Just here for sdv love

❝so here's my heart for you if you want it it's got a couple bruises on it sometimes it breaks down and it doesn't work quite right, but you bring it back to life❞

–Here's My Heart, SayWeCanFly

Hadley stared at the jar of marbles sitting on her kitchen window sill. The marbles reflected and refracted the light, sending blue-green streaks spiraling in fractured designs across her kitchen table. She ran an idle finger across one of the beams, humming.

A half-cold coffee sat on the table beside her. It had been intended to be a mid-afternoon pick-me-up, but it had done little to help her shifting mood.

It had been a little over a week since she and Seb had first kissed, and Seb had spent nearly every night since in bed beside her. They hadn’t even done anything that couldn’t be included in a PG-13 movie. They just… slept. Curled against each other and went to bed with the comfort and security of knowing the other was there. Already, there was another tooth brush beside hers in the cup by her bathroom sink.

But even as Hadley was at the happiest she’d felt in years, it was a daily struggle to escape the kernel of dread that sat like a weight in her stomach.

In her worst moments, she found herself stuck in the memory of catching Andrew cheating on her. She walked into her bedroom in their stuffy Zuzu apartment to see him shirtless, his hands buried in the hair of a blonde woman she’d later find out lived on the first floor. But then the memory would shift, and Andrew would morph into Seb, and an icy jolt would fire through her brain and her pulse would spike and her lungs would betray their natural instinct to breathe.

Her therapist told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had trust issues. It didn’t come as a surprise.

As an exercise, her therapist had suggested she picture a jar, and every time Seb did something to show that he cared about her or followed through with something he said he would do, she should visualize adding another marble to the jar. Except Hadley struggled to picture the mental jar, and she remembered finding an old set of marbles in the hall closet once while cleaning, and so she’d turned the mental exercise into a physical one.

It had only been a week since she’d started the collection, and the jar was nearly full. It calmed her to look at it.

Deep down, though, she knew there was another source to her anxiety — one that couldn’t be solved with mental exercises alone. 

She took out her phone and scrolled down through her messages before she found the thread she was looking for.

Hadley: hey

Hadley: are you doing anything tonight?

She held her breath as she hit send. She stared at the message, reading and rereading it, and waited for the bubble to change to read.

A minute later, it did. But no typing indicator appeared.

She swallowed. She kept telling herself that she shouldn’t be nervous, but the reminder did nothing to quell the anxiety budding in her stomach. She took a sip of her lukewarm coffee and stared out the window instead.

A few minutes later, her phone vibrated, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Sam: Hey!

Sam: Not that I know of. Why, what’s up?

Hadley bit the corner of her lip.

Hadley: would you wanna grab a drink at the saloon?

Hadley: maybe like 5ish?

Yet again, the message flipped to read and stayed there. The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, and then appeared again. It was a full three minutes before the reply came in.

Sam: Yeah sure. Just the two of us, or…?

Hadley: if that’s okay! Just wanted to catch up

Sam: Okay, yeah. Sounds fun.

Hadley stood and dumped the dredges of her coffee into the sink. Five o’clock was an unnerving amount of hours away, but she had more than enough work to do to fill it. She might as well burn off the nervous energy.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Hadley got to the Saloon earlier than she needed to, but she had felt too restless sitting in her kitchen and watching the clock, waiting for the acceptable time to leave.  Now, she was sitting at the bar in the Saloon instead. A fresh cider stood on a napkin beside her, brought over by Emily without her even needing to ask. The napkin was beginning to disintegrate from the condensation, and Hadley watched another bead of sweat drip down the side of the glass.

She fiddled with the hem of her sweatshirt in her lap.

The door to the Saloon jingled, and a shadow appeared over her left shoulder.

“Hey.” Sam sat down on the stool next to her. 

He’d only been sitting for a few seconds before Emily arrived, placing down two coasters, a glass of water, and a fresh beer. Sam grinned at her.

“What if I wanted something different?” he asked.

Emily snorted. “Then you’d order it and drink both.”

He laughed. “Touche.”

“Can I get you anything to eat?” she asked. “Fries? Burgers?”

“Just drinks is fine,” Hadley said. The words had to drag themselves out of her throat.

“Alright. Well, holler if you need me.” She slung her bar towel over her shoulder and wandered back down to the other side of the bar, where Shane was nursing a beer.

With Sam here, Hadley finally reached for her glass and took a hefty sip. She could use some liquid courage.

Sam took a sip of his own drink. “So, what’s up?” he asked.

“Just… wanted to get out of the house, I guess,” Hadley said. “And I hadn’t seen you in awhile.”

He nodded. “How’s the farm? Getting along well with the change of seasons?”

“Yeah, actually. You should come by sometime. I don’t think you’ve seen it since the barn was built. I have all kinds of animals now.” She took another sip of her drink and suppressed a smile. “Abi even made me name a cow after her.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is she aware that’s kind of an insult to herself?”

Hadley nearly choked on her drink when she laughed. “I hadn’t looked at it like that.” She wiped her mouth with the side of a napkin. “How are you?”

Sam shrugged. “Same old, mostly. But I’ve been talking with Gunther about maybe going to work for the museum.”

Hadley blinked at him. “What?” she asked. “That’s amazing.”

“I have a history degree,” he said. “Just, with this job market, I’ve never really had the chance to do anything with it. But I guess they just had a bunch of donations from some guy out in the desert, and Gunther needs help cataloging everything, so…” He gave another small shrug. “It’s better than the JoJa gig, and it’s something I actually kind of care about.”

“That’s great!” Hadley said. “I’m proud of you.”

Sam smiled. For a moment, she could remember how the version of herself from last spring had felt towards Sam, and how she’d delighted when that smile was directed at her.

But she thought she understood it now. Sam was easy to talk to, and after everything that had happened, she’d been desperate for kindness, desperate for someone to actually pay attention to her. He’d fulfilled that need at a time where she felt like she might disappear without it. 

She did love Sam, but in the same way she had grown to love Abi. And sitting next to him now… she realized that, though she knew she had once loved kissing him, she could no longer find that version of her inside herself. When she tried to picture what it had been like to kiss Sam, she struggled to keep the memory in place. It would bleed instead to another memory of another night, with another guy, and another set of lips against hers.

She took another sip of her drink, mulling over her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The words sat in the air for a long moment. “I don’t know if I ever said that.”

Sam paused mid sip and put his drink back down. He turned his body to face her. “What?” he asked.

Hadley toyed with her fingers in her lap and stared at a random corner behind the bar. “I know I kind of led you on, in the spring. I didn’t mean to. I was dealing with so much at the time, and it was unfair to you how I handled it. Which isn’t an excuse, but… I just thought you should know. I really am sorry.”

Hadley made herself look at him, bracing for his face to be twisted in disappointment or worse, anger. But his eyes were gentle.

“It’s okay, Hadley,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not mad about it. I’m probably just as much at fault for all of it as you were. I should have listened more and not tried to force you into something you weren’t ready for.”

“You weren’t forcing me.”

“Maybe, but you still don’t need to apologize. You didn’t actually do anything wrong.”

“I just…” She trailed off. Beneath the lights of the Saloon, she felt overly warm, and the cider probably wasn’t helping. She visualized the next words she wanted to say, and her stomach tightened. Her mouth went painfully dry. She took a sip of water in the hopes that it would help. It didn’t. “There’s… something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Because this was part of what was holding her back; this last line in the sand she would need to cross. But, she thought, maybe it was possible to build a bridge over it instead.

Sam waited. For once, he didn’t rush her.

“I…” Hadley started. She forced herself to look at him, hoping it would help the words to come, but they were still lodged in her throat.

Sam tilted his head, studying her. The corner of his mouth quirked.

“Ah,” he said.

The word pulled Hadley out of her panic-induced concentration. “What?”

Sam dipped the tip of his finger in the condensation that had collected on the bar and drew it into a lazy circle. “Would it be rude of me to try and guess?”

