#rc fics

And the scent only seems to grow stronger? Maybe she sprayed it too much.

But why does the touch of her makeup artist feel different? More delicate and lighter?

Evelyn shudders when a familiar kiss lands on her forehead, and her eyes open, only to find a smiling Claire behind her, a makeup brush in her hand.

And there she is, the embodiment of strawberries, roses and cherries. Her Claire.

"Is this a dream?"

"The best dream you'll ever have, babe."

Claire gives her a playful wink, and a subtle pinch on her shoulders, confirming she's really there, with her.

Evelyn practically pounces on her wife, tackling her in a hug, with Claire gladly reciprocating the gesture, locking her lips in a frenzied kiss -- to the point they do not know where one's lip-gloss ends and the other's lipstick begins. Claire, as sly as ever, swiftly sweeps her out of the dressing room, and onto the darker halls, unexplored by the crew, a blind spot away from the cameras. Enough is enough, it's been too long since she held her in her arms, since she felt her warmth.

"Claire, honey, the show's about to star-"

"Nuh-uh. Let me appreciate my lovely wife."

Holding her by the shoulders, Claire takes a moment to take her in. Tired eyes, bags obscured by the makeup, but still seeming lovely as ever. Those eyes, still holding love and appreciation for her, the same as years ago, or maybe more.

"You owe me a dance…. or do I-?"

She twirls Evelyn in her arms, enjoying her flexibility when she dips her. Dance is their love language, and they revel in it.

"-I don't remember, but no time's good as now..", Claire's fingers drum across her collarbone, reaching her arm to grip it, spinning her around to face her.

"You'll never change, do you? Always making me late.."

Their forehead rest against each other, hands finding purchase on each other's backs. Hips sway to the beat of the echoed music from the rehearsal halls, a reminisce of them sneaking around in their younger days to meet up in the backstages. They bump against some props, giggle, and move to a wider area, their dance steps a total chaos, but still in sync with each other.

"Goodness, We're out of beat!"

"Well, you still make my heart beat fast, so that's fine. We're having fun!"

Is it tango? Contemporary? Freestyle? Who cares? Who cares about the genre when you have the love of your life in your arms?

"Always a vision, aren't you?"

"A vision, just for you."

"Ah, I missed you so much, babe.", Claire sighs, closing her eyes to feel this moment, this precious moment, stolen from the rush and bustles of life. A moment perfectly sealed, just for them both. Something no one can steal from them.

"You've already told me that."

"Doesn’t make it any less true. And I'll keep telling you until you come back home."

"Honey, I'll never get tired of listening to you. Trust me, once the shoot is over, I’ll take the earliest flight home.."

Keeping her head on Evelyn's shoulders, Claire mumbles, feigning jealousy, just for teasing her. "Baabe, I'm so jealous of people who can see you, face to face, everyday.."

In turn, she earns a laugh from Evelyn, who cups Claire's cheek and makes her face her. “We’re literally married, Claire! We have a baby together!"

"Yeah, but every week, I see contestants call you their favourite judge, which, by the way, is the correct opinion. You're the best damn judge they can ever have! I see you dance with others on the tv, while you've never danced with your own wife..", Her lips pucker in a pout, which are kissed by Evelyn, maybe that’s what she was aiming for!

"Hm, is it so? I recall someone being so desperate for a honeymoon that she didn't even wait for the reception. We could have our first dance there!"

"Oh, it must be you.. I don't remember being THAT desperate."

"Claire..!" Evelyn rolls her eyes at her banter, knowing jolly well that Claire was ready to jet set go the moment they left the altar, hand in hand, their dresses flowing in the spring air. She didn't care for parties or reception. She just wanted to see the world with her newlywed wife.

"Haaa, okay, babe. Yeah, it was me. Can you blame me though? I just wanted to steal you, all for myself. Away from everyone.."

...

<Can I go where you go?>

<Can we always, be this close?>

<..Take me home, you're my lover..>

And as if on cue, the music changes, humming from the halls, the lyrics embracing them to celebrate their moment of respite. Now it's Evelyn's turn to dip Claire, and pull her back up until she's pressed to her. She gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her lover's ear, and smiles softly, peppering kisses all over her pretty face, especially near her lovely eyes, where the skin crinkles every time she laughs.

"And is my wife getting sappy all of a sudden?"

"Nope, just checking if the lipstick is transfer proof."

~

Their respite, however, is short lived. They soon hear the frantic calls of her makeup artist, searching for Evelyn everywhere.

"Evelyn, ma'am? Please, I cannot give you more time! The shoot is about to start, and they're calling for you!"

~

Sighs of defeat escape both women, and Claire clings onto Evelyn like a cuddly bear, not letting her go. "Baaabee, not so soon. Please. Five more minutes? Please?"

Evelyn embraces her, rubbing her back in circles, unwilling to let go of her too. She is torn between professionalism and love, but hey! She's been professional enough all these months. What's one day in front of all those months?"... Fine. Just because you requested. Five more minutes."

He came up to her like a glass of champagne, handed off to her as a waiter passed by. A slight of hand that ended with his shoulder pressed against hers as they made it to the shore. "It feels like my toes are gonna fall off," She complained as she on the course sand. "They wouldn't hurt so much if you hadn't danced so much." He chided, "I didn't dance that much, it's just cold." With a frown and a roll of his eyes the man draped his jacket across her shoulders before he sat beside her in the sand, his arm pressed up against hers once again.

She watched the waves crash upon the sharp rocks of the coast. He parted his lips slightly, gripping at the glasses he had brought from the party tightly as he watched the breeze tug at her curls.

They fell into 'before' like it was a old, well loved blanket— teasing and chatting once more.

From this distance the party happening up on the hill didn't seem as loud as it truly was. She was sure, that up on that the scene they had left continued on as if they hadn't. That the garden, still lit with string lights still bathed the grounds, that the band played another over-sung tune, the couples still danced, and the oppressive grief that hid behind each of these things clung to them, still. He had met her with raised brows before he followed her here.

The beach was lit too, a bonfire off to the distant side of them where a small group had gathered. "That much? you hardly sat down all night." She looked at him from the corner of her eyes as she reached down to take off her heels. "Why, does it bother you? Were you waiting for a turn?" she teased with a smile that showed her intoxication. At once his flushed face hardened, his brows meeting and a small pout on his lips.

"No." "No it doesn't bother you or no you weren't waiting?" She asked, knees to her chest she rubbed her tired feet, grinning at him in such a way that made his heart jump to his throat. His tongue, loosened and dumbed by the drinks he had throughout the night spoke before his mind could think it through. "I wasn't waiting." She blinked, her eyes dropping to his lips and lingered there for a moment too long before they shifted to the glasses he held before she reached out and grabbed one.

The music could be heard still, carried by the wind in fragmented spurts. "I was," she said, so softly it might’ve been the waves that tugged at the shore. The man raised his brows, a small suspicious smile tugged at his lips. "You were?" he asked, pausing for a moment to let an intoxicated grin break before clumsily covering what he had shown. "Was he that bad of a dancer?" Satisfaction bled from his tone and pulled the a laugh from her lips, it sent small vibrations through him, the pleasant sound melting into the sounds of the world around them.

Her hair tickled him as it was played by the wind. Somewhere within his dull mind, he realized he was slow— too slow for the moment. Too slow to pick up on the flash within her eyes where the idea hit her. No, he was distracted by the breeze that carried the salt of the sea towards them. It misted their faces and froze their lips. So when she shifted against him and found his hand within the sand he did not realize it before he looked to her, to find them half lidded and hazy.

"He wasn't bad," She said at last, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger. He gave a displeased frown and raised a brow. "Right, he was so good you had to run down the hill." A small crab crawled across his foot as she dug her toes deeper into the sand.

She rested her head against her shoulder and smiled. It was something in the flush of his skin and the way his lips curled that dug into her skin with such a wicked desire, as if he too wished for her to make him cry out to her, Please, I can't take anymore. It spurred her forward to push him some more. "Maybe I just wanted to steal you away," He gave an affronted expression and a dismissive little scoff before answering "That's even more concerning, just how drunk are you?" Once more, she laughed, and he was sure his heart could be felt through the pads of his fingers.

If he could've collected his thoughts well enough for this to make sense, he would've reconciled it long before, but He was too dulled, by the moonlight upon the soft skin exposed by her dress, the stars upon the water, the drink in his full glass. It took too long.

