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Chapter Text

Take me back to the night we met. —The Night We Met

Lily slits her finger with the fruit knife she’d been using in lieu of a letter opener when she receives the acceptance letter. Blood smears across the butter-hued, pristine pieces of paper as she frantically searches, grasping for the scholarship offer. 

As she steps onto the courtyard, the same blood-red emblem of the University of Cambridge magnifies in her eyes. Her suitcase lies forgotten at her feet—her father couldn’t be bothered to come, and her mother was unlikely to rise from the grave for the occasion. So there’s no one else to blame when a shiny black boot comes in contact with the tattered surface, the owner immediately responding with a string of curses.

“Oh, for goodness' sake, Sherlock,” a tall man reaches over to steady the teetering one. “It’s been five minutes.”

“It’s not my fault she left her ratty suitcase in the middle of the path,” the other retorts.

Lily’s eyes widen as he swivels to glare at her. He’s too pretty to be this insufferable, she thinks, taking in the fine bone structure and tumbling curls. He’ll age well—unfair, considering that personality rarely does. The moment only lasts until she locks eyes with him, when the awkwardness and irritation return in full force. 

“Lily! Lily!”

Ava runs over in a mess of pastel fabric as Lily narrowly manoeuvres her away from bumping into the so-called Sherlock once more. He looks bored, but the elder frowns as he surveys her coolly from behind his obnoxious sunglasses. 

“Lily Edlin?” The older man asks. Lily nods as she tries to hide her irritation for the pompous idiot in his three-piece suit— who wears that in the blazing summer ? “You’re the holder of the Rowan Williams Cambridge Studentship.”

It’s a statement more than a question, as he neglects to give her a chance to answer, instead smacking Sherlock’s heel with his umbrella. “See here, brother? This is someone who’s using their mind instead of wasting their talent. God knows you would’ve graduated early with this scholarship if you tried .”

“And be even more different than everyone else?” Sherlock snaps, turning to glare at his brother. “No thanks. And I remember telling you to call me William. I don’t need everyone mocking my name. Again. Just because you revel in being odd and better than everyone else does not mean I do. Try to understand that.”

“I think the name suits you,” the words slip out beyond her control. Although it was true, she enjoyed how the name rolled off her tongue, the syllables that required careful enunciation. A posh, overbearing name for a posh, overbearing man. 

William, not Sherlock, rolled his eyes. “And I imagine you have a boring, perfectly common name?”

“Lily Edlin.” 

“Lily Edlin,” he repeated. Her face burned at the mocking way he spoke, Ava’s grip on her hand tightening in support. “Yes, just as normal as I expected. Now excuse me.” William’s shoulder knocked into hers as he walked past. “I’d prefer not to spend any more time in my brother’s vicinity.”

His elder brother looked lost for a moment before shaking his head, racing to catch up with that wretched William. 

“What a pair of twats,” Ava muttered once the brothers disappeared down the path, her voice dripping with incredulity. “Only you could manage to cross paths with that on your first day.” Looping her arm through Lily’s, she gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

Before them, the grand towers of Cambridge loomed, shadowing their paths to a new chapter.

Heat seeps through the thin paper of the cup, burning her fingers as Lily hurries to set her coffee on the table. 

All around her, students slowly stream into the lecture hall, taking up a majority of the available seats. There aren’t many choices left for her—she drops the coffee cup on the nearest table, taking a seat in the far back of the hall. She won’t be able to see the board clearly, but that seems trivial compared to the imminent possibility of burned fingers. 

“You.” The word is sullen and irritated, wrenched from a gritty, smoke-infested throat. Lily turns to meet bright blue eyes—great, William is in the same ‘ Molecules in Medical Science ’ as she is. “Lily, was it?”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring him and the scent of burnt tobacco that comes with his presence. Undeterred, he simply drew the hood of his jacket back up, lolling lazily on the desk as the professor called each of them for attendance. 

“Lily Edlin?” The professor scans the room expectantly as she raises her hand. Immediately, his gaze snaps to her as a wide smile crosses his face. “Ah, yes, our young scholar. Your work on the correlation between exposure to burn pits and breast cancer was impressive; I have high hopes for you.”

She shifts uncomfortably at his words. Praise like this always makes her stomach tighten—it feels too much like expectation. Like she’s one mistake away from proving them wrong.

“And next to you?” The professor motioned vaguely in William’s direction. “Do introduce yourself.”

There’s an audible sigh as William straightens, brushing his messy curls away from his face. “William Holmes,” he introduces, his voice pocket-marked with the tell-tale smoker’s rasp. “Although I doubt there’ll be much chance for conversation.”

“Mr Holmes,” the professor’s smile fades slightly. “I had the honour of having dinner with your brother only last week; you were a strong competitor for the scholarship, pity about the interview.”

Pity. Lily watches as William simply shrugs, ignoring the whispers in the classroom as he sinks back into his seat.

“Is that him?” The sound of giggling is particularly obnoxious in the quiet dim of the library. Lily raises her eyes to blink blearily in the direction of the sound—two girls hiding pink-flushed faces as they eye a figure in the corner. 

“Oh my god, he’s even more handsome in real life.”

From Lily’s angle, she can see the figure they’re talking about perfectly. William Holmes slumps against the wall in the corner, a book resting on his lap. Of course, the pretentious prat has to be different , sitting on the floor when there’s an abundance of chairs. He isn’t even reading—just staring blankly into space, fingers tapping a restless rhythm into the wooden floor. 

It takes five minutes for him to snap, pull his hoodie low over his face and stuff his book into his leather-cracked bookbag. There’s a crescendo in the sound of giggles as he passes the gossip girls, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Lily can see him fidgeting with something in his left pocket—a lighter, passing the intricate metal piece between long fingers. And she’d have to be blind to ignore the scabbed bruises on his knuckles. 

Lily’s attention seems to falter inconsistently for the next hour. One moment her mind will be on synapses and acetylcholine—the next she’ll be staring at the spot where he last sat. It angers her that he inspires such a reaction from her. 

Damp cold seeps into her bones when she finally gives up, stepping out from the warm confines of the library. Her shiver is followed by a look of disgust as she inhales a lungful of cigarette smoke. 

“Do you mind?” Lily snaps, turning around to meet William’s eyes, where he leans nonchalantly against a pillar, unperturbed by the near-freezing temperatures. He doesn’t seem to register her annoyance as he exhales another plume of smoke into the air. “Yes, fine, just ignore me completely.” She mutters, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. 

It’s only as she’s about to leave that he finally speaks. “It’s about to rain,” he murmurs. 

“An astute observation,” she snaps back. “It doesn’t take a genius to see that.”

William finally loses the impassive expression on his face as a smile peeks through. “Oh, but it takes a genius to see that you don’t have an umbrella in your bag. The rigid rectangular shape is a by-product of you cramming it with your papers and books, and the small space on the right is reserved for your knick-knacks. Coupled with the fact that you’re obviously in a rush to return to your dorm, am I right to assume that you’re braving this cold with that feeble thing you call a jacket?”

Lily’s eyes narrow at his words. He simply takes a small bow, taking her silence as proof of his observation. It’s a long moment before he finally hands her a black collapsible umbrella. 

“Take it. It’s easy to catch a cold in October.”

“Oh look, he’s got manners,” Lily retorts snippily. But her expression softens as her hands wrap around the plastic handle. “Thank you.”

William simply turns back to his cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I’m simply proving my point.”

The following weeks confirm Lily’s suspicion that medical school, let alone an express program, is indeed hell.

Burned out and exhausted, she sits motionless as Ava flutters around her like a trapped butterfly, curling her hair and doing her makeup. In an attempt at relaxation, her best friend had decided to invite them both to a party of sorts at a nearby club. Still, Lily draws the line when Ava tries to shepherd her into a glittering gold mini dress, instead opting for a plain white one.

“ Ta-daaa ,” Ava squeals, pulling Lily before her full-length mirror. “You look gorgeous.”

Lily can confirm that, at the very least, her reflection is a pleasant one. With her dark brown hair tamed into loose curls, and her green eyes accentuated with black liner, it hides fatigue in her features. 

Two hours later, she’s sitting in the corner of the club, her hand hovering protectively over her glass of water. Ava swerves in and out of her line of sight, dancing under the club's strobe lights. Whoever invented clubbing as a way to relax was a fool, she thought, rubbing her aching calves sympathetically; Ava had forced a pair of kitten heels onto her before they left. 

After trying and failing to catch Ava’s attention for the fifth time, Lily gives up, grabbing her purse before navigating through the throngs of sweaty bodies to the exit. She’ll text Ava, although it’s unlikely she’ll see it before noon.

Slipping out the back door, the cold night air is a shock to her senses. Even so, students mill around, squatting on the floors or leaning against the walls, expelling acrid smoke and other things she preferred not to think about. Her brow remained tightened until she successfully exited the area, following a quiet path through the park.

“Where the fuck is he?”

The sound of yells and pattering feet reached her a moment before a warm hand clasped onto her wrist, dragging her into the shadows on the side of the road.

“What—” Lily yelped as she turned, recognising William’s insolent face. Before she could react, his hand clamped over her mouth, his brow furrowed in warning. His eyes, sharp and imploring, seemed to beg her to stay silent. Something in his gaze stilled her, freezing her in place as he leaned in, closer and closer until her back pressed firmly against the rough bark of the tree.

At their proximity, she could see the bruises that littered his face like supernovas, his constricted pupils that resembled pinpricks, exposing the deep blue of his irises. It prompts a moment of hesitation before she ignores the unbidden fear of hurting him, smacking his hand away. 

“Humour me,” William whispered, his teeth glinting in the darkness. 

“You’re drunk!” 

He didn’t seem to mind the accusation, a faint smile carefully maintained on his face as he reached to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Not only drunk,” he murmured. “Sometimes, alcohol just isn’t enough for my mind.” His smile only grew wider as Lily’s eyes widened in understanding. “Your presence helps quiet it, though.”

Her heels crunch against the grass, sinking into a soft patch of dirt as she pushes him away, her expression ragged in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re high ?” With a scoff, she turned away, valiantly balancing on one leg as she tugged the borrowed shoe out of the mud and sludge. Somehow, his presence always inevitably manages to bring out the worst in her. 

“Careful,” William warns, his hand a warm weight against her shoulder. Lights flash in the near distance as shouts of ‘ He’s here!’ rise in volume. His expression only tightens for a moment before he tugs at her, and they’re back where they started—his hand on her mouth and with her back against the tree. 

Something flits across his face before it turns impassive. Lily thinks she might be more nervous than him—and she’s not the one about to get beaten up. Her pulse thumps loudly in her ears as he leans in close, his face magnified before her eyes. 

Behind him, Lily can see lights swaying in the darkness. His assailants wave their flashlights around blindly, searching for him. It just barely avoids them. Once. Twice. Then it focuses directly on his back.  

William simply maintains his nonchalant smile. “Please,” he whispers, his breath ghosting her ear, before he sweeps down, pressing his lips against hers. 

As her body warms against him, she faintly registers that he tastes of cigarettes, of bitter whiskey and mint. Limited experience from the movies prompts her to close her eyes as her body is seized by a wave of vertigo. Lily’s never gotten high, but in that moment, immobilised by space and time, she thinks her closest comparable experience may be this. 

