, hoping it would be able to drown out your exâs voice.Â
but she continues to press despite your unwelcoming attitude, âso? i was fucking worried, and youâre acting like an asshole right now.âÂ
âyou decided to show up unannounced at my job. iâm sorry, iâm not giving you southern hospitality at its finest!â you snap at her, aggressively adding sugar to the mixing bowl.
the sharp pain in your neck grows harder to ignore, just like the latinaâs stare. her eyes follow your every movement, watching you add more ingredients, her gaze burning holes into your skull as you walk to the dish rack to grab a new baking sheet. with the pain starting to make your head spin and the latinaâs presence, you feel as though youâve hit your breaking point.Â
âoh my god! enough!â You slam the baking sheet down onto the counter before turning around to face daniela. she stands there, her eyes wide at your sudden outburst. you point at her with a sharp look in your eyes. âwhy do you even care, daniela? itâs been years since we last talked!â she narrows her eyes in response to your words, stepping closer to you.Â
âof course i care! god forbid i still care about someone i was in love with!â she exclaims, throwing her hands up wildly. a scoff escapes your lips as you turn back around, ignoring the pang in your chest at how she used the past tense in regards to her feelings toward you.
you grab the baking sheet once again, reaching for the parchment paper, and avoiding the way she glares at you as you attempt to continue the task you were doing before she decided to grace you with her presence.Â
her words are tuned out as you spread the parchment paper along the metal pan and turn the mixer off. âwhat else was i supposed to do when my mom told me the news?!â you donât respond; instead, you begin rolling the cookie dough in your hands, shaping it into balls to place on the baking sheet.
she continues, her tone much more aggravated than before, âiâm supposed to just ignore the person i saw an entire life with after hearing they might fucking die?!âÂ
it all continues to fall on deaf ears, pretending daniela isnât in the kitchen with you and that itâs just another sunday to prep for the next morning. suddenly, she turns away from you and walks toward the sink.
you glance up from your task to see that sheâs washing her hands. once she dries them, she grabs a pair of gloves and walks back to your station. your eyes widen when you realize sheâs about to help you with the dough, causing you to grab her wrist.
âoh, absolutely not!â your glare hardens as you try to push her away again, but the moment you move your head too fast, it feels as though it has split open.
you stumble away from daniela, letting go of her wrist to grip your head tightly. your other hand finds the countertop as you try to keep yourself from falling over. a loud groan escapes your lips as you close your eyes, forcing the tears that start to form from streaming down your face. danielaâs hand finds your shoulder, but you jump away from her touch as if she had burned you.
you shake your head furiously, raising your head to look at daniela with a distressed look in your eyes. âplease, daniela. just go away.âÂ
âiâm not leaving you like this,â she tells you firmly. she keeps her distance, not wanting to overwhelm you further, but it still feels like it's too much to bear.
you slam your palm against the countertop, the baking utensils on it clatter, and one of the bowls falls to the ground with a loud crash. daniela doesnât flinch, just watching you intently despite your several warnings.Â
âi donât want you here!â you bang your fist against the countertop again, your anger almost becoming blinding.Â
daniela steps away from you and takes a sharp breath, her eyes never leaving you. âiâll be back tomorrow, whether you like it or not.âÂ
âwhat the fuck is wrong with you?â you ask through gritted teeth, your hand finding the edge of the countertop to grip it tightly. daniela just shrugs and turns around to walk toward the exit.
before she leaves, she speaks quietly over her shoulder, âi donât know what your problem is, but iâm not gonna let you push me away again. iâm here now, so donât think another shitty text telling me itâs over is gonna work this time.â with that, she finally leaves, slamming the door behind her.Â
you look at the door, and the pain finally starts to subside slightly. your breaths are ragged as your eyes narrow, feeling something familiar start to fester in the pit of your stomach.
without thinking of the consequences, you angrily push the baking trays off the table. you rip your apron off your body and throw it onto the countertop before running out the back door to âtake a breather.â
that next morning, you make your way down to the bakery through the cold, shivering whenever the breeze decides to pick up every so often. itâs a dreary morning in atlanta, the sprinkling from the sky making it much more unbearable.
as you tug your jacket tighter around you, you canât help but notice how much of a ghost town the city looks during days like this. the usual bright and alive energy downtown brings always hibernates in the wintertime and is replaced with attempts to fill everyone with holiday cheer.Â
no cheer in your mood, however. itâs fucking cold. and thereâs a 50% chance that your ex would be pestering you today.Â
your aggravation grows as you continue your walk, already slipping one of your hands into your pantsâ pocket to grab your cigarettes. having one before walking in wouldnât hurt, you think. but as you get closer, you notice someone standing in front of the building.