"Less drunk than you." She bragged, though it wasn't much of an accomplishment. "No way, You're so drunk," he said, watching the grin widen across her stained lips. "Me? You had gotten two drinks for yourself before we came here!" He shifted his eyes to the side, shrugging his shoulders softly. Neither one noticed how they had both slowly leaned closer towards each other until their noses touched.

Now. Now, he was aware even in this state he saw what he had missed, the sign on the door he hadn't seen before, dangling there between her teeth. He squinted at her, his lifting his finger to let hers in. He'd swear he didn't mean it later— the way he pushed that last bit forward, meeting her lips in a clumsy haste— But the excuses hadn't come to him yet, and she hadn't parted her lips to ask for them. They leaned into each other, her free hand coming to pull at his hair as she bore into him.

At the end, You'll come to find that all these fears were justified, that you'll be left behind and you'll smile and wave as it happens.

He kissed her like he was reaching for a flame, his brows tented and his shoulders tensed. It made her push towards him still, pulling him closer to her until his jacket fell from her shoulders as she leaned forward, pressing her chest against his. He let go the glass he held, letting it wet the sand in favor of trailing his hand up her side, resting it in the dip of her waist as they kissed. His hand fit nicely where it sat, and hers dropped to his jaw. She smelt like his cologne and the sea. She was surprised that she hadn't had to convince him much to touch her, but in truth they had both been surprising.

It was the courage that flavored their mouths that didn't allow them to pull away, surely it must've been the moonlight.

They looked something like a fire now, knelt on the sand and tangled together. He reached for her face, and she had pressed her palm against the side of his and the other, that had only now let go of his now ruffled his hair.

She moved, pushing him to sit back. He let out a small gasp into her mouth before she settled onto his lap, her long dress riding up to her thighs at the moment. His hair was soft, and he smelt of aftershave, spices and mandarin. She rather liked it, the way the mandarin stuck to him the most. He broke away, hearts hammering and breathless. "Lavender." he started, breaking mid-way to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing. "We should go back." He warned in a slurred tone that seemed less stern and more pleading.

"It's just a kiss, we'll forget about it in the morning, right?" She tugged at the open collar of his shirt. He shuddered as her long nail scraped the side of his neck.

 "Right…" He braced himself against the sand, his hand propping him up as they caught their breath. She watched him with that same twisted amusement as his face hardened, looking looked down at him with that wicked grin.  "Then it's fine, it doesn’t count if it’s with a friend,” she reasoned

"It counts more,” “Oh please, everyone kisses their friends,” “I don’t.” She raised her brows and glanced down at his lips with a grin on her lips that only seemed to show her horns.

“That’s because you don’t have a lot of them,” "Or maybe it's that you’re incorrigible when drunk and I'm just the one closest to you.” She didn't take offense to his words, or point out that it was him that kissed her and his hand that pushed her into his chest, she only smiled. before she leaned forward, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses across the flushed man's bobbing throat. His hand gripped her ass, his fingers bunching the excess fabric just that much tighter whenever her kiss traveled someplace new.

"You're no different." She whispered into his heated skin. No, truly he was likely worse. He stopped neither his wandering hand or her movements, letting his head fall back as he closed his eyes, his palm coming to cup the bottom of her breast, his thumb landing on the center as he held her in place.

They fell short of falling in love before— for reasons they couldn't name even sober and in truth they never really tried to before.

She nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, only reaching the forth button when he grabbed hold of her wrist, staring at her with a pleasure-dulled sternness in his gaze.

"I’m not going to fuck you on a public beach while you’re drunk, Lavender.” His voice was so stern that it broke the woman’s focus on his shirt and forced her eyes to roll.

"Who said anything about that?" She chided, her hand sliding up his stomach to touch the warm pale skin she had newly exposed. His brows did not soften when he shuddered slightly or did he give into her will as he tended to do. He let a small, proud smile break onto his lips when she looked at him in approval, her hand flat against his chest but she caught the arrogant comment before it left his tongue, leaning down to meet him again, Her curls draped over their faces as her lips found his again as if the world would stop should they pull apart.

So they didn't.

Not when he fell against the sand, bringing her to lay against him, nor when the music no longer caught the wind, at some point, they simply fell asleep, her head on his arm and her face in his chest, his lips pressed against her hairline and his jacket draped over her.

It was the painful numbness in his arm that stirred him awake, shifting a bit only to hear a soft sound in response. Sober now, he opened his eyes the sun upon her skin, and for a moment— a very brief moment he watched her sleep peacefully within his arms that was interrupted when his brain had finally got home from it's vacation.

He grabbed hold of her shoulder and shook her softly his eyes on the sun that had already risen above the horizon. "Fuck, Fuck! Lavender get up!" At first she moved closer into him, letting out a groan into his chest. "Lavender, come on." he urged, pushing her off of him so that she could see.

"Christ, What do you want?" she snapped, opening her eyes to him. She took in his appearance for a moment as he scrambled to gather their things. "We stayed out?" "Obviously." She had a strange, open-mouthed astonished smile on her lips as she found her heels in the sand.

He dug through his pockets for his things before he glanced at her blistered feet and scowled. "Don't put those back on." He said, pulling out his dead phone before putting it back in his pocket. "And what are you so happy about? We're lucky the sheriff didn't catch us." "Oh please, it's no big deal." she said, watching as he buttoned his shirt back up. She stood, coming up to him and straightening his collar. He frowned once more before he spotted a small purple mark on her neck but didn't mention it. He just kept standing before her stiffly, looking down at her as he kept his hands firmly to his side as if he was afraid they'd reach out on their own.

"Do your feet still hurt?" he asked, brows raised as he watched her stand on the sides of them. "A little." He rolled his eyes and knelt down rather suddenly.

"I'll carry you, Mrs. Fairchild is probably worried about you." "Probably not." she muttered, glancing up at the house on the hill, but getting onto his back none the less. He took in a sharp breath when her arms came to hook around his shoulders but true to his word he pretended as if it hadn't happened, making his way across the shifting sands as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Does your phone have any charge?" He asked as he made it to the road. "I didn't bring it, I have my mirror if you want it." He frowned, turning his head to look at her reproachfully. "You wanted to leave at night and didn't bring your phone?" she pulled out her mirror, holding it up for him before he had turned his head back to see. "Well you took your phone and I took you, so that counts for something." He squinted at her but still his eyes and the flush on the tops of his ears betrayed him.

When he turned to face the road he was met with his horrible reflection, his hair ruffled and a dark necklace she had gifted him peaking up even above his collar.

"Jesus Christ are you part bear? What the fuck." He exclaimed in shock. The laughter that followed sounded to him like his favorite song. The breeze pushed against them, as if trying to keep them at the beach, to stay within the moment where they were within each others arms.

"You told me to." He stilled for a moment, his brows coming together as he tried to remember the lie. "Will it make things hard for you?" she asked innocently, "When have you cared about that?" "Well, I'll stop if that's the tone I get." it earned an amused 'ha' as the man continued on up hill. Her heels knocked against his chest as they walked, hooked on her two middle fingers as she held their glasses in her other hand.

They continued, catching each others eyes every once and while before his hands would grip her leg tighter and the beating of his heart would grow too reckless against the side of her ribcage.

Heavy. It was so heavy, the air, the weight upon her chest, the thoughts. It was as if they were all a large wooden chest that sat upon her ribs, and slowly it was filled more and more, and slowly, she was crushed. 

She’d have to answer, soon enough, but Inside, curled up in blankets as she stared ahead blankly at the wall, she could wait just a while longer. The room smelled of salt and copper and her sheets smelled of sweat. The curtain’s drawn and the door locked, there was no sound that escaped the dark room. The shadows on the walls spelled out a truth she feared most of all; She was alone. 

Don't you understand? there is no one coming for you.

There was never anyone at the end of the tunnel, no one sitting out on the steps in the cold waiting for you to return, there was never anyone. There never will be.

This is it, you’re alone. 

In the end, You’re only just the sword, and when the battle’s done, all those who fought to hold you will lay you down, and you’ll be alone once again.

You’ll always be alone, that’s what you were meant for. There’s no one looking for you, there’s not anyone who could. No one even knows your name, there's no posters because they’ve stolen your face, there’s nothing you’re nothing— and you’re alone.

She almost shivered as the wind called her name, as it came to drag her away, it yanked at her ankles and dug into her flesh, and as it did she thrashed about, screaming out as it mocked her, it hadn’t stopped since she stepped into that basement, the basement where the mold and rot clung to every surface there, where it lingered in the air and made it grainy and stale so much so that with every breath you took it was like you breathed in sawdust, She still smelt the place, she still felt the damp wooden floor  –that only seemed to help the stench of the place–  sink in just a touch and let out a wet squishing noise with each step taken. 