It takes a stream of light directly into her eyes for her to snap out of it. There’s a wave of wolf-whistling, raucous and heady. “Get a room,” someone yells as she scrambles out of his arms. Thankfully, the light swerves away soon enough, their footsteps echoing as they continue their route in search of the man holding her in his arms.

“Get away from me,” Lily hisses as she pushes him away. “What the fuck do you think you were doing.”

Williams's face is unreadable as he steps away, his eyes lingering on her swollen lips. His lip twitches, and a smile forms on his face—only Lily thinks sadness seeps from every pore. “Sorry,” he apologises, a mocking edge to his voice. “Does that count as taking advantage of you? You can kiss me if it makes you feel better.”

Disbelief colours Lily’s tone as she shakes her head. As the adrenaline dies down, she’s all too aware of how the strap of her dress has slipped down her shoulder, that the skirt has ridden up her thigh, and that the pressure of his lips is still a shadow against hers. In the moonlight, William looks thoroughly debauched as he calmly stares, a prisoner waiting for his prosecution. And it scares Lily that the limited anger she procures isn’t even targeted at him. 

“Does this get you off?” The hoarseness in her voice shocks her as she glares at him. “This sick sense of self-righteousness? That you’ll never get in trouble because money and privilege can always knock you back in line?” Satisfaction warms her chest as the smile drops from his face. “Don’t come near me again.”

His gaze is scorching as she turns and walks away. Only after he’s out of sight does she realise she’d been waiting for him to stop her. And that terrifies her more than anything else—that some part of her wanted to stay.

Chapter Text

I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my saviour. — Sailor Song

“Mr. Jones and Ms. Evans.”

“Mr. Brown and Mr. Davies.”

Lily surveys the room listlessly as the named pairs move to stand beside each other. One by one, the professor calls out their names, whittling her possible partners down. She can’t help but feel apprehensive as she stares at the remaining people, unable to imagine that they’d be any help in the gruelling project to come. 

“Ms. Edlin and—,” the professor clears his throat, squinting slightly at his notepad. “Ms. Edlin and Mr. Holmes.”

Fuck . Lily didn’t even know he was an option—she’d never seen him attend lectures. Yet as the final groupings were announced, she found herself standing in the corner, an empty slot on her right. Somehow, William Holmes continually managed to fuck up her life, his lack of attendance notwithstanding.

It’s a nightmare to track him down.

For the next week, he’s absent from all his classes she knows of, no one seems to have seen him for ages, and even his dorm is empty when asked. In the end, Lily gets her information from a ratty hippie with a blunt dangling from his lips and way too touchy hands. 

“William Holmes?” The hippie grins in a way that shows all his teeth. He looks like the kind of man who’d beg for relevance in a woman’s scream. Pathetic. “Ya, I’ve heard of him. What’s a pretty girl like you doing with a guy like him?”

Lily scrunches her nose at the influx of bad breath she’d just been assaulted with. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Watching his hand inch closer from the side of her eye, she plastered on a sweet smile, taking a step backwards. “I just need to have a quick word with him.”

It takes much negotiating and a pack of Marlboro Reds before Lily follows the hippie through a dark alleyway, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. For all his attitude, William always had an air of refinement—structured jackets tailored to his figure, butter-soft sweatpants—she couldn’t imagine him lying on the ground, beside a puddle, in this scruffy side of town. 

“In here,” the hippie guides her into a ramshackle building, smelling of mould and damp, where she finds a small group of people gathered. 

“Oy, Holmes!” 

It was William. It had to be because she didn’t know anyone else who had eyes as blue as his. Yet he seemed to have lost ten pounds since their last meeting, his face haggard and eyes bloodshot as he stared at her. Lily’s eyes narrowed in on his left hand, where his sleeve was rolled up, exposing needle holes, bruised and yellow around their edges. 

“Come here for a repeat of last time?” At least William seemed coherent enough to recognise her as he straggled over. “I didn’t know you were desperate enough to follow me to this hellhole.”

Normally, Lily would have responded with a retort or perhaps a slap, yet in that moment her attention was zeroed in on the sweat beading his brow, the spasms in his fingers, and the tenseness of his shoulders. Everything suggested to her that he was undergoing the early stages of withdrawal. 

“What did you take?” Lily’s tone is sharp as she takes hold of his arm, steadying his swaying figure. “Do you have anyone I can contact? Your parents? Your brother?” William simply huffs as he leans his entire body weight against her instead. “Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters under her breath, propping him up against her shoulder. 

Turning to the hippie, she fumbles in her bag for her phone. “Do you know where I could get a cab?”

“There are no cabs here,” the hippie explains. Then his expression darkens, a contradiction to the rising smile on his face. “I could always give you a ride, darlin’. You and Holmes here.”

As he reaches for her, Lily quickly moves back, William’s deadweight nearly tipping her over as she scrambles to keep them both upright. “Hey, help me out here,” she hisses, elbowing William in his midriff. 

William’s expression is faintly amused as he straightens, meeting the hippie’s eyes. “Dylan, Dylan, Dylan,” he singsongs. “Can’t you tell that she isn’t interested? Take a hint, mate.”

Dylan’s grin falters, his expression turning hard. “That so?” He rolls his shoulders, widening his stance. “'Cause it looks like your pretty friend needs a lift.”

Lily’s expression tightens as she observes the impending fight before her. Tightening her grip on William, she shakes her head, trying to get through his knuckle-headed brain that violence still isn’t the answer. Yet he seems oblivious to her intentions, reckless to a fault as he tilts his head, a lazy smirk gracing his lips. 

“You know, Dylan, if you were so desperate, you could always look into the streets.”

Dylan’s fist clenches, and Lily quickly stands in front of William before the situation escalates. “Listen.” She tries to keep her tone calm and measured, fighting the rising panic in her chest. If she’d known William Holmes would be so much trouble, she’d have done the project herself, sleep be damned. “He’s not exactly in the right mind. I’ll even save you the trouble of carrying this idiot home.” The smile on her face wavers along with her bravado. “Will you let us go?”

“Oh, I think you’ve got this all wrong, darlin’,” Dylan laughs, his constricted pupils flashing in the light as Lily’s blood turns cold. “No one is leavin’ here.”

Everything about this situation is unfamiliar to Lily as she desperately grabs William’s arm. At the very least, he could act as a human shield in an emergency. At that moment, as her thoughts slowly spiral out of control, she hears a laugh. William’s laugh. In the urgency of the situation, the sound is too loud, too unhinged, grating on her frayed nerves. 

“You know what, Dylan?” He throws off Lily’s hold, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow. “You’re even uglier inside than out.”

Before Lily can react, William swings—misses entirely—and loses his balance, and crashes into a table, sending bottles and glass flying across the room. Dylan swears, reaching for Lily, but instinct prompts her to move, kneeing him in the groin before fleeing, the sound of cursing intensifying behind her back. 

The other people in the room seemed hesitant to step in—probably high out of their minds—but Lily wasn’t risking it as she pulled William up, yanking him towards the door. 

“For god’s sake, move faster!”

“You’re ripping my jacket,” William complains loudly, his breath coming out in pants. “It’s tailor-made and cashmere.”

Lily rolls her eyes, dragging him along until they reach the main street, where the sound of incoming traffic drowned out the ragged beating of her heart.

William felt like a dead weight, dragging her into the depths with him.

By the time she managed to lug him into her hostel, he was well into the throes of withdrawal, his nails drawing blood from his palm, his skin damp against hers. His pupils were constricted, the iris a deserted island in a stormy sea as she laid him on her bed. 

Rinsing a towel under the icy water of her sink, she tried to lower his temperature, laying the cloth against his forehead as he writhed and groaned. “Listen,” Lily gripped his shoulder, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You need professional help. Is there anyone I can call? Family? Friends?”

The sound of her voice made him flinch as if her soft tone was echoed in his ears. 

“No—” The words were gritted out from between his teeth before his eyes fluttered closed once more in agony. “Don’t call anyone. Especially not the hospital.”

Just as she was about to argue, he launched his upper body across the bed, retching, before promptly vomiting over the floor. Panic didn’t serve anyone. She shelved it like she always did—with precision and quiet disgust. She dropped to her knees beside him, gently turning his head to the side to keep him from choking on his vomit.

“Airway, breathing, circulation,” she muttered under her breath, checking his pulse with two fingers pressed to his neck. Fast. Thready. Skin still clammy.

He was deep in it—opioid withdrawal, maybe. The pinpoint pupils, the sweating, tremors, nausea, hypersensitivity to noise—all textbook signs. But she couldn’t rule out complications. Dehydration. Electrolyte imbalance. Worse.

She got him on his side in the recovery position, his limbs twitching with every wave of agony.

“William,” she said firmly, pressing a fresh, cold towel to his neck. “I need to know what you took. When was the last dose?”

No answer—only a groan and a curl into himself like he was being torn from the inside out.

“Talk to me,” Lily snapped, ice creeping into her tone. “What did you take? Heroin? Fentanyl? A mixture? I can’t help you if you won’t bother to save yourself.”

William’s entire body jerked, limbs spasming uncontrollably. His jaw was clenched so tight from the pain, she could hear the dull grind of teeth gnashing against teeth. “My brother,” he rasped, his hand locking around her wrist in a sudden, desperate plea. He was so pale—his skin had taken on that same eerie bluish tint—and for a moment, Lily numbly wondered whether he’d bleed blue too.

“Okay,” Lily muttered, rolling him onto his back to extract his phone from his pocket. Surprise, surprise —his phone didn’t have a lock on it. In this day and age, the act of stupidity irritated her as she scrolled through his contacts. There weren’t many, and the name Mycroft stood out with its pretentiousness. 

As she pressed the dial button, William gave a sharp gasp and went completely limp, his mouth opening and closing like he was drowning. Please pick up , Lily pleaded, the dial tone the backdrop of her nightmare as she stood frozen in place. Please .

The white fluorescent lights were cruel as Lily observed her reflection in the mirror. Sleepless nights had left her skin dull and sallow, a lack of appetite leaving her features to stand out starkly against its pale canvas. The only spot of colour was her eyes—harsh green eyes that inhabited her face like an invasive species. 

The moment of self-reflection left her feeling drained as she exited the washroom, the door clicking sharply behind her. Mycroft Holmes had clearly heard her entrance into the adjoined hospital room as he turned, his face impassive. 

“Ms. Edlin,” he motioned for her to sit on the chair opposite him. “I’d like to express my thanks for your help towards my brother.”

Lily’s eyes slid towards the right, where she could see William’s mop of curls—a black hole against the bleached hospital sheets. “It’s what was right,” she replied faintly, a contradiction to the hard edge in her voice. “I’m a medical student, you see.”

“I’m aware.” The room elapsed into silence for several long moments as Mycroft observed her. His tone was carefully neutral when he finally spoke. “I am also aware of you and my brother’s late-night escapades.”

Mycroft’s expression doesn’t shift as he watches her shift awkwardly in her chair. It’s degrading—the way social etiquette instructs her to stay as he scrutinises her beneath his gaze. “I’m not here to berate you, Miss Edlin. I’m simply here to ensure you know what you are getting yourself into. Think of it as a warning, an instruction manual for what’s to come.”

“I’m not—” Lily pauses, rethinking her words carefully. “We’re not friends. We’re barely classmates.”

“Well, you certainly hold a great deal of my brother’s interest for someone who’s barely a classmate.”

