✧ every night's a heartbreak ✧

Dream didn’t move away when Sarah struggled to hold her gaze. If anything, she leaned in a little more, hands still gently holding Sarah’s face like she was trying to keep her grounded in the moment instead of drifting off into the spiral of guilt she always seemed to fall into. When Sarah finally looked up and whispered, Dream nodded immediately, her expression soft but certain. “I do,” she said quietly. “I really do.” Her thumbs brushed lightly under Sarah’s eyes as another tear slipped down. “You’re scared,” Dream added gently. “That makes sense. Anyone would be.” There wasn’t a hint of blame in her voice, only patience. When Sarah leaned into her touch and admitted she was terrified, Dream’s hand moved instinctively to the back of her head, holding her close for a moment. “Hey, that’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to be brave about this right now. Things will all work out." When Sarah said she needed her, the words clearly landed somewhere deep. Dream’s expression softened even more, something protective settling in her posture as she stayed right there with her. “I’m here,” she repeated quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.” She meant it in a way that sounded less like reassurance and more like a promise she’d already made to herself. When Sarah hugged her, Dream wrapped her arms around her immediately, holding her steady when her knees seemed weak. Her hand rested between Sarah’s shoulder blades, rubbing slow, calming circles while she let her cry against her shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me,” Dream murmured near her hair. “You never have to thank me." When Sarah pulled back and asked if they could go inside, Dream nodded right away. “Of course,” she said softly. “Let’s go sit down.” She kept one hand lightly on Sarah’s arm as they moved, not controlling, just making sure she was steady. She shared a polite smile towards Lennon. When Sarah hugged Lennon and said she didn’t deserve them, Dream shook her head almost immediately. “You do,” Dream told her. Her hand rested lightly against Sarah’s back again. “You’ve been through more than most people ever will,” she continued quietly. “Needing people, leaning on us both, that doesn’t make you a problem. It makes you human.” Once they were inside, Dream made sure Sarah got to the couch before anything else. She stayed close, guiding her gently until she sat down, like she didn’t quite trust Sarah’s legs to hold her yet. Lennon sat on Sarah’s other side almost immediately, instinctively leaning in and resting her head against her sister’s shoulder. Dream sat down on Sarah’s other side, close enough that their knees touched. For a moment she just watched Sarah carefully, making sure she was breathing a little more evenly now. Then her hand moved, resting gently on Sarah’s leg, warm, grounding, not gripping, just there. “I’ve hit rock bottom before,” she admitted. “The kind where you’re sure you’ve ruined everything and there’s nowhere left to go.” Her thumb shifted slightly against Sarah’s leg in a small reassuring motion. “But the thing about rock bottom,” Dream continued quietly, meeting her eyes, “is the only place from there is up.”

sarah was grateful to have dream and lennon there with her. neither of them had called her stupid for ending up in that situation — if anything, they had only been incredibly gentle with her. she was still crying against dream’s shoulder, and she would’ve understood if the other had pulled away. after all, they had been seeing each other, and now dream had just found out sarah was pregnant and didn’t even know who the father was. when dream suggested they sit down, sarah nodded, trying to keep the tears from spilling again. as dream guided them inside, sarah sat on the couch and stayed close, still clinging to her side like she needed that contact to stay grounded. the feeling of dream’s hand resting against her thigh soothed her in a way she couldn’t explain. as dream talked about hitting rock bottom herself, about feeling like there was nowhere else to go, sarah took a shaky breath. she nodded. there was nothing else to do but find a way through it. “thanks, dream,” she whispered, her voice breaking again. she leaned in and wrapped her arms around the girl, holding onto her tightly for a second before pulling back just enough to look at her sister too. “thanks, lennon,” she sighed softly. “i really didn’t think this was how you two were going to meet.” she tried to laugh, to lighten the heaviness in the room, but it came out fragile and sad. she was trying to rebuild her walls already, even when everything inside her felt like it was crumbling. she turned slightly, still pressed close to dream like she was afraid of moving too far away. “dream, this is my sister lennon,” she introduced softly, glancing between them. then she looked at lennon. “and lennon, this is dream.” a faint, sad smile tugged at her lips. “the only good thing that came out of me sleeping around, apparently,” she admitted, trying to joke through the pain. then she exhaled and looked between them again, cheeks flushed from crying. “is this awkward?” she asked with a weak little laugh.

When Dream wrapped her arms around Sarah, she felt the fight leave her before the words did. She didn’t tighten her hold in surprise. She simply adjusted, one hand steady at Sarah’s upper back, the other resting firm and warm between her shoulder blades. Grounding. Not trapping. Just there. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she answered softly, her voice low and certain. “That’s not how this works anymore. You called. I’m here.” When Sarah pulled back and refused her gaze, Dream let her hands come up gently to her face, not forcing, not demanding eye contact, just offering steadiness. When Sarah finally looked at her and muttered. Dream didn’t flinch. Her thumbs brushed lightly under Sarah’s eyes, catching tears as they fell. “We didn’t ‘choose’ you like you’re some charity case,” Dream said calmly. Honest. “We just love you as a person. That’s not stupidity. That’s intention.” Another sob tore through Sarah. Dream’s expression softened, but there was quiet strength beneath it now. “Sarah,” she said gently, waiting until her name settled between them. “You don’t get to decide my worth by calling my choices dumb. I’m not confused. I’m not tricked. I’m here because I want to be.” She rested her forehead lightly against Sarah’s for a moment, steadying, not overwhelming. “You don’t push me away to protect me. I can decide what I can handle.” When Sarah thanked her for coming and stumbled into the confession, about the coffee, about sleeping with someone else, about not knowing who the father was, Dream listened without interruption. Not a single flicker of judgment crossed her face. “This is complicated,” she corrected gently. “Not messed up. Complicated is human. Messed up is shame talking.” Her hands stayed on Sarah’s face, anchoring her. “I’m not here because the baby is mine biologically. I’m here because you matter to me. That doesn’t disappear because the timeline got messy. You don’t have to have yourself perfectly together to be a good mother,” she said. “You just have to be willing to show up. And you are. You’re terrified right now, that already tells me you care.” She brushed a tear away with her thumb. “We’ll figure out the logistics. Doctor appointments. Options. DNA tests if that’s what you want. One step at a time. You don’t solve eighteen years tonight.” Then, when Sarah finally said it plainly, Dream didn’t hesitate. “I know,” she replied quietly. “And I’m not scared of that.” Her voice remained patient. Certain. “I’m staying. Not because you’re falling apart. Not because you owe me anything. I’m staying because I love you to some degree. And loving someone means standing next to them when things are unclear, not just when they’re easy.” She pulled Sarah back into her arms, slower this time, letting her settle fully. “You are not too much. You are not a mistake. And you are not doing this alone.” And she meant every word.