they wear a jacket so oversized that it swallows them, and the hood on their head hides their identity. you stop in your tracks, already knowing who it is without needing to see their face. as she turns around, you immediately consider leaving and calling in sick for the day.Â
but daniela has always been so stubborn. if you were to turn around, it wouldnât be without a fight.Â
you roll your eyes, opening your box of cigarettes to pull one out. âi told you to leave me alone, daniela.â you place the stick in between your teeth before pulling out your lighter. the Latina grimaces as you light the cigarette in front of her, making a point to puff a cloud of smoke in front of her.Â
she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you. âand i told you that iâd come back.â her response makes you chuckle dryly.Â
you take another hit, exhaling the smoke out of your lungs as you reply, âdonât you have like, pop-star shit to do right about now?âÂ
âthey know iâm taking a break for a while,â she points out, still glaring at you. you know youâve struck a nerve within her somehow, but it doesnât bother you in the slightest, continuing to smoke your cigarette until it reaches its end. you exhale again slowly, your eyes on her as if challenging her to do something about it.Â
daniela doesnât give you a chance to react before she pulls the cigarette out from your lips, dropping it to the ground, and then stomping it out. your eyes are wide in surprise, flickering between the cigarette and her.
youâre about to ask her what her problem is, but she turns around, making her way toward the back door like she already knows the routine. and maybe she does, but youâre already too annoyed to dwell on the thought further.Â
âopen the door before i fucking freeze to death out here!â she commands, staring you down as if you were the crazy one in this situation.Â
you walk up to the door and dig in your jacket pocket for the key. âi donât have to let you inside, you know? i can just send you back home,â you spat as the door opened. she stands there for a moment, her eyebrow raised at you. she wants you to say it to her face, to tell her to go away, and to never come back.Â
but you step aside, allowing her to be the first one to go in. you donât miss the way her lips curl into a smile as she walks past you to go into the building, and you ignore the way your heart beats with familiarity when you get a whiff of her perfume. itâs the same one she always wore in high schoolâ vanilla and some sort of floral combination. the bottle was expensive, you remember that.Â
you know that because for your six-month anniversary, you bought her that same bottle. it took extra shifts at the bakery, and you had to mow a couple of lawns, but it was worth it when you saw how her eyes lit up.
itâs the same perfume sheâs had since middle school, but when you gifted it to her, it became special. it became everything to her.Â
ây/n! close the fucking door! itâs getting cold again,â daniela yells, successfully snapping you back to reality. you turn your head toward the latina and realize she has already turned the lights on in the back kitchen. the door slowly closes behind you as you walk inside, your heart still loud in your chest as you come down from the memory.Â
you watch as she walks to the bin beside the sink, grabbing an apron for you and herself. the way she remembers the kitchen like the back of her hand still melts the annoyance you had earlier away. she throws the apron in your direction, and you catch it wordlessly, turning around to hide the flush in your cheeks.Â
as you tighten the apron around you, daniela begins to walk around the kitchen, as if looking for something. you accept her presence, looking down at your feet as you speak up, âhe keeps the list in the walk-in nowâŠâ she stops in her tracks and looks at you in surprise. you sigh, tilting your head toward your fatherâs office. âhe doesnât keep it in the office anymore⊠i donât know why, donât ask.âÂ
for the first time since seeing each other again, she smiles at you. a genuine smile that shows off the dimples in her cheeks. you look away, shaking your head as you begin to grab the equipment you will need for the morning. âweâre already off schedule. come on.â \
at some point, lia finally comes into the bakery, but by the time sheâs there, daniela has helped you complete most of the prep that needed to be done before the first morning rush.Â
lia stands there in awe next to you as she watches daniela pull out the last batch of cookies that needed to be made out of the oven. the korean girl leans closer to you and whispers, âthe daniela avanzini of katseye is doing my jobâŠâ you roll your eyes at lia, turning the mixer's speed to a higher setting to tune out the fangirlâs words. the whirring from the machine becomes louder, but so does lia as she whispers again, âlike, sheâs good at it.âÂ
âshe used to help out every once in a while,â you reveal, turning off the mixer once youâre satisfied with how the dough looks.
lia widens her eyes and shoves you. âare you serious? what else have you been hiding from me?â she asks in exasperation. you ignore lia and take the bowl away from the mixer to cover it with plastic wrap. but she doesnât let the subject go, only digging further into the conversation, âlike, what do you mean she helped out?âÂ
âi just liked hanging out with y/n at the bakery,â daniela suddenly adds, inserting herself into the conversation. she glances at you for a brief moment before looking back at lia with a slight smile. âthey taught me everything i know.â with the number of times youâve rolled your eyes today, youâre surprised they havenât fallen out of your head. you grab the mixing bowl, walking past the two girls to place it inside the walk-in freezer.Â
lia follows you inside against your protests. she leans against the freezer door with her arms crossed, looking at you with a furrowed brow. âso, whatâs the backstory?âÂ
you place the mixing bowl on the shelf and shake your head. âno backstory.âÂ
lia sighs and tilts her head, still blocking the door for you to exit. âso, sheâs lying?âÂ
âi didnât say that,â you groan, running a hand through your hair. your eyes dart around the freezer, feeling trapped by the older girlâs questions. âitâs just⊠the backstory is irrelevant.âÂ
âirrelevant? i thought it was hot back there because of all the ovens that were on, but itâs actually all that,â lia waves her hands around animatedly, trying to emphasize her point, âtension that is making it hard to breathe in there.âÂ
you press your finger to your lips, shushing the older girl. through gritted teeth, you whisper, âthere is no tension.â lia smirks at you, raising an eyebrow at your defensive attitude.Â
she steps away from the freezer door and gestures toward it. âthereâs a backstory, and Iâm gonna figure it out! especially if sheâs gonna be around a lot moreâŠâ you murmur a âwhateverâ under your breath as you brush past lia, exiting the walk-in.
