Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the words left Vi’s mouth, Caitlyn’s eyes were frozen, wide and staring, still tracing the syllables that had shaped on her lips and tongue. The party noise faded out to a faint, pulsing beat, the rhythm of bodies dancing crashing against the air around them, waves on a shoreline - dragging sand back out to sea. She felt hollow and empty, the phrase murmured having scooped out her insides and tossed them at her feet in a wet splat of feeling and anger and want , want for this woman who saw right through her to her darkest places - kept quiet and out of the daylight, spaces that were hers to tread and hers alone, tucked inside herself, secret.

The time - the place - was awful for this, crushed together in the midst of one of Jayce and Viktor’s infamous parties, bodies pushing and spilling all around them as the music blared. Caitlyn’s jeans and t-shirt were damp with spilled beer from earlier in the night - Vi’s ripped sleeve sweatshirt and faded black jeans fared little better.

“You don’t mean it,” Caitlyn replied, and Vi’s expression changed from - she didn’t know what. She was too drunk, and too woozy, and too filled with feeling to unpack or process or do anything but react. Vi’s face contorted from something into confusion, hesitation.

“I don’t?” Vi asked, and it was the right thing to say, because it allowed Caitlyn to cling onto her devices and push her narrative. It was the wrong thing to say, because it slowly crushed the hope that had built in Caitlyn’s chest.

“You don’t,” Caitlyn continued, “Vi, you can’t .”

Now, Vi’s face was contorting from something to confused to angry , and Caitlyn saw it before she had time to fully come to terms with it, immediately feeling as though she should back up, take stock. Her entire last fifteen seconds felt like reacting to an avalanche, a sudden exploding noise of panic and vastness that rolled down her calm snowy hill, and she had no idea where the fuck these thoughts kept coming from except that she’d always been a writer, deep down. She’d always found a way to push a narrative.

“Why not?” Vi asked, and got closer - her body pushing towards Caitlyn’s, another figure in the crowd that furthered the avalanche’s spill, pressing and swirling snow drifts that Caitlyn could see from her spot in the valley. She could start running, but that would make it worse - she wouldn’t be able to watch it go.

“Because-” Caitlyn began, halting as Vi’s hand rose slowly, hesitantly, fingers brushing against her cheek as she swallowed something hard , something that felt like guilt and hope and an eon of friendship because this was Vi touching her face . This was the same girl who had sat on the swingset outside of their school when they were twelve, the same girl who had lifted her up after the championship game at high school, the same girl who had held her art project steady and painted a sculpture for her final, her breath tickling Caitlyn’s arm and making Caitlyn feel things and have thoughts. This was the same girl who had declared them friends, always friends.

This was the same girl who had stood at Caitlyn’s back for forever, promised that friends stayed.

“Because,” Caitlyn whispered, and trembled, and was afraid, “you can’t.”

She put steel in her words, eyes narrowing, and she puffed up her chest and faced down the avalanche, willed herself, for once, to be brave .

Vi froze, her fingertips against Caitlyn’s cheek, a gaze that skated across Caitlyn’s eyebrows to nose to cheek, slowly framing her face, and Caitlyn was frowning, confused - it felt like a memorization, it felt like eating when Vi was starving, it felt like-

“Yeah,” Vi whispered, soft, sad, “yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.”

Caitlyn reeled backwards, frowned. Vi leaned away, made a space between them that was filled slightly with the crush of bodies from the house party - Jayce and Viktor around here somewhere, their shit strewn all across the house, travelling with the throng of bodies. Vi seemed more distant, face hardened, eyes sad.

“Something’s happening,” Caitlyn accused, pointing a finger - shit - around her red solo cup, liquid sloshing against the sides inside it. God, the alcohol buzz wouldn’t stop swimming around her, wouldn’t let her think for two seconds - two seconds so she could process what was said, how it was said, why it was said. It helped to think of it in the abstract - the it instead of the words.

“Yeah,” Vi admitted, and shrugged her shoulders, “doesn’t matter now.”

“What doesn’t matter ,” Caitlyn bit out.

“Nothing, I guess. I thought - but I was wrong. Unless I wasn’t?” Vi shot her a look, frowning, taking in her features - studying her again. Caitlyn felt like a raw nerve in her jeans and hooded sweatshirt, like she was exposed and open to Vi’s spotlight search.

“Vi,” Caitlyn tried again, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, why you’re - tell me what’s changed. Tell me something, please.”

“Was I wrong?” Vi asked again, and it was like a dream sequence, or a David Lynch movie - nothing was making sense. Vi had - she wasn’t sober, clearly, and Caitlyn was far past sober, steamrolling towards tanked. 

“Wrong about what? You’re making no sense ,” Caitlyn whispered sharply, and Vi was pressing forwards, and-

Vi was kissing her.

It was clumsy and quick, and lasted no longer than a moment - a clash of teeth and tongue. It left a lasting impression - one of heat and wet and a baseline sensation of want pooling in her gut, making her knees weak with it. She hadn’t been totally conscious - okay, she’d definitely been conscious of wanting to know what Vi tasted like, have that scarred lip pressed tight in the space where her top and bottom met, felt the pressure of what the ice-eyed goddess could do to her.

When Vi pulled back, Caitlyn scowled , finding her hands gripping the lapels of Vi’s checkered shirt, Vi’s hands braced around her shoulders. The bodies around them kept thrumming to the music, the speakers the music played through lacking bass, just a faint hum on every note that reverberated in her back teeth. Without the bass, she couldn’t mistake the avalanche rolling thunderously down towards her, too close to run, too far away to make out any details.

“Vi,” Caitlyn spoke into the mountain of snow that bore down upon her, but Vi was already pulling back, shaking her pink head. She stepped to the side and vanished into the crush of bodies, leaving Caitlyn with her hands posed forwards like a tyrannosaurus, staring after her as she went.

All she could think of was where did that come from? Was that always there? How had she not seen it?

But, of course, with the chilling clarity of the avalanche nearly upon her, the snow whipped around her brain, and she started to remember little moments when she felt the earth shift, the unstable snowy peaks swaying with every errant sound. Caitlyn could see the blast zones that would’ve started it, would’ve buried her beneath the ice and snow and shoved her to an end that she couldn’t see or predict.

If Caitlyn thought hard enough, through her alcohol-hazed memories, she could see the blast points that brought them here.

The avalanche of I’m in love with you .

Chapter Text

The swing creaked beneath Caitlyn’s weight, the push-pull of her Keds in the gravel matching with the protesting of the metal chains that suspended her, old and weather beaten joints squealing beneath the movement. The rhythm of it lulled her slightly, anchored her to here and now as she allowed herself to drift away, mind wandering and searching for something to latch onto. 

She was still in her dress, a navy blue with silver stars glittering around her modest neckline, trailing into little poofs in her short sleeves that were made of shimmering, frilly material. Her young face was filled with the ghosts of acne, her top teeth lined with braces that were trying mightily to close the large gap between her front teeth. Her dentist had mentioned to her mom that they had probably done all they could.

Her eyes were still rimmed red, and Caitlyn hated that. Crying always sucked, but crying in front of a boy - one who’d asked her to the semi-formal - that was even worse. Caitlyn wasn’t sure why she’d even cried, really - she hadn’t liked him all that much. Deckard was okay , but she had mostly said yes to avoid the embarrassment of saying no.

He’d made fun of her sleeves, and that had hurt. Her grandma and her had taken a day to pick out the dress, and she thought she’d looked pretty - her dad had told her that she’d looked stunning, his eyes sweeping her in that kind, thoughtful way. Deckard had made sure to make fun of them where his friends could see, right after he’d tried to kiss her and she’d backed away, hand on his chest, frown on her features. She supposed that she embarrassed him, but what kind of ass would do that just because he was embarrassed?

Caitlyn pushed at the gravel in her sparkly flats, the dust coating the shoe, spilling over onto her foot. She didn’t care, suddenly, a little angry about the whole situation. It didn’t matter if she ruined her whole stupid outfit. Semi-formals were stupid, and boys were stupid, and kisses - it was all so stupid .

“You look nice,” said a voice, and Caitlyn whirled her head around and yelped as a piece of her hair snagged the old chain of the swing, forced her head to jerk uncomfortably at the sudden pain in her scalp.

“Oh shit,” said the newcomer, “sorry, sorry - here, hang on.”

Crunched feet on gravel, and hands were suddenly beneath hers on the chain, holding onto her hair as Caitlyn stood on her toes, trying to lift the pressure that she was exerting on the swing with her bodyweight. The newcomer lifted the chain enough so it slackened, and Caitlyn managed to pull her hair away, smoothing it down as she turned to face the other girl.

She was shorter by a few inches, short pink hair messily buzzed on one side and combed half heartedly on the other. She was also dressed in semi-formal wear, though her garb looked more like Deckard’s - a suit that looked second-hand, seemed a size too big for her. Her tie was blood red, which didn’t match her ice blue eyes at all, nor the scar carved into her left eyebrow.

The girl seemed to notice Caitlyn’s examination and quirked a brow. “Do I?”

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows.

“Do you what?”

“Do I look nice?”

“Oh,” Caitlyn said, then smiled, trying to keep her upper lip curled to hide her braces, “yes. You look amazing.”

The pink haired girl grinned, shook her head. “I don’t, but thanks for saying so. You actually do look nice, though - you just come from the semi formal?”

Caitlyn nodded, still standing awkwardly in front of the still gently rocking swing set, its mate hanging relatively still, swaying gently in the slightly warm fall breeze. November was around the corner, and they had a few more warm days before all of this would be bundling up and covering faces with scarves, heads with hats, spending as little time outdoors as humanly possible. Caitlyn loved the fall - it brought with it new colours and new scents, the biggest reminder that time was passing.

“Me too,” the pink-haired girl said, and then, questioning in her eyes, gestured to the swing.

Caitlyn nodded her chin at it, took a seat on the one that tried to eat her hair. She forgave easily.

“Why’d you leave?” Caitlyn asked, just to keep the other girl talking. She was slowly realising what she must have looked like, red-rimmed eyes and scuffed shoes and braces on her teeth. The newcomer was all… tough looking, easy, confident in their movements. Caitlyn’s legs were still hurting from her growth spurt at the end of summer and sometimes she felt like a baby horse.

“I dunno,” the pink-haired girl said, sitting on the swing and pushing herself backwards so that she was standing upright with the swing under her thighs, her head tilted backwards. “I guess I just got annoyed by it.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. She pushed herself gently, back and forth, listening to the hinge of the swing whine with the movement. “Annoyed?”

“Yeah. Dunno. Lots of annoying parts of a semi-formal.” There was a brief pause. “People made fun of my tie.”

Caitlyn frowned at the tie. It was just a tie - nothing really there struck her as mock-worthy. “Your tie?”

“Yeah, or like. Me wearing it, I guess.” The pink-haired girl jumped lightly, and let her legs arc out so that the swing took her weight and rocketed her forwards, giving her a good boost of momentum. She immediately began moving her body to take advantage, swinging a little higher each time.

“I didn’t look good in a dress,” the pink-haired girl said, as Caitlyn’s head followed her back and forth movements.

“You look good,” Caitlyn responded, a shy note in her voice.

“Thank you. So do you.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth, hesitated. “Where do you go to school?”

“Zaun High,” the pink-haired girl, ceasing her wild pumping and letting the swing slow her down so she was more in line with Caitlyn. “I’m guessing you go to Piltover?”

Caitlyn nodded. The park they both found themselves in was almost a perfect halfway point between the two schools, often a meeting ground for school vs school summer games. Usually Zaun won.

“I’m Caitlyn,” Caitlyn blurted.

The pink-haired girl smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Vi.”

“Vi?”

“Yeah, short for Violet. Nobody calls me that, though. Well, sometimes my sister does. But mostly it’s just Vi.”

Caitlyn pushed herself on the swing a little, so that she was closer to Vi’s pace. Vi scuffed her dress shoes through the gravel slowing her down on two passes, and suddenly they were matching one another’s pace on the swingset, rocking back and forth to the combined protests of their chains.

“I got annoyed, too,” Caitlyn said towards the gravel, “kind of in a similar way. A boy asked me to go with him and then he made fun of my sleeves.”

“Why would he do that?” Vi asked, alarmed.

“I think he doesn’t like me much,” Caitlyn returned.

“No - why would he make fun of the sleeves? They’re so cool.”

Hesitating, Caitlyn turned to look at her poofy sleeves, hands clutching the chains of the swing as she glided through the air. “Yeah?”

“Yeah - they make you look cool. Like the bottom half of a cupcake.”

Caitlyn snorted. “A cupcake?”

Vi grinned, cocked her head. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Cupcakes are delicious ,” Vi enthused, shrugging her shoulders.

“Cupcakes are a food. You’re not supposed to compare people to foods.”

“Says who?”

“Says - I don’t know, says anyone.”

“Uh huh,” Vi smirked, letting her dress shoes continue to drag through the gravel, “I think you just made that up.”

“Well,” Caitlyn wracked her brain, “well, that means that you think people are delicious. You think my sleeves are delicious.”

“They don’t look like the whole cupcake . They just look like the - paper stuff. Around the cupcake.”

“Which would make my arms the cupcake.”

Vi rolled her eyes, chuckling to herself. Caitlyn, too, seemed to be fighting against a smile as she let the swing’s momentum carry her. Eventually, the chuckles died down and their gazes wandered - Caitlyn’s settled on the night sky above them. The winking stars were choked out by the city around them, light pollution making them seem faint and small, but in a clearing such as the park, they still made her feel smaller, insignificant. It felt oddly comforting to witness - everyone down here was nothing compared to all of that up there.

“The boy’s an idiot,” Vi said, snapping her out of her reverie, “most are.”

Caitlyn nodded absently, lifting a shoulder. “I don’t care what he thinks. He just said it and it was embarrassing.”

Vi nodded. “I hate people like that.”

Caitlyn hummed, and pushed her sparkly blue flats down so that they skidded in the gravel, kicking up loose dust that dotted her dress and blotted out the little sparkles upon it. She rose to her feet, wiggling lightly to shake some feeling back into her thighs.

“Yeah,” she exhaled, looking at the stars for a moment, then back down to Vi. “I was probably gonna let him kiss me.”

“Mm,” came Vi’s response, and Caitlyn still looked upwards, neck craned. So many twinkling lights. The night’s chill was settling in, and gooseflesh broke out over her arms, her elbows.

“Not because - just to know,” Caitlyn continued, “you know? They always make it look nice in movies.”

Vi had stopped swinging, was sitting with her feet planted in the gravel, hands on the crappy little chains. She rose, dusted at her dress pants half-heartedly, stepped awkwardly towards Caitlyn.

“Movies aren’t real,” Vi said, waving it away.

“Yeah, but.” Caitlyn shrugged again. “Still. Kiss the boy, the movie’s over.”

“I always kind of hated that,” Vi muttered, kicking some gravel with the toe of her shoe, sending stones skittering along the surface of the park, “the fact that the movie ends with the kiss. Also some of those boys are as fake as the movies are.”

Caitlyn nodded, agreeing silently, but still wanting to defend herself. “Still.”

“Yeah,” Vi nodded, finally meeting her eyes. Caitlyn hadn’t been conscious of moving her gaze from the stars, but they were zeroed in on Vi’s face, taking it in - ruggedly handsome, in a way, though still feminine, full lipped and blue eyed. Caitlyn felt a little weary, and she felt even colder, an uncharacteristically cool wind blowing through the park.

“I could kiss you,” Vi said, smirking, “so you can see what it’s like.”

