Moles

You woke up the next morning, head still laying in Allies lap with drool dribbling down your chin and onto her leg, against your thigh Hannah lay soundlessly, her mouth parted with her hair splayed across her face. The room was a sight for sore eyes, in front of where the three of you lay sprawled, a small mountain of empty ice cream tubs, bottles of wine and tissue boxes half full sat- waiting for your attention. 

You smacked your lips together, wincing at the foreign, dry feeling that paired with the tangy taste of leftover wine stuck to your mouth. Stretching as carefully as you could, you managed to wiggle out from beneath Hannah, substituting your thigh with a throw pillow and got to work making your living room seem somewhat presentable. 

As you padded around, memories came back in chunks with each new piece of trash you picked up. 

Used tissue pile by the money plant? Hannah and Allie had found you curled up on the floor next to it, one hand messily discarding and using the tissues on your eyes while the other scrolled through Pinterest- a new wave was activated when you came across some cute couple on your feed.

Plastic cups smelling like coke and rum? Allie had suggested something stronger after you finished the stash of wine in the cupboard, perfect to pair with the magic mike re-run you were watching.

A small pile of Logans hoodies and t-shirts, soaked in…was that vodka? Hannah had drunkenly collected anything she could find in her haze, and somehow emerged with a half-full bottle of smirnoff. You and Allie had stopped her before she somehow found a matchbox. 

Slowly, the night was coming back to you in chunks and by the time the two girls on the couch had begun to wake at 11:00am, you had removed any trace of your, as you liked to call it, heart-broken psychotic adventure. 

You actually managed to use the shower first, returning to the main room whilst towel drying your hair- Allie called your name from her sleepy perch, “So..” She wiped at the crusted drool on her cheek, “Logan texted you? Is it actually over?”

Your eyes widened, that part didn’t register to you until now. You assumed that whatever conversation you had back at the house constituted an implied breakup, but that wasn’t Logan’s style. He would never leave things unsaid if he truly believed in following through. So, you lunged at your phone that sat innocently on the table, sure enough there were a few messages from Logan- along with one missed call and a few from the other boys. 

The phone mocks your bated breath, taking you through the lock-screen and slowly loading the messages that you were waiting for. 

“He said..” You squinted at them, that couldn’t be right? “Good morning? And… He can’t wait to see me in accounting?” 

Thumbing at the phone you scoff and shake your head, “Is that it?” 

Hannah had woken up during your narration and had scrunched her face up in disapproval, “Wow how avoidant of him,” She slowly rises from the couch, unbuttoning her sweater while yawning, “I’m next for the shower, tell me if he says anything else nonchalant.” She mocks your boyfriends..well? Ex? Or not? Behaviour with a silly voice and stumbles into her room. 

Allie groans and thumps her head against the headrest, facing away from you, “Great, I’ll take a cold one,” She lifts her hand and crooks her finger at you, “Get over here and show me those messages.”

Shrugging, you hand her your phone and continue to dry your hair, “Should I ask about yesterday?” 

You watch her analyse the texts like they would tell her the next bond movie lead, “I don’t know babe, I think he might just be trying to brush past it. Y’know, maybe he’s got used to it.” 

“Yeah maybe.. He seemed so out of it yesterday though.” You chew your lip, getting up to start breakfast. Or lunch. You settle for brunch. 

Allie stretches her legs out and slumps into the sofa humming whilst wrapping herself in the discarded throw, “We all were, you did pass out like. Fully.”

You roll your eyes and have half the mind to throw a rogue blueberry at her, but you decide against it when she continues, “Not saying it was fun for you- but in his eyes. He was in class and then suddenly got messages about his girlfriend not waking up.”

“It’s just,” You shake your head and break an egg into the pan which had been heating some oil, “You didn’t see him, Allie, he was so tired. Exhausted. Because of me.”

The scrambled eggs go blurry for a second before you blink it away, “I don’t want him to end up resenting me- especially for something I can’t control.”

The girl sighed sympathetically, “I don’t think he could resent you, even if you crashed his car into the workshop.” 

The pan sizzled behind you as you turned, spatula in hand, “I’ll ask in person, if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Then he must be okay.”

Allie nodded, the thin blanket slipped off her shoulder as she dashed to her room, Hannah had emerged from the bathroom and was tapping some moisturizer into her face. 

“Yeah, and if all else fails- just get with his brother!” The door slams, and the sound of the shower turning on replaces her voice. 

You stare at where she was sitting, Hannah slowly turned away towards you her mouth popped open in an O, “So..what did I miss?”

Logan claimed he was fine, so fine in fact that he had brought you your favourite breakfast to class. A brown paper bag that smelt suspiciously like an almond croissant sat at your desk, along with an iced latte. You smirked at the display and your gaze dragged to the seat next to you, rolling your eyes when Logan grinned at your amused expression.

You kissed his cheek and thanked him, already sipping at the sweet drink as the professor walked in, papers flying out of his satchel with each hurried step he took; it gave you the perfect opportunity to turn to Logan, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “So about yesterday..”

The area between the two of you seemed to chill, a frigid feeling settled deep in your bones and made your smile fall. Logan had stilled, the fingers that twirled his pen between them froze, “We don’t need to talk about it,” he cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat, hunching his shoulders forward to bow his head down. 

“Oh,” You avert your eyes, fiddling with the straw in your coffee that somehow tasted bitter despite the gallons of sugary syrup pumped into it, “Yeah… of course. You just seemed so off, and I want-”

“It was nothing.” He gritted out, turning to you. 

His eyes were dark, as if overnight he had built a large, looming wall over them- just tall enough to keep his emotions at bay, and you out. 

You nodded silently, thankful for the fact that your professor had finally re-organised himself and was beginning the lecture. 

The worst scenario your brain could think of last night, had come true. He was tired of you, tired of what you brought to his life but just couldn’t find a way to tell you. So, in that moment, despite the fact that Logan had relaxed back into his seat, scribbling notes down as if he hadn’t ripped your heart in two with his words- you decided that if he wasn’t going to pull away, you were going to run. 

Thereafter, the entire week had been your own personal hell. You felt like a little doped up hamster, burdened to never leave its wheel- because nothing even changed. 

You still woke up to good morning texts. Still got updates about practice. Still got stupid blurry pictures of Tucker doing something deeply concerning in the background of the hockey house kitchen. Logan still sent you reminders to eat like muscle memory had taken over his nervous system.

Johnny boy 🏒 : have u consumed anything today besides caffeine and academic suffering

You: rude.

You: and yes

Johnny boy 🏒: that pause was suspicious

You: i had pasta at like 3

Johnny boy 🏒: okay good

Johnny boy 🏒: proud of u baby

And every single time your phone lit up with his name, your chest hurt, because he must have been trying so hard, to be normal, to make any of this normal. But you knew the truth, you couldn’t stop replaying the look on his face from that evening, the pure, exhausted fear etched into the deep lines of his face. 

That look followed you everywhere.

Back to your dorm. Back to class. Back to the library where you’d sit for hours pretending to read the same paragraph while your brain looped endlessly around the same horrible thought:

How long until he gets tired of texting you, tired of the constant check-ins, from the random times you'd become an inconvenience. 

Ever since the fainting started, you loathed your body- your brain, the elementary functions you were meant to be able to complete on a daily basis. But you couldn’t and it made people look at you differently. Like you were some sub-terranian alien, one that couldn’t handle the complexities of earth and would choose the most annoying parts of life to announce it to the entire world. 

The thing that nobody fully could comprehend was that the fainting itself wasn’t even the worst part anymore. Embarrassing sometimes, inconvenient always, but manageable. You’d lived with it long enough that it barely felt dramatic inside your own head.

It was everybody’s reactions that exhausted you, the panic, the hovering, the carefulness afterwards- the way they’d treat you like you were fragile. You learnt ways to make it easier for them, learning how to throw the first joke into the room, how to brush it off fast enough for the benefit of everyone, so that they would unpause and move on before it got weird. 

And it worked, most people would continue on. Which was exactly how you liked it. 

Logan never really had, you noticed it in the tiny things, the way he tracked whether you’d eaten without even realising he was doing it, the protein bars he shoved into every bag you owned, the way his eyes snapped toward you anytime you stood up too fast.

And maybe it should’ve felt romantic, and maybe a part of it did. But another part of you - the ugly, exhausted, matter of fact part - felt guilty every single time. 

Because loving you looked stressful.

And somehow, against all odds, he made it look worth it. Which only made you feel even worse.

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

The first time you actively hid a dizzy spell from him had been months ago, before the others really noticed how bad your stress had gotten during midterms.

You’d all gathered at the hockey house, a break from your regularly scheduled academic meltdown and junk food hoarding. You, Hannah and Allie were in the kitchen, grabbing some drinks and glasses while Logan and the boys argued loudly over some game in the living room.

You remembered leaning against the counter while Hannah talked about one of her classes, your vision slowly fuzzing around the edges in that horribly familiar way.

“Oh no,” you muttered quietly.

Allie looked over immediately, “What?”

You pressed two fingers against your temple. “I think I stood up too fast.”

Hannah’s expression changed instantly. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You say that every single time before you’re not.”

You ignored her and reached for the fridge handle instead, horrible decision. Your stomach dipped sharply and the kitchen tilted for half a second.

“Okay,” you whispered immediately, grabbing the counter. “Maybe not fine.”

“Whoa, hey,” Allie rushed to your side, rubbing your back. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing carefully through the dizziness. From the living room, you could hear Logan laughing at something Tucker said, the sound made your heart twist, he sounded carefree, happy. 

The kind of happy that someone would be if they were operating under the pretense that their new girlfriend was only fetching drinks from the kitchen with her friends, not currently making a mental deal with god, begging him to save her the ordeal of fainting in the kitchen. 

“No,” you said quickly when Hannah glanced toward the doorway.

“What do you mean no?”

“Don’t call him.”

Allie frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” You breathed out too fast. Too desperate, “Please.”

The girls exchanged a look.

“He’ll freak out,” you admitted quietly, still staring at the floor. “And it’s literally fine. I just need a second.”

Hannah softened, “Oh,” she opted to hand you a glass of cold water. 

You laughed weakly, even though your throat felt tight, “Everyone else gets over it eventually. I’ll tell him when it feels right. ”

Allie’s face fell slightly at that but before either of them could say anything, voices got louder from the other room. You could make out the familiar, soothing sound of Logan calling your name paired with footsteps approaching.

Your eyes widened.

“Pretend nothing happened.”

“You’re insane,” Hannah hissed.

“Please.”

And somehow, against their better judgement, they did.

By the time Logan wandered into the kitchen, you were sitting on the counter swinging your legs like nothing had happened.

His eyes landed on you instantly anyway.

“You okay?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed when you blinked slowly and hummed, your knuckles whitening as your grip tightened on the platform. 

You smiled too quickly, “Peachy.”

You could practically see him sensing something off in the air, the way his gaze flicked between you, Hannah and Allie.

“You look pale.”

“I’m literally always pale.”

“That’s true,” Allie cut in suddenly, way too loudly.

Hannah stared at her.

Logan narrowed his eyes, “You guys are being weird.”

“No we’re not,” all three of you said at once.

Then Logan snorted softly and kissed your forehead, reaching for the pack of beer that had been thawing out next to you, “Okay. Freaks.”

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring the throb that emanated from the action, and accepted his hand that helped you off from your perch.

And just like that, the moment passed.

At the time, you’d felt relieved. Victorious in some sick, twisted way.

Now, sitting alone in your dorm days after the fight, the memory made your chest ache instead.

Because maybe that had been the beginning of it, the beginning of you quietly teaching yourself that it was easier if Logan didn’t know everything.

Easier if he didn’t see too much.

Your phone buzzed against your blanket.

Johnny boy 🏒: u alive?

You: unfortunately

Johnny boy 🏒: good

Johnny boy 🏒: miss u

Your throat tightened instantly and you stared at the message for way too long before finally typing back.

You: miss u too <3

This felt worse than fighting, you felt like a fraud, because he still loved you exactly the same. And you still hadn’t been able to force your feet through the front door of the hockey house.

The problem with dating John Logan, and subsequently trying to avoid him. Was that it required an almost military level of strategic planning.

And unfortunately for you- he was everywhere. This wasn’t in the metaphorical sense, though you did feel the emptiness of your heart every night when you slept alone, without him. This was in the literal sense. 

