Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I used to love the stars. Mom and I would sit outside for hours, wrapped up in blankets, pointing out constellations she swore she could name but always got wrong. I didn’t care. She could’ve told me the moon was made of cheese, and I’d have believed her.

Now, they’re just dots. Cold. Distant. Mocking.

I lean back on the hood of my car—a rust bucket held together by duct tape and spite—and let the cigarette dangle loosely between my fingers. I don’t even like smoking, not really. But the bitter taste fills the silence when my head gets too loud, and the smoke gives my hands something to do when I can’t stop shaking.

I take a drag, the ember burning brighter in the dark, and let my eyes wander over the sky. I try to picture it how she used to describe it—full of stories and magic—but all I see are pinpricks in a void, like someone poked holes in the fabric of the universe and forgot to patch them up.

I wonder if she’d be proud of me. Probably not. Eighteen—almost nineteen—and stuck in senior year while everyone else is out there living their lives. I bet she’d say something optimistic, though, like, “It’s never too late to shine, sweetie.” But it is too late. It’s always too late.

The wind picks up, carrying the smell of rain and freshly cut grass. For a moment, it feels like she’s here. Like if I close my eyes, I’ll hear her laugh, or feel her hand brushing the hair out of my face. I take another drag instead, the smoke clawing at my throat as I exhale.

“Stupid stars,” I mutter, flicking ash onto the ground.

But I can’t stop looking at them. I hate them, and I miss them, and I don’t know how to make any of it stop.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot pulls me out of my thoughts. My fingers tighten around the cigarette, ready to flick it and pretend I’m just here to “stargaze” if it’s Khan or someone else who’d lecture me about life choices. But when I tilt my head up, I don’t see my dad.

I see her.

Lizzy.

For a second, I think I’m hallucinating, or maybe the stars are finally getting back at me for calling them stupid. She stands at the edge of the hood, her arms crossed like she owns the place. Except… she doesn’t look like she owns anything anymore.

Her once-perfect hair is a frizzy mess, like she hasn’t seen a brush in days and missed her blonde dye job, and her outfit—a baggy sweater and ripped jeans—screams thrift store chic. No designer logos, no perfectly coordinated accessories, no obnoxious perfume cloud trailing behind her. If it weren’t for her face, I wouldn’t have recognized her at all.

“What do you want?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbows. My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but can you blame me? Last time I saw her, she was laughing at me for tripping in the cafeteria, and now she’s just… here?

Lizzy hesitates, like she’s not sure what to do with her hands. She settles for shoving them in her pockets and leans against the edge of the hood, careful not to sit too close.

“Relax, I’m not here to start anything,” she says, her tone softer than I remember. She glances at me, then at the cigarette, and I half-expect her to start judging me like the old Lizzy would. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she looks… tired.

“Then why are you here?” I press, letting the cigarette dangle between my fingers again. “Didn’t get your daily dose of making me miserable?”

Lizzy winces, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her flinch. “I deserve that.”

I blink. Did I hear her right?

“I—I just wanted to talk,” she continues, her voice faltering. “Look, I know I was… awful to you in high school. And you probably think I’m still that girl who made fun of your hair and your clothes and—God, everything else.” She lets out a shaky breath. “But I’m not. Not anymore.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to read her face. Lizzy always had this way of smiling like she had a secret that would ruin you. But now, there’s no smirk, no smug tilt to her head. Just… regret.

“What happened to you?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

She chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “The real world happened. Turns out, being ‘Queen Bee’ in high school doesn’t mean squat when you graduate. My parents cut me off when I flunked out of college. I had to get a job at some diner just to keep a roof over my head.” She gestures vaguely at her outfit. “And, well… Goodwill is a lot cheaper than Gucci.”

I don’t say anything. Partly because I’m trying to process the image of Lizzy flipping burgers, and partly because I don’t know how to respond.

“I’m sorry, Uzi,” she says, her voice steady this time. “For everything. You didn’t deserve what I put you through, and… I know saying sorry doesn’t fix it, but I had to try.”

I take a slow drag, letting the smoke burn its way down before exhaling. “Why now?”

Lizzy shrugs. “Because I saw you here and thought, ‘If I don’t say it now, I never will.’ And I couldn’t live with that.”

For the first time tonight, I look at her—not the Lizzy I remember, but the Lizzy sitting in front of me. The one with messy hair and tired eyes and a voice that’s lost its bite.

Maybe she’s changed. Maybe she hasn’t. But for now, I just nod.

“Okay,” I say quietly, flicking ash into the gravel.

She doesn’t smile, doesn’t push for more. She just leans back, staring up at the stars like they might have answers we don’t.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone.

For a while, we just sit there, the night settling in around us like a thick, quiet blanket. Lizzy doesn’t say anything, and for once, I don’t feel like I have to, either. The silence isn’t awkward—it’s just… there. Existing.

“So,” Lizzy says after a long pause, her voice breaking through the quiet. “This is weird, huh? Us… talking.”

I let out a small snort, flicking the last of my cigarette into the gravel. “Weirder than that time you made everyone believe I wore Velcro shoes in sophomore year?”

Lizzy groans, running a hand through her messy hair. “God, don’t remind me. I was such a little brat.”

“A spoiled little brat,” I correct, leaning back on the hood. “With a matching designer backpack to prove it.”

She laughs—a real laugh, not the fake, high-pitched one she used to do in high school. “You’re not wrong. I thought having all that stuff made me… untouchable. Like nothing could go wrong as long as I had the latest whatever.” She shrugs. “Turns out, Gucci doesn’t pay rent when you’re broke.”

I glance at her, the corner of my mouth twitching into something close to a smile. “So what’s next? You gonna write a memoir? Lizzy’s Fall From Grace: A Tragic Tale of Discount Sweaters and Minimum Wage. ”

She cracks up, and for a moment, it feels normal. Like we’re just two people joking around instead of two people who spent years on opposite sides of a war only one of us knew we were fighting.

But then her laughter fades, and she looks down at her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Uzi.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she says, her voice quieter now. “In high school, everything was so… easy. I didn’t have to think about anything—my parents took care of everything. But now?” She shakes her head. “I’m on my own, working a dead-end job, barely scraping by. And I just… I don’t know.”

Her words hang in the air, raw and heavy.

“I thought about going back to school,” she continues, “but I don’t even know what I’d study. And even if I did, how would I pay for it? I’ve got nothing to fall back on, no plan, no clue what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.”

She looks at me, her eyes pleading. “What do I do, Uzi?”

I freeze, unsure of what to say. Me? The girl who can’t even graduate high school on time? The girl whose entire life is held together by caffeine, sarcasm, and sheer stubbornness? She’s asking me for advice?

“I…” I start, but the words feel heavy in my throat. I sit up, brushing ash off my jeans. “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask. I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly a shining example of ‘figuring it out.’”

Lizzy shakes her head. “But you keep going,” she says, her voice earnest. “You’re still here. That’s more than I’ve been able to do lately.”

I stare at her, the weight of her words sinking in. I’ve never thought about it like that before. To me, “still here” feels like the bare minimum. But maybe, to someone like Lizzy, it’s something more.

I take a deep breath, my fingers drumming against the hood of the car. “I don’t have all the answers,” I admit, my voice softer than usual. “But… maybe start small. Find one thing—just one thing—you care about, and go from there. It doesn’t have to be perfect, or even make sense right now. Just… start.”

Lizzy looks at me, her expression a mix of hope and hesitation. “You think that’ll work?”

I shrug. “No idea. But it’s better than sitting around waiting for something to magically fix itself, right?”

She nods slowly, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

For the first time tonight, I feel like maybe, just maybe, we’re not as different as I thought.

Lizzy shifts, pushing herself off the hood of my car with a groan. “Well, thanks for not telling me to screw off. I guess I deserved that too.”

I tilt my head, watching her. “You’re welcome, I guess?” It comes out more like a question because, seriously, who knew this conversation would happen tonight?

She lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Anyway, I should probably get going. Thad’s couch isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’s better than sleeping in my car.”

“Wait, you’re crashing at Thad’s place?” I blink, trying to imagine Lizzy, queen of high school social hierarchies, bunking down on her twin brother’s couch. “You mean the guy who thought duct taping the principal’s car was peak comedy?”

Lizzy laughs softly, shaking her head. “Yeah, that Thad. Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice, but our parents pretty much told me to figure it out on my own. They said I ‘needed to learn some responsibility’ or whatever.” Her voice hardens on the last part, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of the bitterness she’s been holding back.

“Harsh,” I mutter, leaning back on the hood.

Lizzy shrugs, though the motion looks forced. “Yeah, well, guess I had it coming. Can’t live off their money forever, right?”

There’s a moment of silence, and I almost don’t say anything. But something about the way she looks—worn down, not just by life but by herself—makes me speak up.

“At least Thad’s not the worst,” I offer, trying to sound casual. “Could’ve been worse. He could’ve made you sleep on the floor with all his empty pizza boxes.”

She snorts, a real laugh breaking through her tired demeanor. “Trust me, he tried. I had to bribe him with free coffee from the diner just to get the couch.”

“Classic Thad,” I say, shaking my head.

Lizzy looks at me for a moment, her expression softening. “Thanks, Uzi. For… letting me talk, I guess. And for not, y’know, throwing me under a bus or something.”

I smirk, the old sarcastic edge creeping back into my voice. “Hey, the night’s not over yet.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. “Well, if I survive Thad’s snoring, maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe,” I say, watching as she turns to leave.

As Lizzy walks away, her footsteps crunching over the gravel, I feel a strange mix of emotions—confusion, curiosity, and maybe even a tiny bit of respect. The Lizzy I knew in high school would never have admitted to struggling, let alone apologized.

I glance back up at the stars, the cigarette ash still faintly smoldering in the gravel beside me.

People change, I guess.

I sit there for a few more minutes, staring at the stars as Lizzy’s footsteps fade into the distance. The cool night air nips at my skin, and for a moment, I feel… lighter. It’s weird, but talking to her wasn’t as awful as I thought it’d be. Maybe people really do change. Or maybe I’m just too tired to care.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull it out and squint at the screen. It’s a text from Dad.

“Where are you? It’s late.”

I glance at the time. Midnight. Crap.

“Ugh,” I groan, sliding off the hood of my car and landing with a thud. “He’s gonna flip.”

It’s not like I’m out doing anything bad , but Dad has this thing about ‘reasonable hours.’ To him, anything past ten is the witching hour, and if I’m not home, he assumes I’ve been kidnapped by a cult or something.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and climb into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. The old car groans in protest as I turn the key, the engine sputtering to life. “C’mon, you rust bucket. Don’t fail me now.”

The lot is quiet as I pull out, the headlights cutting through the darkness. As I drive, I can’t help but think about Lizzy. About how the real world knocked her off her pedestal and how she’s just… trying to figure it out. I guess we’re not so different after all.

The streets are mostly empty, the occasional streetlight flickering as I pass. My mind starts to wander, thinking about what I’ll say to Dad when I get home.

“Sorry, Dad. I got caught up contemplating the universe. Oh, and Lizzy apologized for being a jerk in high school. No big deal.”

Yeah, that’ll go over well.

Chapter Text

I hadn’t even realized I was speeding until the blur of the road suddenly snapped into focus—a small figure darting out into the street. My heart lurched in my chest, and my hand jerked the wheel to the side. The tires screeched in protest, but I managed to slam my foot on the brake just in time. My breath caught in my throat as the car came to a jarring stop, a few inches away from the girl standing frozen in the middle of the road.

The headlights illuminated her, casting sharp shadows against her features. She was just standing there, staring up at my car with wide, terrified eyes. A girl, maybe around 10 or 12, with an old hoodie that hung a little too big for her, a grimy pair of jeans, and scuffed sneakers. The thing that caught my eye, though, was the burn scar running down the left side of her face. The skin was an uneven mess of scar tissue, and the worst part was her left eye—a dull, lifeless hazel orb that seemed to have lost all the spark of life the other one still held.

I didn’t know if she was hurt, but the way she stood there, unmoving, it almost felt like she was daring fate to come for her. My pulse quickened as I threw the car into park, heart still hammering in my chest.

I wasn’t one for heroics. I wasn’t the type to step in and save people, but something about the girl’s blank expression stuck with me. I slammed the door open and rushed out, quickly making my way toward her, trying to calm myself down.

“Hey, are you okay?” I called, keeping my voice steady as I approached her.

The girl didn’t move, didn’t speak—just kept staring at me with that unsettlingly empty gaze.

Before I could take another step, a voice called out from behind me.

“Cyn!”

I turned around to see a tall figure emerging from the shadows. A guy—maybe in his early twenties—quickly closed the distance between us, his strides long and purposeful. He was wearing a leather jacket, his hair messy like he hadn’t bothered to comb it in days.

His eyes flicked over to me briefly, but his main focus was on the girl. He crouched down beside her, a soft, concerned expression crossing his face. “Cynthia, what the hell were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

The girl—Cynthia, or “Cyn” as he’d just called her—finally moved, lowering her gaze. I felt a tug of guilt in my chest as I watched her, and despite everything, I found myself stepping closer.

“She’s fine,” the guy said, brushing a hand over her hair before looking up at me. “You okay? Didn’t mean to make you swerve like that.”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, just a bit shaken up. I didn’t see her coming.”

The guy gave a wry smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, she’s quick. I’m Nick, by the way.” He motioned to the girl. “This is my sister, Cynthia. We call her Cyn.”

I stared at them for a moment. Nick’s easygoing demeanor was at odds with Cyn’s hollow stare, and for a split second, I wondered what had happened to them. There was something unsettling about the pair—the way Nick kept a calm, almost detached presence, and the way Cyn didn’t seem to care much about anything at all.

“Uzi,” I muttered after a pause, the name slipping out before I could stop it. I held out my hand toward Nick, and he shook it without hesitation, still glancing at his sister.

“You heading home?” Nick asked, shifting his attention back to me. “Or are you just out here messing around at this hour?”

I blinked, still thrown off by the whole encounter. “Yeah, I’m heading home,” I answered, unsure why I was still standing here, talking to them.

Nick glanced down at Cyn, who had barely moved, her dull eye fixed on the ground. His face softened slightly before he looked back up at me.

“Alright,” he said with a small nod. “We’re fine here. Thanks for stopping. I’m just trying to get her home.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said, but my voice sounded distant, even to myself. There was something about the whole situation that didn’t sit right with me. Still, I turned back to my car and climbed in, giving them both one last look before starting the engine. As I pulled away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just met someone who, like me, was running from something.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, it was nearly two in the morning. The streetlights above flickered, casting an eerie glow across the quiet suburban neighborhood. I wasn’t even sure what time I’d left the lot earlier, but the conversation with Nick and Cyn had dragged on longer than I’d intended.

I dragged my tired body out of the car, the weight of the night catching up to me. The encounter with the girl had left me unsettled, but the last thing I needed was another lecture from my dad. Not after the night I’d had.

I opened the door and was greeted by the usual smell of old take-out containers and stale coffee. Dad was in his usual spot, sitting at the kitchen table with a half-empty mug in front of him, staring down at his phone.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked before I could even get a word out, his voice gruff, the irritation practically rolling off him. “Do you know what time it is?”

I stood there for a moment, unsure how to respond. The words felt like they were stuck in my throat. “I… lost track of time.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just stared at me, waiting for some explanation that didn’t involve my typical half-assed excuses. I could see the frustration building in his face, the tension in his shoulders. His hand clenched around his mug as if he were trying to keep himself from lashing out.

“You know I don’t care if you’re out having fun,” he said finally, his voice softer but no less sharp. “But you need to be more responsible. I’m not gonna keep bailing you out when you mess up.”

I knew that was a low blow. I hadn’t messed up yet—at least not in the way he meant. But the past few weeks had been filled with nothing but these little jabs. It wasn’t like I wanted to keep screwing up. It just kept happening, no matter how hard I tried to stay on track.

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered, not really meaning it, but also knowing it was the only thing I could say that would get him to stop. I knew how he was. He’d yell, then calm down, and the whole thing would be forgotten by morning.

Dad sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was frustrated. “Just… try not to do it again, okay? I’ve been worried sick.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say more. I wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart, especially not after the night I’d had. I just wanted to go to bed and forget about it all, about the burn on Cyn’s face, the hollow look in her eyes. I wanted to forget the weight of my dad’s disappointment, too.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to bed now,” I mumbled, already half-turning to leave.

But before I could take a step, Dad’s voice stopped me.

“And Uzi?” he called out, sounding like he had something else to say, something important.

I turned back around, my heart sinking slightly.

“Don’t make me worry like that again, alright?” he said, his gaze softer now, though the tension still hung in his words. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

I didn’t respond, just gave him a half-hearted nod and retreated to my room. The door clicked shut behind me, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

I threw my bag on the bed and collapsed face-first onto the pillow, the weight of everything—my dad’s expectations, my mom’s death, my constant screw-ups—crushing down on me all at once. I wasn’t a kid anymore, but I wasn’t really an adult either. At least not in the way Dad seemed to expect.

I rolled over to my side, staring at the ceiling. I could still see Cyn’s face in my mind’s eye, the scar across her cheek, the dullness in her gaze. I wasn’t sure what it all meant, but I felt like I was missing something—something important. I wasn’t sure if it was about her, or about me.

I shut my eyes, trying to push it all out of my head. Maybe tomorrow would make sense of things. Or maybe it wouldn’t.

But for tonight, I just wanted to sleep and forget about the mess of a life I seemed to be living.

I tossed and turned, but sleep wasn’t coming. My mind kept racing—thoughts of Cyn and Nick swirled in my head like a storm I couldn’t escape. The burn on her face, her dull hazel eyes, the way she just… seemed lost. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about her, but I couldn’t quite figure it out.

Frustrated, I rolled out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor with a dull thud. My room was a mess, as usual. Crumpled papers, empty cans, random shit everywhere. The last thing I wanted to do was clean up, but right now, I didn’t have much else to do.

After some digging through piles of clutter, I finally found it—my laptop. It was buried under a heap of dirty clothes, but it wasn’t like I ever took care of my things anyway. I cracked it open and plugged it in, waiting for it to load up.

I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. Maybe something about Cyn. Maybe some clue that would explain why my mind couldn’t stop obsessing over that little girl, that scar. And what was the deal with her brother Nick? I barely knew them, yet it felt like they were pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t finish.

When the laptop finally booted up, I navigated to Facebook—my usual distraction—and typed in a search for “Cyn” or “Nick,” hoping something would come up. As the results loaded, I noticed something weird: a profile under the name Jessica Elliot .

I clicked on it without thinking. The profile picture was a girl with brown hair, a sharp, almost mocking smirk on her face. Her hazel eyes stared straight into the camera like she was daring someone to mess with her. I had a feeling just by looking at the photo that she wasn’t the most approachable person.

But what caught my attention were the photos—lots of them. Some were of the girl herself, clearly in some kind of rebellious phase, wearing clothes that screamed “bad attitude” and always with that same challenging look in her eyes. Then, in the background of a few shots, I noticed a familiar face. Cyn. And Nick too, though he seemed a lot younger in the pictures.

I clicked through more photos, my curiosity growing. There was one of the group together at what looked like a party, Cyn sitting on someone’s lap, Nick standing behind her with an arm around her shoulders. But it was the people around them that piqued my interest.

There was a girl around 18 or so with ginger-colored hair—bright red with a fade into brown, streaked with a hint of blue in her bangs. She had a fierce, confident look about her, like she wasn’t afraid of anything. Then there was another girl, maybe around 16, with bright brown eyes and soft brown hair. She was smiling in every picture, laughing, looking like she was living her best life, and the contrast was… stark.

I kept scrolling, feeling a strange tug in my chest. The more I saw, the more questions piled up. This wasn’t just a random group of people. They all seemed so close, like family. And yet, Cyn—this version of her—was different. Quiet, withdrawn. Her hazel eyes weren’t filled with the carefree spark the other girl had, nor were they hardened like the ginger-haired one. They were distant.

I couldn’t stop staring at the pictures. It was like there was something I was supposed to understand. Like there was a piece of the puzzle that I was holding in my hands, but I just couldn’t see it yet.

Jessica Elliot… I wondered who she was. If she knew about Cyn and Nick’s past. Maybe she was one of their friends, or someone more. Maybe the answer to the questions swirling in my mind was buried somewhere deeper in the profile.

I took a deep breath and clicked on the friend list. Maybe someone in there would lead me to answers. Or maybe I was just overthinking it all.

But whatever it was, I couldn’t stop now.

I scrolled through Jessica’s friend list, but it didn’t really lead anywhere. No one I recognized, no mutual connections. Nothing that could help piece together this puzzle. Just random names, most likely friends and acquaintances of hers, all blending together into a sea of profiles. I let out a frustrated sigh and stopped scrolling.

Then, something caught my eye.

There, right under the profile picture, was the bio. It had clearly been updated recently, and the moment I read it, I felt a strange knot tighten in my stomach.

It read: CEO of JCJennson – Electronics. Proud older sister to Nickolas, Victoria, Tessa, and Cynthia. Family first. Always.

At first, I didn’t process it. The words “CEO of JCJennson” didn’t really register until a few seconds later when I remembered hearing about JCJennson Electronics. Everyone had heard of them. The company had been around for years, creating cutting-edge technology, everything from phones to home security systems to even the more niche consumer electronics. They were pretty much at the top of the game in their field.

But what really struck me was the second part of the bio.

Proud older sister to Nickolas, Victoria, Tessa, and Cynthia.

So, Jessica—this girl with the smug attitude and bad girl vibes—was the CEO of a major company? And she was related to Cyn? Nick? The same people I’d met tonight?

I blinked, reading the names again. There it was.

Nickolas. Victoria. Tessa. Cynthia.

That was… strange. The last name wasn’t listed, but it was clear who they were, especially after seeing Nick and Cyn. It didn’t make sense, though. Jessica had all the makings of a successful businesswoman, a hard, ruthless sort of person. But Nick and Cyn? They didn’t seem like they came from a family like that. It wasn’t like I’d spent hours talking to either of them, but something about their demeanor didn’t fit with this “CEO” vibe. And I didn’t even know anything about Tessa—she wasn’t someone I’d heard of before, but seeing her name listed here made me wonder who she was in all of this.

