Lottielee Weekend

Laura Lee’s room was quiet (it wouldn’t be much longer), save for the faint sound of the cicadas outside. Her bible lay closed on the nightstand, its pages worn soft at the edges. Leonard sat beside it.

Lottie stood near the door, not quite stepping in yet, like she was a vampire waiting to be invited. Laura Lee watched her, feeling that usual ache in her flesh, the one that always came with Lottie’s presence. It was a soft ache. Dangerous, maybe.

“You can sit” Laura Lee said finally, patting the spot beside her. Her voice cracked a little, as did the wooden floor boards as Lottie walked.

Lottie followed Laura Lee’s instruction and sat. She looked down at her hands for a long time, twisting her fingers together. When she finally spoke, it was quiet.

“I’ve been thinking about baptisms.”

Laura Lee tilted her head. “What about them?”

Lottie didn’t look at her. “About… what they really mean. What they’re for. Not just water and forgiveness, but-” she paused, pressing her lips together, “-surrender. Trust. Letting yourself be known completely.”

A beat of silence.

Laura Lee swallowed, slowly. “They’re about giving yourself to God.”

Lottie nodded, then finally turned to look at her, really look. Her eyes were dark in contrast of the warm lap light, they were searching.

“What if I want to give myself to you?”

The words came out like a breath. They hovered between them, heavy and trembling.

Laura Lee’s own breath caught.

“Lottie…”

“I’m not asking you to sin” Lottie said, and her voice was somehow both earnest and afraid. “I’m asking you to… see me. To let me be reborn in you.. in your goodness.”

Laura Lee looked down. Her heart was hammering, but she didn’t move away.

“You think I’m… good?”

“I think you’re holy” Lottie whispered. “In a way no one’s ever let me be. In a way that makes me want to stop hiding.”

“I can’t baptize you” Laura Lee said with a hint of guilt. “Not the way you’re asking.”

“I know” Lottie said. “But maybe you could… baptize me in another way.”

“How?”

“Give me some of your baptism, some of you.” Lottie said ready to explain what she meant to the innocent Christian girl. But she didn’t need to, Laura Lee knew.

Lottie barely had time to breathe before Laura Lee’s hands were on her shoulders, gently but surely guiding her down onto the bed, as though she were being lowered into water. Lottie let herself go weightless beneath Laura Lee’s touch, as though she was floating.

Laura Lee kissed her. It was hesitant, then hungry. Like the release of something long dammed up, too sacred to touch until now.

Lottie’s hands clutched at Laura Lee’s back, anchoring herself as heat boiled between them. She gasped softly into Laura Lee’s mouth when a thigh slid between hers, the contact making the baptism start immersing in their undergarments.

Lottie’s hips moved instinctively, chasing the feeling, and Laura Lee let out a sound—soft, involuntary, nearly a moan—at the sight of Lottie. Panting and flushed, grinding softly beneath her like she wanted to sink deeper.

Laura Lee kissed her again, deeper this time, tongue sliding past Lottie’s lips as their bodies moved in sync, hands exploring under clothes now. Lottie’s fingers tangled in the waistband of Laura Lee’s skirt, tugging it, not tearing it off, but pulling at it slowly, desperately, like every inch of skin mattered.

They moved together in waves of friction and heat. Lottie’s thighs squeezed together as pleasure built like pressure behind a dam. Each roll of their hips more desperate.

“You feel-” Lottie began, but the words caught on a moan as Laura Lee rocked down just right.

Laura Lee now reached for Lottie’s waistband, but unlike slow and steady Lottie, she got to the point. “Can I?”

“Ah yes” Lottie breathed and they took a moment to both remove each other’s outer layer.

Once they were off, Laura Lee pressed back down to start grinding again, they moaned as they were met with each other’s wetness through thin underwear.

Laura Lee so desperately wanted to dip her hand into Lottie’s slick juices, so once again she asked: “Can I?”

Lottie nodded, her voice lost in the rush of heat flooding through her. “Please.”

Laura Lee slid her hand lower, over damp lace, pressing gently—testing, learning. Lottie’s entire body shuddered, her thighs sucking in Laura Lee’s hand.

“Oh God” she choked out when Laura Lee went under the fabric. “-Sorry. That’s… bad timing.”

Laura Lee didn’t pull her hand away, instead she aligned a finger with her entrance. “He’s not listening right now I hope.” She sinks the finger in and Lottie moans Laura Lee’s name this time.

As nervous as Laura Lee is, her finger doesn’t show it. She moves inside Lottie like she doesn’t relate to the Virgin Mary so much after all.

Lottie whines and purrs like she relates to a cat in heat.

“You’re shaking” Laura Lee murmured.

“So are you” Lottie gasped.

Laura Lee presses harder at the call out. Lottie bit her lip, her pussy walls ching around the finger, but craving more.

“Ahhnother”

Laura Lee complys, letting out a moan of her own at how easy the wetness sucked her in.

“Fuck-” Lottie exhaled . “Sorry. I know you hate when I-”

“I don’t hate it” Laura Lee said, her voice dark and unsteady. “I think I just hate that I like it.”

Lottie’s own eyes darken at that. “Fuckk”

At that, Laura Lee rammed her lips back into Lottie’s. Taking Lottie’s breath away before moving down her neck, to her shoulder, to-

Laura Lee’s mouth was on her boobs now, and already sucking over her clothes. As she still manages to keep her fingers busy working in Lottie’s cunt.

Lottie is just a happy pool—or maybe a hot tub—letting Laura Lee swim around in her.

Laura Lee does her best to continue but the fabric was in the way. It clung to Lottie’s skin, soaked from saliva. Laura Lee could feel everything she wanted just beneath it, soft skin, hard nipple, the shiver that ran through Lottie every time her mouth brushed close and her finger kept her close.

And still, the barrier stayed between them, and Laura Lee couldn’t stand it anymore.

She groaned against Lottie’s chest, frustrated, aroused, and maybe a little possessed.

“This-” she muttered, tugging at the edge of Lottie’s shirt with her free hand “-is in the way.”

The air was humid with sweat, but Lottie still shivered the second her chest was bared, nipples hard and aching just like her clit. Laura Lee tossed her clothes to the floor and stared down at her.

Then her mouth was back on Lottie’s boob, no barriers this time. Just hot lips, tongue, teeth. She kissed around the edge before pulling the nipple between her lips, sucking slow and deep.

As she did that, she gave up on multitasking and let her fingers fall like they were going down a water slide.

Lottie gasped loud, her back arching sharply off the bed, clenching again, this time around nothing.

“Fuck- Laura Lee, please-” her voice cracked loving the mouth but missing the fingers. “I can’t- I need-”

Laura Lee pulled away for only a second—“You’ll cum when I say”—before switching to the other boob.

Lottie’s thighs were so slick from her dripping center. Laura Lee’s mouth was torture without her fingers, she needed friction like she couldn’t bear another second of being denied.

Laura Lee’s mouth never left her skin, teeth gently scraping at Lottie’s boob, tongue swirling until the pebble was swollen and sensitive, it was ready for her lips to wrap around the second nipple.

