Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started when Powder put up a wedding invitation on the fridge.

I have no idea if it was on purpose, and to this day I still haven’t fully been able to deduce if it was a wonderful coincidence or another one of my sister’s painfully articulate schemes she so often pulled on me. But whatever the reason, that morning I faintly recall Powder yelling that she was going to get the mail. I returned to the front room, a living room to the left, a kitchen to the right, and the front door right in front of me emerging from the hallway. There I saw Powder had returned and was digging for something in the cupboard under the sink, mumbling. However, I disregarded that and took another swig out of the milk carton I stole from inside the fridge only a few moments earlier.

I was still sweaty from a morning workout in the basement, and planned on showering before starting my day. Powder made some sort of distasteful comment on my smell and I wiped my brow, flicking the sweat I collected at her in revenge. This resulted in a shrill scream of disgust and anger before she sprinted off to her room. 

To that I only laughed.

But it was when I turned to put the milk away, did I see it.

The wedding invitation. 

It was pretty and white, lined with what looked like real, small pearls on a border of delicate lace. Cursive adorned the front of it, two names big and prominent. And usually, such a thing wouldn’t make me think twice, as it wasn’t abnormal to leave mail on our fridge. Bills, appointment reminders, Powder’s school newsletter, bank info, a grocery list sometimes too. However, one of the names written there suddenly brought back a huge flood of emotion I hadn’t realized I was holding back for all those years. My face flushed red with bottled up fury, and I cannot recall what I did with the milk carton, as I didn’t return it to the fridge and instead ran back downstairs to let out my aggression on my punching bag for the second time that morning. 

…

Save the date!

We happily invite you to celebrate the union of:

Victoria Thomas

&

Caitlyn Kiramman

Friday, April 12th, 20xx.

146 Shimmering Blvd. — London, UK. — 14:00.

Reception to follow.

RSVP at your earliest convenience. 

…

It was an utter disaster that day. I hate to relive it, the events just passing through my mind like a hurricane, threatening to pick me up only to slam me back down again.

When the sun rose that morning, I had woken up to an empty bed. I felt the spot next to mine, it was still slightly warm, and I groaned as I turned over to find Caitlyn missing, along with her phone that usually stayed on her nightstand. I merely yawned, not alarmed, and my suspicions of where she disappeared to were confirmed a moment later. I heard the pop of our toaster, then the beep of our coffee maker, and finally I heard her voice. 

As I swung my feet over the edge of my side, I scratched my bedhead, undoubtedly making it worse. But I didn’t care. I yawned again and stretched, making my way from the bedroom into our kitchen. As I had thought, there were already two plates set up on our small kitchen island, and an excitedly frantic woman (trying not to burn her fingers in trying to take the toast from the toaster) was talking on the phone. She succeeded as she noticed me and smiled, and when she paused in talking to listen to the other person, she leaned over to peck my cheek. Even in a rushed manner it made me feel warm, and I returned her smile, taking the toast from her to transfer it to a plate from a paper towel. 

I sat, buttered my toast, eyed the fruit and scrambled eggs also there, and glanced back up at Caitlyn. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the phone often, as she got many calls throughout the day from a myriad of people. Some were her parents, others being colleagues, while the rest seemed to be a mixture of the random. But she took every one. I watched in silence as her phone was squished between her ear and shoulder. Caitlyn flawlessly poured two cups of coffee like this, having much practice from over the years. Just as she placed mine down in front of me and hers at her own plate, did her conversation end and she finally beeped the call to a finish. 

“Sorry about that,” she smiled, once again leaning to kiss me, but on the lips this time. It was a ritual every morning I happily accepted. “Good morning, my dear,” she murmured, keeping close to me for a moment before taking a seat. 

My eyes followed her. “Well, good morning to you too, cupcake.”

She scoffed at the nickname, although one would think she’d be used to it by now. I had called her that before I even knew her name, when we met in college. It was my way of messing with her, while also testing the flirtatious waters. I could easily tell what kind of person she was just by her reaction to a complete stranger teasing her. She had responded how I expected, confused and with a furrowed brow. She called me an imbecile and called my jeer uncreative and preposterous.  

I hadn’t known she was English until she insulted me, but that only drew me in more, charmed by her odd choice of fancy words and disdain for me already. She was a high strung student, and the challenge of breaking that mold morbidly fascinated me. When she refused to give me her name, I concluded that I guess I’d have to keep calling her cupcake. To that, she hurriedly spat out her name, wanting to prevent that. But I evilly smiled, never actually letting it go. 

Now she just accepted it, still playfully getting mad at me in certain situations.

“What was that about?” I asked, taking a rather large sip of my morning coffee. I didn’t care that it burnt my tongue. 

She looked ready to pounce at that question, happily speaking as soon as she could. 

“It’s spectacular news, Violet, really,” she beamed. “That was Mel.”

“Medarda?” Caitlyn nodded to my inquiry. “She’s the secretary at your alma mater right?”

“Yes!” she almost cut me off, and I chuckled at her obvious child-like glee. 

“Alright, crazy lady, calm down now before you fall off the stool.” My hand reached out to grab her forearm and give her a comforting squeeze. She let out a breath that looked like she was holding and she giggled at herself too. “Can’t have a cupcake fall on the floor– what a mess that’d be.”

She swatted at me with a stink eye and bite of her eggs, her lovely lips still grinning around the fork. And once she swallowed, she continued.

“She called to let me know that Headmaster Heimedinger is stepping down and won’t be returning in the fall.”

“ Finally ,” I snorted, looking down at my food as I continued to eat. “Guys like a million years old...”

“Which means the position is open,” Caitlyn wasn’t even facing her food, instead looking at me. “And she offered me the job.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“I know!” she squealed. “Isn’t it wonderful? To be the headmistress at my very own university…”

She had a wistful expression, looking off into the distance like she could see something else entirely. She mumbled a few other drabbles of memories from her uni days, watching as if she could see them replaying right in front of her eyes. And I was happy for her. I was. It was sudden, excellent, and very surprising news. She always considered it a pipe dream to actually be a headmistress, nevermind of her very own school. And here it was, happening. But despite that happiness I felt, panic swarmed my gut, immediately. Like, immediately .

“Caitlyn, that’s–” 

I don’t think she intentionally meant to cut me off, caught up in her hysteria. She was a rather smart woman, and I was certain the same thoughts I was having would eventually cross her mind, but I needed to speak them now , anxiety suddenly traveling to my chest. However Caitlyn was caught up in a daydream of childhood nostalgia and a feeling of accomplishment. 

“She said I had until Monday to decide,” she blissfully sighed, but then suddenly caught my bewildered and anxious stare. “Violet? Darling, what’s wrong?”

“You were offered a job..” I managed to choke out finally; there was a pause of silence between her words and mine. “...in London.”

Her own eyes widened in realization and her face was soon to follow in a flush, making her pale.

“ London , Caitlyn,” I said again, and she quickly went and snatched my hand in hers. “I mean.. That’s.. That’s thousands of miles away…! Are you seriously considering taking it? I-I thought we were on track– I mean… We just signed the lease–”

“Violet, Violet–” She gently tried to stop my yammering, also taking a hold of one side of my face. She knew all too well how quickly I could spiral out of control. “Please, it’s okay… try not to get all worked up…”

“But– but–”

“I know,” Caitlyn shushed me, and I couldn’t help but lean into her warm touch, entranced by the soft glow of her blue eyes. “I understand… I’m sorry for getting ahead of myself, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no, I mean…” I sighed, sinking further into her touch when she started to rub her thumb back and forth across my cheek. “You love your university…You still wear their sweatshirt for God’s sake.”

Pitifully, she gave me a small grace of an upward turn on her lips. Caitlyn removed her hand from my face as I moved to straighten my posture, yet I didn’t let her take her other hand back, intertwining our fingers together. I closed my eyes, my eyebrows down in problem-solving mode and in somewhat irritation, but I attempted to prevent further outbursts. Taking a moment, I breathed, and when I opened my eyes again her beautiful face was once more before me. 

“I just…” I started, weakly, but I tried again. “We did long distance before, and it killed me… Caitlyn, I can’t go more than a few days without you before I start going crazy. I-I don’t know what we’d do if you decided–” but I didn’t let myself finish, shaking my head. “But I don’t want you to say no just because of me.. I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay– choosing this before your career... It's selfish.”

“ No — ! No, it’s not selfish,” Caitlyn corrected eagerly. “My love… I wish we didn’t have to face this… in a perfect world there wouldn’t be dilemmas such as this, don’t you think? It’s simply not fair… not fair to you.”

“Caitlyn…”

“Nothing is written in stone yet,” she said, voice suddenly strong. “I still haven’t the faintest idea what I’m going to do. If you could… allow me some time to think? I’ll call Mel again. Maybe an answer will appear clearer the more information we have.”

I hesitated, but then I nodded, directing my gaze to the floor. 

“Alright,” I softly said, almost in a whisper. “Yeah… please, think all you like, make a decision and leave me out of it— we can figure out where to go from there.”

“But,” she sounded almost helpless. “I can’t possibly leave you out of it— Violet, I can’t live a day without you either.” 

She somehow seemed nearer, and I was swarmed with an overwhelming urge to pull her close. So I did exactly that. I never minded the awkward position of us both being on stools and wrapped my arms around her back. Caitlyn immediately responded by throwing her arms over my shoulders and perching her chin there, clinging tight. I wanted to remain strong here, for her, and I always wanted all of her dreams to come true. But without her in my life, something about me would just be missing. Long distance is a killer of relationships, or so they say , and it’s not like I didn’t have faith, but I was simply terrified. Terrified of losing her when I couldn’t do anything about it.

We’d both be miserable, I know that much for certain. 

“Try your best.. take your time…” I breathed. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay .”

The shaking in my voice at the sudden news betrayed me. A swarm of horror at the potential distance mixed ugly with the proud feeling for Caitlyn, and the happiness I had in her getting this opportunity. 

Keeping her in a tight embrace, I temporarily forgot an obvious solution.

.

“VIIIII–!”

Powder snapped me from my thoughts, and I was in my basement again. I could hardly breathe, the feeling of sweat pouring down my spine making me squirm as I realized I had been going at the punching bag a little too hard. My gloves were askew on the floor, as it seemed I didn’t bother to put them back on in my sudden outburst. It explained the burning pain in my knuckles, despite them being carefully wrapped still. 

I didn’t answer Powder, having been so deep in a memory that it took me more than just a moment to recuperate. She knew where I was anyways, being that if I wasn’t in my room, I was in the basement. More often than not the latter, and only seconds after she screamed my name did she appear on the steps, rushing down in agitation.

“What did you do with the milk?” she accused, staring me down from a few steps up. “Come clean it up you feral animal.”

She was ribbing me, but I had no capacity to respond.

“What.. the fuck.. Was that.. On the fridge?” Still panting heavily, I pushed out these words, eyebrows furrowed, and clearly not in the mood to volleyball back Powder’s swipe. 

“What’s what?” She feigned innocence. 

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean,” I gulped down an extra breath of air, my heart rate finally coming down to a normal pace again.

“ Ooooh ,” Powder grinned at me, eyes lowering in an evil expression. “Do you mean the–”

“ Yes, ” I cut her off. “What the fuck is it?”

“It’s an invitation to Caitlyn’s wedding, idiot,” she chuckled at me, uncaring of my enraged state. “Can you not read?”

“ Hey ,” I warned, finally closing the distance as I met her at the bottom of the stairs. I looked up to where she was, her cavalier attitude only making the war in my brain worse. “I don’t need any lip from you right now. C’mon, why on Earth would you put that up?”

“Oh my god, Vi ,” Powder groaned loudly and threw her head back. 

“No, tell me why you’d do that?”

I was putting all of my energy into not raising my voice, though Powder expected it at this point. However it was a trait I always aimed to work on. It had been a long journey, and clearly it was long from over as my strained voice just further increased in bite. My tone was almost threatening and full of venomous sub context only revealed to the two of us at the time. But Powder’s expression quickly turned from amused to bored, and almost exasperated. She clearly felt it was obvious, yet at the time I was failing to understand anyways. Then, it was difficult for me to see things even if they were labeled and under my nose. That fact evident in this conversation alone. 

I had begged her multiple times before not to bring up Caitlyn– the main source of my anger here. But ever since she was a child, she hardly listened to me. I told her not to touch the stove, and she burned her finger. I told her to use her blinkers, and instead she uses the opposite blinker from where she actually is going to turn. I said not to flip off her principal at her high school graduation, but I have a very colorful photo that in hindsight is hilarious. 

I asked her not to mention Caitlyn, yet she openly talks about posts on her Instagram (which she follows, I do not). She recalls old stories and memories in a fond manner, a way to tease me. Every once in a while she’ll say that a top in the window of a boutique downtown reminds her of Caitlyn. 

Each one is a stab to the heart, but over the years the pain numbed down to a dull, muted ache. Merely I got annoyed, and continued to ignore it and move on. However, that day something was different. Powder wasn’t just talking about how awkward I had been the first time I had Caitlyn over, or that she thinks Caitlyn owns that blue skirt. She had put up her wedding invitation. 

Nevermind how shocking it felt to receive an invitation from someone I hadn’t even seen in years, the dull ache bloomed back out from deep within my chest like a sword in a rock. I felt made fun of, I felt demeaned, I felt looked down on. 

“Answer me, Pow,” I demanded, watching Powder give me a look I couldn’t name instead of responding. 

“ Christ, Vi ,” she mumbled at her feet, but then made eye contact again. “Because you’ve been holding a torch for her for years, so I only just thought–”

“I haven’t been holding a torch–!” I was offended. 

“Are you even going to let me answer your question?”

My arms crossed, my sweaty skin now cold from the AC and making me shiver. It rubbed up against itself uncomfortably and I was reminded again that I was going to take a shower before my emotions got the better of me. 

“That’s such a stupid claim, Pow. I haven’t even talked to her since… Forever.”

I had spoken over her. Another groan from my younger sister. She was growing short with me and I could visibly see it. 

“If you’re not in love with her Vi, then why do you still have the thing? ”

My stomach dropped at her evil grin, knowing exactly what she was insinuating.

“ Powder. ”

I felt dumb for walking right into that trap, and as she turned to run up the stairs I regretted ever telling her about it in the first place all that time ago. My scream after her echoed in the stairwell and I stumbled after her, falling into the side of my bedroom door to see her rummaging in my closet. I scolded her and attempted to peel her away, but her intention was strong and she got a hold of it before I could stop her. 

“Powder, put that back!”

“Not until you explain yourself!” she yelled, cackling at my distress. She stood and backed away from me, holding the small box she had procured above her head like she was taller than me. “Be honest with yourself, Vi!”

“I am!”

“Liar!” Powder screamed. 

I reached up to snatch the box, but she leapt onto my bed in the center of the small room. There was that evil grin again, laughing at my pain to distract herself from my irritable actions that undoubtedly made her want to clock me in the face. 

I didn’t follow her, instead catching my breath that I had somehow lost again in the rush of anxiety. I stayed silent at her mockery as she waited for a satisfactory answer, looking up as she subtly bounced on the mattress. Powder continued to hold the box high, and my gaze locked on that rather than my sister's face. It was in the exact same condition it was in when I first put it away all those years ago. It was tiny, able to fit in your palm, and the lid still tightly secured. The black color wasn’t faded or stained, it looked exactly the same, as if frozen in time. The sight caused a clenching in my heart that made it hard to breathe, on top of the short breath from anxiety. 

“It’s… that’s..” I started weakly. “That’s just a memory… I held onto it for the same reasons you keep photo albums… you know that Pow.”

But she sputtered at me dismissively and finally hopped down, eyeing the box closer in her hands, turning it over and over.

“ Sure ,” she deadpanned. “And I’m a blonde, leggy cheerleader.”

The sarcasm dripped off her tongue and only then she let me take the box from her grip. Seemingly satisfied with the pot she stirred up, she watched as I felt it in my own hands, staring at it for a moment. But I snapped myself out of a daydream, shaking my head, and returning it to where it's been kept safe for years upon years.

“Did you see behind the invitation?”

“What?”

I was crouched down, but looked over my shoulder to regard Powder and see her sitting now on the edge of my bed. Again she was bouncing a bit, fidgeting with a loose thread on the comforter and not making eye contact as she spoke. Powder looked casual, like she wanted to seem cavalier– but she was also being sneaky. 

“There’s a second invitation.”

“They sent us a second wedding invitation?” I scoffed.

“No, stupid,” my sister returned. “One to the wedding, another to Caitlyn’s bachelorette party.” 

To this I screamed ‘ what? ’ once more, getting a comment to shut up for the sake of her ears from Powder. I was in disbelief already at being invited to her wedding, but to the bachelorette party too? Didn’t you usually only bring along people you liked to those things? At that point in time, Caitlyn and I hadn’t spoken in several years, and I’d hardly call that a friendship strong enough to warrant an invite to that kind of party; I’d hardly call that a friendship at all. I had thought there was this unspoken agreement between us that we’d never contact one another again. I mean, isn’t that how things are supposed to go when you have an ugly break up with someone? 

It was at times like these that I really wished there was a manual for these types of things. 

Because fuck all if I know anything about how to deal with this.

Chapter Text

“Can we go? Please? Pleeeeaaaasee?”

“Powder, shut up, you’re not twelve.”

But my sister pouted dramatically, sticking out her bottom lip and eyeing me angrily. She moved to stand in front of my grocery cart, blocking the path further down the aisle, and I groaned.

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I am a child!”

“You’re 21, Pow.”

“ Yeah , but I’ll always be your kid sister, right?” she let a grin spread across her face. Her boots squeaked against the floor as she situated herself to stand on the bottom metal bars of the cart. She was lucky I had a firm grip on the other end, otherwise she would’ve flipped it over. And I would’ve laughed. Loudly .

I rolled my eyes and looked back down at the sticky note I brought along. On it I had scrawled a few things down that we needed at the house, desperately, and according to Powder, she was apparently bored and wanted to tag along. She’d never enjoyed coming with me shopping before. But that never stopped her from complaining that I got the wrong kind of Poptart she wanted. Arguing that she could always come with me so I didn’t make the same mistake again didn’t work on her, as she’d just scoff and tell me to smarten up and learn how to read a text.

So when she asked to come along I was skeptical, and so far she was yet to actually help in the endeavor. She was yet to do anything but beg me to go to Caitlyn’s wedding across the pond.

Curious .

Why she was so set on going, who knows. I gave up on trying to understand the complicated inner workings of Powder’s brain a long time ago. Her behavior was beyond suspicious, as she wasn’t exactly one for subtle, but I had very few fucks left to give out. I’d been working a lot more than usual lately seeing as I needed to start my monthly payments on Powder’s student loans. She didn’t originally want my help, claiming she could do it herself, but fuck that. I didn’t get to finish my degree. She graduated with flying colors and I was proud– like Hell I wasn’t gonna help her out for such an amazing achievement. 

But that’s neither here nor there.

Point is I’ve been working a lot. I was tired. I didn’t handle bullshit well nowadays, so I had little interest in whatever Powder had planned in her brain. Just as long as she didn’t steal my shit I didn’t care. (Little rascal loves to raid my piercing jewelry box when I’m not looking.)

“It would be so much fun,” she continued to pester me even after we moved into the dairy section. “Neither one of us has been to Europe before.”

“And how’s that?” I responded to the first half of her statement, flat and not even looking at her. I was searching for a replacement milk carton.

“Well, first off, everyone talks funny there.”

I snorted.

“True.”

“Imagine,” my sister waved her hands around as if to disappear into a roll. “ Oi, mate, get out me bloody way! I’m on my way to the governor for fish ‘n chips, innit?”

That erupted a bigger laugh in my throat despite my best interest and attempt to resist. Her accent was God awful, so bad it was probably offensive. I shook my head at her, and she laughed with me for a moment before it became apparent that wasn’t going to be enough to convince me. 

“We could go sightseeing,” she offered, but I merely grunted to that, clearly not impressed.

“What’s there to see?”

“Lots of things!” Powder protested. 

I made an unimpressed noise, apparently a huge fan of the monosyllable that day. She had dropped it for a while, letting me actually be productive and get the pain that was grocery shopping out of the way. She didn’t open her mouth again until we were loading bags into the trunk of the car.

“I know you want to go,” she said.

“Why on Earth would I want to go to my ex’s wedding?” Thumping the last bag into the trunk was how I ended that sentiment. “I still can’t quite get over the fact that she invited me in the first place. Like, don’t you think that’s weird?”

Powder slammed the trunk door closed for me as I turned to squint at her in the afternoon sun. She shrugged, now being the one with the noncommittal answers. She seemed more keen on getting me to agree to something I didn’t really feel like doing instead of playing detective. And she was unrelenting. On the drive back, carrying the bags in, unloading, she continued to name little and lame excuses to go. Stuff I didn’t care about like the food (gross) or rich people shit at the service (yawn). 

“Vi! C’mon! It’s a paid vacation; they included tickets with the invite,” she complained, flopping down over my lap as I was trying to watch TV in the living room. But all I got from that was the ugly remembrance that they were so rich they could afford to buy tickets for people who may not even respond to the invite. They’re like, rich, rich, those fuckers. “Don’t you want to spend some time away from all the stupid fuckery going on around here?”

Clearly exhausted, I exaggeratedly groaned.

“God you’re impossible ,” she whined, but then took a suspicious moment to pause and think of something. “What if… I made a deal with you?”

That piqued my interest.

“What… kind of deal?” I said slowly, and she laughed at me, finally sitting up.

“ Like… ” she hummed, fidgeting with one of her braids for a moment. “I’ll do all the house chores for two weeks when we get back.”

A short pause as I thought.

“A month,” my counter came out cold.

“A month?!”

“Don’t question it, or I’m upping it to two.”

I admit the idea of not doing laundry, dishes, vacuuming, trash takeout, dinner cleanup, or just general cleaning for a whole month was super appealing. But appealing enough to face the subject of my horrible breakup that led to serious and dire consequences? I wasn’t actually sure.

Powder acquiesced with a loud grunt. “ Fine ,” she complained. “I’ll do them all for a month.”

She stuck her hand out for me to shake, but I finally caught her eye and grinned.

“ Woah now, I haven’t actually agreed to this deal yet.” Her reaction and irritation was funny. She just flopped backwards onto the couch dramatically, her feet now stretching to my lap once she needed to get comfortable.

“How long do you need to decide? A couple hours?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“...Fuck you, Vi.”

“Love you too, ‘lil sis ,” punctuating my mocking tone was a tickle to the bottom of one of her feet. It was met with a shrill scream and an almost kick to the face. Wouldn’t have been the first, won’t be the last, and it was totally worth it. 

.

She left me alone the rest of the day, the rest of the week, thank god . I think she could tell she was starting to overstep the threshold of comfortable bugging and teasing. She knew better than to push me over the edge. When I got in that sort of mood I made shit miserable for her too just by being around her, which was another great incentive for her to back off. 

One night we were in our own respective rooms, doing whatever we were doing as the sun slowly slipped behind the horizon. I found it hard to sleep that night for some reason, trying to call it early and get comfortable under the covers. But at the stroke of midnight I was still awake, still staring at my little digital clock on my nightstand. The red, glowing numbers almost felt like they were laughing at me, mocking me, and I had a sudden impulse to chuck it across the room. Instead I huffed forcefully out of my nose and turned the face downwards so I could no longer read it.

An unidentified amount of time went by before I heard the faint footsteps of my sister approach my slightly askew door (it never actually shut properly). I could feel her standing there, just peeking in like she did when she was a kid, when she had a nightmare. I heard her take a breath, unable to actually see her as I was laying with my back to the door. She likely didn’t know I was awake, but she’d find out soon enough. Because she knocked ever so slightly on my door frame, and said my name even quieter. But I caught it, and I flopped over onto my back to regard her. 

In the small slivers of moonlight that managed to drift into the room I could make out her tired, yet pensive face. Maybe a tad worried too as she looked at me, still wide awake. She didn’t comment on it though. Carefully, she took my eye contact as an invite in, and she tiptoed into the room as if she were scared of waking up our parents. 

Just like the old, old, old days. Eons now, it felt like.

She crawled into bed with me, just like she did when we were kids, and curled up into a ball, hugging her own legs. She shifted so she was close to me as I situated her under the blankets. We just laid there quietly, enjoying the company in the silent night, before I felt her intense gaze on me again. But I didn’t turn to look at her, instead staring upward at the ceiling. 

“Are you scared…?” I heard her whisper, so quietly it almost sounded like she was nervous to say it aloud. Scared of making me upset. But I didn’t get so. Merely I sighed, heavy, closing my eyes for the briefest of moments, and she knew what my answer was. 

“I would be too…”

When she spoke so little like that, she seemed just like a little girl again. I couldn’t help but compare her to how I used to know her, see the difference in the young woman she’s grown into now. It was astonishing. But she never changed how she interacted with me. At the end of the day she knew she could still come and sleep in her big sister's bed when her room felt too dark and lonely. I always appreciated the company anyways, probably needing it more than she did, to be honest. And that applied in this moment too. Powder had come to me this time because she could sense it. Just like how an animal can tell when their owner is in pain. She came to comfort me . 

Again .

And despite the growing guilt in my gut from her taking care of me, when it really should be the other way around, I would never turn her away. Selfishly, anytime she offered her quiet sanctuary, I accepted every time. 

“It’s been a long time, Vi…” she continued to whisper after a moment passed with the sound of a car driving down the road. “But you should see the look on your face when she gets brought up…”

Again I didn’t say anything, this time just rubbing a hand over my eyes too harshly. 

“Aren’t you curious to see how she’s doing? Don’t you miss her? I mean… she wasn’t just your girlfriend… she was your best friend too.”

No matter how cliche it sounded, how weird it sounded coming out of Powder’s mouth, no one could deny it was the truth. She was a constant in my life ever since college, and an always welcome distraction from the horrid life I had going on in the background. She shone a light on it all, and taught me so much that I never thought I could know. My best friend. Someone who stole my fries, copied my notes, drove me to the airport, played video games with me, smacked me when I was being an ass, supported me through difficult times… 

“Yeah,” I said, still keeping with the theme of whispering to the night. My answer was vague and noncommittal, but it was enough to encourage Powder further. She reached out to gently tug and twirl a piece of my hair around her finger, using it to fidget as she spoke. I didn’t care enough to stop her.

“Vi,” she started. “I really think you should go… I think it would be good for you to see her again… even if it’s just for some closure. Maybe then you’d be able to finally move on .”

“I have–” I was getting ready to protest, but Powder kept rambling as if I had never opened my mouth in the first place.

“She invited you. That means she wants you there… for whatever reason. Maybe she just wants to make things right…”

“ Pow… ” I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, still keeping my eyes skillfully trained on my ceiling. “You’ve always hated Caitlyn. Why do you care so much now…?”

“I didn’t hate her…”

I snorted and she lightly smacked my shoulder.

“Let’s just say I’ve grown up since then,” Powder responded, heaving a sigh through her nose. “I didn’t like sharing… she could’ve been God for all I care, and I probably still would’ve…”

“Hated her?”

“ Shut up .”

My nose wrinkled as I stifled a silent laugh again, and my sister swatted at me once more, something so normal in our household I hardly even registered it anymore. 

“But she’s a person, just like we’re people– and yeah I’m pissed at her for how she ended things, but I care because…” she trailed off, thinking, almost hesitating. “Well because… because I can just tell you’re miserable… I’m just trying to help… ”

“ Aww ,” I cooed, jokingly as I finally focused on her face. Her own eyes looked too big from my vantage point looking down at her and her looking up at me. 

“Or maybe on second thought perhaps I should just let you suffer,” she grumbled, eyebrows being pulled together. Though she didn’t fight very hard when I lazily pulled her into a bear hug.

“I gotta be the luckiest girl in the world to have such a kind sister.”

More mumbled and vicious words were muffled by my arms as I squeezed her. It was evident she was too exhausted to squirm, nevermind yell and make a scene like she normally would. She sleepily accepted her fate, but let insult after insult fall from her tongue. I did let her go though, after a little while, relishing in the warm comfort it brought me to be in a nice embrace like that. Soon we both settled back into our own comfortable spaces, cozy under my covers. And after several minutes more, where Powder probably thought I fell asleep, I spoke again. 

“...It’s all paid for?” I muttered, softly, so softly. I felt her smile next to me and I let out a long, dramatic breath from deep within my chest. “So I can move on… for closure… We’ll go.”

.

A few short weeks later we found ourselves each packing a bag. 

In those few short weeks I had a few little… moments, shall we call them, alone in my bed at night. Curled up into myself under the covers and shifting my face around so I wasn’t lying on the tear stained portion that had then grown cold from the frigid air. I was confused as to why I was crying, as to why I was invited, as to why it affected me so much that I was invited. I had told myself and my sister alike (not to mention countless friends and family) for years that I was completely over the whole thing; that I’ve grown and moved on. Sometimes they’d counter with the fact that I hadn’t gone on a date with anyone since the breakup, and I’d respond that I was focusing on my career. 

But I could scoff at myself. Some career I got, one I achieved purely through lucky connections. Someone knew someone who owned a gym and hired independent personal trainers. And even though I’m not exactly the best people-person, I soon made a name for myself. But that wasn’t really important now. 

I was focusing on me, that’s the point. Over the however many years Caitlyn and I didn’t interact in any way, I had poured myself into that job. I got more jacked because of it too, using the gym as a favorite coping mechanism. I practically lived there, especially on bad days when I’d be craving a beer or something like that. The loud music in my headphones, the sweat down my back, my hair in my face, it all distracted me along with the strain in my arms from deadlifting for a while. In that time I wasn’t trying to build more muscle, but it happened either way with how much time I spent running away from the thoughts that’d float by when I was left idle. I couldn’t be left sitting alone, I always needed to be doing something, and I had a rather hard time relaxing. 

In those few short weeks I spent more time in the gym than I ever had. Overworking myself to the point of complete and utter exhaustion. I’d walk in when the sun was young, and stay until it died over the horizon. I came in on days I didn’t have any personal sessions lined up and just pushed myself further and further. It was definitely dangerous and irresponsible. I could’ve seriously gotten hurt a few times– times where I very clearly needed a spot, but didn’t ask for one, or even refused an offer. Having another person there meant I had to stop my music, and a conversation with a stranger wasn’t enough of a distraction. Besides, it’s not like I could talk very easily while weight lifting anyways. 

Powder saw me working myself to death, as I often did when I got in a rut about life, but noticed it was rather… intense this time compared to the past. More than before, more than normal. And she’s such a smart kid, she connected it to Caitlyn’s invitation right away. It was very clearly stressing me out. My head was just rattling with one question, over and over again until it drove me insane.

Why?

Why?

Why me?

Of all people?

Why me ?

But Powder did what she always did and slapped me back into reality. Sometimes literally, and no matter how pissed that made me, I couldn’t deny I every now and again needed someone to smack me on the arm hard enough for me to pay attention to the rest of the world around me. She convinced me to tone it down in those few short weeks, doing just more cardio, going for runs, getting out of that musty gym and away from equipment and weights. And I’ll admit, it was nice. With spring a promise on the dying winter’s wind, some flowers were prematurely budding, frost melting from grass in the warm sun, and birds singing over my head again.

And when those few short weeks came to a close, my entire body ached with overexertion, and my brain was dead from using all its energy to hold off intrusive thoughts. Though I was just sitting there, I was trying my best to not spiral into the ‘why?’ question again. However I still didn’t have my answer. For now it would have to suffice that I’d have to wait and find out– ask Caitlyn herself.

Caitlyn .

What a woman .

Who did things in such mysterious ways that made no sense from the outside, but once she got her way, everything neatly fell into place and everything was perfectly okay. She only ever had good intentions, as I didn’t know her to wish ill on anyone in our lives. She was simply incapable, such a sucker for second chances and believing the best in people. I tried not to think about the idea that maybe she was just pitying me when we were together. That she wanted to fix my absolute mess of a life up and give me that second chance at life since I was dealt such a shitty hand. Her kindness knew no bounds, and it confused me, now more than ever. There’s no way she sent me this invitation as a way to get back at me, to hurt me in any way, because if it was then she simply wasn’t Caitlyn anymore. She’d become a stranger to me if that were the case. Though regardless, at this point, she felt like a stranger no matter what. Certainly she’s changed over these years, like I have. I hoped she had. That’s just good for humans in general to keep moving forward and growing. So I really just wasn’t so sure that her imprint in my mind was at all accurate to her character anymore. Her tells when she was lying, the way she bit her bottom lip when she focused, how she wore her heart on her sleeve unapologetically. I had absolutely no way of knowing if that was still her, or if she’d outgrown me completely. 

It was scary to think about.

And I was tired of thinking about it, frankly.

I could hardly keep my eyes open the day of our flight. The whole day was filled with double checking flight times, making sure we had our passports, confirming our stay at the hotel the Kirammans rented for overseas guests (which if that isn’t ultra mega rich , then I don’t know what is).

And so it came to be that after a few short weeks of receiving that invitation, we found ourselves packing our bags.

I was just staring at mine as it laid open on the bed. I had the majority of my stuff organized there, things like a toothbrush and underwear, essentials. But something was missing . And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what. My chair in the corner stayed still with me as I just went over my list several times in my head. My brow was furrowed like it often is, furrowed in a way that Caitlyn used to try and smooth it out, affectionately saying “Your face is going to get stuck like that, you grump.”

She’d kiss my forehead, or pad over where I’ve already created a permanent line with her thumb. She constantly worked to see my frustration melt away, help me process emotions better without getting angry–

No.

I was not doing this.

Let her go.

I repeated to myself that this wedding would finally be my closure, coming to terms with the invite in the time from here to when we received it. As much as I could anyways. I’d see Caitlyn happy and healthy again, and we both could finally move on for good . I’d get my question answered and that itch could be scratched. No more haunted memories when I’m alone at night, or when the room is too quiet. No more reminders when I hear a passerby with an English accent; no more pretty, raven haired women at the bar pulling me their direction first. This would be it , I kept telling myself. This will be the end of it all, and I can walk free from the chains that woman still had on me. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, though it was as obvious as a sudden rainstorm on a bright, sunny day. Most importantly though, I didn’t want to admit it to my sister. She could never know she was right about my torch I’d been carrying. 

She’d never let me live it down. 

As if I was calling her, when she crossed my mind she also passed my bedroom door I left wide open in that moment. But she double backed and stuck her head in, observing the scene. Just me sitting in the corner looking serious at my open suitcase on the bed.

“Need help with the zipper again?” she teased me and I merely snorted, my mood not alleviated. And I had a feeling it wouldn’t anytime soon, not until I could figure out what the Hell was missing.

“Very funny,” I said, my voice monotone. I kept my eyes on the suitcase even when she entered my room and went digging in my closet unprompted, pulling out several articles of clothing before shaking her head and putting them back. “I already got everything packed up. I don’t need you adding more weight to my bag.”

“Then what’re you glaring for?” Powder sighed. “Y’know, no matter how long you stare at it, it’s not gonna zip itself, get up, and start talkin’ to ya.”