His words were enough to cut off whatever excuses Lily had been ready to make. As she met his eyes, it registered for the first time that both he and William had the same startlingly blue eyes. Only Mycroft’s held an air of emotional detachment that only set her more on edge. Whatever interest William held in her, Mycroft did not share it. He was simply gauging whether she was a threat or an asset. And Lily had a feeling that she’d dislike whichever conclusion he made. 

“What happened that night—” Lily noticed Mycroft’s eyes flickered in William’s direction before they returned their intense focus on her. “It will not happen again. I see your brother as a classmate, and perhaps a friend one day, but nothing more than that.”

Mycroft nodded thoughtfully before a small, self-deprecating smile surfaced. “You may see it that way, but I’m not sure my brother shares your views.” He shrugged, pulling a cheque out of his briefcase and sliding it across the table to her. “Anyhow, I’m obligated to give you this. A token of appreciation from the family.”

Lily’s eyes flicked towards the numbers written in elegant cursive before shaking her head. “I appreciate your thanks, but this isn’t necessary.”

“Keep it,” Mycroft insisted. “With your circumstances,” he had a knowing expression on his face as he strode across the room with an air of finality. “I think you’ll need it. I doubt your scholarship covers much of your living expenses.” Holding the door open, he gave her a polite smile. “If you don’t mind, I think my brother prefers to recuperate in peace.”

Lily considered being stubborn and refusing. Yet she had enough sense to know the consequences of her actions as she carefully pocketed the cheque. “I won’t impose on you any longer.” She gave a final, fleeting glance at the prone figure on the bed before nodding politely at Mycroft. “Give William my regards.”

Mycroft eyed her with an unreadable expression. “I will.”

Chapter Text

Violet, blue, green, red, to keep me at arm’s length don’t work. —Cinnamon Girl

Lily pressed her palm against the window, feeling the glass beneath her fingertips. There were thousands of nerve endings in her fingertips, yet she felt numb to the cold as she stared at the drifting snowflakes. November in Cambridge had brought along a sudden winter, an early snow leaving the university a frozen wasteland as students retreated indoors. 

“Ta-da!” Ava’s expression was triumphant as she held up a sketch of Lily staring out the gilded glass. “I think I’ve captured your facial expressions this time. What do you think?”

Personally, Lily thought the sketch was painfully realistic. The tightness of her features, the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath fogged the glass in the crystallisation of a sigh—Ava’s skills translated her exhaustion onto paper. 

Ava must’ve seen something in her expression because her smile quickly fell. “You don’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

Lily turned away from the window. The snow had started to fall heavier now, blanketing the courtyard in white. There was a dull throb in the back of her head, tell-tale symptoms of an incoming headache. It hurt to look at so much white. 

“I just didn’t think I looked so lost.”

Ava’s expression flickered between pity and sadness as she reached over, tugging Lily into her warm embrace. “It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. You don’t have to carry the burden all by yourself.” There was a soft huff as Lily relaxed, releasing the tension that strung her nerves. “So, did you manage to find the Holmes boy?” Ava continued innocently, oblivious to the way Lily’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Excuse me?”

Ava raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Lily’s tone. “I’m simply curious whether you’re going to end up doing the entire project yourself in lieu of working with your assigned partner. You’re already exhausted as is.”

“That’s what I’m here to talk about.”

Lily registered the scent of bergamot and oakmoss a moment before she heard his voice. Upon meeting William’s eyes, there was a sheepishness she did not recognise, along with the faint crinkle of a smile. Attired in a crisp button-down and tailored coat, he looked nothing like the dishevelled, tortured man whom she’d rescued from the depths of a drug den.

“You must be William.” There was a teasing lilt in Ava’s voice as she held out her hand for William to shake. “Ava Barclay. It’s nice to meet you.”

For once, William seemed obliged to obey societal norms as he shook Ava’s hand, a charming smile on his face. This time, there was no hiding the surprise on Lily’s face as she watched him converse with an easy grace that quickly left her best friend at ease. It felt odd to see him at his best when he usually projected his worst around her. 

With his attention successfully diverted, Lily took the chance to study him. There was a fullness in his cheeks—he’d recovered some of the weight he’d lost, filling in the hollows of his cheeks with a healthy flush, perhaps exacerbated by the fact that he was blushing ? Lily blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Before her, he was surly, rude and borderline hateful, yet he chose to become the perfect aristocratic gentleman before Ava. At the rate he was changing personalities, he was sure to give her whiplash. Lily couldn’t hide the scoff that escaped. 

William’s attention shifted back to her immediately. 

“Yes?”

He was smiling at her, his expression warm for once, yet Lily couldn’t muster the energy for even a small reciprocating smile. Suddenly nervous, she looked away, shaking her head. She didn’t know how to face this polished, perfect version of him. “It’s nothing,” Lily muttered, “I have to go, I have class in an hour and I haven’t had lunch,” pulling on her coat and giving Ava a brief hug before heading for the stairwell.

One, two, three , Lily counts under her breath. Instinctively, she knows William will follow, and he does, his hand a warm weight on her shoulder as he pulls her to a stop. 

“I haven’t had lunch either,” he stated in a way that implied she was supposed to care.

“How unfortunate.”

“Quite,” he replied as he opened the door for her, waiting for Lily to step out into the courtyard. 

Immediately, the cold air deeps through her jacket and into her bones as she sneezes. There was a quiet huff behind her, then the sudden weight of wool draped around her neck—a scarf, warm and faintly scented with bergamot. William’s scarf. Lily looks up to see a crooked smile on his face. She blinked as he adjusted it with careful hands, not quite meeting her eyes. Cautious, she thought. 

“What is it with you and braving the cold in barely anything?” His voice was scolding, yet the effect was dampened by the fact that he was tying the scarf into a bow. 

Lily was firmly convinced the world had gone mad. 

William led her into a quiet café, seating them by the window before signalling for a waiter with an arrogant raise of his hand. Lily’s stomach felt tight with nerves as she randomly pointed at a dish on the menu before turning to stare out the frosted glass so she wouldn’t accidentally meet his eyes.

For a while, they ate in silence. Lily focused on her soup. It tasted like ash on her tongue. William tore pieces of bread with unnecessary care, like it gave his hands something to do.

“I heard you met my brother.”

Lily didn’t answer immediately. She lifted her spoon again, let it hover over the bowl for a moment, then set it down with a soft clink.

“I did,” she said finally, her voice neutral. “He was very insistent that I know the risks pertaining to becoming friends with you.” Lily paused, watching William’s expression. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he flinched at her words. “Ironic considering we barely know each other.”

William gave a soft, dry laugh before his expression settled into something more bitter. “That sounds like him. Always cleaning up my messes.”

She turned to face him, her expression carefully blank. “Is this what you’re doing? Cleaning up a mess? Tying up some loose ends?”

“Lily.” Lily startled at the sound of her name on his tongue. She could recount numerous times she’d called him by name, yet this was the first time he’d ever said hers in a way that wasn’t mocking. “Lily,” he repeated, like he didn’t know what else to say. He seemed lost as he looked out the window, jaw tightening for a second before exhaling through his nose, slow and deliberate.

“You’re not a mess.”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on her as she glanced sideways at him. He wasn’t looking at her. Just at the glass. He stared with such intensity that it might offer him a correct answer. 

“I don’t think you’re a loose end,” he continued, quiet but certain. 

“How very reassuring,” Lily murmured. “So why are you here?” After a long moment of silence, she sighed, her fingers tightening around the edge of her bowl. “If you’re here to thank me, don’t bother. It was simply the right thing to do.”

“That’s not—” William stopped, running a hand through his hair as he mussed up his perfectly styled curls. He seemed agitated as he snapped his gaze back to hers. “That’s not why I came.”

“Then what do you want from me?” The words came out sharper than she intended. She could feel her composure cracking as its edges as she forced herself to calm down, focusing on the steady thrum of her heartbeat instead. “Why are you here, William?”

She heard the scrape of his chair shift as he leaned forward, arms on the table. “I don’t want anything from you.” He looked frustrated, as if words couldn’t properly express the storm of emotions within him. “I just don’t want your impression of me to be an addict who can’t even take care of himself.”

“Is that why you showed up all prim and proper today?” Lily straightened her spine, meeting him eye-for-eye. “Do you believe that one lunch will disguise the truth within? You kissed me on our second meeting! Then you proceed to throw yourself into a drug den and have a withdrawal so intense it caused a fucking seizure.” 

The unravelling of his composure came soon after hers. 

“Oh, shut up.” The venom in his voice was unmistakable, although not as obviously as the hurt in his eyes. “You act like I forced you to follow me into the drug den, much more drag me out there. I had it all under control.”

“Yes, like the way you nearly killed us both because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut,” Lily retorted. There was the William she knew, all barbs and edges, self-destructive to an extent that the aftershocks rattled those around him. For a second, she almost pitied him. Almost. “You know,” she said quietly, “for someone who claims not to want anything, you’re very good at demanding reactions.”

His jaw clenched. “And you’re very good at pretending not to care.”

“Pretending?” Her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I’m not pretending. I never wanted you around,” she said, eyes cold, even though her hands trembled in her lap. “I just didn’t want to watch you die.”

“And there you go again,” he murmured, eyes bleak and distant. “You’re pretending again.”

The silence that ensued stretched taut between them, fragile as spun glass.

When the waiter came to clear their half-eaten plates, Lily pushed hers away wordlessly and stood.

“I need to go,” she said.

“Of course,” he murmured.

She paused before turning, her gaze brushing his face one last time. “Next time, if you’re going to show up, figure out why first.”

Then she walked out, leaving the scarf on their table, braving the cold winter alone, as she always did.

Chapter Text

When you know, you know. —Margaret (ft. Bleachers)

“If you were to stick a pH probe in your blood, you would find it slightly basic, at 7.4. Why?” Without waiting for a reply, the professor droned on. “Its basicity neutralises the slightly acidic nature of carbon dioxide in an example of buffers in homeostatic regulation.”

Lily forced herself to ignore the suffocating weight of his gaze as she deliberately wrote her notes at the slowest possible speed. Three days, he’d left her alone for three days before he was back at her heels, more persistent than ever. For a genius who taunted others for being unable to take a hint, he didn’t seem to be able to take one either.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?” Ignore him, was the mantra Lily repeated in her head as William shifted closer, his chair screeching against the hardwood floor. “I simply wish to contribute to the project. I’ve seen the rubric—we need to author a research paper by the end of the month. It’s not a one-person task.”

Ignore him . It didn’t matter that he sounded sincere, that his words rang true, and she hadn’t devoted any time to brainstorming an experiment. She didn’t even have a research question.

“We don’t need to talk about it .” There was no need to specify what ‘it’ meant. Lily felt the sea of unspoken words between them as keenly as the way he still refused to look away. “We’ll act professional. I won’t act like a prat. Hell, I’ll even apologise. Isn’t that what etiquette dictates?”

Lily’s eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“And what exactly would you be apologising for?” 

“I don’t—” Then, as quickly as the vulnerability he projected, William’s expression turned neutral, emotions carefully shuttered in his mind as he stared thoughtfully at her. “Your attitude changed after I came back from the hospital. After I talked to your friend. You’re mad at me. You’re mad that I’m acting like nothing happened between us.” He paused, taking in the stony expression on her face. “But is it so bad to be normal?”

“This—” A mocking laugh broke free from Lily as she gestured between the pair of them. “This isn’t normal. This is a one-sided play that you’re acting in. You’re not charming, or polite, or whatever persona you’ve written for yourself. At the very least, you were honest when you were high.”