you take a deep breath, looking over to one of the stations to see daniela diligently working on the next part of the to-do list. she looks up, and you feel your breath hitch when your eyes meet.Â
âwhatâs the treat of the day?â the latina asks, looking back down to continue kneading the dough. your mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and you berate yourself for becoming so speechless over daniela avanzini. itâs an effect she always had on you, and it seems evident that itâs still true to this day. you shake your head, walking quickly to the other side of the kitchen to keep your distance from the girl.Â
âpeppermint chocolate poptarts,â you tell her, grabbing the ingredients needed for the treat.Â
she smiles as she sprinkles flour over the dough. âyum, i remember liking those.âÂ
your response tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. lia steps back inside the kitchen to hear it, and she canât help the grin that spreads across her face at your words. âit was your momâs favorite. you can save her one, if you want.â
when you get home later that day, you attempt to walk past your fatherâs office and straight to your room, wanting to avoid any other mentions of your ex. but of course, as soon as your hand touches the handle, he comes out into the hallway. ây/n!â a sigh escapes your lips as you slowly turn to face your father. âdani-girl came to help at the bakery today?â he asks with a broad smile that exudes excitement, the nickname leaving his lips as if it were a habit.Â
you hold back a groan as you reply, âyeah⊠she insisted.â he nods at your words, still smiling as he looks down at his phone.Â
he straightens his glasses on his face, squinting down at the screen. âher mom texted me earlier to tell me dani was there with you!â your father looks up from his phone and sends you a warm smile, continuing, âhow was it? just like old times?â you lean against your bedroom door and attempt to put on a smile, not wanting to disappoint your father. he always held a soft spot for daniela and often asked if you ever reached out to her after her debut in katseye.Â
and every time, your response was the same. âshe has better things to do, dad. sheâs just gonna leave me on read.âÂ
you shrug at him, still saving face. âyeah, it was definitely kinda weird.â he laughs at your words, taking a step toward you to pat you on the shoulder. he keeps his hand there, squeezing it gently.Â
his expression softens as he replies, âmaybe iâll try to catch you guys sometime at the bakery while sheâs here. itâs always nice seeing dani-girl.â he pats you on the shoulder again before walking away to go back into his office.
you wait for him to shut the door so you can allow the smile on your face to fall. before going into your own room, you feel your phone buzz against your thigh. you reach into your pocket to grab it, and immediately, youâre met with a message from daniela.Â
you hesitate, your thumb ghosting over her name. your fatherâs words linger in your mind as you decide to tap on the notification, leading you to the text thread between you and the latina. your stomach drops when you notice the messages previous to the new one you received.
theyâre all from danielaâ her checking in on you, her sending you birthday messages; if you scrolled back far enough, youâd find the last message you ever sent her, officially ending the relationship you two had.Â
a shaky breath escapes your lips as you read the new message from her. iâm coming to the bakery tomorrow at 5 AM.Â
you type your reply slowly, your fingers shaking slightly. yeah. thatâs cool. see ya.
the next day goes the same, and then the one after that. now, it has been a week since having daniela at the bakery, and not much has changed with your attitude toward her. although not as snarky as you were before, you are not any kinder. it doesnât deter the latina, though; if anything, it only fuels her desire to continue being in your space.
you want to say itâs annoyingâ frustrating, even. but you have to give the girl some credit for her continued willingness to work beside you every morning. if she had hurt you the way you hurt her, you wouldâve done everything in your power to erase any trace of the girl.Â
a part of you reasons thatâs why you let her inside the bakery every morning. perhaps you were trying to atone for your actions.Â
but then, you remember how you even got put into this situation with daniela, and the urge to throw her back outside comes back stronger than before.Â
âdid you ever learn how to make a cherry pie?â you freeze at her words. youâre in the middle of cutting the bread into loaves when she asks the question, and you canât tell if your heart stopped because of what she said or itâs because of your condition. either way, you slowly place the bread knife onto the counter before taking a glance at the latina. sheâs already looking at you, a genuine curiosity in her eyes.Â
you open and close your mouth, unsure of how to respond. something sharp shoots up your neck, and you look back down at the counter, wanting to hide the discomfort from the latina.
âno, i never got to it.â you finally reply, quietly. daniela nods and looks away, taking the way you avoid her eyes as a sign to stop pestering you with the past.
