# is the biggest ragebaiter on paradis island when it comes to you!! asks the most ridiculous questions just to see your reactions. “if titans could marry people do you think they'd propose with a finger or the whole hand?” she watches your face light up with annoyance like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever studied.

# gets really nervous when you’re mad at her but secretly also thinks you’re so hot when you’re worked up. like she’ll be apologizing while also thinking wow yeah that's my girlfriend..

# hates when the others tease her about you. when someone makes a comment, she'd just immediately goes “shut up.” and walks away with bright red ears.

# biggest softie ever in private. loves cuddles more than she’ll ever admit out loud. she’s always the small spoon, arms wrapped around you while she talks about whatever random thought pops into her head at 2am.

# absolutely adores when you wash her hair for her. before she met you, she was so busy with experiments that she’d forget basic things like that sometimes. her hair used to be greasy half the time 😭😭 (this is canon btw) because she’d just push it off for “later.” but now you’re the one who drags her to sit down and washes it for her properly. she melts every time, eyes closed, leaning into your hands like a very content cat. sometimes she’ll mumble sleepy little thank yous while you rinse the soap out.

# loves it when you show even the tiniest bit of interest in her titan research. if you ask one question she will talk for HOURS, eyes shining like a kid who just got their favorite toy just like back when you still weren’t dating. she once managed to keep you up until dawn rambling about titan experiments, even though everyone had warned you not to ask her about it.

# will randomly grab your hand mid-conversation because she just likes feeling that you’re there. sometimes she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it.

# constantly forgets to take care of herself (skipping meals, staying up all night working) but listens immediately if you tell her to rest. like the moment you say “hange, go to sleep,” she just sighs and dramatically collapses beside you.

# once tried to measure your heartbeat while you were cuddling and got distracted halfway through because she started thinking about how warm you were.

# she drag you one time to watch her experiments because she genuinely thinks you find them fascinating. she gets way too excited explaining things while you’re just standing there like “hange… that titan is literally screaming.”

# gets weirdly competitive when it comes to who loves who more. if you say “i love you” she’ll immediately go “well i love you more actually.” and if you argue back she starts listing evidence like she’s presenting a case.

# when she’s stressed she gets quieter than usual and ends up seeking you out without even realizing it. she’ll just sit next to you, lean her head on your shoulder, and suddenly she’s calmer.

# absolutely lights up when you laugh at her jokes. then she’ll keep repeating the joke or making new ones just to hear that sound again.

# when she’s reading or writing reports she absently leans against you. sometimes her head ends up in your lap and she doesn’t even notice until you start playing with her hair.

# when she’s half-asleep she gets veryyyy very clingy, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder, mumbling nonsense while refusing to let go.

# loves the fact that you’re someone she can be completely ridiculous around without being judged. she already acts wild with everyone, but with you she lets herself be even softer.

# sometimes forgets personal space exists. she’ll lean way too close while talking, push her glasses up with your finger instead of her own, or casually rest her head on you mid-conversation like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

# if someone ever flirts with you in front of her, she doesn’t get jealous in a dramatic way. she just casually slides an arm around your shoulders and starts talking way too enthusiastically about titan anatomy until the person leaves.

# if you ever get hurt during a mission she becomes terrifyingly serious. the usual chaos disappears instantly while she’s checking you over, hands careful but quick.

# but the moment she realizes you’re okay she goes right back to dramatic mode. “don’t ever scare me like that again!! my heart almost exploded!!”

# will occasionally talk about you to the titans she’s studying. you’ll overhear her saying something like “you see that soldier over there? that’s my favorite human actually.”

# sometimes she studies your face the same way she studies titan behavior. when you ask what she’s doing she just says “observing. you’re my favorite subject.”

“Huh,” Dina frowned softly at the thin of silver, tilting it as if she was noticing something odd about it.

You hesitated, twisting your hands in your lap.

“It’s a bit large for my wrist actually…” you shrugged casually.

“Really?” Dina raised her eyebrows and immediately grabbed your hand, inspecting it. She laughed, loud and full, shaking her head. “Oh my god… this is a total bum! Ellie couldn’t even get this right!”

You shook your head, unable to stop yourself from laughing along with her. She stared at the bracelet again, holding your hand for a full minute before giving a dramatic “I don’t get it.”

“What, you don’t get—” you started, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t get why she would give you this expensive thing when she didn’t even get it right for you,” Dina said, shaking her head slowly.

You stayed quiet, letting her talk, watching her animated expression.

“Was this supposed to annoy you?” she asked, squinting as if she could read your mind.

“I… don’t know?” you admitted, shrugging.

“Are you annoyed?” she pressed, eyebrows arched suspiciously.

You scoffed, thinking about the last two years Ellie hadn’t even gotten you a birthday gift. “I mean… not really. No,” you muttered, shaking your head again.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice low.

Dina leaned closer, voice dropping like she was about to spill some secret. “What happened inside the closet anyway? Ellie looked… annoyed when she came out, from what my drunk brain remembers.”

“Nothing happened…” you said quickly, lying without even thinking. “And if anyone should be annoyed, it should be me. Not her.” You rolled your eyes, letting a small smirk slip.

Dina scoffed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You two are so mature.”

“Yeah, but if you were in my position for the last six years, you wouldn’t be able to say that,” you muttered, matter-of-fact.

Dina tilted her head, watching you carefully, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Honestly? If I were in your position… I’d probably just, I don’t know… be dating her already.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Wait, what?”

“Think about it,” she said, shrugging like it was obvious. “She’s been around forever. Always there. If it were me? I’d just… go for it. Stop overthinking everything.”

You stared at her. “Go for it, how?”

Dina laughed, tossing her hands in the air. “Like… start a relationship? Obviously, you wouldn’t just sit there, being all weird about gifts and closets and stuff,” she said, grinning.

You let out a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah, right. Easy for you to say. You don’t… you don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m just saying what I would do,” Dina grinned, leaning back. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

You squinted at her. “Do you like Ellie or something?”

She snorted. “Hell, no. I’m just saying… if I were you, I wouldn’t be this weird about it.”

You rolled your eyes lazily, leaning back on the couch. “But I’m not gay. You know that.”

Dina just laughed at your face, shaking her head, and didn’t say anything. You frowned at her reaction, watching her walk to the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

That conversation with Dina certainly didn’t help at all. If anything, it made everything worse.

Girls never really crossed your mind that way. Yeah, you’d felt the occasional crush—those awkward little flutters, a few casual dates here and there—but they were always on guys. Always “normal,” the kind of thing your Christian parents expected you to like, the kind of thing that fit neatly into the rules you’d grown up with. But Ellie? Ellie had somehow twisted your brain into questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself.

You shoved the pillow aside, glaring at the ceiling. You hated that you couldn’t stop replaying her words from that cramped closet. You hated that your chest felt tighter just thinking about the way she grinned at you, even in those moments when you were insulting her wholeheartedly.

You went to sleep that night, convincing yourself that maybe you only felt this way because it was impossible to get along with her normally, that maybe if you were just friends like everyone else, none of this would happen. And if there ever came a time when you two became friends, it would stop feeling like this.

The next morning, the sun filtered lazily through the blinds, casting stripes across Dina’s living room. Despite the chill outside, the room was warm and noisy. It was the last day before classes resumed, and everyone had ended up at her place, sprawled across couches and floor cushions like it was the middle of summer instead of winter.

You leaned over the arm of the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone while everyone talked about nothing in particular while watching something on the TV. You didn’t have the energy to join in, just letting their voices wash over you—until you caught Jesse saying Ellie’s name.

“Does anyone even know if Ellie’s coming over?”

No one answered.

“Seriously she’s not replying to my messages either,” Jesse said, flopping back on the couch with a dramatic groan.

“Shut up, Jesse. You talk like a girl,” Alex muttered from beside him.

“Am I not allowed to worry about my best friend? Who, by the way, is your friend too, Alexa.” Jesse shot back.

“What if she—I don’t know—hurt herself or something?” Jesse added, eyes wide, trying to make a point.

“What would make her do that, Jess?” Dina asked, frowning.

“I don’t know, man but she looked crushed last week,” Jesse said, shrugging.

Alex laughed, shaking his head. “Crushed? Really? Because I literally saw her on a date yesterday.”

And just like that, Ellie walked in, a girl by her side.

“Dude, you’re fucking alive!” Jesse grinned, swinging the door open wider and giving Ellie a side hug.

“I’m gonna kill you if you told them what happened,” Ellie said, eyes narrowing at him.

“What happened?” Jesse asked innocently, shrugging.

Your eyes flicked from Ellie to the girl beside her—you didn’t recognize her. This also wasn’t the girl she’d made out with over New Year’s.

You sighed softly, forcing your gaze back to the TV. She always said she didn’t play around—but here she was, sticking to her word in the most infuriating way possible.

Why were you even bothered? It wasn’t like it was new—Ellie had always dated around, and you weren’t supposed to care. But for some reason, seeing her with a girl now left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Over the following weeks, Cat started tagging along with the group more often. She was pretty, funny in a quiet, effortless way, and could talk to anyone without trying. Honestly… she looked like the kind of girl Ellie would date.

You told yourself you didn’t really mind her being there. Of course you did—you made yourself believe that was how it should be. So you kept your distance, focusing on everything except Ellie and her girlfriend.

But Ellie… well, she had a way of getting under your skin, no matter what. You caught her looking at you sometimes, watching you while Cat stood right beside her, laughing and talking. Your chest would tighten every time, you’d have to look away.

That week, Dina had practically dragged you to the gym, insisting you come watch the game even though you’d told her you weren’t in the mood.

Now you were perched on the bleachers, surrounded by noise and cheering, trying not to frown as you watched Cat wipe Ellie’s sweat after she’d won with her teammates.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on anything else, until Ellie’s grating voice cut through the crowd.

“What's wrong, princess? You look like the sky and earth just fell on you,” she smirked, settling a seat a little away from you, a spare shirt draped over her shoulder.

You crossed your arms, refusing to meet her gaze. “I hate dirty players,” you muttered, voice low and measured.

Ellie snorted, a mock frown tugging at her lips. “I didn’t realize you were paying this much attention to me during the game.”

You let out a slow, deliberate sigh, keeping your tone flat and uninterested. “Everyone saw it,” you said, eyes flicking elsewhere, tuning out the surrounding chatter.

Ellie leaned back on the bleacher, tilting her head like she was studying you. “Everyone? You mean… everyone’s judging me because of what? My epic skills?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, tone sharper than intended. “No, because you cheat.”

Ellie’s grin widened. “Cheat? Really? Care to explain.”

You glanced at her shortly, before looking away. “I saw you elbow Taylor in the first half,” you shrugged.

Ellie laughed under her breath. “Oh, come on, that’s part of the game. Don’t act like you weren’t watching.”

You huffed, crossing your arms tighter. “I was watching, yes. And I didn’t like it.”

She chuckled, then shook her head with a mock frown. “Why are you even here if you don’t like it?”

“Because my best friend’s here, so I’m supposed to be,” you shot back lightly, glancing at her before flicking your eyes to Cat walking over. “Just like your girlfriend’s here because you’re here.”

Ellie’s lip tugged into a grin. She glanced at Cat, stood up, and brushed off her shorts, then turned back to you, the same irritating smirk on her lips. “Well, then… I’ll go to my girlfriend now.”

You frowned softly, watching her walk back to Cat, who was smiling up at her. You looked away just as Ellie kissed her, then headed home right after, texting Dina that you weren’t feeling well enough to join the plans she had for you.

Each day it got harder to stay “cool” around Ellie. And each day, you realized you could never be anything with her. You couldn’t even tolerate her enough to be friends. And being anything more than that wasn’t possible. So more often than not, you just chose to not go with them if you knew Ellie and Cat would be there.

That was what was on your mind when you finally said yes to Dina about going to this house party, two weeks later. But the moment you stepped in and saw Ellie lounging on the couch with the others, your stomach dropped.

Fuck.

There was no time to look shocked or scared, so you swallowed whatever you felt and followed Dina, trying to act casual.

The music thumped, voices collided, and the mix of sweat and cheap alcohol made your stomach twist. After Dina disappeared somewhere—God knows where—you ended up perched on the kitchen counter, trying to disappear into the chaos.

From there, you could still see Ellie on the couch, Cat beside her. They were the only ones left, talking quietly while everyone else was wrapped up around.

You let out a slow, exasperated sigh. The tequila you’d been sipping was threatening to make an appearance the wrong way, so you tried to find a bathroom. No luck. You went upstairs, trying to make yourself throw up, but it wouldn’t work.

Frustrated, you opened the door to leave—and froze. Ellie was there.

“What the fuck?” you muttered, taken off guard.

Her eyes flicked to you, then down at what you were wearing. “What were you doing?” she asked.

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to steady the sudden thump of your heart. She wore her hat backwards, a red graphic tee and worn jeans that clung just enough to catch the light—careless and effortless aura she always carried.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you think? I was sleeping in the bathroom?” Your voice carried the sarcasm you didn’t quite feel.

She chuckled lowly, but she still didn’t step aside so you frowned.

“…I was just wondering,” Ellie said, she rested her hand lightly on the side of the doorway, fingers brushing against the frame as if leaning on it for balance. “You haven’t really been around this past week.”

You lifted a brow. “And?”

She shrugged faintly. “Nothing.”

The silence stretched, thick and weird. You shifted your weight, feeling the alcohol churn in your stomach.

“Okay. Can you move?” you muttered.

Ellie glanced at you, then to the side, finally stepping back just enough for you to pass.

You didn't say anything and brushed past her shoulder.

But just as you did, her hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist.

You froze.

Her grip wasn’t tight, but it held enough to stop you in your tracks.

Ellie leaned slightly, a subtle sway betraying her steps. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and her lips were glossy, catching the light from the hallway. Her sharp and playful eyes locked on yours.

“Are you avoiding me?” she asked, her voice low, stretching out just a fraction, almost slurred.

Your chest tightened, heart hammering in a way that had nothing to do with anger. Every inhale felt too loud, too aware of the warmth of her hand against your skin. You tugged gently, trying to pull free.

“Let me go,” you muttered, voice firmer than you felt.

“Why?” she asked, stepping closer, and you caught the faint sway of her body as she moved.

“Because… just let me go, Ellie.” You repeated, voice firmer this time.

Her thumb brushed yours, almost accidentally, and a shiver ran down your spine. She didn’t let go. Instead, she stepped closer, leaning in, voice dropping almost to a whisper.

“Tell me… am I hurting you?”

Your eyes dropped to her hand—cold, knuckles pale from how tightly she was gripping your wrist now.

You swallowed hard, mind racing. The faint scent of alcohol and her warmth pressed into your senses, making it impossible to answer logically.

“Yes,” you breathed, chest rising slow and uneven. “You are.”

Her eyes softened, vulnerability flickering through the haze of the room. The grip loosened slightly, but she still held on, stepping just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her.

“Tell me what I can—” she started, her voice rough. “What can I do?”

Your heart was racing too fast, your thoughts too loud. You pulled your hand back suddenly, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk, Ellie.”

You didn’t wait for her to respond. You left and went straight home.

You couldn’t stay in the same place after the way she looked at you, after the way she said that—like she meant it, even if she didn’t fully understand it herself.

The next morning, Dina was the first to call you.

She filled you in on all the drama you’d missed after leaving—but the part that made your stomach drop was that Ellie had broken up with Cat.

“Fuck,” you gasped under your breath.

Shadows poured from between abandoned establishments, spilling into the road like a flood. Groans layered over one another, bodies dragged themselves forward, arms outstretched, drawn to the sound of your panic.

Carl didn’t slow. He pulled you along, weaving between rusted cars and broken fences, firing only when one got too close. Each gunshot echoed, bouncing off the empty storefronts.