I felt a pulse of curiosity surge in my chest. Tessa, Victoria, Cynthia… they were siblings. Real siblings. Not some random group of friends, not acquaintances who just happened to be in the same photos. A family.

But the thing was, they didn’t seem like a family at all. Cyn, the little girl I met tonight, had that scarred, distant look in her eyes. She didn’t act like she came from a family with a CEO as an older sister. And Nick… Nick was different too. There was something about him that seemed… protective. Guarded. Like he wasn’t just some carefree guy living in a perfect world.

And Tessa… I didn’t know anything about her, but the more I read, the more I wanted to find out.

Something was off. I could feel it in my gut.

I sat back in my chair, closing my laptop for a moment to think. Everything felt like it was connected, like there was something bigger going on here that I wasn’t seeing. But how was I supposed to figure it out? I barely even knew these people.

Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. And about Cyn, who was at the center of all of this.

Chapter Text

The next day came too soon. My body was sore from the lack of sleep, but I dragged myself to school anyway. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d discovered the night before. Jessica, her family, Cyn… everything felt like it was leading up to something.

I sat through my morning classes in a haze, barely able to focus. History, English, a little bit of math… none of it mattered today. But when the bell rang for the start of my math class, I did what I always did—took a deep breath and tried to center myself.

I slumped into my usual seat near the back of the room, the one where I could zone out and not be bothered too much. I kept my eyes on the desk, hoping to avoid drawing attention to myself. It worked, mostly.

But then, just as I was about to pull out my notebook and pretend I knew what the teacher was talking about, someone walked in.

It was her. The girl from Jessica’s Facebook profile. The one with the ginger fade in her hair, that blue streak in her bangs. She was wearing glasses, which threw me off for a second. I didn’t remember the glasses from the photos, but maybe it was just a new thing. She had on a crop top jacket over a black shirt, jean shorts that were a little too short for a classroom setting, and boots that clicked loudly against the floor as she made her way to a seat near the front.

She had that look—the one that screamed popular —even though she wasn’t exactly dressed for it. The way she held herself, the slight smirk tugging at her lips, the quiet confidence in the way she walked. She was a rebel, a troublemaker, and probably the kind of person that everyone knew.

And then it hit me.

Victoria.

Vicky.

The name popped into my head, and I immediately realized she was the same girl from the profile. The one listed under Jessica’s bio. One of Cyn’s older sisters.

I watched her take her seat and pull out a notebook, flipping through the pages lazily. She barely glanced around the room, but when she did, her eyes landed on me. It was almost like she knew I was looking at her, and for a brief moment, our gazes locked.

I looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the worksheet in front of me.

Great. This was exactly what I didn’t need today—someone who could probably make my life miserable if she felt like it.

But what really bugged me was how easy it was to recognize her. Like she was meant to stand out. How had I not noticed her before? Maybe it was because I had been too wrapped up in my own world to care about anyone else, but now it felt like everything was colliding into my path.

The teacher started going over the lesson, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about Vicky and how she fit into everything—how she was connected to Cyn, to Jessica, to whatever twisted family drama was going on behind the scenes.

Then, as if on cue, she stood up. I couldn’t help but watch her as she made her way over to the teacher’s desk. Her boots clicked with every step, and she had that same air of confidence that she carried around with her like it was armor.

I almost didn’t hear her when she spoke, but then I caught the words: “Excuse me, Mrs. Crane, but I don’t understand the homework from last night. Can you go over it again?”

Her voice was casual, but I could sense the undertone—like she had other things on her mind besides math. Her tone was sweet enough to pass as polite, but there was something sharp behind it.

Mrs. Crane, who always seemed to have the patience of a saint, nodded and started explaining, and just like that, the entire class seemed to shift.

I leaned back in my chair, trying to blend in. But I couldn’t stop myself from watching her.

Vicky. Cyn’s sister. Jessica’s sister. A whole new part of this story I hadn’t even been aware of until yesterday.

Something told me this wasn’t going to be the last time our paths crossed.

After class, I made my way out into the hallway, trying to get as far away from the math room as possible. The entire period felt like a blur, and I still couldn’t shake the feeling of Vicky’s eyes on me. Something was off. I could feel it in my gut.

I was just about to round the corner when I felt a hand grab the back of my coat and yank me backward, slamming me hard against the cold metal of the lockers.

My breath caught in my throat, my chest tightening as I looked up and saw her standing there—Vicky. Her face was close to mine, eyes narrowed in something between annoyance and suspicion.

“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded, her voice sharp enough to make my skin crawl. “Why the hell did you almost run over my little sister last night?”

My heart skipped a beat. Cyn.

I was still recovering from the shock of almost hitting her last night, but the idea of Vicky finding out… it made my stomach twist in knots. I hadn’t even realized she was watching.

“What are you talking about?” I managed to mutter, hoping I didn’t sound as guilty as I felt. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t lie,” she interrupted, her grip tightening on my coat as she shoved me harder against the locker. “Cynthia—my sister—was in the street, and you almost ran her over. You didn’t even stop to check on her. What kind of person does that?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but my mind was racing. I wasn’t sure what kind of person I was anymore, but this definitely wasn’t the first time I’d screwed up.

“I stopped,” I said, barely above a whisper, staring down at my sneakers. “I stopped, alright? She was fine.”

But even as I said the words, I couldn’t help but think about how not fine Cyn looked. The burn on her face. The way she’d stood in the street like she didn’t care if she was hit. It still haunted me.

“Yeah? Then why did she look like she was about to be picked up off the pavement? You think she just walks into the street like that for fun?”

I winced at the sarcasm in her voice. She was pissed. And I didn’t know if I could talk my way out of this one.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, pushing myself off the locker as best I could. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was late, I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t know it was—”

“You didn’t know it was her ?” Vicky cut me off, her voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Didn’t know it was Cynthia you almost ran over? Get your shit together. I know you’re not stupid, Uzi. You’re just acting like one.”

I had to take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. She was right. I should’ve known. Cyn’s face… the way she moved in front of my car.

“Look,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “I’m sorry. But I’m not the one who—”

“You better be sorry.” Vicky’s eyes flashed, her grip loosening slightly, but she didn’t let me go just yet. “You don’t know the first thing about what she’s been through. And if you hurt her, even by accident, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Her tone was dead serious. And it wasn’t just an empty threat. Something in her eyes told me she wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean any harm. I swear.”

She stared at me for a long moment, like she was trying to decide whether or not to believe me. Then, finally, she released her grip on my coat, shoving me away just hard enough to make me stumble.

“You better hope you didn’t,” she said with a cold finality. “Because next time, I’m not going to let it slide.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving me standing in the hall with my heart still hammering in my chest.

What the hell was I getting myself into?

I barely had time to steady my breath when a tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts.

Turning, I found myself facing the brunette girl from Jessica’s profile—the one I’d seen in the photos with Cyn and Nick. She had this calm, collected air about her that was a far cry from her older sister, Vicky. She wore a soft expression, almost apologetic, her eyes a little warmer than I expected.

“Hey,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I’m Tessa. Tessa James Elliot. And, uh, I wanted to apologize for my sister. She can be… well, a bit intense sometimes.”

I blinked, a bit surprised, but nodded slowly. “I… I get it,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Vicky’s a little… protective, I guess.”

Tessa’s lips twitched into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She just wants to protect Cyn,” she said, her tone softer now, like she was trying to explain something I didn’t fully understand. “Cyn’s been through a lot, and Vicky—well, she tends to jump to conclusions when she’s worried about her.”

I swallowed hard, thinking about how Vicky had grabbed me, about the way she’d practically accused me of hurting Cyn. I wasn’t sure if I should feel angry or relieved that Tessa wasn’t reacting the same way.

“I didn’t mean to—” I began, but Tessa raised her hand, cutting me off.

“I know. Nick explained the whole thing to us,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “He told us you stopped for Cyn, and that you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. And I believe him. I don’t think you’re the type of person who would intentionally hurt anyone.”

I felt a weight lift off my chest at her words, like she’d pulled the tension out of the air with just a few sentences. “Thanks,” I said, the relief evident in my voice. “I swear, I wasn’t even looking. She ran out in front of my car, and I barely stopped in time.”

“I know,” Tessa nodded, her gaze gentle. “I’ve seen it happen before. But Vicky? She… she can’t help but worry. It’s just how she is. It’s like she’s always on high alert when it comes to Cyn.”

“I get it,” I said, my voice a little quieter now. “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt her, I swear.”

“I know you don’t,” Tessa replied with a soft smile. “Vicky’s just… Vicky. But I can see it, Uzi. You didn’t mean any harm. We just wanted to make sure you knew that. And that we don’t hold it against you.”

I met her gaze, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought. “Thanks, Tessa. Really.”

She gave me a small, reassuring nod before stepping back slightly, like she was giving me space to breathe. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry about Vicky. She’ll calm down. She always does. But just… watch out for Cyn, okay? She’s not the same since… well, since everything happened.”

I nodded, the weight of her words settling deep in my chest. “I will,” I promised. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Tessa offered a soft smile once more. “Good. And if you ever need anything… don’t hesitate to reach out.” With that, she turned and walked off, disappearing into the crowd of students heading for the next class.

I stood there for a moment, the hallway feeling a little quieter now that Vicky and Tessa were both gone. It was like a storm had passed, and now, I could finally breathe.

Still, a nagging thought lingered in my mind— Cyn. What had happened to her? What kind of life had she been living to make her act the way she did?

I didn’t know, but I was starting to think I wanted to find out.

I finally got home, throwing my bag onto the floor of my room before collapsing face-first onto my bed. Today had been exhausting, to say the least. Between getting slammed into a locker by Vicky and barely keeping my eyes open during math, I didn’t think anything else could add to the pile.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. At first, I ignored it, not in the mood for spam calls or pointless notifications. But it buzzed again. And again.

Groaning, I grabbed it and flipped it over. Unknown Number.

I hesitated. Probably a scam. But I had nothing better to do. Against my better judgment, I unlocked the phone and opened the message.

Hey, Uzi. It’s Nick. Found your number on Facebook. Hope that’s not weird. Cyn asked me to reach out. She hasn’t stopped talking about you.

My brain short-circuited. Nick ? The same guy who yanked Cyn out of the street last night?

I sat up, rereading the message a dozen times. My first instinct was to check Facebook. Had I really left my number public? Sure enough, there it was, plain as day on my profile. I mentally kicked myself.

Still, I stared at the text, unsure how to feel. Why would Cyn ask him to find me? She seemed too shy to even talk to me yesterday. And why did Nick want to get to know me?

I tapped out a response, then erased it. Tried again. Deleted that one too. What was I even supposed to say? “Thanks for stalking me”? That’d go over great.

Finally, I settled on:

Uh, hey? Didn’t expect to hear from you. Tell Cyn I said hi, I guess.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. My stomach twisted as I waited for a reply.

Not even a minute passed before my phone buzzed again.

She says hi back. So… you doing okay?

It was such a normal question, yet it caught me completely off guard. Was I doing okay? Not really. But did I want to admit that to someone I barely knew?

Instead of answering, I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. It felt like some invisible weight was pressing down on me. Why did he care?

After a few moments of silence, another text popped up:

Sorry if that’s too personal. Cyn’s just been worried. She’s a good kid, you know?

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Whatever else I thought about Nick, one thing was clear: he cared about his little sister.

Finally, I typed back:

It’s fine. I’m… managing. Long day, you know?

This time, he didn’t reply right away. I set my phone down and leaned back against the headboard, letting out a sigh. Today wasn’t turning out how I expected, but at least I wasn’t alone in the chaos anymore.

When my phone buzzed again, I didn’t feel as reluctant to pick it up.

I picked up my phone when it buzzed again and opened the new message. This one was… something else.

heyy its cyn now nick sux at typing im way bettr lol :) i wuznt mad @ u 4 almost runnin me over lol it happens all the time jk jk thx 4 stoppin tho :)

I blinked. Once. Twice. Then I squinted at the screen like it might rearrange itself into something readable.

“She can’t be serious,” I muttered, my lips twitching into an involuntary smile. The lack of capitalization. The overuse of emojis. The absolute butchering of grammar and spelling. It was painfully obvious who was typing now.

I started typing back, hesitated, then backspaced. What do you even say to something like that? I settled on keeping it simple:

Uh… glad you’re okay? Maybe tell Nick to keep his phone away from you next time.

The reply came almost immediately.

lol i stole it lololol nick is so mad rn

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A quiet, breathy laugh that echoed in the otherwise silent room. I could practically picture her, the little gremlin, taunting her brother with his own phone while he fumed in the background.

Another text came through:

srsly tho ur cool thx 4 stoppin my sibs r rlly protctive n its annoyin af

I raised an eyebrow. Cyn, annoyed by her siblings? That didn’t seem all that surprising, considering how overbearing Vicky had been earlier. But still, I could tell there was more to it than just irritation.

Before I could reply, another message appeared, this time typed out more carefully:

Nick here. Sorry about that. Cyn took my phone. She’s serious though—she’s not mad. And thanks again for stopping last night.

I stared at the text, feeling a weird warmth in my chest. I wasn’t sure why, but knowing Cyn wasn’t mad and that Nick seemed… decent? It made me feel a little less like the universe was out to get me.

I quickly typed back:

No problem. Just tell her not to make running into traffic a habit.

There was a pause, and then Cyn’s chaotic energy burst through again:

lolol i wont i promisssss :) ttyl ur my fav now

That was it. The little weirdo had won me over.

With a small smile, I put my phone down and leaned back against the headboard. Today had been insane, but at least I’d gotten something good out of it: a new ally in the form of a chaotic little sister I hadn’t asked for but didn’t mind having.

For the first time in a while, I felt like maybe tomorrow wouldn’t suck as much.

Chapter Text

I stared at the crack in my ceiling, the morning sun cutting through the blinds and highlighting the faint spiderweb fracture like it was some kind of masterpiece. My weekend was off to a riveting start.

The door to my room creaked open, and before I could tell her to knock like a normal person, Doll waltzed in and flopped face-first onto my bed.

“Do you not own a bed?” I muttered, pulling the covers tighter around me as if that would keep her from invading my space.

Doll didn’t answer—at least not in a way I could understand. She started mumbling in Russian, her voice muffled by the comforter. I caught a few words that sounded vaguely angry or maybe annoyed, but I wasn’t sure. Russian was basically gibberish to me.

“Cool. Glad we’re having this one-sided conversation,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Doll rolled over, her dark hair a mess and her eyes sharp despite the way she lounged across my bed like she owned it. “You’re not even listening,” she said in English, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Because you’re speaking Russian. You know I don’t understand Russian, right?”

“That’s the point.”

I groaned and grabbed a pillow, half-heartedly tossing it at her. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet you love me,” she shot back, catching the pillow and propping her head up with it.

Doll and I were deep in one of our usual mindless conversations—the kind where neither of us was really paying attention, but the banter kept us entertained. She was draped across the foot of my bed like a cat, absently flipping through some old photos I hadn’t bothered to put away, while I scrolled through my phone looking for anything to distract me from her uninvited presence.

“That’s Nori’s old jacket, right?” Doll asked, nodding at the leather jacket hanging on the back of my chair.

“Yeah,” I said, barely glancing up. “Don’t even think about stealing it.”

“Pfft. Please. Not my style.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. A text lit up the screen: Nick .

Hey. What are you doing?

I blinked at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A moment later, another buzz.

Cyn says hi btw.

“Oh, boy,” I muttered, typing out a quick reply.

Just hanging with my cousin.

Doll tilted her head, noticing the slight smirk creeping onto my face. “Who’s that?”

“Nobody,” I said quickly, locking my phone.

Doll sat up, her expression instantly sharpening with curiosity. “Nobody doesn’t make you smile like that. Who’s the boyfriend?”

“He’s not a boyfriend,” I shot back, throwing her a look.

“Oh, so it’s a he ,” she teased, grinning.

“It’s literally just this guy I met a few days ago.”

“And you’re already texting? Sounds like boyfriend material to me.” She wiggled her eyebrows like some kind of sitcom character, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Can you not?” I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “He’s just… Cyn’s older brother, okay? Nothing’s happening.”

Doll smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say. But if you need help planning your wedding, just let me know.”

I threw another pillow at her.

Before I could even think about how to respond to Nick’s last text, my phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a text. His name lit up the screen: Nick .

“Oh, come on,” I muttered under my breath.

Doll’s ears practically perked up at the sound of my phone vibrating. “Ooh, is that him?” she asked, her grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat.

“No,” I lied, fumbling to silence the call, but I wasn’t fast enough. Doll was already leaning over to peek at the screen.

“Nick,” she read aloud, her tone sing-songy. “You’re right—totally not a boyfriend name. Probably just a random dude.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, turning my back to her as I reluctantly answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Uzi,” Nick’s voice came through the speaker, sounding casual, almost like we’d been friends forever. “Sorry if this is weird, but texting’s kind of slow, you know? Cyn wanted me to ask how you’re doing.”

I barely had time to process his words before Doll started whispering behind me in a terrible imitation of a sultry voice. “ Privet, Nick, ” she purred in Russian. Then she switched to English, adding, “Uzi is doing very well now that you’ve called.”

I shot her a glare so sharp it could’ve cut through steel, but that only made her giggle louder.

“Who’s that?” Nick asked, his voice curious but not judgmental.

“My cousin, ” I said through gritted teeth, turning away to block Doll out.

Doll, of course, wasn’t going to let me have peace. “ On tak milo govorit! ” she cooed in Russian, clasping her hands under her chin like she was watching a rom-com.

“Can you not? ” I hissed at her, covering the mic on my phone.

“What’s she saying?” Nick asked, his tone laced with amusement now.

“Nothing!” I snapped, glaring at Doll again.

“She said you have a cute voice,” Doll said in perfect English, her grin practically splitting her face.

I groaned, burying my head in my hand. “Ignore her. She’s insane.”

Nick chuckled, and I hated how easy and light his laugh sounded. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome, ” Doll said loudly, leaning closer like she was going to grab the phone.

I shoved her away with one hand, turning my back completely. “Anyway, what do you want, Nick?”

“I just wanted to check in,” he said, still sounding amused. “Cyn’s been talking about you nonstop since last night. She wanted me to make sure you were okay after…you know.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. “Tell Cyn I said hi.”

“I will,” Nick replied, then paused for a moment before adding, “She actually wants to see you again. Maybe this weekend?”

Doll’s eyes widened at that, and she immediately launched into another round of teasing in rapid-fire Russian. I didn’t catch most of it, but I was pretty sure I heard the words “date” and “future husband” in there.

“ Shut up, ” I mouthed at her, turning bright red.

“Well, think about it,” Nick said, his voice breaking through my cousin’s nonsense. “No pressure or anything. Just let me know.”

“Sure,” I said, eager to end the call. “Talk later?”

“Yeah, later.” He hung up, and I finally let out a long, exasperated sigh.

Doll flopped back on the bed, looking way too pleased with herself. “So, when’s the wedding?”

I threw my phone at her...

Chapter Text

Pulling into the diner parking lot, I couldn’t shake Doll’s words from earlier. “Your boyfriend, huh? You’re really moving up in the world, Uzi.” The teasing had been relentless, bouncing between Russian phrases I couldn’t even begin to decipher and her obnoxious laugh when I turned red. It was burned into my brain like a bad song stuck on repeat.

I parked the car and killed the engine, catching sight of the diner’s warm glow through the window. There was Cyn, slumped against the table, her head resting on her arms. Even from here, I could tell she was out cold. Nick was sitting next to her, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee like this was the most natural thing in the world. How anyone managed to look so casual with a kid passed out next to them was beyond me.

For a moment, I debated leaving the car and driving off. What was stopping me? Doll’s voice echoed in my head again. “Oh, don’t chicken out now, Uzi. You might miss your shot with Prince Charming.”

“Shut up,” I muttered to myself, even though she wasn’t here to hear it. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and stepped out into the crisp evening air.

The bell above the diner door jingled as I stepped inside, the smell of coffee and greasy comfort food hitting me like a wall. It wasn’t unpleasant, just overwhelming. The greeter—a girl no older than me but somehow looking more put-together in her tacky striped uniform—perked up as I approached.

“Welcome! Booth or table?” she asked, her tone a little too cheerful for someone working the late shift.

“Uh, neither,” I said, glancing past her toward the tables. “I’m meeting someone.”

“Oh, sure! Go ahead.”

I nodded and maneuvered past her, scanning the rows of booths until I spotted them. Cyn was still fast asleep, her small frame curled up like a cat against the table. Nick looked up as I approached, raising his mug in greeting. He looked like he’d been awake for hours—dark circles under his eyes and his usually neat hair sticking out in every direction.

“You made it,” Nick said, his voice easy, like this wasn’t already awkward for me. “Cyn’s been out since we got here. Guess all that energy has to run out sometime.”

I slid into the seat across from them, dropping my bag onto the vinyl cushion. “Looks like it. Didn’t think you’d pick a place this… retro.” I gestured at the checkered floor and the faded photos on the walls.

Nick chuckled. “What can I say? I like a good cliché. Plus, the coffee’s cheap.”

I glanced at Cyn, her hazel eyes hidden behind closed lids, and wondered if she’d been this quiet all day. It didn’t seem possible.

“Anything else you need, hon?”

The voice startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a familiar figure standing at the end of the table. Lizzy, in a diner uniform that looked like it hadn’t seen an iron in weeks, held a notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and there were shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there when she was flaunting designer clothes in high school.

Nick smiled politely, shaking his head. “I’m good, thanks. Just waiting on our third wheel here to get something.”

Lizzy’s eyes shifted toward me, and her smile froze. “Oh,” she said, the casual warmth in her tone dropping. “You.”

I sank a little lower in my seat. “Yeah, me.”

Nick blinked, glancing between us. “Wait, you two know each other?”

“We went to high school together,” Lizzy said quickly, tucking the pencil behind her ear. She glanced at me again, her expression somewhere between sheepish and defensive. “We didn’t exactly… get along.”

I snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “What happened?”

