she's a rattlesnake

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. ”

she doesn't lie well around him. that's the fucked part. every relapse has always looked the same from the inside. she always tells herself it'll quiet everything for an hour. that this time she'll stop before anyone notices. that she still has enough control left. then he notices. a sick part of her wants to tell him she's clean just to watch relief dismantle his features, even if it only lasts five minutes. another part wants to laugh because they've done this enough times that they both know the script by heart. he asks. she lies. he doesn't believe her. she disappears anyway. like he's watching someone drown who keeps batting away the hand trying to pull her out. she hates that look more than withdrawal. she stares out at the black water instead of him, digging the toe of her shoe into damp sand until it caves beneath the pressure. for a second she almost says no automatically. the syllable is already sitting behind her teeth. " does it matter ? " her eyes slip away before he can answer.

does it matter ? the question settles deep beneath his ribs and he doesn’t answer immediately. for a fleeting, disorienting moment, he’s seventeen again, standing on the banks of hollow creek while people asked questions he could never answer. his life has become an accumulation of those moments, forever convinced that if he’d noticed something sooner, asked one more question, lingered a little longer, someone might still be alive. parker is the only person who has managed to fracture that belief. she keeps proving that vigilance alone can’t save someone determined to outrun themselves. instead, he moves to stand beside her, shoulder nearly brushing hers, his gaze settling on the black water stretching endlessly. he doesn’t ask what she took. the professional version of him would — he’d gather facts, build timelines, search for cause. but she stopped being a case file a long time ago. “ i’m not asking what happened, ” he shakes his head, his voice absent of accusation. he looks at her, “ i’m asking if you’re alright. ”

homme let the unanswered claim hang where she'd left it, unbothered by the silence around it — she wasn't wrong to leave it there, and they both knew it. by the time the bartender set her gin and tonic down, his own glass was already waiting, poured without him having to ask, the same thing he always had. "you make composure look like confidence," he said, watching her, the particular brand of resignation dressed up as wit not lost on him. "most people can't do that. they let you see the seams." his gaze stayed even, unhurried, the same way he'd watched her all night — not unkindly, just thoroughly, the habit of a man who'd learned that what people didn't say was almost always more useful than what they did. something loosened at the corner of his mouth. "first night's the hardest," he added, and then a low quiet laugh followed it, like he'd caught himself mid-sentence and decided honesty was funnier. "actually that's not true at all. but it's what people say." his eyes stayed on her, something almost like ease settling into them for the first time all night. he raised his glass toward hers. "to surviving first days."

his remark about confidence unsettles her more than she lets show. because it’s accurate. she’s spent years making composure look effortless, turning sharp edges into wit and exhaustion into indifference. “ years of customer service, ” she rebuts lightly, pretending fluorescent lights and rude customers were what taught her to smile through discomfort. the truth is much older than that; it is childhood. then his correction about first nights earns a small huff through her nose. “ good, ” it’s uttered dryly. “ i was worried it only got better from here. ” she lets her glass meet his with a soft clink. small, reluctant, the first gesture between them that isn’t part of the performance. she takes a sip of the gin and tonic before studying him in return, properly this time. he knew where she worked, where she lived, what she owed. he’s assembled pieces of her life while she still knows almost nothing about this, only observations stitched together from a single evening. she dislikes how uneven the ledger feels. “ you spend an awful lot of time figuring other people out, ” a pause. “ does anybody ever get to figure you out ? ” always believed every person had a fracture somewhere. her father hid behind his rage, her mother behind a bottle. she finds herself wondering, despite herself, where abel keeps his.

there's a feeling deep in her gut that tells her she should have never even gotten this close to him in the first place. that she should have never invited him over, because while her intentions were pure at the time — not wanting to invite the attention of paparazzi if they were to hang out in public — dylan now realizes that privacy was somehow infinitely worse. that they could indulge in each other free of consequence, at least for now. had built herself a very pretty trap and walked straight into it. and she can't bring herself to care even slightly. has never wanted anything more than this, his forehead against hers, the warmth of his hand cradling her face like she's something worth being careful with. the tip of her nose brushes against his, and whatever was left of her resolve goes quietly and without a fight. "no talking," hums playfully as she shifts her weight forward and lifts one knee, then the other, until she's settled across his lap entirely, hands finding his shoulders. femme pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes tracing his face like she's relearning something she never actually forgot. her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of mouth like she has all the time in the world, like she's enjoying the last inch between them almost as much as she'll enjoy closing it. tilts her chin up, lets her lips hover just a breath away from his — and then his phone goes off.

