Green Witch From The Woods

Sebastian was busy and you understood that. Sometimes too well. That had become your role, somehow. To understand. To be patient. Even when it hurt a little more every time.

It was well past midnight when the apartment door finally opened. Sebastian spotted you immediately. Curled up on the couch in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, waiting. Like you almost always were. But it was your eyes that made him pause.

"Hey." He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair.

His sleeves were rolled up, his tie long gone. He looked exhausted, but there was still a trace of satisfaction lingering from the night.

Until he looked at you. When you didn't answer right away, he knew. He sighed heavily. "Don't." Your eyebrows drew together. "Don't start, okay? I've had a hell of a day."

Something inside you cracked. Not because you wanted to fight. You hadn't. You just wanted him to see you. For once.

"I wasn't going to start anything." Your voice sounded distant. Hollow.

"Good." He dropped his keys onto the counter. The sharp clatter echoed through the apartment. "Because I really don't have the energy tonight."

You watched him for a moment before speaking again. "And when will you?"

His jaw tightened. "What?"

"When will you have the energy?" You stood slowly. 

Sebastian suddenly became aware of how tired you looked. How small. How far away. The adrenaline from the club was still racing through his veins, while you stood there carrying the weight of countless lonely nights.

"Tomorrow?" you asked. He didn't answer. "Next week? Next month? When?" Your voice trembled. "Or maybe when your club finally matters more than everything else in your life?"

Sebastian's head snapped up. Immediately, you wished you could take it back. Not because it wasn't true. Because it was cruel. You weren't usually cruel, but tonight felt different. Tonight you felt cornered.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"You know exactly what it means."

"No." His voice sharpened. "Explain it to me."

And there it was. The anger. Neither of you stopped it so you let it happen. You folded your arms across your chest.

"It means I'm tired of being the thing you squeeze in between everything else."

The words hung between you. For a brief second, Sebastian looked hurt. Then defensive.

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" You raised an eyebrow.

"No." His voice rose. "You knew who I was when we got together."

A short laugh escaped you. "Wow. That's your excuse?"

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair.  Frustrated. He hated fighting with you and tonight it felt like you'd walked into the apartment looking for a war. But if that was what you wanted…

"You think I don't do all of this for a reason?" he asked.

"There it is." You shook your head. A bitter smile pulling at your lips. "Everything always comes back to the club."

Because it did, and you both knew it. Silence stretched between you. Then Sebastian said the thing he shouldn't have. The thing he'd regret the second it left his mouth.

"If you don't understand why this matters to me by now..."

He didn't finish and he didn't need to. The damage was already there. He could see it in your eyes. You stared at him as if he'd slapped you. Because the sentence beneath the sentence was obvious.

If you don't understand me. If you don't support me. If you really loved me.

Sebastian saw it too late. The exact moment your expression changed. The exact moment something shut behind your eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

But you were already stepping away. Physically, emotionally. Both.

"No." Your voice became dangerously quiet. "Maybe it is."

"Come on, baby."

He stepped forward but you stepped back. Somehow that hurt more than the argument itself.

"You know what the problem is, Sebastian?"

His face hardened. "What?"

"You always ask me to wait." You laughed softly, without humor. "You ask me to wait until things calm down. Until the club succeeds. Until you're less busy." Your eyes filled with tears. "And somehow that day never comes."

The apartment fell silent. Neither of you moved and neither of you looked away. Your words echoed through the room long after you'd spoken them. Then Sebastian said something terrible. Not because it was cruel. Because it was honest.

"I don't know what you want from me."

The words landed like a punch. Because you realized he meant them. He genuinely didn't know anymore. Your eyes burned. Your throat tightened. Without realizing it, you dug your fingernails into your own arms.

"I want you to choose me sometimes." The whisper was barely audible. But Sebastian heard every word.

And for the first time that night he didn't have an answer. That was what frightened you. Not the anger and not the fight. The silence. The fact that the man who always had something to say suddenly had nothing at all, and somehow that felt an awful lot like the beginning of the end.

