#twilight rewrite

✧─────────────────────✧

We start spending more time in Jacob's garage. Honestly, it's weird. But nice weird I guess.

Bella is clearly doing much better. She's talking again, smiling sometimes, actually leaving the house without Charlie looking like he's about to cry from relief. The annoying part is that apparently her version of getting better involves clinging to my best friend.

Not that I can blame her.

Jacob is easy to cling to. He's warm and funny and always seems to know exactly what to say when someone's having a bad day. Still, every now and then watching them together gives me this weird little pinch beneath my ribs. Nothing serious. Just enough to make me notice it.

I care more about Bella feeling better than whatever weird vibes are happening between her and Jacob.

Mostly.

Today we're all hanging out in the garage. Bella is perched on the hood of one of the motorcycles while Jacob works on something beneath it. I'm sitting on the floor sorting through tools and trying not to get grease on my jeans for once.

The garage door is open, letting in the cool ocean air and the distant sound of waves.

Then Embry and Quil walk in.

Actually, swagger in.

The second they spot us their faces light up with identical expressions.

Oh no.

"No," I say immediately.

"I didn't even say anything yet," Quil protests.

"You were going to."

Embry points between Bella and me. "Fair."

Jacob groans from somewhere underneath the motorcycle.

"What do you two want?"

"We have a very important question," Quil announces.

"It's not important," Jacob says.

"It is to us."

Bella immediately looks entertained.

That's never a good sign.

Quil gestures dramatically between the two of us. "Which one are you dating?"

The garage goes silent.

Jacob's head immediately smacks against the underside of the motorcycle.

"Ow!"

Bella bursts out laughing.

I just stare.

Embry is trying and failing not to grin.

Jacob slides out from beneath the bike looking deeply offended. "Neither."

"Really?" Quil asks.

"Yes really."

Quil points at me. "You spend all your time with her."

Then he points at Bella.

"And now all your time with her."

Bella raises a hand.

"In his defense," she says, "he's actually never dated either of us."

"Thank you," Jacob says.

"Which honestly makes this way weirder."

"BELLA."

She laughs harder.

Quil looks between the three of us. "I'm even more confused now."

"You should be," I mutter.

Jacob grabs a rag and throws it directly at Quil's face.

I should be laughing.

Normally I would be.

Instead I find myself looking at Jacob.

Then at Bella.

Then back at Jacob.

Because for some reason the question is still bouncing around inside my head.

Which one are you dating?

Neither.

Obviously.

The answer should make me feel relieved.

Instead it just leaves that strange little ache beneath my ribs.

✧─────────────────────✧

I've taken to sleeping in Bella's bed.

Which is weird.

Not because we're sisters. Well, sort of sisters. Whatever we are.

It's weird because I used to spend all my nights with Jacob.

If you'd asked me a year ago where I'd be sleeping, the answer would've been obvious. Sneaking out to La Push, climbing through Jacob's window, curled up in his bed while he talked about absolutely nothing until one of us fell asleep.

Now I'm here.

Curled up beneath a pile of blankets in Bella's room.

And honestly?

I'd rather be here.

Because Bella needs someone.

The nightmares started not long after Edward left. At first they happened once a week. Then twice. Then almost every night.

Most nights she doesn't even remember them.

I do.

Because they wake me up every single time.

Tonight is no different.

The scream tears through the darkness so suddenly that I nearly fall out of bed.

My heart slams against my ribs.

Beside me Bella jerks violently beneath the blankets.

"No-"

Her voice sounds strangled.

Terrified.

She's kicking now, tangled in the sheets, breathing hard like she's running from something.

Or someone.

"Bella."

Nothing.

Her eyes are squeezed shut.

Tears streak her face.

"Bella."

I sit up immediately and grab her shoulders.

She's still trapped somewhere inside the nightmare.

"No!"

The scream echoes through the room.

My chest physically hurts hearing it.

"Bella wake up."

Nothing.

She's shaking.

Actually shaking.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I pull her into my arms.

"Bella."

I hold her tightly against my chest.

"It's okay."

Another strangled sound escapes her.

"Bella wake up."

Then suddenly her eyes fly open.

For one awful second she doesn't recognize where she is.

Or who I am.

Pure panic fills her expression.

Then reality crashes back in.

The panic turns into exhaustion.

Her body goes limp against mine.

The bedroom door bursts open.

Charlie.

Of course.

He's breathing hard, hair sticking up in every direction and still wearing the same flannel he fell asleep in downstairs.

His eyes immediately find Bella.

Again.

The realization lands heavily in my chest.

Because this isn't unusual anymore.

Charlie doesn't even ask what happened.

He already knows.

Another nightmare.

Another sleepless night.

Another reminder that Bella isn't okay.

"Bellabell?" he asks carefully.

Bella just nods weakly.

Charlie lets out a breath.

The kind of breath people take when they're relieved something isn't even worse.

He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed.

For a moment nobody speaks.

The rain taps softly against the windows.

Bella's breathing slowly evens out.

I keep one arm around her shoulders.

Not because she asked.

Because she never asks.

Because she leans into it anyway.

Eventually Charlie rubs a hand across his face.

"Want me to make some tea?"

Bella shakes her head.

"Hot chocolate?"

Another head shake.

Charlie looks helpless.

I know the feeling.

Because I don't know what to do anymore either.

I don't know how to fix this.

I don't know how to fight something that only exists in her head.

All I know is that every night she falls asleep terrified.

And every morning she wakes up exhausted.

Bella rests her forehead against my shoulder.

A movement so small I almost miss it.

But it makes my throat tighten.

Because a year ago Bella would've never done that.

A year ago we barely knew each other.

Now she's the first person I check on every morning.

The last person I say goodnight to.

My sister.

Not because we're related.

Because she's mine.

And she's hurting.

Charlie eventually stands.

"Yell if you need me."

Neither of us answers.

He leaves the door cracked open anyway.

The hallway light spills softly across the floor.

Bella stares at the blankets for a long time after he's gone.

I don't push.

I've learned not to.

If Bella wants to talk she'll talk.

If she doesn't, no amount of asking will change that.

So instead I brush a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

She shakes her head.

Figures.

"You know eventually I'm going to start charging you for emotional support."

A tiny huff of laughter escapes her.

Barely there.

But enough.

I smile.

"There she is."

Bella rolls her eyes weakly.

Then settles back down beneath the blankets.

I lay down beside her.

The room goes quiet again.

For a while I think she's fallen asleep.

Then...

"Kylie?"

Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Hm?"

A long pause.

"So many people leave."

The words hit me like a punch.

I stare at the ceiling.

Because suddenly I understand.

Not everything.

But enough.

Mom left.

Edward left.

People leave.

And Bella's terrified everyone else will too.

I reach across the space between us and grab her hand beneath the blankets.

She squeezes mine immediately.

Hard.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The answer comes automatically.

Without hesitation.

Without thought.

Because it's true.

Bella doesn't say anything.

But she doesn't let go of my hand either.

And neither do I.

Outside the rain keeps falling.

Inside the nightmares wait for another night.

But for now she's here.

For now she's safe.

And for now that's the best I can do.

✧─────────────────────✧

So Bella and Jacob took the bikes out without me.

Without me.

The betrayal is actually unbelievable.

I've spent weeks helping fix those stupid motorcycles. Weeks sitting in Jacob's garage getting grease under my nails while Bella learned how to ride. And then the first real ride they take?

Without me.

Rude.

I hear the engines before I see them.

I'm sprawled across the couch flipping through channels when the familiar rumble reaches the house. For a second my face lights up automatically.

Then I remember I'm annoyed.

The front door opens.

Bella walks in first.

And immediately every ounce of irritation vanishes.

"What happened?"

Bella freezes.

There's a giant gash on her forehead.

Blood has dried along her hairline and streaked down the side of her face.

Not enough blood that she's actively bleeding anymore.

Enough blood that my stomach drops straight through the floor.

"Jesus Christ Bella."

"I'm fine."

"No."

"I'm okay."

"No."

I stand up so fast I almost trip over the coffee table.

"Why are you always injured?"

Bella sighs dramatically.

"It looks worse than it is."

"That sentence should be printed on a t-shirt at this point."

The screen door opens behind her.

And Jacob follows her inside.

My brain immediately derails.

Because Jacob is shirtless.

Shirtless.

Why is he shirtless?

Where is his shirt?

Did shirts become illegal?

What happened?

I stare.

Then immediately look away.

Then look back.

Because holy fuck.

When did that happen?

I knew he'd gotten bigger.

I knew he'd gotten stronger.

I've watched him casually lift motorcycles around his garage like they weigh thirty pounds.

But this feels different.

Jacob turned eighteen and apparently woke up one day looking like he wrestles bears recreationally.

His shoulders practically fill the doorway.

His arms are ridiculous.

And don't even get me started on the abs.

There are entirely too many abs happening right now.

I hate it.

Not because they look bad.

Quite the opposite.

That's the problem.

"Oh."

The word escapes before I can stop it.

Jacob looks confused.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Everything.

Jacob narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Bella actually snorts.

Traitor.

I point at her forehead immediately.

"Don't laugh. You're bleeding."

Bella touches the cut automatically.

"It's really not that bad."

"It is literally on your face."

"I fell."

"Onto what?"

"A rock."

I stare at her.

"A rock."

"Yes."

"Just one rock specifically?"

Bella rolls her eyes.

Jacob is trying very hard not to laugh.

Again.

Traitor.

I grab Bella's wrist and drag her toward the bathroom.

"We're cleaning that."

"I'm fine."

"We're cleaning that."

"I don't need..."

"We are cleaning that."

Jacob follows us inside.

I pull out the first aid kit and start aggressively searching through it.

Bella hops up onto the bathroom counter.

Jacob leans against the doorway.

Still shirtless.

Unfortunately....Fortunately?

I am trying very hard to be normal.

It's not working.

"Hold still."

Bella winces as I start cleaning the cut.

"Ouch."

"Good."

"You're enjoying this."

"A little."

She laughs softly.

A real laugh.

Not one of the tiny polite ones she's been doing lately.

An actual laugh.

The sound immediately catches my attention.

Because lately Bella's been happier.

Not completely.

Not fixed.

But happier.

The nightmares still happen.

The sadness is still there.

But she's smiling again.

Leaving the house again.

Living again.

And somehow a lot of that seems connected to Jacob.

The realization makes me glance toward him.

He's watching Bella carefully.

Not in a weird way.

Not possessive.

Not romantic.

Just...watching.

Making sure she's okay.

Like he's been doing it for years.

Like he can't help himself.

And Bella looks calmer when he's around.

Safer.

A weird little feeling twists beneath my ribs.

Not jealousy exactly.

Something stranger.

Like the world shifted while I wasn't looking.

Bella notices me staring.

"What?"

I blink.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

I ignore her completely.

Instead I finish bandaging her forehead before stepping back to admire my work.

"There."

Bella hops off the counter.

Jacob immediately reaches out to steady her.

The movement is automatic.

Neither of them even seems to notice it.

I do.

And suddenly something clicks.

Oh.

Oh.

Not oh in the romantic sense.

Just...

Oh.

Whatever weird thing happened while I wasn't paying attention, these two found something in each other that nobody else could give them.

Bella spent months feeling like she was drowning.

Jacob somehow taught her how to breathe again.

The realization settles heavily in my chest.

Not painful.

Just...different.

Bella bumps her shoulder lightly against mine.

"Thanks."

I look at her.

Really look at her.

The color in her cheeks.

The spark back in her eyes.

