I never thought I'd actually finish this project anytime soon, so I kept it mostly under wraps for a long, long time.
And I cannot believe I'm finally able to say this but!!
My very own interactive fanfic!!
The characters in the game right now are: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Lilia and Floyd.
The reader is gender neutral.
Each character has 12 obtainable endings — 6 romantic and 6 platonic endings! (A total of 108 Endings!)
You get to choose if you want a romantic or platonic end!
5+ scenes for each character with some having hidden triggers to get to them!
Each route is about 12k-17k words. (A total of 144,155 words!!)
The endings depend on the choices you make!
A very few of my mutuals and friends knew what I was upto, and I'm extremely thankful for their presence!!!
Especially @charredcipher who helped me test everything thoroughly. I genuinely owe them my life, and he's the reason I was able to fix and polish this so quickly!!
no this is not me saying i'm deactivating or anything like that, hold your horses. i do have some things to say tho.
a lot of people have been deactivating recently, especially due to anon hate and disrespect of boundaries (i still miss you java) and i think that its really, really not that hard to scroll away or block people's who content you don't like.
MINORS STAY AWAY FROM MDNI ACCOUNTS. there are so many other spaces for you online, and a lot of fanfic pages that will welcome you (like mine). STAY AWAY FROM PEOPLE WHO DO NOT WANT YOU TO INTERACT WITH THEM.
also, like, don't be racist? racism in the big '25 is crazy work. no form of hate will ever be tolerated on my page, just so we're clear. oh and free palestine, trans rights are human rights, and i'm insanely pro gun control. in case you weren't clear.
to my moots: there are some incredible people on this app who i'm mutuals with but we've literally never interacted. i would love to talk to you, get to know who you are not just as a writer. i care about the people behind your accounts too. we have the oppurtunity here to build a really powerful community, but i feel like katzblr is kind of spread out and a lot of us are too anxious to talk to each other. get in my askbox (or my dms if you're over 18), or my comments, or literally anything.
to my followers, my beloved raindrops. i care so much about every single one of you. genuinely. the past two months of my life have been filled with so much of your love and support, thank you so much for everything you've done for me.
If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…
Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.
Including (sigh) the em dash.
There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.
A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.
No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.
You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.
Defend the em dash.
(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)
✶⋆.˚ Daniela had broken up with you completely out of the blue. That left a lot of loose ends on your part, and turns out, a lot on Daniela’s side too. Especially when two of you just keep finding memories of each other in your new relationships. Only then do you realize, no one else can truly compare.
Pairing: Idol!Daniela Avanzini x Nonidol!Reader
Word Count + Genre: 10.6k, Angst, 2 POVs
A/N: my daniela fic debut!! This was heavily inspired by the sienna edits bunnies+eyecons made of newjeans+katseye and this is like… my baby so y’all better like it or I’ll go depressed. Also shoutout to my one and only ki (@modanisgf) for helping me come up with this idea <33
Content Warnings: This is not a real portrayal of any of the individuals mentioned in this fic. All events are completely fictional and are only intended for entertainment purposes. Swearing, PR relationship, Rebounds, Kinda very irresponsible behavior, Lara is emotional support, The katseye bfs are mentioned, Jorlando???
Even when Daniela’s mouth shut, the words continued to ring in your ears. You didn’t dare to continue looking at the girl who was supposed to be your girlfriend as she told you how she needed to focus on her career. How suddenly, all the years you spent waiting for her during her Dream Academy days managed to crumble into nothing, sliding through your fingers like dry sand. How all her promises of forever no longer sounded like promises at all. Just empty words that used to bring you comfort as you wrapped the cold sheets tighter around you during one of the many nights where she didn’t come home as promised.
You’d forget her. That’s what you told yourself as she walked out your apartment door, leaving the second copy of keys on the counter. A copy you gave her, over your own parents.
Only when the door clicked closed did it finally register in your mind.
This was the end of an era. A good one.
You made it your mission to move on. Prove that you didn’t need the latina to be okay, but god is it hard trying to forget someone like Daniela Avanzini. So hard when she is everywhere you go. Billboards, TV, social media. Somehow, even in your new girlfriend.
1. She watches like you
“Stop looking at me like that,” you chuckle as your hands work away, washing a bowl in the sink.
Your girlfriend laughed as her gaze continued to flicker between two spots on your face. She asked innocently as if she couldn’t understand what you were saying, “like what?”
Like you’re Daniela Avanzini, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t admit the fact to her, to the world, to anyone. By saying the words out loud the truth would become too real. The truth that no one could ever fill the space the latina had left behind. Instead you just shoot your girlfriend a weird smile, a movement that’s something between a chuckle and a frown which flickers over your features, “just the stupid thing where you look at my lips and then my eyes. It’s like you wanna do something.”
“What if I do?”
You don’t answer. A faux smile grazing over your face as you go back to washing the now neglected bowl. You watch as the dish sits awkwardly in the sink while it overflowed with tap water.
Luckily, your new girlfriend knew better than to push about the reasoning why. You didn’t talk about what came before her. You didn’t discuss who had come before her. You just couldn’t. It was better this way. It had to be.
Anything had to be better than Daniela Avanzini.
-
You can still recall the way Daniela used to look at you. The way her eyes would trace over your features like she was trying to memorize them even before she had originally asked you out back in high school. The way they lingered like she knew the word “we” she spoke so fondly about could never last forever.
You still remembered the first time she looked at you like you put the stars in her sky.
The two of you were paired up for a chemistry lab. You told her to hand you some purified water. She looked at you with those eyes, like half her soul wasn’t actually there. Like she was floating over somewhere better than a random chemistry classroom where you had to clip pennies and use five types of glassware for one measurement. How they fogged over in the way Hollywood actresses would try to make them seem when they were filming a confession scene. Yet, this was real. There was no screen between your faces. You recall the sound of her breath hitching immediately after as her eyes locked onto your face. Her pupils latched onto your lips like it was exactly where they were meant to be before she seemed to snap back into reality and hid her blush underneath her hands. Something foreign blabbering out of her mouth as she practically malfunctioned in front of you.
You remember the way you laughed at her oddly pieced together sentence. Something stupid along the lines of “want water type where?” How something free had burst out of your throat, bouncing off the classroom walls as everyone in the room turned to look at you in confusion and minor judgement. Daniela just sank slowly into her seat as if begging the world to swallow her whole.
From then on, you could find her gaze anywhere. She had a routine with how she’d do it. It was so simple, yet the way she did so always escaped you. It had always felt like a complicated algebraic sequence, but now that she’s gone? You feel that you can finally place a finger on it. Her eyes would start by darting to your lips, linger, then shoot to your eyes like that could hide how her pupils always zeroed in on your mouth first.
You liked it. It was her confession of love before the thought of it even crossed her mind.
That was all the way back in high school.
Now? You just wished that day in the chemistry lab, Daniela went straight to the work bench to go grab a beaker of purified water as soon as the ask left your mouth.
It would have saved you a lot of heartbreak.
It would have prevented the best portion of your life from happening too.
2. Borrows my clothes just like you
“Babe!” your girlfriend calls out.
The pet name almost soothes the dull ache in your soul. Almost, until she followed the word with an ask, “can I borrow one of your shirts?”
“Daniela always asked that,” you thought. Still, it was just a shirt, wasn't it? You just shouted back “sure” in response.
As your girlfriend walked out of the washroom with your shirt on, your heart immediately dropped into your stomach. Of course Daniela and her had the same taste. Of course they did. Maybe that was your karma for dating someone so similar to the latina.
Yet, you hid any remnants of your frayed nerves behind a weak smile that hung from your lips like an oversized garbage bag. “It looks good on you,” you say without any real conviction behind the words.
She doesn’t press. She just stops, watches you for a second, does a small nod and continues on with her day like her request didn’t just set all the progress you thought you made back three steps.
It’s just a shirt. That’s what you tell yourself. Just a stupid plain white tee you bought from Old Navy years ago. A stupid plain white tee that smells just like Daniela.
Something twists in your chest. A hope that if your new girlfriend keeps borrowing the same t-shirt and enough time passes, maybe Daniela’s perfume will finally fade into someone else’s scent. You think that as if that reality would finally make some of the ache in your chest go away.
It wouldn’t.
-
The first time Daniela asked to borrow that white t-shirt was by mistake. She had promised to stay over in your apartment before she went away for the filming of Dream Academy.
Then came audition tapes, dance performances, friend hangouts with people that weren’t really her friends. Life got busy. Too busy to organize the thing she had promised you.
It was the night before she had to go that you heard her banging on your apartment door. You opened it like second nature. Daniela walked in with nothing but her phone and laid down on the couch beside the divot you had made from moments before. The two of you watched The Princess Diaries, like the whole entire series before deciding to call it a night. You recall how you said Dream Academy wouldn’t change anything with you. Daniela prayed that it’d be that way.
But the thing was, it wasn’t you that changed. It was her.
That night she begged to stay until the morning, muttering that it was her last wish before she left. How could you be cruel enough to offer her anything else but a yes as long as you got to see her wide grin again. She asked to rummage your closet for some clothes to sleep in. You obviously agreed. If you knew how it’d all go down, you would have picked out her pjs for her instead.
But that wasn’t what happened, was it?
Daniela walked out in your plain white tee. It dangled off her shoulders as the collar was already loose from years of use. Her fingers played with the frayed edges of the fabric. The wear and tear didn’t bother you. Old Navy wasn’t making clothes that were supposed to last centuries anyways, but the sight in front of you was like one out of a fever dream. What one imagines when they picture spending forever with someone.
You would never have forever. At least not with Daniela Avanzini.
By the morning she was hurrying out of your apartment. Jumbled words about schedules, flights, suitcase. She asked to keep the shirt, you said “go get your own dummy” like it was funny. It’s not funny now. Not anymore. Now it just feels dumb.
You should have known better. You should have handed her the shirt without a second of doubt. You would have, if you knew the same girl that came back wasn’t your Daniela anymore. It was a more refined version of her. Clear cut at the edges which used to be blurred just for you.
You should have known better. She should have too.
But both of you didn’t. So you didn’t hand her your shirt, and she didn’t ask for it again. She just laughed and said she’d get her own.
Maybe if that wasn’t the case, you wouldn’t wonder when you cuddled close to your new girlfriend, if the smell you were inhaling was hers or Daniela’s. You wouldn’t have to wonder if the shirt was the reason you finally felt at home again. Not the person.
Your home had always laid with Daniela Avanzini.
Now it just laid wherever that plain tee went.
3. She pouts just like you
“Come on,” your new girlfriend pouts. “Just one more episode!” she whines attempting to have you watch another hour of Gilmore Girls with her. She almost looked adorable, like a precious thing you wanted to protect. Her chin dug into the blanket that was balled into her chest. Her cheeks puffed up like she was cosplaying a chipmunk.
As your mouth opens, the first word that flies over your brain is Daniela. It was as if in that second, the girl in front of you was no longer your girlfriend, but the latina who used to pride herself on that title of looking like a furry creature. Before the name almost leaves your lips, you make a weird choked out sound in order to bite it back. The head of the girl in front of you tilts back up as silence engulfs the room. The noise is defending. You wished the ground could open up and just swallow you whole.
She doesn’t say anything more. She knows better than to.
You almost want to tell her that she has no right to be so similar to Daniela Avanzini. No right to when you couldn’t get the latina out of your mind, no matter how much time passed or how hard you tried to forget her. How hard you tried to push down the part of you that still yearned to be the only person to call her name in the way that never failed to make her eyes flutter.
It wasn’t fair.
Not to your new girl. Not to you. You hope it doesn’t feel fair to Daniela Avanzini either.
-
The first time you made Daniela pout like that was when you joked that you wouldn’t pick her up from dance practice.
You can still remember the cool autumn air flowing through your hair as you stood in the parking lot behind Daniela’s dance studio. The way Daniela walked out of the building with this drag in her step. The way her eyes lit up upon noticing you leaned against your car, arms crossed, waiting for her when you just texted her 10 minutes before to say you couldn’t make it. It was like in an instant, the annoyance in her temper vanished as she walked over with a fond smile that seemed so right on her features.
Daniela practically threw her dance bag on you as she laughed, “you suck for pranking me like that. I genuinely thought I had to uber home!”
You just smiled in return, a small chuckle leaving your lips as you threw her bag in the trunk, “oh lighten up, Avanzini!”
Once both of you were inside the car, Daniela immediately pressed into the seat. Her arms folded into her chest as her chin practically embedded itself into her chest. A frown on her lips as she refused to look at you. It made something inside you twist.
“Babe… I was just joking,” you say, turning to look at her, your eyes softening at her action.
Daniela grumbled something unrecognizable before you linked your fingers in hers, though you have no idea how you managed to wedge your hand between her arms in order to hook your pinky to hers.
“Dani… I’ll always show up. You know I will,” you murmur trying to soothe her frayed nerves.
“Yea, I know,” Daniela mutters back as she uncrosses her arms. “Promise me, won’t ya?” she asks with this hopeful glint in her eyes.
You never had the talent to deny the latina what she wanted, so you just responded with a fond smile, “of course.”
A light laugh shot out of Daniela’s throat, “good. You’re stuck with me.”
That was the first and last time you ever saw Daniela genuinely mean the pout on her face again. You made sure of it. You picked her up from every practice no matter the weather, the length of the drive, your own schedule, even if the two of you just had a fight. You still showed. It became the natural way of things. You wanted nothing more than for that to have been forever. Yet, the world had other plans.
You can still recall the first Monday after the break up. Monday afternoons Daniela always had a slot booked at the studio. No matter if it was Daniela in high school, or after debut. It was routine. You remember picking up the car keys 30 minutes before she would have left the studio. The alarm on your phone and notification from your online calendar reminding you of the event. Then, you stopped in your steps as your hand touched the handle of your front door.
The two of you weren’t together anymore.
It wasn’t your duty to keep that pout off of her face anymore.
That was the first real time Daniela called an uber, or maybe that time Jonah picked her up instead.
It’s not like you would have known either way.
4. She dances like you
It wasn’t your fault your new girlfriend happened to be a dancer too. You were never informed of that fact when the two of you first got together, but now? God, you wish you would have known. If you did? Perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting in the same studio Daniela used to practice in watching a girl that wasn’t her dance in the mirror.
Kicks, jumps, turns. You watched as your girlfriend twirled around the studio like she was built for the art. Daniela was born to do this form of art first.
There was something mesmerizing in the way her shoes squeaked against the studio floor, the way her arms flew into the air, the way she went down into the splits. She laughed as she fell out of her turns. Far from the frustrated sighs that usually accompanied Daniela’s perfectionistic tendencies. Russians, jetes, piques. The art seemed to slowly come back to her like second nature. She performed fouetté after fouetté though moments prior she was telling you not to judge because she was so called, rusty. She didn’t seem rusty. Not to you.
Or maybe she just said that so you’d feel less of a need to compare her with Daniela.
Nonetheless, you were still comparing whether you wanted to or not.
You just couldn’t help it.
Daniela was still everywhere.
In every pointed foot, arched back, heavy breath and bright smile.
-
Daniela didn’t invite you to her dance sessions often. There was always some excuse of being too busy or how the practices are always boring. The real reason was the way it felt embarrassing to make a mistake in her choreography in front of you. You deserved nothing but perfection. That’s what Daniela told herself.
As you walk in, you hear the click of her heels against the wooden floor. You hear the way they stop when the door clicks shut behind you.
“What are you doing here?” Daniela asks quickly, spinning around and shutting the music off like your presence burned her.
“I just wanted to drop your water bottle off… You left it in the car, Dani” you say, setting the item down on the studio floor. The clunk was almost deafening as your girlfriend stared at you like she had just seen a ghost.
Her fingers tangle with each other as she visibly shifts her weight from side to side. It was nothing like the usual confidence she had in the studio. You never knew why your presence always seemed to set her off every time.
You hum, trying to act oblivious to her obvious discomfort as you ask, “can I stay and watch?”
Daniela’s lips press together in a thin line. Her forehead furrows into wrinkles. “I mean… sure?” she says with this hesitance in her tone. A weird flicker of guilt washing over her features as she presses against her phone until the music returns on full blast over the speakers. Her feet shift into position like second nature.
You slide down against the mirrored wall before your bottom finally touches the floor. Curling your knees into your chest, you watch.