The moment the apartment door closed behind you, the argument was over. Not resolved, just over. Because there was nothing left to say.

Sebastian stood frozen in the living room and watched as you walked past him, grabbed your coat and your bag, and left exactly as you were.

"Wait."

You heard him behind you. The word followed you into the hallway, but you didn't stop. For the first time in a very long time, you didn't stop for him. By the time the elevator doors slid shut, your hands were shaking. Not from anger, not from fear. But from the horrible feeling that something inside you had finally broken.

Like someone had reached into your chest and torn away a piece of your heart. And somehow that hurt far more than screaming ever could.

"Did you get everything?" "Oh. Right." You reached into your bag and pulled out a bundle of wooden skewers along with an extra set of acrylic paints. "You forgot these." "I definitely did." You held them out triumphantly. “Do you have a planet for me?” "Is Mars enough?" "I also want Jupiter." He looked up. “You’re haggling.” "Oh, just wait." You reached into your jacket pocket and produced a tiny bottle of iridescent glitter that shimmered in what seemed like a thousand different colors. "I'll trade you." Ryland's eyes widened. "For what?" "Saturn's rings." He stared at the glitter, then at you. "I'll give you anything you want."

An hour later, the two of you were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. Your fingers were stained with paint, half-finished planets covered the coffee table, tiny stars cut from glitter paper were scattered everywhere. Ryland was telling you about the latest disaster at school. "So apparently my fourth-graders decided that if we were learning about volcanoes, we obviously needed an actual eruption. They convinced me." He sighed dramatically. "So baking soda, vinegar, food coloring...fire alarm. The whole school had to evacuate."

You smiled, but Ryland noticed something that nobody else ever seemed to. The smile never reached your eyes. You were here, sitting beside him, painting planets, getting glitter stuck to your cheeks until you sparkled like one of the stars you were cutting out. But your mind… Your mind was somewhere else entirely.

"I'm flying to Dubai tomorrow." You didn't even look up from Mars. "They need someone to take care of the penguins." "Oh." You painted another careful stroke. "That's nice." "That's enough." You froze. Ryland quietly set his paintbrush down, half-finished Venus rested on the coffee table. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or should I start exploring alternative interrogation techniques?" You finally looked at him. You'd known him for so long, you couldn't lie to him again. Could you? So you just shrugged. "I'm just tired."

"'Just?'" "Yeah." It wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't. "You know you don't have to pretend around me, right?" His voice was gentle. "I don't want to pressure you. I just… I care about you, okay?" Your chest tightened. "I don't ever want you to think you have to come here just because I need help with school projects." He smiled sadly. "Or that helping me is the only reason I want you here."

Without thinking, you wiped at your cheek, only succeeding in smearing more glitter across your skin. It shimmered beneath the warm living-room lamp. "I'm sorry, Ryland..." He frowned immediately. "Don't." His voice softened. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, sweetheart." You inhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. "You know I hate it when conversations become about me." He nodded. "I know." "And you're not letting this go today." "Not a chance." A sheepish grin. "I can be stubborn." "Oh..." The corners of your mouth twitched. "I've noticed."

You set Mars aside. Your shoulders slumped. For a long moment you simply stared at your hands. "You know..." Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "I feel like I'm failing at everything." "What do you mean?" You shrugged helplessly. "Everything. I'm just... surviving from one day to the next. I wake up. I eat the same bowl of oatmeal. I go to work. I do what I'm supposed to do. I keep trying..." Your voice caught. "I keep trying to look like I've got everything under control. Like I'm capable. Like I belong. But honestly..." You laughed bitterly. "I'm terrified someone's going to figure out I'm a fraud. That I don't actually know what I'm doing. That I'm disappointing everyone. That I have to earn it."

Ryland felt something tighten painfully inside his chest.  He had never, not once, seen you that way. Your words felt impossibly unfair. Still… He already knew the answer before he asked. "What do you have to earn?" Your eyes had turned red. A few tears slipped down your cheeks before you hurriedly wiped them away. More glitter. More stars. "Someone noticing me." Your voice cracked. "Someone... doing something for me. I don't mean anything huge. I just… I want to be somebody's person." Your composure finally broke. "I don't want to be the strong one all the time. I feel like I'm constantly running. And somehow I'm always behind."

