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Something Like Truth —   ongoing series Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader | Hurt/Comfort, Smut | 50,388 words

tags: personal favorite, modern au, therapist!rhysand, psychology undergrad!y/n, patient!y/n, situationship, depression, mental health, burnout, heavier topics as series progresses, look at the tags im so fr, this is incredibly inappropriate, do not do this with your therapist, ...but what if you did (seriously dont)

Wings of Illyria  —   ongoing AU Azriel x Reader | Smut | 29,653 words

tags: personal favorite, band au, modern au, rhys cass and az are in your favorite band. gee, i wonder what i’ll write about y/n and az, feysand, (not featured yet but I Have Ideas: nessian, elucien)

Close Quarters —   complete short series Cassian x Reader x Azriel x Rhysand | Smut | 19,451 words

tags: modern au, ex!cassian, forced proximity, foursome, and they were roommates (kinda), some mlm, mysterious lockdown, lots of smut tags

Breaking the Ice — complete series Multicharacter x Reader | Smut | 70,439

tags: hockey au, modern au, established relationship (with cassian), homie-hopping, infidelity, big argument

Lectures & Lechery Nyx x Reader | Fluff | 1,805 words read here

When a quiet morning in Nyx's room takes a turn with an unexpected knock on the door, you find yourself crouched behind a glamour as his father walks in. tags: secret dating, glamour, references to past rake behavior

Stay, If You Mean It Morrigan x Reader | Smut | 3,129 words read here

After years apart, one open door is all it takes to bring everything rushing back—heat, history, and the kind of hunger that never really went away. tags: old flame, touchy relationship (ish)

Interrogation Tactics Azriel x Reader | Smut | 15,801 words read here

You're an Autumn Court spy visiting the Night Court with Eris. Azriel doesn't trust you—but he doesn't stay away, either. You wear soft dresses and offer harmless smiles, but the secrets you're after could tip the balance between courts. tags: spies, autumn court!reader, slightly questionable relationship with eris, slow burn (as slow as can be in a one shot)

Soft Places to Land Rhysand x Reader | Hurt/Comfort | 4,751 words read here

In the rain, in the quiet, healing begins—not with grand gestures, but with presence. tags: suicidal ideation (non-graphic), depression, dissociation, mention/discussion of past sexual abuse (non-graphic, described with emotional detail), mention of court proceedings, trauma aftermath, emotional distress

What Was Bought, What Was Taken Eris x Reader | Hurt/Comfort | 5,310 words read here

He asked for your hand like you were a favor to be traded. When the mating bond snaps in the Court of Nightmares, furious but powerless, you're taken to Autumn. tags: coercion, emotional manipulation, all warnings that come with Keir and the Hewn City, Eris is actually a nice guy what? (yes it's true), mentions of abuse, dead parents, mates, idk if i'd actually say hurt/comfort but idk what else it would be tbh

The Moment Between Heartbeats Azriel x Reader | Smut | 4,865 words read here

You return to Velaris with gratitude in your heart and a wedding on the horizon. You never meant to cross paths with him. You never meant for anything to change. But fate has its own timing. And its own tether. tags: infidelity, medical emergency (not main characters), azriel sulks for a sec there, mates

The Silence You Built Azriel x Reader | Smut | 19,803 words read here

You betrayed him once. He never let you forget it. Now you're on the same side again, bound by court politics, old grudges, and a mission that ends in blood. tags: lots of lies and deceit, reader cant fight lmfao she only knows enough to get by, angsty tbh, enemies to lovers, 1k Celebration fic

House Rules Cassian x Reader | Hurt/Comfort | 2,722 words read here

One empty table, two full glasses, and years of not saying the wrong thing finally catching up to you. tags: friends to lovers, jealousy, emotional unavailability (reader lmao), argument, repressed feelings, 1k Celebration fic

Where the Smoke Settled Eris x Reader | Smut | 8,132 words read here

You live alone at the edge of the woods, content with your herbs and your quiet. Then you cross paths with Eris Vanserra in the forest—and something long-buried starts to stir. tags: hidden feelings, misunderstandings, 1k Celebration fic

