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Oct 30, 2022

The Dove and the Agent | Ch. 31

🕊 Story Masterlist | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad 🕊

🔙 Previous Chapter

Chapter CW: Mentions of anxiety/food-alcohol+consumption, jealousy, pining, exes, friends with benefits, Van Gogh,

A/N: Hi! Sorry that it's been so long! As you may have hurt: I published my first NOVEL! (Big thanks to those who told me to unalive myself for publishing it) The Link is in my profile!!

I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and tell me how you like the new cover!

"Do you know that it is very, very necessary for honest people to remain in art? Hardly anyone knows that the secret of beautiful work lies to a great extent in truth and sincere sentiment."

— Vincent Van Gogh

✿ Dove's POV ✿

Today? A total success — I mean, as much as a funeral can be one...

Spencer seemed so happy at the end, even dancing to a song. Not even to mention that he said that I was now his favorite person.

I did not cry because of it, but I definitely wanted to.

I had never been somebody's favorite anything before. I like to think that maybe I would've been Ellie's, but she never understood what I meant with the whole "favorite person" notion of mine... To be fair, I overthink all of it too much anyway.

When the guest had left, and solely the team and I were left at the funeral home, we helped clean up. Afterward, as we actually wanted to go home, Rossi invited us back to his mansion since tomorrow Alex Blake, Aaron Hotchner, and Kate Callahan would be leaving again.

I was a little tired, my batteries drained from all the human interactions, but as I saw how excited Professor Reid seemed, I agreed to it.

It was a lovely, warm evening, so we sat outside in the garden, Penelope and Krystall mixing cocktails for us. I sat next to my Professor, simply listening to the ongoing conversations.

"Here, Kitten," Penelope said, handing me a deep red drink in a sugar-rimmed glass.

"Thanks," I chirped in reply, feeling Spencer eyeing the cocktail. I held it to him, offering him a sip, but he instantly declined, mumbling something about something that red, not seeming healthy.

"So, Dove. You're still in college?" Blake asked me as the previous conversation had died down.

I wasn't exactly excited about having to talk about myself since it wasn't like I had anything interesting to tell, but I nodded, "Yeah. Uhm, I will graduate in July and then directly start my FBI training."

Hotch raised his eyebrows, asking fatherly, "You already got some firearm training?"

Shaking my head, I began fidgeting with my fingers, a little embarrassed, "No. B-But Professor Reid said he'd take me to a shooting range."

As my nervous gaze met Spencer's, he scrunched his nose and grinned at me.

The former BAU Chief nodded, "Okay, the first thing you should learn is not to be afraid of the gun in your hands while also treating it with the uppermost respect. It may be just an inanimate object, but in this job, it is also your partner." While taking a sip from his scotch, he snickered, "Spencer needed years not to get scared by his gun. He even failed his firearms qualification exam in the beginning."

Licking his lips as all laughed, Spencer said, "And now I carry two guns and am an excellent shoot."

Drinking from my cocktail, I was hit with a nice sweetness through and through. It was probably one of those cocktails that hid away just how alcoholic they were—dangerous stuff.

"You like it?" Krystall asked, and I nodded. "It's Pomegranate syrup," Penny explained to the group so everyone having a drink would know.

Leaning over, Spencer whispered into my ear, "Careful, Sweetheart, else you might end up having to spend six months a year in the underworld."

I giggled, looking at him, "Say what you want, but Hades and Persephone had the most unproblematic relationship in all of the Greek pantheon."

He shrugged. "It's not like Zeus made that a difficult task."

Nodding, I giggled, "Yeah, Zeus's a slut." He looked at me, appalled. "Dove." "What? Am I wrong?" I asked, blinking innocently, making him chuckle.

"Who's a slut?" Penelope asked loudly, having parts of our private whispers announced to the whole table.

I quickly shook my head, cheeks starting to become hot as hell. I didn't have the means to explain my unfunny jokes. "Oh, no one. It's nothing."

Tara raised her eyebrows and Emily asked teasingly, "Were we interrupting the fun?"