The tears came all at once. You hid your face behind your hands as though, somehow, you could hide from him too. Ryland moved closer without saying a word, he rested an arm gently around your shoulders. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him. His other hand slowly rubbed comforting circles along your arm. "Oh, sweetheart..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "That's too much for one person. Even one as strong as you. Tell me..." He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. "When was the last time someone took care of you?" You sniffled. "The lady who did my nails?" Despite everything, Ryland smiled. There it was again, turning pain into a joke before anyone could see how much it hurt. "They're beautiful." He glanced at your hand. "But that's not what I mean. You're overwhelmed, but you keep pretending you're okay. You keep putting more and more on your own plate when you're barely managing what's already there." His voice caught. "I wish..." He hesitated, because he had never said this aloud before. He certainly hadn't expected tonight to be the night. Not while painting planets in his living room. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

You looked at him. "I can always count on you. It doesn't matter if it's building school projects or helping organize something for my class. You balance your job, your own life, everything else you carry. And somehow…you're still there for everyone. You think about other people before you think about yourself. You make sure I eat. You make sure I remember to take care of myself. You keep buying me those ridiculous science T-shirts." He smiled. "I still have no idea where you find them. But I love every single one of them."

Then, quietly. "You don't have to keep reflecting everyone else's light. You already have your own." His thumb brushed gently across your shoulder. "And I don't need you to be the person who has everything figured out. I just..." He smiled with that shy, almost embarrassed softness that was so unmistakably Ryland. "I just want you to be you."

Silence settled between you. Eventually, you looked up. Your mascara had smudged beneath your eyes, there was glitter mixed with your tears. Ryland couldn't help thinking you'd never looked more beautiful. "What if I don't remember how?" Your voice was almost inaudible. "What if I've been pretending for so long that I don't even know who I am anymore?" Ryland thought for a moment, then he simply shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. "Then we'll figure it out. Together. And we'll start tonight." He squeezed your shoulder before standing. "That's it. The solar system can wait until tomorrow."

"What?" "We're going to eat. I saw a little diner down the street. They serve wonderfully unhealthy food. They're open late. And after that..." He pretended to think. "We'll watch a documentary. And if we get bored, we'll watch something else. If you want music, we'll listen to music. If you want silence, we'll sit in silence. And..." He glanced around at the glitter-covered room. "If the mood strikes us…we can dance somewhere between the couch and this complete disaster."

You laughed through your tears. "You dance?" "With you?" His smile grew. "Absolutely." He held out his hand, without hesitation, you took it. When you stood, you were close enough that he could still see the glitter sparkling across your cheeks. But for the first time that evening there was hope in your eyes. "You know..." Your fingers tightened around his before naturally weaving between his. "You're a real treasure."

Ryland groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on..." He felt warmth creep into his cheeks. "I just wanted to do something nice for my favorite girl." The words escaped before he had time to think about them, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you smiled. A real smile this time.

You smile as you wake, the warm, familiar feeling of Lars’s soft body flush to your back, his cock hard and nestled against your ass as he snores quietly behind you.

You love cosy mornings like this, when it’s cold outside but you’re snuggled with Lars. You can stretch and roll over and kiss him until his lips are swollen and the front of his pyjamas are damp with precum, and then make love to him, slow and deep and intense as he holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.

When you roll over this morning, though, you catch sight of the clock beside the bed and jolt upright.

It’s nine, church starts at nine-thirty, and it’s a ten minute drive into town.

‘Lars, baby, Lars wake up,’ you coo as he blinks his eyes open and smiles up at you.

‘Mmh, good morning… you look so-’

‘Lars, baby, we’re gonna be late for church.’

Despite not being a church-goer yourself, you attend with Lars for the social and communal side of it, to support him since you know how important it is to him. Reverend Bock was welcoming and not pushy at all, which made you all the more eager to join the little church community for your boyfriend. 

