Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

It was a Wednesday when I got her letter. I had been writing her for months with no response at that point. Not even a confirmation she had been receiving the letters until Laurel mentioned how much having Junior Mint mattered to Belly. She said that it was a tiny piece of home and of Cousins, something to remind Belly who she was.

I had just gotten home from an overnight shift at the hospital and a day full of classes and clinicals. I was dead on my feet and aching with a kind of tired that makes your bones feel heavy. I wanted nothing more than to make it to my bed and crash until my study group that evening. And then there it was, my name written in her handwriting stopped me cold.

For a second I thought maybe I was imagining it, like I was so tired my brain was filling in what I wanted to see. I just stood there for a long time, staring at it, like if I opened it too fast it might vanish. Like she would vanish. Like we already had.

When I finally opened it, my hands were shaking. Not from exhaustion, from her, from us. From the fact that she’d finally written me back. The letter wasn’t long, it didn't need to be. I would take anything she was willing to give. I read it once, then again, trying not to read too much into it. Still, I couldn’t help it. There was something in her words, quiet but there. Something I’d been waiting on for months.

Belly wrote back.

I texted Taylor after I’d read the letter for the fourth time. It seemed like the most logical option. A year ago, if someone had said I’d end up trusting Taylor Jewel with something like this, I would’ve laughed. If someone had told me that Taylor and I would end up as friends, I would’ve thought they were crazy. No way. She was Belly’s best friend who I'm pretty sure never liked me. She was loud, opinionated, bold, and way too good at calling me out. Exactly the kind of person I kept at arm’s length.

And yet, she was the first person I thought of. The first one I trusted enough to say something to. That in itself felt strange, almost wrong, but also… right. Because somehow Taylor had been the one who stuck around. When things blew up last summer, she didn't go no contact like Steven. She stayed, in fact she reached out. She checked in. She didn’t let me hide, even when I wanted to. She still called me out when I needed it but she did it from a place of caring now. And somewhere along the line, she became someone I trusted.

Her reply came quick: Yeah… she mentioned she wrote you.

I couldn’t sit still after that. I must’ve walked the length of the living room a hundred times, running my hand through my hair, trying to figure out what the hell to do. Suddenly my phone buzzed again and I looked down at my phone and saw another text from Taylor.

Well?

I sank down onto the arm of the couch, thumb hovering over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to answer. How do I explain the thoughts rushing through my head right now how do I explain the feelings, the months silence and unknowing ending, of finally having Belly’s words in my hands, into a single text? How do you explain the way your chest feels too tight and too light at the same time?

I sighed. No words fit. None of them ever do. So instead of typing back, I clicked on her contact and pressed facetime call.

"Alright Fisher, what's your plan?" She said with a very matter of fact tone the moment she answered the phone. That was something I appreciated about Taylor, she was straightforward, didn't deal with the bullshit or beating around the bush.

“I don’t have one?” I responded confusion evident as the words tumbled out before I could stop them. I was embarrassed to admit it but I didn't know what to do from here. Everything felt unsteady, like I was standing on uneven ground.

Belly writing back may seem like nothing to someone else, but to me, for us, it was huge. I may have left the door open, kept writing even through the silence, but now she had finally walked through it. I know after everything last summer, that wasn't just a big step, it was a leap. And she had taken it. I tried to keep myself calm and not overthink, not spiral into a panic attack.

Taylor raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. I call bullshit Fisher. You've got some plan, or an idea, something brewing in your brain. If you weren't you would've just written her back and moved on with your day and I would not be sitting on FaceTime right now.”

I sank further into the couch arm, pinching at the edge of my sleeve. “I just… I don't know Tay. I don't want to fuck it up again. This time, it has to be perfect.”

She softened a little,“Conrad, you're making this into something bigger than it needs to be. It doesn't have to be perfect. This is you and Belly, with all your insane soulmate shit. You just have to do it. Belly doesn’t need some like big over-the-top, movie-scene gesture. She just needs you. Just you. Showing up for real this time. That’s enough.”

"She's right." I almost dropped the phone. I turned and there was Agnes, leaning against the doorway. From the looks of it she’d been standing there long enough to catch most of the conversation. And from the look on her face she had been judging me the whole time.

“How the hell did you-" I start to ask.

She dangled a key between her fingers, smirking. “Don’t give me a key if you don’t want me to use it.”

“I didn’t give you a key.”

“Right… then maybe don’t hide a spare in the most obvious spot known to mankind.” She pushed off the doorframe and casually strolled inside like she owned the place—which, honestly, with Agnes, she kind of did. Without hesitation, she flopped down on my couch like it was hers.

