#oocdrabbles

[aureliaxapfel]

you remind me of a tragedy, but i prefer you that way

( love, told in three parts )

                                          amos & aurelia

i. ask me to describe this love in two words, and i’ll tell you: toxic acidity

When Aurelia Theodosia Apfel is born into this world, she sees it in black and white. For a long time, she thinks nothing of it. The world has always been black, white, and varying shades of gray to her, so it doesn’t bother her. She still thinks there’s a beauty in the monochromatic image that greets her every time she opens her eyes.

She’s four years old when she hears her parents describing their new house. In color. Colors that she’s only ever heard of, but has never seen. Reds and blues and greens, hues and shades that they can somehow see. And for a while after that, she’s afraid. Afraid that she’s different from those around her. Afraid that there’s something wrong with her.

When she shares this fear with her parents, they laugh, though it’s not an unkind gesture. “No, Theo,” her mother soothes, brushing hair behind the child’s ear. “You’re perfect, baby girl. You just haven’t found them yet.” That night, as she goes to bed, her parents tell her a story of soulmates. Only when you meet yours – only when you touch them – will the world appear in color. It seems impossible to her – the idea of having some sort of condition that makes the world appear in monochromes makes a lot more sense, even to her four year old mind – but it excites her, nonetheless. She goes to bed that night, and prays to one day find her soulmate.

She’s eight years old when she meets Bishop Villegas. He’s three years older than her, and he’s pretty funny, and protective. He has long hair and a wicked smile, and something in Aurelia pulls her towards him. She thinks that he might be her soulmate, but whenever she touches him, she doesn’t see anything new. There are no new colors, no wonder or beauty that she hasn’t already seen a thousand times.

One day, he tells her that he’s been seeing the world in color for as long as he can remember. “Sometime back in pre-school,” he tells her distractedly, brushing her hair back for her. He has an older sister, and a baby sister, too, and he’s better at doing her hair than she is. “I don’t remember who it was, though.”

“Do you miss them,” she finds herself asking. She doesn’t know if she wants to know the answer.

Bishop is silent for a few minutes. He sets down the brush, and starts to braid her hair. “Sometimes,” he finally answers, his voice quiet; she wonders if this some secret he’s always kept. She wonders why he’s telling her. “I can… feel them, you know? Every time they’re hurt, or sad, or just… worn out. I can feel that. And sometimes, I want to be there for them. I think… I don’t know, they’d feel better if I were.”

Aurelia does understand. She feels her soulmate, too. She’s never met them, but she can feel every mood, every ache and pain. Once, she had seen through their eyes. It was only for a few moments, when they were having an anxiety attack, but she had been right there with them. She only nods, and prompts, “But?”

“But,” he continues, “sometimes, I kind of hate it. Being tied to someone like this. I don’t want to share someone else’s life. And I doubt they want to share mine, either. Sometimes I think it’d be easier to share if I knew them, but other times… I don’t know. I think it’d just make me angrier.”

Aurelia weighs his words for a few moments, before finally asking, “Would you hate them? If you did know them?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. In fact, by the time he does answer, her hair is braided back in an elegant fishtail, and all of the brushes, rubber bands, and headbands have been returned to their respective places. It’s when she gets up to leave that he finally murmurs, “I don’t know. That might be the scariest part.”

She moves to Milwaukee when she turns thirteen. Bishop – sixteen hers old, strong and independent as ever, playing dad to all of his siblings, no matter how much they tell him to chill – hugs her tight, kisses her on the forehead, tells her to stay safe out there. Her friend, Julianne, hugs her briefly and tells her to keep kicking ass and taking names. The rest of her friends – few as they are – give her kinder farewells, but those are the ones that matter the most to her.

Those are the ones that keep her from crying on the plane, and on the way to her new home, and when she’s lying in bed in her new room. She holds onto them, crying out to Bishop and Julianne, if only in her mind. She knows they don’t hear, knows that they aren’t her soulmates, but she aches for them, anyway. And she sends a silent apology to whoever is on the other side of this link. She apologizes profusely for the pain that they must feel, hopes that it doesn’t hurt as much as all of the times she’s felt their pain. She tries to stamp down on the pain of the move and the loneliness, but it’s still there, and no amount of willpower wishes that away.

Her father finds her crying in the middle of the night, and he wraps his arms around her. “Oh, Theo,” he whispers into her hair, pressing a tender kiss there. “It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” She wonders if he means the pain of the move, or the pain of missing her friends, or the pain of needing a soulmate.

Whatever he means, she’s glad for it. She keeps crying into his arms, finding comfort in the fact that there’s someone on the other side, somewhere, feeling the same pain. She hopes that they feel the same comfort, but doesn’t bank on it.

She makes sure to touch every person she meets. She’s casual about it, and careful, at the same time. She takes time, being sure not to make them uncomfortable. She’s sure that at least half of them see through her, if their pitying smiles are anything to go by. Of the dozens of people she meets in her time in Milwaukee, not a single one of them brings color to her world.

It’s disappointing, but she expects no less. She stops looking for the one, a fact that makes her parents’ hearts hurt, she knows, and instead looks for friends. She ignores those who pity her, but not those who are fortunate enough to have found their other halves. She listens to their stories of love – romantic or otherwise – and of hatred, because not every soulmate is the one you want. Those stories make her happy. They give her hope; maybe it’s a good thing that she hasn’t found the one, yet. Maybe the world will always be the same three colors, but at least she’ll be happy.

That’s the lie she tells herself, anyway. It… isn’t as convincing as she wants to pretend it is.

When she’s fifteen years old, her parents die.

The bank that they’re in is robbed, and they end up being casualties of war, and she becomes an orphan. She doesn’t have any close family, or any family friends who are close enough for her to live with. She sits at the police station, tear tracks staining her cheeks, wondering what the hell she’s going to do now, when her phone rings.

The caller ID tells her that it’s Julianne, and she damn near breaks down into tears again. She wonders how the other girl knows; she hasn’t been able to call anyone yet. She’s just getting over the shock of everything. Before she answers, she realizes that there’s no way Julianne could know, so she must be calling for a completely different reason. She sucks it up, and answers anyway. “H-hey,” she croaks, cursing her voice for breaking the way it does.

Luckily, Julianne doesn’t notice. “Aur! I found him!”

Aurelia blinks. “You… found who?”

“My soulmate,” Julianne clarifies, sounding more excited than she’s been in the six years that Aurelia has known her. “I was just walking through town square, Aur, and I found him.”

And it’s horrible and selfish of Aurelia, but that’s the last thing she wants to hear. And the fact that Julianne doesn’t get that, doesn’t see that now isn’t the time, it infuriates her. Even so, she paints on a smile. “That’s great, Julie,” she says, trying her hardest to be as sincere as possible. “You have to tell me all about it. Just.. not now, okay?”

On the other end of the line, Julianne pauses. “Of course. Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Aurelia lies. And she doesn’t know why she does it. She just can’t find it in herself to rain on Julianne’s parade. Julianne has never cared much for soulmates, but this guy must be something if he’s made her this excited. And Aurelia can’t be the one to ruin that. “I just have this cold, and I fought with my parents, and…” If she chokes up there, she can blame it on her supposed cold.

“Okay,” Julianne accepts, though it doesn’t sound like she completely believes it. “Get better, okay? And, hey, I know what it’s like to fight with your parents. It doesn’t last forever. You guys will be back to being best friends in no time.”

It takes everything in Aurelia not to cry then, because that’s the thing – they won’t. “Y-yeah,” she agrees, biting down hard on her lip to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She hangs up before she can break into tears again.

She doesn’t remember calling Bishop, but by the time dawn breaks, he’s storming into the station like a man possessed. He wraps his arms around her, letting her scream into his chest. The officers pass by, giving her pitying looks, but they don’t say anything. Bishop takes her home after some time, and she cries herself to sleep. When she wakes up, he’s packed enough stuff to get her back to Lima. “You’re going to stay with us for a while,” he explains, holding her hands in his. “Freya, Twitch, and I are all over the age of eighteen. We can have legal guardianship over you for a while – just until you can find a better home, or a relative you want to stay with. We…” He must run out of things to say, because he never finishes.

Numbly, Aurelia nods. “Okay.”

“Aur…” He takes a deep breath. “Your dad… he didn’t die on the spot. There was a baby… His parents were killed, too, and your dad… he was going to…”

“We’ll take him with us,” she decides, not bothering to hear him stumble through the rest of it. She already knows where he’s going with this. What do you want to do about it, he means to say. “We… I’ll take care of him.”

Bishop’s brows furrow, and he shakes his head. “Auri, no. You’re only fifteen, you can’t–”

“And you’re eighteen. You can take legal guardianship. Just until I’m old enough to take him by myself. We can’t… Bishop, I can’t…” She bites her lips, and tears come without restraint. She can’t say it, but she can see in her eyes that he gets it. She’s left alone with no parents, and no home, and she can’t leave this baby in this same state. Her parents died trying to give this baby a home, and she won’t let it go without.

Bishop nods, a look of understanding on his face. “Okay.”

They make the decision not to tell anyone.

Bishop is less than approving, and Freya is even less, but they respect her decision. She doesn’t want anyone to pity her for losing her parents, or to try to take her in. They make up this lie that she and Bishop are the reason that Milo is an orphan. They keep it vague, and no one asks. Everyone probably assumes that there was a car accident, or some sort of legal altercation. They don’t care to ask.

And if anyone wonders where Aurelia’s parents are, they sure as hell don’t ask.

Aurelia thinks that Bishop and his family – and maybe even she, herself – are waiting for someone to ask. They’re waiting for someone to notice that someone is wrong. If not Julianne, then one of Aurelia’s new friends: River, or Cassie, or Declan, or someone. They’re all waiting for someone to realize that Aurelia is here, and she’s living with the Villegas family, and no one has ever mentioned her family. They wait for someone to realize that the story is incomplete, but no one ever does.

She lies to herself and says that it’s better that way.

(That lie falls apart, however, when she has a breakdown and ruins her hand. The hand that she needed to get a scholarship to Julliard. Freya holds her tight, and then drives her to the hospital.

They never talk about it after that, but they all know, without a doubt, that Aurelia’s falling apart, too.)

Julianne’s sixteenth birthday comes with a bit of a flourish.

Stephen and Carli – her brother and sister – try to get her to have a big party, though they pretty much all know that she won’t accept it. She isn’t the type of girl who enjoys parties, or social activities, or anything like that. She doesn’t even want to spend time with Stephen’s friends, the pack or something, but shoos her brother away so that he can spend time with them. He argues that he’d rather spend the day with her, but she knows it’s a lie. Instead, she calls over her best friends and her boyfriend, and has a movie night with them.

Aurelia – with a messed up hand and an overwhelming amount of anxiety – arrives last. Pohai, Carli, Cassie, and Jason are all there and seated by the time she gets there. Though Julianne is definitely the best friend she has here, she’s amicable enough with all of them so that she slightly relaxes at the sight of them.

Then Julianne’s boyfriends exits the bathroom. “Oh,” he blinks after they’re introduced. A wide grin spreads across his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And that’s that. They make themselves comfortable on the couch; Jason sits on one end, and he playfully pulls Cassie down into his lap. Carli curls up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Pohai takes the love seat on the side, wrapping a blanket tight around her shoulders. Amos takes the opposite end of the couch, throwing his arm around the back, and Julianne curls into him, leaving the only open spot being between Carli and Julianne. Aurelia doesn’t think before she takes it. She simply curls up next to her best friend, enjoying the warmth of being surrounded by people she’s mostly comfortable with. She tucks her cold feet behind Carli’s back, drawing a laugh from the girl.

She makes herself comfortable, leaning against Julianne. All she does, really, is shift just an inch, without even meaning to, and she brushes against Amos’ thumb.

And the world explodes into color. Previously dull colors are now a vibrant and beautiful palette. Julianne’s hair is brown, and Carli’s skin is dark, and Pohai’s hair is white, and the people on the television screen have black hair, and blonde hair, and green eyes. It’s a surreal experience, and she struggles to take it all in.

“Rella?” She looks up, meeting Pohai’s concerned eyes. “You okay, babe?”

No. No, she’s most definitely not okay. Her soulmate is Julianne’s soulmate. She’s tethered to her best friend’s boyfriend, and she has no chance of cutting it. Instead of saying that, she just smiles and says, “Yeah.”

Aurelia knows without a shadow of a doubt that Amos is her soulmate.

She knows with equal certainty that she isn’t his.

She chances a glance at him once after her revelation, but he’s deeply engrossed in a conversation with Julianne. He looks at her like she’s the sun, the stars, the moon, and the one who hung them, and Julianne gives him the same look. But when he looks at Aurelia, he just gives her a polite smile, before looking away again.

It feels incredibly cramped on the couch now, and she can’t take it. When she moves to get up from the couch, she’s met with concerned looks. “Are you leaving,” Julianne asks, frowning up.

“No,” Aurelia denies quickly, even though she should. She should leave, should go back to Bishop’s house, and pretend as though she never felt anything at all. “Just getting on the floor. There are too many of us on the couch, it’s just…” She doesn’t finish, just starts to get on the floor, when a hand wraps around her wrist. And it’s impossible, and it’s horrible, really, but she already knows who the hand belongs to.

“Hey, no,” Amos says, pulling her back onto the couch. “I can get on the floor, okay? You should stay on the couch.”

“It’s fine,” she presses, pulling her hand back. She does it slowly, gently, so that it doesn’t feel like she’s snapping at him, or being rude in any way. “I don’t mind.”

He gives her a look. “No, seriously–”

“Oh my god,” Jason groans, running a hand over his face. “We all fit. There’s no reason for anyone to get on the floor. And if you’re really uncomfortable, Aur, I can go grab the beanbag from Juju’s room.”

Julianne nods, locking eyes with Aurelia. “Do you want him to?” It’s clear in her eyes what she wants Aurelia to say. She wants her to say that it’s fine, that they’re all fine, but she expects the opposite.

Aurelia purposely doesn’t look at Amos when she says, “No. It’s… it’s fine. I’m fine.”

She not. She hasn’t been; not in a while. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Julianne’s brother gets this (horrible) idea to drag Aurelia to his pack parties. Julianne goes without complaint, as does Carli, and the three McKiney-Lowe kids have little dificulty pulling her with them. The fact that Twitch’s girlfriend, Wendy, is coming makes her a bit less reluctant to go, but she’s still uncomfortable, nonetheless.

Wendy smiles kindly at her, keeping a loose hold on her uninjured hand. Aurelia had told the redhead the truth almost immediately after meeting her. There’s something undeniably kind, and trustworthy in her smile. “People see me and think I’m some airhead rich girl,” she had said upon meeting Aurelia. “I’m not that girl, I promise.”

Not even five minutes later, Aurelia was spilling her guts to Wendy. She hadn’t hesitated to promise to keep it secret – even from her own sister and friends – and hadn’t shown an ounce of pity. Being able to tell someone the truth, without having to worry about pity or fake sympathies lifted a weight off of Aurelia’s chest; one she had previously been ignoring.

Having Wendy here made it a bit easier to breathe, despite the anxiety that came from being around so many strangers.

As it turns out, she had no reason to fear. In less than an hour, she’s laughing, bumping into the pack members without a care. Her laughter is abruptly cut when she feels arms wrap around her waist. “No,” she gasps, trying to wiggle out of Kellan’s hold. “Put me down! Kellan Aldridge, put me down!”

Marilyn rolls her eyes, pulling out of her embrace with Tatum. “Kellan, she’s only been here for an hour. Don’t throw her in the pool, or you’re going to scare her off.”

Kellan seems less than happy about it, but he sets Aurelia down with an apology, and whirls around to snap at his snickering best friends.

Ariel shakes her head fondly, making her way to Aurelia. “Ignore the pups,” she advises, a beautiful smile set on her lips. “Help me take these inside?”

She doesn’t think before she agrees. “These,” she asks to confirm, gesturing towards the trays on the table in front of them. Ariel nods, and picks up one, and Aurelia picks up the other.

She makes it four steps before her hand locks up. She doesn’t manage to stifle her cry of pain, nor does she manage to keep her hold on the platter. It clatters to the ground, food scattering every which way. She grits her teeth to hold back tears – tears of pain and humiliation – and keeps her head down as she cradles her hand to her chest. She’s painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on her, and she’s more than aware of how much food she just wasted. All because she didn’t think. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m so sorry, I…”

Ariel and Ella exchange a glance, and Ella crosses the short distance to Aurelia. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she mutters, placing a comforting hand on the younger’s girl arm. Behind her, Ariel, Chandler, and Caleb bend down to pick up the fallen food. “It’s okay. Is your hand okay?”

Aurelia chances a glance up at her, eyes lined with tears, and she takes a breath. “It’s fine,” she lies. “It just…” Won’t stop shaking, yet it won’t move. “It’s fine,” she says again.

“Let’s go put some ice on it,” Wendy suggests, placing an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Come on. I might have some pain pills in my purse.” And it isn’t necessarily a lie; she probably does have pain pills in her purse. But they both know she has Aurelia’s bottle of medication in there, too, prescribed specifically for her hand. “It’s okay. No one’s mad at you. It’s okay.”

Aurelia keeps her head down, allowing herself to be ushered inside. Wendy continues muttering reassurances, and Aurelia keeps her tears at bay. She almost breathes a sigh of relief when they reach the inside of the house, but it’s cut when she hears Julianne from behind her. “What the hell was that?”

Aurelia flinches. “Juli–”

“Don’t,” the smaller teen snaps. “You’ve been hiding a lot from me, and I’ve been fine pretending that I don’t notice. But don’t you dare try to tell me that nothing happened out there.”

Wendy steps forward. “Julianne, I really don’t think now is the time.”

The smaller brunette’s eyes snap to Wendy, and her jaw clenches in a subtle way. Most people wouldn’t be able to decode that look, but Aurelia can. She knows her best friend far too well not to. Julianne is far too stubborn and prideful to admit to something this silly, but Aurelia knows that look too well.

She’s jealous. Jealous that Wendy knows something that she doesn’t; jealous that Aurelia has chosen to confide in someone she’s known for a few months, rather than someone she’s known for most of her life. Aurelia wants more than anything to soothe her nerves, but there’s no way she can. If she opens up about her hand, she’ll have to tell the truth about her parents and Milo, and she’ll be lucky if she can keep from spilling about Amos. Not even Wendy, or Bishop, or anyone knows about that, and Aurelia will be damned if she lets it slip now.

Even so. Even so, she can’t just leave things like this. Not with Julianne. She puts her free hand on Wendy’s arm, giving the redhead a grateful smile, before looking to Julianne. “I, um… when I moved back, I felt a little overwhelmed with everything, and I…” She lifts her shaking hand, and shrugs. “I didn’t want to make you worry. Wendy’s dating Bishop’s brother, remember? She comes over a lot, so..” She shrugs again, as if Wendy found out by accident. As if she just happened to walk in on Aurelia taking her medicine, and that was that.

It couldn’t be further from the truth, but it relaxes Julianne. She nods slowly. “Are you…” She meets Aurelia’s eyes, and the concern there is uncharacteristically open. Guilt eats at Aurelia’s heart for her lies, but she swallows it down. This is for the best. “Your cello…”

“Oh,” Aurelia breathes, as if she’d forgotten about that. “I’m taking physical therapy for it. It’s… helping.”

It’s a lie. Physical therapy doesn’t help; not in the least. She’s too busy trying to put distance between herself and her therapist, who – to his credit –tries not to be a perv. He’s twice her age, and makes it obvious that he isn’t interested in banging fifteen year olds. Even so, his touches sometimes linger, and there are times when his gaze darkens with what she fears is lust before he carefully covers it.

Julianne’s eyes are piercing, and Aurelia has no doubt that she doesn’t believe her.

At the time, though, she has no idea just how much.

“This is unnecessary.”

Amos frowns, while Julianne rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Aurelia stresses, folding her arms over her chest. She risks a glance at Amos, before hurriedly looking away. “I was fine with my last therapist.”

“Your last therapist scared you,” her companions chorus. Amos continues, his voice dull, yet laced with barely concealed rage, “You literally ran out of your last therapy session in tears because you thought he was trying to feel you up.”

A blush colors her cheeks, and Aurelia looks to the ground. “I am literally never telling you two anything again.”

Amos chuckles, taking her hands in his. It takes everything in her not to jerk away, and let her lead him towards Julianne’s bedroom. “I’m glad you told us,” he admits. “And I’m glad Julianne asked me to do this.” Without even seeming to realize it, he started massaging his thumbs into her hands. “I’m not an expert at this,” he confesses, an almost apologetic tilt to his lips. “But I’ve dealt with messed up hands before. And even if I can’t bring you back to total health, you can trust that I won’t try to cop a feel while your hands are healing.” He pauses, and for a moment, her heart stops, though she isn’t quite sure why. “You do trust me, right?”

Every morsel of her very being screams at her to say no, to take the loophole she’s been presented, and get the hell out. Instead, she finds herself mutterings a breathless, “Yes.”

And dammit if his smile doesn’t make her foolishness worth it.

“You have beautiful hair.”

Tabitha’s nose scrunches up, and she tosses another fry into her mouth. “That’s such a weird thing to say,” she says, swallowing the salty delicacy. Taking a detour through the McDonald’s drive thru probably wasn’t the best idea on the day of Aurelia’s Super Huge Very Big And Important Recital (as Lily had titled it), but half of them had slept in – a result of game night at Percy’s – and none of them had eaten breakfast. It doesn’t really matter. Aurelia isn’t exactly rushing to be on stage again; she’d much rather be hidden in the back corner of Lily’s SUV than on that stage, having a breakdown.

Duke rolls his eyes at his girlfriend, taking a chicken nugget from Aurelia’s lap. She doesn’t know why he’s chosen to sit in the very back with her, instead of in the row ahead with Tabitha and Wendy, but she’s glad for the company. Even if he does devour all of her chicken nuggets. “It’s not weird,” Duke argues.

“Kind of weird,” Wendy sides, not looking up from her phone. Twitch is supposed to be meeting them at the theater – seeing as Lily invited literally everyone in Aurelia’s life, without so much as asking – but had somehow forgotten to set his GPS or MapQuest it. (In short, he just needs a reason to text Wendy while he forces Freya to drive.) “But also kind of sweet.”

Percy – who’s driving, while Lily fiddles with the radio – glances up in the mirror, before looking back to the road. “I agree with Duke, actually,” he says, as they drive past a shopping complex. “Your hair looks marvelous, Aurelia.”

Aurelia blushes, looking down to her lap, but Lily snorts. “Who the fuck says marvelous? You’re not British.”

“Remind me again why I’m dating you.”

Aurelia and her hair are forgotten as the couple dissolves into thinly veiled flirting, but her smile doesn’t leave. In the month following Amos’ induction as her rehab director -- or whatever he’s supposed to be -- it’s gotten a lot easier to use her hand. Thankfully, he hasn’t asked what happened to it in the first place, and he doesn’t seem too curious. He’s taught her how to play guitar, shown her how to play some of his songs – because, yes, that’s her life; her soulmate is pop star, of all things – and given her so many compliments, she’s almost managed to fool herself into thinking he might actually think she’s cute.

Except, she knows that’s not it. She knows that all of his compliments are just a result of his own altruism. He wants to boost her confidence, so he throws words like beautiful and talented at her. She knows they’re empty.

Duke’s hand misses the tray of nuggets entirely, and lands on her knee. When she looks at him, he doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. He gives her a sad smile, as if he can hear her thoughts, and squeezes her knee encouragingly. “You’re going to be fine,” he swears. And it’s not you’re going to do great, or everything will be fine. It’s a promise that she will be fine, and she’s left to wonder how much he’s figured out. They spend so much time together, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to know anything, or even everything.

Instead of asking, she just wraps her hands around his, and reminds herself to breathe.

There is nothing like being in the spotlight.

It’s a beautiful thing, actually. It doesn’t highlight the fact or feeling of every eye in the room being trained on you. It doesn’t make every nerve in your body tense up until movement is a laughable notion. The light is sucked out of the rest of the room, drowning the world around you in darkness. When the spotlight shines on you, the only thing you can see is the space two, three feet ahead of you.

It’s you and your instrument.

Aurelia and her cello.

Her heartbeat slows to a manageable drum when the lights go off, and she can finally breathe. In the seconds before the accompaniment starts the song, she inhales. Everyone she knows is there. She saw them walk through the door. Dashiell, Oliver, Milo, and the Villegas family. The rebellion. Brielle and her friends (and teacher). Some of the members of the pack. Jason and Luna. Cassie and her group of friends. Julianne. Amos.

Her parents’ absence hits so strongly, it brings a fresh sting of tears to her eyes, and she’s forced to push them back.

Then, the piano starts, and her moment is over. She exhales, and starts to play.

She may not be able to see them, but she can feel the weight of their gazes on her. She can feel every eye that’s trained on her, can hear every murmur that leaves the lips of her enraptured audience. She feels every breath that’s drawn, feels it like it’s her own.

The song isn’t even halfway through when her hand starts hurting. The pain is dull, at first, and she forces herself to push through it. If therapy with Amos hasn’t taught her anything else, it’s taught her how to push through the pain. So she continues to play, feeling the song resonate in her spirit. She closes her eyes, the way her mother used to do when she played the violin, and she makes herself forget.

She forgets that everyone is watching her. She forgets that her best friends have taken time out of their days, time when they could be spending with each other, to be here for her. She forgets that Julianne’s hand is probably gripping Amos’ right now, wallowing in his love, ignorant to the turmoil that Aurelia experiences with every moment they spend together. She forgets that her soulmate is her best friend’s soulmate, and has no idea how she feels, or what she knows. She forgets that everyone she loves is in love, and they’re happy, and she doesn’t have that. She forgets that her parents are dead, and she has no one to talk to about this, because it’s no one’s problem but her own. She forgets that at the end of the day, she’s alone, and there’s no changing that.

Tries to, anyway.

When she opens her eyes, the song is over and tears threaten to fall from her eyes. The audience applauds, and she hears a few cat calls and wolf whistles, and she forces a smile to her face as she stands to bow. The pianist takes her cello from her hand, and she smiles gratefully as she walks off stage. She doesn’t know what happened to her cello; she doesn’t care.

She makes it to her dressing room and decidedly does not cry.

Aurelia finds out very quickly that Monty cannot bake.

"This isn’t funny,” he grumbles, egg yolk dripping from his fingers. And, okay, maybe it isn’t supposed to be funny. He had asked her to teach him to bake a cake, and she had promised that she would. Baking is something that she was good at before her accident. She and her parents used to bake every Saturday, as a family bonding sort of experience. She hasn’t done it since their passing, but when Monty had asked, she had refused to reject him simply because of what could never be again. And he had been so serious about baking, she was sure it would go smoothly.

It did not.

She has to grasp the counter, wheezing as tears pour from her eyes. Laughter shakes her entire frame, and she doesn’t even jump when he tosses flour at her. She just laughs harder, marveling at the sight of him covered in flour and egg, a grimace marring his face. “I’ll stop,” she gasps, standing up straight again. More giggles escape her lips, and she places her hand on his chest, biting her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to keep from laughing again. “We’re not done, okay? We – we have more eggs, we…” She has to stop to laugh again because they’re at egg number four now, and he genuinely has no idea how to crack one without getting it all over the place.

“You’re the opposite of helpful,” he notes, and she bursts into laughter again. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“I do,” she giggles. “I do, I promise. And I’ll be better.” She laughs some more, until she realizes how silent he is. She looks back up at him, blinking at the pensive look on his face. A final laugh escapes her, and she tips her head at him. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mutters, reaching for another egg.

She rolls her eyes. “Monty,” she stresses, turning him to face her. She gives him a firm look. “It’s not nothing. What? Are you upset that I laughed? Because I’m not apologizing.”

His lips twitch. “I didn’t expect you to. And it’s not that, it’s…” He shrugs. “I’ve never seen you laugh like that before.”

She pauses. “Really?”

Monty nods slowly. “You’ve lived with us for about a year now, and you rarely ever laugh. Even with Wendy and the others, you always seem…” He goes quiet for a moment, searching a word to fill the gap. “…withdrawn, I guess. And I get that. Anyone in your shoes would be, probably. It’s just…”

Her breath halts, and she finds herself anxiously waiting for whatever comes next.

He shrugs again, and smiles at her. “It’s nice to see you smile. For real.”

And she finds herself agreeing with him. It’s been too long since she’s laughed this way. What with her parents dying, and taking in Milo, and everything with Amos, she hasn’t had much reason to smile. And when she had agreed to bake with Monty, she had expected it to be a more emotional struggle. She had expected tears and heartache, expected to feel an obvious void that couldn’t be filled in her heart where her parents used to be. But for the first time in over a year, she’s laughed her heart out, and she feels… lighter for it. As if an impossible weight has been lifted off her chest, now allowing room for something else.

When she looks up again, the world seems a bit brighter.

And if Freya walks into the kitchen to find her wrapping flour coated around Monty as tears of relief sting at her eyes, she just smiles warmly, and walks back out.

It’s about time.

Her new found happiness lasts about a week before the next big thing happens.

Game night with the Villegas family is always an experience. She’s no longer allowed to participate in board games – you flip a table one time – and Monty and Bishop are always very likely to start fighting when video games got involved. Granted, they’re leagues better than Duke and Tabitha – who take their cutthroat competitiveness to a whole new level when any form of Mario gets involved – but still. It’s always a risk.

It’s probably why Twitch chooses a very harmless game of Twister for the night. Last week was Scattegories, and more than a little bit of blood was shed. Once Ryker finally left, cop car lights finally shut off, they had unanimously agreed never to do that again. Twister is the halcyon replacement, but Aurelia gives it about an hour before one of them finds some way to get this one banned, too.

Dash chooses to be the caller – “I can see a dozen ways this can go south, and I don’t want any part of it.” – and Bishop swears with no shortage of vigor that he will be King of Twister. Twitch just shoves him and tells Dash to call the first circle.

They’re on the second game, in a very compromising position. Aurelia – who’s sort of admitted to meeting her soulmate, but never saying who – Wendy, Bishop and Monty are the only ones left on the board, and there’s very little space left between their bodies. Aurelia can’t even laugh, for fear of collapsing, and she has to shuffle her foot two spaces down to reach the green circle Bishop’s hand occupies.

Then the headache hits.

“Ah,” she gasps, crashing to her knees. Her hand reaches to her head, and she winces.

“Aurelia?” Someone drops to their knees beside her – Freya – and a hand lands on the small of her back. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” Aurelia winces, starting to stand. “I just h – ah!” The crippling pain that hits then is all consuming, stealing her voice away. She falls back to the ground, knees colliding with the ground and nothing to soften the impact. She’s blinded in agony and, for a moment, the world is devoured in pure white.

When color comes back, her world is unfocused and different. She’s not in the living room of the Villegas residence, anymore, but in a spacious, empty room of some sort. The world tilts, and she flashes back to the Villegas house. Her head bangs against the floor, and she’s back in the empty room. A guitar clatters to the ground next to her, a hand and watch falling into her line of vision, then it all disappears, and dots of color float in her sight.

“Amos,” she whispers through her gasps. Hands grab at her, but she forces herself to her feet. “I have to get to him,” she tries to say to them, stumbling to the couch, but the pain in her head is too blinding. She flashes back to Amos, the world turned sideways, blurring more and more with every second that passes. “I have to…”

Amos’ vision goes black, and she’s pushed back to the chaos of her own home.

It’s lucky that Bishop’s arms are around her, because not a second later, her eyes roll to the back of her head, and the world is swallowed in blessed darkness.

Amos is awake. Of all of the possibilities she’d run through in her mind, this – foolishly – had not been one of them. When she convinced Bishop’s family that she was fine, and on her way to the hospital, and when she was talking to the receptionist, she had not accounted for the fact that he might be awake.

But he is, and she’s seriously considering going home.

She’s about to step back out when his eyes land on her. “Hey, beautiful,” he breathes, a smile breaking onto his face. Her heart crumbles with that smile, but she returns it, taking a step into the room, her grip tightening on the straps of her gift bag. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she starts, finding the least direct way to answer that. “This guy I know is in the hospital, so I figured I could come say hi.”

Amos chuckles, shaking his head at her evasiveness. There’s no way he doesn’t see what she’s doing, but she doesn’t have an answer other than I felt your brain explode, and had to come see you, and that just won’t cut it. “Come here,” he beckons softly, grinning at her. And because she’s terrible and unable to resist him, she finds herself stepping closer to the bed, her nails digging into her palms. When she’s close enough, he takes one of her hands, tugging her down until she’s sitting on the bed. “How’d you know?”

“Stephen called,” she lies, internally wincing. She never meant to drag anyone else into this, but it’s too late to take it back. “He told me about your…”

“Aneurysm,” he finishes for her. “They said I had an aneurysm.” His smile fades, and a sorrowful frown replaces it. “Julianne felt when it happened. She had to feel all of that. They wouldn’t have found me if she hadn’t, but I can’t believe she had to go through that. I never thought this soulmate thing would hurt her like that.”

And suddenly Aurelia is reminded again that no matter what she feels, and how much she wants him, he belongs to Julianne. Their hearts are tied together in a way that Aurelia doesn’t fit into. Julianne feels every ache and pain, every sleepless night, every happy moment Amos experiences, and he feels hers. They share their happy moments, and when they’re unhappy, they aren’t afraid to call each other and ease the pain. It’ll always be Amos and Julianne. It will never be Amos and Aurelia, and though she’s always known that, the cold reminder leaves her feeling dizzy, and for a moment she’s afraid she’ll be sick.

“He mentioned,” Aurelia lies. She can’t paint a smile on anymore, so she glances away from him. “I should go check on her.” Julianne is actually the last person she plans on seeing, but it’s an easy out. So she puts the gift bag on Amos’ bed and starts to stand, before his hand wraps around hers again.

“Hey,” he calls, but she keeps her eyes on the door. “Can you look at me?”

Something in her doesn’t allow her to deny him anything, so she glances his way, even though it’s the last thing she wants to do.

His eyebrows knit together, and he gives her a concerned look. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“No.” Yes. “I just… I wasn’t thinking.” I shouldn’t be here. “Julianne felt your brain explode, and she…” She’s your soulmate. She’s your finish line. “She could probably use a friend right now.” If I have to stand here any longer, I might cry, so please just let me go.

Amos studies her for a moment. “Can I ask for something?”

God, why? “Anything,” she swears, turning to face him completely.

“Can I have a hug?” His lips kick into a half-smile. “It’s been a rough day, and I could use one…”

And I’m convenient. The thought hurts more than it should, but she paints on another smile for him, and scoots closer. She’s mindful of the wires and tubes attached to him, finding a way to wrap her arms around him without disconnecting anything. He embraces her, his scent engulfing her in spite of the antiseptic that odors the room. She can’t resist the urge to be selfish for just a moment, and she turns her head into his chest. She allows his steady heartbeat, and his strong and spicy scent to calm her, flooding her senses in a way she’s only ever imagined. The need to cry hits her, but she pushes it back. She’s so damn sick of crying; over her parents, and over her hand, and definitely over Amos.

She’s so sick of it all.

A moment later, she pulls out of his embrace, and gives him a slightly realer smile. “Get better, okay?”

“Yeah,” he agrees distractedly, as if he’s hearing her from far away, despite staring right at her. He smiles then, placing a hand on her cheek. “Thanks, Aurelia.”

She’s always hated it when he says her name. Hated it, maybe, because of how much she loves it.

Bishop is livid.

Some part of her has always expected him to be. She doesn’t know exactly why he’s reacting this way, but she knew he would. Maybe it’s a protective anger; he’s always been that way. Getting angry for her and those around him; protective before she lost her parents, and infinitely more so since she had. It’s also possible that this is just downright fury at her falling for someone else’s boyfriend.

She wouldn’t blame him if it was.

“Amos Mendes,” he repeats for the fourth time, his hands clenching his coffee mug a bit too tight, “is your… soulmate.”

Tabitha meets her gaze, and there’s a question in her eyes. Do you really want to answer that? As if there’s still time to change her answer and make this all better. But there isn’t. She’s so tired of hiding from them. From the Villegas’ and from the rebellion. She can never tell Julianne, or Amos, or the pack, but she can trust these few people. She can tell them the truth, and she wants to. She doesn’t want to keep lying. She spent months pretending to see the world in dull colors before she’d finally confessed to meeting her soulmate. And maybe not saying who she was tethered to was still a viable option, until she had felt said soulmate have an aneurysm. There was no way they hadn’t heard his name leave her mouth. No way to keep lying to them.

This is for the best, she tells herself. The secrets are eating her up inside, and she can’t take that anymore.

“He is,” she says.

“And you… you felt him… having an aneurysm.”

“I did,” she says, and she sees Percy run a hand over his face.

There’s a fire in Bishop’s eyes, and he sets down the coffee mug. “Does he know?” His voice is cold as steel, hard and empty and unforgiving.

Oh, boy. “He… no. He doesn’t.”

“Goddammit, Aurelia!”

“Bishop, stop,” Twitch demands, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“No!” Bishop shoves his brother off, and rounds back on Aurelia. “You’ve known this guy for seven months, Aurelia. You’ve been hiding this for seven months. And you’ve… you’ve felt everything. Every heartbreak, every sickness, every late night, every joy… you felt him having a fucking aneurysm!”

“That’s hardly his fault,” Aurelia defends, though she doesn’t know why. What is there to defend? Fate being a bitch? The universe taking humor in her misery? No one chooses their soulmate. He knows that. “And even if I didn’t know him, he’d still be my soulmate. I’d still feel those things. And he would still have had an aneurysm, regardless!”

“You think I don’t know that? No, it wouldn’t have changed anything. But if he had any clue what you felt, do you think he would’ve done everything the same?”

She flinches. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes are piercing, and she no longer wants to have this conversation. “Every time you felt your heart breaking… every night you were up restless and lethargic, for seemingly no reason… every minor and major pain… you think he’d be so open in his heartbreak if he knew you were feeling it? You think he’d stay up, night after night, if he knew that someone else was suffering for it?”

She swallows thickly, because she knows the answer to that, just as well as Bishop does. “Julianne is his soulmate,” she says, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “She feels it all, too.”

“That’s different,” Bishop hisses. “It’s different when it’s the person you’re in love with, Aurelia. It’s one thing to share that pain, and the exhaustion with them. That’s something you can talk about the next day, and laugh at in a month. You want to share those experiences with the person you love. You want to share their exhaustion, and their heartache. It’s different, then. But you’re been hurting yourself for almost a year, and for what?”

His eyes beat into her, but she can’t come up with an answer. Everything that he listed off was a shot to the chest, her throat clogging up more and more with every word. She keeps herself from crying, swallowing the vile bitterness that’s come to a head within her, and she forces herself to keep eye contact.

She sees the realization dawn in Bishop’s eyes. “Because you’re in love with him.”

Wendy’s head snaps up.

Aurelia looks away, unable to deny, but unwilling to confess.

“Goddammit, Aurelia,” Bishop repeats, his voice softer but still rough as he crosses the room to her. He pulls her into a hug, and she burrows into him. “Goddammit.”

Amos calls her three days later. He’s still confined to his bed, and can’t even make it downstairs, but he tells her that he needs to see her immediately. She doesn’t think it through when she goes over. She ignores the disapproving look Dash throws her way, and rushes over because Amos has called, and she’s hopeless.

She stands at his front door for fifteen minutes before his dad opens it. “Amos saw you through the window,” he says, giving her a knowing smile. “He said twenty minutes is more than enough time to rethink coming here. He’d come get you himself, but bed rest and whatnot.”

“It’s fine,” Aurelia tells him. She actually likes his dad. He’s the sheriff, and not as lenient as the cops in this town are, but he’s a huge goof ball. He’s never been anything less than warm and welcoming, and Aurelia is grateful. She greets him and his wife before heading up to Amos’ room. She tries to come here as infrequently as possible, but she and Amos have had a few therapy sessions here, so she knows the place by heart.

When she knocks on Amos’ door, he calls for her to enter. When she opens the door, he’s pacing. She’s fairly certain he’s not supposed to be doing that, but she’s in no position to tell him what to do. He stops when he sees her, and he gives her a smile. It’s a watered down version of what she’s used to. “Hey,” he greets weakly. “Close the door?”