Caitlyn made a face, not noticing the frost forming around the swingset - tiny spiderwebs of ice accompanying that wind, the distant sound of a rumble. “That’d be weird. I don’t know you.”

Vi shrugged. “Didja know the boy well?”

Caitlyn was silent, but shook her head - not in denial, but in exasperation of the moment.

“You don’t even know my full name.”

“What is it?”

“Caitlyn Kiramman.”

“Well, Cupcake,” Vi said, stepping towards her and offering a hand, bowing deep and mocking. Caitlyn giggled a little as she took it.

“Let’s pretend we’re at the semi-formal. The slow song just came on - you hear it?”

Caitlyn only heard the sounds of night, but played along as Vi tugged her closer, just close enough so that they were a few inches from touching. Vi settled a hand a respectful distance from Caitlyn’s waist - Caitlyn’s hand was on Vi’s shoulder, her other clasped in Vi’s loose grip.

They swayed to the left, then the right, and Caitlyn found with some surprise that Vi was a pretty good dancer, their movements in sync, no toes to trod on. Deckard had bruised her left foot within moments, a sudden and painful experience.

As they swayed, their movements becoming bolder, more elongated, Caitlyn realised that she was being led in an actual dance dance.

“You’re very good,” she said to Vi, and Vi smiled, gaze never leaving her eyes.

“My dad taught us. Said it’s the best way to keep active and light on the feet.”

“Well,” Caitlyn said, lamely, “it’s working.”

“Shhh,” Vi whispered, “the music’s too loud, Caitlyn. We can’t hear each other at the semi-formal.”

They kept swaying, and Vi began humming - a song that Caitlyn couldn’t quite make out. She was an awful singer, barely could carry a tune, but the toneless vibrations of noise coming from her throat were deeply calming, soothing, allowing the rumble she swore she heard and the frigid winds that were blowing through and the frost that expanded around them with every step to fade away, fade out. She was only focused on Vi, and the dance, and that sound of a hum trying to turn itself into a song.

Slowly, deliberately, Vi finished swaying her, paused to separate, and looked up at the sky. She looked around as if checking the other kids at the semi-formal, making Caitlyn chuckle at the theatrics.

Then, Vi leaned close, and Caitlyn leaned close, and the their breath mingled as-

“Caitlyn?” hollered a voice, and Caitlyn sprung away from Vi, her hands leaving Vi’s shoulder and wrist as she spun towards the sound. A chaperone from the semi-formal - Ms Diana, based on the hair colour - was crossing the park, looking slightly frazzled in the path lights that threw faded orange glows on the ground in perfect circles.

“Here,” Caitlyn called back, and she glanced at Vi to find the shorter girl’s hands in her pockets, back ramrod straight, taking on a casual air. She looked unbothered, achingly cool in a way that Caitlyn was intensely jealous of, with her top braces and puffy sleeves and flats that looked like someone had dumped sparkles on them.

“Caitlyn, there you are,” Ms Diana said, whooshing out a breath, “we were getting worried. Semi-formal is wrapping up, and - can I help you?”

She peered around Caitlyn and Vi gave a small two-fingered wave. “I’m Vi. We just ran into each other.”

“Hmm. Well, young lady, you best be off back to your own school. I’m sure your chaperone will be missing you. Caitlyn, come on - back to the school. Your parents will be arriving soon.”

Ms Diana brokered no argument, turned on her heel and began to walk back. Caitlyn hesitated, turning back towards Vi, frost gone, rumbling faded, icy wind died back down to the fall breeze.

“Um,” Caitlyn said, “thanks for the dance.”

“See ya around,” Vi replied, giving another two finger wave.

Caitlyn hesitated, nodded, and scurried after Ms Diana, leaving Vi in her rumpled second-hand suit, hands in pockets.

Caitlyn felt Vi’s eyes on her until she arrived back at school, until her parents picked her up, all the way home in the car. Invading the memory, pressing in on it, was a soft, slow beeping, an explosive, dug into ice and snow.

A blast point.

Chapter Text

There was a pleasure in summer that Caitlyn was determined to get the most out of.

It was the one time that she was allowed a break - a true one, where she didn’t have any sort of scheduled meditation or other scientifically proven good for her brain activities that her parents had decided. Between school, work, and extra curriculars designed to make her as attractive as possible to interested schools, she usually felt throughout the year that she was a coursebook or sheet of homework away from crumbling under her own weight.

But in summer, her parents decided that the school system was already doing the work for them. Three months off - a hundred and four days - meant that Caitlyn got her weekends back for her own time, even if she still needed to keep up piano lessons, volunteer hours, and Spanish lessons. Her mother wouldn’t tolerate slacking so long as Caitlyn expected them to pay for school, and so the deal held firm.

On Saturdays, Caitlyn would hop on the bike she’d received for graduating eighth grade and take off into the city of Runeterra, vague promises of being home by nine shouted over her shoulder to the caretaker, Mrs Featherstein. Her father was off at the clinic, and her mother had a hefty case on her hands at the law firm, so Mrs Featherstein generally minded her comings and goings. Her and Mrs Featherstein had an understanding - Caitlyn didn’t rock the boat, and Mrs Featherstein looked the other way on some of Caitlyn’s less ladylike pursuits.

Backpack on her back and excitement in her blood, Caitlyn raced along the streets of Runeterra, always going against the traffic like she was taught, so she could see the cars coming. She cut across a small park between Zaun High and Piltover Academy, legs pumping to take advantage of as much of her day as possible. Bursting out the other side, she continued along narrow streets, the neighborhoods getting less and less well-kept until she made it to a fenced in area surrounding a creek that wound its way through Runeterra.

Caitlyn waited patiently until no cars were passing by before peeling back the chainlink and slipping through the opening it provided, walking her bike into the treeline before anyone was the wiser. She walked for a few minutes before leaning her bike against a tree, swinging her leg off of it, setting her backpack down.

Around her was a small clearing. Six lawn chairs dotted around a half-rusted out garbage can that was filled with ash and soot. A makeshift ladder crafted from wooden planks and haphazardly placed nails worked its way up a trunk and led to a ramshackle lean-to that was built in the trees, every bit as dangerous as it had looked.

Vibrating with excitement, Caitlyn opened her backpack, removing a six-pack of Coke and a few ziploc’d sandwiches, setting all of her treasures out on a little folding card-table that had been brought and stored here years ago. She sat down on her favourite lawn chair, continuing to dig into her backpack until she found a lunchbox, opening it to find her airsoft pistol and small bag of pellets.

Caitlyn grinned, loaded the pistol, and hopped to her feet. She figured she’d have some time to practice her aim a bit while she waited for the rest to arrive.

When Vi eventually tossed her bike down haphazardly beside Caitlyn’s and made her way towards the sounds of pellets ricocheting off of coke cans, Caitlyn had gone three rounds, setting up the cans meticulously each time. She’d gotten very good at this over the summer, Ekko’s initial tutelage paying off in her purchasing her own airsoft pistol and trying it herself. She’d soon surpassed him, and Powder, and everyone else who’d picked up the interest for a bit before tossing it aside.

Caitlyn felt Vi’s eyes on the side of her face. She was usually aware of when Vi was looking at her - a skill she’d developed throughout the school year, when she’d first found this place - the small haven far away from any of her usual duties. Out here, she could forget the Spanish lessons and the piano lessons and the essays her parents made her write. She could also ignore the frost that sometimes formed on the trees in the summer air, or the rumbling that shook the leaves from time to time.

She emptied the clip of pellets, and shot Vi a grin - the gap in her teeth minimized, but still very visible. The dentist had sighed and told her mother that she had done all that she could do, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but think of a time when she’d confessed to Vi that she was insecure about it, and her friend had shrugged and casually said it’s cute .

“Hey!” Caitlyn said, stepping towards Vi and ejecting the plastic spring-loaded clip, “is Powder with you? I brought roast beef for her.”

“Um,” Vi said, and cleared her throat, “no. No Powder. Nobody but me, really.”

“Oh,” Caitlyn said, and something pushed up from her gut - something unfamiliar. Her and Vi had never been alone in the clearing before, always seemed to have more people around them to act as - what, a buffer? Ridiculous train of thought.

She’d known Vi longer than she'd known anyone else in the group.

She’d tried to avoid thinking about how she knew Vi, how she’d met Vi, but still.

“Why’s that?” Caitlyn continued, starting to move back towards the lawn chairs - Vi had never been one for shooting the cans or airsoft guns in general, preferring to stick to her makeshift boxing stand that Powder and her had put together.

“Oh, Ekko had an appointment, Mylo and Claggor are at football pre-pre training, and Powder’s doing something with Dad. It’s just us today.”

“Cool,” Caitlyn said, collapsing in her favorite lawn chair and pulling a sandwich towards herself, picking with the wrapping for something to do. She wasn’t hungry, exactly - she just had nervous energy.

“Yeah. Actually, it, uh, it works out for me. I had something to ask you while we’re both here.”

Caitlyn nodded, absently working a piece of saran wrap free with the nail of her thumb, giving Vi her full attention.

“Um,” Vi said, and dragged a lawn chair closer to Caitlyn, sitting across from her and throwing herself back into it. Her knees spread and her hands clasped between them, her thumbs rapidly twiddling as she looked at Caitlyn. Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. Vi was… nervous.

Vi was never nervous.

“So,” Vi started, frowned, and started again, “so. I’m gay.”

There was a pause.

Caitlyn slowly reached forwards, touched Vi’s knee, and said in a very serious tone, “thank you for telling me.”

Vi rolled her eyes, a smirk curling on her face. “Okay, yeah, fuck off.”

Caitlyn, still in her mock serious tone, “I had no idea. You pull off hetero-normative so well.”

“Yeah,” Vi muttered, “yeah I’m a regular Rose from Titanic.”

“I’m looking forward to your wedding to a middle manager paper salesman from Pennsylvania.”

Vi chuckled, reaching out to lightly smack Caitlyn’s knee, and the two grinned at one another - Caitlyn momentarily forgetting her gap tooth, lip curling downwards self-consciously.

“But, uh, in all seriousness, thank you for telling me.”

“Sure,” Vi muttered, and Caitlyn relaxed. The tension she’d been feeling was due to Vi’s probably being apprehensive about coming out - that was it. They could go back to being their old selves.

Except, Vi’s knee kept jumping - a constant up-and-down rhythm that drove Caitlyn to distraction as she kept playing with the wrapping.

“Is,” Caitlyn began, swallowing, “there something else?”

“Might be,” Vi muttered, pressing her hands to her knees and leaning forwards. She fidgeted in her seat, peering intently at Caitlyn’s face, and Caitlyn leaned back in apprehension.

“...Okay?” Caitlyn prompted, and Vi kept staring.

“Okay,” Vi whooshed out, spreading her hands, “so there’s this girl.”

Caitlyn frowned, and her face felt cold in the summer air. She felt a snowflake on her shoulder - an errant one, shaken loose from a disturbance that ran parallel to the shock of hot that ran through her at the words there’s this girl . Caitlyn fought it down, nodding for Vi to continue.

“Her name is… Kay- Katarina. She goes to Vaun High.”

Caitlyn nodded, unwrapping her sandwich fully. She paused to take a bite as she listened.

“She’s uh, tall. Really beautiful. Funny. I was thinking - I was thinking of asking her out.”

Vi fell silent, and Caitlyn watched her quietly, chewing slowly. The longer she chewed, the more time she fed out for her to answer. She wasn’t totally sure what Vi was angling for, here - advice? Caitlyn’s closest thing to a relationship had been going to the Semi-Formal Dance with Deckard and him mocking her puffy sleeves. Her blessing? Caitlyn didn’t know this KayKatarina from Adam, but Vi would make a good partner in her eyes.

Caitlyn swallowed her bit of sandwich, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Okay,” Caitlyn said, spreading her hands, “do you want, like, my input?”

Vi nodded.

“Well,” Caitlyn said, thoughtfully, “do you want like, just a date? Or a longer term thing?”

“I - dunno. I just like her a lot.”

“I’d invite her out to milkshakes at Delroy’s then, or something.”

Vi opened her mouth, closed it. “Is that where you’d take someone?”

Caitlyn nodded, pausing before taking another bite. She still wasn’t even really hungry, but this conversation left her with a burning desire to busy her hands and mouth with things that weren’t talking about Vi and a hypothetical girlfriend. Caitlyn couldn’t summon the picture to her brain - something was blocking it, a wall of ice between her and the image.

“If you aren’t having fun with KayKatarina, you can always-”

“It’s, uh, just Katarina.”

“Oh, well if you’re not having fun with KayKatarina, you can always wolf down the shake and leave. Ice cream headaches are probably better than being bored.”

Vi nodded, running her thumb under her chin, thoughtful, interested. “Where would you take her?”

Caitlyn thought about it while chewing another bite. Vi hadn’t responded to her suggestion - not really - but she was clearly nervous to talk about this, so Caitlyn would play along. It wasn’t like Vi to beat around the bush - this Katarina person must be someone special.

“Well, I think it’d depend on the person and season. Access to funds, too - I wouldn’t want to hurt someone’s part time job money or something.”

“Say,” Vi said, “it’s a low budget thing. Just a hangout - where would you take her?”

“Hiking, probably,” Caitlyn answered, “probably around here. Walk the trails, so that we could talk or not - just enjoy the nature. I’d like to go to the lake, too - not to swim, just to watch the fish, the birds. If we’re out late enough, get a little stargazing in - away enough from the bright parts of the city where we can really enjoy them. Maybe pack some snacks or something.”

Caitlyn lost herself in the picturing, her and this faceless, genderless entity that walked beside her and held her hand. “We’d probably take off our shoes and socks, roll up our pants, walk the water and watch the fish swim away. Um, if they were into it, I could show them my aim - I’m getting really good, and it’d be a good way to gauge their interest in my hobbies. We’d talk about anything other than school, or scholarships - ideally, my family. I dunno.”

Caitlyn shook herself, cleared her throat. “But, uh, yeah - hiking would be my guess.”

Vi was watching her, scepticism etched across her features as she leaned forwards in her beat up lawn chair. “We do that stuff all the time.”

Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders, awkward. “Yeah, but like - I think it’d be different than when we go in a group. Also, if I’m taking someone hiking, I’d want it to be like - a place I’m familiar with. Because of you guys, I’m really familiar with the trails and lake.”

Vi nodded, thoughtful. “Today?”

Caitlyn frowned. “What?”

With a clear of her throat, Vi gestured. “Would you wanna do that today?”

“Oh,” Caitlyn said, voice small. Vi froze, and rushed forwards.

“No, like - not because - just to practice, you know? For your date. Also, for my date, maybe. If-”

“Are you going to steal my date idea?”

“Uh,” Vi said, seeming to recover slightly, “not - if you didn’t want me to take it, you shouldn’t have given it to the date brain trust.”

Caitlyn smirked, shaking her head. “What about you? What’s your ideal date?”

Vi flicked a hand. “I hadn’t thought about it, really.”

“Huh,” Caitlyn said, lifting her shoulders. “I would’ve thought that you would be really about that.”

“About what?”

“I dunno. You always struck me as a closet romantic, I guess.”

Vi lifted her shoulders, not denying it.

After another comfortable silence of a few minutes - totally comfortable, just Caitlyn eating her sandwich and Vi staring at her like a lunatic, Caitlyn pointed. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird. I’m being normal. This is just - you know, normal Vi.”

“Well, normal Vi , what do you want to do today?”

Vi shrugged her shoulders, kicked at a pinecone on the forest floor, still seated on the beaten up lawn chair. She slid her gaze to Caitlyn’s, looked her up and down, and slowly smiled.