On my screen, Taylor practically lost it, cackling. “Oh my God, I like love her, she’s perfect. It’s like looking at a slightly scarier, way cooler California version of me. Badass and not afraid to call you on your shit.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a groan. “This is officially an ambush.”

“Ambush? No, Fisher,” Agnes said, kicking her feet up onto the couch to lay across it. “This is an intervention. And yes, you desperately need one.”

Taylor leaned closer to the camera, watching me like she could read my thoughts. “Yep. You’ve been broody, withdrawn, and mysterious long enough, Fisher. Spill it, what’s the plan? Or are we gonna have to drag it out of you?”

I looked over at Agnes kicking her boots off like she was settling in for a show. Suddenly I was outnumbered. But the truth? Some part of me was… relieved. Because if there were two people on earth who wouldn’t let me screw this up it was Taylor and Agnes. Taylor, who always had Belly’s best interests at the front of her mind, who would go down fighting for her best friend. And Agnes,who had become a permanent fixture in not only my house but my life. The one who’d carried me through the dark days more times than I could count. The person who was my friend when no one else would even talk to me. with them I couldn’t hide. Couldn’t chicken out. And maybe, that was exactly what I needed.

Chapter Text

It was mid-morning when my plane finally touched down in Paris. I had taken an overnight flight so that I could spend as much time as possible with her, if she'd let me.

The landing was rough, but somehow, it barely registered. I was too caught up in my own head, the adrenaline and nerves pumping through my body. The possibilities, the thought of finally being back in the same country as her was taking all my attention. The landing and taxi to the gate passing without a second thought, I was too wrapped up in what waited for me on the outside of the plane.

If someone had told me a year ago that I would be in Paris, willingly, with a heart pounding like I was eighteen again planning on laying myself bare to her… again. I would’ve laughed. I would've thought no way. I barely made it through that once.

But deep down, from the moment I received her letter, I think I always knew I’d end up exactly here. It didn’t feel like a decision, not really. More like gravity, an invisible force. Something pulling me back toward her.

I kept writing after everything that happened. Through the silence. Through her absence. Through the grief. At first, it was selfish, my way of pretending I still had a line to her, that we weren’t entirely broken. But after a while, it became something else. Something more like faith. Or maybe desperation.

And then she wrote back.

It didn’t erase the pain or the mistakes or what I’d put her through last summer. But it cracked something open. And that was enough. Taylor was right, when I called her the day I got the letter I knew deep down what I wanted to do. I think I only called Taylor because I needed a push, I needed confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I booked the flight that night, and any anxiety over the uncertainty got shoved down beneath hope.

By the time I made it through customs, the jet lag started to hit. My body ached from the long flight, the cramped seats, and the anxiety gnawing at me. Once I had made it safely through and to baggage claim, I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text to Taylor and Agnes letting both of them know I had landed.

Their responses came shortly after:

Taylor: Finally. Don't screw this up Fisher.

Agnes responded simply by using the emphasized reaction on Taylor's message which felt loud even without any words. She didn’t have to say anything for me to know exactly what she meant: Don’t be an idiot..

Making my way through the airport I followed the signs leading to the taxi pick up area. When I made it to the designated pick up area, I stood there for a second, phone in hand, staring out at the busy street. I didn’t even know exactly what I was going to say to her when I saw her. I hadn’t figured that part out. But Taylor and Agnes had been right, I didn’t need a perfect plan. There wasn’t one. I just needed to show up.

No script. No grand gesture. No magic words.

Just this. Just me.

Showing up.

For her. For us.

For the second chance I didn’t think I’d ever get.

I look down at her postcard double checking the address with the number of the building in front of me. I take a deep breath stepping up to the doorway. Reading the apartment numbers I find her buzzer, I.Conklin.

I press it twice and wait. After a few moments I press again. When there is no response the second time that sinking feeling starts in my chest, slow but sharp. I realize then, in that moment, that in all the planning and pacing and spiraling I’ve done I had not considered this. I never once pictured her not being here. None of the countless scenarios I had run through in my head had included her not answering the door. Not being home.

Slamming the door in my face, telling me to fuck off, asking me to leave, telling me I was too late. all possible and fully anticipated situations. But missing her, coming all this way and not even getting a chance, doing all of this for nothing… never even crossed my mind.

With a defeated sigh I take out my phone and sit down on one of the steps outside her doorway. I open the chat with Taylor and Agnes unsure what else to do,

Conrad: Update: She's not home.