It was as if the music took over her body. Her previous reluctance disappeared within seconds as the bass boomed in the studio. You swear the vinyl covered floors begin to rattle from the volume as Daniela’s heels dig into the ground like daggers to a wooden target while her hips sway to the beat. The shirt hanging over her shoulders sliding down to reveal her pristine skin hiding underneath. Her feet glided across the ground like friction couldn’t oppose her. Her jumps proved to you that she was gravity’s singular exception. Her kicks reminded you that some are born with flexibility while others, like you, weren’t blessed with that gift.
Her curls caught on her eyelashes while her gaze laid unwavering on the figure in front of her. Her own reflection in the mirror.
It was mesmerizing. That was the only way you could ever describe the experience. You were mesmerized and hypnotized by her every time she danced. The way the music was at her command and her limbs moved in complete perfection.
It was clear.
Daniela Avanzini was always a star, and stars are meant to be shared.
But how could anyone do that when the world seemed to fall at her fingertips?
How could anyone do that when the world yearned to be loved by someone like Daniela Avanzini?
5. Enjoys the same music like you
“We should make a couples playlist,” your new girlfriend suggests out of the blue from the couch.
You feel yourself freeze at the thought. A couples playlist? How bad could it be. It’s not like it would be anything close to Daniela’s music taste.
God. You were so wrong.
Sitting down next to her on the sofa, you peer over her shoulder as you watch her add music to a shared Spotify playlist.
It didn’t take long for you to notice the similarities.
Her fingers tapped into the search bar. Playboy Carti.
That was Daniela’s favorite artist.
Flicking over to his songs. “ALL RED” was the first one added to the list.
That was Daniela’s favorite song.
Your girl smiled as she tapped play. “Have you listened to this one before? It’s genuinely so good!” she practically exclaims as her mouth bursts into an innocent grin.
Something in your chests twists at her words. You nod. “No,” your lie runs off your tongue like silk, “never heard it before.”
You don’t tell her the way the beat screams Daniela. The way the lyrics feel like mantras of the latina’s words in your ear. The way you can imagine the way the girl’s head would bop to the song.
You just listen.
Suddenly, it feels like the wound of your break up never closed at all.
Maybe, you were exactly where you had started.
Your heart in Daniela Avanzini’s hand.
-
Music was always close to Daniela’s soul. With that, it only made sense that she enjoyed keeping her musical preferences private. The act itself felt like opening up her heart to someone for the taking.
You still recall the first time Daniela Avanzini finally shared her music with you.
It was a cold winter morning. One of those days where you had a scarf tucked under your jacket to prevent the chill from seeping into your bones, and your nose was red from the constant breeze. The two of you were on the metro from her house to some cafe. The latina ranted on and on about the way the place had the best croissants ever and that it was a must try. That she wanted, no, needed to bring you there. You just laughed along, too focused on the way your breath was visible even in the train car.
If you could do it all again, you would have ignored the sting radiating from your frozen ears and turned to face her. Paying too much attention to the way her lips moved and how her curls froze up from the cold. Maybe you would have pulled your hands from your pockets, stuck them with hers in her jacket pocket instead so you could hold her hand despite the cold.
The more you think about it. The more you would have done differently. The more the moments seem to cast a weight on the organ beating relentlessly under your ribs.
Maybe Daniela noticed the way the cold bothered you that day. She pulled out her phone, plugged some headphones in, and gave you one.
You didn’t think much about it.
Headphone in one ear, you watched Daniela scroll through her Spotify playlists almost anxiously.
Tyler the Creator, Billie Eilish, Doja Cat.
Then she settled on Playboy Carti.
You recall the way her finger tips, frozen from the cold, stilled as she scrolled past his profile. How the hesitation sent her brows furrowing. Then, she pressed her screen like the action took a toll on her soul. Scrolling through, she stopped on the song “ALL RED”.
The music filled your ears as you nodded along to the rhythm. Daniela spent all of her time using her eyes to search your face for speckles of judgement.
“What do you like about it?” you asked innocently, unaware of the nerves eating away at her.
Daniela hummed as she set the phone down, screen faced away and into her lap. “Good question,” she said into the air, giving too much thought to a throwaway comment. Breaths of condensation lingered in front of her face before it dispersed when a man walked by.
“I think I just like the energy of it”
A grin makes its way up to your face. Daniela had always been an enigma. “It makes you feel alive?” you ask back with a hum.
“Something stupid along those lines,” Daniela laughed. Her eyes flickering down to the phone on her lap.
The two of you spent the rest of the ride listening to her music.
Then, the two of you spent every metro ride after that listening to her music.
Nowadays, you just wish Daniela didn’t muster up the courage back then to do so.
It would’ve made her disappear faster.
6. This almost feels just like you
It had been a tough day, but that was just most days now. You’d wake up, suffer as your alarm rang until your eardrums bled, go through the motions, get back home and wonder where all the time went. Things went numb after Daniela Avanzini. That was the disheartening truth.
That was until you met your current girlfriend.
She’d make you dinner, hand you mugs of freshly steeped tea, bring you on dates even after a long day of work. She had the ability to make everything lighter again. Lighter than how it used to be with Daniela.
Still, the heart wants what it wants.
That’s what led you here, laying in bed with a frown on your face and your limbs melting off your joints. Your muscles ached with this dull pain which spread from head to toe. Your eyelids were droopy, the kind where it felt like you hadn’t properly rested in ages. Your head spun in the way where you swore one thing gone wrong could set your mood off to the deep end.
These were the days you longed for Daniela Avanzini again. The days where you pulled the stupid stuffed dog out of the bottom of your closet and pinned it under your arms. The days where you stared at it for hours on end looking at how the sad beige began to fade in patches. The days where if you closed your eyes and breathed in, the perfume that still lingered on the plushie worming its way into your nerves and reorganizing the rhythm of your heartbeat.
This was a routine you did often.
Maybe it was how the scent managed to ease your soul no cup of tea can, or the way it set your mind free no sporadic grocery store trip could induce. The experience felt hypnotic. It made sense.
Daniela Avanzini always made sense.
You can still clearly recall the latina. The bounce in her step as she ran across the room when you came home. How her hair felt when you guided your fingers through her carefully clumped curls. The way she always stole your stuffed dog to the point you started to call it hers.
You would have the plushie on a random counter in your shared bedroom. On a shelf or carefully placed on the bed between the two pillows. It was like clockwork. Once the clock hands struck 10pm, Daniela Avanzini would grab the plushie the way a hawk locks onto its prey. Then she would scram under the covers and tuck it carefully under her chin with a feigned pout as she waited for you to come over.
You always gave the same expression.
An exasperated sigh would exit your mouth though the corners of your lips were permanently tugged up to your eye sockets. You would tuck yourself under the covers beside her, rest your head on her shoulder, and ask the same exact question.
“What’s a pretty girl like Daniela Avanzini thinking so hard about today?”
Daniela would laugh, puff her cheeks out like it was a competition. You would lightly nudge her with your shoulder as you tried to grab the stuffed toy from under her chin while she yelped. There was this one time where you stole the plushie away from the warmth of her body, brought the toy under your chin, then coughed like a sickly child from how poignant the smell of her perfume was. You remember how the latina laughed. Hard. Said something about spraying pumps of her perfume on it because it was basically hers now. You gave her an offended stare before muttering under your breath that she basically claimed it.
That smell still lingers even when Daniela cleared out all of her belongings from your shared apartment. Every article of clothing, skinscare, hair product. You half expected her to take the stuffed toy too.
She didn’t.
Sometimes you wonder if she did so because she knew if she kept it, it’d remind her too much of you.
Today was one of the days where you breathed in the smell of her perfume which radiated from the toy under your chin as you absentmindedly hummed a tune that you had locked away in the back of your brain for months. That was when your new girlfriend dropped by. She tucked herself under the covers the way you used to. She leaned her head on your shoulder. She usually would ask you about what you were doing.
Today she asked something different.
“Can I hold it?” she hums out.
Your heart stutters. Not from the proximity of her body or the way her nose bumped into your skin. It was from the way her perfume stuck to her clothes and inched towards the stuffed animal. An ugly sound sneaked past your throat.
“It’s dirty,” you murmur, grabbing the stuffed toy from under your chin and throwing it on the ground beside the bed.
Your heart clenches as the plushie lands on the dirty ground with a thud.
It was a bad excuse.
You can tell by the way your new girl's lips press into a thin line as they dance around the idea of asking why.
You're lucky she drops it. At least for today.
You don’t have the heart to tell her you can’t stand the idea of the stuffed dog smelling like anything but the way Daniela’s lips used to brush over your knuckles, or the stupid way she laughed when someone else called her out on her shenanigans.
You let the silence speak for you.
A part of you still longed for Daniela Avanzini.
It’s not your fault your new girl was just like her.
“I can’t do this anymore”
Daniela still remembers the way the words awkwardly fell out of her lips when she said them that fateful night. The way your face dropped as fast as her heart did. The way your eyes glistened under the pale moon light because moments before you refused to close the curtains so the two of you could watch the stars together. Daniela crushed all those dreams under the palm of her hands with just five words.
It was over.
Daniela Avanzini wasn’t known to step out of line. She was a rule follower. That’s what made her a star. That's the reason when the company told her she was losing focus, she said she’d remove all distractions. Distractions like you.
You weren’t in the industry. That meant you were supposed to be easy to forget. That was what Daniela told herself as she walked out of your apartment, letting the keys click against the kitchen counter as the door slammed behind her, echoing goodbye.
It was supposed to start a new era. A better one.
Nonetheless, couldn’t stardom numb all pain?
But somehow, even letting go of someone that was always invisible ached. It burrowed itself a home in the cavity of her chest, It pierced her heart every time it beat for anything but you. Dance, music, love, fame. Daniela grew to understand she was wrong. It was hard to forget a celebrity, but it was harder to forget you. So hard when a nameless feeling struck her every time she came across anything your presence had ever touched. A sticky note, the plane smell you always complained about, and of course, the new boyfriend the company got her to make the pain less visible to the public eye.
1. Wish he was home just like you
Daniela didn’t enjoy PR relationships, but there wasn’t much she could complain about when her new partner was relatively perfect. Correction, he was perfect. Just a little too perfect that everything he did merely reminded her of you.
It had been a long day. Interviewers rapped out questions like their paycheck was measured on how many syllables they could speak out in one sentence and her bandmates were frazzled as they tried to avoid all avenues of possible controversy.
Daniela’s job was simple.
She just needed to make the PR relationship with Jonah seem real.
That was supposed to be easy.
“Favorite thing about your relationship?”
“He’s a good listener.”
“Whats your favorite thing to do together?”
“Probably movie nights.”
“Favorite thing about him?”
“I’d say personality. He’s funny.”
That was until the interviewer spoke out the last question.
“Where’s home? People say home becomes a person when they're in love. Is Jonah home to you?”
Daniela saw the way her manager nodded behind the camera for her to agree yes. The frantic head bobbing made her heart drop.
She was supposed to lie. God, she knew that. Pull up a smile as she exclaimed to the world that Jonah was everything to her. That he made her at home and feel complete again. He was her other half.
She couldn’t do that knowing you could be at the other end of the screen watching.
She couldn’t do that when she snapped at Jonah to drop it every time he asked himself.
You always made her go against her better judgement.
“I don’t believe in home being a person,” Daniela smiles. The lie slips off her tongue like skillfully aged wine. “I think home is just a place for me. A place where all of my loved ones are together,” she continues.
“A place like where?” the interviewer pushes.
Your apartment.
The latina cracks a laugh, but the edge is sharp, nothing like how it’s supposed to sound when talking about him. “Probably my house in Atlanta. I know, basic,” she says, letting out a self deprecating laugh at the thought of anything she said being true.
The interviewer laughed along like her pain was funny. Her manager watched with her lips tugged down at the answer.
God, she was going to be in so much trouble when the cameras stopped rolling, but how could she lie?
Daniela wanted to rewind time and take everything back. Every time she told you to stop asking the stupid question because she genuinely believed home was still a physical location back then. See if she could stop the deafening silence that echoed in your apartment at her irritated words. Try and stop the way your brows furrowed when that was the only answer you received. Say the words back when you told her your home was wherever she went.
Only when she lost it did she come to understand.
Daniela Avanzini’s home has always lived in you.
And she chose to burn her forever home down to ashes.
-
“Where’s home?”
You loved to ask that question to the latina. Daniela remembers the way your eyes creased as you turned around on the couch to look at her while the words flowed from your mouth. Again and again and again you’d ask, “where’s home to you, Daniela Avanzini?”
She loved the way her name flowed from your tongue. It feels precious now that she looks back on it. However, back when she still had the pleasure of hearing it glide through your teeth all the time, the only thing that rose on her face was a scowl as she told you to stop being so cheesy to her. As always, she only ever had one answer to your favorite question.
“I swear to god stop asking that question it’s so dumb,” Daniela would shoot back.
It was like a game of tug of war, you always pushed back. “Just tell me Dani,” pouting at her words.
Usually the latina complied with a chuckle and you’d drop it.
Daniela swears you most already know.
Her home lied in you though she would never admit it out loud.
But that night before she walked out the door was different.
Daniela that fateful night scoffed, “Jesus christ like my home is in stupid Atlanta or something?” The words bit into the apartment air as the world seemed to sit still at the hitch of your breath. Daniela grumbled in return, “having home be in a person is stupid.”
You seemed to curl into yourself, trying to make yourself seem smaller as you sunk into the couch. The words were quiet as you whisper, almost like you were scared of Daniela hearing them, “oh… my home is in you though…”
Daniela felt her heart swell at your words.
You were her home too, though the words still caught in her throat.
Daniela wished to return to then, let you curl into her instead of the couch as she muttered sweet promises into your ear. My home is you, she’d chant.
She lost that privilege when she left.
All she can do now is lie to the world as they beg her to answer the question she used to refuse from you. Lie as they urge her to say the answer you yearned for her to say, but now to Jonah instead.
Now, Daniela knew.
Home was in you. Home is still in you. Home will always stay in you.
2. Wish he'd react just like you
Daniela Avanzini didn’t want to make the relationship go public. God, that was the last thing she wanted, but what’s a player to the game?
She can still feel the cool breeze in the meeting room, the buzzing lights stung her eyes and the chair she sat in was just a bit too low, almost intentional, for her to sit in comfortably. The way management walked over and posed the question, “will you complete a soft launch for the PR relationship?” Daniela didn’t need to answer. Her words had already been written in stone. Yes, of course.
The second the photos of Jonah and her together drop, fans are clamoring over the news. Videos show up analyzing hand placement, people speculate on where they met, comments seem to be never ending.
The PR relationship seemed to just make the weight on her heart worse.
You probably saw it. Daniela knew, gosh you must hate her now if you didn’t hate her before.
Still, that was supposed to be the least of her concerns. The least of her concerns when within days the hate begins to pour in like a tidal wave.
“No one wants her so she has to go for the white boy”
“The reason why the group has been going downhill”
“No wonder someone's distracted from promotions”
“Unstanning rn”
“Okay so like what happened to being my wife??”
“Ungrateful celebrities nowadays”
The latina sat by her phone for hours. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled until her eyes drooped and her head felt like jelly. Tears burned her eyes as wondered how she deserved this. How was any of this fair? She swears this must be karma coming to end her. Karma for breaking your heart so easily like it didn’t even hurt, walking out of your apartment like it was easy. Nothing was easy without you.
The pain just hadn’t set in back then.
Daniela wanted to believe Jonah could be like you. Sweet on the inside when she got to know him well enough. He tried. That’s what hurt the most. Jonah would bring her flowers, watch movies with her, let her borrow his clothes. The relationship almost felt real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be real when his hands always hovered above her waist in photos instead of pulling her close the way you did, or how whenever they sat together there was at least a one inch space between instead of the skin on skin she craved and received from you. Daniela knew she messed up. She should’ve known she messed up when even her own groupmates asked her if she was sure she should break up with you over management's passive comment.
In times like tonight, she remembered no one could replace you.
Not even Jonah, especially when he couldn’t even text to check in. Just eerie silence filling the space you used to occupy in her dorm room. He was her PR relationship. Was she naive to expect better?
The latina would answer yes.
Nights where the stars filled the sky and the sound of traffic finally fades. Daniela is left to her own thoughts. Tonight there is just one.
Daniela Avanzini wished the world could swallow her whole.