The fact that she's actually standing here laughing after months of barely existing.

And honestly?

Maybe I can forgive the motorcycles.

Maybe.

I point at her forehead one last time.

"If you come home bleeding one more time I'm wrapping you in bubble wrap."

Bella grins.

Jacob finally laughs out loud.

And for the first time all day, I find myself laughing too.

✧─────────────────────✧

Time alone with Jacob has been virtually nonexistent lately. Between Bella, motorcycles, school, and whatever weird stuff is going on with the tribe, of which I barely get to see anymore, I feel like I barely get him to myself anymore.

So before I can overthink it, I grab his wrist.

"Come on."

Jacob looks confused. "What?"

"You're not getting grease and road dirt all over my house."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good. Then get upstairs."

Bella immediately starts laughing.

"Are you kidnapping him?"

"Mind your business."

I drag him upstairs before either of them can argue.

The second we get into my room I shove him toward the bed and close the door behind us.

Jacob catches himself with a laugh.

"You're weird."

"Yeah, yeah."

I lean back against the door for a second.

The room suddenly feels smaller with him in it.

More familiar somehow.

"I think I have one of your shirts somewhere."

"You have one of my shirts?"

"I have several of your shirts."

Jacob looks entirely too pleased by that.

I immediately turn toward my closet.

The room fills with the familiar scent of him. Motor oil. Forest air. Sweat.

Actually...I wrinkle my nose.

"You need a shower."

Jacob gasps dramatically.

"Wow."

"You smell like a mechanic."

"I am a mechanic."

"You're also a biohazard."

He laughs.

Lucky for me, Charlie built me an en-suite bathroom years ago after I hit puberty and started monopolizing the hallway bathroom every morning. Which may have made him late for work a couple of times.

I point toward it.

"Jacob, get your ass in the shower while I look for your clothes."

He stands.

Then walks past me toward the bathroom.

The brush of his arm against mine is brief.

Entirely accidental.

And somehow my brain decides to short-circuit over it anyway.

What is wrong with me?

The bathroom door shuts.

I stare at it for a second.

Then immediately turn back toward my closet.

Focus.

Clothes.

Find clothes.

Totally normal activity.

A few minutes later I find a t-shirt and pair of sweats he'd let me borrow a bit ago. They smell like his bedroom tied up in my body oil.

I set them aside.

Then get distracted.

I "forget" to give them to him. Listen I don't know what's happening but is it wrong to appreciate my best friends body? Oof probably.

I'm just sitting on my bed thinking.

Thinking about Jacob.

Which is apparently a dangerous hobby.

The shower shuts off.

A minute later the bathroom door opens.

And there he is.

Hair damp and pushed back from his face.

Towel hanging low on his hip bones.

Water still clinging to his shoulders and slowly making it's way down his abs.

My brain immediately exits the chat.

"Where are my clothes?" he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

I blink.

Right.

Clothes.

Those.

"I found them."

"Then why don't I have them?"

Good question.

I stand quickly.

Too quickly.

Almost trip.

Recover with what I hope is dignity.

There is no dignity.

Only panic.

I grab another towel from beside the bathroom door. We're almost chest to chest.

"You still have to dry off."

Jacob stares at me.

I stare back.

The silence stretches.

I run the towel across his chest and we stare really intensly for a moment.

I can smell my shampoo on him, and a very dangerous thought enters my brain.

He smells like me now.

Oh no.

No no no.

Absolutely not.

I know where this road leads.

I don't want to walk down it.

Because the second I acknowledge what I've been avoiding for months, everything changes.

Jacob reaches out and catches my wrist lightly. It was low...Like making its way down his abs low. Oops.

The movement snaps me out of whatever spiral I was disappearing into.

His expression is amused.

Concerned.

Fond.

All at once.

"Ky."

"Hm?"

"I think I'm dry."

I immediately step back.

Fast.

Very fast.

Like someone caught me committing a crime.

"Right."

I grab his clothes and shove them directly into his chest.

"There."

Jacob laughs.

The sound bounces around my room.

"You okay?"

"No."

His eyebrows shoot up.

I point aggressively at him.

"Stop flaunting your abs at me."

His grin widens.

"I wasn't."

"How'd you even get those anyway?"

"Work."

"Yeah sure."

Jacob laughs again before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

The door closes.

I stand there for exactly three seconds.

Then immediately throw myself backward onto my bed.

The ceiling stares back at me.

I stare back.

My heart is beating way too fast.

This is bad.

Very bad.

Because I've spent months telling myself that weird feeling in my chest was jealousy.

Or loneliness.

Or fear of losing my best friend.

And maybe some of it was.

But lying on my bed now, listening to Jacob move around in the next room, another possibility settles into my stomach.

A much more dangerous one.

"...Oh."

The word slips out into the empty room.

Because suddenly everything makes sense.

The jealousy.

The hurt.

The way seeing him again felt like finally breathing after being underwater.

The way I always look for him first.

The way I miss him.

Not just when he's gone.

All the time.

Oh.

Oh no.

I bury my face in a pillow.

I'm so fucked.

✧─────────────────────✧

Bella is finally talking again.

Not just talking.

Planning things.

Which is honestly more terrifying.

Because now she has decided that all of us are going to the movies.

By all of us, I mean me, Bella, Jessica, Mike, and whatever poor unfortunate soul Bella decides to collect along the way.

Including Jacob.

Mostly because I decide Jacob is coming whether he wants to or not.

"Why?" he asks while we're standing beside my El Camino after school.

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"It absolutely is."

Jacob narrows his eyes.

I narrow mine back.

Eventually he sighs dramatically.

"Fine."

Victory.

...Just Mike Showed up.

It's me, Bella, Mike, and Jacob. Boy am I glad I grabbed Jacob.

The movie is terrible.

Actually terrible.

Not in a fun way either.

Just boring and gross.

People are getting dismembered every fifteen minutes and somehow there's still no plot.

I hate it.

Mike looks like he's trying very hard to enjoy it.

Bella is having the time of her life.

Which honestly concerns me.

I glance over at her during one particularly disgusting scene.

She's completely focused.

Entranced even.

Who is this woman?

What happened to my sister?

Meanwhile Jacob is sitting beside me looking deeply unimpressed.

"This is awful," I whisper.

"It's so bad."

"Thank you."

Our shoulders bump. Ordinarily, during a movie, Jacob and I would have moved the armrest to lie on each other.

Which was normal.

Now it feels charged, and I don't know if I can get myself to do it. It feels wrong, a friendly gesture feels like more than that to me, and thats unfair to him.

Bella immediately shushes us.

Traitor.

A few rows ahead Mike suddenly stands up.

The poor guy looks green.

Actually green.

"Uh oh," I whisper.

Mike practically sprints toward the exit. A second later the theater doors slam shut behind him.

Silence.

Then Jacob stands. My stomach immediately drops. Because I've seen that look before.

The tense shoulders. The clenched jaw. Something's wrong.

"Jake?"

He doesn't answer.

Bella notices too.

Her entire expression shifts.

The amusement vanishes instantly.

Jacob is already heading toward the exit.

Bella immediately follows.

"Jacob."

Nothing.

The theater doors swing shut behind them.

I stare for approximately three seconds.

Then groan.

"Well now I have to follow them."

Outside the theater the cold air hits immediately.

I spot Bella and Jacob halfway down the sidewalk.

They're arguing.

Actually arguing.

Jacob's shoulders are rigid.

Bella looks frustrated.

And for some reason they're standing way too close.

I speed up.

Just in time to hear-

"You're lying."

Bella folds her arms.

"About what?"

"About what happened."

My eyebrows shoot up.

What happened?

To who?

What are we talking about?

Bella glances around quickly.

"Lower your voice."

"No."

"Jacob..."

"No."

Oh.

He's mad mad.

The kind of mad where his entire body looks wound too tight. Bella notices me approaching and immediately looks relieved. Which is suspicious. Very suspicious.

"Kylie."

"Nope."

I point between them.

"You don't get to use me as a distraction."

Bella actually looks guilty.

Interesting.

Jacob turns away abruptly.

Like he's done with the conversation.

Or trying very hard not to say something else.

"Jake."

Nothing.

He starts walking.

I grab his arm automatically.

The second my hand closes around his skin I nearly yank it back.

Holy shit.

He's burning up.

Not warm.

Not Jacob warm.

Burning.

Like he has a fever.

"Jesus."

Jacob freezes.

My eyes widen.

"Jake."

His jaw clenches immediately.

Uh oh.

"You're hot."

The second the words leave my mouth I want to launch myself into traffic.

Bella's eyes go wide.

Jacob's eyes go wide.

My eyes go wide.

Wonderful.

Fantastic.

Perfect.

I immediately correct myself.

"Temperature wise."

Neither of them says anything.

I can physically feel my soul leaving my body.

"Your skin is hot."

Somehow worse.

"Like a fever."

There.

Normal.

Recovered.

Absolutely nailed it.

Bella outright laughs.

Traitor.

I smack Jacob's arm.

"Seriously."

For a second something complicated flashes across his face.

Something almost worried.

Then it's gone.

"I'm fine."

"You are literally on fire."

"I'm not."

"You kind of are," Bella says.

"Thank you."

Jacob glares at both of us.

Then immediately looks away.

Weird.

Very weird.

Everything about the tribe boys has been weird lately.

"You're hiding something."

Jacob groans.

Bella looks away suspiciously.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Before I can interrogate either of them further, Jacob starts walking again.

✧─────────────────────✧

Jacob hasn't been responding to me.

Again.

And ain't no way we're doing this again.

No.

Absolutely not.

I already survived one Jacob disappearance.

I'm not doing a sequel.

So Bella and I decide we're going to see him. By we I mean I show up in Bella's room and announce we're leaving. Bella doesn't even argue.

Which honestly should've been my first warning sign.

It's pouring rain by the time we climb into her truck. The windshield wipers are working overtime while gray clouds swallow up the entire sky. Neither of us talks much on the drive. Mostly because we're both annoyed. Though apparently for very different reasons.

The second we pull into La Push I know something's off.

Jacob is already outside. Waiting. Like he knew we were coming. The truck barely stops before Bella is opening her door.

I climb out after her. And immediately stop walking.

What.

The.

Hell.

His hair is gone. Not completely. But gone enough. The long hair I've been yanking on and braiding and threatening to cut in his sleep for years,(as a joke I love his long hair), is gone.

Now it's short. Really short. I hate it. Actually no.

I don't.

Which is worse. Because somehow it makes his jaw look sharper. His shoulders broader. His entire face older.

Unfair. Completely unfair. Then my eyes drop lower. And things somehow get worse. He's shirtless.

Again.

Why is he always shirtless now? And wet. Rainwater slides down his chest and shoulders while his stupid new tattoo sits on one shoulder.

I blink.

A tattoo. A dumb looking tattoo. A very dumb looking tattoo.

I stare at it. Then at him. Then back at the tattoo.

"Absolutely not."

Jacob actually looks offended.

Bella ignores both of us completely.

"Why haven't you been answering me?"

She speaks first. Oh.

We're starting here.

Immediately.

Great.

I fold my arms and step back slightly while they launch into an argument.

Or whatever this is.

Honestly after about thirty seconds I stop paying attention.

Not intentionally.

My brain just gets distracted.

Because first of all, Jacob has apparently been hanging out with Bella without me.

Repeatedly.

Which I only learned because Bella casually mentioned it on the drive over like it was common knowledge.

Apparently they've been working on motorcycles together on their own.

Talking.

