#freckles writes

Her friend had graduated with the best grades imaginable and had gotten into a study program of physics which allowed him to still pursue his model career. Even if his father had tried forbidding him to apply for this study program, Adrien had finally discovered and embraced his rebellious side, apparently with turning eighteen and graduating to decide for his own life from then on.

He had applied anyway and gotten the place, for him to confront his father with a fully paid semester and negotiate a compromise then. He would pursue his model career without a complaint if his father would let him study physics.

To his friends’ surprise, he had gotten his way and Gabriel Agreste had agreed.

Alya chuckled, slightly shaking her head. Adrien drowned in physics homework, assignments and studies as well as model jobs and photoshoots, but at least he was happy.

Even more so since Marinette and he had finally found to each other.

Marinette had started a dual study program with an apprenticeship at Gabriel’s, and Alya suspected that they had gotten closer to each other through her helping out at his photoshoots. Or because she spent a lot of time with Gabriel since he had specifically requested Marinette as his personal apprentice, so Adrien had spent more time with her through that.

Either way, one day it had all gone very fast. Somehow a switch had flipped and they had been a couple, all lovey-dovey and impossible to part any more.

Alya lovingly rolled her eyes at her dorks of friends.

But more importantly, something that had surprised Paris a lot after all these years, Ladybug and Chat Noir had been seen together about two months later. Of course, it wasn’t that unusual that they were together but they had been seen… Together together.

As in, going out with each other.

Dating.

Alya hadn’t believed her luck at first but it had been a big headline the next day and the internet had practically exploded with images of them kissing, holding hands, beaming down to the paparazzi with his arm around her waist and both of them waving.

Most of these snapped pictures had been Alya originals, of course.

Full of excitement, she had emailed them to Nino, her boyfriend since the tenth grade, and had called him, making him open the files and listen to her rants about the two super lovebirds.

Alya sighed and buried her gloved fists deeper in her pockets.

Nino had left Paris about three months after graduation, to visit his family in Morocco. He had promised to stay there for about half a year, maybe longer.

It wasn’t that Alya didn’t wholeheartedly support his decision.

Seeing his family, helping them out, learning a bit more about his culture, this was important to him. He had a way closer bond to his home, to the land and the city he had been born in, than Alya had to Martinique. Sure, her grandparents spent most of the year across the ocean but he had actually been born in Morocco, until his parents had moved to Paris when he had been a toddler.

She knew all of this was important to him, to his family. She knew he wanted to do this and it was only half a year, it wasn’t the world.

Yet, she still missed him.

Especially after Adrien and Marinette had started dating, and when Ladybug and Chat Noir had been seen kissing, too, she had found herself longing for him. She missed his warm hugs in the cold season, she missed his smile and his laughter that didn’t sound filtered from the phone, she missed seeing his golden eyes without the pixels from videocalls and even though he had only been gone 3 months by now, she already missed him way too much.

3 months, 14 days and 5 hours. And 21 minutes.

And 36 seconds, not that she was counting. 38, 39, 40 seconds…

Alya groaned as she walked faster, kicking the snow in front of her boots and blowing away some snowflakes wanting to settle on her glasses. She wasn’t in the mood for sulking.

The day had been well, her study comrades had been cooperative and she had had a tasty lunch. The sky was filled with heavy snowflakes, the whole of Paris smelled like Christmas and she’d have a break for a few weeks. What else did she need?

Nino, was the answer. Nino, Nino is what you need.

She huffed and shook her head, stomping a few steps to warm up her legs again.

He’d be back in 2 and a half months, and then she’d be able to hug and kiss and embrace him again and she would tap his nose and listen to his cute laugh and she’d get lost in his golden eyes. Without pixels or a filtered sound accompanying his appearance.

As if he had read her thoughts, her phone rang through the ghostly silence of Paris streets, everything muffled by the newly fallen snow. She hurriedly pulled it out and was even quicker to press accept with her nose, since her gloves were in the way, and to press the phone against her ear with her hand buried in her sleeve, to keep some warmth at least.

“Nino?”

“Hey, beautiful.”, the beautiful drumming bass voice of her boyfriend spoke through the phone and she couldn’t suppress the wide grin from spreading on her lips.

“Hi! I love you!”

Nino laughed in response, his laugh sounding so much like she remembered it, deep and clear. Her heart skipped a beat.

“I love you, too.”, he responded, his voice light, “So, how’s the winter in Paris? Cold and grey?”