A walker suddenly lunged from behind a van. You screamed, swinging blindly, and Carl fired before it could touch you. The body dropped inches from your feet.

“Don’t look,” he barked, yanking you forward again.

You stumbled over loose gravel, your ankle twisting as your foot slipped. Pain flared white-hot and you cried out, losing your balance. Carl caught you before you hit the ground, his grip tight.

“Don’t stop,” he said, breath ragged. “You stop, you die.”

“I’m trying!” You snapped back, barely able to breathe.

Your lungs burned. Your legs shook. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the ground was pulling you back toward the dead. But you kept running. You had no choice.

Everything blurred together until the road gave way to dirt and trees swallowed you whole. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaves crunching beneath your shoes as you plunged into the woods.

You ran until your lungs burned, until the world narrowed into nothing but the sound of your heartbeat and the weight of his hand dragging you forward.

You didn’t know how long you ran. It could have been minutes or hours. All you knew was that eventually the groans faded into the distance, swallowed by the trees.

At some point, you tripped again.

And Carl, dragged you upright again before you even hit the ground.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” he shouted, panic cracking through his voice.

You wrenched your arm from his grip. “My foot is bleeding, asshole!”

He froze, eyes flicking down to the dark stain spreading through your sock.

“Then lean on me,” he said, already stepping closer. “Come on.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” he snapped. “Move.”

You bit back whatever you were going to say and let him pull you along, your arm slung over his shoulder. He adjusted his pace, slower now, but still fast enough that the fear stayed sharp in your chest.

The groans followed you into the trees, distant but still there, a reminder that you weren’t safe yet.

You kept going until your legs finally gave out.

You collapsed against a fallen log, gasping, your body shaking uncontrollably. Carl dropped beside you a second later, bracing his hands on his knees, his chest rising and falling fast.

Neither of you spoke at the moment.

The forest was quiet except for the distant creak of branches and the faint hum of insects. The sky had begun to darken, the sun slipping behind the trees, painting the world in deep blue shadows.

Carl moved first, setting up a small fire with shaking hands. He kept glancing into the woods, gun resting across his lap.

You just watched him, still breathing heavily, painfully aware of the throbbing pain in your bleeding feet.

After setting up the fire, he sat across from you, staring into the flames.

The warmth should have helped you, but it didn't.

“I’m tired,” you said suddenly, your voice barely louder than the crackle of the fire.

Carl looked up, watching your expression.

He cleared his throat and stood, “I’m gonna set up a snare. Stay here, just shout when you need me.”

Without a word, he dropped a knife beside you.

Your eyes followed the blade as it hit the dirt, then slowly lifted to him. His gaze flicked to your feet, lingering on the blood-soaked fabric, his jaw tightening like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

He turned away. “I’ll be back,” he said, already stepping into the shadows.

Carl disappeared into the darkening forest, swallowed by the trees. The fire crackled softly beside you, its glow shrinking against the growing night. You tried to stay alert, scanning the woods, listening for anything.

But your body was begging you to stop. All you wanted was to lie down. To close your eyes and rest, even if it was only for a second.

The silence felt eerie, and your skin prickled with unease. Then you heard soft small footsteps behind you.

You snapped your head around and lurched to your feet, heart slamming against your ribs. Your breath came fast and shallow, the knife clenched tightly in your hand as you backed away from the firelight.

“Carl?” you whispered.

Something moved again.

You froze, pulse roaring in your ears, every muscle coiled to run or fight.

Then a small shape burst into view.

A rabbit…

It leapt from the brush, eyes wide, frozen in the same fear that had been living in your chest for days. Before you could think, your body moved on instinct.

You threw the knife. The metal cut clean through the air and struck its mark. The rabbit dropped, blood spilling into the leaves, its body twitching once before going still.

The forest went quiet again.

Your hand fell to your side, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you stared at what you’d done.

You took a shaky step forward, toward the lifeless body, guilt crashing over you all at once. You didn’t even know if you were apologizing to the rabbit… or to yourself.

And that’s when you heard footsteps returning through the trees.

You spun around.

It was Carl.

He froze when he saw the rabbit at your feet, then looked back at you, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Whoa,” he said quietly. “That was… fast.”

Your throat tightened and swallowed hard, staring at the blood soaking into the leaves. “I killed it,” you said, your voice low and unsteady, guilt flashing across your face.

Carl stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the rabbit before drifting back to you. He didn’t say anything but his eyes looked like they're searching for something. Then his expression softened.

“It was going to die either way,” he said gently. “Out here, nothing gets a clean ending. Walkers would’ve torn it apart. Or something worse.”

You hesitated before nodding, though your chest still felt heavy.

He crouched and picked up the rabbit, careful and quiet, like he didn’t want to scare you further. “You did good,” he added, softer.

You sat on the fallen log while he worked, unable to look away as he cleaned and skinned it with steady hands. You weren’t sure if it was the firelight or exhaustion, but his face looked older than it had that morning, shadows cutting into his cheeks, his jaw set with a kind of calm you didn’t understand.

When he finished, he skewered the meat on a stick and held it over the fire. The smell filled the clearing, sharp and unfamiliar, but it made your stomach twist with hunger.

You ate in silence.

The meat was tough, smoky, and tasted faintly metallic, the leftover blood giving it a strange tang, but you didn’t complain. You chewed slowly, letting the warmth spread through you for the first time since you ran.

Across the fire, You caught Carl watching you before he looked away quickly.

You watched him for a second longer before lowering your gaze to your feet. Your injured one twitched slightly, the pulsing ache running up your leg.

“Is it bad?” you heard Carl ask quietly.

You moved your heel a little, testing it, then let out a tired sigh and looked back at him. “If I’m not gonna die from being torn apart, I’m probably gonna die from an infection.” Your lips tugged into a weak half-smile, though it wasn’t really a joke.

Carl frowned, jaw tightening softly. “We’re going back to Alexandria tomorrow.”

You stared at him, surprised, a hundred thoughts rushing through your heads. You nodded slowly, absorbing what he just said about taking you back to Alexandria, unsure what you were supposed to feel—relief, fear, or something in between.

“What if… what if I die tonight?” you asked quietly, not even sure why the words slipped out. Maybe you just wanted to hear him say something.

Carl looked at you immediately. “You won’t.”

You let out a small, humorless breath. “You don’t know that.”

“No one’s going to die tonight, okay? Stop thinking that way.” He shook his head, clearly annoyed, before standing and grabbing his canteen. “I’ll find water,” he said, already scanning the dark woods.

He disappeared between the trees before you could say anything.

You hugged your arms around yourself, staring into the now burning low fire, feeling strangely exposed. You hadn’t noticed how much you were relying on him until he was gone. The thought made your chest tighten, but also brought a small, unexpected sense of comfort.

When he finally came back with water, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, even though you didn’t say a word.

He handed you the canteen without a word. You took it, letting the cool water flow down your parched throat. When you were done, you handed it back silently.

Then, without warning, he dropped down in front of you.

“What are you—”

“Let me clean your wound,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm.

You froze for a second, heart thudding, but then nodded. You slipped off your shoes, the cool dirt of the forest floor sending a shiver up your legs. Your mind couldn’t help but flicker back to the first time he had done the same thing to you, back at the barn. Your chest tightened at the memory, both familiar and oddly comforting.

Carl’s hands moved carefully as he examined your ankle. His fingers were gentle, brushing away dirt and blood, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. He tore a strip from his jacket, dampening it with water, and began wrapping it around your ankle.

When he tied it off with a thin strip from his t-shirt, you held your breath, watching every movement. He worked slowly, deliberately, making sure it was secure but not cutting off circulation. His eyes flicked up at you once, briefly meeting yours, before returning to the task.

You let him do it, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and nervousness coil in your chest. The warmth of the fire, the closeness, and the way he handled your pain—it all made your heart beat faster than it had a moment ago.

When he finished, he leaned back slightly, brushing his hands on his knees. You swallowed hard, trying to look casual, but inside, your chest felt like it had been stirred awake.

“Thanks..” You muttered, unable to look at the boy in front of you.

He let out a low sigh and stood, brushing the dirt from his knees. “You can rest now,” he said quietly.

“How about you?” you asked, voice small.

“I’m gonna keep watch,” Carl replied, his tone steady, not looking at you as he moved to the edge of the clearing.

You nodded, biting your lip, then lowered yourself carefully onto the ground, dirt and leaves scratching at your skin. You turned your back toward him, giving him space, though your body ached and your mind raced.

He stomped down the remnants of the fire, dirt scattering, until only a faint glow remained. The forest around you felt enormous and silent, the distant groans of the dead replaced by the whisper of the wind through the trees.

Lying there, pressed against the cold dirt and the rustle of leaves, your chest twisted with a warmth that felt wrong and unwanted.

You turned to him and kept your eyes on him, just barely visible in the dim firelight, the way he crouched by the small, dying flames, lost in his own movements.

Why did he do that again? Why did he care enough to clean your wound, to bandage it, to stay close without saying a word? Was it guilt, responsibility… or something else? You didn’t know. You couldn’t read him, and that made your chest twist even tighter.

Your eyes pricked and watered, turning onto your side, curling inward, and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t feel this—he was the son of your father’s enemy. He could never be… yours, not in any way that mattered.

And yet, here you were, heart hammering, mind betraying you with every memory of his hands on your wound, the way he looked at you, the care in his voice. How could this happen to you? How could the only person who might ever… make you feel this way, be the one you were never allowed to want?

Anger burned under the ache, hot and bitter. It felt like the universe itself was punishing you, piling on, reminding you of your place, reminding you of the sins of your family. The guilt of your father, the wars he started, the blood on his hands—it wasn’t yours, but somehow it landed here, on your chest, in your heart, making it impossible to breathe without feeling the weight.

Your lips pressed together, and you closed your eyes, willing yourself not to want him, willing yourself not to ache. But the warmth stayed, a stubborn fire you couldn’t put out, even as tears slipped down your cheeks.

How could something so… simple, so human, feel like a betrayal? You hated it. You hated that you wanted it. You wanted the care, the warmth, the attention—and that desire felt like a rebellion against everything you’d been told to believe, against everything you should feel, against the world itself.

And you hated even more that you couldn’t stop thinking about whether he felt it too.

Your lips trembled slightly as you stared into the darkened woods, the soft sounds of his breathing somewhere nearby.

The ache in your chest was spreading, turning sharp, unbearable. When would it stop? When would this constant, twisting pain in your heart, your life, your head… end? You didn’t know if it ever would.

Your eyes drifted to the knife lying beside you. The metal glinted faintly in the dying firelight. Slowly, almost mechanically, you sat up, fingers curling around the handle. Your hand shook, the weight of it somehow both comforting and horrifying.

Tears blurred your vision. Your heart felt too big, too heavy, hammering painfully in your chest. You hated your life. You hated your father and the mess he left behind and you missed your mother.

You just wanted to… make this feeling stop.

The knife pressed lightly against your wrist.

And then—

The knife was ripped from your hand.

You yelped, stumbling back, eyes wide and blurring with tears.

Carl.

He stood over you, chest heaving, eyes wide with anger and shock. “What the hell are you doing?!” His voice was sharp, trembling with fear.

“Carl… I don’t want to… anymore,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I just… I just wanna—”

“No,” Carl cut in, firm, his hand gripping your shoulder. “I’m not letting you.”

“Carl, you don’t understand!” you cried, your tears streaking down your face. “You don’t know what’s happening to me! You don’t know what Negan would do… what he could make me go through!”

“I don’t fucking care,” Carl snapped, his voice raw, but steady. “I’m not letting you kill yourself.”

Your face twisted, a mixture of anger, shame, and helplessness. Carl’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he crouched down to your level, softening his expression.

“If I have to stay awake all night just so you don’t do this… I will,” he said quietly, his hands cupping your cheeks. “Shh… don’t cry.” His eyes softened as he looked at you. “We’re going back to Alexandria tomorrow. I’ve got you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You sobbed at his gentleness, your face contorting as the tears spilled freely. “Carl I… I can’t even walk properly at this point,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

Carl’s grip didn’t falter. His hands stayed on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears from your skin. “I know,” he murmured softly, voice tight with something you couldn’t name. “I see it… I see how hard this is. But I'll be with you, okay?..”

You wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him you didn’t deserve this care, but your body wouldn’t obey. Your legs trembled beneath you, your heart felt like it would burst, and all you could do was let the tears fall, let the sobs shake your chest. His warmth, steady hands, and calm presence held you upright, tethering you to a world you thought you no longer wanted.

And in that quiet ache, between your broken breaths and his steady gaze, you realized for the first time in what felt like forever… maybe it was okay to want to keep going.

You tried not to glance at Carl as he drove the car you two had found along the way. He had insisted on carrying you on his back earlier, despite your protests, and no matter how many times you’d told him you could walk beside him, your ankle—or more accurately, your inability to put any weight on it—had won.

“I’m not getting on your back, I’m telling you! I’m not that useless, Carl!”

“Well, princess, you don’t really have a choice, because your feet are useless now!”

“You can never make me.”

“Watch me.”

Now, the massive gates of Alexandria rose before you. Your heart thudded, a mix of relief, fear, and something you didn’t want to name. The car slowed as Carl brought it to a stop. He glanced at you, eyes soft, before stepping out. Hands raised, he approached the gate, and the front man lowered his gun, recognizing him instantly.

Rick appeared from behind the wall, worry etched into his face before it melted into a grin when he saw Carl. Without hesitation, he pulled him into a strong hug. You stayed inside the car, clutching the seat, watching it all unfold. Daryl and Michonne’s eyes flicked toward the car, sizing you up with a careful curiosity.

Carl finally turned back toward you, hand reaching for the door. He helped you out, and the world narrowed to just the two of you. The ache in your chest was familiar and stubborn—caught between fear, relief, and a pull toward him, even now, back in Alexandria.

After Denise finished treating your ankle, she left you alone, murmuring something about “rest and let it heal.”

Daryl had stopped by earlier, silent as ever, giving you a nod before he left. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t say anything—just a quick glance and then gone. You didn’t know where Carl was. He hadn’t been seen since he left you at the infirmary, and the thought twisted something raw inside you.

A sharp knock drew your gaze. The door creaked as it opened, and Rick stepped in, his face serious but controlled, carrying that familiar weight of authority and concern. “Hey… kid,” he said softly, voice steady. “Carl told me everything that happened.”

You only looked at him, unable to say anything. He sighed when he figured you would say anything.

“Your father is outside…”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, throat dry. You had known this day would come. You’d hoped it wouldn’t, but deep down, some part of you had always known.

After being escorted out of the infirmary, you saw the truck rumble into view, and there he was—Negan. His face serious, the usual swagger stripped away, replaced by something heavier, more deliberate. He watched you struggle to step forward, your ankle weak, and no one from his men moved to help. Everyone in Alexandria seemed to be holding their breath, eyes fixed on you, your stomach twisting under the weight of their gaze.

You wanted to look for Carl, to find something to cling to—but your gaze refused to move. Your legs felt like lead, heavy with exhaustion and pain.

“There you go… it’s time to go home, kid,” Negan said, low and controlled, his voice cutting through the quiet tension.

You dropped your eyes, avoiding his completely, and took a shaky step forward. A quiet sigh escaped you as you moved toward the truck. You glanced back once, just long enough to catch Carl among the watching crowd. His eyes were fixed on you, worry and something unspoken flickering across his face.

You quickly looked away, swallowing the ache in your chest, and slid into the truck.

taglist:

Ellie was just… another person in the mix.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

There was never a moment where you thought about her too deeply. You didn’t wonder what she felt, or care why she laughed the way she did, or why she took up space so easily. She wasn’t someone you studied or really tried to understand.

Well... partly because when you’ve been stuck in the same large friend group since middle school, you learn a few things.