Her chest heaved, and her hands trembled, and despite herself she rose to her feet, leaving the safety of her room, of her blankets to roam the halls like a listless spirit. Each step she took she replayed the events. 

David kept an eye on her, glancing back at her from time to time to find her tensed, as if she was a rubberband pulled as tight as could be. It was clear he thought her strange but said nothing of it, telling her to stay in the living room that unsettled her just as much, a mercy she hadn’t realized he had given until she walked down the uneven steps, her eyes jumping around, her flashlight tight in her hands, knuckles white, shoulders hunched.

“You can go back up.” he offered again. “No, I’m fine.” she repeated once more. “I’ll be fine on my own.” he tried. “I’m not staying up there by myself.” she mumbled, quickening her pace to come up beside him. He scanned the shelves and anything laid about on the floor, be it the boxes, furniture, papers, or discarded objects that were left scattered about, as they crept closer the stronger a rotten, nauseating smell became until it engulfed the surrounding area in its foul stench.  

“David.” she called, her hand grabbing hold of his arm, “look.” she instructed, pointing towards the corner where a thick, jelly-like substance leaked steadily from the wall, it was almost like blood, but too thick- too dark, and though the smell was similar to that metallic twang, it spelled more like rotten flesh than it did like pennies. 

“You stay here.” he said, shining his light in the direction, walking forward slowly only to hear a low moan, but the floor held firm.

Audrey. Came a voice that was far too close, it sounded amused, and violent, hungry. As David pushed a shelf and found a red painted door, the thick dust dug it’s claws into her, wrapping around her wrist as it’s hot, putrid breath beat against her cheek. He lifted up the heavy metal lock before he let it fall, and the sound of it hitting the door brought her back. Like hypnosis, like the reaper tugging her by her hair, she squirmed about and yet, she remained, frozen still where she had been standing, but she was gone. A gnarly key that still was caked in a dried rusty like crust clanked onto the floor, as if the wind tossed them a bone and laughed. 

Go on and open it, if you’re so keen. It mocked.

David casted a weary glance at the key then to the evaluator and then to the door before he took a cautious step forward. “Audrey, go up stairs.” he instructed, but she stayed, frozen in place as the door moved, as if someone was beating very hard against it. He didn’t seem to notice it, the pulse. But it beat nonetheless.

“It’s bleeding.” she said, not taking her eyes from the door, Her eyes glazed over her mouth fell open, her heavy flashlight dropping with a metallic clank, it sent once settled dust flying into the air and david’s steps to quicken, It only took that beat for him to bridge the distance and come to her, taking her hand in his in an instant. Gone, somewhere within herself where he was not allowed, and so he waited, holding her hand as he led her from the door. 

But trouble never lets you leave, does it? A thud and the door was open, the lock nowhere to be found. They paused, looking at the door from halfway across the room.  Oh it begged for them to look inside the room, to come within it’s depths and see what haunted its corners, what else other than mold clung to the corners. But he held her, firmly in place as the door shook. “Audrey, Go upstairs.” he instructed again. 

But she was gone, no longer beside him, no longer in this city- she was home– she was behind the door, locked. She screamed an exasperated, angry cry that scratched her throat raw, bloody and hoarse, she screamed, and screamed as she ran she tried to escape from the air that clung to her, she punched and with every punch she threw she tossed her whole weight into it, yanking her body forward along with her arm. Bloody, split knuckles painted the bolted door as she pounded against it. She clawed at the door, thrashing about, and yet, she knew.

Her mind taunted her, and mimicked the voices of her loved ones, and in the end, There was no use in any of this. Because she was alone, locked and forgotten and there was no one coming for her. What would she do if all that was left of her life was to sit, wait, and obey. The thought made her sag, shoulders hunched as she pressed herself against the wall. For once in her life, she was obedient.  

Obedient and Alone. As she was always meant to be. 

She screamed, banging against the hold he had on her, against his chest as he pressed her head into his shoulder, as he rocked her, smooth pleasant words falling from his lips. She cried into the door, the red wood splintering under her nails as she begged for anyone to listen.

When she came to, he held her still.

And then, as she had previously she would wake up, numb and frozen but unharmed, no marks or scrapes, no shadows lurking, just a sheen of sweat across her brows. She tried to sleep and the wind laughed, her dreams would repeat and repeat, and repeat. Until she assumed daybreak. She followed wherever her feet led her, not putting up a fight when they landed outside his door. The light was off, the room was still and the faintest knock was rapped against his door. She waited.

One.

Two.

Three.

And then she left, carrying on with her wandering until she landed in the kitchen, finding the man in question making a sandwich. It took him three seconds to notice her, only one more to slide a plate towards her as she made her way to him. She didn’t know how to tell him about the dream, didn't know if she should. “I love you so much it scared me into having a nightmare.” was a weird thing to say. 

He didn’t seem to mind, watching as she struggled, each and every thought so clear on her face that he couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes darted behind him, searching for the words in the background before she tried to find them on his face. What did ‘together’ mean when it was him she was with? Each and every reservation, every moment's hesitation was narrated in the space between them. The dense air suspended it for far too long before her thoughts could sink away. 

“Can demons……” she started only to trail off at the end. “love? Have children? Feel joy?” he supplied easily, a strange look in his eyes as he looked at her. “Yeah.” she said “I’m damn willing to try.” he said with a grin, as sure as the sun, as the beating of a heart. It was a promise of giving his all to something, and when he did, he very often got what he wanted. He took her hand in his, pulling it to his lips as she made up her mind. “I’ll make you happy.” he swore. “For free, or does it count as my one wish?” she asked.

“No, Not for free, I’ll have to keep you if you agree.” It didn’t sound too bad to Audrey, who allowed herself to be swept up in his arms, a grin on her lips as she looked at him in amusement. The thrill of being known, a sharp jump down into a cave and the freedom of crashing into the cold water below. Learning was as if you were the only two in that cave, the only ones in that glittering, blue water, and the only ones that mattered.

Shen knew that it was her from the moment the door opened from down the hall. He could tell by the soft footsteps that marked her path as she came. And when she appeared before him as he pulled the kettle from the stove, she paused for a moment to take him in. Her eyes trailed up from his muddy boots to his eyes, an arch in her brow as she looked at him, but she didn’t say anything, simply nodding her head before heading straight to where the pans were kept, she reached for the top of the cabinet and pulled out a pack of cookies. “Not even Vesper.” she said, pointing a warning finger at him as he poured her a drink. “Vesper doesn’t like this kind.” He said “Then there's no reason to tell her.” Nova said with a grin. 

He shook his head but took the offered cookie onto his plate, a soft private smile he only ever really wore for her as she came to sit across from him. He watched as she closed her eyes as she took a drink, and at the sight his throat closed. The hall light casted its strange glow against her, trailing its golden finger down the contours of her face, the dip of her cheekbone, the curl of her lashes. 

His eyes fell to her lips before he glanced down at his drink. He parted his lips in an attempt to tell her that they should stop these meetings, that she should save her sweets and he’ll save his tea, but his tongue sat dumb in his mouth and his lips stayed parted before he swallowed the thought that came to his mind and washed it down with a drink. 

She caught him looking and wordlessly and with a small smile she placed two more of the small cookies on his plate, and with a nod he pretended that was what was on his lips.

 She didn’t ask about his assignment, didn’t ask how it went, she didn’t ask details, instead she sent a wayward glance at his shirt, her eyes inspecting his coatless form as if it was some kind of omen. “It ripped.” He explained. She frowned slightly, her eyes leaving his chest to meet his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, her tone a touch too affectionate.  He nodded, grumbling out a brief reply and she nodded in turn, unphased by his unwillingness to spare her any details.  She never was. She was just happy to sit at the table where he had prepared her a drink, and where she had brought some sort of sweets. She was seemingly happy just to spend time with him. Happy to let the silence that filled the room be her only companion. 

He glanced at her and thought to ask if she was content with all his shortcomings, if a bitter man that couldn’t truly hold her hand was enough for her— if this— sitting a table's length across from each other without many words passing between them was enough for her. His finger ran over the painted side of his cup as he watched, he tried to ask, but she arched a brow at him as she bit into her cookie, the corners of her lips curling and a glint that only ever appeared when she looked at him settled across her features and the words dried out on his tongue. 

“You…” he started “We could do this in my room.” the words felt stiff and awkward even to his own ears. “Can I hide my snacks?” she asked after a moment, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I have a cabinet.” With a mischievous grin she nods. “Onyx won‘t find them there.” She said “Neither will Vesper.” he agreed.