Before the Thorns Tamlin x Reader | Fluff | 11,111 words read here

You met Tamlin when you were five, and every summer after that was his. Years later, you return to Spring and find that he's grown into someone you almost recognize. Almost. But the way he smiles at you? That hasn't changed a bit. tags: friends to lovers, childhood friends, honestly just you and tam having a good time fr, 1k Celebration fic

Meant to Stand Cassian x Reader | Smut | 15,717 words read here or on AO3

Rhysand has one request: restore a half-collapsed cabin into something fit for veteran Illyrians. The catch? You'll be doing it with Cassian—and the two of you haven't truly spoken since that mission four years ago. tags: personal favorite, enemies to lovers, only one bed, 1k Celebration fic

This Tempest, Ours Rhysand x Reader | Smut | 11,712 words read here or on AO3

On a rare night alone in the House of Wind, the worst storm in decades strikes. It wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t make you so uneasy. Luckily, the House isn’t as empty as you thought. tags: personal favorite, friends to lovers, comfort, consensual use of daemati, one bed trope but it’s a sleeping bag, 1k Celebration fic

Drunk on You Azriel x Reader | Smut | 11,237 words read here

You and Azriel were just friends. Then came the dancing. The kiss. The night you stopped pretending. tags: personal favorite, friends to lovers, drunken clubbing with the IC (shenanigans ensue), 1k Celebration fic

A Study in Power Lucien x Reader | Smut | 3,503 words read here

You're in the Spring Court, playing the dutiful emissary while navigating its fractured politics. But when your mentor's gaze lingers too long, when his touch strays past propriety, resisting him becomes a far more dangerous game. tags: forbidden romance, power dynamics, lucien is HOT (duh), 1k Celebration fic

Signed, Sealed, Unspoken Rhysand x Reader | Smut | 21,478 words read here or on AO3

Following a long and brutal war, the Dusk Court has finally reclaimed the lands seized by the Night Court generations ago. Yet its new capital, Velaris, remains tangled in the Night Court's intricate trade agreements. Now, negotiations are underway. tags: personal favorite, enemies to lovers, letter-writing, 1k Celebration fic

Ashes Beneath the Sky Azriel x Reader | Hurt / Comfort | 4,783 words read here

Rhysand and Feyre call for a mission to ambush the Autumn Court's reinforcements, a dangerous strike in the midst of war. Despite Azriel's insistence that you stay behind, you can't resist sneaking along. tags: enemies to lovers, miscommunications/misunderstandings, big argument, 1k Celebration fic

Something Precious Azriel x Reader | Fluff | 2,095 words read here

Azriel has always been steady, unwavering—but the way you look at him makes something shift. Small moments, fleeting words, a tension neither of you acknowledge… until it’s impossible for him to ignore. tags: established relationship, y/n has crippling insecurity

No Room for Error Azriel x Reader | Smut | 1,490 words read here

Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. tags: azriel + y/n mission, enemies (no lovers but...)

The Hand That Holds Azriel x Reader | Smut | 4,938 words read here

You and Azriel visit a bakery in Velaris, but tension rises when your ex-boyfriend tries to provoke him. tags: established relationship, y/n's ex is a jackass, azriel is Not

Cursed Flame Eris x Reader | Smut | 8,008 words read here

When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. tags: healer!y/n, arrogant eris (so just eris)

Shadows at Twilight Nesta & Azriel | Angst | 2,275 words read here

Azriel and Nesta's Thursday night smoke sessions become a lifeline. As tensions rise, the fragile balance they've been trying to maintain begins to falter. tags: personal favorite, modern au, stoners!nesta+azriel, anotherdrug!nesta, big argument, not reader-insert, not slash

Beneath the Vines Lucien x Reader | Smut | 6,717 words read here

Seeking refuge from court politics in a secluded part of the forest, Lucien meets a female from the Summer Court searching for a hidden spring. He offers to guide her, but their journey takes an unexpected turn when he comes into contact with a mysterious pollen... tags: sex pollen, outdoor sex, gentle (but frenzied make no mistake)