Your arms swallowing her whole, also worked.
But that wasn’t an option anymore.
-
Daniela couldn’t count with two hands how many times you had asked her if the two of you could go official. She only ever had one answer, “god no! Do you want me to lose my job?”
You had learned to stay quiet after that.
Daniela just began pretending she couldn’t hear your heart break.
There was one time, just one out of millions where Daniela didn’t shoot the thought down immediately. It was after a bad fight. One of those fights where plates were thrown and cruel words were spat. The two of you were picking the shards of china off the apartment floor. The silence seeped into the floorboards like an infestation. Only then did you ask again, “what if we went official?”
Daniela almost didn’t answer. “They’d hate us,” she muttered, the words too soft for the girl who had her voice booming down the building's halls for hours on end just minutes ago.
“So?” you posed like the thought didn’t scare you. It wouldn’t have scared you if it meant you got to keep Daniela Avanzini.
The girl laughed. It was one of those loud ones that was meant to fill a silence that couldn’t be crossed. “You’d leave,” the words stuck to the latina’s throat as they forced their way out.
“No. I’d stay,” you muttered back like it was second nature.
Now Daniela wishes she took the shot.
It would have been a dream to be official with you.
A dream she threw right out and into the trash.
3. Wish he texted like you
Daniela Avanzini swears the world must have some twisted sense of humour. She’d laugh at it if the stupid ache in her heart would just go away. The painful pounding of her chest never did though.
It was after a show, one of the shows where she’d been dancing so hard she swore she reorganized the organs inside of her. Her head pounded from dehydration, her chest heaved from how much energy she had exerted. All she wanted was to run into your arms. No. Jonah’s arms. That was the promise now.
Her phone buzzed.
“Hey dani baby good job today”
It was a simple text. No punctuation, no specific commentary, just a good job. Daniela hated it.
She hated the way it couldn’t make her heart flutter yours used to. Hated the way it seemed like he barely even paid attention to her performance. Hated the way that everything after you just seems so bland now.
Daniela remembers how she used to brag to her members about your messages. The paragraphs of commentary with personalized comments to her and each and everyone of her groupmates. It was special. You were special, and she lost it.
Now, she’s just left with the short message. A good job, instead of the paragraphs you used to type out just for her.
Her group members were right.
Daniela ruined it.
Daniela Avanzini always ruins things for herself.
-
The first time you watched Daniela perform virtually was her MAMA performance. You watched as she danced with this ferocity in her, like she was proving to herself and the world, again and again, that she was deserving of her place here in the glitz and glamor. That's exactly what you sent to Daniela in a message that night.
“Hey dani <33 you did so good today! You actually did so well I’m shocked! We need to celebrate next time I see you. I’m so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. My girl, you’re going to do so many great things. This is just the beginning. Tell Manon I hope her ankle feels better asap and tell the rest of your groupmates I’m so proud of them too! All of you performed like you’ve been doing this for years! I’m so impressed and all the fans are too!!”
As the performances stacked and blurred into one, the length of the texts Daniela received from you also grew tremendously.
For all of the katseye girls, the highlight of their night after each performance was the nightly ritual of reading the messages you had sent over to Daniela.
It was the night after Daniela had been told she was getting distracted. The same night, they had a performance at an award show. The girl could feel the nerves bubbling in her chest the moment she stepped off stage.
Tonight was going to hurt.
As soon as all of the members had filed away into the van, they all turned to Daniela waiting for her to read out the message you had made. The latina could feel dread crawling up her esophagus, threatening to suffocate her as the realization caved.
This was going to be the last message. The last time they got to do this ritual in a long time. Maybe, in the history of her career as an idol.
Daniela Avanzini had to break up with you.
That meant losing this.
The girl wet her lips as her fingers shakily swiped open the notification on her phone.
One message from my one and only 🥰
Daniela’s throat is tight as she reads out the words.
“Again and again all of you just keep outdoing yourselves! I’m so impressed. Daniela my love,” the latina felt her breath waver at the pet name. She doesn’t deserve this. Not anymore. Still, she continues reading the message out to the group, “you absolutely rocked the stage again and I will always be proud of the work you put in. You are so dedicated and skilled, I am in awe. I love you so much and I miss you. I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re back.” Daniela could hear her voice break as she spoke your promises she knew she'd be killing in days, “Sophia! Your vocals were so stable today, genuinely teach me your magic. Lara, angelic as always. That vocal run changed the chemistry of my brain. Manon, did you have to serve so hard? I saw you walk on stage and I went wow, stage presence! Megan, that dance break? Oh my goodness. You are so full of talent I have nothing to say. Yoonchae, the little sister I never had. That note change you made was amazing and your vocals were so stable. Always going to be proud of you all. I can’t wait to see all of you once your schedules calm down!”
The members cooed and teared up at your words, muttering among themselves that the next time all of you met again they had to thank you for all of your support.
That never happened.
You never got to see them again.
Not when the very next day, Daniela Avanzini chose to walk out of your life forever.
That day, the tradition ended.
That message was the last one you ever sent to the latina.
When day’s got hard, the silence got deafening, the members would ask Daniela to let them see your encouraging words again.
Everyone knew what went down.
No one dared to say a word.
Not when the wound was still raw for everyone involved.
That night Daniela Avanzini didn’t just lose her girlfriend.
All of Katseye lost one of their biggest pillars of support.
And god, did it show.
4. Stop doing dates just like you
Jonah hummed absent mindedly, “thoughts on a double date?”
Daniela could almost feel herself freeze at the familiar words.
“With who?” She bites out. “Please don’t be with Lara and Orlando,” that's all Daniela could think.
Her boyfriend continues scrolling on his phone as he utters the last words Daniela wanted to hear right now, “we could do one with Lara and Orlando?”
You always said that.
That was your dream before she got too busy for you.
“It’s stupid,” Daniela grumbles, trying to think of a way to get Jonah disinterested in the idea.
Jonah laughs like it’s funny. It’s not. “Come on, it’s just a double date. Nothing serious. Two couples, two sets of good friends? It’s perfect!” he grins widely, the corners of his lips practically plastering themselves right under his eyes.
Daniela was done for as somehow, despite her complaints, the idea came to fruition.
It was a stupid cafe date.
Somehow, the two boys seemed to have the time of their life. They eagerly pointed at the baked goods behind the plexiglass displaycase. Croissants, tiramisu, cookies that dwindled in number every time someone approached the cashier. The boys were having a field day.
Daniela just stayed behind with Lara as they watched the scene.
“You can’t keep pretending this doesn't bother you,” Lara says, breaking the tension Daniela was very much trying to ignore.
The girl lets out a strained laugh, like she was trying to make it seem like the arranged date bothered her less than it obviously did, “it’s just a date.”
“The exact type of date y/n used to nag you about,” Lara sighs, “the irritation is written all over your face. Those two are just too preoccupied with stupid flavors of scones to notice.”
“I’m over y/n,” the lie burned on the latina’s tongue.
She was fooling no one.
By the time the four of them had finally sat down, Daniela was running on fumes. Her hands were clenched angrily together on her lap as her nails dug crescent shaped marks into her palms.
That was when Jonah really started to tick her off.
Daniela’s boyfriend spoke, turning to Orlando with a mischievous look on his face as he elbowed him lightly in the ribs, “isn’t this fun? See Dani? You were just being dramatic, this isn’t that bad.”
Lara sends the two men a warning look.
Orlando catches the hint. Jonah doesn’t as his mouth continues to move, too preoccupied in his little lecture to notice the growing disdain on Daniela’s face. Before Orlando has the chance to stop him, the latina stands from the table in an unimpressed rage. Her eyebrows furrowed as she pointed a finger at the boy, “you do not know shit about me. Don’t you dare lecture me on this.” In a fit, she turned for the door, grabbing her purse on the way. Her curls swirled around her in the air as she left the building. Her feet practically stomped on the ground as she did so. Lara muttered a quick apology before joining her outside.
“Dani!” Lara calls.
“It’s supposed to be with y/n, Lar! It was never supposed to be like this! Not with him!” the latina chokes out. Her anger fading away into a sea of tears, “I’m so stupid.”
Lara sighs as she approaches the girl, “Dani, you’re not stupid–”
“–yes I am! I had everything and I just threw it away like it was nothing. I messed up Lara. I fucking messed up.”
The Indian girl just looked at her friend in silence.
Daniela Avanzini was right. She did mess it all up herself.
Management never even forced her.
Now, the latina was finally paying the price.
-
You loved the idea of double dates. Daniela knew of it. You made sure Daniela knew of it with the frequency you discussed the matter. With that, it wasn’t long before you pitched the idea.
“Dani?” you whisper as she’s curled up beside me on my couch after a long day of practice. “Dani,” you say again with more air, finally getting the dazed girl's attention.
“What?” she murmurs groggily, rubbing her eyes as she adjusts to the light from the TV still beaming at her face.
You chuckle at her expression, before letting out a giggle. Immediately, the latina shoots up from beside you like she was bracing for one of your crazy antics again. “I think… we should do a double date together!” you exclaim excitedly.
Before Daniela could even fully register the request in her tired brain, you began your rant, “once we go official it could be so fun to do a double date! Okay imagine, you, me, let’s say Lara and Orlando okay? All four of us, cafe. Two couples, six pairs of super good friends since I feel like if you’re a couple you’re also friends but anyways! Dani, it would be amazing–”
“–Okay okay okay, you are insane,” the latina laughs, “we can’t even go official.”
“I’m saying if, okay?” I smile, “come on, we know the only reason we wouldn’t make it to then would be if one of us broke up with the other, but that’s just dumb!”
That comment aged horribly.
The whole situation did. The memory can’t help but make Daniela flinch. You had predicted it word for word. Even Jonah’s suggestion echoed the way you posed the idea to the girl first.
Did that mean the two of you were doomed from the start?
Or did you just know that Daniela was never really yours to begin with?
5. Wish he hugged just like you
Jonah wasn’t the best hugger, Daniela couldn’t lie. The man was a pretty good boyfriend for the circumstances that forced them together, but truly, he was far from the best hugger. Or again, perhaps you had just set the latina’s standards too high.
His hugs were loose. His arms barely wrapped themselves around the latina whenever the motion occurred, like if he hugged too tight he’d violate some sort of code of conduct written in the guidelines of this PR relationship. Daniela couldn’t care less. She just cared that it didn’t feel like yours. She couldn’t even pretend it did.
It was the last day of the tour and Daniela was beyond tired. All she needed was rest. Emotions were running high, her legs felt like jelly, she could still hear the fans' screams echoing in her ears. Everything was too much, and Jonah? He just had to be backstage waiting for her.
Today was not her day.
As she stepped backstage, she was immediately greeted by her parents. She felt their warm embrace as they squeezed her tight, muttering words of affirmation into her ears. The words bounced off her eardrums and into her soul. It soothed the party of her that begged for anything but the regret that will come next.
Daniela’s wishes weren’t often granted.
Jonah emerged from behind, still carrying this oblivious grin on his face as he opened his arms for a hug. Daniela sighed, walking into his arms as he loosely held her.
It felt wrong to exist in his arms. It was like she was being swallowed whole instead of being held by the one person who was finally supposed to get her.
No one could get her the way you did.
Within seconds, Daniela quickly pushed Jonah off of her. The poor boy looked at her in pure confusion as she quickly left the space he occupied.
“Dani wait–” he called before Lara set an arm on his shoulder, motioning for him to let it go. Lara smiles softly at the latina’s boyfriend, trying to stop the tension from spreading across his features before she hurried off after Daniela.
It was clear. The more time that passed, the more the mistake of the break up began to weigh on the latina girl. It wouldn’t be long until the issue blew up to the point management would be forced to intervene.
Lara grabs Daniela’s wrist as she asks, “Dani, what’s up with you?”
“I fucked up, Lara. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Not with him–” the latina rants as she pulls out her phone and taps into your contact information.
The younger girl gasps, “–you can’t just text them after everything!”
Daniela doesn’t register the words. Her thumbs just angrily dance around the screen before she hits send.
The message runs green.
Lara knows better than to say something as a broken “oh” escapes Daniela’s throat against her better judgement.
No more yearning could save what the latina broke that night.
It was over.
Daniela Avanzini for the first time in her life, lost.
-
Daniela Avanzini loved your hugs. They were like a breath of fresh air in the suffocating environment she lived in. Everyday. Dance, dance, dance until her feet bled and her lungs failed. Dance until there were no mistakes left that could even possibly occur in one of the dozens of routines she needed to memorize. Then you showed up with your stupid hugs.
You had a special way of hugging people.
Unlike Jonah, your hugs were tight. Almost tight to the point where she swore her ribs would break from the sheer ferocity. It was a good tight. The type that reminded her it was okay to be imperfect, one that reminded her she was loved no matter what, one that promised forever in seconds. Her hugs with you always lasted minutes too long. Still, she wished they were longer.
Now, the thought of them just leaves behind a bitter gaping hole in her chest.
Her favorite part of your hugs was how you always give them out to Daniela after her shows. When you could make it in person, you would wait backstage then run to the latina the second the lights dimmed. You would squeeze her tight until she could barely breath as you muttered sweet nothings into her ear.
Those were the days she felt at peace.
Those were the days she felt right again.
Now Daniela just searches for the same feeling in everyone she comes across. A bright smile that almost looks like yours or a borrowed pen in the shared Katseye backpack she forgot to return to you.
In another world, the latina tells herself, in another world she would have stayed, and you wouldn’t have been the one that got away.
6. But he’s just not you
The last half of the year always reminded Daniela of you. Maybe it was because the last memories she had made with you were from those final few months.
Daniela recalls how you loved to stomp in the piles of leaves she painstakingly raked in her parents back yard in the autumn season, or how you would throw snowballs at her unprovoked when the first snow of the winter fell. The two seasons radiated the carefree happiness you seemed to carry into her life.
That was probably the reason why Daniela started her day on the wrong foot this morning.
There was a chill in the breeze as Daniela stood outside the door waiting for Jonah to come out with her. They had both planned to make a trip to the nearest bakery to pick up some bread as they were running low. It didn’t matter anyways. Daniela was clearly having a horrible start to her day.
As the two venture through the streets, Daniela couldn’t help but grumble as the snow piled on. While Jonah went to pick up some of the freshly fallen fluff to create a few snowballs, the latina could feel her irritation grow. It wasn’t the man’s fault he kept being compared to you, but he just seemed to continuously get on her nerves. It wasn’t fair.
Perhaps the continuous anger Daniela had directed at him for the past few days had finally gotten to the boy. He just threw the snowballs at the concrete sidewalk under their feet. Daniela wanted to scold him for acting like a little kid but wasn’t that what you used to do? Carry around this lighthearted bounce in your step as you went about daily life?
Daniela could still remember how you’d always walk 3 steps in front of her on the pavement. The way you skipped around to point at the different things you noticed. For a nicely trimmed tree to a small crack in the pavement where some grass had peaked through, you seemed to always notice the little things the latina forgot about. It made the air brighter, but right now, she just felt like she was suffocating alive, and Jonah wasn’t even doing anything but just existing in her presence.
The girl wrapped the scarf around her neck tighter, like if she wrapped it tight enough, it would finally stop the prickling cold from sneaking down her collar and into her chest that already ached like crazy. It didn’t help that it was your scarf wrapped around her neck, or how the fabric still smelled like you. That soft smell that still clearly screamed your name. If she closed her eyes, she could almost envision you walking in front of her, calling her slow and telling her to hurry up or the bakery was going to close. Every time Daniela laughed along and listened, even though they always showed up 15 minutes early.
Daniela Avanzini supposes the world just enjoys taunting her now.
Her thoughts are interrupted as Jonah suddenly comments, “nice scarf,” like it was just an article of clothing. The latina merely muttered a weak thank you in response.
The man goes on to mutter something about being cold and how a scarf would help. Daniela felt herself biting down a scoff at his words. “You should’ve just brought your own then”, she thought.
She watches as his eyes flicker to her, the scarf, then up to her eyes again. The latina tightens her grip on the piece of clothing before forcing her eyes ahead.
Daniela Avanzini couldn’t give him the scarf. Not when it was the only thing she had left of you.
Jonah grew to accept the silence Daniela carried with her. He grew to accept the way it always landed him on thin ice, accepting the weight that loomed over her head. He had no right to know about the past that seemed to dangle over the latina, he knew that, and Daniela had no right to have to tell him.
