Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Travis is cool, for a guy.

Natalie knows boys, knows what makes them tick, the shitty ex-boyfriends of her past serving as a handy instruction manual. She’d assumed they were all wired pretty much the same, but Travis is a little different than the rest of them. He doesn’t abide by the same rules, he isn’t as easy to understand, and Natalie likes that about him.

She especially likes the way he acts when it’s just the two of them, when his guard is down and he drops the frustrating swagger of teenage boy-dom and they can just talk like friends do, about how they feel, or what they wish they could be eating, or even what their favorite colors are on particularly unsuccessful hunting expeditions.

It’s refreshing forging a connection with a guy far away from the prying eyes of gossip-mongering high schoolers. There’s no high stakes rumors to worry about, no real need to hide the fact that they’ve grown close. It’s easier out here without the unwanted insinuations everyone has always seemed so eager to place on interactions back home. She sort of forgets sometimes that they’re a boy and a girl at all, and basks in the relationship they’ve created outside of any typical context. It’s refreshing.

And maybe it’s because this thing with Travis feels different, but there’s something a little disappointing about how quickly the two of them go from friends to lovers. Natalie had known it was an inevitability, could tell from the way he looked at her, but a naive part of her had been hoping for a little more time together as friends. Hanging out with no ulterior motives, and no implicit expectations of more.

But soon enough it was the same old story, the hitch of a breath, the press of lips together, and Natalie was going through those same motions again, except this time there was the looming threat of death on the horizon. Maybe that injected some adrenaline into the situation and made the idea of companionship more alluring. It’s cold, and dark, and vicious out here. Best to partner up so there’s no threat of solitude.

As time passes, Natalie continues to get to know him better, and for once in her life, she doesn’t even start to dislike him the more time they spend together. Unlike past relationships, they actually spend time together outside of making out. In fact, Travis doesn’t seem all that eager to have sex with her in the first place, which strangely feels like a gift from God out in this desolate wilderness.

Like, Natalie doesn’t dislike sex, but if she had to choose between touching Travis or talking to him, she’d pick talking any day.

She’s fine to wait until he’s ready. She tells him as much. He tells her he’s never been with anyone before, and his vulnerability elicits probably the most positive feelings she’s harbored for a guy, ever. He asks her about her own experience, and, unwilling to fracture the moment, Natalie lies.
Maybe it’s unfair not to return the honesty in kind, but Natalie’s never gotten much mileage out of telling the truth. It’s not like it really matters how much experience she has. What matters most is trading shitty jokes with him as they wander the woods in search of unlucky deer, or fucking around at the lake trying to dunk each other underwater. It’s those kinds of moments that Natalie is intent on preserving.

And when she sees the blatant relief in his eyes at her dishonesty, it only reinforces her faith in lying.

Still, because nothing can ever go well, Jackie runs her mouth about some hook up Natalie barely remembers aside from the fact that she’d gotten free weed out of it, and, sure enough, Travis isn’t happy with a version of reality that involves Natalie fucking people other than him.

It would’ve been fine, Natalie thinks, if only he wasn’t such a boy.

Because, at the end of the day, Travis is more similar to the rest of them than he is different. She sees his face twist up in disdain when he learns the truth of how many guys she’s been with. It’s an expression she’s overly familiar with.

He’s speaking but the only thing Natalie hears is her own unimpressed voice repeating versions of “I told you so” back to herself. Yet another inevitability. Natalie’s a little ashamed of herself for thinking he might not care like the others did. In that way, their argument is a much needed reality check on what it means to be with Travis. What she has to do to be with him. Who she has to be.

Of course, Natalie thinks to herself when he blows up at her, of course I didn’t tell you. Because you’d react like this.

If only the two of them could exist in some buoyant stasis where nothing would push them further together. But this is reality after all, even out in the middle of nowhere, and there are certain facts of life that Natalie knows to be true. Travis doesn’t only enjoy talking to her, he also wants to touch her. Not only does he want to touch her, he wants her to belong to him. She sees the way he looks at her. She knows that’s what he’s after.

And Natalie figures there’s no harm in giving him what he wants, as long as they can continue to spend time together. She’s lowered her expectations after their spat, and now that they’ve made up, she’s reminded anew how important of a presence he has become. There’s so little that makes her feel okay, and she’d probably finally go insane if she couldn’t rely on his quiet strength, or distract herself with their familiar banter.

So, they make up, and in turn, they keep touching each other.

It’s not like he pressures her into anything, no. Natalie’s happy enough allowing his clumsy hands on her body if it means he’s there next to her.

Besides, it isn’t like she hates it or anything. Rather, it’s a little endearing, bearing witness to his inexperienced fumbles, though she knows he’d be deeply hurt at the idea of Natalie thinking such a thing, so she keeps it to herself.

Boys are sensitive about those sorts of things.

Being with Travis is nice. It’s familiar in that she knows what he wants from her, and on top of that she truly enjoys his company during their hunting treks, and those slivers of vulnerability he allows himself to show to her. And there’s something so gloriously human about the moments of physical intimacy they share, like flickers of reminders that they are still alive and breathing. It’s not exciting, but it’s warm, and that’s what matters most.

One chilly night teetering on the edge of winter, Mari sidles up to her with a giddy expression, and Natalie feels her entire body tense in trepidation. Nothing good ever comes from that sort of look, and as the other girls surreptitiously lean in to catch the conversation, she’s reminded of vultures circling a carcass.

“So…you and Travis, huh?” Mari says.

There it is.

Misty squeals and claps her hands over her mouth as if that would turn back time and render the sound inaudible.

“....yeah,” Natalie grunts out through a mouthful of raggedy bear meat. “Me and Travis.”

“You love him?” asks Mari with rapidly wiggling eyebrows.

Natalie pauses, chews the meat, chews it more since it’s just that fucking tough. Then she nods. Mari shrieks delightedly and claps her hands together, and Natalie thanks God that Travis had left to take a piss a minute earlier.

Later that night, Natalie lies awake inhaling moldy wood and wonders if she’d told the truth. Does she love Travis? She definitely cares about him. She likes talking to him. But love?

She frowns into the darkness and wonders when she’ll finally fall for him.

An invisible weight presses down on her chest and she urges it to happen soon.

Sometimes Natalie catches herself watching Van and Tai out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t mean to stare or anything, it’s just that ever since the two of them went public with their relationship, she’s been kind of…interested.

Not in a weird way. Just, like, she’s curious about their dynamic, that’s all.

Sure, she’d always noticed there was a different energy between the two of them and figured there was probably something going on, but somehow it was different actually seeing it play out in front of her. Not bad different, just like, oh yeah, that’s something girls can do too.

She’s not even trying to notice these things, it’s just that whenever Natalie has a moment to pause and glance around at her surroundings, her gaze inevitably catches on Van and Tai suspended in a short, tender moment. A peck on the lips as they pass each other through the tangled brush, a gentle hand brushing over scarred skin, a whispered promise of a midnight rendezvous.

Natalie can’t help but cringe remembering the last exchange, overheard one evening after dinner when she jostled her way past a gnarled tree trunk on a quest to find a quiet place to piss, and was immediately confronted with a red-faced Van pushed up against the peeling bark, Tai’s hands flying out from under her shirt at the interruption. She’d sputtered out an apology and stumbled her way out of the clearing, not quite fast enough to miss Tai’s frustrated sigh and Van’s ensuing suggestion that the two of them continue after dark.

Since then, Natalie hasn’t quite been able to shake that recent tableau from her mind. She’d fumbled into an intimate moment that hadn’t been hers to witness, and there she’d found a concrete visual depiction of the relationship between her teammates. It’s just, something about the scene struck her, dug its nails into her skin and refused to let go.

Maybe she was just reeling from the newness of it. On some level Natalie hadn’t quite believed that Tai and Van did the same things she and Travis did. Like, she couldn’t conceptualize how two girls could do something sexual, until she was presented with the reality that it really isn’t all that different from how it is with a girl and a guy.

She isn’t sure why the concept had felt so amorphous before; Tai and Van are dating and they make out and fuck like people who date. Obviously. And why does this even matter to Natalie? Why does she keep thinking about it? She feels like a fucking creep, forces herself not to think the memory over any further, and most of the time she’s successful.

But sometimes, when her self control wears thin, she allows the images to flick through her brain, kaleidoscopic along the backs of her eyelids.
She remembers the way they kissed each other like they were drowning, like they couldn’t get enough of it, barely even bothering to come up for breath. It looked almost painful, the want sparking between them, the jerky movements like they couldn’t last another minute without having each other. It was a type of uninhibited passion that Natalie had never known existed, and, in that moment, witnessing that boundless energy, Natalie’s own interpretation of sex and romance seemed to cleave. She hasn’t been able to fit her ideas back into place since then.