the shrill vibration cleaves through the silence and he flinches instinctively, eyes slipping shut as quiet frustration settles across his features. of course. perhaps this was always going to happen, consequences merely patient enough to wait until the precise moment neither of them possessed the fortitude to walk away. he doesn’t reach for the phone, lets it ring once, twice, a third time, each vibration feeling less like a call and more like reality demanding to be acknowledged. only then does he become acutely aware of their position — dylan seated across his lap, his hand still cradling her face with unconscious tenderness, her fingers woven into the hair at the nape of his neck. “ give me a second, ” the request emerges with palpable reluctance. not an invitation for her to leave, merely a plea not to disappear before he finds the courage to confront the interruption. instead of reaching for the phone, he leans forward again until his forehead rests gently against hers, eyes closing for one lingering beat. a silent understanding passes between them that neither of them could pretend this evening had remained innocent. when he finally forces himself to look, the screen illuminates with the exact name he’d expected. sadie. his thumb hovers above ‘ ACCEPT ’ without moving. all his life, he’d answered every call — from coaches, family, managers — without hesitation. tonight, he finds himself wishing that obligation would simply stop calling.

it’s  basically  shameless  how  quick  his  stomach  turns  at  the  sight  of  her,  door  opening  into  what  he  expects  to  be  an  impromptu  visit  from  his  family,  a  friend  or  even  some  type  of  delivery  he  forgot  was  scheduled.  anyone  but  her  would’ve  been  right  within  his  folder  of  options.  and  then,  he’s  speechless,  something  completely  unseen  for  the  male.  he  waist,  as  if  she’s  going  to  offer  an  explanation.  maybe  she’s  here  to  see  his  sister,  even  if  she’s  not  home.  cross  get  wired,  maybe  she’s  early.  what  he  suspected,  though,  as  a  result  of  recent  events,  was  that  she  wasn’t  here  to  see  him.  and  perhaps  the  sentence  that  exits  her  mouth  is  a  hint  of  that.  mouth  opens,  shutting  down  just  as  quickly,  he’d  promised  himself  not  to  play  this  game  again  with  her.  “  isla  is  not  home  “  and  then,  he  slides  to  the  side,  making  room  for  her  to  enter  their  place.  “  she’ll  take  a  while  “  it’s  almost  dismissive,  as  if  he’s  setting  the  scene  to  go  back  to  the  solace  of  his  room,  but  he  lingers,  waiting  for  her  next  move.

she doesn’t move, one foot stubbornly remaining anchored outside, the other just barely across the threshold, suspended in an indecisive liminality that feels almost laughable considering how many nights she’d crossed this doorway without a second thought. back then, she knew where she would end up, where he would touch her, how the evening would unravel. there had always been a script, even if neither of them ever admitted to rehearsing it. now she stands there with nothing but silence between them, discovering that uncertainty weighs considerably more than anticipation ever did. his assumption lands sharply when he reveals his sister isn’t home, almost dismissing her with that. not why are you here ? not i wasn’t expecting you. simply the conclusion that she couldn’t possibly have come looking for him. “ i know. ” her mouth curves into a brittle resemblance of amusement. “ i’m actually here to ruin your evening. ” only then does she lift her eyes fully to his again, studying him with measured indignation. “ you’re not even going to ask why i’m here ? ” it’s light enough to present as sarcasm but an unmistakable challenge is threaded beneath it.

once  silence  surrounds  them,  she  feels  a  little  lost.  looking  for  something  else  to  get  her  hands  busy,  wanting  to  avoid  his  attention  even  if  heart  continues  to  beat  faster  under  it.  “  you  looked  very  “  lips  are  pushed  together,  eyes  narrowed  as  she  pretends  to  look  for  a  word,  head  bobbing  as  she  fights  smile  from  spreading.  “  very  tall,  i’d  say  “  and  then,  she  gives,  offering  a  grin  that  says  what  she  can’t  put  into  words,  ignoring  the  heat  that  rises  behind  her  neck  as  she  meets  his  gaze.  “  and  you’re  doing  it  “  she  breathes  out,  a  sense  of  pride  blooming  inside  her  chest.  from  all  the  times  she’d  heard  him  go  over  the  details  of  the  sport  when  they  were  nine  years  old,  nodding  her  head  along  and  attempting  to  pick  the  small  things  because  she  knew  it  was  important  to  him.  to  now,  watching  her  best  friend  stand  on  podiums  across  the  world.  his  next  words  catch  her  by  surprise,  not  because  they  hadn’t  discussed  it,  but  because  she’d  been  far  too  entranced  in  her  own  web  of  thoughts.  and  then,  it’s  quick,  smile  faltering  before  she  can  school  her  features  into  hiding  it.  “  maybe,  “  she  nods,  there’s  a  slice  of  sadness  to  it.  the  realization  that  to  watch  him  shine  she’d  actually  have  to  leave  the  space  she’d  felt  safe  in.  “  maybe  if  it’s  close  enough,  i  could  get  away  for  a  couple  days  “  it’s  the  promise  he’d  heard  too  many  times,  guilt  sinking  her  stomach.  “  my  grandma  can’t  really  be  alone  for  too  long  and,  “  shrugs,  the  explanation  he’d  also  known  too  well.  the  weight  of  knowing  she’d  always  be  stuck  in  their  town  as  he  conquered  the  world. 

