Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Suitcase slams the front door behind her, already feeling the mark on her cheek starting to bruise. The tears start blossoming at the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them away as she runs down the stairs. 

Suitcase runs to the lake, which is really a small pond near her apartment building. She wishes she had ice or something, because the bruise hurts, but like hell was she going back home when her mother was still intoxicated. 

Walking through the reeds, Suitcase sees her usual spot. It’s a small place with a wider opening to the lake, with one small bench marked with two initials - L+TT. Suitcase sits there whenever she just needs to disassociate from the world in peace, whenever she just can’t be at home. 

Suitcase sits on the grass near the lake, cupping her bruise with one hand then wincing. She eventually gets used to the ache, and just stares at the sky. 

It’s peaceful, not having to listen to her mother call her a failure or a little bitch. Suitcase adjusts her hoodie, a women’s medium. It’s a little too big for her thirteen year old body, but she doesn’t care right now. 

The reeds rustle again, and Suitcase immediately sits up, scared it’s her mom. It’s not, instead it’s a gray haired boy with the same scared expression Suitcase sees in the mirror when her mother starts screaming from the other room. 

Suitcase’s eyes widen in recognition, and she sees the same thing dawn in his eyes. It’s Knife. His hair is messy, his usual class clown posture is tense. He has a backpack, a big black one that looks worn out. 

“I-I’m sorry-” he stutters, starting to back out. 

“Don’t be!” Suitcase calls, then gets unsure on why she’s talking. But she continues. “You can, uh, stay.” 

Knife’s eyes look unsure. But he slowly takes a seat on the bench. 

They continue to look at each other. Suitcase wants to ask why Knife has a backpack, why he looks like he’s escaping, why he looked so scared. 

But she doesn’t. They just sit there in peace for a few more minutes. 

“Suitcase!” Her mom’s voice booms out. Suitcase flinches, then desperately hopes Knife didn’t see. “I’m sorry, sweetie!” 

Suitcase wants to cry. Her mom always apologized once she’d sobered up. And Suitcase always went back. 

Suitcase slowly gets to her feet, brushing her hair back. The welt is most likely purplish now, something that Suitcase knows that she’ll have to get up ten minutes earlier to cover with that shabby dollar store concealer her mom got her to cover up all of the marks. 

“Wait,” Knife says slowly, fear still dancing in his eyes. He takes a shirt out of his backpack, making Suitcase believe that he was running away from home and dips a little into the pond. He then hands it to Suitcase. 

“Here. Press it against that bruise. It’s uh, fresh water so it won’t burn.” 

Suitcase takes it with trembling fingers. “Thank you,” she whispers. 

Knife opens his mouth, but Suitcase’s mom’s voice echoes again.

Suitcase starts walking away from Knife. “Bye.” 

Knife just smiled tight-lippedly.

Suitcase’s mom was fast asleep as she got up. She tip-toed to the bathroom and got ready, shabbily covering the mark on her cheek. As Suitcase packed her backpack, she idly wondered if Knife was going to be at school. And if he was still going to put on the class-clown face over the scared one she saw yesterday. 

Suitcase staggered down the sidewalk to the bus stop, getting on and putting in her earbuds. Her friends, Baseball and Nickel, thought she was so cool for getting a phone in fifth grade when no one else had one. They didn’t know it was from her dad, to protect her when he died from cancer. That little rectangle was one of her lifelines, one of the only reasons she was still here. 

Suitcase gets through her classes idly, although when lunch rolls in Suitcase looks around for Knife. He’s not at his usual table with Microphone, which leaves a pit in Suitcase’s stomach. She just eats her food and listens to Nickel and Baseball talk. 

“Fuck you!” is the last thing Knife hears before he slams the door shut behind him. He’s managed to refill his backpack again, and he’s so ready to disappear. Knife goes down the stairs of his apartment building and walks through the forest behind his house to the lake. His sneakers crunch on the leaves, the rips pretty obvious. They’re old and getting too tight, but his parents won’t buy him anything new. 

Knife walks through the reeds once more, and Suitcase isn’t there. Yet. It’s become a daily thing for them both, although it might’ve been daily for her before he came. Knife was going to tell her he wasn’t going to be at school.

They’d started just sitting there in silence, but after countless fits of sobbing, they’d started talking. And now Knife didn’t want to talk to anyone else other than Suitcase. 

Knife takes a seat on the bench, taking out the phone Mic had given him. Her parents were pretty fucking rich, and she had said she wanted some way to know if he was okay. 

Knife’s parents didn’t know about the phone. They’d snatch it and sell it, those greedy little bitches. Knife charged it in his locker when he was at school or when he was at the convenience store, which meant he had to be careful with the battery. 

But nevermind that right now - the convenience store was his next destination. The owner liked him, and paid him little bits whenever he came and did some work. Knife kept all that money and never spent any of it except when necessary, and now he had over a hundred dollars saved up. Not enough to permanently leave, but enough for the three day vacations he took. 

He also wanted to leave with Suitcase. 

Suitcase, who came to the lake with harsh bruises, who went to school with them covered up by concealer. Suitcase, who let Knife cry without judging. 

Knife sighs. When was Suitcase coming? She’d shyly gotten his number, so he could text her, but he didn’t want to text her. He wanted to see her. 

As if on cue, the reeds moved, and Suitcase came through. She has these doe eyes and chubby cheeks, the type that usually went in middle school, but hadn’t yet for her. Her long brown hair was covering her face, and she was wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. 

“Hey,” Knife calls gently. She turns to him, hair shifting to show a bleeding scar on her lip. 

Suitcase usually got hurt somehow once a week, and it could be really bad. This was one of those times. The blood was dripping down her chin, kind of like in those vampire movies Knife’s dad watched, the ones he’d scream at Knife for even looking at. 

Knife frowns, then grabs some cloth from his backpack. He’s started bringing pieces of cloth for her, and he soaks it then brings it to her lip. Suitcase is 5 foot 4, and while Knife is barely 5 foot 5, sometimes Suitcase seems really short and really small to him. 

“Are you okay?” Knife whispers. 

Suitcase sighs, stepping away a little. “Yeah, it’s just uh… my mom had a guy over and I came home from school and uh she had a bottle in her hand and uh…” 

“And she threw it at you? That’s horrible Suitcase.” 

“It’s fine. It barely hit me.” 

“It’s not fine.” Knife sits down on the bench, and invites Suitcase to sit with him. She does, and Knife glances at her, before looking down at his hands. 

“I’m not gonna be at school for the next two or three days,” Knife starts. 

