catch me if you can.

ileana's teasing forms a glare across her features.  olympia struggles to find the humour in ileana's presence.  she's already walking on egg shells as it is.  there's a target on her back here, between her world with the bounty on her head that goes up each moment she's alive   &   xeno's with the likes of ileana.  one wrong move could be fatal,   &   she values her life   &   goals too much to be a willing prey.

something that is not quite a smile rises when olympia turns her own question back on him. there's no joy in it, only a wry irony. in his mind's eye, he sees last night unfold again: how he pressed himself silently against the hallway wall, eavesdropping on the conversation going on behind the other side of the door. principal powers had dropped in. of course, she's good friends with lucille and william—it was the only way they got xeno, with his terrible record, enrolled in the school—but that doesn't mean she could let everything slide. not with his grades mimicking an avalanche. he needs a tutor, the principal had said. lucille immediately said they would pay for one—the best—but no. principal powers thought it would be helpful for him to learn from one of his peers.

and what could his foster parents do but agree? with one single string attached: anyone but olympia beckett.

they never realised he was listening.

here, perhaps, is what everyone is waiting for.  a rumble to devestate the city, brought on by two teenagers attending the school in the clouds   &   their feuding families.  it's a tale as old as time,   &   who are they to try to change it?  it's all written out for them somewhere, she must've heard the story   &   its iterations a hundred times.  then again, historians often say that you study history to avoid repetition, literature included.  it's a generation long game of minesweeper, trying to avoid all of the bombs that would trigger an explosion from wanting something you can't / shouldn't have.

there's a strange flutter in her chest, however momentarily, when he speaks.  she purses her lips, annoyed though it's more at herself than him.  she wouldn't know how to explain the feeling,  a runner's high while sitting down.  he triggers her fight or flight response but somehow she's frozen to the seat, unmoving yet continuing whatever conversation they're having.

"right. i've always liked that saying." on account of him feeling like more of a photographer than a talker, though that seems to be changing these days. the smile she gives him is echoed on his own features. with a murmured thanks, he accepts the returned camera, slipping it safely back into his bag.

"thank you," he says when his focus returns to her, "i do. i'm working as a freelance photographer at the moment, building up a portfolio, but—i'm starting to move more into nature photography." he lets out a slight laugh. "xeno is happy. he says we should go to antarctica and i can take photographs while he befriends the local penguins."

following passion is a rarity.  these days, people find it so easy to abandon things once beloved out of necessity,  it's a tragedy on its own.  she's glad to hear wesley didn't fall into that, how after everything, they're all able to do what they've wanted.  theo taking over the restaurant, olympia helping him run it   &   bake the occasional desserts when it's slow enough or there's a lot of demand.  the heists when they have the time.  it took a lot of work to find the balance, but olympia wouldn't have it any other way.

“   freelance.  that's very cool.   ”   she nods, a small laugh as wesley proceeds to tell the story.  it's exactly like xeno to make jokes like that, silly   &   childish in spirit, the way people never remain.  but xeno's different from others / special.  olympia knows that well.  his youth stays with him in every way.   “   yeah, that's probably my fault.  i showed him  happy feet.   ”

it feels like there's a fist around his heart. every hour applies more pressure, squeezing it tighter and tighter. whenever he looks down, he expects to see blood pouring from his chest, staining his hoodie. but there's nothing: he is unharmed and uninjured. it seems cruel, somehow, when the girl he loves is a patchwork of injuries, held together by fresh stitches and fragile hope. xeno wishes he could unravel this thread, travel back in time and put his indestructible body between olympia and any force that threatens to hurt her. he wants to take all the pain out of her body and put it into his. it's not fair, he thinks, again and again. it's not fucking fair.

he doesn't know how long he's been here, curled up in this chair. time stopped mattering after he called her number from a payphone and antonio picked up. xeno refuses to leave her side, eyes narrowed whenever anyone comes into the room, tense and defensive. he's pretty sure he's pissed off everyone in this mansion, but he doesn't fucking care. olympia has to be okay. she has to survive this. he won't lose her.

he's fiddling with paper ripped out from his sketchbook, making a useless assortment of origami animals to put on her bedside table, when he hears her voice. xeno. his eyes snap up, lock onto hazel pools. his suffocating heart slams against his chest.

