Absolutely wild that people assume I particularly care what a fictional character would think of me if we were on the same side of the fourth wall. "[insert villain here] would kill you" yeah so would a polar bear that doesn't mean that seeing one isn't a delightful part of a day at the zoo
Okay, but did anyone know that Palpatine was Sidious aside from Dooku? Did Grievous?
Because, after everything that happened in the Clone Wars, I feel like it would be entirely in character for Grievous to kill Palpatine thinking he was doing the Separatists a Solid. Meanwhile Dooku is just staring at Palpatine’s body and feeling like he’s going to have a stroke. Because
It’s a well-established trope from the Clone Wars that Grievous periodically Does The Stupidest Thing You Have Ever Witnessed In His Grudge Match Against Obi-Wan and that
Dooku is constantly being inconvenienced by said grudge matches because they always end up working in Obi-Wan’s Favor.
Know what? Not done with this yet because it’s the funniest thing for me to contemplate this week.
Palpatine is captured. He’s sitting in that big fancy room. Handcuffed to a chair. Grievous is prowling around said chair, but he’s insignificant to Palpatine in the long run. Just a blunt instrument. He’s got nothing better to do so he’s internally patting himself on the back for staging yet another successful kidnapping of himself, thinking ahead to enacting the final part of the plan in killing Dooku and bagging Anakin as his new Apprentice. Dooku isn’t there yet, he’s set to rendezvous in about fifteen minutes or so.
Palpatine doesn’t notice Grievous getting progressively angrier as Obi-Wan and Anakin wage a cruiser battle and it appears they are winning. It’s insignificant to him. The only warning he gets is Grievous sending a cam droid into the air and recording, but he assumes it’s a posterity thing.
“You lose, General Kenobi!” Boom, just like that, Grievous runs Palpatine through with one lightsaber and beheads him with two more. Dooku shows up just in time to see the last smoke from the release of dark energy recede from the room. He does the only sensible thing he can to salvage the situation; he promptly leaves the ship and hides out in that little Sith lair on Coruscant having five successive panic attacks while the Republic reels from the loss of the Chancellor.
The thing is, I somehow doubt Dooku knew the full extent of Operation Knightfall. And even if he did, there was a reason Palpatine killed him and wanted Anakin instead. Dooku is a businessman. And he was once a Jedi. On paper, the idea might seem a pretty good one. But he’s falter just before the big moment. Either because he can never seem to deal any true damage to Obi-Wan in memorial of Qui-Gon, or because there actually IS a difference between a Dark Jedi and a Sith in practice.
He settles for killing most of the High Council off instead (again, not being able to kill Obi-Wan). Yoda was his main grievance, anyway.
And initially, the Jedi and the Republic are left reeling. Until they realize that their intelligence leaks have lessened by 75%, and that problems impeding military and relief aid are almost non-existent compared to what they were. Then Ahsoka drags Maul back and he nearly dies laughing when he realizes what happened, and because it’s Kenobi he can’t help but monologue and gloat about Palpatine and his hubris, and that’s how they eventually learn the full scope of the plot in motion against them.
Eventually, they win the war, and for the life of them they can’t figure out where Dooku got off to (he left in a self-imposed exile after he killed the High Council because his work, from his point of view, was done. Like Thanos heading off to his stupid garden planet at the end of Infinity War.
All of it, because Grievous has a chronic inability to problem solve when Obi-Wan is nearby and contributing to their grudge match, and because Palpatine neglected to tell his blunt instrument that he was in fact said instrument’s boss.
It’s my mom’s birthday today so maybe not at 10:00 but I’ll see what I can do. Heavy on the Crack, Sir? Light on the Angst? Do you prefer Hirt/Comfort or No Hurt/Comfort?
The council has reviewed your petition and has decided to push back the deadline to Thursday 10 am, since spending time with your family is important and we don't want another Padmé or Shmi situation. We already have enough Darths and not enough Obi-wans to keep chopping off their limbs.
There is no preference in genre BUT the request is that it has a coherent timeline. Which is understood to be a difficult petition for Star Wars standards since neither Lucas, Filoni, Favreau, Kennedy or anyone for that matter has yet to manage one. But we have complete faith in your ability to do so.
Posted to Ao3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46233199
...But can be read under the cut.