“You’re leaving? Again?” Suitcase asks, looking at him with her eyebrows furrowed. 

“I just… my dad.” 

“Isn’t he worse when you come back?” 

Knife snorts. “He never cares. He never will care.” 

Suitcase frowns. “God, if only we could leave.” 

Knife licks his lips. “What if we ran away?” 

Suitcase’s eyes widen. “Knife, I would love to, but we’re thirteen. There’s no way in hell we could run away.” 

Knife smirks a little. “I totally could.” 

“Then why do you always come back?” 

“Maybe, ’cause I miss you.” 

Suitcase snorts. “As if.”

“Think about it, Suitcase. Not now, but maybe in a year. I have a place where I could get a jobish thing. And I know we won’t be able to do anything, but there can’t be any fate worse than being at home.” 

Suitcase smiles sadly. “There are, Knife. I promise you there are.” 

“I’m not gonna leave without you. But wouldn’t you love to leave Nickel?” 

“And leave Balloon alone? No thank you.” 

“C’mon, Suitcase.” 

“Maybe… later. But as for right now, let’s just… be here.” 

Knife frowns. “You’re the only reason I haven’t tried to permanently run away.” 

Suitcase chuckles hollowly. “Not even Mic?”

“I love her like a sister, but not really.” 

Suitcase bites her lips, then speaks: “You’re the only reason I’m still here.” 

They both glance at each other with a small smile.

“I’m gonna miss you, Knife.” 

“I’m only gonna leave you for three days max.” 

“That’s gonna feel like three years.” 

“Then I’m sorry.” 

“You should be, you asshole.” 

Knife fake gasps. “How dare you?” 

Suitcase giggles.

Knife smiles widely. This. This was what Knife wanted out of his life; moments where Knife didn’t have to worry about his parents, moments where Knife could just be… Knife.

Chapter Text

Knife waddles through the reeds again, seeing Suitcase already sitting there. Her hair was tied back, and she seemed to be writing something. 

Upon further inspection, Knife figured it was her math homework. Knife removes his own backpack and sits in front of the bench, resting his back to the hard wood. 

“Hey,” Suitcase says. She’s wearing a long t-shirt and some shorts, something that makes Knife a little happy. Even in warm weather, Suitcase wears sweatpants and hoodies to school, but around Knife she felt safe enough to show her scratched arms and legs. That part didn’t make him that happy, but seeing Suitcase feel safe did. 

“Hi,” Knife rolls his head back, grinning at Suitcase. “I’m totally gonna fail High School science.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Suitcase responds. “If you need help, just ask me.” 

“Please help me.” Knife begs. 

“School started four weeks ago. There’s no way you already need help.” 

“Fucking biology makes no sense.” 

“That’s ’cause you missed so much school in Middle School.” 

“Shut up. I’m gonna get my attendance up this year.” 

“That won’t matter if you fail your classes.” 

“Then help me not fail my classes.”

Suitcase sighs, then smiles a little. “Show me what you need help with.” 

Knife smirks and grabs his binder. He starts showing his notes to Suitcase, who slowly goes through the stuff Knife wasn’t comprehending. Suitcase was a way better teacher than Mr. 4s, something that didn’t really surprise Knife. 

They continue working for a few more hours, at which point Suitcase starts glancing at her house. “Maybe I should go back.” 

“Your mom hasn’t called you, just wait until she does,” Knife practically begs, not wanting Suitcase to go. 

“…She’s not at home, though.” Suitcase mutters. 

“Is she on another date?” Knife asks. 

Suitcase nods. “Yeah, she said she won’t be home until tomorrow morning.” 

“So you don’t have to go. C’mon, I have some sandwiches, we can eat that.” 

Suitcase winces a little. “I… don’t want to take your food.” 

Knife raises an eyebrow. “I mean… if you say so. But c’mon stay.” 

“Alright.” Suitcase gives in, bringing her knees to her chest and putting her papers to the side. “God, it’s cold.” 

Knife frowns. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and jeans, so he naturally shucks off the hoodie and hands it to Suitcase. 

Suitcase blushes. “You- uh, there’s no need.” 

Knife smirks. “You said you were cold. Take it.” 

“There’s really no-”

”Just wear it, Suits.” 

Suitcase frowns but adheres, pulling it onto her body. The sleeves go way past her hands, and the sides droop down in a way that make her seem smaller than ever. 

Knife bites back a laugh, and continues to write his English essay, which, yeah, he was probably going to fail. 

The sun starts to slip past the horizon, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. Suitcase yawns, and Knife turns to her. 

“Sorry,” Suitcase apologizes immediately. “I’ve been getting tired easily, but it’s been tough sleeping.” 

Knife furrows his brow. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m either alone or there’s a stranger in the house. Sleep’s been a long time coming for me.” 

Knife gets up and sits on the bench. “You can sleep now if you want.” 

“No, I should probably eat something first.” 

Knife grabs an aluminum covered sandwich from his bag. “Here you go.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“Just eat it, Suits. I can make more, and I’d love to use my dad’s food supplies.” 

Suitcase hesitantly takes the sandwich and unwraps it, taking a hesitant bite. 

Knife smiles. “Consider this payment for tutoring me in Biology.” 

Suitcase licks her lips. “Wow, you’re great at making sandwiches. Maybe I’ll have to tutor you more.”

“Really? That’s all I needed to convince you to tutor me?” 

“You ever heard the saying ‘food is the way to a girl’s heart’?” 

“Alright, fair.” 

Suitcase chuckles, then finishes the sandwich. Knife’s a little concerned by how hungry she is. 

“Did you eat your lunch?” Knife asks. 

Suitcase’s eyes widen. “O-oh, uh, yeah! For sure!” 

Knife raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Suits, you suck at lying.” 

Suitcase bites her lip. “My mom had a guy, the same guys she’s with today, over, and he was making coffee when I got up. They didn’t let me go make my lunch.” 

“Next time that happens, tell me. I’ll get you some food.” 

“You really don’t-”

”Have to? Maybe not, but I want to.” 

Suitcase smiles shyly, then yawns widely. “God, it’s been ages since I ate something that wasn’t ramen or shitty pizza.” 

“If you wanna sleep, you can sleep.” Knife offers. 

“Are you sure?” Suitcase whispers.

”Yeah, why not?” 

“Make sure to wake me up soon so I can go home soon.” Suitcase tells him. 

“Yep,” Knife absentmindedly agrees. 