Because sometimes, when Natalie is particularly weak, she thinks about if she’s ever felt like that with Travis. If she’s ever wanted him like that. If she’s ever needed him so fiercely. And it’s frightening to admit that she hasn’t. She tells herself it will happen someday, probably when she falls in love with him, but it haunts her that it’s taking this long. She can’t help but wonder if it’s something she’s doing wrong.

Either way, the sight of Tai and Van pressed close together that night, soaked in moonlight, in a world of their own, had torn at her chest a little and left something wanting behind. Natalie isn't quite sure what to make of that ache, or the fascination with which she relived the memory, and thinking about it further only ever inspires confusion.

So, eventually, she decides on the interpretation that she’s just still curious. About Tai and Van, about how they seem so wrapped up in each other, about why Natalie has never felt that way about Travis. She just wants to know more. She’s curious. That’s it.

(That’s pretty much the only explanation she can think of, after all.)

A week and a half later, Van seeks her out and offers to come with her to help gather wood.

Natalie can tell her teammates are weirded out by the scene, considering she and Van had never been super close. They talk, sure, but it isn’t like Van has ever gone out of her way to accompany Natalie on shitty lumber runs before.

“Watch out, Van! Tai’s gonna get mad!” Akilah yells out at their retreating backs.

Van just sticks out her tongue and throws up a middle finger in response, following Natalie to the nearby grove they’d taken to sourcing sticks from.

A few seconds of silence pass, the two of them wandering around the clearing in search of loot.

“God, this sucks,” Van says, kicking the toe of her shoe into the snowy earth.

“For real,” agrees Natalie. She bends over to grab a promising looking twig, and Van speaks up again.

“Hey, Nat?”

“Hm?” Natalie straightens up again and looks at her.

“I wanted to, like, ask you something…” Van starts.

She’s tapping one foot on the ground, and Natalie is struck with deja vu at the sight. She hasn’t seen it in months, but it used to be a fairly common scene during particularly tense games back home.

“You always do that when you’re nervous, dude,” Natalie points out, tossing her chin in the direction of Van’s foot. “What’s up?”

“Okay, so like…I noticed that you’ve been looking over at us a lot recently. Me and Tai, I mean.”

Natalie’s back stiffens at the words. She’d known something was up, but hadn’t expected to be confronted so directly. It makes sense, though; this was Van, after all. She didn’t tend to beat around the bush.

“Oh, fuck. Listen, I’m not-”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re being an asshole about us dating or anything,” Van interrupts with a flash of a grin. “That’s so not your style.”

Natalie lets out a relieved breath. “Yeah, totally not my style. You guys are cute together.”

“That’s what I told Tai! I was like, Nat wouldn’t be weird about this! But she was still worried, so I figured I’d make sure.”

Natalie winces. “I’m…I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to make either of you feel that way.”

Van elbows her in the shoulder good-naturedly.

“Dude, don’t even stress about it. I think Tai and I are both just a little on edge still, even though we don’t need to be. Gotta break that habit.”

“Mm,” Natalie grunts in response. Then, as if possessed, another sentence flies out of her mouth.

“So like, when did you guys start dating?”

Van looks a little surprised at the question, but takes it in stride.

“Oh, I guess around the middle of sophomore year? I’d been flirting with her since we were freshmen, though. Guess my charms were too much for her to resist.”

“Suuuure.”

“Hey, fuck you, man,” laughs Van. “I don’t see you with a hot girlfriend!”

“Yeah, but the ladies love me,” Natalie replies jokingly.

“Wait, seriously? Oh my god, I fucking knew it!” Van fist-pumps despite her armful of sticks.

“Wait, knew what?”

“That you were into girls too!”

Natalie just stands there. Her brain stalls, dead leaf blower style, like she has to yank on a cord to start it back up again.

Whatever expression she’s making gives Van pause. She slowly retracts the fist pump.

“Whoops, my bad. Sorry, forget I said anything.”

Into girls? Too? Natalie was?

Huh.

“Am I?” mutters Natalie confusedly.

“Are you what?”

“Into girls? Wait, but I’m with Travis. That doesn’t make sense.” Natalie scowls in confusion.

“It’s not like it has to be all or nothing. Some people date guys and girls.” Van replies with a shrug, looking a little relieved that she hadn’t been the catalyst to spiral Natalie into a crisis of sexuality.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s true.”

Natalie had known that, of course, but she’d never really connected the fact with herself. In fact, she’d never given much thought to her sexuality at all. She’d just kind of been with guys because that was normal. But it wasn’t like Tai and Van weren’t normal. They acted just as cringy and in love as every other couple Natalie had cursed out in Jersey. Though, Natalie didn’t mind it as much with the two of them, for some reason.

All of a sudden, the matter of who she was into seemed like a pretty big thing to gloss over. Like, how had she not thought about this before?

“Don’t worry, dude, you don’t need to figure it out right away. I mean, we’ve got all the time in the world out here after all!” Van adds encouragingly, perhaps sensing Natalie’s line of thinking.

“That’s some unfounded optimism you got there.”

“Unfounded? I’m living proof that shit works out! I almost died twice! My face is all sewn up, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, your scars are cool as fuck, we know.”

“Hey, Nat, I’m flattered, but I’m already seeing someone.”

“Oh my god you’re such a dick!” Natalie lunges at her in mock rage, but Van just takes off running back to the cabin with a shout of laughter.

“And quit fucking on tree stumps where anyone can see you!” Natalie yells after her through a burst of her own incredulous laughter.

“Just be glad you caught such a hot show!” Van replies over her shoulder with a wink.

Natalie spends the following week analyzing everything she knew to be true about herself. Sort of like a mental checklist of crushes and miscellaneous thoughts.

For example, ever since she watched Heathers for the first time a couple years back, she’d thought she had a thing for Christian Slater. But, incidentally, when she’d seen him in magazines outside of the context of the movie, she’d been pretty unimpressed, and more than a little disappointed by the mag’s lack of a Winona Ryder feature.

She figured that could mean three things:

Either she was solely into Christian Slater as a nihilistic murderer, or she was solely into Christian Slater when he stood next to Winona Ryder, or she wasn’t particularly into Christian Slater at all, and sort of just wanted to be him so she could make out with Winona Ryder.

But when it came down to deciphering which of the options were true, Natalie was sort of at a loss. Because wanting to make out with hot girls is just kind of a natural part of life. Same with hating Pre-Calc, and being constantly plagued by the lack of bleach out here because her roots are coming through way too much.

Like, these are just universal facets of human nature. Right?

Similarly, another worldwide phenomenon is the eye’s tendency to wander when sharing a dusty pantry with another girl as one changes out of snow-soaked clothing, Natalie mentally asserts to herself.

“You’re acting weird,” Lottie’s voice breaks the quiet of atmospheric wooden floorboard creaking.

She’d escorted Natalie and Travis outside early that morning after the ritual, which Lottie had kindly cut down in minutes at Natalie’s behest after their recent unsuccessful hunting competition, and bade them good luck in that knowing sort of tone that she often spoke in these days.

Hours later, when Natalie stepped back into the clearing around the cabin, empty-handed as Travis had decided to take the gun and hunt a bit more himself, she was shocked to find Lottie shivering on the porch in nothing but a soggy nightgown.

“Why were you outside earlier?” asks Natalie, determinedly ignoring Lottie’s comment.

“There was something off about the air today,” replies Lottie vaguely.

“That’s not ominous at all,” Natalie says as she balances on one leg to pull off a waterlogged boot.

“It’s okay now,” assures Lottie. “So, why are you acting weird?”

Natalie grimaces as the boot finally slips off, landing on the floor with a damp thud.

“You’re just reading into things, Lot. I’m acting the same as always.”

She wrangles the other boot off as well, and begins to divest herself of the many layers that make up their hunting uniform now that the weather is certifiably freezing, shrugging off the oversized camo vest first.

“You say that, but why have you been staring at the green beans from hell for the last two minutes?”

Natalie snorts at the wording. “From hell?”

“Yeah. That, or aged slop in a can? Either one works.”

“God, that’s so fucked up.”

Natalie laughs, pulling off a fleece, and then a flannel, then a long-sleeved shirt, and dropping them in a pile on the floor. She’d be grossed out at the idea of wearing them again afterwards if she hadn’t abandoned all sense of propriety months ago.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier. I just had to check something in the snow.”

“It’s cool.”

Lottieo offers no further explanation, and Natalie hardly notices, too relieved that attempts to ward off suspicion seem to be working.

She’s just not used to changing in the same room as the other girls. Even back at school she always changed in a bathroom stall out of paranoia that she might accidentally look at a teammate weird. She didn’t even really know why it was something she was so anxious about, just that it absolutely couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Natalie wonders if that’s another universal experience.