Title: Hoist With His Own Petard
All things considered, things were going pretty well for Sheev Palpatine that day. He had staged yet another successful kidnapping of his own person, and he had a front row seat to one of the most spectacular space battles of their time in a very spacious room perfectly geared for the massive duel that would occur in roughly one hour. The chair was comfortable despite his being cuffed to it, and it was a welcome reprieve from the bureaucratic mess of paperwork that was running both sides of a war at the same time.
Sparks were quite literally flying between the Republic and Separatist ships, the 212th as usual giving all it got. An added boon was the knowledge that Skywalker’s former Padawan, Tano, had his very capable Torrent Company hunting down the thorn in Sheev’s side that was Maul. Grievous was a blunt but effective instrument, so the 212th would be kept sufficiently busy until Dooku could arrive in… roughly fifteen minutes. And, hopefully, Skywalker would be able to kill him in cold blood to further facilitate his Fall toward the Dark Side of the Force.
Yes sirree, everything was coming up Sheev.
He was in such a good mood that he wasn’t even bothered when Grievous entered into his room, unaware of who his true master was, and deviated from script by pulling out several holo-cameras and making a dramatic broadcast to the bridge of the Negotiator. Grievous had always loathed Kenobi on a level that bordered obsession, partly because Kenobi didn’t rate him the same way back and mostly because Kenobi just had that infuriating effect on his enemies. It was almost a pity the man was so entrenched in the Light; Skywalker served as a good attack dog at the best of times, but someone more prone to subtlety like Kenobi would have been best suited at holding onto his leash. No matter. That was a job that would fall to Tarkin once the war was ended and the Empire was allowed to rise.
Sheev couldn’t have been less bothered by Grievous’ showboating. He was a lot of bluster in a dangerous cybernetic package that on the best of days only managed to do most of what he had been instructed to accomplish, or as Dooku had said on a number of occasions an unfortunately necessary series of inconveniences bundled into a headache.
Which was most likely why, when the blow came, Sheev didn’t see it coming. One moment, he was seated in his chair, watching the spectacle of an entire Galaxy clamoring after him, and the next there was nothing as his head separated from his shoulders with two saber strikes and two more ran through his chest.
“You lose, General Kenobi!”
Count Dooku, former Jedi, leader of Serenno and the Confederate Systems, Lord of the Sith, was absolutely powerless. He stood before the still-smoldering corpse of Sidious’ headless in the chair, the windows blown out with the sheer force of the dark energy leaving his body and the blast shields sealed. The deep gouges left over from Grievous’ clawed feet in the floor before he’d been sucked out the openings, the acrid tang of cauterized flesh and the tell-tale discharge of plasma from a lightsaber.
He fled. The room, the ship, the star system.
There was much to plan, and much of it undone by a single act of idiocy on the part of Grievous. All of it, ruined. And all of it left to Dooku to complete. It was a monumental task when he didn’t have access to the Senate as Palpatine did, access to the Jedi as Palpatine did. The entire plan revolved around unrestricted access to the Clone Army which they no longer had. He saw ahead of him a very difficult path to activate the Clones’ chips, one that involved sneaking into either Tipoca City or the Supreme Chancellor’s office, neither of which was a very alluring idea considering his face had become one of the most recognized in the entire Galaxy.
Dooku grit his teeth and set to work, beginning by sending Grievous to Utapau to kill the leaders of the Separatist army. They were no longer needed and at this point were excess baggage, and as of this moment he needed some sort of Galactic wide outrage to turn focus away from other areas of concern. He anonymously let slip that Grievous had been sighted on Utapau to the right people to get the Jedi to send someone in that direction, then waited as he fine-tuned the unraveling threads of Palpatine’s web and reformed it into something new to maintain its usefulness.
The idea of killing every last Jedi had never sat well with him, though he hadn’t necessarily been against it if he were not directly involved… it was troubling to him, in many ways, that Palpatine had never spoken of Dooku’s involvement past the final battle over Coruscant. Reflection brought on the suspicion that he had been close to being disposed of on that ship, and in an odd roundabout way he was grateful for Grievous’ lack of self-control.
He set his sights narrower. Instead of all Jedi, it would only be the High Council. The rot of the root of the problem at the center of the Order would be cleansed, liberating them from adherence to the Senate as its lapdogs and enforcers. With the death of the leaders of the Techno Union, Trade Federation, Banking Clan, and Geonosians, the Separatist power base would crumble. The war would end in a matter of months.