Her voice was muffled as her head went back into my clothes. What she was looking for, I don’t entirely know. But she kept digging and digging until she found some shoes, pulling them out next for inspection. It wasn’t too uncommon for her to ridicule my fashion taste and dress me up in what she thought was much better. But despite the fact I’d usually protest, I was too tired to fight her on it then, and just let her presumably plan all my outfits despite the fact I already packed everything I needed away.

“Do you not wanna go?” she asked, getting comfy on the ground with the shoes.

“No– I– I do want to go but…” I trailed off, trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words.

“ But…?”  

“Something is… missing.”

“Oh— well, hey don’t look at me,” my sister shrugged, putting her hands up defensively. “I haven’t stolen any of your jewelry… this time .”

“ No , Pow,” I firmly said, resting my head against my hand where my elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair. “I feel like I’m supposed to be bringing.. Something else, I dunno…”

“What, like a wedding present?”

I snapped up and looked at my sister on the floor, my eyes widening. 

Of course! 

A wedding present!

How could I have been so blind to it? Everyone brings wedding presents; that’s like, the one thing I’d enjoy from my own wedding if I ever did get married. But at this point, it’s rather unlikely. It felt like such an obvious answer that it must’ve been so painfully clear how tired I was emotionally and physically. I could likely count the grand total of hours of sleep I got that week on just my two hands, and my face reflected it.  

Oh well, y’know?

Caitlyn was just going to have to deal with the dark purple, deep eye bags I earned every time she looked at me. If she did at all. I still had real doubt that she’d even acknowledge me.

“Oh my god, you’re right!”

“Hold on,” Powder smiled, now patting the floor around her. “Let me find my phone so I can record you saying that again.”

I didn’t respond to her quip, as most of the time we slid by each other's snide remarks. My mind was more focused on the new task at hand. However, I deflated almost as fast as I perked up.

“But,” I thought aloud. “We need to leave for the airport in a few hours , and God knows I can’t afford anything fancy enough…”

My dejected expression fell over me again as quickly as it had left in the first place. Not only was a wedding gift an obvious answer to my dilemma, but it took my brain way longer than necessary to remember how rich she was. How high her standards were. I threw out all the memories and times Caitlyn had told me it’s only the heart and thought that counts, and she never cared about any kind of price tag. Knowing that her parents were letting her get married to a woman meant one thing and one thing only to them. 

It was a business opportunity, as this Victoria was likely the heir to some large ass company that makes the plastic bags of soap people use for public bathrooms or something dumb like that. Something small that we never think about using, but meanwhile made someone else incredibly rich. This was a rich power couple, and it was very likely Caitlyn’s taste changed, and she refused to dip below a certain price now. I wouldn’t be surprised. Being surrounded by five stars all the time like it was normal really made those three star things seem like total and complete shit.

Basically, I had little to no hope I could get anything worthy of her time.

“ Oh! Wait, wait– I think there’s an online registry website they put on the back of the invites,” Powder got up, talking as she walked from my room to the kitchen just around the corner. I heard her yell ‘ah-hah!’ and soon enough she was back with the lacey, pearly cardstock outstretched to me. “It also says that gifts are quote, appreciated, but not required , unquote. So you actually don’t have to worry about it.”

“Huh,” I breathed. Taking the card, it was heavier than I was expecting it to be, but I suppose that comes from the gratuitous amount of crap on it. The website was indeed on the back like Powder had said, and I quickly pulled out my phone to visit the site. “Still kinda wanna get her something… feels like a dick move not to show up with a gift.”

I started mumbling towards the end of my sentence as I got on the website and started scrolling through my options. Most things were already purchased for the pair, leaving me with little to pick from.

“But you are a dick, Vi,” Pow insulted me, going back to inspecting my shoes on the ground. “Which is ironic considering how insanely lesbian you are.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I chuckled. We were close enough together that I could reach out with my foot and give her a small shove, to which she laughed back and swatted me away.

“Gross!!” she yelled, but continued to giggle despite her best efforts. 

“I think you should take these,” Powder went on once she caught her breath, holding up one of my two pairs of dress shoes. Both brand new, purchased for a special occasion, and one pair worn only once for that very meeting. One to talk to Caitlyn’s parents before she broke up with me. I stuffed them in my closet, hoping they’d never resurface and be buried forever. Alas, there was Powder, holding them up to me before setting them in my suitcase and zipping it for me. I only sighed and grumbled something I couldn’t tell you even if I tried, my memory failing in that sense. I only kept scrolling, quickly realizing I couldn’t afford anything left. So, sucking in a breath I stood and made to leave and go to the store.

“Cheap and weird it is,” I said to myself, to which I heard Powder concur behind me as she followed me to the door. She however threw herself onto our couch while I shoved my feet into my boots.

“Don’t take too long,” Powder yawned as she talked. “If we don’t get to the airport six hours before our flight we’ll miss it!”

Chuckling at her joke, I reassured her, then out into the cold early spring I went.

Chapter Text

I had no idea what was appropriate for a wedding gift. I kept returning to the website for ideas, and it mostly just looked like aesthetically pleasing house items like bowls and napkin holders. But the small market in town was more akin to that of a Dollar Store. And no matter how practical, gifting her new shampoo didn’t really seem like the right message to send. Not like I could’ve taken that on the plane anyways. I was searching for something that said, ‘congratulations but also it's totally awkward that I’m here but I’m still happy for you!’ yet remained classy. I was somewhat surprised when they didn’t have a card for that, as these places always have cards for literally any occasion. 

But then I saw it.

A mug.

A specific mug.

And a mug that was practically identical to a handmade mug Caitlyn would drink her coffee out of every morning once upon a time. It was blue washed, but with little white bunnies hopping around the entire outside of it. It looked like they put stickers on the mug before dyeing it to make the bunny shape. It wasn’t insanely detailed or special, but it was cute, and Caitlyn liked it. She got in the habit of using it every morning because, according to her, it was the perfect serving size for her first coffee of the day. 

I grabbed it off the shelf, immediately inspecting the shit out of it. The label on the bottom belonged to the store and I tried peeling it off only to reveal a non branded bottom. Someone probably stole these designs and mass produced them, as so often happens to artists. Because I was pretty sure Caitlyn bought her mug from a local art event when we went on a road trip. This one was generic, not authentic, and had brothers and sisters in different colors with different animals. There were red ones with birds, yellow ones with cats, green ones with dogs, and even purple with bats. But despite it being a reproduction of the real thing, how insane was it that I found this the day before seeing her again? It almost felt like fate, though I didn’t believe in such things. It was a reasonable price, and just as I started to walk away it hit me that ‘I should also probably get one for her fiancé too right?’

It indeed was their wedding, not just Caitlyn’s.

So I turned on my heels and grabbed the bird one too, rushing to the register before I could think about it any further. Before I could think about the implications of buying Caitlyn something from our previous life together, or that I was christening her new one with the same mug plus a matching mate.

When I sat them down on the front counter, I heard an almost immediate greeting from a familiar voice, and one that put me at ease the same way my sister’s does. 

“Is that all for you this fine afternoon, ma’am? ”

I shook my head at his antics and phony attitude, grinning as I dug around for my wallet. His voice was laced with fake pleasantries and a joking grin, as this particular cashier recognized me the moment I came into view. I suppose he decided it would be funny to be overly polite and throw on a ridiculous customer service act when he indeed knew I hated that shit. I ignored his little joke as I finally managed to grab my money.

“Benzo got you workin’ the front today?”

“Yes, oh my god, Vi it’s so boring.”

Looking up I saw those puppy dog eyes, ones he’s had years to master, though he still is yet to learn they never worked on me. Other than that, he looked like he always did, tall, with his work apron on and his nametag in place. His white hair flopped from side to side when he made exaggerated movements, like when he’d gesture wildly at nothing. His playful mood that day was clearly born from his boredom, trying to keep himself entertained, and those pathetic puppy dog eyes, upon second glance, had a plea in them too.

“ No, Ekko ,” my voice took on that parenting tone I have stored away from raising Powder. “I’m not making up an emergency to get you out of work, again .”

“C’mon!” he complained. “It’s worked before!”

“ No ,” I said again. “It worked once and then the last four times you had me try to fool Benzo you got your ass beat and I got an earful. I’d like to avoid that, thank you.”

Slapping down my money (and exact change might I add) Ekko groaned at me and counted it to double check before putting the transaction through. The store wasn’t busy in the slightest, undoubtedly the source of the boy's boredom. I figured I’d indulge him and chat for a bit considering he didn’t have much else to do. He caught me up on his college, a funny story of Powder from the last time they hung out, and definitely talked my ear off about how he wished he had a more exciting job. Any time I tried to offer up some friendly advice, he’d just whine and call me old. That with each passing year I became less and less fun as I got more and more elderly . To that I responded by plopping myself to sit on the small counter between us and snag him in a noogie. And I didn’t let go until he was begging for mercy. Eventually, though, the conversation changed direction.

“What’re the mugs for?” he asked.

“Hm?” my mind was elsewhere, forgetting for a moment the bag I had in my hand. Ekko nodded to it.

“The mugs you just bought,” he clarified, then leaned forward on the counter with both arms. “You’ve never really been one for… cutesy decor.”

“They aren’t that cutesy…”

Ekko guffawed loudly at me, almost making me flinch. 

“Vi, there’s birds and bunnies on them. You drink out of styrofoam cups you steal from work, your protein shake cups with the wire balls, or you drink from nothing . Maybe the faucet. Or a hose.”

“You make me sound like a feral animal.” My brow furrowed once more.

“ Well… ” he trailed off, and I smacked him, eliciting a yelp.

“You kids outta learn to respect your elders!” I joked, trying to avoid the question as best as I could. My grip was tight on my bag now as I desperately wanted to avoid this subject. Ekko often joined in on teasing me with Powder about Caitlyn, but he didn’t know the full story, how serious it all was, so he may unknowingly cross a line and I really didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it at that moment.  

“So you admit it!” He screamed, and I sighed, relieved. 

I got lucky and he didn’t prod on about the mugs. 

And shortly after, I took my leave back home and arrived to see that Powder had fallen asleep on the couch. 

She looked as sweet as when she was a little baby, no one could guess the constant atrocities she said to me and practically everyone else. I didn’t wake her, and instead threw a blanket over her. Taking a nap before we left for the airport seemed like a good idea, as we’d need to be awake in the very early hours of the morning that quickly approached. So, I wrapped the mugs up with what little wrapping paper we had (Christmas themed, or technically winter, so I hoped she didn’t mind snowflakes) and set them securely in the center of my suitcase. Then I set one alarm (or ten) and took my own nap on top of my covers. I simply flopped down face first, and I was out like a light, never realizing how tired I was.

.

“ Would you stop that, for Christ sake?” 

“Huh? Oh–” I put the pen down. “ Sorry .”

“ Sheesh ,” Powder sighed. “Why are you so nervous? I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

“It’s… nothing, yeah, I dunno… just nothing,” I blabbed. Before, Powder and I had been doodling, thus the pen in my hand. We were just waiting at our gate in the airport, the last group to board. And when we stopped our doodling in favor of just relaxing back and doom scrolling Instagram, I suppose I subconsciously started clicking the pen over and over again out of nerves.

It was kind of a secret. But I tried to own it. 

I have a fear of flying.

It never made sense to me how those big metal boxes could stay up in the sky for so long, or that they didn’t get struck by lightning more often. When I was a kid I was deathly afraid of the air, having no connection to the ground. Heights didn’t bother me as long as there was a way to get down to the ground, which there usually was. Rocks, windowsills, telephone poles, a tree; I could use my environment around me and get safely down to the ground. So no, I wasn’t scared of heights. I was scared of being helpless if the plane started to go down, and dying because of some idiot’s mistakes. As I grew older, I got better about it, usually just sleeping as much as I could for the duration of the flight. And it wasn’t too bad of a fear, as my broke ass wasn’t traveling all that much. So I was pretty much all good.

Except for now. 

Because I had another secret.

The plane was the least of my troubles now, my anxiety spiking from the undeniable fact that in less than 24 hours I would see Caitlyn Kiramman again. Just talking about doing it and being mature and calm and collected was easy (at least compared to what’s next); I thought I could totally handle this. But now my mind was drifting to reality more and more, and the idea of her just standing in front of me after all those years made me shake down to my bones. But I didn’t want Powder to know that, so to her, this plane ride was definitely going to be a long one of coaching me through breathing exercises I learned in therapy.

The idea of Caitlyn Kiramman still lived in my head through memories, both good and bad. Like a favorite book, I had every detail, every word memorized. A shameful fact that I hardly admitted to myself most of the time. But I indeed did have Caitlyn’s every detail stored away in a filing cabinet somewhere in my brain. 

She wasn’t exactly the kind of woman you let go easily. Especially when she was the one to aid me in so many personal journeys. Those kinds of people do tend to stick. But I had told everyone around me I’d moved on, completely. And despite telling Powder we were going to the wedding for some final closure, as far as I was concerned, I was over her. Old habits just die hard, I supposed. Three years don't just suddenly disappear overnight. Of course not.

Even though I knew she was very likely different, completely different, from how I remembered her, that didn’t stop me from sweating with nerves. The last words we exchanged with each other were those in anger. No goodbyes, no awkward small talk while she moved out. She left while I was at work, not even giving me a chance to wave her off as she got in a cab for the airport. 

Because she had decided to take that job after all.

The last time we saw each other we were both crying, both exhausted, and both voiceless as our shouting had gone on too long. She stormed out, leaving me alone in our kitchen…

And now I was going to be seeing her again. Staring her right in the face. And I wasn’t entirely sure as to why it was freaking me out so much. Did I think she was going to still be mad at me? Did I think I was going to suddenly get mad at her again? Perhaps the fear of an old argument bubbling back up after years of burying it just terrified me to the point of almost throwing up.

“ Hey , Earth to Vi,” my sister was shaking my shoulder. “Our group is boarding.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly. The ocean of thoughts in my head was so close to drowning me, and I had a hard time keeping myself present. That much was obvious. Looking at Powder for only a second, I then stood and made sure we had our tickets ready and in hand.  

Well… here we go.

Shit.

.

The flight wasn’t half bad. To be honest most of my energy went into trying to push Caitlyn from my mind, so I hardly paid attention to the anxieties of the air. At one point I did doze off, only to be woken up by a fleeting bad dream that I couldn’t tell you the details about. Powder entertained herself with a sketchbook the whole time, drawing abstract scribbles of what looked like different monsters battling each other. I smiled when I caught a glimpse of that, reminded of a game we used to play.

But before we knew it we landed.

The constant river of English accents was overwhelming. There weren’t really a lot of English people in our town. I could count them on one hand. And even then I think they’ve moved away now because my memories of them only reside in the time I was in high school. Hearing the familiar round vowels of the infamous London accent was making my head spin. The only place that used to come from was the one and the only Caitlyn Kiramman, and I had grown to associate it with her. 

I avoided watching movies or TV shows with English people in them for a while. 

Maybe that’s pathetic, but the way she talked, so proper, so uptight, was so charming and endearing. I loved everything about it. From the silly words we didn’t use in the US to the way she pronounced words ending in –ittle .

Little. Brittle. Tittle. Spittle.

It always made me laugh and her cheeks would turn pink. I’d pinch them to get rid of her pout and make it worse, usually a shout coming soon after that. But it always ended in giggles. Those memories from over the years started to surface as I heard passersby in conversation, catching a sentence or two that felt all too familiar. Powder managed to ground me, either accidentally or intentionally. I’m not sure if she noticed my rigid movements and darting eyes as I surveyed the airport, but regardless her grip on my forearm as she tugged me to luggage was a well needed distraction and pull back to reality. 

Luckily our things didn’t get lost overseas and as soon as we retrieved our bags we were stepping out into the chilly London air, puffs of hot air expelling from our lips. Even though we were well into April, Europe hadn’t caught the memo yet. Most of the north remained chilly and rainy, spare for a few warm days of sun that lulled everyone into a sweet, false complacency. 

I shuddered and rubbed my arms, my hoodie all of a sudden becoming inadequate. A taxi pulled up not too shortly after I waved one down, and both my sister and I were relieved to get into the car with blasting heaters on. We sighed together on accident, which made us giggle, yet we were silent on the way to the hotel. For different reasons, we were both absolutely drained and positively dreading the bachelorette party we’d find ourselves at in only a few hours.

.

“Holy fuck…”

“My sentiments exactly…” Powder was gaping up at the ceiling, following me into the hotel room.

We both were staring upwards, equally entranced by the giant skylight on the ceiling. We practically felt like we were outside with how much of the ceiling was actually just window. We both couldn’t deny it was stunning; egregiously pompous , but stunning nonetheless. The rest of the room was just as fancy, every surface shining and clean, the two beds made and pressed without a wrinkle, a toilet seat you could eat off of. Insane. 

Powder was more keen on exploring the many amenities and odd, but nice things around the space. While she was stuffing small body wash bottles into her bag, I was busy unpacking mine. The glitz and glamor only held my attention for so long before it all became boring and superficial to me. Instead I pulled my suit out to hang up in the closet. Unsurprisingly, there was a steamer in there too, so any creases that the flight over caused in my one and only suit could be smoothed out by tomorrow. 

Oh God, tomorrow?

Caitlyn’s getting married tomorrow.

I dusted it off despite nothing being there, just to make sure it wasn’t more fucked up than it usually was, and once I was satisfied I let myself fall onto one of the beds. As I flopped down on my stomach I let out a long, dramatic sigh that turned into a groan. I heard Powder still messing around with things in the bathroom, but the noise subsided quickly as my brain faded in and out of the reality of what was around me. Even though I had slept the majority of the flight, my eyes remained heavy, and my brain was already tired. Through the stress of travel in general, I’d been out of energy anyways, but combine that with the mental exhaustion of just the situation , and I clearly had a lot more resting to do. 

My mind was dragging its feet, still unable to fully come to grips with the fact that we were now in another country. Another continent . I was attending a wedding tomorrow, and a wedding of an ex I haven’t seen in five years (I finally did the math on the plane to see exactly just how long it had been). My stomach was in knots, threatening to make me sick, and it felt like a black hole collapsing in on itself. Anxiety was controlling every bone in my body, making my legs shake without remorse. I couldn’t help it. And even though I was trying my best not to spiral down the “why?” question rabbit hole again, it was increasing in difficulty with each passing second. 

So to avoid it, I closed my eyes and willed my brain to turn off. I’d simply just sleep until we had to get ready for the bachelorette party in a few hours. It was sometime in the early evening at a restaurant I already forgot the name of; no doubt a terribly posh one. Though I hoped there would be something there that I could buy. I had managed to exchange my cash for the right currency, because I certainly didn’t expect the family to buy everyone meals. Even though they did rent rooms for overseas guests… make it make sense, brain . But I didn’t want to take chances. With these kinds of people you never knew when the kindness would stop, and when payment was reinstated. 

I trusted Powder to wake me on time, too lazy to grab my phone from where it slid off the bed and hit the floor. Merely, I let my thoughts drift to that comfortable black space of sleep to escape the world around me, even if just for a little bit.

Chapter Text

[ It’s not something I like to talk about.

Like with most embarrassing things in my life, I don’t really enjoy reliving them, especially when that embarrassing thing almost landed me in jail and/or the hospital multiple times. 

And one time it did.

The latter.

A doctor called Powder for me, as I couldn’t form the words at the time, inconsolable with pain, both mental and physical. Laying down and staring upward at fluorescent lights, I thought to myself…

How did I get here? ]

.

Before we arrived at the restaurant for the party, both Powder and I were confused on what to wear. On one hand we knew that bachelorette parties usually were ragers with insanely inappropriate decorations and way too much booze. On the other hand, this was the Kiramman family. A wealthy and proper family living in the heart of London, one of the world's most expensive cities. They had invited the guests to a fancy restaurant, one that would assume phallic-like objects and slutty clubbing outfits wouldn’t really fly. So, was it fancy or casual? That was the question.

However, to err on the side of safety we both chose a relatively fancy outfit to go in. Fancy for us anyways. We both could only pull as far as a button up tucked into some slacks. Mine were black, a pair I bought especially for this occasion as I didn’t really have much reason to wear slacks around. My shirt was a dark mauve, red, maroon, whatever color you want to call it. The last few buttons left undone, otherwise making me feel like I was going to choke. And I didn’t bother to remove any piercings of mine, leaving them all in and including matching silver necklaces that peaked out from under the modest exposure my open shirt allowed. 

Powder already owned a pair of slacks, though they were trendier. They were a dark brown flannel/checkered pattern, her own black button up only tucked in on one side, leaving the other free and dangling. No matter what I advised, she kept it just like that, also wearing doc martens instead of my recommendation of plain dress shoes, which I was wearing. Being there in that moment though, I wished I had doc martens on too, my heels already starting to feel a blister from the stiff, new material. 

We were late, and we blamed the shitty public transport. 

But walking in and being led to the table by the hostess, it was evident everyone there didn’t seem to mind it. It looked as if they were all already at least one drink down, and many more to go, only a few recognizing our arrival. A man I didn’t know raised his glass to us, shouting an obnoxious hello in a ridiculous English accent that Powder laughed at without even trying to hide it. I elbowed her, but she didn’t apologize. I wasn’t too worried about it however, my eyes wandering the long table for a familiar face, my own hands surely shaking at my sides with nerves. 

The sight itself of a long cartoon-y rich person table, many crowded around it, all with their own plates and set of multiple forks– it was unsettling. I never liked the rich, openly defying and making fun of them, and I think they could tell based on the wrinkle of my nose at the overdramatic flower centerpieces or the insanely detailed crystal glasses that they drank crystal clear water from.

I spotted Cassandra, and slightly her eyes widened, the glass raising to her lips pausing in mid air. I returned with a quizzical look, and then saw Tobias next to her lean over and whisper something in her ear. Her expression hardened with understanding yet displeasure as she listened. Tobias looked up then and sent a warm smile to us, to which I waved shyly and Powder didn’t pay attention. She seemed to be looking for someone too, and who, it wasn’t a guess. We both were looking for the same person. The same familiar silky hair, same safe ocean blue eyes, same gentle touch to everything she interacts with in the world around her. But it was missing. That presence was gone, and nowhere to be found. Luckily the table didn’t notice our confused staring, as aforementioned, they were more focused on each other and the drinks splashing around in their glasses. Five different conversations were going on at once, and loud, boisterous laughter ripped through the air every once in a while.

I chanced a glance to Powder, who looked back, and shrugged. I must’ve had a clear look of helplessness on my face, as she didn’t bother to say anything, didn’t think to make fun of me in any way, leaving my fragile mind be for the moment. I exhaled a shuddering breath and once again caught the eye of Tobias, who waved us over, pointing to several open seats in front of him and Cassandra, one looking to already be occupied in the center of the three empty chairs. Powder happily took a seat, eager to get served a roll and inspect the stemware, and I wasn’t far behind. I thought it good that even if this would be awkward, I could get some damn good food out of it. 

“Oh–”

[ “Was she driving?” ]

A voice sprung out from behind my shoulder, and just on instinct I turned around. Never mind my hands were on the back of the free seat, ready to pull it out and sit, that action died then and there as I faced the woman I was seeing again for the first time in years. My knuckles turned white, and my hands stilled in place, forgetting that I was moving to sit.

But there she was.

[ “Please try not to worry.” ]

“...Caitlyn.”

[ “...if you’re not gonna… gonna try, for real try.. for yourself or for me… at least.. try for her for god's sake…” ]

Her eyes hadn’t changed in the slightest, still a deep and dark blue, an ocean full of mystery and promise of adventure, but also dangerous beauty. They were intoxicating, gripping, relentless, and impossible to escape. They locked onto my own two eyes as I watched her look me over with that trademark studious glare she often used to her advantage. Her lips were pursed for a split second in thought, but quickly was overtaken again by the evident shock on her face. But I caught the second, the expression, still a master at reading even the smallest of twitches in her eyebrows. However, I seriously doubted she kept that same information about me up in her head. 

When I looked at her, I saw a stunning blue dress, satin and to her knees, lazily drooping down her slim shoulders in a suggestive yet still classy manner. A bright necklace shone on her collarbone and earrings to reflect against her midnight hair pulled up into a tight, neat bun. She only ever used to wear her hair up when she worked, so I felt my own brow quirk in the faintest suggestion of a question. Perhaps she came from work, quickly changing before arriving without time to redo her hair. That was likely it. 

But the rest of her, everything else was also just as I had remembered. Not even did the skin under her eyes sag or darken, surprising for a woman who I knew as a bit of a workaholic. I was envious, her skin still perfect, her legs still long, and hands still regal. She towered over me in heels, and I gulped.

[ I opened my mouth to say something, anything, back but my mouth was so dry, my throat cracked and dead, so nothing came out. Even if I was able to say something though, Powder wouldn’t have even let a second syllable come out. ]

From her surprised breath to my dumb response of her obvious arrival by saying her name, to when she spoke next was only a couple of seconds. Enough that it was clear we were both startled, but short enough not to attract any attention. Enough to be able to play it off as nothing.

“What’re you doing here?” she said, like she was almost breathless.

[ “Shut up!!” ]

I hadn’t heard that voice in years, and once again I found myself floundering in the details of Caitlyn Kiramman. Selfishly, I soaked up everything in front of me, storing away the memory for later. To reminisce on when I was older and hadn’t seen her for another many years. 

“I was invited,” I blurted frankly. It sounded more tough than it needed to be, but my confusion on her own question trumped that priority. Was this not her party? Did she not make the guest list?

“Oh,” she sighed again. Hesitating, she twitched towards her chair before committing and sitting back down to join the table, leaving me the last one standing. “Powder,” her voice spoke again, lighter now. 

[ “What the fuck were you thinking–!?” ]

“You’ve come too?”

[ “You lied to me!” ]

“You bet,” my sister proudly declared. “What– am I just going to ignore an offer for free fancy food?”

[ “But just imagine if she– she could see you now–!” ]

Upon hearing a polite chuckle come from Caitlyn and a loud chomp on something Powder must’ve gotten from a waiter already— It brought me back to my senses slightly, and I cleared my throat to myself and finally joined the rest of the table. 

Across from me was Cassandra, Caitlyn to my right, and Powder to her right. Tobias sat in front of Cait and once again shot me a silent smile as I got situated and fiddled with the napkin holder. Cloth napkins and napkin holders. The latter always seemed rather pointless to me, but I refrained from making a comment as best I could. When I set the metal ring down onto my plate with a small clink I could’ve sworn I felt eyes on me, from my right, but glancing out of the corner of my eye didn’t get me an answer to that question. 

“How was the flight?”

Cassandra spoke up as she set her glass down, a dark ring of lipstick decorating it in the same spot every time. Powder and I snapped our heads up at being addressed, still fidgeting with things and hunched over like animals almost. Powder like a wolf unwilling to share the spoils from her successful hunt, and me a rabbit cornered and hiding in a tree stump. 

[ “...Hello?” a groggy voice answered the phone. 

“Hello, pardon the early call. This is Dr. Richardson calling from Hex-Health General Hospital. Is this Powder Lane?”

Powder was in bed, as it was the early hours of the morning.

“Uh–yes, yes, that’s me,” she sat up immediately, panic in her voice. “What happened?”

“Well we can discuss details once you get here, which I–”

“I said what happened –!?” She cut him off. The doctor took a breath.

“We have Violet Lane here in the ER. She’s stable, but has been in an accident,” he quickly answered.

“...”

“Miss Lane?”

“Give me five minutes.” ]

The small talk was absolutely excruciating . I could hardly stomach it, much less the odd food and tiny portions. Powder stayed strangely quiet, leaving most of the questions for me to answer. Which I did not appreciate. So much for family loyalty . Cassandra was drilling me with questions, a very odd look that I couldn’t identify but easily noticed in her eyes. I wasn’t sure what her game was here, if she wanted something, needed to know something. She brought out the defensive, skeptical side of me. And sitting next to Caitlyn as I talked with them made it all the more tense and uncomfortable. The girl was remaining mostly quiet as well, munching on her food like a proper lady would. Mouth closed. Cutting the meat gently. Napkin in lap. Dainty sips of water to cleanse her palette. 

Cassandra so far had asked about my work, and what I had been up to since I saw them last. 

Since I saw them last…

She asked how Powder’s grad school was coming along, then inquired about how I had dropped out so close to my own college finish line. Tobias jumped in on that one, smiling through a comment in an attempt to lighten the mood, and I softly, but fakely laughed. It was more than awkward sitting there. My hands were fervently shaking, and it was getting hard to swallow. I stopped trying to eat after a while, attempting to open up my throat again by periodically sipping from my crystal glass. The server was so diligent to keep refilling it I had lost count on how many glasses of water I went through.

Then Cassandra asked me if I was still in the same place as I was before. Or if I had moved. That one stung more than everyone, including myself, was expecting it to. Though, it was an easy enough question. Right? A simple yes or no would do the trick. But as always with my stupid life, it was way more complicated than that. And Caitlyn visibly tensed beside me at the question likewise.

Because that house was ours .

When we moved in together we found a decently cheap enough two bed house for rent in our college town. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but that’s to be expected. It was likely other college kids lived there too before us, throwing parties and not bothering to mop up whatever vodka and vomit smells were left behind. We cleaned it up pretty nicely, and soon we settled in so naturally. A year passed and I left school, just as Caitlyn left to go back to London. She was an exchange student, only at the sister university for the year before needing to go back. But the stupid, smart girl pushed herself and graduated early.

I live streamed her graduation and congratulated her through the screen as her smile reached her eyes. I heard Tobias softly weeping dramatically in the background, making his two girls laugh and hug him.

She came back to me right away. Came back to our house.

And while she was away I was pretty productive by making decently good friends with our landlord. A short old chap with salt and pepper hair and a scruffy beginning of a beard that never seemed to grow. We chatted on the regular when I’d drop off our checks at his office. He’d complain about other tenants, and often complained about how he missed Caitlyn, as he described her as the perfect tenant. Never late, always polite, no damage to the property ever done; In fact she often paid herself to get things fixed instead of calling the landlord for him to hire someone. That was when I offered to be his handyman. For free at first, then he started insisting he lower my rent while I was working for him. 

Eventually I agreed. And it led to me being able to make some serious changes to our own house.

Our landlord trusted me and pitched in when I asked if I could tear down the wallpaper and old cabinets in the kitchen, to replace them with new ones. He eagerly accepted my every offer to replace the old, well used parts of the house, and often came by to check in on me and see if he could help with anything.

So by the time Caitlyn got back home, almost everything was refurbished. Old painted-over wood was stripped clean, resanded, and refinished. A new shower was put in with a gorgeous clawfoot tub in great condition I saw on Facebook Marketplace. New, clean windows were put in. The leak from the roof was permanently patched thanks to the new roof tiles. Her face when she stepped inside almost made her absence worth it. But nothing was better to me than having her back in my arms.

At that point it really had become ours. 

We talked about staying indefinitely, seeing if we could eventually buy the property when the landlord was ready to sell and we were financially responsible to actually do that. At that point it was so painfully us . The details and decor, the hard work I did with my own two hands, Caitlyn’s help to repaint a few rooms on a spur of the moment decision– it made my heart warm. 

We resigned the lease the following year, marking our second year with our home. But it was when we resigned the third time that trouble struck. That Caitlyn got that phone call, we fought, and then she left.

Suddenly the place was void of everything Caitlyn. 

It almost seemed darker despite the many windows and abundant light. Her whole presence was gone, and nothing remained but that stinking hole in my heart. It really didn’t take long for things to fall apart. The place became messy, dishes piled up, the washer and dryer didn’t run for weeks, and my clawfoot tub that I used to love so terribly sat dry. I tore down decorations she had left behind, as well as much of the furniture I could squeeze through the door. They sat in front of the place for a few days with the sheet of paper I attached, advertising these items were up for grabs for free, waving at me each time I came home. The day they disappeared I felt only slightly better.

It was when the drinking started that Powder tried to intervene. She left her college dorm and took up what used to be Cait’s office as her new bedroom. The guilt washed over me every time I saw her, the fact that she was taking care of me, when it should’ve been the other way around. It broke my heart. But she stayed. She listened to my drunken babbles and nursed my hangovers in the bathroom with me. She yelled when I needed to be yelled at, hugged when I needed to be hugged. 

And I tried, I did, but I could’ve tried harder.

Addiction is a disease.

An understatement, and I was lucky Powder was there. Otherwise, I have absolutely no idea where I’d be now. Probably passed out in a ditch on the side of the road. I broke Powder’s heart and trust more times than we could count or remember, and I was more than lucky she decided to stay even after she graduated with her undergrad. 

One summer she helped me paint again, get new furniture and arrange it in a new way. We got new pillows, new blankets, new picture frames, and a few silly things that didn’t really serve a purpose. Like one of those plastic basketball hoops you can attach to a door.

Powder worked to make it feel like my house. A place where I could be comfortable, and no longer haunted by those breakfasts I used to have at the kitchen island. We got rid of that coffee machine and toaster too. I started drinking more cold brew so I could just keep it in the fridge and not mess with a bunch of crap. I never had the patience for it, which is why Caitlyn made it every morning. Not me. 

Eventually the landlord sold the house to me. He charged me way less than its actual worth, and refused anything more. He cited my years of hard work for him, which never ceased, not until he decided to move and retire, thus leaving the property in my “capable hands” as he said. I tried to insist, but he wouldn’t hear it. We didn’t really talk about personal issues, but something told me this old man somehow knew. He knew what this place meant to me. How much it hurt me. How much I loved it. All the memories here, and the new ones I hoped to bring. Maybe he couldn’t put his finger on the real reason why, but it seemed something inside him said I was the one meant to have this house.

And I was grateful.

So when Cassandra asked me that easy, simple, straightforward question, and my mind buffered with everything that happened, I almost dropped my glass. My movements stuttered slightly like a computer rebooting itself before I cleared my throat and finally answered with a stoic, flat, clear tone of voice.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m still there.”

.

(TW for the rest of the chapter, see notes at beginning of chapter.)

.

After Caitlyn was officially out of the states and our relationship long buried, I fell into some bad habits, to say the least. It’s a touchy and tough subject, hence my hesitance to repeat any stories to anyone who asks. Only Powder knows the details, and that was because she was there . 

One night I came home, ate all the shredded cheese out of the bag, and passed out on the floor with the fridge door open.

Another I broke our window in an accident trying to break in because I lost my keys. 

I came home missing my shoes.

I was soaking wet because I jumped into a public fountain. 

I earned three DUIs. 

The last instance almost landed me in a cell overnight, though luckily my little sister pulled through. She always did. When she came back into my everyday life I think she regretted it, seeing all too clearly it was her turn to take care of me . Honestly, I think that’s the only reason she stuck around– because I raised the both of us on my own. No matter how much she hated me for my behavior then, she hated herself equally as much for caring about me. Even though I was a burden. Cause I know she did care. Does . Deeply. And it’s all because of her I’m still alive. 