You learn that people blur when there are too many of them. Someone will always end up closer to someone else than the rest. And no one decides it. It just happens. You stop keeping track of who’s close to who, who talks to who more, who drifts. It doesn't matter, and honestly? It’s easier not to think about it.

But the thing is… even not choosing someone, in its own way, is still a choice.

That’s the part you hadn’t realized until years later, when Ellie—out of nowhere—decided to bother you. Of all people.

She went from being someone who was “just another person” to someone who could never leave you alone. And maybe you should have appreciated it, right?—because the person you barely noticed ends up meaning more than you expected. The kind of thing that changes what friendship even is.

But no. You didn’t. You couldn’t appreciate a single thing she did—not when she made it her mission to get under your skin every chance she got.

You remember the day she started… whatever this thing was.

It was seventh grade.

You were in the gym locker room when she “just happened” to knock over her water bottle, and the dark splash immediately spread across your neatly folded uniform.

You gasped lightly and froze, unsure whether to be furious or embarrassed.

All you heard was her low snort before she walked out without a word, leaving you there, eyes shifting from her to the mess, unable to say anything.

When you saw her again at Jesse’s house for a hangout with everyone else the following weekend, you never expected her to apologize.

You assumed she’d already forgotten the locker room incident—or didn’t care—so you let it slide. You didn’t hold a grudge exactly, but you had nothing to say to her either, and you certainly didn’t want to, especially after what happened.

You thought that was the first and the last, but oh, you were entirely wrong.

The next week, you were running late for class when she suddenly appeared out of nowhere and “bumped into you” in the hallway, sending your books flying. She crouched down—not to help—but to pick one up, flip through it, and hand it back with the pages bent, the cover half-closed, as if she’d lost interest halfway through.

And again, you were left standing there, dumbfounded. Why the hell did she do that? Your irritation pricked at the nerve of this girl.

By the end of seventh grade, she had managed to rile you with every stunt she pulled—whether it was dipping her brush into your palette instead of her own in art class, swirling your colors together until they looked like swamp water (and having the nerve to tell you it “looked better that way”), or getting you detention for a stink bomb she’d planned during one of your science experiments.

Eighth grade came fast after that.

By then, you’d started expecting the little chaos she brought into your life—but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Over time, you’d just learned to ignore her, roll your eyes, or pretend she wasn’t there, even as she somehow always appeared in the right place at the wrong time for you.

Even with everyone around, Ellie found ways to make it about you. The more things changed, the more you realized… she wasn’t just careless.

That year, though, was the first time she did something so cruel it actually hurt.

It was PE. You’d been stuck as goalie during practice, half-distracted because your eyes kept drifting to the guy Dina had mentioned who had a crush on you.

You didn’t even see it coming—Ellie’s kick sent the ball rocketing straight into your face. The pain hit first, followed by the warm trickle from your nose.

Before you could even register what happened, Ellie was already sprinting off, vanishing behind the equipment shed before your wrath could reach her. You knew she’d done it on purpose, and the flash of guilt on her face as she ran was the only thing that stopped you from chasing her down.

“Oh my god!” Dina and the others exclaimed as you held your bleeding nose, your head spinning from both the pain and the shock.

It was always like that with Ellie—petty accidents she could pass off as coincidences, stacking up until they simmered under your skin like a slow burn she seemed determined to keep alive.

Looking back, it was easier to brush off. You were kids, and half the time you thought she just didn’t know how to leave you alone.

By ninth grade, everything about you was changing.

You started experimenting with makeup, texting boys you barely knew but secretly liked, and swapping your usual jeans and tees for skirts and tops older girls seemed to pull off effortlessly. You’d even joined the cheer team, trading afternoons of free time for tumbling practice and memorizing routines.

And Ellie? She wasn’t that little rascal who pulled stunts on you anymore. She’d joined the basketball team, spending her afternoons shooting hoops with Alex and the others. That was good, you thought—she’d have other things to do than bother you.

Though, on the other hand, it was also bad news. Your ten-year-old baby brother, Luke—an angel, really—seemed to idolize her, and you had no fucking idea why.

“Can you please tell Ellie to come over? She said she’ll teach me how to play,” Luke asked one afternoon, eyes bright with excitement.

“Are you texting Ellie?” you called back, suspicious.

“Yes…” he grinned. “She said she’d show me a trick she learned.”

“And you just believed her?”

“Of course! She’s awesome!”

You shook your head. Ellie still managed to worm her way into your life, even through your little brother.

“Shouldn’t you be on a diet? Like you said yesterday?” she asked once, watching you take a bite of your food. You froze mid-chew, glaring at her. That conversation had been private, just between you and Chloe.

“Were you eavesdropping?” you asked, deliberately mean.

She just smirked, clearly waiting for the perfect moment—and picked a fry off your plate before leaving.

You watched her ruffle Luke’s hair, grab his small basketball, and lead him outside while the rest of the group lingered inside, a usual hangout.

You still couldn’t understand what her deal with you was. It wasn’t like you ever went looking for her attention—you didn’t. If anything, you kept your distance, made a point not to orbit anywhere near her. But Ellie always had a way of making sure you were never too far from hers.

She might not be knocking over your water bottles or tripping you in the halls anymore, but she still found ways to get under your skin. She’d turned to words—each one a little poke, a little push, never missing a chance.

You’d lost count of how many arguments you’d had by now. At some point, the rest of the group just… stopped trying. It was normal. If your voices started to rise, someone would sigh, mutter “here we go again,” and wander off, leaving you two to tear into each other until one of you stormed away.

“Ellie’s the older one, she should just apologize,” Dina said once during the ninth grade, when a sleepover devolved into a ridiculous fight about what movie to watch.

“What? Just because I’m older, I’m the one who has to apologize?” Ellie shot back.

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your bag, and went home that night.

You used to think time would fix it. That one day Ellie would grow out of you.

But two more years passed—and she didn’t.

It was early summer before senior year, and the whole group had rented out a beach house for the weekend. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen, and everyone was scattered between the pool and the porch when Chloe brought up the guy you liked.

“He didn’t text you back? Wow. The nerve.” Chloe pointed when you told her he never replied after asking for your number.

You were stretched out on a lounge chair, sipping a fruity drink, watching Dina and Jesse splash water at each other in the pool.

“Who didn’t text who back?” Ellie’s voice came from behind you. She walked over, wearing a tank top and board shorts, and grabbed a slice of watermelon from the table.

“Her crush,” Chloe answered.

“Really?” Ellie’s tone was mildly surprised, but when you glanced at her, she looked… amused.

“Something funny?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your voice flat.

Ellie shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just—girls shouldn’t make the first move. You gotta wait.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes lazily.

“And if he didn’t reply, he’s not worth your time. He’s probably an asshole who only goes for hot girls anyway,” Ellie added, chewing.

Chloe tilted her head, pointing at you. “So you’re saying she’s not hot?”

Ellie choked on her food, coughing. You lifted your brows at her.

“He’s not a player like you, Ellie. Don’t compare him to you,” you said.

Ellie scoffed. “Me? A player? Since fucking when?”

You rolled your eyes again, not even wanting to answer that.

“And yeah, I’m definitely not like him—because if I were him, I would’ve texted you back.”

From the pool, Jesse let out an obnoxious, “Ooooh!”

“Stop it, Jesse. They’ll fight again,” Dina called over.

“Well, that’s because you’ll settle for anyone. You reply to every girl,” you said, taking another sip.

Ellie leaned forward, irritation flickering in her voice. “What—You’re not just anyone. I’d reply to you, obviously.”

“Of course, Ellie. But the person we’re talking about is someone I actually like. Not someone… like you,” you replied, your tone deliberate.

“What the hell does that mean?” Ellie muttered, gesturing with her hand.

Alex, lounging on the chair beside you, laughed. “You two don’t even have each other’s numbers, so no replying’s gonna happen.”

You shook your head as everyone laughed, the sound grating in your ears. Ellie muttered something under her breath before pushing herself off the railing and heading back inside the house, irritation written in the tight set of her shoulders.

After that summer, everything started to move too fast.

Senior year felt like a countdown clock. You were suddenly busy all the time—staying late for practice, trying to hold the squad together as captain, studying until your eyes burned for college entrance exams. Your world shrank into routines, pressure, and expectations.

There wasn’t space for anything else.

It was around November when you and Dina decided to head over to Jesse’s house so the squad could practice there.

As the car pulled into the driveway, you spotted Ellie and Jesse out front, hosing down one of the cars, laughing about something you couldn’t hear.

You weren’t in a good mood that day. Practice had been rough, the team wasn’t improving, and it felt like everything you worked for was slipping through your fingers.

“Oh my god, is that Ellie? She’s fucking hot,” Jessica said as she leaned forward in her seat.

You turned to her, eyebrows lifting, but she didn’t notice—already hopping out of the car with the others.

“Hi, girls!” Jesse called, flashing a grin.

Some of them giggled.

You climbed out last, juggling your duffel bag, shoes, and pink Stanley tumbler. You were wearing your short skirt, the sleeve of your top hanging off one shoulder.

Ellie watched you for a second too long before her gaze drifted away, unfocused, as she aimed the hose at the ground.

“Ellie,” Jesse called, noticing she was still holding it while you walked past.

You shook your head and jogged forward—until freezing water suddenly poured over you.

“Oh shit, Dina!” Jesse shouted toward the house.

You gasped, stumbling back, drenched. Your eyes flew to Ellie, who stared at you with a blank, unreadable expression.

“What the fuck…” you muttered, dropping your bag. You were about to lunge at her when Dina and Chloe grabbed your arms.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you shouted, livid, shaking as cold water dripped down your skin.

“Ellie, why did you do that?” Jesse asked, grabbing a towel from Alex.

“Aren’t you even gonna say sorry to me?!” you yelled, chest heaving.

“Dude, say sorry,” Jesse said, shaking his head. “She’s gonna hate you.”

Ellie finally met your eyes.

She shook her head slowly, her mouth twitching like she found something funny about all of this.

“I mean, what’s new?” she said, shrugging. “I don’t expect her to love me anyway.”

You swear that in that moment, you could’ve slapped her.

All your life, no one had ever made you feel like this—this tight, ugly pressure in your chest that only she could bring.

It was past three in the morning on a cold December when you woke from a dream of falling into a black abyss.

Lately, those dreams have been coming more often, and you don't know why.

Your room was quiet, save for the hum of the AC and Dina’s soft breathing, passed out drunk on your bed, Chloe beside her. Both were breathing softly after the night of celebrating your eighteenth birthday.

Everyone had gone an hour ago, and you’d only managed an hour of sleep.

Your throat burned from the alcohol you’d downed earlier before. You slipped quietly out of your room and padded into the kitchen, gulping water straight from the glass, when muffled voices drifted down from the rooftop that had to be from Jesse and Ellie.

Before going back to bed, you decided to check on them. With every step, their drunken laughter and voices grew louder, until you stopped just behind the door leading to the rooftop.

Ellie’s laugh cut through first, followed by words you couldn’t make out.

After what had happened that day, you hadn’t seen her much—not until your birthday yesterday. Dina had mentioned that Ellie was getting serious about getting drafted next year, so she’d been seriously busy.

Finally, that’s what you wanted in the first place, right? To finally be left alone?

“I don’t know, Jesse. She’s blind. She doesn’t realize I would do anything for her,” Ellie said, her voice soft, drunken, but surprisingly steady.

Your eyes slowly widened, heart suddenly hammering in your chest.

“Man… what? I'm so fuckin' wasted,” Jesse slurred.

You immediately went back to your room, head spinning with thoughts you couldn’t untangle. By the time you reached your door, the rooftop voices had faded, replaced by the soft hum of the AC.

You sank into your vanity chair and stared at the little pink package. You hadn’t even touched it before—didn’t expect to. Ellie? She hadn’t given a damn the past couple years, not since your sweet sixteen. And you didn’t care either.

But now… holding it, looking at it, you weren’t so sure anymore.

You untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside rested a bracelet, delicate but unmistakably expensive. The metal caught the warm glow of your bedside lamp, and the tiny rock embedded in the center glistened like a shard of sunlight caught in amber.

Your fingers lingered on the bracelet, feeling strange. Because for the first time in years, the hate, the annoyance, the resentment, and everything she made you feel—they tangled with something else, something sharp and unfamiliar, something you didn’t want to name.

You put it back immediately, staring at the ceiling for a moment before forcing yourself under the covers. Sleep wouldn’t come easily, but you needed it—you couldn’t let yourself sit with these emotions, not tonight, not ever.

The next morning, you were the only one left in your room. After a quick round of morning routines, you padded downstairs, hearing Dina’s voice and your little brother’s giggles in the dining room.

“Morning,” Dina greeted, balancing a forkful of pancakes with a pile of leftovers from last night.

“Morning,” you replied, ruffling your brother’s messy hair. He was glued to his iPad at the table.

“Morning, baby,” you said, and he gave you a bright smile in return.

Alex was half-asleep, spooning cereal into his mouth, and you glanced around for Chloe.

“She’ll be back later,” Dina said, reading your mind.

You frowned. “Jesse and Ellie?”

Dina just gestured toward the living room. That’s where you found Ellie, sprawled on the couch in deep sleep, and Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV while casually snacking.

“Did you two sleep here? I… left the guest rooms open last night,” you asked Jesse, your gaze drifting back to Ellie.

“Oh yeah, we were too drunk last night,” Jesse said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Not long after, the house slowly came back to life. One by one, everyone started grabbing their things, making plans for later, reminding each other about the New Year’s party you were all coming back for that night.

“Happy birthday again, babe. I’ll see you later,” Dina said, pulling you into a tight hug. You smiled and held on a second longer before letting her go.

“I should wake this asshole,” Jesse muttered, glancing at the couch.

He walked over and gave Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. She groaned, barely moving.

“Get up,” he laughed. “We’re leaving.”

She didn’t respond—so Jesse grabbed her hand and tugged.

It wasn’t long before Ellie kicked out blindly, muttering a curse under her breath as Jesse yelped and bolted away, laughing.

“Let’s go!” he called from the doorway.

Ellie rubbed at her eyes, hair a complete mess, blinking like she was still half-dreaming. Then her gaze lifted—and found you.

You were standing there, frozen for a second, just looking at her while she stared back. Her eyes were tired, dark circles faint beneath them, something quiet and unreadable sitting in her expression.

For a moment, you thought about saying something. Anything.

But you didn’t.

You turned away instead, heading back toward the dining room, your chest feeling strangely tight as you reached for a glass of water.

Fuck—since when did you ever feel awkward around her?

You told yourself it was nothing. Just exhaustion. A hangover. The weird weight of staying up too late and hearing things you probably misunderstood. That was all.

You took a long sip, staring at the counter like it could ground you. You’d dealt with Ellie for years without flinching—without ever caring—so why should this morning be any different?

It wasn’t.

That’s what you kept telling yourself all morning, and all the way into the evening—right up until you were standing in the middle of a house party filled with music, bodies, and the sharp smell of cheap alcohol for New Year’s.

You nearly gagged right there on the sticky floor when you saw it.

Ellie. Kissing someone else.

Dina didn’t even realize you’d stopped in your tracks, frozen on the dance floor with your heart hammering against the bass. Your eyes were locked on Ellie, pressed close to some girl in the shadowed corner, her hands resting at the girl’s waist, drunk to the taste of her.

And you stood there, wondering when exactly nothing had started to feel like this.

“Babe, let’s go, they’re over there,” Dina said, tugging on your hand and pulling you toward the sofa where everyone else had gathered.

You swallowed, forcing your eyes away, letting that heavy pit in your stomach settle deeper.

“Birthday girl!” Jesse shouted as he jumped up and wrapped you in a quick, too-tight hug. You returned it automatically, forcing a smile even though you felt the color drain from your face.