Lizzy let out a short laugh, brushing a hand over her uniform as if smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. “I was kind of a—” she hesitated, eyes flicking to Cyn, still asleep, “—jerk back then. Spoiled brat. Thought I was better than everyone else. Especially her.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back in the booth. “She used to call me ‘glitch girl.’”

Nick winced. “Yikes.”

Lizzy sighed, a hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. “Yeah. Look, I was awful, okay? But, uh, I’m not like that anymore.” Her gaze met mine, and I could tell the apology in her voice wasn’t just for show. “Seriously, I’m sorry for everything, Uzi.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d apologized, but the honesty in her tone made it feel different this time. I nodded stiffly. “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

An awkward silence settled over the table before Nick, clearly trying to lighten the mood, asked, “So, what’s good here?”

Lizzy’s professional mask slipped back into place as she launched into a spiel about the diner’s specials, but her gaze kept darting toward me.

Before Lizzy could finish listing off the specials, a sharp voice cut through the moment.

“Lizzy! What did I tell you about chatting with customers instead of taking orders?”

Lizzy flinched, her shoulders hunching as a tall man in a grease-stained apron appeared behind her, arms crossed and frowning like he’d been summoned by the sheer presence of trouble.

“Sorry, Mr. Grayson,” Lizzy mumbled, clutching her notepad.

“Don’t ‘sorry’ me. There’s a family at table seven who’s been waiting for their drinks for ten minutes. Get to it!”

With one last apologetic glance at me, Lizzy hurried off toward the kitchen, her face flushed. The manager, Mr. Grayson, followed her movements before turning his sharp gaze on Nick and me, like he was trying to assess if we were part of the problem. I avoided eye contact, and thankfully, he disappeared into the back.

Nick broke the silence with a low whistle. “Guess she’s not the queen bee anymore, huh?”

“Apparently not,” I muttered, watching Lizzy disappear into the crowd of patrons.

Before we could dwell on the awkwardness, a soft groan came from beside Nick. Cyn stirred, her head lifting off the table as she rubbed her eyes.

“Huh?” she mumbled, looking around sleepily. Then her gaze landed on me, and she perked up immediately. “Uzi! You’re here!”

Her hazel eyes lit up, and she gave a wide grin, her scarred cheek dimpling slightly. “Nick said you’d come, but I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to match her enthusiasm but feeling a little off-balance after the Lizzy encounter. “I’m here. Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

Cyn practically bounced in her seat, her earlier shyness completely gone. “Did you see my texts? I told Nick to find you ‘cause you seemed cool!”

Nick raised his coffee cup with a small smirk. “She wouldn’t stop bugging me until I did.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though my thoughts still lingered on Lizzy. “Yeah, I got the texts. Nice grammar, by the way.”

Cyn giggled, unbothered by the sarcasm. “That’s ‘cause I typed them! Nick’s typing is boring.”

Nick rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Cyn leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands as she looked at me with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “So, what do you wanna do now? Eat? Talk? Do something fun?”

The diner buzzed with the hum of conversations and the clatter of dishes as the three of us finished off what was left of our meal. Cyn had inhaled a towering stack of pancakes, syrup dripping onto her plate in sticky pools, while Nick and I settled for burgers and fries.

Cyn pushed her plate forward with a satisfied sigh. “That was so good. Best pancakes ever.”

Nick chuckled, finishing off his coffee. “You say that about every pancake you eat.”

She grinned, unrepentant, and I couldn’t help but smile a little too. The moment felt oddly normal—a word I didn’t usually associate with my life.

But just as Nick was flagging down Lizzy to grab the check, a sharp, angry voice cut through the chatter like a knife.

“Lizzy! My office. Now!”

Heads turned as Mr. Grayson stormed out from the kitchen, his face red and twisted in frustration. Lizzy appeared from the other side of the counter, clutching her notepad, her face pale as she quickly followed him toward the back of the diner.

The three of us exchanged uneasy glances, Cyn sitting up straighter. “What’s going on?” she asked, her wide eyes flicking between us.

“No idea,” Nick said, setting down his coffee.

The muffled sounds of a heated argument drifted out from the back. Though I couldn’t make out every word, phrases like “unprofessional,” “too many chances,” and “this is your last warning” were unmistakable.

A few minutes later, Lizzy reappeared, her face tight and her eyes shiny with unshed tears. Behind her, Mr. Grayson followed, his voice booming for everyone in the diner to hear.

“I told you, Lizzy. This was your last chance. You’re done. Hand over your apron and get out of my diner!”

The entire place fell silent. Even the clinking of silverware came to a halt as all eyes focused on Lizzy, who stood frozen in the middle of the diner, her face flushed with humiliation.

Cyn tugged on Nick’s sleeve, whispering, “He’s firing her?”

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Looks like it.”

Lizzy fumbled with the ties of her apron, yanking it off and tossing it onto the counter with shaking hands. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the diner, the bells on the door jingling in her wake.

I sat there, gripping my fork so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn’t know what to feel—pity, anger, or some messy mixture of both. For all her faults, Lizzy didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that.

“Should we… do something?” Cyn asked hesitantly, her voice unusually quiet.

Nick hesitated, glancing at me. “I don’t think it’s our place to get involved.”

I stayed silent, staring at the door Lizzy had just walked through, wondering if this night had been as rock bottom for her as it looked.

I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor loud enough to make Nick and Cyn look up.

“I’ll text you,” I muttered, grabbing my bag. “I gotta go.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, but he nodded. “Alright. Be safe.”

I barely heard him as I made my way out of the diner, the jingling bell above the door announcing my exit. The cool night air hit me as I stepped outside, scanning the parking lot until I spotted Lizzy sitting on the curb under the dim glow of a streetlamp. She was hunched over, her phone pressed to her ear, her posture defeated.

It was a far cry from the confident girl I remembered from high school, always flashing the latest phone with the most obnoxious glittery case. Now, she was clutching a beat-up Track phone with a cracked screen, her fingers nervously tapping against the plastic.

“Thad, I just got fired,” she said into the phone, her voice cracking. “Can you come get me? Please? I’m—” Her voice dropped to a whisper as her shoulders trembled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

I hesitated for a second, watching her from a distance. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave, to let her brother handle it. But something about the way she was curled up on that curb, small and vulnerable, stopped me.

“Lizzy,” I called softly, stepping closer.

She flinched, quickly wiping at her face before looking up. “Uzi?”

I shrugged, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets. “Figured you might need someone to talk to.”

Her expression flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—relief, maybe? Or just exhaustion. She turned back to her phone. “Thad, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket.

“I’ll give you a ride,” I offered before she could say anything.

Her brows furrowed. “You don’t have to—”

“Just get in the car,” I interrupted, my tone sharper than I meant it to be. “It’s late, and I’m not letting you sit out here like this.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, with a small sigh, she pushed herself up and followed me to my car.

The ride was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. Lizzy sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, her head turned toward the window.

“Thanks,” she finally muttered, barely audible.

“Don’t mention it,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road.

But as the silence stretched on, I couldn’t help but glance over at her, wondering how the girl who once seemed to have everything had ended up here.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as we approached a red light, the question itching at the back of my mind. Lizzy sat quietly beside me, staring out the window like the streetlights were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

The words spilled out before I could stop myself. “How’d you end up like this?”

She blinked, turning to face me. “What?”

I exhaled through my nose, glancing at her briefly before focusing back on the road. “I mean, you’re sleeping on Thad’s couch, you’re working at a diner, and now…you’re not even working there anymore.” My voice softened, almost hesitant. “What happened?”

For a moment, Lizzy didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, like she couldn’t believe I’d asked. Then, with a bitter laugh, she slumped back in her seat.

“You really wanna know?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” I said flatly, glancing at her again.

She ran a hand through her hair, the motion making it even messier than before. “It’s not some big, dramatic story, Uzi. My parents cut me off because I—” She paused, her jaw tightening. “Because I wasn’t what they wanted. Not anymore.”

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my eyes on the road. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She let out another humorless laugh, leaning her head back against the seat. “I screwed up, okay? Got into some trouble after high school—stuff I couldn’t buy my way out of, even with all the designer crap I used to have.” Her voice dropped, quieter now. “And when I asked my parents for help…they said I wasn’t their problem anymore.”

I frowned, the light turning green as I processed what she was saying. “What kind of trouble?”

Lizzy hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “Debt,” she finally admitted. “I borrowed money to keep up the whole ‘perfect girl’ image, and when I couldn’t pay it back, things went south. My parents found out and…” She trailed off, shrugging. “They washed their hands of me.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

“You ever try making up with them?” I asked cautiously.

She snorted. “Tried. Failed. They’ve made it pretty clear they don’t care what happens to me anymore. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a lost cause.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel again, unsure of what to say. I’d always seen Lizzy as the spoiled rich girl who had it all, but now…now she just seemed broken.

“Thad’s been letting me crash at his place, but…” She sighed, her voice cracking slightly. “Even he’s got his limits. I don’t know how much longer he’s gonna put up with me.”

I glanced at her as we pulled up to a stop sign. “You’re trying, though, right? To, I don’t know, fix things?”

Lizzy gave a weak smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m trying. Doesn’t mean it’s working.”

The silence returned as I turned into her brother’s neighborhood, the faint glow of porch lights illuminating the street.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said quietly as I pulled up in front of Thad’s place.

“Don’t mention it,” I replied, watching as she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car.

But before she shut the door, I leaned over slightly. “Hey, Lizzy?”

She paused, looking back at me.

“You’re not a lost cause,” I said, my voice firm.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. But she just nodded, shutting the door behind her and disappearing into the house.

As I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Lizzy’s story wasn’t so different from my own.

As I pulled away from Thad’s house, something about Lizzy’s story stuck with me. It wasn’t just the way she’d said it or the look in her eyes—it was the way it reminded me of how people talked about me. Like I was some screw-up, a problem too big to solve.

I sighed, gripping the wheel tighter. Turning back didn’t feel like the smartest move—I barely knew Thad these days—but for some reason, my foot eased off the gas.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled into a random driveway, turned the car around, and headed back toward his house.

It wasn’t like I was going to admit why I was really there. No, this was just…a casual visit. A totally random, “Hey, it’s been forever since we hung out!” kind of thing.

Not at all because I felt bad for Lizzy.

By the time I parked again, my nerves were setting in. I hadn’t seen Thad in ages—besides the occasional awkward wave in passing—and back in high school, I’d had the kind of embarrassing crush on him that kept me up at night cringing years later. Luckily, those feelings were long gone. Mostly.

I killed the engine and hopped out, walking up the driveway like this wasn’t a completely impulsive decision. Knocking on the door, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other until Thad finally answered.

He looked almost exactly the same: messy hair, the same easygoing smile that never quite left his face, and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days.

“Uzi?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

I forced a smirk, crossing my arms. “What, I can’t drop by to say hi to an old friend?”

Thad blinked, then laughed. “You? Socializing? Did someone pay you to check on me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to start trouble. I was just in the area and figured, why not?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, you’re lucky I’m not busy. Come on in.”

I followed him inside, the familiar scent of takeout and air freshener hitting me. The place was cozy—cluttered but lived in—and Lizzy’s stuff was scattered in one corner of the living room. A half-packed duffel bag sat on the couch, like she wasn’t sure if she was staying or going.

Thad plopped down in an armchair, gesturing for me to take a seat. “So, what’s up? I feel like I haven’t seen you since high school.”

I shrugged, settling onto the couch. “Not much. Same old, same old.”

“Yeah? Still causing trouble for your dad?” he teased, grinning.

“Always,” I shot back, smirking. “How about you? How’s life treating the golden twin?”

He snorted. “Golden twin, my ass. I’m just trying to keep things together. You know how it is.”

My eyes drifted to the duffel bag, and I hesitated before speaking. “Yeah, about that… How’s Lizzy holding up?”

Thad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s…trying. I’ll give her that. But, man, it’s hard. She’s stubborn as hell, and she doesn’t always make the best choices. I mean, you saw what happened tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I saw,” I admitted. “But, honestly? I don’t think she’s as hopeless as you think.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “You didn’t live with her through the worst of it.”

“Maybe not,” I said, leaning forward. “But I know what it’s like to feel like everyone’s given up on you. And trust me, that doesn’t help.”

Thad stared at me for a moment, his expression softening. “You really think she can turn things around?”

I nodded. “I think she’s got a shot. But only if the people around her don’t give up first.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at his hands like he was turning the idea over in his head. Finally, he let out a breath.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Good,” I replied, standing up. “Because she’s not as much of a lost cause as she thinks she is. And neither are you, for that matter.”

Thad blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

I smirked, heading for the door. “Figure it out, golden twin.”

As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, and I felt a small sense of relief. Maybe I hadn’t fixed anything tonight, but at least I’d said what I needed to.

Chapter Text

Alright, let's try a different narrator this time. Hi, I'm Cynthia Scarlet Elliot. You probably think I’m just some reckless kid who wanted attention, right? Well, if that’s what you’re thinking, you’re only half right. Sure, I ran out into the road. But let me tell you why.

It wasn’t because I wanted to die, or because I thought it’d be funny to scare some random stranger. No, it was because I was sick of it. Sick of listening to Jessica and Vicky scream at each other.

You have no idea what it’s like living in a house where every night feels like the end of the world. Where two people who should be the most stable forces in your life are constantly at each other’s throats. They fight about anything. Everything.

It’s exhausting. And I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like you’re suffocating just from the noise around you, but it’s enough to make you do something crazy. Something stupid. And I’ll admit, it was stupid.

I just didn’t want to hear it anymore. So, I ran.

I ran because I thought if I did, maybe they’d stop. Maybe they’d notice I was gone and realize I didn’t need them to keep fighting. Maybe it’d all just stop .

But then I saw the car. And in that moment, all I could think was that it was going to hit me, and maybe that would be easier than going back into that house.

But it didn’t hit me.

You know the rest—Uzi swerved. She stopped. And that’s when I saw her. Really saw her for the first time.

I guess you could say it was the start of something. I don’t know if it’s something good or something bad, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment.

And maybe, just maybe, Uzi won’t either.

Anyway, I’ll spare you the rest of the diner drama. You already know Lizzy got fired, and honestly, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Everyone has their breaking point.

The next day, though, was a different kind of chaos. For once, Vicky wasn’t home. That’s right. The house was quiet . I could actually hear myself think.

I figured it was my chance to escape the house, maybe get some fresh air, when I found Jess sitting at the kitchen table.

She was rifling through papers, stacks of them scattered all over. Nothing new there. Jess is always buried in work. She has to be; she’s the CEO of JCJennson Electronics now. After our parents died, she stepped up. Took on the entire company like it was nothing.

I used to think that was kind of cool, you know? But now…? It’s just more weight on her shoulders, and I can see the stress in her eyes every time she picks up another stack of papers. I don’t know how she does it, but she does.

Anyway, she didn’t even notice me at first. Not until I leaned against the doorframe and asked, “What’s all this?”

Jess looked up, her face tight with exhaustion. “Same as always, Cyn. Work. I don’t have time to babysit you today.”

She said it like it was a statement of fact, not an insult, but it hit me the same way.

I couldn’t blame her, though. Jess was the oldest. She had the most to lose. She carried the weight of everything—the company, the house, us. I think she hated it. Maybe not all of it, but enough that she pushed herself to the brink.

“You should get some rest,” I muttered, still leaning on the doorframe.

“Rest doesn’t pay the bills,” Jess replied dryly, her fingers running over the papers like she was trying to find some solution she could never seem to reach.

I didn’t say anything else. There was no point. We both knew that.

The house was quiet for once, but it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

And I don’t know why, but I felt like maybe Uzi— the Uzi —was the only thing that might change that. At least for a little while.

The front door creaked open, and in stepped Vicky, looking like she was ready to face a storm. Her shoulders were tense, and her hands were clenched into fists. She wasn’t here to apologize; no, she was ready for Jess to explode on her.

But Jess didn’t yell. In fact, she didn’t even look up from the paperwork she was rifling through. She was tired . Too tired for another fight today.

Vicky lingered by the door for a moment, probably waiting for the inevitable, but when Jess didn’t even flinch, she slowly let out a breath. Her fists unclenched, but there was no smile on her face, no sign of relief. Just a wary, resigned look.

“Jess,” Vicky started, her voice hesitant but still defiant. “About last night—”

“I’m too tired for this,” Jess interrupted flatly. “Just… don’t start, Vicky. Not today.”

Vicky froze. Her mouth opened and closed like she was trying to find the right words, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything to say—it was just that she knew, deep down, it wouldn’t matter. Jess was done fighting.

There was a silence that hung between them, thick and heavy. I could feel the tension crawling up my spine. I was standing by the door, feeling like the third wheel in a family drama that I didn’t want to be a part of.

Vicky glanced over at me, her eyes softening for just a second. She knew I was watching, and maybe she didn’t want me to hear this conversation, but I couldn’t leave. Not when Jess seemed so… detached. She wasn’t angry. She was just… worn down.

“Alright,” Vicky said finally, her voice quieter, more subdued. “I’ll just go to my room. Let you… do whatever it is you’re doing.” She turned away, but not before she shot Jess one last look—one that was full of unsaid words.

Jess didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The silence said everything.

And just like that, Vicky was gone, disappearing down the hallway and into her room.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were all slowly crumbling. Jess wasn’t the same as she used to be. None of us were.

And I knew, deep down, things were about to change. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but it was coming, whether we liked it or not.

I retreat to my room, the door clicking shut behind me as the quiet of my space engulfs me. I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to block out the tension from downstairs. It’s easier to think in here, away from everything.

I’m the youngest. I’m only 12 years old, and sometimes it feels like I’m living in the middle of a storm that’s been brewing for years. Jess is the one holding everything together, even when she looks like she’s about to crack under the weight of it all. She’s nearly 30, and I can’t help but think that she never really got to have a normal life. She’s been dealing with the aftermath of everything—our parents’ deaths, running the company, being the oldest, the one who has to keep us all in line.

Tessa’s about 16 or 17 now, and even though she tries to act like she’s older, I can see it in her eyes. She’s still figuring things out. I think sometimes she wishes she could have the life of a normal teenager, without worrying about us. She spends a lot of time on her own these days, and when she’s not in her room or off with her friends, she’s taking care of us. At least she’s got that kind of warmth in her, even if she doesn’t always show it.

Vicky—she’s 17 or 18 by now—has always been the tough one. She’s been through a lot, but she’s never shown any cracks in her armor. Not like Jess. Vicky’s the one who always takes charge, and most of the time, she does it with a scowl on her face. I don’t think she likes being the second oldest. I’m sure she resents the responsibility that comes with it. She has a way of putting up walls around herself, not letting anyone get close enough to see how much it all really hurts her.

Nick, he’s 19 now. The oldest of us after Jess, but not by much. He’s different from Vicky, though. He doesn’t always take charge, but when he does, people listen. He’s the one who can calm things down when Jess is ready to snap, or when Vicky’s got her guard up. Nick’s got a way of making people feel at ease, even though I know he’s got his own things he keeps to himself.

Then there’s me. The baby. Twelve years old, still trying to figure out where I fit in this mess. Sometimes, I wonder if they even realize how much I’m paying attention to everything—how much I notice. The fights. The cracks in their facades.

I feel so small, like I’m caught in the middle of all of them, and I don’t know if anyone really sees me. It’s hard being the youngest, always trying to figure out what everyone else needs while also trying to stay out of the way. But sometimes, I can’t help it. I watch everything.

And I don’t know how to fix any of it. I don’t know how to fix us.

I roll off the bed, feet hitting the cool floor with a soft thud. The hum of the house’s quiet only intensifies the noise in my head, so I reach for the one thing that always drowns it out: my GameCube.

It’s a beat-up thing, covered in scratches and dust. The handle on top’s cracked, and the buttons are worn from endless hours of use. The old-school controller feels comfortable in my hands, even though it’s seen better days, the rubber on the joystick long gone. But it still works, and that’s enough for me. As long as it keeps running, I’ll keep playing.

I turn on the console, the familiar whirr filling the silence of my room, and I pop in my favorite game. The screen flickers to life, and the music that follows wraps around me like a blanket, muffling the reality of everything I try to forget. I settle into my worn-out beanbag chair, resting my back against the wall and leaning forward to focus on the game.

Here, I can forget about everything—about the arguments downstairs, about the pressures of being the youngest, about how everything feels like it’s falling apart and I’m too small to do anything about it. Here, it’s just me and the screen, and the world outside the room doesn’t exist.

I run my fingers over the controller, mindlessly navigating my character through the familiar landscapes of the game. It’s the one thing that’s always been mine, a distraction from everything. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve played through this—beating the game, unlocking every level, completing every side quest—there’s always a sense of control here. A sense of calm. It’s mine. I can decide what happens.

If only life were like that.

I don’t have to think about the things I hate thinking about—the things I try to forget. Like how Mom and Dad used to scream at us, how the house was never a safe place. They were never really parents, not like how people talk about it. They were abusive, and I grew up knowing that love wasn’t a thing we got to have. Not from them. I grew up watching them fight and hit each other, leaving scars—on each other, on us. And then… they died. It wasn’t a relief, not really. I don’t think it ever could’ve been. But when they were gone, it was like the storm stopped for a second.

But that wasn’t all. I’ll never forget the fire. The night that burned everything.

I scratch at the burn scar on the left side of my face. It’s a habit I’ve picked up, one I hate. It never makes it feel better, only worse. It never makes it go away. I feel my fingers trace the ridges of the scar where the skin is still sensitive, pulling away from the tissue that’s still not healed. It’s just a reminder—of the fire, of the damage. Of how I didn’t get out clean.

My left eye is a faded orb now. It doesn’t work, not like the other one. It’s just there, staring back at me whenever I look in a mirror, mocking me. I don’t know why I do it, but sometimes I just sit and stare at it, trying to make sense of it.

The memory comes back to me. The heat, the smoke, the sound of the fire crackling around us. The smell of burning everything, the confusion, and the panic of running through it all with no way out. I can still see the fire in my mind, even though I don’t have my left eye to see it with.

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away. I’ve been trying to forget that for years.