You saw him in the cafeteria holding three protein shakes and arguing with Tucker about whether ketchup belonged on eggs. You saw him outside the lecture hall one afternoon with wet hair curling slightly at the ends from practice, hockey bag slung over one shoulder while Dean tried to wrestle his headphones away from him. You saw him through library windows, through crowds, through reflections on your phone screen when you accidentally opened old photos.

And every single time, your body reacted before your brain did, you felt it in the automatic loosening of your shoulders, the daily frown melting from your mouth, a deep exhale of breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Like you subconsciously still recognised him as your ultimate release. 

Which was deeply irritating considering you were actively trying to avoid being alone with him.

It also didn’t help that he was still oblivious. From the outside, you could've passed for your usual selves. 

Because he still texted you, at the same times with the same gentle tone that he had reserved for you.

Good morning baby.

Did you eat?

Professor still annoying as fuck?

Miss you.

And you answered. Always, which was betraying the very essence of your Logan-cleanse. Matching his energy so perfectly that it almost became cruel. 

Miss you too <3

Yes mom.

No but I’m plotting murder.

Practice go okay?

There were heart reactions. There were jokes. There were even selfies.

Meanwhile, you had not willingly stood in the same room as your boyfriend for eight days.

You skipped hockey house movie nights because you “had work.” You started studying in different library wings. You left classes through side exits. You timed your schedule around his practices without even meaning to.

He noticed early on, of course he did- and of course, at first, he tried to play along with whatever you were creating. His texts became impossibly softer, less pushy like he was trying everything in his power to not scare you off.

Each time his name popped up on your phone, you could feel the truth slam into your face like a wrecking ball. 

You missed him. God. You missed him.

You missed being folded into his side on the couch while he watched terrible action movies. You missed the absentminded way he played with your fingers during lectures. You missed waking up to his stupid bedhead and warm hands and the smell of laundry detergent clinging to his hoodies.

But every time you thought about seeing him properly again, your chest tightened. Not out of anger, you just couldn’t fathom feeling the way you did when you first heard his voice break, the way your stomach fell when his lip quivered and how an acidic burn leeched up your throat when his hand tightened around yours just as you’d woken up. 

You couldn’t stop hearing it.

I don’t know how many times I can do it.

You knew he hadn’t meant for it to be cruel, he’d said it like someone admitting they were drowning. And now every time you pictured yourself next to him, all you could think about was weight. Pressure that held his head below water. Responsibility that dragged him down to the sea-bed. Another thing for him to survive.

And you couldn’t be selfish and force him to survive you, just because you knew you wouldn’t make it out of the heartbreak alive.

The library lights flickered softly overhead as you rubbed at your eyes for what had to be the hundredth time that night. Your laptop screen blurred slightly, not in the way that made you push the device out the way in preparation for your body going limp, this was exhaustion. 

The kind of exhaustion that settled somewhere behind your eyes after too many hours staring at academic journals while pretending your personal life wasn’t quietly imploding in the background.

Around you, the library had mostly emptied.

A few students still lingered in distant corners, faces illuminated by laptop screens and caffeine-fuelled despair, but the heavy silence of closing time had already started settling over the building.

You checked the time.

11:47 PM.

Jesus.

No wonder your spine felt compressed. You stretched slightly in your chair, wincing as your neck cracked.

“Still alive over there?”

You looked up.

One of the older library staff members smiled at you from the circulation desk while stacking returned books into a trolley. You offered a tired smile back, shrugging weakly as you gave him a wry grin. 

“Debatable.”

He laughed softly, “You staying late again?”

You nodded with a sigh, “Big test tomorrow.”

“That boy of yours not dragging you home tonight?”

Your stomach dipped and forced your expression not to change.

“Oh,” you said lightly, eyes dropping back to your laptop screen, “he’s got late practice.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. That’s what you told yourself to soothe the childish guilt of lying to the sweet old man in front of you. 

The librarian hummed knowingly before disappearing toward the back office.

You exhaled slowly once he was gone, fingers hovering uselessly over your keyboard.

You were tired. Not only physically, something more than that. 

You were tired of thinking. Tired of calculating. Tired of trying to figure out whether love was supposed to feel this terrifying when someone finally saw all the ugly parts of you and stayed anyway.

Your phone buzzed beside your laptop. Flipping it over, you stared at the notification for a moment before opening it. 

Johnny boy 🏒:

practice finally over. u awake?

Your chest ached instantly but you typed back before you could overthink it.

You:

Unfortunately.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Johnny boy 🏒:

Baby go to sleep.

A reluctant smile tugged at your mouth.

You:

Can’t. Studying.

A pause.

Johnny boy 🏒:

Library?

Your stomach dropped as the message glared at you, maybe, if you didn’t move the universe would decide to be merciful. It was not. The universe evidently, enjoyed your suffering. 

Because less than three minutes later, footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the corner you had tucked yourself into. Heavy in a familiar way that made your heart skip a beat. 

You looked up before you could stop yourself. And you couldn’t look away even if you tried. 

John Logan stood halfway down the corridor in a backwards Briar hockey cap and grey hoodie, hair still damp from practice and curling slightly at the edges. His hockey bag hung from one shoulder while his other hand rubbed absently at the back of his neck.

For a second neither of you moved. Your muscles felt tight, yet somehow loose, as if you physically wanted to start packing up and haul ass- but mentally you knew there was nowhere you’d rather be; that staring into this man’s eyes was probably the calmest you’ve been throughout this entire week, and like an addict, it was better for you to get lost in the warmth of his gaze. 

Logan looked up from his phone, scanning the area- the moment he met your eyes the tension seemed to melt away from his posture. 

He looked at you like he loved you before anything else.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Your throat felt weirdly tight.

“Hey.”

Logan adjusted the strap of his hockey bag slightly, glancing toward the study room beside you, “Forgot my charger here after practice last week. Thought I’d come by and grab it.”

You blinked once. Of course he did, the universe lacked both sympathy and subtlety. You looked back at your laptop quickly, pretending your pulse wasn’t behaving embarrassingly.

“Oh.” You pressed your lips together, brushing the pads of your fingers over your nails. The moment paused, hanging between the two of you. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Straight to the fucking point.

Your hands went limp and you took a pen that had been discarded nearby into your fist.

“No I haven’t.”

Logan stared at you for what seemed to be hours, but what was probably a few seconds, “Baby,” he said gently.

For some self-loathing reason, you wished he sounded angry. Instead he didn’t, he sounded like all he wanted was to bundle you up in his arms and hold you close; the thought made you swallow thickly, suddenly the entire library felt too warm. Too quiet. 

“I’ve just been busy.” You pushed off of your seat and began to walk towards the closest study room, hoping that despite its full glass exterior- it would somehow shield you from the crushing weight of this conversation, “Your charger should be in here..”

“How do you know I used this one?” Logan leaned against the door, tilting his head thoughtfully at you as you walked deeper inside, glancing momentarily at the plug sockets in search of this damn charger that brought him here.

Shrugging, you huff and fall into the sofa that sat on the edge of the space. “This one’s your favourite, perfect lighting.” You point outside where two large windows sat, normally during the day they’d spill the various hues of the hour onto the spacious desk in the centre, “Perfect placement where it’s not too noisy but not too quiet,” This was the second to last room, meaning it was never surrounded by too many students, just enough chatter to turn into a soothing white noise, “And I've been here since your practice started and nobody has used it since then.”

By the time you finished- he was looking down at his shoes, and you swore a faint blush had crept up to his cheeks, his hand came up to cover his mouth and scratch at his stubble. The nod he gave you was short, subdued- almost as if he had reigned himself in. He let himself shuffle further in, placing his bags down heavily.

Another beat of silence settled between you.

Then somewhere in the distance, a heavy door slammed shut, neither of you reacted- seeing as it was late, you figured it was the librarian closing up the other rooms for night. The overhead lights flickered. And then it went dark.

You both froze.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Logan looked toward the main entrance hallway.

Then back at you, “...Did they just lock us in?”

The first thing Logan did after realising they were locked in was laugh. Not because he was amused- he’d rather be doing 500 other things that didn’t involve the tension in this fish bowl of  a room but probably did include his girlfriend. It was more self-preservation, or insanity that made him chuckle, “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair as he stared at the firmly locked study room doors.

Behind him, you stood frozen beside the table, still clutching the highlighter you had brought in absentmindedly between your fingers like your body hadn’t fully processed the situation yet.

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, a taunting soundtrack to this car wreck of an evening, the entire library had gone eerily quiet now that everyone else was gone, the silence somehow louder than it had been all evening.

You swallowed and mustered some hope, “Maybe they’re still outside?”

Logan looked back at you. The look in his eyes nearly undid you, there was no anger in it, no irritation at the unhelpfully positive suggestion and somehow no bitterness over the fact you’d spent nearly a week dodging him while texting him like everything was perfectly normal.

Just surrender, quiet surrender to the tiredness that had settled in his face. 

“I already checked,” he said gently.

Guilt bloomed hot beneath your ribs.

“Oh.”

The hush that permeated through forced you to become painfully aware of everything. 

The fact you were alone together for the first time since the fight. The fact you still knew exactly how his hoodie smelled. The fact his hair was damp slightly at the edges from practice. The fact your body still reacted to him instantly, stupidly, helplessly.

You cleared your throat and looked away first. “Well,” you said lightly, forcing brightness into your voice, “at least if I die in here, I’ll die academic.”

Logan stared at you for a second, then he huffed out a laugh despite himself.

Your stomach twisted and you cursed yourself for the relief that coursed through your body in response to his dry chuckle. Logan rounded the table and you froze, unable to take your eyes off of him, you barely noticed the small slump in your shoulder when he paused halfway.

“You cold?” he asked absentmindedly.

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m stressed.”

“That too.”

You rolled your eyes automatically. 

Logan sat down heavily against the couch cushions, stretching his legs out in front of him with a groan, inches away from where you were perched before the both of you were locked in. 

You tried not to look at him too hard. Because if you did, the realisation would come crashing back into you, the one that you fought tooth and nail not to face. 

You’d missed him.

Not dramatically, not in a chick-flick, crying-on-your-bedroom-floor way. But there were several moments everyday you were close to those versions. You opted for the aching kind of grief, a constant pang in your chest. 

You missed him every time something funny happened and your fingers twitched toward your phone. You missed him every time you reached for coffee and automatically thought about how he always handed you the cream first because you hated black coffee. You missed him every time you woke up in your dorm bed without the weight of his arm across your waist.

It had only been a week, maybe more and that countdown made your heart seize, you were terrified if this is what barely a week felt like, you weren’t entirely sure what longer would do to you.

Logan looked over at you eventually, interrupting the rollercoaster of thoughts that bustled in your mind. 

“You gonna stand there all night?”

“I’m considering it.”

“You’re weird.”

“You’re trapped in a library at midnight because you forgot a phone charger.”

“That sounds like fate.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and the feeling came plowing through you mercilessly. The one that made this entire situation unbearable.

This easy banter made everything work. Make all the noise fade away into the background until your brain was an oasis of calm.

You sat down finally, curling yourself up into the furthest corner of the couch. Away from him. 

Logan’s eyes flicked toward the distance between you before returning to your face.

Outside the library windows, the campus had gone dark and sleepy. Streetlights glowed gold against the pavement below, shadows stretching long beneath them. You tucked your legs beneath yourself and leaned your cheek against the back of the sofa, ignoring the way he watched you do it- like he was grateful for the chance. 

Then he broke the quiet, interrupting the sound of both of you breathing with a whisper, “Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You shut your eyes, there it was. The other shoe dropped and thudded against your conscience. You were truly a terrible person. An emotional sado-masochist that had to enjoy the suffering, otherwise you wouldn’t have done this to either of you. 

You stared down at your hands, “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

Logan blinked slowly, “Baby.”

The nickname hit you like a physical blow and you looked away immediately. If he noticed you flinching, he didn’t say anything, “Every time I ask to see you,” he said carefully, “you suddenly have somewhere else to be.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You skipped movie night because you said you had a paper due.”

“I did have a paper due.”

“Hannah posted you eating Taco Bell in Allie’s room fifteen minutes later.”

You winced, “Traitor.”

Logan’s mouth twitched briefly before flattening again.

“Why?” he asked softly.

Your chest tightened, you would give an absurd amount of money to the higher power for him to stop looking at you like that. Like you were something precious he was trying not to scare away.