(~^~)
“I find it strange that we’ve had more victories against the Separatists since the loss of the Chancellor than before,” Ki-Adi Mundi was saying as Obi-Wan tuned back in to the Council session and away from the training bond he still shared with Anakin. The man was visiting his wife - not that Obi-Wan was supposed to be aware of that little fact - and he was equal parts overjoyed and terrified. It was… distracting.
“Yes, one would think that with a major political figure gone from our government we would be floundering,” Adi Gallia mused. “But we seem to be sloughing off cobwebs, trekking out of deep mud, and setting foot on solid land.”
“We’re all in agreement that Palpatine was more of a hindrance than a help when it came to the war,” Mace said bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. “Who are the candidates for the new Supreme Chancellor?”
“Several people we dislike on basic moral principal, and Senator Organa,” Obi-Wan chimed in. Padmé had spoken at length about it when he had come over to have dinner with she and Anakin the prior evening. “Bail is quite popular, and most of the Senate seems to think that he is the best chance regardless of whether they like him or not. We have the campaigning monitored closely for the emergency election, but it seems that the next Chancellor will be Bail Organa of Alderaan.”
“That’s one less thing to worry about then,” Ki murmured, looking relieved. His holographic form flickered dangerously for a few moments as the connection threatened to cut before stabilizing. “There has been no sign of Grievous either. We can focus our efforts elsewhere. The droid attack on the Wookiees, for example.”
“Important, it is,” Yoda said, perking up in his seat. “Good relations with the Wookiees, I have. Go, I will.”
“And the mission to Mandalore?” Mace asked. Obi-Wan shuffled about in his seat uncomfortably as all eyes settled on him.
“Going well. Ahsoka was shocked to hear of Palpatine, but as it seems to be with all of our campaigns the news hasn’t negatively affected the operation.”
“Did she seem well?” Plo Koon enquired, holographic expression crinkling in concern.
“She did,” Obi-Wan answered softly. “Despite the best efforts of this Council to ensure otherwise,” he added bitterly.
“Obi-Wan-” Mace began. Obi-Wan cut him off.
“I’d rather not hear any excuses, it just makes my own guilt worse,” he snapped before drawing a deep breath. With your permission, I would like to check in on Senator Organa and see if he needs anything from our Order regarding the election. What little pull we have should be publicly given to him as soon as possible.”
“…Then this meeting is adjourned,” Mace granted, sighing as his shoulders dropped. “And- Obi-Wan? For what it’s worth, I regret what happened with Ahsoka as well.”
“So should all of us,” Obi-Wan said tersely, standing from his seat and striding quickly toward the door.
He took an air taxi to the Senate dome and wound his way down the familiar corridors to Bail’s office, unsurprised to find his friend in a crowd of campaign workers as they scurried to get things accomplished. Senators Chuchi and Mothma were also present, but Padmé was currently nowhere to be seen. That was for the best, probably. Despite how much the Jedi Order and Obi-Wan in particular had despised the man, Palpatine had been a close friend of Anakin’s. S they were probably at her apartments and he was probably grieving. Best he do it away from the Temple, where life continued as usual and everyone was actually a bit more cheerful than they had been of late.
“Master Kenobi!” Bail exclaimed, coming quickly around his desk with a wide and somewhat relieved smile on his face. “It is good to see you well after that battle above us.”
“Senator Organa,” Obi-Wan greeted in return with a wide smile of his own. “I come on behalf of the Order to tell you that any support we have to offer will be thrown to your campaign. Just tell me where to sign.” He dropped the formal pretense. “And, Bail. I come as a friend asking if you need me to put up any fliers?”
“Maybe rally the diner owners through Dex for me, and pick up lunch?” Bail requested before laughing. “And the support of the Jedi is greatly appreciated, thank you. I’ll take anything I can get to beat out Mass Amedda. He’s my main competition; the other two candidates have conceded its a match race between the two of us and one even dropped out to throw in support behind me. The third is still hanging on.”
