Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lord Huron

“I am not the only traveler
Who has not repaid his debt
I've been searching for a trail to follow again
Take me back to the night we met”

September 2012

It happened instantly.

Truthfully, it was felt instantly.

The girl was seated on the floor, wearing a simple navy turtleneck, her long legs wrapped in tight black pants, crossed in front of her. Her slender back rested against the wall in a dimly lit hallway; the only deserted place in the otherwise crowded mansion. The only quiet place in a house overflowing with loud music, drunken laughter, and staggering idiots partying. Hard.

Right there, among empty bottles and the thick vapor of alcohol and sweat, her gaze was fixed on the wall across from her. A high ponytail of dark blue hair framed her sharp features; furrowed brows, defined cheekbones; until she noticed the other woman stumbling at the top of the stairs that led into the same hallway she had sought refuge in.

The second she lifted her head, and their eyes met, blue sky meeting stormy sea, it happened.

A rush of blood to the head. It barely lasted three heartbeats, but it was enough.

Violet knew.

There was no denying it, even though she’d never experienced this before.  Something shifted, and it would NOT shift back.

She was hooked.

It was made for movie screens.

Cliché. Stupid. Completely unreasonable.

But when you know, you know.

She quite literally felt like falling.

Most people would’ve denied it.  Because who knows what the future might bring, right? They would’ve felt it, and immediately reasoned themselves out of it.  Because feelings are just unpredictable.

Because we remain, at the end of the day, the helpless subjects of waves of emotions. They come and go like the tides. Slaves of moon cycles and ticking clocks

Surely it was just the heat of the moment.

We all know emotions are whimsical creatures, and we instinctively protect ourselves. It’s only natural. We’re only humans after all.  But Vi wasn’t most people.  She didn’t lie.  She didn’t hide from anything.  And most importantly, she never lied to herself.

What would be the point?

Just because you feel something doesn’t mean you have to act on it, or talk about it, or even show it. But you can acknowledge it. That’s fine. No one’s going to dig into your brain and discover the pathetically romantic, love-novel-worthy crap that brews in there.

And you can only master what you own up to.

She knew because of the sudden, overwhelming silence.

Because holding her gaze was as easy as breathing… and as unbearable as a deep cut.

Because of the roar of her heartbeat vibrating in her chest, the sudden weakness in her knees, and the aching swell in her chest that didn’t feel like fear; but something far worse.

If her frontal lobe hadn’t been working overtime, inhibiting her every impulse, her body would’ve already surged forward; drawn by scent, by touch, by instinct.

Maybe she would’ve just fallen to her knees, surrendering to the absurdity of it all.

She was seeing so much in these irises that she was invaded by an army of things she couldn’t name.

She didn’t need to.

Those seconds lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

Endlessly.

She could swear an entire eternity was sealed within them, rooting her to the sticky floor, etching a mark that would outlast her own lifetime.

Surely, time had stopped. The world beyond these walls must have collapsed into silence and ash.

Except it hadn’t.

The woman’s gaze slid back to the wall, silent, hands still resting on her knees; probably assuming the stranger would just move along. So calm. So composed.

How could she be, when Vi was having a fucking epiphany; raw, sudden, and pathetic enough to make her hate how much she pitied herself.

It didn’t matter.

There was something about the way that bubble of warmth wrapped itself around the most beautiful person she'd ever seen; something sacred, almost. And it had reached her too, whether the other woman wanted it or not. Now, Vi wasn’t sure she could leave it behind.

The bass from the party still thrummed through the mansion, echoing from two floors down, but Vi barely heard it. The shouting, the laughter, the music…they were all irrelevant noise. She wasn’t here for that. Never had been.

She only realized how deep she’d fallen into it when her fingers began to tremble around the glass in her hand. Rum and Coke. Half-full. Forgotten.

That reaction was unacceptable.

So she sat down. A few steps away, near the top of the stairs. Just outside the orbit of the other girl’s peace. She stretched out one leg, bent the other, propped an arm on her knee. And stared at the wall, too. Right next to her.

The woman still looked utterly unfazed. Like she couldn't be more bored if she tried.

The silence thickened again. Not awkward. Not cold. Just full.

Vi took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She was a paradox made flesh. A hurricane of stillness. Chaos flooding in perfect harmony.
How could something so dizzying, so immense, feel so soothing? How could the tight knot in her throat be the only thing keeping her grounded?

Nothing seemed to exist but the sheer need to answer those damn questions. Two forces crammed into a space too tight not to clash

She used to be loud. Used to be a cocky asshole with a big mouth and a tendency to hit first and talk later. She wasn’t like that anymore. Life has its ways of grinding down the sharp edges.

Vi had accepted it. Or learned to, at least; because what choice did she have?

And maybe silence had grown on her. Comfortable. Safe. Like armor you wear on the inside.

But the thought of never hearing this woman’s voice? Unbearable.

She wasn’t the smartest girl in the world. Never claimed to be. But she’d never felt this dumb.

Fuck it.

Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

 “You hiding?”

Cerulean eyes turned toward her again, one brow rising in silent question; and then, the faintest curve of a smile tugged at her lips.

“I don’t know,” she said, voice soft and lightly accented. “Doesn’t it require someone to be looking for you?”

God.

Her voice was low, gently drawling. Like velvet, sliding right into Vi’s ears. And that accent; fuck. That accent was going to kill her. It twisted in her gut and shot straight to her spine. Her cheeks flushed before she could stop it, and her eyes widened just slightly.

Her vocal cords might as well have been ripped out; words just got stuck somewhere between her throat and her pride.

The gorgeous woman had both brows raised now, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

Get it together, you moron!

“No,” Vi said quickly, gaze dropping as she shook her head. “Only for people to be looking at you.” To her relief, her voice came out steady. Grounded.

“I guess you’re right,” the woman responded in an exhale.

So…not much of a talker either, uh?

“So, who dragged you here?”  She didn’t really care about the answer. She just needed to hear her voice again. Needed more of it.

The woman let out a small laugh. Vi nearly groaned.  

This had to stop. Please; don’t ever stop.

“Actually, a friend of mine is part of this fraternity,” she said. “And another friend was desperate to come, but wouldn’t show up alone. So…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing just a little.

“Oh God. That sounds like a terrible line from a teen drama, doesn’t it?” she added, a little snort escaping her.

It was Vi’s turn to laugh.

“Well, guess this happens in real life too,” she said, still grinning. “Why didn’t you want to come?”

She wasn’t sure why her mouth only seemed capable of forming questions tonight. Maybe because anything else felt too dangerous. Too exposing.

“I’m not big on socializing, I suppose,” the woman answered, her tone quieter now. “I just don’t… seem to fit in at events like this. My friend Mel told me to give it a try, but…”

She shrugged. “Why would this time be any different?”

“Yeah, I get that. I only started coming to these not long ago, but…It’s always the same, right? Whether it’s TV or real life. Clichés stacked on top of clichés. Rich kids partying hard, fucking around while totally wasted. Pretending it matters.”

She paused, realized how bitter she sounded, and softened her tone a little.

“You’d think things would evolve, right?”

Truth was, she hated this scene. Not the chaos itself, but the entitled swagger that came with it.
But business was business. And these parties were good for business. Since she’d started crashing college events, she’d made more money than she cared to admit.

It hadn’t been too hard to find a student contact willing to give her a heads-up when something big was in the works; especially once the right people knew what she had to offer. She showed up whenever she could, careful not to draw too much attention.

 “Well, considering the first fraternity was founded in 1776 and probably involved just as much debauchery and hazing, I’d say… you’re right again!” the breathtaking woman said, grinning now.

More.

Vi tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh really?”

“Yes. Although, like most things, it’s not all bad. The original purpose was to pursue knowledge and share it with other brilliant minds. The motto was ‘Love of learning is the guide of life.’”
She paused, then added, more softly, “It’s never just good or bad. Reality doesn’t work that way. It’s rarely Manichean, if ever.”

The way her eyes lit up when she spoke, animated, passionate; was honestly dazzling. If Vi thought she’d looked beautiful in the shadows, she was fucking radiant now.

“Wow… It’s kind of amazing, being able to see the good in things. Maybe you could teach me how? I could really use it.” The smile that came to her lips was unfiltered, involuntary.

And then came the reward. A real laugh. Not a snort, not a chuckle, an actual laugh.

Vi swore it wrapped around her like heat. She felt herself melting on the spot, silently praying it wasn't glaringly obvious. She tried to play it cool, but the woman was staring at her now. With genuine interest. It was intimidating as hell.

“I am all about boring facts. I highly doubt you’d find any lesson from me interesting.” Her voice remained light, but beneath lingered a resignation that Vi found troubling.

“There happen to be circumstances when I absolutely love boring facts. Don’t underestimate me.” Vi replied, her voice dipping into a raspier, more serious register.

Instantly, the atmosphere between them thickened, charged with an intensity that pressed heavy against her chest. God, the way their eyes locked was so powerful Vi felt dangerously close to tears. And she never cried anymore.

Vi swallowed thickly, her heartbeat pounding so loud in her temples it drowned out everything else.
It felt like it was pumping molten gold; dense, burning, and unbearably precious.

“Wh-What circumstances?” The incredibly beautiful woman stuttered; actually stuttered; and Vi thought she might lose it completely.

If they’re delivered by a stunning woman with eyes as wide and clear as the summer sky. If her voice sounds like an angel with an accent that makes me want to steal her breath, taste her tongue, trace her perfect, graceful neck and bury my lips into her skin… If they make her smile in a way that brightens her entire face, rendering every beautiful thing in this world and the next dull in comparison.

But she couldn't say that. First, because it was unbearably corny and embarrassingly sentimental. Second, because she didn’t even know this woman. Yet here she was, right in front of her, lips parted, holding her breath, waiting expectantly. There was something there, undeniably potent, sending shivers cascading down Vi’s spine.

“What are you majoring in?” she asked, blatantly sidestepping the question.

The woman appeared momentarily taken aback but recovered swiftly.

“History, with a minor in Philosophy.” She answered simply.

“Hmm. Why?” Vi couldn’t seem to stop herself from pressing further

Clearly, the angel hadn’t expected this follow-up either.

“Oh. Well… because I find it fascinating, for starters,” she explained earnestly, her expression turning thoughtful. “I believe knowing the past is essential to understanding the present and anticipating the future. Philosophy demands critical thinking, forces you to reflect deeply. History grounds you in time, reminding you where you come from; not to trap you there, but precisely so you can move forward. Remembering is crucial if we’re to avoid endlessly repeating the same terrible mistakes, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t that the definition of insanity or something?” Vi teased softly, gaze unwavering.

The stranger's eyes widened slightly, locked irreversibly onto Vi’s blue-grey ones, as if unwilling; or unable; to break away.

“It is,” she admitted, a soft surprise blooming into unmistakable pleasure on her face. “According to Einstein, anyway. Doing the same thing over and over again, yet expecting a different outcome.”

“Okay, so obviously you have an above-average IQ and you’re passionate about learning and all that, but... there must be something you do just for fun, right?” Vi wanted more. Inexplicably, desperately more.

“Shooting”

“Like…guns?”

“More like rifles. It runs in the family. And I happen to be an excellent shot.” She replied confidently. It suited her. Damn, it was hot.

“Holy fuck, that’s something I’d really love to see!” Vi exclaimed, completely honest.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Well…who knows, maybe someday you will…” she teased softly, her smirk bordering on seductive; or at least, Vi interpreted it as such. Honestly, everything about this woman was seductive.

“I hope so. Anything else? Besides the shooting?” Vi pressed further. She wasn’t even pretending to be subtle anymore.

“I play the piano” The softness of her voice alone was music.

“Oh, I can totally picture it. Your hands…” Woah, woah, Vi, stop there! Shut up!

“I mean, I could just imagine… your long fingers…on the keys” she added awkwardly. Smooth, Vi. Smooth as sandpaper. Vi shut her eyes, cringing inwardly, oblivious to the woman’s reaction. Her silence was terrifying. Had she messed this up?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s alright, really. Long fingers are actually…quite helpful” she murmured gently.

“Damn you’re interesting…” The words slipped out before Vi could stop them. She felt herself spiraling, helpless against it.

“Am I?” The girl’s voice was shy, yet her smile carried an unmistakable hint of playful confidence. Was that cockiness Vi detected? Another fucking attractive trait.

“Yes,” vi admitted quietly, cheeks burning, and it wasn’t due to the alcohol. She hadn’t touched her drink since first laying eyes on her. She desperately wished she could keep her composure.

“And now I also know I was right all along.” Vi continued, forcing smugness into her tone as compensation.

“About what?” Oh, that accent…

“You shouldn’t be hiding.” Vi’s voice softened, sweet sincerity bleeding through despite her best efforts.

“And how would you know that?” The marvel laughed incredulously

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vi raised an eyebrow playfully

“I’m afraid it’s not”

“Hmm,” the pink-haired woman hummed thoughtfully. “Well, it's because of, you know…” She paused dramatically, thoroughly enjoying the way those deep blue eyes watched her closely, expectantly. “My superpowers,” she finally whispered, conspiratorial, knowing exactly how silly it sounded.

The girl’s laugh that followed was easily the best sound Vi had ever heard.

“Oooh, so you're secretly a superhero who’s finally come to save me from my misery? Took you long enough,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling.

“Exactly. Guess there’s no point hiding it anymore.” Vi feigned seriousness, cleared her throat dramatically. “I’m Batman.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate, really” she replied smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Because, as a matter of fact, Batman doesn't have any superpowers. He relies solely on his strength and very expensive gadgets to fight evil. So…” Her grin widened adorably, and her face softened, highlighting her delicate features even more; those striking cheekbones, the subtle gap between her front teeth, and that irresistible dimple above her chin.

“Oh man…” Vi pretended deep disappointment. “Couldn’t just let me have this one, could you?”

“Sorry.”

“You really do have all the answers,” Vi mused softly.

“I most certainly don’t. Like, I still don’t know why you thought I shouldn’t be hiding, considering you don’t even know me.”

The playfulness had vanished, seriousness filled her gaze now. Vi could see the curiosity in those blue diamonds; so vivid it felt solid, like she could hold it in her hand. Tangible; like a gemstone carved out of light

“I’m warning you, my real secret is boring compared to being a fake super-powered Batman. But if you insist…I guess I’m just observant,” Vi admitted with a casual shrug. Her new companion didn't respond, clearly hoping Vi would continue.

“Alright, so from what I've noticed, the best things usually take a little effort to uncover. But once you do, it’s a reward. The fact that I found you here, instead of downstairs with some random guy’s tongue down your throat, says a lot already. You seemed calm, patient, lost in thoughts I probably couldn’t even begin to understand. Honestly, someone would have to be blind not to notice you're different. And being different is beautiful. Beautiful things shouldn't hide away.”

Wow. She’d really rambled on, hadn’t she? God, that was cheesy. Vi felt immediately self-conscious, words never having been her strongest suit, even less so since the days when she never shut up. Carefully, she risked a glance upward to gauge the other woman’s reaction. The woman appeared genuinely stunned, taking a moment to process Vi's words, eyes unwaveringly fixed upon her. All Vi could think was how mesmerizing those eyes were.

Eventually, the woman cleared her throat softly, and Vi had to strain slightly to hear her quiet response

“It would be a girl’s tongue…”

Wait, what? Oh. Oh.

So, the incredible person she’d just met was into women. A beautifully tormenting realization. Vi managed only a gentle smile, exhaling softly, unsure how else to respond. Dreaming was fine, but reality needed acknowledging: this woman was brilliant, clearly privileged, destined for great things.

Vi was just trouble, working in a garage and dealing drugs to support what little family she had left. They belonged to entirely different worlds. So she’d settle for basking in the other woman’s light for as long as she could. She’d savor the presence of this tall, kinda quirky, definitely nerdy woman—until it ended. It was fine.

“So… you’re quite surprising yourself.” The woman finally broke the silence. Her eyes were uncertain, shy, yet radiant.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So what about you? What do you do for fun?” she asked Vi.

That was an easy one.

“Boxing. And mechanics. Cars too, I guess—but mostly bikes. I started learning when I was really young, and now I’ve got my own. Built it from scratch. Took me a while to get it running exactly the way I wanted, and to make it look good, too. But now? It’s perfect.”

“You-you ride a bike?” Pretty face was visibly impressed.

“Yeah, I do. Ever tried it?” Vi suddenly pictured slim arms wrapped around her waist, driving through winding mountain roads on a sunny day, a vision she couldn’t shake off.

“Oh no! Never. But…I think I would like to.”

“Does it scare you?”

“Not really. Not if I trust whoever’s driving.”

“Hmm. Who knows, maybe someday you will.” Vi teased, echoing the woman’s earlier words. The genuine smile she received in return made her heart skip painfully.

“What are you studying here?” the girl asked next.

Oh no. Now she just wanted to throw up.

The thick wad of bills in her inside jacket pocket felt heavier than ever—like it was mocking her. Shame settled in her solar plexus like a slab of lead, quiet and immovable. She couldn’t say it. She hated lying—but she couldn’t speak the truth either. What would this brilliant woman think if she knew why she was really here? Would she still look at her the same way? Would she ever want to talk to her again? Some risks just weren’t worth taking.

So she deflected. Again.

“We already established you’re pretty smart. Why don’t you guess?” Vi offered lightly, masking her unease.

Blue eyes lit with amused curiosity.

“Hmm. Alright,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Keep in mind, this is purely based on stereotypes from our short conversation and…physical appearance. Though, now that I think of it, that feels judgmental, so…maybe we shouldn't play.” She frowned adorably. How could someone this classy be this ridiculously cute?

“Oh, come on!” Vi laughed warmly, desperate now for theories. “Give it a try. I promise I won’t be offended.”

“Fine,” the woman sighed dramatically, taking a deep breath as if about to leap off a cliff. “Perhaps Art? Or something sports-related, because you’re obviously very…um…” Her voice trailed off into a shy blush that made Vi’s heart flip.

Violet Lane would willingly suffer through hell and back to witness that blush again and again; but she'd never admit it. Not even under torture.

“Yeah?” Vi prompted with a playful grin, determined that the sentence had to be finished.

“It’s just-well, you are obviously…in great shape.” She finally managed, clearly struggling to maintain her composure.

She could get used to this. She wouldn’t.

“Thank you, stranger.” Vi couldn’t resist winking, delighting as the other woman quickly looked away, visibly shy. “But why Art though?”

“I don’t know… I guess I picture you as kind of a free spirit. Sort of.” The beauty kept her gaze on the ground. What a shame.

“You keep flattering me now!” Vi teased gently

“No, I didn’t mean- I just…”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I like it.” Another playful wink, rewarded with a quick, amused glance from the captivating woman in front of her.

“So…was I even close?” Blue eyes sparkled mischievously, lips curving into a charming smirk.

“Well…” Vi hesitated, torn between truth and evasion.

“Caitlyn?” another voice interrupted from down the hallway. “Caitlyn, are you there?”

Both women stood abruptly, feeling like teenagers caught in mischief. Another woman approached gracefully, her white dress striking against her dark skin. Relief flickered in her hazel eyes when they landed on the slender, definitely taller woman Vi had been speaking to. Caitlyn, apparently. Beautiful. So proper.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Everything alright?” The newcomer glanced briefly at Vi before returning her attention to Caitlyn.

“Yes, Mel, everything is fine.” Caitlyn replied, a note of irritation in her voice; or was Vi imagining it, projecting her own frustration?

“You just vanished, and it’s been a while. I was just checking in. Who’s your friend?” Mel’s gaze shifted fully to Vi, prompting Caitlyn to turn as well, clearly realizing she didn’t even know Vi’s name.

“Looks like someone was looking for you, after all.” Vi exhaled softly, smiling faintly. “I was just leaving anyway. It was great meeting you, Caitlyn.” Her eyes lingered deeply, memorizing every shade of blue, every subtle reflection for later recollection.

“I hope you both have a good night,” she finished softly, bashfully averting her gaze.

She turned on her heels and fled.

Down the stairs—too loud, too fast—through the half-empty room that blurred as she passed.
She didn’t stop until the air hit her face. Until she’d put distance between her and the house.
Until her hands were gripping the helmet tucked in the top case of her bike.

Then it hit. The bubble had burst. And suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

It felt like being punched in the gut—but deeper. Like her ribs were folding inward, like her lungs forgot how to hold air. She had lost it, up there. Completely. Reality didn’t settle back in; it slammed into her, without warning.  A wave, all weight and no mercy. And Vi hadn’t been ready for the violence of it.

She slipped on her helmet, started her old Triumph, and rode into the night.

Streetlights slid over the curve of her black helmet like distant memories, and slowly; almost reluctantly; Vi began to feel like herself again. And yet, her head was full.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn.

Like a heartbeat, not in her chest, but everywhere. In her hands. In her throat. In the hollow ache just below her ribs.

She couldn’t believe how profoundly stupid it was. And still—God, it felt so right.

If she stopped thinking, if she just let it be, it felt like she’d stumbled onto the one thing she’d been chasing all along, without even knowing it. Like reattaching a missing piece she never knew was gone. Now, all she had to do was bury it deep. Hide it like some sacred treasure no one could ever find. And keep moving.

And, of course; figure out how the hell she was supposed to see her again.

******

Reaching the South Side didn’t take long; not that Vi was really paying attention to the road anyway. It was late, and Powder and Ekko would surely be asleep by now. But Benzo wouldn’t be. He was a night owl. Sure enough, as she crossed the threshold of the small, worn-down house, a faint glow seeped from beneath the door to his study. She knocked softly and entered without waiting for a response.

The room was small. Four cramped walls, dominated by a large desk in the center, a coffee table and a worn-out chair nestled in one corner, and a tall, overflowing bookshelf in the opposite corner. Old jazz music whispered quietly in the background. Everything felt even smaller with the broad-shouldered man seated behind the desk, smoke swirling lazily from the joint between his thick fingers. He was busy counting money, barely glancing up when Vi took the seat opposite him.

“How’d it go?” Benzo asked in his characteristically gravelly voice.

“Uneventful,” Vi lied flatly.

She pulled the bundle of bills from her jacket, wrapped tight with a rubber band, and tossed it onto the desk. Benzo eyed it appreciatively, passing her the barely smoked joint. Vi accepted gratefully, taking a long drag. God, Benzo always had the best weed—perfect for calming her restless mind.

“Any words?” she asked again, caught in her own echo, like a damn broken record playing in an empty room.

“Nah. Loris is still on it. Between the two of us, we’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll hear something before he even makes a move.” Benzo spoke in that familiar, stony voice of his, quiet, but carved from concrete.

“I don’t like it. Not one bit. We’re missing something. I can feel it.” Vi was tense.

There had to be a reason Silco was waiting to make his move. It reeked of something worse. A bad omen, heavy and silent, like the stillness before a storm.

“Ain’t nothin’ more we can do right now, kiddo. We’re watchin’ him. We’re ready. Powder is, too. You can’t let that eat you alive. You’ve got enough on your plate already, don’t ya think?”

“And Sevika?”

“Jesus, kid. Am I gonna get the same damn questions every night?” He sighed, irritation creeping in. “We’re in this together. You know the drill.”

But she couldn’t help it. She was looping. Terrified. It could all go wrong in a second. One second was all it ever took.

“Alright, alright. Jeez. Guess all that cash isn’t putting you in a better mood, huh?” Vi raised her hands in mock surrender as he began counting the money she'd brought.

“Wish you didn’t have to do this shit, Vi, but damn... All this money’s filling the safe quick. Keep this up, both kids might even get to college.” Benzo cracked a satisfied, crooked smile.

“That’s exactly the point, old man.” Vi sighed wearily

“I’d rather think about that than about the fact he'd put a bullet in my head if he found out.” Benzo tried to sound casual, but Vi heard the sadness beneath.

“Vander did some shady things too.” Vi offered weakly

“He never made you do ‘em.”

“Benzo, we do what we gotta do, alright? That’s just how it is. It’s not like he’s around to see it anyway.” She paused, eyes narrowed at the smoke curling from the end of the joint.  “Who the hell knows what he would’ve thought.”

She was tired now. Bone-tired. And the joint was almost gone anyway

“Come on, Vi, don’t bullshit yourself. We both know exactly what he'd think.” His voice softened, stern yet gentle.

“And yet, here we are.” She concluded sharply, standing abruptly. She extinguished the joint in the ashtray and left without another word.

Upstairs, she took a long, hot shower, finally collapsing onto her small bed with a heavy sigh. Her mind immediately drifted to Caitlyn; the conversation replayed again and again. Brief in reality, but endlessly detailed in memory. The graceful curve of her legs, the gentle swell of her chest, lips perfectly shaped, and those hauntingly blue eyes. Her silky voice echoed softly in Vi’s thoughts. For the first time, she wondered earnestly what Caitlyn might have thought of her; probably just another random girl at a frat party. Still, she hadn't seemed bothered by Vi's presence. That was something, at least.

She would see her again. That was just a fact now.

Even if it meant lurking from afar like a damn stalker; because let’s be honest, there was no way she had the balls to talk to her again. Would she even remember the weirdo who sat beside her for five minutes in a stinking hallway during some frat party? Vi wasn’t even a student there. She only had one reason to come back to campus. Well… now there were two.

Those rich idiots paid good money for weed, pills, coke…whatever made them feel interesting for five minutes. Sure, there were plenty of other places to sell. But most of those spoiled brats had no clue about market prices, so... Sometimes, she bumped it up a little. No harm, no foul.

She sold good shit. She didn’t have work the next day, but she’d have to restock; those fuckers had drained her dry. She’d go see Mylo in the afternoon. After that, maybe hang around one or two of her usual spots. The regular junkies always found her eventually. The key was knowing when it was time to move.

She always struggled to sleep. She hated the nightmares. The sweat. The thoughts twisting and crashing into each other in her already tired brain. But at least now, she had something to dream about. Yearning for a woman she’d barely met would probably count as pathetic; trivial, even, compared to the shitstorm they were all living through. But Vi couldn’t care less.

Her mind was hers. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted with it

******

At 5:24 am, Vi’s eyes abruptly snapped open. A nightmare, probably. But thankfully, she couldn’t remember it. Sleep wouldn’t return now; it rarely did. Resigned, she got up, dressed quickly, and headed straight to the kitchen downstairs. Cooking always comforted her, simple meals she knew she excelled at. Late-night cooking shows were her refuge on sleepless nights, providing a soothing distraction from darker thoughts. Benzo handled the grocery shopping, something for which she’d always be grateful. The two teenagers inevitably added their preferences; mostly sugary snacks high in calories; but thankfully, there was usually enough variety.

She brewed hot cocoa, hating the bitterness of coffee, and began preparing breakfast. At precisely 6:30, like every weekday morning, footsteps echoed in the hallway as Powder and Ekko woke and got ready for school. Soon enough, they joined her in the kitchen.

“Hey, sis! Damn, smells amazing!” Powder greeted her warmly, stepping into Vi’s waiting half-hug

“Gotta get some sugar in that twiggy frame,” Vi teased, poking her stomach

“How long’ve you been up?”

“Oh, not long. I always sleep like a rock,” Vi winked.

“Okay, shut up if all you’ve got is bullshit. Too early for that.” Powder rolled her eyes.

“Always a ray of sunshine.” Vi replied dryly, earning a chuckle from Ekko.

“And I don’t want to hear a sound from you either, schoolgirl.” The silence she demanded came easily. She didn’t say another word until they both finished their breakfast.

“So, what you up to today?” she asked Vi.

“No work today. Just some errands, then probably taking it easy.”

“Hmm. Right.” Powder mumbled suspiciously, eyes narrowing

Vi had managed to keep her activities hidden from them so far. But she knew her sister wasn’t stupid. She was, in fact, a literal genius. A traumatized one, sure; but that didn’t dull her perception. Which, for a sixteen-year-old, was damn impressive.

Vi only wanted to provide for her. Protect her.

Powder didn’t need to know the risks she took every day. She was all Vi had left. Her only purpose. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her. Even if it meant lying. Mostly by omission, anyway.

Vi hated lying. To anyone. But when the truth cut too deep; when it had already carved her open; she genuinely believed hiding it was the only way to survive it. Powder didn’t push. Vi knew the day would come, eventually. But until then, she’d keep dodging it. Something she happened to be very good at.

When Powder left the kitchen, Ekko lingered. Vi seized the moment. Ekko was a computer prodigy. There was almost nothing he couldn't achieve online, whereas Vi barely knew how to open a browser. She’d asked for his help before, but never for something personal. Still, she trusted his discretion.

“Hey, Little man. I need a favor.”

“Sure. What’s up?” Ekko replied casually

“I just need you to find someone for me.” Vi's voice might have betrayed her tension because Ekko immediately eyed her warily.

“What’s the catch?” he asked cautiously

“I don’t have much to go on.” She attempted a casual tone.

“Shoot.”

“Just so we're clear—we’re talking seriously low-profile shit here. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you. Now quit stalling and spit it out.”

“Her name’s Caitlyn. College student, History major, Philosophy minor. She’s about my age”

“What year?”

“No clue…”

“Fuck, that’s not much” Ekko sighed heavily

“Told ya.”

“Physical description?”

Something practical Vi, not “gorgeous”, “stunning” or “breathtaking”.

“Tall, lean build. Long dark blue hair. Cerulean eyes, sharp cheekbones.”

“Cerulean?” Ekko mocked gently, making a face

“Blue dude! Like a bright sky or the ocean, just… blue!” Vi’s frustration rose.

“Like Pow’s hair?”

“Do we really have to do this right now?” She hissed quietly, trying not to raise her voice.

“Okay okay, jeez. Since when do you talk like a fucking dictionary?” his brows furrowed, amused.

“Sorry pal. Think you can find something?” she asked more calmly

“You know I can. When’s it due?”

“No rush.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know when I find her.”

“Thanks, Ekko.”

“You got it,” he answered warmly, giving her a genuine smile she gratefully returned.

Powder’s head poked back into the doorway.

“What are you two plotting?”

“Nothing,” Vi and Ekko answered simultaneously. So much for subtlety

“Okay…Movie tonight, dickhead?” She turned toward Vi.

“I’ll be there, reluctantly as ever, asshole.” Vi smiled broadly, feeling genuinely lighter for the first time that morning.

******

After brushing her teeth and tossing her gear into her gym bag, she decided she needed to move.
The tension had been coiling up inside her for too long; it had to get out, one way or another.

And since she wasn’t in the mood to fuck some random girl into oblivion, a run and a punching bag would have to do.

It felt amazing.  The burn.  The sweat. The brutal rhythm of fists against leather.  It made her feel powerful again. You didn’t get arms like that without commitment; at least three times a week, two hours minimum. Heart pounding, muscles aching, heavy weights lifted until failure.  Anger released in waves, in sweat; hot, sticky, uncomfortable. But purifying. Then: a quick shower at the gym. And a drive home. Just enough time to grab a bite.

In the early afternoon, it was time to see Mylo and restock. But it wasn’t just about picking up narcotics.

The guy was one of her closest friends. He’d lived with her and Powder for a while, back when Vander was still around. Now, he was just like her; scraping by, playing the game, staying alive. Except he was alone. He worked at a pawn shop and kept a foot in the drug trade that ran through the south side; the same ghetto they’d grown up in. Whenever Vi dropped by, they always took time to sit, smoke, and catch up. It was routine. Familiar. Maybe the only part of her life that hadn’t completely changed.

Vi navigated the grimy district streets, past crumbling buildings and shadowed corners, arriving at Mylo’s familiar black door—paint peeling, vibrant graffiti covering its surface. She knocked, paused, knocked twice more, paused again, then finished with a single knock, signaling her arrival. Phones were too risky.

A click, and Mylo’s goofy face appeared. His brown hair stuck out chaotically, as always. He ushered her quickly inside, immediately enveloping her in an uncomfortably tight hug before stepping back.

“Hey man! How you been?” Vi greeted him warmly.

“Same as always, you greedy fool! Already out of supplies?” He sounded simultaneously incredulous and pleased.

“What can I say? Business is booming. You know how I roll,” She smirked proudly.

“Best damn dealer around,” Mylo acknowledged with a wink. “Sit down, I’ll roll us one.” He gestured toward his battered couch.

Settling onto the worn cushions, Vi watched him skillfully prepare a joint.

“So, what’s the word out there?” She asked casually.

“Nothin’ much lately. Shit’s been quiet. Apart from that blaze near the Fissures—ya know the one? The warehouse? But that was, what... two months ago now? Since then, not even a sneeze.”

“Dunno about you, but I’m feelin’ kinda sick over here.” Vi muttered it, half a joke, half dead serious. She wouldn’t have said it to anyone else. But Mylo? He got it.

“Yeah, I feel ya. Motherfucker Supreme’s been way too quiet lately. Keep it up, and some other crook’s gonna try his luck; make a move, take the reins. And that? That’d be bad.”

So yeah. Her friend shared her worries. Which, frankly, made it even worse

“It’s like… the bastard’s crawled into some hole, plotting shit with his goons. And… we both know what he wants. So I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid or… Fuck, I don’t know. But then again, what could I even do? We prepped as much as we could.” She let out a sigh. Heavy

“Powder knows?”

“Hell no. She’s not scared of him”

“That little dumbass! She should be.” Mylo muttered, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly toward the ceiling.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Vi shot back soflty.

“How’s she doing otherwise?”

“Great, actually. Grades are solid, therapy’s consistent, she’s stable. Fuck, Mylo, what if he…”

“Listen to me. He might have the cops in his pocket and a bunch of ass-licking pups sniffin’ around him,
but if that one-eyed prick ever comes near one of you; you won’t be alone. There are still people loyal to you. And he fucking knows it. Just stay the fuck off his turf. You hear me?”

“My eyes are always open, man. And I got more than just one pair.” She didn’t even know who she was trying to convince, him, or herself. She lit up, and already the smoke was helping. A little.

“Yeah, but… come on. We know the guy by now. He’s smart as hell. And patient. Powder’s still young. Could be years before he makes a move. He’s in no rush.”

“What’s your point, wanker?”

“Live a little.”

He shrugged. Simple as that.

******

Life had a strange sense of humor. Ever since Ekko provided Vi with those precious details a few days ago, she’d been trapped in a surreal haze.

Her full name was Caitlyn Kiramman, twenty-one years old. She had a social media profile but never posted anything herself, leaving only a few pictures tagged by friends—each one effortlessly stunning, each one driving Vi further into her quiet obsession. Caitlyn had spoken at a university conference, allowing Vi the guilty pleasure of hearing her voice again. She felt like a creepy stalker, but there was no fighting it.

She needed to breathe to stay alive, right?

Well; she needed to know that girl too.

Same thing.

Same goddamn thing.

But here’s the best fucking part.

Her mother, Cassandra, was President of the Congress.

And her father, Tobias, just happened to be one of the top neurosurgeons in the goddamn world.

Yeah. Definitely not much.

The Kirammans were only one of the wealthiest families on the entire damn continent.

Which meant that, in her right mind, Violet Lane, twenty years old, mechanic in a shitty garage by day, drug dealer by night, with no parents and not a cent to her name, would’ve given up in a heartbeat. No hesitation. She’d have grabbed a shovel, dug herself a hole deep as the Mariana Trench, buried her goddamn delusions in it, and moved on with her life in the South Side, where dreams didn’t come true.

So no, she clearly wasn’t in her right mind. Because this? This wasn’t the plan at all. She wished it was. She really did. That had to be it, then. She was losing it. For real.

Because right now, she was at some university outdoor event in a park near campus. She’d rushed there straight after work. Why? Because she knew there was a chance she might be there.

It was 6PM on a Friday. The sun was still high. There were food stands, music, and a few early drinkers already nursing their first beer.

She carried only a small stash. Her real motive tonight had nothing to do with business. She stood off to the side, under a small tree, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, and watched. Snippets of cheerful conversations drifted toward her. Summer was nearing its end, but the city stayed warm well into the fall. She kept her hood up, always aiming to blend in, to stay out of sight. Half an hour passed.

Then she saw her.

Her long hair was loose tonight, cascading like a dark waterfall over one shoulder. She looked so goddamn elegant, Vi had to fight the urge to bolt. She was even more beautiful in daylight. Of course she was. She stood with her friend from last time, Mel, and some tall, broad guy with brown hair Vi vaguely recognized from the fraternity. She was the only one in the group without a drink, but her serene smile made her eyes glow. She hadn’t seen Vi yet. She was still far enough.

And that, somehow, brought Vi a pathetic wave of relief.

But at the same time, she was dying to speak to her again. Say what, though? What could she possibly say? She couldn’t let this woman get to know her too well. And she had no hope; none; of ever having more than this. So she just stood there, filling her starving soul with the sight of her. It was pathetic. But what else could she do? She’d hit a wall. An impasse. She should go. Before she got caught staring.

She was still locked in that quiet ache when a sudden tap on her shoulder pulled her violently back into the world. Startled, she spun around, facing a nervous, skinny blond guy.

“Hey,” he said softly

“Hi.”

“I, uh… I heard you could… provide stuff?” The poor guy was clearly uneasy. Vi didn’t recognize him.
Which meant someone had pointed him her way.

“What d’you need?”

“Weed. Couple of Mollys, if you got ‘em”

She handed him his request discreetly, quickly exchanging the goods for cash before he disappeared back into the crowd.

When Vi turned back, Caitlyn had vanished from view, leaving a pang of bittersweet relief. This was probably for the best. With resigned resolve, Vi strode decisively toward the nearest stoplight, ready to cross the street and leave.

As she waited for the green light, she felt a light tug on her right forearm. She turned.

And the moment her eyes landed on the person behind her, she thought she might pass out.

“Caitlyn?”

Chapter Text

Billie Eilish

“Don't you know too much already?
I'll only hurt you if you let me
Call me friend but keep me closer
And I'll call you when the party's over

Quiet when I'm comin' home and I'm on my own
And I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that
Yeah, I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that”

September 2012

There was still so much left to do, Caitlyn hardly knew where to begin. Two essays due, two thick books demanding her attention, dinner scheduled with her parents, a tedious group project, grocery shopping; and perhaps the hardest task of all: convincing her parents that she no longer required their damn chauffeur and finally getting them to accept she’d bought a car for herself. Yet Caitlyn was pragmatic, meticulous, and resourceful; she knew she’d manage it all somehow.

Through the expansive windows of her apartment, located just steps from campus, the sun began its graceful descent, casting soft amber hues across the skyline. The view often captured her attention whenever her focus wavered from her studies. Most students were probably starting their evening rituals by now; heading out with friends or enjoying casual drinks at nearby cafes. But Caitlyn remained at her desk, as usual. She appreciated the quiet solitude of her own space, a privilege she'd earned only after lengthy negotiations with her parents, who had originally expected her to remain under their watchful gaze.

But she was desperate for some privacy, despite how absurdly vast her parents’ home was. She liked to believe she’d earned her freedom; after years of perfect behavior, of being the ideal daughter, working hard, keeping up appearances in front of a high society she secretly despised.

She loved her parents deeply. And they had always returned that love. She hadn’t rejected their money either; it was just... there. Like it had always been. Since the day she was born, and most likely, until the day she died. A constant, as invisible as the air she breathed. She couldn’t say she cared much for it, but she didn’t know life without it either. She was aware of her privilege; uncomfortably aware, most days. She’d never asked for much, yet she had always lived in comfort. It was a means, not an end; it gave her the opportunity to pursue her passions.

Her parents, especially her mother, had other hopes for her. Bigger ones. Cassandra wanted her daughter to thrive, to be revered and feared, successful, untouchable, guarded. They envisioned Caitlyn as a formidable lawyer, a renowned surgeon, or an influential politician who would uphold the proud Kiramman name. The kind who left no room for doubt or failure. A woman who would inherit her legacy and expand it.

Caitlyn didn't resent her mother’s ambitions. She knew Cassandra genuinely wanted her happiness, and despite occasional battles of will, her mother ultimately relented to her daughter’s wishes, at least to an extent. The Kiramman name was still her pride. A name of matriarchs. Of dignity, of power. It was a blessing. And a curse. One Caitlyn had learned to bear gracefully.

She had to respect the grand rules. Focus on her studies. Keep a graceful face at all times. No drinking. No partying. No serious relationships.

Until she’d reached a level of accomplishment deemed satisfactory, until she’d proved herself worthy of their esteemed lineage, her life was to remain devoted to success. Discipline first. Desire later. There was no room for distractions. No room for slipping.

Losing herself wasn’t an option.

Overachieving ran in the family; excellence wasn’t praised, it was expected. And Caitlyn would not be the weak link. She wouldn’t be the one to compromise the legacy. Even if she never became a politician or the CEO of a global empire.

Her father wasn’t the leader of the household; not by a long shot. But he was far more understanding than her mother. Supportive, gentle. He was her safe place. They were close, their bond allowed her to confide things she’d never dare mention to Cassandra.

He was affectionate, reassuring, and endlessly curious about the world. Passionate, in his quiet way. They could talk for hours without ever running out of things to say. He was interesting like that. Wise, too.

But even he wouldn’t contest a decision once her mother had made up her mind.

Not openly, at least.

Socially, Caitlyn had few genuine friends, though she cherished her solitude. Jayce was like a brother to her, and Mel was her closest confident. The others were pleasant enough, but more like passing company than real connections. Temporary. Surface-level. Fleeting acquaintances.

Whenever she dared to lay down her mask, Caitlyn often found herself stumbling through the interaction, slightly off-beat; awkward, even. She couldn’t let everyone think she was just a nerd, or worse, a weirdo. Not with the things she cared about. Not in this world.

Her love life was, ultimately, what her parents desired. It barely existed. She could only do casual because she didn’t have it in her to fight for more. She never really wanted it that much, if she was honest. But she was still human, after all.

With time, she’d come to realize that women were often willing to spend the night with her, for very little effort on her part. Caitlyn knew she wasn’t ugly. Sometimes, she found company; just to fill the silence in her nights, to warm up under the covers, to ignite something on bare skin. But never in her bed. Never in her apartment. That was another grand rule, one she’d established early in college. It was more than enough for her. Her mind was elsewhere.

It stayed focused on facts, dates, logic. On learning. The only thing she truly craved was knowledge. Precision. Control. The feel of her favorite rifle in her hands. The satisfaction of a flawless shot. Yoga in the morning to quiet her thoughts. Coffee with Jayce. Lunch with Mel. Smiles. Laughter. Listening. Helping. Her life was fulfilling. She couldn’t think of anything she was missing.

And yet, sometimes, she felt far away from herself. As if a part of her was sleeping somewhere deep beneath the surface, unreachable. In those moments, she would sit in front of her piano and play her favorite pieces. And something would break open inside.

It made her heart sing, and her mind finally quiet. It felt like lying down in the sun. It felt like peace.

Words like responsibility, success, discipline; shattered into a thousand quiet pieces, falling soundlessly to the ground like glass on sand. And for a moment, she allowed herself to think: “I’ll do great things. I’ll live up to every expectation, even my own. I know I will. But later. It’s okay.”

It was like comforting the child she never really got to be.

But soon enough, she became herself again. And that was fine.

Except when it wasn’t anymore.

Against all odds, despite years of conditioning, despite the finely tuned machinery of her self-control, Caitlyn felt it. A breach. Small, almost imperceptible. But real.

It happened the moment she heard a voice. Clear. Gentle. A stranger’s voice, asking the most ordinary question. She’d looked up. And found herself staring into a gaze; steady, curious, and unmistakably alive. A heart-shaped face. Full, defined lips, bold red. A sharp jaw, softened by the warmth in her expression.

Hair dyed a bold, vibrant pink, almost red. Undercut on the left, short choppy strands falling over the right; two barely brushing her eye. A small piercing on her nose. Several more along her left ear. Muscular arms. Strong thighs.

And her eyes. Powder blue, tinged with grey in the dim light of the hallway. The kindest, most radiant eyes Caitlyn had ever let herself fall into. So gentle yet intense it left her momentarily breathless.

Something stirred in her stomach. It puzzled her. This girl was different. From her. From everyone she usually gravitated toward. From everything her world had been shaped to accept.

Then they started to talk. And almost immediately, Caitlyn realized she didn’t want it to end. It felt effortless, like speaking with someone she’d always known. The stranger seemed interested in her in ways Caitlyn couldn’t quite grasp, and yet it made her chest swell with something warm and disarming. She’d never met anyone like her.

She said things no one says to a stranger. Honest things. Raw things. And to her own surprise, Caitlyn didn’t mind. She welcomed it, even.

There was something about her. Sincere, unfiltered, undeniably real.

And that scared her. Because none of what she felt made sense. It was unfamiliar. Uncharted.

Caitlyn sensed that the woman was holding parts of herself back; deflecting some questions, keeping others at bay. But that only made her want to know her more. Her curiosity had few boundaries, and this woman pulled at it with every glance, every half-smile. The way she looked at her… It was almost too much. Like she might drown in it. In that gaze; vivid, unrelenting, and entirely focused on her.

Caitlyn didn’t want to drown.

But the water was warm. Soothing. It moved around her in waves, alive and restless.

Dangerous waters, indeed.

But then, they were abruptly interrupted. And it felt like a stone had dropped in her throat. Caitlyn didn’t get the chance to ask anything that would help her find the pink-haired woman. No last name. No number. Not even a clue. She hadn’t even shared her name. As if she didn’t want Caitlyn to find her.

She could only watch her walk away, powerless; the words don’t go looping in her head, over and over, silent and desperate. It felt like a one-time thing. And Caitlyn wasn’t okay with that. Not at all. Which was… insane. They’d talked for what, ten minutes? Fifteen, tops? This wasn’t like her. Not remotely. Besides, there was nothing she could do about it. Was there?

So she told herself to let it go. To be reasonable. To forget.

“Who was that?” Mel, of course, with that knowing look Caitlyn hated more than anything.

“No idea,” she said. And that was all she allowed herself. She’d probably forget all about it by morning, anyway.

Probably.

But the morning came. And several others after that.

And the stupidly beautiful face, the ridiculously smooth voice, and the outrageously toned arms kept showing up (uninvited) in the corners of her mind. Quite often, in fact.

Usually when she least expected it. She’d be working, focused, and then suddenly she was replaying the moment. Again. And again. Of course she could still function. She was Caitlyn Kiramman. But it had gotten… slightly harder. Annoyingly so. It was childish. Immature. Utterly beneath her.

And yet, she couldn’t stop. She wanted to, desperately. The sooner, the better.

But she realized, rather quickly, that there wasn’t much she could do to make it stop. Not entirely. So she adapted. She found a method. A compromise. If she allowed herself to indulge the distraction; briefly, at the right time; she could refocus more efficiently afterward. It worked. Mostly. And so she did just that.

Because Caitlyn Kiramman always rose to a challenge. Even this one.

******

The following week passed more smoothly. Just as planned, she completed all her assignments, and even got her parents to agree to her request for a car. They were scheduled to pick one up over the weekend. Nothing extravagant. Caitlyn didn’t want to draw attention. She only needed something reliable. A functioning ride, nothing more. Something to grant her the independence she craved.

By the time Friday arrived, she decided to let herself unwind a little.

There was a gathering in the park across from her apartment — something casual, starting in the late afternoon and going well into the night. Living just across the street meant she could leave whenever she wanted. That alone made her feel at ease. The evening was soft and mild, the kind of night that asked nothing of you. Jayce and Mel grabbed drinks. They exchanged pleasantries along the way, and Caitlyn laughed, genuinely, at yet another one of Jayce’s terrible jokes.

Then she saw it.

A flash of pink, barely visible under a black hood.

Her heart skipped a beat.

There she was.

Leaning casually against a tree, gaze steady on the crowd in front of her. She stood alone, at a fair distance; but in Caitlyn’s world, she filled every inch of space. She’d only seen her once, briefly. But she’d know that silhouette anywhere. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt.

The girl turned slightly, revealing more of her face now as she spoke with someone; Ryan? Bryan? Caitlyn didn’t care. She exchanged a few words with him, maybe shook his hand. Caitlyn couldn’t really tell. And then, just like that, she turned again. One last glance at the crowd. And then she began to walk away.

No. Absolutely not. Not twice.

“Excuse me, guys — I’ll be back in a moment,” she mumbled, already stepping away before they could respond.

Jayce and Mel didn’t even look up. They had no idea what just shifted inside her.

She practically ran toward her.

Only to find her standing at the curb, waiting for the light to turn green. Caitlyn stopped a few steps behind, trying to steady her breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest like it had forgotten how to behave. She didn’t want to startle her. So she stepped closer, carefully, and gently touched her forearm, just enough to invite her to turn around.

When she did, her pupils widened in pure shock.

“Caitlyn?”

That voice again; a little more high-pitched this time, laced with disbelief.

“Hi,” Caitlyn managed. It was all she could say.

“Hi,” the woman echoed, a touch uncertain.

They just stared. Long enough for it to almost become ridiculous — but not quite.

“I was hoping to get a name this time,” Caitlyn said, her voice softer than she’d intended. She’d been haunted by that missing piece for far too long.

“Vi.” God, that crooked smile...

“Vi,” Caitlyn repeated, tasting the name. Liking it far more than she should. “Is it short for...?”

“Violet.”

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“It’s… a beautiful name,” Caitlyn said, because she needed her to know.

“Thank you,” Vi murmured, a little shy now.

“You prefer to be called Vi, I assume?” Though Caitlyn knew already… she’d gladly say both. Gladly moan both, if she let herself think that far.

“Usually, yeah. But you… can call me whatever you like.” It came out almost like a breath — like the words had slipped out before she could stop them. She looked moved. Caitlyn couldn’t quite place why.

“Alright... I suppose I’ll just surprise you then.” And that made her grin like an idiot. She couldn’t help it.

Vi laughed; a low, musical sound that seemed to echo around them.

“Fine by me.” Then she glanced at the ground, lips curling faintly before she looked back up.
“How have you been, Caitlyn?”

She was close enough now that Caitlyn could see the tiny freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, her cheeks.

“Good. Great, actually. I’ve been great. Thank you. And you?”

“Perfect,” Vi said.

Vi’s piercing gaze reached places Caitlyn didn’t even know existed.

“Were you leaving?” she asked, instantly regretting how stupid it sounded.

“I was,” Vi said simply.

“So... you wouldn’t happen to have time for a drink, would you?”

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t rational. She acted on pure instinct, heart first, body second. What a refreshing change of pace. Disturbing, too.

“I—” Vi blinked. “You want to have a drink? With me?” She sounded genuinely amazed. Like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes. Do you?” Caitlyn summoned every ounce of her composure. Her years of training kicked in, she was faking confidence like a pro.

“I... um...” Vi hesitated. For a split second, Caitlyn was sure she was about to say no.

“It’s really okay if—”

“I’d love to,” Vi cut in, flashing a smile that could melt steel.

They walked side by side in silence, heading toward the giant open-air bar set up in the park.
Their eyes met from time to time, briefly, hesitantly; like magnets brushing just close enough to spark, before drifting apart again.

“I’ll have a lemonade, please,” Caitlyn said to the bartender. She hoped Vi wouldn’t think she was weird for not drinking. But Vi didn’t even seem to notice.

“And I’ll have a Coke. On me,” she added casually.

“Vi, you really don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. You’ll get the next one.” She winked.

Caitlyn smiled, quietly thanking her, and they moved away from the crowd, seeking a more secluded spot. When they found it, they sat next to each other. Not too close, not too far.

“So... I never saw you on campus,” Caitlyn said, breaking the silence.

“Were you looking for me, Caitlyn?” That teasing glint in her eyes was merciless.

Caitlyn said nothing. She didn’t have to. Vi had already figured it out, and didn’t wait for a reply.

“It’s a big place,” she added, grin still dancing on her lips. And Caitlyn found that grin wholly irresistible.

“Not to mention I never got the answer to my question. So, one more time, what are you studying, Vi?”

“I thought I made it clear,” Vi smirked. “You had to win the game to find out.”

“Then I must confess, I’m a sore loser. I really hate losing.”

Vi laughed, placing a hand over her heart in mock sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. Really. But first, you can’t always win. That’s just life. And second it doesn’t matter much anyway. I’ll probably be a drop-out soon.”

The pet name sent a small shiver through Caitlyn. But somehow, she kept her cool and returned the favor, smooth as ever.

“You can always win, dear. But that’s a lesson for another time.”

Then, more seriously: “Are you seriously thinking of dropping out?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Vi said with a shrug. “Academics were never really my thing. I’m more of a hands-on kinda girl.”

“I figured,” Caitlyn said, smiling. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. I could help you, you know. If you ever need it.”

Vi glanced at her, a little surprised, and a little moved. “That’s really kind of you. I appreciate it.”

She took a sip of her Coke, then leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting upward.

“I don’t know. It’s like... my brain hits a wall eventually. But my hands…they know what to do. They learn patterns. They follow instinct. They fix things. Improve them. I feel like I can rely on them.”

Evidently, as Caitlyn looked at the hands in question, she imagined them touching other things.
Fixing something else. Learning someone that—

Okay.
That was the line.

She forced those thoughts back down, shaking them off just in time to notice the cuts and bruises across Vi’s knuckles.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t hurt them,” she said with a small grin.

“Maybe,” Vi replied with a chuckle. “Sometimes I don’t wear gloves because I need to feel.”

“To feel what?”

“The force. The impact. And… the pain.” She said it quietly, watching Caitlyn from the corner of her eye.

A silence settled. Lingering. Weighted.

Caitlyn didn’t understand. Not fully. Why would someone willingly seek pain? Of course, there were reasons. Still, a quiet sadness bloomed in her chest.

“I lost you just now, didn’t I?” Vi added gently. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just an outlet. That’s all. It just… hurts a bit more than shooting a rifle or playing the piano.”

“I get it. The need to release the tension,” Caitlyn nodded. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going to implode under the weight of it all.”

She was surprised by her own confession.

“Why is that?” Vi asked softly.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly.

“There are… expectations. I feel them all the time. Always have. I’ve learned to live with them.
A lot of them are mine, actually.”

“But not all.”

“No, not all. Everything I do reflects on my family. Where I come from, perception is everything. How the world sees you, what people think… it matters. There’s no space for failure.”

“Must be hard.”

“Sometimes. But I try to remember I’m lucky. I’ve always had financial security. My parents love me. They gave me everything. It’s only fair to give something back.”

Vi tilted her head slightly, her voice softer than before.

“Seems to me they’re the lucky ones.”

The words hit Caitlyn somewhere deep. Warmth spread in her chest. They looked at each other, eyes open, unguarded.

“What about your family?” she asked gently.

Something shifted in Vi’s expression. A small door closing behind stormy eyes.

“I have a sister,” she said at last. And nothing more.

Caitlyn didn’t want to push. But she was Caitlyn. Curiosity was in her nature.

“How is she?”

Vi’s features softened immediately. “She’s sixteen. Powder’s a handful. But she’s brilliant. Funny. Kind. Really… sensitive.” A quiet smile lit up her face. “She’ll probably be an engineer in robotics or something like that. She’s going to do great things.”

Caitlyn smiled back. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is.”

They were interrupted by Caitlyn’s phone ringing.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, pulling it from her pocket. Vi shook her head with an easy smile. No offense taken.

It was Jayce. She’d completely forgotten about her friends.

“Hey, Jayce.”

“Where the hell are you?” The music blared behind his voice.

“Sorry, I ran into a friend. Lost track of time.”

“Well, get your sweet ass up here! There's someone we want you to meet!”

Mel’s voice rang out in the background. “You’re definitely not coming home tonight, Kiramman!”

Vi clearly heard that. But her expression didn’t change.

Caitlyn winced, then quickly hung up before it could get worse. It was dark now. Time had slipped by again.

She turned to Vi with an apologetic look.

“You should go back to your friends. Really, it’s fine,” Vi said with a reassuring smile.

“Yes. I’m sorry, all the same.” Caitlyn hesitated, still holding her phone. Then, without thinking too much, she handed it to Vi.

“Can I... I mean, would you... maybe give me your number? So we can catch up sometime?”

Since when was Caitlyn Kiramman this awkward?

Vi took the phone without a word and typed her number in.

“So we’re not strangers anymore,” she said, handing it back.

“No. We’re not.”

“Friends, then?” There was a spark in her voice. Something hopeful.

“Gladly.”

Caitlyn was staring now. Memorizing every detail of her face. She couldn’t help it. They were about to part, and she didn’t want to.

“Cool. Goodnight, friend,” Vi said, adding a wink for good measure.

“Goodnight, Vi.”

And just like that, they walked away in opposite directions. A thread stretched between them, unseen but unbroken.

When Caitlyn finally reached Jayce and Mel, they were tipsy, full of energy and bad ideas.
They grabbed her without hesitation, dragging her toward a blonde, good-looking woman with striking green eyes.

“Cait, this is Anna. Anna, that’s my friend Caitlyn. Isn’t she the prettiest face in this soulless jungle?” Jayce declared, with a grin. Mel giggled in approval.

“Yeah, you were right, Jayce! Nice to meet you, Caitlyn,” Anna added, her tone unmistakably flirtatious.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you too, Anna,” Caitlyn replied politely.

“Can I get you a drink, then?”

“I’d love to… but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. For now, at least. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” She smiled, soft but firm. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Anna pouted, playful but disappointed.

“What a buzzkill! It’s so early!” Mel groaned.

“Yeah, we worked hard for you, ungrateful grandma!” Jayce chimed in.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, amused. “Look at me. Do I really look like I need your help?”

Mel laughed. “You do have a point, darling.”

“I’ll see you both next week. Have fun.”

And with that, Caitlyn left the crowd behind, heading toward the cozy silence of her apartment.

She took a long, hot shower, pulled on a tank top and a pair of soft shorts, and collapsed onto her bed with a book.

But she couldn’t focus. She read the same paragraph three times without taking in a word.

With a sigh, she reached for her phone. Unlocked it. Vi’s number was there. She stared at it for a long moment.

There was no harm in texting. Just a message.

So she typed:

Caitlyn
Just so you have my number too.

I hope you made it home safe.

Goodnight, Caitlyn.

The moment she hit send, she felt a little lighter.

Now she could relax. Sleep. Right?

Except she didn’t.

She wondered where Vi was. Where she lived. What she was doing. When she’d reply.

Fifteen minutes passed (though it felt like thirty) before her screen lit up.

Vi
Thank you.

Hope you’re not hiding tonight and actually enjoying the party.

It was good seeing you.

“It was good seeing you.”  Her stomach flipped. It was nothing. Just a text. Still, she answered right away.

Caitlyn
I’m already home, actually.

It was good seeing you too.

I hope next time, we won’t be interrupted.

Vi
Yeah, that would be a first!

You’re not much of a people person, are you?

I hope next time comes soon.

Caitlyn
Not when all people do is dance and drink.

Guess I’m just boring like that.

I hope so too.

Vi
You’re anything but boring.

What are you doing this weekend?

Caitlyn’s breath caught. She wanted to see her. To spend time with her. That wasn’t wrong. It just… felt right. Effortless.

Caitlyn
I’m busy tomorrow. But I’m free on Sunday.

Vi
Sunday it is, then. Lunch?

Caitlyn
I’d love to.

Vi
Perfect. It’s a date. I’ll text you the address. You like Italian?

Caitlyn

I love Italian.

She couldn’t wait for Sunday.

******

Saturday afternoon, she met her parents to pick out a car.

Of course, they wanted the best. Something massive, expensive, and screaming Kiramman. She reasoned with them. Safety, she agreed with. Flashiness? Not so much.

The afternoon dragged on, filled with negotiations and technical talk Caitlyn couldn’t care less about.

Her mind wandered.

She caught herself imagining Vi in stained overalls, arms bare, elbow-deep in an engine, tossing back practical advice like she was born for it. Vi would’ve understood everything they were discussing… probably would’ve had better suggestions than the salesperson.

The thought made Caitlyn smile.

It was still hard to wrap her head around just how often this woman, this stranger, kept surfacing in her thoughts.

By the time evening came, and they sat down to dinner, her impatience was growing by the minute.
Her mind had already left the table.

“I still don’t understand your insistence on buying a car,” her mother said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “You live right next to the university. I fail to see the necessity. It’s nothing but a whim.”

“I know that’s how you see it, Mother,” Caitlyn replied politely. “Some would call having a personal chauffeur the ultimate whim. I just want the freedom to move around on my own… like any other young adult.”

Her mother huffed.

“You are not any other young adult. That said, I admit you’ve done well, and I’m proud of you. But first the apartment, now the car... You’re only twenty-one. You should be focused on your studies.”

“It’s done now, darling,” her father chimed in gently. “She deserves it. Let’s just see how it goes.”

“Right.” Cassandra pursed her lips. “So…how are your classes going?”

“It’s a lot of work, but it’s fascinating. Actually, I was chosen to give a lecture on the evolution of women’s place in American history.” She met her mother’s gaze, her tone playful. “Since I have a great example of it, I thought it was the perfect topic.”

“Keep flattering me, dear, and you might get a sports car next,” Cassandra said with a proud grin.

They all laughed; the warm, shared kind that reminded Caitlyn why she loved them, despite everything.

“How are Jayce and Mel doing?” Tobias asked.

“Great, as always. Mel’s top of her class, and Jayce has a new lab partner. Apparently, they’re working really well together.”

“Well, Jayce is a brilliant young man,” her mother added meaningfully. “He’ll accomplish amazing things. He’d be a good match for you.”

Caitlyn sighed inwardly.

“Oh my god… for the umpteenth time, he’s like a brother to me. And you know I’m not into men. I’d appreciate it if you started acknowledging that.” Her tone was firm. Tired.

“You’re forcing me to repeat myself,” Cassandra said, unfazed. “I have no issue with your preferences. But life is full of surprises. Why close yourself off to possibilities?”

Then, casually: “Mel Medarda would be a perfect match too.”

“And stunning,” her father added with a wink.

“Alright; enough of you two,” Caitlyn groaned.

Their laughter only irritated her more.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship right now? Contradicting yourselves, much?”

“Of course not, dear. You’re far too young for anything serious. It would only distract from your responsibilities. We’re tolerant people, but some things are just not up for debate.”

“Then why bring it up?” Caitlyn asked, exasperated.

“Because that won’t be the case forever,” Cassandra said. “And when the time comes, you’ll need to choose wisely. I don’t want my daughter wasting her time with someone unworthy of her. You know I’ll be watching.”

That stung. More than it should have.

What had gotten into her mother tonight?

Probably the fear. The creeping realization that Caitlyn was slipping from her grasp, making decisions without her. And that frightened her more than anything.

“I know,” Caitlyn murmured.

“I’m sorry, Cait. I’m not trying to pester you.” Cassandra’s voice softened, her eyes gentler now. “You’ve done everything right. You’re the kind of child any mother would dream of. But the world is hard. It’s so easy to get lost, to get hurt. I just want the best for you.”

There was something raw in her voice, a real fear beneath the control. And Caitlyn remembered, again, why she never stayed angry too long. Her mother loved her. Fiercely. She would give anything for her daughter’s happiness. She just needed it to fit into her idea of what that meant. She’d imagined Caitlyn’s life long before she was born. And she still hadn’t let go of that blueprint.

“We just want you to remember we’re here for you,” her father said softly. “Always.”

Cassandra nodded at that. No objection.

“I know. Thank you. I just wish... you trusted me more.”

“We do, darling,” her father said. “But we worry. That’s what parents do. You’re our only child. And all this… your first apartment, your first car... it’s a lot. But you’ll be fine. We raised you well.”

Caitlyn smiled. He always knew what to say. They both did, in their own way.

“I understand. I know what I want. I’m happy with where I am. And I promise, I won’t disappoint you. But I need to start making my own choices. This is my life. And I’m ready for it.”

They smiled at her then; both of them; warm, proud, and maybe just a little scared.

“We know you are,” her mother said, softly.

******

When Sunday finally arrived, Caitlyn was on edge. She didn’t know what to feel, what to wear, what to expect.  Did Vi think this was a real date? She’d said they were friends, hadn’t she?

And if it was something more, Caitlyn would have to make that clear. They could be friends. Nothing more. Anything else would be… complicated. Inappropriate. No one would understand. Her parents would panic. It would all turn into a mess.

It was perfectly normal to have a friend who happened to be stunningly attractive. They weren’t animals. They came from opposite worlds. That kind of story never ended well.

She just had to stay reasonable. As long as it let her spend time with Vi, she’d manage.

She settled on clear skinny jeans and a navy blouse, hair pulled into a high bun with a few strands loose around her face. She felt confident. She felt good.

This was just lunch.

She parked in front of the restaurant five minutes early. The sun was high, the street lively, and the place looked warm and inviting.

She waited by the door.

Fifteen minutes later, she saw Vi arrive on her bike, dressed in all black. She parked a few spots away, removed her helmet and her jacket… and Caitlyn felt her resolve waver.

She looked incredible. Unfairly so.

Vi approached her with a bright smile.

“Hey, friend.”

“Hello.”

“Shall we?” Vi opened the door for her.

Inside, a thin man in a cheap suit lit up as soon as he saw Vi and he opened his arms wide.

“Vi! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?”

Vi gave him a quick handshake instead of a hug. He didn’t seem surprised.

“I’m good, Don. Thanks. I have a reservation.”

“Of course. Your usual table. Right this way, ladies.”

The table was tucked in a quiet corner, overlooking a small flowery terrace. It was perfect.

“I take it you’re a regular here?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’ve only been a few times. Don’s just overly friendly. My sister worked here over the holidays and she loves the place, so...” She hesitated. “I mean, it’s not fancy, but… it’s not a dump either, so…”

“It’s perfect, Violet. Really.”