One night, a particularly bad night, I had driven straight to the bar after work without calling home first. I usually did. I’m not sure what compelled me to not let Powder know I’d be back late. Typically, I tried my best to always let her know when and where I was coming and going. It lessened her anxiety of being home alone if she knew what/when to expect me back. Me opening the door wouldn’t startle her if I told her I’d be home at that time, letting her know it’s not some random burglar. I always called, or at least texted. But maybe it was because it was just such a shitty day at work I didn’t want to hear the disapproving lecture from Powder when I told her I was stopping by the bar for “just one beer” before I came home. That, or maybe I didn’t want to think about her disappointment instead, how her big sister, her role model, had turned into a slobbering drunk unable to handle her own problems anymore. 

Powder told me once when we were younger that she always pictured me as this large statue; one with golden sunlight illuminating the marble it was made of. She described it so eloquently, making me sound pretty, strong, all these things I didn’t even think about. But hearing all the nice thoughts float from her, my whole world, the one thing in my life that’s promised, it was the best day of my life. She called me dependable, reliable, and sturdy. If she were lost, she used me as a land marker, a home base, a safe space to always come back to when she needed time to reassess before trying again. She joked with me that it helped that I was much bigger than her at the time, though she certainly had a few growth spurts between now and then. But she kept the analogy, long after she had grown out of silly, idyllic thinking like that. 

And remembering that analogy is painful now. Even as I never fully understood how she could hold me in such high regards (I surely didn’t deserve it), it was plain to see that I most definitely was not who she knew me as anymore. 

.

The one thing that horrified my sister more than being called “Miss Lane” by the doctor, according to her, was walking into my hospital room. 

I wasn’t awake when she first arrived, but I got the story of what I missed between everyone there watching me later. 

“While we don’t know Violet’s exact–”

“ Vi ,” Powder said.

“Pardon?” the doctor asked.

“She prefers Vi .”

“My apologies.” The doctor seemed tired around the eyes, and he smiled sympathetically in understanding. He was clearly used to hysterics and handling them in his line of work. So he started his sentence over the “correct” way. “While we don’t know Vi’s exact plans of the night, what we do know is she was out, likely binge drinking or something of the sort and–”

“Was she driving?”

The doctor paused at the second interruption, but caught up quickly. “No, luckily. She was just a few blocks away from a bar we assume she had been to, according to witnesses.”

Powder sighed with relief. 

“While she was walking, she suddenly collapsed,” he continued. “We don’t know if those who called an ambulance were friends with her or just bystanders, but regardless she’s lucky they acted fast enough to get her here.”

Powder was staring at me, having yanked a chair from the side of the room up to my bedside. She said she didn’t want to reach out for my hand as the one on that side had an IV in it. She didn’t particularly like looking at it, as imagining needles pumping something into my body made her a little sick. But she brushed her fingers on my arm and elbow, deciding to look up at the nurse and doctor reading from a clipboard.

“She suffered a seizure in the ambulance–”

“Oh God–” Powder choked, shocked.

“But it wasn’t serious, they stabilized her quickly. However, she was still having trouble keeping consciousness and we were worried about her vomiting and choking, however we’re lucky to not have that happen so far.” 

I was propped up a little, my head turned to the side. I remember my neck aching when I woke up, but at least if I had thrown up while unconscious I wouldn’t choke. All I’d have to worry about is ruining my shirt, but hey, I’d rather that than dying, thank you very much. Whatever poison was in my empty stomach managed to stay down though. 

“We’ve started intravenous and oxygen therapy for her, getting her system rebalanced, and we intend to start nutritional therapy as well to get her some of that necessary nutrition to help her body get its energy back.”

“Intravenous…?” Powder asked weakly, a little bit in shock and overwhelmed with all the new and sudden information.

“To make sure she stays hydrated. Most with alcohol poisoning experience all of what I have mentioned before, like severe dehydration. Though the condition isn’t extremely common itself, it was evident in this case.”

“Oh…”

“Please try not to worry,” he said. “We’re confident in a full recovery. We want to keep her overnight, and perhaps the next after we see how she’s doing. But for now, I’ll let you be with her, if you’d like.”

“...please…”

“There’s a button here to press to call a nurse,” the doctor pointed to a green button on the wall by the bed. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Then he left. 

.

When I woke up the sun was setting. I had been out of it the first full day there; it ended right when I was coming to. My stomach ached, my joints creaked, my head was thrumming with my slow heartbeat, and my hand was sore. It sported a bandage from where an IV had been, but now my opposite fitted with a new one instead. Lights were off, and golden light from the sleepy sun was all that filtered into the room, making it feel lazy, slow, and like honey. Faintly I wondered why I had an IV and why the ceiling of my room looked so different, why this hangover was worse than all the other ones I had endured. The last thing I knew I was tiredly making my way home, leaving my car behind knowing I was way too wasted to drive and I likely wouldn’t survive another lecture from Powder about drunk driving. She was right, so it was good I was listening to her, especially that night. I don’t like to think what would’ve happened instead if I had been behind the wheel. But I was trying to keep myself awake by counting the cigarette butts on the ground, and I got to 57 when I had the urge to curl up on a bench for a small nap before I continued. But I didn’t even get the chance to fight the urge as the next thing I remember is stumbling, then black. Faintly I heard some voices, something that sounded like an engine, and then the beeping of some machines. Then nothing until now.

But I was starting to piece things together. Though I clearly don’t remember, it’s evident this wasn’t just another night where I blacked out and magically woke up in my bed the next morning with absolutely no clue as to how I got there. The IV was the first big tell of that. Next was the ceiling, then the hospital gown as I was able to shift around and move my gaze around the room and look down at myself fully. I groaned when I moved too fast, a pain blooming from all around my body, centered in my head. Like the worst migraine you could imagine. However, I had no sanctuary. Before I could process anything else a small balled up piece of paper hit me in the face. 

“What the fuck were you thinking–!?”

Someone screamed, making my ears ring, but I didn’t get a word out as I recognized Powder coming into view. Her teeth were clenched, hot, red tears clearly having been wiped away over the hours, and new ones brewing. In her hand was a pencil and piece of computer paper now crumpled from her tightened fists. 

I saw numerous pieces of paper, some torn, some in balls, some just flown about the room on the floor. A small cup on the floor too with some pens and pencils by a chair that had a blanket hanging from the back. But most importantly there was Powder towering over me at my bedside. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, back but my mouth was so dry, my throat cracked and dead, so nothing came out. Even if I was able to say something though, Powder wouldn’t have even let a second syllable come out. 

“Vi–!” she was exasperated, tired with grief and fury and the utmost amount of worry and care a sibling could have. “You could have died! Did you.. did you know hic, you almost fucking did that–? Think about hic, about that for a damn moment–!”

She was trying to speak clearly through her tears as she leaned forward to brace herself slightly on the mattress. Her hands tightened around the sheets by my own bandaged hand. 

Seeing her so upset naturally brought tears down my face too, I just couldn’t help it. The rush that I was the cause of this, the cause of this pain so clear on her face, almost felt too much to bear. It was worse because this wasn’t even her first breakdown. This was one of many, but the worst one by far. Even after all the ones before, I still kept breaking her heart, destroying her trust, testing her love with each shot taken, and I was damaging her beyond repair. I had broken her for good this time. It was rock bottom. I had officially reached rock bottom, a place I promised I’d never end up, for Powder’s sake.

I used to dedicate my life to her, to my little sister. To protect her even after our parents died, when we were in the system, when we didn’t have a home, food, family, or anything of the sort. I promised her I’d get her to where she wanted to be, to always be there for her to fall back on. I promised to remain that statue forever, strong, dependable, everlasting. 

But I had crumbled. I let the rain waste away at my marble stone like acid, burning me down into the ground until there was nothing left for Powder to look at but a big, dark, depressing hole of melted stone and ash. As she looked at me, I could tell that’s what she saw. I saw the sadness there, that a memory wasn’t there anymore, that the promise was broken. How something she always saw as so shiny and good had become more and more rotten the older she got. She saw the ugly in me, and she watched it consume me. She tried to stop it. Tried to clean me up, but I surrendered to the rain, convinced I could tell the Heavens to stop the storm whenever I liked. But we both knew I was fooling myself. We both knew I was running away from my life. I could see that pain in her eyes, the pain of her knowing I was running away from her too. I didn’t realize I was, but looking back now, it’s so damn obvious. 

“Pow, I–” my grating voice managed to speak a word or two through her crying.

“No--!” but she interrupted me again, furious. “You shut up! You– hic, you fucking promised –! You said hic, you said y.. you’d try! B.. but you didn’t try– try at hic, at all–!”

Gently I listened to her, I didn’t speak, I let her yell as much as she wanted, but I selfishly put my shaky hand over one clasped into the bedding for some semblance of comfort. My heart ached, both good and bad, to see her immediately grab ahold in response. 

“Y.. you said hic, you’d try… try not to g..go so hic, so often… after work…” she sniffled loudly. “And… and.. an’ you fucking–! hic, lied! You lied to me!”

I bit my lip, trying to not cut her off with a sob of my own. 

“I get it…!” she gulped down a big breath suddenly. “I.. I know why… why you started to drink more…” Powder abruptly started attempting to calm the shaking, the hiccups, speaking more evenly. “But just imagine if she– she could see you now–!”

“Pow, please …” I croaked, pathetically letting cries slip through the cracks.

“ Stop–! ” she pleaded. “I know you don’t like me to.. to talk about h-her but Vi.. c’mon… Do you really th.. sniff .. think she wo-would ever want this…?”

I couldn’t say anything back.

“I–” she started, hesitated, but pressed forward. “I know you.. you still care about her, Vi… an–and I don’t care what she’s said… that.. that she hates you or whatever… I know she still cares about you too…” Powder rubbed her face angrily. “So if, if you’re not gonna… gonna try, for real try .. for yourself or for me… at least.. t-try for her for god's sake…”

“Just try to get better, Vi, please…”

Chapter Text

So, Powder and I weren’t really sure when we were supposed to leave. We had no clue what would be rude or not. Leave too early, and we look ungrateful. Leave too late, then we’ve overstayed our welcome. There were way too many rules in the rich world, especially surrounding dining etiquette. We shared several blank and silent stares with one another that communicated nothing more than “what the fuck do we do?” over the course of dinner.

Anytime Caitlyn spoke, it was in response to something her parents said. Or something Powder asked. Oddly, my sister didn’t have any reservations on appearing friendly and kind to my ex right in front of everyone, and I could tell based on her tone that she was surprised by Powder’s forward kindness herself. Yes, Powder teased me over the years by talking about Caitlyn any chance she got, but this was on another completely puzzling level. I cannot recall even the last time Powder smiled at her, or shared such light banter that didn’t immediately offend anyone. This made me more than suspicious. First, she begs to go to the wedding, now she’s acting like Caitlyn is a friend she hadn’t seen in ages and is just dying to catch up with. 

Something was going on. 

Powder had something planned in that big brain of hers, and during one of our quick looks at each other I scrunched my brow at her in distaste. Like always though, she disregarded me with astounding ease.

Either way, the tension during the entire dinner was palpable. Having the source of all of my anxiety and depressive episodes sitting right next to me was doing something to my internal makeup. Butterflies bloomed in my stomach, but then were swallowed up by the stinking pit also occupying the space. Sweat covered my brow in nerves of sounding impressive, but also with the desire to run as fast as I could in any direction that led me away from here. I kept dropping food from my fork due to my trembling hands, my knee couldn’t stop bobbing up and down, I stuttered when I talked, I spaced out, leading to very awkward saves when I realized that someone had said something to me. 

Despite it all though, I was handling it remarkably better than I thought I would. Perhaps it helped that Caitlyn hadn’t directly addressed me or even looked in my general direction once since I sat down. It was easier to dissociate and remove her from the situation when she wasn’t even acknowledging me. The depraved and insane part of my brain wondered if maybe she was feeling this nervous too, but I dismissed the idea. Her curtness and cold shoulder clearly pointed to the fact that she was still holding a grudge.

If I had the brain space I would’ve been upset at that thought. 

Because who was she to hold a grudge towards me after what she did?

Sure maybe I could’ve handled things better but that doesn’t change…

It was only when the parents stood that I fully started to regain all my motor functions and spatial awareness. I hardly registered Tobias shaking my hand, saying he was happy to have seen me again, as he and Cassandra said their goodbyes and started on their way out. I blinked and most of the table was exchanging goodbyes, the previously bright windows now dark with the evening well underway. Caitlyn had gone missing too, walking out with her parents, and something in me acted before I could even process it. I think Powder was trying to get my attention, but I ignored her, walking right after Caitlyn without shame or thought. Something told me I had to follow her, that the next and last time I was going to see her couldn’t be when she was under the altar. 

Our interactions just weren’t over yet. 

I didn’t even question myself when I sped outside, following the family of three out onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Another party of goodbyes was going on with all the friends as I saw Caitlyn thanking people for coming on their way out and past her. Cassandra had disappeared, but Tobias was giving his daughter a hug when she managed a moment from her hostess duties. I was a bit of a distance aways, clearly not part of the interaction, and far enough for the pair to not notice me. But I did hear what Tobias had to say. 

“Have fun, and be safe, darling,” he smiled into their small hug before pulling away. 

“Thanks, dad,” Caitlyn had responded. “And thank you for fibbing to mum about this. I know she doesn’t exactly love this particular group…”

“Don’t mention it, love. Believe me, I understand wanting to avoid an argument with Mrs. Kiramman ,” he chuckled. “I for one am glad you have a group of girls to look out for you when you go out. Makes me feel better knowing you’re that much safer.”

My attention to their confusing and out of context conversation was severed the moment Powder caught up to me. She panted and smacked my shoulder.

“There you are,” she groaned. “You okay?”

Probably assuming I left so quickly due to… emotions… Powder didn’t waste time checking in on me. But she followed my gaze to Caitlyn and her father and hummed, almost like she knew something I didn’t. 

“Huh? Oh– yeah,” I said, finally registering her properly. “Sorry, just got kind of stuffy in there.”

“ Right .” A knowing smile graced her lips, and she jostled me around with the grip she took on my shoulder again. I was ready to bite back when all of a sudden, a shrill greeting was yelled across the street.

“Oi! Ya bird!”

We whipped our attention to see a gaggle of young women in an assortment of different short dresses and feather boas crossing the street. They approached, laughing and seemingly already wasted (or so they appeared) and they swarmed Caitlyn who was now all by her lonesome. Her father must’ve left in that quick second I was looking away, because now it was only a sea of bleach blonde hair, tight clothes, light up tiaras, and a sash that said “bride to be” now being draped over Caitlyn’s shoulders. They were loud and boisterous, talking over each other as Cait laughed with them, seemingly a little embarrassed to be the center of attention. My sister and I just helplessly watched, a little in shock, not expecting this in general, but also that Caitlyn would surround herself with these types of friends.

Okay, maybe that was a bit judgmental. 

We hadn’t even talked to them. But we supposed–

“Oh! My! God! Caitlyn you cheeky, mental, woman! You never said your ex was such a peng!”

“Alie!”

It wasn’t too long until one of the women (then a few more) spotted us, and for some godforsaken reason, we were recognized immediately. The first words (and every other word for that matter) they said hardly made any sense to us, and it dawned on me that damn… these are the most London people alive. Their slang made absolutely no sense. Some things you could make out due to context or television. But others just sounded like insults or dirty words. And knowing England… well they probably were.

A peng?

When I blinked at the woman coming closer to me, she grinned at me sympathetically.

“ Oh, poor girl , we must be so random!!” She reached out and briefly shook my limp hand, then gave me a sultry, suggestive look. “You’re Vi right? Caitlyn’s old snog-mate?” 

“Martha!”

Caitlyn screeched upon hearing what her friend said, though I didn’t quite catch it the first time around. But given a few more seconds I managed to put two and two together. When Powder slapped my back, trying to choke down her laughter at the ridiculous accents, I was finally able to choke up my own words. 

“Uh–!” I coughed, then cleared my throat. “Yeah, uh, that’s me.”

“ Aww , I forgot she was a yank!” another friend called from across the small group, which now was all shuffling over to us. 

“Don’t be such a snob , Marissa!” one more shouted back.

I tried to tune it out, accidentally making sudden eye contact with Caitlyn in the process. Her expression was mortified, and it was clear then that I decidedly was not supposed to be a part of this. She clearly thought we must’ve left or something, because just looking at her she was obviously way too uncomfortable with my being here. To be fair though, I was rather uncomfortable too now that all these women were ogling me, and my sister was providing very little help besides cackling rudely. They didn’t seem to pay her much mind, however.

“How do you–” I started, confused more than anything at how I was so easily identified by this pack of complete strangers. 

“Oh, we must go on a chinwag,” the original woman, Martha, said. “You’ve got to tell me everything , love.”

“A–” I was baffled as she took a hold of my shoulders, the group now deciding to start moving to an unknown (to me anyways) destination. “A what–?”

The few girls that were still paying attention to me as we walked giggled. They may have made some kind of comment too, but I was too overstimulated to really understand or fully answer anything directed at me. They teased and laughed and encouraged me to keep up while also acquainting themselves with Powder who was happy to introduce herself. Though I was sure she was only so inclined because she saw these women as more of a form of entertainment than anything else. The rude little fiend.

It was when I was mentally debating and trying to come up with an excuse to leave that I heard a mention of a club. And a drag club at that. Called the Queen Victoria . (Now, if that wasn’t blasphemous then I didn’t know what was.) And with how much Powder was laughing at all the silly words floating around it seemed like I was really in for the ride. Powder wasn’t going to help me in my attempts to get away, that’s for sure. Not to mention I was shamefully and subconsciously watching Caitlyn from behind as she made her way effortlessly through the London streets. She was doing a damn good job at pretending I wasn’t there, but when I had the view I did I couldn’t complain.

Shut up, brain. Figure out what a “chinwag” and a “peng” is from Martha instead, you pervert. 

.

Not even ten minutes into arriving at the club I sought out the bathrooms. I had made my peace with being dragged there by the time we showed up and figured I could at least relieve my bladder and watch drunk people embarrass themselves. That was always a fun time.

I watched Powder get a drink, the other ladies flounder around Caitlyn, and drag queens wade around the crowds with their hands on their hips and bills sticking out of their cleavage. Swaying in between people, I felt my gut full of water spin around. It started an immediate need to find the bathrooms and take a piss, as I had drunk way too much water at phase one of the party. Sipping the crystal glass kept my mouth busy, making me look less awkward and less rude when I inevitably answered a question slower than what was considered polite. So, watching as Powder waved her drink at me from across the crowd, signaling she was all good, I mouthed to her where I was going. She nodded, leaning an elbow on the bar in a casual way.

It only took some quick glancing around before I saw some drunk women giggling and stumbling into a swinging door. On its front was a picture of Marilyn Monroe in her iconic blown up skirt look, signifying the women’s bathroom. I just let unimportant and wandering thoughts swim around in my head as I made my way through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone. 

When I reached the door I almost sighed, being squeezed from the tight grip of the dancing group of people like a wet bar of soap in someone’s hands. I shot out, barely exiting with any sense of grace before I rolled my shoulder absentmindedly and reached for the door. 

And I was almost there, hand on the cold surface, before I was yanked away. Suddenly, I was pulled backwards by my shoulder, stumbling blindly as I was also turned around and shoved into a more obscured corner near the bathrooms. Firstly thinking this to be an incredibly impatient and rude clubber, a myriad of insults were on the tip of my tongue, but they halted halfway up my throat. I choked, almost coughed, my back to a wall and my surroundings all becoming the tall drink of water that was Caitlyn Kiramman once more.

In her heels she was towering over me as she had a stern look about her face. Hair framed her cheekbones, a bit more wavy and wild after she let it down from her tight bun. A small strand was stuck to her lip gloss, and before I could get my question out, she brushed it away and cut me off.

“What the Hell are you doing here?!” she yelled, having to speak over the loud music. 

“I already told you!” I scoffed back, my face scrunching up in irritation. I didn’t recall her memory being that short– in fact, quite the opposite. “I was invited! ”

“Oh, stop it with that! Just tell me the truth!”

“That is the truth!”

I couldn’t hear it, as it was muffled under some early 2000s pop song, but she groaned. Momentarily she squeezed her eyes shut in concentration, seemingly mad at the loud environment too. Caitlyn tightly crossed her arms over her chest, glancing around and shifting her weight from one hip to the other. 

“Why did you invite me?” I screamed back, feeling myself bubble with defensive hostility. “We don’t talk for like, what? Four, five years? Then out of nowhere I get an invite to your wedding ? Like what the fuck is that about!”

Her own expression shrank in anger as well. 

“Well! Forgive me for being polite!”

“ Polite? ” I laughed. “Yeah, you’ve been a real good host so far, Cupcake!”

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

Truthfully, the nickname slipped out by accident, not realizing I had said it until she was red in the face with agitation. It seemed to tick her off more, like when we had first met. Not like four or five years ago when she’d laugh and roll her eyes at me.

“Sor–”

“Was it my parents?” she cut me off, and my apology died on my tongue.

“What?”

“My parents!” she shouted. “Were they the ones who invited you to my bachelorette party?”

I was bewildered, and my head hurt from the deafening music. The people behind Caitlyn’s shoulder blurred out and the vibrations in the floor rumbled my brain against my skull in an uncomfortable way. She was being cryptic, asking questions to only satisfy her own end of curiosities. She was not at all interested in answering my own. That much was obvious. 

“Was it payback? After all this time?”

“What the f–”

“That’s incredibly childish, Vi!”

Rubbing my hand on my forehead I sucked in a deep breath to keep myself from blowing my lid. The fact that I was already yelling helped quite a bit. 

“Did you call them up after you got my invite? Get yourself invited to my party? Just to ruin my one night of fun?” she slapped herself on the chest to indicate it was indeed her she was talking about, like I didn’t already know.

“What!?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, truly. “Believe it or not, Caitlyn, the whole fuckin’ world doesn’t revolve around you! I have more important shit to do than plan out my revenge against you for dumping me five years ago!”

That one looked to hurt, as her next words didn’t make it out of her mouth. She had inhaled to yell back but seemed to get caught off guard. Momentarily I saw a vulnerable look in those blue eyes, but she blinked, and it was gone. Her face twisted with fury again just as fast. 

“It’s not so outlandish to think you’d do something so immature!” Caitlyn managed a jab back. “Besides, you’ve gone to them before!”

My gut fell in an instant at the subject being brought up to the very front of the stage. We’d been tiptoeing around it all this time, but now I was terrified of being asked that question once more. I hid my shaking hands by tightening them into fists, clenching my teeth or biting my bottom lip so hard I swore I tasted blood. 

“Oh my God ,” I remember I sounded so exhausted, exasperated. “Are you shit faced already?”

“What did you even go to them for the first ti–”

“I’m not discussing this anymore!” Blowing up was now the only option, and I was embarrassed to admit I had to stand on my toes to get up into her face before I tried to march away. However, I got only three steps before she caught up and trapped me in an exchange again.

“I could be mad too you know!” 

“Oh really ?” incredulously, I mirrored her crossed arms and tilted my chin up at her in defiance. 

“You’ve never even told me why!” she said, her voice wavering unexpectedly. “They won’t tell me either! Why on Earth would you go to talk to them– without me, too! I never considered you so stupid until then!”

“Yeah, well I know how you like your detective shows!” was my response. “So maybe you can try and figure out that mystery too, Cupcake!”

That time I said the name on purpose, relishing in the pained look in her eyes before guilt washed over me almost right away. I swallowed it down and forced it away, my anger trumping any and all reason. Again, I attempted to push past her, succeeding this time in hitting her shoulder, but she stopped me once more. I practically growled at her persistence. She was getting ready to make a comeback, but I didn’t want to hear it, so I didn't let her get it out.

“I’ve been needing to piss since dinner and unless you want me to ruin your precious Louis Vuitton shoes, I suggest you get the fuck out of my way!”

That seemed to do the trick, my third attempt to escape being the one that actually worked. I didn’t spare her a glance as I pushed into the bathroom and immediately claimed a stall, ignoring her shout after me.

“They’re Prada!”

I didn’t come out of the bathroom for at least an hour.

Trying to calm down with people throwing up around you was harder than it looked.

.

Caitlyn was pissy. 

Or so I had heard.

Powder told me the morning after that she watched the woman stomp away from where the bathroom was and next to her at the bar. It didn’t appear she knew Powder was standing there, elbow on the wooden bar top, sipping a Shirley Temple Black through a skinny red straw. Caitlyn threw her credit card down, opened a tab, and promptly (or rudely, in Powder’s words) ordered several shots for herself. Powder was a tad shocked at this, not taking Caitlyn for a shots girl (she’s not) and not expecting several shot glasses to be placed in front of her at a time. Powder glanced around, seeing most of the blonde-headed bimbos (again, her words, not mine) that Cait called friends on the dancefloor. Yet Caitlyn was drinking alone– well , not entirely; not anymore.

“Want help with those?”

Caitlyn jumped, apparently really not realizing Powder was indeed standing there. She squeaked out an ‘Oh!’ before taking a large gulp of air as a sigh of relief. 

“You startled me, Powder,” she laughed, not having to talk nearly as loud at the bar. They were further away from the action. 

“I thought you said on the walk over you weren’t gonna drink much,” she nodded at the four little glasses now full of clear, potent liquid and Caitlyn wryly smiled. 

“Well,” she sighed again. “Change of plans.”

According to my sister the two of them shared some drinks and some laughs, and she watched as Caitlyn got progressively more and more drunk. She didn’t want to stop her, because one, she’s an adult who can do what she likes, and two, Caitlyn is a very fun drunk. I can attest to that as well, no matter how she’d protest. Each shot that she got deeper into the drunken world, the gigglier and the more open she got about things. It was entertaining to watch, like a circus animal being set free and watching them prance around an open field for the first time. Little sheltered Caitlyn, who grew up needing to be nice and proper, polite and humble, could finally let her hair down and act a little irresponsibly. I loved seeing that side of her. I cherished each moment I had to witness that raw beauty. I was proud to see that side come out more and more when we were together, her getting comfortable acting that way without the aid of booze. But now it was clear she’d shut herself up again. She’d gone rigid, stiff, and that side hadn’t been released in God knows how long.  

.

Caitlyn scoffed from her seat at the bar, a shot glass grasped tightly in between her elegant fingers. Her back was against the wood of it, her legs crossed as she swiveled idly on the stool slightly. Powder remained standing next to her, similarly, leaning back as she sipped her second drink of the night and listened to Caitlyn gripe. A rant that she wasn’t listening to. Apparently, it had been going for awhile, but when I finally emerged from the bathroom it heightened in intensity tenfold. Caitlyn spotted me trying to make my way back to the bar, where I didn’t see her at all. My focus was on the immediate person in front of me, and unfortunately, I got caught up in the group of girls that called themselves Caitlyn’s friends. They bombarded me with questions, only knowing the basics about me, and that Caitlyn and I used to date. 

Juicy gossip .

Meanwhile it gave both women at the bar a good show by watching me struggle and get shoved around by dancing, drunk strangers.

Caitlyn threw back shot number unknown (she’d lost count, and so had Powder), and with the gasping breath to follow she groaned. This snapped my sister back into real conversation with the leggy bride-to-be. 

“God!” she slurred. “She’s jusss always been suu— suuch an immature prssnn.” Caitlyn ordered another drink. “It’s ‘onesstly suuch a shock shess evn ‘ere.”

“Really knocking those back, huh?” Powder observed. “What’s got your undies in such a twist?”

“Vi! Of courssse! ‘Ave you nnot been listenin’ to me?”

Powder stared at Caitlyn, a bored expression on her face as she looked over the absolutely dilapidated state that she was in. She wouldn’t admit it, but I knew that Pow started to get worried about her. Maybe it had to do with binge drinking or something… and Caitlyn was still an important person to me at the time despite my inane denial. That connected her to her big sister, which meant Pow had a reason to get worried. All the years after our breakup, Powder started talking about Caitlyn like she liked her. Which I knew for a fact she didn’t. When we first started dating, her anxiety and paranoia got all mixed up with Caitlyn. Wrong place, wrong time. She blamed Caitlyn for a lot of things, took out her anger on her, always took my side in arguments (which isn’t always what I needed to be honest, because more often than not I was in the wrong). But after she left, Powder suddenly… missed her.

She talked about her Instagram posts; things we saw that reminded her of Caitlyn. She brought her up way more often than I was comfortable with, and she always ignored my warnings. I didn’t know it at the time, but Powder knew more than what she was telling. She had an agenda. Powder is such a smart girl, I should’ve known she had something up her sleeve all those years. It took me quite a while to figure out. I didn’t know it in this moment, and I certainly didn’t know it further back then either.

Regardless, over time some kind of care for Caitlyn bloomed in my sister. Somehow. But now Cait was badmouthing me, ranting about my immaturity (which is fair considering how I acted years ago, her only frame of reference). And that rubbed Powder the wrong way. She had been there while I was growing, but Caitlyn wasn’t; a mixture of the hostility and the fact of how could Caitlyn know any of that if she wasn’t there mixed ugly in Powder’s gut. She’d matured a lot too though, not so prone to giving into intrusive thoughts and remaining calm. 

When Caitlyn didn’t get an answer, she just scoffed again, and downed the new drink she got, hissing at the burn of whatever liquor the bartender gave her. She continued when she caught her breath.

“She nev’a could facce things!” she yelled. “Like oh my god I cnnt tell you ‘ow many times she juss left in the middle of an argumnt–! Phhft – an’ she jus did it again!”

“What? From earlier? She needed to piss, genius,” Powder sipped her own drink, mostly water from her melted ice cubes now. “And you didn’t exactly start the conversation in a diplomatic manner.”

“But–”

“You know she’s not like that anymore, right? Ever think she might’ve learned since you dropped her outta nowhere?”

“Well duh– !  A‘course peopll changge an’ groow but— But she didn act diffrnt jus now–” Caitlyn’s slurring was getting pretty bad. Her London accent was rendering her words almost indistinguishable from pure gibberish.

“The old Vi would’ve been too petty to fly across the goddamn Atlantic to come to her ex’s wedding . She would’ve sent back the RSVP with a picture of her flipping you off. I mean, you said yourself how shocking it is that she’s here, right?”

Caitlyn merely stared, listening now and suddenly, a bit of shame washing over her body as Powder continued.

“You really fucked her up, y’know. Not even letting her give you a proper goodbye. No closure. And she got into some nasty shit after that.”

“Like…” Caitlyn sounded a bit more sheepish. “Like what?”

And even though it was a private matter, something I was ashamed of and didn’t like to share, Powder didn’t hesitate to blurt out my whole tragic story. But it was because it was Caitlyn. I was pissed at first when I found out she told her, but later on I was kinda grateful. She had that hard conversation for me, because ultimately, I would’ve wanted Caitlyn to know at some point. 

It was Powder’s turn to scoff, sipping the last of her watered-down cocktail. 

“Landed herself in the hospital with alcohol poisoning for one.” She heard Caitlyn swear in shock, but she continued to speak over her. “Sure, you’re not responsible for what she decided to do after you left, but I think you just ought to know how treating someone who loves with their whole heart like absolute shit, like you did, can have disastrous and fatal effects.”

According to Powder, she thought Caitlyn was about to start crying on her. She swore her eyes got glassy and there were tears on her water line, however she never did let them go. Somehow, she covered them up and pushed them down, if they were even there to begin with, that is.

“She’s sober now. Doesn’t do any kind of anything. Only drugs she takes are her prescribed medications.”

Together, they looked out onto the dancefloor, where I was still hilariously trying to worm my way out of the girl group holding me hostage. I was getting increasingly frustrated but also awkward with their personal and incessant questions about mine and Caitlyn’s old relationship. About why I came. About how I looked quite a bit like Victoria, don’t you think?

That last one hit me like a truck, like the wind got knocked outta me. I decided it was then that I really needed to get outta there and catch my breath.

“I didnn know..” Caitlyn mumbled, watching me tug myself free in the distance.

“You didn’t ask,” Powder spared her no glance, also keeping her eyes on me. “You just assumed .”

.

When I got back and popped out of the crowd, I almost stumbled right into my little sister. She laughed at me and shoved my shoulder, giving me no indication that the pair had been seriously discussing me just moments earlier.

“Woah woah!” she shouted at me. “How many shots of sparkling water have you had? I’m cutting you off!”

I laughed back, cursing at her, not knowing how thematically appropriate and perfectly timed that joke was. It had been long enough that Powder and close buddies could poke fun at me about all that. Humor has helped me cope quite a bit, actually. But I didn’t get much of a response out before I felt a tug on the shoulder of my shirt. I hadn't fully registered that Caitlyn was also there since Powder’s big energy distracted me, but when I looked over, I was able to fully take in her form for a second time in that bar.

It was a stark contrast to how she looked when she confronted me an hour or so ago (I think, I have no idea how long I was trapped on the dancefloor). She was clearly drunk, her lip gloss mostly gone and stuck to a number of shot glasses if I had to guess. But she was also smaller in stature. She was leaning on the bar and somewhat curled into herself, like she was embarrassed or suddenly felt really cold. Which I wouldn’t have been surprised by honestly. Caitlyn was always cold, no matter where we went. I used to tease her about it, but something (maybe the fact that we had just been screaming at each other) told me this wasn’t the right time to jeer. She kept her hand holding onto my sleeve as she yelled over the music.

“Eyy, can we talk ou-sside?” When she clocked my confused expression she added: “ Please? ”

Powder patted my back when I looked back at her for some clarity or context, because maybe she knew why Caitlyn suddenly wanted to talk. And why she was acting more demur now versus when she was on the warpath earlier. But Powder just ushered me out with Caitlyn, her way of telling me I should hear her out. So I nodded and followed her outside, trusting Powder wasn’t just trying to get rid of us. But I more so escorted her rather than followed, as the drunk woman was somewhat holding my sleeve for a bit of balance on her heels.

We made it outside with no problem, and she was quick to put her arms around herself when the wind hit us. She stopped her stumbling after leading us to the side of the building, the one with little to no lights, and where no one in the parking lot could immediately overhear us. Caitlyn leaned herself against the wall with a sigh, but immediately recoiled as her exposed upper back touched the cold brick. She rubbed her arms and I had half the mind to offer her my jacket, the one I hadn’t gotten around to taking off yet, but she started talking before I had the chance.

“I juss wanted to ‘pologize for b’fore..” she wavered on her heels and looked at the ground. “It wss mean n undeserved, an’ I let my emotions get the better uh-of me…”

I was stunned. I hadn’t seen Caitlyn express humility like this in a while, and so soon after an argument. It really got me thinking about what Powder and her must’ve been talking about. 

Caitlyn was always one for amicable arguments, debates, remaining calm, and listening to one another. It was usually me who got things all messy, which undoubtedly frustrated her to no end. But she was patient with me, although also very stubborn. Took a lot to convince her she was wrong about something. The only time, however, I’ve seen her explode was our final breakup fight, and then just now in the club. And she never expressed sorrow or humility about the former situation, which set a precedent; I suppose she wasn’t doing that here either, but it felt close. Almost felt like she wanted to fit an apology for the breakup into the apology about our recent fight but couldn’t conjure up the words in her drunken brain.

Man, I've been there.  

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking…

“Hey… uh, it’s– it’s alright.” 