“Hi,” she replies quietly, softly pushing the door shut. She stands in front of it, her hand on the knob in case she needs to run. Her heart races at a hundred miles per hour, and she has this horrible feeling that she won’t like what happens here. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, his voice brutal in its softness. “I just – I’m a little confused here.”

“O…kay?” She has no idea what it has to do with her, or why he’s being so cryptic, but she figures it can’t hurt to just go with it. “About what?”

“You.” His face is blank as he says it, and the sense of foreboding strengthens. “You confuse me, Aurelia.”

She tries to take another step away from him, but the door knob is already stabbing her in the back, and she can’t get any further without opening the door and just running. And it isn’t as if he doesn’t have her number, or know where she lives. “Amos…”

“How did you know about my aneurysm?”

Her breath halts, and her heart skips. Not in a good way. “I-I told you,” she mutters, struggling to keep eye contact. “Stephen–”

“–hasn’t heard from you in weeks,” Amos cuts her off, and the only thing keeping her on her feet is the fact that if she falls over, Amos will know. If he doesn’t already. “I talked to him yesterday, and he said the last time he talked to you was on the day of your recital. He hadn’t even thought to call you. He wanted to make sure his sister was okay, and he hadn’t thought to call Declan, let alone you. So I’ll ask again: how did you know?” His tone makes it startlingly clear that he won’t take anything but the truth. She knows that he’ll see through any lie she tries to tell, and will get the truth out of her one way or another.

That doesn’t mean she’ll help.

She looks away from him, but can still feel his eyes boring into her. He calls her name, but she pretends not to hear. She pretends that this isn’t happening. She hears his footsteps coming towards her, and she grits her teeth. Please no. Please don’t.

“Aurelia,” he starts, his voice taking on a tone of desperation. “Did you feel my aneurysm?” She doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at him, but her jaw clenches. It’s answer enough. “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can say.

“You’re sorry?” He sounds angry and betrayed and incredulous, all at once. It’s a terrifying combination. “God -- can you look at me for once?” She flinches at his tone, but complies. “You’ve known... you’ve known since the day we met that we were soulmates, and you d--”

“That you’re my soulmate,” she corrects. “I’m not yours, Amos.”

He falters, but his resolves strengthens in a flash. “How could you not tell me?”

She tilts her head, giving him a strange look. “Why would I? It doesn’t change anything, Amos. It doesn’t mean anything!”

“It does!”

“I’m not your soulmate,” she yells at him. “And, yes, I’ve known since we met. I’ve known for almost a year now, and no, I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t have a reason to. Julianne is your soulmate. She’s your sun and your moon and your stars and I’m--”

“You’re what?” His eyes hold her, and she wonders if he even has the answer to that. “What are you to me?”

It takes a moment before she can figure it out herself. “The girl whose world you colored,” she finally answers, willfully ignoring his sharp intake of breath. “I’m just another girl who... who fell for the pop star. The only difference between me and any girl out there is that by some cruel twist of fate, you’re my soulmate.”

“You’re wrong,” he snaps. “You know the difference between you and every other girl out there? You’re my friend, Aurelia. We’ve spent seven months together. We’ve been through so much, and you... you couldn’t even tell me.”

“What would it have changed, Amos,” she asks tiredly. “What honestly would have been the difference in the past seven months if you’d known?”

“You could’ve come to me,” he tells her. And he sounds weary now. He sounds as if everything she’s felt over the past seven months has hit him in the past seven hours, and it’s left him worse for wear. His eyes are rimmed red and a bit on the puffy side. She wonders if he’s cried, or if he’s just been restless. Part of her already knows. “You... I’m your soulmate, Aurelia.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“No, you haven’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m your soulmate. There’s no one on the other end of your string, Aurelia. There’s no one that--”

“I know that,” she cuts him off. How dare he say she hasn’t noticed? She’s lived sixteen years praying for the love of her life, or the ultimate comforter to be on the other end of her pain. She’s lived the past seven months feeling empty and heartbroken at the prospect of being alone for the rest of her life. She will always feel Amos’ pain. When he dies, she will feel that. But when she’s hurt, and when she dies, no one will feel it. She will be alone. She has dealt with that every minute of every day since his thumb brushed her shoulder.

There is no greater or more painful truth in her story, and he has the audacity to accuse her of not knowing?

“No, you don’t! I’m your soulmate, Aurelia,” Amos says again, as if he’s waiting for something to click. “Maybe I don’t feel your pain the way you feel mine. And maybe I don’t see through your eyes, but you are my friend. I know that you feel alone, but I have always been here. From the moment we met, you had me. Every time that you cried... every time you smiled... every time you felt something, and you ached at the thought of having no one to share it with, you had me. You could’ve come to me. I would have been here. And you never once tried.”

Aurelia tries to speak, but can’t find a response. She realizes with a sinking heart that he’s right. Amos would’ve been there for her. Every night that she cried about being alone, and every night that she missed her parents, and every night she had no idea what to do, he would’ve been there. He would have hugged her, and taken her mind off of it. Amos would have never pushed her away, even if she isn’t his soulmate.

“Did you ever think about that?” He asks, not expecting an answer. He takes a step towards her. “Do you know what it means to be a soulmate? It means that you’re a constant comfort. It means that rain or shine, night or day, hell or high water, you’re there if you’re needed. It means that you are destined to change someone’s life; to walk through life with them. Even if.. even if you’re not my soulmate, I’m yours. I’m made to a part of your life. Don’t you realize that? I’m meant to be there for you. I am sorry that I’m not connected to you the way that you are to me. I..” He laughs mirthlessly, and a tear falls from his eye. “I wish you were my soulmate.”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing. Blood fills her mouth, and tears fall relentlessly. “Amos--”

“I wish you were my soulmate.” He’s in front of her now, just inches separating them. “I wish I could feel your insecurities. I wish I could feel every time your heart ached, and I could just make you smile, and take away every hurt you feel. I wish I could see through your eyes when you got so happy, you could barely keep still. I wish I could feel your heart beating out of your chest every time you saw the person you loved the most. I wish I could be that for you, Aurelia, but I can’t. I can’t and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she chokes out. She tries to breathe as she speaks, tears blurring her vision and clogging her throat. “Because I -- it all hurts so much,” she laughs. “Being alone. Watching everyone around me find happiness, and find their soulmates,and knowing that I -- that I won’t ever have that. I just -- God, Amos, I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t sad. And I don’t want you to feel that. I don’t want you to feel what I do.”

“I do,” he says softly, wiping her tears. “I don’t need a soulmate bond to love you, Aurelia Apfel. Do you hear me? I don’t need to be tied to you to feel something. I love you without being linked, and I loved you way before I knew that I was your soulmate. And I know how sad you are. I don’t know why -- I wish I did. But I know how sad you are. And if I could make that any easier, I would in an instant. That’s what I want, Aurelia. I want to be able to take your pain away, and I want to watch you fall apart; I want you to put your back together. I want to be there every time you find something to make you smile, and every time you love. I want to talk you down, and bring you up. I want to be your soulmate, Aurelia. Let me. Please,” he begs, his hands cupping her cheeks. “Stop... stop holding out on me. Let me in.”

Her throat is dry, and she doesn’t even know where to begin. She can’t tell him how much she wants the same thing. She doesn’t just want someone on the other side of her link. She wants him. She wants his to be the voice that calls when she feels something so strongly, it threatens to swallow her whole. She wants him to be the one to show up at her door at three o’clock in the morning because she refuses to go to sleep. She wants him to hold her when she cries. She wants to tell him about her parents, and about Milo, and about her. She wants him to know who she is. But he can’t, because she-- she isn’t Julianne.

“Julianne,” she croaks, not knowing what else to say.

Amos shakes his head. “She won’t mind,” his thumb runs over her cheek, and she tries not to lean into his touch. “You really have no idea how much she loves you, do you? All she wants is for you to be happy. She wants you to have the soulmate of your dreams, someone who can be... this for you. And if it’s me, she won’t care.”

No. It’s not that easy. Aurelia shakes her head, pulling away. “She’s not just your girlfriend, Amos,” she fights. “She’s your soulmate, too. And you’re hers, that’s -- that’s bigger than this, than me.”

“No, it’s not,” he denies, his voice unrelenting. “I’m both of your soulmates. And maybe I’m linked to her in a special way, but I’m still yours. Don’t you see that? I’m still yours. Just as much as I am hers.” His lips quirk into a small, sad smile. “You can fight me on this all day, Aurelia. I’m not letting you push me away anymore. I’m your soulmate, and I’m going to be that, whether you want me to or not.”

She wants to fight it. She can’t take him from Julianne. She can’t call him at insane hours of the night to share trivial stories that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but seem to be bigger than life in the moment. She can’t be the one that he stands by when the sky falls. She won’t be the one to slant her mouth over his time and time again, simply because she can. She won’t be the one to take him apart with her hands and her lips, and lie with him when the sun falls, and when the only thing that exists under the light of the moon is their bond. She will never have that.

But she will have him. She may not be his love, but she will have him. She’ll have something. And it’s so much better than being alone.

"You’re so sad.”

Aurelia is totally justified in flipping Monty off. Mentally, anyway. She has Milo and Oliver for the day, and only one of them is asleep. She gives Monty a hard look, which he doesn’t seem too fazed by. “You’re a bully.”

“I’m okay with that,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you’re hiding.”

She throws him an affronted look, picking up the dirty diaper bag. “I am not hiding.” 

She’s definitely hiding. Despite the emotional progress she and Amos made a week and a half ago, she hasn’t spoken to him since, though not for lack of trying on his part. He’s called and texted, but she’s dodged every single effort to reach out. It isn’t that she doubts him. She knows he’ll fulfill every promise, and be there for every second that she needs him. He’s always been that guy, since the moment they met. 

It doesn’t mean she knows how to do this.

She spent almost a year avoiding this. Avoiding him knowing, avoiding him caring, avoiding him trying. Now, it’s out in the open, and she has no idea how to cope with the significance of that change.

“You’re hiding,” Monty reprises. “It’s sad, and almost physically painful to watch.”

“Ha ha,” she says dryly, holding out the diaper bag. “Get out.” 

He gives her a sickeningly sweet smile as he takes the trash and turns to walk out. “Oh, yeah,” he says as an afterthought, turning back to face her. “Amos is here.”

Her mouth drops open, and Monty guffaws. “You jerk,” she whisper-shouts so as to not wake Milo. “He can’t be here!”

“He is,” Monty nods. “And he’ll be up here in about thirty seconds, so figure out what you want to say, and stop being a wimp.”

“Get out of my room,” she hisses again. “I hope Freya burns your pizza!”

Monty just continues to snicker, carrying the bag out of the room. Amos passes him on his way in, his eyes immediately finding Aurelia. He gives the girl a smile. “Hey, beautiful.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” she blurts, and she can practically hear Monty mocking her for that slip up.

“Yes, you are,” Amos says, an amused twitch to his lips. “And I get that. But I did tell you I wouldn’t give up.”

“That, you did,” Aurelia agrees, taking a seat on her bed in front of Milo. In the crib, Oliver amuses himself with a taking Minion toy.

“And seeing as you skipped your rehab this week,” Amos continues pointedly, taking a seat next to her on her bed. “I had to improvise. I figure this is better, anyway. No guitar to get in the way, or any physical strains... it’s just us. And I realized I don’t know much about you.”

Aurelia nods slowly. She figures she can understand where he’s coming from. “Okay,” she drags out. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start easy,” he decides. “What’s... your middle name?”

She laughs, because that’s the exact opposite of easy. “Theodosia,” she reveals. “My parents used to call me Theo.”

“Used to,” he notes.

She nods. “Used to.” She bites her lip, wondering if it’s okay to continue. But Amos’ eyes are open and honest, and she hasn’t talked about it since she met Wendy. She wants to tell Amos. Some part of her needs to. “When I was fifteen, there was this bank robbery...”

                                       chandler & a r i e l

ii. the fire in my veins cools in comparison to the fire in your eyes

Chandler’s favorite story to tell anyone is the story of how he meets his soulmate. It’s a horrible story, actually, but it never fails to get people laughing, and it always leads to him damn near reliving the event.

He’s six years old when he meets her. They’re at recess, and they’ve somehow found themselves in the same group of friends. He doesn’t know her name, actually; she’s just another cute girl that got dragged into playing cops and robbers with them. She’d wanted to be robber, but they had already filled spots for robbers, so she was stuck as a cop.

Chandler has this knack for putting his foot in his mouth, even at the tender age of six. He says something that he knows he shouldn’t-- even if it escapes his mind seconds after -- and Hollis lets out a long suffering sigh. The girl whose name he still doesn’t know marches right up to him, lifts her hand, and brings it down hard against his cheek.

When he sees the brown tanbark approaching, he thinks she’s simply smacked him too hard. But when he looks up, he notices her flaming red hair, and her wide green eyes. “Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she echoes. “That’s weird.”

And that’s the story. He tells it to anyone who will listen, no matter how much they genuinely do not care, because he’s horrible at picking up social cues. “She smacked me so hard, I saw color,” he’ll always snicker.

And she’ll roll her eyes, and give him an unimpressed look. “Want me to smack it out?”

Chandler is seven years old when he decides that he does not want to be Ariel’s soulmate. He’d much rather be Ollie’s soulmate, or Adelaide’s. Heck, he’d even be Mari’s; at least he’d never have to worry about bullies.

“You can’t just not be someone’s soulmate anymore,” Loki tells him in a bored tone, lazily stirring sugar into his tea. “Red’s the Romeo to your Mercutio. Deal with it.”

Chandler gives him a blank look.

“Nevermind. Look,” Loki sighs. “She’s not that bad. And even if you did ask Harry’s mom to draw up a contract, you’re not getting a divorce. It’s not like you two can sign some papers, and you’ll suddenly be bound to other people. It doesn’t work that way, Chandler. You two are fated to be in each other’s lives, so just... suck it up and move on.”

Ollie’s head swivels back and forth between them, and he tosses an orange slice into his mouth, waiting for a retaliation.

Chandler blinks. “Dude, you’re a Terrible Friend.” With capitals and everything, because it’s actually that serious.

Loki just rolls his eyes. “At least Ariel’s cool. Be glad you’re not stuck with, like, Ezra, or anything.”

Ollie stiffens like a board, and all playfulness leaves his eyes. “What’s wrong with Ezra?” His voice is sharp as a knife, and for a second, Chandler is scared it’s the Gay Thing. Ezra had come out to them last year, stating in no uncertain terms that he was going to marry Mister Smythe down the block, or his son, Landon, when he grew up and it was legal and all. Chandler highly doubts that will happen, but his mom said that coming out was a Big Thing, and he should just be glad Ezra trusted them enough to tell them.

(Mister McAlister had been very accepting, by the way. He’d just grinned and said, “Ollie’s older, anyway. He’ll just have to find a rich girl to marry, unless you can find a rich guy. Oh, hey, what about that Butler kid who just moved down the street?”)

Chandler really hopes it’s not the Gay Thing. Because Loki may be a Terrible Friend, but he’s sometimes a really swell fellow, and he promises to make life interesting for anyone who knows him. Chandler is hoping that one of his friends marries Loki, just so he’ll have a reason to stay in his life. And when he’s super rich and successful, Chandler won’t ever have to work, because he can just mooch off of Loki. But that can’t happen if he has a problem with the Gay Thing. Chandler doesn’t need that type of influence in his life.

Loki gives them dubious looks, as if they’re idiots. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks rhetorically. “Ezra’s bound to be the least favorite twin. Whoever’s mated to him will have to deal with all of his hurt feelings, and abandonment issues, and he’ll probably end up joining the army and getting himself killed somewhere down the line, and their world will go colorless again as a result of his stupidity.”

Ollie and Chandler both stare in silent shock for a moment, struggling to process that whirlwind of negativity.

“I cannot believe you’re Adelaide’s soulmate,” Ollie finally says.

Loki just shrugs and finishes off his sandwich.

When Chandler’s little brother goes missing, he doesn’t call anyone. He doesn’t think he can handle their worry, or their false platitudes, or their pity. He can’t really handle the world at all, right now.

Dessie and Storey are in the next room over, crying their eyes out. He knows he should go comfort them. He’s their big brother; taking care of them is all he’s good for. But he feels the loss of his brother too strongly, and it seems impossible to even get out of bed, let alone go out and comfort someone else.

There’s a knock on his door. He doesn’t answer, but he doubts they expected one anyway. The door opens, and he doesn’t look up. He already sort of knows who it is. He just continues to stare up at the ceiling, running over the last two days in his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

The bed dips as she slides in, and he stays still as she curls at his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail for once, but loose strands still tickle at his cheek. “Hi,” she whispers, resting a curled hand on his stomach.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He swallows the lump in his throat, keeping his eyes fixed on the white ceiling above him. “Easton’s gone.”

“I know,” Ariel says, her fist tightening. She sounds as if she’s been crying, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that she’s feeling his anguish. Every time his heart constricts at the loss of Easton, she feels that. And suddenly, he feels bad for being hurt. He feels bad for bottling it up, and hurting her more than he needs to. “I... Audie felt Dessie crying.”

“Oh.” He pauses, trying to digest that. He’d forgotten that Dessie had found her soulmate. “Is she...?”

“She’s with them now,” Ariel reports.

“Oh,” he repeats, feeling stupid for his lack of reaction. He's glad that Audie is here. She’s Ariel’s cousin, and has her strength. Even when her heart hurts, he knows she’ll hold Des and Storey up, no matter what. She’s resilient in a way that only the Hayes girls ever are. She can be there when he can’t. At the same time, he feels a sense of numbness settling in his stomach. He doesn’t know what to feel. “That’s good.”

Ariel lets out a hum.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, swallowing again.

Ariel sighs. “Shut up.” She wraps her arm around his waist, pulling him nearer. He feels tears soaking through his shirt, and realizes that she’s crying. Every tears that he refuses to shed leaks from her eyes, and he feels her shaking against his side. “I’m sorry, Chan. I’m so sorry.”

Chandler just stares up at the ceiling, and is silently grateful as she cries for him.

Four years after Easton disappears, their dad dies.

His mom feels it as if happens. The bowl of popcorn falls from her hands, and she releases a pained gasp. Fifteen year old Chandler is already out of his seat, running towards her, when she collapses. Shaking hands over her abdomen, as if she’s expecting a wound there. (A gunshot wound, he later finds out.) But nothing is there. “No,” she gasps, tears rushing from her eyes. “No.” She blacks out in Chandler’s arms, and twelve year old Storey screams.

The funeral for their dad is a weak later, and Loki puts the entire thing together. They’re too young to be doing this type of thing, but there’s no other choice. Chandler’s mom isn’t really there, anymore. It’s a miracle if she pulls herself out of bed, nowadays. Most days, Chandler has to drag her out of bed, wash and feed her, and take care of the girls while he’s at it. He has to make lunches, and find money to give them, and make sure they’re fed and taken care of, day after day. When it became obvious his mom wasn’t going to do it, he was going to arrange the funeral, but Loki had already swooped in to save the day. He paid for and arranged the entire thing, and had only asked that Chandler write the eulogy.

The three remaining Reese children sit in the front row, dressed in all black. Audie stands next to Dessie, holding her hand in a vice-like grip, and Chandler runs his fingers through Storey’s hair. His mother is despondent, even during the funeral, silent tears slowly creeping down her face. Chandler holds her hand, anyway, because he doesn’t believe for a second that she isn’t in pain. Ariel is still alive, and has never even been majorly hurt in her life, so he can’t sympathize with his mom. He doesn’t know what she feels, but he tries to imagine if Ariel was no longer in his life. If the sizable portion of his heart that she occupied were ever to be carved out, and his world flipped upside down. He tries to imagine losing all of the color in his world, so soon after losing Easton, and he finds himself in agony, just at the thought. He doesn’t blame his mother for checking out, but he does wish she were still here.

(He wishes he didn’t have to be the strong one.)

He doesn’t ask Ariel, or Ollie, or Loki to stand with him in the front row. Even when they – along with Caleb, Tatum, and Holden – offer to stand by his side, he politely refuses. He doesn’t begrudge Audie for staying with Dessie; no, he’s glad she’s there. Dessie needs an anchor, especially now. But he has to stand on his own two feet today, tomorrow, and every day after. When his mom gets back, maybe he’ll allow himself to grieve. Maybe he’ll finally feel the loss of his father, stronger than ever before, and allow himself to cry the way that the girls have. But until then, he has to power through on his own. Because the second one of them holds his hand, or tries to comfort him, he knows he’ll unravel at the seams, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to pull himself together again.

The minister straightens at the podium. “And now the eulogy, delivered by his son, Chandler Reese.”

Storey’s grip on him tightens, and Chandler kisses her forehead before pulling away. Every eye is trained on him as he walks up to the altar, and he breathes quietly as he faces the congregation. On reflex alone, his eyes meet Ariel’s, and he gives her a sad smile. Her eyes hold a scary blankness, but tears run unhindered down pale cheeks. Loki grips her hand tightly, and Chandler has never been more grateful. He’s still a Terrible Friend, but he’s also one of the best guys ever. Adelaide steps forward, taking his place between Storey and his mother. Storey launches herself into Adelaide’s lap, burying her face in the older girl’s lap.

Chandler takes another breathe.

He can do this.

“My dad,” he starts, keeping his voice even, “was my role model. He was always strong, even in the hardest times. When we lost my brother…” He tunes himself out, speaking the words from memory alone. At some point in his speech, Des releases a heart wrenching scream, and for the first time, Chandler feels a pain that he can’t shut out. Ariel gasps as it hits, and Chandler tries to shut it out. He can’t cry. He can’t lose it. Not here. Not now. Ariel cries into Loki’s suit, and Chandler keeps speaking, powering through the speech. “…never shaken. He wasn’t just a dad, or a friend, he was a hero. My hero. He seemed invincible, he seemed like one of the guys who would never die,” he finds himself saying, though he doesn’t remember it being part of his speech. The congregation is silent as death (ironically), and he wonders where to go from here. “But now he is gone, and we…”

There’s nothing left to say. For a few stilted moments, the church is so silent, he could hear a pin drop. His mouth opens and shuts as he searches for a way to finish that. What does he say now? He meets Adelaide’s wet eyes, and she bites her lip, shaking her head silently. She doesn’t know either, which is strange, because Adelaide has always known. Even when he didn’t, and when Ariel didn’t, Adelaide has always known exactly where to go, and what to say. And when he looks to Marilyn, she shakes her head, too, incapable of forming any sort of words.

When the silence can’t seem to drag on any longer, Tatum stands. He steps out of the aisle, and Chandler watches with wide eyes as he makes his way onto the stage. He places his hand on the small of Chandler’s back, gently pulling him away. “Come on,” the older teen whispers, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. You did great.” The minister gives Tatum an appreciative look as he leads Chandler off of the stage.

The minister speaks again, asking everyone to rise for the congregational hymn. Chandler takes his spot again, Tatum only squeezing his shoulder as he makes his way back to his own row. Adelaide presses a kiss to his cheek, then goes back to her own seat. Storey attaches herself to him again, and his mother stays seated. Chandler keeps his eyes forward, singing along to the hymn he’s heard a thousand times, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to enjoy it again after this.

The funeral takes too long to end, and Chandler is silently thankful that there isn’t a wake. They don’t watch the coffin get lowered into the ground, either, which is good, because Chandler isn’t sure how much he would be able to handle. After he’s loaded his mother and sisters into the limo, he turns to his friends. When he’s hugged his way through the most of them, he hugs Tatum. “Thank you,” he mutters, hating how choked up he feels. “Thank you, I…”

“You did great,” Tatum reiterates, gripping the back of his neck tightly, and Chandler thinks he’s a little bit in love with him. “You did great, Chandler.”

Then, Loki. He usually doesn’t allow himself to be touched, let alone hugged, but it’s a different occasion. Loki hugs him back with vigor, telling him to shut up when he tries to thank him. “Take care of yourself, dumbass,” he whispers, holding Chandler tightly, as if his hold can keep the boy from falling apart. “Call me if you need something.”

Chandler just smiles and nods, then hugs Adelaide. He can’t stop himself from pecking her on the lips, though he doesn’t know why he does it. “Thank you,” he whispers to her. “For being there for the girls. They needed you.”

Adelaide laughs quietly, a watery and weak sound in his ears. “I’m your friend, Chandler,” she says. “I’m always going to be there.”

Finally, he hugs Ariel. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say before he pushes himself into the limo. He doesn’t know what else to say to her. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say, nothing that can adequately encompass all that he wants to tell her. So he settles for running away.

Audie sleeps over that night and the next, stuffing herself into bed with Dessie and Storey. Chandler’s told her repeatedly that she doesn’t have to stay if she doesn’t want to, but she’s steadfast. She helps him through the day, mostly tending to his sisters. She’s there for every breakdown, and pulls them through every time they start to sink into the despair that threatens to overwhelm them at any given moment. Chandler spends most of his days taking care of his mother; she’s still despondent, and doesn’t even seem to recognize him when he talks to her. She just stares blankly at him, not even putting up a fight as he puts her in a bath, and forces food down her throat.

Months pass in that fashion – Chandler pushing his mother to live, and Audie helping to get the girls back on their feet – before someone finally questions it.

“I’m just worried about you,” Holden confesses, pulling the food out of the oven. “I mean, I get why you’re doing everything that you are. You have to take care of your family. But…”

Chandler raises an eyebrow, pulling out the pitcher of punch front from the fridge.

Holden shrugs. “I’m just scared you’re going to run yourself into the ground.”

“I’m fine,” Chandler promises sincerely. He is fine. He doesn’t feel like the world is falling apart anymore, nor does he feel like he’s falling apart. His sisters are smiling again, and Storey’s even sleeping in her own room now. His mom is still withdrawn, but taking care of her is easy, now. He’s fine, so he doesn’t see why Holden is so worried. “I’m not going to fall apart or anything.”

“Yeah, you say that.” Holden pulls the knives from the drawer, rinsing them off before using one. “But no one can power through five months that way. You have, and that’s awesome, but it’s scary, Chan.” He hesitates, his eyes unsure, before they settle on Chandler with a sad but resigned look. “You’re going to burn out eventually, Chandler.  And I don’t know for sure that we’ll be able to bring you back when you do.”

“I think I’m in love with Adelaide.”

Tatum chokes on his Pepsi, and Holden coughs around his taco. Ollie clears his throat awkwardly, and all eyes turn to Loki. He continues to poke at his rice bowl for a moment before looking up and glancing around. “What?”

Cedric’s eyes narrow at his best friend. “Didn’t you hear him? He’s in love with Adelaide.”

Loki continues to stare. “So?”

“So,” Ollie prompts. “Does that bother you or anything?”

Loki gives them his patented You’re All Freaking Idiots Swear to God I Need New Friends look. “Why would that bother me? Since when do I care who you’re into?”

“Since… it’s your soulmate?” Chandler honestly has no idea what’s happening, or why he’s ever been convinced Loki has a heart. “You really don’t care?”

Loki shrugs. “It’s not like I’m into her or anything. I mean, yeah, I thought about it before, but I’m over that. Besides, if I really had a problem, do you think I’d be so chill about you two screwing behind my back?”

Tatum sets the Pepsi down, swearing as it goes down the wrong pipe again. “What?”

Loki – the asshole – smirks at Chandler. “I’m her soulmate, nimrod. I can feel you two f—”

“Too much,” Caleb says, grimacing at them. “Too much, dude.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what you two do. Just don’t break her heart or anything, or I will have you eliminated.”

It’s about as close to approval as Chandler is going to get, so he takes it.

Chandler loses, like, half of his friends in one fell swoop.

Loki, Holden, and Caleb all move away suddenly. Loki goes to London – or France? Fuck if Chandler knows – and Holden moves to Boston. Caleb doesn’t say where he’s going, but he promises that it isn’t permanent. He and Asher will be back before they know it, or something like that. Then he’s gone, and so is Holden, and so is Loki.

Ariel’s heart breaks when Loki leaves, and the pain of it all pulls Chandler out of his bed. He rubs his hand over his heart for a moment, frowning at the burn he feels there. His sisters are sleep, and his mom’s meds should keep her down for at least another twelve hours. Knowing that the house will survive without him for a while, he pulls on his shoes and jacket and makes sure to lock the front door behind him.

Ariel’s brother is the one who opens the door, and he seems to already know why Chandler is here. He gives him a small smile. “Hey,” Mickey greets. “She’s up in her room.”

Chandler gives the redhead a grateful smile and toe his shoes off before going up to Ariel’s room. Out of common courtesy, he knocks twice before pushing the door open and leaning against the door frame. Predictably, she’s working on homework that probably isn’t due for the next month, her head bowed close to the desk as she scribbles furiously on a piece of lined paper. She doesn’t look at him when he enters, but he knows that she knows he’s here. “Hi,” he greets, out of routine more than anything else.

“Hi,” she says back, keeping her eyes on her paper. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t sleep,” he says, instead of telling the whole truth. The last thing she needs is guilt on top of her heartbreak. “What are you working on?”

“Shuester’s essay,” she answers absentmindedly. “You know how he gets. If it’s not perfect, he’ll give me one of those disappointed looks, and I’ll never forgive myself for getting anything less than a hundred percent.”

Chandler’s pretty sure she’s projecting. Mr. Shue is probably the nicest teacher they have, and hardly cares whether or not their essays are publication ready. She’ll probably get a hundred percent, just because of her effort, but it won’t matter if he says so. “Okay.” He nods, before standing up straight. He walks over to her, pulling the chair away from the desk.

“Wha – what are you doing?”

“Putting you to bed,” he answers simply. He takes her hands, pulling her out of the chair. “And don’t try to fight me, because I do this with three women every night. Trust me, I could do this all night, and I will win.”

She throws him a sharp look, but allows him to pull her up. He takes the pen from her hand, setting it down on the desk, then guides her to the bed. He pushes her down until she’s lying on her side, and he takes a seat. She puts her head in his lap, drawing in a shaky breath as his fingers start carding through her hair. “He’s gone,” she says.

“I know.”

“He doesn’t–” She breathes, tears welling up in her eyes. “He doesn’t want to come back.”

“He will,” Chandler tells her confidently. “No matter how he feels right now, this will always be home to him. He’ll always come back here. Adelaide’s here. You’re here. That’s more than enough to pull him back. It might not happen tomorrow,” he admits, taking the rubber band from her hair. He allows her locks to fan out across his thigh, his fingers scraping against her scalp. “It might not happen this year, or even the next. But he’s going to come back. You just have to wait for him.”

Ariel’s quiet for a long moment, tears leaking to his jean clad thigh. “Promise he’s worth it?”

Chandler hesitates. Is Loki worth it? Yes, he’s done amazing things. He’s always been protective and supportive, and he took care of Chandler’s dad’s funeral. He’s Adelaide’s soulmate, and Ariel’s best friend, so he’s definitely great. But is he worth the heartache? “I promise,” Chandler finally answers, hoping that he’s not wrong. “He’s going to be worth it.”

Ollie is, without a doubt, Chandler’s best friend.

It’s different from how Holden, Adelaide, and Tatum are his best friends. Chandler’s kind of in love with them, which takes them out of the running for Best Friend of the Year, because that’s kind of biased. Chandler isn’t in love with Ollie, though he could see himself falling for him somewhere along the line. Marilyn could be his best friend, except they kind of hate each other half the time, so it doesn’t work out. Ollie is his best friend, though, simple and plain, and Chandler values that friendship. He knows that Ollie values their friendship, too, even if he can’t compete with Ezra for Best Friend. Even if he isn’t Best Friend, they’re still comfortable with each other, and have always been able to tell each other everything.

Which is why Ollie kind of avoiding him, and being super awkward is a horrible and confusing thing.

Loki, Holden, and Caleb all left three months ago, and the pain of that is still a bit too prominent. Chandler is kind of possessive of his friends now, and gets jittery when things like this happened. He damn near had a heart attack when Hollis went missing, though he knew exactly why she was leaving. He’s still nervous about it, and doesn’t think he can handle losing anyone else. Ollie has been a constant presence in his life since the first grade, and he doesn’t think he can lose him, too.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Ollie’s eyes snap up, and they widen at the sight of Chandler. “What?” He takes his earbuds out, his eyes narrowing in concern. “What are you talking about, dude?”

Chandler shifts on his feet. He probably should’ve called before coming over, but that would’ve just given Ollie time to run away. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

“What? Dude, no.” Ollie shakes his head, turning in his computer chair to face Chandler. “It’s not – no, Chan, it’s not you.” He gestures to his bed. “Sit down?”

Chandler eyes him warily for a moment, but complies nonetheless. “What’s going on?”

Ollie wheels himself closer, until he’s sitting just in front of Chandler. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you, but I couldn’t figure out how,” he admits. “I guess I haven’t been handling it the right way, but I really didn’t know what else to do.”

“Tell me what,” Chandler asks, his heart thumping a bit painfully. Nothing that makes Ollie this nervous can be a good thing.

Ollie blushes, clearing his throat. “I was, um… I asked Ariel out.”

Chandler stares for him, the news not quite sinking it. Then, after a few moments, he says, “Oh.”

“Y-yeah…” Ollie rubs the back of his neck. “I know it’s probably ill timing, with Loki and everything, but we’ve been hanging out, and she said yes, so…” He shrugs. “I just didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, and couldn’t figure out a way to tell you.”

“Oh.” Chandler really needs to find a better way of reacting to news, but for now, oh is all he’s got. “That’s great.”

Ollie blinks. “That’s… great?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, obviously you two like each other. At least, I hope so. And it’s not like I’m her boyfriend or anything. She can see whoever she wants. And, honestly, I’m just glad you don’t, like, have cancer or anything.”

“Wait, what?” Ollie’s eyes widen comically. “Cancer?”

Chandler shrugs, a sheepish grin forming on his face. “It was on my list of Possible Reasons for Ollie Avoiding Me.”

Ollie stares for another few seconds, before laughing. And in that moment, everything is alright again.

Desiree looks like she’s three seconds away from bursting into tears.

Chandler’s mind goes into overdrive, shooting straight to Overprotective Big Brother Mode. He quickly runs down a list of everything that could be wrong, and wonders if he should call Audie over, or ask Dustin for that shotgun his dad keeps under the kitchen table.

Des stands close to the door, looking ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. “I… can we talk?”

What kind of question is that? “Yeah, of course,” Chandler answers, scrambling to his feet. He wraps an arm around his sister’s shoulders, leading her to the bed. He sits down on the edge, pulling her down with him. “What’s going on?”

“I, um…” She sniffles, swiping her hand over her cheeks to clear any tears. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I – I figured some things out, and I don’t – I don’t want to hide it from you. You’ve always been there for me, and I don’t want us to start lying to each other, now or ever, so I–”

He shushes her, squeezing her hands comfortingly. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me anything. You know that, right? I’m your brother, Dessie. You can tell me anything.” He prays and prays that it’s nothing serious. He hopes that in her discoveries, she’s simply found out that she’s failing geometry or something. Something that she would be ashamed of, maybe, but something that could be fixed. He hopes it’s nothing serious or bad, but if it’s brought her to tears, he doesn’t know how it could not be.

“I know,” she croaks, but it doesn’t sound as though she really believes it. She sniffles again, nodding. “I know I can, and that’s why… it’s why I want to tell you first. Before Audie, or Harmony, or mom.”

Chandler’s heart pangs at the mention of their mother. Even though it’s been almost a year since his father’s death, she hasn’t made any progress. He lives for her, guiding her through the routines that should be instinctual by now. He doesn’t remember the last time she’s had a conversation with her daughters. Of course Dessie wouldn’t tell her anything first. He nods slightly. “Okay.”

“I, um… Audie’s my soulmate. We’ve been best friends our entire lives, and I’ve always loved her. I always knew she would always be in my life, but I never knew how. But I think… I think I know how.”

Chandler has a pretty good idea of where she’s going with this. He just nods encouragingly, keeping his face devoid of any emotion.

“I… I think I like girls,” Dessie finally says, tears spilling down her cheeks. She flinches from her own words. “Is that… is it bad?”

Not for the first time, Chandler is reminded of how young they all are. Only just thirteen, Dessie is at an impressionable age; one misspoken word, and her entire opinion of herself will change. She will never be comfortable with herself unless he accepts her first. Not that it would be a problem. He smiles warmly at her, wiping her tears, before placing his hands on her shoulders. “Not even remotely. Do you feel better, now that you’ve said it?”

Dessie stares at him in shocked silence for a few seconds before nodding. “It… yeah. You… you really don’t mind?”

A proud smile on his face, Chandler shakes his head. “Some girls like boys, and some girls like girls, and some girls like both; and some girls just like people. Some girls don’t like anyone at all. It’s the same thing for boys. It doesn’t matter who or what you like, Dessie. You’re always gonna be my awesome baby sister, no matter what.” He thinks for a moment. “Does this mean…?”

Dessie blushes, already knowing where he’s going with that. “I like her,” she mumbles. “For a while, I thought it was just the way best friends like each other. Or like sisters. But she’s not my best friend, or my sister. I mean, she’s totally both of those, but I…”

Chandler chuckles, nodding. “I get it. And she can be both, you know,” he tells her. “She can be your best friend and that other thing. She doesn’t have to fit into one category or the other. And I don’t think she would want to just fit into one category exclusively.”

“I don’t, either,” Des agrees, smiling at him. “Is it like that for you?”

Chandler freezes. “What?” He sincerely hopes that she isn’t talking about Holden, or Tatum, because while he isn’t going out of his way to hide his crushes on them, he isn’t really trying to go public about it either.

“With Adelaide,” she clarifies, brushing against his shoulder. “Is she your best friend and that other thing?”

He takes a few seconds to think about it, before nodding. “Yeah. She’s my best friend and… that other thing.”

Tatum agrees to pick the girls up from school, which gives Chandler the day off. Tatum’s like that cool uncle who doesn’t just pick you up from school, but takes you out for ice cream and burgers, and asks about school and somehow makes the entire day fun, even with the suckiness of school and teachers being a core part of said day.

Tatum has the girls, so all Chandler has to do is get some food in his mom, then make sure she takes her pills before bed. The relative ease of the day takes the tension from his shoulders as he enters the house. It’s quiet without the constant chatter of sisters.

Not for the first time, he wonders if Easton would be like them. He wonders if he would talk, day in and day out, only ever quieting when he retreated to his room. He wonders if he would be an artist, like Storey, or if he would be a socialite, like Dessie. He wonders if Easton would be mature like him, or even withdrawn, like his mother. He wonders how Easton would have reacted to his father’s death. Easton had always been closer to their dad than Chandler was. He wouldn’t have been able to compartmentalize the same way that Chandler had; Chandler wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Would Easton have been happy?

(Is Chandler happy?)

Chandler sighs, tossing his bag down by the front door. “I’m home,” he calls to no one, before pausing. If he listens closely enough, he can hear… is that water? “Mom?” Impossible. She hasn’t dragged herself out of bed in almost a year. He had tried every method under the sun to bring her back to them, but nothing had worked. Why today?

Automatically, he knows. Five years ago today, Easton had been taken from in front of their house. It’s reason enough to drive anyone out of their bed.

His heart races as the fact finally catches up to him. “Mom?” He knocks lightly on the door where the running water is coming from. “Mom, I’m home. Have you eaten? Mom?” Having seen her naked more times than he would like to admit, Chandler doesn’t hesitate to push her bathroom door open.

What he sees makes his heart stop.

“Mom!” The sight of your mother in a bathtub, with slit wrists and tears falling from her eyes sounds like a horrible cliché. It sounds like, and it is one. At least, until it becomes your reality. The water is overflowing from the bathtub, and he wonders how he hadn’t noticed the wet ground before. Her eyes are wide open, tears running unabashedly from her eyes. The only comfort is that he can still see her chest rising and falling, meaning that he isn’t too late. He tears through the bathroom, shoving things out of his way until he grabs the biggest towels he can find. “Jesus, Mom,” he cries, wrapping the towels around her wrist.

She just stares back at him as he calls nine-one-one, saying nothing as he fumbles through an explanation of what’s happening. They tell him to stay on the phone, but he hangs up, tossing his phone to the side. He applies more pressure to the towels, glancing into his mother’s blank eyes. “How dare you,” he asks through gritted teeth. “How dare you?!”

It’s only after she’s been loaded into the ambulance that he remembers to call Tatum. Just keep them for the night, he requests, keeping his voice even and empty. Or drop them off at Audie’s. I’ll tell you everything later.