sarah felt completely lost. she was used to that feeling—maybe that was one of the reasons she had looked for company in strangers’ arms so many nights before—but right now she couldn’t imagine what she would do without her sister and dream standing there with her. dream kept reminding her that things were complicated, not messed up, but sarah could hear it a thousand times and still feel like she was the problem, like she had ruined everything. even when dream held her face, sarah struggled to meet her eyes for more than a second, shame pulling her gaze away. she was scared that if she looked too long, she’d see the hurt she had caused. “you… you think so?” she whispered, finally glancing up again, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “i’m terrified,” she admitted softly, leaning into dream’s touch as she wiped away a tear. when dream promised she wasn’t going anywhere, sarah let out a shaky sob. “okay,” she breathed, tears still falling. when she told dream she needed her, it was the most honest thing she could say; in that moment the only people she felt she had left were dream and her sister. hearing dream say she would stay made a rush of relief flood through her chest. “thank you,” she exhaled, her knees feeling weak enough that she might collapse. she hadn’t even fully registered that dream had said she loved her—her heart was beating too loudly in her ears to process it yet. sarah wrapped her arms around her tightly, burying her face in the crook of dream’s neck for a moment before slowly pulling back, biting her lip to keep another sob from escaping. “can we… go inside?” she asked quietly, looking at her. “i think i need to sit down.” she turned then to lennon, stepping away just long enough to wrap her sister in a tight hug too. “i don’t know what i’d do without you two,” she admitted shakily. “i don’t deserve you.”

Dream barely had time to take a full step forward before Sarah was in her arms. She caught her instinctively, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders and back, pulling her in close against her chest like there was nowhere else she needed to be. She didn’t say anything at first, she just held her, firm and steady, one hand pressing between Sarah’s shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her head, anchoring her there. Lennon stayed just behind them, close enough to be felt, a quiet presence, making sure Sarah was surrounded on all sides. Dream tightened her arms around Sarah. “You don’t need to run anymore,” she said, voice steady but full of feeling. “You don’t need to cope with everything alone.” She pulled back just enough to make sure Sarah could hear her, still holding her close, thumb brushing gently at her shoulder. “You have people who care about you, Sarah,” Dream continued, unmistakably certain. “You have me. You have Lennon. You don’t have to do this by yourself ever again.” Dream slowly loosened her hold just enough to lift her hands to Sarah’s face. She cradled her cheeks gently, thumbs brushing over the tear-stained skin, wiping them away with careful, steady strokes like she wasn’t going anywhere. Her eyes stayed locked on Sarah’s, grounding her there. “We choose you,” Dream said softly but clearly. “Every time.” Her thumbs paused, resting just beneath Sarah’s eyes as she continued, voice calm and certain. “And we’ll keep showing up. Again and again. You don’t have to earn that.” She leaned in slightly, forehead almost touching Sarah’s, still holding her face like it was precious. “Please don’t ever shut yourself out,” she said, quieter now but no less firm. “Let us be here. Let me be here.”

when dream wrapped her arms around her, sarah’s body gave in before her mind could argue. the tension she carried in her shoulders eased just slightly, like the first time lennon had hugged her after that late-night phone call when everything felt like it was collapsing. she wanted to believe she would survive this—that dream and her sister would stand beside her and she wouldn’t fall apart—but fear was louder than hope. “thank you,” she whispered against dream’s shoulder, her voice breaking as tears soaked into the fabric. “that’s why i called you both… i can’t do this alone.” the confession came out raw, stripped of pride. when she pulled back and felt dream’s hands on her face, she looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “you’re idiots for choosing me,” she muttered, then forced herself to meet her brown eyes. “you shouldn’t.” another sob tore through her before she could stop it. “i need you here, but you’re dumb for choosing me,” she repeated, like saying it enough times might push dream away before she could be abandoned. she bit her lip hard, grounding herself in the sting. “thanks for coming,” she added shakily. “i know this isn’t your kid and—” she let out a broken breath. “i wish i hadn’t slept with anyone else after that day we had coffee. but i did. and i don’t even know who the dad is.” the words felt poisonous leaving her mouth. “you don’t have to stay. this is messed up. i’m messed up,” she said, shaking her head. “but if you do… i don’t know how to do this. how do i bring a kid into the world when i can barely hold myself together?” her voice softened, small and terrified in a way she rarely allowed anyone to see. “i need you, dream.”

Dream didn’t rush to fill the silence when Sarah’s walls snapped back up. She just watched her for a second, expression softer than before, like she was recalibrating. “Hey,” she said quietly, not chasing, not cornering. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She gave a small, almost self-aware smile, lifting her shoulders in a half-shrug of her own. “You don’t owe me explanations. Or stories. Or honesty on demand,” she added, voice easy, conversational, like this was just another observation she was filing away. “Sometimes people talk because it’s easier than sitting with their thoughts. Sometimes because the coffee’s still warm. Sometimes because it's good to let things out." When Sarah said she should go, Dream nodded, accepting it without protest. “If you want to,” she said. “But you didn't say something bad. You just said a thought. And thoughts don’t have to turn into anything bigger.” She leaned back slightly, giving Sarah space rather than taking it. “For what it’s worth,” Dream added, gentle but steady, “I wasn’t judging you. I was listening." Then, like she was deliberately lowering the emotional temperature, she glanced at Sarah’s cup. “You didn’t even finish your coffee yet,” she said lightly. “Which feels like the real crime here.”

as dream gently insisted she hadn’t done anything wrong—that sometimes people just needed to talk to feel lighter—sarah shook her head almost immediately. talking wasn’t her thing. talking meant sitting still long enough to feel everything. she coped by moving, by acting, by making choices she didn’t have to overthink until later. that’s how she’d ended up here in the first place. and dream… dream had this quiet way of seeing through her walls without even trying to knock them down. that was the problem. “i know i didn’t,” sarah said flatly, already reaching for her jacket. she stood, movements sharp, decisive. leaving felt easier than staying. “i don’t care if you judge me or not. i don’t care what you think. i don’t care what anyone thinks,” she pushed out, jaw tight. “that’s how i ended up in this fucking situation.” her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. “i don’t talk. i act. and i don’t give a fuck about what people do.” her voice cracked for just a second and she hated it—hated that it betrayed something softer underneath. when dream mentioned the coffee, trying to anchor her, sarah let out a frustrated breath. “fuck the coffee, dream,” she muttered. “i shouldn’t even be here. and you—with your stupid angel energy—you need to stop trying to fix people like me, okay?” the words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away before she could change her mind. outside, the air felt colder than it should have. her chest tightened, eyes burning. she didn’t want to cry. she didn’t want to feel exposed. she just wanted to know why talking—why staying—felt so much harder than running.