the silence is deafening after a race weekend. and this time, it’s not because there had been any shortage of noise. it had been quite the opposite, with engineers apologizing over poor strategy and reporters calling the result unfortunate, like the word could soften the sting of watching victory slip through his fingers behind a safety car and ill-timed pit stop. his father’s voice had been the loudest of them all: you should’ve won. as if seven hadn’t been telling himself the exact same thing since the checkered flag. he’d left before anyone could stop him. before his father could notice. before callie could coax a smile out of him he didn’t possess. there had only been one destination his mind kept returning to. home. his duffel hangs from one shoulder as he stands at celeste’s front door, exhaustion settling so deeply into his bones. how many times had she pieced him back together without even realizing she was doing it ? too many. if there has ever been a place where the noise finally stops, it has always been behind this door. his hand hovers for only a second before knuckles meet the wood in three quiet knocks.

let the dig land, a low huff of something close to a laugh escaping before he could decide whether to give her the satisfaction. "sober's the only way i trust anyone working for me," he said, signaling the bartender with two fingers without breaking eye contact with her. "doesn't matter if it's flirting or running a package across town. i need people sharp, not sloppy." pulled out the chair beside her this time, not across, something looser in how he settled into it now that the night's real work was done. when she asked about the drink, he tilted his head, considering her like the question actually mattered. "i'll let you pick, lola. i'm not a bad person." the claim hung there a beat too long, daring her to argue with it, his expression giving away nothing about whether he believed it himself. "you held your own in there, by the way. most people get stiff their first time. you didn't." he leaned back, watching her with something unreadable. "so. what's it going to be?"

his words settle somewhere unexpectedly deep. she’d spent years assuming men like him survived through excess, not discipline. instead, she’s found rules where she’d expected chaos. it forces her to look inward — how many diner shifts had she stumbled through nursing a hangover ? how many nights did she blur into oblivion because sobriety meant sitting alone with memories she had no desire to revisit ? a faint flicker of shame surfaces before she can extinguish it. it seems forgetting wasn’t going to be an option anymore. she notices him settling into the chair beside hers which somehow makes the conversation feel less like an interrogation, despite instinctively preserving a sliver of space between them all the same. she lets his claim that he’s not a bad person linger unanswered. knows that dangerous and bad had never been synonymous. her father had managed to be both. abel.. she isn’t certain where he belongs yet. his compliment earns a faint exhale through her nose. “ you make it sound like i had a choice. ” the humor is subdued, almost resigned. he mistakes composure for confidence when in reality she’d simply learned long ago that surviving men often meant making them believe you weren’t afraid. her gaze lifts toward the bartender, “ i’ll have a gin and tonic. ” once the drink is set in front of her, she lifts the glass as a wry smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “ to surviving first days. ”

her breath catches somewhere she doesn't account for, the space between them thick and charged in a way the rest of the night has only been circling around. every careful thing she's told herself for the last year about sadie, about timing, about not doing this again, about being the bigger person and giving him an easy out on the rooftop, goes quiet at once, drowned out by something much louder and far less reasonable. the pizza, the movie, the entire careful architecture of just friends she'd built over the course of one evening, all of it dissolves somewhere in the three inches separating them. her gaze drops to his mouth one more time, and this time she doesn't drag it back up, doesn't bother pretending she wasn't looking. her hand finds the edge of the couch cushion to steady herself as she shifts toward him, slow, deliberate, the foot still loosely tangled with his lap completely forgotten now. the distance between them collapses by inches, her pulse loud in her own ears, and her eyes flutter shut the second she's close enough that she doesn't need them open anymore.