He just lived in this weird limbo.
As the clouds continue to drift in the sky above, the pair continue on their trek to the bakery as Daniela forms dire attempts at forgetting the past. She pretends the hint of sweetness she smelled in her surroundings was from the bakery instead of the scarf laying under her chin, ignoring how the store was still 6 blocks away. She pretended the grin that reached her face was from how Jonah accidently tripped over nothing, not the way she spotted a small squirrel scurrying by, a sight that would have sent you ranting about some hilarious nonsensical thing just because you had nothing better to speak about.
Daniela Avanzini learned to let it go.
But the pain still lingered. It mixed with regret and frustration as the creases that grew on her forehead became more and more visible by the day.
Nonetheless, how could you blame her?
It wasn’t her fault the new boyfriend her management had found her was so much like you.
"Every super needs their bat, but you end up with an unlikely pair"
You mind your own business, stay out of the Bat-family crime fighting circus, and thrive in Gotham just fine- Until Bruce Wayne decides you're the perfect person to train Sophia Clark, superman's smug, over achieving daughter. Now you're stuck monitoring a Kryptonian who thinks she's better than everyone, in a city that eats heroes.
Tags: enemies to?, superwoman! sophia, Wayne!reader, arguing, family dynamics, they kinda don't like eachother, BATFAM, tension
Wordcount: 2k<
A/n : my biggest fear is missing out some parts when I move my stories from word to tumblr, so if anything feels void or out of context TELL ME
Gotham City never really slept. It only shifted moods—from the daylight masquerade of polished shoes and business suits to the midnight crawl of whispers and sirens. For you, it was home. Chaotic, flawed, and yours. You weren’t a Bat. You weren’t even one of the shadows that trailed beside him. You were Bruce Wayne’s middle child—too independent to join the family business of nocturnal violence, too stubborn to be just another Wayne in the tabloids
But even from a distance, you were close with your siblings. You knew their secrets, covered their bruises, and made excuses when the press sniffed too close. You stayed out of the caves and gadgets, but the Bat-family’s world never truly left you alone.
Tonight proved just that.
The gala at Wayne Tower had been another exercise in pretending. You wore your mother’s old diamond earrings, your father’s polite smile, and your own brand of quiet rebellion—a sleek black dress that cut sharper than any Batarang. You’d just escaped a conversation with a snooty investor when you saw her.
Sophia Clark.
Supermans daughter.
You didn’t need the headlines to recognize her. She had that same impossible glow about her—the kind that made everyone else in the room fade to gray. Raven hair swept perfectly over her shoulder, deep eyes that looked carved out of a Kryptonian glacier, and a smile that seemed to mock you without even trying.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in Gotham. Not in your city.
“Wayne,” she greeted, her voice warm and condescending all at once. “Didn’t expect to see you hiding out here. Thought you preferred the comfort of your father’s tower.”
You raised your glass, not bothering to hide the distaste in your tone. “Didn’t expect you here either, El. What’s the Metropolis golden girl doing in Gotham? Get bored saving cats from trees?”
Her lips twitched, almost smiling. “Cute. I’m actually here for work. But I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”
You felt the jab land—a familiar sting. Everyone knew you weren’t part of the Bat-family’s hero club. It was a choice, but people like Sophia never saw it that way. To them, you were the privileged Wayne who watched from the sidelines.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” you said coolly, stepping closer. “Some of us don’t need to throw ourselves off rooftops to prove a point.”
Sophia tilted her head, eyes scanning you the way her father probably looked at villains. “Some of us don’t hide from what we are.”
The words hung there—heavy, deliberate, cruel. You stared at her, your pulse tightening. You hated the way she looked at you, like she already had you figured out. Like she’d decided you were fragile, useless, soft.
“Must be exhausting,” you said finally, forcing a smirk. “Being so perfect all the time.”
Her smile turned sharp. “You’d be surprised how easy it is when you actually are.”
You opened your mouth to fire back, but a sudden shift in the air made your skin prickle—a familiar weight settling over the room before you could place it. A presence you’d known all your life, sharp and steady, brushed against you. Then the heavy, controlled footsteps follow, each one deliberate, practiced, unmistakably belonging to someone who never needed to announce himself. And when he finally stepped into view, the presence solidified—Bruce Wayne entering the space like a shift in gravity itself. Even without looking, you could feel him—your father’s presence always arrived a second before he did.
He wasn’t loud, he didnt need to be. Power clung to him in every way. The tailored black suit, the subtle glint of his cufflinks, the sharpness in his eyes—he looked every bit the billionaire the city worshipped and the vigilante the criminals feared. And beneath it all, that familiar scent reached you: expensive cologne softened by warm leather and cool steel, a scent you’d known since childhood. A scent that meant safety, command, and warning all at once.
Bruce’s gaze flicked between you and Sophia, assessing, calculating, already three steps ahead of a conversation that hadn’t even begun yet. His voice didn’t need volume to take control.
Bruce’s gaze landed on Sophia first, his sternness easing by a fraction. “Sophia. I’m glad you made it.”
She straightened subtly—as if even Superman’s daughter felt the weight of his approval. “Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Wayne.”
Their exchange was smooth and polite. You watched it with a tightening jaw. They spoke briefly—formal pleasantries, mutual respect, nothing out of place—yet it felt like the floor was shifting under you.
Then Bruce turned to you.
And just like that, the softness vanished.
“I asked Sophia to be here tonight for a reason,” he said, voice low but final. “I need a favour from you.”
Your stomach dropped. “A favour?”
He nodded once. “She’ll be operating in Gotham for the next few months. Metropolis wants her exposed to our methods, and I want someone I trust to guide her. You.”
Your breath caught. “You want me to train her?”
“It’s not optional.” His tone left no room for argument. “We’ll discuss the details later. Not here.”
You couldn’t make a scene—not at a gala, not with hundreds waiting for a crack in the Wayne façade—so you swallowed your shock, your frustration, and your pride.
You nod meekly, “yes father” venom threatening to slip into your tone, but you knew better.
Bruce gave you one last firm look, then nodded to Sophia with that rare, respectful acknowledgement he reserved for people he saw potential in. And just like that, he walked off—leaving the two of you standing in the echo of the decision he’d made for you.
The moment he was out of earshot, Sophia exhaled sharply. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.”
You snapped your head toward her. “Really? Because from my view, it went perfectly awfully”
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“Not that—?” You nearly scoffed. “You’re getting forced into my city, into my space, and I’m apparently your new babysitter. I think ‘dramatic’ is appropriate.”
She folded her arms and tilted her head with that familiar scowl she reserved for you only. “For the record, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Great,” you shot back. “Tell that to my dad.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t ask for this either.”
“Oh, I’m sure you hate being assigned to Gotham, the one city that doesn’t swoon the second a Kryptonian shows up.”
Her jaw tightened. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re infuriating.”
Sophia stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m here to do actual work. I don’t know what you’re here to do besides glare at me and complain.”
You scoffed. “I was here to enjoy one night not dealing with hero nonsense, but clearly that was too much to ask.”
Sophia’s lips curved into a slow, irritating smirk. “You know… for someone who’s not in the field, you make an impressive amount of noise.”
Your eyes narrowed. “And for someone who thinks she’s perfect, you talk an impressive amount of crap.”
For a moment, the two of you just glared—heat simmering, irritation sparking, the kind of tension that could topple buildings if either of you pushed hard enough.
Sophia finally sighed. “Look. We should at least try not to kill each other before training starts.”
You forced a tight smile. “Sure. I’ll pencil that in—right between ‘scream internally’ and ‘move to a different planet.’”
“And you’re in my way,” you muttered, brushing past her.
She didn’t move. “See you tomorrow, Wayne.”
The way she said your name made your pulse spike—for reasons you refused to examine.
You kept walking.
You signed up to be a lawyer and Wayne successor not a supesitter. But you knew going against your father wouldn’t be smart, especially when you knew he owned everything you aspired to uphold
You really needed that rooftop run.
Later that night, you were out on a rooftop run with Dick and Jason—your usual escape whenever the world felt too heavy to swallow.
The Gotham skyline stretched around you, sharp and cold against the midnight air. Dick ran ahead in that obnoxious, graceful way he always did, flipping over a vent like it was nothing. Jason jogged beside you, mask off, helmet clipped to his belt, cigarette tucked behind his ear because he promised he “wasn’t smoking tonight.”
You didn’t even get two rooftops in before Jason groaned.
“Alright,” he said, hands on his hips. “Spit it out. You’ve been stomping like you want the roof to file a complaint.” The sass in his tone would usually agitate you, but you had worse things that poked at you tonight.
Dick glanced back with a knowing grin. “Let me guess—Dad did something?”
You scoffed loudly. “Oh, did he ever.”
Jason snorted. “Called it.”
You launched into it before the irritation could fester any deeper and before their pestering and teasing led to an inevitable fist fight.
“He invited Sophia to the gala.”
Dick blinked. “Superman’s kid?”
Jason made a face of pure disgust mixed with a tinge of joy at your annoyance. “The dark haired one who looks like she judges people for breathing too loud?”
“YES,” you snapped, throwing your arms up. “Her.”
Jason doubled over laughing so hard he nearly tripped. “Oh, this is already good.”
Dick leaned in like he was settling in for a bedtime story. Atleast he had some manners to read the room “What happened?”
You clenched your jaw. “He wants me to train her.”
Both men froze mid-step, almost giving themselves whiplash from turning at such speed.
Jason actually choked. “He WHAT?”
Dick slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in utter disbelief. “You? Train Sophia, THE LITTLE MISS PERFECT SUPERSUCCESOR?”
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “YES. Apparently Metropolis wants her exposed to ‘Gotham methods,’ and Dad wants someone he ‘trusts’ to guide her.” You mimicked Bruce’s voice with extra gravel. “It’s not optional.”
Jason doubled over laughing. “This is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Jay,” Dick warned through a laugh of his own, “be nice.”
“Why?!” Jason wheezed. “Our sister is being forced to babysit a Kryptonian princess with an ego problem! This is poetic justice.”
You shoved him lightly. “I hate all of you.”
Dick slung an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not that bad. She can’t be that annoying.” His attempt to lighten your mood faltered as you hear Jason continuing his assault on your ears with his absurd laughter.
You looked at him dead in the eyes. “Dick. She breathes like she owns oxygen.”
Jason made a strangled noise- now almost lying on the dirty rooftop. “I’m dying—keep going.”
“And she said I ‘wouldn’t know what work was like.’”
Both brothers stopped again. This time looking at you with the kind of seriousness you’d have to beat out of them during batfam meetings.
Dick blinked slowly- trying to ensure he heard you correctly. “She said what?” His tone was now rid of its playfulness.
Jason added onto the tense atmosphere cracking his knuckles. “Okay. I take it back. We’re jumping her.” The movement made you cringe, but you appreciated the thought behind it at least.
You groaned again. “No one is jumping anyone. I just… I can’t believe I’m stuck with her for months.”
Dick squeezed your shoulders reassuringly, his tone softening. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll go better than you think.”
Jason smirked. “Or maybe you’ll kill her.”
“little wing.”
“What? I’m being supportive.” He scoffed- shoving dick halfway off the rooftop “and stop fucking calling me that shit”
“WHAT? You took up my place as robin so be proud, little bitch” The chaos erupting right beside you faded into the distance as you continued your feet's assault on the Gotham rooftops in thought.
You sighed, staring out at the city—your city. The place you loved, the place she was about to invade.
This was going to be hell. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the batcave or wayne siblings found out about the personal hell Bruce set out for you.
And your brothers? They were going to enjoy every second of it.
An :I know this was really short but it's just a little intro yk. Sorry it wasn't that focused on sophia and y/n.
warnings: this chapter includes a decent amount of transphobia, in fact it's like the main plot point. as a result yn deal with a lot of dysphoria again if you do not think you can read said subject matter, please skip this chapter. i can always post a tldr later on if requested.
yn found himself in the upper class side of the city surrounding DA for the 3rd time this week. it hadn't started as something he was purposefully doing. opaline had just wanted to study together, then she wanted to hang out, and now it was a friday night and yn was waiting for the massive ass gate to open up so he could get into the residence that opaline and her family lived at.
the house itself wasn't a mansion by any means but it was easy to tell that they were rich just from the outside. it became even more apparent when yn stood outside the front door of their house.
anyways, yn didn't even get to knock before opaline was opening the door. "yn!" she said excitedly, pulling the taller man into a tight hug, one where her hands ran up and down yn's hips.
yn swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut. 'it wasn't on purpose' he thought to himself. opaline pulled him into the house, and through the living room, past the kitchen and finally into her room.
he'd never actaully liked being in her room, it had always made yn feel small, not only because of the actual size of the room but rather because how it exuded her untouchable feeling. the entire room was visibly perfect, a fact that yn knew for certain that opaline had nothing to do with.
the smell was another thing he hated, whatever scent opaline decided to use to freshen up this room was already to strong. yn had never been able to pinpoint what the smell was, much less where it was coming from. the thing he did notice however was how the smell always left him feeling dizzy.
"so.." her voice trailed off, it was sickly sweet and yn could already feel the need to cower coursing through his vains. "we could watch a movie or.." she trailed off again, leaning close to yn's personal space.
almost automatically, yn took a step back and rubbed the back of his neck. "a movie sounds good." yn ignored the way that opalines face twisted in something akin to anger.
"you don't have to talk like that." opaline said, her voice dripping in the malicious tone that yn knows so well.
"like what?" he asks shakily, thumb starting to run over the inside of his wrists.
"all deep and masculine." opaline said with a scoff.
"it's just natural.." yn tried, "i've been on testosterone for 3 years now."
she waved him off. "you're not supposed to have a deep voice, it doesn't sound right." she sat down on her bed carefully and grabbed her laptop. "come on baby let's watch some dumb superhero movie you like."
but yn didn't move. he couldn't, his legs wouldn't move. the only thing the man wanted to do was to rip his vocal cords out and stomp on them. he wanted to shed his skin and adjust where his muscles were.
opaline looked and let the smallest smirk fall onto her face. "yn?" she asked in that innocent voice. "what movie?"
yn shook his head and tugged at the front of his shirt. "batman." he muttered, moving to join her on the bed,
she muttered something under her breath that yn didn't care enough to her. his mind was far away. thoughts he hadn't even heard from his mind in at least a year. the smart part of him knew he needed to get up and leave. needed to listen to what olivia and conan had been yelling at him for months.
but then she wrapped her arms around his arm and cuddled in and every part of yn's body except his brain shut off. despite the fact that he wanted to fight against it, she still had control over him. power he knew she was obsessed with.
he tried to subtly run his hands over his chest to flatten it out more. unfortunately opaline noticed. "i don't get why you spent so much money on flattening your chest." she leaned back onto her arms and off of him. "it clearly didn't work. they should give you your money back."
yn didn't have to look at her to see the weird combination of malicious and power hungry in her eyes. "it makes me more comfortable" he mutters, eyes trained on the way the scene in front of him played out.
opaline laughed, not softly, but instead with her full chest. as if the idea of yn being comfortable with himself was out of the question. "well it didn't work. i mean have you seen your closet? theres more sweaters than the average person would know how to deal with."
yn took a sharp breath and closed his eyes, begging his mind to keep the dam up long enough for him to weather the storm.
"you're so lucky that daniela even looked in your direction." opaline muttered, cuddling back into yn. "she should really reevaluate her sexuality though." opaline mutters like it was supposed to be just for herself but yn knows. he knows it was for him, she knows what buttons to press to make him as malleable as possible, and now she's got a whole new board of buttons.
"why?" he asks but he knows the answer.