“She doesn’t like this kind of cookie.” she repeated sagely. She was met with a laugh that was muffled by his drink.

You could squint and call these stolen moments dates, like you could squint and call the look on Shen’s face affectionate. In some way it was just a matter of perspective. The table was wide, and his arms were long, his hand stretched out and made a show of his attempt at stealing a cookie from her plate, but she simply took his hand, eyes watching his hand as her finger drew shapes on his palm. 

“You turned off your runes.” she said in a soft, almost surprised voice. “I did.” He replied hoarsely. A tired smile stretched across her full lips and just for a moment he forgot why he was mad at her, and then his eyes left her smile and he remembered. Forgiveness was a tricky thing, hard and bitter and he wondered if he told her all of who he was would she even still try?

He couldn’t think of a reason why she would want to, the only one that made sense was a bitter tasting thing that he couldn’t be asked to say out loud.

“What?” she asked as she drew soft hearts on his palm. “Do you want some more tea?” he asked, “Shen.” He let out a deep sigh as if the very marrow in his bones were holding it in before he looked at the table. He’s heard her story, he’s listened and came back to it and he knew it, but a nagging feeling asked if she did as well. If she remembered the details, if it was true.

“Why?” He finally asked, and before he could stop them his words came like the north wind and before she could answer he continued “What can I even give you?” she’s not taken aback by this question, her reaction was slow, her fingers stopped moving against his palm and her eyes landed on his before she answered. “You’re…” “if you say friendly I’m leaving.” he warned. She laughed, the sound was something bright and beautiful, something that curled around your heart and gave it a squeeze.

“No, definitely not. I just…“ the words died on her lips, she licked them off before with a breath she tried again; “I just want a quiet life with you.” “I thought you hated the silence.” “You’re not as quiet as you think, Shen.” she said, ignoring the tone the man used.

“That’s it, then?” He asked, ”That’s it.” She confirmed before after a beat she adds “My dad wasn’t interested in you.” ”Who was he interested in?” He asks, she gives him a strange look and spares saying the obvious. 

“Oh.” He finished his drink to stop himself from saying what danced on the tip of his tongue. 

The routine was the same every time, once the tea was finished and they had no more to eat, he would push the chair back, collect the dishes and after washing them together they would part. It was always the same. He was trapped between wanting to pull away and fall closer into her, somewhere between love and fear– somewhere in the universe there was a floating dollhouse, and in it sat the kitchen table with warm tea and sweets laid out on top of it, where Shen, Nova and Love all sat in silence. 

She glanced at her cup, still only half empty, and then glanced back to his plate, with a cookie half eaten still sitting, and then with a strange expression on her face she finished her drink too.

He retracted his hand, the doodles she traced burrowing their way into him as he finished his cookie.

His hand twitched at the loss of contact as he used the table to push himself up from his seat and with an unsure step forward he stood beside her, collecting her dishes as she rose to her feet after him. 

The cookies back in their hiding place and the water turned on, the date was at its end.

              The routine was the same. In the quiet mornings, or loud, rushed nights, it was the same in the winter as it was in the autumn, and when spring comes to shake off its fur coat, it will be the same then, too.

He passed the wet dish to her and she dried it before putting it on the rack. She hummed, and as he glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, he smiled a soft smile she was too distracted to catch.

In the silence questions and pleas lurked, they curled their fingers around their limbs and climbed up cabinets and walls, they hung from lights and the wooden beams on the ceiling, they lurked under beds and hid in closets— anything to be answered, anything to be heard.

Say something, anything. Why don’t you just tell me? Promise it’s me, Tell me that in the end, you’ll stay. The silence begged as the last dish was dried. But they paid no mind to the cries.

She looked at him as he stood before her with his foot halfway out the door. She tilted her head as she watched him, her lips parted, ready to defend herself from any accusations but there were none to be found, just rough lips that pressed themselves against hers, he leaned into her as if he wasn’t sure he should, like he was listening to all sides of the argument in his head as to why his hands shouldn’t be on her waist as he lifted her up to sit on the counter.

His body was kept between her thighs and his hand buried into her hair. Soft, dark curls that smelt like flowers wrapped around his fingers, her hands tugged him closer, and wordlessly he complied.

Promise me that somewhere within your heart, there is a place for me. 

Her fingers curled into his shirt, her legs wrapping around him. It wasn’t enough to be close. It wasn’t enough— like a drowned man he took her in like air. His hand dropped to follow the contours of her body. His fingers sunk into the fleshy bit of her hips. A split decision, one he wasn’t sure what in him made, was his mind aware of this desire? or did his heart work alone? When did it decide to let her in?

They broke apart, his hands still on her hips and hers still curled around in his shirt. her eyes half lidded, her lips red and kiss swollen, irritated by his stubble and drunk on his scent. 

          Her thoughts were so loud. He could almost read them in the air. He looked at her for a moment too long to be less than intimate, and thought to himself ‘How could anyone look at Nova and not see so clearly how much she loved.’ 

The truth never hid, it sat in the crinkles of her eyes and the curl of her lips, in the flush of her cheeks, and the way she said his name.

The truth was simple, you didn’t need to ask her to know it, but if you did… She’d tell you that she missed him before she knew his name, maybe it was the part of her heart he must’ve always claimed calling out to her, whatever it was she had found in him, it was peaceful, it was safe, it was love. 

He found that the truth scared the hell out of him, and so he silenced it with his lips, he closed his eyes and blocked his ears, still his hands pulled her closer.

She had become a habit, an unshakable, treacherous habit. To go to her and rest, as if home was not peaceful without the smell of the other, without the sounds of soft breathing and the almost silent presence of another person. In times like these, where they didn’t say much, where a head resting on a shoulder was enough, when silence said “I love you” Maybe, you needed times like those, to help ease the nicks and burns all the other times gave you. 

She had become worse than a habit or a routine— she had become breathing, the unconscious, easy movements needed to live. she had become vital. 

She had become— Everything.

They parted, their lashes casted shadows on their cheeks, and for a moment they stayed together just so. 

Sometimes, Shen was sure that your heart betrays your tongue and forces its words to your lips, and in an instant, he was sure that was what happened when he said; “Stay with me tonight.” “okay.” she replied. 

He kept stealing glances at her as they walked to his room, and whenever he did she’d meet his gaze, and without fail, he would look ahead once again. Once they were there he didn’t know what to do, he straightened out the sheets on his bed and offered her a spot.  

If she was waiting for more, for conversation, for anything you would expect with coming to a man’s room at night, she didn’t say so. She simply got ready for bed beside him, and when they climbed into bed, they laid stiffly for a long while until her hand rested in between them, and he took it in his own, and brought it to rest on his stomach. 

“I'm trouble, Nova.” He said into the darkness “Trouble loves me.” she replied, “You love trouble.” “Maybe it’s both.” She said easily. “You don’t….” he paused. ”You should find someone your age.” for a long time it was silent, not even a breeze broke the silence, before she turned to look at him.

“Did you take me to your bed to break up with me?” “I didn’t know we were together.” He said 

“You did.” She said with a grin

Sometimes he’s sure she just likes to watch the blood drain from his face. 

Because there she is, looking at him with this knowing grin. She's won the game they played and they both know it. He feels too old to still be playing around, to be too afraid to call a spade a spade, to admit that he— so he presses his lips against hers.

“I did.” he admits after they part. “I’m just….” He starts, grasping at the air for an explanation, something he could hand her so that she would see what he did and walk away. He wished to scare her off, that there was nothing– there couldn’t be. He couldn’t bear it. But she smiled, her hand tracing the lines of a rune.

 He knew, of course he knew, that she wouldn’t take any of the reasons he could give as enough of a reason to leave.

“I’d take you no matter how you came.” she said “You could be anyone, and I would still want you.” She repeats. It sounded firm, sure. strange. “You won’t like me,” he warned. “I will.” she promised with a kiss to his shoulder.

Somewhere within the night, they had drawn themselves closer, His nose buried itself into the crook of her neck, his arms coming to wrap around her waist, legs tangled together and his chest pressed against her back. 

As he fell asleep he heard a whispered “this is nice.” before he sank into a deep sleep, deep and peaceful. 

         If it had been another day, he would have woken up immediately, but the day was long and it had dragged him down, he didn’t wake when she left his arms, or when his bed cried at the loss, he didn’t wake to her footsteps, or the door closing. 

