she's a rattlesnake

snorts , almost laughing but held back . couldn't bring himself to do it , even with it lacking any real gratification . laughing at a time like this felt daunting . "bullshit ," he muttered to himself , kicking against the gavel beneath his boots as he clenched fists inside the pocket of his hoodie , trying to refrain from letting his anger get the best of him . to keep from losing his cool . he'd managed to keep it tight since rhys left , channeling it in ways that built up his reputation and gave him something to hold onto when everything else felt like it was falling apart . willow , the band .. all of it was a saving grace and rook didn't even believe in fate . didn't think there was a god out there . but something , someone , was hearing him out . though at this moment in time , he can't help but feel like the devil just came knocking , asking him for his hand in chess . knows picking up a piece would snowball an effect he's not sure he can salvage once the dominos began to fall . "no ," he mutters with a shake of his head . "but i want to look him in the eye when i tell him he's the reason she's gone ," he doesn't need to tell her who the she in question is . femme knows . she was there that night . and the night after and the night after . not his brother . not the guy who practically raised him and fought for him . but the girl who at the time meant nothing , and now meant everything .

doesn’t need him to clarify who she is. willow still remembers the aftermath vividly — the oppressive quiet that settled over everything once the flames surrendered to ash, the way she’d stayed with him through the nights that followed because silence had become the only language either of them could speak. and grief had a peculiar way of rewriting history, she understands that because she’d done it too. blamed rhys for the vacancy he’d left behind, for the reckless desperation that led her into toby evans’ arms. blamed god, too, until there was nothing left of her faith except for resentment. maybe that was simply how people survived. helplessness was intolerable; rage, at least, gave grief a face. she says nothing at first. accepts another drag from the cigarette, watching the ember consume itself before she crushes the ash beneath the toe of her boot. drifts slightly closer, shoulder brushing his subtly. “ suppose he’s earned hearing it, ” validates his bitterness with eyes fixed somewhere beyond the abandoned lot. whatever remorse rhys carried now did not change the fact that rook had to bury his mother without his brother beside him. “ regret’s cheap when you’re years late. ” another beat passes before she turns her head just enough to look at him. she knows rhys didn’t just leave him. he left him to stain his hands with his father’s blood, to become something no teenager should ever have to become. to carry her when she could no longer carry herself. “ but you’re also better at being angry than you are at being hurt, ” no accusation behind her remark, merely a quiet observation. “ always have been. ”

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he picks up her bag , gives her his jacket and everything inside her vanishes . every bad thought , every fight . all energy now drained as she sniffles . tries to put up a fight by shrugging the wool off her shoulders , shoving it in his direction and walking off towards the exit . but once she gets outside , the breeze hits along the warmth of her skin and she's turning , still silently crying to grab the blazer back , this time slipping her arms into the comfort . can smell his cologne almost immediately , wiping at her cheeks as she inhales a deep breath to keep her emotions at bay . for someone like her , it was a hard thing to do when anastasia rowe wore her heart on her sleeve , wanting to believe the good . wanting to think of the positive to avoid the destruction that the truth could provide if she allowed herself to sink into its dark hole . he did get it wrong and she's tired of dealing with the repercussion of his own decisions . she did what was best for her because she thought he wouldn't want to get his hands dirty with someone like her , who had completely altered her reputation . diving head first into a sea of lies just to protect the truth of who her family had become . her father , once her best friend , now a criminal . her mother , desperate to cling onto the money they had in order to save face . while her brothers treated her like she was someone they couldn't be seen with . all she had was brooks , and now it was starting to make clear to her that eventually , he'd walk away , too .