“Are you drunk? We just got here!,” Dina said, sliding beside Chloe, who was already deep in conversation with some guy you didn’t recognize.

You sank down next to her, letting the noise blur together—laughter, music, someone shouting from the kitchen—anything but your own thoughts.

“I’m not drunk,” Jesse protested, though the red creeping up his ears told a different story. “—Have you seen Ellie? Where the hell is she? My phone was with her.”

Dina crossed her arms, smirking. “She’s over there… making out with some chick.”

The words hit harder than you expected, even though you’d already seen it with your own two eyes.

Alex, Maxine, and Rafael showed up soon after, Jesse still rambling while Dina kept shutting him down. You stayed quiet, not really wanting to talk.

Someone suggested a card game, and before you knew it, you were all crammed around the table, the lights dimmed, music turned down just enough to hear the arguments.

“I don't want to be paired with Alex, she’s a rat,” Jesse complained.

“Fuck you, dude. You look like a rat,” Alex shot back, flipping him off.

Laughter broke out.

Then a voice cut through it.

“What are we playing?”

Ellie.

She stepped into the circle like she’d always been there, dropping into the seat across from you.

“Ellie fucking Williams, yes,” Jesse said, already switching places. “You’re my partner.”

You hadn’t meant to look—but you did.

Black graphic tee, worn jeans, her tattoo peeking as her elbows rested on her knees, legs spread casually like she owned the space.

Her eyes flicked to you.

You looked away.

“You’ve got a smudge,” Dina said, tapping her own lips.

Ellie wiped at her mouth, then glanced back at you, like she was trying to catch your eyes again.

You looked away, focusing on the cards in the middle of the table, on anything that wasn’t the faint echo of Dina’s words still ringing in your head.

Time blurred after that. Music thumped through the walls, laughter and shouts bouncing around the room, and the air felt thicker with every passing minute. Someone nudged another, and another, and before you knew it, a ridiculous suggestion floated across the group: Seven Minutes in Heaven.

And of course—of course—it was you and Ellie.

You tried to protest, rolling your eyes, but the group’s chaos swallowed every objection. Chairs scraped across the floor, hands grabbed at your arms, and you were shoved forward, cursing under your breath.

Ellie flipped Jesse off as he gestured, You’re dead, Williams, and somehow she looked way too thrilled about it. You could only glare at her.

What a fucking joke. Ending the year like this, pressed together with the one person you’d been trying not to look at all night. It was absurd. Humiliating. And exactly the kind of situation she always managed to drag you into.

Your mouth fell open when the door was yanked wide.

It was tiny.

Barely enough room for two people to stand face-to-face—no space to turn, no space to breathe.

“Fuck,” you muttered as someone shoved you inside. Your face collided with hanging coats, fabric brushing your cheeks. A second later Ellie was pushed in behind you, and the door slammed shut.

The sound echoed like a verdict.

You turned.

Her face was right there.

Too close.

Your breath hitched, lungs working harder than they should. You stared at each other for half a second too long—her eyes flicking to your lips before you snapped out of it and shoved her aside.

She stumbled back with a grunt, then laughed under her breath as you hugged the corner, sitting on the floor, knees pulled tight to your chest, trying to shrink into yourself. Your legs pressed against the rough texture of her jeans beside you.

Ellie dropped down across from you, back against the wall, legs stretched out.

“I’m gonna die here, I swear,” you muttered.

Ellie tilted her head, smirking. “Relax, princess. You’ve survived worse than me.”

You shot her a glare. “This is your fault.”

She scoffed. “Really? Last time I checked, you chose to join the game.”

You narrowed your eyes. “If I die from suffocating, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

Ellie’s grin widened. “That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes painfully, shaking your head. “Do you know how suffocating this is? I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

“You could breathe if you stopped whining,” she interrupted. “Or you could sit on my lap, whatever you prefer.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, scandalized.

Ellie raised her brows, clearly enjoying this. “You want more space? You know that’s the only way.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, in your dreams.”

“Already there,” she said easily.

You shifted as much as the cramped closet allowed, trying to press yourself into the corner, your legs brushing against hers. Every breath felt too loud, every small movement too close.

“Move,” you said, trying to push her legs aside. “You’re in my space.”

She laughed softly. “There is no space.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. The music thudded through the door, someone laughing on the other side, the world still going while you were trapped in here with her.

Ellie’s voice dropped. “You always push me away like that.”

You turned to her, expression mean. “Because you never leave me alone.”

“You never tell me to stop.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “We both know that’s not true. Get over yourself, Williams.”

Ellie’s jaw moved as she stared at you, expression unreadable, before she shrugged lazily. “You’re still here. That definitely says something.”

You laughed bitterly, low and sharp. “Says what? That I’m stuck with you?” You asked, voice thick with sarcasm.

“Maybe. Or maybe it says you want to be.”

“You’re aware how I feel about you, Ellie. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Ellie leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You could leave if you wanted. If you hate me that much… why don’t you just go?” Her tone was casual, sarcastic, daring, like she knew exactly how much this got under your skin.

You stayed silent, glaring at her, heart hammering, trying to shove down the confusing heat, the tension, and that familiar anger that had been building in your chest for years—at her, at yourself, at everything.

“I don’t understand you at all,” you finally said, voice low, trembling slightly despite your effort to stay composed.

You turned to her, expecting some kind of answer, but she stayed silent, her gaze steady, unreadable.

“Aren’t you even going to answer me?” you demanded, voice rising a fraction.

“Why…” Your hands clenched in your lap. “Why are you like this? It’s been what—since we were fourteen? Fifteen? I don’t do anything to you, I don’t bother you, I barely even talk to you… so why? Why do you keep doing this?”

She let out a long, slow sigh, a sigh that seemed to carry years of weight, and finally said, quietly, almost reluctantly:

Carl didn’t turn around. He walked like he already knew where he was going, and you were just meant to follow. Since that morning, when you two had woken up, he had refused to talk to you—or even look at you. It didn’t shock you anymore.

You could only watch him walk ahead of you.

Maybe it was easier that way.

Easier to pretend the warmth had been an accident. Easier to treat it like something temporary, like shelter from the rain—useful in the moment, meaningless after.

Carl didn’t look back and you didn’t call out either. You didn’t want to think about it—or anything at all.

You released a heavy sigh and stopped walking, tilting your face to the clear sky and feeling the sun on your skin.

“Hurry up,” Carl called, noticing you had stopped. His body turned slightly toward you, a frown tugging at his brow. His hand rested on the butt of his gun.

You stayed silent for a moment, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Let’s stop for a minute. We’ve been walking for an hour,” you suggested, voice steady.

Carl glanced around as if weighing something, then shook his head. “Let’s keep moving.”

With that, he turned and walked ahead, saying no more.

You shot a slight glare at his back as you resumed walking. The cut on your foot throbbed with each step, your body ached, and your stomach growled—silent but persistent, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten much since last night. You wanted, at the very least, a break from all this walking.

But then you realized Carl probably felt the same way—probably tired, sore, hungry too. For a moment, you let out a quiet sigh, letting the thought drift and settle.

Still, that didn’t stop you from speaking.

“It’s so obvious you’re trying to get rid of me fast,” you said, voice casual but sharp, as if throwing a pebble at him just to see if it made a sound.

He didn’t answer or even react.

You shook your head, scoffing lightly, finding it pointless to talk when he clearly didn’t want to listen.

The two of you kept walking until the dirt road faded into cracked concrete streets, old and abandoned, lined with empty cars and shattered windows.

Carl finally looked at you.

You, on the other hand, were staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the end of the street like it might offer some kind of escape.

“Let’s take a break,” you said suddenly, dropping onto a large rock on the side of the road without waiting for his permission.

Carl tilted his head slightly, already scanning the area. “We should keep moving. Before any dead show up.”

You let out a heavy sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Irritation crawled up your spine.

“I’m tired,” you said, giving him a pointed look.

“And I’m not?” he shot back sarcastically.

“Exactly. That’s why we should stop for a bit. But you’re not listening to me.”

“Not happening. Let’s go.”

You stared at him, disbelief flashing across your face. “What the hell is your problem? You know I get it if you don’t wanna talk to me, but I’m fucking exhausted. I don’t wanna walk anymore. And you’re the only one so eager to go back to the Saviors, so go. Leave me here. I know my way back.”

“I’m not eager,” Carl snapped. “I’m just taking you where you belong.”

Something in you snapped at that.

You stood up, anger simmering. “Oh, Carl, I know where I belong. You don’t have to fucking escort me.”

“This is nonsense. I’m just taking you back.”

“Oh really?” you shot back. “Then why were you in Saviors territory in the first place, huh?”

His jaw tightened. He cast a quick glance around the street, then forced his expression calm and started walking back toward you. “Your dad kills people. He killed Glenn and Abraham. Don’t ask me why I was there.”

“And your dad doesn’t kill people?” you laughed bitterly. “Really, Carl? He slaughtered Negan’s men in their sleep. You don’t get to talk like I don’t have the right to question you.”

The words hung between you, sharp and ugly, echoing down the empty street.

“I don’t understand why you defend your dad,” Carl said finally, voice low but cutting.

“I’m not defending him,” you shot back, heat rising in your chest. “I’m just stating the fact that everyone around you doesn’t stand far from the line where Negan is.”

Carl shook his head, jaw tight. “That’s not true. And you know it.” He shook his head again, locking eyes with you from a few meters away. “Look at you—you can’t even call him your dad.”

You didn’t answer. The words clawed at your insides, each one a jagged shard sinking deeper.

Anger bloomed hot and ugly in your chest. Anger at Carl—at the boy standing there, sizing you up, making you feel this small and exposed, as if your life could be measured in a single glance.

Anger at your dad, whose hands raised you with nothing but fear, whose voice carried more weight in punishment than in love, whose shadow lingered over every choice you’d ever made.

But most of all, anger at yourself—for the choke of truth lodged in your throat, for the weakness that made you silent when everything inside you wanted to scream… because he was right. Because this boy, whom you’d only known for a short time, had made you admit something you hadn’t wanted to face your whole life.

The truth that you didn’t belong anywhere. That no matter how much you fought, how much you spoke, how much you demanded, begged, or raged, the world would always feel too wide, too empty, yet too crowded with the ghosts of people you’d lost, the ones who had left, the ones who had been taken, and the ones whose faces you couldn’t even remember anymore.

And as you stood there in front of him, the boy who had almost made you believe it could be different, you realized it wouldn’t change—no matter where you were, or who you were to the people who mattered—or didn’t.

“You know what’s the difference between me and you,” Carl said, voice sharp, eyes locked on yours. His jaw was tight, fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t step closer. “I don’t let people I care about get in the middle of this mess.”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to cry, to tell him to leave you alone, but the words tangled in your throat.

“Oh really?” you shot back, swallowing the lump in your throat and ignoring the ache in your foot. “And who says I care about your mess? Who says I even care about your rules?”

He didn’t answer. He shifted his weight, eyes flicking to the cracked street, scanning for walkers like a reflex—but the tight set of his shoulders betrayed the words he wasn’t saying.

Without a word, he stepped back slowly, offering a look you knew too well.

“You think you’re so different from me, huh?” you muttered, letting your voice drop. “You’re just as trapped as I am. You just hide it better.”

You stood there, chest tight, muscles aching, watching him walk away—each step a reminder that even when someone cared, it didn’t make this world any less lonely. and the night before had only given you both a version of yourselves that couldn’t survive daylight, and now, in the harsh light, that version felt farther away than ever.

The abandoned grocery you’d just ransacked felt silent. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the broken glass windows, casting long, jagged shadows from the knocked-down shelves. Dust danced lazily in the beams of light as you leaned back against a wall, trying to catch your breath.

After waiting for your death on the side of the street, somehow, you’d managed to stumble upon this place. You found some food—just dusty cans of beans—but it was enough to quiet the growl in your stomach, a reminder that your body was still alive.

A sudden noise made your head snap up. Footsteps. You rose immediately, ducking behind a shelf and muttering a curse under your breath. You didn’t have the energy to fight walkers right now.

You held your breath, heart hammering, listening as the footsteps drew closer. Slowly, cautiously, you peeked around the edge of the shelf.

It was…

Carl Grimes?

What was he still doing here?

You stayed hidden, silent, only watching him as he moved through the aisles. He scanned the store, pausing in your direction for a heartbeat, and you froze, thinking he’d found you. But then he looked away, lowering his gun and picking up something from a shelf you’d already passed.

Carl shook his head, a look of obvious disappointment on his face.

You watched him move through the aisles, opening cabinets, nudging aside fallen boxes, checking places you already knew were empty. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was looking for.

Food.

Of course. Why else would he still be here?

The thought should’ve been obvious—but some stupid part of you had expected something else. Like maybe he wasn’t searching for supplies. Like maybe he was searching for you.

You immediately shook the idea away.

He moved closer, footsteps echoing softly against the cracked tiles, getting dangerously near the shelf you were hiding behind. Before he could round the corner, you stepped out.

“You just couldn’t leave me alone, don’t you?” you said, lifting a brow.

Carl spun instantly, gun raised, eyes wide and alert.

For a second—just a second—his shoulders loosened. Relief flashed across his face before he caught himself. Then he frowned, lowering the gun and turning his back on you, already moving away again.

“You’re the one who’s following me,” he muttered.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Really? Because if you hadn’t shown up here, I was pretty sure you’d already be halfway back to Alexandria. But no. You’re here.”

The words came out light, almost careless, wanting to get a reaction out of him.

Carl didn’t look at you. He just kept rummaging through the shelves, pretending you weren’t standing right there, pretending your presence didn’t change anything at all.

You rolled your eyes lazily, following him. “You know,” you started, tilting your head, “you could’ve just gone back. You didn’t have to show up here, making sure I don’t… what, trip over a can and die?”

Carl didn’t glance at you. “I’m not here for you.”

“Oh really?” you repeated, stepping closer, voice sharp. “Because it sure looks like you’re following me. Checking on me. Watching me. What—afraid I’ll eat something poisonous?”

He finally met your eyes, narrowing them. “I’m just here for food. I’m hungry, same as you. Ever think about that?”

You shrugged, sighing deliberately. “I don’t know… or maybe you just felt guilty for leaving me on the side of the street.”

“That wasn’t my choice,” Carl snapped. “You drove me away.”

You scoffed. “You walked away, Carl. Knowing I could die any second. You didn’t even leave me a weapon—and now you’re here.”

“You pushed me away,” he shot back. “And I know you can take care of yourself.”

“No, that’s not true,” you said, shaking your head. “I didn’t drive you away. This is your fault. If you’d just listened to your dad and never taken me out of Alexandria, we wouldn’t even be here. You made this harder than it had to be.”

Carl nodded slowly, turning to you. “Right. Too bad I’m not like that. I don’t just follow my dad’s orders.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. For a second, you really wanted to hit him. Instead, you let out a tired breath and gave him a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, well. I don’t care. Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re here.”

Carl muttered something under his breath and turned toward another shelf, but before either of you could move, a low dragging sound cut through the silence. Groans followed, rising, echoing through the broken windows, growing closer.

You froze, and Carl’s head snapped up at the same time as yours. Through the cracked glass, shadows pressed together, writhing and shuffling toward the building—too many limbs, too many faces.

A hundred walkers, at least.

You gasped and rushed toward the door, Carl right behind you, bracing it as the first bodies slammed against it. The wood rattled under the weight, teeth gnashing, hands scraping along the metal.

Your chest tightened, palms slick against the door handle, and when you glanced at Carl, he was there—jaw clenched, eyes sharp, breathing heavy but steady, the same way he had been the night before.

A strange sense of déjà vu hit you as the realization sank in. You were trapped again with the same boy. You let out a shaky laugh, half panic, half disbelief. “Great. Now it’s also your fault I’m gonna die today,” you muttered.