“Cold and white!”, she corrected him while she stuck her tongue out for him to hear, “It’s snowing right now, actually.”

He sighed wistfully and she could hear him shuffling around, apparently to look out of a window.

“Well, for us it’s pretty monotone. Warm during the day and cold during the night, pretty much a European Fall or even Late Summer. I wish we had snow.”

She could hear a grin in his voice but didn’t pay it any mind, too happy that she could hear him as the falling snow around her rustled and a small ice plate of a frozen puddle cracked beneath her boot when she walked over it.

They remained quiet for a little while before Alya began telling him about her studies and the rest of her day. He followed with his day and they spoke about his newest remix before getting silent again.

Silent night…

Alya looked up to watch the snow falling around a lantern, the rustling of the big snowflakes hitting the blanket of snow that had settled down to her feet almost deafening in the silence.

“… I miss you…”, she finally got out, a small lump building up in her throat.

Nino took a while before answering, his voice clear and hiding a small sympathetic smile, she could hear it.

“I miss you, too.”

She sighed as she realized she had stopped walking, watching the big snowflakes with watery eyes, and began trekking down the sidewalk again. She only had 5 more minutes left to Adrien’s and her shared apartment but she decided to walk a longer way and visit the bakery beforehand. Marinette had stayed living at home since she occasionally helped out in the bakery and because her parents couldn’t pay an apartment in the expensive renting hell that was Paris. Plus, she didn’t want to take the money Adrien offered to her, not feeling like it was right to live on his expenses. But since Adrien had made use of his newfound confidence, he had moved out with his big allowance (that he didn’t want and had managed to minimize but it was still a lot) and income as a professional model under contract.

And since Marinette didn’t want Adrien to live alone because she didn’t trust his cooking and cleaning abilities and since Alya also wanted to be undisturbed by the twins (as much as she loved them), she had agreed to move in with the blonde. It had been hard to teach him all the stuff she had gotten used to as a daughter in the Césaire household, but they had managed.

And maybe Nino would join their small shared apartment. They could use his twin sized bed in Alya’s bedroom, after all it was big enough, and live with them without problems.

“… Still there?”, Nino asked.

“Still here.”, Alya responded, not without a certain sadness in her voice. She just wanted to be with him, nothing more.

“What’re you doing at the moment?”, he asked, a few noises and a lot of shuffling around telling her that he apparently put on some shoes.

“I’ll just go see Marinette for a while, I’ve been a little lonely. And when I’m stuffed with hot cocoa and some baked goods, I’ll go home. Probably to arrest the Agreste and watch a movie with him.”

“Curl up in blankets?”, Nino suggested.

“Hell yes.”, she shot back with a laugh, the snow giving satisfying scrunches as she aimed for a few leaves and stepped on them.

“I’ll have to be jealous of Adrien soon. He’s been sending me way too many photos of you sleeping on his shoulder, you know?”, Nino mocked her, trying to sound angry but really, he wasn’t. She could hear the grin.

“Hey, I’m not at fault that he’s so comfy and warm. It should be illegal to be that cuddly, you know?”

Nino laughed louder and she heard a door clicking.

“I’m glad he’s so head over heels for Marinette, then. Otherwise I’d have to worry you could try and cheat on me.”

“Also not at fault that you’re not here to let me sleep on your shoulder…”, she mumbled, then she raised her voice to distract him from what she had just said, “Anyway! Heading somewhere?”

Her boyfriend hummed as another door clicked and she heard him walking down some stairs with his shoes, his voice soft and warm.

“Yep. I got an important date today. I’m a little nervous but I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to see me.”

Alya felt a tiny twinge of jealousy but she had learned to handle that. Nino was loyal, she knew he loved her and he had reassured her quite a few times already that she had nothing to fear. So, she just grinned, assuming it was one of his cousins, and giggled.

“Well then, have a lot of fun! I’m almost at Marinette’s, so I’ll call you later, okay?”

The voice on the other end chuckled and she felt her heart jump once again.

“Alright. We’ll talk later. I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you, too, dork. Maybe we can video-chat a little?”

She could practically hear the grin through the phone.

“We can certainly see each other later, yeah.”

With a grin, Alya told him she loved him once more, awaited his response and then hung up with the promise to see each other later this evening. She put her phone away and laughed to herself, once again hiding her cold chin in her scarf to warm up just a little bit before stepping into the sweet warmth of the Dupain-Cheng household.