It wasn’t. Not really. She was right that she shouldn’t have spoken to me like that, we both knew that. But I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that either. Before I could even think, I was forgiving her, and then saying ‘sorry’ myself.

“I should apologize too, y’know.. I shouldn’t’ve said all that shit.”

“Yeah, but I inss-tigated it–! I juss showed up like ‘blaah!’ y’know?”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at her goofy response, to which I think she noticed and pouted out her bottom lip. Because she was being serious, damn it. It all felt familiar, and that left a warm but incredibly strange feeling in my chest that traveled down to my gut. As she riled herself up in her apology, seemingly wanting to take most, if not all of the blame, I could tell her heels were being a huge hindrance. She was gonna fall over if she wasn’t careful, as they were taller than ones she typically wore. At least ones I used to see her wear. Just out of instinct I grabbed her shoulder to steady her, something she didn’t respond to but was surely grateful for. It was getting harder for her to keep her eyes open, and I could see her getting dizzy. 

I knew the signs a little too well. 

“Hey, hey,” I said, attempting to keep her from spiraling, from drunkenly falling into a pit of emotions. “S’all in the past now, right?”

She paused and she looked at me, she searched my eyes, and the eye contact started to make me sweat even in the chilly weather. 

“You promise?” she said. “We’re good–?”

“Yeah, we’re good… Promise.”

My voice was more gentle than normal, a softness I saved for important moments like when Powder needed comfort and a hand to hold after a bad panic attack. It just happened automatically. I still had every bit of Caitlyn memorized, seeing genuine shame in her eyes, and because of that my subconscious decided for me that it was time to start the journey of forgiving Caitlyn. First step was accepting her apology for our little spat, one that neither of us handled well. And it felt good. It felt good knowing we could still talk openly like this, even if we were only… friends, even if she was blackout drunk. 

Baby steps. 

At my answer Caitlyn let out a large sigh of relief and finally, finally smiled. Like, a real one. A real Caitlyn Kiramman smile. Not one of those fake ones she put on for appearances or parties. It was wide and free and showed off her gap tooth. A breath of fresh air it was. 

Briefly I wondered if she was still insecure about her gap. That was a thought I was working hard on demolishing for many years, and a small wave of jealousy washed over me in thinking that Victoria might’ve been the one to actually be successful on that mission. But that was all hypotheticals, and ones that would drive me insane if I indulged in them. I’ve had plenty of things thrown at me and shouts from Powder as punishment for digging myself into those holes and hiding in my room all day. 

Besides, I was still in denial about my feelings at this point. So how could I possibly be jealous, right?

“ Oh , ffank heavnnns,” Caitlyn sighed, then flung her arms up. “Hu-ug it out?”

I laughed, but indulged her, knowing she’d forget about it in the morning. She wasn’t a hug person, not unless she drank whiskey. So, I knew at least one of the things she drank to get like she was. We wrapped each other up in a casual hug, until I heard Caitlyn speak into my shoulder, suddenly drawing closer.

“Oh my god you’re so warm…”

And Caitlyn was freezing.

Without even thinking she re-hugged me but tried to get under my jacket with me this time. I could feel her frozen hands shaking on my back through my shirt, and her red nose nuzzled into the space between my neck and shoulder in an attempt to hide from the wind. I laughed awkwardly, my arms hovering around her, where she was, not sure if I should return this type of hug. Caitlyn probably didn’t even realize what she was doing. She was just being the animal that humans are, drawing close to whatever heat source is nearest. It probably didn’t occur to her that hugging her ex like this the night before her wedding could be misconstrued or be considered inappropriate. I was warm and she was cold, that was it. But the awkwardness of being the one hugged embodied me from head to toe, and I tried to laugh it off, ignoring my own shiver down my spine and attributing it to her cold skin.

“Hey, let’s head back inside where it’s warm,” I proposed, staying completely still with wide eyes.

“Jussa second,” Caitlyn mumbled back, muffled by the collar of my shirt. “Don’ wanna go back into tuh cold yet…”

I didn’t wanna argue with her, especially after this little connection to our old friendliness was rediscovered, so I tried to suck in some deep breaths and let them go. She seemed comfy, and from what I could crane my neck to see, she had her eyes closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” I joked, then tacked something at the end. “What would your fiancé think seein’ you stuffed in another woman’s jacket?”

Caitlyn snorted, an indication she found my messing around funny. Which was good at least. But she didn’t make to move or respond further than that. So I accepted my fate, my resolve not very strong in the first place. Again, denial , but I was secretly savoring the familiar feeling. A feeling I had missed so much. I let her warm herself up for a while longer, let her hold on tight, let her now messy hair tickle my jaw, and I let my arms finally fall back on her to return the embrace. That made her snuggle closer, as I now was shielding her back from the cold. I regretted it and didn’t all at the same time as soon as it happened, legitimately worried someone would see this odd interaction. But where we were on the side of the building, mostly obscured by the lack of lamp posts, no one should see us unless they came searching on purpose.

“I heard yurr ssober now..” I felt Caitlyn vibrate her words into my shoulder after a while. But my immediate reaction to that statement made me rigid and nervous, like a deer caught in the headlights. Anger at my sister, but a kind that hadn’t quite set in yet at that moment; but I knew it would later, when Caitlyn wasn’t attached to me like a baby koala with its mother. I stuttered ungracefully for a second or two to little success, but Caitlyn interrupted me. “...‘mm proud a’ yoou…”

That extinguished the fire of shame and embarrassment, soothed me almost immediately. If I was a bit more vulnerable and less shocked at the entirety of the ridiculous situation, I probably would’ve teared up. I didn’t know until that moment how badly I needed to hear that from her. Acknowledgment at my hard work, knowing how much I’ve grown, how much time and effort I’ve put into myself over the years. Of course, I wanted an apology from her (since forever) about the initial breakup fight, but like I said, baby steps.

And this was another step in the right direction. 

And it felt good.

Before I could mutter out a pathetic ‘thank you’ Caitlyn suddenly lifted her head. That side of her hair was mussed, and her eyes were squinty like a four year old who just woke up from a nap. It was kinda adorable. But her face went pale, and she grumbled to herself before quickly stumbling her way out of my jacket and arms.

“ Oh no – it’s happening –”

Caitlyn turned and made her way to the small patch of grass and bushes against that side of the building. She tripped a bit over her own heels, but didn’t fall, and I caught on rather quickly saying ‘ oh oh, okay, go ahead I gotcha’ and taking a hold of her hair when she got down on her knees.

And then she threw up.

The booze in her system finally said it’s time to go. I looked away, wanting to give her some semblance of privacy, but kept one hand holding her hair while the other rested on her back. Subconsciously I think I started rubbing circles there as I heard her cough and spit, making sure to get all the poison out of her body. And after a beat, she groaned, and sat up straighter, shivering once again from the cold weather. This time I didn’t hesitate, taking my jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. 

“ Aww ,” Caitlyn cooed, her slurring disappearing but her sleepiness starting to take over. “Still such a gentleman after all these years…”

“Feel better?” I asked, watching her close the jacket around herself and ignoring her compliment.

“I think so… sorry,” she sighed, but I waved her off with a shrug of my shoulders. 

I helped her to her feet, and she wobbled only slightly, still not entirely sober or used to the height. She giggled at herself before taking my arm to keep herself steady when we walked back inside. 

However, she was off me just as fast, as when we entered, Caitlyn’s friends found us immediately and dragged her away. They were all laughing and stumbling, yelling about a certain song that they all just had to dance to. 

Chapter Text

I went to rehab. 

For just over a year, I shared a room with an old woman named Marge who laughed at nothing and liked to snoop through my stuff. The little stuff they actually did let me bring. 

A picture of me and Powder at her high school graduation, not framed. 

One notebook and pencil.

Basic toiletries and clothing.

A necklace Caitlyn gave me one year for Christmas.

Cash for vending machines.

Band-Aids, my preferred fabric kind, for when I inevitably bit my fingernails too much.

It wasn’t a hard transition for me, as rehab proved to be remarkably similar to juvie, but the staff there actually give a rat's ass about helping you get better. And no uniforms. When I was in juvie, it was mostly for petty crimes that others got away with, but I didn’t for some reason. Some kind of bias I’m sure, but I never really could place my finger on it. Regardless, as I was constantly going in and out, Powder was luckily well taken care of by the owner of the adoption center we were in for awhile. Nice guy; tall, gruff, could beat the shit outta you, but won’t. He taught me to box, taught me how to not get my nose broken, and that if I did, to not blow my nose afterwards ‘cause that’ll make my eyes swell shut. 

He vouched for me a lot, got me out of that shithole every time, and eventually got me to start actually caring about the consequences of my actions. Helped me grow up, helped me get my head in the game so I could properly take care of Powder when we left the system. 

I thought about him a lot in rehab.

I didn’t know what he was up to now, as we never really checked back in after I aged out of it and took Powder with me. Hell, he could be dead from a stroke or something and I didn’t even know it. If he was, I thought about him looking down on me, and what he’d think. Disappointed that I landed myself in rehab in the first place? Or proud I was finally dedicated to getting some help? I wasn’t always sure. 

He came up in my memories often while I went through desperate nights of withdrawal symptoms. That first month I slept maybe a total amount of 20 hours. He’d show up, a hallucination I’d see every now and then, there to scold me into behaving, to remember why I was there, and how much Powder and I still needed each other. I became an insomniac, suffered a few more seizures at seemingly random times, and had constant headaches. The more time that went by, and the more medication they had me testing out (seeing which one was a proper fit), the less the symptoms got. Thankfully. Yes, thank God .

Powder visited often and came additionally for family therapy once a week. Personally, I was too scared to talk to this therapist the first couple of times, not exactly comfortable opening up about why I was there– even though she had my entire history written down and pinned to her clipboard. Eventually they broke me though, and Powder and I spent more time and tears on those moments than I think we have anywhere else. It made sense she was truly hurt by me, because I truly did hurt her, and I had a lot of atonement to work after. 

On days she visited just for fun though, she’d update me about her school, bring me a candy bar, or show me a video she filmed of a new do-dad she’d made from soda cans and paper clips. We’d mostly just talk, sometimes inside on rainy days, but often outside as we made circles in the courtyard. She’d remark often how my hair was getting too long, as I didn’t ever think to cut it. But it was true. The shorn side of my head was getting dangerously grown out– to the point where you could just barely grab onto the hair on that side of my head and pull. 

“Think I should let it grow out all the way? Get everything the same length?” I asked one day, but Powder sputtered in disgust.

“Absolutely not . You and complete long hair don’t mix.”

“And why is that?” I snorted, almost offended at her quick and absolute response. “I could pull it off.”

She turned to look at me more directly. “When have you ever had long hair?”

I thought about it, scratching my scalp as I was now naturally playing with it, dye pretty faded too, and my dark brown roots pretty grown out. I played memories through college, then high school, when I originally shaved half my head on impulse. But even in middle school and before that I had a weird shaggy pixie that never got too much longer than my ears. The nape of my neck always remained exposed too, no memories of hair tickling down my back coming to the surface. Just constant wiping of sweat from the short cut with my palm. It dawned on me that this was likely the longest my hair had ever been. I hummed.

“Good point,” I admitted, then shrugged. “What about an undercut?”

“You wanna abandon your half ‘n half punk lesbian look?” Powder gasped dramatically. “I don’t know if I’d recognize you.”

“Right, sure,” I laughed. “I’ll get more piercings then; to keep the punk status you’ve given me. How's that?”

She shrunk her eyes into a squint and rubbed her face in thought, looking up at me. “Y’know what,” she started. “I think you’d look good with a lip piercing, or ooh – maybe an eyebrow one. Next to the scar to make it look more metal .”

“I thought I was supposed to be punk ,” I teased back, a smile on my face.

She groaned. “You know what I mean.”

I did end up getting more piercings though. Several I gave to myself while going through some kind of manic episode with a sewing needle I found in a portable kit left behind by some forgetful nurse in a bin of crafting supplies somewhere. But it wasn’t anything crazy, I just gave myself more ear piercings, convincing Powder to bring me small studs on her next visit so the holes wouldn’t close up. Got a lot of blood on my hands when I attempted another one through my upper ear on the opposite side of where I already had the space occupied. Only one of them closed up and I had even more holes on my head. Nice . Staff noticed after a while and took the kit away from me, scolding me for a short two hours.

I got more when I left rehab, treating myself to a tongue piercing that I regretted immediately. I didn’t really think about the healing process and how many of my favorite foods that I missed so desperately would be off limits for me for a while . However, I wasn’t about to lose to the pain, so I stuck through it and kept the piercing. 

I got that undercut too, but it was more so small patches of a close shave on the sides of my head where the rest of my hair grew into a weird kind of mullet. I liked it, so I guess that’s all that matters. By that point too my red hair was all grown out and cut off, back to my natural color of brown. I had plans to redye once I settled at home, excited like a child would be. 

Rehab was rather uneventful honestly. Therapy, pills, exercise, food, one hour of TV per day, sleep. And Powder, of course.

What I came home to was my room, just as I left it, but filled to the brim with empty beer bottles and cans. The smell was putrid and made me wrinkle my nose, loudly exclaiming and dropping the bag I had in my hand. Powder laughed openly at me, and it was easy to deduce that this was her doing. She freely told me she did this right after I left, having already been saving my empty drinks for months before I landed myself in the hospital. Whether or not that ever happened, she was still going to throw this trash in my room, shame me into seeing the reality. But coming home to it after a year away was seeing it through a new lens. Sure, it would’ve stung if things had gone differently, but having dealt with withdrawals, differing medication, therapy, and Marge, it just made me sad. I expected to feel defensive, maybe angry at myself, yelling at the mess Powder made to an empty room, letting her hear it through the wall. But now, I was just sad. By now that phase of my life felt like eons ago, having worked out the knot in the rope until it laid flat again. I couldn’t even imagine drinking that much in just a few months, and I didn’t even remember how many I did drink in just one night. Truthfully, and naturally, I didn’t remember much from that period, and I honestly don’t care to. I don’t want to think about the part of me that tortured my sister and threatened my life. 

It was a new chapter.

And despite being home, I didn’t clean up the bottles and cans. Not for another few months. My process of growth and journey to sobriety wasn’t done, not at all, not even close. I spent many nights, evenings, afternoons, mornings, forcing myself to sit in that room and count the cans and bottles. Anytime I had a breakdown, a craving, I reminded myself of my mistakes to correct the urges. I put more of myself into my work and bought a punching bag for the basement. So, after counting as many cans as I could stand, when my anger at myself started to boil, I’d go downstairs and let out the frustration on the punching bag. Often, I wouldn’t even put wraps or gloves on, staining it with dark blood when I got too into it and didn’t realize. 

Exercise became my new and favorite coping mechanism.

My bag kept getting more and more worn down, but I refused to get a new one, as I now had a strong emotional and personal attachment to this one. 

And when I thought I was ready, we threw out the cans and bottles and invited friends over to welcome me back home from the Hell I created for myself and pulled myself out of in return. 

.

[end of TW]

.

“Vi!!”

I turned around from where I found a temporary safe spot at the bar with my sister. 

We had been chatting about phase one of the party and laughing (mostly Powder, mostly at me) about how insistent Cassandra was in tearing my past few years of living to pieces. It had been three hours of pure Hell. But then Powder spilled that she told Caitlyn about my little… misadventures, confirming my suspicions that she was the reason Caitlyn knew I had gone sober. 

I somewhat scolded her at first, the way friends do instead of how parents do. We were both adults now, my motherly side having been packed away in the back of the closet for a long time now. I shoved her shoulder slightly and frowned at her, irritated that she'd go divulging my own personal information like she knew what was best for me. But I got over myself rather quickly, as Powder was quite the master at distracting me, and I quite frankly had no room to be mad at her about my own shitty behavior. The loud music that killed my eardrums helped with that too. It was hard to have a conversation if you couldn’t even hear yourself think, not to mention drag queens in all kinds of feathers and sequences were wading around and teasing patrons, like they so often do. 

I love mean drag queens. 

In another life I surely was one. I never cared for fancy dress or makeup, but becoming someone new for a night and getting paid to dance around and be mean to customers? That sounds like my kind of gig. So yes, I always tipped a drag queen when she performed. Mad respect. Lord knows the heels alone would kill me after just a single night.

My drag persona probably wore cheap dirty flip flops.

Powder and I had turned to this very topic of conversation after a while. She was looking me over like she’d never seen me before and needed to size me up, trying to decide what my drag name would be. She came up with a few good ones that were puns that made me almost snort out my drink (water, obviously). I wasn’t sure how long we spent sitting there just having a laugh, our backs turned to the dancefloor for the majority of it. Though sometimes Powder would orient herself to look outward and people watch, knowing I’d swivel around to match so I could see who she was making fun of. She couldn’t dance herself that well but that never stopped her from being absolutely villainous to innocent clubbers who were none the wiser to her prying eyes.

A couple of times Caitlyn caught my glance. She was in the center of it all, like the whole crowd was revolving around her. She certainly did light up the room with those pearly whites of hers, especially when her grinning was so genuine . I was shameless in my watching every time her bouncing came into view. Her friends were laughing right along with her, sometimes taking her hand and twirling her or simply mouthing along to the song lyrics. A few times I saw a friend retrieve a few shot glasses of something orange-ish (Fireball no doubt). Caitlyn and three to four of her other friends would all down the shot on the count of three. She’d laugh at herself and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand as she steadily fell further back down into the inebriation that made her puke not too long ago. 

“ Jesus ,” Powder laughed loudly next to me after we watched the second shot disappear from the group's glasses. Though Cait was already quite drunk (even with the incident outside), she seemed to be taking it slow now, only taking the shots when offered with a respectable amount of time in between each one. “Guess she ain’t driving tonight.”

“Did she drive?” I asked, just on instinct as I guess I didn’t really know how Caitlyn had gotten to the restaurant. Europe was so small I just figured everyone walked everywhere.

“I think I heard her mention a car or something on the walk over. It’d still be parked at the restaurant if that’s the case,” Powder swigged her own drink, switching to a plain old soda after she found her sweet-tipsy spot, and didn’t want to push it. “Man, she is gonna have the most insane parking ticket…”

My sister chuckled again, her attention severed as she started to twirl the ice in her glass around and our topic of conversation slowly started to float in other directions, ending up facing the bar again. It was a little while before I heard my name called out behind me, cutting me off mid sentence in a story I was telling, turning on my swivel stool to see who it was. But I couldn’t spin fast enough, a hand coming to lay on my arm quickly instead, leaving me no choice but to look up and over my shoulder. 

“Vi! Here you are! We ‘aven’t seen you out dancin’ at all!”

Caitlyn leaned on my shoulder again, beaming, drunk, happy, let loose. She was putting most of her weight on me, popping her hip out as she was favoring that over properly standing. She was undoubtedly in a much better mood, her cheeks pleasantly flushed and a string of hair brushing over her nose every now and then.

“ Yeah , I’m not sure if you remember,” I politely laughed, ignoring how her hand burned on my shoulder, the sleeves of my jacket still over her arms. “I'm not much of a dancer.”

“ Ooh I remember ,” Caitlyn teased, then giggled to herself, like she told an inside joke only she understood. “ C’mon! Juss one dance? For old times sake?”

A million taunts and sarcastic words were in my mouth by the time she next blinked, but none were responses befitting a soon-to-be married woman. Sure, they’d work wonders on any single woman. But one wasn’t standing in front of me, was there? I tightly smiled as I thought of something else to say, some kind of nice way to turn her down so my sister couldn’t get any blackmail footage for future use. 

“Looks like your friends are missing you,” I said, pointing with my index finger past her on the hand still holding my glass. With my nod in their direction Caitlyn briefly turned to see that her friends were indeed trying to call her back over, shouting something that no one could understand over the noise.

Caitlyn groaned and scrunched her nose at me, and I’m sure it was dawning on her that my stubbornness hadn’t changed much since she last saw me. Eventually though, she relented with an irritated and exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back for a second. 

“ Fine ,” she grumbled. “Next time.”

She stated her final words like it was a fact and that made a grin break out onto my face, deciding it’d be alright to send her off with one more stupid joke.

“Planning on having another bachelorette party already, Cait?”

She snorted and stumbled on her heels a little as the curtains of her hair surrounded her face when she glanced down. Caitlyn just punched my shoulder weakly and made some noncommittal comment that I didn’t quite catch as she maneuvered her way back to her gaggle of girls with open arms. 

“ Wow ,” Powder scoffed her knowing look basically in my face as I watched the woman go.

“What?” I asked, offended simply by my sister’s mocking tone.

“She was soooo flirting with you.”

“What–” my face immediately flared up the color of my hair. “She was not! She’s drunk!”

“And you were flirting back .”

“I was not! Powder! Stop reading into every little thing,” I shouted. But she laughed at me, shrugging before finishing her soda.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to make yourself feel better.”

.

Maybe an hour passed, not more than that, before Caitlyn and her friends were finding my sister and I at the bar again. They were all giggling, some more gone than others, and all giving each other kisses as goodbyes. They lingered around us, not regarding us at first until a few of the women gave Powder and I awkward hugs as they expressed their joy in finally being able to meet us. We tried to politely say our farewells too, but the loud club still trumped our voices. The easily distracted and inebriated group had short attention spans anyways. Eventually it was just us two, Caitlyn, and Martha left hovering at the bar.

“You alright to get home, Caitlyn?” Martha asked, to which Caitlyn nodded and reassured her friend with little doubt. They hugged, and quickly Martha kissed her cheek and parted ways before we could say anything more. 

“You’re not driving, are you?” I asked Caitlyn, walking with her outside to get away from the noise as her party was swiftly coming to a close. 

“ No, no ,” Caitlyn shook her head, digging around in her purse before pulling out her phone. “I think I’m gonna try n' call a cab…”

I squinted at her as I watched her struggle to unlock her phone and properly read notifications on her screen. Despite the fact I knew she was a fully grown adult in her hometown, something in the back of my mind and deep within my gut didn’t enjoy the thought of Caitlyn making the trek back to her place drunk and alone.

I’d made that walk many times, and none of them were safe. Sometimes I was lucky to get home without incident, other times, I wasn’t as fortunate. And it wouldn’t be fair if something were to happen to Cait on the night before her wedding. 

So I did what I thought was right.

I snatched her phone right from her hand.

“Nope,” I said, definitive, cutting her off before she could complain. “We’ll take you back.”

“Vi, it’s really no–”

“ Ah – ah –” I stopped her again, much to her chagrin. “C’mon, let's head back to your car.”

“You won’t take no fur an answer, will you?” Caitlyn lowered her brow in a furrow of seriousness. 

“You already know the answer to that,” I smiled. Gingerly I maneuvered Caitlyn’s phone back into her purse that was slung over her shoulder, putting it away and safely out of harm's way. I indicated for her to follow along, hoping Powder or her would actually remember the way back to the restaurant. Because I sure didn’t. 

She groaned and puffed a piece of hair out of her face before she mumbled a reluctant agreement. Powder made no comment, a little out of it in her tipsy state, and enjoying the quiet peace in her head. That, and I was sure she was leaving Caitlyn and I to talk alone on purpose. The cheeky girl. But all too soon we were a trio of girls walking the late night London streets and it wasn’t long until Caitlyn started to use me for balance again. She was quick to start prattling on about nothing in particular, I guess feeling rather talkative about her last night of freedom. Powder chimed in with a few half present witty remarks that made Cait laugh a little too loudly. She continued on about things her friends did and said that I missed, how it was nice to go dancing again after so long, and how she was really regretting her choice in shoes for the night. Powder joked that I should give her a piggyback ride, much to my disapproval and flaming red cheeks, but luckily Caitlyn was too distracted by a broken and left behind necklace on the sidewalk from another supposed party-goer. 

Eventually the girls led us successfully back to Caitlyn’s car, though I was sure we had to have walked in a few circles at times. My sense of direction was alright, but I think it was fair to argue that my mind was a bit preoccupied. I don’t know what kind of car it was other than the fact that it was small, lightly colored, and impeccably clean. She fumbled around in her purse for a moment before finding the keys and plopping them into my open palm. With that, getting her to lay down in the backseat was an easy enough venture. Powder climbed into the driver's seat on accident, forgetting the whole ‘they drive on the other side of the road’ thing, and she laughed at herself, a drunken Caitlyn joining in with a snort. Correcting that little mistake, I sparked the car to life and sent out a silent prayer that I would quickly get used to the opposite feeling that was making my very sober self feel like I wasn’t. I sucked in a large breath, held it, then looked back at Cait in the rearview mirror. 

“Hey Pow, hand her this so she can type in her address.”

I gave my phone to my sister, who followed my instructions sloppily, nearly dropping the phone under the seat as she passed it back. And when Caitlyn took ahold of it, she squinted at the screen as she typed, but then she whined.

“You've got no ssservice!” she complained, then flung her hand out to return the phone.

“ Fuck ,” I cursed, looking over the device myself. “ Must’ve run out of data… ”

“Well hey , issa–kay ‘cause I can jus’ give you directions–!”

Caitlyn’s voice was uplifting and joyful, a bit goofy, and she kept biting her lip when she laughed. I couldn’t help but get a little star struck each time I saw her do that, but I was doing my damnedest to keep myself focused. I looked at the woman again in the mirror before resigning to just turning around to regard her. She was without a seatbelt as she had crammed her long limbs in with her as she laid on her back. Her arms were outstretched as she drew mindless patterns on her car ceiling (the part that dipped lower as it met the car window) with her long nails, and her lips were puckered with thought but also amusement from the silly sound she could make. 

“Think you’re up for that, Cait?” I asked, doubtful that she wouldn’t fall asleep during the ride.

“ Awww ‘ave some faith, Vi!” she giggled as her nose scrunched up, but she continued to mess with the short fuzzy material that made up the interior. 

“Just saying,” I chuckled. “If we get lost and you end up sleeping in your car for the night, it’s not my fault.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, sure ,” she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at me, finally glancing over to look at me before I turned around and put the car in reverse.

.

When we finally rolled up to her apartment complex, the first thing that came to mind was ‘how would her fiancée   feel about two strange girls bringing her partner home drunk?’

But we both quickly found out that wasn’t going to be an issue.

Caitlyn had never moved out of her one bedroom apartment, we learned. Though most of her belongings were now in Victoria’s home (which I’m assuming they basically called their own), it was clear at least someone indeed lived in Caitlyn’s apartment. Dishes in the sink, unfolded blankets on the couch, pictures on the walls. Caitlyn’s own little hideaway– her grasping at the straws of her old life. I tried not to think too much about why the pair hadn’t made that part of their relationship official before tying the knot. I didn’t know anything about their situation, and it didn’t necessarily mean anything that Caitlyn decided to keep a separate residence. Or at least that’s what I was repeating to myself so my imagination wouldn’t get the better of me.

Neither of us commented on it as we both held her hand while walking up the stairs. She hadn’t thought of taking her shoes off, because she either didn’t want to get her feet dirty, or because she simply forgot that was an option, we weren’t sure. But Caitlyn eventually managed to gracefully stumble through her apartment door and towards her room. Powder left us then, saying she’d be right back, off to do god-knows-what. I couldn’t forewarn her to remain polite while in someone else's home, because Caitlyn nearly fell at Powder’s sudden departure. 

She led me to her bedroom where she promptly fell face first into the bed, like I often did, and that similarity almost made me smile. Her feet stood dangling off the edge, and I took the liberty of freeing them from their heeled prison, setting them against the wall and by the door. 

“C’mon,” I tapped her calf a few times, urging her not to fall asleep just yet. “You wanna get changed for bed?”

She groaned at me, seemingly already comfortable and unwilling to move. Man I’d been there. I was about ready to ask her again until she managed out a reluctant ‘yes’ muffled by her comforter.

“You wanna get them or shall I?”

It felt pertinent I asked before rifling around in her dresser. Just good manners. No matter how her mother tried to claim I didn’t have any, when it came to the women of my life, I was first and foremost a gentleman. She couldn’t say that wasn’t true, I was damn sure of it. But Caitlyn only grumbled again, and I took that as enough of an answer instead of prompting her over and over again.

On habit I crouched to open the bottom drawer, where I always knew she used to keep her pajama sets (I always thought it was adorable she insisted on owning sets of designated pjs while I just wore an old raggedy tee shirt). I was actually surprised to find that she still stored them there. But I brushed it away, grabbing the first set on top. A pink, satin pair of pants and a tank top. They hadn’t pilled in the slightest, and looked almost brand new, but I knew that was simply due to Caitlyn’s obsessive nature in keeping all of her things nicely taken care of. I plopped them down next to her and told her I’d wait outside, to which she finally opened back up her eyes to see what selection I made. She yawned and made some sort of positive noise, signaling me to go.

While I waited outside her closed door, the silence of the place ate away at me. I didn’t usually enjoy quiet places. I was too in danger of letting my mind wander, which was getting increasingly easier these days. Powder couldn’t even be heard fussing with things in the distance, which I found suspicious. But before I could wander off myself to go find my sister, I heard Caitlyn faintly yell ‘okay!’ from inside her room, and I pushed my way back inside.

I found her prone again on her bed, funnily squirming her way under her comforter this time and letting out a sigh of relief as she relaxed against her pillows. Cautiously I reentered, thinking to myself about the other things I thought I could recall being a part of her nighttime routine. It dawned on me then that she was still wearing makeup, and I padded quietly over to her nightstand.

I sat down next to her, careful as to try and not disturb her. She was tucked all cozy in her covers, her arms and shoulders gone underneath them and a small, content smile on her at ease face. She watched me with a focused stare as I fiddled with a number of different things, trying to quickly sift through the products I found on her nightstand, and feeling victorious when I spotted a pack of makeup wipes. I turned to her, finally getting a good look at how comfortable and happy she seemed, and it made my heart ache. Good and bad. Primarily good in that moment, just so pleased to see the woman I reluctantly cared for in a good place. All I ever wanted was her happiness, and anytime I saw her getting what she so rightfully deserved, it made me feel like maybe everything was going to be okay.

“Let’s get your makeup off now, okay?” I said, keeping my voice low and soft so as to not disrupt the peace of the air in the room. She nodded at me and made some kind of affirmative noise before closing her eyes.

As gently as I could, I pressed the cold wipe to her eyelid, moving to get rid of her eye shadow first. She never wore too much makeup, so this wouldn’t be too hard of a task, but nonetheless I kept my focus lasered in and steady, never severed. Caitlyn remained still and quiet as I worked over both eyes, successfully removing her eye shadow and eye liner. I scrubbed a little bit along her lashes to try and get some of that mascara out, but I didn’t push too hard, worried about irritating her eye. It was good enough for a night's sleep. 

Next I took a clean part of the wipe and readied to wipe down her lips. 

“Eyes are done,” I kept her informed. “Gonna get your lips now, alright?”

When she looked up at me I had to remind myself to breathe, disalarmed at how disarming her gaze was in that moment. I felt stupid for ever actually forgetting. How many times would I have to fall into her intense eyes to fully remember how powerful they were? Her actually being able to watch me take care of her like this was intimately familiar, and I wrinkled my brow in an attempt to stay focused on the task at hand. Pushing away arising feelings of times I had done this in the past and vice versa was harder than I thought, but I fought fiercely to stay in the moment and not allow dead (or so I told myself) feelings to arise. 

Caitlyn kept her face neutral as I worked, but as she watched me diligently remove her lipstick, her lips started to turn into a subtle smile. I was happy to stop staring at her lips, for obvious reasons, as just looking at them did something to me. It made me feel pathetic, but again, I pressed it down as best as I could.

I finally got a new wipe to finish up removing her foundation, which was nothing more than what looked like a tinted moisturizer and a bit of filler for her eyebrows. But when I started to softly wipe her cheeks clean, she started to talk. 

“ ‘M really glad you came… ” she whispered, and those words stopped me in my tracks.

“You… are?” I dared to ask, my words hardly making it out of my mouth. 

“Yeah…I mean it,” she clarified. “Is really, really nice tah see you agann.”

My breath shuddered as I exhaled from my nose. I made nervous eye contact before I had to look away, trying to regain my footing from her sudden admission. Her emotions were certainly on a roller coaster tonight, dragging me along with her. I had half the mind to be irritated at her for forcing me to feel all these things as she acted so curiously around me. One moment she was mad and screaming at me, another ignoring me, then one more begging me to dance. I had no clue what this woman was thinking, how she was truly feeling, if anything had been a lie, and I really didn’t know what to make of it. It felt almost as if she was playing football with my heart, just kicking the ball over and over again at the net for it to only hit the goal post and bounce back in her direction for her to kick once more. A twisted cycle, and I couldn’t organize a single thought for the life of me. 

“Well… that’s…” I tried, but cleared my throat and started over. “I’m glad to hear it… since y’know… you didn’t seem very thrilled at the beginning.”

Caitlyn groaned dramatically at herself, suddenly pulling the covers up over her face, interrupting my work. My hand hovered awkwardly there as she hid for a few seconds in what looked like embarrassment. She didn’t stay under there forever, thankfully, as I guess she was still feeling childishly playful like she often did when she was wasted. Her hands covered her eyes for a second more which then was followed by another grumble before I finally was able to get back to cleaning her cheeks of tint. 

“ Aaughh ’m so stupid,” she giggled and chastised herself, looking at the ceiling, like she couldn’t bear to look at me for the time being. “I was juss so shocked. I really didn’ espect to see you there… I wasn’… mentally prepared yet, I s’ppose…”

“You didn’t…” I paused, moving to start cleaning her chin. “You didn’t invite us…?”

I asked the question cautiously, but I desperately wanted an answer. Ever since our little spat and her surprised expression earlier that night, I was indeed confused myself. She acted like she had no clue we were going to be there, even though I was clearly under the impression she was the one who invited us there in the first place. Which left a mystery in its wake. Because if she didn’t invite us, who did? It was her party, she made the guest list, I could only assume. So who on Earth would want to catch her (and me, for a matter of fact) off guard like that? What kind of sick joke was it? What could there have been to benefit? Too many questions, and not enough answers. 

Caitlyn shook her head, finally looking at me again. “I fffought about it… but… I was worried maybe it wss too much…” Her hands emerged from under the blankets, going to rest on her lap in the free air as her fingers started to fidget and pick at the dead skin around her nails. “I figured gettin’ my wedding invite would be shockin’ ‘nough… I didn’ wanna… y’know…”

I watched her shrug as she was carefully eyeing her own hands now, only having the strength to make eye contact with me for a passing moment. I was grateful to be honest, because I had much less strength than her in that regard, trying my best to absorb myself in my duty of cleaning her face. Scrubbing the wipe softly through her eyebrows, I was near the finish line. When I was confident I got all the product out, I took the trash I made and tossed it into the nearby bin in the corner. My brain neverminded her last comment, unable to come up with something proper to say in response.

“Alright, all nice and clean now,” I said, grabbing a little bottle that I hoped was moisturizer. Certainly looked like it, certainly smelled like it. But the label was so vague as to what it actually was. All I could see was that it was for all skin types and some hard to pronounce ingredients. Either way, Caitlyn watched me and didn’t stop me as I unscrewed the cap. The logical part of my brain reasoned that Caitlyn could probably do all this herself, but the deprived part of me sickly thought… well… since I’ve already taken off her makeup for her, I might as well commit.