“Guess?” Hadley echoed.

“What it is you’re trying to say.” He looked up at her and cringed. “Sorry, I’m trying to work on not being so… direct, sometimes.”

“You’re fine,” Hadley said. “Just, what are you…?”

“My guess,” he started, choosing his words carefully, “is that you asked me here because you finally managed to figure out that Seb likes you — a fact that I think you were the only person blind to, somehow — and now you’re worried you need my permission because you don’t want to upset me.”

“I…” Whatever Hadley was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. She pulled back an inch. “What?”

He gave her a gentle smile, and the lines by his eyes crinkled. “Am I wrong?”

Hadley studied him, her eyes flicking back and forth between each of his, struggling to piece together something from the expression that lingered there. She suddenly felt uncomfortably close to tears, but she swallowed them back. When she spoke, her voice came out low and scratchy. “No.”

Sam nodded to himself. He took a musing sip of his drink. “I was kind of wondering how long it would take.”

“How did you…?”

“Seb has been my best friend for nearly three decades. But even then, it took me… an honestly embarrassing amount of time to realize he liked you.”

Hadley’s cheeks colored. That, at least, she could relate to.

Sam continued. “You, I wasn’t as sure about. Not until the other night, when you finally beat him in pool.”

She looked across the Saloon to the pool table. Seb had picked her up and twirled her around after she finally secured that win. It had happened so fast, so genuinely, that she had barely thought twice about it. She’d figured Abi had teased her about it because, well, it was Abi. But now she tried to look at the memory from everyone else’s point of view, and she saw the things she herself had been too in denial to notice. Seb’s hand on the square of her lower back, the brightness of his wide smile that seemed only reserved for her, the lilt of both of their laughs echoing across the Saloon. She was so used to that version of Seb that she’d forgotten it was a side of him the rest of Pelican Town didn’t really know.

It made sense to her that Robin had noticed; she was his mother. It just hadn’t really occurred to her that half the town would see them and draw their own conclusions.

She took a steadying breath, trying to quell the anxiety that thought gave her.

“The way you looked at him,” Sam continued, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You just looked… happy. And I’ll tell you what I told him: I don’t want to be the reason you won’t let yourself be happy.”

Hadley’s heart skipped a beat, but not because Sam was seemingly giving her the confirmation she needed; it was because Seb never mentioned he had talked to Sam about any of this. 

It shouldn’t surprise her that he had — he and Sam had been friends for decades, after all. It also shouldn’t surprise her that Seb wouldn’t bring it up to her himself. Besides the few sentences they’d shared at the lake the night they’d first kissed, they’d done little more to talk about what they felt or what they were doing. They’d settled into a quiet companionship consisting of morning coffee, continued Buffy marathons, and late night conversations about anything and everything. Everything, that is, except their feelings. It didn’t worry her, though, not the way it might have with someone else. 

She knew Seb well enough to know that he wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Talking about emotions was not something that came easily to him, so it was surprising that he had talked about her with anyone at all. Part of her was proud of him for it. She couldn’t tell if the other half felt honored or terrified.

She knew that whatever was starting between her and Seb was serious — they’d both said as much that night by the lake. It was why she was here, trying to explain that to Sam. Yet Seb, at some point, already had?

It made everything feel so much more real. It made the way Seb felt about her feel so much more real.

“He… talked to you about it?” Hadley asked.

Sam set down his drink. “Ah, um… that’s one way to phrase it.”

Hadley raised her eyebrows and waited.

“I figured it out back when you and I were…” Sam trailed off and waved a hand, “involved. And admittedly, I, uh, probably could have handled it better.” At this, his cheeks took on a hint of pink. “Seb and I didn’t really speak for a few weeks. When we did… it started out as more of an argument than an actual conversation. I… kind of cornered him and made him admit it.”

“See, that makes more sense than him admitting it outright.”

Sam’s mouth quirked. “But really, don’t worry about me. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Hadley stared at the mostly-empty glass in front of her. Something deep in her bones felt like it had finally settled.

Beside her, her phone lit up with a new text message from Seb, asking if she wanted to watch Buffy again tonight.

She smiled at the message, and when she turned back to look at Sam, he was smiling too.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Hadley woke to the feeling that the light in her bedroom was all wrong — much too bright and hitting the wrong corner of the wall. She knew immediately that she had overslept.

When she’d first moved to the farm, she’d kept herself to a fairly rigid schedule of waking up at six, but when her insomnia returned, her sleep schedule had disintegrated, and so did any hopes of sticking to that schedule. Often, she was still awake when six o’clock finally rolled around, or she had otherwise only fallen asleep an hour before. 

Now that she was actually sleeping again, she’d been setting her alarm and rediscovering what it felt like to see the other side of those morning hours. She was used to seeing the barest trickle of light hitting her bedroom wall when she woke, not enough sun to light the entire room.

She sat with a start and grabbed her phone. It was past ten already. She’d lost so much daylight.

The bed beside her was empty. It shouldn’t have upset her — it was already ten, so it was no surprise that Seb probably needed to leave — but she couldn’t fight the latent desire that he would have at least texted or woken her up to say goodbye. 

With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed and changed into some clothes she wouldn’t mind getting dirty. 

When she walked into the kitchen, she was hit with the smell of fresh coffee. For a moment, all she could do was stand there like an idiot until the surprise wore off. She wandered over to the counter, and there, in the same place she had left them for Seb last week, was a mug and a note of his own.

Don’t hate me (you’re going to hate me) but you slept through your initial alarm and I turned it off to let you sleep. You’ve been working so hard lately, you deserve the extra rest. I’ve got it covered. Enjoy your morning. X Seb

Hadley had to read the note twice before it settled with her. He was right that her initial reaction was something between annoyed and frustrated — there was a never-ending list of things to do on the farm, and even if she did need the extra sleep, what did it matter? 

But then her eyes scanned back over the words “I’ve got it covered”. And then she heard the music.

She opened the front door, and there he was, out in the fields with a speaker playing 2000s emo as he tugged weeds from a line of crops and threw them into a bucket that was already overflowing with them.

She hadn’t had her coffee yet and was still half asleep. She had no idea what the hell she was meant to do about this.

She threw open the screen door and hurried over to him.

Seb looked up at her as she approached, one hand cupping his eyes to block out the sun. He stood and brushed the dirt from his hands.

“Good morning.”

“What are you doing?” Hadley demanded.

“Weeding.”

“Seb-”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But you’re going to overwork yourself and burn out if you’re not careful. And you just started sleeping again. I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“The water troughs are refilled, the barns are raked out, the crops are watered, and I’m nearly finished with weeding out everything.”

Hadley’s heart hurt. She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to be. Every day, he found new ways to show her how much he cared about her, and she didn’t know what to do with them. He was right that she was overworking herself, right that she should be careful about her sleeping schedule when she had only just started to get it back under control. And yet…

The anger in her voice faded. It dropped to something quieter. “You don’t have to do all that,” she said.

“I know. I want to.”

“It’s my responsibility,” Hadley said. “You’re my boyfriend, not some farmhand I hired.”

She realized her mistake the moment the corner of Seb’s mouth quirked. It spread quickly into a crooked grin.

“I’m your what?”

Hadley’s cheeks burned beneath the morning sun. “You know what I mean,” she said. “You just… don’t need to be doing actual physical labor on my behalf.”

“Got it, got it.” He nodded to himself. “So you don’t want me to be your boyfriend.”

“That’s not-”

“No, no. I understand,” he said, his tone lilting. “I know when I’m not wanted, and I can just see myself out.”

He took a step past her. Hadley grabbed his wrist.

“Seb.”

He turned to her, waiting.

“I…” Hadley started.

Seb raised his eyebrows.

She was burning. Her cheeks, her neck, her ears — everything was red hot and causing her to overheat. Her throat was desperately dry and swallowing was near impossible, but Yoba, he was going to make her say it. 

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Hadley said, her voice small.

