Somewhere, Part 22
Cassian POV
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a/n: How has it been this long since I've updated? 😅 I've missed these two a ton lately, and I'm excited to finally share their next chapter! I'm also excited because I've been looking forward to the NEXT chapter for quite some time, and the inspiration for that one has been extra high lately 👀👀
If you want to re-read to get a refresher or need to catch up, I put the link below!
Cassian welcomes us back for this update! Hope y'all enjoy!
>> Somewhere masterlist >>fanfic masterlist
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Hanging out with Feyre was long overdue, and despite the exhaustion settling into Cassian’s bones, he was looking forward to it. She always made tea the way he liked it— something they had in common— and after such a long day, he could use a cup to help keep his eyes open until a proper bedtime.
The door was unlocked when he approached the house, and Cassian chuckled at how his brother would no doubt react to that small fact. Nevermind that Feyre did it with Cassian in mind. His overprotective little brother was likely to have a heart attack if he knew she was so flippant with her safety while he was out of town on business. The secret was safe with Cassian, if only to spare Feyre the mild lecture for the millionth time.
“Hey Fey,” he called, wiping his shoes on the small rug.
His keys made a loud clang in the metal bowl on the entryway table, and Cassian scowled at the jarring sound as if he hadn’t been ultimately responsible. His fatigue was making him grouchy.
“Cass!” Feyre came around the corner beaming and wrapped him in a tight hug. She had always been like a baby sister to him, even in the earliest days of her relationship with Rhysand. Something had made sense between them, and Cassian loved her fiercely.
Squeezing her back with equal enthusiasm, Cassian pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled. “Lonely already?” he teased. “Rhysand only left yesterday.”
Feyre scoffed and pulled away, leading him to the small table off the side of the kitchen. Tea was already steaming in a cast iron kettle in the middle and small pastries were stacked nearby. Cassian’s mouth watered at the sight.
“I’ve hardly had time to be lonely,” she mused, and affection dripped from every word. “You know he’s called with every spare moment.”
“I figured as much. This looks great, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Feyre smiled and gestured toward one of the chairs. Cassian complied— mostly because he knew better than to challenge an Archeron in their own home— and leaned forward on his elbows to bend his neck in a stretch.
A cup of tea appeared in his field of vision, and he winked at Feyre in gratitude. She was poised across from him, her attention sliding to the garden through the window, and the sun illuminating her elegant profile. They sipped in silence for a couple of moments, content in each other’s comfortable, steady company.
Cassian was the first to break the silence, a role he served more often than not. “Have you made much progress on the pieces for your next exhibit with Rhysand being out of town?”
“Some. I haven’t hit much of a stride yet, and that’s daunting considering it’s only a couple of months away.”
Feyre wrapped her hands around her mug and rounded her shoulders as if the admission had cost her something. Whatever the case, Cassian didn’t care to see her stressed.
“You’ll get it,” he assured her. “You always do.” A small smile stretched across her face, and his chest felt a little lighter than before. The joke rolled off his tongue before he could think better of it. “Worst case, I’ll model for you.”
That earned an actual laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “should I get desperate.”
“We’ll pray it doesn’t come to that.”
They laughed together before turning their focus back to their tea. Cassian took the opportunity to snack on a small scone, which he was pretty sure was meant for children by the looks of it. He said as much, and Feyre rolled her eyes. It was an expression so like Nesta that longing threatened to choke him.
“What about you?” Feyre asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You said you had something to run by me?”
Damn, he’d forgotten he planted that seed when they made plans earlier in the day. The promotion Helion offered was eating him alive, and he needed a sounding board. While that was still true, he hadn’t been tired down to his bones when he’d originally brought it up.
“Yeah, sort of.” He leaned back in his chair and twisted to rest his elbow over the back. “It’s more that I have some things to work through out loud, and I think you could help with pros and cons.”
Feyre’s brows came together over the rim on her mug. With a nod, she placed her tea atop the table and gave him her full, undivided attention. His chest felt tighter than he’d anticipated, but he’d learned to push through uncertainty many moons ago.
“I got offered a promotion,” he began, each word leaving him through an exhale.
“Why do you say that as if it’s tragic?”
A smirk tugged at the edge of Cassian’s mouth. “It’s not tragic, and if I’m honest, I deserve it.”
“So humble.”