Lennon didn’t let her pull away—not even when Sarah’s words turned sharp and self-loathing. She stayed right there, steady as a heartbeat, thumb brushing slow, grounding circles along Sarah’s cheek as if to remind her she was real, she was here, she wasn’t alone. “That’s not who you are,” Lennon said softly but firmly, the kind of honesty that didn’t bruise—it anchored. Her voice didn’t rise, didn’t crack, but it carried weight. “That’s who you think you are when you’re scared.” She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to Sarah’s temple, protective in the way only an older sister could be—like she’d fight the whole world if she had to, but right now she was fighting Sarah’s worst thoughts instead. “You didn’t run this time about this,” Lennon repeated, slower this time, making sure it landed. “You stayed. You called me. You called her. That matters.” When Sarah confessed, when she tore herself open piece by piece, Lennon listened to every word without flinching. No judgment. No disappointment. Just understanding—and a quiet, fierce care. “So you slept with her during a hard moment,” Lennon said honestly. “You were hurting. You wanted comfort. That doesn’t make you careless—it makes you human.” She tipped Sarah’s chin up gently, forcing her to meet her eyes. “And leaving when she fell asleep? That tells me you were scared of wanting more, not that you didn’t care.” At the insult Sarah hurled at herself—she’s dumb for wanting me—Lennon shook her head immediately, a small, fond smile breaking through the concern. “No,” she said. “She’s not dumb. She’s choosing you.” Her thumb wiped away a tear Sarah had missed. “And people don’t choose wrecks, Sarah. They choose people they see something in.” She pulled Sarah into a full embrace then, arms wrapping around her like a shield, one hand smoothing through her hair the way she had when they were kids. “You’re not broken,” Lennon murmured. “You’re overwhelmed. There’s a difference.” She leaned back just enough to look at her again, eyes warm but unwavering. “And you don’t get to decide you’re going to ruin this before it’s even had a chance. That’s fear talking—not truth.” She squeezed her once more, a reassuring, sisterly squeeze. “Dream’s coming. We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time." Lennon was mid-stroke through Sarah’s hair when the door knocking sound reached her. She lifted her head, listening again. Yeah. Someone was definitely there. “Hey,” she said softly, steady and reassuring. “Stay right here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be right back and bring her upstairs."

it was true—she hadn’t run this time. she had asked for help, asked her sister to come over, and she had told dream too, which wasn’t something she would have done in the past, and yet there she was. it didn’t make her feel better in the moment, but it was something, and she felt like her future self might find comfort in what she’d done. “i slept with a lot of people,” she sighed, “and i chose not to be careful with a couple of them, and look,” she added with another shaky breath. she felt embarrassed, sad, and all she wanted was to lock herself in her room and cry alone. sarah listened as her older sister told her that leaving before dream woke up didn’t mean she didn’t care, it meant she was scared of wanting more—that that was why she’d left, because she never wanted to give anyone the chance to knock her walls down, at least not before dream, before all the mess. “i don’t think she can imagine the kind of mess i am,” sarah went on, ignoring her sister’s words because that was how she truly felt, “and if she does choose me after that, i almost feel sorry for her.” as lennon wrapped her arms around her in that protective way, sarah melted instantly, clinging to her, needing that comfort. when they heard the door, lennon pulled away, and sarah looked at her as she was told to wait in the bathroom while lennon went downstairs to get dream. she nodded, waited a few seconds after her sister left the room, but the silence was unbearable, her thoughts too loud. she couldn’t be alone anymore. she walked quickly into the hallway, found dream there, and the moment she saw her, she broke. tears spilled as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her. “dream,” she sobbed, holding her tightly, eyes squeezed shut. “i didn’t run,” she whispered through her broken voice. “i didn’t run.”

"You sleep around, it's not too big of a deal. We all deal with things in different ways. It's maybe a little reckless, sure, but if it helps it helps." Dream leaned back slightly, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a satisfied smirk. She let Sarah speak, listening carefully, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. Every word Sarah offered—every reluctant compliment, every hesitant confession—felt like fuel. “Oh? The best, huh?” Dream murmured, her tone casual but dripping with smug satisfaction. She tilted her head just enough to catch the light in her eyes, enjoying the way Sarah couldn’t quite hide the truth from her. As Sarah detailed her past encounters and her inability to remember others clearly, Dream’s smirk only deepened. She let a slow, deliberate chuckle escape, quiet but pointed. “Well I'm happy to be your favourite,” she said, her voice smooth, playful, teasing, just enough to let Sarah know she relished being the one remembered. When Sarah mentioned the “mommy” thing with the waitress, Dream’s eyes twitched with suppressed amusement. "Wait… she wanted you to call her ‘mommy’?” Her tone was light, teasing, impossible to take seriously. Dream let out a quiet, amused laugh, tilting her head and flicking her hair over her shoulder again. “That’s… a little weird,” she said, her voice smooth, teasing. “I guess people are into some weird shit sometimes, though.” Her smirk widened, just enough to let Sarah know she was enjoying the little ego boost, the subtle reminder that she was the one who had stuck out. Dream’s smirk deepened, a slow, knowing gleam in her eyes. “A second round though, huh?” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. She leaned back slightly, letting the silence stretch just enough to make Sarah squirm. Then, a playful tilt of her head, she added, “I am. You want me to ask it instead so you don't have to break those pretty little walls of yours down?” Her grin sharpened, confident and a little petty.

as she said that sleeping around wasn’t a big deal, sarah shrugged, glancing around like she didn’t care at all—though she did. she knew it was a lot, she knew it wasn’t the smartest or the safest coping mechanism, but it was all she knew. she wasn’t a good talker, nor a good listener; she’d grown up in a household where neither of those things really mattered, yet dream seemed to be taking mental notes of everything she said. when dream repeated that she was the best, sarah shrugged again. “it’s not a big deal,” she mused, taking a sip of her coffee and shaking her head. when dream told her she was happy to be her favorite, sarah shrugged once more. “if that helps you sleep at night, sure,” she said lightly. she didn’t know why she was saying all of this to her—she should have paid for her coffee and left—but instead there she was, talking about past one-night stands like it was something she usually did. “she did,” sarah nodded, looking at dream. “i mean, everyone can be into whatever they like, but i’m not going to moan ‘mommy,’ that’s not hot for me, i guess,” she added with a shrug, turning her gaze back to the window. then the listening came back, dream circling back to the second-rounds comment, and sarah sighed. at the question, she furrowed her brows and looked back at her. “no,” she said flatly—second rounds meant that at some point there would be a third, and then feelings, and she didn’t need that. “i don’t even know why i told you that,” she muttered, her walls snapping back into place. “i think i should go,” she shook her head. “i knew this was a bad idea.”

