empire line.

at any sidewalk near any bar on APRIL 19TH. around eight in the evening.

closed starter for rory hirsch — @roryhirsch.

Feet wavered as she attempted to take another step forward.

Hours had spilled into days that had spilled into a week since the day her life had been altered for good.

There were two clear paths she could have chosen from: dealing or denial. It had been exactly seven days since she had chosen the latter. It had been seven days since her phone had last seen a charger and it didn’t need a genius to know that Lydia did not want to be found.

As alcohol had, once again, filled her mind for the past hours, clouding any chance of intelligent conversation, Lydia had wondered if her newfound habit made her closer to the man she had always thought to be her father. She was overly certain that among the many missed calls she would have once she turned her phone back on, most would be from the hospital. The man was dying. She had left the man dying.

It was hard to care right now.

Between a foot and another, her apologies were slurred when her body met others. She had came out of the bar to breathe, but now she wanted to go back. The more sober she got, the more her mind gave her space for inconspicuous thoughts. She didn’t need them. However, as soon as she was about to step inside, the bouncer stepped in front of her and she frowned.

“Let me in,” her voice dragged as she poked the bouncer’s chest or maybe his belly. Was that even the bouncer? She attempted to look up but was met with dizziness. “Come on dude, let me in. Where the hell am I supposed to spend my money, hm?” The blonde argued and made absolutely no sense of anything, but at the dismissal, she sighed, walking backwards with more slurred apologies.

She was tired. Exhaustion met her bones and her legs begged her for some reprieve. Without a second thought, Lydia found a bus stop and took a seat on the shielded structure, resting her head back as her eyes closed despite her need to stay awake, darkness was soon to consume her without a shame of whoever was around.

-

It was beginning to feel like a chilly evening. What a wrong time to pick out a sweater of thin fabric, Rory thinks, as he put his hands into his pockets of his jeans at a desperate bid for warmth. He could have made a healthy excursion out of the walk back to his and Ava’s apartment, but after a night celebrating a birthday with an old college pal, executed at a bar no less, his energy has become far too depleted to walk any more than a few steps.

So, as the party died down, Rory instead elected to wait for the last bus ride home, having glanced at his watch and realizing it shouldn’t be too late to make the final transport rounds. He’s leaning against the pole sign when he comes across a curious sight of one Lydia Beckett dragging her legs — walking had seemed a far generous term to what she was doing — towards the bus seats. His eyes are immediately drawn to the woman’s unusual disposition, and when the image clicks in his head, it graduates from a curious sight to cause for concern.  

Looking at Lydia, groggy and seated back, has painted a scene far too familiar to him in large part because he’d lived it himself. He certainly can’t turn back now. With a sharp, pointed exhale, he makes his way towards the bus stop, hoping that his suspicions are proven false, that it had been a trick of his own unquiet mind.

Yet when he stops at a respectable distance and takes a closer at Lydia one final time, his suspicions are instead confirmed. She’s far more drunk than her body allows, and certainly no good thing can come if she had elected to sleep in this degree of drunkenness. “Lydia?” He asks, hesitating a little before he places a hand on her shoulder. “Wake up, Lyd. It’s Rory.” When she doesn’t issue a response, Rory shakes her shoulder slightly and hopes that his voice does not reflect the alarm now rising through his chest. Trying to ease his own anxiety, he deflects with some humor, “Think of the back pain.”  

The feeling of listening to him describe the progression in his relationship is not a new one.  It’s a tension that rides low within her, threatening to allow something like bitterness.  While she never thought she was completely innocent in their split, because that’s not how those things ever work unless someone is delusional, this feels unfair.  Ultimately, he left.  Ultimately, he was not the partner she needed while she was busy being crushed.  While she doesn’t explicitly wish him harm, and she recognizes how far he’s come after mistakes and struggles she was only peripherally privy to, it still makes her feel a little off.  She never shied away from responsibilities, never took a break, never legitimately walked away.  Why does he get these pieces of happiness now, and yet they elude her?  Why do his errant, poor choices lead to a new stability, while she still feels more unsettled than ever? 

None of these thoughts are new, though, so she can focus on his manner, always a little jittery and unsure.  She used to think it was part of his charm.  When she feels generous, she’d still say it is, but that isn’t in this moment.  

“Not eventually, Rory,” is what comes out of her mouth.  There is no point in saying anything about the progression of his relationship.  She’s seen him with Ava, and she knows they’re a good match and he’s probably happier than he’s ever been now.  No matter what she thinks about fair or unfair, there were never any guarantees their individual afters would come at the same time or in the same shape.  Not to mention, other than how it might affect Adam, it’s none of her business. She can, and must, however, advocate for their son.  “You need to tell him as soon as you can and include him in the process.  We moved here so he could be a part of your life, and that’s every day – not eventually.  And if you’re getting another place, I would suggest giving him his own room, not a ‘guest bedroom.’  He’s not a guest – he’s your son.  He should feel like he belongs in your life.  And if he doesn’t, if he’s an occasional thought, you need to tell me that now before I make any other drastic changes to my life for you.”