It made all of this harder. if he’d been angry, maybe it would’ve been easier. Instead his face was comforting, his hand itching to hold your face and coax your deepest darkest emotions out of you. 

You rubbed your palms against your jeans, “I just thought maybe you needed space.”

“From you?” His brows pulled together immediately.

You laughed quietly, but there wasn’t much humour in it. “You make it sound ridiculous when you say it like that.”

“Because it is ridiculous.”

Your throat tightened, “No it’s not.”

Logan leaned forward slightly now, elbows braced against his knees, “You fainted,” he said carefully. “I freaked out. We had one bad conversation. That doesn’t suddenly make you unbearable to be around.”

The words hit harder than they should have, because that wasn’t what you’d been trying to explain.Not really.

“That’s not the point,” You looked down and shook your head.

“Then what is?”

You bit your lip and the room filled with silence again, like some cruel torture device, where air was replaced with a void that steadily rose to your chin and swallowed you whole. Logan waited, eyes full of patience. He was always so fucking patient with you.

You hated how close tears suddenly felt, “I don’t know,” you finally admitted

Which was partially true, how were you supposed to explain something that had lived inside you for years?

The constant awareness of yourself. The humiliation of it. The way every fainting spell turned you into a problem people had to manage.

You remembered being sixteen and pretending you needed the bathroom because your vision had started going fuzzy during lunch. Locking yourself in a stall until the dizziness passed because your friends already thought you were dramatic enough.

You remembered learning how to laugh immediately after waking up because jokes made people less scared.

You remembered how relieved you always felt when people eventually stopped reacting. Because if they stopped reacting, it meant they still saw you normally.

Logan still reacted every time.

And that terrified you.

Because you knew, eventually people got tired. Eventually people realised loving someone medically inconvenient was exhausting. And you weren’t sure you could survive watching Logan reach that point.

So instead, you’d done what you always did. Pulled away first.

Your voice came out quieter this time, “You looked at me like I was dying.”

Logan went still and your throat closed up at the look on his face, like his heart had paused and brain malfunctioned.

“And I know I wasn’t,” you rushed out quickly, “I know it sounds dramatic, but that’s what freaked me out, okay? Everyone else moved on and you couldn’t and I just…”

Your laugh cracked slightly, “I don’t know how to be with someone who cares that much.”

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Logan stared at you, heartbroken in a quiet, devastating sort of way.

“Baby,” he said softly.

“No, because you don’t get it,” you twisted your fingers together tightly, “this is normal for me.”

“I know.”

“No, Logan, I don’t think you do.” You finally touched his hand, ignoring the immediate warmth that spread through your fingertips, “so much of my life has been people staring at me after it happens. Asking if I’m okay every five seconds. Acting weird around me. Watching me constantly.”

You swallowed, “And you looked terrified.”

“Because I was,” his jaw tightened as leaned back slightly, eyes still fixed on you.

“You stopped answering me,” he said quietly. “You weren’t moving.”

Your chest hurt, “I know.”

“And all I could think was what if one day you don’t wake up.”

Your breath caught. He laughed softly then, but it sounded miserable.

“Which logically, I know is insane. Garrett literally told me it’s never happened like that before.”

“Because it won’t.”

“I know.”

“But?”

Logan looked at you for a long moment, “But I love you,” he rubbed a hand over his face before continuing more quietly, “I know you hate being treated like you’re fragile.”

Your throat tightened as he continued, “And I know I probably make it worse sometimes.”

You opened your mouth but he shook his head, flipping his hand over to intertwine your fingers on the empty seat between you, “No, let me finish.” After a deep breath, and approximately four seconds of gruelling silence, “But you avoiding me doesn’t make me less scared, baby. It just means I’m scared without you.”

The silence after that felt different, painfully honest. You envied him for that, for his ability to say such devastatingly honest things as though it was like water flowing out of him. 

You stared at Logan from across the couch, your chest aching so badly it almost felt murderous. Slow understanding creeped into your mind, why he freaked out that evening, why he was so tense in class. 

It was unadulterated fear that coursed through his blood, like someone had held a knife up to your throat and threatened him, and all he could do was stand there uselessly. 

You wished he’d been dramatic, maybe you could've brushed it off. If he suddenly became controlling, maybe you could've gotten angry. If he treated you like glass, maybe you could’ve pushed back and shattered in his grip. Any emotional outburst would’ve made it easier for you to walk away, to take the burden away from him. But he didn’t all he did was sit there in his emotions, solid, ready to hold yours. Because he loved you, purely, wholeheartedly, in a way that terrified you to your very core. 

Your eyes dropped to your hands, “I didn’t mean to punish you,” you admitted quietly.

Logan’s expression softened.

“Baby.”

“I know,” you interrupted quickly, rubbing at your face with exhausted fingers. “I know this whole thing probably feels insane from your side.”

“A little.”

Despite yourself, you laughed weakly, “There it is. ”

“There what is?”

“You, being annoying.”

His mouth twitched.

“You love when I’m annoying.”

“I tolerate it affectionately.”

“Liar.”

The ease of conversation made you want to bash your head against a wall, no matter how emotionally catastrophic things got between you, the two of you still somehow slipped naturally into this rhythm that belonged entirely to you.

You hated how much you missed it.

Logan watched you carefully for another moment before speaking again.

“Come here.”

Your stomach flipped and you looked up at him. 

“What?”

“Come here.”

You stared at him suspiciously, “You could also come here.”

“I could,” he agreed. “But you’ve been sitting as far away from me as physically possible for the last twenty minutes, so I’m trying to make a point.”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“I was not sitting as far away as physically possible.”

“Baby, there’s an entire couch cushion between us like we’re in couples therapy.”

You snorted, but you softened when he smiled at you, like hearing you laugh loosened something in his chest. Tearing your gaze away from him, you looked down at your intertwined fingers, tapping them randomly against his palm. 

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered.

“What did I do?”

“You made me emotionally confront things.”

“Oh, tragic.”

“It was horrible actually.”

Logan huffed out another quiet laugh, and then let out a shaky breath,  “Please come here.”

There was something almost unfair in the way he said please, like he was asking for something so delicate, that you couldn’t possibly say no.

Your chest squeezed painfully as you shuffled slowly before your brain stopped you. The second you were close enough, his entire body relaxed and he tentatively wound an arm around your waist, pressing into the briar hoodie that you had carelessly thrown on that morning. He tugged you closer and unwrapped his hand, resting it instead on your thigh, like touching you was muscle memory.

You nearly started crying right there, sniffing quietly you looked down at your lap, “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Logan looked down at you, his eyebrows pinched, “For what?”

“For making you feel crazy.”

His expression softened so fast it hurt.

“You didn’t make me feel crazy.”

You gave him a look, this close you could see the small lines in his face, grooves that had implanted themselves into his skin- like he had slept with a small frown on his face for days. 

“Logan.”

“Okay,” he admitted reluctantly. “Maybe a little crazy.”

“A little?”

“You were texting me hearts while actively fleeing every building I entered.”

You winced, “In my defence, I didn’t realise how often you exist.”

“I go to this school.”

“Unfortunately.”

His thumb brushed absently against your knee.

“You could’ve just told me you needed a second.”

Your nose burned, “I didn’t know how.”

He nodded slowly, watching you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear- he rested his chin on your head, before exhaling, “I need you to understand something.”

You glanced up.

“When you faint,” he said carefully, “I’m not upset at you.”

“I know.”

“No,” his voice stayed gentle as he murmured into your hair, “Baby, I’m scared because I love you. Not because you’re inconvenient.”

You didn’t say anything, scared that whatever words would spill out from your mouth would be garbled with emotion, instead you pulled at the hair tie around your wrist. His hand shifted from your knee, fingers curling lightly around where your fingers plucked.

“Hey.” He shifted, bent his head down to meet your eyes, “You don’t have to do that with me.”

“What?”

“Act like it’s not hard sometimes.”

You looked away from him, choosing a point on the grey carpet to focus on, “It is hard…” you admitted finally, voice small now, “for you, I know it is.”

Logan looked genuinely confused.

“Taking care of me.”

His entire face changed, something that resembled a profound sadness mixed with disbelief that made his eyebrows shoot up and mouth part, “Baby,” he said slowly, “do you seriously think I’m with you out of obligation?”

“No.”

“But?”

You laughed weakly.

“But eventually people get tired.” The words rushed out of you, like a fact. A proven knowledge in the world, that after a few bouts of your dizziness, people would stop trying.

This ugly truth that was patiently sitting beneath everything, was now visible. Exposed and ready to be poked at. 

Logan went very still beside you, and suddenly a wave of embarrassment and self-awareness washed over you, like you’d accidentally exposed something too raw. 

You shrugged lightly, pretending your exterior hadn’t just cracked, “It’s just easier when people move on quickly after it happens,” you admitted quietly. “Because then I can pretend it wasn’t a whole thing.”

Logan stared at you.

“You think I should care less?”

“No!”

You groaned immediately, pressing your palms over your face.

“Oh my god, this is why I avoided this conversation.”

Logan actually laughed softly then.

“You’re terrible at emotional vulnerability.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re literally hiding inside your own hands right now.”

“Because this is awful.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrists gently.

“Hey.”

You resisted for approximately two seconds before letting him pull your hands away from your face. And he came into view again, a small, encouraging smile on his face- looking at you like you mattered more than anything else in his life.

“I don’t want you to care less,” you whispered.

Logan’s thumb brushed softly against your skin.

“Okay.”

“I just…”

Your voice wobbled slightly.

“I don’t know how to let someone love me this much without feeling guilty for it.”

Something in Logan’s expression shattered, “Oh, baby.”

You blinked hard and Logan moved before you could stop him. One second there was still a respectable distance between the two of you, the next he had shuffled closer, thighs pressing against yours- his hands cupping your face carefully. Warm palms and calloused fingers grazed against your cheeks tenderly, the familiar smell of detergent, cold air and Logan surrounded you instantly. 

You exhaled shakily, a hand coming up to wrap loosely around his. 

“You are not a burden to me.”

“Logan-”

“No.”

His voice stayed soft, but firmer now, “You don’t get to decide for me what loving you feels like,” he bumped his forehead against yours and admitted quietly, “yeah, sometimes I get scared.”

You swallowed.

“But that doesn’t make me love you less.”

Your chest hurt so badly now it was unbearable.

Logan’s eyes flitted between yours, “It just means I need you here long enough to keep doing it.”

That was what finally broke you. A small, devastated sound left your throat before your face crumpled against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you into his front with such certainty like there would never be world where he wouldn’t 

“Oh baby,” he murmured softly into your hair.

Your fingers twisted into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I hate this,” you whispered thickly.

“I know.”

“I feel insane.”

“You’re a little insane.”

You laughed through your tears.

“Shut up.”

“There she is.”

You shoved weakly at his chest, Logan held you tighter- burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

His hand rubbed slowly up and down your back, as he pressed soft kisses below your ear and whispered soft assurances whilst you sobbed into his sweatshirt. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek and you stayed like that for a long time, enough for your breathing to even out, hiccups turning into slow drags of oxygen.  

You pulled back slightly and Logan looked at you with an unbearably soft expression that made your stomach flip

“You done avoiding me now?” he asked quietly.

You sniffed.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I need time to recover from being emotionally perceived.”

His smile finally appeared properly then. God, you missed his smile.

Logan brushed his thumb beneath your eye gently, wiping away the last stray tear that leaked from the corner of your lashes. 

“You know,” he murmured, “most people just buy flowers after arguments.”

You stared at him.

“Did you just compare this to a normal couple disagreement?”

“Absolutely.”

“We got trapped in a library and trauma bonded.”

He grinned at you, like a vintage actor who was closing off the impossibly long black-and-white romcom, “That’s romance, baby.”

You laughed again.

And this time, Logan looked like hearing you laugh was the greatest relief he’d felt all week.

Eventually, the emotional devastation settled enough for both of you to remember you were still physically trapped inside a university library. You were curled against Logan’s side on the couch now, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders while the other lazily scrolled through his phone.

His thumb paused on Garrett’s chat.

Cap’n crunch 💪 : where are you?

Cap’n crunch 💪 : wait are u both together rn

Cap’n crunch 💪 : OH MY GOD

Cap’n crunch 💪 : DID YOU DIE TOO???