Carl turned toward you, eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the chaos outside seemed to quiet under the weight of his gaze. “Not if I’m not gonna let it happen,” he muttered, grunting as he shifted his stance, planting his feet harder against the floor and pressing his back firmly to the door.

Taglist:

Which was fair, because she was doing drugs again. A month out of rehab and she’d never even pretended to stay clean. She never really wanted to.

She just hadn’t planned on getting caught this soon.

When Rue got to Lexi’s, Suze was the one to answer the door. “Theyre at Maddy’s, getting ready for the Halloween party,” she said, smiling to Rue as if she was a guest she didn’t have to worry about.

Rue muttered a curse under her breath. Fuck. She stayed for a moment, answering Suze’s questions about rehab with the bare minimum of lies—everything went fine—and why she wasn’t dressed up tonight. She laughed, shrugging. “I’m just going as me. You know, the best thing you can represent is your true, authentic self,” she said, just to get out the door as quickly as possible.

Rue pedaled down to Maddy’s, just a few blocks away. She tossed her bike carelessly onto the ground, hand slipping into her hoodie pocket to check the Tylenol bottle.

She knocked twice, feeling nervous, before the door finally creaked open.

Rue was welcomed by the sight of Maddy, all dolled up—hair perfect, makeup sharp. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine, which, to be honest, she kind of always did.

“Hey, Rue,” Maddy said, a little caught off guard by her sudden appearance.

“…Hey,” Rue replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hands buried deep in her hoodie pockets.

“What brings you here? Going to the party?” Maddy asked, eyebrows lifting softly.

“Uh… no—I mean, yes… later. Uh, I’m just looking for Lexi. Is she here?” Rue’s hand went to the back of her neck as her eyes flicked toward Cassie walking past in the kitchen.

“Hey, Rue rue,” Cassie called.

Rue jerked her head toward her. “Yo, Cas. I need to talk to Lexi. She here?”

“Yeah… why?” Cassie frowned.

“...Uh, just—something,” Rue said with a nonchalant shrug, eyes darting back to Maddy, who was still watching her.

“Okay… I’ll get her,” Cassie said, disappearing down the hall, leaving Rue and Maddy alone.

“So…” Maddy broke the silence. “You’re going to the party… with that?” She gestured vaguely at Rue’s hoodie and sweatpants.

Rue stepped inside, trying not to look at her—but she did anyway.

“Yeah… why?” she muttered.

Maddy just stared. “You’re not dressing up?”

“No.” Rue let out a short, awkward laugh, glancing down at her usual hoodie and sweatpants. She almost repeated the line she’d said to Suze earlier about “going as herself,” but the words actually sounded fucking corny. So she shut her mouth instead, letting the silence envelope them

Maddy tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I could do your makeup, if you want.”

Rue raised her eyebrows, caught off guard by the sudden offer. She shook her head, hands gesturing vaguely in front of her. “I don’t really need to… I’m just here for Lexi, and I kinda need to… go home immediately.”

Maddy glanced upstairs, then back at Rue. “It might take a while. Lexi’s still getting dressed.”

Rue hesitated, rolling the Tylenol bottle in her hands inside her hoodie pockets.

“I mean,” Maddy added, “it won’t take long. You’re already here.”

Rue wanted to say no. She definitely needed to go back immediately. But the way Maddy smiled at her—sweet, unaware of how Rue was mentally counting the minutes before her mom started looking for her—made the word get stuck in her throat.

“…Okay,” Rue said instead, smiling tightly.

They headed upstairs to Maddy’s room, Cassie’s voice echoing from one of the other rooms down the hall, Lexi’s laughter following after.

“Oops, sorry for the mess,” Maddy said over her shoulder, pushing her door open.

Rue almost laughed at that. The room wasn’t messy at all—just clothes laid out on the bed, makeup scattered neatly across the vanity, everything still somehow looking intentional.

“It’s cool,” Rue muttered, eyes already roaming around. It was actually her first time here. She’d been to Maddy’s house before, but never this far. Never invited past the front rooms, never into something that felt this… personal.

Maddy motioned for her to sit on the bed.

Rue obeyed without thinking, hands still buried in her hoodie sleeves, saying nothing. She couldn’t deny the nervousness creeping up inside her, the way her heart felt a little too loud in her chest.

Maddy smiled at her before she started applying something to her face.

Rue tried not to look at her, but of course, her eyes kept wandering. For a full minute, they stayed silent—the only sounds the faint rustle of brushes, the hum of the house around them, and faint voices drifting up from downstairs.

“I’ve never tried this kind of look before,” Maddy said, breaking the silence, her voice calm but focused as she carefully applied eyeshadow to Rue’s eyelids.

Rue swallowed, feeling her pulse pick up, and shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how close Maddy’s hands were to her face.

She didn’t know why she was nervous that time. And everything happening right now suddenly made her want to pay attention to the girl she could call a friend.

Rue hadn’t really thought much about Maddy before—aside from the fact that they were friends and grew up around the same friend group—but she realized she liked almost everything about her.

Not just that Maddy was cool and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Rue liked how she was actually sweet, loyal to the people she cared about.

The only thing Rue didn’t like? Maddy’s boyfriend, Nate Jacobs. She hated him, actually. She’d seen him fetch Maddy after school, all cocky and fake-smiling, and she didn’t understand how Maddy could actually like him. Sometimes, Rue thought maybe there was something there—some reason—but mostly? Nate and his whole family were weird as fuck. She just shrugged it off every time.

They were in high school, and high schoolers did every dumb, impulsive, dramatic thing.

“All done,” Maddy said, smiling at her.

Rue looked at her as Maddy held out a small mirror.

She stared at her reflection. “Wow… it’s, uh, pretty. Really pretty.”

“Right?” Maddy turned her back, putting the makeup she’d used away, and Rue’s eyes followed her every movement. Only when she realized she’d been staring for too long did she look away, a strange flutter rising in her stomach.

Fuck.

“You looked really pretty tonight too,” Rue said, suddenly, like she had to fill the silence. She added, awkwardly, “Who… uh, who are you going as?”

“You’ll see,” Maddy replied, grinning over her shoulder.

“With… Nate?” Rue asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah. Of course,” Maddy said easily.

“You could totally dress up,” Maddy added, leaning back on her heels. “Just a simple tux could go with that. You’d look cool in it.”

Rue’s mouth tugged up into a small, surprised smile. “Really? You think so?”

Maddy rolled her eyes softly, a little smile playing at her lips. “Yeah. Duh.”

Rue went home that night, strangely smiling as she pedaled down the quiet streets. Her mom, talking on the phone, shot her a pointed look—but didn’t bring up what had happened earlier, and Rue didn’t either.

Her mom did notice the makeup, though. “Why the makeup?” she asked.

Rue shrugged, smiling. “To the party,” she said lightly.

Her mom gave her a pointed look again. Rue held up her hands defensively. “I’m not—I swear. I’ll be with Lexi later. You can even ask her.”

By the time she arrived, she was wearing the tux Maddy had suggested, feeling… different. A little lighter. A little more herself…

“Oh my God, I told you!” Maddy smiled widely at her as Rue walked down toward their sofa, the music thumping around them.

“Hey, Rue, who’s your date?” BB smirked at her, exhaling a cloud of vape.

“Do I need one?” Rue shrugged, keeping her tone casual.

She slid onto the sofa beside Lexi, her eyes flicking to Maddy, who was chatting with Kat nearby. She looked… really pretty tonight in her costume, way more than usual.

Rue only looked away when Lexi called her name, concern in her voice. “Did you have a fight with your mom again?”

“Nah,” Rue said, shaking her head, though her eyes immediately drifted back to Maddy, just in time to see Nate approaching from behind.

Eventually, everyone drifted away, leaving her and Lexi on the sofa.

Rue originally planned to come to this party—but not like this. She had planned to spend her night in some bathroom, hitting a line or two, zoning out, doing whatever it took to feel something.

“You’re not listening,” you grumbled when she didn’t respond, frowning softly.

Her face stayed calm, fingers moving across the keyboard, eyes narrowed slightly at the screen. “Hm… I am, mi vida,” she murmured, voice low and distracted.

You tilted your head. “Okay, then what did i say?”

Her eyes flicked to your hand for a fraction of a second. “Something about pearl charms being too bridal. They’re pretty.”

“That’s… it?” you said, mock offended.

She didn’t look at you again, thumb tracing a slow line over your hip without breaking her rhythm. “That’s all i registered. You talk too fast. Not that I don’t care.”

“You care enough to hold me like this, though.”

“Obviously,” she said, calm, clipped, eyes returning to the screen. “Mi amor, don’t make me lose focus.”

You sighed, leaning back against her chest. “I’m just saying, maybe i should’ve added a little glitter on top, or tiny hearts on the ring fingers, or even moons on the middle nails...”

She finally set the pen down, sliding her glasses off slowly. The crease on her forehead caught the light sharply, and she rested her chin on her hand, thumb brushing her jaw. Her gaze moved to you fully now. And just like that… she was staring at you and she actually looked so hot right now, you couldn’t stop staring.

You grinned and continued, delighted that she finally gave you her attention. You placed your hands lightly on her arms, tracing slowly along her skin, letting your touches contrast against the calm strength of hers, while you rambled on about colors and shapes, tiny details, completely oblivious to time. She just listened, calm, letting you talk, faint crease on her forehead softening only when you leaned into her a little.

Olivia was still at the table with her boyfriend, glued to his side like she’d evaporate without him, and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. He was ugly, he’d cheated on her more than once, and he had the personality of a dump sponge. But whatever. Not your circus. Not your clown. And neither of you were exactly qualified to judge each other’s love lives anyway.

Her eyes finally landed on you, red cup raised, eyebrow arched. “You’re not drinking,” she pointed out, squinting her eyes suspiciously.

You let out a long, heavy sigh, feeling her stare weighing on your chest. “Is it a crime to not drink now?”

Olivia scrunched her face, giving you the most painful duh expression you’d ever seen. “It is when you’re at a party sitting like you’re waiting for a doctor’s appointment. Or maybe a funeral. Bitch, you look dead.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, not even looking at her. You knew better than to fully engage—give her one inch and she’d take the whole fucking yard.

“Why even come if you’re just gonna sit there like that?” Her voice dripped with fake sympathy you didn’t ask for.

You stared at the ceiling, letting your head fall back on the couch. What could you even say? That she wasn’t annoying enough yet to make you leave? That this whole night felt like divine punishment? That her boyfriend’s sweaty grip made you want to cry? None of it mattered.

She kept talking, because of course she did. “Literally, just go out there and grind your ass on someone’s boyfriend. Or I can grab someone for you. You don’t wanna miss out on the fun, do you?”

You scoffed. Grind your ass on some sweaty guy who smells like Monster and cheap cologne? Yeah, no.

Pretty sure the only hands you actually wanted on you belonged to one specific person. But she might as well be dead to you now, so—yeah, what a fucking shame.

And you definitely weren’t telling Olivia any of that. Her straight, homophobic ass would have a dramatic meltdown right here on the floor.

“No fucking way,” you muttered, voice flat as slate.

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes so hard you practically heard them drag. “You haven’t flirted with anyone in months. You’re drying out. Don’t give me the ‘I’m focusing on myself’ crap. You’ve been focusing on yourself so hard you’re about to implode. You need to get out of this slump like yesterday.”

You stared at her, blank, dripping sarcasm. “Wow. Thank you for the concern. Truly.”

She held your stare for a second, like she was waiting for you to snap out of it, crack a joke, be fun again. But nothing happened, and you could practically see it click in her head — maybe you really were getting boring now.

“Whatever,” she muttered, standing up with zero effort or drama. She grabbed her boyfriend by the wrist and wandered off without looking back, probably to go hook up somewhere.

Yeah, whatever.

You pulled out your phone—not because you expected anything interesting, but because literally anything was better than staring at sweaty teenagers pretending their lives were edgy and cinematic.

Scrolling through socials offered nothing new. Mostly couples. Mostly Snapchat videos of the same party already unfolding around you. Messages were next, opened out of habit rather than hope. The thread that glowed on the screen caught attention immediately—a familiar name.

A thumb hovered over it, hesitant, before opening anyway.

You realized you and Ellie talked more frequently this past week—small things, mostly about the project. Dumb questions about homework. Memes. Sometimes you asked things just to poke at her, just because Ellie was way too easy to annoy when you tried. She’d reply when she felt like it. Other times, she ignored you entirely.

You scrolled until you landed on the last thing you’d said.

You:

okay but like WHEN are they gonna fuck tho? they just need makeup sex fr

Her reply had popped up two minutes later:

Ellie:

it’s TF 🫩

You:

tf?

the fuck?

You’d been left on delivered for three days after that.

A tiny laugh slipped out of you, soft and involuntary, before you scrolled a little further and found another gem.

You:

hey i saw your post, your plant died?

Ellie:

what post?

and no

You:

it looked dead tho

Ellie:

it's not

You:

yes, it is.

Ellie:

shut up

You:

haha

She was uptight about the smallest things, but also slipping just enough to make you laugh.

Sometimes, it wasn’t even the random late-night texts. Sometimes, it happened right in the middle of class.

You:

i just wanna say i can see your socks aren’t matching today all the way from my seat

Ellie:

Why are you pointing that out?

You:

just saying lol

kinda cute

it has tiny dino prints on your left

and spiderman on right

Ellie:

you're creepy

i can imagine u watching me rn

You:

lol

okay then maybe look back so you don't have to imagine it?

Ellie:

lol no

You:

why :(

You watched as she kept her head down on her phone, typing something, before finally sneaking a subtle glance your way. You grinned, a little too satisfied… over nothing.

Ellie:

you look like an idiot smiling like that

You:

excuse me?

Other times, it was those nights you couldn’t sleep, when your brain wouldn’t shut up and everything felt louder. You’d open your phone, notice she was online again, and—yeah, you couldn’t resist messaging.

Not that you needed her or anything really… just because she always had something sarcastic or oddly specific to say that somehow made your night less boring.

You:

y are u awake at 2 am

Ellie:

I could ask the same thing to you.

You:

answer me first

Ellie:

[sends an attachment]

It was a picture of her notes on a messy table.

You:

what a nerd

Ellie:

wbu

You:

what

Ellie:

What are you doing right now?

You:

secret ;)

take a wild guess

Ellie:

lying down with a facial mask on?

You:

whatttt

[sends an attachment]

It was exactly what she guessed: you, lying on your bed with a facial mask on. You watched the little typing bubble flicker for a moment… but she never sent whatever she’d typed. You couldn’t help wondering what it might have been, and for some reason, a quiet, strange little feeling settled in your chest as you drifted off, thinking of her.

The glow from your phone slowly washed over your face, and the small smile on your lips faltered into a soft frown. Your conversation felt more interesting than the sticky floor and stinking crowd around you.

Before you could dwell on whatever questions—or this weird little feeling inside—you decided to go out, maybe wander a bit, maybe head home. Not that you actually wanted to go home. But here you were, walking along the side of the street in the middle of the night, the cold air brushing against your skin because you were dumb enough not to consider grabbing a jacket before leaving.

Some cars passed by, headlights slicing through the darkness, momentarily blinding you before moving on. The faint hum of engines, the scrape of tires on the pavement, even a distant siren—it all blurred into nothing.

You could only think of one thing. One person.

This night would have been different months ago. You wouldn’t have been at some loud, sweaty party, hating every second feeling like you don't belong anywhere. You wouldn’t have been standing on the sidewalk, shivering in thin clothes, barefoot in metaphorical shoes of restless boredom, not wanting to go home, your heart quietly pulling in one direction it wasn’t supposed to.

You would have been in your room, curled up with your phone, talking to her. Asking how her day went. Listening to her laugh, soft and familiar, a sound you’d missed more than you realized. Making each other stupid jokes that somehow made the world feel lighter just because she's in it.