At any rate, she’d had to abandon the habit after the crash, considering they’re all living in such close quarters, but she’s been unsuccessful thus far in her efforts to get used to the lack of privacy. She always feels like she’s taking up a little too much space, or taking a little too long to grab socks out of the communal pile, or any other number of things.

It’s fucking stressful. And ever since her conversation with Van a couple days ago, the endeavor feels even more fraught. She’s hyper aware of Lottie’s presence behind her, the faint sound of rustling fabric, everything.

Natalie takes a breath, strips out of her sweaty tank top and unclasps her bra in quick succession, letting both garments drop.

“Hey, Nat?”

Lottie’s voice grows louder, her weight creaking under the floorboard as she takes a couple steps towards Natalie, who’d purposefully set up shop facing one of the walls and remained that way while Lottie got changed.

“Mhm?”

Natalie opts to mumble something in response. She feels more than a little cornered, hunched over topless and experiencing a freakish bout of shivering and sweating in some bizarre combined reaction to the circumstances.

Her heart is beating out of her fucking chest, too. All for absolutely no reason. She grits her teeth.

Calm the fuck down. Lottie’s just doing normal Lottie things. She’s probably getting closer to grab something she left on the floor over here.

Natalie grits her teeth and steadies her breathing.
“Do you need something?” she decides to ask after a few seconds of silence. “I can move.”

Maybe Natalie’s sweaty fucking body is in the way, and that’s why Lottie’s made the decision to just wordlessly stand directly behind her?

“It’s kind of cute how shy you are,” says Lottie, a smile audible in her voice.

Before Natalie can react, a soft, scarred forehead comes to rest between her clammy shoulder blades. She swallows down a sound of surprise that surely would have decimated her dignity, but the victory is short lived as she processes the situation.

“Whaaat?” Natalie murmurs with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting around the shelves of expired food.

“Seriously, I never would’ve thought you cared about this stuff,” Lottie continues. Her warm breath tickles Natalie’s spine, goosebumps surfacing in response.

“It’s not like I care about it. I was just trying to be polite,” Natalie answers.

She’s pretty sure if she checked her own pulse it would be hovering somewhere around incoming cardiac arrest.

“I bet.”

“Wh-Lottie, what the hell? Why’re you being all-”

Flustered, Natalie forgets herself, whirls around to confront Lottie, who stumbles back a bit to avoid getting smacked by a shoulder.

“What’s your deal, dude?” Natalie asks, breathless and utterly baffled.

“Sorry, Nat, I was just kidding around,” replies Lottie, looking a little abashed. “My bad.”

Natalie notes with relief that Lottie’s fully dressed now-also, is that Natalie’s shirt she’s wearing? It looks good on her-and blows out a breath in an effort to abate some tension, slapping a palm against her sweaty forehead.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just stressed, or something. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“Y-yeah.” Lottie says, but the uncharacteristic stumbling over words has Natalie dropping the hand from her head and studying her in confusion.

Now that she’s calmed down, Natalie notices an itchy sort of nervousness crawling along her collarbones, then her sternum, then a little lower, almost like someone is-

“Whoa!” Natalie yelps without thinking, crossing her arms over her chest in panic.

She looks at Lottie wildly, but Lottie just stares back, her gaze now having flicked upwards to Natalie’s face. She looks spaced out as usual, eyes wide, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck and over the tops of her ears that affirms Natalie’s suspicions.

“Dude! Were you just checking me out?” Natalie finds herself whispering as loudly as possible.

“No! I mean, like, not really!” Lottie quickly responds. She leans back on her heels looking incredibly guilty. “I mean…um…sorry?”

And now she’s staring down at the green beans from hell, and in a sudden, decisive blow, Natalie is struck by a wave of…something, like a sledgehammer to the chest.

“Uh. Okay. No, I mean, that’s fine! Like-”

Natalie abruptly realizes that she isn't capable of constructing sentences right now and abandons the effort entirely. She spins back around, throws on the t-shirt she brought, and rushes out of the pantry in the span of three seconds.

“Wait, Nat, I’m-don’t you need to change your pants?” comes Lottie’s voice, sounding just as bewildered and embarrassed as Natalie feels.

“Gonna do it later!” Natalie replies without turning around.

Her baggy cargo pants are muddy and damp and she didn’t even get to strip off her wet socks, but all that can wait.

For now, she just needs to get the fuck out of here.

That night, Natalie stews.

What the hell had been up with that interaction earlier? Was that kind of vibe just something that occurred naturally in girl’s locker rooms, and Natalie has just never been present for it? Like, was it just normal platonic teasing that she’d way overreacted to?

She has a feeling that was probably it. She’d probably just fucked up by taking it too seriously.

But, that still didn’t feel like a good enough explanation for Lottie pretty blatantly checking out her boobs and panicking when Natalie noticed. That moment had seemed distinctly impromptu rather than a well-worn joking routine. And Lottie really had looked ashamed of herself afterwards, refusing to make eye contact with Natalie the rest of the day and night, even when Natalie showed her a cool feather she’d found.

And Lottie loves cool feathers.

It’s not like there’s any real reason she should feel bad. Like, Natalie doesn’t particularly mind if Lottie wants to look at her tits. In fact, her looking at them earlier was sort of a little bit nice, for whatever reason. Lottie not being able to help herself and Natalie catching her in the act; there was something that felt good about it, and Natalie can’t say she’s ever felt good being ogled like that, which makes the situation all the more weird.

After all, she’s been leered at enough to know intimately how bad it usually feels Whether it be middle-aged douchebags at 7-11, or lanky classmates eying her in gym class, she’s trudged through a lifetime of this sort of thing. It’s an experience that Natalie is hellishly accustomed to. Even Travis, who Natalie genuinely thinks is a good guy, can’t seem to help himself sometimes when it comes to stealing glances at her chest. Usually, she does him a solid and pretends not to notice, but there are times she wants to scream at him to just look at her face for a second, to just pay attention to her and not what he wants from her.

Teachers and parents and adults of all kinds have told her that it’s just boys being boys, always tacking on a patronizing suggestion for her to adopt a more conservative wardrobe at the tail end of their speech. As if there’s any way she’d abandon the clothes that make her feel a modicum less inclined to jump off a bridge.

She’ll wear whatever she wants, and they can all go fuck themselves.

But it’s not like standing firm in her clothing choices ever changes how awful it is. She’s tired of dealing with unwanted eyes on her, has been since she was 12 and got cat-called for the first time, 14 and started carrying her keys wrapped in her knuckles after a senior followed her home, 16 and realized she’d have to worry about this forever. There’s no feeling quite like it; this invasive, icy dread dripping down her spine when a leer crawls down her body without permission.

Natalie wonders why she hadn’t had that same feeling when she’d caught Lottie doing it.

Maybe because they’re friends? She’s known Lottie since freshman year and she’s never been made uncomfortable by anything she’s done. Back in the real world they never really hung out one on one, but there were plenty of celebratory pizza parties and boring days of monotonous drills that fostered conversation between the two of them. Lottie had never been overly talkative, which Natalie appreciated, and when she did speak up it was almost always with something interesting and/or wildly unexpected.

She was a solid player too, a trustworthy teammate, and an eerily talented impersonator of pretty much every teacher in school. Thinking back, Natalie probably enjoyed her company most out of everyone on the team.

Things are different now, of course. All of them have changed, but Lottie perhaps most of all. Ever since the plane crashed, she’s been slowly evolving into this other version of herself, and Natalie isn’t really sure what to make of it. She can see that this newer iteration of Lottie is more grounded in herself, less self-conscious, but it’s at a weird cost that involves smearing dirt on people’s faces and making Natalie drink her blood.

Oftentimes, the Lottie post-crash seems straight up unhinged, especially since everything that happened with Laura Lee.

Laura Lee. Jackie. Laura Lee. Jackie. Laura Lee. Jackie-

No, no, no. Later, Natalie will think about them later. If she tries to think too much too late at night she never falls asleep.

Think about them in the morning, Natalie instructs herself. Remember what Lottie said.

Lottie, who Natalie had spoken with the day after everything…happened, with Jackie. She’d assured Natalie then that they hadn’t done anything wrong by doing what they did. She’d told Natalie to thank Jackie for it, and move on. Daily since then, Natalie has done just that. She thinks of Laura Lee too, thanks her as well, remembers how important both of them were, back then and now.

Lottie is different now. She talks about things in that sort of roundabout way that Natalie’s mom sometimes talks about God, but Lottie does it in a way that sounds less out of obligation and more out of love. She insists on weird shit like pre-hunting rituals and tells Travis that Javi is alive and makes Natalie want to tear her own half-bleached hair out sometimes. Natalie can’t say she believes in everything Lottie seems to know for certain, but it’s undeniable that she is powerful in an untameable kind of way, and she’s appeared to have shepherded in veritable miracles that Natalie still can’t wrap her head around.