The game’s still playing in front of me, but I’m not really seeing it anymore. I’m lost in the memories again, a place I go to whenever the world feels too heavy to carry. I sigh, leaning back and closing my good eye for a second, just to block everything out.

I know it’s not healthy, but it’s the only way I know how to survive it.

Chapter Text

Alright, so you’re stuck with me again. I know, I know, but don’t think for a second you’ve got this all figured out. I’m still the one calling the shots here.

So, school. Ugh. That word alone feels like a weight sitting on my chest, like it’s trying to suffocate me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some moody brat who just doesn’t want to deal with people—well, okay, maybe I am a little moody, but that’s beside the point. It’s not about the schoolwork or the stupid cafeteria food. It’s the place itself. The people. Some of them are fine, I guess, but there’s this… one guy. He makes everything feel wrong. Like every second I spend near him is a second wasted, but I can’t get away from him. Not easily.

It’s not like anyone’s ever going to care about that, though. They all just think I’m being a kid who wants attention, right? That’s what they think when I act up. When I try to stay home. When I skip class. But who can blame me? Who wouldn’t want to avoid the thing that makes them feel sick every time they have to face it?

My stomach does this stupid flip when I even think about it. I don’t even want to leave my room. But here we are. No way out.

If I could just stay in bed all day, pretend the world doesn’t exist, I would. But no. That’s not an option. It never is.

The sound of Jess yelling from downstairs cuts through my thoughts. She’s mad about something, probably Vicky. Or maybe it’s something else. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Not when all I can think about is how to avoid the one guy who ruins everything.

But it’s fine, right? I’ll just go. Get it over with. Maybe I can sneak through the halls and avoid him. Maybe he’ll forget I even exist today.

But who am I kidding? He never forgets.

I drag myself out of bed, still debating whether I can fake sick convincingly enough to stay home. Probably not. Jess always sees through me. She doesn’t even ask anymore; she just gives me that look —the one that says, “You’re going whether you like it or not.”

As I’m yanking on my hoodie, I hear it. Jess yelling. But for once, it’s not at Vicky. That’s new. Vicky’s usually her favorite punching bag when it comes to yelling matches. This time, it’s Tessa.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done?” Jess snaps, her voice carrying up the stairs. “This was important , Tessa! Now it’s completely ruined!”

I poke my head out of my room just in time to hear Tessa stammer out, “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to knock it over—”

“You never mean to, but you always manage to make a mess of things!” Jess interrupts, but then stops herself. I can practically hear her taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. She doesn’t completely lose it, though. Not this time.

I creep down the stairs just enough to see Tessa standing by the dining table, looking like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Jess is holding a stack of wet paperwork, probably the stuff Tessa spilled coffee on. Jess’s jaw is clenched, and for a second, I think she’s going to start yelling again. But then she just tosses the papers on the table and mutters, “Just… go. I’ll deal with it.”

Tessa doesn’t say anything. She just nods and bolts past Jess, probably heading for her room or anywhere else but here.

I step back before Jess catches me watching. The last thing I need is to get caught in the crossfire.

But still, I can’t help but think about how Jess always has to have everything perfect. One little mistake, and she acts like the world’s ending. It’s exhausting just being around her sometimes. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Tessa, getting that kind of pressure all the time.

Not that it matters. I’ve got my own mess to deal with today.

The rest of the morning is the usual mess—Jess barking orders like she’s running a company boardroom, Nick pretending he’s not completely checked out, Tessa trying to stay invisible after the coffee incident, and Vicky doing her best to keep her head down. Just another normal day in the circus we call a family.

I barely register any of it. My mind’s stuck on what’s waiting for me at school.

Mr. Alden.

Everyone thinks he’s perfect. The kind of teacher who goes above and beyond. He’s always smiling, always patient, always just so kind . Parents love him. Other teachers love him. Even the principal gives him extra funding for his class projects.

But that’s not the Mr. Alden I know.

I know the way his smile falters when nobody’s around, how he lingers just a little too long, how his hand rests on my shoulder when it doesn’t need to. I know the way he corners girls like me after class, his voice so calm, so convincing, making it feel like maybe I’m the crazy one.

But I’m not. And neither are the others.

I bite my lip, trying to think of a way out. Maybe I could skip first period? Hide out in the bathroom until the bell rings? But he’ll probably notice I’m gone. He always notices.

Maybe if I just—

“Cyn!” Jess’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “You’re going to miss the bus!”

I grab my bag and shuffle out the door, my heart sinking with every step closer to the bus stop. I don’t have a plan. Not yet. But I’ve got to figure out something. Anything.

Because if I don’t, I know exactly how today’s going to go. And I can’t stand it anymore.

The classroom feels colder than it should, even with the sun streaming through the windows. My seat is right up front, of course—Mr. Alden insists on it. “So I can better guide your potential,” he always says, his voice dripping with fake sincerity.

I shuffle to my desk, keeping my head low, hoping maybe today he’ll just leave me alone. No such luck.

“Good morning, Cynthia,” he says as I sit down, his tone way too warm for eight in the morning. “You’re looking sharp today.”

I glance up briefly, nodding just enough to be polite before focusing on the notebook in front of me. If I can keep my answers short, maybe he’ll move on.

“And that scar,” he continues, his voice dropping a little, like he’s trying to sound understanding or whatever. “You know, I think it really adds character. Makes you stand out in a good way.”

There it is. The same line he’s used a dozen times before.

I don’t say anything. What am I even supposed to say to that? Thanks? Like I’m grateful for a constant reminder of everything I’ve been through?

I scribble nonsense in the margins of my notebook to avoid looking at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. It’s not like the way Jess or Nick look at me when they’re annoyed, or the way Tessa does when she’s trying to understand me. No, his gaze feels like a trap, like a lion sizing up its next meal.

“I mean it, Cynthia,” he says, his voice soft now. “You’re a unique girl. One of a kind.”

I grip my pen tighter. If he says one more word, I think I might actually scream.

But I don’t. I can’t.

Because no one else sees it. To everyone else, he’s the nice teacher who cares about his students. If I say anything, it’ll be my word against his, and we all know how that ends.

The bell rings, finally breaking the tension. I exhale slowly as the other kids file in, giving me a brief moment of relief.

But I know this isn’t over. Not even close.

The rest of class drags by in a blur. I’m not even sure what Mr. Alden is saying half the time. Something about historical figures or whatever. I’m too busy counting the minutes until I can escape.

When the clock hits 10:15, I seize my chance.

“Mr. Alden,” I say, forcing my voice to sound steady. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, Cynthia. Take your time.”

I don’t stick around long enough to hear the rest of whatever he’s about to say.

I don’t actually head to the nearest bathroom either—that’d be the first place he’d check if he gets suspicious. Instead, I make my way across the building, slipping into the high school wing. The hallways are quieter here, the chatter of younger kids replaced by a kind of weary silence.

Finally, I push open the door to one of the high school bathrooms. The place is dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights that buzz faintly. It’s not exactly inviting, but it’s perfect for hiding.

I lock myself in the farthest stall and sink onto the closed toilet seat, pulling my knees to my chest.

Safe. For now.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm down. The sound of the faucet dripping is almost soothing in the emptiness of the room.

But my peace doesn’t last long.

The door creaks open, and I hear heavy boots on the tiled floor.

“Of course it’s occupied,” a familiar, raspy voice mutters. “Because why wouldn’t it be?”

Uzi.

I peek through the gap in the stall door and see her rummaging in her bag. She pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, leaning against the sink to light up.

I want to stay quiet, invisible, but the smell of smoke fills the air, and I can’t help but cough.

Uzi freezes, her eyes snapping toward my stall. “Alright who’s in there?”

For a second, I consider not answering. But this is Uzi we’re talking about. She’ll just kick the door down if I don’t say something.

“It’s me,” I mumble.

She blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Cyn? What are you doing in here?”

I open the stall door just enough to stick my head out. “Hiding.”

“From who? The bathroom police?” she says, exhaling a puff of smoke.

I glare at her. “No. Just…someone.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and for a second, it looks like she’s actually concerned. “What’s going on?”

I hesitate, my fingers gripping the edge of the stall door. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to tell anyone. But Uzi doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere.

“It’s just…my teacher,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes narrow. “What about him?”

I shake my head. “Forget it. You wouldn’t get it.”

Uzi stares at me for a moment, then sighs, stubbing out her cigarette on the sink. “Fine. But you’re not hiding out in here all day, okay?”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pack of gum, tossing it to me. “Take this. It’ll help with the smell of smoke when you go back to class.”

I catch it, staring at her in surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Just trying to be nice or whatever.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving me alone in the bathroom.

I glance down at the pack of gum in my hands and can’t help but smile.

Maybe Uzi isn’t so bad after all.

I’m about to leave when the bathroom door creaks open again.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook yet, Cyn.”

Uzi’s voice bounces off the tiles, and she strides back in like she owns the place, her boots scuffing against the floor.

I groan, slumping against the sink. “What now?”

She crosses her arms, glaring at me like I’m some problem she’s been assigned to solve. “Nick would kill me if he found out I left you in here, clearly upset and hiding from…whatever this is.”

I flinch at the mention of Nick, my arms instinctively wrapping around myself.

Uzi notices. Her expression softens—just a bit. “Look, I don’t care what’s going on. But you’re twelve, Cyn. You’re, like, half my size, and you’re not supposed to deal with stuff like this alone.”

I stare at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“Come on,” she presses, leaning against the sink beside me. “Just…say something. Anything. What’s going on? What’s got you so spooked you’re hiding in a high school bathroom?”

I hesitate, my fingers fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. “It’s nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

She snorts. “Try me.”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s serious. For all her sarcasm and cigarette-smoking, Uzi actually cares.

“My teacher,” I mumble, barely audible.

Uzi tilts her head. “What about him?”

I shake my head, my nails digging into my palms. “He just…he makes comments. Says things that make my skin crawl. And he looks at me like…” My voice trails off, and I feel the burn of tears threatening to fall.

Uzi’s expression shifts from curious to something darker—anger, maybe. She straightens, her arms falling to her sides. “Wait. Are you saying he’s—”

I cut her off, my voice sharp. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

She raises her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. But, Cyn…this is serious.”

I shrug, avoiding her gaze. “What am I supposed to do? Everyone else thinks he’s perfect. They’d never believe me.”

Uzi leans against the sink again, her jaw tight. “Someone would. Nick, for one. Maybe even Jess, if she’d stop yelling long enough to listen.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, sure. Like Jess cares about anything but her stupid company.”

Uzi doesn’t argue. She just sighs and rubs the back of her neck.

“Look,” she says after a moment, her voice softer. “I’m not saying you have to do anything right now. But you don’t have to deal with this alone, Cyn. You’ve got me, at least. And Nick would go full big-brother mode if he found out.”

Her words catch me off guard, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a tiny flicker of hope.

“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Don’t mention it,” Uzi says, offering me a small, lopsided grin. “Seriously. Don’t mention it. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Despite myself, I smile back. Maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

The lunchroom is a mess of clinking trays, scattered conversations, and the occasional loud laugh that cuts through the noise. I’m clutching my tray like it’s a lifeline as I weave through the tables, searching for a quiet corner where I can hide until lunch is over.

That’s when I spot her—Uzi—slumped at a table in the farthest corner, a hoodie pulled over her head like she’s trying to disappear. It’s kind of comforting knowing I’m not the only one who feels like a ghost around here.

“Hey,” I mumble as I slide into the seat across from her.

She glances up, one eyebrow raised. “You lost, kid?”

I shrug, setting my tray down. “We’re both losers. Might as well stick together.”

Her lips twitch into something resembling a smile. “Fair point.”

We sit in silence for a while, picking at our food. It’s weirdly nice, not having to say anything.

“Still thinking about…you know?” she asks, breaking the quiet.

I nod, my fingers tapping against the edge of my tray. “Yeah. But I’m trying not to.”

“Good.” She leans back, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Dwelling on it won’t help. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Before I can respond, a voice cuts through the relative peace we’ve managed to carve out.

“There you are, Uzi.”

I flinch at the sharp tone, and we both turn to see Vicky striding toward us, her arms crossed and her expression thunderous.

Uzi groans, slumping further into her chair. “Oh, great. Here comes the cavalry.”

Vicky stops in front of our table, glaring down at Uzi. “You seriously thought you could just ignore me after what you did?”

Uzi raises an eyebrow. “What I did? You mean that whole ‘almost running Cyn over’ thing? Yeah, I remember.”

Vicky’s glare shifts to me, and I shrink under her gaze. “She could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“I said I was sorry,” Uzi says, her tone flat. “And she’s fine. Right, Cyn?”

I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak.

Vicky doesn’t look convinced. “That’s not the point. You’re reckless, Uzi. And if you think for one second I’m going to let you drag my little sister into whatever mess your life is—”

Uzi stands abruptly, cutting her off. “First of all, your sister decided to sit with me. Second, maybe you should stop acting like you’re perfect and actually listen to her for once.”

Vicky’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I’m sure she’s going to yell. But then she glances at me, her expression softening just a fraction.

“Cyn,” she says, her voice quieter. “You don’t have to hang around people like her. You know that, right?”

I blink, unsure how to respond.

Uzi rolls her eyes. “People like me? Seriously?”

Vicky doesn’t respond. She just shakes her head and walks away, muttering something under her breath.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Uzi collapses back into her chair with a loud sigh. “Your sister’s a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, poking at my food.

We fall back into silence, and for the first time, I feel like I’m not completely alone in this mess.

The uneasy peace between me and Uzi doesn’t last long. Just as we’re starting to actually enjoy the silence, someone else approaches our table.

“Tessa?” I ask, surprised, as she slides into the seat next to me.

She offers a weak smile, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than usual. Her hair’s a little messier than she usually keeps it, and she’s got this tired slump in her shoulders that makes me feel bad for her.

“Hey, Cyn,” she says softly, her voice barely audible over the lunchroom chaos. “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”

I glance at Uzi, who shrugs like she couldn’t care less. “Uh, sure.”

Tessa sets her tray down but doesn’t touch her food. She’s just staring off into space, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“You okay?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Tessa hesitates before letting out a heavy sigh. “Jess wasn’t exactly…kind this morning.”

Uzi snorts, finally looking up from her tray. “When is she ever kind?”

I shoot her a warning look, but Tessa just shakes her head. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but…it’s Jess. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” I mumble, my hands tightening into fists.

Tessa glances at me, her tired eyes softening. “Don’t worry about me, Cyn. I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Uzi pipes up, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Because you don’t look fine.”

Tessa lets out a small laugh, but it’s humorless. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

The table falls silent again, the weight of the morning’s drama hanging heavy in the air.

“Hey,” Uzi says after a moment, her tone surprisingly gentle. “If you need to vent or whatever, I’m pretty good at pretending to listen.”

Tessa cracks a real smile this time, even if it’s a small one. “Thanks, Uzi.”

I look between the two of them, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and relief. It’s not often that Uzi shows her softer side, and seeing Tessa smile, even a little, makes me feel like maybe today won’t be so bad after all.

Uzi glances over at me, her eyes narrowed in that way that makes it clear she’s thinking something I might not want her to say. My stomach drops. I know what’s coming.

“Okay, listen,” Uzi starts, leaning in slightly. “I don’t know much, but I overheard some stuff. Cyn’s teacher… he’s—” She pauses, clearly weighing her words carefully. “He’s bad news. He’s been making her uncomfortable for a while, and not just her.”

I feel my heart skip a beat. I don’t want Tessa to hear about it, not now, not like this. But Uzi’s already spilled the beans. I look down at my tray, trying to pretend I’m not shaking a little.

Tessa’s expression hardens as she processes what Uzi’s said. Her eyebrows furrow deeply, and I can see the protective streak that runs deep within her snap into focus. “What? He’s been… making her uncomfortable? Are you serious?”

I avoid Tessa’s gaze, knowing she’s already worked herself into a state of protective rage. But I feel it, too. The anger. The helplessness.

“Yeah,” Uzi says, her voice soft but firm. “Cyn hasn’t told you about him, has she? She’s… she’s not exactly the type to talk about it.”

“Cyn…” Tessa says, her voice dangerously low, “is that true?”

I flinch at the sound of my name. “I—” I start, but I can’t find the words to explain. To say it out loud makes it feel real, too real. “It’s… not a big deal,” I mutter, hoping they’ll drop it.

But Tessa’s having none of it. “Not a big deal? You think that’s nothing?” Her hand slams onto the table with enough force that the trays clink, causing the people nearby to glance over at us. I’m not sure if I feel embarrassed or relieved that Tessa’s the one reacting this way and not me.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, softer now, “but no. This isn’t something you just brush off.” She looks to Uzi, then back at me. “We’re talking about a grown man preying on kids, Cyn. That’s… that’s wrong. You can’t just let it go.”

I shrink into my seat. It feels like I’m on trial. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Uzi interrupts, glancing over at Tessa with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not like anyone’s going to believe you if you tell someone, anyway.”

Tessa’s head jerks back, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t they believe her?”

Uzi leans back, looking casual but serious. “Because that’s how it works, right? They always protect the ‘good teachers.’” She rolls her eyes. “The system’s messed up.”

Tessa looks at me again, her face a mix of confusion and disbelief. “I don’t get it. Why hasn’t anyone said anything? Why haven’t you told someone, Cyn?”

I shake my head. “I can’t. It won’t help. He’ll just deny it, and it’ll look like I’m just—” I stop myself, not wanting to finish that sentence, but the words hang there anyway, unspoken but clear in the air.

“It’s messed up, right?” Uzi says, almost bitterly. “You’re stuck. He’s the kind of guy who gets away with it, and you’re not the only one he’s done this to.”

Tessa’s face is red now, her fists clenched on the table. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, Cyn. You don’t have to hide it.”

I want to tell her it’s not worth the fight, that it’s easier to pretend nothing’s wrong, but I can’t. Not now.

“I just…” I start, but my voice cracks. “I just want to forget it, you know? I don’t want to deal with it.”

Tessa exhales, clearly torn between comforting me and wanting to tear down the world that’s allowed things like this to happen. “You don’t have to forget it. But if you ever decide you want to, or need to talk… you’ve got people who care.”

Uzi nudges me with her elbow, a small, knowing smirk on her face. “You’re not alone, Cyn. And we’ll figure out what to do about this guy.”

I nod, feeling the weight of their words, though part of me still wants to retreat. But maybe… maybe Uzi’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.

The rest of the school day is a blur. I don’t really hear much of what’s being said in class, and I certainly don’t care about the homework or the tests that’ll probably come later. I just keep replaying the conversation with Uzi and Tessa in my head, and I can’t shake the weight of it. There’s a heaviness in my chest that refuses to go away.

When the bell rings at the end of the day, I don’t rush out of the school like I usually do. I’m not in any hurry to get home, especially with what’s waiting for me. But eventually, I find myself walking through the front door of the house, hearing the familiar sound of voices in the kitchen.

Tessa’s here already. She must have gotten out early.

I peek around the corner and freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Jess is sitting at the kitchen table, but she’s not her usual icy, composed self. There’s no CEO facade—none of her usual sharp authority. She looks… tired. Like the weight of something she didn’t expect is settling on her shoulders. Tessa’s standing beside her, and I hear snippets of their conversation.

“…what Uzi said,” Tessa is saying, her voice soft but serious. “Cyn’s teacher… He’s been making her uncomfortable for a while now. And it’s not just her. It’s other girls too. But Cyn doesn’t think anyone will believe her.”

I feel my heart drop. Jess is going to explode. I just know it.

But instead of the anger I expect, Jess just sits there, silent for a long moment. Her hands are folded on the table, and she doesn’t look at Tessa. She looks at the papers in front of her, like she’s trying to make sense of something she can’t process.

Her voice cracks when she finally speaks, and I almost don’t recognize it. “How… how could I not know?” Jess whispers, more to herself than anyone else. “How did I not see it?”

I stay hidden around the corner, feeling like I’m intruding on something that shouldn’t be shared. But part of me wants to hear her reaction. Wants to know what Jess, the one person who’s supposed to have it all together, will say.

Tessa doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she sighs, taking a step closer to Jess. “He’s good at hiding it. He’s got the whole ‘model teacher’ persona going for him. But… that doesn’t make it right.”

Jess’s shoulders slump, and I hear the sharp exhale she lets out as if she’s been holding her breath for too long. “I never… I never thought about it. Not like that.” Her voice is hollow now, like she’s lost. “God, I should’ve known. I should’ve done something.”

Tessa reaches over, resting a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “None of us did. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something now.”

The air in the room feels heavy. Jess isn’t yelling. She isn’t demanding answers or making threats. She just looks… lost. Like a part of her is broken, like she doesn’t know what to do with the information she’s just been given.

I stand frozen for a moment longer, my own heart aching with the silence that hangs in the air. I’ve seen Jess angry before—she’s a force to be reckoned with when she’s furious. But this? This is different. It’s like she doesn’t know how to be angry at something this ugly. Like there’s no way to fix it.

Eventually, Jess stands up, a strained breath escaping her lips. “I need to… I need to think about this. I’ll deal with it later.”

Tessa nods, her gaze softening. “I know. But just… don’t bury it, okay? Whatever you decide to do, you’ve got support. We all do.”

I can’t hear Jess’s response, but I don’t need to. I already know she’s going to try and fix this in her own way—her way of controlling everything. I can feel it in my bones. But this time, I don’t think there’s any controlling it.

I’m not sure I can explain it, but it’s like a shift has happened in the house. Jess isn’t the same towering figure she always is. She’s… human. And for once, I don’t think she’s got all the answers. I think she’s just as scared and confused as the rest of us.

I step into the kitchen slowly, not sure if I’m ready for whatever comes next.

Jess’s eyes flick up to meet mine. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then she just nods, like she’s trying to tell me she’s here, even if she doesn’t know what to do.

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. I know she’ll figure it out. But part of me is still scared. Scared of what’ll happen when Jess does decide to take action. Scared of what’ll happen to me when she does.

But for now, the silence between us feels… oddly comforting.

I just hope we don’t screw this up...

Jess motions for me to come closer, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually hesitate before I move. I’ve never been the hugging type. I don’t know why, but something about it always felt… off. But this time, something’s different.