He winked in acknowledgement of Feyre’s ribbing. She wasn’t nearly as cutthroat as Nesta in her banter, but she did well enough if Cassian’s soft spot for her was any indication.
“Helion gave me some time to decide, but I need to get back to him soon. There’s not a position to compare it to, and with Nesta and me trying to work things out, I worry about how much of my time it’ll take up.”
Feyre was quiet for a beat too long, enough for Cassian’s lower back to bead with sweat. Stoicism wasn’t something he typically associated with Feyre, but he didn’t regret his limited experience with it.
“Have you told Nesta about it?”
He took a breath. “Yeah. She was supportive, but things are still new. I don’t know if she would try and sway me either way.”
“True,” Feyre replied, taking another long sip of her tea. “Although, if we’re being fair, Nesta will understand putting yourself first.”
Cassian must have failed at keeping his expression placid with how Feyre’s eyes tracked every angle of his face. “Fey, don’t.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I came here because I thought I wouldn’t have to defend Nesta to you, of all people.”
Silence fell. Hurt flashed over Feyre’s face, her blue eyes round, and Cassian hated himself for hurting her. Defending Nesta wasn’t something he could apologize for, though.
“That’s not what I meant.” Her voice was brittle, soft. “Nesta is practical, and she would understand the value of advancing your career in these early stages of your relationship. She won’t expect you to uproot your routine— your life— simply because you decided to work things out together.”
His eyes eased shut, and he took a measured breath. “I’m sorry.”
Feyre nodded, and the tension seemed to evaporate with the simple gesture. “Not everyone has been receptive, and I can respect you having Nesta’s back. She has too few in her corner as it is.”
Emotion gathered in his throat, and he swallowed against it. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Can I tell you something, just between the two of us for now?”
“Sure. As long as you’re not asking me to lie to Rhys.”
“Nah, not exactly.” Feyre gave him a pointed look, and he raised his hands in placation. “I only ask that you not tell him before I get a chance, but if he suspects anything, I don’t expect you to lie.”
Feyre nodded, but her brow remained furrowed.
“The timing of all this isn’t great, and I don’t know how to talk to Nesta about it,” he admitted. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in minutes. He had greatly underestimated the relief that would come with such a simple admission. “I know where I stand, but I’m trying to let Nesta settle in to all this. With us.”
He paused to assess Feyre’s expression, but she wasn’t giving much away for free. To her credit, Cassian hadn’t exactly spelled things out. He fixed his attention to his palm, using the thumb of his other hand to trace circles around his calluses.
“We talked about what happens if we see this working out long-term. We can’t live thousands of miles apart forever.”
“Well, yeah. Makes sense.”
Cassian cleared his throat. “Nesta isn’t in a place to come back to Velaris, at least not right now. Before Helion talked to me about this job, I’d already told Nesta I would move. To give us a fair shot.”
Feyre’s eyes flared in surprise, but she blinked it away. “And you think it’s too soon.”
“Isn’t it?”
Her laugh was affectionate. “Cass, you and Nesta are already years in the making.”
“Sure, but…” he trailed off, gathering his words. “We agreed to give it time, but I don’t know what she’s comfortable with before deciding to take the next step. What if I turn down the job, and I end up here for at least another year? Or, what if I take it, and I have to quit in three months? I hate the idea of putting anyone in a bind, but Nesta would come first.”
Feyre observed him, her shoulders rounding toward him as if compelled to pull him into a hug. “Cass,” she murmured, “you have to talk to her.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he joked, leaning back in his chair. He felt raw after such a display of vulnerability, and he craved the levity he was known to bring to any situation. “I don’t want the pressure to freak her out.”
“It’s a risk you take. But she’s the only person who is in this with you and whose opinion really matters. If you’re both committed to this, a simple conversation shouldn’t derail everything. If it does, that’s another issue. I’m not saying it’ll be fun, but it’s necessary.”
Cassian groaned, dragging his hands over his stubbled cheeks. “I know that. You’re supposed to lie to me.”
Feyre’s head dropped back as she laughed, and it was so contagious that it managed to drag a chuckle from beneath the weight of Cassian’s ribs.
“You know, as quick as you are to defend Nesta, maybe it’s worth giving her a little more credit yourself,” Feyre said, her tone soft.
The truth of it hit him full force. He spent so much time preparing for war in Nesta’s honor that he failed to see how his own insecurities sold her short. It was hardly fair to assume the worst in her when he expected the opposite from anyone else. It hadn’t been intentional, but the way his hang-ups exerted influence over his assumptions exposed some lingering scar tissue stretched across his ego.