âpies are so hard to make.â
âwhy?â
âmy dad never taught me. he hates making the crust.â
âthatâs the best part of pie!â
âhe says there are too many ways to do it.âÂ
âwhy not learn the easier way then?â
âwe donât sell pie at the bakery, so i guess it doesnât really matter.âÂ
âi really like apple pie.â
âreally?â
âyeah⊠al a mode.â
âyouâre speaking my language.â
â...â
âshould i learn?â
âwill you make me an apple pie?â
"what do you think?â
âapple pie on demand sounds nice.âÂ
âthatâs a lot of ingredients to use.âÂ
âi think iâd be worth it though.âÂ
âi think so too.âÂ
â...â
âmake a cherry pie.â
âwhy?â
âi donât know, iâm craving cherries right now.â
âwill you learn with me?â
âwe have to do it the easiest way, though.â
âno, full send, graham cracker crust, and we pick the cherries fresh.âÂ
âyouâre on your own then, y/n.âÂ
âgod, youâre no fun.â
â...â
âwill you?â
âof course, dumbass. iâd do anything if it meant with you.â
âdani,â you call out to her suddenly. she closes the oven before turning toward you, a surprised look in her eyes. the nickname rolled off your tongue without you even noticing. daniela stares at you, and for the first time since her arrival back in your hometown, you stare back with no hostility in your eyes.Â
for one day, maybe you want to stop fighting, call a truce to a war thatâs been one-sided this entire time. the unanswered texts from your end, the letters you threw away upon receiving them. the sender stands in front of you despite your actions. for years, you were angry at her for leaving you behind.Â
but, itâs not her who left, is it?Â
âwill you learn how to make one with me?â she furrows her brows at you at first, but her eyes soften in realization. a slight smile spreads across her lips, and for a brief moment, you join her.Â
your father looks down at the cherry pie in your hands when he arrives at the bakery later that afternoon. itâs the ugliest (and probably the most disgusting) thing you've ever made, but when he looks at you and daniela, standing side by side for the first time since she left for los angeles, you can tell itâs his favorite creation of yours.Â
he looks at you and points at the pie, an amused smile on his lips. âhow many tries did this take?âÂ
âfive times,â daniela chimes in, a bit sheepish. you shrug your shoulders and shove the pie into his hands with a grin your father hasnât seen in years.Â
âand we used all the flour,â you add carelessly. daniela laughs beside you, and it reminds you of when you were seventeen, and you were convinced youâd marry her.Â
your father was convinced, too. so was your mother, and even danielaâs parents were convinced.Â
what stopped you? no one is sure. and when you look at daniela, her dimples deep in her cheeks, her bright, toothy smileâ you start to realize that maybe, you werenât too sure either.Â
the latina tilts her head, squinting at you with curiosity. sheâs probably wondering what was going through your head.Â
an apology is at the tip of your tongue. it wants to fall from your lips with little dignity you had left. but you simply smile back at her, bumping her shoulder with yours playfully. she giggles, and it brings you back to a time when she was yours, and you were someone to be proud of.Â
your heart aches, but it isnât your illness. itâs the what-ifs that come back to haunt you. they tear you apart, piece by piece. amongst all those pieces, though, one still belongs to the girl in front of you. and as your father stands before you both, you know heâs thinking the same.Â
âhowâs the pain been lately?â your doctor asks during the appointment. your leg bounces nervously as you reflect on the last few days.Â
âon a scale of 1-10? maybe⊠a five?â the doctor eyes you for a moment before looking back at the computer and typing your response.Â
he lets out a sigh and glances at you. âitâs always a five.â you shrug your shoulders in response, biting your lip. your doctor turns his attention back to the computer and types as he speaks, âhave you cut down on your smoking?âÂ
you look down at your hands, avoiding his eyes when he turns his head toward you once more. you take a sharp breath before you reply, ânot really, no.âÂ
âi have to be honest, y/n. if you havenât cut back, then i canât imagine the pain only being a five.â your mood starts to sour at his words. a slight warmth creeps up your neck as your irritation grows. the white walls of the room are too bright, and it feels as though they stare at you with judgment.Â
you sigh, throwing your head back as you reply, âitâs been an eight most days, sometimes itâs a 9.âÂ
he nods at your words, appreciating your honesty for once. you hear him type at the computer, and you close your eyes, imagining you were anywhere else but here. he speaks again, his tone much more sympathetic, âhave you been taking your meds as instructed?âÂ
you keep your eyes closed as you shake your head. you whisper, âno. ot at all.â from the corner of your eye, a tear falls. it slides against your cheek, and you bite your lip, trying to keep yourself together.Â
your doctor walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. he rubs it gently as he says, âdo you want to get better, y/n?â your head falls, and you close your eyes tighter, feeling your tears wanting to escape. a broken breath leaves your lips as you nod your head frantically, somewhat desperately.Â
âi wanna be good,â you reply, your voice wavering. âi didnât care before, but now i do.â you wipe your eyes furiously, feeling ridiculous for crying in front of your doctor. but he remains with you, his hand still on your shoulder, providing you comfort as you continue to crumble on the treatment table. your tears begin to fall freely onto your lap as you speak again, âwhat if iâm too late?âÂ
the doctor squeezes your shoulder and leans closer to you, whispering, ây/n. youâve still got all the time in the world to get better.âÂ
itâs as if his words are the final blow to your facade because suddenly, you reach towards him, gripping his shoulders as you allow yourself to cry.
