did you turn it off and on?

He hadn’t realized it until he was carrying the tray into the bedroom, Emily following behind him, how smoothly that all had gone once they worked together. He hadn’t been in her way, she hadn’t been in his. Nothing else burned down. Nathan usually didn’t like people in the kitchen with him, but they flowed together. They hadn’t bumped into each other once. They fit. It crept up on him slowly, watching her climb back into bed, Nathan nodding for her to grab the mugs off the tray to set them on the nightstand, so the coffee wouldn’t slosh around everywhere as he climbed in on his side. They fit, like his arms were made to hold her exact shape, and he wrapped them around her, holding her as she scooted closer, the tray with their food left on his nightstand.

His nightstand. His side of the bed. All of it here, with her. Nathan kissed her back slow, following her lead, a contented hum in his throat at the feel of her hands on his face. He gave in to the sensation of her fingers at the back of his head, her thumbs on his cheeks, like her touch alone would chase away the throbbing in his temple. She pulled back, leaving a little smile on his lips, Nathan laughing lightly at her joke. “These are the best ones. They will be perfect.” Nathan had left the doughy ones behind and plated the rest. The misshapen ones, the unevenly cooked ones, they were all going to be the best pancakes he’d ever had.

His arms were loose around her, a slight knit creasing his brow at the sudden change in her expression. “And I love you,” he said, just as certain and sincere, managing to get the words out before she spoke of last night, apologizing, blaming herself. Nathan wanted to interrupt her right there, to stop her from thinking that all of it was her fault. She always did that, made herself carry the responsibility of everything on her shoulders, and for what? What was the point of a relationship if they couldn’t carry it together? Her hands fell from his face, stunning him into silence long enough for her to keep going, explaining her side of it. He reached for them, pulling his arms from around her waist to take her hands loosely in his own.

“I want you to listen to me,” he said, eyes on their joined hands. “You are good enough.” His voice was quiet and serious, inviting no argument, like he was stating a fact. “The people you’ve been with hurt you and made you believe something that isn’t true. So I want you to hear me when I say this to you: you are good enough.” Nathan gave her hand a light squeeze, kept his gaze downcast. “And I’m sorry I haven’t done enough to make you feel it, but you are, Emily. You’re everything I want.” She was much more than that, but he couldn’t push the words past his throat to say it. To tell her she had made him believe he was someone worth loving, that she reached into his heart and torn out the barriers he’d unknowingly put up there. His mouth stayed closed around the words, Nathan breathing in deep before changing track.

“And I’m sorry too.” Because he had reacted poorly as well. This wasn’t all her fault. “I’m sorry I walked away. I should’ve stayed. We should’ve talked it out, so I’m sorry I left you there, I just… felt like…” He didn’t dare look up, eyes tracking his thumb as he moved it back and forth on her skin, the crease in his brow becoming more pronounced. It had felt like an ending, her believing that lie so readily. Nathan hadn’t wanted to confront it. He’d been a coward and walked away. His voice was quieter when he spoke, finally sorting his thoughts into something easier to explain. “You didn’t even ask me if it was true.” That was the catalyst of it all, of what had felt like the end. “Because I would’ve understood, if you asked. If you needed to hear me say it wasn’t true. Of course I would.” He had known about her exes cheating, knew the insecurities she carried because of them. Of course he would’ve understood her needing reassurance.