Or maybe—maybe she would have been already right here beside you, like she should have been all along. The two of you finally together, without all this distance or silence.

Only no, none of it had come to be, and this night was just like all the others without her, empty and cold—and the thought of her being anywhere else—not here, not with you—slipped into your bones, tracing the ache in your chest and making it pulse.

You weren’t even allowed to think of her like this anymore.

But when did wanting her ever feel optional?

After a few minutes that felt both like forever and nothing, and still debating whether you should just go home, you found yourself at Ellie’s window. The cold air hit your skin, your heart racing… and then the rock slipped from your hand.

It bounced off the sill with a pathetic clink.

You froze, waiting. No movement. Maybe she’s asleep?

Not taking any chances, you grabbed another one and tossed it, watching it land with a slightly louder thud. Still nothing.

Damn it. She’s definitely asleep now.

Determined, you picked up a bigger rock, ready to make some serious noise… just as the curtain twitched and the window creaked open.

Ellie’s muffled, paint-cursing voice cut through the night. “Fuck.”

You yelped, heart in your throat.

She appeared again, hand pressed to her forehead, eyes squinting in a mix of confusion and mild annoyance.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear,” you blurted, shaking your head as you looked up at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice low, curious but cautious.

You gulped, biting your lip. “I… uh… I was at a party, and I figured…” Your words trailed off. Honestly, you had no idea why you were here.

Ellie stared at you for a long beat, the corner of her mouth twitching like she wanted to say something, then just shook her head and leaned back from the window. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head, not fully catching it.

She rubbed her forehead, sighing. “Nothing. Just… wait for me at the front door before you break something else.”

Your stomach flipped as you backed away, shivering slightly in the cold night air, and made your way around to the front. You planted yourself by the door, heart thudding, trying not to look like a complete mess while waiting for her to let you in.

The door opened, and you gave her an awkward, sheepish smile, immediately noticing the icepack pressed to her forehead.

She stepped aside, letting you slip in, the soft click of the door closing behind you echoing in the quiet house.

Their large house was dimly lit, the shadows stretching on the floor.

“Do you even know what time it is?” she asked, her voice low and sharp, carrying that mix of irritation and disbelief you knew all too well.

You turned to her. “Uh… one a.m.?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s two thirty in the morning.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to explain, to apologize—but nothing came out.

“You couldn’t just text like a normal person instead of throwing rocks at my window?” she asked, voice dry but with that edge of exasperation.

“I swear, I didn’t mean—” Your voice trailed off as muffled voices drifted down the hall.

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward the stairs, then back at you. She tilted her head, gesturing with a small hand.

You followed her upstairs to her room, your shoes thudding softly against the wooden floor.

She opened the door, and you were greeted by the familiar sight: her desk cluttered with papers and half-empty mugs, her computer glowing faintly in the corner like it had been waiting for someone to disturb it.

“See? I knew you weren’t sleeping. I was right,” you said, staying standing by the door as Ellie moved to sit on her bed, pressing the icepack to her forehead.

Her room hadn’t changed a bit since the first time you’d been there a few months ago—every little detail exactly as it had been, from the posters on the wall to the stack of books teetering dangerously on her desk.

You let your eyes drift around the room, letting the familiarity sink in, before glancing back at her.

“Right. You’re actually a genius, coming here at this hour,” she said casually, eyes flicking to yours.

You frowned slowly at the obvious sarcasm, letting out a scoff. You opened your mouth to fire back, but your gaze landed on the icepack pressed to her forehead.

A soft sigh escaped you as you stepped closer, almost without thinking.

“Let me see,” you murmured, reaching for the icepack.

Ellie’s eyes flicked up, widening just a little at your sudden proximity. She didn’t say anything, just loosened her hold enough for you to take it. Her fingers brushed yours briefly before letting go.

She stayed quiet, watching you lean in to check the tiny bump. Her hands rested lightly beside her on the mattress.

“I swear on my life, I didn’t mean to give you a horn,” you whispered, voice low and focused.

“And… to be honest, it was kinda your fault,” you added, tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You took way too long to open your window, even though you were awake.”

The soft light from her desk lamp highlighted her profile as you leaned closer, eyes catching hers for a moment.

You pressed lightly on the bump; she let out a small, startled gasp.

You froze, pulling your hand back.

“Oh—im—” you started, reaching again, unsure.

“It’s fine,” she said, waving it off, resettling the icepack on her forehead.

You bit your lip, cheeks warming, and looked away for a moment, shaking off the sudden awkwardness.

After a beat, you sat down on the edge of her bed, leaving a small gap between you, hands resting tensely in your lap.

She exhaled softly. “You’re not drunk,” she remarked, more statement than question.

“Nope,” you shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes drifted across her room again, landing on the desk—a small disaster zone: papers strewn everywhere, books stacked sideways, her iPad half-covered under a notebook, her laptop in sleep mode, and near the edge, her glasses perched crookedly atop a pile of sketches.

“What were you doing before I shoved a rock at your face?” you asked, stepping closer.

Ellie just watched from the bed, icepack still in place. “Homework,” she muttered, clearly omitting something.

Your fingers brushed the edge of the sketch paper. Lifting one sheet, then another, you revealed pages filled with precise lines, perspective drawings, and architectural angles—houses, buildings, complex structures.

“Wow,” you breathed, eyebrows lifting.

Holding a sketch up, you smirked. “You’re that talented, huh.”

Ellie’s hand brushed the nape of her neck. “It’s just practice.”

“It’s really good,” you said, genuinely impressed, lingering over the sketches a moment longer. “Like… stupidly good.”

You turned to her, smiling. “What can’t you do, Williams?”

She scoffed quietly, cheeks warming. “Plenty of things.”

You noticed her hand move back to her forehead, pressing lightly over the bump—a tiny wince hidden beneath her calm exterior.

You didn’t comment, but your gaze carried weight, and she noticed.

“It’s fine,” she replied, eyes steady but tired. “Stop looking at me like that.” She glanced away, softening slightly. “I’ve had worse, trust me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Uh… when I was twelve, I crashed my bike and broke my wrist. My grandma nearly had a heart attack and banned me from touching anything with wheels for, like… three years.”

You blinked, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You wore a cast?”

“Yeah,” Ellie admitted, shoulders dropping. “It sucked. But I got to skip PE for months, so… kinda worth it.”

You grinned. “Of course you’d find a way to be happy about that.”

Ellie’s lips curved faintly, a subtle shrug accompanying it.

Then your brain made the jump. “Wait—your grandma?” you asked. “Is she here? How come I’ve never seen her?”

Ellie blinked, raising her brows as if to say try visiting in the morning.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes when she stayed silent.

“She must have already heard your loud voice awhile ago,” she deadpanned.

“I wasn’t that loud,” you countered, tone sharp but not mean—more instinctive than anything.

Ellie gave a flat stare. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Drag me.”

She shifted slightly, icepack held loosely against her forehead. “I’m just saying.”

Ellie watched you frown at the sketches and felt that flutter in her stomach, warm and very, very nostalgic—the same twist as four months ago.

It was… nice, having you here, quietly dangerous. She bit her lip, letting her gaze flick downward—to your outfit, the bare skin she wasn’t supposed to notice.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, afraid she might give away everything if you caught her looking.

You took your time with the sketches. One page showed a cat mid-stretch; another, a turtle with perfect shading along its shell. There was even a detailed anatomy breakdown of a dinosaur, tiny labels marking precise bone structure.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could help it.

Eventually, the room settled into heavy, late-night quiet. You glanced over your shoulder—a subtle look—but the moment your eyes drifted to her face, she tore hers away, staring at the wall like it suddenly mattered more than anything.

You almost raised an eyebrow, but let your gaze drop instead.

She was wearing a black hoodie, sweatpants, hair was a little messy. She sat awkwardly across from you, shoulders drawn in, as if unsure she wanted to be looked at tonight.

It was almost 3 a.m., and you were standing by her desk, fingers brushing over her sketches. Somehow, this felt more intimate than the party you’d left behind… though you’d never admit it out loud.

“You know what…” you said finally, setting the sketch paper down. “I should go back to that party.”

“And you should come too,” you added, glancing at her.

Ellie tilted her head, frowning slightly before shaking it off. “Not happening.”

“Not happening?” you echoed, taking a small step closer.

She exhaled, firm but soft. “It’s late. You should go home.”

You scoffed, a teasing edge in your voice, one brow raised. “Oh, yeah? Because coming here instead of going home makes so much sense?”

Ellie’s eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “I didn’t say it made sense. I just… don’t see the point.”

Your frown deepened. “But you’re not even tired yet, and seriously? You’re judging me?” You gestured vaguely at the chaotic desk. “This looks like a war zone in here. Perfect setting for… bonding?”

The corner of her mouth tugged up faintly. “Bonding? You’re not seriously using that word.”

“Yeah, bonding. Or whatever you wanna call it,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes.

Ellie let out a short laugh, amusement flickering in her eyes, like she was watching a demanding idiot insist on doing something most people would agree not to do at this hour, in this situation.

“Come on, it’ll be fine,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

“I thought you hated that party,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s why you left?”

“Did I say I hated it?” you countered, eyebrows raised.

“Then why are you here?” she asked slowly, letting her words linger like they might carry more weight than curiosity.

You opened your mouth with a sarcastic quip but froze, catching the look in her eyes. “…Because I didn’t want to go home,” you admitted, shrugging, a hint of confusion in your tone.

Her lips parted briefly, disappointment flashing for a heartbeat before she turned back to the mess on her desk. She didn’t answer, simply moving to straighten the clutter.

You stepped back, giving her space, feeling like she was gently dismissing you.

Clearing your throat, you tried again. “So… want to come back with me, or should I drag you there myself?”

She finally looked up, her green eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. They held a spark, daring you to push further—or maybe daring herself to say yes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, carrying a pile of papers to another corner.

You exhaled softly, glancing at her with a small glare, then flopped onto her bed, crossing your arms.

Fine. Sit here, let her do her thing. It’s not like I’m going anywhere either.

Ellie glanced at you, seeing your expression, and her lips twitched ever so slightly. She shook her head, pretending not to notice, and went back to stacking papers with deliberate calm.

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time we were at a party?” she asked calmly, eyes briefly meeting yours, like she was testing your memory.

You rolled your eyes, uninterested. “I don’t know. What happened?”

Ellie rolled her eyes back, turning away, and you frowned at her reaction, curiosity rising.

“Oh… are you talking about our kiss?” you asked casually.

She didn’t answer, pacing lightly, rearranging papers as if the motion could settle her mind.

You rubbed your palms against your thighs. “Alright, fine. We’ll be back home before four—thirty minutes, tops—and I promise not to do anything stupid.”

She turned to you, eyes fixed, voice flat. “You threw up on me last time,” she said, gesturing with one hand before crossing her arms. “And I had no choice but to drag your drunk ass home. You really can’t handle your liquor.” She raised an eyebrow, daring you to argue.

“Yes, I can,” you muttered, brows furrowed. “You haven’t even seen me drunk that much.”

She huffed. “No, you can’t. And that—” she pointed at her bed, “—you threw up on that too. On my bed.”

Your head tilted, freezing, eyes narrowing. “I don’t remember that happening.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t,” she rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath you didn’t catch.

You couldn’t actually remember going home that night. You just remembered the kiss…and the next morning.

“Where are your friends, and why am I the one being trespassed?” she asked, leaning slightly over her drawer. Her expression softened, eyes warm as they lingered on you—a quiet contradiction to the sharpness of her words, though maybe it was just the exhaustion making her gentle.

“They’re all dead.”

“Yeah”

“Yeah. They’re all dead. And boring, anyway.”

She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I’m not your friend though… And I’m pretty sure you’ve gone on record about how boring I am also.. So?”

You tilted your head to copy her, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Aw, you’re my friend, Ellie.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, clearly unimpressed.

“Okay, okay. This is the real deal.” You sighed. “I won’t drink. I won’t throw up on you—which technically won’t happen because I won’t drink. I won’t… kiss you,” you added, holding back a smile. Seeing her done-with-me expression made it impossible not to. “And we’ll go home after thirty minutes.”

She let out a long, resigned sigh, leaning over her drawer again. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

You shook your head, a small grin tugging at your lips.

Her lips curved briefly into a tiny, quick smile before she hid it.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “You just—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I’m not babysitting you.”

She walked past you on her bed, probably heading to change, muttering something about leaving you on the curb before the door clicked shut. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Her room fell quiet again as you waited, letting your eyes drift over the picture frames on her walls. One showed her sitting beside two elderly people—must be her grandparents. Another had a younger Ellie sprawled on a patch of grass, smiling wide, squinting in the sun. There was also one where she stood behind a little boy and a little girl. Your brows softly furrowed, studying their faces, noticing subtle resemblances.

Your gaze wandered lower, landing on the small stack of perfumes on her dresser. You picked one up, lifting it to your nose, letting the faint scent linger a moment before setting it back down.

“Let’s go,” Ellie called from the bathroom. When she stepped out, she’d changed into another hoodie, baggy jeans, and a beanie, her hair sticking out in that effortless, messy-cute way.

Her eyes flicked to your outfit. “You’re not cold in that?”

You shrugged casually. “Why? You gonna let me a borrow a jacket?”

“I mean, If you wa—”

You cut her off with a grin. “It’s fine. I don't wanna trouble you that much.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head, and headed for the door. You followed, keeping a careful pace beside her, your steps soft against the quiet night.

The streets were empty, the occasional flicker of a streetlight casting long shadows. Your footsteps echoed softly on the pavement.

After a few blocks, you spoke, voice low. “Hey… about that kiss…”

Ellie didn’t look at you. Hands buried in her pockets, shoulders stiff. “You don’t need to say anything about it,” she said, eyes fixed ahead.

“I know,” you admitted, shrugging. “I just… wanted to say something.”

You glanced at the pavement, biting your lip. “That morning, in your bed… I’m sorry you had to deal with me that way.” A soft, embarrassed sigh followed. “And you know I… I avoided you after. Which was dumb.”

You hesitated, quieter this time. “I just wanted to say it so you don’t think it was because I didn’t like the kiss… or that it had anything to do with you. I was just… dealing with some stuff.”

Ellie exhaled slowly, calm and distant. “It was months ago. And you were drunk then, so I didn't really think about it.”

“I wasn’t that drunk, Ellie,” you muttered, glancing at her.

Her eyes flicked toward you briefly, then back to the street. “Still,” she said softly, “I get it.”

The silence settled between you, comfortable at first, until a car passed by, headlights sweeping across the pavement and briefly illuminating both of you. The sudden whoosh of tires made the silence feel almost awkward.

“Speaking of which…” you said, squinting at her. “Are you dating anyone right now?”

Ellie shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ellie stayed silent, and for a moment you thought she wouldn’t answer. You turned to her, meeting her gaze.

“That’s a stupid question.”

You gave her a side-eye, frowning softly. “Okay… I’m just curious.”

“No, I mean—it’s stupid to ask why after I say I’m not dating anyone,” she replied.

Your frown deepened, and she let out a short, soft chuckle.

“It’s pointless to ask ‘why not?’” she continued, eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away. “There are a million reasons someone might not be dating, and not everyone wants to. It’s not a universal thing.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly as she realized how much she’d just revealed. She rubbed the nape of her neck awkwardly. “I just hate it when someone asks me that,” she admitted, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.

A slow smile slipped across your lips as you shrugged, eyes narrowing in playful disbelief.

“Sure, but tell me—who actually asks you that?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. “Fuck you,” she said, her voice dry.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, seriously. Who even—like, who dares?”