You know he won’t feel right if he doesn’t go – it’s not just important to him, it’s a routine he’s followed for years, and a change to that routine would mean a very dysregulated Lars. 

After rushing around finding the clothes you’d discarded the night before, hurriedly brushing your teeth and combing his hair into place for him (with a cheeky comb of his mustache, too, which never fails to make him smile), you run to his car, slam the doors shut and he speeds off toward town.

You make it just in time, Lars muttering to himself as you find a place to sit, and you’re patient beside him through the service. It feels like an eternity after knowing he woke up hard and leaking and pressed against you, and you’d wanted nothing more than to ride him into next week.

At the end of the first hymn, while everyone takes their seats, you lean in close to whisper, ‘I’m so wet for you right now,’ and watch the way his cheeks glow pink as he sits back down. You place a hand on his thigh when you’re settled back in the pew and feel his sharp intake of breath.

The rest of the service is uncomfortable for Lars to say the least. He’s trying so hard to focus on Reverend Bock’s words, but he can’t stop his mind from drifting off to thoughts of you. Dirty thoughts. Thoughts he really shouldn’t be entertaining while in a place of worship, and he will feel horribly guilty for later. But right now all he can focus on is wanting to slide his hand inside your pants and feel your arousal for himself.

You’re close enough that you can sense the tension coming off Lars and bite your lip, knowing what you’ve done to him.

Mrs Gruner leans over from the row behind you to quietly ask if he’s okay, and you whisper back, ‘Yeah, we just woke up a bit late and rushed to get here. He’s a little flustered, that’s all.’

It’s the truth, after all.

Mrs Gruner however, nods and smiles and sits back with a smirk on her face, eyeing Lars knowingly. You could have said, ‘He’s coming down with something,’ and Mrs Gruner would still see through it.

You glance at Lars. He’s visibly trembling and his forehead is damp.

You take your hand away from his thigh and could swear you heard him whimper.

When Reverend Bock finally brings the service to a close, Lars hurries from the pews like he’s caught on fire, and speeds through his goodbyes to Mrs Gruner and the other regulars while you smile sweetly beside him as though you have all the time in the world.

‘Enjoy the rest of your Sunday,’ Mrs Gruner smiles with that twinkle in her eye, and you smile back, blinking your gaze away.

All the way home, you stoke deliberate, tender shapes into Lars’s thigh. His breathing is heavy, and he doesn’t speak, so neither do you. You just keep touching, keep the contact you know he craves from you all the time, to keep him grounded.

Lars’s car screeches to a stop on the gravel, and after hastily opening the passenger door for you, he marches right into his apartment.

If Karin is watching, she probably thinks you’ve had a fight, but that’s okay. It means she’ll leave you alone long enough that you can have your way with one another uninterrupted.

When you’re both inside, Lars leans back against the door and tries to steady himself with some deep breaths. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he calms himself, sliding off his hat and tugging open the popper fastenings on his coat.

‘A-are you still- wet?’ he breathes, as he hangs his coat up, trying hard to sound casual and unbothered. But he’s so obviously incredibly bothered.

‘I have been since I woke up,’ you nod, biting your lip.

Lars crowds you until you’re on the bed beneath him and his hand is pushing under your clothes, a thick finger slowly fucking into you as he moans at how slick you really are.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry for leaving you like this all morning, having to sit through church so… so-’

‘Painfully horny for you?’ you finish his sentence.

Lars blushes and squeezes his eyes shut, as though fingerfucking you right after church isn’t flustering enough until hearing you say the word horny really tipped the scales.

You grab his sweater and pull him closer to kiss you.

‘What had you so on edge?’ you ask, managing to get the words out, but Lars’s thick fingers are really doing a number on you, alternating between filling you up and curling just right, and massaging your clit with slow, firm fingertips, and your words ultimately dissolve into moans.