Suitcase curls up into a little ball and presses against Knife, eyes flickering shut. Knife’s heart skips a beat, this was the most physical interaction he’s ever had. His parent’s never hugged him, and he shunned away from Mic’s touch. And yet, when Suitcase subconsciously grabs his arm, Knife finds himself not minding the touch. In fact, it felt… almost pleasant. 

Knife’s not sure how long he worked for, only that the crickets start chirping, and he’s finished the whole essay. Knife slowly detangles himself from Suitcase and packs his bag again, although Suitcase keeps reaching for him. 

Suitcase falls onto the bench, curling up again. She looks almost… adorable, like a baby. Like she had not a worry in a world. And Knife didn’t want to disturb that. 

Knife’s not what one would call weak, or even average. He’s on the Varsity football team as a freshman after all. He picks up Suitcase with too much ease, even for him (really, she should not be this light, even if she’s this short), and starts walking to her house. Knife climbs up the apartment's fire escape, to Suitcase’s window with those light pink drapes. Knife reaches under the loose plank outside her window and grabs the window key, sticking it into the window and opening it. 

Knife slowly enters, then places Suitcase on the bed, hearing her whine but eventually settle. She kind of reminds him of a tiny kitten. 

Knife takes out his phone and sends her a short text for when she wakes up in the morning. He then exits through the window, shutting it and climbing back down the fire escape back to his house. 

His house is decent size, which meant Knife got his own room. Knife barges into his house and tries to go directly to his room, but he’s stopped by his father. 

“Knife. Why on God’s green Earth do you have a C in Biology?” 

Knife bites the side of his cheek. “It’s the beginning of the year. Give me some time to get it back up.” 

Knife’s father rolls his eyes. “I was lax about your grades in Middle School, but this won’t pass in High School.” 

“I know, a-”

”I mean, who’s want to marry someone who doesn’t even know Biology?” Knife’s father continues, not even hearing Knife. “Not like anyone would want to marry you, but I can probably arrange something.” 

“I am not going into an arranged marriage,” Knife argues back, holding up a hand. Knife could put up with a lot of shit but this. This was where he drew the line. 

“Like you’d be successful any other way. Trust me, Knife, this will be for your benefit. You’ll be settled before you're in college.” 

“No, you can’t marry me off at sixteen.” Knife tries to scream, but his voice gets drowned out by his father’s stare. 

“Oh, I can. Parental consent, and I’m friends with a judge. Knife, I’m just doing what’s best for you!” 

“You can claim that, but marrying me off won’t help me.”

”Tell yourself that. You’ll thank me in a few years.” 

Knife rolls his eyes, then stomps up the stairs, although he spits once, on the ground, right in front of his father. 

Knife’s jaw tightens. No one’s crying, no one’s cursing each other out, so it’s one of the better conversations between him and his father.

“Ugh, Homecoming,” Suitcase groans to Knife, fiddling with her hair. 

“Are you going?” Knife asks, leaning back on the bench. 

“Maybe. Might just hang out with Balloon.” 

“Not gonna find a date?” Knife teases. 

“Like who?” 

Knife chuckles. “I dunno. All I know is I lost a bet to Trophy so I have to go, Pickle and Bomb aren’t going, and Mic’s going to be with Taco. So, I’m gonna be lonely.” 

“Didn’t Trophy say you have to with a date?” Suitcase wonders out loud. The two had bet on who’d score more points at their game, and unfortunately, Trophy had won by two points. 

Knife scratches his chin. “Yep. I have no clue how I’m gonna do that.” 

“Just ask someone random out. Maybe a cheerleader. There’s no way they’d say no to you. You’re like a football player, so shouldn’t you be like the guy everyone wants to go to HoCo with?” 

“You’ve been watching too many high school movies,” is all Knife says. 

“You got this! Choose anyone.” 

“Anyone?”

”Anyone!” 

Knife turns towards Suitcase. “Would you go with me?” 

Suitcase turns red. “I- what?” 

“C’mon. We could go as friends! I don’t want to actually ask out a girl. It’ll be fun!” 

“Uh. Y’know what, okay.” 

“Actually?” 

Suitcase smiles a little. Going with Knife would be fun, plus Balloon probably wouldn’t want to go to a dance anyway. “Yeah, sure.” 

Suitcase stumbles out of Knife’s car, shoulders shaking from laughter. She’s wearing a simple gray dress and some idiotic heels. Knife gets out too, sporting a simple dress shirt and some dress pants. 

“Bye, Knife.” Suitcase smiles at him. 

“Bye Suits,” he whispers back. 

“See you tomorrow?” Suitcase asks. 

“I’ll see you. Thanks for coming with me.” 

“Of course. I’m glad I did.” 

Knife scoops up Suitcase’s hand and kisses it once, firmly. He then smirks at Suitcase’s shocked look. “I can be a gentleman, y’know.” 

And with that, he get back in his car and drives off.

The spring air warms Suitcase’s back as she walks through the reeds. She’s in a better mood than usual, as her mom stayed home for a night and didn’t get drunk. It felt like nothing could go wrong that day. 

Oh, if she knew how wrong she was. 

Suitcase sees Knife, hood of his hoodie pulled up and staring at his phone, eyes wide. Suitcase takes a seat next to him. 

“Are you okay?” She whispers. 

Knife looks at her. It was just yesterday that she, Pickle, Mic and Taco had surprised Knife with cupcakes at his door and he’d been in such a great mood. Now his eyes were red and something was clearly bothering him. 

“He found someone,” Knife whispers thickly. 

Many things flow through Suitcase’s mind. “Who?” 

“M-my dad.”

”Oh. It’s not your fault he’s moved on fr-” 

“I don’t mean for him. He’s still not over my mom. I, uh, mean for me.”

Suitcase’s eyes widen. “What?” She whispers. 

“I never told you, did I? My father, he’s gonna marry me off when I’m sixteen. In California, you just need parental consent and a judge to review your case. So, I’m cooked, Suits. I don’t want to get married, but I guess I have to.” 

Suitcase is speechless for a second, then she finally works up the courage to whisper: “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too. I’ll probably have to move somewhere else. I won’t be here to help you.” 

“This isn’t about me!” Suitcase feels angry, partially because no one deserves to be married without their consent, and partially because Knife’s just letting it happen. “Remember when you said we could run away? Let’s do it. Let’s go.” 

Knife sighs. “That was childish. We couldn’t leave. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” 

Suitcase can feel her bottom lip start to quiver. No. She would not cry. “We’ll figure something out! You are not getting married, Knife.” 

“We still have another year. Let’s enjoy it.” 