you cry loudly, with everything to lose.
a few days pass, and youâve fallen into a comfortable routine with daniela.Â
her inevitable departure terrifies you; it makes you want to run away all over again.Â
these quiet moments at the bakery, though, keep you planted in place. itâs as if you could pretend she never left to begin with, and this is your reality. this entire time, your life was filled with pastries and a brunette girl you couldnât help but fall in love with the moment she spoke to you.Â
as you both work on the treat of the day, gingerbread truffles, daniela looks up at you for a moment, gazing at you from the corner of your eye. you feel her stare, and it causes a heat to creep up your neck slowly, reaching your cheeks in that way it used to when you were together. you try to ignore her, but it becomes difficult when it becomes a distraction.Â
your head turns toward her, and your heart stops when you see a twinkle in her brown hues. she smiles softly at you as if you didnât hurt her that summer you broke things off, as if you didnât leave her with nothing but a message. her smile tells you that she still doesnât quite understand why you did it, but she forgives you anyway. you smile back at her, not understanding why she continues to be kind to you when all you did was push her away.Â
suddenly, you look away, your cheeks burning as you continue to mix the ingredients in the bowl together. youâre confident that itâs okay to set it aside, but youâre afraid that if you stop, then who knows what would happen next. âstop staring at meâŠâ you murmur, sprinkling in another pinch of sugar for good measure.Â
daniela giggles and tears her eyes away from you. she continues mixing the white chocolate as instructed, a smirk on her lips as she notices the effect she is starting to have on you. âyou used to love my eyes on you.â your cheeks burn even more at her words, and you have to scoff to play it off. the latina nudges you teasingly, her smirk remaining. âmaybe you still do.âÂ
âyou wishâŠâ you reply, your voice betraying you when it cracks under the weight of her comment. the latina giggles again and sets aside her bowl, reaching over to grab yours from your hands. you narrow your eyes at her, frowning at the way she took your job from you. she simply shrugs, turning around to take the bowl to the walk-in.Â
she shouts over her shoulder before walking inside, âsomeone has to get these done before we open!â you watch as she disappears into the walk-in, and you try to fight back the smile that wants to form when you realize she said âwe.â you walk away from the counter to go into your fatherâs office. once inside, you grab your water bottle and reach into your pocket for your pill bottle.Â
three tablets as instructed, to help with the pain and to improve neuro functioningâ whatever the hell that means. you take them anyway, taking a sip of water right after. you place your water bottle back onto your fatherâs desk and turn around, jumping back slightly when you see daniela at the doorway.Â
âjesus christ! you fucking scaredââÂ
âmy mom and dad want you to come for dinner tomorrow night, you in?â she says it to you as if you have no other option. the thought of seeing Danielaâs parents again makes your stomach churnâ especially her father, whom you made a promise to that you wouldnât hurt his little girl.
youâre surprised, with everything that occurred, that there hasnât been a bounty on your head. daniela must have noticed the slight distress on your face, because she steps toward you and gently grabs your wrist. âthey want to see you again⊠i promise, they arenât gonna rip your head off, or anything.âÂ
you frown at her, murmuring, âyour dad might murder me.âÂ
she rolls her eyes, tugging at your arm. âheâll be pretty upset. but, i think theyâre both still under the impression that youâre on your deathbed.âÂ
âgood, letâs keep it that way,â you tell her, chuckling slightly. daniela beams at you, her other arm reaching out to grab your other wrist. she bounces up to you with an excited grin on her face, causing you to widen your eyes when you notice how much closer she has gotten to you. when she notices your expression, she immediately lets go, stepping back shyly.Â
âsorry, i got a little⊠crazy there,â she murmurs, looking away briefly. you look at daniela, your heart racing as you remember the day you met her all over again. you always loved the latinaâs usually fiery and confident demeanor, but with you, she was soft, as if safe in your presence, letting down her guard.Â
you wonder whether you're still her safe space.Â
the question lingers in the back of your mind as you run a hand through your hair, clearing your throat. you gesture at the kitchen and chuckle awkwardly. âyeah⊠iâll be there. letâs, you know, get back to work.âÂ
she looks back at you and nods, smiling before turning away to walk out of the office. you turn around to take another sip from your water bottle before following her out.
