Surprise!! @advisortotheadvisor I’m your Secret Santa 🥳
I absolutely loved your little story of Red taking care of a sick Sabrina. Your language and characterization were so beautiful and I was so soft reading it 🤧 I couldn’t help but bring it to life in a little comic. (Here is the link for those who should definitely check it out!!)
18 redbrina? 🥺
18. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."
Of course Sabrina missed out on the everafter perk of never getting sick. Of cour
saw this on my friend’s Instagram and immediately thought “redbrina prompt?”
this became FAR less about mail and FAR more a direct sequel to three ain't company, even though I TRIED to write sweet love letter tenderness.
1.4k.
~
Sabrina always greets the arrival of the mail with bated breath these days. She’s trying to be normal about it, because nobody knows, exactly, what’s happening. Daphne definitely suspects something. She keeps squinting at Sabrina.
She’s doing it right now, because Veronica just said, “Has anyone gotten the mail yet?” and Sabrina shot straight up out of her chair and said, “I’ll do it.”
Daphne stands, too. “I’ll come with you,” she says.
Sabrina tries to keep her voice level as she says, “It’s just three floors down. I don’t need the company.”
“Don’t you wanna hang out with me?” Daphne says, giving Sabrina a mockery of her true puppy eyes.
Daphne definitely knows something’s up.
“Sure,” Sabrina says. “Come on.” She’ll just have to be sneaky.
There might not even be a letter. Sabrina sent her last letter off to Red less than a week ago. It’s too soon to really expect one.
But there might be.
She and Red have been exchanging letters since the end of summer, when Sabrina had to go back to NYC. Red has a cell phone, but reception is bad in Ferryport Landing, and Granny doesn’t have a computer at home. So this is how they keep in touch.
Daphne knows Sabrina and Red are dating, and Veronica has a suspicion, but Sabrina hasn’t told anyone else. Red might have told Granny and Mr. Canis, Sabrina’s not sure. They’re not keeping it a secret, per se, but, well. Henry has opinions about teenagers who are dating living in the same house. Puck wasn’t allowed to stay over when he and Sabrina were together, and it’ll be the same with Red. Sabrina won’t be allowed to spend her school breaks with Red. They’ll barely get to see each other. And they barely see each other as it is.
And it’s not like they’re having hot sex every time they’re together or anything. They’re taking things slow.
“Waiting on something exciting?” Daphne asks, once they’re in the elevator.
“No?” Sabrina says, as innocent as she can manage. Daphne has gotten a lot better at secrets than she was at age eight, but she’s still prone to blabbing about things that excite her at inconvenient times.
“Sure,” Daphne says. “That’s why you’ve gotten the mail every day for the past month. And why I saw fancy stationery in your backpack.”
The elevator dings open.
“You got me,” Sabrina says. “I’m doing really weird long-distance roleplay as a victorian gentlewoman. Have a pen pal and everything.”
Daphne bounces out of the elevator and swings around, walking backwards as she tells Sabrina, “You can just tell me you’re writing love letters to your girlfriend. I won’t get weird about it.”
“If I were writing letters to Red—” Sabrina starts, pushing past Daphne to get to the letter boxes in the lobby, “—it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“She’s my best friend, and you’re my sister,” Daphne says, watching Sabrina unlock their box. “Of course it’s my business.”
“No,” Sabrina says, keeping her voice level as she reaches for the mail. “What Red and I do or don’t do to keep in touch with each other is our business. If she wanted you to know, she’d tell you.”
“You both think I’m gonna be grossed out by it,” Daphne says. “I know I was… surprised, when you told me. But I’m fine now! I promise! I want to know!”
Between the long narrow bills and the catalogs that nobody subscribed to, there’s a hint of a thick, cream-colored envelope. Sabrina spots it half a second after Daphne does, and before she can bury it in the pages of Basil’s newest issue of National Geographic Kids, Daphne has snatched it up and is dancing out of Sabrina’s reach. She’s outgrown Sabrina recently, and Sabrina can’t get any leverage without dropping all the mail.
“Ooh,” Daphne sing-songs. “Return address from Granny, but sent to you!” She holds it up to her nose, sniffs. “Smells perfumed. Since when does Red wear perfume?”