She could already see the bakery with its ignited windows from afar, but that was pretty much it. The light and the silhouette, but not much more, since there was a thick wall of snowflakes between her and the familiar building.

Suddenly, something let her eyebrows furrow. A figure stepped out of the private entrance of the Dupain-Chengs, the door that was located behind the bakery which led up to the living area of the family.

It was only a few more meters and still, she couldn’t identify the visitor who just left.

Was it Adrien?

Impossible, the blonde had a photoshoot for an hour, still.

From the physique she’d place this young man around Adrien’s age and height, though.

Was it an old classmate?

She squinted her eyes as she came closer, now seeing more of the person’s features but still not enough to recognize anyone, especially since they were wearing a red woolen beanie and a familiar green scarf that Alya swore she had seen before.

She stepped closer and suddenly stopped dead in the snow, her eyes wide open and her jaw falling as the person turned towards her, now merely 5 meters away from where she stood.

Instead of the 2.399 kilometers that should’ve been between them.

“… Nino?”

The figure in front of her spread their arms open wide and she finally recognized the bright smile of her boyfriend, his white teeth shining against his even darker skin since he apparently got a tan in Morocco.

Tears formed in her eyes as she took the last quick steps to jump, throw her arms around his neck and to bury her nose in his hat, greedily breathing in his wonderful scent that she had missed so dearly over the past few months.

He lifted her up with a tight grip around her waist, his arms locked around her in a wonderful, warm embrace. Her legs went up as he leant back and she sniffled lightly, feeling tears building up in her eyes.

She didn’t even notice how he gently pulled her inside, past a grinning Marinette and into the warm stairwell. She also wasn’t aware of him pulling the snowed in scarf aside or him beginning to open her jacket to warm up.

All she felt were his arms around her once again and his lips pressing to her forehead, as well as his gentle voice drumming against her ear. She sighed against his scarf, letting her tears flow freely as she tightly hugged him, never letting go.

At some point he gently pried her arms off, to get her and himself out of the jacket, but she didn’t leave him a lot of time before already wrapping her arms around his waist again, sniffling in his embrace and cherishing the warmth that his chest emanated.

He was here again, he was with her and she was hugging him and she wouldn’t let him go as easily as she had let him go back in summer.

Nino was hers now.

“… Alya?”, he finally spoke to her, softly cradling her head and making her blink her tears away to look at him. He grinned brightly, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Dork… Idiot… Dingus…”, she accused him, softly pushing against his chest with every insult that they both knew she didn’t mean, “… Not telling me… Just flying over… Bad, bad boyfriend…”

He laughed brightly, without anything filtering his voice, and she fought against a new surge of tears.

“I love you.”, he said warmly, his golden eyes capturing hers in a steady, amused gaze. Entirely without pixels.

“… I love you, too.”, she replied, and finally pulled him down for a desperate and long-awaited kiss, her lips pressing against his with an urgent need that was reflected in her whole body as she melted against him.

Nino chuckled against her and his warm breath brushed over her chin. She pulled him closer and nudged his nose to animate him to kiss her back, which he did, chastely but still.

“… Adrien’s gonna sleep here tonight…”, Nino slowly mumbled past their kisses, “We’re gonna have the apartment to us.”

Alya grinned.

“Good… I’ve got some plans…”

Finally, after a long embrace and a few more kisses, Alya parted from Nino.

“Wait! Since when are you here? And did everyone know except for me?! How long was this planned?! And… How long will you stay…?”

Nino merely laughed at her flood of questions, leaning his forehead against hers and stealing another little peck.

“It’s pretty hard to surprise you so Adrien offered to me to try anyway. He paid the flights as a Christmas gift to us.”

Alya giggled, still feeling tears in her eyes.

“Bet that he just wants you to fall asleep on his shoulder now?”

It was obvious that she was in pain. She couldn’t hide it, though he could see she desperately wanted to, tried to. Her arms curled around herself, protecting her body where she huddled on their Head Office couch. Her normally tidy, braided hair was loose and knotted, half covering the bruise he could see forming on her jaw. 

The worst of it was, she wouldn’t even tell him what happened. 

“Evans.” James swiped a hand through his hair, hoping she was at least too distressed, though she claimed otherwise, to chastise him for it. “Let me help you.” 

Her head was already shaking before he’d even got the words out. “No.” 