When I next touched her face, so gently that it was hard to tell if I was even touching her, she closed her eyes. I was convincing myself I was imagining Caitlyn leaning slightly into my fingertips, that I hallucinated a satisfied little hum as she was practically already asleep. Her drunken brain had removed her filter completely, and she didn’t know what she was doing, I tried to say to myself. If it had been Jayce taking care of her before her wedding night to make sure she gets a good night's sleep, she’d surely do the same, right? It wasn’t romantic in any way, was it? Even so, the thought of Jayce acting in my place still made me feel sick.

Softly I rubbed the white cream into her skin until it was all absorbed and her face had that fresh, shiny look you get when you just get out of the shower all clean and supple. A smile was still very prominent on her face, and it was only when I took my hand away that she opened her eyes again to watch me screw on the moisturizer cap. I almost felt like I was taking care of an elderly grandparent, or a sick child, instead of a drunk person. But they all three were essentially the same, right?

Poor motor functions, bad coordination, memory issues, and sometimes you piss yourself.

Powder chose that moment to come barreling in, flooding the dark room with light from where she entered: the living room. In her hand she had a few bottles, presumably from Cait’s bathroom medicine cabinet. I made a mental note to apologize to sober Caitlyn for the snooping my sister most definitely did when she had the chance. Caitlyn winced and whined at the bright light, the door facing the foot of the bed and directly hitting her sensitive eyes that had since adjusted to the dark room. On instinct, I scooted and leaned a bit in a way to block the light from her face, and her sigh of relief was the only indicator to myself that I had even done that good deed for her as well.

“Looks like you got the whole kit n’ caboodle here,” Powder said, coming to stand next to where I was sitting on her bed. “Aspirin, iBuprofen, Advil, Pepto Bismol…”

She listed the different meds to help Caitlyn with the inevitable hangover she was sure to experience the following morning and sat them down when she was done. Powder took the liberty of dragging over the small trash can from the corner next to the bed and sat a glass of water down for her that I failed to see until then she had also grabbed.

“ Wow , so kind of you, Pow,” I teased in a low, soft voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Fuck off,” she responded tiredly, repressing a yawn. “I’m gonna get a cab, don’t take too long.”

She slapped my shoulder half assed-ly as she left the room, closing the offending door behind her. Not too long after I heard the sound of the front door open and close too, still I was yet to move from my post. Quickly, I ran over a mental checklist of things she could need, and one last little detail came to mind.

“Here, let’s plug your phone in and make sure you got your alarms set,” I gestured my hand for her to give me her phone, which was still safe in her purse that haphazardly landed next to her in bed. I watched her grumble as she dug around to find it, then slapped it in my open palm. “Open it for me first?”

“You know the password,” Caitlyn spoke through a yawn, like it was no big deal, starting to cuddle down deeper and deeper.

“I– I do?” I stuttered aloud but got no more of a response than a quiet hum as I realized what she meant. She hadn’t changed her password in all this time. We used to know each other's passwords, if we could remember, as we kept all our important login info in the same shared google doc. It was a bit stunning, if I’m honest, thinking surely, she would’ve used a new password with the (I’m sure) countless phones she’s had since our breakup. But she decided to keep it.

Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it.

Except…

It was hard not to when the password was 516-516. A funny little numerical code for my name that Caitlyn came up with. Or she read it somewhere. Either way. It matched how you spell the number 6 in roman numerals.

V for five.

I for one.

VI for six.

And cutely enough, I had the roman numeral tattooed under my cheek for about a year or two before Caitlyn and I even met.

Perhaps it was just easy to remember. Just three numbers twice. Simple, right? 

I forced my mind away as I typed it in and maneuvered my way to her clock app and looked at her many (labeled) alarms. I noticed there wasn’t one created for waking up on the morning of her wedding yet, so I just decided to make a new one.

“When do you wanna get up?”

“Mmmmm,” Caitlyn shifted around, mumbling with her mouth closed as she thought aloud. Her eyes opened slightly and stared dazed at the ceiling for a bit, then she got comfortable on her side, facing me, bringing the blankets up over her shoulders. “Seven.”

“Still an early bird, huh?” I said softly, the tease just coming out from habit. It was too easy to joke and flirt with her, especially with all the history there. I was falling back into old habits that now are very much classified as bad habits. But before I could psych myself out, I heard Caitlyn huff out some laughter.

“You remembered every little detail about me, huh?”

I set the alarm and looked down at her just as she finished the sentence. She was looking up at me, a conniving smile tightly wound like she was waiting for me to blush and get defensive. Pulling my leg, making me embarrassed. She was still so good at it. 

And I did blush, almost choked too, but I managed to quickly ‘save’ myself.

“Only because it seems like you still have me memorized too,” I chuckled lightly. “Still remember just how to push my buttons.”

I really shouldn’t have, but I ended that sentiment by poking her forehead. It made my fingertip tingle, remembering itself how it felt when I was cleaning up Caitlyn’s face just moments earlier, and how I used to be allowed to caress her cheeks whenever I wanted. I think I was subconsciously and selfishly trying to get as much of that touch as I appropriately could before it was lost to me forever. And she laughed, a bit louder this time in her chest, and she waved at my hand, too slow to have actually gotten to smack it. 

“Hey, stop it!” she giggled, hair falling in her face that she tried to blow away. “Is that so bad?” Caitlyn asked me, referring to my last point. “Some things are just hard to forget– like how you like your coffee black but sometimes with sugar.”

“When I’m feeling spicy,” I joked, and her nose wrinkled in a large smile.

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “Or how you’d always want to get a dog even though you’re allergic.”

“A tragedy,” I sighed dramatically, again winning a grin from Caitlyn as my prize. I couldn’t help but play along to her fun banter, my heart absolutely swelling with the confirmation that she remembered. She kept that stupid information up in that head of hers when she knew she didn’t have to. When she could’ve gotten rid of it to save space for more important things. But she held onto them. Whether or not she tried to forget at some point but couldn’t, or she simply wouldn’t forget, that was up for debate. But either way I was falling further down the hole that led to nowhere but Caitlyn Kiramman. Her blue eyes, her rosy cheeks, pearly teeth, silky hair, sweet personality… helplessly prone, I couldn’t stop myself from indulging in the warm feeling in my heart that she had suddenly and miraculously kickstarted again after years of being still. 

“And how you’d always forget to wrap your hands at the gym, so you’d bust up your knuckles too much, despite all the times I reminded you,” she rolled her eyes at me, but with no real venom in her words, a playful smile still so plain on her expression. 

“It’s not fun unless you spill a little blood!” I sillily defended myself, trying to mask a laugh, yet she didn’t try to hide hers at all. 

“It wasn’t fun watching you hurt yourself, you twat!” this time her laugh was whole bodied. “I mean, look!” Suddenly, without my expecting it, she grabbed my hand and held it close to her face, as if to inspect it. “I can still see all the scar tissue– and by the looks of it, after all this time you still don’t take my advice. They’re so much more beaten up than I remember! Did you fight a bear or something?”

Caitlyn was making herself laugh now, rubbing her thumbs over my knuckles before she looked to me for a response. I was a little stagnant, startled by the sudden contact, and how she wasn’t letting go. In fact, she almost seemed to squeeze my hand with both of hers.

“Maybe just a few,” I barely managed to get that little quip out, almost missing my chance to smoothly volleyball back in our little fake spat. 

In lieu of a jest back, she merely stared at me, softly smiling, feeling my roughed up, worn hand in her perfect, smooth ones. And just like that for a moment she really looked at me, really looked, like she hadn’t had a chance all evening. But she tore her eyes away soon enough, before I could say anything stupid and ruin the moment. She focused back on my hand, still letting her thumbs examine the bumps and scars aplenty there. 

“I remember when you’d come home with your hands all busted up and I’d clean them for you so you wouldn’t get an infection…” she said, fondly, quieter, almost like she was talking to herself. So I didn’t dare interrupt her, staying frozen in my spot, oh-so curious about where her memories had taken her. “And when I’d get them all wrapped up, you’d ask if I could ‘kiss them better’ in that ridiculous , childish voice you use on me.” She giggled softly, more so as a flash of teeth than any kind of sound. “And those puppy eyes, ugh, I just hate how well those work on me.”

Caitlyn paused, her bottom lip disappearing for a moment as it coincided with the thoughts churning around in her still drug swarmed mind. She looked as if she was considering something, but then remembered something kind, something reassuring, and something sweet. I wanted nothing more in that moment to ask her what it was, what she was thinking about, but I never got the opportunity, nor was I ever able to summon the courage.

Even if I did, even if I could, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Caitlyn chose that exact moment to bring my knuckles to her lips, softly and kindly pressing a lingering kiss to my skin, setting it positively ablaze. And it seemed to linger, like time itself had slowed down and I was seeing the world through slow-motion. I could feel her lips smile against my skin, see as she closed her eyes and her eyelashes touched her cheeks, and hear how she inhaled with her nose against the top of my hand. She held me close for a while, pulling back to once again look fondly at my hand before she tightened her grip for a moment, then ultimately let go as her eyes found mine again. Nearly closed, she looked wrecked and exhausted, but utterly content. She yawned in my awe-struck face, still unable to move, and she muttered one more thing to me while she got fully comfortable to sleep and completely close her eyes.

“Thanks…”

.

I don’t know how long I had to have been sitting there, staring at her as she fell quickly asleep. Long enough, surely, that it was creepy. But I didn’t mean it to be. Her memory and sharing of such about our past life was shocking enough, but to kiss me? On the night before her fucking wedding?

Sure, just a kiss on my knuckle, but a kiss nonetheless. She wouldn’t do that with Jayce. No way. But for some godforsaken reason, she decided to do so with her ex-girlfriend , alone, while she was taking care of her, and making sure she got to bed alright. That was intimate. That was some romantic comedy bullshit. I had seen enough crappy movies with Powder to recognize it a mile away. And perhaps maybe that’s all it was. Maybe in Caitlyn’s head, that was still fucked up on whiskey (lest you forget), she was just romanticizing the past, remembering it in a way someone would before saying goodbye. Maybe that was her closure. The kind we never got. We never did say goodbye to one another. We had our fight and that was it.

Maybe… just maybe this was her finally saying goodbye.

It made my heart giddy but sad at the same time, and it twisted something in my chest that I couldn’t place. A suffocating feeling, the same one I had when I first came home to find all of Caitlyn’s things gone. It was immobilizing. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to be upset at her for it or pass out with the amount of blood rapidly passing through my heart. 

A text from Powder startled me awake from my trance, but luckily spared Caitlyn as she had peacefully and finally drifted off. I jumped slightly, then fished the phone from my pocket to read:

Powder (11:56pm)  

Cab guy says he’s gonna charge an extra 10 quid if you don’t get ur ass down here

Hurriedly I put my phone back away, opting not to respond and just get moving. But before I stood, I don’t know what compelled me, I took one more look to the raven-haired girl lying beside me. Breathing deeply, and her lips parted slightly. Without further thought, my brain finally fried from all the emotional exhaustion it could take in one evening, my hand moved. As softly as I could, and with just the tips of my fingers, I brushed some stray hair from her face, leaving it clear. But then I leaned forward, hesitated, and simply as if I was on autopilot, gently kissed her forehead.

I whispered, having realized I hadn’t said this yet, and as if I was saying my own goodbye:

“Congratulations.” 

Chapter Text

I knew Caitlyn had a grip on me, but I didn’t fully understand the magnitude of it until she invited me to her wedding. And I didn’t start to feel the effect and consequences of it until I saw her. Until I felt her lips on my skin again, however drunk she may have been, however innocent the gesture was. She completely swallowed my brain until she was every thought, every possibility, the only thing I wanted and didn’t want to see. Air was stuck leaving my throat, and the more I thought about her leaving my life for good, for her soon-to-be wife, the harder and harder it was getting to breathe. 

But it wasn’t her fault.

Wasn’t her fault I was still so deeply, terribly in love with her.

There wasn’t any denying it anymore.

Not after tonight.

I had been ignoring it for five-some years, but after all that’s transpired in the last 12 hours, I couldn’t avoid it. My stomach was in knots, I wanted to puke. I wanted to hold her hand; scream and cry when I remembered I couldn’t. I wanted to punch things knowing that come tomorrow she’d be lost to me forever. Though, I was sure she’d been lost to me for awhile. But this just solidified it. I wasn’t a homewrecker. Not really. Maybe I’m cocky and push peoples’ boundaries, but I wouldn’t ever go so far as to get someone involved in infidelity. I respect those promises people make to each other, as I once understood them. After a lifetime of hating love, hardly believing in it, and knowing I’d never make it under my own altar, it was hard not to be skeptical. But Caitlyn changed that in me. Not to mention many other amazing things. She made it possible for me to understand why people would ever want to exchange vows, why they’d dedicate themselves to each other, and make impossible promises. 

Marriage didn’t sound so silly when I looked at her.

But now I had to watch her make those promises to someone else. Someone I’d never even met, didn’t even know how she treated Caitlyn. How did I know she’s worthy enough of Caitlyn? God knows I’m not and I gave it my absolute everything… What does this woman do differently? How would she be able to take care of Caitlyn better than I could? Sure, I couldn’t give her a big fancy house or whatever material things she wanted, but I could give the entirety of myself to her in a heartbeat. No questions asked. 

Just remembering why I was in London was enough to make me want to cry.

I’d fall into my pit of deep harbored and long locked away love for the woman, only to recall the reality of the situation. That pit became full of all my worst fears, dark and never ending, suffocating and simply impossible to escape alive. 

I recognize this feeling. 

And it’s one I’ve fought off well since returning from rehab, but it hadn’t ever been this strong before, not since the initial breakup. 

And of course it’s not her fault.

Nothing was ever her fault.

How could it be?

I was the idiot.

Always was, always will be.

I fucked everything up.

.

On the cab ride back to our hotel room Powder dozed off and leaned her head on my shoulder. I tried not to move too much with the bumps of the road, not wanting to wake her until we had arrived. 

She didn’t know. As far as I knew Powder wasn’t a mind reader, but she also always somehow knew exactly what I was thinking. She couldn’t have known what just happened at Caitlyn’s bedside. Part of me wondered if even Caitlyn would remember in the morning. And I didn’t know what to do with this memory, this information all by myself. It felt unfair to keep everything all bottled up in my chest, but it’s not like I could go spouting my feelings everywhere, could I? There’s no place worse for a declaration of love besides a wedding– when you’re not in the wedding, let me clarify. 

The time to let go was approaching, and the feeling of closure I was chasing, what I told myself I was here for, felt more and more foreign. Further and further away. Out of my reach. And I didn’t even want it anymore. 

I knew what I wanted, but I knew I shouldn’t want it. 

I had to control myself, be a fucking adult and get my shit together. I had to keep myself together. That’s what I’ve been repeating this entire time. Don’t break. Don’t fall. Don’t feel. But that was an impossible task. Before gently shaking my sister awake I had to brush some stray tears I didn’t even realize had fallen down my face. They were silent, and I only recognized them when the chilly air hit my cheeks.

If Powder saw them, she said nothing. 

We went back to the hotel, up the elevator, and into our room without exchanging any words. She was quick to start shedding her dress shirt and pants for a more comfortable sleeping substitute. It was when she was struggling to find the neck hole of the tee shirt, her head completely covered in a faded dark red cotton, that I finally said something. My voice cracked when I first tried, so I coughed, cleared my throat, and spoke again.

“I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Huh?” Powder said, and I knew more so as clarification than a sign she didn’t hear me at all. “How come?”

“Just…” I tensed, and shrugged. “Need some air, I guess.”

My sister studied me, squinting and scrutinizing me in a way that made me think of our parents weirdly enough. I hated when she pulled that stunt on me, as the older sister, it felt a little demeaning. She looked almost offended and suspicious, again like she could read my mind, or even see into the future and recoil at my eventual bad decisions. Just by her face I could tell she was about to protest, clearly able to tell something was off with me. I never just ‘went for walks’ to her credit; usually it involved me damaging something that wasn’t mine by accident.

Sometimes I get a little tunnel vision.

Even though I knew she was about to advise me against a little late-night adventure, when she opened her mouth again, she said the opposite, leaving me stunned.

“Alright well, just keep your cell on,” she sighed, going to sit on one of the beds. “And keep me posted where you are so I know you didn’t get kidnapped or some shit.”

“Sure,” I smiled, but a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, and one clearly just for show. “I won’t be too long.”

And as I turned to leave, never really having left the threshold, Powder said nothing more.

.

“Another,” I mumbled, and surprisingly the man heard me. 

It was getting into the early morning hours, yet still it was dark outside.

During my walk, the more I heard the English accents around me, smelled things that reminded me of her perfume, or even saw a tall, raven haired woman, the more I wanted to collapse and let the sidewalk swallow me whole. I started counting cigarette butts again, to stay awake, but most importantly to distract myself.

But despite my best efforts, I found myself ashamedly barging into the nearest bar. Without even a second thought. Like I subconsciously decided already back in the cab. I didn’t even have time to be disappointed in myself, to reprimand myself. Something within me had stirred and woken up. Something about all that’s recently occurred willed a desire in me to erase it all that I couldn’t fight. And there was only one way I knew how to erase things, at least even if it was only temporary. 

I found a hole-in-the-wall place with a jukebox in the corner and old men laughing over low quality Jack Daniel’s knock-offs. I didn’t even hear myself order, surprised when I saw a shot placed in front of me. But before I even gave myself a chance to clear my head, to fight, to push through it, I stumbled, and took that shot without hesitation.

I didn’t even have the brain space to be surprised at how quickly and easily I fell back into this habit. Like I never took any time away, I was suddenly in the past, to before rehab, before the hospital, but after a beautiful woman broke my heart and left me out to dry.

I groaned and hissed and coughed at the liquor, but asked for more anyways. Tonight wasn’t a beer night, my old preferred way to get drunk. I didn’t have the time or energy to sit and wallow further and further into despair. I needed to forget, and I needed to forget now.  

So, shots.

I had three in a short period of time before ordering a fourth, despite the fact I could hardly speak and my eyelids were getting heavy. The bartender questioned me in a monotone voice, I’m sure no stranger to the depressed drunk who’s drinking at a dangerous pace. And with my history, God must’ve sent me that type of bartender as a small glimmer of a guardian angel. Because he leaned on the bar in front of me and had a doubtful look in his eye. I took offense to this. 

“You sure?” he had said.

“Yes-!” I yelled back, irritated and raising my voice. But it wasn’t nearly as loud as the rest of the drunkards flailing around and singing drinking songs.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at me and I scoffed.

“Look, I’m walkin’ n’ I have the money n’ I’m close by,” I slurred. “‘Mm nearby at the hotel over…” 

I paused and looked around before pointing. 

“There… or wait–” I swiveled on my stool, “--there. And ‘m walkin’ an’ I wanna ‘nother drink.”

The man sighed. “Fine.”

He poured me one more shot, a lighter pour than the others, before placing that and a small wooden bowl of peanuts in front of me.

“Eat something,” he said, stern and tired, before walking off to serve another customer.

“ You eat something ,” I grumbled under my breath before taking in a large gulp of air. 

I held my breath as I downed the fourth shot, it hitting me almost immediately.

I knew my tolerance had plummeted since going sober, but I hadn’t thought it was this low. Once upon a time I could down four shots back to back easily and chase them with a beer. I could remember the hoots and hollers from the group of strangers I had chosen to drink with that night. On my good ones anyways, I’d find people in need of a fun drinking buddy, fooling myself that if I was having fun then it wasn’t so depressing. I’d never see them again though, never exchanging information or bothering to learn anyone's names. We’d cheer each other on and slap each other's backs. If the bar had one, we’d play pool.

The salt on the peanuts had all but flaked away and sifted to the bottom of the bowl, making the first one I begrudgingly shoved in my mouth taste like cardboard. I swallowed it down but didn’t go for a second, instead favoring checking my phone. Hiding from the disappointment in myself, I excuse my lapse by keeping up my word and updating Powder on my whereabouts. Details excluded.

“Still out and about. I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.”

She sent me a thumbs up, signifying she was likely on the verge of sleep and it was all she could really muster. But at least she knew I was safe, and that peace of mind for my sister gave myself a sense of relief too. That even though I may have failed in one aspect, I wouldn’t break another promise. I couldn’t. 

With that message sent and my money quickly running dry, I swiveled around on my stool, thinking about how only a couple hours earlier I was in another bar. I had successfully avoided booze there, a cold glass of water with ice in my hand instead of a bottle. My sister and I were laughing, we were actually having a decent time just talking, despite the overly loud, cheesy music. I was able to completely dissolve the words Caitlyn had said to me earlier in the night by then. Her apology and her touch were enough to make my knees buckle, to make me melt into her frame and fall. With sickening ease I realized I was so quick to forgive her, even though I had decided that journey needed to start for my own well being. For my own sanity. However I knew I  was ready to forgive her before she even uttered her apology. And it made me think; about how desperate I was to actually forgive Caitlyn for the words she threw at me all those years ago. When we were standing in the kitchen, me in my nice, new shoes, and her fresh from the grocery store. Her hair was down and straight despite having been to work that day, and I reasoned she likely took it down in the car on the way to get some shopping done. Yet it remained so neat and tidy even though a knot of a bun had been giving her a headache all day. I had a headache then too, but for an entirely different reason. My brain had been overworked, tired, made of mush. 

My mind felt like mush in that bar that night too. I stared out onto the floor where in the center sat a pool table. A gaggle of friends played a game with one another, laughing loudly as someone made a terrible shot or someone came so close it was unbelievable that they missed. They all casually sipped through small red straws or the small opening in the top of a can. It looked fun. 

My muddled vision tried to follow along and keep score, silently rooting for the girl in the strappy pink tank top and jeans over her friend that stood a good six inches over her and had beads clacking in her braids as she swiveled around. What made the decision as to who I rooted for? I just saw the other girl first, her laugh penetrating the smog of general conversation and ruckus around me. After a while though, the group finished their game and left the bar, taking their exuberant, bright energy with them. Their presence was a quiet, brief relief, and now that they were gone, I decided it was time for another drink.

“Really knocking those back, huh?”

A man spoke beside me after I ordered, and I realized his general form had been sitting next to me all this time. I paid him no mind until now, now that he was addressing me directly. But his knowing look and smug little smile over his own cocktail only aided my irritation at the world around me more.

“What’s it to ya?” I said back loudly.

“Oh no, I know it’s none of my business,” the man put up one hand defensively, but was still smiling. “Just making an observation.”

I snorted, hastily taking the shot glass from the bartender directly instead of waiting for him to place it on the wood in front of me. Staring at it, I oriented my fingers’ grip and watched my fingerprints squish against the clear glass and liquid. 

“Yeah, well, next timm keep your observassons tuh yurself.”

The shot burned as it went down, like the rest of them did, but this one had a staying power in its flavor. As I had tilted my head back to take the drink, I kept it that way for a while, squinting my eyes closed and smacking my lips and tongue like that would get the taste out of my mouth. Eventually I groaned, feeling dizzy enough that if I kept leaning back like that I may just topple over with the easy pull of gravity. So I leaned forward, bracing an elbow against the wood of the bar again. When the bartender came to collect my empty glass I made a show of taking another peanut and shoving it in my mouth while retaining eye contact and a deadpan expression. He didn’t seem to care for my sarcasm, but I didn’t get to relish in my satisfaction of bugging him since someone decided to start talking again.

“What’s buggin’ you?” the man next to me spoke once more, downing the rest of his drink too. It looked like some kind of fancy mixed drink, something with too much sugar in it most likely, to drown out the poor taste of liquor. I always tried to avoid those. The sugar is what makes you puke. At least that’s what I was told.

(Might want to fact check that.)

When I leaned one way or the other it felt as if all the drink had settled around my brain, making it float and slosh around, hitting my skull and making it hard to see, hard to think properly. I wanted to ignore him, and usually I would have. I had made an attempt not even five minutes earlier, but the son of a bitch dared to ask me another question with the same answer. Surely I didn’t look as intimidating as I had hoped I did, visibly drunk and not much of a threat. 

“Wha’s it–” 

“I know. What’s it to me, huh?” he chuckled, and I wanted to smack that damn charming grin off his face. He was textbook handsome, someone girls would swoon at. Someone who swung his way anyways. And it suddenly dawned on me that maybe this guy was dense, and couldn’t deduce on his own that someone who looked like… me, clearly wasn’t going to be interested. 

And he probably just couldn’t take a fuckin’ hint either.

“Listen, pretty boy, if yur tryna get ‘n my pants–”

“Whoa! Whoa!” startled, he cut me off again with a nervous laugh. “No, no, I’m not trying anything like that–! I promise, gentleman's honor.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. 

“I’m serious! I’m taken anyways,” his voice was entirely too jovial and his smile kept persisting– it was getting seriously annoying. “I was just trying to be a good samaritan.”

“Really?” scoffing, I rested both elbows on the bar, side-eyeing him. 

“Really,” he nodded. “So I relent my caution and pride, daring my question once more: what’s got you goin’ for the Most Shots taken in Shortest Amount of Time world record?”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned, but he only nodded at me to encourage me to continue. 

But I mulled it over for a second, not so sure. 

A sticky substance covered the surface my hands laid on, and my fingernails were getting progressively dirtier the more I scraped at it and collected it against a crack in the wood. In a passing thought I wondered how frequently the bar was cleaned, then the thought passed to my first job at the bar the orphanage head ran also. Apparently he opened the bar first, and he lived downstairs. Flashes of a memory where he, I, and Powder all played cards at one of his tables played familiarly in the back of my mind as I tried to tether myself back down to the present. Not wanting to get too carried away, lost in the past, I forced myself to blink and stop the fidgeting with the mystery goop. It was a hard call whether or not I wanted to spill my guts out for the random guy in the random establishment I happened to stumble into that night. I hardly did that with Powder on a good day. But perhaps because he was a stranger, that was precisely why it felt easier. I’d never see the jackass again, God forbid.

So I figured, why the fuck not? And I shrugged.

“Mm ex that ’m still ‘n love wit is gettin’ married t‘morrow,” I said, almost as if rehearsed, but not looking in his direction. 

I could feel him breathe in the apprehension as he digested my admission, and grossly enough, he wasn’t silent as long as I wished he would’ve been.

“Fuck… yeah, that’s a tough one,” he sighed, mimicing my posture. 

“Yeah,” numbly, and with no real feeling, I mumbled back my response. It was a question as to whether or not he even heard me. 

“Quite the coincidence though.”

He sighed, looking up, almost wistfully, and his strange comment had me throwing a tired, angry, questioning look his way. I was sure he felt it burning into his skull.

“April is a popular wedding month after all,” he nostalgically spoke for a moment, like he too accidentally got caught in a memory for a moment. Finally, though, he then looked back at me, I guess ready to pour some clarification onto his previous statement. “My best friend is getting married tomorrow too.”  

“Well whoop-dee-doo fur d‘em.” I was clearly in no mood to hear about other people's lives and I took my gaze away again, tired of looking at his clean shaven face and too bright eyes full of naivete.

“Came over here to surprise ‘em actually. Originally I couldn’t find time to come because of work, and then, well, suddenly some…” he trailed off then waved his hand, dismissing what he surely knew wasn’t necessary information to share. “Either way, no one knows I’m coming. Except for the parents. I wanted to clear it with them at least… they’re a bit prickly– well– one of them is, anyways.”

My lack of words back I hoped communicated my disinterest, but maddening enough, I could still tell he was smiling at me. A beat or two passed before he flagged down the bartender and paid his tab, then out of nowhere slapped me on the back. Just like the friends who had been playing pool were doing. It shocked me, but my reflexes were too slow to register it in time to stop it from happening. 

“Thanks for the chat, but I should be going. Beauty sleep ‘n all.”

“Sure,” I grunted. 

“It was a pleasure, Vi.”

Spinning around on my stool wasn’t fast enough, and I think I gave myself whiplash in trying to track down the man who somehow knew my name. My eyes danced along the many patrons as panic swarmed my gut and I felt around to confirm my wallet was still in my pocket. It was. And pretty boy was nowhere to be seen. He had made a quick exit, and that combined with yet another mystery in this stupid city didn’t leave me feeling well. When my desperate glances around the room got me nowhere, my need to completely black out only multiplied tenfold. I faced the bartender again.

“Gimme ‘nother one,” I demanded, and he slung a cloth over his shoulder with another sigh.

“You eat any yet?” he nodded to the bowl of peanuts.

“You wached m’ eat one,” I bristled, yanking out my aforementioned and thankfully still there wallet to grab the last of my cash and throw it on the bar.

“Had any since then?”

My glare wasn’t enough to scare him, and my wadded up bills weren’t enough to persuade him, so in pure spite and aching want for more liquid poison I slapped my hand dramatically into the small bowl. Peanuts clattered around the bar surface, and a few on the floor, but a good chunk got caught in my fist as I raised it up to my mouth and shoved them in. Chewing, I kept my angry stare locked on the bartender as he rolled his eyes, mumbled something under his breath, and reached for the bottle of vodka behind him.

.

I longed for her.

I pathetically fell into the embrace of the darkness behind me. I was but a puppet who’d bend to her will, do whatever she asked, would work tirelessly to make her happy. Anything. I’d do anything. Fill a swimming pool with my tears or carry a boulder up a never ending mountain. I’d love her until my dying day, until we were old and grey, when she’d have more wrinkles than I could count. But I’d still hold her, be with her, love her, do anything for her. Nothing would stop that feeling. It was painfully apparent now. So painfully . Like a dagger in my chest, and twisted around just for good measure.

No matter how I tried to fill my body with liquid poison, force my brain to focus on staying alive , I couldn’t help but see her smiling at me. If I was bleeding out, I could focus only on her face. Feel how she used to play with my hair when she thought I was still asleep. How her breakfasts tasted. How she bit her lip when she was excited. What she smelled like when she used fancy perfume for special occasions. I can hear her humming to herself while she cleans, see how sore she is after coming back from the gym, how tired she is once she gets home from work. I’d always rub her shoulders, ‘cause she always had a knot there that just never went away. 

But she’s sand in my glass fingers; she’s slipping from my grasp faster than I can comprehend, so smoothly, so suddenly, and no matter how hard I try to catch what’s falling, glass is just too frictionless. 

At the end of the night, several drinks past my comfortable limit and a brief intermission to throw up in a public trash can, I found myself back where I started. Stumbling down the late London streets, Caitlyn on my mind, and her wedding tomorrow. No amount of booze distracted me for even a second, and the frustration was building to a point where I thought I’d lose it. Just pick a fight with a random guy at the bar. But I didn’t want to get arrested for disorderly conduct. Not tonight. Because no matter how badly I never wanted tomorrow to happen, I knew I couldn’t miss it. Otherwise I’d be staring at the clock at the hotel, wondering when the vows were said, when the rings were exchanged, when the couple sealed their love with a kiss in front of everyone they cherished. 

The thought that Caitlyn wanted me there pooled an ugly feeling in the bottom of my gut. I never figured out why. Didn’t think I ever would. Never got to the bottom of that bachelorette party invite either. But I disregarded it, all those details merely leaves in a hurricane. 

I wasn’t walking straight. I had gotten lost, confused, and my eyes were getting heavy. I yawned and tried my best. Despite my stumble in breaking my sobriety streak, I still wanted to make it back to the hotel. For myself. For Powder . I had promised her after all. And after I already broke it once I couldn’t do it again .

 “But just imagine if she– she could see you now–!”

For myself. For Powder. For Caitlyn .

She told me she was proud of me. Proud of me. Proud that I had picked myself back up off the floor. Perhaps that could’ve been seen as condescending, but that thought never even crossed my mind. Because Caitlyn isn’t like that. At least she didn’t used to be. I had to keep reminding myself that she could’ve changed in our time apart, but my gut kept telling me she was still the same amazing woman she had always been. Maybe some things are different, for the better, but who she is– what makes Caitlyn, Caitlyn— that was the same. She was a stubborn rock, and would never be swayed so easily. Not by anything. Not by anyone. She wanted what she wanted, and she’d go out and get it. A quality I admired and desperately tried to mimic. But I couldn’t do that now , could I?

What if…

What if Caitlyn did see me in the hospital? What would she have said? Would she smack me like Powder did? Or would she be eerily calm? Would she brush her fingers through my hair again? Help me adjust my pillow, just like she did when I caught the flu?

Would I have even ended up there in the first place if she was there?

A very good question that I was keen to ignore for the time being. 

I bumped my shoulder on a street lamp, the only one working in its area. Several others flickered, but ultimately stayed off. I grumbled in surprise, my feet less stable than I was aware of, but I found it hard to care. I was alone on those streets, not even a car driving by or the distant barking of a dog.

“Violet?” the softest voice I’d ever heard, and the softest hand crept up onto my shoulder. Comfortingly, familiarly, kindly. “Violet, are you alright?”

I startled, but my reaction time was so slow that I didn’t even have the forethought to put up my hands to defend myself from this potentially dangerous mugger. But when I turned, I was met with some of the most warm eyes I had ever seen. Not so bright like his daughters, but wise, crows feet in the corners purchased from lack of sleep and years of joyful smiles. 

“Mr. Kiramman?”

His smile deepened, and saddened, and he lightly patted my shoulder. I blinked, thinking this may be some kind of hallucination– I hadn’t had any since I was trying out different meds in rehab. But I knew our family was prone to them apparently. So I was convincing myself that's what this was. A trick of the light, my brain sloppily trying to find some source of familiarity in these foreign overseas roads. 

“Tobias,” he offered in return. “What are you doing out here so late?”

It was more than a second that passed before I was able to fully register his question, and I shook my head as if to wake myself up. I groaned at the preemptive headache from the motion, then scratched my scalp.

“Ah…” I was trying to think. “Juss... went out exploring.”

“You certainly smell like it.” Caitlyn had inherited Tobais’ wit and perception for sure, but he seemed to also have a proclivity to sarcasm as I’m sure it was all but too clear where I had spent the last few hours with my spinning mind, stumbling feet, and smelly breath/jacket (I spilled some of one of my shots on myself, that’s when I was cut off).

My face soured in an expression of shame in being caught, and I glanced down to my hands where I was fidgeting with my own fingernails and picking at the skin around them. 

“Aren’t you sober?”

Tobais was certainly asking one too many questions for my liking, but because he asked that one specifically, that feeling passed me by completely. Curiosity and alarm won.

“How do you–?”

“ Violet ,” he interrupted me, but he had such a serious dad face all of a sudden that I didn’t dare fight back. It was odd. He wasn’t my dad, but he was a dad. And Caitlyn’s dad at that. I had been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to, and for some reason I felt meek in the gaze of a parent, as if I’m being scolded. He seemed to see this in my eyes, and he softened his approach. 

“Would you like to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Chapter Text

We found a bench.

I stumbled as I sat down, feeling the cold frost against my thighs and shivering visibly as puffs of warm air cascaded from my mouth. Tobias followed, but was steady, calm, unaffected by the freezing, light wind. 