A lot of the time, Lottie seems practically otherworldly. Some of Natalie’s teammates have taken it upon themselves to obey her word like she’s a sort of god, looking to her for divine intervention.

Natalie knows better.

Lottie is human, disgustingly so, just like the rest of them. She’s human in the same way Natalie is, in the way neither of them brought back any new food the day of the competition, in the way both of them shivered in the same metallic tub, bathing one after another in hot water that practically felt holy. She’s human in the way her hand felt in Natalie’s after the whole thing had ended, she’s human in the way she offered up a good game like they were out on the field again, a little too caught up in something that didn’t actually mean a whole lot.

Natalie thinks that Lottie being human is probably the best thing about her. Even when she leads others through prayers, or slices open a bear, or maybe even conjures fucking birds from the sky, she’s still gloriously human the whole time. Natalie can tell, because she can always see the fear in Lottie’s eyes while those things are happening. She can always see how hard Lottie is trying, how much she’s hurting, how deeply she’s wishing.

Natalie’s worried about her. She has been for a while. She’s worried Lottie’s going to forget about that beautiful, intrinsic core of her that is undeniably human.

So, she’s honest about what she doesn’t believe in, she doesn’t hold back when she gets pissed at Lottie and challenges her to a childish contest, and she apologizes when she realizes how stupid she’s been. She participates in the rituals, but with the amendment that they don’t last quite as long, and Lottie agrees to the conditions.

She comes back from a fruitless hunt to find Lottie sitting on the porch, wet and miserable, and drags her inside to change. She doesn’t think twice when Lottie protests that she can wait until Natalie’s done.

Natalie doesn’t want her to catch a cold.

And then, in some wacky turn of events, she inadvertently gives Lottie a full frontal view of her bare chest. And Lottie does not look away. In fact, she blatantly stares all the way up until Natalie realizes the errors of her ways and covers up.

Where does this last entry fit into the story of them?

Natalie has no fucking idea.

All she knows with certainty is that Lottie’s gaze on her chest hadn’t felt bad. And it’s weird, because Natalie has hated people looking at her like that in the past.

But Lottie’s not the same as those people, not in the slightest. She’s herself, and Natalie knows her, has watched her lick up her own blood as it drips down from her forehead, stall a hungry bear with no more than a glance. The eyes that flutter closed as she smudges a streak of dirt across Natalie’s skin every morning, those are the same eyes that studied Natalie’s body so intently. Almost like Lottie believed her gaze could paint that earthy mixture along Natalie’s chest and keep her safe that way as well.

Rather than feeling slimy and self-serving, her stare had reminded Natalie of the way Natalie looks at her sometimes. Wide-eyed, expectant, awed. Natalie knows that expression well. She feels it on her own face, slack-jawed and staring, whenever she can’t quite wrap her head around something incredible Lottie has done or said. At a certain point, all there is left to do in the presence of Lottie Matthews is just stand back and watch. Surrender to the inexplicable, and marvel in her strength.

Wonder. Intrigue. Speechless fascination. Natalie has felt all of those things, looking at Lottie.

And in that moldy pantry, Lottie had looked at her like she felt the same exact way.

Natalie feels a tingling light in her chest at the realization, waits as it spreads up her neck and over her cheeks and burns all over, delicious and biting. She smiles into the darkness, teeth and everything. The same sparks she’d felt from Lottie’s gaze emerge from wherever they’ve been hiding and multiply, dancing across her skin. Maybe they’ve been there for ages, just waiting to be woken up and reminded of their existence.

The feeling is new and old all at once. It relaxes and invigorates her. It’s everything around her.

And when Natalie’s eyes finally slip closed, the emotion swells so high it leaks out her eyes.
For the first time since they crashed, Natalie feels full.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, Natalie…”

A low voice husks against her neck as Travis pushes his body further into hers.

They’re in the cabin, crammed on top of the single bed in a rare moment of solitude as everyone else gathers outside for one of Lottie’s visualization sessions. Even Coach Ben had opted to join in, though Natalie supposes it’s not all that surprising considering how subdued his mood has been as of late.

She wonders if he’s thinking about his boyfriend, if he misses him. Natalie can’t say there’s anyone she particularly misses back home, but she imagines it’s painful for those of them that have people to hold and places to dream about.

“Mmm,” Travis grunts and shifts his weight further into her.

“Hey, Trav?” Natalie pulls back, and he chases her lips a little too enthusiastically. She cranes her neck back, mouth out of reach, and eyes him.

He’s looking at her quizzically, no doubt wondering why she stopped him, and Natalie feels a rush of affection for him in the way he pauses all his movements and props himself up on his elbows to give her some space. His hair is too long, damp and stringy with sweat, and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Sorry. Too fast?” he asks in that low, gentle voice he reserves only for her.

Natalie waits, wonders if her heart will squeeze at the rasp in those hushed words, and when it doesn’t, she wonders if she’s doing something wrong by being here, in bed with Travis, wrapped up in his arms that are so much bigger than hers.

“I just…fuck, I think I got my period.”

Travis lets out a huff of relief. “Oh, ok.”

He rolls off of her and into the space between Natalie’s side and the wall, squeezing his body in between with sheer force of will.

“Guess we’ll have to continue later?” Natalie says with a small smile, turning her head to look at him.

“Yeah, totally,” Travis responds vacantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, sorry, I just, uh, gotta take care of this somehow…” he trails off and Natalie follows his glance downwards.

“Sorry, dude. Wanna go sneak out back and jack off? Promise I won’t tell.” Natalie says as she sits up and pulls her shirt back on.

“You better not,” Travis narrows his eyes at her, before shuffling off the bed a little awkwardly.

Natalie tosses her discarded flannel at him, which he takes gratefully and holds over his midsection.

“Is this, like, way too obvious?”

“I mean, anyone who looks at you will definitely know you have a boner, but it doesn’t really matter.” Natalie responds with a shrug.

“I’m totally gonna have to sneak out of here, secret agent style,” Travis groans, but he sounds delighted by the idea.

“Nerd. Don’t break your dick somersaulting out the door.”

“How would somersaulting not draw attention to me? You need to read up on special ops.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just go deal with it before Misty notices. I swear that girl has eyes like a hawk.”

Travis nods in solemn agreement, walking backwards out of the room with a one-handed salute. Natalie waves him off with a snort, and before long, she’s alone again.

She glances around the room, considers joining up with everyone else outside, but figures they’ll probably be done soon anyway, and flops back on the bed, bringing her arms up to wrap over her face. It’s mid-morning, and the winter sunlight is unrelenting as it beams through the dusty windows.

This is the third time she’s done this with Travis. Stopped them halfway, that is. It’s also the second time she’s used the period excuse within the span of two weeks, but for once high school sex ed seems to have done her a favor, since Travis didn’t seem bothered by the questionable logistics.

A pang of guilt scrapes deep in her chest. She needs to be honest, just tell him how she feels. But it’s hard to know what to even say, after the muddled epiphany she had a couple weeks ago, the results of which were inconclusive but skewing in a distinctly non-Travis direction. She still likes him, a lot, but the more making out they’ve done since she really started thinking about it, the more she’s realizing that she doesn’t particularly enjoy kissing him.

It isn’t like he’s doing anything wrong, in fact, he’s eased up significantly on the tongue action since Natalie gently suggested he do so. And she doesn’t hate it, but it just isn’t exciting. Like, at all. And the times they’ve started going further, she’s found herself doing little more than space out as he paws roughly at her body.

She’s realized that the main thing her brain has been occupied with when she and Travis mess around is a one-minded determination that he enjoys himself. Rather than lose herself in the moment, Natalie feels more like an actor terrified of forgetting her lines. Her thoughts are like personal stage directions; push out your chest a little more, he’ll like that, don’t tell him he’s pressing too hard, he’ll take it the wrong way.

It’s as if she’s filtering herself for his entertainment, cutting up her reel of natural reactions and offering him a heavily edited version, tailored uniquely to his desires. She never even realized she’s been doing it until she actually stopped and asked herself, in the moment, if she was even having fun.

It’s not like she’s only ever done this with Travis. This is how it’s been with every guy she’s slept with, boyfriend or not. Her needs are shelved as she focuses on her partner, and in the end, everyone leaves satisfied. Although, for some reason, that ‘everyone’ doesn’t include her. The ones who enjoy it are the guy and the filtered, fake Natalie that’s little more than a puppet parrotting lines, while the real Natalie is pulling strings backstage and making sure no one misses a cue.

It’s sort of exhausting, and she’s kind of really fucking weirded out by the fact she’s never noticed this before.