I step forward slowly, unsure of what exactly I’m supposed to do, but then Jess opens her arms, and I’m drawn into them without thinking. The second her arms wrap around me, I can feel the weight of everything she’s been holding in. Her body trembles ever so slightly as she presses her face into my shoulder, and for a moment, it’s like the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

Jess doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. I can feel her shoulders shaking with every breath she takes, and it hits me harder than anything else ever has. She’s crying. She’s crying, and it’s not like before. There’s no anger, no sharp words. Just… raw guilt.

I’ve never seen Jess like this. She’s always been the one in charge, the one everyone turned to for answers, the one who had control of everything. But right now, she doesn’t have any of that. She’s just… a person. Just Jess.

I feel my own chest tighten as I stand there in her arms, my arms stiff at my sides, unsure of how to react. The older I get, the less I know what to say in moments like this. But I don’t need to say anything

She doesn’t pull away, though. She keeps holding me, and her grip tightens just slightly. I don’t think she’s ready to let go yet, like she’s trying to make up for all the times she couldn’t protect me, couldn’t be the one to stop it.

I don’t know how long we stand there in silence, but when she finally pulls back, there’s a softness in her eyes that I rarely see. It’s not the cold, calculating look she usually gives everyone—it’s vulnerability, and it’s almost strange to witness.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking like she’s still trying to hold herself together. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been there.”

I can’t bring myself to say anything back. The words don’t feel right, and honestly, I don’t need them. What Jess doesn’t know is that she didn’t fail me, not in the way she’s thinking. The people who failed me? They’re long gone. And what happened wasn’t her fault.

But I don’t say that either. I don’t need to make her feel worse than she already does.

Instead, I just nod, offering the smallest of smiles, trying to tell her it’s okay. But I’m not sure I believe it, and I don’t think Jess does either.

Still, there’s something different now, some understanding between us that wasn’t there before. I don’t know what will happen next or how Jess is going to handle this, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like we’re both standing on equal ground.

Chapter Text

Jessica Marie Elliot.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking—CEO of JCJennson Electronics, eldest sister of the Elliot siblings, with a neat business suit and a clipboard in hand. I’m sure you have some image in your head of what I’m supposed to be. And honestly? I don’t mind that. It’s easy to wear this façade. Easy to keep everything together when it feels like the whole world is watching, expecting me to always be perfect.

But let’s be clear: no one really knows me. Not the way they think they do.

I can feel the weight of my name more than anything these days. I’ve spent years building this company, taking it from the ground up after our parents died. And I did it alone. No, that’s not true. I had my siblings. But at the end of the day, it was my responsibility to carry us forward. It’s what I do. It’s who I’ve become.

But now? Now I’m holding onto something I don’t know how to fix. Not this time.

Cyn.

My baby sister. The one I should’ve been protecting. The one I failed.

I could feel her eyes on me, even when I wasn’t looking. Every word I said earlier today when I tried to comfort her… it didn’t feel right. I felt like a stranger to her. She wasn’t the same girl anymore. And I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to trust me either.

There’s a part of me—well, a lot of me—that keeps going over the same thought: Why didn’t I notice?

How could I have been so blind? How could I have been so caught up in my own life, my own responsibilities, that I missed the signs? I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve paid attention. I should’ve been there for her.

I could’ve stopped it. Maybe.

But here I am now, dealing with the aftermath of years of neglect, wondering if it’s too late to make things right.

I could hear the others in the house, Vicky yelling at Tessa, again. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Cyn. My mind kept circling back to her, to her trauma. How could I have failed to protect her? How could anyone let a monster like that teacher into her life?

The shame is suffocating, pulling at me from every angle. I can’t let it show, though. I have to be strong. For Cyn. For all of us.

But God, it’s hard. I’ve spent so long trying to keep it together for everyone else, for the business, for the family… But who the hell is there for me?

I noticed that Vicky’s usual storming around the house had been strangely quiet today. There were no ear-piercing arguments, no slamming doors, no demands for attention. For once, she wasn’t yelling at me, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for that small mercy. It gave me a chance to think—or, at least, attempt to.

Nick had been gone since the night before, off doing who knows what, and honestly, I didn’t mind. He’s 19, for God’s sake. He can handle himself. He doesn’t need me hovering over him. And yet, part of me wanted him home, just to know someone else could take charge for a change.

But that wasn’t happening.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Cyn. Her face—pale, distant—haunted me in ways I couldn’t explain. She was so quiet now, so withdrawn, so… broken. The thing is, I never really had to be the nurturing one. That was always Tessa’s role, or maybe even Vicky’s in her own strange way. I was supposed to be the strong one, the one who took care of everything. But I wasn’t even sure how to handle this.

I ran my fingers through my hair, a futile attempt to stop the incessant thoughts racing through my mind. For a few moments, the house was still. I could actually hear my own thoughts, and the silence felt almost suffocating.

It wasn’t long before I stood up, pacing around the kitchen. I couldn’t focus on anything. Nothing seemed important. Not the upcoming board meeting, not the company’s quarterly earnings report… none of it. None of it mattered when Cyn was in such a fragile state.

I sighed, running my hand over my tired eyes.

Maybe it was time I stepped back, even if just for a little while. I hadn’t worn anything but a suit in literal years. Corporate meetings, phone calls, endless paperwork—it was always the same. The routine had become suffocating, like a second skin that I could no longer peel off.

With a click of my phone, I made the call.

“Hello, this is Jessica Elliot,” I said, forcing the usual calm professionalism into my voice. “I need someone to fill in for me as CEO for the next few days. I’m taking a temporary leave of absence.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before the voice of my assistant came through, as steady as always. “Understood, Ms. Elliot. I’ll arrange for someone to step in. Is there anything else you need?”

I swallowed hard, then replied in a voice I hardly recognized as my own. “Just… make sure everything’s covered. I’ll be unavailable.”

I ended the call with a click, setting the phone down hard on the counter.

For the first time in years, I was allowing myself to feel something other than the weight of responsibility.

I needed this. I needed time away from everything. The company, the constant pressure, the expectations.

I needed to be with my family. Specifically, with Cyn. And I had no idea where this road would lead, but I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, letting myself feel the rare, almost foreign sensation of letting go.

The peace I’d been clinging to shattered the moment I heard the telltale stomping of Vicky’s boots. I didn’t even have to look up to know what was coming—her footsteps alone carried the weight of someone determined to start trouble.

So much for my moment of silence.

She burst into the kitchen, her face twisted in that familiar mix of frustration and defiance, practically radiating, I’m going to start a fight whether you like it or not.

“Tessa took my phone!” she declared, arms crossed, as if daring me to side against her. “Again!”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course. I could handle board meetings, stockholder negotiations, and billion-dollar contracts without breaking a sweat. But refereeing yet another round of sibling squabbles? That was a whole different battlefield.

“Vicky, do you really think this is worth yelling about?” I asked, my tone even but clearly strained.

“Uh, yeah! She had no right!” Vicky snapped, slamming her hands on the counter for extra effect. “It’s my phone. My property. And she can’t just take it every time she decides she doesn’t like what I’m doing with it!”

“And what were you doing with it this time?” I asked, leaning back against the counter with a raised brow.

Vicky faltered for just a second, her eyes darting to the side. Then she crossed her arms tighter, as if doubling down on her resolve. “That’s not the point! The point is, Tessa has no business playing phone police!”

“Did you try talking to her about it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, right,” Vicky scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Like that’s gonna solve anything.”

I sighed again, my patience thinning by the second. “Vicky, I don’t have time for this. If you want your phone back, talk to Tessa and sort it out like adults. I’m not getting involved.”

“But she—”

“Not. Getting. Involved,” I repeated, cutting her off firmly.

She stared at me for a moment, her mouth slightly open as if she were about to protest. Then, with a frustrated groan, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, muttering something under her breath about “nobody ever being on her side.”

As the sound of her stomping faded down the hall, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. This was my life—putting out fires, one sibling at a time. And somehow, the flames just kept coming.

For the first time in years, I felt truly helpless. I was used to being the one with all the answers, the one who could fix anything with a plan, a phone call, or sheer force of will. But this…this was different.

I glanced at the kitchen table, where a half-finished stack of paperwork lay abandoned, now smeared with dried coffee stains. It was a perfect metaphor for the state of my life right now—messy, chaotic, and desperately in need of cleaning up.

Cyn. The thought of her teacher’s face—his saccharine smile, the false charm he projected—made my stomach twist. And yet, despite everything I’d learned, I still didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t a therapist. I wasn’t trained to handle this kind of situation. But I could at least find someone who was.

With a deep breath, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts, looking for the number of someone who might have answers. After a moment, I found it—a referral from one of my corporate HR contacts for a family therapy service.

It felt strange, calling for help. Asking for it, even. I wasn’t used to admitting I couldn’t handle something on my own. But if there was one thing I couldn’t risk, it was doing nothing.

The line rang twice before a warm, professional voice answered. “Hello, this is Dr. Alvarez’s office. How can I assist you today?”

“Hi,” I said, my voice unusually tight. “I’m…looking to schedule an appointment. Actually, a few appointments. For myself and my siblings.”

“Of course,” the receptionist said smoothly. “May I ask the ages of the individuals involved?”

I hesitated. “The youngest is twelve, the oldest is nineteen. There are five of us.”

“Understood. Are there any specific concerns or situations we should be aware of before scheduling?”

I gripped the edge of the counter, forcing myself to stay calm. “It’s…complicated. But one of my siblings, the youngest, has been dealing with something very serious. I think we all need help—her especially.”

The receptionist’s tone softened. “Thank you for sharing that. We can certainly accommodate family sessions, as well as individual counseling. I’ll check Dr. Alvarez’s availability and get back to you with the earliest appointment times.”

“Thank you,” I said, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

As I ended the call, I felt a faint flicker of relief. It wasn’t a solution, not yet. But it was a step. And right now, that was all I could ask for.

Now came the hard part—telling my siblings. If getting them to sit through a dinner without bickering was a challenge, convincing them to go to therapy might just be impossible.

But I owed it to Cyn. To all of them. I just had to hope they’d see it that way too.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what I was about to do. Tessa was in her room, Cyn was likely playing her ancient GameCube again, and Vicky…well, I’d heard her stomping around somewhere in the house. It was now or never.

Stepping into the hallway, I called out, “Tessa, Cyn, Vicky—kitchen. Now.”

It didn’t take long for the three of them to trickle in. Tessa arrived first, her usual nervous energy muted after the morning’s chaos. Cyn followed, looking up at me with curiosity, clutching her favorite controller like a safety blanket. Vicky was last, arms crossed and a scowl plastered on her face.

“What now?” Vicky asked, her tone dripping with impatience. “You’re not going to yell at me for existing, are you?”

I ignored the jab, folding my arms and leaning back against the counter. “I need to talk to all of you. It’s important.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Does this have to do with Cyn’s teacher?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s not just about Cyn. It’s about all of us.” I let my gaze drift between them, trying to gauge their reactions. “I’ve scheduled counseling and therapy sessions for everyone. We all need it.”

For a moment, there was silence. I braced myself for protests, sarcastic remarks, or outright refusals. But none of them came.

Cyn was the first to speak, her voice small. “You really think therapy will help?”

“I do,” I said firmly. “And not just for you. For me. For all of us.”

Tessa nodded slowly. “Honestly…I think it’s a good idea. After everything that’s happened…yeah.”

To my surprise, Vicky didn’t roll her eyes or argue. She uncrossed her arms and slumped into a chair. “Whatever. Probably overdue anyway.”

The tension in my chest eased just a fraction. I looked at Cyn, who gave a small, hesitant nod. “Okay,” she said softly.

I hadn’t expected it to be this easy, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I cleared my throat. “I’ll tell Nick when he gets home. In the meantime…thank you. All of you. For not fighting me on this.”

Vicky smirked faintly. “Don’t push your luck, Jess.”

The corners of my mouth twitched. “Noted.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe—just maybe—we’d get through this together.

As the others left the kitchen, I found myself lingering. Cyn had barely spoken during the conversation, and while she’d agreed to therapy, her quiet acceptance felt more like resignation than relief. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to do more for her—something immediate, something small.

I straightened up and walked toward her room. The faint sound of buttons being pressed and the muted soundtrack of an old video game grew louder as I approached. I knocked lightly on her doorframe, leaning in.

Cyn glanced up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, the controller gripped tightly in her hands. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking…” I hesitated, then pushed forward. “Do you have any multiplayer games for that thing?” I nodded toward the ancient GameCube sitting on her makeshift entertainment center.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“And is there even a second controller that still works?”

Her surprise gave way to a faint smile, and she shrugged. “There might be one. It’s, like, duct-taped together, though. Why?”

I stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I thought maybe we could play something. Together.”

Cyn stared at me like I’d just suggested we fly to the moon. “You? Want to play video games?”

I shrugged, trying to play it casual. “What, you think I’ve forgotten how to hold a controller? I used to be decent at Mario Kart back in the day.”

She chuckled, a small but genuine sound. “Yeah, sure. Let’s see how decent you are, Miss CEO.”

She rummaged through a box of tangled cords and miscellaneous junk, finally pulling out a battered second controller. “Here. Don’t blame me if it falls apart mid-game.”

I took the controller, examining the duct-taped monstrosity with a skeptical eyebrow. “This thing’s seen better days.”

“Hasn’t everything in this house?” Cyn muttered, setting up the game.

She selected Mario Kart: Double Dash—a classic, apparently—and handed me the second slot. As the countdown began, I realized it had been years since I’d last played. Cyn, on the other hand, clearly hadn’t skipped a beat.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you,” she said with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I shot back, gripping the controller like my life depended on it.

For the next hour, I forgot about work, responsibilities, and the weight of everything hanging over us. Cyn’s laughter filled the room as she effortlessly destroyed me in race after race. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was actually connecting with my little sister—not as the CEO, not as the makeshift guardian, but just as Jess.

Chapter Text

Nick burst through the front door like a whirlwind, his voice cutting through the hum of the old game in Cyn’s room. “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

Cyn and I exchanged a confused glance as his footsteps thudded down the hall toward us. Before either of us could ask what he was doing, Nick appeared in the doorway, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“What now, Nick?” I asked, still holding the duct-taped controller in my hand.

He held up a sleek, shiny Nintendo Switch like it was the Holy Grail. In his other hand was a copy of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate , a set of extra Joy-Cons, and—because Nick could never just stop there—a Mario-themed water bottle.

“Family game night!” he announced triumphantly.

Cyn blinked at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Since when do we have family game night?”

“Since I decided we should,” Nick said, stepping into the room and practically radiating smug satisfaction. “You’re welcome, by the way. This came out of my own paycheck.”

I set the battered GameCube controller aside and crossed my arms, giving him a skeptical look. “You do realize that just buying a Switch doesn’t magically make us the Brady Bunch, right?”

Nick waved off my comment with a flourish. “Come on, Jess. Lighten up. When’s the last time we all did something together that didn’t involve yelling?”

He had a point. Not that I was going to say it out loud.

“Fine,” I relented, standing up and stretching. “Let’s see if you can actually get everyone into the same room without someone throwing a punch.”

Nick smirked, undeterred. “Watch and learn.”

He disappeared down the hall, shouting for Tessa, Vicky, and anyone else who might be within earshot. Cyn stood up, brushing off her jeans.

“Think he’ll actually pull it off?” she asked.

I shrugged. “If nothing else, it’ll be entertaining to watch him try.”

By some miracle—or sheer force of Nick’s charisma—he managed to wrangle everyone into the living room within ten minutes. Tessa and Vicky looked less than thrilled to be there, but they came anyway, and even brought a bowl of popcorn to share. Cyn and I settled onto the couch, while Nick hooked up the Switch to the TV with the enthusiasm of a man on a mission.

“Alright,” he said, straightening up and turning to face us like some sort of overly confident game show host. “Let’s settle this once and for all. Who’s the best Smash Bros. player in this family?”

“Not you,” Vicky muttered, earning a snicker from Cyn.

Nick ignored her, tossing each of us a Joy-Con. “Pick your fighters, people. It’s time to throw down.”

As we all chose our characters—Cyn opting for Kirby, Tessa picking Zelda, Vicky grabbing Samus, and me tentatively selecting Peach—I couldn’t help but glance around the room. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no yelling, no tension. Just all of us, crowded around the TV, laughing as we tried to outplay each other.

Nick, of course, talked the most trash, only to get knocked out first in every round. Cyn absolutely destroyed everyone with a surprisingly ruthless Kirby strategy. Even Tessa and Vicky were laughing by the end of it, their usual bickering forgotten in the heat of battle.

And me? I wasn’t half bad at Peach, though I suspected Cyn let me win a few rounds just to be nice.

For a few hours, the weight I’d been carrying—everything with Cyn, work, our fractured family—felt just a little bit lighter. It wasn’t a fix, not by a long shot. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

My name is Uzi Marigold Doorman—not that anyone calls me Mary, thank God. It’s been a few months since I last checked into this mess of a narrative, and trust me, I haven’t exactly been thriving in the meantime. Life’s been…complicated. Messy. A train wreck with flames still billowing from the wreckage.

I’m self-aware enough to admit I’m not handling things in the healthiest way. My smoking habit? It’s gotten worse—like, way worse. There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t hate myself for it. I can feel it in my chest every time I inhale, the way my lungs burn just a little more each time. I keep telling myself I’ll quit, but the words are hollow.

And now, because life is nothing but a series of bad decisions stacked on top of each other, I’ve picked up a whole new set of habits that I’d love to pretend don’t exist. Xanax, Adderall—it’s not like I’m popping them by the handful or anything, but let’s just say I’ve developed a little too much dependence on them. Just enough to keep the edge off, to make everything seem… manageable.

It’s a problem. I know it’s a problem. But knowing and stopping are two entirely different things.

Some days, I look in the mirror, and I barely recognize the girl staring back. This wasn’t supposed to be me. I wasn’t supposed to be this mess of nicotine, pills, and bad coping mechanisms. And yet, here I am.

I glance around the cluttered living room, the smell of cat litter faint but ever-present. Aunt Alice’s house is chaos incarnate. She’s the textbook definition of a crazy cat lady, complete with an army of felines that practically run the place. There’s Mr. Mittens sprawled across the coffee table, Sir Fluffington perched on the back of the couch, and a dozen others lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to ambush my ankles.

Alice herself is… well, let’s just say she’s a character. She’s got this wild brunette hair that always looks like she just walked out of a wind tunnel, and there’s a definite crazy streak to her that she tries to hide— tries being the key word here. At school, where she teaches English, she’s all buttoned-up and professional, playing the part of a responsible adult. But here? At home? She’s the kind of woman who’ll argue with a stray cat for sitting on her favorite chair and then feed it a can of tuna like nothing happened.

I’m convinced there’s more going on with her than she lets on. Specifically, I’m pretty sure she’s head over heels for Mr. Liam Cooper, the physics teacher at school. They’re both single, around the same age, and there’s this weird, flirty tension between them whenever they’re in the same room. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I’ve caught her doodling his name in the margins of her lesson plans. Yes, doodling. It’s like middle school all over again.

If you ask me, they’re either going to get married or kill each other. Probably both.

I sit back against the couch, letting out a sigh as I pick at the hem of my sleeve. The chaos of Aunt Alice’s house is strangely comforting, though I’d never admit it out loud. Just as I’m about to reach for my phone, a soft thud catches my attention. A small, familiar weight lands on my lap.

“Hey, Onyx,” I mumble, looking down at the sleek black cat now curling up against me. His mismatched eyes—one golden, the other icy blue—blink up at me, his tail flicking lazily as he settles in.

Onyx is the one cat I actually like. I practically raised him from a kitten after finding him stuck in a storm drain near school last year. He’d been soaking wet, terrified, and way too scrawny for his own good. I took him home, fed him, and convinced Dad to let me keep him—temporarily. Of course, temporarily turned into permanently, at least until Khan decided we “couldn’t handle pets at the moment.”

Translation? He couldn’t handle pets at the moment. So, here Onyx is, living his best life with Alice and her feline army.

I stroke his fur absentmindedly, and he lets out a low, rumbling purr. “At least one of us is happy here,” I mutter, though I don’t really mean it. If I’m being honest, I’m glad he’s here and not at home. With the way things are falling apart, this place is probably the best shot he’s got at a semi-normal life.

“You’re lucky, you know that?” I say quietly, scratching behind his ears. “This house might be a mess, but at least Alice actually cares.”

Onyx responds by nuzzling against my hand, and I can’t help but smile a little. Out of everyone in this crazy family, he’s probably the only one who gets me.

I barely have time to register the sound of Alice’s footsteps before she makes her grand entrance, balancing a plate of what looks like a turkey club sandwich and a side of, something, in one hand, her other arm outstretched like she’s presenting herself at some formal event. Three cats follow her closely, their tails twitching with predatory focus on the food.

“Don’t even think about it, you little gremlins,” Alice warns them, narrowing her eyes. She perches on the armrest of a chair, somehow managing to keep her plate safe as one of the cats—the orange tabby named Marmalade—makes a daring leap toward her lap.

I watch the spectacle for a moment, Onyx still purring contentedly in my lap. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I ask, “Hey, Alice?”

She looks up, her expression somewhere between curious and amused. “Yeah, kiddo?”

I hesitate. I’ve never really talked about Mom with anyone—not Dad, not Jess, not even myself most days. But something about Alice’s easygoing attitude makes me think she won’t brush me off or get all weird about it.

“What was Mom like? And Aunt Yeva, too, I guess. I barely remember Mom, and Dad doesn’t…you know, he doesn’t really talk about her.” I glance down, fiddling with Onyx’s ear to avoid looking Alice in the eye.

For a moment, Alice doesn’t respond, and I worry I’ve crossed some unspoken line. But then she sets her plate down on the coffee table, her face softening in a way I don’t see often.

“Oh, Nori…” Alice leans back, staring at the ceiling like she’s pulling memories out of the air. “Your mom was something else. Wild, stubborn, fearless—sometimes to a fault.”

I snort softly. “Sounds familiar.”

Alice grins. “Yeah, you definitely got that from her. She could talk anyone into anything. One time, back in the late ’70s, she convinced Yeva and me to go roof-hopping with her.”