Seb stilled. For a moment, all he did was stare at her.

“What?” he asked.

Hadley thought he was just teasing her, forcing her to repeat it, but then she saw the look on his face and realized he seemed as dumbfounded as she felt.

He… doesn’t believe me, does he?

She took in a breath and stepped towards him. “I want you,” she said again, “to be my boyfriend.”

He kissed her.

His hands were caked with dirt from the morning he’d spent at the farm, but she found she didn’t mind as he pulled her against him. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers. One hand lifted to the back of her neck and tugged her even closer.

A low groan escaped the back of Seb’s throat, and Hadley answered it with one of her own. She was dizzy with disbelief and lust and a lack of oxygen. 

She pulled away with a soft gasp and rested her forehead against his. She breathed in the smell of him mixed with the smell of the earth.

“I… never thought I would actually hear you say that,” he whispered.

“Well, it’s true.”

Seb pulled away just far enough to meet her gaze. “You are… unreal,” he said, his tone reverent.

“And,” Hadley said, “I think, I’m also your girlfriend.”

Seb laughed, warm and thick with happiness. Hadley could live forever off the sound of that laugh.

❝if you knew how much i loved you would it all excite you or would you run away?❞

-I Could Stare At You For Hours, The Happy Fits

Hadley lay against Seb’s chest, curled up beneath a blanket on her bed, as another episode of Buffy played on the TV on her dresser. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her, if a little fast, and though it was early for them — only a little past ten — she felt the gentle, repetitive beat of it begin to lull her to sleep.

There was just something about him.

On the TV, the end credits began to roll, and Seb shifted to look at her. He hooked a lock of hair beneath his finger and pushed it out of her face.

“Tired?” he asked, his voice low.

She looked up at him. His face was soft and honest, and maybe Robin had been right — there was a lightness to him now that she wasn’t sure she’d fully seen before. 

“A little,” she admitted. She was used to crushes feeling like this nerve-wracking, soul-shattering, life-ending thing, but instead, she just felt… safe. 

“I can head home,” Seb said. “Let you sleep.”

Hadley’s eyebrows furrowed. 

Seb hesitated. “What?” he asked.

“I…” Hadley began. After all of this, and he was still this dense?  She pushed herself up and propped her elbow up beneath her. “You can… stay.”

“Unlike when you come to watch Buffy, I’m not wearing pajamas. I’m in jeans.”

Hadley’s face heated before the thought even finished forming. “You could…”

Seb waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, the corner of his mouth quirked, and he leaned in a fraction of an inch. “I could… what?”

She met his gaze, her face burning. But she saw the pink reflected back at her in his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

She buried her head in his chest so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Shut up,” she said. “You just… you can take the jeans off, if you want.”

There was another pause. She could feel his chest move as he took in a breath.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked.

She pulled back an inch, and before she could second guess herself, tugged his mouth down to hers. Seb let out a small gasp, and she swallowed it greedily.

“No,” she murmured into his lips. But she knew he could feel the smile on her face when he kissed her.

When he pulled away, his face was even redder than before, but his eyes were shining.

“I was just checking,” he said.

Hadley smirked.

Seb slipped out of bed, and Hadley looked away from him, focusing instead on the TV, which had bounced back to the title screen. She watched the animation loop and tried to ignore the metallic click as Seb unlatched his belt. She heard the brush of fabric and a small thunk as his jeans and belt hit the floor.

She swallowed, her cheeks heating.

He said nothing as he slid back into bed beside her. Only once he pulled the covers back across them did she dare to look at him again. His face was raw and honest, and it was a struggle not to kiss him again because she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and she didn’t want to rush things. Not with him.

She curled up against his side and rested her head back against his chest. He was warm and comfortable and everything she had ever wanted in another person without realizing it.

Seb wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer. He pressed a kiss against her temple, and Hadley let her eyes flutter shut.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Hadley woke sometime after dawn. She was facing the window of her bedroom, but she could feel Seb behind her — a steady weight against her back. He had his arm thrown protectively around her middle. His breath formed a steady song as it fanned across the back of her neck, and it took everything in her not to stay in bed just a little longer.

But the farm was her livelihood, and she had things to do.

Slowly, she lifted up the heavy weight of his arm and slid out from under it. He stirred slightly, his eyelids flickering, before he settled back into sleep. Hadley watched him for a moment. He looked so peaceful, hair sprawled across his forehead, his face soft and unmarred by worries. She pushed away the desire to kiss him awake and forced herself to walk into the kitchen.

She had things to do, and unfortunately, the half-naked emo boy in her bed could wait.

Not that phrasing it like that to herself helped. At all.

She sighed and got to work.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Seb drifted awake sometime after ten. He blinked a few times as he woke, his sleep-addled brain trying to remember where he was and why. The pieces slammed back together in startling clarity, and he sat up, his heart stuttering.

But the bed was empty beside him.

He stared at the rumpled sheets where Hadley had slept, and his thoughts drifted in and out of focus. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was awake and not in the middle of a dream. It all felt too surreal — that he was here, in her bed, and that the night before had actually happened.

He’d kissed her.

But it was more than that.

He could hear her voice so clearly in his mind, see the way she’d been afraid to meet his gaze, even as the words came out rushed and nervous.

This would be real for me.

He’d never allowed himself to think this far, never allowed himself to consider a world where things could actually work out. He felt like a walking contradiction — somehow both knocked off kilter and more steady than he’d ever been.

He stood and searched for his hoodie, but it was nowhere to be found, so he pulled his jeans back on and headed into the kitchen.

It was, predictably, empty. But the smell of freshly-brewed coffee filled the air, and there was a mug set beside the coffee maker. He approached it.

A sticky note sat beside it, written out with Hadley’s flowing script.

Morning :)  I’m out working the farm. Help yourself to coffee and whatever food you’d like. You’re welcome to hang around, but no worries if you can’t. ♡ Hadley

He folded the note with more precision than necessary and slipped it inside the front pocket of his wallet.

He made his coffee and stepped out into the morning chill. The brisk air felt good against his skin. The sun cast a pleasant light across the front porch, and he stood there a moment, letting it warm his skin.

He’d spent the vast majority of his life living beneath this same sky, and yet the air felt changed, somehow. He was so used to the damp chill of his basement bedroom, of living mostly in the hours after the sun had already set because it meant he didn’t have to deal with the judgment of every soul in this town. He was used to over-working himself to line his pockets with money to run away, only to second-guess himself every time his mom asked about his future plans with a nervous tilt to her voice. He’d always viewed the Valley as too small — a forgotten corner of the world that was good for nothing except getting out of one day.

But he stood here now, the steam from his coffee rising up to meet his face, and for once, it didn’t seem so hard to breathe.

He was struck with the thought that maybe the Valley itself had never really been the problem. 

It wasn’t like having a shithole apartment in Zuzu with three roommates and a soulless corporate job was a big life goal of his; he’d just been desperate to shake the monotony of his endless days in the Valley, desperate to feel anything but empty all the time. And maybe that was also part of why he had never been able to make himself leave — it was easier to cling onto the daydream of a better life than actually move to Zuzu and learn the truth; that the Valley wasn’t the problem.

He was.

It wasn’t the Valley he was trying to outrun, but his own shadow. 

Whatever weight had been crushing his chest all these years didn’t feel as suffocating anymore. And maybe he should finally listen to Abi and go to therapy for the first time in his goddamn life, but… the thought of doing that didn’t feel as terrifying anymore, either.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked out at the farm — the rows and rows of neat plots, damp from the newly-installed sprinklers; the barn, coop, and silo with his mother’s handiwork written all over them, standing tall against the fields; the carefully-laid stone paths and freshly-painted fences. 

Years ago, he’d stood where he was standing now with Abi and Sam and passed joints back and forth as they looked out at the overgrown land. He tried to call forth a mental image of the farm as it looked back then, or even how it looked this time last year, but he found that he couldn’t.