being at danielaâs house again makes you nostalgic. her mother greeted you warmly, and her father shook your hand with a grip so tight you almost thought he would break it. you couldnât blame him if he didâ you did break his daughterâs heart.Â
but during dinner, it felt like nothing had changed. danielaâs mother asked you questions about your life, including whether you planned to own the bakery one day. she reminisced about the days when you and daniela were in high school, telling you how happy she was to see a new face, one who wasnât danielaâs cheer friends or the random boyfriends she brought home.Â
the entire time, danielaâs cheeks were pink in embarrassment as you laughed at every word her mother said. you ignored the way her father stared you down silently, as if observing your intentions with his daughter all over again.Â
once dinner was over, you found yourself sitting in front of the lake silently behind her house, your legs pulled up to your chest as you stared at the water gently lapping against each other. daniela sat next to you, your shoulders inches apart. Â
âmy mom is so happy you arenât actually dying,â daniela shares through a giggle. her words make you smile; the thought of her mother still caring about you, despite the bitter end between you and her daughter, allows you to feel relieved.Â
you nod, keeping your eyes on the water. âno death anytime soon, i swear. my mom is just⊠dramaticâŠâ daniela laughs and bumps your shoulder with hers. you bite your lip to suppress your smile, not wanting to show how much youâre enjoying being around the latina again.Â
she looks at you, grinning widely. âgod, i love your mom⊠sheâs kinda crazy.â that makes you laugh loudly, your head thrown back. the tension you felt earlier in your shoulders starts to fade away as you continue talking to daniela, falling into a comfort level you havenât felt in years.
you donât feel bitter when she talks about los angeles and her members from katseye. instead of tuning her out, you finally listen when she shares her experiences so far and what she's been through.Â
suddenly, she changes the conversation, her head turning back toward the lake. âwe had our first kiss here.âÂ
for some reason, her words cause you to laugh, your head thrown back as the memory comes back to you. you shake your head as you stare up at the stars above. âoh my god, donât bring that up, please.âÂ
she bumps her shoulder against yours again, staring up at you with an amused look in her eyes. âwhy? it wasnât that embarrassingâŠâÂ
âdani, i literally fell onto you in the water. i didnât even mean to kiss you,â you scoffed, still looking up at the stars.Â
she scoots closer to you, your shoulders finally touching. her eyes remain on you as she teases, âdid you mean to kiss me right after that one, then?âÂ
your cheeks burn as the memory continues to play in your head. it was the summer right before your senior year, and she convinced you to go on a late-night swim. you intended to pick her up and throw her back into the water, but as you tried to catch her, you slipped and fell, with your lips crashing against hers clumsily.
when you pulled away, you were afraid you ruined everything. but her dimpled smile shone brightly despite the darkness that shrouded you both. her arms were wrapped around your neck, and you remember the feeling of her fingers playing with your hair.Â
you kissed her again. and again. and again until you needed to catch your breath.Â
you turn your attention back to the latina with a slight smile on your lips. your heart races as the memory replays in your mind over and over again. âi had to make up for the sucky one, you know?âÂ
itâs her turn to scoff, swatting your shoulder playfully. âit was perfect no matter what.âÂ
a silence falls between you two. you continue to stare at each other, unsure of who should speak first.Â
daniela tilts her head as she ends the silence, âso, youâre not gonna die⊠but, if you donât take care of yourself, thereâs a chance you would?â the way her voice wavers a bit causes you to glance at the latina.Â
you remain silent, gazing at the water again. she speaks again, her voice shakier than before, âyouâre still the person i wanna tell everything to, you know?â she continues to look at you with glossy eyes. âyouâre still the person i wanna run to at the end of the day.âÂ
âwhy?â you ask quickly, your brows furrowed as you look back at daniela. youâre hyperaware of how close you two are, with your hands only inches apart. your pinky reaches out to her, but you retract it, not wanting to ruin the moment.Â
she shrugs and takes a deep breath, an airy chuckle escaping her lips. âi donât know⊠i think a part of me will always want to be yours.âÂ
her words linger for a moment. you gaze at daniela, and even though the years have flown by, itâs still daniela avanzini. not from katseye, but the daniela avanzini from the cheer team. daniela avanzini, the homecoming queen.