You snorted into Logan’s chest.

“He’s so dramatic.”

“Says you.”

You tilted your head up immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Baby, you vanished off the face of the earth for a week because I had emotions near you.”

“I was processing.”

“You were fleeing.”

“Processing while moving very fast. Away from you. ”

Logan laughed quietly and you flicked his forehead. You hadn’t just missed him, you missed this. The easy teasing and warmth of his words, the way he always made the world feel softer around the edges. 

You sank lower against him instinctively, your cheek pressed against the warm fabric of his hoodie.

His hand immediately slid into your hair.

“You know,” Logan murmured after a moment, “this would be significantly more romantic if we weren’t sitting next to a printer.”

You glanced toward the large copy machine three feet away.

“…I don’t know. It’s kind of giving academic enemies to lovers.”

“We’ve literally been dating for eight months.”

“Details.” You waved him off.

His chest shook with another laugh, he pressed his lips against your forehead and mumbled, “I missed you.”

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him.

“You texted me like… every day.”

“You know what I mean.”

You hummed and nodded. His hand slid from your hair to your jaw slowly, thumb brushing along your cheek, making your breath catch.

“You gonna run away from me again?” he asked softly.

You narrowed your eyes, “Not sure… It was going pretty well until you interrupted me.”

“Brutal.”

“I’m kidding.”

“You better be.” 

The words came out light, teasing almost- but you could feel the vulnerability beneath them, shifting upward slightly you brought your lips up to his; waiting for him to meet you halfway. He pressed into you so he could envelope your mouth with his. 

It shouldn’t have felt this overwhelming after one week. But it did.

His hand cupped your jaw carefully while he kissed you slow and warm and familiar, like he was still relearning the shape of your mouth after being denied access to it for days.

You melted instantly, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie while Logan smiled softly against your lips.

“Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon,” he murmured.

You kissed him again to shut him up. It didn’t work, because the man kept smiling into every kiss like he couldn’t physically stop himself even if he tried.

“You’re so annoying,” you whispered.

“And yet.”

“And yet unfortunately you’re cute.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Baby, it’s been to my head.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically before kissing him again, this one was softer, sleepier in a way that wasn’t rushed, where you’d part slowly, barely a millimetre from each other just to feel the soft pants fan across your face before reconnecting, lips moulding together in soft caresses. 

Logan’s fingers rubbed absent circles into your waist through your sweater, outside the campus had gone completely dark- the yellow glow of the lamp posts bled into the isles of the library, the only guidance in the pitch black of your surroundings. 

You were vaguely aware that at some point this situation probably needed solving. But you were too preoccupied with your boyfriend, who smelt so good and was holding you like he’d been touch-starved for days. 

You priorities seemed very straightforward. 

“You know what’s crazy?” you murmured lazily, your head lolling onto his shoulder, cradled against his bicep.

“What?”

“We’re probably gonna have to explain this to everyone.”

Logan groaned immediately.

“Oh my god.”

You started laughing.

“Garrett is going to be unbearable.”

“Hannah’s gonna cry.”

“Allie’s gonna think we secretly got married.”

“She already basically thinks that.”

You smiled against his cheek, “…Do you think they’ll be worried?”

Logan looked down at you and shrugged, “Probably.”

Guilt flickered briefly through your stomach.

“Hey.”

His fingers tilted your chin upward gently.

“You’re allowed to have hard moments, baby.”

You looked at him quietly and scrunched your nose, “That still feels fake when you say it.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I know.”

Before you could respond, sudden footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the main circulation desk.

Both of you froze.

You blinked.

“…Wait.”

Logan sat up slightly.

“…There’s someone else here?”

Another noise.

Then a voice spoke from the darkness outside your glass prison.

“Jesus Christ, finally.”

You both whipped around to where the voice was coming from.

Mr. Donahue - the older overnight librarian with permanent reading glasses and the energy of someone spiritually exhausted by college students - appeared around the corner holding a janitor’s keyring.

You stared.

He stared back.

Then, with the same patience of an uninterested lion and its prey, he grumbled, “You two done?”

Your brain stopped functioning.

“…Done?” you repeated faintly.

Mr. Donahue gave you a deeply unimpressed look.

“With the world’s longest relationship crisis.”

Beside you, Logan went completely rigid.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Mr. Donahue sighed the sigh of a man who had worked at a university for too long.

“You think I didn’t notice you two sitting in here crying at each other?”

Your mouth fell open.

Logan looked horrified.

“You locked us in on purpose?”

The librarian shrugged.

“You seemed busy.”

You made a strangled noise somewhere between laughter and humiliation.

“Oh my god.”

Mr. Donahue pointed a finger toward Logan.

“You.”

Logan blinked, he pressed his palm at himself, in the centre of his chest. 

“…Me?”

“She’s clearly obsessed with you.”

You buried your face in your hands immediately, “Sir.”

“And you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a week straight.”

Logan made the mistake of looking smug for approximately half a second.

“You looked miserable without me?” you asked immediately.

His smugness vanished.

Mr. Donahue snorted.

“Kid looked one inconvenience away from writing poetry.”

You burst into helpless laughter and Logan whipped his head around to look at you, deeply betrayed by your amusement, “This is actually insane.”

Mr. Donahue shrugged again.

“I’ve worked here for fifteen years. You learn things.”

You were still laughing when the older man finally unlocked the door.

Before leaving, though, he paused. Then slowly turned to look directly at you, “Eat real meals,” he said firmly.

Your face heated instantly and you buried into your hands, “Oh my god.”

“And you,” he added, pointing toward Logan now, “stop looking at her like a Victorian widower every time she gets dizzy.”

Logan looked scandalised.

You wheezed.

Mr. Donahue nodded once, satisfied. And then jerked his thumb behind him, “Alright. Get out.” The doors swung open and he trotted away. 

Neither of you moved.

Then slowly, Logan looked down at you, “…Victorian widower?”

You immediately lost it again.

“He clocked you so bad.”

“I hate that man.”

“No you don’t.”

“No,” He admitted thoughtfully, “I kinda love him.”

You were both still laughing quietly when Logan finally stood, pulling you up with him.

And the second you were upright, his arms wrapped around your waist again automatically. Like he refused to stop touching you now that he had you in his grasp.

You looked up at him and pushed his damp hair off his forehead- the library lights that Mr. Donahue flicked on reflected warm gold across his face. And suddenly, everything from last week felt very far away. 

Logan leaned down slowly until his forehead rested against yours.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yeah.”

And this time?

You both believed it.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @harls-sturn, @https-dandelion, @watergirl85, @brianna28483, @irishone11, @anyasthoughts, @kmc1989, @norrisidous, @glorveina, @zophiathefirst, @outpostsworld, @yomamaslays4lyfe, @babblegumgirl101, @itmekelpy, @strengthandstay, @run-for-the-hills, @eviemae5864, @tabisswag, @reveries01, @gojodaddy1029 @lukeyoumeanit, @ashloveshockey, @fandom-princess-forevermore @thewrxith05 @jemimah-b99, @themarvelousbee, @roisebear, @bootyliciousbutterfly, @clarittys, @mossmydarling

fainting had always been a little bit inconvenient.

not dramatic enough to be cinematic, not predictable enough to properly prepare for - just inconvenient in the kind of way that slowly embeds itself into every aspect of your life until you stop noticing how abnormal it actually is. It all started in high school, the first time it happened was arguably horrifying- 3rd period math class, and your crush had just offered you a pen and flashed you a crooked smile. Your heart raced, like a hummingbird wild and erratic and before you knew it, one minute you were bashfully giggling at his jokes about quadratic equations- the next you were face first in your notebook. The doctors told you Vasovagal Syncope, which in your opinion sounded like a hard metal rock band, but you took their blood pressure medicines from that day onwards. 

Over time, you learnt how to live with it. Sometimes it was manageable. Sometimes it was just dizziness and blurry vision making you sit down on the nearest surface before your body decided to humble you publicly. Sometimes it was waking up to panicked faces hovering over you while you tried to convince everyone around you that no, seriously, this happened all the time.

which, unfortunately, was true.

Allie and Hannah learned the quickest, being roommates would do that to you. The boys learned soon after. By junior year, there was practically a system in place for it - water bottles shoved into your hands, someone grabbing your bag before you hit the floor, Garrett texting Logan before you were even fully conscious again.

Logan, however, never quite adjusted to it the way everyone else did.

he tried to.

God, he tried.

but there was something uniquely horrifying about loving someone whose body could go slack in your arms without warning. Something deeply unsettling about the way you always laughed it off afterwards, brushing it aside with flushed cheeks and a quiet, "I'm okay,” while his heart was still somewhere near his throat.

because to you, fainting was normal.

to John Logan, it never would be.

But here are the two times he dealt with it..somewhat normally. And the one time he didn’t

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝟏

The library at Briar had a very specific kind of silence.

Not actual silence - that would’ve been impossible considering half the student population seemed physically incapable of existing without aggressively whispering every thought that crossed their mind - but the sort of hushed atmosphere that made every dropped pen sound like a gunshot.

You were currently trying very hard not to contribute to that atmosphere by murdering John Logan with a highlighter.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Logan muttered from across the table, long legs nudging yours beneath it.

You didn’t look up from your notes, underlining a sentence in your physiology textbook hard enough to nearly tear the page. “Because,” You whispered sharply, “you’ve tapped your foot against mine for the last fifteen minutes.”

“That’s because my feet are freezing.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“It became my problem when you shoved your icy ass converse under my legs.”

A snort came from beside you. Hannah quickly disguised it as a cough when you glared at her over your laptop screen.

Across from her, Garrett looked deeply unbothered by the entire interaction, lazily flipping a page in his philosophy textbook while Hannah slowly collapsed into silent laughter against his shoulder.

“You two are disgusting,” Allie informed you quietly from the end of the table.

You blinked. “We’re literally studying.”

Logan hummed, not even pretending to pay attention to the stats worksheet in front of him anymore, “Yeah baby, real filthy behaviour.”

Heat crawled up your neck instantly.

The word baby wasn’t exactly new. Logan had been throwing it around for months now, slipping it into conversations with such casual ease that you’d stopped reacting outwardly somewhere around week three, despite the fact every single time still felt like someone plugging your nervous system directly into a live wire.

“You’re staring again,” You muttered.

“I’m allowed to stare at my girlfriend.”

Allie gagged dramatically.

“Oh my god,” She whispered loudly, “he’s gotten even more annoying.”

“Impossible,” Hannah replied solemnly.

Garrett barely glanced up from his book. “Give it a week. They’ll become one organism.”

“We already basically are,” Logan said casually.

You finally looked up at him then.

That was the problem with Logan. The reason you’d fallen for him so spectacularly despite your better judgement.

He said things like that so easily. Like it was obvious.

obviously he’d started keeping protein bars in his backpack because you forgot to eat when you were stressed. obviously he waited outside your exam halls even when he had practice. obviously your legs ended up over his lap every time you sat together for longer than ten minutes.

Your chest tightened softly.

And because apparently the universe enjoyed humiliating you whenever you got too emotionally comfortable, your vision blurred slightly at the exact same moment.

You frowned. That was… inconvenient timing.

The words on your laptop screen swam for half a second before sharpening again. Your heartbeat fluttered unpleasantly.

Not enough to panic over yet. You subtly shifted in your seat, rolling your neck and readjusting your posture- hoping to god that it would be enough, trying to ignore the familiar lightheadedness curling at the edges of your body.

“Hey.”

Logan’s voice dropped quieter instantly.

You looked over.

His brows had pulled together slightly, eyes scanning your face with terrifying precision.

“How long?” He asked softly.

Damn him.

Most people didn’t notice until you were actively halfway unconscious.

“I’m okay,” You whispered automatically.

A look crossed his face. Because he knew that tone. Knew what it meant when you said I’m okay in that specific careful voice. Your boyfriend leaned back slightly in his chair, completely ignoring the fact that Garrett was now openly watching the interaction over the top of his textbook.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blinked once.

Logan sighed immediately. “Baby.”

“I had coffee?”

Allie dropped her pen onto the table. “Oh my god.”

“You can’t survive on caffeine and academic validation,” Hannah hissed.

“I literally can though.”

“No,” Logan said flatly, “you literally cannot. That’s the whole issue.”

Despite yourself, you laughed quietly.

Wrong decision.