Lottie whined in pained pleasure and longing.

That’s when her fingers, finally slipped beneath Lottie’s underwear again, parting her folds and dragging slow, deliberate pressure right over her clit.

She didn’t need penetration this time—as easy as it would be to slip her fingers into the wetness—Lottie’s already been put through enough teasing, it’s time to go right for the source.

But she needs one more thing out of the way so she can feel it too. She pulled back slightly, sitting up on her knees between Lottie’s spread legs. Her eyes raked over her, the rise and fall of Lottie’s chest, the desperate pleading look on her face.

“I want to feel all of you against me” Laura Lee said.

Her hands moved with purpose, hooking her fingers into the waistband of Lottie’s soaked underwear and tugging it down in one smooth motion, dragging it past her knees, tossing it aside. Lottie moaned just from the air hitting her wetness, hips twitching.

Then Laura Lee reached for her own, her modest cotton panties clinging to skin gone damp with need. She pulled them down and off in a single motion, breath hitching as the cool air hit her, and then she was moving again, settling between Lottie’s legs, their bare skin touching now.

Lottie gasped when Laura Lee pressed her thigh between hers again, now with their pussies touching. Warm, wet, bare.

The contact made both of them moan, soft, startled, involuntary.

“Jesus” Lottie breathed, grinding up, mixing their juices. “You feel so- fuck, you feel so good-”

Laura Lee leaned forward again, one hand braced beside Lottie’s head, the other sliding back down between them. Her fingers slipped between Lottie’s folds again, finding her clit with precision and staying there.

She circled it slowly and deliberately, watching every flutter of Lottie’s lashes, every catch in her breath. Lottie was soaked, pulsing, her hips moving in tiny, desperate rolls.

“Oh my God-” she gasped. “Yes- right there ah-

Laura Lee didn’t speak. Her focus was complete. Her fingers moved faster now, more confident, more demanding. Rubbing tight, perfect motions over Lottie’s clit, over and over. Lottie’s whole body started to tremble again, hands gripping Laura Lee’s arms like she might drown if she let go.

Their bare bodies bumped, slick skin sliding together with every movement.

“You’re gonna make me-” Lottie choked, thighs tensing around her, body seizing up.

“I want you to cum for me” Laura Lee whispered, leaning down, mouth brushing her ear.

Lottie cried out, loud and unfiltered, as her orgasm hit. Her whole body jolting, hips bucking wildly against Laura Lee’s hand, her clit twitching under her fingers. She came hard, like she was the one baptizing Laura Lee’s hand.

Laura Lee slowed her fingers only when Lottie’s hips started to jerk too sharply, the aftershocks rolling through her in waves.

Lottie’s arousal had not only coated Laura Lee’s hand, but her thigh, the soft blonde curls between her legs. It clung to her like oil, like anointing.

Lottie’s eyes fluttered, still hazy, still half-lost in the high she had just experienced. She reached up and brushed a shaking hand against Laura Lee’s face, thumb grazing her cheek.

“It does feel like you baptized me” she whispered, voice hoarse,

“I think I did” Laura Lee whispered back.

“It’s all over you” Lottie murmured, eyes dropping to Laura Lee’s once nude lower half, now covered in her. “All over us.”

Laura Lee watched the lamp light catch on the essence coating her skin, the shine of it, sticky and glistening between her fingers.

She brought her hand to her lips.

Hesitating.

Then touched her tongue to the tip of her finger.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, like the taste of Lottie left her needing a moment of silence.

When she opened them again, Lottie was now staring into them, her mouth trembled like she might cry or kiss her again or both.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that” Laura Lee confessed. “That I could want it like that.”

“You wanted me?” Lottie asked in awe even though it should’ve been obvious, in the way she took her so eagerly.

“I still do.” She said and rolled onto her back, taking Lottie with her. “And I think it’s my turn in the water.”

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

Okay who went dry from reading that?😬 Seriously, so cringe.

The air was still. Too still.

Like the whole forest had gone quiet out of respect or fear.

Laura Lee sat in the dirt, knees tucked under her, eyes fixed on the tree where they’d found Lottie. The rope was gone now. Natalie had cut it down, jaw clenched so tight Laura Lee thought it might snap. No one said anything as they laid her down to rest. No prayers. No last rites. Just silence.

The grave wasn’t deep—none of them had the strength for that—but it was enough. Enough to keep the animals from tearing her apart.

They hadn’t talked about it, not really. No one argued. They just dug.

Shauna found branches to make a cross. Van said nothing as she drove it into the ground. Natalie stayed the farthest back, arms crossed tight over her chest, like if stood far enough back she’d forget the way Lottie’s lifeless body felt in her arms.

Laura Lee had stood beside the grave long after the others drifted away, her hands clasped together, but no words or a prayer coming out. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to say to God.

Because how do you pray over someone who chose death over his gift of life?

That night, Laura Lee sat beside the fire, not far off from the grave, Lottie’s coat wrapped tight around her shoulders. The smell clung to her like a memory.

No one spoke to her. Maybe out of respect. Maybe they just didn’t know what to say.

She was used to being alone, but this felt different. Like she’d been marked by something none of them wanted to catch, death.

She stared into the flames, but all she saw was the rope. The tree. Lottie’s face when they’d found her. She looked more haunted than peaceful, or maybe that was just Laura Lee seeing her own reflection in her lifeless eyes.

And the note, scratched into the bark in jagged, uneven lines:

“Take me instead. Let them live. Let her live.”

It echoed in her mind like a hymn muffled by sinners singing it.

Laura Lee’s throat tightened.

“She thought she was saving us, saving me.”

Her voice was barely louder than the crackling of the fire. No one answered. She wasn’t even sure if she was talking to the others, Lottie, God, or herself.

“I never should’ve told her to listen to the voices, to her demons” because Laura Lee should’ve known Lottie wasn’t a prophet then, and she isn’t a martyr now, she’s just dead.

And now her mind keeps circling back to the same thought ‘I won’t see her again”

Because what if it was true? What if Lottie’s soul was… lost?

She’d heard it before. In church. In whispered conversations after tragedy.

That suicide was a sin. A mortal one. That it meant rejecting God’s gift of life.

That people who did it didn’t go to heaven.

Laura Lee had never wanted to believe that. She still didn’t. But murder is a sin.. and that’s murdering yourself. The thought was there now, planted in her like a weed.

But if suicide was a sin, what did that make her?

She was the one who had encouraged it. The one who had named it holy.

Her grip tightened, nails digging into her palms.

“Lottie was good” she said, louder now, like she needed someone—anyone—to hear it. “She shouldn’t be in hell for trying to be good.”

She looked into the fire.

“I should be the one burning.”

At some point, Laura Lee must have fallen asleep.

The fire had died down to embers, and the air had turned colder, but she didn’t remember lying down. One moment she’d been curled up in Lottie’s coat, whispering guilt into the fire, and the next, she was somewhere else.

Not just the cabin. Not just the forest.

Somewhere in-between.

It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like waiting.

She turned slowly, then she saw her.

Lottie.

Standing just a few feet away.

Still barefoot, her dress the same as the day she died, only cleaner. Pure?.