Meeting up.

Having entire conversations.

Without me.

So that's great.

Love that.

Second of all, their argument is weird.

Really weird.

They're standing way too close.

Talking way too intensely.

Interrupting each other every five seconds.

Honestly it sounds less like a fight and more like a breakup.

Which would make sense.

Except they're not dating.

As far as I know.

Hopefully.

My attention drifts back just in time to hear...

"Why are you doing this?" Bella demands.

Jacob looks away.

His jaw clenches.

Then he says, "Because I'm not a nice guy anymore."

Silence.

I stare at him.

Bella stares at him.

Rain pours around us.

And then...

I snort.

I can't help it.

The sound escapes before I can stop it.

Because that is genuinely the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.

Jacob's head immediately snaps toward me.

"What?"

I gesture vaguely.

"That."

"What?"

"'I'm not a nice guy anymore.'" I mimic dramatically. "Who says that?"

Bella actually looks at me like my head's chopped off.

Traitor.

Jacob glares.

I keep going.

"No seriously. That's what villains say right before they get defeated by friendship."

His glare deepens.

"My Jacob could never not be good."

The words leave my mouth casually.

Automatic.

The way they've always felt.

Because it's true.

Jacob Black is a lot of things.

Stubborn.

Annoying.

Dramatic.

A menace.

But not bad.

Never bad.

For a second nobody says anything.

The rain falls.

Bella goes oddly quiet.

And Jacob just...

Stares at me.

The amusement drains from my face slowly.

Because something shifts.

His expression changes.

His eyes lock onto mine.

Really lock onto mine.

Like he's seeing me for the first time all over again.

The air suddenly feels strange.

Heavy.

His nostrils flare.

I blink.

"...Jacob?"

His entire body goes rigid.

I scrunch my eyebrows together.

Confused.

What is happening?

Bella looks confused too.

Actually no.

Bella looks horrified.

Which is significantly worse.

"Jake?"

His eyes never leave mine.

For one bizarre second everything feels frozen.

Nobody moves.

Nobody speaks.

Then Jacob turns.

And runs.

Not walks.

Not storms off.

Runs.

Into the woods.

Gone in seconds.

I stare after him.

The rain soaks through my jacket.

My brain struggles to catch up.

✧─────────────────────✧

Jacob has been MIA.

Again.

Seriously.

Again. He ran off into the woods and what...fell in a hole?

You can't keep doing this to me, Jacob.

The first few days I try to be reasonable about it. People get sick. People get busy. People have lives outside of me.

Apparently.

But by day four I'm pacing around my room like a crazy person.

By day five I've called his house enough times that Billy probably recognizes the sound of my voice before I even say hello.

Everything was fine.

Everything was finally fine.

I got Jacob back.

Bella was doing better.

My car was almost done.

For one brief shining moment I thought maybe the universe would stop throwing things at me.

Then whatever happened at the movies happened. And we yelled at each other out in the rain.

Jacob vanished into the woods.

And now we're here again.

I flop backwards across my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Ever since Bella showed up everything has been changing.

I love her.

I really do.

But fuck man.

Nothing stays still anymore.

Jacob disappeared.

Then he came back.

Bella became my sister.

Edward left.

Bella fell apart.

Jacob got weird.

Everyone keeps having secrets.

And every time I think I've figured out the rules, somebody changes them.

My phone sits beside me.

I stare at it.

Then grab it.

Again.

The number practically dials itself at this point.

The phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then-

"Hello?"

Billy.

I immediately sit up.

"Billy."

A sigh.

The kind adults make when they're about to deal with nonsense.

"Hey kid."

"Where's Jacob?"

Silence.

Interesting. Very interesting.

I narrow my eyes at absolutely nobody.

"Billy."

"He's sick."

I pause.

"Sick?"

"Yep."

"With what?"

Another pause.

Long enough to be suspicious.

Then-

"Mono."

I blink. Mono? That's it?

All this drama because he has mono?

Actually that tracks.

Jacob would absolutely turn a normal illness into a full-scale disappearance.

"Mono?"

"Doctor says he needs rest."

I stare at the wall.

Then at my phone.

Then back at the wall.

Because honestly?

That makes sense.

He's been acting weird.

Running hot enough to cook breakfast.

Randomly disappearing.

Okay.

Fine.

Mono.

Reasonable.

Except...

I've taken care of him every single time he's gotten sick since we were kids. Every time. The flu. Food poisoning.

That one time he ate something questionable at a bonfire and spent three days complaining about it.

Every single time.

Also what was he doing out in the rain...That had to have made it worse right?

"Can I come see him?"

Billy is quiet.

Too quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because he's sick."

"That's how being sick works."

Billy sighs.

"Kid."

"No."

I sit up straighter.

"Mono is shared through bodily fluids."

The silence on the other end becomes deafening. I continue anyway.

"It's not like he's gonna kiss me."

Dead silence.

Absolute.

Dead.

Silence.

I blink.

"...Billy?"

A noise escapes him.

A strangled noise.

Like he's actively choking on a laugh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Wait.

No.

That's not what I meant.

"That's not what I-"

Billy is definitely laughing now.

"Oh my God."

"Stop."

"I'm not saying anything."

"You are laughing."

"I am."

I drop my head into my hands.

This is a nightmare.

An actual nightmare.

Eventually Billy manages to recover.

Mostly.

"Look."

His voice softens slightly.

"I know you're worried."

The embarrassment fades immediately. Because I am worried. More worried than I want to admit.

"Then let me see him."

Another pause.

"He needs rest."

"Billy."

"He really does."

I groan dramatically. The sound echoes through my room.

"You're both impossible."

"That's probably true."

I sigh.

Then softer.

"Is he okay?"

The question slips out before I can stop it. Because that's the real issue.

Not mono. Not the phone calls. Not the frustration. I just want to know he's okay. Billy's answer comes immediately.

"Yeah."

My shoulders relax. Just a little.

"He's okay."

Not perfect. Not enough.

But okay. And right now I'll take okay. After we hang up I stare at my phone for a long moment.

✧─────────────────────✧

Guys, did Tumblr always have a block limit, or have I just been writing really short fics until now? Oopsies again ran out of room but this was supposed to be with what came out yesterday. hehe hope you enjoy. She'll finally know the truth next part.

The seating arrangement was odd. Three lines of chairs, each with a slab of desk in front of them, on either side of a thin walkway centered for Professor Phillips. He walks around the classroom, laying down what you assume- correctly- to be syllabi on the desks as he goes. “YN, right?” He asks you, setting your paper on the desk in front of you. 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

“Your dad’s told me so much about you.” You grow flustered at the statement, worried your dad might have gushed on about you too long for a stranger’s liking. “Nothing too wild, don’t worry.” Trevor winks. “I’m just glad I could get you accepted here.” 

The heat in your cheeks dissipates a bit at that; you're not quite comfortable with this older man winking at you, or him taking ownership of your acceptance. Yes, he’d helped. But he wasn’t solely responsible. You put work in. 

“Glad to have you in my class right away,” he smiles and continues to hand out the syllabus. More students have filed into the room, filling most of the seats. Two girls sit on either side of you, engrossed in a conversation when they walk in. You don’t remember names. You think one of them might be Taehyung, but to be fair, your brain short-circuited when you’d been given the rundown of names. 

Three of the seven enter the classroom, and most of the room’s attention drifts to them. Like they’re magnets or something. The one with a half-bun and blue-dyed tips notices you first, smiling and flipping the lip ring on his bottom lip before he whispers something under his breath and nudges the one who’d looked like he was in pain during the assembly. This, of course, (and unlucky for you) gets the attention of the curly black-haired male and the other black-haired male with the subtle side part. You look away as they turn toward you, hoping the earth will split under your desk and swallow you up. Save you from the fact that they’re now well aware you’d been looking at them. 

They sit mirrored from you. Back row, opposite side of the room. You can see the movement out of the side of your vision while you focus on Professor Phillips. For the first half of the class, you force yourself to focus. Professor Phillips mostly goes over the syllabus and gives a few details about his personal life. He’s been teaching for 15 years, he loves Forks almost as much as he loves fish fry, and he’s got a knack for hunting. His eyes drift to you a few times, and friendly smiles are sent your way. You’re sure it’s just to keep himself comfortable or on track, yet it still unnerves you.

When you finally risk a glance in their direction, you’re a little messy in the head again. Man-bun is sitting between the other two, twiddling a pen around. He ends up whispering something to Side-part, who exhales and shakes his head. Curls is paying them no attention, eyes on the professor. He looks almost angry. You watch for a few moments before Man-bun whispers something to him next, and his eyes drift over to you. The anger melts out of them, replaced by something more akin to confusion or frustration, and pain once more. You offer him a weak smile before turning back to Trevor, who’s prattling on about papers and grade percentages. 

You don’t look back at them for the remainder of class, instead taking notes on your syllabus- little reminders on what you’d want to focus on for the class as the semester progresses. When the clock strikes 10 am and the two hours are up, they’re the first three out of the classroom. It’s almost as if they couldn’t get out quick enough. You try not to focus too hard on it and make your way to the small courtyard. Victoria is the first to find you. “You going to need help finding your next class?” 

“Nah, I should be okay to find it on my own. Hey, some of the Kims were in my last class… are they always so…?” 

“To themselves? Guarded? Quiet? Yeah,” she laughs. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll eventually fade into the background.” 

“The one with the man-bun-” 

“Jungkook,” Victoria nods. “He’s the most social of the bunch. Kind of a show-off.” 

“He keeps pointing me out to the other ones.” 

“Well, who else was in your class?” She asks. 

“The one with the side part and the one with curly hair.” You tell her, “I guess I wasn’t paying much attention to their names earlier.” 

“Can’t blame you. I might be queer, but I’m not oblivious. I see the way they make people fawn.” 

“I wasn’t fawning-” you argue. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, girl. You do you. Curly hair is Taehyung. Side-part is Seokjin. Taehyung’s an art hound, Seokjin’s the oldest of them all. Jungkook is, well, Jungkook.” 

“I just don’t get why they keep looking at me. Makes me feel like I’ve got shit on my face or something,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well, your face is fine. Promise. They’re just intimidating.” She shrugs, “And you’re new. Who knows? Maybe you caught the eye of one of them.”

You shiver at the thought. “I hardly catch the eye of anyone ever, Victoria.” You laugh. “I’m sure it’s not like that. Maybe they think I dressed like shit today. I do kind of stick out.” 

“I’d tell you if it looked like shit,” she shakes her head. “No, this is something else. Just embrace it. It’s not like you need to talk to them or anything.” 

“I guess… Oh well, it is what it is, and people are weird. I’m going to head to class now. You need a ride home?” She nods at your question, “Wanna meet up here around 12:30?” 

“Sure! I’ll probably have Naomi with me, she’s in my next class. Dunno where the hell Rachel will be.” 

“Hopefully far away…” You mumble before catching yourself. “Shit, that was rude, wasn’t it?” 

Victoria shrugs, “Not as rude as her using my sexual orientation as ammunition against me.” 

“She do that often?” 

“Depends on her mood.” 

“That’s not okay, Victoria.” 

“I know, I know. She typically isn’t so horrible to be around. I think school starting up has her sprouting three heads and crawling on the ceiling. She hasn’t been particularly nice to you, either.” 

“I’m used to it,” you sigh. “Had a few friends in Portland, but mostly I kept to myself.” 

“Well, I’m here for you, and I know Naomi feels the same way. Don’t pay Rachel much mind, if she gets too dickish I’ll set her straight.” 