Hadley had rebuilt so much with little more than brute determination, and if she could do that to the farm, why couldn’t he do the same to his life?

He finished the rest of his coffee and set the mug aside. He headed out onto the farm.

A small hatch was open on the side of the barn, and Seb ducked his way inside. 

Hadley was refilling the water trough, holding the hose in one hand and stroking the muzzle of one of her cows with the other. She was speaking to it in a low, soothing voice. His stomach did a small, pathetic tilt when he realized she had put his hoodie back on.

Ah. That would be why he couldn’t find it.

He leaned against the wall of the barn and watched her for a moment. Dirt marred the knees of her jeans, and there was a smear of it across her cheek. Her bangs clung to her forehead from sweat, and multiple strands of hair had come loose from her bun. She must have been awake and working for a few hours already, but she didn’t show any signs of tiring. Her face was bright and she was smiling from ear-to-ear at her cow. She just looked… happy.

She turned the hose off and returned it to its place on the wall. When she reached to grab a hay bale, Seb pushed himself off the wall.

He got there a beat before she did and reached around her to pick it up.

Hadley jumped.

“Yoba,” she hissed, taking in several breaths. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Where do you want this?”

Hadley pointed. “Where you see mostly-eaten pile of hay over there.”

Grunting slightly from the weight of the hay, Seb lugged it across the barn and deposited it where Hadley had indicated. He smacked his hands a few times to shake the dirt from them.

“Good morning,” he said.

Hadley looked up at him, and when she met his gaze, her cheeks turned pink.

“Hi,” she said.

Seb took a few steps towards her. “How did you sleep?”

“I…” she paused, and Seb got the distinct impression that she was debating if she should say something or not. “I always sleep better, with you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d been unconscious by eleven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep that early, let alone slept fully through the night.

“Me too,” he said, his voice low. Without meaning to, his eyes flickered down to her mouth. He’d spent so many months barely daring to imagine kissing her, and now that he actually could, he was torn between wanting to kiss her every chance he got and being afraid of overwhelming her. There was a part of him that was still terrified she might change her mind.

Hadley leaned in an inch, then two, before she pulled away. 

Seb’s heart hammered wildly in his chest. A seed of fear took root in his stomach.

But Hadley took a step back and motioned at herself, her cheeks turning a shade of red that Seb was beginning to love. “I’ve been working all morning.”

“So?” he asked.

“I’m gross,” Hadley said.

Seb snorted and it turned into a laugh. He took a step forwards and kissed her.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Seb’s mouth crashed into hers. 

For a moment, all Hadley felt was panic. She probably smelled like cow, and she was covered in dirt and sweat and Yoba knows what else. She had hoped to finish up her work and take a shower before he woke up, because there was a part of her that was terrified he’d see what working on a farm was really like and be disgusted by it — be disgusted by her.

But instead he’d just laughed and kissed her.

He tasted like coffee and sleep. And once the initial panic faded, she pulled him tighter against her and kissed him like she was drowning and he was the only air left in the world.

When they finally parted, Seb rested his forehead against hers and let out a small laugh.

“What?” Hadley asked.

Seb shook his head, wordless. “Just… you.”

“Me?”

He pulled away just far enough for Hadley to see the glow that filled his eyes. He raised a gentle hand to cup her face and ran his thumb along her cheek. He gave her a soft kiss.

“You.”

Behind them, Hadley’s cow — the one she had jokingly named Abigail, at her friend’s insistence — let out a loud, prolonged low.

Hadley snorted.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Seb’s hand and tugging him towards the door of the barn.

“What else do you need to do?” Seb asked as they stepped back out into the sunlight. “How can I help?”

Hadley stopped walking. “What?”

“How can I help?” Seb repeated.

“You…” she started. “What?”

Seb smiled. The sun turned the tips of his hair golden and lit the planes of his face. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at.

His voice dropped into something soft. “Let me help,” he said.

Hadley stared at him a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between each of his eyes and the adoring expression that was held within them. She swallowed.

She hated asking for help. She was so used to doing everything herself, always. It was so much easier that way. So much easier than having to trust other people to do things for her, because why would they?

But she wasn’t asking — Seb was offering.

She took in a deep breath and held it, letting it settle something deep within her. She cracked a small smile.

“Okay,” she said. She grabbed his hand again and tugged him along. “I need to pack some produce into crates before the truck comes this afternoon.”

Seb’s hand tightened around hers and gave a reassuring squeeze.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Hadley pulled on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She finished tying the ends of her wet hair into a braid as she walked back into the living room.

“Shower is all yours,” she said.

Seb nodded and brushed past her in the hall. The bathroom door closed behind him, and a moment later, the shower turned on.

Only twenty-four hours ago, she was standing in this same spot, fresh out of the shower, getting ready to go over to his house for dinner. It was dizzying how much had happened since then — how much had changed.

She thought back to the night before, sitting by the lake, and the moment Seb leaned in and kissed her. Her pulse quickened at the mere thought of kissing him, as if it wasn’t something she had done several times since then.

Yoba, she was so pathetically head-over-heels for that man.

She thought she’d had it bad before, but kissing him had only made it worse. She was a bundle of live wires now, a mess of loose energy with nowhere to go.

She closed her eyes and remembered the feeling of her palm flat against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath her touch.

It has always been real for me.

It was easy to look back on all their stolen moments and see the truth of those words. Easy enough that she wondered if she’d been blind.

But had she been? Or had she willingly pulled the wool over her own eyes?

One moment kept coming back to her. She’d thumbed over it so often the past few weeks, but now she looked at it through a different lens.

She saw herself, reaching up to wipe the motor oil and dirt from Seb’s face. It had been the first time she’d been close enough to see the gold in his eyes and the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. She’d steadied herself on his arm, and he’d grown still beneath her touch.

She always remembered him stepping back abruptly. But the shame and judgment she remembered feeling afterwards had never been from him; she’d cast that onto herself.

Now, instead, she remembered the look in his eyes in that moment, and how unsteady he’d been on his feet in the moments after.

It all hit her then.

He’d fixed her car. Left a date and drove to come get her when she got stranded on the side of the road. Took a punch to the face for her while beating up her asshole ex. Time after time again, he was always there, showing up when she needed him. Just like this morning, she had never really had to ask; he was always stepping up, willing to help.

Her eyes watered. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice Seb until he was standing right in front of her.

“Hads?” he asked.

His brows were tilted in concern, and she almost said it then. The words floated on the crease of her lips.

She threw her arms around his neck instead, tugging him into a tight hug. She buried her head against his chest.

❝kiss me under the light of a thousand stars place your head on my beating heart❞

-Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran

----

Hadley sipped idly at a cup of tea and turned the page of the journal entry she’d been writing — both suggestions from her old therapist.

She’d gotten back in touch with her this morning, only to learn that she was no longer accepting new clients and didn’t have space for her. But not wanting to leave Hadley to the wolves, she’d offered up a few tips for self-reflection and self-care and gotten Hadley in touch with a colleague of hers who was accepting new clients. The first appointment opening was weeks away, but it was a start. It was progress.

Between her conversation with Abi and actually scheduling a therapy appointment, Hadley was starting to feel a bit lighter — but only slightly. Her thoughts were still piled in heaps she did not have the energy to begin pulling apart. That’s what the journal was meant to be for, but there were some thoughts she was still struggling to voice on paper.

Talking to Abi had been easier. The words were there and gone, taken by the wind. But there was something awfully real about seeing the words written out in pen.

So she wrote about the farm, and her grandfather, and her parents, and how different the Valley was from the city. She wrote about her new life here and how for the first time, she felt like she was building something good.

She put the pen down and stared at her jumbled handwriting.

It had been a few days since she had seen Seb, and while she wasn’t avoiding him, she wasn’t actively seeking him out either. She was terrified that, having now voiced the thought to Abi, Seb would be able to see it written across her face. And she wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

Abi had been quick to tell her that hiding was no better than running — but even if she was right… Hadley was taking it one day at a time.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She shut her journal and carried the mug of tea with her to the door.