‘I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this to you.’ His voice is low, and cracks a little halfway, sending shivers through you. ‘I wanted to touch you like this.. While we were-’

‘Go on,’ you moan, fingers gripping at his arms.

‘While we were in church, I couldn’t hear anything Reverend Bock was saying, I just kept thinking about burying my fingers in you and feeling you- f-feeling you-’

He knows your body well enough to know you’re close, and after a morning of longing for his touch, you begin to unravel, bucking up against his palm as he fucks into you harder and faster.

You clench around his finger, your grip on his sweater tight enough to pull holes in the wool, while wave after wave of pleasure wracks through your body.

Lars kisses you sweetly through the aftershocks of your pleasure, but as soon as you’re coherent, you kick off your pants and push at his chest until you’re on top of him, bringing his hand up to suck his finger clean – a move that still makes him feel as though he could pass out.

Lars is propped up, leaning back against the headboard as you free his throbbing cock.

‘Did you think about this too?’ you ask, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking soft and slow, just how he likes it.

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘You’re so naughty,’ you smirk, shifting to straddle his waist and guide yourself down onto him, ‘what would the reverend say if he knew you spent the service daydreaming about getting me off…’

You hiss at the delicious stretch and give Lars a moment to adjust.

‘... and about filling me up with your cum?’

Lars’s heart hammers and he’s speechless, the thrill of the guilt he feels turning into a hot pool of pleasure in his core.

‘I’ve wanted to do this since I woke up,’ you breathe, pulling your sweater off to bare yourself to him completely.

‘Y-you don’t have- underwear- church-’ Lars is trying so hard to make sense while he’s buried in you, warm and wet and so hot, but it’s getting harder to form a complete thought by the second.

‘I didn’t feel like wearing any today,’ you smirk, watching the way his face scrunches. ‘Just for you.’

‘At church? N-naughty-’ he groans, big hands gripping at your hips to feel the way you roll your hips.

You lean in to whisper, ‘Do you like it when I’m naughty? When I drag you down with me?’

Lars can only whine and attempt to nod, his forehead now pressed to yours as he holds you there, slipping his arms around your back to lock you in place above him so he can take the lead and fuck his hips up into you, hard but steady.

‘Everyone thinks you’re such a good boy, they don’t know you make me cum twice before you drive us to church every week.’

He whimpers, looking into your eyes as you continue.

‘And they don’t know you rush me home to fuck me like this right after church, either-’

Lars snaps his eyes shut and lets out a single moan, and he ruts his hips up faster.

‘Let me hear you,’ you whisper, before his thrusts inevitably turn a little more erratic.

Lars moans so loud you consider sliding your palm over his mouth but the sounds are just too delicious to muffle and you feel the coil tightening in you core again.

‘L-Lars, I’m-’

But he’s too far gone and as the bed creaks beneath you, Lars’s strangled cry rips through the room and you come undone together, panting and gasping as his grip on your hips almost bruises before it loosens and his thrusts stutter to a slow stop.

You stay above him, panting together and hold on tight as his cock twitches inside you, the intensity of your rather more hurried and hungry session taking it’s time to melt away.

There’s a tap at the door then, a gentle rap against the window, and your eyes snap open to meet Lars’s.

‘Lars? Lars, we wanted to make sure you’re both okay?’

It’s Karin. As wonderful as she can be, you really do wish she would leave you alone sometimes – especially this time.

Lars freezes, panic written all over his face and you know you’re going to have to deal with this one.

‘We’re okay!’ you call, lifting off Lars and causing him to let out a little ‘Ugh-’ at how suddenly he was left cold and exposed. He’d much rather still be inside you.

You hop off the bed and throw on the first things you pick up, which happen to be his sweater and your pants.

‘We saw you come home and we were worried!’ Karin calls, ‘Can we do anything to help?’

Lars winces. He knows Karin means well, that she knows how to handle him if he has a meltdown, but he wishes she would trust you a little more with that now, that she would leave you two to deal with those kinds of things yourselves.

Now clothed, you open the door just enough to see her, jamming your body into the gap to block Lars from view.