Cassian nodded and focused on his tea. Feyre had given him more than his fair share to think about, including his unresolved issues and how to shield Nesta from the aftermath.
“So, you’re leaving us, then?” The playfulness in her question was the life preserver he’d needed, and he shamelessly accepted the shift in tone.
“As soon as possible,” he said, deadpan. “Can’t wait, really.”
Feyre chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Liar. You’ll miss us the second you leave.”
Cassian responded with a tight, subtle shake of his head and punctuated it with a wink. His impish denial earned another laugh from Feyre, and his heart felt lighter in the way it usually did when he made his loved ones feel at ease.
A beat of silence passed, and then, “You really love her.”
“Yeah?” Cassian asked, barely suppressing a laugh. “What gave it away?”
A scone flew across the table and hit him square in the chest. He caught it just before it landed on the table and ate half in a single bite, staring at Feyre as if he hadn’t deserved her brutality.
“Don’t be cute, Cassian,” Feyre chided. “I don’t know… I stayed conflicted about you two a couple of years ago. I’ve never seen people who brought each other alive like you and Nesta did, but it always seemed to come at a price.”
Cassian nodded, overly invested in assessing the angle of his next bite. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway?
“Part of me wanted to be relieved when you split up, but you were both miserable,” she continued, another punch to the stomach. “After watching the two of you claw your ways back to yourselves over the last couple of years, it was hard to settle into the idea that things would all snap into place now.”
His fingers drummed a mindless rhythm on the table, the quiet thudding sound keeping his pulse in check. “Well, for what it’s worth, nothing has snapped into place.”
Feyre waited until his eyes met hers again to speak, her brows furrowed. “But I thought—”
“Everything is okay,” Cassian amended, maybe too quickly. It was the truth, but something about being under the microscope made him jumpy and a little defensive. “I just meant that it didn’t happen that way. Nesta and I…” he trailed off, trying to find his words in the ether and settling for the lame ones he found first. “We didn’t have a clean break a couple of years back.”
“So, you two have tried getting back together before?”
A huff of wry amusement left him before he could stop it. “I wouldn’t say that.”
At Feyre’s incredulous stare, he elaborated as much as he dared without sharing all the skeletons in his and Nesta’s closet. He hit the high points of their chronic push and pull. Their weakness and loose details of their misdeeds towards other partners in the name of whatever they hoped to resuscitate between them, no matter how little time they could have had.
“Gods,” Feyre muttered, draining the rest of her tea and setting the cup down heavily. “I had no idea.”
“No one did, except Nesta and me. Azriel suspected at times because he knew how much Nesta always got under my skin, but I was a vault on any of the details.”
“I guess it’s no one’s business, really.”
Cassian raised his brows in silent agreement and leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms one at a time across his chest to relieve some of the tension between his shoulder blades. That familiar pressure was building again, the one that seeped into Cassian’s bones and compelled him to redirect the conversation to less turbulent territory. If not for himself, to bring a smile and an ease back to his sister-in-law, who really had no reason to carry the burden of his past.
“Maybe keep your day job, Fey,” he teased, hoping his impulse didn’t interfere with his mark. “I don’t think your powers of deduction are going to pay the bills.”
She laughed, long and loud, and pride filled his chest to bursting. Feyre was still his ally, it would seem, and the future felt a fraction less daunting with her in their corner.
His tone shifted, suddenly thick with emotion that was a surprise to him as much as Feyre. “I’ve loved Nesta since the night we spent in that cabin. Years ago, now,” he rasped. Feyre’s eyes softened, and she reached across the table for his hand. He let her take it. “Nothing’s been the same since.”
The confession gutted him and eased a tension he’d been carrying for far too long in equal measure. Cassian wondered how he’d managed to keep it all contained to that point, but the realization hit him that he hadn’t. Not really.
Anyone who knew him well knew something chaotic and unyielding had always brewed beneath the surface of his self-control— that most of his conscious effort went toward burning off the constant unsteadiness in his veins. All to avoid a host of bad decisions along the path of shameless self-destruction. The way he carried the weight of his family members’ happiness on his shoulders, the energy he brought to his job and making himself indispensable. Making decisions for others, especially ones that protected them, had never been a challenge for Cassian, as he loved nothing more than to take care of anyone who needed it. The challenge had always been in making decisions that served him when it all came down to it, and he’d never been able to do that without the threat of impact to someone else. Not even that had been enough to keep him away from Nesta over the years, no matter the fallout.