“Who?” Obi-Wan asked, curious. He’d pulled out a holopad and was sending a message for catering from Dex’s as a mercy mission, and a message to Cody that there was a free lunch in it for any troopers willing to pick it up and drop it off. According to Cody, he was whittling down the list from twenty initial volunteers to ten. Dex had responded that he would cook like a madman. When he finally looked up from the ‘pad, Bsil was grimacing. “Oh dear. Let me guess. Senator Bertoni?”
“Using her leverage as the representative of Kamino to get a foot in the door,” Bail said with a sigh. “Not that anyone is stupid enough to vote for her if they want to end the war, but there are some systems profiteering that would benefit from having her as Chancellor.”
“Hopefully the public support of the Jedi will help. Food is on its way.”
“And you are a very good friend,” Bail said with a soft chuckle. “Thank you for coming by.”
Obi-Wan bid him farewell with a soft smile before heading towards Padmé’s apartment. He wasn’t entirely sure why the Force was prodding him to go in that direction, or why he was listening to it aside from the fact that he had some rare free time to occupy and Anakin was in a bad way, but he caught another air taxi and had it drop him off at the entry. He used the familiar long walk to settle his thoughts and contemplate what he might say, knowing that Anakin would not want to hear it regardless.
Still, he pressed the button by the door and listened to the polite little chime, warming his hands in the folds of his sleeves against the chill of the rainy weather. He had expected Padmé to open the door, or Threepio, but it was Anakin himself who opened it up.
“Anakin, I was just checking to see how-”
“I’m leaving the Jedi Order.”
(~^~)
Dooku huffed in displeasure as the green contacts once again itched in his eyes. He hated the fiery red hair dye that had given him an allergic reaction the holo mesh altering his facial features tingling, and the worn and patched clothes he had acquired did nothing to keep out Coruscant’s rain as he drew the Force around him like a cloak and observed Kenobi hailing an air taxi. He hadn’t been a Jedi Shadow with one of the most successful track records for six decades for nothing. Disguised, his Force signature muffled and warped by the Force itself into something mundane and wholly different, he doubted even Yoda would recognize him at first glance.
Bounty Hunters were getting into position at that very moment, taking their sweet time in tracking their targets for the perfect kill. He himself had managed to slip into the Temple unseen and unnoticed as just another civilian tech worker, shorting out security feeds with ease to obscure the actions of planting bombs underneath the chairs of the High Council. Yoda was going to Kashyyyk soon, and he meant to follow as he trusted no one else with such a task.
It was poetic, almost. How beautiful and simple it was to infiltrate the Jedi Temple when you had been one of their own and knew exactly where and when things took place. All the zones to avoid and what hours to hide away during, bypassing the busy corridors by taking to the maintenance catwalks. Xanatos had done a number on the Temple ages ago, and Dooku hadn’t forgotten how it had opened his eyes to the vulnerability of it all. Information that he gladly passed onto Cad Bane, a man who had successfully infiltrated the Temple once prior even without such information and who would most likely have no trouble in doing so again so that they could ensure the bombs detonated in the chamber at precisely the correct moment.
So, he decided to prepare for the next phase of his objectives. With a single movement, he stepped into the shadows and disappeared from the pavement just before Obi-Wan’s gaze swept over the spot he had vacated.
It was subtle, at first. There had been a perfect moment to blow every single High Council member sky high, or have them fall to a blade or sniper’s shot.
But there was this feeling of unease, and every time Dooku thought about it he pictured Qui-Gon’s face full of disappointment, run through in the abdomen by Maul’s lightsaber. Every single time, he saw a ghost.
And so he waited, and waited.
Until finally, a week later, Obi-Wan left for Utapau to fight Grievous. Grievous had been warned of this of course, but still… Obi-Wan would have better chances against Grievous than a bomb under his seat.
He went to bed that night, badly injured from his duel with Yoda that he had admittedly gotten extremely lucky in, and slept peacefully knowing that he had done what he set out to do. What he felt was necessary for the future of the Galaxy.
(~^~)
Obi-Wan had been riding high on adrenaline and the victory of knowing that Grievous was finally dead when Cody had come running up to him, a holo of Ahsoka in hand.
“Sir! I think you need to hear this,” he said, tone tense and vibrating with worry.