All Natalie can do now, lying here on this shitty mattress, listening to some distant whooping outside as everyone joins in on some sort of chant, is recognize that she’s being a shitty person. She can’t deny it any longer; at this point, it’s become painfully clear: she just isn’t into Travis romantically, and she’s taking advantage of his feelings to sort out her own. She has to say something to him and end things once and for all.

Her throat closes in panic at the sheer idea, but there’s nothing else she can do.

She does care about Travis, albeit in a different way than she once thought she did, but the nuances hardly matter. Whether he’s a friend or a lover, Natalie doesn’t want to use him to figure out her own shit. He deserves more than that. She’ll tell him as much, later tonight, and he’ll probably hate her, but that’s it’s own inevitability.

She just hopes that, if they don’t all fucking die out here, Travis will be down to hang out again sometime when they’re back home. They can wander around town, smoking cigarettes and reminiscing, and maybe Natalie will still feel comfortable next to him no matter how many years it’s been.

The idea of any of them surviving another few months, let alone years, is comedically naive, but it’s not like Natalie’s ever been above lying to herself.

A few days later, Natalie takes a page out of Van’s book and offers to help Lottie throw out the piss bucket when, in a moment of extreme rarity, Misty fails to draw the short straw. Lottie gives her a look that’s halfway between suspicion and terror, and Natalie just shrugs and says she needs some air.

At this point they’ve started exchanging a few words again, but every interaction is practically throbbing with awkward energy. And Natalie doesn’t even fucking care about the boob-staring thing but Lottie still hasn’t allowed her a chance to say as much. So, she plays dirty, and offers to help out with a much despised chore. Lottie seems to accept her fate, and the two of them walk out of the cabin into the cold night, each holding one handle of the bucket.

There’s a stretch of quiet as they focus on traversing over some uneven ground, but soon enough they get their bearings and end up on a familiar path tamped into the snow by boots of yore. Natalie tries to ignore the bucket sloshing between them, though in a way she’s glad for it since it forces her and Lottie to stick close together and move slowly.

“Kinda chilly, huh?”

Lottie glances at her out of the corner of her eye. Natalie waits, watches, until the corner of Lottie’s mouth turns up the tiniest bit at the sheer obviousness of the statement.

“You’re thinking ‘no shit,’ right?” Natalie impels. “But this is how far I’m willing to go for you to quit being so weird around me. I’m making small talk about the weather, Lot.”

“I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Being weird,” says Lottie.

They’re trudging along so in sync that Natalie is kind of impressed. It’s dark enough out that she’d been expecting they would have to pause every so often to reorient themselves, but they’re making good time. Natalie’s half glad, half pissed about it, because it means she’ll have to act faster than she’d thought. She was planning on easing into things a little more, but at the rate they’re moving, there’s no time for subtleties anymore.

“I don’t know, I thought catching you staring at my tits a while back was kind of weird.”

Lottie stops abruptly and Natalie nearly sends the bucket flying, halting next to her just in time.
“Whoa! Little warning next time?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” says Lottie. Her gloved hands are clenched into fists. “I screwed up. I really wasn’t trying to creep you out, but clearly I did. Can we please just drop it already?”

“Wait, no, Lot, you’re misunderstanding-”

Lottie’s face contorts in frustration as she twists to look at Natalie, who immediately forgets the words she’d planned out for this very moment. When Natalie doesn’t continue, Lottie just looks all the more exasperated.

Natalie just stands there as Lottie takes a slow, shaky breath, and speaks again.

“I don’t know why everything around me makes so much more sense than you do. I can feel the trees around us, and see the steps we’re meant to take in the snow, but I can’t fucking figure this out. I know I sound crazy, I know I do, but I don’t even care about that anymore. Just tell me what to say to make this go away, Nat!”

The words tumble out in quick succession, growing louder and more frustrated until Lottie shouts her name into the quiet darkness. Surprised, Natalie takes a half step back, and Lottie takes the cue to grab the other handle of the bucket out of her hand.

“Look, I’m just going to throw this out myself. You can go back to the cabin. Let’s just forget any of this ever happened,”

Lottie looks at her pleadingly, and Natalie can feel how badly Lottie wants her to listen, to agree, to walk away. She almost does, just to satisfy her. But this conversation is unavoidable, and unlike other things, Natalie finds no futility in this inevitability. She remains firmly in place.

“Lottie. Listen to me.” Natalie keeps her voice measured and calm.

Lottie sighs, looks down at the bucket, and takes a step away from her.

“Hey, wait-”

“I’m just throwing it out here,” Lottie says in a defeated sort of tone.

Natalie hears the flood of liquid splatter against the freezing ground, and sure enough, Lottie walks back over to face her, empty bucket in hand.

“Dude. We’re not gonna remember this is where we threw the piss. Someone’s gonna step in it.” says Natalie, unable to help herself.

“I know,” Lottie responds calmly.

“I-Okay, yeah, whatever,” Natalie shakes her head slightly, shelving away that train of thought for later. There are more important things to worry about. “Anyway, Lot, I’ve been trying to talk to you for, like, this entire week. I’m not mad at you. I’m not creeped out. I just haven’t been able to tell you.”

Lottie tilts her head, considering, but, much to Natalie’s relief, she doesn’t brush past her without hearing her out. Instead, she remains rooted in place and looks deeply conflicted, chewing on her bottom lip.

Natalie wants to reach out and gently pull it out from between her teeth, but instead she just rocks on her heels and awaits her response.

“Why aren’t you creeped out?” asks Lottie finally, soft and imploring.

“Honestly? I don’t really know.”

Lottie flinches at that, but Natalie soldiers on in hopes of clarifying.

“I’m not gonna lie, I would have been majorly skeeved out by literally anyone else doing that. Like, in all other contexts, I’ve fucking hated people looking at me like that. But, Lottie, I really…um, I really didn’t mind when you did it.” Natalie finishes awkwardly.

“...really?” asks Lottie incredulously. But her fists unclench, and Natalie can practically see the tension drain out of her shoulders underneath the heavy jacket.

“Really,” Natalie responds firmly. Then, because she really wants to be clear about this, she adds: “I actually kind of liked it.”

Lottie’s face whips up to look at her at a breakneck speed.

“You liked it?”

Natalie’s cheeks heat traitorously. “I mean, yeah? Why do you sound so surprised? Didn’t you like it too?”

“I...yeah, I liked it.” Lottie replies slowly, like she's circling a bear trap.

“See? It’s a win-win,” Natalie chokes out. She allows herself a mental pat on the back for not losing it at that comment.

“But…” Lottie frowns at her. “Is that okay? With Travis?”

“He and I aren’t, uh, seeing each other anymore. We’re just friends. I mean, we will be once he stops hating me.”

Natalie hadn’t gotten into the whole sexuality crisis thing when she broke up with him, considering she was still knee-deep in the trenches there, but she’d done as she decided and told him she didn’t love him romantically. It had gone predictably badly, and Travis had lashed out at her for leading him on, which fucking sucked. But, in any case, he’d always been a bit of an asshole. Fun to talk to, trustworthy, secretly thoughtful, but also kind of pissy and frustrating.

It’s one of the reasons she was drawn to him in the first place. She’d sensed a comrade in him.
He’s been sulking for the past few days, ever since Natalie told him the truth, and she’s left him to it, figuring he definitely doesn’t want her company right now. It stings being so blatantly snubbed, but it’s not like Natalie is in any place to judge him.

She figures this is probably her just desserts, and leaves him be, though privately she hopes, desperately, that he forgives her sooner rather than later. It’s hard, doing this without him. And all she can do is wait.

“Is that why you’ve been coming back from hunting separately?” asks Lottie.

“Yeah, we take turns with the gun because he doesn’t want to be alone with me,” Natalie barks out a bitter laugh. “Can’t exactly blame him for it. It does feel a little pointless though, since neither of us are catching anything.”

Lottie closes her eyes and nods. “It’s quiet out here. They’re hiding from us.”

“I guess, yeah.”

Natalie ignores the faint shiver that creeps up the back of her neck at Lottie’s words, so vacantly ominous. Sometimes she says shit that sounds straight out of a horror movie.

“Anyway, we aren’t a thing anymore. Me and Travis. So it’s all good.”

Lottie blinks her eyes open, as if coming out of a momentary reverie, and Natalie feels the kindling in her chest roar into flames as Lottie’s mouth quirks up in a small, shy smile.

“Sorry, Nat.”

“You don’t look that sorry,” Natalie points out with a grin of her own.

“Well, I never really felt like you guys fit each other,” replies Lottie.

Natalie reigns in a chuckle at the look on her face, suddenly so serious, as if Lottie has been ruminating on the mystery of her and Travis’ relationship for months, bewildered at the sheer existence of it.

“Yeah, maybe not. Guess he wasn’t really my type after all.”

Lottie flicks a glance in her direction. “You have a type?”