“Why?” He moved closer now, dropping to his knees in front of her. His hand landed on her knee, and he watched her eyes flick to it, but she didn’t tell him to remove it. It gave him the courage to press. “Lily, let me help you.” 

Her brow crinkled, but even that seemed to cause her pain as the frown quickly gave way to a wince. “I can’t. You can’t.” 

“Let me try.” Frustrated with his inability to see her face properly, James brushed her hair back, trying not to let his hand shake when he saw the telltale black curse lines running across her cheek. He gritted his teeth, preferring to grind them to dust than do anything that would make him push her away. 

She saw through him, clearly, instantly. “James,” Lily sighed, and his heart clenched at the sound of his name on her lips. “I promise, I’m okay.” 

Having never let his hand fall, his palm now cupped her face, taking great care to avoid the bruises and marks leftover from her post-rounds duel. “I never took you for a liar, Evans.” 

Her laugh was weak, but it made his heart sing. It also made him bold. Not removing his hold, James used his other hand to remove his wand from his pocket and rest it gently against Lily’s stomach. But he waited for her small nod of acquiescence before casting several healing spells. 

It was guesswork, calculated, but guesswork nonetheless, given she wouldn’t admit to being hurt, let alone what was actually wrong. But he couldn’t deny the flood of relief and gratitude at his misspent youth when they appeared to work. Lily finally began to unfold her body, straightening without a grimace. The bruises slowly dissipated and the curse lines receded. 

James felt like he could finally breathe again. 

It was almost a pity the air was pulled straight back out of his lungs at the feel of Lily’s lips on his skin. She’d tilted her head in his hand, just enough to plant a soft, purposeful kiss in the middle of his palm. Her green eyes- slowly starting to sparkle again after the terrifyingly dullness they’d held earlier- didn’t leave his as she pulled away. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not,” Lily insisted, and he could tell by the curve of her lips she too was noting the echo of their earlier words. “It’s not nothing.” Her fingers sought his, closing over where they still rested on her lap, still clasping his wand. She squeezed gently. “Really, James. Thank you.” 

She snorted despite herself. “Sounds about right. But seriously. Even Marlene hasn’t-” 

“Because I know you, Evans.” James leant back in the seat, his broad shoulder brushing and then resting against her arm as he did so.

Lily tried to ignore the warmth that flooded her veins when he spoke, tried to ignore the heat racing down her arm at his touch. “I think it was luck.” 

“Nah.” He sounded so confident, so sure. She envied him. “I knew you’d be here.” 

Her eyes finally tore from where they’d been focused out in front, focused on the nothingness that was the middle of the Quidditch Pitch in the rapidly fading light. She turned to face James, raising her eyebrow in what she hoped was haughty disbelief, instead of the rush of feelings she’d rather not name. 

James, seemingly unperturbed by her expression, reached out, tucking a wayward strand of hair back behind Lily’s ear, mouth curving upwards as he did so. He seemed softer, gentler, tender even - if a seventeen year old boy could ever be called such a thing. 

“I know you, Evans. I know how you react when it all starts to get too much. When the walls start closing in with the opinions, the words, the pressure and the slights of others. When you feel like you don’t have anywhere to go, anything you can do, when you feel like you’re helpless against the relentless tide of just, well, shit, that you have to go through daily, that the rest of us don’t.” 

“Stop.” It came as a desperate request, a plea. She’d never felt more seen, and she’d never hated it so much. 

He didn’t. But he did take her hand, twining his fingers with hers, gripping them in a way that couldn’t not be comforting, stroking his thumb over her knuckles as he continued. “I know the look on your face when you desperately want to escape. When you want space and time and to feel like you’re free of all the weight and responsibility you pile on yourself.” He huffed a laugh, squeezing her hand within his. “And where is there more space, more freedom, than here?” 

Her hand gripped his tighter and Lily worked hard to control her breathing from coming out like a sob. He’d read her like a book she hadn’t known she was writing. It was too much. It was, just, all too much. So instead of thanking him, instead of appreciating him, she pushed back. 

“If you knew I wanted freedom, space… then why are you here?” 

James didn’t seem to mind her comment. At least, he didn’t show any offence outwardly. Instead his smile turned to the more customary trademark smirk as he used his grip on her to pull her closer, until she was leaning into his side. 

“Because I knew just as much as you needed space, you also needed not to feel alone.” 