I quickly shook my head, physically scooting a little away from Spencer while taking a sip from my drink. The awkward silence solely seemed to be noticed by me, but God, the moment was awkward.

Spencer seemed to catch a glimpse of my discomfort, asking Alex quickly, "How's work going?" Turning to me, he explained, "Blake is a professor at Harvard."

"Harvard?" I asked, surprised, feeling my silly little heartstrings being pulled by something I couldn't describe as anything other than melancholia.

The brunette nodded. "Linguistics."

"I always wanted to go to Harvard; they have a great art program," I overshared.

"Can't imagine a smart girl like you didn't get accepted," Aaron said.

I quickly shook my head. "Oh, I did. I actually got accepted by a couple of Ivy League Colleges. I- I just went to Georgetown so I could study with my cousin together."

Ellie. A stinging in my heart, that most certainly had shown in my voice, reminded me so suddenly of her.

Why didn't I think of her lately? What friend was I to just live my life as though my best friend didn't die only a couple of months ago?

Spencer's hand wrapped around my thigh, squeezing it. That guy was reading my mind, I swear.

"You switched majors at Georgetown too," he said, directing the subject into safer waters before I would drown. "Only the final exam was missing to get your title of Master of Fine Arts, right, little bird?"

Kate frowned. "I'm sorry, but how did you go from art to psychology? Not really understandable for me."

"Oh, Uhm, my mom wanted me to change majors because she worried being an Art Major wouldn't get me a real job."

"You know, if you really had all your hours and exams until that, you could ask if you can take the finals with the other students at the end of the semester and get your diploma," Alex informed me.

"Really?" I asked, intrigued and surprised. "Doesn't- Doesn't that mess with my other exams?"

"Only if it's too much for you to learn."

I quickly shook my head, laying one hand on Spencer's and wrapping the other around his wrist.

He chuckled softly as I giggled. "Oh, no. I know that stuff by heart."

"187?" Kate asked. "126," I replied.

"Do you want me to write the dean about it?" my Professor suggested.

I had always wanted to be an artist... Yes, painting and creating art still made me one, but there was something so special to me about having a diploma in the one and only thing I had ever chosen for myself.

My whole life was built on the unsteady ground of academic pressure. My worth was my grades. My hobbies were studying to improve my grades. My mother always discredited my art as a waste of time.

My hobby now academically titling me an artist would prove my mother wrong. It would be something solely for me, something she could never attribute to herself.

This title would be mine.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Spencer smiled. "Sure?"

I nodded. Mom would either don't care or absolutely hate this. She liked to be involved in my academic decisions. "Uh-huh. I want that."

"Look at you, making decisions for yourself," he praised me gently. "Gonna talk to the dean first thing on Monday. Promise."

We smiled at each other, and he squeezed my thigh again. Alex cleared her throat, making us look at her. She took a sip from her beer, smiling at my Professor. "So, Spence, are you seeing somebody at the moment?"

Spencer quickly removed his hand from my thigh, licking his lips which parted into a coy grin. I knew he had no girlfriend, but my wrongly-wired brain still felt anxious about his answer.

He chuckled. "No. No, not at all."

"And you, Dove?" Alex asked.

A very loud laugh escaped me, startling me completely. I quickly shook my head. "Sorry, I- No. No, no chance. I am unfit for any human relationship."

"She's also Franz Kafka," Spencer snickered towards his friend.

"I just relate to that quote," I speedily spoke to my defense.

He nodded teasingly. "Yeah. And you have an awful taste in man. Logan is definitely the blueprint for idiots worldwide."

"Yeah, so? I- Jake's nice, though," I stammered, making him raise his brows. "I was just teasing you a bit, little bird," he said."I didn't know you were still talking to Jake..."

I shrugged, staring down into my drink. I needed to have it sound casual, normal. "I- We're still talking... Kinda. At least once I have the guts to reply to his texts."

Yeah, now that wasn't a dipshit answer at all. I legitimately sounded like a thirteen-year-old.

Penelope looked at me, surprised. "What did he write?" she asked, quickly taking my phone as I held it out to her.