"well, because it's you." she says like it's the most obvious answer. "she can't be straight if she likes you." opaline doesn't explain more but yn doesn't need more explanation.
in that moment they both know opalines grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and started cutting the trust in himself he's built back up in the last year.
yn can feel the way that opaline seems to gain more confidence in herself. he can feel the way she adjusts to make herself just that little bit bigger.
yn tries desperately to focus on the movie, to get the plot and pick up on things non comic book nerds wouldn't pick up. but he can't.
not when opaline keeps making vague comments about him and his body.
for once, his mind drifts, away from the girl beside him, away from her harsh words and even harsher eyes. away from her deep brown eyes and straight hair.
instead it lands on her, just like it had a lot over the last month. to her kind smile and teasing eyes who were always making sure that she hadn't pushed it too far. to her honey eyes that looked upon him with so much care. to her curly hair that she wore natural and yn couldn't help but admire at any point. to the way she acted around her friends, how comfortable she was, and how she could flip on a dim and give the scariest glare possible. his mind drifted to how she moved her body while she performed, how she looked so at home while dancing. it took special care to tell him about how soft she looked when she spoke of her family. how easily she slipped back into spanish. how good naturedly she'd laughed at him when he fucked up the pronunciation. she'd spent 30 minutes after that teaching him how to pronounce what he was trying to say. not even a lick of mal intent in her eyes.
in moments like this, while he was with opaline and his body wouldn't let him leave the torture she was causing him, yn found comfort in daniela avanzini. the girl whose ex boyfriend had sent him to the hospital. the girl who'd shown up once to apologize, who was giving yn puppy dog eyes better than megan during that moment. she'd spent 5 minutes apologizing. she'd left after an hour, but yn had felt safe and secure. he'd laughed so hard despite the aching in his ribs. but she was also the girl who'd ghosted him. the one who'd ditched him, and although he didn't quite believe olivia and conans reasoning, they'd been right about opaline all those months ago.
he paused that thought process, laughing to himself. so much for trusting their guts. here he was, cuddling with the worst person he knew.
opaline began to say something, probably teetering on the edge of just straight up transphobia. it didn't matter though because dani's face flashed and yn's body finally worked. he shrugged opaline off and stood up from the bed.
opaline sputtered behind him, scrambling off the bed to catch up with him and ask him what he was doing. but yn didn't listen, he walked past the kitchen, through the living room and right back out the door. he nodded to the workers as he passed and some of them looked at him with new found respect.
he unlocked his car and slipped into the drivers seat. that's when he heard her. "fuck you too then yn!!" she screamed from the front door way. yn flipped her off and took off, leaving through the gate he'd entered through just 30 minutes before.
he'd barely made it too the highway before he was crying.
prev - main - next
notes: hehehe, i did kiss this brick bc it was a heavier brick and i felt bad BUT next chapter :)
She lay with you on the grass, sleep still in her eyes, but you begged her the night before to see the sunrise. Although you had to jump onto her bed (and maybe even threaten to wake up Emily or Adela), she still managed to get up that morning.
She wonders sometimes if she hadn't, would she have felt it?
(She knows it’s a stupid thought. She would have felt it months later. That feeling would have come every time you caught her eye across the practice room. It would have hit her even in the loudest moments, where you, her, and the other girls would be sitting together in the lounge, gossiping about something that is now irrelevant.
She would have felt it when your hand found hers, your shoulders bumping into each other because you just couldn't stop laughing).
But as the sun started to peek its head above the hills of Los Angeles, its rays shining through the trees, Megan started to squint— feeling more alive as the warmth began to settle.
She then felt it when, instead of watching what you begged her to see, you looked at her instead.
Soft, kind, and everything she could have ever wished for in a best friend.
Megan stared back at you, ignoring how her back felt wet against the damp grass beneath you both. Her heart raced in her chest when she felt your pinky brush against her hand, and as the sun finally found its place again in the sky, she linked her pinky with yours.
That’s when she felt it.
And deep down, it terrified her.
When she hears your name muttered underneath Lara’s breath one random day during rehearsal, she feels her own hitch.
She hadn't heard it since that night— when hers was called, and yours was not.
Megan looks up from her phone at Lara, waiting for an explanation as to why she suddenly decided to bring you up. The Indian girl looks at Megan and notices her questioning glance, turning her phone toward the girl.
Megan leans in closer and squints at the screen, her heart dropping to her stomach when she sees the old, shared album that she and the other Dream Academy girls used to add to after every activity, every rehearsal, and even after any random gas station run.
The album is filled with pictures from that era– some seen by the world, but most of them only kept for their eyes only. The picture Lara shows is one of you that you must have taken on someone’s phone.
It’s of you in .5, sticking your tongue out, and winking at the camera. The photo exudes your playful personality, the one that everyone used to say matches Megan’s well.
“That’s why you guys became friends so fast,” Megan remembers Karlee saying one night. “You two are always on the same wavelength.”
Lara takes her phone back, and Megan sits there, remembering how it used to feel to have your presence next to her. She’s so lost in the memory that she almost misses Lara’s question, “Do you ever wonder what she’s doing?” Lara continues scrolling through the old photo album, unaware that Megan pales at the question.
Lara doesn't see how the other girl clenches her jaw when the memories begin to become too much.
She doesn't need to see the photo album. Everything is still stored where Megan left it, tied neatly with a bow and placed somewhere so she will never have to see it again.
But when Lara finally looks back at Megan, the other girl has a smile on her face. She shrugs her shoulders and responds as if the conversation wasn't tearing her apart, piece by piece, “Not really… We fell off literally right after the finale.”
Lara frowns at her words, tilting her head. “Which is crazy because you guys were the closest next to Sophia and Marquise in Dream Academy…” Megan’s smile twitches slightly, but Lara continues anyway, “Did you know we all thought you two were like, in love?”
Megan laughs loudly. Her throat feels tight, and she feels as though all the air in her lungs has left her body. Something inside of her aches at the thought of everyone knowing how much she loved you.
It grows painful when she realizes that the doubts she had, the fear, really were all in her head.
The younger girl waves Lara’s words off, though, continuing the facade she had put on. After years of practice during Dream Academy, it scares her how easily she could still lie when it comes to you. “I told you, we were just friends.”
That night, though, she looks you up on every social media platform she could think of.
Your name, though, was nowhere to be seen.
What was left were your photos from Dream Academy, and a few before that era here and there.
One she stares at for far too long.
It was of you and her. Your hands were wrapped tightly around Megan’s shoulders, your face buried into her neck as she was caught laughing at something that was said off camera.
At some point, she begins to sift through old memories, ones she never thought she would willingly visit. As she goes through her closet, she finds her old suitcase– the one she had brought to Dream Academy. She opens it, wondering if anything had gotten lost inside in any of the pockets.
That’s when she finds the note.
“Come find me.”
It was tucked away, not visible to her eyes when she first unpacked after leaving that era behind.
The words were written on a page ripped from the journal that you used to write in every day. It’s slightly faded, and the paper's edge is torn. But at this point, it’s all Megan has of you.
Her hands shake as she reads it over and over again.
Megan reaches up and touches her shoulder gently, squeezing it before closing her eyes.
She imagines it as any other day, and you’re there. And everything is going to be okay.
“Do you know where my eyeliner is?”
Megan leans closer to the vanity mirror, applying her lipstick for the day ahead. She feels you place your hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “You were the last one to use it.”
She looks at you through the reflection of the mirror and sticks her tongue out, capping the lipstick. “I’m stealing it from you because it’s so much better than mine,” Megan claims, giggling when you swat at her shoulder. Her laughter becomes louder as you grab her shoulders, gently shaking her with annoyance.
“I am so tired of you stealing my stuff!” You exclaim, pushing her playfully before walking back to the full-length mirror where you were doing your own make-up. Megan turns around in the chair and smiles at you, her heart doing flips as she watches you start braiding your hair.
She places her chin on top of the chair, staring at you in silent admiration. Megan doesn’t know how to describe what she feels for you– she tries to convince herself that she just adores you. She adores how passionate you are, how you’re able to learn a routine by just watching it be done at least three times.
She’s obsessed with the way your mind works, and that somehow, in your mind that seems to have a million thoughts running through it every day, you still have an opportunity to keep her in there.
Megan loves you, that’s all she knows at this point. And it’s enough.
“Do you ever think about what you’d do if this doesn’t work out?” You suddenly say, pulling Megan out of her thoughts. She tilts her head, trying not to frown at your question.
If there were anyone in this competition who would succeed, it would be you.
Megan sighs and looks down at the ground, biting her lip. “I… Don’t think I’ve thought that far ahead.”
You nod, continuing your task of braiding your hair as you respond, “I think I’d go back to school.” You tie the end of your braid, starting the next one as you continue with a slight smile on your lips, “Go to college, or something.”
Megan looks up at you with furrowed brows. The thought of not debuting with you makes her feel sick. She couldn’t have gotten this far without you; how will she continue if you both have to go your separate ways? Megan has never done well with goodbyes.
She thinks she never will.
“What would you major in? Dance?” Megan asks, masking the doubts running rampant inside her head. She hears you laugh, which catches her off guard. However, she chuckles, despite feeling confused about why you thought her question was funny.
She feels more confused as she watches you shake your head. “If this doesn’t work out, I’m never dancing again.”
She’s at a party held by Adela when she asks Emily a question she’d been keeping to herself for weeks, “Do you know what happened to Y/n?”
The other girl seems taken aback by the question, her eyes wide in slight shock. Emily then laughs, tilting her head at Megan. “I think out of everyone, you’d be the one to know how to answer that question.” The Chinese girl frowns and rolls her eyes, ignoring the guilt that starts to fester at the pit of her stomach.
“Okay, I get it, we were close. But like, not anymore…” Emily raises a brow, her curiosity piqued at Megan’s sudden quiet manner.
“Is it because she changed her number?” The blonde asks, taking a sip from her drink.
Megan sighs, shaking her head as she looks down at her feet. “I didn’t even know she changed her number.”
Emily places her drink down onto a table next to her before facing Megan again, her arms crossed and her expression serious. “Why… didn't you guys keep in contact?” She purses her lip and sighs. “To be honest… it’s something a lot of us talk about…”
Megan takes a sip from her drink, her heart dropping to her stomach at Emily’s words. She takes the cup away from her lips to respond, “Us… as in…?”
Emily motions her head toward the other girls, who were all sitting together, catching up on random tidbits from their lives. “Like, most of us. Me and Adela were literally talking about it two weeks ago because she got a Snapchat memory of Y/n.”
“Oh… right.” Megan nods, looking down at her drink to avoid Emily’s eyes. She sees the gleam of concern in them. Megan knows Emily is expecting an answer to her question—she wants to put the pieces together and solve a mystery Megan had been unaware of this entire time.
But Megan doesn't have an answer.
You were gone before she could even say goodbye.
The thought makes Megan grip the cup tightly, almost crushing it. “We just fell off.”
Megan looks up at Emily and shrugs, attempting to laugh off her poor response. She shakes her head and takes another sip from her cup, her eyes snapping toward the other girls who have fallen into another fit of giggles.
As she tries to focus on them, Emily speaks up, revealing information that catches Megan’s attention again, “Well. Lexie said the last time they talked, Y/n went back to her hometown.”
Megan can't help but grimace at the mention of Emily’s bandmate, her eyes drifting once more to find the girl in question. She sits with the other girls, her eyes wide and attentive as she listens to Lara’s story about her most recent situationship.
Megan bites her lip when she sees Lexie laugh, her smile bright and warm. It reminds Megan of you and how you always gushed about Lexie’s effortless beauty.
To this day, she can’t help but shift uncomfortably at the thought. She looks away from Lexie, as if to stop herself from becoming irritated.
Megan takes a longer sip from her cup. When she lets the alcohol reach her throat, she smiles at Emily as if, somehow, you’d appear right behind her. “That’s nice that they still talk.”
Megan lies on your bed, typing away on her laptop as she waits for you to return from speaking to your parents. She rechecks the time at the corner of her screen and frowns when she realizes it’s been nearly an hour since you’ve been gone.
The phone calls with your parents were never the best part of your day. You always complained about how overbearing they are, how they will always try to make you think this was all for nothing.
When you come back into the room, Megan sits up immediately, closes her laptop, and places it at the foot of your bed. She reaches out to you, but you end up sitting on the floor instead, your back against the side of the bed and your legs pulled up to your chest.
You hug them tightly, staring blankly at the wall. Megan peers down at you and frowns, wondering if this is a sign that you wanted to be alone.
She slides off the bed, slowly lowering herself to the ground to sit next to you. She tries her best to keep a slight distance from you— enough to not overwhelm you, but close enough for comfort. She places her hand palm up on the ground, letting you decide what you need at this time.
Without sparing her a glance, you take her offer, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently.
Megan sits in silence with you, allowing you to collect your thoughts. She knows how little the support you’re receiving from your family, despite how much you try to hide it, still affects you significantly.
After some time, you finally speak, “I’m never going back there.”
Megan squeezes your hand and nods. She whispers, “When you win this thing, you'll never have to.” A soft laugh escapes your lips. You lean your head against Megan’s shoulder and close your eyes.
“If I don't win… I think I’ll go somewhere near a beach.” Megan shifts slightly so she can rest her head against yours. She squeezes your hand for the second time.
Megan smiles gently. “Can I go with you?”
“No, because you’re gonna debut,” You reply, removing your head from her shoulder. You look at her with an intense expression as you continue, “You’re gonna make it through this and win.”
Megan leans her head toward you, tilting it slightly in a teasing manner. She bumps her shoulder into yours as she says, “Okay, but… If we both don't win, let's move somewhere together.”
You giggle at her words and let go of her hand. Before Megan could protest, you scoot away a bit, shifting your body so your back is to your best friend. Suddenly, you lie down, your head in her lap, and the way you softly look at her makes Megan feel shy.
She threads her fingers through your hair, and you sigh in response, closing your eyes. “You can teach me how to surf.”
Megan snorts at your words. “I already tried doing that, and you hated it.”
“Okay! But like!” You start giggling and swat at the girl’s shoulder. “You can’t just say, 'Watch me and try it!’ And expect me to immediately know what you’re talking about!” You both fall into a fit of laughter with Megan’s head thrown back against the bed.
The tense atmosphere dissipates as you two start talking about a future that seems within reach.
The competition is long forgotten as you tell Megan how you’d like to decorate a home. She tells you where she’d like to keep the picture frames.
“She wouldn't go back to Michigan— she hated it there,” Megan tells Lara the next morning, shaking her head as she slips on a sweater. She spins around to face her best friend, who waits patiently by the door for her to finish getting ready for practice. “Like, Lexie can't be right.”
Lara shrugs, checking her watch briefly before responding, “I mean. they're gonna be there today around the same time as us… Why don't you ask her?”
That’s how Megan finds herself hours later, waiting outside one of the practice rooms. She feels a bit weird doing this– especially when both Samara and Emily walked out first earlier and eyed her curiously. Emily stopped and asked why she was waiting, and Megan chose her words carefully, telling the blonde that she just prefers this specific room to practice in because of its amenities.
Megan knew Emily could see right through her– she knew that her best friend knew of her intentions, but thankfully, she accepted Megan’s words and continued on her way.
The Chinese girl bites her lip and peers inside the room to see Lexie packing her stuff up for the day. When she finally finishes and starts to make her way toward the exit, Megan takes a deep breath and waits for the girl to walk out of the room before getting her attention. Lexie doesn’t even notice Megan when she walks out, and jumps slightly when she hears the other girl, “Lexie.”
The shorter girl stops, slowly turning to face Megan. She tilts her head at the girl’s presence. “Megan? What are you doing here?”
The words fell from Megan’s lips before she could stop them, “Can I ask you about Y/n?”
Lexie widens her eyes at the mention of their shared friend. She opens her mouth but closes it quickly, as if retracting a statement that first came to mind. The Swedish girl looks up at Megan, her expression confused. “What… About her?”
“Do you– Okay,” Megan shakes her head and sighs, her brain short-circuiting as she tries to think of a way to word her thoughts. Her eyes dart around the hallway to avoid the look in Lexie’s eyes– It’s unreadable, but she knows it’s somewhat judgmental.
You didn’t wanna know three years ago, the other girl probably thinks. Why would you want to know now?
“Someone told me that the last time you spoke to Y/n… She was in Michigan,” Megan fidgets with her fingers as she continues, “But I don’t think that’s right. Y/n would have never gone back.”
Lexie furrows her brows, and for a moment, Megan feels as though she has crossed a line.
How would you know? People change.
Megan is about to take her words back and walk away, hoping Lexie would be able to pretend that the interaction never happened. But the other girl’s eyes suddenly soften, and it causes Megan to stay put.
Lexie crosses her arms and looks down at the ground, as if carefully thinking about a response to Megan’s statement. She sighs and takes a deep breath, looking back up at the girl. “It’s what she wanted me to tell everyone so they wouldn’t… Try to find her,” Her eyes scan over Megan, and they narrow slightly. She seems cautious as she tries to uncover Megan’s intentions.