He slept through it all and he woke alone, the place where she had slept empty and long gone cold. There was soft humming coming from the corner, and as he followed the sound he found her in a chair by the light as she worked, the silver needle glinting in the light as she tugged it through the thick material of his coat, her foot shaking to her tune as she worked. She hadn’t noticed him, not yet. And for a while he watched her from where he laid. 

His eyes followed her every movement before for some time, watching as she held up his coat to the light before she went back to fixing it. She must’ve known he would simply have it fixed, but she had taken it upon herself for whatever reason to do it herself.  It was strangely hypnotic, the shaking of her foot, the sound of the thread being pulled through the fabric, the soft song he almost recognized. 

He watched as she pricked her finger, then after a soft ‘ow’ she placed it in her mouth, and when the blood didn’t stop soon enough for her she bandaged it up and got to work once more. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t worth the trouble, that he would have it fixed in the morning. 

But he stayed silent, watching as she worked. A small, quiet act of love that she didn’t bother to tell him she had done, like too many things in their relationship it was a whispered confession.

She stayed for a while, before she held it up to the light, and with a proud smile as she deemed it finished and placed it back where he had it before she made her way back to his bed again.

            He waited till her knee was on his bed to turn and lift the blanket for her, her eyes darted up to meet him and she looked as if she had been caught with her hand in the jar.

“Nova,” he called. “I was just fixing it.” she said in a rush. “why?” he asked. Her lips parted before she shrugged. 

“I wanted to do something nice.” she said he nodded slowly. They lingered before he watched her retreat, walking to the chair before she brought it to him as if to prove her innocence, and he turned on the lights.

He held up the coat, inspecting the space where a nasty gash had been, and found no gash, only the small hidden stitch that was almost imperceptible. “How did you manage this?” He asked in astonishment. 

“My mother always had me sew, all sorts of things, She’d say that ‘the devil makes use of idle hands’ and give me piles of things that needed repairing.” she explained and with a horrified look on his face he imagined her home something akin to a workhouse, something like hell. And in that moment he pulled her into him, letting her fall onto him.

She let out a startled laugh as he pressed a kiss to the center of her chest, her arms trying to catch herself against the wall as he pulled her closer.

“You never mentioned that bit.” He said “hm?” “When you told us about your childhood you never said they made you work.” Her hand stopped its movements in his hair and against his lips he swore her heart froze for three beats.

“You wanted the bad bits.” She said “Nova…” “It’s normal, you had to work too, right?” “It’s not right.” He said 

She remained quiet. He could almost see her expression, furrowed brow and wrinkled nose. 

And his lips, disobedient as they were, let slip what he had held for so long; “Why you still call them your parents beats me.” he murmured. 

“I’m scared to be alone.” she admits after a while.

She didn’t know where reality started and the lies she had been told ended, she didn’t know the difference between a loving hand and a hateful fist–

And he knew too well where this would end. 

Loving ends with bruises on your heart where kisses used to be, but still he lays kisses above her heart, because just for a moment, for this moment— She’s his to love.

Against the warm, soft skin of her chest a low promise was made, so faintly that you could hardly hear.

"Mom, mom! We lied, we just wanted to wish you. before dad. Happy Mother’s Day!"

The kids frolic around a very confused Theodora like happy bees, and she pats their heads in response, removing the sheets and looking around her, observing the house. Yes, this is the same house she and Lawrence moved into after marriage. How, all of a sudden, did she spawn here?

Dragging her feet onto the living room of the house, she spots her beloved on the couch, his curly hair ruffled from just waking up, and his hands busy in underlining some article in the newspaper. A page of the newspaper is kept aside, containing her favourite crossword puzzles, untouched, so she can do them first, like they had agreed on, back then.

As soon as he sees her, his eyes light up behind those heavy reading glasses. She can't help but notice -- he's just like the day she married him. Youthful and energetic. His curls? As brown as ever. (Not that she minded that he grew old, he was just as handsome as ever even then!)

That's not what's important - her gaze frantically searches for any speck of wounds on him, but finds none! Just like a miracle, suddenly he is young again, no bus accident, no blood... as if that never happened!

He stands up, the newspaper falling to the ground, his eyes full of love, just the way he always is. Rushing to her, he wraps her stiff, tensed body in an embrace, his warmth making her close her eyes, a single tear drop rolling down her cheeks. Is he really back? Is she really back to when she was truly happy and alive? Not hiding under false names, false stories?

He hugs her tighter, and she feels like... he's choking the breath out of her? How can he do this to her? Her eyes do not open, and she loses consciousness in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh!"

Theodora wakes up, in her husband's arms, her lovely twins tugging at her dress, concerned for her, while Lawrence looks down at her, his brows knitted in worry. Why was she even confused? This is her family, her house. It's her plain, ordinary life, a beautiful home to call hers. Nothing odd about this. At all.

"Lawrence? Dora, Theodore? What happened?"

"You passed out... you were acting so confused and strange. you didn't even react much to our kids wishing you."

"I did?" Her eyes widen. She sits up, spreading her arms to draw their little ones into a motherly hug, her heart bursting out of joy for them.

"Sorry, darlings. Must've been the late-night fatigue from editing the articles."

Lawrence snakes an arm around his wife, kissing her cheek, earning funny looks from their kids. He shrugs, ruffling their hair and turns towards his wife, holding a rose out for her.

"Happy Mother’s Day to the most beautiful and dedicated mother ever. Every day, I mentally thank the ship's owner for the ship that brought us together. And for your relentlessness that always pushed us through hard times."

"Thank you, Lawrence. You're the only man I know who doesn't thank God, rather a ship owner for us.", Theodora laughs, accepting the rose, and Lawrence chimes in.

"What can I say, honey? I believe in Cynicism and Butterfly effect!"

Their romance is interrupted by the twins, who are desperate to break the surprise they've planned for their mother.

"Daaaad. That better not be from the bouquet Aunt Yoke and we put together for mom! We worked hard, you know! It's going to be in a biiig vase at lunch.", Theodore pouts, just like Theodora when she's dissatisfied with anything, crossing his arms over his chest, while Dora just giggles, her hair curly like her dad.

"Yoke is here? In US, of all places?”, Theodora questions, surprise in her eyes. She never wanted to leave Himworde, especially after becoming a doctor. Its such a heartwarming feeling to know that she'll be reunited with her and the bubbly Bruno!

"And not only her. Your mom, dad, brother. And Friedrich, Kurt are coming over from the Netherlands, and Dr. John too. It was hard getting hold of him, but thanks to my sources, we found him in the US itself."

That's strange. He left without a word... and suddenly they found him? Something about this seems... off.

Her thoughts are diverted by the sight of her daughter holding up a dress for her momma, which Lawrence bought, in proper accordance to her likes. Her gaze softens as she takes it, running her hand through the soft purple fabric, even if the colour reminds her of... something dangerous, something she cannot recall.

"You should get changed. Lunch will be ready soon and our friends will be waiting for you in our garden. Don't worry, the kids and I have taken care of everything!"

~

Lawrence ushers her towards the bathroom, and after a quick bath, she readies herself, pulling on the dress. Just as she picks up the brush to powder her face, the lights flicker in the room, and her eyes zero in on their reflection.

Purple eyes. As purple as the fabric of her dress. No sight of her usual eye colour. And this certain shade of purple seems... suffocating. Dangerous. It smells like something eerie lurking in the shadows.

And just like that, the dress so lovingly gifted by her husband and kids, seems restricting to her. It feels claustrophobic to be in it, and she clutches at her chest, trying to calm herself down.

Surely this is a normal panic attack, right? Nothing to be worried about. Everything is fine.

She washes her face, splashing water over herself multiple times, and gazes at herself through the mirror again, water dripping from her face. Surprisingly, this time, no specks of purple was to be seen, her eyes were back to normal.

Surely it was just a reflection of her dress, right?

~

Making her way out to the garden, she is graced by a rather welcome sight. Her mother, Amanda and her father, William, waiting for her, while George stands beside them. They all have proud smiles on their faces... For her. For her accomplishments.

And she soaks it up. After all, Theodora Avery, she's still a child at heart. She wants her family to have pride in her. To be the apple of their eyes, to be seen as an individual, and not just George's Twin.

That one letter she sent them, it repaired their relations, brought them together. She even recalls them attending their wedding. Although after that, communication has been through letters only, for they had to move somewhere else. So, this is the first time they'll even see Theo and Dora.

"Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.", She manages to speak out, sobs choking her throat, tears blurring her vision. It's been long, in fact, too long, since she saw them. “I missed you so much.”

"Happy Mother’s Day yourself, my dear daughter. I'm so proud of your accomplishments. And pleased to meet our grandchildren! I never thought I’d see the day."