“Ahsoka? Are you all right? Is Maul-”
“Sidious is dead,” Ahsoka interrupted, Rex standing behind her shoulder. Both looked tense. “Maul wouldn’t stop talking about it, how Sidious was Palpatine all along. How he felt that, once he escaped and could kill you, his need for revenge would be sated.” She rolled her eyes. “It was getting him to shut up that was the trick, really. We got a lot of information out of him just because he was overjoyed at hearing Sheev was dead.”
“And you informed the High Council?” Obi-Wan asked sharply, eyebrows raising into his hairline as he exchanged a disbelieving look with Cody. Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably.
“No. Master… I couldn’t get through. To any of them but you. I tried the general frequency, the emergency frequency, and every single personal frequency I could remember. None of them. Finally, I got in touch with Anakin- or rather, Padmé on Anakin’s holo. Because he was at the Temple, sifting through the debris after an explosion took out the Tower while it was in session.”
“What about the campaigns?” Obi-Wan asked, dread filling the pit of his stomach.
“Sniper, duelist, poison, you name it. Everyone… everyone is gone, Master. You’re the only remaining member of the High Council left. Even Master Yoda… reports say Dooku went after him himself, and that Dooku got lucky. He’s injured, but alive somewhere. And everyone except you is dead.”
“R-return to the Temple, we need everyone we can get,” Obi-Wan murmured, swallowing thickly. Ahsoka nodded, and the call went dead. “Cody, ready the troops. We make for Coruscant as quickly as possible.”
“Sir.”
(~^~)
Newly-appointed Supreme Chancellor Bail Organa of Alderaan was there in person at the Temple in work clothes helping to move debris. His PR team said it looked good to voters, but he didn’t care. He was there for people who were always there for them and expected nothing. He was there for his friends. He was there because he had to be. It didn’t matter how chafed and sore or cut up his hands became from moving rock and metal. His hands would heal faster than the wounds inflicted into the Order by the blast.
And, when lone surviving High Council Master Obi-Wan Kenobi finally returned from Utapau, Bail was the first to take those cut up hands and use them to envelope his friend in a tight hug that was returned desperately. Moments later Skywalker joined, and then Ahsoka. And it was truly something to watch a group of people described by the outside Galaxy as ‘detached and heartless’ come together, hands touching shoulders touching hands touching shoulders in an ever-widening circle as they shared their grief so collectively in the Force that even a Force-null such as Bail was overcome by the sheer power and weight of it.
Anyone who ever said that Jedi never allowed themselves to feel had never set foot inside the Temple.
Former High Council members were coming forward to fill the void and elect new members to replace them that they found competent, the main ringleader for all of it Jocasta Nu as she approached it with the same tenacity as she did organizing her Archives. Even then, however, Obi-Wan was the one they deferred to just as surely as they had once deferred to Yoda and Mace.
Bail, there every day when he got the time to clean up for the first three weeks, watched it all from afar.
Anakin had left the Order and followed Padmé back to Naboo to - apparently - raise the twins conceived from their secret marriage. Ahsoka had returned and was liaising as best she could with Captain Rex and Commander Cody to ensure that the GAR didn’t fall to pieces as well. Everyone had basically concluded that, just as fighting Maul had earned Obi-Wan his own Knighthood, so too did his apprehension earn Ahsoka hers.
Several Jedi Masters had rendezvoused in the appropriate sectors to take control of entire battalions operated by now-absent High Generals. One of them had lost his life in doing so, a Lasat by the name of Jaro Tapal. The Padawan boy with the bright copper hair and freckles wandering the Temple like a ghost afterward nearly broke Bail’s heart, though he managed to spackle up the cracks with the way the boy was following Obi-Wan around like a little puppy.
Bail had put out the intelligence forces into finding Dooku. Cody had described the absolute massacre that had occurred on Utapau of the rest of the Separatist leadership at Grievous’ hand, and Chucci and Mothma were still trying to come up with a way to explain the reason for the war to the public that didn’t destroy everything they stood for with the realization that Palpatine had been behind it all the whole time.
Everything was falling apart, and yet somehow still it held together. Maybe it was the will of the Force. Or maybe it was just pure dumb luck.
The war was over. And there was a Galaxy to fix.
(~^~)
Dooku let out a tiny hum as the ground trembled from the downforce of a ship making a landing nearby but didn’t open his eyes. He remained poised in meditation on his rock, occasionally sipping at the tea he had steeped in a tiny clay pot and poured into a tiny clay cup before him. He was at one with the nature of Naboo and the Force. There was no forgiveness, and no condemnation either. He was at peace with what was to come.