Multitasking Rhysand x Reader | Fluff | 368 words read here

Law books, bare shoulders, and a little harmless multitasking. tags: light flirtation, slightly suggestive, law student!rhys, established relationship, tw: excel sheets lmao

Night Watch Azriel x Reader | Fluff | 384 words read here

Your baby is crying in the middle of the night (as they tend to do), but with Azriel, there's no need to stress. tags: az cares for your baby in the night (pls refer to this post i beg you)

Moonlit Waltz Rhysand x Reader | Fluff | 418 words read here

Amidst the festivities of the city, you and Rhysand share a quiet dance in the moonlight, surrounded by the magic of the night and the warmth of each other’s gaze. tags: dancing with the stars but the star is rhys and also it's not a show you're just dancing with rhys

Held by a Whisper Tamlin x Reader | Angst | 942 words read here

In his final moments, Tamlin grapples with pain and regret as you desperately try to save him. He faces the inevitable with a heart full of unspoken words. tags: war (kinda sucks, death (this sucks too), too little too late yall

Rushing or Dragging Azriel | Angst | 300 words read here

Consumed by self-doubt, a driven Azriel pushes himself to the brink in a relentless pursuit of perfection, trapped in an endless cycle of practice and pain. tags: not reader-insert, inspired by whiplash (2014), just seemed like the self-destructive shit az would do tbh

Busy looked better than avoidant. Busy sounded less pathetic than I don’t know how to stop myself from wanting to hear your voice because you’re not supposed to be mine in any capacity. Busy made sense. It was respectable. 

By the end of the first week, your days had collapsed into a narrow sequence of motions. Alarm. Shower if absolutely necessary. Coffee that went cold before you finished it. Campus. Lab. Class. Lab again. Home after dark, when the apartment windows reflected your own face back at you instead of the city outside. November had settled in properly, all grey skies and wet pavement and wind sharp enough to sting your eyes. Every morning, you wrapped yourself in the same coat and told yourself you were functioning because you kept showing up where you were supposed to. 

Mostly. 

You answered emails with careful punctuation. You sent out survey links. You scheduled participants and updated spreadsheets and forwarded attachments with phrases like no worries and sounds good and attached here. You nodded when someone spoke to you. You smiled when you needed to. You remembered enough names, enough deadlines, enough passwords. 

Nothing was on fire. 

Which, obviously, made it worse because you knew what this was now. 

The first time it had happened, you’d mistaken it for laziness. Then burnout. Then a personality flaw with academic consequences. You’d told yourself you were tired, overwhelmed, antisocial, dramatic, difficult. You had been able to hide inside not knowing. There had been a sort of comfort in that, even if it had hurt. 

There was no comfort at all now. 

Withdrawal. Avoidance. Emotional shutdown. Isolating as a control strategy. Reducing points of contact to minimize perceived demand. Protecting yourself by disappearing before anyone had the chance to ask for more than you could give. 

God, clinical language made everything sound so depressing. 

Then again… 

Wasn’t it? 

Standing in the kitchen at midnight, staring at a bowl of cereal you’d poured over twenty minutes ago and never eaten. Gwyn’s voice muffled through your bedroom door, asking if you wanted to watch something, and your mouth forming around the word maybe even though you both knew it meant no. Lucien sliding a pack of M&Ms toward you in the lab and you pretending not to notice because accepting kindness felt like signing a contract you couldn’t read. Rhysand’s name glowing on your phone and your stomach twisting so violently you turned the screen face down. 

He didn’t text constantly—that would’ve been easier to resent. He gave you space, which was considerate. And unbearable. 

The first message came a couple of days after everything changed. 

Rhysand: Hi. The office let me know they haven’t been able to reach you about getting established with another clinician, either here or at our sister practice. I know the transition isn’t ideal, but I’d really encourage you not to let the progress you’ve made fall into the gap. 

You stared at it in bed, your room still dark, the phone too bright in your hand. You remembered his voice before you’d shown him those pictures—why did you have to show him pictures? Maybe if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be so…

Busy. 

Today had been worse, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe because you’d slept through three alarms. Maybe because you’d stood in the frozen aisle for nearly ten minutes trying to remember what you’d come there for. Maybe because every tiny thing seemed to require the kind of effort usually reserved for moving furniture. Whatever the reason, by the time you got to the lab, you already felt… thin. 