she could only imagine the day she dies.  it's a distant dream, yet somehow always present in her mind.  it always ends in bloodshed,  always bloodshed,   &   always the same thoughts, echoes of what she already knows.  it would be raining, downpour washing her blood down the streets   &   into the sea where she belongs.  the story will end   &   xeno will live on,   &   all she'll be in his life is a momentary blip.  he'll forget her one day, perhaps only to be reminded of her laugh through a gust of wind.

she can't help but wonder:  would it be better to have gone now or later?  which would hurt xeno less, when she's old   &   he most expects it, when the number of days she has left can only be stretched so thin?  or now when she's still young, to not let anything in their lives or their story to continue further,  forever stuck in all the what ifs that come naturally to who they are?

his cool, soft touch on her hand makes her feel alive.  he's here,   &   she can prove that to herself with a touch.  but then he starts to cry,   &   she can feel her heart shatter in her ribcage.  for a moment, her breath gets caught in her lungs, unwilling to release until she speaks again.

After a lifetime of asking questions and seeking answers, there is a novelty to being on the other end of it. Olympia's line of questioning is smart, he thinks. She is assessing him. Ensuring he isn't a threat. Xeno did much the same thing.

"I know you are someone Xeno cares very deeply for." This, really, is the beginning and end of it. She is like one of the boy's unfinished sketches: Marco understands the vague outline of Olympia, by seeing her through the eyes of another, but there are no details, no shades to his knowledge of her. An ironic analogy, perhaps, considering Xeno's sketchbook is full of finished drawings of this girl.

it always seems strange when her   &   xeno's worlds crash into each other.  she's become so accustomed to their snowglobe fantasies that when their lives leak into it, she becomes surprised   &   uncomfortable.  even now, despite how long it's been.  but at least, like harry, marco seems harmless.  just the opposite of the feelings the likes of sebastian   &   ileana would evoke.

“   frankly, i'm surprised he mentions me to anyone at all.   ”   there's something wistful in the way she says it.  she wonders how long it might have taken to drag her name out of xeno.  she wonders if it's always on the tip of his tongue like his is on hers.  he's worried about you,  marco says.   &   this,  olympia knows well.  he always is, despite her attempts to reassure him that she's fine, that she'll be fine.

"i didn't wanna bother them," he admits, still grinning. "or... i don't know, i guess i wanted this to be all me." all me, all for you. "you can make fun of me. i deserve it."

avoiding the instinct to knock the brownie into the trash and claim it was stolen by a bear, xeno catches olympia's hand instead as it falls away. he laces their fingers together, his skin cool against hers. it's a brief touch, a symbol of a boy unwilling to let go, before he finally does release her. "okay," a soft smile, "i'll get—the brownie."

darting into the connecting kitchen, he moves with planned swiftness, almost paranoid she'll have disappeared by the time he returns. when he does, he's carrying a plate. on the plate is what no human eye would be able to identify as a brownie, mostly because it's just a massive, amorphous chocolate mound. however, xeno has improvised: the brownie mountain is meticulously decorated like constellations from the night sky, with one flaming candle planted on top. (this, more than anything, might be a sign of how much he loves her: he's willing to set something on fire for her.)

IT'S AN ACT OF LOVE  without the declaration.  still, she feels it just the same.  i wanted this to be all me,  he says,   &   her chest tightens at the thought.  everything is all the more special because it's from xeno, but for him to do something like this  ...  it's happy   &   sad at the same time, bittersweet in the way days like this always are.  but she'll focus on the sweet, savor every bit of it while these moments are still theirs to have.

“   no, no.  i won't make fun of you this time.  xeno, this is incredibly sweet.  pun intended.   ”   the smile already on her features would stretch wider if it were possible.  the glint in her eyes are very much present, too, dancing as she looks at him with all the love in the world.

his cool touch against her skin, fingers interlocking, is enough to drain the warmth from fingertips as blood rushes to her cheeks in a blush.  her heart hammers against her ribcage,   &   she unknowingly takes a breath   &   holds it.

it's only when he walks away that she exhales,  watching him go   &   return with a plate that looks more like a science experiment than a brownie.  however, she's quick to recognize the constellations,   &   it tugs at her heartstrings.  xeno knows her well, he sees her   &   all her interests in a way that she's never seen.  how many people could she say that about?  even with something difficult for him, he tries for her, exerts effort with such a manner of tenderness   &   thoughtfulness.  olympia can't help but wonder what she's done to be so deserving.

Send my muse a text, or send 📲 for my muse to send yours a random one

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