She gave in, resting her temple on his shoulder, relishing the comforting weight of his head as it rested against the crown of hers. “Thank you.” 

*****

“Honestly, Evans, you need to be taller. We’re going to lose you in this crush.” 

Lily turned, finding the speaker of the mocking words so close behind her she almost ran into him, a quick hand to his chest preventing the collison. “Excuse you, my height is perfectly adequate, thank you very much.” 

James grinned, a smile that was so much better than the smirk he’d worn when they were younger. “Nothing, absolutely nothing about you could be described as adequate, Evans.” 

She fought the urge to blush, to lower her eyes. He said that type of thing so easily, yet so sincerely. It was all a bit much sometimes. 

Most of the time. 

“Regardless,” she chose the path of avoidance, refusing to acknowledge the quirk that turned his lips back towards his old teasing expression, “my height is not the problem here.” Her arm swept back, encompassing the heaving crowd that was the area in front of the Three Broomsticks bar at lunch time on the last Hogsmeade Saturday before Christmas. “It’s this madness.” 

James looked briefly away, taking in the muddle of students, regular patrons and tourists come to enjoy the splendour of the picturesque wizarding village in full festive spirit. “That is definitely accurate.” 

“I’ve made no headway into the crowd,” she complained. When James turned back with a raised eyebrow, her nostrils flared unconsciously. “Don’t say it's because I’m not tall enough.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the boy who had grown several inches practically overnight to become a man in front of her very eyes said wisely. “But how about I see if I can help?” 

“Only if you let me pay this time.” Lily stepped sideways, allowing James to move past her and attempt to push and shove his way through the crowd. 

He snorted as he moved forward. “As if.” 

She would have retorted, would have protested, would have insisted, given he’d bought her every butterbeer Lily had had this year under falser and falser pretences, only she couldn’t. 

As James came alongside her, his hand caught against hers. In the first instant she thought it was an accident, a coincidence, a mistake. But then he didn’t move away, his skin gliding along hers, that heat she’d felt a month earlier never more present than it was right then. It sent those same sparks, raising the hair along her forearm, thankfully hidden by her woollen holiday themed sweater. 

His little finger caught against hers. Again, she waited for him to remove it, sure it was purposeful, intentional. Yet another moment she was wrong about. Because he didn’t let go. If anything, the curl of his finger tightened his grip on Lily’s. James tugged, gentle enough given the small surface area of their link, but strong enough that she was pulled into motion, falling into place just behind his tall frame. 

They moved through the crowd effortlessly, frustratingly given the fruitless ten minutes Lily had spent before James’ arrival on the scene. His stature, his popularity, his notoriety, all of it gave him the gravitas that made him the envy of many of their peers, and was undeniably effective. It got them to the front of the crowd, where James leaned one elbow against the bar, catching the eye of Rosmerta with equally impressive ease to order their drinks, and that of their mates.

“I’ve got-” she huffed as he placed a handful of coins on the bar, ignoring her clear reach for her purse. “I was going to get these.” 

“Evans,” James’ voice was teasing, light, as if she was making one of her terrible punny jokes, the likes of which he'd never quite found funny but seemed to tolerate because of his fondness for her. 

Another tug on her pinky pulled her forward, bringing Lily in front of James now, his broad shoulders protecting her from the push and pull on the unruly crowd. She didn’t say anything more. James didn’t either. 

But neither of them let go

******

The next move was hers. 

It had to be really. 

Lily Evans was a lot of things, but shy had never been one of them. And she wasn’t the type to wait around. 

And he needed her. She could tell. 

James needed her. 

She’d watched the others try. Peter had tried distraction. Exploding Snap, Wizard’s chest, a rousing game of Basilisks and Brooms, without absolutely no engagement. Remus had tried reassurance, using reason and truth to remind James of all the work he had put in, all the preparation, all the training and drills and planning. He hadn’t bought it for a second. Sirius had tried mischief, of course he had, offering dungbombs, pranks and marauder-worthy shenanigans. James had shaken him off, stared into the fire in front of him, brooding. 

He needed her. 

How to help him, Lily had really no idea. She’d never paid attention enough in the past to notice how nervous he got before a Quidditch final, never cared enough to pay attention. She cared now. And she wanted to help now. 

She needed to help him. 