Natalie’s heart immediately kickstarts into overdrive at that. There’s something lying dormant in Lottie’s voice, just barely shoved beneath the surface, raw and anxious in its ferocity. Natalie wonders if Lottie’s even aware of it.

“I mean,” Natalie takes a shuddering breath, feeling distinctly like she’s standing far too close to the edge of an icy overhang. She steps off. “Like I said, I’m not cool with just anybody drooling over my boobs in a musty pantry.”

Lottie’s face immediately flushes.

“I wasn’t…doing that.”

Natalie takes a step towards her, then another, until the zippers of their jackets are practically pressed against each other. The (mercifully empty) bucket hits the snow with a thud, slipping out of Lottie’s hand as she watches Natalie with wide eyes.

“You weren’t?” questions Natalie.

Natalie’s whole body is practically vibrating with the electricity between them. She prays that Lottie feels it too, that her hands are shaking just as much, that she’s just as freaked out and giddy as Natalie is.

Natalie is standing close enough to make out the faint ridges of Lottie’s scar, melding unevenly across her forehead. She brings up a trembling, gloved hand, lets it pause midair. Lottie’s eyes follow the movement, posture stock-still, taut, like she’s tracking an animal.

Natalie wonders if this is how it feels to be hunted.

“I kinda think you were, Lot.” Natalie breathes.

Her hand brushes against Lottie’s cheek. There’s a layer of thick fabric between the two of them, but Natalie hardly notices. She’s too focused on the way Lottie mirrors her shaky exhale as soon as Natalie’s hand finally makes contact.

“Look at me?” murmurs Natalie.

Lottie’s gaze slides up and locks on to her own. She’s flushed and panting ever so slightly, her mouth hanging open just enough for Natalie to fit her thumb between her teeth, though that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is the two of them, suspended in this moment, breathing heavy and hard in the harsh, wild air.

“I’m looking,” Lottie says, quiet and rough, effortlessly twisting between Natalie’s rib cage. “I’ve been looking for a while now.”

The leaves rustling overhead are drowned out by the sound of Natalie’s blood pulsing in her ears. She can hardly hear herself whisper.

“Sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lottie replies, leaning her cheek ever so slightly into Natalie’s touch. “Just let me keep watching you, and everything will be fine.”

Natalie wonders what she means by that. Why do those words, whispered so tenderly, sound so much like a warning? She doesn’t understand it. But it’s not like she really has any time to think about it further, when Lottie shifts closer, tilting her head to the side, gauging the distance between them, and Natalie is helpless to do anything but lean closer in herself.

She glances at Lottie’s lips, then back up again, and she’s rewarded with a crooked little grin. Natalie’s heart practically stops at the sight.

“Can I kiss you?” whispers Natalie.

“Please,” says Lottie.

And then, like planets falling out of orbit, they crash into each other, messy and frantic and utterly incredible. Natalie presses in eagerly, one hand cradling Lottie’s face, the other gripping desperately at the sleeve of her jacket, and Lottie melds into her just as fast, as if she can’t stand another moment spent apart. Their mouths move together, soft and slick, and Natalie is consumed by heat and want and every huge, scary emotion in the world, bursting like fireworks in the marrow of her bones.

This is it. Natalie realizes. This is how it’s meant to feel.

They remain intertwined for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes, Natalie losing herself in the back and forth. Her very being quakes and burns when Lottie licks into her mouth, like she can’t help but devour her. It’s hungry and wanting and all consumingly hot. Natalie can hardly believe any of it is real.

When they finally separate for air, she groans at the loss, gulps in a breath and leans in for one last kiss, desperate not to forget the taste. Lottie responds in kind, and when Natalie finally draws back, she’s gifted with a final gentle bite to her lower lip.

The two of them stand there, heaving for breath, and when Natalie glances at the ground beneath them, she’s almost shocked that the snow remained intact. She half expected it to have melted away, revealing a patch of damp grass like that one thawed tree amongst thousands of frozen branches.

Kissing Lottie is life-altering enough for something batshit insane like that to happen.

Natalie decides to come back tomorrow and check for scorch marks in the light of day. She’ll find this place again somehow, considering the way it’s rewired her brain and entered into her bloodstream, irreversibly so.

Natalie’s breathing slowly steadies out, and she looks back up at Lottie, who’s already watching her, just as she’d promised. Lottie’s eyes gleam, a shred of moonlight reflecting off of her pupils, and the visual of her chest heaving somehow catches in Natalie’s throat.

“That was good,” Lottie says matter-of-factly.

Natalie immediately cracks up.

“Hey, Nat, don’t laugh!” Lottie protests, though now she’s laughing too, wild and free, breathtakingly unrestrained.

“Oh my god…Lottie, what the fuck? That’s so fucking funny.”

“Shut up! I didn’t know what else to say!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Natalie wipes a stray tear away, full body howling dissolving into chuckles. “You were just so serious about it.”

“I was just being honest!” Lottie replies, pouting. Natalie’s body practically seizes up at how adorable she is.

“I know. Oh my god. You’re so cute.”

“Yeah, I am cute,” Lottie grumbles, looking absolutely delighted. Then, she grabs Natalie’s hand in her own and squeezes. “You liked it too, right?”

“Liked it? Lot, that’s, like, the understatement of the year. It was amazing,” Natalie replies. Her heart is soaring.

“Okay, good.” Lottie says, and there’s that shy smile again that might very well be the cause of Natalie’s death.

“We should definitely do that again sometime soon.” Natalie says. She squeezes Lottie’s hand. “But for now we should probably go back. I bet everyone thinks we got mauled by a bear or something.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” says Lottie firmly. Then, softly: “Let’s try and meet up tomorrow, just the two of us.”

“Damn, Lot, you’re kinda bold!” laughs Natalie. “But yeah, for sure. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“It’s a date,” agrees Lottie.

She bends down to pick up the discarded bucket, The two of them start off back to the cabin, and the whole walk back, Natalie grins.

Natalie confirms something very important in the days that follow. Whatever she was feeling for Travis, whatever she’d felt for any guy back home, was nothing in the face of Lottie fucking Matthews.

Ever since they kissed and Natalie’s whole world was subsequently rearranged, she’s found her priorities wildly shifting.

Like, before, Natalie was obviously trying not to die, because that would suck, but she hadn’t been overly bothered by the idea of eventually starving to death. Not this early on; she’d wanted to last a few more months at least, but she had all but made her peace with the fact that there was no conceivable way they’d all score a one-way trip back to Jersey. Unless, maybe it was their skeletal remains getting flown back for identification a few decades from now.

Besides, It isn’t like she was trying particularly hard to remain living back home, either.

A guidance counselor had once deemed her ‘passively suicidal’ after a particularly worrying 8th grade English essay as 13 year old Natalie had just nodded along and vowed never again to employ honesty in a school project. After all that, the most she got for her troubles was a phone call home and a remote control to the face when she crept through the door.

Plus an obscene amount of stolen Jolly Ranchers that she’d spent the entire meeting covertly funneling into her sweatshirt pocket.

So Natalie had never actively tried to kill herself, but she’d spent her whole life treading water. Maybe she would’ve taken a little more initiative, but watching her dad blow his own brains out a year after turning in that fateful English paper hadn’t exactly made death seem alluring. So, she’s been kicking the can down the road since, waiting to meet some grisly end but unwilling to seek it out herself.

The crash had eked out whatever was left of Natalie’s primal fear of death, and she’s been scraping by on sheer adrenaline ever since. Back home she never would have pegged herself as someone willing to put this much effort into staying alive when trapped in an objectively dead-end situation, but that was before she’d seen a teammate impaled through the chest by shrapnel from an airplane drinks cart. She realized back then that she wasn’t yet ready to surrender to a cruel fate.

Still, that didn’t mean she would never be ready.

For all the fucked-up, vicious, cruel months she’s spent out here, Natalie has been fully expecting there to come a day where she just decides to give up. Surely someday, if she hasn’t died yet, she’ll weigh her options and the scales will tip in the other direction. She’ll tire of fighting so hard to live, exhaustion will override her innate dread of her own mortality, and she’ll go sit in a field somewhere and wait for some hungry animal to devour her. That way, at least her death will carry some semblance of poetic justice.

But now, now that she’s intimately known the feeling of Lottie Matthews’ tongue in her mouth, Natalie feels a lot less inclined to allow a crazed beast to maim her. Because if she’s dead, she won’t be able to kiss Lottie anymore. And that’s just unacceptable. She simply won’t stand for it.

If there’s anything on this bitch of an earth that can reinvigorate Natalie’s will to live, it’s the tantalizing idea of a future with Lottie.