Lennon kept her fingers moving gently through Sarah’s hair, even as she felt her sister shaking against her knee. She didn’t flinch at the sobs or the way Sarah’s breath broke apart mid-sentence; she only pressed her palm a little more firmly against the back of Sarah’s head, grounding her. When Sarah whispered that Dream was sweet, Lennon nodded faintly, her voice low and steady. “She is,” she murmured, though her words were meant to soothe Sarah far more than comment on Dream herself. “You’re okay. Just breathe.” When the admission—I fucked up… as I always do—fell out of Sarah in a shuddering cry, Lennon didn’t let her pull away or fold into herself. Her hand slid down to cup Sarah’s cheek, wiping the tear that had fallen onto her trousers. “Hey,” Lennon whispered, firm but gentle. “You’re trying. That matters. You didn’t run this time.” There was no anger in her voice, only a soft conviction. Lennon shifted just enough to tilt Sarah’s chin upward, brushing her thumb along her jaw. “And no, I don’t mind. If you need both of us, then both of us will be there.” She kept her gaze steady on Sarah’s, anchoring her. “You’re allowed to need people, Sarah,” Lennon told her softly. “You’re allowed to need us.” And she didn’t look away—not for a second. A faint smile tugged at Lennon’s lips as she bent her head a little closer. “I’m really glad you have her,” she murmured, brushing a strand of Sarah’s hair behind her ear. “I know how hard that is for you. Trusting someone like that.” Her voice carried a quiet pride, the kind she didn’t often show openly. Then, with a small, gentle curiosity threading through her voice, Lennon tilted her head enough to glance down at her. “How did you two meet?” she asked softly, not prying, just… wanting to know. Wanting to understand this person who mattered so much to Sarah. “Tell me about her.” Her thumb brushed along Sarah’s shoulder, grounding and affectionate. “I like hearing things that make you feel safe,” Lennon added, voice warm.

sarah still didn't know how she’d gotten herself into this mess. she was supposed to be safe, but sometimes her own recklessness was her own worst enemy. she wanted to scream, to cry—she felt so lost, mostly because she felt stupid for not thinking twice. hearing dream’s voice started to calm her down, alongside the feeling of her sister’s hand pressed gently against her head. she cried harder then; her walls were tumbling down, and she felt like she was going to crumble right along with them. she felt lennon’s hand on her cheek and looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. "i didn't run," she nodded, gasping for air as if her lungs were betraying her. when lennon told her she didn't mind if dream showed up, sarah nodded slowly. "dream?" she said softly, trying to choke back a sob. "can you come to my dorm, please?" she begged. she never begged, but she was just that desperate. as the call ended, she dropped the phone on the floor and looked at her sister. "i probably hurt her in the past. i’m probably hurting her now, too, because now i’m just a walking reminder that i sleep around and i’m never cautious," she said, roughly wiping a tear from her cheek out of pure frustration. when her sister asked a question, sarah just shook her head. it was embarrassing how many messes she’d landed in because she never stopped to think. "i slept with her the night i had that fight over the phone with dad," she confessed. "i left her room the second she fell asleep. then i bumped into her a couple of mornings later," she told her sister, letting out a heavy sigh. "and she decided to stay. i tried to push her away, but she’s just so sweet and caring." she felt like she was going to lose it again. "and she’s so dumb for wanting to be with me when i’m just a fucking mess who can't do anything right." she sobbed loudly, the sound echoing in the room. "i don’t get why she wants me," she gasped. "i’m gonna ruin this relationship like i ruin everything else. because that’s just what sarah hendrix does—she fucks things up and then she runs."

Dream watched Sarah’s shoulders tighten as she tried to put her walls back up—walls Dream had learned to read. Even as Sarah nodded and said great, Dream didn’t move; she knew the difference between someone saying go and someone truly wanting distance. Sarah would’ve walked away entirely if she didn’t want Dream there. So Dream followed a few steps behind, giving Sarah space but refusing to disappear. When Sarah chose the lower table by the window, Dream felt a small flicker of relief. Sarah had picked a place where someone could sit with her—a silent permission. Dream slipped into the armchair across from her, easing down without making it a big deal. She set her own drink on the table and glanced briefly at Sarah’s jacket folded across her lap, a small sign of settling rather than running. Dream’s lips curved slightly, warmth blooming across her expression. “It is,” Dream answered softly. “And you picked it. Good call.” She watched the way Sarah curled into herself, knees drawn up, face turned toward sunlight. Dream didn’t look away; she didn’t crowd her either. Instead, she leaned back into her chair, legs crossing comfortably as she let her presence stay steady and calm. Sarah told her she wasn’t good at conversations. Told her she could stay but work. Told her she liked silence. Dream nodded, accepting every piece without hesitation. “Silence is fine,” she said, voice quiet but sure. “I don’t need you to talk.” But she didn’t go completely quiet either—she knew Sarah didn’t truly want that. She kept her tone soft, warm like the sunlight hitting Sarah’s cheek. “I’m still going to talk a little,” Dream added, just enough for Sarah to hear the smile in her voice. “Not to push you. Just so you know I’m here.” Dream picked up her drink, took a slow sip, then rested it back on the table. “You don’t have to pretend you’re bitter. Or unreachable.” Her voice remained steady, not accusing, just honest. “You let me sit with you. That already says more than you think.” She tucked her foot under her leg, settling deeper into the chair, comfortable enough for both of them. “So…” Dream started, her eyes sliding back to Sarah, searching her expression. “That waitress.” There was a beat, a breath, then Dream’s head tilted the slightest bit. “A past girl you slept with?” The question wasn’t sharp—it was controlled, calm, the kind of calm that only barely hid the flicker of insecurity beneath. Dream didn’t look away; she held Sarah’s gaze, steady and unblinking. “Just…” Dream hesitated for the first time, then let the words fall out in a quiet breath. “Just make me feel good.” Her gaze locked onto Sarah’s, steady, searching, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. “I was better,” she whispered, almost like a question she didn’t want to admit she needed answered. “Right?”

sarah sat down in the armchair. she’d chosen a table with two seats—a quiet invitation for dream to join her—but she was still trying to keep her at arm's length, a silent reminder that she wasn’t here to talk or play nice. "good," she said softly, letting out a sigh as she stared out the window. there was no hint of a smile; she was just trying to act like nothing mattered, focused on the people outside to fight the urge to look at dream. when dream announced she was going to do the talking, sarah’s gaze shifted to meet hers. she shrugged and looked away again. "i'm not pretending. you don't know me well enough to tell me i'm pretending," she mused. "this is just who i am. not everyone is as sweet and approachable as you are," she spat. it wasn't meant to be mean, but she felt cornered by dream’s kindness, and her words came out sharper than intended. "it just means i don't want to go back to my room," she added, shaking her head and taking a sip of her drink. her heart was racing, panicked by how easily dream could read her. it made her want to run away and cry. she took a deep breath before looking at dream with a deadpan expression. "yes, it is," sarah nodded. bumping into someone she’d slept with wasn't exactly a shock; in fact, it happened pretty often. sarah wasn't usually good at reading people, but she caught the hesitation in dream’s voice. her shoulders finally relaxed, and the tension in her eyes faded. "i don't even remember when i was with her. i sleep around just to get the frustration and anger out of my system," she confessed, looking away. "but yes, you've been the best person i've been with." there was no point in lying about it. "if i wasn't the way i am, i’d probably ask for a second round, but i'm just not like that," she added, a faint smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "the waitress... she just wanted me to pull her hair. she even asked me to call her 'mommy,'" she confessed, finally opening up. "yeah, that didn't really work for me. i left her place before she even fell asleep."