If Lily looked carefully, she could see the fractures in his mask as William’s vulnerability peaked at her words. 

“You want me to be honest?” His voice was quieter, but laced with something sharp—almost bitter. “Let’s both be honest, then.”

Around them, the lecture continued, the professor moving on to acid-base equilibria. There was a determination in his eyes as William pulled her up by her arm, the warmth of his hand acting as a guide as he led them both out of the classroom. As the door closed behind them, the hallway descended into silence as Lily waited for him to crack. 

“I can’t win with you,” he finally murmured, voice rough. “If I show up high, I’m reckless. If I show up clean, I’m a liar. What do you want from me, Lily?”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

“Liar,” he shot back. “You’re deflecting.”

Lily took a deep breath. His presence felt suffocating, breaking through barricades she’d worked hard to build. “I’m not—” she started, then stopped, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “You don’t get to call me a liar when you built our entire acquaintance on misdirection.”

“But you stayed. You stayed when I asked for help. You stayed when I was high.”

“Don’t twist the situation, William,” Lily shot back. “Don’t make this into something it’s not. Whatever happened between us, I didn’t do it for personal reasons. It didn’t mean anything.”

William let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but without the humour. “You’re good at that,” he said. “Making things mean nothing. It’s impressive.”

Then, as if the words had cost him something, he turned, gathering his bag in one smooth motion. “I’ll draft the research proposal tonight,” he said, his voice carefully neutral again. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow for feedback.”

He faltered for a moment, as if waiting for her to stop him, even though he knew she wouldn’t. And then he was gone, leaving behind only the ghost of bergamot and the weight of the things they still couldn’t say.

A sense of numbness hung around Lily, whether from the cold or shock, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was a combination of both as she unlocked the door to her dorm. Somehow, the interior was colder than outside, the insulation keeping the ice in and the warmth out.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Lily swore under her breath as the radiator groaned and creaked before going completely silent. “Don’t give up on me now.” And as is typical with all inanimate objects, the radiator remained silent even as it took on the brunt of her anger as she irritably twisted the valve back and forth.

A groan escaped her as she pressed her forehead against the cold metal surface and willed tears not to fall. Exhaustion was etched so deeply into her bones that sleep felt irreversible. Perhaps she’d fall asleep and sink into her eternal silence. She wondered whether sleep deprivation made everyone so macabre.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Edlin, but your appeal to be upgraded to a new room has been denied. At this point in the academic year, we simply do not have any vacant rooms left.”

Her headache had escalated to a full-blown migraine by the time she’d trekked across campus to meet the Head of Student Accommodations. Mycroft Holmes shared numerous similarities with his brother, especially in the fact that they were, more often than not, infuriatingly accurate, seeing through her with ease. She was, in fact, desperately in need of his cheque. She couldn’t imagine braving the winter in her room—pneumonia would probably come sooner than spring.

“Are there any possible alternatives?” She felt desperate as she watched the administrator flip through a wad of pamphlets. “Or perhaps living off campus—”

“Living off-campus?” The woman arched a brow over her wire-rimmed glasses. “Cambridge rents are astronomical, Ms. Edlin. Plus, this close to Christmas? I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to secure an accommodation even with significant financial backing. You’d be expected to pay a term in advance at a minimum. Have you secured the required funds?”

Lily’s fingers curled tightly around the strap of her satchel. “Are there no alternatives?”

“There are bursary extensions you could apply for, though most are reserved for international students or emergencies.” The woman offered a gentle smile that reflected the pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Edlin.”

“This isn’t considered an emergency?”

“I’m afraid we don’t consider a non-functional radiator a medical hazard. Now, if there were black mould or structural damage—”

“My water bottle froze overnight.” Lily’s voice cracked slightly, a fracture in her otherwise composed exterior. “Surely there must be something you can do.”

“Oh dearie, I understand,” the administrator poured her a piping hot cup of tea from a thermos, leading her onto the sofa. “Have you tried requesting a portable heater from maintenance?”

“I have. They said I’m on a waitlist.”

The cheque in Lily’s pocket felt like it was burning a hole through her skin. The scraps of pride to her name forced her to hesitate in using the money Mycroft provided—it felt too much like giving in to William’s requests for friendship. Or companionship. Or just a truce. All the options lumped in her throat, preventing her from expressing her true feelings.

“Ms. Edlin,” I do wish I could help more,” the woman said finally, folding her hands. “But unless your financial circumstances have changed significantly, the university cannot reassign you.”

Lily took a deep breath before pulling out the cheque, her left hand clenched into a fist at her side. “Would a thousand pounds be enough for two terms?”

The administrator blinked, taken aback by the figure. “A thousand…” she repeated, her voice softening with surprise as she reached for the cheque. “That’s—well, that’s more than enough, Ms. Edlin. If this is legitimate, I can speak with the finance department directly.”

Lily nodded, jaw tight. “It’s legitimate.”

There was a pause as the woman examined the slip of paper, fingers brushing the embossed signature at the bottom.

“Mr. Holmes?” she asked, more to herself than to Lily.

Lily didn’t respond. Her silence said enough.

“Very well,” the woman nodded after a beat. “If you wait, I’ll start searching for an updated accommodation for you immediately. At this budget, I should be able to pull some strings. You wait for my good news, Ms. Edlin.”

Lily stood slowly. “Thank you,” she said, though the words stuck in her throat like dry bread.

Of course. She should’ve known that money would open all doors. Her mouth felt bitter as she walked to Ava’s dorm. She’d stay there for the time being—at least until she found a new accommodation. The cruelty that she had to choose between pride and comfort wasn’t lost on her. And the truth stung more than she liked.

Ava hums a tune as she does Lily’s eyeshadow with meticulously placed strokes. True to her major, Ava treats Lily’s face like a canvas, carving shadows, hiding blemishes, and emphasising her best features. It seems that her eyes were favoured today as brown shadow and gold glitter draw out the striking green.

Lily’s fingers trail over different fabrics and various patterns, and Ava pulls her before her closet. Then there’s the feeling of chiffon against skin as the dress is tugged over her head. Soft leather around her feet and rosy perfume around her as Ava spins her in a circle, spritzing at intervals. Silk twisted around her finger as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. 

Muggy air before the sweet scent of cinnamon and warmth hits, Ava tugging her into the restaurant. They sit in a booth, their dishes coming in minutes, ordered in advance by phone. And for Lily, time passes in a haze.

There’s a quiet rendition of the birthday song performed by Ava before Lily cuts into the cake. Strawberries and cream, the sponge light on her palette as she pairs it with champagne. The plastic crown on Lily’s head comes precariously close to falling as she listens to Ava chatter in dulcet tones. Her nineteenth is intimate, which is an improvement from the cold silence of previous years.

“To Lily!” Ava cheers as she reaches over the table to straighten Lily’s crown. “I wish for you to have the happiest year ahead. And that you finally get a boyfriend.” She pauses, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Do you need recommendations? I’ve vetted a couple.”

Normally, Lily would’ve blanched at such a question and changed the subject, but the bubbly made her sleepy, relaxed even, turning the evening into a dreamlike state. And nothing made sense in dreams.

“I don’t have the same type as you do,” Lily pointed out. A memory of blue eyes flitted before her eyes before she batted it away. “Anyways, I don’t have time to date.” 

Blue eyes, dark hair, a mouth that spouted more hurt than humour.

Ava giggled, the sound soft and golden like the fairy lights strung above their booth. “So mysterious. You always say that—‘I don’t have time to date’—but you must think about someone sometimes.”

Lily tilted her head, her cheek resting against her palm. “Maybe,” she said, voice slow and syrupy. “Sometimes I feel my eyes drawn to someone in a crowd, and the moment I see them, it just settles me. Like, I just need to know they’re physically there. Do you ever get that?”

Ava nodded, then walked across the booth, squeezing into the seat beside Lily. Her gaze was solemn as she stared thoughtfully at the spread before them. “Do you want to know a secret? I think I’ve met someone.”

“Really?” Lily stared at her quizzically above the rim of a glass of champagne. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“Mhm, I only met him a couple of days ago. He’s dreamy—soft, sweet, and predictable.”

“Those aren’t usually your base requirements,” Lily replied, smiling into her fork. “You usually go for trouble, playboy and wild. He must be someone to catch your attention.”

Ava’s voice softened. “Sometimes you just know.”

“Is that so?” Lily took a sip of champagne, savouring the feeling of bubbles on her tongue. “How exactly do you just know ? Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates.”

That earned a playful smack on her arm from Ava. “Oh, shut up, you dead romantic. It’s the notion of meeting someone who shares your passions and understands your differences. You meet someone and you just click . There are no awkward silences, no refractory period as you fight to find a common topic of interest. It just feels right.”

This earned a sleepy smile from Lily, one that reached her eyes but rewarded only a twitch of her lips. “You’re awfully philosophical for an art major.”

“Alcohol enhances all my hidden talents.” Ava winked. “Speaking of hidden talents… you, my friend, are glowing tonight.”

Lily laughed, low and quiet. “That’s your glitter.”

“Nope,” Ava said, resting her chin in her hands, gaze fond. “That’s you.”

And for a moment, Lily let herself believe it—that she was something bright. Something worth celebrating.

Chapter Text

She’s a lady, and I am just a boy. —Line Without a Hook

Lily frowned as she observed her appearance in Ava’s mirror. She had taken to sleeping over at Ava’s dorm since the administrator still hadn’t gotten back to her about her updated accommodations. Her face seemed to have settled into a permanent state of exhaustion, the skin around her eyes drawn and pale. Insomnia plagued her nights, rousing her every hour into a fog of confusion. Falling asleep was easy; staying asleep was the real battle.

Hence, the coffee in her hands as she trudged through the snow to the café where William had said to meet to discuss their project. They still didn’t have each other’s numbers, he’d had one of their mutual classmates pass on the message. Ironically, he seemed to be avoiding her, skipping classes, sitting far, far away on the off chance he did attend. And she tried to pretend the palpitations in her chest were from the caffeine and not excitement.

William was late. It was ten past twelve, and Lily was ready to leave when he finally showed up. He’d made enough of an effort to look refreshed, but not so much that he was unrecognisable. Trading in his dress shirts for a sweater and trousers for jeans, he almost blended into the crowd of students milling around the entrance. Almost.

Lily’s throat went dry.

“Sorry about being late.” He seemed awkward, nervous even, as he stood opposite her, staring at the chair like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to sit. “I’m getting something to eat, do you want anything?”

“I thought we were just here to discuss work—”

“Think of it as an apology for me being late,” he cut her off, his words careless. “It seems I have much to apologise for.”

They stood awkwardly beside each other as they waited in line. William’s attention was oddly fixated on the menu above their heads, and Lily wished she were anywhere else.

“An espresso, hot, and a full English,” he shot off in rapid fire as the barista scowled. 

“I’ll just have an Earl Grey and a cheese toastie, please.”

William stared at her as she rattled off her order, her hands sweaty at their proximity.

“Anything else, darling?”

William slowly averted his eyes back to the barista as he pulled out his wallet. “Add on two Chelsea buns.”

The food came fast, warm and filling on the palate as Lily slowly chewed on her sandwich, looking everywhere but the man opposite her. William had no similar qualms as he finished his full English rapidly, moving onto dessert, which he ate in careful, measured bites.