“How about a hike?”

Caitlyn laughed, crumbled her saran wrap up in a tight ball, and stuffed it and the rest of the food back into her backpack. She lifted it onto her shoulder, gazed at Vi with affection.

“Sounds good,” she said, and if she felt frost gathering beneath her shoes, a rumbling beneath her feet, a cold wind whipping through the forest limbs, she ignored it, pushed it aside.

“Thanks for trusting me,” Caitlyn said, seriously, “I know that it’s a hard thing to do. I really - appreciate your friendship.”

“Sure thing, cupcake,” Vi said, breezily, reaching forwards to slug at her shoulder, “we’ll always be friends.”

Caitlyn grinned - Vi smiled back.

Below their feet, through Caitlyn’s drunken remembrance, a blast point formed.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn's door swung open, Vi hot on her heels with her hard guitar case in hand. It was glossy and black, filled with blue, green and purple goofy faces in Powder's distinct style, looking like they were drawn on in chalk. Vi's acoustic was one of the few things she cherished, Caitlyn knew, and the fact that her sister had decorated it had always struck her as a little piece of Powder that Vi could carry around.

Caitlyn's bedroom, of course, was immaculate. Her parents would allow nothing less. She was permitted four posters of her choosing and they had rotated as she had gotten older - from horses to boy bands to a large poster with a Mark Twain quote etched across it. The walls were Robin's egg blue, her laptop and tidy desk tucked into the corner of her room overlooking the second story window.

Vi turned in a slow circle in the middle of the room, eyes roving over her space. It made Caitlyn nervous - nobody was really allowed up here.

Vi dropped the duffel bag she brought and set the guitar case down reverently, picking her way over to the computer chair and spinning it like she'd done it a thousand times before before sitting down with her knees spread wide.

"So," Vi said, clasping her fingers, "what's on the agenda?"

Caitlyn fidgeted. "Agenda?"

"Yeah, you know. What sort of rigorous schedule have you set out for us tonight?"

"I thought we'd go with the flow," Caitlyn said, hesitantly.

Vi's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"Okay, so I made an agenda," Caitlyn grumbled, cueing Vi to immediately start laughing, "sue me! I like to be prepared."

“I’ll bet,” Vi said, spinning around in the chair, head tilted back against the cushion. “So what’d you figure?”

“Well,” Caitlyn fidgeted, then dropped onto her bed, pulling out a journal from her bedside shelf. In her haste, three more of her journals flopped out, spreading open in upside-down triangles. The top one was labeled October - March featured a floral print that stretched across the spine and wrapped around the other side. Caitlyn inwardly cringed, watching Vi slowly rotating, back to her for the moment.

In a flurry, Caitlyn flung herself to the floor to shove the book back from whence it came, but it was too late - Vi had completed her slow circle, eyebrows shooting even higher somehow as Vi caught Caitlyn, now on her knees, in the middle of shoving her pink floral print journal back into its hidey-hole.

There was a beat, and Caitlyn froze for some stupid reason, mid-burial. Vi leaned forwards on the chair, craned her neck to see the title of the journal as Caitlyn twisted the book away, pushed it into the bedside table, cleared her throat.

She refused to look up at Vi, even as Vi’s socked feet began a steady pull towards her, the rolling chair making slow, steady squeaks as Vi made her way closer and closer to Caitlyn.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Vi’s face came into Caitlyn’s vision - starting with her floppy pink hair, teasing lift of her eyebrows, her icy blue eyes lightened with mirth.

“Whaaatcha got there, Cupcake?”

Caitlyn bit back her own smile. “Recipes.”

“Uh-huh,” Vi said, mockingly.

“I - um, collect recipes.” Caitlyn smoothed down the black journal she had retrieved, the one with the tentative agenda between its covers. “It’s a hobby.”

“A hobby.”

“Yeah. I, uh, love to cook.”

“A cooking hobby.”

Caitlyn nodded, and Vi nodded back, as if this was a sane and normal thing for her to learn.

“It’s - I write,” Caitlyn muttered, “sometimes.”

Vi nodded harder, leaning her head even further to the side so that most of her face was in Caitlyn’s stubborn vision. Caitlyn huffed lightly, gave in to fully take Vi in as Vi leaned over the armrest of the chair, bent nearly in half in her effort to meet Caitlyn’s eyes.

“Like a journal?” Vi prompted.

Caitlyn shook her head. “No - no, it’s more like, story ideas? Just things I think about.”

“Oh,” Vi said, smile spreading even wider, “that’s really cool.”

“Yeah.” Caitlyn fidgeted, pulling at the spine of her journal.

“I, uh,” Vi coughed into her fist, “I get it. I’m sensitive about stuff I write, too.”

Caitlyn perked at that, eyebrows raising. “You write songs?”

Vi nodded, hopping out of Caitlyn’s chair to zip towards her guitar case, unclasping the four buckles to reveal the glossy acoustic, one single scratch running down the body of it - a consequence of playing while walking, Vi had said while rolling her eyes. She wiggled back to Caitlyn’s computer chair, plopping down into it and began tuning by ear, strumming lightly.

Caitlyn was sitting ramrod straight, staring at Vi’s hands, the guitar. This felt like a big deal - she hadn’t even known Vi could write music, and - she was sure Vi didn’t share this with anyone, right? Caitlyn would have known by now.

“You uh,” Caitlyn said, as she swore snow swirled outside her window in the late August air, “you show many people?”

Vi paused in her tuning, glanced up at Caitlyn, and shrugged.

“No.”

Caitlyn shivered from the chill in the room, feeling her breath form icicles that dissipated in the air in a little puff. She crossed her legs, tugged her sweater sleeves until they covered her hands, settling in.

Vi began strumming, a slow, thoughtful music - mournful in its simplicity, slow and contemplative. Vi’s pace appeared to be unhurried, the rings on her fingers flashing as her hand moved smoothly up and down the frets, bending and pressing the strings into position.

The lyrics weren’t so much words as they were humming - a lilting, careful melody that showed how unused Vi was to actually performing with her voice, contrasted against the beautiful, competent way she played. It was a song to space out to, a song to take you from imagination to imagination, to look out the car window and watch the scenery roll by. 

When Vi got to the chorus, however, the lyrics came forth, bursting from her as if it pained her to keep them under wraps.

I miss you, every second that I’m not looking at you,
So lay with me on our floor,
Until the sun comes and goes,

You don’t have to be alone,

Anymore.

The guitar continued otherwise, and Caitlyn couldn’t take her eyes off of Vi, her fingers, her confidence, the way she transformed with a guitar in her hands. It wasn’t the same Vi that projected an air of toughness, a come-what-may attitude that would shoot spikes upon contact. Instead, it was a focused Vi, a passionate Vi, a Vi that took herself - and what she was doing - very seriously.

When the last chord rang out, when Vi raised her eyes to meet Caitlyn, Caitlyn was aware that her cheeks were flushed, the urge to fidget overcoming her as she rocked back and forth on the bed.

“What’d you think?” Vi asked, idly plucking the frets with her fingers.

“Amazing,” Caitlyn blurted, cleared her throat, shifted, “uh - it’s really, really good. Are you still writing it?”

Vi shrugged, lifting a hand to wobble it back and forth. “Kind of. Most of the lyrics are done, but - I dunno, I’m still messing around with it.”

“It sounds really, really good, Vi.”

“Thanks. You should come hang with the band sometime. Ekko would love it.”

Caitlyn smiled, Vi smiled back. Then, Vi clapped her hands.

“Okay, Cupcake. I showed you mine.”

Caitlyn’s smile froze. “What?”

“Read me something.” Vi’s grin spread so wide it looked like it was about to split her face in two, and Caitlyn chuckled, nervous, glancing off to the side.

“Um,” Caitlyn murmured, and Vi’s smile started to die, her body language leaning away, the picture of an apology not yet formed.

“Okay,” Caitlyn bit out, to halt Vi’s slow spiral, “sure. Yeah, maybe one story. An old one.”

Vi’s grin returned. “An old one.”

They were lying on their backs on the wooden floor, Vi’s hands folded over her stomach as Caitlyn held one of her journals against her collarbone, reading aloud from it. It was an older story, one she’d completed in the move from middle to high school. It was filled with anxiety, with a longing about needing to know what was about to happen before she actually committed to it. Friends moving on, friends staying behind, different surroundings, dark, uncertain futures. She wrote it in a language that she didn’t properly know how to wield yet, a mess of words smashed together, debris on a road she didn’t know how to pave.

Caitlyn felt more and more confident the more she read, taking solace in the few times she’d glanced up from well worn pages with no margins or lines, finding Vi’s eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. Once, early on in the story, she’d paused for too long, thinking Vi had drifted off or was getting bored, only to see those icy blues pop open, a question lighting them, spurring her forwards.

Halfway through her read, she’d gotten up to get a blanket. It was chilly in her room - unseasonably so. She didn’t catch the frost spider webbing across the glass of her window in her haste to return to the floor, the little cocoon of silence and warmth that her and Vi had carved out amidst all of her changing memories.

When she was finished, when the marginless pages turned to find no writing behind them, Vi let out a low, satisfied sigh, eyes opening to stare glassily at the ceiling.

“You’re so talented,” Vi said, curling her fingers behind her head.

Caitlyn placed the old journal to her right, folded her own hands behind her head, tried to match Vi’s vision. “Thanks. You are too.”

Vi tilted her head on the floor so that her throat was aimed upwards, projecting her voice towards Caitlyn. “You going into writing?”

Caitlyn’s shoulders wiggled against the floor. “My parents wouldn’t approve, I think.”

Vi hummed, wiggling a little deeper to get comfortable. “That might be the best part, you know? The lack of approval.”

Caitlyn fell silent, thinking about it. Vi, too, said nothing, allowing their cocoon to be warm and safe and quiet as the sound of their breathing, their thinking, rose and fell in tandem.

“Will you tell me about the band?”

Caitlyn heard the sound of Vi’s lips parting a few seconds before she spoke. “It’s mostly just us screwing around. Ekko plays bass, I play guitar. We’ve got this really great drummer from a concert band - her name’s Lux. You wouldn’t think she could shred the way she can on them. The singer’s - well, she just joined a few days ago, but she’s good. A whole Hayley Williams vibe.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Hayley Williams?”

“Yeah. You know - Paramore?”

When Caitlyn could only stare blankly back, Vi huffed in mock offence, leaping to her feet to grab her guitar again. She strummed the guitar twice, settled on Caitlyn’s bed as Caitlyn sat up, rotated on the floor to sit cross legged at her feet. Vi fidgeted with the instrument again, taking a black pick from between her strings, strumming one more time.

“Okay, so,” Vi said, “this is a shitty introduction to Paramore. I’m no Paramore - I’m not even Dylan in singing voice, but. This is Paramore.”

She began an upbeat strumming, rhythmic, happy and quick. She cleared her throat twice, the guitar strings singing out, before Vi sang:

“When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind,” she began, keeping her fingers light, easy. Caitlyn’s eyes slowly closed, letting Vi’s rough voice and the lyrics wash over her.

“He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it,” Vi’s voice was slow, melodic, unhurried. Again, Caitlyn found herself amazed by this Vi - the Vi who was so confident, so passionate, so competent in her craft.

“And my momma swore,” Vi crooned, reaching for the upper notes of swore , her voice straining against it. The key was too high for her naturally - Caitlyn could tell - but it wasn’t about perfection, here. It was about sharing.

“That she would never let herself forget. And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.”

Behind her eyelids, unbidden, Caitlyn saw themselves - sitting on swings, her in a dress, Vi in a suit, the scraping of gravel beneath their shoes and a distant and encroaching rumbling.

“But darling, you are the only exception,” Vi sang, and Caitlyn’s eyes opened against her will, snapping to meet icy blue. 

“You are the only exception,” she continued, and Caitlyn felt a pull towards her, a string tied around their waists, a pulley that jerked her forwards.

“You are the only exception,” Vi sang, but Caitlyn fought the pull, shifted so that her legs curled beside her, both of her hands pressed to the ground on either side of her waist.

“You are the only exception,” Vi finished, strumming a few more chords, letting the guitar ring into the silence. She paused for a moment, sliding her hand on the fret, the soft scrape of fingers against string filling the silence between them, then coughed into her hand, cleared her throat.

“So, yeah,” Vi said, smiling, “that’s Paramore. We might cover a few of their songs when we play our show this summer.”

Caitlyn nodded, pushed herself to her feet, rubbed her hands down her long sleeved arms, warding off gooseflesh that had erupted from her fingers to her neck. “That was awesome, Vi,” she said, smiling.

Vi flashed a grin. “Thanks. You should hear Dylan sing it. She’s good.”

Caitlyn nodded. “I believe it.”

They watched one another for a moment, before Vi scratched the back of her neck idly. “You - uh, what’s on the agenda from here?”

Caitlyn’s smile turned mischievous. “It.”

Vi froze, then glared. “It?”

“It.”

“We’re not watching It.”

“Oh, we’re gonna watch It. You’re not allowed to cover your eyes, either.”

Vi groaned, rolling her eyes. “This is evil, you know. You’re subjecting me to torture. Clown torture.”

“Exposure therapy,” Caitlyn said, morosely, “works, Violet.”

Vi barked a laugh, nails still scratching against her skin before shrugging. “Alright. For you.”

Caitlyn cooed, batted her eyelashes, and led the way out of the bedroom to the living room downstairs. Vi followed, setting her guitar down behind the open bedroom door. The soft thunk of wood on wood covered up the sound of a beeping explosive nestled in the ice and snow beneath them.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn tried not to make any noise when she got in, gently toeing off her shoes beside a pair of glossy black high heels, the drink still settling over her in a confusing fog. Outside, Mel’s headlights shone through the winter air, waiting for Caitlyn’s goodbye wave before the sleek SUV pulled out of the drive, leaving behind Caitlyn’s beefy sedan and a little blue compact car. The warmth of the little duplex immediately sank into Caitlyn’s collarbones and neck, rushing to chase all the brisk air from her brief snowy walk from the car to her front door, a leather jacket folded over her arms, the walk far too short to bother with it.

Caitlyn stood on socked feet now, watching Mel’s headlights. She could go back out there, she reasoned, the drink curling around the back of her neck, whispering in her ear. She could demand that they go looking for Vi - look in all of their familiar haunts, track her down, demand more answers. The drunkenness was whispering to her, seducing her to chase that feeling just as much as it was seducing her to take the pair of shoes her sneakers were sitting beside and chuck them at the wall, to release some of the pent-up anxiety the avalanche had caused inside her.

But instead, she raised a hand and waved through the frosty glass, watched as Mel flipped the SUV into reverse, eased back down the gently sloped drive. Instead, she closed the fancy ornate wooden door, flipped the lock, padded on socked feet to the living room.

There was a plate left on the coffee table, a glass marred with lip stains - the dregs of a sticky substance left at the bottom. Barely suppressing a sigh, Caitlyn scooped both porcelain and glass up, headed on slightly wobbly feet towards the kitchen, deposited the plate in the sink and filled her glass.

She was seeing Vi in reflections - warped and distorted, facial features she’d never worn coming to meet her. Every outside window was fogged over at the edges, giving the darkened landscape a picturesque, postcard feel, the brain fog and the environment adding to her sense that this wasn’t happening. Caitlyn wasn’t kissed by Vi tonight - Vi didn’t tell Caitlyn she loved her, didn’t spit out half-venomous platitudes and bitter words that sounded close to goodbye for some reason. It was just a nightmare. She was stuck in a picture book being read to a child, helpless as to when the page would turn.