sheâs daniela avanzini, and she loved you with her head held high and danced around in the kitchen with you late at night because it just made sense. daniela avanzini took you to prom despite her friends' protests back then and spoke highly of you while she was away at dream academy.Â
daniela avanzini hopped on the first plane back to georgia because she thought you were dying. daniela avanzini did that even though you broke her heart into a million pieces because you were scared of what the end would look like.Â
âwatching you leave was the hardest thing i've ever done.â you confess.Â
she grabs your handâ proving once again sheâs much braver than you ever could be. âyou know i had to.âÂ
âi know.â you squeeze her hand, holding her gaze. âi know. iâm sorry.âÂ
daniela looks down at your connected hands. her thumb caresses your skin gently as she whispers, âi was gonna come back.â she tugs at your hand and lets out a shaky breath. âi always intended to come back to you.âÂ
tears threaten to fall from your eyes at her words. you stare at her, tilting your head, hoping sheâd notice the regret in your expression. âi just didnât think it was on your priority list at the time.âÂ
she looks up at you with glossy eyes. âi have to go back next week,â she suddenly tells you. her eyes dare you to run, to make an excuse to leave because of what she said.Â
but you only nod, not letting go of her hand. you silently plead for a second chance, for a new start, maybe to even dance around the kitchen one last time.Â
the week daniela has to leave, she canât come to the bakery. she told you she had to make her rounds of saying goodbye to friends and other family members, so sheâd be busy until the day she gets on the plane to go back to los angelesâ back to her life, her reality.Â
it breaks your heart, not because sheâs leaving, but because there are still things left unsaid.Â
you arenât sure if this was goodbye or a way for you to pick up the pieces.Â
as you ruminate over the conversation you had with daniela the night before, you continue rolling out the gingerbread dough for the treat of the day, avoiding liaâs evident smirk as you murmur, âi donât know why you keep staring at me like that.â
she rolls her eyes and snatches the rolling pin out of your hands. you look up at her in exasperation, reaching out to grab it back from her, but she pulls it away from you, her brow raised in amusement.Â
âyou already miss herâŠâ she says it in a sing-song tone that makes your brows furrow in irritation. you manage to snatch the rolling pin back, rolling your eyes as you toss it into the sink on your way to the barista station.
lia watches you curiously but quirks a smile when she realizes. âyouâre making another coffee instead of, âtaking a breather.â" you donât see it, but she puts the last few words in air quotes, and a wide grin spreads across her face.Â
you send lia a glare, turning on the espresso machine with a loud click. âi just donât feel like going outside. itâs cold,â you deadpan, but lia tilts her head and places a hand on her hip, that knowing smirk on her lips signaling to you that youâve been caught trying to be better.
âdonât make this more difficult than it already is, alright?â you sigh in an exasperated tone. lia nods, going back to cutting shapes out of the dough.Â
a slight smirk remains as she continues to speak, âyouâve been taking your meds too.â you narrow your eyes at the older girl, grabbing the espresso once itâs done pouring your shot.Â
âwhy are you all up in my business all of a sudden?â you groan, grabbing a coffee cup from the shelf. you pour the espresso into the cup before crouching to open the fridge below the station.Â
as you reach for the oat milk, lia replies, âif you start being bad again, i guess iâll just have to call daniela for assistance.â you scoff, standing back up to pour the milk into the cup.Â
âplease do not waste her time like that,â you tell her, a bit disgruntled as your eyes skim over your options for flavor.
lia pauses her task and looks at you, her amused expression softening slightly. âyour dad told me you guys were high school sweetheartsâŠâÂ
you take a sharp breath in response, leaning against the counter of the barista station as you take a sip from your coffee. âsomething like that, yeah.âÂ
âhave you⊠been thinking about getting back together?â you look down at your coffee cup and shrug, contemplating your response. lia continues speaking as she cuts out more shapes from the dough. âalso, why did you break up with her, anyway?â
you swirl your coffee around, watching it mix as you reply quietly, âshe was following her dreams⊠i didnât think i could be a part of it.âÂ
âdid you even try, though?â lia replies, placing the shapes onto another tray lined with parchment paper. you continue to stare at your coffee cup; the urge to go outside becomes unbearable, but you fight it, taking another sip.Â
you place the coffee cup down onto the counter and glance at lia with a smile that doesnât quite reach your eyes. âi should have.â
you watch as lia places the trays of gingerbread into the oven. she closes it and starts a timer. once sheâs done, she walks over to you and grabs your coffee cup from the counter to take a sip. you glare at her as she shoves the cup back into your hands.Â
âsheâs here now, though,â she says simply, looking up at you with a teasing look in her eyes. your glare hardens, but after more thought, it softens.
you take another sip of your coffee, place it on the counter, and check your watch for the time. youâve successfully avoided taking a break outside. the realization makes you bite your lip, leaving lia at the barista station to wash your hands.Â
as you walk to the sinks, you reply over your shoulder, ânot for long.â
despite how painful it was to get up that morning, you still managed to make it to the airport in time to say goodbye to daniela.
her parents stand off to the side, allowing you both to have a moment to exchange goodbyes.Â
âthis was a fun trip, you know, even though i thought you were like, dying.â a chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.