Agnes: Damn. Well, she has to come back at some point right?

Conrad: I can't just sit outside her apartment all day, Agnes.

Taylor: Give me a sec.

A beat passes. Then another message pops up.

Taylor: She's like ten minutes away and it looks like she's on her way back.

Conrad: How do you know?

Taylor: Life360 duh. We added each other forever ago. It was a literal lifesaver at Finch. Drunk Belly wanders.

I exhale, half a laugh slipping out before I even mean to. Of course. I thought back to the last summer in Cousins with my mom. The Fourth of July that Belly drank way too many pomegranate margaritas and got too drunk. Her, a little past tipsy cornering at the beach shower questioning me about the birthday gift I hadn't given her before wandering off to the dock. That summer felt like a lifetime ago. Another buzz from my phone brought me back to reality.

Taylor: It looks like she's about a block away now. Good luck.

Agnes: Keep us updated.

Taylor: That too.

I turned my phone off and shoved it quickly into my pocket as I see a moped turning down the street. It slows in front of the building, and my chest tightens.

I watch as she gets off the scooter and pulls off her helmet. The first thing I notice is her hair, she's cut it short. Shoulder length, and it suits her. Of course it does. She could probably shave it all off and still look like the girl who knocked the air out of me without even trying.

She looks different, but still her. She moves with this quiet confidence, more easy and light. I can’t look away. I watch her laugh as she says something to the person with her, handing him the helmet back. I watch in awe of her, of who she had become. Just from watching her now I could tell she was happier. She looked happy, genuinely happy. She says goodbye to the guy before turning away, toward her apartment.

"Belly!" I call to her as the man on the moped drives off.

"Conrad?" Her voice catches, and I watch the shift happen in real time: shock, then confusion, then concern. The tone of her voice defensive, reserved. "What are you doing here?"

I held it together as I left her apartment. It wasn't until I made it into a taxi that I let myself break and fall apart. I give the taxi driver my destination and sank back into the seat pulling out my phone. The city moved around me, blurred through the window, but I couldn’t see any of it clearly. My throat was tight. My chest was heavier than it had been in a long time.

I open my messages app for the first time since I'd seen her this morning.

There were multiple texts from Agnes and Taylor requesting updates throughout the day, a missed call from Taylor, and two texts from Jeremiah that I hadn't seen earlier.

Jere: Wish her a happy birthday from me.

Jere: This is your shot Con, don't waste it.

I stared at his messages on the screen for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Not yet.

I wasn’t ready to face him. To explain how I’d tried, how I’d shown up, how I’d said everything that had been burning a hole in my chest for months. And still it hadn’t been enough.

So I clicked into the group chat instead.

Conrad: It's over.

The bubbles appeared immediately. Both of their icon pictures popping up and down frantically, indicating they were typing, but I didn’t wait for their replies.

I shut off my phone.

I leaned my head against the window and let the silence wrap around me, let the city blur into nothing, let the tears fall without trying to stop them.

This was what heartbreak really felt like. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just quiet, cold, lonely, and final.

And in that moment all I could think was: I lost her. For real this time.

The taxi ride was short. Almost too short.

I bought my train ticket just as we pulled up to the station, the confirmation buzzing on my phone as I wiped the last of the tears from my face. I muttered a thank you to the driver, handed him the fare, and stepped out onto the pavement like someone walking away from something they couldn’t carry anymore.

Inside the station, I moved on autopilot. No hesitation, no looking around, just head down, bag slung over my shoulder, straight to the platform. I didn’t want to be seen. Not like this. I found a seat at the front of the train car away from the crowds of people boarding.

I watch the lights of Paris blur into streaks of gold and white, fading into the dark like a dream dissolving in daylight. I tell myself not to think, not to feel, but the thought presses in anyway. As I watch the train moving farther from Paris, leaving the city behind, I know that I am leaving her behind. And as the distance grows larger, and the lights get smaller and dimmer, whatever chance we had of finding our way back, whatever hope I had left, fades into the night with it.

I shift in my seat, eyes fixed on the window, pretending not to care, pretending not to fall apart.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice snaps me out of it. I look up, and my heart stops.

She’s there. Standing in front of me. Out of breath, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and desperate, tears glinting in the corners. My mind races, like it’s trying to catch up to what’s right in front of me. I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it, because if it’s not real, I won’t survive the fall.

Before I can say a word, she draws a shaky breath.

“Conrad, I chose you. Of my own free will.”