“Knife, you don’t deserve to get married away. We both know you don’t want this, so fight back like you always do! Like you wanted me to do with Nickel! C’mon, we can fix this.” 

“I don’t think we can.” Knife responds slowly. 

“We can. We will be able to. I promise.” 

Knife glances at his phone, and Suitcase looks there too. The girl in the photo is… perfect. Perfect hair, lashes, eyebrows, lips, skin, nose, everything. 

Oh. That was why Knife wasn’t fighting back. Who wouldn’t want someone like that? She looks so genuinely nice too. 

Before Suitcase is able to speak, Knife finally says something that gives Suitcase hope. “Yeah. I don't want to get married.” 

“You don’t?” Suitcase slowly whispers. 

“No. My dad doesn’t control my fucking life.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Suitcase cheers.

Knife smiles. “I’m gonna tell him to leave me the fuck alone. I’m leaving.” 

“There’s the Knife I know.” 

Knife smiles at her, and Suitcase realizes why she didn’t want Knife to leave so badly. 

Suitcase wanted - no, needed - Knife in her life. Knife was so much to her, and she really didn’t want all of that to get married off to some other girl. 

Someone who wasn’t her.

Chapter Text

Knife’s sprawled on the grass, watching the stars in the sky. Well, not really, considering the smog is way too high for him to actually see anything, but it’s fine because he can’t seem to stop looking at Suitcase. 

She’s wearing jeans and a tank top, her hoodie thrown behind her. Her arm’s bruised from her mother, again, this time on her right arm. It’s wrapped by one of Knife’s spare shirts, the red barely seeping through the white fabric. Her eyes are wide as she stares into the night sky, and she seems… at peace. 

Knife tries to look away, but finds himself unable. She’s just so… pretty like this. So perfect. 

Knife knows he shouldn’t be thinking about Suitcase like that, but he couldn’t help it. He fucking loved her. 

There. He said it. Or, though it. Yeah, over the last few months, Knife had figured out that his infatuation for her wasn’t just what one had for a best friend. He thought of her as more than a friend. And, he wanted her to think the same. 

But Knife couldn’t force her to feel some way. And there was no way in hell that Knife was disturbing what they had going on with some stupid love confession. Suitcase was way too important to lose because of silly teenage hormones. 

That’s what Knife tells himself as he pries his eyes away from her and up to the sky, this time actually able to look at the sky. 

It’s only three more months until Knife has to marry that girl. Her name was Bow, but really, Knife only wanted Suitcase. 

Realistically, Knife had no clue how he could fix this. He (and Suitcase) and looked at the legality of this, at how Knife could fight against this, but Knife wasn’t about to announce his displeasure with his fiance in front of everyone.

And yet, Knife had the tiniest glimmer of hope. Running away was always an option. Plus, he had three more months. Maybe he could figure out a way to stay. 

To stay with Suitcase. 

Knife throws the shirt into his backpack and swings it over his back. His sixteenth birthday was in a week. 

A.K.A. the day he was getting married. 

Knife’s tux was hanging by the door. His fucking tuxedo. This was really happening. Knife was actually supposed to get married. 

Well, in his dad’s mind he was. For Knife, this was just the final push to leave. His backpack was filled to the brim, and he was wearing a big hoodie and some sweatpants. 

Knife grabs his phone, checking for notifications. No new ones. Which meant Suitcase was coming to the lake. 

He has no idea why he’s suddenly started to doubt her, but Knife knows that this is the last time he can see her.

Knife climbs down the wooden stairs of his house, jumping over the creaky step and exiting through the front door. He slowly walks through the rocky path to the lake, then pushes through the reeds to see Suitcase, already at the bench. 

Suitcase’s eyes are unfocused, staring off into the horizon. But when Knife takes his seat next to her, she blinks and smiles at him. 

“Hey,” she mutters. 

Knife grins at her. “Hi.” 

“So. One more week until your birthday.” 

“Yep.” 

“One more week until you’re gonna get married off.”

Knife opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Not… necessarily.” 

Suitcase raises an eyebrow, turning towards him and meeting his eyes. “Did you find some way to stop it?” 

Knife hoists his backpack up, swinging it in front of him with a sly grin. “They can’t make me get married if I’m not around. Genius, eh?” 

Suitcase’s eyes widen, just how Knife expects them to. “You’re running away? Again?” 

“I can’t be here anymore,” Knife’s voice lowers to a whisper, as if someone’s around. “It’s not that I want to leave you, Suits. I just… can’t.” 

“You don’t have to leave! There are other places you can go! Pickle’s parents would take you in! Maybe Mic’s?” 

Knife smiles sadly, reaching out to turn Suitcase’s face to face his own. He looks into her sad brown eyes, feeling his heart beat heavily. “My dad’ll find me. I’ve thought and thought. It’s not like this is what I want, to leave you.” 

Suitcase frowns, and Knife sees tears sparking in the corner of her eyes. Knife really just wants to wipe them away, but something about her posture makes him feel like she’d just slap his hand away. 

“So, what, will I just never see you again?” 

“Probably not until we’re eighteen.” 

Suitcase glances down. “You won’t answer your texts?” 

“I’m buying a new phone, and deleting all my old contacts. I don’t want any way to be traced.” 

Suitcase pulls down the sleeves on her sweater and wipes her eyes, a small action that seems to shatter Knife’s heart. “Not even me?” 

“My dad’s seen us hanging out before. He’ll find a way to trace me through your phone.” 

Suitcase takes her phone out slowly, fiddling with it idly. “He can try. I won’t let him.” 

Knife snorts. “Trust me. You’re better off not knowing where I am.” 

Suitcase looks up at him, eyes red with not-yet-fallen tears. “I’m not, though. It’ll kill me not knowing where you are, Knife.”

“Please, Suits. Let me try to protect you. I don’t want to endanger you like this.”

That was the wrong thing to say, as Suitcase’s eyes got a little angry. “Protect me? I don’t need protection, Knife, I’m not a child.” 

“Just… trust me, alright?” Knife knows somewhere in his heart that Suitcase doesn’t need this, that he should give her his number, but he did want to protect her. Even if this wasn’t real protection, Knife could fool himself into believing he was doing something good. For her. 

“I don’t want to trust you,” Suitcase whispers, a tear finally tracing a path down her cheek. 

“Hey. We still have tonight. We can watch the stars until you have to sleep and I’ll leave. That’s what, seven hours until midnight?” 

“Seven hours isn’t enough,” Suitcase mutters. 

“I promise, it will be,” Knife smiles at her and reaches up to wipe her cheek with his thumb. 