You chuckle and nod, “Thanks, Victoria. I’ll see you after class.” 

“See ya then,” she waves and heads in the opposite direction. 

You have to ask for directions twice, and you nearly walk into the wrong classroom more than that. Eventually, though, you do walk through the door of the Survey of Astronomy classroom. Professor Jones is lively. She greets you as soon as you walk through her door with a smile and hand-delivers the syllabus to you. Her seating is similar to Professor Phillips’, and you again sit at the back of the classroom. 

The other students file in; this class is already fuller than the last one. “Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asks next to you, and you crane your head to meet the eyes of the person to whom it belongs. 

You and catching a break? Unlikely.

“No- no, it’s not taken,” you tell him, averting your gaze when he doesn’t look away after you answer. 

“Do you mind if I?” He motions to the seat.

“No, that’s fine,” you answer.

He nods his thanks and sits in the chair to your right, squared shoulders almost touching your own under his tan cardigan. His grey scarf still looped around his neck, caramel hair settling under the corners of the fabric. He’s the first one your friends pointed out to you. You think they said his name is Namjoon.

“You enjoy astronomy?” He asks, pulling his notebook out from his book bag.

“It’s always interested me, I guess,” you nod, mimicking his actions and pulling out your notebook. “It’s just difficult for me to wrap my head around. The constellations and galaxies. My brain just goes blank at the scale of it all.” 

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” he agrees, flipping his notebook to a blank page. “You’re new here, yeah?” 

You turn in your seat to face him fully, slightly fearful of the consequences of your actions. Across the assembly? This man was already gorgeous. Up close? It’s just not fair… You stare at him, your mind blank, and he raises his brows at you, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, yeah. I’m new.” 

“What brings you to Forks? Pretty small place to up and move to.” 

You narrow your eyes, wanting to ask him if he’s the pot or the kettle. But he’s being nice, so you temper your hostility for now. “PSU wasn’t an option.” 

“Portland?” 

“Mmm,” you nod, clicking your pen a few times. “Dad knows a professor here. He helped with my acceptance. Just seemed easiest.” 

“It’s not a bad school,” Namjoon tells you, adjusting his chair so he faces you slightly better. “Seems like quite the adjustment though… Portland versus Forks. I mean, population alone is way different.” 

“Yeah, but I’ll get used to it. I can’t complain, can I? At least I’m in school.” 

Namjoon lets out a low chuckle, and it sounds almost soothing. “You could say that, yeah.”

You’re about to respond- about to ask him what he’s doing here if it’s so difficult to wrap his head around why you’re here, but the lecture starts, and you’re stuck listening to yet another run of course expectations and grading. You find yourself watching the way Namjoon scribbles down notes. The speed at which he writes would lead you to believe that his writing would be hardly readable, but once he readjusts his arm, and you can see the page, you want to roll your eyes. It’s perfect near-calligraphy. 

Your handwriting looks rough next to his. You grimace, covering your notes with your syllabus, and tune back into what Professor Jones is saying. Her class feels like it will pass by more seamlessly than Professor Phillips’ class. Namjoon gives you a parting smile before departing the class at 12 on the dot. You watch him go, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t struck up another conversation and also confused as to why you felt that way in the first place. 

You exit the classroom after shoving your notebook and additional syllabus into your bookbag. The two classes you attended today would be the only classes you had on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Your busy days would be Tuesdays and Thursdays; English, followed by Art, followed by First Aid Industrial. You’re crossing the courtyard, looking at your phone, and responding to a text Victoria sent explaining that she’d be a few minutes late when you bump into something solid. 

You look up, recognizing Taehyung and stepping back immediately. The smaller one is with him, his silver hair and black choker distracting you a moment from Taehyung. When you look back at Taehyung, the muscles and veins in his neck are on full display, as well as the pained expression he had earlier. 

“Sorry-” you start to apologize. 

“Watch where you’re going.” He snaps, walking away from you in large strides, hands balled at his sides.  

Alright. Rude much?

The smaller man with silver hair gives you an apologetic smile, “Ignore him,” he mutters and then follows after Taehyung.

You shake your head, biting at your cheek to hold back the angry tears stinging your eyes. You understood frustration; if he’d said those words in a calmer or kinder tone, it’d be no big deal. But he snapped at you. For a stupid fucking reason. And now you’re pissed. You let out a sigh, pulling out your phone again to text Naomi, and noting the chill that clings to your skin where you’d bumped against Taehyung. 

12:08 I need some coffee

12:09 or some alcohol 

12:09 maybe both smfh

She replies a couple of minutes later, and you laugh. 

12:12 girl me too 

12:13 rachel is in both of my classes and sat w me. victoria was spared

12:13 … i’m omw out now 

Rachel is hot on Naomi’s heels when they enter the courtyard and cross over to you, her hand on Naomi’s shoulder while she tells her something excitedly. Naomi looks close to losing it. “I heard the whole interaction, Rachel.” She sighs. 

Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m just saying it’s pretty interesting that he strikes up a conversation with me after the assembly, that’s all. YN can’t have all of the attention, you know…” 

“YN doesn’t want all of the attention,” you groan. “What are we talking about?” 

“Jimin talked to me today,” Rachel sings. “In Essentials of Mathematics.”

You nod at that, admitting to yourself that you are a bit curious, but you don’t press for information. Rachel huffs at your lack of interest. “He wanted to know if I had a pen he could use, and then we talked about the weather a bit… it was amazing.” 

“He asked about you,” Naomi smirks at you, taking joy in watching the smile fall from Rachel’s face. 

“What?” You blanch. 

“Asked who the new girl was we were sitting with during the assembly. It all felt very directed.” Naomi giggles. 

“Why do they care?” You groan, “I just wanted an easy day. That’s all I wanted.” 

“You realize that they’re like… hot, right?” Rachel gapes. “They’ve never shown interest in anyone in this town, and then you show up and they’re all heart-eyes-stupid for you? How are you not more excited about this?” 

“Well, for one? I don’t know them. For two? Pretty sure at least one of them hates my guts.”

“Who?” Naomi asks, intrigued. 

“Taehyung.” You shrug, “I bumped into him by accident, and he just about ripped my head off a few minutes ago. Hence my texts.” 

“At least we know your charm isn’t limitless,” Rachel smirks. 

“Oh, give it a rest, dude.” Naomi snaps. “She’s been here one day, and you can’t give her a break? Really?” 

Rachel shrugs and smiles, “I’m just being honest. Anyways, I have a study date with Amber tonight, so I’m going to head out with her. See you guys at home,” she says, waving and leaving the courtyard. 

“She’s actually awful lately, holy shit,” Naomi whines, rubbing a hand across her face. “The conversation between her and Jimin? Hard to listen to. He asked for a pen and then asked about you. She went full-steam-ahead into a conversation that felt incredibly one-sided about the rain.” 

“Tragic,” you laugh. “But seriously, why do these guys care who I am?” 

“Someone else pull moves?” Naomi grins widely. 

“Not ‘moves.” You mime quotations at her, “Jungkook, Taehyung, and Seokjin were all in my first class today- intro to drama? I felt watched the whole time. And then in survey of astronomy? Namjoon comes up to me and sits next to me. Talks to me about Portland and is all nice and shit…” 

“And the problem is…?” 

“I don’t know!” You pout, “It’s all just weird, man.” 

“Well, they’re not really what you would classify as normal. You’ve seen them. It is interesting, though. Rachel wasn’t lying. They’ve never really interacted with anyone or asked about anyone since moving here…” 

“Oh, please don’t start. Not you, too.” 

“Sorry, dude. It’s just interesting, is all. I’ll drop it, okay?” She smiles, raising a pinky, “pinky swear?” 

You giggle at the childish display, but you do take her offer and shake her pinky with yours. 

“Do just the three of us get to drive home together?” Victoria crosses her fingers, walking up to the two of you with three coffees. “Rachel texted me that she had a study date tonight, so I was banking on her not being here,” she explains. “Is that cruel of me?” 

“After her jab earlier?” Naomi asks. 

“No.” You answer. 

The three of you laugh, joking around with each other as you all walk towards your Jeep in the parking lot. Your laughs die when your eyes hone in on a Volvo that Taehyung, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi are situated around. On the other side of the Volvo rests a Lincoln that Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin are standing near. They’re all engrossed in conversation, but Jungkook’s eyes land on yours, and he smiles. You’re not close enough- but you can swear he flips his lip ring again. He says something to the others, and Taehyung’s back visibly stiffens. He doesn’t turn to face you- most of them don’t. The three that do throw glances your way are Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok. 

“Don’t look,” Victoria chuckles, “but I think Jungkook is gawking at you.” 

“Are we all twelve?” You stammer, blushing and heading to the driver’s side door. The engine roars to life as you slam into the seat and twist your key in the ignition, frustration boiling in your gut and fueling your need to go home. Naomi and Victoria take their time, chatting to each other before hopping in. Victoria turns in the passenger seat towards you, grinning big and cheeky. 

“Don’t,” you plead. 

“That was interesting,” she laughs. “I won’t give you a hard time. Let’s just go.” 

“Thank you,” you huff, reversing your car and exiting the lot. 

Your friends, bless them, don’t remark on the awkward encounter during the drive. Instead, they busy themselves with talking about a party that’s coming up on Friday, giddiness lacing their tones. 

“There are parties here?” You laugh. 

“Hey! It’s a small town, yeah. But we still have fun,” Naomi pouts. 

“Let us take you,” Victoria begs, “c’mon. We wanna pop your Forks party cherry.” 

“That’s foul,” you grimace. 

“Let us take you, and I’ll never say it again.” 

“I don’t know, guys… It’s the first week, and there’s probably going to be homework.” 

“You can’t skip out on this party. Everyone will be there, it’ll  be so much fun!”

Naomi pouts at you directly in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, seriously. This is the party to be at. You need to get out of your head for a bit. You can’t just hide away in your room and study forever.”

“I know that… I just—there’s going to be too many people I don’t know, and not to be that guy, but I don’t really care for the party scene anymore.”

“You can’t use your lack of knowing people as an excuse, YN. You’re new to town, remember? You don’t know anyone. You gotta socialize, queen,” Victoria grins. “C’mon, there’s no reason to stress. You’ve been to parties before, right?”

“Plus, you’re way cooler than half the people going. It’s going to be fun. You’ll have a blast. And if you don’t, we’ll bail together. No big deal.” Naomi adds. “You worried about the Kims showing up?” 

Your face must betray you because Naomi laughs, “YN, they never go to the parties here. They’re not interested in them in the slightest.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“She’s not lying,” Victoria nods. “I’ve always gone to the house parties here, ever since the shitty ones Kyle started throwing back in middle school when his parents would leave for vacations and he’d convince his babysitters to buy him and his friends beer. The Kims have never gone to any of them.” 

“Then maybe-” 

“Yay!” Victoria cheers. 

“I’ve only gone to a handful myself,” Naomi tells you, squeezing your arm supportively. “I’ll be just about as new to this shit as you.” 

“My hero,” you grumble. 

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful. You get a head start on some of your studying with Naomi and Victoria in the living room of your apartment, hellbent on getting ahead of the curriculum if you’re to indulge in partying on Friday. You hope the parties in Forks aren’t as crazy as the ones in Portland. You’d seen too many people break arms and legs jumping off balconies onto trampolines or into pools in your lifetime. Besides, you really weren’t a big ‘partier.’ You’d socialized a bit at the parties back home, drank a beer or had a shot, and then had an Uber pick you up. 