So she’s reinvested in surviving this whole mess, if only to get the chance to make out with Lottie in the privacy of Lottie’s gigantic bedroom. Natalie’s been there before on team-mandated sleepovers, caught glimpses of the frilly canopy and lavender pillowcases. She wants to push Lottie down on it and make her sing. She wants to press Lottie into that rich person’s mattress until the indents of their bodies render it permanently lumpy. And then, she wants to fall asleep next to her and wake up with a sore back.

It’s a new feeling, to be so wholly entranced by another person. Natalie can’t help but revel in it.

“You’re looking oddly cheery.” comes an unamused voice next to Natalie.

Tai takes a seat in the vacant chair next to Natalie, who’s keeping an eye on the bear gristle stew bubbling by the fireplace. The rest of their teammates, plus Travis and Javi, are in the attic entertaining themselves with a dusty set of cards Mari unearthed earlier in the day.

Coach Ben is asleep in his room, his snores echoing through the thin walls. There’s a subdued joyousness to the atmosphere thanks to Mari’s find that’s few and far between, especially since the days have gotten colder, and Natalie is thankful for the reprieve from the usual doom and gloom.

“And?” prompts Natalie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe I’m just really looking forward to dinner.”

Tai just raises an eyebrow at her.

The two of them have never jived particularly well, something in the structures of their personalities destining them to a relationship marked with disagreements. Strangely, they don’t clash nearly as much these days, which makes Natalie wonder if they’re just ill-suited to play soccer together. Tai is much less insufferable when she isn’t refusing to pass the ball to Natalie, after all.

“Why aren’t you upstairs with the rest of them?” asks Natalie.

“I’m not in the mood to take names in Solitaire right now,” Tai responds casually.

“Please. Have you seen Shauna play? I guarantee she’d kick your ass. Actually, hasn’t she already beaten you at Go Fish-”

“Anyway,” Tai interrupts with a withering glare. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Natalie frowns. “That’s not vague at all. Okay, what is it?”

“You and Travis broke up, right?”

“Yeah…” Natalie swivels in the chair to face Tai, who’s resting her feet on the chair across from her and eying her with curiosity.

“Why is that?”

“Jesus, what is this, an interview?” Natalie scoffs, but when Tai doesn’t say anything, she concedes. “Fine, whatever. I just realized I didn’t like him the same way he liked me. Simple as that.”

“Uh-huh,” Tai looks utterly unconvinced.

“What? That’s really it!”

“So it has nothing to do with you and Lottie?”

Natalie freezes. What the fuck.

“Um. I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Save it, Nat. The image of the two of you sucking face behind the cabin has been permanently burned into my brain.”

Natalie’s heart sinks. They’d been so careful about checking their surroundings, and the one time Lottie initiates an impromptu kiss…of course. Natalie should’ve figured. The close quarters renders secret keeping improbable at best around here. At least it was only Tai who saw.

“Van was with me.”

Aaand that explains the incessant winks Van’s been sending in her direction whenever Natalie says a word to Lottie.

Tai’s impartial expression shifts into concern when Natalie remains silent.

“Hey, you know I’m not, like, being a dick about it right? That’d be kind of hypocritical.”

“I know, I know,” Natalie sighs, then, just so Tai knows she isn’t bothered, she adds: “I still have nightmares about that night I caught you and Van fucking on a tree.”

“It wasn’t on a tree, it was against a tree. That’s an important distinction.”

“Either way, it haunts me.”

“Whatever,” Tai rolls her eyes, but Natalie can tell she isn’t really annoyed from the sliver of dimple etched into her cheek. “How’d that even happen, anyway?”

“Me and Lottie? Long story. Actually, it’s kind of Van’s fault. She thought I was coming out to her when I most definitely wasn't, but it sort of got me thinking.”

“Yeah, she and I have been betting on when you’re gonna come out.”

“Dude, what the hell? For how long?”

“Like, sophomore year?” Tai shrugs. “It’s not like there’s a ton of us around. I have a pretty solid gaydar.”

“Huh,” Natalie leans back in the chair, thinking. “You’re not wrong, though. I guess I am gay.”

“...you okay with that?” asks Tai.

There’s an odd mixture of warmth and sadness in her voice, like she’s expecting Natalie not to be. Like she hasn’t always been, herself.

“I think so,” responds Natalie. “I wasn’t really expecting it, I guess. But I’m not mad about it.”
And Natalie’s telling the truth.

After all the emotional turmoil it took to reach this conclusion, it turns out she’s not even particularly bothered by the fact that she likes girls. Sure, her mom would be disappointed if she ever found out, but Natalie is already well-practiced in letting her down. Classmates at school would be assholes about it, but randos have already been judging Natalie for one thing or another for years now. Plus, it’s not like fielding other people’s shitty reactions is something she has to worry about right now.

Like, It can’t exactly be understated that she’s stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere, and everyone present has proven not to be assholes in this particular regard. She can thank Van and Tai for indirectly confirming that.

Ultimately, Natalie has had plenty of practice confronting parts of herself that other people have told her to be ashamed of. And, in a shocking turn of events, Natalie hasn’t found anything new to hate about herself in this revelation. If anything, she’s thankful for it, grateful that those hollow moments with Travis aren’t all there is out there for her. She’s glad that she’s into girls, because if she wasn’t, she never would’ve gotten to kiss Lottie.

And missing out on that would’ve been a fucking travesty, to say the least.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Tai says with a small, indulgent smile. She glances up to the attic, checking everyone’s still occupied, and then brings a hand to her mouth conspiratorially.

“Plus, between you and me, Lottie’s totally been into you for a while now. Like, even before this whole shit storm.”

“What?! How do you know? For real?” Natalie hisses excitedly, willing herself to remain semi-calm.

“Not telling. But now Van owes me a combined ten bucks and a complimentary massage. So, in a way, I should be thanking you.”

“How many people have you two been betting on, anyway?”

The next morning, Natalie slinks over to the circle of people listening raptly to Lottie’s daily grounding session. Heads immediately swivel around as Natalie’s boots crunch traitorously against the snowy ground, heralding her arrival. Natalie comes to a stop a couple feet away, feeling distinctly unwelcome as a hush falls over the group.

She shoots a pleading glance over to Tai, but she just stares back, unwilling to pitch in on allaying the awkward silence, but tilting her head to the side just so, issuing a silent challenge. Natalie stifles a full body cringe and clears her throat.

“Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt, um, I was wondering if I could join in today?”

Natalie directs the question at Lottie, the only one who didn’t immediately open her eyes at the sound of Natalie’s approach. Slowly, those soft, dark eyes blink open, and Natalie privately squeals at the clear shift in Lottie’s facial expression when she registers Natalie’s presence. It’s almost jarring how quickly Lottie’s whole atmosphere shifts from mysteriously enlightened to barely consumed delight.

“Of course, Nat,” says Lottie warmly. “Come sit.”

“Like, next to you?”

Natalie can sense a faint displeasure roiling amongst the rest of the group when Lottie nods in affirmation. It’s as if Natalie is interrupting something holy, traipsing across the elevated moment with her muddy oversized boots.

The short trudge over to Lottie is the harshest walk of shame she’s ever experienced; even Van is watching her with an uncharacteristic frown. The only one who isn’t reverberating with disapproval is Tai, who mostly just looks bored, which Natalie can appreciate even if she isn’t stepping up to help dissolve the tension.

As Natalie plops down next to Lottie, Misty pipes up from beside Mari.

“Lottie, I just noticed there’s a strange mark on your neck. Could that mean something?” Misty implores, shooting the rest of the group a proud look as if implying they all should’ve noticed sooner.

Natalie leans over a little to check the spot that Misty’s pointing at, and immediately chokes on a horrified splutter.

“What? Do you see something, Natalie?” asks Misty excitedly.

“Wait, I think-” Tai’s voice is drowned out by murmured commotion.

Lottie turns to Natalie, bringing their faces close enough that their noses are practically touching. She looks concerned and more than a little confused. Natalie tries her best to ignore the explosion of gleeful anticipation at her chest at the close proximity. As much as she hates to admit it, right now there are more important things than how pretty Lottie looks from two inches away.

“Is something there?” Lottie asks into Natalie’s cheek, the fog of her breath curling past Natalie’s line of sight.

Lottie pulls the neck of her woolen sweater down to better bare her neck, and Natalie nearly screams.

“Lot. Remember last night?” she mutters through gritted teeth.

Lottie looks totally lost for a second, before her eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

“Is it…?”

“Yeah,” Natalie whispers apologetically. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it’d bruise that bad.”
Lottie stares at her for a second, before yanking her sweater collar back up and whirling around to address the group with a clap of her hands. Everyone immediately falls silent, and Natalie shoots an impressed look at the side of Lottie’s head, which affords her the knowledge that Lottie’s ears are glowing with an impressive flush. Natalie allows herself a second to marvel at the sheer level of cuteness, and then immediately backtracks into mental apologies.