-

The weight of his own words don’t strike him until Rachel places them into the open. Rory grows silent at that, pursing his lips together as he marinates on the bitter implications of his reckless wordplay. At some point, his brain might have decided to speak, because he tilts his head up and opens his mouth without thinking, as if it were beginning their instinctual measure of defense. “That’s not —” Rationality catches up some moments later, however, and blessedly forces his lips shut. 

Because the truth of the matter is he doesn’t have a defense for his words. Rory corrects his own line of thinking seconds later; he shouldn’t be thinking in defensive terms at all. To do so would imply that the blame should not be placed on him. Yet it is precisely his profound disengagement that has gotten them here in the first place, avoiding the bridges he’d burned in his troubled days that he had kept everyone at a distance altogether. Somewhere, along the way, he’d forgotten to include Adam into the equation. By extension, he supposed, he had forgotten to include Rachel along his plans, too. 

Was it love? And if it had been, had he been old enough to understand its consequences? No matter. Whichever it was, he knows he is clearly in the wrong. He had a duty to fulfill as a husband and as a father, and he failed, rather miserably, on both accounts. It would be foolish, not to mention selfish, to still be making these mistakes, deliberately or otherwise.  

He expels a deep breath. “You’re right,” he acquiesces, leaning forward and folding his hands together. “That was careless of me to say. It shouldn’t have to be like that.” A wave of remorse sweeps across him, realizing the consequences of his departure all this time. For a moment, he wonders whether Adam would ever be able to rush up to him again to be swept up in his arms. The downsides of a clear, sober mind is that it forces him to think. The even worse downside is that Rory already knows his answer. “I’ll make sure to find a place that caters for all three of us, not just me and Ava, alright? You shouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“The sacrifices you’ve made for Adam when I was —” There’s a lump in his throat as he grapples with his next words. “I don’t know how to repay you. Really.” He says, unnaturally serious, downcast. “You’re — how about you, then? Apart from Adam, you’ve been doing okay?”

ღ

House hunting ought to be a daunting process, although Ava didn’t expect them to be riddled with questions — or rather, their buried issues to resurface on such occasion that, in some aspect, supposed to be joyous for both her and Rory. Sure, there came a level of uncertainty as they embarked on this early adventure today. Perhaps they came into all this unprepared, unsure what they were in search for. But her boyfriend was right. There was many things left unsaid between them, and the moment he finally brought it to light, made her stomach sank. 

It wasn’t as though Ava didn’t trust Rory — hell, if she would so bold say so, she would trust him with her life if the past year had proven anything. It was rather fitting that neither of them were great at expressing their thoughts and feelings with words, but through actions instead. The gentle touches to express their affections for one another, all the way to the sudden proposal months ago, all left unsaid, yet unforgotten at the same time. Their happy moments came scarcely, and when they did, she cherished them enough not to say anything else, afraid by the sudden turn of events could just ruin it all for them.

But Ava didn’t jump into disagreement the moment Rory’s words left hanging in the air between them, because she knew deep down, he was right. They talked enough everyday, over mindless topics but they never really talked. Even if they did, it only came at a time when everything was hanging by the thread — the realisation of it all caused her to tear her gaze away from Rory, falling to her shoes instead as she followed him outside of the threshold of this house. “We really make a pair, don’t we?” A breath slipped through her lips, the rush of fresh air eased the sudden heaviness in her chest. “I’ve never been too good with words — you know that, if the first time we were together told you anything.” 

Yet the memory alone seemed like an eternity ago, after all that happened last year. But before Ava could dwell on that thought any further, Rory’s remark brought a rush of sadness to come over her. “Rory,” Her brows furrowed, as she positioned herself in front of him, a hand reached up to gently caress the side of his cheek. “You’re not awful, I know you’ve been trying to make amends in the past year and that makes you better than most people out there. You deserve this just as much as anyone else. But you’re right, there’s a lot that we haven’t talked about, and I don’t even know where to begin.” 

But ultimately, at the mention of just how deserving they were of their happiness, Ava only felt like a hypocrite when her sentiment had been the same. Even after all this time. The revelation only cause her hand to drop to her sides, as she turned away from him. “But yeah, I feel like that all the damn time,” The admission alone caused her to take a deep breath, as she continued. “Sometimes I just want to hold on to these times when everything is going well and not let go, because I’m not even sure if I deserve it either. So I guess that’s why I just always avoid talking, because a part of me always I wonder what’s waiting for us next. Not that you could ever cause me any unhappiness, because I haven’t been so happy in such a long time. But still, last year haven’t exactly been easy for us, you know?” She gave him a sad smile, as she finally plucked up the courage to find his gaze again. “It sounds stupid, but I’m afraid that if we do talk about everything, the illusion of our happiness might just break for us.” 

