Chapter summary: Lia and Noah return to L.A. and things become hectic, so by the end of summer they decide to escape to a cabin in the woods for a few days.
Reading time: about 20mins
Author's note: ah, well, I know I said a few hours ago i still needed time to edit and blablabla but... i couldn't wait to share this chapter because of how it ends so i spent the last two hours working on it. Sorry if it feels rushed but I hope you like it 🤭🥹💖 (this chapter spans a bunch of months)
Tags and trigger warnings: implied burnout, fluff? cliffhanger? yes, cliffhanger
General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18
Time in Japan always carried a kind of ethereal quality, so different from life back in Los Angeles.
Hana’s house, tucked away in a quiet village near Tokyo, felt like a refuge; a space where Lia and Noah could set aside the worries and burdens that followed them in the States.
Here, life leaned toward something softer, almost magical. It was where they recalibrated, where they reminded each other of the purpose of life, and where their inevitable fate was a constant reminder. There was still work, of course. Obligations, responsibilities. Commitments and expectations waiting for them. But beneath all of that, life was simpler.
Noah and Lia were meant for each other. Whether by fate, by the universe, or by something neither of them could name, it was a truth that didn’t shift. It was the foundation beneath everything else, the place they rose from each morning, the reason they kept moving forward, chasing everything life demanded of them. Because as long as they had each other, they could face anything.
It was that certainty, that constant awareness of the depth of what they shared, that made the village feel so different. So peaceful in a way that was almost addictive. Being there didn’t feel like simply being in another country; it felt closer to stepping into a dream.
Noah would wake up with Lia sprawled beside him on the futon, the soft song of a bush warbler drifting in from outside instead of the sharp interruption of alarms and endless notifications.
He had time to stay under the covers, to stare out the window, to let his thoughts wander while listening to the steady rhythm of Lia’s breathing beside him.
On their last morning in Japan, before returning to Los Angeles, while out in the balcony in the early hours of the day, he thought about the first time they had come here together, staying in this very same house. They had been twenty, or close to it. He couldn’t remember if Lia had still been nineteen.
He remembered Hana gifting her a book on Japanese botany. Lia had spent hours reading it, completely absorbed, then dragging him along to different spots around the village, determined to find the flowers she’d read about, wanting to see them with her own eyes.
Now, all these years later, you only had to ask her. She would know exactly where to find certain flowers in the surrounding area, which ones grew nearby, which ones were more common in other parts of Japan.
He remembered how many flower crowns she used to make back then, sitting outside, weaving stems through stems. She’d always said it calmed her. He had tried to make them too, more than once, but he’d been terrible at it since he was a kid, and nothing had changed.
Now that they were adults, he pictured her in a wedding dress, and thought of how much he’d love to see her wearing a flower crown the day they got married.
“So…” her voice drifted lazily from the bed, pulling him back to the present. “Have you decided to ditch our life in Los Angeles and stay here forever?”
Noah snorted, pushing himself away from where he’d been leaning on the balcony railing.
“I’m afraid I have a meeting with Sumerian in four days,” he said, stepping back inside. “And it’s not to discuss replacing me as a singer so I can run away to some cozy Japanese village with you.”
“Oh. That sucks,” she murmured, letting her head fall back against the pillow.
He smiled, then walked to his suitcase. “Come on, Miss. We’ve got a lot to do.”
And there was so much waiting for them back home.
Noah was right. Time in Japan slowed down.
In the States, it rushed past them without asking.
The moment they landed back in Los Angeles, everything accelerated again. Noah’s phone barely left his hand. Calls stacking on top of each other, messages flooding in. Meetings with the band, meetings with Sumerian, long hours back in the studio working on new music, new visuals, new concepts. One thing bled into the next until the days blurred together.
And then, suddenly, it was summer again: flights, soundchecks, stages in different cities every other night. He was moving constantly, living out of a suitcase, sometimes waking up not entirely sure where he was or what day it was.
Lia’s pace wasn’t much slower.
Her work had started reaching further than ever before. More people were seeing it, more people wanted it. She had plenty of commissions coming in, galleries showing interest, opportunities she had once only imagined now landing in her inbox. She loved it. She loved creating, loved the way her ideas took shape and found their way into the world. But doing almost everything on her own; the painting, managing requests, handling communication, overseeing Bad Omens merch alongside it all, was beginning to catch up with her.
There weren’t enough hours in the day anymore.
One afternoon, during the middle stretch of the summer shows, Folio had caught her just as she stepped away from the merch booth, shoulders slumped, her energy visibly running thin. She’d been muttering to herself, something about not being able to keep up with everything at once.
He came up behind her, hands settling on her shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tension there.
“You know,” he said, voice softer than usual as he started massaging the knots he could feel. “You were never meant to work at a merch stand.”
She let out a tired breath, eyes closing for a second despite herself.