Ariel shows up when he’s at the hospital, eyes as red as her hair. She draws him into a hug, and cries into his shoulder. He wonders how much of that she saw. He wonders if she’s as traumatized as he is, wonders if she’ll ever recover from this. While he feels nothing but bleakness, she seems to take all of the sorrow and horror that he doesn’t allow himself to feel. “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shaking against him. He can’t find the strength to hug her back. Not when he’s wet and covered in his mother’s blood, and faced with the knowledge that if he’d been any later, he and his sisters would be orphans.

Ollie and Ezra seem to appear from thin air, faces paling in a morbidly comical way when they see the blood on his clothes and hands. “It’s not mine,” he half-jokes, passing Ariel over to Ollie. “Keep an eye on her, okay? She’s been through a lot tonight.”

Before anyone else can say anything else, he makes his way into his mother’s hospital room. She looks small in the bed, the gown of white swamping her entirely. There are bandages wrapped around her wrists, tubes running from her arms. She’s still damp, but her hair seems to have absorbed most of the water. Her eyes are rimmed red from tears, and she flinches when he enters. She looks almost rueful. It’s the most emotion he’s seen from her since his father died. “Chandler,” she gasps. “Baby…”

“Don’t,” he bites out, and he finally allows himself to feel something. He’s felt nothing but pity and tenderness for his mother since his dad died. He’s always put her first, being patient with her, regardless of how much work he has to do just to get her through the day. He’s never gotten frustrated with her, has never once hated her for how fast she forced him to grow up. But in this moment, he feels nothing but contempt for her. “You had no right. You had no right.”

“I’m sorry,” she tries.

“The hell you are,” he snaps. “I – do you know how hard this year has been for me, Mom? I lost my baby brother, then I lost my dad. And not only did I lose them, but I lost you. You fell into this – this abyss, and nothing I did pulled you out. You were just gone, mother, and I had no choice but to step up. I had to get two jobs, and learn how to file taxes, and pay bills. I’m indebted to every person I call a friend, because every time I got a paycheck, it wasn’t enough. I needed more money than I had to raise two kids, and feed myself and you. Not to mention three of my closest friends moved away, and my soulmate’s heart broke.

“And Dessie – Dessie found herself this year, did you know that? Do you know how much fucking progress she’s made? She’s happy, mother, but you wouldn’t know that, because you’ve spent the past year wallowing in self-pity. Storey – Storey likes to draw. And she’s amazing at it. I mean, you should see her art. She draws like no one I’ve ever seen before. She drew a picture of Easton, and it might as well have been a damn photograph, it was so good. She drew you, too. And she tried to show you, but do you know what you said? Nothing! You didn’t say a goddamn thing! You didn’t even look at her. You broke her heart that day. It took Dessie and me hours to make her smile again. All she wanted was to make her mother smile, but you – you ignored her.

“Our lives have completely changed this year,” he rants, and hot tears streak down his cheeks. “Nothing is the same as it was before, and we – we needed you. But you didn’t give us the time of day. You missed every game – which reminds me, I had to give up soccer, the one thing that was holding me together in order to pick up a second job – and every art gallery, and every science fair. You missed every moment of the past year, and you… you have the nerve to try to kill yourself. As if – as if you’re the only one who lost him! As if you’re the one who’s been struggling!”

His mother cries openly, hands clenching the sheets as sobs wrack her body. Her heart monitor beeps uncontrollably, and he knows that maybe he should stop, but he doesn’t care. He can’t find it in him to care anymore. He’s been holding back for a year now, and he’s so tired. “Tell me how to fix this,” she cries. “I’m – I’m here, now, baby. Just tell me – tell me what to do.”

Chandler freezes, his back going ramrod straight. “Sign over your rights,” he demands, his eyes blazing as he watches her face contort in confusion. “Dessie and Storey. Sign over your parental rights.”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No – no, no, you can’t make me.”

“The hell I can’t,” he growls. “You are going to sign over your rights. The girls are going to go and live with Aunt Claire. And I’m going to put you in a mental institution, so you can get better. Obviously, nothing I do at home is going to help you. So you’re going to get some help. And you’re going to stay out of their lives.”

“Chandler, please,” his mom pleads, crying profusely. “Please, don’t – I’m sorry, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry, just don’t – don’t, don’t do this, please, I can’t–”

Chandler shakes his head, taking another step back. “You don’t get to do this,” he laughs. “You don’t get to do this, Annette. Do you have any idea what could happen to those girls? CPS could come and take them away right now! You’ve been out of the picture for a year, this – this is just a nail in the coffin! You have been a terrible mom since Dad died, so please. Do this one thing. Sign over your rights to Claire, and stay out of our lives.”

“Why do we have to go,” Storey asks him again, her hands shaking at her sides.

Chandler sighs, zipping up her last duffel bag, before he turns to look at her. “Mom is really sick, Storey,” he lies. Well, it’s only a half-lie. As far as the girls know, his mom is suffering from an undisclosed potentially terminal illness. They’re ignorant to her depression, which is all Chandler can ask for. He knows that, in the long run, this plan won’t work. It’ll come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later, but he can’t think about that, now. He can only think about the girls. “She can’t take care of you. And it’s been fine for a while, just me taking care of you and Dessie, but it’s not easy. If you stay with Aunt Claire for a while, you can be in a safer, more stable environment. I can take care of Mom, and when she gets better, I’ll come back and get you, okay?”

Storey’s bottom lip quivers in a telling way, and she takes a gulp of air as tears fall. “I don’t want to leave you here,” she breathes, shaking her head. “Chandler, I won’t – I’m not going to lose you, too. I can’t lose you.”

His heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Storey, no.” He stands up, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. “You are not losing me, okay? I’m still here. And you can call me every day. And you can visit whenever you want. I’ll pick you up from school, and I’ll take you out – you can stay here on the weekends, if Aunt Claire allows it. Okay? You. Are not. Losing me. Not now, not ever.”

He wonders if he can really do this. If he can really send both of his sisters away, and stay in this house with Annette for an indiscernible amount of time. He’s never been too far away from his sisters, never for more than a day. He doesn’t know for sure that he won’t break without them to hold him up. He doesn’t know for sure that his hatred won’t swallow him whole, or that he won’t fall apart the next time he looks at her. Annette has gone back to locking herself in her room, but he checks on her by the hour, leaving her with no time for another suicide attempt. They have a deal: if she gets better, and doesn’t try anything like that again, he’ll bring the girls back, and this can be swept under the rug. But if she recedes into herself again, the way she’s doing now, she’ll never see those girls again. She’ll be out of their lives, and Chandler will never let her back in.

He knows it’s harsh. He knows and understands how the loss of her child and soulmate in less than five years can tear her apart. He understands that she isn’t okay. He doesn’t blame her for that. But he blames her for what he’s had to do. He blames her for all of the work and hardship that he’s gone through, all because she refused to even speak after the loss of his dad. He hates her for watching him put his own happiness on the backburner, wearing himself thin, and choosing to kill herself instead of helping him. He isn’t even eighteen, yet. If she’d died, he wouldn’t have been able to keep the girls. They all would’ve been put into the foster system, and there’s no guarantee that they would have been kept together. He would be in the system for another two years, and would have been put into a different home from them. He would’ve lost his baby sisters if she’d died. At least this way, he knows where his sisters are going. He can visit them whenever he likes, and knows for a fact that they will be safe.

This is for the best, he tells himself. This is the best thing he can do for his sisters.

Storey holds him tight, as if he’ll never be able to escape the grip she has; as if they’ll never be separated. “I can’t – please. Not you, too, Chandler, I can’t – I can’t take it if we lose you, too. Please don’t make us go. Or come with us! Don’t… please.”

Her pleas remind him too much of Annette’s, when they were in the hospital just a week ago. As far as his sisters know, his mother was admitted to the hospital because she passed out. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Storey, only thirteen and still so lost in the world, that her mother chose death over her. He can never tell her that.

He sits her down on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. She clings to his arm, crying into his shoulder. “Storey, I’m not leaving you,” he promises firmly. “I am never leaving you. But someone needs to stay and take care of Mom. And you and Dessie need to be in a home where you’ll be taken care of. You need stable income, and someone who can help you with your homework, and go to your art galleries. Mom… Mom can’t do that. And I don’t think it’s healthy for you to stay here and wait for her. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you and Des to have to… to stay in this house, with so many bad memories. Not for a while, at least.” He pulls away, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I need you to do this for me, Storey. It’s just for a few months. Just get out of this house, and be happy. Okay? Please.”

She holds his gaze for a moment, before nodding determinedly. “I’m coming back every weekend,” she tells him, leaving no room for any sort of argument. “I’m calling you every day. And you’re going to come see my art shows, and you’re going to be there for my birthday, and… and…”

Chandler nods, forcing back tears of his own. “I will. I promise.” He presses a long kiss to her hair, before wrapping his arms around her again.

Dessie stands in the door, tears reaming at her own eyes. When they meet gazes, she just shakes her head and walks out.

“Bad time?”

“Never,” Chandler yawns, dragging a hand over his face. The girls moved out a week ago, and while his mother has made some progress, he still does a large portion of the work for her. She speaks sometimes, but withdraws from reality every time he gives her a less than tender response. It’s easier, now that he doesn’t have to take care of the girls, too, but still exhausting. He’s ready to let sleep overtake him, but is glad to hear from Ollie. “What’s up, man?”

“You sound exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” Chandler confesses. “It’s just been a long day, man. Nothing big.” Another thing: none of his friends know, either. They don’t know that Annette is in perfect physical health; it’s her mental stability that’s in question. For this elaborate lie to work out, he needs to be the only one who knows the truth. The weight of the lie seems to be harder to carry than the weight of taking care of his mother, but he’s okay with it. “What’s going on? You didn’t call me at…” He checks the clock on the stove. “…one o’clock in the morning to tell me I’m tired.”

“Not that I wouldn’t,” Ollie points out. “I actually think Mari’s staging an intervention, so you should probably avoid her at all costs.”

Chandler chuckles. “Okay.”

Ollie’s silent. Chandler doesn’t push him; instead, he starts to put the dishes up, momentarily grateful of how much his mother doesn’t eat. It saves a lot of dishes. By the time Ollie speaks, the glass plates have been put up. “A new girl moved in next door.”

“Yeah?” Chandler puts the phone on speaker, setting it down on the counter. He grabs the glass bowls, carrying them over to their cabinet. “Is she cute?”

“The cutest,” Ollie gushes. “Her name is Effie, and she’s the most adorable girl I’ve ever met. She’s sort of awkward, but not in a bad way, like, at all. She seemed kind of freaked out by me at first, but I think she confused me with Ezra. I’m half-convinced he met her earlier and did something to scare her off before she was even finished moving in.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Chandler rolls his eyes.

“Right?” Ollie laughs, and there’s rustling on the other end. “I touched her, Chan.”

Chandler stills, knowing the implications of those words. “And?”

Ollie takes a breath. “She’s my soulmate.”

Two years and one month after Easton disappears, they have a funeral for Annette.

Chandler’s mom isn’t dead. That’s just what everyone believes.

She’s supposedly cremated, and her funeral goes by a lot quicker than his father’s did. There are still a lot of tears, but not nearly as many as there would’ve been two years ago. She hasn’t talked to anyone other than Chandler since her husband was shot, leaving her estranged to everyone she once loved. Even Dessie and Storey are more controlled, shedding quiet tears as they stare at an old picture of their smiling mother.

How long ago was it that Annette was smiling? Chandler can hardly remember.

When he gives his mother’s eulogy, he meets Claire’s desolate eyes. She’s the only person in the world who knows the truth about what Chandler did. She had given her consent for it, just a few weeks before his mother’s admission to the mental hospital in the next town over. She hasn’t been close to her sister in a long time, he remembers. Even before his father was taken from him, Claire and Annette had been at odds, for reasons he’s never known. Regardless of the reason, she doesn’t even pretend to mourn her sister’s supposed death.

He doesn’t care as much as he should.

When all is said and done, the girls go back to Claire’s, and he lets Tatum and Ariel drive him home. He hears them follow him into the house, but he ignores them, storming up to his room. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry, now; he doesn’t know why he feels as though he’s about to fall apart, despite being the orchestrator behind this entire time. He knows his mom isn’t dead, knows that his sisters are safe, and things will be easier now. Even so, he feels a fire beneath his skin, acid running through his veins, and screams rising his throat.

He slams the door behind him.

He paces his room for a few minutes, dragging his hands through his hair. Why does he feel like this? Why does his heart hurt so much?

When his vision stops swimming, and his blood stops boiling, he listens for his friends. He knows they all followed him here, knows they’re all still here. They wouldn’t leave him.

“He’s losing it,” Marilyn is saying, something foreign in her voice.

“Do you blame him?” It’s Ezra. “He’s lost both of his parents, and all of his siblings. Wouldn’t you lose it?”

“It’s not this,” Holden pipes up. “Back when his dad died, remember? He was doing everything under the sun. Taking care of his mom, and his sisters, and himself, juggling two jobs… He hasn’t even mourned his dad yet.”

“I don’t even think he’s mourned Easton,” Tatum adds.

There’s a long bout of silence. “He hasn’t been handling it,” Effie says. “Everything that’s happened to him… it’s all hitting him at once.”

“So what do we do,” Ollie asks. “We can’t just leave him like this.”

“Let me talk to him,” Ariel orders immediately.

“Are you crazy,” Braeden asks incredulously. “Ari—”

“He won’t hurt me,” Ariel cuts her off. “Chandler would never hurt anyone, even if he is hurting. And I’m his soulmate. His soulmate, and his best friend. And I’m not leaving him like this.”

There’s more silence, before a knock on Chandler’s door startles him. Ariel steps in, and his eyes narrow to slits. “Get out.”

Unfazed by his words, Ariel close the door behind her, and leans against the wall.

“I said,” he hisses, “Get. Out!”

“No,” she says simply. “I’m not leaving you.”

Ariel is right about one thing – he won’t hurt her. Not even when his world is falling apart. But he wants to hurt something. He wants to watch something shatter, the way that his life has. He wants to see something break the same way that he is. So he picks up the snow globe his mother had gotten him for his birthday three years ago, and hurls it at the wall. It isn’t near Ariel, but she flinches anyway.

He shoves everything off his desk, including the lamp he and Easton had painted when Chandler was in the fifth grade.

He stabs a pair of scissors into the soccer ball his dad had given him before his first soccer game, before throwing it.

He rips apart every loose piece of paper he finds, smashing every breakable object he can find. When his room has been destroyed, and the hurricane of emotions has passed, Ariel is still standing there. For once, he’s the one crying. “Do you feel better?” She asks patiently.

His mouth opens, and he searches for words – an apology, an explanation, something – but comes up empty. Ariel steps away from the wall, careful not to set foot on any glass, and wraps him in a hug.

“You’ve been so strong,” she whispers, holding him close, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’ve held yourself up for everyone. It’s okay to let go now. You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

He crumbles in her arms, his body sagging against hers. He’s exhausted. It feels as if he’s carried the weight of the world for so long, and it’s finally gotten to him. He feels as though he’s fought a hundred wars, and the one against himself is the one he can’t win.

There’s a hesitant knock at the door. Tatum shuffles on his feet. “Chandler…”

Dessie steps into the room, her eyes widening when she sees the destruction wrought on the room, and on her brother.

Chandler pulls away from Ariel, stepping towards his sister. “Des, you need to go home.”

Des’ eyes move back to him, hardening. “I am home. And I’m not leaving again.”

He really isn’t in the mood for this. “Des—”

“No,” she snaps, pushing him back. “You don’t get to push me away, Chandler. You don’t get to act like you haven’t been playing superman for the past two years. I know, okay? I’ve seen you run yourself to the ground. I’ve seen it. And you will not stand here and act like it hasn’t hurt. Don’t you dare act like this hasn’t been weighing on you. Did you even realize your birthday was last week?”

He hadn’t, actually. Seventeen, huh? So far, it’s not all that great. “Des,” he tries again. “I’m going to be okay. But you need to go home. Claire is going to worry—”

She shoves his hand away. “I’m not leaving you,” she screams at him. The house goes quiet. “I am not leaving you alone again, Chandler. You’ve been alone for so long, and I’m not leaving you in this house by yourself anymore. I’m not letting you drown, Chandler Uriah Reese. Do you hear me?” Tears are in her eyes, but she stands firm. She won’t take no for an answer, and Chandler doesn’t think he’s ever been prouder.

His hand wraps around her wrist and he pulls her into him, hugging her tightly. “Don’t leave me,” he begs her, tears dropping to her shoulder. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Desiree promises, her arms slipping around his waist. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you alone again. Not ever.”

Over her shoulder, he meets Ariel’s eyes. The redhead smiles, nodding slightly.

They’re going to be okay.

Ariel shows up at his door, her lips twitching in amusement. Chandler brightens at the sight of her. “Ariel! Ariel. Ariel, come in, you need to get in here, right now.”

She laughs as he drags her inside. “What’s got you in such a good mood? You haven’t been this happy since Ezra told you he would date you before he dated Loki.”

“Listen, it’s an honor to be someone’s second choice, especially to be chosen over your pretentious boyfriend.”

Ariel rolls her eyes fondly. “Chandler.”

The curly-haired boy – now eighteen, and infinitely happy than he had been before – whirls around to face her, and his eyes shine with joy. “Easton’s home.”

Her heart almost falls out of her chest. “W-what?” She can’t believe her ears. It’s been three years since Easton disappeared, and they had almost given up hope of ever finding him. She feels dread pool in her stomach, uncertain that this isn’t some sick prank someone is pulling on her soulmate. If it is, Loki will have them erased. (The same way Holden’s dad was. Even now, months later, she still has no clue what happened to him.) “Chandler, are you… are you sure?”

His smile fades, and he frowns. “Of course I’m sure, Ariel. I know my brother, okay? And he knows me. He recognized me, and the girls, and he recognized Tatum and Adelaide, too. It’s Easton, Ariel.”

She still isn’t sure, but she could never be the one to rain on his parade, so she nods, smiling at him. “I want to see him.”

His beams at her, and continues to drag her through the house. When they near the kitchen, a cacophony of voices reaches her ears. She can hear Adelaide fussing over someone, Storey teasing her for being such a mom. Ariel’s heart beats painfully against her rib cage, and she prays to every deity she can name that this isn’t some trick. It took so long for Chandler to smile again. After his mother died, he’d fallen apart. It broke her heart to see him that way, day after day. They had never feared that he would take his own life – not while his sisters were living, anyway – but they had feared for his mental state. He hadn’t been Chandler for a long time.

But they had finally gotten him back. He started to smile, and to laugh, and to joke around. His grin became as infectious as it was before, and he would throw himself over any of his friends. Even Loki could only act annoyed with him half of the time. He had crawled out of the pits of depression, and Ariel never wants to see him go back.

She needs this to really be Easton. She needs this to be Chandler’s brother, and she needs him to stay. Because if it isn’t, or if he leaves again, then nothing in the world will bring Chandler back. She can’t lose Chandler to himself again – none of them can – and this boy, claiming to be Easton, has all the potential to break his heart. No one in this world has more power over Chandler in that moment, and Ariel hates that.

When she lays eyes on the boy, her breath catches in her throat.

Undoubtedly Easton – who else would have such hair? Such eyes? Who else looks at Chandler as if he hung the stars, and Storey as if she is a star, and Dessie as if he’s blessed to be a part of her orbit? – the boy looks up at her, and smiles hesitantly. “Hey, Ariel.”

Chandler squeezes her hand, and she forces herself not to break into tears. “Hi, honey. Welcome home.”

                                         josiah & m-a-r-i-n-a

iii. who knew you would be the greater of the two evils?

Marina Margaret Matthers is five years old when she meets her best friend.

Her mother is having a business meeting in the living room, and while she’s cognizant to the rules –

( cognizant: adjective, having knowledge of. ) 

-- she can’t help but sneak down the stairs to peek at the company. She knows her mother won’t be happy about it, but refuses to let herself be deterred by that. There’s always the chance that she won’t get caught – slim chance, but still a chance – she just has to be careful. She creeps down the stairs, lightly stepping on her tip toes, until her mother’s voice floods her ears. Her mother speaks so often, it would be virtually impossible for Marina not to recognize her voice.

She stops at the foot of the stairs, peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of who her mom is talking to. She sees a tall woman, and a little girl with what looks like light hair. Her mother continues to speak, the woman paying rapt attention, but the little girl seems bored out of her mind. Marina stifles a snicker at the sight of her. She doesn’t make a single noise, but the little girl’s eyes snap to her. She blinks curiously, before turning back to Marina’s mom. “Missus Matthers?”

Her mother trails off in the middle of what is surely an epic speech about something no one really cares about. “Yes?”

“May I please use your restroom?”

“Of course, Summer. It’s right down that hall, second door on the left.”

The girl – Summer – nods with a smile, then wiggles off of her stool. Marina can only watch with dawning horror as the girl waddles her way towards her. She presses her back firmly against the wall behind her, her eyes wide as the stranger approaches. Summer gives her a funny look. “What are you doing?”

Eyes darting to her mother, Marina presses a finger to her lips. “Shhh!” She grabs Summer’s hand and pulls her into the bathroom, shutting the door shut behind them. “You’re going to get me in trouble!”

“For what,” Summer inquires, confused. “Going to the bathroom?”

Marina wonders if this girl is being intentionally thick. “I’m not s’posed to be down here.”

“It’s a bathroom.”

“That’s not the point!” Marina makes sure to keep her voice quiet. She lets out a sigh. “This was a bad idea.”

Summer shrugs. “Probably.” Her lips widen into a childish grin, and she sticks her hand out. “Summer Lopez-Pierce, at your service.”

“Marina Matthers,” she replies, smiling almost shyly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Summer.”

The girl examines her for a long moment, then starts bouncing on her toes. “I have an idea!”

“Oh?” Something just tells Marina this isn’t as revolutionary as the gleam in Summer’s eyes would indicate. “And this idea is…?”

“Be my best friend!”

Marina pauses, her disposition softening at the simplicity. “Be… your friend?”

“Best friend,” Summer corrects. “It can be you, and me, and Lilah! That’s my soulmate, by the way. We can all be best friends! What do you say, Marnie?”

“…Marnie?”

Summer pouts. “You don’t like it? I think it’s cute.”

Marina rolls the name around in her head for a few more seconds, before lifting her shoulders in a brief shrug. “Marnie, it is. And I’ll be your best friend, as long as you promise to help me with my spelling words.”

Summer rolls her eyes – they’re only five, and it’s somehow offensive – but nods. “Sure. And I’ll teach you how to have fun while we’re at it.”

“Spelling words are fun!”

“They’re really not.”

It’s a true testament to how far she’s come that Marnie doesn’t even jump when someone’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She doesn’t even lift her head from her book, only slightly pressing into the embrace. She knows that it can only be one of her friends. Jennifer isn’t as tactile as her welcoming demeanor would lead one to believe, so it probably isn’t her. Summer is supposed to be at the gym with her big brother, and she actually likes him enough to actually attend their bonding events, so she’s out. Which means –

“What are you reading?” Delilah asks, resting her chin on Marnie’s shoulder.

Marnie – ten years old, best friend to the other girls for about five years now – flips the page. “Edgar Allen Poe,” she answers distractedly. “It’s his book of poems.”

The name seems to mean something to Delilah, as she goes quiet for a few seconds. “The book we’re supposed to read in, like, high school?”

“That would be it,” Marnie acknowledges, closing the book. “Technically, we don’t have to read it. It’s really dependent on which English courses you choose to take. If you take literary analysis sophomore year—”

Delilah giggles in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I don’t need details, Mars.” Her friend unwraps her arms from her shoulders and takes a seat on the bench next to her, facing the opposite direction. “You have to be the only ten year old ever to go to the park, just to read.”

Marnie concurs. “Summer doesn’t approve,” she says, fanning her hands out behind her. She leans back, looking up at the clouds that lazily peregrinate overhead –

( peregrinate: verb, to travel or journey. )

-- without any sense of urgency. It’s silly, but she’s almost envious of them. “She thinks I should my time doing something more productive.”

“Like what,” Delilah prompts, a teasing edge to her voice. “Learn to put on make-up?”

Marnie scoffs. “It’s a useless skill for kids our age. Not to mention that cosmetology, while excelling in marketing and production, isn’t a very progressive industry. Someone with a heart like Summer’s should be doing something that goes against the objectification of women.”

Delilah’s lips twitch. “I don’t think all make-up is objectifying,” she counters. “To say that it is would be to feed into the stereotypical notion that a girl only puts on make-up to catch the eyes of whatever guy -- or girl – piques their interest. If that were true, Summer wouldn’t look twice at her moms’ make-up. Some women wear makeup simply because they want to. In essence, the cosmetics industry is fairly empowering. I wouldn’t call it a trademark for feminism or anything, but it’s definitely not a stigma. Not to mention the gross connotation that genderfluid or non-binary persons can’t rock lip gloss and eyeliner.”

Marnie nods, taking a moment to formulate her response. She knows, rationally, that this isn’t an actual debate. Neither of them has outlined their rebuttals or anything, and Delilah is doing this largely to humor her. And it isn’t really as if they’re on opposite ends of the argument. She vastly agrees with her friend, on many points. It’s just that now that they’ve started the deliberation, she isn’t quite ready to let go. “It’s not the make-up itself that would be the stigma,” she finally acquiesces. “Rather, the marketing strategies.”

“Ah.”

“Rarely ever do you see cosmetics ads that are geared towards the empowerment of women. They always aim for sexiness and allurement. And that in and of itself wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if not for the presentation. And you bring up a good point, actually. The lack of representation for genderfluid, transgendered, and non-binary persons is appalling, and always overlooked, because that’s not the kind of message we want to send our kids,” she mocks.

“Those conservatives, right?”

“Precisely! And it isn’t as we should eradicate the gestalt of the Republican Party -- because, let’s be honest with ourselves, it’s them – or uproot their belief system, but they should aim towards a more enlightened mindset. Eventually, they have to realize that we’re a whole new generation, and we’re not so blind as to believe that same sex marriage is wrong, or that our gender is confined to what genitilia we were born with. Even at our age, we realize that sexual identity and sexual orientation have nothing to do with what body parts we are born with, or what family we are born into. The world has taken a more radical view, and it’s sickening that some people refuse to accept that, on the grounds of preserving innocence or religion, of all things, as if God would be so hateful! We cannot simply keep acting like this isn’t happening, like we aren’t moving forward as a nation, and keeping the LBTQA community out of the media does nothing but lower our op—mmf.”

“Enough,” Delilah decides, keeping her hand firmly over Marnie’s mouth. “That is the last time that I try to go toe to toe with you in a debate. I don’t even know what half of those words mean, Marnie.”

Marnie pulls Delilah’s hand off away from her face, and can’t help but grin at her. “You brought up some really good points,” she compliments, kissing Delilah’s palm. “Come to me when you’re ready to talk gentrification. I can’t wait.”

Delilah gives her a fondly exasperated look. “This is why Summer wants you to do other things,” she teases. “You’re such a nerd, Marnie.”

Marnie pouts, an affronted look on her face. “I’m not a nerd.” She hesitates for a few seconds, biting her lower lip. “Am I?”

“You’re the only person I know who thinks in vocab words,” Delilah points out, an affectionate smile lining her lips. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I think it’s cute.”

No one’s ever called me cute before. “What do you think I should do? Instead of read all the time?”

Delilah thinks for a moment. “I think you should do whatever makes you smile. I don’t think you should care what Summer, or your mom, or anyone thinks. If reading and thinking in flashcards is what keeps you smiling, then I think that’s exactly what you do.” She leans her head over Marnie’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, no matter what you choose to do. All that matters is that you’re happy.” She pauses. “Are you happy?”

Marnie lets out a contemplative hum. “Thinking in flashcards is pretty empowering.”

“You only say that because it makes you smarter than the rest of us.”

Marnie laughs. “Only a little,” she accedes. “I just… I like knowing things, you know? I like having a repertoire of words at hand. No matter what I’m feeling, or what the situation is, there’s always a litany of words running through my mind that can be used. I always have something to say, and my mom…” She trails off, not sure why she starts down that path.

Delilah brings her head up, smiling wistfully at her. “I know.” All of the girls know how Marnie’s mom is. She’s notorious for her obsession with perfection, known for her mercilessness when it comes to mistakes. She had pushed her daughters to read dictionaries instead of picture books, doing math at university levels when they should’ve been learning their time tables. She isn’t a bad mother, Marnie will always argue; she simply wants her kids to be as educated as possible.

Education is key, after all.

Jennifer lets herself in.

Marnie startles when she sees her, pulling her blanket over her head. “Go away,” she calls out, sniffling and biting back another sob. She can’t believe this is happening. Just a month ago, this had been unfathomable. But now it’s happening, and she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to leave her room, for one thing. She hopes that if she stays in her room, the world will right itself, and when she comes out, this will have all been a horrible dream. She closes her eyes and prays for that to be. “Go away, Ferret.”

“No,” Jennifer denies. “Be glad it’s just me. Deli and Sims are still downstairs trying to figure out which ice breaker would be least offensive, and whether you’ll prefer Chinese food or Mexican food.”

Marnie rolls puffy eyes, wiping at her nose as she pulls the blanket down from over her head. “Chinese, obviously,” she gripes. “Mexican food is not comfort foot.”

Jennifer laughs softly. “I’ll let them know.” The mattress dips slightly as she takes a seat. “I’m sorry about your parents, Marnie.”

Marnie bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying again. “It’s not that big of a deal,” she lies. “Have you seen divorce rates lately? Everyone’s doing it. It’s not like my parents are special or anything.”

“They are special,” Jennifer contradicts. “They’re your parents.”

A few more tears leak from Marnie’s eyes and she tries to keep her lips from wobbling. “I’m on my period,” she sobs. “Jenni, this sucks.” She had been so excited to turn twelve just a few months ago. So far, she hates it.

Jennifer tries for a smile, but it looks too pained and sorrowful to quite be called such. “I know, babe,” she mutters comfortingly. “Which is why you have us girls. We’re going to eat all the Chinese food we can handle, and watch every Patrick Swayze movie in your collection, and totally regret how much we ate in the morning.”

Despite the situation, Marnie finds herself smiling at the younger girl. “Yeah,” she croaks, wiping her eyes. “That’d be awesome, Fetter.”

It’s only later, after Dally’s death that one of them speaks again. The four girls are curled up in Marnie’s bed, limbs entangled haphazardly. Marnie is between Delilah and Jennifer, her cheek pressed against Delilah’s shoulder as Summer’s fingers graze her side. “My parents are getting a divorce,” Marnie says, her eyes remaining dry for once. “What am I going to do?”

Someone squeezes her hand.

“You’re going to be okay,” Summer tells her. “You’re going to hold your head up, and you’re going to call us every time your world feels like it’s imploding. You’re going to continue being you, Mars. It’s what you’ve always done, and you’re not going to let this stop you.”

Marnie goes quiet, before: “And you’ll still be here?”

Delilah chuckles quietly, pressing her lips to her shoulder. “You couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

Marnie is fourteen years old when she finally meets her soulmate.

She hasn’t really thought about them up until this point. She knows that she has one – at least, she sincerely hopes she does – but she hasn’t been too concerned with finding them. Unlike most people, she doesn’t mind the invariance of her world. She isn’t enough of a romantic to think of how beautiful the world is, or to wax poetic over the artistry of a black mountain painted against the gray of a colorless sky. She doesn’t particularly care if the sky is actually gray, or if it’s the deep azure that her father has described to her. To her, scenery is just that.

And it isn’t that she’s some sort of heretic. She isn’t against the idea of soulmates or of the world existing in more than three colors. She would like to see what the world looks like in color, sure. She wonders what green grass, and white carnations, and red velvet, and brown horses actually look like. She wonders what the world looks like through the eyes of someone who’s touched their other half, and who sees the world in an array of colors, instead of in monochromes. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to know; it’s just that she’s not hard pressed to find out.

In a word, she’s impartial. Books are written in black ink against plain paper, and that’s enough for her.

Anyway, her soulmate.

“So, you guys know my sister, right?”

Marnie and Jennifer look up from their game of tic tac toe, staring blankly at Summer. “Yes,” Marnie draws out, straightening in her seat. It’s their lunch period, which places them in the midst of rambunctious middle schoolers, with junk food clogging their arteries and Cheeto dust coating their fingers.

“We’ve pretty much known you forever, Sims,” Delilah points out. “It’s impossible not to know your siblings.”

Marnie nods. “Judging by that non-sequitur, something’s up with Brooke?”

Summer twirls her fork between her fingers, appearing far more disinterested than she actually is. “Not exactly.” She stills her fork, plunging it into her salad. “But she’s having her birthday party tonight, and inviting her friends.”

Jennifer takes pause, scrunching up her nose. “The Unholy Trinity?” Marnie can’t quite resist the urge to roll her eyes. While she’s aware that Brooke and her friends didn’t actually come up with it, she’ll never understand that name.

“Those would be the ones,” Summer nods. “They’re coming over, and you know they’re just going to invite their friends, and Mami will let them.” She lets out an agitated huff, shoveling an overstuffed forkful of salad into her mouth.

Delilah grimaces. “Okay, Sims, gross.” She plucks a napkin from Marnie’s lunchbox and hands it to Summer, who’s gotten ranch dressing all over her mouth. “And why do you care? Why not just come over to my place like you usually do when Brooke’s friends are over?”

If there’s one constant source of amusement in Marnie’s life, it’s how much Summer hates her siblings’ friends. Brooke’s best friends – Treasure and Lolita – and Taylor’s – Remy and Peter – have a knack for making her grumpy, with only the mention of their names. Marnie has no idea why Summer dislikes them all so much – she doesn’t even think Summer knows – but she has always gone out of her way to avoid them when possible. This usually means a night spent at Delilah’s, and some hurt feelings on Brooke’s part the next day. After years of this, one would think that Brooke would build up the same disregard for her sister’s behavior that Taylor has, but she still gets offended every time Summer dismisses her best friends.

Marnie is only partially convinced that Summer doesn’t act that way just to upset her sister.

“Yeah, I would,” Summer stresses, “except the moms want me to be there for her. Thirteenth birthday or whatever.”

“I love how much she cares,” Jennifer stage whispers to Marnie, bumping her shoulder as the two burst into giggles.

That gets a crouton tossed in their direction. “And I don’t want to have to put up with Brooke’s lame friends and their lame friends by myself.” A long suffering sigh escapes her lips, before she pouts pleadingly at her best friends. “Please come to this stupid party? It’d mean the world to me.”

Delilah tugs at the end of a strand of her soulmate’s hair.  “We’re going for Brooke,” she articulates. “At least, that’ll be the official story. You were really excited for your little sister to be turning thirteen, and you wanted as many people to come as possible, so you invited your friends, too. Okay?”

Summer swats her hand away. “Yeah, yeah, okay. So you’ll be there?” She looks to Jennifer and Marnie, beaming childishly at them.

Marnie stifles a sigh, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless, Pierce.”

And that’s how Marnie finds herself at the doorstep of the Lopez-Pierce residence, fidgeting awkwardly, and asking herself why she didn’t accept Delilah’s offer of a ride. She isn’t particularly close to Brooke or her friends. Unlike Summer, Delilah, and Jennifer, she isn’t very social. They’re the only friends she has, and she doesn’t really talk unless she’s with them. She only talks when it’s the four of them, so why would she come to a party and risk being alone?

She’s here for Summer, she reminds herself. She’s here to keep Summer from ruining her sister’s thirteenth birthday party, or smothering herself with a pillow to get out of it.

“The doorbell’s not going to ring itself, genius.”

Marnie whirls around, almost tripping over herself. “W-what?”

A younger girl – Treasure, she thinks – rolls her eyes. “The doorbell.”

One of the boys with her – there are four, who the hell goes anywhere with four boys who look way too old to be here – nudges her disapprovingly. “Stop being rude, Tre,” he admonishes. His gaze shifts to Marnie, and he gives her an apologetic smile. “Sorry about her. You–”

The door is ripped open, and Marnie flinches away from it, only to relax when she sees that it’s just Summer. “Why are you just standing there,” her best friend asks in an impatient tone.

Unlike with Treasure, Marnie is used to her lack of courtesy, and just gives her a hard look. “Trying to remind myself of why I let you talk me into this,” she quips back, softening when Summer sticks her tongue out at her.

“Well, this is fun,” Treasure chirps sarcastically. “But it’s kind of cold out here, and I think we’d all like to go inside.”

In a way that only she would, Summer ignores Treasure altogether, taking Marnie’s wrist in her hand. “Come on. Ferret and Deli are already here, and I don’t trust Brooke not to hide the chocolate covered strawberries.”

As her best friend drags her inside, Marnie glances back at the group at the door. Treasure’s cheeks are tinted red, either in anger or humiliation at being so blatantly ignored, and the boys seem to still be processing the exchange. Marnie just shrugs, giving them a conciliatory smile.

The house is already filled with people Brooke has befriended over the years. All three Hudson children are in attendance, as well as the Chang siblings, and pretty much everyone with the last name Puckerman is making themselves comfortable at the snack table. The Anderson-Hummels are there, too, Jessica playfully bickering with her older brother. Delilah’s younger sister, Dylan, is there, too, though Mason and Ruby are nowhere to be seen. There are a few more people there that Marnie doesn’t recognize, and she shrinks into herself.

Summer leads her down the hall towards the rec room. She isn’t entirely sure why the Lopez-Pierce family has such a large house when there are only five people living in it, but it makes it easier to avoid social situations. Taylor has probably already taken his friends to the home theater – because they actually have one of those, Marnie has no idea why – as it’s the room he has unofficially claimed for avoiding his little sisters’ friends. The rec room is Summer’s Avoiding My Sister’s Lame Friends room; probably because it has the pinball machine and Pac-Man. It’s become as close to a home that Marnie will ever get in this house, so the sight of it eases the anxiety gnawing at her heart.

Delilah and Jennifer are already curled up on the couch, discussing what sounds like the pros and cons of living in the 60’s – a conversation they abruptly stop before Marnie can join in, which is probably for the best – when they enter, and they grin when they see the last of their quartet arrive. “Took you long enough, Mar,” Delilah says, tossing a Jolly Rancher into her mouth.

“I got held up at the door,” she explains, crawling onto the couch by Jennifer. “Treasure and some guys…”

Summer plops down on the other side of Delilah, releasing an annoyed grunt. “Apparently, one of those guys is her brother. Brooke asked her to bring him, and his friends. Keep in mind that Brooke doesn’t even know these guys.”

Delilah elbows her soulmate. “Stop complaining about everything, Sims, honestly. It’s one night, and your sister just wanted people here. Let her live.”

The subject is dropped after that, and the girls fall into their easy flow of conversation. Subjects change at the speed of light, the way they always do with them. At some point, they end up on the floor, limbs twined in a way that’s equally comfortable and uncomfortable. Marnie and Delilah lie side by side, their heads pillowed on Summer’s stomach and thighs, Summer’s arm tossed out to the side, Delilah fiddling with her fingers. Jennifer lies across their tangled legs, hair tickling their exposed stomach, shirts having ridden up long before. Delilah’s elbow digs into Marnie’s side, and every time Summer laughs, the entire group is shaken. But it’s comfortable, lying like this, lost in the felicity of the moment.

Marnie has no idea how much time passes before Brooke walks into the room. She glares at the group as a whole, crossing her arms over her chest in a typical pissed off little sister fashion. Having been in their lives since she was four, Brooke has more or less grown up viewing all of them as sisters. Even though Jennifer is a year younger than Brooke – a minor detail that Summer will never let her forget – they’re all kind of her big sisters. Ergo, she doesn’t have to be polite about her agitation. “You can’t hide in here forever.”

“We can, actually,” Summer points out, because it’s practically impossible to ask her not to piss her siblings off. “At least until your party ends.”

Delilah pokes her soulmate in the boob. “Her birthday, Sims.”

“But hiding out’s no fun,” someone else speaks. Treasure, Lolita, and the four boys from before all enter the room and Marnie recoils. Delilah’s hand curls around her own, the pad of her thumb rubbing over her friend’s knuckles soothingly. The boy who spoke – tall, with a wide, goofy grin, and what looks like a bruise forming on his collar bone – leans against the wall next to the Pac-Man machine. “The fun of parties is interacting with everyone.”