The movement sent dizziness crashing through you harder this time, your stomach dipping sharply as black spots burst across your vision. Logan was moving before you could even process it properly. One second you were upright, the next his hand was wrapped around your wrist while the other steadied your shoulder.

“Hey,” He said immediately, voice calm enough that someone who didn’t know him wouldn’t notice the tension underneath it, “look at me.”

Your body felt frustratingly floaty all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” You murmured weakly.

“Yeah, sweetheart, that sentence is losing credibility.”

Garrett was already standing.

“I’ll get water.”

Hannah reached for your bag without needing to ask while Allie shoved your laptop aside to make room.

The horrifying thing was how practised everyone looked doing it.

Like this had become routine.

Which, unfortunately, it kind of had.

“I hate all of you,” You mumbled as Logan carefully crouched in front of your chair.

“You love us deeply,” Allie corrected.

“Stockholm syndrome maybe.”

“You literally chose to date one of them,” Hannah pointed out.

“That weakens your argument significantly,” Garrett called over his shoulder.

Logan ignored all of them.

His thumb pressed lightly against your pulse point while he watched your face with that same concentrated expression he got before hockey games. Like he could somehow prevent your body from betraying you if he paid enough attention.

Your chest ached.

“Hey,” You whispered softly once your vision finally started stabilising again.

Logan looked up immediately.

You reached out without thinking, fingers brushing against the crease between his eyebrows. The tension sitting there.

“I’m okay.”

He closed his eyes for half a second. Then he turned his head slightly and pressed a quick kiss into the centre of your palm before standing back up.

The library collectively chose that exact moment to become aware of the fact that the hockey team’s second line centre was looking at you like you personally held his heart hostage.

“Oh my god,” Allie whispered dramatically.

Hannah looked emotional.

Garrett looked disgusted.

“Suddenly we’re all trapped in a Nicholas Sparks novel,” he muttered.

Logan didn’t even glance away from you.

“Shut up,” He said absentmindedly, still watching your face carefully, “she almost passed out.”

“I did not almost pass out.”

“That’s not medically valid.” Logan shot.

You flicked his forehead, “You’re not medically valid,” 

You stared at him for two seconds before bursting into startled laughter.

And just like that, some of the fear eased out of his shoulders.

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝟐

The thing about the hockey house was that it never really felt like anyone was visiting it.

It felt like everyone was always a part of this little ecosystem, even if half of them technically still had their own places and the other half only owned two plates and a concerning number of energy drinks that nobody could fully account for.

Tonight was one of those nights where everything blurred into something almost domestic in a way you loved. Garrett and Hannah were folded into each other on the armchair in the corner, Hannah scrolling absently while Garrett spoke over her shoulder in low, easy comments about something on his screen that she kept pretending not to care about but clearly did. 

Dean and Allie were on the floor near the coffee table, Allie leaning against him in that casual way that somehow always ended with her stealing his hoodies and Dean acting like he was personally offended by affection while still adjusting her position when she shifted too much.

And then there was Tucker, occupying the remaining space , talking at a volume that suggested he had forgotten walls existed.

You were on the couch.

Logan was on the couch too, your legs resting across his lap, your head resting on the back of the couch. His hand had found your ankle at some point during the evening and had simply stayed there, like it had decided that was where it belonged and saw no reason to reconsider.

“Have you eaten today?,” Logan murmured into your ear, not looking up from his phone.

You didn’t look away from the conversation Dean was having with Allie about whether cereal could be classified as a personality trait. “Hmm?”

“Did you eat today baby?” He dropped his phone into his lap and caressed your hair.

“I think so.”

A pause.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does if you really think about it.”

Hannah glanced over from the armchair. “She’s lying.”

“I am not lying.”

Garrett didn’t look up. “You had toast and emotional distress.”

“I had toast and a very normal amount of stress.”

Logan’s thumb pressed lightly against your ankle once, absent and automatic, but his attention had shifted to you properly now. Not fully concerned yet, but already recalibrating the room around your answer the way he always did when he thought something might be off.

“Baby,” he said quietly, like it was a habit more than a warning.

You finally turned your head slightly toward him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

“You’re absolutely starting something.”

Across the room, Allie made a sound of exaggerated disgust without even looking up. “I can feel the health lecture forming.”

Dean nodded. “It’s in the air.”

Logan ignored them completely. “You said you had toast this morning.”

“I did.”

“And then what.”

You hesitated.

Which was apparently answered enough.

Hannah sighed. “Oh my god.”

“I had coffee,” you admitted finally, because there was no point pretending anymore.

Garrett closed his eyes briefly like he was praying for patience. “That’s not food.”

“It has beans in it.”

“That’s not how nutrition works,” Logan said, though his voice was still calm, still even, like he was trying very hard not to make it into a bigger thing than it already was.

You shifted your legs slightly on his lap, rolling your eyes. “You’re all obsessed with me.”

“Yes,” Allie said immediately.

“That’s not-”

“Yes,” Dean repeated, “we are.”

You opened your mouth to concede and hop to the kitchen, go grab whatever tucker had made and stored in the fridge, but the words didn’t come out as smoothly as they should have.

It wasn’t immediate. It never was, much to your annoyance. It was subtle in the way your body always was about these things, like it preferred to give you enough time to be pissed before it betrayed you properly.

A slight softening at the edges of your vision first, like the room had decided to lose definition without informing you. The low hum of conversation didn’t change, but it felt slightly further away, like you were listening to it through water.

You frowned. This was inconvenient.

You shifted your weight on the couch instinctively, trying to ground yourself without drawing attention to it, but Logan noticed anyway. Of course he did.

His hand tightened slightly around your ankle.

“You good?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded automatically. “Yea,” pushing off the sofa, hoping the movement would reboot your brain,”... yeah im fine.”

It came out too fast. Logan’s expression changed imperceptibly, the way it always did when he didn’t believe you but hadn’t yet decided whether to challenge it in front of everyone.

“Hey,” he said again, softer, his hand wrapped around your wrist- following you away from your seat.

You tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t quite land properly even in your own ears. “I’m finally listening to you guys, just going to grab something to eat.”

You pushed yourself to step away.

That was when it hit properly. Your body simply decided that it was no longer participating in the conversation. The room loosened, like the edges stopped agreeing with each other and in between the gaps your brain filled with black spots.

You reached out without thinking, fingers brushing the back of the couch as your knees went weak in a way that didn’t feel like anything at first, until it did.

“Hey-”

Logan’s voice cut through immediately, sharper now, closer than it had been a second ago, but it was already too late for clarity.

There was so much movement all at once.

Someone swearing.

A water bottle being cracked open.

The shuffling of sneakers and socks against the floor.

Coming back was always the worst part.

Because there was always a moment where you could hear everything before you could properly exist inside it again. Voices layered over each other, closer this time, less casual.

“I’ve got her,” Logan’s voice said, low and controlled in a way that didn’t quite match the tension underneath it.

“She’s out cold?” Dean asked, like he was trying not to panic but also deeply failing.

“She’s not- don’t say it like that,” Allie snapped immediately.

“Water,” Garrett said somewhere to the side, already moving.

And then your vision finally returned in pieces.

Ceiling first.

Then faces.

Then Logan.

He was closest.

Crouched in front of you, one hand steadying your shoulder, the other still holding your wrist like he hadn’t fully decided whether letting go was allowed yet. His expression wasn’t dramatic in the way people expected panic to be.

He was focussed on you, in a way that made your chest tighten before you even fully remembered why. You blinked slowly.

“Oh,” you muttered. “That was annoying.”

Relief flickered across Allie’s face instantly. “She’s alive.”

“Barely,” Dean said.

“I heard that,” you murmured.

Logan didn’t smile, “you scared me,” he said finally. You swallowed, trying to sit up, but his hand immediately steadied you again, firmer now.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you replied automatically, accepting the water from garrett with a smile, you reach over to your bag and search for an energy bar. You hated the nutty torture snacks, but Logan insisted on you carrying them around for emergencies.

Everyone around you had relaxed, Hannah, Garrett and Tucker went to the kitchen, animatedly chatting about dinner whereas Allie and Dean went back to their places on the floor, already scrolling through her phone. 

Logan hadn’t moved, his fingers drumming against your knee. Your fingers moved without thinking, brushing lightly against his sleeve.

“I’m okay,” you said again, softer this time, like it might mean something more if you said it gently enough.

Logan exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking briefly shut like he was trying to steady something in himself. He shook his head, as if the movie had been unpaused and he had momentarily lost the plot. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝟑

Logan got the message in the middle of something he would not later be able to reconstruct properly, not because it wasn’t important, but because everything that happened immediately after replaced it so completely that the original context never stood a chance of surviving in his memory.

His phone buzzed incessantly on his desk breaking his concentration from whatever his professor was droning about ,to the group chat notifications exploding on his phone screen. It was Hannah’s name first, then Garrett’s, then Allie’s, all stacked on top of each other in a way  that made him unlock his phone and scroll through hurriedly. 

you fainted. properly. you're awake now. come back.

He read it once without reacting in any visible way, which was what made it worse in hindsight, everything else that he had been doing was irrelevant, as though the idea of continuing it belonged to someone else entirely, and he was no longer that person.

By the time he got back to the house, his hoodie was half-zipped because he had started putting it on properly and then stopped halfway through, his cap still backwards and slightly uneven like he had forgotten it was there at all and his hair underneath it flattened in places that suggested his hand had been through it more times than he had noticed.

Logan shut off his ignition and ran up the stairs, two at a time until he was bursting through the front door- his bag hanging from one shoulder as he scanned the scene in front of him. Garrett stood near the kitchen counter with a glass of water he had clearly forgotten to drink from, Hannah sat on the couch angled slightly forward in a posture that suggested she had not yet decided whether she was allowed to relax, Allie hovered somewhere between the hallway and the living room in a way that made it clear she had been going back and forth between checking on you and giving you space, and Dean existed in that familiar state of pretending not to be paying attention while absolutely paying attention.

And you were on the couch. Your eyes were open but not fully anchored yet, blinking slowly in that delayed way that made it clear your body was still catching up to where you were. Your shoulders were slightly hunched forward as if you were trying to find the correct posture for being awake again and your hands were loosely folded in your lap before you noticed him properly.

The moment you did, everything in you shifted in a way that was immediate and familiar, like muscle memory rather than thought. You sat up, twisting over the couch to meet his eyes and smile with your hand outstretched- that was when the collective inhale happened, like even the house was waiting to see what he would do.

His eyes stayed on you without breaking, taking in the fact that you were sitting there, awake, conscious, present, and yet his brain still hadn’t stopped running like a hamster on a wheel, rotating again and again through all the scenarios he had plagued himself with on the drive over- a broken movie reel that fluttered between bad, worse and catastrophic.

You saw him, the way his eyes darted all over your face, how his hand was tightening and loosening against his bag strap. 

“Hey,” you said, your voice slightly rough, but it jumpstarted him to begin slowly approaching you, like a wounded animal. Your first instinct whenever he looked like that, as if you could smooth the edges of his expression back into something manageable by making yourself smaller within it, which was something you did without hesitation, like it was part of a pattern you had both already agreed to without ever discussing it.

He let you. 

Let you intertwine your fingers with him and pull him closer next to you. Let you kiss his hands, then knuckles and then the side of his wrist. He let you ground him before he could process anything.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, already aware of how the room was still holding itself slightly tense, and your voice tilted into something apologetic without fully meaning to, “I’m sorry guys, I must not have realised how stressed I was. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, I just didn’t eat properly and I got a bit dizzy and I didn’t realise it would turn into anything, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

Around you, the room began to release itself in pieces.

Garrett exhaled and shifted his weight like he had been waiting for permission to stop bracing, Hannah leaned back into the couch again as her shoulders loosened, Allie moved a step closer to you and immediately started talking in that half-joking, half-relieved tone about electrolytes and how she was “putting you on a schedule if this ever happens again,” and Dean, finally, contributed something about how he shouldn’t have asked about how your paper went, and he’ll let you run him over with his car to relieve stress next time, which was unhelpful but normal in a way that helped everyone else reset.

You leaned into Logan without thinking, still holding his hand, your body molding into his as you rubbed circles on his knuckles and pressed your hand into his thigh

You looked up at him, already softer, already slipping back into the version of the evening where everything was normal again. But what you couldn’t see was the way his emotions swirled thunderously in his mind, how he couldn’t begin to relax like everyone else did- in fact he was baffled they were so normal so quickly. He barely heard you ask about his class, or notice when you peppered soft kisses to his jaw and say that you missed him- how boring it was when he wasn’t there. As though the structure of his day mattered more than anything.