-

At the mention of their first time together, Rory smiles, faint, solemn. It excites him, of course, to think that they’d been able to resuscitate their relationship, to experience all sorts of struggle in the time in between and yet to come back all the stronger for it. Still, there is no denying that both of them constantly kept their cards close to their chest, as is the byproduct of hardship.

And, Ava — Ava had experienced the worst of pain of all, one that battered her soul in more ways than one. Where his struggle is internal, a belated manifestation of his buried shame and regret from his brother’s death and then fully yielding to the phantoms of his past, hers has been inflicted by the man who was supposed to take care of her the most. Adding to the burden weighing against her heart is the last thing he’d ever wanted to commit. But his route of keeping everything secret himself has only led them here: dancing around each other, entrusting each other with warm hands and feather-light touches, yet keeping their lips bare of any horrid thing. 

Rory has to speak up. Hasn’t he learned, the first time around? 

So, he does just that. It does not come as a surprise to him that he would articulate his thoughts far too sloppily, his words an entangled mess of genuine sentiments through broken clauses, but Ava understands him clearly and makes quick moves to reassure him. They’ve mastered the art of touch by now, and as her hand grazes at his skin, the comfort it exudes is simple — and best of all familiar. But what surprises him is that Ava follows suit of his words, disclosing her own frustrations about their future, her gaze solemn though expectant. 

“Hey,” Rory stretches out his hand for hers to take, “You know it won’t come to that. I’m always here, and… well, I haven’t exactly been subtle about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, you know.” He deliberates before bringing the proposal up, searching her face for any sign of reproach. When he finds none, he takes a sharp inhale of breath and continues. “That’s what’s next. Because, this—” With his free hand, he gestures at the air between them, “—this is the only thing that makes damn sense.” 

It’s then he realizes they’ve been in the same boat all that time. Both he and Ava have treated their happiness as something that would inevitably break. This elicits a smile out of him, ironically enough; put that way, their shared sentiment cannot be further from the truth. Upon her admission, his chest feels lighter, like a rock has finally dislodged, clearing the water out of the way. Or sitting in a pool of darkness before the sun casts against it, only to reveal a clear spring. 

If there’s anything the ring box he’s been carrying in his pocket all this time should signify, it’s that his love is the furthest thing from fragile. “So talk to me.”

WHO: @roryhirsch LOCATION: a skate park in avalon  DATE AND TIME: april 18, morning

Even though she had publicly disappeared from social media over the last almost two years, Olivia had made a quiet appearance back on Instagram for the sole purpose of running a plant mom account. The community that had blossomed (did you see what she did there) from it had been one of the precious things in her life since moving to Catalina. In fact, she’d made a friend out of another self-proclaimed plant dad that lived on the island, something that she was quite pleased with herself for doing. New friends and new interactions naturally lead to her deciding that maybe new experiences would be the thing she’d push herself to do this year. What had happened to the daring young woman before 2019? It was that thought that carried her towards a skate park in Avalon with a skateboard in hand and a helmet on her head. But what had started out as feelings of excitement quickly turns into a nervousness in the pit of her stomach. What if she hurt herself? What if she accidentally hurt Rory? Before she can consider heading home though or cancelling on him, she’s there. And she knows that leaving now without actually trying would only make her feel worse. Quickly she reaches for her phone, sending off a quick text to her online friend. I’m here! It shouldn’t be hard to spot me - I’m the nervous looking woman with all the really cushy elbow and knee pads. 

-

Rory remembers this side of town as hosting one of those brick-and-mortar businesses, perhaps a local grocers’ or a corner shop of some kind. Now, it houses what technically constitutes a skating park, a niche sport that has inexplicably made its way to Catalina Island. Certainly, it’s a development he wouldn’t have pegged while in his childhood. But he digresses that change is inevitable for places, things, and most especially people. Never would he have imagined skating when he was young, yet here he was now, having messaged his son for skating tips some days prior and meeting up with a friend whom he’s only gotten to know online. 

He tries to play it cool, of course. Most of the skating equipment is still inside the bag slung over his shoulder. Phone in hand, he reads the last text and scans the surroundings for the description in question. It isn’t a hardship; Rory spots the woman — Olivia, he corrects — almost immediately, looking decidedly out of place against the younger crowd. “Olivia!” He shouts the moment he spots her, before pocketing his phone back and rushing in her direction. “It’s nice to meet you. Well, I suppose that isn’t entirely true.” The fact is they’ve been talking with each other for some time now; meeting face-to-face, however, is another matter entirely. A courteous smile forms on his lips before he stretches out his hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you officially, anyway,” he says, “My son says he might come by in a little while to see the progress we’re making.” The incredulity of the statement elicits a laugh out of him, “Well. That’s something I never thought I’d be saying.”

special delivery for → @roryhirsch​​​​​​​ location: hirsch residence / ventura time: april 20th, 8pm

Cool aunt Ellie was a nickname that the youngest Hirsch self-proclaimed ever since Rory, to their mother’s delight, brought a grandchild to their ever expanding family. Although her older brother’s relationship with Adam hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, she was glad that in the past year or so, her nephew was living in a closer proximity to the rest of the Hirsch clan. Granted, she didn’t have the privilege to spend much time with Adam, knowing her brother needed that more, and the fact that her schedule rarely aligned with many of their family dinners. 