Suitcase raises her hand and puts it over Knife’s. When Knife brings his hand down, it’s slightly intertwined with Suitcase’s. 

“Well, we’d better make the most of this.” 

They spend the next few hours crying and talking and laughing. Knife can’t help but stare at Suitcase. For all she’s been through, she’s only sixteen. He’s only sixteen too, and yet leaving home. Legally, they were children. What’d driven them to this point of hopelessness? Of only being able to rely on one another?

Once the sun starts setting and the sky is a vibrant orange and pink, reality sets in on Knife. Was he actually going to leave? It seemed wildly surreal, that he was finally going to leave this hellhole. 

But he was also leaving Suitcase. The one thing that mattered to him in this world. He was losing her. 

And yet, staying here would also lose her. He’d have to marry someone else. Suitcase would be gone from his life either way. 

So yeah. Maybe leaving was the best option. 

As the sun crossed the horizon and the moon started to take shape in the sky, Knife felt a pit building in his stomach. Hell, if he was leaving Suitcase, he’d might as well tell her how he feels. 

When the clock hit 11:00, Knife sits up. They’re laying next to the lake, staring at the sky. Their hands aren’t holding per say, but they are touching, and one of Suitcase’s legs is on top of Knife’s. 

Knife doesn’t want to, but he sits up slowly. “Suitcase. You should sleep now.” 

Suitcase blinks at him. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

God, how those six words tear Knife’s heart. He doesn’t want to leave her either. But instead of saying that, Knife puts a lock of hair that was covering Suitcase’s face behind her ear. 

“Suitcase… you need to go to school tomorrow.” 

The girl in question wrinkles her nose, sitting up. “I’ll skip school. Or, hell, I’ll run away with you.” 

Knife smiles a little. “Don’t you fucking dare. I know how much school means to you. I need you to do well, Suits.” 

“But I don’t want to do school when you’re not there.” 

“C’mon, Suitcase. You’re already top of our class, captain of Science Olympiad and you have all those extracurriculars. Don’t ruin it for me. I need you to get into a good college, to do well.” 

“But… it’s not worth it.” 

“I promise you, it is.” 

Suitcase frowns at Knife, and Knife smiles at her, feigning confidence. 

Hesitantly, Knife puts his hands on her face, slowly touching her hair. “Please, Suitcase, don’t do anything stupid. Stay strong. Stay, y’know, Suitcase.” 

And Knife kisses her. 

Once, sharp, bittersweet like bitter chocolate with a rich aftertaste. Straight on her lips. Suitcase gasps once, then leans in, like praying that that meant he wouldn’t go. That Knife would stay for her. 

After Knife feels himself starting to melt enough to never leave, he pulls away. Sharp tears are falling out of Suitcase’s eyes. 

“Please… don’t go,” Suitcase whispers, desperation so evident in her voice that it breaks Knife’s heart. 

“I’m sorry, Suitcase,” Knife grabs her hands, desperate to feel something real in this moment. “I love you. I love you so much. Stay strong, alright? Maybe, maybe I’ll see you on the flip side.” 

With that, Knife steps away, slinging his backpack over his back and starting to walk away. Every step feels like he’s walking against a rubber band, like a string connecting him and Suitcase. 

Just as Knife is about to break through the reeds again, Suitcase calls. “Wait!” 

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. But Knife can never resist Suitcase, and so he turns. 

“I love you,” Suitcase whispers, but the sound carries through Knife’s ears right to his heart. 

“I love you too.” And with that, Knife leaves her. Standing near that bench. Alone.

Suitcase’s mom wasn’t home again. 

She left a post-it note for Suitcase, saying she wouldn’t be home until after Suitcase’s school ended. Suitcase didn’t mind, because she sure as hell did not want to go to school. 

Suitcase didn’t cry for many things. When she got hit, she’d learned to stop crying. When Suitcase was bullied by her “friends” Nickel and Baseball, Suitcase had never cried. Not once. 

But Knife’s disappearance had left a gaping hole in Suitcase’s heart. 

Suitcase was curled up in her bed, tears dripping down her face. She loved Knife. That wasn’t an emotion she felt that often, but last night had confirmed it. 

Suitcase still didn’t know what she felt. Knife’s kiss had been… the best, bittersweet like sweet chocolate with a bitter aftertaste (does anyone see what i did there?). But no matter what Suitcase did, she hadn’t been able to get him back. She’d begged, cried, joked, reasoned, nothing worked. 

It seemed Suitcase wasn’t that important to Knife after all. If she was, he would’ve given her his new number after all. 

But he hadn’t. 

And yet, Suitcase couldn’t convince herself that Knife didn’t love her. She wouldn’t. That was all so real. Loving Knife, all of those moments, those were all real, real enough that Suitcase couldn’t do it. 

God, Suitcase knew she would miss Knife. Who else would listen to her rambles, would comfort her when she needed it? No one. Balloon could try, but no one would do it for her like Knife. 

Suitcase wants this all out of her head. Every emotion, every memory, gone. 

Idly, she remembers her mom saying she drank alcohol as a way to stop thinking about everything. Would it work for Suitcase? 

She shouldn’t be thinking like that. Suitcase was legally not allowed to get drunk. Suitcase should not ruin her life like this. 

And yet, Suitcase rolls out of bed and goes to the kitchen, climbing on a stool to open her mother’s liquor cabinet. There’s an opened bottle of some kind of alcoholic beverage in there. 

She shouldn’t. Suitcase should not. 

And yet, she does. 

Just a cup, she tells herself. She grabs a glass and pours some, letting the dirty brown liquid seep down her throat. It irritates her tongue and throat, and yet gives her some sense of satisfaction. 

Just a cup turns into two. Which turns into three. 

Soon, Suitcase can’t focus on anything but the feeling of her brain getting foggy. She can’t feel anything, can’t remember Knife. 

Except for one line haunting her, biting at the back of her head. “Don’t do anything stupid”. And here she was, being stupid. 

So, Suitcase chugs another glass, feeling too tipsy to move. She wants those voices to stop. Stop calling her a failure, to just stop. 

Why can’t everything stop? 

Eventually, Suitcase stumbles back into her bed, bumping into many things on the way. She curls up, forgetting about the open bottle on the kitchen counter. 

God. Why did Knife have to leave her? Leave her like this, a mess, someone whose brain is so caught up on him that she needs to resort to alcohol to stop thinking about him?

It was too much. Too much. That’s the last thing Suitcase thinks before her brain overloads and she passes out. 