He tried to answer at first, his words bubbling to the tip of his tongue, but it didn’t take long for him to realise they wouldn’t come out in a smooth, caramelised way that would flow into the calm atmosphere of the room. He gently let go of your hand, in a decisive way that made you furrow your brows and scan his face.

“Logan?” you said, quieter now, not fully alarmed but already sensing the direction this was going.

He rubbed his hands together, throat working thickly as his adams apple bobbed. Everyone else had noticed the shift, conversations slowed. Dean stopped mid-sentence. Allie’s expression changed slightly as she looked between the two of you. Hannah went still in a way that suggested she was no longer sure whether to intervene or wait.

Logan turned to you, his hair falling in specks along his forehead, “I need a minute.” He got up and went upstairs, footsteps heavy along the ceiling of where you all stayed frozen until his bedroom door clicked closed; you blinked a few times, looking at your friends who met you with confused, concerned shrugs and shakes of their heads.

Your expression tightened and you pushed yourself up to follow him, ignoring whatever advice your friends were half-heartedly giving you. 

When the door creaked open under your hand, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, hands braced on his knees and holding his head, as though he needed something solid to hold the weight of his thoughts. His cap lay discarded on the floor, shoulders slightly lifted in tension that he was not releasing, and when you entered the doorway he did not look immediately, as if he already knew what would happen if he looked at you too quickly.

When he did meet your eyes, it was not anger that you saw first, but something more difficult to place because it did not sit cleanly in any single emotion. It looked like a strain held in place for too long.

“You shouldn’t apologise like that,” he said, and you frowned slightly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. Trapping whatever conversation you were about to have within these four walls.

“I wasn’t- I just didn’t want everyone worrying,” you said, still trying to smooth it over in the same way you had in the other room, still trying to keep it within something manageable. The bedframe creaked under you, as if warning you from crossing your legs and sinking into this situation.

But he shook his head once, not dismissive but overwhelmed, and when he spoke again his voice had shifted into something quieter but sharper at the edges, “You were apologising for being unconscious.”

That made you stop, properly stop, because it didn’t match the version of the moment you had been holding onto, and he saw that in your face immediately.

“I wasn’t here,” he said, and there was something in the way he said it that made it clear that time had not been abstract for him in the same way it was for you. “You were just gone, and I found out from my phone blowing up, messages that had sat there for god knows how long because…” He grit his teeth, “I just had to turn it on silent for class. And I get back to everyone telling me it was fine, that you’re fine, like that changes anything.”

You try to re-anchor him in proximity the same way you always did, your hand finding his again, your voice softening as you said, “You can’t always be there Logan, I don’t want you to always be on edge. I’m okay.”

But when he looked at you this time, there was something in his expression that did not settle with that reassurance.

“I know,” he said quietly, and it came out with more restraint than anything he had said earlier, like it was something he had been holding back for a long time and could no longer keep contained in the same shape. “I just don’t know how to stop thinking about what it looked like when you weren’t.”

You cup his cheek, turning him towards you, “I’m right here baby,” You kiss him, imprinting the taste of you onto his mouth, the feel of your lips together as a way to tell him that you’re still there with him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan held your wrists, his fingers shaking against your skin, “I..” his eyes were wide, pupils flicking between yours, “I never know when you aren’t going to be here.”

He tugged at your hands and you let him, nails digging into the bedsheet uselessly next to you. Your breath caught in your throat, face quaking and crumbling at the edges, eyelashes fluttering- beating away the bubbling tears forming on your lashline. 

“I think I’ll sleep at the dorm tonight,” you said eventually, and your voice was softer than it had been before, tired in a way that didn’t fully belong to the moment.

Logan looked up at that, but he didn’t stop you, just watched with a shattered look in his eyes, his lips pursed and pressed against his hands that were clasped together. You collected your things as seamlessly as possible, and given that you’d stayed over for the entire weekend, it was proving to be harder than you thought. But you huffed and puffed with each new article that got shoved into the shoulder bag until the room looked as if you’d never stepped foot in there. 

You’d already begun to calculate how many trips it would take to empty out the clothes from his dresser and toiletries from his bathroom. 

Logan still hadn’t said anything, his eyes widening by a fraction when he realised just how much you had erased from his space, but he stayed silent when your fingers hesitated against the door handle and didn’t dare to say anything when you turned back to him- eyes begging him to stop you, to cradle you in his arms and work it out. He ignored it all, looking through you and barely flinching when you shut the door harder than necessary. 

You adjusted your bag strap over your shoulder with careful hands, stilling when you realised everyone was staring at you as you emerged from the stairwell, “I’m heading home guys..” 

Your throat tightened but you shook your head and forced a smile onto your face, it felt plasticy and fake to force the expression over your eyebrows that tightened together and nose that burned with each deep breath you took. 

You added lightly, “I’ve got that test tomorrow anyway, and it’s probably better if I just- yeah. I’ll head back.”

Allie and Hannah both turned slightly, breaking out of the pitying trance when you grabbed your keys and headed for the door. 

Neither of them said anything at first, because there was a specific kind of silence that settles when two people are trying very hard to behave like nothing irreversible has happened only a floor above them.

“Okay,” Allie said finally, careful but not pushing, “Text us when you get in?”

You nodded quickly.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hannah’s eyes lingered on you a little longer, not interrogating, just observing, like she was storing away the way you were holding yourself more tightly than usual, the way Logan wasn’t following you to the door, barely letting you out of his hold with attacks of kisses and whispers in your ear. 

But neither of them asked.

Because to everyone else in the house, it still looked like something that could be explained away by stress and timing and too much noise and not enough food.

You said goodbye in a way that was deliberately light, stepping out with your usual version of composure stitched back together over something slightly less stable underneath it.

Back in the living room, the energy eventually returned in fragments, Logan had rejoined the group nearly an hour after the girls had left. 

Allie and Hannah left together not long after you, mumbled goodbyes were exchanged and worried whispers about Logan along with promises to update them over text had gotten them out the door, and back to you .

And once the door closed behind them, the house settled into a quieter version of itself.

Dean was the first to fully break the tension, dropping onto the couch with the kind of exaggerated movement that only made sense when someone was actively trying to remind a room how normal they were allowed to be. Tucker followed soon after, already halfway into a joke about how “Briar parties are medically unsafe environments” that no one really responded to but still helped reset the tone anyway.

Logan stayed silent for a moment too long in the doorway before eventually sitting down on the arm of the couch, not fully joining the group, just occupying space near it without integrating into it. The others kept talking for a while, but their volume softened slightly in the way it does when people unconsciously recognise that something heavier is still present in the room.

Eventually, Dean stretched and yawned in an overly theatrical way.

“Right,” he said, pushing himself up. “I’m calling it before I start thinking about my own mortality again.”

Tucker followed immediately, clapping Logan on the shoulder on his way past like nothing meaningful had just been discussed at all. “Don’t overthink it, man,” he added lightly, already heading upstairs. “She’s been doing that since high school apparently. She’s fine.”

Garrett didn’t follow them right away.

Logan just exhaled once, slow, like something had tightened in his chest at the phrasing.

Once the footsteps disappeared upstairs and the house settled properly, Garrett stayed behind in the spot next to Logan, leaning against the couch and pretended not to be boring holes into the side of his best friend's face. Logan was still on the arm, staring somewhere that wasn’t really the room.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

“I can’t imagine it,” Garrett broke the silence, voice quieter now, stripped of the earlier group energy, “loving someone and knowing that at any point they might just not respond.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly at that, but he didn’t interrupt.

Garrett looked down at his hands briefly before continuing, “I know everyone’s saying she’s used to it and it’s normal for her or whatever, but… that’s not really the part that sticks, is it?”

That landed differently.

Logan looked down finally, his hands loosely clasped together, and when he spoke his voice came out lower than before, less controlled in the way it had been earlier.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, and there was no performance left in it now, no attempt to hold anything in place. “I love her so much it actually hurts, and I can’t… I can’t keep doing that thing where I pretend I’m okay when she’s-”

He stopped. Swallowed slightly and pressed his fingers to his eyes. Logan exhaled again, slower this time, like the words were physically difficult to keep forming.

“But I also can’t go on like this,” he finished, quieter.

That silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable in the way earlier ones had been. It was just heavy with the absence of an answer. Garrett nodded once, slowly, like he understood that there wasn’t a clean solution sitting anywhere in reach.

“I think,” Garrett said carefully after a moment, choosing each word like he was placing it somewhere fragile, “it might actually be harder to let her go than it is to keep reminding yourself she wakes up every time.”

Logan turned to Garrett, and nodded slowly- a row of tears fell from his chin and onto the soft cashmere beneath him, “I just don’t know how many times I can do it.”

Fiyero didn’t immediately respond to your comment, instead gazing down at your hands - with a jolt, you realized that he was still holding your hand in his, and that realization caused your cheeks to flush again, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to take your hand out of his grasp just yet - with a pensive expression. The silence between you stretched on, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable, didn’t pressure you to break it by saying something. Instead, you welcomed it - you’d had a long day full of lectures and rants about Galinda and her various irritating habits, and the ease and familiarity between you and Fiyero really calmed you.

You chanced another glance at Fiyero who still appeared to be deep in thought, his brows drawn together in concentration. Your eyes greedily wandered over his features, taking everything in - his soft, brown eyes, the short, light brown hair, his sharp jawline.

He really was incredibly handsome - way too much for his own good, you thought, recalling with a sudden hot, uncomfortable feeling, the numerous flirtations he’d had since you’d known him.

You had met the Prince of Winkieland almost three years ago, when you’d been visiting your older sister at University. Fiyero had been attending the same university back then, and you’d met when your sister had been showing you around the campus. You’d been so taken aback, so awed by what you saw, you hadn’t really payed attention to where you were going anymore - until you’d collided with Fiyero.

Fiyero, of course, had reacted with his usual flirtatious charm, until your sister had butted in with a few very pointed comments about how you wouldn’t be attending University until next year and wasn’t Fiyero supposed to be on his way to a date with one of his classmates?

You’d rolled your eyes at her - really, you were only two years younger than him, what was the big deal? - and Fiyero had laughed at your reaction, shooting you a smile that somehow had your heart pounding faster and blood rushing to your cheeks. Your sister, who’d sensed that you were succumbing to his charm, had grabbed your arm and dragged you away.

When Fiyero had called your name, your sister only rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. „See you around, then!“, Fiyero called after you, and though your sister was in quite a grumpy mood, you weren't able to fight back the smile that tugged at your lips.

You did see him around, later - during your visit you somehow kept running into him, which greatly annoyed your sister, but secretly pleased you quite a bit. Though you supposed that your sister was right when saying that he could be quite arrogant and air-headed, he was also extremely charming and a surprisingly good listener.

At the end of your visit, you ended up exchanging addresses and just a few days after you’d arrived back home, you’d received your first letter from Fiyero.

Since then, you’d kept in touch via various letters - there were times, when you were sending each other up to three or four letters a week -, and of course you reunited whenever you visited your sister again.

Over time, she grew less hostile towards Fiyero - which, you suspected, had a lot to do with him reducing his flirtatious, suggestive comments to a minimum whenever she was around -, though she continued to warn you not to fall under his spell, seeing how she didn’t want to see her little sister get her heart broken by the rather infamous Winkie prince.

Whenever she brought this particular subject up, you just rolled your eyes, assuring her that there was no danger of this happening. You liked Fiyero, but just as a friend. Of course, he was incredibly good-looking and charming, and sometimes his affectionate ways caused you to flush, becoming flustered, when he suddenly grabbed your hand or tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but he was your best friend and you didn’t see him as anything more than that.

And if there were instances in which you wondered, questioning whether you truly saw him as just a friend - well, you weren’t about to tell your sister that, were you?

„ … well, maybe there is something we could do …“

You didn’t immediately register his words and it took until Fiyero had squeezed your hand again for you to snap out of your thoughts.

„Still with me, darling?“, Fiyero asked you with a concerned expression.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush. „Y-yes, sorry, I … you were saying that there was maybe something we could do? About Elphaba and Galinda?“

For a moment, Fiyero seemed as confused as you felt, and when you tried to look at him, he averted his gaze, looking down at your hands - somehow, him holding your hand felt dangerously familiar yet weirdly new and unusual at once - instead.