Which was why Ellie was took advantage of this family gathering when she showed up to find her nephew paying a visit at the Hirsch household tonight. After the usual family dinner, she noted that Adam probably didn’t want to sit around listening to adult conversations, and with a nudge of her head towards to back of the house, she managed to form some excuse so they could sneak out onto the back porch. They were in the middle of a rather friendly heated discussion whether Ellie’s social media presence had much clout (a word that, she had no knowledge off until Adam taught her just mere moments ago) if they were to collaborate in a TikTok together, when her phone suddenly lit up, her caller ID revealing no other than her agent himself.

“Hold that thought,” Ellie jumped up from the porch swing, before pressing the phone to her ears. Have you finished reading the script I’ve sent you yet? The stern tone in his voice caused the whites of her eyes to reveal as they rolled towards the back of her head. “About that, I’m almost there.” Almost there? You said that two days ago. Have you been dicking around again? “No, I haven’t been dicking around, I—” She stopped her short, shooting a cautious glance over at Adam, his gaze remained on her, making her wonder if he heard the profanity that just slipped out of her lips without thinking. “Look, let me check my schedule and if I’m free, then I’ll get it done by tomorrow. I’m putting you on speaker.” As she brought her phone before her, tapping away to find her calendar app, Adam creeped up behind her and yelled, causing the brunette to jump and losing her grip on the device as it came crashing onto the ground. “Shit, Adam!”

Shit. Hazel hues widened, as Ellie pried her eyes from her phone, before staring at Adam. To her dismay, he repeated her words once again. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m going to call you back.” She uttered down the phone before hanging up, rushing over to her nephew in panic. “Adam, don’t say that.” Shit. “Oh my god, please, your dad won’t want to hear you saying that.” Then, a mischievous grin stretched across his features. Fine, what does dicking around mean then? “You weren’t supposed to hear that! Don’t say that either!” Her stomach sank as she shot a frantic look at the door before turning back to him. But it was too late. If anything, her panic only encouraged him to utter the profanities louder. Burying her face into her palms, her mind wracked for some solution that would end this nightmare already. Preferably before Rory found the pair out in the back porch with his son saying a plethora of curse words before her.

-

In the past year or so they’ve all found themselves permanently residing in the island once more, the Hirsch family has found some sort of rhythm. Sure, the air during the dinners do not exude much pleasantry, but it isn’t entirely uncomfortable, either. In any case, Rory finds it worthy of merit that it had become something of an occasion to look forward to: talking about everyday things, airing their petty grievances with one another, while still adamant on dancing around the matters concerning them most. Still, as most family gatherings go, he considers this as something worth celebrating. 

That night had even felt more jovial with Adam around. It isn’t a surprise to find his mother doting on his son throughout the dinner; Adam is her only grandson after all, and he is all the more spoiled for it. Although, he supposes there’s only so much coddling a twelve-year-old boy can take before it gets far too overwhelming — so when Rory briefly catches Ellie and his son leave for the back porch while he’d stuck to make polite conversation, he can’t say he blames either of them. He supposes that by sticking around and bearing the brunt of the conversation, Ellie, too, owes him some sort of favor. Their mom’s desire for a grandchild and Ellie’s dating life at this point have become two fundamentally inseparable things. 

Rory eventually makes his leave, though, feigning an excuse about being due to bring his son back home to Rachel’s despite it still being fairly early. He’s certain his mother could see through his lie, yet he’s allowed to make his leave anyways as she realizes the moment, too, has passed. Opening the French doors leading to the back porch to pick up Adam, he is met with a curious sight altogether. His younger sister, with her head buried in her hands, and his son saying —

“Wait, what now?” 

His eyebrows furrowing together in wide alarm as he walks steadily to join them. Now that had seemed to quiet Adam down, because child though he may be, he isn’t nearly so young as not to understand the nature of the words — and, more so, the rising fury of his father. Only even Rory is struggling to maintain that anger, instead amused by the situation in which he’d found both of them. 

So, he decides to play around and to exercise his own acting skills. Surely Ellie cannot be the only one who’d caught the bug. “Ellie,” he says, voice raised in faux warning, “Just what in the world have you been teaching my kid?” Rory adds, crossing his arms for good measure.