“But you didn’t ask. You just decided it was true, without talking to me. You believed it right away. It made me feel like…” And here, he paused again and swallowed the words. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be open with her. It was the years and years of diminishing his feelings, bottling them up and telling himself it was all stupid and didn’t matter. He struggled against that conditioning now, forcing himself to say how he felt, no matter how dumb he had been to feel the way he had, now that she was here, still with him, still loving him. “It made me feel like I… like I don’t show you that I love you enough, or, or that I don’t do it right, like I don’t love you how you want to be loved, or show you in ways that count. And I don’t think I’ve ever given you reason to mistrust me, so it just felt like—it made me scared that something has been lacking these past three months, that there’s something I’m not doing, or doing wrong, because I don’t make you feel safe and loved like you should. But I do, Em. I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that I’m…” Not enough. “Like this,” he said instead, still not meeting her eye, his shoulders giving a little shrug. “I’m trying. I’ll keep trying.”

and then he said it: that she didn’t even ask if it was true. that he would’ve understood if she needed to hear it. and then, quieter, the part that made her chest split open that it made him feel like he didn’t love her enough. like he didn’t do it right or made her feel safe the way she should. like something had been lacking these past three months. emily’s eyes misted so fast it was embarrassing. she blinked hard, but the tears gathered anyway. because she had been so busy wondering if she was too much that she hadn’t considered he might be wondering if he wasn’t enough. “baby…” the word came out wrecked.

she watched him not look up, watched his gaze stick to their conjoined hands, like looking at her might break him. and emily couldn’t stand it. she couldn’t stand the distance of it, the way he was hurting while still trying to be careful with her. so she let go of his hands, moved in close, and straddled him settling into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, like she belonged there, like she was choosing him with her whole body before her mouth could trip over the right words.

emily cupped his jaw and tilted his head up until he had no choice but to look at her. she poured everything she couldn’t say fast enough into that look first—soft, fierce, pleading, certain. “you are good enough too,” she whispered, thumbs brushing along his cheeks. “you are. you’ve always been.” her throat tightened and she sniffed, still crying, still not stopping. “i am so sorry i made you feel like you don’t love me right,” emily said, voice trembling. “because you do. you love me so well.” she swallowed, breath shaking. “you are everything to me, nathan. you have always been my everything. you’re the first person i want to tell when anything happens—good news, bad news, dumb news, whatever. you’re my favorite person.” her smile wobbled, wet and real. “ever since we met in that stupid game chat. you have been my best friend.”

emily paused taking a breath before dropping her hands from his face. “i trust you more than anyone in the world,” she said, fierce through tears. “and i hate—i hate that i made you feel like my fear mattered more than your words.” she inhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay present instead of dissolving into shame. “i didn’t ask last night because i didn’t want to talk about it in that moment,” emily admitted. “i wanted to focus on ingrid. i wanted to wait.” she shook her head, eyes shining. “and then you walked away and it felt like… it felt like i royally fucked up.”

her eyes squeezed shut for a beat. “and i panicked, and i did what i always do—i disappeared. i made myself small. i hid in the library like if i stayed quiet enough i wouldn’t make it worse.” her voice cracked. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” she opened them again, gaze locked on his. “and i’m sorry i let a rumor get between us,” she whispered, like it physically hurt to say it. “i hate that i made you feel like my fear had more weight than your words.” she swallowed, the rest coming out softer. “when i asked you to tell me she was full of shit… that wasn’t me calling you a liar.” her eyes burned again. “that was me begging for something louder than the voice in my head.”

she kept her gaze steady, refusing to look away. “because my brain didn’t believe britney because it thinks you’re capable of cheating,” emily said carefully. “it believed her because it’s been trained to expect loss. it’s been trained to expect humiliation. that training is old and cruel and i am trying so hard to unlearn it.” she took a breath. “you are not lacking,” she said, more firmly. “you are not doing anything wrong. you have never given me a reason to mistrust you as you said.” her hands twisting themselves into each other. “i just… don’t trust myself sometimes. i don’t like myself enough to believe someone wouldn’t choose me completely.” the words were ugly, but she didn’t run from them.