Everything inside me stills.

“If there are infinite worlds, every version of me chooses you, in every one of them.”

Her voice trembles but doesn’t break. At that moment, she lifts her hands to her necklace and turns it around her neck, revealing the small silver infinity symbol. The sight of it makes my stomach twist.

I know that necklace. I know it like my own heartbeat.

The one I gave her the summer she turned sixteen.

She had kept it all these years.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat sharp and unrelenting. My chest tightens and my heart starts pounding so hard it’s all I can hear.

I rise slowly from my seat, careful, deliberate. Like if I move too fast she’ll vanish. Like she’s a dream I’ve conjured up out of everything I’ve been missing. A way to cope with the heartbreak of our last conversation. My sleep deprived brain creating a moment to bring me peace. My hands twitch at my sides but I don’t reach for her yet. I’m not sure if this is real.

She’s still there, her eyes fixed on mine.

Her breath hitches as I reach up and touch the necklace, needing to feel it there to believe this was real. I step closer to her, my fingers tracing the symbol as she watches me. My free hand wrapping around her waist pulling her close and she doesn’t pull away. She breathes in, shaky and small, and her hand finds the back of my neck pulling me in to a kiss.

The kiss is soft at first, but I can’t stop myself. I pull her in, closer, deeper. Everything I’ve tried to bury. The guilt, the love, the longing… it crashes into that kiss. I’m not holding back. Not anymore. Not when she’s here and kissing me like she means it.

When we break apart, she’s smiling, and she laughs, breathless.

And God, how I’ve missed that sound.

“I love you, Belly,” I say, voice low but steady.

She nods, eyes locked on mine, her hand sliding down to my arm.

"I love you too." She adds before pulling me into another kiss.

This kiss is slower, but somehow it hits even harder.

When we part again, I don’t say anything right away. I rest my forehead against hers and stand in silence for a moment. I look at her examining her face. Her eyes are closed, here breathing has steadied again and she looks content.

I slip my hand into hers and give it a gentle squeeze.

“Come,” I say softly, tugging her toward the empty seat beside mine. She follows sitting next to me.

"Do you have a ticket?" I ask, eyeing the conductor on the other end of the train car. "I can buy one if-"

"I did that in the taxi. She said pulling her phone out of her back pocket and setting it in her lap.

I nod, letting it sink in. This isn’t some dream or fleeting moment. She’s actually here.

“You’re here,” I say, still not fully believing it.

“I’m here,” she replies with a laugh, giving my hand a small squeeze.

For a second, I just look at her, trying to read her face, trying to understand how we got here. “Should we talk about this?” I ask, the words out before I can stop them.

Before she can answer, the conductor reaches us, scanning our tickets quickly before moving on.

“Yes, we should,” Belly says quietly once he’s gone, picking the conversation back up. “But you, my love, need sleep right now. I can see it in your eyes.” Her voice softens even more. “We can talk later. Close your eyes.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the weight of the last few days pressing down on me. She’s right. I am tired. Bone-tired. But her hand is warm in mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can actually rest.

I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I feel her shift beside me, curling in gently, her head resting against my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Conrad. I love you,” she whispers.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, my heart full.

“I love you too,” I murmur. And then everything goes quiet and I drift off to the most peaceful sleep I've had in years.

Chapter Text

"What time does your conference start?" Belly asks from the bathroom. When the train arrived in Brussels she agreed to stay for the day so we could actually talk. We had headed straight to the hotel to shower, rest, and freshen up.

We didn’t say much on the way to the hotel. Just kinda small talk. The city looked pretty in the fall. She liked the architecture. I told her the waffles were overrated. She rolled her eyes at me. It felt like us, or at least something close to it.

"Opening remarks and cocktails don't start until 5:30 but check in and registration starts at 4:00" I respond from where I am laying on the bed.

"So you'll want to be there at 3:45 at the latest." She replies playfully teasing me and I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“No,” I say, trying to sound firm, but it comes out more defensive than I want. “I just want to be there before Dr. Namazy, honestly.”

There’s a beat. Then her voice again, closer now. “What time’s she getting in?”

I lift my arm and glance over. Belly’s walking back into the room, barefoot, damp hair falling down her back. She's wearing one of my old Stanford shirts and these too-long sweatpants she clearly had to cuff. She looks… better than I remembered. Like she belongs in my clothes. I think she always did.

I sit up, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans for my phone. “I need to check our texts, but I think her flight lands at three-thirty. She’ll still have to check in, change… she probably won’t make it until after everything starts.”