Summer opens her mouth to argue, but Jennifer quickly mutters, “Summer, say nothing.” The older girl obediently shuts her mouth.

Brooke rolls her eyes, shaking her head in irritation. “Whatever. I’m going back to my party.” She storms out of the room without another word. Lolita doesn’t hesitate to follow her out, and Marnie pinches Summer to keep her from spewing what she just knows will be offensive quips.

Treasure, shockingly, just sighs and makes her way into the room. She drops down next to their entanglement, sitting criss-cross by Delilah’s legs. “She’s just going to go flirt with Harry again.”

Summer scoffs. “Why do you think we’re hiding in here? It’s horrible watching the two of them together.”

One of the boys – with dark coiffed hair and dainty fingers – chuckles. “I never thought thirteen year olds could flirt that hard.”

“Welcome to my world,” Summer grins, manic and just asking for trouble. “I’m Summer. The two laying on me are Marnie and Delilah. And the tiny one laying on them–”

“I am not tiny, shut up—”

“—is Jennifer. Want to avoid Brooke’s party with us?”

Jennifer lifts a hand to swat at Summer’s hand – though that’s probably because of the tiny comment, rather than the offer – without looking. “Treasure’s her best friend, dummy. Not everyone here is terrible like you.”

“Actually, I’d rather stay in here,” Treasure speaks, leaning her weight back on her hands. “I love Brooke, but the rest of the night will be her flirting with Harry, and Lolita mooning after Sami, who I’m pretty sure is crushing on that Dani kid.”

The girls are quiet for a moment, before Delilah’s lips twitch. “Want to join the huddle?”

“This is not a huddle, it’s—”

“Marnie, hush. Treasure?”

Treasure eyes them for a second – which is understandable, seeing as they’ve never actually talked to Treasure, and the one time Marnie had, she’d been pretty rude about it – before shrugging. “Yeah, why not.” Jennifer scoots further up their legs until her head is on Delilah’s hip, and Treasure lies down next to her. “Oh, yeah – the boys. The one with the light hair is my brother, Josiah. The one by the wall is his best friend, Landon. The one with the hair is Sterling, and the one who looks like he’s ready to run is Reid.”

“Do you guys always travel in packs,” Jennifer blurts, squinting her eyes at them. “Or is it just because you’re at a thirteen year old girl’s birthday party?”

“Yes,” Landon answers unhelpfully. He walks further into the room, lying across the couch as if he owns it. Josiah rolls his eyes fondly, taking a seat in front of the couch, in the spot Treasure previously occupied. Sterling drags Reid over to the pinball machine with the fervor of someone who knows for sure they’ll win. “And you say it like we asked to be here.”

“Then why are you here,” Summer asks, with her usual lack of decorum. “I don’t even want to be here. And I live here.”

Josiah laughs freely, a sound that brings a smile to Landon’s lips. “Treasure asked,” Josiah says simply. “And I’m kind of terrible at telling her no.”

“Wherever Josiah goes, Landon follows,” Sterling informs them, laser-like focus on the game of pinball. “And Reid and I have to go, otherwise Landon might succeed in talking Josiah into doing something stupid.”

“That would never happen.”

Landon smirks at his best friend. “That’s what you think.”

“Summer, say nothing,” Marnie warns when she feels Summer take in a preparatory breath. She meets Josiah’s eyes as he throws a curios look in her direction. She gives him a timid smile. “She has a knack for sticking her foot in her mouth at any given opportunity.”

“All part of my charm,” Summer sing-songs, eliciting an eye roll from her three best friends.

Suddenly, Jennifer gasps, looking over at Treasure. “Wait, Landon Smythe?”

Treasure nods, confusion written across her face. “Yeah. Why?”

“Ronan’s big brother!”

Landon perks up at the name of his little brother. “You know Nano?”

“He’s the only person she talks to that’s actually her age,” Delilah teases, giggling when Jennifer threatens to bite her. “He’s a cute kid.”

“First of all, you’re not that much older than me, Deli, can it. And second, we are not kids!”

“Compared to us,” Reid pipes up, “you are. But that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah,” Sterling agrees, distractedly. “It’s adorable.”

Jennifer whines, drawing laughs from all of her companions. “Oh,” Marnie winces, putting a hand on her stomach. “Okay, let me up.”

Treasure sits up, giving Marnie a concerned look. “What’s wrong?”

Summer snickers. “She has to pee.”

Jennifer sits up, scooting away from her. “Here,” Sterling says, offering a hand to Marnie. She sits up carefully – otherwise she might actually explode – and takes his hand. He pulls her up, and the world spins. A cluster of colors bursts in her vision, all hitting her so fast that it makes her nauseous. “Hey. You good?”

She stares blankly into his eyes, blinking, then shaking herself out of it. He didn’t feel it. “I’m good,” she lies, nodding. “Except my bladder is going to do some serious damage to my insides if I don’t get to the bathroom, ASAP.”

Delilah flicks her ankle. “Then go, girl!”

Marnie sees the out that she’s been offered, and she takes it.

She spends more time than her pride will let her admit to freaking out. It isn’t that she cares so much about having a soulmate, or even about her soulmate being at least two years her senior. She isn’t too worried about that, at all. What freaks her out is that she doesn’t seem to be his soulmate. It’s not an unheard of occurrence. There are thousands of people whose soulmate links aren’t mutual. She knows that, has all of the statistics memorized, but it still freaks her out.

She has never cared about finding her soulmate, but she had always thought – she’d thought that when they finally met, it would be something amazing. It would be a new thing for both of them, and they would be mutually amazed by the kaleidoscopic colors blossoming in their vision. She had thought – foolishly, she’ll admit – that it would be like Summer and Delilah, and that her soulmate would become her best friend.

She had never banked on it being the older brother of a girl she’d never even spoken to.

Once she’s calmed down and her bladder’s been emptied, she takes a deep breath, splashing water on her face. She didn’t want much out of the soulmate connection, anyway. She doesn’t necessarily care that she found her soulmate, or even that she isn’t his. It’s perfectly reasonable for her to freak out, anyway, right? Anyone would. You’re fine, she tells herself. It’s not even that big of a deal.

When she exits the bathroom, she isn’t expecting to find Josiah standing there. “Oh,” she squeaks in surprise. “…Hi?”

Josiah – who’s blond, and has alluring green eyes – gives her a smile. “Reid.”

She blinks. “Um… what?”

“Sterling’s soulmate,” he tells her, seeming ignorant to the way her heart stops. “It’s Reid.” He tips his head to the side, eyes analyzing her. “You were wondering why he didn’t react to the touch, right?”

Marnie jerks away from him. “I—I don’t—”

“Landon,” Josiah interrupts. “He’s my soulmate.”

She waits for a second before asking, “Are you…?”

His lips spread into a melancholic smile. “We got the short ends of the stick.”

( see also: unrequited feelings. )

Marnie lets out an oomf! as her body collides with the ground. It’ll leave some nasty bruises, no doubt, but she doesn’t have the time to think about that. She scrambles to her knees, trying desperately to crawl away, gun clutched tightly in her hand.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” A strong arm folds around her waist, and she lets out a terrified shriek as it yanks her back. She tries to get away, but is held down in place. She’s helpless as her assailant straddles her hips, the barrel of his gun pressed against her forehead. He smirks, smug and unbothered, as she looks up at him, a defiant gleam in her eyes. “I win.”

Marnie raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What? Pinning down a girl half your size is your ultimate power move?”

Sterling’s complacent smirk is replaced by a pointed look. “Way to make it sound weird.”

“You’re straddling a fifteen year old girl, Sterling. It is weird.”

“But it’s not like that,” he whines, holding up his gun. “It’s a Nerf war. Everything goes.”

Well, there’s no denying that. “You’re right,” Marnie concurs. “Which is why this isn’t cheating.”

Sterling gives her a confused look. “Why what isn’t—” An arrow dart hits the back of his head, then another, then a thicker bullet from a mega blaster hits him between the shoulder blades. While he’s reeling from the shock, Marnie lifts her own gun – a pistol – and shoots him in the forehead. She’s not strong enough to push him off of her, but she’s confident that she won this round, if the hurt look on his face is anything to go by. “Did you turn my best friends against me?”

Marnie gives him a sweet smile. “You still have Reid.”

“Had,” Landon corrects, coming down the stairs. He makes a frighteningly good sniper. Josiah steps out from the corner he’d strategically hidden himself in, crossbow propped up on his shoulder. “Nano took him out with an arrow to the heart. And Treasure’s hunting down the girls now.”

Sterling stares at them in shock for a moment before pouting. “I can’t believe you jerks teamed up. What are you going to do when you take all of us out?”

“Turn on each other,” Josiah answers, as if it should be obvious. “Have you not seen the Hunger Games?”

“Does that make you Cato or Glimmer?”

“I like to think I’m closer to Finnick than either of them.” Josiah contemplates the question. “Nano would probably be Peeta with a bow, Treasure’s Glimmer, Landon is probably Marvel. And if I had to guess…” His eyes shift down to Marnie. “That would be Cato.”

Sterling looks back at Marnie, before scrambling off of her. “The horrifying part is that you’re not wrong.” He assists Marnie to her feet, then sighs. “I’m going to go try to save the girls. If I’m lucky, Treasure hasn’t crushed them yet.”

“I’ll come with,” Landon offers, tossing an arm over Sterling’s shoulders as they disappear down the hallway.

Once alone, Marnie and Josiah exchange manic grins, and she high fives him in glee. They had come up with the idea of teaming up when Delilah had confessed to wanting nothing more than a Nerf war for her birthday. They had thought about including her in their Career pack, but to do that, they would’ve had to eject someone else, and every member was vital to their game plan. They hadn’t expected it to work so well – it’s almost five minutes into the game, and they’ve yet to suffer any hits.

“I’m Cato?” Marnie asks, incredulous but amused.

Josiah shrugs. “This was all your idea. Granted, you’re a lot smarter than Cato was, but that’s neither here nor there. And the closest they have to Katniss is Ferret, but I don’t think she’ll last to the end of the Games.”

Marnie rolls the idea around in her head for a moment, before shrugging. “Ronan’s probably going to win this, and I’m honestly okay with that.”

“Ronan? Have you seen Treasure with that Rampage?”

“Oh, she’s definitely making it to the end,” Marnie concedes. “But Ronan’s a deadshot. He can lay eyes her from any distance, and will have shot her in the head four times before she’s even lined up her shot. But she’s definitely going to take the rest of us out before she faces him off.”

Josiah nods forlornly. “Probably. We’ll just have to step up our game in the next round.”

“Change our strategy, too,” Marnie points out. “They know that we’ve teamed up now. We have to – oh my god!” Driven by pure terror, Marnie jumps into Josiah’s arms, legs wrapping high around his waist. He staggers back, having not been expecting that. “Did you see that?”

“I didn’t see anything,” the eighteen year old says, carrying her effortlessly over to the kitchen. He sets her down on the counter, giving her a confused and amused look. “What scared you so much?”

A blush colors Marnie’s cheeks, and her bottom lip juts out. “There was this bug…”

Josiah eyes her for a moment before bursting out laughing. “A bug? Really, Monkey?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Monkey?”

“Do I really need to recount how many times you’ve climbed me in the past year?”

“Do I really need to tell you how wrong that sounds,” Treasure drawls, striding into the kitchen with a confident swing of her hips, blue gun dangling from her fingers. “And if we’re nicknaming, I’m calling it right now, Landon’s Beastie.”

Landon scoffs, rolling his eyes at her. “Okay, Monster.”

Marnie looks back to Josiah. “If I’m Monkey, then what are you?”

“Charmander,” Jennifer proposes, as the rest of them file into the room. “I think Jose would make a pretty good Charmander. And I think I will stick with Ferret, thank you.” She leans into Josiah as he presses a brotherly kiss to her forehead.

“I vote we stay completely unoriginal and call Reid Doc,” Summer offers up, elbowing the boy in question.

Reid shrugs. “I don’t care,” he bluntly states. Honestly, he doesn’t care about much at all. “I vote baby bird for Sterling.”

Sterling flounders indignantly. “No.”

Everyone else voices their agreement with Reid, which elicits a frosty silence and a pout from Sterling. (It’s just not his night.)

“Ronan can be brother bear,” Treasure suggests. “I think it fits him.”

“So the real question,” Marnie prompts, wrapping her arms around Landon’s neck as he leans his back into her. “What do we call Delilah?”

“Is defenestration legal in Ohio?”

“Defenestration isn’t legal anywhere.” Her words finally sink in, and Marnie’s forehead wrinkles as a frown forms of her face. She shifts the cell phone against her ear. “How do you even know what that word means?”

She can practically hear the indignant eye roll. “I know things, too, Marnie.” A beat. “It was in the word of the day calendar Donnie got me for Christmas last year.”

“Ah.” Last Christmas had been more of a gag year; she doesn’t think a single honest gift was exchanged amongst the group. Settling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Marnie continues washing the dishes. It isn’t her kitchen night, but Chelsea is sick, and she’s too kind to make her ailing sister tire herself out over a few dishes and a broom. “Is there a reason you’re thinking about throwing someone out of a window?”

Summer scoffs, sharp and sarcastic. “I’m always thinking of throwing someone out of a window,” she says, and if the eleven years that they’ve been friends are anything to go by, she isn’t bluffing. “It’s just that now there’s a word for it.”

“Psychopathic,” Marnie supplies. “That’s the word you’re looking for. Defenestration is just the act.”

“Whatever,” Summer dismisses. “Hey, Monkey?”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

“How do you deal with it? With your soulmate being…”

Marnie freezes, before forcing herself to keep moving. “There’s nothing to deal with,” she maintains. “Sterling is his own person, and it isn’t as if I love him or anything. I mean, I love him, it’s—”

A noise from Summer cuts her off. “I get it. I mean, I don’t believe you for a second—” Marnie winces. It’s incredibly difficult to hide a crush from someone who’s known you for eleven years. Granted, even Josiah knows about her feelings, but Marnie actually told him. “—but I get the gist. Still. Doesn’t it, like… bother you? To see him—”

“Fawn over Reid?” Marnie finishes for her, draining the dish water. “Sometimes, I guess. He tries to be fair.” It had been damn near impossible to tell Sterling that he was her soulmate; she’d almost had a heart attack just at the prospect of having to. But Josiah – who’d only known her for a week at the time – had allowed her to hold his hand while she did so, and then hide out in his treehouse until it finally sunk in. After finding out, Sterling had promised her that even though he didn’t return the connection, he would still be the best soulmate he could be. “He answers every time I call, comes whenever I need him, and he understands why I just randomly show up at his place sometimes. I can’t get mad at him for wanting to spend time with Reid; they’re mutual soulmates.”

“And he’s in love with him.”

One foot stumbles over the other, and Marnie is almost sent sprawling to the ground. She scrambles to keep her phone by her ear, gripping it tightly. “He – what?”

Summer is quiet for a few minutes. “Nothing, babe. I sh – I don’t know why I said that, sorry. I guess I’m just projecting.”

“Projecting?” That seems like a much easier topic to delve into than who Sterling may or may not be in love with. Marnie isn’t sure that’s something she’ll ever be ready to talk about.

It’s eerily silent on the other end, and then Summer sighs. “I think Delilah has a crush on someone.”

Marnie blinks. That’s new. “She… does? Is it—”

“It’s not me,” Summer states dryly. “She always gets this feeling, like I can’t describe, but it’s never around me. When I asked about it, she started blushing and got all fidgety.”

Marnie takes some time to process this, wiping down the counters as she thinks. “Does it bother you because she’s your soulmate, or because you love her?”

“The latter,” Summer recognizes. “Maybe both? I don’t know. Taylor says I should be happy for her, regardless. It’s not my place to get possessive.”

“You told Taylor?” It isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, she supposes. Summer has notably matured in recent years, and has grown closer to her siblings as a result. The only friend that she’s befriended is Treasure – much to Brooke’s chagrin – but she’s less of a brat to the others. It isn’t impossible that Summer would tell Taylor about her feelings, but– “Before me?” That’s unlikely.

Summer hums. “Not really. He noticed I was upset, and kind of just figured it was Lilah. She’s pretty much the only reason I ever sulk.”

That’s not news. “So who are you throwing out of a window?”

There’s a pause, then she just imagines the smile forming on Summer’s face, sharp, beautiful, and horrifying all at once. “Whoever she likes, of course.”

“Summer, you creep.”

“I’m stealing her,” Treasure declares as she storms into Josiah’s room. Her hand clasps around Marnie’s wrist, and she tugs her out of the computer chair she’d been chilling in.

“Whoa, hey,” Josiah interrupts, sitting up in bed. “We were having a conversation, Treasure.”

The blonde whirls on her brother, eyes narrowing to slits. “You have three other best friends – who, I remind you, are your age – and you choose to hide yourself in a room with a seventeen year old girl?”

Marnie’s eyes widen, and she lets out a quiet proclamation of shock. The age differences in the group is something that they rarely speak of. None of them have anything to be ashamed of, they know. But with the boys all reaching twenty this year, and none of the girls being over seventeen – Ronan and Jennifer still at fifteen – the ragtag group is often the subject of gossip, as no one outside of the group can figure out why the ages vary so heavily within the group. None of them are ashamed of it, but they stray from the topic anyway. And Treasure is undoubtedly saying that to strike a nerve. “Hey, it’s fine,” Marnie placates, laying a hand on Treasure’s arm. “Let’s go, okay?” She throws Josiah a repentant smile. “I’ll be back.”

Treasure just lets out a low grunt, and continues to drag Marnie out of the room. The brunette is quiet as her blonde friend leads her down the hallway, to the room that she’s slept in so many times, she’s lost count. It’s hilarious to think that, just three years ago, the two had never even spoken to each other; even funnier to think that the first words exchanged between them had been the doorbell isn’t going to ring itself, genius. Though Marnie is admittedly closer to Josiah, she easily counts Treasure as one of her best friends. Even if they don’t have the same extensive history, she’s one of the girls.

Treasure closes the door behind her, and the two girls make themselves comfortable on her bed. “What’s wrong,” Marnie asks immediately. Treasure is historically irascible, but it isn’t often that she turns her wrath on her older brother. Their relationship isn’t the same as Landon and Ronan’s, but they’re rather close, as far as siblings go.

The blonde sighs, dragging a hand through her curls. Treasure is one of those people who are annoyingly beautiful. It’s not an effortless thing, make no mistake. Marnie has witnessed firsthand how long it takes Treasure to get ready in the morning. But even without the aid of cosmetics, Treasure is gorgeous. Her skin is a natural tan that makes most girls jealous after only glancing her way. Her hair is naturally curly, though she spends a significant amount of time curling them into larger ringlets when she wakes up in the morning. Her eyes are an unnatural blue that kind of just makes Marnie wants to smack her every time she sees her. Treasure turns those eyes on her, and Marnie sees a vulnerability there that she doesn’t often show. “My birthday’s coming up,” she preludes.

Marnie arches an eyebrow. “I’m aware.”

“Right. And I – I had this idea for what I wanted to do.” She nibbles on her lower lip, a nervous twitch that she’s never quite grown out of. “I wanted to have a masquerade ball. And it’s dorky, I know—”

“No,” Marnie disagrees. “I actually think that’s pretty awesome, Tre.”

Treasure beams at her, wide and grateful, before it fades. “I wanted to have it, and I talked to my parents about it. It won’t cost too much; I’ve looked over the pricing a hundred times, set a low budget, and everything. It’ll be pricey, but Josiah’s thirteenth birthday party cost almost twice as much.”

How do you even know that? Marnie very carefully does not ask that.

“And my dad is totally on board. He thinks it’s a great idea, and he’s willing to go for it. But my mom doesn’t think so. She thinks it’s too big and flashy for a sixteenth birthday. Which it’s not; if I wanted to go big and flashy, I could do much more than invite some people in dresses and masks over. But my mom is being—”

“Intransigent,” Marnie provides.

Treasure nods slowly, supposedly weighing the word. Marnie isn’t sure her friend knows what it means, but this is Marnie’s playground. If she says a word fits, it probably does. “She refuses to see reason,” Treasure continues. “I’ve gone over the pricing with her, but she swears that I’ve calculated wrong, and that this whole thing will be more trouble than it’s worth, and I hate that she won’t just listen to me.”

Marnie silently wonders why Treasure is coming to her about this. Is it because she wants Marnie to talk to her mother, or because she knows Marnie can relate? Growing up with her militant, perfectionist mother, she knows better than anyone how impossible it can be to convince someone – most of all, a parent – who refuses to listen. Treasure – who has met her mother, and has watched them go at each other’s throats – knows this.

( intransigent: adjective. unwilling to change one’s views or to agree about something; unyielding. )

Marnie swallows the vile feeling at the prospect of being used because of her acidic relationship with her mother, and gives Treasure a comforting smile, placing a hand atop of her. “I’ll go over the budgeting, okay? Your mom knows me. She knows how seriously I am about my math. We can all sit down and talk it out, and if she wants to change something, we can work it out, okay?”

Treasure relaxes, turning her hand in Marnie’s to grip it tightly. “Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

“It’s always implied,” Marnie reassures her, planting a kiss on her cheek. She steps off of the bed, stretching when both of her feet are on stable ground. “I should go back before your brother thinks I’ve dumped him for you.”

The blonde nods, oddly silent. Then, as Marnie’s leaving, she calls: “Marnie?”

The brunette turns back to look at her, hand on the doorknob.

“You…” She shakes her head, blonde locks swinging slightly. “Nevermind. Stupid question.” She gives her friend a smile, folding her hands in her lap. Something in her eyes tells Marnie that it isn’t nearly as stupid as Treasure would like her to believe, but she knows better than to push. If Treasure wanted her to know, she would’ve said. So Marnie only returns her smile, and leaves the room.

When she’s gone, Treasure’s smile drops and her shoulders sink. She drags a hand over her face. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Marnie.”

Marnie won’t admit it to anyone, but she still isn’t all that fond of crowds. It isn’t quite as much a fear as it used to be, which is good enough for her. Less of a fear, she supposes, and more of a geared hatred. She doesn’t go out of her way to avoid them, but she usually tries to avoid situations in which she’s likely to run into them. They’re easier to handle when she’s with a friend – especially the boys; she’s a feminist, through and through, but there’s no denying the safety and comfort she feels when she has one of them pressed against her back, quietly guiding her through thick masses, their large frames concealing her entire back, towering over her just so – but never pleasant, despite.

As one might assume, Treasure’s birthday party pulls in a rather large crowd. One that, of course, she can’t avoid. Even her slight claustrophobia wouldn’t explain her missing her best friend’s sweet sixteen.

She comforts herself by staying against the wall. She swishes a glass of fruit punch – probably spiked – in her hand distractedly, her eyes roaming over the crowd. Everyone seems to be having a good time, thankfully. Treasure dances with Brooke and Lolita – they’re still friends, of course, still ruling school with an attitude that garners them a less than favorable reputation, but they don’t seem too hard pressed to change that – shining all over. She looks like royalty, Marnie notes with no shortage of amazement. This may as well be her coronation, rather than a belated birthday bash.

Summer and Delilah dance with each other, playfully (and not so playfully) grinding against each other every so often. Ronan and Jennifer dance at a much more relaxed pace, holding up steady conversation as he twirls her, oddly in rhythm with the hip-hop that plays over the loud speakers. Landon is dancing between two girls she’s never seen before, pressed tight against them, and though she highly doubts he plans on going anywhere with this, he really needs to stop leading teenagers on. Sterling pushes Reid to the dancefloor, whispering coaxing words in his ear.

Her grip on her glass tightens.

She hasn’t seen Josiah all night, but that’s hardly a surprise. He’s been avoiding her for some time, now. She doesn’t think they’ve had an actual conversation since the night Treasure pulled her into her room to talk about the birthday party. According to Summer, the siblings had gotten into some cataclysmic fight that night, and hadn’t talked to each other for a week afterwards. They had made up, of course, but Josiah’s relationship with Marina – he’d actually called her Marina – had changed. Even Sterling had noticed, and it’s rare that he notices anything that doesn’t directly involve Reid. Though that may just be her bitterness talking.

Rolling her eyes at herself, Marnie knocks back her glass of punch, and ventures over to get another glass. She’ll probably be drunk off her ass before the night is up, but it’s preferable to wallowing in self-pity.

“You look like you could use a pick me up.”

She jumps, almost dropping her glass, and turns to face an amused Sterling. “Sterling! Hi! What – weren’t you just—?”

“Summer and Delilah are with Reid,” he says, nodding to where the pre-med student is reluctantly dancing with the two girls. At some point, a slow song had started, and he takes turns spinning them around.

“So I’m your second choice,” she mutters before she can think about it. She groans, slapping a hand to her face. Her pristine white glove slides against her glittered mask, and she puts it back at her side. “I’m buzzed. Forget I said that.”

“Dance with me,” Sterling requests, instead of responding, which gives her the impression that he certainly will not forget it.

“Sterling, no, I—”

“Not because of that,” he assures her, taking her hand. She stubbornly ignores the way her heart skips a beat. “I was coming over to ask you to dance, anyway. And not because Reid is busy, either. Because I want to dance with you. Please?”

Marnie stares at him for a few notes, then sighs, setting down her empty glass. He grins, leading her out onto the dance floor. Sam Smith sings loudly and melodiously, the piano seeming to follow his lead. How will I know if you really love me, he begs, I say a prayer with every heartbeat. I fall in love whenever we meet, I’m asking you what you know about these things.

Sterling guides Marnie’s arms around his neck, then wraps his own around her waist. They sway back and forth, and she holds back a blush. She’s never been this girl. She’s never cared about soulmates, or about boys, or about anyone but her girls. It’s baffling that Sterling so easily reduces her to a blushing mess, seemingly without even knowing what he’s doing. She wonders if Reid really has no idea how he feels; wonders how Reid could possibly not return those feelings.

(Because love between soulmates isn’t necessarily pathological, or requited. The bond may be mutual, but the feelings aren’t always.)

“I’m sorry,” Sterling says suddenly, snapping her from her reverie.

Her face contorts in confusion. “What for?”

“Being a crappy soulmate,” he says simply. “And I know that our bond isn’t mutual, but I’m still your soulmate. I’m still supposed to be there for you, and I’m not there nearly as much as I should be. I know it seems like I’m always choosing Reid over you, but—”

“I get it,” Marnie states before he can continue. “He’s your soulmate, and you’re his. It would be weird if you paid more attention to me than him.” She doesn’t mention his blatantly obvious feelings. He hasn’t acknowledged them yet; she isn’t even sure if he knows about them.

Sterling shakes his head. “It’s not that.  I mean, yeah, it is that. He’s my soulmate, I’m biologically engineered to always want to be with him. But it’s more than that. He’s my best friend, too. And he’s…”

Marnie raises an eyebrow.

“He’s alone,” Sterling says at last. “After his parents…” Marnie nods. She remembers the day they all realized Reid’s parents had abandoned them, and he had neglected to tell them. She remembers how hurt they’d been that he’d hidden it, how angry they’d been at his parents, how angry Sterling had been with himself for not noticing; how Landon and Reid had numerous shouting matches as a result of Reid being a secretive dick, and Landon having more secrets than he even knew what to do with. It had been a hard time for all of them, but Reid most of all. “Sometimes, I worry about him. I think that if I’m not around him enough, he’ll disappear, too. Or he’ll convince himself that we’ve all abandoned him, like they did.”

It’s actually sound reasoning, as illogical as it may seem. Reid has never been an assertive guy. He’s passive to a fault, and so rarely ever says what’s on his mind. If he is ever to be left again, he would silently sit back and let it happen, never once speaking of his pain, or even allowing himself to feel it. It would be so easy for him to convince himself that he’s being abandoned. It makes sense that Sterling would attach himself to him in the way that he has. “That’s actually kind of sweet,” Marnie confesses, smiling softly. “He’s really lucky to have you as a friend.”

Sterling smiles appreciatively, spinning her before he pulls her back in. “But in doing that, I’ve neglected you. Which has never been my intent. I’ve never wanted that. And I want to make it up to you.”

“Oh?” She feels a smile tugging at her lips. “How so?”

“Go out with me.”

The words sink in, maybe too quickly, and her smile drops. She pulls out of his embrace, and tries to stamp down on her hurt. “This was a mistake.”

“Marnie, no.” He grabs her hand, pulling her back. “I shouldn’t have worded it like that. It’s not a pity date. And it’s not a sorry date. It’s me actually wanting to go out with you, and needing an excuse to ask.”

Her jaw remains clamped shut as she stares him down. She allows him to put her hands back on his shoulders and start swaying them, but she doesn’t speak.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while,” he admits. “But you’re only seventeen, and it’d look bad if I started dating you now. But I don’t want to keep waiting and end up losing you. So,” he attempts again, twirling her, and pulling her back to his chest, “when you turn eighteen, I want to take you out. If you’d let me.”

Marnie takes a few steadying breaths before she replies. “Are you asking me to wait for you?”

“Yes,” he confirms, turning her back so that they’re face to face. “You’ll be eighteen in, what, nine months? If you want to date someone in that time, I can’t stop you. But I’m asking you to remember that I asked you out first.”

Her lips twitch at the undertone of jealousy in his voice. “I doubt I’m going to start dating anyone before I turned eighteen. I haven’t dated anyone yet, have I?”

“That’s because you’re oblivious,” he says. “There are a lot of guys who want to go out with you. And they’re not going to stay quiet forever. So when they ask, remember that I, your soulmate,” he teases, “asked first, and has therefore called dibs.”

Unable to stay mad, Marnie laughs, readjusting her arms around his neck. “I’ll make a sticky note,” she promises.

Sterling grins. “That’s all I ask.”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Marnie glances behind him to find Josiah standing there, smiling at Sterling. “Mind if I cut in?”

I found myself dreaming, the girl on stage sings, in silver and gold, like a scene from a movie.

Sterling glances back at Marnie, then smiles at Josiah with an understanding that Marnie can’t quite place. He claps his friend on the shoulder, then walks off in the direction of the refreshment table. “Careful not to get too close,” Marnie warns Josiah, an unforgiving gaze turned on him. “You might actually have to talk to me.”

Josiah winces, stepping close. “I deserved that,” he accepts, slipping his hands onto her waist. She glares at him as she connects her fingers behind his neck, allowing him to guide her in an informal waltz. “But it looks like Treasure is finally rubbing off on you.”

“I’ve known Summer since she was five,” Marnie reminds him. “I had an arsenal of sarcastic responses years before I met Treasure.”

“Granted,” he agrees. “Look, Monkey, I really am sorry for how I’ve been acting. I—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off, not really interested in an excuse. “You’re dancing with me, and that’s good enough.” She glances behind him to where Landon and Treasure are pressed close together, gazing adoringly at each other as they dance. “Oh.”

That every broken heart knows. We were walking on moonlight, and you pulled me close. Split second and you disappeared and then I was all alone.

“Yeah,” Josiah grunts without turning to see what she’s looking at. “Treasure has it bad for him. And he doesn’t even notice.” He doesn’t seem to notice how bad he has it for her, either, they both think, but neither of them say.

Marnie’s eyes snap back at to him. “Is that what you two fought about?”

He looks shocked that she knows about the fight, but shakes his head. “Not that. She knows how I feel about him, so she won’t try to make a move on him. And she’s underage, so he won’t make a move, either. At this point, there’s really nothing anyone can do, and no reason to be upset.”

She nods her understanding. “Then why did you two fight?”

“That’s why I’m dancing with you,” he confesses, twirling her around. “I have something I need to tell you. Tre was upset that I hadn’t told you before; she said that the longer I kept it from you, the more it would hurt you. I told her she was being ridiculous, and that you wouldn’t care, but she insisted. And, honestly, it’s kind of been wearing on me since them, and I don’t want to keep putting it off.”

I woke up in tears. With you by my side…

“You’re scaring me,” she tells him, her heart beating fast in her chest. “What do you need to tell me?”

A breath of relief, and I realized, the girl continues.

“I’m going to Europe,” he blurts, choosing to rip off the proverbial band aid. “There’s this expedition thing…” He rattles on about it, explaining the sights, and the tours, and the groups, but it all blurs together for her. She can’t hear anything over the words I’m going to Europe repeating in her head.

No, we're not promised tomorrow.

What is she going to do without him? He hasn’t been in her life for a long time, but it feels like he’s always been there. The thought of him not being there is unbearable. She never thought she would’ve become so close to the boy who’d waited outside of the bathroom, that night, to tell her that he knew what she felt. She never thought she would become so close to the boy whose sister had previously hated her. She never thought she would be closer to him than to any of the girls. But it quickly became her reality, and she’s always taken it for granted. She’s always assumed he would just be there. She thought him avoiding her was hard.

What is she going to do with him gone?

“Monkey?”

“You’re leaving?” She knows she should be happy for him, should grin and tell him all of the hot spots to visit. But it’s still sinking in that he’s going to be gone, and she’ll be here alone.

“It’s just for fifteen months.”

“Just fifteen months,” she repeats incredulously, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallows the lump rising in her throat.

So I'm gonna love you, like I'm gonna lose you. I'm gonna hold you, like I'm saying goodbye.

“Does – does Landon know?”

He hesitates. “He does.”

“And he’s… he’s okay with it?”

“He encouraged me to go,” he tells her, his voice blank.

Wherever we're standing,I won't take you for granted 'cause we'll never know when -- when we'll run out of time, so I'm gonna love you.

“Do you wish he’d told you not to go?” She asks carefully.

“I wish he’d tell me what he really feels,” he responds honestly. “I know Landon. He doesn’t do well with people leaving. I know he wants me to be happy, and he wants me to do whatever makes him happy. But I’ve always been here for him. With Hunter, and… I just don’t know if he really wants me to go.”

Marnie forces down her own feelings of how much she doesn’t want him to go. This isn’t about her. “You should go,” she advises. “Landon doesn’t want to hold you back. He won’t hold you back. And it’s just fifteen months, right? He’ll be here when you get back. We all will. You… you seem really excited,” she notes, forcing a smile to her face. “This is what you want, Josiah. And none of us are going to let you pass this up.” She thinks back to the understanding smile that Sterling had thrown his way, and realizes that she might be the last one to find out. She swallows bile, not letting her smile drop.

Like I'm gonna lose you.

Of course, he sees through it. “You don’t want me to go.”

“I do,” she lies, nodding vigorously. “I want you to go, I just… I’m really going to miss you,” she chokes out, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

I'm gonna love you, like I'm gonna lose you.

Marnie pulls away from him, pushing back tears. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she excuses herself, walking away before he can stop her. She feels his eyes on her, and wills herself not to break down.

“…Marnie?” Treasure calls as she passes them. Marnie hears her excuse herself from Landon, then the telltale sound of heels clicking against the ground, racing after her. “Marnie! Marnie, hey! Slow down!”

“Not now, Treasure, please,” Marnie pleads, turning to face her friend. She hates that the mask shows her eyes, undeniably wet and reddening.

In the blink of an eye, just a whisper of smoke.

Treasure’s eyes widen at the sight of her. “Come here.” She grabs Marnie’s hand, leading her off of the dance floor, and closer to the doors. “What happened?”

“Josiah’s leaving,” Marnie says, lacking the will to lie. “He’s leaving, and I – God, I’ve been so mad at him. And – it’s your birthday, Treasure, I’m so sorry—”

You could lose everything. The truth is you never know.

Treasure shushes her, pulling her into an embrace. “My brother is an idiot,” is all she says, allowing Marnie to cry on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

( heartbreak: definition pending. )

Marnie is ninety-eight percent sure this is an intervention.

She knows she needs to stop letting Jennifer’s bambi-eyes get to her; it’s the one thing other than Ronan’s tears that can lure her into any trap, and the group isn’t afraid to exploit that weakness. They always send in one of the two youngest when they want to convince Marnie of something that they know she wouldn’t do otherwise. And it isn’t that she’s incapable of saying no, even to them; she can say no, she just has a much harder time doing it when faced with doe eyes and Ronan tears.

A combination of the two is the perfect weapon to lure her into an intervention.

By the time she’s been seated on Delilah’s bed, she’s already come up with seven ways she can escape this. Ronan is the only boy in attendance – for some reason, he’s always included in the girls’ plans, willingly or no – and even he isn’t strong enough to keep her down if she chooses to run. She could just book it to the door, but that seems rather anticlimactic, so she discredits the plan entirely.

She sighs. “What is this?”

“An intervention,” Delilah states.

“Well, obviously,” Marnie snaps, low on patience. “But why?”

“That’s why,” Summer tells her. “You’ve been grumpy as hell for weeks now, and frankly, we’re getting sick of waiting for you to calm down.”

“That’s enough,” Jennifer mumbles, nudging Summer.

“I’m fine,” Marnie mutters, looking away from them.

“No, you’re not.” Treasure shares a glance with the other girls, then takes a seat on the bed with her. She reaches for Marnie’s hands, stifling a flinch when she pulls them away. “Babe, I know Josiah leaving was hard –”

“I don’t care that he left,” Marnie bites out without hesitation. “I told him he should go.”

“Because you’re a good friend,” Ronan nods. “You would never ask him to stay behind. But you would never want him to go, either. It hurts too much.”

Marnie shakes her head, standing from the bed. “I’m not doing this.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him,” Treasure calls after her.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, turning back to face her friends. “What are you talking about,” she asks in an irritated tone.

“Josiah. Why didn’t you just tell him you’re in love with him?”

Marnie’s eyes widen, and she hears someone mutter a low oh, shit. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Treasure doesn’t wither under her gaze. She stands confidently, her eyes ablaze in their own manner. “I’m not an idiot, Mars,” she says. “You think I didn’t notice?”

“He’s my best friend. Just because you can’t separate your feelings doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t!” She knows she’s being irrational. She knows that she’s not being fair, bringing up Landon, and she knows – maybe – that Treasure is right. But she won’t admit to it.

Treasure’s jaw tenses, but she stands strong. “This isn’t about him being your friend,” she snaps. “You think your feelings give a damn about what label you put on your relationship? You want more than a friend, but you’re too scared to go for it. Hell, you probably didn’t even realize that you wanted to until after he left!”

“Shut up,” Marnie shouts at her, silently grateful when Ronan holds her back. “You don’t know anything!”

Similarly, Delilah grabs Treasure’s hand, pulling her away from the shouting match, though it doesn’t seem to derail her in the least. “I do! I know my brother, and I know you! You realized that Sterling isn’t the only person you like, and that scares you! Now you’re scared at the thought of liking more than one person, and pissed because you realized it too late!”

“You are so full of it,” Marnie laughs, anger boiling in her veins. “I’m not you, Treasure, I don’t fall for people I know I can’t have!”

Treasure recoils, and Marnie knows she’s struck a nerve, but she feels no glee in it. When Treasure speaks again, her voice is silent but deadly. “You’re full of it,” she grits out. “You try so hard not to fall for people, because you’re so afraid of being rejected, but when you realize you can’t stop yourself, you lash out. You try to hurt everyone around you, so that no one realizes how much you’re hurting. You push away anyone who tries to help you. And your damn intransigent m—”

“My intransigence?”

“—your intransigent mindset makes you your own worst enemy,” Treasure continues. It’s probably offensive, but Marnie is surprised she remembers that word, or what it means. “You’re hurting yourself, and if you keep pushing, no one is going to help you anymore. When that happens, don’t you dare come crying back to us.”

This time, Treasure is the one who tries to storm out. No one stops her.

( 03:23 pm ) Are you okay?

( 03:24 pm) Why wouldn’t I be?

( 03:24 pm ) Don’t do that, Monkey.

( 03:25 pm ) Nano told me.

( 03:29 pm ) How much?

( 03:30 pm ) Just that you and Treasure had a fight yesterday.

( 03:31 pm ) Why?

( 03:31 pm ) No reason. I just didn’t know how much you’d heard.

( 03:31 pm ) It’s fine.

( 03:32 pm ) It’s not. I’m in Europe for one month, and you two are already at each other’s throat? What happened?

( unsent ) You left.

( 03:34 pm ) I’ve been an idiot. They were just trying to help me out, and I completely snapped. I want to apologize, but I’m too embarrassed to even call.