he doesn’t argue when she shrugs the jacket from her shoulders, accepting it back into his hands with an acquiescence that has always rendered him defenseless where stasia is concerned. if she wants to be stubborn, he’ll let her. so when the evening air greets her flushed skin and she turns back, silently reclaiming the blazer she’d rejected only moments prior, he has to suppress the faint smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. he’d known she’d come back for it. he knows her better than anyone ever has. yet watching her slip into his jacket carries a far greater weight than merely providing warmth. even now, she’s still reaching for the refuge she’s always found in him, the realization settling quietly inside his chest. even after everything, they’re still choosing each other. he keeps pace beside her without crowding the silence, leaving enough distance while remaining close enough to catch her if she stumbles. once they reach the vehicle, he opens the passenger door and waits until she’s seated before closing it gently behind her. the moment he slides into the driver’s seat, his phone vibrates across the console. it’s his sister asking him where he is, to which he replies, “ taking stasia home. ” jodie’s understanding arrives without explanation as she reassures him not to worry, that she’ll catch a ride. he murmurs his thanks, ends the call, then starts the engine. the afterparty no longer exists, only the road ahead, and the femme beside him.

doesn't have the energy to plaster on a fake smile as femme stood opposite them wears so effortlessly, acting like everything is perfectly fine while his emotions couldn't be more out of control. " amelia. sierra. " lazily motions between the women with the glass in his hand, " i'm sure you two remember each other. " head tilts back to finish his whiskey, welcoming the burn as it slides down his throat. and still, the feeling doesn't compare to the sting of seeing her do lines off another guy — not when so much was left unspoken after their kiss. " where's your pal jameson? "

knows how damning the optics are — she’d disappeared when he needed answers, then given him the worst possible first impression when they finally crossed paths again. the tragedy of it is that appearances have always been far more convincing than her intentions. ignores the needless introduction, attention focused solely on dean. his question lands exactly as she’d expected it would, his accusation masquerading as casual conversation. she looks at him with an amicable expression that feels increasingly decorative. “ i wasn’t looking for jameson. ” i’d been looking for you. but this isn’t ideal — not like this, not with an audience. her attention shifts politely back to sierra, “ would you mind if i stole him for a second ? ” it’s asked with a practiced smile. “ i promise i’ll bring him back. ” yet her eyes never leave dean’s, the request belonging more to him than the femme standing beside him.

barely has time to protest before he's dragging her across the bar, a hurried 'sorry' mouthed in oliver's direction, annoyance curling tighter with each step she takes. gaze rakes over him in disbelief, because of course he would interfere the second she starts to move on with someone else. twists her wrist against his grip, determined to free herself from his grasp, " what's so important that you had to pull me away from my date? " bites out with a harshness that feels unnatural to her, but he has a special talent of unraveling her emotions in a way that steals every ounce of composure she has.

she has always been patient with him, even when he gave her every reason not to be. so hearing that sharp edge directed at him lands with an almost sobering clarity, cutting clean through the haze of liquor and whatever still lingered in his bloodstream. he looks past her shoulder toward oliver, the other man lingering where they left him, making no attempt to intervene as though he understands this is a history he’s arrived too late to compete with. only then does forbes realize he’s still holding her wrist, fingers loosening almost reluctantly. silence stretches, exposing the inconvenient truth that he dragged her away with no plan beyond the overwhelming need to make her stop looking so comfortable with somebody else. “ that’s your date ? ” his mouth twists. “ you can do better than amelia’s leftovers from boarding school. ”

confusion  surfaces  easily,  milo  had  never  been  that  good  with  hiding  emotions  on  his  face,  especially  not  to  someone  who  had  known  him  basically  their  entire  lives.  “  is  everything  okay?  “  it’s  said  too  quick,  his  second  assumption  shifting  to  something  far  more  dangerous.  something  she  had  to  escape  at  home,  someone  she  was  running  from.  it  wouldn’t  be  the  first  time  their  place  had  served  as  a  harbor  for  her,  mostly  because  of  his  sister.  actually,  only  because  of  isla,  a  voice  in  his  head  is  quick  to  correct.  and  then,  her  words  offer  no  explanation  at  all,  though  a  quick  exhale  of  relief  pushes  out  his  nose.  “  alright,  “  it’s  said  with  a  taste  of  amusement,  as  if  she’d  just  switched  back  to  their  previous  banter.  though  he  can  feel  the  tension  in  her  body.  had  memorized  it  far  too  greatly  not  to  torture  himself  with  the  thought,  brims  pushing  into  a  line  as  brows  shoot  up.  there  are  a  few  suggestions  in  his  mind,  assumptions  that  are  either  far  too  hopeful  or  too  destructive,  he  tosses  them  out  equally,  choosing  to  pick  up  the  pieces  only  when  she  delivers  the  blow.  “  why  are  you  here,  elira?  “ 