Geo [12.20AM]: Am I crazy because I'm sitting on the balcony of this beautiful resort in Mexico crying over your text messages? Honest answers only, even if it IS my birthday 😭

Geo [12.22AM]: A week old cake sounds like a trip to the dentist will be in order afterwards, don't you think?

Geo [12.23AM]: But thank you for being caring about me and taking time out of your evening to send me a text. You brought an instant smile on my face, Rory.

Geo [12.24AM]: Is everything good over there?

Rory [12.28AM]: If this is your way of saying I'm more spellbinding than a beautiful resort in Mexico I'll take it.

Rory [12.28AM]: So, no, not crazy, just a woman of taste.

Rory [12.32AM]: Instant is debatable. I'm sure there's a bit of a lag between here and there. Internet bandwidth... connectivity issues... or something.

.

In hindsight, Tyler should have seen this coming. The information that Rory was from Catalina had been buried along with most of the now pointless details of his college experience, but it had resurfaced along with some other things after his run-in with Rachel. It was strange what came back, things about both of them–the three of them, really–that he thought had been long forgotten were suddenly creeping back into his head. If he had it to do over, he probably would have avoided the complication altogether and chosen somewhere else to live. It wasn’t like Catalina was ideal for his work situation.

He glanced up more at the vague shadow of someone standing near him than the chime of the doors, since he hadn’t allowed himself to watch for him like an anxious date. He smiled as he glanced up, more of a reflex than an expression of genuine emotion. “Rory, hey. Good to see you too.” He stood, taking his hand in a quick, firm shake before he settled back into his seat. It had been a long time, but his face was still almost as familiar as his voice. He noted his empty hands and tipped his head toward the counter. “Do you want to grab something to drink?” Was he planning to stay that long? Would it just prolong the awkwardness? He tamped down on the unhelpful string of mental queries and took a sip of his own coffee before any of them became verbal.

-

When Rachel had texted to inform him of Tyler’s presence on the island, Rory’s first expression was that of disbelief. For his part, he had always seen their time in New York as something to be valued, though eventually to be left behind. His home, his family, his friends — they were all here, in Catalina. He’d fashioned his memories in Manhattan as something rather like luggage, one to be cast aside during one of the layovers while on the way back to the West Coast, off to make a new start. Just the same, Tyler was someone who’d fallen by the wayside. At the time, the severance of their friendship seemed like a mutually-consented agreement, even if it were imparted on subtle terms. But the sinking feeling against his chest denoted otherwise. It seems to him that there’s still some words that need to be said, but for the life of him, Rory cannot figure out what. 

He’s almost grateful when Tyler tips his head towards the counter and provides him with a good enough distraction from his thoughts. After he politely shakes the other’s hand, Rory nods in assent, heeding his request and darting towards the counter to order an almond latte for himself. He’s barely counted his change when the barista calls for his name to pick his order up. It’s only once he sees the mug that he realizes he’d forgotten to ask for takeout. No quick getaway now, he supposed. Has to linger to finish the coffee, lest his tongue burns from the damn heat. 

Rory slides the tray over the table before sitting on the chair opposite his. “So. It’s been a long time, huh?” It’s the most obvious thing in the world but there’s really nothing else he has in mind, except perhaps — “Rachel tells me you’re bidding on the same job, or something like that?” He asks, politely. “Fancy that coincidence, huh?” 

Rory [12.05AM]: You know it's really funny to me that you're an Earth sign and your nickname is Geo. It's very fitting. Basically what I'm saying is that you rock.

Rory [12.08AM]: And unless you want week-old birthday cake I'm suggesting you cut your trip and come back to me soon!

Rachel: You're not that weak for me and I know it.

Rachel: It's my fault for capitalizing that. I texted someone else about that show at some point and so my phone just did its thing.

Rachel: But wow you're bad at this. No. Tyler Hale. Your friend from college. My something else from college.

Rory: Your words not mine. But train's left the station and all that. No jumping back anymore. Choo choo.

Rory: Talk about a trip down memory lane.

Rory: Seriously what is up with me and all my transportation metaphors today?

when: morning where: a coffee shop who: closed starter for @roryhirsch​

Tyler wasn’t really looking forward to this conversation, but avoiding problems historically didn’t go well for him. Running into Rachel on Catalina had been a surprise. He’d prefer not to have another awkward run-in with Rory, so he’d reached out to see if he wanted to meet somewhere and catch up. Not that this wasn’t going to be awkward, but at least they both had a chance to prepare for it. A neutral public place seemed like the best option, since his place wasn’t really fit for company yet, and he had no real desire to see where Rory lived. He was making an effort to mend fences because it would be easier than leaving tension among the three of them, not because he wanted an active role in either of their lives.