( 03:38 pm ) Realize that it’s Treasure you’re talking about. It’s not like she’s never done that before. All you have to do is apologize to her. She’ll forgive you for it.

( 03:40 pm ) Doesn’t make this any less embarrassing.

( 03:44 pm ) Just try. For me?

 ( 04:00 pm ) I’m sorry.

( 04:01 pm ) I am, too. I shouldn’t have said that stuff.

( 04:01 pm ) But you weren’t wrong.

( 04:02 pm ) I know that I love Sterling. I don’t doubt that at all.

( 04:03 pm ) And Josiah?

( 04:05 pm ) I don’t know.

 ( 04:07 pm ) Did you talk to her?

( 04:10 pm ) Monkey?

( 04:10 pm ) Yeah. Ronan asked me to.

( 04:12 pm ) Thank you.

( see also: tempus fugit )

It would be a blatant lie to say that the next fourteen months passed with any sort of speed. The group did everything in their power to make it pass quicker – for her, Treasure, and Landon – but the wait was unbearable, regardless of what they did.

In Josiah’s absence, a lot changed, she muses. For one thing, Treasure now had a boyfriend – and a girlfriend. Amy – her soulmate, actually – had been in her life since before he’d left, so it wouldn’t be much of a shock for him to know that. The shock would be in finding out that her ex-boyfriend, Caleb, had come back. It wasn’t shocking that the two of them had chosen to pick up where they left off. What was shocking was the toll that it was taking on her relationship with Amy. It wasn’t just Caleb that was wearing on the relationship, Marnie reminds herself. The relationship itself has too many problems of its own, with or without the aid of Caleb and his children.

Another notable thing would be that Marnie and Sterling are together now. He knows about it, of course. It isn’t something she had been able to keep herself from telling him about. Even now, she’s still reeling from the fact that Sterling chose her over Reid. She knows, rationally, that part of it has to do with Reid not even knowing about his feelings, let alone reciprocating. She still doesn’t know how Reid feels, other than that he’s not nearly as in love with Summer as he thinks.

Despite her uncertainty in their relationship – which she will never mention to Sterling – he had been faithful. The longing looks haven’t even slightly diminished, but he hasn’t done anything more than a bit of flirting. That, she doesn’t mind so much. She isn’t insecure enough to throw a fit every time he flirts with other people. Sterling isn’t the kind of guy who would cheat on anyone, least of all her. No matter how, she knows that he loves her. Far too much to ever hurt her that way. Be it with Reid or anyone else, she trusts that he’ll leave her before he even thinks to cheat.

The thing that’ll shake him the most, she thinks, isn’t her relationship or his sister’s. It isn’t how tall Ronan has gotten, or that Mister Smythe has found someone who makes him really happy. It isn’t that Summer’s little sister has gotten married, or that Jennifer now has a rapport with the cops. What will shake him the most is the one thing that she knows he doesn’t know, because no one has had the heart to tell him.

How are they supposed to tell him that Landon has met his soulmate?

The welcome back party is probably a bit much. It’s not that Josiah would mind having a party. He likes partying just as much as any of them; they all need nights of fun, every once in a while. Even Ronan enjoys the thumping music, the copious amounts of alcohol, and the dirty dancing, and he typically hates crowds. Marnie loathes crowds, and hates drunk people altogether, but partying is something she can always get behind.

This, however, is just a bit too much.

There are more people than they’d expected. The shocked look on Treasure’s face says as much, as people they probably don’t even know pour into the warehouse, clothes already disappearing. The music is louder than it has any business being, and there’s more alcohol than they know what to do with. Not to mention that someone ordered pizza and strippers, and Marnie honestly has no idea how this could not end horribly.

Most of the group members are drunk off their asses, she notes with disdain. Summer has a knack for stripping when she’s drunk, and she’s down to her shorts and a bra. Delilah either doesn’t notice, or is too drunk to complain about it. Ronan and Avia are making out under the strobe lights, more explicitly than is in either of their personalities. Landon and Penelope are putting their stripper moves to use, hips rolling and buttons opening more than is appropriate. She lost sight of the others a while ago, and can only hope that Jennifer isn’t getting roofied and whisked away by some douchebag that Landon will have to kill, leading to a horribly HTGAW scenario.

Marnie pushes her thoughts away, drinking some of her cup of whatever the hell is in the punch bowl. As far as she can tell, it’s ninety-nine percent alcohol, and one percent actual punch. She’s only had one cup, and she’s already feeling it kick in. She can see why the others have lost all sense of dignity; she’s seen each of them come back for at least two more doses. She has to bite back a smile at the thought of what comes next. Their hangovers will be a bitch.

“Why do we always find you straddling the wall?”

Her eyes slide from Treasure, who’s giving a strip tease on top of a table, to her approaching brother. “Parties aren’t my thing,” she yells over the music. “And even if they were, I want no part of this.”

Josiah winces, laughing inaudibly. “Yeah, I can’t argue with you there.” He takes the cup out of her hand, taking a long gulp of it, and leans back against the wall. “What the fuck is even in this?”

“No idea,” she shouts, taking the cup back. “But Treasure has had five cups, and Summer is about to take off her shorts. If I weren’t such a good friend, I’d be taking pictures right now.”

Josiah shakes his head fondly, a smile on his lips. It’s quiet between them for a few long minutes before he speaks again. “It’s her, isn’t it?” He glances over, chuckling at her questioning look. “Penelope. That’s her, isn’t it?”

Marnie freezes. Shit. She hadn’t thought she’d be the one to have to tell him. “Jose…”

He waves her off. “I’m not upset,” he lies, and he knows she sees through it. They know each other too well not to. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” she tells him honestly. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you, and no one else could. And he wanted to. I swear, he did, but he…”

“He didn’t want to hurt me,” Josiah finishes dryly. “Of course.”

“It sounds lame,” she concedes. “I know. But you know Landon. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you. Even…” Even if he did fall in love while you were gone.

Josiah nods a few times, as if trying to force those words to sink in. “Sterling and Reid are together right now.” He says it nonchalantly, as if it’s just a passing mention, but she knows it’s more than that. She doesn’t know if he intended to hurt her or not. She doesn’t know if that’s ever been his intention, but it still makes her look away from him. “They won’t remember me this in the morning.”

“No,” she agrees, reaching for another cup of punch. “They won’t. Probably a good thing.”

Josiah takes the cup from her, placing it back on the table, and he pulls her into his chest. His arms wrap around her waist from behind, and he rests his chin on her shoulder. “We really did draw the short sticks, didn’t we, Monkey?”

She can only smile sadly, reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. “Story of our lives, Charmander.”

[arliswolf]

we’re like a disney channel movie, minus the singing (sometimes, anyway)

chapter one: in fair verona, where we lay our scene

When Odeya is six years old, she falls asleep on the way to her grandparents’ house, and wakes up in the same car, going in a different direction.

“It’s not that icy out,” her father is saying to her mother, peering into the rear view mirror, then back out the window. Snow showers down around them, obscuring his view of the road more than Odeya is comfortable with. “You’re overreacting, honey.”

“I’m not overreacting,” her mother disagrees, nervously looking out of the passenger door window. “There’s a reason no one else is on the road, Jesse.”

“That’s because they’re scaredy cats,” he scoffs, playful cockiness apparent in the modulation of his voice. “Baby, we’re going to be fine. Don’t you trust me?”

Her mother tosses him an aggravated grimace. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s the weather. And the seven other idiots that chose to drive in this weather.” She worries her bottom lip, trying to see through the white blur that clouds her vision. “Can’t you just pull over?”

“Pull over where, Cynthia? There’s no hotel for miles, and we’ll freeze to death if I just stop here.”

“I don’t care, just stop the damn car!”

Jesse stifles an irritated sigh, and turns on his blinker, signaling to the cars behind him that he’s pulling over. He carefully shoulders off to the side of the road, thankfully avoiding any ice on the road. Once they’re parked, he cuts the engine, and smiles over at his wife. “See? I told you we’d be f----”

She wakes up on familiar couch in her grandparents’ house, and screams.

“They can’t come back here, Granma,” she cries, tugging on the woman’s hand. “Granma, they can’t! They’re going to die!”

“It was just a dream, child,” her grandmother repeats again and again, staring at her in bewilderment. “It was just a dream.”

Every part of Odeya wants to believe her, but some part of her just knows. She can’t explain it, can’t quite put into words how, but she knows that the dream wasn’t just a dream at all. Tears rush down her face without cease, and she tries again and again to get through to her grandparents.

When she’s tired herself out, she collapses into her grandpa’s arms. “They’re going to die,” she sobs as he rocks her back and forth, muttering promises that she knows he won’t be able to keep. “They’re going to die.”

“How did you know?”

Odeya stares blankly at her crying grandmother, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her black dress is pristine, spotless even after the long day she’s walked through. The funeral, and then the burial, and then the wake, and then the fake condolences from distant relatives and estranged family friends. She can see it in everyone’s eyes: they think that she’s bottling her grief, holding back for the sake of appearances, of all things. Surely, that must be it.

Why else would she not cry on the day of her parents’ funeral?

She can’t blame them for the assumption, she thinks, staring into her grandmother’s eyes. No one else knows what she knows. No one would believe her if she told them.

But she’s seen this already. This entire day. Four times.

“How did you know they were going to die,” her grandmother asks again, hysteria creeping in. “How?”

“Heather, please,” her grandfather pleads, pulling his wife back. “The child has been through enough.”

“She knew, Damon!” The woman turns tearful eyes to her husband, mouth quivering with rising sobs. “She knew. Don’t you remember? She screamed for hours that day. She kept saying they would die, and we -- oh, God, why didn’t we listen? Damon, why didn’t we listen?”

“We had no way of knowing.” He pulls his wife into a strong embrace, letting her sob on his shoulder. “She had no way of knowing, dear. It was just a nightmare.”

Watching them, Odeya idly wonders how long they’ll keep lying to themselves.

There’s something about watching your parents die that changes you. Survivor’s guilt, more than anything else, eats at you until there’s nothing left but shame and a distinct lack of self-preservation. Detachment sets in, and you find yourself wandering farther and farther from the world, constantly asking yourself what exactly you’re going to do now that your parents are gone.

Watching your parents die, and having no one believe you when you warn them it’ll happen is far worse.

Odeya tries -- in all honesty, she does -- to be mentally present when her grandparents speak to her. It isn’t as if she has any sort of mental illness that would make her incapable; it’s just that she finds it hard to live in the present when she spends so much time in the future.

In the five years since her parents’ passing, her visions haven’t stopped. Every time she falls asleep -- and only once when she was awake -- she sees hours, days, sometimes even months into the future. And while it is sometimes a fortunate circumstance, it also makes it that much harder to stay in touch with reality. It’s taken the fun out of living, being able to see everything that will happen in advance.

It isn’t even as if she only sees monumental events. She sees the smallest things; she has dreams of children finding pennies on the street, and dreams of her grandparents waltzing in the living room -- the most exciting thing she’s seen since her parents’ death was the opening of the new Taco Bell down the street. Every conversation, every lucky or unlucky happenstance, she sees it once, twice, three times before it happens.

“Dude, that sucks.”

Her eyes open, and she glances at the blonde girl sitting next to her. Her grandparents disapprove of her taking the bus, but she has a reasonable fear of cars. She plucks an earbud out of her ear, looking at the girl in confusion. “What?”

“Your visions,” the blonde answers, lowering her voice. “That has to suck.”

Odeya stares with wide eyes.

The blonde girl smirks. “Bet you didn’t see me, didya?”

Odeya blinks away her shock, and sighs. “You got on the wrong bus. That’s why I couldn’t see you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Still didn’t see me,” the blonde boasts, neither denying nor confirming what Odeya knows to be true.

The brunette tips her head at her, the way her father used to do when he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “Was I talking out loud?”

“Nope. I read your mind.”

“That’s not possible.”

“This from the girl who sees things hours, days, months in advance?”

Point.

“Odeya,” she chooses to say, holding out her hand instead of admitting to being proven wrong.

The blonde smirks -- apparently having read her mind, what even -- and shakes her hand. “Athena.”

Odeya raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Your name is Odeya, and you’re seriously judging me?”

Odeya giggles despite herself. It’s probably too early to tell, and she’ll probably get bored with this before long, but she can’t help but feel like this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

“I can’t believe they still don’t believe you.”

“You can’t believe it,” Odeya snorts, pushing ketchup around the tray in front of her. “I’m living it.”

Athena gives her a sympathetic smile, shrugging as if to say, What can ya do? She reaches over and snags a too salty fry from Odeya’s tray, knowing that her friend won’t mind. “I guess you can’t really blame them,” she thinks aloud, simply letting the fry dangle between her lips like a cigarette. “I mean, it’s not like it came into your life in the best way. And that’s not your fault, it’s just harder for others to accept. Like, if you’d told me that the bus we were on that day was about to get shot up or something, I think I’d much rather just lie to myself and say it was just a coincidence or something.”

Odeya hums noncommittally, turning her gaze to the window. She was only sort of right about Athena. It wasn’t long after their meeting that she’d started having visions of the blonde. True to her belief, she has visions of very moment she spent with Athena, and even some that Athena had without her.

On top of that, Athena can read her thoughts. Everything that Odeya plans to say in response, every vision she has, everything she wants to keep to herself, Athena hears and sees it all. She knows that the blonde doesn’t mean to. Much like Odeya can’t control her dreams, Athena can’t quite control what she reads. She tries, and has made a lot of progress in the months that they’ve known each other, but a vast majority of Odeya’s thoughts still make it into her head.

By all means, it should be a boring relationship on both sides. They both know what each other is going to say in advance, and can both see the entire conversation play out before it even begins. It should be Odeya’s least favorite relationship.

But it’s not.

The two make a game out of their powers. They do everything in their power to surprise the other, and have so far found many ways to do so. Athena knows that the future is subject to change; no matter what Odeya envisions, it isn’t necessarily set in stone. One step in the opposite direction, and the future changes. And Odeya knows that Athena can only hear her immediate thoughts, sometimes. So Athena makes it a point to do the unexpected, and Odeya makes her words and actions contradict what she’s thinking on the surface. It’s a damn near impossible game, but they make it interesting.

It’s actually how they end up celebrating Athena’s birthday at In-N-Out instead of the Jungle, like Odeya had thought.

Athena hears the thought, and tosses her a saucy wink, eliciting a laugh from her best friend. “I’m done,” Odeya informs her, rising from her seat. “Do you want my fr-- hey!”

“I’m so sorry,” a girl, about their age, squeaks, jumping back. Her eyes are wide with fear, her brown hair falling in her face. “I’m so sorry.”

Odeya softens. “It’s fine. No harm, no foul.” She steps aside, watching as the girl scurries away. Athena is much better at smarmy responses than she is; she couldn’t have been mean to that girl if she tried. She turns back to the table to find Athena staring into space, oddly silent. “What is it?”

“That girl,” Athena mutters. “I couldn’t read her.”

Odeya glances up in the direction the girl went in, trying to remember if she’d had any visions of the mousy brunette, but finds that the memory of the girl’s face is already fading. Brushing it off, she shrugs. “She’s probably an airhead.”

“Yeah,” Athena agrees, though her voice is still far away. “Probably.”

Odeya should probably be offended.

In fact, the more she thinks about it, the more she isn’t sure that she isn’t offended.

“The Freaky Supernatural Powers Club?” She reads, before glaring at Athena. “Didn’t I explicitly tell you not to do this?”

“You did,” Athena affirms, taking her hand and tugging her into the classroom. “But you tell me to do a lot of things, because you think they’re for the best--”

“Because they are.”

“--and half the time, you’re just scared that I’m right.”

Odeya is preparing to tell her that that is most decidedly not the case -- not this time, anyway -- when her gaze lands on the six people who are already in the room. None of them know each other, except for the two who sit closer to the front of the classroom. All eyes turn to the two girls as they enter the room, and Odeya flinches away from their gazes. She’s seen five different versions of this, and hopes that none of them actually decide to try the bubble trick.

“More people,” the boy in the front cheers. “Wonderful. When can we start?” The girl next to him -- his sister, Odeya knows -- slaps his shoulder, throwing him a warning look.

“I say we start now,” a brunette girl with curly hair voices. “It doesn’t look like anyone else will show up.”

Odeya keeps her mouth shut. Athena’s eyes flicker to her, then back to the room.

“Just so we’re clear,” the boy with dark skin says, pulling a knee up to his chest. “Is this a club for people with actual superpowers, or a club for fanatics?”

“That depends,” the boy in the front quips. “Which one are you?”

The former, Odeya thinks, hoping that Athena can hear her. We all fit into the former.

“He has actual superpowers,” Athena states confidently, dragging Odeya all the way into the room. “We all do.”

“How do you know,” the only other blonde asks, eyeing her warily.

“Because I can read minds.” Silence. “Don’t believe me? Do you want me to prove it?”

“On one hand, no,” the boy in front says. “On the other, I’m curious, so yeah.” He leans forward in his chair, smirking at Athena. “Tell me what I’m thinking, Blondie.”

Athena is quiet as she listens for his thoughts, and Odeya hopes to God she doesn’t humiliate this boy. “You failed your chemistry test -- mainly because Sera wouldn’t help you study, when she knows you suck -- but you figure if you strike a bet with Mrs. Finnegan, you can gamble an A out of her.”

Not even a second goes by before the dark-haired boy grins, lifting his eyebrows in the physical representation of the word respect. “Titus Collins,” he introduces himself, standing up rather pompously. “I never lose.”

Everyone stares blankly, before the girl next to him speaks up. “No, that’s his superpower. He never loses anything, ever. Not a bet, not a video game -- he even wins in Monopoly.”

“That’s all types of unfair,” one of the other boys whines.

“Seraphina Collins,” the girl who’d come to Titus’ defense says, standing once he sits. “I can create anything, just by thinking of it.” To demonstrate, she holds out her hand and closes her eyes. The rest of the occupants in the room watch in fascination as a miniature Lego castle creates itself in her hand, the pieces appearing in thin air. Odeya and Titus are the only ones who look disinterested in the proceedings.

“Simon Malbury,” the lanky boy by the counter says. “I, uh -- I produce pheromones when I play the piano. People get dazed and... it’s a lot creepier than it sounds,” he finishes awkwardly, looking to the ground.

“No, that’s pretty legit,” the blonde disagrees. “I’m Aubrey Briar. I... move things with my mind. Please don’t say the t-word, otherwise I’m going to feel like some crappy background character in a Marvel movie.”

“You?” The black boy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not just a crappy background character, I’m the one they didn’t put any thought into. I got super strength.” He and Aubrey lean across the desks to share a first bump, muttering about their stupid, unoriginal powers. “Oh. And I’m Zane, by the way.”

Odeya bites back a smile.

“Phoebe Chance,” the last girl introduces, and Odeya notices a slight accent, though she can’t quite place it. “I... control time.” When the room goes silent, she shifts awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I know, it’s weird. But if I want to make time stop, or go back, I can. And I can’t really prove it, because I don’t know how to extend that power to someone else, it--” She cuts herself off, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That’s... not gonna lie, that’s pretty dope,” Athena commends with an impressed laugh. “I’m Athena Fierro. I can read minds. But if anyone outside of this room asks, I’m actually the goddess of wisdom.”

Odeya rolls her eyes hard. “For the last time, that won’t work when someone asks you a question neither of you have the answer to.”

She realizes a second too late that she shouldn’t have spoken up, as all eyes turn to her. This is where the visions start to differ. What she says next is what determines how the rest of this meeting plays out. Her fingers curl into Athena’s hand, and she takes as much strength from the grip as she can as Aubrey asks, “What about you? What’s your name?”

Athena squeezes her hand encouragingly, and Odeya tells herself to just rip the band-aid off. “Odeya,” she answers when she’s ready. “I... I see the future when I go to sleep.” The room galls into a shocked silence, and she can’t help but nervously add, “Please don’t ask me to predict your future.”

“What?” Simon snaps out of his shock, shaking his head. “No, we weren’t gonna do that. I mean, asking someone to read your mind is one thing, but asking you to predict the future is something else entirely.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Athena promises. “No one was going to ask.”

Yes, they were, Odeya thinks, swallowing the words. There are three versions of this moment where they do ask.

If Athena hears, she doesn’t say anything.

Phoebe nods, crossing her legs. She’s perched on top of one of the desks, and Odeya is momentarily reminded of a bird. “I’d hate it if someone asked me to take them back in time,” she says, brushing a curl from her face. She doesn’t elaborate, and no one asks her to.

There’s a long, awkward silence before Zane breaks it by saying, “Does no one else feel stereotyped? Like, sure, give the black guy super strength. That’s original.”

And if Odeya chokes on surprised laughter, no one has to know.

Titus is the only one of them in the eighth grade.

It isn’t actually a big deal, except for how much he brags about it. She knows he does it for the sole purpose of annoying them -- she honestly cannot wait for the day when Aubrey loses her chill and beats him up for it; she doesn’t need to be a seer in order to predict that -- but she still hasn’t quite found out how to tune him out.

(It honestly gets to the point where Seraphina conjures up a gag, just to keep him quiet, and he continues to ramble on in his thoughts, just to piss off Athena.)

It’s nothing but another subject for him to boast about, until it comes time for promotion. He gets oddly quiet about it during the last weeks of the school year, always changing the subject when it comes up. Odeya doesn’t think anyone really notices; for all of his arrogance, Titus isn’t nearly as boisterous as he wants them to think. He’s subtle and quiet about the things that matter, hiding them behind the irritating smirk that he wears so well. Sometimes, she wonders where he learned to hide like that, before she remembers that she sees the future, and Athena reads minds, and he never loses.

They don’t have a choice but to hide.

The night before he graduates from middle school, Odeya has a vision.

“It’s fine, you know,” Seraphina lies, keeping a cheerful smile on her face. They’re back in the classroom, the place they’ve met up every day after school for the past year. Aubrey, Phoebe and Athena all stand around her, Simon and Zane standing off to the side, bickering over the color of their ties.

Titus sits at the very back of the classroom, uncharacteristically silent.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just...” Seraphina’s eyes travel to her brother. She’s been crying. “We’ve always been together, you know? We’ve always gone to school together. But I’ll be fine! I’ll get used to it.”

“You’re scared of being alone,” Phoebe realizes. “Hey, Sera, no. You’re not going to be alone, okay?”

“Yeah,” Aubrey agrees, taking her hand. “Just because your dork of a brother won’t be here doesn’t mean you’re getting left behind. We’re going to be here for you, no matter what.”

“Totally.” Zane strolls up to the Latina, throwing an arm over her shoulders. “We’re with you ‘til the end of the line, girl. Can’t get rid of us now.”

Seraphina smiles, a bit more genuine than before, and Athena glances back to Titus. The tanned boy’s lips kick up into a barely there smile, and they both relax.

Odeya wakes up, and buries her face in her pillow, willing herself not to cry, though she doesn’t really know why.

Simon sets a milkshake down in front of her, and Odeya offers him a grateful smile. “So what’s this about,” he asks, his lips closing around the straw of his own smoothie.

There’s something wonderfully simplistic about being with Simon. With him, there are no games or gimmicks, nothing to worry about. The others all take part in Athena’s game of trying to contradict her visions -- and failing, nine times out of ten -- and while it’s fun, it’s also a headache. Odeya enjoys a bit of unpredictability just as much as the next psychic, but the not knowing just confuses her more than it would confuse anyone else. It leaves her brain burning, and her stomach in knots. Simon doesn’t try to be spontaneous or exciting. He’s simply accepted the fact that she know hat he’ll do, and he goes with it.

She loves him for that.

Odeya -- now fifteen years old, having known him for about two and a half years -- shrugs her shoulders. She knows exactly how this conversation will go, and yet she still has no idea how to start it.

Simon nods slowly, scrutinizing her carefully. “Is this about anything in particular or...?”

She quirks a brow at him. “What? You don’t think I’m the kind of girl who’d invite a friend out for milkshakes?”

“I don’t think you would be so nervous if this were just for milkshakes.” He sets his milkshake on the table and gives her an open look. “If you don’t want to talk, I won’t make you. I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I know you are,” she says, sitting up as she nods. “It’s why I invited you instead of Athena. I love her, but she reads my mind, and says the exact opposite of what I predicted, just to mess with me. And I get it-- we’ve been doing it since we were eleven. But it’s annoying sometimes, you know? I just want to have an honest conversation.”

Simon nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just... I don’t know.” She sighs, toying with her straw. “I guess I wanted to talk to someone who wouldn’t play any games. For once, I just want to talk to someone, and have them take me seriously.”

“I’m always going to take you seriously,” Simon promises, and she knows that he means it. “Even when you don’t want me to. Someone has to.”

Her lips stretch into a smile that she can’t even begin to bite back. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“It’s about time someone noticed.”

“It’s a concert, Deya, of course it’ll be fun.”

“You’ve said that ten times, and I still disagree.” Not that it matters much; Seraphina has a hold on her arm, dragging her through the thick crowds towards their seats. Odeya lets out a groan. “Why couldn’t you bring Aubrey, or Phoebe? They’ve actually heard of the band.”

“Because you need a pick me up,” Seraphina says easily. Odeya is pretty sure that’s the Sera translation of you didn’t expect me to bring you, so I have to bring you, just to fuck up your day. “You and Athena are still fighting, and she’s a lot bitchier than you are when she’s angry.”

There’s really no arguing that point.

“...Excuse me.”

Odeya pivots to face the speaker, Seraphina peaking over her shoulder. A girl stands there, light brown curls framing her face, doe eyes fearful but kind. Something about the girl is distantly familiar, but Odeya can’t quite place it. The girl holds out a familiar red pouch to them. “I think one of you dropped this.”

“Oh, that’s mine!” Seraphina reaches around Odeya to grab the wallet. “Thank you so much! I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”

The girl blushes, connecting her fingers in front of her. “You’re welcome. Um, enjoy the show.” With another shy smile in their direction, she brushes past them, and Odeya is left with the sense that she’s missing something horribly important.

The sense is forgotten as the concert goes on. And she doesn’t want to admit it, but she has a lot more fun than she’d thought she would. The band’s music is actually really good, and Amos freaking Mendes opens up for them. She’s almost positive that much talent being in one room isn’t even legal, but she’s glad for it.

When it’s over, Seraphina insists they wait for the backstage meet and greet. “Ti-Ti paid extra for the tickets,” she whimpers, tugging on Odeya’s hand. “We can’t let that money go to waste. Please, pretend you like me for, like, two more hours.”

By the time the meet and greet actually starts, Seraphina has created two unicorn plushies, a hundred pennies, a goat, and a literal hurdle, just to trip people up. Odeya knows she shouldn’t encourage her to abuse her powers like this, but she’s bored and the stupefied expressions on peoples’ faces every time something appears in front of them are too good to pass up.

“Oh, here they come,” Seraphina gasps, while Odeya laughs breathlessly. “Shut up, oh my God, Odeya, pull yourself together. I am never taking you anywhere ever.”

The band -- and Amos, she notices -- approaches the group waiting backstage, bright -- probably fake -- smiles in place. She and Seraphina are at the very end, but she still tries to stifle her laughter. “This is going to take forever,” she gripes. “Can’t you make, like, a TV?”

“Stop abusing my powers,” Seraphina hisses. “It’s wrong.”

“No, the hurdle was wrong. Possibly the goat. Everything else was perfectly innocent. We even made that one little girl smile, remember?”

“That’s not the point.”

By the time the five boys make it to them, Odeya has convinced her friend to create another obnoxious plant, just to see if anyone will notice, and a life sized Amos cardboard cutout. Both turn out to be a bad idea, as people keep running into them. “You’re going to get us kicked out,” Seraphina giggles, swatting at her hand. “Oh my God, Odeya, stop. They’re actually coming this time! Stop laughing, oh my God.”

“It’s your magic,” Odeya laughs under her breath, looking away when the boys approach them.

“Hello, ladies,” the leader singer greets with a smile that Odeya can just tell is about to fall off. “Sorry for the wait.”

“It’s fine,” Seraphina assures them, yanking on Odeya’s hand to stop her giggling. “It’s totally fine. You guys were amazing.”

Odeya wants to agree -- she does, and she’s about to, but someone else walks into the cardboard cutout, and she damn near loses it. She isn’t usually this giggly, but she’s been so upset for so long, and she hasn’t had this much fun in ages. She’s never had an entire day where she didn’t know exactly what was going to happen and when. It was unsettling at first, but she doesn’t think she’s ever laughed this much before. She bites down on her lip to keep her laughter at bay, only nodding along to her friend’s words.

The singer looks over at her, gaze torn between confused and amused. “Are you alright, love?”

“I’m fine,” Odeya squeaks, then she clears her throat. “I’m fine, honest. That really was a great concert. I don’t think I’ve ever been to one as fun as this one.” Seraphina pokes her, and she obediently shuts up.

“That’s a relief,” the guitarist says. “I was starting to think the thing everyone enjoyed most was this dork.” He jabs his thumb at Amos.

“Oh, I’m a dork?” He gets a certain gleam in his eyes, and swings his arm back, to tap the guitarist, she assumes, but he misses completely and ends up hitting someone else.

It’s the girl from before.

Amos pales, and so does the rest of the band. “Oh, God,” Amos mutters, yanking his hand away. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Odeya sobers, noticing how worried he really is. His swing wasn’t hard enough to do more than just tap the girl, yet the fear in his voice would imply otherwise. “Miss?”

“I’m okay,” the girl reassures him, giving him a nervous smile. “I-I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t be back here, but I had to go to the bathroom, and my dad pointed me this way, and you.. don’t care.” She clears her throat, glancing to the ground insecurely. “I’m sorry, I...” She glances around the group. “I’m sorry.” She moves to continue on her way, when --

It hits Odeya like a brick to the stomach, leaving her winded and nauseous.

Her hand is clasped around the girl’s wrist before she even realizes what she’s doing. She hears Seraphina call her name, but she can’t take her eyes off of the girl. She has pretty eyes. “What’s your name,” she finds herself asking.

“Arlis,” the girl tells her, confusion laced in her tone. But she doesn’t seem scared or nervous; just confused. “Do... do I know you?”

“I can’t see you.”

“What?”

“Odeya,” Sera hisses again, pulling on her arm.

“You’re not hearing me, Sera.” She turns to her friend, giving her a meaningful look. “I can’t see her.”

She watches as the realization sets in, and Seraphina looks over at the girl, then to the band, then to Odeya. “Not here, okay? Not now.” She pulls Odeya away, and gives the pop stars a kind smile. Odeya feels horrible for ruining this for her; she was so excited when Titus bought her tickets to see her favorite band in concert. Odeya had never seen the sixteen year old so happy before. She’s been looking forward to this for months, and Odeya has managed to make it about her.

Even so, she can’t quite get over the fact that she has run into this girl twice -- no, three times, she remembers, thinking back to Athena’s birthday all those years ago -- and has yet to see her. It’s never happened with anyone else before, and she needs to know why this girl is so special.

“We’re sorry for this,” Seraphina says to the band and Amos. “We didn’t mean to waste your time. Thank you so much for everything.” She turns to Arlis. “Do you want to hang out with us? We can go and grab some fries or something.”

“Actually,” one of the band members -- and she honestly can’t remember who is who, at this point -- says, “you can use our green room. We don’t have anything else to do. And I think we have a few questions, too.”

Arlis looks between all of them in confusion and slight fear, but nods, regardless. Odeya exchanges glances with Seraphina, and they allow the boys to lead them down the stretch of hallway, towards a strand of rooms with various labels on them. She doesn’t know which door they enter through, and while the not knowing was fine twenty minutes ago, it terrifies her now. She clutches Seraphina’s hand tightly, and reminds herself to breathe.

The door shuts behind them, and Seraphina squeezes her hand.

“What...” Arlis squirms, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t... I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Seraphina suggests, playing a hand on Arlis’ arm. She isn’t the bossy type, but she tends to be the eye of the hurricane, Odeya knows. When the rest of the world is in chaos, she takes charge. “I just realized we never introduced ourselves. I’m Seraphina. This is my friend, Odeya. And you’re Arlis, right?”

She nods, no less confused, but slightly more comfortable.

“I’m River,” the lead singer says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you ladies.”

“I’m Gunner,” the drummer tells them.

“I’m Eros,” one of the guitarists -- who actually knows the difference? -- smiles.

“Apollo,” the other guitarist says, and Odeya and Seraphina lock gazes, both amazed. He has to meet Athena.

“And I’m Amos.” He hesitates. “Arlis, do you mind if I shake your hand?”

She tilts her head at him, but holds up her hand nonetheless. He shakes her hand slowly, watching her carefully. When he pulls away, he shakes his head at the band. In that instant, Odeya realizes three things.

One: Amos has a power. She doesn’t know what it is, but he definitely has one. The band knows about it, which means one or more of them probably have powers, as well. They were all expecting Arlis to be affected, but she wasn’t. Which means --

Two: Arlis is immune. She doesn’t know what the limits of that immunity are, but so far, she’s proven immune to Amos’ power, and to Odeya’s visions. And because of that...

Three: Seraphina had nothing to do with Odeya not foreseeing the entirety of today.

Athena thinks she’s insane. And, okay, Odeya can’t really blame her for that. Inviting six strangers -- five of them being pop stars -- to the club meeting might just be one of the worst things she’s ever done, especially considering she can’t see how it all plays out, but she knows it’s for the best. She needs to get to the bottom of this.

After everyone has filed in and introduced themselves -- and they were right, Apollo and Athena meet is undoubtedly the most wicked thing to ever take place -- they all settle in various positions around the room.

“We need to agree, right here, right now,” Athena demands, stepping up as the unofficial leader of their little brigade. She has a no-nonsense attitude that makes people obey her without question. Odeya has always admired that about her. “What’s said in this room stays in this room. If anyone else finds out, it’s because we all agreed that we can talk. Fair?” Everyone nods, seemingly of a similar mindset. “Arlis, how much do you know about... powers?”

“Powers?” The girl shakes her head. “Not... not much? I’ve heard of people having them, but I haven’t -- I’ve never met anyone with any. Do... do you have powers?”

Odeya looks to Seraphina again, contemplating what she should do. Seraphina nods, and Odeya breathes, easing Arlis into a seat next to her. “I can see the future,” she says bluntly. “Every night since I was a little kid, I’ve seen everything that happens. To me, and to everyone around me. I’ve never run into anyone I didn’t see beforehand. But I’ve run into you numerous times, and I -- Arlis, I can’t see you.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and she looks around the room, then back to Odeya. “What does that mean?”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever met that I couldn’t see. Just running into you makes my visions blank. I ran into you twice, and I didn’t predict anything after I got dressed that morning. Arlis, I think -- I think you’re immune.”

“I do, too,” Amos verbalizes. “I can freeze things when I touch them. If I’m not careful, I could give someone frostbite with just a touch. But I touched you twice, without holding back my power, and you didn’t get so much as a chill.”

“We could continue to do tests,” Titus brings up, leaning against the desk next to River. Odeya is only kind of certain he isn’t planning on flirting. (How do people live with this uncertainty?) “Half of us have powers that work on people. We could keep trying them on you, if you want, but I trust Odeya’s judgement.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Odeya sees Zane whisper something in Athena, only for the mind reader to shake her head.

Arlis is silent, trying to figure out what to do with the information she’s been given. “If... if I’m immune, does that mean I have a superpower, too?”

Everyone takes pause at that. “I honestly hadn’t thought of that,” Aubrey says. “But... I think so, yeah.”

“Okay.” Arlis nods, hesitantly then a bit more surely. “Okay. Can... can I ask what the rest of you do?”

Everyone enthusiastically fills her in. Eros, ironically, has the power to make people fall in love with each other, though he doesn’t explain how the power works exactly. She doubts it involves arrows. Gunner has the ability to age and de-age as he pleases. He tells them that he really is only seventeen, but he could be six, if he wanted to be. Apollo confesses that his power is more on the animation side of things; he can bring inanimate objects to life with just a touch.

When they get back to the subject of Amos’ power, Aubrey snorts. “I always thought ice powers were for people with cold hearts.”

“Like Athens, here,” Titus provides, receiving a well-deserved smack on the shoulder for that quip.

“I like my power,” Amos says, a smirk fighting its way onto his face. “It’s nice being the cool one. I mean--”

“Amos, no,” Gunner orders. “Amos, no.”

“I’m so cool, when I walk by, bitches get frost bite.”

It takes a long time to recover from that, and for a moment, she cherishes the surprise. When she sees the tears of laughter in Arlis’ eyes, she can’t help but be grateful.

Maybe not knowing everything isn’t so bad after all.

If Odeya thought Athena and Titus being friends was horrible, she wasn’t at all prepared for Amos to join them.

Between the three of them, there are so many bad puns and cocky remarks, Zane actually stops coming to club meetings for a week. Athena and Titus laugh every time Amos tells his frost bite joke -- which only gets worse with time -- and the boys actually treat Athena like she’s a deity, which only urges her to use her I’m actually the goddess of wisdom line at every given opportunity. Athena and Amos encourage Titus to make bets that they know he’ll win, just for the fun of messing with other people.

(By ‘other people’, she means Amos’ best friend, Forrest. There is nothing he loves more than messing with that boy.)

Aubrey is absolutely no help. When she isn’t flirting with Gunner, she’s egging the trio on. Once, she even convinces Titus to bet Athena that she can’t read his mind. Suffice to say, it ends horribly.

The only thing that seems to calm Titus down is River, who he has the most upsetting crush on. What’s upsetting about it is that they’re crushing on each other, and instead of being awkward and humiliating like most normal people, the two are irritatingly cool about it. They don’t stumble over their words, nor do they try to deny their feelings. They flirt casually and relentlessly, occasionally hiding annoyingly attractive grins.

Odeya isn’t sure she doesn’t hate them.

Seraphina and Eros are a lot dorkier in their mutual crushing. They blush every time they speak, and anything cool that comes out of their mouths is completely incidental. She promises to dance for him, and he plays the guitar for her. Odeya walks in on him singing to her once, and record it. She saves it for rainy days, when she runs out of cat videos, and gets tired of re-watching Daddy Day Care.

Zane finds a human boyfriend. He’s apprehensive at first, too afraid of harming Atticus, but Aubrey talks him into going for it. “We can’t be single and unhappy forever,” she points out to the whole group. “And we can’t all date within the group. We know our limits, and we know what not to do. It’s okay to date someone. It’s okay to be happy.”

It’s okay to be happy. The words float around Odeya’s mind for a while, and she can’t stop herself from glancing over at Arlis. Feeling her eyes on her, Arlis --

(”You’re like our own personal Bella Swan,” Eros once teased.

“Dude,” Simon gaped, staring at the boy in horror. “Don’t be rude.”)

-- glances over, and a small, serene smile comes onto her lips. She nods minutely, and Odeya can hear her thoughts without needing Athena’s power. You can be happy, too, her gaze says. You deserve to be happy.

Odeya returns the smile, and pretends her heart isn’t beating a bit faster.

When the trailer for Frozen comes out, Odeya and Arlis spend fifteen minutes laughing and trying to catch their breath. She cannot wait to see Amos on Monday.

No sooner than the thought enters her mind does her phone buzz, a mass text arriving from Amos.

( elsa, 11:15 pm ) hoes don’t do it

( you, 11:16 pm ) L O L

She adds a crying emoji, just to piss him off a bit more.

Two months into senior year, she gets a text from Seraphina:

( dancing queen, 10:17 am ) you need to get to the club room ( dancing queen, 10:17 am ) now

When she gets there, everyone else is already gathered. They glance anxiously at one another, and it takes Odeya a moment to realize there’s a stranger in the room. She’s a freshman, it looks like. She’s much smaller than the rest of them, and she shirks away from any possibility of physical contact. She has long dark hair, and tanned skin, hinting at at least some form of Hispanic heritage. Odeya has never seen her before, but the girl looks at her with wide eyed recognition.

“What’s going on?” Odeya glances at the girl, then at Athena. Who is this?

“Odeya, this is Savannah Hudson,” River answers, walking over to her. “She’s one of us.”

Odeya blinks, and wonders why she hadn’t realized that before. Why else would she be here. “Oh. What can she do?”

“That’s the thing,” Arlis says, laying a hand on Odeya’s arm. “She...” She looks over to Savannah, giving her an encouraging nod.

Savannah glances between the girls, before settling on Odeya. “I can see the future.”

---Wait, what?