Amren had been right when she’d finally laid it all out, but he would take that small fact to the damned grave. Cruel and unusual torture wouldn’t be enough to risk her smugness for the following millennium.
Feyre ended the prolonged silence, shattering the fragile bits of his impromptu soul search. It was probably for the best, he decided.
“It makes sense, you know,” she said, her voice hushed. “No one loves like you do, Cassian.” A lump formed in his throat, and he offered her a nod in thanks. He didn’t trust the emotions that would come spilling out if he deigned to open his mouth. “And I don’t think anyone feels quite like Nesta, either.”
All good things, he thought, if the individuals in question were healthy and settled. A disaster, if they weren’t. The path his thoughts had taken only moments before indicated that he was a long way from perfect, but Cassian realized with such a small revelation that he and Nesta weren’t damned to everything they’d been through before. Not when they’d both done the work on themselves, albeit incomplete. The game changer was in the choice, and the commitment to that growth and each other.
A weight heavier than he’d thought himself capable of carrying for so many years eased from his shoulders. Not everything, of course, but sometimes, all it took was a moment that offered a little bit of hope.
—
To Feyre’s credit, Nesta had been entirely receptive to Cassian’s perceived dilemma. He’d decided to rip off the proverbial bandaid that very evening, and if he was thankful for anything, it was the fact that he’d opted to untangle his thoughts with his sister-in-law before he’d made the potential mistake of word-vomiting all over Nesta.
He had carefully laid out his pros and cons of taking the promotion— making sure to include the items pertaining to life overall, as well as the implications for their future. Nesta was patient and had pointed out several additional considerations he’d yet to think of, and as it turned out, the two of them made a pretty solid team when they got out of their own way enough to work together through life’s hurdles.
For all her assistance in building both cases, Nesta’s stance on the matter had been straight forward and rather simple if Cassian allowed himself to acknowledge it.
“The thing is,” she’d said, “you need to do what makes the most sense for you right now. Not the Cassian 6 months from now, the Cassian a year from now, or Cassian from yesterday.”
It had been a particularly sobering realization, since Cassian’s usual method involved trying to control for every possible angle, but Nesta had gotten them straight to the heart of the matter. A former version of himself itched to take her position personally, to assume that her bluntness was some kind of directly proportional measure of how little she cared to have him closer. Still a work in progress, but Cassian was pleased that silencing that maladaptive voice in his head got easier every time he did it, and life was offering him plenty of practice.
His commitment to self-advocacy had paid off in his meeting with Helion, and he’d come away with several accommodations that he wasn’t sure they would have agreed to make. Now, days later, he dragged his heavy, sleep-deprived body up the stairs to his apartment— the only way he’d made peace with skipping his workout that day— after another long day at the office. Somehow, he was juggling his usual duties while trying to learn the new ones. His replacement couldn’t start soon enough.
The door shut heavily in his already-dark entryway, his keys landing on the small table near the door by sheer muscle memory. Cassian leaned against the shut door and eased his eyes closed, but his phone vibrated rudely almost immediately. With a groan, he shoved his hand into his pocket and hauled his phone into view. The shift in his mood at seeing Nesta’s name nearly gave him whiplash.
“Hey, Sweetheart.”
He flipped the light switch, muttering a soft curse at the sudden brightness. The assault on his vision was worth it to hear the low, melodic chuckle that came shortly after.
“Hey,” she said, her smile still evident. “Long day?”
Another groan. A rough, calloused hand over the stubble on his cheek. “Yep. Anymore of this, and my brain is going to melt.”
“That feels dramatic.”
Cassian huffed a laugh, tucking his phone against his shoulder and working the buttons on his shirt. “Doesn’t make it less true. Why are you awake?”
The time difference made their nighttime phone calls a luxury. Cassian worried all the time that Nesta didn’t rest enough, but the balance was a delicate one with voicing that concern.
“Missed you,” she said simply, as if it didn’t still rock Cassian to hear Nesta admit such intimacy. “I got in late tonight anyway because I had dinner with Claire. And I made the mistake of picking up my book once I got home.”
“You should set a timer.”