“So,” Lily tried to break the silence, clearing her throat awkwardly. “About the project—”

William wiped his mouth with a napkin, buying himself a few seconds. “Right. The project.” He said it like he’d only just remembered why they were here at all. “What do you know about biological warfare?”

Lily eyed him cautiously. “I know that they’re more trouble than they’re worth. That they’re uncontrollable, often causing thousands of casualties. I know that the experimentation using agents of biological warfare is horrifying. Take anthrax as an example, it can be ingested, inhaled, or injected. The mortality rate for inhalation anthrax is above 80%. So what exactly are you leading on?”

“I’ve been thinking about the possibility of weaponising viruses. An incurable one.”

“There are incurable viruses—”

“No,” William cut her off gently, shaking his head. “I’m not talking about viruses like HIV. There are preventions for HIV, like post-exposure prophylaxis, or stem-cell treatments. But what if someone creates one that evolves faster than treatments can keep up? That mutates into various drug-resistant strains faster than we can keep count?”

“If that were reality, humanity would be doomed,” Lily reminded him. 

He shifted, a small smile breaking across his face. He craved this, Lily realised. The verbal sparring with someone who had an equal amount of knowledge as he did.

“But it is fascinating,” she continued, matching his smile with one of her own. This, she could do. Academia, professionalism, and research. “How nature could produce something so perfect and lethal. And how utterly powerless we would be. What do you propose we do?”

“I was thinking that we could hypothesise the natural evolution of an incurable virus, then we outline how someone, with the right resources and the wrong intentions, could accelerate the process.”

Lily nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of her tea. “You want us to write a manual for the creation of a mutant virus. You do realise if anyone actually reads this, we might end up flagged by the MI5.”

“My brother is practically the British government,” William replied with a shrug of his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Hardly.”

“Practically.” He paused, his eyes flitting over her face as the smile on his face widened. “You don’t like him. Oh, this is wonderful. He’s usually the poster child of charisma and charm. Most women fall at his feet.”

“I never said that,” Lily snapped back, her expression tight as she tried to conceal her smile.

“Defensive, clipped words, a flash of disdain.” William pointed out the various parts of her body as he observed her. “Body language says everything.”

“I can see why people hate you,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “You’re painfully oblivious to social cues.”

“No, but really, why do you dislike my brother?”

She sighed, tightening her grip around her cup. “He just seemed fake. His politeness felt like a facade, and his control felt overbearing. Maybe I just caught him at a bad time, you were ill after all. It’s natural for his attention to be preoccupied otherwise.”

“Mycroft does that often,” William nodded in agreement. “He’s a control freak.”

“Alright, back to the project,” Lily quickly directed the topic to less private matters. She wasn’t sure she could have another heart-to-heart conversation with him without it escalating to a full-blown argument. “I think we should pick a virus already halfway there. Something that mutates rapidly. Influenza, maybe. Then we engineer the perfect conditions for mutation—dense populations, weak healthcare infrastructure, and environmental stressors.”

“And we outline how to bypass any treatments or vaccines,” he continued. “Perhaps we could run a simulation. Not in our three weeks of course. Maybe this could become a long-term project. We could design the perfect evolutionary trap.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Darwin.” Lily smiled at the enthusiasm shining in his eyes. “We’ll probably end up either horrifying the professor or failing the class. Probably both.”

“Worth it though,” William smiled, sliding the last Chelsea bun across the table to her. “Eat. You need energy for the brainpower this requires.”

“There he is,” Ava whispered in a low voice, pointing to the figure in the corner of the library. 

Lily squinted, trying to make out the person Ava was pointing at. There was something vaguely familiar about his silhouette, the way he seemed absorbed into his work, and the piles of books around him. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Ava in disbelief, nearly knocking over her water bottle. “You like Colton Reeves? The same person I’ve been competing with for top in the year for medicine?”

“He’s pursuing a degree in medicine?” Ava whisper-yelled. “Well, that’s fantastic news to hear. You can introduce the two of us.”

“Absolutely not. I barely know him.”

Ava tugged insistently on Lily’s sleeve, eyes glittering playfully. “Oh, come on, Lily. You’ve exchanged glares over exam scores—that’s practically flirting in academic language.”

Lily gave her a flat look. “Are you interested in him or just trying to set the two of us up?”

“Well, you’re infatuated with William Holmes, so I don’t think I have much to fear.”

Lily choked on air as her eyes widened. “You’re delusional. I am not infatuated with him, I can barely stand him. I can’t imagine where you got that idea from.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Ava waved her hand, a mischievous glint in her eye. “How about this—if you go over and introduce me to Colton, I’ll drop the subject. Otherwise, I’ll announce your crush to the entire library. William Homes is quite popular amongst the ladies, I’m sure it’ll cause much uproar.”

Lily pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is an actual nightmare.”

“Please, Lily. I’ll owe you one. Just walk by him. Accidentally drop a book or brush his shoulder or something . It’s classic.”

“No way.”

“I’ll get you that ludicrously expensive oncology textbook you’ve been eyeing.”

“No.”

“I’ll let you sleep on the bed for the next week. Month. Alone .”

Lily hesitated. 

“And,” Ava added, “I’ll buy you that disgusting mint chocolate ice cream you gorge on every time you’re stressed. You’ll need it, especially since you’ll meet Holmes more often.”

“I’m absolutely vibrating with excitement,” Lily deadpanned. With a long-suffering sigh, she glanced over her shoulder at Colton Reeves. Of course , he was studying, because what else did medical students have time for? He was probably finished with that godawful pathology paper, possibly reading the next few chapters in advance. “How did you manage to talk me into this?”

Ava grinned triumphantly as she nudged Lily in the direction of the table. “Do me a favour, Lily. Just walk over and ask about the Krebs cycle or something equally benign. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to oblige—the academic ones always are. Just don’t forget to accidentally mention that you have a charming, single, beautiful friend waiting in the corner.”

“Did you mention desperate?” Lily muttered, rubbing her temples. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Love you too, now go. ”

Lily approached cautiously, schooling her expression into one of nonchalance. Each step felt like one to the guillotine; she would rather die than ask Colton about something as vapid as the Krebs cycle. He would probably think of her as a dunce. 

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat in a way that felt too intentional to be casual.

Colton looked up. To be fair, she could see his appeal. With his warm brown eyes and dimples, shaggy brown hair and easygoing demeanour, Colton Reeves radiated kindness, drawing people to him like a beacon. It was a pity he’d made it his mission to compete against her in every class—she could’ve seen them being friends. Looking into the chocolate brown eyes that waited for her to speak, Lily couldn’t help but feel partial to blue.

“Reeves,” she greeted evenly. “Building a shrine?” She jerked her head towards the piles of textbooks scattered around him.

“Only in hopes of one day besting you,” Colton replied smoothly. “I’m surprised to see you out and about, Edlin. Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere, burrowing your head into textbooks?”

“How charming.”

“I aspire to be,” he replied, giving her a warm smile. Lily couldn’t help but notice that he gave away smiles like they meant nothing. “I’d like your opinion on this question.”

A 65-year-old man presents to A&E with an acute onset of chest pain radiating to his left arm, shortness of breath, and diaphoresis. An ECG shows ST-segment elevation in leads II, III, and aVF. His troponin levels are significantly elevated. What is the most likely diagnosis?

She skimmed through the question quickly, taking the seat beside Colton when he pulled out the chair. “So…we know that he has chest pain, shortness of breath, and diaphoresis. I’d probably diagnose him with inferior STEMI based on the ECG results. He probably has an occluded right coronary artery.”

“And what treatment would you administer?”

“Antiplatelet therapy to start,” Lily tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully. “Aspirin with a loading dose of 300 mg and a P2Y12 inhibitor like clopidogrel. Then, pain management and nitrates, if not hypotensive. And a primary percutaneous coronary intervention within the first 120 minutes.”

“ Fuck ,” Colton laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Here you are, proving why you’re top of the class once more.”

Lily ignored the heat in her cheeks that ignited with his compliment. “It was a simple question, you’d be able to do it easily with a refresher.”

“Maybe.” He tilted his head, studying her. “As invigorating as this conversation has been, I doubt you’re here for small talk. Did you need something?”

There it was . Lily cleared her throat nervously, hoping she wouldn’t mess up Ava’s crush. “My friend wanted me to introduce her to you. Ava, from the School of Arts and Humanities? She should be around here somewhere—”

Her voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of sharp blue eyes, unmistakable even from across the room.

William.

Chapter Text

Ever since the day we locked in, I was gonna be a down bitch. —Start a War

William.

His presence was enough to make Lily’s voice falter, her attention drawn to the tall silhouette across the room, just behind Colton’s shoulder. From their distance, she couldn’t make out his expression, yet his body radiated tension, his hands in the pockets of his long coat as he watched them. An unnatural stillness hung about him, a contrast to the bustling vividity of the students around him.

She stiffened as he started walking across the room towards them.

He was mad. And Lily wondered why she could read him so well.

“Is something wrong?” Colton asked, following her train of sight.

“Nothing,” Lily replied quickly, trying to draw his attention back to her. “Just someone I know.”

But it was too late, William stopping between their seats, a heaviness in his gaze and an empty smile on his face that she didn’t want to dissect.

“How cosy. Is this a little academic meeting?” William said smoothly, his words directed at Colton, although his eyes remained locked on her. Peering across her shoulder, he skimmed the question on the table. “Shortness of breath, chest pain, elevated levels of troponin; he has inferior STEMI.” He smirked, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Lily, if you needed help, you could’ve asked me.”

“You?” She replied instinctively, the sarcastic edge cutting into William in a way she didn’t overlook. “Why would I ask you? You aren’t even a medical student.”

Colton’s brows furrowed. “And you are? You look familiar; surely this isn’t the friend you mentioned, Lily.”

The joke failed to land as Lily grimaced, shaking her head rapidly. “No, of course not—,” she started at the same time William held out his hand. “William Holmes,” he introduced himself. “I’m a chemistry major, but I share some courses with both of you. I’m Lily’s friend.”

“No, you’re not.”

William’s attention snapped back to her, a self-depreciating expression on his face. “No? Classmate then. Acquaintance maybe. Or are you so unwilling to be associated with me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then pray, tell me, what exactly do you mean?”

“God,” Lily pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the familiar rise of irritation that came with his presence. “You’re impossible.”

“Me?” William laughed bitterly, his hand landing on the back of her chair. “Have you seen yourself? You certainly move on fast.”

“What the fuck would I be moving on from?”

Colton coughed awkwardly, but Lily ignored him, her attention focused on the way William looked down at her like she was at fault. Like she’d betrayed him somehow.

“For god’s sake,” William snapped, turning away from her chair, as if trying to extricate himself from her proximity. “How much blinder can you get?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Hey, William,” Ava interjected with false cheerfulness as she tucked herself into the seat beside Lily. She’d seemingly materialised out of thin air; Lily had been so focused on William, she hadn’t heard her walking over. “I see you still haven’t resolved your differences.”

William didn’t even deign to acknowledge her greeting as he ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze still stubbornly fixated on Lily. Wonderful, Lily scoffed internally. He was back to his usual pissy self.

“She was the friend I wanted to introduce you to,” Lily explained to Colton glumly as she elbowed Ava in his direction. “She’s besotted with you.”

Colton laughed awkwardly, clearly thrown by the tension still hanging in the air. “It’s lovely to meet you again. Though preferably under different circumstances.”