Laura Lee stared at her. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Lottie?” she whispered.

She took a step forward. Then another.

Lottie didn’t move away, yet the distance seemed to stay the same.

Her eyes were on Laura Lee. Focused. Present. But she didn’t speak.

“Please” Laura Lee said, voice cracking. “Say something.”

Still just the stare.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Did you really want to help us, or did you just want to die?”

Lottie blinked slowly, a small tilt to her head, but still no words.

“I didn’t mean to lead you down that path” Laura Lee said. Her voice was shaking. “I thought I was helping. I thought-”

She swallowed.

“I thought God wanted you to listen. I thought… I was doing the right thing.”

A gust of wind swept through the trees then, brushing Lottie’s hair back, just a little.

And Laura Lee knew the dream was ending. She could feel it—the way Lottie’s face began to blur, the way her chest filled with panic at the thought of waking up and being alone again.

But she couldn’t stop it, she gasped awake, heart racing. Her hands were clutching Lottie’s coat like it might still hold her.

She stared into the dead fire, chest heaving.

She didn’t know what the dream meant. Was Lottie trying to comfort her? Or was she punishing her with silence?

Laura Lee didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore.

But she remembers that Lottie wasn’t always quiet, not in a way that made her feel ignored at least.

Sure she’d sit still for hours, listening to the trees like they were telling her secrets. There were days when she barely spoke at all. But she always talked to Laura Lee.

Not in many words, but in glances. In gestures. In half-sentences that carried whole meanings.

One night, weeks ago now, they’d sat outside the cabin, huddled in borrowed blankets while the others argued over something—or someone—inside.

Lottie had been especially still that day, her lips pressed in a thin line, eyes darting like she was trying to listen to something that didn’t want to be heard.

Laura Lee didn’t ask what she was hearing, waiting for Lottie to confide in her herself.

Lottie did eventually turn to her.

“Do you ever think maybe we’re not supposed to leave?”

The question had come out so gently it almost didn’t worry Laura Lee.

She turned her head. “What do you mean?”

Lottie shrugged, her gaze flickering down. “I don’t know. It’s just… sometimes I think the longer we’re here, the more we’re becoming who we’re supposed to be.”

“Do you want to stay?”

Lottie hesitated. Then shook her head. “No. I want everyone to be safe. I want to go home. I just…” Her voice softened. “Sometimes home feels farther away than it did at first. Like it’s not even real anymore.. or like it’s changing”

She looked at Laura Lee then. Met her eyes.

“You still feel real, but maybe you’re changing too, or you’re going to.”

Laura Lee didn’t fully understand but she still smiled at Lottie as she does when she gets like this, she sounds so wise, like the Holy Ghost is speaking through her in a way.

Lottie smiled back as she reached out, fingers brushing Laura Lee’s knuckles. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken.”

“You’re not” Laura Lee said, fierce without meaning to. “You’re not broken.”

And then Lottie leaned her head against Laura Lee’s shoulder and said nothing else.

Laura Lee sat alone again, the ghost of the memory vanishing from her shoulder.

Lottie used to speak to her. She used to reach out. The silence in the dream wasn’t just absence. It was a change. A wall.

Laura Lee could only hope she could turn that wall into a door.

Speaking of, the door of the cabin swings open, revealing Natalie.

“You planning to sit there forever?” She asked.

Laura Lee quickly shook her head “I’m just thinking” grieving.

“You’re not the only one who misses her, you know.” Natalie’s eyes were unreadable, but her voice wasn’t cruel. Just tired. Honest.

Laura Lee lets her continue, knowing she’s grieving too.

“I didn’t get her” Natalie said. “Not really. But I know she… tried.” She picked at the edge of her sleeve. “She cared about people. Even when she didn’t know how to show it right.”

“She thought dying would help” Laura Lee said suddenly.

Natalie didn’t flinch. She just nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”

Laura Lee looked down at her hands. “I let her believe she was a prophet, I believed it too.”

Natalie leaned back, arms resting on the ground. Sensing the guilt in Laura Lee’s voice. “You didn’t tie the rope around her neck, Laura Lee.”

Laura Lee’s jaw clenched. “But I pointed her toward the tree.”

“You think if you hadn’t said those things, she’d still be alive?” Nat wasn’t accusatory, she just wanted to understand.

Laura Lee didn’t answer, instead she changed the direction of the conversation off what happened to Lottie, to where she is now.

“Do you think she’s… gone?”

Natalie looked at her. “Like gone gone?”

Laura Lee nodded. “Forever. I had a dream and she was there, but she didn’t say anything. Just… looked at me. Like I wasn’t worth speaking to.”

Natalie hesitated. “I don’t believe in the stuff you do. God, spirits, signs, any of it.”

Laura Lee lowered her eyes.

“But,” Natalie added, “I think if anyone deserved peace after all this, it was Lottie.”

Laura Lee looked up again. Slowly.

Natalie met her gaze. “If there’s a heaven, she’s in it.”

Laura Lee wanted to believe that, but Lottie didn’t look like she was in heaven. She looked trapped, voiceless.

Each day forward Laura Lee finds herself by the fire pit. She can’t tell if the flames are comforting or taunting anymore.

“I trusted you” Her voice spat into the fire. “I believed in you.”

The fire crackled with it’s ndifferent.

“I told her to believe in you, too.”

The anger came out hotter, boiling up from some place deep.

“She was scared. She didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, and I-” she stopped, swallowing the knot in her throat. “I gave her you.”

She stood suddenly, pacing in front of the fire, feeling it’s heat follow her back and forth. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“I told her she was chosen. I told her the voices in her head were there to be heard.”

Her voice rose.

“And she believed me. She believed me so much she died for it!”

The flames spat sparks. Laura Lee stopped moving, breathing hard.

She stared past the sky.

“I worshipped you.” Her voice broke now. “And You let her die.”

The fire popped. Her shoulders sagged.

She sat back down. Hard. All the fury had left her with nothing but shaking limbs and a raw, aching center.

She rested her head on her knees.

“I don’t know how to come back from this” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Without her, without you”

She sat there for hours feeding the dying flames as she did each day since her light went dark.

And in the silence, something shifted. Not a sound. Not a sign. Just… a thought. A thought she’d had before. A truth, slow and sharp.

It wasn’t God who tied the rope.

It wasn’t God who told Lottie her pain was divine.

That was her.

“I did this” she said softly. “Not you.”

She- They- everyone should’ve helped Lottie. Really helped her.

Not made it all into signs and scripture and prophecy.

Lottie was sick.

And instead of seeing that, it was sanctified.

Laura Lee’s throat tightened. But this time, it wasn’t anger. It was grief again. But clearer. Sharper.

“Her illness wasn’t holy” she whispered. “It was human.”

And it hadn’t been treated like that.

She wiped at her eyes roughly, blinking back tears.

“I still believe in you” she confessed. “But I won’t use you like that again.”

Time passed, even though it shouldn’t have without her.

Lottie was still gone. But the ache had dulled. Though not vanished. Like a bruise you forget is there until something brushes against it.