Vi beamed. It seemed to matter to her.

The waiter arrived with menus.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“What red wine do you have?” Caitlyn asked.

“We have an excellent Barolo, if you’re interested.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you.”

Vi blinked, clearly surprised.

“And for you?” the waiter prompted.

“Uh... just water. Thanks.”

After he left, Caitlyn tilted her head. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I just thought... I had the impression you didn’t drink.”

“A glass of wine with food hardly counts.” She smiled.

“Right. I guess you’re right.” Vi chuckled.

“You don’t want anything?”

“I’m not really much of a drinker.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes playfully. “Do you have any flaws, Violet?”

“If only you knew...” Vi said quietly, almost to herself. “We all have our vices.”

Caitlyn opened the menu. “Any advice?”

“They have great risotto. Lasagna’s amazing too. And the cacio e pepe’s solid, but… not to brag, I could probably make a better one. So I’ll go with one of the others.”

“You cook?”

“A little. Never had any complaints.” She laughed.

Full of surprises. Caitlyn couldn’t cook to save her life. Never had to.

“I’d love to taste it someday.”

“I bet you would.” Another wink. Another flush rising to Caitlyn’s cheeks.

They both went with the lasagna.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Vi said, “we’re very… different people. I’d like to find something we actually have in common today.”

“I think we might share some values. Family, hard work...”

“Yeah, but I meant fun stuff. Like… what’s your comfort food?”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “What’s your point, Vi?”

“You know. Something you could eat any time of day and it always makes you feel better.”

“Easy. Brownies.”

“Brownies? Seriously?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I expected... something fancier. Guess I misjudged you.”

“You’re allowed to… for now. But be careful.” She winked this time. Vi blushed.

“Won’t happen again.”

“And yours?”

“Spaghetti.”

“I love spaghetti. Though I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“I like salty better.”

“We’ll need a middle ground.” Caitlyn smiled. “What about movies?”

“Now that’s something I love. What’s your favorite?”

“I don’t have just one. But I loved E.T. when I was little.”

“You’re kidding! I watched it all the time! Such a classic.”

“See? More common ground.”

“I knew there’d be some.” Vi grinned, still watching her like she was the most interesting thing in the room. “I like all kinds of movies. Spielberg, Guy Ritchie, Scorsese. I’m a Tarantino fan.”

“I saw Kill Bill with Jayce. Violent. Original. I liked it.”

“Yeah. That one’s great.”

A pause. A shift.

“I guess the biggest difference between us must be um…upbringing,” Vi said.

“I wouldn’t know,” Caitlyn replied softly. “You haven’t told me much. And you don’t have to.”

Vi stared down at her plate.

“There’s not much to tell. I don’t have parents. Just my sister.”

“I’m sorry. You two live together?”

“Yeah. With an old friend of my foster father. And Ekko, he’s like a brother. He and Powder grew up together. When we…” She trailed off.

“Vi,” Caitlyn said gently, placing her hand over hers.

Vi went still.

The contact sent a warm ripple through Caitlyn’s whole body.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it. I understand you’ve been through things. I don’t want to pry.”

Vi stared at their hands. For a moment, she didn’t seem to hear her. Then she spoke, her voice low.

“I’m just... not used to talking about it. I never do. And I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

“You won’t get that from me. I just want to know you.”

She hadn’t meant to say it that way. But it came out so easily. Like truth always does.

Vi finally looked up. There was something in her eyes Caitlyn couldn’t quite name. Only that it was beautiful.

“I want that too,” Vi whispered. “We have time, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said. “We do.”

They finished their meal on a lighter note, exchanging little things about each other, never out of questions. And never once looking away for too long.

They laughed imagining a conversation between Powder and Cassandra.

 “Please, Powder, do try to resemble a vertebrate. One mustn't slouch like a common street urchin.” Caitlyn said, mimicking her mother with the poshest tone she could muster.

“Sheesh, Lady, take a chill pill. Get that stick outta your ass yourself — or bend over and let me help you out,” Vi drawled in a perfect nasal teenage voice.

They burst into laughter, unable to stop for a while.

They shared family anecdotes. Quirks, rules, the strange tenderness of complicated bonds. Caitlyn talked about her history classes and the upcoming lecture she was giving. Vi told her about the garage where she worked part-time as a mechanic. They spoke of Jayce and Mel, how Caitlyn had met them in school, and of Powder, of course.

It felt effortless. Like breathing. They fit.

By the time they finished their tiramisu, it was clear neither of them wanted the day to end.

Outside, the sun was still warm as they lingered near the restaurant.

“You remember that conversation we had? About outlets?” Vi asked casually.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

“I think I have an idea.” That grin; playful, daring; would be the death of her.

“I think I know where this is going… but please, enlighten me,” Caitlyn said, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Vi wiggled her eyebrows, and Caitlyn let out a loud, surprised laugh.

“Oh Lord, okay — I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear your choice of words.”

“You totally did.”

“So, you mean... you want me to hit a punching bag?”

“I most definitely do.” Vi smirked. “And I’d like to try shooting. If you’ll teach me, of course.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You know it takes a lot of focus. Precision. It’s harder than it looks. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?”

The way Vi swallowed, slow and visible, made Caitlyn’s eyes drop to her throat, following the motion.

“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” Vi replied. “What about you? Think you’re ready to show me how strong those lean arms really are?”

“Oh, please, Violet.” Caitlyn scoffed, but the flush in her cheeks betrayed her.

Chapter Text

The Head and the Heart

“I'll tell you one thing
We ain't gonna change much
The sun still rises
Even with the pain

I'll tell you one thing
We ain't gonna change, love
The sun still rises
Even through the rain”

October 2012

It felt like living someone else’s life. Someone better. Someone lighter. Happier. More whole. It felt stolen, but so sweet, so easy, it was hard to feel guilty about it. It was more than she’d ever hoped for, meeting Caitlyn. More than she thought she deserved.Ever since she’d met her, every flicker of feeling that had sparked that first night only grew, inch by inch, breath by breath. She’d never known anyone like her. No one had ever looked at her like that. Opening up had always been hard, nearly impossible. But Caitlyn’s gaze, sharp and kind and impossibly blue, was gently tearing down every wall Vi had spent years building. Stone after stone, lie after lie. Caitlyn was dismantling them without even trying. Not with force, but with patience. With those disarming glances that carved through Vi’s armor with the elegance of a scalpel. And Vi could only stand there, powerless, watching herself unravel.

Of course, she tried to fight it. She had to. It was dangerous, being this addicted to someone.
Letting someone hold that kind of power over you, while hiding so much of who you really were. There were things she was keeping buried for a reason.

And it was all happening too fast. Too real. Too much. Sometimes, all she wanted was to run, far away. But it was like one of those dreams, the ones where you try to run, and your legs won’t move, or they drag through molasses, slow and heavy, until escape becomes impossible.

She checked the time on her phone. Still no sign of the guy. Twenty minutes late.

She leaned back against the crumbling wall, arms crossed, stomach tight with unease. She didn’t know him well. They’d met once. He was supposed to buy big, and Vi couldn’t afford to miss the deal. But still; she didn’t like the air tonight. Something felt off. So she waited. Let her mind wander.

To sleek navy-blue hair. To long, careful fingers resting on hers. To a tiny waist she ached to wrap her arms around. To pouting lips and that soft, low voice that got under her skin. All of it, looping in her head. It was exhausting. But she'd lost all control over it, and she knew it.

When the guy finally showed up, she knew something was off.

First red flag: he wasn’t alone. And that wasn’t part of the plan.

Second: his walk. Hesitant. Uneasy.

Vi stepped back immediately, every nerve on high alert.

“Hey,” she called out. “Stay right there.”

He stopped, raised his hands. “Relax, Vi. You know what I’m here for, right?”

“Yeah, I do. So what’s with the company? You trying to pull something?  ’Cause I swear, jackass, I’m not in the mood. And it’s been too long since I broke a jaw.” Her voice was calm. Deadly calm.

The two men kept walking toward her. Their mistake. He handed her the cash, but when she reached for it, he pulled it back.

“The merchandise.”

Vi pulled it from her pocket, let him see it. His eyes lit up. But she didn’t like the look on his face.

“Hmm. Don’t think you brought enough for that,” she said coolly. “Trying to screw me over? Really not smart.”

The men exchanged a quick, silent glance; and their whole posture changed. Angry now. Stupid. The second guy lunged first. She sidestepped easily, but the other grabbed at her from behind. She slammed her elbow into his gut. Felt him double over.

But then, a fist connected with her mouth.

A sharp sting. A taste of blood. Of copper.

Big fucking ring, she noted bitterly.

She snapped.

Vi kicked the guy in front of her, hard; sent him stumbling backward. Then she turned and drove her fist into the other one’s face. Once. Again. Again. He dropped, clutching his nose. Blood everywhere.

The first guy was already running. Coward.

She spat blood on the ground, then delivered one last savage kick to the guy curled up at her feet.

And walked away. Didn’t look back.

She was supposed to meet Caitlyn at the gym tomorrow.

Now she’d have to make up some bullshit story to explain the split lip and swelling she knew would be there. Thanks to these assholes.

******

“What happened to you?”

Of course that was the first thing Caitlyn said when she saw Vi waiting outside the gym. Vi resisted the urge to wince. Yeah, the lip was definitely going to scar, and yeah, that made her furious.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. I had a sparring match with a friend, and it got a little out of hand. But I’m fine. Doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Lie.

“My God, Violet, you really have to be more careful. It looks like it’s going to leave a scar.”

Yeah. She knew that. It already stung with permanence. But hearing Caitlyn’s voice laced with worry made her forget it, just for a second.

“I know. It’s fine. That’s the risk when you’re not paying attention. And hey, might end up being sexy.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Caitlyn frowned.

Okay. So she didn’t find it funny. But... she didn’t say it wouldn’t be sexy, either.

“I strongly disagree. Might even help with the ladies.” Vi shrugged.

“Yeah, like you need the help,” Caitlyn retorted, and seemed to surprise herself.

“You’re right. I don’t.” Vi grinned, cocky now.

Caitlyn nudged her shoulder, smiling.

“Stop being so smug. I came here to kick your ass. Now I barely have the heart to do it.”

Vi let out a loud, unfiltered laugh.

“Come on, then. Show me what you got.”

Vi waited by the punching bag while Caitlyn changed. When she came back, Vi nearly forgot how to breathe.

She wasn’t trying to stare. Really.

But the woman was in tight leggings and a tank top that hugged every inch of her tall, athletic frame.
Those legs. That curve in her lower back. It hurt to look.

“Are you done ogling?” Caitlyn asked, catching her red-handed, eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you gonna teach me or what?”

Vi cleared her throat and tried to reassemble her brain. “Right. Come here.”

Once Caitlyn stood in front of the bag, Vi stepped closer.

“First things first: keep your guard up, always.” She gently took Caitlyn’s wrists, raising her arms into position.

“Now spread your legs a little. Bend your knees. You need to be able to shift your weight and stay mobile.”

She watched as Caitlyn adjusted her stance, focused, graceful. It was... a little intimidating.

“You’re right-handed, yeah?” Caitlyn nodded.

“Okay, then your right foot goes here. Now turn your body slightly to the left.”

She placed her hands on Caitlyn’s hips, guiding her gently. It was only when she pulled back that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Alright. When you punch, don’t just use your arm. Use your whole body. Drive from your core. Let your hips move, but keep your feet steady.”

Caitlyn nodded again, entirely focused now.

“Alright, throw one.”

She did, and the bag moved more than Vi expected.

“Nice. But aim off-center. It’s a hook, not a jab. You want your arm to carve out a half-circle.”

They kept at it for twenty more minutes. Caitlyn was getting really good, really fast. Strong. Precise. A quick learner.

And clearly enjoying herself. Every punch brought a brighter smile to her face. She was in the zone, letting it all out. It was a beautiful sight. After another ten minutes, she was breathless, her long neck glistening with a sheen of sweat.

They sat on a bench, and Caitlyn took a sip from her water bottle.

“So... is there anything you’re not instantly good at?” Vi asked.

“Not really.” Caitlyn grinned.

“I get it now, why you love this. It helps you unwind.”

“So you liked it?” Vi raised an eyebrow.

Caitlyn turned toward her fully, smile dazzling. “I really did, Vi. It’s almost as good as running.”

“You run?”

“Yeah. Track, back in high school. I held the record, actually.” She looked pleased with herself.

“Why am I not surprised?”

They both laughed.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Caitlyn said suddenly, her voice quieter now, sincere.

Vi met her gaze. “I’m glad you came.”

“Next time’s my turn, right?”

“Yeah. If you still want to.”

“Of course I do!” She nudged Vi’s ribs with her finger, teasing. “I can’t wait to see you holding a rifle.”

Vi groaned. “Can you at least wait until I try before making fun of me?”

“I’m really not,” Caitlyn said, laughing, a warm, clear sound that filled Vi’s lungs with something softer than air.

******

“Basically, the girl’s just always trying to undermine me,” Caitlyn was saying, voice sharp with frustration. “It’s like I personally offend her every time I answer a question right, or get a higher grade. Which is, you know, constantly. I can hear her whispering to her little clique in the hallway whenever I walk by. It makes me want to slap her stupid face.”

Caitlyn’s voice rose with uncharacteristic frustration, her fingers wrapped around the ceramic of her coffee mug, the heat barely countering the fire in her tone. Across from her, Vi leaned against the café booth, one arm lazily slung along the backrest, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and admiration. She never tired of Caitlyn’s occasional tirades. The way her perfect diction frayed slightly when she got passionate, or how her delicate features tightened into something fierce. Especially when it involved her school nemesis. A woman who, from what Vi could tell, was either deeply jealous… or something else entirely.

“Well,” Vi said, sipping her hot chocolate with a sigh, “sounds like someone’s hooked.”

Caitlyn blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, that’s textbook. Academic rivalry between two brilliant hotties, all that tension just hiding the attraction. Eventually they cave in, have hate sex so good they fall in love. She’s clearly obsessed with you.”

Not that I can blame her, Vi added silently.

“That is preposterous!” Caitlyn gasped, scandalized.

“Denial doesn’t suit you,” Vi teased, loving how easy it was to get under her skin.

“She’s not even good-looking,” Caitlyn huffed. “She’s just a brat. I couldn’t be less interested.”

Then she added, more quietly, “Besides, I don’t date.”

Vi straightened slightly. “You don’t?”

“No. I don’t have the time or the energy for it. And since my parents fund everything; the apartment, my tuition; there’s sort of... an understanding.”

She made a face when she said understanding, like the word tasted wrong.

“Oh.” Vi frowned. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“What can I say? They want me to stay focused. It’s not as though they expect me to wait until I have a PhD, but… Now that I have some autonomy, I think they just need reassurance. And the truth is, I understand their reasoning. I’m simply not in a place for a relationship at the moment.” Her tone was steady, her convictions clear. She said it like it was a final statement. A line drawn.

“Alright then. To more time with friends!” Vi raised her mug with a grin, bumping it lightly against Caitlyn’s.

She wasn’t sure why the admission felt like such a relief. Maybe because it meant she wouldn’t have to watch Caitlyn fall for someone else.

Caitlyn clinked her coffee mug against Vi’s and smiled. “Your turn,” she said. Of course. The woman never let anything slide.

Vi smirked. “The only agreements I have are with myself, thanks.”

“You know what I mean, Violet.”

The way she said her name; calm, steady, low; Vi felt it hum down her spine.

“I don’t date either,” she replied, with a casual shrug.

“Why not?”

Because I never have. Because I hate being touched. Because the only person I could even imagine wanting is sitting in front of me, sipping black coffee and looking like the sun broke through a storm cloud just for her.

“I don’t know,” she said out loud. “Guess it’s just not for me. I’ve got responsibilities. I like my freedom. I’m not interested.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly. Then raised her mug again, bright smile back in place.

“To more time with friends, then!”

Vi clinked her cup against hers again.

“And more time to hook up with random strangers and never call them back!”

Caitlyn laughed, eyes sparkling. “Are we terrible people?”

“Nah,” Vi grinned. “We’re just too good for this world.”

******

November 2012

A chilly breeze saturated the air as Vi stood in the outdoor shooting range, her hands deep in her jacket pocket, her black beanie covering most of her hair. Her breath fogged in the chill air. They were on Kiramman property and the place was so well-maintained and vast it made Vi feel out of place and tiny. But, as it always did, the presence of the woman in front of her, with her focused eyes and limbs stretched in firing position made all other unwelcome thoughts vanish. Violet felt unable to tear her eyes of her, nothing new here. She wasn’t just stupendously hot, she was like a piece of art, a sculpture made out of the most precious material. Even the wind respected her, brushing past her like a servant. Nothing existed. Life’s usual rush had stopped it’s course. The sound of the mild wind faded into silence, the chirping of the birds was gone. The moment ran in slow motion.

The loud gunshot pierced through the air and startled Vi, who’d been entirely lost in the vision of Caitlyn Kiramman. Violet turned to take a look at the target and, sure enough, there was a hole right in the middle of it. Bullseye.

 A perfect shot. A perfect girl. Caitlyn turned toward Vi with the upmost smugness in her expression.

“Here.” She said with a low voice, handing the weapon to Vi.

Vi took the rifle, the weight throwing her off balance for a second.

“It’s… heavier than I thought.” She uttered in a short breath.

“You’ll get used to it. Get in position.” Her sharp gaze fixated on Vi.

Violet settled in awkwardly. Caitlyn stepped in - very close - and whispered at her ear.

“Spread your feet a little more. Bend your knees.”

Vi adjusted. The taller woman placed a hand on the small of her back to fix her stance.

“Like this?” she asked, slightly shaking. She could feel the girl’s warm breath against her neck. Her heart was a riot in her chest.

“Yeah. Stay like that.”

She slid her hand down Vi’s arm, adjusting the grip on the rifle. When she spoke again, she was soft but firm. Every touch lit a fire under her skin.

“Relax your shoulders. If you tense up, you’ll miss.”

Vi took a deep breath,

“Okay.” Almost a whisper.

When Caitlyn moved behind her, her chest nearly brushed her back. Her fingers ghosted over the trigger. Then, she murmured at her ear again.

“Look through the scope. Line up the reticle with the target.”

Violet raised the rifle, breath hitching at how close the utterly magnificent woman was. Her next sentence was barely audible

“It’s blurry…”

“There. Better?” she said as she adjusted the scope.

“Yeah…” Vi’s voice was slightly rough.

Then, her hand moved down to Vi’s wrist, correcting the angle.

“Breathe. Inhale… exhale… shoot between breaths. Watch out for the recoil.” She said, low and kind.

Vi tried to do just that, but her breath was jittery.

“Steady. I’m right here.” Caitlyn’s dusky voice at her ear again. It wasn’t helping her. At all.

Vi pressed the trigger too quickly, and naturally missed the shot.

“Damn it!” she hissed, gritting her teeth.

Caitlyn’s hand slid over her arm once more, steadying the rifle.

“You’re shooting like your life depends on it… Relax.” She was obviously amused by Vi’s predicament.

“Easy for you to say.” The pink haired girl exhaled. Their faces were so close, almost touching.

“Then let me help you.” Fuck.

She placed her hands over Vi’s, guiding the rifle. She felt her next words against her skin.

“Now. Breathe.”

Vi closes her eyes for a second, relishing in the feeling the goddess’s breath on her cheek.

“Shoot.”

Vi pulled the trigger. This time, the shot was clean, centered.

“Did I… hit it?” she was stunned.

Caitlyn smiled with gleaming eyes.

“Not bad… but I did most of the work.” Her voice was low, sending shivers down Vi’s spine.

“You’re insufferable.” She shot with a nervous laugh.

“You don’t really mind, do you?” her intense gaze was almost vulnerable. Vi met her eyes, and for a moment, neither of them looked away.

******

Vi stood behind her, watching the elegant line of Caitlyn’s back as she rifled through her purse for her keys. The bag of groceries weighed down her arm, but it was nothing compared to the heavy, humming ache in her chest. Her eyes betrayed her, trailing far too often to the sway of Caitlyn’s hips, the effortless poise of her posture, the sway of her dark hair catching flecks of winter light. Vi’s nerves danced in her stomach like moths to a flame. She was about to step into Caitlyn’s apartment for the first time. Into her space, her quiet, her scent, her world. A place she’d let herself imagine, sure, but never dared to believe she’d actually see.

But apparently, the universe had decided to throw her a bone. She wasn’t about to question it.

The door swept open with a soft click, and Caitlyn turned to offer her a smile; simple, sincere, disarming; and Vi stepped inside like she was stepping into a painting.

The apartment was larger than anywhere she’d ever lived, and yet… smaller than she had expected. Not in size, no, but in the intimacy of it. The warmth. The softness. A vast living room stretched out before her in pale colors and delicate balance, with a beige couch facing a sleek wooden coffee table and a wide TV. Green plants clung to floating shelves behind it like quiet witnesses to the life unfolding here. To the left, the kitchen opened in a pristine display of modern lines and calm elegance. And beyond it all, immense windows revealed the city like a sleeping beast, the balcony's glass door standing like a gateway to the skyline.

“Wow,” Vi breathed.

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Caitlyn offered as Vi set the groceries down on the counter.

Vi barely had time to nod before Caitlyn took her hand, just like that, and squeezed it, warm and confident. Her heart fluttered violently in response. The woman led her toward a hallway nestled in the corner, her fingers never once letting go of Vi’s. A long, clean corridor stretched ahead, flanked by two doors. Caitlyn pushed open the first one on the right.

It opened onto a bright, tidy office.

“Welcome to my office.” she announced with a proud little smile. “I work here most of the time, unless I have long readings, then I migrate to the couch.”

Sunlight beamed through tall windows, bathing the room in pale gold. Towering bookshelves flanked either wall, brimming with volumes that looked well-worn and well-loved. A beautiful wooden desk sat beneath the window, paired with a chair so ergonomic it almost seemed sinful. Everything was meticulously ordered, but not sterile. It was lived-in brilliance.

“No wonder you get top grades,” Vi said, genuinely impressed.

“Please. The room is just aesthetics. The genius is all me,” Caitlyn teased.

“I bet,” Vi smirked.

Back in the hallway, they made their way to the second door.

“And this is... my bedroom,” Caitlyn announced, a touch more timid this time.

She opened the door with a shy, unassuming air, and Vi had to fight not to gasp. The space was expansive, minimal and bright, crowned with an enormous white bed like something out of a dream. A sleek, open dressing room curved along the right wall, clothes aligned with military precision.

 “Shit, can I try the bed? I’m begging you,” Vi half-joked.

“Go ahead,” Caitlyn said, smiling.

Vi flopped onto the bed, and a groan escaped her lips. It was like falling into a cloud spun from silk and moonlight. The mattress gave just enough, enfolding her completely. She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, Caitlyn was lying beside her, and the world shifted.

Just like that, every breath in Vi’s lungs vanished.

Their eyes met, and everything slowed. It was one of those dangerous silences, humming with tension, magnetic and charged and impossibly soft. Every flutter in Vi’s chest, every wordless hope, seemed to thrum louder in that stillness There was probably no need to go on about the trillion butterflies flapping their wings inside Vi’s chest, they were practically lifting her off the mattress.

“Damn. You must sleep like a baby in this thing.”

“I sleep well anywhere. But yes, this helps.” Caitlyn’s voice was soft. Almost shy.

Caitlyn turned her head toward her, and for a split second, their eyes locked. Just one second. That was always enough.

They were too close. No matter how big the bed was, their bodies had somehow drifted close enough to touch.

Caitlyn sat up abruptly and walked to the door.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you coming?”

Vi nodded. Her vocal chords had long since been swallowed by the butterflies previously mentioned.

After a detour through the stunning bathroom; with its elegant tub and shower (because, of course); they ended up in the kitchen. Vi began unpacking the ingredients, and Caitlyn helped gather the utensils.

Vi cooked while Caitlyn perched at the counter, sipping lemonade and watching her.

They chatted easily, about everything and nothing, as Vi stirred the sauce for the spaghetti.

“It smells amazing,” Caitlyn said, her voice suddenly right next to Vi’s ear. Her breath brushed Vi’s ear, sending goosebumps down her neck. Vi’s heart gave a helpless, traitorous stutter.

There would come a day when her heart would simply stop working. She was sure of it.

“Thanks. But let the chef work, would you? You’re spoiling the surprise,” Vi said, half-joking.

Caitlyn huffed dramatically. “That’s ridiculous. I know what you’re making. Or is this your secret plan to poison me?”

“Oh, you sweet thing.” Vi flashed a grin. “If I wanted to poison you, I’d have done it ages ago. No, my evil plan is to spoil you to death. I’m a dangerous woman like that.”

She threw her a look and wiggled her eyebrows.

It worked. Caitlyn flushed, turning pink in the cheeks. God, Vi lived for that.

When she finally placed the dish in front of Caitlyn, the woman’s face lit up.

“Voilà!” Vi said proudly, sitting across from her.

Caitlyn took a bite, paused, then shut her eyes and hummed.

“Mmm… Okay. You weren’t exaggerating. This is amazing.”

Vi watched her, unable to look away.

Vi laughed. “Glad you like it.”

“I really do,” Caitlyn replied through another bite, mouth full.

“Watch your manners. What would Cassandra think?”

“Do you see her anywhere?”

“I am still here and not running for the hills… so that should tell you something.”

Caitlyn chuckled. Vi grabbed the salt and gave it a few vigorous shakes over her plate.

“What are you doing?! Stop that!” Caitlyn exclaimed, scandalized.

“What?”

“Shaking that like—like some sort of salt junkie!”

“What’s wrong with being a salt junkie?” Vi burst out laughing.

“Excessive consumption of sodium chloride leads to high blood pressure and significantly increases the risk of heart attack and stroke. Not to mention kidney dysfunction and water retention.” She said it like she was reciting the commandments.

Vi stared at her, slack-jawed. Caitlyn looked deadly serious.

“And it spoils the food!” she added, louder, exasperated.

“Okay, okay.” Vi put the salt shaker down, hands raised in surrender.

That woman was insane.

And God, she adored her.

******

December 2012

Vi stood in front of Caitlyn’s door, her hands clammy despite the winter air. She’d been here before, a few times, even; but the flutter in her chest hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had only grown sharper, meaner, more electric. She felt like an idiot. Just a dumb, nervous, useless lesbian in beige pants and a black button-up, trying not to look like she was trying too hard. But she was. God, she was. The shirt hugged her arms in just the right way, a subtle flex of something she couldn’t say aloud; a hope maybe, a whisper of want.

This wasn’t Christmas. Not the real one, not yet. But it was their version of it, just the two of them. A quiet dinner before Caitlyn vanished into her family’s world of snow-covered estates and candlelit halls. Vi didn’t bring her gift. It wasn’t time. It would come later, on the 25th, like she’d planned. A private moment for something too much, too tender. Tonight, she only carried a bouquet of flowers, a gesture small enough not to betray her heart.

She took a deep breath and gently knocked on the door. Footsteps approached; light, familiar; and her heart sang.

“Hello, Violet.” Caitlyn smiled tenderly, and Vi’s heart screamed, the traitorous bastard.

“Hi,” she muttered, awkwardly holding out a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Oh my God, you didn’t have to! Thank you,” Caitlyn said, her voice like velvet.

Vi just stood there, brain half-fried, making no move to step inside. Caitlyn gave her that adorable, puzzled look. Yes, Vi had noticed the elegant red dress. Of course she had. The way it clung to Caitlyn’s waist, the subtle curve of her hips, the quiet fire it lit in her. And then (stupid, dangerous brain) a flash: her fingers bunching that fabric up in fists, tearing it open, Caitlyn gasping under her, flushed and pliant. Her body arching, her name a broken thing on parted lips.

It lasted half a second. But it left her shaken. And how Caitlyn couldn’t see it, how bad Vi wanted her, was the real mystery.

“Come on in.” Caitlyn stepped aside. Get it together, dickhead. God, she smelled incredible.

She made her way to the kitchen, her friend on toe. The scent hit her immediately; rich, savory, impossible to ignore. Butter and garlic, maybe thyme. A slow-cooked turkey, its skin glazed to perfection, filled the air with warm, meaty comfort. She picked up hints of roasted potatoes, earthy and crisp, cut through by the sweetness of caramelized onions. Something tangy, too. Cranberry sauce, she guessed. And the gentle, nutty undertone of green beans sautéed in oil, possibly sesame. Her stomach growled, but it wasn’t just hunger. It was the sudden, aching weight of domesticity, of being welcomed, wanted.

“Did you make all this?” Vi asked, narrowing her eyes at Caitlyn.

“Sure,” Caitlyn replied, except her tone betrayed her.

“Cait?” Vi raised a brow.

“Okay, fine, I didn’t make it, per se. I had it made.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that.” Vi chuckled.

“Well, I figured it was better than serving you burnt turkey, undercooked beans, and spongy pastries, and—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You could’ve made me a bowl of cereal and it would still be perfect.” Okay, that was too much, Violet. Chill. A shy smile and flushed cheeks followed, and this time, she didn’t care.

“Well, have a seat.”

They began to eat in silence. Caitlyn’s hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and Vi’s fingers twitched with the ache to run through it, to cup her face, to brush her thumb along that sharp cheekbone, to press her lips to that mouth…

“Is everything okay?” Caitlyn asked. Damn it. She was staring again.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. The food’s... really good.” Vi’s throat caught. “And... you’re really beautiful tonight, Caitlyn. I mean, the dress. But also you. Not that you aren’t beautiful every other day, you’re always elegant and classy, I just… you dressed up, and I noticed. That’s all. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. Just... thought you should know.”

Disaster.

She should just leave. Stand up, walk out the door, vanish. Curl up under the table and die a quiet, noble death. She was sure she’d just said the dumbest thing in her life.

Caitlyn stared at her, lips parted, pupils wide. She didn’t say a word. Vi was drowning in a puddle of her own shame.

Then Caitlyn shook her head, gaze dropping to her plate.

“Thank you. You’re… not so bad yourself,” she murmured.

Deflect. Now, Violet.

“So… are you excited to spend Christmas with your parents?”

“Yes. I always loved celebrating with them. All our little rituals. It’s when we’ve always felt the closest.”

“That’s good. What about your friends? Did you already have a dinner with them, or…?”

“No. I’ll see them during the holidays. Our families run in the same circles, we usually end up at the same dinner tables sooner or later.”

Something Vi would never get to be part of. It was obvious, but it still stung. And she couldn’t explain why in a way that would make sense out loud.

“What about you? What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Oh, you know. Just the four of us. Slightly better meal than usual. Half of us only care about the presents anyway,” she said with a shaky laugh. “But the part we really love is New Year’s Eve. We party hard, but it's not just that. Being together when the year ends and a new one begins… it means something to us. Like, whoever you’re with in that moment, that’s who you carry into the next year with you. If that makes any sense.”

“It does. I get that. I love that moment too. I’ll actually be back by the 31st.”

“Cool. What are you planning?”

“Mel and Jayce will probably drag me to some nightclub. I’ll hate almost every second, but at least I’ll be with them. What about you?”

“The Last Drop. It’s a bar my foster father used to own. A friend runs it now. We always go there when we have something to celebrate.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was something in Caitlyn’s expression, hard to read, but definitely there. Disappointment?

“I would’ve… I mean, it would’ve been great to celebrate with you. And your friends. But—”

“You don’t have to explain, Vi. I get it. You want to be with your family. Maybe next time, we can find a way to do it together.”

“It’s not that, Caitlyn…”

“Then what is it?”

“The Last Drop is… well, it’s on the South Side.”

“Oh.” The single syllable landed like a stone.

“Yeah. So…”

“Is that a problem for you?”

“No, no, I just meant… I’d love for you to come. But I can’t exactly ask you and your friends to head into, you know, the dark side.” Vi chuckled, awkwardly.

Now Caitlyn looked almost… hurt.

“We could come,” she said firmly.

“What?” Vi blinked.

“I know how it sounds. And yeah, I’ve never been there before. But only because I never had a reason to. I do now.”

She held Vi’s gaze with those searing cerulean eyes, and the room spun. Vi was the reason.

“Are you serious?”

“I am. We’re not going to get killed, right?” She laughed. “Besides, I’m not even a little afraid. I know you’ll be there to protect me.”

That bright, confident grin was slowly melting Vi’s insides.

“Damn right I will. That would be… great, actually. Sometimes it starts with a trivia game. Winning puts you in a good mood, so…”

“Oh, it definitely will. I’ll talk to Jayce and Mel and let you know.” Her face was radiant with what could only be happiness.

“Perfect.”

“Now, because I can’t wait another second, I hereby declare it officially present time!” Caitlyn clapped her hands, beaming.

“Fine, but I have to warn you…I don’t have a gift for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay—”

“Yet. You’re going to have to wait. You’ll get it when the time is right.”

“Why wouldn’t now be the right time?”

“Oh, it is. For me to get my gift. But you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said, without hesitation, eyes deep and sure.

How they always did that; going from playful to profound in a heartbeat, leaving the air around them thick with something unspoken; was beyond Vi. But it burned through her, every single time.

“Wait here.” Caitlyn stood and disappeared into the other room.

When she returned, she handed Vi a neatly wrapped package, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

She carefully tore the wrapping paper, revealing a dark red motorcycle jacket.

Not just any jacket, this was real leather, supple and heavy, with a smooth matte finish. The kind that smelled faintly of smoke and city wind, of polished metal and engine heat. The color was deep, almost blood-red, and the lining inside was soft to the touch, a warm contrast to the armor-like outer shell. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was her. Raw, bold, alive. A piece of her that Caitlyn had somehow seen clearly enough to wrap in ribbon.

“Cait…” Vi breathed, stunned. Emotion bubbled in her throat, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

“Do you like it?” Caitlyn asked, her voice suddenly unsure.

“It’s beautiful. Cait, this is amazing. It’s too much, you—you shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, I’m not used to… I don’t even know what to say…” Her voice shook.

Words weren’t enough. So her body answered for her.

She stepped close, wrapped her arms around Caitlyn’s waist, placed a hand gently between her shoulder blades, and held her close. The other woman froze a moment, then slowly circled her arms around Vi’s neck and pulled her in.

“Thank you,” Vi whispered into the crook of Caitlyn’s neck.

Her lips were so close to that soft, ivory skin. The desire to kiss it, breathe it in, taste it—was overwhelming. But she didn’t. Somehow, she didn’t.

She just stayed there, where everything felt like home.

“You’re welcome, Vi,” Caitlyn whispered into her ear, her voice thick and warm.

They stayed like that a long moment, bodies pressed together, hearts loud. Tether in a silence too intimate for words. Neither moved. Neither wanted the fire to end.

******

It was early morning on the 25th. Dawn still lingered shyly behind the frost-laced windows, and the house wore the leftovers of joy like scattered confetti; half-empty glasses, torn wrapping paper, ribbons dangling off the edge of the couch. They’d laughed the night before, loud and unfiltered, Mylo’s voice cracking from too much wine and too many dumb jokes, Powder flushed with delight as she tore through her gifts, and Vi… Vi felt lighter than air. Airborne.

Powder had noticed the shift in her sister over the last three months.

“What happened to you?” she’d asked as she flopped onto the couch beside her.

“What do you mean?” Vi replied innocently.

“You’ve got that goofy smile stuck on your stupid face. Like you’ve got rainbows shootin’ outta your butthole or something.”

“I’m just happy, Pow.” She snorted.

“Since when??”

Vi had only laughed and let it go. Of course, she knew exactly when it had started. She just didn’t feel the need to say it. Not yet. Not while Vi was still carefully balancing every piece of her life on a house of cards. She’d have to soon enough, despite her best efforts to keep every part of her life sealed in its own box, they were about to collide. The South Side and the North Side. In six days, to be precise. But for now, she was still bracing for that. There was something else to do. Something that mattered more than caution.

She didn’t have time to clean. It didn’t matter. She’d do it when she got back. Right now, she had a forty-five-minute drive to the Kiramman estate upstate.

She got dressed, then headed to her room to retrieve her treasure for the day.

She opened the drawer and pulled out the envelope, the postcard, and the tickets she’d bought for Caitlyn. Sliding them from the plain white envelope, she took one last look.

Two tickets to see Ludovico Einaudi, a world-renowned pianist, known for his minimalist, emotional style. He’d be performing in the city in a few weeks. Vi loved his music. The man could make silence ring. And she knew—knew—that Caitlyn would, too.

She’d bought an extra ticket. So Caitlyn could bring someone else. Whoever she wanted.

Vi dreamed of being the one sitting beside her. But more than anything, she just didn’t want Caitlyn to go alone. She wanted her to share it. That was the whole point. It didn’t really matter with whom. Or so she told herself.

The postcard showed a magnificent black piano standing alone in a snow-covered field, under a grey, quiet sky. She flipped it and wrote, in her tight, scratchy handwriting:

Caitlyn,

Two for the price of one, so you can share this with anyone you want.

I hope you’ll enjoy this moment, and that I’ll attend the private concert you’ll give me soon.

Merry Christmas, beautiful.

Vi.

She slipped the card and the tickets back into the envelope, sealed it, wrote Caitlyn Kiramman on the front with reverence, and tucked it carefully into the inside pocket of her jacket.

Then she grabbed Benzo’s car keys, started the engine, and hit the road.

On her way to the estate, this unreachable place she’d never seen before, she wondered for the millionth time if she was doing too much. The drive was long enough for her nerves to chew holes in her resolves. She was always afraid to overstep. To let that overwhelming love she felt turn into something too loud, too obvious, too much, and ruin everything.

But the need to make Caitlyn happy outweighed everything else. She could always backtrack. Find a way to fix things if it went too far.

Okay, so maybe driving an hour and a half on Christmas Day to stick something in someone’s mailbox was a little extreme.

So what?

She’d never imagined she could act like this. And yet…here she was.

When she arrived, the gate alone was enough to make her feel out of place. Massive, intricate ironwork. The mansion was still far in the distance, down an endless tree-lined path. But she had no business going further. She was only here for the mailbox.

Even that was fancy as shit.

She inhaled slowly, trying to calm the restless beat of her heart. Then, after what felt like an eternity of hesitation, she slid the envelope inside.

She stood there a moment longer, just staring. What the hell was she doing?

Get a grip, Violet. You’re a grown-ass adult. Twenty years old, and acting like some idiot teenage girl.

She shook her head and turned away, slipping back into the car with a heartbeat too loud in her chest. She pulled off the property without looking back, heading home. The tires spun on gravel as she drove off, heart thudding like she’d just detonated something small and irreversible.

******

She’d had time to clean the house, make and eat breakfast before anyone else woke up. They all enjoyed a lazy morning, Powder was on the couch, playing Assassin’s Creed III, the video game Vi had given her the day before. Vi and Ekko flanked her, commenting on every scene, sharing the discovery like it was sacred.

When Benzo finally dragged himself out of bed and shuffled into the room, emerging like a bear from hibernation, Vi took it as her cue.

“Okay, Pow, can you pause for a sec? Guys, I need to talk to you about something.”

“...Ow-kay?” Powder looked confused, but they all turned toward her. It was the first time she’d done something like this. She had no idea how to begin.

So she stood up, and started pacing.

“Thanks. Okay, so… I have some friends, uh… you don’t know them. And, um…they’re gonna be at The Last Drop with us on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s cool, Vi!” Ekko said with a grin.

“I fail to see the problem here,” Powder added, already squinting suspiciously.

“Well, the thing is… it’s gonna sound weird, but… they kinda think I’m in college.”

Silence.

And then, Powder and Ekko burst into laughter. Of course they did.

“What—what the fuck, Vi?” Ekko wheezed, bent over.

“How do they believe that? You moron! Did you tell them you study beer pong and street fighting 101?” Powder cried, wiping tears from her cheeks.

Vi buried her face in her hands. “It’s… a long story. All I’m asking is that you play along, okay? I’ll fix it. Soon. But for now, just pretend like I go to university or whatever, and everything will be fine!”

“What are you even supposed to be studying?” Powder asked, utterly incredulous.

“I don’t know! I never told her…”

“Wait. Her?? This whole thing is for a girl?” Now she was practically shouting.

“No, no, it’s not—”

“Oh fuck, I can’t believe it! Who are you, and what have you done with my gloomy sister with the death stare and a pathological fear of commitment?!”

“Pow, it’s not what you think, okay?”

But she wasn’t listening. Not even a little bit.

“Oh my God, that’s why you’ve been bouncing around like some happy goblin idiot for months now!”

“I’m begging you…” Vi sounded like a ten-year-old, on the verge of tears.

“Alright, alright, Fat Hands, I’ll play along. If only for the pure joy of watching you act like a lesbian puppy in love, I will.”

“Thanks. I already told Mylo, so… everything should roll smoothly.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I got your back.” Powder winked.

“Yeah, you know it, Vi. Your secret’s safe with me,” Ekko added, smirking.

Benzo, who’d been sitting silently this whole time, just grunted like he couldn’t care less.

“That’s fine with me, kiddo.”

She hadn’t been worried about him, anyway. She didn’t know if he would be joining them or not. But…better safe than sorry.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, genuinely.

******

As the afternoon wore on, Vi couldn’t wait any longer. She unlocked her phone and texted Caitlyn.

Vi
If you’re ready for your present, check the mailbox ;)

The hours that followed were agony. Nothing. No sign of her.

Until late afternoon.

Vi’s phone rang, and the world stopped when she saw the name on the screen. Caitlyn was calling. She just stared at it, mouth open like a fucking fish. Oh right. Phones. You press the green button. Genius.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice unsteady.

“Vi.” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, like she was holding something delicate.

“Hi Cait. How’s it going?” she tried to sound casual. Normal. Chill. She was none of those things.

“I, um… I got your present.”

“Okay.”

“I just… I don’t even know what to say, it’s… it’s amazing.” Vi could hear it, Caitlyn was moved. She could feel it, even through the static.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“No. It’s more than that. I… I love it. I really do.”

“Well, that’s even better. I figured you might. The guy’s a magician on a keyboard.”

“Will you come with me?” She rushed the words like they might vanish if she hesitated.

“You know this wasn’t a trick, right? You can bring whoever you want. I just wanted you to enjoy it. That’s all.” Vi needed her to understand that. It was vital.

“I know. But I’d really love to go with you. If you want to.”

“Yeah. Of course I’ll go with you.” She almost whispered it.

“I’m happy to hear that. Really.”

Then a pause.

“But… I have to ask. How did you even do this?”

“I don’t follow…”

“There’s no mail on Christmas Day, Vi,” Caitlyn said, a soft smile in her breath.

“I know that, Cait.”

“Did you…did you come all the way up here?”

“How else was I supposed to do it?” Vi teased gently.

“I can’t believe it…”

“Was it too much?” Suddenly unsure.

“No! Of course not.” Caitlyn almost sounded offended.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Alright.”

“You are… something else.” Vi had no idea what to say to that. Nothing felt right.

“How was your day?” Caitlyn asked instead, sparing her the answer.

“Like a day spent playing video games…so, awesome. What about you?”

“It’s been lovely. We took a long walk through the snowy forest near my parents’ estate. Then we sat by the fire and talked for hours.”

“That sounds… amazing.”

“It was. Oh—and I talked to Jayce and Mel. We’ll be there on the 31st, if that’s still okay?”

“Yeah. Of course it is.”

“Good.”

“I’m… really happy I get to spend it with you.”

“Me too.”

“Have a great night, Caitlyn.”

“You too, Violet. See you soon.”

“Hope so, beautiful.”

Vi ended the call and stood there, staring at the screen, the ghost of Caitlyn’s voice still brushing against her skin like the warmth of a remembered kiss.

Hanging up felt like tearing the breath straight from her lungs.

Chapter Text

Flora Cash

“Well, you look like yourself
But you're somebody else
Only it ain't on the surface
Well, you talk like yourself
No, I hear someone else though
Now you're making me nervous”

December 31^st 2012

Time is relative to the observer. It is elastic. Not the measured tick of a clock, but the felt sense of time. The heartbeat kind. The kind that stretches or collapses depending on who stands beside you, who you think of when your eyes drift closed, whose laughter rewires the rhythm of your days. In that way, the last three months had passed in a blur. A glittering, breathless blur, like falling through a beam of light and never quite landing.

Some things settle into your life so swiftly, so seamlessly, it feels like they’ve always been there. As if they’d been waiting in the wings, ready to fill the spaces you didn’t even know were empty. Filling empty corners like water finds its level. They bring you what you lacked, soften your flaws until they feel less like faults and more like puzzle edges, waiting for the right piece.

They ease the weight off your shoulders without asking. Make the burden feel lighter, as if it was never really yours alone to carry. And suddenly, you are enough. Not in spite of your name, or your money, or your past, but regardless of them. The future stops mattering quite so much. The present becomes vivid, consuming. And once Caitlyn discovered how liberating it felt to live inside that moment, she doubted she’d ever be able to give it up. Vi didn’t erase Caitlyn’s flaws; she absorbed them.

Even her parents had noticed the change. During the holidays, they’d asked her more than once what had made her so… light-hearted. So open. Her mother, especially, had watched her with quiet suspicion, as if joy itself was a riddle she was determined to solve. But really, nothing significant had changed. Caitlyn still held the same convictions, the same values. Her concerns were intact. On paper, her life was unchanged. Except for her. The mysterious, kind, sharp, impossibly warm girl she’d met by chance, and who had settled into her world like she belonged there.

For the first time in her life, Caitlyn didn’t need logic to make sense of something. Vi simply did.

It was such a small shift. One person couldn’t possibly change the course of a life in just a few months… Could she?

In 1972, Edward Lorenz had asked a similar question: Can the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil cause a tornado in Texas? It was meant as a scientific metaphor; Chaos Theory applied to weather prediction. But Caitlyn couldn’t help thinking how elegantly it applied to other things.

The Butterfly Effect speaks to the power of subtle beginnings. One small shift in initial conditions, and suddenly, nothing is the same.

She knew it might sound ridiculous. But she felt it in her bones. Violet Lane was her own personal Butterfly Effect. One small flutter of her wings had sparked a storm in Caitlyn’s chest.

And nothing had ever scared her more.

Because the more afraid she was, the more she needed it. Craved it.

When that breathtaking woman had pulled her close after unwrapping her gift… she’d lost her words. The emotional chain reaction had been instant and unstoppable. A storm building behind her ribs, a current humming beneath her skin. Heart racing, breath shallow, her whole body lit up by the charge from Vi’s fingertips tracing her back. Giddy, dizzy, drunk on the scent of her. And beneath it all, a yearning so fierce it barely felt survivable. A need to be close. To fold into her. To melt and merge until the ache finally quieted.

Vi made her laugh. Made her feel safe. Like she could speak freely, be anyone, be herself, without fear of being judged or too much. As if she could lay every piece of herself bare, and still be held gently.

One thing was clear now: Vi could never be casual. Touching her, tasting her, even thinking of crossing that line… it would be a point of no return. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Couldn’t treat it like something simple. Just sleeping with her wasn’t an option. And yet, she’d imagined it more times than she cared to admit.

She had turned the question over and over in her mind, until the answer crystallized: Keep her close. Stay in the warmth of her orbit as long as possible. But don’t cross the line.

She didn’t want a relationship. Not now. Probably not ever. And Vi, for her part, seemed to feel the same.

So that settled it. So they would stay here. In the in-between. Where the warmth was constant, and the danger stayed at bay.

It didn’t soothe the frustration clawing at her, but at least it gave her something to hold onto.
It allowed her to have Vi, really have her, without losing sight of the ground beneath her feet. Without forgetting how fragile it all was.

Besides, there was still so much she didn’t know. Vi was a secretive, measured creature. She deflected with charm, and her silences spoke volumes. She was always quick to mask what stirred underneath. But Caitlyn could wait. She had nothing but time.

She glanced at her reflection one last time and decided she was ready.

A black turtleneck, a burgundy skirt, sheer black tights. Her curved leather jacket would complete the look. Her ponytail was high and precise. Her blue eyes outlined just enough to catch the light, not demand it. She felt… pretty. It helped. Made her stand taller. Quieted the nerves twisting in her stomach.

It was just a New Year’s party. Just a bar, just drinks. Except it wasn’t. It was a neighborhood she didn’t know, people she didn’t know. And worst of all, Vi’s family. People Caitlyn couldn’t hope to impress with charm or grades or last names. She was terrified of not belonging. Of standing out in the wrong way. But she was excited too. To see Vi. To meet her sister.

Vi would be there. And wherever Vi was, she belonged.

Back in the living room, Mel and Jayce were chatting while waiting for her. They hadn’t been thrilled about coming at first, but Caitlyn didn’t make these kinds of requests often, and they’d relented without too much fuss.

“Can’t wait to meet the girl who’s been ruthlessly stealing you from us, Sprout,” Jayce grinned. “She must be something.”

“I saw her only for a second,” Mel added with a feline smile, “but I can already tell she’s gorgeous.”

“She’s a good person,” Caitlyn replied. “A great friend. Just… different from what we’re used to.”

“What did you say her major was again?” Jayce asked, frowning.

“I… don’t actually know,” Caitlyn admitted. “She’s not doing great in school, apparently.”

“Hmm.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Still strange. If she was at the party, I should’ve seen her. Or at least heard of her.”

“Well,” Mel cut in, “you’ll probably figure it out tonight. Can we go now?”

“Yes. Do I look alright?” Caitlyn asked, half-joking, half-hopeful.

Jayce rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously asking?”

“You’re stunning as always, darling,” Mel said warmly.

They spoke at the same time, and the three of them laughed together before heading toward the door.

******

It felt strange, driving through this side of the city. The buildings were older, more worn, tattooed with layers of graffiti and the grime of years left behind. Everything seemed smaller, darker—poorer, to state the obvious. Caitlyn found herself silently grateful for not having let her parents buy her one of those flashy, painfully new cars.

They parked in a dim lot and walked a few blocks until the bar appeared, its name burning bright in yellow neon: The Last Drop. Not packed, but far from empty.

Vi was already outside, waiting near the mostly deserted terrace, save for a few smokers huddled in corners. Caitlyn forgot the cold the moment her eyes found her. She looked…breathtaking. Just a touch more makeup than usual, making her icy blue eyes gleam like distant beacons in a storm.

“Hey, Cait!” Vi greeted her with a hug, short-lived, but full-bodied. Caitlyn clung to the warmth for a heartbeat longer than she should have. When Vi let go, it left a chill in its place.

“Hello, Vi! It’s good to see you.” She meant it more than she could say.

“This is my friend Jayce. And I think you’ve already met Mel?”

“Yeah, of course. Nice to meet you guys. Thanks for coming,” Vi said, suddenly shy, her usual bravado dimmed by something tender.

“It’s a pleasure, Vi. Really,” Mel said, ever-sincere.

“You do look familiar, now that I see you,” Jayce added, squinting a little.

“Yeah, we’ve probably crossed paths,” Vi replied quickly. “You must be freezing. Let’s go in?”

“Lead the way,” Caitlyn smiled.

Inside, faint music floated through the warm-lit room. The Last Drop had the kind of rough charm that didn’t try to impress anyone. The walls were lined with cracked brick and scuffed wood, stained by years of smoke and stories. Strings of mismatched fairy lights flickered across the ceiling like a half-forgotten holiday, casting soft amber glows over the bar. A mural stretched across the back wall, an abstract explosion of colors and symbols, half graffiti, half fever dream.

The place smelled of old leather, beer, and a hint of something fried. The bar itself was chipped and battered, but the stools around it were full. Laughter rang out in uneven bursts, tangled with the low thrum of bass from the speakers and the occasional clink of glass. There was no dress code, no pretense; just people, some broken, some loud, some alone, but all gathered in the same warmth. Near the back, the booths were sunken and scarred, carved over with initials and inside jokes from patrons long gone. The kind of place that remembered everyone who ever sat in it. The kind of place that never judged.

Caitlyn took it all in slowly, the texture of it so foreign to her world, and yet not unwelcoming. It felt… real.  And it suited Vi. It was Vi. A little rough. A little wild. Honest. And strangely comforting.

Vi guided them to a large booth where three figures waited; a girl with two vivid blue braids, a boy with white dreadlocks and an easy smile, and a wiry guy with the most improbable hair Caitlyn had ever seen.

“Guys, this is Caitlyn. And her friends, Jayce and Mel,” Vi said. “And this is my sister, Powder. Our friends, Ekko and Mylo.”

Powder’s hair was as bright as her presence; loud, vivid, unmistakable. Ekko’s features were sharp, his skin deep brown, and his smile effortlessly magnetic. And then there was Mylo, already sprawled out like the world owed him space.

“Wow. So this is the famous Caitlyn?” Powder grinned. “Vi, how the hell did you not tell us your new friend was stupidly hot?”

“Don’t start, Pow,” Vi groaned.

“Oh no, she’s right,” Mel chimed in, amused. “Don’t shut her up for stating facts.”

Her hand brushed Vi’s shoulder as she spoke. Vi flinched, barely, but visibly. Her entire posture tensed for a split second, regret flashing across her features.

“Sorry,” Vi mumbled.

“Oh yeah, don’t take it personally,” Powder chimed in. “She just hates being touched. That’s my lovely weirdo sister for you!”

Strange, Caitlyn thought. Because Vi never reacted like that when she touched her. If anything, she sought it out, subtle, soft, but frequent.

“Come on, have a seat,” Ekko said, grinning. “We don’t bite. Most of us.”

“That remains to be seen,” Mylo winked. “Hi ladies. I’m Mylo. The one you’ve been waiting for your whole life and just didn’t know it yet.”

Jayce snorted. “You planning to ignore me or just being rude?”

“Well, depends. Any chance I could get in your pants?”

“Not with that attitude.”

“Maybe next year, then.” Another wink.

The whole table laughed as they settled in, the table groaning beneath scattered menus and too many elbows, the air thick with warmth and alcohol-softened voices. Their glasses arrived, clinking like tiny, celebratory bells, and the rhythm of the evening settled into something easy, something fluid. Vi sat next to Caitlyn, their thighs pressed lightly together. That single point of contact grounded her, soothed something restless in her bones.

Ekko was passionately explaining the rise of artificial intelligence to Mel, gesturing animatedly with his hands, while she nodded with what seemed like genuine interest. Powder rambled about a new video game, Mylo arguing the best weapon loadouts while Jayce and Caitlyn asked half-sincere questions. It was disjointed, mismatched, chaotic. And it worked. Somehow, impossibly, they all fit.

At some point, Mylo started talking about his job in a pawn shop, and everyone listened, except Vi.

She was unusually quiet. Withdrawn, almost. Caitlyn watched her from the corner of her eye, trying not to make it obvious; the way her fingers toyed with the condensation on her glass, the faraway look in her eyes, the slight tension in her jaw. She wanted to reach out and ask what’s wrong, but didn’t dare with everyone around.

So when Vi finally looked up, catching her gaze, and offered that half-smile, the one that never quite reached her eyes, Caitlyn smiled back, and said nothing.

Conversation moved on. It was Jayce, inevitably, who steered it back to Vi.

“So, Vi,” Jayce finally asked, his tone light but sharp with curiosity, “what’s your major?”

Vi stared into her drink like it might contain the answer. Her lips parted slightly but no sound came out.

Long enough for Powder to jump in.

“Vi studies… some kind of Biology,” she said with a shrug. She sipped her soda like she’d said something perfectly ordinary.

“Some kind of—? What does that even mean?” Jayce frowned.

“Mostly women's anatomy,” Powder deadpanned, then cracked up. Ekko and Mylo followed suit.

“Hey, Fat Hands,” Powder turned to Vi, “remember how you said I could have one beer tonight?”

“Sure, you little shit. You want it now?”

“Hell yes. And maybe make it two since I’m clearly the joy of your miserable life?”

“You get two if you stop being a pain in my ass for the rest of the night.”

“Deal! Oh hey! Isn’t that your ex at the bar?”

Vi turned, squinting toward the counter. Caitlyn followed her gaze and saw a pretty brunette talking to the bartender. Something sharp twisted in her chest. She hated the girl immediately. No reason. Pure instinct.

“She’s not my ex, Pow,” Vi muttered, exasperated.

“You went out with her? Damn, well done!” Jayce added, clearly impressed.

Powder burst out laughing. “Went out? That’s rich. In Vi’s book, dating means: bang a few times, vanish, let them get tired and move on.”

“Aaand back to one beer for you,” Vi snapped, voice tight.

“So you're a heartbreaker, Vi?” Mel teased gently.

“I never touch their hearts,” Vi said, voice low, unreadable.

“Oh, she could get anyone,” Mylo threw in. “I hated her for years because of it.”

Vi the heartbreaker. The girl who left lovers behind. It didn’t fit. Not with the Vi Caitlyn knew. The one who held her so carefully, who smiled like it meant something, who never looked away when Caitlyn needed her.

“Come on, give her a break. Not everyone’s made for relationships,” Caitlyn said, quieter than she meant to.

“Says the unofficial girlfriend…” Powder mumbled, but loud enough to draw a breathless silence.

“Pow,” Ekko warned.

Vi stood abruptly. “I’ll get your damn beer,” she growled, and stalked off to the terrace.

Caitlyn’s body moved before her brain caught up. She was already slipping from the booth, following her. She found Vi outside, leaning against the wall, breathing deep. The cold curled around her in waves.

“Is everything okay?” Caitlyn asked softly.

Vi turned, her sad grin slicing the night. The scar on her lip pulled slightly. Caitlyn had long stopped seeing it as a flaw. It made her real. Raw. Beautiful in a way that hurt.

“Yeah. I just needed some air.”

“You’ve been off all night. What’s going on?”

Vi looked away. “Guess I wasn’t really in the mood. But hey… New Year, right?”

Caitlyn reached for her hand without thinking. Vi didn’t pull away. If anything, her features softened like was under heat, her shoulders lost some of their tightness.

“Thanks. For standing up for me,” Vi said quietly. “And sorry about my sister. She can be a real asshole.”

“She’s just protective. It’s fine.” Caitlyn smiled. “If it helps, I’m having a really good time.”

Vi’s eyes lifted to meet hers; pale blue, sharp as glass and soft as snowfall.

“That… actually does help.”

“Jayce and Mel too, I think.”

“Yeah. That’s good.”

“So,” Caitlyn said, voice light, “how about we go back in, enjoy the end of the night… and maybe do the countdown together?”

Vi’s eyes, usually so guarded, opened. Something vulnerable flickered there, unspoken and alive.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and squeezed Caitlyn’s hand.

They stood there for a moment longer. The silence between them was thick with weight, with everything unspoken. It felt like standing on the edge of something vast and irreversible. A fault line ready to break open.

Caitlyn didn’t know how long they had left like this, close, but untouched. It felt like a ticking time bomb. No one could say when it would explode. Only that it would.

****** 

“5”
“4”
They stood facing one another, hands entwined, eyes locked. The world around them blurred and fell away, as if time itself bowed out, leaving only the shimmer in the other’s gaze.

“3”
“2”
Caitlyn smiled softly at the thought of starting a new chapter with Vi’s fingers around hers, with that glint of mischief and sorrow in her eyes. It didn’t promise anything. And yet, somehow, it promised everything.

“1”
“Happy New Year, Caitlyn.” Vi’s voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and luminous.

“Happy New Year, Violet.” Caitlyn exhaled the words, shaky and full of wonder.

They folded into each other like it was instinct, a gravity too old to question. The embrace was tight, almost desperate, fingers curling into fabric as if afraid of slipping through time.

There were other people to greet. Other hugs to exchange. But neither moved. Neither wanted it to end. As always.

And without saying a word, they both understood exactly what the other felt.

******

January 2013

Caitlyn was on edge. To say the least.

Midterms were closing in, and the pressure curled around her spine like a vice. Her days were reduced to bullet points and highlighters, her nights to aching muscles and blinking cursor lines. Her nerves were raw, stretched so tight they trembled on her skin.

She’d told Vi they shouldn’t see each other, not until exams were over. It made sense. She needed focus, discipline, perfection. But still, she missed her. Missed the way her breath slowed when Vi was around. Missed the ease. She missed the way Vi’s voice loosened the knot in her chest, how her laugh made the world tilt ever so slightly back into balance.

It was mid-afternoon, and she was curled on her couch, pages fanned out around her like fallen leaves. The highlighter squeaked softly as she worked, drowning in notes she barely registered.

She was halfway through a paragraph on constitutional frameworks when she heard a knock on the door. Soft. Hesitant. Unexpected.

She froze.

The second knock broke her trance, and she stood, uneasy, crossing to the door. When she opened it, her breath caught.

Vi was standing there. Tired. Soft-eyed. Holding a glass container like it was a peace offering.

Her face was pale, cheeks a little hollowed, eyes rimmed with fatigue. Her posture had none of its usual bounce; it was slouched, worn thin.

“Vi… what are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not staying,” she said quickly, her voice gentle. “I know you’re swamped. I just… I wanted to bring you this.” She held out the container like it was something sacred.

Caitlyn took it cautiously, opened it and stared. A rich, chocolate scent rose to meet her.

“You got me… brownies?” she managed.

“Made them,” Vi corrected, scratching the back of her neck. “I know you’ve been working like crazy. Figured you could use a little comfort.”

Caitlyn blinked, speechless. “That’s… Vi, that’s really sweet of you.”

“You’re the sweet one. You’re gonna ace those exams, Cait. I’m sure of it.” She offered a crooked grin. “So enjoy those. Now get back to it, lazybones.”

She turned toward the elevator.

“Wait—Vi!”

Vi paused, looking over her shoulder.

“Well… you’re here now. Might as well stay for a bit. I suppose I could afford a short break.”

“You sure…? I don’t wanna bother…” Her tone was cautious, almost guilty.

“You never bother me. Come on.” Caitlyn smiled, stepping aside.

Vi hesitated a beat, then stepped through the threshold like someone entering a sacred place. She moved slowly, like even that simple effort cost more energy than she had.

They sat down together on the couch.

“You look really tired today…” she commented, her voice soft, almost cautious.

“That must be ‘cause I am,” Vi replied with a faint smirk, the usual brightness in her eyes dimmed.

“How come?”

“Just had a lot of work lately. It’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix. Don’t worry about me.” Even her wink; usually cocky, confident; seemed offbeat tonight, a little slow, a little forced.

“Hum,” Caitlyn hummed, thoughtful.

She placed the container on the table and opened it again, taking one tentative bite.

It was still warm. Fudgy. Perfect. She closed her eyes.

“God. Fuck, Vi, this is amazing.”

Vi laughed, a real one this time. “Whoa. She curses. I’ve corrupted you.”

“It does happen. Rarely. I’m not all posh, you know.” She gave her a smug little smirk.

“I like that about you,” Vi replied, eyes fluttering closed. Her head tilted back against the couch, her features finally softening.

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

She just looked at her for a while. How her exhaustion made her delicate, how her voice had dropped into something fragile. It tugged at something primal in her.

“What were you working on?” Vi asked, voice muffled by the cushions.

“Reading.” Caitlyn gestured at the massive stack of papers. “But I’m struggling to focus.”

Vi hummed low in her throat. “Want to try reading it to me?”

“You want me to read it… aloud?”

“If it helps,” she murmured, barely audible now.

“You’ll be bored to death.”

“I don’t mind. I love your voice.” Her voice was quiet now, like rain against a windowpane.

Something caught in Caitlyn’s chest. She stared at her, at the faint blush on her pale cheeks, at the way her eyelids flickered like she was already halfway to sleep.

She swallowed hard and picked up the pages.

And she read. The words were dry, convoluted, academic. It wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t even interesting. But the steady rhythm of words filled the room with something warm, something still. Vi’s breathing slowed, and with it, Caitlyn’s thoughts began to fall into place.

They didn’t have to speak. Didn’t have to explain. Being together was enough.

Caitlyn swallowed thickly.

She knew she shouldn’t. She should get up. Let her sleep. Let the moment pass without indulging in it. But the ache inside her was magnetic… slow, tender, and unbearable.

Her hand reached out before she made the conscious decision. Gently, so gently it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, she brushed a loose lock of Vi’s hair away from her temple It was softer than she’d imagined. Downy. Silky.

Her fingertips grazed warm skin, and Caitlyn froze. She felt it in her stomach. The jolt of electricity, of something too dangerous to name. Still, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let her fingers trail lightly along Vi’s cheekbone. Memorizing its curve. The faint texture of old bruises, long healed. A shallow scar she’d never dared to ask about. Vi stirred slightly under her touch but didn’t wake. Her brow twitched, and a quiet breath escaped her parted lips. Caitlyn’s hand lingered for a moment longer, then drifted down, hovered near her jaw, just above her pulse.

She closed her eyes.

Then she leaned in slightly, letting her nose skim the crown of her head. The scent, cedar, earthy, clean, unmistakably Vi, washed over her like a wave. Her pulse fluttered. Maybe it was foolish to believe she could keep her heart in check around this girl.

This was bad. Very bad. But she couldn’t stop.

Because this… this quiet, stolen moment, was the closest thing to peace she’d felt in weeks.

And she wasn’t ready to let go of it.

******

February 2013

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do that,” Vi panted between ragged breaths.

“Hey, you were willing,” Caitlyn shot back with a teasing grin. “You said you had to work on your cardio. Well, this is it. Now stay focused, Vi. It’s all in the head.”

They were jogging along a winding trail just outside the city. The kind of path lined with bare trees and quiet stretches of frozen grass, where the skyline in the distance looked soft through the cold haze. The air was sharp in their lungs, and each breath escaped as visible steam.