Caitlyn downed half the water in a huge swallow, easing her throat from the burn of the cold. She hadn’t been in it that long, but she’d felt unsteady since the party. She rarely drank anymore - not since her first year of college, anyway - but she’d done well in her courses and felt like celebrating, Vi had agreed to come with her. Jayce’s house was probably trashed and he and Viktor had some tidying to do and some apologizing to their roommate in his forties who hadn’t known about the party and had emerged pissed sometime around two in the morning, but she’d gone, and celebrated, and…

Vi hadn’t kissed her. That wasn’t something that happened to her. Caitlyn was the sensible type. She changed the laces on her shoes every month and always used their carrots before they went bad. She had stacks and stacks of journals that she kept organized by the date they were finished being written in. She went on carefully researched dates with sensible people she could see herself settling down with.

A squeaking spring from the bedroom had her finishing her water, setting her empty cup in the sink, and moving towards the bedroom on silent - if a little unsteady- feet. At the last moment she veered, and headed towards the spare bedroom with one hand over her forehead, rubbing idly at a low grade headache that was spreading across her forehead. The spare room had a couch across the way from a computer setup - two monitors in front of a wall of scrap paper with scribbles all over it, charting what she was currently working on, names and dates and events. Right now, all of them read about dropping temperatures, ominous rumbles sounding in the distance, little warnings in black and white on curling paper.

Caitlyn fetched a blanket from the closet, curled up underneath it on the couch, stared at the computer screen. She was caught between two timelines; one that extended back to high school and had its roots deep in the gravel pit of the swingset she found herself at, the other starting back when she had watched Vi disappear into the crowd, leaving a taste on her lips, questions on her face. She kept circling that idea, searching for a place to land amidst jagged thoughts.

Vi hadn’t kissed her, Caitlyn thought, those types of things didn’t happen to her.

Except, it did.

Except she had.

Caitlyn was spurred into action far, far too slowly, her lead feet abruptly lurching forwards, pushing through the throng of moving, half-dressed bodies to give chase to Vi’s retreating back. She saw the pink hair ducked low, hands shoved into the black leather jacket Vi always found herself sporting, exchanging a few words here and there as Caitlyn fought to get to her.

“Vi!” she called, but it was swallowed up by the thumping beat, the droning of the music and the crashing of bodies around her, skin to skin and tearing cloth. Caitlyn managed to worm herself free of the dance floor only to find the pink head had vanished, a swirling puff of snow from the front door telling her that Vi was gone, ducking out into the frigid wind. Caitlyn continued her dash forwards, a frown etched into her features even as Ekko materialised from the crowd, Caitlyn’s momentum carrying her a little too far forwards, nearly bowling the shorter boy over.

“Woah, hey,” Ekko said, smile on his face dying when he caught a look at her, hands coming to cup her elbows. “Caitlyn? What-”

“Vi,” Caitlyn said, removing herself from his hold, “I need to - I’m sorry.”

She jerked away, dashing towards the front door as the words your coat echoed behind her, wrenching the handle open to see Vi heading down the drive, hood now pulled up. Cold air assailed her arms as she leapt from the porch to give chase, her stride quick - not a sprint, more a hustling walk that jarred her vision, made her aware of her legs. Vi’s back got closer and closer as Caitlyn reached out to touch her shoulder, curling her fingers around it.

“Vi,” Caitlyn murmured, and Vi froze mid-walk, tensing beneath her palm, “wait. What’s wrong?”

Vi hesitated, tension in her whole body, taut as a bow string. “I thought I was pretty clear.”

“No, not what - no, not that. You’re - something’s changed. Something’s happening. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Vi huffed out a breath, finally turned to face Caitlyn, immediately taking in her bare arms in the chill, her jaw quivering from the cold. Vi huffed in annoyance, immediately ripping off her jacket to lay it over Caitlyn’s shoulders, warmth permeating Caitlyn’s skin, Vi’s scent flooding her nose. It left Vi standing in a sleeveless hoodie and jeans, Caitlyn in a dress and black leather jacket.

“You can’t - you shouldn’t be out here, Caitlyn. You’ll catch your-”

“You were running,” Caitlyn snapped, clutching the coat closer to her chest, “you were running from-” this “-me.”

Vi was silent, watching her with her hands at her sides, waiting.

“You - you love me?” Caitlyn spluttered. “Since when? Why tell me now, when I’m with-”

“Because I’m leaving,” Vi said, tightly.

Caitlyn froze in place, eyes widening, locked on Vi’s. Sea water and fresh water, blending, mixing, a connection they’d felt a thousand times, but never quite like this. The confession surrounded by bodies inside Jayce’s house was a skeleton key that unlocked Caitlyn seeing the want in Vi’s eyes, the warmth of her gaze felt through the leather jacket, the dress beneath. Maybe it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, a rock buried in the snow, waiting for her to be dashed across it.

“You’re what?” Caitlyn asked, breathless.

“Flunked out,” Vi said, shrugging. “I can’t- there’s nothing keeping me here anymore. So - I guess I wanted you to know.”

The once was implied, unspoken. Caitlyn was sure time passed and moved forward between Vi speaking those words and Vi leaving, but to her it was a second, a heartbeat. One moment Vi was staring into her eyes, quietly admitting she was leaving, the next, she was gone, nothing but the shadow of a memory, a sleeveless hoodie and tattooed arms that were walking in the distance.

Mel was behind her, asking if she needed a ride, her sleek SUV beeping twice, lights flashing as she unlocked it.

Caitlyn was here again, on the couch in the spare room, her bedroom down the hall. She bundled herself against the chill she still felt, still in her dress, the leather jacket balled up under her hands. She sniffed it as she curled into a tight ball, breathing Vi in as a picture smiled down at her - a happy couple, Caitlyn and the woman in her bed at the end of the hall.

At the edges of the picture frame, frost began to form.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn arrived at Ekko's house a few minutes before the agreed upon time, her black Converse making little sound on the sidewalk as she hesitated. The garage of the house was wide open, revealing a drum set, an amp, two mic stands, and assorted bean bag chairs and wooden stools that Claggor, Powder, and Mylo were all slumped in or perched on respectively, annoying one another with exaggerated faces and prodding fingers. Caitlyn felt immediately relieved upon seeing them, grateful that this invitation wasn’t just her solo watching the band play.

She wouldn’t have minded , exactly, but Caitlyn had never seen them perform before - Vi hadn’t ever invited her despite hinting all the way back that it would be fun to see Caitlyn come and watch. Caitlyn had started to get the feeling that Vi didn’t want her to see them play after a while - either out of nerves or something else entirely. When Ekko had invited her today, she’d felt awkward saying yes and no, not wanting to step on Vi’s trust but also incredibly interested in how the band sounded together ever since Vi’s impromptu performances in her bedroom the previous year.

Caitlyn approached the garage carefully, making sure to enter into the shade of the metal door near the other three spectators, eyes roaming around the three present band members.

Behind the drumset sat a cute blonde, a few years younger than Caitlyn, talking to Ekko with a glimmer in her eye. She looked like a skittles bag - all rainbow coloured and bubbly, with big blue eyes and a pin sequin bow in her hair. As they talked she absently spun drumsticks, her legs crossed - pale and long, covered only by a pair of stringy cutoff jeans.

Standing just outside the garage door was another blonde woman, smaller and with a severe looking bob and angular features. She watched Caitlyn carefully, shrewdly, inhaling long and slow on a cigarette. Her stare made Caitlyn fidget, eyes bouncing from her to seek Vi out amidst the clutter of the garage.

“Caitlyn!” Powder cried out, pulled away from her tickle-fight with Mylo to hop over beside her elbow, grinning upwards, “you made it!”

“Of course,” Caitlyn answered, smiling, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Have you ever heard them play before?” Powder asked, grabbing her wrist and tugging her over towards the jumbled audience section. Claggor stood from his stool to make room, sinking instead into a brightly coloured bean bag chair that forced him to nearly curl into a ball. Caitlyn was steered into a seated position, Powder beaming at her.

“No,” Caitlyn admitted, “it’s my first time. I hear they’re quite good.”

“The best ,” the severe-looking blonde said, flicking her cigarette to the ground and crushing it underneath her steel-toe. She strode towards Caitlyn, reaching a hand with yellowed fingers towards her, a smile - perfect, straight white teeth - splitting her lips.

“I’m Dylan,” she informed, “lead singer of Lane Trash. ”

“We’re not calling us that,” Ekko broke from his conversation to say.

“And who,” Dylan continued, voice rich and dripping like candle wax, “is this delicious creature?”

Powder rolled her eyes as Dylan took Caitlyn’s palm and pressed the back of her hand to smiling lips, and rolled them harder as a flush overtook Caitlyn’s face and neck. “This is Caitlyn Kiramman. She goes to school at Piltover.”

“Ahh, a smart girl,” Dylan said, still grinning, “I always found brains devastating on a woman. You good at history?”

Caitlyn fidgeted a little under the attention. “Um, pretty good.”

“I’m terrible at it. How about you help me out with a date?” Dylan said, grinning wider.

“Dylan,” Vi said from the side door, and both Dylan and Caitlyn’s eyes jerked over to find Vi, electric guitar around her neck and a cropped tank top on her torso, looking annoyed, “stop flirting with the audience.”

“You didn’t tell me that the Piltie was a snack, V,” Dylan called, looking back towards Caitlyn with that sharp grin on her face. Caitlyn tugged absently at her still-captured palm, but Dylan didn’t release her.

“Well,” Vi said with a long-suffering tone, “now you know. Give her her hand back - we’ve got to practice Misery Business.”

Dylan relinquished Caitlyn’s hand, and Caitlyn wrapped her other hand around it, still feeling how dry and calloused Dylan’s fingers were on hers. It made her tingle somewhat, the flush of attention still buoying her as Dylan sauntered back towards the microphone stand, twirled it around. Caitlyn’s eyes dragged down her petite form, packed muscle into a tiny package, and felt dry, hot.

Her eyes flicked to Vi, staring at her, and goosebumps rose on her skin from the winter chill in the air. Vi’s eyes were fond, a little wary, concerned as she tilted her head towards Dylan, an eyebrow raised to say should I kick her ass?

Caitlyn shook her head, settled back into her stool, clasped her fingers between her knees as Vi moved to the amp, adjusted it for a few moments, tried a few chords.

“Okay,” Ekko said, sliding one hand up his bass neck, “three weeks till Summerset. We’re going with Misery Business as our closer, so you guys let us know what you think.”

“The closer’s the one the judges care about,” the drummer said, flinging a drumstick into the air in a high arcing twirl that landed behind her as she lunged for it. She cursed, snatching it from the pavement as Powder openly snickered. 

“Don’t care about your baton twirling, Lux?” Powder called, and Lux shot her a choice of finger as Vi began plucking at her guitar strings, playing a familiar chord progression at a low volume, Dylan’s head immediately bopping alongside it.

“Alright,” Ekko said, “don’t heckle our drummer. Let us know what you think.”

Vi fell silent on the guitar as Ekko began strumming a simple progression, lulling the four of them into leaning forwards until Lux and Vi leapt into action with a sharp snare hit and a hard, driving rhythm, Vi leaping forwards to wail on the guitar. They were perfectly in sync, the bow in Lux’s hair flailing wildly as her arms became tentacles, thrashing her drumset.

Dylan bopped along with the rhythm, unhooking the mic from its stand, pacing back and forth, practically prowling the small performance space. Caitlyn could envision her with a full stage to work with; every inch a performer, prowling the stage and glaring at her audience, all dark combat pants and ripped black tank top. She twirled the mic in her hand, looked directly at Caitlyn, and began to growl.

“I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top. She’s got the body of an hourglass - it’s ticking like a clock. It’s a matter of time before we all run out - when I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth.”

The lyrics were almost a purr, the microphone nearly swallowed by Dylan as Ekko and Lux kept a low backing to her vocals, Vi letting the guitar feedback on a diminished volume, wailing behind her.

“I waited eight long months, she finally set him free. I told him I couldn’t lie, he was the only one for me. Two weeks and we had caught on fire; she’s got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile.”

Dylan kicked back and bowed towards Vi, Vi bent close, their faces inches apart as Vi’s guitar playing began to pick up speed. For a moment, Caitlyn saw them both, silhouetted against one another in the dim light of the garage, all muscle and sinew and tough expressions, the summer heat making them both sticky with sweat, and something in Caitlyn clicked into place.

She remembered Deckard, and how she hadn’t wanted to kiss him.

She saw Dylan and Vi in this moment, and oh shit.

Oh shit.

Vi strummed on the guitar hard in three powerful motions, and suddenly the band went quiet - Lux’s drumsticks hovering in midair, Ekko gripping the neck of the bass, Vi’s arm raised high, pick in hand, and Dylan crouched low, poised. Then, all at once they exploded into the chorus, Dylan leaping forwards towards the audience as Vi bent low over her guitar, Ekko began swaying back and forth, and Lux’s arms became a blur.

“Woah, I never meant to brag, but I got him where I want him now,” Dylan sang, effortless power and rough texture coating her voice, “woah, it was never my intention to bra-ag, to steal it all away from you now.”

The band erupted into a rhythmic beat as Dylan leaned backwards, the mic gripped in both hands. “But god does it feel so good , cause I got him where I want him now. And if you could, then you know you would , because god it just feels sooooo,”

Here, Dylan met Caitlyn’s eyes, stepped so that she was straddling the mic stand, and pushed her hips forwards so that it leaned towards Caitlyn, catching it with one hand as she winked. She stepped over it fluidly, and Caitlyn’s eyes shot to Vi’s, seeing the guitarist frowning, eyes locked on Dylan’s as her breath fogged out around her in the summer heat, icicles that danced in front of her lips.

“It feels so good,” Dylan crooned, and leapt back towards the band as the song continued.

“How was it?” Ekko asked later, as the band sucked back bottles of water and talked about improvements to be made. Caitlyn mostly sat in stunned silence, feet curled under her on the stool, intermittently blinking between Vi, Dylan, and the summer sun.

I’m gay, Caitlyn wanted to blurt.

“Good. Great, even,” Caitlyn said, smiling, “you can really tell you guys like each other.”

“Hah,” Ekko said, shaking his head, “like each other? You think so?”

Caitlyn looked at him quizzically as, just then to prove his point, Dylan walked away from Vi, throwing her arms in the air, muttering whatever as Vi stepped after her, anger in her jaw only to be caught up when her guitar cord pulled taught, yanked the amp a few inches. Dylan stepped out of the garage, turned to throw a wink at Caitlyn and a smirk at Vi, walked down the driveway with a notable swagger, thumbs hooked into her pockets.

“They go at each other like cats and dogs,” Ekko said, sadly, “but they’re both really talented.”

Caitlyn nodded. “I can tell,” she said, looking at Vi, angry and magnificent, pulling the guitar off of her shoulder and setting it on her nearby stand.

“Hey, Caitlyn!” Dylan called from the bottom of the driveway, walking backwards down the sidewalk, “I was serious about that date, you know? Ekko can give you my number.”

Caitlyn missed Vi bristling in the moment. She’d look back out of her younger eyes and see the way the guitar strings strummed faintly as her fist tightened around the fret. She’d see the frost forming in the sweat at the tips of Vi’s hair, the way her ice blue eyes seemed even icier, colder in the forming snow.

She didn’t remember what happened for the rest of the day - the band messed around some more, Dylan-less, but she did remember asking Ekko for Dylan’s number in a quieter moment, away from everyone else.