„Yes, I - it’s just an idea …“, he trailed off, clearing his throat, his eyes flitting over to you - and was it just your imagination or were his cheeks turning rather pink? -, before he continued. „I feel like we should get them to spend more time together-„

You raised your brow in confusion. „I don’t see how that would help the situation, given that they hate each other’s guts-“

„Well, yes - but what if they don’t, not really?“, Fiyero interrupted you, sounding confident once more.

You frowned. „I’m not sure I’m still following you …“

Fiyero laughed quietly, the sound so warm and familiar, you couldn’t help but smile yourself, even though you were still confused.

„Now, this is just a hunch, but I don’t think they actually hate each other … sure, they don’t particularly like each other, but I think that’s more to do with them maybe seeing something in the other they recognize in themselves, something they don’t particularly want to see - or maybe, they’re seeing each other much more clearly than they each would like, and instead of actually dealing with that, they’re just, you know …“

„Antagonizing each other …“, you finished his sentence, nodding. Now that you thought about it, what Fiyero had just said did make sense.

„Exactly, trying to shatter the mirror that way …“, Fiyero said, his eyes finding yours.

„And so your plan is to what - force them together, until they’ve worked through all that?“, you asked, disbelief and doubt creeping into your voice.

Fiyero shrugged. „Well, if you put it like that …“

„Sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to work … Elphaba would probably much rather than die than willingly spend more time with Galinda than is absolutely necessary …“

Fiyero just grinned. Somehow, your doubts didn’t seem to face him at all. „Which is exactly why we’re not going to tell them that they’re going to spend time with each other.“ Seeing your confused expression, he quickly hurried on explaining. „We make it look like a group activity, tell them that there's this ocktail bar in town we want to try out, our something like that ... trust me, we'll figure something out!"

„Brillant“, you said dryly. Fiyero didn’t immediately catch on to your sarcasm. Once you continued, however, his grin froze. „And which one of us is going to organize our double funeral?“

„Funeral, what-“

„Fiyero, once they realize that we tricked them like that, they’re going to want to kill us! At least Elphaba will, and I’m pretty sure Galinda will feel the same way.“

„Well, at least then they’ll have something to bond over“, Fiyero said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You looked over at him. You saw the grin tugging at the corners of his lips, and somehow, you couldn’t keep it in anymore - you started laughing, shaking your head. Soon, you were both laughing hard, completely lost in your own world.

„This is madness“, you said, voice still breathless, once you’d calmed down again. „Even if they do fall for it - which I doubt they will - they’ll be furious once they realize what’s going on.“

„So we’ll just fake a family emergency or something, I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something“, Fiyero replied, shrugging.

You shook your head. „So you really want to go through with that?“

„Well, got any better ideas?“

„No“, you admitted, sighing.

„Hey“, Fiyero said, squeezing your hand, „it’s going to work. And if it doesn’t - well, I’m sure you’ll come up with a fitting, tragic engraving for our double tombstone.“

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. „How reassuring.“

The next two days passed you by in a blur.

Elphaba continued to rant about Galinda - as did Galinda about Elphaba as Fiyero assured you with a tired, pained smile, when you two met up once again in the common room the following evening - and Fiyero and you continued to work out the details of your plan to get Elphaba and Galinda to spend more time together. Well, it was mostly Fiyero who did the planning, seeing as you were still quite convinced that this whole scheme was going to fall apart the minute Elphaba and Galinda realized they’d been tricked.

Your doubts didn’t seem to faze Fiyero in the slightest. Actually, it seemed that the more vocal you became in voicing your concerns, the more determined to see this through to the end - and see it through successfully - Fiyero became.

Not even Elphaba’s irritated expression, when he cornered you and her after dinner the following evening, seemed to intimidate him, which, you had to admit grudgingly, was a feat in and of itself. Because while you liked Elphaba very much - when she wasn’t using her breath on venting about Galinda that was - and valued her friendship, she could be quite intimidating.

If she’d looked at you the way she was currently looking at Fiyero, you were sure that you’d have already crumbled.

As it was, Fiyero merely shrugged, smirking, when she said, her voice dripping with irritation: „And why in Oz’s name would you do that?“ (Fiyero had just announced that he wanted to invite you two for dinner in a fancy restaurant in town the next evening.)

„Because I want to spend some time with my best friend’s other friends - get to know them myself, you know“, he said, an easy smile on his face, as he walked closer to you and slid an arm around your waist, the gesture so casual, so natural, almost as if it was something he did all the time.

It wasn’t. Because while Fiyero had always been extremely affectionate and not even your sister’s irritated glare when he’d casually grab your hand and lace your fingers together or gently touch your arm to get your attention could discern him, he usually didn’t do something like this.

This felt new and dangerous and - you liked it.

You liked being this close to Fiyero, feeling his body right next to yours, heat radiating off him, even though it caused your heart to start beating frantically in your chest, your palms to sweat and your cheeks to flush.

Sweet Oz, what was happening to you?

Because this really wasn’t the moment for you to be this flustered and confused by Fiyero’s shenanigans, not when Elphaba’s irritated, hostile glare was still fixed on him.

„I see“, Elphaba said dryly, her tone clearly indicating that she didn’t understand at all and that she wasn’t very interested in hearing more.

„I mean - I already know you’re great, I’ve heard so much about you, but I thought that we two should get to know each other as well, get to spend some time together, if you know what I mean.

At this, he actually winked at Elphaba.

Elphaba was having none of it though, raising her eyebrows pointedly. „And what if I happen to not share that sentiment?“

„Well, then I’d be very disappointed“, Fiyero said, shaking his head. „I mean, I was quite looking forward to discussing Dr. Clover’s lecture over dinner with you - I happen to admire his work as well -, but no can do, I guess …“

„You want to go to Dr. Clover’s lecture with us?“, Elphaba said, the surprise in her voice mirroring your own. You hadn’t heard of this particular aspect of Fiyero’s plan yet, and his satisfied smirk told you that he knew - or at least thought so - he’d won Elphaba over.

Fiyero shrugged. „I planned to go alone, at first, but then I thought of you two, thinking that maybe we could go to his lecture first and then maybe go for a drink somewhere in town …“

„You actually got more than one ticket for his lecture?“, Elphaba asked and you could hear the begrudging admiration in her voice.

You were impressed yourself - Dr. Clover, an owl professor, was a highly renowned academic, her books on astrophysics held in high regard, and her rare public lectures were almost always sold out immediately.

Fiyero smirked. „I have my ways …“

Elphaba just rolled her eyes, shaking her head. „Fine, I’ll think about it …“

And with that, she walked off - not before giving you a look that told you that you had a lot of explaining to do.

You sighed, turning around to face Fiyero, your breath hitching when you realized how close you two were, seeing as he still had his arm around your waist.

„Well, I think that went rather well, didn’t it?“, he asked you, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. „You can be so full of yourself, you know that, right?“

Fiyero just shrugged, smirking, ignoring your comment. Nothing new there. „The Dr. Clover card was a stroke of genius though, wasn’t it?“

You sighed, nodding. „Yes …“

„You sound so uncertain …“, he said, grinning, his grip on your waist tightening.

You gulped, feeling your cheeks heat up once again. By now, you probably looked like an overly ripe tomato. Not exactly a very pleasant sight, though either Fiyero didn’t notice or his flirtatious charm was entirely immune to people blushing furiously like overripe tomatoes.

„No, I just - how’d you come up with that?“

Fiyero smiled, apparently very pleased that you’d brought up this particular question. „Funny you should ask, like you’re not always raving about her books and newspaper columns and all that …“

„I’m not raving - wait, you actually remember that?“, you asked, your heart pounding fast in your chest when Fiyero’s chocolate brown eyes found yours.

He held your gaze, smiling. And either you were so overcome by his sudden closeness that you were starting to imagine things or it was a trick of the light, because surely Fiyero Tigelaar of all people didn’t blush? But no matter the cause, his cheeks were turning rather pink.

„I … yeah … I mean, you really like her and so I - I thought I’d, you know, check out her writing as well, and turns out she’s holding a lecture in town tomorrow evening …“

Fiyero ran his free hand through his hair, his gaze for a moment seemingly fixed on something far away, before his eyes found yours again, and his easy, charming smile was back in place. „I mean - it fits in perfectly with our plan, doesn’t it?“

You nodded. „Y-yes, it does …“

Sweet Oz, you were having severe trouble stringing together coherent thoughts with him still being so close to you, his hand still settled on your waist, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

„I’d say that so far it’s all working out rather well, isn’t it?“

„Huh?“, was the only thing you were able so say, seeing as you were still entirely too distracted.

Fiyero laughed, the sound warm and bright and achingly familiar. „The plan, love.“

„Right, right, the plan …“ You stuttered, trying to swallow down the sudden, bitter pang of disappointment and forcing a smile onto your face again, not giving Fiyero the chance to say anything in reply. „Though it’s not like we already got them to spend time together, so you really shouldn’t feel so gleeful just yet, you haven’t even asked Galinda about tomorrow evening yet!“

Fiyero just chuckled, waving aside your concern. „Leave the worrying to me, darling, I know exactly how to go about asking her.“

You nodded faintly, your thoughts only partly fixated on his schemes - or at least on the parts of the schemes actually involving Galinda and Elphaba …

„Right …“

Though Fiyero had told you to leave the worrying to him, you found yourself worrying a lot about all the things that could go wrong - which there were a surprising amount you could think of - over the next day.

Elphaba’s increasingly irritated questions didn’t help to soothe your already incredibly frayed nerves in the slightest.

„It’s not that I’m not thrilled that I get a chance to go to Dr. Clover’s lecture, because I am, but why is Tigelaar springing this whole ‚I want to get to know my best friend’s friends'- stuff on me now?“, she grilled you on the way between classes.

You sighed, your grip on the textbooks your were carrying tightening until your knuckles whitened. Somehow, Elphaba’s insistence on calling Fiyero by his last name irked you almost as much as her constant venting about Galinda.

You opened your mouth to say something in Fiyero’s defense - though, truthfully Elphaba did have a point there -, but Elphaba didn’t even give you the chance to say anything, already ploughing on.

„It’s just rather sudden, isn’t it? And I know that you like him - though I can’t say that I can truly comprehend that fact -, but then he also spends an awful amount of time with Galinda and her posse …“

You sighed. There it was - Galinda’s name.

It seemed that lately, Elphaba always found a way to somehow throw the topic of Galinda and the awfulness of her character into every single conversation you two had, and at this point, you were frankly just exhausted. However far-fetched Fiyero’s theory about Elphaba and Galinda not truly hating one another might seem to you, and no matter how many doubts you had about this plan of his actually succeeding, at this point you were just glad that he even had a plan that might somehow dissolve the animosity between them at all.

„ - so I’m not too sure that Tigelaar is really the best judge of character there - hey, you’re daydreaming about Tigelaar again instead of listening to me, aren’t you?“

Elphaba’s words drew you out of your thoughts and immediately, you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. Which was of course completely ridiculous, because there was simply no reason for you to blush. No, none at all.

„No, I’m not daydreaming about-“, you tried to defend yourself - your cheeks were burning and your palms were starting to sweat -, but Elphaba was going on.

„Really? I saw the way you looked at him yesterday - I mean, I see the way you look at him all the time“, she said dryly, laughing, when you frantically shook your head. Somehow, this course the conversation was taking was worse than before, even though just a few moments ago you’d have given anything to get off the topic of Galinda.

„Wha- no, I’m not - I“, you stammered, scoffing entirely unconvincingly, which only led to Elphaba quirking her brow at you, „what- I mean- how am I looking at him?“

Elphaba laughed dryly. „Like he hung the stars in the sky.“

„What, no- I- I … that’s not how I look at Fiyero!“, you stammered, even though your flushed face and the crack in your voice probably didn’t exactly help in trying to get your point across.

Elphaba chuckled. „No, it’s not that bad - yet - but you can’t deny that you clearly like Tigelaar.“

„I - would you please stop calling him Tigelaar?“, you said, stalling.

Elphaba ignored your reply, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking at you pointedly. „So you do like him, then.“

„I-“, you started to say, but you were distracted when, suddenly, Elphaba’s whole expression changed - her dry, knowing smile turned into a bitter scowl and the open, friendly expression in her eyes was replaced by a furious glare. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who had just walked into the hallway. After all, there was only one person that could elicit this kind of reaction from Elphaba.