“I can’t, Cait.” Vi came to a halt, hands on her knees, entirely out of breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, cheeks flushed, hair clinging slightly to her temples from the effort.

Caitlyn slowed to a stop and turned back toward her, catching her own breath as she studied her.

“Fuck, you’re killing me. How long have we been running like this?” Vi asked, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

“About… 56 minutes.” Caitlyn checked her sport watch, looking far too pleased with herself.

“God, I suck.” Vi huffed a breathless laugh, her voice hoarse from the cold.

“You don’t suck, darling. You just need to practice,” Caitlyn said, stepping closer, her voice laced with fondness.

“Well… can I practice taking a hot shower and a nap?” Vi asked with a crooked grin, eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Caitlyn chuckled and placed both hands gently on her shoulders, grounding her, warming her.

“I’ll tell you what,” she murmured, her voice low and promising. “We finish this loop, then we go home. I’ll make you hot cocoa with lots of whipped cream, tuck you into your favorite blanket, and we’ll watch The Simpsons. How does that sound?”

Vi stared at her, all banter melting from her expression. Her eyes softened, full of something unspoken. When she finally spoke, her voice was hushed.

“Like heaven,” she breathed

******

They were curled up on Caitlyn’s couch for movie night, a blanket draped across their legs, a bowl of popcorn nestled between them. The Others was playing on the screen, its muted palette and haunting music making the whole room feel quieter.

“Oh, that’s her!” Caitlyn pointed suddenly. “I loved her in 21 Grams.”

Vi turned to her, one brow arched in immediate skepticism.

“Uh… hate to break it to you, honey, but you’re wrong. That was Naomi Watts.”

Caitlyn blinked, unconvinced. “No way. I’m sure it was Kidman. Same intense eyes, same fragile look like they’ve seen too much…”

Vi tilted her head, amused. “Nah, trust me. 21 Grams is with Naomi Watts and Sean Penn. I saw it twice.”

Caitlyn sat up straighter, arms crossing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Kidman.”

Vi laughed. “It’s not.”

Caitlyn shook her head, stubborn. “Come on, they’ve got the same vibe. Elegant, mysterious, slightly creepy…”

Vi glanced back at the screen, where Nicole Kidman was looking particularly ghostly.

“Oh, they do not…” Vi trailed off, her eyes narrowing playfully before drifting back to the screen. She sighed. “You know what? Now that you say it… I don’t know. You might be right.”

“I am right,” Caitlyn affirmed, triumphant.

Once the credits rolled, Caitlyn darted off the couch and pulled her laptop onto the table, determination etched into every movement. Vi watched her with amusement, already knowing how this was going to end.

Moments later, Caitlyn froze, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. There it was. Clear as day.

Naomi. Fucking. Watts.

She stared at the name like it had betrayed her. And Vi? Vi was sitting back, arms behind her head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Not a word spoken. Not a told-you-so in sight.

Vi watched her return to the couch with a defeated pout and tried—tried—not to smile too fondly.

“Come on, beautiful,” Vi said softly, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “It’s nothing. Don’t be mad.”

“You were right,” Caitlyn muttered, still sulking.

Vi pulled her into a gentle hug, her voice low and teasing. “Aww, it’s okay. You can’t always be right, Cait. It’s okay.”

Caitlyn let her head rest against Vi’s shoulder, grumbling. She felt warm, tucked in. Safe. And maybe (just a little bit) she liked sulking if it meant being held like this.

“You knew it.” She mumbled. “And you didn’t say anything.”

Vi whispered near her ear, “I’ll let you be right every day, if it makes you happy.”

******

Caitlyn’s fingers hovered over the piano keys, trembling just slightly. The room was quiet, too quiet. Violet was sitting across from her on the couch, her gaze fixed on her, expectant, as though she could see through the walls Caitlyn had built. But Caitlyn didn’t know how to play this. Not the piano. That she’d learned long ago, in the warmth of childhood lessons. But this moment. This naked kind of exposure she hadn’t been taught how to bear.

She didn’t know how to be this vulnerable. Not like this. It was the first time she had ever played in front of Vi. The first time she had let the music become something more than a personal escape, more than a secret tucked away. It felt too much. Too raw, too dangerous.

She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, her hands felt like they belonged to someone else, stiff and unsure. But then, with a slow, tentative press, she played the first note. It was soft, almost fragile, and she held her breath, afraid the sound would shatter the moment.

Violet’s eyes didn’t leave her. Caitlyn couldn’t look at her. Not directly. She could feel the weight of her gaze, the silence growing thick with unspoken things, things that Caitlyn wasn’t ready to admit, things that Violet probably couldn’t see. Or maybe she did. Maybe Violet had already noticed the way Caitlyn’s heart beat faster every time their hands brushed, the way her chest tightened when their eyes met. But Caitlyn wouldn’t let herself think about that. Not now.

The music began to flow, soft at first, then a little stronger. Each note seemed to speak without words, unraveling Caitlyn’s thoughts, the parts of her that she couldn’t hide. She had been so careful with Violet, building a friendship she cherished more than anything. But playing now, sharing this piece of herself, felt like she was unraveling it all. Letting it slip through her fingers.

Her presence was like a magnet, pulling her in, even though Caitlyn couldn’t reach her. She felt the heat between them, the way their connection sparked even in the silence. Was it only Caitlyn who felt it? She couldn’t tell. Was Violet listening to the music, or was she feeling the same things Caitlyn was; things that neither of them could admit? Caitlyn glanced at Violet for a fleeting moment, just enough to catch the soft curve of her lips, the way she sat perfectly still, her breath caught in some kind of delicate balance. The room was too small, too tight, as though it was holding them both hostage, and Caitlyn couldn’t decide whether to run away or lean closer.

The last chord drifted out into the air, hanging there for a heartbeat, and then the room fell silent. Caitlyn’s fingers lingered on the keys, almost afraid to pull away.

Vi didn’t speak at first, and Caitlyn’s heart seemed to echo in the space between them. She couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear the weight of whatever might be in the woman’s eyes. If she saw it, if she saw what Caitlyn was feeling, everything would change.

“That was beautiful,” Violet finally said, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

Caitlyn felt something in her chest tighten. Something like hope, but it was so fragile, she was afraid it would break if she moved too quickly. “I—I don’t usually play in front of people,” Caitlyn said, her voice coming out more strained than she intended.

Vi didn’t reply immediately. She just looked at her, eyes searching, and Caitlyn couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Was she waiting for Caitlyn to say something? Waiting for her to confess what they both pretended wasn’t there? Caitlyn felt the overwhelming urge to fill the space between them, but she couldn’t find the words.

“You didn’t have to,” Vi said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m happy you did.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. Was she just being kind? Or did she feel something more? Something that Caitlyn couldn’t bring herself to believe. She wanted to ask. She wanted to reach out, to cross the distance between them and find out if Vi was holding back too. But she didn’t.

Instead, Caitlyn pulled her hands from the piano, staring at them in her lap, unsure of what to do with the emotion that had built up and threatened to spill over. The truth was right there, hanging in the air, but neither of them could say it. They both knew it, and yet they pretended they didn’t.

Violet stayed still, her gaze never leaving Caitlyn, as if she were waiting for Caitlyn to make the next move. But Caitlyn couldn’t do it. She couldn’t break the fragile line they had drawn between them.

Finally, Caitlyn turned away, her heart pounding. She forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m glad you liked it.”

But Violet didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Caitlyn knew. The silence between them said everything they couldn’t.

And Caitlyn felt it. How much they both wanted something more, but how terrified they were to speak it out loud. How they would keep pretending, because this, whatever it was, was safer.

******

March 2013

This was going to be the day.

She had been working toward it for months, researching, applying, revising her resume until it was perfect. She’d set her sights on a summer internship in one of the most renowned museums in England, a cathedral of knowledge, a sanctuary where art whispered truths across centuries. If everything went according to plan, she’d be in London for the summer, working, learning, exploring the city, and even reconnecting with distant relatives she hadn’t seen in years.

She was buzzing with nerves and anticipation. The answer was coming today. Despite her mother’s repeated attempts to pull strings and “help,” Caitlyn had insisted on doing it on her own. She had wanted this to be hers, and hers alone.

Classes that morning had become a blur of words and formulas she could no longer focus on. She could hardly concentrate. Her mind kept circling back to the same thought: What if it’s a yes? What if it’s a no?

She had already asked Vi to meet her after her last class. She wanted her to be the first to know. Six months in, and they were practically inseparable. It still startled her sometimes, how natural it had become; to reach for Vi, to laugh with her, to need her. Lunch together had become routine, but today felt different. Charged.

When the last class ended, Caitlyn didn’t waste a second. She gathered her things and bolted outside.

Vi was there. Waiting, her presence unmistakable, her arms folded across her chest. The minute she saw Caitlyn, her eyes lit up with curiosity, a smile half-formed on her lips. Caitlyn walked up to her without a word, expression unreadable.

Vi didn’t even greet her. “So?” she asked, eyes wide with expectation.

“Sooo…” Caitlyn drawled, barely able to contain her grin. “I got it!”

Without hesitation, Vi swept her off her feet, arms wrapped tightly around her, spinning her in a burst of laughter. Caitlyn let out a breathless gasp before joining in, clinging to Vi’s shoulders.

“I’m so happy for you, Cait! You deserve this. You’re amazing. You’re gonna have the summer of your life!”

“I’m happy too! I’ve already read a ton about it. I’m going fully prepared.”

“I bet you are,” Vi grinned. “I can’t wait for you to tell me everything.”

“I know. I’ll send you pictures and everything. I’m just…” She hesitated. Then, in a quieter voice: “I’m going to miss you.”

It was the first time she’d said something like that. Directly. Unapologetically. The words fell between them like petals.

Vi froze. Her arms didn’t move. She looked at her like she was seeing her for the first time. There was something in her eyes, always intense, that deepened. They held her captive. Her gaze was steady, unmoving, the silence between them suddenly thick and fragile. They were still holding each other. Neither of them moved to let go.

Then…

“Hey ladies!”

A voice broke the spell. They broke apart instantly, as if caught. A safe distance appeared between them like an instinct. Caitlyn turned, half-guilty, half-grateful for the interruption.

“Hello, Jayce!” Caitlyn greeted, smiling a little too brightly.

“Hi,” Vi said, nodding curtly.

“How’s it going?” he asked, casual and warm.

“I just got the news,” Caitlyn beamed. “I was accepted for the internship in London this summer!”

Jayce’s expression lit up. “Oh my God, Cait, that’s amazing! Congrats! We should call Mel and celebrate!”

“I’d love to! I’m so excited about it.”

“I’m sure you are. Your mother will be thrilled.”

As he spoke, he lifted his hand to wave at someone behind them. Caitlyn turned to follow his gaze.

A young blond man stood nearby, eyes wide and uncertain. His gaze landed on Vi, and his expression shifted instantly. Frown. Confusion. Discomfort.

Caitlyn felt Vi tense beside her. Her shoulders stiffened, her gaze dropped to the pavement. There was a subtle panic flickering in her eyes, small, but unmistakable.

“Something wrong?” Caitlyn asked, brows knitting.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Vi said quickly, voice low. “Just… not a big fan of that guy. Can we go?”

“Uh, sure.” Caitlyn nodded, glancing at the man again. Something about Vi’s tone made her uneasy.

“Jayce, I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, though his voice had lost its warmth. He was watching them closely now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll let you break the news to Mel. See you, girls.”

They turned and left, but Caitlyn could feel his gaze following them. Something about the way he looked at Vi, like he’d just noticed something he couldn’t explain. And maybe didn’t like.

******

April 2013

“Yes, Mum, I’ll spend a few days with you before I go, and then you can take me to the airport.” She spoke with the composed tone she always reserved for her mother—light, steady, unshakable. A practiced calm.

“Yes, of course I’ll be cautious.”

She paced slowly through the apartment as she spoke, the phone pressed to her ear with the same old pressure of duty. Familiar words, spoken a hundred times before, echoed down the line; reassurances dressed as affection, concern laced with control.

“Yes, I know, it is a great opportunity. We’ve been through this already.”

And they had. Countless times. But her mother, like most people accustomed to steering the ship, couldn’t help double-checking that the tide was in their favor.

“Me too. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

The call ended, and silence fell over the apartment again. Caitlyn sighed, pressing the phone against her chest for a second, her fingers curling around it like it was an anchor. But it wasn’t. She didn’t need one. Not anymore.

She was ready.

London was no longer just a name on a postcard or a distant ideal; it was weeks away. A summer of independence, immersion, exploration. A new city, a new rhythm. And a piece of her had already started walking those cobblestone streets in her dreams. But it came with a pull, too...a tether she wasn’t ready to name. Violet’s absence would be a hollow shape she didn’t yet know how to live around.

She moved to the kitchen, absent-minded, reaching for something; anything; without much appetite. But her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, abrupt knock at the door. Heavy. Urgent. Too loud for this hour.

She jumped slightly, her breath catching in her chest. She hesitated just a moment before moving toward the door.

When she opened it…

“Hey, Cait.”

“Jayce?” Her brow furrowed. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just…” He paused. His eyes were strange. Flat and unsettled. “I needed to talk to you. About something. Can I come in?”

Something about his tone pulled her upright. This wasn’t casual.

“Of course. Come in.”

He entered with the kind of nervous energy that shifted the whole air of the room. He headed for the couch and dropped down onto it, burying his face in his hands. Caitlyn followed, standing still at first, unsure if she should sit, speak, wait, breathe.

“You’re kind of scaring me right now, you know?” she said, standing in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he said, lifting his head. “Nothing to be scared of. It’s just…”

He gestured toward the seat next to him. “You should sit.”

Caitlyn hesitated. Then sat.

Jayce exhaled loudly, running both hands down his face. He looked up at her with a seriousness she hadn’t seen in him before.

“It’s about Vi,” he said at last.

Her heart stopped for a second. Something icy dropped into her chest.

“What happened?” she asked quickly. Her voice was tight.

He flinched a little at the sound of it.

“Spit it out, Jayce.”

“I’m trying,” he said, voice low. “It’s just not easy.”

“Jayce.”

“I know.” He looked away, jaw clenched. “But you should know. And I need to warn you… you’re not going to like it.”

******

Sometimes, life doesn’t prepare you for what’s coming. It doesn’t give you a warning. It likes to keep the cards close. Maybe to keep things interesting. To remind you not to get too comfortable. Because any road, no matter how smooth, can turn on itself without warning.

And when your mind shuts down, your body tries to compensate.

Caitlyn was pacing the living room like a caged animal, desperate for a thread to hold onto. A reason. An explanation. Something.

She’d been blind. She knew there were things Vi kept hidden. There were so many blanks in Vi’s story she had learned to romanticize. She’d never seen where she lived, they never talked about her classes, and there were subjects, personal ones, Vi always dodged. Caitlyn had chalked it up to her nature. Guarded. Private. But honest.

Or so she’d thought. She’d believed she knew her.

Jayce’s revelations had shattered that illusion. His words still echoed. They made sense. Too much sense. The vague answers about school. The bruised lip, months ago. The late nights. The night they met; Vi had been in the hallway of a fraternity house. She thought it odd, back then. But she let it go.

Now she couldn’t. Not anymore.

She needed to understand. She needed the truth.

Caitlyn:
Vi, I need to talk to you. Can you come over?

She hit send and resumed pacing. It was almost 10pm. Maybe Vi was out. Maybe she’d ignore it.
But Caitlyn had written it in a way she couldn’t.

Vi:
It’s kind of a bad time, Cait. Is it urgent?

Caitlyn:
Yes.

Vi:
Be there in 30.

Caitlyn:
The door is open. Just come in.

And then, the wait. Time warped, stretched, folded in on itself. She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, cradling a cup of now-cold tea.

When the door opened, it did so softly. Quietly. She didn’t turn. Just listened. Light footsteps crossed the threshold, cautious and slow. Then…

Vi. Standing in the entrance of the kitchen.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t move forward. She stood there like a ghost. Arms loose, gaze downcast, guilt pouring off her in waves. She didn’t need to ask why she’d been called.

She knew.

And Caitlyn… couldn’t look at her the same.

“Do you consider us close friends?” she asked, her voice flat. Controlled.

Vi swallowed. “Yes,” she breathed.

Caitlyn nodded. Slowly.

“Do you always lie to your friends, then?”

Silence.

Vi stared at the floor, shoulders low, like a child waiting to be scolded.

“I assume you see where I’m going with this.”

“…Yes.”

Still no eye contact. The pressure surged in Caitlyn’s chest like a rising tide. Every word she had rehearsed cracked under the weight of being said out loud. Of course she wouldn’t make it easy. Caitlyn’s jaw clenched, fury rising hot and sharp in her chest.

“It’s been seven months, Violet. Seven months. We’ve been getting closer, sharing parts of ourselves…at least I thought we were…and the whole time, you’ve been lying to me.”

Her voice cracked, but she powered through.

“I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. You knew who I was. You knew what my name meant. What my family is. And you still…” She stopped, breath catching.

“You let me think you were just a struggling college student. That’s what you wanted me to believe.”

Vi didn’t move. Didn’t defend herself. Just watched her quietly, shame carved into every inch of her face. Like she believed she deserved it.

“I thought I knew you,” Caitlyn whispered. “But you were dealing drugs. On campus. And God knows where else.”

Vi’s eyes met hers then, full of sorrow, wide and unbearably still.

“You’re a criminal,” Caitlyn said, the words tasting like acid.

“But that’s not even the worst part.” Her voice hardened. “You’re a liar.”

Vi’s face contorted, like she’d just been struck. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. But still nothing. No protest. Just pain.

“I trusted you,” Caitlyn went on, trembling. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And all this time, you were hiding. Every single day. Lying. About who you are. What you do. You didn’t even have the decency to come clean…not once.”

Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to hold in the sob clawing its way up her throat.

Vi’s eyes were misted too, but her posture stayed the same. Still. Enduring.

“…Do you use?” Caitlyn asked, her voice almost gone.

Vi blinked. “Not usually.”

“But you do.”

“Yes, Caitlyn. It’s happened. What difference does it make?”

Caitlyn stared at her like she didn’t recognize the woman standing there.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

No reply.

“Fuck, Vi, say something!”

Finally, a sniffle. Vi shifted, eyes scanning the room like it might help her find the words.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just a street rat selling drugs to survive. How could I go to college? No sane person would give me a scholarship. I can’t afford it. I never could.”

She paused. Two shaky breaths. Then met Caitlyn’s gaze head-on.

“This was going to happen eventually. I’ve always been trash. I just didn’t care until…” Her voice trailed off, but the ache in it lingered. “I get it. I get it, Caitlyn.”

She nodded once. As if to seal it.

“I understand.”

And just like that, she turned. Walked to the door. No goodbye. No drama.

The muted click of the lock as it closed behind her sounded like the last sentence in a book Caitlyn wasn’t ready to finish.

She stayed frozen in place, her breath shallow. And when the tears came, hot, fast, relentless, she didn’t even try to stop them.

Chapter Text

Hozier

“Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
No more alone or myself could I be
Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open
No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene”

April 2013

The ceiling had a brownish stain, strangely shaped like Mickey Mouse. Vi had been staring at it for what felt like hours. Her eyes didn’t blink much. Her breath barely moved. The shape reminded her of a different life. A memory with sun in it. A rare one.

She’d taken her sister to Disneyland once. Vander was still around back then. It had been a good day. The kind that sticks with you. The sun was shining on the sequined dresses of the Disney Princesses, and her then-nine-year-old sister had smiled so wildly all day long, Vi had wondered how it didn’t hurt. They couldn’t afford the good rides, the food was a joke, and they’d shared a single photo with Cinderella; half-blurry, sun in their eyes; but Vi had kept it. Somewhere. That day had felt like a gift wrapped in tinfoil. Still shining, in its own cheap, perfect way.

Now the stain stared back at her like a bad punchline. That same mouse’s ears distorted by mold and time.

They were always poor. At some point, you stop seeing it as unfair. It doesn’t make you angry anymore. You just accept the world you were born into. Because it’s all you’ve ever known. And it’ll be all you know, until the day you leave it and return to the dirt.

She heard sheets rustling beside her and turned her head. A pair of dark eyes watched her.

The girl lay on her stomach, her back and bare ass half-lit by the dull blue of the night. Her naked body was a blur in the shadows. She reached out, fingertips grazing Vi’s stomach.

“Will I ever be allowed to touch you?”

“No.” Vi didn’t hesitate, pushing the hand away.

“So that’s how it is? You rile me up, fuck me from behind until I cum three times, and that’s it?”

“If it’s not enough, stop answering my calls, Sonia.”

“You’re a good lay Vi, but I didn’t think it would always end like this.” Sonia sat up slowly, the sheets falling from her back.

“Look,” Vi said. “I hate being touched. I never let anyone do it. Ever. It’s nothing personal. But if you don’t want to keep this going, I get it.”

“You really don’t care, do you?”

Vi’s voice was detached, toneless. She was already dressing, pulling on her jeans, grabbing her jacket from the floor.

“I really don’t.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She left the room, the apartment, the building, the street, the world.

She didn’t care about much. She made Sonia wet enough to fuck her senseless, and she took what she needed from it. Afterwards, she went back to being the empty shell she always was.

Going home held no appeal. Staring at her own ceiling in the cold quiet of her room, loneliness pressed like a stone on her stomach… no thanks. The Last Drop was closed at this hour, so she turned to Babette’s Club.

The bass thumped deep in her chest as she pushed the heavy doors open.

Babette’s Club greeted her like a slap; all heat and sweat and noise.

The air inside was thick, sticky, laced with cheap perfume and warm alcohol breath. Bodies swayed and crashed against each other in rhythm, skin glistening under rotating lights. A sickly purple glow painted the walls, pulsing like a dying heartbeat. Overhead, strings of neon flickered in lazy spasms, casting erratic shadows across the crowd.

She weaved through the chaos, indifferent to the hands grazing her arms, the eyes that lingered.
Everyone was too drunk, too high, or too desperate to care about boundaries.

This wasn’t a place you came to feel alive. This was where you came to disappear.

The bar was wedged between a mirrored wall and a strip of half-collapsed stools.

Behind it, Sarah was laughing with a customer, her bright eyes scanning the crowd like a seasoned predator.

“Hey, Sarah!” she shouted.

“Hey, Vi! Long time no see! Where you been?”

“Around. How’re you?”

“I’m okay! It’s been crazy in here the past year; you know how it is. Things are wild backstage.”

“Good to hear.”

Backstage: their code word for the dirty side of the club. It’s rotten heart.

Behind the beaded curtain next to the bathrooms lay the real Babette’s: A vast, muffled world of red velvet and mirrored ceilings. A labyrinth of curtained booths and private rooms, soaked in low music and the scent of latex and sweat. Some said it never slept. That it had no end.

“What’s your poison tonight?” Sarah asked. Vi already knew.

“You still have what I brought you a few months back?”

“I’ve got some left, yeah.”

“Enough for a Purple Drank?”

“Lean it is, for the lady. Keep it low, though.”

“Always.”

Sarah turned to prepare the drink, her silhouette haloed by the liquor shelves, casting sharp shadows.

Vi leaned on the bar, eyes half-lidded, watching the crowd melt into one big, heaving organism.
No faces. No names. Just noise and movement and color.

The purple liquid swirled in her glass: codeine, promethazine, cough syrup, soda.

A high like no other.

The bitterness of the syrup clung to her tongue, thick and cloying, but she barely noticed. The taste was secondary, insignificant compared to the promise of relief. She swallowed, the liquid trailing down her throat like melted velvet, warm and slow. For a few moments, nothing changed. The room remained the same. The argument still echoed, replaying in the hollow spaces of her mind, each word sharp-edged and merciless.

Then, gradually, a shift. It was subtle at first, a creeping sensation, like slipping into warm water. Her limbs grew heavy, yet the weight felt distant, as if her body belonged to someone else. A warmth spread through her chest, uncoiling, stretching, until it wrapped itself around her like a soft embrace. The harsh contours of reality blurred, smudged at the edges like a painting left in the rain.

Her mind, once racing, now moved in slow, syrupy loops. Thoughts unraveled lazily, drifting without urgency or direction. She could feel the beat of her heart, steady, deliberate, echoing somewhere far away. Even the pain, the raw, aching wound of her absence, felt dulled, cushioned beneath layers of thick, cottony numbness. It was still there, but muted, like a distant sound through closed doors.

The room around her swayed, not violently, but in a slow, rhythmic rocking, as if she were floating on a vast, still ocean. The lights flickered, not in reality but in her perception, glowing too softly, too warmly. Colors deepened, shadows stretched. Every sound was elongated, distorted; her own breathing thick and deliberate, her heartbeat a distant drum.

She tried to move, but the thought of movement felt exhausting. It was easier to sink, to let the warmth pull her down into its embrace. Time lost meaning, minutes stretching into something unmeasurable. A dreamy fog settled over her, a lullaby sung in the language of oblivion.

And so she drifted, neither fully awake nor truly asleep, caught in the space between consciousness and something deeper, heavier. In this haze, there were no regrets, no heartbreak, no sharp edges. Just the slow, honey-thick embrace of nothingness.

******

“Vi!”

“Viiiii!”

“Fuck, wake up, sucker.”

She reluctantly opened one eyelid, catching the fuzzy outline of her sister’s face... and the cruel light of early morning.

“Pow?” Her voice was raw, broken, barely there.

“God, you’re a mess, girl.”

Sitting up took effort. She blinked around, trying to process. She was on the front porch. Of their house.

“What time is it?” she asked, voice dragging.

“Time for a shower, I’d say.”

The worry in Powder’s tone was seeping through as Vi struggled to piece herself together.

“What happened? Was it Caitlyn? Did she find out?” How her sister could always read her so easily, she’d never know.

“Go to school, Pow.”

“That’s what I was doing. But we’re gonna talk about this, you know?” Her voice was calm but firm. There was no room for debate.

“Later.”

Vi pulled herself up and staggered inside, to the upstairs bathroom. She had renovated most of the house in the past few years. It was starting to look like a home. Something real.

The quick shower didn’t do much. Her brain stayed fogged. She walked to her room and collapsed, naked, on her bed.

She was being a terrible example. Powder was doing better now. And she… was spiraling fast, no brakes in sight. She didn’t even have the strength to fight anymore. Everything was spent on hating herself. Falling in love had been the worst mistake of her life. And she’d made plenty. She couldn’t control it. The thought of Caitlyn devoured her. She had known this would happen, but knowing never helped. Not with Caitlyn. Lucidity had never saved her from what she felt. She’d underestimated the depth of it.
Clung to the illusion it was manageable. That she could keep it contained.

Seven months pretending to be someone else had felt like nothing. Now she was supposed to go back. Pretend it hadn’t happened. Pretend she hadn’t been real with her. Pretend she wasn’t still madly in love.

Her sister would never let it go. She’d have to find a way to explain, without explaining anything.

She remembered the conversation. The one that had changed everything.

[February 2013]

Vi came home late. A day with Caitlyn, an evening in some private party full of ghosts chasing their high.

Powder was still up, sitting on the couch in the dim room. Behind her, Ekko was yelling into his headset; insults, jokes, half-distracted advice. He barely glanced at her.

“Hey sis’!” Powder waved at her.

“Hey Pow! What are you doing, sitting with the TV off like this?” Vi looked at her sister with an amused grin.

“Nothing much. I was waiting for you actually. Wanna join me and play something?”

Something was going on. Powder was too poised. Too stiff.

“Okay. What’d you have in mind?”

“Hmm… How ’bout some Grand Theft Auto?”

“If you want. Been a while.”

“Cool!” She stood to turn the TV and console on, grabbed the controller, and sat back while Vi joined her.

“I just thought you’d enjoy it,” Powder said, staring at the screen. “You get to deal drugs in this one, you remember?”

“Barely.” Vi replied warily. Her sister kept her eyes on the screen.

“Yeah. Seems fitting, since, y’know, you’re actually doing this in real life.” She shot bluntly.

“Wh-what did you just say?” She couldn’t believe it. It had to be a nightmare.

“You heard me.” She turned her dark blue gaze to her sister’s astonished face.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking abou—”

“Oh please, don’t do that to me again, I’m begging you. I’m getting so tired of your bullshit. I know what I know. Ekko and I found out eventually. How dumb of you to believe it would never happen? Like you could hide this from us indefinitely.” Her voice cracked, not from anger, from exhaustion.

Behind them, Ekko went strangely quiet.

“How?” was all Vi could muster.

“Listening through doors, finding the cash AND the stash in your bedroom. Now that there’s no doubt left, can we talk about this?” It had been a long time since she heard that pleading tone come out of Powder’s mouth. A fragile mix of fear and care.

“There’s not much to talk about. It’s money, Pow. Good money.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Now she looked like she could cry, but didn’t.

“I can’t believe I’m the one who has to break it to you, but Vi, this is wrong, and dangerous, and it could get you in a lot of trouble. Not to mention it makes it easier for Silco to spot you, therefore to find me.”
She looked so troubled by all this, it pained Vi fiercely.

“I know that. I’m being careful, that’s nothing I can’t handle. We’re watching for Silco, I’m staying out of his turf. We need the money, Pow. I’m only doing this so you and Ekko can have anything you want. Go to college. Get you whatever you need.” She tried to explain.

“Here’s another round of bullshit for you, ladies and gentlemen!”

“Please, Powder…”

“No. That’s just a bunch of excuses because you’re making easy money and you don’t wanna quit. We’re almost seventeen, we are doing great, we’ll probably get grants to go to college at this pace, and you know it. We can work more, help you out. It’s also our responsibility, you know.”

“See, I was trying to avoid that. You’re so young, and you shouldn’t—”

“So you’d rather ruin your own life? You were young too when all that shit fell on us, remember? You keep forgetting things. You keep forgetting you’re not alone in this.”

That one hit hard. She was four years younger than her, and yet she was proving herself wiser than Vi had ever been. Even wiser than she was now, apparently.

Maybe she was right. Maybe Vi could put all this behind her and move on. She could stop lying to Caitlyn. That would lift a weight she was getting depleted trying to carry.

She put her head in her hands. She didn’t know who she was anymore.

She was a lowlife criminal. She was also a sister. And a friend. And she cared deeply. She loved immensely.

Someone wise once told her she had a good heart, and she had to keep it, no matter what the world did to her. Had she lost it? Was it too far gone now to ever be recovered?

She had lost so much it was hard to breathe sometimes.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do anymore.” The sound muffled by her palms over her mouth.

“You can always get a night job. I’m sure The Last Drop could use you.” Powder reassured her.

“Is that what you want me to do?” Vi asked in a worn-out tone.

“I want you to stop.” Powder’s answer was sharp. Definite. “Please, Vi. Just stop.”

“I’ll… think about it.” She was too lost and too tired to figure anything out right now.

“Promise me you’ll stop eventually. And don’t take too long. Promise me.” the teenager insisted.

“I promise.”

Now, two months later, lying on her bed, the memory came back to her like an old bruise. It hadn’t faded. It hadn’t healed. It haunted her.

Things had only gotten worse. If it wasn’t for her sister, if it wasn’t for the weight of Silco’s threat, always looming, she might’ve left already. Left it all behind. The memories, the people she loved but couldn’t stop hurting. She would’ve disappeared. Spared them from her. There was less and less to lose, and yet she had never felt this afraid. Not just afraid. Condemned.

Like Damocles, neck craned beneath a sword that never dropped, never swayed, but hung perfectly still. Reminding her every day that survival was borrowed time.

She didn’t know how much longer she could take it. She felt hopelessly depleted. Like someone had vacuumed the inside of her chest, left nothing behind but nerves and skin. She was just bones, and breath, and muscle memory. Hollow.

And above her, the blade still hung. Suspended. Unmoving. Certain. It didn’t swing. It didn’t threaten. It simply waited.

She fell into a light slumber.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she stood up, got dressed. Took a small, transparent bag from her jacket. And stared.

The fine white powder lay in a perfect line on the wooden surface, waiting. The room was dim, the air thick with the scent of something stale; old smoke, spilled liquor, the remnants of too many nights like this one. She exhaled slowly, rolling the dollar bill between her fingers, feeling its softness.

She hesitated, just for a second. Not out of doubt (no, that part of her had long since quieted) but out of ritual. There was a moment before every hit, a breath held between past and future, where the world still had weight. But she was tired of weight.

She lowered her head, pressed the bill to one nostril, and inhaled sharply. The powder shot up in a burning rush, searing through her nasal cavity and clawing its way into her skull. The pain was instant, sharp and electric, but she welcomed it. A grimace, a quick sniff, a swipe of her finger to catch the stray residue on her gums. Bitter. Chemical. Familiar.

Then, the shift. It climbed through her veins like wildfire, a sudden and violent awakening. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat, pushing blood too fast, too hard. The room sharpened; colors brighter, edges cleaner, the weight of the air suddenly gone. Every sound was louder, every sensation dialed up to an almost unbearable intensity. Her limbs no longer felt heavy; they were alive, thrumming, restless. Thoughts collided at breakneck speed, tangled in a rush of clarity and chaos. The fatigue, the doubt, the lingering ache of heartbreak; it all disappeared beneath the avalanche of euphoria and invincibility.

She licked her lips, breathing through her mouth, her jaw tight, her fingers tapping restlessly against her thigh. She needed to move. She needed something, anything, everything, all at once.

And just like that, she was no longer drowning. She was on fire. She rushed to the gym to unwind.

******

May 2013

The spiraling continued. She’d stopped selling. Quit her shitty job. Now she just went to Mylo, to get stuff for herself. He never even commented. Like he knew she wouldn’t say a thing. Like he could see it, how far she’d sunk. So now, it was official: she was useless in every sense of the word. In every conceivable way.

Powder and Ekko were out with friends for the night, and she was on her way to wherever she could find solace, for a few hours, at least.

She stopped by Benzo’s office before heading out.

“Hey kid.”

He looked worried. Everyone did, lately. Maybe she should just move out, go live alone for a while.

“Hey, so, I just wanted to tell you something.” She said, hovering in the doorway like a ghost in her own skin.

“Sure, come in.”

“No. I don’t have much time. I’m going out.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“I’m not dealing anymore. I’m done.”

The old man didn’t say a word. Just stared at her, concern in every wrinkle of his face.

“Did you hear me, Benzo? I’m done.” She pressed.

“I heard ya, Vi.”

“So... you got nothing to say, then?”

“That’s your choice. I’m not gonna chain you into anything.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

She closed the door and left.

She walked everywhere these days. She hadn’t touched her bike in weeks. She was always drunk, or high, or too tired to drive. She walked for miles, until she reached a gay bar uptown. Clean, crowded, expensive. Out of place. She went in. Got a drink. Then another. Then a shot.

Talked to a pretty girl who was obviously interested. Bought her a drink. Flirted. Her head started to spin. They went outside, shared a joint on the terrace. Vi never asked her name. They danced. More shots. And then she ate her out in a dirty bathroom stall. Vi dropped to her knees and made the girl come hard against the wall. It was fast, mechanical. The moans were too high-pitched. The taste was wrong. She didn’t like it. But she didn’t hate it either.

She didn’t feel anything.

But at least one of them was enjoying it.

Vi left without a word.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets, stopped by a small shop to buy a flask of rum, which she coupled with another joint. Heavy, burning.

She only saw her feet move along the uneven sidewalk. She couldn’t see how pathetic she looked. She couldn’t realize how broken she was. That was the whole point. She threw the empty bottle somewhere down the street and vaguely heard the satisfying rattle of glass shattering far away.

Then she walked into something. Hard. Solid.

“Hey!” she barked, already unsteady.

The man’s face was unclear. Or maybe they were two. Or four. She couldn’t trust her vision anymore.

“What the fuck are you doing, bitch?” he snapped.

She felt threatened. So she threw a right hook. She hit his jaw. But there was no weight behind it. No threat.

Then everything went sideways. She was on the ground. And the blows were raining down. A foot slammed into her nose. Another into her ribs. A fist cracked against her jaw. It didn’t seem to stop.

Some moments linger forever. Vi had learned that long ago. They stretch and slow down, suspended in time, dragging your body through every second of it.

She hardly felt the pain. But she smelled the blood. Felt the sticky, thick warmth drip from her chin, covering her left eye. Its iron taste spread through her mouth. She couldn’t do anything but wait.

It would stop, eventually. They would get tired. They probably had homes to go to. People waiting for them. Normal human things.

She didn’t know when it ended. But suddenly, she felt the cold air on her skin again. The silence.

She was alone.

Alone on the cold, dirty pavement. Most likely covered in blood.

But everything felt far away, like she’d curled up at the bottom of a pit. So deep in the ground she couldn’t hear the world anymore.

Maybe she’d die down here. Maybe she wanted to

******

Muffled, agitated noises poked their way into her ears. Her body was numb, limbs heavy. She couldn’t move, like an insect caught in a spider’s web. She was lying on her back on something soft. An acrid smell lingered in her nose. A faint sting throbbed in the crook of her elbow. As the sounds sharpened, growing clearer, louder, she tried to open her eyes. Failed.

“Vi?” someone called, far away. Too far. But she knew that voice.

“You’ll be alright, sis’. Don’t worry. We’re right here with you.”

Then everything went dark again.

******

This place was too loud. Heavy, hurried footsteps. Voices overlapping, clashing. Conversations she couldn’t untangle. No order, no meaning. Just noise.

She fought to open just one eyelid. The second she managed it, she had to shut it again. The blinding white light stabbed her retina like needles, forcing her to shut it again.

“What the fuck…” she murmured. But she couldn’t hear herself.

Still, she forced her eyes open again, just enough to make out… something. Anything. Where the fuck was she?

“Vi?”

Powder. Powder was here. That meant she was home, right?

She turned her head, slowly. Her vision was blurry, swimming, but she made out the shape of her sister hunched in a chair beside the bed. A hospital bed.

Details came to her in fragments. The stifling whiteness of the covers. The IV needle in her arm. The anguish carved deep into Powder’s face.

“Pow…” she croaked.

“Yeah, it’s me, dumbass. How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Vi managed to whisper.

“Well, at least you look the part.” Powder’s voice was clipped, almost casual, but it carried something beneath. Something brittle. “Ekko’s at the cafeteria. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“Well,” her sister said, her tone flattening, “you were found beat to hell by some lady who called 911. No phone. No papers. No ID. So they brought you here.”

Powder was angry. Not loud, not yelling, worse. Quiet. Controlled.

“Wait… if I had no ID, then how—”

“You’ve been here almost four days, Vi.” Powder’s voice cracked just slightly. “When we didn’t hear from you, Benzo called every hospital in town with your description. They didn’t even need to medicate you at first. You had so much shit in your blood they just monitored the overdose. How cool is that?” The sarcasm was acid.

Vi didn’t have a comeback. Nothing that would help. Nothing she could say would fix any of it.

“Four days?”

“Yeah. They got you good. Broken nose, busted ribs, split lip, eyebrow torn, traumatic brain injury.” A beat. “Could’ve been worse, though.”

“I guess…”

“Yeah, you guess.” Powder’s voice tightened. “Keep guessing your ass off, you moron. You could’ve been found dead in a gutter. Then what, huh? What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

She was crying now. Not a few tears. Sobbing. Shaking. The kind of crying you do after days of holding everything in so tight it starts to rot from the inside.

“I’m sorry,” Vi said. It was all she had. “I’m so sorry, Powder. I’m so sorry.”

Her sister didn’t answer. Just kept crying, like her voice had finally run out of space.

When Ekko came in, he went straight to Powder, wrapped his arms around her, steadying her. Holding her up.

“Hey, Vi. How’s it feeling?”

“I’ll be okay, man.”

“You need to cut the shit now.” His stare cut clean. It wasn’t a suggestion.

“I know,” Vi whispered. “I will. I promise.”

******

June 2013

The days were turning agreeably hot, edging toward summer. The trees cast lazy, dappled shadows over the terrace of the café where she sat with her sister and Ekko. Mylo was approaching, his usual goofy grin plastered across his face.

“What’s up, guys?”

“Hey, Mylo!”

“Hello, douchebag,” Powder greeted him, grinning wide. She was radiant, always more alive when the sun was out. She hated the cold. The rays made her hair shine blue like a flame.

“Think you could go one sentence without swearing?” Mylo asked as he dropped into the chair beside them.

“What would be the fun in that? That wouldn’t be me, and who wants that? Everyone’d be miserable, begging me to go back to normal. The universe would collapse under the weight of everyone’s boredom. I mean… what’s the point?” she replied, deadpan.

“Right. Still, you should try it once, just for science.”

He laughed, and the others followed, the tension of the week briefly forgotten.

“So, how’s the cripple doing?” he turned to Vi.

“Fuck you,” Vi shot back, grinning. “And I’m great, thanks. No after-effects, except for a few sexy new scars to add to the collection. Why would you call me that?”

“I just don’t want you forgetting how close it got,” Mylo said, simple as that.

“One point for you, Goofy!” Powder chimed.

“Vi’s actually job hunting,” Ekko said, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“No shit? You going legit on me now?” Mylo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“She definitely is,” Ekko confirmed.

“I definitely am,” Vi nodded. “Got some summer shifts lined up at The Last Drop. Now I’m trying to find a garage uptown, somewhere I can actually make decent money. Got more experience now, so…”

“You could build custom bikes. Restore vintage stuff. That kinda stuff brings in real cash, dude,” Mylo offered.

“That’s actually a great idea!” Vi’s eyes lit up.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s actually offensive,” Mylo muttered.

“I just don’t have the space for that, you know? Or the gear. No tools, no transport…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it! Still, it could be a project. Something long-term,” he insisted.

“I love that idea. I absolutely can’t believe you had it,” Powder gasped, mock-dramatic.

******

Things were starting to get a little better. Slowly. One step at a time, Vi was getting by.

It wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t be.

At first, the cravings were the worst. She wasn’t, like, an addict, not really. But she’d taken enough over the past few weeks that going back to normal felt like withdrawal. Her body ached for something to lean on. But mostly, her mind screamed in the absence of distraction. There was nothing left to keep the thoughts at bay. It forced her to face it all: the wreckage, the fear, the crushing weight of her choices.

Recovery didn’t come gently. She’d started feeling the pain not long after waking in the hospital. She’d been lucky in her misery. Loris had taken pity and paid the bills. She didn’t know what she would’ve done otherwise.

But none of it; none of the shaking, the shame, the bone-deep ache; hurt more than her absence. The raven-haired, blue-eyed angel she’d lost.

The knowledge that Caitlyn hated her now made Vi want to scream. She missed her voice. Her scent. The way her fingers barely touched her skin, featherlight and deliberate. She missed the tiny gap in her front teeth when she smiled. The way her arms had felt wrapped around her shoulders, so slight, and yet unshakeable.

Vi would’ve traded all of this; the pain, the detox, the crawling skin; for any torture she could name.
Because when she’d closed the door to Caitlyn’s apartment for the last time, a part of her had died. She hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t left a word. Hadn’t given her anything. And Caitlyn had deserved more. So much more than Vi could ever offer…but still, she had to try. It was too late to win her back. Too late to hope for that smile, for that warmth. But not too late to give her something. Not too late to refuse to let their story end that way.

She owed her that. She owed herself that.

That’s why she was pacing in front of Caitlyn’s building now, pulse pounding, hands clammy, heart caught somewhere in her throat. It was the right thing to do. She had to speak. Had to be vulnerable. Had to try.

She felt Caitlyn before she saw her.

Long strides echoed down the pavement, and a wave of nausea rolled through her.
She’d imagined this moment so many times. The way she moved, the way her sharp features would soften when she looked at her. The searing blue of her eyes. But her mind hadn’t done her justice. No memory could match the glorious reality of her. And seeing her now made Vi realize just how far gone she’d been without her.

When Caitlyn spotted her by the entrance of the building, she froze. Her stunned gaze scanned her face. Her shape. Her presence. Then her brows furrowed, and her eyes darkened.

“Vi,” she breathed.

“Caitlyn,” Vi uttered, hoarse.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was sharp. Cold.

“I was wondering…” Vi started, already unraveling. “If maybe…I could take a few minutes of your time. I won’t stay long, I just… I wanted to talk to you. You don’t have to say yes. You could just…tell me to fuck off.”

“I know I don’t have to say yes,” Caitlyn snapped.

That didn’t bode well.

“Please,” Vi pushed on. “Just listen to me. A few minutes. Then I’ll be out of your life. For good. I promise.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” Her tone cut, but Vi caught a flicker of something else. A crack in the wall. Curiosity.

“I get it. It’s probably too late. But… I’m kinda slow,” she offered, with a broken smile.

Caitlyn hesitated. You could see it: two halves of her pulling in opposite directions. The curious side usually won.

“Alright then. I’ll listen.”

“Thank you.” Vi exhaled, the relief already thinning her resolve.

She followed her up. The elevator ride was silent, heavy. And when she stepped inside the apartment, it hit her like a punch to the gut. The smell. The space. The ghost of what they used to be. Tears already pricked at her eyes. Not now.

Caitlyn dropped her bag and sat gracefully on the couch. Legs crossed, back straight. Arms folded like armor.

Vi remained standing, eyes lowered.

“Well. I’m listening.”

What now? Just say it, Vi. Just say it. Release the truth. It can’t get any worse.

“I’m sorry,” she began. “I know it’s a shitty way to start. And probably a useless thing to say. But I am. I really, really am.”

She swallowed. Caitlyn’s gaze didn’t waver.

“I’m going to say things now, and I don’t want you to take them as excuses. Because I don’t have any. No one forced me to make the choices I made. I just hope it might help you understand, maybe. Because I know you don’t. And I think… that not understanding is what’s killing you.”

She started pacing. Caitlyn’s eyes followed.

“I found my parents’ bodies when I was nine. In the street, just down from our building. Powder was five. I was supposed to be watching her.

“There was a riot that day. My dad didn’t come home. We heard shouting. My mom told me to stay put. She ran out. More screaming. Then gunshots. Blows. Then… silence. Powder was crying. She was so scared she peed herself.

“They never came back. So I went downstairs to see for myself.

“They were on the ground. Still. Blood everywhere. Their bodies were…like they’d been reaching for each other.”

She choked, but didn’t stop.

“I called 911. Then Vander because I didn’t know what to do. He took us in. For a while, it was hard, but he never let us down. And then, when I was sixteen, he had a heart attack. Just like that, he was gone too.

“It was just me and Powder. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t let the system tear us apart.

“We slipped through the cracks. I went to Benzo. Ekko. We tried to build something. Benzo was involved in shit; stealing cars, mostly, concealment; but he did it to put food on the table. I dropped out. Started working.

“Powder was smart. I wanted her to have something. A chance. So I did what I had to. That’s how it started.”

She paused. Dared to look at Caitlyn.

The woman’s mouth was slightly open, her expression unreadable.

“Like I said, I made my own choices. No one held a gun to my head. Vander would’ve hated what I did. My parents would’ve been so disappointed. But I could buy books. Clothes. Food. So I kept going.”

Vi’s voice grew quieter.

“When I met you… I didn’t think I’d ever be enough, you know, to get close to you. But I wanted to be. And when that happened, I thought I only had two choices: the really bad one, or the worst one.

“I picked the bad one. Lied. Because the worst one, telling the truth meant losing you.

And I couldn’t stand that.”

She stopped pacing. Stared at the floor.

“I’ve never been so selfish. So blind. I’ll never be able to say sorry enough for that. For not considering the pain it would cause you. For thinking I could be someone else. Someone good enough to stand beside you. To be your friend.”

She looked up again, barely.

“I knew I wasn’t good for you. From the very first second. I should’ve spared you.”

And then she couldn’t stand anymore. Her legs buckled and she slid to the floor, back to the wall, eyes locked on Caitlyn.

She sat there, legs folded beneath her, hands clenched in her lap. Letting the silence expand. Letting Caitlyn breathe, take it all in.

When she spoke again, her voice was low, almost trembling.

“You might find it ironic, but I actually hate lying. It’s like quicksand. Once you’re in, it’s harder and harder to climb out.

“Letting you go earlier would’ve hurt me. But it wouldn’t have hurt you. That’s probably my biggest regret.”

She exhaled, long and heavy.

“You gave me so much, Cait. And I know you talk big, but deep down, I don’t think you ever really believed you were enough. But you are. God, you are.”

Her voice cracked. But she didn’t stop.

“If there’s one thing you could take from all this mess, I wish it could be that.

“You’re stubborn. Quirky. You always have to be right. You’re painfully competitive. Obsessional. You hide behind big words, and you wear that mask every time you feel vulnerable.

“But you’re also kind. And open. And so funny. Freakishly observant. Sensitive. Gorgeous.

“You’re strong, Cait. Determined. One of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And when you walk into a room…”

She paused. Choked on her words.

“…you light it up.

“I’m so proud I got to be your friend, even if it didn’t last. You made me want to change. Not for you. For me.

“I’m looking for real work. I took help. But the truth is… you were the turning point.

“I got beat up. My sister begged me to stop. But, ultimately, it was you.”

She looked up. Finally.

A single tear traced its way down Caitlyn’s cheek.

Vi froze.

“No—no, don’t cry. I-I’m sorry.” She scrambled to her feet, panic blooming behind her ribs.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I never meant to hurt you. I know it doesn’t change anything…but it’s the truth.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Thank you, Caitlyn. For everything. For listening today. You didn’t have to. But I’m glad you did.”

She was backing away now. Toward the door.

“I didn’t want to leave things like that between us. You deserved more. Always did.”

“I’ll leave you in peace. You don’t have to carry this. You don’t have to carry me. No one has to know you were ever friends with someone like me.”

Her voice broke on the next words.

“I wish you the best in life. I can’t wait to see what great things you’ll do. I’ll always be grateful I knew you. And that I got to… say goodbye properly.”

That was it. She had let it all out. Spilled everything. She’d made her peace and emptied her chest. There was nothing left.

She hadn’t forgotten anything. Not this time.

One last look, just one, at the most beautiful face she would ever see. She begged her brain to hold onto it. To remember more. To remember better.

Then she turned on her heels, headed for the door. Just in time, before the tears began to fall.

“Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice stopped her. Gentle. Barely more than a breath.

“Yeah?” she answered, without turning back. Her hand clenched the door.

She was openly crying now, and she didn’t want the marvel to see it. She hated it. This liquid weakness making a show of itself on her scarred face. The warm, humiliating moisture on her cheeks. The salt stinging the corner of her lips.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Soft, deliberate. Caitlyn was approaching.

She stopped so close Vi could feel her warmth radiating against her back, not touching, but there. Solid.

“Will you look at me, Violet?” Her voice was delicate. Almost a whisper.

It only made the tears fall harder.

“I can’t,” Vi breathed.

The pain was too vivid. Too raw. She didn’t even register her body slumping. She just collapsed. Her forehead pressed on the door, her hands catching nothing, her tears spilling, soaking into the parquet in a silent confession. A broken sob tore from her chest before she could stop it. The pain was excruciating. It had been years since she cried like this. Maybe since she was a kid. But now it was too late.

The dam had ruptured. And the flood came. Devastating. Unrelenting. No filter. No holding back.

She hated that it was here. That it was now. That it was her.

She would’ve preferred anywhere else. Anyone else. But of course, it had to be in front of the only person who ever made her feel like this. This fucking fragile. Like a fraying rope, pulled too tight, trembling on the verge of snapping. The only person she will ever love.

Then…two arms.

Lean. Gentle. Wrapping cautiously around her waist. They pulled her close. Firm. Anchoring.

It was too much.

Her knees buckled and hit the floor with a soft thud. But Caitlyn held her. She held her as if she’d known all along this was coming.

Her body pressed against Vi’s back, solid and warm. Her cheek nestled against the side of Vi’s head, breath brushing her ear.

She didn’t let go. Not once.

And Vi wept, loud and broken, for what felt like forever.

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice like honey melting into her skin. “I’m here.”

Chapter Text

Coldplay

“And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try, you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you”

June 2013

Missing someone was a terrible thing.

Not the absence itself, but the void it carved. The presence of what’s no longer there, like a shadow that clings even in the dark. You carry it with you. Like a weightless burden, invisible but relentless. You’re not truly alone. Not when memory trails your steps like a ghost without purpose. The past becomes tactile. Heavy. A phantom limb that aches. Caitlyn had never known longing could be this brutal.

She’d been angry. Furious, even. And the anger had clung to her like armor, protecting her from the sharper grief underneath. It gave her something to hold on to, something that felt like control. But it clouded everything. Made it impossible to think clearly. To move on. And the truth was, she didn’t understand why it hurt so damn much. Surely there was a rational reason for why losing a friend, someone she barely knew, really; could leave such devastation. But this? This was grotesque.

Disproportionate.

Violet had disappeared without a word. No confrontation, no attempt to fix anything. Just silence. As if leaving was the easiest thing in the world. That’s what hurt the most. The unfinished edges, the lack of closure. And in the absence of answers, Caitlyn had filled in the blanks with pain.

Two months had crawled by like two years. She had counted the days like a prisoner. Clung to the hope of distance, of change. Her upcoming trip abroad had become a kind of promised land, an escape. She would disappear into the noise of another city. Somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere new.

Maybe then, she could shed her skin. Be reborn. Maybe then, she’d forget what it felt like to miss someone this much.

And then Vi had been there. Standing by her door, waiting. Asking to speak. Begging. She had nearly fallen to her knees right then.

How could she say no? She’d been waiting for this without admitting it; waiting for answers, for something solid to hold in place of silence. She thought it would set her free. Instead, it cracked her open. Vi had spoken like someone on the edge of a cliff, baring pieces of herself Caitlyn didn’t know how to hold. And yet, she’d held them. Every word. Every tremor.

She’d always said she wasn’t good with words, and still, she’d found them. Words that reached inside Caitlyn and pulled her apart with unbearable precision. Words that saw her. All she could see then was the truth. The person behind the pain. The weight of a life so far removed from hers, she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. And Caitlyn, who thought she knew herself, had felt something shift. Something give.

The words had taken her, reshaped her, and placed her back into herself, like the all-powerful hand of a giant.

When she heard Vi talk about her, how she could read her so well, how she knew the real Caitlyn, not just the polished surface everyone else saw, she had faltered. So easily.

And still, she understood that none of it had come easily to Vi. That every word had cost her something. But she had done it. For her. Not to get anything in return. Just to give her the dignity of understanding. And now that she knew, now that the veil had lifted, she couldn’t let her go. She didn’t want to.

She wanted her. Her company. Her voice, curling through the air like smoke. Her smile, crooked and rare. Her arms, her scent, her warmth. She wanted all of her. Even the broken parts. Especially those.

They were curled on the floor now, limbs tangled near the entrance of her apartment, like the storm hadn’t yet passed but the center had reached them. Vi was still crying, trembling from somewhere deep, and Caitlyn still held her like something precious. Something breakable.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else. The pain Vi carried had seeped into her own bones. She felt it like a second pulse. Her hands moved in slow, instinctive patterns, brushing gentle circles above her clothes, across her stomach, her ribs. To soothe. To contain. To be there.

No words passed between them. There was nothing to say. And Caitlyn doubted Vi could speak right now, anyway. The silence was not empty.

Eventually, Vi’s breathing slowed. The shudders softened. She clung to Caitlyn’s hands like they were lifelines, and Caitlyn held tighter in return.

“I… I’m so sorry about this,” Vi whispered.

“Don’t be,” Caitlyn replied, without hesitation.

“I don’t know what got into me…”

“You let go,” she said softly. “You needed to.”

Vi nodded faintly.

“I think saying goodbye was a lot harder than I thought,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to,” Caitlyn murmured into her hair.

“I do. You know I do.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“But… what I did is unforgivable.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Caitlyn answered, voice suddenly solid. “And I’ve decided it’s not.”

A pause. A breath.

“How?” Vi asked, barely audible.

“We all make mistakes,” Caitlyn said. “We play the cards we’re dealt. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“Will you… be able to trust me again?”

“In time,” she answered. “I just need you to talk to me.”

Vi nodded. Slowly, she began to rise. Caitlyn followed her, arms loosening, reluctantly, from around her body.

They stood, close. Face to face. No longer hiding. Their eyes found each other, and held. They were searching for something unspoken, and finding it there, in the other’s silence.

“What now?” Vi asked, tentative.

Caitlyn let the question sit between them for a moment. Then, she smiled, wide and real, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Now,” she said, “we start over. I’ll be gone for the summer, but… I hope you’ll be here when I come back.”

“I will be,” Vi said softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

And just like that, something shifted in her chest. The weight eased. Her lungs filled. And for the first time, it didn’t hurt to breathe.

******

The back of the limousine was overly comfortable. Almost suffocating, in its plush, perfectly controlled silence. Caitlyn dreaded the trip, the hours of transit, the stiffness of airports; but she couldn’t wait to be there. To finally land in England. Coming back to the source, this time with older eyes. Wiser ones, maybe.

Her parents sat across from her, visibly nervous. This was her first summer truly away from them. Farther than ever.

“Don’t forget to call us the moment you land, Caitlyn. And then again once you reach the hotel,” her mother insisted, as if repeating it might make it stick.

“I will, Mother. I promise,” Caitlyn replied, gently.

“You’ve been distracted lately, dear,” Cassandra said with that clipped tone she saved for times of worry. “I advise you get it together at once. If anything happens, Uncle Thomas is your first contact. Everything’s arranged.”

“Good. I’m glad I get to see him,” Caitlyn smiled. “I always liked Uncle Thomas.”

“He’s thrilled too,” her father added warmly.

“And remember,” Cassandra said again, straightening her spine, “this is not a vacation. You’re going there to work.”

“When did I ever forget to work, Mother?”

That earned her the faintest grin. One of those rare moments when even Cassandra couldn’t pretend her daughter was anything but relentlessly dutiful.

At the airport, her mother held her tight for a second too long.

“Be safe, darling. I love you.”

And then she let go, already smoothing her coat like the moment hadn’t just happened.

Her father’s embrace lingered.

“You’re going to have a great time, love. Take care of yourself. And call if you need anything.”

“I will. I love you both,” Caitlyn said, her voice steady, but her chest already aching with that strange, anticipatory absence.

******

September 2013

She had one of the best summers of her life.

There was something in London that had wrapped itself around her. Not like a new skin, but like a balm. The streets had become hers for a little while. The winding alleys, the two-story buses, the quiet chatter of people who called her love without knowing her name. She had fallen in love with the city. With its air. Its rhythm.

The internship at the Museum had gone better than expected. She had met people she could now call friends. She’d felt useful, curious again. Bright. Like a self she’d forgotten she could be.

She missed her parents. Her friends. Her flat. Her books. But most of all, God — she missed Vi.

She tried not to think about it too much. Not when there were new hands brushing hers, honey colored eyes meeting hers across shared dinners. There had been a girl. A soft-spoken, elegant woman with short blonde hair and a melodic laugh. They had laughed together. Kissed, even. Warmed each other’s beds for a couple of nights. But it had felt distant. Like a role she was playing half-heartedly.

Because that girl didn’t make her heart hammer out of sync. She didn’t make Caitlyn’s breath stutter at the mere proximity of skin. She didn’t smell like midnight heat and old leather, like something wild kept barely tamed, didn’t walk like a storm barely contained.

She wasn’t Vi.

And Caitlyn hadn’t missed her when she left the room.

The plane touched down. She told her parents she was too tired to stop by, that she’d go straight home. The truth was simpler: she wanted to rest… and she wanted to see her.

Her apartment welcomed her with its familiar quiet. She unpacked slowly. Showered. Tried to ground herself. But her hands were shaking with something she refused to name. She sat on the couch and grabbed her phone. She couldn’t wait anymore.

Caitlyn
Hello, Vi. I’m home, finally. I don’t know if you’re busy…

I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

She bit her lip. The last e-mails they had exchanged had been sparse, full of longing disguised as casual updates. Vi had told her about the new job at a garage uptown. She hated her boss. Said the money was good. Picked up shifts bartending again at The Last Drop.

Her phone buzzed.

Vi
Hey!

That’s my favorite British lady! How was the trip?

I’m not working tonight, actually.

Caitlyn
It was okay! Do you want to come over?

Vi’s reply was instant.

Be there in 30.

That was all it took to undo her. The anticipation coiled inside her chest like something alive. She paced. Wiped invisible dust from the counters. Rearranged a stack of books for the fifth time. She felt ridiculous. Restless.

And then, the knock. Soft and unmistakable.

She flung the door open without hesitation.

Vi stood there, her smile lazy, her eyes shining with something warm and inviting.

Caitlyn didn’t think. She threw herself into her arms, legs wrapping instinctively around her waist. Her face buried in Vi’s neck, breathing in that scent she hadn’t been able to forget.

Vi laughed, catching her without effort.

“Wow, Cait! I missed you too.” She chuckled, breath brushing her ear.

“Sorry,” Caitlyn whispered, blushing as she slid back down to the floor.

“Don’t be. Love the enthusiasm,” Vi grinned, her voice low and teasing.

“I just… it’s really good to see you.”

“You too, beautiful.”

God.
She said it so easily now. Beautiful. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Come in. I have coke in the fridge.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s a dangerously effective invitation.”

They settled on the couch. Caitlyn couldn’t stop talking. She told her everything: the museum, the city, her family, the places she’d explored. The quiet parks and bustling pubs, the markets and the Thames and the strange comfort of being anonymous in a big city. She didn’t mention the girl. Somehow, it didn’t feel relevant.

Vi listened like she always did, with her whole face. Her eyes never strayed. She asked questions constantly, hungry for every detail. Not just what Caitlyn had done, but how she had felt.

Her lip curled slightly whenever she smiled, pulling at the small scar. Caitlyn could have stared at it for hours.

“What about you?” she asked at last. “How was your summer?”

“Busy,” Vi said with a small laugh. “Working, eating, sleeping. Rinse and repeat. Not exactly thrilling.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“I’m better,” she said, her tone serious now. “There were rough patches. But I wasn’t alone. And I’m clean. I intend to stay that way.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Caitlyn said, her voice soft. “I’m proud of you.”

Vi smiled, eyes dropping for a second.

“I’m trying to save up some money,” she added, a spark lighting her voice. “It’s gonna take a while, but… I sold the Triumph.”

Caitlyn blinked. “What? Why?”

“I got a good deal. Benzo barely uses his car, and I needed the cash. Look, this might sound crazy, but… I think maybe, if I could get the space, the tools… I could start something of my own. Bring old engines back to life and sell them off clean. Just me, no boss, no bullshit.”

She was hesitant. Hopeful. Glowing, in her own quiet way.

“That would be amazing, Vi.” Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “God, I’m so happy to hear you say that. You have to believe in yourself. You’re so…”

The words vanished in her throat.

“So… what?” Vi teased, eyes dancing.

“Well…”

“So smart? Amazing? Incredibly sexy?”

That grin. That crooked, infuriating grin. Caitlyn wanted to kiss it off her face.

“I was going to say humble, actually,” she deadpanned.

Vi laughed, loud and delighted.

“Nobody’s perfect,” she shrugged.

But Caitlyn, breath caught in her chest, wasn’t so sure of that.

******

November 2013

Caitlyn sat in their usual booth at the diner, her fingers curled around a drink, a book propped open in her other hand. Vi was late, fifteen minutes, by her count. But that was Vi. And Caitlyn was used to it by now.

The bell above the door jingled, and Caitlyn didn’t even have to look up to know it was her. Vi stormed in, hair slightly wild, frustration etched all over her face. She made her way straight to the table and dropped into the seat across from her, pulling off her jacket with a sigh.

“Hey, gorgeous. Sorry I’m late,” she said, her voice rough around the edges.

“Tough day?” Caitlyn asked, her tone calm, already sensing the answer.

“The worst,” Vi growled. “Damn, That guy’s a prick. He spends the whole day scamming people, and then loses his shit when he realizes some of us aren’t lying to customers. I swear, the more money people have, the greedier they get.”

Caitlyn offered a sympathetic smile. “Not all of them, fortunately. But yeah… assholes are evenly distributed. You’re brave to deal with that every day.”

She reached across the table, placed her hand gently over Vi’s. Vi caught it, held on tight.

“Yeah, well. Sorry to bring it here. You swear so easily now! I’m starting to think I’m rubbing off on you.” She grinned, half-mischievous, half-soft. As usual, it made Caitlyn's stomach twist. “How was your day?”

“Long. But productive. I had lunch with Jayce.”

Vi blinked, just once. “Oh. Cool.”

It still made things tense between them, the whole Jayce situation. He hadn’t taken it well, when Caitlyn had chosen to keep Vi in her life. He hadn’t said anything to Mel or anyone else, and she was grateful for that. But he didn’t understand. He didn’t need to.

“You’re going to have to see each other again eventually, you know. I want the two of you to at least be… cordial.”

Vi lifted a brow. “Hey, I don’t have a problem with the guy. He just wanted to protect you. I get that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Vi hesitated, jaw tightening. “The problem is… he was right. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with me now, and honestly? He’s still right.” Vi was wound up tonight. Sharp-edged.

Caitlyn’s patience snapped just a little.

“Are you saying I was wrong, then?” Her eyebrows lifted, a quiet warning.

“I’m saying… you still being here is a mystery. To him. And to me.”

Her gaze dropped to the table. And something in Caitlyn flared, not anger, but weariness. A kind of enough.

“Then stop questioning this. Stop questioning me.” Her voice was firmer now. “We’re friends. You made a mistake. I forgave you. End of story.”

“But—”

“I’d like for us to move on. All of us.” The tone in her voice surprised even her. It sounded… like her mother.