She did remember texting: 

Hello. 

It’s Caitlyn.

Chapter Text

Obtaining permissions to go to Summerset was easier than Caitlyn had anticipated. She did have to prepare her presentation to her parents, ensure that her grades were above expectations and her attendance to school wouldn’t suffer, the group she was going with had a ride plan to and from the festival, her tutors were notified two weeks in advance and reminded twice a week so she didn’t take anyone by surprise, but when all was said and done, she was cleared to go and see her friends perform, as well as many other young and upcoming bands in the area. The proceeds to Summerset went to the Charitable Youths foundation, a charity that her father had co-chaired for years, and that did a substantial amount to lend legitimacy to the whole deal.

The fact that she left out the most important part, that her now-girlfriend Dylan was going to be performing alongside her friends, well - that part her parents didn’t need to know. Besides, Dylan hadn’t really put a label on it - on them - kept insisting that they were just ‘hanging out’.

“What do you think it means,” Caitlyn had asked Vi, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the shade of a willow tree, Caitlyn hugging her knees while Vi had her legs spread out, hands folded in her lap.

Vi squinted at the sun, picked a blade of grass, flicked it idly.

“What do you think it means?” Vi batted back. 

Caitlyn huffed.

“You’ve hung out with her longer. You don’t have any insights?”

“Barely a year. We don’t really socialise much together,” Vi said, flicking another blade of grass, “we’re too focused on practice. You could always just ask her.”

“I did. I have . She always says ‘for sure’ and smiles and changes the subject.”

Vi gave a half-hearted shrug, flicked another blade of grass.

“I dunno. I’ve never had a girlfriend, or whatever. You know way more than me already, I think.”

Caitlyn watched her for a moment, watched the idle fidgeting, watched the way Vi never was able to meet her eyes. Young Caitlyn thought of this moment as Vi having too much to focus on with Summerset less than ten days away, that the bad temper was from not quite nailing the song the way she wanted, worrying about her performance and the band’s and the opportunities to come.

But the Caitlyn who still felt the ghost of Vi’s kiss on her lips and was curled around Vi’s clothes, saw the frost dusting this teenage Caitlyn’s hair, the snowflakes melting on it as fast as they formed. The tree they sheltered under had dangling icicles, dangerous things that she wanted to pull them both away from.

Instead, she just watched Vi flick grass away, and she watched herself watch the green sprouts helicopter to the ground in lazy little spirals.

“Yeah,” Caitlyn said in the moment, and her breath was visible, “I guess.”

“So what’s up with you and Vi?” Dylan asked, chewing her way through a stack of pancakes. It was their fifth date, and Caitlyn was dressed to appear older, more mature - a light hand on the makeup that she’d found tutorials for on Hextube, taking three tries to get it perfect, a flowy sundress and sensible yet classy shoes. Dylan was dressed in a raggedy tank top, black jeans faded from the wash, ripped at the knee, and combat boots. She was all lithe muscle and bright eyes, blonde hair reflecting the summer sun.

“What do you mean?” Caitlyn asked, cautious, not knowing why.

“Mm. You guys seem close.”

“We’ve known each other for three years now,” Caitlyn answered, “since Freshman year.”

“Best friends?”

Caitlyn paused, considered. She’d certainly consider Vi her best friend, but she had no idea if she was Vi’s. Vi attracted people of all kinds with her wit and looks, and Caitlyn was the awkward lanky girl in the corner.

“We’re close, yes,” Caitlyn said, still speaking as if Dylan were an animal about to bark.

“Cool,” Dylan said, and wiped her mouth with her napkin, smirking at Caitlyn. “Your treat today?”

“Sure,” Caitlyn said, laying a few bills on the table. Her fruit salad had gone down smoothly, the tang of the pineapple and mango on her tongue. Dylan held the door for her as they walked out of the small diner - far enough away from her place that her parents wouldn’t see them, close enough so that she could bike there - and Dylan caught her wrist as they were about to walk to where their bikes were shackled to a lamp post, tugged her close.

Dylan’s height was such that Caitlyn had to nearly crane her neck to look down at her, but she saw Dylan’s eyes flick to the left for a moment, the smirk growing as she leaned close, eyebrows furrowed.

“You got something,” Dylan murmured, and brushed a thumb at the corner of Caitlyn’s mouth. Her other hand curved around Caitlyn’s neck, tugged her downwards, closer and closer.

Caitlyn watched, entranced, lips parting lightly as Dylan stretched up and kissed her.

It was quick, and chaste, and Dylan pulled away with that same smirk on her lips.

“Got it,” Dylan said, and Caitlyn flushed, stepped backwards, curling her hair behind her ear. She heard familiar laughter in the distance, paused to crane her neck around, and saw Vi, Powder, and Ekko walking on the other side of the street - to her right.

Vi was slowly sucking the straw of a slurpee, eyes on the two of them, icy blue eyes wide. The wind caught a drift of snow as it fluttered between them, and Caitlyn felt like saying sorry for a second before Dylan tugged her wrist again, the moment broken.

Caitlyn’s head swivelled to face Dylan as she squeezed her wrist, locked her fingers with Caitlyn’s.

“Hey, I’ll text you,” Dylan said, breezily, and unhooked her lock from her bike - not having actually locked it in the first place, just made it appear locked. She hopped on and rode away without a backwards glance, leaving Caitlyn to stand on the sidewalk, tasting the afterburn of cigarettes and citrus, feeling the chill of Vi’s gaze.

She worked her lock through its combination, hopped on her bike, and stared after Dylan, turned to stare after Vi.

It was a week until Summerset.

Caitlyn wore a black T-shirt and jeans, the words The Thrash Pack stylized on the front. Powder gave it to her to complete her ‘concert’ look, and the group of them - the band, the groupies, and Caitlyn herself - managed to find a spot on the upstairs terrace, pressed against the railing so they could get a bird’s eye view of the bands performing. To keep their spot from the throng of festival goers, they had to make sure two of them were always pressed against the balcony as the sweaty bodies pressed in and moved out, ebbing and flowing like the tide. Currently, Caitlyn and Vi were taking up their vigil, pressed against the railing with their elbows atop it, watching the performances.

Vi kept jiggling her leg, kept making sure her pick was in her pocket, twiddling her thumbs. The nerves were undulating off of her, making her twitchy, slow to respond.

Caitlyn couldn’t keep her eyes off of her.

“What are you looking at?” Vi snarled, and the Caitlyn of a few years ago would’ve squeaked, and apologised. The Caitlyn of now just lifted an eyebrow, smiled slowly.

“You’re different when you’re nervous.”

Vi huffed. “I’m not nervous.”

“Sure you’re not. You’re just tap dancing because you’re enjoying the K-funk.”

She gestured to the stage, where a lanky young man with a spiked up red afro was wailing on a keytar to a less than enthusiastic crowd. Vi couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, slumping onto the railing, her chin touching it.

“What if-” Vi said, hesitated, swallowed hard.

Caitlyn had learned patience. She leaned her own chin on the railing, watched the throng of people below thrashing to the music, the mosh pit still ongoing despite the music being… not what you’d call mosh-worthy. The band had a good lighting setup - flashing deep purples and reds across the crowd, making it look like it was intimate and cyberpunk-y to accompany the timpany being played on the keytar.

“What if I suck,” Vi said, quietly, and Caitlyn smiled lightly.

“Impossible.”

“No, seriously,” Vi insisted, “I’ll suck. I’ll miss every queue, and my guitar rhythm will be all off and Dylan will fuck up because of me and Lux will miss her entry point and Ekko will drop his bass-”

“ Drop it?”

“-and the crowd will be silent. No, worse, they’ll laugh . I’ll never be able to play guitar again, and I’ll go to sleep at night and close my eyes and relive this over and over and over again and nobody in the band will want to talk to me again.”

Caitlyn waited a beat, then slowly uncurled a hand from the railing and slung it over Vi’s shoulder, rubbing her back before squeezing her close in a half-hug. Caitlyn expected some resistance, but Vi leaned fully into the touch, pressing her forehead onto Caitlyn’s shoulder, exhaling as the timpany from the keytar honked out a final note. Caitlyn felt her shudder and sigh, gasp in and sigh out, inhalations and exhalations she felt at the hollow of her throat.

“You’re going to do,” Caitlyn said quietly, a whisper between them in their little corner of the festival, “so, so great.”

Vi looked up at her, and their gaze locked, the moisture on their skin from the humidity of a throng of people indoors, the tang of the air - sweat and heat and smoke from the dry ice machine - all mingling and serving to make Caitlyn light headed. Despite it all, she felt a pleasant draft, an ice cold blast from somewhere above, making her shiver lightly.

Dylan’s laugh rose above the crowd noise, and suddenly she was standing at their back, her head poking between their embrace. Vi jerked backwards, staring down at the crowd, gaze hardening as Caitlyn smiled over her shoulder, accepting a drink in a bright red cup with her fingertips, setting it on the railing and holding it.

“I spiced it up for ya,” Dylan said, winking before looking down at the crowd, “wow, that’s a lot of people, huh? Getting nervous, big kahuna?”

She jostled Vi’s shoulder, and Vi didn’t answer, staring down at the crowd, jaw set.

“She’s fine,” Caitlyn said, flicking her wrist, “what do you mean, spiced it up?”

“Take a drink,” Dylan said, winking, and then jostled Vi’s shoulder with her own. “Two more sets before we’re up, killer. We should get mic checked.”

Dylan pranced away, and Vi grimaced, watching Caitlyn stare down at her drink.

“Here,” Vi said, reaching forwards. Caitlyn handed it over gratefully, and Vi downed it in a single swallow, grimacing lightly and shaking her head.

“Ugh. She shouldn’t have done that to a lightweight.” Vi handed the cup back, shivered, and plastered on a cocky grin. “How do I look, cupcake?”

Caitlyn took her time looking Vi over. The band uniform was a black tank top, The Fast Lane curled in fiery letters with an old hotrod plastered on the front, the band’s silhouette rising above it. Vi’s shoulders and arms were on full display, every defined muscle popping out of the size-too-small shirt. Dylan looked cut in hers, but Vi looked built , like she could lift the stage herself and adjust it if they needed some more room.

“Fantastic,” Caitlyn said, throat thick, “knock ‘em dead.”

Vi grinned, and ducked into the crowd to catch up with Dylan.

Powder, Claggor, Mylo and Caitlyn spent the next two sets steadily working their way closer to the stage, using Claggor’s immense size, Mylo and Powder’s mean spirits, and Caitlyn’s profuse apologies to their advantage. They managed to make it to the barricade surrounding the stage, a straight shot to the stage. The band before The Fast Lane played upbeat ska that made them all bop around. When one of the members of the band - a willowy purple haired butch - whipped out a trumpet and began blaring out a solo, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause, the mosh pit to their right erupting with a fervor that sent clothing hurtling into the air.

When their final notes died on the air, the foursome found themselves clapping and buzzing with excitement, nudging each other and pointing at Lux as she took the stage, heavy black eyeshadow on, drumsticks whirling in her hands. She sat at her drumset, spun the drumsticks into the air, caught them, and began whaling on her kit.

The crowd went silent with the sound of the pounding drums - a war beat that kept time in their chests, Lux’s blonde ponytail helicoptering above her as she moved, lanky arms flashing up and down in a whirling, feverish pace.

“Can you feel that,” a voice - Dylan’s voice - purred from offstage.

Ekko walked out next, keeping his strums short and quick, more noise than notes flowing from his guitar, short rhythmic stabs of sound that kept time with Lux’s manic flailing. He had white face paint splashed across his eyes, his white hair in the same ponytail as Lux’s, eyes bright and blazing under the lights.

“Awwwwwwww shit ,” Dylan purred from offstage.

Vi walked out next, and Caitlyn felt her breath leave her lungs. Under the lights, Vi was an adonis - carved from statue and wielding a guitar, her arms flexing as she strummed out a heavy riff in time with her bandmates, strolling confidently, a jaguar on the prowl. She slid over to Ekko and began to play with him, the two of them all biceps and triceps, working their instruments like they were a part of their body.

At long last, Dylan sauntered onto the stage, walking with a wireless microphone directly to front and centre, an evil grin curling across her features. She stood smirking over the crowd, the energy shifting, rolling, and as she raised the microphone to her lips, the crowd seemed to lean forwards in anticipation.

Then, Dylan barked out a growling oh-ah-ah-ah-ah , leaping into the air and landing as the heavy riff developed into a hammering, heavy metal roar, Lux crashing down on the drum kit as Ekko and Vi lurched forwards, their instruments crescendoing as Dylan began to move around the stage, playing to her audience.

Caitlyn’s gaze slid to Vi, the way she worked the guitar, the way she bit her lip in concentration as she worked the fret, the way she flicked her hair to the side as the sweat weighed it down and pressed it towards her eye, and despite the push of bodies at her back and the warm barricade in front of her, she had to keep adjusting her grip because of the frozen metal, shivered against the goosebumps that erupted across her back.

Three songs in, and the crowd was lock-step with the band as they reached their last number, and Caitlyn’s chest grew tight with nerves. As the dying chord of flowers and sex rang out, a number that had Ekko switching to keyboard while Vi drank water, provided backing bass, and generally prepared for her heavy lifting on the next song, where she donned her wicked guitar, tuned it to the tune of a few precise strums, then gave Ekko a nod.

“You guys have been amazing,” Dylan said into the mic as Ekko and Vi began to play in tandem, the opening chords of Misery Business , their closing song, rising up in the background as Dylan talked, “and we’re going to finish off on a classic by Hayley Williams. This one’s for the sapphics.”

The crowd roared as Dylan danced backwards, and Lux leapt into action as Vi picked up the rhythm, the stage erupting in sound as Dylan headbanged next to Vi before springing forwards to purr into the microphone.

“I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top. She’s got the body like a grandfather and it’s ticking like a clock.”

Caitlyn frowned, shooting Powder a quizzical glance. Were those the lyrics?

“It’s just a matter of time before we all run out. When I thought she was mine, she caught her by the mouth.”

“What is she doing,” Powder hissed. The lyrics had definitely changed - like Dylan had search and replaced ‘he’ with ‘she’ and messed with the descriptors. The crowd leaned into it, whooping and flailing, eating up the changes.

“I waited eight long months, she finally set her free, I told her I couldn’t lie, she was the only one for me. Three weeks and we had caught on fire - she’s got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile.”

Here, Dylan jerked her head over her shoulder, and gave Vi a cheshire cat grin, met by a deadly glare.

Caitlyn’s stomach dropped.

“Oh fuck,” Mylo murmured.

Despite the changes, the band crescendoed, leapt up, and slammed the big note on time.

“Woaaaah, I never meant to brag, but I got her where I want her now,” Dylan sang, hopping over to Vi and turning to face her, singing into her face, “Woaaaah, it was never my intention to bra-aaag, to steal her all away from you now.”

Vi’s eyes smouldered, her bicep bulging as she slammed through the chord progressions and Dylan kept that big grin.

“And god does it feel so good,” Dylan purred, “cause I got her where I want her, now. And if you could, then you know you would, because God does it feel so,” she crooned, swaying her hips back to centre stage as Vi wailed her way through the song, lip bit so hard little rivulets of blood were forming at the edge of her mouth.

“It just feels so good,” Dylan growled out.

Ekko mouthed what the fuck even as Vi signalled to Lux, leaping ahead in the song as she leaped atop an amp and began to shred through her solo, taking center stage away from Dylan as Dylan retreated to the background, clapping above her head as Vi shredded, the spotlight highlighting every curve of her muscle, every droplet of sweat as she leaned her body back, squealing her way through the solo and leaving only Lux on the drums as Dylan’s voice came back in.