Your participant arrived ten minutes early. Freshman, probably. Nervous. Backpack still slung over both shoulders, student ID hanging crooked around his neck, cheeks pink from the cold. He kept shifting his weight in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if coming in early was breaking some sort of rule. 

“Sorry,” he said for the second time. “I know I’m early.”

You smiled automatically. “No worries at all. Come on back.”

You led him through the lab toward the simulation room, chatting just enough to fill the silence. 

“Have you done a SONA study before?”

He shook his head. “No. First one.”

“Easy place to start, then.”

He laughed nervously.

You handed him the clipboard outside the room while he filled in the consent form, your eyes skimming over the roster more out of habit than necessity. SONA ID matched. Time slot matched. The simulation room was exactly how you’d left it after the last participant. Headset charging. Chair centered beneath the monitor. Everything where it was supposed to be. 

You picked up the laminated instruction sheet, though you hardly looked at it anymore. Halfway through your spiel, your throat tightened unexpectedly. 

“If at any point during the simulation you begin to experience discomfort—sorry.” A small smile. “Dry throat.”

He smiled back politely. “Trust me, I get it. The cold’s got everyone screwed up.”

You cleared your throat and started again. 

“If at any point during the simulation you begin to experience discomfort, please notify me immediately. You’re free to withdraw from the study at any time without penalty. During the navigation task—”

Nothing. 

The sentence disappeared.

You frowned at the page. It was right there, black letters on white paper. You’d read this script so many times you could’ve recited it in your sleep. 

“... Sorry,” you murmured again. 

The participant shifted awkwardly in the driving chair. “No rush.”

You nodded and took another breath, but the words still wouldn’t come. Instead, something behind your ribs lurched sharply, like your body had mistaken breathing for something dangerous. 

Not now. 

You stared at the page until the lines blurred together. 

Your vision burned. 

No. Absolutely not. Not here. 

You lowered the clipboard before the first tear could fall onto it. 

“I’m so sorry,” you heard yourself say, voice strangely thin. “Would you mind giving me just… one minute? I think I left something in the prep room.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, and it felt convincing enough. 

You stepped into the hallway, let the simulation room door swing shut behind you. You made it exactly three doors before realizing you weren’t headed to the prep room at all. 

The restroom. 

The fluorescent lights overhead smeared into long white streaks as you pushed through the door, locked yourself into the first stall, and finally let yourself breathe. 

Only, it wasn’t breathing. 

Your chest hitched once.

Then again. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth before the sound had a chance to escape. 

“Oh, come on,” you whispered into your palm. It wasn’t even about anything. There was no revelation or memory or terrible realization crashing over you. 

You pressed your forehead against the cool metal partition and tried to count your breaths the way you’d been taught. 

One. Two. Three.

Your lungs refused to cooperate, and tears slipped free anyway, hot and humiliating. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered automatically, squeezing your eyes shut harder. 

A quiet knock sounded against the restroom door. 

“(Y/n?)”

Lucien. 

When had he gotten in? 

You swallowed hard before answering. “Yeah?”

Silence stretched for a beat, long enough that you pictured him standing on the other side of the main door, hand still resting against it, trying to decide how much to say. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful. 

“I’ve got your participant.”

You closed your eyes. 

“... Okay.”

“... Take your time.”

His footsteps faded, and his small kindness of not asking what happened nearly started the whole thing over again. 

You’d made it home somehow, not entirely sure when. Shoes still on and backpack where you’d dropped it beside the bedroom door, you’d decided to lie down “for a minute.”

Hours later you were still on the floor. 

Outside, rain tapped lazily against the window, too soft to matter. Somewhere in the apartment, a cabinet door closed. Gwyn had gotten home around twenty minutes ago, followed by the muffled hum of the microwave. 

You should get up. 

You knew that in the same detached way you knew you should answer more emails or do your laundry or eat something beside the handful of chips you’d scavenged from the lab break room before leaving. Instead, you watched the shadows in your room inch across the floor until the grey afternoon dissolved into evening. 