Behind you, Lars wraps a blanket around himself, hastily makes the bed look passable, and on shaky legs, makes his way to the bathroom where he switches on the shower.

‘Karin,’ you smile, seeing her eyes draw up to your messy hair, which you quickly attempt to smooth down. ‘Thanks for calling by, but we’re okay, really.’

‘Did you have a fight?’ Karin asks blatantly, trying so hard to be tactful, but it just came off nosy.

You see her head tilt as she clocks that you’re wearing the sweater Lars always wears for church. And the fact that you have it on backwards.

‘No, nothing like that,’ you say as Karin tries to peek past you.

‘Okay, well, we made breakfast. Will you both join us?’

‘Breakfast? We’d love to!’ you feign, ‘Can you just give us… fifteen minutes? We woke up late so Lars is only just showering.’

Karin bites her lips together and nods. ‘Sure. Sure, see you in fifteen minutes.’

After watching Karin make her way back to the house, you close the door and strip back out of the clothes you’d thrown on.

You find Lars worriedly listening at the bathroom door, and gently pull the blanket away from him to replace it with your embrace.

‘I bought us fifteen minutes,’ you say, and he lets out the breath he was holding in, relieved. ‘Do you wanna jump in the shower together before we head over there?’

‘Yeah. Thank you for dealing with that,’ his cheeks powder with a pink blush again, ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

‘Any time, sweetheart,’ you reach up to cup his cheek and he leans into it.

"Did you get everything?" "Oh. Right." You reached into your bag and pulled out a bundle of wooden skewers along with an extra set of acrylic paints. "You forgot these." "I definitely did." You held them out triumphantly. “Do you have a planet for me?” "Is Mars enough?" "I also want Jupiter." He looked up. “You’re haggling.” "Oh, just wait." You reached into your jacket pocket and produced a tiny bottle of iridescent glitter that shimmered in what seemed like a thousand different colors. "I'll trade you." Ryland's eyes widened. "For what?" "Saturn's rings." He stared at the glitter, then at you. "I'll give you anything you want."

An hour later, the two of you were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. Your fingers were stained with paint, half-finished planets covered the coffee table, tiny stars cut from glitter paper were scattered everywhere. Ryland was telling you about the latest disaster at school. "So apparently my fourth-graders decided that if we were learning about volcanoes, we obviously needed an actual eruption. They convinced me." He sighed dramatically. "So baking soda, vinegar, food coloring...fire alarm. The whole school had to evacuate."

You smiled, but Ryland noticed something that nobody else ever seemed to. The smile never reached your eyes. You were here, sitting beside him, painting planets, getting glitter stuck to your cheeks until you sparkled like one of the stars you were cutting out. But your mind… Your mind was somewhere else entirely.

"I'm flying to Dubai tomorrow." You didn't even look up from Mars. "They need someone to take care of the penguins." "Oh." You painted another careful stroke. "That's nice." "That's enough." You froze. Ryland quietly set his paintbrush down, half-finished Venus rested on the coffee table. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or should I start exploring alternative interrogation techniques?" You finally looked at him. You'd known him for so long, you couldn't lie to him again. Could you? So you just shrugged. "I'm just tired."

"'Just?'" "Yeah." It wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't. "You know you don't have to pretend around me, right?" His voice was gentle. "I don't want to pressure you. I just… I care about you, okay?" Your chest tightened. "I don't ever want you to think you have to come here just because I need help with school projects." He smiled sadly. "Or that helping me is the only reason I want you here."

Without thinking, you wiped at your cheek, only succeeding in smearing more glitter across your skin. It shimmered beneath the warm living-room lamp. "I'm sorry, Ryland..." He frowned immediately. "Don't." His voice softened. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, sweetheart." You inhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. "You know I hate it when conversations become about me." He nodded. "I know." "And you're not letting this go today." "Not a chance." A sheepish grin. "I can be stubborn." "Oh..." The corners of your mouth twitched. "I've noticed."