“Woah, I never meant to brag!” Dylan sang, sliding on her knees to the edge of the stage, crossing her legs as she leaned close to the crowd, “But I got her where I want her now. Woah, it was never my intention to brag, to steal it all away from you now.”

As Dylan hopped up, she moved to head back to Vi and Ekko stepped forwards, hemming her in with his bass as she turned the move into a lean, pressing up against Ekko’s shoulder to turn to face the crowd as Vi glowered at her back.

“But God does it feel so good - cause I got her where I want her now. And if you could, then you know you would, because God, it just feels so. ”

One last harsh burst of guitar and bass, one last staccato drum hit.

“It just feels so good.”

Three hard slams, and the lights died, the sound died, to be replaced with thunderous applause as the roof began to vibrate. It grew so loud that the foursome in the front pressed their hands to their ears and grinned, their happiness tinged with worry as they took in each other, watched with careful eyes.

Through the house lights, as the band left the stage, Caitlyn swore she saw Vi’s silhouette tap Dylan’s. 

When Dylan’s silhouette turned around, Vi’s silhouette cocked a fist back, and the lights came up for the next act.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn stared at her phone.

She was doing that a lot lately, looking down at it - a specific screen on it - and hoping for any sort of acknowledgement, an answer to a text she’d sent weeks ago still the last thing under the name Vi . Sometimes she could lose herself staring into that little dark blue bubble of her own words, the greyed out Seen mocking her with how concise and simple it was, despite everything it implied.

She still saw friends - their friends, in twos and threes, their little group divided as neatly as it could’ve been despite Vi having known them all far longer. They all seemed to intuit that without their little adventures in the forest to their found clubhouse, Caitlyn wouldn’t really hang out with anyone, and so they made the effort.

It would make her feel pathetic, this clear intentional friendship forging, if she wasn’t so desperate.

Caitlyn’s journals filled up, faster than ever before. The word ‘seen’ showed up over and over in all kinds of little poetic ways, worked between the overwrought and tear-drenched metaphors she forced onto the page. Writing sometimes felt like bleeding to her, like a cost she had to pay in order to make things in her head fall silent. What shamed her is that she was far more productive when she felt this - burning, an anger that still wasn’t totally abated and a conversation that went unfinished echoing in the back of her mind, bouncing around the walls of her skull.

Whenever she’d finish a story, or an idea, or even lyrics to a song - she had no idea how to play music, so they were more poems, she guessed, then actually songs - she would click open her phone and navigate to a familiar screen and read Seen over and over again.

Weeks, and no word given - from her, or from Vi.

“She just needs some time,” Ekko had said, shrugging his shoulders in his camouflage jacket that the entire group begged him not to keep wearing. It made him look like a soldier on leave - worse, it made him look like he was trying to look like a soldier on leave, and there was nothing worse than someone trying too hard, according to Powder.

“Time for what?” Caitlyn had asked, “She was the one who was over the line.”

“Yeah,” Ekko had mused, “I’m not really getting involved. I’m just telling you what she told me.”

Caitlyn had opened her mouth, closed it, frustration etched across her features. They were seated on the curb, the concrete soaked in sunlight, warming her tailbone in the heat. They each had a little cardboard cup of melted ice cream, and Caitlyn was halfheartedly stirring it, having long since given up on pretending to eat it ever since the subject of Vi had come up.

“Can you tell her-” Caitlyn began.

“Just told you,” Ekko had grunted, “I’m not getting involved.”

“No, not that,” Caitlyn had said, shyly, “I uh, I submitted something.”

That got Ekko to perk up, shifting on the curb to face her. “Oh yeah?”

“It’s not much,” Caitlyn said, hesitant, “but there was this short story contest, I, uh, submitted an entry. Vi’s - heard it before.”

Ekko nodded, lifting the little cardboard cup to his mouth to slurp the ice cream soup. “Cool. Where?”

“It’s this online thing,” Caitlyn had said, “it’s not a big deal. There’s a small cash prize. I, uh, just wanted her to know. The winners are announced in two weeks - at midnight.”

Ekko had nodded, rocked his head back and forth on his shoulders, then pointed his plastic spoon at her. “I’ll tell her for you.”

Caitlyn had smiled in gratitude, nodded her head, and spooned more rocky road soup into her mouth.

Later, in Dylan’s car, nestled against her shoulder as Dylan took the top down to gaze upwards at the night sky, parked far away from the city of Runeterra’s light pollution and surrounded by the smells of pine and maple, Caitlyn told her girlfriend about the contest, too. The two week deadline, confessed a little bit more about how submitting something had felt - like suddenly showing up to school with no pants, and hoping that either nobody would notice, or that they had showed up pantless, too.

“That’s a silly example,” Dylan had said, her chin pressed against Caitlyn’s temple as they both watched the stars wink and shine.

“Well,” Caitlyn chuckled, “I’m on the spot. But, yeah. It felt- it felt weird. Good, but-”

“I didn’t know you were serious about writing,” Dylan said, lips forming a frown near Caitlyn’s eyebrow.

“Oh, not - not much. I guess I just - it’s just a thing I’m messing around with, to de-stress.”

“You submitted a stress relief to a contest?” Dylan asked, brows furrowing.

“I- yeah. I guess I did.”

“Man,” Dylan said, smirking, “wouldn’t it be hilarious if you won?”

Caitlyn’s stomach dropped. “Hilarious?”

“Yeah, like, haw haw, here’s my dumb stress relief - thanks for the prize money.”

Caitlyn hesitated, forcing her lips to smile, keeping her gaze away from Dylan. Her shoulders were tight, tense - her jaw set for a reason she was having a hard time identifying. “Yeah, that - I guess that would be funny.”

“You should take me somewhere pricey if you win,” Dylan continued, smiling through it, “somewhere with fancy cheeses and shit. I’ve always wanted to go.”

Dylan continued talking, and Caitlyn remained staring at the stars, bouncing from one to another, searching for streaks across the sky.

When Caitlyn made it backstage, Vi and Dylan were being held back from one another - Dylan in a loose hold by Lux, and Vi with the full might of Ekko and a security guard - a might that Claggor immediately threw his weight behind, grabbing at Vi’s hands desperately as Vi tried to toss Ekko and the security guard aside to keep lunging for Dylan.

“Let her come,” Dylan snarled, skin split right through her temple, leaving a streak of dark red that disappeared down her throat and into her shirt. She was waving Vi on, jerking her chin at her, all teeth and snarls. Vi, by contrast, seemed deadly calm despite the fury of her movements - she was clear blue eyes and a serious expression, one set of knuckles bleeding heavily.

“What the fuck ,” Powder snarled, and leapt between them - Caitlyn hot on her heels, facing Dylan while Powder faced Vi, “are you two doing.”

“Stop it,” Caitlyn said to Dylan, “stop talking.”

“Stop it?” Dylan said, “ she hit me .”

“Vi, it’s not worth it,” Powder said placatingly.

“Sure it is,” Vi said, deadly calm, relaxing in Claggor’s hold for a moment.

“The only reason she even got me is because it was a fucking sucker punch,” Dylan continued, “she knows I’d kick her ass if it were fair.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Vi responded.

“Fuck you, Vi,” Dylan spat.

“Okay,” Ekko roared, “different rooms, now. Caitlyn and Lux, can you guys take Dylan somewhere else, please.”

“She can’t be here,” the security guard said, tapping Vi’s shoulder and earning himself a glare, “she punched someone. She needs to leave.”

As Ekko and Powder immediately moved to negotiation, Lux and Dylan were already stepping away, leaving Caitlyn momentarily trapped. She looked at Vi, and Vi looked back - an impassive expression settling on Vi’s features. Vi was usually vibrant and explosive, eager to share a whim or a joke or make a funny face, but this expression was cold, almost calculating.

It made Caitlyn afraid for her as she scurried after Lux.

With one hand on Dylan’s shoulder, Lux led her out of the room, and Caitlyn followed. They scooted past another band working their way onto the stage, moved through a series of steel doors until they arrived at a nearly empty supply closet, left the door open as they sat Dylan on a milk crate and Caitlyn bent to poke and prod at her wound.

“Why’d you provoke her?” Lux asked, as Caitlyn was gently wiping away as much blood as she could with a roll of paper towel, wetting it with a nearby sink.

“I didn’t provoke shit,” Dylan said, “I just sang the fucking song. Made it more sapphic - the crowd loves that gay shit, might give us the win.”

Lux rolled her eyes. “Right, and the dancing up on Vi was - what, theatre?”

“Showbusiness, kid,” Dylan said, winking at Lux and earning another eyeroll.

“You’re like two years older than us.”

“Does it hurt?” Caitlyn asked, voice quiet.

Dylan turned to look at her, and Lux looked between them for a second before huffing out a breath.

“I’m gonna leave you two here while I see if they have ice or a medkit or something.”

Caitlyn didn’t watch her leave, kept her gaze on Dylan.

“Babe,” Dylan began, “it’d take a lot to hurt me. More than Vi has in her body, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me that wasn’t about me,” Caitlyn said, voice still quiet.

Dylan opened her mouth, and Caitlyn ploughed onwards, pushing herself.

“Excellent,” Caitlyn said, rising to her full height, “because now I can tell you what a colossal idiot you are.”

Dylan’s eyes widened, jaw slackening as Caitlyn put her hands on her hips.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know exactly what that was about out there, but I know that it got Vi extremely upset. I don’t believe for a single moment that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you changed the lyrics and performed it that specific way.”

Dylan sat still, waited as Caitlyn began to pace.

“You’re good, you know - all of you together are really good together. But you’re here, willing to throw all of it away, on an immature impulse to needle at one of the most talented members of your band, sabotaging your best song in the process.”

“I dunno,” Dylan muttered, “I thought Down With The Sickness banged.”

“Idiot,” Caitlyn shot back, “completely stupid.”

“Well, look,” Dylan responded testily, “it’s not like I made her punch me when-”

“Was it about me?”

Dylan froze, eyebrows shooting upwards. “What?”

“Don’t be coy,” Caitlyn said, heart thudding in her chest, “was it about me?”

Dylan hesitated, shifting from side to side on the milk crate, linking her hands together. For a moment, she was unrecognizable - a vulnerable person, the tough exterior melting into something that Caitlyn wanted to protect and hold close.

“I- yes. Yes, it was about you. Vi doesn’t approve, I guess.”

Caitlyn nodded, jaw strung tight. “What are we, Dylan?”

Dylan’s gaze jerked to Caitlyn, frowning. “We’re-”

“ Don’t say hanging out. I hang out with Powder but I’ve never needled her other friends when they didn’t approve of me. You’re willing to get punched in the face for someone you’re just ‘hanging out’ with.”

Dylan opened her mouth, closed it, and huffed through her nose. “I dunno. I guess I wanted-”

She sighed, rubbed a hand through her blonde hair, stared down at her boots. Caitlyn didn’t offer an out, stood over her, waiting patiently.

“I really like you,” Dylan said, looking up at Caitlyn through her bangs, “I really like your smile, and your accent, and the gap in your teeth. I think it’s cool that you write, and you’re just - you lighten my load when I’m with you, you keep me from going to like, bad places, and stuff. Like I know we haven’t been together long, and that it’s too soon for the heavy stuff, but I think you could be my everything, you know?”

Dylan exhaled, eyes wet, and she stared back at the floor, knitting her fingers together. “But I, uh, told Vi that, asked her if she - you know, would bless us being together, since we’ve always had our differences, and - she couldn’t see past our history. Hated the idea of me and you. So I, dunno. I guess I took it out on her. ‘Got her where I want her’, you know?”

Caitlyn nodded, neck tight with the strain of holding it together, and thought back to the glare she’d seen on Vi’s face across the street from the diner - her first kiss with Dylan. Thought about all the times she went to Vi for advice, and Vi had been stubborn, unhelpful, projecting an air of disapproval.

“That was poetic,” Caitlyn said, awe in her voice.

“Yeah, well,” Dylan said, shrugging sheepishly, “I’m a performer.”

Caitlyn watched her for a few moments longer, and then said, “Well, I guess we’re girlfriends.”

Dylan smirked. “Guess we are.”

im sorry cupcake

You should be.

That was embarrassing. You could’ve really hurt Dylan.

I wish you’d think about these things before you went off half-cocked.

i know i fucked up

security wont let me back in

ekkos pissed at me too

we’re dq’d

Yes, well. You did assault someone.

she deserved it

Deserved being punched in the face?

yes 

Real mature, Vi.

you dont know her like i do

whered she go anyways - u 2 still inside?

Yes, she was ejected as well.

We’re at a diner eating a late dinner.

makes sense

sorry if i ruined your guys’ night

The date perseveres. Go home, Vi.

date huh

thought she was still stringing you along

Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.

you have got to be kidding

I’m not. And I would really like it if you accepted it.

shes what you want, caitlyn?

Yes.

(Seen.)

Chapter Text

“I’m really sorry, Caitlyn,” her father said, looking at her with an expression full of pity. He was dressed in a dark purple suit with a lavender tie, the pinnacle of Kiramman wealth and charm. Her mother’s gown was similar, deep velvet purple with gold and lavender trimmings, emphasising both of their blue eyes and dark hair. Caitlyn was dressed in her comfiest pair of pyjamas, sitting on her computer chair in her room with one knee bent and her chin resting upon it. On her desk, her laptop was open to the writing contest’s website, her Ctrl and R keys dented from how often she’d pressed them while waiting for results.

It was 8:30pm, and the winner would be announced tonight.

“That’s okay,” Caitlyn reassured them, dragging her fingernails up her calf absently, anxiety knotting her stomach, “you had other obligations.”

“If you win, we’ll celebrate,” called her mother from elsewhere in the house, “but you shouldn’t pin too much hope on your hobbies being recognized. It’s better to keep them as hobbies so they relax you.”

Her father glanced down the hall with daggers in his eyes, before returning his gaze to his daughter. “We’ll celebrate regardless,” he said with a wink.

Caitlyn flashed a weak smile, and watched him disappear around the corner, absently swivelling in her chair to look at her laptop. The clock read 8:32pm, and she didn’t need to refresh. The results were going up at midnight - every piece of literature about the contest said so. She didn’t need to keep torturing herself. She should get up, find something else to do on a Saturday night than sit here and feel sorry for herself.

She pressed the Ctrl key, hovered a finger over her keyboard, willing herself to stop, to not, to just-

Caitlyn pressed the R key, and watched the page reload.

“My parents are allowing a small number of people,” Caitlyn said a week earlier, “just to come over and see the results with me. It’d be amazing if you could make it.”

Her reflection looked hopeful, a tinge embarrassed. She smoothed her hands down her collared shirt, a quick and nervous motion. She didn’t have many friends at school that she could ask - her only friends were Zaunite kids that hung out in the woods with her. She’d made some acquaintances in various classes, but none with whom she could share something so personal.

“We can order food - whatever you’d like,” she continued to her reflection, then furrowed her brow. It didn’t sound natural - sounded a little desperate. The last thing she wanted to appear was desperate.

“They’re your friends,” she said to the mirror, attempting to project confidence, “they’ll say yes. Unless they have something else going on, which-”

She shook her head, gripped the countertop of her bathroom, drummed her long, slender fingers on it.

“Even if they don’t come,” Caitlyn continued, “that’s fine. It’s fine if nobody comes. It’s a stupid contest, anyways.”