Belly nods, flopping onto the edge of the bed.

I power on my phone, and the second the screen lights up, Notifications flood in, one after the other. My lock screen fills like a dam about to break.

"Shit." I whisper to myself watching more and more notifications pop up.

"What?" Belly asks inching up the bed to sit beside me and I watch as her face shift to concern.

I don’t answer right away. I’m too busy reading.

“Conrad.” Her hand grazes my arm. Gentle. Familiar. Pulling me back into the moment.

"Nothing." I reply not looking up from my phone, going through the massive spams of messages and calls from Taylor and Agnes. I check my watch and do the timezone math, it's probably too late, or too early, to call either of them. I'm about to send a text when I get another notification from Taylor. I let out a sigh. "I have to call Taylor."

“Taylor?” she said, like she was trying to process something that didn’t quite add up. “You mean Taylor Jewel? My best friend? The short, blonde girl who’s basically the definition of anti-Conrad Fisher? The one who makes it her mission to annoy you at every possible second? That Taylor?”

"Yes." I let out a chuckle. "That Taylor."

"Why do you need to call her?" Belly asks confused trying to process. I notice her expression shift to one of concern. "Is Steven okay?" I hear the fear creeping up in her voice.

"Yes. Belly I promise everything is fine." I reply quickly. "Taylor… she knows I went to Paris." I confess.

Her head tilts. “Wait… does everyone know you’re here?”

“With you? No,” I admit, the words coming easier than I expected. “Jere knows, obviously. Taylor too clearly. And Agnes. But that’s it.”

Belly’s eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering across her face. “Your ex?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “My what? Who?”

“Your ex. Agnes. I remember Jere mentioned her a few times over the years. Said he thought you two were hooking up. And my mom said she was with you a few times when you were on the phone.”

I shook my head, a little sharper than I meant. “Belly, Agnes is not my ex.” My voice was firm, clear. “She’s just a friend. One of my closest friends. But just a friend.”

"Oh." Belly said softly, pausing like she was piecing something together. Then she looked up at me. "Wait a minute, go back to the needing to call Taylor thing. Why do you have to call Taylor? Since when are you two on, like, friendly speaking terms?”

"Since the wedding believe it or not." I let out a short laugh. "After everything, after I left Cousins, she kept reaching out. She made sure to keep me updated on everything with Jere and Steven. She didn't let me run off or lose touch again."

Belly nodded, a little chuckle escaping her lips. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

"Yeah." I agree. I scroll through the group chat and Taylor's separate messages to me. Before I have a chance to respond Belly leans over and takes my phone from me.

I barely had time to react before she finds Taylor's contact information and clicks the facetime button.

"What the fuck Fisher." Taylor answers almost immediately, speaking before the cameras had turned on.

"Hey Tay." Belly says as both their faces pop on the screen indicating the cameras had connected.

"Belly?" Taylor's face flipped quickly form the concern to confusion.

"What the fuck is happening right now." Taylor asks clearly frustrated.

“Conrad came to Paris,” Belly says flatly.

"Yeah…" Taylor drags out.

“And you didn’t warn me,” Belly added, cool and pointed.

“Ohh…. Surprise,” Taylor replies nervously. “Happy birthday?”

“Taylor Jewel,” Belly said, voice dripping with disbelief.

“To be fair… If I had warned you,” Taylor shot back, “you would’ve totally avoided him. Or freaked out and pulled a full scale Taylor level meltdown. Don’t even pretend like you wouldn’t have.”

A beat of silence. Then Belly again. “And?”

Taylor’s voice dropped, softer now. “You should hear him out, Belly.”

"Since when are you Team Conrad?” Belly asked, her voice suspicious, skeptical, maybe even a little amused.

I can practically hear Taylor’s exaggerated eye-roll through the phone. “Oh, we’re like super close now. He's my new bestie. He braids my hair, he tells me his feelings.”

They both laugh for a minute before Taylor pauses.

"Wait… speaking of Conrad. Where is he? Why do you have his phone?" She asks carefully and Belly looks at me with that smug little grin, like she knows exactly what she’s about to do. She flips the camera so both of us are in frame.

"Hey Taylor." I say giving her a small wave.

"Wait. You two are together? You're with him? Like you're in the same room… like right now?" She asks receiving a nod in response from Belly. "Okay. So, circling back to my original point, what the actual fuck Conrad?"

"Let me explain." I say taking my phone back from Belly who has an amused look on her face watching us interact."