The table became silent, everyone now seeming to be up in my business. Penny cleared her throat dramatically.

"Hey, Dove. Haven't heard from you since our date, and classes switched back to home office. Hope everything is alright. Wanted you to know I had a blast at our date; maybe we could do it again? - J"

I hadn't thought I'd hear from him again, to be honest. I had been awkward and ended up staying with Spencer and the guys, joining their gentleman's night, but apparently, Jake had a blast.

"Aw," Penelope squealed, looking at me. "Why haven't you written back yet?

I shrugged, embarrassed and red-faced.

I mostly didn't write back because I was lost for words. What was I supposed to write? As I'd learned, it takes me ages to build up relationships in a romantic type of way, and I hadn't thought there was a connection between us, even after I'd let him kiss me... So I put it off.

"You want me to tell him off?" Spencer offered promptly.

I shook my head. "N-No," I said, taking my phone back. "I... just need time to figure out what to do."

"If you don't wanna see him again but are too scared to tell him, just let me do it," he insisted.

"I don't know if I don't want to see him again."

My Professor's jaw clenched, and both his eyebrows shot up. "Oh," he said in a suspiciously neutral tone. "Okay."

"It was a nice date," I said.

"You said you two didn't connect." His answer had come so promptly that it threw me off.

"Well, that probably just takes some time. Demisexual and all that, remember?"

"He left you behind at that bar," Spencer frowned, almost disgusted. "Didn't even bother to take you home."

"He left me with you, Derek, Luke, and Matt, because I wanted to stay."

Okay? Was I missing something? Jake was a nice guy, and although at times a little petty, Spencer had no reason to be that upset.

As he shook his head, I asked, "Why don't you like Jake?"

"I don't dislike the boy. I just think someone like you shouldn't date a guy like him," my Professor let out, annoyed.

I furrowed my brows, "Someone like me?"

"A smart, beautiful woman that has options. You could have anyone, so why settle for someone that doesn't sweep you off your feet every second you're together?"

"Yeah, because the guys willing to date me are piling up on my doorstep," I deadpanned.

"Dove," he pressed, making me giggle with a snort.

"No, I'm serious," I insisted with all the sarcasm I had to offer. "It's getting hard opening the door to my apartment. Any more guys, and I'll have to buy a super long ladder and climb in through the window."

"Dove, I am serious." "Well, hi, Serious. I'm Dove."

He looked at me, that one vein on his forehead so much more prominent than usual. "I really don't understand why we're arguing over Jake... It's not like I'm criticizing your relationship with – what's her name? – Max."

"Max is my ex. You can't compare that," he exclaimed, making me answer him just as loudly. "And Jake is a guy that took me on a date ones. See? I told you this conversation is ridiculous."

"I'm just watching out for you, Dove." "Well, don't. I think Jake's a nice guy, and I don't care if I can do better in your opinion."

"Dove," he said as if this talk-ending voice of his had ever made me shut up. "Spencer," I replied, watching the vein on his forehead pulsate.

"Guys?" Kate interrupted us.

We both looked at her and then at the others at the table. Derek looked like he was having a blast. Aaron was pinching the bridge of his nose, still smiling however.

Tara and Emily were snickering something behind their hands; then they applauded us. "Brava," Emily said, lifting her glass in our direction. "Encore," Tara chuckled.

Spencer and I shared a look; both embarrassed over others witnessing our nonsensical bickering.

"We should start charging money for this bit," he sighed, resting a hand on my back and starting to rub circles. "I'm sorry, okay?" he said. "I'm backing off—no more overprotectiveness."

It was annoying but sweet that Spencer was overprotective. I nodded, grinning at him. "It's okay. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I trust your judgment, Sweetheart. When you say he's a good guy, I'll try not to have Penelope stalk his ass."

Derek let out a deeply amused chuckle."Imagine one of us would've overreacted that much when pretty boy had his first little tête-à-tête."

I tilted my head, some of our friends laughed. "Excuse me?"

I was certain I had just misheard that. Spencer wasn't one for flings... Right?

"Everyone has some adventures in their youth. We only know about Reid's because he joined the BAU so young," Aaron said.