Vi didn’t argue further. She muttered a resigned, “Fine…”

Caitlyn exhaled and sat back.

“Now,” she said, “we’re going to have a nice dinner. You’re going to tell me something Powder did in the past five days that will make me laugh, and we’re both going to forget about the world for a while. Got it?”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “So this is my life now? You bossing me around like a drill sergeant and me just nodding like an obedient little puppy?”

“Hmm…” Caitlyn pretended to think about it. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay.” Vi shrugged. But her smirk gave her away.

******

December 2013

“Hey, would you look at that? We’re running in circles!” Vi called out as she stepped into Caitlyn’s apartment, a wide grin on her face. Christmas again. Same place. Same warmth.

“Perfect circles,” Caitlyn replied softly, her eyes already drinking her in.

Vi looked even more beautiful now. The black button-up hung open, revealing a cream-colored V-neck tee that skimmed her collarbones, and the fitted black trousers carved her silhouette like a secret meant to be kept.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Vi said, winking as she kicked off her boots.

They had dinner, something delivered, of course. Caitlyn had stopped pretending to cook, despite Vi’s many, hopeful attempts to change that. The food didn’t matter anyway. The company did.

Later, Vi handed her a wrapped box, and Caitlyn tore into it with a curious smile.

“Wh—”

“It’s a Polaroid,” Vi announced, leaning back with satisfaction. “You’re in college, Cait. These are supposed to be the best years of your life. You should keep some memories. I noticed you never take pictures.”

Caitlyn unwrapped the camera, her smile blooming. She lifted it immediately and snapped a photo of Vi, who looked straight into the lens like she was looking at something sacred.

The picture slid from the bottom of the device, and Caitlyn caught it carefully, giving it a few gentle shakes. When the image formed, her breath caught.

Vi’s smile. The softness in her eyes. The way she looked at her… as if she were made of light, the one who had set the sky ablaze.

“Perfect,” Caitlyn whispered, eyes still fixed on the photo, as if afraid it might vanish.

Vi leaned forward and gently plucked the Polaroid from her fingers. Caitlyn’s eyes met hers, just in time to see Vi press the button and take a photo of her in return.

“Vi!” Caitlyn gasped.

“What? You have yours, why can’t I have mine?” Vi laughed.

“Because it’s my present. That means I get to decide.”

“Oh, grow up,” Vi mocked, playful and smug. Until she looked down.

The teasing died instantly.

She stared at the photo in silence, her expression unreadable. One second passed. Then two. Then ten.

“What?” Caitlyn asked, her stomach tightening.

Vi shook her head, slow. “Nothing,” she murmured, barely audible.

“Come on. Let me see.”

Vi hesitated, then handed her the photo.

Caitlyn looked down. She was caught mid-laugh, her gaze locked on Vi, something dangerous burning behind her eyes. Her hair fell in soft waves over one shoulder, lips parted, smiling.

The photo was… beautiful. Even Caitlyn could admit that. There was something raw and luminous in it. The intimacy of the moment, frozen on paper.

She passed it back to Vi, who took a final glance before slipping it carefully into her pocket.

“Thank you, Violet,” Caitlyn said, her voice low. “It’s a perfect gift.”

Vi didn’t answer. She turned and disappeared into the living room.

A few seconds later, music began to play. Bloodstream, by Stateless. Slow, haunting, impossible to ignore.

Vi returned and walked toward her, hand extended.

“Dance with me?”

Her eyes shimmered. Open. Vulnerable.

“You… you can’t dance,” Caitlyn said, foolishly, breathlessly.

Vi smiled. “I know.”

She took Caitlyn’s hand and laced their fingers together, the other resting lightly on the small of her back. She pulled her in, until they were pressed together, body to body. Caitlyn’s arm curled over Vi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing the nape of her neck.

Their eyes met… and held.

They began to sway, slowly, like the world outside the apartment had been turned down. Caitlyn stared into the stormy grey-blue of her eyes and felt herself slipping under. Drowning, softly.

The heat of Vi’s hand on her back spread like fire. The fingers curled with hers pulsed like a second heartbeat. Her gaze dropped to Vi’s mouth, blurred and close, and something broke inside her.

She gasped, a sound barely there, and let her head fall gently into the crook of Vi’s neck, before she could do something irretrievable. Before she crossed the line they kept circling.

The music played on. And they swayed, like that, in silence. Perfect circles.

I think I might've inhaled you
I could feel you behind my eyes
You gotten into my bloodstream
I could feel you floating in me

******

December 31^st 2013

The bar was more lively than the year before. The Last Drop pulsed with laughter, music, and the soft thud of glasses meeting wood. Once again, Caitlyn had convinced her friends to join her there to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

“Jayce,” she said, leaning in just enough to avoid Mel’s ears, “promise me you’ll behave.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve promised that twice already.”

“Then a third time shouldn’t be so hard.”

Jayce sighed, but there was warmth behind it. “Don’t worry, Sprout. If you say she’s changed, then I believe you. I had a great time last year, didn’t I?” He paused. His voice softened. “But, Cait…”

“Yes?”

“You two are awfully close. There’s something there, isn’t there?”

It wasn’t like Jayce to tiptoe around a question. His hesitation made her chest tighten.

“We’re friends,” Caitlyn replied, firm and measured.

“Right.”

They joined the rest of the group at the table. The conversation picked up as if no time had passed, as if the last twelve months had folded neatly into the shape of a single night.

Then Vi appeared. She moved through the crowd with that unhurried ease she had, as if people naturally made way for her. She greeted everyone, flashing a smile that made Caitlyn’s breath catch for reasons she no longer tried to rationalize.

“Jayce,” Vi said gently, almost shyly, “can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

A pause. Then a glance to Caitlyn, brief but questioning. Caitlyn gave the smallest nod.

“Sure,” Jayce said.

Caitlyn watched them walk toward the door, a knot twisting slowly in her stomach. Vi hadn’t told her she’d do this. She hadn’t said a word about it. And yet, Caitlyn wasn’t surprised. She had come to understand something quietly extraordinary about Vi: there was almost nothing she wouldn’t do for her.

Vi, who hated explaining herself. Vi, who usually fled from tension, from formality, from anything that smelled like performance. And still, she was out there now, making peace. For Caitlyn.

When they returned, several minutes later, both were smiling. Something in Caitlyn’s chest unclenched.

The night unfolded gently after that. Laughter, banter, a round of drinks too many. When the countdown began, Caitlyn reached for Vi’s hand without hesitation. Their fingers twined together like they belonged.

Everything inside her was singing. There, in the haze of lights and bodies and countdowns, she allowed herself a truth she could no longer push away.

Vi made her happy. Not just in moments. Not just in memory. In the very core of her being.

Being near her made every other presence feel pale, every voice quieter. Vi’s smile, that reckless, radiant thing, made the world fade out.

“5…”

“4…”

“A perfect circle,” Vi whispered, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s ear.

“3…”

“2…”

“1.”

Their bodies collided in an embrace that wasn’t premeditated. It wasn’t planned, or polite.
It was inevitable. A force drawn by something older, stronger than reason, magnetic and absolute.
Nothing in the room could have stopped it.

******

March 2014

Caitlyn turned up the heat in her car. She glanced at her watch and sighed.

Vi should’ve been here by now.

She looked out the window, across the street, toward the garage. She knew how it went. Vi’s boss always found a way to tack on some mindless task right before she clocked out. It was nothing new. But tonight mattered.

Caitlyn had been planning this for months. It had cost her. Not just money, though there was that too, but secrecy, maneuvering, conversations she’d rather not have had. Jayce had helped cover her tracks. To her parents, it was just an extravagant gift for her oldest friend. A ridiculous celebration of their "friendship anniversary."

They hadn’t asked many questions. Because Caitlyn Kiramman never did anything unreasonable.
She was prudent. Precise. Predictable.

And so, of course, they didn’t know about Vi. Not yet.

Caitlyn wasn’t ready for that fight. Not with her mother. Not with the tidy, inviolable world they lived in. It would’ve started a war. It’s a problem for later, she told herself: her new mantra. Later Caitlyn could deal with it.

Tonight Caitlyn just had to breathe.

She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear the door open. Only the shift in air, the sudden presence beside her.

“Hey, Cait! Sorry. My asshole boss, you know how it is… I won’t start ranting again, I don’t have the energy. You’ve probably heard enough of it to last a lifetime anyway.” Vi slid into the passenger seat, buckled in.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Caitlyn said, lips twitching, “I’m here to listen to your grumbling anytime.”

“How sweet of you.”

“How patient of me.”

Vi side-eyed her. “So, where are you taking me, exactly?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

Vi narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Okay…”

Caitlyn started the engine, pulled into the street. They drove out of the city’s core, past the familiar buildings, past the line that marked the South Side. The streets got quieter. They reached a commercial zone, half-lit by streetlamps, half-swallowed by dusk.

Caitlyn parked and grabbed her purse.

Vi followed her to what looked like an industrial warehouse. Tall, weathered, massive. Caitlyn rummaged through her bag and pulled out a ring of keys. With a satisfying click, she unlocked the gate and pushed it open.

The inside swallowed them whole. It was huge, mostly empty; a cavernous space that smelled of dust, metal, possibility. Along the back wall stood an array of tools and machines, neatly stored. In the corner: an old car, rusted but still holding its shape. Waiting.

Vi froze. “Cait… what is this?” Her voice was small. Tight.

Caitlyn took a breath. “This is your garage. There are workshops, a ton of equipment… don’t ask me to name them, I have no idea what half of it is. You’ll probably need some extra tools, but I figured this would be a start.”

Vi didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, raising both hands as if to stop time. She squeezed her eyes shut, like maybe the space would disappear if she couldn’t see it.

Caitlyn went still. She’d expected this part. The refusal. Vi never took anything easily, least of all kindness.

She waited. Silent. Steady.

Vi opened her eyes again, her voice low, flat. “What the fuck did you do?”

“The lease is signed. One year. It’s done.”

Vi spun on her heels, taking it in, jaw clenched. Her hands found her waist, then fell again. She pointed toward the car, incredulous.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. A very old car? The owner said everything in the place is yours. He didn’t want to deal with any of it.”

“Caitlyn…” Vi stepped closer to the car. Her voice broke slightly. “This is a fucking Mustang. It’s in rough shape, but…”

Caitlyn watched her with quiet satisfaction as she approached the car slowly and ran her fingers along the dusted frame. Vi’s awe was worth everything. She turned back to Caitlyn, eyes sharp, unreadable. For a moment, Caitlyn couldn’t tell if it was anger or disbelief or something else entirely.

Vi sighed. Long. Heavy.

“You know I… I can’t accept this, right?”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. “What I know is: the papers are signed. The place is yours. And here”—she extended her palm, revealing the keys— “are the keys.”

“I can’t. Cait… this is too much. It must’ve cost you a fortune. Why would you… This is insane, even for you!”

“It’s just a nudge,” Caitlyn said softly. “You deserve it. You’re going to make it. Just don’t forget me when you’re rich and famous, alright?”

Vi’s expression cracked. Her eyes glistened.

“How are you real?” she whispered, barely holding herself together.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Vi crossed the space in two strides and threw her arms around her, fierce, desperate, grateful.
Caitlyn held her back just as tightly, feeling the tremor in her body. No words. Just the quiet weight of love, and faith, and the unbearable beauty of being seen.

******

May 2014

“No really, Vi, you shouldn’t come. I’m really sick.”

“Well, a fever. I’m cold and I’m sweating like a sinner in church. My head is pounding like a drum solo.”

“Alright, I’ll keep you updated. Thanks, you too. Bye.”

She hung up and let the phone fall onto the couch beside her, barely able to lift her arm back under the blanket. The TV murmured in the background, volume low, just enough to distract her from the throbbing in her skull. The shutters were down. Shadows wrapped around the room like cotton.

Her mother had already called the doctor. She had the medicine. She had everything she needed.
Except maybe a body that didn’t feel like it was on fire.

A few minutes passed, blurred. Then the sound of her front door. Only two people had a spare key. Her mother. And Vi.

She barely lifted her head, it felt too heavy, and saw Vi slip inside, a plastic bag dangling from one hand. She didn’t say a word. Just went straight to the kitchen. Caitlyn heard muffled movements, the sound of a cupboard, running water.

“What are you doing?” she managed, her voice hoarse.

Vi appeared a second later and crouched beside her, eyes soft, gaze steady.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing?”

“I told you not to come,” Caitlyn mumbled, trying for stern but failing spectacularly. “You’re going to get sick.”

Vi smiled, small and crooked. “But… who’s gonna take care of you, then? That’s highly unreasonable, Ms. Kiramman. I’m afraid I can’t allow it. Did you eat today?”

Bingo, Caitlyn thought.

“I can’t eat, Violet,” she breathed.

“Well, I brought soup. From that ridiculously expensive place you like. So you’re gonna drink it later, okay? I’m getting you some water. Hydration is key.”

“Hmmm.”

“That’s what I thought.” Vi chuckled softly, disappearing again.

When she returned, she had a cool cloth in her hand. She gently lifted Caitlyn’s head and slid a pillow beneath it, then laid her head down on her lap. Her fingers moved with an unexpected grace, brushing the cloth along Caitlyn’s burning forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” Vi muttered.

“Told you.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Like hell.”

“Okay.”

She rested the cloth across her forehead, then began to massage her skull with gentle, practiced fingertips, the kind of touch that knew exactly where to press, where to linger.

She traced the line of Caitlyn’s eyebrows. Her temples. Behind her ears. The ridge beneath her eyes. Each stroke melted something locked tight.

Caitlyn thought she’d died. And if so, death was far kinder than she’d expected. It felt like floating.

“Hmm,” she moaned, unable to hold it in.

“That alright?” Vi asked softly.

“Yes. God, yes,” Caitlyn whispered.

“You can call me Vi.”

So stupid. So sweet. Caitlyn smiled, eyes fluttering closed. She was so annoying. She was perfect.

Caitlyn loved her.

“Tell you what,” Vi murmured, brushing hair off her face. “We’re gonna watch a movie. I’ll keep doing this until you feel better. How’s that sound?”

“What movie do you want to see?”

“I’m gonna give you a hint, okay? Ready?” Vi leaned down and whispered in the quietest, creepiest voice imaginable: “I see dead people…”

Caitlyn laughed, weakly.

“Alright then. As long as dead people don’t keep you from doing this, I’m fine with whatever comes.”

Vi laughed too, soft as silk, and reached for the remote.

She put the movie on, settled back, and resumed her gentle work. A wave of peace washed over Caitlyn. Not drug-induced. Not from the fever. But something deeper. Warm. Steady. Vi flipped the cloth over, letting the cool side meet her skin again. Her fingers threaded through Caitlyn’s hair, dragging lightly, her short nails scratching just enough to send a shiver down Caitlyn’s spine.

She didn’t fight it. She let it go.

******

August 2014

The sun hung high in the sky, an unrelenting ball of fire casting its golden heat over the endless highway. The asphalt, dark and shimmering, seemed to ripple like water under the harsh light, as if the earth itself were breathing out warmth. Through the open windows, the air felt heavy, thick with the weight of summer. The distant horizon, once clear, now seemed to waver, its sharp lines blurring and bending.

Trees, rocks, and distant buildings melted into the air, their outlines twisting and stretching as though they were painted on a canvas that was slowly being pulled apart. It wasn’t heat that you could touch, but something ethereal, rising in the air; an invisible veil of warmth that blurred everything it touched.

The car hummed steadily along the road, but the world outside felt like a dream, a place caught between reality and illusion, where the heat itself played tricks on the eyes. The closer you got, the more everything seemed to melt away, swallowed by the shimmering veil of summer's embrace.

Caitlyn turned her head.

Vi was driving, and for a moment, maybe longer, Caitlyn just watched her.

The warm light carved her features in gold. The faintest curve of her full lips. The slight furrow in her brow. Her longer hair caught in the wind. She looked peaceful. More than that. She looked… luminous.

“Porcelain” by Moby floated through the speakers, soft and hypnotic.

Caitlyn reached out and threaded her fingers through Vi’s pink hair.

“Your hair’s getting long,” she murmured.

“Should I cut it?” Vi glanced at her with a crooked grin.

“It’s your hair. Do as you please.” Caitlyn’s voice dipped. “But I quite like it this way.”

Vi’s eyes twinkled. “Good to know.”

“Geez, get a room,” Powder groaned from the backseat.

Caitlyn blinked, startled. She’d forgotten they weren’t alone.

That was Vi’s superpower, after all. She made the rest of the world vanish.

“Everyone will have their own room, Powder, don’t worry,” Caitlyn laughed.

“How big is this beach house, anyway?” Ekko asked.

“Big enough,” she said. “And just a few steps from the ocean.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Powder leaned forward. “How come your fancy-ass parents let us come?”

Caitlyn winced. “…They don’t actually know. They’re in France. They think I’m here with Jayce and Mel. Which is… technically true.”

“Hiding the hood rats. Smart move, Kiramman. Should we ride in the trunk next time?” Powder smirked.

“Powder!” Vi scowled. “You’re lucky you’re getting ten days in a beach house for free, you ungrateful gremlin.”

“Alright, alright. I’m just messing. I’m actually super excited. I’ve never had a rich-person vacation before.”

“Oh, this is gonna be memorable,” Ekko grinned.

“You bet your ass, Little Man!” Vi added.

Then she turned to Caitlyn with a softness she didn’t often show in front of others.

She mouthed: Thank you.

And Caitlyn melted, silently, completely.

******

The ocean was restless that day. Wind tore through the waves. The horizon pulsed.

Caitlyn had stopped reading. Her book lay abandoned on the table beside her. She couldn’t stop watching Vi. She was playing volleyball with Jayce, Ekko, and Mel. Her muscles flexed as she jumped, dove, laughed. The sun painted her in sweat and light. Her skin was glowing. Her abs impossible. Her back a sculpture. Her shoulders dusted in freckles.

It was the first time they’d seen each other in swimsuits. They both noticed. And neither of them said a word.

But Caitlyn felt it. In the way their gazes clung to each other just a second too long. Over and over. In the heat under her skin that had nothing to do with the sun.

She craved to touch her.

She thought she’d been good at suppressing it. At keeping it at bay. She was wrong. Here, now, it pulsed hotter than ever. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the months of denial. But her body had stopped asking permission. It responded on its own.

That night, her dreams burned.

She lay in her bed, sheets tangled around her legs, her panties soaked. Her mind was on fire with images she didn’t try to suppress anymore. Vi’s hands on her skin. Her mouth. Her voice. That scar. The rings in her nose, on her ear. The heat between them. The hunger she’d buried so long it had grown teeth. Vi…touching her, devouring her, filling her. Her own hand slid down, brushing her stomach. Her fingers pressed lightly over her clit, even through the fabric, and the pleasure was instant.

She saw Vi’s face behind her eyes. The way she looked at her when she thought Caitlyn wasn’t watching. She felt her scent like a ghost beside her. She couldn’t help but be drawn to her, like a moth to flame, helpless against the pull of something she’d never fully dared to understand. She felt it deep in her bones, that ache, that hunger; carved so far into her it felt etched into her soul

She moved her fingers in slow, deliberate circles, whispering Vi’s name into the dark. Her hips lifted to meet her own hand, her breath catching, teeth biting into her lip. It didn’t take long. She shattered.

Her body had been waiting for this, for her, for so long. It had begged her, whispered to her in the quiet dark, again and again. And Caitlyn had always pretended not to hear. Her core had a voice of its own, soaked in want, in something too raw to name. It didn’t just ask, it pleaded. It didn’t want her permission. It demanded her surrender. And for the first time, Caitlyn didn’t turn away.

It wasn’t new. But it was the first time she let herself break with Vi’s name on her tongue.

She didn’t cry. But she could’ve.

******

On their last night, they built a bonfire on the beach. Drinks in hand. Sand between their toes. The moon spilled silver over the water, and laughter floated in the dark.

Caitlyn looked around, at each of them. Ekko. Powder. Jayce. Mel. Vi.

Her gaze settled, of course, on her. She was deep in conversation with Ekko, animated and laughing, the glow of the fire dancing in her grey-blue eyes. And she knew, with bone-deep certainty, she had never been happier. Never more herself.

She didn’t want it to end. But it would. All good things did.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Her skin trembled. Her breath came shallow. Rest was impossible. So she rose. Pulled on her robe. Walked barefoot through the house. The quiet creaked. Every step felt like a decision.

She paused outside Vi’s room, hand hovering. She knocked softly.

No answer. Her bed was empty

She found her on the terrace, barefoot, perched on a lounger under the stars, staring out at the dark ocean. Her back was slightly hunched, arms wrapped loosely around her legs. The moonlight cast silver patterns across her skin, painting her in stillness.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Caitlyn asked softly from behind.

Vi jumped, visibly startled, spinning around with wide eyes and a sharp breath.

“Holy shit!” She exhaled in a shaky laugh, still panting. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry…” Caitlyn murmured, sheepish.

“It’s okay.” Vi smiled through her nerves. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Vi settled back onto the lounger and spread her legs apart slightly, casual, instinctive. “Come here.” She tapped the space between them.

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Caitlyn climbed between her legs, her back resting snug against Vi’s chest. Vi wrapped her arms around her waist, and her hands settled low on her stomach, warm and still. Her chin dropped to Caitlyn’s shoulder, and they breathed together in silence.

“This is beautiful,” Caitlyn murmured, her gaze lost in the vastness ahead.

The ocean shimmered under the moon, soft waves folding into each other like breath. The sky above was scattered with stars, thick as dust.

“Yeah,” Vi replied, voice low and husky. It sent goosebumps along Caitlyn’s throat. “I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to enjoy this one last time.”

“We’ll come back, if you want.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” Vi said in a hush that wrapped around Caitlyn like heat.

She closed her eyes. Just for a second. Just to survive that.

“Where do you see yourself in the future?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know… like, five years from now?”

Vi paused, thoughtful.

“Hmm. I dunno. I hope my sister’ll be in college. Or maybe she’ll have a job she loves, something stable. As for me… maybe a little house in the countryside. Just below the mountains. A garage big enough to work on bikes, old cars. Nothing fancy. Just enough to live. I never needed much. You’d come visit me when you got tired of the city. We’d ride. Walk in the forest. Maybe swim naked in a lake at midnight or something.”

She chuckled, and Caitlyn laughed with her, their smiles quiet and soft.

“It would be amazing, you know. Maybe I’ll do more than visit. Maybe we’ll be roommates. I’ll just have to make the commute every day.”

Vi huffed a short laugh. “Okay, now I was going for the realistic version. I didn’t know we were allowed to dream like that. I would’ve answered differently.”

Caitlyn turned her head, slowly, until their faces were inches apart. Their noses nearly touched. Her breath caught.

“Why is it so unrealistic?” she asked, her voice low and steady.

Vi’s eyes flicked between hers. She let out a small, incredulous snort.

“Come on, Cait. Are you really asking me that?”

“Yes, Vi. I am really asking you that.”

She meant it. She needed the answer. Needed to hear why a life together wasn’t possible.

Vi hesitated. Then her voice dropped, quiet and resigned.

“Well, because… you’ll probably want your own life. Your parents definitely wouldn’t approve of you living in those conditions, especially not with someone like me. You’re meant for more. You’ll travel. And eventually, there’ll be a Mrs. Kiramman. Someone who matches your life.”

Caitlyn’s eyes burned. Not with anger. But with something deeper. A hunger she could no longer contain.

She searched Vi’s face like it held a code she could crack.

Their heads hadn’t moved.

“Did I say something wrong?” Vi asked, her voice gentler now, almost unsure.

“No.”

“Where do you see yourself in five years, then?”

“I can’t say.”

“You can say anything you want.”

“…Vi.” Her name was a plea.

Vi didn’t speak. Instead, she reached out, fingertips brushing Caitlyn’s cheek. Her eyes pierced her like an arrow dipped in devotion, slow and devastating. Her thumb slid along her cheekbone, and Caitlyn swore she could feel that touch in her spine.

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

Caitlyn lifted her hands and cupped Vi’s face; reverent, hesitant, then sure. Her fingers trembled slightly as they tightened around her jaw, pulling her close.

Then it happened.

A breath. A pause. And then…

Lips met.

It was a tender collision. There was no hesitation. Only gravity. Their lips met like they’d always known the path, as if their mouths had been waiting for this exact alignment. It was a slow dance, unrushed and aching, a silent promise sealed in silk. Caitlyn’s heart hammered in her chest, frantic, like the wings of a trapped bird.

Caitlyn kissed her with hunger born of months, maybe years, of longing. Her lips pressing deeper, her breath catching with every shift. She tilted her head, parted her lips just enough to draw Vi in further.

Vi came willingly.

Caitlyn’s tongue slipped between Vi’s lips, gentle at first, then bolder. Their mouths opened to each other like the gates of heaven. Their tongues met in lazy, coaxing strokes, not rushed, but reverent. Curious. Addictive.

Vi’s taste bloomed, sweet and warm like nectar laced with fire. She inhaled her like air after drowning. The air between them thickened, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, everything they had carried in silence, now rushing to the surface beneath their skin.

As the kiss deepened, it stopped being a kiss at all. It became a tether. A current. A surge of heat and light that flooded every dark and hidden corner in them. It wasn't just touch. It was recognition.

Her entire body turned, legs crossing around Vi’s waist, thighs tight against her hips. Vi’s hands gripped her, grounding her. Her touch was fire and safety at once.

Caitlyn moaned softly into her mouth, the sound low and desperate. Her hands slid into Vi’s hair, fisting it tight, and Vi gasped into the kiss.

She kissed the scar on her upper lip. She tasted the salt of her skin, the faint sweetness of her breath. They kissed and kissed and kissed… like they’d been starving.

The world around them dissolved.

There was no wind, no ocean, no sky. Just heat and need and the impossible softness of lips colliding.

It was the kind of kiss that rewrote something in the blood. The first kiss of a lifetime.

When they finally parted, breathless and dazed, they stayed forehead to forehead, their eyes still closed. As if trying to trap the moment between their lashes, imprint behind their eyelids, and never let it slip away, making it last eternally. Like they needed to secure it, never let it be tainted by reality.

Time didn’t restart. It just… paused there, with them.

Caitlyn opened her eyes. Vi was watching her, unreadable and open all at once.

Caitlyn pressed her lips against Vi’s forehead. Long. Firm. Final.

Then she stood.

She looked back only once.

And saw understanding flicker across Vi’s face like the spark of a match.

She left without a word. A storm of longing and fear unfurling under her skin.

Chapter Text

Freya Ridings

“There is an ocean so dark, down below the waves
Where you watch while these dreams gently float away
And there is a silence so soft, it's only memory
Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me

But I can't hear it now
Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning
I don't know if I could
I watched a door close for good
'Cause I couldn't keep it open”

September 2014

There was something grounding about putting your hands in grease. Feeling the materials, spinning metal pieces in your palm over and over until you understood how they function, or why they didn’t. Disassemble. Clean. Repair. Replace. Reassemble. Mount a car body, polish the paint. See the result with your eyes, feel it in your fingertips, hear the satisfying growl of the engine as it came alive beneath your hands.

It soothed Vi.

She could lose herself in the work for hours, untouched by the ticking of the clock or the slow fall of dusk. Just steel, oil and focus. It was her antidote. Her alternative to drugs, alcohol, or violence… a better one. A sane one. It kept her mind from circling aimlessly, chasing answers inside a maze with no center.

It had been three weeks since that night on the beach. Three weeks since her tongue had discovered the taste of Caitlyn. Since her body had woken as if it had been asleep for twenty-two years. Her skin hadn’t felt the same since. Always tingling, always restless. A hunger written into her pores.

Three weeks since Caitlyn had left her in the warm night air, sunken beneath the ashes of a hunger that would never be fed, mourning a love that had never truly belonged to her. Vi hadn’t needed an explanation. She had understood.

But understanding didn’t stop the ache. Her solitude had settled between her legs, replacing Caitlyn’s heat with thick, dark smoke; evanescent, yet suffocating. Out of reach, but crushing all the same.

They’d kept in touch. A few texts. Some brief calls. But it was a busy time of year. Powder and Ekko had just started university, both with scholarships. Vi had made sure everything was in place. That they were prepared. That they’d be safe. Especially Powder.

Vi had eyes on the house, people ready to intervene the second the alarm was raised. Even if nothing had happened in years, a cold shiver still climbed her spine when she thought of him. Silco.

Vi worked obsessively on the Mustang, gathering what she needed, stretching every coin. She was confident she’d get a good price once it was done. Six months left. She could make it. Then she could renew the lease. Build something more.

Maybe, with Caitlyn’s help, she could even dream a little further.

A loud thud rattled the metal doors.

She jumped and turned toward the entrance. Her heart caught in her throat.

A tall, broad man stood in the doorway, backlit by the sunlight. Square jaw. Full beard. Solid presence.

“Loris?” Vi gasped.

“Vi.” He nodded. “Sorry to interrupt. Benzo said you’d be here.”

She wiped her hands on a rag and walked toward him. “Yeah, no problem. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Busy.” His tone dropped. “There was movement, Vi.”

Her body tensed. “What happened?”

“Sevika hit one of Smeech’s places. Showed up with a crew, heavily armed. Took everything. Left half the men on the ground.”

Vi’s brows furrowed. “What the hell’s gotten into her?”

“Silco’s on the move. He left town. We don’t know where or for how long, but word is he’s gone far. He handed things to Sevika — probably ordered her to remind everyone who’s still in charge.”

He looked down, jaw tight. The concern etched in his face chilled her.

“He’s up to something, isn’t he?” Her voice came out thin, edged with dread.

“We don’t know yet. But he’s looking for something. That much is clear. And Vi…” He stepped closer. “I know you’re worried about Powder. So am I. Silco hates your guts. You’ve always been a threat. He’s held back because of your sister. But if he sees an opening… if he thinks he can use you to break her, he won’t hesitate.”

He gripped her shoulder, firm and heavy. “Watch your back, sister.”

“I will.” Vi swallowed hard. “Thank you, Loris.”

He nodded once. “You know where to find me.”

Then he turned and left, the metal echo of his boots fading into silence.

Vi sat down heavily on the old convertible couch she’d dragged in weeks ago. She used it when she worked late, too tired to drive home.

She dropped her head into her hands. And tried to think.

******

October 2014

Smoke curled from Mylo’s lips in perfect white rings, dissolving before they could touch the ceiling. He was sprawled across his couch, head resting on the armrest. Vi sat opposite him, elbows on her knees, watching.

“Stop torturing yourself, dude. It’s not like you can do anything about it right now anyway,” he said, exhaling slowly.

“I know that. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. What is he doing?” Her voice was low, almost bitter. She rubbed her eyes. “I have these memories, clear as day, of what he made Powder do when we lived with Vander. She was like... under a spell. And he used that. Fuck, she was just a kid.”

It made her sick. Sicker still to feel so helpless now.

“Then you also remember Vander beating the shit out of him so bad he lost an eye, right?” Mylo handed her the joint.

“Yeah. Vander’s not here anymore though,” she muttered, voice hollow. The wound still hadn’t closed, not really.

“But people loved him, Vi. The ones who are left, the ones who still believe in what he stood for, they’ll protect his family.”

“There aren’t many of them left, man. You know that. Silco scared the shit out of most of them.”

“I know. But you did everything you could.”

He sat up a little, watching her carefully. Then, of course, he grinned like an idiot.

“Now. Where’s that stupidly hot, posh girlfriend of yours, huh? Maybe she could keep your mind off all this…”

Vi rolled her eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend, dickhead. She never was.” She looked down. “I haven’t seen her in a while, actually.”

It hurt like hell. They hadn’t been apart this long since last summer, when Caitlyn had left for England. This time, it was different. She said she was swamped. That she was busy. But the last text had been a quiet, crushing I miss you.

Vi kept rereading it. Over and over. She didn’t have much else. Except that Polaroid. The one she’d taken last Christmas — Caitlyn, caught in mid-laughter, head turned toward her like she was the only thing in the room. Vi carried it everywhere. Looked at it when no one was around. Studied it like it was holy.

Pathetic.

“Okay… Do you wanna watch Snatch again?” Mylo offered.

“I never don’t wanna watch Snatch, bro,” Vi grinned.

They were reaching the best part. Brick Top’s line, one they knew by heart.

“Do you know what 'nemesis' means?”

“A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me.”

They said it together, in unison, grinning. It didn’t matter how many times they’d watched it… it hit every time.

Then Vi’s phone rang.

She glanced down.

Caitlyn.

She answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Vi—” Something was wrong. Caitlyn’s voice was sharp with panic. Broken. Breathless.

“Cait? What’s wrong?”

“It’s… It’s my father, he…” She couldn’t finish. Her words collapsed into sobs.

Vi’s body went cold. She was already on her feet.

“Where are you?”

“M-My parents’…” Caitlyn’s voice cracked.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“O-Okay…” She sobbed again.

And Vi was already gone.

******

We’re all equals in the face of death.

Death doesn’t care about your age, your bank account, or the purity of your soul. It strikes randomly, like a monster no one can outrun, leaving behind only silence and wreckage. The ones who stay behind are left crumbling, eviscerated, raging at the injustice of it. But death doesn’t care about that either.

Vi knew that too well. She had felt it when she was a little girl. And again, as a teenager. She had always wished her love would never have to. But she was powerless in this realm. Impotent. Like every other human being on this goddamn planet.

She was driving fast, heading straight toward Caitlyn. Nothing could’ve stopped her. Caitlyn needed her. It was as obvious, as tactile, as the steering wheel beneath her palms or the asphalt rushing beneath the wheels.

She’d stopped by her place to grab a few things, called her shitty boss to say she wouldn’t be coming in. She might get fired. She didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving Caitlyn’s side. Not for all the gold in the world.

She’d probably have to sleep in her car for a while. There was no way Cassandra would welcome her into that perfect glass house. She’d ask Caitlyn to cover for her when she needed to shower or eat.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Just a couple months ago, the were laughing in the sun, happy. And she knew how this went. Once life started spiraling, it all collapsed like dominoes. They had been so happy just a month ago. That’s how it always worked. Everything comes with a price. You always end up paying. Whether you choose to or not.

But some things… some things you never get to control. Not when it comes to death. To losing a loved one.

She parked Benzo’s car in front of the massive iron gate and dialed Caitlyn’s number. The woman answered, but didn’t say a word.

“I’m here,” Vi breathed.

A soft click. The line went dead.

Seconds later, the gates opened.

Vi walked the gravel path slowly. The house loomed ahead like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. But she only had eyes for the girl who came running down the steps.

Caitlyn collapsed into her arms, and Vi caught her.

Her knees gave out. Vi held her tighter, and they sank to the ground together. Caitlyn sobbed into her chest. Vi could feel the heat of her tears soaking through her shirt. She cradled her gently, brushing her fingers through her hair, whispering into the shell of her ear.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She knew there was nothing she could say to take the pain away. If she could’ve ripped it out of Caitlyn and carried it herself, she would’ve done it in a heartbeat. But that’s not how this worked. She would be there. That was all she could offer. Time would do the rest. Slow, brutal, but necessary.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually, Caitlyn stood up, sniffing softly. She met Vi’s gaze, her own eyes hollowed out by grief, and took her hand. She led her inside.

The house (palace, really) was silent. Too big. Too cold. Too rich. Vi didn’t care. All she saw was Caitlyn.

They reached the living room.

Cassandra Kiramman stood in the center, her face pale. A ghost wearing poise like a suit of armor. She was surrounded by people speaking in low, rehearsed voices. Jayce was among them, looking drained and small.

Cassandra raised her head when they entered. Vi immediately stepped back.

“Caitlyn?” Her voice was flat, but firm. “Who’s your friend, dear?”

“Her name is Vi.” Caitlyn’s voice didn’t sound like hers. It was cracked and distant, like something barely held together.

“Hello, Vi. I’ve never heard about you before… Thank you for coming to support Caitlyn.”

Her tone was polite. But her eyes were sharp. Distrustful. Measuring.

“My condolences, Mrs. Kiramman,” Vi said, amazed by how calm she sounded. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”

“So do I,” Cassandra replied stiffly.

Caitlyn didn’t say another word. She simply led Vi away, up the endless stairs, down a hallway too long, into a room too perfect. The house was endless, a maze of wealth and silence. Vi would have gotten lost if not for Caitlyn’s hand, clutching hers like a tether.

Vi barely registered the space around her. Her focus was on Caitlyn’s fingers still gripping the fabric of her shirt. They entered her bedroom. It was vast, luminous, silent. A queen-sized bed. Clean lines and soft colors. The kind of room meant for royalty.

Caitlyn lay down immediately, pulling Vi with her.

Her head pressed into Vi’s chest, her fists still clutching her shirt like she was trying to hold onto something real.

Vi wrapped her arms around her, slow, reverent. Her fingers drew circles on Caitlyn’s back. She kissed the top of her head. Then again. And again. Until her breathing slowed. Until she fell asleep in her arms.

—

About two hours later, strands of dark blue hair tickled Vi’s chin. Caitlyn shifted. She looked around, dazed, like she was trying to remember where she was. And why.

Then her eyes landed on Vi. And something in her face cracked.

“Vi…” she whispered, then shut her eyes tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Vi murmured, voice hoarse.

“I panicked. I just… I wanted you here. I didn’t even think about your work, your obligations…”

“I only have one obligation, Cait. I’m not going anywhere.”

Caitlyn stared at the ceiling. Her voice dropped into something almost hollow.

“Did you know that 33,782 people died in car accidents in this country in 2012?”

Vi blinked. “No. I didn’t.”

“My father is a statistic now.”

“He’ll always be more than that.”

Silence.

Then: “How did you do it?” Her voice was raw. Honest. She looked at Vi like she really wanted to understand.

Vi exhaled slowly. The truth wasn’t easy.

“I know it might sound stupid, but… I just did. I think we always underestimate our ability to cope. We surprise ourselves, sometimes… with how strong we really are.

Time… it doesn’t fix it. But it softens things. Eventually, the pain feels less sharp. More… bearable. You start cherishing life like a tribute. For them. Because they can’t anymore.

I’m sorry, Cait… but it never really stops hurting. We just learn to live with it. We have to. Life goes on.”

“You’re so strong…” Caitlyn whispered.

“So are you. And you’re not alone.” Vi tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

“The funeral is on Saturday. Will you be there?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“If I’m honest… I think I need you to be.”

Vi nodded. “Then I will. As long as you need me.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes dropped to the mattress.

“Vi, I just… I wanted… to talk about what happened between us. You know, I’m uh…”

“Hey. Don’t think about that now.” Vi cut her off gently. “We’re okay. You don’t have to explain anything. I’m your friend. You need your friend. I’ll never ask anything from you.”

She gently cupped her chin, made her look at her.

“I mean it.”

“You’re so…” Caitlyn exhaled.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Come back when you find your words, honey. Okay?”

She was rewarded with the faintest, precious smile.

“It’s getting late. You should rest. I should go.”

“You’re leaving?” Her voice cracked again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be outside. By the gate. If you need anything, just call. I’ll be here.”

“Stay.” It wasn’t a question.

“But… your mother, she—”

“I don’t care. Please. Stay.”

Vi hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“…Alright. I’ll go grab my stuff.”

“I’ll come with you.”

—

Later that night, they lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

“Will you need a suit?” Caitlyn asked suddenly.

“Well… I don’t have one, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“The tailor’s coming tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let him know.”

“Okay… But Cait, you know I can’t really afford—”

“Please, Vi. Don’t worry about it.”

Caitlyn turned her back to her. Then, without a word, reached behind and took Vi’s hand. Guided it across her waist. Pressed it to her stomach. Anchored her there.

Vi felt the heat of her body along her spine.

She stayed still for a long moment. Having her body so close made Vi’s head spin.

She leaned in without a word, drawn by something soft and rare. Her fingers brushed a loose strand of hair, and almost without thinking, she brought her face close and silently breathed her in.

The scent rose gently; warm honey touched by sunlight, threaded with wildflowers and the faintest trace of vanilla. It wasn’t loud or perfumed, but alive, tender, like a memory half-remembered or a dream just out of reach. In that fragrance was a quiet promise; of comfort, of closeness, of something unspoken. She closed her eyes for a moment, suspended in that golden breath, as if the whole world had narrowed to this: the delicate scent of her hair, light as a sigh, soft as a secret.

The scent pulled at her, slow and deep, unraveling the carefully tied knots of her restraint.

In her mind, she let go.

She imagined her lips at the hollow of her neck, the taste of her skin. She imagined her hand sliding across that narrow space between them, fingers brushing ribs, hips, the quiet intake of breath that would follow. She imagined the way she might turn toward her, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted... and the way desire would finally be allowed to bloom, fierce and slow, like fire licking its way through silence.

But reality held its breath.

She stayed where she was, motionless, aching; caught between the role of comforter and the ache of wanting too much. She could not touch. Not like that. She could not let her fingers say what her voice never dared. The closeness was torture wrapped in tenderness, the unbearable sweetness of having just enough to hurt.

So she buried the heat behind her eyes and stayed in the moment she was allowed; breathing in the scent of her, golden and soft, like a brief, impossible shimmer of a world where she could have more.

******

November 2014

Two days later, Vi sat alone in Caitlyn’s bedroom, staring at the sleek black suit hanging from its protective cover. The funeral was tomorrow. And she dreaded it.

She wasn’t afraid of grief. But watching it twist Caitlyn’s sharp, perfect features into something broken, that would be unbearable. Still, she would be there. Through thick and thin. No matter what. No matter how much it hurt. That’s what loyalty meant.

Her stomach growled. She wondered if Caitlyn was in the kitchen… or if it was safe to go down on her own. She decided to try.

She crept quietly down the endless stairs, but it wasn’t long before she got lost in the maze of polished hallways. A faint light glowed beneath a half-open door. She slowed when she heard voices.

Caitlyn’s voice.

“Please, Mother, don’t start…” She sounded tired. So tired.

“I’ve made some inquiries about this woman, Caitlyn.” Cassandra’s voice was clipped, brittle. “Someone like her can’t fit in our world. You know that.”

Vi froze. She should leave. She should walk away. Pretend she never heard. But her feet stayed glued to the floor.

“You don’t even know her!” Caitlyn shot back, defensive.

“I don’t need to,” Cassandra replied coldly. “She grew up in the South Side. She looks like a punk. She has no money, no education, no future. Do you understand what people would think if they knew my daughter had fallen for a lowlife?”

Fallen?
What the fuck did that mean?

“She’s my closest friend,” Caitlyn snapped. “Violet is kind, and gentle, and strong, and reliable. I need her, Mother. And I honestly couldn’t care less about what people think. I just lost my father. And I—
I need her with me right now.”

Her voice broke. She was crying.

There was a pause. Then Cassandra’s voice, colder than ever: “Then it better be temporary, dear.”

Silence.

Then, in a voice that could’ve frozen stone:

“Can I go now?”

Vi stepped back. Fast. Quiet. She didn’t want Caitlyn to see her. Not like this.

She ended up in another hallway. She didn’t know where she was anymore.

Temporary.

Fine. That was fine.

She would stay as long as Caitlyn needed her. And when the time came… she’d walk away.

Simple.

She’d always known this wasn’t forever. She wasn’t built for forever. But she would give Caitlyn everything she had. Right up until the moment she couldn’t anymore.

She turned back toward the bedroom. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

******

The clouded sky was bright. All white, with light grey blotches scattered like bruises. Vi stood at the back of the procession, wrapped in her perfectly tailored three-piece suit, black from head to toe. She said nothing. Just watched.

There was a quiet buzz around her, low conversations and subdued movements. Funerals always had this particular atmosphere, something glassy and heavy that muffled the air. You could see the humble compassion in people’s eyes as they glanced toward the black coffin at the end of the aisle. Tears fell quietly. Whispers filled the air. No laughter, no loud voices. The heavy loss covered everything, like a giant glass dome stretched over their heads.

Caitlyn and her mother stood beside the coffin. Rigid, composed, statues carved from grief. They wore the same mask. No tears. No breakdowns. Just that unshakeable Kiramman composure, honed to perfection.

Once the guests had taken their seats, Caitlyn made her way to Vi and offered her arm, a silent invitation toward the front row.

Cassandra was there instantly, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Front rows are reserved for close family, dear,” she said. Then, without waiting for an answer, she steered Caitlyn away.

Caitlyn turned her head, just enough to throw Vi a brief, apologetic look.

Vi responded with a tight smile, hoping it was enough to reassure her.

She didn’t sit down. She found a quiet spot in the back and remained standing, just close enough to keep Caitlyn in sight.

She had noticed the way people were looking at her. Not with open hostility, but with that quiet, misdirected curiosity, the kind that masked something colder. Disdain.

What was she doing here, at the funeral of someone as important as Tobias Kiramman? Surely there’d been a mistake. She didn’t look like family. And she didn’t look like staff either. They wouldn’t even hire someone like her.

But Vi didn’t care. Her eyes never left Caitlyn. Not once. She barely heard the speeches. The ritual. The prayers. All she saw was Caitlyn. That unbearable stillness in her posture, the grief hiding under polished grace.

Vi had never seen her like this.

Their worlds had always been separate. Caitlyn never stepped into the South Side except for one time a year at The Last Drop, and Vi had never crossed the threshold of Caitlyn’s family life.

But now, here they were. And Vi saw it all. The daughter. The heir. And the weight she carried on her shoulders.

She still found her beautiful. Unbelievably so. But what mattered more was knowing she was one of the very few who had seen past all that. Who had touched something raw and unvarnished inside her.

It was a long, painful afternoon.

Vi felt a rush of relief when people finally started heading back to the mansion for drinks and a buffet.

She waited until the house had swallowed them all. Then, quietly, she stepped away from the garden and lit a cigarette. It was the first one in months. She wasn’t proud. But her nerves demanded it.

She joined the crowd in the grand parlor. And, as she had all day, she stayed in the background. There — but not quite.

She spotted Caitlyn on a large couch, speaking softly with an older woman. Vi noticed the way her eyes kept drifting toward Cassandra. The crease of worry in her forehead was unmistakable. Cassandra hadn’t eaten all day. It was obvious; her paleness, the tremor in her hand. And it was killing Caitlyn.

She drifted to the buffet, unsure what to grab. There was too much food, too many options. She picked at random, stacking a plate with a strange mix of things.

Then she slipped quietly into the cavernous kitchen. The room was filled with staff in crisp white shirts. She placed the plate down on the counter and gently tapped a man on the shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

He turned, towering over her, clearly unimpressed.

“Could you ask Mrs. Kiramman to come in the kitchen, please?” she asked, voice low.

“What for?”

Vi blinked. Shit. She wished she’d thought this through.

“There’s… been an issue. With the food.”

He frowned. “What kind of issue?”

“Just… Just ask her to come. Please,” she added, firmer.

After a beat, he muttered something to a waiter, who disappeared. Vi’s pulse was loud in her ears. She didn’t know what she was doing. She just knew why.

Then Cassandra entered the kitchen, tall, composed, sharp as ever. She looked around, confused.

“Mrs. Kiramman?” Vi stepped forward.

Cassandra’s eyes landed on her, wide with surprise.

“Ms. Lane?” Her voice was clipped with disbelief.

She walked toward her slowly, measured. “What is this about?”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

What a horrible time to lose her words. She was intimidated by the woman. And she hated that.
She had to get it together.

“What is the matter?” Cassandra asked, her tone dry.

“I know you’re going through a lot. I can’t begin to imagine how hard this must be. But… I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Cassandra didn’t respond. She just crossed her arms, waiting; curious, but wary.

“I made you a plate.” Vi nodded toward the food she’d arranged. “Would you… take it with you? Maybe grab a few bites, here and there. And make sure Caitlyn sees you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. Or how to grieve. You don’t have to eat the whole thing. But… if she saw you take a few bites, it might help. Just a little. She’s worried about you. It’s eating her alive.” No pun intended.

She hesitated, searching for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t offend.

“Sometimes… the little things can mean a lot. I’m sure you know that. Probably better than I do.”

She paused. Then added, soft but firm:

“So please, Mrs. Kiramman. Just take the plate.”

Cassandra didn’t move. She just stared with those sharp eyes that looked so much like Caitlyn’s. Right now, Vi couldn’t read them at all.

She forced herself to stay still. To look like she wasn’t breaking inside.

Then Cassandra spoke. Softer. But not warmer.

“What are your intentions, Ms. Lane?”

Vi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your feelings for my daughter.”

No point pretending. Cassandra wouldn’t tell a soul anyway.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Cassandra flinched. Barely. But it was there.

Vi held her gaze.

“I’m her friend. She needs her friend. She’s not just anybody, I get that. I always knew that. I’ll never hold her back. I’ll never stand in the way of who she’s meant to become.”

Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, letting her truth spill through the cracks. She held her gaze. Quiet. Steady. Not pleading. Just… true.

Then she slid the plate a little closer. And turned to go.

Outside, she exhaled hard.

She hadn’t planned this. Didn’t know what she expected. She hoped Cassandra understood that she would never be with Caitlyn.

She’d be there for her. As long as she was needed. She’d never try anything. She didn’t deserve to. None of this was supposed to happen. It had been an anomaly. A glitch in the Matrix that had somehow led her here.

She owed it to herself to make the most of it. But she owed it to Caitlyn to never ask for more. To let her go. To let her end up with someone made for her. She couldn’t stay and watch from the sidelines. She wasn’t built for that. It would destroy her.

When the time came, she’d leave.

Quietly. Without making it harder than it already was. Without a scene.

When she returned to the parlor, Caitlyn was on the couch. Sitting beside Cassandra.

They were sharing the plate Vi had made. Slow bites. No words. Just a glance exchanged between them. One that said enough.

Vi stepped back into the shadows.

Small things.

******

It was just after midnight. For the first time in almost three years, Caitlyn wasn’t there to celebrate the New Year with her.

Vi couldn’t help but see it as a bad omen.

They hadn’t gone to the bar. Sevika had been playing rough lately, and the streets were no longer safe. Silco still hadn’t returned from wherever the fuck he went. So they stayed in, Powder, Ekko, Mylo, Benzo, and her. They had a few drinks. A lazy countdown. Hollow cheers. No spark. No real joy. Then went to bed, one by one. The vibe wasn’t there this year. And Vi missed Caitlyn. But she understood. She had stayed with her mother for the holidays. Of course she had.

Vi lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, as she’d done a thousand times before.

It was past 1am when her phone buzzed.

“Hey, Cait,” she answered instantly.

“Vi…” There was a tremble in her voice, like relief trying not to crack.

“Did you think I’d be asleep?” Vi teased gently.

“No. More like… still out at the bar.”

“No bar tonight. We had a quiet evening at home.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised.

“We didn’t feel like it.”

“Why not?”

Vi hesitated. Caitlyn’s insistence was as gentle as ever. But it left no room to lie.

“There’s been a bit of a ruckus around here. We’re laying low.”

“Vi… are you safe?”

Shit.

“I…”

She didn’t know how to put it. Maybe she wasn’t safe. She was trying to be.

“Tell me.”

Vi sighed, low and reluctant.

“I don’t wanna lie to you. I don’t know, Cait. I’m doing everything I can to stay safe. To keep Powder safe.”

“From what?”

“Please…” Her voice dropped. “Let’s not do this now. It’s a long story. I’d rather hear about you. How was your evening?”

A pause.

“Promise me you’ll explain.”

She closed her eyes. She hated promising what she might not be able to keep. But this talk had to happen eventually.

“I promise.”

Caitlyn exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath. “It was quiet here too. The chef made dinner, we had champagne… and that was it.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m… alright, I guess. The first Christmas without my father was…” A breath. “…the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. I dream of him, almost every night. I didn’t know I had so many tears in me. All I think about is turning back time, trying to stop it. But I can’t. And it’s been torturing me.”

“I get it,” Vi said quietly. “It’s hard to accept that there’s nothing you can do. I’m sorry you’re going through this. You know you can call me anytime, right?”

“I know. Thank you.”

Vi could hear it. The tears, this time quiet and raw. It tore her up.

“How’s your mom?”

“Tough. Proud. Lonely. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing more you need to do, Cait. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

“Mmh,” she murmured, unconvinced.

“I wish I could be here for you,” Vi whispered.

“You are. I missed you tonight.”

Vi’s heart skipped, like it always did when Caitlyn said things like that. Not just the words but the way she said them. Throaty. Honest.

“Me too.”

Silence. Not empty. Full of what neither dared to say.

“I’m going home in two days,” Caitlyn said softly. “When will I see you?”

“Next week, if you’ve got time. I could come over. Cook something.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll text you. Try to get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Will you… stay with me for a while?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A breath, half-relieved.

“Thank you.”

“Cait?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry if this is… inappropriate, but… Happy New Year.”

“It’s not the happiest,” she said gently, “but… Happy New Year, Vi.”

They stayed like that. Still, breathing, phones pressed to their ears. Vi listened to Caitlyn’s slow inhales, the soft rise and fall, like a secret lullaby only she could hear.

She wouldn’t hang up. She’d wait for the call to fade on its own. She closed her eyes.

And let herself return to a memory. Caitlyn’s back warm against her. Her delicate hand in hers. The scent of her hair, sun-drenched silk and something sweet.

And the hallway.

That filthy, insignificant hallway that changed everything. One second. One impossible shift in her universe.

It had unlocked something inside her. A door she didn’t know existed, a tunnel she never dared to explore.

What she found there wasn’t dark. It was an underground sky. A hidden cathedral of stars. A cave made of fireflies and dreams and golden light, where every inch of her pulsed with something alive. She hadn’t seen the end of it yet. She wasn’t sure she ever would. But somewhere in that cavern, her soul had made a home. An buried paradise over which she reigned like a sovereign of longing.

And Caitlyn had the key.

******

The meat was simmering in the pan, filling the apartment with a warm, peppery scent. Vi stirred gently, then held out a spoonful of sauce to Caitlyn’s mouth.

“So?”

“It’s amazing!” Caitlyn grinned, radiant. Vi had missed that smile more than she could say.

“Lacks salt, don’t you think?” Vi teased, eyes twinkling.

“I dare you.” Caitlyn narrowed her eyes in mock-threat.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I promise you, I will not eat.”

“Alright,” Vi shrugged, grinning. “More for me, then.”

Caitlyn shoved her shoulder lightly, and they both laughed. Soon, they sat across from each other at the table, plates warm between them.

“So…” Caitlyn began, her tone shifting. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Vi’s fingers froze on her fork. She knew it was coming. Still, she tried to buy herself a few seconds.

“What do you mean?” she asked, a little too innocently.

“You can’t possibly expect me to say nothing after you tell me you might be in danger.” Her voice had that sharp, precise edge Vi knew too well.

“I know. I didn’t want to worry you but… I’ve lied before, and that didn’t work out so well either. So yeah. You’ve cornered me.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Vi said quickly. “It’s not about trust.”

“Then please, Violet.” Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed locked on hers. “I need to know. I care about you.”

Those words, soft, unguarded; undid something inside her. How could she resist that gaze?

She exhaled slowly.

“When we lived with Vander, there was a man. Silco. He was like a brother to him, once. He was around all the time. Friendly. Soft-spoken. He’d bring sweets, books, little metal puzzles for Powder to solve. She adored him. Called him Uncle Silco. He made her laugh. She'd spend week-ends and holidays with him.”

Vi’s jaw clenched.

“But there was something off. Always. I didn’t like the way he watched her when she wasn't looking. The way he talked about her like she was… his project. Not a kid.”

She ran a hand through her hair.

“Then she started changing. Slowly. At first, she just got quiet. Didn’t draw as much. Would flinch at loud noises. Then the nightmares came. And the silence. She wouldn’t even let me hug her sometimes. She just said she was tired.”

Caitlyn didn’t speak. Her eyes never left Vi’s.

“Vander asked questions, but Silco had answers. She was shy. She was sensitive. He said he was helping her grow stronger.”

A long pause.

“I didn’t see it until it was too late. What he was doing. What he was training her to become.”

Vi’s voice cracked, but she forced herself to go on.

“He’d take her on his rounds. Made her sit through meetings with men who ran guns and pushed drugs. Made her listen when people screamed. Taught her how to lie, how to move quietly, how to hit someone where it hurts. Told her it was a game. That she was better than the other kids. Special. Chosen. His little soldier. She saw things, Cait. Things a kid should never see. Violence. Fear. Blood. And she kept it all inside.”

She looked away for a second.

“He made her believe she was safe with him. That I wouldn’t understand. That Vander was too soft to raise someone like her. That I’d be angry if I knew. And… he rewarded her. When she did what he asked. He told her she was perfect.”

Her knuckles were white now, fists clenched around nothing.

“One night, after a nightmare worse than the others, I don't know why, she told me everything. What she saw. What she did. How he’d whisper things to her. How she had to keep his secrets. How she owed him.”

Her voice dropped, barely audible.

“She was nine.”

Caitlyn looked stricken, her lips parted but no sound coming out.

“I told Vander. They fought. It got violent. Vander almost killed him. Silco lost an eye.”

Vi leaned back in her chair, breathing slowly.

“He’s still here. Moving in the shadows. And I don’t know what he’s planning, but I know what he wants. He still thinks she’s his. And he’s the kind of man who waits. Who watches. Who builds his traps piece by piece until you don’t even see you’re caught. He wants her to walk back to him. By her own will.”

She met Caitlyn’s eyes again.

“That’s what terrifies me the most.”

Caitlyn’s expression turned to stone. Her horror was silent, but written all over her face.

“He’s back now, isn’t he?” she whispered.

“It’s… complicated.” Vi rubbed her hands over her face. “After Vander’s death, I saw him one last time. Before he fled, he told me something I’ll never forget. He said, 'You think she’s yours. But she already chose me. You’re just in the way.' And then he disappeared.”

She leaned back in her chair.

“He owns the South Side. Nothing moves there without him. Most of the gangs are in his pocket. But a few of us, the ones who still honor Vander, we’re keeping watch. Silco wants Powder back. Not by force. He wants her to choose him. He’s waiting. Playing the long game. We don’t know how. But he’s moving.”

The silence that followed was cold and cavernous.

“Where is he now?” Caitlyn asked, pale.

“Out of town. Has been for a while. His second, Sevika, is stirring things up. Taking territory. Making noise.”

Caitlyn stared down at her plate.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got people. We’re watching him. Protecting Powder. And if he makes a move…” Vi’s voice faltered. “We’re ready.”

Caitlyn raised her eyes again, sharp, glistening.

“Do you have a plan to protect yourself?”

Vi forced a smile. “I’ll figure it out. Hide, maybe. Lay low.”

“I am not satisfied with that answer.”

Vi flinched. The pain, the anger, all of it lived in Caitlyn’s voice.

“Cait, please. I’m trying. You’ve got enough to carry. I just wanted to be honest with you, not scare you.”

“Promise me,” she said quietly, “you’ll come to me if you need anything.”

Vi looked at her. The woman she loved, even if she’d never said it. The woman who kept asking for a promise Vi wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep, but would die trying.

“I promise.”

Caitlyn nodded. The air was heavy again.

Vi cleared her throat.

“Now,” she smiled, “can we please enjoy this dinner? Talk about something light? Like that little crush from your class?”

“What crush?”

“You know, the one who’s jealous of you.”

“Oh wow. I completely forgot about her.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m not paying attention anymore.”

“So… flame’s out, huh?” Vi mock-sighed.

“Shut up,” Caitlyn said with a small smile.

She’d take what she can get.

******

March 2015

Vi was beaming. She hadn’t had a day like this in a long time, probably not since last summer. Caitlyn was slowly getting better. She still rarely left Vi’s side, still carried her sadness like a weight slung over her shoulder, etched into the softness of her gaze. But Vi was working hard to keep her distracted, to draw out her laughter, and it was working. A little more each week.

And today, she had good news. The kind of news that made her want to run. She stood at Caitlyn’s front door, grinning like an idiot, a bottle of actual champagne in one hand.

Caitlyn clearly wasn’t expecting her. Her surprise showed the moment the door opened and Vi’s grin only widened as she held the bottle up in front of her like a trophy.

“I just made forty grand!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Caitlyn’s lips curled into a smile Vi hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I sold the Mustang!”

“Vi, that’s… that’s amazing! Congratulations!” She threw her arms around her and hugged her so tightly Vi almost lost her breath.

“Thank you! I had to tell you. I wanted to celebrate with you before I go home and tell the others.”

“Of course. Come in!”

They made their way to the kitchen. Vi popped the bottle open while Caitlyn fetched two glasses.
When the champagne had settled, Vi raised her glass in the air.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Caitlyn. Thank you. For everything. You’ve been there every step of the way. You’re my own personal angel.”

“You deserve everything that’s coming to you, Violet. I’m so proud of you. Of how far you’ve come.”
Her smile was indescribable.

“Thank you,” Vi breathed. She laughed suddenly. “Fuck, I’ve never had this much money in my life!”

“You better get used to it,” Caitlyn replied with a sparkle in her voice.

“You’re used to it. Maybe you could help me spend it?” Vi teased.

“Come back to me when you’ve got more than forty grand, and we’ll talk.” Caitlyn grinned, smug as ever.

“How much are we talking?”

“Try an almost endless amount.”

“Guess I’ll just have to manage on my own, then.”

Caitlyn’s laugh echoed through her body like music. Rich, radiant, and more healing than anything Vi had heard in months.

******

April 2015

Another hard day at work was finally coming to an end. Vi got changed, grabbed her things, and stepped outside for the weekend. She checked her phone…and her blood ran cold. Her stomach dropped. Her breath hitched.

Ten missed calls. One message. One single letter. “S.” Benzo’s code. Short. Immediate. Absolute.

She stared at it like it was about to catch fire in her hand. Then her pulse skyrocketed.

Silco.

He was back. And something was happening. Something bad.

Her fingers moved without thinking, unlocking her phone to check if Powder had messaged her too. Relief and terror collided when she saw it. The same letter. She was alive. She was safe. For now. Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe through the storm swelling inside her. Not now. Not when things were finally starting to feel steady. What the fuck was he planning? Where was he?
Was Powder being watched?

She rushed to her car, hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel. Her jaw clenched.

You can’t go home. It’s not safe.

Benzo would already be gone; his place cleared, his trail wiped clean. He always moved fast when things got serious. And the garage?

Hardly anyone knew about it.

She’d made sure of that. It was her sanctuary, her fallback. Her only real option now. The road stretched ahead, but everything blurred at the edges. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath shallow. Every red light felt like a death sentence. Every shadow on the sidewalk looked like a trap. Her thoughts raced. If he had eyes on her, if she was being followed, this was already a mistake. But if she hesitated, she’d lose her chance to disappear. She drove fast, cutting corners, watching the mirrors.

She parked near the warehouse and scanned the surroundings. Her knuckles whitened around the key. The lot was quiet. Still. Too still. Her instincts screamed. But she pushed forward anyway.

When she reached the door and found the lock already undone, a jagged shard of dread sliced through her. Her blood turned to ice.

She didn’t even have time to run. Two sets of hands grabbed her. Rough, merciless. And everything blurred. She struggled, cursed, kicked. But she was caught. And she knew it

The warehouse was dark. The kind of darkness that eats sound. Her eyes darted wildly, but there was nothing to see.

Then a click. A single switch. Light bloomed.

A large black leather chair sat in the middle of the room, its back facing her.

It turned. Slowly. Deliberately. She didn’t have to see him to know. But she saw him anyway.

Silco.

He stood like a man carved from shadow. Tall, lean, a specter draped in quiet malice. His features were sharp with a kind of inhuman precision: high cheekbones, hollow cheeks, a jaw that could slice glass. But it was his left eye that held her, the red, clouded one, veined and pulsing like it held something alive inside. Rage, maybe. Madness. Power.

His skin was pale, sickly even, stretched thin over old bones and long nights. Clad in a tailored suit of dark hues, with high collar and sharp lapel. All control, all elegance. A snake in formalwear.

“Oh, that fear…” he drawled, voice like silk over broken glass. “The chair was a nice touch, don’t you think? I’ve always believed in presentation. An entrance should leave an impression.”

“You watch too many movies.” Vi spat, rage flaring through the fear.

“There’s a reason for theatrics, Violet. Look at you. Eyes wide. A bead of sweat just above your brow.” He smiled. “Worth every second.”

“What do you want?” she hissed, still struggling in the grip of the goons.

“That’s a stupid question. You know exactly what I want.”

“Too bad you’ll never get it.”

His smile widened, slow, predatory. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”

He rose, walked toward her like he had all the time in the world. “But don’t worry. I won’t kill you.”

His tone softened, mockingly gentle. “I have plans for you. You’ll get a special treatment. You’re not just anyone, right? Violet Lane.”

A hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head to the side. A sudden, burning sting pierced the crook of her neck. A needle. Pain. Then darkness.

She fell into the void.

Chapter Text

SYML

“I got a fear
Oh, in my blood
She was carried up into the clouds, high above

if you bled, I'll bleed the same
if you're scared, I'm on my way

Did you run away? Did you run away?
I don't need to know
If you ran away, if you ran away
Come back home
Just come home”

April 2015

Caitlyn was jittery. Her leg bounced relentlessly as she sat on her couch, the same motion on loop like a scratched record. She hadn’t heard a word from Vi in days. No text. No call. Just pure, disorienting silence that grew heavier by the hour. When she let herself truly think about it, it felt like a vice was tightening around her ribs. Panic, quiet but unrelenting, gnawed at her resolve.

In a last desperate attempt, she called again.

“This is Vi. You know the drill.”