She had half-expected it to be Abi — her friend had been making an effort to check in on her daily, though it had mostly been through texts. But instead of Abi, Seb stood on her front step, like Yoba himself was mocking her.

She schooled her features and made a show of glancing at the clock.

“I think it’s four PM,” she said. “Not AM. You’ve got your times mixed up.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.”

There was a nervousness to him that was not helping sate her own. Hadley gripped the mug tighter in her fingers and shifted her weight between her feet.

“What?” she asked. “Your vibes are… weird. You’re freaking me out.”

“You sound like Abi. Anyways, I come bearing an apology and tragic news.”

She raised her eyebrows, unsure if she should laugh or be genuinely concerned.

“My mother,” he said, taking a large breath and looking at the sky, “has not so humbly requested your presence at dinner tonight.”

“She…” Hadley started. “She what?”

He sighed. “She has sent me to invite you to join us for dinner.”

“But… why?” Hadley asked.

“The hell if I know. Probably something to do with the ‘party’ she walked in on in the kitchen after the festival. Her words, not mine. But she got it in her head to invite you over and wouldn’t leave me alone until she practically shoved me out the door.”

“Like, a family dinner?”

“The whole shebang,” Seb said. “My mother, my sister. My dick of a step-father.”

“Oh, please no,” Hadley said.

“Unfortunately my orders were less of a ‘go invite Hadley over’ and more of a ‘go get Hadley and bring her here.’”

“She just assumed I’d say yes?”

“Do you… have other plans?” Seb asked.

Hadley’s cheeks colored. “No, I’m just…” She trailed off and motioned to herself, where she was still wearing last night’s pajamas. She huffed. “Ugh.”

Hadley stepped back into the kitchen and ripped open the fridge, riffling through its contents. Seb took a single step into the house and let the door close behind him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, so actually, the whole point is that we’ll be eating there,” he chided.

Hadley shot him a look. “I know. I just don’t have anything to bring.” Her fridge was overflowing with blueberries from the end of summer harvest — she’d sold the majority of them, but even then, she had more than she knew what to do with. Already she’d made a pie for Marnie, some jam for Elliott, gave Linus a whole basket, and froze a large carton to use in smoothies. She wished she had enough time to bake another pie, but she didn’t have any dough made.

She pulled out a carton of blueberries and then reached above the fridge for her grandmother’s cookbook. She flipped through the dessert section with alarming speed before stopping on a hand-written recipe for berry cobbler. Perfect.

She nearly forgot Seb was there until he spoke. “What are you doing?”

“Baking,” Hadley said. “Now can you make yourself useful and grab the sugar and flour from the cabinet to your left?”

“You really don’t have to bring anything,” Seb said. “My mom is cooking.” Despite the protests, he opened the cabinet drawer and rifled through it until he found what she’d asked for.

Hadley shot him yet another look. “You can’t just show up someplace empty-handed, Sebastian.”

He stopped what he was doing. “Sebastian?” he repeated. “Ouch.”

“Shut up and give me the flour, please.”

It took twenty minutes to prep — though it would have taken less, were it not for Seb spending half the time sassing her and making her pause what she was doing to bite back a sarcastic remark. Once she had the pan in the oven and set a timer, she wiped her sticky hands on her pajama pants.

“I need to shower,” she said. “Can you make sure the house doesn’t burn down in the meantime?

“You know, there were things I planned to do after inviting you over.”

She gave him a small shove and left the room to shower.

After a quick rinse, she threw on some mascara and eyeliner and pulled her hair back into a loose braid. She pulled a sun dress from her closet and ran the fabric between her thumb and forefinger for several moments before deciding it was probably trying too hard for a family dinner. She opted instead for a pair of black jeans and a loose-fitting long sleeve.

When she walked back into the living room, Seb was pulling the cobbler from the oven.

“Thank you,” she said.

He smiled in response and set it on top of the oven to cool before they headed over.

Dinner went about how Hadley had expected, though it was somehow both better and worse than she feared. Robin was all smiles and was overjoyed to have her join them, though the sentiment wasn’t exactly shared all around.

Demetrius was clearly trying to be polite, but then he’d asked Hadley what brought her to the Valley. After explaining that she had traded the corporate world for the farm and was therefore no longer utilizing her degree, Hadley had seen the shift in his features. She’d never considered herself to have his respect in the first place, yet she saw it drain from his eyes anyways.

Maru mercifully changed the topic, and the conversation continued on. Robin asked after the farm, Demetrius prattled on about his most recent experiment, and Seb watched it all through nervous eyes.

When they’d finished eating, the conversation lulled.

“How is your freelance work going this week?” Robin asked, turning towards Seb.

He shrugged. “Picked up a new client. And the bookstore I’d been helping reached out to-”

Demetrius scoffed. “Maru, were you able to collect those samples I asked you for?”

Hadley bristled. And though she knew she shouldn’t cause tension at someone else’s family dinner, she couldn’t help herself. She cleared her throat. “What about the bookstore?” she asked, a little louder than necessary.

Seb shifted. “Uh, they really liked the database I built them, and asked if I could take on another project for them.”

“That’s great!” Hadley said.

Demetrius looked like he might genuinely roll his eyes. “He needs a real job.”

“He has a real job.”

The statement was met by a terse silence. Hadley’s cheeks heated, but she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or anger causing it. She took a breath and forced herself to break the tension by changing the subject.

“The soup was delicious, Robin,” she said, softening the edge to her voice. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Robin smiled. “Thank you for coming. Shall we start getting dessert ready?”

It was a cleverly disguised excuse for her to walk away from Demetrius, but she would take it gladly. She lifted the napkin from her lap and placed it neatly on the table. She followed Robin to the kitchen.

Once there, she busied herself with the motions. She turned the oven on, pulled the lid off of the baking dish, and placed it in the oven to warm. Beside her, Robin set about washing some of the dishes from dinner.

“Can I help?” Hadley asked.

“Nonsense,” Robin said. “You’re our guest.”

But the anger still simmered within her, and Hadley needed something to busy her hands and siphon off the energy. She grabbed a dish towel and took a clean dish from Robin’s hand to dry.

“I don’t mind,” Hadley said. “Really. I’d rather help than stand here and watch.”

Robin smiled at her and handed over another dish to dry. They worked in tandem for a few minutes while the cobbler warmed up, quietly cleaning one dish after another.

Hadley got the sense that Robin was watching her, or otherwise grappling with something to say. She felt like a child waiting for her parent to scold her; surely Robin was about to admonish her for speaking to her husband like that. She’d barely raised her voice, and yet it sent her back to a childhood of slamming her bedroom door and screaming at her father through the walls.

Robin picked up another plate and ran it beneath the water.

“He’s different around you,” she said, her voice low.

Whatever Hadley had been expecting, it wasn’t that, and the words shocked her so much, she nearly dropped the plate she was holding. She set it to the side with a stiff hand.

“Oh,” she said, the word feeling clumsy in her mouth. It was a stupid thing to say, but her heart was hammering so badly that she was afraid to give voice to anything else.

Robin finished cleaning another plate and handed it over. “He’s lighter,” she said. “Happier. I’ve never seen someone bring out that side of him.”

Hadley’s cheeks burned. She focused all of her attention on drying the plate and returning it to its shelf.

Yoba, she should have expected this. She couldn’t keep sneaking in and out of this house in the dead of night and not expect Robin to notice. Robin noticed everything.

Robin shut the sink off and turned to her, giving Hadley no choice but to stop ignoring the weight of her gaze. She stepped forward and placed a motherly hand on Hadley’s cheek.

“You’re good for him,” Robin said.

As suddenly as the moment started, it ended. Robin stepped away and rehung the dish towel on its bar. She opened a drawer and pulled out an oven mitt to retrieve the cobbler.

And Hadley hadn’t said a damn thing besides “Oh.”