He’d ordered a coffee to go and found a table by a window where the morning sun filtered in. He always preferred light if it was an option. It probably would have been peaceful, if not for the fact that he didn’t really want to be there. But, then, it was Rory. They’d been best friends once. He wasn’t positive they’d be able to find some common ground again after so much time, but it seemed likely. He was a difficult person to hate, which was one of the reasons Tyler had resisted keeping in touch after college. His feelings were more straightforward from a distance.

-

It’s coffee. Just coffee. It should be so easy, and yet here he is, loitering by the entrance of a place he’s known almost all his life and debating whether to enter the cafe — or, as his mind has come to dub it, whether to cross the point of no return. Rory’s got half a mind to cancel at the last minute, to send a text about some family emergency, and to walk back to his place. Still, he’s never been one to shy away from a challenge, so he decides against the vague inclination and submits to his fate. 

(In his defense, Fate should’ve had the sense to let sleeping dogs lie. Instead, it had decided to send the trouble in question more than a decade after its supposed slumber, on the opposite of the continent, and in his hometown, no less. The episode just rings to him as a cruel cosmic joke.)  

He swings the door to the cafe open with a renewed confidence, the chimes soon indicating his presence. It doesn’t take too long to spot Tyler; even after all these years, his face rings familiar. If it were more than a decade ago, Rory would have greeted his old friend with a hug and even a slap in the back. That morning, he settles with walking towards his table and outstretching his hand, instead. “Hey, Tyler,” he forces out a grin, “It’s, er, good to see you.” 

ღ

Even growing up in a household filled with extravagance, Ava often found herself settling for the bare minimum, even more so once she got married. As long as there was a working lock and a roof over her head, she supposed she felt like she’d be ungrateful to ask for more. At least, in the past decade anyway. It’d been a long time since she longed for something with so many expectations, and she ought to believe that they both deserved so. The thought of bare minimum with all that they’d been through, just didn’t settle well in her stomach.

Although Ava was grateful that they were on the same wavelength with this home, deeming her not to be crazy to find that there was something lacking in this place for them. She followed suit, as they moved through the living room again, latching onto the word us. Which made her wonder, just exactly what made a home theirs? Turning to cast one last look at the house, she attempted to envision this place one last time, the empty spaces filled with furnishing, and photos of themselves. She could almost see it, yet there was still a missing puzzle piece somewhere there, and perhaps that answered the question for herself. That this place just wasn’t their calling.

Then Rory pulled Ava out of her reverie again; just like he always did when her mind spiralled in a different tangent. But his words brought her confusion, before the realisation hit when she was reminded of their trip to the zoo with Adam, and she wondered if that was the reason why his concern was brought on in the first place. The nagging shadow of doubt returned, which was always tucked in the back of her mind, especially since what happened during Valentine’s Day. “Moving in with you is the best decision I’ve made in a long time too, Rory.” She reaffirmed so, because that night after New Year’s Eve, her answer was no brash decision, but rather, something her heart yearned for a while. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking. I guess…what I’m not sure about, is what kind of place we’re looking for, you know? I don’t think we had the chance to talk about that — what we want in our place together.”

Ava allowed the silence linger for a moment, as her gaze fell to her shoes instead, mulling over just how to articulate her thoughts into words. It was ironic how she always encouraged Rory to voice his thoughts out loud whenever he found himself stumbling over them, yet she was struggling all the same. “Trust me, I never feel pressured with you. I mean it — not once during the time we’ve been together. I really want this for us.” She took a few steps closer to him, a tender smile plastered across her features, before it faltered slightly as the next words escaped. “But I also know Adam is an important part of your life,” She added, her voice seemed too loud for her liking amidst the vast space and silence surrounding them. “And I don’t want us to deprive your time from him either.” Her mind drifted briefly back to their trip to the zoo again, as she plucked up the courage to meet his gaze again. “You can tell me, if that’s the case. You know that too, right?”

Despite the lack of coffee and the early morning hour, a persistent restlessness rests against his bones. What nervousness he’s managed to keep dormant is ready to burst against the seams, and his eyes shift between the living room and the door of the house so as to ground himself. Fittingly, it is Ava who offers the most repose; her voice reverberates throughout the room inasmuch as her tender smile comes to ease his nerves. 

Though the topic on which they’ve landed is far from easy. It strikes him suddenly that his reservations of the house run in accord with something else, a fear he hasn’t dared to confront for some time now. Deep down, Rory knows, that whichever property they would choose, they could eventually turn into their own. After all, they had called his apartment — a tiny square in comparison to the rest of the properties queued up for the morning — as a home without little reservations. 

“I think I’ve figured out why none of the places feel like they’re working out.” His pensive expression is made complete with a forlorn stare; for once in his life, he is settled. Returning her gaze, he begins. “It’s not just that we haven’t had to talk about what we want in a place,” he sighs, “I don’t think we ever allowed ourselves to talk about a lot of things.” 

