carla !!

The box you were carrying was way too heavy. You knew it the second you stubbornly yanked it out of the trunk, but by the time you realized how unwise that was, you were already halfway up the steps to your new apartment. The one that didn't have an elevator.

A bead of sweat ran down your temple. Your arms were shaking, the cardboard creaking ominously, and you could feel the edge of a textbook digging into your thigh through the bottom of the box.

You grunted softly as you stagger forward, muttering under your breath, "okay, stupid idea, officially noted."

That’s when you heard it. A door creaking open. You looked up, flustered, and caught sight of her. A young woman that was standing in the open doorway of the unit just across the hall. Faded gray hoodie, sweatpants that sat a little too low on her hips, and a tangle of auburn hair in a messy bun that looked like it gave up halfway. One hand gripped the door frame, the other clutching a half-eaten granola bar.

She blinked at you, shocked. You offered a small, sheepish smile. "Hi."

She blinked again. "Uh—hi."

There was a beat of silence. She kept staring at you, and you shifted your weight, struggling to hold the box and at the same time balance your pride. "I, uh… just moved in."

She nodded quickly. "Yeah, no—I figured. New face. And boxes. That’s… obvious. Sorry."

You bit back a laugh. "I promise I’m not usually this pathetic. Just… long drive. Too much stuff."

Ellie snapped out of it suddenly, like her brain had just rebooted. "Shit—wait. Let me help you with that."

Before you could protest, she’s stepping forward, quickly wiping her hand on her hoodie like she just remembered she’s eating, then gently taking the box from you like she’s worried you’ll shatter if she’s too rough. And she lifted it as if it didn't weight anything. God, you're not sure if it was just the exhaustion, but was the room suddenly hotter? Or was it just you?

"Oh my god," you exhaled in relief, letting your arms drop. "Thank you. You may have just saved my spine."

She grinned softly, cheeks a little pink. "No problem. I’m Ellie, by the way."

You gave her your name, and she repeated it quietly under her breath, like she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget. It’s oddly endearing.

She followed you into your apartment and gently sat the box down by the window. "Wow. You’ve got, like… a lot of books."

You glanced around at the stack of boxes marked READING / PLEASE DON’T CRUSH, smiling a little. "Guilty. I had a system, but the system kinda died somewhere around hour five of unpacking."

Ellie nodded like she gets it. "Want some help? I mean—only if you want. I don’t have anything going on. Just… reorganizing my guitar pedals and regretting my life choices."

You raised an eyebrow. "Guitar pedals?"

She blushed faintly. "Yeah. Music nerd. Don’t judge."

"I’d never," you replied, already walking toward the nearest box. "If you’re serious about helping, I’ve got a bookshelf I was too scared to try assembling alone."

She perked up immediately. "I’m your girl."

An hour later, Ellie was sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, her hoodie sleeves pushed up—her arm tattoo on full display, as she studied the instruction manual with a look of pure concentration.

There was a screw between her lips and her hair was falling in her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. You were lying on the rug beside her, trying not to laugh. "You look like you’re defusing a bomb."

She spat out the screw with a grin. "This is Ikea. You never know." You laughed, and Ellie beamed at the sound. "Okay, hand me the... um. That… L-shaped—thingy."

"You mean the Allen wrench?"

"Right. That. Allen. Bastard of a wrench."

You passed it to her and watched as her hands worked with practiced ease, though she was still mumbling things like 'who designed this nightmare' under her breath. After a few minutes, the pieces started to come together.

You offered her a drink from your tiny fridge, and she takes it with a soft 'thanks,' sipping while scanning the partially-built shelf.

"You know," she said casually, "this place is nice. Good lighting. Kinda cozy already."

"Think I’ll like it here."

Ellie shrugged, maybe a little too fast. "Yeah, well. I mean. You’ve got a cool neighbor, so."

You laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. "I really do."

Ellie was standing at your door, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, wiping her hands on her jeans even though she hadn’t touched anything in the past ten minutes. The bookshelf was done. The boxes were stacked a little neater. She helped more than she should have for someone who just met you, and now there’s a weird lull in the air like… okay, what happens now?

You stretched your arms overhead, groaning quietly as your back pops. "Okay, officially retiring from lifting furniture."

Ellie snorted. "You say that now. Wait until you realize you still have, like, six more boxes marked 'miscellaneous disaster'."

You groaned again, dramatically this time. "Those are tomorrow’s problems." Then, with a soft sigh, you glanced toward your hallway and say, "God, I still need to get a new bulb for the bedroom. I haven’t been able to see in there since I got here."

Ellie raises her brows. "No light at all?"

"None," you say. "And of course, I packed the lamps in the box that’s... still in my car. Which is currently blocked in by some delivery truck of doom."

There was a pause. You expected a laugh, maybe a 'good luck with that.' Instead, she played with two of her fingers awkwardly, and smiled at you. "I could take you?" she said.

You blinked. "What?"

"To the store," she shrugged, eyes darting away like she regrets offering. "I was just gonna run out and grab snacks or something anyway."

You tilted your head. "You were?"

Ellie turned red, but tried to play it cool. "Yeah. Definitely. Wasn’t just gonna, y’know, spiral alone in my apartment or anything."

You both knew that was a lie. But you laughed, and something in her posture relaxed. "Okay," you replied, smiling. "Yeah. Let’s go lightbulb hunting."

Ten minutes later, you’re both in Ellie’s dusty old truck—windows slightly cracked, and a faint smell of pine from a crooked air freshener hanging from the mirror. She was gripping the wheel like she’s trying not to white-knuckle it, sneaking occasional glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking. You’re pretty sure you caught every single one.

At the hardware store, the lightbulb section was far more overwhelming than it had any right to be. You stood in front of it together, baffled by the sheer number of wattage options.

"Why are there so many types?" you whispered.

Ellie whispered back, "capitalism."

Eventually, you grabbed the right one (after way too much debate about warm vs. cool lighting), and Ellie casually picked up a few things for herself. Chips. A soda. A pack of sour candy she pretended not to want until you caught her staring at it for a solid minute.

"You’re definitely a sour candy person," you said as she tosses it into the basket.

Ellie shrugged, cheeks pink. "You're saying that like it’s a bad thing."

You shook your head. "No, just… makes sense."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," you said softly, smiling. "It’s cute."

She froze. Didn’t say anything for a solid five seconds. Then muttered a very quiet, 'Oh.' You pretended not to notice how red her ears go.