Every inch of James screamed tension when Lily took a seat next to him on the couch. Such was his sullen mood that no one else had dared to share the space closest to the fire with the Quidditch Captain. His hands scrubbed relentlessly at his face, his knee jerked in a statico beat, his body hunched forward, though she knew he couldn’t be cold. If his face had been visible, the lines of worry, fatigue and stress would have appeared etched across it. 

For the first time in a long time, James didn’t react to her presence. He gave no sign that he knew it was her, that he knew anyone had sat next to him, but he had to know. Yet, he did nothing to acknowledge her. 

Lily considered her options. Crossed off most of them pretty quickly as weak, pathetic, useless. Went with the one that felt the most appropriate, the most right. 

Moving slowly, how one would move if they didn’t want to startle a deer in the forest, she reached for his face. Both hands slid along James’ arm, tracing the defined muscles, the tanned skin until she reached his wrist. Careful fingers curled around it, pulling until he finally allowed it to come free from his face and for Lily to pull it toward her. She wasted no time, bringing his hand to her lap, cradling it in both hands. 

He still didn’t make a move of his own. He allowed his hand to be manipulated by her, his fingers curling slightly under the pressure of hers. Lily found herself holding her breath, wondering, doubting, fearing what his response might be. 

But Gryffindor she’d been sorted, and a lion she most definitely was. 

The worry was for nought. The glide of her fingers up James’ palms, her fingernails scraping, scratching gently was met with the opening of his hand. His fingers spread wide, allowing hers to intermingle and weave between them. She gripped, the pads of each digit pressing into each knuckle. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch when he returned the hold with equal attention. 

As Lily kept her eyes focused on their connection, her thumb stroked back and forth in a way she hoped James found soothing.  Words didn’t come, but she tried not to worry about that. Instead she paid attention to him, to every part of him, trying to be enough. 

It wasn’t quick, the change, It took far longer than she would have liked. The fire burnt down in the grate, the candles melted low in their sconces, most of their housemates retired for the evening. If she hadn’t attuned herself to James, she might have missed it. 

His knee, vibrating in anxiety, settled into a hum, then a march, before stilling completely. His other arm dropped, resting on his thigh, at first playing mindlessly with the crease in his trousers, but eventually coming to rest as well. And as time went on, his back unwinding, his shoulders dropping, until he leaned back into the couch, head still down but now relaxed and tranquil.

His words were quiet, when they finally came. 

“Thank you.” 

She didn’t reply, except for another squeeze of her hand in his. 

****

It became the norm soon after. 

At first it happened when there was no one around. Sitting by the fire, walking together on patrols, leading each other through corridors and crowds. Hands twisted, fingers mingling, teasing, playing, comforting. They never really talked about it, beyond looks of offer and expectation, secret smiles of pleasure and peace when the other acquiesced. It was just for them, for a while, just a bubble of comfort and progress and something that wasn’t defined, wasn’t explainable, but didn’t need to be to make her feel good. 

Lily began to know his hands better than she knew his own. Each callous on each finger, the rough texture of the tips, the edges of his nails. What it felt like when he was tired, when he was worried, when he was pleased. She recognised the tremors that shook from his arm to hers when he laughed so hard it rocked his whole body. She came to know, to expect, the heat that came from him holding her, the way it flushed her body, head to toe, sent her senses singing, her spine tingling, her heart a flutter. 

One day, walking with their friends to Hogsmeade in the fresh spring air, James reached for her hand. It was such a common occurrence, a frequent gesture by then, that Lily thought nothing of it. She tickled his palm before threading their hands together, smiling herself when he gave a delicious squeeze. Neither missed a step, broke a stride, and both continued on, happy in their private moment. 

It was the choking sound from Sirius behind them that reminded them they were in public. The stifled gasp from Mary, the delighted laugh from Marlene. The whispers, the murmurs, the looks, the pointing from their classmates and other students who were delighting in their choice of opting to walk rather than go by carriage to the town, and spotting this brilliant piece of gossip. 

Lily looked up, finding hazel eyes waiting for her, a questioning look in his eyes. He hadn’t let go, if anything, he gripped her tighter, yet not painful, more possessive, more reassuring. She let her eyebrows lift, sending her own ask, while brushing her thumb along his. Her head inclined, as if to offer the choice as his, hers already happily made. 

Instead, he stepped closer, his shoulder knocking into hers, their joined hands bumping back forth between them. His head tilted, mouth coming closer to hers, his speech for her and her alone. “Alright, Evans?”

Words weren’t needed. Not for this.