“You’re made for bigger things, Lia.”
She had laughed it off at the time, brushing the comment aside before it could settle.
“Why are you so good at this?” she asked instead, tilting her head as his thumbs found another spot. “This feels suspiciously professional.”
Folio clicked his tongue.
“No, seriously,” she said. “Do you moonlight at a spa?”
“As if I had the energy to do more than just crash in a hotel bed, ha! I’m just observant,” he replied. “People carry stress in obvious places.”
“Well, that sounded very wise.”
“Write it down,” he said. “Nick Folio, philosopher and shoulder healer.”
Three days after the last show of the summer, when everyone else was finally getting a week or two to recover, Lia was doing anything but.
The post office had misplaced a shipment of her artwork meant for a client in Amsterdam, and what should have been a straightforward delivery had turned into a mess of emails, calls, and mounting frustration. No one seemed to have a clear answer, and every update only made things more complicated.
At the same time, she was scheduled to attend the opening of an exhibition featuring a series of smaller paintings she’d completed the year before, part of an illustrated story that had gained attention when she’d shared it on her website. It should have been exciting. Instead, it felt like something else to manage.
She hadn’t had time to buy something to wear. Hadn’t prepared a speech, hadn’t even properly thought about what the event meant to her. It all hovered in the background like unfinished business, another responsibility waiting to be handled.
By the time evening rolled around, her laptop was still open, emails half-written, tabs multiplying across the screen. Her phone buzzed intermittently somewhere.
And for the first time in a while, she thought that maybe she couldn’t keep doing all of it like this.
The apartment door clicked open with a thud, followed by the familiar shuffle of keys hitting the small ceramic tray by the entrance. Noah stepped inside, the faint scent of sweat clinging to him from the gym, his black t-shirt damp and sticking to his back. His duffel bag slid off his shoulder and dropped to the floor with a heavier sound than usual, landing beside the wall.
He exhaled, rolling his neck once, already feeling the pull in his muscles from training. All he could think about was a hot shower.
“Hey babe,” he called out, voice casual as he toed his sneakers off. “You alive?”
No answer.
He frowned, grabbing the paper bag of takeaway he’d hooked around his wrist before closing the door behind him.
He set the takeaway on the kitchen counter and walked up the stairs to her studio, where he found her exactly where he half-expected and half-dreaded.
Lia was hunched over her laptop on the couch, legs tucked awkwardly beneath her, shoulders rounded in a way that immediately made his chest tighten. One hand pressed against her temple, fingers digging in, while the other hovered over the trackpad. Her face was scrunched in concentration, or maybe pain.
“Hey,” he said again.
She startled, looking up at him like she’d just been pulled out from under water.
“Oh. Hey.”
“You didn’t answer any of my messages,” he said, not accusatory, just confused. “I asked if you wanted me to bring something back.”
Her brows knit together, and she blinked a couple of times, processing.
“My phone…” she murmured, glancing around. “Honestly? I don’t know where it is.”
Noah let out a quiet breath through his nose, not quite a sigh, more like confirmation of what he was already seeing.
“I heard it buzzing but… I’ve been trying to fix this thing for…” She glanced at the screen, then winced. “I don’t even know how long.”
He stepped closer, his tiredness from training momentarily pushed aside. Up close, he noticed her eyes strained, that slight tension in her jaw, the kind she got when she pushed herself too far.
“Hey,” he said quietly, crouching down in front of her.
Her gaze dropped to him, a little unfocused.
“How are you feeling?”
She let out a small, humorless breath. “Like my brain’s melting.”
He huffed a faint smile at that, but his eyes stayed soft, concerned. One of his hands came up instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.
“You’ve been at this all day?”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded slowly, glancing at the laptop screen without really reading it, then back at her.
“I brought food anyway,” he said. “Figured you probably forgot to eat.”
Her lips parted, like she was about to argue, but then she stopped because they both knew it was true.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
The need for a shower tugged at him again, but it felt secondary now.
His thumb brushed along her cheek.
“Pause this,” he said. “Just for a bit.”
She hesitated, eyes flicking back to the screen, that familiar pull of responsibility tightening her expression again.
“Noah, I really need to—”
“I know,” he cut in, not dismissing, just steady. “But you’re not gonna fix anything like this.”
Her shoulders dropped, just a fraction.
He gave her a small, reassuring look.
“Food first. Then you can hate your laptop again.”
That earned the faintest hint of a smile from her.
“Okay,” she said, almost a whisper.
He stood up then. “I’m gonna shower real quick before I contaminate everything,” he added, glancing down at himself with a grimace.
Lia watched him go, the tension in her face easing just a little as she leaned back against the couch. For the first time in hours, she let her hands fall away from the keyboard.
They ended up on the sofa with their takeout cartons balanced on the coffee table, the TV on. Noah had picked a new movie streaming on HBO and for a while, it almost felt like they could slip back into that slower rhythm.