“We’re not…” Hadley started.

But Robin shot her a look that ended her sentence. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Hadley.” The scent of blueberries and crystallized sugar flooded the air as Robin pulled the cobbler from the oven. “Grab the ice cream and some bowls, will you?”

“I…” Hadley said. “Yes.”

Robin took the cobbler and rounded the corner back into the dining room, leaving Hadley alone in a kitchen that wasn’t her but was starting to feel like it, her heartbeat stuttering wildly in her chest.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

Seb spooned at the bottom of his bowl, collecting the last dredges of melted ice cream and cobbler crumbs. He lifted the spoon to his mouth and let the sweetness sit on his tongue, dissolving slowly. Fuck, that had been good.

He held the spoon in his mouth, savoring the last hints of flavor, until he glanced up and realizing Hadley was staring at him.

He put the spoon back in the bowl.

Yoba, he could barely look at her right now. It was one thing to hang out with her on his own, but to have her here? With his family? Asking Maru about the robot she was building, asking his mother how work on the community center roof was doing, hell, she’d even asked his damn step-father how his experiments were going. She made all of them smile and laugh like it was easy, as if every conversation he had with them himself didn’t feel like he had to line up each word carefully and fight for the smallest sliver of a smile.

And she did it in a way that even made him look good. She led the conversations and tugged him along with her, teeing him up for lines that even had Demetrius giving him a small nod of approval.

Until the end, when Demetrius had done what he always did and decided to be a dick. Except Hadley hadn’t just taken it — she’d stood up to Demetrius. He’d been so shocked, he’d barely been able to answer her question.

Whatever pieces he was missing, Hadley filled them so seamlessly. She fit here. With him, with his family. In a way he was terrified that even they noticed.

Whatever Hadley was, it was indescribable. But he was just so happy he got to stand in the warm glow she cast upon every room she entered.

Across from him, Hadley gathered her hands atop the table. One of her fingers twitched. Her eyes met his with a glimmer of conspiracy.

She stood from her chair and looped around the table. Her deft fingers wrapped around the top of his chair and she leaned down, her breath hot on his ear.

“Smoke?” she whispered.

The nearness of her, the way her breath traveled across his ear and down his neck, sent a shiver down his spine. When he stood, it was mostly just to shake the feeling. But still, he nodded.

She followed him out of the dining room.

“I gotta grab them,” he said, turning to head towards his room, but Hadley placed a hand on his arm and tugged him to a stop.

She walked to the front door, where her coat was hanging on a hook, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

I love you, he thought, equal parts joking and serious.

He followed her, matching her step for step, as they walked to the lake. She handed him a cigarette and lit her own before handing him the lighter.

Darkness had settled across the Valley at some point while they were eating. They came to a stop on the far side of the lake — the same place they used to run into each other sometimes, on their late night walks — and sat.

The first stars began to blink into life above them — and across from them, as well; small pools of light reflected back up from the lake.

“Thank you,” he said.

Hadley snorted. “I’ve bummed enough from you in the past.”

“No. For dinner.”

Hadley’s gaze flicked to his. “It was just dinner,” she said.

“It was more than that. We’ve had family dinners every Sunday since Demetrius first moved in. And every. single. one. has made me feel like I was dying a slow, painful death.” He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “Except that one.”

“I do make a mean cobbler,” she said.

Seb bumped his shoulder against hers, rolling his eyes.

“I would have made a better pie, though. Someone just didn’t give me enough warning.”

“It was perfect,” he said. “After this, I might have to go eat another six slices.”

“I can make you another,” she said, laughing. But she added, quickly, “I have more berries than I know what to do with right now.”

“If you start baking for me, you are never going to be able to get rid of me,” he warned.

Hadley turned towards him, smiling in a way that made his heart hurt. “Good, because I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

The butts of four cigarettes sat in a pile between Hadley and Seb’s feet, long since extinguished. The stars had come out in full now, and Hadley traced their patterns in the mirrored reflection of the lake with her eyes, mentally naming one before hopping to the next.

“Cassiopeia,” Seb whispered, pointing.

Hadley followed his indication upwards to the sky, where his finger drew a line to the constellation. She gave him a look of surprise.

“You remembered?” she asked.

“Give a guy some credit,” he said. “I remember most things you say. Or at least I try to.”

Yoba, that night felt like so long ago. A million moments seemed to stretch between then and now, and Hadley could feel the weight of each and every one.

“And Ceppeus?” he asked, pointing a little lower.

“Cepheus,” Hadley said. “The king.”

“And queen,” he added.

Hadley leaned back to take in the entirety of the night sky. She felt imbued with the starlight and Seb’s presence beside her. Him remembering the constellations she’d pointed out was just another item to add to the list of things that made her weak for him.

Not weak, she corrected herself. Just… something else.

She leaned back further to find Draco and her neck pressed against Seb’s shoulder. She relaxed into him, letting his steady presence support her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

She felt the words as they rumbled through his chest.

You, she thought. Always you.

“Not really anything,” she said instead. “Just… existing.” She twisted her neck a bit and looked up at him. His dark gaze met hers, and the constellations reflected back at her from his eyes. “My brain is always quieter out here,” she said. “With you.”

A dangerous admission, but one that was worth it because of the resulting soft smile that played on Seb’s lips.

Hadley closed her eyes and let herself just exist in the moment, absorbing the warmth and the now-familiar scent of him. He was such a steady, reassuring weight beneath her. The night felt limitless with him by her side. She could say everything or nothing and it didn’t matter, because he seemed to always know what she was thinking, anyways. She wondered how she ever existed without that feeling; that knowledge that someone else understood her on such an intrinsic level.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” Seb whispered.

The corner of her mouth pulled upwards into a smile. “Would that be so bad?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Because then I’d either have to stay out here all night or risk waking you up and dealing with a cranky Hadley.”

“I’m not that cranky.”

Seb snorted, causing his chest to shake beneath her. He leaned back into his arms and looked up at the sky.

Still leaning on his shoulder, Hadley looked at him instead. This close, she could see the stubble beginning to form on his chin and the soft freckles that dotted his cheeks. He was so familiar to her, in a way she wasn’t sure anyone else had ever been.

His gaze cut to hers.

There was so little space between them now — barely a few inches. Heat flared across her chest.

Whatever the air around them had been made of, it seemed to shift into something else, something new. Energy flooded into the empty space where her breath should have been, because she wasn’t breathing. Not now. It was as if time as she knew it had slowed, and now the past few months were catching up to them.

She watched the muscles in Seb’s throat bob as he swallowed. His gaze flicked down to her mouth.

Her pulse pounded so loudly that she was sure he must hear it. It blocked out everything else — the hum of the cicadas and the rhythmic singing of the frogs; all of it was replaced by the echo of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Hadley swallowed.

Seb leaned in a fraction of an inch, but hesitated. His eyes flicked back up to meet hers.

She saw the question there and it terrified her.

She had known, and had been avoiding, the sheer size of her want for weeks now. It was like she’d been remapping the cityscape of her brain, rerouting her thoughts any time they ventured too close to the truth: that she had fallen for him, and fallen for him hard.

It was easier to exist in the negative space, to float in whatever limbo they’d settled into. It was easier to believe that he didn’t want her. That the late nights they spent together and the mornings she woke up beside him didn’t mean anything at all. To leave it uncomplicated, unrealized.

But there was gasoline coursing through her veins right now and Seb was holding a match.

He lifted a tentative hand to her cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle curve across her skin. He took a shaky breath.

Hadley’s resolve was crumbling. But no matter how badly she wanted him, she needed him to be the one to make this choice. Because she couldn’t… she couldn’t be the catalyst that ruined this. Because she ruined everything. And-

Seb leaned forward. He closed the last breath between them and pressed his lips against hers.

It was timid. Testing.

He tasted like his cigarettes and something sweet, something wholly him.

And he pulled away far too soon.