“But only kind of,” Savannah scrambles on. “I -- when I touch people, I... I see how they die.”

“Oh.” Oh. Odeya swallows the unpleasant feeling rising within her. This is the closest anyone has ever gotten to her power,, and it somehow manages to be worse. She doesn’t know how she feels about it. “Everyone?”

Savannah nods sadly. “I’ve seen how my parents are going to die, and how my siblings are going to die. It’s why I wear gloves.” She holds up a hand, and Odeya finally notices the leather gloves coating her fingers. “If I don’t make direct contact, I don’t see anything. But I...”

“She touched me,” Titus continues for her, his voice blank and, quite frankly, worrying. “And she saw you.”

...Holy shit.

“Yeah,” Athena mutters. “Pretty much.”

Odeya dreams this conversation three times before Phoebe even calls her.

The fourth time, she sees Phoebe hang herself, and promptly empties her breakfast into the toilet in her grandparents’ bathroom. Her grandmother tries to get her to take some flu medicine, but Phoebe declines. She wants more than anything to tell her grandmother that her sickness has nothing to do with her health, but she knows it’ll be useless. She’s tried telling her grandparents, several times, and they refuse to believe her.

She’s given up hope of convincing them.

To placate them, she nibbles on saltines until they’re satisfied. Once she’s cleaned up and doesn’t smell like puke breath, she pulls on her clothes and goes to meet Phoebe.

The brunette is seated under a tree outside of the school, staring out at the baseball field. There are dried tear stains on her cheeks, and Odeya feels nauseous again. She has to play this correctly, or she loses Phoebe permanently.

She places a water bottle and granola bar in her friend’s lap, and takes a seat next to her. She tucks her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she waits for the other to speak.

“How do you do it,” Phoebe asks after a while, her voice scratchy and quiet. She continues to stare at the empty field, taking shallow breaths. “How do you... how do you deal with living in the present, when you already know how the future plays out?”

Loaded question. “I don’t,” she answers honestly. She knows she has to be careful with this, but she won’t lie to Phoebe. Not about this. “When you’ve seen the future play out in every possible way, it’s easy to lose interest in the present. What happens now doesn’t always matter when you can see the bigger picture.”

Phoebe’s eyes -- red and empty -- move to Odeya, and the seer swallows thickly. “But?”

“But it isn’t always that bad.” Odeya shifts, spreading her legs out. “The future can change, Phoebe. It doesn’t always turn out the way that I see it. It isn’t set in stone. And sometimes experiencing it in the moment is better than just seeing it.”

Tears well up in Phoebe’s eyes, and this is the part where everything Odeya says is crucial. “I’ve lived this week,” Phoebe says, voice thick with repressed tears. “Eight times. I’ve seen everything that could possibly happen, Odeya, I...” She looks away again, throat clogging up and tears running down her face.

Odeya quietly contemplates her next words. “I won’t ask you what happens,” she promises, because she knows what that’s like, and she’s sworn never to do it to anyone else. “But does anything... major happen?”

A slight nod.

“Is there any way to prevent it?”

“I don’t know. I--” She swipes tears off her face. “I’ve tried everything, and I just can’t -- I can’t stop it. I’ve seen it eight times, and I can’t do anything.”

Odeya hasn’t seen this. She’s purposely deviated from all of ways she’s seen this play out. It’s the only way this can work. “Have you tried... telling about it?”

Phoebe nods shakily. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried stopping it, I’ve tried being on the receiving end of it, I’ve tried... Deya, I’ve tried everything. And I’ve still... you’ve still...”

“...Me?”

The emotion drains from Phoebe’s face, bleeds into something more neutral and horrifying. “You die. Every time I relive this week, you die.”

The air is sucked from Odeya’s lungs, and the world tilts on its axes. She hasn’t seen that. She dreamed her death once, when she was a little girl, but not since then. She doesn’t even remember it. If she’s supposed to die in the next week, why hasn’t she seen it? “...Oh.”

“Your... your visions kill you,” Phoebe babbles, pain and devastation in her tone. “You -- you start having them during the day, and once you do, you can’t stop. You can’t see anything in the present, because you’re stuck in the future. And you’re -- you’re having these visions, and you hit your head. You hit your head, and you crack your skull on the ground. You -- you bleed out before we can get to you.

“And after you die-- after you die, everything goes wrong. Grief -- grief messes with our powers, and it messes with our heads. Athena can’t stay in her own head, no matter how much she tries. She can’t stop reading people’s minds, even when she’s asleep, and it almost kills her, it hurts so much. Seraphina’s powers go awry, and everything she things of forms in front of her, and just a look from Apollo makes them all come to life. They turn into monsters, and Sera is terrified, and every fear creates another monster. Amos, Amos kills someone, because he brushes into her. Titus makes a gamble for his life, your life for his, and he loses, Odeya, and you both die, you die and I can’t -- Odeya, I can’t see that again. River -- River, he goes postal, he--”

“Pheebs, stop,” Odeya softly begs, pulling the girl into a crushing hug. It doesn’t sound much like the girl could go on if she’d wanted. She’s gasped through half of the words, panic-induced hyperventilation setting in. Savannah’s vision of Titus pops into her mind, and it suddenly makes a little more sense. “Phoebe, breathe. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Phoebe cries, sobbing into Odeya’s arm. “It’s not.”

“Yes, it is. You know why?” Odeya pulls away from the embrace, looking her friend in the eyes. “We’re going to break this cycle. When does it start? When do I... die?”

“Tomorrow night. Odeya, I told you, I’ve tried everything.”

“Maybe you have. But I haven’t.” She wipes the tears from Phoebe’s eyes. “In any of the eight times you’ve gone back, did you see this? This conversation, exactly?”

After a moment of contemplation, Phoebe shakes her head.

Odeya smiles, though she feels sick to her stomach. “See? The story is already changing. The future changes just that easily.” She squeezes Phoebe’s hands, hesitating before she asks, “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Phoebe shrugs.

“When you go back in time... do you mean to?”

Phoebe is silent. Then: “I don’t know.”

“You... don’t know?” How is that possible?

“I only go back in time when I’m dying.”

Don’t throw up, Odeya. Don’t do it. “I... you didn’t tell me you died, too.”

“It’s never happened. I go back in time right before I do.” She blinks, tears falling from her eyes anew. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. River kills me.”

[lilyfabrayberry]

At Least No One Flipped the Table This Time

It wasn’t that they weren’t nice people. It wasn’t that at all.

They were extremely kind people. In fact, their very friendship was formed on that kindness. None of them would have been friends had they not reached out to each other the way they had. They all saw misfits in each other – people worth befriending and taking care of; people who were alone, and desperately in need of – and gave each other a home.

Aurelia was undoubtedly the sweetest person in the group. She rarely said a bad word, let alone did a bad thing. She was sort of mousy and timid, but never hesitated to help someone in need. Wendy was sweet (upon first glance), and never had a bad word to say (unless it was warranted). Tabitha and Duke both prided themselves on being kind(er than their best friends); in fact, if it weren’t for Tabitha reaching out to Lily as she had, the group would’ve never come together in the first place. Lily and Percy were… different. They weren’t not nice.

They were all benevolent in their own ways, there was no doubt about it.

It was just when it came to each other that they could be a bit… terrible.

To some, it might seem ridiculous that a group would need to establish that they needed to be on their best behavior when around new people. To an outsider, it might seem like the type of thing that someone would just know. It’s simple common courtesy.

For the rebellion, there was no such thing. If it wasn’t stated explicitly that they needed to all behave, they were all liable to cause a mess, or – in extreme cases – get everyone around them thrown in a jail cell. Even innocent Aurelia tended to cause trouble when things got heated. But for the sake of Sapphire, and their parents’ sanity and wallets, they had all agreed not to let things get out of hand tonight.

It was with that mindset that Lily and Percy entered the bowling alley. As expected, they were the last ones to make it. The girl’s eyes quickly scanned the bowling alley, searching for her newest friend. “Oh,” she cheered quietly, briefly squeezing Percy’s hand. “There she is!” Without waiting for a response, she led her boyfriend over to the redhead, who stood with another blonde girl and a vaguely familiar boy. “Sapphire!”

Sapphire turned at the sound of her name. A few lanes down, the rest of the rebellion – as they were frequently called – perked up at the sound of her voice. Lily was distantly aware of everyone making their way over. “Hi,” Sapphire greeted in return, a smile on her face. Lily quickly noted the way that she gripped the hand of the boy she’d come with. “You actually came.”

Lily’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Before Sapphire could formulate a reply, Lily glanced behind her at her group of friends. “You should meet everyone. This is my boyfriend, Percy. That’s Tabitha, Duke, Wendy, Aurelia, Twitch, Diggy, and Grayson.”

Sapphire gave a shy wave, before glancing at her own friends. Lily could see her shrinking in on herself; maybe at the thought of being around so many people, or even at having only two friends, compared to Lily’s many. Lily gave her an encouraging smile, and the redhead seemed to relax a bit. “This is my friend, Sabrina, and my b-boyfriend, Miles.” She stumbled over the word boyfriend, a blush quickly coloring her pale cheeks. Similarly, Miles’ cheeks reddened, and he looked away with a smile of his own. Sabrina rolled her eyes at them with a fond smile on her face.

Fuck, they’re cute, Lily thought with dismay. We really do need to behave tonight.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tabitha spoke, giving the trio a welcoming grin. “Who’s ready to bowl?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and the large group made their way to the counter to grab their shoes. Conversation was light and easy; Sabrina – who admitted to preferring the name Bria – was quickly making friends of Aurelia and Lily, and Miles recognized Duke and Percy from school. Sapphire, Wendy, and Tabitha had already formed a mini group of their own, laughing and joking as they pulled on their shoes. Twitch, Grayson, and Diggy were slyly placing bets on which of the group would be the first to snap.

They paid for two lanes, splitting the group into two. On Lane 16, the order was Twitch, Aurelia, Sapphire, Wendy, and then Lily. On Lane 17, Bria was first, followed by Grayson, Miles, Percy, Tabitha, and Diggy.

When they were finally given their lanes, and all geared up to play, the rebels all glanced towards each other with matching looks, the message clear in their eyes: Don’t fuck this up.

They had faith in themselves. They could behave. After all, it was just a few hours.

“Lillian Margery Fabray-Berry, I am going to throttle you if you try that again!”

They could not behave.

The kindness thing worked for about twenty minutes. They had been a little less than polite with each other, but had been saints for the trio of newcomers. After she had ditched her oxygen bag, Percy had taught Sapphire how to throw the bowling ball down the lane (because, contrary to popular belief, it was different from the Wii), and Grayson was even kind enough to shove Twitch during his turn, to ensure that he wouldn’t pull ahead of Bria.

It was when Duke was up to bowl that things went to hell. He was third to last in the line up, leaving only Lily and Wendy to go after him. He knew that tonight wasn’t about winning. They had all agreed beforehand that tonight was about Sapphire, and making sure she had the night of her life. They wanted Bria and Miles to have the night of their lives, too. They might’ve been a group of troublemakers, but when they set their minds to something, they would do it. So while he wasn’t too concerned about winning, he was still aiming to beat Percy and Lily. And as long as they didn’t cheat, he could do that.

He passed Aurelia on her way back to her seat, and picked his ball up off of the machine. He made his way to the lane, staring at the ten looming bowling pins. He would knock them down. He could do this. He could get a strike. He was a great bowler, and this was no----

“Don’t miss.”

He let out a loud shriek, accidentally dropping the bowl into the lane, when Lily breathed those words into his ear. Behind him, he could hear his friends laughing -- or groaning, depending on who it was -- but he ignored them, watching in fury as his ball rolled down the gutter. He whirled on Lily, ready to tear her to bits, but was met with an innocent look.

Twitch cleared his throat loudly, and Tabitha slowly shook her head in warning. Right. Sapphire. Best behavior. Right.

He looked down at Lily, giving her the darkest glare he could muster, clearly communicating how lucky she was that he’d agreed to be good tonight. She just winked at him, and sauntered back to Percy’s side. And Percy -- the traitor -- couldn’t hide his smirk quick enough. 

On Duke’s roll, he only managed to knock down seven. Tabitha had gotten a spare, so their total wasn’t bad by any means.

But because Lily was the devil’s incarnate, she managed to get a strike. Add that to Percy’s own strike, and they were -- predictably -- in the lead.

At the realization of this, Tabitha, Duke, Wendy, and Aurelia all tensed up. Twitch, having gotten used to picking up on the group’s cues, paled. “Babe,” he called to Wendy, pulling her into his arms. He lowered his voice as he continued. “Best behavior, remember? This isn’t a competition. It’s just a fun time, and you promised you wouldn’t do this.”

Wendy blinked, and gave her boyfriend a look of pure innocence and confusion. “Do what?” She looked up as Duke made his way back to his seat. “Oh! It’s my turn. Wish me luck.” She planted a quick kiss on his lips before strutting up to the lane.

Twitch could only sigh as he watched her.

Shit was about to hit the fan. He just knew it.

Two turns later, and Lily had effectively cheated everyone out of a few points. She went easier on Percy -- not because he was her boyfriend and she was supposed to be nice to him, but because if he lost too badly, it affected their score as a couple -- but wasn’t above pulling a few tricks on him, either.

It hadn’t taken long for the group to drop their nice act after Duke’s first time. By the time it rolled back around to Twitch for his third roll, the group had already dissolved into arguments. Lily and Percy had bowled perfect strikes and spares so far, refusing to let the others distract them. Too much, anyway.

It was after Wendy had suspiciously slipped up during her third turn when the eloquent gem above was shouted in the face of her blonde friend.

(With quiet groans, Twitch and Grayson slapped twenty bucks a piece into Diggy’s hand.)

“That’s not very nice, Wendy,” Percy mocked, a shark-like grin on his face. At some point, they had lost sight of their objective (which was, at the beginning, to bring joy), and had found a new one: crushing their friends’ spirits into nothing but ashes.

Tabitha scoffed. “That’s not nice? Did you forget what you said when you missed your last strike?”

Percy sent the brunette a harsh glare. “That’s because someone decided to bump into me when I was letting the ball go!”

“You think that’s rough,” Duke cut in, an incredulous tone to his voice. “Have you not been watching your girlfriend? Or are you forgetting what she tried on your turn?”

Twitch shifted on his feet, exchanging a look with Grayson. “Guys...”

Aurelia rolled her eyes. “It’s not Lily’s fault you fall for the same trick every time. Don’t miss,” she repeated, taking on a mocking tone of her own.

“Like you’re any better,” Tabitha accused. “You damn near broke my arm with the ball you tried to give me!”

“Guys----”

“Oh, it was not that big,” Lily rebutted. “And it’s practically cheating to pick literally the smallest ball you can find. Anyone can bowl a strike with that thing!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Lillian,” Duke sneered. “Just because you feel the need to prove your masculinity doesn’t mean the rest of us need to!”

“Guys!”

“Don’t blame her because you’re weak,” Percy snapped. “Not everyone needs to grab a light ball to win!”

“You sure,” Wendy asked, giving him an accusatory look. “’Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ll do anything to win.”

Aurelia let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s rich, coming form you. Especially considering you literally slapped my ass to keep me from getting a spare!”

“GUYS!”

“What,” they all snapped, turning to face Twitch. He nodded towards Sapphire, Bria, and Miles, who were watching the argument with wide eyes and open mouths. (By this time, Diggy had already excused himself to laugh in private, and could be heard gasping for air behind a pole, Grayson bluntly telling him to get his shit together, this was serious.) The rebels all froze, and exchanged glances.

“Um,” Lily started, glancing at Percy. “Shit ---- we ----”

Sapphire bit her lip, her shoulders shaking in barely contained laughter. Beside her, Miles and Bria had both already lost their composure, which only spurred Diggy on further. Sapphire finally burst into laughter, bringing a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t think anyone could get so serious over ----over bowling.”

“You should see them play Super Smash Brothers,” Twitch noted dryly. “They’re a riot.”

Tabitha gave Twitch an unamused look (which usually indicated a punch to the arm somewhere in the near future), before she looked back to the trio of newcomers with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that,” she said sincerely. “We really were trying to be on our best behavior.”

“I can tell,” Sapphire giggled, taking a moment to catch her breath. “You guys were practically walking on eggshells twenty minutes ago. This... this is better.” She gave them a radiant smile, easily taking the tension from the group. “This is who you guys really are, right? I like this group a lot more than the group that forces themselves to play fair for the sake of the sick girl.”

Percy shook his head. “It wasn’t that, we just--”

“We get it,” Bria assured him with a quiet laugh. “Be on your best behavior for the new people, right? Anyone would do it. But it’s cooler like this. This is you, and that’s pretty cool.”

Giving them a relieved grin, Lily nodded. “Great. Because I suck at being nice.” She glanced back at the lane behind her. “And it’s my turn. Diggy! Get your shit together, it’s our turn!” She turned back to her boyfriend, giving him a wink before making her way back to the lane. (As promised earlier, he really couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She’d worn the slightly revealing tank top, leather jacket, skinny jeans, and boots for the sole purpose of distracting him, and even with this knowledge in mind, he still couldn’t stop staring.)

“Oh, fuck that,” Aurelia muttered. “She is not getting another strike.” Before she could go and make good on her threat, Percy grabbed the brunette around the waist, pulling her away. “Perce -- Percy! Percy Darling, you let me go, this instant!”

The rest of the group could only laugh as they watched them, and as Diggy resorted to barking in Lily’s ear to assure that she missed at least one pin. Much to the shock and amusement of the rebellion and co., it actually worked.

Lily looked up in surprise as a certain song started to play over the alley’s speakers. “This is my song,” she declared. “Bria, dance with me!”

“Wha -- it’s my turn!” It fell on deaf ears, however, as Lily pulled her towards an empty space. Realizing that there was no way out of what was surely a trap, she quickly called out, “Someone bowl for me!” Tabitha -- who sometimes had a heart in the face of competition -- was kind enough to go for her, but Bria barely noticed. She only laughed as Lily danced in front of her, hips swinging and hair tossing, and without much prompting, she started to dance and sing along, too. (What’s more, she sounded amazing.) Even Duke joined in, dancing alongside the girls, dissolving into laughs as Bria giggled into his chest. Wendy pulled Aurelia over, and the two girls joined in the small mosh of excited dancers.

When the song ended, it was Duke’s turn to bowl. “Okay, but real talk,” he began, giving his friends a stern look. “Don’t try anything. Alright? I’m going to bowl. And I’m going to get a strike. And if anyone tries to whisper in my ear, I might actually pick up one of those balls and hurt someone with it.”

“We’ll behave,” Tabitha swore, barely keeping her grin at bay.

Duke eyed her suspiciously before nodding. “Okay.” Giving his friends one final look, he walked back to his lane, picking up his ball. Before he bowled, he glanced back to make sure everyone was still where he’d left them. Seeing that they were, he relaxed marginally, and released the ball.

Naturally, that was the moment a shoe hit him in the back of the head. He let out a loud roar of frustration, and Diggy took that as his cue to run.

“How’d you guys even meet,” Sapphire asked as they took a break between games. Percy and Lily had won the last game, through every method of cheating they could come up with. (And trust, they had a fucking arsenal.) They had pushed three tables together to seat all of them, and had ordered food to share. The redhead shared an oversized plate of chili cheese fries with Bria and Miles, and the rebellion (and co.) had all chosen to split pizzas and fries, ordering large pitchers of drinks for the entire group.

Tabitha jerked a thumb at Percy. “I’ve known this loser for a few years. My brother usually arrests him.”

“That’s not something you tell people, Tabitha,” Percy sighed, swiping a pepperoni off of her plate. “I met Lillian in history last year.”

“I met Tabitha when I was crying on a roof,” Lily recounted. “And I met Wendy on the internet.”

“I met her when she got lost,” Twitch mentioned. “She was trying to get away from home and had no idea where she was.”

“And they proceeded to run away together,” Tabitha cooed, and she leaned into him, placing the back of her hand to her forehead. “A modern day love story.” She giggled when Twitch pushed her away.

“Aurelia lives with Twitch,” Wendy continued. “She needed friends who weren’t likely to get her shanked or thrown in jail...” She trailed off with a frown. “Wow. We’re actually more likely to get you shanked or thrown in jail than Monty and Bishop.”

“You sound shocked,” Aurelia pointed out in amusement, popping a fry into her mouth.

“Tabs and I saw Diggy and Grayson on our way to the froyo shop one day,” Lily recalled. “We thought it was Duke at first, but we had literally just left him with Perce, not even ten minutes ago, which led to Tabitha approaching them like the good girlfriend she is.”

Diggy and Duke exchanged grins. There was no question that Tabitha had changed both of their lives for the better. “Grayson and I went to camp together when we were kids,” Diggy said. “I think we were lowkey dating before we were even dating.”

“We even adopted a koala,” Grayson bragged.

“That’s because you’re dorks,” Percy noted, rolling his eyes. “What about you guys? How did you all meet?”

Miles grinned. “I work at the motel Sapphire’s family owns,” he said. “Her brother sent me to check on her one time. And since I’m possibly the worst employee ever, I snuck her out of the motel and took her on a hike.”

“Romeo, O Romeo,” Wendy teased.

Sapphire glanced at Bria with a smile. “Bria needed a place to stay,” she said without revealing too much. “I saw her when she first showed up at the hotel and we kind of just clicked, I guess.”

Bria smiled at Sapphire, before looking back to the group at large. “Miles’ brother was my foster dad for a while.” At some point, it had clearly fizzled out, the group noted at large. They knew better than to ask, however.

From his seat next to Tabitha, Duke had gone quiet. Noticing this, Miles looked to him. “What's that look for, man?”

“...Huh,” he breathed quietly. “I just realized... You guys all met in fairly normal ways. I’m kind of jealous.” 

For a moment, no one understood what he meant, until Lily choked on her pizza. Once she finally got it to go down the right pipe, she buried her face in Percy’s shoulder, tears streaming down her face from the force of her laughter.

Aurelia straightened in her seat, giving the two a confused look. “How did you two meet?”

Duke and Lily shared a long look, before they both broke into laughter again. Wendy looked to Percy and Tabitha, who both just shrugged, having never heard the story themselves.

“I had been in town for all of five minutes,” Duke laughed. “Five minutes, Lillian.”

The blonde pushed herself out of her seat, and stumbled to the brunette, curling herself up in his lap. “I’m sorry,” she gasped through her giggles. “I’m so sorry, oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Hey,” Tabitha urged, poking Lily in the head. “The rest of us want to know, too.”

Finding some semblance of control, Duke took a deep breath. Schooling his face into a careful blankness, he looked back at his group of friends. “She found me on the street and made me break into a store at three o’clock in the morning.”

Bria gave them a suspicious look. “I get the feeling that’s not the whole story.”

Tabitha suddenly snapped her fingers, pointing at the pair. “That’s how Ryker knew you! I remember that!”

“Remember what,” Percy pressed with a pout. “Why am I the only one who doesn’t remember?”

“Oh my God,” Tabitha groaned, ignoring him. “Lily, you’re the worst.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily giggled, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry, he just looked so innocent. I had to make him do it. He was new and friendless; what did he have to lose?”

“Everything, actually,” Duke answered. He shifted in his seat, his hand on Lily’s hip to keep her from falling. “Let me tell you guys about the night this demon and I met. I’d like to formally title this story: How to Plant Sex Toys in the Mayor’s House and Not Get Your Ass Thrown Into Prison for the Rest of Your Life.”

Tabitha was in the middle of an interesting debate with Miles over whether or not joining the mafia was a successful business move, when she heard Duke calling her.

“Tabitha,” he panted, tugging on her arm. “Tabitha, you have to help me.”

“Help you what?” She didn’t sound concerned. But, to her credit, she rarely actually had reason to be concerned when it came to her friends.

“I actually told them,” he said. “Pily -- I actually told them the name of my freshman friend, and I just have this horrible feeling that he won’t ever talk to me again.”

Tabitha’s eyes softened. “Oh, baby,” she muttered, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’ll be lucky if he even shows up to school when Percy’s through with him.”

“There’s no way that’s even legal.”

Wendy gasped, placing a hand on her heart. “You doubt me,” she cried, giving Sapphire a look of utter betrayal. “How could you?”

“How could you,” Sapphire quipped back. “You said Lily played dirty, but you’re just filthy.”

“She has a point,” Bria agreed. “Not that I disapprove.”

“Et tu, Bri?” Wendy shook her head, a pained look on her face. “I can’t believe I thought we were friends.” She paused. “Oh, wait. There are no friends in this game.”

“THAT’S HOW WINNING IS DONE,” Percy shouted from somewhere on the opposite side of the bowling alley.

Sapphire looked at Percy with wide eyes, then to Wendy. “How?”

When it was finally time to go home, Lily didn’t hesitate to hug Sapphire, Miles, and Bria goodnight. “I had fun,” she told them, pulling out of Sapphire’s arms.

(”You’re only saying that because you won,” Duke grumbled, receiving an elbow in the stomach from his loving girlfriend.)

“I did, too,” Sapphire said. She brushed hair out of her eyes, tugging it out of her cannula. She’d had to put it back on a few times, but they respected her decision to take it off when she wanted to. Now that the night was over, she placed it back on, slightly embarrassed until Wendy told her how adorable she looked. “This... honestly, it was the best night of my life. I got a boyfriend, and a lot of new friends, and I got to go bowling.” Her smile stretched so wide, it was as if it could split her face in two. “I’ve never had this much fun.”

“Me, neither,” Bria quietly agreed. Aurelia gave her hand a quick squeeze.

Lily’s shoulder dropped in visible relief. “Really? I’m so glad! We just wanted you guys to have fun, so we tried to behave, but...”

“There’s a reason they’re called the rebellion,” Grayson drawled out, tugging on the tip of Lily’s hair. He squealed, jumping away when she whirled around to slap his hand away.

“We’re glad that you had fun,” Percy continued, as his girlfriend chased Grayson around the parking lot. “It’s all we wanted. And if watching us cheat and try to throttle each other in order to win is what made your night, all the better.”

“And we really are your friends now,” Tabitha reminded them. “So if you ever wanted to do anything at all, or if you ever need anything, call, okay? We all exchanged numbers, so don’t hesitate to use them.”

“You, too,” Sapphire agreed. “I know it’s not exactly fun hanging out with the sick girl, but--”

“Stop,” Twitch interrupted. “We all liked hanging out with you, sickness be damned. We don’t mind being sick. We all have our demons. They’re just another part of us. We like you guys for you.”

Sapphire beamed at him, gratitude lighting her eyes.

“I say we do this again next week,” Wendy suggested. “Except next time, we’re playing baseball.”

“Wendy, no.”

[stephenmckiney]

i know you’re trying to forget

There are a few things that Stephen knows for a fact:

One. He has three sets of parents. Two of which would be very upset if they knew he wasn’t doing what he told them he was doing. The other set would just use it as another reason to get him out of the house for the rest of the year.

Two. He thought he was the worst buddy to have during this whole... stalker thing. But no. He very clearly isn’t. Fiona is, because while he has terrible ideas, she doesn’t talk him out of them.

And three. They are so not old enough to be here.

He holds back a nervous sigh as they step further into the club. Banshee is this club that opened up  just a few weeks ago, and Eli found himself getting hooked after the first visit. While clubs aren’t exactly Stephen’s scene -- he’s sixteen, alright? -- he finds himself going in and out of a lot of them, thanks to his best friend’s lack of sense and morality. And, from his experience, he can tell that this club is one of the best in Lima. It’s also easiest to get into. seeing as Audie’s sister works here and lets them in.

“Ariel would kill me for coming in here,” Stephen mutters to Fiona, shoving his hands into his pockets. As innocent as people like to think the blonde is, she’s not. She has this smirk on her face as her eyes roam around the club. He doesn’t know if she’s looking for Noah and the boys, or if she’s mentally undressing everyone  she sees. Both are highly possible.

The blonde turns to look at him, and it suddenly hits the jock that she never intended to stay in tonight. The outfit she’s wearing isn’t something that you wear when you’re staying inside. It’s something you wear when you want everyone to look your way. Sneaky little minx. Her lips curl into a smile that easily confirms what he’s thinking. “Then she just won’t find out,” she says, winking at him. “Do you see them yet?”

With a defeated eye roll, he starts to glance around the club. It’s hard to see anything, with the strobe lights, and the large mass of bodies rubbing against each other. He tries to see through the thickness of the crowd, but comes up short. He shrugs, his eyes roving back to his companion. “I can’t see ‘em.”

Instead of being disappointed -- like a sweet, innocent girlfriend should be -- Fiona just grins, and reaches for his hand. On reflex, his fingers interlock with hers, and he gives her a confused look. “We’ll find them eventually,” she shrugs. “But we should blend in until we do, don’t you think?”

Before he can protest -- she knows he hates dancing -- he finds himself being tugged onto the dance floor. In what feels like the blink of an eye, he’s in the middle of the crowd, and Fiona is turning to face him. She guides his hands to her waist, and her arms slip around his neck. “Just follow my lead,” she whispers in his ear as her body starts moving.

Renee loves clubs. Really, she does. She enjoys them just as much as any underage teen enjoys being in the exact place they know they aren’t allowed to be in. It’s not that she doesn’t like clubbing. It’s just that she doesn’t want to be at this one, right this very second. She’d feel a lot safer if she were back at Tatum’s place, curled up with the girls for movie night.

She’s being stalked, for crying out loud.

Eli, clearly, has no worries about it. He’s in the middle of two guys right now, and their hands are moving to ungodly places. She doesn’t know who picked out his outfit for the night -- it wasn’t him; everyone knows better than to let Eli pick out his own clothes when they went out, he would take years -- but they did a damn good job at making him look delicious. If she didn’t know he swung for the other team, she might’ve even made something of an effort to dance with him. Maybe.

She has to smile as she looks at her friend. He’s been so worried about all of it; it’s nice for him to finally let loose.

Her eyes leave the boy, and she searches for her other two companions. She knows they’re still close; Noah is far too protective to let any of them out of his sight. Even if they can’t see him, she knows for a fact that he can see her. She waves to Lacey for another drink, though careful not to get too drunk. She’s too on edge, and refuses to let her guard down that much. So, she’s not as good at having fun as the others. Sue her.

“You know, if you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that,” Lacey quotes as she sets down her drink. Renee gives her an unamused look, but the older girl laughs anyway, leaning against the bar. “You’re here to have fun, NeNe. Stop looking like a pouty wolf and go dance with someone.”

Renee shakes her head, knocking back the shot. She winces as it hits her, then sets the glass back down. “I can’t. Not when there’s... you know.”

Lacey rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, silly girl,” she promises. “You look way too hot to be sitting here on your own right now. Go out there and dance. And if anyone makes you uncomfortable, just look at me and I’ll fucking wreck them.”

Despite herself, Renee smiles and finds herself pushing up from her seat. “If something happens to me, I’m telling Violet is was all you,” she warns.

Lacey simply flips her off and gets back to work as Renee makes her way to the dance floor. The pup -- it feels so weird to call herself that, even if everyone has already dubbed her as one -- navigates her way to the dance floor. She doesn’t make her way to the middle, the way she often does. Instead, she lingers around the edges, in a random spot, and she starts moving her body.

Dancing is easy for her.  It’s always been something she’s prided herself in, the way she can move her body in such a fluid motion, in a way that a lot of people simply can’t. She’s dancing alone right now, and while it feels strange, she doesn’t feel lonely. Here, in the thickness of the crowd, she feels anything but alone.

She definitely doesn’t feel alone when she feels a pair of hands slide around her waist from behind, gently pulling her back into them. She’s pressed against a warm body, and the musky scent tells her it’s a guy. A girl sidles up in front of her, throwing her a seductive smirk. They’re both older than her, though not by much, and fear pools in her stomach, mixing with excitement. She keeps dancing, and their bodies conform to her rhythm.

There’s something sensual about being in between a man and a woman. She feels the both of them moving against her, feels his lips on her neck, her lips brushing against hers. She probably shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be allowing herself to get so caught up in two strangers, shouldn’t let herself be seduced so easily..

She looks away from the girl in front of her, and her eyes latch onto Noah’s. They hold gazes for a long moment,  silently communicating back and forth. After a moment, she nods, and he looks away.

She keeps dancing.

It’s all kinds of awkward. Stephen is a lot of things, but a dancer isn’t one of them. He doesn’t really know how to move his body the way that he’s apparently supposed to. And it’s weird dancing with Fiona, because she’s not who or what he’s into at all. He tries to seem less awkward and humiliated than he feels, which results in him not moving. Then she gives him a look, and he forces his body to move. He moves how he can, the way he’s seen Elijah and so many other guys do at clubs.  It’s all types of weird, and he desperately wants to not do it anymore, but Fiona gets this bright smile, and he forces himself to keep moving, awkward though it is.

Then, it isn’t. It’s not awkward, anymore, it’s kind of fun. His body sliding against hers, legs tangling in a way that isn’t exactly uncomfortable. Stephen hasn’t liked any girls since Renee, back in the seventh grade. He hasn’t found them all that attractive, but in this moment, he’s acutely aware of just how beautiful Fiona Aldridge is. He watches as she turns, her hips moving in a hypnotizing manner. Her ass brushes against his crotch for a moment, and he thanks every extraterrestrial power out there that he doesn’t get hard. It’s weird enough to suddenly find his best friend’s sister hot as hell in that way; he wouldn’t be able to face anyone ever again if he suddenly started sporting hard ons from dancing with taken girls.

She turns back to face him and runs a hand through her hair. It’s wild and untamed, and suddenly, she doesn’t seem so much like an angel. She seems exactly like the kind of girl to fall for Noah Bates -- Aldrigde? -- and his bad boy charm. Stephen’s known Fiona for as long as he can really remember, and he thinks this is the first time he’s seen her. She suddenly isn’t the little kid he knew back then, isn’t the twelve year old he said goodbye to. She’s this new girl, an uncontrollable storm in the confines of a supernova. She gives him a small, devilish smile as if she knows exactly what she’s thinking, and she steps closer.

Their hips roll against each other, and he finds himself smiling as they dance. He’ll never be as experienced as Eli -- doesn’t really want to be -- but he’s apparently doing well enough to get a few  appreciative looks, and Fiona throws her head back, losing herself in the movements and in the music. He loses himself, too, until they aren’t two taken friends awkwardly grinding in the middle of a club. They’re two people releasing all inhibitions, bodies rocking together, until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. There’s a certain wildness to them, to the way Fiona swings her hair, to the way Stephen rolls his body. They don’t look like two teenagers in the wrong place. They look like two kids who’ve been buried under weights threatening to crush them, finally getting out, finally escaping everything that’s held them down.

They look good, he thinks.

He looks up at her, but his eyes immediately shoot past her. “Fi,” he mumbles in her ear. “I think I found our boyfriends.”

Declan can’t help but smile as he watches Renee and Eli dance. He’s extremely wary of the people they dance with, but he doesn’t cut into their fun. They’ve all been so tense since this whole roses thing started, and they’ve all been in desperate need of a release. It’s good to see them letting go; especially Renee.

If only...

He tosses a glance over to Noah. The taller boy hasn’t taken his eyes off of the other two once. And while it’s nice that he’s looking out for them, it’s also ridiculous how serious he’s being. “You know, they’re never going to get laid if you don’t look away. Unless you’re into watching,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Remind me why you exist,” Noah quips back without missing a beat.

“You invited me.”

“You would’ve come anyway.”

Declan grins. “Touche.” Pack dynamics are a weird thing. Tatum is very clearly their Alpha, and Marilyn is his mate, the alpha female. Ariel and Loki are pack mom and dad, but Holden is their anchor, and Caleb is their shoulder to cry on. Within the pups, things are the different.  Declan is the alpha -- by unspoken, but unanimous decision -- and Stephen, his mate. But instead of being the other alpha figure, Stephen is the pup of the pups, much to his chagrin.  Violet is the alpha female, and Noah, the protector, with Elijah being the mom of the pups, and Fiona being their sunshine. Whenever the pups go out, it’s almost a law for one of the authority figures -- Declan, Violet or Noah -- to be with them. When it comes to clubs, Declan almost never passes up an opportunity to go with. So, yeah, he probably would’ve come anyway.

Noah lifts his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and continues to scan the crowd, before freezing up. Immediately on alert, Declan stiffens next to him. “What? Do you see something?” Renee and Eli are still in the same places, and they seem perfectly content where they are.

“Yeah,” Noah answers, a bit dazed, sounding vaguely shocked and amused. “Your boyfriend.”

Confused, Declan follows Noah’s line of vision and blinks. “And your girlfriend.” He tries not to feel jealous as he watches the two of them dance. Stephen isn’t much of a dancer, but he’s doing pretty fucking great right now. He never dances like that with Declan. He doesn’t look at Declan that way when he tries to make him dance, either. Swallowing his jealousy, he looks at Noah and smiles as an idea forms in his head.  “I don’t know about you, but I take that as permission.”

Looking over at him, Noah gives him a look. “Permission to what?” All Declan does is lift his eyebrows, and Noah gets the message. He scoffs. “You couldn’t handle me.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Declan declares, grabbing a hold of the taller boy and dragging him onto the dance floor. Stephen and Fiona want to play that game? Then, fine. So will they.

There’s a four inch difference between Declan and Noah. It’s a damnable four inches that Declan will never not hate, and it makes him the smaller spoon between the two of them -- Noah made him swear to never mention that one day, though there’s no denying that it was the best nap either of them had ever had -- and the smaller... well, everything. Noah smirks down at him as they start dancing, and Declan resists the urge to glare up at him. Instead, he continues to sway, surprised when Noah so easily falls into the movement.

Declan and Noah’s interactions have been limited. Noah insists that he hates everyone who isn’t Fiona or Clarke, and Declan usually isn’t too pressed to prove the boy wrong. It’s not like anyone actually believes the guy. He’s the pup equivalent of Loki, except he’s a bit nicer to everyone who isn’t Violet. (Those two have a very strange relationship, and Declan doesn’t even try to understand it anymore.) From their limited interactions, Declan would’ve never pegged Noah as a talented dancer. He had figured his talents were limited to lacrosse and probably sex, but the boy moves like a natural. It wasn’t too fast, or too slow, and it isn’t as forced as Declan was expecting.

He almost hates to admit it, but Noah’s actually good.

A certain pressure seems to lift from Declan’s shoulders as they dance. It’s incredibly easy to become a part of the danger that is Noah Bates-Aldridge. It’s easy to grind against him, eyes locking. His eyes fall to Noah’s lips as the other boy runs his tongue over his bottom lip, before taking it between his teeth. It’s enticing in a way it shouldn’t be, in a way it never has been, as Declan feels the abrupt urge to press his lips against the other’s.

A low moan escapes his lips as he glances down, and instead of teasing him, the way he expected Noah to, the taller boy just guides his eyes back up him until they’re looking to each other’s eyes again, bodies swaying against one another, lips just inches away from each other.  Everything in him wants to close the distance between him, taste the enigma that is Noah, but he knows better. Dancing with him is one thing; kissing him is being unfaithful. More than that, it’s what he wants. Stephen will forgive Declan if he kisses Noah -- it’s no longer a secret how much Stephen longed for the older boy; it makes Declan uncomfortably jealous sometimes, but it’s not like he doesn’t understand -- but he’d be livid if he found that he let Noah win so easily.

Noah’s eyes leave his, and he makes eye contact with someone over Declan’s shoulder. The way he smirks leaves Declan with the sneaking suspicion that he’s looking at Stephen. It never ends well for anyone when that happens. Everything is a competition with them. As expected, Noah wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him impossibly closer. Every move they make connects every part of their body, and it reverberates within Declan, until he feels an uncomfortable stirring downstairs.

He’s contemplating making some kind of comment to even out the playing field a bit -- it’s beyond unfair and a bit offensive how unfazed Noah is by this -- when the protector stops moving. The blood drains from his face, and Declan immediately feels a sense of dread. Before he can even ask, Noah says: “Eli just punched someone.”

And, if he’s being completely honest, that’s probably the most shocking thing that’s happened all year.

“Eli, stop!”

Renee will forever deny the way her body shakes. She wraps her arms around herself, watching in horror as Elijah pummels the man she was dancing with before. Elijah Clifford Chambers has never been anything even remotely resembling violent. They’ve always left the pummeling to Stephen; and since he’s gotten his anger under control, it’s been up to Violet and Noah to deal with the things that go bump in the night.