Laura Lee no longer sat by the fire every night. She started helping with chores again. She ate more. Slept some.

She didn’t talk much, but when she did, the other girls listened.

Natalie still checked in on her sometimes, the others stopped avoiding her. Even Van had started saying Lottie’s name again, if only in fragments in her stories.

But Laura Lee had changed. And everyone could feel it.

She still believed in God. That hadn’t gone away.

But the way she talked about him was different now. Less certain. Less like she was reading from a script.

One afternoon, she sat alone by the fire as she still does occasionally, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the smoke flout up to the trees.

She thought about the God she had grown up with. The one who loved you if you obeyed, punished you if you strayed. The one who sent signs like thunder and judgment like fire.

She thought about Lottie, begging for that kind of God to explain the chaos in her head.

And about herself, how she’d handed that God over like a raft.

Only it hadn’t saved her.

It had weighed her down.

Laura Lee exhaled slowly. It wasn’t you, she thought, but the way we made you.

The way Lottie’s illness was never seen for what it was, because it was never allowed to be explored. Just a sign, a prophecy, a burden from above.

That wasn’t God. That was control. That was people.

And they’d all paid the price for it. Lottie most of all.

She reached into her coat pocket—it wasn’t just Lottie’s coat anymore, it was also hers—and pulled out a rock she had found. It was split open—broken—but it was beautiful.

She held it in her palm. Closed her fingers around it.

“I’m still here” she whispered. Not to the stone. Not even to God. Just to herself.

She didn’t know what kind of believer she was anymore.

But she believed in Lottie’s goodness.

And she believed that the God who made her couldn’t be the same one who had demanded her death.

That had been people’s doing. And now, it would be people’s work to do better. Starting with her, she would do better.

That night her eyelids fell heavy on their own without having to squeeze them shut.

And then she was there.

The same place she had seen Lottie. But different this time. The air breathed with her.

There was light, golden and soft. Not coming from anywhere in particular. It just was.

And above the trees, Lottie appeared.

She didn’t speak.

But Laura Lee didn’t ask her to this time. And didn’t rush forward this time. She didn’t ask why.

She simply stood, watching her.

Lottie looked at her the same way she had in the last dream. But it didn’t hurt now. There was no weight in it. No blame.

Like she saw Laura Lee exactly as she was with no pretending, no performing..

A breeze passed, stirring the trees.

Laura Lee closed her eyes. Breathed in.

When she opened them she was back in the place they had closed for sleep.

She didn’t cry now that Lottie was out of view. She smiled, faint and full of ache.

She knew Lottie was still with her, in her memories, in the mark she had left in her heart and soul.

So she kept that smile.

It wasn’t healed. Wasn’t whole.

But… it was still there. Imprinting on her lips like a kiss.

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Also available on my AO3: nightowlxcaffiene

Laura Lee always clutches the straps of her backpack like she’s bracing for turbulence, even when we’re just walking into the school library. She’s usually cheery, but sometimes when she’s nervous, she acts like Carrie White just without the superpowers.

She’s the kind of girl who thinks too much about the rules even when no one else is paying attention. The kind who brings her Bible to group projects and apologizes if she thinks too hard about swearing.

She keeps me in the top pocket, zipper half-down so I can breathe. (Her words, not mine.)

She says I’m a reminder of God’s presence. I say nothing, because I’m a stuffed bear. But I’ve seen her cry into a pew, and I’ve heard her whisper prayers so soft they barely reached her lips. I know she means it.

Today, she’s not thinking about God.

She’s thinking about Lottie Matthews.

Lottie, who is already at the study table, legs folded underneath her like she’s somehow comfortable in those old wooden chairs. She looks up when we approach, gives Laura Lee a smile, kind but distant, like she chooses to exist just slightly apart from everything.

“You’re early” Lottie says.

Laura Lee adjusts her cross necklace, even though it’s already perfectly straight. “You said you needed help with the reading.”

Lottie shrugs. “I said I wish I had help. Not the same thing.”

Laura Lee takes the seat across from her and opens her copy of the book they were assigned this week.

She places me gently on the table. I pretend not to notice the way her hands are shaking.

“I think the book is about choosing your convictions over comfort” she says, voice tight and formal like she’s reciting something she practiced. “Even when it hurts.”

Lottie studies her for a long moment.

“Do you always think that hard about everything?” she asks, but not unkindly.

Laura Lee flinches like it’s a criticism, but Lottie tilts her head and adds, “It’s kind of… cool. It shows how much you care.”

Laura Lee looks down. I don’t think she knows what to do with that.

Lottie leans forward slightly. “And the bear?”

“This is Leonard,” she says, not looking up. “He’s… well. I guess he’s a reminder that I’m not alone.”

Lottie doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease.

She reaches out one finger and taps my paw.

“Hi, Leonard” she says quietly.

Something shifts. Just slightly. Laura Lee looks up then, startled, like she expected to be mocked but instead found something else.

She doesn’t say much else that doesn’t have to do with the book for the rest of the study period. But she doesn’t stop looking at Lottie either, she keeps glancing up.

And me?

I sit between them on the table, stitched and silent, but feeling the weight of something starting.

Like they know each other as teammates, but they’re gonna know each other as more soon.

.🌞➡️🌚.

Back when she was eight, Laura Lee told me her bed was the safest place in the world—right after the church pews—it was her place for the nights she cried after prayers, the nights she didn’t pray at all, and the nights she pretended not to care that she didn’t.

Tonight feels… different.

She flopped onto the bed the second we got home, face-down, arms out, like she’d just survived something. Which, I guess, she kind of did. Her crush she won’t admit is a crush.

Lottie Matthews. A shared table. A smile that didn’t feel like a joke. The kind of silence that made her think, not panic (well, maybe gay panic).

It’s been hours. Her shoes are still on. Her homework’s still in her bag. The book is somewhere on the floor with a bent corner that’s definitely going to bother her tomorrow.

I’m propped up on her nightstand now, watching as she finally turns off her stomach, she stares at the ceiling like it has answers.

She sighs. Rolls over. Picks me up and holds me against her chest like I can calm her down just by being soft.

“I didn’t say anything weird” she mumbles, more to herself than to me. “I was totally normal.”

A pause.

“I think.”

Her voice cracks like she doesn’t believe it.

She suddenly sits up fast.

“She liked you” she tells me, pointing at my paw. “You! She smiled at you.”

Laura Lee flops back again and lets out the kind of groan I usually only hear after youth choir practice.

“It probably doesn’t mean anything..”

But she’s smiling now. Just a little. Just enough.

🌌➡️🌄⚽️

It’s not like her unzipped backpack that still allows light through, it’s dark in here.

I’ve been in uncomfortable places—the bottom of a laundry basket, the glove compartment during a heat wave, that one time she dropped me behind the church pew and didn’t realize until communion. But this is a new kind of exile.

Her gym bag.

Zipped up. Cramped. Smelly. Wedged between a water bottle that definitely isn’t closed all the way (that’s gonna bother her) and a scrunchie that smells like dry shampoo and sweat.

Outside, the field stretches wide. I can’t see it. But I know where we are. Practice.