There was a single second of silence, during which the breeze from the lake snaked its way into Hadley’s hair and erupted her skin in goosebumps. And then reality caught back up to her and she was burning.

She tugged at his hoodie and brought him back towards her, pulling his mouth into hers.

Seb’s fingers pressed dangerously against her cheek before winding their way into her hair. He pulled her closer, his mouth desperate against hers. Hadley gasped into his lips. The sound elicited a low groan from the back of Seb’s throat. She threw an arm around his neck, pulling at him, needing him closer, needing…

“Wait,” she said, breaking the kiss. She felt drunk, but she couldn’t…

Seb took a strangled breath. When he looked at her, his pupils were wide and blown out, and his cheeks glowed pink in the moonlight.

Yoba, he’s so fucking beautiful. It took everything in her not to kiss him again.

“I…” she started.

Seb pulled back an inch. Something flashed across his face, there and gone in an instant too quick to read. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. He moved to pull away entirely. “That was-”

Hadley grabbed him, forcing him to stop. “Wait.” Her cheeks burned. She swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice was small. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

“Okay,” Seb said.

But he still wasn’t getting it. She searched his face, trying to find something, anything, but he’d already walled himself off so completely.

Now or never.

“This would be real for me,” she whispered. She couldn’t charge blindly into this, not after what happened with Sam.  “And I can’t… I don’t want…” She paused, forcing the words out even as her cheeks burned so badly she felt sick. “If it’s not, for you…”

A crease formed between Seb’s eyebrows. He blinked at her, and then he reached for her hand. “Hadley…”

Slowly, he opened her palm and pressed it flat against his chest, right over his heart. She could feel the pressure from his pulse beating ceaselessly between her fingers. It was racing so quickly that she could hardly make out the space between the beats.

“It’s real for me,” he whispered. “It has always been real for me.”

She stared at him, unsure what words could possibly come close to explaining the way she was feeling.

Seb reached up to cup her jaw and ran his thumb across her cheek.

“I have not been able to think about anything but you since the moment I met you,” he continued.

A small jolt surged through her.

The entire time, she thought. He…

“But-” she started, the full implications of that statement hitting her.

“I’m not proud of it,” he breathed. “You just…”

His thumb grazed another line across her cheek, and Hadley leaned forward and kissed him for the sole reason of trying to convince herself that she could. That she was allowed to now. Probably always had been, and yet…

His mouth was hot against hers, and he was everything. He was fire and water and the breath that made up all of the stars above them, and she needed every atom of it. She tugged him closer and kissed him frantically, afraid that she would blink and all of this would disappear.

When they finally pulled apart, it was only for want of air. Seb pressed his forehead against hers, and his ragged breaths fanned across her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. She was certain she could spend an eternity here, chest to chest, their heartbeats an unsteady call and response to one another’s.

A soft breeze blew across the lake, and she shivered.

“We should go back inside,” Seb said.

But all she could imagine was walking back into his house and Robin being able to read everything that just happened from the look on her face. Her cheeks burned at the thought. “Your mom cornered me in the kitchen earlier,” she whispered.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she said, cringing. “I think her exact words were ‘I wasn’t born yesterday’.”

Seb laughed, heavy and real, and the corners of his mouth spread outwards into the kind of grin that he seemed to reserve exclusively for her.

Hadley continued, “I really don’t want to face her right now.”

“We could go back to yours and watch Buffy,” he suggested. He stood and outstretched a hand, which Hadley took, and he helped her to her feet.

He didn’t let go of her hand as they walked the path back around the lake and towards the mountain, where the trail turned back to her house.

Another breeze tugged against Hadley’s skin, and she shivered yet again.

“Where’s your coat?” Seb asked.

“I left it at your place.”

He dropped her hand and tugged off his characteristic black hoodie, handing it to her. Her heart stuttered.

“Stop it,” she said.

“You’re cold.”

“And we’re only a couple of minutes from my place. I’ll survive.”

But he gave her a look, and her argument was mostly for show, anyways. She tugged the sweatshirt over her head. The fabric was thread-worn to the point of softness, and his scent was so deeply embedded in it that it was the only thing she could smell. The sleeves went down to her fingertips, half-drowning her.

Seb tugged at the lower hem of it, pulling her closer to him.

“My reasons are mostly selfish, anyways,” he confessed, his voice low and rough. “Mostly I wanted to see what you’d look like wearing that.”

“And?”

His eyes darkened. He snaked a finger under her chin and tilted it upwards before placing a rough kiss against her lips.

He pulled away just far enough to speak his next words. “And you look even hotter than I thought.”

Hadley laughed against his lips. She stepped back, grabbing his hand and tugging him down the path.

❝I always swore to you I'd never fall apart You always thought that I was stronger I may have failed But I have loved you from the start❞

–⁠ Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade

Hadley slept straight through the night for the first time in weeks.

She woke slowly, her body being pulled to consciousness like she was swimming to the surface of a deep pool. She blinked against the morning light and fought the urge to let herself drift back into sleep. She was so comfortable.

She curled back up, settling deeper into the pocket of warmth she’d only just stretched out of.

Warmth, it dawned on her, that was a person.

Her heart stuttered.

Her head was curled in the space between Seb’s shoulder and his chest, and his arm was wrapped loosely around her middle, his fingers splayed against her hip. Wide awake now, she could feel the weight of his arm holding her down, but it was a pleasant weight — an anchor keeping her stable.

She dared to glance up at him.

Seb looked so peaceful in sleep. His face, in waking, was all harsh lines and high contrast, a hard mask against the people in this town. But he seemed softer, now. Younger. More like the Seb she caught glimpses of when he smirked or laughed at her jokes. She used to worry about the walls she could feel him build around himself, but now she wondered just how many she had knocked down without realizing it. She was starting to realize that the Seb she knew was different from the one everyone else in town did.

She had a flashback to a conversation they’d had by the lake months ago.

“Everyone in this damn town has a version of me they want me to be, though I can’t say I’m particularly good at being any of them.”

“Then who’s the real Seb?”

He’d never answered her. But looking at him, his breath relaxed in sleep, she had the thought that whoever the real Seb was, she was looking at him. Somewhere in the late nights by the lake and the endless episodes of Buffy, she thought she may have finally found him.

She wished she could tell him that.

I think I know you, she thought. And I think that I…

She didn’t let herself finish the thought. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably at the last word.

Seb’s dark hair was a mess across his forehead, the strands splayed out in every which direction. Before she could stop herself, she reached up and brushed them out of his eyes.

His eyelids flickered.

He let out a low hum and his body stretched. His arm flexed, and his grip around her side grew tighter; he pulled her closer.

Hadley held her breath.

Seb blinked. His eyes opened slowly, still glazed with the thickness of sleep, and his gaze fought to center on her. When it did, she swore she could see the cloudiness in his irises disappear.

He just stared at her.

There had been a line, she thought. One they always teetered on the edge of. But the line was so far behind her now that she didn’t know what to do. This was unfamiliar territory — territory she was never supposed to let herself be in — and suddenly her brain was telling her to get the fuck out of there.

She would hurt him if she ran away now. She knew that. But she didn’t know what else to do.

“I-” she started.

Seb stretched again and withdrew his arm from around her. A rosiness flooded his cheeks, and Hadley had the distant desire to know just how red she could make him.

No.

“Good morning,” Seb mumbled.

She’d been so tired last night, and the only thought in her brain had been how badly she wanted to sleep curled up in his arms. And she had. But she hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen after.

“Morning,” she answered. It was one word, two syllables, but her voice shook as she said it. Every atom in her body was screaming at her to run. To get as far away from here as possible.

She had to stop this. She couldn’t keep being so reckless. She couldn’t keep putting herself in these situations when she knew, she knew…

“I,” she began again. Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “I should probably… the farm…”

“Okay,” Seb said.

His voice was so adorably deep and scratchy this early in the morning.

She didn’t move.

She needed to move.

She pulled back a few inches, dragging her head up to the pillow, away from his chest.