Amanda pulls her in for a hug, and hot tears drop down Theodora's face, unable to handle so much longing, so many emotions inside of her. Pulling away, she wipes her tears and calls over her twins to meet their grandmother.

"This is Dora and Theodore. As you know, Lawrence -", Theodora casts a playful glare at her beaming husband, "-insisted that their names be taken from mine only. Even though Dora resembles her father more than me!"

And just like that, harmony settles over their garden again, and soon they're joined by Yoke, Bruno, Friedrich, Kurt and lastly, Dr. John.

Seeing him, her unease only seems to increase, and she swears that she could almost hallucinate a purple mist around him. Shaking her head, she sits at the beautiful table, set by Lawrence and the kids, and it’s like Himworde back again, with loud laughter, teas for everyone (Earl Grey for John and fruit juices for the kids), Friedrich playing the violin, and Lawrence teasing him about Kurt. Bruno sings a song along with the violin’s symphony, while Theodora and Yoke exchange pleasantries over the table, with the latter, helpful as ever, passes on some tips for her in the parenting field.

After a while, Theodora looks around, smiling, her appetite sated by the sheer domesticity of it all, her old friends and family together. What more could she want? Two happy kids, seated on her lap, feeding her a creamy cake, their dedication to give their mom the best day ever. She feels... a strange feeling. Maybe she's too happy. So happy, that this feels unreal.

Her eyes fall on an odd box, purple beams crawling out of it. Huh? She never placed that there. It looks so out of the place, hanging from a tree.

"Lawrence, why is that box there? I don't like it. It's ruining the aesthetic."

"What box, honey? I don't see any boxes."

"Mom, what box? We can't see it either!"

"Maybe she had too much of tea?"

"As if tea is alcoholic!"

"Haha!"

Their voices fade to the background, her gaze fixed on that particular box. She places Theodore and Dora onto their chairs and walks towards the box, almost desperately.

“Mom, don’t go, there’s nothing there!”

“Honey, where are you off to?

She ignores their voices, reaching for the strange box, and as soon as its in her grasp, the reality warps around her. Her family, friends, house, lunch... everything blurs out. Horrified, she reaches for someone to hold on to, her husband, or her kids, but everything blurs out, until she stands alone in a suffocating void, full of echoes.

A familiar series of gunshots is heard, making her close her ears. It is the same shot that killed her back then. The same gunshot that forced John to make her immortal to save her life.

Wedding bells echo loudly, reminiscent of her wedding day. But this time, the ringing sound hurts and haunts her ears. She sees a glimpse of Lawrence at the altar, but covered in blood.

Horrified by what she sees, she reaches for him, only to bump into her “kids”, who plead for her, stretching their little arms to reach for their mother.

“Mom, why did you leave us? We told you not to go... why did you do that to us? We were happy together... and you ruined it!”

“You ruined it... you ruined it. You RUIN everything!!”

Theodora covers her ears, the accusations hurting her every fibre, haunting her in the midst of nowhere. Just like that, the lovely visage of her kids turns into something full of horror, coated in despair and pain . She runs away from the “kids”, further into the nothingness, but echoes follow her everywhere, lingering like the sour aftertaste of a nightmare.

“This is not real. You’re not real. NONE of this is. This place is a façade!”, she screams out, sick of it all. And then, just as she says it, the void swallows her up and spits her on the solid ground.

~

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself back in John, er, Monsieur Lachance’s house again, recoiling when she sees the box next to her. She stands up, only to collide with Thomas, who looks at her with both sympathy and worry.

“Theodora... when will you learn not to touch unfamiliar objects?”, he sighs, knowing a rather lengthy explanation is due, owing her overly curious mind.

So before she speaks, he continues, "The illusoria memorias box. Used to punish demons or immortals when their behaviour is out of the line, by twisting the memory of their past lives into lucrative and false "memories" when they touch it, so that the loss from it being snatched from them hits them later right in the feels. And immortals, un-accustomed to those feelings, for their soul is given away, tend to struggle with these emotions."

“At first, your consciousness will reject the reality, but then it’ll start accepting it, clinging onto the comfort of the fabricated ‘reality’. That’s when the box appears at the scene to take everything away and leave you with a feeling of nothingness and pain. You should-”

He stops, seeing the pain etched all over her face. Clearing the box away with a spell, he puts a hand on her shoulder, in a display of support.

“Should I leave you alone for a while? Just promise me not to touch anything else you find in here.”

Theodora simply nods, taking a seat on one of the chairs and burying her face into her palms.

What a beautiful reality it was! Everyone alive and well, her family blooming with two lovely kids, a wonderful home with Lawrence. No immortality and no infertility stopping them.

Alas, it was not real. And never will be, apart from her fantasies.

Immortality is a curse.

Who wishes to be a strong tree overlooking a lovely meadow, when you are forced to witness all your loved ones withering away like flowers? For the tree, standing there since time immortal, gazes at the world changing rapidly around it. Meadow changing into a garden, garden changing into a field. And field changing into tall buildings.

So much has been seen by it, still, it yearns to be the same young tree, surrounded by the same flowers it grew to love and cherish.

Blossoms hung above them as ram glanced at the woman that held onto his arm as they walked. Her dress swayed with each step upon the wet cobblestone, there it was. That rather far off expression she got from time to time, her eyes falling to the ground and her movements falling into that strange pattern it did whenever her eyes became glassy, as if the light behind them had gone out, dimmed by a currant. She nodded, absently, as if she had an entire conversation with herself as they walked around the garden.

“Ram.” she called suddenly. “Yes?”  “Do you think I’ve lost myself?” she asked. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes before he replied “In what way?” She rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips tugging dowards as she waved a gloved hand, trying to pull the words from the damp air before she parted her lips and pushed on. 

“I don’t…. recognize myself anymore.” she admitted in a quiet, still voice. “I'm not myself, am I?” She asked.

“You’re still, you.” he said, pausing his steps, their relaxed stroll coming to a stuttering pause as he looked at her, brows knitted as she continued on, unbothered by his expression. “Sometimes I feel as if the only times I feel like a ghost of myself is when I am with you…” He listened intently as she continued on, an expression he often wore whenever He was not Ram but Doobay.

“I used to be free, and now I sneak around to kiss the man I love in my fiance’s home.” she said, ignoring the cautious, concerned look he gave and focused on the challenging arch of his brow. “Sometimes I think I’ll wake up and you too will be gone, and with you, the last bit of me that remains.” She said “That is not true.”

“But what if it is?” she asked, looking up from the endless rows of flowers on bushes and vines to finally let her eyes find his, as they always were— trained on her. Always watching, with that look on his face as if he didn’t believe others could read it, maybe he simply forgot other people existed, or maybe he didn’t care, she could never quite pin his reasoning. 

She had this deep fear that he only wished to kiss who she was now. That he preferred and worse- found that she was only worth looking at after life had torn the undesirable pieces of her from her bones, that now that she no longer resembled herself he found that she was worthy. That thought was unbearable, so she kept it to herself, afraid to see the truth on his face, to hear it escape from the lips she had just kissed.

No, She wouldn’t ask if he only loved her now because she was no longer her, she didn’t let the words form on her tongue but still, in the way he often did he heard her anyway. 

“No one can stay the same forever, Devi, I do not love you less because you feel like you are now, no one worthwhile feels that way.” he said, his hand coming to smooth a strand of hair.  “But Ram, what if I have lost my soul?” she asked. He looked at her with an amused smile plucking a rose from the bush before twirling it in his fingers before he answered “You haven’t lost your soul, Devi, you’ve lost your heart, it can’t beat the same way it did unbroken.” “How do I fix it?” she asked.

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes, a smile still on his lips as he offered her the rose, and when she took it in her hands he placed a kiss on her temple. “Use it again.” he said “I haven’t stopped.” “You have, you’re afraid to use it because you can’t stand to feel this way again.” he said. 

Maybe if they weren’t in England they would sit in the meadow, and he’d pull her to his lap, maybe she’d rest her head against him and maybe it would have become more than what it was now, with his eyes burning a hole through her heart and the tips of her fingers aching to touch his, maybe in the sunset she would gain more of herself as he gave more of himself. But the lovers stood, inspecting the garden at a distance, and in the space between them a promise hung; Someday we’ll get to do all the things that we want to do now. 

Someday. It was like Maybe. A false promise you believe in youth and the older they got the more her legs felt as if they would give out at the sight of him. She turned, impulsive as she ever was and wrapped her arms around him, her face hidden in his shoulder as his hands came to rest on her hip. 