a silent, almost devastating realization settles over him. if he kisses her now, there will be no retreating behind the comfortable narrative that this evening had been innocent. for the briefest instant, guilt arrives in the shape of sadie, a reflex honed by obligation more than desire. then he catches how dylan looks at him, gaze lingering on his mouth, and every sensible thought is eclipsed beneath the sheer gravity of their history. all those years spent orbiting one another. every almost-kiss, every interruption, every occasion mistimed by circumstance rather than feeling. perhaps they had always been wandering toward this exact moment. his hand finally leaves where it had rested against her foot, not to create distance but to bridge it. fingers hover beside her cheek, hesitating with near reverence before gently cupping her face, as though any abrupt movement might fracture the fragile sanctity between them. “ dylan.. ” her name escapes scarcely above a whisper. their foreheads meet first, breaths intertwining, an involuntary smile ghosting across his lips when the familiar scent of her shampoo reaches him. he closes the final inch with excruciating patience, allowing her every opportunity to stop him before his lips brush hers in a kiss so feather-light it feels less like a decision than the inevitable conclusion to a story they’d been writing for years.

knows his brother better than anyone . rhys was smart , strong , resilient . coming back home was a risk especially after the loss of their mother that came shortly after his departure . forced to face the late myers while he lit the match , burning her alive in front of his very eyes along with the house he grew up in . he couldn’t protect her despite years of taking their father’s abuse until rook was old enough to take him on . realized then that he didn’t need is older brother to save him , he could do that all by himself . that meant taking willow under his wing , too . everything changed for her when his brother left and he’ll never forgive him for his decision to turn both worlds upside down . forced to learn how to fend by himself at an early age . was grateful for femme , alongside his best friends — teddy and edison — who had his back just the same way . he reaches for a cigarette and lights it , inhaling the smoke before blowing a cloud out towards the sky . “kill him .” there was no telling how he’d react but he knew that nothing rhys said would fix anything and he had a lot of anger in his heart to allow him to remain in town unscathed . they all had unfinished business . “might need to get himself a new nose .” shrugs , extending the cigarette out to her , “he say anything to you about why ?”

anyone else might have mistaken his answer for a joke, something muttered through gritted teeth to make the hurt sound smaller than it is, but willow has long since learned the distinction. anger had always been rook’s preferred language for grief. she’d watched it harden inside him the same way he’d watched something irrevocable calcify inside her. maybe that was why confiding in him had always come easier than it ever did with grace or margaret. her sisters still searched for gentleness in this world while willow spent her whole life rebelling against softness, sneaking out beneath pastor sinclair’s roof in search of a world that promised there had to be more than obedience and scripture. and rook never asked her to be anything but exactly what she was. she accepts the cigarette from his outstretched hand, bringing it to her lips before exhaling a languid ribbon of smoke into the abandoned quiet surrounding them. her thoughts drift to rhys, the fractured apologies and unfinished sentences, his regret articulated too late to resemble absolution. he’d spoken like a man attempting to gather shards with bleeding hands. “ i don’t know, ” she admits at last, eyes lingering somewhere beyond the horizon. “ he said enough to know he regretted leaving. ” a beat passes, smoke dissipating between them. “ not enough to explain it. ” finally, she turns toward him and her voice is quiet, almost contemplative. “ you even want an explanation anymore ? ”

can’t even blame her for it. if she’d been on the other side of the door, she’d have prayed for the same thing. she’d spent months teaching everyone who cared about her that she’d eventually disappear, lie, relapse, choose the next deal over the next promise. showing up now, gaunt, exhausted, felt less like returning and more like proving every fear she’d left behind. her eyes float past her shoulder into the apartment that used to feel familiar, swallowing around the knot in her throat. “ yeah, ” she mutters under her breath. “ was hoping i wouldn’t have to either. ” nothing mattered. “ i just need my shit, lola. ” her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag, the only possession she hasn’t managed to lose.

she lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “ months, ” it’s echoed more to herself, “ you disappear for months.. ” her gaze drifts over the femme standing in her doorway, snagging on the gauntness she’d failed to conceal, the exhaustion settling into her bones like something chronic. klein looks like she hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept, hasn’t belonged anywhere in days. resentment swells anyway, obstinate in its persistence, because compassion has never been strong enough to erase betrayal. “ and the first thing you say to me is you need your shit. ” the words aren’t as sharp as they are disappointingly soft. anyone else would’ve found the door shut in their face but this is klein. klein, who had once made catastrophe feel intoxicating. she exhales slowly through her nose before stepping aside, pulling the door open wider. “ go on. ”