Dream kept a careful eye on Sarah, noticing the tension in her shoulders and the slight crease of her brows. She could tell Sarah was trying to keep herself composed, but the unease slipping through was impossible to miss. Dream stayed close, letting her presence speak before any words did—steady, calm, and unjudging. When Sarah muttered about “dealing with what she deserves,” Dream’s lips lifted in a soft, understanding smile. “Fair enough,” she said gently, her voice quiet but warm. She didn’t push, didn’t demand explanations—just let Sarah have the space to feel uneasy without judgment. Sarah’s next words about boundaries made Dream nod once, slow and deliberate. “I get that,” she said softly. “We don’t know each other that well. I’m not here to force anything.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a subtle reassurance underneath, letting Sarah know she wasn’t going anywhere either. When Sarah asked if their paths would separate after this, Dream’s eyes softened, though she kept her expression calm. “Maybe,” she said, shrugging lightly. “Or maybe not. Doesn’t have to be decided right now.” There was no pressure in her voice—just a quiet willingness to let things unfold at their own pace. “Noted,” she said, a gentle laugh hiding behind her words. “Consider the awkwardness accounted for.” Through it all, Dream remained a calm, steady presence, giving Sarah space to speak and set boundaries, while silently showing she could be trusted to stay—if Sarah wanted her to. Dream’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She tilted her head, letting the silence hang for a beat longer than necessary before leaning in just a fraction closer. “Did you want me to leave… or would you rather I stayed?” she asked, letting the words linger between them. There was no rush, no pressure—just a subtle probing, a gentle invitation for Sarah to reveal what she really wanted, even if she wasn’t ready to say it outright. Dream shrugged lightly, a casual smirk tugging at her lips. “I can go or I can stay,” she said, her tone easy, almost teasing. “I'm not busy.”

sarah was trying to build the walls back up, boundaries thick enough to keep people at arm’s length; that was what she thought she needed. she ignored the desperate scream in her mind telling her to hold onto the people who actually cared for her, because she wasn’t the girl who asked for help—she was the girl who ran, the girl who could do everything on her own because she didn’t need anyone, because she told herself she was all she needed. or at least that was the lie she clung to, because it was easier being alone than caring about others, easier than admitting she was broken. at dream’s words her eyebrows furrowed; she didn’t want a maybe, she wanted the other to agree to go separate ways. she wished dream would leave so she wouldn’t have to feel her calm presence, her warm words that kept trying to break her walls down like a soft, perfect wrecking ball threatening to make her open up. “great,” she nodded, knowing the girl wasn’t going to leave. she looked down at her coffee—black, unsweet, like she tried to trick people into believing she was bitter and unreachable. she leaned a little closer to dream and shook her head. “you can do whatever you want.” then she walked toward an empty table by the window, a lower one with two small armchairs that gave the university café a warm touch, sunlight spilling in. she sat down and looked at dream, a wordless promise that she wouldn’t push her away. she took off her jacket and laid it across her lap. “i guess this is the kind of table you like, it looks warm,” she murmured before looking away, pulling her feet up on the armchair, hugging her knees, turning her face toward the window where the sunlight kissed her skin. “i’m not good at conversations. you can stay, but you can work. i like silence.”

Lennon’s eyes softened immediately at the sound of Sarah’s trembling voice, the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see cutting through any distance between them. She reached down instinctively, letting Sarah rest her head against her knee, offering quiet, steady support without words at first. Her presence alone—calm, unjudging—was a lifeline. When Sarah spoke, Lennon’s hand rose to lightly brush over her sister’s hair, fingers lingering in a gentle, reassuring gesture. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush; she let Sarah’s confession spill out fully, knowing that sometimes the best way to communicate care was simply to be there. “Hey… it’s okay. You’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together.” Her hand remained on Sarah’s head, kneading lightly with quiet reassurance. Every small motion, every steady breath, was a silent promise: no judgment, no pressure—just unwavering support. “I’ve got you,” she murmured. “Always.” Her eyes held warmth and unspoken strength, letting Sarah know she could face whatever came next with someone firmly at her side. She listened intently as Sarah’s soft, trembling voice came through the line. Each word, each crack in her tone, made Lennon’s chest tighten with protective instinct. She heard Sarah beg for a moment to speak first, her shaky breath, and then the words that made Lennon’s heart ache a little. Her hand lightly rubbing her sister’s arm in slow, comforting circles. She stayed quiet, leaning in just enough to hear the phone without crowding, letting Sarah speak to Dream freely. Through the phone, Dream’s voice was calm and steady, asking gentle questions without judgment: “How are you feeling? Do you want to sit down? Do you want me to come over?” Every word was soft, measured, and careful, full of warmth and care. Lennon felt the tension in Sarah’s shoulders start to ease just a fraction. "See? She’s sweet."

she had never known the fear that came with calling someone after fucking things up; she had never taken accountability for anything before, and for the first time she didn’t run—lennon hadn’t let her. she sat on the floor with her head resting on her sister’s knee, feeling lennon’s fingers brushing through her hair, calming her in a way she desperately needed. as she spoke, she heard lennon reminding her she wasn’t alone, that they would figure things out together, that she had her. she was terrified; she wasn’t used to doing things like this, let alone being scared of being left when she was always the one who left first. she begged dream to let her talk first, afraid she wouldn’t get the words out, but as her trembling confession left her lips, she wished she could take it back, scared of what would follow. when she heard dream’s calm voice, sarah let out the air she’d been holding in a loud, desperate gasp, a tear sliding down her cheek and onto her sister’s trousers. “she is sweet,” she whispered back to lennon. “i’m sitting down, my sister is here with me,” she added softly, her free hand gripping her own trousers out of pure anxiety and anger at herself. “i just wanted to let you know,” she sobbed, the sound echoing in the small bathroom. “i fucked up,” she breathed, shaking her head but never pulling away from her sister. “as i always do.” a beat passed before her voice cracked, desperate. “can you come?” she looked up at lennon then, eyes pleading. “do you mind if she comes? i need you both.”

Dream noticed the hesitation in Sarah, the way she was twitchy around the bartender, trying to end the conversation before it even began. Dream didn’t judge—she had learned that walls weren’t easy to break, not when someone had been practicing to keep everyone out for years. Still, she didn’t like watching someone struggle in silence. When the bartender stepped in, Dream leaned forward without thinking, clear and direct. “We’re good. Thanks.” Simple. No drama, no arguing, just taking control of the moment. She saw Sarah stiffen, saw the tiny shift in her expression—the subtle release of tension, a wall crumbling just a fraction. Dream tugged Sarah by the hand away from the line. She kept it casual. She shrugged, easy and open. “Because you didn’t need to deal with that. And I’m not about to watch you do it alone.” She didn’t push, didn’t lecture, just stated it plain. It was blunt, but there was care behind it. Dream had no patience for pretense—but she had plenty of patience for people she actually cared about. “That girl was trying to cause drama or a scene,” she said, half-smiling, “and you know me—I don’t bow to bullshit.” Simple. Clear. No arguing, no extra noise.