“It’s getting harder to be older, Ram.” she admitted. And with a smile the other smoothed the back of her hair. “It’s only growing pains.” he assured.

“What if I stay like this?” she asked. “All I had was who I am, That was all I had that couldn’t be taken, and now it’s gone.” “I’m gone, aren’t I?” Ram held onto her tighter. “You’re not gone, Devi, I see you all the time, still.” “They have ripped everything. from me, even my soul.” she cried. “No, you have not lost yourself, you have just forgotten, but I have not.” He promised. “You do not see yourself when something goes your way, but I do, and you still smile with the corner of your mouth and look around for someone to boast to.” 

“You still rush into trouble without your head.” he said with a besotted smile. "You're still always ready to prove yourself."

"The fact that you feel this now is proof that you are still yourself, because the Devi that was would never let someone tell them what she could or could not do." He paused for a moment, a hint of scolding in his eyes before he added; "Not even the gods."

“You have lost faith but not your soul.” He swore. She shrugged at him, something strange in her expression as she looked at the rose in her hands. “I… Don’t have anything to hold onto.” she said “So hold onto me.” the other replied as if it was easy. Because It was simple, it always was whenever it came to her, really. A fact that seemed rather odd, counterintuitive to the knowledge many held of him, but it was the truth nonetheless: Ram cared more for Deviya than he did anyone- anything else.  More than his pride, more than his reputation- his life. It did not matter to him in which way she changed, because so long as she was Deviya and he was Ram he would fall for her again, because he loved the very core of her, the part that couldn’t possibly change. Because He loved the very heart of her. 

“You’re still you, Devi.” He assured. “I’m not.” 

She could tell that there was a comment sitting on the tip of his tongue and she wrapped herself in it, in the warmth his words always seemed to bring. “You’re beautiful, as you were when I met you, as you are now, and as you will be for years to come,” He said. “A rose is still a rose in the winter, and in each of your seasons, you will still be our precious Rakshasi.”  “Even still?” she asked “Even still.” 

David opened the heavy wooden door, finding the small apartment, stepping over the toys that had been discarded in a rush. toeing off his shoes before he moved farther within the home. He tossed his keys into the tray that sat on the small console table against the wall. He took off his suit jacket as he followed the scent that had enveloped the home.

Tossing his suit jacket onto the back of the sofa he noticed the lack of…. Chaos. It was quiet. Too quiet to mean anything good, and as he came into the kitchen he found her at the sink with her back towards him, washing the dishes as she listened to her stereo on a very low volume. He never understood the point of that, they had slept peacefully through loud music while she was pregnant with them, what was the difference now that they were bigger?

WIth a grin he moved across the kitchen, coming up behind her david pressed himself against her, wrapping his arms around Audrey’s hips and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, bringing the bright bouquet of flowers up to her line of sight. 

“David?” she asked “Did you sell our children?” he muttered into her neck. She made an offended noise, her hand slapping his arm playfully as he continued to grin.  “Where are they?” he asked, “Napping, don’t you dare wake them.” she said, leaning back against his chest for a moment, letting his soft kisses and the scent of his cologne wash away the troubles of the day, just as he always did.

The man didn’t so much as mutter a response, just continuing to sway with her, his hand coming to rest against her growing stomach. 

He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed her fingertips. “Did you miss me?” he asked. 

             David promised to give her the stars, and sometimes he wondered if what he gave was enough, when it seemed to everyone that it was him who benefited most from her wish. 

“Yes.” She replied, resting the flowers on the counter before turning into him. “Did you?” she asked, playing with the collar of his dress shirt. “madly.” 

She smiled up at him before pulling him down to kiss her, her fingers burying themselves in his curls as they kissed. She smelt of warmth and sweetpeas and his fingers sunk into her flesh. The soft whispers of the stereo encased them in a bubble, one that made them forget to notice how very quiet it was.

Sweet pea, apple of my eye

Don't know when and I don't know why

You're the only reason I keep on coming home

He brought her to the center of the kitchen, spinning her around as her laughter broke their kiss. It filled the room, and whenever She laughed David vowed to always keep her doing it, to keep her happy because David had, at long last, found the peace he had thought impossible in the woman. He found it in her perfume, and the endless containers of skincare that cluttered the bathroom counter, In the humming that always came from her, in the toys he tripped over whenever he came home, in the childish doodles hung on the wall, most of all he found it in her laughter— he found it in every place he looked, because within each of those places he found her.

They continued to sway, unaware of the two children watching from under the table, their hands and clothes painted evidence of their innocence and eyes wide in curiosity as their parents laughed. Their plans of avenging their mother’s anger plaused for just a moment. 

           And as they were distracted with each other the two children snuck from underneath the table and reached for a glass jar that sat on the counter. It was too easy to get away with and as they scurried off with their bounty they didn’t notice the pair that followed behind them, waiting till they went back to their headquarters, a blanket fort their father had made for them in their closet. 

They returned giggling with glee before continuing their mischief. They stirred a pot of god knows what, Naomi tried her very best to unscrew the jar as Eliana stirred the chunky mixture.

That was when David showed himself, He crouched down to peer into the fort, a smile on his lips and an amused twinkle in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “What are you brewing, my little witches?” he asked, looking at the muddy glittering liquid. “Potions!” Naomi replied giddily. “Oh? and what are they for?” he asked 

At this, Eliana decided to look up from the pot she was stirring. “A stink potion!” she exclaimed with a devilish glint in her dark eyes. “Oh for who?” “Cassiel, he made momma mad.” “did he?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Audrey who stood outside the fort. 

“Oh! no Uncle Cas was just being funny, I’m just a bit sensitive right now.” she assured “Cause you miss daddy?” Eliana guessed sympathetically. David grinned and Audrey hummed in agreement.

“Good thinking, we’ll have to save your potion for when she's really mad at him.” David said “David.” He dropped his shoulders dramatically, pulling the two into his arms.  “We do not solve issues with potions.” he relented, looking just as scolded as the ones he was correcting. His expression only lasted a moment before his smile broke and he brought the girl’s head close to his lips and revealed a secret into her hair: “We’ll use it later.” 

They grinned at him, with their round childish faces holding onto his neck as he returned to their mother, failing to keep the pride from his face as she looked at the mess they had made of themselves.

“I’ll get them cleaned up.” He assured “go rest.” he added with a kiss to her forehead. 

Sweet pea, keeper of my soul

I know sometimes I'm out of control

She was awoken by the bathroom light shining in her eyes. Dense, fragrant clouds rolled out from the door and enveloped the woman that stood in the door frame, her figure cutting through the clouds as she bent over the tub. She watched the other with a tired gaze as she moved. She watched with heavy lidded eyes and an unfocused stare as the woman untangled her hair. Nova blinked slowly, watching the hazy figure move. She thought it was a rather odd thing to dream of, but it continued nonetheless. She watched the other’s figure jump around with each blink, before Finally, Vesper turned towards the other, and in that moment, she caught her with a grin. And at its sight, she felt her heart freeze, dropping to her stomach before she offered a drowsy grin of her own.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, making her way over to the woman, as casual as could be. Nova yawned as soft steps made their way closer, retreating from her steamy halo. 

“No.” she replied as the other came back into bed, tucking herself under the thick blankets as she rested on her elbow. Nova met her eyes as she looked down at the other. A hazy sort of smile was on her lips as Nova tugged at a curl, wrapping it around her finger before she let it bounce free. “I had a dream like this once.” She admits, still loose lipped from her quickly fleeing drowsiness. 

Vesper grinned, raising a brow before she let her finger trail down the center of the other’s chest. “Oh, I know.” Vesper teased, as if she had long since seen through Nova. Nova paused for a moment, letting the comment sink in before she nudged the woman’s cooled side from under the blanket. The only light came from the bathroom, the running water that muffled their voices, Nova’s perfume still lingered on the woman’s skin, and the smile she had as they fell asleep dipped, returning less fond and more mischievous than it had been before. “Not like that.” “No?” Vesper asked, her smile so clear in her voice that it was infectious. “No.” Nova confirmed in a huff of mock offense.

“No, no tell me your dream.” “No. You'll taint it," she said with a mirrored smile. She paused for a moment, looking up at the other before her hand rested on her hip under the warmth of the blankets. She traced the line of her hip down as the other woman, a look that was only half scolding and mostly amused stretching across her features as she shakes her head. 