I nodded. "So, you know Spencer for quite a long time now?" He smiled. "Since Gideon got him to join the FBI at twenty-two."

Nodding again, I took another sip of my drink. I wasn't a nosey person... No. Not me.

"You wanna hear that story, don't you?" Derek grinned.

My professor answered faster than I could. "No, she doesn't."

The table went mostly silent, ready to let go of the subject unless I'd say something.

"I'd actually like to know," I mumbled.

Spencer groaned. "No, Sweetheart. Don't be nosey."

"I'm not nosey," I answered. "It's just that everybody else seems to know, and I feel left out."

Sighing, Spencer leaned back against his chair, signaling to our friends to tell me the story.

"Okay, so, you know Lila Archer?" Derek asked. I nodded. Who doesn't at this point? "Good. When she starred in this beach-teen TV show, before the Rom-Com with Dean Havans, she had a stalker."

"Yeah, her friend from Julliard. Mom watched Lila's interview with '60 seconds' on the news when I was five or six," I said.

"The BAU was working on that case, and Spencer was her bodyguard," Aaron added.

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I said, smiling, "Okay, yeah, right. Now you're just messing with me. Got it."

I knew jokes like that; my parents made them all the time. It was funny to them telling me lies and having me fall for them. It was like a party trick for them.

"Nah-uh, pretty girl," Derek said.

Penelope handed me her phone. There was an old cover from a gossip magazine.

'A Mystery Man In Lila's Life?' it read. On it: a very, very young Spencer Reid kissing nonother than Lila Archer.

Derek continued the story. "Me and Elle, a former co-worker, caught a very invested paparazzi taking pictures in the bushes when those two were having a little something in Lila's swimming pool."

"The girls in college would have a field trip with this," I said, voice coated in humor. "I mean, Lila Archer? Seriously."

She was so pretty; it actually felt like a kick to the stomach as my brain involuntarily compared me to her.

I held the screen in Spencer's direction, noting a deep blush on his cheeks and how he avoided my eyes. "It was just a kiss," he insisted.

"Uh-uh. Those hickeys said something else, Spence," a woman joked as she stepped out into the garden accompanied by Portia, who'd come home and seemed to have let her in.

The stranger was pretty, around the same age as my friends. Her almond-shaped dark brown eyes gazed teasingly at my Professor, who jumped up and pullied her into a hug.

One after another, my friends left the table, greeting the dark-haired woman. Her arm was still slung around Spencer's waist; his arm was laid over her shoulders.

I got up as well, to be polite, I assumed. A smile was plastered on my face as I joined them.

Why the fuck were they so touchy with each other?

"Dove," my Professor said. "This is Elle Greenway."

Elle. Okay. I had contacted her via mail days prior but never got an answer.

"Hi," I said, holding my hand out to Elle... Purposefully so she would take her hands off Spencer.

Like, seriously, get a room. Just don't get a room, you know?

She shook my hand, smiling. "Hello."

"Dove's one of my students," Spencer told her half-heartedly while walking her to the table and offering her his seat. "I can't believe you are here. It's been two years, minimum."

One of your students... Uh-huh. Spencer, you're missing a few things. I am not only your student. I'm also:

Your colleague.

And your neighbor.

And your friend.

And your fucking favorite person?

I sat down at the table again, not liking that I had to sit next to this woman I didn't know. Emptying my drink, Penelope quickly replaced it with another, winking at me.

"Don't be jealous, Kitten. They're just old friends," she whispered while I watched Elle running her hand through my Professor's curly mane.

"Not jealous," I whispered back, a little insulted, starting to drink my new, more alcoholic beverage.

*****

After two more glasses, it was fair to say that I was tipsy. Elle was nice, one of those bad bitches who didn't take shit from anybody, having completely encaptured Spencer's attention... Making me annoyed.

I wasn't jealous. I was annoyed.

"I totally saved your life," my Professor insisted as they discussed an old case in which a magic trick performed by him had saved the day.

Portia had joined us shortly after Elle, and since then, I sat between her and Penelope.