she watches his concern flicker across his face and she’s careful not to let it settle into anything that could resemble relief. surely, he doesn’t think she’s here because she’s fragile and unraveling at the edges of some unseen crisis. she refuses to correct him with honesty, her pride moving faster than truth can. “ i’m not here because something is wrong, ” syllables are spoken evenly, each word placed with deliberate precision as though language itself is a stage she refuses to stumble on. the implication lingers between them anyway, that she’s not the kind of girl who shows up like this for rescue. and yet, here she is. her gaze drifts past him again, into the house she knows too well, finding none of the evidence she’s searching for but the absence doesn’t soothe her — it only sharpens the question she refuses to voice. “ you’ve been busy, apparently, ” her tone is feather-light and carefully detached as she adds, her jealousy rebranded as observation, curiosity disguised as indifference. she decides to step inside then, because hesitation would look too much like retreat and retreat would feel too much like loss. only once she’s fully within does she glance back at him, maintaining a composed expression. “ i’m surprised you’re home alone. no plans with a certain someone today ? ”

chooses  to  maintain  her  attention  on  the  male  in  front  of  her,  even  as  an  apologetic  smile  surfaces  on  her  features,  nodding  slightly  in  dismissal  before  finally  shifting  her  gaze.  it  takes  a  deeper  inhale  to  swallow  the  response  that  builds  from  the  remains  of  anger.  the  echoes  of  his  words  still  haunt  no  matter  how  many  miles  she’d  put  between  them.  his  flowers  left  to  die  against  the  hotel’s  marble  counter,  even  if  she  insisted  the  cleaners  couldn’t  throw  them  away.  making  sure  to  get  photographed  when  it  mattered,  so  he  could  be  impacted  by  her  stupid  decisions  instead,  this  time.  she  nods,  resisting  the  urge  to  roll  her  eyes  at  his  possessive  display  even  as  it  pulls  on  the  strings  of  her  heart.  “  it’s  a  car  ride  “  she  mumbles,  dumbly.  stating  the  obvious  and  at  the  same  time  attempting  to  place  a  boundary  she  knows  won’t  hold.  had  felt  his  hovering  presence  the  entire  night,  wandering  eyes  betraying  her  more  often  than  she’d  admit,  finding  him  as  attentive  to  her  presence  as  she  was  to  his.  at  least  it  was  now  a  burden  they’d  both  have  to  carry. 

he’s spent the entire night practicing restraint in its most disciplined, almost suffocating form as he watched her entertain other men. every provocation felt like a deliberate test of his patience. and yet, he told himself to behave, knowing if he wanted to get back into her good graces, he couldn’t afford to lose her in public again. he steps in before he can decide not to, closing the space between them and suddenly the conversation she’s having with another man feels distant, irrelevant — like background noise he no longer has the patience to tolerate. he turns just slightly, polite enough to excuse her from the other man’s attention without turning it into a spectacle, but final enough that there’s no misunderstanding left to linger. the boundary registers instantly as her attempt at control and it only sharpens him, like she’s drawing a line he’s already decided he’ll find a way across. “ that’s fine. i’ll still take you home. ” the words are delivered with a practiced gentleness that barely disguises the possession underneath, the kind of composure he learned young in rooms thick with smoke and men who smiled while deciding your fate. then he offers his arm — open palm, steady and unhurried — an assumption dressed as courtesy. there’s a quiet finality in his gaze as he looks at her like the word ‘ no ’ has already been accounted for and dismissed, leaving no room for negotiation.