Back at your apartment, it took about eight minutes to screw in the new bulb—and then you were both just… standing in your now-lit bedroom, staring at the glow like you’ve just witnessed a miracle.

"Let there be light," Ellie said reverently.

You laughed and flopped back onto your mattress dramatically. "I owe you my life."

She leaned against the doorway, hands in her hoodie pocket, watching you with the kind of soft smile she probably doesn’t even realize she’s wearing. "You don’t owe me anything."

You glanced at the clock. "You hungry?"

Ellie paused. "Me?"

"No, the bookshelf." You smirked. "Of course you, dummy. C’mon. I’m starving. And you did save my spine."

She tried to brush it off with a joke—'I do take payment in pepperoni'—but you could tell she was secretly thrilled.

Twenty-five minutes later, a pizza box was open between you on the living room floor, two paper plates balancing precariously on a stack of books. You’d strung up some fairy lights that Ellie offered to 'totally not judge you for owning,' and now the room is bathed in warm, flickering gold.

You were sitting cross-legged, a slice in hand. "God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was."

Ellie smiled behind her cup of soda. "You looked like you were gonna pass out when I showed up earlier."

"Honestly? Close."

There was a pause. She glanced at you, then down at her food, then back at you. "I’m glad you let me help," she says.

"Yeah?"

She nods, playing with a corner of the box. “I don’t… really do that. Talk to people, I mean. Not right away. But you’re… easy."

You rose an eyebrow, smirking. "Easy?"

"I mean—you’re easy to talk to,” she blurted. "Not like—not in a bad way. You just—shit. That sounded wrong."

You burst out laughing. "Relax. I know what you meant."

She groaned into her hands. "Kill me."

"Never," you laughed. There’s a lull after that. A comfortable one.

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out toward her. "So what’s your story, Neighbor Ellie? Mysterious girl across the hall. Fixes furniture. Gives rides. Loves sour candy."

She gave you a look. "You clocked all that in one night?"

"I’m a fast learner."

She exhaled a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay, well. I moved here a couple years ago. Work in a CD store. Play guitar in my free time. Live a thrilling life of talking to no one and watching horror movies until 2 AM."

"Wow," you deadpanned. "Truly a menace."

She smirked. "I contain multitudes."

You nudged her leg with your foot. "I think you’re cool."

Ellie went so quiet after that you worry you went too far. But then she said, soft: "I think you’re pretty cool too."

Neither of you moved for a second. The pizza was getting cold, the lights were flickering softly. She was staring at you like you hung the stars, and your heart’s doing something very inconvenient in your chest.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where Ellie worked. Not like you stalked her or anything—she just... mentioned it. Casually. In passing. And it stuck with you, that offhand comment about shifts and sorting and 'old people complaining about the price of CDS like it’s 1985.'

And okay, maybe you were a little too curious. Maybe you had a free day and a really good memory. And maybe there weren’t that many record stores in town to begin with.

You checked out the first shop—a dusty little place with an impressive jazz section and a guy behind the counter who looked old enough to have invented jazz. No Ellie. The second one was sleek and modern, curated for aesthetic Instagram posts, with alphabetized playlists and diffused lighting. Also, no Ellie. But the third one… That’s where you saw her.

She was behind the counter, alone, hunched over a small stack of CDs, scribbling something onto tiny sticky notes with a black pen clutched between ink-smudged fingers. Her hair was tied up in a low bun, loose strands falling into her face as she worked. She was mouthing the words to whatever track was playing overhead—some soft, rock ballad you didn’t recognize—but it made the whole place feel hushed, intimate, like stepping into someone’s favorite memory.

You stood near the entrance for a second too long.

Ellie glanced up and froze. Her pen paused mid-word. You caught the brief flicker of surprise on her face—like she wasn’t expecting to ever see you here, like this part of her life was separate and you’d somehow wandered past the invisible boundary.

But then her expression shifted, softening into something unreadable. The corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying to decide whether to smile or run.

She settled on a weird middle ground. "Oh," she said nonchalantly. "Hey."

You raised a hand, suddenly hyper-aware of your own body, your posture, the fact that you hadn’t really thought through what you’d say when this moment came. "Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

Ellie blinked. "In my place of work?"

You laughed, and she smiled for real this time. "Right. I was just... exploring the neighborhood," you lied. "Didn’t realize this store was so close."

She nodded slowly, clearly not buying it—the store was a twenty-minute drive from the apartment complex— but was too polite to call you out. "Yeah? You into CDs?"

"Definitely," you said, scanning the shelves like you weren’t about to have a heart attack. "I mean, I personally prefer vinyls, but yeah, CDs are like, super retro. Very... round."

Ellie snorted. "That’s one way to describe them."

You wandered closer, pretending to browse, your fingers grazing the spines of old cases. She watched you, but not in a judgmental way. More like she was trying to figure you out.

"Do you work every day?" you asked after a moment.

"Nah," she said, leaning on the counter. "Just a few days a week. Tuesdays, Thursdays, sometimes Saturdays."

You nodded like that wasn’t valuable information now burned into your brain. You grabbed a Fleetwod Mac CD, and took out your wallet to pay. "Cool," you said. "Guess I’ll have to stop by again."

"No, uh, don’t worry. It’s on the house." Ellie scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting to her Casio watch. "You, uh... wanna hang out after I’m done? My shift ends at ten."

"You sure?"

"You don’t have to. I just thought—I dunno, maybe we could go get coffee. Or you could show me your superior taste in 'very round CDs.'"

You grinned. "I’d like that."

Ellie looked down, then back up through her lashes. "Cool. Yeah. Cool."

You ended up spending the next half hour pretending to look through racks while sneaking glances at her—and she, in return, kept stealing glances at you in the reflection of the display glass. And when five o’clock finally rolled around, she practically flew out from behind the counter, tugging on her jacket and fumbling with the sleeves like she was nervous. Which, honestly, made two of you.

The coffee shop Ellie picked was small, local, and mostly empty by the time you both got there—quiet enough that your conversation didn’t have to compete with the noise, but not so silent that the pauses felt heavy. The barista gave Ellie a little nod when she walked in, like she was a regular, and Ellie just muttered a soft 'hey' back before holding the door open for you.

You sat by the window, your cups warming your hands, and the conversation came easier than you thought it would. Ellie was shy, yeah, but not in that way where she tried to disappear. It was more like she was deliberate. Careful. She listened to you like you were saying things worth remembering.