"Green's not your color. Take a shot," the blonde said, filling mine, her, and Penny's shot glasses with tequila again.

"I look good in green," I informed her, pouring the burning alcohol down my throat and scrunching my nose at the taste.

Rossi had already decided that we were all going to stay the night. Yet, with Alex, Kate, and Aaron here as well, we needed to share the rooms.

I couldn't stop my face from scrunching up as Elle rested her hand on my Professor's thigh. Way too high up on his thigh, actually. Flirting-territory high.

Standing up and grabbing the tequila bottle, Penelope announced, "Okay, Kitten, Portia, let's go upstairs, fill the air mattress, and change into our jammies."

I was going to stay in a room with Penny and Luke. Where Spencer was going to sleep was a mystery to me since he was too busy catching up with his friends, but that wasn't my problem... Just didn't know if I could sleep without my white-noise koala.

Portia pulled me to my feet, and we walked inside. In her bedroom, Penelope and I sat on the bed while the blonde searched through her closet.

She threw short hot pants and a tank top at me. "You think Spencer and this Elle are doing it?" she asked, making me choke on the sip of tequila I had just taken.

"No," I said, irritated. "He- He just came out of a relationship a couple of months ago."

"As far as I know, they're just friends," Penny said, changing into the pajamas from her go-bag she kept in her car.

"They have that energy between them, though," Portia said while I turned my back to them to change into the clothes she'd handed me. Looking me up and down, she added, "That looks hot on you."

In the mirror in the far left corner of Portia's bedroom, I inspected the scratches on my throat. I was a lot of things, but hot wasn't one of them.

We walked into the guest bedroom and let the electronic air pump blow up the mattress while we continued drinking.

"So, you snatched yourself a Luke Alvez," Portia started. "How's it going?"

Squealing happily, Penelope chirped, "Amazing. Like, I knew he's a great man, but now I know know he's a great man."

"Sounds awesome, Penny," I said, having her pet my knee.

"I'm sorry, Kitten. I didn't want to rub it into your face."

"You didn't?" I told her, confused, taking another sip of tequila. "I'm really happy for you and Luke. You're my friends."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," I assured her. "No matter what my situation is, I would never not be happy for you out of envy."

"Okay, then..." Penny said with a dramatic pause. "We're thinking about moving in together."

"Already?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Luke has two dogs, as you know, and my apartment is too small... So now the question is if I move into Luke's house, or we buy a new one."

"That's great. I- I'll help on moving day if you want," I offered. "I hope I'm one day as in love as you two are."

"Can't believe you're single," Portia said. "You are so cute."

I shook my head. "I'm basic at best, and my trauma didn't even make me funny, only weird."

"Don't say shit like that," the blonde scolded me. Penelope agreed. "You are amazing, smart, pretty, and kind."

They passed the bottle between them, and I asked, "Do you really think Spencer and Elle have something going on?"

"So you are into him," Portia said, but I shook my head.

"N-No. I don't really feel things like that. Also, is Spencer, my favorite person, and having any non-platonic feelings for him would ruin that," I explain, blushing.

"What's a favorite person?" Portia asked, making me shrug while thinking of how to explain it without seeming like a crazy person.

"It's like a comfort person, I guess. Somebody who knows that you're broken but still stays. Somebody who makes you feel like you're worth the effort."

The silence between us was broken when Penny said, "Okay. That just killed me." She wiped a non-existent tear from her eye. "Does Reid know how you feel about him?"

I nodded. "I- I don't know if he fully grasps the concept of the title, but he lives up to it as though he does."

"I say that's love," Portia announced. As I shook my head, she added, "That level of feelings is love. Platonic or romantic, doesn't matter."

Taking the last sip from the tequila bottle, I said, "The thing that bugs me about all about Elle is just the same as with Max, JJ, and Lila fucking Archer. They are so pretty and confident and have their shit together. Why is that his type? I'm really starting to get an inferiority complex."

"Two things," Portia said, holding up three fingers but quickly collecting herself. "First, stop comparing yourself to others. No matter how beautiful you think a person is, some will always disagree with you. Secondly, you're scared that Spencer could like anybody more than you."