sarah didn’t want to be there—facing her past was the last thing she needed. but of course, fate had a cruel sense of humor. not only did she bump into dream, but also another girl she’d slept with and then vanished on the next morning. it was her classic move—keep it simple, keep it distant, need no one. still, when dream stepped in to rescue her from that painfully awkward encounter, sarah followed her lead without hesitation. as they walked away from the line, she noticed how casual dream seemed about it, like it was nothing. sarah, though, couldn’t quite fake it this time. her usually neutral, detached expression had softened into something uneasy—her brows drawn together, her guard flickering. she was struggling to hold it all together. “i was dealing with what i deserve,” she muttered, her tone halfway between sarcasm and self-awareness. she wanted to tell dream she didn’t have to do that, but deep down, she was grateful that she did. “you don’t,” she said after a beat, nodding slightly, “but i don’t know you that well.” it came out matter-of-fact, maybe even a little defensive—an effort to remind them both where the boundaries were supposed to be. “after this, our paths go separate ways?” she asked, trying to make it sound casual, but it came out quieter than she meant, almost like she was testing if dream would agree. “i paid for your coffee and cupcake, and i disappeared after having sex,” she added with a dry, half-hearted smirk. “i think that should cover the awkwardness of the morning after.”

Lennon stayed close, wrapping her arms around Sarah the way she always did when the world felt like too much. “You’re not alone, and you’re not weak,” she murmured softly, letting the words sink in. She could feel Sarah trembling against her, the walls built so high they almost seemed unscalable, but Lennon didn’t flinch. She just held her tighter, her presence steady and grounding. But then she said something Sarah hadn’t expected, and the other pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. Lennon smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know it’s scary. I know you’ve always taken the easy way out before,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But this time, running won’t fix anything. You owe Dream honesty.” Lennon nodded, her tone patient and encouraging. “Yeah. You tell her. The truth. That’s all you can do. It's her decision once the truth's out." Lennon couldn’t help it—she laughed, warm and low, shaking her head. She narrowed her eyes playfully at her sister. “Oh my god, Sarah…” she said, teasing but kind. “She knows you’re like me. We ran from bed to bed to escape our problems. Anyone worth your time isn’t going to shame you for being you. And if they do, that says more about them than it does about you." Lennon reached out, taking Sarah’s hand and holding it like a lifeline. “You just reach out,” she said, gentle but firm. “Pick up the phone. Say what you need to say. You don’t need a script, just… honesty." Lennon wasn’t just giving advice—she was holding space, letting her sister know it was okay to be scared, okay to stumble, and okay to trust that someone had her back no matter what. Lennon squeezed Sarah’s hand gently, looking her in the eyes with a soft, steady gaze. “Whatever happens,” she said, voice quiet but firm, “whatever she says after that, I’ll still be here. I know I’m not much, but I’m back. And I’m gonna protect my little sister—how I should’ve done before.” Her words weren’t dramatic or overblown; they were honest, grounding, full of the quiet strength that made Sarah feel like she could breathe for the first time in ages. Lennon’s presence wasn’t just comforting—it was a promise.

sarah knew there wasn’t an easy way out this time. she couldn’t keep this secret from dream—not if she truly cared about her. in a few months, when the bump started showing, it wouldn’t matter how hard she tried to hide it. she exhaled shakily, all the air she’d been holding finally escaping her lungs. “but i don’t want her to leave me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “this is the first time in years i don’t want anyone else. i don’t want to fight it. what if she doesn’t want to stay?” the words cracked as they came out—raw, unguarded, the kind of vulnerability sarah rarely let anyone see. when she heard her sister laugh, her brows furrowed, unsure what was going through lennon’s mind. but at her sister’s words, she nodded slowly. maybe they were similar—maybe she’d just never noticed before. “okay,” she said, nodding again, as if she was trying to convince herself more than her sister. she reached for lennon’s hand, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “you’re all i need, lennon,” she said softly, her voice steadier now. her sister had always been her anchor, the person she loved most in the world. if this call went badly, she knew lennon would still be there. sarah stood, grabbed her phone from the sink where she’d left it after calling lennon earlier, then sank down to the bathroom floor beside the tub, her head resting against her sister’s knee. with trembling fingers, she dialed dream. “hi, dream,” she began softly, her eyes shut tight. “i have something i need to tell you.” her voice broke again. “wait—please, let me say it before you say anything.” she drew in a shaky breath. “i just found out i’m pregnant,” she managed to say before the tears spilled. “and i don’t know who it’s from,” she choked out. “but i thought you had to know.”

Lennon watched Sarah shrink under her own fears, felt it in the way she stiffened and avoided her gaze. Every wall Sarah had spent years building seemed to crumble in moments, and Lennon could see it all: the panic, the fear, the weight of being pregnant while still trying to study, standing on the edge of a cliff with nothing below. “Yes,” Lennon said softly, nudging her shoulder. “And it doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you human.” Lennon smiled, quiet but steady. “You’re not alone,” Lennon said firmly, pulling her into a hug. “You don’t have to know everything right now. We’ll figure it out together.” Lennon wrapped her arms around Sarah, feeling the tremor in her sister’s body as she leaned in. She rested the top of her head against Sarah’s, letting the warmth of the hug sink in for both of them. Slowly, she pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Sarah’s hair, holding the moment longer than necessary, letting her presence speak louder than any words could. “You just have to tell her the truth, Sarah,” Lennon murmured, her voice calm but firm, steady like an anchor in the storm. “Nobody wants anything built on a lie. You might be scared, but being honest… that’s the only way anything real can grow. I know it feels impossible right now, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be here while you figure it out. It’s okay to be afraid. It doesn’t make you weak. It just means you care. And caring is what’s going to make you a good mom, not pretending everything is perfect.”

having lennon by her side made everything feel a little less scary, her arms around her the way she told her she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t weak was something sarah didn’t know she needed to hear, she was terrified but if her sister said everything would be alright, even with the walls she had built so high, there was a part of her that wanted to hold onto those words, she needed to believe lennon. the way her arms felt around her made sarah let out all the air she had been holding, but when lennon answered with the opposite of what she had said, sarah pulled away just to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. she had planned on breaking things with dream, just to avoid hurting anyone and to not think about what would happen, that had always been the easy way, or at least what she thought was easy, she had walked away from so many beds, so many mornings, how could this be different? she panicked, she liked dream, she actually did, but she didn’t know how to handle it all. when lennon told her what she had to do was tell dream, she froze, confused. “so i tell her?” she nodded, “what if she thinks i’m a slut and doesn’t want to see me anymore?” she asked, eyebrows raised, “that would be fucking pathetic, len,” she pointed out, letting out a sigh. “fuck me,” she mused, getting up, “do i call her? do i facetime her? what the hell do i do, len?”