“and i don’t want to live like that anymore,” emily whispered. “i don’t want my brain poisoning the best thing i’ve ever had. i don’t want it poisoning you.” her breath shook. “so i’m going to start therapy. i’m serious. not because you’re failing because i’m tired of living at the mercy of the meanest voice in my head.”

she leaned closer, still straddling him, her hands up to holding his face like it was sacred. “please tell me when you feel like i don’t see your love,” emily said, voice breaking again. “because i do. i see it all the time. i see you trying. i see you choosing me. and i want you to feel chosen too.” her eyes spilled again, and she laughed softly through it, helplessly. “i love you,” emily whispered. “i love you so much it scares me.”

To his horror, Ocean realized that the woman was chasing him. He had thought when he started to run that she'd just let him go, but that wasn't the case. And she was fast too. Ocean was fast as well, ran regularly, but he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk and lost his footing a bit, allowing the woman to catch up to him. His ice cream cone - now without ice cream, which was melting back where his flight had begun. "I'm sorry," Ocean said, a little winded. "I'm not trying to be a jerk again. I wasn't going to say anything about your friends this time." Looking at the woman, at the expression on her face, Ocean realized something: "You didn't remember who I was, did you?" he asked.

nothing.

no threat. no screaming. no footsteps. just the normal sidewalk and the sound of her own lungs betraying her. “okay—hold on,” emily panted, hand lifting like she needed a second to load reality. she bent, bracing her hands on her knees as she tried to coax air back into her chest. she did not run. not like this. but apparently, when she thought she was about to be murdered outside cupcake’s, she could. she looked back up at him, brows furrowed. “why would i think you were talking about my friends?” she asked, still catching her breath, irritation slipping in now that the fear was fading. “you just… ran.”

when he asked if she remembered him, emily squinted, genuinely trying to place his face, her brain flipping through half-formed memories like a rolodex that had gotten wet. “should i?” she asked carefully. “i’m sorry, but a lot has been going on in my life.” she straightened a little, still winded, and tilted her head. “do i know you from eden’s?” she guessed. “or… do you work for google?”

but, if emily felt like something was off, then that was all that mattered. her job was not to reason through what happened, it was to empathize with her friend. "the library's a good place to hide." she tried for something lighter, to compliment the mention of joel's speech. though, she couldn't hang onto it for long, upon hearing the cursed name of matt brought up. she could envision the nights they'd spent talking about him before, all of the words spilled around that horrible experience.

she hugged emily, tight and fierce, the two enveloped in the blue of her sleeves while she did her best to comfort her friend. "i know you do." the words were a whisper into emily's hair, squeezed across her shoulders. it was the best version of honesty, found in the quietest corners of girlhood. "you two do just need to talk about it." if it was trust and communication, she could only think of that solution. it wasn't immediate, it wouldn't be easy, but what about this ever was. "just give it time." easier to say than do, but she'd been on the recieving end of enough gossip to know. "he has realize it's britney, it'll be obvious." despite what jp, whoever that was, said about the situation.

“thank you,” emily whispered. “ing, i mean it.” she pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes watery, and took ingrid’s hands in hers, squeezing them like she needed to feel something real. “you’re one of the best things about carroll,” she said softly, voice shaking but sincere. “i would not have survived this life without you.”

emily took a breath, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “nate and i will talk,” she promised, even if it felt fragile. “just… not tonight, i guess.” her mouth twisted. “he doesn’t want to speak to me.” she lifted her phone in a small, helpless gesture. “i texted him and he said he couldn’t.” it shouldn’t have hurt the way it did, but it did. for the first time in their whole long friendship, he didn’t want to see her, and it cracked something tender in her ribs. “maybe tomorrow,” she added, the words barely holding together, before she wiped at her eyes again.

then she forced a breath and tried to straighten, like she could pull herself back into being supportive by sheer will. “but it’s your wedding day,” emily said quickly, trying to brighten, trying to stop taking up space. “this isn’t fair to you.” her gaze flicked over ingrid’s dress, gentle and practical, like she was giving them both an escape route. “do you want to change?”