“Hey, my grandma,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand as if to emphasize her point. “She’s… relentless, you don’t even know. Every single time I come home from school. ‘So, anyone you like?’ or ‘Why don’t you have a girlfriend?’ Like, wow, thanks for the daily reminder that I’m forever single.”

You nodded slowly, grinning. “Uhuh. That sounds really rough and annoying.”

Ellie pressed her lips together, trying and failing not to smile. “I’m walking back home,” she muttered, already turning, like she was about to leave you on the sidewalk.

“Hey—hey, I’m just kidding,” you said quickly, reaching out and catching her hand gently before she could take another step. “You can’t go back. I’ll chase your ass down.”

Ellie pulled her hand away, trying a little too hard to look annoyed as she sped up, her shoes crunching on the pavement.

You only grinned, picking up your pace until you were beside her again.

“Relax,” you teased. “You act like I’m holding your hand hostage.”

“Yeah, well…” Ellie shoved both hands into her pockets, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Maybe don’t do that.”

But her ears were so red.

You walked together under the yellow streetlights, the warm glow stretching across cracked sidewalks and crooked fences. The closer you got, the louder the noise from the party house became — muffled bass, people yelling over nothing, the metallic clatter of a beer can bouncing down concrete.

By the time you reached the yard, silhouettes were already scattered everywhere — a couple pressed against the wall making out, someone hunched over the bushes puking, two guys aggressively arguing over the aux cord.

Ellie slowed a little as you stepped onto the lawn, her eyes flicking over the crowd like she already regretted agreeing to this.

“Come on,” you urged, nudging her forward as you pushed the door open.

Inside, it smelled like weed, sweat, spilled beer, and something fruity — probably whatever someone dumped into the punch bowl. The lights were a little too bright, reflecting off the sticky floor and the strangers swaying in uneven little groups.

Your eyes immediately scanned the room for your friends. You spotted a classmate leaning against the wall and made your way over.

“Have you seen Olivia?” you asked.

“She left like twenty minutes ago? They all dipped,” he answered over the music.

“Thanks,” you said before turning back to Ellie.

She was standing behind you, shoulders tense, eyes darting around.

You grinned at how out of place she looked. “Hey! Let’s drink.”

Before she could protest, you caught her hand and tugged her toward the kitchen counter where bottles were lined up.

Slow Hands was blasting from the speakers, vibrating through the cabinets.

“I thought you said you’re not drinking,” Ellie said, frowning.

You grabbed a red cup, poured something that smelled like battery acid into it, and shrugged.

“Shocker — I lied.” You held it out to her.

Ellie stared at the cup.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Fine. This is the only one. But drink it with me.”

You softened your voice, leaning in just a little. “Please?”

Ellie shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched — the tiniest crack in her irritation.

You grinned like you’d won something and lifted your cup first, tipping it back in one messy chug. The taste hit you like a punch. You almost gagged.

“Ugh—god—why does it taste like this?” you coughed, wiping your mouth.

Ellie took her sip next, and the face she made was so dramatic you burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ,” Ellie muttered, shoving the cup away. “I hate alcohol.”

You grinned, “Come on,” and started heading upstairs, the cup still in your hand.

Ellie followed reluctantly, muttering, “You know, alcohol actually takes longer to leave your bloodstream than most people think. Your liver can only process about one standard drink per hour.”

You laughed, nearly stumbling up the stairs, turning back to her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

You shook your head, laughing again. “You’re such a nerd.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in the way she matched your pace, letting you lead the way despite her protests.

“Since we’re not drinking, let’s explore,” you said, grinning widely, taking another messy sip from the cup before tossing it onto the floor.

“Explore?” Ellie asked, brow arched.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, smirking. “Like… explore.”

“Do what?” she pressed, suspicious.

“I dunno,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Tell me about alcoholic facts or something,” you added, teasing, before flipping the door handle of the first room down the hall.

Inside, two girls were tangled on the bed, making out like the world was ending. One of them looked up, mascara smudged, and flung a pillow at you.

“Get out!”

“Oh My God, that’s so gay!” you exclaimed, laughing before the door slammed shut so fast it rattled the frame—Ellie’s doing.

You doubled over, barely able to catch your breath. “Oh my god—your face—”

“Why would you just open it?” Ellie hissed.

“Why would you assume people don’t do that here?” you shot back, laughing.

“I hate parties,” she muttered flatly.

You just laughed again, shaking your head.

Undeterred, you pushed open the next door.

This time, the room was like a mini karaoke club—dimly lit, pink LED lights casting galaxy-like patterns across the walls. A guy was passed out in the corner of the sofa, a half-empty cup dangling from his fingers.

Ellie stiffened, already trying to step back. “Nope,” you said, grabbing the back of her hoodie before she could retreat. “Come here.”

“I’m not doing this,” she said, digging her heels in. “Please don’t—”

“It’s one song. ONE. There’s literally only a dead guy here, no one will hear you, Ellie.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“Pick a song,” you said, grinning wider than ever.

You shut the door, cutting off the noise outside. The room fell into a private little bubble, the faint hum of the LEDs reflecting off her hoodie. You gestured at the sofa. “Sit,” you said. She reluctantly lowered herself onto it. You sat beside her, deliberately leaving a sliver of space but close enough to feel her shift as you did.

Your eyes flicked to the table, where several bottles of alcohol were scattered. You grabbed one, poured a small amount into a cup, then set it down in front of you.

Ellie looked at you, brow raised.

“What?” you asked, grinning. “It’s just one shot. Pick your song now,” you added, smirking as you watched her carefully.

She shook her head, shoulders stiff, refusing to look at you.

The karaoke screen lit up. The opening beat hit, smooth and dramatic.

Ellie’s shoulders sagged in quiet defeat.

“Whoa, my love, my darling…”

“I've hungered for your touch…”

Her voice started soft, steady, almost resigned, warming up as she glared at the lyrics like they personally offended her. You watched, fascinated, the teasing tension from earlier melting into something more intimate.

Her voice filled the small room, the faint reverb from the karaoke machine blending with the dim glow of the pink lights. For all her glare and protest, she was singing—fully, completely—and it was impossible not to laugh softly at how impossibly her personality clashed with the song.

You leaned back slightly, letting the moment stretch, watching her, feeling like the party outside had disappeared entirely.

“And time goes by so slowly...”

“And time can do so much...”

“Are you still mine?...”

“I need your love…”

The song ended, and you just sat there, staring at her, amazed. The way she’d carried herself, the focus in her eyes, the unexpected softness in her voice—it was… a lot. Way more than you’d expected.

“You’re a psycho! How come you’re so good at everything you do?” you said loudly over the faint echo of the karaoke, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” she muttered, brushing off the compliment with a flick of her hair, looking annoyed but not entirely convincing.

“You’re good. Don’t argue,” you insisted, leaning back, shaking your head. “I hate you for real. You refused like a million times, but… damn. You’re just… so good at it.”

Ellie crossed her arms, pretending to glare, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her slight pride. “I’m not doing it for you, you know.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, grinning. “But still… I wasn’t expecting that. Honestly, you’re ridiculous.”

She huffed, a small smirk slipping out, and you laughed softly.

She looked away, cheeks faintly pink under the lights. You caught it anyway and grinned. “Okay,” you said casually, “let’s get out of here.”

“You’re not even going to sing?!” Ellie called, narrowing her eyes in mock accusation.

Before you could protest, she’d already cornered you into the next round. You ended up rapping some ridiculous, over-the-top song, shaking your head at yourself the whole time. Soon enough, laughter took over, and you winked at her, body swaying to the beat.

Ellie shook her head, covering her face with the back of her hand on the arm of the couch, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. Just before the song hit its chorus, she grabbed the other mic and joined you.

“I wish I took a video,” you said as you were leaving the karaoke room, Ellie trailing behind, still shaking her head.

“My brain is literally bleeding,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face like she couldn’t believe she’d survived that.

“Just say it's my voice,” you glanced over your shoulder with a smirk.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she scanned the hallway—people spilling out of rooms, laughter bursting through half-closed doors—before her eyes settled back on you. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The rest of the night blurred into something soft and strange, like a montage you’d only half remember in the morning.

You ended up back in the kitchen, squeezing past two guys loudly arguing about nothing before one of them took a drink and forgot what he was mad about. You grabbed a bottle, poured a shot, and slid it toward Ellie. She hesitated, staring at it like it might personally betray her. You just shrugged when she took too long and downed it yourself. She watched you the whole time, unimpressed, a little disbelieving.

Somewhere between that and the noise, you found a Polaroid camera abandoned on the counter. Film strips were scattered around it—pictures of unfamiliar drunk girls, two of them kissing, a guy throwing up while his friends posed behind him, another guy passed out on the grass like he’d been placed there as a joke.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Ellie, let’s take one.”

Before she could fully protest, you were already beside her, shoulder brushing hers as you snapped a few photos under the violet and pink streaks of party lights. You shook the pictures eagerly, grinning when the images started to bleed through.

“This looks cute,” you said, holding one up—your smile wide and unguarded, Ellie frowning just a little but smiling anyway. Another had her looking at you while you stared at the camera, completely oblivious.

“Can I have that one?”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised, before handing it to her.

She stared at the photo for another second before carefully slipping it into her pocket, like she didn’t want you to see her looking at it for too long.

The house started to feel louder after that—more bodies crammed into the kitchen, someone shouting for drinks, music blaring from a speaker that was definitely about to blow out.

You grimaced, leaning closer to Ellie. “It’s getting crowded,” you said. “Wanna get some air?”

She hesitated, then nodded, and you slipped through the back door together, ending up in the backyard where clusters of people hovered around half-empty tables and glowing string lights. You weaved past them until the noise dulled into the background.

That’s when you saw the pool.

It sat farther back, oddly untouched, the water glowing electric blue beneath the lights. A crooked sign hung nearby, hand-painted and stupid.

NAKED GIRLS ONLY.

You snorted.

Ellie barely had time to react before you shoved her.

She yelped, stumbling forward, arms flailing before she caught herself just short of the edge. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, spinning around.

You only grinned.

“Chill,” you said, already kicking off your shoes. You tugged your shirt over your head without thinking, leaving just your bra and skirt, and before she could stop you—or even process it—you jumped in.

The water swallowed you whole.

When you surfaced, your hair plastered to your face, you wiped the water from your eyes and swam toward the edge. You reached up, gripping the side, looking up at her.

Ellie was frozen there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like she couldn’t decide what to react.

You slowly smiled up at her, breathless.

She shook her head slowly, muttering something under her breath, but the smile crept in anyway—soft and helpless.

You held each other’s gaze, water dripping from your hair, the lights catching on her face.

“Aren’t you gonna come down?” you asked finally, voice light but hopeful.

Ellie slid her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, tilting her head toward the crooked sign. “It literally says naked girls only.”

You scoffed, smiling despite yourself. “Come on,” you said, softer this time, almost pleading without meaning to.

She smirked briefly, as if testing how far you’d go to convince her, then shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes, though the smile never left.

You turned away and swam toward the other edge, the water cool against your skin, grounding. The music from the house faded into something distant and dull, replaced by the soft lap of water and your own breathing. You felt lighter out here—untethered.

When you pushed off and resurfaced near the middle of the pool, you noticed her again.

Ellie was sitting at the edge now, legs dangling in the water, sleeves pushed up just enough to keep them dry. She was watching you.

You swam closer, stopping beside her with a little space between you, resting your arms against the pool’s edge. Your gaze drifted to the porch where the drunk crowd swayed and shouted, lights flickering over them like they belonged to another night entirely.

“What’s your plan after high school?” you asked after a beat, turning your head toward her.

Ellie glanced at you, then away, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie.”

She huffed. “It’s not. I just… don’t like saying things out loud before they’re real.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Then humor me. Hypothetically.”

She sighed, eyes dropping to the water. “College, I guess. Maybe architecture.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Of course.”

She shot you a look. “What does that mean?”

“It means that makes sense,” you said. “You’re always drawing. Measuring stuff. Rearranging things like the world would fall apart if they’re an inch off.”

She scoffed, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. “I also thought about astronomy.”

“That also tracks,” you said. “You’re weird like that.”

“Hey,” she muttered. “It’s interesting.”

“I know. That’s why it fits.”

She nudged the water with her foot. “Or physics. Or something with maps. I don’t know. Something that feels… solid.”

You studied her for a second. “You could do any of those.”

She glanced at you, doubtful. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not easy,” you said, shrugging. “But you’re good at things.”

Her expression softened, “what about you?”

“I don’t really think that far ahead. But I think I wanna model.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I just—yeah. That fits.”

You smirked. “You think I’m pretty enough?”

Ellie let out a short laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Answer the question.”

She looked at you, eyes lingering before she glanced away again. “You already know the answer.”

You leaned back against the pool wall, satisfied. “Say it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. You’re pretty. Annoyingly so.”

You grinned. “High praise.”

“Don’t push it,” she muttered, but her smile stayed.

You dipped your hand into the pool and flicked water at her, splashing her wrist.

She blinked, then sent some back at your shoulder. “Hey.”

You just laughed, dodging it as you rested your chin on your arms. “You know what would make this perfect right now?”

She glanced at you, suspicious. “What.”

“A blunt.”

She snorted. “Of course that’s your answer.”

“I’m serious,” you said. “This whole thing—water, lights, you not yelling at me for once—it’s missing one crucial element.”

She leaned back on her hands. “I don’t really smoke.”

You raised a brow. “Since when?”

“Since always,” she said. “I tried it once. Hated it.”

“You?” you said, disbelief clear in your voice. “No way.”

“I swear,” she said. “My grandma had weed for her glaucoma. I got curious.”

You blinked. “Wait. Your grandma?”

“Yeah.”

“And you tried it?”

She nodded. “Once.”

You tilted your head. “How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “It made me sleepy. That’s it. I fell asleep during a documentary.”

You snorted. “Only you would have a childhood weed story that boring.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, flicking water at you lazily. “Yeah, well… don’t think I was ever that interesting as a kid.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “I remember you in middle school—sitting alone reading some ridiculous book while everyone else was running around. I never understood you back then.”

Ellie smirked faintly, tilting her head. “Actually… I do remember you in seventh grade.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Do tell. What scandalous thing did I do?”

She chuckled softly. “During PE, you somehow managed to trip over your own feet while trying to dodge that dodgeball. Entire class laughed… I couldn’t believe someone like you could be that clumsy. And the school dance, right before the year ended… you puked all over the dance floor.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “Ugh… why do you remember that?”

She shrugged, amusement lingering in her eyes. “Everyone remembers that.”

“No way,” you scoffed. “That died out after I got called a slut for weeks because people thought I had a threesome in the janitor’s closet that night. Which, for the record, didn’t happen.”

Ellie laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Yeah… I figured that part was probably exaggerated. But the puke? That’s forever.”

You rolled your eyes, still smirking despite yourself. “Thanks for reminding me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, and I definitely remember my mom scolding me at home after that. She went off on me for ‘ruining my reputation’ or some nonsense.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? She blamed you for the puke?”

“I swear,” you said, rolling your eyes. “She made me sit at the kitchen table for, like, an hour while she lectured me about dignity and how to carry myself at school dances. Meanwhile, I just wanted to disappear under the table.”

Ellie snorted, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “Wow… and here I thought you were always so… untouchable back then.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “I’ve always been spectacularly capable of embarrassing myself.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Yeah… somehow I forgot about that part of you.”

You leaned back in the water, letting her amusement wash over you, feeling the night stretch lazily around the two of you.

After a beat, you glanced up at her again. “You sure you don’t have a girlfriend or something?”

Ellie let out a tired sound and tipped her head back toward the sky like the question physically exhausted her. “Why are we even talking about my very nonexistent love life?” she asked, crooked grin tugging at her mouth, betraying her.

You just shrugged, smile small, eyes drifting back to her. “I’m just saying. After high school—when you finally get out of this small town—you’re gonna have girls all over you. Like, genuinely. Flocking. Trust me, Ellie.”