"No. No. No Fisher. You don't get to go all MIA all day, then send that text, ghost for hours, and be all 'let me explain. I was worried, I literally almost booked a flight."

"Taylor." I began.

"No Conrad. No because what does that even mean? You can't just say 'it's over' with no context. And then you weren't answering, and Belly wasn't answering. And like you didn't even text Agnes so it wasn't like you were avoiding me because of Belly." I can tell she is starting to spiral and I interrupt her.

"Taylor. Can I explain?" I ask as Belly pulls out her own phone to her own spam of messages moving off the bed over to the chair in the corner of the room.

"This better be one damn good explanation." She says and Belly, who I assume was still listening in, rolls her eyes at what I'm sure she assumed was her friend's dramatics. Not knowing the full story. I understood Belly not taking Taylor's stress seriously not knowing what I had texted her. But because I knew, Taylor's panic made complete sense.

"I'm sorry Taylor. We ended up spending the day together yesterday, going all over Paris. I didn't really have my phone out except to take pictures and I wasn't paying attention to messages." I start to explain. "Then Belly's friends were throwing her a little pre-birthday dinner and she invited me to tag along."

"Okay well you could've texted us after the dinner, before you went to sleep." She says.

"Technically… I did." I confess watching Belly across the room as her face turns bright red as we both think back to the night before.

"What does that mean?" Taylor asks and I can tell she is frustrated.

"I didn't go to sleep until shortly after I texted you two." I explain.

"But that was at like 5:00 your time? And you're still with her? But 'it's over'? I'm confused and honestly starting to get a headache." Taylor replies rubbing her forhead.

"Tay, can I just tell you what happened?" I ask.

"Please?" She sighs.

I start walking Taylor through it, everything. From the second I stepped off the plane not even sure Belly would want to see me. The way Belly looked when she first saw me, surprised but guarded. I tell Taylor about how we wandered through the city like strangers, how every street corner felt like it could be the start of something or the end of it all.

Taylor doesn’t interrupt. She’s watching me closely through the screen, her mouth pulled into a tight line, like she’s waiting for me to say something that makes it all make sense.

At some point in the middle of the conversation I hear a soft buzzing sound. I look over at Belly and see her holding her phone. She flashes the screen at me and I can see that it's her dad calling. She doesn’t say anything just points to her phone, then the door and I nod understanding.

She slips out quietly and the door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly the room feels different. Quieter. Like she took something with her.Taylor holds her hand up to the camera and I stop speaking.

"Did Belly just leave?" She asks and I nod.

Taylor leans in a little closer toward the camera. Her voice drops. “Okay. Good. Now tell me what really happened.”

I blink. “What?”

She crosses her arms. “Conrad, you didn’t text ‘it’s over’ just because you guys ran around Paris eating crêpes and playing pretend for a day. That kind of text doesn’t come from sightseeing. So... what. Happened?”

I exhale, long and slow, running a hand through my hair. “It’s kinda complicated,” I admit.

Taylor gives me a look, "Is it ever not with you two?"

"Okay…" I reply as I begin. I start from our walk after the birthday dinner and go through the events that unfolded carefully.

"So you flew across the world, spent the day together, you confess your feelings again despite them being so obvious, you hook up…" Taylor raises an eyebrow, already bracing for the downfall. “And?”

“She panicked,” I say. “Kicked me out of her apartment before the sun even came up.”

"So she freaked out." Taylor laughed, not in a harsh way but more in a light and amused way.

"I wouldn't say she freaked out." I say not to argue, but to defend Belly.

"Conrad…" Taylor replies shaking her head. "She had a full blown Taylor Jewel level freak out. Like that's some shit I would do. That is some shit I've done."

"Maybe… but I get why she was worried. I get how her head got there" I reply.

“Okay, how?” she asks, tilting her head.

"Her biggest concern… her fear, was that I loved her out of some obligation." I begin, the words heavier than I expect them to be out loud.

"Obligation?" Taylor asked confused.

"Like..." I pause trying to gather my words. "She thought maybe I love her because I’m supposed to. Because my mom always said Belly was going to end up with one of us. Like it was her plan, and now we were just finishing it.”

"Yeah… and?"

"I think subconsciously… she knows that's how she ended up with Jere." I confess.

Taylor winces, but nods. “Oof. That’s dark. Even for you.”

"Think about it. When my mom died, Belly was dealing with more grief than just losing my mom. She lost me. Or… us. Whatever we were. And Jere hadn’t been talking to her for months. That was messing with her more than she’d admit. Steven was about to leave for school. And she was watching everything, everyone she loved just disappear. She was carrying more pain than she would acknowledge."