I blink. “Roof-hopping? Like, jumping between rooftops?”

“Yup.” Alice chuckles, shaking her head. “She made it sound like the coolest thing ever, like we were superheroes or something. Yeva and I were so dumb back then, we went along with it. Everything was fine until Nori miscalculated a jump and fell.”

My breath catches. “What happened?”

“She broke her arm,” Alice says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Landed on a dumpster, thank God, or it could’ve been worse. But here’s the crazy part—she just laughed it off. She’s sitting there with her arm bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t have been, cracking jokes about how she ‘stuck the landing.’”

I can’t help but smile a little, despite the ridiculousness of the story. “That’s insane.”

“Yeah, well, that was your mom,” Alice says, her voice tinged with fondness. “She was always dragging us into trouble and somehow coming out of it with nothing worse than a few bruises. Yeva was the cautious one, always trying to reel her in. I guess I was somewhere in the middle—just stupid enough to follow along, but smart enough to know when to bail.”

She picks up her sandwich, taking a bite before continuing. “You’ve got a lot of her in you, you know. That fire, that stubbornness. It’s a good thing, Uzi, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

I look down at Onyx, my hand still resting on his sleek fur. “Thanks, Alice.”

She waves me off with her sandwich hand. “Don’t mention it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish this before Marmalade decides it’s his lunch.”

As if on cue, the orange tabby leaps for her plate again, and Alice yelps, narrowly saving her sandwich from its demise. I laugh, a real laugh, and for a moment, the weight on my chest feels just a little bit lighter.

After Alice manages to shoo Marmalade away and reclaim her lunch, I sit there, staring at Onyx as he curls up tighter in my lap. The moment of lightness fades, replaced by the familiar weight I’ve been carrying around for months. My chest feels tight, my throat dry. I know I should probably just drop it, pretend everything’s fine like always, but…something about Alice makes me feel like I don’t have to.

I take a shaky breath and blurt it out before I lose my nerve. “Alice, I…I need to tell you something.”

She looks up mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up, kiddo?”

I shift awkwardly, my hands tightening on Onyx. “I’ve been smoking. A lot. Like, more than I should. And…I’ve been taking pills, too. Stuff like Xanax and Adderall. It’s not good, and I know it’s not good, but…I don’t know how to stop.”

Alice freezes, her sandwich hovering inches from her mouth. For a split second, I expect her to drop it, forget her lunch entirely, and start tearing into me about how reckless and stupid I’m being. That’s what Dad would do. That’s what I deserve, probably.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she sets her sandwich down carefully on the plate, leans back in her chair, and gives me a long, searching look. Not angry, not disappointed—just…understanding.

“Well,” she says finally, her voice calm, “you’re not exactly the first Doorman to go down that road.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

Alice sighs, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me, your mom, Yeva—we all smoked when we were your age. Popped pills, too, though back then it was stuff like uppers and downers. We thought it made us cool, invincible, like we could handle anything life threw at us. Spoiler alert: we couldn’t.”

I stare at her, trying to reconcile this image of my wild, unbreakable mother and her sisters with the stories Dad always told me—the perfect, put-together Nori who never made a mistake in her life. “You were…like me?”

“Exactly like you,” Alice says, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “Maybe worse, if I’m being honest. But you know what I learned? The more you lean on that stuff, the harder it gets to stand on your own. And the longer you wait to stop, the harder it gets to quit.”

I look away, my chest tightening even more. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Alice says firmly, her voice cutting through the noise in my head. “You’re a Doorman. We’re stubborn as hell, remember? You’ve just got to want it bad enough. And trust me, kid, you don’t want to end up where I did—twenty-five, broke, and too scared to ask for help until it was almost too late.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “How did you…stop?”

Alice leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I didn’t do it alone, that’s for sure. Yeva helped, and later Nori. I went to therapy, started running to keep my hands busy, found hobbies that didn’t involve killing myself slowly.” She meets my eyes, her gaze steady and serious. “But the first step? I had to admit I had a problem. And that’s what you just did, Uzi. That’s huge.”

I swallow hard, blinking back tears I didn’t realize were forming. “So…what do I do now?”

“Now?” Alice smiles gently. “Now, you let me help you. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? No pressure, no judgment—just me, you, and a little bit of stubborn Doorman grit.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, a tiny flicker of hope ignites in my chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there. I nod slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “Okay.”

Alice reaches over to pat my hand, her other hand gesturing as she talks, her focus completely on me. “You’ve got me, kiddo. And if you don’t feel comfortable talking to your dad about this yet, that’s fine. We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

She’s so caught up in her pep talk that she doesn’t notice Marmalade and Tuna creeping onto the table, their little noses twitching as they inch closer to her plate. I spot them immediately, of course, but for some reason, I don’t say anything. Maybe I just want to see how long it’ll take her to notice.

Marmalade strikes first, darting in to snag a piece of turkey off Alice’s sandwich. He drags it onto the floor, triumphant, and Tuna decides to follow his lead, nosing her way into Alice’s salad. By the time Marmalade’s on his second bite and Tuna’s pawing at a cherry tomato, I can’t hold it in anymore. A snort escapes me, then a full-on laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Alice asks, her brow furrowing as she finally glances down at her plate. Her eyes widen when she sees the chaos unfolding before her. “Oh, for crying out loud—Marmalade! Tuna! Get down!”

She lunges for the sandwich, but Marmalade’s too quick, grabbing another piece and darting under the table. Tuna, meanwhile, flicks her tail smugly and hops off the table with a leaf of lettuce dangling from her mouth.

Alice groans, burying her face in her hands. “Every time I let my guard down…”

I’m laughing so hard now that tears are streaming down my face. Onyx even stretches lazily in my lap, as if amused by the commotion.

Alice glares at me, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Oh, sure, laugh it up, Uzi. This is what happens when you have seven cats—they form a criminal organization and steal your lunch.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have brought the food parade into the living room,” I manage to say between giggles. “You’re kind of asking for it.”

“Noted,” she says dryly, snatching what’s left of her sandwich off the plate before the next cat decides to give it a go. “But if I starve to death, you’ll have to deal with your problems on your own, you know.”

That only makes me laugh harder, and for a moment, the weight of everything lifts just a little.

Monday morning hits like a punch to the gut, but I try to shake it off as I walk down the hall of the school. I’ve barely even had time to pull myself together after the weekend—too much lingering guilt, too many thoughts spinning around in my head. The sound of students laughing and chatting echoes around me, but I’m not really hearing them. Not until I spot a familiar face.

Nick.

He’s standing near his locker, looking just as out of place as I feel. His hair is a little longer than I remember, and he’s dressed in that same faded band tee I swear he’s been wearing for days. He’s doing his best to look casual, but there’s something off in the way he holds himself. It’s like he knows he doesn’t belong here.

I slow down, not sure if I’m about to have an awkward run-in or if I should just keep walking. But, as usual, I’m not good at ignoring things.

I offer him a small wave as I approach. “What are you doing here?” The question sounds dumb even as I say it, but it’s too late to take it back.

He looks up from his locker, his eyes widening slightly, and then he glances around before answering in a hushed voice. “What am I doing here? I could ask you the same thing. I thought you’d have graduated last year.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, giving a shrug. “I flunked senior year. It happens. What about you?” I don’t mean to sound smug, but I feel a little better knowing I’m not the only one who messed up.

Nick’s face darkens for a second, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Same. Got held back. Jess wasn’t too thrilled, and I guess I’m here for a do-over or something. You know, the classic second chance bullshit.”

There’s a long pause between us, neither of us really knowing what to say. The hall feels suddenly quieter, and I can feel the tension building. It’s like we’re two strangers trying to make small talk about something neither of us wants to admit: we’re both stuck here, not really where we thought we’d be.

“That sucks,” I finally say, leaning against the lockers, trying to make this less weird. “But hey, at least we’re not alone in this.”

Nick looks at me, half-smiling. “Yeah, guess so. Welcome to the ‘I’m a fuck-up’ club.”

“Thanks,” I mumble back, my voice a little quieter now. “Not sure how much of a club I want to be in, though.”

Nick chuckles, a little awkwardly, but it feels less forced. “I get that. Maybe this year will be different. You never know.”

I nod, but inside, I’m not so sure. I don’t know if anything’s ever going to feel different again.

A month passes. Slowly. Slowly enough for me to barely notice the change until it’s right in front of me, slapping me across the face.

I’d started visiting Nick’s house a lot more often. It wasn’t planned, it just kind of… happened. His sisters—Vicky, Tessa, and Cyn—had this weird dynamic where they all found the idea of me and Nick together hilarious. The first time they started making jokes about us dating, I didn’t think anything of it. Just their usual brand of teasing, which I mostly ignored.

But as the weeks went on, their comments kept coming. Every time I’d show up to hang out with him and play Super Smash Bros—which I’d somehow started enjoying more than I’d care to admit—Vicky would raise an eyebrow and say, “You two lovebirds finally admit it yet?”

Tessa would roll her eyes but grin, throwing in some sarcastic comment like, “Uzi, I swear, just make a move already. We’re all dying over here.”

Cyn, of course, would just smirk and mumble something under her breath about how we’d probably make a good team—probably just to mess with me.

At first, I brushed it off, convinced it was just sibling nonsense. But then it started to stick. The jokes. The glances. The teasing that wasn’t quite so casual anymore. The weird thing was, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It was subtle at first. I’d catch myself looking at Nick when he wasn’t paying attention, like I was studying him. He was always so chill, so easygoing, even when everything else felt like a mess. I didn’t know if it was because he was a mess too, or if there was something else about him—something that made me feel oddly… safe? Or maybe it was just the way he made me laugh when everything else felt heavy. He had this way of not taking anything too seriously, and sometimes I wished I could be more like that.

When I wasn’t with him, I found myself thinking about him more than I should. His laugh. His terrible jokes. The way he’d lean in, just a little too close when I was kicking his ass at Mario Kart. And the way he didn’t let his life feel like a disaster, even when everything around him was on fire. That, I realized, was the most attractive thing about him. He didn’t let himself break under the weight of it all. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be him or be with him.

One evening, we were playing Smash Bros again, and Cyn made one of her usual comments. “You two gonna just keep playing, or do we get a wedding invitation soon?”

I was in the middle of trying to land a knockout punch on Nick’s character, but my fingers paused on the controller as I looked up at her. I could feel my cheeks flush for a second, a feeling I quickly brushed away. “Shut up, Cyn,” I muttered, trying to focus on the game again, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I wasn’t sure if I was just annoyed by the constant teasing or if something else was starting to surface.

Nick, as usual, didn’t seem bothered at all. He shrugged, grinning. “Guess we’ll see, huh? But if Uzi wants a date, she’s gonna have to at least beat me first.”

“Oh, I’ll beat you,” I shot back without thinking, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t get your hopes up, man. You’ll be stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

It was a joke. A challenge. But there was something else there too. A weird, unexpected undertone. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I could feel it now. This strange pull whenever Nick was around, a curiosity I couldn’t quite explain.

And the more time I spent with him, the more I realized it wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was about him. About us, maybe. And damn if that wasn’t a problem I wasn’t ready to deal with.

The match ended, and I slouched back in my seat, cursing myself for letting Nick beat me again. It wasn’t even close this time, and I hated that I was getting worse at the game.

Nick was practically glowing from his victory, leaning back in his chair with that smug grin he always got when he won. “Guess that’s another one for me,” he teased, making a show of wiping his brow dramatically.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the controller tighter. “You’re lucky I’m letting you win, dude.”

Nick chuckled and was about to say something back when the door to the living room creaked open. We both turned just in time to see Jess step into the room, looking as pristine and business-like as always. The last time I’d seen her—really seen her—was when she’d been on break from work. She wasn’t CEO Jess then; she was just Jess. But now, there was no mistaking the change. Her posture was sharper, more controlled. She looked… well, like a CEO.

And I realized, for the first time in a long while, that she was also probably the last person I wanted to see right now.

“Hey, guys,” Jess greeted, her eyes flicking between Nick and me. Her gaze lingered a little too long on me before moving to Nick, then back to me again. I could practically feel the tension in the air, and suddenly, the space between us felt too small. “Having a good time?”

Nick glanced at her, nodding. “Yeah, just finishing up a game.”

I didn’t speak. Instead, I pretended to fiddle with the controller in my hands, trying to look like I wasn’t holding my breath.

Jess crossed her arms, surveying us for a moment before her lips quirked into a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She tilted her head. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. You two seem… cozy.”

I froze, the blood rushing to my face as I instantly understood what she was referring to. Damn it. The teasing. The way Nick and I had been laughing a little too easily with each other. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to stay just a joke for long.

Nick, oblivious to the shift in the air, shrugged with a casualness I was too tense to manage. “Nah, nothing big. Just smashing it up, you know?”

Jess’s smile didn’t falter, but I could tell she’d heard enough. “Uh-huh. So, you guys were joking about… dating, huh?” she asked, her tone just a little too sweet to be innocent.

I felt my throat tighten. There was no way she hadn’t overheard. Damn it. Of all the people to overhear that conversation, it had to be her. The last thing I needed right now was Jess—the CEO, the boss, the person who seemed to have everything figured out—finding out that I couldn’t even handle a simple joke without it making my stomach twist.

Nick blinked, clearly unaware of what Jess meant by that. “Oh, that? Yeah, I mean, it’s just a joke, right?” he said, laughing awkwardly. “Nothing serious.”

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. “It’s really not a big deal,” I muttered, trying to sound casual, but the words felt like they were choking me.

Jess took a step closer, her eyes never leaving me, and I could see the way she studied me—like she could tell I was hiding something, even if I didn’t know what exactly I was hiding.

“Yeah, sure, not a big deal at all,” she said, her voice a little too light. “But for the record, Uzi, if it ever becomes a big deal, you don’t need to hide it from me.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I looked up at her, but Jess wasn’t looking at me in the way I expected. There was something softer there—something that made me feel like I was both being seen and dismissed at the same time.

Nick seemed to sense the change in the room and stood up, stretching. “Okay, okay,” he said, clapping his hands together loudly. “How about we all just chill, huh? You wanna join us, Jess? We’ve got some other games too, you know. It’s not just Smash Bros.”

Jess finally looked at him, then back at me. For a second, it felt like time stretched out. But then, just as quickly, she shook her head. “Nah, I’m good for now.” She looked at me one last time, her expression unreadable. “But just remember, Uzi—if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

With that, Jess turned and left the room as silently as she came in, leaving behind a weight that seemed to linger in the air.

I sat there, frozen, the words “you don’t need to hide it from me” echoing in my head. Something shifted in me, but I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t sure how to process it, let alone how to deal with it.

Nick cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, that was… interesting.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, still too caught up in what Jess had said. “You could say that.”

I was still sitting there, trying to wrap my head around what just happened with Jess, when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of Jess’s voice from down the hallway. It wasn’t the usual calm, collected CEO tone. No, this was the exasperated, slightly tired, but still firm tone that parents sometimes used when they were done with the nonsense.

“Cynthia Scarlet Elliot!” Jess called out, her voice carrying into the living room like a verbal thunderclap.

I winced, knowing exactly who she was talking to. The youngest Elliot sibling, Cyn. And if there was one thing I knew about Cyn, it was that when Jess used her full name, it meant business.

I looked at Nick, who shrugged with a quiet chuckle. “Guess it’s one of those days.”

But it was the next words out of Jess’s mouth that made me sit up straighter, my heart beating a little faster.

“Cyn, you need to take the meds the therapist prescribed to you!” Jess continued, her voice much softer now but still carrying that hint of annoyance. “We agreed, remember? You can’t just keep ignoring them like this. It’s not helping anyone, especially not you.”

I could hear Cyn’s response, muffled, but the frustration in her voice was clear. “I’m fine, Jess, I don’t need them!” she snapped, though I could hear the way her voice wavered, like she wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

“That’s not how this works, Cyn,” Jess said, her tone now much more patient but still firm. “You can’t just keep pretending like everything’s okay when you know it isn’t. You agreed to this. So stop fighting it, please.”

I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew the struggle. Hell, I was practically living it with my own problems—smoking, pills, all of it. But hearing Jess trying so hard to get Cyn to take her meds made me realize something. She cared . Jess cared more than I think anyone realized. It wasn’t just about being a CEO or playing the role of a guardian. She was trying to help.

But Cyn, as always, didn’t make it easy.

“Why do you always have to act like everything’s so bad?” Cyn shot back, and I could hear her voice cracking slightly, though she tried to hide it. “I’m fine! I don’t need them. They’re stupid!”

Jess sighed, clearly worn down, but there was a softness in her response that made me feel for her. “Cyn, you can’t keep ignoring your problems like this. I know it’s hard, but taking the meds, even just for a little while, could help you feel better. I’m not saying it’s going to fix everything, but it’s a start. Please, for me?”

I didn’t know if it was Jess’s pleading tone or something else that made me feel that little sting in my chest. It wasn’t just the meds they were talking about—it was the desperation, the care, the sheer exhaustion in Jess’s voice. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jess was holding on to more than she let on. She was always so strong, so put-together, but right now, she sounded tired. Like she was carrying a burden that no one really saw.

Nick shifted in his seat beside me, his eyes flicking toward the hallway where the argument was playing out. “You know,” he said softly, “I think Cyn’s been really tough on Jess lately. More than usual.”

I nodded absently, my thoughts still on Jess’s voice. “Yeah, she has. But I think Jess is just trying to do what’s best for her. She’s been like that, you know? Even if she acts like she’s all CEO-business all the time, when it comes to family, she’s… she’s not gonna give up.”

Nick’s gaze softened. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I think she forgets she’s human, though.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to respond to that, so I stayed quiet, letting the weight of his words sit with me. It was hard not to agree. Jess always gave off this invincible, unshakable vibe, but right now, listening to her try to get Cyn to take her meds, it was clear that she was just as fragile as the rest of us.

The silence stretched on for a moment before we both heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Jess appeared in the doorway again, looking slightly disheveled but not defeated. Her eyes met mine for a brief second, then she glanced at Nick, her usual professionalism slipping back into place.

“So,” she started, crossing her arms, “what’s next? Smash Bros rematch, or should I find a way to get you two to take some meds instead?”

I shot her a look, but the familiar teasing edge in her voice made me feel like we were back on familiar ground. The tension from before had melted away, but I could still feel the sting of her words—her exhaustion, her frustration.

Nick grinned. “We’re ready for a rematch, right, Uzi?”

I didn’t answer immediately, still lost in my thoughts. But eventually, I nodded, my fingers itching for the controller. “Yeah. Let’s go. But this time, I’m not going easy on you, Nick.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, and for a split second, I saw something in her expression. Something vulnerable, almost… relieved. “Good,” she said, before turning and heading back into the hallway.

I followed, but a small part of me stayed behind, watching Jess’s retreating figure. There was more going on than I could see, but one thing was certain: Jess wasn’t going to stop fighting for the people she loved.

And neither was I.

As the game continued, I couldn’t help but feel my attention start to drift. The controller in my hands felt heavier than usual, and I could barely focus on the screen. All I could think about was Nick.

It wasn’t just his voice, or the way he teased me, or even the way his eyes flicked toward me every so often, as if he knew something I didn’t. It was the feeling—the electric, almost unbearable tension that hung between us. It had started off as something small, easy to ignore, but over the last month, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe… just maybe, he was starting to feel something too.

It had to be something. There was no way I was this obsessed without there being something there, right?

Nick, oblivious to my growing thoughts, focused intently on the game, his fingers moving rapidly on the controller.

“Uzi, you still with me?” he asked, his voice breaking through the fog in my mind.

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the present moment. “Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just, uh… zoning out.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick said, his lips curling into that teasing grin. “I totally believe that.” He didn’t miss a beat. “C’mon, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all night. Like you’re in another universe.”

I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I shifted in my seat, suddenly restless. Something about his attention felt overwhelming, but in the best way possible. I needed to get out of here, to take a breath, to talk to him. But how?

“Hey, Nick,” I said, my voice a little shakier than I’d intended. “Do you wanna… step out on the porch for a bit? I need some air.”

He glanced at me, arching an eyebrow. “Air? We’re indoors, Uzi.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Yeah, alright. I could use a break anyway.” He put the controller down and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s go.”

As we made our way to the porch, the cool night air hit me like a splash of water. I shivered a little, though not from the cold. It was more from the nervousness that swirled in my chest, the gnawing feeling that I was about to do something I hadn’t even fully figured out yet.

Nick stepped outside, his casual demeanor easing my nerves a little. He leaned against the railing, his arms folded, giving me a sideways glance. “So, what’s up? You need to talk about something?”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This was it. If I didn’t ask him now, I wasn’t sure I ever would. “Yeah,” I said quietly, my heart thudding in my chest. “I’ve been thinking about something… for a while now.”

Nick didn’t speak at first, waiting for me to continue. The silence between us stretched, making everything feel too loud, too important.

Finally, I said, “I was just wondering… if you, um…” I swallowed, suddenly realizing how ridiculous this sounded. “If you like me. Like, like like me. More than just a friend, I mean.”

I could feel the words hanging in the air between us, heavier than anything I’d ever said. The nerves made it hard to breathe, but I forced myself to keep eye contact with him.

Nick blinked a few times, clearly caught off guard. His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but then he hesitated.

I quickly added, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, I just—”

“Uzi,” Nick interrupted, his voice a little softer than usual, making me stop. His eyes softened as they locked with mine. “You… seriously think I don’t like you?”

I froze, my heart racing. “Wait, what?”

He chuckled lightly, pushing himself off the railing and taking a step toward me. “You really don’t get it, huh?” He took another step, his hand brushing against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

It was like everything around me stopped—like I was holding my breath, waiting for the next moment. His presence was overwhelming, and for a second, I felt like I might explode.

“Uzi,” he said again, this time in a low voice. “I’ve liked you for a long time.” His words were calm, but there was a depth to them that made my heart skip.

Before I could fully process what he just said, his hand brushed against my cheek, sending a warmth through me. And before I could even think to stop myself, I leaned into his touch, my breath catching.

And then, before either of us could say another word, he leaned down—slowly, deliberately. His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, like he was waiting for me to pull away.