Your phone buzzed somewhere inside your backpack. Once, then again a few minutes later. You ignored both. 

By the third vibration, curiosity outweighed whatever strange inertia had glued you to the ground. You rolled onto your back with a quiet groan, reached blindly toward your bag, and fished the phone from the front pocket. 

The screen lit your face. 

Gwyn: home?

Gwyn: i’m about to watch legally blondeeee :) 

Lucien: Take tomorrow off if you need it, I’ll cover your participants

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t answer him—or Gwyn for that matter. Your thumb hovered uselessly over both conversations before drifting lower, past Cassian, past your advisor. 

The conversation sat exactly where you’d left it two weeks ago. No new messages or missed calls. Just the last thing he’d said before giving you the space you’d been pretending you wanted. 

Rhysand: Hi. The office let me know they haven’t been able to reach you about getting established with another clinician, either here or at our sister practice. I know the transition isn’t ideal, but I’d really encourage you not to let the progress you’ve made fall into the gap. 

You’d read it at least twenty times. Maybe fifty. Either way, it was enough that you could almost hear the cadence of his voice behind every word, smoothing out the clinical edges the way he always had. 

You’d convinced yourself there had to be a version of this that sounded reasonable. Easy to explain. But maybe there wasn’t a clean way to summarize two weeks of disappearing. 

And maybe that was okay. 

You tapped the empty text box. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Gwyn had gone to campus hours ago. The dishwasher hummed softly in the kitchen, cycling through a load she’d started before leaving that morning. Every so often, pipes knocked somewhere in the building walls, and somewhere outside, a dog was barking, the background hum of the city carrying on without you. 

You sat cross-legged on your bed, still wearing yesterday’s sweatshirt, your laptop open beside you. The browser remained exactly as you’d left it, tabs multiplying across the top of the screen in a way that would’ve made Lucien physically ill. 

Ethical violations therapist texting patient. 

Therapist conflict of interest with patient. 

What really counts as a conflict of interest in therapy? 

Can a therapist lie about a conflict of interest?

You hadn’t clicked on anything in almost an hour, just read the same sentences over and over until the words had begun to lose shape. 

Conflict of interest.

The words sat in your mind strangely. You said them aloud, mostly because hearing it in your own voice made it feel more tangible, like something you could actually hold up to the light. 

“Conflict of interest.”

But the room offered nothing back. 

You hadn’t cried. Or screamed. Hadn’t thrown your phone across the room or driven somewhere stupid or curled up on the bathroom floor until Gwyn came home and found you. 

You hadn’t done any of the things you normally did when something hurt. There was just this strange, suspended feeling inside your chest, as though your emotions had gone out to pick up some milk, promising they’d be back eventually. 

Conflict of interest. 

Not inappropriate relationship. Not misconduct. Not I crossed a line. Not I have feelings for you. Not I know you want me to bend you over my desk.

Conflict.

Of.

Interest. 

Meaning there was an interest. A person. Someone outside of you, who already existed in his life, who was important enough that continuing to treat you had become unethical. 

Your gaze drifted toward the ceiling. 

Who?

The first possibility came and went almost immediately. 

Gwyn. 

No. 

Months ago, when you’d still been willing to tell her embarrassing details about therapy without feeling like your own skin was trying to crawl off your body, she’d laughed at the name Rhysand. She’d said it sounded like a failed perfume line. 

No. Gwyn didn’t know him. 

Your attention shifted. 

Lucien…

… Maybe. 

Your phone was already in your hand before you’d consciously decided to pick it up. You opened your messages, scrolled until his name appeared, and hesitated only long enough to convince yourself this wasn’t completely insane. 

You typed. 

(Y/n): random question

(Y/n): do you know anyone named rhysand hale

The message marked as delivered. Then read. Then—

Typing. 

Lucien: Never heard of him

Lucien: Should I be concerned?

You stared at the screen. No. Not Lucien either. 

After sending a quick nah, all good, you set the phone down beside you and leaned back against your headboard, staring at nothing in particular. 

Conflict of interest. 

Your fingers tightened around the sleeve pulled over your hands. And then, very slowly, something cold settled in your stomach. 