âi still canât believe you did thatâŠâ you admit, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. thereâs a slight pain in your arms, but you ignore it, not wanting daniela to worry as she makes her journey back to her home.Â
she checks her watch and frowns, looking at the security gate. she has to go now.Â
âof course i did⊠i care a lot about you, you know? even if⊠you knowâŠâ you nod, giving her a slight smile.Â
you gesture toward the gate, avoiding her eyes. âwell⊠iâll still be at the bakery,â you tell her. itâs a simple statement, but underneath it is an invitation. itâs a silent way of telling her that sheâs welcomed back, if she ever wants to come back, and youâd be there with open arms.Â
daniela looks up at you, her eyes full of hope. suddenly, she lets go of her bags, throwing her arms around your neck. she hugs you tightly and rests her head against your chest. you stand there in shock, your brain not fully processing that sheâs in your arms once again. but once it registers, you wrap your arms around her torso, pulling her closer.Â
âi love you,â she whispers against your chest. her arms tighten around you as she nuzzles deeper into you. âi think iâll always love you.âÂ
you close your eyes and rest your chin on top of her head, tears streaming down your face as you whisper back, âthank you for learning how to make a pie with me.âÂ
those three words feel stuck in your throat. but what you said instead is the closest way to do it.
two days later, youâre not at the bakery at 4:30 AM.Â
when lia comes in, she tries calling you, but you donât answer.Â
thereâs no treat of the day.Â
by the time the morning rush ends, your father finds you on your bedroom floor.Â
unresponsive, not moving. cold to the touch.Â
on your nightstand is a handwritten apple pie recipe.Â
you never got to finish it, though.
there was something about the smell of a hospital that never quite bothered you.Â
it became almost comforting, because every time you wake up after a fall, the strong scent of sterile equipment and recently washed hospital blankets fills your senses, and you realize: youâre still alive.Â
this time around, though, the sweet scent of vanilla and lavender is the first thing you can smell, and for a moment you panic, wondering if youâre still stuck in a dream.
but as you slowly open your eyes, the weight of danielaâs head resting on your arm becomes more real. you groggily glance over at her, blinking a few times to get a clearer picture. she sits in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs and leans over the bed just to sleep soundly against you.Â
you canât see her face, but the way her shoulders rise and fall with every slow breath she takes tells you she has fallen asleep at some point. youâre not sure how long itâs been since you collapsed in your room, and you arenât sure when she came running to your side again, but as you look at daniela, it starts to dawn on you.Â
everyone who knows about your disease often tells you over and over again how brave you are. they always send you kind messages about how youâll overcome this, how youâll live a good and fulfilling life.Â
but youâve been afraid your entire life, even before your diagnosis.Â
your arm that isnât connected to a machine lifts itself from the bed. you reach out to daniela, placing your hand on top of her head as youâve done so many times before. she slowly stirs, and for a split second, you consider retracting your hand and pretending nothing happened, but for the first time in so long, you feel brave.
daniela turns her head toward you, smiling tiredly. her hair is a bit of a mess, and it looks as though she hasnât slept well in days, but to you, she is still the most beautiful person youâve ever met.Â
daniela closes her eyes again, a smile still on her lips as she whispers, âgood morning.â
youâre awake, youâre here, and youâre here to stay.Â
you play with her curls as you whisper back, âi love you.â
you lean against your station, heaving tiredly as you use your apron to wipe the sweat off your forehead for the nth time that morning.Â
lia leans against the counter thatâs across from you and glares, fanning herself with her hand. âyou said youâd fix that damn fanâŠâ you groan, throwing your head back dramatically.Â
âi know⊠stop reminding me!â before lia could express another complaint, sheâs cut off by the sound of the entrance doorbell ringing. she groans, gesturing for you to take the customer who just walked inside. you roll your eyes, wiping away the rest of the sweat on your face as you walk to the front of the bakery.Â
as you get to the front, you stop in your tracks when you see her. and sheâs accompanied by five other girls.Â
they all smile at you, but your eyes focus on daniela. she gives you her dimpled smile, her eyes twinkling with happiness and excitement.Â
âi told you iâd stop by!â she tells you, giggling softly at your slightly surprised expression. a smile finds its way onto your lips as you hold her gaze and nod.Â
you walk up to the counter and reach out to hold her hand. âi didnât doubt you for a second.âÂ
for the treat of the day, it's cherry pie with a graham cracker crust. you made sure to let her and everyone else know that it can be done à la mode.Â
âare the cherries picked fresh?â
âyeah, i made sure to pick the good-looking ones at the grocery store.â
âyouâre so stupid.â
an: first reupload on this acc and oh my god... yall... lowk cried while editing this one ngl LMAO! a little too much for me rn! but do yall ever re-read a fic u wrote after not touching it for so long and ur like damn. i kinda ate. that's how i feel with this one <3 anyway, i hope u all enjoyed and felt all the feelings again. if this one is new to u then i hope it's everything u could have ever wanted n more when it comes to angst w a happy ending lol :) i don't make a lot of those so.... - rylee
At the end of the day, I truly just feel horrible for the USA womenâs hockey team, who were reduced to a joke by the president of the very country they won a gold medal for and whose anthem they sang proudly with American flags draped around their shoulders. Who were laughed at by their fellow Olympians and hockey players. Who have worked just as hard (if not harder) than the men to get to the point, because after the last Winter Olympics, many of them didnât even know if they would be able to continue playing professional hockey on account of being women!
But I am so fucking proud of them and I refuse to let their win be overshadowed by this absolute garbage. They are gold medalists and always will be!
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