Caitlyn checked her cell phone - set nice and neat next to her bathroom sink, tapped on the dark screen to unlock it. Vi’s text thread was open - it always was - and her fully typed apology and request to be there when the contest was announced sat unsent in the little dark purple box. She navigated instead to Dylan’s, saw that she hadn’t even opened the most recent messages Caitlyn had sent her.

Frustration shot through her. Nobody had told her that she’d have to choose between the two of them, and it hurt - it hurt that Vi wouldn’t stand by her even if she chose to be with someone that Vi didn’t approve of. It also hurt that their friends were walking a careful line, even though Caitlyn knew who they’d ultimately choose.

If they had to choose between the weird rich girl and the friend they’d had since grade school, Caitlyn saw that as an easy choice for them to make. Then she’d be back to square one, without the camaraderie they’d afforded her.

She’d had fun goofing off with Powder, watching her shouting matches with Mylo. She’d enjoyed hearing Ekko’s quiet opinions on art and science,  and debating current events with Claggor, the two of them the most well read of the group by far. She’d enjoyed relaxing near the lake with Vi and Ekko, or racing bikes with Vi and Ekko, or shooting targets with Vi and Powder.

The bathroom was filled with a sudden chill, gooseflesh popping up all over her arms.

They were her friends, she thought, as she stepped out of the bathroom to head to the little clearing.

They’d say yes.

Caitlyn hadn’t made it to the clearing since she’d sent The Text, felt like she was infringing on an unspoken territory that Vi had staked out. Vi had found it, after all, the first of them to have been out exploring and stumbled across this magical little hangout. The fact that she had shared it with Caitlyn had always made Caitlyn feel (cold) included.

But the memory of how willingly they’d accepted her spurred her onwards, made her sure of her position. They wouldn’t reject her. They were her friends, too. And even if Vi and her were drifting apart - if Vi couldn’t look past Dylan in her life and chose to stand on the outside - then they probably would take a while to drift with her. Maybe they could be here for her if it was just this once.

The anxiety of the contest’s deadline pressed against this new confidence, making her almost smile under the cocktail of emotions swirling within her. She needed to remember this feeling, use it in something. Her feet carried her forwards, nearly buoyant, vibrating with the anticipation of the conversation to come.

“Can’t believe she’d do that to you,” Mylo’s voice muttered, making Caitlyn’s pace stop.

“She’s in love, I guess,” Vi’s voice said back, and Caitlyn was struck by how much she’d missed it. They talked nearly daily before Summerset, and now all the communication they had was Caitlyn staring at Seen and regretting.

“Love is certainly a word for it,” Powder muttered, and there was the sound of glass breaking.

“Don’t throw bottles into the woods,” Ekko’s voice chided.

“Nobody’s around to tell on me. What are you, a cop?”

“An environmentalist. Don’t throw glass.”

Powder’s whatever cut underneath Claggor’s voice rising. “She’ll figure it out, Vi.”

“Maybe. I don’t care. Dylan can have her.”

Caitlyn frowned, hands shaking lightly on her backpack straps.

“Too right. We were fine before she came along, anyways. Who needs her.” Mylo called.

There was a lull, a silence, an awful pause that had Caitlyn torn between two impulses - push forwards or beat feet back to where she’d come from. This was a horrible idea - a terrible idea. 

“She wanted you to know about the story,” Ekko said, gently, “I think that means she cares about you, Vi.”

“She’s got Dylan for that stuff,” Vi scoffed, “that’d mean more to her than whatever I could do. Besides, she told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

“She… did,” Ekko said, and another crash of glass sounded in the clearing, with a ha! from Powder punctuating it.

“When is it again?” Vi asked, voice sounding strained, confused.

“Friday at midnight,” Ekko responded, and he sounded further away. After a moment, Powder yelped.

“Hey! Dude, give those back.”

“Stop throwing glass. I thought about asking if she was planning anything, but I can’t make it even if she was. I’m working at the Metro Gala party that night.”

“Am I on the schedule for that?” Mylo asked.

“Yeah,” Ekko said, sounding exasperated, “we’re working the trays.”

“Rubbin’ elbows with the rich.”

“Training starts for football season that Saturday,” Claggor murmured, “I could always just show up tired.”

“You guys are stupid,” Powder snapped, “what do we owe this girl anyways? She’s just a hanger-on that hurt Vi.”

“Powder-” Vi began.

“No, shut up, listen. I’m not keeping a Friday clear for something someone who hurt my sister might plan - Kiramman even said it wasn’t a big deal to Ekko.”

Caitlyn’s grip reached out, found the branch of a nearby tree, squeezed it until her hand grew moist.

“I thought you liked her,” Claggor said, softly.

“I liked her until she was an idiot. You guys coddle her all you want - I want nothing to do with her.”

Caitlyn let go of the tree branch, took a few steps backwards, and began walking back the way she came. They could reject her digitally, she decided.

That’d hurt less.

“I can’t make it,” Dylan said casually, and Caitlyn’s hair fanned out around her as she whipped to look at Dylan in shock. They were in Dylan’s car again - Caitlyn had paid to fill it with gas - and staring out at the stars for the third time in three dates. Caitlyn’s gaze had slowly moved from Dylan’s profile and more and more to the stars - at times like this, she’d wished she had her notebook, that she was comfortable enough to write in Dylan’s presence.

“What? Why?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’ve got a shift that day. That’s okay, right babe? You said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Caitlyn’s heart stuck in her throat, thinking of the four rejections in her text messages, and the one invitation unsent. “I - I guess not,” Caitlyn said.

“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t miss out on the money right now. I’ll be there for the next contest, though. I swear.”

Caitlyn nodded, and felt warm and comfortable in her clothes. She tried to push it out of her mind when Dylan was kissing her in the front seat, but all she could feel was the seat belt digging into her hips and the loose grip she had on Dylan’s tank top.

The fateful day arrived, and Caitlyn was sitting in the living room, a movie flashing colours across the walls - one of those dumb hetero movies that her and Vi had started their whole relationship making fun of. She was still in her pyjamas, the sounds of the movie helping to drown out the quiet, lonely emptiness that her house was steeped in. Normally she didn’t mind the quiet - it was easy to write in it, to lose herself in sentences and plots, sketched out with pencils and transferred to her computer. She wrote for herself, because there was nobody else she’d let in, not fully.

Now, it was officially out there - other people had read it. Strangers had read it. It was floating in cyberspace, no Caitlyn in front of the reader to convince them that she was a good person, no personality to distract from the work. If it was good, it’d hold up - if it was bad, it wouldn’t.

She didn’t know what was worse - if the feedback was negative or positive. Negative feedback meant that she’d be upset in the moment, but she would be able to relegate it to a hobby, crush all hope of this being anything close to something she could do for real. She’d keep writing in the quiet, and Caitlyn was content to do that.

But if it was good, if the feedback came back positive, then Caitlyn would be forced to face the fact that this is what she wanted - that she’d want to put words onto pages for the rest of her life.

The hero - a boy, naturally - kissed the girl, and the credits rolled in a horrible yellow font that made Caitlyn roll her eyes more than the rest of the plot had, and a tap at her front door had her shrieking.

She cowered for a moment against the couch cushions, fear spiking into her heart, groping blindly for the lamp at her side just in case she needed a quick projectile. It took another moment before she realized that axe murderers didn’t usually knock, but because Caitlyn was a thoughtful and level-headed woman she exchanged the lamp for a frying pan from the kitchen before she went to peek out the front door.

She hefted the kitchenware, smiling to herself. Probably Dylan, having cancelled her shift and come to support her. She glanced down at her pyjamas, grimaced lightly when the tapping continued at the front door, and moved towards it to peek outside.

Vi stood in the porchlight, currently running a hand through her pink hair, staring down the street absently.

Caitlyn couldn’t open the door fast enough.

At the sound of the front door opening, Vi’s gaze jerked upwards, meeting Caitlyn’s eyes as the two of them stared at one another, a frigid breeze blasting through the warm summer night, carrying snowflakes and icicles with it, making her shiver uncontrollably. Vi hesitated, smiled a little, matching the blooming teeth on Caitlyn’s face.

In one hand, Vi carried a six pack of root beer, and she rubbed her hand over her hair again.

“Um,” Vi began, “I’m not sure what you’re supposed to bring to a first literature contest party, but-”

She was cut off with an oomph as Caitlyn threw her arms around Vi’s ribs and squeezed, Vi choking out a short laugh as her arm - the one free of root beer - came around Caitlyn’s back.

“Hi, cupcake,” Vi said, warmly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Caitlyn murmured against Vi’s neck, squeezing, ignoring the cold.

Over Caitlyn’s shoulder, still drunk and groggy from the night of the kiss, an older Caitlyn urged herself to push through misconceptions, dig deep. The older Caitlyn could see the pang of longing in Vi’s eyes as she squeezed, the shimmer of hurt before the closing of eyes. The older Caitlyn wanted to take this Vi by the face and confess to her, explain to her who she was in Caitlyn’s life, how she didn’t have the tools to understand or explain what Vi had met to her then, but she does now.

That she’s come to so many realisations, now.

But she was trapped. The avalanche was burying her, immobilising her in her own time. Instead, she watched the younger Caitlyn tug the younger Vi’s hand, dragging her into the house. She watched the two of them hit the reset button, phones forgotten for each other’s company, whittling the time away.

“Did Ekko tell you about this?” Caitlyn asked, breathless.

Vi nodded, smiled slightly. “I didn’t want to miss it - not when I found out everyone else couldn’t make it.”

Caitlyn exhaled loudly, relief filling her bones. “I really didn’t want to be alone for this.”

Vi folded her legs, kept her palms on her knees. “Listen,” Vi began, “about what happened-”

“No, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. Dylan was being an asshole.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. That was shitty - you can date who you like, we can - I won’t stand in the way. I’m - we’re friends.”

“You’re my best friend,” Caitlyn said, openly, honestly, and an older Caitlyn pressed her hands to her cheeks with the memory.

“Best friend,” Vi repeated back, and then sobered. “Speaking of Dylan, Mylo saw her at the Gala. She didn’t want to be here?”

Caitlyn frowned. “She told me she was working.”

“Oh,” Vi said, hesitating, then shrugging her shoulders. “Well, maybe she got a job there or something.”

“Maybe. Money’s tight with her,” Caitlyn said, then pushed forwards, “do you think Claggor’s got a chance at starting this year? It’s been forever since we took in a game.”

They navigated the speedbump carefully, reacquainting themselves like long lost friends, despite the fact that they’d been apart a total of three weeks.  Vi kept announcing the time and Caitlyn kept curling deeper into herself, hiding away, holding away.

At the stroke of midnight, Vi was sitting at Caitlyn’s desk, and Caitlyn was hiding under her blankets.

“Just tell me,” Caitlyn murmured, muffled by her pillows, “just tell me they hate it.”

Vi was quiet, eyes scanning a glowing screen, her mouth set in a determined line. “You really want to hear what they said?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Just - if they hate it, just tell me.”

“They don’t hate it.”

Caitlyn shot upright, staring at Vi as Vi began to read.

“The prose captured in Caitlyn’s A Memory of a Moth is so advanced that you’d think it was written by someone who had lived a thousand lives. Imagine our surprise when it was written by 17 year old Caitlyn Kiramman, who we’re proud to announce as the winner of the Runeterra Creative Writing summit. Thank you all for your participation. See individual e-mails for feedback specific to your pieces.”

Caitlyn grinned, flushed, breathless, and Vi swivelled to look at her, a large grin on her own face.

“You’re a writer, Caitlyn,” Vi said.

“I’m a writer,” Caitlyn murmured.

“Are you a writer?” Caitlyn asked, shoving Dylan awake in their bedroom. The clock read 6:13AM.

Dylan blinked blearily, squinting over at the clock, frowning up at Caitlyn.

“Wha?” she asked, blinking.

Caitlyn felt wild, free, cold . Her bones still ached from racing around in the snow.

“Are. You. A. Writer.” Caitlyn repeated.

“Babe, it’s 6 in the morning, what- are you still drunk?”

“Your confession,” Caitlyn said, “the confession at Summerset. Where you told me that I could’ve been your everything. Did you write that?”

Dylan wiped the sleep out of her eyes, again staring at the clock, pushing herself further up in bed. Caitlyn could see her searching her memory, looking for something vague and insignificant, and in that moment she knew - she knew - that Dylan had never once been honest with her in their year and a half together.

“I was going to stay in last night. But I went out,” Caitlyn began, “because I found this.”

She dropped a pair of underwear in Dylan’s lap, a pair that was too big for Dylan and too small for Caitlyn, and neither of their styles. Caitlyn did the laundry - she knew every piece of clothing the two of them had.

“I was going to leave you on the spot. I’ve been planning to for a while. It’s been evident that you’re a freeloader for the past year we’ve been at school, and I’m done being your meal ticket.”

“These,” Dylan began, fisting the garment, “are-”

Caitlyn held up one hand, silencing her. “I’m not interested. You wrote that confession to me?”

Dylan hesitated, nodded.

“Recite it.”

Dylan opened her mouth, closed it. “I-”

I miss you, every second I’m not looking at you.

“I-”

So lay with me on our floors.

“I don’t-”

Until the sun comes and goes,

“I don’t remember.”

“You never wrote it,” Caitlyn said, firmly.

Dylan shook her head, pressed her mouth tight.

“Where did you get it?”

You don’t have to be alone.

Dylan smirked. “Vi.”

Anymore.

“I took it from her phone. She left it on the speaker during warmup. Had your name on it.”

Caitlyn nodded, then whirled on her heel. “Pack your stuff up. I want you gone when I get back.”

“Where are you go-” Dylan’s voice cut off as the front door banged shut, and Caitlyn went back into the cold.

Chapter Text

There is nothing so bitter as silence, Caitlyn found. The silence that followed her question expelled from her lungs, hanging in the air thick and frozen between Powder and her, the younger girl looking dishevelled, tired, rubbing the heel of her hand against her crinkly eyes. Caitlyn’s jacket - Vi’s jacket - did well against the cold outside, the Runeterra University student housing suburbia spread behind her, just enough to cut the wind enough so she didn’t feel the chill on her skin.

Still, her bones felt cold. Had felt cold ever since Vi had said those words to her, felt herself buried, panicked, lost.

Powder groggily looked at Caitlyn, and Caitlyn watched her re-absorb the words she said, ponder them carefully, considering.

“What did you say?” Powder asked, and Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“Is Vi here? Did Vi come home last night.”

“No,” Powder said, shortly.

“Do you know where she went?” Caitlyn ventured, and Powder continued to stare at her, hand falling to her side to engage in a full-armed, bad-tempered shrug.

They hadn’t been good for a while, Caitlyn and Powder. Not since Vi and her had their little text argument and made up afterwards. Powder always watched Caitlyn closely, when she thought Caitlyn wasn’t paying attention, made little sharp barbs or offhand comments about the level of Caitlyn’s friendship. Caitlyn, for her part, spent most of her last year of high school splitting time between her friends and Dylan, striking what she figured was a healthy balance - and Dylan had always begged out of dates anyways to hang with friends, complaining that Caitlyn had taken up a lot of her time lately.

“Why?” Powder asked, snapping Caitlyn out of her memories, spun little reminders out of ice and snow that had haunted her for twelve hours now - and counting.

“I need to talk to her,” Caitlyn said - no, pleaded. The house Powder and Vi shared with two other girls was quiet behind the smaller woman, in the way most student dorms tended to be at 8 in the morning on a Saturday. Judging by Powder’s bare legs, oversized sweater, and general exhaustion, Caitlyn doubted that she had even made it to sleep.