He walks towards the front door and swings it open, letting the air in and giving themselves time to breathe from the weight of his revelation. In any case, they’re due to step away from the house, anyways. Their private viewing is due and he suspects the next couple would arrive any time soon.  It’s only once he steps out to the front porch when he deigns to elaborate, “A lot of the time I think it’s my fault. You know how I always dance around with most people. Try to make people feel better.” He scoots forward so that he could rest his arms against the railing. “But then you’ve got your own way of avoiding talking, too.” A laugh escapes his throat as he looks towards her again, tone still forlorn as he continues. “Look at us, huh?” 

“It’s just — part of me feels bad, you know? Not because I feel bad with you, no, never — I feel bad because I feel so goddamn happy. And part of me thinks I don’t deserve it. ‘Cause of how awful I’ve been. As a father, as a husband, hell, as a son.” Rory sighs, looking back out on the tree-lined street, uncertain whether he has the courage to meet his girlfriend’s gaze. “Do you think that sometimes? How it feels strange, that we’re happy, while everything else feels like it’s falling apart?” 

Rachel certainly doesn’t hate her ex-husband.  It’s just sometimes she has to remind herself she cares, because he has a unique ability to act as an irritant to her entire being.  This ability of his creates within her the ability to push another human away harder, faster, and further than anything else.  So as he fails to acknowledge her joke, or rather does so at the speed of a tortoise chewing a rose petal, she has to remind herself she actually does like him.  She appreciates the growth and effort it’s taken them to get to the point he requested dinner, the point he wants to share space and information with her that will affect their kid.  She clings to that appreciation as she sits, takes a breath, and offers a smile that might be patient if it weren’t so tight.  “I remember,” she acknowledges without leaving room for elaboration.  She tries not to clip the words, but it could be possible she fails and she lacks the self-awareness to note it.   

They used to do it all the time, drinking coffee and staying up all night or late into the night.  Sometimes, especially before they were together, it was their fuel and their muse.  He never turned into the slimy version of a Gremlin that she can recall, at least not in those days when they were so crammed together and young and hopeful and even in love. Maybe she could make the argument that he did later, but there were other circumstances involved.  Caffeine wasn’t the substance to blame as much as a failing marriage might’ve been.

With a sip, she swallows any words that would conjure the warmer, more tender memories.   It’s so far in the past, at this point, it would be pedantic to recall.  And it would divert from the most current point.  She is typically out of bed around five in the morning, so she doesn’t want to drag anything out here, even if she’s not exactly trying to rush him, either. “You wanted to talk about something.  Maybe we should focus,” she points out, settling back onto the couch as she crosses her legs and balances her coffee cup on her knee.  She fixes him with an expectant gaze.  “Spit it out, Hirsch.”

-

If Rory were feeling more poetic, he would say that his departure from his ex-wife and child’s lives was like leaving the table after a meal. You go away because you’ve had your fill, and most importantly, because Rachel and Adam had their fill of him, too. He wonders whether it’s greedy to stay on like this — it is possible he has already overstayed his welcome as it is, whether for the night or for the past few years. The terseness of Rachel’s tone, along with her refusal to play along with his idle reminiscing, further lends to his hypothesis. 

Then again, that might have just been Rachel. She’s always had a certain proclivity for keeping him grounded; that had been his more optimistic self-assessment, at least. If he were less flattering towards himself, Rory would instead say that she had a way of snipping through his leaves and branches, far too intent on shaping the hedge so that his sentences would be reduced to what he actually needed to articulate. 

Either way, he gets the memo. His features lose whatever dose of playfulness they have left once they turn to meet her eyes, because, all at once, the night rings to him like a mockery of a memory. A decade ago, their couch was the most comfortable place in the world. Now, he only wants to curl against it, to touch his knees against his chin, all to press down the strange knots boiling in his gut. But Rory heeds Rachel’s words — Spit it out, Hirsch — in a manner so quick that a part of him, the part that was once madly in love with her, is almost impressed at how quickly he’s relented. 

“It’s Ava. Well, me and Ava. You know that we’re together,” Rory begins. He feels his mouth tighten suddenly, so he tips over his coffee against his lips and takes another sip. “And we’re taking the next step. Moving in together, I mean. But my apartment is way too small for…” A family, the words hang in his throat, though he finds himself sharply inhaling before finishing the statement altogether, “...for another guest bedroom, you know, for when Adam stays with us. Well — what I mean to say is that we’re getting a bigger place. It'll be in the same neighborhood anyways, but I figured I should tell you beforehand.” It’s all declarative but his eyes take another cursory look at her anyways as if daring her to react. “Of course I’ll tell Adam too,” he purses his lips, “Well, eventually.” 

LOCATION: athena’s office  DATE AND TIME: april 12th, monday / late afternoon

In the past year that he’s been based in Lafayette Square, Rory has made a habit of visiting one of his oldest friends in the community college. Some days, he can only offer her the pleasure of his company; other days, like this one, he supplements his presence with one of his baked goods-slash-experiments. 