feels  his  company  before  hearing  his  steps  becoming  louder,  the  whispered  conversations  on  the  terrace  go  on  clueless  about  what  had  gone  down  between  them,  couples  too  entranced  by  one  another  to  notice  her  state.  she  shifts  slightly,  not  daring  to  find  his  gaze  but  acknowledging  he  is  there  nonetheless.  arms  cross  shut  against  her  chest,  offering  protection  to  whatever  is  going  to  come  out  of  his  mouth  next  and  to  physically  stop  herself  from  shivering.  too  much,  like  that.  he’s  not  taking  his  words  back,  just  regretting  that  they  came  out  at  the  wrong  time.  it’s  something,  her  beaten  up  organ  pumps  up  to  her  brain.  as  soon  as  browns  register  movement,  she  tries  to  tell  him  no,  that  she  doesn’t  want  a  kind  act  from  him  but  her  mouth  shuts  closed  just  a  moment  before  it  opens.  allows  the  fabric  to  rest  over  her  shoulders,  immediately  regretting  it  as  she’s  left  to  drown  in  his  scent.  the  perfume  she’s  had  attached  to  every  single  dress  the  morning  after,  the  one  she’d  come  to  miss  when  her  bed  was  on  her  own  pillow  instead.  it  brings  familiarity  and  comfort  she  doesn’t  want  to  allow  herself  right  now,  and  yet  she  doesn’t  dare  to  move.  “  i  don’t  think  i  can  be  your  friend  anymore  “  she  speaks  after  a  moment  of  silence,  lips  pushed  together  as  eyes  finally  land  on  his  face,  meeting  his  gaze  through  blurred  vision.  “  or,  whatever  it  was  that  we  were  “  there’s  a  sadness  in  her  tone,  in  not  being  able  to  understand  their  relationship  anymore  when  she  was  once  so  sure.  “  you  were  right,  it  wasn’t  fair  that  i’d  go  on  dates  and  show  up  at  your  place  afterwards  “  had  he  said  that?  not  in  those  words,  at  least.  “  you  never  promised  me  anything,  i  had  no  right  to  be  angry  “  and  yet,  no  excuses  come  to  mind.  because  they  both  know  her  reasons.  or,  god,  she  surely  hopes  he  can  understand  why  it  bothered  her  so  much.  why  the  idea  of  someone  else  sharing  his  bed,  drinking  wine  on  the  counter  he’d  kissed  her  against  and  talking  on  the  couch  until  they  weren’t  talking  anymore,  it  all  tormented  beyond  explanation.  it  wasn’t  the  fact  they  weren’t  exclusive,  it  was  how  quickly  he  replaced  her.  “  it’s  done  “  because  what  was  the  point  in  pretending  his  words  hadn’t  done  some  damage,  when  he  knew  her  to  an  extent  by  now.  it  was  nothing  new,  it  was  nothing  she  hadn’t  thought  about  herself,  it  was  the  fact  he  saw  her  like  that  too  would  bother  her  for  a  while. 

he’d watched her walk away after their petty jealousy amplified into cruelty, each reaching for wounds they knew the other carried deepest. and for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, charm had failed him entirely. following their last encounter, apologies had been dressed in expensive gestures — flowers delivered to hotel receptions with handwritten notes tucked between stems, room service bills quietly settled. but then came the gossip columns, the photographs of her draped across football stadiums and afterparties, always accompanied by the smiling face of a world cup player the tabloids had decided belonged beside her. eventually, he’d stopped sending anything at all. now, months later, fate has placed them beneath the same glittering chandeliers once more, asking civility from two people who had never quite mastered restraint where the other was concerned. after greeting her by name and telling her she looks beautiful, he drifted easily between conversations so she never feels cornered though she’s never far from the corner of his vision. it’s when he hears another man offer to take her home that his fragile composure fractures and the words leave him before he can reconsider, “ i’ll take you home. ”