“Everyone, it’s okay. I just cut myself the other day and it’s a little inflamed,” Lottie announces.

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like a wound sustained from a knife,” Misty replies unhelpfully.

“It kinda looks like a bug bite,” offers Mari.

Natalie just holds her head in her hands and curses herself for giving Lottie a hickey in maybe the worst possible location.

“It’s really okay,” Lottie says, a frantic note apparent in her tone. “I’m totally fine.”

“Actually, it sort of looks like-” Van’s voice chimes in with no small amount of interest.

“Shouldn’t we, like, get back on track now?” interrupts Tai.

“But what if she needs medical attention?” Misty sounds thrilled by the prospect.

“Guys,” comes a low voice on the other side of the circle. “Lottie says it’s cool. So it’s cool.”

Natalie can’t help but glance up, even though she’s been purposefully avoiding looking in that direction this entire time.

She’s greeted with an expected sight; Travis, nose reddened from the cold, looking more than a little exasperated behind the popped collar of his flannel jacket. She starts when his eyes slide over to her, and dread trickles over her body.

It’s been about a month since they broke up. Well, since Natalie broke up with him. Travis is no longer abjectly shunning her, but they share only the barest of exchanges, even in the hours they spend alone scouring the landscape for any sign of food. Natalie only has so much capacity for withstanding uncomfortable silences and those tense hunting missions with Travis are using up her entire allotment.

She prepares herself for Travis to glower at her, or maybe just look away entirely without a shred of acknowledgement. Either option is painful, she’s learned from experience.

“Let’s do this so Nat can check it out too,” Travis says steadily.

Natalie gawks at him. He just shrugs and turns to say something to Javi, who’s been sitting in total silence this entire time.

“Travis is right, let’s continue,” Lottie agrees, looking deeply relieved.

In no time at all, Lottie’s voice fits everyone back together again, gentle and guiding in the questions she asks, eliciting answers hushed in introspection.

Natalie tries to focus too, tries to lose herself in the moment, but it proves utterly impossible in the wake of Travis’ unexpected comment.

She urgently replays his words, parsing them out for some sarcastic underpinning, but comes up empty. The weight of guilt eases up on her lungs for the first time since she told him she wanted to break up, and watched his eyes immediately fill with tears.

Since then, Natalie has been half-convinced he’ll never get over it, and the two of them will never liven up bleak hunting days with snowball fights again. The prospect of losing out on those precious, mundane moments is unflinchingly grim.

But, seeing Travis grin at Javi, who looks a little less haunted under the bright winter sun, it occurs to Natalie that maybe Travis hating her isn’t the inevitability she’d thought it was. Like, maybe everything will actually be alright, one way or another. Maybe people are more resilient than she thinks.

Even if they’ve been stuck out here for months with steadily dwindling nourishment, even if there’s no fucking way they’re going to survive this, Natalie is helpless to ignore the flood of naked hope that breaks overhead as her gaze wanders across the faces of these people she’s been forced into knowing.

Lottie, Travis, Van, Tai, Shauna, Jackie, Laura Lee, names Natalie had once been so staunchly determined to forget as soon as she graduated, are now stubbornly engraved in the boroughs of her heart. It’s naive to think that everything will be okay, all things considered, but out here, encircled by the light of day, it suddenly seems foolish to think otherwise.

She watches Lottie as the group winds down, the way she touches shoulders comfortingly, and whispers words of comfort so assuredly. The solemn, reverent atmosphere that once hung in the air is long gone, dissipated after Misty’s interruption, as if everyone was struck with the reminder that they aren’t in the presence of a god, and Natalie is so fucking glad for it.

She’s witnessed Lottie’s power, her radiance, her infallible insight, and still she believes whole-heartedly that Lottie is no otherworldly creature. No matter how many miracles she instigates, there is nothing inhuman about Lottie Matthews, Natalie holds steady to her faith in that fact. Lottie is just as frightened and tired and hungry as the rest of them, and elevating her to deity status is pure willful ignorance, not to mention a shitty thing to do to Lottie herself.

Natalie understands why the rest of them do it, she knows Lottie is raw strength and beauty personified, but, perhaps because she’s closer to Lottie than everyone else, she’s unable to participate in the same line of thinking.

Lottie is no god. Natalie has touched her, has kissed her, has felt her warmth. She is as much of this earth as any of them are.

Natalie is sure of this.

That night, when everyone is fast asleep, the two of them bundle up in spare jackets and blankets and escape the cabin. It feels rebellious, like they’re back in Jersey sneaking out past curfew, even though there’s no one around to catch them. Natalie wonders if Lottie has ever snuck out of her third story bedroom. She pictures a ladder of tied bed sheets, or a sturdy tree branch foothold, illicit exits into a disorderly world. She wonders if she’ll ever climb out of Lottie’s window in the early morning and nearly break an arm traversing to the ground.

She wonders, and she hopes she will.

"Why did you join in, earlier?" Lottie's leaning against a snow-capped tree, her figure barely visible in the darkness, so Natalie confirms her presence through tactile means, which earns her a shrill shriek.

“Nat! Jesus, your hands are like ice.” Lottie protests.

But when Natalie moves to draw back, Lottie’s fingers snake down to clench around Natalie’s wrist, trapping it beneath her sweater.

“I’m getting a lot of mixed messages.” Natalie says with a smirk.

She brushes her palm against Lottie’s warm, soft stomach to feel the muscles buried underneath tense and quiver.

“You’re such an asshole,” Lottie whispers. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to see you in your element, I guess.” responds Natalie.

She backs Lottie further up against the tree, all the while pointedly ignoring any similarities between their current position and Tai and Van’s on that fateful night, which may as well have been years ago by now. Tai would have the biggest shit eating grin if she knew Natalie indirectly took a page out of her book.

A book that is presumably titled Romancing Your Girlfriend Post-Plane Crash.

“And? What did you think?”

“I think you were great,” Natalie murmurs, burrowing her face into Lottie’s neck. “And I love that Misty called you out on having a hickey.”

Lottie groans. “That was a nightmare.”

“I’m just glad someone appreciates my handiwork.”

Lottie’s hand shoots up to grasp Natalie’s chin, tilting her head up so their faces are mere inches apart.

“No biting where anyone can see it.” she says, ever so gently, teeth flashing in the darkness.

“Yes, ma’am.” Natalie manages to squeak out.

“Thanks for being there earlier, Nat. It was nice,” Lottie closes her eyes, softly bumping her forehead against Natalie’s. “Sometimes I worry about whether or not I’m saying the right thing. They’re all relying on me so much, you know? I can’t let them down.”

“Mm, it’s okay if you do, though,” Natalie says, shutting her own eyes, listening to Lottie’s breath. “You’re only human.”

“I guess.” Lottie mumbles, like she’s only half-convinced.

“Well, I know. I don’t care how many prophetic visions you have or how many miracles you make, you’re just a person and you're just as fucked up as any of us. And...I like that about you.”

Natalie leans in and kisses her, soft. Warmth blooms in her chest, stretching out into the recesses of her body. She hopes Lottie feels the same, and the way she kisses back, just as hungry, makes Natalie think maybe she does. They trade kisses back and forth, mouths pliant, exploring, until Lottie pulls back and grins at her.

“You like that I’m fucked up?”

“I like that you’re you,” Natalie says.

“So, you like me?”

They stare at each other. Natalie’s face warms, and she rejoices in the fact that it’s too dark for Lottie to notice. Though that means she can’t see Lottie super well, which sucks ass, especially when Natalie’s heart is thudding against her chest like this.

“I like you,” Natalie replies. “Yeah.”

She practically tastes the honesty, or maybe that’s the months-old grape chapstick Lottie found in the bottom of her bag recently. Either way, it’s sweet.

“I like you too.” says Lottie.

Natalie can hear Lottie’s smile, which makes her wonder if there’s such a thing as feeling too happy, like if she should be concerned for herself, medically, but soon abandons the idea. They’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. If her heart gives out, so be it. That would actually be a pretty great way to die.

“Cool. We like each other, then.”

Natalie leans in again, and Lottie follows suit, until they’re melding into each other, kissing like they’re drowning, like they can’t bother coming up for air. For a moment, Natalie is in free fall, blown away by the feeling. She can hardly believe this is real, that she’s kissing Lottie, and Lottie’s kissing her back, and it feels this fucking good. It’s so warm, so tender, and so all-consumingly right that a tear slips out from one of Natalie’s eyes, unbidden.

And at that exact moment, as if by some magic, Lottie’s thumb comes up to brush against Natalie’s cheek and catches it, brushing the salt into her skin. Natalie sighs, melts into her touch, and hopes, in spite of it all, that it’ll remain there forever.

And, secretly, a part of her believes it will.