Laura Lee never talks much about soccer, she says it’s “good exercise” but she talks more about her teammates than the sport itself.

Whistles blow in the distance. Shoes stomp across the grass. The thud of a ball meeting cleats.

Then, laughter.

Sharp. Familiar. A bit spooky. Her laugh.

Lottie.

I shift a little as the bag moves, like someone just sat down beside it with a bump. There’s a pause. Then a voice, soft, low.

The first part is too muffled for me to hear (annoying🙄) but I hear the second bit..

“That’s cute.”

I think Laura Lee chokes. Maybe not literally, but something tightens in her posture. I can tell by the way the bag rustles and tilts, like she shifted away grabbing at it for something to do with her hands.

Then I hear the girls again, someone yelling for the ball, the thud of a pass.

They move away. The voices stretch thinner, blending into the usual chaos of practice. Whistles. Shouting. Laughter. The sounds of ordinary teenage girls trying very hard not to show how much they care.

Me? I wait in the dark.

Sticky with the spilled water droplets. Wondering how many more moments like that she’ll pretend don’t matter.

Because I’ve been with her long enough to know when she’s starting to hope.

And when her hope turns to faith and she puts it in that girl, I hope she’s gentle with it and doesn’t break her heart.

⚽️➡️🚶🏼‍♀️🚶🏻‍♀️

There’s something sacred about the walk home after practice.

It’s that weird stretch of time for her when your body’s tired but your brain’s still going, when everything smells like grass and sweat and possibility. Normally, Laura Lee uses this time to listen to hymns on her walkman, sometimes she sings along under her breath.

But not today.

Because Lottie Matthews is walking beside her.

And I am tucked under her arm, right where I belong, blessedly out of the gym bag and back in the fresh air, though the shoulder of her jersey is damp with sweat, and it’s making my fur cling weird.

Lottie’s hands are in her pockets. She’s not walking too close, but not far either. Just… near.

“Do you always bring him to practice?” she asks eventually, glancing my way.

Laura Lee’s grip tightens slightly. “Only sometimes.” The Laura Lee? Lying?

“It’s okay” Lottie says. “I think it’s nice.”

“You don’t think it’s unusual?”

Lottie shrugs. “It is. But I like that.”

Laura Lee heats up at that, particularly her cheeks.

They walk for a while in quiet, the sound of cars rolling by and cicadas in the trees filling the space between them.

Laura Lee adjusts me against her side like I might be sliding. (I’m not.)

“He’s been with me a long time,” she says suddenly. “Leonard.”

Lottie looks at me same as she did when they studied. It’s not like most people do, not with a scowl or a squint, but like I’m a real thing worth acknowledging.

“You ever think about giving him up?”

Laura Lee blinks. “What? No. Why would I?”

Yeah, why would she??

Lottie shrugs but her expression isn’t nonchalant “Sometimes people let go of things when they think they’re not supposed to need them anymore.”

Laura Lee doesn’t respond. Her jaw shifts like she’s biting back a verse, a rule, a defense.

Then she says, “Well… I still need him.”

It’s quiet again save for the cicadas.

They’re close to Laura Lee’s street now. The houses are all spaced evenly, porches lit, grass trimmed. Safe. Familiar. A place where things are supposed to make sense.

But now Lottie is here, and she doesn’t make sense to Laura Lee, not in the way she should.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way” Laura Lee says, even though they’re already nearly there.

“I know” Lottie replies. “But I want to.”

She looks up at the streetlight, blinking into the soft yellow halo like she sees something in it.

It’s quite in a way Laura Lee doesn’t know what to do with now, so she looks down, flushed. Her thumb strokes the seam on my paw. The way she does when she’s thinking too hard.

They stop at the bottom of the driveway.

Laura Lee doesn’t move to go inside yet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Lottie asks.

Laura Lee nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

And Lottie turns—just like that— and walks back down the sidewalk, not hurried, not dramatic.

Just… gone.

Laura Lee stands there a moment longer, then looks down at me.

“She’s weird” she says.

Her voice is quiet.

“I don’t know what she wants.”

Then softer “I don’t know what I want.”

I don’t have answers. I technically don’t have a brain.

But I’ve held her—(well, she’s held me)—through every restless night, and I know this much, I know that she’s scared.

Which means she’s probably right where she’s supposed to be. She needs to be brave.

🌚➡️🌞⛪️

Church smells like old (people) paper and must. It’s always too cold in here, like the AC’s working overtime to prove something. I’ve spent more time under these pews than most toddlers. I know the pattern of the carpet. I know who sings loudest. I know when she’s faking her “holy face.”

And right now?

She is definitely faking.

Laura Lee’s hands are folded neatly in her lap. Bible resting on top. Back straight. Mouth set like she’s carved it out of stone.

But her knee won’t stop bouncing.

The pastor is in full rhythm, voice rising and falling like waves. He’s talking about strength. About resisting.

And then he says it: “Temptation doesn’t always come looking like sin”

Laura Lee flinches.

“Sometimes it looks like comfort, even kindness”

Another flinch.

“And that’s when it’s hardest, when it feels good. When it feels like love”

She’s not breathing.

“But it’s not love, love is pure. This is deceit.”

Her hands tighten around the edge of the Bible. Her lips press together so hard they turn white.

The AC breathes heavily. Someone coughs in the back row. A baby squeals and gets carried out.

Laura Lee is unraveling silently.

I watch from the shadows, powerless but present. Because what else is a bear supposed to do?

There’s nothing wicked about Lottie’s smile. Nothing cruel about the way she listens.

But Laura Lee’s heart is pounding like she just got caught doing something wrong, and all she did was walk home with a girl who made her stomach swarm with butterflies.

The pastor keeps going. He’s moved on to self-control now. To denying the flesh. He’s quoting scripture, and people around him are nodding, saying “amen” in that rhythmic way that means they’ve stopped thinking and started agreeing.

Laura Lee doesn’t do anything but stare ahead, jaw set, like she can sit perfectly still and that will save her.

Like if she doesn’t move, the feelings won’t be real.

But I know they’re real, I’ve seen it in the red in her cheeks, in the fear in her eyes.

I just hope she realizes Lottie is what makes her pupils dilate, the fear is just a virus spread by people who are blind to the dilation and imagine it as something twisted.

.⛪️➡️🧎‍♀️.

She kneels beside her bed, the floor almost seems sunken in from all the times she’s been there.

Her hands are clasped. Eyes closed. The lamp on her nightstand glows warm illuminating her cross, but everything else feels cold.

“Dear God,” she begins, steady and soft. “Thank you for this day. For the blessings I don’t deserve. For the strength to keep my heart clean.”

She swallows hard.

“And… please forgive me if I’ve let it wander.”

She pauses.

Long enough that I know she’s not just searching for words. She’s trying to decide if she even wants to say them out loud.

I sit right beside her pillow. Propped upright, eyes forward. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe. But if she’s going to confess, I’ll be here to know.

Even if she can’t say it to God yet.

“I don’t think I meant to… feel anything” she says, eyes still shut. “I didn’t even think she was… like that, I don’t condemn. I mean, I’m not-”

Her mouth clamps shut.