But I didn’t.

I kissed him back, my heart pounding as the world around us disappeared. It wasn’t just a kiss—it felt like something more. It felt like everything had led to this moment, to this feeling that had been building between us, too slow, too steady to notice until now.

His hand moved to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. And I was drowning in it, in him, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his hands on me. I couldn’t help it. My mind, already wandering into risky territory, imagined what it might be like to have him touch me in other ways. His hands on my waist, his lips on my skin…

I shook the thought away, realizing where my mind was going. But I couldn’t stop the rush of desire that pulsed through me.

When we finally pulled back, I was breathless, and so was he. Nick smiled, but there was something different about it—something warmer, something that felt more real than anything I’d ever felt before.

“That was… nice,” he said, his voice rough with the same electricity I felt in my chest.

I grinned, still catching my breath. “Yeah… nice,” I repeated.

But as the cool air wrapped around us, I realized something else: this was just the beginning...

Chapter Text

I plopped onto the edge of my bed, ignoring the squeak of the old mattress and the mess all around me. “Sorry about the disaster zone,” I muttered, motioning to the piles of clothes, empty soda cans, and notebooks strewn across every available surface.

Nick leaned back in my desk chair, nudging a soda can with his foot. “You weren’t kidding when you called it that.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned, grabbing a balled-up sock from my bed and chucking it at him.

He laughed, ducking easily and grinning at me like he was enjoying himself way too much for someone sitting in the middle of my chaos. I tried not to smile back, but it was hard. I wasn’t used to people seeing my room, let alone not caring about the mess.

For a while, we just sat there, the silence filled with the quiet hum of the fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards. I fiddled with the edge of my blanket, my brain spiraling into its usual overthinking mode.

Then Nick broke the silence. “Hey, Uzi?” His tone was softer now, not teasing anymore.

I glanced at him, my fingers freezing on the blanket. “What?”

“I’ve been wondering,” he said, leaning forward a little, “why do you always seem so… on edge? Even when we’re just hanging out, it’s like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “I… what?”

“You’re guarded,” he said, not backing down. “Like, all the time. I’m not trying to push, but… why?”

For a second, I thought about brushing it off with a joke or some sarcastic comment. That was easier. But then I looked at Nick—his stupid, honest face—and something in my chest twisted. He wasn’t trying to pry. He just wanted to understand.

I sighed, leaning forward so my elbows rested on my knees. “It’s… complicated.”

“Take your time,” he said, his voice steady, like he had all the time in the world to wait for me to untangle my brain.

I stared at the floor, my hands twisting together. “There was this guy. Sam. Back in high school.” My voice was quieter now, the words dragging themselves out of me. “We dated for, like, two months. I thought it was good—like, really good. Turns out, it wasn’t.”

Nick didn’t say anything, but I could feel him listening.

“He was the school pothead,” I continued, my mouth dry. “I thought he liked me, but I guess I was just a joke. Some idiot dared him to date the ‘weird goth girl’ for a month, and he did. He even stuck around longer just to rub it in.” I tried to laugh, but it came out bitter and cracked. “I didn’t find out until he and his friends started bragging about it at lunch. In front of everyone.”

Nick’s jaw clenched. “What an asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach still twisted at the memory. “That’s why I don’t let people get close. I learned my lesson.”

For a moment, Nick just sat there, his eyes fixed on me in that annoying, earnest way of his. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Uzi, that guy was an idiot. And he didn’t deserve you.”

I blinked at him, my heart doing this weird, embarrassing stutter.

“I’m not him,” he said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to keep your guard up with me.”

My breath caught, and for a second, I couldn’t say anything. How do you respond to something like that?

Nick reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Take your time,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not in a rush.”

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to keep running.

Nick moved from the chair, settling beside me on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I stiffened, my heart already racing faster than I wanted to admit.

His hand brushed against mine, then moved to rest on my arm, his fingers warm and gentle as they traced soothing patterns. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

I nodded, but it wasn’t entirely true. There was something about the way he touched me—so careful, like I might shatter—that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t know how to handle.

I hated how my brain was running away with itself. His touch was innocent, comforting. But my thoughts? They were anything but.

My throat felt dry, and I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my breathing hitched every time his hand shifted slightly. I wasn’t used to this—any of this. Being close to someone, trusting someone, feeling… wanted.

“You sure?” he asked again, his voice pulling me back.

I forced myself to look at him, his face closer now than it had been before. His dark eyes searched mine, concerned but patient.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little too high, a little too quick.

He smiled, and his hand slid from my arm to rest lightly on my back. “You don’t have to overthink everything, you know,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s okay to just… be.”

Easy for him to say. I felt like I was about to combust. Every little thing he did—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at me—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

I tried to focus on something else, anything else, but my brain refused to cooperate. All I could think about was how close he was. How his hand on my back felt warm and steady, and how badly I wanted—

Nope. Not going there.

I swallowed hard and forced a laugh, trying to defuse the tension I’d created in my own head. “You’re dangerously good at this whole ‘getting me out of my own head’ thing.”

Nick grinned, his hand still resting on my back. “It’s a talent.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, shifting awkwardly, “don’t let it go to your head.”

But the truth was, his touch wasn’t just pulling me out of my head—it was pulling me into something else entirely. And I wasn’t sure I could stop it.

Before my mind could fully dive into the uncharted, gutter-level depths it was clearly heading toward, Doll walked by my bedroom door. Perfect timing.

As always, she muttered a few things in Russian that I didn’t quite catch. I was still trying to figure out if she was cursing or just making snarky commentary. Judging by the smirk on her face when she poked her head inside, it was probably both.

“Uzi,” she said, switching to English in that sing-song voice she used when she was about to say something wildly inappropriate, “if you and your boyfriend are gonna get handsy, maybe go somewhere less… pathetic.” She gestured vaguely at the disaster zone that was my room, then raised an eyebrow at Nick. “You’ve got her turning red like a tomato already. Nice work.”

I froze. Of course, she’d noticed. Doll always noticed.

Nick turned to me, clearly confused at first, but when he looked closer and saw my expression—my face burning, my hands gripping the edge of the bed like it might save me from spontaneously combusting—I saw the realization dawn on him.

“Oh,” he said softly, a teasing grin creeping onto his face. “Oh.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, shoving him lightly, which only made him laugh.

Doll, clearly satisfied with her work, disappeared down the hallway, humming to herself. I wanted to strangle her, but also maybe thank her, because at least now Nick knew he was affecting me without me having to awkwardly explain it myself.

“Didn’t realize I had that kind of power,” Nick said, leaning back a little and studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he wanted to solve.

“You don’t,” I lied, crossing my arms over my chest like that would somehow make me seem more composed.

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Shut up,” I muttered again, my face still burning.

He just laughed, leaning closer again, and I swore if Doll walked by one more time, I was going to scream.

I kept my arms crossed, mostly to hide how flustered I was, but then my mind started to wander to a much darker place.

Flat. That was the word. I was flat. Flat chest. Flat backside. Just… flat. Like a freaking piece of cardboard.

Why was Nick even into me? I wasn’t exactly—

“Hey,” Nick’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts like a lifeline, pulling me back before I sank too deep. He tilted his head, his hazel eyes soft and full of something I didn’t deserve: concern.

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, scooting a little closer, like he was afraid I’d bolt if he moved too fast. “The thing where you beat yourself up for no reason.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try lying,” he interrupted, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You think I can’t tell by now?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he leaned in, resting his hand on mine, and suddenly all coherent thoughts went right out the window.

“For the record,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that made my heart do backflips, “I think you’re perfect.”

My brain short-circuited. “W-what?”

“Perfect,” he repeated, grinning now. “You heard me. And I don’t just mean the way you look, even though, yeah, you’re beautiful.” His fingers brushed over mine, sending sparks racing up my arm. “I mean the way your brain works—how smart you are, how passionate you get about the things you care about. How you’re always so stubborn and full of fire, even when you’re mad at me.”

I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You’re just saying that,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not,” he said firmly, his grin softening into something more serious. “I mean every word, Uzi. You’re amazing. And I don’t care if you’re flat, curvy, or shaped like a potato.”

I laughed despite myself, shoving him lightly. “A potato?”

“You’d be the cutest potato ever,” he teased, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto my face. Nick always knew exactly what to say to stop me from falling into my own head. As much as I hated to admit it, maybe he really did mean it. Maybe… just maybe, he thought I was enough.

Chapter Text

Hey, Cyn here again, let’s just say Shadow Mario can go die in a ditch! I was so close. Just a few more seconds, and I would’ve caught Shadow Mario. I was deep into Super Mario Sunshine, chasing him down, my fingers moving like they were part of the controller. It felt like I was in the zone. Everything else faded away, the noise, the mess of the house… it didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the game.

I was so focused that I didn’t even hear Uzi sitting on the bed behind me until she spoke.

“You know,” she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm, “kids your age usually have their noses buried in iPads, not… ancient consoles.”

I didn’t look up. Why would I? She always had something to say about my old-school games. “Yeah, well, this is better,” I muttered, still chasing down the stupid Shadow Mario. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I could feel her eyes on me, though. I knew she was watching me like I was some kind of rare species or something. She always did that when I was playing. It didn’t bother me. At least it wasn’t a judgment. But she had a point—this GameCube was definitely ancient, like really old. Jess had given it to me a couple of years ago, and it had barely held up. But it was still kicking.

Uzi sighed behind me. “You’re seriously telling me this old thing is better than, I don’t know, the Switch in the living room?”

I paused for just a second, considering. Yeah, the Switch was sleek and all, but there was something about this GameCube. Something familiar, like it was my own little world. Plus, I knew exactly how to play it. I didn’t have to waste time setting up anything new or downloading updates. This thing worked.

“This thing’s more reliable than your phone,” I shot back.

She rolled her eyes, but I saw her lips twitch. She was about to respond, but then—bzzzzt! The screen flickered.

I froze, my fingers still on the controller. What the hell? The screen blinked. Once. Twice. And then—

It froze.

“Uh, Cyn?” Uzi asked, her voice barely audible now, probably sensing something was wrong.

I clenched my jaw. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” I muttered to myself. I hammered a couple of buttons, trying to get the game to start up again. The screen stayed frozen.

What the hell?

Uzi’s voice came again, more concerned this time. “Cyn… that doesn’t look normal.”

I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let it break. It couldn’t break. I tapped more furiously, hoping the screen would just go back to normal.

But it didn’t.

The GameCube screen stayed frozen, taunting me.

I could feel the anger starting to build in my chest, tightening like a vice. I hit the buttons harder, hoping—praying—it would do something, anything.

“It’s fine,” I said again, almost like a mantra, but my voice was wavering now. “It’s not broken.”

The screen flickered again, and then—

A thin wisp of smoke.

I stared at it. I couldn’t look away.

Oh god. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

“Cyn?” Uzi said, this time a little more urgently. “Cyn, I think it’s really broken.”

I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the console, hoping it would just start working again. But nothing happened. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. It was like the room was closing in around me.

I didn’t even realize I was gripping the controller so tight my knuckles were white.

I didn’t answer Uzi right away. I just… didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to admit it was broken. I couldn’t.

But the truth was right in front of me, in the form of that stupid little puff of smoke.

I dropped the controller, the sound of it hitting the floor louder than I expected. My heart was racing, and for the first time, I actually felt a little panicked. My fingers twitched like I wanted to fix it, but I knew I couldn’t.

It was over.

I sat down on the floor next to the GameCube, staring at the screen. “It’s… it’s really broken.”

Uzi didn’t say anything for a moment. But I could feel her eyes on me, and I could feel her words starting to form in the air between us.

“It’s just a game, Cyn,” she finally said, soft but matter-of-fact.

But I didn’t hear her. The room was too quiet. The silence felt too loud. I couldn’t focus on anything else, not with the feeling of disappointment sinking in my chest like a brick.

This was my favorite game. It was mine. It was the one thing I could always count on. And now it was broken.

I shook my head. I didn’t know if it was for the game or for myself. But I was angry. I was so angry.

Uzi seemed to sense that, because she sat down next to me. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’ll figure it out.”

But I wasn’t sure about that. I really wasn’t.

And for a moment, I wanted to scream. But I didn’t.

I just sat there, staring at the broken GameCube. But I knew I couldn’t dwell on it for long. Reluctantly I stood and looked at Uzi, I didn’t know what my expression was, maybe something hopeful, maybe not. 

“Do you think we could look on eBay or something to see if one’s being sold?” I asked, and much to my surprise Uzi nodded in agreement. Then a devious smile spread across my face, I knew just what to say to piss her off. “Are you only helping me because you know I’m going to be your sister in law soon?”

Uzi’s face turned a deep shade of red and nearly made me keel over laughing as she began sputtering for a response.

Chapter Text

Uzi again, I bet you all missed me, I for sure as shit didn’t miss you—scratch that I kinda did, and at the moment, I’m bracing myself for war.

Not a literal war, obviously. No, I’m currently standing at the front steps of my Aunt Alice’s house, mentally preparing for an ambush by her army of cats. I swear, the woman collects them like infinity stones. No matter how many times I’ve visited, I always manage to get tripped by some new feline recruit with a vendetta against my ankles.

Nick stands beside me, hands shoved in his pockets, looking entirely too amused at my hesitation. “Y’know, for someone who fights goth girl battles on the daily, you seem weirdly afraid of some cats.”

I shoot him a look. “These aren’t normal cats, Nicholas. They’re trained assassins.”

He snorts, but before he can say anything else, the sound of raised voices from inside the house stops both of us. My amusement vanishes. Aunt Alice doesn’t usually get visitors, let alone ones she argues with.

I glance at Nick, who’s already giving me that look—the one that says you’re about to do something reckless, aren’t you?

He’d be right.

Because instead of knocking, I reach for the doorknob and push it open, stepping straight into whatever mess my aunt has found herself in.

I push the door open, and the first thing I notice is the silence. No cats. That’s either a really bad sign or a really bad sign. Alice’s place is usually a feline battlefield, but now it’s eerily quiet.

Nick steps in first, his eyes scanning the room. He’s still got that easy confidence about him, but there’s a tension in the air that even he can’t ignore. It’s like everything in the house has collectively held its breath.

And then it happens.

A deep, gruff voice breaks the silence. “Who the hell are you?”

I freeze, my stomach doing a little flip. The guy is massive—muscles stacked on muscles, his face shadowed by a baseball cap. He looks like the kind of guy who could bench press a car for fun. And I’m pretty sure I just interrupted something I wasn’t supposed to see.

Nick doesn’t flinch, though. Instead, he stares the guy down like he’s done this a hundred times before. “I’m here to see Alice,” he says, calm as ever.

Before the big guy can respond, Alice’s voice rings out from behind the kitchen counter. “Get out! Nick, get the hell out of here!”

Her tone is sharp, too sharp. She’s not playing around. I hear the clatter of something being knocked over, and suddenly, I’m worried. Worrying about Nick is kind of new to me, but I can’t help it. I know my aunt’s… eccentric, but I’ve never seen her act like this.

I step into the room fully, past the threshold, and that’s when Alice’s gaze snaps toward me. Her face goes completely pale, like she’s seen a ghost. The color drains from her cheeks so fast, I almost expect her to pass out.

“Aunt Alice?” I call out, my voice laced with concern.

Her wide eyes lock onto mine, and she stammers. “Uzi—what—what are you doing here?”

I raise an eyebrow, but before I can say anything else, the big guy behind Nick shoots me a look, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m a threat too.

“Who the hell are you?” he grumbles, his hand twitching like he might reach for something.

But that’s when Alice steps between me and the guy, her voice shaking. “You need to leave. Now.”

Her demeanor shifts from terrified to commanding in a heartbeat. Whatever was going on here, it was bad enough that even Alice—who usually doesn’t take shit from anyone—was this on edge. I didn’t know what was happening, but I sure as hell wasn’t leaving until I did.

“Alice…” I start, but she cuts me off.

“You need to go, Uzi. Now.” Her voice cracks a little.

Nick glances at me, then back at Alice, his brow furrowed. “What the hell’s going on here, Alice?” he asks, his tone now more serious.

“Just leave,” Alice repeats, more forcefully now. “Please.”

The tension in the room is thick, almost suffocating. It feels like everyone’s just waiting for something to snap, but I don’t think it’ll be my aunt. Before anything else can happen, the guy gives me a slow, appraising once-over. He glares at Alice, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’ll be back.”

He wasn’t just stating a fact; it felt like a promise. As he stomped out, I heard the cats scatter, clearly fleeing from the storm of his presence. The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the house. Alice, standing frozen in the middle of the room, looked like she might collapse. Her face had drained of all color.

“Alice, what the hell was that about?” I asked, my voice unsteady, the question leaving my lips shakier than I’d intended. Nick squeezed my hand, his presence grounding me. Alice flinched at my words, her amber eyes flickering between me, the floor, and Nick like she didn’t know whether to answer or avoid us altogether.

“I—I… I don’t think I should say anything…” Alice murmured, her usual southern drawl barely there, almost swallowed by her anxiety. That’s when I knew this wasn’t just some minor issue. It was serious.

I could feel the weight of her hesitation in the air, heavy and thick. Whatever she was about to tell us was going to be bad. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clasped them together, as if the mere thought of whatever was coming next was too much for her to bear.

“Why are they here, Alice? What do they want?” I pressed, my voice a little sharper now, not ready to let it go. The cats, who had been hiding in the corners, didn’t dare make a sound. The house felt too quiet, the silence swallowing everything else.

Alice took a deep breath, her eyes shifting away from mine, and I knew it was coming. Whatever past she had buried was coming up now, and the storm was about to hit us.

“It’s…some stuff from when me, your mother, and Aunt Yeva were dumbass teens…I—I…” Alice stuttered, her voice faltering as she struggled to get the words out.

“Spit it out!” I snapped, my patience fraying. The sharpness in my voice was harsher than I’d meant, and I instantly regretted it, but the anger and confusion were bubbling up inside of me too fast to contain. Nick’s hand tightened around mine, a quiet attempt to calm me, but I wasn’t sure it would work this time. Not with everything we’d just witnessed.

Alice’s face twisted with guilt, her lips pressed together as she hesitated. She clearly didn’t want to revisit whatever this was, but I needed to know. We both did.

“I—I’m sorry, Uzi,” she whispered, her voice barely audible now. “But you’ve gotta understand, it’s not.”

“I’m 18, dammit! I’m not some dumb kid—just say it!” My voice was barely contained, the words coming out sharper than I intended. I held her gaze, refusing to let up, but my chest tightened with every passing second. The air between us felt thick. I wasn’t going to back down.

I saw Alice flinch at the intensity in my tone, but she didn’t look away. The silence dragged on, and the tension was suffocating. Finally, Alice let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging as she resigned herself to whatever was coming.

“That man… he was part of a group your mother, aunt Yeva, and I ran with for a while,” she began, her words slow and deliberate, as if saying them out loud made it even more real. “I bailed early on cause I knew they were trouble… but in the end, it got both your mother and aunt killed.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and she shrank back, like the weight of her own words had suddenly collapsed on her. It was as if she regretted saying it aloud, but it was too late now. The truth was out there.

My heart dropped to my stomach as Alice’s words hit me, and I just stood there, frozen, squeezing Nick’s hand like it was a lifeline. Even though my grip must’ve been too much, he didn’t pull away or say anything. He just stood there, steadying me, silently supporting me in a way that made me feel both better and worse at the same time.

Then, suddenly, Onyx, my fur baby, brushed against my legs, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Onyx, you scared the shit out of me…” I whispered, exhaling the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I bent down and scooped him up into my arms. His soft black fur comforted me, and I looked into his mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold. It was almost like they were grounding me, offering a strange sort of peace amidst the chaos.

I stroked his fur absentmindedly, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in my gut.

Hours passed, and I still didn’t know what to make of what Alice had told me. The weight of her words had settled in my chest like a stone, and I hadn’t been able to shake it. I was still holding Onyx in my arms, absently running my fingers through his soft fur as Nick and I sat on one of the many couches in Alice’s living room—each one smothered in a fresh layer of cat fur, of course.

The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of Onyx purring and the occasional creak of the house settling. I kept replaying Alice’s confession in my mind, but no matter how many times I ran it over, I just couldn’t make sense of it.

Finally, the front door burst open with a suddenness that made Onyx leap out of my arms, and in stepped my eldest cousin, Beau.

His dad had left when he was young, but I’m gonna be honest—Beau was one of the most stand-up guys I knew. Dude was a natural comedian, literally. He had this shaggy blonde hair that seemed to always fall just right, the same amber eyes as his mom, and a smile that could charm anyone into handing over their wallet without a second thought.

“Where’s ma?” Beau asked, his voice carrying that familiar southern drawl I’d grown up hearing. Oh, yeah—I forgot to mention that he had his mother’s accent. Honestly, it worked in his favor for his comedy shows; that laid-back drawl of his made everything sound funnier.

I jerked a thumb toward the kitchen, where Alice was having a mini panic attack, clutching her coffee mug like it was the hand of God or something. The sight of her like that made something twist in my gut, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. Before Beau could rush off to check on his mother, Alice’s voice came from the kitchen. It was shaky, but there was an attempt to hold it together.

“Gimme a bit, Beau. I’ll talk to you in a while,” she called, her words wavering like she was trying to hold her breath and her composure at the same time.

Beau hesitated, then dropped down onto the recliner opposite me, his gaze meeting mine with those same hazy amber eyes I had grown up seeing on Alice. His smile was small, reassuring even, but it didn’t do much to ease the knot in my stomach.

“So… what did I miss?” Beau asked, his voice light, but there was an edge to it—like he already knew the answer wouldn’t be good. His expression betrayed just a hint of concern, and that small, easygoing smile of his only made my stomach twist tighter. It wasn’t comforting; it just made me feel worse, like I was supposed to play along, act normal, when nothing about this was anywhere close to normal.

Nick shifted beside me, shooting me a glance—his silent way of asking for permission to tell my cousin what had just gone down. I exhaled sharply through my nose, running a hand through my hair as I stood up.

“Go ahead,” I muttered. “I need to find Onyx.”

