#confessionals

“Ok, can I be honest with you?” You leaned forward. 

“Of course.” Lemon leaned forward, too. Being the driver, Tangerine tried his best not to pay attention to this weirdly philosophical discussion. 

“I feel like I’m an Arthur. I’m too paranoid about failing and I’m too obsessed with being perfect. I think being an Arthur is my downfall, though, because if I never fail, I’ll never grow as a person.” You said. Lemon snorted and shook his head. 

“Mind you, I believe you’re wrong. You may think you’re an Arthur because you’re only focusing on your negative qualities, but I think you’re an Edward. Wanna know why?” Lemon held up his finger as if this was a teaching moment. 

“Why?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“For fucks sake.” Tangerine sighed. 

“Because everyone can count on Edward. Just like Tangerine and I count on you all the time if we ever get in trouble. Edward is kind and reliable, just like you.” Lemon went on. 

“Aww, do you really mean that?” You beamed. 

“Cross my heart.” 

“Well, if you’re calling me an Edward, then I’m calling you an Oliver because you learn from your mistakes and are reliable and hard-working. You let it go to your head sometimes, but you take care of others, like that time you helped Tangerine when he had a hangover.” You said. 

“I thought we all agreed not to fucking bring that episode up again, you shit.” Tangerine gripped the steering wheel hard. 

“He’s acting like such a Gordon right now.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, Tangerine can act like a Gordon, but that’s only sometimes. I mean, he did pull you out of that job just now.” Lemon reminded you. He didn’t need to tell you twice. You had been sitting in the back of their car for the last hour with your arm in a makeshift sling since it got broken while you were in the middle of a high-stakes job. You were in over your head and had to call backup, enlisting the Twins since they owed you a favor. 

“I’m not a fucking Gordon.” Tangerine looked back at you through the rearview mirror. “You take it back right the fuck now.” 

“I will the fuck not.” You snorted. 

“I’ll kick you out of this car right now if you don’t take it back.” 

“Wow, you’d throw out an injured friend just because you don’t agree with your Thomas the Tank Engine character analysis?” You put your hand over your mouth in fake shock. 

“That’s cold, man.” Lemon shook his head. 

“I can’t believe you two. Like a bunch of children.” Tangerine shook his head. 

“Hey, you’re the one getting upset because you’re a Gordon.” You shrugged. 

“Stop calling me a Gordon, you twit.” 

“Wow, nice insult. Did your mom pick it out for you?” You shot back. 

“Don’t talk about our mom.” They both chimed. 

“Ok, my bad.” You raised your good arm. “How far away is this safe house?” 

“We’re almost there.” Tangerine grunted. You continued to chat with Lemon in the back seat, the sky darkening until it was pitch black out. The safe house you’d be staying at with them was out in the middle of nowhere. Lemon had fallen asleep by the time you arrived. You were nodding off, leaning on his shoulder for support. 

“C’mon, you two. Get up and get out.” Tangerine put the car in park, shaking his brother until he woke up. Lemon almost hit him out of reflex. Your eyes felt heavy as you pulled yourself out of the car. Lemon took the keys and went to open the house up, while Tangerine held the door for you. The house was small and dingy with only two beds. Lemon took one bed and passed out without even changing his clothes or taking his shoes off. He must’ve been tired after the whole rescuing thing. 

You set your bag down on the floor and looked around, not sure where to sleep. You set your jacket on the small couch when Tangerine grabbed it from you. 

“Bed, now.” He demanded like an authority figure. 

“Where are you gonna sleep, then?” You asked. 

“We’ll share.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave you to change.” He walked out of the house, lighting a cigarette to smoke outside. You changed out of your dirty, bloody clothes in the bathroom and walked over to the door. Lemon was out cold, so you didn’t have to worry about being too quiet. Tangerine was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, smoking. 

“Those will kill you.” You said quietly, sitting down next to him. 

“Your job will kill you first if you keep getting in over your head.” Tangerine scoffed. You were silent and he wondered if he hit a button he wasn’t supposed to touch. 

“Can I ask you something?” He finally said. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re usually so careful. Why’d you take a job you knew you couldn’t handle?” His voice was tense. Not judgmental, but you could feel his jaw tighten with every word he said. It felt like you were being scolded. 

A deep sigh left your mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said I get paranoid about being perfect. I didn’t want word to get out that I rejected a job because of the danger-factor. I just.  .  . I worry what other people will think of me.” You quietly admitted. 

“You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love. What people think about you should be the last thing on your mind.” Tangerine told you, looking up at the dark sky. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon. Honestly, you could barely see Tangerine in the dark. 

“I know.” You muttered. “I’m an assassin with some anxiety issues. How’d that work?” 

You looked at Tangerine and he looked at you and you both laughed quietly. 

“Did you mean what you said? That I’m a Gordon?” He asked. 

“Wow, my words really hurt you, didn’t they?” You smiled. 

“No fuckin’ way. I just don’t want to be compared to some shitty-”

“Why do you care so much about what I think? You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love.” You laughed, mimicking what he said. Tangerine glanced at you in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette. He raised his hand and cupped your cheek, letting his thumb run over your skin. You froze in place. 

“You know, I could get anything I want. I have the money, the skill, the charm. Yet, things always seem to be just out of reach. Lemon is lemon because our clients like to deal with me instead of him, no one likes lemons.” 

“That’s not true-”

“Let me finish.” He took a breath, waiting to see if you’d stay quiet. When you didn’t make a noise, he continued. 

“Lemon is lemon. You come waltzing in and you two become best fuckin’ friends. You like him more than you like me, it seems. Everytime I get closer to you.  .  .” Tangerine trailed off, pulling his hand from your face. Before he disappeared on you, you reached out and took his hand. You could feel his rings and watch under your fingers. 

“Stop.” You whispered. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you, love. It’s just how I feel.” He moved to get up. But your grip on his hand tightened. 

“I don’t.  .  . I didn’t mean stop like.  .  . just.  .  .” Your mind was moving so fast and your arm throbbed and you were at a loss for words. 

“I fucking like you, too, Tangerine. Look, Lemon is my friend and he’s easy to understand, but you? You’re like a closed book and I’m dying to get my fingers between the pages and open you up.” You admitted, then cringed at your metaphor. 

“You want to open me up? How morbid.” Tangerine suddenly laughed. 

“Yeah,” you said, tension easing away. “I want to dig into you like a bug and hibernate in your chest cavity.” 

“You’re sick.” He snorted. 

“And you love me.” It came out before you could stop it. Love. Love. Love. The air had that sudden tension again and you regretted it so much. You shouldn’t have said it. He was quiet. He was staring at you. Jesus, why did you have to say Love? 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ love you.” Tangerine said, barely audible, yet you heard it. You heard those words and you felt like your world expanded. You let go of his hand and leaned your head on his shoulder. Tangerine wrapped an arm around you, keeping you warm in the cool night air. 

“Hey, Tangerine?” 

“Yeah, love?” 

“I love you, too.”