Never Eli.

But he doesn’t even look like Elijah right now. He looks so angry; he looks the way Noah did when Eli came back from him last date with a busted lip; the way Kellan did when Violet came back from visiting a ‘friend’, with a limp and a black eye. He looks angrier than anyone ever should.

He looks like a man possessed. 

She’s about to cry out for him to stop again, when there are suddenly arms peeling him off of the guy. It’s Stephen, surprisingly. She didn’t even know he was here, but he’s the one pulling Elijah off of the man, he’s the one holding him back. Renee steps towards them, but a hand curls around her wrist, pulling her back. It’s Fiona, and the blonde gives her an inquisitive look. “I-I don’t know why --’ It’s a lie. It’s such a lie, because she knows exactly why Eli attacked, but she isn’t willing to admit it yet. She sees Declan step in front of Stephen and Eli, saying something, then Noah is standing protectively in front of her, blocking both girls from  those in front of him.

She doesn’t see or hear anything until Stephen gives them all an alarmed look. “Cops!”

Needless to say, they’re out of the club in the blink of an eye.

They don’t stop until they’re far down the block, closer to Holden’s house. Which, if Stephen remembers correctly, is where they were supposed to be in the first place. They all stop, about two blocks away from the man’s house, all out of breath.

“What,” Declan starts after a minutes, leaning against a tree. “The hell... happened?”

Renee and Eli both stiffen, and Stephen feels an all too familiar anger curling in the pits of his stomach. It’s oddly calming, if he’s being honest. He’s missed being angry. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time, a result of too many pills, but now he’s off his meds and he has a justifiable reason to get pissed. Because someone has clearly hurt Renee, and that’s not okay. The only person allowed to ruin her day is him, and even he doesn’t leave her shaken this way.

Eli turns hard eyes to the brunette, and she curls in on herself. “You going to tell them, or do you want me to?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Fiona cuts in, grabbing Renee’s hand. “What matters is that we got out of there and we’re all okay.”

They all fall silent in agreement, and they looked at each other for a moment before Declan uses his position as alpha pup to make an executive decision. “No one tells Ariel.”

( t b c. )

[effiexcho]

run, baby, run

                            (                         don’t ever look back)

Waking up at four o’clock in the morning never got old. No, better yet -- it got old really fast. Six years, and Effie Cho was still questioning her decision to become a flight attendant. Every morning, she woke and forced herself to get ready, pretending she wasn’t jealous at the sight of her brother and his boyfriend still curled up in bed. Every morning, she got dressed and put on a smile, heading into work.

And some mornings, such as this one, she was on Starbucks duty.

“Effie Cho, you are a goddess,” Holden moaned, taking a sip of his coffee. He was too busy praising the gods of coffee to notice the reddening of her cheeks. Ella, however, was less distracted and nudged the other girl with her elbow, holding back a laugh.

Effie held back a whine. Having been working with the crew since she got hired, she had become close to all of them. Having known Ella since she was a little girl, the two were as close as sisters. So of course Ella knew about her crush on the pilot. The pilot, who - by the way - happened to be her boyfriend. When the secret came to light, Effie had kind of been hoping that Ella would be angry with her. But, in true Ella Carlisle fashion, she had just laughed and said she understood. Everyone had a crush on Holden at some point.

Still not helping.

“You slept last night, right?” A tanned man asked, pulling on his suit jacket. He raised an eyebrow at Holden, who tried to hide behind Effie. “Holden.”

“Tate’s in charge, today!” The co-pilot whined, stomping his feet like the five year old he really was. “And he slept, like, a lot. Plus, Effie’s got my back,” he pointed out with a grin, tossing his arm over the Asian girl’s shoulders. “She gets me extra strong coffee every morning.”

“Because you never sleep?”

“Because she loves me, Cedric!”

“Effie was on coffee today,” another man asked, stumbling onto the plane. “Oh thank God.” He accepted the coffee from the girl and looked as if he would have jumped on her, had Cedric not slapped him upside his head. “Ow! What was that for?”

Realizing that this wouldn’t get anywhere, Effie looked to Ella. “Is Tate in the cockpit?”

Ella glanced behind her, then nodded at Effie. “He got in just a few minutes before you did. I’ll start on the snacks. Give him his coffee? You know how he gets when we miss him.” The entire crew suppressed a shudder. While the oldest man was a great guy -- well loved by everyone who met him -- he could be insufferable if he went too long without caffeine.

“Boarding starts in thirty,” Cedric called, heading towards the bathroom, with Caleb right behind him. If not for the obvious stake that the pilots had claimed on the thinner of the two, Effie would’ve assumed that they were going to have a bit of private time in there. They were both attractive, into men, and it would hardly be the first time Cedric used the plane’s bathroom to get a bit of action.

You learn pretty early on not to question anything with this crew.

Two cups of coffee in hand, Effie made her way to the cockpit. She didn’t bother to knock, simply entered and closed the door behind her. “Morning,” she greeted with a smile as she slipped into the seat next to him.

Tatum looked over at her and gave her a soft smile. “Morning, Effie ---- that mine?”

Effie nodded with a smile, handing the man his drink. “Your June Wednesday Special,” she announced, curling up in the seat. “I know Holden forgot last week, and it always throws off your groove when you don’t have it.”

Tatum let out an appreciative mewl, bringing the coffee cup to his lips. “How did the world make it so long without you?”

Effie let out a laugh, running a hand through her hair. She always felt comfortable in the cockpit. She had always wanted to be a pilot, but knew that women weren’t as accepted as men were in the field. Every now and again, she and Holden would switch jobs for the day, and she would sit with Tatum, watching the sky as they flew and imagining herself flying. Sometimes, she and Tatum would chat for hours on end; other times, she would just sit in silence. The man was a comforting presence in her life; he was like the older brother she had lacked in her life, when she was trying to raise her younger brother against the authoritative ways of their parents.

Cohen represented a world of bills and responsibilities, tears and fears; Tatum represented a world of freedom and peace, happiness and calm. Even though they were completely different, she would never trade one world for the other.

She and Tatum spoke amiably while he made sure the plane was ready for take-off. He asked how things were going with her, and if she had raised up the money to send Cohen to college next year, and if she ever went on that date with the man who worked security. In return, she asked him about his anonymous lover, and if he ever got around to getting that dog.

Time passed easily, and Effie was genuinely surprised when Holden knocked lightly on the door. “Doors are open. I think Caleb’s scaring away some rich dude. That, or he’s seducing him. He’s my best friend, and I still don’t understand him, half of the time.”

Effie laughed and uncurled from her position, stretching her cramped muscles. She looked over at the two pilots. “Call them in?”

Holden nodded, and turned back out of the cockpit. “Yo! Caleb, Ella, Cedric! Get in here!”

Moments later, the three flight attendants were entering the small room, with Cedric dragging the other boy. (Literally, nothing new.) “Time?” Ella looked around the group with a smile on her face.

“Time,” Effie confirmed, glancing at Caleb. “Do you have them?”

Caleb scoffed. “Don’t I always?” He patted his pockets and shoved his hand into one of them, pulling out a small container. He passed it around, each person taking one of the tic tacs inside. “Who starts this time?”

“My turn,” Effie said, holding out her fist. “Fly on?”

“Fly on,” the rest of the crew echoed, and they simultaneously tossed the tic tacs into their mouths. They all bid each other good luck, before the four attendants left the cockpit to greet the passengers.

Show time.

Kellan had this thing about flying.

Sean personally didn’t mind it. He’d been on more flights than he could count. After a while, the novelty of them wore off, and he didn’t so much as blink when he stepped onto one. Kellan, however, had never been on a plane. Neither had his twin sister, which was why the both of them looked two seconds away from puking. Or passing out. Whichever one happened first.

“Just breathe,” he instructed for the fourth time, ushering his baby brother into his designated seat. “It’s just a few hours, and it’s not even scary. Once we’re up in the air, you start to feel like you’re in a car. As long as you don’t think about it, you forget that you’re in the air at all.”

Fiona groaned. “Now, we’ll think about it.”

Scout, at least, had no problem. She had already settled into her seat by the window, and was flipping through her book while chewing idly on a piece of gum. She had flown a few times already, and had no fears about doing it again. Sean was thankful for her, at the very least.

(Growing up, Scout had always been more like a wife than a sister. Their parents were shit when it came to raising them, and Sean’s stomach knotted in disgust just at the thought of them. He and Scout had raised the twins, and each other. Puberty had been a frighteningly awkward time for both of them, but they made it through. Sean had a lot to live for, but he could honestly say his sister was his rock.)

If nothing else, the twins would feel better by having her sit next to them. Sean was on the other side of the aisle, but luckily, he was in the aisle seat; close enough to reach other and touch Kellan, if he also reached out, and close enough to talk to them without having to yell or turn around awkwardly. Admittedly, they could’ve flown first class, and had better seating, but Sean didn’t want to spoil them. They could survive flying with the rest of the population.

“I’m a lot less worried about the height,” Kellan hissed, glaring at his older brother. “Someone made us watch Non-Stop, the Grey and Snakes on a Plane last night.”

Scout and Sean exchanged a look, and the two of them bit the insides of the cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. It was only tradition that they all watched worst case scenario movies before they did something for the first time. They wouldn’t be Aldridge’s if they didn’t.

“Don’t worry, bud,” Sean assured his brother, running his fingers through the younger boy’s hair. “They checked everyone thoroughly before letting us on the plane. I doubt there are snakes, and I don’t have enough time in the world to tell you how unlikely we are to fall into a Grey-like situation.”

“Don’t jinx it,” the twins chorused urgently, pulling a laugh from both of their siblings.

The blonde man was about to offer his siblings more words of comfort when he heard from behind him, “Excuse me.” He moved on impulse, turning to see who’d spoken. A beautiful blonde girl smiled at him and slid into his row, taking the window seat.

A taller boy -- couldn’t have been much older than the twins, Sean noted -- groaned as he finished putting their bags in the storage compartment. “Why do you always take the window seat?”

The woman -- still not too much older than the twins -- raised an eyebrow at the teen. “Would you rather I sit in the middle?”

The kid thought for a moment before shrugging and sliding into the seat next to her.

“----Sean?” The Marine looked back to find his siblings looking at him in an all too knowing way. Kellan’s lips twitched in a telling way. “Wanna sit down now?”

Giving them an unamused look, the man resisted the urge to flip them off, then took his seat. The blonde by the window smiled at him as he sat, and he gave her a tentative smile back. She was beautiful, there was no denying it. If Sean had to guess her age, she was only eighteen -- maybe even younger. Too young for him -- at 29 -- to even be considering anything with her. Not that he was. She was just a girl on the plane. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he thought, glancing at the boy who she spoke fervently to. She had a boyfriend anyway.

“Good morning, Effie.”

“Good morning, Mister McAlister,” the flight attendant greeted with a smile, standing on her tip toes to rearrange the bags in the compartment above him. Bags, mind you, that he put in. Wrong. Purposely.

“Aw,” the man cooed. “I keep telling you to call me Ollie. Here, let me.” He stood form his seat, noting the way her breath caught in her throat at their close proximity. He maneuvered himself around her, not accidentally brushing his body against hers. Then he was standing at her back, pushing the bags in the correct way.

The woman -- 23, half Japanese, half Korean, born in America, single -- thanked him, then turned to face him. “I don’t think I’m allowed to call you that.”

“Why not,” he asked incredulously. “What are they gonna do, fire you for calling me what I asked? What happened to the customer always being right?”

Effie laughed, straightening out her blazer -- a part of him wanted her to just take it off already but he ignored it -- before crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair was down today, falling around her shoulders in curls around her uniform. She looked breathtaking, and the laugh made him lose track of thought. “I guess not.” She glanced down the aisle -- most people were already seated, toying with their phones or bags -- then back at him. “Okay, Ollie.” His name sounded like sex coming out of her mouth. “Where are you headed?”

“Where are you headed,” he tossed back, the way he always did. This had become their game since the very first flight. She would ask where he was going, and he would give an ominous answer. At some point, he would disappear between flights. Then, some weeks later, he would be right back at the airport in Ohio. She hardly needed to ask anymore, but continued to, simply because it was how they worked.

The girl smiled at him, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. It was ridiculous, how much he wanted this woman. He hardly knew her, and she knew next to nothing about him. He shouldn’t have ached so much for her. He shouldn’t have spent so many days and nights thinking about her, wondering why he never worked up the courage to ask her for her number. There was no way he should’ve wanted her this much.

“Effie,” another flight attendant called. Effie and Ollie turned to look at the tanned man, and he raised an eyebrow at the girl. She blushed, ducking her head. Instead of saying more, the man just chuckled, and continued on his way.

Effie cleared her throat, brushing hair out of her eyes. “I’ll see you?”

“I’ll be here,” he promised, watching as she walked away. He sank back into his seat, his eyes snapping to his snickering brother. “Shut up.”

“Dude, you couldn’t be more obvious if you tried,” Ezra choked.

“Can you blame me?” Ollie mumbled, glancing back at the stewardess. She was now five rows down, talking to some guy with a baby in his lap. Ollie tried his hardest not to feel jealous. “She’s beautiful.”

Ezra let out a noise. “Yeah, she is. But she’s also not my type. That other flight attendant, though...”

Ollie looked back to his brother with a blank expression. “Seriously?”

“Oh my god.”

Marilyn looked up at the expression. She raised an eyebrow at the flight attendant who openly gaped at her. “Not what I usually go by, but sure.”

“Oh my god.”

Adelaide let out a huff of laughter, coming to stand next to her with Olivia in her arms, as Chandler struggled with their bags. “This one’s cute. Don’t break him, Mari.”

“Oh my god.”

“Is he going to stop saying that any time soon,” Chandler complained, dropping down into his seat. “What’s with him?”

“You own the plane.”

Marilyn blinked in surprise. “How do you know that?”

The flight attendant -- a slight boy, pale, owlish, and breakable -- blinked at her. “How does anyone not know that?”

Adelaide and Chandler both snorted. “You’d be surprised,” the blonde said. Marilyn couldn’t help but smirk. She was pretty good at flying under the radar. Every now and again, however, someone like this would show up. Someone who, somehow, knew exactly who she was.

“Marilyn Banks,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

The young man looked down at it with a frown. “You won’t, like, kill me if I touch you, right? Or fire me?”

Marilyn rolled her eyes. “Scout’s honor.”

“Caleb Russo,” he replied, shaking her hand. “It’s, ah, an honor to have you, Miss Banks.”

“Call me Mari,” she requested.

Caleb nodded, though he was obviously still mentally freaking out. “Mari, right. It’s nice to have you. Business in Louisiana?”

The girl smiled, shaking her head. “My friends and I just needed to get out of Shitsville, Ohio for a while. We’re on the plane all day.”

At that, the boy’s eyes grew so wide, she was honestly impressed. “All d -- okay. That’s, ah. That’s -- right. Great, I’ll, um --- drinks?”

Marilyn tried her hardest not to laugh, though Adelaide didn’t show the same courtesy. “A water, a diet Coke, and a Dr. Pepper?”

“Coming right up,” he promised urgently, stumbling over his feet to get away from her.

With a last look in his direction, the girl sat down in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. She glanced over to see both of her friends staring at her. “What?”

“You’re so cruel,” Chandler cried.

She smiled.

Loki Beaulieu was hard to please. He wouldn’t lie and say otherwise. Very few things could make him completely happy. Ariel made him happy. Auggie made him happy.

Planes typically did not.

He chose to suck it up, however, as Auggie was on the brink of sleep and would only wake up if he started bitching now. Ariel smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. He gave her a hard look, letting her know that they were far from done talking about this.

“You’re being a baby about it,” his fiance chided, lightly slapping his arm. “You’ve probably flown more than all of the flight attendants here combined. Why are you so grouchy?”

“Probably because I’ve flown more than all of the flight attendants combined,” he hissed. “You know I hate flying, and you tricked me into it anyway.”

The redhead gave him an unimpressed look. “I offered to make you breakfast, and you caved. That’s not tricking you. That’s you being cheap and gullible.”

He was about to snap at her when he heard a groan from across the aisle. A kid -- no older than sixteen, if he had to guess -- looked seconds away from puking. He was tightly clutching another guy’s hand, though the other looked worried and amused, more than he looked scared. “Breathe, babe.”

“Shut up,” the brunette kid snapped. “You don’t get ta say squat. If I die on this plane and lose that scholarship, I’lll frickin’ end you, Bristol.”

“I mean, if you die, I’ll prob’ly end up dyin’, too,”  the blond said matter of factly. “But it’s nice that you have faith in my survival.”

“Declan.”

The blond, Declan, rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. Besides, whose idea was it to go to a lacrosse camp in Louisiana, again?”

“You didn’t have to agree with me.”

“You’re going to lacrosse camp,” Loki couldn’t help but ask, causing both of them to look to him.

In front of him, a kid around Declan’s age turned in his seat. “’s it in Zebon Park?”

The two boys blinked, but the one who was previously freaking out nodded. “Yeah. We got scouted at our last game. Some guy said we had a chance at the big leagues.”

The boy in front of Loki nodded. “Told ya he’d give ya a scholarship if ya came for the summer?”

Loki scoffed. “That camp’s a joke. Trust me, I went there.”

The brunette kid sat forward in his seat a bit to get a better look at Loki, and his eyes widened. Declan blinked at his companion. “Steph?”

“Do you know who that is,” the boy hissed in return.

“Uh---” Declan glanced at him. “No?”

“Dex, that’s Loki Beaulieu,” the kid said emphatically, arms flailing wildly. “He’s a lacrosse legend.”

The blond in front of Loki’s eyes widened. “No shit?”

“Language,” the man sitting in front of the brunette scolded, glancing at the blond. If Loki had to guess, the two of them were brothers.

“No shit,” Loki confirmed, lifting his fingers from his forehead in a mock salute. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Stephen McKiney,” the brunette introduced, before nodding to the kid next to him. “This is my, ah, my--”

“His boyfriend,” his companion finished, rolling his eyes again. Clearly, this was a new thing. “Declan Bristol.”

“Kellan Aldridge,” the last kid said with a grin. He looked over at the boys and blinked. “Is she with you, too?”

“Who?” Stephen glanced around Declan and blinked. “Oh! Yeah, this is Violet, our personal groupie.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll castrate you, McKiney,” Violet warned, not looking up from her magazine.

Loki chuckled. “This is my fiance, Ariel. And the little guy is our son, Auggie. You’re all really going to that camp?”

The three boys shrugged. “’s somethin’ ta do,” Kellan pointed out, and Loki vaguely noted that he had a lisp. It was actually kind of adorable.

“I’m just going to keep them out of jail,” Violet claimed, causing both of the boys on her side to snicker.

Surprising all of them, the boy in the seat in front of Declan, cut in the conversation with, “That’s such bullshit, Blake.”

“Did anyone ask you, Bates,” the girl snapped, before blinking. “Wait, Noah?”

“Don’t talk to me,” the boy muttered, putting earbuds into his ears.

Declan and Stephen groaned. “You, too?”

“You’re not special,” Noah told them bluntly. “Now leave me alo -- ow.” He glared at the girl next to him. “Was that necessary?”

“Noah,” Kellan mumbled. Noah’s eyes snapped to him and he nodded slowly. There were all types of tension between the group of teens and Loki officially wanted no part of it.

“The owner of the plane is on the plane.”

“That’s nice,” Tatum hummed absentmindedly, reaching for his coffee. “Did you offer her anything to drink?”

“Yeah, I gave her a water, a diet Coke, and how do you know it’s a her?”

Tatum just smiled at the flight attendant.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Caleb whispered as realization dawned.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tatum said, just to taunt the younger boy.

“Your secret girlfriend is Marilyn Banks? Isn’t she, like, twelve?”

“She’s two months older than you,” Tatum pointed out. “And you’re not even supposed to be in here. Where’s Holden? It’s time for take off.”

“I’ll get him,” Caleb offered. “But don’t think this is over. We’ll continue this conversation later!”

And just to fuck with him a bit more, Tatum winked at him. “I look forward to it.”

There really was a reason Caleb tried to poison the food every Thanksgiving.

The girl’s name was Clarke. The kid, Noah, had said it all of once in the fifty minutes they’d been sitting next to each other -- only thirty-five of them spent in the air -- but it had stuck.

Clarke.

Clarke.

Clarke.

The name ran on repeat in Sean’s name, and every time he looked at her, or heard her speak or laugh, he could only think that it fit her. When he tried to put other names to her, none of them seemed to work. Not the way Clarke did.

He had to wonder about her relationship with the guy with her. Something told him that they weren’t dating, but Sean wasn’t sure it wasn’t just him getting his hopes up. From what he’d seen so far, their relationship was a teetering balance of control. Clarke would chide him on the things he said, and Noah would say something that felt like a thinly veiled command. It would almost be a perfect, healthy balance, if not for the fact that Clarke almost seemed scared of the boy. Almost. She was too comfortable, too at ease to be scared of him. But there was a certain hesitance in the way she spoke to him, the way she moved around him.

Something was off about him.

And Sean felt the overwhelming need to find out what it was.

Ahem.

Let it be said and understood that Oliver McAlister had always been in perfect control of his emotions. He had a clear mind at all times, and never acted on impulse. Did he do dumb shit? All the time. Growing up, it was all he did. But none of it was ever on impulse. Everything he and Ezra did, it was well thought out stupidity. Ollie was nothing if not perfectly controlled.

Which was really the only reason he hadn’t broken that little prick’s hand when he tried to reach up Effie’s skirt.

“It’s fine,” the stewardess  quickly reassured him, placing her hands on his shoulders. The man dimly noticed that they were attracting attention from the other passengers. His own twin brother had stood from his seat, ready to jump in and fight for him, even if they were over thirty thousand feet in the air. “Ollie, it’s fine. Let him go.”

He really didn’t want to. Every part of him wanted to snap that skinny little wrist, let him cry like the bitch he was, and force Effie to get a new job. One where adolescent pieces of shit weren’t trying to cop a feel, and she was forced to think that it was okay. A bit rougher than strictly necessary, Ollie let the kid’s hand go. “Are you okay,” he asked Effie in a quiet tone. He noticed the other flight attendants standing and watching. The other girl -- Ella, if he remembered correctly -- looked just as murderous as Ollie felt. It was in that moment that Ollie decided he liked her.

“I’m fine,” Effie promised, rubbing her arm in a telling manner. That little crap had made her uncomfortable. “Just sit down, okay?”

“Effie---”

“Ollie,” Ezra called to him. “C’mon, bro.”

The man looked at the girl for a long moment before nodding and stepping away. As he made his way back to his seat, he brushed past a woman with dark skin and long hair. They locked eyes as they passed, but neither of them stopped to speak. Ollie flopped down into his seat with a huff, glaring at the seat ahead of him.

Ezra placed a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder. “Effie okay?”

Ollie shook his head. “She’s not telling me something.”

“Chandler, if you eat anymore, we won’t have any snacks for the rest of the trip.”

“Mari owns the plane, I think we can afford to buy a few snacks -- ow!”

“That’s not the point!”

Marilyn sighed, listening to the couple bicker. They were her two best friends in the entire world; if she was going to go on an adventure with anyone, it would be them. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t regret her decision later.

“Hey, Mari,” Adelaide prompted, shoving her boyfriend away. “You gonna speak to your lover while you’re here?”

Chandler blinked, then looked at her. “Oh, Tate’s flying today? Is that why we’re on this flight?”

Marilyn winked at them. “We’ll see him, eventually. I have a plan.”

At some point in the past two hours, Auggie went from being half-asleep in Loki’s lap to wide awake in Stephen’s. Loki honestly had absolutely no idea how. But his son had instantly taken to the teen and his boyfriend, and almost seemed more inclined to hang out with them than with his own parents.

But the brat hadn’t stopped laughing since he took a seat in Stephen’s lap, so Loki wasn’t too upset about it.

The man watched idly as the teens all spoke across the aisles. Most of the other passengers had ear phones in, so if they were at all irritated by the constant conversation, they didn’t show it. Everything that Noah kid said was blunt and rude, but the others responded to it casually, as if unfazed by it. Even Kellan’s twin sister started contributing to the conversation.

And, what with  the looks she and Noah kept sending each other, it was disgustingly obvious why.

“Hey, Loki,”  the woman in front of him -- Scout, as her brothers kept calling her -- suddenly called, surprising everyone. She hadn’t spoken to him once this entire flight, leading them all to assume that she didn’t know him.

Loki couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips. “Hey, Juliet. I was wondering when you’d say something.”

“Juliet,” the entire group chorused -- including her older brother, who hadn’t said much at all -- in confusion. “Since when do you go by Juliet,” Kellan asked.

“Since when do you call people Juliet,” Ariel snapped.

Juliet laughed, turning to wave at him. “Loki and I have history.”

“She hit me with a rock.”

“You tried to sleep with me.”

“I tried to sleep with your boyfriend, get over yourself.”

“Are you saying you didn’t--”

“Oh, no, we did. But it wasn’t my intention.”

“What the hell ‘re you talkin’ about,” Stephen asked.

Noah looked at him as if he were missing his head. “They fucked. Stephen, that’s what they’re saying. That they fucked.”

“You literally have no filter, kid,” Sean pointed out.

“Noted.”

Loki noticed Ariel’s stiffness, and he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Hey. Who have I been with for the past five years? Who am I with now, with a kid? It’s you, Red. Always has been.”

Ariel stared at him for a moment before her lips kicked into a small smile. “Okay. I love you.”

A tension left both of their shoulders, and Loki smiled back at her. “I love you, too.”

Across the aisle, Violet sighed. “You’re unnecessarily cute, you know that?”

Stephen scoffed. “You’re just pissed ‘cause the guy you wanted that with wasn’t inta ya.”

Violet made an obscene gesture towards the boy.

“He’s an idiot.” Everyone turned to look at Kellan, who was looking back at the girl with a serious look. “Anyone who doesn’t want you must be outta their mind.”

“Hey,” Declan cried.

Violet smiled at the blonde across the way from her. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Kellan responded with a smile and a blush. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

At some point, Clarke and Noah had started arguing. They were fighting under their breath, so quiet that Sean hadn’t heard it at first. But once he tuned into the conversation, he could clearly hear them hissing between themselves.

It reached the point where Clarke unbuckled her seat belt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she decided, standing. She was about to make her way to the bathroom, when Noah grabbed her. Hard. “Ow -- Christ, Noah.” She said it quietly, so as to not alert the other passengers.

But Sean heard. And he was pissed.

“You have two seconds to let her go,” Sean muttered into the young boy’s ear. “Or I’m going to show you exactly what eight years in the Marine Corps taught me.”

“Stay out of this,” Noah snapped, though his grip loosened.

“One.”

“Noah, you’re going to leave a bruise,” Clarke cried a bit louder. Violet shifted behind her, and Kellan looked over. Noah finally let go, and she snatched her wrist to herself. “Noah, go to the bathroom. Now.”

Instead of arguing, like Sean expected him to, the boy just obeyed, storming off in a heated rage. Sean looked back at the young woman, and took her wrist in his hand. “That’s definitely going to bruise,” he muttered, then lifted his hand for a flight attendant. A woman whose name tag read ELLA stopped by and leaned down. “Can I get some ice for her wrist?”

Her eyes cut to the injury and darkened considerably -- even Sean had to shudder; something about this woman was purely dangerous -- and she nodded, a forced smile on her face. “Of course, sir. I’ll be right back with that.”

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” Clarke apologized once Ella had disappeared. “He doesn’t always do that. He just sometimes...” She shrugged.

Sean shook his head. “Don’t ever apologize for someone else hurting you. I’m glad I was here. A man should never put his hands on a woman like that.”

Almost self-deprecatingly, the girl scoffed. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Maybe I can teach you,” Sean suggested before he could stop himself.

Instead of freaking out, however, Clarke only smiled. “Maybe you can.”

“You can’t dodge me forever,” Ollie pointed out, following Effie to the back of the plane. Yes, he had resorted to following her. If she wasn’t going to willingly give him answers, he would annoy them out of her.

“It’s not dodging you if I’m just doing my job,” Effie sang in return.

“It’s definitely still dodging me.” Deciding to take some initiative, Ollie placed his hands on her hips, and made her turn to face him. “What’s wrong? You’ve been tense the entire flight; even before that little prick tried to feel you up!”

Effie crossed her arms over her chest, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he urged. It mattered for a multitude of reasons. “Effie, is someone making you uncomfortable?” The way she flinched was answer enough. “What, did someone threaten you? Do they keep calling you over, or...? Effie, I need you to give me something, here.”

“It’s nothing, Ollie,” she urged, telling away from him. “Please, just go sit down.”

Fine. She wanted to play hard? They would both play hard. “Fuyuko,” he called, putting every once of authority he had into his voice. She turned back to him and her mouth opened at the sight of what was now in his hand: a badge, reading US Air Marshall. “Is someone threatening you?”

Effie swallowed, and avoided his eyes. “Just... this man keeps looking at me strange, and he keeps calling for me. He’s just making me feel uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Do you want me to take care of it?”

Her eyes snapped to him, and they almost bugged out of her head. “No! No, it’s not... it’s nothing.”

“Where is he sitting?”

Effie visibly held back a frustrated sigh, and looked behind her, then back at him. “Row 15, seat C. It’s nothing, please don’t make a scene out of it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, placing a hand on her back. “But it will be taken care of. From now on, just ignore him when he calls, alright? Do you trust me?”

Effie looked into his eyes for a long moment before nodding. “Okay. I trust  you.”

He shouldn’t have been so relieved to hear those words. “Good. Get back out there and I’ll deal with it, okay?”

She nodded and lingered for a moment before slipping past him to get back to work. His eyes followed her back to her work station, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line before pulling out his work phone, and sending a text.

Row 15, Seat C. You close?

It didn’t take very long for him to get a response. Row 15, Seat A.

Ollie almost smiled then. Take care of him.

Of course.

Curious, mildly interested brown eyes slid over to a familiar figure, pale and thin, hunched and closed off. “Is there a reason you’re in such a mood?”

“No,” Caleb grumbled, lacking any sort of reassurance. “Who says I’m in a mood, what makes you think I’m in a mood, why would I be in a mood?”

Ella pretended to think about it for a moment. “Just had a feeling,” she replied with a giggle. Figuring they could waste a few minutes, she poured them both a cup of coffee, proceeding to make his just the way he liked it before handing it to him. “So,” she prompted.

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Caleb raised an eyebrow at her. “Sooo,” he mimicked.

She gave him an unamused look. “Are you going to tell me what has you so ruffled?”

“Ruffled?”

“Caleb.”

“I’m fine, alright? I’m not... ruffled,” he stressed, shrugging. “I’m just not feelin’ it today.”

Ella frowned. “Is this about Asher again?”

Caleb’s head snapped up, and he gave her a disbelieving look. “Why does every mood have to trace back to him?”

“Twins are always more depressed when they’re estranged,” Ella said matter-of-factly. “It’s scientifically proven.”

“By whom?”

Ella threw him a hard look, proceeding to make a new pot of coffee. “If this isn’t about your brother -- who you will talk to when we land -- then what is it?”

Caleb let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her work. “Not about Asher,” he mumbled.

“I got that.” She set the coffee pot down and turned to look at him, worry etched across her face. “What is it about?”

After a moment, he shrugged. “Just met Tate’s girlfriend.”

There was a long moment of silence, the background filled with the chatter from the occupants of the plane. Ella blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s...” He deflated as he let out an exhale. “She’s fabulous.”

Caleb had a history with love. Ella didn’t know the full details, as she had never been callous enough or nosy enough to just ask him. It was always clear that he was distrustful of the emotion, and tried to stray from it, but it affected everyone, at one point or another. As far as Ella knew, there were two people in middle school. A girl with strawberry blonde hair, and a guy with so much money, someone needed to slap him with it. (”Wh --- Caleb, what?”) In the end, Holden told her once, the two of them ended up being together, neither of them ever having any idea how Caleb felt about them.

In high school -- even now, she mused -- it was Holden. Her boyfriend was too naive to realize how he touched those around him. It took no time at all for Caleb and Effie to become irrevocably enamored with the co-pilot. Holden had such a way with people, it was harder to feel platonic around him than otherwise. Ella didn’t think there was anyone, really, who met him and didn’t automatically fall in love with him. For a long time, Ella had been prepared for Holden to choose his best friend. But somehow, for some reason she would never understand, Holden had chosen her. And while she was always grateful that he had, and would never apologize for it, she would never forget the way Caleb’s face fell when they announced it.

Tatum had always been a safe place for the boy. Even though Tatum had been dating this girl for a while now, they all joked around that she wasn’t real. He never gave a name, or an age, or anything. He would vehemently deny that she was only a figment of his imagination, but Ella knew that Caleb had always held onto the hope that he was just making her up to make himself seem less alone. Except, she was real. And Caleb was forced to accept that now.

Ella’s heart broke for him. “Caleb----”

“It doesn’t matter,” he lied, cutting her off before she could offer any false platitudes. “It’s not like we didn’t know he had one. I just wasn’t expecting---”

“Marilyn Banks.”

Caleb froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “...You knew?”

Ella bit her lip, suddenly regretting speaking up. “I met her on accident, once. I went over to his house to drop off hat sweatshirt he let me borrow and sh---”

“You knew?”

Ella couldn’t hep but flinch. Hell had no fury like a Russo scorned. “Caleb, you know I couldn’t tell.”

“No, I didn’t,” he muttered, looking away from her. “I don’t really know anything these days.”

Violet had fallen asleep.

Somewhere between Noah excusing himself to go to the bathroom, and Auggie throwing a temper tantrum, the girl had tipped over until her head rested on Declan’s chest, and she was out cold. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it wasn’t really a problem now. Violet had a penchant for falling asleep in random places, and she had no qualms about resting on Declan or Stephen. She didn’t weigh much of anything, and she wasn’t one of those sleepers who put their hair all in your face or anything, so neither of the boys minded. Declan didn’t care at all. It was pretty normal for him.

Except, now Kellan wouldn’t look their way.

If it were basically anyone else on this earth, Declan probably would’ve been find with it. It was hardly his problem that some kid wouldn’t look his way. But he was actually enjoying the guy’s company. It was rare to find someone who clicked so easily with him and Stephen, and the three of them seemed to just fit. He felt like a piece of a puzzle that no one really knew was incomplete. And it wasn’t even in a romantic way. But Kellan felt like the best friend they could’ve and should’ve had years ago.

At some point, he had started crushing on Vi, and she was totally ruining things.

Declan had half a mind to wake her up and make her fix things. He wasn’t entirely sure what needed fixing, but he knew something needed to be fixed, and it was all her fault. And he totally would’ve woken her up, but she looked adorable, curled up in her seat, head pillowed on his chest. One would think the novelty of this would wear off, given that he was gay, and she had only been doing this for their entire lives. But, no. He still fell a victim to her charm.

The blonde shifted in his seat, just enough to get comfortable without waking his friend. He gently nudged his boyfriend, who looked away from Loki for the first time in, like, an hour. There was some weird hero worship going on there, and Declan seriously needed to talk to his boyfriend about it at some point. Getting attached to strangers on a plane was never a good idea, no matter how famous they were. “’s Kellan mad at us or somethin’?”

Stephen blinked as if he hadn’t noticed -- loser probably hadn’t -- then looked over at Kellan. The other blonde had his headphones on, music on blast, and pointedly looking anywhere that wasn’t at the three of them. Declan was expecting some sort of literate response from his boyfriend. No one gave Stephen a lot of credit, but he was actually pretty sharp when he wanted to be. Clearly, though, he didn’t want to be now, because he, Loki, and Sean all looked at each other and started giggling like the twelve year old girls they were. “He’s jealous,” Stephen giggled.

Declan blinked. “What?”

“He zoned out when you said you two were dating,” Sean explained. In front of Ariel, Kellan’s head bobbed to the music, the boy remaining blissfully unaware of the conversation going on behind him. “He probably thinks you and Violet are together.”

“Or that you’re all in a threesome,” Loki tacked on, bringing on another round of giggles.

“What the fu--” Declan started to wake Violet up, because he was gay, dammit, this shit needed to be sorted out now. Then he looked down at her again, as she maneuvered her head into his lap. And she --- okay, Violet Nicole Prescott never looked even remotely angelic. She was the little demon that sat on your shoulder and urged you to make the worst decisions. She was pure evil, especially as Blake, and there was no mistaking that. But when she slept, she looked marginally less so. She almost sort of looked like she could pretend to be innocent. But she also looked like she slept with poison coated knives in her underwear and would slit the throat of anyone who woke her up. He was actually too afraid to wake her up. He threw his head back, closing his eyes and wondering when the universe starting mocking him so hard. “Oh my god,” he moaned, pulling another round of giggles from the group around him.

The moan, of course, was the only thing Kellan heard. And given the position he and Violet were in ---- hell, yeah.

Declan basically had no idea when his existence became so completely stupid.

“Do you think they’re doing the sex?”

Adelaide had been doing pretty good at ignoring her idiot boyfriend. He said a lot of dumb things, and it was just universally accepted that not even acknowledging him was the best course of action, literally always. She was the captain of the SS Ignore Everything Chandler Says, and was pretty good at it. Until that gem came from his mouth. She was actually forced to open her eyes and look at him. “What?”

Chandler shifted in his seat, glancing back at the curtain separating their cabin from the rest of the flight. “Mars and her beau,” he whispered scandalously. “She’s been gone for a long time.”

Why was she even dating him? “She went to the bathroom,” the blonde reminded him. “Five minutes ago.”

“Yeah.” Chandler honestly sounded so stupid, she had no idea what she saw in him. “Who goes to the bathroom for five minutes?”

She was going to choke him. “Oh my God. Chandler. Oh my God.  Girls who are on their periods go to the bathroom for five minutes. Lots of people---- Did you really just asked that? You go to the bathroom for five minutes. I cannot believe you were allowed to reproduce, don’t ask anymore questions.”

Olivia seemed to agree, the two year old shaking her head at her daddy. When Chandler looked to her, the small girl just turned around in her mommy’s lap, choosing to pretend her father no longer existed.

Adelaide taught her well.

“This is the longest flight I have ever been on,” the boy griped. “I’ve literally never been this bored in my entire life.”

Despite the fact that he’d said the same thing some odd minutes ago, Effie couldn’t help but be amused by it. “I’ve been on longer.”

The boy -- Noah, did he say it was? -- snorted. “No one’s asking you.”

Effie straightened, placing the bags of snacks in his hands. It was a wonder how and why he had been elected to go grab snacks for his abnormally large ragtag group, but she wasn’t going to ask. “I don’t think there are more than forty five minutes,” she provided hopefully. “If you find something quick and easy to do, it’ll go by before you know it.”

And honestly, she needed to learn how to filter her words better because Noah just raised an eyebrow. “That mean I can do you?”

Her mouth fell open and she searched for something to say. That was both an insult and a proposition and she was terrible at replying to both. He looked vaguely amused, but she actually felt pretty offended and moderately uncomfortable. Suddenly, the lack of distance between them made her feel caged in.

“Geez, kid,” someone drawled out in a bored tone. Effie could hear the eye roll in that. “You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face.” The speaker entered the small compartment, and Effie laid eyes on the small young woman. She was just taller than Effie, with dark hair that fell just off her shoulder. She wore a black blazer over a graphic t-shirt, with skinny jeans and ankle boots. She looked equally like one of those HBIC girls and one of those girls that had all of five friends because she pushed everyone away.

She was gorgeous.

Noah shrugged, his creepy air disappearing. It was then that Effie realized it was an act and that he probably wasn’t coming onto her at all. Suddenly, she felt a lot less uncomfortable and a lot more embarrassed. “It was funny to me,” the boy said as if that were the only thing that mattered.

“Well, it wasn’t to her,” the gorgeous woman snapped, flicking Noah on the forehead. She honest to God flicked him on the forehead. “Apologize.”

Noah rubbed his forehead, glaring at her as if he couldn’t believe she had the nerve. “Sorry,” he muttered anyway, glancing over at Effie. The flight attendant could only mumble back her forgiveness, not even remotely sure what was going on around her.