Dream noticed the way Sarah’s defenses were still flaring—walls built over years, cracking only when Dream had dared to step close. She could feel the heat of Sarah’s anger at herself, at letting anyone in, and it made Dream’s chest tighten in sympathy. When she said she wouldn’t turn Sarah into a metaphor, that she saw her as a person and not a story, Dream caught the small frown that didn’t turn into argument. She understood—it wasn’t about being romanticised, it was about control, about keeping the parts of herself that mattered safe. Then the girl from Sarah’s past appeared, flashing a grin that made Dream's stomach twist. Dream watched her carefully, seeing how Sarah forced her attention back to her, voice flat but steady. Dream felt it immediately—the subtle tension in Sarah’s body, the way her jaw tightened and her eyes flicked away. She watched Sarah step back, forcing herself to stay calm, but Dream noticed the pattern now: Sarah had done this before. She wasn’t just leaving Dream out of her walls; she had left others behind, too. For the first time, Dream realised she wasn’t the only one Sarah had unsettled, the only one who had felt the sting of being pushed aside. It didn’t lessen what Sarah meant to her—it just made the walls she’d built even more understandable. “A chocolate cupcake and a caramel coffee, two sugars.” Dream’s gaze lingered on the barista as she leaned over the counter, taking in the familiar grin, the way she carried herself, the small smirk that made Dream’s stomach twist. “Also,” Dream said, her voice low but firm, “no talking about Sarah while you’re serving me. Yes, she’s here with me, deal with it. . So go and make our drinks… and go over-think why she's now here with me instead."

leaving was easier than staying the night, she was scared of compromise of course she was, but sometimes those nights didn’t even start because she felt lonely, only because she needed an escape, she needed to run away from her parents, and making them feel bad about how she was acting was her own way of rebelling, which had led her to that moment. she had done the same thing to dream before, and what normally happened was that she would ignore them, but dream was dedicated to stay, trying to break down her walls or whatever, and that wasn’t going to be easy, not when sarah had practiced for so many years. seeing that girl she had once slept with made her want to stand up and leave, she wasn’t supposed to be there, and she wasn’t going to say it was dream’s fault out loud, but if she had kept walking she wouldn’t have felt that way around either of them. sarah had unsettled many people in the past, and those girls were only two names in a long list she would never want to confront. she tried to end the conversation quickly by asking dream, just wanting the bartender to stop talking to her. as dream ordered for herself, she noticed the change in dream’s expression, she was surprised the other had reacted this way, she felt she had been holding her breath, something in her broke, maybe a wall, maybe something else. she looked at dream for a second, not looking surprised, surprise that someone had stepped up to speak for her, and she took her phone out and paid for both orders. “bye, kelly,” she mused, now holding dream’s hand and pulling her away from the line. “why did you do that?,” and the wall was up again.

Dream had never been the kind of person to push — not because she wasn’t capable of standing her ground, but because she believed in people arriving at their own truth when they were ready. And when it came to Sarah, she saw more than what was being said. She saw the fear behind the bite, the tension in every shrug, the way her eyes darted like she was always preparing to be hurt. Dream didn’t flinch when Sarah snapped at her outside the coffee shop. Didn’t raise her voice. Just tilted her head slightly, calm and steady. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat and answered, voice low and even: “I don’t think you’re acting, Sarah. I think you’re surviving. And there’s a difference.” No judgment. No pity. Just truth — gentle, but grounded. “And I’m not sure of anything about you, not really. I just… I see someone who keeps raising walls and daring people to climb them, just to prove they won’t. That doesn’t mean I know you. It just means I’m not afraid to look.” Inside, while Sarah scanned the menu, Dream stayed patient. She didn’t try to fix the tension in the air — she let it exist. Sometimes people needed space to sit with themselves before they could sit with anyone else. “You don’t have to like what everyone else does. You don’t have to like anything, honestly,” she said, “But just because something’s popular doesn’t make it meaningless. Sometimes people fall in love with things because they finally feel seen there." And when Sarah warned, don’t make me into a character, Dream nodded, calm and careful. “Alright, I won’t,” she said sincerely. “You’re a person, not a metaphor. I get that.” She took a quiet breath, then smiled again — this time with something real behind it. “But yeah, I am writing something. And it’s about women like us. Messy. Brave. Sharp. Tired. Soft when no one’s looking.” She glanced over, her voice a little gentler now. “People who’ve been hurt but still show up.” Dream let the silence sit for a second, then added, “I write because I didn’t get stories like that growing up. And I think we all deserve to see someone like us make it through. A hero in their own right." She looked back at Sarah with eyes full of quiet care. Dream glanced up as the waitress made her way toward their table, then looked back at Sarah with a soft, curious smile. "Right," she said, voice warm, steady. "The barista is heading over. Already know what you're going to order, or are you going to panic-pick something and pretend it was your first choice?" She said it lightly, teasing just enough to ease the tension without making fun of her. "I might order a cupcake on the side," she said casually, her tone light but sincere. "I haven’t eaten yet. Have you?"

sarah hated how easy it had become for people to read her, first lennon and now dream, and it made her angry at herself for being so weak, for letting anyone close enough to see through her walls—walls she had spent years building but that somehow her sister had managed to crack open just by coming back into her life; now she wasn’t the same girl she used to be, the one who kept everyone at arm’s length, and she resented that dream could see her too, “i’m not surviving, you don’t know me, dream, i’m not acting, this is me,” she snapped, her voice sharp but her gaze breaking away almost immediately as dream spoke about their own walls, about daring people to climb them, and it left her staring at the menu just to avoid those eyes that had too much power over her; when dream said she wouldn’t turn her into a metaphor because she was a person, not some story, sarah’s brows furrowed but she didn’t argue, even if that wasn’t the reason she avoided becoming someone’s words—it was easier to let it slide, easier to keep quiet, but the way dream said “us” made her bite the inside of her cheek and shake her head, “i’m not soft, that’s not like us then,” another wall stacking itself back up; she didn’t like reading, she never had, and maybe her struggles with it had always made it feel like a burden, but the way dream’s voice softened when she spoke made her uneasy in ways she didn’t want to admit; the barista’s arrival was a welcome distraction, though when dream teased lightly, sarah looked back at her and muttered, “i always order the same thing, i don’t usually eat breakfast, just coffee, always too late to have anything else,” and then the girl was there, someone sarah had hooked up with before, flashing her a grin that made her stomach twist, “black coffee, sarah?” the girl asked, and sarah nodded, “yes, no sugar,” only for the barista’s smirk to twist into something sharper, “you were never there when i woke up, and now you’re having coffee with someone?” she said, and sarah ignored the sting in her voice, forcing herself to turn back to dream instead, her tone flat but steady, “she wants a cupcake and… what else, dream?”