She told you about the weird guy who always came in looking for jazz CDs they didn’t have, and how she’d once spent two hours reorganizing the punk section just because she couldn’t stand the way someone else had done it. You talked about the move, the disaster of trying to assemble your own bookshelf, and the apartment above yours that sounded like a zoo with a drum set.

Ellie laughed at that one, and you caught yourself staring just a little too long at the way her eyes crinkled when she did it. You suddenly felt the urge to count every single freckle that was marked in her face.

Somewhere between a refill and a shared chocolate chip cookie, she glanced at the clock and said, "Wanna come over?"

"To your place?"

She scratched at the back of her neck. "I mean, only if you want. No pressure. I just—I have this CD collection I was talking about and, uh... coffee shops close eventually."

You tried not to smile too obviously. "Sure. I’d love to."

Ellie’s apartment was quite similar to yours—after all, both were from the same block, but something about it was undeniably her. The couch was beat-up but clean, the walls were decorated with band posters and a couple of hand-drawn sketches you didn’t ask about yet, and her windowsill had a few neglected plants that were somehow still alive.

"I wasn’t really expecting company," she said, kicking off her shoes near the door. "Sorry if it’s a little... messy."

You looked around. "Ellie, this is better than mine by far."

She shrugged, clearly flustered, and motioned for you to take a seat while she made herself busy putting on a playlist— just background enough to not distract from her own nervous energy. With your drink still in hand, you wandered to the shelf near the TV, running your finger along the neatly organized spines of her CD collection. "So this is the shrine."

"Hey, don’t mock the shrine," she said, coming to stand beside you. "It’s got history."

You glanced at the rows and rows of titles—some familiar, others completely new to you. "What’s your holy trinity, then?"

She paused, seriously considering it. "Green Day, Radiohead, and—don’t laugh—The Smashing Pumpkins."

You blinked. "Why would I laugh?"

"I dunno. People always think I’m gonna say something cooler. Nirvana or something."

You smiled. "I think that is cool."

Ellie ducked her head and muttered, "Yeah, well... you look cool, so I’m trusting your judgment."

You turned toward her, and right as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt it—a warm splash of beverage sloshing right onto your top. You looked down at the spreading stain and groaned. "Oh my god. I can’t take me anywhere."

Ellie reacted fast, already rummaging through a basket of laundry near the couch. "Wait—here. I, uh, I’ve got something you can wear."

She tossed you a hoodie, worn and soft and a little big. The same one she wore the first time she saw you. You pulled it on without thinking—slightly mortified, and very aware of how it smelled exactly like her. It was stupid. It was just detergent and something like cedar and maybe... her shampoo? But it hit you like a memory you hadn’t made yet, and when you looked back at Ellie, she was definitely flustered.

"You okay?" she asked, voice a little tight.

You nodded, tugging at the sleeves. "This is so comfy. You might never get it back."

Ellie laughed nervously. "That’s, uh... fine. You look good in it."

The sentence hung between you for a beat too long. You turned back to the CDs. "Show me your favorites."

And she did.

You sat cross-legged on her living room floor while she pulled out album after album, fingers brushing the covers like they were sacred texts. Time slipped away. The music got quieter, the light outside faded to black, and before either of you realized it, the clock on her microwave blinked 1:04 AM.

"Oh shit," Ellie said, glancing over. "You’re probably exhausted. I didn’t mean to keep you here so long."

You rubbed your eyes, yawning. "I am tired. But like, in a good way. I had fun."

Ellie stood awkwardly, hovering near the door. "Do you want me to walk you back?”

"It’s literally ten steps ahead."

"Still," she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

There was a weird, sudden stillness. Not uncomfortable exactly—just... charged. Like you’d both walked to the edge of something without realizing it, and now neither of you knew what to do. You stood in the doorway, Ellie’s hoodie still wrapped around you, warm from her and too soft to take off just yet.

"I should go," you said.

"Okay," Ellie agreed, voice quiet.

You could feel it—just beneath the surface—the shared, unspoken thing you both wanted. The maybe. The what if. But neither of you crossed the line.

Instead, you gave her a soft smile and a breathy 'goodnight,' and Ellie rubbed the back of her neck and murmured it back. When the door finally closed behind you, your heart thudded like you’d just run a mile.

Back in your apartment, you curled into the matress that laid on the floor, still wearing her hoodie, surrounded by the quiet hum of the night, and told yourself you were fine. That you’d get another chance. You didn’t know Ellie was sitting on the other side of the wall, wide awake, hoodie-less, and thinking the exact same thing.

The next morning, you woke slowly. And the forst thing that you felt was Ellie’s hoodie. Still wrapped around you. Still warm in the chest, even if the sleeves were cold now. You’d never meant to fall asleep in it, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself take it off either. Not when it still smelled like her. Not when it felt like the last piece of her you got to keep before things got too real. Before either of you dared to name what last night had almost been.

You sat up slowly, groaning at the way your spine protested after crashing half-sideways across your bare mattress. One arm still tucked under a throw pillow, hair wild with sleep. You ran your hand through it and stretched—and that’s when you heard the voices. Muffled at first. Laughter. Two people in the hallway, maybe just outside your door. You froze.

One of them was Ellie. You’d recognize her voice anywhere by now. That low rasp that turned warm when she laughed. And she was laughing—louder than you’d heard her in days. And the other voice? Feminine. Confident. Light and teasing.

You moved quietly, barefoot on the wooden floor, hoodie still draped over your frame like a second skin. You opened your apartment’s door just enough to let sound bleed in, and curiosity got the better of you. Just a peek, you told yourself.

You leaned into the silence of your own apartment, looking at the hall. And there she was. Ellie. Hair still damp from a shower, in a flannel over a gray tee and those dirty Converse she always stomped around in. She looked so relaxed, so casual—leaning against the stair railing, grinning in a way she never quite had with you. Her hand came up to push her hair out of her face, and she was looking at the girl beside her. Dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. Pretty. Effortless. Golden skin and a wicked smile and that kind of magnetic energy you’d always admired from a distance. She looked like someone who knew how to charm your mom and talk about records without ever trying too hard. The kind of girl who just fit.

She playfully shoved Ellie’s shoulder and said something that made them both burst into another fit of laughter. And your heart sank. Of course. Of course Ellie wasn’t single. What were you thinking? That someone like her—funny, sweet, handy, effortlessly cool—would just be floating around, unattached? That she'd invite you over, lend you her hoodie, stay up talking music with you ‘til one in the morning because she wanted something more? No. You’d misread it. All of it. You closed the door quietly.