She snorted softly, shaking her head. “I’m not really… that type.”

You frowned. “Type what?”

She hesitated, then glanced down at her hands, fingers absently tracing over each other. “I’m more of a one-girl kind of girl,” she said quietly. “Like… I only ever really like one person at a time.”

You blinked, then smiled. “Oh,” you teased. “So you’re a lover girl.”

Ellie shrugged, noncommittal, but didn’t deny it.

The water lapped softly against the pool’s edge. You studied her for a second longer than necessary before speaking again, voice lighter than your thoughts. “Am I your first kiss?”

She scoffed immediately, not even looking at you. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You laughed under your breath, intrigued now. “Oh yeah? Then who was it?”

Ellie didn’t answer. She just smiled faintly, crooked and private, eyes still on her hands.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

She finally glanced up at you. “How about you?” she asked, casual, like it didn’t matter—like she wasn’t carefully avoiding your eyes. “You got someone?”

“I don’t,” you said easily.

Ellie nodded once and said nothing.

You watched the water ripple for a moment, then glanced up at her. “We’re… friends, right?”

She hesitated just a beat too long, then nodded again. “Yeah,” she said. “Friends.”

You went home that night with a warm feeling settling in your stomach. The walk back was quiet, filled only with your footsteps and the cool night air.

The house was silent when you got home. Your room looked the same as it always had, cold and familiar, but it did not feel as empty. You sat on your bed and stared at the Polaroid longer than you meant to. Ellie was frowning while trying to smile, caught somewhere in between. You traced the edge of it once before slipping it into your drawer.

The days after passed in a blur.

School felt off that week. Some weeklong activity meant fewer classes and longer breaks, too much time to wander without really thinking about where you were going. You moved through your routine easily enough, laughing when expected, keeping up with conversations, doing what you always did. It all felt fine. Just a little dull.

It had been a week since that night, the last time you got to talk to Ellie.

You did not know when you started keeping track of days. You only knew that you noticed her more than usual. In the hallway, usually alone, books held close to her chest. In the cafeteria, sitting off to the side. Each time you saw her, the memory of that night surfaced quietly. It felt strange to have shared something that now seemed so far away, reduced to passing glances and nothing else.

By the time last period rolled around, you found yourself slipping into the seat beside her—far from your usual spot. She didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. She just kept jotting notes, the teacher droning at the front about whatever assignment you hadn’t been paying attention to.

Her brows furrowed, a crease of concentration—or maybe annoyance—across her forehead. You tried speaking a few words, but each time she gave nothing more than a clipped, minimal answer. Sighing, you pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper, writing:

r you mad?

She glanced at it once, then went back to writing.

you’re so bold ignoring me when I’m just beside you,

You added, passing it over quietly.

Ellie read it quickly, flicking her eyes back to her notes without a word.

You hesitated, then wrote another:

…seriously

Finally, she paused. Her pen hovered, and she scribbled back in a small, tight hand:

we’re in class. don’t distract me.

You stared at the note for a beat, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

Before the teacher called the end of class, you scribble one last note:

so… project at my place later?

Ellie glanced down at it, pen hovering just long enough for you to hope, then wrote back, brief and sharp:

got plans.

The bell rang, and the classroom started to empty. You watched as she packed her things—methodical, brisk, not looking at you once.

You watched her go, unsettled.

taglist:

She’d been walking you home for about two weeks now. After your last class, she’d always be there, leaning against the wall outside your room like she hadn’t been waiting for fifteen minutes already. She memorized your schedule—she admitted it with zero shame—and on the days she was late, she would jog until she found you on the sidewalk, breathless but grinning.

Now she kicked a pebble down the pavement, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her Letterman jacket.

“So, question.”

You glanced at her immediately with a flat expression, unimpressed, already shaking your head.

“No.”

Natalie stopped mid-step, brows pulling together. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Yeah, and I said no.” You shrugged, smiling at her.

Her eyes dropped to your mouth for a second—quick but obvious—her face softening into a smile at the sight of yours.

“Come on,” she murmured.

“Nope.” You shifted your books in your arms. “Also, why are you even here? Don’t you have practice today?”

Nat shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah but I don't really care. I would rather be here.”

Then she slowed, brows lifting as something clicked. “Wait… how do you know I have practice today?”

A slow, smug smirk spread across her face, like she’d just caught you red-handed. “Ohhh,” she said quietly. “So you do pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes, gesturing with your hand. “You literally mentioned it yesterday.”

“I did?” she asked, still smirking.

“Yes.”

“A little curious, aren’t we?”

You shook your head, trying not to react while keeping your eyes forward.

“Dream on.”

Nat snorted, a low, amused sound that made the corner of your mouth twitch.

“Okay…” she said, drawing the word out. “You don’t have to admit it, but I know you like me bothering you.”

You let out a small breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re very confident for someone who’s wrong.”

“Am I?” she asked, tilting her head, eyes fixed on you, waiting for the slightest crack in your expression.

You didn’t give her one. You kept walking, staring straight ahead.

Natalie fell into step closer—close enough that your arms brushed for half a second before you shifted away.

“Funny because you never tell me to actually leave.”

“I don’t have to,” you finally said, turning to her and trying to frown to hide your smile. “Common sense should’ve kicked in by now.”

Nat grinned like you’d just handed her proof. “Oh, so you want me to walk you home.”

You huffed. “I want you to keep your ego in check.”

“Not a fucking chance,” she said, grinning. “Not when you keep feeding it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. She’s relentless.

The two of you walked in quiet for a few moments, the hum of the city fading behind the rhythm of your steps. You tried to slow down, stretching out the walk as your street came into view.

“So… back to the question,” Nat said again, casual as ever, “can I court you?”

You froze mid-step, eyes snapping to her. “What?”

Nat kept walking, hands shoved in her pockets like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Can I court you? Like… officially. With rules and shit. Or no rules. Whatever you want.”

You blinked at her, incredulous. “Nat… you—”

“I know,” she interrupted, grinning wider. “You’re thinking I’m insane. But hear me out—I’m fun, I make this walk entertaining, and apparently, you like it.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “I did not just hear you say that.”

“You did,” she said, leaning just a little closer. “So, what’s your answer?”

You stared at her hopeful face. “Nope.”

By now, you were close to the front gate of your house, and the two of you stopped walking. Nat bit her lip, mock sighing. “Fine,” she said, “but I’m not going anywhere. You’ll see me tomorrow too.”

You narrowed your eyes, saying nothing, before turning your back—and then a small smile broke across your lips.

A few steps later, she called out, her voice playful and teasing.

“Let's talk again tomorrow… or you can just text me. I hate texting, but I’d try for you.”

In a shocking turn of events, Ellie Williams (18) founded an online hate club targeting the school’s most popular girl — who, sources reveal, she’s been secretly obsessed with for months. What began as a harmless outlet for envy spiraled into chaos in roughly four months, quickly gaining actual members and traction among students, amassing over 15,723 followers and more photos than a teen girl’s phone could handle. The page quickly became a chaotic hub of sarcastic commentary, outfit critiques, and polls designed to mock every aspect of Y/N’s life.

“It's not that deep,” Williams shrugged, as police documented her full-blown hate club online, posted sarcastic memes targeting Y/N, curated “Most Pathetic Y/N Moment” awards, and live-commented on her every selfie — declining to comment on her motives until counsel was present.

Authorities are investigating whether Williams acted alone, after police discovered screenshots showing the page alternating between “Y/N is so fake” and “why does she look good in everything?” The inconsistency has officials debating whether it was a coordinated smear campaign or a one-girl emotional meltdown played out online.

The situation intensified earlier this week when the pair were spotted together behind the school gym shortly before Williams’ arrest. Students who witnessed the interaction described the tension as “palpable and homosexual.”

Rumors continue to swirl about the true nature of their relationship. Some classmates claim the so-called victim was seen laughing at the incident, allegedly telling friends, “I’m flattered, but she’s still pathetic.”

“We take cyberbullying very seriously,” Principal Harris stated, though sources note she may have accidentally interacted with a clip of Y/N crashing out and photoshopped drowning in hell. Meanwhile, online discourse remains divided — with some calling it “a cautionary tale of obsession” and others insisting it’s “the most lesbian thing to ever happen at South Jackson High.”

Authorities are reportedly still seeking the victim’s official statement.

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© 2025 South Jackson Chronicle. All rights reserved.

𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒆 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓...

Ellie never really understood what she liked about you.

Sure, you were really pretty — like, criminally, “how is this allowed by the laws of physics” pretty. The kind of pretty that made her want to throw her entire life out the window and also start a conspiracy blog about you. Pretty in a way that you looked like something the sun left behind — a little too bright, a little too untouchable, a kind of glow that made people stop mid-sentence and forget what they were saying.

It was infuriating. You were infuriating. Every hair flip felt like a personal attack. Every smirk felt like a hate crime. Ellie swore you existed solely to ruin her peace — which, to be fair... wasn’t very stable to begin with.

She told herself it wasn’t that deep, that she just found you aesthetically annoying. And yet, every time you walked by, her brain hit the emergency shutdown button like it was Windows XP in 2003.

You made everyone feel like a sad side character in their own movie — and Ellie? She was the one holding the boom mic, wondering why the universe cast her in the background of your story.

And liking you enough to ruin her life? That was next-level catastrophic. She couldn’t eat properly. She couldn’t sleep. All she could do was imagine what it would feel like to date you… which honestly sounded like signing up for a full-time horror movie — and she’d be the character who makes every dumb decision imaginable and dies in the first act.

It would be hell, she knew. You were cruel. She’d seen you reject guys in the halls — genuine ones, asshole ones, all of them — and then smile like it was sport. That tiny smirk on your lips wasn’t just victory; it was warning.

And what made her any different from those guys? Nothing. She could only watch, sigh dramatically, and pretend she didn’t care. You were way out of her league, and even if she somehow got the chance, there’d be nothing left of her by the end of the month.

If she ever got the chance.

Which was not going to fucking happen.

Not in this lifetime, anyway. That’s what she told herself. And every time she thought about graduating high school without ever getting to hold your hand — not even once — she wanted to kill herself.

It was pathetic, really. You’d probably laugh if you knew. Wait, not probably — you’d definitely laugh. You’d humiliate her and her little gay heart right in front of everyone. And because you lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone, the story would never die. Thirty years from now, someone’s dad would still bring it up at a barbecue — “Hey, remember that girl who confessed to her?” — over a plate of dry ribs and cheap beer.

She could already picture it. You, tilting your head, smiling that evil little smile, saying, “You? Like me?” And she’d just spontaneously combust on the spot. Zero evidence.

And she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

She hated that — hated that she couldn’t do anything about it.

Aside from that, she also hated being broke. And living in this stupid small town. And being gay. And ugly. Which basically ranked her somewhere between the vegetables in the school’s social hierarchy — and not even the decent ones, but the sad, overboiled peas no one touches at lunch. It was like God looked at her and said, “strongest soldier,” and she wanted to yell back, “please, just pick another one already.”

Sometimes she’d stare at the ceiling and think about how unfair it was that you got to walk around like a main character while she was stuck as the background extra whose only line was “huh?” in the cafeteria scene.

And yet, despite all that righteous self-pity, she couldn’t stop liking you.

Okay, fine—she lied about not doing anything about it. Because she might’ve followed you home. Once or twice. Or, like, a few days in a row.

Not in a creepy way (debatable) but in a “wow, she even walks like that in her natural habitat” kind of way. She’d trail behind you from a totally normal, not-at-all-suspicious distance—phone in hand, earbuds in, pretending to text—while mentally narrating it like some deranged nature documentary.

She noticed you never really looked around, completely unaware of how unsafe the world could be. What if someone followed you home? What if someone tried to kidnap you? She could only imagine the possibilities. Not that she would, of course. She wasn’t that far gone.

Also, she already stopped doing that, after one afternoon ended with her getting chased halfway down the block by three dogs that looked like they’d been training for that exact opportunity.

That was the day Ellie decided maybe unrequited love was safer from a distance.

And for the most part, she stuck to it.

She kept her head down, stayed in her lane, pretended she wasn’t terminally in love with someone who didn’t even know she existed.

It worked — kind of. Except for the moments that felt like temporary passes to heaven.

Like that one Tuesday.

She was walking down the hall, guitar slung over her shoulder, trying to act normal — which, for Ellie, meant overthinking how she was holding her hands.

And then she saw you.

You were leaning against the lockers with your friends, hair twirled around your finger, laughing at something one of them said. A laugh that made everything else fade out — including common sense, depth perception, and basic survival instincts.

So naturally, Ellie kept looking.

And that’s when she walked straight into the door.

Not a subtle bump, either — a full, skull-to-metal collision that made the hallway go quiet for a second before everyone burst out laughing.

You turned just in time to catch it. And you looked at her like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing — and then you laughed… effortlessly. Like the universe had decided to humiliate her and gift her a glimpse of heaven at the same time.

“Oh my god,” you said, grinning, “are you okay?”

Ellie knew you weren’t really asking if she was okay, but she answered anyway. She blinked, dazed. “Yeah,” she managed weakly, rubbing her forehead. “I’m just—uh—gonna sit for a bit.”

And she did. Right there on the floor, guitar still hanging off her shoulder, surrounded by her scattered dignity.

Your friends were still laughing, but you kept watching her a little too long — just long enough for her to think, yeah, maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad if you were the last thing she saw.

That smile haunted her for weeks.

Like, full-on dead wife character flashback montage level haunted.

She’d be sketching in her notebook during class and—boom—your face. The way your lips curved when you laughed, the way your eyes squinted just slightly. It was ridiculous. She’d tell herself she was just practicing realism, but everyone knew damn well she was drawing you from memory like some lovesick Victorian man dying of tuberculosis.

Her sketchbook turned into a shrine she pretended wasn’t a shrine. You were everywhere—half-finished doodles, random side profiles, little notes like “hair falls like this???” and “how the fuck do I draw your stupid perfect mouth.”

And whenever she saw you again, it got worse.

Like that one morning when you walked by, confidently wearing that baby pink tiny skirt—the one that looked like it was scientifically engineered to ruin her focus and her GPA in one go.

Ellie froze halfway through slamming her locker, her eyes flicked down before she could stop herself, then immediately shot back up like she’d just committed a crime.

How were you even walking around with that thing?

Like, was it taped on? Was there an engineering degree involved? She didn’t know, and frankly, she wasn’t sure she could survive finding out. All she knew was that her pulse was doing jumping jacks, and she was definitely going to hell.

That skirt haunted her like a recurring nightmare she didn’t even want to wake up from.

And then a week later, the universe decided she was getting too comfortable.

She was at the cafeteria, minding her own business, half-asleep over a tray of something that might’ve been chicken. You were sitting a few tables away, surrounded by your usual orbit of friends.

Someone said her name.

“Ellie Williams?”

And you didn’t even hesitate.

You scrunched your nose, tilted your head a little — that pretty little disgusted face — and said,

“Ew.”

Ellie froze. Fork mid-air. Heart doing something medically concerning.

She laughed it off, or tried to, because what else was she supposed to do? Crawl under the table? Ascend to another plane? Pretend it didn’t gut her alive? Pretend she hadn’t drawn your smile fifty different times like some pathetic little art project about unrequited feelings?

She cried that night. Then she tore her drawings apart — the ones where she actually got your eyes right, where your smile looked soft, where she let herself pretend you’d ever look at her like that.

She regretted it immediately.

Because how could you?

How could you look that pretty and say her name like that?

How could you ruin her so easily, without even trying?

It was stupid. She was stupid.

It was fucking stupid how you already knew she was the kind of girl who’d fall for someone like you — and you hated her for it.

How you saw right through her before she even had the chance to hide it.