Those six words had become unbearable. It was all she had, and it was driving her slowly insane. She felt powerless; an unfamiliar, intolerable state. She didn’t even know where Vi lived. She didn’t know how to reach Powder. The girl hadn’t shown up to class all week. Ekko either.

Something had happened. She could feel it like a blade pressed to her spine. A tight fist around her throat. Vi never left her in the dark like this. Not for this long. Not without a reason. And Caitlyn refused to consider the worst, but the thought clawed at the edge of her mind regardless.

There had to be a way. Somewhere to start. The Last Drop. Vi had once mentioned an old family friend owned the bar. That was all she had.

She tried once more.

“This is Vi. You know the drill.”

Her voice broke.

“Vi, this is Caitlyn. I am begging you, please answer. Please call me back. I need... I need to hear your voice, okay? I’m worried sick over here. I hope you’re alright, I couldn’t... Please. Bye.”

She grabbed her coat, keys, and purse and bolted out the door, her heart thudding too fast, too loud. She wasn’t usually the reckless one. But her worry had turned to urgency, fierce and blinding.

She drove faster than usual, her foot heavy on the gas pedal, guided not by logic but by pure fear. She barely remembered the turns, the streetlights, the honks from other drivers. When she parked in front of The Last Drop, she didn’t bother to breathe. She slammed the car door and pushed her way in.

It was quiet. Dimly lit. Almost empty apart from the handful of patrons lingering in the gloom.

Her heels clicked against the worn wooden floor as she crossed the room in a straight line to the bar. A woman with brownish dreadlocks and a sour expression was polishing a glass with a rag that looked like it had seen better days.

“Hello, do you know Violet Lane?” she asked, not even pretending to ease into the question.

The woman raised a brow. “Yeah. Why?”

“Would you happen to know where she is?”

“I’m not her mum. I don’t know where the fuck she is.”

Caitlyn bit back her irritation. She didn’t have the time for games. She definitely didn’t like her.

“Can I speak with your manager, please?”

“He’s not here.”

“Then call him.”

“I don’t—”

“Look,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice still polite but sharp as a whip. “I know you don’t know me, and clearly you don’t want to help, but this is an emergency. So call your manager and tell him to meet me here. Immediately. Please”

The woman stared her down, but Caitlyn didn’t waver. Eventually, with a muttered curse, she pulled her phone out.

“Huck? Yeah, it’s Gert. Some posh chick’s here asking about Vi. I don’t know, she didn’t say who she is.  Says it’s urgent. Yeah. Fine. Alright.” She hung up with a confused frown.

“Well?” Caitlyn demanded.

“He said, and I quote, shut the fuck up and wait here. He’ll be here in ten.”

Caitlyn nodded tightly. “Thank you.”

“Want something while you wait?”

“Rum and coke, please.” She didn’t drink often and certainly not during the day. But today, her nerves needed something stronger than composure.

Ten minutes passed like molasses, until a figure slipped through the door.

Huck wasn’t what she expected.

He was small, frail even. His face sharp, with high cheekbones and a pale complexion that made him look half-sick. His hair was dark, messy, falling in limp strands over his glasses. He moved with quick, fidgety energy, his eyes constantly scanning the room.

“Are you Huck?” Caitlyn stood as he approached.

“Follow me,” he said without greeting, voice quiet and clipped.

She followed him through a back hallway, past crates and old beer barrels, to a narrow door. He unlocked it, pushed it open, and ushered her inside. The room was cramped and cluttered; a desk, two chairs, papers stacked in messy piles.

He shut the door behind them. Locked it.

He sat behind a scratched desk, motioning for her to sit on the rickety chair opposite him

“Who are you?” he asked, adjusting his glasses with one twitchy finger.

“My name is Caitlyn Kiramman. I’m a friend of Vi’s.”

His expression didn’t change. “Look, first of all, never ask questions like that out loud. Especially not here. You’re lucky Gert didn’t throw you out.”

“I understand. I just…I’m worried. I haven’t heard from her in days. Please, if you know anything…”

“I don’t. No one does. She’s gone off the grid. That’s all I know.” His voice was strained, honest.

“There must be someone who knows. Or something I can do. With all due respect, I’m not going to stop, Mr Huck. Not until I find her.” Her voice didn’t waver.

He let out a long sigh, eyes scanning the desk like it might offer answers. Eventually, he nodded, resigned.

“Come back tonight. Eleven o’clock. Back door. I’ll let you in. Someone’ll be here. Might know more than me.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Caitlyn stood, hands trembling.

As she walked back to her car, a small flicker of hope stirred beneath the dread. It was short-lived. But it was something.

And right now, she’d take anything.

******

She stood in front of the back door of The Last Drop, alone in the chilly night air, her coat too thin against the wind. She knocked quietly and waited. Nothing. She knocked again, harder this time. The sound echoed against the metal.

At last, the door creaked open to reveal Huck’s slight silhouette, half-shadowed in the narrow gap. He said nothing, simply stepped aside.

She entered in silence, the storeroom cold and dim behind the bar’s closed doors. Huck led her down the same hallway, to the office she remembered from earlier that day. He opened the door and nodded her inside before closing it behind her with a soft click.

There was someone already waiting for her.

Sitting at the desk was a man at least three times Huck’s size. Broad shoulders, a square jaw softened by a ruffled beard. A heavy presence. But his expression, when he looked up at her, was calm. Almost kind.

“Hello,” she said carefully, trying to sound composed. She failed.

“Hi. Caitlyn, right?” His voice was low, unexpectedly gentle. “Have a seat.” He gestured toward the same wobbly chair she had occupied earlier.

She sat slowly, her hands clenched in her lap. “Who are you?”

“My name is Loris. I’m a friend of Vi’s too.”

The name meant nothing to her. But his tone did. He sounded like someone who knew her.

“Where is she?” The question came out sharp. Too raw.

“That’s a really good question,” he said softly. “I don’t know. We’re looking, but… we have reasons to believe she’s far from here by now. And we’re not even sure she’s…” He stopped. “It’s probable that she’s still alive.”

Her stomach twisted.

“What the fuck happened?” The anger surged before she could stop it. Her voice cracked on the edge of it.

Loris’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How much do you know?”

“I know about Silco. I know he’s dangerous. I know he wants to get to Powder. And I know Vi was trying to stop him.”

The surprise on his face was visible. He wasn’t expecting her to know this much.

“Right…” he murmured. “Then yeah. He’s most likely the one behind her disappearance.”

“You’re not sure?”

“We got the alarm about a week ago. Silco returned to town, and our people picked up intel—reliable intel—that he was preparing something. A plan, probably to get to Powder. She’s in hiding, for now. Ekko’s with her. Benzo left town before it all started. We’ve done what we could. But… Vi’s been missing since then.”

Caitlyn felt the room tilt slightly. Cold seeped under her skin.

“What now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Now we hold the line,” Loris said. “We protect Powder. And we keep looking…for any trace of Vi. We’re not giving up.”

She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat stayed lodged like stone. “So there’s… nothing else I can do?”

Loris hesitated. “Give me your number. I’ll keep you updated if anything changes. I promise.”

Caitlyn nodded numbly and passed him her phone number on a small piece of paper.

He looked at her for a beat. “Vi must’ve trusted you. To tell you everything.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “She did.”

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

“Hey,” Loris said, his voice softer now. “Be brave, okay? We’ll figure this out. We won’t let her down.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible.

She fled the office before her composure could shatter completely.

Back in her car, in the privacy of the driver’s seat, she broke. Sobs racked her chest as she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. She wept for Vi’s crooked smile, her wildfire hair, her molten eyes. Her arms. Her presence. For her voice, her laugh, the way she held her when things were hard.

She didn’t know when, or if, she’d ever see her again.

She couldn’t imagine anything more devastating than this.

******

June 2015

She was a shadow walking on legs. Life had become a constant battle, a relentless effort to stay afloat. Despite everything she tried, she was slowly but surely sinking. Inch by inch. Her friends barely recognized her anymore. They watched her with that soft, quiet worry she had grown to loathe. She moved through her days like a ghost. Empty-eyed, numb-limbed, her skin pale and dull.

Her grades had plummeted. She did just enough to scrape by, gathering the minimum credits needed to pass. Every night she cried herself to sleep, mourning her father… and mourning her. The best friend she’d ever had. The most precious thing she’d ever held in her arms.

Grief had stolen almost everything from her, and what remained no longer felt worth fighting for.

The school year was finally over. The only thing that had kept her upright, anchoring her to reality, was gone. Now, she could fall. Maybe she needed to.

She was on her way to her mother’s house for the weekend when the weight of it all came crashing down again. She had mentioned Vi, once or twice, to Jayce and Mel. Briefly. Just enough to acknowledge the void, not enough to fall into it. But with her mother, there were no words. There was no room. Cassandra had always hoped that Vi would only be a passing shadow, a flicker in Caitlyn’s youth, nothing more. And now that she was gone, it was easier for her mother to pretend she never mattered.

But Caitlyn knew better. That silence was not acceptance. It was erasure. She folded Vi inward, tucked her carefully into the quietest corners of herself. She carried her like a secret relic, like something sacred and vanishing. Her name pulsed beneath her ribs, unspoken. Safer that way. Quieter. Like a name carved into bone. A devotion folded into the silence between each breath.

Some griefs did not belong to the world. They belonged only to the one who carried them.

“Hello, Mother,” she called faintly as she stepped inside the mansion.

“Dear Lord, Caitlyn, you look like a ghost!” Cassandra’s voice cracked with something too close to pain.

“I know. Thank you.”

She felt like a ghost, drifting through the world from some parallel place, where everything was quiet and dead.

“Come here, darling.” Cassandra opened her arms. That was rare enough to be alarming. Caitlyn stepped into the embrace, letting her face rest in the crook of her mother’s neck. But when the tears threatened to rise again, she pulled away.

“I need to talk to you,” she said softly, already tired of her own voice.

“Of course, dear.”

They sat on the living room velvet couch. Caitlyn kept her eyes on her hands, twisting together on her lap.

“I… I struggled to finish the year,” she began. “And I don’t think I’ll be able to face another one. Not yet.”

Her mother’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical,” she said simply. “A year off.”

“But—Caitlyn, the summer is made for rest. That’s what it’s for. You don’t need to throw everything away…”

“I’m tired, Mother. I’m not going to make it unless I stop. I’m not giving up… I just… I need to stop and breathe. This isn’t giving up. It’s survival.”

There was a beat of silence. Cassandra’s face tensed.

“Well… if you really think that’s the right decision—”

“Oh, there’s no right decision!” Caitlyn snapped, her voice rising, sharp with exhaustion. “That’s the point. There is no solution. I’m not claiming this will fix anything. But I know I can’t go back to class like this. And I won’t die if I take a year off.”

She let the silence stretch this time.

“My mind is made up. I hope you can understand that.”

Cassandra blinked, startled by the rare burst of emotion. But when she looked at her daughter, really looked, something in her expression cracked.

“Of course I understand, love,” she said quietly. “I only want what’s best for you. It’s killing me, seeing you like this. And I’m sorry…if I haven’t been supportive enough. You’re right. Maybe some time away will help. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. Caitlyn caught the flicker of pain in her mother’s eyes, and the guilt bubbled up in her chest. She never meant to hurt her. But she had nothing left to give.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

“I love you, Caitlyn. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she murmured, eyes shining. “I love you too.”

And the tears finally came.

******

The buzz cut through the stillness of Caitlyn’s dark bedroom like a drop of ink in clear water. She was lying in bed, curled under the heavy covers, eyes shut tight. As if she could will the world away by simply refusing to look at it. Today had been a disaster. During lunch with her mother, she'd nearly spiraled into a full-blown panic attack over a salt shaker. A fucking salt shaker. Pathetic. She felt like she was unraveling one humiliating thread at a time. She was a mess.

So she'd taken refuge beneath her sheets, not sleeping, not reading, just... waiting. Though she didn’t know for what. Some kind of sign, maybe. But nothing ever came.

Until now.

The low buzz of her phone startled her. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Logic told her to ignore it, that it was probably spam, but something deeper nudged her. A murmur from the part of her that never truly stopped hoping.

She answered.

“Hello?”

A pause. Then, a small, fragile voice: “Caitlyn?”

Her heart stalled.

“Who is this?” she asked, breath catching.

“It’s Powder.”

She shot upright in bed so fast the room tilted.

“Powder? Where are you? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Questions poured out of her, frantic and tangled. Her thoughts leapt straight to Vi. Was this about her? Did Powder know something? Was she safe?

The girl’s voice came again, frayed and quiet: “Do you know where the lab is at the University?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said instantly. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Go there. Find Viktor. He’ll take you to me.”

“Wait, Powder, please, just—”

The line went dead.

Caitlyn stared at the phone, the silence crashing back like a tidal wave. Her fingers tightened around the device as the moment sank in. Something had shifted. Finally.

And if there was even the faintest chance… There was no time to waste. She threw the covers off and got moving.

******

She left her car in the mostly empty parking lot near the University’s Science building. It stayed open year-round—researchers coming and going at all hours, always chasing experiments or thesis deadlines.

Caitlyn nearly ran through the hallways, breath quick, heart pounding. She crossed paths with a few students and staff and asked for Viktor. They directed her to the large lab at the end of the building.

There, a man stood alone under stark white lights, bent over a chemistry table. Tall and thin, he leaned heavily on a cane with one hand, his narrow shoulders curved in concentration. His face was sharp, angular. Cheekbones prominent under pale skin and his amber eyes, intense and distant, stayed fixed on his work.

“Excuse me?” Caitlyn called gently.

He looked up, blinking at her presence.

“Yes?”

“Are you Viktor?”

“I am,” he said with a polite nod, his accent clipped and foreign; eastern European, maybe. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for Powder.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyeing her.

“Hmm. There are several people looking for her. May I ask who’s asking?”

“Caitlyn Kiramman.”

Something shifted in his gaze, recognition, perhaps. Or caution.

“She’s expecting you. Follow me.”

He led her to a door tucked behind the lab and down a long flight of stairs. The further they descended, the colder and more sterile the air became. At the bottom stood a thick white door, secured with a heavy lock. Viktor rummaged through his pocket and selected a key.

“I’ll need to lock it behind you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let Powder know when you're ready to leave, and I’ll come get you.”

Caitlyn nodded and stepped through.

The room resembled a cavern; cold concrete walls, harsh lights, and scattered machinery humming quietly. A couch and TV sat in one corner, a small kitchen in another. Two twin beds were tucked near the back wall. It felt like a bunker, not a bedroom.

“Caitlyn. Hi.”

The voice came from the couch.

Caitlyn’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight.

Powder looked like a ghost of the girl she once knew. Pale, sunken cheeks, dark circles etched deep beneath her glassy blue eyes. Her posture was slouched, vacant. All traces of her former joy, mischief, energy…gone.

“Powder…” Caitlyn breathed and rushed toward her. She hugged her instinctively, fiercely. Powder barely moved. “How are you? What are you doing here?”

“Long story, Sherlock,” Powder muttered, her voice raw. “Hiding, obviously. He knows I’m here, but he won’t make a scene. Not yet.”

“Powder, I’m so sorry…” Caitlyn searched her expression for something, anything, but her eyes were dulled by exhaustion and fear.

“He took my sister,” she said in a hollow voice. “That’s the worst part.”

“Do you…do you have any news?” Caitlyn’s pulse raced with sudden hope.

“You could say that.” Powder’s lips twisted into something like a grimace. “He contacted Loris. Said Vi was alive. Demanded a meeting with me. Loris and Sevika were both there, so no one tried anything. Public place. Both sides had people watching.”

Caitlyn’s hands tightened in her lap.

“How did it feel? Seeing him again?”

Powder’s laugh was brittle. “I wanted to rip his throat out. But I couldn’t. He laid it out: if I ever want a chance of seeing Vi alive, I have to cooperate. I have to answer when he calls. Let him speak to me. Pretend to listen. He demanded my number. Said that if I played nice…Vi might call me.”

“But you don’t know where she is?”

“No,” Powder whispered. “I asked. I begged. He just smiled and said, ‘She’s alive.’ That’s it. Like he was savoring it. Like he was proud of whatever he’s doing to her.”

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. “I don’t know what they’ve done. I’m scared to know. I’m terrified he’s broken her already.”

She started shaking, pulling at her own hair with trembling hands, rocking back and forth. Caitlyn reached for her instinctively, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“He said I shouldn’t expect to see her again. And that if I stepped out of line… he’d kill her.”

The words hit like stones.

“He’s got me. He got what he wanted. I have no choice. I have no choice.”

Her voice broke in pieces, each word heavier than the last. She sobbed harder, fingers tangled in her hair, yanking at the strands with a desperation that bordered on self-destruction. Her frail body rocked back and forth like it had memorized the rhythm of trauma, like this was the only motion that could keep her from shattering entirely.

Caitlyn sat frozen, words strangled at the back of her throat. There was nothing to say… no comfort, no truth, no lie that could ease the terror stamped into Powder’s face. She watched, helpless, as the girl unraveled in front of her, a silent scream rippling through the room like a wave of pain too deep to be heard.

She felt herself slipping too. As if the floor beneath her had dissolved, and she was being pulled into some endless void; an abyss with no edges, no anchor, no light. Just the weight of what was lost, and the unbearable truth that she couldn’t reach her. Couldn’t save her. Couldn’t even lie and say it would be alright.

Only silence remained. Heavy. Absolute.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Powder eventually said, curling in on herself, “there’s no point waiting. She wouldn’t want you to wait. We’re not going to see her again.”

Caitlyn didn’t know how she found the strength to respond.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do anything,” she said. “But Vi… she wouldn’t want you to give up, Powder. Her only wish was for you to be happy. I know that much. Maybe not now, not soon, but… just… try to hold on to that.”

Powder didn’t reply. She just nodded, barely perceptible, her eyes already fluttering closed with exhaustion.

“I should go. Try to rest, alright? And if you ever need anything, you can come to me. Always.”

“Okay,” Powder whispered, and reached weakly for her phone to send a message to Viktor.

Caitlyn climbed the stairs like she was sleepwalking. She didn’t remember getting to her car. She didn’t remember driving home. She crawled into bed like a woman burying herself alive, with the weight of absence crushing her lungs. There was no more pretending. Vi was gone. And the silence left behind was unbearable.

******

December 2015

As Violet once told her, life goes on. And we adapt, because we have to. No matter the pain, no matter the gaping wound carved into your chest, you keep moving forward. Or in Caitlyn’s case, simply moving.

Her mother had, against all odds, managed to free some time out of her impossible schedule to travel to England with her. Cassandra had buried herself in work her entire life, but since Tobias’s death, it had become her second skin, an armor against grief. Caitlyn was glad to have her here, though. Being in their London house, away from the city’s shadows, brought her a kind of peace she hadn’t known in months. A temporary exhale. A quieter kind of mourning.

She had visited Powder once, months ago, after that first encounter in June. The girl still looked like a ghost of herself, but unlike Caitlyn, she hadn’t stopped moving. She kept studying, kept going. Survival through productivity. Caitlyn hadn’t gone back. Selfishly, because it hurt too much. Because seeing her was like pressing on a wound that never healed.

Her thoughts went to Vi constantly. Just as much as they drifted to her father. But Vi’s presence was different. More persistent, more corporeal. Not a memory, but a haunting. She felt her in her blood, like something burning slow under her skin. Like an ache her body had memorized.

Sometimes, she would call her number. Just to hear her voice again.

“This is Vi. You know the drill.”

A cruel fragment of comfort. But she clung to it.

That night, Cassandra had taken her to a piano bar. They sipped drinks across from her Uncle Thomas, letting the slow thrum of jazz fill the space between them. When the first notes of Feeling Good by Nina Simone began to play, Caitlyn’s breath caught.

A memory, vivid and whole, rushed in without warning—

“D’you know what never fails to cheer me up?” Vi had said, slouched across her couch like a lazy cat, eyes sparkling.

“I’m not sure it would work on me, but do tell,” Caitlyn had answered, amused.

“Can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Shoot.”

“Okay, two things. One: Friends. It’s literally impossible not to feel better watching that show.”

“Surprisingly, I agree. Shall we start from the top?”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s a rhetorical question, right?”

Caitlyn had laughed, an open, unguarded sound that only Vi could draw out of her.

“Alright, what’s the second thing?”

“Nina Simone.”

“Nina Simone?” Caitlyn had raised a skeptical brow.

“Yeah. The piano. The voice. That depth. She was complicated, brilliant. Did a lot for the Black community. Changed things. And did I mention the voice?”

“You did.” Caitlyn murmured, already stunned.

They put on “Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” and just listened. Caitlyn had closed her eyes and Vi’s had wrapped her strong, muscular arms around her. She was surprised to realize Vi had been right. She let the raw silk of Simone’s voice lull her. Another moment suspended in time with Vi’s warmth surrounding her.

Back in the bar, reality blurred. The song kept playing, but Caitlyn excused herself and rushed to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cold water, trying to breathe.

Was this her future? Trapped in the grip of memories? Every song, every laugh, every familiar scent or line of dialogue pulling her back into something that no longer existed. Something that ache.

Would the memories always hurt like this? Would they always feel like shackles?

Tightly wound chains around her lungs, dragging her under.

******

May 2016

She was curled up on her couch after a long, dragging weekend. Her body sore from the endless roads, the uncomfortable airport lounges, and the time zones that blurred into one another. She had travelled as much as she could these past months, seeking distraction in motion. France, to meet her father’s distant relatives, a few slow, sunlit days in Italy; then Canada with Jayce and Mel, who remained loyal and patient despite everything. They had clung to her when she couldn’t cling to herself, and she was sincerely grateful for them, even if she struggled to show it.

She switched on the television and pulled Violet’s favorite blanket over her bare legs. She knew she ought to wash it eventually. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. No matter how gross it was, the thought of scrubbing out the last traces of Vi made her stomach churn.

The news was on. There had been an incident at a music festival, something minor, unimportant. But it was enough to drag her back. One more memory she hadn’t been prepared for. One of the last bright ones.

She hadn’t been doing well that day. The weight of her father’s absence had pressed hard against her chest. She kept thinking of his warm embraces, his calming presence, the small, knowing smile half-hidden behind the grey sweep of his beard. Pain all around. Everything reminded her of what she’d lost.

Vi had just told her she sold the Mustang and made some money. Caitlyn had been genuinely happy for her, but as always, joy was short-lived. It was swallowed by that familiar fog of sorrow. Nothing ever lasted. Every light was dimmed eventually.

Vi had looked at her with such gentleness, such aching sympathy, that Caitlyn had been unable to meet her gaze.

“We used to go to Reggae Festivals you know? Vander and I.” Vi said suddenly, her tone playful.

“Really? I didn’t know you liked reggae.” Caitlyn replied, surprised.

“I don’t listen to it as much anymore. But yeah. I used to love it when I was younger.””

Without another word, she dashed to her bag near the door and pulled something out. A moment later, "Here Comes the Hotstepper" by Ini Kamoze echoed through the apartment. And Vi was standing in front of her with a ridiculous black dreadlock wig on her head.

Caitlyn blinked in disbelief as Vi began to dance; badly, freely, completely unbothered.

She couldn’t help it. A laugh broke from her chest, boisterous, uncontrollable

 “What are you doing?” she cried out, half in shock, half in awe.

“C’ mon baby, time to escape from Babylon!” Vi yelled in a terrible patois, grabbing her hand.

“Where did you get this thing?” Caitlyn gestured at the hideous wig, still laughing.

“Found it in a box of old junk in the attic!”

“It’s absolutely horrible.” Caitlyn scoffed.

Vi wiggled her head right in front of Caitlyn’s face, shaking that horror of a wig under her nose like a menace in motion

“You’re crazy! Stop it!” Caitlyn giggled like a school girl.

“You stop it, or I swear, I’ll make you wear it.” Vi threatened very seriously.

“Not in your wildest dreams!”

Of course, Caitlyn remained motionlessly standing, looking at her friend in awe. She had never seen her like this, goofy and free. She couldn’t dance for the life of her, but she didn’t seem to care. She was smiling from ear to ear, turning around on herself in front of a stunned Caitlyn.

Of course, she did end up wearing the wig. And of course, Vi’s wild, gleeful laughter had echoed off the walls, brighter than anything in Caitlyn’s world at the time. She didn’t even dance, she couldn’t, and yet she twirled around like a child, her smile wide, unguarded, electric.

How many layers were there to that woman? In ways Caitlyn could never quite put into words, she was everything she longed for. Perfection didn’t exist in this world, she knew that. But her Violet was perfect nonetheless. Perfect for her. She was quiet and funny. Comforting and raw. She had a way of knowing exactly when to speak and when to stay silent, always finding the words Caitlyn didn’t even know she needed. And now she was gone. Vanished somewhere, sad and alone.

And Caitlyn? Caitlyn had no choice but to go on, to live the life she’d been handed, one step at a time, without her. She would try to forget. But she already knew the truth: she never could.

All she could do now was learn to breathe through the ache, and somehow find the strength to live in a world where Violet Lane had once been… and might never be again.

******

September 2016

It was finally time to go back to class, and Caitlyn believed she was ready. She needed something to focus on. Anything to keep her mind from drifting back to the abyss. The summer had been quiet, moderately enjoyable at best. She hadn’t found the strength to return to the beach house. The idea of revisiting that place, now haunted by every echo of her, was unbearable. The same waters where they had swum. The same yard where they laughed over charred barbecue. The same terrace where she had lost all reason, and kissed her.

That kiss was carved into her memory like an epitaph on a tombstone. No matter how many months, how many years would pass, it never left her. The feel of her soft, wet lips moving with hers. The pulse of her hands on her hips. The scent of her breath, sweet and warm, flowing into her mouth. The silken touch of her tongue exploring hers.

She refused to think about it, but it came back anyway. Tirelessly. Unrelentingly. A torment stitched into her bloodstream. With it came darker thoughts: that she should have taken her to bed. Let Vi's hands chart her body, press against her, melt into her skin. That she should’ve let herself be touched, devoured, undone. She should have asked her to unravel her, again and again, and they would never have stopped, and she would have cried out in pleasure.

She could have had that memory, if only that. But maybe it would’ve made it even harder to breathe now.

And anyway, she couldn’t have. It would’ve been a promise neither of them could keep. And Caitlyn didn’t want to do that to Vi. Or to herself.

A rustling stirred around her, students rising at the end of class, chairs scraping the floor. It was her last lecture of the day. She gathered her things and walked home, distracted. She stopped by her mailbox out of habit, flipping through envelopes without much care. But one stood out.

It wasn’t like the others.

Back inside her apartment, she opened it with a growing, breathless urgency. Inside, a letter. Handwritten. The moment her eyes caught the first word, her pulse stilled.

Caitlyn,

I don’t know if these words will ever reach you. It’s hard to tell from here. But I really hope so. I hope you’re doing good.

I just wanted to let you know that I’m alright. Obviously, it could be better, but it could always be worse. I don’t want you to worry about me.

I had Powder on the phone for a few minutes. It was some time ago, but she’s doing better, I think. She told me she hadn’t see you in a while, but that you looked everywhere for me. That you were really upset.

Please, don’t be. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here, hell I don’t know if I’ll ever leave. But my heart’s still beating, and there’s still air in my lungs, so I guess that means there’s hope.

Don’t wait for me, Caitlyn. Have the amazing life you were always supposed to have. I’m always with you. I know you’ll be great, come what may.

Know that I think about you. Always. When it gets hard, I close my eyes, and I think about your beautiful, sparkling cerulean eyes, and I just know everything will be okay.

Just be happy, for me, please?

Don’t hide, Caitlyn. Resplendent things like you should never hide.

Smile away, gorgeous.

Vi.

Caitlyn couldn’t believe what she was reading.

She read the letter once. Then again. And again. Again, until the words etched themselves into her skin. Her vision blurred. A sob broke free of her throat and her knees buckled. She fell to the floor, one hand clasped over her mouth, crying like she hadn’t cried in weeks.

Vi was alive. She was breathing, and lucid enough to write.

But this was it.

This was goodbye.

Vi had sent her this so she could let go. So she could move on. She cried until her eyes burned, until her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. In the past year, she could’ve wept a desert into bloom. She might have screamed at some point…she couldn’t remember. Everything felt distant. Even her own body.

With shaking fingers, she reached for her phone and made the call. One last time.

“This is Vi. You know the drill.”

The voicemail ended, and she wept harder. With a strangled, pained cry, she deleted the number. Her eyes lifted toward the shelf where the Polaroid still stood; proud, constant. She took it in her hand, pressed it briefly to her heart, then walked to the bedroom and buried it deep inside a closet she rarely opened.

The letter, though, she couldn’t part with it. Not yet. She placed it carefully in the top drawer of her nightstand.

She might need to read it again.

Just a few more times.

******

June 2017

The sun gleamed against the marble tombstone of Tobias Kiramman, casting a soft shimmer across the engraved name like cut glass. Caitlyn stood still, watching it quietly, her fingers tightening around the bouquet of fresh white lilies before laying them gently at its base.

Her mother stood a few steps behind, composed as always.

“He would be proud of you, darling,” Cassandra said, her voice touched with rare warmth.

“Thank you, Mother. He would be proud of you too.”

“We’ve always been a strong family,” Cassandra replied, her tone clipped but sincere.

“Yes,” Caitlyn murmured, “we have.”

“Come inside, dear. Let’s have some tea.” Cassandra placed a hand on her daughter’s back with a familiar gesture; not quite tender, but practiced, almost ritual.

They settled in the parlor, teacups in hand, the silence between them as delicate and fragile as porcelain.

“How have you been feeling, Caitlyn?”

“I’ve been alright. Starting on my thesis. It’s been keeping me busy.”

A pause.

“Don’t you feel… lonely?”

It was a strange question coming from her mother. Too pointed, too rehearsed. The kind that didn’t arise from concern, but from calculation. Her mother rarely ventured into personal terrain without a purpose. Caitlyn knew Cassandra too well; there was always a reason beneath the surface, always a design behind the softness.

Sometimes, in her most honest moments, she thought she might be the loneliest person alive. Not the kind of loneliness that cried out in the night, but the quiet, steady ache that nestled into your bones and made a home there.

Still, she was moving forward. That’s what mattered, wasn’t it? One foot after the other. She had her mother, her friends. She didn’t need anything else. At least, that’s what she told herself. Over and over again, until the lie almost sounded like truth.

“Not at all. I’m fine, Mother.” She sipped her tea, the warmth dulling the lie on her tongue.

“Well… there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

And there it was.

“Hmm. Is that so?” Caitlyn replied, calmly placing her cup back down.

“There’s a family from Australia. Mr. Nolen is an eminent politician in my party and his wife, a doctor. They’ve just moved here.”

“They sound delightful,” Caitlyn said, dry as dust.

Cassandra chose not to react.

“Their daughter, Maddie, is a bright, accomplished woman. She’s doing remarkably well in international commerce. I’ve invited them to dinner next week, and I would very much like you to join us.”

“You’re setting me up?” Caitlyn asked, her brow lifting with theatrical ease.

“I believe it’s time, darling. She could be… suitable. Worthy of you. What harm is there in trying?”

Worthy. The word felt like a splinter in her chest. Sharp. Familiar. Violent in its softness.

Caitlyn took a long breath. She was used to ignoring the clench in her chest by now. She’d mastered the art of swallowing things whole.

“Alright then. I’ll meet her. If it makes you happy.”

Cassandra gave a pleased, practiced smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

Chapter Text

Kaleo

“Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark
Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall
And they will run you down, down to your core
Yeah, so you can't crawl no more

And way down we go, go, go, go
Oh, way down we go
Say way down we go”

April 2015

Vi’s eyes flickered open, heavy with exhaustion. She found herself lying on a bench in the back of a truck, its interior dim and rattling. They were moving. Across from her sat a man wearing a white mask, silent and still. Her wrists were cuffed to a metal railing, and her skull throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, like a hammer driving nails into her temples.

That’s when it hit her. The helplessness. Raw and crushing. She had no idea where she was, no control over what was happening, and the violent urge to cry clawed at her throat. She swallowed it down.

The journey dragged on, endless and disorienting. She drifted in and out of light sleep, each one cut short by the sharp jolt of the road or a change in the guard beside her. They stopped occasionally. She never saw where. The masked man would switch with another, and the silence never lifted. Wherever they were going, it was far. Far enough to make home feel like a different lifetime.

At some point, her body gave in. She pissed herself. But she said nothing. Made no sound. Just sat there, cold and shamed, her dignity shrinking by the minute.

When the truck finally reached its destination (how long had it been? A day? More?) the man in front of her pulled a thick black hood over her head. Darkness swallowed her completely. She heard the doors of the truck groan open, felt a rush of freezing air cut into her skin.

They lifted her like a sack and carried her out with no care for her bruises. No words. No faces. Just hands, rough and impersonal.

Inside the building, or bunker, or whatever this place was, they stripped her. She couldn’t see them, but she could feel the humiliation like fire in her veins. They dressed her in new clothes, the fabric coarse and sterile. No trace of herself remained.

Another walk, more footsteps echoing around her, until finally, someone yanked the hood off.

Blinding light. Cold concrete. A cell.

They threw her in like she was nothing, and the sound of the door slamming shut rang through her bones. Final. Inescapable.

******

The cell was not a place. It was the absence of one.

A coffin with no lid, no end, no sky; just four concrete walls that drank in sound and hope alike. There were no windows. Only a single flickering neon light that stung her eyes and buzzed with a frequency just shy of madness. It stayed on constantly during the first days; white and cold, as if it were trying to bleach the thought from her skull. She didn’t sleep so much as black out in pulses, slipping under and waking up with no sense of how long she’d been gone.

She counted breaths. Steps. Cracks in the ceiling. When that stopped working, she tried forgetting. That worked better than she expected.

The room was outfitted with the barest imitation of human necessity: a bed frame of cold iron with a mattress that felt like it had been stuffed with gravel, a stained metal sink, and a toilet that gurgled like it was trying to laugh. The walls smelled of mildew and old sweat, like the ghosts of every person who’d ever lost their mind inside them still lingered in the pores of the stone.

And then came the guards.

They never spoke. Always two of them. Faces hidden behind masks that seemed to enjoy her confusion. Sometimes they came after she refused food. Sometimes after she sat too long in silence. Sometimes, it seemed, simply because they wanted to. Their boots echoed like thunder when they came down the corridor, and her body would stiffen before the door even opened.

The first time they hit her, she didn’t cry out.
The second time, she spit blood at their boots.
The third time, she laughed, sharp and defiant, more animal than woman.

They beat her until her ribs ached with every breath, until she couldn’t stand without bracing against the wall. Sometimes they left her curled on the floor, struggling to draw air past the weight of her bruises. Her knuckles split from hitting back. Her skin bloomed in shades of violet, green, and coal. And yet, she kept moving. Kept breathing.

Not because she believed she’d get out.

But because they hadn’t won yet.

By the second week, the light turned off.

Just like that. Gone.

No flicker, no warning. Just endless, grey-blue dimness, a half-dark that bled into every corner of the cell. Her eyes strained constantly, trying to adjust, to define the shape of her own limbs, to remember what light had felt like.

She talked to herself at first. Simple things. Memories. Bits of old song lyrics. Powder’s name. Then Caitlyn’s.

“Caitlyn,” she’d whisper, and it would echo softly off the walls like a lie. She imagined her standing in the sunlight, hair pulled back, a hand on her hip and that fire in her eyes that said she didn’t scare easy.

She wondered if Caitlyn was looking for her. If Powder was safe.

By week three, her body had begun to betray her. The swelling on her cheek refused to go down. Her lip had split again. Her hands shook when she tried to do push-ups. Still, she forced her body to move, because motion was defiance, and defiance was the only thing she had left.

Ten squats. Five push-ups. Sit-ups until her gut felt like it would rip.

The food came at random now, slid silently through the door in a tray with water. Cold, tasteless, and small. She made herself eat it. Not out of desire, but out of sheer, stubborn will. If they wanted her weak, they’d have to try harder.

Sometimes she hallucinated voices whispering her name. Powder's laugh echoing in the sink. Caitlyn’s voice murmuring things she’d never actually said: “Don’t give up, Vi. You’ll see me again. You’ll hold me again. I swear.”

Week four broke something.

The beatings grew more frequent. They stopped even pretending to have a reason. Once, they came in while she was sleeping. Dragged her out of bed and slammed her to the ground, kicking her ribs until something cracked and she screamed into the floor. She bled from her mouth for two days after that. Couldn’t stand upright without seeing stars.

But she never begged.

She swallowed the pain and curled around it like a secret. She whispered to her bruises: “Not yet. Not done.”

Sometimes, in the quiet afterward, she would trace the outline of Caitlyn’s face in the air with her fingers. Her brow. Her nose. Her lips. The soft press of that single kiss, the one they never got to talk about; haunted her more than the cell ever could.

It wasn’t that she wanted her to come. It was that she wanted to deserve it if she ever did.

By week five, time no longer felt linear.

There were no mornings. No nights. Only moments between suffering and sleep. She dreamed of rain, of Caitlyn standing beneath a streetlamp, umbrella forgotten, calling her name.

She dreamed of Powder’s arms around her waist like when they were little, her voice small and terrified: “You’re not gonna leave me, are you?” And Vi would wake with her nails digging into her palms, lips pressed tight against a scream.

In week six, she tried to provoke the guards.

They hadn’t visited in three days. Her mind was fraying. So when they opened the door, she lunged at them; weak and trembling but teeth bared, fists flying. She wanted to feel something. She wanted to hurt something.

They pinned her to the ground and beat her senseless.

After, she lay motionless on the floor for what felt like hours. Maybe days.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t sleep. She just breathed.

And somewhere inside that pain, she remembered Caitlyn’s voice again: “You’re so strong.” She clung to that voice like a hand in the dark.

Week seven was silence.

The silence was the cruelest thing.

No footsteps. No doors creaking. No metallic clatter of food trays sliding across the floor. Just absence.         

A quiet so heavy it pressed against her ears like water, as if she were drowning in the stillness itself.

At first, Vi thought maybe they had forgotten her. Then she realized it was worse than that.

They were letting her wait.

She paced the cell in tight, restless lines, barefoot steps scuffing the cold floor. Her ribs still ached from   the last visit. One eye refused to open all the way. She was sure something inside her shoulder had torn, but she didn’t let it stop her. Motion gave her control. If she stopped moving, the silence would eat her alive.

The light, if you could call it that, remained dim and indifferent. A ghost-glow, grey and unwavering.  No indication of time. No shift to suggest day or night. Vi had stopped trying to tell them apart. Her internal clock had rusted into a blur.

At some point, maybe the second day, maybe the third, she stopped pacing.

Instead, she sat against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, head bowed like she was praying. She wasn’t. She didn’t believe in God.

But she spoke anyway.

Whispers at first. Then murmurs. Then full sentences, barely audible:

“You remember when we used to race through the alleyways, Powder? Bet I could still outrun you.”

“Caitlyn... you would’ve hated this place. Too dark. Too filthy. You’d try to clean it. Leave flowers in the corner like you could charm the rot out of it.”

No one answered, of course. But the act of speaking kept her tethered.

When her throat began to ache, she switched to humming.

Old songs. Ones her mother used to sing. Ones Powder had made up. One she heard Caitlyn hum, once, without realizing. They filled the silence like threads pulled through torn cloth. Fragile. Delicate. But enough.

The food didn’t come.

Her stomach clenched in hollow rhythms. Hunger used to make her angry. Now it just made her tired. She drank water sparingly, hoarding what little was left in the cup they’d once given her. She wasn’t sure if they were starving her for punishment or strategy. Maybe both.

She dreamed while awake.

Hallucinations crept in from the edges. A flicker in the corner that looked like Powder’s silhouette. A blue glimmer, always gone when she turned her head. Sometimes she heard Caitlyn’s voice, urgent, panicked; like she was outside the walls, calling her name over and over.

Vi pressed her palm flat against the wall. Imagining warmth. Imagining fingertips pressing back from the other side.

“I'm still here,” she whispered. “I'm still here.”

By the end of the week, if it could even be called that, her voice had gone hoarse. Her limbs trembled when she tried to rise. But she did rise. She pushed through another set of squats, each one a vow. A curse. A prayer.

She wasn't going to die like this.

Not in silence. Not forgotten.

No guards. No food. She whispered to her shadow. To the walls. To Powder. To Caitlyn.

Then, finally, footsteps.

She curled her fists beneath the mattress, ready.

But this time, they didn’t beat her. Just dropped the tray and left. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t eat for hours. When she finally did, it tasted like betrayal.

By week eight, she was counting breaths again. Not to track time, but to remember she was alive.

She did push-ups with bloodied palms. Walked the length of the room over and over, whispering Caitlyn’s name under her breath like a mantra. She imagined Caitlyn finding her. Touching her face. Calling her "Violet" like it meant something safe. Something sacred.

She imagined Powder running into her arms, still small, still innocent. Still hers.

By week nine, the cell was no longer a cage. It had become a crucible.

She had been broken, again and again, until even the cracks had cracked. And what was left now, sitting in the dark with knuckles wrapped in makeshift cloth torn from her sheet, wasn’t quite the same woman who’d been dragged in here.

She wasn’t healed. But she was tempered.

Her body was still thin, bruises blooming like night flowers across her ribs and thighs. Her cheekbone had set wrong after the last beating; she could feel it shift slightly when she clenched her jaw. Her voice, once gravel and venom, had softened into something calm. Low. Unbreakable.

She no longer waited for food. She worked.

Every moment of stillness became movement. Stretching, pacing, strengthening what hadn’t been completely ruined. She pushed her body until her lungs rattled in her chest, until her muscles quivered under her weight. When she couldn’t stand, she breathed through the tremors and started again.

She was training. For what, she didn’t yet know. But it wasn’t just to stay sane anymore. It was preparation.

Something was coming.

The guards came less now. Maybe they thought she’d given up. Maybe they were waiting for her to collapse under her own weight. But when they did appear, they found her standing, back against the wall, eyes bright despite the shadows, fists clenched like fire waiting for a spark.

They beat her anyway. But they no longer left satisfied.

Vi didn’t scream anymore. Didn’t grunt or curse or even spit blood at their boots. She took it. Silently.

And when they left, she rose, slowly, like a sunrise over broken ground.

Then, she whispered to the cracks in the concrete: “You’re not gonna break me.”

Her mind wandered often now, not in weakness, but in defiance. She crafted whole conversations with Caitlyn in her head. Sometimes playful, sometimes heartbreaking.

She pictured her face in detail: the curve of her cheek, the stern set of her brow that melted when she smiled. Vi remembered the way she’d fidget with the cuff of her sleeve when she was trying to hide how nervous she was. The way her laugh had felt like gravity giving way.

She imagined them in a park somewhere, sitting on the edge of a fountain, knees touching, hands almost brushing but not quite.

Powder, too, came to her in fragments. Not the woman she'd become, but the girl she once was. Blue-haired and wild-eyed, clinging to Vi’s side like a second shadow.

In those moments, Vi didn’t weep. She remembered. Anchored herself in what mattered. Because even in this place, even after everything, she refused to let the world strip her down to nothing.

And when the silence tried to bury her again, she carved her name into the wall with a shard of metal pried loose from the bedframe. Just two letters. Jagged. Crooked. Bleeding rust.

V-I

I am still here.

By the end of week nine, she wasn’t just enduring. She was waiting. Watching. Ready.

Because something had shifted. She could feel it in the air. The silence wasn’t aimless anymore. It was thick with anticipation.

******

June 2015

The next time they came, they didn’t speak. They just slammed her against the cold wall and cuffed her wrists. Without a word, they dragged her out of purgatory.

Vi walked between four guards, their boots thudding in sync along dim, damp hallways. Up flights of concrete stairs that felt like they had no end. Her knees ached with each step.

At the top, a heavy door opened. And the noise hit her like a punch to the gut. Voices. Screaming. Banging metal.

It had been so long since she'd heard another human sound. The sudden chaos crashed over her like a wave, and her body recoiled instinctively, shoulders tightening, breath catching. They were moving her out of solitary. Into the general prison population. She understood it immediately. They had kept her caged and beaten, starved and silenced, not just to break her; but to parade her weakness. She was being thrown to the wolves, and they wanted the whole pack to smell the blood on her.

The corridor was lined with cells, faces pressed to the bars. Rabid eyes. Crooked smiles. Some inmates barked. Others cackled. Fingers pointed, tongues wagged. One spat. Another banged their head repeatedly against the bars, chanting something in a guttural voice.

Vi straightened as much as she could, forcing her broken ribs to hold her up. She wouldn’t let them see her fall. Not yet. Not ever, if she could help it.

The guards led her up to the second level and marched her down another row of cells. Then they stopped. The door opened with a mechanical groan.

“Inmate 516,” one of them muttered. “Welcome home.”

They shoved her in and slammed the door shut. It echoed like thunder in her ears. The din didn’t stop. But Vi barely noticed it now. It felt… alive. Brutal, yes. But alive. And after weeks in a soundless grave, that was something.

The new cell was slightly larger than the hole she came from, but not by much. A rusted toilet. A cracked sink. Bunk beds against the wall. On the top bunk, a woman sat motionless. Watching her.

She had dark, coiled curls and sun-warmed skin. Her sharp brown eyes were calm but unreadable, veiled in a quiet hostility. Beautiful, even here. But dangerous. Her silence was a blade held against the throat of peace.

Vi held her gaze. Not to intimidate. Not in challenge. Not in submission. But to say, I’m not afraid of you.

Without a word, she lowered herself onto the bottom bunk. The mattress was thin and filthy, but it wasn’t the concrete.

The noise raged outside the bars, echoing like thunder across steel and stone. But for once, Vi didn’t care. The pain was still there. The exhaustion still clung to her bones. But her heartbeat felt real again. Present. She didn’t know what waited for her next. Didn’t know who this woman was. Or how long she'd survive in this place. But right now, she could lie down. Right now, she could close her eyes.

And right now… was enough.

******

The cafeteria was wide and oppressively bright. A silence hung over the place. Not peaceful, but tense, like a coil wound too tight. Vi kept her head down as she moved along the queue, trying to make herself invisible. Her limbs still trembled when she walked. The ache in her ribs hadn’t dulled. She couldn’t afford attention. Not yet.

She’d caught a glimpse of a calendar on the back wall of a cell earlier. A small, handwritten date circled in red. That’s when it hit her. Nine weeks. She’d been alone in that concrete box, counting cracks and breathing ghosts, bleeding into silence for nine fucking weeks.

Her tray rattled slightly in her hands as she carried it to the far end of an empty table. She moved slowly, cautiously, and sat on the edge like she was afraid it might disappear beneath her. Of course, it was too quiet to last. A tall woman blocked her view.

Muscular. Broad-shouldered. Her skin was deep and gleamed under the harsh light. Her hair was pulled into neat, thick braids, and her stare could’ve stripped paint. She was looking Vi up and down with cruel amusement.

Vi didn’t move.

The woman didn’t speak. She simply reached down and plucked the tray from in front of her. Took the main. Took the dessert. Every movement slow, deliberate.

Vi kept her eyes on the table. Not in submission, she was past shame, but in strategy. She bit the inside of her cheek, tasting blood and pride, and stayed absolutely still. She couldn’t afford a fight. Not today. Her body wasn’t ready. Her time would come.

The woman lingered a moment longer, as if disappointed by the lack of resistance. Then she turned and walked away, carrying Vi’s meal like a prize. Vi waited. Watched her sit. Watched her begin to eat. Only then did she rise, still silent, and take her tray to the bin.

It had been like this for days. Some days, she managed a few bites. Other days, nothing. Her body was trying to claw its way back to strength, but it needed time. More than she had.

When she made it back to her cell, her Latina bunkmate was there, stretched out on the top bunk with a paperback in hand. The woman glanced down at her, exhaled sharply through her nose, and shook her head without a word.

Then she turned the page and kept reading.

******

August 2015

She was slowly, painfully getting better. Her body no longer buckled with every movement. The bruises were still there, but fading. Her thoughts didn’t spiral quite so violently. But she still wasn’t allowed outside for promenade with the others.

Silco’s words echoed more clearly with each passing day. She was getting special treatment, alright.

Still, she had access to the gym now, and she rushed there every chance she got. Moving made her feel almost human again. Her body was a long way from strong, but it was hers, and she would reclaim it inch by inch.

The whispers about her had begun to die down. The storm of curiosity that followed her arrival had waned. She could feel it in the air. Less eyes on her back, less weight in the stares.

In the past weeks, whenever her tray was stolen in the cafeteria, and it still was, often; her cellmate would leave her something. Never anything big. A cookie, once. A tasteless yogurt another time.
Vi would nod silently, accept the offering, eat in silence. They never spoke. She hadn’t heard the sound of her own voice in so long, she sometimes wondered if it still worked. But the gesture… it meant something.

The showers were still the worst. She’d been jumped twice already. Brutal, cowardly ambushes, three against one, minimum. She tried to fight back, but her strength hadn’t returned fully, and her opponents didn’t play fair. She would crawl back to the cell, hunched over, bleeding from her nose and lips, her jaw pulsing with each heartbeat. And every time, her cellmate would glance down at her from the top bunk with that same unreadable expression.

Just once, Vi thought she saw it. A flicker of pity, swimming in those sharp, dark eyes. Gone as fast as it appeared.

******

September 2015

Something snapped inside her that day. She felt it like the sudden crack of a rope pulled too tight, splitting open from her skull to her gut.

The same woman, tall and broad-shouldered, approached to take her tray. Just like always. But Vi had run for over an hour that morning. Her muscles screamed for fuel. Her body couldn’t take another day of nothing. And this time, she didn’t let it slide. She stood up. Calmly. Deliberately. The woman paused, visibly surprised. But not impressed. Not yet.

Until Vi grabbed the tray and smashed it into her face.

She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Something wild had uncoiled inside her, and it was too late to rein it back in.

She tackled her to the ground and kept going. Used the tray’s corner like a blade, driving it into her face again. And again. And again. When the tray finally slipped from her fingers, slick with blood, she used her fists. She pummeled anything she could reach; jaw, ribs, cheekbone, shoulder.

A pair of hands yanked her back. Then another. Even as they dragged her off, she thrashed, relentless, feral. The woman lay motionless on the cafeteria floor, face slick and red, blood pooling around her like a mirror. And suddenly, everything was quiet. The entire room had frozen. Dozens of prisoners staring at her with something between shock and wariness. No one moved. No one spoke. It was the first time Vi realized the cafeteria had ever been silent.

A sharp blow landed in her stomach. It knocked the breath out of her lungs, and the world swayed.
She didn’t resist when they took her away.

It cost her another week in solitary. But when she came back, the woman was gone. And no one ever touched her food again.

******

October 2015

She felt the outside air on her skin, and the natural light hitting her retina like a blessing, for the first time in seven months. It was indescribable. She closed her eyes and let it sink in. The breeze kissed her face, soft and cool, stirring the hair at her temples. She stood barefoot on the grass, the earth alive beneath her feet. For a second, she wasn’t in prison. She was just a body breathing under an open sky. Tears pricked at her eyes. She swallowed them down.

A lilting voice pulled her from the moment.

“How long has it been?”

She opened her eyes. Her cellmate, silent for months, stood beside her, arms crossed, gaze curious.

Now she wants to talk?

“Seven months,” Vi rasped. Her voice sounded like gravel, but the words came. It felt strange. Good, even. A reminder she could still talk. Still be human.

“Shit,” the woman breathed. “You’re a machine.”

Vi didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how. Like her words had forgotten how to form.

“You wrecked that bitch,” the woman added casually. “Heard she was in the infirmary for three weeks.”

“I was hungry,” Vi said flatly.

The woman laughed. A sharp, bright sound that cut through the heavy air like wind chimes in winter.
She held out her hand.

“Carmen.”

Vi stared for a beat, then took it.

“Vi.”

Carmen grinned. “Better not mess with you, Vi.”

“Only when I haven’t eaten,” she replied, then nodded toward her. “No one messes with you either.”

“Oh, I’ve been here a while,” Carmen said, eyes glinting. “I’m more of a sneaky bitch.”

Vi cracked a smile. The first in what felt like decades. It didn’t fix anything. But it reminded her that maybe, just maybe, something inside her could still bend without breaking.

******

December 2015

Carmen’s back slid against the wall. Vi’s fingers were buried knuckles-deep inside her, her mouth devouring the Latina’s lips like a woman starved. Carmen moaned softly into her tongue, her thighs clenched around Vi’s hips, her breath growing ragged. Vi’s hand moved with practiced ease, her thumb flicking over a taut nipple as Carmen shuddered in her arms.

The orgasm hit in waves, sharp, breathless. Carmen gasped, her forehead resting against Vi’s shoulder as she came, her body trembling with release. A low, shaky laugh escaped her lips.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” she whispered, breath still catching in her throat.

“You’re easy to work with,” Vi murmured back, letting Carmen’s legs slide gently to the floor.

Carmen smirked. “You sure you don’t want me to…?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Vi’s voice was quiet. Certain.

She never let anyone touch her. That was a rule. One she hadn’t broken. One she couldn’t.

They’d been doing this for a while now. Vi hadn’t meant for it to happen. At first, she’d resisted; too full of ghosts, too in love with someone she’d never truly had. But Carmen was funny, and soft in the right places. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t try to pry open the parts of Vi that stayed locked tight. Caitlyn was gone. Maybe forever. She would never be Vi’s. Maybe she never was. And Vi needed the contact. The illusion of closeness. Something, anything, to keep the cold at bay.

So she gave Carmen her hands. Her mouth. But never anything more.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even comfort. It was survival.

******

February 2016

The guards stormed the cell without a word. Carmen’s eyes widened with unease as they grabbed Vi, their hands rough, their silence more menacing than threats. She didn’t resist. There was no point.

They dragged her deeper into the prison, through corridors she had never seen, until they reached a small, sterile room. Two chairs. A table. Nothing else. Interrogation.

They shoved her into the seat and cuffed her wrists to the table. Then they left.

For a long time, there was nothing. Just the cold of the metal against her skin and the hum of dread growing in her chest. The door opened. A man entered; mid-fifties maybe, suit immaculate, hair greying at the temples. His steel-grey eyes held no emotion. No humanity. He sat in front of her and slid a phone across the table.

“You’ll hear the rules once. Only once,” he said calmly, voice smooth as glass. “You do not want to learn what happens if you break them.”

Vi said nothing. She didn’t need to. The air told her everything she needed to know.

“You will not speak about this place. Not a word about your cell, your treatment, or how you got here. You will be calm. You will be reassuring. Just pretend you’re at summer camp.”

He smiled like a butcher admiring his own blade.

Then, slowly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Loaded it. And pressed the cold barrel to her temple. Vi shut her eyes. For a second, she thought this was it. That this would be the end. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t plead. There was no room for mistakes. This man would not hesitate.

The man dialed a number. Put it on speaker. Her heart pounded like a drum in a hurricane.

“Hello?” came a voice. Powder.

Vi’s throat closed around her name. Her eyes burned.

“Powder?” she managed. Her voice shook.

“Vi?! Vi, oh my God, it’s really you—it’s you, right? Vi!” The sob that followed cut through her like a knife. She hadn’t heard that voice in so long, except in dreams and madness. Hearing it felt like brushing heaven with her fingertips. Close enough to sense its warmth, yet forever out of reach.

“It’s me, Pow,” she whispered. “It’s really me.”

“What happened to you? Where are you? I’ve been going crazy, Vi…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to—”

“No, hey, hey, calm down.” She fought to keep her voice level. Warm. “I’m okay. I’m safe. Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault, okay?”

“I miss you…” Powder whimpered.

“I miss you too. Are you safe?”

The pressure of the gun returned to her temple, warning her.

“Yeah… Silco’s around but he doesn’t push too hard. I still go to school, I—I’m managing. Are you okay?”

“I’m safe,” Vi lied. “That’s what matters. You need to keep going. Go to class. Eat. Sleep. Be safe.”

“Vi…”

“Promise me,” she said sharply.

“I…”

“Promise me!” Her voice cracked.

A click. The gun shifted against her skin.

“I promise,” Powder breathed.

“Good.” Vi exhaled. “That’s all I need.”

“Will I see you again?” The voice was so small.

Vi glanced at the man. He shook his head once.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Maybe not. But I’ll be okay. I promise. Just remember me, and live your life. You’re strong, Pow. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll try…”

A pause.

“How’s Caitlyn?” Vi asked before she could stop herself.

“I haven’t seen her in a while… She looked everywhere for you, Vi. She was…she was shattered.”

That pain. That guilt. It gutted her all over again.

“If you see her… tell her I’m okay. Please.”

“I will. I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” Her voice broke. “I love you too.”

Click. The call ended. The gun disappeared back into the man’s coat. He stood, smug and calm.

“That went well,” he said. “I hope you enjoyed it. It was probably the last time you’ll ever speak to her.”

And then he left.

Vi sat frozen, eyes locked on the wall in front of her, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. It was done.
That voice, the one she’d heard in dreams, the one she’d carved into her soul, that was the last time she’d hear it. But Powder was safe. Silco would continue to orbit her world for as long as he could, but she was protected. Vi would tuck that thought into a velvet-lined box, like a golden chain of inestimable worth, and hide it deep in the hollow of her heart. She would guard it with her last breath.

She was preparing to die here. That was her reality now. And she had to find a way to accept it

******

May 2016

Carmen was sitting cross-legged on Vi’s back, flipping through a magazine as Violet did push-ups beneath her. Carmen’s body rose and fell with the rhythm of Vi’s breathing, her arms flexing with each slow descent.

“Carmen?” Vi asked between strained breaths.

“Yeah?”

“I need something,” Vi said. “I need to get something out of here.”

“Sure. And I need a glass of champagne and a bubble bath.” Carmen snorted without looking up.

“Come on,” Vi groaned. “There’s got to be a way. This place runs on favors and dirty deals. Don’t tell me there’s no one to bribe.”

“Oh, there is,” Carmen said, finally lowering the magazine. “What are we smuggling out?”

“A letter,” Vi answered.

Carmen’s lips curved. “A love letter?”

Vi didn’t answer. She just looked at her.

“Alright…” Carmen tapped the magazine against her knee, studying her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Vi exhaled, standing, her gaze unwavering.

“But know this,” Carmen said quietly. “Everything has a price. Especially in here.” Her eyes lingered on Vi’s face, and something passed through them then, something soft and strangely sad. “I just hope you’re ready to pay it.”

******

July 2016

The offer came through whispers. Not a guard, but one of the inmates with pull.  Rika. sharp eyes, sharper teeth. No one knew why she wasn’t rotting in a higher-security wing. No one asked.

“You want something out,” she said, picking at her nails with a piece of wire. “I can make that happen. But there’s a price.”

Vi didn’t blink. She already knew the game.

“What kind?”

Rika smiled. “There’s a girl in G-block. Stole from me. I want her in the infirmary. Nothing permanent. Just... a message.”

“You want me to hurt her,” Vi said flatly.

“I want you to remind her who runs this place.”

Vi stared. Jaw tight. Her fist flexed at her side like it had its own thoughts. Rika leaned in, voice a hiss.

“You don’t have to like it. But that letter? No one smuggles anything out without me saying yes.”

The next morning, Vi made her way to G-block. The girl, Nessa, they said, was in Cell 12. Quiet. Young. Barely twenty. Vi watched her through the bars. Something in the tilt of her head, the shape of her mouth, reminded her of Powder.

Shit.

She waited for the next yard break. They crossed paths behind the tool shed. No cameras. No witnesses. It was supposed to be quick. Vi stepped in front of her.

“You’re Nessa?”

The girl blinked, wary. “Yeah. Who—”

Vi didn’t wait.

She slammed her fist into Nessa’s gut. Hard. The girl folded with a gasp. Vi grabbed her by the collar and kneed her in the stomach again, twice, until she crumpled. Another punch. Straight to the nose. A crack. Blood. Nessa whimpered, confused, her hands barely raised in defense. Vi didn’t stop. She yanked her up by the hair, slammed her head against the concrete wall once. Twice.

Then she let go. Watched the girl collapse in a broken heap.

Still, Vi crouched down, grabbed her by the shirt, and hissed in her ear:

“Rika sends her regards,” she said. A final backhand to the face. Sharp. Dismissive. And she walked away.

That night, the note was under her tray. Folded tight. One line, scrawled in sharp ink:

“She’ll get it. You’re welcome.”

She sat on the cold floor, arms locked around her knees, blood still crusted under her nails. She couldn’t stop seeing Nessa’s face. Couldn’t stop hearing the wet sound her skull made against the wall. Couldn’t stop wondering how much of her soul she’d sold for one scrap of paper.

What would Caitlyn think if she knew? Would she still say, you’re strong? Would she still believe in her? Probably not. But it didn’t matter. Because Caitlyn would never know.

This wasn’t a burden she could share. It was Vi’s. And she would carry it. Alone. Until death came to collect and finally pull her under in its sweet arms.

******

January 2017

She had made herself a few enemies and a handful of “friends.” Enemies were real. Friends were mostly currency; temporary, conditional, brittle as glass. There had been more fights. More solitary. More beatings. Her body was starting to fail. Her mind, too. Sometimes, she didn’t recognize her own reflection in the mirror of her thoughts.

She was lying on her bunk, facing the wall, when it happened. Three girls stormed the cell.
Rough hands yanked her to the floor, her cheek slammed against the concrete with a sickening crack.
Two held her down. Another cradled her back and yanked her head up by the hair.

She felt it then. The kiss of cold metal against her throat. The hot, fetid breath of Piper in her ear.

“I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she hissed, voice syrupy and manic. “I’ll slit your throat and let you bleed out on the floor. No one will come for you.”

 No one will come for you.

That was it. This was how it ended. Vi stared at the floor, her ribs crushed under the weight of the girls, her heart racing as if it knew before she did. Would it be agony? Would she feel the warmth pour out of her? Or would it be black, sharp and sudden?

She wanted to scream, but her voice had fled. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. She had never felt fear like this. Not even as a kid. Not even in solitary. This was different. This was final.

 The room folded inward. Her heartbeat crashed in her ears like waves against concrete. Each breath felt stolen, ragged, borrowed from a life not hers anymore.

And then— She slipped. Out of her body. Above it, almost. Detached. A floating, watching thing.

The weight of the girls vanished. The stink. The cold. She wasn’t there. Not really.

Instead—Caitlyn.

Out of nowhere, like a match struck in a cave. Sitting across from her on that ridiculous velvet couch. A mug of tea cradled in her hands. Smiling, faintly. Firelight flickering in her eyes.

“Vi…” her voice whispered, not here, not now, not real—but Vi clung to it like a lifeline. “You’re still breathing. You’re still here.”

And then, just like that, they were gone. Laughter in the corridor. Echoes fading.

Vi remained there, trembling on the floor, her face slick with tears, heart rattling like a broken engine.
Her arms gave out when she tried to rise. Something in her had cracked. Split wide open and would not close again. She knew it, deep in her marrow.

She would never be the same.

******

March 2018

She lives in the blur of some kind of routine. The nights always bring terrible nightmares, leaving her heaving, her body covered in pools of sweat staining the sheets. During the days, her legs kept moving miraculously. She had no idea how she was still able to work out, to eat, to fuck, but she did. Hadn’t she once said that we tend to underestimate our ability to cope? She discovered everyday how right she had been.

The worst part was the way her memories seemed to fade slightly. Her brain struggled more and more to conjure the soft features of Powder’s face. Caitlyn’s voice was crackled in her mind; it wasn’t as clean as it used to. She tried to remember her lips, the way it curved, the feeling of her tiny waist in her hands. The only thing that remained clear and open were her eyes. The deep, blue sky eyes she missed more than anything in this world. The ocean she would never swim in ever again.

She still tried, every day, every time the weight of this torturous place felt to heavy. It was like she was gradually forgetting she had a life before all this. The reality here was so harsh, so fresh it obliterated everything else. Laughing with Ekko. Watching Snatch while smoking a joint with Mylo. Bickering with Powder. Smelling Caitlyn’s silky hair. Kissing her lips, tasting her tongue. Breathing her moan. This was probably what she feared the worst. More than physical pain. More than dying. The idea that it will become this vague echo of a memory as the years will continue to pass.

The shower room was silent, save for the hiss of water, when it happened. The world tilted. Then stilled. Then… a blur of motion, a flash of steel. A sudden, brutal twist, and the sharp edge of a knife sinking into her abdomen. The shock of it was immediate, searing through her, ripping the air from her lungs. She gasped, her breath catching as the pain exploded through her core, and instinct took over. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her stomach, but the blood was already beginning to seep between her fingers, warm and thick.

The sound of the blade retracting was sickening, a metallic scrape, and before she could even register the full weight of the injury, she was stumbling, her legs wobbling beneath her. The water, once warm and soothing, now felt like ice, drenching her as she blindly tried to push herself away from her attacker. Her breath was ragged, the world tilting, but she didn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop.

Her attacker stood over her, a sneer on her lips, but she didn’t have time for fear. Her mind was clouded with pain, but something deeper inside her sparked to life; she wasn’t not going to die here, not today.

Not like this.

She kicked out with her leg, her foot catching her attacker’s knee with a sharp crack. The woman stumbled back, surprised by the force, and for the briefest moment, she found herself free. Her body was trembling, a mix of adrenaline and blood loss, but she didn't give in.

Her hand grabbed the showerhead, wrenching it from its mount with a desperate, frantic yank. She swung it with all her remaining strength, the metal pole striking her assailant across the side of the head. The impact sent a shockwave through her body, pain exploding in her abdomen, but she didn't stop. She didn’t have time to think, only to act.