Almost.
Lia tried. She really did. She leaned into him, tucked her legs under his thigh, rested her head briefly against his shoulder as the movie played. But every few minutes, her attention drifted. She was mentally opening tabs she couldn’t close.
At one point, she reached for her drink and missed it by an inch.
Noah picked up the remote and paused the movie mid-scene.
“What’s up?” he asked, turning toward her.
Lia blinked. “Hm?”
“You’re not even watching,” he said. “As soon as you finished the food you went somewhere else.”
She exhaled, rubbing her face with both hands before letting them drop into her lap.
“I just—” she started, then shook her head. “I need to fix something for Jolly and Emery. The wedding invitations. There’s a detail in the design that’s off, and they’re supposed to go out, like… tomorrow.”
Noah stared at her for a second.
Of course there was something else.
There was so much that Emery and Jolly’s wedding had become another moving piece in everyone’s already overloaded schedules. Jolly and Emery had nearly everything prepared, but after weeks of trying to make dates work, they had decided to postpone it until the end of November, a month that, compared to the chaos before it, looked almost peaceful.
“Is there anything you’re not doing right now?” Noah asked.
“It feels like no.” Lia let out a small, tired laugh. “I don’t want to be doing this much,” she added, quieter. “It just kind of… happened. And now everything’s urgent, and I don’t know where to start untangling it.”
Noah watched her, taking her in: the exhaustion she was trying to push through, the way her fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
“You’re running on fumes,” he said.
“I know.” She glanced at him, a little helpless. “I just don’t know how to stop without everything falling behind. Do you think it’d be a bad idea,” she said carefully, “if we just… left for a couple of days?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“No laptop. No work. No anything,” she went on. “Just… disappear for a bit. A weekend getaway, I mean. I think I need it.”
Badly.
“No,” he said. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Lia searched his face, like she needed to be sure he meant it.
“We could drive up,” he continued, already thinking it through. “Sure. Somewhere in the mountains. Nothing crazy far. Or crazy, yeah, why not? We could drive to Sacramento or further up. Just a cabin, maybe. Quiet. No signal if we’re lucky.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“That sounds really good,” she admitted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A small smile started to form. Noah reached out, running a hand down her hair.
“Then we’ll do that,” he said simply. “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow after a good night’s sleep, okay?”
Lia nodded, leaning into his touch.
The decision settled quickly into something real. By the start of the next week, it wasn’t just an idea anymore; it was a plan. They would stay for three nights in a cabin at Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park, stopping first to visit Lake Kaweah and have lunch somewhere along the way.
On Wednesday evening, there were two open suitcases on the floor of their bedroom.
Lia sat cross-legged by the bed, folding sweaters into neat piles. She was packing practical things, leggings, t-shirts, a couple of thin jackets and some warm layers. Noah moved around the room with less structure, opening drawers, grabbing things, tossing them onto the bed before deciding whether they deserved a spot in the bag or not.
His hoodies and underwear were mixed up with condom boxes, ropes, and socks.
“Three days,” Lia reminded him, glancing up. “You don’t need six hoodies.”
“They’re options,” he argued, holding one up before tossing it in anyway.
She huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue further. Instead, she reached over and added one of his thicker sweatshirts into her own pile.
By night, everything was ready. Lia had spent the last couple of days tying up loose ends, answering emails, scheduling things ahead, leaving herself notes and post-its for when they got back.
They left on Thursday at sunrise.
The apartment was still and quiet when they stepped out, the sky outside a deep, heavy blue just beginning to soften at the edges. The city hadn’t fully woken up yet. The was no traffic and no noise. Just the low hum of the car engine when Noah started it. Lia curled into the passenger seat, wrapped in one of his hoodies, hair loosely tied back, still half-asleep.
“You good?” he asked, glancing at her as he pulled away from the building.
“Yep. Wake me up when it’s pretty.”
The first stretch of the drive was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt earned. The road unfolded in front of him in long, empty lines. The city slowly gave way to open space, buildings thinning out, replaced by stretches of highway and distant hills.
At some point, Lia’s breathing evened out beside him.
Noah glanced over briefly, just enough to take her in; the way her head had tilted toward the window, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way the sleeve of his hoodie swallowed her hands.
He smiled to himself and focused back on the road until he made a stop at a gas station to fill up the tank and grab two coffees and something to eat.
After that, with Lia awake now, they played some music low and talked about different topics, pointing out things along the road, making comments, joking…
By the time the roads started to curve more, climbing higher, the landscape started to change. An open sky, pines, the air somehow easier to breathe.
By the time they reached the National Park after their stop at Lake Kaweah and their lunch at a restaurant along the way, the sun was fully up, casting light over the surrounding mountains. Three Rivers felt quiet but alive in its own slower way—houses tucked between narrow roads and trees, small shops, and the occasional food truck and town church.