By the time you’re in bed for the night, freshly showered and a podcast playing at a low volume on your speakers, you’re infinitely exhausted. It takes maybe 5 minutes for you to fall asleep, dreams laced with lip rings, curly hair, chokers, and seven sets of eyes on you.

The next morning comes too quickly. You’re still yearning for sleep when you rummage through your clothes and find something more casual to wear. Faded baggy jeans, a turtleneck (black, because your white one is MIA), and a dark green Chicago jacket your mom had bought you on one of her travels. Naomi tosses a waffle your way when you enter the living room, “Rachel’s gone already. It’s just us three today. I figured I’d return the favor and give you guys a ride today.” 

“Thank god,” you moan, biting into the waffle. “This is amazing, and I’m exhausted.” 

“How many classes do you have today?”

“Three,” you pout. 

“Same. Victoria only has 2.” 

You eye Victoria, “You already get the third class knocked?” 

“You know it. Student resources fear me after my display yesterday.” She laughs. “I figure I’ll just wait in the courtyard or the cafeteria while you guys finish your last class.” 

“We have English together, right?” You ask Naomi. She nods and pops another bite of waffle into her mouth. 

“Pretty sure it’s with Professor Collins. Notorious for being old and not caring,” she explains. “You guys ready to head out? I wanna get coffee.” 

“Let’s go; I’ll pay,” you offer. “My last pay came in this morning from tutoring.” 

The girls cheer and follow you out the door, Naomi eventually leading you to her car. You sit in the back, watching the rain zig-zag its way down the window as she starts up the engine. 

It hums beneath you as you roll down the foggy streets of Forks, early morning air crisp and cool as it fights with the heater for dominance. Naomi’s nails drum on the steering wheel in tune with the low music spilling from the stereo as she drives. Victoria scrolls through her phone, the occasional chime of a notification filling in gaps in scattered conversation. You’re hardly paying attention to what they’re saying, too lost in your own world to pay much attention. How could you when your mind was still tangled with flickering images of the Kims?

The way Jungkook flicked at his lip ring and repeatedly pointed you out to the others… or how Taehyung couldn’t meet your gaze without looking like a man on fire… or the halfhearted apology Jimin gave you when Taehyung couldn’t act his age. Namjoon was nice enough, but why? 

A quiet unease settles deep in your chest, your heart feeling a little heavier. Murkier. Confused. 

“Earth to YN,” Naomi calls out from the front, eyes narrowed on your frame in the rearview mirror. “You good back there?” 

You blink and force a smile, “Yeah, just sleepy.” 

Victoria snorts, “Coffee will fix that.” 

Maybe.

You order a vanilla latte, sipping at it greedily after paying for the drinks. The coffee shop is a measly 5 minutes from campus, so you arrive early. And of course, you look for them. Can’t help yourself, honestly. 

The Lincoln is in the parking lot where it was yesterday, but instead of the Volvo next to it, there’s a BMW SUV. Seokjin steps out of the driver’s seat of the BMW as Naomi adjusts her parking. You watch as Namjoon slides out of the passenger seat, Hoseok and Yoongi popping out of the back. Jungkook is leaning against the Lincoln, hair up in a messier bun, eyes scanning the lot. Jimin stands next to him, smiling and laughing with his full body at something Seokjin says. Taehyung is notably nowhere to be seen.

“Well, class starts in like 30 minutes. We have time to kill. What do you guys want to do?” Naomi asks, popping her hood up to shield herself from the cold. The heat is already on high in the car, but it’s fall and it’s freezing. “Cafeteria? I’ve heard good reports of their muffin quality.” 

“Sure,” you nod. 

“The blueberry ones are pretty damn good,” Victoria sighs, hopping out of the car first. 

“How is she this energetic at 8 am? It’s nuts.” Naomi shakes her head. 

You shrug and slide out of the car, following behind Victoria and Naomi as they trek towards the cafeteria, and you ignore the sensation of eyes on you the whole time you cross the parking lot. 

The muffins are good. You nibble mindlessly at a blueberry one, partially disappointed you’re not enjoying it more. But you’re too focused on the fact that one of the Kims wasn’t around, and also frustrated with yourself that you cared enough to notice in the first place. He was an ass to you the day prior. Nothing kind had come out of his mouth when you bumped into him- regardless of your apology. Namjoon had been nice enough, and his small smile had lived in your head rent-free since your second class… So what exactly was Taehyung Kim’s issue with you?

You shake the thoughts from your mind, refocusing on the conversation Naomi and Victoria are holding about the upcoming Friday and the party. You notice Jungkook and Jimin out of the corner of your eye, Hoseok sitting down at a free table with them. Jungkook, per usual, notices you and dares to smile and lift his chin in recognition. You blush, turning your head towards Naomi and Victoria once more. 

“You’re going to the party still, right, YN?” Victoria asks. 

“If it’ll get you guys to stop asking about it, yeah.” 

“Hate us all you want, girl, but it’ll be fun.” 

“You guys are going, too?” Rachel asks, sitting in the chair next to you. “Didn’t take you for the partying type,” she looks at you. 

“I’m from Portland,” you tell her, raising your eyebrows in confusion and frustration. “I’ve been to a few.” 

“Fair,” she sighs, running manicured hands through her pale hair. “I’ll be there. Kyle asked me directly. I think he’s got a crush on me.” 

“He has had one since the tenth grade,” Naomi rolls her eyes, “you know he’s into you.” 

“Can’t blame a girl for wanting to keep her options open,” Rachel smirks. 

“Options?” Victoria laughs, “You mean pining after Jimin and Taehyung Kim?”

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention, and you watch Jungkook laughing and leaning against Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin swats the top of Jungkook’s head, but he’s cracking a smile too, and shaking his head.

“He talked to me yesterday,” Rachel snaps, face souring. 

“About YN,” Naomi reminds her. “Listen, I don’t care who’s into who, can we refocus on the party plans? I’m assuming we’ll all drink, so do we wanna carpool an Uber?” 

“Sounds good. Or I could DD?” You offer.

“You want to DD?” Naomi counters. 

“Well,” you think on it for a second. “Guess not,” you smile. 

“Then we’ll carpool. It’s a deal.” 

The other girls nod. The next 15 minutes pass by quickly enough, and you are grateful when Naomi wants to part ways with the other girls and go to class. You send Victoria an apologetic glance when you leave the table, Rachel already telling her about how Kyle had asked her to the party, play-by-play explanation at full volume. 

The room for English is notably larger than the two rooms from yesterday. Looks more like a lecture room than a classroom turned lecture room. The syllabuses are already laid out on the tables that line the back half of the room, and you find a seat with Naomi in the middle of the room.

You both busy yourselves with flipping through the syllabus, Naomi taking notes as she goes. You look up when voices near and you watch, begrudgingly, as Jungkook and Jimin take the seats in front of you and Naomi. Jimin’s laughing at something Jungkook whispers to him. “He won’t stay away forever, it’s Tae after all.” He chuckles. 

Jungkook nods, and you have to keep your brain in check. He’s wide. Up close? Very wide. A whole lot of muscle. You avert your gaze, blush crawling up your neck and cheeks. You can swear Jungkook tenses. 

“Either of you have a pen I could borrow?” Jimin asks, turning in his seat towards you and Naomi. 

“I don’t have an extra, do you, YN?” Naomi smiles. 

You want to explode. “Yeah, one sec,” you mutter, pulling an extra pen from your bookbag. Jimin takes it from you delicately, so graceful, you’re kind of amazed.

“Thanks,” he smiles, teeth on full display and eyes crinkling into half moons. You hear the static in your brain, and your breathing comes in a little more uneven. Jimin’s friendly smile turns into something more describable as a smirk as he turns back in his seat, spine facing you once more. 

“Yeah, you’re so unaffected,” Naomi whispers, covering her mouth to keep from laughing at you. 

“And the sky is blue and you’re a dick,” you hiss, clicking your pen and trying to ignore Jungkook’s stifled laughter in front of you. You shoot daggers at the back of his head. 

English would be a breeze for you. Most of the reading material listed on the syllabus you’ve already read. You’d need to brush up on some stuff here and there, but you should be set for the most part. Your notes are studious and precise, and your wrist aches, so maybe you’d overdone them a bit. Better safe than sorry, though. And note-taking throughout the period had kept you from focusing too much on Jimin and Jungkook in front of you. After the pen incident, they’d stayed quiet, focused on the professor and taking notes of their own. 

You’re sliding your notebook and papers into your bookbag when you hear a light tink on the desk. You look up, eyes widening as Jungkook and Jimin both look at you, the pen you’d let Jimin borrow sitting front and center on the wood. “Oh, thanks,” you smile thinly, shoving the pen into your bookbag. “You could have kept it.” 

Jimin shakes his head, “I’d end up forgetting it somewhere. Asking for an extra is so much easier.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Jungkook smirks, flipping his damn lip ring again. You watch the metal move, and his mouth is just open enough to where you can see his tongue flicking against it. Jungkook catches your gaze, and a knowing smile splits across his face. “Jimin’s always losing things,” he adds. 

You nod robotically, heart hammering in your chest, eyeing the door. “We should get going,” you motion towards Naomi, “she’s got psychology, I’ve got art…” 

“Art? What a coincidence, so do we.” Jimin beams. 

Of course they did. Why wouldn’t they? Why would you get one second of reprieve during your first week of college? Heinous. 

“We can walk together,” his lip ring moves as he talks, and you want to fizzle and pop into dust where you’re sitting. 

“Yeah, you should walk with them, YN,” Naomi nods, “my class is across campus anyway.”

You hope the look you send Naomi withers her soul a little bit, but if it does, she gives nothing away as she waves to the three of you and exits the classroom. You let out a sigh and look at Jungkook and Jimin, “Sure, why not?” You force a smile. 

“You’re new, yeah?” Jungkook asks, leading the three of you towards the art room (hopefully.) 

“Yep,” you answer, ignoring the way he smiles at you- ignoring the way his bottom lip fits around his silver lip ring and his tongue pokes out between his teeth. 

“Liking it so far?” 

“I guess so. Portland- where I’m from- it’s so busy. Everything here feels so small and homey.” 

“I’ve heard Portland is more like Seattle.” Jimin smiles, “full of people. ‘City that never sleeps’ kind of feel to it.” 

You shake your head, smiling, ”It’s not that glamorous,” you say quickly. “But… yeah, I guess. It’s definitely louder than here. Busier. More crowded.” 

Jungkook glanced at you, lip ring catching the lights from the fluorescents above. “You don’t like crowded?”  

“I don’t mind it. But--” you lift a shoulder, thinking. “It’s… different here. Not bad. Just different.”

“Different how?” Jimin asks. 

You hesitate, then laugh softly. “Colder. Way colder.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“I actually do,” you smile softly, “it’s easier than the heat.” 

“Can’t blame you,” Jungkook replies smoothly. “We’re not fans of heat either.” 

It sounded like such a normal thing to say, but something in his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t just agreement-- it was too pointed, like a private joke you weren’t in on. You almost missed the flicker of Jimin’s eyes, narrowing slightly in Jungkook’s direction. Almost.

“So… you moved here just for school?” Jimin redirects. 

“Yeah,” you say, adjusting your bag strap again, grateful for the subject change. “Got accepted, and it felt like the smart thing to do. New place, new start.”

“That’s brave.” Jimin’s gaze lingered on you for a fraction too long before he smiled, polite and unreadable. “Not everyone could just leave like that.” 