Your face felt hot. Your eyes threatened to let out a couple of tears. You slipped the hoodie off and folded it, hands trembling just slightly, and placed it gently on the edge of the couch like it might burn you if you touched it for too long. Like it had just become hers again, not something you were allowed to keep holding.

And then you started getting ready. Quieter than usual. Slower. You told yourself you’d imagined it. That it didn’t matter. That it was fine. You’d just… back off. Respect the boundary you hadn’t realized existed.

Ellie noticed something was off that same day. No music playing. No lights on. Not even the faint sound of footsteps inside like usual. The little signs she’d come to expect over the past few days—gone. And the worst of all? You hadn’t texted her.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she walked down the street, bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hovering over your contact in her phone. She kept replaying last night over and over again in her head—the way you looked in her hoodie, how you smiled at her dumb music rants, how close your knees had been on the floor, how you hadn’t kissed her when you left. And how she hadn’t kissed you either. Too nervous. Too wrapped up in the fear of ruining something before it even started.

She walked into the shop, tossed her bag behind the counter, and barely had time to clock in before Jesse—her coworker, and unfortunately, her most observant friend—poked his head in from the back room. "Yo, Williams."

"What."

"You got the personality of a wet sock today. Did something happen?"

Ellie groaned. "I’m fine."

"What the fuck? You’re not. You sighed seven times during that one sentence. That’s a record, even for you."

She pulled the stool out and sat down behind the register, slumping dramatically. "It’s nothing."

Jesse raised a brow. "Is it about hoodie girl?"

Ellie snapped her head up. "What? How do you—"

"You literally texted me last night 'she’s wearing my hoodie and I might die.'"

"Okay first of all, fuck you. And second, I was emotionally compromised."

Jesse leaned on the counter, smirking. "So what happened?"

Ellie looked down, fiddling with the string of her hoodie. "I don’t know. We hung out, it was great—like, really great—and I thought we were gonna maybe... kiss or something? But then she left, and now she’s just—cold. Like, totally ignoring me."

"She see you with Dina?"

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What?”

"Dee told me she went to pick up her speaker this morning. Maybe she saw you two together."

Ellie’s jaw dropped. "She thinks I’m dating Dina?"

Jesse just gave her a look. "Wouldn’t be the wildest assumption, dude. Dina is hot. And you two always look cozy as hell."

Ellie slumped back in the stool. "Shit."

"So go tell her." Jesse folded his arms. "Like, right now."

"I can’t just show up and be like 'Hey, by the way, that girl I was laughing with? Not my girlfriend!'"

"Why not?"

"Because it’s—" Ellie rubbed her face. "I don’t know, it’s embarrassing. What if she didn’t see me with Dina? What if I did read everything wrong? What if she’s not into me like that?"

Jesse tilted his head. "Are you into her like that?"

Ellie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He smiled. "Then fix it, you idiot."

But Ellie just sat there, heart caught somewhere between hope and dread, wondering how the hell she was supposed to explain the mess when you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

For the rest of the week, you did your best to act like everything was fine.

Avoiding Ellie wasn’t hard, exactly. Not at first. You slipped out early to grab coffee before she left for work. And you told yourself—again and again—that it didn’t hurt. That you weren’t letting your mind wander back to the way she’d smiled at you in her dim little apartment, the way her voice had gone all soft and reverent when she’d talked about her guitar and her favorite bands. That you weren’t still thinking about her hoodie, folded on your couch like something sacred, something almost yours.

But even so… you missed her. And she noticed. She wasn’t stupid, either. Every time Ellie walked past your apartment, her chest tightened just a little. She couldn’t stop checking—subtle little glances at your windows, your doormat, listening for footsteps inside. But she was met with nothing, just pure silence.

It had been nine days. Nine days since your almost-date. Since you wore her hoodie and sat so close she could smell your shampoo. Since you’d yawned around midnight and she’d practically panicked, blurting something awkward about how you didn’t have to go but also yeah totally if you’re tired cool cool yeah no worries. And she hadn’t even walked you to your place. Just stood there, heart in her throat, as you smiled at her one last time without kissing her. Now you didn’t even look at her. And Ellie? Ellie didn’t know how to fix it.

That evening, a thunderstorm rolled in with no warning. It was more chilly than you expected, and by the time you realized, Ellie’s hoddie was back like a second skin. You tried to lie to yourself, thinking you were too tired to open the winter clother box. But in reality, it was just to feel it again. You’d tried to settle into a book, when the lights suddenly flickered… and then went out. You sat in stunned silence for a beat before peeking out your window and confirmed what you feared—the whole damn block was dark. Not a gleam streetlamp in sight.

And the worst part? You didn’t have a single candle. So you were swallowed by black-pitched darkness. You were just settled back onto your couch, the book long forgotten by now, when someone knocked. A soft, tentative knock. You froze. And then came her voice.

"Hey… It’s Ellie."

Your heart did a little jump, stupid and immediate. You stood slowly, suddenly all too aware of your pajama shorts and the way your hair had half-dried in soft, tangled waves.

You opened the door. Ellie stood there holding two thick candles—one already lit, the other one tucked under her arm—and a slightly sheepish expression. She was wearing a red flannel, straight jeans, and a pair of black Converse. Her hair was tucked messily behind her ears, her freckles barely visible in the low light.

"Power’s out," she said.

"Yeah. I noticed."

She shifted her weight, and if she had noticed you wearing her hoodie, she chose not to say anything. "Thought you might need these."

You took the candles from her slowly, your fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her hand was warm. You swallowed. "Thanks."

Ellie nodded, but didn’t move. She glanced into your apartment and then back at you, chewing the inside of her cheek. "You okay?" she asked. "You’ve been, uh, quiet lately."

You hesitated, trying to ignore the knot isnide your chest. She had noticed. Your heart beat against your ribs, stubborn and tired. "Yeah. I’m fine."

A pause. "You’ve been avoiding me."

Your breath caught as you looked away. "No, I haven’t."

Ellie tilted her head, gently, like she knew you were lying. "Okay. Cool, then."

"Do you wanna come in?" You mumbled, stepping back. Fuck. Why’d you even said that?

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Only if it’s okay."

You nodded once. "Yes. It’s okay." So she stepped in.

The candlelight made everything feel hazier, slower. Her shadow danced across your floor as she walked toward your living room and stood awkwardly near your bookshelf, hands shoved into her hoodie pocket. You followed her in, set the candles on the table, and sat.