They’d booked a private cabin near Wuksachi Lodge so that they would have access to the lodge’s facilities. From there they had planned a couple of hiking routes for the next days.
Having picked up the keys to the cabin from the main lodge reception, they drove for another five minutes along the river until they reached their home for the next three days. It was a cozy cabin, single floor, nestled among tall sequoias. In the back, the Marble Fork Kaweah River flowed down.
Lia let out a soft breath.
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah. This was a good idea.”
Noah turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, smiling to himself.
Noah had been afraid they wouldn’t make it in time.
But by the time they reached Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park, the sun was just beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in soft streaks of gold and pale pink. It was perfect. Better than he’d imagined.
They stepped out to the evening, gravel crunching under their shoes, the air crisp and cool against their skin. The cabin was so warm-looking despite the chill.
“Did you know the river would be so close by?”
“No, not really,” he admitted. “Let’s take the bags in first. Then we can go explore for a bit before planning what to eat.”
“We can’t miss the sunset.”
“No, we can’t,” he agreed, and opened the trunk to get their luggage out.
Lia glanced past him toward where the light filtered through the trees, calling her.
Inside, the cabin smelled of wood and something clean, like it had been waiting for them. They set their bags down by the door, next to an open living room furnished with two sofas and very soft-looking pillows.
“Okay,” Noah murmured, turning in a slow circle. “This is… really nice.”
“Bedroom,” Lia said after peaking at the kitchen and already moving down the short hallway. “Where’s the bedroom?”
He followed her.
The room was bigger than it had looked in the photos. Much bigger. Three of the walls were lined with tall windows, letting the fading light pour in from every angle, wrapping the space in that soft, end-of-day glow that made everything feel more intimate and almost dream-like.
Lia stepped inside and stopped.
“Oh,” she breathed.
She walked toward the bed, fingertips brushing the edge of the white cotton duvet, then turned her head slightly to take in the windows, the view, the way the light shifted across the room.
“I love this,” she said, almost to herself.
Noah leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her take it all in.
For a second, he forgot about the time.
Forgot about the sun slipping lower.
Forgot about everything except the way she fit into that space like she belonged there.
“We’re missing it,” he said after a moment.
Lia blinked, like she was waking up again, and turned back to him.
“Right. Sunset.” She smiled, quick and bright. “Come on.”
The light had deepened when they stepped outside again. All gold and amber. They followed the path beside the river together, their steps unhurried, climbing for a few minutes until they reached a small open clearing scattered with broad rocks and framed by pines. A narrow waterfall spilled between the stones nearby, feeding the river below with a soothing rush.
At the edge of the clearing stood a wooden platform built out over the slope, a simple place meant for pausing, breathing, and taking in the view. From there, the river wound through the trees in ribbons of light, catching the last glow of the evening sky.
Lia moved to the edge, drawn to it. The final light traced her silhouette in warm outlines as she stood there, hands tucked into the sleeves of Noah’s hoodie, taking in the hush of it all: the water, the colors, the way the world seemed suspended at that precise hour between day and night.
It felt like one of those rare moments you didn’t want to touch for fear of breaking it.
She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs. She couldn’t contain her smile. She felt happy.
So deeply, simply happy.
She turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder to share that happiness with him.
“Noah, it’s so beau–”
She expected to find him right there.
Expected to meet his October eyes and see her own wonder reflected back at her.
But he wasn’t standing behind her.
He was kneeling.
And in his hands, held open toward her, was a small box containing a ring.
yesterday I had friends over and one of my friends is extremely ticklish, but we were doing something where she had to keep her hands up but she was afraid of us tickling her so another one of my friends goes "you realize that if you expect people to tickle you, it actually makes you more ticklish?" MY I WONDER WHAT WENT THROUGH MY MIND RIGHT THEN AND THERE
so i know lots of people have already talked about the NOT-VERY-SUBTLE TRANS ALLEGORIES surrounding gwen and her arc in atsv, and i know we’ve all seen the “protect trans kids” poster in her room
but after i watched the movie in the theatre myself i couldnt stop thinking about how i was SO SURE that gwen had a trans patch on one of her jackets, too. so i found a cam recording somewhere i don’t really remember cough cough AND GUESS WHAT
[ID: A screenshot from Across The Spiderverse. Gwen’s dad stands in the opening to the kitchen, and in the foreground are his police hat and police jacket. The jacket has his badges and a trans flag. End ID.]
THIS IS DEFINITELY WHAT I SAW!!! except....this isn’t gwen’s jacket. it’s her dad’s jacket!
and i’m just saying. even the symbolism aside, you COULD just brush off the poster in her room as an allyship thing or whatever. if you wanna squint really hard
but the fact that her dad, specifically, also has a trans patch on his police jacket? i think that says a lot