I didn’t know where to start, I didn’t even know if I wanted to start. Never mind the mystery as to how Tobias found me out here, why was he speaking like he knew something I didn’t? I almost wanted to be irritated at it but couldn’t conjure up the energy nor the real care to do so. It wasn’t important. Not now, anyways. Nothing felt that important anymore, no matter how dramatic that sounds. When the sun came to rise in the morning, my life felt like it would simply be over . Coming to terms with my feelings and finally discarding my denial left a giant hole in my chest; a hole that had indeed been there since Caitlyn first left. 

“What are you thinking about, Violet?” He gently spoke to me. We were both leaning back into the bench and staring forward. His hands were neatly folded in his lap while mine dangled in between my man-spread legs.

And the alcohol still so prevalent in my system left it impossible to stop myself before spouting out the first thing that came to mind. It aided my candor to a concerning degree.

“Caitlyn,” I answered plainly, and he hummed.

“Hmm.”

Then there was a pause, the duration of which was skewed for my drug addled brain. Could’ve been ten seconds, could’ve been ten minutes. I wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

I was starting to get sleepy despite the frigid air. My eyes were beginning to droop, but what Tobias had to say next forced them back open way too quickly.

“I should apologize to you, Violet,” he said. “I should have a long time ago.”

[ I had never seen a door so large, so ornate. Well, I had, but it was this same door. The front one to Caitlyn’s parent's estate. They lived a cool two-hour drive away, but I made the trek, emptying my tank and wallet to make it. But I didn’t care about that, my mind didn’t have the capacity to care. My underarms were already slicked in nervous sweat and my hair was standing up at odd angles despite my best attempts to calm it down. I wanted to look nice. 

I did my best.

On that large front door, I knocked after gulping down a breath like it’d be my last one until I got back outside. The Kiramman estate did often feel suffocating, not an unfamiliar feeling. However, this time I was alone. Caitlyn didn’t come with me; in fact, she didn’t even know I was here. I made sure to make the trip on a day I knew she’d be working. Did it feel shitty to sneak off without her? Yeah, somewhat. Only somewhat because of the reason for my visit though. She couldn’t very well be here for this.

One of the many workers inside the house answered the door, escorted me into the living room, and announced my presence to the couple. They hadn’t been expecting me, and that was evident to see on their faces. It appeared they had been enjoying an afternoon of silence and good reading, a book in Cassandra’s hands and a newspaper in Tobias’ lap. They both sat them down and Tobias stood to greet me from where he was sitting across from his wife.

“Violet,” he said, reaching to shake my hand. “What brings you here on such a fine day?”

I gulped as he gestured for me to sit where he had been just moments ago. He retook a seat just as I did in the second armchair across from the couch. The leathery, forest green couch with cold, gold trim. It groaned as I sat down, trying to sit straight and remembering to keep my legs closed. Caitlyn had pointed out my tendency to manspread at what some might consider inappropriate times.

“Yes,” Cassandra followed up, smiling, but her voice contrasting, a little more pointed. “And without Caitlyn?”

Her words had an undertone of annoyance, but it wasn’t something I wasn’t expecting. After the few dinners Caitlyn and I had shared here, I was able to understand exactly what kind of woman Cassandra Kiramman was. 

A lady, first and foremost, who provided for her family. She ran the home, made the money, taught her child in the eyes of proper society, and above all else, cherished her own and her family’s pride and public image. So I can only imagine what thoughts were swirling up in her head when Caitlyn brought me home for the first time. Her mother was less than thrilled, to say the least. But over the years, she tolerated me, and I tolerated her in return. Despite the tension, she was still Caitlyn’s mother, whom she indeed had a strong connection with. It was important that we got along, and that meant it was important to me too.

“Sorry to disrupt your afternoon, coming here without warning ‘n all…” I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck with nerves. “I just uh… wanted to run something past you guys.”

“Oh?” Tobias lifted a brow and nodded to something I had clenched in my hands. “Could it possibly have anything to do with that mysterious envelope you have there?”

His little humorous tone was greatly appreciated by me, and I let out a soft puff of laughter, also looking down to the large envelope I had with me. Simply, I leaned across the coffee table and handed it to him. 

“It does,” I confirmed. “Just a couple of things to prove my worth, I suppose.”

“Your worth? ” Cassandra eyed me curiously and was quick to lean to Tobias’ shoulder to get a good look at the documents he was pulling out.

I rubbed my hands together, briefly bobbed my leg up and down, and let out a large shaky breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect to be this nervous,” a small smile cracked my lips in an attempt to make light of the anxiety in my chest. “But I guess I’ll just get right to it.” ]

It took me more than a moment to wake my brain up enough to respond, leaving him and his words alone in the silence for a bit. 

“...What?” My brow lowered in confusion, my mind having a hard time keeping up. He answered my question though in a few words; just enough for me to be able to understand. No one outside the three of us that were there would know what he was referring to. 

“For that day,” he sighed. “Back then. We reacted poorly, and we hurt the both of you.”

I had whipped my head to stare at Tobias’ profile, which lowered by the end of his sentence to gaze upon his shoes. He was still, only his chest quietly rising and falling with his breath. And even without seeing them, I knew melancholy lived in his eyes, ever the most sincere man. 

[ My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure they heard it as it fought against my lungs and the ribs that caged them in. I needed to stop tiptoeing around it and just take the leap. ]

“Well–” I tried. It was easy for me to blame myself, harder for me to accept something from someone else. In all the hubbub I didn’t ever think to be angry at Caitlyn’s parents. I was more than acquainted with people like them having the reaction they did, but Cait’s curious actions were what stung the most. It only occurred to me now that perhaps Tobias had been blaming himself all these years. “It… It wasn’t your fault it ended… not really . There was…”

“I know,” Tobias softly interrupted me when my pause lasted longer than I meant it too. Words were coming to me slowly, leaving me with the predicament of wanting to sound put together, but being nothing of the sort. “Perhaps it ended because Caitlyn decided to keep something from you. Perhaps not. Either way… we should not have treated you that way.”

He finally looked to me, sad eyes meeting sad eyes, and then he dropped the gaze to his hands where he lovingly took ahold of one of mine with both of his. 

“It has been a long and winding journey, but Cassandra and I have made a real effort to understand. To learn. Cassandra… still has a little bit of trouble every now and then. Her own mother wasn’t exactly the best example in that regard,” he sighed out a large breath. “But we saw how our negative reaction hurt Caitlyn, and ultimately we knew as parents… we had failed her .”

I didn’t respond, letting him speak.

“When you have a child, you agree to take care of them, to protect them, support them… but also to learn from them. Children give us a chance to be better than who we’ve been, and Caitlyn blessed us with that. Because of her, my wife and I have grown as people… and ever since that day… I couldn’t help but feel terribly…”

Tobias squeezed his eyes closed briefly.

“I still remember the look on your face, how much hurt Cassandra’s yelling did…

[ “Stop this! This– this debauchery –!” ]

…How my silence was no better... 

[ “Cassandra–” ]

I saw your heart break, and by extension, my daughters too. We handled it wrong, and I don’t want forgiveness– I want this guilt, this lesson to remain with me so it can continue to guide me in the correct direction. To continue to help me learn…

[ “No, Tobias! I will not stand for this! Not my daughter!” ]

…But you didn’t deserve what happened. And I selfishly just wanted to tell you… that I’m sorry. ”

I was speechless, utterly without words. His genuine apology, so eloquently worded, as if he had been practicing it every day for years. The firm hold he had on my hands grounded me in the best way, and I felt a fatherly love pouring from his palms and warming me up. I didn’t even notice that tears had begun to form on my waterline. I still couldn’t move when he regained eye contact.

[ “Reason I’m here is I wanted to um... To ask permission from the both of you uh–” I couldn’t stop stuttering, and their gazes were glued to me like a hot spotlight. They were expectant, confused, maybe even a little worried. ]

“I would have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law, Violet.”

[ “...To ask permission to ask Caitlyn to marry me.” ]

…

I had spat it out, maybe not eloquently, but I did it. It was out there. And the parents were frozen for longer than I expected them to be, settling a pit of doubt deep in my stomach. Tobias was the first to make a sound, though just a pathetic sound of air escaping his lungs in a ‘huh’ type of statement. But he continued.

“You–”

He paused again, leaving his mouth open as if he couldn’t find the words. I had figured they’d be surprised, but what I didn’t see coming was how pale their faces got. Like sheets of paper.

“Mr. Kiramman, please, before you say anything,” I leaned forward some, a seriously nervous yet terribly sincere tone lacing my words. “I-I know Caitlyn can make her own independent decisions, and that this is technically a formality, but I felt that perhaps uh– that this is a sort of respect thing… I think. I wanted to go ahead and kind of… let you know what I had planned… and that I’m good enough for Caitlyn. That I can take care of her…”

Again they paused, and unfortunately that only spurred my anxiety ridden blabber to continue, desperately wanting to aid the situation and uncomfortable with the silence. 

“As you can see,” I breathed, heavy, pointing vaguely to the papers Tobias was in the middle of taking out of the envelope. They both slowly looked back down to the contents, languidly looking them over as I talked. “Those are my bank statements from the past few months... I know it’s not a lot but– but it grows a little each month, and I’ve been putting away money for potential expenses like uh.. Like paying off the ring I got or what-have-you.”

“Violet–”

Tobias tried to speak again, and I unintentionally talked over him, a runaway train with no chance in slowing down. Nevermind stopping. 

“My boss even put in a little note saying that I’m a good worker– and– and I didn’t tell him to write that um– he doesn’t even really like me,” I huffed another stressed bit of laughter. “S-so you know he means it… and they give me insurance ‘n stuff, so I’m covered there.”

One more large breath to steady myself.

“I just… I know she’s your only daughter, and how much she means to you… I want you to know that I can provide for her, take care of things, that I’m responsible, that I’m worth–”

“Stop it!”

Cassandra suddenly screamed, gasping as if she had been drowning. Color started to return to her face in a flurry of red that I could only describe as unadulterated anger. I flinched and scrunched my brows together, watching as she stood, gripping several papers in her hand so tightly they were so close to ripping.

“Stop this! This– this debauchery –!”

“Cassandra–”

“No, Tobias! I will not stand for this! Not my daughter!”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” suddenly and horribly I had the feeling I offended her in some way (fucking duh) . Something Caitlyn often suggested I avoid at all costs. And I could see why. 

“ Shut up!” she screamed at me. “ Why did you have to come here? Why did we have to find out this way–?!”

I looked at Tobias helplessly, confused, and he stared back with what might resemble sympathy, but I wasn’t sure. The man was rather hard to read. He set the papers down on the coffee table as Cassandra was steaming, turning in place back and forth like she didn’t know if she wanted to storm off or not. 

“Violet,” Tobias regarded me, with such a deep voice too it made my heart sink. “We didn’t know.”

“You didn’t…?”

Realization was slow to sink in, my brain churning slowly in the murky waters. Cassandra’s yelling wasn’t helping at all. 

They didn’t know.

“No wonder she’s been so distant lately,” she waved her hand in front of her face as if she was fighting tears. “I can’t believe she’d hide such a thing– what she was thinking …”

“Darling, sit, please ,” Tobias tried, grabbing her hand sweetly, all the while it was my turn to be frozen. But his wife didn’t listen to his suggestion, turning her gaze to once again pierce right through me with such a fury I had never seen before.

“ You–! ” accusatory, she yelled, her voice echoing in their grand home. “You poisoned my little girl! Ruined her with all your– your–” she waved her hands around, searching for the right word. “-- perverted filth! Scum of the Earth, you are!”

My eyes were wide when I saw her, my mouth slightly ajar in shock, and I could say nothing.

“ Cassandra –”

“Get out of my house–! Get out and leave my baby alone!”

She may have said more, but my mind started to blank, my vision going fuzzy as my eyes landed somewhere on the floor for a while. She had left, ran off somewhere, and it wasn’t until I felt Tobias near me that I moved. He handed me back all my papers and said:

“I think it’s best for you to go.”

[ “I would have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law, Violet.”  ]

Chapter Text

February 21st, 20xx.

To: [email protected]

From: getjinxed69@gmail .com  

Hey Mr. K! 

This is Powder Lane, Vi’s sister. I know this is probably weird and random, but I found your email on your website, and I wanted to discuss something with you. I don’t think we’ve ever actually gotten the chance to meet, but Vi always described you like you were a pretty chill dude, so I figured I’d just give this a shot. 

So, I saw on Caitlyn’s Instagram that she just got engaged, am I right? Or was she just really excited about a new diamond ring or something? If she is, which I think I’m right in thinking so, I think you should convince Caitlyn to invite Vi to the wedding.

Now hear me out.

I dunno how you feel about their whole relationship. Vi told me bits and pieces but she never really got into the details or even really mentioned you by name, so maybe this is a horribly offensive thing to suggest. You can tell me to fuck off and I will, just btw.

But Vi is still in love with Caitlyn. She denies it, but it’s way too damn obvious. And I dunno if this is even a good idea but something tells me this might be a good way for her to finally face her feelings and do something or move on for good. At least she could possibly get some closure, I think. I know things ended badly, so it could maybe be good for both of them? All I know is I need something to change because Vi’s gotten better but she’s still just such a sour-puss and I have the feeling she’s going to end up sad and alone in an old folks home one day daydreaming about Caitlyn’s perfect hair or whatever lesbians think about. Either way she’s being a huge bummer, and it really fucks with my vibe.

Anyways, I hope you get back to me. Replying to this email is good, but really the best way to get a hold of me is my number (123-456-7890). Shoot me a text if you want. You strike me as an email guy, but I figured I’d give you the option.

Powder. 

.

Something in me just completely snapped.

Maybe it was the alcohol or just the insane emotional pressure I’d been under for the past few days. Probably both. But, either way, staring into those parental eyes of Caitlyn’s father, I couldn’t hold the dam back anymore. I sobbed. The shots I took in the bar were a failed attempt to hold the tears back, merely a temporary solution. But when Tobias came and found me wandering lost, and said such genuine, beautiful words (he always was a poet) , it was hard not to cry. 

The tears came up so suddenly and violently, I think I startled him. After he spoke, I was silent for a moment, processing his words, making direct eye contact. But slowly my vision blurred. I remained frozen for a moment more before the first tear finally dripped over my waterline and I choked on words I didn’t know but wanted to say. Loudly I tried to reorient myself and catch my breath, only to babble and apologize for my sudden outburst. 

“I– I– You–” were some of my feeble words, and yet he still looked at me with focus; like I was saying the most important thing in the world. “It’s– it’s—”

“Violet,” softly, so softly, he said my name, stopping my words yet doing nothing to cease my strangled cries and gasping breaths as my nose was getting stuffy. “You need not say a word. You have nothing to feel poorly for. Please, allow yourself this moment of reprieve.”

That made me crumble further, as Tobias’ words suddenly reminded me of something Vander would often say when I was throwing a fit. 

“Tears don’t belong inside, kiddo. If yuh don’t let ‘em go, they'll overflow ’n drown your silly, little brain.”

The hand that was still free started rubbing angrily at my face, trying to destroy the evidence, but Tobias took that one away too. He held it along with my other one, squeezing comfortingly. He spared me one more kind look before he gently wrapped an arm over my shoulder and encouraged me to lay my head on his own shoulder. And I did with sickening ease. 

I never liked the idea of being weak. Whatever that meant. Whatever toxic mindset that was. I hated it. I didn’t particularly enjoy public displays of extreme emotion, and more so I hated public displays of my broken self receiving help from someone I didn’t know well. 

But Tobias knew me better than I knew him. Something in his parent instincts just knew . He saw a child in need, and he opened his arms. A little girl freezing alone and he wrapped her up in a hug to keep her warm. Caitlyn got her selflessness and heart from Tobias too, that much was obvious. 

And despite my disdain, my body couldn’t even begin to feel uncomfortable with just how tired I was. How entirely drained I’d been. I could do nothing more but lamely slump into his shoulder and let the sobs come forward. He held me tightly, rubbing my arm or back, staying quiet and letting my own trepidations take their course. Let nature flow, let it do what it’s done all its existence. 

He probably thought with time I’d eventually calm down, but it was at that moment that the five years of denial finally decided to fully break. More and more kept coming to the surface, like air bubbles deep from within the ocean's murky depths. Cries started to sound more and more like words as criticisms about myself started to become more and more prominent. 

“ Fuck ,” I cursed, my words still partially under my breath like I was worried someone would overhear. Though we were alone on that cold London street. “I– I can’t be... believe I did this … fuck…! ”

Tobias didn’t answer, his hands and arms keeping me still securely on the ground, almost like I’d float away and never come back given the chance.

“I worked so hard… al–almost killed myself with it… we... went a whole year without it with fuckin’ Marge –” I not-so ashamedly gasped for a breath in the middle of my sentence. “An– and I crack just because of some girl… ”

I whimpered and tried to hide from the world in Tobias’ shoulder.

“I'm pathetic…”

An air of hesitance washed over the man, I could sense it, but after only a few seconds of silence and careful thought did I feel him inhale to speak. 

“One stumble does not ruin the marathon,” he said, firm, but gentle. “Do you know what the difference is from the past, Violet?”

I didn’t answer him, but he took my pause as a response anyway and continued. 

“You are stronger now. You’ve suffered and learned to the point where you now have the tools to fight these challenges smarter. We all still make mistakes, that’s just life, but each time we trip we fall a little less, right?”

A long sniff disrupted the silence, and I tried to ball my fists up. Although all I did was squeeze onto Tobias’ hand harder than I meant to if I had properly recalled his hand was still there. He must’ve felt my slight nod, because I could’ve sworn a smile was on his face when he spoke his next words.

“And I think you and I both know Caitlyn isn’t just some girl … hmm, Violet?”

I didn’t respond to that either, but a chuckle that wasn’t there shook his body slightly, and he rubbed my shoulder more aggressively for a second. 

.

February 22nd, 20xx.

To: [email protected]  

From: [email protected]

Ms. Lane,

Imagine my surprise when my secretary told me I got an email from a new address belonging to a one Ms. Powder Lane! A pleasant surprise, I assure you. 

I am indeed actually quite glad you decided to reach out because I have had the exact same thought. However, I believe we should push it further, and allow me to explain why. 

You are correct to assume my daughter is getting married, later this year in fact. Caitlyn was working on her guest list just the other day and oddly enough I found Violet’s name already there, along with yours. For whatever reason, Caitlyn has independently decided to invite you both. Now I’m aware you are rather far away, and though it may be inappropriate or unorthodox, I am very willing and prepared to pay for your travel expenses so you can attend. Since she wants you there, then I want you there. But even more, the past several months I have sensed something is wrong with Caitlyn. I can trace it to even as far back as a year ago, I believe. The fact that she had already (without my suggestion) decided to invite you both only lends credibility to my suspicions on my daughter’s… let us say, life trajectory, and her own feelings on such. I truly think it imperative that you both are there for the wedding. I have this feeling that perhaps Violet’s attendance may change something for the better in my daughter’s mind. What exactly that change may be, is various, and something I couldn’t name specifically. Only she knows for sure what she’s thinking.

I am hesitant to meddle in my daughter’s life, but as her father, I feel it is my duty to present her with options and possible solutions. She has seemed so distressed and distant lately. Not like herself. Violet has known her so long, so that is why I think maybe she could help in some way. So, I implore you to convince Violet to come. I know I’d personally love to see you both after such a long time as well (and properly introduce myself to you, as a matter of fact).

As I mentioned before however, I think perhaps inviting her here earlier, so they have a better chance to really talk, might be best. I was thinking I could send along an invitation to Caitlyn’s bachelorette party as well. There will be two phases. One for the parents and family friends, and then a secondary one (that Cassandra doesn’t know about, so I beg of you to keep our secret) with just Caitlyn’s girl-friends. She showed interest in a party that wasn’t so… proper. She knew I’d allow it and her mother wouldn’t, hence the secrecy. I can only send an invitation to the dinner with the family, which can be enough, but if you can somehow (nicely and politely) find your way to the second party, I encourage it. She is sure to be less guarded and more likely to talk about herself in a less stressful environment. Now, I already know Caitlyn would turn down inviting Violet to either party. Just call it a father’s intuition. But if Violet were to perhaps just show up, I can deal with the aftermath of the invitation confusion myself and take full responsibility. I truly just want Caitlyn to connect with someone from her past again, as I think that could really help her with this funk she’s going through. 

She hasn’t talked with me about it, nor my wife as far as I know. But I can see it in her eyes. Something is wrong, and I feel so strongly that I need to help her. Merely I want to offer her my hand and allow her to decide whether she wants to take it or not. I do not want to upset her or force anything down her throat.

I thank you again for reaching out, and I thank the universe for bringing a likeminded person my way. I was doubtful as to whether or not I should do something at all. But this rather seems like fate, no?

I check this email only within my posted business hours, which is rather frequently. You are right to assume I enjoy an email over a text message, but I shall save your number should I need to reach you more readily. 

Sincerely,

Tobias Kiramman. 

.

Next thing I knew I was stumbling back into my hotel room, arm slung over Tobias’ shoulders and my hair hanging over my downturned face. I couldn’t stand to look him or anyone in the eye. Mine had almost swollen shut, fresh tear after tear spilling over my waterline. I couldn’t stop it. Five years of emotion had built up, and now the floodgates were open. Any amount of crying up until this point couldn’t have prepared me for this; it pales in comparison. I hardly skimmed off the top of the pile when it came to what I needed to let out and let float away into the open air. 

When I knew we had made it back into the safety of the relative privacy in our hotel room, I just crumbled. My feet stopped working, knowing I could finally rest and allow myself to fall apart completely. The booze destroyed any shame or embarrassment I would’ve held onto so desperately, so tightly. I couldn’t even remember what those feelings were, what they felt like, what they did to me. The ceiling spun, and all I could hear was a medley of Tobias’ and my sister’s voices, mixed in with my desperate cries. 

“Vi, Vi– we need to get you up– hey, hey it’s okay– I’m here–” 

Powder’s voice rang in my ears the loudest as I felt her try to sit me up from my position on the floor. The scratchy carpet felt comfortable against my back, the solid ground a necessity in this out-of-control whirlwind I was experiencing. I coughed, almost choked on my own spit in trying to talk, squeezing two different hands that again, were continuously trying to coax me up. But I couldn’t register that. Gibberish flooded out of my mouth along with the bile quickly making its way up my throat. It was that familiar burn crawling up my neck that made me arch my back and turn myself over onto my stomach, much to the reluctance of those grounding hands holding mine. But they had gone somewhere, I didn’t know where, because I slapped my own hands down onto that burly carpet and attempted to stumble upwards and towards the bathroom not twenty feet away. 

Almost immediately I fell back onto my knees, and hands were on me again, under my arms and pulling me forward before I could yak all over myself and this undoubtedly expensive flooring. Porcelain met my face as my exhausted body slumped over the bowl, and for the second time that night, I threw up my whole stomach. 

Powder carefully brushed my bangs from my sweaty forehead, and two sets of hands rubbed my back. Two sets of voices calmed me as I continued to sob into the gross water below. I spat and sniffed, and threw up a third time. Powder flushed for me, seeing as I didn’t have the sense to do so myself. 

Tobias got up from our collective pile on the tiled floor, and I heard water running somewhere in the distance behind me. 

“Wha– why– what–wha–ah–” I bawled like a little kid who had just dropped their ice cream cone. A pure innocent sadness, unfortunately discovering one of the many disappointments of the real world. 

I wasn’t speaking real words.

“Shh,” Powder tried to shush me, tried to relax me as my chest heaved in a desperate attempt to get air. “It’s okay.”

Finally, I could lift my head, those words triggering the strength. I squinted at my sister in the fluorescent lights, my face surely red and puffy, and I could hardly see through the warbling of my vision. I saw her long hair in a tangled mess, released from her braids. I saw her in that same red shirt she had just put on hours before for bed. I saw her worried eyes, ones she inherited from our mother, and ones I had received plenty of times growing up. From holding my hair back, Powder ran her hand to hold my face, chin trembling, mouth weakly open with useless words. 

“Is… it’s not… i-its no-oh-oh-ah-t…” My voice couldn’t remain steady, mewls of pure despair interrupting every other word.

It was a full. blown. meltdown. So dramatic, but Powder would also tell me later, so undeniably real. 

She didn’t have an answer for me, instead she remained silent and let me fall into her lap, where she could look down on me and brush my hair from my face again. My hand went to grasp her knee as the rest of my body went prone, and I was nothing more than a ragdoll. I didn’t feel I could move even if I wanted to. 

“Violet.”

The kind voice of a kind man, Tobias, cut through the fray, as my eyes cleared only slightly and looked up.

He knelt to me and took my other free hand briefly.

“I am here. Your sister is here. You can push through this.”

He handed something to my sister, but I wasn’t sure what it was until I felt something wet and heavy come into contact with my forehead. A washcloth, in cool water, and she wiped it gently over and over again to clean away the sweat. It was soothing, a welcome pressure, and something that aided in the oncoming headache that was to follow this night of drinking, but was already starting to surface. It helped. Tobias’ soft words of encouragement, his genuine belief in me, his confession earlier that night, it welled up only further tears, and I had to close my eyes. I sniffled, and took a shuddering breath in, then out. 

“Why…?” I managed to whine out. “Why… why didn…”

“Shhh, Vi, try to sleep,” Powder cooed.

“Why didn’t she– she tell… me?”

Neither one could conjure a reply.

“Why d-did she… leave me?”

Again, no response.

“Why… why doesn’t she… love me anymore…?”

No one seemed to be able to answer my cries.

.

February 24th, 20xx.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]  

Hiya! Oh my god you actually responded, that’s so cool. I knew you were a chill dude. You can just call me Powder btw. Ms. Lane gives me the ick. Way too proper for the type of person I am lol. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me!

Caitlyn’s not been doing well huh? With what? I’m gonna assume it has to do with her relationship with little miss redhead copycat (what's her name again?) am I right? You think she’s getting cold feet or something? That may make things interesting for Vi… and honestly that would put on a real entertaining show for me. I've always loved watching my sister squirm with embarrassment. She's usually so suave but something about Cait just makes her brain stop working. It’s hilarious. 

I’m confident I can get Vi to the wedding but convincing her to go to the party… that's a challenge. Vi is almost as stubborn as Caitlyn, which is a real pain in the ass. But I enjoy a challenge tbh and I truly am an expert at annoying my sister into doing things she doesn't want to by now. I can get her there. Go ahead and send the party invite and I'll guarantee we make it. And please pick on her if you can. Find a way to seat her next to Caitlyn or something. The more tension the better. It really forces Vi to face things which helps push her in the direction of finally fuckin doing something about all this bs she has in her head.

You’re a pretty cool dad for wanting to look out for your kid like this. Almost warms my heart <3 Worst that can happen is she'll get pissed and yell at you. Or call off the wedding and run away. Or something. Not so bad, yeah? Either way, I think those two idiots have a shit ton of unfinished business that could definitely benefit from a forced sit down. They’ve been away from each other too long though, the window to reach out has totally closed. Plus, again, Vi, denial. 

I’ll keep a closer eye on my emails from now on, but I’ll also be sure to look out for a text too.

Till next time, Sir Kiramman.

Powder

.

They must’ve thought I was asleep.

But I wasn’t.

Well, I was. But something stirred in me after a while, and when I cracked an eye open, I found myself tucked nice and warm into one of the two large, hotel beds. The comforters were as soft and heavy as they looked, making me think maybe that’s how it got its name. It was comforting. The blackout curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t tell how long I had been asleep. Merely, I laid there still for a bit, until I heard them start to speak. Two voices. Voices that I could barely recall shushing and supporting me not hours earlier. My back was to them, and I remained still, listening.

“Thanks for your help, really,” my sister's voice sounded uncharacteristically grateful. “I’m sorry she was such a pain in the ass.”

“Not at all.” Tobias confirmed he was still there by responding. “I’m glad to have helped.”

“Yeah, well, then… you’re a saint.”

He chuckled lightly, and I heard some footsteps as they moved about the room. There was a pause, a tension, a hesitance in the air.

“Do…” Powder started. “Do you think… she’ll be okay with going still? To the wedding?”

“Only you know her so well, Powder.”

One of them inhaled sharply, like they desperately needed a breath after all the commotion I caused. I surely drained them of all their energy, and I thanked whatever god was listening that I had people in my life willing to put up with my bullshit. 

“Right…” she sighed. 

Ruffling of a coat, and I assumed it was Tobias getting ready to leave.

“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call, okay?” he said. “Though… you’ve changed my tune about instant messaging... I can see the appeal now.”

“I’m influential like that,” my sister had a smile on her face. I could tell by her tone. “And I gotta admit, your formal texting is hilarious. But in like, an endearing way.”

Another soft chuckle. More footsteps, then the opening of the door.

“Thank you, Powder. But I’ll get out of your hair now. I hope to see you both later, hm?”

“Fingers crossed,” Powder lightly laughed, nothing more than a puff of air cascading forth. 

What the fuck were they talking about, texting? Since when did he have Powder’s number? Since when did she have his? Are they communicating? About what ? What on Earth do they have to talk about? They have almost nothing in common. What fucking scheme are they cooking up? What are they planning? How long? Why? 

Why?

Why?

Why?

.

February 27th, 20xx.

To: [email protected]  

From: [email protected]

Ms. Powder,

Apologies for my late reply, I think I really should take advantage of the easy access of my cell phone from now on. I simply wanted to send you a message confirming that I have successfully sent the bachelorette party invites and travel accommodations your way. I sent them to the same address Caitlyn used for the wedding invitations. I hope you haven’t moved, but Caitlyn seemed adamant in knowing the proper address. (Caitlyn’s fiancée’s name is Victoria, to answer your question.)

I am happy to hear about your confidence in your ability to have Violet come. I agree with you in the sense that I believe closure is needed for the both of them, and their opportunity only shrunk as time went by. I worry that if they had no interference from someone else in their lives, they perhaps would never meet again. I can recall how close they seemed at one point, and it seems sad to think that something that special can just disappear one day. But I will not get sentimental. I shall update you on anything, if necessary, and I trust that you will do the same.

Sincerely,

Tobias Kiramman. 

.

“...et up! Vi! Get up! You lazy ass–”

Powder was yelling at me.

Huh, what else is new?

But this time she was hassling me to get up, shaking me on the shoulder like a kid would their parents on Christmas morning. Though she was quite a bit more violent. When I didn’t move, stubborn and exhausted, she slapped my shoulder, eliciting a yelp.

“Ow!”

“Get! Up!” she shouted, directly in my ear. 

That made them ring and forced what felt like a large knife into the center of my head. My eyes squinted at the light, the curtains no longer drawn to cover the window, which was now flooding the room with morning sun. It twisted the knife in my forehead, making the headache worse, and I groaned before trying to burrow under the covers.

“Oh, absolutely not!” my sister protested, naturally, and she got up for a moment to snatch the entire comforter off the bed. “Up! We’re going to be late!”

“Late…?” I grumbled, clearly having a hard time relearning what a hangover is.

“Yes!” Powder was clearly over me, getting more and more irritated with each thing I did to slow down the morning. This included me attempting to hide under the pillows that she quickly scattered on the floor, leaving me completely exposed to the elements on the naked mattress. “Now get your ass up and in the shower! You look like a fuckin’ mess.” 

It was then it clicked, my memory of the previous night, and even where I was completely, foggy but flooding my brain in that split second. 

I was an idiot. 

“Shit.” 

I whispered that word to myself as I realized, and I finally jolted up from the bed. The knife in my head protested, along with my empty and whining stomach, and aching eyes. I tried to shut them up with pure will alone, which I knew could work for only so long. But it would have to do. Speeding through my shower, I still made sure to thoroughly clean all of me. It was like last night left a film of filth all over me, and it made me want to crawl out of my own skin. 

That or I spilled booze on myself, which I definitely did. 

I dried my hair, attempted to style it, brushed my teeth, threw on a typical face of makeup (a little eyeshadow, some mascara, and lip balm) to make me not look so… dead. I had added a bit of concealer under the eyes, which I don’t normally do, but the rings under my peepers were a bit too telling of the night before. I noticed my eyes were still swollen, and with that little bit of makeup skill I had, I really tried my best to hide it without looking ridiculous. 

Then I threw myself out of the bathroom, going straight to the closet for my suit. However, I saw my sister sitting on one of the beds still. Hair not done, red cotton tee shirt still on, what appeared to be a scone in her hand (leaving crumbs on her face as she chewed), and her phone in the other. She was mindlessly scrolling, and I watched her, confused, as she finished her snack and chuckled at something she came across on the world wide web.

“What’re you doing?” I choked out in an almost offended tone. I could ask where she got the scone later.

“What?” she looked up, rubbing her face to clean the crumbs but missing them entirely.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” I clarified. “We’re gonna be late, remember?”

“Nah!” Powder waved her hand at me, nonchalantly flopping back onto the bed, hands behind her head. “We won’t be late, don’t worry, sis.”

“Nah–?” I was definitely offended now. “What do you mean, nah–?”

A beat of silence for dramatic effect.

“Cause,” she smiled. “Wedding isn’t until two.”

I knew that smile. It was an evil one. A conniving smile, one that said, ‘ha ha I tricked you!’ and one that I had memorized. I stared at that smile for a moment, frozen as her words sunk in. My eyes trailed over to the digital clock on the nightstand sitting between the two queens. Reading it, I swear I almost had a stroke.

10:13 AM.

Normally I’d be screaming, going to tackle my sister in revenge with a slew of insults equipped and ready to go. However , with one simple word, I was suddenly fully reminded what on Earth I was rushing to get to.

A wedding.

It depressed my resolve, and it blocked the usual anger I’d be spewing all over the place. Because that’s right. That’s why we're here. Caitlyn’s wedding. To watch Caitlyn get married. Get married to a woman named Victoria.

Victoria. 

…

Sounds an awful lot like Violet. 

“I hate you,” I growled, then dragged my feet across the floor to pick up the discarded comforter.

“No you don’t.” Powder laughed openly at me.

“Death. And it’s going to be painful.”

Defeated, I crawled back into my own bed, grumbling the whole way. It was just like my little sister to pull something like that on me. I wasn’t even notorious for being late, she was just mean. So with total disregard to the makeup I just put on and my hair I just tried to style, I got cozy again under the covers, pulling the large, heavy comforter along with me.

“Oooh no you don’t!” my sister screeched, and I felt her jump into the bed with me and tug at the protection I had wrapped around me. “You don’t get to go back asleep! We have to talk.”

“I’d really rather not, Pow…” my voice was muffled, but she just scoffed, not lightening up for even a second.

“And I’d really rather not pay taxes, but sometimes avoidance isn’t always the answer, moron.” She slapped me again, not as hard as last time, on the arm. It was softened too by the blanket, so I honestly hardly felt it. But I knew she wasn’t going to let this go.

I turned over onto my back so I could look up at my sister's face, which seemed to get her attention, and she calmed, settling to simply sit and stare back at me. She was pouting slightly, but had a genuine look of concern in her expression that looked all too familiar to me. After a beat or two of quiet, I sighed a large sigh, then reached up to hold one side of Powder’s face.

“Thanks for always looking out for me, Pow.”