Suitcase is four months clean. 

The next few weeks were hell. Without Knife to go to, to talk to, Suitcase started to spiral. The hallucinations got worse, the voices, even her mom somehow. 

And Suitcase kept drinking. 

She knew it was bad. But at that point, she’d stopped caring. 

Balloon was the only reason her GPA wasn’t in the pits from showing up to school for barely anytime and sometimes being hungover. He’d spent hours with her, catching her up and giving her her homework. 

And slowly, Suitcase stopped. Sometimes she wanted to grab another bottle and go back to the ease of not thinking. But Suitcase had learned to stop. She was focusing on school now. 

After all, that’s what Knife would’ve wanted. 

It’s been five months since he left. Suitcase would’ve hoped she’d stopped thinking about him by now. And yet, almost every moment after she wakes and before she sleeps (if she sleeps) is plagued by Knife. His smile, his comfort, him. 

Yes, she still wanted him. 

Yes, she still loved him. 

She was able to focus on school, and yet she still could only think about him. She wanted to find him. Suitcase wanted him. 

On this day, Suitcase is at the grocery store with Balloon. They’re picking up some flowers for Balloon, so he can go ask Nickel out on a date. 

This grocery shop is far away, almost 45 minutes by car. They were planning to eat at this fancy restaurant, but first Balloon wanted some of the flowers this grocery shop was famous for.

They’re walking down the aisles, idly chatting, when Balloon stops to look at some chocolates. Suitcase just stands there, trying to not look awkward. 

“Excuse me,” an employees voice cuts through the… silence. “Would either of you need some help?” 

Suitcase turns around, ears ringing at that voice. 

And there she sees him. Same hair, just longer, same face, just more tired, Same eyes, just more… lonely. 

Their eyes meet, and like fifty emotions flick through his eyes. 

The same flick through Suitcases as she whispers: 

“Knife?”

Chapter Text

Knife’s frozen. 

It’s her. 

Suitcase is wearing a long brown hoodie and some tights, her hair tied back in two loose braids. She looks more tired, probably because of school (not because of Knife, Knife did not do that to her), but it’s unmistakably her. 

God. Knife’s wanted to see Suitcase so badly since he left. But every time he approached her window, Knife was scared. 

Scared of her being mad at him. Scared of something going wrong. 

Scared of her moving on. 

Balloon, who’s standing off to the side, clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m gonna go now,” and with that, he walks away.

Suitcase takes a step towards Knife, looking like she wants to do something. Knife had an inkling of a feeling he should probably back away, for her safety or maybe for h-

His train of thought gets cut off as Suitcase slaps him across the face. 

“Ow! What the fuck?!” Knife yells, stumbling back a little. 

Suitcase crosses her arms and pouts. “You left me on that lake after telling me you loved me! Why are you surprised that I’m angry?! You didn’t even leave me anyway to contact you!” 

Knife frowns. All those points are fair. But… “I did it to protect you Suits!”

Suitcase rolls her eyes. “As I’ve said before, I don’t need protection!” 

Knife sighs. “You’re right,” he rubs his hand along his cheek where Suitcase slapped him really fucking hard. “And I’ve spent every moment after that day missing you. I wanted to come back and find you but I couldn’t.” 

Suitcase’s eyes turn downwards. “Even if I did need protection, you broke me when you did that. I turned to alcohol, Knife,” her voice has lowered to a whisper at this point, and she glances up at Knife, something adjacent to tears forming in her glare. “You almost turned me into my mother.” 

Knife blinks. “I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“I know you didn’t. But god, do you ever think?” Before Knife can respond, Suitcase continues, chuckling a little. “I know the answer. You don’t. You don’t think before getting into a fight with Trophy, before screaming at your father, before leaving me to rot near the lake.” 

“Suitcase, I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t do that. That was idiotic,” to that Suitcase snorts, “and I know it’s just because I was a dumb teenager. I still am. My sixteen year old brain thought that leaving you would be smart for some fucked up reason. That it would leave me as a hero, when I’m really a villain. I’m not some sort of savior Suits, I never was. I was never strong for fighting back, I was weak. I’m a weak fool, Suitcase, if that wasn’t obvious enough by me leaving you. I regret it with every breath I take, I miss you like hell. You have no reason to forgive me, but if you did, I would be the luckiest man alive.”

Suitcase’s eyes are welling up, and she’s biting her lip. Hard. “Tell me one thing,” she whispers, “did you mean it when you said you loved me?” 

Knife smiles, as warmly as he can muster. “Of course I did. I’ve loved you since I met you, and even if you - rightfully - decide to not forgive me, I think I’ll love you until I die.” 

Suitcase blinks away her tears, although a single tear manages to track down her face. “Come here, you big oaf,” she mutters, opening her arms and barreling into Knife. 

Knife hugs her back, holding onto her as tightly as he can. Her head is below his shoulders, something that sends a shiver down his spine. She might not need saving, but god, does she seem fragile right now. 

Knife still can’t believe this is real. Suitcase is back. She found him. After the last half a year of just wanting her, she was here. In his arms. 

Had he won in life? 

“Your first date!” Balloon teases Suitcase, driving her down to the Olive Garden where Knife was waiting for her. Sure, not very fancy, but they both were tight on money. 

“Shut up,” Suitcase snaps, smoothing down her hair once more. She’s wearing this short black dress Mic had lent her once she’d told Mic that not only had she found Knife, but she was going on a date with him. 

“Well, I need to hear everything,” Balloon says, pulling into the parking lot. 

“Alright, Gossip Girl,” Suitcase jokes, getting out of the car and walking to the front where Knife said he would be. 

And sure enough, there he is. Fiddling with a rose and in a sort of hand-me-down tux. He looks unsure, but the second he looks at Suitcase, his gaze brightens. It sends a nice tingle down Suitcase’s spine. 

“Suitcase!” Knife calls, walking over. He’s smiling a little, but his face seems glowing with excitement right now. 

“Hi,” Suitcase responds, smiling shyly. She fiddles with the side of her dress, wondering if it looks too long on her. 

Knife catches her hand and gives it a gentle kiss, something that makes Suitcase raise an eyebrow. “What, I know manners!” Knife says, rolling his eyes playfully. Then, his gaze softens. “You look beautiful, Suits.” 

“And you look really be- wait shit am I supposed to say handsome?” 

Knife laughs a little, a low deep sound that sends goosebumps springing up on Suitcase’s arms. “You’re fine, Suitcase.” 

Knife leads Suitcase in, but not before putting the rose behind Suitcase’s ear. She knows it probably looks really stupid, but at least he’s trying. 