Red doesn’t wear perfume, but she’s been sticking dried flowers into her letters to Sabrina. Sabrina hasn’t found anything as sweet to send back. She thought about giving Red pigeon feathers, but that seemed kinda gross and weird.
Daphne rips into the letter, tearing through the little sticker Red had used to seal the envelope. Sabrina can’t even see what it was.
“That’s a federal crime,” Sabrina accuses, scanning the lobby for things she can use to get that letter out of Daphne’s hands. “Messing with the mail. It’s a felony.”
Daphne snorts. “You gonna call the cops on me because I read your—” she stops, and her hand goes up to her mouth. The next second her palm is in her mouth, being bitten hard. Around it, Daphne squeals, “zhadizzhocude!!”
Sabrina, correctly interpreting this as ‘that is so cute,’ takes the opportunity to snatch the letter out of Daphne’s hand. It’s folded in thirds, and all that’s visible is the last line:
I love you. And I love you. And I want to find out what that means together.
Love, Red
And yeah, that is pretty cute. Sabrina would like to melt a little bit, because she loves Red so much. She wants to see her. Wants to be close enough to touch, to kiss, to just hear Red’s voice saying those words instead of reading them in her simple script.
“I wasn’t done!” Daphne complains.
Sabrina stuffs the letter down her shirt, safe from Daphne’s grabby hands, which are getting up in Sabrina’s face. She glares at her sister. “It’s my letter.”
“Don’t you want me to be supportive?” Daphne whines.
Sabrina heads back for the elevator. “There’s a difference between supportive and nosey.”
“You don’t talk to me about Red!” Daphne jogs after Sabrina, craning around to try to make eye contact.
“If you keep reading my mail, I’ll never talk to you about her!” Sabrina presses the elevator call button
“Fine, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, now how long have you been writing letters? Has it been since we came back in August? How often do you write each other? What do you talk about? Is it just sweet nothings and sap? Do you talk about me? Does she ask about Basil?”
“I forgive you, you’d better not, pretty much, like once a week usually? We tell each other about our lives. Red’s way better at sweet stuff than I am. Sometimes. And sometimes.”
The elevator arrives.
Sabrina side-eyes her sister. “Satisfied?”
“Nope,” Daphne says, angelic as always.
“Don’t tell Dad,” Sabrina says.
“I won’t.”
Sabrina pulls the letter out of her shirt and, with a sigh at Daphne’s pouting puppy-dog face, hands over the envelope, dried flowers still inside. Then she sets about reading her letter.
It’s very sweet. Red misses her. She’s been thinking about the future (in Sabrina’s last letter, she mentioned college applications). She knows Sabrina has been looking at upstate colleges, and she doesn’t want Sabrina to stay close by if there’s a school she really likes farther away. She’ll miss Sabrina, of course, but they have plenty of time. She doesn’t want Sabrina to feel tied in place because of Red. And then that closing line.
Sabrina loves her so much. She doesn’t know what this soft, kind girl sees in someone as jaded and rough as Sabrina, who never knows how to answer these letters in a way that doesn’t feel too straightforward and brusque. Doesn’t know what to do with any of it other than save the letters in a box under her bed, use the flowers as bookmarks, treat them so, so carefully.
The elevator has arrived. Daphne is holding it open for Sabrina, and she finally notices her sister standing there, arm in the door, a sprig of dried flowers in one hand. They’re little pinkish bells, pressed flat, running all the way down a curved stem.
When Sabrina exits the elevator, Daphne hands her the flowers.
“You really love her, huh?” she says.
“Yeah.” Sabrina pulls the flowers up to her nose. They’re so fragile. And they do smell nice.
“Good,” Daphne says. “I’d say ‘if you hurt her I’ll kill you,’ but you wouldn’t. I can tell.”
Daphne’s right. Sabrina would rather die than hurt Red. Still, she squints at her sister, stopping in front of the door to their apartment. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side here? With the shovel talk?”
Daphne doesn’t say anything, and a long list of hurts sits, unspoken, between them. No, Daphne would be on Red’s side, if they broke up.
“Take care of her,” Daphne says, and unlocks the door.
Holding the flowers between her fingers as gently as she can, Sabrina follows her sister into their apartment.