She nuzzled into my hand a little bit before I let it fall, and she let out a sigh of her own. Powder glanced around me, not really looking at me as she thought. But eventually she spoke.

“Yeah, well, I know you’d do the same.”

A small smile crept up onto my face. I couldn’t help it. And I also couldn’t help the way I reached out quickly to pinch at her side. I wanted to avoid sincere emotions, and I was going to use humor as my shield.

“Damn straight,” I grinned, and she squealed, swatting my hand away. 

“Don’t!” she whined.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have given me a heart attack this morning,” I countered, pinching her a second, but final time. Another swat, another squeal. 

We laughed together for a moment in the early morning sun, where we eventually sat calmer to watch the dust in the air float around before disappearing somewhere. Silence fell over us again as we just thought. But then Powder started to fidget, and that created the tension only the moment before a hard-to-ask question could create. I already knew what she was going to say. I had been asking myself this question the entire time, but I readied myself to hear it from her instead.

“Do you think… you can go today?”

And honestly?

I wasn’t sure. 

But I knew I couldn’t miss it.

I really didn’t want to be sitting here, watching the clock, wondering when it was all happening. Wondering if this was the exact time my truly undeniable love for an untouchable woman would kill me. Because it’s been made clear at this point, crystal fucking clear.

I’m madly, still, so madly in love with Caitlyn Kiramman.

Chapter Text

[ March 1st. ]

Tobias Kiramman

Hello, this is Tobias Kiramman. I am hoping to reach Powder Lane. Is this the correct phone number? Please respond when available. Thank you.

Powder  

Hey Mr. K! Sir Kiramman! 

Powder

Yeah this is Powder lol

Powder

What's up? No email this time?

Tobias Kiramman

I have sent you an email I’m sure you’ve read by now, but did not receive a response. However I am choosing to text message now with some sudden news that may cause a hitch in plans.

Powder 

Oh shit

Powder

Whats that?

Tobias Kiramman

It seems Victoria and Caitlyn have had an argument. I haven’t heard details but just from Caitlyn’s tone and body language, it seemed like a rather big one. I am waiting for her to come to me about it, as it seems like the type of thing I shouldn’t poke around, lest I make her mood worse.

Powder 

Do you think shell call off the wedding or something?

Tobias Kiramman

That is only a slim possibility at this time. I will know more later. 

Powder 

Well keep me posted

Tobias Kiramman

I will. Thank you. 

[ March 3rd. ]

Powder  

Got the invites today. Vi didn’t take it super well lol

Powder

The emotional hurricane has begun muahaha >:)

Tobias Kiramman

I’m glad to hear they both made it to you safely. The plane tickets as well?

Powder 

Yeah, thanks again for that btw, ill pay you back soon I just need to save up

Tobias Kiramman

There’s no need, I am happy to provide a means of transport and stay. Especially because I know I am more than able and this is indeed a favor you are doing me. I’d consider it unfair if I made you pay your own way here.

Powder

Yknow, you’re alright for a rich ol’ man

Tobias Kiramman

I will take that as a compliment. 

Powder

How are things with Cait and the fiancée? Still tense?

Tobias Kiramman

I never heard any of the details of the fight, but things seemed to have smoothed over now. There was no mention of postponing or canceling the wedding, so it seems things are still a go. Caitlyn however is still in the same funk she has been in for awhile now. Her bad mood surely was not a result of their fight, but it didn’t seem to help matters. I theorize perhaps it had a hand in causing such a fight.

Powder

Oh tea

Tobias Kiramman

Pardon? Tea? I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what tea has to do with this.

Powder

Lol its slang for gossip

Tobias Kiramman

I see; how interesting. Linguistics continue to surprise me even after all my time living. Seems the saying “you learn something new everyday” rings true still.

Powder

Yeah lmao sure me too very cool

[ March 10th. ]

Powder

GOT HER TO AGREE TO COME FUCK YEEAAHHHH

Tobias Kiramman

Oh, that’s wonderful news! 

Powder

Right??? Vi seems to still be goin thru something though, shes kinda out of it

Tobias Kiramman

Well that's to be expected. I’m sure many buried emotions and memories are starting to resurface. It’s very important you are there for her during this difficult time, Powder. We don’t want her backing out, more so, we don’t want her making any bad decisions due to emotional stress.

Powder

Pphhftt you’re tellin me

Tobias Kiramman

What do you mean? Has she made poor choices relating to Caitlyn before? If I may be so bold as to inquire. Forgive me if asking is rude.

Powder

No no youre good– it is kinda private to Vi but I guess you could say that. All I can say I guess is that shes worked really hard and is over two years sober now, like a total boss yknow? Shes totally kicked ass lately

Powder

so I guess youre right that i should watch out for her and make sure she doesnt spiral again since this is all pretty sensitive stuff

Tobias Kiramman

I understand. It is an understatement to say that things such as that can be very challenging. I am very glad to hear she’s done the hard work and it seems the worst is behind her. I have full confidence in your bond as sisters to help keep her afloat. And I am sure she is well equipped from her battles as well; we must trust that she can handle herself equally as much.

Powder

Even tho she can be such a pain in the ass… im glad i can be here for her yknow? Id rather be here than anywhere else, thats for sure

Tobais Kiramman

Yet another prime source for my confidence in you both to lift each other up, Powder.

[ April 2nd. ]

Tobias Kiramman

Hello Powder. I am just checking in. How is Violet? Yourself? Things here have been the same, however I feel some tension from Caitlyn. More than usual.

Powder

Hey Sir K! 

Powder

Yeah everythings good here

Powder

Kinda

Tobias Kiramman

Is everything alright?

Powder 

Yeah yeah its all good dw, just that vi is very clearly still going through something lol

Tobias Kiramman

Is she exhibiting self destructive or dangerous behavior?

Powder

Maybe a little

Powder 

Shes just working out waaaaay more than normal, which is already a lot

Powder

I think shes pushing herself too hard

Tobias Kiramman

Perhaps you should say something to her. I’m sure she would listen to what you have to say, especially if you are concerned about her well-being.

Powder

Yeaaaaaah maybe ill talk to her when she gets back from work

Powder

Ill keep you posted

Powder 

You mentioned caitlyn being tense

Tobias Kiramman

Yes. As the wedding date draws nearer, she seems more and more withdrawn. This is exactly the sort of thing that caused me to worry in the first place. Cassandra has noticed it too. We’ve talked about it. She thinks it’s just typical wedding nerves.

Powder

But you dont agree

Tobias Kiramman

Correct, I do not. I think there is more going on beneath the surface with Caitlyn. I’m starting to seriously worry. More than I was before.

Powder

Weeeeell

Powder

Maaaaybe you should talk to her

Tobias Kiramman

Touché, Powder. And excellent advice. I will talk with her as well when she comes over for dinner tonight.

Powder

Sounds like we both got a lotta work cut out for us

[ April 4th. ]

Powder

So howd the dinner go

Powder 

Im dying for an update

Tobias Kiramman

Yes, hello, forgive my late reply. 

Tobias Kiramman

Dinner went poorly. She was very defensive and dismissive. It did not help that I was alone in my opinion at the table. We smoothed things over, but the interaction has only hardened my resolve.

Powder

Damn

Powder

If it makes you feel better my talk with vi at least went okay

Tobias Kiramman

I am very glad to hear it! Did you come to a good compromise? 

Powder 

Ya ya she agreed to stop the heavy weight lifting for a bit and go on runs outside instead

Powder

She really needed to get out of that musty gym

Powder

And basement 

Tobias Kiramman

Basement?

Powder

Its where she keeps her home equipment

Tobias Kiramman

Ah, I see. Well, I’m relieved to hear she is doing better. I do look forward to seeing her again. I hope I can have the chance to talk with her some. 

Powder

woooow tired of me already?

Tobias Kiramman

Not at all, Powder. I merely have a few things to apologize for.

Powder

You do??? Like what???

Tobias Kiramman

I will leave it to Violet to fill you in. It concerns how Caitlyn’s and Violet’s relationship ended.

Powder

Oooh ok hot tea got it got it ill let her come to me then

Tobias Kiramman

A wise choice. 

Tobias Kiramman

Oh! Tea! I remember you used that term before. It’s slang, correct?

Powder

Right-o indeed sir K 

Tobias Kiramman

Delightful. I look forward to learning more.

[ April 10th. ]

Tobias Kiramman

Hello Powder. I’m reaching out to check in once again. Any complications with your plane tickets or anything else?

Powder

Oh hey hey whats up

Powder 

Nah we good

Tobias Kiramman

I’m happy to hear it. I wish you both safe travels tomorrow.

Powder

Thx! See you soon sir kiramman

[ April 12th, 3:24. ]

Powder

Hey

Powder

I ave no iea if youre awake

Powder

But we jus got back fro teh bachloereetee party

Powder

Vi went fro a walk

Powder

Which is weirf

Powder

Seh doesnt just do that

Powder

Shes been gonea while

Powder

I looked jp her location and sehs at a var

Powder

Bar

Powder

Place called royal dogs 

Powder

Isti toomuch of a favor to ask if yojll see if shes okay?

Tobias Kiramman

Forgive me Powder, I hadn’t seen your messages until now. Violet is at the Royal Dogs bar? And you’d like me to find her, correct?

Powder

Ya

Tobias Kiramman

May I ask why you don’t track her down yourself? Certainly she’d be more receptive, and likely happier to see her sister than me. You mentioned her sobriety awhile back. This could be very difficult and emotional for her

Powder

Ur right but im tipsy and tired adn cozy and honestly ill probably get lost in ur damn stupid city of weird streest

Powder

Plus she walked so farand i dont have monet for an uebr

Powder

Uber 

Tobias Kiramman

You make a good point. Well, considering she could be in harm's way somewhere, I’m more than willing to go check up on her. I’ll make sure she gets back to the hotel as well.

Powder

BELSSYOU THANKYOUSO MCH

Tobias Kiramman

You’re quite welcome, Powder.

[ April 12th, 14:30. ]

Powder

Hey just had this feeling that i should proooooobably apologize for basically begging you to get up and look for my sister for me last night

Tobias Kiramman

Don’t apologize. It really ended up being a good moment for us to talk, actually. How is she? Is she here?

Powder

Yeah we both just got here

Powder

Where do we go? Do we like just go and sit already? When does it start?

Tobias Kiramman

The ceremony will officially begin at 15:00. Or 3 o’clock. Until then please feel free to mingle, take a snack from the buffet table, or whatever you like. 

Tobias Kiramman

Oh, do be sure to sign the guest book, won’t you?

Powder

Yea sure we can do that

Powder

See you soon i guess

Powder

Wonder wtf is going to happen

Powder

I have a feeling itll be quite the show

Tobias Kiramman

Indeed.

Chapter Text

“No, a proposal has to be something more than the desperate desire to end a bickering match. It has to be planned. It should be magical. There should be music playing and romantic lighting and a subtle buildup to the popping of the big question. There should be a thousand yellow daisies…”

 – Lorelai Gilmore, Gilmore Girls, 01x21.

.

The only sensation throughout my body was a small prickling in my fingers. They twitched by my sides as I stood next to my sister. I rocked side to side gently when she elbowed me to gain my attention. She had signed her name in the guestbook, and gestured for me to do the same. Numbly I took the pen and did as I was asked. 

We waded through unfamiliar faces in a sea of British. Two large thresholds, both with double doors, yawned open to the main hall from the foyer. Rows and rows of chairs were before us, and it was apparent that perhaps the entire country had been invited to the event. 

We both continued to explore, pushing into the main hall. The left was immediately large stained glass windows, a small space between them and the chairs left for people to easily navigate. The right side of the room extended further and revealed a hallway with a sign reading “restrooms” just above it. A small open bar sat empty and not in use against the right wall before the hallway entrance. Despite its lack of liveliness, just the sight of stacked glasses on the shelves behind it did something to worsen my hangover and swirled my stomach sick.

“Bathroom,” I mumbled to Powder, and I didn’t hear her response.

I disappeared down that foreboding hallway that no one else seemed to be wandering down. Alone in the echoing of the marble and expensive walls, I eyed doors galore, all locked. I came further into another room decorated with round tables, and staff hurriedly setting a center piece on each one. The reception hall. A dance floor was there, and a chandelier dangled above, illuminated by the sun filtering through the tall windows on each wall that mirrored those in the ceremony hall. 

I asked for directions from one of the staff members, and was led to another hallway that branched from the reception area. More fancy doors, but the hall was wider, more grand, and the ceilings just as tall as before. I kept trying each door, scanning everywhere I could for more signage in vain. My patience was growing short, even though I didn’t really need to use the bathroom anyways. I just knew I’d feel more comfortable and less stricken with my hangover in a place where I could splash water on my face and be alone for a moment. I couldn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling, what was going on in my head. It was all just numbness. A dream. Like I was outside of my body. Survival mode, my brain solely focused on staying upright and breathing.

Finally a door knob turned, and I sighed. However, when I pushed it open, I was met with several scandalized gasps. Many pairs of eyes came up to meet me, and as the haze in my mind caught up and focused, I realized this wasn’t a bathroom. Not at all.

[ Hello darlin' ]

Just before me was the bride, albeit not dressed yet, and merely in a satin dressing gown. Two bridesmaids lounged on the couch against the back wall, and three others were practically dancing around Caitlyn in attempts to style her hair, doll up her face in makeup, and help care for her nails and hands. 

[ Nice to see you ]

At my intrusion everyone froze, including myself, and it took way too long for me to even process the fact that I was certainly not supposed to be here. Though a lack of offense was on Caitlyn’s face in comparison to all the beauty professionals surrounding her. But I wasn’t focused on them. 

[ It's been a long time ]

“Who the hell are you?” one of them, a tall skinny man with a snooty voice and a comb, screeched out. It made me jump, and I cleared my throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry– just looking for–”

[ You're just as lovely ]

[ As you used to be ]

“You cannot be here!” the man continued, stepping closer to me before making a shoo-ing motion with his hands “Out! Out! Out!”

[ How's your new love? ]

I took the hint and hurriedly closed the door, sucking in a deep breath as I did so. I didn’t let it go, just holding it there in my chest as I tried to ignore the warmth in my face I only just noticed, and the ache in my gut get worse. I heard more words, some in a voice I could recognize anywhere, tossed around behind the door, but I decided to leave it a mystery. Turning away, I tried to rush off in the direction I had been going beforehand.

[ Are you happy? ]

But my elbow was caught after a few strides, and I failed to notice again that someone had chased after me. And out of all the people in that room to follow, I hardly would’ve expected it to be Caitlyn herself.

[ Hope your doin' fine ]

This dream-like trance I was in wasn’t relenting, and I think it was a defense mechanism, honestly. I hardly flinched, hardly reacted when she stopped me, and we were then alone in that grand, wide hallway.

[ Just to know it ]

[ Means so much to me ]

“Vi,” she said. She said my name. “You came…”

[ What's that darlin'? ]

I blinked, confused as to why she was yet to take her hand back from where she hooked it into my elbow to stop me. At my pause, and at my glance, she seemed to notice, and bashfully retracted her hand, making me miss the warmth of her touch.

[ How am I doin'? ]

“Yeah,” my voice cracked, I suppose from lack of use. “Yeah, I… I guess I did…”

[ I'm doin' alright ]

We both seemed dazed, in two different ways I’d guess, but both our minds were indeed elsewhere during this conversation. 

[ Except I can't sleep ]

“Well…” softly, she continued. “I’m glad you did.”

[ And I cry all night 'til dawn ]

“You are?” my brow scrunched. She nodded and hummed. “Why?”

[ What I'm trying to say is I love you– ]

To that her own expression tightened with a bit of confusion at my blunt statement. I hardly cared though, my brain registering the world around me like a videogame where none of my actions had consequences because I could simply reload and try again later. Caitlyn looked a bit speechless at my gall, unsure of how to answer, but we were both saved by the bell so to speak. 

[ –and I miss you ]

“Miss Caitlyn!”

One of the beauty specialists popped out from behind the door we had traveled quite a few feet from. The bride turned at the mention of her name, and I looked over her shoulder to see the short woman who had been rubbing some kind of hand lotion in for Cait before.

[ And I'm so sorry– ]

“We need you back in here at once, Miss Caitlyn!” The woman had a hint of panic in her voice, like they were on a tight schedule. Caitlyn stuttered shortly before she realized I took that moment to simply turn away and continue on my quest to hide in a bathroom stall.

[ –that I did you wrong ]

.

It was a terrible day. 

I hate to relive it.

.

I hadn’t fully absorbed the shock of the situation at all. Hardly whatsoever on the drive back, but once I came back inside our house it settled. Our house. Caitlyn’s and mine. Where we lived and shared memories for what felt like eons now. I could almost see them fondly as I shuffled about the open space. 

See us together on the couch watching TV and falling asleep. Her cooking in the morning, then us eating breakfast together. That one time we slid around our hard floors in socks like an ice rink. When she surprised me on my birthday with brand new training equipment. 

But now it was all soured, and faded away like a splotch of ink getting rinsed off a countertop. All I could do was slump into the couch and wait. Wait for Caitlyn to get home. And I sat there for several hours, in my nice new shoes, in a button up she had gotten me, and my envelope limp in my own limp hands resting on my lap. My stomach started to growl, my spine started to hurt from slouching, but I didn’t notice. The more I waited, the angrier I got. Confused and angry .

How could she do this?

Keep me a secret?

And before I even had a chance to lose my temper at an empty room, the front door opened. I could feel the dying sun peak over the couch back from the door, but I didn’t move. Not yet.

“I’m home!” she said, sing-songy, her usual chipper self as she removed her shoes and closed the door behind her carefully. “I stopped by the store just before I came home. We were running low on some essentials and I figured I’d get some shredded cheese for our morning eggs. I felt adventurous.”

Caitlyn laughed at herself as she wandered to the kitchen, setting a few bags down on the kitchen counter, distracted by putting everything away. I heard her humming, and my soul ached, forcing me up. I followed her, and leaned my weight on the doorframe to watch her.

“Well, you certainly look nice, love. What’s the occasion?” she noticed me, noticed my nicer attire, but then she noticed my expression. One full of dread and despair. “Violet? What’s wrong?”

In only a moment her cheery demeanor snapped to a concerned one. One that would usually comfort me, knowing I had someone to lean on, someone to support me, someone to help me. But it was different this time. This time when she came to me, I couldn’t look her in the eye. I flinched away when she raised a hand to stroke my cheek, and her worried voice rang out again, softer this time now that we were so close. 

“How could you not tell them, Caitlyn?” I said, looking up into those wonderful pools of blue, but only just for a second before I bit my lip and looked away.

“Tell them…?”

“Your parents,” my voice was quiet, but not any less firm. “About you. About me. About us?”

She backed away from me a few steps, her hands dropping to her sides, and when I dared a glance, her face had gone white just like her parent’s had. Her expression was distant, in disbelief, and she shook her head.

“Violet… how did you–”

“I saw them today.”

“You what—?” Caitlyn raised her voice a little, so I did too, matching hers.

“Yeah, I went to see them and–”

“Wait, you went to their house? Without me?”

“Well– yeah,” I felt myself starting to get defensive as her voice neared mad instead of apologetic.

“ What the Hell were you thinking?” her voice jumped in volume there.

But I certainly couldn’t answer that question truthfully. Not here, not now.

Telling her the full truth as to why I was there at all exposed my entire plan, and made the ring I kept in my pocket weigh heavy. I had planned to show it to her parents before the yelling began, but now it was just a sour reminder. I couldn’t tell her what I was doing there. I just couldn’t. I refused to ruin what was supposed to be a magical moment for her just so I could justify myself.

Caitlyn deserved more than to be proposed to during a fight. 

She deserved a sunset, a picnic, a thousand yellow daisies. 

“Well what the Hell were you thinking, Cait?” I yelled instead, irritated that somehow I had done something wrong. “How could you hide something like that from me?”

“I–” she started, almost startled, at a loss for words. “I don’t know–!”

“ Bullshit ,” I spat. “You had to have had a damn good reason to keep me a secret from them, and a much better one for not telling me. Or you ‘ought to have a damn good reason.”

“I wasn’t ready to come out yet, Vi! Is that a fucking crime–!?”

“Of course not,” my voice was getting hoarse, but desperate for answers, as this still didn’t make any sense to me. Cait was such a smart, trustworthy, responsible person. I didn’t see this coming, not in a million years. “But you could’ve told me–! For Christ's sake, Caitlyn! You think I wouldn’t understand or something?”

“I don’t know!” she screamed, tears threatening her waterline. It was only noticing hers that I noticed my own tears fogging up my eyesight. But neither of us bothered to wipe them away.

“I don’t get it–! We-we’ve had dinner with them, talked about finding an apartment–”

“They just think you’re my roommate. That’s why.”

Caitlyn had her arms crossed, head looking to her feet, but not with a shameful expression. Instead she looked irritated, exasperated, angry. She refused to make eye contact even when I moved to try and force her to look me in the eye.

“Your roommate?” I scoffed, raising my hands slightly in disbelief before letting them lightly fall and slap my legs. “Well, I guess that’s all I am, huh?”

Caitlyn groaned. “Don’t be an ass, Vi. You know that’s not what I meant. I had to tell them that–”

“ Sure .” With a huff, I ran a hand through my hair. “Whatever you say, Cupcake.”

“ Stop it , don’t talk like that,” she looked at me again, pissed. 

“I’ll talk however the fuck I want to talk,” my voice was starting to raise again. “I have the right to be mad at you–! I just made a fool out of myself in front of your parents and their entire staff! Which, by the way, how many goddamn maids do they need? They aren’t royalty–! For fucks sake...”

“Are you just going to throw a fit now–?!”

“Yeah! I am! Do you really not see how fucked up what you did was–?”

Caitlyn scoffed. “ Grow up .”

She said that almost completely under her breath, like she meant to, but secretly still wanted me to hear it. Just to get a rise out of me. To stoke the fire, poke the bear, watch angry tears drip onto my shirt. But I didn’t say anything else. I stood there panting through my nose with a fury in my eyes she couldn’t look at. I watched her as she thought to herself for a moment before speaking once again, and this time in a low voice she only used when so utterly sincere. 

“If you can’t fucking tell me why you went to my parents, without letting me know, alone–”

“I can’t –”

“Let me finish!” she screamed. Caitlyn bit her lip just before she continued. “You know how my parents are! Now they’re going to make my life so much harder–”

“Because you lied to them?”

“Vi–” Caitlyn complained.

“You didn’t wanna come out yet, that’s fine, I get that. But–” I stopped myself, somehow out of breath, and I sniffed. “ But you didn’t–”

“Yeah! I didn’t tell you! I know!!”

“Why?!”

“Because I knew you’d act just like this!”

The words reverberated in our house like an echo. It lasted too long in the back of my mind many years later as a reminder. And it wasn’t until I got some kind of resolution that I would get some relief. But then. In that moment. She was staring at me with more frustration than I had ever seen from her in our years together. Through strife, through hardship, through disagreement, never had I seen her so angry. So defensive. I had half the mind to be scared of what I triggered in her, but my fists clenched at my sides when I finally registered what she was accusing me of.

“Excuse me–?”

“You heard me,” she tightly crossed her arms again. “You make everything about you— so dramatic, some big scheme about someone who’s out to get you! Well guess what!? The whole bloody universe doesn’t revolve around you, Vi! But you just had to go behind my back, screw up a situation you couldn’t possibly begin to understand, and visit my parents for some stupid, selfish , mysterious reason!”

I scoffed. “I’m not selfi–!”

“You are, though! You’re protecting yourself when you know this could easily be over if you just told me what you were doing there!”

Shaking my head, my palm came to rub the sweat from my forehead and the tears from my cheeks. They were still leaking slowly out of my eyes, although I had managed to keep my voice steady enough not to sound small. 

“I’m not the one that lied, Caitlyn. I’m not the one who lied to her partner for years–”

“I was scared!”

“Of me?” I asked, eyebrows up and an incredulous, painful puff of laughter in my throat.

“No–!” she groaned. “No, Vi, I can’t—”

“Cait, just admit it! Admit you screwed up!”

“Shut up–! Just– just shut up!!”

Caitlyn’s voice mirrored her mother’s from only hours before and that shook something in me. Knocked the wind right out of me like I was fighting in the ring. Caitlyn looked overwhelmed too, both her hands going to rest on her head as she squeezed her eyes shut. Clearly thinking, the silence that quickly surrounded us became deafening, and she didn’t even seem to notice. Meanwhile I was choking on it, unable to breathe as a million thoughts swirled around in my head but none of them could make it to my mouth.

“Vi, listen…” Caitlyn sighed, now taking her own turn to rub her head, then smooth out her hair. “If you can’t just be mature and talk to me–” my nostrils flared. “--then I’m leaving.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” My face squished up with agitation and a twinge of confusion alike. But she only blankly stared at me to watch as realization slowly washed over me and my eyes widened. “What– you’re just gonna walk away? Without even attempting to fix it? After all we’ve been through together?”

Our voices were calmer now, no longer loud, but with no less venom.

“Sometimes it takes awhile for a person to really show you who they are,” Caitlyn responded. Cold. “We’re both adults, Vi. I’m focusing on my career, and I want to be with someone I can build my life with. Strong and sturdy. And I don’t want to waste my time.”

“So that’s it–?” My own attitude was accusatory, mean, angry, upset, but the implications of that statement made my chin quiver slightly.

“Unless you can be honest with me, Vi. Right here, right now.”

Her pools of blue were still glassy, sad, defensive, but something more. There was something else there that I couldn’t quite place. I wanted it to be guilt, and I was so sure why I did. Maybe to prove I was right in being mad, but that wouldn’t help the situation anyways. Caitlyn was a boulder, and a force to be reckoned with. Once she made up her mind, it was too late. I felt myself slowly slipping away as I opened my mouth but no words came out. I saw her letting go and hardening her resolve. It was almost as if her shoulders were rolled back and chest puffed out in a concrete, soldier manner with how strongly I knew her stubborn attitude was solidifying by the second.

“I’m not even the one who lied, Cait…” 

Pathetically, still somewhat irritated, but quickly dying, I managed that sentence out. If I had been given another chance, I thought about all the words I would’ve said instead. Many sleepless nights I laid there awake and staring at my ceiling full of regret, thinking about all the amazing one liners I could’ve delivered to maybe save the situation. A battle I lost the moment Caitlyn raised her voice.

Quiet time slipped us by as Caitlyn’s unmoving, unreadable face took in what I said. She was sure to hide how it affected her, but with how well I knew how to read her, I could still manage a few signals from the way she briefly looked away from me and sighed lightly though her nose. She was disappointed. Caitlyn still had her arms crossed, and her perfectly manicured nails scratched softly against her polyester shirt sleeves before she released the tension in another breath. Another decision was made in her head just then, the calculations done, and the numbers ran. It was then she regained eye contact, and it startled me.

I had never seen that look in her eyes before.

And I really hated it. 

“I’ll be going to London then,” she said, sure of tone and of herself, trying her best to deny the little bit of sadness I could still hear in her voice. When I tried to open my mouth to say something more, Caitlyn spoke first. “I think perhaps it’s for the best that I focus solely on my career… No more wasting time.” 

She sucked in a breath, almost like it was painful for even her to hear the words.

“Tonight– I can come back around tonight to pack.”

And when she finally looked away, I saw one more tear drip down her cheek, skidding along the skin and falling to the floor as she gazed downward. She brushed it away lightly with the tips of her fingers and sniffled one last time before she spared me one more glance, and disappeared.

“I’ll see you around, Vi.”

.

I came home one day to see Caitlyn rolling a final suitcase out the door.

There was a cab waiting for her, sitting in my usual parking spot, which forced me to park down the hill and walk up. Irritated, sweaty, it didn’t matter when we made eye contact.

We hadn’t spoken since the fight, and Caitlyn made sure those words would certainly be the final ones I’d hear from her. Because she held my stare with that icy cold look she used to distance herself from strangers. Her poker face. Mouth a thin line. Eyes drooped and relaxed, but calculated, and sharp.

She had walked the short path from our house to the sidewalk by the time I reached the taxi. I kept staring at her, pleading just with my look, but too afraid to speak. But she brushed past me and set her suitcase in the trunk before getting in the cab without another word.

I watched as it drove away, and I didn’t move until it disappeared into the distance.

.

“She what–?!”

“She just dumped me, ok? Not a big deal.”

“Vi, are you fuckin’ insane?” Powder raised her voice and knocked on my head. “I knew you had a few screws loose but I didn’t think this many…”

“Stop that,” I pushed her hand away by nudging her wrist and sighed through my nose.

I looked down at the styrofoam cup in my hands, ramen noodles that aren’t quite cooked through from the boiling water I poured in just a few minutes ago looking back. Powder slurped up her own bite full of noodles as she shifted around on her bed, making the both of us bob and sway with the give of the box spring.

Dorm rooms always had shitty, gross mattresses.

And this one was no exception.

“Vi, seriously, you have to give me more than that,” Powder spoke through her chewing with little regard to cover her mouth.

“We fought and we broke up, that’s it.”

“That can’t be it.”

“It is.”

Pause.

“No!”

“Yes, it is!”

“Vi!”

“What–?!”

“AUughh!” Powder groaned dramatically. “Talking to you is literally impossible sometimes.”

In a mood I side eyed her, and under my breath said, “Sorry.”

“No, c’mon, don’t be sorry. Be truthful,” she pleaded. “You guys were so in love it was sickening. I legitimately got nauseous around you… But you were so happy… what happened?”

I sighed, took one more bite of my ramen, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. 

“She got a job in London,” I shrugged.

“Uh-uh, do better,” Powder crossed her arms, dissatisfied with my answer. She clearly knew I was holding back on her, and her ability to read me so easily was infuriating. “What happened?” she repeated.

“Powder, I’m telling you, that’s it.”

“I’m starting to get insulted with how dumb you think I am right now.”

“She got a job, we fought about it, and she decided to leave and break it off so she could focus on her career. That’s. it.”

My sister grumbled something that was most likely an insult under her breath. Her hands on her arms tightened their grip a little before she forced the tension out of her body with a huff. She leaned over to look past me where a desk was facing the one and only window in the small room.

“Ekko!” she shouted, much louder than she needed to. “You hearin’ this shit?”

The boy at the desk was working, his back to us, but we could both hear the grin in his words.

“Oh, I’m hearin’ it.”

“And?” Powder asked.

Silence followed as Ekko lifted his head from whatever he was writing. Slowly, he closed his textbook, set down his pen, then turned around in the chair to regard us. He eyed me, like he needed to evaluate my body language or something. It pissed me off. I wanted to throw my hot styrofoam cup at him.

“I think,” he started, clasping his hands together, the tips of them lightly bumping the bottom of his nose as he brought them up to his face, as if to ponder and pause. But when he spoke next, he swiped his pressed together palms downwards. “It’s all bullshit.”

“Thank you!” my sister screamed, and I took my own chance to dramatically groan. 

“There’s gotta be more to the story than that, Vi, for real.”

“Right? That’s what I’m saying!”

I said nothing, I just scowled at them.

“I mean, fuck, I thought you guys were gonna get hitched. Breaking up due to long distance doesn’t make sense– especially because you already did it once,” Ekko started spouting off his analysis, Powder nodding enthusiastically next to me. 

The first part of his statement made the food in my gut turn sour and I grimaced slightly at the taste of irony in my mouth. It twisted and swirled uncomfortably, and I set my cup down on the nearby bedside table.

I’ll admit it. My story did have holes. My excuses were weak. But I didn’t care. I had told Powder because she’s my sister, and I tell her everything. It was a big life event, and I had to keep her posted. Granted I waited like, two weeks to even reach out and ask to hang out. I had been sitting in that empty, depressing hole of a house that whole time, and I desperately needed a change of scenery. 

So, Powder’s dorm it was. 

But now that Powder was informed, I really didn’t feel like explaining it further. It was like picking at a scab I knew I shouldn’t. Each time I just make it worse, making my knee bleed more and more until I’m sure I’ve picked off all the skin I can and I know that it’ll definitely leave a scar.

When I didn’t say anything more to their theorizing, they looked at me, a tad confused, a tad worried. They were pensive, suddenly more serious, as I’m sure I was just emitting an aura. A real fucking depressing one. 

I felt that gross, sour bile lurch in my stomach and I stood.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Stomach’s fucked.”

.

I came back to myself, unstuck myself from my memories when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Taking it out I saw Powder’s name on my screen, and just underneath it a mass amount of messages asking where I was, if I was okay. I wasn’t sure how long I had holed myself up in the bathroom, having finally found it.

I was quick to discard my most recent interaction with Caitlyn, the one where she was still in her dressing gown. Her hair was up, eyes smokey and cheeks rosy. The quiet refuge I found in the single person bathroom and behind a locked door was a welcome one, and I didn’t care that I, myself had makeup on when I washed my face in the sink with freezing water. I was just happy to have found space to calm my nerves, still my mind, solidify myself on Earth and in the moment. However successful I was, was yet to be seen, though. 

With another nagging text from my sister I stood from where I had slumped on the floor and straightened out my suit, rebuttoning it and smoothing out any superficial wrinkles. I messaged her back that I’d be there soon, and assured her she could go and find seats for us.

With one final glance to my reflection, a downtrodden expression written all over my face, I flung the bathroom door open with little care to any judgement that may befall my appearance.

It was now or never. 

Do or die. 

The beginning of the end.

Chapter Text

The day we met.

Well, what a day…

Technically, we met in college, just after a class. American Literature. I was there because I wanted to be, and she was there because it was a requirement for her major. It wasn’t a particularly large class, but not a small one either. I guess something about my appearance piqued her interest, because one day, just as the professor dismissed us, she caught up to me. She came bounding to me in a way that made her wild, red hair even crazier and hard not to look at. It looked so impossibly soft and fluffy, I can recall. I had the impulse to run my fingers through it, like when you see a cat or fuzzy blanket. But she rudely cut my daydreaming off by calling me ‘cupcake’ out of nowhere.

We spoke briefly as I was offended at her bold teasing and made my departure soon after. If she tried to follow me, she failed, as by the time I got to the stairwell I was alone.

But what I consider to be our real first meeting, was later that same day. 

I had a date that night with a girl I matched with on Bumble. She seemed nice, we had a few of the same interests, and she was very pretty. We chatted a bit, hit it off, then she invited me out. I suggested a local bar I was very quick to fall in love with, and we set a time and day to meet up. 

I showed up first, ever the early bird, and managed to snag a table in the busy atmosphere.

At that point I had only been to The Last Drop a couple of times, but each time I had a splendid evening. I even liked their beer. And I hate beer. Something about the history of the place fascinated me. I heard rumblings from the regulars about how the owner converted the basement into an apartment and took in so many kids that people started to joke he should open an orphanage. And apparently, he did. I wasn’t sure which one, I hadn’t done any research into the place. Not yet, at least. One thing I particularly loved was that it was pretty unknown, too. It wasn’t a popular spot for the college kids to go and get wasted and leave a mess behind. Most of the people there were old gruff men and their wives, betting on arm wrestling matches or playing pool on one of the two tables in the corner. The fact that the place always played good music was a plus too.