Ellie sat too—but not too close. She glanced around, then down at her lap.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," she said finally, voice soft. "The other day. At my place."

"You didn’t," you said too quickly. She looked up. You wrung your hands in your lap. "I just… It was silly for me to misread the situation, I guess."

Ellie blinked, then blinked again. "What do you mean?"

You gave her a look. "You know. I saw you with the girl... friend."

Realization dawned on her face. "Dina?"

You didn’t answer. Great. She had a great name too.

Ellie let out a breath and leaned back. "She’s not my girlfriend. She’s—God—she’s like my sister. We’ve known each other since middle school. We were talking about Uncharted."

That made you look at her. "Uncharted?"

"Yeah, she was making fun of me for being obsessed with it, and playing the stupid game the whole night. It wasn’t flirting."

A small laugh broke out of you before you could stop it, quick and surprised. Ellie smiled—just a little. And then the room got quiet again. That flickering, charged quiet where neither of you really knew what to say next.

Until Ellie whispered, "You look really good in my hoodie."

You swallowed hard, but didn’t answer. Ellie’s gaze flicked to yours. Her cheeks were flushed, soft pink in the candlelight, but smiled anyway.

"I thought maybe you were gonna kiss me," she murmured.

You felt your whole face go warm. "I wanted to."

She blinked slowly. "Then why didn’t you?"

"I got scared."

Ellie’s voice was barely above a whisper. "Me too."

You looked at her then. She looked nervous, her knee bouncing like she couldn’t sit still. She was leaning in just a little—but not enough. Like she was halfway between running and staying. And then she said it, "can I try again?"

Your breath caught. You nodded once, biting your lower lip unconsciously. And this time, she leaned all the way in, her hands finding your cheeks. The kiss was soft, shy, and barely there—like both of you were scared it would vanish if you moved too fast. But then she pressed in a little closer, and your hand slid gently to her cheek, and she smiled against your mouth.

And when you pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. In the flickering candlelight, everything else faded. No hallway whispers. No misunderstandings. Just Ellie. Warm and nervous and real.

The morning sun peeked in lazily through Ellie’s half-drawn curtains. The green-eyed girl had been working her ass off last week, and still pleaded you to wake her up once you did, but you weren’t going to do it. She needed the sleep. So here you were now, bleary-eyed, standing barefoot in her kitchen and wearing Ellie’s Pink Floyd oversized shirt.

You were trying to figure out the ancient coffee machine she kept saying 'wasn’t that bad' when you heard the apartment door creak open. No knock. No announcement. Just a solid, casual entrance. You froze with one hand on your chest, wide-eyed.

"Ellie, if you’re gonna leave your damn wrench where I can trip over it, I swear to—"

You turned just in time for him to round the corner into the living room, carrying a paper bag and squinting toward the kitchen. He paused when he saw you. His eyes dropped to the oversized shirt, the unbrushed hair, your whole deer-in-headlights vibe. His brow lifted—just slightly—but it said everything. "Well," he said slowly, adjusting the grip on the bag, "you ain’t Ellie."

You cleared your throat. "Um—no. She’s still asleep. I think. Probably."

The man stared at you for another long beat, then sighed through his nose and gave a slow, skeptical nod. "Right."

And just like that, Ellie burst out of her room, hair a mess, wearing a tank top, some boxers and a mismatched pair of socks, looking completely and utterly disoriented.

"Oh—shit," she groaned, voice thick with sleep. "Joel. What—uh—what are you—what time is it?"

Joel raised the bag. "Brought you breakfast. And coffee. Thought I’d surprise you. Guess you beat me to it."

Your face was probably nuclear at that point. Ellie looked like she might combust from within. Joel’s gaze shifted between the two of you. He let out a grunt. "Well. I’ll be damned."

"I’m gonna—uh—bathroom. I’m gonna use it. Yours," you muttered, already halfway down the corridor. "Yep. Bathroom. Gone." You shut the door behind you and leaned against it, hand covering your face.

Out in the living room, there was a heavy pause.

"So," Joel began, in a voice that could only mean trouble, "you finally got your head outta your ass."

"Dude. Please." Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. "She’s not— I mean—we’re not, like… together together."

Joel arched a brow. "Does she know that? ‘Cause she’s wearin’ half your closet and looked quite comfortable in your kitchen."

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed. No response. No correction. Joel nodded to himself. "Didn’t think so."

"I didn’t say anything!" Ellie hissed, lowering her voice like you might somehow hear through the closed door.

"But you ain’t denying it either, kiddo." Joel said smugly. "Look, I’m not gonna give you the whole dad speech or... whatever. You’re grown. But if that girl’s gonna be hangin’ around, I expect you to treat her right. Like how I raised you. No ghostin’. No weird mind games. No—"

Ellie sputtered. "Jesus, Joel, can you not?"

"You like her or not?" He asked calmly.

She was quiet for a long beat. "…Yeah," she said, voice soft and barely audible.

Joel grunted, satisfied. "Then don’t be an idiot."

The bathroom door creaked open a second later. You emerged, trying your best to look composed despite the fact your heart was definitely doing somersaults.

Joel glanced between the two of you, and his face softened for just a second—like he was genuinely happy for Ellie. "Well," he said. "I should get goin’. You kids behave."

Ellie groaned, already anticipating some parting remark. "Don’t say it—"

Joel ignored her entirely, giving you a quick, amused glance. "Good luck dealin’ with this one," he said, jerking a thumb at Ellie like she wasn’t standing right there. "And bon appétit."

You grinned. "Thanks for the breakfast."

"Take care," Joel said with a wink, then stepped out the door and closed it behind him with a soft click.

A moment of silence settled over the apartment. You turned slowly to face Ellie, arms crossed, squinting with faux betrayal. "You. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Me?" Ellie blinked, slightly offended. "What?"

"Don’t 'what' me, Williams," you said, marching toward her dramatically. "Your dad, or whatever he is—just walks in like he owns the place and finds me in your shirt, barefoot and barely awake, making a fool of myself trying to work that prehistoric coffee machine—"

"You mean the beautifully vintage coffee machine?" she interjected, raising a hand in mock offense.

You shoved her shoulder gently. "Don’t deflect! I looked like I had just rolled out of bed after a one-night stand!"

Ellie choked. "You didn’t! You—you look cute."

Your brain short-circuited at that for half a second, but you rallied. "I was wearing your clothes, Ellie!"

"I didn’t tell you to wear my clothes!" she argued, but her voice was breathless, half-laughing. "And you do look cute!"