Because when you actually thought about it… there really weren’t that many people left. 

“Oh.”

The word escaped before you could stop it, your eyes widening slightly. 

“Oh, no.”

Because suddenly, there was one person you couldn’t believe you hadn’t considered. 

The front door opened just as the thought froze the blood in your veins. 

“Oh, fuck.”

You were off the bed, laptop nearly sliding off the comforter as your knees caught the edge of it. Your phone clattered onto it behind you, grabbed hastily before you hurried into the hallway, socks slipping slightly against the hardwood. 

Gwyn had barely gotten the door shut behind her before she paused, eyebrows lifting. 

“Jesus,” She adjusted her tote higher onto her shoulder. “You look like you just remembered you left a child somewhere.”

You stared at her. 

She stared back. 

Slowly, Gwyn’s expression shifted. 

“...Did you leave a child somewhere?” 

“No.”

“Did someone die?”

“No.”

“Are you dying?”

“I don’t think so.”

She set her bag down. 

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Then what’s with this weird… energy you’ve got.”

You swallowed. 

“I need a favor.”

Gwyn visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank God. I thought this was gonna be another ‘I accidentally destroyed my future’ conversation.”

“It still might be.”

“Wonderful.”

You ran a hand through your hair, already knowing what she’d say.

“I need you to ask Cassian something.”

Gwyn blinked. 

“... You ask him.”

Yep, there it was. 

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” she chuckled, “you’re a grown woman, you have thumbs.”

“Gwyn, please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

That wiped the humor from her face. 

“What do you need me to ask?”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of how insane this all was. 

“I… need you to ask if he knows someone named Rhysand.”

“Rhysand?”

“Rhysand Hale.”

“No, like, Rhysand your therapist, Rhysand?”

“Please.” The word came out quieter than you’d intended. 

Gwyn looked at you another long moment, weighing whatever she saw written across your face. Then she sighed, pulling out her phone. And before you could change your mind, she hit call on Cassian’s contact and put it on speaker. 

The phone only rang once. 

“Hey.”

Cassian’s voice crackled through the speaker, accompanied by the sound of metal clanging somewhere nearby. Music was playing in the background, something classic rock adjacent and tinny through another speaker. 

“Hey, Cass, sorry to bother you at work, just had a quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“So…” she began casually, leaning against the counter. “There’s this guy I saw on Instagram. Really hot. His name’s Rhysand? Do you know him? His account’s private and I’m too scared to DM him.”

You smacked a hand against your forehead for not thinking to look him up in Cassian’s following list. Duh! Unlocking your phone, you opened Instagram and typed Cassian’s username into the search bar. 

Nothing. 

You frowned, checking it for misspellings. 

Nothing.

No results, no profile, no account. Nothing. 

Your stomach dropped. He blocked you. Cassian had blocked you. 

You turned your phone, but Gwyn was already looking at your screen, mouth slightly open as Cassian spoke, a bit distractedly. 

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, Rhys.” 

You stopped breathing. 

“That’s a really good friend of mine.”

Fuck. 

Cassian. 

Cassian was the fucking conflict of interest. 

Had Rhysand shown any signs of recognizing him from the pictures? You couldn’t recall. You didn’t think so…

“Want me to tell him about you?” he continued easily. “He’s a shrink, though, so don’t talk about work around him. It gets depressing.”

A beat. 

“Wait—is his account private?”

More metallic banging. 

“I told him to switch that shit because he wasn’t getting any bitches like that.”

A pause. 

“Not you, Gwyn. You’re a lovely woman.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Uh, but, no,” she recovered quickly. “It’s fine. It’ll probably make a better first impression if I hit him up myself anyway.”

“Smart.”

She glanced at you for a second, your eyes still wide in shock.

“Hey, random, but did you block (y/n)?”

Cassian let out a long exhale. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I did.”

Gwyn only looked down at her phone. Your eyes found the window. 

“Can I ask why?”

Cassian sighed, and this one sounded different than you were used to. It lacked the familiar warmth that used to live beneath his exasperation—the quiet amusement that always seemed to follow, no matter how ridiculous you were being. 