They get seated, and the smell of bread and cheese cover the room, suffocating Suitcase in the best way possible. Her mouth starts watering - it’s been a long time since she’s had a good meal. 

Knife can clearly tell, because he looks at her concernedly. “Suits? When was the last time you ate a proper meal?” 

Suitcase scratches her head. “I had a sandwich for dinner yesterday?” 

“Why didn’t you eat anything for lunch today?!” Knife asks, raising an eyebrow in concern. 

“My mom had another guy over… she didn’t let me into the kitchen.” 

Knife curses softly in Russian, something that Suitcase finds really cute. “Well, text me next time you don’t have something to eat. I’ll give you food.” 

“How? It’s not like you’re gonna come to school.” 

“…you’re right. But I’ll come all the way to your house to feed you, Suits. You don’t deserve to starve because of your mom.” 

Suitcase smiles a little, watching as their waiter introduces themselves and puts down their waters. Then, she finally speaks; “…thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. You’re always welcome.” 

The rest of their date goes without a hitch, until they leave the restaurant with their pinky fingers interlocked. It was something they’d randomly started doing using those random moments at the lake, and now it just felt… right. 

As they’re walking back to Suitcase’s house, Knife speaks up about the one thing that’s been bugging him. He’s not planning to go to school. He never was. 

So why did he suddenly feel guilty about that? 

“Suits… do you care about me not coming to school?” 

Suitcase doesn’t stop walking, but her pace slows. “Hm?” 

“Has my not coming to school been bugging you?” 

Suitcase laughs a little, a hollow laugh. “Well, I think the fact that you just stopped talking to me has been bugging me. But… I mean, I wish you were still there. I wish I could talk to you more, but… you’re trying. I know you’re in a hard situation, so I’m not holding it against you. I still love all the time I get to spend with you.” 

Knife smiles at her, then turns her towards that rocky path and leads her down the path to the lake. 

“Why’re we going here?” Suitcase whispers. 

Knife shrugs. “We don’t… spend much time here.” 

“We really don’t,” Suitcase whacks the reeds out of her way, and sits on the bench. Knife takes a seat in front of her, leaning his head onto her knee. 

“I’m really sorry, Suits,” Knife mutters. “For everything.” 

“I know you are.” 

They stare into the sky for a little longer, until the car engines are faint and they both can feel sleep taking over their eyes. Suitcase scoots off of the bench, and leans against Knife, closing her eyes. 

Knife smiles at her, and grabs her chin before she can fully fall asleep. 

“I love you, Suitcase,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss her, but she pushes him away. 

“Wha-hey!” he exclaims. 

“Sorry, but last time you kissed me here, you left me. Can’t have that happening again.” 

Knife chuckles, then moves her hand away and kisses her once, firmly. “That was a promise. I’ll come back.” 

“You sure?” 

“I swear.” 

Suitcase smiles, then curls up and lets sleep take over her thoughts. 

It seemed the nightmares had gone away. 

Those and hallucinations were something Suitcase had been plagued with since grade six. Knife had helped tone them down, but lo and behold, once he’d left, once she’d taken that first swig of alcohol, not only had the nightmares returned full force, but she saw things every direction she turned. 

Suitcase still dreamed of her father dying. Of her mother throwing another bottle. But they weren’t as vivid. And they always had a somewhat happy ending.

For the last month, Suitcase spent every free moment with Knife. She did her homework while he was working, and then they spent an hour or two doing random shit. He’d never legally dropped out of school, so they’d spent quite a while figuring out how to deal with that, but their time was mostly spent near the lake. 

Near their lake. 

Hand in hand, body pressed against body, suddenly everything didn’t seem like it mattered. Her mother’s deteriorating state, the fact that the cigars (Suitcase hadn’t known about them. What else had her mother been hiding?)  had given her mother lung cancer that they really couldn’t afford, the fact that school was about to kill Suitcase, everything just stopped mattering. 

For half of a year, finding Knife seemed impossible. It’d seemed like Knife was just a figure of the past, something to tear herself up over. 

But he was here. And if Knife could be here, couldn’t anything happen? Could Suitcase win at life, somehow? Catch a break?

Not fall apart? 

That seemed quite possible when Knife was keeping her together. Suitcase knew she shouldn’t be so dependent on him, and yet, as much as Balloon tried to help her, Knife was the only thing that made Suitcase feel whole. 

She loved him. She needed him. 

Was it unhealthy? That was up to interpretation. But in her mind, it wasn’t. She was thriving. Her mind was clear, for once. 

Suitcase was free. She was there. She had Knife. Suitcase didn’t feel like everything was shattering into pieces. 

Suitcase’s life really was at it’s peak, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

Suitcase presses the gas pedal, driving (nonchalantly) towards the shop where Knife works. Ever since she’d gotten her driver’s license, she’d been going there almost everyday. 

It’d also been her freedom. She wasn’t required to be home at all times. If her mom wasn’t using the car, then Suitcase was… free. 

It was noticeable too. Balloon had commented on how much happier Suitcase had been, and how much she looked like herself again. 

It wasn’t just Balloon, even Knife had said that Suitcase was brighter. And in return, Knife was always happier around Suitcase too. 

Suitcase pulls up at the shop, getting out and opening the door. The manager, MePad, sees her and smiles. 

“Hello, Suitcase! Are you looking for Knife?” Knife lives with MePad because MePad is an absolute angel who cares about everyone. In return, Knife works full-time at the shop.. 

“Yeah!” Suitcase responds, smiling wide. 

“Knife!” MePad calls, and the man in question comes out from behind a shelf, in his uniform. 

“Suits!” Knife exclaims, dropping his mop and hugging her. Suitcase smiles a little, pressing her face into his chest. After a long and hard day of school, these small moments were everything she lived for. 

She also wanted to tell him about everything weighing on her chest. Balloon was a great friend, as were her friends in Student Council (she was Vice President) - OJ and Cabby - but none of them got her like Knife did. 

“My shift ends in an hour, you’re early. I’ll meet you outside in an hour, okay?” 

“Yeah, I just didn’t wanna be at home. I’ll be at the cafe next door.” 

Knife kisses her lightly. “See ya.” 

MePad coughs. “You can clock out early. You work enough overtime, it’d be fine.” 

“I work overtime because you’re so kind to me. It’s fine, MePad.” Knife says.

“Yeah, I have way too much homework anyway,” Suitcase smiles a little. 