Her attacker, a woman named Cassie, stumbled, dazed, but she didn’t wait. With a growl, she charged forward, her body screaming in agony with every movement, but her rage burning hotter. She lunged, pushing her back against the wall with a force that surprised even her, and then, with every last ounce of strength, she slammed her knee into Cassie’s gut, knocking the wind out of her. The blade clattered to the ground, forgotten in the chaos.

Her breath was ragged, her vision swimming with spots, but her body moved on its own; survival instinct overriding everything else. She grabbed the knife, her fingers slick with blood, but she didn’t hesitate. She drove it forward, once, twice, three times; each thrust more urgent than the last.

Finally, she pulled back, her body trembling, but she stood there, watching her attacker crumple to the floor, the fight having drained from them as quickly as it had surged.

She staggered back, her own blood soaking the cold tile beneath her, but she stayed standing, breathing heavy. Her abdomen burnt, the wound gnawing at her, but she was still alive. The blade had tried to take her down, but it hadn't succeeded. Not today.

She pressed her hand to the wound, blood continuing to spill, but there was no time to think about that for the moment. She needed to move. She needed to get out. The pain will come later, but for now, her body had won the fight, and she was still breathing.

She woke up in a small, dark room, to a row of medical beds. She stayed in the infirmary for a few weeks, the nurses making sure she had no infection, and showing her mercy for once in her life by giving her time to recover before throwing her out in the lion’s den.

For the first time in years, she took a look at herself in the mirror.

Her body told a story of endless torment; each mark a chapter of suffering etched in her skin. Bruises of deep purple and sickly yellow danced across her arms and legs, where the impact of countless blows had left its mark. The flesh was swollen, a mosaic of broken capillaries, like the fading remnants of violent storms.

The skin around her ribs was taut and streaked with jagged red lines, some still raw, others fading into scars that weaved across her torso like a cruel map. Her back bore the brunt of the abuse, with dark welts crisscrossing the expanse, remnants of fists and strikes that sought to break her spirit as much as her body. There were areas where the skin had been torn open, shallow but painful gashes that never fully healed, each one a reminder of how close she came to losing herself.

Her hands were calloused and battered, fingers stiff from being held in unnatural positions. Her nails were chipped, some broken, as though the act of fighting back was instinctual, even when it seemed hopeless. There were deep indentations on her palms, the shape of someone else's grip, the imprint of the force that held her in place during moments of sheer terror.

Her face was no less a battleground. Her cheekbone was sunken slightly, a subtle mark where a blow had once landed. The VI tattoo on her face reminded her of who she used to be. A thin scar cut across her jawline, a cruel reminder of the time she was left too long to bleed. Her lips were cracked, split open in places, with the skin around her mouth bruised to a sickly green. Her eyes, however, remained the most haunting feature; dark, deep pools that betrayed the quiet resilience hidden behind the façade of pain. They were wide, filled with an emptiness that only years of enduring violence could cultivate.

Even her neck carried the weight of her ordeal. There was a long, faint scar along her throat, a place where fingers once pressed too tightly, as if someone had tried to choke the life out of her in a single, merciless grip. It would disappear eventually, she hoped.

Yet, amidst the brutality of it all, the scars didn’t speak of defeat. They spoke of survival, of a body worn but unyielding, a vessel that had weathered every storm and remained standing, despite the relentless battering.

******

September 2019

Carmen was in awe, transfixed by the intricate tattoos inked across Vi’s bare back.

“They’re beautiful. Incredible. I can’t believe Rika actually managed to do that for you,” she murmured, her fingers grazing the skin with something like reverence.

“She needed the practice,” Vi shrugged. “I got three weeks in solitary for being caught, but… it was worth it. It healed pretty well. You remember Julia? The nurse who’s kinda into me?”

“You mentioned her.” Carmen smiled, amused.

“She helped me out. Quietly. Covered for the healing and everything.”

“How lucky.” Carmen chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.

They were interrupted by the metallic shriek of the cell door sliding open. A guard stood there, not one of the usual grunts, and something in his posture was… off. Almost hesitant.

“516,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

Vi stood slowly, slipping her shirt over the fresh ink, frowning as she noticed he wasn’t reaching for cuffs. They walked through the halls, passing gate after gate, each one opening without a word. No sideways glances, no hostility. Only that eerie, uncertain silence.

Eventually, they reached a wide administrative office. A different guard handed her a folded set of clothes and led her to a private room. A private room.

Clean, quiet. With a mirror. She changed, her movements stiff and mechanical, like she was slipping into someone else’s skin.

When she returned, they gave her a backpack. Inside: a bottle of water, her old wallet (God, it still existed) and a few crumpled bills. She was escorted outside. And then…there it was.

The gate.

The one she’d never seen. The one on the other side of her nightmares. She stared at it, her feet frozen to the pavement. Beyond it stretched a narrow road, a flat horizon, and a wide-open sky. Cars drifted past in the distance, indifferent. Somewhere, a bird was singing.

The guard opened the last gate. He looked at her, not unkindly.

“Good luck,” he said simply.

Vi’s throat tightened. “What the fuck, man?” she breathed. Her voice barely existed. “Am I… am I free?”

The guard nodded once. “Yeah. You’re released.”

“But—how?” She looked around, as if someone was going to jump out and tell her it was a mistake. “What happened?”

“No idea. We just got the order this morning.” He shrugged. “You’re free to go.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Vi didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her mind screamed trap, her limbs locked in place. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Not after everything. She pinched her arm, hard. It stung. Still here. Still breathing.

She stared out at the road, the empty stretch of it, the vast nothing behind it. Her chest tightened. Her lungs weren’t working properly. The open air felt foreign, like it didn’t belong in her lungs anymore.

She had never dreamed of freedom. Not because she lacked imagination, but it simply wasn’t part of the equation. Freedom was a myth, a story told to someone else. Her nights had been carved from the same stone as her days: dark, merciless, echoing with pain. After so long, the idea of anything else felt like heresy. There was no ‘after.’ There was only survival.

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Chapter Text

The Cinematic Orchestra

“By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me

And, I built a home
For you
For me

Until it disappeared
From me
From you

And now, it's time
To leave and turn
To dust”

September 2019

She had no idea where she was. She stood there for what could’ve been minutes or hours, staring blankly at the road as cars passed by like ghosts. Her brain had locked itself into a semi-conscious state, her body stiff under the weight of too much sky.

Everything was too open. The horizon bled endlessly into itself, with no walls, no wire mesh, no barbed limits to hem her in. The wind pressed against her face like a presence too alive. The sky felt infinite, mercilessly vast, and she felt dizzy with the weight of it. Her knees gave out. She bent forward and vomited the meager contents of her stomach onto the gravel. Acid stung her throat. She spat, breath ragged, one hand on her belly, trying to ground herself in the here and now. But there was no ground. Not really.

Who was Violet now?

The woman standing here wasn’t the one who got locked up. And she wasn’t quite the one who’d survived it either. She was a ghost without a grave, a body without instructions, a name without a meaning. Freedom was in the mind. And hers was still sealed in concrete.

She sat down on the edge of the road, utterly defeated, knees drawn to her chest like some feral thing. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. What now? She needed a plan. A direction. A map back to a life she no longer remembered how to inhabit.

Powder. Caitlyn. Ekko. Mylo. Benzo. The garage. Her tools. Her old life. What about Silco? Why release her now? Had something happened to Powder? The thought punched through her ribs like a knife. Her chest tightened. She reached for the backpack they’d given her, hands trembling as she searched inside.

Her wallet was still there. So was the Polaroid.

The picture. The one she took of Caitlyn almost five years ago, with fingers shaking so badly she almost dropped the camera. She stared at it like she hadn’t seen color in years. Her breath caught, and tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. Caitlyn. Her light. Her breath. Her forever. How had she ever forgotten the exact angle of her smile?

She held the photograph like a lifeline and watched the daylight shift across the road until the sky darkened. She had almost forgotten how beautiful she was. How vital.

She finally rose. Her legs were unsteady, but they worked. Checking road signs, she picked a direction, any direction, and started walking. She needed to find the nearest town. A bank. A connection. Maybe her account still had money from four years ago. She would need it to get out of here. She would need it to get home.

If home still existed.

******

She walked for hours in near-complete darkness, guided only by the flash of passing headlights and the dull glint of faded road signs. Her feet were raw in her shoes, but she didn’t stop. At some point, out of desperation more than hope, she tried hitchhiking. A kind old man pulled over and agreed to drive her to the nearest town. She didn't ask questions. Neither did he.

She arrived sometime past midnight. The streets were mostly empty, the world muffled in sleep. She wandered aimlessly for a while before finally spotting an ATM. Her fingers trembled as she slid the card in.

29,000.

She stared at the screen in disbelief. That had to be a mistake. But it wasn’t. The number didn’t vanish.
She exhaled a choked laugh of relief. It felt like someone had handed her a threadbare lifeline. Enough to breathe. To exist. She spotted a rundown hotel nearby. It would do.

The room was small and stale, but it had a door she could lock and a bed she could claim. She peeled off her clothes and stepped under the shower. Hot water. Real privacy. She leaned into the stream, letting it burn her skin clean, but the comfort was fleeting.

A flash. The blade. The burst of pain. The blood.

Her knees buckled. She slid down the cold tile, curling into herself as the water hammered her back. Her chest rose and fell erratically, breath catching in her throat.

In. Hold. Out. Again.

She anchored herself to the rhythm, riding out the wave of vertigo until the panic retreated like a tide.

Later, she crawled into bed naked and unconscious before her head hit the pillow.

She woke up to the sound of firm knocks on the door.

Golden light filtered through the slats in the shutters. She blinked against it, disoriented. For a second, she didn’t remember where she was. And then she did. And it landed like a slap. She would probably feel like this every morning from now on.

“Time to leave the room, Miss,” called a woman’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Vi croaked, voice like gravel. “I’m getting up. I’ll leave.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Vi groaned as she rolled out of bed. Her limbs protested every movement. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, nearly crying at how good that felt. Clean. Fresh. Human.

She got dressed, slung the bag over her shoulder, and stopped at reception to ask the man behind the desk where to find a car dealership. He gave her a map, a set of bus timetables, and circled a few key points in town.

Downtown was alive. Too alive. The noise, the people, the motion…it was all too much. Every brush of a stranger’s shoulder made her flinch. She hated how visible she felt, how soft the world had become around her edges. She ducked into a clothing store. She needed new clothes. Something simple to armor herself with. To get rid of the stench they were covered off.

She chose a plain white T-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie, worn open. Beige cargo pants and new white sneakers. The woman at the register gave her a confused look when she handed over her old prison clothes.

“Can you throw that away, please?” Vi asked flatly.

She left without waiting for a reply.

She took the bus to the dealership and browsed the lot with a careful eye. She settled on an old Honda Civic from 2011—nothing flashy, but clean, reliable. She paid in full, got the keys, and hit the road.

She stopped at a gas station. Bought a physical map. It was a long way home. But she had time now. She had nothing but time.

She drove all day, through the evening, into the small hours of the night. When fatigue clawed at her, she pulled into a rest stop and slept in the car for a few hours. Woke stiff and aching, bought a sandwich and a soda from a vending machine. She ate quietly, without thinking, just absorbing the taste.

Then back on the highway.

She drove slow. Took in the trees, the fields, the curve of distant hills. Part of her longed for home. For Powder, for Ekko, for Benzo. Just to see their faces. To make sure they were okay.

But another part of her felt dread clawing under her ribs.

The town might still be the same. They might still be the same. But she wasn’t.

She was something else now. Something unrecognizable. It was a good thing the road was long. It gave her time to adapt, to breathe, to try and remember how to exist outside a cage.

The Civic purred steadily beneath her, the cool interior a cocoon. Another night on the move. Another bland sandwich. Another Coke, sweet and bubbling on her tongue like some forbidden luxury.

God, that felt good. When freedom is a given, you forget how exquisite the small things are.

A life on the road didn’t sound so bad. No roots. No ties. No bars. Just miles of open sky.

******

She parked outside the old house just as the last light drained from the sky. She didn’t know where else to go. Had no idea if anyone still lived inside these walls. But it was her only option. Her best guess.

She stayed in the car for a while, watching the porch, unmoving. No light escaped through the cracks in the blinds. No sound. No sign of life.

Eventually, she stepped out and made her way to the door, slowly, each step deliberate and careful, like her body was still catching up to the idea that she was allowed to be here.

She took a deep breath and knocked, softly.

Silence stretched out, until she heard the heavy shuffle of steps on the other side. The door creaked open.

Benzo stood there. Older. Grayer. His eyes sunken with time. He blinked at her, like she was a hallucination. His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked stunned, like his brain was trying to rewind and replay the last ten seconds.

“Vi?” His voice cracked around the name, small and disbelieving.

“Yeah. It’s me, old man,” she rasped.

“I can’t believe this…” He muttered it like he was talking to himself.

“I’m here.” Her voice barely held. “How have you been? Where’s Powder?”

“Uh—fine. She’s fine, don’t worry. She... she doesn’t live here anymore. Her and Ekko got their own place. Near the university.” He stumbled through the words.

“Oh. Okay.” She nodded faintly.

“Well—come in, come in,” he said, stepping aside like he’d only just remembered they were still standing on the porch.

She stepped inside.

The air hit her first; familiar, musty, thick with old wood and weed. Then came the sight of it all: nothing had changed. Same furniture. Same scratches on the floor. Same photos on the walls. It felt like walking into a memory, one that hadn't aged even though she had.

They sat in the living room, and, without thinking, Benzo started rolling a joint. Old habits dying hard. Vi watched him silently, not quite ready to speak. When he lit it, the flame from the old lighter cast a flicker across his face, and for a second, he looked young again.

“Damn, kiddo…” he muttered, scratching his forehead. “Didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

His voice wavered. His eyes were wet, and he didn’t hide it.

“Neither did I.”

“What happened to you?” The question burned his tongue on the way out.

“Jail,” she said. Just one word. It was enough.

“Oh…” His face tightened, unsure what to do with the weight of it.

“What happened here?” she asked. “I got released, but... I don’t even know why.”

Benzo took a long drag, exhaled slowly.

“Silco’s dead, Vi.”

Her whole body stilled.

“He’s dead?” Her voice cracked open. “How?”

“Some other gang moved in. Guy who was faster, smarter. Took him out. No warning. He was just... gone.”

“Fuck.”

That was it, then. The monster that haunted her sleep, the shadow that stole years of her life. Gone. Just like that. This was hard to believe...something almost too good to be true. But hey...we're all equals in the face of death, aren't we?

She stared at the floor for a long moment, like trying to anchor herself in this new reality.

“I mean…” Benzo continued softly, “We thought you were dead. We mourned you, Vi. For years.”

The tears finally breached his eyes. He didn’t wipe them away. He just let them fall.

“I’m not dead.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

But she wasn’t sure it was true. Not completely.

“Can I crash here tonight?” she asked. “I’ll go see Powder in the morning.”

“Of course. Your room’s still here. Untouched. You can stay as long as you need. This is your home.”

Vi didn’t answer right away. Your home, he’d said. The words rang hollow in her ears. Like a language she used to know, but could no longer speak. How could she belong here, after everything? After what she’d done to survive? After the years spent behind concrete, being remade into something unrecognizable?

She nodded slowly, but inside, it twisted. What if she no longer fit in the skin they remembered? What if Powder looked at her and didn’t see her sister anymore…just a stranger carrying her face?

 “Thanks, Benzo. I’m wiped. I’ll go lie down.”

“Alright, kid. Get some rest.”

She turned toward the stairs.

“Hey, Vi?” His voice stopped her.

She glanced back.

“Yeah?”

Benzo smiled, soft and weathered. “I’m glad you’re home.”

******

She woke up at 1pm. Almost 15 hours of sleep. Her body needed it. Her spirit craved it. Her brain had trouble following her body to the shower. It felt like a constant high, unreal and distant. She went down to see Benzo perched on a chair on the kitchen table, picking food from his plate.

“Sleep well?” he asked with a small grin.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She breathed, returning the tight smile.

“Come here. Eat something.” He gestured to a full plate in front of him. Vi was starving, like she hadn’t eaten for days. She ate it all in a few minutes.

She sauced her plate with a slice of bread and turn to Benzo.

“Can you give me Pow’s address?”

“Of course.” He wrote it down on a piece of paper and slid it in her palm.

“So, she lives with Ekko, uh?” Vi chuckled.

“Yeah, they uh…they’re kind of a thing now.” He struggled to get the words out.

“A thing? What do you mean?”

“They’re together, is what I mean.”

“Oh…” Oh…her mouth shaped a perfect “o” as she realized what he was implying.

“Fuck…didn’t see that coming…” Vi muttered.

“Really?” Benzo laughed noisily, and Vi smaller laugh joined him.

“Guess I should’ve seen it coming.” She snorted with a puff of her nose.

He just winked at her.

“Thanks for the address. I’ll go there now.”

He nodded goodbye and Vi stepped outside to her car.

******

It felt strange, driving in the city. Gazing at places soaked in brighter memories. Ones she didn’t know how to hold anymore. Everything looked like it had a sepia filter over it, faded and remote. Home. But not hers, not really. She’d become colorblind to it all.

They were living in a decent apartment building. The paint looked almost fresh. The kind of place with steady plumbing and quiet neighbors. She sat in the car for a moment, heart loud in her ears, watching the door. She didn’t want to ring. Didn’t want to be announced.

She slipped in behind a woman with groceries and rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. Her feet felt heavy. Each step toward their door was deliberate, like walking into a memory she wasn’t sure she deserved to see again.

She knocked softly.

A second later, the door swung open.

Ekko stood there.

His face had hardened, jaw more angular, body leaner, but his eyes were still the same. Deep, dark, and watchful. For a second, he just stared, frozen, like someone had paused him mid-breath.

“Holy motherfucking shit. Powdeeeer!” he yelled, not taking his eyes off her, panting.

She startled. Was he okay? Was he going to pass out?

“What’s with the horror movie scream, you fucking weirdo?” a voice snapped from deeper inside. Vi’s heart caught in her throat. Her legs almost gave out.

Then she was there.

Powder.

She appeared in the doorway beside Ekko and stopped cold.

Her jaw dropped.

It was the kind of moment Vi thought only happened in films. Everything slowed, stretched, went quiet. Just her sister’s eyes, wide and shimmering. Just the weight of what they’d both lost in the space between them. Those seconds again, the ones that lingered endlessly.

“Vi…” It wasn’t even a word. It was a breath. A prayer.

“Missed me, little gremlin?” Vi said, her voice almost steady. The corner of her mouth lifted.

And then Powder’s slim frame crashed into her. Arms flung around her, face buried in her neck. She cried like she’d been waiting years to do it, and maybe she had. Vi held her close, arms tight around her, feeling every tremor, every broken sob. Her hands moved instinctively, rubbing circles on her back, anchoring her. Powder’s sobs were raw, but Vi only felt relief. Her sister was warm. Real. Alive. She thought about the weeks in that frozen tomb, her skin a map of bruises, her body barely hers anymore. The way Powder had kept her going. The memory of this hug. This exact moment.

“You’re here,” Powder choked, tears soaking Vi’s hoodie. “Shit, I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I’m here.” Vi whispered into her hair, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of her head. “I’m here now.”

Ekko was still in the doorway, mouth open, eyes wet, like he couldn’t quite process the moment in front of him.

“I thought you were…” Powder didn’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” Vi murmured. “I know. But I’m not. I made it.”

“Come in,” Powder said, but she didn’t let go of her. Couldn’t. She kept an arm looped tightly around Vi’s waist as she guided her inside.

The place was a mess. Empty bottles, scattered tools, half-finished tech projects cluttered every surface. It was chaotic, vibrant, and Powder. The air smelled like solder and sugar.

They sank onto the couch, Powder’s head on Vi’s shoulder, her breathing still shaky. Ekko sat across from them, silent but glowing.

“What happened to you?” Powder finally asked.

Vi exhaled through her nose. “Not much. Jail.”

“You were in jail?” Ekko echoed, stunned.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Vi. That’s… that’s horrible.” Powder sat upright, brows furrowed in worry and anger.

“It’s the past,” Vi said simply. “It’s done. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You’ve been through hell.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice was firmer now. She needed this boundary. “We’re here. We’re together.”

Powder bit her lip, blinking fast. “You’re still doing that thing. Pretending like what you went through doesn’t count.”

“It counts.” Vi looked at her, tired and tender. “But I’m not letting it win.”

Powder swallowed and nodded. “You’re fucking impossible.”

Vi smirked. “You’re just figuring that out?”

Powder laughed through her tears, nudging her playfully.

“I tried to get you back, you know,” she said, voice low. “I did everything I could. I played along with Silco. Met with him, lied to him, begged… nothing worked.”

Vi’s jaw tensed. “I know. You did more than anyone ever could. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you. I’m proud of you.”

“He’s dead now. Did Benzo tell you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good riddance. I hope he rots.” Powder said, fire in her voice.

Vi didn’t respond.

“Did you… did you talk to Caitlyn?” Powder asked.

The question hit like a punch to the ribs. Vi stiffened. The room tilted slightly. Caitlyn’s name was a wound she hadn’t dared reopen.

Vi stiffened. Her eyes dropped to the floor. “No.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“I don’t want to. Not now. Don’t say anything.”

“Vi…”

“Please, Powder.”

Powder studied her face, saw the cracks forming again. She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“What are you going to do now?” Powder finally asked.

Vi shrugged. “No idea.”

“Well… I want you to take care of yourself. I’m serious. I won’t let you drown. Never again. You hear me, you stubborn loser?”

“Yeah, I hear ya, dickhead.” Vi grinned faintly. It felt like home.

“I’m making you a doctor’s appointment,” Powder said, already reaching for her phone.

“What? No—”

“Nope. No arguing. You’re going. You don’t get to scare the shit out of us and then pretend everything’s fine.”

Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t fight it. Not tonight.

Maybe she was just tired enough to let someone else care. For a little while.

******

October 2019

The doctor’s office smelled like antiseptic and wilted orchids.

Vi sat on the edge of the examination table, elbows on her knees, back hunched, fists clenched tight like she could hold her breath inside them. Her shoes scraped against the floor, restless. The hum of the fluorescent lights above made her flinch, just slightly.

Her eyes roamed the walls. Diplomas in tidy frames, books lined up by size, a tiny potted plant on the windowsill clinging to life. Across from her, Powder was a quiet shadow in a chair, legs pulled close, sleeves covering half her hands. Her gaze flitted from the doctor to Vi, like she could sense a storm building in the space between them.

The man before them looked soft in the way old stones are soft, worn, not weak. His voice was calm, deliberate, textured with years of listening to things people didn’t want to say.

"Miss Lane," he began gently, "thank you for agreeing to come. I understand this isn't easy."

Vi said nothing. Her gaze flicked to Powder, then to the floor.

"We don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready for," he continued, hands folded in his lap. “But it would help if you could tell me what happened to your body. What it’s still telling you.”

A long silence stretched. Vi’s jaw ticked once.

“They broke my ribs,” she said, flat. “More than once. Nose too. Lost track of how many times they went for the same spot. Easier to break a crack that’s already there.”

He nodded, scribbled a note. She hated the sound of it.

"My shoulder’s still fucked. Some tendon, maybe more. Sometimes it locks up. Fingers too." She flexed her hand absently. “Dislocated a few. Didn’t set right. Still usable.”

“What about sleep?” the doctor asked.

Vi looked up. Her face didn’t change, but her voice thinned, like it had to pass through broken glass.

“I don’t. Not much.”

“Nightmares?”

She gave a hollow smile. “Every time I close my eyes.”

He nodded again, slowly. “What kind?”

Her jaw clenched. She looked at Powder.

“Not in front of her.”

Powder leaned forward, elbows on her knees. Her voice was soft but unwavering. “I’m not leaving you.”

Vi didn’t answer. She looked back at the doctor. “Just write the diagnosis down. I already know what it is.”

“PTSD,” he said softly. “Severe.”

A beat.

"Your body’s holding a memory it can’t release. And your mind is reliving what it can’t forget. That’s not weakness, Miss Lane. It’s survival."

“I’m done surviving,” Vi muttered. “I just want it quiet.”

The doctor leaned forward. "There are ways to help. It won’t erase it, but it can take the edge off. Medication, if you want. Or something slower; grounding exercises, breath control, EMDR. We start by teaching the body it’s safe now. That it doesn’t have to fight every time the air gets still."

“I don’t want drugs.”

“Alright,” he said. “We don’t have to start there. Do you get panic episodes? Flashbacks?”

Vi hesitated, then nodded once.

“Sometimes I forget I’m not still in it. Smells, sounds… sudden movements. I lose track. I can’t breathe. Can’t move.”

Powder looked ready to break. Her nails dug into the sleeves of her hoodie.

The doctor offered a piece of paper with a small diagram—four squares. “This is a simple grounding technique. For the next time it hits. You focus on five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear. Two you can smell. One you can taste.”

Vi took the paper without looking at it. Folded it. Tucked it into her sleeve.

“It won’t work,” she said.

“Maybe not the first time. Or the second. But it gives your mind something to hold onto. It’s not a cure. It’s a rope. For when the water gets too high.”

Vi gave the barest nod.

They talked a little more; appointments, follow-ups, the possibility of therapy. Vi said little. Powder said less. But when they left the office, Vi kept the folded square in her pocket.

******

The car ride was quiet. Not the peaceful kind. More like the quiet that settles over a battlefield when the smoke hasn’t cleared yet.

Powder drove. Her hands gripped the wheel like it might try to escape her. Eyes fixed on the road. Jaw set. The engine hummed between them, steady and indifferent. Outside, the grey sky sagged low, draping the city in a dull silver hush.

Vi sat in the passenger seat, forehead pressed to the window. The glass was cold against her temple, grounding. She could feel her sister glancing over, quick and nervous, like a hand that doesn’t dare to touch. Vi didn’t move. She’d said too much already. Maybe even felt too much.

“He seemed nice,” Powder said eventually, her voice small, like she was afraid of breaking whatever thread kept them stitched together.

Vi didn’t answer.

“He didn’t push. That was good.”

Still nothing. Just tires rolling over wet pavement.

“I think…” Powder hesitated. “I think he understood.”

Vi exhaled through her nose, breath fogging a pale bloom on the window. “Doesn’t matter if he did.”

“It matters to me.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t empty. It pressed in on them.

“I just…” Powder’s voice cracked slightly. “I hate not knowing how to help you.”

“You helped,” Vi said, low and worn. “You got me there.”

“Yeah, and now what? I just keep dragging you from one room to the next, hoping someone’ll tell me how to fix you?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m broken.”

Powder winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” A beat. “I just don’t know what’s left to fix,” Vi added. Her voice barely more than a rasp. “Some days I feel like I’m held together with duct tape and bad jokes.”

Powder blinked hard, once. Twice. “You’re still here. That’s what matters.”

Vi turned to her. Really looked. Not the kid anymore. Not the wide-eyed mess she’d carried through fire. She was older. Edged. A little haunted. Just like her.

“Don’t carry this, Pow,” Vi said. “Not for me.”

“I already do.”

They stopped at a red light. Powder’s jaw clenched once. Vi reached out, slow and unsure, and laid a hand on her knee. Just a touch. A quiet offering.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For not letting go.”

The light turned green. Powder drove on.

Nothing was fixed. The pain was still there, curled up in the back seat like it belonged. But something small had shifted.

A thread tied. Frayed, sure. But strong enough to hold.

******

The room was steeped in quiet. Not the kind that soothed, but the kind that stalked. Heavy. Breathless.

Powder had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed again, curled like a ribbon, half-tangled in her blanket. She hadn’t said anything about it. Just dragged the pillow down and stayed. Vi hadn’t protested. She didn’t have the energy to pretend she didn’t need the anchor.

It started the way it always did.

A flicker behind her eyes. A cold draft that wasn’t real. A scream building where her breath should be.

Vi’s body jerked. Limbs locked. Her jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. She bolted upright, the sheets twisted around her like restraints.

Her chest rose once. Then again. Then the air caught.

She couldn’t breathe.

She was back there. The neon light flickering overhead, buzzing like it wanted inside her skull. The smell of bleach and blood in her nose.  Boots pounding down the corridor.  Three women pinning her down, one pressing a blade to her throat.

“No,” she gasped.

Her legs carried her before she could stop them, crashing into the dresser, the corner catching her hip. A photo frame shattered against the floor. She didn’t flinch. Powder jolted awake.

“Vi?”

Silence. Just Vi’s breath, ragged. Just the sound of her fists pressing against the wall, not punching — holding. Like if she let go, she’d vanish.

“Vi,” Powder tried again, quieter this time. “You’re safe. It’s me. You’re home.”

Vi shook her head, slow and sharp.

The guards had come in while she was sleeping. No warning. Just fists, boots, blood in her mouth. She’d screamed into the floor and no one came. No one ever came.

No one will come for you.

“Don’t,” she muttered.

Her voice was hoarse, low. Not angry. Not directed. Just… full of something she couldn’t keep down anymore.

“Vi—”

“I said don’t.” Her voice broke on it.

Powder froze.

Vi’s shoulders trembled. Her fists fell to her sides. She leaned her forehead against the wall, breathing like it hurt.

Powder didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just waited.

Eventually, Vi turned.

Her eyes were glassy, distant. Her knuckles split open. Blood smudged the inside of her palm. She looked down at it like she didn’t recognize it as hers.

There was a night she’d split her hands open on the concrete wall, praying to a god she didn’t believe in to just let her die. The blood had dried into her fingerprints. She’d woken up with it caked in the creases of her mouth.

Powder rose carefully. Took one step. Then another. She didn’t reach for her. Just knelt, slow, and placed a towel at Vi’s feet.

“You don’t have to talk,” she whispered. “But you don’t have to go through this alone either.”

Vi didn’t answer. She just lowered herself onto the floor beside her, back to the wall, legs drawn up. Her breath was quieter now, but uneven. Like her body hadn’t gotten the message that the war was over.

Powder sat too, knees brushing. They didn’t look at each other.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The silence softened.

Eventually, Vi tilted her head back and whispered, barely audible:

“I didn’t know if I’d make it back.”

“You did.”

Vi’s voice cracked, just once. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know,” Powder said. And she did.

They stayed there, side by side, on the cold floor, in the dark.

Powder didn’t go back to sleep. Vi didn’t try. But she didn’t get up again either.

******

A few weeks later, Vi couldn’t take it anymore. As grateful as she was to be near her sister again, the walls felt too tight. Powder hovered. Kindly, anxiously, constantly. She insisted on sleeping in the same room more often than not, as if her presence alone could ward off the darkness clawing at Vi’s edges. But Vi knew better. Knew how much it cost her.

Powder had a life. A job. A future that still had its pages unwritten. She didn’t need to waste her hours patching together someone else's ruins.

One morning, over a quiet breakfast, Vi cleared her throat.

“Hey, Pow?”

Powder looked up from her coffee. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna stay in my old room for a while. At Benzo’s.”

She tried to sound casual, but her chest tightened around the words. She had stared down guards with blood on their boots and knives in their belts, but this? This was harder.

Powder blinked. “But… you’ll be alone. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m sure.” Vi forced a small smile. “I need the quiet. And you…” she nodded toward her “…you’ve got your own stuff to focus on. You shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you.” Her voice was soft. Then, after a beat: “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Vi chuckled. “We’ll still see each other all the time. I’m not disappearing.”

Powder bit the inside of her cheek. There was hesitation, yes—but something else, too. Maybe relief. As if some part of her had been waiting for Vi to stand on her own legs again.

“You better not disappear, asshole.”

Vi’s grin was lopsided. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright then,” Powder said, exhaling slowly. “Just… don’t shut me out again. Please.”

“I won’t.” And she meant it. “I’ll head over tonight.”

“I’ll probably show up with food every other day, you know.”

“I’m counting on it.”

******

December 2019

They’d kept Christmas small. Quiet. Just family, or what remained of it.

Mylo had hugged her so tightly she swore something cracked. He didn’t say much, just held her like he couldn’t believe she was real. Ekko got teary. Benzo cooked like he always did. Powder buzzed between rooms, keeping her hands busy, like if she stopped moving for too long, something might fall apart.

Vi smiled. She smiled a lot that day. She laughed when she was supposed to. She nodded. She listened. She ate the food. She even helped decorate the tree, clumsy hands tying ribbons she couldn’t quite feel.

But it was all acting. Performance on loop. Smile. Breathe. Answer. Don’t shake when someone touches your shoulder.

Her energy went into being here. Into pretending her brain wasn’t still half-stuck in a windowless cell somewhere, curled up on a concrete floor with no concept of time or space.

The nightmares still came. Most nights, she woke up choking on them. Her knuckles split again from clenching too hard in her sleep. Some mornings, she woke on the floor without remembering how she got there.

She worked out obsessively. Ran, lifted, trained until her body trembled. Not to stay strong, but to exhaust herself enough to sleep.

She still didn’t know what she was going to do with her life. Mostly, she survived. Quietly. Invisibly.

And when the noise faded, when she was alone again at night, the silence filled with her.

With Caitlyn.

It was unbearable, the way missing her never stopped. It didn’t fade like it was supposed to. It deepened, calcified in her chest like a second ribcage. Some days, she swore she could still feel her—her voice, her laugh, the ghost of her fingers pressed to Vi’s wrist.

Four years. Surely Caitlyn had moved on. Fallen in love with someone steady. Someone whole. Vi hoped so. She really did.

But even as she hoped, she couldn’t stop the ache. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to see her again. To touch her. To explain the unexplainable.

She’d promised herself not to think of her. Told herself it was kinder this way.

But the more she pushed it down, the harder it pressed back.

She just knew she couldn’t bear it. The weight of it all. The pull. The sharp gravity of love that hadn’t dulled with time, that still curled hot and electric in her chest when she dared think of Caitlyn.

It wasn’t just the memory. It was the ache of something unfinished. Untouched. The way her body still remembered the shape of longing even when her mind begged it to forget.

She wasn’t strong enough. Not in her bones. Not in her breath. Not in the shattered scaffolding of her mind.

And lately… She was starting to wonder if she ever would be

Maybe it was for the best. Back then, she'd already been bad news. Too rough around the edges, too volatile, too much of everything. And not enough of what mattered. But now? Now she was wreckage. A poison. A hollow thing patched up with silence and willpower, barely stitched into something that looked human.

Caitlyn didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve someone who flinched at shadows and woke up screaming. Someone who measured each day in breaths survived rather than moments lived.

Better to leave it buried. Better to keep her distance and spare them both the mess. Safer that way. Even if it tore her apart.

******

Powder’s voice rang out like a bell on a quiet morning.

“I have a surprise for you!” she grinned, bouncing on her heels like a kid who couldn’t wait to unwrap something.

Vi narrowed her eyes. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see,” Powder smirked, jingling her car keys. “But you gotta come with us. I’m driving.”

“Shotgun!” Ekko called from the hallway, and Vi couldn’t help but laugh. A real one. It tumbled out of her chest before she could stop it. These were the moments that made it feel like she still had a pulse.

They drove. Out of the city, past the sharp edges of urban decay, toward open sky and fields dusted in snow. Powder took the back roads, the kind that stitched together forgotten towns, sleepy villages, and fences falling apart in the cold. The mountains loomed in the distance, their white peaks cutting the sky like blades.

Vi sat in the back, watching the world soften. Her nerves pricked with anticipation.

“How far are we going?” she finally asked, her voice quiet over the rumble of the engine.

“Almost there,” Powder said, her eyes gleaming in the rearview. “It’s about an hour and a half from the city.”

The car slowed near a winding path bordered by tall pines. Powder pulled into a long gravel drive, and then Vi saw it.

A house. Large, weathered but proud. Wooden slats, faded blue, with a wraparound porch half-sunk under the weight of snow. Ivy still clung to the side in brittle tangles. The windows reflected the light of the frozen lake beyond, which stretched wide and still like a mirror holding back the sky. A pontoon reached out from the bank like a hand, and beyond it, the woods gathered close; dense, old, and quiet. The wind sighed through them.

Set to the right of the house stood a massive, corrugated metal workshop, the kind you could lose a lifetime in. A place built for labor, for solitude. It had its own chimney, and behind it, more forest, more quiet.

Vi got out of the car and stared. Her breath steamed in the cold air. The house didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. But it felt like something watching her. Not hostile. Not welcoming, either.

Just... waiting.

“What is this place?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Powder came up beside her. “Yours.”

Vi turned sharply. “Mine?” Vi laughed, sharp and incredulous. “Right. Forgot I owned lakeside property. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Powder shrugged. “I’m serious. One of Silco’s old properties. A safehouse, or something. His lawyer called me a few weeks after he died. Said it was left to me in some back-channel will. Guess he didn’t trust Sevika to hang onto everything. She didn’t want it anyway. Said it gave her bad dreams.”

Vi blinked. “So you thought I’d want it?”

“No. I thought you might need it.”

Vi’s fists clenched in her coat pockets. “You want me to live in a place that belonged to him?”

“Yeah,” Powder said simply. “Because he’s dead. And this place…this place doesn’t have to be him anymore. It can be you. If anyone can turn rot into something beautiful, it’s you.”

Vi looked back at the house. The workshop. The still lake. A small rowboat was tied to the dock, half-covered in frost. The mountains stood sentinel behind them all, unmoving, unflinching.

“It’s not much,” Powder said. “Needs work. Paint. Repairs. The plumbing is shit. The whole place is half-forgotten. But the bones are good. You could make something new out of it.”

Vi didn’t answer. Her eyes were scanning the place like it was a crime scene.

“There’s a room inside,” Powder added, “locked when I first came. When I opened it, it was just empty. Like he’d never finished what he started. But it felt... like something waiting to be rewritten.”

She paused.

“I don’t want this place. I never did. But I thought…if anyone could reclaim it, you could.”

Vi said nothing for a long time. Then she looked down at her boots, snow crusting around the soles.

She exhaled, long and slow. Then she smiled. Small, but real. “You giving the tour, or what?”

Powder’s grin bloomed, wide and bright. “Sure.”

They walked toward the porch, their footsteps muffled by the snow. As they passed the boathouse, a bird scattered into the sky, wings flashing. The silence returned.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Vi didn’t feel like the silence was winning.

******

March 2020

For the past three months, Vi had thrown herself into the house like it was the only thing keeping her alive. And maybe it was.

She painted the exterior white, with soft blue shutters that caught the light just right at dusk. She gutted the kitchen, tiled it clean, bought a plush couch that swallowed her whole when she collapsed into it at night. Her hands found satisfaction in the work, calloused and cracked, yes, but no longer shaking. Her heart followed. So did her head.

It was the first time in years she could breathe without counting how long she had left.

The air out here was different. Real. Unfiltered. Her lungs had forgotten what clean oxygen felt like, but they were learning again. The sunlight carved soft gold into her skin, and her tattoos, black ink running up her arms and curling at the base of her neck, seemed to breathe with her.

She was someone again. A body. A mind. A pulse. With wants. With a future.

That morning, she took the boat out on the lake. The water was glass, broken only by the oars slicing through it in gentle rhythm. The forest surrounded her like a secret. The world was quiet enough to believe in healing.

In the afternoon, she had errands in town. Pick up supplies. Finalize delivery for the new bike. Normal things. Life things.

But one thought kept circling back. Obsessive. Relentless.

Caitlyn.

She’d heard pieces. That Caitlyn was still working at the University. Teaching, giving lectures, writing papers. She’d done a feature in some high-profile documentary. People talked. It wasn’t hard to find her name attached to prestige.

It wasn’t a surprise. Vi had always known she'd thrive. She just hadn’t expected it to still sting. She told herself it was curiosity. Just one glance. A way to bury the past with certainty.

But she knew better. This wasn’t curiosity. This was gravity.

Late afternoon she parked across from the museum. The sky bruised lilac, the streets thinning out. Vi sat behind the wheel like a fugitive. Her hands were cold. Her heart wasn’t.

People trickled out. Coats, chatter, keys jingling. Normal lives. Unburdened ones.

Then she saw her.

Everything inside Vi collapsed.

And it hit like lightning. Not metaphorical. Not poetic. Real. The kind that fractures the sky and leaves the air humming in your bones.

Just like the first time.

Seven years hadn’t dulled the impact. If anything, time had preserved it, pressed it between the pages of Vi’s soul like a wildflower; fragile, impossible, perfectly intact. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Every nerve lit up. Every scar hummed.

It was the same rush. The same awe. As if the universe had snapped its fingers and undone the distance.

Time hadn’t passed. Not really. Not for this. Not for her.

Tall. Composed. Wrapped in a charcoal-grey coat that clung perfectly to her frame. Her hair was longer now, pulled into that same high ponytail, except for the loose strands that always seemed to fall just right. The sunset struck them with indigo fire.

Her walk hadn’t changed. Her legs went on forever, moving with that slow, deliberate elegance only royalty seemed to possess. Untouchable, unhurried, like the world made room for her stride. Her colleagues laughed at something she said, and her smile…

God, that smile.

Vi’s breath hitched. She pressed her palm flat to her sternum like she was trying to hold her heart in place before it shattered from the pressure.

She’d forgotten how much it hurt to want someone like this. Not want. Need. The kind of need that rewired your bones.

Caitlyn’s voice didn’t reach her, but Vi could feel it. The echo of it. The precise tone of her laugh. The cadence of her words, etched in Vi’s memory like a scar.

Vi’s gaze clung to her like a hand clinging to the edge of a cliff; desperate, breathless, knowing one slip meant the fall.

Her lips still called to hers, soft and familiar, a whisper her body never stopped answering to, even in silence. Her sculpted cheekbones still begged for the graze of her fingertips, like they remembered being touched. And the blood still surged, hot and fast, rushing to her skull, to her chest, to the deep ache blooming at her core. A sprint with no finish line.

Those eyes. Striking. Vast. The deep-blue kind you could drown in without ever wanting to surface. They were painted behind Vi’s eyelids. Clearer than memory, sharper than pain. A picture that revealed itself every time she dared to blink. Every. Damn. Time.

Almost eight years, and still, they remained the most hauntingly beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Not a day passed without her chasing that shade of blue in the dark.

The feeling was too big. Too old. It wasn’t love anymore. It was architecture. It was DNA.

This was the reason Hell would always be a place she’d come back from. Because Caitlyn existed. Because love like that didn’t vanish. Not with time, not with distance, not with pain. Vi still loved her with the same raw, aching clarity as the very first second. And not being with her, not holding her, not touching her…it still cut just as deep. A blade, buried and twisting. Caitlyn had always stilled time. And even now, years later, she could stop Vi’s whole world with nothing but a glance.

Caitlyn Kiramman always stilled time.

******

April 2020

Watching her had become a drug.

Vi kept coming back like some desperate junkie hunting her next fix. It wasn’t a need. It was a compulsion. More suffocating than any drug. And she kept coming back for the hit. Nobody took that many hits to the skull and came out clean. Her mind was cracked in places she hadn’t found names for. Some kind of quiet psycho, maybe. A shadow that meant no harm but couldn’t stop hovering.

She’d thought about talking to her. Once, maybe twice. But even the idea locked her in place. Her mouth turned to dust, her legs to jelly, like she’d just gone twelve rounds in the ring and forgotten how bones were supposed to work

Today, she was at the University. Tucked behind a broad tree, half-hidden by a flow of students pouring out of lectures and a crowd of new students on a tour. She leaned against the bark like it might steady her. Her hoodie was up. Her heartbeat was louder than the conversations around her.

Caitlyn was there, a few steps away, sitting at a wooden table shaded by an arch of green. A thick book opened in front of her. Her posture as straight and poised as Vi remembered. Chin tilted, lashes low, sunlight threading through the leaves and dappling her face like a painting. Even if the sky cracked open above them, Vi knew she wouldn’t look away.

And then someone else sat down.

The woman was short, neat, too sharp around the edges. Confident in that effortless way that made your skin itch. She laughed like she’d been waiting for an entrance. It spilled into the space like broken glass. Boots too clean. A jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder. Short ginger hair pulled back in a perfect knot that spoke of precision, control. She was saying something. Vi couldn’t hear it. She didn’t need to.

The way her hand brushed against Caitlyn’s arm, casual, practiced, was enough.

Not possessive. Not even intimate. Just... natural. Just enough to slice something open in Vi’s chest.

Caitlyn smiled. That smile. The one Vi had tucked into the corners of her memory like an old photograph. Warm. Private. Real.

And Vi’s stomach dropped. She leaned deeper into the shadows.

Her fingers twisted hard into her hoodie. A spike of heat shot through her ribs. Anger or heartbreak, she couldn’t tell. Her jaw tightened until her teeth ached. This woman, this polished, steady, whole person, fit too easily in the picture. Like she belonged in Caitlyn’s world. Like she was her world.

Vi felt feral by comparison. All muscle memory and bruised reflex. A thing that survived, not lived. Too bruised to stand in the same light.

It hit her then, clean and merciless.

She’d known this was a possibility. But she hadn’t been prepared for the knowing, for the sight of it, for the proof. Five years had passed. Half a decade. Caitlyn had moved on. Because of course she had. She was supposed to. And Vi… Vi had barely begun to believe she was still a person.

They had never even been together. Not really. Just a kiss. A moment suspended in time like a dream you wake from with tears in your throat. The kind of almost-love that ruins you more than the real thing. She had never truly hoped. Not really. Their story had ended before it even began. She’d said goodbye already. Etched every word into a letter bought with blood and silence, a deal struck with the devil himself. Paid with a currency only monsters understood.

She'd always known this would be the line. The one she wouldn’t cross. She couldn’t watch. Vi had promised herself she’d never stand in the shadows, watching love bloom on someone else’s skin. She knew it would ruin her. To see Caitlyn laugh like that, touch someone like that. It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was obliteration. And it was an oath she had every reason to keep. And some oaths don’t need repeating. They just live in your bones.  

This had to be the end.

She had no right to ask for anything more.

Knowing she was happy, that she had the life she deserved, had to be enough. That was the shape of Vi’s love. Not possession. Not expectation. Just the aching truth of it, quiet and feral: Caitlyn breathing was enough. Her laughter, somewhere out of reach, was enough. Even if Vi would never hear it again.

Her absence would stay with her. Not like a scar. Scars fade. Like a bullet in the brain. Lodged in too deep to remove. But she could live with it. She had to.

Showing up now would only bleed the past back into her life. It would be a poisoned gift. A wound disguised as closure. Caitlyn had carved something clean out of the wreckage. Vi wouldn’t be the one to stain it.

It was time.

Vi took one last look, just enough to carve the image into her ribs, and then she turned. No dramatics. No tears. Just a single exhale that felt like the last breath of something sacred.

“I’ll carry you. Always. Just not beside me.” she whispered to no one. “Don’t hide. Smile away, gorgeous.” She added, in an echo of the words she’d once sent, scratched in trembling ink, hoping they’d reach her.

She turned away from the love of her life without a second look.

Chapter Text

Vancouver Sleep Clinic

“You were alone, left out in the cold
Clinging to the ruin of your broken home
Too lost and hurting to carry your load
We all need someone to hold

You've been fighting the memory, all on your own
Nothing worsens, nothing grows

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out
Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?
At the end of the day we’re helpless
Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?”

January 2018

The streets were covered in a thin, soiled crust of snow, the kind that turns grey and brittle with exhaust fumes and passing tires. Caitlyn’s heels clicked steadily along the pavement, her breath visible in the air as she made her way toward the café. She hadn’t seen Jayce in seven months. His field research trip to Brazil had stretched longer than expected, and she felt a surprising flicker of anticipation at the thought of him.

She slid into a booth, warm and plush, brushing snow from her coat, scanning the window. He appeared moments later, tanned and beaming, in a worn leather jacket that made him look like some charming rogue out of an old movie. She stood, already smiling.

“Come here, Sprout!” he called, arms open wide.

“Jayce!” she laughed, practically falling into his embrace.

He held her tightly, no hesitation, no pretense. She’d missed that: the ease, the lack of calculation. Just a friend, holding her like she mattered.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said thickly. “God, I’ve missed you, Cait.”

“You too.” Her voice was softer than she expected.

They slid into the booth and ordered coffees, barely glancing at the menus, eyes locked with the ease of old companions. He smelled like salt and sun and something faintly sweet.

“So,” she grinned, leaning forward, “you have to tell me everything. How was Brazil? I want details.”

“If I tell you everything, we’ll be here till sunrise.” He chuckled. “But it was incredible. The food, the beach, the sun...And the ladies,” he added with a teasing grin, eyes sparkling and a waggle of his brows.

“Oh, I’m sure you did just fine in that department,” Caitlyn teased.

“As always. Though in a more… tropical context.”

He spoke of his project, the communities he met, the long nights under impossible stars, the friendships he’d made. She listened, eyes lit with joy for him. It was good to see him happy. After a while, he turned the questions back to her.

He tilted his head. “So, how’s everything here, Professor Kiramman? Work? Life?”

“Good. Busy. I wrote a book.”

“Of course you did.” His eyes lit up. “Let me guess…something brainy and wildly underappreciated?”

“Something like that,” she laughed. “It’s on forgotten women in resistance movements. It did better than I thought. Sold out in a week.”

Jayce whistled. “Damn. Look at you, changing the world one sentence at a time.”

Caitlyn shook her head, but there was pride in her eyes.

“And?” Jayce asked, a little softer. “Maddie?”

She hesitated. “We’re... good. She’s good to me. Thoughtful. Consistent.”

“And?”

“She travels a lot. Her work keeps her all over the place. But in a way, that works for me. It lets me keep my space. And I appreciate the quiet when she’s home.”

Jayce arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

“Not really,” Caitlyn said. “I’ve always needed time to myself. The distance helps me stay grounded. And I do enjoy the reunions.”

He nodded slowly. “And is it… serious?”

Caitlyn looked down at her cup. “It might be. She’d like it to be.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“It’s not that. I’m just…careful. I want to give things the space to become what they’re meant to be. Without forcing it.”

“And… physical stuff?”

Caitlyn’s mouth curved faintly, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “We haven’t gone there yet.”

Jayce’s brow rose. “Six months and not even…?”

“She doesn’t push. I’m grateful for that. I… haven’t felt ready.”

He didn’t laugh. He just leaned in, kind eyes softening. “Cait. You get to move at your pace. Nobody else’s.”

“I know. I just…sometimes I wonder if she wants more than I can give.”

“But you’re happy?”

She didn’t say that sometimes Maddie’s touch still startled her. That even the warmth felt like something she didn’t quite deserve. That there were nights she lay awake, feeling oddly distant inside her own skin.

Her mother adored Maddie. Cassandra beamed when they were together, saw in Maddie the perfect match. Elegant, accomplished, presentable. And Caitlyn had to admit, there was comfort in being someone her mother could finally be proud of. That pride had stitched something back together between them, something she thought had been lost. Their relationship now had warmth, trust, familiarity. She clung to it like a lifeline.

“I’m happy,” she said aloud. And she meant it. Mostly.

She’d survived. She’d built a life. Published a book, kept her name respected, repaired things with her mother. She was standing tall.

It hadn’t come easily. But little by little, she had begun to let Maddie in. Not fully, not recklessly, just enough to feel less hollow. Maddie wanted to take care of her. To hold the broken pieces and try to smooth them into shape. And Caitlyn had let her, because maybe she needed someone who didn’t ask questions. Someone who offered warmth without demanding the truth behind every bruise. And Maddie… seemed content to be that person.

She didn’t look back as often now. She’d found a strength she never knew lived inside her. And somehow, the thought of that strength, unyielding, wild, fierce; brought her back to someone else. Someone who used to wear it like armor, with pink hair and fire in her eyes.

Someone who used to make her feel like a live wire in her own skin.

Someone she never really said goodbye to.

Just a name, buried in the quiet.

And the ghost of a kiss that never quite left her mouth.

******

June 2019

Caitlyn knocked softly, a bottle of red wine in one hand, the other brushing a wrinkle from her fitted black dress. Maddie opened the door almost instantly, her face lighting up.

“Good evening, my love,” she sang, eyes dancing.

“Hey, Maddie.” Caitlyn leaned in for a light kiss on the cheek before stepping into the apartment. “How was your day?”

“Better now.” Maddie grinned.

The living room glowed with candlelight, warm and inviting. Their flames flickered softly against the walls, casting shadows that made the space feel smaller, cozier. Caitlyn caught the scent of jasmine and citrus, Maddie’s favorite blend.

“I ordered sushi,” she said proudly. “Your usual.”

“All this for me?” Caitlyn teased, smiling.

“Only the best for my favorite girl.”

They curled up on the couch, wine poured, takeout containers spread between them. Caitlyn spoke about her new part-time position at the museum, how she was adjusting, what fascinated her. Maddie listened with her chin in her hand, smiling like she couldn’t imagine a better way to spend her evening.

Caitlyn liked Maddie’s company. She’d grown used to it. Used to the way Maddie folded into her life without overwhelming it. There was something soothing about her presence. She was easy to be around.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” Maddie said, her tone lighter than her eyes. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Caitlyn turned to her. “Okay. Shoot.”

“I want more time with you,” Maddie said quietly. “I love what we have. And I’ve started cutting back on travel. I want to be here. With you. And… well, we’ve been together for two years now. I think it’s time for the next step.”

Caitlyn felt her chest tighten.

“What kind of step?” she asked carefully, though she already knew.

Maddie took a deep breath. “I want you to move in with me. I want to come home to you. Wake up next to you. Build something real.” She rushed the words out like they were fragile and might shatter if held too long.

Caitlyn remained silent. Her mouth opened, once, twice, then closed again. Words refused to form. Her pupils were dilated, her breath shallow, and a quiet, creeping pressure began to bloom in her chest. Panic, not loud but persistent, like a tide lapping steadily at her ribs.

She didn’t know if she wanted that. Not really. Not now.

Since she and Maddie had become intimate, she’d spent more nights in her bed than her own. The first few had been awkward. Touches that startled more than soothed, closeness that felt like too much skin, too little space. Even sex, when it had come, felt like walking into a room she wasn’t sure she had permission to enter. But Maddie had been gentle. Patient. And over time, things had settled. Now, it was easy. Comfortable. Predictable. Safe.

It wasn’t just a new key or a different pillow. It was a shift. A surrender. And somewhere deep down, Caitlyn feared it would turn into confinement.

A cage, no matter how warm the light inside, was still a cage. Even if the bars were gold. Even if the walls smelled like jasmine and safety. She’d learned that lesson early. That comfort could be a kind of trap. That stability could feel like stillness.

Maddie cleared her throat softly, the silence stretching between them like a thread too tight.

“Caitlyn… please say something,” she whispered.

Caitlyn blinked, startled out of her spiral. “I—I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know what to say.” She gave a small, brittle laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re probably right. I mean, we’ve known each other long enough… It would make sense.”

“That’s not exactly the glowing yes I was hoping for,” Maddie said, trying to laugh, but her voice faltered.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Caitlyn said quickly. “It’s not you. I’m just... I’m happy with the way things are. But I will think about it. I just need some time. To process.”

Her voice trembled slightly at the end, and she tried to cover it with a smile. “You know me… classic overthinker.”

Maddie nodded, her eyes soft but uncertain. “Of course. I don’t want to pressure you. I just… I guess I hoped you’d be sure. The way I am.”

“I am sure,” Caitlyn said, and for once, the words felt like both truth and a shield. “I’m sure about us. I know we work. I just need a few days. That’s all.”

“Take all the time you need.” Maddie’s smile returned, even if her eyes had dimmed just slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Caitlyn believed her.

She reached for her glass and took a slow sip of wine, hoping the warmth in her throat might drown the flicker of unease in her chest.

It didn’t.

******

April 2020

It had been a quiet day so far. A timid sun filtered through the canopy of tall trees above Caitlyn’s head, scattering warm light across the benches and grass. She watched the crowd of first-year students chattering nearby. Nervous energy radiating from them like static, their bright voices layered with excitement, apprehension, hope.

She smiled faintly, taking in their buzz. There was something comforting about their certainty that everything was just beginning.

Tilting her face to the sky, she closed her eyes and drew in a long, measured breath. The air was cool, the breeze soft against her skin. It was peaceful. She’d attended a conference that morning, worked through notes for her next paper. It was shaping up to be a good day.

She returned to her book, dense, annotated, familiar; and fell into its pages. Reading had always been a kind of grounding. A way of disappearing while still appearing composed.

And then, it came. That strange sensation. A tingle at the base of her neck. Goosebumps crawling across her arms like a phantom touch. The sense of being watched. Not by someone, but by something she couldn’t name. A presence, almost. A magnetic pull that had no direction.

She looked up instinctively. The quad was unchanged. Still the same shuffling crowd. Still sunlight through branches. Still laughter and distant footsteps. She shook her head and returned to the text.

A moment later, she heard the rhythm of boots on gravel, then grass. Maddie. Caitlyn could recognize her by sound now.

“Reading for pleasure, I see,” Maddie said with a teasing grin as she sat beside her.

“Oh, this?” Caitlyn lifted the heavy volume with one hand. “Just for shoulder training. Makes the commute feel like a workout.”

They laughed together, easy and warm.

And then—something caught her eye.

A flash of color. Pink, just beneath a black hood. Broad shoulders. A figure slipping away from the crowd, purposeful, distant.

Caitlyn’s breath caught. She blinked. Once. Twice. And by the time she looked again, the space between the trees was empty. The person was gone.

Her heart beat too loudly. She told herself it was a trick of the light. Fatigue, maybe. A shadow misread. That was the only explanation.

Because Vi…Vi wasn’t real anymore.

She hadn’t seen her in five years. Not since the silence began. She thought of her often. More than she’d admit. When she passed the bakery with the dry brownies. When certain Nina Simone songs came on the radio and made her throat close. New Year’s. The flu. Laughter in a hallway. All of it reminded her.

Vi had never really left her.

Violet Lane had vanished. Just like that. No trail, no closure. It was irreversible. Final in a way that felt more like death than absence. Insurmountable, like a sheer wall a hundred feet high, bare and slick with the kind of silence that never echoes back. Like a canyon too wide to call across, too deep to climb out of. Caitlyn had been forced to make peace with it. Not by choice, but by necessity. To survive. To keep moving. So she had. She’d let go. That’s what Vi had asked of her. That’s what Vi had made her do.

She’d never told Maddie. She never talked about Vi to anyone. Not even her mother, who had likely assumed it had ended as abruptly as it began. Perhaps, in some ways, it had. It was Cassandra, after all, who had made it clear that Vi couldn’t stay. That she was meant to be “temporary”.

So Caitlyn buried her. Like a secret. Like a burn you learn to stop touching.

Whatever she saw just now…it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

But her body didn’t believe that. Her pulse hadn’t slowed. Her breath felt shallow. Her imagination had never conjured something so vivid, so tangible. It had barely lasted a second. A flicker, a bolt splitting the air like lightning tearing the sky apart. But it left its mark, bright and burning, like the afterimage of it behind her eyelids.

“Cait?” Maddie’s voice cut through the fog. “You alright?”

Caitlyn blinked, startled again. “Yeah. Fine,” she said, shaking her head with a forced smile. “I just… zoned out for a second.”

“You sure?” Maddie asked, concern shadowing her voice.

“Absolutely.” Caitlyn tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She smiled again, reassuring. Polished. Practiced.

By tomorrow, she told herself, she’d forget all about it.

******

May 2020

That was without reckoning with Caitlyn’s obsessive curiosity.

Caitlyn had tried to forget. She told herself it had been a trick of the light, a stray thought, a phantom caught in the corner of her eye. But her mind wouldn’t let it go. It felt just like back then. Like when Vi had taken root in her mind and refused to be forgotten. Only now, the ache came with a question so cruel, she couldn’t bear to say it aloud. Not even to herself. A question worse than the vision itself.

If Vi was alive…if she really had come back, why wouldn’t she come back to her?

That thought scratched at her like a splinter under the skin. Small, but impossible to ignore.

She found herself scanning crowds, pausing mid-step to glance over her shoulder, looking twice at strangers in hoodies. Maddie had started to notice. Asked if she was distracted. Tired. Lost in her research again. She didn’t have the words to explain the kind of ache that didn’t belong to the present.

What gnawed at her most wasn’t just absence. It was being watched and left behind.

It left her raw. Furious, almost. As if Vi’s absence had returned to stake its claim again, crawling back into the hollow space Caitlyn had worked so hard to seal shut.

She needed answers. Otherwise, her mind would just keep spinning in circles, chewing itself to pieces.

And so, one morning, after pacing for nearly an hour, she pulled out her phone. Searched her contacts. Her thumb hovered over a name she hadn’t dared look at in years.

Powder.

She’d never deleted it. She didn’t know why. Maybe because erasing it would’ve felt like erasing Vi altogether. Like closing the last door to a world that once burned so brightly it had lit up everything.

She hit call.

One ring. Her breath caught. Two rings. Her fingers trembled. Three—

“Hello?” Powder’s voice burst through the speaker. Caitlyn’s knees almost gave out.

“Powder?” she said, her voice a note too high.

A pause.

“Who’s asking?”

“It’s… Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman.”

Silence. Heavy. Stretching.

“Powder? Can you hear me?”

“…Yeah. I hear you.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn blurted. “I know it’s been a long time.”

“A long-ass time,” Powder said, her voice unreadable. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. I mean… I’m okay. And you?”

“Like a damn charm.” A beat. “So. What do you want, Kiramman?”

Caitlyn swallowed hard. “I was hoping we could talk. In person.”

“I see…” Powder’s tone didn’t shift.

“I know it’s sudden, and probably weird after all this time—”

“Hmm…” she interrupted with a hum. Then, casually: “Last Drop. Tonight. 8?”

Caitlyn exhaled, the relief crashing into her like a wave.

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No trouble.” A click of a lighter in the background, maybe. “See you then.”

The line went dead.

******

When Maddie came home that evening, Caitlyn was standing in the bathroom, eyeliner poised in one hand, her other gripping the edge of the sink like a lifeline. Her reflection looked far too composed for the way her chest felt. Tight, fluttering, caught in the grip of something between dread and determination.

“Hey babe,” Maddie called from the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You heading out?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said, steadying her voice. “I won’t be home late.”

“Drinks with Jayce? Or Mel?” Maddie smiled, teasing. “Or both, if you’re feeling wild.”

“Actually, no.” Caitlyn cleared her throat and capped the eyeliner. “I ran into an old friend on campus. We’re grabbing a drink. Just catching up.”

She hated lying. But this wasn’t quite a lie. Just a necessary omission. She couldn’t explain it. Wouldn’t. It was one night. She would meet Powder, get answers, and come home. Then… she’d move on. Like she always had. Like she’d taught herself to.

“Someone I know?” Maddie asked, trying for lightness, but there was already tension in her voice.

“No,” Caitlyn replied, sharper than intended. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

That clipped tone was meant to close the door. Instead, it cracked something else open.

Maddie hesitated, her expression dimming. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Well… have a good night.”

She disappeared down the hallway, the weight of her disappointment trailing behind her like perfume.

Caitlyn exhaled. She’d come home tonight to a quiet apartment and a louder silence. Maddie would be curled up on the couch, waiting for an explanation Caitlyn wouldn’t give. And it would pass. It always did.

Because Maddie, for all her warmth and gentleness, could be possessive in small, deliberate ways. She didn’t like secrets. Didn’t like locked doors, even metaphorical ones. She wanted to be let in, to everything. And Caitlyn? Caitlyn had drawn her borders in invisible ink. Some things belonged only to her. It was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of love. And Maddie, so far, had chosen to take it. The fights came in waves. Never violent or cruel, just… bruising in their own way. Maddie would say Caitlyn was too closed off, too distant. That she didn’t say what she felt. That she didn’t show it enough.

And it was true. Caitlyn was never the first to say I love you. Maddie said it often, easily. Caitlyn would reply me too with a quiet smile, or on rare nights, when the stars aligned just right, she would whisper I love you too, soft as silk.

But she struggled to offer more. Not because she didn’t care. Because she did. Just in a way that didn’t fit the shape Maddie wanted. Her affection came in subtle things: a note left on the counter, a hand brushed in passing, a book chosen carefully. And sometimes, it didn’t come at all. Sometimes it just lived inside her. She couldn’t let herself admit it—not fully—that her freedom still mattered more than almost anything. And that included Maddie. A part of her knew. Had always known. But she buried it deep, shoved it down where the light couldn’t reach. Because if she let that truth surface… what kind of person did that make her?

She did love Maddie. But over time, she’d come to understand that there were different kinds of love. Maybe as many as there were people in the world. She loved the calm Maddie brought to her life. The ease. The way she didn’t have to perform around her. The way her mother adored her.

But more than anything, Caitlyn loved the way Maddie loved her.

******

The Last Drop hadn’t changed a bit.

Same neon flicker above the door. Same buzz of warm chatter and clinking glass. Same cracked leather booths she remembered pressing her palms against five years ago, trying not to shake. There was comfort in seeing how some places held still, no matter how many years tried to move them.

She lingered outside a second too long. For a moment, just one, her mind conjured an image so vivid it stole her breath. Vi, leaning against the doorframe. That crooked, impossible smile she used to wear only for her. The warmth of her hands, rough and grounding. Caitlyn’s skin remembered the shape of her arms before her mind could catch up. She blinked it away, swallowed it down, and pushed the door open.

The smell hit her first. A memory. Wood smoke, old beer, something vaguely citrus in the cleaning fluid. Her eyes scanned the room.