"Because if he has a girlfriend, he'll stop spending time with me. I bet she wouldn't be the biggest fan of me sleeping in Spencer's bed or him calling me Sweetheart, either..." I said, guilt filling me. "I'm selfish. He deserves to be happy, but it legitimately makes me want to vomit."

"Yeah, it's selfish," Penny agreed. "Thanks," I answered sarcastically. "But Spencer is no better. Why else do you think he doesn't like Jake?"

I shrugged, making Penelope give Portia a quick rundown of who Jake was.

"Oh," Portia laughed at the part where Penelope shared her theory of the migraine Spencer had gotten last week being actually jealousy induced. "He is so jealous. You two are literally matching that one Ariana Grande song."

Both started singing Boyfriend, absolutely motivated and completely off-key.

Wanting to take another sip, I noted the empty bottle. "Not drunk enough for this shit."

"You know what that means," Portia laughed. "Let's go downstairs and get another bottle."

We walked downstairs, about to enter the kitchen, when Penelope stopped us. There were two people inside, talking. One was Elle, and the other person, standing with their back in our direction, was Spencer.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with Max," Elle said.

Spencer sighed. "Well, what can you do? At least we didn't end entirely on bad terms. You're sure you wanna go back to the hotel? You could stay here."

"Why?" Elle asked. "You offering to share a room with me?"

Stepping closer and rubbing her hand over his chest, she said. "It's been a while. Why don't you just come with me, and we spend the night as we would before your relationship?"

Oh. Portia had read the signs right. I swallowed roughly, sharing a look with the two blondes. Maybe we should spy on them.

"Let's go back upstairs," I whispered, tugging on Penny's arm. "Eavesdropping is a shitty thing to do."

Spencer leaned down closer to Elle, and that was when Portia grabbed my hand and dragged me back to mine and Penelope's room.

Fuck. It shouldn't even bother me as much as it did. Spencer was a single man who was allowed to have as many casual flings and fuck buddies as he wanted to. It was none of my business.

Drunk Dove truly was a jealous bitch.

*****

♜ Spencer's POV ♜

"I can't," I told Elle, taking her hands off my chest and holding them in mine.

Of course, never when I was in a relationship, but Elle and I had made it a habit of seeing each other casually whenever she was in town after leaving the FBI.

Now that I was single, it was more than fair for her to assume I would take her up on her offer and fuck her silly to get rid of pent-up tension, but I didn't feel any interest in her anymore.

She was still a friend, and I had been thrilled to see her since she wasn't the most reliable person when it came to keeping in touch, but my body held no desire for her since my heart already lived elsewhere.

"Can I ask why?" she questioned calmly.

"Dove," was all I said.

"Your student?" "She's so much more than just a student," I said, holding back the urge to brag about my little bird.

Elle tilted her head. "I didn't know you two are-" I interrupted her. "We aren't."

A grin spread on her lips. "Spencer Reid, are you in love?"

I nodded, cheeks burning. "Very much so."

"Haven't heard you say that since Maeve," she said. "Too bad I didn't get to talk to her much."

"Dove's shy and today probably very drunk, thanks to Portia and Penelope."

We both chuckled.

"How bout us having some lunch before I leave tomorrow? You could bring her along," Elle suggested as I brought her to the front door, a cab already waiting outside.

"I'll check if she's up for it. Else it'll be just the two of us," I promised her, holding open the door for her.

"Stop talking to me like that, or I'll take you back to the hotel with me," she warned jokingly, hugging me goodbye.

"Back off, woman. I told you I'm devoted to another," I joked back.

I waited until Elle was in the cab, then returned to the kitchen, where Dove and Portia were in the midst of stealing some snacks and alcohol.

"Oh. Hey, ladies," I greeted them, Dove looking at me shortly with a tight-lipped smile.

"Hi," she mumbled, continuing to unpack frozen pizza pockets and putting them on a plate.

Portia looked me up and down with a smile. "Where's Elle?" she asked, something in her voice almost sounding like an allegation.

"Drove back to her hotel," I answered casually.