Ava’s cheeks flushed under his attention, her demeanour softening imperceptibly as she extended her hand. “At least they’re giving us something to talk about. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last time. I’m Ava Barclay.”

Colton grinned, shaking her hand, his charm cranked to full force. “Colton Reeves. But I’m sure you knew that already.”

Ignoring Ava’s jab in her direction, Lily focused on the implicit meaning between their introductions. “You two know each other?”

“I forgot my wallet when I went to the café last week. He paid for my coffee.”

“Believe me, knowing that you’re an art major explains so much,” Colton teased, a glint in his eyes. “She had this streak of paint across her cheek that she’d been walking around with, completely oblivious.”

Lily tried to breathe, enviously watching their easy interaction. Their warm banter reminded her of William’s presence behind her, the weight of his gaze heavy between her shoulder blades. That was a normal relationship, Lily reminded herself, not whatever she shared with William.

She took a deep breath as she turned to face him.

“ They certainly have more chemistry,” William observed, his tone dry. “Watching you and Reeves interact was like watching paint dry. You can’t flirt to save your life.”

“And you can? Plus, who said anything about flirting? I was just talking to him!”

“You blushed!” He countered, his voice rising. “You never even smile at me, goddammit!”

Lily blinked in astonishment. “This is what you’re getting worked up over?”

Her surprise faded into anger as she stood up at his silence. 

“Just because your psychology textbooks list blushing as a sign of physical attraction does not mean you should take it by the book,” she hissed, unable to keep the venom from seeping into her words. “Believe it or not, I can hold a perfectly civil conversation with other people. You, on the other hand, are the exception because your entire goal in life is to push my buttons!”

His voice was lower now, deadly serious as he met his eyes. “Look who’s talking. I’m trying, Lily. I am. But every time I think I get close, you shut me out. You always run away when it gets real.”

“Don’t make this into my problem.”

“Lily—”

“No,” she snapped. “Has it ever occurred to you that the only time you’re real with me is when you’re either high or in the middle of a tantrum? You don’t get to look at me like this, William. Like I’ve betrayed some unspoken pact I’ve no idea of.”

“Well, at least you’ve made one thing clear,” he muttered, his jaw tight. “We aren’t friends. I get it. Message received.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I think we’re interrupting,” Colton cut in, offering Ava a nervous smile. “Do you want to grab a coffee or something?”

“At nine in the evening?” Lily snapped instinctively. She recoiled as she met Ava’s eyes, at the undeniable hurt in the blue. Vulnerability turned her vicious, she realised, twisting something evil out of her depths. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Ava comforted instinctively, squeezing her hand as she stood to leave. “We’ll talk later.”

Lily’s eyes flickered to where William stood, his eyes locked somewhere behind her shoulder. “Maybe I should go too.”

“No.” William’s hand clasped around her wrist, a physical restraint keeping her from moving. Lily felt like she was drowning. “I’m not letting you do this again.”

Her voice wavered. “Let go, William.”

He didn’t. “Stop running away from me. Please.”

She stared at his fingers wrapped around her wrist, shackling her. He was a sinking ship, desperate to bring her down with him. And she hated how she had grown tired of resisting. She hated how he was slowly breaking through her barriers. Hated how he always targeted the part of her that couldn’t say no.

“I did have a reason for seeking you out today.” His tone was careful, measured, as if he was terrified she’d bolt if he spoke too fast. Skittish, like an animal. “Let me treat you. Drinks, yes?”

Lily eyed him warily.

“You better have a good reason this time.”

William offered her a weak smile, his fingers letting go to settle at the small of her back.

“Let’s go.”

Lily expected him to bring her to a café, a restaurant, or even a pub. Instead, he led into a bar, the room mostly silent apart from the hushed notes of intimate conversations and the soft lilt of a live piano. Dim lighting spilt across mahogany tables, the light colouring golden as he led her to a booth, nodding to the waiter as if he brought girls here every day of the week.

He flagged the bartender with two fingers. “What do you want?” he asked her, as if he were asking for a coffee order. As if this was something they did on a normal basis.

“Wine is fine.”

He gave the order without comment, choosing a vintage red for her and opting for a whiskey himself. When asked for her ID, she didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered, committing the information to memory. Instead, she pretended to ignore the way he was careful not to let their fingers brush as he slid her drink over. A sign of how badly he didn’t want to mess up. As if one wrong move would send her running.

Lily took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the acidic tang the wine left behind. She still couldn’t understand the hype around alcohol. “Do you bring girls here often?”

“Why, are you jealous?” Upon noticing the teasing tone in her voice, he shook his head, a faint smile on his lips as he took a sip of his poison. “Just you, Lily.”

She didn’t miss that his body visibly relaxed the moment they’d left the confines of the library. “Are you that happy to get me away from Colton? I’m not—he’s not a friend, William.”

“You don’t classify me as a friend either. I’m concerned about what you do with your so-called ‘not friends’. Do you allow him to kiss you as well? Save him from any drug-induced hazes? Risk your neck one too many times?” He stared at her for a long moment, his fingers flexing as he clenched and unclenched them. “Your birthday was two weeks ago. You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

“My birthday is in January. January 6th.”

Lily nodded, unsure what to do with the sudden information he offered. “Oh, you’re younger than me, then.”

“I’m a year older. I was held back a grade in secondary. Couldn’t pass astronomy.” There was a softness in his gaze as he sipped on his whiskey. The atmosphere—the alcohol—it all felt reminiscent of their first kiss, adrenaline-sodden and bitter with cigarettes. “I still don’t get the fuss about the solar system.”

She managed a small smile as hope flared in his eyes. Something twisted in her chest as she sipped on her wine, weighing her next words carefully. “Well, you got me here, so the stars aligned for you tonight.”

William leaned forward, his eyes intense, watching her like she was a particularly complicated formula he hadn’t quite solved yet. “You looked happier earlier. With him.”

“I was being polite.”

“You never bother being polite around me. Should I be touched?”

“Why does that bother you?”

He didn’t reply immediately, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. Condensation pooled onto the table, reflecting the glittering gold of the ceiling above him. In the darkness, his features were softened, his lips curved into a barely-there smile that made him more approachable. Lily wondered what she looked like in his eyes.

“My brother says that caring isn’t an advantage.”

“For once, I’m obliged to agree.”

“He says it clouds judgment. That once you start to care, you become predictable. Weak.” William let out a slow breath, his hand still resting on the glass. “I would have died if you hadn’t cared. Perhaps that would have been my end—frothing in my mouth as I bit my tongue off in a drug den. But I’m here. And for that I’m thankful.”

“Lily—” he cut himself off, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I’m shit at this, aren’t I? What I want to say is that I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to keep running away.”

There was a long moment of silence as the piano in the corner shifted to a slower, sadder tune. Lily’s wine glass was half-full, but she didn’t feel like drinking anymore. She pressed a fingertip to the base of the glass, watching it wobble, delicate and precarious.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally. “Whatever this is between us. We’re not—we’re not normal, William.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” he echoed softly. “You’re right, we can’t pretend to be something we aren’t. I’m not charming, or kind, and you—you aren’t uncaring. You don’t want me to lie to you, I can understand that, and I think it’s only fair that I hold you to the same expectations.”

Lily managed a wobbly half-smile. “That’s fair.” She looked up then, the candlelight catching on the gold flecks in her eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you earlier,” he said, voice rough with something unspoken. “I was just—”

“Jealous.”

He huffed a small laugh. “No point denying it now, is there?”

“No,” she agreed, reaching for her glass again. “But if it makes you feel better, I’m not interested in Colton. I wasn’t lying, I was just trying to introduce him and Ava.”

“They suit each other.”

“So you keep saying,” Lily murmured. They sat in silence again, the weight of the moment settling like dust around them. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t suffocating either. After a moment, she reached for his whiskey glass and took a small sip, wincing. “Christ, that’s vile.”

William laughed at her contorted expression, taking his glass back and downing the rest of the liquid. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Like you then.”

“Exactly.”

Lily reached for her wine again, but didn’t drink. She turned the glass slowly between her fingers, staring at the rippling surface like it held an answer. The moment was fragile. Breakable.

William’s voice cut through it, low and almost conversational. “You cashed it.”

She stilled.

“What?”

“The cheque,” he clarified, not looking at her. “The one Mycroft gave you. You used it.”

“I did,” Lily confirmed, the admission brittle. “I needed a new place to stay, and my scholarship wouldn’t cover it.” She exhaled, leaning back into the booth. “Do you think less of me for it?”

His head snapped up, meeting her eyes. “No. Why would I? If anything, I think less of him .” Tension stretched through the silence before he continued. “Mycroft was surprised you even used the cheque. That’s why he brought it up. From the way you acted when he gave you the cheque, he thought you’d have ripped it to shreds my now.”

“If only I had that privilege,” Lily scoffed.

William’s jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have to take his money.”

“Would you prefer I take yours?”

“Yes.”

Lily stared at him, stunned into silence. The word sat between them, echoing louder in its simplicity than any of the arguments they’d thrown at each other.

“Yes?” she repeated quietly, disbelieving.

William didn’t flinch. “If it meant you wouldn’t have to take it from him.”

“The money is probably all coming from the same source anyways.”

He wrinkled his nose, his expression teasing. “I have my own sources of income. The point is, you don’t need to feel like you owe my brother anything. I’ll pay him back for the cheque.”

“I don’t need your money,” she snapped back instinctively.

“It’s a loan. You don’t owe me anything either, Lily.”

She looked up at him, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice.

“Have you found a new place to live?” He continued. “This year’s winter is particularly harsh. It’ll be difficult to find a place so close to Christmas.”

Lily eyed him suspiciously. “I have a feeling you know that I haven’t. And that you’re leading me into a trap.”

He smirked, running his finger along the rim of his glass. He didn’t deny it either, smiling in his all-knowing way. “I have an extra room in my apartment. Fully furnished. You can stay there for now.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “That’s a terrible idea.”

William shrugged, unbothered. “Probably.”

“You think I’m just going to pack up and move in with you?”

“No,” he said. “I think you’re going to tell me all the reasons you shouldn’t, and then do it anyway because it makes the most sense.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re freezing at night.”

That shut her up. Lily’s expression flickered as she took a large gulp of her wine. If she was getting through this night, she had a feeling she’d need to be deathly drunk.

“I don’t want your charity.”

“It’s not charity,” he said evenly. “It’s practicality. You need somewhere to stay. I have a place. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

She raised an eyebrow at his words, disbelieving. “Are you telling yourself that?” Seeing the casual raise of his brow, she eventually sighed. “I’m not going to play house with you, William. I’m not spending evenings with you and pretending something we’re not.”

“Wouldn’t ask you to.”

“And I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

“You’ll be in the guest room. Unless you change your mind.”

She levelled him a look that could have frozen fire.

“Joking,” he added quickly, though the grin pulling at his lips said otherwise. “Mostly.”

Lily let out a breath, frustrated and faintly amused despite herself. “This is a terrible idea.”

“You already said that.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.” He leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling. “Well then, this settles it. I’ll be at your dorm tomorrow afternoon. You better have packed by then.”

“I have class,” she lied.

“No, you don’t.”

“Did you memorise my schedule?” At the infuriating smile on his face, she simply groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re unbelievable. Why did I even agree to this?”

“I can be extremely convincing.”