The Chinese girl steps closer, her lip trembling. “What if it were me trying to find her?”
“It’s been three years, Megan.” There’s a bite to her words that makes Megan want to cower away. But she stays where she is, holding Lexie’s gaze, hoping it’s enough to show her that, for the first time in so long, she wants to try.
Suddenly, the Swedish girl nods. “The last time we talked, she said she was at some school here in California.”
Megan’s eyes gleam with a bit of hope as she replies, “Like. Here? In Los Angeles?”
“No… somewhere in the Bay Area… But…” Lexie looks away again and lets out a heavier sigh. “She didn’t tell me what school, but she did tell me she’s studying English or something.”
Megan nods, taking a mental note of Lexie’s words. She’s about to thank the girl for the information, but Lexie speaks again, her voice quiet and unsure, “That was like, last year though… When we talked. She changed her number so…”
“I heard,” Megan mutters under her breath, suddenly feeling bad for Lexie. It’s as if you had hit some sort of last straw, finally disconnecting yourself from Dream Academy and everything that had to do with it– including Lexie Levin. Megan wants to reach out to the girl and offer her some comfort, but she knows she’s the last person Lexie would want any connection with right now.
Lexie runs a hand through her hair, voicing a memory she had from that last conversation with you, “Apparently, there’s some box of junk she had during Dream Academy that might have some sort of clue…” She tilts her head as she asks Megan, “Did you know she was looking at and applying for colleges when we were filming?”
A box of junk.
Megan shakes her head, a lump in her throat at the realization. “I had no idea.”
You and Megan stare at the box full of things you both collected throughout your time together in Dream Academy.
It was considered the ‘junk box’ despite not having a single piece of trash inside. It was where you both put receipts from restaurants you enjoyed, wristbands from places that indicated you weren’t 21 yet, and even seashells or rocks both you and Megan had found and collected because the other might find them pretty.
You look at Megan and smile, turning away to look at the hole you both have dug at a secret spot you two found on one of your many late-night drives. “You ready?”
Megan takes a deep breath and stares at the hole. Their time together at Dream Academy is coming to an end, and the results of their hard work, of all their tears, will either be worth it or considered another chapter in their lives to close.
She reaches out to you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. You look at her with an adoration that always overwhelmed Megan. Something in her wants to scream at you– to tell you to stop looking at her as if she were everything you were looking for.
As the finale comes closer, she wishes you were colder; someone to hate so she could shake away the feelings you give her.
But you are nothing but kind. And Megan stares back at you with the same expression– maybe even more intense.
She nods. “Let’s do it.” She turns away from you and reaches for the box, but you quickly grab her hand, causing her to turn back to you with wide eyes.
“Wait, sorry! I need to put one more thing inside!” You lean over, grabbing your book bag and unzipping it to find the last piece of ‘junk’ to throw inside the box. Megan observes you, her brow raised as you pull out a small envelope.
“What’s that?” she asks. You don’t respond; you only reach back toward the box and open it to place the envelope inside. The box closes, and you look at Megan with a smile, but this time it seems unsure, not quite reaching your eyes, which have a hint of uncertainty. Megan groans and pouts at you. “You’re gonna throw it in there and not even tell me what it is?”
You wink at her, your eyes still gleaming. Megan stares at you for a moment, hoping you’d at least share with her what the envelope contained. But after a few minutes of silence, she rolls her eyes, grabbing the box once again with the hand that doesn’t hold yours.
“Okay, whatever. Are you ready now?” You nod, squeezing her hand. You reach for the other side of the box and pick it up together, dropping it into the hole.
You both stare at it for a moment. Megan takes a minute to memorize it for what it was. It’s a random Amazon box that had no significant value whatsoever. But to you and her, it was everything and more.
“Maybe when we come back and dig this back up, I’ll show you,” You tell her. She turns her head toward you and smiles, bumping her shoulder against yours.
“When we do come back to dig this up, you will show me, capiche?”
You salute her. “Capache.”
“What a very gay thing to do, to be honest. Like, yeah, let’s bury our fondest memories together and then never speak to each other again,” Lara deadpans, crossing her arms as she watches Megan dig for the box you and her had buried years ago.
Yoonchae stands off to the side, wiping away the rest of the dirt that’s on her arms and clothes due to her decision to help Megan at first. However, after finding nothing, the younger girl decided that her job would be to provide emotional support going forward.
“Would you shut up? You’re not even helping!” Megan yells at the girl who holds her hands in defense.
She shows off her nails to Megan, frowning. “I just got these done for the tour, and also, I’d help if, you know, someone brought a shovel.”
Yoonchae chimes in to the conversation with a soft sigh, “Yeah, that part.” Megan rolls her eyes and continues to use her hands to dig the hole. She knows she’s fucking up her hands, and she doesn’t even want to see the aftermath of her nails after this, but when Lexie mentioned ‘a box of junk,’ she knew the answers to all of her questions had to be in that mysterious envelope.
“How do you even know if she even wants to be found, Meg?” Lara asks, sighing when she sees her best friend digging even more urgently than she had before. She glances at Yoonchae, who looks back at her and shrugs.
“I showed you the note she left me,” Megan replies, not even bothering to look up at her bandmates.
Yoonchae walks closer to Megan and places a hand on her shoulder. She looks down at the older girl with a slight frown. “A note from three years ago?”
Megan stops and looks at the progress she has made so far. The hole most definitely wasn’t deep enough, and she isn’t even sure if this is the correct spot where you had buried the box in question.
Tears start to brim in her eyes as she looks down at her hands– scratched and slightly scarred due to not wanting to give up. In the back of her mind, though, she knew she already had.
She just didn’t know it at the time.
Megan traces the dirt with her finger and shakes her head. “I don’t even know why I stopped talking to her,” She laughs bitterly, biting her lip. Her tears start to roll down her cheek as she thinks about you– how you must have waited for so long.
“I was so caught up with… This” She uses her hands to gesture around wildly, and Yoonchae crouches next to her, pulling her into a hug as Lara walks over to place her hand on top of Megan’s head, smoothing her hair out gently.
Megan takes a deep breath before continuing, “I got so wrapped up in everything that I forgot about my person.” She covers her mouth, stifling the sob that couldn’t be held back. Megan sinks into Yoonchae’s arms while she cries, allowing herself to finally let go of the emotions she had been avoiding since losing you.
Lara tilts her head as she watches Megan cry. She glances down at the hole Megan had created in the ground and reaches into it, using one of her newly manicured nails to scratch the surface. Her eyes widen when she realizes something was underneath the entire time. Lara grabs Megan’s shoulder and shakes her gently.
“Wait, Meg. Look!” The girl slowly removes her head from Yoonchae’s chest and looks at Lara with glossy eyes. She turns her head to where the Indian girl points, and she immediately sits up, realizing what the other girl had discovered.
The three of them lean down, using their hands to dig up the rest of the dirt that covers the surface of a box inside the hole. Eventually, Megan can pull it out and place it on the ground. She stares at it for a moment, breathing heavily. “This is it. The stupid Amazon box.”
Lara wipes the dirt off her hands and looks at Megan expectantly. “Well, open it already!” Megan nods at her words, reaching out to the box. She cautiously rips the tape off of it, breaking the seal to a secret that had been buried by you years ago.
When she finally gets it open, Megan feels the world stop moving for a moment as she looks inside and sees the many memories she had made with you.
All of the receipts and other letters have long since faded, no longer able to show where they came from or who wrote what clearly. But, as Megan sifts through them all, it feels as though it was yesterday she had placed these items inside. Every day, it was something new, and every time, it was something new she had done with you.
Finally, she finds the envelope you had placed at the last minute. She pulls it out with shaky hands, not knowing what to expect when she opens it. Megan turns it over to the front and realizes you had taped it down.
She peels the tape away and takes a deep breath. She feels the presence of both Yoonchae and Lara right behind her as she pulls out the paper inside, and as she unfolds it, her heart quickens.
The grip on the paper tightens as she comes to realize what you tried to bury and hide from her.
An acceptance letter to a college in San Francisco.
Megan’s favorite part of the day is when she finally gets to see you after a long day of training.
By the time she’s done with dance rehearsals, you’re already walking out of one of the studios, having completed vocal training for the day.
The moment you spot her down the hall, you beam, your pace quickening to meet your best friend.
You've done this a million times before. Megan has seen you in passing throughout the entire day. Yet, once the storm and chaos of training had officially closed, and you both could finally breathe, seeing each other was almost like instant relief.
Every time you wrapped your arms around the other girl, you always sank into the embrace, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck. Megan clutches your shirt tightly, needing more of your presence than you can already offer.
Sometimes, the other girls watch the reunion in passing, sharing knowing glances as they allow you both privacy despite the public area.
After a few more moments of relishing each other’s presence, eventually you both pull away, grabbing each other’s hands to walk out of the building for the day, finally. It’s usually Megan who starts the conversation, rambling about things that have bothered her throughout the day. You would listen to her, hanging on to every word despite how repetitive her sentences became as she continued talking passionately.
However, this time, it’s you who decides to speak first. “The choreographer today said out of everybody here, he’s confident that I’d be in the final line-up.” You tell her this with your eyes to the ground, but Megan can see the way your lip twitches upwards.
Megan squeezes your hand and looks at you silently, waiting for you to continue.
“And, honestly? I’m starting to feel confident in that, too.” For some reason, your words sit uncomfortably with Megan. She’s happy for you– of course she is. But something lingers in the back of her mind, something she hates to admit out loud.
At the end of the day, you were another person she was competing against.
Megan sees the votes every week and how you’ve quickly become a fan favorite. She can’t help but feel a slight bitterness toward you whenever one of their vocal coaches praises you for doing well. Megan often finds herself leaving the room when the other girls begin asking you for tips on how to do certain things in a routine.
You’re her best friend, but there’s a chance you two wouldn't be put in the group together.
And she isn't sure if she’s more scared of that or not getting a spot at all.
This has been her dream for as long as she could remember. Megan believes this opportunity—this competition —is what will determine whether her sole purpose is truly to be a performer.
As you continue rambling on about how well everything went today, Megan could feel herself slipping away. The dark part of her mind starts to take over as she lets go of your hand.
She stares at you and smiles as if everything was fine. She thinks about the late-night chats with you, the ones where you would both make a pact never to leave each other’s side, no matter the results.
But today, she didn't feel as confident as you.
As much as she loves you, she can’t help but wonder if the distraction is worth it.
She looks away, your voice becoming more like background noise as you both finally exit the building. There’s an aching in her chest, and she knows she’s being irrational.
But Megan wants to win.
At the end of the day, everyone wants to win.
While packing for the tour that night, Sophia slips quietly into Megan’s room, her footsteps soft and cautious as if not to scare the other girl away. It brought a slight smile to the Chinese girl’s face, knowing who had just walked in. Her leader would usually be bouncing off the walls right now, making sure everyone had their things situated and ready for the few months ahead of them.
But when Sophia begins to step closer, Megan can’t help but feel as though something is wrong. She turns around to face the Filipina, her brows furrowed in curiosity. “Soph, why are you being weird right now?”
Megan tries to laugh it off and crosses her arms, looking at the older girl with amusement in her eyes. However, her expression falls when she notices the way Sophia smiles.
It’s the smile she gives when she wants to prepare someone for disappointing news, the one she had seen so many times during their debut era. Megan’s arms fall back to her sides as she whispers, “Sophia?”
The Filipina looks down at the ground and takes a deep breath. She avoids her bandmate’s eyes when she replies, “I know you’ve been trying to find Y/n.”
Megan sits with Emily, Ezrela, and Lara as they discuss their most recent fuck-ups during training.
The conversation is lighthearted, filled with jokes only the four of them could understand. They considered this group a ‘safe space’ —especially during the tensest moments that would come up throughout their time during rehearsals.
Megan had tuned them out, though at some point, smiling as she continued to text you. She would look up every once in a while, reassuring them they still had her attention. However, the moment they would look away, her eyes would become glued to her screen once more.
This doesn’t go unnoticed, however. Of course it doesn’t, especially with Ezrela’s observant eyes. “What’s Y/n up to?” She teases, nudging Megan playfully as the other girls giggle at the way the Chinese girl’s cheeks redden slightly.
She pockets her phone and crosses her arms, shrugging as she replies, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Emily sighs and leans her head against Megan’s shoulder, taking a peek at the other girl’s phone screen. The blonde girl gasps as Megan quickly scoots away from her, shoving her to the other side of the couch. “Emily! Why are you so nosy!”
“Wait! Why’d you gasp?!” Lara asks, crawling over towards Megan to see for herself. The Chinese girl stands to her feet and groans, pocketing her phone, away from her friends’ eyes to see.
Emily leans against the couch, grinning widely up at Megan. “You guys are in love, just admit it already.”
Megan feels her cheeks start to heat up, and she hopes it isn’t visible to everyone. It’s obvious to anyone how much Megan means to you and vice versa. You’re both basically attached at the hip, always seen together and never without each other.
Lately, though, Megan has felt somewhat distant from you. As the girls continue to tease and make fun of the close relationship you two held, the Chinese girl finds herself in a constant battle between keeping you close or pushing you away altogether.
She has never fallen in love before, and she refuses to do so when the finale becomes more real as the weeks fly by.
Megan crosses her arms and narrows her eyes slightly at Emily. “Stop saying me and Y/n are in love, it’s not true…”
“Well, that sucks because…” Ezrela chimes in on the conversation, leaning forward to whisper, “I heard Y/n might be in love with you.”
Lara squeals loudly, causing Megan to jump. The Indian girl scoots closer to Ezrela and asks, “Wait, where’d you hear that from?!”
Megan feels that pit in her stomach start to grow. She feels nauseous at where the conversation was heading, and she has the urge to run away—the possibility that you might be in love with her has lit something inside Megan.
And she desperately wants it to go away.
Ezrela giggles, not realizing the tension that radiates off her friend. She looks at Megan and smiles, exuding an excitement that Megan couldn’t even fake to match. “Y/n told Lexie, and then Lexie told me the other day.”
Sophia looks back up at Megan as she hands her the tie that used to belong to you.
Megan stares at it, her chest suddenly feeling tight as she remembers helping you with it all those years before. Hesitantly, she reaches for it and takes it from Sophia. “Why do you have this?”
The other girl still doesn’t meet Megan’s eyes as she replies, “I saw her leave that night.” The Chinese girl grips the tie in her hand when she hears Sophia’s admission. A heat creeps up her neck as her leader continues, “I feel like… Deep down, I knew that would be the last time we’d see her.”
“So, why didn’t you say anything?” Megan says suddenly, her voice raising slightly. She furrows her brows at Sophia, wanting the girl to look her in the eyes. Tears start to form at the other girl’s silence. Megan holds the tie tighter, as if you might somehow appear. “Sophia, why didn’t you say anything?”
The leader sighs as she runs a hand through her hair. “Meg, would it have really made a difference?”
“Yes!” Megan yells, stepping closer to the Filipina. She raises the tie up to Sophia’s face, causing her to turn her head toward Megan. She sees the distress in the younger girl’s eyes, the desperation for something different. Sophia opens her mouth to reply, but Megan continues, shaking your tie in her hand as her voice starts to break even more, “Yes! Because I could have made her stay!”
There’s a silence between them. Sophia sighs as she watches tears fall from Megan’s eyes. The older girl tilts her head and looks at the girl with furrowed brows. “Are you sure?”
“Megan has been avoiding me,” You tell Sophia two days before the finale.
You sit outside the dorms with her, your knees tucked underneath your chin as you hug your legs tightly. You keep your eyes to the ground as you speak, not wanting the Filipina to see the storm that’s been brewing inside you for days. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Sophia looks at you with a frown. She reaches out to you and places a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. “She’s probably stressed out about the finale. Don’t worry about it too much…”
Something about the older girl’s words puts you in even more distress than before. You hug your legs tighter as you reply, “I think that’s what I’m worried about.” You blink a few times, trying to stop the tears that have formed in your eyes from falling. “What if this is Megan’s way of telling me she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?”
“You know that isn’t true, Y/n…” Sophia scoffs, scooting closer to you to wrap her arm around your shoulder. She pulls you against her chest, allowing her to thread her fingers through your hair. “Everyone literally has bets that you two would end up together.”
This elicits a laugh from you, sniffling slightly. “She doesn’t see me that way.” You shake your head, closing your eyes as you continue finding comfort in the Filipina’s presence. “I’ve dropped so many hints the last few years… It just isn’t happening.”