I didn’t mind waiting alone at the table. There was a fun amount of chaos going on around me that I thoroughly enjoyed being surrounded by. It was always fun to be the fly on the wall in such places, just to observe and experience a new way of life. That was part of the reason I was abroad in the first place. I wanted to see more of the world, the real world, not just the shiny glitter of the British upper class. 

I hadn’t noticed that ten minutes past our agreed time had passed until I checked my phone. But I shrugged it off and stayed put, worried about losing the table if I got up to order a drink at the bar. And then another ten minutes passed, and then another twenty. 

I had sent several messages that were left unanswered, and after the fifth and final one, I finally admitted to myself that I was clearly being stood up. People probably noticed too. One girl sitting alone at a table in a bar with no drink? How much more obvious could it get? But I just hoped everyone was too far gone to fully notice my embarrassing predicament. Simply, I sighed, disappointed, and moved to get my cardigan that I had draped over the back of my chair. Though, before I could fully turn or even grab the damn thing, a voice suddenly caught my attention.

“What’s a nice place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

The same fluffy red hair greeted me first, then two silver grey eyes fiercely looking me over, and finally two cold drinks in her hands. I quirked a smile before I could even think, catching the movie reference she threw at me, and I responded despite how irritated she made me only hours earlier.

“Deadpool,” I said, and the woman dramatically let out what seemed like a sigh of relief. She sat one of the drinks in front of me, and then the other at the chair just across the table where she went to take her own seat.

“Thank god , someone with taste .”

“I take it you are fond of the Deadpool franchise?”

The redhead slumped back against her chair nonchalantly, draping her arm over the back of it. Her other hand was fidgeting with the condensation on her own glass before she took hold of the handle again and swirled what looked to be some kind of beer around in it.

“Who isn’t?” she asked.

“I hate to burst your bubble,” I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “But I think they’re rather overrated to be honest.”

She paused, a fairly neutral expression still on her face, but her eyebrows raised slightly in consideration of my words. She sighed again, but this time not in relief, in disappointment. Despite that, she still returned my smile with her next sentence.

“Then I think we’re gonna have a problem here.” 

.

We became quick friends, despite how our original meeting in the school hallway had gone.

She insisted on the ‘Cupcake’ nickname, much to my distaste. I think it felt belittling, patronizing. It felt akin to when a man called a woman ‘babydoll’ or ‘sweetheart.’ But I was very quick to learn that Vi was unlike any man I’d ever met. 

She used nicknames, no matter what they were, as serious terms of endearment. Perhaps she’d tease you with them at first, but I gleaned that when she did that, it was a test. She wanted to know how you’d react to a stranger being a bit of a prick, a flirt, a douchebag for lack of a better term. Because it did have that aforementioned frat boy vibe to it. 

But after that first night she saved me from being stood up, and she actually took the time to use my real name in favor of her little joke, I could see the good in her. I especially saw what nicknames meant to her after I met her sister for the first time, who had several titles to her name given to her by her big sister. That was a huge compliment, I had learned, when such a force gave you multiple endearing labels. It was as if she was officially accepting you into her life when she did that. You were worth keeping around, so she named you, much like a little kid finding a stray and deciding to keep it.

She hardly viewed the people in her life as objects, or strays she gained ownership of, but when trying to explain her reasoning behind why she liked nicknames so much, that was all she could come up with. She laughed at herself and said she’d let me know when she came up with a better analogy. But I understood. 

If you pass the test, you get to keep the love she’s bestowed onto you. And what more of an honor is that? Nothing, I can say. Absolutely nothing at all. 

I could tell she caught feelings rather quickly, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t mutual. And maybe this was evil of me, maybe it was revenge for the ‘Cupcake’ thing (like I even wanted revenge in the first place), but I kind of did a thing. Mostly because I thought it was kind of funny. 

But I waited for her to ask me out first. 

Powder told me how suave she usually was, how she could get any girl she wanted to come home with her with just a few words and a wink over her shoulder. How insufferable it all was. How nauseating it was to see from a little sister’s perspective. But she laughed openly with me about how nervous I seemed to make Vi. We bonded over it in the beginning actually. She confirmed I wasn’t going crazy and that Vi did in fact have a crush on me as well, which gave my ego a bit too much of a boost. I was able to control it though. It just felt good to know I made such a force of nature so timid. It was a feat to be proud of.

There was no other word for it than adorable. I could see her second-guessing herself in real time. Unsure if patting my shoulder after a joke was too much, or if her stumbling over her words was embarrassing. But her careful calculations to my boundaries and interests only made her more endearing to me. With each day we spent together, I was more and more sure that this girl was the one for me. She encouraged me out of my comfort zone, but never forced me, and held my hand the entire way. She supported my ideas, took genuine interest in what I had to say, and valued my opinions. She made me feel heard, listened to, cared for, even just in a friendship capacity. And I longed to know what it would mean to receive that kind of attention in a romantic sense as well. 

After a while, despite the fact I was letting her be the one to ask me out first, I was getting a little antsy. I wanted to take that step so badly, and it was getting hard to sit still. So, to keep to my evil goal but also release some of that temptation, I decided it was time to really kick the flirting up a notch. Perhaps it would help encourage her, right?

And I laid it on thick too. I messed with her any chance I got. 

In a place that remotely had any kind of noise, when she’d say something, I’d feign hard of hearing and lean in, resting my hand on her shoulder or knee as I did so while saying in my most innocent voice: “What’d you say?”

I took every chance I could to tuck hair that had fallen out of place behind her ear, pick an eyelash off her cheek then ask her to make a wish, or wipe away food off the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Each time her expression was priceless, and on several instances, I felt her lean into it, making my own face hot in return. 

There were a few times we went out together with several more friends. We’d be a little tipsy, and I’d catch Vi people watching. I’d tease her, taking it as an opportunity to ask if she was looking for her next lay. She’d sputter with surprise every time and make up the excuse that she was doing no such thing, and even if she was, no one there really seemed like her type. When I’d ask her what her type was, she’d choke on her drink again and give me some vague, safe answer while not making eye contact. But when she thought she was being clever in asking me the same question back, I’d be sure to say how weak I was for a muscled woman with tattoos. 

On those same nights, several drinks in, we’d dance closer than maybe was appropriate for two women who were just friends. 

So many times, she played the role of caretaker, letting me crash at her apartment when mine was too far to walk and no one had cash for a cab. She was always sure to get me the bin and a bottle of water, as well as aid me in taking my makeup off. Anytime this happened, I always made a quip about how much of a gentleman she was, taking care of his damsel in distress. With a face to match her hair, she’d cough and remark about how I was hardly in distress, and nothing like a helpless damsel. 

Eventually though, after a truly ridiculous amount of pining, it happened. 

She caught me walking outside in between classes on a sidewalk next to one of campus’ many parking lots. I had my earbuds in, and I was tuned out of the world, thinking about taking a nap before my evening lecture. I was startled when I felt someone grab my shoulder, and I quickly snatched the wrist of the culprit, twisting it in an awkward way as I turned around. But I let go quickly once realizing it was Vi who seemed to pop up out of nowhere. She winced and exclaimed “Ow! Ow! Mercy!” and I let go, profusely apologizing as she took her arm back and rubbed her wrist with a chuckle. 

“It’s alright, Cupcake,” she had said while I hurriedly removed my earbuds. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

I chuckled a little back, just relieved she was okay and not upset. “Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really expecting you, either.”

“Touché,” Vi conceded, shrugging as she put her hands in her jacket pockets.

An awkward bit of silence spread over us, and it was only then that I noticed the soft rumbling of an engine from across the lot next to us. I followed the noise to just over Vi’s shoulder, seeing a car in the distance that I recognized as her sister’s. And sure enough, there was Powder, just barely visible at this distance in the driver's seat. She was watching us, and upon making eye contact with me she smiled, winked, and gave me a double thumbs up. 

Okay, I see what’s happening now.

Vi was fidgeting with her fingers inside her pockets, a habit she picked up when she had something on her mind. She wasn’t making eye contact, and she cleared her throat a few times in a row softly. Just before she could muster the strength though, I took the liberty of breaking the silence that looked to be slowly killing her.

“Did you need something?” I asked, properly folding up my earbuds to tuck away in my own pants pockets.

“Yes, actually, I uh–” Vi started, uncharacteristically fumbling over her own words. “Did Jayce tell you about his little shindig tomorrow?”

Yes, in fact he had.  

A “small” party, one that was likely to turn huge knowing him, to watch the university football team game that either let them qualify for nationals or fail and die of embarrassment in front of the whole school (in Jayce’s words). He invited me along, actually begged me, saying I didn’t get out enough. But he was merely pouting because I had been cooped up studying for finals that were quickly approaching and refused his last few offers to party with him. To tell the truth, it would’ve been nice to get out and socialize, but I knew the type of people this gathering would attract, and I didn’t really feel like dealing with that sort of energy.

“He mentioned it,” I lied a little, curious to see where Vi was going to take this. “Are you going?”

“He invited me,” Vi nodded. “And originally, I wasn’t really thinking I was gonna go. Too many meatheads who think they know a thing or two about athletics because they go to game viewing parties.”

I smiled at that. I knew Vi was quite the athlete herself and had to deal with men trying to tell her how to do things they knew nothing about all the time. Whether it be at the gym, in the classroom, or at parties, someone always had something to say. But it was always satisfying to watch Vi beat down those pompous egos by besting them in an arm wrestle or plain dropping more facts about how professionals trained or how to really gain muscle that they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Their mouths would be agape in the face of (what they thought was) a tiny, fragile woman who knew nothing about sports and couldn’t possibly beat them in any way. The smug smirk on her face when she demolished those narcissistic fucks was just plain attractive, not to mention. 

Her ego never felt disgusting, but maybe that was the lesbian in me talking.

“But,” she continued, drawing out the word a little as she swayed on her feet to the cadence of her delivery. “I thought to myself, maybe it wouldn’t be half as bad if I had some company come along with me. Y’know, the kind who can help me come up with some damn good insulting comebacks and be my partner in the inevitable beer pong game I get roped into.” 

She flashed those wide, pleading eyes up at me for the briefest of moments to punctuate her point before regaining that neutral expression that showed the faintest of smiles and eyes that said she knew something you didn’t (whether that was actually true or not). But I knew she was still hiding those nerves that were there not too long ago. How she managed to get out what she wanted to say so smoothly, and seemingly according to her plan must’ve calmed them quite a bit, which was a disappointment on my end. I loved seeing her nervous. But her confidence, like I said earlier, was equally as enticing. So really, I had nothing to complain about.

“Is that so?” I asked, clearly amused, clearly aware of what she was insinuating. She hummed and nodded happily to my question in response. “And who would be up to the challenge, do you think?”

“I was thinking, picture this,” Vi took her hands out of her pockets to splay them out in front of her, using them to aid in her words. “Me, looking sexy as fuck,” she grinned at me when she saw me roll my eyes with my own equally as wide smile. “And on my arm, as my date, an absolutely stunning woman, legs for days, wits to match, and let’s say… oh, dark hair, maybe blue eyes, perhaps a cute little gap tooth in there too just for the hell of it.”

I raised my eyebrow, and Vi’s conviction wavered a little at seeing that, and I saw the doubt that maybe her words overstepped a line start to swarm her eyes. But I wouldn’t let that fester, as the way she was doing this in such a roundabout way was simply enchanting.

“A tall dark-haired woman as your date?” I repeated and my friend kept her composure brilliantly. Really, only I could see those microscopic hints of doubt and insecurity, and vice versa, solely because of how much time we’ve spent together. 

“You know anyone like that?” she asked, the grin on her face revealing the points of her oddly sharp canines. 

“I might.”

“Really?” Vi’s own eyebrows raised.

“I’ll have her text you,” a giggle bubbled up my throat at Vi’s clearly pleased demeanor. 

“Great,” she sighed, most likely of relief. “Great, that’s… that’s uh– great. Thanks.”

“Of course,” I responded, feeling the natural end of our conversation, and turning on my foot to gracefully exit, meanwhile leaving Vi stunned in my wake. Yet another terrible boost to my ego. However, by the time I fully turned around and took my first step, I heard the woman sputter loudly behind me like she had forgotten to say something.

“Sspbbhht–uh–! Uhm–” she called after me, a hand up like it was asking me to wait when I turned to regard her again. “Sorry uh– just–”

“Yes?” I asked, amused at those nerves poking through again what was so recently a smooth flirt, yet equally curious as to what she needed to say.

“You– You know that I’m talking about you… right–?”

My entire body deflated with a sense of endearment for this girl, swelling with understanding and a feeling of needing to hug and comfort her. 

“Like– you being the tall, dark-haired lady– woman– that’s like, my… date. So, you– you being the woman, and being… my date…”

I could feel her senses backfiring in the barrel and how fried her brain must be after exerting so much mental energy to finally take the leap she’d been avoiding for a while now. I was proud, happy, elated even, and she seemed it too, but also seemed desperate for me to know exactly what she meant. Like she couldn’t afford a miscommunication. Otherwise, it might just make her want to submit and never leave the comfort of her bed again. I walked back to her, that one step I took away, and used one of my previous moves to my advantage. I swept a strand of bright hair from where it had been hanging in between those wide eyes and lightly combed it back into the rest of her hair that flowed in the direction behind her ear. I let my fingers trail there as I spoke next.

“Yes, darling, don’t worry… I’m really elated you asked, actually.”

Vi let out another breath of relief yet seemed to tense at the realization of what I had just called her. Admittedly it was an accident. But now that I saw what kind of face it rewarded me, I wasn’t ever going to stop now. Before she could speak, I said one more thing. 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

.

One morning, early in our dating timeline, I had overslept. But that was okay for a weekend, namely because I had spent the night at Vi’s apartment. Small as it was, I didn’t care. It was so homey and full of personality. Everything was comfortable, and I especially mean her mattress. She had this large comforter that totally enveloped you, made you feel safe and protected. It was the kind of blanket that could keep the monsters away should you hide underneath it. I stirred under that blanket but found myself alone. 

I heard the clinking of dishes, the pop of her toaster, then the beep of her coffee machine. 

It took her a while to finally admit she purchased the last of that list solely because I was a caffeine addict, and she didn’t want my usual morning routine to be disrupted anytime I spent the night. I tried to pay her back for it, seeing as it was practically only for me, but she refused, insisting there were other ways I could pay her back. She’d flashed that signature smirk at me after that statement, and when realization struck, I laughed and swatted at her arm. I scolded her for her crass indication, but she’d merely say: 

“Yeah, but you love me for it.”

I slid from under the heavy blanket and made my way to Vi’s small kitchen, but one no less filled to the brim with love and passion. She had a chaotic way of organizing things, but it was her system and  watching her move about the space like second nature swelled something like pride in my chest. I loved seeing her like that. Relaxed, doing something she enjoyed. I couldn’t help myself each morning when I found her awake before me but to sneak up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. 

Sometimes she’d be so in her own world she’d startle a bit, but she always settled into the embrace. But now it was something she often expected. I rested my chin on her shoulder and sighed as I felt her body fit perfectly against mine– like two puzzle pieces. She lulled her head back to rest against my own shoulder and hummed, stirring something in the pan she had at the stove.

“What’s on the menu this morning?” I asked, already knowing Vi was preparing such a thing for the both of us. I often told her she didn’t have to do that, but again, she insisted. It wasn’t a surprise to me when I later learned one of Vi’s love languages was acts of service. 

“Scrambled eggs and toast. Nothing too world-shattering,” she responded, and I heard the spatula scrape against the pan as she turned over said eggs. I had my eyes closed as I continued to rest against Vi’s back, still groggy. I mumbled something in response that didn’t form proper words, and Vi chuckled. “Still sleepy there, cupcake?”

“Mmmmmm,” I let out a long hum, one that made Vi vibrate with another bubble of soft laughter. “Do you think you can put cheese in my eggs with yours this time?”

“Feeling adventurous today, are we?” I’m sure she could feel my smile grow against where I nuzzled into her neck. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Thank you…” my words disappeared floating into the morning air and against her warm skin. I inhaled, relishing in the familiar scent of Vi’s body wash and natural musk. Something Earthy, but warm, like rain-soaked fields basking in intense sunlight. 

She turned her head to mutter her response against my hair. “Don’t mention it,” and she finished the sentiment with a kiss to the side of my head. 

.

The years of total and absolute bliss with Vi felt like I was in a dream. We were dreaming together for ages, living in a bubble of our own making, and neither of us were prepared for it to suddenly rupture, and our entire world to come crumbling to the ground.

.

Something inside me shattered when I saw her face.

I placed my final suitcase in the cab, Vi just standing there, having come up the hill from where she parked. I could see a sheen of sweat on her brow, a heavy breath through her nostrils, and she was staring at me so intensely I swore it bore a hole in my skull. They were pleading, begging, so sad, but I lacked the decency to recognize it then. The fury you feel in your chest at the sensation of betrayal was consuming me, rotting me from the inside. Because that’s what I felt. 

Betrayed. 

I was stubborn. I am stubborn. But to a fault, and it showed its ugly head in this lack of an exchange more so than it ever had in my entire life. Jayce guffawed at me when I told him how I didn’t even say goodbye. And he was such a good friend for taking my shit when I got mad at him for seemingly “taking Vi’s side” in the whole situation. I had made my stance, and it was too late to backtrack. I had to defend myself and my decisions but admitting that maybe I was wrong gnawed at the back of my mind all the while. I wanted to ignore it, wanted to justify my actions, tell myself I was right to be mad at her. That I was wise to focus on my career more than some silly college relationship. 

I grew cynical, trying to convince myself that we would’ve broken up anyways even without the fight. I had been living in a fantasy for too long, and now it was time to wake up and do some hard work for once. 

.

I grew downtrodden in my new job. The first several months I spent alone, often sleeping at my desk, forgetting to eat, missing the sun on my skin. I couldn’t allow my mind to be led astray. That was dangerous territory, and I was keen to avoid it. I thought of nothing else but work in the beginning, holding onto it like a lifeline.

When I finally managed to pull myself out of my dark hole of an apartment in London and force myself to start having a social life outside of work, I quite quickly and literally bumped into Victoria. 

Her hair was warm and thick, freckles dotted her face, and she had kind eyes. The night we met I was entirely too drunk in a bar and alone. All the rest of my friends bailed earlier in the night to go home because they were tired or had early mornings. 

Fucking amateurs. 

But I was bitter. I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself, but I kept lashing out. I could hardly help myself. It was when I ran into the kind soul that was Victoria, and she managed to get me home safe and sound, made sure I had my bin, made sure to get me water, and tucked me in, that I felt a sense of home. A sense of familiarity. When I opened my groggy, drunken eyes, I saw someone else. Someone I wanted to see but never wanted to see again at the same time. And I selfishly reached out to her to be taken care of, because I longed for it. Because I wanted her there. But she wasn’t. And I didn’t have the guts to admit it was all my fault, not yet. 

.

The next morning after my party (parties to be exact) I couldn’t remember much. What I remembered first was her lips on my forehead, and the fond smile that crept along my face as I heard my bedroom door quietly thump closed. She must’ve thought I was asleep, as I always did fall asleep quickly, but not that time. I was awake. I felt how her weight shifted with her uncertainty, how she leaned in, and softly, with those chapped, broken lips, kissed my head. She whispered her congratulations to me, with a hint of what I wanted to be sadness. Selfish of me, wasn’t it? For me to want her to be sad that I was getting married. Why was that?

Why did I feel any type of way now?

Why did I feel so undeniably safe wrapped up in her embrace again? When she protected me from the cold, like she tried to protect everyone she cared about. Her heart was still so large, never minding how clearly uncomfortable she was (something I could tell in the moment but now regret causing in the first place looking back on it with a sober mind), she just put my need for warmth over that. Her hands on my back felt just as strong and warm as I remembered, and it was like all of a sudden, we were back in our old kitchen. 

We had an island, with stools, and I recall fondly how Vi fawned over them, remarking that she had never seen a kitchen so large or fancy. She seemed rather excited about the extra counter space, giving her ample room for when she wanted to make big meals. 

I often encouraged her to go back to school perhaps. If she really wanted to. Maybe for cooking, as seeing her experiment in that kitchen inspired even the likes of me to begin to learn. I had never really had a knack for it, but she made me want to be a part of it, want to understand it. Simply, I just wanted to be around her more and not be in the way of what she was trying to do. She’d complain that I was never a bother, never in her way, always a welcome distraction if anything at all. But I wanted to remain useful, so she taught me the basics. 

It became a habit of mine to make breakfast for us, a chance for me to practice and get critiqued by my teacher at the same time. But she never really did critique me. She’d just tuck in and kiss me while her mouth was still full. It was always some form of eggs and toast, maybe oatmeal, yogurt, fruit, or on very ambitious days, waffles and pancakes. She had yet to teach me her secrets to the perfect French toast. We never got the chance. In fact, it was the next morning after our fight that we agreed we’d take the time to try it out together. But that morning I woke up on Mel’s couch. An old college friend who knew better the complicated inner workings of all kinds of relationships and respected privacy more than most. She could tell I didn’t want to talk, and so she didn’t push me. 

I was grateful for that.

.

“...Violet and Powder Lane?”

“Vi,” I corrected.

She only lets people close to her call her Violet.

“I spelled it out for the address and postage.”

“I see,” Victoria was looking over my shoulder where I sat. She had come up to me at my desk where I was diligently stuffing each envelope with a wedding invite, then writing the names and addresses on the back. I suppose she was checking up on the progress, and I felt her hand drift onto my shoulder and give a loving squeeze. “Correct me if I’m wrong, dear, but isn’t that…?”

I knew the question. She didn’t have to finish it. Even though she let the words hang in the air with a tone of inquiry, we both knew exactly what she was trying to say.

“Yes,” I confirmed, not looking up, holding onto the envelope and staring at the names like I could burn them away with my gaze. “So?”

There was a pause from behind me, and I could sense how she noticed my tension and was deciding the best way to navigate the conversation. Sometimes I wished she wouldn’t. Sometimes I wished she would just spit out whatever it was she was thinking, instead of trying to spare my feelings. But perhaps that was unfair of me to accuse her of being a yes-man. I can’t blame her for wanting to avoid an argument, or even a small spat, as I was rather unforgiving during such moments. I had learned such a fact in the worst moment of my life, and the five years that followed it. My tongue was venomous, and an ugly side I was unaware of came out– no one liked to see it, myself included. 

“It’s not that you can’t invite whomever you like, because you can,” she dared forward into the conversation with a tangible sense of caution. “But what exactly brought on wanting to invite her?”

I still hadn’t moved, my body nor my eyes, and my fingers tightened slightly where I was holding onto the offending paper. But finally, I set it down with a twap and moved to begin preparing the next invite.

“They’re old friends,” I deflected, lying through my teeth. “I doubt they’ll come anyways. They’re all the way in the States still.”

Victoria hummed behind me, understanding of more than I wanted her to be, but she let it rest. She knew I was disingenuous. She knew I didn’t have a real answer.

Why did I want Vi to come?

Why did it feel wrong to exclude her?

Why, on what was supposed to be the best day of my life, did I want to see her face?

.

I had gone to the bathroom just to freshen up. Coming straight from work left little time to prepare for the dinner party. One my mother wanted more than I did, if I’m being honest. It was nice to see the family, albeit a good chunk of them I hardly recognized. We didn’t see much of each other, most of them being spread across the world for different business type reasons. But they all smiled, gave me an awkward hug, and thanked me for the invite. They were all kind. And they all got dangerously tipsy dangerously quickly. I didn’t let it bother me though, as it wasn’t so boisterous as to gather attention from other patrons of the restaurant. I was just happy to be sitting with my parents, relieved we made it so far without more resistance. They had come a long way since the beginning of it all, but a part of me always carried that worried caution. I never fully trusted it, this new calm, this new acceptance. It was a survival instinct I hadn’t quite let go of no matter how hard I tried. 

No matter how much trouble it’s gotten me into before.

The bun on top of my head was giving me a migraine. It had been since that morning, and it lasted all the way through the staff meeting that I just barely managed to finish in time for me to speed to my own bachelorette party. ‘Party’ being a word that’s used lightly. 

I didn’t have time to redo my hair, just enough to change into my dress in one of the bathrooms on campus, touch up my lipstick, and make it there just before it would’ve been rude to show up. I earned a disapproving glare from my mother, one I knew well, but therefore could brush off my shoulder like dust. Every speech she gave me about the importance of being early, especially as the hostess, was ingrained in my brain. She was smart enough to know that, and luckily didn’t press it further. We hugged, and I hugged my father as well, him giving me a sweet kiss to the cheek and a compliment on his tongue.

When I excused myself to go to the bathroom not long after sitting, I just wanted to take the time to make sure I actually looked presentable. I was in such a rush before and the lighting in the campus restrooms weren’t exactly stellar. So, just to make sure my makeup wasn’t smudged, and I had no odd bumps of hair that was supposed to be laid flat before twisting into that godforsaken bun, I gazed at myself in that mirror for way too long. But once satisfied, I washed my hands (it felt odd to visit the restroom without doing so much as that), dried them off, smoothed out my blue dress, and exited back out into the real world. My heels thunked on the solid ground and I cursed myself for picking taller ones than I normally wore. I knew I was going out later with some friends I had made not too long after the move back to London, and I wanted to doll myself up a little. Wear things I didn’t always wear. The dress was one, the heels were another. I could hear their voices in my head laughing as I tried them on for the first time and I struggled to find my footing. I swore I’d get it down some day, and I supposed that time was tonight. But no matter the happy memory attached to them, it was indeed no cake walk. I was, however, able to make it back to the table without any incident. 

My footsteps stopped so quickly though once red hair came into view.

Unnatural, red, bright, messy, thick hair. It looked to be attempted to be coaxed into a neater position, but it was still just as disobedient as ever. It looked longer, and I noticed the typical half and half I was used to had become a full head, with the shaved bits much more subtle on each side. It was the first thing I saw, just those little spikes sticking up in odd directions. The same ones that would tickle my nose in the morning when she’d still be holding onto me while stuck in a dream. It made me smile to myself, subconsciously, just for a split second, before I realized that red hair wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Oh–” I choked out, startled to have been thrown back into reality and that red mop of hair still be there. I was all the more startled when the subject turned around and familiar steel eyes met my own. 

“...Caitlyn.”

She said my name. She said my name.

It was Vi. She was here. 

What on Earth was she doing here? In London? In this restaurant? Next to my chair? 

A million thoughts and questions swirled around in my head, but I was furious. I was simply incensed that this woman hadn’t appeared to change in all this time. I still found her face so kind, round, and beautiful. I still wanted to count those freckles, trace that tattoo on her cheek with my fingers. Like she was stuck in time, pulled from dreams I tried to force myself to forget, and so rudely showed up here when I was least expecting it.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not yet. She RSVP’d to the wedding. The wedding was tomorrow. Not now. She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I’m not ready. I wasn’t prepared for this. I had it all planned out. All prepared in my head, what I was going to say, what I was going to do. But she just had to show up here, without a word, so out of the blue, so impulsively. How impulsive is this of her? I can’t believe she’s still so careless and unexpected. I can’t believe she hasn’t changed. How so absolutely rude of her to surprise me like this, to toy with my emotions like this, to make it impossible to speak.

To still be such a beauty.

.

My heart felt like it had pounded its way out of its cage in my ribs and fallen into the pits of my stomach. They say it's normal to be nervous on your wedding day, to get the slight tingle of cold feet, or the anxious laughter that just won’t go away. But people often cite it to be one of the best days of their lives too. 

If you were to ask me what the best day of my life was thus far, I’d tell you it was the day some random, rash redhead called me Cupcake. 

Not the day Victoria proposed, not the day my mother apologized, not the day I got my dream job.

Instead, it’s the day I met her .

And staring at myself, clad in an expensive wedding dress of not even my own choosing, something felt oh-so wrong. I shouldn’t have that memory locked away as my best. Not when I was just about to get married to a different wonderful, beautiful woman. My final thoughts before taking those vows should not be on the what ifs with someone else. What could have been. What will never be. And all because of myself.

“ Oh , my dear, you just look positively stunning.”

My mother approached, I guess having entered the room while I was lost in my own thoughts. I saw her over my shoulder in the mirror, hands clasped in front of her face like she couldn’t contain her excitement. She did pick the dress after all. I would hope she’d be happy with it.

“You think?” I scrunched my nose, forcing myself back down to Earth to take part in conversation.

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, reaching for my veil and adjusting it slightly. “You look just like I pictured you would. Regal, elegant, dignified, gorgeous.”

I tightly smiled at her reflection, and she warmly returned it, continuing to fuss over small details and creases on the dress. It was backless with a deep dip, sashes from the front wrapping lightly around my arms to form a sudo sleeve of sorts. It flowed to the ground to make a long train, one that my veil would beat, probably besting Princess Diana’s in length too. It was ridiculously heavy and already was giving me a headache just standing there with it pinned into my bun for less than ten minutes. My head throbbed with a beat matching my heart in my gut, and briefly I closed my eyes to hide from the fluorescents of the bridal suite. 

“You’re all ready, sweetheart,” my mother’s voice forced my eyes open as she placed both her hands on my shoulders. We looked at each other in the mirror again for a moment, her still smiling, me just trying to get my bearings. “Ceremony’s starting, and your audience awaits.”

She softly chuckled to herself and kissed my cheek, albeit lightly so as to not leave a deep red stain on my face. And I almost hesitated, almost asked her to wait, almost stuttered and begged her to stay with me for just a bit longer. But she was out the door to walk the aisle before I could even watch her go. When my father entered the room only a few seconds later, my lungs reinflated, and I sighed with such a large amount of relief. 

“Father,” I said, breathlessly. He looked like he was going to compliment me, like most people often do just out of habit when they see a bride. But I stopped him before he could even get there. “Were you scared when you and mum got married?”

My father scoffed at himself, a hand going to lay over his heart. 

“I was certainly nervous. It’s not for the faint of heart, marrying into the Kiramman family.”

I looked up at him as he took my hands in his, that ever present warm smile on his face bringing me more comfort than I thought I needed. 

“Marriage is a large change, but at its root, it's nothing more than reassurance. Wonderful reassurance that the one you love will do everything in their power to make you happy for the rest of your lives.” He sighed, looking away for a moment as if he were somewhere else, but soon regained eye contact. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Caitlyn, I promise.”

Merely I nodded and squeezed his hands, not letting go, and sucking in a sharp breath as I heard the organ begin to play down the hall. It echoed so widely I could feel it in my cramped toes squished in my heels. My whole body shook with it for a moment, and I attempted to steel myself. But my father took me out of the moment, disrupting the process with a question that only made me even more nervous.

“Caitlyn? Are you alright?”

Chapter Text

I was quick to find Powder in the sea of Brits. Not many of them seemed to have quite as bright of hair as we did, making us stick out like sore thumbs. But we had been used to that, enjoying our unnatural hair since we were kids. 

She waved me over, having snagged some seats in the center of one of two sections on either side of the aisle. We were on the right side.

I sat down with a huff and slapped my hands down onto my legs as I stared at my shoes.

“Everything okay?” Powder asked, nudging me slightly with her elbow. But I didn’t look up at her when I responded.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“...Alright,” she didn’t sound convinced, clearly doubting me, but I didn’t have the energy to care. 

Simply, I stayed put, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes for a few seconds to breathe. I was rebooting my brain, trying to remind myself that everything was alright, that I wasn’t bleeding or dying, and neither was anyone around me. I sucked in air through my nose and let it go through my mouth, trying but failing to subtly calm the nerves that started to spike in my fingertips as I suddenly felt myself starting to be pulled back to reality. 

Whatever mindset I had put myself in to protect my heart and brain alike was starting to wear off, and the truth of my position and of the situation started to crash down all around me. Breathing suddenly became harder, and my hands trembled, but I focused on keeping the anxiety at bay, recalling old tips from my days in therapy. It helped. And I kept my eyes closed for a bit longer as I continued to steady my breathing. But behind my eyelids were images, ones I didn’t give my mind the consent to show me. Ones familiar, of memories from just the day before.

How Caitlyn looked in that blue dress, how she hugged me so tightly for warmth, how she held and kissed my hand, and my blurred vision as I later cried my eyes out on the hotel bathroom floor. Even then I could feel her eyes on me, see her lips moving as she spoke, how her hands moved with grace, and her long legs taking wide strides that I often couldn’t keep up with in my nightmares. She’d strut away from me, never looking back, never thinking twice. She’d get into a cab and disappear, until one day when she decided to jump scare me for a reason I was still struggling to understand. 

These pictures in my mind of a beautiful woman. The one that broke my heart, broke my very being, that I hated for feeling dependent on. I had just fixed myself up, figured out how to live without her and be happy, when she decided to show up again and wreck everything.

I had half the mind to be mad at her for it, but I couldn’t be.

Despite how I had grown and changed within the past five years, how I learned to care and love for myself, that didn’t change how much I loved that frustrating woman. I was independent. I was. Always have been. But when I was with Caitlyn, I slowly learned what it meant to be taken care of for once, and she cradled my heart in her hands alone. And I let her. 

I should be able to hold my own heart, and her hands should be there for support, not as a necessity. 

But I was young, still learning how to even be loved in the first place, and it left me vulnerable to pain. To betrayal. 

I had worked so hard. So hard. Cried too many tears. Worried my sister too much. And I was finally happy, finally able to comfortably and confidently hold onto my own heart with care. I could make myself joyful. I could depend on myself for anything I needed, albeit still learning and growing, as we ought to all our lives. 

I was scared that Caitlyn might snatch my heart away from me, and that dependency would bloom in me again. I didn’t want to let myself be handled completely by another person, and I didn’t want to put that responsibility on them either. But when I saw her again, truly saw her, talked with her in the privacy of her bedroom and the booze let her own layers of insecurity wash away, I realized something. 

Despite the hurt, the pain, I still wanted her there. I wanted to feel her hands on my heart again, but not alone. Not again. I wanted them to cup underneath where I had my heart in my palms. Feel the warmth of her skin in contact with mine, the promise that if I needed it, she’d be there. 

That reassurance.  

I wanted it so badly. But Caitlyn had to be willing to give that support, and Caitlyn made her choice when she decided to say ‘yes’ to Victoria on the day she proposed. 

I suddenly questioned if I was a masochist, sitting in the crowd of family and friends at my ex’s wedding. The ex I was still in love with. Why did I torture myself like this? Why did I want to see her seal her vows with a kiss to another woman? Why?  

My hands started shaking again in earnest, and I felt myself beginning to spiral. A mixture of confusion, of painful love, anguish, and sadness washed over me all at once and I could hardly stand it.

I wasn’t breathing anymore. No . I couldn’t be.

How the fuck did I get here?

Was I drugged?

Am I still drunk?

Is this a dream?

As I looked around all I saw was white .

Hanging, dangling orchids and flowers draped the overhanging loft balconies of the second floor, ribbons lacing its banister. The chairs had soft cushions for your back and behind, creamy and duller in color. Heels click-clacked against perfectly polished bright marble floors as guests went to find their last-minute seats. Even everyone here had white teeth.

White.

White.

White.