She shook her head, but this time her smile reached her eyes. A little sad, a little tired, but real. “You really want to do this? Be some sort of unorthodox flatmate?”

“Flatmate, saviour, occasional emotional punching bag—I’m flexible.”

Lily snorted, downing the rest of her wine. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Only moderately.”

“Come over at eleven,” she said finally. “And bring some boxes. I don’t have many things, but still, it’ll take up space.”

William grinned, looking incredibly young in the limelight. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

Disappointed people, clinging onto bottles

A chemical reaction; hysterical and useless —Let Down

William’s flat was an elegant brownstone, a ten-minute walk away from the university. Lily didn’t bring much—she’d managed to pack her belongings into two measly boxes—yet he insisted on ordering a cab for them, tipping the driver generously before he carried her boxes up the stairs.

“Here we are,” William mumbled, juggling the boxes and his keys before finally opening the door.

The flat was bathed in light, a lit fireplace crackling in front of the sofa, scenting the flat with applewood and old books. Papers and books covered every flat surface, empty mugs and cold teabags littering the tables. Lily stepped over the threshold, smiling at William’s sheepish expression.

“I haven’t cleaned,” he explained hastily. “It isn’t so chaotic normally.”

High ceilings, wide windows, wooden floors. Dark furniture and varied textiles, a leather wingback chair catching her eye, the warm brown contrasted by the snowy courtyard beyond. Beside it were walls of floor-to-ceiling shelves groaning from the weight of the books they supported. Some were annotated, dog-eared pages yellow with age, crammed into the shelves at every possible angle.

“What psychopath writes in their books?” Lily chastised as she picked up the nearest book, wincing at his scribbles in the margins.

“The psychopath sharing his flat with you,” he shot back, slightly breathless as he placed her boxes down by the door. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

His tour consisted of her hiding a smile at the Bunsen burner he had been using in lieu of the stove to boil water, him narrowly avoiding knocking down a beaker containing unlabelled chemicals, and her last straw—his shower crammed with numerous body care brands—where she’d burst out in laughter.

“It’s not that funny.”

“No, it’s hilarious,” she gasped out through her laughter. “I thought men used three-in-one shampoos and deodorant, if we were lucky. What do you even need five different conditioners for?”

“If I knew all it took to make you laugh was my flat, I would’ve brought you here earlier,” William deadpanned, fond exasperation colouring his tone. “Come on, your room is down the hallway.”

Her room was larger than she’d expected, airy with tall windows and light furniture. Instead of the navy that papered the other rooms, the walls were light blue. Bookshelves lined one wall, and the bed was neatly made with dove grey sheets and a white blanket folded at the end. There was a vase of yellow lilies on the desk in the corner, the buds barely opened in their infancy.

“Lilies?”

“I took liberties,” he explained. “Ava said you like white lilies, but the shop was out of them. Anyway, I always thought white lilies were for the dead,” he said, wincing slightly.

“You didn’t have to,” she said, fingers grazing the delicate petals. The room felt too intimate, William’s efforts permeating every corner. He had made an effort, and she didn’t know how to reciprocate. “This. All of this.”

“I know.”

William hovered nervously near the doorway, as if he were unsure where they would proceed from here. Their relationship, because she still refused to consider them friends, had progressed in leaps and bounds in the past few days. And the truth was that Lily was clueless as well.

“Why does this room look so different from the others? I can’t imagine you furnishing this room.”

“It’s for my mother when she visits,” he murmured, tracing the intricate engravings on the dresser. It must’ve been a nightmare to clean, yet the room was spotless and sterile. “But my parents decided to move to Brighton, and she considers the journey too long and tedious.” There’s laughter in his voice as he talks about his mother. “I’ll be heading there to visit her this Christmas. I leave next week. You’re free to stay here as long as you’d like.”

Lily nods, taking a seat on the bed. “That’d be wonderful. I’ll be staying in Cambridge throughout the Christmas holidays anyway.”

“You’re not going home?”

“There isn’t much to visit.”

William fixed her with a knowing glance. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said, giving him a small smile. “My mother died when I was a child. And my father is likely preoccupied with his new family. My absence will go unnoticed.”

He hesitated before taking a seat on the bed beside her, the mattress sinking slightly from his weight, tilting her towards him. “At the very least, you’re lucky to miss the annual holiday migraine,” he joked. “Six weeks with my brother is akin to psychological torture.”

That earned a faint twitch of her lips. “Insensitive. And a terrible host. You didn’t even offer me tea.”

“Oh, sorry.” He stood, holding out his hand to help her up. “Do you fancy it with a side of sulfuric acid? I’m afraid I’m out of milk.”

“Prat,” Lily laughed, accepting his outstretched hand. As she followed him into the hallway, the scent of lilies trailing behind her, she felt unsure whether the ache in her chest was comfort or something dangerously close to it.

There’s a scent to Christmas.

It’s fir and pine, cinnamon and nutmeg. It’s waking up to a snowy courtyard, socked feet slipping against hardwood floors in their haste to get downstairs. It’s William’s childhood, an activity encouraged by his parents and one Lily’s life was never involved in.

She’s nodding off, swaddled in her cocoon of blankets and pillows by the fireplace, when the telephone rings. The digital clock reflects the time at her, eleven fifty in the evening, far too late for a social call. She perks at the thought of Ava, then quickly deflates—Ava was in the Maldives, the holiday long past for her. Yet the ringing goes on, sharp and insistent, and a flicker of unease prickles at the edge of her sleep-addled mind.

Lily curses under her breath as she scans the room, searching for the telephone. William had been gone for weeks, off to sunny Brighton. Although she’s unsure whether the warm weather will still hold up through December. She imagines the scent of sunscreen and salt as she pads through the flat, trying door after door. Trust William to forget to tell her where something as important as a phone was. 

In the end, she finds it in William’s study, tucked across her room behind a door she never bothered to explore.

“Hello?”

The line crackles, faint notes of Christmas carols trickling through before a familiar voice speaks. “Hey.” His voice is warm and mellow, slightly slurred from what she imagines is mulled wine. “You’re just on time. Very prompt of you.”

“William?” Her grip on the receiver tightens, pressing it closer to her ear. “Are you drunk?”

A soft chuckle hums through the line. “Just a little. It’s been a lonely Christmas.” There’s a pause, the creaking of a door, then the gentle murmur of waves, seagulls in the distance. “Across from my desk, there’s a clock. Do you see it?”

Her eyes flick towards said clock. “I see it.”

The second hand ticks steadily towards midnight as she holds her breath. 

At twelve sharp, he speaks, his smile carrying across their distance. “Merry Christmas, Lily.”

“Merry Christmas, William,” she replied softly, a faint smile flitting across her face. “And may there be many more to come.”

“Are you going to hog my guest room until next year?”

“Are you kicking me out?” 

Laughter seemed to spill out of him easily tonight, the sound easy on her ears as she settled into his armchair. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. The room is yours as long as you’ll have it.” A pause. Then, “I have a gift for you. It’s in your room, under your bed.”

Lily glanced towards the hallway, a faint crease beneath her brow. “Under the bed?” she repeated. “I cleaned my room just last week, I would’ve noticed.”

William snorted softly. “Would you believe me if I said I bribed Ava to place it under your bed before she left? It should be there—in plain sight.”

“I can’t believe you dragged her into this.” 

The receiver balanced precariously between her shoulder and ear as she padded back to her room. The flat felt endlessly cold and cavernous without another person’s presence, even if it was only the clinking of glassware that broke the silence. Kneeling by the bed, she lifted the edge of the blanket and peered beneath. A box sat in the gloom, emerald paper set against the silver ribbon. 

“Found it?” William’s voice in her ear again, soft and slow. 

She hummed her acknowledgement as she sat back, pulling away the ribbon. Inside the box lay a neatly folded grey coat—soft to the touch, thick wool lined with satin. She ran her fingers over the fabric, her brows knitting faintly as she took it out and held it up. It was simple, elegant, and undeniably expensive.

“You got me a coat?” She traced the stitching along the collar, thumb catching on the small embroidered initials sewn just beneath the inner lining. L.E. Small. Subtle. Invisible to anyone but her. “William, you got me an embroidered coat?” Her voice was tight with disbelief as she set the coat down, turning her attention back to the telephone. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“There’s still time.” Lily could imagine the devil-may-care smile on his face as he spoke. “I’d prefer not to catch a nasty cold from you if you keep trotting around the campus in those threadbare jackets of yours.”

“I don’t trot!”

The soft sound of his laughter tugged at her heartstrings as she slowly smoothed her fingers across the coat. “You’re so dead once you come back to Cambridge,” she promised, lowering her voice to deliver the threat.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the clock on the desk ticking steadily towards Christmas morning, the sea sighing faintly on the other end of the line.

“Sleep, Lily,” he said at last, gentle, the barest smile in his tone. “I promise to return bearing gifts.”

“Don’t forget,” she warned.

“I won’t.”

There’s excitement—unbidden, unwanted—unfurling in her chest as she slips into a yellow dress. Makeup flawless, hair curled and glossy; if Lily Edlin is anything, it’s a fast learner. And somehow, in William’s mirror, her reflection looks kinder—cheeks flushed despite the cold, a glimmer in her eye as Ava totters past in her new heels.

The streets are thick with bodies, the club swollen with sweat and motion as Ava slips them in with a wad of cash and a thousand-watt smile. The air thrums with music and the easy lie of a new year, promises flung like confetti, anticipation curdling with alcohol into something heady and reckless. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t drunk on the feeling already, even before Colton presses a drink into her hand and a kiss to Ava’s cheek.

Wine on her tongue and whiskey in her blood as she lets go of inhibitions for once, relenting when Ava drags her onto the dance floor, crimson spilling onto the floor in an arc when she’s jostled. Gravity pulls her under until an arm slips around her waist, steady and warm as he rights her.

“Hey.” William grins at her. Distance makes the heart fonder, and it must be true because she blinks once, twice, and he’s still there—physical, solid—not a figment of her imagination. “Is this becoming a habit? You falling for me?”

“I thought you were in Brighton,” is all she manages to splutter out as he leads her out into the quiet night, his coat heavy around her shoulders. “Why are you here?”

He shrugs, the motion careless, boyish despite the calculation glinting in his eyes. 

“Brighton was boring,” he says simply. “And I promised you a gift. What better time than New Year’s?”

Their breaths mist the air in twin plumes of smoke as they stand in the alley, the bass of the club muffled against concrete and clay. Lily’s brought back to another night months ago, when there was bark against her back and his warmth against her front. A shiver trails down her spine, and she longs for the cold condensation of her glass.

“How did you even find me?”

“Ava.” He smiles at the exasperation on her face. “She seems to be our number one supporter. I don’t know about you, but I certainly feel inspired by Colton and her escapades.”

“Don’t let her encourage you,” Lily grumbles. His eyes glint silver steel under the streetlights, molten as she inches closer. “I was promised a gift.”

“Greedy. And impatient.”

He steps closer. Too close. His knuckles brush her cheek, fleeting, before they fall back to his side. Her breath sticks in her throat as Ava's voice rings from the club entrance, shrill and bright and pulling her back.

“Lily? Where are you? Is William with you? We’re doing shots for the New Year’s countdown.”

His hand slips into hers, fingers intertwining as he tilts his head towards the club. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to miss the countdown.”