“Have you actually told her?” Sophia asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.
You sigh at her question, opening your eyes. The nighttime is quiet– the only thing you can hear is the sound of Sophia’s heartbeat and the gentle Autumn breeze. It feels as though time has stopped, and you have more time with all the people you have grown close to. The thought of your world changing significantly in just two days scares you.
When you first entered Dream Academy, you didn’t expect what it handed you.
And now, there’s a chance you’d lose it in less than 48 hours.
“I haven’t. I don’t think it would make a difference now.” Sophia stays silent, only nodding at your words.
She continues to play with your hair as she whispers, “Do you think you’re getting a spot?”
“No,” You smile, not bitterly, not even with sadness. You smile genuinely for the first time in weeks. “And I think I’m okay with that.”
Sophia feels a tear run down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away, not wanting you to worry. She takes a deep breath and holds you closer. “What’s next for the Y/n L/n, then?”
You nestle closer to Sophia, suddenly feeling the urge to fall asleep. You close your eyes, the smile still on your face.
“You’ll see.”
On the night of the San Francisco show, Megan posts a collection of photos on Instagram.
The last photo is of her holding your tie, smiling widely at the camera.
The caption reads: I’ll find you.
There was once someone who used to take your hand and squeeze it. Not too tightly, but just enough to tell you that she was there— to say to you that you’re not crashing down alone.
She used to whisper in your ear, a code only you two knew. It was to tell you it’s okay to fall apart.
Because she was there, she was there to hold you together.
But when her name gets called, her hand slips out of your grasp.
She doesn't look back at you as she celebrates with the others— the winners.
And as the lights shut off, and the cameras cut, you stand there, as if waiting for her to say the word.
But she never does.
So, you left. You leave the Dream Academy uniform folded neatly on what used to be your bed for years. Not a single word is said to the others as you slip away.
She saw you.
She knows she did.
“Where the hell are you going?” Sophia yells as she tries to catch up to Megan. The other girls follow behind, worried expressions on their faces as they watch their bandmate quickly make her way toward the exit of the building. But, before she can push the door open, Sophia grabs her arm, yanking her away from potentially making a mistake. “Megan! You can’t just leave right before–”
“I think I saw Y/n,” Megan claims loudly, pulling her arm out of Sophia’s grasp. She places her hands on the door, staring at her feet to avoid showing the tears streaming down her face. “I think– No, I know I saw her.” She tries opening the door again, but Lara’s voice stops her once more.
“Megan, I love you, but this is insane,” She hears her footsteps coming closer toward her, and it makes Megan want to run out the door. After months of following all the clues, all the hints you have left for her to find, she knows that this would be her last chance. She turns around to look at her bandmates, the desperation in her eyes loud and evident.
“I’m in love with her,” Megan admits breathlessly. Everyone stares at her, their eyes wide at the sudden confession. They already knew, but hearing it said out loud, after years of speculation, leaves them all speechless.
None of the other girls makes a move when Megan finally exits through the door, watching it shut.
Megan finds you sitting alone outside the Hybe building the night Lexie left.
You sat on the ground, looking up at the sky as if you were wishing for her to come back. Megan knew that, besides her, the friendship you had with Lexie was also something you cherished deeply. If it wasn’t Megan by your side, then it was Lexie. Sometimes Megan found herself envious of how close you two were. Whenever she saw you together, laughing or just enjoying each other’s company, there would be a lump in Megan’s throat.
She knew it was stupid– you didn’t belong to her.
But watching you now, the way you sit so quietly, Megan also wishes Lexie hadn’t chosen to leave.
Megan tries to approach you without disturbing your peace; however, her presence isn’t unnoticed, and you speak up: “I can’t lose you.” She stops in her tracks, her cheeks reddening at being discovered so quickly.
Megan opens her mouth to reply, but you beat her to it. “Lexie is gone, and I can… I mean, I think I can live with that…” You sniffle, and Megan starts to move again, quickly sitting next to you so she can wrap her arms around you. She holds your head close to her chest, her fingers threading through your hair.
You hold onto Megan’s hoodie, gripping it tightly as you continue, “But I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Megan feels the words she wants to say get stuck in her throat. It feels too final– as if she were to tell them, then it would mean something more than she’d like to admit.
I can’t lose you either.
Instead, she holds you tighter. She whispers, “I’d come find you if it ever happens.”
The grip on her hoodie feels like a plea. “Can you?”
The way she tucks your hair behind your ear feels like a promise. “I can.”
You don’t respond again, but you don’t have to. Megan already knows.
Even if it took forever, she’d try to find you.
She’s your best friend, after all.
a/n: me when i love being evil <3 i hope u all enjoyed n pls lmk what u think :) will probs create a late angst advent calendar at some point this weekend, we'll see!
It's only gotten harder to make friends | Sophia Laforteza
summary: you can’t help the feeling you get when you see the shepherd girl, even if you try getting lost in the woods somewhere, your nose leads you back to her.
warnings: mentions of blood and death
tags: little red riding hood x the girl who cried wolf
wc: 3.8k
note: i have a lot of fics that i have written halfway but havent finished so uhh expect that sometime within the next year lol. this fic is heavily inspired by my goat ylfa snorgelsson, iykyk. wanted to post something before finals gl on all ur studies if ur in school :) i'm gonna try to be more active on tumblr but i lowkey shy so i'm sorry in advance
“why do you have this cloak all the time? let me try it on!” sophia teased as she pulled the cloak off of you.
your ears perking up and immediately flattening on your head, trying to make themselves invisible but you know the damage is already done.
you ran away before you could see her reaction.
it wasn't always like this. the fear of being discovered didn’t always loom over your head.
“don’t stray off the path, and whatever you do, do not trust the big bad wolf,” your mother called out, as a little girl hurried out of the house to get to her grandmother’s.
you were always a rambunctious child, never wanting to listen to authority figures. ever since your grandmother taught you how to play gin rummy you’d beg and plead to visit. finally finding an excuse to bring over some cinnamon toast rolls and lollipop corn to your sick grandmother, you hurried on her way.
it wasn’t your fault that you strayed off the path, you saw a caterpillar chasing a butterfly. it was just so interesting and then there were the flowers that you thought your grandmother would appreciate, not to mention a stray wolf you saw. but hey, you eventually got to grandma’s house.
approaching the cottage in the woods, you notice the door wasn’t closed but left ajar. pushing it open further, you could only start rambling about your day to your grandmother, far too excited to notice anything different.
“grandmother it's me! i brought cinnamon toast rolls and lollipop corn just like ya like!” you started talking, placing the basket down by her bedside table as you saw her figure lay in bed. “all the good stuff that's gonna help you heal because i know you're not feeling well, there was a bunch of broth but i dumped it.”
“oh? okay dearie you dumped all the broth?” a voice that sounded similar enough to your grandmother replied. the sickness must be affecting her throat.
you didn't think much of it as you continued walking around the room reenacting your travels, “yep it was weighing me down and i needed space so i dumped it in a river”
your grandma seemed to go along with your silliness just like she always did, “so you took the broth halfway? found a river and said ‘this is where the broth goes?’”
“umm.. yeah! but i picked up fresh flowers on the way?” you tried justifying.
“i hope you didn’t stray off the path to get them,” your grandmother said, although there it was again. that strange voice that sounded just like your grandma but not quite.
you brushed it off, she was just sick of course. but as you turn your head to actually look at your grandmother, you notice grandma is looking a little funny. her ears are larger than normal.
“grandma? your ears are honkin’ big,” you say in a joking manner.
but her reply doesn’t match your tone, it was something eerie, unsettling. “better to hear you my dear.”
you can’t help what comes out of your mouth next, “haha.. um grandma, your teeth are really big…”
“all the better to eat you with…” she replies.
“what?”
you watch as your grandmother sits up in the bed, as the sheets, the cap, all of it falls away and somehow without the cottage getting bigger, you see a wolf that towers in the space. its gaze is completely neutral as it stares at you.
it sits on the bed, there's a hum in the air as if something was missing. although it said it would eat you, it made no moves in doing so.
“i.. what happened to my grandma,” as tears welled in your eyes, forcing them back to seem more intimidating.
“i’ve eaten her.” it simply replied, as if talking about the weather or some other trivial topic.
“why?”
“i am a wolf.”
you are only 11, you couldn't process what had happened. the fact that grandma was gone and wasn’t coming back, the tragedy of the situation doesn't hit you as you fire back angrily, “well the woodsman is going to come along, and show you the sharpest side of his axe!”
so you stand there waiting, hours turn into days as you stand waiting for someone, anyone to help. maybe grandma would come back and this was just some sick prank your siblings were playing on you.
but no one ever came.
as time passed, you stood shaking, on the verge of passing out. the lack of water and food was getting to you. but still as ever, the wolf sat on the bed, its gaze fixed on you.
“you are dying.” it stated. staring you down as you wobbled from side to side, your energy rapidly fading.
“no. i’m just waiting” you stated stubbornly.
the wolf could only stare at your paling figure, “if you do not eat, you will die. this is the law”
“what would you have me do?” you mumbled, you were losing hope slowly, maybe you were destined to die here.
the wolf sighed, and turned to look at the fireplace. “go to the fireplace and pick up the axe, come to the foot of the bed, raise up the axe, and split my skull. when i am dead, eat my flesh, and you will be strong enough to wander the woods on your own and return home.”
you could only let our a half hazarded scoff, “thats.. ridiculous, i dont even think i could lift up an axe. no i wont, i cant!”
“the woodsman is not coming.” the wolf argued.
you couldn’t accept that, not now. not after waiting for so long. “he often comes by, i’m sure of it, he’ll be here!”
“i told you, my teeth were made to eat you.”
you let out a frustrated huff, “so just eat me! just eat me and get it over with!”
“it is not your time.” it stated calmly.
“So it's my grandma's time and not my time?!” you shot back.
“yes.”
“well. i don't trust you because everyone told me not to trust you, so then what you say isn't true and the woodsman is coming”, you turn your back to the wolf, walking closer to the window as you look into the woods.
because of hunger, it's a blur, the trees and grass blend together. as you stand there waiting by the window for a woodsman that would never come, what was left of that snarky child that was full of life, was reduced to nothing but hunger.
a strong, overwhelming sense of hunger.
as only instinct takes over, as you pick up the axe. a moment of hesitation washes over you as once you do this, there's no coming back from it.
but the thoughts get drowned out by the rumbling sound in your stomach, heaving the axe over, your eyes empty, as you split the wolf’s skull and consume its flesh.
in the moment before the axe comes down, the wolf lowers its head, ears pressed against its skull as its eyes close as if accepting the outcome.
your hands and teeth tear into the wolf’s body, your face covered in blood as there's something now running through your veins.
you can't recall what happens after, but you remember going back to your home where your mother and siblings await.
you know there are people inside, you can smell them, but the door is locked. even as you try and turn the knob, it won’t budge.
it's the middle of the night and here you stand, outside the front door of your house, tapping lighting on the window. your red cloak draped over your head as you now attempt to hide your newly sprouted ears.
“mom.. mom..” you whisper shout, but no one answers.
you tap harder, leaving scratches on the windows from your claws.
“mom? mom it’s me, i'm back, something really bad happened to grandma.” you shout a bit louder.
“get away from here!” your mother shouts back.
you stand there frozen for a second, why was mom treating you this way?
“mom if you could just let me in, i’ll explain everything!” you pleaded, you were scared. the forest behind you only appeared to be getting darker by the second.
“i’m sorry that i strayed from the path, you were right and there were grave consequences. is the door barred because i can’t-”
before you could finish your sentence the voice of your mother pierced your ears again.
“i don’t know what you are. but my daughter is dead!”
“no she’s not shes right here please mom.”
“wear her skin all you like, but i know, look at you!”
you see that a hand held mirror is held up to the window, your reflection finally being seen. you notice the way your eyes glow a dangerous yellow, how the claws on your hands and furry ears in your head stick out from your cloak.
you hiss in reaction, something about it making you angry.
“mom i think there's just been a misunderstanding please, i’m sorry. it was my fault… grandma is dead, i dont have anywhere to go if not here and it feels like the door is barred and i can’t get in and…” you pause, “i don’t know what i’ll try to do if i can’t get in. mom, please i’m scared.”
you hear a voice from inside, “we know that the wolf can wear the clothes of others, we know that it can mimic their voice. our only hope is that the woodsman will come”
you feel rage suddenly fill your body, “but the woodsman never comes, don’t count on the fucking woodsman.” you spit out.
for that moment you lost yourself, you quickly regained your composure. “i’m sorry i cursed, i’m so sorry. please mom.” you were getting desperate.
“alright, alright… don't hurt us, don't do anything to the home. come to the door and i will let you in.”
you felt relief for the first time in weeks, you dust yourself off, the dirt and debris that clung onto your cloak not letting go. you try to make yourself more presentable but accidentally add a tear to your cloak. you’re stronger than you remember.
“it’s fine i can fix it, i can fix it.” you think to yourself.
the door unlocks as you walk in, the lights are off, you can't seem to see anyone.
taking another step into the house, a silver blade impales itself into your shoulder.
“mom? who threw that?” you shout, scared, you panicked not knowing where to look. you couldn’t see anything.
but you could smell them.
“run! run out the backdoor!” your mothers voice could be heard shouting to your siblings.
this was a trap, the blade was meant to peirce you in the heart. coming to that realization you feel anger start to boil within you, an uncontrollable rage.
“you lured me in with your own love? you fucking scam of a woman.” you shouted, not recognizing your own voice anymore.
you slowly stalk towards your mother, her hiding figure behind the dinner table. the table that was set with one less plate.
you flip the table, a growl coming from your throat, “did you have a nice dinner? a nice dinner while you thought i was dead? if i was so dead then where is my headstone!?”
you remember your claws extending and your bones breaking in unnatural positions, the hair on your back growing to spread across your body as you tripled in size.
you shake the memories away not wanting to remember what happened after, its been a year since then. you wander the forests, your ears and tail still sticking out of your cloak, the same red cloak your grandmother gifted you.
it still had the rip in it from that night.
there was a bright side though, something that you could look forward to. there was a shepherd girl that was often bored, she’d randomly shout “there’s a wolf! there's a wolf!” so often that the village grew sick of her jokes.
sometimes you would just watch from afar, watching as she would lead the sheep to a fresher patch of grass, or pet them and whisper sweet nothings into their ears.
you didn't think she’d ever notice you, but spotting a red cloak in a forest of green was never that hard.
“hey! you there!” she called out, startling you out from behind the tree.
you froze, not knowing what to do. you didn’t want to hurt anyone, not after everything that happened.
“don’t think i can’t see you, come out right this instant!” she commanded, although she was only 12, she spoke with a tone you couldn’t ignore.
you pulled your hood over your head to cover your ears, and tucked your tail into your pants, making you seem “normal” as you walked out from the forest.
you stand awkwardly in the clearing, arms stiff at your sides, hood pulled so low that you can barely see past 2 feet in front of you. the shepherd girl marches straight up to you, hands on her hips, like she’s not even a little scared of the stranger lurking in the woods.
“why are you creeping in the woods? you know you are terrible at it, the red totally gives you away.” she points at your cloak.
your mouth goes dry. you haven’t talked to anyone for months, your tongue feels foreign as you try to speak.
“i wasn’t- i wasn’t creeping,” you stammer as heat crawled up your neck.
she circles you once, squinting in mock suspicion. “well! i’m sophia.” she sticks out her hand. “and you are?”
you open your mouth to answer, to say your name, but it comes out as more of a mumble of noises than any words.
sophia blinks. “um, once again i don’t think i caught that.”
you try again, somehow even quieter.
she snorts. “okay yeah, i didn’t catch a single syllable of that. soooo~” her eyes sparkle, “i’m just gonna call you y/n/n. nice cloak you got!”
your cloak. your grandmother’s cloak.
her hand reaches toward you, fingers brushing the frayed edge of the tear, the tear from that night, and she frowns softly. “it’s ripped here, i can fix this if you-”
you yank the fabric away so fast your hood nearly flies off your head.
she jumps back, hands raised immediately. “woah! i’m sorry. i wasn’t gonna ruin it or anything.”
your heart pounds, your ears flatten against your head, hidden under your hood, but sophia just gives you a small, apologetic smile. like she’s not scared of you. like she’s not suspicious. like she just wants to help.
and for some reason, that makes you stay.
the days blur together after that.
sophia decides you are friends, she drags you through fields filled with waist high grass, challenging you to races you always win but pretend to lose. she shows you how to weave flower crowns, though yours always come out lopsided and she insists they have “wabi sabi”. whatever that might mean.
sometimes she catches you looking at her and smiles like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
for the first time in a long time, you feel something warm in your chest that isn’t hunger.
the only thing that was an issue lately was the sheep.
the sheep hated you.
the moment you come even a step closer, they bolt in the opposite direction. bleating and panicking, as if they were shouting for their lives.
you would be lying if you said they didn’t look appetizing at times.