Then, after a beat, she turns and sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping like her spine can’t hold this much confusion upright anymore.

She looks at me.

And I mean really looks at me. Like I’m going to judge her.

Like I could.

She picks me up and holds me in her lap. Fingers fidget with the worn stitching of my body.

“She’s just… nice” she whispers. “That’s all.”

Another pause.

“She’s kind of strange. But not in a bad way. And when she talks, it feels like she sees things other people don’t.”

And another pause.

“And she thinks I’m interesting. Me. The “Bible Thumper””

Her voice cracks, just a little.

“But that’s not supposed to matter.”

Her eyes go to the ceiling, not searching for God, exactly, but for a rule.

“I’ve never felt this way about- about anyone. Not like this. Not where it feels like a secret even I don’t understand.”

She swallows again. Harder this time.

“I thought if I just prayed more, it would go away.”

She’s crying now, and she’s mad about it. Brushing the tears away before they can fall properly. Pressing her palm to her face like she can shove them back in.

“But it’s not wrong to like someone who listens” she mutters. “Right? It’s not wrong to want someone to think you matter.”

She curls toward the blanket, tucks me under her chin, like she did when she was five and had nightmares about getting left behind after the rapture.

Her voice goes small.

“I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to feel bad.”

I can’t say anything.

But if I could, I’d tell her wanting comfort isn’t sin. And if it is, then so is being human. So is loving anything at all.

But I’m just a bear.

And tonight, all I can do is stay soft while she falls asleep pretending she’s not hoping to see Lottie again tomorrow.

🌚➡️🌞🏫

I’ve seen the inside of every classroom this school has to offer.

As you know, usually I ride in her backpack, snug & safe. Unless no one else is around, well, maybe Lottie. But today? Today, she’s carrying me.

Not hiding me like I’m not real. Just… walking down the hall with me like I’m her purse or her bible.

Judging by how many people have already stared, whispered, or given her that look, this was a bold move.

She doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she’s just pretending not to.

Her mind must be preoccupied on something, because she turns the corner too fast, and collides into someone.

And then I go flying. Right into the middle of the hallway.

I land facedown on the tile, which is both mortifying and dusty—(and is that gum? Ew.) The footsteps scatter. Voices quiet.

And then a familiar voice speaks up. “Leonard?”

I’m flipped over gently.

Lottie Matthews is crouched there, holding me like I’m something she expected to see again.

Laura Lee, does not run away, rather she freezes.

“Here” Lottie gently hands me back.

Laura Lee’s face does something strange. Like she’s trying to smile and grimace at the same time. Like her heart skipped and her lungs forgot to breathe.

She snatches me back, clutching me to her chest. I’m used to this grip. It usually comes right before a meltdown or a pleading prayer.

“You don’t have to explain, you know. I’ve seen him before, and you know..” Lottie adds, softer now. “I think it’s sweet.”

Lottie sure thinks a lot of things about me.

Laura Lee won’t look at her. She mumbles, “It’s not supposed to be sweet.”

Lottie blinks. “Why not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing” Laura Lee mutters. “Because it’s not something people do.”

Lottie tilts her head.

“Well, you do.”

There was a silence that felt more like a revelation but it was interrupted by the bell, which means things would have time to simmer until after class.

.👩‍🏫➡️🍽️.

The cafeteria is too loud. Always is.

Trays clatter. People yell across tables even though they’re five feet apart. Someone’s building a juice box pyramid. Someone else is making a mess doodling with the insides of their pudding cup (art nowadays).

Laura Lee ignores all of it.

She picks the quietest corner she can find—near the exit, under a flickering light, right between the vending machine and the trash that releases strange unpleasant smells.

And she sets me on the table in front of her.

Straight up. Centered. Like a dinner guest.

She’s not even pretending to eat. Just poking the square of.. lasagna? like it personally offended her.

Her brow is furrowed in that deep, silent way it gets when she’s praying with her eyes open.

“She probably just thinks I’m weird” she suddenly whispers. “Carrying a bear around like I’m five. Talking to him. Dropping him in public.”

She stops and corrects herself.

“You. Sorry.”

I don’t take it personally.

She pushes the food around, then slumps back in her chair, arms crossed like she’s mad at the tray for not solving this for her.

“She’s just… really nice. And when she looks at me, it’s like I matter. Not just to God. But to her.”

She says the last part so quietly like it’s blasphemous. She sits there for a long moment, like maybe if she doesn’t move, she can un-say it. Un-feel it.

“Why is this so wrong if it also feels so… good?”

She looks at me. I stare back.

And in the silence, she lets herself feel it—just for a second—before she folds back in on herself, cheeks red, hands tightly holding her spork.

“I’m not supposed to like anyone that much” she mutters. “Especially not her.”

The bell rings again.

She packs up in a rush, scooping me under one arm like I might shield her from her own thoughts.

But I don’t think she wants to forget them.

I think she just doesn’t know what to do now that they’re real. Or rather, now that she’s starting to accept they’re real.

.🏫➡️🏠.

After school, we’re walking home. Well, Laura Lee is walking. I’m being cradled against her side.

She’s got her Walkman today, listening to that tape she made—the one that’s half hymns and half soft acoustic songs she says aren’t love songs, even though they very obviously are.

Her mouth moves sometimes, just a little. Quietly mouthing along to lyrics.

Her eyes are far away, her brow slightly furrowed. Like every verse is opening a door she isn’t sure she’s ready to walk through.

And then-

A gentle tug.

One headphone slips out of her ear.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t jolt or gasp or whirl around like she’s been caught sneaking from the cookie jar before dinner.

She just… pauses.

And then looks over.

Lottie stands beside her, holding the dangling earbud between two fingers.

“Hey” Lottie says, slipping into stride like once means they always walk home together.

“Hi” Laura Lee replies, like maybe this is normal.

Like Lottie gently invading her personal space is totally fine.

Like her heart isn’t currently pounding so hard she can feel it trying to break through her chest.

Lottie offers a small smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t” Laura Lee says.

Lottie nods, looking just a little pleased.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d catch you.”

Laura Lee raises a brow. “Why were you trying?”

Lottie hesitates. Then shrugs, casual.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe… finish the conversation from yesterday?”

There wasn’t a real conversation yesterday. But Laura Lee doesn’t correct her.

Instead, she stops the tape with a little click, she may have two ears but there’s still no way she could focus on the music while Lottie’s voice is in her other ear.

Then Laura Lee asks, “What did you want to say?”

Lottie’s quiet for a second longer than expected.

Then “I think I’ve been trying to say it for a while. But I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Laura Lee’s fingers tighten slightly around me; “You don’t have to say it if it’s not time” she says quickly. “Sometimes things are… between the lines. And that’s okay.”

Lottie glances at her.

“I don’t think you’re weird you know” she says suddenly. “For the Leonard, or sitting alone, or being the only person in school who prays like she means it.”

Laura Lee stops walking. She turns just enough to look at Lottie, trying to look through her soul.

“You notice a lot of things.”

Lottie grins. “Yeah I do, I just have trouble understanding them sometimes.”