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if he would have been honest with her , she wouldn't have been put in this position . she wouldn't be crying , used by yet another man in her life claiming to want her for her and nothing else . she felt stupid , the alcohol intensifying her emotions to an unreachable height as she stares up at the one person in her life she was meant to trust . and she does . this doesn't deter that in the long run , but right now ? right now , she feels slighted . "always someone else , always someone prettier -- smarter , better , and then when i -- you tell me i deserve more but then you --" inhales a deep breath , stumbling over her words as she hiccups , wiping her face clean of the tears that won't stop falling . "if anyone would have made me feel better about it , it would have been you . i thought you knew that ." come morning they will both forget this conversation , pretend it never happened because ruining what they had was never meant to be in their cards . she couldn't survive it . but tonight is different -- tonight , everything was laid out on the table . "i want to go home ," she inhales a breath , sobs breaking through , dropping the bottle down on the ground while picking up her bag . "have fun with stacey ."

every fractured sentence of hers lands like a revelation he should’ve seen years ago. she’d been watching, keeping count of every girlfriend, every fleeting infatuation, every dance he’d attended on another girl’s arm. all of those instances quietly translated into proof that she wasn’t enough for him. and that realization hollows him out. his head shakes on instinct, horror eclipsing every other emotion. “ no, ” the syllable escapes in a rasp. “ no, that’s never been it. ” all those other girls had never mattered in the way she believed. they were easier, safer, but they weren’t her. dating them never carried the risk of losing his best friend while dating stasia would have carried the possibility of losing the person who had become synonymous with home. “ i got it wrong, ” he admits quietly, confession devoid of excuses. noticing the bottle slip from her hand, he guides her gently away from where the glass rolls to a stop. when she mumbles about going home and tells him to have fun with ‘ stacey ’, he doesn’t correct her. instead, he slips off his suit jacket and settles it around her shoulders, then retrieves her bag before she can bend for it. “ okay, ” he meets her tear-glossed gaze. “ let’s go. ”

doesn't mean to look but she does, just for a second, just long enough to see the name before something cold settles in her stomach where the warmth had just been living. she's off his lap before she's even consciously decided to move. the shift happening on an instinct, like touching a hot stove. puts herself back on the cushions of the couch couch, pulls her knee up to her chest. the guilt arrives fast and ugly, like bile rising in her throat she needs to swallow back down. because sadie knew exactly who dylan was. had probably googled them at some point, had probably seen the old photos, the interviews where they'd danced around questions about each other with the practiced ease of two people trying very hard not to confirm something the whole world already suspected. sadie knew, and she still smiled at dylan on that rooftop like she had nothing to worry about. femme thinks about that smile now and feels genuinely ill. "you should answer it," she says, not looking at him, eyes fixed somewhere on the projector wall where cher is having a crisis that suddenly feels very on the nose. she reaches for her plate, finds it empty, sets it back down. needs something to do with her hands and comes up with nothing. "it's probably important."

he immediately feels her absence. the instant she slips from his lap, his hand follows on instinct before restraint arrests them midway. the space separating them expands into an immeasurable gulf, the room abruptly colder than the air that had enveloped it only seconds earlier. she speaks and she won’t look at him when she does, which seems to wound more profoundly than the interruption itself. five seconds ago, she’d been close enough for him to count the rhythm of her breaths. now she’s retreating behind civility, offering him an exit he hadn’t asked for. just like the rooftop where she had volunteered herself as sacrifice before anyone could ask. her words settle heavily as she urges him to answer, not because she’s wrong, but because he knows she isn’t. his gaze drifts from her profile to the phone still vibrating in his hand, thumb hovering uselessly for another beat before obligation prevails, as it always has. he answers but not without clearing his own throat, scarcely recognizing his own voice. “ hey. ” there’s a pause before sadie speaks, her voice gentle enough to tighten the knot already lodged beneath his ribs, ‘ where are you ? ’ “ i’m.. ” his eyes find dylan despite himself. “ with a friend. ” the partial truth leaves an acrid taste in his mouth because somehow, it feels far more dishonest than a complete lie ever would.