And sure enough, only seconds later, you could hear Galinda chattering away in her high, affected voice.

"- it's just so rather thrillingly wonderful, isn't it? Fiyero's agreed to show me a few places in town, I'm just absolutely thrillified!"

You froze, your eyes widening. Fiyero had told you to leave the worrying to him, but what if Galinda, of all people, was going to blow your cover now? Oh, you were going to kill Fiyero.

„- but he said he didn’t have time for going down to the Ozdust tonight, which is all rather unfortunate, I was so looking forward going out with him …“

Galinda trailed off and a member of her posse - Elphaba’s resentment towards Galinda was really starting to get to you, too, if you were starting to think of Galinda’s friends as her posse as well, but still, for the life of you you couldn’t recall the girl’s name in that moment. Which probably had a lot to do with a sudden, bitter feeling coursing through your veins, which felt an awful lot like jealousy.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

There was no reason for you to be jealous - you already knew that Fiyero planned on going to the Ozdust with Galinda and some other people next Friday. He’d asked you to come as well, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t known about his friendship with Galinda.

So really, there was no reason for you to suddenly feel so jealous - you and Fiyero were just friends, after all.

He was your best friend.

Friendship.

That’s all there was, all you felt for him.

So why was it suddenly so hard for you to swallow down this bitter, irrational flare of jealousy?

„ - but anyways, I’ll have the Ozdust to look forward to, I’m sure that it’s going to be absolutely scandalacious!“ Galinda continued, giggling and when you looked at Elphaba, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in resentment, you felt that you’d never been more able to relate to her dislike for Galinda - just for a short, fleeting moment, but the thought was there nonetheless, and you bit down hard on your lip, immediately feeling bad.

„Come on“, Elphaba muttered, grabbing your hand, „let’s just get to class.“

You nodded, following her.

Once you’d rounded the next corner, Elphaba let out frustrated sigh, shaking her head. „By Oz … does she have to make everything about herself? It’s like she thinks the world’s going to stop turning if the conversation doesn’t revolve about the thrillifying Galinda Upland …“

You just nodded, still lost in thought.

For once you were glad that Elphaba could seemingly vent about Galinda whenever, wherever. It wasn’t exactly a good foreboding for tonight, sure.

But at least it kept her from asking you more questions about Fiyero and your feelings for him - not that there were any feelings worth talking about, you tried to convince yourself for what seemed like the umpteenth time these last few days -, which was all the better for it.

You were already confused enough as it was.

„How do I look?“, Fiyero asked you, not even turning around, grinning at himself in the mirror instead.

You rolled your eyes, while trying to fight off the blush threatening to color your cheeks. Not that Fiyero was likely to notice, if he continued to stare at himself - though admire was probably a better word for it - in the mirror.

„Good, and you know it“, you said dryly, shaking your head. „Now can you please get a move on? We’re already running the risk of being late-“

„And Elphaba is very punctual, she doesn’t like to be kept waiting - I know“, Fiyero finished your sentence for you, finally turning around, his chocolate brown eyes finding yours.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, trying to cover up your surprise. And the dopey, love-sick smile you apparently couldn’t shake off whenever you were so much as just glancing in Fiyero’s direction - according to Elphaba, at least. Which you’d vehemently tried to deny, when she had pointed it out to you earlier that afternoon, but once Elphaba had made up her mind about something, she wasn’t likely to change her opinion about it, as you’d witnessed first-hand these last few days.

You grimaced, remembering the conversation she’d roped you into after class. You’d been taken by surprise, thinking that after that whole hallway incident with Galinda, she might have forgotten, or at least dropped the subject, which was very much not the case as it become apparent over lunchtime during which Elphaba wouldn’t stop grilling you about Fiyero, your friendship with him and other feelings you were supposedly feeling towards him.

She reminded you a lot of your sister, in that regard. Once your sister had finally come around and begrudgingly accepted your friendship with Fiyero, she’d also started insinuating that there might be more than just friendship between Fiyero and you, completely disregarding your many vehement protests.

You rolled your eyes. Her and Elphaba would probably get along splendidly, you just knew it.

„What’s with the eye roll, darling?“, Fiyero asked you.

Your breath hitched. You’d been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed him finally disregard the mirror and walk over towards you. And now he was suddenly so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

Your heart started beating faster, and you had to clamp your hands into fists behind your back to keep from reaching up and brushing that stray strand of brown hair out of his face.

„You seem nervous, darling“, Fiyero said, his voice soft and low.

You nearly jumped. „W-what?“

Fiyero chuckled, but his eyes narrowed with concern. „You’re nervous .. you probably don’t think that the plan is going to work out, do you?“

„I …“

„Well, there’s no need to be worried, because I’ve got it all figured out“, he said, rather self-importantly. When you rolled your eyes at his words, it was almost as if it was a reflex, because while Fiyero’s proximity and the intensity in his brown eyes were still making your heart race in your chest and your throat suddenly felt incredibly dry, rolling your eyes at something he said still came to you like second nature.

„Great.“

You winced - you’d been aiming for dry and sarcastic, instead your voice just sounded strained.

His eyes softened. „Trust me, there’s no need to worry, things will work out … well, and if they don’t, I’ve finally decided on the engraving for our double tobstone.“

You laughed dryly, shaking your head. „Well, that’s reassuring.“

He smirked. „Told you - thought of everything.“

„You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that, right?“

Fiyero just grinned, before reaching for your hand - suddenly you felt as if there was a whole horde of butterflies flying around wildly in your stomach. „I know I’m incredible, but now we should really get going - I mean, I’m always one for being fashionably late, but as Elphaba values punctuality so much …“

„Right, that …“, you nodded, trying to focus your thoughts on the task at hand and not on the fact that he was still holding your hand, tugging you along until you’d reached the door of his dorm room. „So, we’ll go to the lecture with Elphaba-“

„- then I’ll convince her to go for a drink to the Ozcloud with us, where we’ll meet Galinda, whom I’ve invited for drinks at the Ozcloud just an hour ago. Elphaba will have been in the library the whole afternoon, because she can’t stand spending much more time in her room than is absolutely necessary, so the chances of her having heard of Galinda’s plans for later tonight are very slim, but if by the off-chance that she has heard of it, it won’t be hard for us to find that particular fact out. Should that be the case I just won’t tell her where we’re going for drinks … am I forgetting anything …“

Fiyero trailed off, grinning when he saw your wide eyes. He really had thought this whole thing through - well, at least the set-up of it. As for the actual moment both Elphaba and Galinda realized that they’d been played you still weren’t convinced that they wouldn’t just try to kill each other right then and there, but that was a problem for later, you decided.

„ - yes … Elphaba will likely take some convincing, regardless of whether she knows about Galinda going to the Ozcloud or not … but luckily for us, I can be very convincing …“

„Sure, if by convincing you mean talking so long and fast that people eventually will stop listening …“, you said, laughing, when you saw him scowling.

„Well, it still works, doesn’t it?“, he replied in a mock-offended tone.

„Sure.“

„Darlin’, you don’t need to sound that sarcastic to get your point across.“

You just laughed, even though the way he’d called you darlin - his voice all soft, his brown eyes finding yours even as you were racing through the corridors - still lingered in your mind, making your heart beat faster.

„Well, with you it’s better to be certain isn’t it?“, you played along, even though his grip on your hand tightening suddenly made it very hard for you to focus on anything but the soft look in his eyes.

„Now, what’s that supposed to mean?“

You just shrugged, intending to play it cool, but when you saw the way Fiyero was trying to fight off a smile, you couldn’t help but laugh. For a moment, Fiyero just looked at you, shaking his head, but then he joined in your laughter, the sound soft, warming your heart.

The whole rest of the way through corridors and down several staircases, until you finally arrived at the entrance hall of the library, where you’d promised to pick Elphaba up, neither of you two was able to contain your laughter. With Fiyero, it always was like this. Not simply because his laugh - the real, genuine one, not the overly confident chuckle he so often displayed and you’d come to silently despise a bit - was downright infectious.

No, there was something else, something about the shimmer of amusement in his eyes, the soft smile on his lips that made you want to keep making him laughing.

Just then, you rounded the corner to the library’s entrance hall, nearly running into a statue. Fiyero’s arms were around you in an instant, though, drawing you back just in time.

„Careful there, darlin’“, he murmured. He was so close to you, his chest pressed against your back, his lips just above your ear. You couldn’t suppress a shiver, closing your eyes for a moment and trying to regain your composure.

„I, uh - thanks for catching me“, you whispered, turning around to face Fiyero.

His eyes immediately found yours. Suddenly you were glad that he was still holding you in his arms, because the look in his eyes instantly turned your knees into jelly.

Your breath hitched, and you noticed the way Fiyero’s eyes flickered towards your lips, before meeting yours again.

You found yourself leaning towards him, even closer until you were so close that you felt his warm breath on your skin - was it just your imagination or did his breathing suddenly sound incredibly heavy and strained as well? - he was so close to you, it was making your head spin-

Just then, someone cleared their throat loudly.

Your eyes widened and you jumped away from Fiyero.

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even have to look up to know Elphaba was standing there.

And sure enough, after you’d scrounged up the courage to look back up, your eyes landed on Elphaba, who was looking at you with an incredibly smug, self-satisfied expression on her face. She only needed to quirk her eyebrows in a ‚See? I told you‘-fashion for you to flush.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying your hardest not to look over at Fiyero, even though you could feel his gaze hard and heavy on you.

You knew, then, that no matter what would happen tonight, no matter what went down between Elphaba and Galinda once the second part of Fiyero’s plan was finally set in motion, Elphaba would never let you hear the end of your supposed feelings for Fiyero.

Though - what if, maybe, just maybe, there was a kernel of truth to her teasing remarks that afternoon?

Maybe there was something there between you and Fiyero, something … more.

Something that you hadn’t seen, hadn’t realized, before.

Something more than just friendship, something more akin to the way you felt drawn to him, almost magnetic, like he was your anchor, always keeping you afloat.

„Ah, Elphaba!“

Fiyero’s voice - that sounded far too bright and cheerful, causing you to wince and Elphaba to cross her arms in front of her chest, raising her eyebrows at him - drew you out of your thoughts. His arms were still on your hips, and when you finally scrounged up the courage to look up at Elphaba again, your cheeks were burning. Elphaba’s knowing smirk confirmed your suspicions that, at this point, you were looking like an overly ripe tomato.

„Punctual as always, shall we get going then?“, Fiyero said, his hands finally leaving your waist.

Though Fiyero tried to catch your gaze, you determinedly averted your eyes, pressing your lips together and walking over towards where Elphaba was standing.

„Let’s go then, we don’t want to be late“, was all you said, as you followed Elphaba out of the library entrance hall, your cheeks burning and your mind spinning the whole way to the small lecture hall.

It didn’t help that Fiyero’s eyes kept finding yours, his gaze burning on your skin. When your shoulders brushed, you nearly jumped.

You did to your best to ignore the pointed look Elphaba gave you then, offering Fiyero a shaky, uncertain smile, before turning away from him again, pressing your lips together.

Sweet Oz, you couldn’t wait for this evening to finally be over.

And yet, you knew that that was a lie - even though the way your heart seemed to beat faster when you sat down next to Fiyero in the lecture hall absolutely terrified you, the soft, reassuring smile on his lips seemed to calm your nerves in an instant.

„You alright there, darling? You seem a bit peaky“, he whispered, leaning closer towards you.

You nodded. „Y-yes, just - nervous, I guess …“

„Hey“, Fiyero whispered, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, „it’s all going to work out just fine, trust me.“

You just nodded, hoping that he was right.

Everything would work out just fine, you tried to tell yourself.

But as the lecture began, and you felt Fiyero trying to catch your gaze again after a particular remark that Dr. Clover made, you couldn’t help but notice Elphaba’s satisfied smile as well.

Everything would work out just fine, you repeated to yourself, your heart starting to beat faster when Fiyero flashed you a soft smile.

Everything would work out just fine.

And, hopefully, not just between Galinda and Elphaba.

it's finally here!! I'm so sorry for the long wait, hopefully some of you will still care to read this even after it's been nearly a month since i first announced this fic! hopefully it won't take me as long to get around to writing and finishing part II!