Ocean didn't really have a destination in mind when he'd set out for a walk today. All he'd known was that he wanted to get out of the house. While he had considered texting one of his few friends, like Claudio or Saffron, seeing if they wanted to hang out, he thought about the fact that they'd just seen him twice in recent days. They need a break, Ocean had thought, the decision made. And then he had considered going to the library to see if Landon was there, but he talked himself out of that too. Right now Landon hadn't realized how much of a waste of time Ocean was, and while that was bound to happen eventually, Ocean wanted to delay it as much as possible. So in the end, he'd decided to just get some ice cream and walk the streets of downtown, enjoying the nice weather.

Soon enough though, Ocean regretted that plan. He was walking down the sidewalk when he saw someone walk out of one of the shops, and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was her. Ocean actually didn't know her name; when he'd introduced himself, she'd been mad at him and walked away, but not before calling him an asshole. And ever since, Ocean had felt bad. He'd even almost left the reception and would have, but he hadn't wanted to upset Claudio. So Ocean had just stayed in the garden for awhile to gather himself together and had spent the rest of the night keeping an eye out for the woman.

And now here she was. For several seconds, Ocean just stood there frozen, his ice cream falling off of his cone onto the sidewalk, the two of them looking at each other. And then Ocean turned around and hurried away. He hadn't intended to run, just walking quickly, but within seconds he was literally running away. You're such a loser, he thought, unsure whose voice it was this time.

then he turned and ran. and emily had seen one too many scary movies to stand there and ponder the symbolism. she ran too. she didn’t even look back to see what he was running from. she just bolted, clutching her cupcake like it was a lifeline. no matter what was chasing them, she was not losing the sweet treat.

emily caught up beside him, lungs already protesting because she was not a runner, but fear was an excellent motivator. “what are we running from?” she managed between breaths, eyes wide, hair whipping at her face as she kept pace. “and why am i involved?!”

He waves his hand." I can make you company for a while longer and then I'll leave you to your cupcakes." Orion scratches at the back of his neck, feeling his face heat." I actually have a dance, for the singles dance." He clears his throat." Remember Vera? Well, she's here and I kind of promised one to her."

then orion mentioned they had a dance for the singles song, and emily’s eyebrows shot up so fast it practically erased her sadness for a second. “you do?” she repeated, and the name vera tugged at something in her memory even if she couldn’t place it. “oh my god,” emily gasped, grin breaking through. “you’re going to dance. with an actual person.” she reached over and squished their arm in excitement, practically vibrating. “how did this happen? did she ask you? did you ask her?” emily leaned in, eyes huge. “tell me everything, o!”

Yanking his hand back to the steering wheel that's where it belonged .❝ Nope, still tiny. Tragic, honestly. ❞ The truck rumbled down the road, warm air cutting through the cracked windows while some old rock station played low in the background. At her earlier question, though, his smirk faltered just enough to give him away. ❝ Wishful for? ❞ he repeated, buying himself a second. Then he huffed quietly through his nose and glanced back at the road. ❝ I dunno. ❞ Lie. He knew exactly what he’d been wishful for.

That maybe this version of them could exist without all the damage attached to it. That maybe she still looked at him the same way sometimes. That maybe if he kept making her laugh, he wouldn’t have to think about the fact someone else had probably learned all the little things about her that used to belong to him. His jaw shifted once before he forced the easier version back on. ❝ Mostly wishful that you won’t cry too hard when I smoke you in this race, ❞ he said lightly. ❝ Carrying you and all. Gonna be embarrassing for you. ❞

He shot her another sideways grin then, softer underneath the teasing. Seeing her feet on his dash just brought the flashback and before he knew it he was arriving at the gas station where they would go almost every other weekend.

He met her gaze with one that read challenge accepted. "Always," he promised. Fitzroy allowed himself to be tugged along, chuckling at the woman's eagerness to do something they weren't supposed to be. "If we get caught, I'm saying this was all your idea," he warned, "I was just an innocent victim in your diabolical deviance."