Portia nodded. "Didn't think she's your type, tbh, but like, good for you."

"We're just friends," I told Rossi's stepdaughter. "Did I do something to upset the two of you?"

Dove elbowed the blonde gently, them exchanging a look, and then she smiled at me. "She's nice... From what I could see, I mean," my little bird rambled. "Didn't really talk to her a lot; she also never answered the mail I sent, but yeah... Nice."

"Glad to hear that, Sweetheart," I answered, hoping she wasn't being passive-aggressive right now. "She actually asked us to have lunch with her tomorrow before she leaves."

"Us?" Portia asked, laughing teasingly while taking the pizza pockets from the microwave. "Don't think Dove's into threesomes."

I watched Dove become pale instantly. "I'm not into sex in general," she informed her new friend, taking the bottle of tequila from her. "Tequila makes you aggressive."

The blonde looked at her. "Tequila makes me woke."

"Nobody using the word 'woke' is actually as aware of things as they believe to be," Dove giggled, taking one of the pizza pockets. "Why don't you go upstairs with the food and the wine?"

Portia nodded, trying to grab the tequila again, but Dove moved it away. "Uh-uh. I'm cutting you off before you end up in a fistfight."

As we were alone, I asked, "Did I do something to make her hate me?"

Doce shook her head, blushing. "W-We might've overheard you and Elle talking earlier."

No. Fuck.

God, please tell me Dove didn't hear me say I'm in love with her.

"Oh, I- uhm... What did you hear?" I stammered.

"Nothing," my little bird smiled.

"You're lying."

"Just to make you feel better," she assured. "We shouldn't have spied on you."

I stepped closer. Did she know?

"You look pale," Dove mumbled, hand reaching out to my cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little tired," I lied.

She quickly withdrew her hand, brushing some of her white-blonde mane behind her ears. "Are you leaving soon?"

I furrowed my brows. "Why should I leave? We were going to stay the night."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay... Guess I just thought you'd leave with Elle because..." Her voice fell silent as she broke eye contact.

"Can you tell me what you overheard?" I asked as it dawned on me that the picture she had of me right now wasn't the best. "From favorite person to favorite person?"

"Just that you and Elle are... You know," Dove said, quickly looking at me. "I- I'm not judging. Elle is very pretty, and you seem to get along well. I just thought you'd take her up on the offer to drive to her hotel together, and yeah, guess I was wrong."

She thought I was having sex with Elle... Which wasn't entirely wrong, but she definitely missed the most crucial part of it all. Herself.

Elle and I? We were in the past.

Now I just needed to convince Dove about it without dropping the "I love you"-bomb on her.

"Elle and I, we-"

She interrupted me, smiling. "You don't have to justify yourself. It's also none of my business who you're hooking up with."

"We're not hooking up," I said. "We did... In the past, but not anymore."

"So you're just friends now?" I nodded, making her tilt her head. "I don't get that. How do you turn that kind of emotions just off?"

"It was just sex, no love," I chuckled.

Dove shrugged, taking a sip of tequila straight from the bottle. "Guess that's the demisexuality for me 'cause I can't separate those two things. Casual sex is so weird to me. I mean, sex in general because but, yeah... You know what I mean."

I nodded. "I know what you mean, Sweetheart."

She shifted her weight to her other side, wobbling.

"How drunk are you?" I asked, making her giggle.

"Pretty drunk," she answered, breaking her pizza pocket and handing me one of the halves.

I took a bite, burning my tongue. "That is so hot," I exclaimed, gulping firey tequila to save my tongue.

"It's fresh out of the microwave. What did you expect?" Dove giggled.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my chest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked quietly.

"Everything."

"Portia asked me what a favorite person is because I mentioned that you're mine, and I had a pretty hard time explaining it..." she started. "Do you know what I mean when I tell you that you're my favorite person?"

I nodded, "I think I do."

Her big blue eyes stared at me. "Can I try to explain it to you anyway? Just to make sure?"

"Of course," I said.

I held the title of favorite person dear to my heart. I was sure to know what she meant, but there was no harm in hearing it come from her heart-shaped lips.