You shoved her again, this time with both hands, and she stumbled backward into the couch, grinning as she caught herself.

"Oh, okay, so it’s my fault," she said, recovering. "Next time, I’ll just let you walk around naked. Note taken."

"You didn’t even try to explain!" you pointed out, still feigning dramatic offense.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, though her face and ears were red. "Okay, okay, you’re right! I panicked!"

"You liked it," you accused.

"I did not—!" Ellie protested, but she was laughing mid-sentence. "Okay—maybe. Maybe a little. It was kinda… nice. I mean, not the surprise Joel part. That part sucked."

You hovered above her where she’d half-sunk into the couch cushions, breathless from all the mock fighting, face flushed. The laughter slowed between you both.

"It was nice," you echoed, voice soft now. "Him thinking I was your girlfriend."

Ellie looked up at you, suddenly quiet, her grin faded into something gentler, something almost vulnerable. "You didn’t run away screaming, so… that’s something."

You dropped your gaze, fighting a shy smile. "I thought about it. Then I remembered I still have your hoodie, and you’d probably come after me."

Ellie sat up a little straighter, nudging your knee with hers. "Damn right I would’ve. It’s one of my favorites, you know."

"You’re unbelievable."

"But charming," she added hopefully.

You tilted your head like you were thinking it over. "Eh. You’re on thin ice."

She reached over and poked your side, making you squirm. "I brought you breakfast."

"That was mostly Joel." You finally let yourself smile fully, sitting beside her and tucking your legs underneath you, shoulder brushing hers.

"But I didn’t stop him," she said proudly. "You’re welcome."

You laughed again, leaning your head on her shoulder without thinking. It just felt natural. Warm. Safe.

Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper: "You can… stay. If you want. A little longer. You don’t have to rush back."

You didn’t lift your head. "You sure? I might steal more of your clothes."

"I’d let you," she mumbled. Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, she added, "they look better on you anyway."

Your heart flipped. "God," you murmured, eyes closing, "you’re such a loser."

"Yours though," she said under her breath.

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HER motionless figure standing at your doorstep is what greeted you as soon as you opened your door.

'This is a dream,' you convinced yourself. But the cold breeze of air on your thin nightgown was telling you otherwise. It took you full three seconds before it finally sank into your mind that it truly was Se-mi who was knocking at your door— in the middle of the night.

Your eyes drifted down to her hands that held a bouquet, your favorite ones at that.

Seeing that she didn't get any reaction from you, Se-mi cleared her throat, offering the flower in your direction, "Can I come—"

Pushing the flowers out of your face, you hissed, "What the f*ck are you doing here?"

She chuckled at your response, "Well, isn't that a great way to greet your girlfriend? C'mon, let's go inside and talk. It's cold out here."

"I don't have a girlfriend. If you feel cold, you can f*ck off and leave," you grumbled, holding the side of your door, pushing it enough so it could close.

But before the door could close, you felt her shoes block the space left between the door.

With the bouquet discarded on the floor, Se-mi pushed the door open, pulling you in for a hug. You tried to budge out of her arms, but her tight hold on you made it hard for you to. You could feel her warm breath on your neck, before moving up to your ears and whispered, "Baby, please. I miss you so f*cking much."

She placed her hands on your shoulders, pulling away to lean her face close to yours. Staring into your eyes, she begged, "Let's talk. I'll tell you everything, I promise. Just let me explain—"

Using enough strength, you pushed her hands away from your shoulders, "No, Se-mi. I can't understand how you have the courage to come here. After what you've done to me?"

Grasping your hand, she replied, "I know I was wrong— that's why I'm here, to apologize and make it up to you," despite seeing you shake your head, she continued, wishing for you to change your mind, "I came here to explain everything the things you don't understand so we can make things work again—"

Once again, you pulled your hand away from hers, "I don't want to understand anything."

Pointing your fingers in her direction, you exclaimed, "I'm tired of trying to understand you, and I'm tired of trying to justify your actions even though it's clear that you never loved me!"

With tears welling up in your eyes, you managed to choke up, "Why do you keep doing this to me, Se-mi?"

Se-mi stayed silent, biting the inside of her cheeks as she held back her tears. Even with you protesting, she held you right back into your arms.

Why does she keep pushing herself to you? Even when you already said you didn't want to?

Your hands formed into a fist, hitting her chest with weak force as you finally broke down into her arms, "I gave you everything I had, I sacrificed everything for you. Isn't that enough? What more do you want from me?!"

Your tears were falling on her shirt, but Se-mi couldn't care less about it at the moment. Not when you're in this fragile state.

You were trembling, knees getting weaker as more tears flowed down your cheeks.

Instead of saying anything, she allowed you to vent your feelings to her, "Se-mi, I gave up my dreams just to stay here with you— but then you what? You left me!"

With your head on her leaning on her shoulders, you collapsed right into her arms.

Seeing your unconscious state, she cursed herself internally. You were put into so much stress at the moment just by seeing her.

Se-mi wrapped one of your arms around her neck, her own on your back while the other held the back of your knees. With a firm hold, she lifted you at ease, holding you close to her body. She carried you back to your room.

Just like before, nothing seemed to have changed. Your room still looks the same as it did before she left. Except for the discarded box in the corner that contains some items, she knew oh so well.

Those were the clothes she forgot whenever she'd stay here in your room. Whenever she'd seek your comfort every time things got too tough for her to handle.

Come to think of it, Se-mi was always the one sharing and venting any time you two spend your time with each other. You were always the one who listened and comforted the other.

Se-mi felt sh*tty of herself.

You always give your best when it comes to her, while she barely does anything in return.

Maybe, it was a mistake that she came back here.

With a heavy sigh escaping her lips, she took a step forward, walking toward your bed. She gently placed you down, covering your body with your blanket.

Se-mi's palm gently touched your cheek, softly caressing your skin. She leaned down, kissing your forehead.

"I love you, I'm sorry."

With one final look, Se-mi stood up and walked out of the door.

The first sound she let out was a tired, pained groan as she tried to sit up. "Are you crazy?" You blurted, rushing to her side to guide her back down. It was then that you seemed to realize she was awake, emerald eyes staring back up at you in confusion and a hint of fear. A loud gasp fell from your lips as your fingers traveled from her arms up to her face. "You're awake." You said, lip quivering in a failed attempt not to cry. "A-Are you hurting? Can we get some in here! She's awake!"