Laura Lee opens her mouth. Closes it again. And then the former “I think I’ve been trying not to like you.”

Lottie takes that in with the kind of stillness most people don’t have.

“Is it working?”

Laura Lee looks down at me. Holds me a little closer.

“No.”

And Lottie—brave, weird Lottie—just smiles.

They start walking again.

Still no hand-holding. Still no big sweeping kiss like the resolution at the end of a movie.

But the space between them?

It’s almost gone.

🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏🧸🙏

Also Available on My AO3: nightowlxcaffiene

Hopefully is isn’t frowned upon to write for both the prompt, and alternate prompt😅

Lottie blinked against the sunlight, heart pounding in her ears. A whistle blew. Someone laughed.

Lottie staggered forward like a zombie, she felt unsteady on the flat ground. Her throat was dry. Her fingers trembled. She turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of it.

She looked down, instead of her heavy winter-wear that she swears she could still feel on her back, she’s in her soccer gear. And there’s no snow covering the grass.

This was… before it. Before the plane. Before the wilderness. She didn’t know how it happened, only that it had.

And then she saw her.

Laura Lee.

Alive. Laughing. Standing to the left with her hands on her hips, arguing playfully with one of the other girls about language. Her hair shined in the sun, but it wasn’t the same glow Lottie had seen that day in the lake. She looked untouched by it all. Untouched by death.

Lottie didn’t think—she ran.

“Laura Lee!” she called out, voice cracking.

Laura Lee turned, startled. “Lottie?”

Lottie threw her arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder, clutching her like she’d disappear into a million different pieces if she let go. “You’re alive. You’re here. You’re okay.”

“Uh… yeah?” Laura Lee stiffened in her arms. “Are you okay?”

Lottie pulled back only enough to look at her face. Her eyes were wide, searching. “I just- I missed you so much. I thought I’d lost you.”

Laura Lee blinked. “We had practice yesterday.”

“I.. I just…” Lottie trailed off. There was no explaining this.

Laura Lee gently tried to step back, but Lottie’s grip didn’t loosen. “You’re acting really weird” she said softly. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Lottie shook her head. “I’m not. I mean- I am. Now. With you here.”

There was something in her eyes, too much emotion for what should have been a normal afternoon. Laura Lee frowned, confused, but didn’t press. She reached up and lightly touched Lottie’s shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get some water. You look like you’ve seen the holy ghost.”

Lottie almost laughed—and cried. “You have no idea.”

They walked off the field side by side, the summer heat clinging to their skin in contrast to the cold particles Lottie was used to. Laura Lee grabbed her water bottle off the bench, shaking it once to check how much was left. Then, without hesitating, she turned and held it out to Lottie.

“You look like you need it more than I do.”

Lottie blinked at her, the gesture meaning more than this Laura Lee could know. “No, I’m okay. You should-”

“Take it” Laura Lee said, firm but kind.

Lottie did, her hands brushing Laura Lee’s as she brought the bottle to her lips. The water tasted like salvation. When she handed it back, Laura Lee gave her a small smile and took a sip of what was left, never breaking eye contact.

“Now,” Laura Lee said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or should I start guessing?”

Lottie looked down, twisting her fingers in the hem of her uniform. “You were dead.”

“…What?”

“You were gone” Lottie said, voice low and tight. “There was a plane, a explosion. You didn’t make it. You died trying to save everyone. And now I’m here, and you’re alive, and I don’t know how, but I’m not leaving your side.”

Laura Lee tilted her head, watching her. “Lottie, that sounds like a dream. A nightmare, actually.”

“It wasn’t. I remember all of it. I swear. I think-” she hesitated, then looked up. “I think I went back. Like, to before. Before it happened.”

Laura Lee didn’t react immediately. She took a moment to look at the sky, like she was giving herself a second to think before speaking.

“Do you think God sent you?”

“I don’t know” Lottie whispered. “Maybe. Or maybe it did. I just know I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

Laura Lee nodded once, as if that made sense. “Okay.”

Lottie blinked. “Okay?”

“I’ve always believed God works in mysterious ways” she said. “This would definitely qualify.” She offered a small, trusting smile. “And I’m glad you found your way back.”

Lottie stared at her, stunned by the calm in her voice. “You really believe me?”

“I believe something happened to you” Laura Lee said. “And even if I didn’t, you clearly believe it. Your faith is enough for me.”

She looked back up at the sky and smiled.

“Come on” She said, starting toward the bleachers. “We’ll pray on it. If you think this is a second chance, let’s ask God what he wants you to do with it.”

Lottie followed, just a step behind her, Laura Lee would listen for god, and Lottie would listen to Laura Lee.

They settled near the bleachers, out of the way of the other girls still lingering around the field. Laura Lee sat cross-legged in the patchy grass, patting the spot beside her. Lottie sank down wordlessly, trying to calm down her mind of the thoughts that this is all a lie.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The heat ached in the air, thick with sweat and the distant sound of bugs buzzing under the sun’s glow. Lottie stared down at the grass, fingers absently picking at a clover near her knee. She was lucky.

Laura Lee closed her eyes and folded her hands. “You can join in” she said gently, “or just listen.”

Lottie didn’t answer, but she mirrored the motion, slowly lacing her fingers together, resting them against her lap.

Laura Lee’s voice was quiet when she started.

“God, I don’t really know what’s happening right now. But you do. If this is something you’ve allowed, I trust that there’s a reason. And if Lottie’s right—if she’s been through something terrible and come back with a second chance—then help her carry it. Show her what to do with it. Show both of us.”

Lottie’s eyes were still closed, but her throat tightened. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

“Give us clarity” Laura Lee continued. “And peace. Help us not to be afraid.”

Laura Lee gently opened her eyes just as a tear slipped down Lottie’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but Laura Lee saw.

She didn’t say anything. She just reached over, laid her hand gently on Lottie’s, and kept it there.

They sat like that for a while, no more words, just the breeze lifting the ends of their hair, the steady presence of something larger than both of them, and the quiet rhythm of breath shared between two girls tangled in something they couldn’t help but trust.

Then footsteps crunched against the grass. A voice called out, slightly too loud for the moment they were in.

“Are you two having a seance or something?”

Lottie looked up so fast it startled Laura Lee for the second time today.

Mari stood above them, hands on her hips, a half-eaten popsicle clutched in one hand. She had sunglasses perched on top of her head and a smear of sweat on her brow, but she was grinning.

“There’s a party at Gen’s tonight” Mari said, eyeing them both. “Her parents are out of town and Nat already said she’s bringing the good stuff. You’re coming, right?”

Laura Lee gave a disapproving look at the hint of contraband, but Lottie was already standing. Her expression shifted, something soft and stunned passing through her eyes. She looked at Mari like she wasn’t expecting to see her again. Almost like she had looked at Laura Lee earlier.

“You’re here too, and you’re okay.” Lottie murmured.

Mari blinked. “Uh… yeah? You expecting me to fall over dead or something?”

“No” Lottie said quickly with a hint of melancholy, shaking her head. “No, I just- it’s good to see you.”