watches  as  realization  washes  through  her,  feeling  slightly  more  guilty  every  beat  that  passes,  silence  sitting  between  them  in  a  haunting  manner.  when  an  answer  finally  comes,  it  doesn’t  serve  to  appeal  to  the  turmoil  that  keeps  happening  inside  his  chest.  yet,  instead  of  saying  anything  else,  he  nods.  it  was  the  dismissal  he  was  looking  for.  the  justification  for  walking  out  before  things  even  started.  he’d  come  here  for  her,  most  of  all.  to  make  sure  she  knew  he  was  somehow  grateful  for  what  she’d  been  doing,  even  if  he’d  wished  their  grief  hadn’t  gone  in  completely  opposite  ways.  mouth  opens  to  bid  goodbyes,  another  night  he’d  spend  alone,  wasting  his  time  on  thoughts  about  that  evening.  what  could’ve  changed,  what  he  could’ve  done.  and  then,  she  speaks  again,  eyes  lift  up  to  meet  her  own,  corners  threaten  to  pull  slightly.  another  dismissing  apology  comes  up  his  throat,  those  feel  almost  natural  by  now.  sorry  i  haven’t  called,  sorry  i  haven’t  been  around,  sorry  i  need  to  leave.  they  were  all  part  of  the  person  he’d  become.  though,  he  pauses,  gaze  shifting  to  where  she  tugs  on  his  jacket,  the  ghosting  feeling  of  her  touch  causing  his  stomach  to  flip.  “  you  have  an  event  to  run  “  it’s  an  excuse  not  to  go,  an  excuse  to  turn  his  back.  but  he  lingers,  not  pulling  away  or  breaking  eye  contact,  inhaling  a  little  deeper  than  he  needs  before  offering  a  quick  nod.  “  alright  “  he  mutters,  offering  a  shadow  of  a  smile.  he’d  still  leave  afterwards,  he’d  still  not  want  to  be  there.  but  the  garden  sounded  less  awful  than  the  images  that  hang  over  their  heads.  and  her  company  felt  more  hopeful  than  the  loneliness  of  his  house. 

“ they’ll survive five minutes without me, ” the remark is paired with a faint shake of her head. her father had taught her that appearances were everything, that every room demanded her unwavering attention. tonight, perhaps for the first time, she chooses a person over performance. the shadow of a smile as he accepts is enough to ease that tension inside her chest, relief arriving quietly. her fingers loosen from the sleeve of his jacket, never asking for more than he had already given. he said yes. not to the gala, the foundation, not to everything they had failed to be for one another these past years — but to five minutes. and that’s more than enough for her. with that, she finds one of the coordinators nearby to have a brief word with them, followed by an apologetic smile, relinquishing her responsibilities to someone else to ensure that the evening continues smoothly without her. then together, they slip beyond the ballroom. the crescendo of conversation dissolves behind closed doors until only the evening air remains, fragrant and cool against her skin. the rose garden greets them with an almost painful familiarity — years ago, elise had insisted on wandering these very paths, laughing as she stole roses despite every little sign warning against it, dane trailing behind with exasperated affection while lorelai could barely breathe through her laughter. the memory threatens to bloom into something heavier but she lets it pass. “ i’m glad you came, ” she says instead, her voice gentle. beneath the speeches and carefully arranged centerpieces, she harbored the hope that somewhere between everything they had lost, they might still find each other. “ i didn’t invite you because i needed another guest, dane, ” her gaze finds his as she makes that distinction clear. “ i wanted to see you. ”