“I can guess.” Vesper said,her head dropping lower to draw the truth from the other’s lips. “You could.” Nova replied as she met the other. Outside, the birds cried out and rose with the morning, the rolling steam from the bathroom crept closer, the bed huffed out a muffled protest with their each move. But like a pair of shoes left by the door, all those things were left far from the bed where the lovers lied. They parted lazily, not truly going far, noses still touching as they drew absently against the other’s skin. “You’re up early.” Vesper noted, her eyes dropping to the other’s lips as she waited for the response. “So are you.” “It’s a busy day.” “You should get ready, then?” Vesper hummed in agreement before she leaned down to press her lips to the others once more.

The pair laid, neither one in a particular hurry to get dressed, to start the day and part from the other. Vesper looked and grinned, her head propped up by her elbow as she traced shapes against the Catcher’s chest. Voices low and slurred, a hoarseness edging the tones as Nova spoke. They laid, forgetting the running water and the necessities that nipped at the door.

           The older woman was a welcomed weight against the catcher, her arm resting in the dip of the other’s hip. Nova looked at her, her face lifting with a smile that couldn’t help but spread across her lips. “I never thought I’d have someone like you.” Nova whispered.

“Is that regret I hear?” Nova broke into a laugh “Never.” She denied “Don’t speak too soon.” Vesper warned. Nova glared at the other, earning a soft laugh and a kiss pressed against her shoulder. “Who did you have in mind, then?” Vesper asked. “No one.” Nova admitted. “I hoped… but.” the words trailed off as the catcher made a vague gesture before her hand found a stray curl. “Good things and all.” she said in an attempt to lighten the tone. It served to do the opposite, as the other’s utter refusal of the idea– and her understanding of the truth omitted from it so clearly painted on her face. ”Say it.” Nova urged after a while of watching the woman try to hold in her questions. 

“Are you angry at the life you had?” Vesper asked. For a moment, the catcher stilled as she thought about the question. “Maybe later I will be, but now I'm only mad at the one I didn't.” Nova replies. “I’ve wasted so much time… on nothing.” 

Vesper nodded, bringing the catcher’s hand to her lips. No one leaves loneliness whole, the longer it stays with you the more of you it takes. In the silence they asked, Is there anything left of me to give to you?

“Do you think we have to earn love?” She asked “No.” Vesper replied, her fingers lulling the other closer and closer to falling back asleep. “I think the idea that you must be something to be loved is only a lie, the wicked love just as the saints do.” she added. Nova shrugged, her fingers finding a stay curl. “Love is not a mark of moral rightness, it’s only love.” “Only love?” Nova repeated. 

”It doesn’t check your credentials, Nova.” “Good must come from something.” “You.” Vesper answered, pulling the woman closer to her, she had already been such a very short distance from the other but gave in all the same. It was a novel idea that you don't need to be good for something good to come from you, and the way the woman said it before pressing the words into her skin with each kiss she left made Nova more inclined to believe it.

If Vesper had asked the catcher if she had slowed time, just for them, just to so that the pair could be together for just a while longer, the catcher wouldn’t be able to tell her that she hadn’t, for time had seemed to slow, and the running water that sounded from the bathroom seemed to disappear completely, the moments seemed to stretch, indeed. But if Nova had stopped time she had not done so on purpose, but maybe, the wish to stay beside the other woman was enough for time to listen. Because that wish, to stay within the woman's arms and tell her everything that came to mind, answer every question that passed her lips, that wish was one nova very often had. 

Vesper did not ask, she must’ve noticed if the catcher had, but maybe she shared the same wishes.

In the silence, the stillness of the moment Vesper rolled firmly on top of the other, the curl of her lips so very noticeable with each kiss she pressed against Nova’s warmed skin. Her cold fingers running down the other’s side. At the older woman’s touch Nova shook, her whole body trembling with her laughter and before Vesper muffled it with a kiss, she thought it must’ve been the sweetest sounds. 

Nova’s fingers played with the tie of the other’s robe, her other hand slipping under and resting on the woman’s thigh. She stretched to meet her, pushing up against the mattress with her free hand, and smiled when she did. Under Vesper’s fingers Nova’s heart sped up until it was furiously beating against the woman’s palm, as if desperately trying to make its way to her.

“Busy day today.” Nova murmured into the other's mouth. She was met only with a hum and another kiss. a silent challenge in the woman’s light eyes that almost insisted that time would wait for her.

It would wait for her.

Nova’s fingers unraveled the woman’s lazily pulled up hair, and the woman grinned. 

In the silence they admitted: It is good that love doesn’t come to those who deserve it, because in a million years I never would have had you. 

For some time they did stick together, lazily exploring the curves and dips of the other. The blanket fell off, bunched up behind the older woman. If she was bothered by the cold air, she did not show it, though the flush upon her cheeks might have been from the cold.

 It wasn’t.

It was easy to get lost with the other, and harder to part, Nova didn’t wish to part from the other, She looked at the woman as if she held the secrets to all Nova’s deepest questions, that should she press against the woman long enough the answer would be revealed, either written out in the woman’s moles or spilled from her lips. 

She tried, in vain, to understand what the other woman saw in her, what she ever did to earn the right to be where she was. But only raised her brows at the thought, as if the catcher stood before the truth and was blind to it. It seemed to her that Vesper herself couldn’t put into words the answer Nova begged for. 

So she pressed her hand to the woman’s skin, and kissed the woman’s neck. Against her lips nova could feel Vesper’s heart race, if you should look you could see her pulse beat under her skin.

Her robe fell open easily, and the woman only grinned when it did, the catcher taking only a moment to observe before her hands found the other. Nova didn’t notice when her own clothes were discarded, but she noticed when the woman’s hands encased her breast. 

Her lips found Nova’s once again. Nova’s fingers traced small shapes on the inside of the other’s thigh. She waited until the other parted, an all too knowing gleam within her eyes. Revenge would not be merciful. 

Her fingers found where they were needed the most, if only to spare herself in the future, and as she worked to unravel the other she watched, waiting for the answers to come. 

Her head tilted back and her body leaned forward, breathing hard and brows furrowed. She was beautiful. 

Vesper knew, of course, she knew many of the truths hidden in the moment, and she took them, keeping them as if they were something no one but them should touch. For all the things that were not their own, the moments they steal were.

Vesper met her, once again, a smile on her lips and the devil in her eyes, she kissed her again before parting from the other in order to gently push her back.

The blonde woman was a welcomed weight. 

If there were answers to this life, surely the devout will find them on their knees. 

When the answers came, and they did, the pair laid back once more, heaving and languid in their pleasure. The answer crept closer, the muttered truth she couldn’t quite make out sought to reply, but maybe it was Nova, her mind hazy from the woman’s touch. 

Only when their breathing calmed, and the woman traced lazy circles around a love bite she made against the catcher’s skin did the catcher tear her gaze from the woman, and only very briefly to look towards the bathroom door. 

“It’ll overflow.” Nova warned in a half hearted attempt to start the day, while still not making any moves to part from the other. The day must start, despite the love we wish to keep. We all must part from the hearts that beat outside ourselves. 

“Do you want to join me?” Nova paused for a moment, glancing over the woman’s shoulder to the bathroom, then pulling her arm away from the woman’s hip to outstretch it dramatically across the warm bed. “It’s cold.” she complained. “You’ll live. It’s not too cold.” She said, stripping the blankets from them both in order to stand in the cold air. 

Nova glared at her fleeting form for a few good seconds before she followed her with a yawn. The tub, true to Nova’s assessment, was overfilled. It smelt of vanilla and honey and the bubble’s piled high over the edge of the tub. Nova watched as Vesper stepped in, a knowing smile on her lips before she sunk into the tub. Nova followed suit, watching as the swaying water splashed onto the tiled floor before she sunk slowly into the water. Her speed, despite her attempt, did not stop the water from rolling over the edge. Their knees knocked together and Nova grinned. 

“Did you think this through?” she asked the other. She was met with raised brows and a knowing look, as if she was innocent to the answer. Vesper tilted her head, a curl dipping into the water, a playful glint flashing behind her lashes before she stretched her leg out of the tub and let it rest outside of it.  “Of course I did.” Vesper said, grinning as the catcher once again laughed. “Of course you did.” Nova repeated. 

It was less of what Nova thought it would be and everything. She thought that when she was loved immediately everything within her would be glued back together, that all of the things that she tried very hard to make unimportant, love would make sure that they truly didn’t matter. Their soapy fingers found each other, intertwining as they always did. It was not like that at all, and it was all the better for it.

The answer came, as it always does, as Vesper scrubbed the other’s hair. It was understood, and as her eyes met the other’s they both shared a thought.