Taylor stays quiet, and I keep going. Maybe because it’s the first time I’ve said any of this out loud. Maybe because someone else needed to finally hear it.

"When we almost lost the house… that was just one more thing she couldn’t hold onto. But it brought Jeremiah back. And that week, he clung to her like a lifeline. And she let him. Because… what else was she supposed to do? She didn’t want to survive all of that alone.”

Taylor’s eyes soften, and I can tell she’s actually listening now. “So when Jere came back, she grabbed onto that. To him. To the idea of still being a part of our family. Of making good on what my mom said. And that helped her make sense of the grief. Like, if she could keep Jere, if she could stay, then she wasn’t losing everything. It was her way of keeping my mom's wish alive.”

Taylor exhales. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

"I never thought of it like that." Taylor confesses. "I don't think anyone really did."

"It's hard to see others grief while drowning in your own." I explain.

"But you saw it." She replies.

"Yeah, looking back I can see it. But in the moment, back then, I didn't or I wouldn't have walked away so easily." I confess.

For a second, there’s only the quiet hum of the hotel AC and Taylor shifting on the other end of the screen.

“It’s weird,” she finally says. “Knowing the story from your side.”

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"Just…" She starts to explain. “Just… hearing what you were actually thinking. What you saw. It changes things.”

"How so?" I ask curiously.

“I mean… like Belly is so obviously an unreliable narrator,” Taylor says, leaning back a little, arms crossed like she’s weighing something heavier than she expected.

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs and lets out a short laugh. “I mean think about it. Everything I’ve ever heard about you was through her. Through how she felt. And Belly’s feelings back then? They were a mess. All tangled up in her insecurities. I can see that now. I just… wish I’d seen it sooner."

I just stare at her for a second, unsure what to do with the way that lands. “Would it have been different if you did?”

“Yeah,” she says without hesitation. I watch her think about it for a moment before speaking up again. “We probably would’ve been better friends.”

I can’t help the small smirk tugging at my mouth. “Oh, so we’re friends now?”

She rolls her eyes, but a grin cracks through anyway. “Shut up, Fisher. But yeah. And honestly? I probably would’ve been Team Conrad from the beginning.”

"So…" I raise an eyebrow. “Does that mean you are now?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she shoots back. "I'm first and foremost forever Team Belly."

"So am I." I confess.

"Well then you better not fuck this up buddy." She replies trying to look intimidating, but her smile gives her away. Then, softer, “So… are you guys, like… together now?”

I drag a hand through my hair, trying to find words that make sense. “We haven’t actually talked about it. After she chased me down at the train station and told me she loved me too… we’ve just been kind of… in it. Living in the moment.”

Taylor’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry… she what? Did you just say she chased you down?”

I laugh quietly, a little stunned by it still. “Yeah.”

“Wait. This is the same girl who had just kicked you out of her apartment?” she says, scandalized.

“She told me to leave, Taylor,” I defend.

“And you actually listened to her?” she fires back.

“Of course I did,” I say simply. “I wasn’t gonna guilt her or make her uncomfortable. I told her how I felt. What happened after that was her choice. It always was.”

Taylor tilts her head, studying me. “So how did we get here? How did we go from her kicking you out to… chasing after you?”

I shrug, but the smile’s already there, stubborn and real. “I don’t know. But she did. She found me on the train. Told me she loved me.”

Taylor lets out a loud, knowing laugh. "Well I could've told you that." she says in a matter of fact tone.

I roll my eyes, but there’s no hiding the grin.

And then I hear a click.

The door opens. My head jerks up. Belly slips back into the room quietly, like she’s trying not to make a sound. Her hair’s pulled back now, a few strands loose around her face. She looks calm. Happy. The kind of happy that still makes my chest ache because it’s hers. She slips her phone into her pocket and glances up at me.

“So,” Taylor drawls out, eyes narrowing. “Are you actually gonna talk to her this time? Or are you gonna run away like a little bitch again?”

I groan. “Obviously I’m going to talk to her, Taylor.”

I look back at Belly. She’s sitting across the room now, listening quietly with a soft smile sitting on her face.

My heart stumbles in my chest a little.

Taylor grins through the screen. “Good. I like this new Conrad. The one who actually communicates. Because the whole tragic, broody thing? Hot in theory. Not so much in practice.”

I roll my eyes. “Goodbye, Taylor.”