You huffed a little laugh. “It’s not that dramatic. It’s just… Oregon to Washington.”

“Still,” Jungkook said, voice easy and casual. “Most people stay where they’re comfortable.” 

There was something in the way he said it, like he wasn’t talking about geography at all. 

You turned a corner, and you caught sight of tall windows lining the art wing. Relief tugged at you, even though part of you wasn’t sure why you felt like you’d been holding your breath the whole walk.

“You’ll like this class,” Jimin said as you stopped outside the door. His smile was small but certain. “It suits you.”

“You don’t even know me,” you frowned. 

“Not yet,” Jungkook murmured, amusement curled around the words.

Before you could answer, the bell rang, loud and shrill, pulling the three of you into the classroom.

The professor already had the easels set up, charcoal sticks stacked on every tray. The room buzzed with low chatter as people drifted to their assigned seats. You spotted Victoria and Rachel already near the back, the latter whispering furiously while sneaking looks in your direction. 

Of course.

“You can sit with us,” Jungkook said, gesturing toward the two empty stools at their table. 

You hesitated. “Don’t we have… like, assigned spots?” 

“Not really.” His smile turned mischievous. “We’re special.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Jimin muttered, sliding smoothly onto one of the stools and resting his sketchpad against the table. “You’ll scare her.” 

“I’m not scared,” you replied quickly, maybe too quickly.

“Good.” Jungkook dropped into the seat next to you like he owned the fucking thing, leaning his elbow against the surface of the table, his body angled towards you. “Scared people are boring.” 

Professor Modez clapped his hands at the front. “Alright, everyone. You’ll find the class syllabus on the tables next to your easels. The class is simple. Create, but create on time. Follow instructions, but deviate where applicable. Be yourself. Today’s exercise? Portraits. Pick a partner, study their face, and sketch what you see. Don’t overthink, let your hand move faster than your brain.” 

Your stomach sank. Portraits.

Jungkook’s head swiveled towards you, slow and deliberate. His grin widened. “Guess that’s us.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jimin beat you to it. “I’ll partner with her.” His voice was calm, but there was a finality to it, like he wasn’t asking the other for permission. 

For a moment, Jungkook’s smile froze. The tension stretched between them, something unspoken passing in that fraction of silence. Then Jungkook leaned back with a low laugh. “Fine. She’s all yours.” 

You swallowed, trying not to look like you noticed a strange standoff, while you still stood in the center of the mess of tables and easels. You looked towards Victoria and sank in on yourself when you realized she’d been roped into being Rachel’s partner. You’d have to make that up to her later. Succumbing to your fate, you slowly turn back towards the silver-haired man in front of you. 

Jimin turned his sketchpad towards you. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I’ll be gentle.” 

“Comforting,” you muttered, propping your chin in your hand after sliding into the seat on the other side of him. “What am I supposed to do? Just… sit here?” 

“Exactly,” he nodded. His pencil was already moving across the page, precise and swift, like his hand knew where to go before he even thought about it. 

You shifted in your seat, self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. “You draw a lot?” 

“More than you’d think, but not as often as Taehyung.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

His lips curled faintly. “Maybe I like being vague.” 

Across the table, Jungkook twirled charcoal between his fingers, not even glancing at his own page or partner who was still chatting with another pair of students nearby. He was sketching too, lines flowing quick and confident-- and when you risked a peek, you froze. 

It was you.

Not rough, not tentative. You, already almost finished. Too perfect. Too fast. 

“How--” you started. 

Jungkook caught your look, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to notice. “Good model.” 

You opened your mouth, but Professor Modez’s voice cut through. “Remember, these are exercises! Don’t aim for perfection… focus on expression.” 

Your cheeks burned. You sank back in your seat, pretending not to notice how Jungkook’s eyes stayed on you long after his hand stopped moving.

Beside you, Jimin’s pencil paused for the briefest moment before he bent lower over his page, expression tightening. His pencil continued to move with ridiculous, graceful certainty, like his hand didn’t even need him. He wasn’t looking down much anymore; mostly, his eyes stayed fixed on you. His gaze lingered in a way that made your skin feel too warm under the lights of the classroom.

Meanwhile, your page looked… tragic. You had an oval that was probably supposed to be a head, a pair of uneven eyes, and something that might have been a mouth if you tilted your head and squinted at the same time.

You groaned under your breath. “This is unfair.” 

Jimin’s lips curved without him glancing at your page. “Why?” 

“Because you’re drawing like… Da Vinci, and mine looks like the cover of a horror movie for children.” 

That got a laugh out of him, low and quiet, like it slipped before he could stop it. “You’re exaggerating.” 

“No, I’m really not.” You angled your sketchpad away so he couldn’t see. “If I show you, you’ll die from secondhand embarrassment.” 

“I doubt that.” His pencil didn’t even pause. “Besides, it’s supposed to be an exercise. Nobody’s grading you.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice. “If I show you, you have to swear not to laugh.” 

“I don’t laugh at people,” he said simply, finally flicking his gaze down to your page. 

You panicked, snapping the pad against your chest. “Nope! You don’t get to look yet!” 

His smile widened slightly, just slightly, as he went back to his own sketch, unfazed. “Then I’ll wait.” 

From across the table, Jungkook’s laugh was not nearly as restrained. He tipped his sketchpad towards you, revealing an almost finished portrait that looked so real it could have stepped off the page.

You stared. “That’s… that’s insane. How did you--” 

“Talent,” he smirked. “And maybe I practice a lot.” 

“Maybe?” 

His grin sharpened. “Maybe.” 

Before you could try to salvage your pride, movement caught your eye-- Rachel and Victoria were making their way over from their table. Or rather, Rachel was talking animatedly with all the subtlety of a marching band, and Victoria looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. 

“It’s really not a big deal, Vic,” Rachel groaned. Over the top. Dramatic. Loud. Like she wanted the whole room to hear. “I tried my best, promise. You’re just… hard to draw.” 

“Sorry?” Victoria said flatly. 

Rachel just shrugged before watching Jimin draw you with pointed interest.

Victoria, on the other hand, shot you a look. Not a desperate one, she was too proud for that, but it was the closest thing to a silent plea you’d ever seen. Her arms were folded tight, her jaw clenched, and she stood further from Rachel than needed.

“It looked like something a child drew with crayons,” Victoria told you. 

Rachel gasped, scandalized. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re with Jimin, right?” Victoria asked, turning her attention to you so fast it was near-whiplash. “Switch with me.” 

“What?” You blinked. 

“Switch partners,” she said plainly, voice low but urgent, as if Rachel wasn’t even there. “Now. Please.” 

Rachel scoffed, “Oh my god. What is your deal?” 

“You not taking assignments seriously is my deal,” Victoria shot back, jerking her chin towards Rachel’s sketchpad. Her tone was deliberate, daring. Rachel went pink, with outrage or disgust, you couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth as though she was about to raise hell. 

“I’ll switch,” Jungkook’s partner offered, and Rachel smiled sweetly instantly. Jungkook shrugged when you and Jimin looked at him. 

“Switching sounds good. She looks happier with us anyway.” 

Rachel bristled, but allowed her new partner to lead her back to the abandoned table. 

Victoria let out a breath like she’d been holding it for hours, then slid gracefully into the abandoned stool near Jungkook. “Thank god. You guys saved my life.” 

“You asked us to,” you reminded her, smiling. 

“Semantics.” She smirked back, clearly relieved. “I owe you guys one.” 

“Hey,” Jungkook said, raising his sketchpad. “If you’re gonna sit here, at least admire my genius.” 

Victoria glanced at his drawing, then deadpanned, “It’s fine.” 

Jungkook looked personally offended. “Fine?” 

She leaned into her hand. “Maybe if you drew her eyes right, I’d be impressed. She wasn’t even your partner, man. No wonder Romeo wanted to pair up with Medusa.” 

That shut him up. 

Jimin, still sketching, murmured without looking up, “She’s right.” 

Jungkook groaned, dragging his hand down his face while Victoria smirked like she’d won a medal.

Meanwhile, you stared down at your own paper, a terrible and uneven version of Jimin’s calm, perfect face. Your stomach twisted. No way could you show him this.

“You’re frowning,” Jimin said gently, like he could feel it without even looking. 

“Because mine looks like it belongs in a haunted house.” 

He finally put his pencil down, turning fully toward you. “Show me.” 

“No.”

“Yes.” 

You shook your head furiously, “I told you-- you’ll laugh.” 

“I don’t laugh at people,” he repeated softly. “Not ever. Show me.” 

His tone left no wiggle room for argument. Slowly and reluctantly, you lowered the sketchpad so he could see. 

For a moment, silence. Then--

“It’s good,” he said, utterly sincere. 

You snorted. “No. It’s really not.” 

“It is,” he insisted, meeting your eyes. “It looks like you were trying to see me. That’s all a portrait really is.” 

You froze at that, throat tight. His words sank deeper than you wanted them to, and the air between you felt suddenly fragile and charged. 

Victoria, of course, broke it with a mutter. “Okay, but the nose is way off.” 

You burst out laughing, and even Jimin’s lips twitched.

The rest of the class passed in a mix of focused sketching and quiet chatter. Jimin worked patiently next to you, occasionally glancing up to offer a soft suggestion. Jungkook and Victoria bickered good-naturedly across the table, trading barbs about technique and proportion, while the occasional loud sigh from Rachel across the room reminded everyone why Victoria had been so desperate to escape her. 

When Professor Modez finally called time, the room buzzed with low conversation as students packed up their materials. You tucked your sketchpad carefully into your bag, still feeling the warmth of Jimin’s words hovering over you. 

Victoria rose quickly, brushing her hands over her jeans. “I’m out for the day. I’ll swing by and pick you and Naomi up after your last classes, YN.” 

“You sure…? I could catch an Uber.” 

“I have a couple of errands to run. By the time those are done, you guys will be getting out of class. It’s all good.” 

“Alright, thanks,” you nodded, watching her disappear out of the classroom door. 

Jimin and Jungkook lingered near it, backpacks slung over their shoulders. “Good work today,” Jimin said quietly to you. You managed a small nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

With that, you headed to your last class: First Aid Industrial. Unlike the previous two, this was more solitary-- a lecture and hands-on exercises with safety equipment, bandaging, and emergency procedures. The room itself smelled like antiseptic and metal, and the flow of instructions and practice gave you a sense of purpose. You were alone in this class, focusing on learning practical skills you knew you’d need-- a big 180 from the socializing and unexpected attention from the other classes. 

By the time class ended, the rain had started outside. You trudged your way to the parking lot, meeting up with Naomi and only having to wait a few for Victoria to pull up and rescue the two of you from the stormy onslaught. The two of them kept the conversation going in the car, and you were thankful that Victoria didn’t mention art class to Naomi. Even when Naomi asked how being escorted to the class had gone. You’d given her a simple answer of “it was okay,” and smiled to Victoria through the rearview when she didn’t elaborate further for you.

The three of you arrived to the warm smell of Rachel already preparing snacks in the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Rachel greeted without much enthusiasm. “Homework?” 

“Yeah,” you said, dropping your bag on your bed before circling back to the kitchen and grabbing some water. “I’ll handle a bit while I settle in.” 

Naomi stretched on the couch, wiggling her fingers like she was shaking out the stress of the day. “I think I’ll make some tea. Anybody want some?” 

“Please,” you said immediately.

Victoria flopped onto the arm of the couch beside Naomi, her grin mischievous. “Guess we survived day two.” She gave you a playful look. “Mostly.” 