"I'm all ears," I cooed.

"My favorite artist is Vincent Van Gogh," she said.

"Something within me resonates with him ever since I was little. He struggled with his mental health, his parents didn't understand him—even asked him to move out, he was often treated like he was crazy, and he couldn't keep a job although he wanted nothing more than to be needed and do good.

"It already started off wrong when he was born. There were expectations put upon him he just couldn't fulfill. His still grieving parents named him after his older brother, who died at birth the year prior, with whom Vincent even shared a birthday..."

Dove shook her head, wavy white-blond her framing her face. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. What I want to say is: Vincent Van Gogh had a brother named Theodorus—or Theo for short. He actually had five more siblings, but bear with me here," she said gently.

"Although Vincent had a good relationship with all his siblings... his and Theo's was special. Theo was four years younger, but he was sort of taking on the big brother role. He encouraged Vincent to start painting as he wanted to be an artist but didn't dare to, he bought him paint, he financially supported him.

"Theo would say that he was able to sell Vincent's paintings at his job as an art dealer and gave him money, yet what actually happened was that nobody wanted those paintings. So Theo lied and secretly hoarded all the paintings at home because he believed in Vincent and knew that one day the world would appreciate his brother's art as much as he did.

"He was there when Vincent needed to be institutionalized and made sure he was allowed to continue painting in there. He could've just let Vincent rot there as so many did back in the day with mentally ill family members, but he didn't.

"Theo said that loving his brother was hard at times as it felt like Vincent was torn between two different personalities, but his unwavering love for him always stayed strong.

"When Vincent then was on his deathbed, Theo wasted no time traveling to him and sat next to his brother until he died."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dove blinked away some tears. "Shortly after Vincent's death, Theo lost it, having to be institutionalized. He died only six months after this brother, some saying he couldn't handle the loss of Vincent as he was his only friend. It was simply too much. His wife Johanna made sure they could be together in death, burying the brothers side by side in a commune in France.

"Vincent was Theo's favorite person and vice versa. I never loved anybody like that except for Ellie. So, when I tell you that you're my favorite person, I mean that you are the Theo to my Vincent. That I know, I can trust you to be there for me even when I am too broken to be loved."

Dove wiped away her tears; I helped her while blinking away mine. Her explanation was so personal, raw, and vulnerable. I didn't wonder that she struggled to define it to Portia.

I still hadn't thought about how I would go about my feelings toward her. I didn't know if she would ever romantically return them, but I was okay with this.

Pure, unapologetic love.

Her words explained it better than I ever could. Seeing the other's most ugly self and still loving them was special and a deeper form of love than I'd ever experienced.

Dove loved me as her Theo, and would never stop, even if I'd turn into Vincent.

I wiped some tears from my eyes, knowing that I would go through all the hardships my life had given me one hundred times again if this would be where I would end up.

"I love you too, little bird," I promised her. "Always will, as much as you'll need me to."

I respected the wobbly line of platonic love between us, but how platonic was love between soulmates? Was it even to be separated in platonic and romantic love, or was it so much more than any of our simple-minded human words could describe?

Dove smiled at me, stating, "I need a hug."

Within seconds I had pulled her into one. Pressing her face into my chest, she mumbled, "I miss Ellie. Don't know why, but today it hurts again."

I gently rubbed her back. "It's okay. I understand it."

"I know. You always do," she said. "You're my person."

She pulled away from the hug, looking at the cold pizza pocket and the open tequila bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Are you staying with Penny, Luke, and me? We could share the air mattress on the floor," she asked, making me kiss her forehead.

"Of course," I said. "But just be warned that I'm getting too used to us sleeping in the same bed.

She giggled. "Ditto. We're so co-dependent."

"So, does my favorite person come to lunch with me tomorrow?" I asked, making her forehead crease. "You do not have to, Sweetheart."

"Only if you promise I won't see you flirting with Elle," Dove finally said, sounding a little jealous. "That would be so awkward. Don't wanna be the third wheel."

I chuckled, promising her I wouldn't.

How should I even look at another woman if my heart had already arrived, anyway?

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