Nesta scoffed. “That’s not how it works.”
He understood the way Nesta lost herself in whatever she read, had witnessed it countless times. Hours passed sometimes before Nesta’s head would lift, her eyes bleary, and she would start the task of re-orienting to the present.
“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, smiling at how he knew she would bristle. “How was dinner?”
She took a long, deep breath. “It was good. We were overdue for a catch-up.”
Cassian paused to throw his shirt into the laundry basket and traded his pants for some athletic shorts. With little grace, he threw himself onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow.
“How’s she doing?” he asked, propping on an elbow.
“Good.” Her response was almost too swift, but it felt haunted all the same. “Really good.”
“That’s good.” Cassian cringed. Usually, if the word “good” entered a conversation any number of times in rapid succession, things were quite the opposite. His response felt awkward and uninspired, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. His intuition with Nesta was solid usually, but distance complicated even the things that came most naturally. A lesson he continued to learn.
“She mentioned a promotion.” Nesta sounded detached from the information she shared, and Cassian offered her the time to work through it without comment. “She deserves it. She’s wanted it for a long time and has been passed over several times now. I’m happy for her.”
Cassian considered his words, his mouth opening and slamming shut a couple of times before he landed on, “Why don’t you sound happy?”
“I am,” she insisted, her voice adamant. “I really am… I just…” Cassian let her words linger, afraid that if he made any sudden moves that Nesta may refrain from elaborating. “Some days it feels like I’ve been stuck in place for months while the rest of the world kept moving all around me.”
A grimace pulled at the edges of his mouth. Nesta had done so much work to heal over the months, and while Cassian knew she was moving mountains in their own right, he understood where she was coming from. He and Claire— two people close to Nesta whose lives hadn’t been immeasurably disrupted by recent events — were moving forward in their goals, and Nesta still consistently mentioned how she felt like she would be trying to catch up from her time off in perpetuity.
“I’m sorry, Nes,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” A forced casualness floated along her words, and he hated them for the mask they were. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and then, “Nothing is set in stone as of now, but it would mean a relocation for Claire. And honestly, I’m not ready to face that yet… the possibility of being here alone all over again.”
Cassian nearly choked on a curse. The thought of Nesta feeling like it was her alone against the world made his chest ache with the need to pull her against him. To press a kiss to her temple and remind her who she was— that, despite being perfectly capable on her own to handle anything life threw her way, she was never fighting alone as long as Cassian was alive.
“I wish there was something I could do.”
Nesta allowed herself a soft laugh, and Cassian’s breath came a little easier, albeit not much. “I know you would if you could.”
“In a heartbeat,” he assured her. “Look, I know the timing isn’t great, but I don’t know— maybe we can talk about our timeline again. Maybe move it up.”
“Cass, absolutely not.” Her tone left no room for discussion, and Cassian felt his eyebrow quirk up as if he’d been challenged. Before he could argue in spite of her silent warning, Nesta’s voice softened. “Not that I don’t want you here. I appreciate that you would, but I won’t be that person that you feel the need to swoop in and save. I’ll be okay.”
His eyes eased shut. How was he supposed to argue with that?
“I know you will.”
An almost-comfortable silence fell over them for a few minutes until Cassian realized that part of their conversation was effectively over. Searching for lighter territory, he cleared his throat.
“Three more sleeps until I see you.”
Her laugh was the reward he’d wanted. Anything to know he’d put a smile on her face. “Most people countdown in days.”
“Mm,” he replied, seemingly unimpressed, but his smile came through anyway. “I’m not most people.”
“Isn’t that the truth?”
“I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”
Nesta was quiet, and Cassian pictured the way her teeth sank into her lower lip when she fought a smile. Then, because he felt indulgent, he thought of the way he would trace her mouth with his thumb, how her eyes went round when he tipped her chin up.
“No,” she almost whispered. “It’s a good thing.”
Rolling over to his back, he ran a hand through his wild hair and groaned at his mental to-do list.
“Shit. I still need to pack.”
“I have some of your stuff here,” she reminded him. “A toothbrush, shampoo, body wash. All you need is clothes and shoes.”
“That helps. Still have to do my laundry first.”
Nesta hummed her understanding. “Well, if our schedules line up, I’ll keep you busy while you wait for the machine to finish.”
The lazy drawl of his words was courtesy of the many images her promise inspired. “I like the way your brain works, Sweetheart.”
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