Slowly, Seb twisted to face her and propped his head up on his elbow. There were only inches between them, and she felt the weight of each and every one.

He stared at her through half-lidded eyes and she was powerless to do anything but stare back.

“Hads,” he whispered.

She stilled at the nickname, at the way he said it. At the sleep lines pressed into his face and the way he was looking at her. The way he was always looking at her. Her stomach buzzed with a nervous energy she couldn’t tamper down.

He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and let his thumb graze against the smooth skin of her cheek. His eyes dropped to her lips. Time narrowed and slowed.

The door at the top of the stairs opened.

“You’re blocking in the trailer.” Demetrius’s voice echoed down the stairs. “Can you get out of bed and move that damn bike?”

Seb’s hand dropped. Hadley pulled away and put as much distance between them as possible.

Beside her, Seb took a deep, steadying breath, and sighed.

The door at the top of the stairs closed with more force than necessary. Neither of them moved as the sound faded.

“I should go, anyways,” Hadley whispered. She pulled herself out of his bed and tried to tie her hair into a semi-respectable looking bun. She hesitated, staring at him. Her entire body was buzzing with the type of energy that made her feel sick. “I… I’ll see you later.”

She disappeared up the stairs and hesitated at the top of the landing, checking to make sure no one was there. And then she slipped out of his house before anyone in his family could see her.

She felt untethered as she walked, like the next wayward breeze would rip her feet from the Earth and whisk her away. She should go home and feed the animals and tend to the farm but she just felt wrong.

She was dissolving where she stood and forgetting how to breathe.

She thought of the wide, open field of the farm and all of that space and felt certain she would disappear entirely if she went home.

So she went to Pierre’s instead.

The door let out another ting as it shut behind her.

Across the store, Abi looked up from the cash register.

“Hadley!” she said. “Hey.” But she took one look at Hadley and froze. She disappeared behind a row of shelves, and when she returned, Caroline was in tow. Her mother stepped behind the cash register.

Abi approached, took her arm, and led her through the back door of the shop that connected to their house. She didn’t say anything until they were safely in her bedroom with the door shut behind them.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I…” Hadley started. “I mean, nothing, but-”

Abi shot her a look. “Hadley, you walked in looking like you’d seen a ghost and you’re wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.”

Her cheeks burned. “Right.”

Abi sat down on the end of her bed and pulled her legs into a cross. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Hadley took a deep breath. She ran a hand over her face. The words she wanted to say floated in the space between her mind and her throat, but the thought of voicing them had tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She couldn’t even say it to herself. How was she supposed to say it to Abi?

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice barely scraping out of her throat. “I’m panicking, Abi. And when I panic, I run.”

“Then don’t run.”

“You don’t think I’m trying?” Hadley asked. “I just have this stupid fucking fear that I’m going to screw everything up. That the entire town is going to look at me like I’m the worst person alive and I’ll feel like the only way to escape it is to run away again. But this was supposed to be my fresh start. I like it here.”

“Sit,” Abi said, motioning towards the other side of her bed.

Hadley did as she was told. Her movements felt robotic, like she was just a program following a script.

“Pelican Town is abysmally small,” Abi said. “Believe me, I’ve lived here my entire life. And one thing you have to get used to in a small town is that people talk. They’ve got nothing better to do. The first time I dyed my hair purple, it was the only thing anyone talked about for weeks. People acted like me and Seb getting married was some prophetic inevitability, so when we broke up after like two months, everywhere I went, adults were telling me that I was making a mistake. That we’d work it out. This town likes to act like your entire future is already written, and the moment you veer off of it or dare to pick up the pen yourself, they act like you’re spiting Yoba or something. That’s just… how it is sometimes.”

“Then why do you stay?”

Abi shrugged. She picked a piece of lint off of her jeans. “I wish I could tell you,” she admitted. “We’ve all joked about leaving. Getting an apartment together in Zuzu. But I just don’t know how much better it is out there. Everywhere has its problems. I like the Valley. I like the people here, even if half of them get on my nerves sometimes. And I’d like to believe that people have come to respect the choices I make, even if they don’t always agree with them.”

“I’m not like you,” Hadley said, trying to force some humor in her voice. “I don’t think I could look someone dead in the eyes and tell them to fuck off.”

Abi snorted. “I think some may say that’s a good thing.”

Hadley’s thoughts drifted. She traced the patterns of Abi’s bed spread and thought back through the choices she had made since moving to the Valley. There were so many that, on first instinct, she would change. But if all of her choices were what led her here, could she really regret any of them? Would she change them, knowing how different everything might have turned out?

If she hadn’t been with Andrew, she never would have moved to the Valley.

And if she hadn’t been with Sam, for however messy and short of a time, would she and Seb have grown as close as they did?

Abi sat in companionable silence, letting her think. She waited a few moments before speaking again.

“Why are you really here?” Abi asked gently. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”

Hadley took in a breath. She closed her eyes tight against the world until she saw stars. And then she finally said the words she’d been trying to make untrue for months.

“I think I’m in love with him.”

The who didn’t need to be stated.

“I know.”

Hadley cringed. “I don’t…” she started, but she couldn’t piece together the words. “I don’t know what to do with it,” she finally forced out. “It’s just… I’m fucking terrified of it.”

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes.

“I don’t mean to sound insincere when I ask this, but why?” Abi asked.

A single tear escaped and rolled down Hadley’s cheek. She wiped at it, swearing, and moved to stand. “Sorry, I’m being ridiculous. I’ll stop bothering you, I-”

Abi grabbed her wrist. “No,” she said. “You’re not bothering me. I meant what I said. You can talk to me about anything.” She waited, and then, “Please?”

Hadley took a breath. She swallowed against the hoarseness in her throat. “It sounds so fucking stupid to say, okay? But stuff like this doesn’t work out for me. I screwed things up with Sam, and you’ve already fucking met Andrew, and I just…” She took another breath, and when she spoke again, her voice came out small. “I don’t want to screw this up, and I know I will, and I am terrified it’s going to kill me.”

Abi reached up and tucked an errant lock of hair behind Hadley’s ear. Hadley’s red-rimmed gaze met hers, and she gave Abi a sad smile.

“What if I’m the thing that’s wrong?” she asked. “What if I’m the thing that keeps poisoning every relationship?”

“Hadley,” Abi started. “You’re not. You’re-”

“But I could be,” she cut in. “And that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Not now. Not with him.”

“You’re not,” Abi repeated, softer that time.

Hadley tugged her knees up to her chest and rested her head on top of them. “Even if I’m not,” she started. “I spent years trusting Andrew, and he… I didn’t know he was capable of that kind of shit before he was. I don’t know how to trust, Abi. It’s why Sam and I didn’t work. It’s why I still instinctively try to keep you at arm’s length.”

“I say this with so much love in the world, Hadley,” Abi said. “But have you considered going to therapy?”

Hadley snorted through her tears. “I know,” she said. “I know. I should. I had a therapist in Zuzu. But I… I think I just wanted to move here and start over and pretend I wasn’t just, this broken thing. But I just am.”

Abi took in a breath. “You’re not broken, Hadley. You are absolutely anything but. In the months since I met you, you have proven to me, over and over again, how fucking strong you are. Just look at the farm. It was a pile of overgrown weeds eating a house that Seb, Sam and I used to go smoke at in high school. And you’ve made it into something amazing. You did that. We… we all have our shit. And even if you are ‘broken,’ none of us are without the ability to repair, okay?”

Hadley wiped at her face.

Abi continued. “Trust is hard to rebuild, I know. That shit takes time. But I hope you know that none of us would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I know Sam had his fuck-ups, but I also know he meant well, and I also think that that whole situation was a wake-up call he needed to actually listen to his friends’ needs.” Abi sighed. “Don’t… throw this away because you’re scared. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for him.”

Hadley swallowed. She took in one breath, and then another. She felt a bit lighter.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

Abi wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into her for a hug.