“Mostly,” you agreed, heading to your room as Naomi handed you a mug of tea. 

Evening passed with a quiet camaraderie. Rachel hovered near the kitchen, muttering comments under her breath while she prepared food. Naomi and Victoria debated music choices and upcoming campus events, dragging you into conversations here and there. 

By the time night fell, the apartment hummed with the calm comfort of home, which surprised you. You expected it to take months, minimum. The rain drummed softly against the windows, and you curled up with a cup of tea, letting your thoughts wander back to the day’s moments-- the strange mix of attention, awkward encounters, and tiny victories.

(Y/N) had delighted in succulent meals. The village was not short on outstanding cooks, but Bea had the most delectable taste that had ever passed across her tongue. She was a meal she could live off of for the rest of her life and be satisfied with until the end of time. Her tongue explored her entrance and her folds, memorizing every sensation of her skin with only one group of muscles. It was a talent she had mastered over the years, and her greatest masterpiece had been Beatrice’s body. The one thing (Y/N) had always wanted to give Bea was everything. There was nothing she could have asked for that the witch would have found impossible to give her. All except when she asked her to leave her. 

Yale had always been in her plans—it had been her dream. But the second Beatrice had asked her to go and live a life without her, she wanted to throw it all away. (Y/N) couldn’t imagine a world without Bea, much less a world where she couldn’t love her anymore. Even if it had to be in secret, hidden from the rest of the world, she had planned for a future where her best friend lived and grew by her side. 

Still, the universe gave her a horrible hand. Not only was she forced to live forever as everyone she knew and loved aged and died around her, but she was meant to do it without Beatrice. For the rest of time, she would be forced to live knowing there would come a time when she would no longer have the love of her life walking the earth with the face she had fallen for. 

 But that night? Oh, that night, none of it mattered. Bea was in (Y/N)’s arms, right where she belonged. They were in the room they had grown in, where they had fallen in love… where they had parted ways. It was the place where something beautiful had blossomed, and it still lived—blooming and very much alive. “Just for tonight,” she smiled at the woman in her grasp. “You’re all mine, my darling. All mine.” 

“Yes. Yes!” Bea exclaimed before crashing her lips onto hers. “That’s all I want.” 

“Consider this your wedding present,” she grinned as she placed a hand on the woman’s chin. “I didn’t have much time to get anything for the happy couple.”

“No more wedding talk, I beg of you. Tonight is about you and me.” 

“Then let’s pretend,” (Y/N) smiled, using her fingers to trace Beatrice’s features. “In some other universe, some other timeline,  tonight is our wedding night. I saw you in your beautiful white gown this morning, so radiant under the sun and beaming with all the beauty the Great Goddess awarded you. This morning, I promised to you eternal love and admiration for as long as the world is spinning. I promised to be your guiding light and your beacon in times of trouble. I promised you love in sickness and in health. I gave you my mother’s ring, and we kissed under the willow tree by the river’s bend. And you became my wife, and I became yours.” 

“Well, those are two very lucky ladies,” Bea smiled sadly as a tear fell down her cheek. “But in this universe, we only have tonight. Right now. And I don’t want to waste another moment imagining. I want to live this moment with you.” 

“Alright,” she conceded. “No more talking, then, my darling. Tonight, we live.” 

There were no more conversations that night. At least none that included existentialisms or hypotheticals. The only words that mattered were the ones spoken against their tongues and written on their skin. There were only so many hours left where they could claim each other, mind, body, and soul. And there was so much left to do. 

(Y/N) guided Bea toward her bedroom, remembering the path by memory as she kissed the woman down her jaw. Her hands joined Bea’s as they undid the buttons of her dress, knowing she had on far too many layers for comfort. The fabric felt like a suffocating constraint when all she wanted to feel was the warmth of her best friend’s skin against hers. It felt like hours until her dress pooled around her feet by the edge of her bed, but once she felt the cold of the night nip at her body, she felt she could finally breathe. 

The moment she parted from Beatrice to remove her clothing was torture, but being able to see her in the most purest of forms was worth the ache. Her body glimmered under the light of the moon, every mark on her body leading (Y/N) to her heat. But she couldn’t help stopping to admire her beauty. Bea was radiance incarnate, a testament to the Great Goddess’ craftsmanship. She could have died at that moment knowing she had seen heaven on Earth. 

“(Y/N),” Bea whispered as the woman kissed down her chest. Her name was a prayer on her lips, and she wanted nothing more than to answer her invocation. “(Y/N), please. I need you.” 

And what better way to be told to move on? 

“Tell me what you need,” (Y/N) mumbled against her skin as she made her way lower on her body. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.” 

Beatrice let out the most beautiful laugh (Y/N) had ever heard before, cradling her head and bending down to kiss her lips. “I want you to devour me,” she smiled. “I want you to make me scream and shake until I can’t move. And then, I want you to let me do the same to you.” 

“Well, it seems like you have the night planned out,” the woman chuckled before pressing a kiss into the skin of her thigh. “Anything else that your heart desires, my darling? Anything at all.” 

“Love me,” Beatrice breathed. “Just love me.” 

“Always,” she smiled sadly. “Always.” 

(Y/N) attached her lips to Bea’s skin once more, kissing and biting the soft skin of her inner thigh before licking a stripe up her heat. The raven-haired witch gasped at the touch, threading her fingers through the woman’s hair. “You’re sensitive,” (Y/N) laughed. “And, oh, so wet.”  

“It’s all for you,” Beatrice exhaled as (Y/N) worked her tongue around the bundle of nerves that lived between her legs. “I haven’t…” 

“Are you telling me you’ve been celibate these past few months?” she mumbled against her, sending shivers through her body and forcing her to clench her legs. “My darling, you were made to be feasted on. How could you be set on the shelf for so long?” 

“Russell said he wanted to wait until we were married,” she admitted quietly. “He’s never done it before.” 

“Oh, you get an inexperienced green boy,” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Thankfully, he’ll have an extraordinary teacher.”

 “I told you I don’t want to talk about him, (Y/N),” Beatrice sighed, cradling the woman’s chin with her hand. “It’s just us tonight, remember?” 

“Right, my apologies,” she smiled mischievously. “Where was I?” 

The woman knew exactly what to do to have her writhing with pleasure and wailing with ecstasy. It was a perfectly crafted symphony, written with harmonies and melodies composed only for them. Notes were played with fingers and mouths, each one accentuated with a moan or a whine. There was an intricacy to the performance, and there was no one better who could play the piece like (Y/N). 

“Oh, darling!” Beatrice wailed as (Y/N) curled her fingers inside her while she attacked her with her tongue. “Don’t stop.” 

All the witch could do was chuckle against her, sending shivers through the woman’s body that forced her to snake her fingers through (Y/N)’s hair and pull. She knew Bea was close to her finish, at least the first of the night. She maintained her speed, aided by the song she sang. The wind around them changed, swirling wild and strong, while the flames from the candles they lit grew in intensity. The ground shook with the intensity of Beatrice’s pleasure, rumbling and growling as the woman wailed, coming undone in the witch’s mouth. 

(Y/N) took her fingers out of Bea, teasing her through her climax as she kissed her way back up her body, a Cheshire cat smile on her face. “You did so well, beautiful,” she cooed in the woman’s ear. “How was it?” 

“I’ve missed you so much.” 

And it wasn’t until then that (Y/N) noticed Bea was crying. She stopped all movement, focusing solely on her. “Hey, hey,” she cooed, cradling her face and turning it to face her. “Tell me what’s going on?” 

“How am I supposed to live without you, (Y/N)?” she cried. “This year has been the hardest of my life, and there are still so many years left of it. How am I meant to do this?” 

“Darling, what brought this on?” (Y/N) whimpered, feeling the weight of her emotions mixing with hers. “I thought everything was going good.” 

“It was… it is,” Bea sighed. “You know me, (Y/N). You know my body, my mind, my soul. You are as much a part of me as I am a part of you. I don’t have anything else to give to Russell, and he deserves someone who can give everything.”

(Y/N) held the crying woman to her chest, running her hand across her head in an effort to calm her tears. “I know this is not what you want to hear, but we’re gonna have to learn to,” she muttered. “The Great Mother did not give us an easy life, much less one we dreamed of. But She did gift us the privilege of knowing each other, of allowing love and care to grow between us. She gave us the greatest opportunity I’ve ever had, which was to love you and have you love me back.” 

She brought one of Bea’s hands to her mouth, kissing her damp skin softly. “I wish you and I could have gotten the opportunity to have the life we always dreamed of,” she continued. “But I will never deprecate or disregard what we were able to have. We’ve been able to experience things others can only hope to, and I would not trade that for the world. “I want you to promise me something, Beatrice,” (Y/N) smiled sadly. “I want you to give your everything to Russell.” 

“(Y/N), I can’t…” 

“I’m not telling you to forget me. Heaven knows neither of us will ever be able to do that,” the witch chuckled. “I’m asking you to put that love in a locked chest so that you can experience all the wonders that await your future. Russell loves you, and I know that he will treat you like the wonder that you are. Give him the chance to grant you your wishes, allow him to fulfill your dreams, let him love you, Bea. Let him give you even an ounce of the life I wish I could.” 

Heavy tears fell from Beatrice’s eyes as she listened to (Y/N)’s words. They stained her cheeks with streams of liquid, and instead of stopping them, she embraced them. There was not much they could do. The universe had decided the only path they could take was apart, and they couldn’t fight their destiny anymore. 

Bea knew what her decision had to be, but she didn’t want to say it. Letting go of (Y/N) was the hardest thing she knew had to be done. But putting her love for her in a box was as impossible as stopping the river’s flow, as covering the sun with just a hand, as asking her own heart to stop beating. Containing the feelings she had for the woman was a feat she didn’t know she would ever be able to do, but she had to at least try. Especially when she was there begging her to do so. 

(Y/N) was pleading. She was praying that Bea could make the choice for both of them. And if there was something she could give her, it was the answer to that supplication. She had to be strong enough for the rest of her life. (Y/N) would have to carry both their hearts for the rest of time. 

“I will,” she conceded. “I will do it for us. I will live my life for us, for the time we were not granted. I will love and allow myself to be loved because I’ve known it in the purest of forms. From this day forward, and until my body is one with the earth once more.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) cried, crashing her lips onto Bea’s as sobs rattled her body. There was no beginning or end to their tears. They were one body and one soul, sharing in their love and their hurt. “You’re gonna have an amazing life, my love. I’m just glad I got to be a part of it.” 

“You are and always will be my life,” she smiled, tears glimmering in her eyes. “And for now, I want to believe it’ll still be us in the end.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “You know you are getting married in just a matter of hours?” she said. “You should be resting already.” 

“My mind is too alive to rest right now,” Bea laughed as she wiped their tears away. “And you haven’t been taken care of yet.” 

“I can live with that. Tonight should be about you.” 

“Well, I can’t,” she smirked, overpowering (Y/N) and trapping her on the bed between her legs. “I need to make sure you’re well taken care of before you shift your attention back to me.” 

“Oh, you are insatiable.” 

“Don’t you know it?” Bea teased. “Now, I need you to lie back, relax, and enjoy.”

The sun peeked its head through the window before either woman had noticed they had fallen asleep. Their limbs tangled with one another, their chests pressed together, their matching breathing filling the quiet morning. 

(Y/N) was the first to wake. Her eyes ran over Bea’s sleeping figure, taking in every small detail she could. For that was the last moment she would ever belong to her. After that morning, she would never be able to kiss the freckle behind her ear and watch her eyes flutter in her sleep. She wouldn’t be able to run her hands across the vast expanse of her skin. She would never be able to call her hers. 