Mari tilted her head, confused but intrigued. “Did you hit your head or get, like, super high at practice with Nat? You’re acting weird.”

Laura Lee stood too, brushing grass from her shorts. She watched Lottie with a thoughtful frown. “You don’t usually like Mari” she whispered, not accusing, just curious.

“I like her fine” Lottie said, glancing at Laura Lee, her tone too gentle to sound defensive. “I mean- maybe I didn’t show it before. But I do.”

Mari squinted. “Okay, well… I’ll take the sudden personality transplant as a yes to the party?”

Laura Lee looked at Lottie. “You wanna go?”

Lottie hesitated, glancing between the two of them. “Will you be there?”

“Obviously” Mari said with a snort. “I’m not skipping a party I invited people to.”

“I meant her” Lottie said, nodding toward Laura Lee.

Laura Lee gave a small smile. “I don’t usually go to those.”

“But you could” Lottie said. “Just for a little while?”

Mari rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, just come. You guys are acting like it’s a boring wedding invite.”

“I’ll think about it” Laura Lee told Mari.

Mari threw her hands up, already walking away. “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t be lame.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Laura Lee looked at Lottie again.

“You okay?”

Lottie nodded. “It’s just… weird, seeing everyone. Knowing what I know.”

“You’re being really nice to Mari.”

“She’s alive,” Lottie said simply. “That’s enough reason.”

The sun was beginning to sink, washing Laura Lee’s neighborhood in that soft golden light that looked like God themself placed it there. She stepped out onto her porch, still towel-drying her hair from a quick shower. She hadn’t planned to go to the party, not really. But then again, she hadn’t planned for Lottie to look at her like she was a miracle either. Maybe it was God’s plan.

Lottie was already waiting on the porch steps, legs pulled in close to her chest, hair still damp from her own shower. She’d asked earlier if she could come over before the party “Just to be near you” she’d said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Laura Lee sat beside her. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to” Lottie said, staring out at the street. “I wasn’t trying to push.”

“You weren’t” Laura Lee said softly. “I just… don’t usually go to stuff like that. It’s not really my scene.”

“I know” Lottie said. She picked at a loose thread on her skirt. “I’ve only really seen you at one party.. the one before..”

Laura Lee finished for her, figuring it would be easier for her to say. “The crash?”

Lottie nodded.

Lottie breathed in, air feeling thin. “Everything feels… louder. Brighter. I’m trying not to hold on too tight, but you’re here. And I keep thinking if I let go, you’ll disappear again.”

Laura Lee looked over, brows softening. “I’m not going anywhere.” She knew it must be god’s plan for her to stick beside Lottie if they were given this second chance.

“I know. It just doesn’t feel real, and yet so real all at once.”

Laura Lee leaned back on her hands, looking up at the deepening sky. “You’re not the same” she said after a moment.

Lottie stiffened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Not in a bad way” Laura Lee added. “Just… you were always kind of quiet before I suppose, but now you feel.. Older. Sadder. Happier. More. Like you’ve seen more than the rest of us.”

Lottie gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I have.”

Laura Lee paused just looking at her friend—no—her person.

“I think..” Lottie started, “I think I needed to believe in something bigger than myself. And you- you always did. Even when things got bad.”

Laura Lee still didn’t say anything to that. She just reached over and rested a hand on Lottie’s.

“Maybe we’re supposed to believe in each other” she said softly.

Lottie blinked hard, surprised that that isn’t some form of blasphemy to her, but eventually she just nodded. Her fingers curled slightly around Laura Lee’s.

From inside, the buzz of a landline phone rang once, Laura Lee’s parents probably checking in from their Bible study group.

Laura Lee stood and offered a hand. “Come on. Let’s get there before things get.. too.. just too loud.”

Lottie took her hand, a shy smile tugging at her mouth. “Aren’t you going to answer that first?.”

She replied with the faintest bit of rebellion “I’d rather pray for their forgiveness later than lie to them now.”

The music was loud, but not too loud as was worried earlier, just enough to fill the rooms and spill out onto the back yard where half the team had gathered. Someone had strung up colored lights around the fence. There was cheap—probably alcoholic—punch in plastic cups, and the smell of weed drifted faintly from somewhere deep in the house.

Laura Lee stood near the back steps, watching the others laugh and yell over each other. Mari was dancing with Akilah, both of them off-beat and dramatic about it. Van was holding court with a group near the fire, her arm looped lazily around Tai’s waist. The two of them looked tangled in each other’s orbit, laughing like they didn’t notice the rest of the world.

And Lottie was beside Laura Lee, tangled in a similar orbit, theirs of the soul without physical touch. She hadn’t left her side since they walked in the door.

At first, Laura Lee figured she just didn’t want to be alone. But after an hour and several polite chances to wander off—including an invite from Jackie and Shauna to join a game of truth or dare—Lottie hadn’t budged.

“You okay?” Laura Lee asked once again, tilting her head toward her.

Lottie nodded too quickly. “I just- don’t really feel like talking to anyone else.”

Laura Lee smiled faintly. “Even Mari?”

That got a slight smile out of her, but she was happy to just see all of them now. “Mari’s still a lot.”

“She’s always been a lot.”

Lottie looked at her, then away again, a flush rising on her cheeks. “I can go if I’m being annoying. I know I’ve been… hovering.”

Laura Lee hesitated, then brought in physical touch to Lottie’s shoulder. “You’re not.”

Lottie turned to her, surprised.

“I don’t mind” Laura Lee said. “Really.”

Lottie’s shoulders dropped a little in relief, her breath coming out in a soft exhale. “Okay. Good.”

There was a beat of silence before Laura Lee added, almost shyly, “You’re kind of sweet when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Clingy.”

Lottie looked horrified, but Laura Lee was already smiling again—teasing—but not unkind.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way” she said. “It’s kinda…” She looked out at the yard, the lights catching in her blond locks. “Nice, knowing someone wants to be close, I’m the one who usually annoys people.”

Lottie stared at her, something unreadable in her eyes. “I like it you know” she said. “Your beliefs, or maybe just your faith when you talk about them.” She then added gently “Just maybe try to push a little less, maybe just a nudge if you need to.”

Laura Lee didn’t say anything at first, but her gaze lingered on Lottie a little longer than it usually would have, like she was contemplating, then she simply added “Okay.”

Somewhere behind them, someone shouted and a cup went flying. Lottie instinctively stepped in front of Laura Lee, shielding her even though there was no real danger.

Laura Lee raised an eyebrow and just smiled.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.” Lottie said

That made Laura Lee pause, she wanted to giggle, but instead, she simply reached down and gently brushed a drip of liquid off Lottie’s arm.

“You don’t have to protect me from soda-” she then caught a whiff of what smelled like hand sanitizer “-or whatever this is, but thank you.”

Lottie just gave a look that said ‘I know, but I want to.’

The party continued to pulse around them, laughter and music and a thousand things demanding their attention, but in that moment, it all felt far away.

They didn’t need to say anything else. Not yet.

But they knew a conversation was coming that would in a way, change everything, but also bring everything that was colliding between them together.

🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥🪽🔥

Will also be available on my AO3: nightowlxcaffiene