And so she follows, spluttering on vodka and cringing on lime as he sits alongside, downing each shot with practised ease. The alcohol goes down quickly, the intensity of his stare making her reach for more, the pulsing laughter of the club her cheerleader. It softens the haze of her surroundings, focusing her attention until all she can see is him, golden in the shadows.

“You’re drunk.”

“Perhaps,” she agrees, shifting so she can lean against his shoulder. She both hopes and doesn’t that she’ll forget this by tomorrow. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his lips quirked indulgently as he leans his head against hers. 

She won’t be able to meet his eyes tomorrow, but in her drug-induced haze, she holds his gaze calmly.

The cheers crescendo as the countdown begins. Five. Four.

Lily leans in, breath hitching. Her face is reflected in his eyes—wide, glassy, lit with something she doesn’t want to name. The club dissolves behind them; Ava’s shrieking, Colton’s laughter, the crush of bodies—all falling away until there is only this.

Three. Two.

William watches her without blinking. His hand lifts—slow, careful—and brushes a loose curl from her cheek. His fingers linger, soft against her skin, as if memorising the shape of her.

One.

The room erupts into cheers, noise crashing like a wave, but she only hears the quiet between them—the breath they share, the heartbeat thudding in her throat. 

The silence prods her forward as she presses her lips against his. There’s bitter vodka and cigarettes, the sharp chill of mint on the edge of her senses. This time, she doesn’t make the same mistake. She keeps her eyes open, observing the way his pupils eclipse his iris, the way his lashes flutter in surprise before they close. 

She watches him the entire time, ingraining every moment in her memory.

For a moment, they’re just a normal couple sharing a sweet moment. There’s no William, no Lily, no prejudice and no stubbornness between them. They’re just one of the thousands. And that’s alright.

When they finally break apart, his breath is warm against her mouth.

“Happy New Year, Lily,” he murmurs.

“Happy New Year, William,” she whispers, her voice hoarse in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed your Christmas gift.”

His eyes glint, catching the fractured light as he presses his forehead against hers. “Your gift and mine. It was certainly unforgettable.”

Chapter Text

You’ve been locked in here forever, and you just can’t say goodbye. —Apocalypse

“So…”

“So?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” Ava threatened. In her hand, she waved a teaspoon in a decidedly unthreatening way. “Leave that for William. Who, by the way, is walking around like a kicked puppy? So what did you do to that poor boy?”

“Me?” Lily frowned, raising the teacup to her lips. “I didn’t do anything. If anything, you’re the one leading Colton on. I heard you’re painting nude portraits of other men?”

“It’s art. It’s not my fault that he’s a prude who can’t appreciate the beauty of the human body, which is ironic considering he’s studying how to preserve it. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’re evading my question.”

“What makes you think it’s my problem?”

Ava levelled her with a knowing stare. “I’m not William. I’m not going to fall for your tricks. Hasn’t he been clear enough about his affections? Yet you continue to act blind to it all. And now he’s shut himself in his room like a recluse. So spit it out, whatever you’ve done.”

“I’m not a mind reader. I don’t—I won’t know that he likes me if he doesn’t tell me. I won't assume anything based on his actions. If he truly likes me as much as you say, he needs to tell me himself.”

Lily’s eyes flickered to the crack on the ceiling, arching her neck towards the sky. The conversation felt like an acknowledgement, a damnation, and the thought deepened the downward tip of her lips.

“You know who had the confidence to confess to me?” Without waiting for an answer, she barreled on, anger sparking within for reasons unknown. “Raphael. Oh, he had confidence alright, confessing to me right in front of William.” A depreciating laugh broke free from within. “I thought William was going to kill him right there and then.”

“Love doesn’t have to be verbalised,” Ava argued. “How are you any better? You’re manipulating William into the verbalisation of feelings you also haven’t come to terms with. Humans aren’t pawns. You can’t control their every move.”

“But I can predict them.”

“Can you predict yours?” Ava’s brows furrowed as she reached over to take Lily’s hand in hers. “You walked into this game as a bystander, but can you leave without getting burned? In this game, your emotions are your biggest hindrance.”

“On your birthday, you told me your eyes instinctively sought another’s in a room,” Ava continued, her voice low and soothing. “He’s William, isn’t he? Because for all your internal debates, all the warning signs—”

“I’m aware of my own emotions.” Lily’s words sounded false even to her ears, echoing a mantra long shattered. Her hand trembled as she curled it into a fist, her eyes locked on the tea dregs in her cup. “I didn’t expect it to come to this. I tried to warn him off, I tried to pull away, but there’s something about him.”

“Oh, Lily.” Ava’s hand was warm as she took her hand in hers. “And Raphael? What is he? Collateral damage? Are you truly that cruel?”

Lily’s fingers jerked around her cup.

“End it,” Ava pleaded. “Don’t bring innocents between you and William. Cancel the date.”

Lily’s eyes slid past her friend to the unassuming grey on the coat rack. She wondered what the line was between redemption and damnation—whether she’d tipped the scales and lost her balance. For a moment, her determination flickered. All she could see was William in his armchair, his expression tortured and angry, regretful and dismayed as she got off the phone with Raphael. But she had nothing if not confidence in her game. She was dealt a superior hand; she would use it to her advantage.

She shook her head.

“I can’t,” Lily murmured. “William will come to me eventually, and Raphael…he’s barely even attached.”

“How lowly you see the emotions of those you don’t care about. God, I pray that this Hail Mary will work. Because if it doesn’t—”

“It’ll work. I know William. I know him .”

William was performing to the empty night when Lily finally worked up the courage to return to the flat. The violin held a tinny edge, the melody slow and haunting, composed more for the dead than the living. Still, she felt her gaze drawn towards the tension in his shoulders, the imperceptible tremble of his fingers when she passed him on the way to her room.

The night was far from silent, yet the click of her lock spoke volumes to them both.

Inside, the moon illuminated the grey sheets he’d picked for her, contrasting with the maroon dress that she’d prepared for tonight. She felt ill, the silk cold against her skin, constricting and suffocating. The heels chafed her skin, blood beading against the leather. And when she caught her reflection in the glass, she had never hated herself more.

Games should’ve been fun, yet she couldn’t help the flinch when a note cracked in the living room. The violinist faltered, the press of his bow to the string heavier, turning the sound desperate. He knew she could hear him. He wanted her to hear him. And she respected his wishes as she pressed her ear to their adjoining wall, decrypting the message behind the music.

She wondered whether William knew she understood. He probably did.

He’d stopped playing when she returned to the living room, patent clutch in hand. Like clockwork, his eyes trailed her, the attention heady and intoxicating. Lily rode the high, refusing to meet his gaze as she settled into the seat opposite, rereading Raphael’s last message.

Meet you in thirty. I can’t wait.

The past week had been a cacophony of slammed doors and clinking glass. Their countertop was a graveyard of empty whiskey bottles and ringed marble when he forgot to place the crucible on a plate. And William? He was a ghost, haunting her thoughts and dreams, arms wide open for when she inevitably returned to his orbit.

Not yet, though. Lily wasn’t content to lose just yet.

“Do you play?”

“The violin?”

William gave a wry smile. “It doesn’t have to be the violin. Do you play any instruments?”

“I’m afraid that’s not within my repertoire.”

A beat passed, heavy and heady, before he moved. Instead of taking the adjacent ottoman, he chose to stand, his height casting her into darkness as he handed her the violin. “Take it. I’ll teach you.”

Lily allowed her fingers to barely graze his skin as she took the Stradivarius from his grasp. Immediately, his hands retracted, curling into fists because they both knew he’d reach for her otherwise. He stepped closer, so close she could smell the rosin and oakmoss clinging to him. Everything felt dangerously familiar.

“Hold it up,” William instructed, voice lower now, softer.

“Like this?”

“Higher,” he corrected. His hand ghosted over hers, warm and calloused from the strings. “The neck should rest here,” he guided, his knuckle nudging the hollow between her jaw.

She tilted her head to meet his eyes, their faces barely a hair’s breadth from each other. Mint ghosted her cheek as his stilted exhale, something greedy stirring within his eyes.

“Like this?” she ventured.

“Yes,” he whispered, voice soft. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his mind before reaching for the bow, careful to avoid contact as he placed it in her right hand. Still, his heat seared into her as his fingers wrapped around hers, showing her the grip.

“Loose wrist,” he instructed, voice detached. “Draw it across the string,” he continued, stepping back.

She did, and the sound that emerged was an awkward, discordant squeak. Ugly. Exposed. She winced.

William’s expression didn’t change. “Again,” he urged. “Slower.”

She tried again. This time, the note emerged more clearly, but still fractured at the end.

“You hear that break?” he asked, moving to stand behind her. His hand hovered just above her arm. “You can’t force it. Be gentle with it, Lily.”

She blinked, startled by the gentleness in his voice—the way he said her name like a plea and not a weapon. Before she could answer, her phone rang, loud in the quiet. And when she pulled it out, Raphael’s name flashing on the scene, William pulled away.

“Hello?” Lily cringed at the hoarseness of her voice. 

“Hello?” She tried again.

“Lily?” Raphael’s voice came through muffled, trailing the sound of incoming traffic behind him. “I’m here. I’ll wait in the lobby, alright?”

“Give me a moment, I’m coming down.”

When she hung up, William was still staring at the phone, expression unreadable. His shoulders were so tense she could see the outline of bone beneath his shirt. And tragically, he had positioned himself before the hallway to the door.

“Do you mind?” she forced a smile, motioning to the door. “I have somewhere to be.”

“I do.”

Lily’s smile fell. “Move, William,” she bit out, the words brittle in her mouth.

“And if I don’t?”

For a moment, the air felt thinner, like the walls were pressing in. She could still feel the ghost of his hand on her skin, the rosin clinging to her dress, the tremor he tried to hide in his fingers.

“Then I’ll push past you.” 

His lip curled. “I didn’t take you for a liar, Lily Edlin.”

Then, his gaze dropped to the clutch in her hand, the dress she wore for another man, the bruised skin on her heel where the new shoes had cut too deep. His voice, when it came, was quieter than she expected. “Is he worth it?”

“William,” she warned.

William exhaled slowly and unevenly. His hand trembled as it locked around her wrist, desperation in his grip and regret in his eyes. “You don’t even like him,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Lily didn’t pull away, meeting his gaze even though her pulse hammered loudly in her throat. “I like him well enough.”

“Not as much as you like me.” She swallowed, and a smile slowly crept across his face. “Ah, I was right then.”

“You were guessing?”

“An educated one.”

“And you think you know me well enough for that?”

“I like to think I do.” William’s smile faltered, his arm pulling her infinitely closer. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Lily didn’t say anything. He knew the answer from the thumb against her pulse, each beat replying to the question she couldn’t answer. And she knew he understood from the quiet triumph that shone on his face. She hated him in that moment — hated the way he made honesty feel inevitable.

His free hand took the clutch from her grasp, the artificial light of her phone illuminating his features. “Are you going to tell him yourself, or will I have to?”

“William…”

“Stay,” he said, voice ragged. “Not because I’m asking you to. But because you genuinely want to. Don’t make a decision we’ll both regret.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. When she opened them, he was closer — close enough that she could see the tremor in his lashes, the hollow beneath his eyes carved by sleepless nights.

“Don’t go,” he repeated, voice breaking.

And this time, she didn’t answer.  She didn’t have to.

Because in the hush that followed, Lily let her forehead rest against his — fragile, temporary — and felt the way they both trembled at the contact, like something about to break.  

“I’ll stay.”