There, Powder. Sitting at a booth near the back, flanked by Ekko and Mylo. She had grown into a striking woman. Radiant in that untamed, unmistakable way. Her blue hair was twisted into two messy buns.

Caitlyn hadn’t expected the others. But seeing them steadied something in her. She crossed the floor and forced a smile to her lips.

“Good evening, Powder. Ekko. Mylo.”

“Hey, Cait!” Mylo greeted with a lazy grin.

“Good to see you,” Ekko offered her a quiet, charming smile. He too had changed, grown into his features, into his confidence. There was something solid about him now, grounded. Like a boy who’d seen enough to know how to carry it well.

“Have a seat, Kiramman,” Powder said, not unkindly.

“Thank you.” She slid into the chair across from them. “I must say, it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Ekko gave a quiet nod. Powder tilted her head, appraising.

“Never thought I’d see your pretty face again,” Powder said dryly.

“I know.” Caitlyn looked down briefly, her voice low.

“What’ll you have?” Ekko offered.

“A Coke, please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

As he left, Powder leaned in. “So how’s our favorite historian doing?”

“I’ve been well. Still working, writing. I suppose you’ve been busy too.”

“Powder’s never not working,” Ekko replied, returning with her drink.

“Thanks, Ekko. That’s very kind.” She offered him a grateful smile.

“My man is the nicest dumbass in the county,” Powder teased. Ekko stuck out his tongue, and Caitlyn laughed, despite herself.

“So… you two are a thing now?” she asked, gesturing between them.

“Being around these two for more than an hour is actual hell,” Mylo deadpanned.

“Jealous moron,” Powder muttered, and Ekko kissed her cheek. She turned beet red.

Caitlyn laughed again, softer this time. Some things really didn’t change.

But then Powder’s expression shifted…more serious, guarded.

“So. Let’s cut the crap. What did you want to talk about?”

Caitlyn hesitated. “I—I don’t want to stir anything. I just… I saw someone, and I think it was Vi. Just for a second. On campus. And then she was gone. I know it sounds crazy, I know she—she’s not…”

Her voice caught. Her hands tightened around the Coke glass.

“Right?” she added weakly, eyes searching their faces.

The three exchanged a glance. It was quiet. Too quiet.

“Right?” she repeated.

“We thought this might happen,” Powder said eventually, sighing. “We talked about it. About what to say. About what not to say.”

Caitlyn’s heart dropped. Her throat tightened.

“What are you talking about?”

“Vi’s back.” The words came out on an exhale. Gentle. Apologetic.

It landed like a stone in her chest. It took a moment for the words to settle. Caitlyn’s eyes flicked from face to face, searching for the crack in the silence. Some trace of a joke, a smirk, a break in the tension that would tell her this was all just some cruel misunderstanding. But no one laughed. No one moved. Only three solemn expressions stared back at her, too still, too sincere. And that’s when she knew. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

“Vi’s back,” she echoed, stunned. Her voice sounded far away. Unrecognizable.

No. No, that couldn’t be. She was gone. She had written her a goodbye. A final, searing goodbye. Caitlyn had mourned her. Buried her, as surely as if she’d lowered a casket. This wasn’t possible.

“What happened?” she asked faintly.

“Silco died,” Mylo said. “And when we didn’t hear from Vi after that, we just assumed… you know. That she didn’t make it either. We figured the sick bastard had a dead-man’s switch with her name on it. If he kicked the bucket, she was next.”

 “Turns out, he hadn’t. And Vi just... showed up at our doorstep one day. Took me a whole minute to make sure I hadn’t dropped acid by mistake.” Ekko chuckled softly at the memory.

It felt like a blow to the head, sudden, disorienting, unreal. Caitlyn’s lungs felt too tight. Her fingers were going numb. She rubbed her palms together under the table, trying to stay grounded. Trying not to fall apart in public.

“Where was she?” she whispered.

“We can’t say,” Powder replied. Her voice was firm. Gentle, but firm.

“What? Why not?”

Powder exchanged a glance with Ekko and Mylo again. Their expressions turned guarded.

“We agreed. Some things, she has to be the one to tell you. Or not tell you. It’s her story. Her choice.”

“But when? When did she come back?”

“Can’t say.”

“Why didn’t she come to me?”

“Can’t say.”

Caitlyn let out a broken, frustrated sound. “God. Fuck.”

“Sorry,” Powder murmured.

She shut her eyes tight, took three slow, measured breaths.

“Where is she now?”

Powder’s eyes lit up. “That, I can tell you.”

Caitlyn laughed. Loud, sudden. It cracked out of her like a burst dam. A raw, gasping kind of laughter, sharp and unsteady. She didn’t know what else to do with it. It wasn’t joy. It was release. And grief. And something she couldn’t name that had been buried too long.

They let her laugh. No one judged her. They had been here, too, at the edge of disbelief. When she finally stopped, she wiped at her eyes, still dazed.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Been there, sister,” Powder muttered.

“So? Where is she?”

“I’ll text you the address. It’s not nearby.”

Caitlyn nodded, her voice suddenly quiet. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“Come on. Do you really believe that?” Powder’s gaze held hers.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Powder paused, then said, “Trust your gut.”

******

June 2020

Caitlyn held her phone in a trembling hand, eyes fixed on the address Powder had sent her three weeks ago. She’d read it a hundred times, maybe more. Like the words might one day solidify, leap off the screen, and drag her there themselves. Tell her what to do. What to feel.

They never did. And so, she just... thought. Again, and again, and again.

She couldn’t focus. Food tasted like cardboard. Sleep had become a luxury she no longer possessed. She used to sleep like stone. Storms and sirens wouldn’t wake her. Now she twisted in bed, tangled in her own sheets and spiraling thoughts. Maddie had noticed. She said Caitlyn seemed burned out. Caitlyn didn’t correct her. She told her she was taking time off. Stepping back from work. That part, at least, was true.

That morning, Maddie had left for a four-day trip to Montreal, suitcase in hand, her tone light and casual. She was meeting with a client, a big tech firm, some complicated transaction Caitlyn didn’t bother to feign interest in.

“I’ll call when I land?” Maddie asked, pausing at the door.

“Sure. Have a safe flight.” Caitlyn offered a smile, but it barely reached the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Me too.”

The second the door clicked shut, Caitlyn exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath for days. She wandered into the bathroom, took a long, scalding shower, then sat on the couch with damp hair and a blanket thrown over her shoulders. She tried to nap. Failed.

Her phone was in her hand again. The address was still there. Waiting. Heavy. Inevitable.

Her resolve cracked like ice underfoot. She wanted to see Violet. Desperately. Stupidly. And she was terrified. What could she possibly say? After five years of silence thick as lead? She didn’t even know who Vi was now. What she’d endured. What parts of her had survived, or changed beyond recognition. What pieces of her had broken for good.

But the questions were louder than the fear now. Gnawing at her, clawing from the inside. She couldn’t carry this silence anymore. She couldn’t breathe with it wrapped around her throat.

Without letting herself think twice, she shot up from the couch and went to get dressed. She reached for a pair of tight black pants, a navy turtleneck. Pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, the strands framing her face with instinctual precision.

She opened the drawer to grab her earrings, but her hand hesitated. Her fingers hovered for a second, then reached farther back, to the box she hadn’t touched in years.

It was tucked beneath an old scarf, out of sight — the small wooden box with no lock, but heavy with what it held. She placed it gently on the dresser. Her breath caught as she lifted the lid.

Inside, everything was just as she left it.

A folded ribbon. A pressed flower. A small, rusted bolt. Vi had flicked it at her one night, in her garage. She’d caught it in midair, surprised, amused. “You never know when you’ll need to fix something,” Vi had said with a lopsided grin. “Or someone.” Caitlyn had kept it. For no reason, and for all of them.

And there, beneath it all, the Polaroid.

She hadn’t seen it in years. Had tucked it away in the dark, right after the letter arrived. Like it burned to look at. Like it might shatter her if she let it stay in the light for too long. She held it delicately between two fingers now, as if the image could still break.

Vi, caught mid-laugh, head tilted, eyes glinting with something soft and bright. Her hair a mess of pink, one lock falling across her brow. The lights from the Christmas tree behind her blurred into a soft glow.

There was something cruel in how clearly the image had survived. How it had held onto that moment with perfect precision while Caitlyn had spent the last five years trying not to drown in the ache it left behind. She hadn’t been able to throw it away. Even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt. She let herself feel it now. The throb that lived just under her breastbone. The weight of five years’ worth of questions. The longing she’d hidden even from herself. The desperate ache for something that had no name anymore.

She slipped the photo into the inside pocket of her coat.

Only when she passed the hallway mirror did she realize it. She looked exactly like the day she’d met her. She hadn’t even meant to.

Her pulse quickened. But she didn’t stop. She grabbed her keys and coat, and within seconds, she was in the car, heart pounding against her ribs like a warning. She entered the address in her GPS. An hour and a half. That was all it would take.

Too long to avoid thinking. Too short to stop. She turned the key in the ignition, tightened her grip on the wheel. And shut down her brain.

******

She drove through the countryside, letting her gaze drift across the endless green. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, flickering across the road in broken gold. She kept her hands steady on the wheel, but her mind… her mind was far behind her, circling an old memory like a vulture over bones.

She remembered Vi’s voice, half a whisper under the stars, a lifetime ago.

“Maybe I’ll have a little house in the countryside. Just below the mountains. A garage big enough to work on bikes, old cars. Nothing fancy. Just enough to live.”

A pause, then a grin, teasing but soft.

“You’d come visit me when you got tired of the city. We’d ride. Walk in the forest. Maybe swim naked in a lake at midnight or something.”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw. Not now. Don’t start crying now.

She pushed the memory aside, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. Her GPS guided her down a smaller path, narrower, edged with dense forest. Pines arched over the gravel road like silent sentries.

And then she was there.

The car crunched to a stop in front of the house, and Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. It was exactly as Vi had once imagined.

The lake stretched out like glass, smooth and untouched. The forest loomed behind it, wild and dark and endless. Mountains framed the horizon, their snowy peaks piercing the sky. The house itself was large but quiet in its presence, fresh white paint on the walls, soft blue shutters like open eyes in sunlight. There was a calmness here that didn’t feel like peace. It felt like a held breath.

On the left stood a massive workshop, its doors open, revealing shadow and shape within. Somewhere inside, something scraped softly, a sound sharp enough to twist in her stomach. That was where she was. She knew it in her bones.

Caitlyn stepped out of the car. The door clicked shut behind her, but it sounded distant, muted. Her boots crunched on the gravel. She felt it before she moved. A pull, low and magnetic, like the gravity in her legs had shifted, drawing her forward without permission. Toward the sound. Toward the workshop.

The air felt heavier with each step, as though the silence itself was thickening, bracing for something inevitable. Only a few strides.

Then—

Footsteps. Steady. Approaching.

Caitlyn stopped cold.

The sound grew louder, closer, boots on concrete, a familiar rhythm rising from the belly of the space. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. The world around her shrank to that sound alone.

Someone approached from the shadows, wiping hands on a black sleeveless shirt, cargo shorts sitting low on strong hips. Her steps were slow, steady. Her head still down. Unaware.

And Caitlyn forgot how to breathe.

The woman lifted her head…and her eyes widened. Not just with surprise, but something deeper. Something primal. Recognition colliding with disbelief.

She froze.

Completely motionless. A statue carved from stillness and raw shock, her mouth parted slightly, as if the air had been knocked clean out of her lungs.

The silence that followed wasn’t just silence. It was the sound of time stalling, of everything else falling away but the space between them.

Her hair was different, buzzed close on the left, but longer now on the right, deep pink veering toward crimson, two strands sweeping low over her eye. The rest curled near her collarbone, slightly unkempt, as if it hadn’t been cut in a while.

She was… bigger. Stronger. Her body was solid now, hard-edged. Broad shoulders, defined arms. Tattoos inked her skin like armor. Black and intricate, curling up her arms, vanishing into the collar of her shirt, threading beneath her jawline. Caitlyn’s eyes caught on the movement of a gear tattooed on the side of her neck. It seemed to shift slightly with the rhythm of her breath. Another mark lined her cheekbone. New scars. Everywhere.

But her eyes… God, her eyes.

That same impossible shade of luminous blue. Clear, piercing, almost translucent in the daylight. Like back then. Like always. And yet now, there was something else. A shadow nestled behind the light. Something quieter. Somber. As if some part of her, something buried too deep to name, was still lost in a place no one could reach. Uncertainty flickered across her gaze, soft but sharp. Like she couldn’t quite believe Caitlyn was real. Like she didn’t dare to.

But it was her. Every inch of her. Changed, weathered, scarred. And still unmistakably, undeniably Vi.

She stared. Her lips parted slightly. Her hands stilled against the fabric of her shirt. She didn’t blink.

Neither did Caitlyn. It felt like time folded inward. Like the air itself held still.

It was her.

Caitlyn opened her mouth. Nothing came. She could only stare at her. Frozen, breath locked tight in her chest, like someone witnessing a miracle. Or a disaster. She wasn’t sure which. Because it felt like both.

Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, took a step forward.

“Vi?” she breathed. Just one syllable. Already cracked.

Vi didn’t respond. Didn’t move. She just stared.

“Violet…” she tried again. Her voice was steadier now, but it trembled at the edges.

Still nothing. Just a shaky exhale from Vi’s lungs, and the visible clench of her jaw and her fist.

“I… your sister gave me your address and I…” Caitlyn’s breath hitched. She couldn’t finish.

Words crowded her mouth, frantic and half-formed, but none of them made it past her lips. They pressed against her windpipe like hands. It felt like trying to speak underwater. With lungs full of stone.

Vi didn’t speak. Her gaze was unbearable. It was like looking into a wound that hadn’t closed. It was so intense... Caitlyn’s knees gave slightly beneath her. She blinked, heart pounding against her ribs.

“I just… I wanted to see you.” The sentence dragged itself from her throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

No answer. Not even a flinch. Just that burning silence, thick and heavy, stretched like wire between them.

“Do you…” Caitlyn’s voice broke. “Do you want me to go?”

She had said the words, but made no move to go. She couldn’t. Her boots were rooted to the gravel like they’d grown there, forged in place by the years of longing and the weight of everything unspoken. Her heart pounded like a warning, but her body refused to obey.

Vi didn’t move. Not an inch.

She stood like the eye of a storm, unnaturally still while everything inside Caitlyn howled and spun. There was something terrifying about her silence.

Caitlyn began to wonder if she’d made a terrible mistake. If this silence wasn’t awe, but rejection. If the Vi she once knew had been buried somewhere no voice could reach.

But then—

Vi moved.

So slowly it was almost painful. Step by step, like something brittle shifting beneath too much weight. She stopped just in front of her. Close enough to touch. Close enough to inhale the scent of metal and sun-warmed cotton and oil and something that was just her.

Vi’s gaze roamed her face like a blind woman relearning light; eyes, lips, hairline, eyes again. She lifted a hand, hesitated. Dropped it. Then slowly rose it again.

Caitlyn felt the back of Vi’s fingers graze her cheekbone. Rough, calloused, impossibly warm. They moved slowly, reverently, tracing the edge of her ear, the curve of her jaw, the softness of her lips.

Each touch burned, like memory made flesh. Caitlyn was panting, like she’d sprinted the entire way here. Like her lungs were too small to hold everything surging inside her. She couldn’t name it. Any of it. Grief. Relief. Terror. Longing. All of it coiled and bloomed in her chest at once, sharp and radiant and unbearable.

She closed her eyes, helpless under the weight of it. And still, Vi’s touch lingered...featherlight, steady. As if she was trying to learn her again by fingertip. As if touch was the only language left between them.

Vi’s palm rested on her cheek, fingers curling softly beneath her ear, disappearing into the base of her ponytail, thumb swiping along the edge of her face. She was shaking. So was Caitlyn.

Her thumb brushed a tear without hesitation. Like she’d done it a thousand times. Like wiping Caitlyn’s sorrow from her face was instinct, not memory. Caitlyn hadn’t even noticed it falling. Hadn’t realized she was crying until Vi’s thumb swept it away with unbearable gentleness. Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked slowly, lashes damp. Vi was still there. Still close. Still watching her.

With the same burning intensity.

Those seconds lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

Endlessly.

******

Time had stopped.

And then, with no warning, no sound; they were in each other’s arms.

Not gently. Not carefully. Desperately.

Vi pulled her in like she might disappear again. Her fingers gripped Caitlyn’s back, clenching tight in the fabric of her top, burying her face in the crook of her neck. As if that space had always belonged to her.

Caitlyn folded into her just as fiercely. One hand slipped into Vi’s hair, tangled at the nape of her neck. The other pressed firm against her back, the way one might hold someone falling off a ledge.

Her cheek rested on Vi’s temple. Her eyes closed.

“You’re here,” Caitlyn whispered into her hair. The scent hit her all at once. Earthy. Metallic. Sharp and soft at once. The scent of rain on pavement. The scent of Vi.

“And you’re here,” Vi murmured back, voice muffled, voice real. Finally.

Caitlyn laughed. A sound that cracked at the edges from too many years of holding it in.

“I am,” she breathed. A truth, simple and sacred. She smiled before she even realized it.

They stayed like that. Entwined. A knot of limbs and warmth and trembling breath, until the air settled and the weight of each other became something they could finally bear.

When they parted—slowly, reluctantly—Caitlyn didn’t pull back far. Her eyes found the tattoo below Vi’s right eye. Two vertical lines. Framing the Roman numeral: VI.

A claim. A name. A mark of survival. A scar that told the world who she’d fought to remain. Caitlyn lifted a hand and ran her thumb over it. Vi didn’t flinch.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Vi’s voice was quieter now. Slightly strained, like it had rusted from disuse.

“Sure,” Caitlyn said.

She followed her into the house, boots echoing against the wood. The inside was clean, sparse, functional. But lived-in. There were touches, small ones, that spoke of time spent healing. A jacket hung just so. A half-read book by the window. A cup on the sink, rinsed and turned upside down.

Vi gestured toward the kitchen island. Caitlyn sat.

“You like coffee now?” Caitlyn teased, watching her friend fiddle with the machine.

Vi let out a low chuckle, shaking her head.

“Not even a little. This is for guests.”

A beat.

“You get a lot of guests?” Caitlyn asked gently.

Vi shrugged. “Not really.”

She turned and handed her a mug.

“Want to sit outside?”

“I’ll follow you.”

They stepped onto the porch. Two cushioned chairs. A small white table between them. The sunlight had grown warmer now, brushing against their skin like a benediction. She never thought she’d sit across from Vi again. Not like this. Not in the quiet of morning light and coffee steam.

Caitlyn sipped the coffee, watching as Vi lit a cigarette.

“You smoke now?”

“Not really.” Vi exhaled, smoke curling in the air like a secret. “Just… on occasions.”

“What kind of occasions?”

“When I can’t sleep. When I’m nervous.”

Caitlyn tilted her head.

“Are you nervous now?”

Vi looked at her. That look that saw too much.

“I wasn’t really expecting to see you in my front yard today, Cait.”

“Sorry about that,” she murmured into her mug, a sheepish smile touching her lips. “It’s a terrible habit, though.”

Vi gasped in mock horror. “Is it? Shit, I’ll quit immediately.”

That crooked smile bloomed again. Caitlyn’s stomach flipped.

“You can finish that one,” Caitlyn said, unable to hide her grin. “I’ll allow it.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Vi muttered, eyes twinkling.

They both laughed, quiet, real, unguarded. It felt like coming home after a long, tiring day. The air between them finally softened.

“This place is amazing,” Caitlyn said, her gaze sweeping over the lake, the forest, the peaks in the distance.

“Yeah.”

“How did you end up here?”

Vi paused, flicked ash off the edge of the porch. “Silco left it to Powder. She didn’t want it. So… here I am.”

Caitlyn blinked, caught off guard. “He left her a place like this?”

“He left her a lot of things. Most of which she’d rather burn. But this…this felt… different.”

“It’s beautiful,” Caitlyn said sincerely.

“It wasn’t, at first. Took a lot of work. Paint. Repairs. Furniture. It’s getting there.” Her gaze slid to the house, like she was still unsure it deserved her.

“Will you give me a tour?”

Vi held her gaze for a long time, like she was weighing something fragile in her hands. Like she didn’t know if she had the right to say yes. Then she nodded once.

“Sure.” Vi said, quiet but certain.

The place was spacious. Some rooms were still worn down, filled with outdated furniture.

“I haven’t had time to get to them yet,” Vi explained as she led her up the stairs. “I started with the most important ones. I’ll just keep going from there.”

They reached the upper floor, and Vi pushed open a heavy door. Inside was a library. A true one. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall, brimming with all kinds of books. Old bindings, new spines, some organized, others stacked haphazardly.

“This was actually Silco’s,” Vi said, her voice softer, almost reverent. “I had to fix a few shelves. Wood doesn’t hold well with the humidity around here.”

Caitlyn slowly turned on herself, taking in the space like it might vanish if she blinked.

“This is incredible,” she whispered, awe thick in her voice.

“Yeah,” Vi said, almost to herself. “It’s one of my favorite places here.”

They walked on. Vi stopped in front of another door.

“This is mine. Pretty basic.”

The bedroom was filled with light. Simple, clean. A bed, a small dresser, not much more. But the view through the window made Caitlyn stop.

“You chose it for the sunrise,” she said softly, not a question.

Vi nodded, looking out.

“Yeah. It rises right there, over the lake.” She pointed. “Waking up with the sun is...something else.” Her expression tightened with the weight of memories Caitlyn could only imagine the edges of. As if the light itself reminded her of darker days.

Then, her gaze caught on something. A book on the bedside table. She froze.

Vi noticed. She moved quickly, like she might guide her out of the room, steer her attention elsewhere.

“Come on, I’ll show you the workshop—”

But it was too late. Caitlyn had already stepped closer, drawn in by a force she couldn’t name. Her eyes locked on the title. Silent Resistance: Forgotten Women of Social Uprisings.

She picked it up carefully, almost reverently.

“That’s... my book,” she murmured. Her voice felt too loud in the small room.

Vi said nothing. Caitlyn turned to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her jaw tight. She wasn’t meeting her gaze.

“You read it?” Caitlyn asked, half breathless.

Vi finally looked at her. “Course I did.”

Caitlyn’s fingers slipped into the pages, and she stopped when she saw the underlined passage. She read aloud.

“They called them forgotten. But forgetting implies someone once remembered. They were not forgotten. They were erased. Systematically, deliberately, thoroughly. Some fought with words, others with silence. Some endured hunger. Some endured years of walls closing in. Not all had causes with names, banners, or leaders. Some simply refused to die quietly. What history cannot record, it buries in metaphors. It calls them “ghosts,” “lost,” “unknown.” But they were real. And they were angry. Resistance is not always loud. Sometimes, it is the decision to keep breathing in a room designed to kill you. And that breath, however shallow, however broken — was a scream history did not want to hear”

“I loved that part,” Vi said. It was so soft, Caitlyn almost missed it.

“It was mostly about Claudia Jones…” she offered, her voice trembling slightly.

“I know,” Vi nodded. Then, without pause, she recited:

“She spent her life silenced: first by illness, then by state surveillance, and finally by exile. Jailed for her beliefs, deported for her words, and mourned only by those whose voices carried no weight.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. “You memorized it?”

Vi shrugged lightly. “I read it a couple times.” A pause. “It’s a great book, Caitlyn. I always knew you’d be brilliant. It’s just nice seeing the proof on paper. I like being right.”

She smiled, like it was nothing. As if her words weren’t undoing her, right there, stitch by invisible stitch. As if they hadn’t carved something permanent into Caitlyn’s skin, soft as breath, sharp as truth. As if she could be anything but overwhelmed by the rawness of it all. The unfiltered pride. The impossible tenderness. The quiet, aching sincerity. It crashed into her like a wave she hadn’t seen coming, fierce, all-encompassing. A wave made of time, of silence, of memory. And it left her standing there, undone. Full. There was no sentence, no syllable, no human shape of sound that could carry what she felt for the woman in front of her.

Caitlyn’s mouth opened, but nothing came. She could only look at her. Feel her throat close around the words that would never be enough.

Vi glanced at her, then looked away again. “You… you must be starving. I could make you something, if you want?”

Caitlyn nodded quickly, swallowed down the lump in her throat. “That’d be perfect,” she whispered.

They went back downstairs. Vi moved in the kitchen with easy confidence, opening cupboards, pulling out ingredients. Caitlyn sat on a stool at the center island, chin in her hand. And for the first time in a long time, something inside her exhaled. Vi cooked. Caitlyn talked. About work, about lectures, about the museum. About her latest paper. Vi asked questions. Always specific, always sincere. She stirred the pot while Caitlyn rambled, and when she didn’t speak, her silence said more than most people’s words. The scent of food rose slowly between them. The sun dipped lower across the lake.

And just for a while, it was like the years had been paper. And someone was gently smoothing out every crease.

They were facing each other, finishing their meals, when Caitlyn finally found the courage to ask.

“What about you…?” Caitlyn asked hesitantly, her fingers curling around the rim of her glass.

Vi looked up, frowning gently. “What about me?”

“Your life, these past few years…” Caitlyn’s voice trailed off. It felt like asking about a war she hadn’t been allowed to witness.

Vi looked down at her fork, turning it slowly in her fingers. “Nothing worth telling. You don’t call that living, anyway.” She didn’t look at Caitlyn when she said it. Her voice was even, but there was something hollow behind it. Then she glanced up again, her eyes wide open, sincere.

“You, though… you’ve done well. You deserve that.” There was a softness in her gaze. No bitterness. Just quiet pride.

Caitlyn swallowed hard. “I missed you,” she blurted, unable to hold it in.

Vi froze. Just a breath.

“I missed you too,” she replied quietly.

They went for a walk along the lake. Vi’s bare feet skimmed the water’s edge, sending gentle ripples outward. Her hands were tucked into her shorts pockets, her pink hair drifting slightly in the breeze.

After a long stretch of silence, Vi spoke again.

“You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am,” Caitlyn answered after a pause. “I love my work. My mother and I… we’re good now. And… I met someone.”

She didn’t know why it felt like betrayal to say it. It shouldn’t. This wasn’t a confession. And yet, it clung to her throat like one.

“I’m glad,” Vi said. “How is she?”

“Her name’s Maddie. She’s Australian. She moved here a few years ago. Works in international commerce. Travels a lot. A little less now, since we moved in together.”

Vi raised her brows. “Damn. That’s serious shit.”

“It is,” Caitlyn smiled faintly. “It’s not always easy. But we make it work. She’s kind. Grounded.”

“You’d like her,” She added, almost too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Vi didn’t answer right away. She just nodded slowly, eyes on the lake. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

There was weight in her voice. No resentment. Just… distance. Caitlyn turned to look at her.

“Are you? Happy?”

Vi turned to her, lips parted, unconsciously, adorably. Her mouth was perfectly shaped, full and flushed with that deep, natural red. The scar on her upper lip caught the light like a signature. Caitlyn felt it like a strike to the chest. That furious, aching urge to draw it, paint it, carve it. To wear it like a secret jewel no one else could touch.

And then it hit her. She wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not about someone else. Not while she shared a home with Maddie. So she swallowed it. Stuffed the image back into the dark. As if that ever really worked.

Vi smiled, sheepishly. “I uh…I’m getting there. I think.”

“Good,” Caitlyn whispered. “That’s good.”

They walked back slowly, shoulder to shoulder without touching. On the patio, they sat with glasses of juice, quiet in the golden hour. They exchanged numbers. A small, impossible thing that suddenly made everything feel real again. Tangible.

“I should probably get going,” Caitlyn murmured.

“Yeah. You’ve got a long road ahead. Better not drive too late.”

Caitlyn hesitated. “It was… really good. Seeing you again. I didn’t think I’d ever get to.”

“I know,” Vi said, her voice low. “I thought the same.”

They walked together toward the car. The gravel crunched softly under their steps. Something inside Caitlyn twisted.

“Thanks for having me,” she said. “For everything.”

Vi gave a small nod. “Thank you. For coming all the way out here.”

Caitlyn paused, one hand on the car door.

“Well… Maddie’s organizing a thing. Next weekend. A kind of… garden party, I guess. I’m not sure.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Jayce and Mel will be there. It might be…nice. You could meet her. Them.” Her voice was too careful. Too light.

She didn’t know if Vi could hear the hundred silent questions packed into that single invitation.

Will you be there for me, like you used to?

Will you step back into my life as if time hadn’t broken us apart?

Will you still know me, find me beneath who I’ve become?

Will you be that constant again… the one thing that never slips away?

Vi rubbed the back of her neck. “I uh… I’m not really the party type anymore.”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” Caitlyn said quietly, but the disappointment bled through. Too raw to disguise, too soft to retract. It hung in the air, delicate and unmistakable.

“I—I’m sorry.” Vi frowned, her gaze dimming with regret.

“No, it’s fine. Really.” But the hurt clung to the edge of Caitlyn’s smile. There was no hiding it.

Vi let out a breath. The kind that comes with choices you don’t know how to make.

“Alright,” Caitlyn said quietly. She opened the door and sat inside, heart sinking, fingers fumbling with the seatbelt.

And just as she was about to start the engine…

“Cait?”

She turned. Vi was still by the porch, one hand in her pocket, the other running through her hair.

“Text me the details?” Her grin was small. Crooked. Nervous.

Caitlyn’s smile bloomed across her face, warm and unstoppable. “I will.”

Chapter Text

Woodkid 

“The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums, dictates
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

From the dawn of time to the end of days
I will have to run away
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again”

June 2020

Nothing compared to the sudden, overwhelming vision of something, someone, you thought lost forever. Years spent in unending shadow, convinced, persuaded even, that so much would never happen. So many faces you'd never see again. So much light and warmth you'd forever be cast away from.

And then, one day, you find yourself bathed in blazing sunlight, staring into eyes so deep, so painfully piercing they could smother you in a single glance. Or swallow you whole. And you wouldn’t even mind. You’d welcome it, dissolving into that blue. They’d release you, pure as a newborn. The part of you that had died without them would come alive again, untouched by ash or blood. A soul scrubbed clean.

Reality wasn’t that simple. Fantasies always held a touch of excess. That's what made them beautiful. They stayed intact, no matter what the world did. Untouchable. Unalterable.

Vi stood motionless in her front yard long after Caitlyn had gone. Staring at the path she’d taken, as if in a trance. Her mind did that now, since she got out. It took longer for things to register. For images, sounds, meanings to settle.

Caitlyn was back. She’d come all this way. To see her. To find her.

Vi had no idea how she knew she was here. Caitlyn had no idea what Vi had been through. How long she'd been back, why she hadn’t reached out. There were still so many things left unsaid, like secrets wedged beneath a mattress, or treasures buried deep in the earth. It had always been that way with them. You could be so close to someone, and still hide whole pieces of yourself. Biting back words. Swallowing truths.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t irrevocable, boundless love. It just meant that whatever raw thing they kept in the dark made them fragile. That naming it might break the thread they still clung to. So they gave what they could. And veiled the rest in something too thin to last.

The next few days passed in a blur of work, reading, and keeping her mind and body occupied. All while Caitlyn’s image haunted the backs of her eyes. She floated inside her like seafoam in the tide. Vi walked long hours in the forest, seeking the shadows of tall trees to shelter her from the oppressive summer heat.

She dreaded the party.

It left her in a permanent state of quiet panic. If she were honest, going was the last thing she wanted. But the sadness she’d seen in Caitlyn’s eyes had shattered her resolve. Because what wouldn’t Vi do to bring a flicker of joy to the woman she had loved for a lifetime?

She was even willing to break the sacred promise she had made to herself. Never to watch Caitlyn love someone else. Belong to someone else. Touch someone else... Even the thought made her sick.

How could she possibly stand there and watch? She didn’t know. Maybe just turning her head away when it got too hard would be enough. She desperately hoped so. It wasn’t like she planned to keep doing this. Just this once. For Caitlyn.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many people. Crowds weren’t her thing, not since the hell she'd been locked away in for four straight years. She’d handle it. She had to. Wasn’t unwavering love the most powerful fuel of all?

Caitlyn had sent her the details. Apparently, she hadn’t known until last minute. Some kind of surprise. Something about it felt... off. But Vi would go anyway.

The party was at the Kiramman mansion. A two-hour drive from Vi’s place. She’d already called Benzo to let him know she’d stay the night at his, since it was closer. He hadn’t minded. She had a key. He’d told her she was welcome anytime.

Time to get ready. Always a delicate task.

Vi pulled a white T-shirt from the bottom drawer, one she barely wore. Too clean. Too proper. She hesitated, fingers caught in the cotton, then tugged it over her head before she could second guess.

Next came black chinos. Slim, but not tight. Polished enough to show she’d made an effort, but not enough to feel like a lie. They moved well, soft at the seams. The kind of fabric that didn’t cling or beg for attention, but still held its shape.

She topped it with a navy jacket. Lightweight. Just structured enough to give her shoulders some presence, without making her feel caged. She shoved the sleeves up slightly, letting her tattooed forearm show at the cuff. White sneakers. Clean. Maybe too clean. Not her, but tonight she told herself they were.

She glanced at the mirror. Sunglasses hanging from her collar. Hair just messy enough, like she hadn’t tried, like it hadn’t taken twenty minutes. She looked... simple. But something in the reflection betrayed her. The tension in her shoulders. The slight clench of her jaw. That quiet, aching detail in the way the shirt stretched across her chest.

She looked like someone trying hard not to look like she was trying.

******

When she parked in front of the massive Kiramman gate, she was just a little late. Nothing too dramatic. A sting pulsed in the left side of her chest, right where her heart lived. Nostalgia. It spoke of brighter days, when some sliver of hope, however fragile, had still existed.

The iron gate was wide open. Already drained by the mere anticipation of the night ahead, she drove in.

As she approached the garden, she found it drowned in luxury. Ornate decorations. Round tables covered in crisp white linen. Delicate lights strung everywhere. A massive cold buffet. Waiters in tailored suits taking silent orders from people who didn’t even need to gesture.

She scanned the crowd; elegant clothes, upscale confidence. A hot flash washed over her skin. She already felt out of place, but now, looking down at her outfit, the urge to bolt tightened in her chest. She took a deep breath and stayed close to the periphery, far from the crowd.

She waved discreetly at a waiter. If she had any chance of surviving this, she was going to need a little help.

“Good evening, Miss. What can I offer you?” the posh waiter asked.

“I’ll have a rum and Coke, please,” she rasped. Her voice sounded like it hadn’t been used in days.

“Right away, Miss.” He gave a small, formal bow.

“And, um... can you double the rum?” she added, tentative.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with your order. Anything else?”

These guys had clearly mastered the art of showing zero emotion, no matter what you asked. It almost made Vi want to test the boundaries. Order something absurd. Just to see.

“No, that’s all,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thank you.”

The waiter reappeared at her side with ghostlike precision, tray in hand, drink delivered barely a minute later.

Vi blinked. “Damn,” she murmured, catching his eye for a second too long. “You deliver drinks faster than I ruin relationships.”

There was a flicker. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, quickly suppressed. He gave a discreet nod, perfectly composed, and moved on.

Vi let out a long breath into the silence he left behind. She took a sip, trying not to scan the space like she was waiting for someone. The booze already started to ease the frantic edge in her chest.

In the distance, she spotted Cassandra Kiramman deep in conversation with a circle of tuxedo-clad penguins. The woman was elegance personified, poised, graceful, and radiating authority. Every move she made eclipsed the soft old men she was surrounded by. She was clearly used to thriving in a man’s world.

“Vi!” The booming voice startled her. Jayce approached with a champagne glass in hand, his beige-and-white suit sharp and almost too pristine.

“Hey, man,” Vi said with a small but genuine smile. It was good to see a friendly face.

“It’s been too long! I’m glad you came!” he beamed. Since that night on New Year’s Eve, when Vi had cracked herself open just a little, he’d been nothing but kind. He was a good guy, once you got past the polished surface. And he cared about Caitlyn. That mattered.

“You too, Jayce. Really. How’ve you been?” She relaxed a touch, genuinely glad for the chance to catch up.

“Oh, lots of science. Travel. Still desperately single… but hey, I’ve been having fun,” he grinned.

“Well, that’s what counts, right?” Vi chuckled. “Heard you’ve been working on a new power source?”

“Yes! A major topic these days. What happens when we run out of black gold? We rely on it too much. I believe it’s crucial to find alternatives. The sooner, the better,” he said, animated.

“Yeah,” she drawled. “We humans are so great at managing our resources.”

“Oh, we’d never deplete the planet,” he replied with mock indignation.

“We’re way too evolved for that.”

“Far superior to any other species.” They shared a glance… then burst into laughter.

“So… Caitlyn told me you renovated a beautiful house in the countryside?” Jayce asked, smile lingering.

“Yeah. It’s a great place. Quiet. Nice view. You’re welcome anytime,” Vi said. And she meant it.

“I might take you up on that.”

“Gladly, man.” She winked.

She had just finished her drink when she saw her.

The clinking of glasses, the warm hum of high-society pleasantries, the soft jazz bleeding through the air… all of it vanished in an instant.

Caitlyn was walking through the crowd. And it wasn’t fair.

That dress, navy blue, sleek as midnight, kissed her curves with quiet reverence. The bodice clung to her like whispered silk, a soft V neckline drawing the eye without asking for it. Delicate straps framed her shoulders like fine brushstrokes. The fabric cinched at her waist, then flowed down her hips and thighs with elegant precision, parting just enough to reveal the long, sculpted line of her leg with each step she took.

And gods… she moved like the dress had been waiting its whole life to be worn by her.

Vi’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled instinctively around the empty glass. She couldn’t tell if it was awe or desire. Probably both. The kind of aching, reverent longing that made you forget how to breathe.

She should have looked away. She couldn’t.

Caitlyn’s hair was down. Smooth as ink, brushing the bare skin of her collarbone. A single silver earring swayed gently when she turned her head, catching the light. But not nearly as much as the small, knowing smile she wore.

Memories surged, unbidden. Like a life flashing before death.

Caitlyn in a tight red dress at Christmas. In leggings and a tank top at the gym. In black pants and a navy turtleneck the night they met. Caitlyn pressed against her under her bedsheets. The harmony of her fingers dancing across piano keys. Every heavy glance, every burning touch, every crushed silence. The kiss beneath moonlight on the beach. The sound of her moan, the heat of her breath, the silk of her lips.

Years of yearning. It was too much. Vi’s chest heaved involuntarily.

“Vi? You okay?” Jayce’s voice cut through, laced with concern.

It took everything in her to turn to him and pull her lips into a faint smile.

“Yeah,” she managed, rough and barely audible.

Her eyes drifted back to the angel who always flew just out of reach.

And then, ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of the show.

Someone appeared at Caitlyn’s side. Slipped her hand around Caitlyn’s arm like it belonged there.

She was petite, maybe five foot two, with sharp, angular features and a kind of deliberate posture that said: I know where I stand. And I stand well. Copper-red hair, cut in a precise architectural bob that hugged her jaw. Pale skin. Bright eyes. A quick smile, the kind that didn’t ask for approval. It assumed it. She leaned in to murmur something, and Caitlyn tilted her head toward her. Close. Familiar. The curve of Caitlyn’s lips answered. Not loud enough to wound, but it didn’t need to be.

Vi recognized her. She had seen the woman once, hidden under the shadow of a tree on campus...

She didn’t need the story. The image was enough: Caitlyn, glowing in midnight blue. And someone else claiming the right to hold her.

A tight knot bloomed low in her chest. It wasn’t just jealousy, that would have been too easy. It was pain. Crawling under her skin like a parasite. That ache you get when you look at the person you’ll never be, and they look back. Organs on fire. Praying for anything to make it stop. Something broke inside her, so sharply she could almost hear it.

She wouldn’t go as far as to say she’d rather be back in the dark cell where she was tortured.

But drowning in the lake? That might’ve hurt less than this.

Vi forced herself to breathe, slow and steady, like the air didn’t taste like iron. It didn’t work. Her hands trembled. And then, pain.

“Vi!” Jayce’s voice again, horrified this time.

She looked down. Blood was dripping from her right hand. The glass had shattered in her grip.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

“Come on. Follow me.” Jayce pressed a napkin into her hand and led her toward the house.

They made it to a small bathroom. Vi sat on the edge of the tub while Jayce rummaged through the cabinet for supplies.

“You alright?” he asked, dabbing at the cut.

“I’m fine. I just have a strong grip. These glasses are crap,” she muttered.

“Sure,” he replied under his breath, clearly unconvinced.

“Thanks, Jayce. Really.”

He didn’t answer. Just focused on wrapping the bandage. When he was done, he let out a long sigh and looked at her, serious now.

“You know, I’m surprised you showed up tonight.” Vi didn’t move. He continued.

“Not just because you vanished for five years.” He huffed. “I remember what you told me on New Year’s Eve, all those years ago. You were… selfless. It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. And still…you didn’t ask for anything. You didn’t hope. Didn’t expect. That’s when I knew.”

He paused, gaze steady.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

Vi stayed silent. Forced herself to hold his gaze. To keep the truth behind her teeth.

“I know it’s not my place, but… I mean… clearly, it hurts.” He nodded at her bandaged hand.

“I’ve been through worse.” She shrugged.

“You know what I mean, Vi.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“I don’t think it is. Why don’t you just say something?”

“That’s never gonna happen,” she said, flat.

“Why not?”

“Listen, man, I appreciate it. I do. But things are exactly as they should be. Everyone’s where they’re meant to be. I won’t change that. I can’t.” She had said too much already. Years of resistance wore you down eventually.

“If you’re afraid you’ll hurt her—”

“That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.” Her voice was steel. Feverish steel. “I’m broken, Jayce. A mess. I’m no better now than before. If anything, I’m worse.” She exhaled. Slow. Weighted. “Caitlyn’s happy. So I’m happy. Simple as that.”

Jayce sighed. “Alright. If you say so.”

They were about to leave when Vi hesitated.

“Jayce?”

“Hm?” He turned back.

“You’re not… gonna tell anyone about this, right?” Her voice was low. Raw.

“I won’t. I swear.” She believed him.

“Thanks.”

They were back in the garden. Vi scanned the crowd for the same waiter, the one who hadn’t flinched. She liked him, for some reason. And she wouldn’t have to explain her order again.

Glass in hand, she spotted Mel approaching, beaming.

“Good evening, guys! Vi, it’s been forever. How are you?” she asked warmly.

“Perfect,” Vi replied, raising her glass in salute.

They chatted; about Vi’s house, Jayce’s latest vacation, Mel’s company, which she managed with a masterful hand.

Vi was draining her third drink when a soft touch on her shoulder spun her around.

“Violet. I’m so glad you’re here.” Caitlyn’s smile was warm enough to melt glaciers.

“Hey, Cait. Thank you for inviting me.” Vi’s voice was stiff. The smile wouldn’t come.

“Thank you for coming.”

Then the copper-haired woman joined her side.

“Good evening, everyone! So lovely to meet you. Caitlyn told me about you. Vi, right?”

“That’s me. Mandy, right?” Vi replied, too quickly. She had no idea what made her act so childish. To be fair, the alcohol was doing some of the talking.

Caitlyn shot her a glance, expression unreadable.

“Close. It’s Maddie.” She extended her hand with a small grin.

“What happened to your hand?” Caitlyn frowned, spotting the bandage.

“Vi had a little accident. Nothing serious,” Jayce cut in.

“Yeah,” Vi added. “You’d think a place like this could afford stronger glasses, huh?” She smiled crookedly.

Jayce snorted. Maddie’s smile twitched, a little tight. Caitlyn just frowned, confused. Vi took another sip.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Maddie said with a polite smile, “we have some things to discuss with Cassandra.”

“Do we?” Caitlyn’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, my love, we do.”

Vi choked on her drink. My love. That was rich. Vi’s love could outshine any sun.  Outburn any flame.  Brighter than any dainty little thing. Brighter than any Maddie.

She really needed to stop drinking.

“Sorry,” she coughed. “Stronger than the last one,” she said, gesturing to her glass.

“Careful now,” Maddie said with a laugh that rang fake to Vi’s ears. “So… I’ll see you around, Vi?”

“Sure.”

Caitlyn lingered. “I’ll talk to you later?” she asked, like she needed it to be true.

“I’ll be there,” Vi nodded.

She shot down the rest of her drink. Then poured herself another. This evening was a nightmare. Like someone had designed it, detail by detail, to make her live through her own personal Hell.

She just wanted it to end.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Cassandra’s voice echoed through the garden. “I hope you’re all enjoying the evening. If you would step closer, someone has a very special announcement to make.”

She turned and handed the microphone to Maddie.

Vi’s stomach clenched. Panic rising. She knew, instinctively, that whatever was coming would brand itself into her memory. And not in a good way.

“Thank you, Cassandra.” Maddie’s smile gleamed.  “Caitlyn, my love, would you join me here?” she held out her hand.

Caitlyn stepped forward, visibly uneasy. Her smile was tight. She took Maddie’s hand with reluctance written all over her.

“I’ve had the incredible luck of sharing my life with you for the past few years. I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re smart, kind, and absolutely beautiful. To put it simply… you’re way too good for me.”

 At least she’s lucid, Vi thought bitterly.

“Your home is mine. Your family is mine. And now, I want your name to be mine.”

The horror unfolded like a slow-motion car crash. The girl dropped to one knee. Right there. In front of everyone.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, will you marry me?”

She opened a velvet box. The ring inside sparkled like it had been mined from the moon and cost more than a small spaceship.

Vi felt the floor vanish beneath her.

Caitlyn’s hand flew to her chest. She didn’t answer. Not for a long, suffocating moment. She stared at the ring. Eyes glassy, distant. She looked out into the crowd, searching. Not really seeing.

Her gaze settled on Cassandra. The older woman looked like she might burst with joy. Hands clasped to her mouth, tears in her eyes, her whole body leaning forward. Caitlyn’s eyes lingered there. She swallowed.

Then, finally, the word that would finish Vi off. Seal her fate. The one thing she doubted she’d ever survive.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted. Applause. Cheers. Bright, loud celebration. A roar that drowned everything else.

Vi felt like the only frozen thing in a world spinning too fast.  Her glass slipped from her hand and shattered in slow motion. She panted.  The ground tilted beneath her. The world spun like some grotesque carnival ride. Her stomach surged up into her throat.

She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear.  She was surrounded by a silence so absolute, she wondered if this was what death felt like

She took one step back. Then another. And another.

Then her body broke free before her mind could catch up.

She ran. Like her past had teeth and it was catching up. Like the city behind her was collapsing in on itself.

She didn’t stop until she reached her car.

She yanked the door open, threw herself inside.

She hit the gas and the car lunged forward. The engine roared, like it was pissed off, too. The tires screamed. She was gone before the door had fully shut.

******

She was driving like a maniac through the city streets, yelling at anyone bold enough to honk at her. Horns, brakes, red lights; she didn’t care. Rage was at the wheel. She made it back to Benzo’s place in no time. There was a sliver of light under the door to his study, but she didn’t stop. She tore up the stairs and into the comfort of her old bedroom.

She sat on the bed, head between her knees, trying not to throw up.

A high-pitched ringing echoed in her ears. She pressed her hands against them, fingers curled tight with tension. Rocking slowly, she tried to focus on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

For the first time in eight years of knowing her, Vi was angry at Caitlyn. Furious. She argued with her in her mind. Not even Caitlyn, really, but the idea of her. A phantom she could scream at.

Why would you do this to me? Why would you make me watch that?

You made me come to that fucking party, and I went, because I’m weak for you. I’ve always been. And I know you know that.

 What did I do to deserve this? I’ve been kind. I’ve been vulnerable. I was always there when you needed me, when I wasn’t rotting in a cell, getting the shit kicked out of me on a daily basis. I would’ve given you the world. Sold my soul. Ripped my own heart out if you asked me to. You made me soft. You made me weak. And I let you.

 I gave up on you, you know that? I finally let you go. And then you came walking back into my life like you still belonged there. I know I don’t deserve you. I know I’ll never be good enough. But I didn’t deserve this.

 I’m not your toy, Caitlyn. Not some puppet you can jerk around with a flick of your perfect little fingers. I’m so tired of loving you.

 It used to keep me alive. Now it just drains me. Takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left. You’re gonna leave me a fucking husk. A fucking empty shell. I’m done with you.

You made me weak. And I’ll never forgive you for it.

You made me weak. And I fucking hate you for it.

It almost felt good. Almost like she’d actually shouted the words. Like her throat was raw and her voice had broken from the effort. But there was no relief. Only exhaustion. She felt battered. Shattered.

No.

She refused to let herself break like that.

She jumped to her feet and tore through the room. She used to stash things everywhere in this place… surely something had to be left. Something to dull the edges. Anything. Anything to stop the rip inside her chest from spreading.

Bingo.

A small plastic bag. White powder. Already prepped with a rolled-up bill inside. No hesitation.

Her hands moved frantically now, electric with purpose. She yanked a box from under the bed. Opened it. The leather harness was right where she remembered.

She strapped it on fast, fingers sure, almost practiced, like muscle memory. Slid a thick dildo into the center. Covered it with clean boxers, more for form than modesty.

Then she went back to her car.

******

She was moving slower now, limbs heavy with despair. She drove to Babette’s Club. Nothing had changed. She rushed backstage without glancing at the bar or the crowd dancing to the pulse of bass and bodies.

“Who are you?” Shit. A new bouncer.

“Name’s Vi. Haven’t been here in a while.”

“Let me check. I’ll be back.”

He made his way to the bar, and Vi’s heart unclenched when she saw him talking to Sarah.
Still there. He whispered something in her ear, and Sarah lifted her head, eyes catching Vi. Her face lit up. She waved. Vi returned the gesture, sharp and brief. The bouncer returned and opened the door without a word.

The hallway beyond was narrow, bathed in dim red light, the kind that didn’t illuminate so much as bleed. It coated everything in a thin sheen of sin. The air was warmer here. Stagnant. Heavier. The kind that clung to your skin and whispered against your throat. It smelled like latex, sweat, and old smoke. The kind of scent that couldn’t be scrubbed from the walls no matter how many times they tried.

The carpet underfoot was thin and sticky. The walls were lined with mirrors, warped slightly, giving everyone’s reflection a ghostly, voyeuristic edge. It looked like a sex dungeon. Which was exactly what it was. At the end of the corridor: a round room with a smaller bar, low couches, cushions tossed with casual vulgarity. The same terrible red light pulsed overhead, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own. Moans floated in from adjoining rooms. Wet sounds. Bodies hitting bodies. Whispers. Cries. Beds creaking against plaster walls. It was a place where no one pretended to want anything else.

Vi made her way to the bar and sat on one of the stools, its vinyl surface cracked and tacky beneath her thighs. She ordered a beer, something cheap and cold, and drank it slow. One leg bounced under her like a ticking metronome. She didn’t need to seek. It would come.

And it did.

Half an hour later, a woman approached with hunger in her eyes.

“You here alone, handsome?” she purred.

“I was. Until now.” Vi’s voice was flat.

The woman’s fingers brushed her forearm. Petite, blonde curls, brown eyes. Nothing like Caitlyn. Which was exactly the point.

“I haven’t seen someone that hot in a long time…” she whispered, leaning close to Vi’s ear.

“We could change that.”

“I won’t say no to that.” She bit her lip, already breathing harder.

“Then you should know what you’re getting into.” Vi’s tone turned firm. Commanding.

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up. “Tell me.”

“I make the rules. No touching. No foreplay. Don’t expect soft.” Vi grabbed her hand and slid it down between her legs, let her feel the hardness of the strap pressing beneath the fabric.

The woman’s pupils dilated instantly.

“Fuck…” she moaned. “You’re gonna ruin me, aren’t you?”

“If that’s what you want,” Vi murmured darkly, “that’s exactly what I’m here to do.”

“Lead the way.”

They passed through another corridor, this one narrower, darker, louder. Muffled moans echoed behind velvet curtains and half-closed doors. Some rooms were open, just a mattress on the floor, limbs tangled and glistening in half-light.

They found one that was empty. The room was small. Square. No windows. Just a bed with a dark leather headboard, sheets rumpled from whoever had used them before. The walls were lined with padded panels, black and red, the paint peeling slightly at the edges. A single light hung from the ceiling, dim and warm, casting shadows that swayed slightly with every breath. There was a mirror on the ceiling, cracked at one corner. A metal hook dangled from it, unused.

The air inside was thick with sweat, perfume, and old sex, like the room itself had absorbed years of lust and regret and never learned how to forget. The floor creaked under their steps. The mattress was low, soft in the wrong way, sagging and stained.

Vi didn’t hesitate. She sat down on a chair in front of the bed, not for comfort, but for control.

“Take off your clothes.”

The woman obeyed without a word, slowly peeling away layers. She was already breathing faster.

“On the bed. On your back.”

She climbed on with practiced grace. Legs slightly apart. Waiting.

Vi stood.

She peeled off her clothes piece by piece — her pants, vest, shirt — revealing her body in fragments, like it didn’t belong to her anymore. Just a tool. A black sports bra. Clean boxers. The hard shape of the strap pressing against the cotton, unmistakable.

The woman let out a breathy gasp. Her thighs rubbed together. Vi didn’t react.

She retrieved the bag from her pocket. Climbed onto the bed, knees between the woman’s legs. The mattress shifted with a tired groan.

“Don’t move.”

The blonde nodded, lips parted.

Vi poured the powder carefully onto her nipples, one, then the other. Bent forward. Inhaled. The sting burned straight to her skull. Sharp. Instant. But it was good. It gave her something to hold onto. She did the second line. The girl was watching her now with half-lidded eyes. Aroused, dazed, docile. Vi tossed the dollar bill aside. Pulled down her boxers. The cock stood firm.

She guided the tip to the woman’s slick opening and let it slide in, slow and steady. The girl whimpered.

“Turn around.”

Soon, she was staring at the soft curve of her ass.

“Up. Hands on the headboard.”

The woman obeyed, bracing herself. Vi knelt behind her, pressed her hips close. One hand on her back, guiding her. She slipped two fingers into her pussy and moved there for a while. Gathered wetness. Rubbed it along the shaft.

Then, without warning, she thrust inside. Rough. Unforgiving.

The woman cried out, but Vi barely registered it.

She moved fast. Furious. One arm hooked around the woman’s waist to hold her still. Her rhythm was brutal. Mechanical. She didn’t care about the whimpers. The begging. The sound of skin against skin.

She was filling her. And yet she still felt hollow.

Why the fuck did she still feel so empty?

So she pounded harder, her furious rhythm unrelenting. She stared blankly at the woman’s back, lost in the repetition. Motion. Breath. Flesh.

Then — a tear fell.

She watched it land on bare, sweating skin. And another followed. And another. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop them. But it was useless. They kept coming. A flood behind her lashes, a storm breaking loose. She grimaced. Her face twisted, not in pleasure, not even in release, but in pain. The kind that lives in bone. In memory. In loss you never consented to.

She fucked a stranger like someone unjustly condemned. With the rage of a prisoner screaming at a verdict carved in stone.

And the only thing she felt was empty.

******

When she got home and stared out at the dark lake, she felt dirty. Stained. Disgusted by the smell of her own sweat, the taste of her tears. She had gotten drunk. High. And then she’d fucked a stranger for hours. She didn’t even know her name.

She had let her old demons win. Let them crawl out from whatever hole she’d shoved them in. They’d fed on her suffering, bloated and grinning. She could still feel them lurking behind her. Red horns, yellow eyes, claws sharper than knives, hanging above her like a curse waiting to fall.

She felt sorry for herself. She dropped to her knees, surrendering to the loneliness of the night. And she cried. She sobbed until her throat burned. Screamed until her lungs collapsed. Crumbled into herself like ash.

Time dissolved. She had no idea how long she stayed like that. Hours maybe, or just minutes stretched into eternity. She hated herself. She was angry. She was furious.

Eight years ago, she’d given someone the power to break her. And they had. She regretted it. She wished she’d just stayed at that stupid frat party. Gotten drunk, sold some shit, left. Kept her heart locked up. Never looked into those blue eyes. She had never felt this way about Caitlyn. And deep down, she knew it wasn’t the truth now, either.

But she was too angry to admit it. Too hurt. Too hollow. The pain had chased away the good memories. And maybe that was a mercy. Maybe it was the only thing keeping her from giving up completely. Because even rage was still a way to feel. And feeling was still a form of living. Eventually, she made her way inside. Took a blistering hot shower. Collapsed on her bed.

She slept fifteen hours straight.

When she woke up, her head was pounding like someone had slammed it against a brick wall. She probably deserved it. She groaned into her pillow and tried to move her arms. They wouldn’t budge. Her whole body felt like it weighed a ton, sunken into the mattress like a corpse.

She closed her eyes. Drifted off again for another hour. She didn’t know how she could sleep so much. Didn’t care. The past few days had drained her dry, like someone had wrung her out from the inside. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get up again. Part of her didn’t even want to. She just needed it to end. Or at least… pause. A long, quiet break from being Vi.

But she knew herself. She knew her mind. Her body. She knew the fight that lived in her blood, even now. She was a survivor. She always had been. And she would keep going. Because that’s what she did. Eventually, she pushed herself out of bed. Took another shower, cold this time, to wake the dead thing inside her.

She went downstairs. Fried some eggs. Bacon too. She needed the energy. She had to take it from somewhere, since her body didn’t make its own anymore.

After her meal, she felt slightly better. She found her phone and checked it. Several messages from Caitlyn.

Caitlyn
Vi, where are you? Did you already go home?

Caitlyn
I was hoping to see you… You didn’t look well at the party.

I’m sorry if I did something wrong.

Caitlyn
Would you please answer me? Just let me know you’re okay.

Caitlyn
I’m really worried. Please respond when you can.

I hope you’re alright.

She never let go. Vi couldn’t blame her. She knew Caitlyn cared. She’d never doubted that. But it just… wasn’t enough anymore. It was strange, because it had always been enough before. But now… now there was something broken. A crack so deep it couldn’t be sealed.

And still... She loved her. So much. Too much.

She decided she could at least spare her a few words. Just enough to say I’m alive. Not dead in a ditch. Not vanished again.

Vi
Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry. Had an emergency.

That would have to do. It was the truth. A tiny sliver of it, anyway. She needed to avoid her now. As much as possible. Protect herself. Caitlyn would move on. She’d done it before. She’d do it again. She’d keep writing. She’d get married. She’d be fine.

And Vi would live. One day at a time. She’d work. Make money. Fix up the house. It was already better than she’d ever thought she’d deserve.

Then she saw a missed call. And a message from Powder.

Powder
Hey sis! Hope you’re good. Call me ASAP. Love ya.

Vi smiled. The first real smile in… a long time. She called her back immediately.

“Yelloooow!” Powder’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hey, Pow! Good to hear you. How’ve you been?”

“Working way too hard. Gonna take a few days off. How’s things for you?”

“It’s alright. I’ve been… working too.”

“Well that’s decent therapy! But I think we both need a little fun, don’t you?”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.” Vi felt her grin stretch across her face.

“So me and the guys were thinking we’d come stay with you for a few days. Maybe a week. Sound good?”

“Fuck, Pow, you have no idea how good that sounds. I can’t wait.”

Relief bloomed in her chest like painkiller dropped in water.

“That’s what I like to hear! We’ll be there in two days.”

“Perfect. I’ll get the place ready for your asses.”

“You better! I’ve missed you! See ya, loser. Peace!”

When she hung up, Vi felt something shift. A new energy stirred under her skin, like the first flickers of sunlight after a long, brutal winter.

Her phone buzzed again. Caitlyn.

Caitlyn
I’m so relieved to hear from you.

Nothing too bad, I hope?

Vi
No, don’t worry. Handled it.

Caitlyn
Okay, good.

Did you at least enjoy the party a little?

Vi
Yeah.
Congratulations, by the way.

Caitlyn
Thank you.

Will I see you soon?

Vi
Let’s keep in touch.

See ya, Cait.

That was all she could manage.

Now came the plan, simple and silent. Fade out. Ghost her. Let the days’ pass. Tell her she was busy, if she insisted. Eventually, it would all fade. It happened. To everyone. Friends drifted apart all over the world. Lives moved on.

Vi would survive. She always did.

******

Vi was lying comfortably in the small boat, drifting gently on the lake. Sunglasses shielding her from the sun, arms folded behind her head, she let the stillness seep into her bones.

The moment was quiet.

“I thought this would be more… exciting,” Ekko sighed from the other end of the boat. He was perched on the edge, holding a fishing line, a black cap pulled low over his brow.

“Just enjoy it, Little Man. Learn some patience,” Vi sneered.

“Maybe stop calling me that. I’m not exactly little anymore.” He flashed a crooked grin.

“You’ll always be Little Man to me. I used to help you take baths, remember?”

“I try not to.” He chuckled, and Vi joined in.

“I’m a man now. Gonna provide for us tonight.” He said with a proud little smirk.

“Alright, Cave Man.” She threw him a mischievous glance. “See? I updated your nickname.”

His laugh echoed across the stillness of the lake, cutting clean through the hush. “I liked the old one better.”

“Make up your mind.”

“Maybe Powder and Mylo were right… this is kinda boring,” Ekko muttered.

“They can’t sit still for five minutes. They’re exhausting.”

“Tell me about it.”

Vi paused, then asked, softly, carefully, like testing the water:

“How’s Powder been lately?”

Ekko looked down at the line in his hand, then back out at the water. “The same, really. All over the place. Always working. She’s been worried sick about you... but seeing you getting better…it helps. A lot.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

There was another silence. Softer, this time.

“How’s it between you two?”

He smiled, a quiet, familiar smile. “Ups and downs. But we’ve known each other forever. We know how to handle each other. When to back off, when to lean in. It’s like second nature.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s not always easy, but... I’ll take the hard days. Can’t imagine life without her.”

“Aww... didn’t know you could be such a sweetheart.” Vi teased.

“Hey, I’m a sensitive, modern man.”

“Damn right you are. I’m proud of you. Proud of you two.”

Ekko glanced at her, a more serious look in his eyes. “Hey, um... I’ve been meaning to ask… what happened with Caitlyn? She came to see you, right?”

Vi didn’t flinch. Just exhaled slowly. “Yeah. She did. It was fine. We caught up. She’s got her life, you know?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “She looked wrecked when Powder told her you were back. I’ve never seen her like that. Pale as a ghost.”

Vi didn’t answer right away.

“Well… everyone thought I was dead. That kind of news tends to shake people up.” She deflected, smooth.

“Just saying. I think she cares about you. A lot.”

“What’s your point?” Vi’s tone sharpened.

Ekko hesitated. Then, softly: “Why didn’t you ever tell her? How you feel.”

Vi’s breath caught. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Vi…”

“It’s complicated.” Her voice was low, fragile.

“But, between you two, there’s this—”

“She’s engaged, Ekko.” The words came out like broken glass. Her eyes shut, like it could somehow un-say them.

“Oh…” he breathed. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s life.” She tried to sound indifferent, but bitterness clung to her tongue. “She’s happy. Her mother’s ecstatic.”

“I didn’t see that coming…”

“I did.” And she had. Long ago.

Ekko glanced at her, brow furrowed. “How do you feel about it?”

Vi smiled faintly, tilting her head toward the sky. “I’ll be okay, Little Man. I’m fine.”

And maybe one day, she really would be.

That hope, however small, was all she had left.

Chapter Text

The Acid

“Coming up for air
Coming up for air

Push me back in
Silent in sin
Fight in water
want it, want it
Basic instinct”

June 2020

Trapped. Cornered. Pressured. Outnumbered. Terrified.

In the middle of it all, Caitlyn’s brain had short-circuited. She could almost hear it, the clacking sound of sparks, like an overloaded electric wire ready to burst. When her gaze landed on her mother, she saw it all. Clear as day. The joy. The pride. The rising thrill of dreams coming true.

Cassandra’s entire face lit up, and Caitlyn didn’t have the courage to ruin it. To rip the hope from her eyes. To lie to her by telling the truth. She’d never be brave enough. Not after years of hearing how proud her father would have been. How much he would have loved Maddie. How perfect she was for her. And there were at least fifty people watching. She couldn’t humiliate Maddie, or her mother. Or herself. Not by hesitating. Not by saying no. That wasn’t an option. So she did the only thing she could. She surrendered. She caved.

She let the word slip out. Not pushed, not chosen, just released, dragged from her constricted lungs through a clenched throat. There was no strength in it, no conviction. Just a blank, tired resignation.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted, but it sounded far away. Muffled. Unreal. She saw the happy tears in Maddie’s eyes. Her mother, who never lost her composure, broke into sobs and clapped like a child. Caitlyn had rarely seen her like this, radiant, ecstatic. For a second, Caitlyn let herself imagine her father. Tobias, hiding part of his smile behind his beard, his joy modest but bright in his eyes. Watching her like she was everything he’d ever hoped she would become. The perfect daughter. The apple of his eye.

But it was only an illusion. And like all illusions, it began to fade, slowly dissolving, like smoke pulled apart by the wind. A tear slid down Caitlyn’s cheek. Maddie must’ve taken it for joy, because she wrapped her in a crushing embrace. Caitlyn didn’t move.

She stood frozen, watching herself from the outside, like a still, distant spectator to her own unraveling. She forced her lips into something that looked like a smile, remembering, just in time, that everyone was watching. Maddie took her hand and turned toward the crowd, bowing slightly. Like they were performers at the end of a play. Caitlyn followed stiffly, as if on strings. Conversations picked back up. Laughter rose. Glasses clinked again.