The gorgeous woman looked Effie up and down, and a sly smirked curled her lips. The stewardess idly realized that there was probably something unconventionally dangerous about this girl. “You should be more careful,” she advised, though it almost felt sarcastic. “Pretty girls like you don’t do well when they trust others.”

Effie nodded hastily. “Y-yes. Um, thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it.” She threw a wink at her. “Don’t let this kid push you around just because he thinks he’s funny. Punks like him are about as submissive as they come.”

“Suck my dick,” Noah snapped.

“Let me know when you find it,” the other quipped back easily, sauntering away from them.

Effie looked after her, then looked to Noah. “I... have no idea what just happened.”

“Oh, that’s good,” the boy sighed. “’Cause I don’t either.”

The flight was due to land in ten minutes. Thank. God.

“It’s been a while since Caleb popped in here,” Tatum noted, going for vague and disinterested, and failing miserably.

Holden’s eyes flickered to his older friend and he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back to the sky. “He’s in another mood.”

The older man -- the alpha of the ship, they always joked -- frowned, glancing at him briefly. “Asher?”

The tanned man considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, not this time. He usually gets... despondent when it comes to Asher.”

Tatum’s eyebrows lifted. “Despondent. Nice.”

Holden grinned. “Thanks, bro! But, yeah. It’s more of a sadness when it comes to Asher. Now, it’s like... kind of heartbroken.” The younger boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just going off of what Ella told me.” He awaited a response, only to be met with silence. “Dude?”

Tatum cleared his throat, once again epically failing to look detached from the conversation. “She say anything that might’ve caused it?”

The younger of the two shrugged. “I don’t think she knows, either. You know how Caleb gets. When he’s down, he’s down and he wants to be alone about it. She’d have better luck getting Effie to talk about her crush.”

Tatum’s head whipped to him and he gave him a startled look. “You know about Effie’s crush?”

Holden blinked. “Uh, sure? I mean, I know she has one. She won’t tell me who, but that’s kinda my point. Effie’s so tight lipped about it, but she’d probably talk about that before Caleb came out about whatever’s eating him.” The boy reflected on his words before scrunching his face up in distaste. “There has to be a better way to word that.”

Despite how serious the conversation could’ve been, Tatum still found himself chuckling. “So you have no idea what’s going on?”

“No, but I’m not too worried,” he said sincerely. “I mean, Caleb gets sad a lot. But he’s really strong, you know? If there’s anyone who knows how to brush it off, it’s him. He’ll be back to himself before we take off again.”

That was true, at least. Caleb was always quick to bounce back. Tatum knew it was mostly just so that he didn’t have to talk about what actually had him sad, but he was always up and smiling before anyone could really interrogate him about it.

“Besides,” Holden added after a few minutes of silence. “I think he’ll cheer up once he finds out Cedric’s hooking up with that guy’s twin in the bathroom.”

“Again?”

It took approximately forever, but Auggie had eventually fallen asleep. It wasn’t much help, considering they were landing in less than five minutes, but a break was a break, and Ariel sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

She let out a relieved sigh as her son continued to sleep, body limp against Loki’s chest. Her fiance gently rocked side to side, humming beneath his breath. The man would always deny that he could sing, but when it came to Auggie, he would cave in seconds. It was adorable, and the redhead swore to one day get it on camera.

She idly ran her fingers through Loki’s hair, watching as he continued to chat with the boy across from them. It was precious, how quickly the two of them had connected. Ariel didn’t believe much in fate, but she was almost convinced that the two of them were fated to meet. Loki had so much wisdom to pass down, especially when it came to lacrosse, and he wouldn’t be able to share any of that with Auggie for years. Stephen had so much to learn and so much to say, and his boyfriend could only hear so much of it, so many times. They were good for each other, she noted.

“I think you’re going to miss him,” she muttered to her fiance when he finally reached a break in his conversation with Stephen.

Loki looked at her, and confusion flashed across his face before realization dawned on him. He shrugged. “I don’t even know the twerp.”

Ariel scoffed. “Yeah, right. You might as well adopt him. I think he might actually cry once this flight is over.”

“Have a bit of faith,” Loki snapped, bringing a laugh out of her.

The sad part, she thought as the wheels of the plane finally hit the asphalt, was that she was totally serious.

There was the usual rush to get off of the plane. Sean had instructed his group pretty early on to just stay seated while everyone else moved. None of them were in any hurry to get anywhere -- they had all agreed earlier, that they were only going to Louisiana to get out of Lima -- and it was just less mess if they just waited.

Once the plane was mostly cleared, save for them and a few other stragglers, Sean scooted out of his seat and allowed Clarke and Noah -- now on much more amiable terms -- to get out. Noah moved to talked to Fiona for one last time, and Sean stood next to Clarke, pulling out their bags. “So,” he started, once he’d handed her the small bag she’d brought on with her. “This is it, then.”

Clarke pulled in a large breath, a fake smile stretching across her lips. “Looks like it is. Look, Sean, I---”

From the front of the plane, someone whistled. Loudly. Sean’s eyes snapped up to see a tiny girl standing by the doors, garnering crazed looks from the flight attendants. The only ones who looked bored with her were the two -- three, if you counted the baby -- who came with her. “Since all of you are still on the plane, I’m assuming you don’t really want to be in Louisiana,” she started. The logic was so faulty, Sean had no idea where to begin. “So I have a preposition.”

The blonde girl who Sean assumed came with her sighed. “Mari--”

Mari, whoever she was, ignored him. “I don’t give a damn about Louisiana, neither do my friends, and I’m sure half of you are only trying to get out of the same crappy town we were. So,” she continued, after being met with an agreeable silence. “I think we should just keep flying. Just the, what, sixteen of us? Just us. No one else gets on the plane, and no one gets off unless you really want to.”

“And go where,” Scout asked, because leave it to her to actually feed into this bullshit. Bullshit, which, Sean had to admit, actually didn’t sound so bad.

Mari shrugged. “Who cares? We just drive around for the day. At some point, we stop and get some fuel, and we hit the skies again.”

Clarke shook her head slowly, but not in rejection. ‘Isn’t there another flight after this one?”

“Skip it,” Mari said, as if anything were that easy.

“What? No!” One of the pilots looked two blinks away from outraged. “We could lose our jobs----”

“She owns the plane,” one of the flight attendants -- the pale one that had purposely avoided their section -- said dryly. Everyone looked at him wildly, and he shrugged. “That’s what I said.”

Mari ---- who apparently owned the plane??? ---- grinned smugly. “No one will get fired. This is your last chance to get off the plane. If any of you want to get off, go for it. But if you really have nowhere to be, and you’re up for spending the next few days at a rich girl’s empty mansion, put your seat belt back on.”

Everyone glanced around. The Aldridge family, Loki, Ariel, and Auggie; Clarke and Noah, Stephen, Declan and Violet; twin brothers who looked more than on board; Mari and her crew; a dark skinned girl who’d sat two seats in front of Sean, silent and deadly, and her girlfriend; the flight attendants and the pilots. They all looked to one another and simultaneously started migrating to different seats, no one really caring where they sat or who they sat with.

The boy who came with Mari blinked at her. “I will never know how you work,” he declared before taking a seat in front of Loki.

Mari smirked at him before looking at the older pilot. She tilted her head to the side, a dangerously sweet smile on her face. “Well? Where to, captain?”

The man stared blankly at her before grinning. “Wherever the plane goes, beautiful.”

( t o b e c o n t i n u e d  . )

[landonsmythe]

the only time i’d ever call you mine

It was totally possible that they had taken over Marnie’s house.

It was hardly the first time they had done so. She just had the best house for parties and group dinners. Her dad wasn’t, like, loaded. Not by any means. But he had a huge pool and a patio and a little shed in the backyard that Marnie, Erik and Sterling had named the Doghouse (for reasons far beyond him). And since Marnie had gone with him in the divorce, it was her house as well, and always the first to be chosen for group parties and such. She should’ve been expecting this, really. Except she clearly wasn’t, seeing as, well.

The look on her face at the moment was just this side of absolutely murderous.

“What’re you so mad about, Monkey?” Josiah asked the girl, grinning as he tossed a wet arm around her shoulders. “Were you hiding a guy in your room before we came over or something?”

Marnie seemed to still.

“…Monkey?”

No response.

Summer laughed, “You were not.”

The girl just smiled all too innocently at them, then slipped away from Josiah, heading back into the house. “Marnie,” Sterling called, getting out of the pool. “Mar----- Marina, get back here!”

Next to Landon, Treasure giggled, Summer, Delilah and Jennifer all doing the same from their respective spots in the backyard. The older boy felt a smile tugging at his lips as he raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

Treasure just winked at him. “Not my secret to tell.”

Landon felt an all too familiar wave of protectiveness crash over him and he tried to clamp down on it. It was only natural for him to be protective of his girls. And they had established long ago that they girls weren’t allowed to date outside of the gang unless the person had the explicit approval from all of them.

“Just look at it this way,” his blonde companion spoke again, pulling on her sunglasses. “If she is lying and she’s just trying to rile him, he’ll probably be angry to finally ravage her the way he’s been wanting to for years.”

“And if she isn’t?”

Treasure laughed again. “If she’s not lying, we’re all in for a show.”

In the end, he just chose to believe that the girls were simply trying to rile them up.

The elder boy sighed and laid back on his lawn chair, closing his eyes and basking in the sun. It was the kind of day where it was so hot out, it sapped all of your energy until you couldn’t do anything but lie back and soak in the heat. Donnie had contemplated not coming at all, but it was Reid’s party – well, Summer’s party, but Reid was taking the fall, because he was kind of in love with her, but also a gigantic idiot – and Ronan wanted nothing more than to come. (Landon was pretty damn sure it was because Jennifer Lynn was going to be there, and he had some weird crush on her.)  So, being the big brother and the best friend that he was, Landon had dragged himself out here, in the sweltering heat.

And he was currently melting.

He let out a childish whine. “Treasure, it’s so damn hot! Fan me,” he demanded.

The girl snorted. “In your dreams.”

“I distinctly remember a time when you actually loved me.”

Arms wrapped around Landon’s neck from behind and someone pressed a kiss to his cheek. “If you two are done flirting, there’s food in the kitchen.”

Donnie grinned up at the girl. “Delilah, I love you. Way more than I currently love some monsters around here.”

“Bite me, Smythe.”

“Kinky.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “You two seriously need to just fuck already. The sexual tension is getting ridiculous.”

In perfect sync, the two in question raised an eyebrow, and looked over at Summer, who had jumped on Josiah’s back, forcing him to carry her into the house. Then they mimicked picking up a phone with all too cheerful expressions on their faces. “Hello,” Landon chirped brightly into his faux-phone. “Pot?”

“Yes?”

“It’s kettle.”

“Oh, hey, kettle,” Treasure shrieked into the phone, eliciting an eye roll from the now blushing Delilah.

“Hey! Just calling to tell you that, you know, you’re black.”

Treasure let out a gasp, and Delilah shoved Landon, causing both of her tormentors to laugh. “I hate the boy of you. Starve.” Flipping them off over her shoulder, she turned and stormed away to the sounds of their laughter.

Once everyone was insider, the two finally calmed down. “Do you think they’ll ever actually---?”

“Nah,” Treasure answered, after a moment. “You know those two. They’ll keep teasing each other and dancing around each other until one of them breaks and we literally find them banging on the kitchen table.”

“Or on the counter,” Landon added.

“Maybe by the pool.”

“In a classroom.”

“On the sofa.”

“In the dressing room.”

“By the pier.”

“In the car.”

“So romantic,” Treasure cooed, sending the two of them into another fit of giggles. “At the rate the two of them are going, neither of them are ever going to get laid. Like, ever.”

Landon was almost red in the face with tears at the corner of his eyes from how hard he was laughing. He usually didn’t find joy in the downfalls of his friends’ lives, but sometimes, they just made it so easy. After a moment, the laughter passed and he sobered down, though the smile still remained on his face as he closed his eyes.

“Hey, Beastie?”

Landon let out a vague hm, not bothering to open his eyes. When she didn’t respond, he opened his eyes and looked at her. His eyes were automatically attached to her lips, as she took the bottom one between her teeth in the way she did whenever she was truly thinking out what to say next. There was something unidentifiable in her eyes. Her breaths were slow, but shallow, as if she were holding every breath and stalling time. He wanted to say something, but found himself speechless at the sight of her. The silence seemed fitting, after all. They were the only two outside, and the only sound to fill the air was the cadence of their breathing.

Finally, she spoke. “Do you think we’ll ever…?”

For a second, he got lost in the thought. The thought of his fingers lacing with hers, day after day. The thought of pulling her into his arms, but not under the guise of platonic or familial expression. The thought of kissing her whenever he so pleased, of having the right to growl at anyone who so much as looked at her in a way he didn’t approve of.

He got lost in the thought of pushing her down into a bed. His lips trailing down her skin, biting down, causing her to make that noise that he knew she made whenever she got a massage, or got into the bath after a long day. He got lost in the thought of watching her ride him, her face contorting into the most pleasurable expression as they both----

But it was just a thought. It was no more than fantasy. They never had that, and he knew they never would. He was bad, so bad for her. But she was all he wanted. And all he would never have.

So he snickered, pretending that he only saw it all as a joke. “Nah. I don’t date freshmen.” (She wasn’t a freshman. At the time, she was a junior, but he had been calling her a freshman for two years now and he wouldn’t be stopping any time soon.)

Something unreadable flickered across her face before she broke out into a matching grin. “Like this freshman would ever want you.”

“You know you would,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low growl that neither of them really expected. Once again, she bit her lip and he wondered just how he was making her feel. Something simply primal washed over him in that moment, and he wanted to see just how far she could be pushed. He wanted to be the one biting that lip, he wanted his hands to travel over her body, he wanted it all, but more than anything, he wanted her. He wanted to say, “Yeah. One day, we will.” But he wouldn’t do that, because it would be wrong. She was his best friend’s little sister, and she would stay that way.

No matter how much he wanted more.

“But we would be good together,” he said after a while, his voice soft and somber.

A smile kicked at her lips, but only slightly. “We would, wouldn’t we?”

Donnie nodded slowly, unable to tear his eyes from her. It was pushing one hundred degrees out, and he hadn’t eaten since last night. They both needed to eat and get out of this eat, but he found himself unable to move. Because if he moved, he would ruin this Moment, and he couldn’t do that. This – this was their Moment, and he would make it last.

“Hey, Beastie?”

“Yeah?” It was meaningless to ask. He already knew what was happening next. He saw the way her eyes flickered to his lips, and the way she leaned towards him. He knew what she wanted, and she knew that he wanted it right back.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Definitely not,” he agreed before he closed the distance between them.

There was always a definite difference between expectations and reality. Everyone expected stars and heavens and blessings with everything, and reality was usually a slap in the face. Except – of course – for this. When he imagined their kisses, he always imagined sparks and fireworks, slow, tense moments and flushed cheeks.

It was so different. So much better.

There were no sparks or fireworks. There was no electricity. Unexpectedly, it felt like fire. There was something incredibly warm about the feel of her lips against his, something that had him pressing for more. She had obvious experience; it was different from half of the girls he found himself making out with. There was a certain confidence in the way she kissed him, as if she just knew she could blow his mind. While it was slow, his mind rushed and his heart was beating at a hundred and twenty miles per hour.

When they finally pulled away, her cheeks were only slightly flushed. His eyes met hers and, in a not so surprising revelation, he realized he wanted more. He wanted her, all of her, all the time.

Well. He thought, finally putting words to his feelings. Shit.

“Yo,” Reid called, poking his head out into the backyard. “You two coming in to eat or what?”

Neither of them seemed to have the breath to speak, but he did. “Yeah, we’re comin’,” he called back, never taking his eyes off of her. He heard the door sliding closed as his friend retreated back into the comfort of the Matthers’ residence.

There was a long moment of silence, filled only with shallow breathing before Treasure finally said, “We should go in, now.”

No, he thought. No, we should stay out here. The second they went back inside, this would be forgotten. They would pretend it never happened, and he would pretend that he didn’t feel the way he did. They needed to stay out here and talk this shit out. But they couldn’t do that. When Landon started putting words to his feelings, and actions to his thoughts, things got destroyed.

He couldn’t wreck this. Not this.

Instead of protesting the way he so wanted to, he only let a forced smile slip unto his face. He nodded back towards the house. “Let’s.”

[chandlerreese]

One Plus One... (part three.)

Augustus Stephen Beaulieu is ten years old when he reaches his biggest crisis.

"I'm not seeing the problem," Stephen tells his little brother honestly, as he drives up to the condo he shares with his now fiance. "I mean, it's not like you didn't know this before."

"Yeah, I knew it, but I didn't know."

"Hate to break it to you, Little Man, but that makes no sense."

"Stephen!"

Stephen lets out a laugh as they're getting out of the car. "Alright, buddy," he says as he grabs Augustus' bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Explain this to me one more time."

"Olivia's a girl."

"I noticed. But you did not."

"No!"

Stephen nods as if he understands. "Right. And her being a girl is a problem."

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

"Because girls are gross, babe," Declan points out obviously, as the two brothers enter the house. "You should know more than anyone."

Auggie points to Declan as if to say to Stephen listen to him, he gets it! Of course, he's far too young to understand the double meaning behind that. He knows that his brother is into guys and has been dating one for the better part of ten years, but he doesn't really know what that implies. "What he said! Hi, Declan."

"Hey, Augmeister. You hungry?" Declan glances up at the ten year old when he sits at the island where Declan prepares his meal.

Auggie nods enthusiastically. "Whatcha makin'?"

"Whatcha want?"

"Ham and cheese!"

"Then that's what I'm makin'." Declan grins at Auggie's joyful expression as he gets to making his sandwich. If anything, that's Stephen's favorite thing about his lover. He treats Stephen's little brother like his own. "Now what's this about a girl?"

"Livvie's a girl."

"No."

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

Auggie throws his hands up as if to say, That's what I wanna know! 

"You know what, it's a good thing you came here. You know why? Because your brother? He's clueless. But I know a thing or two about girls." Declan pauses in making the sandwich and leans on the counter. Auggie leans in, too, hanging on every word. "See, guys are a lot like motorcycles. Girls -- and your brother -- are more like sports cars. Th---"

"You know what?" Stephen cuts in, glaring at his fiance. "Auggie, go up to your room, and I'll bring your sandwich up in a minute."

"But, Stephie," Auggie whines, but he's cut off by Stephen's stern look. He visibly deflates. "Fine. Can I at least use your phone to call Luca?"

"No," the couple says immediately. Declan gives him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Augs, but you know the rules. Homework first or you're not allowed to come over for a week."

They watch as the boy dejectedly grabs his backpack, making his way up to the guest room that has been deemed his, grumbling the entire way there. Once he's far enough away, Stephen turns to face his boyfriend, who cringes at the look in his eyes.

From his room, Auggie can hear Stephen yelling. Something about sex and motorcycles. Whatever. He has bigger problems.

Luca tries to give his best friend the benefit of the doubt. Really, he does. Because Auggie is nothing short of adorable, a stark contrast to his own dreams of becoming a fascist dictator (Olivia's words; he still has no idea what that means), and Olivia's utter sauciness, people often assume that Augustus Stephen Beaulieu is unwise.

Luca knows better. (Mainly because Luca knows everything, but also because----) Luca has seen the calculating look in his eyes sometimes, can remember with startling detail those moments when he knew Auggie found the solution to a problem before Olivia, but kept it to himself because Olivia's intellect is everything to her. He remembers those moments when Auggie would say something so wise, so intelligent, that it made him do a double take. But Auggie covered them all with wide grins and long tangents, rambling on about everything and nothing at all.

He hopes beyond hope that now is one of those times. That Auggie is truly a lot smarter than this, but is covering up his brain with something almost worrying. Instead, the blond looks horrifically serious. Luca really should say something, should try to explain this to his best friend, but all that comes out when he tries is: "....What."

Auggie looks like he wants to pull his hair out and, honestly, Luca's feeling the same. "Livvie's a... a  girl."

"You said that," Luca says dryly, still not seeing the severity of the situation. Duh, Olivia's a girl. She always has been. She was a girl when they met, she's been a girl for the past five years, and she's still a girl now. So why the heck is Auggie so (what's a word Olivia would use?) traumatized (scandalized?) by it?

Auggie heaves a sigh, like Luca's the one making outlandish statements, and the future king feels kind of offended. "You'll see."

Yeah. Okay.

Auggie is less than surprised when, two weeks later, his best friend calls him and opens up with, "Oh my God."

Okay, let's get one thing straight here, okay? Olivia maybe a year younger than the boys, but she's no dumber than they are. In fact, she's smarter than they are, as evidenced by the fact that she skipped a grade. She's the reason why they pass all of their tests, the reason their homework gets done, the reason Luca doesn't actually get thrown in jail for some of the dumb ideas he comes up with. Honestly, she's the smartest of their trio, so she has no idea why they think she's an idiot.

As if she doesn't know when she's being avoided.

They aren't even subtle about it. When she approaches them before school, they trip over themselves to run away from her. Then, during class, they sit with Percy Puckerman and Peter De Rosa, leaving Avalon and Susan victim to the overwhelming amount of testosterone in that area. They sit there during lunch, too. Olivia doesn't mind because she eats with Bonnie, who happens to be the best female friend she has. The first day of them doing this is weird but she doesn't care much because boys are weird and she really isn't surprised.

It's after day four of this nonsense that she gets fed up.

She sweet talks her Uncle Sami into letting them use the classroom during recess. He says he can't just give her the classroom, they need a chaperone, and she tells him it's fine as long as it's him. So when all of their classmates run outside for recess, she grabs her boys by the ears and drags them back in. Uncle Sami, leaning against his desk with his arms folded, winces. She ignores him as she drops the two idiots on the ground, sneering at them, "What the hell is your problem?"

"Liv," Uncle Sami sighs. "Language."

"What's your problem," Luca snaps in return, just the way she expected him to, as he rubs his ear. Auggie has tears in his eyes, but Olivia refuses to let herself be swayed. (His parents spoiled him so much, seriously.) "That hurt --- and it's recess, you psycho!"

"Oh, boo hoo," she mocks, her voice sharp as steel and her eyes blazing. "One missed recess isn't going to kill you. All you're going to do is push Leila off the swings again, and make Ronnie clean up your messes. Again."

(Distantly, she hears her Uncle Sami agreeing in the background that wow, he is a fascist dictator, which, thank you!)

Luca lets out what may have been a growl if he were older, and he stands to his feet, marching to stand in her face. They haven't reached puberty, but he's older, so he's taller, leaning over her just a bit. "What do you want, Olivia?"

"Guys..." Auggie starts in that same placating way that he's been using over the past five years. As per usual, he's ignored.

"An honest answer, Luca."

"You want honesty? I'm wondering why I can't have my own recess in peace, without you ruinin' something!"

Olivia scoffs. "Your recess consists of you ruining things, it's not like you're missing much."

"That's not for you to decide!" Luca yells, throwing his arms up.

It's quiet for a really long moment, before Auggie peaks up from behind Luca. "Livvie... is everything okay?

"No," she says automatically, because nothing is okay, obviously. She doesn't want to admit it, but her fire dies a bit and her voice quiets. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Yeah, you dragged us in here by the ears!"

"Okay, wait, Luc ---- time out." Auggie pushes his way between his best friends, his back to Luca. There's minimal distance between the boys; a slight lean forward and they would be pressed stark against each other. Because of the lack of distance that was between the ever arguing pair, there isn't much space between Auggie and Olivia, either. She has to look up a bit just to look into his eyes. It's nothing new with them. Auggie looks down at Olivia with worry. "What's wrong?"

"You tell me!" Olivia explodes, then she reins it back in, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks to the ground, murmuring her next words. "You're the one who's been avoiding me all week..."

It dawns on Auggie then what's happening and, in true Auggie fashion, he rushes to fix it, stumbling over his words. "Wh--- n-no, Livvie, that's --- no, you didn't---"

"Words, Auggie," Luca cuts in, his voice soft, as he can rarely ever use his stern voice with the younger boy.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Livvie," Auggie promises. "It's just..."

She waits a beat, but he doesn't finish the sentence and she loses her patience. "What?"

Her friends shift uncomfortably, matching blushes staining their cheeks. Auggie looks at her through his eyelashes, which shouldn't work seeing as he's older and taller, but that thought gives way when he says -----"You're a girl..."

What

"What?"

Uncle Sami, who she had kind of forgotten about, lets out a strangled noise, and the bell rings, signaling the end of recess.

Olivia comes home, the closest to tears she's ever been, and Chandler idly wonders if Ezra still has that knife set that Effie got him for Christmas (because he asked a lot and Effie is really terrible at saying no, especially to people who look like the love of her life).

When asked what's wrong, the nine year old just stomps to her room, and screams over her shoulders, "I HATE BOYS!" The door to her room slams shut then and Chandler changes his mind. No knives needed. This is good.

Samuel Chang has never once regretted his decision to become a teacher. He loves kids, no matter what age, and he doesn't mind the time away from home. He loves his wife dearly, but she has her own job, so she's gone the same times that he is. It works for both of them, to be out doing something they love, and then end the day with the one that they love.

Sami has always seen the world through a child's eye, which makes his job that much easier. Sure, it's stressful at times, and there are some kids he just can't wait to get out of his class, but overall, they're a good bunch and he loves them.

He knows he shouldn't have favorites, but he can't help but take a special interest in the Smythe-Beaulieu-Reese triangle. They're interesting to watch, in a way that Sami can't really place. They are, he notices, a lot like a certain foursome. The way they move, the way they seem to migrate towards each other, they way they speak, their entire dynamic. Theirs is, obviously, a lot more innocent than Skye's relationship, but he thinks the story will somehow be the same. Needless to say, they have a long way to go until they reach even the beginnings of Prestilskin, but they are mostly the same, nonetheless.

He would have had to be blind to not notice the distance that was being put between the trio in the past week. At first, it was just Auggie staying closer to Luca. Then it was Auggie and Luca staying as far away from Olivia as humanly possible. No doubt Luca's idea. Today, things had reached the boiling point, and Sami had been wondering why the boys had been avoiding her, before it all came to light. Olivia had been justifiably confused, but Sami understood all too well.

While their 'oh this girl is a female' isn't that realization (the one that led to distracting thoughts and vivid dreams and uncomfortable mornings), it is still quite the game changer. Technically, it is Sami's job to make sure his students are happy and learning, and he knows that the three learn better and stay happier when they have each other, and this --- this revelation, this distance -- could serve as a problem. To a whole lot of things.

So, really, it wasn't bad that he had called their parents in.

Sebastian shows up looking exhausted just at the thought of having a parent teacher conference (it doesn't show much, because the man still looks like he's in his twenties, which really isn't fair), and Loki just looks amused because he has this insane idea that his son can do no wrong, which, come to think of it.. isn't wrong.

Anyway.

Sami explains the situation to the men and he watches as their lips tremble with barely contained laughter, and they both have to look away to giggle like high school girls, so they all spend, like, fifteen minutes just laughing over this, before it becomes serious business and when recess ends, the men go and get coffee, agreeing to be back by the end of the day.

When school is over and everyone leaves, Sami watches and winces as Olivia storms past her best friends, not even bothering to give them so much as a glance. It seems to physically hurt Auggie, but Luca keeps his head high, stubbornly pretending that nothing could hurt him. Sami holds the boys after class, promising that their parents are on their way.

Loki and Sebastian show up again not too long after, and the boys practically become puppies, trying to reach their dads. But Sebastian is firm enough to tell them to sit down and just wait a second, okay? The boys glance at each other but nod and take seats.

Sebastian, being the oldest, clears his throat. "Boys, Sami here has informed us that you've been having problems with... Olivia."

"Yeah, she's a raging psychopath," Luca mutters beneath his breath. When he sees the look his father gives him, he tries for a smile as bright and innocent as Auggie's, but it still look dangerous. "In the nicest way possible."

"Mhm," Sebastian hums, unconvinced as ever. "And your problem with her is that she's a girl."

Auggie shrugs. "It's just weird," he caves, not nearly as cool and collected as Luca. The half-Hispanic boy sighs. Auggie continues. "I mean, we're boys and girls are... weird."

Loki tries not to smile at his son's oh so eloquent break down of the situation. "No kidding," he agrees because even at their age, girls are weird. "But girls are still people, Augs, you know that. And you'd be pretty pissed if someone just started avoiding you, right? You wouldn't like it very much, would you, Luca?"

The fearless leader seems to falter. "Guess not," he mumbles.

Sebastian nods. "Exactly. You would be rightfully upset if Olivia just stopped talking to you. And it'd really crush you if Olivia and Auggie stopped talking to you. And Auggie would be upset if you and Olivia stopped talking to him."

Auggie makes a noise just at the thought, and Luca is torn between comforting the boy and telling him to stop making them right! He just shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Probably, yeah."

"So you don't do it to other people," Sami concludes. "It's not a good thing and, honestly, you both know better. You treat people the way you want to be treated, and this definitely isn't how either of you want to be treated. So I'm changing your homework assignment for the night. Instead, you're going to write Olivia a letter, apologizing for your behavior."

The boys nod solemnly, accepting this as fair.

"And, honestly, girls aren't that bad," Loki points out. "The right ones can be pretty cool, and Liv is definitely the right one. Trust me, you're going to thank us for this in the future."

And Sami tries really hard not to smile because at least he isn't the only one who sees it.

Adelaide hums as she fishtails Olivia's hair. She always does, and it's one of those things that Olivia loves a lot more than she can vocalize. She just closes her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of her mother's humming.

"Something on your mind, love bug?" Adelaide asks, finishing up her braid. She wraps her arms around her daughter, pulling her into her lap. "You usually sing along."

Olivia can't deny it because usually she would sing a lot, but today she just doesn't have the energy. She bites her lip and looks up to her mama. "I don't think Auggie and Luca like me anymore."

Adelaide blinks in surprise. "That can't be true! What makes you say that?"

"They avoided me for a whole week, mama. And when I asked them why, they said it's because I'm a girl. Is there something wrong with me, mama? Do they just hate girls?"

Adelaide winces. "Oh, honey. That's not it at all."

"You're both idiots."

Auggie pouts, having never been on the receiving end of Olivia's blatant insults. Luca simply sighs. "Does that mean you forgive us or not?" He asks, tapping his foot impatiently. He tries to pull off nonchalant, but in all honesty, he is a bit nervous. He spent hours on that dumb letter, if she doesn't accept it, he might actually start crying. And that would just be embarrassing for everyone.

Her eyes cut to him, and they lock gazes for a long moment. He can see the fire in her eyes, the one that hasn't died out at all since he met her. He sees the emotions swarming through them, sees the hurt for the first time, before it gets trumped by anger, then something that looks like resignation that gives way to fond exasperation. "What am I going to do with you two?"

Auggie, of course, takes this as a resounding yes. He grins a mile wide and pounces on her. Luca just stands a little straighter, a smug smile on his face because, duh, of course she accepted his apology. "Good. Olivia, you can be my wife again."

Her arms wrapped loosely around Auggie and her face buried in her shoulder, Olivia calls out, "Dork," before holding on tighter to her sweeter best friend. Luca watches, but doesn't join in on the hug.

(This, Sami observes, does look oddly familiar. But it's also so different from the other ones, this is... better. He thinks these three will go farther. They might just be ten, but he knows without a doubt that when they get older, they'll be nothing short of a supernova.)

[chandlerreese]

One Plus One... (part two.)

The day the boys graduate from preschool is the hardest of Livvie's life. Auggie can see that she's barely holding back tears. She holds her head up high, the way that she always has. When Luca teases that she'll miss them, she snaps at him so fast, even Auggie is impressed by it.

Luca sees through it.

After it's announced that the boys will be going to the elementary school just down the road, Auggie thinks he sees Livvie wipe her eyes a bit, but when they go out for dinner with their families, she looks just as bored with them as she always does.

"Preschool's going to be boring without you," she confesses when the three of them are sitting in the back of Stephen and Declan's car. "I don't have any friends. I don't like anybody else."

Auggie doesn't know what to say, so he just grabs her hand.

"Well, duh, you don't like anyone else," Luca says. "We're the bestest."

"That's not even a word."

"And we're your best friends. One day, we're gonna rule the world together, Olivia. You're not allowed to like anyone else. If you did, they'd get in the way. Then we'd have to get rid of them."

Livvie sighs. "You can't get rid of people because you don't like their relationships, Luca."

"Of course I can. I'm gonna be the king-president-emperor. I can do whatever I want. And my first law is that you can't make any better friends than us. You gotta love us the most, because we're the best."

Auggie grins at her. "What he means is that we love you, Livvie, and we'll still be friends after this. And soon, you'll be in elementary school, too! So we'll all be together again!"

"No, Auggie, I meant exactly what I said. If I meant that, I would've said that."

Livvie sighs. "My question is how you two are going to survive a year without me."

"Hey! I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Just like that, things go back to normal. Livvie and Luca continue to argue the entire drive, until Auggie falls asleep with his hand wrapped around Livvie's and his head on Luca's. They fall silent then, and Livvie falls asleep next. Luca stays awake, like a true king, and keeps watch over his partners.

(The two college students in the front pretend not to hear the conversation. When the kids fall asleep, Declan meets his boyfriend's eye, and they can't help but share a smile.)

xox

Olivia's not quite sure what love is, but she thinks she loves Luca and Auggie. She knows that she loves her mama and her daddy, and she loves her 'pack' but what she feels for Luca and Auggie is different.

"Because we're your husbands," Luca says matter-of-factly when she makes the poor decision to share her thoughts with them.

"I'm aware," she replies dryly.

Auggie tapped his chin with his orange crayon. (Olivia can't find a reason for anyone to use an orange crayon, but it's such an Auggie thing to do, she doesn't even question it.) "Well, maybe you don't love us."

Both of his partners give him a look.

Auggie shrugs. "We're only five. What do we know about love anyway?"

"We're geniuses, Auggie," Luca reminds him. "We know everything."

"We're five, Luca. We know nothing."

"Would you shut up, Olivia?"

"Make me."

Auggie starts to giggle and they both turn to look to him. "That's what Mommy says whenever she wants Daddy to kiss her."

Conversation stops there, but Auggie continues to giggle like... well, like a five year old.

Cutie.

xoxo

What Ariel doesn't understand about her son's relationship is... well, all of it. She's all for love, no matter what age, and she's all for polygamy, if that's what works for you, but this? This has her stumped.

She's watched Olivia grow up. The little girl is all snark, and finesse, and sharp edges hidden with pretty bows and ruffled curls. Just having passed her fifth birthday, the little girl is wise far beyond her years, and is an expert observer and just as much the genius that Caleb always thought she would be.

Ariel isn't quite as close to Luca but she knows a bit about him. The boy is different from his family, entirely. He grows up with the belief that he will one day rule the world, and have everyone kneeling at his feet. He may not be the smartest five year old in the entire world, but he has enough fire in him to make up for whatever he lacks in wisdom.

Augustus is nothing like them. He's all wide smiles and bright eyes. He colors with the brightest colors, but makes sure to use every single color in the box by the end of the day. He thinks like a normal kid his age, and is patient and kind and he's nothing like his parents, but Ariel thinks he'll grow up to be better.

The three of them are different in every way possible and Ariel doesn't see how they work out. In every working relationship she's ever known, there's always been one common factor that's kept the two together. With her and Loki, it's more than money, it's the fact that their hearts have been exposed and toyed with, and the only ones who haven't completely destroyed them are each other. With Effie and Ollie, it's the fact that they're both so innocent but so desperate for love, that they just so happened to stumble into the right arms. With every single relationship in the pack, there's something that keeps them together, something that can never be taken away.

She doesn't see that in these kids.

They're three different colors: a dark red, a bright yellow, and a majestic green, or maybe a purple. They're too different, on opposite sides of the color wheel, that she can't see this relationship lasting after preschool.

She doesn't have the heart to tell her son that, though.

xox

One night, they all spend the night at Luca's. It had taken almost nothing to get all of their parents to agree to it. As both of his parents are cops, it's the safest place for them to be, and with so many people in the house, it's easy to keep an eye on the three.

Despite their promises to sleep in sleeping bags or on mats that night, Olivia and Auggie both curl up next to Luca on his bed.

Luca, as king-president-emperor, gets to sleep in the front, as that's where he will always be. So he lies closest to the door, while Auggie sleeps in the middle. Olivia is closest to the wall, almost smushed there, but she doesn't mind.

They stay up well past their bedtime, and they look at the stars that Sebastian and Taylor and Finn put on Luca's ceiling before he was even born, because they wanted him to always be able to look up at the sky, no matter where he is, or what the weather is like.

"You see that star right there?" Luca asks suddenly, pointing upward.

"That doesn't help," Olivia deadpans.

"The brightest one."

"They're all the same shade, Luca, they're stickers."

"Olivia."

"What about it?"

Luca grins. "That's us."

Auggie turns his head to look at his future husband. "But there's three of us, Luca."

"So? We're one team. And we're the biggest and brightest one out there. And we always will be."

Even Olivia has to smile at that one. Auggie grins large and wide. "I think so, too!"

"Cool," Luca whispers, smiling. "We're always gonna be, right?"

"Of course! It's always gonna be us. Right, Livvie?"

"Duh. You two wouldn't know what to do without me."

Auggie, of course, is the first to burst into excited giggles. Then Luca, then Olivia allows herself to laugh, too.

When Meredith peaks in to see if they want ice cream later on, the three of them are fast asleep, all seeming to curl in on each other.

And if she uses her mom's phone to take a picture... well, she's allowed.

xox

Adelaide thinks it's a little weird that her daughter asks for a cell phone for Christmas, until she realizes what it's for.

Olivia isn't a people person. She doesn't want to talk to people in person, let alone over the phone. She doesn't want to spend any unnecessary amount of time with any person that isn't her mother or father, or one of her uncles or aunts. She has a specific amount of time that she's even willing to put up with them, and Adelaide wouldn't want a phone to talk to them.

It's only when Olivia hangs up a single picture that she understands. Olivia isn't sentimental enough to hang up posters or pictures of any kind, not even of her parents. There are pictures in her room, of course. There's a picture of Adelaide and Chandler right on her nightstand. There's a picture of the pack on her TV stand. But her walls, the pastel pink that they are, are empty, save for one picture.

It's a picture from her fifth birthday. She's covered in cake, but instead of being furious like she would be on any other day, she's laughing her butt off. There are two boys basically wrapped around her. One with blonde, wispy hair and a bright smile, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, hugging her as if she'll disappear if he lets go. The other boy, with dark brown (black?) hair, is laughing, too, but he's at Olivia's back, and she's almost being pushed into him, rather than him holding her. The boys are covered in cake, too, but none of them seem to mind. They're all so incredibly joyful in the picture, and for once, Adelaide's little girl seems just as innocent as she actually is.

It's then that Adelaide realizes why she wants a phone. Because there are only two people in the entire world who she would want to talk to; only two people who she could want to talk to at any time of day, no matter her night.

Olivia doesn't get that phone for Christmas, but the boys spend the night the following day, and Adelaide thinks it makes her daughter just as happy.

When she finishes tucking the three sleeping children in bed, she presses a kiss to each of their foreheads and lingers at the door for a moment. She doesn't see how the three of them fit, but they're all so attached to one another, she can't see them without one another.

"Goodnight, Mama," Olivia mutters in her sleep, curling further into Auggie. 

"Goodnight, my love," Adelaide whispers, finally exiting the room.

xox

Luca likes to think that he's a pretty observant person.

Sure, he's only six, but he's pretty smart. His papa said so. Plus, he's spent the past year listening to Olivia ramble on and on about who knows what, so he's learned a few words and he knows the meaning of most of them. Like observant. He knows what that means, and he thinks that he fits the description.

When he met Auggie two years ago, it took him no time at all to see that the boy needed protecting. He was too quick to love and trust, too joyful and open for his own good.

Luca's parents had taught him to be kind and open, but not naive. Augustus was nothing but naivety. It'd be tragic if it weren't so darn cute.

When he first met Olivia, he had judged her wrong. He had expected her to be this puny baby who shrank away and cried whenever someone came against her. For once, Luca was happy to be wrong. Olivia was the strongest, coolest girl he knew and still is. She doesn't even fall for his crap, as she always calls it.

Sometimes, Luca thinks she could one day be stronger than him. But he doesn't really think so, because he's the strongest person ever. His mami told him that.

And his mami is never wrong.