"Keep me updated, Fisher,” she says, smirking.

“I will,” I reply, quieter now. “Thank you, Tay.”

She nods, and for once she doesn’t fill the silence with something sarcastic. She doesn’t need to. She knows what that thank you means.

“Tell Belly I love her. And happy birthday,” she adds. “I’ll call her later.”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” she says, then the screen goes black.

“So…” Belly says, walking over and sitting on the corner of my bed. Her knees bump lightly against the frame. She’s picking at the hem of the shirt.

“So…” I echo, setting my phone down on the nightstand. “We should talk.”

"We should." She confirms.

"What made you change your mind?" I ask. My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

Belly lets out a soft, nervous laugh. “Okay, so right into it then,” she says, fiddling with the little silver bracelet around her wrist.

I give her a look that says Do you think there's another option?

She exhales long and deep. “No, you’re right.” Her shoulders square like she’s bracing herself. “I guess I should start before you left. Actually… I think I need to start when I left.”

"Okay."

“When I left Cousins, after Jere and I called off the wedding, I just…” she stops, shaking her head a little. “I needed to escape. Everything felt too loud, too heavy, I needed to get away. I’d lost myself somewhere in all of it, and when I looked in the mirror that day, I didn’t even recognize the girl staring back. That scared me.”

I stay quiet. My chest tightens as she speaks.

“I needed to step back. To figure out who I was without everyone else. Without Jeremiah, without Cousins, or Finch. Without even my family. I needed to be outside all of it. And when I finally looked at myself… all I saw was this villain. The girl who ruined everything.”

“Belly, I told you…” I start, but she lifts her hand, stopping me.

"Not like that Conrad. Well not just like that. I had become a villain in my eyes not only to everyone around me but also to me. This person that I was looking at… 'Belly,' She was unrecognizable. So I changed. I became Isabel. I left Belly in Cousins. I left her in the past. I decided to rebuild myself and find myself in what came from that. And that's what I have been doing. And who I am now… Isabel. I love her and I don't regret becoming her. When you said what you said, about forever. It did something to me."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Connie… don't be." She shakes her head quickly and scoots closer, her knee pressing into mine. She slips her hand into mine, warm and certain. "When you said what you said, it lit something up in me. This corner of my heart I’d buried for so long. It made me hope. It made me remember how much I wanted that at one point. It reminded me despite how hard I fought it, fought her, that Belly was Still in my heart and stitched into my soul. That girl that I was running so hard from… She was still me. And that realization made me panic."

I squeeze her hand encouraging her to continue. It’s all I can do.

"When you left, I sat in that feeling for a moment Letting it take over and processing how it affected me. Watching you walked away, Honestly killed me a little bit. And sitting in that pain made me see it clearly. Belly—the girl I was—she isn’t my enemy. She built me. She built Isabel. She’s my foundation." Her voice cracks a little, and she clears her throat before continuing.

"And the resentment I had for her wasn't fair. She was just following her heart and doing what she thought was best. I owed her some grace. I owed myself some grace. And she deserves the happiness she always wanted and that she fought so hard for."

Her free hand reaches up, slow and gentle, and she cups my cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I lean into her touch.

"I love you, Conrad. That was never a question, I have always loved you. I just had to understand, to accept… that I deserve to love you. And then I deserve to be loved by you."

"You do Belly. And I love you. I always have, every version of you." I reply.

"I love you, Conrad. And I want a future with you. I want forever."

"So…" I say not knowing where to go from here.

"What do you want, Conrad?" She asks.

"Belly," I Take a moment to find the right words. "Being with you is all I've ever wanted." I add, and in that moment, I see the soft smile growing on her face as she processes what I said. I could tell from the glint in her eye that she was recalling the same memory as me.

"Okay." She says slowly standing up with a smirk. "That's great. She adds pulling me up to face her. I go willingly, standing in front of her as her arms loop around my shoulders, fingers linking behind my neck.

“Be with me then,” she whispers, pulling me down gently. My hands find her waist like they’ve always known where to go. Her fingers slip into the hair at the nape of my neck, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are wide and a little teary, but steady. Sure. The kind of sure I used to dream about.

The moment our lips meet, it isn’t rushed. It isn’t desperate. It’s soft, like a quiet promise. Like the kind of kiss you give when words aren’t enough. When we pull away, I press a quiet kiss to her forehead, just because I can. She leans into it, her smile blooming against my chest, and I hold her there.

And in that quiet, with her heartbeat against mine, I know it. Whatever comes next… it’s us. It’s always been us.