“‘Bout what?” Powder said through a yawn, and Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“Do you know where she is or not, Pow.”

“Maybe,” Powder said, “but I don’t give out that information to just anyone.”

The hardness of her voice had Caitlyn finally catching up, cogs in her brain managing to whirr in the right direction. She gave Powder one hard look, then took a step back from the porch, gaze aimed above the doorway to a second story window.

“Can I borrow your height, stretch?” Vi called from upstairs. Caitlyn looked up from unpacking silverware to answer back, finishing setting the spoons in the cutlery drawer - each sideways in a perfect row, cupped by their neighbours. Satisfied with the efficiency, she closed the drawer and jogged up the stairs, slightly winded by the time she wound her way into Vi’s bedroom.

Vi was grinning over her shoulder, arms stretched above her head to hang a curtain rod - deep purple curtains already hanging on it - to a mount that was way, way too high to reach.

Caitlyn laughed, stepping forwards to take it from her and stretching to hang it up. “How’d you get the other side on?”

“Jumped,” Vi said through a grin as Caitlyn began to tug the curtain down the rod, making the two bunches of beautiful fabric centred and straight, “but I couldn’t jump this side on without knocking the other side off.”

“You could’ve asked for help, Vi,” Caitlyn muttered pointedly, finished fussing with the curtains to take a step back, nodding with satisfaction. They were thick and deep and fitted with black out liner, perfect for sleeping in and missing class entirely. They had been Vi’s mom’s, once - it was important to Vi that they come with her.

The curtains, her guitars, and some clothes all fit into a single suitcase, and Vi was ready for college.

“I’m so glad we both got into RU,” Caitlyn said excitedly, fussing with Vi’s bedsheets next - Vi had a terrible way of putting fitted bedsheets on where they’d be all crumpled in the middle. Vi stepped back and grinned at Caitlyn, watching her fuss and fret.

“Well,” Vi said, shrugging, “I would’ve followed you anywhere. I kind of feel like a fraud, though.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at the bedspread, turning to look at Vi. “A fraud?”

Vi shrugged, staring down at the carpet as Caitlyn stepped closer. Caitlyn hesitated for a moment, then raised her hands to touch Vi’s shoulders, keeping her fingers light and easy.

They’d made up, the night of the contest. They’d returned to being friends - good friends, best friends, but something was fundamentally different. They didn’t initiate touch as much with one another, didn’t spend much time alone together. They didn’t talk about people they were dating - whether that be Dylan or the girlfriends Vi had throughout high school - and instead kept things about each other’s lives, wishes, fears, promises.

“You,” Caitlyn said firmly, squeezing Vi’s shoulders, “are the most talented musician I’ve ever heard in all of my parents’ tours of the most influential musical guests in Runeterra, and you are going to do great. Even if you hate it, even if you quit, you’ll do great at whatever you choose to do.”

Vi’s gaze locked with hers as Caitlyn squeezed her shoulders, pulled her in for a quick half-hug, resulting in Vi’s hands squeezing her hips as they stepped away, grinning. Then, Caitlyn turned back to the bedspread to keep tugging the material, and Vi cleared her throat, wiping a fist across her nose, staring at her hung up purple curtains.

“I’m glad that you told your parents what you’re majoring in,” Vi began.

Caitlyn shrugged. “Hard conversation seemed better than lying.”

There was a chill in the air as Vi’s face hardened at that, hesitant tongue flicking out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Caitlyn shivered at the cold, despite the late summer outside.

“Yeah,” Vi said, hesitating, and then, nodding to herself, nodding at Caitlyn’s back, she started to say listen, Cait when a bang suddenly sounded from downstairs, metallic clattering following it.

“Alright,” Powder’s voice called angrily, “who’s the psychopath who put the spoons in sideways ?”

Caitlyn let out a bark of laughter, headed downstairs while shouting it’s what decent folk do , and the moment passed.

Above the doorway, the window - Vi’s window - was bare.

Caitlyn shot daggers at Powder as she stomped back up to her. “She’s gone already?”

Powder shrugged again. “Why do you care?”

“Powder,” Caitlyn growled, “where did she go.”

“What,” Powder began, “so you can have your lap dog back? So you can keep her around on a leash and give her the occasional love and affection and keep seeing people who treat you like shit, knowing that she’ll be around?”

Caitlyn’s gaze hardened even further. “That’s not fair.”

“Fuck fair. You broke her heart. You-”

“How the fuck ,” Caitlyn seethed, “was I supposed to know , Powder?”

Powder’s jaw snapped shut, and her own eyes shone with anger. “You’re going to stand there and tell me that you thought all this shit Vi was doing for you was - what, just friendly behavior?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Caitlyn countered, “she’s the first friend I ever had.”

Powder paused, eyes still stormy, widening slightly.

“I was homeschooled until I was in eighth grade,” Caitlyn snapped out, “and even when we had trips with other kids, they didn’t like me. Too tall or standoffish or… weird . I got weird a lot. It was like everyone else had a rulebook on how to act and I was stuck without instructions, but when I got to high school it was supposed to be different. Everything said it’d be different. But - I didn’t have practice, maybe, or maybe I expected the worst and got the worst, but then Vi-”

She exhaled, long and slowly. Caitlyn stared upwards, where Vi’s bedroom would be, where those purple curtains were packed away somewhere with Vi’s guitars, where their little compact piece of shit car was probably filled up, gassed up, and headed out on the road. Caitlyn pictured Vi alone, and ached.

“Vi came along,” Caitlyn continued, “and yeah, maybe sometimes I thought - but she never made any indication. I didn’t want to presume, and ruin the only person who’d ever-”

Powder was blurrier now, Caitlyn’s own voice sounding thick and heavy. The blurry vision of Powder reached into her back pocket and handed over a piece of material that Caitlyn wiped her eyes and nose with, exhaling on a shaky breath.

“Dylan was easier?” Powder said, softly.

“Dylan showed interest,” Caitlyn said, barked a laugh. “First one to ever do so. Dylan was - I felt wanted , at least. I knew that the relationship was wrong, I think. I’d always known it. I wasn’t hurt when I learned she cheated, I was just…”

She searched for words, found them quietly: “disappointed. Angry.”

Powder nodded, scratching the back of her head. “Well, I think-”

“I love her,” Caitlyn said, quietly, “and I want her to know it before she goes. I want her to know that she isn’t crazy. So please.”

Powder nodded, exhaled, the hand that was scratching her hair roaming towards her face, rubbing at it harshly. “If you hurt her, Caitlyn, after all of this, I swear to god nobody will ever find you again.”

“I swear,” Caitlyn said, “I’ll try not to. I don’t want to. I just want her to know that she’s not - not alone.”

Powder nodded, then spoke - words that had Caitlyn sprinting to her car, throwing a half hearted goodbye over her shoulder as she wrenched the door open, threw herself inside, and sped into the Runeterra morning.

“You okay?” Caitlyn asked, high pitched and slightly too loud over the thrumming bass of Viktor and Jayce’s nerdy sound system. Vi frowned, bent close to hear her, both of them nursing red solo cups filled with dark liquids.

“I asked if you were okay?” Caitlyn repeated. Vi had looked morose, sullen, constantly staring around the party with a glower rather than her usual chipper, eager eyes. Vi lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, took a long sip, and then pressed a little closer to Caitlyn.

“I will be,” Vi said, then smiled, “are you okay?”

“I will be,” Caitlyn said, steel in her voice, a pair of panties in her mind’s eye.

“We were surprised when you came out,” Vi continued to shout-speak, “usually you’re too busy cramming, this time of year.”

“Yes, well,” Caitlyn said, clearing her throat, “I needed a drink and company more.”

They were both idly bopping to the music, their entire bodies swaying left and right, taking turns either stealing glances from one another or drinking. Caitlyn felt something offline with Vi, something weird, but it was like those fucking panties were fogging her reasoning skills - that or the crappy alcohol they were washing out with soft drinks just to soften the blow on their stomachs. Caitlyn watched Vi take a deep breath, turn to her, meet her eyes, and begin to say it.

“Caitlyn,” she began, “there’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Caitlyn sobered up, nodded, pushed closer so that she could hear properly.

“I’m flunking out,” is what Vi meant to say.

Instead, she started to speak.

“I’m,” Vi said, and in their past, with two kids nearby on a swing, the second blast point detonated.

“Uh,” Vi continued, and in a little clearing in summer air, with the words we’ll always be friends floating between them, the third blast point detonated.

Vi exhaled outwards, gathered more strength, and with Caitlyn’s words echoing around her bedroom, joining Vi’s rough singing voice, the fourth blast point detonated.

“I’m in,” Vi forced out, and near Caitlyn’s gaze on Vi’s biceps while she played guitar, the band’s tune echoing throughout the garage, the fifth blast point detonated.

Caitlyn’s eyes were locked on Vi’s, wide, frozen, anticipatory, fearful, and the silhouette of Vi punching Dylan framed the sixth blast point detonation.

“I’m in love with you,” Vi said, and right as Caitlyn was staring at that little Seen , comprehending it, letting it rock her, the seventh blast point detonated.

The words hung between them thick and heavy, and Caitlyn blinked, and understood, and realised , and with Vi telling Caitlyn she was a writer, with Caitlyn’s first contest win under her belt, the eighth blast point detonated.

A rumble had filled Caitlyn’s ears as she struggled to understand, fought against her own feelings of no, no, that can’t be true , and she stared at Vi and spoke:

“You don’t mean it.”

Caitlyn parked behind Vi’s little compact car, twelve years old and with rust and rot forming around all four wheel wells. The little car had served Vi well all throughout high school, traded among Powder and Claggor and Mylo and Ekko as needed until Vi had earned the rights to use it in college, Mylo finally having enough to buy his own used car that he could share back home. They still went to school in the same city they grew up in, but Vi liked as much independence as she could get.

Peeking out of a suitcase tossed into the back seat were purple curtains. Caitlyn bundled herself up in Vi’s jacket, touched her hand to the top of the compact, and set out over the snow, her boots crunching as she walked.

She heard Vi before she saw her - a faint creaking that split the air as she rounded a building and began to walk across the playground. In her mind’s eye, she pictured Vi’s boots scraping against gravel, sending stones skittering across the icy path.

Caitlyn stepped around the corner, and there was Vi, back to her, slowly pushing herself forwards and back on the swingset they’d met on. The Semi-Formal dance, the night cool and beautiful, the air charged with weird chemistry.

Caitlyn tried to be in both places at once - the night that she met the most important person in her life, and the day she told that person that she loved her back.

“You look nice,” she said, and Vi’s head whipped around to look at her, face frozen in shock.

Vi was dressed in a green long coat and jeans, steel-toed boots on her feet - not weather appropriate, but they’d keep the snow out, Caitlyn supposed. Her eyes were strikingly, vibrantly blue, and Caitlyn felt a curl in her chest that she could identify, now, even as she slowly picked her way across the stones, pulling a hair tie from around her wrist to put her hair up just in case strands got caught in the chain.

“I, uh,” Vi began, “don’t remember what you said back.”

Caitlyn settled into her swing seat, staring straight ahead, feeling Vi’s eyes rake over her profile.

“I didn’t say anything,” Caitlyn replied, “I just got my hair caught on the chain. You rescued me.”

Vi grunted, shifted to face forwards as well. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You were very gallant,” Caitlyn assured, and they fell into a silence, the only sounds the creaking of chains against the chilly air. Caitlyn felt bolder, now, surer, positive about what she wanted - but what she wanted felt so huge, so encompassing, she didn’t know where to start.

“I shouldn’t have-” Vi started, stuttering, “I fucked up by saying all of that shit. I know you’re with Dylan. It wasn’t cool of me to do.”

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows, sliding a look at her as Vi fidgeted, exhaled slowly.

“Do you know why I started dating Dylan?”

Vi frowned at the snow beneath her feet, slid her gaze to Caitlyn’s profile, waited.

“My only dating experience was what happened right before I came here, all the way back then. I asked a boy to dance, and I didn’t feel like kissing him, and he wound up making fun of me publicly and making me cry. Over a decade and a half of living, and not once did I have a date, or someone I believed was interested in me. Then, along comes this girl - short, a little angry, dresses like a cool punk chick, aggressively interested.”

Vi smirked, staring down at her shoes. “I knew it was the way I dressed.”

Caitlyn laughed at her lap, then looked up at the sky - clear and blue, her breath rising to join her rosy cheeks. “I just wanted to see what it was like, I suppose.”

Vi nodded. “That’s - yeah, I can see that.”

“But if I’d known,” Caitlyn said, sliding her gaze back to Vi, “if I’d seen you - your interest, Dylan wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Vi exhaled sharply, chuckling ruefully at herself, and Caitlyn suddenly realised that that could be horribly misconstrued. She opened her mouth to correct herself, closed it on a wave of fear, argued with herself. Just do it. Just push through it. Just say something.

She sat in silence with her creaking swing and Vi’s uneven breathing, and composed herself.

“I’m not with Dylan,” Caitlyn said abruptly, twisting in her swing seat, “not anymore. I went out last night because I’d found that she - she’d been less than exclusive.”

Vi scoffed, quietly. “What a fucking idiot.”

“What you said - what you did, surprised me,” Caitlyn continued, “was surprising to me. But it had me thinking about you, and how - how you’re so important to me, maybe the most important person in my life, and-”

“A really good friend?” Vi asked, ruefully.

“Yes,” Caitlyn said, then- “No! Well, yes you are, but no - that’s not. That’s not how I see you. Vi, you have to know that you’re the first friend I ever had, and I was terrified all the time to lose you. If I thought- if I felt any inkling of you thinking of me that way , I chalked it up to what friends do, or -”

“You gal pal’d me?” Vi asked, a deprecating smirk on her face.

Caitlyn let the words die on her tongue, cleared her throat, began anew. “It surprised me, but it didn’t feel wrong. That’s what kept running through my brain. How right it felt that you’d say that to me. And it had me thinking about what - our lives together, and how you’ve always truly been there, and I realised that I-”

It was Caitlyn’s turn to gather herself and start to speak.

“I’m in love with you, too,” Caitlyn said, and the first blast point - planted at a party with both of them clutching solo cups, armed and primed with Vi’s admission amidst a pounding bassline and a crush of bodies - finally detonated. The snow poured off of the mountain peaks, rumbling filling the air, powder gathering steam like stormy clouds, swallowing everything in their path in a blanket of fresh and white.

Vi’s eyes widened, her hands went slack on her chains, and Caitlyn kept talking.

“I’m sorry, Vi - I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt you. I didn’t know - didn’t let myself see, and sometimes you didn’t let me see. But if - if you’re willing, and you’ll still have me, I’d like to start making up for- for lost time.”

The snow kept rolling and they were standing in its path, separated by inches, staring upwards into the swirling depths.

Vi stood, untangling Caitlyn’s twisted chain, and pulled Caitlyn out of her seat - Caitlyn’s expression one of hope, of promise. The two clasped frigid fingers together, linked hands, eyes meeting.

“I’m Vi,” Vi whispered, and Caitlyn laughed.

“I’m Caitlyn,” she responded, voice thick with love.

“I’ve flunked out of college and took a job in another city,” Vi began, “I don’t know-”

“I don’t care. I’ll come with you. There’s nothing - you’re it, Vi. You’re my whole world.”

They pressed close, and finally, finally, their lips touched - softly, then hungrily, arms flinging around one another, bodies pressing together. Caitlyn over extended, Vi failed to balance, and they tumbled together into the snow.

Around them, roaring down the mountain, the snow blanketed them fully, cocooned them, and made them whole.