"Is that a question?" Ellie's voice was rough. Had she not been so grateful to be awake, laying her eyes on you it'd have come out with more snark. She was stubborn on trying to sit up just hours after surgery, pushing herself up on her fists.

"Are you making a joke right now?" You were more a mix of dumbfounded and relieved than annoyed right now. Lord knows you should be. Your girlfriend was fricking Spider-woman. That was a big thing.

"Now that you're crying? No, of course not." Ellie reached up to swipe your tears before they could fall off your face and onto the sheets. Her hand was ever so gentle in cupping your face. She swallowed as she took you in, not sure what to say to make this right.

None of this was right. She had unintentionally sprung everything on you when she landed at your window tonight. How long had it been, actually? Had she been out for days? What did they do to her? Ellie's mind was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming need for answers.

Her hand slipped down to rest on top of yours. She licked her chapped lips, brows furrowing. "Did they find me in--"

At the mention of the suit, you pulled away and wiped your face. “I hid it.” You said quietly. “I hid the suit and whatever..came out of you," The words tumbled out of your mouth as you were forced to think about the panic you felt just hours ago. The swirl of emotions sat deep in your stomach, threatening to rise up and come out in a way you couldn't control. So to stop it, you pulled away.

Ellie could sense it and it made her want to climb out of the bed just to hold you and apologize a million times over. Somehow that still felt inadequate. "And they're still at your apartment?" She dug her fingers into her palm. It was a better thing to focus on than how she messed up.

"I'm sorry, is that what you're worried about now?" You hadn't meant to sound pissed, but maybe you were. Maybe you were more than scared out of your mind you were gonna lose her. Maybe you were frustrated and pissed--beyond pissed-- that she had kept this from you. And maybe mad at yourself thinking of all the times you should've known, all the times she was hurt and you weren't there--

Once again, she didn't know what to say. For the first time, she wasn't looking at you. It was a painful sight to linger on, her sunken features downcast under fluorescent lights and surrounded by beeping machines and wires. You were still fuming, but you couldn't be now. "I'm not mad. I'm not mad." You whispered, more to yourself than her, as you sat back next to her because what were you doing pulling away from her in the first place?

"It'd be okay if you were. I mean, if you are." She said with a humorless laugh. That wasn't the sound you wanted to hear. "If I were you, I would be. I get it--"

"Ellie, I'm not." You rubbed your brows. You shook your head as if it would make all your thoughts fall right where you wanted them to be. "Ok, that a lie, but-- I don't want to be. I just wanna be happy that you're okay and I am. So, I'll be that. Only that." You grabbed her hand in an attempt to remind yourself that she was alive and okay, so everything was fine.

If you weren't convinced by your disjointed rant, you know Ellie wasn't. She wouldn't say it though. She wouldn't dare tell you how to feel when she came to your window bloodied, bruised, and shot. "I'm sorry," Her eyes welled up with tears she had failed to swipe up before they fell. She couldn't bring herself to. For years she felt like she had this band over her mouth, reminding her she had this huge secret she had no one to share with and only now had it given up and snapped. "I'm sorry," Was the only thing she could make herself say.

"Oh, baby--" You tried your best to pull her into your side without aggravating the recent wound in her side. She had hid certain parts of her life behind a wall and you had learned to live with it, hoping that one day she'd feel comfortable enough to let you in. This was it, you thought.

She had let a few more tears fall, along with "I'm sorry"'s, before the sobbing had gotten to her gut, almost like a literal knife twisting in just to make things extra hurtful. Even then, she hadn't had the right words in mind. Instead, she held on your arm like her life depended on it. And that worked for a while. Though, not forever.

"Ellie." No response. "Ellie, can you look at me?" Her eyes flicked up to you with glassy eyes. It a sight you'd never experienced before and never wanted to again. "From now on, you're gonna tell me everything, okay?" You were persistent in wiping each tear as it fell. "And..I tell you everything, even if it's something you quite frankly won't give a shit about. And you tell me everything, even the-" You lowered your voice. "Even the Spider stuff."

"Yeah, okay." Her hands grabbed yours from her face and brought them to her lips. She sniffled as she gripped your hands. "I can do that,"

Healing from a gunshot wound was no doubt hard. It was harder when you were antsy to get some action. No, not that kind. (Though, she wasn't opposed.) The superhero-ing kind. Ellie missed swinging through the air and feel the wind all around her as all her problems became like tiny specks on paper. Of course she missed saving people and feeling needed by her city, but that had seemed to increase her risk of losing you. She had decided that wasn't an option, so she put Spider-woman on the backburner for right now, mostly.

She was slightly hunched over her computer in your newly shared apartment. There was no way you could back to your apartment after what happened and not enough space in Ellie's for the two of you to live in, so insert the supposedly inexpensive--totally expensive, it's new york let's be real--one bedroom, one bathroom beauty you now lived in.

Ellie brows furrowed as she felt somebody's hands wrap around her neck. The fact that her senses were relaxed and your scent was filling the air told her it was you. "Whatcha doing?" You nosed at her neck. "Fucking up your posture or just trying to get your dailies?"

She let out a snort. "Why not both? I like to multitask."

"Of course you do." You came up to stare at the screen. It was opened up youtube on some gaming video, but you weren't convinced. Your hand was on top of hers in a second, moving the mouse to click the other tabs. "Hey--!"

You weren't far from letting out an 'aha!' now that your suspicions had been proved right. She was knee-deep in articles about her absence, the surfacing of alien tech, the effects of the first alien invasion a couple years back in 2012. Deep in the rabbit-hole. "El..you said you were taking a break." Your hands fell to your sides.

"I was! I am." Ellie turned around in her chair, slowly so as not to feel that familiar sting in her side. "I'm just reading. That's not illegal." Ellie’s hands chased yours in an attempt to soothe your disappointment before you voiced it.

“Ever since you could walk again, you’ve been at this computer for hours, hun.” Her attempt fell flat as you moved to sit on the edge of desk, eyes glued to bright screen as it would change any moment. You wished it would. Then, you could have your girlfriend back.

“I’m at home for hours. I have to find something to fill the time.” Even her shitty excuse didn’t convince her. You were still practically sulking at the edge of the desk. “Hey,” She said softly. “I’m still relying on you to get up and down the stairs. I don’t think I’m gonna be swinging any soon.” She said, lighthearted. “Babe?” You hummed, eyes still glued to the screen. 