This wasn’t the universe where they got their happy ever after. The one where they grew old together, where they took over the coven, maybe even got to adopt a couple of kids—though she would have been happy just the two of them. She looked over Bea’s sleeping figure and placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. It was a goodbye kiss; the period to a beautiful love story that would never be told—never be truly finished. It was their last morning, and it was already passing by.

 “Darling,” (Y/N) mumbled softly, watching as Beatrice stirred. “Darling, you need to start getting ready.” 

“Mmm,” she grumbled. “I don’t wanna.” 

“You know you have to. This isn’t school. You can’t just skip it.”

“They can’t have the thing without me,” she sighed. “If there’s no me, there’s no event.” 

“Darling, you need to get ready.” 

Bea let out a disgruntled grunt as she messed up her hair, pulling it all over her eyes as she hid her face from view. “I guess I should get this over with,” she relented. “Will you help me?” 

(Y/N) smiled as she brushed the witch’s hair away from her face, revealing the striking blue eyes that looked at her like she hung the very moon in the sky. “You need to be a little more excited than that, dear,” she said. “It is your wedding after all. The happiest day of your life, some say.” 

“I’ve already had that.” 

“No, Bea,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “The night is over. This is what’s real now.” 

“Right,” Bea sighed. “It was only for a night.” 

“That was always the plan, my darling. Those are the rules to live by.” 

“Gods, this world and its rules,” she exclaimed. “It’s not fair.” 

(Y/N) wiped away the tear that was starting to form in Bea’s eyes. The world was cruel and unfair, but those words wouldn’t serve her at that moment. Of course ,she agreed with her sentiments. She would carry her pain and guilt every moment she continued breathing. But Beatrice had to live, and she was the only one who could give her the push she needed. “It is not,” she said. “But it will be kind to you from this day on. You will have everything you have ever dreamed of.”

Before she could talk, (Y/N) stopped her. “I know it won’t be with me. And as much as I wish it could have, that’s just not the way things are,” she continued. “You will have a beautiful family, alongside a man who worships the ground you walk on. You will lead this coven and do great things for witches around the world. And it all starts with today.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because I know,” (Y/N) smiled. “You will be happy. Even if just a little bit.”

“I just wish…” 

“No more wishing, darling,” she said, swallowing the tears that would not serve Bea. “Today’s the day you stop wishing. You get it all.” 

With a sad smile, Beatrice allowed her to coax her out of bed before being sent to the shower like a kid. As she did, (Y/N) went to the spare room to retrieve the dress that the love of her life would be married in, and it was as beautiful as her. 

The dress was a beaded floor-length gown accentuated with a lace shoulder cape. Although it was white, (Y/N) knew it wouldn’t wash her out—there was nothing she could wear that would ever look bad on her. That was her something new.  She’d be walking barefoot, like all brides did, but her mother had made her gorgeous rhinestone chains with a sapphire in the center to adorn them—something blue. The earrings that rested on the dresser were ones the witch knew too well, for she had let Bea use them for a school dance once and never saw them again—something borrowed. But the something old shattered her. 

When she was younger, (Y/N)did not have much. Losing her parents young, she had to work harder than most just to get herself on the same level as others. And when she finally admitted her feelings to Bea, and she reciprocated, she wanted to give her the very stars in the sky. Yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to. After one year of their coupling, she wanted to give her something special. Something as beautiful as the gown her mother had made. 

She spent months saving up to buy a comb and scouring the earth for stones that could bring the little metal piece to life. (Y/N) asked Margaret for help with her transformation spells, and her mother with the craft. And after eight months of hard work, she’d finally ended up with something worth giving to Beatrice. Now, it would accompany her on the start of her new life. 

“I told you I would always treasure it,” Bea said as she walked into the room, a sad smile on her angelic face. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm using it for such an occasion.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” (Y/N) chuckled softly. “At least this way, I can be up at the altar with you. Well, with this and the earrings you said you’d lost.”

“Technically, I did,” she laughed. “I just happened to find them for today.”

“How very lucky you are,” the witch smiled. “Now, let’s get you ready.” 

A few minutes later, Anabelle and Sarah walked through the doors to help their sister and daughter get ready for her big day. They oohed and awed as they braided her hair and did her makeup, beaming over Bea’s husband-to-be while (Y/N) stood in the background watching the way Beatrice would look when she was promised to another. 

It took everything inside her not to burst into tears. Maybe they had dried up since the night before. Or she was simply happy that Bea would have the life they had always dreamed of. Even if she had to watch and cheer from the sidelines, she was glad she could have everything she wanted. 

By the end, the younger witch looked like a princess. Her long hair had been pinned up in an intricate hairstyle, adorned only by the glimmering comb. If it had been their day, (Y/N) would have witnessed the masterpiece that was Bea while waiting for her at the end of the altar. Everyone present would have witnessed the way her eyes welled with tears and the red heat that painted her cheeks. She was beauty and perfection, and she had to hand her over to Russell as though she were his to take. 

“I always knew she would make a beautiful bride,” Anabelle whispered to (Y/N) as she squeezed her hand in comfort. “I just never thought it would be Russell at the end of the aisle.” 

“You and me both,” she smiled sadly. “But we knew it wouldn’t ever happen. Not in this lifetime, at least.”

“I mean no offense when I say this, but how are you here? I would have stayed far away from the village if it were me.”

“She wanted me here, so I came,” she said. “I would do anything for her.” 

“Oh, to love and be loved,” Anabelle smiled softly at the witch. “It’s a gift and a curse, it seems.”

“You can say that again,” she chuckled. “Now, let’s get your sister married.”

The ceremony was as beautiful as ever. The walkway toward Bound Souls’ Bank had been adorned with white and blue carnations because Bea had always hated roses. Overhead, candles and flowers floated, adorning the sky with shimmering confetti of flames and petals. At the end of the makeshift aisle, an arch of ivy and jasmine made a canopy for Margaret and the lovely couple. It was everything they had ever imagined. And (Y/N) stood beside Beatrice as she promised her life to Russell, to love and to hold, for the rest of her life. And all she could do was smile.

“Having proclaimed your vows with our Mother Goddess as your witness, I call upon the elements to help me bless this union for the rest of time,” Margaret said, raising her arms to the sky. “I call upon the Air from the East, to bless this couple with good thoughts and positivity. I call upon the Fire from the South, to erase their past and clear a new path. I call upon the Water from the West, for renewal and purification. And I call upon the Earth from the North, to bless this couple with balance and wisdom.” 

As the words left the woman’s mouth, the wind rustled the trees, the calm brook rushed its water downstream, fire surrounded them in a circle, and the earth shook beneath their feet. “Now, with Mother Earth’s blessing and the power vested in me by our Great Goddess, I pronounce you married. You may seal your promise with a kiss.” 

(Y/N) looked down at her bouquet as Russell and Bea shared their binding kiss. She didn’t know if she imagined it, but she felt something inside her chest snap as though the cord that bound her to Beatrice had finally broken. She would always belong to Bea, but Bea no longer belonged to her. 

Somehow, she gathered every ounce of strength inside her and clapped and smiled for the young couple as they walked back up the aisle, now a married pair. And they looked happy. And truthfully, that was all (Y/N) could hope for. 

Everyone had cleared before the witch was able to move from her spot. On the ground, she noticed a blue sapphire glimmering between a muddle of rocks. It was the biggest stone from Bea’s comb. Sometime during the ceremony, the piece had fallen, left between pebbles to be forgotten… just like her. 

As she reached to grab it, she heard footsteps coming closer. Their heaviness told her it could not be any of the Porters, but their softness told her all she needed to know. “Russell,” she said as she took his extended hand. “Shouldn’t you be with your new bride?” 

“There was someone missing at the reception,” he smiled. “We couldn’t go through this without you, (Y/N).” 

“You’re already married, Russ,” she chuckled in an attempt to shield her sadness. “It’s already done.”

“You know what I mean, (Y/N),” Russell muttered softly. “She needs you there.” 

“Not anymore,” she sighed. “She is yours now.” 

“I’ve always known she would never be mine—not completely,” he said. “And I don’t expect her to be, (Y/N). I don’t mind that I have to share her heart with you, as long as she knows she is loved. That is all that matters to me.” 

(Y/N) didn’t know what she and Bea had done to deserve Russell. He had always accepted them when they were together, and now that Bea was with him, he had never pushed (Y/N) away. Instead, he understood the feelings the women shared and relished in the simple opportunity of being a part of it. 

“Beatrice and I want you here,” Russell continued. “We don’t want you to grow apart, and I don’t want Bea to miss a part of her. Do you understand what I am saying, (Y/N)?” 

“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “You made a vow in front of the Great Goddess. I don’t belong anywhere near those.” 

“Not even for just one day?” 

The words surprised her, even more than where the conversation had shifted to. What he was suggesting went against what they had promised to each other, even if it was okay with one another. “Your vows… I can’t.” 

“Did you not hear what we said? The words we had changed from the normal vows?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We promised to do whatever was necessary to keep each other happy,” he said. “You make her happy, and I would never stand between that. I know she was the one who asked you to leave, to live your life without her because of your… condition. But I know her heart needs you to keep beating, just like she needed you here last night to even show up to the wedding. “If all it takes is one day for her to endure the other three hundred and sixty-four,” he stated, “then I will gladly give it to her. Granted, if it were the other way around, I’d be just as grateful.” 

“Where did you come from, Russell?” (Y/N) smiled, wiping away the tear she felt roll down her cheek. “How can you be so…?” 

“Perfect? Handsome? Charismatic?” he chuckled. “You can stop me at any point and chime in.” 

“All of the above and more,” she laughed. “But are you sure you are okay with that? One day every year. Are you sure you agree with it?” 

“If you’re not sure, then know that Bea is the one who settled on one day,” Russ said. “I was fine with however long she wanted. She could have half the year if she so wished.” 

“Too much of a good thing?” 

“That’s exactly what she said,” he grinned. “You believe me now?”

“Okay, then,” she said, holding back the joy that made her heart race. “One day out of the year.” 

“Great!” he exclaimed before holding out his arm. “Now, let’s head into the village center where our beautiful Beatrice is waiting for us.” 

With a renewed delight, (Y/N) interlocked her arm with Russell’s and allowed him to pull her up the trek she had walked hundreds of times with Bea. She couldn’t believe that even when she thought the younger witch would slip through her fingers, she was granted a thin sliver to keep them together. It was all she could hope for at that moment. 

The entire coven and some outside guests had all gathered in the town center. Bustles of happy conversations filled the air as many of them reunited for the first time in months or even years. Both young and old had come for the joyous occasion, meeting once more to celebrate the newest marital union. But even if there were faces she hadn’t seen in a long time, there was only one that mattered to her. 

As Russell left her at the end of their table, kissing the back of her hand before taking his place, her eyes met the blue of Beatrice’s. (Y/N) gave her the warmest smile she could muster as she was met with the softening of Bea’s eyes. She understood. They both did. The universe had not granted them the gift of eternity together, but it had given them enough. And as the younger witch smiled at her, (Y/N) knew she would be okay. She would be happy, and that was enough.

A/N: *cough* *cough* goodness, there are cobwebs and dust all across this story. it's been forever since I updated. I'm so sorry. I've been so behind on every single fic because life has gotten in the way, but I'm glad I'm able to update it now. I love this story so much, and I hope y'all do too. If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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