You set Mars aside. Your shoulders slumped. For a long moment you simply stared at your hands. "You know..." Your voice barely rose above a whisper. "I feel like I'm failing at everything." "What do you mean?" You shrugged helplessly. "Everything. I'm just... surviving from one day to the next. I wake up. I eat the same bowl of oatmeal. I go to work. I do what I'm supposed to do. I keep trying..." Your voice caught. "I keep trying to look like I've got everything under control. Like I'm capable. Like I belong. But honestly..." You laughed bitterly. "I'm terrified someone's going to figure out I'm a fraud. That I don't actually know what I'm doing. That I'm disappointing everyone. That I have to earn it."

Ryland felt something tighten painfully inside his chest.  He had never, not once, seen you that way. Your words felt impossibly unfair. Still… He already knew the answer before he asked. "What do you have to earn?" Your eyes had turned red. A few tears slipped down your cheeks before you hurriedly wiped them away. More glitter. More stars. "Someone noticing me." Your voice cracked. "Someone... doing something for me. I don't mean anything huge. I just… I want to be somebody's person." Your composure finally broke. "I don't want to be the strong one all the time. I feel like I'm constantly running. And somehow I'm always behind."

The tears came all at once. You hid your face behind your hands as though, somehow, you could hide from him too. Ryland moved closer without saying a word, he rested an arm gently around your shoulders. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him. His other hand slowly rubbed comforting circles along your arm. "Oh, sweetheart..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "That's too much for one person. Even one as strong as you. Tell me..." He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. "When was the last time someone took care of you?" You sniffled. "The lady who did my nails?" Despite everything, Ryland smiled. There it was again, turning pain into a joke before anyone could see how much it hurt. "They're beautiful." He glanced at your hand. "But that's not what I mean. You're overwhelmed, but you keep pretending you're okay. You keep putting more and more on your own plate when you're barely managing what's already there." His voice caught. "I wish..." He hesitated, because he had never said this aloud before. He certainly hadn't expected tonight to be the night. Not while painting planets in his living room. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

You looked at him. "I can always count on you. It doesn't matter if it's building school projects or helping organize something for my class. You balance your job, your own life, everything else you carry. And somehow…you're still there for everyone. You think about other people before you think about yourself. You make sure I eat. You make sure I remember to take care of myself. You keep buying me those ridiculous science T-shirts." He smiled. "I still have no idea where you find them. But I love every single one of them."

Then, quietly. "You don't have to keep reflecting everyone else's light. You already have your own." His thumb brushed gently across your shoulder. "And I don't need you to be the person who has everything figured out. I just..." He smiled with that shy, almost embarrassed softness that was so unmistakably Ryland. "I just want you to be you."

Silence settled between you. Eventually, you looked up. Your mascara had smudged beneath your eyes, there was glitter mixed with your tears. Ryland couldn't help thinking you'd never looked more beautiful. "What if I don't remember how?" Your voice was almost inaudible. "What if I've been pretending for so long that I don't even know who I am anymore?" Ryland thought for a moment, then he simply shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. "Then we'll figure it out. Together. And we'll start tonight." He squeezed your shoulder before standing. "That's it. The solar system can wait until tomorrow."

"What?" "We're going to eat. I saw a little diner down the street. They serve wonderfully unhealthy food. They're open late. And after that..." He pretended to think. "We'll watch a documentary. And if we get bored, we'll watch something else. If you want music, we'll listen to music. If you want silence, we'll sit in silence. And..." He glanced around at the glitter-covered room. "If the mood strikes us…we can dance somewhere between the couch and this complete disaster."

You laughed through your tears. "You dance?" "With you?" His smile grew. "Absolutely." He held out his hand, without hesitation, you took it. When you stood, you were close enough that he could still see the glitter sparkling across your cheeks. But for the first time that evening there was hope in your eyes. "You know..." Your fingers tightened around his before naturally weaving between his. "You're a real treasure."

Ryland groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on..." He felt warmth creep into his cheeks. "I just wanted to do something nice for my favorite girl." The words escaped before he had time to think about them, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you smiled. A real smile this time.