Suitcase goes to the cafe next door - T.K.’s coffee - and takes a seat, waiting for Knife. She grabs her computer and opens her history homework, typing some shit about Rome. School’s always been pretty easy for Suitcase, who’s only hideout from everything going on (except for Knife) was studying. 

She also does as many extracurricular activities as she can, if only to leave her house. Suitcase does it under the guise of wanting to get into a good college, but it really was working out that way. Her guidance counselor was talking to her about colleges today, which had really put her future in perspective. 

She was going to leave. Move out in August. That sounded like a dream. 

…except she would have to leave Knife. She didn’t want to leave him. They were like Yin and Yang. Knife and Suitcase. They just… matched. 

That was what Suitcase wanted to talk to him about. Sure, everything seems fine right now, but what about their future? Suitcase might’ve been a chronic overthinker, but this seemed like a real problem. 

Suitcase tries to shake it out of her head and focus on the assignment in front of her, but it doesn’t work. The conversation with her counselor had gone very well, he’d commended her on her great work with building an application, and they’d talked through colleges that might accept her. 

But Suitcase didn’t want to leave Knife for so long. Leave her Knife. 

Eventually, Suitcase gives up and just orders some food while she waits for Knife. Just a coffee (with two extra shots), and some mac & cheese. 

He wanders in half an hour later, gray eyes searching the room until they land on her. The gray eyes brighten as he sits next to her. 

“Hey, Suits!” Knife looks at the mac & cheese, mouth practically watering. 

Suitcase pushes it over. “Here, eat it. I’m not that hungry.” 

“You sure?” Knife asks. 

“Yea-” Before Suitcase can even finish, Knife's practically shoving the whole thing down his throat. 

Suitcase giggles. “Calm down!” 

“But ughhh, I’m so hungry.” 

Suitcase rolls her eyes. “I’ll get you more.” 

“Wait, I can pay!” Knife’s about to get up, but Suitcase pushes him down. 

“You save your money. I wanna waste my mom’s.” 

“Fair.” 

Suitcase smirks and walks up to the counter, getting two more mac & cheeses (can you tell im craving mac & cheese). She then sits back down. 

“So, Suits, what’d you wanna talk to me about?” 

Suitcase glances at her feet for a second. “Well… I’m a senior…” 

“And I’m a dropout. Where we going with this?” 

Suitcase glares at him coolly. “Let me finish, moron. So… college applications start going in really soon.” 

“You’re gonna get into any school you apply to. You’re like, the best, and why would anyone wanna reject you?” 

“Well, if I do… I don’t wanna leave you.” 

Knife’s playful gaze softens. “Is that what’s worrying you?” 

Suitcase can feel tears start to clog up her throat. She just nods and subconsciously tries to lean into Knife. 

In turn, he scoots closer to let her lean against him. “Listen, we’ve made it through worse. I promise, it won’t hurt us. We can make it through anything, even long-distance.” 

“But… it’s not if we can make it through that,” Suitcase looks up at Knife mournfully, eyes a world away. “It’s that I don’t want us to have to. I don’t think I can go four years without your touch, Knife. You’re just… all I want.” 

“No,” Knife says firmly, so firmly it spooks Suitcase. “I will not let you and I be the reason you don’t go to a college. You’ve been working so fucking hard for this, Suits. You deserve to go get a full education.” 

Suitcase shivers slightly. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I’ll visit as often as I can. I love you way too much to let you sacrifice this for me. Please, ’Case, don’t give up on this for me. Pursue your dreams.” 

Suitcase swings her legs under the table. She really wants to apply for medical college, specifically veterinary. Biology’s always interested her, and she got top grades in that field, and she did do Science Olympiad for Bio. She wanted to be a veterinarian. Those were her dreams. They seemed unachievable, and yet…

“Alright,” Suitcase whispers, looking at Knife. 

“You promise you’ll try?” 

“I promise.” 

”Are you ready?” Suitcase whispers, all the envelopes spread out in front of her. It was early May, after all of her college letters had come. She, unlike most, had waited to open them. This was a big moment. 

Knife squeezes her hand slightly, something that comforts her. “I should be asking you that. These are your letters after all.” 

“You’re right. I’m just… terrified.” 

“And it’s alright to be scared. You’re fine. I’m right here.” 

He was there. She was present. She was fine. She could do this. 

Slowly, Suitcase starts to open the letters. Most have some sort of “Congratulations!” statement on them, although two have a “Sorry” on them. But at the end, after looking through all the letters, she has one conclusion. 

“That was good.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” Knife laughs. “That was great! You made it into IMU (inanimate medical college)! That’s your, like, dream school!”

”I guess it is.” 

“Fuck you mean “you guess”? I guess it’s still settling in, huh?” 

“Yeah. Wow. I… you think Mom’s gonna be proud of me?”

Knife kisses Suitcase’s cheek. “Of course she will be. You’re perfect. You’re awesome, Suits. You made it into one of the country's best medical colleges! You’re gonna be a veterinarian! I’m so proud of you, Suits.” 

“You’re gonna make me blush,” Suitcase mutters. 

“Too late, you already are.” Knife laughs, hugging Suitcase. 

Suitcase sighs into Knife’s chest. One step closer to leaving. It hurt. It really did. But maybe… she could make the best of it. 

“Knife,” she mutters. 

“Yeah?” 

“Y’know how I wasn’t planning to go to prom ’cause I didn’t have a date?” 

“Mmm?” 

“We’re allowed to take someone from outside of our school. So, Knife,” Suitcase raises her head, staring into his eyes, “will you go to prom with me?” 

“Thought you’d never ask,” he mutters, grabbing her head again. 

“So is that a yes?” 

Knife clicks his new tongue piercing. “It’s an of course.” 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

And when that night came, a month and a half later, Suitcase could feel all of that love coursing through her veins. She really loved no one more than she did Knife. He was special, one of a kind. 

Hers. 

She didn’t want to leave him. Not for the world. And college seemed like… a scary prospect. But maybe… maybe she could face it. 

With him waiting for her. Being able to talk to him whenever she wanted to. With Knife by her side, even if just via cell phone, Suitcase could make it through anything. 

“You’re the best thing to happen to me,” she mutters to him, looking up at him, with his freshly combed hair and new suit. 

“I could say the same about you.” 

“Maybe… everything will be okay. In life.” 

“Maybe we can make it through anything.” 

“That’s what I was thinking!” 

Knife laughs, a low deep sound that sends shivers down her spine. “I promise you, Suitcase, we will make it through anything. I’d go through hell and back with you. You’re genuinely my favorite person. We can do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.”