Lennon's arms wrapped tightly around her sister. “I’m not going anywhere,” Lennon had said — and she meant it like a vow. Sarah clung to her, and Lennon let her. No questions, no rushing. Just the slow, steady heartbeat of someone who loved her without condition. She could feel her sister trembling, feel the breathless terror running through her bones, and Lennon just kept holding on. When Sarah finally pulled away enough to speak, her voice was a whip made of self-loathing and sarcasm. Lennon didn’t smile at the joke. She saw straight through it. But she didn’t shut it down either. She brushed her hand gently over Sarah’s back. “You’re not awful,” Lennon said softly but firmly. “You’re overwhelmed. You’re scared. And maybe you made some wild choices, but that doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human.” She sat beside her, knees touching. Lennon didn’t pry — she just stayed close, just in case her sister needed a reason not to vanish into herself. “You want to be seen,” Lennon said softly. “That doesn’t make you awful, Sarah. That makes you hurting. And I see you. Not just the chaos — you. The girl who’s scared and angry and still trying to make jokes through the pain. You’re not dumb. You’re just… figuring it out. And yeah, maybe this isn’t what you imagined — but that doesn’t mean it can’t become something good.” When Sarah finally looked up, Lennon met her eyes with a quiet strength — not dramatic, not overbearing. Just steady. Just safe. Sarah's next comment Lennon snorted at, smirking despite herself. “Well, we were working on it,” she said, nudging Sarah lightly. “But damn, you really pulled a plot twist, huh?” Lennon reached over, threading her fingers gently through her sister’s. “Maybe,” she said, voice calm and warm. “But they’ll also be born into so much love." Then, when Sarah whispered her thank-you, Lennon squeezed her hand. “Always,” she said simply. “You call, I come. No matter what.” She pressed a tender kiss to Sarah’s head, lingering there for a heartbeat, her lips warm and steady against tangled hair. Then, in a voice low, sure, and full of love, she whispered, "This baby is going to have such a good mom in you. You already know what not to do, Sar. You know how it felt — and you’re not going to pass that on. You're going to break the cycle. I know you are." She wrapped her arm around Sarah’s shoulder, holding her close again, not letting her pull away — not from this truth, not from this hope. “You don’t have to be perfect,” Lennon added softly, “just real. And you’ve always been that.”

her sister was reading her like a book and that alone made sarah want to crawl out of her own skin, because she’d spent years building walls and suddenly none of it mattered—lennon could still see her fear, her panic, the way being pregnant while still studying felt like standing on the edge of a cliff with no ground below; “maybe i’m just overwhelmed, scared and an awful human, lennon, you don’t know that,” she muttered, but she knew her sister did, because lennon always did, and when she let out a sad little laugh and asked if she was really that easy to read, it was like admitting defeat, like saying yes, i’m terrified, yes, i’ve screwed up before just to prove to our parents i could, yes, i keep making messes i don’t know how to clean; but then she chuckled at lennon’s words and nudged her, “what’s life without plot twists?” and the tiniest smile tugged at her lips because maybe this wasn’t just a disaster, maybe calling lennon had been the best decision she could’ve made; still, her voice broke when she whispered, “you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right? how am i supposed to be a good mom? i don’t know what i’m doing, len,” and leaning into her sister’s arms felt like the first real breath she’d taken all day—until another wave of panic crashed over her, “i’m kinda seeing this girl… how the heck do i tell her i’m pregnant and i like her?” she blurted, before shaking her head at her own words, pacing and standing up because sitting still was impossible, “maybe i should just end it, tell her there’s nothing, stop it before anyone gets hurt, right?” her eyes were wide when they landed on lennon again, her voice cracking under the weight of it all, “that’s what i have to do, right? god.”

Lennon had never seen Sarah like this—shattered, furious, breaking apart in slow, violent waves. The anger in her sister’s eyes was only barely hiding the fear underneath. When Sarah knocked over the bin, Lennon didn’t flinch. She just stepped forward quietly, her hand brushing Sarah’s arm with a kind of careful gentleness that didn’t ask for permission. She watched as Sarah turned to face her, that hardened look faltering for just a second. Lennon didn’t say anything at first—she just held on, grounding her hands on Sarah’s shoulders like an anchor, waiting until her sister’s breath hitched and her guard cracked. Lennon’s heart clenched, but she didn’t interrupt. She just stayed there, steady, her grip never leaving Sarah’s shoulders. Lennon met her gaze, eyes soft but unwavering. “You don’t have to have it all figured out,” she said. “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you decide—baby or not—I’m with you. I promise that." Lennon knew the journey ahead wasn't going to be an easy one. Sarah let out a shaky breath, and Lennon could see how badly she’d needed a hug. The tension in her body released all at once, and when Lennon told her not to shut them out, she saw it hit—hard. Lennon didn’t try to fix it with empty words. She just opened her arms as Sarah stepped into them, clinging tight like she was afraid to let go. Lennon held her just as tightly. She rubbed her back gently as she pulled away, watching her sister try to gather herself, pull the broken pieces back into something that looked like strength. She let her go, not pushing, just staying close as Sarah walked over and sat on the closed toilet, her arms wrapped around her middle like she was still trying to hold something in. Lennon let out a breath that was almost a laugh, sad and soft. “You’re awful,” she said with a small smirk, moving to sit beside her. “But that’s exactly why you’re not doing this alone." Lennon glanced over at her sister, her voice calm but steady. “It’s up to you if you want to tell Mom,” she said gently, “but I know she’ll say something dumb like she always does.” She reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Sarah’s ear. “Things aren’t going to be easy, sis… but you’re strong, and brave, and smart. You’ll make the right decisions when you need to—I believe that.” Lennon let out a quiet breath, the corner of her mouth twitching into the faintest smile. She nudged Sarah’s knee gently with her own and said, “Auntie Lennon though. Crazy, huh?” Her voice was light, teasing—but there was a warmth behind it, something steady and real.

sarah was sad, angry, furious, and scared all at once—so overwhelmed she didn’t even know how to let it all out. how could she, when she’d just found out she was pregnant after sleeping around with more people than she could count? when she crashed into lennon, her eyes closed tightly, trying to keep herself together, trying to breathe. lennon was promising she wasn’t going anywhere, and sarah believed her, but that didn’t make the terror disappear. she clung to her sister like she’d fall apart the second she let go, like staying grounded depended entirely on that hug. she tried to calm herself down, but how could she, when everything she thought she knew about her life had just shattered? sitting down, her arms wrapped around herself, she fought back tears, using jokes like armor, trying to look like she didn’t care—trying to rebuild her walls one brick at a time. “i’m awful, that’s how i’d describe myself,” she said, nodding. “i don’t want to tell mom,” she added, “but the idea of making her angry is kind of tempting.” she tried to laugh like it would make any of this easier. “first of all, stop with the pep talk. i’m not strong, not brave, and this... this isn’t smart,” she said, her voice cracking. “i’m an asshole, i’m dumb, and i just want people to look at me, react to me, and this is what i get.” she shook her head, unable to believe herself. when lennon brushed her leg gently, sarah finally looked up. “it does sound crazy,” she whispered. “especially considering i always thought i’d be the aunt first, you know, with you and your two hot partners,” she tried to joke again. she wiped the tears off her cheeks. “this kid’s gonna have more aunts and uncles than most,” she said, her voice softening. “born out of chaos and probably walking through it their whole life,” she added, a dry laugh escaping her. “thanks for coming, len.”