“I see you’ve taken on a new Padawan,” he said quietly as the grass in front of him rustled, finally opening his eyes to see Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting cross-legged across from him. “Just as I sense that he remained on the ship.”
“Cal Kestis,” Obi-Wan replied on a whisper. “He belonged to Master Tapal before the war took him from us as well.”
“My condolences. Master Tapal was a distinguished Jedi and a fine warrior. He was set to replace Master Drallig as Battlemaster of the Order, was he not?”
“He was.” For several long minutes, there was only quiet and the Force. “You’re dying?”
“Slow-acting poison.” Dooku gestured toward the tea. “I sensed your approach. Was I meant to?”
“Yes.”
“And you have questions. I have some time yet, and am willing to give answers. There is no need for secrecy now.” Dooku smiled slightly as he let his eyes flutter closed. The poison he had imbibed was one of the kinder ones. It slowed the heart rate until the heart beat no more, and he was beginning to feel drowsy.
“Why did you spare me?” Obi-Wan asked. “You killed everyone else, but not me. Why?” Dooku cracked one eye open and regarded his Grandpadawan with a regretful sigh.
“I did many things incorrectly throughout my life,” he said softly. “Distancing myself from my former Padawans. Refusing to meet my Grandpadawans- of which there were very few. Only one recently from Keely, and one dead from Rael. Feemor has moved on, and Xanatos disgraced and dead. But you, Obi-Wan Kenobi…” here, Dooku trailed off and let his gaze wander to the horizon over to the thundering curtain of white water from the falls beside Theed’s royal palace. “I regret much about you. Never meeting you, before Qui-Gon’s death. Never being there when you needed my support, such as when Tahl died and it shattered Qui-Gon entirely. And to say that I would have become one with the Force only to spend the rest of my eternity haunted by Qui-Gon’s ghost…” Dooku trailed off and swallowed thickly, struggling with what to say.
A few minutes passed by before Obi-Wan gently pressed for continuation.
“Count?”
“I have had my issues with the Jedi, and the High Council specifically, over the years,” Dooku explained. He leant forward and laid a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “But never once did I find fault in you. You are everything a Jedi should be, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And had my pride not prevented me from doing so, I would have been honored to call you Grandpadawan.”
Dooku let his body slowly move towards the grass as eternal sleep endeavored to claim him, and he was truthfully surprised when he found his head pillowed in Obi-Wan’s lap instead. He found the entirety of his vision encompassing the younger man’s tender, compassionate and oh so broken expression. A brokenness he had helped to put there; regardless of not feeling regret over the things he had done as a Sith, he regretted bringing hardship to the man now offering comfort in his last moments that he most certainly did not deserve.
“And there was once a time when I would have given anything to call you Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan murmured gently. “You paid for your sins already, I think. On Galidraan. Now, you can rest.”
“There is no Death,” Dooku rasped. His eyes grew heavy, vision darkening and hearing fading. But he did hear the final words, and he smiled.
“There is only the Force. May the Force be with you, Grandmaster.”
Cal stayed on the ship while Obi-Wan prepared the pyre and lit it, staying long into the night in silent vigil. Once done, he dropped to his knees at the foot of the ashes, buried his head in his hands, and cried.
The council has read three times this fic and wants to say that it is most pleased.
And they want to reiterate that they are not screaming on the inside because of this amazing fic.
They also want to deny the claims that they have downloaded it to reread the next day on the plane again or how they have pestered everyone at their workplace because holy shit they love it so much.
Also, they want to leave a little token of gratitude under the cut.
my life is a joke i live 2 minutes from a castle in one direction and the old town market in the other. you can see remnants of the old walls in part of the town, our library used to be the medieval townhall. we have a 500 y/o fairy tree overlooking the entire valley. and i dont even have any elves to fuck
Look slow burn is great but have you considered: slow burn and the opposite at the same time.
One of them looks at the other for the first time and is like “that one.” Ready to marry them five minutes later. Falls like a ton of bricks.
Other one is completely oblivious to this and fails in love so slowly that they go boiled frog and don’t realise for years that they love the other one back just as fiercely, and have for a while, until it’s “oh” time.
janainaart
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