That late afternoon, the baked goods in mention come in the form of lemon bars a la Rory Hirsch. “I hope you like this one,” he says, placing the Tupperware on Athena’s side of the office desk, before setting down his own tray and taking a seat himself. It feels strangely reminiscent of their childhood years, Mama Hirsch-prepared sack lunches and juice boxes and all, only now they’re older and hopefully wiser. “So, my work continues to be as boring as always,” Rory begins as he lifts the tabs of his container, “how about you? You’ve got students bothering you recently?”  

Rachel: Yes. It's the basis of our entire relationship.

Rachel: She has been, but not in a grocery store on Catalina Island. Think a little more Friends from College.

Rory: And I fall for it every time.

Rory: Friends from College? Like Cobie Smulders?

Rachel: You will never guess who I ran into at the grocery store.

Rachel: But I still want you to try because it'll be fun for me.

Rory: Don't lead with a message like that! My brain can only think of so many permutations! You really like hurting me, don't you.

ღ

In the past few years, house hunting had always been for one. For herself only. As long as the house in question served its purpose, gave her a sense of safety — that had been the most important factor of them all. When her New York apartment only filled her dread everyday when she was en route back home after a long day of work, she knew she needed a new sanctuary. One that its equilibrium would not be violated by anyone else, particularly one person that haunted her life in the past decade or so.

Moving back into her aunt’s home in the past year gave her a sense of nostalgia, alongside comfort at the same time. But as the year past and after reconciling with Rory, Ava eventually came to the realisation that her sanctuary that provided her safety and comfort wasn’t so much as a place, but rather someone. Whenever she set foot back her in the empty house in Ventura, something became amiss as the silence enclosed her. Even with a three bedroom home, it felt too spacious to her. But her boyfriend’s presence was enough to make her feel whole — at home, even. She knew then, the first thing she longed to open her eyes to was not the empty side of her bed, but rather, to the sight of her boyfriend’s sleeping figure. No matter where that might be.

While she was happy to crash at Rory’s apartment permanently this time, she would agree it’d be too cosy for the pair of them. What Ava didn’t expect, however, was how much needed to be taken into consideration in their search for a home together. To think about the needs of not one, but two person. Stifling a yawn as they reached their third home, the brunette couldn’t help but be grateful for the warm cup of coffee in her hand as they wandered into the home, peering into various rooms before following her boyfriend into the living room. 

“I mean, I sure hope there won’t be a yeti-like creature stomping through the house,” Ava teased, a tender smile plastered upon on her features as she reached down and retrieved the fallen photo frames and placing them back into its original positions. “But you’re right. This isn’t it. I can’t explain it, but I just don’t feel like this is the place, you know?” Then it didn’t really register to her now, just what exactly were they looking for in a home. Their home. “Or do you think we’re just being too picky?”

-

He’s keenly aware of how scrupulous he becomes when faced with problems. How his reactions come off a tad exaggerated; his complaints, too exacting, too obscure. It has always been in his nature to be so pedantic to the point of indecision. Such a trait had made him good at his job, but in most situations, it had annoyed people off. Not even Rachel, his ex-wife, could tolerate it for too long. Which is why he’s grateful that Ava meets his trivialities with a tender smile on her face: gently dismissing his concerns, yet in a way he wouldn’t be ashamed by it. 

And Ava’s right — there is hardly a chance a yeti-like creature might come to their house and stomp around. Chances are the stomps would be only of one Rory Hirsch’s making. “Yeah, I’m thinking the only yeti around here might be me...” His light is laugh as he runs a hair over his scalp, face flushed as he is once again reduced to self-consciousness in Ava’s presence. Noting his girlfriend’s tired yawn just moments ago, he decides to free the house of his intrusion, already mapping their walk to the next property about a couple houses over. 

He decides to give it one last look, though. While she makes work of placing the frames back into place, Rory strolls idly through the living room and scans it for a final time. “I don’t think we’re being too picky. It’s not — it just doesn’t feel like us,” Rory declares, if a little lamely, unable to articulate the shortcomings of the property. By all measures, the place would work, barring few major renovations from the ceiling fixtures to the mismatched furniture. In his career, he’s worked with properties far dingier and smaller than this. Yet something about putting two and two together, carrying and fitting sections in the way he’s always done, simply would not do.

It occurs to him then that his turmoil extends past the property and rather towards himself. Shoving his hands onto his pockets, he leans against the frame of the front door and asks tentatively, “Ave, we’re — we’re okay, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so cryptic. It’s just — you know, moving in with you, it’s probably the best decision I’ve ever made.” He clears his throat. “But what do you think? With everything changing, or everything just about to change, and with Adam, you aren’t...” As always, the words escape him, and his sense of coherence is practically wrung out as he begins to feel the weight of everything he’s asking from her. “You can tell me if you feel too pressured, you know?”