Cassandra rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug, warm and rare.

“My dear Caitlyn, you have no idea how happy I am,” she whispered into her hair. “I’m so proud of you. Your father would be too. I love you so much.”

Each word drove the knife deeper. Pressed harder. Twisted the wound and rubbed salt on it.

“Thank you, Mum. I love you too.” Caitlyn said in a strained voice.

Cassandra stepped back, and Caitlyn lifted a trembling hand to wipe her mother’s tears.

She sighed. “I’m going to get a drink. I think I need one.” A soft laugh escaped her, shaky.

“Alright. I’ll see you later.” Caitlyn nodded.

She turned to Maddie, who was now animatedly chatting with a group of coworkers. “I’m going to find Jayce, okay?” she said.

Maddie nodded, radiant.

Caitlyn drifted into the crowd. Looking for Jayce. But really, she was hoping to find Vi.

When she spotted Jayce with Mel, her heart tightened. Vi wasn’t there. The disappointment hit her like a hundred tiny needles, precise and merciless.

“Jayce!” she called as she approached.

“Caitlyn! Congratulations, Sprout! I can’t believe you’re tying the knot! Finally!” He laughed, opening his arms.

“Thanks, Jayce.” She exhaled into the comfort of his hug. “I can’t believe it either, honestly.”

“I bet!” he chuckled. “It’s only natural. It’s been, what? Two minutes?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Have you seen Vi?” The question came too fast, too hopeful.

His smile faded slightly. His expression blurred. Was it worry? Regret?

“She, um... she had to leave, I think,” he said quietly.

“Oh...” Caitlyn’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“No idea. Sorry.” He looked at her with something close to pity. And she had no idea why.

“Alright. That’s okay. I’ll call her later,” she mumbled.

The rest of the night felt like a never-ending show. A spectacle meant only to entertain the audience. Caitlyn eventually found Maddie and told her she was tired and wanted to go home.

“Oh... okay. I’ll come with you,” Maddie said.

“You don’t have to. You can stay and enjoy the rest of your night if you want.” Her tone was flat. Too careful. She wondered how Maddie didn’t notice.

“No way. I’m not letting my lovely bride-to-be out of my sight.” Maddie beamed.

“Alright.”

The drive home was quiet. Caitlyn focused on the road. Maddie tossed out a few happy comments here and there, but they didn’t require much of a reply. Once they reached the house, Caitlyn remained silent. Lost in thought. Trying to understand how things had unraveled so quickly. She couldn’t even name her own feelings anymore. Everything inside her was frozen. Numb.

She showered, changed into a nightgown, and slipped into bed. Maddie was still getting ready.

When she finally lay down next to her, Caitlyn’s body went stiff, every muscle tensing with the urge to escape. To put distance between them. A slow anger began to coil in her stomach, ready to erupt.

Maddie turned toward her, her face soft and glowing. “I’m so happy you said yes, Cait.” Her fingers brushed along Caitlyn’s arm.

 Breathe, Caitlyn told herself. Stay calm. Composed. Say it like an adult.

“Well… it felt like you did everything to make sure I would,” she said quietly. Her voice was level, but taut beneath the surface.

Maddie blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply. “I mean, popping the question in front of a crowd… no less than fifty people, including my mother, was a very effective way to put pressure on me.”

“I… I didn’t mean to. I just thought it’d be romantic. And I wanted to make Cassandra happy too...” Maddie stammered. “You should’ve seen her face when I asked for your hand.”

Caitlyn stared at her, unflinching. “I can imagine.”

“So… what’s wrong, then?”

“I feel like you don’t know me at all,” Caitlyn said, her voice rising. “How you could think, even for a second, that I’d enjoy that kind of attention is beyond me.”

Maddie’s eyes widened.

“You know I don’t rush into things. That’s not who I am. And you gave me no time to think… you just…” She paused, breath catching. “You cornered me, Maddie.”

“I...” Maddie opened her mouth, but nothing came.

“The way I see it; you either knew exactly what you were doing, or you were completely blind to how I would feel. Too caught up in yourself to realize I wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.” Her voice had sharpened.

Maddie made a soft, choking sound, but still said nothing.

“Either way, it was a really bad move.” She locked eyes with her, made sure the words would land. And gods, she couldn’t remember ever being this mad at her.

“Did you… did you want to say no?” Maddie asked, her voice breaking.

“I don’t know!” Caitlyn snapped.

She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. It burst out of her. Her body moving faster than her mind.

“I don’t know what I would’ve said… if you’d asked me privately, in a moment that made sense, with time to actually feel something.”

She threw the covers off and began pacing the bedroom. The anger had taken over now; hot, breathless, shaking.

“I hated it, Maddie. It wasn’t a nice, happy moment for me. It was too fast. Too much. I couldn’t process any of it. And now I don’t even know what I feel.”

The words poured out like fire on her tongue.

Maddie sat up in bed, reaching toward her even though she couldn’t close the space.

“It’s okay, baby, we’ll just slow down. There’s no rush. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” She was pleading now. “We’ll go on vacation with my family next month, and we won’t even talk about it. We’ll rest, enjoy things, and I…”

“I’m not coming with you,” Caitlyn cut in, sharp and cold.

“What?” Maddie whispered. “We were supposed to spend three weeks there…”

“I’m not coming.” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Why?” Maddie asked, her voice cracking.

“I need time. For myself. To think.”

“About us?” The tears were falling now, full and fast.

A wave of guilt hit Caitlyn. She didn’t want to hurt her… but she had to be honest, at least as much as the moment allowed.

“Among other things.”

Maddie sniffled loudly. “Should I be worried?” she murmured, voice stripped bare.

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn said. Plain. Honest. And cruel by necessity.

“Are we over?”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Her voice clipped now, defensive. “I didn’t say we’re over. I just don’t know where we stand anymore.”

Maddie nodded slowly, her entire posture collapsing inward.

“Okay…” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll give you time. I’ll give you everything you need. Just… please don’t leave me.” She reached for anything she could. “Think about the life we built. Think about your mother. It’ll destroy her.”

That landed like a slap. Caitlyn blinked, stunned by the sheer low blow. Maddie would use anything to keep her.

“Promise me,” she begged. “Promise me you’ll wait. That we’ll talk, fix this, when I come back.”

Caitlyn was shaking now. Crying too. Torn between guilt and clarity. Could she promise that? She didn’t know if she wanted to be with Maddie anymore. And if she didn’t, would she have the courage to leave her? This woman who had given her everything. Who’d picked her up when she was broken. Who had offered her peace, familiarity, safety. She owed her that, didn’t she? She wasn’t someone who just… threw people away.

She sniffled, and said it. “I promise.” A whisper. Fragile. Cracked.

But Maddie heard it. And she clung to it.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight,” Caitlyn said.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She just left. She sobbed into the cold sheets of a bed that wasn’t hers. In a house that felt less and less like home. In a life that was quietly slipping away from her, one silent step at a time. Certain. Cruelly calm.

She thought of Vi. Of how it felt to be around her, like the weight lifted, the pain dulled. Her Violet who never made her feel like a stranger in her own life. Never made her feel like she didn’t belong to herself.

She thought of what Vi must have gone through. Of her strength. Of how far she seemed now. Out of reach. And that thought shattered her.

She cried harder. She couldn’t stop. She was worried. Vi hadn’t looked like herself at the party. And then she was gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Caitlyn had sent texts but there was no reply. She hoped she was okay.

She wished she could be with her, right now. She surrendered to the hidden feelings. The ache of her absence, the pull of longing, the desperate need for closeness. She let it all flood through her. A painful relief. A guilty kind of pleasure.

And in the middle of the night, under covers that felt too clean, in a room that wasn’t hers, she let the truth in:

She desperately craved to see her again.

******

July 2020

The airport buzzed with noise. People rushed to catch their flights, rolled suitcases behind them, said hurried goodbyes. Long lines stretched across the terminal, and the air felt thick, heavy. Caitlyn stood near Maddie’s gate. She was about to board a flight to Australia to spend three weeks with her family.

“Well…” Maddie glanced at her, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I hope you… enjoy the time for yourself. I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your stay. Don’t overthink things. I want you to have a good time.” Caitlyn’s voice was flat. Her face unreadable.

“I will. I know we’ll be okay, my love. We’re strong enough to get through this.” She tried to sound confident, but the doubt leaked through, barely disguised.

“You should go. You’ll miss your flight.” Caitlyn deflected.

She didn’t want to give up on them. But she didn’t want to give Maddie false hope either.

“Right,” Maddie said softly, disappointed. She rose on her toes and kissed Caitlyn’s cheek. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Safe trip,” Caitlyn offered.

And just like that, she was gone.

The relief that swept over her the moment Maddie disappeared from sight unsettled her. It couldn’t be a good sign. Right?

Caitlyn just needed time. That was all. Time to figure out what she wanted. What she hoped for. Why she felt like she didn’t belong in a life she had chosen. She returned home feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

She was ready to face herself. Because if she didn’t, she might ruin not just her own life, but others too. And she didn’t want to make that mistake. Not again. She wanted to be honest. Truly honest. But that was easier said than done.

Her mind felt like a cluttered room. Overfilled, overheated, impossible to navigate. Just looking at it was exhausting. Like standing at the foot of a mountain you had to climb. Her thoughts turned to Violet. As they always did, way too often to ignore. Something was wrong.

They had barely spoken since the disastrous night of the party. Vi’s texts were short. One-word answers. Cold. Distant. Barely there. She was pulling away. Like she didn’t want to be part of Caitlyn’s life anymore. She was slipping through her fingers like water. And Caitlyn couldn’t bear it.

She could either let go, or fight.

But the idea of losing her, after just getting her back? She couldn’t accept that.

The years hadn’t changed anything. No amount of time could. Vi still meant everything. She was a part of her. A piece she couldn’t detach. A part she loved. A part she clung to, like a hold on a cliffside. She couldn’t let go. Not without answers. Not without understanding. She couldn’t live with the mystery of Violet Lane any longer.

She had lingered too long in this limbo, halfway between past and future. She couldn’t stay trapped in this lonely in-between. It had gone on for too long. Her balance was starting to slip. Soon, she’d have to fall. One side or the other. She didn’t fully grasp what it would mean. She just knew she had to clear the fog between them. Once and for all.

She felt it deep down. Vi was avoiding her. Avoiding contact. Avoiding them. It hurt. But Caitlyn wouldn’t let her go. Not like that. Not ever.

She packed a bag. Filled it with toiletries, clothes. Everything she’d need for a long stay. She didn’t know how long it would take, but she would take every minute necessary. She would fix this.

She hit the road, a fierce flame burning in her chest. A resolve so strong it could break stone. Cut through diamond. Move mountains.

It was time.

******

She arrived at Vi’s house just after noon.

Her determination was still intact. But now that she was standing on Vi’s soil, it came laced with nerves. She was close enough to see her. Close enough to feel how far she really was. She stepped out of the car and walked slowly to the front door. Two steady knocks, though her fingers trembled slightly.

When Vi opened, her body recoiled. Eyes wide. Then, in the next second, a shift. Her brows pulled together, lips tightening into a line, features hardening. The sight made Caitlyn feel cold.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone matched the chill Caitlyn felt inside.

“Hello to you too,” Caitlyn bit back, a flash sharper than she intended.

“Yeah… sorry. Hi.” Vi shook her head, suddenly sheepish. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.” Caitlyn let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you told me once I could visit when I got tired of the city. So… here I am.” A nervous chuckle.

Vi didn’t smile. Didn’t move. It stung.

Vi’s eyes flicked over her face, bright and unreadable, blue-grey and sharp in the sunlight. Her freckles stood out more now, kissed by the summer. She looked more beautiful than Caitlyn remembered. Which felt impossible. But her posture was closed off, rigid, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Well… I’m kinda busy right now, so…” Vi scratched her head, a useless gesture to hide her discomfort.

“I can wait,” Caitlyn said firmly. “I’m not in a rush. I can stay for a while.”

Vi blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Caitlyn never pushed. But some things were worth pushing for. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Alright, then,” Vi drawled, still wide-eyed. She opened the door. “I’ve got a lot of work the next few days, but… feel free to enjoy the house.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Caitlyn smiled, sincere, soft.

Vi’s face twitched. A tiny, involuntary smile cracked through. Just for a second.

“I’ll grab my stuff,” Caitlyn offered.

“Oh— let me.” Vi rushed toward her car to help. She lifted the suitcase from the trunk while Caitlyn followed her inside.

“There’s a guest room upstairs. Powder and Ekko stayed there. I’ll get you some clean sheets.” Her voice was low, mechanical.

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Vi.” Caitlyn looked at her. Really looked. Searching for a sign. A fracture. Anything to tell her she still had a chance.

Vi met her gaze for a moment. Inhaled sharply. And looked away.

“Yeah, no — no problem.” She cleared her throat.

Caitlyn smiled again, just a little. She was adorable when she was awkward. And excruciatingly hot.

Vi opened a closet and laid the sheets at the end of the bed.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll let you settle in. There’s food in the fridge, coffee machine’s there, and…” She trailed off. “I’ll be in the workshop. If you need anything.”

“Okay.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Caitlyn was left in silence with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. This would take patience. But she had plenty.

The afternoon dragged on, slow and quiet. Caitlyn ate alone in the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea, wandered through Vi’s library in search of a book. She took a long walk around the lake.

Last time she’d done this, Vi had been beside her, hands deep in her pockets, throwing her those unexpected, boyish glances full of mischief and light.

She would find her again. The old Vi. The real one. The one with the lopsided smile and the loud laugh. The one who looked at her. Really looked.

She’d bring her back.

By the time the sun was setting, Vi returned to the house. Caitlyn was curled on the couch with her book. She looked up when she heard the door. Vi gave her a stiff nod. Walked to the kitchen. Made herself a sandwich. Didn’t say a word. Caitlyn watched her in silence.

Once Vi was done eating, she turned around. “I’m gonna shower and crash early. I’m wiped,” she said.

“Okay,” Caitlyn replied gently.

“Goodnight,” Vi muttered, already halfway up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Vi…” Caitlyn whispered, to no one.

She didn’t see her again that night. And even though she’d known this wouldn’t be easy, right now,
it felt impossible.

******

Caitlyn woke early the next morning. Sleep had evaded her until the late hours of the night. Knowing Vi was just across the hall, so close, and yet so far; had tormented her for hours. She could have seen her, touched her if she wanted to. But it felt like Vi was a million miles away.

She had no idea how to reach her. She still hoped to do it gently, without pushing, without forcing. But she was beginning to doubt the process. Doubt herself. That doubt deepened when she headed downstairs. Breakfast was already waiting on the table. Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs. Like Vi hadn’t known what she’d want, so she’d made it all. Just in case. Just to please her. It was so like her. Caitlyn’s chest tightened. It was a start, she thought.

She ate in silence, chewing slowly, trying to find a plan. Some strategy. Some way in. Afterwards, she decided to go for a run around the lake. She needed to move. To release the tension crawling beneath her skin. The view was stunning. She followed a small trail that cut through the woods before curving back along the shore. It helped a little. It felt clean. Like breathing again after holding your breath too long. She jogged back to the house, showered, got dressed. By the time she returned to the patio, book in hand, it was almost noon.

She had just settled into one of the cushioned chairs when Vi’s truck rolled up.

Vi walked toward her slowly.

“Hey,” she said, soft.

“Hey,” Caitlyn replied in the same tone.

“How was your morning?” Vi asked, eyes flicking away quickly.

“It was good. I ran around the lake. The air felt amazing,” Caitlyn said, a quiet grin tugging at her lips.

“Cool.” Vi nodded. “I’m gonna make lunch. If you wanna… eat together.” She shrugged.

Caitlyn beamed. “I’d love to.”

Vi gave her that crooked smile. The one Caitlyn used to crave like oxygen and her head spun.

She followed Vi into the kitchen and sat down, watching her move around the space. Vi didn’t speak while she cooked, and Caitlyn didn’t dare to break the fragile peace settling between them. She made her famous spaghetti. And with it came memories.

The first time Vi cooked for her, in her old apartment. Joking about “treating her to death.” Mocking her fear of salt. The bright expression she wore when she’d served the plate. Vi could make any dark room feel warm. Caitlyn’s eyes stung.

She remembered how Vi had tried to teach her some basic recipes after that. How she’d failed. And how, secretly, she’d never really wanted to succeed. Because being cooked for, by Vi, made her feel safe. Loved. Chosen.

They sat across from each other, eating in silence.

“Mmh…” Caitlyn hummed. “Still as good as always.”

Vi’s gorgeous eyes flicked up to meet hers, briefly, before dropping again. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Caitlyn could barely hold herself together.

“I need to head into town this afternoon,” Vi said suddenly. “Pick up some parts. I might not be back for dinner. But I made enough… there’s leftovers.”

“Okay,” Caitlyn said, too quiet.

One step forward, two steps back.

They finished eating in silence. Caitlyn stared at her plate, swallowing the emotion burning her throat. Don’t cry now. Be strong. You can do this. A mantra. A shield.

Vi cleaned the table and washed the dishes. Caitlyn didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just breathed, but barely. Then Vi walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. She turned back, hesitated.

“I’ll see you tonight, Cait.”

She saw the pain in Caitlyn’s eyes, and it cracked something in her face.

Caitlyn couldn’t answer. If she opened her mouth, it would all come out. So she just nodded, turned back to the table and closed her eyes, bracing for the knife to fall.

Vi’s sigh came next, low, ragged; and it echoed through her, sharp and endless. She could feel Vi’s gaze on her. Heavy. Charged. Scorching.

Then — the sound of the handle turning. The door closing.

And silence.

Caitlyn broke. The sobs came suddenly, violent, uncontrolled, cracking through her like thunder. She couldn’t stop them. Didn’t try. She cried for minutes. Or hours.

The grief was unbearable. Like something sharp and twisted was clawing at her from the inside
cutting her open again and again. The loss clung to her organs like a disease that had no name.

She had lost her. She could feel it, deep and hard and real. The loss was no longer theoretical. It had settled inside her. A sickness in her chest. A weight she couldn’t lift.

She drifted through the house like a ghost. Wandering from room to room. Crying again. Then again.
Then just… staring. At one point, she caught herself walking toward Vi’s bedroom. Just to smell her pillow. To breathe her in. To hold something that still carried her warmth. She stopped just before crossing the line.

She was losing her mind. Turning into someone she didn’t recognize. A desperate, broken thing. Maybe she never should’ve come. Maybe this had been a mistake from the start. Maybe she should just pack her things and leave. Slip away. Disappear.

But that would be giving up. That would mean surrendering. And Caitlyn hadn’t come all this way to surrender. She had been so sure, just days ago, that patience would be enough. That care would open the doors.

But she hadn’t anticipated how closed off Vi would be. How far gone she seemed. How cold her silence could feel. This wasn’t the Vi she remembered. Not the woman who used to make her laugh, who used to hold her like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Not the girl who’d made brownies just to see her smile. Not the soul who’d once looked at her like she was everything.

Her walls were thick as reinforced concrete, solid, cold and unmoving. And Caitlyn wasn’t sure what was worse: that they might never crack, or what might break free if they did.

She pressed her hands to her face. Her breathing slowed. Her tears dried on her cheeks.

She had to get it together. She was stronger than this. And Vi… Vi was still worth it. Of that, she had no doubt.

If Vi didn’t want to talk… then Caitlyn would make her. There was a reason for her distance. A reason for the silence.

And Caitlyn wouldn’t leave without hearing it.

******

When Vi finally came back home, it was already dark. She opened the door, and there was Caitlyn. Perched on the back of the couch, one leg folded up, the other grounded, arms crossed tight over her chest. Waiting.

Vi blinked. Her posture faltered for a split second, then reset and went back to cold and guarded.

“Hello,” she muttered.

And before Caitlyn could respond:

“I’m gonna take a shower real quick. I’ll grab a bite later.” She spoke fast, too fast, and disappeared up the stairs.

Caitlyn exhaled loudly through her nose, eyes closed in frustration. Her grief had mutated over the course of the day. Now, it simmered. Low. Hot. Controlled rage. She waited, her leg bouncing with quiet fury.

Vi came down eventually. Her hair was still damp, a white towel hooked loosely around her neck. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Watched Caitlyn for a moment. Then, she turned toward the kitchen.

“Did you eat? I think I’ll make some—”

“Vi.” Her name cracked the air. Loud, rough, definitive.

Vi froze.

Body turned halfway, caught between flight and confrontation. She looked back over her shoulder. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Caitlyn’s voice was clear. Steady. “This is not what I came here for.”

Vi turned fully, her stance sharpening, a flicker of challenge sparking in her eyes.

“Then maybe you should go,” she said. Her voice was calm. Dangerously so. A knife made of ice.

It hurt, but Caitlyn didn’t flinch.

“I won’t.” Her voice was laced with fire now.

Vi blinked. A slight widening of her eyes. Surprise. Just for a moment.

“Why?” she asked, her tone narrowing, sharpening like a blade.

“Do you really want me to?”

Silence.

Vi sighed, deep and exhausted, and finally looked away.

She walked past the couch, tossing the towel onto a chair with more force than needed. Her hands gripped the back of the sofa so hard her knuckles turned white. Shoulders tense. She kept her distance, but Caitlyn could feel the tension vibrating off her skin.

“Now that we’ve established I’m not going anywhere,” Caitlyn said, “can we talk?”

Vi scoffed. “What do you wanna talk about, huh?” she snapped, exasperation rising like steam.

Caitlyn didn’t blink.

“I came here to be with you. To make up for lost time. To get back what we had.”

Her voice softened on the last sentence. A break in the steel.

Vi rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, please, Cait.”

She stood tall again, squaring her stance like she was about to take a punch.

“I’m not playing that game anymore.”

“Oh, this is a game to you?” Caitlyn let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” Vi bit back. “This… this dance we keep doing? It’s exhausting, okay?” She gestured between them with frustration.

She breathed hard. Once. Twice. Then:

“So just tell me what you want.”

Caitlyn stared at her. Took a breath. And let it out.

“Where were you for five years?” The question slipped from her lips like it had been waiting a hundred years to be spoken.

It hit Vi like a cold slap. She exhaled sharply. Her shoulders dropped.

“Jail.” The word was flat. Bare. Brutal.

Caitlyn blinked.

“Jail?” Her brows climbed. “What kind of jail doesn’t let you call? Or write? Or have visitors? You weren’t even charged with anything. What kind of place was that?”

Vi’s eyes fell to the floor. She swallowed.

“The remote kind,” she muttered. “Different. Not the kind you’ve ever heard of.”

Her voice was low. Quiet. Like saying too much might break something.

Caitlyn couldn’t take her eyes off her. A hard swallow caught in her throat.

“What did they do to you?” she asked, barely a whisper.

Vi’s lips curled, bitter. “I had a… special treatment.” She looked like she’d just swallowed poison.

Caitlyn’s stomach turned.

God. What the fuck did they do to her? Caitlyn felt bile rise in her throat. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Not yet.

“When did you get out?”

“Last September.” She replied like the words weighed her down.

“Ten months ago…” The words were shaky on her lips. “And you never came to find me.”

“No.”

“Were you planning to?”

“No.”

Silence.

“Then why did I see you?”

Vi frowned. “When?”

But as soon as she asked, she closed her eyes. Tight. Like she realized too late what she’d given away.

Caitlyn froze.

“You did it more than once… didn’t you?”

Stillness.

Silence had settled between them like a ritual. A cruel one. And Caitlyn hated it.  Vi glanced up from beneath her lashes, slow, hesitant. No words. Just a look. But it said everything. A confession wrapped in quiet.

“I can’t believe it…” Caitlyn breathed. “You followed me for God knows how long… and never came to me?” Her voice was rising. Cracking.

“It’s not… I didn’t—” Vi faltered.

“Why?” Caitlyn shouted now.

“Because I thought it was the best thing to do!” Vi snapped back.

“The fuck, Vi? In what world was that the best thing to do?”

Caitlyn was standing now. Arms flung at her sides, rage finally unfurling.

“Shit, Cait! Don’t act like you’re all innocent now.” She snapped, voice rough with tension.

“What does that mean?!”

This wasn’t a conversation anymore. It had turned into something raw, heated and loud. A real fight.  The first one they ever had. Like years of buried tension finally coming undone, all at once, in one blinding, brutal moment.

“Aren’t you tired of this? How long are we gonna keep pretending, Caitlyn?” Vi yelled. “I’m not doing this anymore. You hear me? I’m done. If you’re so comfortable living wrapped up in convenient lies, then fine. Suit yourself.”

It was the first time she’d ever yelled at her. And it was torture. But at the same time, Caitlyn felt a strange kind of relief… because she was talking. Finally.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Vi,” she shot back, voice sharp, eyes burning.

“Stop it!” Vi snapped. “You wanna know what I think?” Her lips were tight, her jaw set.  “I think you don’t know what you want.”

“That’s not true…” Caitlyn breathed. But her words had no force. They were shapeless. Even she was beginning to doubt them.

“Either that,” Vi continued, “or you know exactly what you want. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“Oh, I think you’re the scared one,” Caitlyn shouted. “You were the one who avoided me. You’re the one who always deflects when things get too hard. You can’t open up, Vi! You never do. You just keep running away.”

Vi’s expression darkened.

“You’ve got some balls,” she said, voice low and rough, “demanding vulnerability from me like that.” Her stare was unwavering. “When were you ever able to do that yourself?” She stepped forward slightly. “Why do you keep asking me to give you something you never gave me?” Then lower, almost like a confession, “You always protected yourself. Just like I did.”

Caitlyn’s chest rose and fell, her fists clenched.

“I have been nothing but honest with you!”

“I know,” Vi said quietly. Calmly.

Caitlyn was breathing hard now, fury rising. Or maybe pain. Maybe both. Probably both.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” she said, every word shaking. “And I want a real answer, for once.” Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Vi groaned and dragged her hand roughly through her hair.

“Caitlyn, please…”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Answer me!”

“Probably for the same reason you left me alone on that beach after kissing me senseless!” Vi’s voice exploded. “The same reason you avoided me for days after! The same reason you always touched me and bailed the second it got too intense! Does that jog your memory?!”

The words sliced through the air like a whip cracking. Echoing. Final.

Caitlyn stood frozen. She was stunned. She hadn’t seen it coming. A choked, nervous laugh escaped her, broken, unbelieving. She started pacing like she couldn’t contain the heat inside her skin. When she stopped and turned to face Vi, her voice was strained. Tight. Cold.

“That’s not fair. You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

Vi recoiled. Pain rippled through her like a tremor. Her features twisted, like the words had struck her clean in the gut.

The moment Caitlyn saw it, she knew. That was a low blow. The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Wished she could pull them back. Taste the bitterness on her tongue and swallow them down. But it was too late.

She froze again, the only motion in the room the rise and fall of her chest. Breath ragged. Body still.

Vi looked defeated. Shoulders slumped. The shimmer in her eyes, that vibrant spark Caitlyn loved so much, had dimmed. Like someone had flicked the switch off.

“You’re right,” Vi said at last. Her voice was dry. “I knew.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “I always knew. But you wanna know the difference between you and me?”

She paused. Just long enough to reclaim a sliver of composure. A fraction of strength.

“I never lied to myself.” She swallowed, voice rasping against her throat.

“Sure, I never said anything. I knew it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. You were always going to be you — Caitlyn Kiramman. And I was always going to be... me.”

Her voice lowered. Pain crept in like winter air.

“Reality was coming for us anyway.”

She cleared her throat, her gaze locking with Caitlyn’s, bare, unblinking.  “But at least I was honest.” Her voice was hoarse.

Then, slowly, she tilted her head — not mockingly, not accusing — just enough to look at Caitlyn sideways with her piercing eyes. “Were you?”

Caitlyn’s mouth opened, then closed. No sound, just breath. Vi waited. Not judging. Just waiting.

“I…” Caitlyn started, weakly.

“I wasn’t.” The words came out in a single breath.

Vi blinked. Her stance shifted. She hadn’t expected her to admit it so easily.

“You… you were right.” Caitlyn’s voice cracked. “I was scared.”

Vi’s eyes softened instantly, melting like liquid metal, clear and bright as water, gentle and trembling.

“I was too,” she murmured.

Caitlyn shook. Her entire body trembled under the weight of what had just been said.

“I still am,” she whispered.

Vi took a slow step toward her. Just one. Then stopped.

“Me too.”

A flicker of a smile danced between them. The kind that carried both comfort and devastation.

They had said so much with only a handful of words. The rest lingered in the air between them. Waiting to swallow them whole. Their eyes stayed locked, irises glued to the other’s light.

“What do you want, Caitlyn?” Vi broke the silence with a voice like velvet.

“I want…” Her breath hitched. The words caught in her throat.

“I want the Vi I knew,” she whispered. “I want her back.”

“You can’t,” Vi said faintly. “She’s dead. I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Caitlyn’s voice was quiet, steady. “I saw her. I see her now.”

Vi took a step closer. Then another. She said nothing.

So Caitlyn spoke.

“I want you to stop holding back.” Her voice was trembling, but certain. “I want you. All of you. Unfiltered. Unrestrained.”

The words lifted from her chest like a breath she hadn’t taken in ages. She had carried them for so long. Now, finally, they were free. It felt like shedding chains.

Something shifted in Vi’s eyes. Suddenly, the softness disappeared. She stared at Caitlyn like a hunter watching her prey, hungry and dangerous. The menacing gleam in her eyes made the air thinner, the moment sharper.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she murmured. Her voice was low, thunder before the storm.

She moved closer. Fluid. Feline. Every step deliberate.

Caitlyn backed up instinctively, until her spine met the wall. Vi didn’t stop. She raised both arms and pressed her palms to the wall, caging Caitlyn in. One hand on either side of her face.

Caitlyn’s heart was pounding so loud it drowned the world out. Blood roared in her ears. Her breath hitched again, caught somewhere between chest and lips.

Vi leaned in. Slow. Silent. Her lips brushed the skin just beneath Caitlyn’s ear — featherlight. Caitlyn felt the cool touch of Vi’s piercing, the burn of her breath. A shiver ripped down her spine.  Vi’s mouth ghosted over her skin. No sound. Just fire.

Caitlyn gasped, the sound slipping free before she could stop it. It was almost nothing, and yet somehow, already too much.

“Tell me to stop,” Vi whispered. It wasn’t a threat. Or a warning. It was a plea.

But Caitlyn couldn’t speak. Her hands were braced against the wall. She couldn’t move. And she didn’t want to.

Vi’s lips kept trailing down, slow and languid, until they reached the crook of her neck. She pressed a kiss there. Gentle, lingering, devastating. Nothing on earth could compare to that feeling. Caitlyn bit down on the moan rising in her throat.

Every touch, every flicker of sensation, shot straight to her core. She was already soaked. If just this had that kind of effect on her, she couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if they both truly let go.

And God, she wanted it. Desperately.

Vi moved again, lips dragging languidly up Caitlyn’s neck, across her jaw.

“Cait,” she murmured, aching, fragile.

The sound made Caitlyn moan softly. She couldn’t hold it back.

Vi kissed along her jawline, slow and tender, up to her chin. Her lips parted. She kissed her there, unhurried and soft, like she’d been waiting a lifetime. Caitlyn was aching. Craving her, needing more.

“Tell me to stop,” Vi whispered again, this time more urgently.

Her mouth traced the edge of Caitlyn’s lips. Caitlyn hissed, “Fuck.”

Caitlyn had never been more turned on in her life. The sliver of space between them felt like the edge of a canyon, and she was drawn to the drop. Desperate to fall. Vi’s heat pulsed against her skin, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing had really happened. And yet, she was already coming undone.

Vi pressed kisses across her cheeks, her eyelids, her brow, her nose… and each time, she whispered:

“What are you doing…”

“Tell me to stop.”

“Tell me to stop…”

“Violet,” Caitlyn gasped.

And it made her freeze. Vi pulled back, just an inch. Her eyes searched Caitlyn’s, wide, open, vulnerable. She was ready to hear it. Ready to be pushed away.

But Caitlyn reached up. Her hands cupped Vi’s face, thumbs brushing the tattoo on her cheek.
Her gaze flicked between Vi’s mesmerizing eyes and her mouthwatering lips, trembling with the weight of what she was about to say.

“Don’t stop.”

It took Vi a second to register the words. Caitlyn could feel her trembling, and for a moment, time held its breath.

Then, just as hesitantly as before, Vi leaned in again. And when her lips finally closed on Caitlyn’s, everything sped up. She tasted so good it hurt. Caitlyn met her mouth hungrily, deepening the kiss in a breathless sync.

Vi’s body pressed into hers, and the sensation was instant addiction. Both of them opened at the same time, and Caitlyn licked into her mouth like she was dying of thirst. Vi moaned into the kiss, and Caitlyn devoured the sound. She sucked gently on the scar of her upper lip. Her hands gripped the back of Vi’s neck, pulling her impossibly close, needing her to melt inside her.

It really felt like jumping off a cliff. Except it happened on a loop. She kept reliving the thrill of the fall, again and again and again, like a tape stuck on rewind.

She felt Vi’s hands close around her hips and her knees faltered slightly. But Vi was holding her. She slid one thigh between Caitlyn’s legs, and the pressure against her center made her head reel. Vi’s calloused hands, warm and reverent, glided up her sides, under her shirt, and a broken sound spilled from Caitlyn’s lips. Her thumbs brushed just beneath her bra, skating along the swell of her breasts, palms searing against her ribs.

Their lips and tongues kept dancing — hot, messy, starving — like they were incapable of parting. They breathed each other in, sipped from each other’s mouths like promises. Caitlyn ground down on Vi’s thigh, irrepressible. The friction was glorious, but nowhere near enough.

She fumbled for the hem of Vi’s T-shirt and tugged. Vi lifted her arms, pulling away just long enough to let Caitlyn remove it. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Perfect.

Her breasts were perfect too. Round, full, with pink, erect nipples. Her abs looked carved from marble. Caitlyn stared, awestruck. Vi let her, quietly stroking her nipples through her bra, and Caitlyn let out a low, fractured moan at the contact.

She pulled her own shirt over her head, and Vi looked at her like she was witnessing something sacred. It was overwhelming, being seen like this. But the fact that it was Violet undid her completely.

Caitlyn’s hands slid up her sculpted arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. She pressed a kiss to her collarbone, felt her shudder, heard her gasp. Vi reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and slid it off.

Vi stared, pupils so wide they swallowed the blue. She looked like she wanted to devour her. And Caitlyn would gladly let her.

She cupped Vi’s breasts, thumbs teasing, fingers rolling, playing with her nipples. Vi groaned, dragging her back into a kiss so bruising Caitlyn could barely breathe. Their bare skin collided, a bolt of heat shot between them and they moaned in perfect synchrony. Caitlyn ground harder into Vi’s thigh, her soaked panties clinging to her.

Everything was fire. Frantic, raw, feral. Caitlyn’s body was a blaze. She was drenched in want, like oil, and Vi was the match. Her mouth, her hands, her presence. Everything she touched, she set alight.

They couldn’t slow down now. Urgency bloomed like wildfire.

Vi’s mouth left hers, trailing fire down her neck. Licking and sucking and teasing. She lingered around her breasts, circling the peaks without touching, until Caitlyn’s back arched with need. Her fingers tangled in Vi’s hair, yanking, clawing, desperate. She could barely breathe. Her skin was burning, her thighs shaking. It was all Vi — hands, mouth, breath, hair. Vi, Vi, Vi.

Her walls clenched around nothing. Pleasure pulsed through her in waves, aching and insistent.

When Vi finally took her nipple in her mouth, Caitlyn whimpered helplessly. She sucked it gently at first, then flicked her tongue. Slow, then faster, until Caitlyn was writhing against her. Grinding. Seeking. Drenched.

Vi kept moving down. Tasting her stomach, her hipbone, the softest skin just beneath her waistband.

And then, suddenly, like she couldn’t take one second more, she unbuckled Caitlyn’s pants, dragged them down with her underwear, and pulled them off.

Caitlyn stood naked before her, flushed and panting, her skin glowing with desire. She looked at her with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving, gaze smoldering.

Vi didn’t waste time. She spread Caitlyn’s legs gently, reverently, and leaned in, pressing open mouthed kisses against her clit. Caitlyn moaned without restraint.

Again, Vi kissed her; her clit, her slick slit, the trembling skin of her inner thighs.

The first flat stroke of her tongue along her center cracked her open.

 “Oh God,” Caitlyn gasped. Vi groaned against her, the vibration sinking into her bones.

She repeated the motion. Slow, then deeper, circling her clit, gliding between her folds, her moans growing with each taste. Her tongue, wet and scorching, lapped her up like salvation. Caitlyn began to move against her mouth, shameless and hungry, chasing the friction.

When Vi’s tongue slid into her, licking deep, swirling around her entrance, Caitlyn choked on another whimper. Vi’s hands gripped her ass, pulling her closer, guiding her rhythm, devouring her whole.

The pleasure curled in her gut, sharp and fast, bubbling toward the brink.

 “Don’t stop... Vi, I’m— I’m going to—” she cried, her voice high and shaking.

It made Vi wilder. More relentless. She sucked her clit, flicked her tongue, let her ride it out.

“Fuck... God... Vi...” Caitlyn moaned so loudly she barely recognized her own voice.

And then it hit. The peak, the storm, the wave crashing through her. Her orgasm ripped her open, shattering everything. For a second, there was no time, no pain, no world. The earth was spinning around Vi’s mouth on her cunt, her slick folds, her swollen clit. Every lick sent shockwaves so deep her toes curled and her sanity slipped.

Vi held her through it all, easing the pace, kissing her softly now, avoiding the most sensitive places with exquisite care.

Caitlyn panted, eyes closed. She was weightless. Scorched. Unmade.

Vi rose, placing tender kisses along her skin as she made her way up — stomach, ribs, chest, collarbone — until she was face to face again. Her arms wrapped around Caitlyn’s waist, her fingers drawing gentle lines up and down her spine. Grounding her.

Her lips and chin were wet with Caitlyn’s arousal. Caitlyn kissed her, deep, tasting herself on her tongue, and the hunger roared back, sharp and immediate. Addictive. It was like a drug. One hit only left her craving more.

 “Take me to bed.” she murmured against her lips.

Vi nodded. Eagerly.

She slipped Caitlyn’s arms around her neck, slid her hands beneath her thighs, and lifted her with effortless strength. Caitlyn clung to her, pressing kisses along her neck, her cheek, her jaw, her temple, her mouth — everywhere. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to.

When her lips brushed that sensitive spot below Vi’s ear, Vi froze mid-step, her breath catching, her fingers flexing against Caitlyn’s skin. She groaned, kissed her collarbone frantically; and carried her on, upstairs, heart hammering, body on fire.

They ended up in Vi’s bedroom. She laid Caitlyn down like she might break if handled too roughly. Caitlyn’s hands were already tugging at the waistband of Vi’s sweatshorts, desperate to feel her. All of her. She peeled them down, underwear and all, in one swift motion.

Vi climbed over her, settling between her thighs, her bare body pressing flush against Caitlyn’s. Heaven. Their lips found each other again, starved. Caitlyn’s hands roamed Vi’s back, her nails dragging softly down her skin, her need to pull her closer, to fuse them together, growing unbearable.

But still — not enough.

Vi’s fingers dipped between her legs, sliding through her soaked slit with no hesitation.

 “Yes,” Caitlyn moaned, breathless.

Vi’s smile ghosted against her lips, just before two fingers plunged into her without warning.

 “Ah—” Caitlyn cried out, hips jerking up into the sensation.

 “You feel so good, Caitlyn,” Vi whispered against her ear, and somehow it made everything worse.

Her fingers moved — slow, then faster, pushing in deep, dragging pleasure from her with each stroke. Vi kissed her again, swallowing every broken sound Caitlyn let out. One hand still worked inside her, the other cupped her breast, kneading, pinching her nipple with teasing fingertips.

She curled her fingers just right, palm circling her clit with practiced precision. Caitlyn’s breath stuttered. She was full, her nerves lit like wires, every inch of her vibrating with the rhythm. Sweat slicked their skin. The sounds — wet, obscene, desperate — filled the air. Vi’s scent was everywhere. The heat of her. The weight. The rhythm.

 “Violet,” Caitlyn gasped into her mouth.

Vi faltered, just barely, then looked at her, eyes dark and glassy.

 “Say that again,” she rasped.

 “Violet,” Caitlyn repeated, softer, seductive.

 “Fuck,” Vi groaned, fucking her harder.

 “Again,” she demanded, her stare unblinking.

 “Violet. Violet. Violet.” Caitlyn chanted, her voice trembling, wrecked.

Vi lost it. She moaned, raw, hungry. Caitlyn wasn’t even touching her.

 “I’m coming, Violet…” Caitlyn whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.

 “Look at me,” Vi pleaded.

Caitlyn opened her eyes… and fell.

Vi’s eyes were locked on hers, wild, overwhelmed. The vision of her, eyes dark with hunger, made her fall even harder — the release detonated like a thousand fireworks blooming in her belly, lighting her up from the inside out. The orgasm ripped through her like fire through dry grass. Violent. Unstoppable. Brilliant. She cried out as her body clenched, over and over, waves crashing, her cunt spasming around Vi’s fingers, her whole self unraveling.

She was in a trance, transported to another dimension where pleasures of the flesh ruled over everything. It wasn’t just sex. It was earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-altering — not because of the act alone, but because it was her. Because Caitlyn had been thinking about it for eight long years, fighting hard to bury that desire in some quiet, hidden corner of her body.

And because of the raw, searing chemistry between their bodies, their hearts, their souls. Like they were made for each other. Created for one purpose only: to meet, to merge, to burn.

Sometimes there was no need for an explanation. The fusion of two people so different, shaped by opposite worlds, and yet, together, they worked so naturally. So effortlessly. They collided with raw, unfiltered desire, their bodies answering questions their mouths had never dared to ask. Leaving them coming together; crying out each other’s name, limbs entangled, breaths tangled. It was sex. But it was also something else. Something pure. Transcendent. Desire turned holy. Intimacy made sacred.

They lay there, foreheads touching, breath mingled. Caitlyn’s arms tightened around Vi’s back, stroking gently, as Vi pressed a hand flat between her breasts, just to feel her heart under warm skin.

Then Vi kissed her again. A soul-stirring kiss. So gentle, so tender it broke her open. Like a warm breeze after the storm. A lullaby in the dark. A whispered promise in the night.

The world fell quiet. The universe folded inward.

Chapter Text

Cigarettes After Sex

“Whispered something in your ear
It was a perverted thing to say
But I said it anyway
Made you smile & look away

Nothing's gonna hurt you baby
As long as you're with me you'll be just fine
Nothing's gonna hurt you baby
Nothing's gonna take you from my side”

July 2020

Caitlyn Kiramman was under her. She had moaned her name, cried out under her touch, trembled in her arms. And now, Vi was kissing her like her lips were coated with all the love, all the devotion and tenderness she felt for her—like lipstick. Like she was trying to leave a mark, to pour every drop of it into Caitlyn’s hot mouth.

She hoped it would say everything she couldn’t.

Caitlyn’s skin was so soft, it made Vi’s rough, calloused hands feel out of place. Undeserving. The contrast of her scarred skin against a body so pure, so perfect made her chest ache.

But there was nothing in this world that could make her stop. Because Caitlyn wanted it. And she was clearly enjoying it. Vi didn’t need more in that moment. All she could feel was Caitlyn’s hands on her back, her breasts pressed to hers, her delicious lips and that sweet breath exhaled into her mouth.

She pulled back to look at her. There was a soft gleam in Caitlyn’s blue eyes. An emotion so deep, it knocked the air from Vi’s lungs. She cupped her cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over her skin.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

Caitlyn smiled and whispered, “More than okay.”

Vi returned the smile. “Good,” she breathed.

She shifted onto her side and placed a hand on Caitlyn’s hip. She couldn’t stop touching her. She feared she might vanish if she didn’t.

Caitlyn turned to face her. Her gaze was locked on her and her fingers traced a path along her neck, her collarbone, over her breasts. Vi shivered, closing her eyes to savor the contact. It felt heavenly. Worth every struggle, every torture, every ounce of hell she’d endured.

Caitlyn pressed a hand to her shoulder, gently coaxing her to lie on her back. Vi complied without thought. She was utterly powerless when it came to her. She would give her anything without question.

Her touch resumed, featherlight across her chest, down her stomach, along her ribs, tracing the silk-smooth skin just above her mound. Then came the heat of her mouth at Vi’s neck, and her tongue sliding all the way to her ear.

Then—

“Violet… I think you forgot to breathe, love…” Her sensual voice melted into her ear.

Vi let out a shaky exhale she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Love.

“I did forget, didn’t I?” She chuckled, a tremor in her voice.

Caitlyn let out a soft, delighted laugh.

“That’s okay. I’ll remind you.”

She continued her gentle exploration, and Vi tried—tried—to breathe through it. Caitlyn’s lips were everywhere. On her jaw. Her collarbone. Her mouth. And her hand…

Vi was panting now. Her pussy ached with need. She was scared. But she would never stop it. Caitlyn would be the first to touch her and Vi would let her. Any day. Always. It made her nervous, but the liquid need pulsing between her legs was melting the fear away.

When Caitlyn’s fingers finally slid along her slit, a moan tore from Vi’s throat. She’d never felt anything like this. Her hips bucked instinctively, craving more.

Caitlyn’s touch was confident; slow circles, long strokes. Exploring her. Knowing her.

“Oh fuck…” Vi whimpered.

Then, softly, her fingers teased her entrance. Her palm moving in steady, perfect pressure over her clit. Vi thought she’d come undone then and there, like a fucking virgin.

Then Caitlyn slid two fingers inside her, curling them in just the right way. At the same time, her mouth found Vi’s nipple and licked and sucked and kissed—and it was bliss. Pure, impossible bliss.

Vi’s moans echoed against the bedroom walls. Raw, uncontrollable. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried.

“I love the way you sound,” Caitlyn moaned against her ear. And it undid her even more.

“Cait… I’m not…I’m not gonna last long if you… if you keep…” Vi’s voice broke.

She was whining, embarrassed by how easily Caitlyn unraveled her. The effect the woman had on her was ridiculous. But it was the truth. She could already feel the peak sprinting through her lower belly, wild and inevitable.

“Let go, Violet. I’ve got you,” Caitlyn whispered back, her voice soaked in need.

And that was it.

Vi cried out, her orgasm crashing through her like a wave made of fire. Her body arched, clenched, shook with the force of it. Her cunt pulsed around Caitlyn’s fingers, again and again. She’d imagined this moment for eight long years, and it was nothing like she’d dreamed.

It was more. Violent. Beautiful. Devastating.

Her skin was slick with sweat, her breath ragged, as if she’d surfaced from drowning. Her entire body trembled like she’d stood naked in a blizzard, and yet her insides burned. Her desire, her love, her pleasure; it seared like molten iron. Like lava pouring between her thighs.

Caitlyn kissed her deeply. And all Vi could think, over and over, was: I love you. I love you. I love you. I always loved you.

But she didn’t say it. Of course she didn’t.

Caitlyn nestled against her trembling body, the covers pulled over them, her arm resting on Vi’s stomach and her head tucked into her chest. Vi circled her waist with both arms and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

They stayed like that, tangled under the sheets, their bare skin warming one another, fingertips lazily exploring whatever piece of flesh they could reach.

“Can I stay here?” Caitlyn murmured.

“You’re gonna have to fight me if you wanna leave,” Vi whispered, a smile in her voice.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, and the sound made Vi’s chest flutter.

“I don’t think I stand a chance…” she replied warmly. “Never mind. I’ll make do.” She sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment.

She nuzzled deeper into Vi’s chest, her cheek rubbing softly against her skin like she wanted to curl up inside her body. Her arm tightened around Vi’s waist, anchoring her.

And Vi just breathed. She let herself exist in that fragile, suspended moment. It was the closest she had ever come to her wildest dream, the one where Caitlyn was hers. Hers to touch. To kiss. To make love to. It had always felt like a fantasy too dangerous to entertain. Not in this life. Maybe in some alternate timeline, in some parallel dimension. One where Vi hadn’t been so broken. So far from Caitlyn’s world.

Caitlyn’s breathing soon slowed against her skin, gentle, even puffs of air ghosting over her chest. And Vi felt tears prickle behind her eyes. This couldn’t be real. She was going to wake up eventually. Cold. Alone. Back in the dark. She should’ve relaxed. Let herself drift off, cradled by her lover’s warmth. But fear was already creeping in, inching up her spine. What if she had a nightmare? She still did, just not as often. What if she scared her? Or worse…what if she hurt her?

Caitlyn had always been a heavy sleeper. She looked so peaceful now. It hurt Vi to leave her. But the air felt too thin. The space too tight. Carefully, she disentangled their limbs, and the cold struck her instantly. She slipped out of bed and padded across the room to grab her shorts, then crept silently downstairs to retrieve her discarded t-shirt from the couch.

Once dressed, she dug a pack of cigarettes out of a kitchen drawer and stepped onto the porch.

The night air was warm, the sky startlingly clear, stars scattered above like shattered glass. She lit her cigarette and took the first drag, letting it calm her nerves. Then she buried her face in her hands and groaned.

What now?

Nothing had changed. And yet, everything was different.

Sleeping with Caitlyn had been a dream made flesh. And the reality had been even more devastatingly beautiful. She would never be the same. They would never be the same. But what were they now?

Caitlyn was still fucking engaged. Vi was still no one. Still the same broken woman with the trauma, the nightmares, the memories.

But she had touched her. How was she supposed to stop touching her now? How was she meant to go on without kissing her again?

At some point, they’d have to talk about it. Vi dreaded the idea. Maybe she could buy some time. Maybe she could avoid it a little longer. Maybe she could shut her up by fucking her again, again and again, until the only words left were names, whispered against swollen lips.

Vi had begged her. And Caitlyn hadn’t pushed her away. She had asked for it. Vi had heard the desperation in her voice. Had tasted her desire on her tongue. Her fingers were still coated with the ghost of Caitlyn’s walls clenching around them—wet, hot, trembling. She’d never recover from it.

Vi wasn’t a coward. Except when it came to Caitlyn.

She returned inside and sank onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. She hated herself.

Because Caitlyn Kiramman was naked in her bed. And Vi was supposed to be there, holding her. Instead, she was here. A lonely soul and a freezing body in an empty room. Why did she have to be like this?

Well, at least this way, if she woke up drenched in sweat, panicked and gasping after a nightmare, Caitlyn wouldn’t be there to see it. She was protecting her. That’s all. It had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t believe she deserved her. And it was certainly not because Caitlyn belonged to someone else. No, Sir.

It took her hours to fall asleep.

******

Vi woke up early, but the sun was already filtering through the windows. She rubbed her eyes and slowly made her way to the kitchen to fix herself a hot cocoa. She started breakfast. Toasts were crisping, a bowl of fresh strawberries was on the table, alongside the peanut butter and jam. She remembered now…Caitlyn liked her breakfasts sweet.

When the beauty appeared at the top of the stairs, Vi nearly had a stroke. She was wearing one of Vi’s oversized t-shirts and a pair of panties. Nothing else. Vi’s jaw hit the floor. Her eyes dropped to the endless expanse of bare legs, and she blushed so hard she was fairly certain she looked more like a tomato than a human being.

“Good morning,” Caitlyn greeted with a smile that could melt ice.

“Good morning,” Vi coughed, scratching her neck awkwardly. “I, uh… I made breakfast. If you want. I mean—if you’re hungry.”

“I’m starving. Thank you, Violet.” Her eyes were luminous, and hearing her full name spoken in the hush of morning made Vi’s stomach somersault straight up into her throat.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a voice that barely held together.

They sat across from each other and began to eat in silence.

“Hmm,” Caitlyn hummed, her mouth full of strawberry, “this is fantastic.”

Vi couldn’t suppress the wide smile that bloomed on her lips. “It is,” she murmured.

Their smiles were so warm, the morning sun itself felt pale in comparison. The small gap in Caitlyn’s front teeth made Vi want to devour her. Again.

To chase the overwhelming want building in her, Vi stood and started clearing the table. She needed to keep her hands occupied, or she’d end up all over the woman. Come on, Vi. You're not an animal. Keep it in your pants.

For all she knew, it had been a one-time thing. The blush on her cheeks had set up camp and didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. She flew around the kitchen, wiping, rinsing, organizing…until there was nothing left to do.

“Vi?” Caitlyn called softly.

Vi turned, leaning against the counter, gripping its edge so hard her knuckles paled.

“Yeah?”

Caitlyn stood up, eyes glinting with mischief, and walked toward her slowly. She placed her hands on Vi’s hips and leaned in, her voice a whisper of silk.

“You weren’t so shy yesterday, were you?” She kissed her jaw, just below the corner of her mouth. “With your head between my thighs…” An open-mouthed kiss under her ear. “Your tongue inside me…” She nibbled her earlobe.

Heart attack. Imminent.

“You’re going to kill me,” Vi gasped.

“Oh no, darling,” Caitlyn purred. “Maybe just treat you to death.”

“I thought that was my job,” Vi replied with a breathless laugh.

“I want to share. If you want it too.”

“I just… I didn’t… I don’t know what’s allowed,” Vi admitted, her voice trembling.

That made Caitlyn lean back just enough to look at her, one hand threading into Vi’s hair, nails gently scraping her scalp. Her gaze pinned her. Vi was drowning in it. Willingly.

“Everything’s allowed.” Her brow furrowed, intense.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I meant everything I said,” she interrupted firmly. “Stop holding back. It’s too late for that, don’t you think?”

“Is this what you want?” Vi’s voice was fragile. Because she needed to hear it, clearly. And she was terrified of the answer.

“I don’t want to think of anything else.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “As long as I’m here, I want the rest of the world to disappear. I think we deserve that. Don’t you?” she tilted her head, gentle and persuasive.

“I don’t know if I do…” Vi could’ve cried, for how true that sounded.

“Vi… you deserve everything.” Her fingers tightened in her hair, as if the grip could make the words stick.

“What happens when…” She couldn’t finish. When you leave? When you go back to your life, your house, your work, your fiancée…

A sad, watery shimmer clouded Caitlyn’s irises.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was barely there, caught in her throat. She swallowed, blinked back the emotion. “Can we just… can we live this? I need… I need you.” The plea broke from her like a sob.

She was begging, not just for Vi’s body, but for this fragile, precious now. To let the moment be real, even if the world outside refused to wait. To feel nothing but them, like time had paused and the world had slipped quietly out of existence.

And who was Vi to deny her?

She nodded and captured her mouth. Caitlyn let out a high-pitched moan in surprise, but deepened the kiss immediately. Vi’s hands gripped her small, perfect waist, pulling her closer. It was painful, how much they wanted each other. Her hands wandered lower, squeezing her ass, which earned her a very pleased laugh. She smiled against Caitlyn’s lips.

Vi slid her hands under Caitlyn’s thighs and lifted her effortlessly. She loved carrying her like that. Maybe a little too much. As she made her way to the couch, her mouth never left Caitlyn’s, biting gently on her lower lip, sucking her tongue.

She sat down on the sofa, Caitlyn straddling her lap, rocking her hips into her. The blue-haired woman began grinding against Vi’s abs, her breath turning short and sharp. Then she stood, peeled off her clothes with hurried fingers, staring at Vi like a challenge. She yanked Vi’s shirt up and over her head and dropped back into her lap.

She rolled her hips harder against Vi’s taut stomach, slick and flushed, and the planet spun off its axis. Vi encouraged every motion with greedy hands on her ass, kissing her neck like a starving woman. Caitlyn moaned louder, hotter, and Vi knew she’d never get tired of the sound.

Vi’s hand slipped between them, fingers easily finding Caitlyn’s folds and pushing into her in one swift, hungry motion.

Caitlyn’s head fell back with a sharp cry, her eyes fluttering shut as she began fucking herself on Vi’s fingers. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her rhythm growing frantic. Vi watched her, stunned and in awe.

“You’re so beautiful,” Vi whispered.

She leaned forward, Caitlyn arching into her, and placed a steadying palm on her back. She pressed tender kisses to her toned stomach, committing everything to memory; the tiny mole near her hipbone, the softness just below her breasts. Caitlyn whimpered at the new angle, the deeper thrusts.

“God, Vi… your fingers… your mouth…” she cried, her voice strangled.

Vi moved faster, matching Caitlyn’s desperate rhythm. Her own breath stuttered when Caitlyn’s nails dug into her shoulders, painful, perfect.

“Touch yourself,” she breathed into Caitlyn’s feverish skin.

Caitlyn obeyed at once, rubbing fast, wild, just above where Vi’s fingers curled deep and true. Vi could feel her own knuckles grazing that sweet spot again and again. She was going to lose it just watching her.

“Oh fuck…” Caitlyn gasped low and wrecked.

“Yes,” Vi murmured. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“This is so good… I’m gonna come…”

“Please,” Vi rasped, dizzy with want. “Come for me. I want to feel you— I want you— I want you— I want you…”

“Oh God, YES,” Caitlyn cried, her whole body tensing around Vi’s hand, thighs crushing her wrist, hips jerking with the power of her release.

Her head dropped to Vi’s shoulder, her limbs slack, her breath wild and uneven. She pressed lazy kisses to her skin.

“Fuck, Vi,” she laughed softly, dazed. “I should’ve known you’d be really good at this.”

Vi let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re so insanely hot, I came in like… two seconds yesterday.”

“I guess we’re just amazing together,” Caitlyn replied with a grin, her voice still breathy.

“Yeah,” Vi drawled, a stupid smile spreading on her face.

“You’re still inside me…” Caitlyn whispered, all soft and teasing.

“I am. I’m quite comfortable here.”

Caitlyn laughed harder, and Vi felt it in her bones. Caitlyn brought Vi’s wrist up, slowly removing her fingers from her soaked heat, and guided them to her mouth. She sucked them clean, her tongue swirling slow, deliberate, greedy.

Vi froze, watching with wide eyes.

“Hmm,” Caitlyn hummed with delight.

“You’re really gonna kill me…” Vi said hoarsely.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caitlyn purred with a velvet laugh. “You are.”

Then, she looked down at Vi’s hand, tracing every line with her fingers. She pressed kisses into her palm, then each knuckle, each joint.

“I love your hands,” she whispered.

“Wh—what?” Vi blinked.

“You heard me.” Caitlyn smiled, her gaze warm and unwavering. “You’re so beautiful, Violet.”

Vi’s heart clenched so tight it almost hurt. She didn’t know what to say… so she just stared at her, eyes locked in hers. Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, a soft, amused little smile playing on her lips.

“What are your plans for the day?” she asked, light and sudden.

“I was hoping to do… you. And then do you again.” Vi shot her a crooked grin, and Caitlyn blushed.

“That’s a… solid plan,” she chuckled. “But maybe we could, you know, do something else in between?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to…” Vi paused, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “I mean—I know a great spot, a bit up in the mountains. Beautiful view, quiet trail through the woods. Thought maybe… we could ride there, take a walk…”

Caitlyn’s smile widened.

“But we don’t have to!” Vi added quickly. “Only if you want to.”

“That sounds perfect,” Caitlyn breathed, before kissing her. Once. Twice. A third time—deeper, like a promise.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” she said, radiant.

“And I’ll go prep the bike and the gear.” Vi’s voice was light, buoyant.

Caitlyn disappeared down the hallway, and Vi headed for her room to get dressed. She found an old jacket, deep red. One of the most precious gift she ever received. She smiled, trailing her fingers on the fabric, remembering that Christmas like it was yesterday.

Fuck, she was happy.

******

Eight years earlier, after knowing Caitlyn for approximately five minutes, Vi had pictured this exact moment.

The road. The engine vibrating beneath them. Long, lean arms circling her waist. The wind, the sun, the view. Caitlyn’s body against her back. Like a scene from a movie. One where the protagonists were happy, living a dream in broad daylight.

She could barely believe this was real. Some part of her still expected to wake up. But right now, she felt whole. Caitlyn wasn’t just her friend. Not just her lover. She was her other half. The missing piece. She had never been complete without her. One person is all it takes.

Vi stopped the bike at the edge of the forest, near the narrow path that would lead them to the hilltop with the breathtaking view.

“Wow!” Caitlyn exclaimed, removing her helmet. “That was amazing!”

The smile on her face could warm the sun.

“Glad you liked it.” Vi grinned back, all joy and disbelief.

They stepped onto the path weaving through the forest. The scent of pine and earth filled their lungs.

They walked in silence, side by side, absorbing the stillness, the vibrant green around them, the birdsongs that seemed to belong to a quieter world.

“I love pine trees,” Caitlyn said softly. “They’re a symbol of longevity and resilience in Asia. They outlive us, by far. The oldest one is in California. Over 4,800 years old. It’s named Methuselah.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Vi teased, eyeing her with a sidelong smile.

“Yes. A lot, actually.” Caitlyn laughed.

Vi couldn’t help it. She reached for Caitlyn’s hand, soft and warm. Just the touch made her skin sing. Caitlyn looked down at their intertwined fingers with a quiet, almost bashful smile.

“Look who stopped holding back.” She purred, raising their hands a little higher.

“I learn,” Vi murmured.

The look Caitlyn gave her was unbearable. Open, proud, and, if she dared name it, loving. Vi stopped walking. Blue eyes blinked at her, confused. But Vi couldn’t hold back anymore.

She crashed her lips on hers, hands curling tight around Caitlyn’s hips. It was rough, all consuming.

Caitlyn gasped. But then she responded just as fiercely, hands in Vi’s hair, gripping her neck, shoulders, strands of pink. She tasted like summer. Like raw desire. It was indecent.

She didn’t realize she had pressed Caitlyn’s back against a thick pine tree until she felt the bark behind her own knuckles.

“Sorry,” Vi breathed, bodies still tangled.

“Don’t be.” Caitlyn’s voice was a whisper before she kissed her again, deeper, hungrier.

“I told you…” Vi muttered, catching her breath between kisses, “to be careful.”

Her lips traveled down Caitlyn’s neck, sucking lightly, nibbling the skin. Caitlyn moaned, her hands keeping Vi’s mouth exactly where she wanted it.

“I can’t take my hands off you…” Vi groaned, desperate.

But Caitlyn didn’t answer.

She pivoted them fast, suddenly pinning Vi against the tree. Her fingers dove beneath Vi’s shirt, climbing over her stomach, her ribs, her breasts. Her touch was feverish. Like she would die if she didn’t have all of her, now.

She tugged Vi’s pants open with one trembling hand and slipped it inside, under her boxers.

“Oh my God,” Vi whispered as those perfect fingers slid over her soaking heat.

Her head tipped back and hit the tree trunk softly, her eyes lifting toward the sky. Bright rays pierced through the green canopy, and it looked almost holy.

Caitlyn kissed her neck, her breath hot on Vi’s skin. Her moans feathered over her throat, raising chills everywhere. She didn’t even need to enter her. She just cupped her, rubbed tight, erratic circles with her whole palm, while her other hand caressed her breast, brushing her aching nipple.

“Caitlyn…” Vi whimpered. Too much. Too good.

Caitlyn lifted her head and locked their eyes.

“Kiss me again,” she breathed, barely audible, but so certain. So hungry.

Vi’s hands cradled her face and she kissed her with the thirst of someone who had wandered a blistering, merciless desert for days, finally finding an oasis. Caitlyn’s hand never slowed, and her moan poured into Vi’s mouth.

They weren’t kissing anymore; they were breathing into each other. Panting against parted lips, clinging to every second.

Pleasure rushed through Vi’s body, everywhere at once. The buzzing crescendoed inside her, from the crown of her head to the curl of her toes. It built inside her, growing louder, faster. Like a plane on the runway, trembling before takeoff. And when she finally soared, it was higher and wilder than anything that had ever touched the sky.

She cried out, the sound swallowed by Caitlyn’s mouth. Her whole body convulsed as the orgasm shattered her from the inside. It stole her breath; took everything she was.

******

“Powder was just swimming, and this fish jumped and brushed her leg. She screamed like a madwoman! So loud I swear anyone on the other side of the lake would’ve heard her.” Vi laughed hard at the memory. “I’ve never seen anyone swim so fast in my life. It was ridiculous. She hit the shore still panicking, arms flailing, like she was chased by death itself. We couldn’t stop laughing.”

She paused, breathless with laughter. “But that’s not even the best part. When she saw us laughing, she got pissed. She yelled that she wasn’t scared of the fish, no, she was scared because it was obviously running away from something terrifying, and that’s what freaked her out.”

Caitlyn burst out laughing. “Oh, sure. The fish’s fear. That’s what did it.”

“Exactly!” Vi replied, wiping away a tear. “She was so angry! And that only made it funnier.”

They slowly calmed down, laughter fading into the warm silence of contentment, admiring the view. They were sitting on the grass, high up on the hill, Caitlyn nestled between Vi’s legs, her back leaning against her chest. Vi’s arms were wrapped around her, their fingers loosely interlaced over her heart. Vi buried her face in the crook of Caitlyn’s neck, breathing her in like it was the only air she needed. That scent, so familiar, so precious…she’d never forgotten it. Could never forget it. She’d recognize it in the dark, across a room, in a dream.

Caitlyn rested her cheek against Vi’s and exhaled deeply.

“This is really nice,” she murmured.

“Yes,” Vi breathed against her skin. “You… you still use the same shampoo, don’t you?”

Caitlyn turned slightly to glance at her, a trace of surprise in her eyes.