You weren’t sure you were ready for her to get back out there again, nor was her body. Well, the first part was a lie. You definitely didn’t want her to go back. It was selfish, that was obvious, but that didn’t change your mind. That didn’t change the fact that she was still hurting because some asshole on the street shot her with some superpowered gun. 

Ellie leaned closer, reaching her hand up to angle your chin down to her. “You don’t believe me.” She said in realization, eyes flicked between yours with a hint of hurt. She really couldn’t blame you, she wasn’t convincing herself either. 

“No, I don’t.” It hurt to peel her hand from your chin and walk away, but you did. You ignored her attempts to call after you, closing the door behind you and dragging your feet in the kitchen. You had concerned yourself with some attempt at cooking a dish you cared nothing about, but lucky for you your shitty cooking could keep you busy for hours.

Ellie had wandered into kitchen to check on you, shoulders going limp at the sight of you pitifully pushing food around in a pan. She approached you carefully and slowly, turning the stove off and setting the pan aside. "So," She inhaled slowly, hands wringing together. "You're mad at me,"

"I'm not mad at you." You shot back, taking the pan from the counter to put it right back on the still-hot stove. With a passive aggressive smile, you flipped it back on. "What would I be mad about?" Now that was a stupid question.

"I've got some idea." Ellie was quick in turning the stove off and snatching the pan from your hand. She sighed at the slosh of opaque orange liquid painting the counter and the floor. "Great." She said under her breath moving to grab a wad of paper towels and crouch down before a stabbing pain in her side reminded her to slow down.

Your irritation softened as you shot out to stable her and guide her onto the island. "You gotta be careful, El. You can't move like that yet." The mess on the other side of your kitchen was the last of your worries. "Are you okay? Does it still hurt?" You rolled up the bottom of her tank top to lay your eyes on the wound. No bleeding, okay. That's good.

"I'm fine. I'm..more worried about you, I swear you haven't breathed in a two minutes." Ellie's cold hands on your arms were oddly grounding, pulling you from your small moment of panic.

Your first breath in a while sounded something like a wheeze. Rolling her shirt back down, you pushed yourself off the counter--and away from the palpable concern from Ellie's eyes alone. Now the spill was helpful in distracting you, allowing you to distance yourself from the very familiar conversation you had been pushing back for weeks. You had realized your were practically buffing the polish of the counter until Ellie pulled at your arm, her other hand holding your waist.

"It's clean and I'm fine." Her voice was quiet and yet it cut through your raging thoughts effortlessly. It took the same amount of effort to turn you around to face her and to pry the towel out of your hands. "Let's get you clean," She could see you coming up with a way to decline and she was having none of it. If she couldn't even clean up her own mess, she'd at least calm your worries. Or at least try. "We'll both get clean, okay?"

Steam became a curtain around the two of you as you both worked up a lather. (No, not like that you perv.) You didn’t want to admit the hot water hitting your bare skin had been quite calming, though it didn’t do anything to stop the force that was your overthinking mind.

“Hey, I can hear you thinking.” Ellie’s arms around your waist was a pleasant surprise. You could feel a few strands of her damp hair tickling your neck, making a few giggled escape your lips. “This is the no thinking zone, babe.” She mumbled against your neck, trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder.

“Then..how can I talk?”

"You don't need to do that either." She kissed your cheek, hand loosening it's grip on your waist and slipping lower. You gasped, grabbing her hand.

"Is that why you wanted to shower together?" You turned around, taking a step forward just to watch her inevitably back up to the tile. A raise of her brows told you she was shocked, but not unreceptive to what you were doing. The mix of needy haze and admiration in her eyes fueled your confidence to tease her even further. "You just wanted to get me all distracted?" Your rested your arms on her shoulder, fingers combing through her wet locks.

"Maybe I was being a good girlfriend and wanted to calm you down, which succeeded at." She usually wasn't this smug but she felt she'd earned the right. She was forced to sit on her ass almost all hours of the day, but that didn't mean she was completely useless.

"You are a good girlfriend." You blurted. "You're the best girlfriend, you know that?" Your teasing smirk turned into something genuine. "And I'm not just saying that because you literally saved my life. I'm saying that cause I.." Love you. "because I need you." It wasn't what you wanted to say, you were too scared to say the real thing. Scared that if you said it and allowed your relationship to progress any further, it'd be harder to watch her go everyday and know that might be the day you lose her to some supervillian with a vendetta. Besides, it was true. You needed her.

Ellie looked stunned at your admission and everything behind it. She let her forehead touch yours, sighing shakily as she took in your words. "I need you more," It was funny, if you were imaginative enough you could replace the need with love in a beautiful reality where New York didn't need saving and you could have her to yourself.

You were yanked out of your mind by Ellie's lip crashing into yours. A surprised sound made it out your lips only to come out muffled. You kissed back with just as much, if not more, intensity as she gave you. Your hands tangled in her hair as you lost yourself in the feel of her, no longer stuck in your mind. However, when her hand started to slip down, you hesitated. "Ellie, you haven't been cleared yet-"

"Don't care," She mumbled against your lips. "It'll be worth it." She pulled back to look at you, eyes dark with a need you haven't seen in her before. Between school, her internship, her secret vigilante-ing and then her getting hurt, you hadn't exactly made the time to have that talk.

"You say that now," Your brows were furrowed in concern. They only tightened when your eyes traveled down to her wound. It was healing for sure, but the idea of her in any pain at all hurt you too.

"Hey, it’s healing." Her hand was warm on your neck, finger swiping over your jaw. "Super-healing, remember?" She tilted her head so your eyes were drawn to her face instead of her wound.

"How can I forget?" You said sarcastically. "What other super things can you do?" You asked, genuine curiosity drowning underneath the tease in your voice. “Catch flies?”

"Keep it up, bug.” Ellie snorted, using her strength to hoist you up an inch from the ground. “Air-jail, how bout that?” 

“Ellie!” You yelped as the water came down the strands of your hair and your back, making you feel something like a wet dog. She knew how much you hated having wet hair and was using it to her advantage. “Put me down, right now!” You were only in the air for a few more seconds before she had you situated in her arms. If you could see how you looked clinging onto her, you would’ve busted out laughing. 

“Just showing you my super-strength.” She nosed at your collarbone as she put you down. “And being a really good girlfriend.” She was aware being a good girlfriend would mean being completely honest with you. She hadn’t been before and she was for sure stalling now, but she could make it up later. She wasn’t ready to deal with the complexities brought into your relationship by a certain arachnoid persona. For now, she’d enjoy making you happy for once.