“wow,” sophia says with her hands on her hips. “they really don’t like you. they’re usually only this dramatic when they see thunder or like a wolf.”
you shrink into your cloak. “maybe.. they’re just skittish.”
“yeah. probably.” she shrugs, tossing a handful of hay toward them. “they’re weirdos.”
as the seasons changed, your cloak would get caught on bushes and sticks as sophia chased you around. you always ensured that your cloak stayed pulled up, your tail tucked in. even when it started wagging frantically at the sight of sophia.
how would it not?
sophia smells like sheep, grass, sunshine, everything and anything good you could possibly think of.
you smell like…
you pull your cloak tighter against your body.
nevermind what you smell like.
it was just a regular day, sitting under a tree as you both looked into the field of dandelions. at times like these you forgot about the tail that begged to be free and the ears that hid themselves shamefully under your cloak.
“why do you have this cloak all the time? let me try it on!” sophia teased as she pulled the cloak off of you.
your ears perking up and immediately flattening on your head, trying to make themselves invisible but you know the damage is already done.
you can’t breathe. can’t think. can’t stay.
not again.
not again not again not again-
you ran away before you could see her reaction.
before she could shout and look at you in disgust, you rip yourself away from her grasp, sprinting into the trees. your cloak snags on a root but you don’t stop, you don’t dare stop.
your cloak tears free and slips off your shoulders entirely, falling onto the dirt behind you. from afar you swear you could hear a voice shout, “wolf! there’s a wolf!”
man you just mess everything up.
it was as if something compelled her to shout.
“wolf! there’s a wolf!” sophia shouted, running in the opposite direction towards her sheep.
her mother came running out of the cottage, to find her little girl running towards her frantically.
“mom there was a wolf! i-” she was going to tell her mom that you were the wolf but, she stopped.
she almost said it was her, the girl in the forest.
she almost said it was you.
sophia’s mother only looked at her disappointingly, “i thought you grew out of this, stop lying about a wolf when there isn’t one.”
sophia stared at the ground, fists clenched in her dress.
“…okay,” she whispered.
and it hurt. because for the first time, she wasn’t lying.
sophia stood at the forest’s edge long after you’ve disappeared, your cloak in her hand as she looks into the forest. the same forest that she first saw you in.
except this time you weren’t there.
the forest only stared back.
empty.
cold.
too quiet.
that night she sat by the fireplace in her cottage, her mother asking why she was up so late.
“i’m just fixing something up for a… friend.” sophia mumbled, avoiding the gaze of her mother as she continued sewing the cloak, repairing the tear from all those nights ago.
she tied off the last thread and brushed her thumb over the seam.
“i’m sorry,” she whispered to the empty room.
not just for the cloak.
for shouting.
for freezing.
for pushing you away.
the day after the incident you had found yourself waking up next to a tree somewhere in the forest, trying to get lost. to never find your way back to her. to never risk hurting her.
but there was this pull that always led you back to the edge of the forest. to the same edge where you met her.
and there you found your red cloak on the ground, with a note laid on top.
“i haven’t told a soul it was you, i’m sorry.”
you stood there frozen as tears welled up in your eyes. she had fixed the rips and tears that had accumulated over the past year.
sophia was your first and only friend.
and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss her.
you drape the cloak around your shoulders and for the first time you don't lift the hood up to cover your ears. it somehow feels warmer than before as you wrap it tighter around you.
it smells like her.
okay no need to be creepy. you think to yourself, shaking your head.
but there’s just something that always drags you back to the same spot you met all those months ago.
the next morning, sophia stands at her window with sleep in her eyes
she expects nothing.
she expects empty.
she expects the same quiet ache she’s been waking up with ever since you disappeared.
but instead she sees the red hue of your cloak, staring back at her from the forest.
not imagined.
not remembered.
real.
her breath catches. her heart forgets how to beat.
“y/n/n,” she whispers.
and before she had time to think she took off running. barefoot and breathless but with the biggest smile on her face.
“Y/N/N I THOUGHT YOU LEFT FOREVER!” she shouts before lunging herself onto you, leading you both crashing into the ground.
you could only stare up at her as you saw the tears well up in her eyes and fall onto your face.
“hey watch it!” you angrily but you both know there's no malice behind your words.
sophia started crying before she even realized she was doing it.
“i’m sorry,” she sobbed into your shoulder, the words spilling out broken and fast. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”
you tried to answer her, but your voice refused to obey you. all you could do was hold her and cry into her hair, clinging to her in a desperate, silent way that said everything your mouth could not.
then the forest filled with voices.
sophia froze instantly, her body going unbearably tense in your arms as someone shouted her name from beyond the trees. you heard it too, you already knew what was going to happen.
big bad wolves don't get happy endings.
your ears pressed flat against your head without you even thinking about it, and your tail curled tightly around your leg.
sophia stood quickly and moved in front of you before you could even think to stop her. her small body drew itself up like it meant to shield you from the entire world.
when her mother emerged from the trees with several others behind her, the relief in her face vanished the moment she saw you.
“get away from it,” her mother cried, her expression filled with disgust as she could see your ears. someone behind her muttered that you weren’t human. another demanded where the woodsman was so he could chop off your head.
you reached out for sophia one last time, a slight tug at her wrist. not because you wanted to take her with you, but because you wanted to look at her one last time, to pretend like there wasn’t an angry mob of villagers waiting to behead you.
you turned and ran into the forest that had taken you in once before, disappearing into the darkness that had always claimed creatures like you in the end.
behind you, sophia screamed your name.
this was one of the times you wished you didn't have keen hearing, because her shouts for you followed you into the forest.
maybe in another story, you would get your fairy tale happy ending.
casting director huh yunjin is desperately trying to find the perfect seymour krelborn after practically begging on her knees to get sophia laforteza to play as audrey for the school's upcoming musical theater event. little did she know, the perfect seymour was with her all this time; raging to stardew valley and animal crossing.
Breaking my silence to say that DA is literally the worst thing to ever happen to the girls and this fandom. This documentary has all of you UNDER SPELLS because there is no reason for you to be using it— a highly edited version of months upon months of footage reduced into mere hours— as “evidence” for your manufactured narratives between the Kats and DA contestants (and even between the Kats themselves). We’ve seen evidence time and time again of the girls loving each other to death: interviews, lives, performances, posts, etc, yet some of you insist there’s this seething rivalry or hatred between them based off of what they’ve seen in that god forsaken show. It’s been nearly two years. You need to let go. I beg of you. I never thought that the concept of people growing and changing themselves was a foreign concept, but apparently to people (particularly toxic solos) it is.
90% of the drama that happens in the fandom stems from the show that will not be named and how it characterized the girls. Like damn, you're writing fanfiction and not the good kind lmao.
Anyways, fuck the producers for setting EVERYONE in that documentary up.
everyone knew that sophia doesn’t like to talk about her past, especially if it’s connected with yn. the same girl who used to play with her when they were younger, in other words her childhood best friend— the girl she loved. their break up was honestly never expected by anyone, one fight led all of it to end. sophia knows to let go of things quickly, a break up wouldn't be an exception. and yn? well, she lingers. always trying to get sophia's attention, all while trying to deny that she still loves her. maybe she just loves the girl too much to forget about her, or she just misses the ghost of the girl who used to know. well, how long will yn keep chasing the girl who won't even spare a glance at her? will she get sophia back or will she find someone new?
☆ BAKIT MAHAL PA RIN KITA? — chapter fifty-three !
everyone knew that sophia doesn’t like to talk about her past, especially if it’s connected with yn. the same girl who used to play with her when they were younger, in other words her childhood best friend— the girl she loved. their break up was honestly never expected by anyone, one fight led all of it to end. sophia knows to let go of things quickly, a break up wouldn't be an exception. and yn? well, she lingers. always trying to get sophia's attention, all while trying to deny that she still loves her. maybe she just loves the girl too much to forget about her, or she just misses the ghost of the girl who used to know. well, how long will yn keep chasing the girl who won't even spare a glance at her? will she get sophia back or will she find someone new?
GREATEST LOST
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taglist (closed): @pizzachicken @redroomgraduate @kkoga @nokpopnolifee @avanzinii @goofymickeyr @iluvyuandme @seobluuu @yjiminswallet @wwwlpgs @minfolio @98oceans @deuxae @gablmk @bbanghanni @evs-h @lovelee4u @keilyskei @typicalaveragedude-blog @gigislovergirl @notheroverthinker @lovelytayyy @sewiouslyz @skz-xii @avxryly @saturda3 @idkbruhdoyou @makelame @chahcahca @let-zizi-yap @fein4lararaj @vinvinvin-who @aeriyism @milfmomorene @potabletable @gay-panic-at-all-times @vmpmorez @jadasmp4 @meisodanon @xyi-art @ufwazariah @blockastaddict woah ouch. . . end of flashback next chapter ! currently 2 in the morning here 🥀🥀🥀
She exudes confidence, never lacking in the department of being a ‘bad bitch’ as Manon puts it.
But today, she feels a pit in her stomach. The heels she wears feel a little too tight, and the cheering from the other side of the wall makes the Latina want to cower from the world— go back to a life that felt simpler and kinder.
It was only a showcase performance—it wasn’t MAMA or another show on tour. The people out there waiting to see her are only half of what the usual is.
Daniela berates herself silently, fidgeting with her in-ear monitors once more to try and ground herself. It felt impossible, though.
The comments online are starting to get to her more than she’d like to admit. Every day, there was something new circulating about the Daniela Avanzini, and some days, she wished she could erase the brand she had somehow curated for herself against her will.
A boy she’s been seeing sits in the front row. He isn’t her soulmate, but he helps her feel stable.
He isn’t you. And that makes life so much easier, Daniela justifies.
But Daniela knows, deep down, that right now she needs more than stable.
She needs you.
Daniela steps into the hallway of the backstage area, pulling her phone out of the tight skirt she’d be wearing for the next few hours.
With trembling hands, she finds your text thread.
Without a second beat, you respond, as if you knew Daniela needed your rescue.
You and Daniela sit outside on her balcony in your usual silence. Even though she doesn’t say a word to you, you know she hangs onto every word you say.
She stares at you with attentive eyes, so soft you wonder how the universe could create someone so beautiful. The shirt she wears is oversized and displays her birthmark, the one that belongs to you.
The urge to trace the letters against her skin, claim it once and for all, becomes stronger with every passing day.
Every time you’re around Daniela, you make sure to wear something that covers your own soul mark. You want the moment to be authentic. You’ve always imagined how it would go, and even if this was in none of the scenarios you’ve come up with, it’s exactly how you knew it would make you feel.
Everyone tells you how warm you are. The kindness you bring into the world makes the flowers bloom and mornings feel more bearable to persevere.
But you haven’t felt genuine warmth until meeting Daniela.
Waiting for the Latina to be ready to accept fate has been a harrowing task, especially now that it has been almost half a year since the revelation.
You’re convinced it’s worth it, though. You tell yourself that fate cannot be ignored, that whatever string pulls you both together will continue to do so despite Daniela’s clenched fists.
She has to see it one day. A part of you hopes that she already does.
You look up at the sky, the stars twinkling bright specifically for you and Daniela. The universe knows, the cosmos whispers about it from time to time, and they all come together, leaning closer to see if Daniela will finally say her end of the deal that seals both your fates forever.
Every time you look at the Latina and see her looking back at you, her eyes tell you more than what real words can convey. There’s a shine in them, a mixture of uncertainty and a bit of fear, yet gentle.
You hold your hand out to her, a slight smile on your lips. “The stars are trying to tell us something, you know?”
She tilts her head in that adorable way she always does when she’s confused by something you’ve said. It’s as if you speak in riddles, and she uses it as an excuse to prove that it isn’t you and her in the end.
But when she takes your hand and allows you to pull her to her feet, you’re more than certain she knew exactly what you were trying to say.
Bravery finds you underneath the LA skyline as you wrap your arms around Daniela’s waist. As if on instinct, she loops hers around your neck, and for a brief moment, you’re willing to settle for this.
When she rests her head against your chest, you wonder if this is her way of putting the sword down. Perhaps, she has stripped herself of her armor and is finally giving into what was right in front of her this entire time.
Your chest burns, and every part of your body feels on fire as she holds you closer.
But nothing is said between you two.
Not even you have the words– you feel as though you’ve said enough.
Daniela’s thoughts run wild, though.
‘Wonder’
‘Wish’
‘Where’
‘Wait’
Something about that night scared Daniela shitless.
She lets the boy she’s been seeing pour her another shot.
Whiskey starts with a ‘W.’
Daniela lets it burn her throat without a second thought.
But it doesn’t burn the same way whenever she’s with you.
‘Wait’
‘Wait’
‘Wait’
‘Wait for me.’
It was a party Lara invited you to.
The only reason you came though was to see Daniela, even though she had been ignoring you for two weeks.
It feels like the beginning all over again. She avoids your eyes and ignores you on breaks. Every text message goes unanswered, and the worst part of it all is that it is all out of your control.
You feel tears start to brim in your eyes when you watch Daniela on the dance floor, smiling and laughing, allowing the boy she’s been seeing to touch her in ways that you haven’t been allowed to. The birthmark on her arm is there, as if she were showing it off, loud and proud, for everyone else to see.
But it doesn’t belong to him. And maybe, it doesn’t belong to you either after all.
You excuse yourself from your friends, telling them you needed to use the bathroom. Tears stream down your face as you push past the crowds of people, your heart aching at the thought of being wrong. By the time you get to the bathroom, you place your hands onto the sink, bracing yourself as you try to catch your breath. When you look up at the mirror, you can’t help but watch as your lip trembles.
Your hand reaches into your jacket pocket, urgently taking your phone out to text the only person on your mind.
You put your phone back into your pocket, looking one last time in the mirror before taking a deep breath. You open the door to exit the bathroom to find Daniela, but you take an immediate step back when you see her already there, as if she had been waiting outside for you the entire time.
You open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off, finally answering a question that has been lingering between you both for months, for far too long.
“Walk away,” She tells you, her eyes narrowed, guarded. There’s a bite in her words, and you know it’s meant to be a threat. For Daniela, it’s what cuts the fragile thread that holds you both together.
For you, it seals what you’ve already known this entire time.
You hold your arm up, your birthmark visible to her eyes.
She looks at it, and her eyes widen in realization. When she looks up at you, there’s a bittersweet smile on your lips. You let out a dry chuckle and shake your head, “I always wondered how this interaction would go…” You tilt your head and sigh.
The Latina opens and closes her mouth, trying to find something to say. However, despite how much your skin burns, despite the words on your arm begging to be seen, you can only shake your head in silent defeat.
You look at the girl, and she tries to reach out to you, but you take a step back.
“Figure it out, Dani.”
‘Coincidence’
A word that intimidates fate and destiny.
The universe hears this word, and they frown in disgust. They feel mocked— disgusted even.
Nothing is ever a coincidence.
Everything, out of love, is done by fate.
The invisible string is what the theorists call it.
The push and pull of love, the entanglement of finding others along the way before meeting the person you’ve been bonded with for the rest of your life; the explanation for why it’s never a coincidence to meet your soulmate at the time that you did.
This red string—despite being invisible —is the reason your chest feels so tight some days. It might sound ridiculous, but the farther away you are, the looser it feels. But when you are only steps away, your whole body starts to burn.
Your wrists feel tethered, your chest squeezes in knots. This string aches for you to walk closer, to step inside the space that’s been made for you before you were even born.
Carefully calculated, curated from star dust, is you and your person. Made from the same stars that have sacrificed themselves to meet in another life.
a/n: n here is the second part! pls lmk what u guys think of it all together ahhh :) this was fun to make n i hope u all enjoyed!!!!