It was as though he’d already answered that very question for himself a hundred times. 

Gwyn stayed quiet as the sound of music and metal grew more faint, like Cassian was walking away from the garage somewhere more private. 

“I care about her,” he said, with a tired sort of certainty. “More than I should.”

You felt something twist painfully in your stomach. Your first instinct was to reject it. To think that no, he didn’t. But the thought didn’t hold for long. You knew better. 

“But it got to the point where I was spending more time trying to figure out how to help her than just… being around her. And she never really let me in. Not in the way I wanted.”

His voice caught ever so slightly on wanted. 

You thought about every invite you’d turned down. Every time he’d asked if you were okay. Every “I’m fine” text you’d sent him. 

He laughed softly then, but there wasn’t much humor in it. More disbelief than amusement. 

“Which isn’t her fault. I don’t think she was trying to shut me out. I think she was doing the best she could with what she had. But I’d try harder, she’d pull away, I’d get frustrated, she’d feel bad, then I’d feel bad for making her feel bad, and suddenly we’re both miserable because neither of us knows what the hell we’re doing.”

It sounded exhausting when he said it out loud. Though… it was simpler than you thought. 

Two people who’d kept reaching for each other with completely different hands. 

Gwyn glanced over at you. 

You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t tear your eyes off the window. 

Cassian continued, his voice quieter now, the words coming slower. 

“And I started noticing I was getting resentful. Not at her, exactly. Just… at the situation. At wanting to be someone she came to and leaned on, and realizing she didn’t really trust me enough to do that.”

You cringed.

Because that wasn’t how it had felt. You did trust him. You’d trusted him with your body. With your apartment key. With seeing you at your absolute worst, curled up on his couch after days where your own brain had become unbearable to live inside. 

But…

You’d never really let him carry any of it. 

Every time he asked what was wrong, you’d insisted you were fine. Every time he tried to shoulder some of it, you’d convinced yourself you were protecting him by keeping the worst parts to yourself. 

To him, it had looked like you didn’t trust him at all. 

You could hear him breathing through the speaker. 

“And that’s okay.”

He almost sounded like he was reminding himself. 

Another slow exhale.

“It sucks, but it’s okay. I don’t think we were good for each other. Not where we both are right now. Maybe someday that’ll be different. Maybe not. But I know I wasn’t helping anymore. I was just hanging around hoping she’d eventually need me the way I needed her to need me.”

He laughed again. 

“Which sounds kinda fucked up when I say it out loud.”

Gwyn murmured something you didn’t quite catch, too preoccupied with trying to reconcile this version of Cassian with the one you’d left behind—the Cassian who’d always answered your texts in the same minute, who’d reached out at just the right moment to stop you from burning the candle at both ends. 

Cassian’s voice softened. 

“I hope she figured her shit out. Genuinely. And I hope I figure mine out too. But I just need some time before I can be around her without wanting things from her that she can’t give me.”

You only stared at your reflection in the window. 

“That’s…” Gwyn said quietly. 

“Yeah.”

“... Pretty healthy.”

Cassian snorted at that. “Don’t tell anybody, I have a reputation.”

Gwyn looked over at you. Cassian was still talking, filling the silence because he’d always been better at it than either of you. 

“Anyway,” he said, lighter now. “Tell her I said hi if she asks about me or whatever.”

Gwyn hesitated. “Yeah.”

“And tell her…” He stopped. “Actually, never mind.”

“Cass.”

He laughed softly. 

“Just tell her I hope she’s doing okay.”

Something tightened painfully in your chest, because it didn’t sound like someone waiting for you to come back, or like he’d always be there whenever you were ready. He sounded genuine. 

Gwyn swallowed. “I will.”

“Cool.” A metallic clang sounded in the background. "Anyway, I gotta get back to work. Don't stalk my friend too hard."

"No promises."

"Terrifying."

The line clicked dead.

Gwyn was quiet beside you.

Waiting for tears, for anger, for literally anything.

But there was nothing.

Just that same strange blankness, and the awful, dawning realization that while you'd spent months believing Cassian would always be exactly where you'd left him.

He hadn't been.

That hurt more than if he'd hated you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