I wasn’t even sure why I said it, but the thought of sitting there, listening to someone else repeat the conversation I was still struggling to process, made my skin crawl. Every word would just hammer it in further, make it more real. And I wasn’t ready for that.

Onyx had vanished somewhere into the house, and at that moment, I was more than happy to go looking for him—anything to delay facing whatever was coming next.

Unfortunately, I found him in the one place he shouldn’t be: my aunt’s bedroom.

Alice had a strict rule about keeping her army of cats out of there. Not because she didn’t love them—hell, she loved them more than most people—but because twenty-something cats shedding all over her bed and knocking over whatever fragile trinkets she hoarded? Yeah, not ideal.

Yet, there was Onyx, perched on her dresser like he owned the place, his tail flicking lazily as he stared at me with those mismatched eyes. The way he was just sitting there, completely unfazed, while my entire world felt like it was tilting on its axis… it almost pissed me off.

“Really, dude?” I muttered, stepping inside to scoop him up. “Out of all the places in this house, this is where you decide to go?”

He meowed in response, like he had a damn good reason.

I sighed, pressing my forehead lightly against his fur for a second before straightening up. Maybe I could stay in here for a little while, just a few more minutes of pretending everything was fine before I had to go back out there and deal with reality.

Chapter Text

Hey, Natasha Romanov here… who the fuck am I kidding?! Forget I even said that. I don’t do aliases well—fuck, I barely even remember why I started using one in the first place. Anyway, cut the bullshit. My name’s Nori Elena Doorman. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m supposed to be fucking dead, right? The whole “Nori Doorman doesn’t exist anymore” story was supposed to stick, but here I am, alive and kicking like a goddamn ghost that refuses to stay buried. You’re probably wondering how that happened, but trust me, I’ve got my reasons—reasons I’d rather not get into right now. But what can I say? Life’s a hell of a ride when you’ve got no fucking choice but to keep going.

I know, I know, I’m gonna get fucking pestered if I don’t at least give some explanation, so here it is, you nosy bastard. Buckle up. Me and my sisters—Yeva and Alice—we got ourselves knee-deep in some gang shit when we were in high school. Thought we were invincible, young and dumb as hell. Surprise, surprise, that shit came back and bit me right in the ass. Long story short: I was forced to fake my death to get the hell outta there. Yeva didn’t make it. She was the one who always pushed the boundaries too far. Alice, well, she got scarred too—but mentally, not physically, thank fuck. As for my daughter? Yeah, I left her with a permanent case of mommy issues. Just fucking fantastic, right?

Let’s just say the reason I faked my death was because of an old “friend.” And I use the term “friend” very loosely. Her name’s Absey—short for some bullshit I don’t give a fuck to remember. She’s the one who dragged me back into this mess of a life, and believe me when I say I hate her for it. And don’t even get me started on that hunky piece of muscle she calls a bodyguard. Kyle, I think his name is? Fuck that guy, too. Just to make it clear: Fuck you, I’m pansexual, not that it’s any of your business, but I sure as hell don’t need any of her shit shoved down my throat.

Oh, and just in case you were thinking about crossing me—another reason you shouldn’t fuck with me? I’ve got a piece. And for the idiots who don’t speak gang, yeah, I’m talking about a Glock. You think I’m kidding? Think again. I don’t need to flash it around, but believe me, it’s always within reach. You can fuck with a lot of things, but my patience and my safety aren’t on that list.

Anyway, enough rambling about my shitshow of a life. Let’s get to the point—today I’m stuck with the worst job of all: tagging along with Absey and her muscle-headed, shit-for-brains bodyguard to some drug deal or gun exchange or whatever the hell it is they’re doing. Honestly? I couldn’t give two shits. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve got to keep my head down and not make waves, I’d be somewhere else right now, probably getting a drink to forget that this is my life. But nope, here I am, dragged into another goddamn mess. 

Honestly, if I ever get the chance to see Uzi again, she’ll probably hate my guts. Hell, I’m sure she won’t even let me get a single fucking word out before she storms off, pissed at the world like I deserve. And who the hell could blame her? I’ve been MIA for, what, 15 fucking years? That’s a lifetime, and I’ve got a lot of shit to answer for.

Ugh, rambling again. Fuck, it’s like I can’t stop myself. Let’s just get this shit-wagon on the road before I end up talking myself into something even darker. The longer I sit here stewing in my thoughts, the worse it gets. Just gotta keep moving, keep going. Can’t afford to slow down now.

I made my way out of the shit-hole of an apartment Absey gave me, Glock tucked into my coat (and before you gun nerds start spouting off in the comments, yes, I’m using God’s caliber, 45 ACP. Fuck you, and your fancy little 9mm.). A couple extra mags in my pocket for good measure—I’m not going into some shady exchange under-armed, not today.

The hallway of the building reeked of piss and stale weed, but I didn’t give a shit. I’d been in worse places, hell, I’ve lived in worse places. As I walked past the cracked doors and faded wallpaper, I could feel the weight of the gun against my side. Not just the gun, though. The weight of everything that came with it—the people I’d crossed, the promises I’d broken.

I didn’t even know why I was still alive, honestly. After everything, I should’ve been dead years ago. But here I was, making my way to whatever the hell Absey had planned today. I had no choice but to play along, to keep my head down and pretend I gave a shit about any of it. But I didn’t. Not even a little bit.

Outside, the air hit me like a slap to the face—cold, biting, and it smelled like the city’s usual bullshit. I lit a cigarette and took a drag, the smoke curling in front of me like some kind of shitty little ghost.

"Let’s just get this over with," I muttered to myself.

I didn’t know what the day would bring. I just knew it’d be bad. It always was.

Chapter Text

Hello, I am Doll Nadya Petrov, and I’m currently losing my damn mind.

Now, you may be wondering, "Doll, why are you losing your mind?"

Well, let me tell you.

Lizzy. Just. Got. Evicted.

Okay, not technically evicted. It’s not like some landlord came in and threw all her stuff onto the street. But she might as well have been. Because as of twenty minutes ago, Lizzy’s home is no longer her home, her brother is officially the worst person on the planet (not that this is new information), and I—her incredibly loyal, incredibly pissed-off girlfriend—am now left trying to figure out what the hell we do next.

So yeah. Losing my mind.

Когда Тэд мне в руки попадётся, клянусь Богом!

Excuse my bilingual outburst—I grew up speaking Russian, so English is technically my second language. And sometimes, only Russian truly captures the depth of my rage.

Right now, that rage is being channeled directly into pounding on Thad’s door. He’s going to get a piece of my mind, whether he likes it or not.

Finally, the door swings open, and—just as I expected—that blonde bastard stands there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. SWEATPANTS.

“Hey—Doll? I didn’t expect—”

“Таддеус, я убью тебя за то, что ты выгнал её!” I cut him off mid-sentence, my voice rising in pitch and volume as I jab a finger into his chest. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me, like a wildfire threatening to consume anything in its path. All my frustration, all my anger over what he did to Lizzy— this is where it boils over.

Thad’s eyes widen for a second, but he doesn't back off. Instead, he looks at me like I’m the crazy one. The nerve of him.

I take a step forward, not giving him an inch to breathe. “Do you have any idea what you just did, Thad? You’ve ruined her life. Again.”

“Look! I can’t support both of us, plus I wasn’t the one who got her fired from that shitty diner! She did that all on her own!”

Thad's excuse comes out like nails on a chalkboard, as pleasant as the rancid odor wafting off his sweatpants. Honestly, I might rather inhale the fumes than listen to him try to justify this mess.

“And stop yelling, for God’s sake!” he adds, like that’ll make me calm down.

“ Дайте мне вескую причину молчать! ” 

Thad glares at me, face twisted in annoyance. “I. Do. Not. Speak. Russian!”

“Well, maybe you should’ve learned, because it’s the only thing that’s stopping me from hitting you right on your ass right now,” I snap back, the frustration pouring out like a dam bursting, flooding everything in its path.

Thad, the spineless jerk, rolls his eyes and— slams the door in my face .

In. My. Face.

I stand there for a second, stunned, my hand still hovering in the air like I’m about to knock again. I could feel my blood boil, and part of me wanted to just break the door down. But I didn’t. I’m patient... and I’m petty as hell.

I take a step back, fists clenched at my sides.

“Be an ass of a human being, then!” I shout, voice shaking with barely contained rage as I take a few more steps back, glaring at the door like I could burn a hole through it. “See what Lizzy does when you come crawling back to her— because you will , and you’ll be homeless. Then you’ll really find out what it’s like to get shut out.”

Before I could hurl more insults in my native tongue, I hear the unmistakable backfire of a car engine, and I turn just in time to see Khan—my uncle, Uzi’s father—pull into the driveway.

He slams the car into park and steps out with that unmistakable parent stare that always seems to make my stomach drop. It’s the kind of look that makes you feel like you're in trouble before you've even done anything wrong.

“Doll, what the hell are you doing?” he demands, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes like he’s been awake for days.

But because I don’t feel like answering, I just start muttering to myself in Russian, real slow, so it’s loud enough for him to hear.

Guess what? He can’t speak a word of it.

“Doll…” Khan muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose like I was giving him the kind of headache he couldn’t shake. With his other hand, he gestured to his car, the motion stiff and frustrated.

“Just. Get. In. The. Car,” he said, each word slow and deliberate, as if trying to reign in his patience. He let out a long, drawn-out yawn, clearly not getting enough sleep. The kind of sleep I knew he wasn’t getting, thanks to the endless hours he spent working that contracting job—one I knew absolutely nothing about, except that it drained him dry. And it wasn’t just the job. His “depressed dad” routine was wearing him down, and I could see it in his face, even if he tried to hide it.

So, reluctantly, I climbed into the car and slumped into the seat, my eyes fixed on Thad’s house as I glared daggers at it.

Khan didn’t say a word as he slid into the driver’s seat, pulling out of the driveway with that calm, almost detached precision he always had when he was running on fumes. The silence between us was thick, heavy, like the kind of silence that makes you feel like you're being weighed down by a thousand unspoken things. Honestly, Khan’s silence is kind of intimidating . But I’d never say that out loud.

I knew I had to ask him. I needed his help— now more than ever. Lizzy needed me, and I had no idea where to start.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I turned my gaze away from the dashboard and looked out the window, the words heavy in my chest.

“Uncle…” I said softly, almost hesitantly. “Can you drive me around town? I need to find Lizzy. She got kicked out and is… homeless .”

Khan nodded silently and turned into town before he could second guess it. We searched for half an hour, the minutes dragging by in a thick haze of worry. And then I saw her.

Lizzy. Sitting on the side of the road like she belonged to nothing and no one. She looked so thin. Frail, even. It was like she’d shrunk down into herself, the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders. And it killed me inside to see my blonde красота sitting there, looking so defeated. I could feel the ache in my chest, a sharp, sickening knot, as if someone had reached inside me and twisted my insides just to remind me how much I cared.

Without thinking, I waved to Khan to pull over. I couldn’t let her sit there any longer. I couldn’t let her feel alone in this.

I stormed right up to her, my boots pounding the pavement like they were on a mission. Lizzy’s eyes widened, shock overtaking her features as I reached her.

I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up from the curb before she could even blink. Then I wrapped her in a hug, holding her so tight I was afraid I might break her. She was too fragile right now. Too lost. Too far gone.

Her arms hesitated around me for a second, but then she melted into the embrace. I could feel the tremble in her body, the way she was trying to hold it all together but failing miserably.

This blonde bimbo can claim she’s fine all she wants, but I know what desperation looks like. And Lizzy, right now? She fit the bill. The exhaustion in her eyes was unmistakable. She didn’t need to say anything—her silence spoke volumes louder than any words could.

"I’m not leaving you here, okay?" I whispered against her hair, my voice soft, but the promise in it was firm. "Let’s get you out of here."

I felt her nod against my chest, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. I could feel her clinging to me, desperate for something, anything that would offer comfort. And for once, I wasn’t about to let her go through this alone.

Khan drove us back to his place in tense silence, the weight of what we just saw hanging between us. Lizzy didn’t speak. She just sat there, curled into herself, too weak to even meet my eyes. I knew better than to ask her to talk. For now, she just needed to feel safe.

When we pulled into the driveway, I didn’t waste any time. Lizzy could barely stand, so I scooped her up into my arms with a surprising tenderness, not wanting to put any more strain on her frail body. The anger and frustration were still simmering inside me, but they didn’t matter right now. She needed me, and that was the only thing I cared about.

I carried her inside, moving quickly but carefully, my mind already running through a hundred different scenarios where I could beat the world back for making her feel this way. But for now, the only thing that mattered was getting Lizzy to the couch, settling her there with as much gentle reverence as I could muster.

Once she was safely tucked under a blanket, I turned on my heel and stormed off to the kitchen. I wasn’t about to let her be hungry on top of everything else.

A minute later, I was back in the living room with the first thing I could grab. A poptart and a thawed Uncrustable that Uzi had left behind—probably lunch she forgot to take with her when she went to Aunt Alice’s place.

"Eat this," I said, my voice softer now but no less demanding. "You need something. I don’t care if it’s just a snack. Eat."

I handed her the food with a firm but caring hand, watching closely as she took it from me, her eyes barely meeting mine. It was a small step, but it was enough for now.

Chapter Text

Hey… Uzi again.

I, uh… how the fuck do I even begin to explain the last few hours of my life? I guess I’ll try. Or something.

Okay, so—Nick and I went to Aunt Alice’s place, and things got real weird, real fast. There was this big dude—like, the kind of guy who looks like he could snap someone in half without breaking a sweat. And that was just the beginning .

Then we found out—get this—Alice, Yeva, and my mom were all wrapped up in some kind of gang-type shit. Yeah. Just casually dropped on us like that’s a normal thing to hear about your family.

And it gets worse.

Because unlike Alice, who bailed before things got ugly, my mom and Yeva didn’t . And it got them killed .

Yeah. Let that sink in.

My mom and Yeva are dead because they didn’t walk away when they had the chance.

And now I don’t know whether I should be angry or just completely numb .

As I walked along, Nick stayed beside me, silent. He’d barely said a word since my cousin, Beau, had to carry his mom—Alice—off to bed after she completely dissolved into a panic attack.

And I just stood there and watched it happen.

I should have done something. Helped her, comforted her, anything . But instead, I froze like a complete idiot. Looking back on it now? God, what a shitty move.

And of course, my brain won’t let it go.

It just keeps replaying, over and over, looping like a bad song I can’t turn off. You should’ve stayed to help your aunt. You should’ve pressed for more answers. You should’ve done more.

Shut the fuck up, thoughts! I need some coffee.

Nick must’ve noticed my spiraling, because he finally broke the silence.

“You good, Zi?”

…Wait. Did he just try to give me a pet nickname?

I turned my head slightly, eyeing him from the corner of my vision. “What did you just call me?”

He smirked— smirked —and leaned in closer like he was about to whisper some big secret.

“Zi. That’s what I called you, baby.”

This smooth-talking dumbass —

"Be glad I don’t hit you in the dick," I shot back, crossing my arms even as— damn it —a giggle escaped my lips.

Nick, the menace that he is, caught onto it instantly.

"Oh, come on, Zi. You know you like it," he said, that same smug-ass grin plastered across his face, the one that made my stomach do stupid little flips I refused to acknowledge.

And worst of all? He was right .

I did like it.

Before I could properly gather my thoughts and fire back with something that didn’t make me sound like a flustered idiot, a car pulled up beside us. The passenger window rolled down, and—of course—it was Cyn .

She stuck her head out, that ever-present scar across the left side of her face twitching slightly as she grinned like a kid about to spill the most ungodly amount of tea.

"So…" she drawled, eyes darting between me and Nick with way too much amusement. " You two sleep together yet? "

Nick immediately doubled over, like the sheer force of those words had physically taken him out . Meanwhile, my face went beet fucking red . I think I actually forgot how to breathe for a second.

Before I could even begin to process a response, a voice shouted from the driver’s seat.

"Cynthia Scarlet Elliot, where did you learn that !?"

I snapped my head toward the voice—Jess.

Cyn’s grin froze, her eyes going comically wide.

And just like that, she had fully outed herself for having a very non-school-approved sex ed class.

“…Internet?” Cyn answered, dragging out the word as she slowly turned to face Jess like this was some kind of damn Looney Tunes episode.

I swear, the sigh Jess let out was so heavy I thought she might just cough up a lung .

“Cyn…” she started, voice dangerously close to a mom-tone . “First, I find out your teacher is a—” She cut herself off, shaking her head like she physically could not finish that sentence without losing her mind. “And now I learn you’ve learned… that from the internet ?”

I wasn’t even in the car, and I could feel the sheer exhaustion radiating off of her.

Cyn, completely unfazed, just grinned like a little gremlin.

And honestly? I think that made it so much worse for Jess.

Then, my brain finally registered the car Jess was driving.

It wasn’t much better than the glorified rust bucket I drove, but damn , it was nice. Sleek enough to look semi-respectable, but still holding onto that beat-to-shit charm that screamed, I’ve been through some things.

What was it? Hell if I knew. I’m not a car person, so don’t ask.

But that raised a bigger question—Jess was the CEO of JCJenson Electronics. So why the hell was she driving a damn junker?

Before I could even consider asking, Jess cut through the chaos with a voice so heavy with exhaustion it could sink a ship.

“Nickolas Benjamin Elliot, get in the car… we’re going home. I’ll drop your girlfriend off at her place.”

Her tone had officially entered I’m so done with life territory.

Nick, still recovering from Cyn’s ambush , straightened up with a noise somewhere between a squeak and a cough. “She’s not my—”

“She is now, get in.”

Cyn, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. “Ohhh, Zi , you hear that? Girlfriend status—”

“Shut up , Cyn,” I groaned, my face still burning.

Jess, not having the patience for any of this, pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something about needing stronger coffee.

But as Nick hesitated by the open car door, he turned back to me, eyes flicking over my face like he was reading something I hadn’t even said yet.

“…Want me to walk you home instead?”

That should’ve been the easy option. But for some reason, the moment he asked, I hesitated.

“I… uh…”

Before I could finish stuttering like an idiot, Jess’s voice sliced through the moment like a goddamn machete.

“Nickolas, get your ass in the car. Now. And Uzi? That means you too.”

Jesus Christ , this woman was terrifying when she got angry.

Nick must’ve thought the same, because he barely hesitated before motioning for me to hop into the back first. Of course he was doing the whole ladies first thing, and honestly… I liked it.

Goddammit, stop liking things, Uzi.

Meanwhile, Cyn had already claimed her spot in the front seat and was absolutely losing her mind laughing.

“So…” she said, drawing out the word like the little menace she was. “How long till the wedding ?”

I froze.

Nick choked.

Jess groaned.

And for the first time in my entire life , I had the violent urge to strangle a child .

I mean, I wasn’t going to , obviously. But holy shit , did she have the most punchable face right now.

And to all of you about to go ‘I thought you guys were official!’ —we are ! Just… not publicly yet. So Cyn deciding to broadcast it like we were signing marriage papers tomorrow? Not helping.

“Hello?” Cyn leaned over the center console, staring back at Nick and me with a grin that made my blood pressure spike. “Can I get an answer?”

Jesus, she was so lucky I had some level of self-restraint.

Also, maybe I should stop thinking like The Man Behind the Slaughter . And maybe— just maybe —I should cut back on the indie horror game references before my brain permanently wires itself into serial killer mode.

But as I schooled myself into not committing another 1985 incident, Cyn glanced back at Nick and me. Her usual mischief was gone, replaced by something resembling actual concern. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something—then hesitated. Instead of speaking right away, she shifted in her seat, turning completely around so she could peek over the headrest, watching us more closely.

“You two okay?” she finally asked.

I didn’t respond. I even glanced at Nick, hoping he’d pick up on the do not engage memo. He did not.

“Something happened at her aunt’s place—”

Before he could get another word out, I drove my elbow into his side, earning a surprised grunt.

Cyn’s brows shot up, and a smirk almost started creeping back onto her face. “Okay, damn, I see how it is,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Secrets, violence—real healthy relationship dynamic you guys got going on.”

Jess, who had been unnervingly quiet up until now, finally sighed from the driver’s seat. “Cyn, face forward before I personally eject you from this car.”

Cyn gave an exaggerated pout but slowly turned back around, still clearly curious. Nick rubbed his ribs with a dramatic wince, shooting me a was that really necessary? look. It was.

I kept my eyes on the passing streetlights, my fingers fidgeting against my thigh. My brain still felt like a glitching computer, replaying the last few hours on an endless loop. Alice’s panic attack. The big guy. The truth about my mom. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

Nick must have noticed, because his voice lowered when he spoke again, just for me. “You sure you’re okay?”

I wasn’t. Not even close.

But I nodded anyway.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

Nick saw right through me—damn him—and before I could so much as shift away, he pulled me into a side hug. Like usual, his stupidly comforting presence made it impossible to pull back. His warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was grounding in a way I hated to admit I needed.

He was about to say something else, probably another are you sure you’re okay? when Jess spoke up again, her voice cutting through the quiet tension in the car.

“Should I just drop you both at Khan’s place?”

Her tone was surprisingly gentle. Which, considering this was Jess, meant things had officially gotten too serious for comfort. I nodded quickly, grateful that she wasn’t pressing too hard—and even more grateful that Nick could stay for a bit.

But Jess’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, and something about her expression made my stomach knot.

She wasn’t just dropping us off.

She was going to ask questions. Maybe not now, but soon.

And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

Eventually, we pulled up to my dad’s place… Wait a fucking minute.

She’s pulling into the driveway.

Oh shit.

She’s going to talk to my dad.

Why, of all nights, did she have to do this now!?

“Uh… why are we pulling in? I thought you were just dropping the lovebirds off,” Cyn piped up. For once, her usual teasing edge was missing, replaced with genuine curiosity.

Jess just sighed, put the car in park, and stepped out without another word.

She glanced back at Nick and me, silently asking if we planned to stay in the car. As if. There was no way I was sitting this one out. Nick must’ve felt the same because he was already unbuckling his seatbelt. Cyn followed suit, skipping ahead like this was just another totally normal night.

We made our way up the stairs and into my dad’s house—only to find something completely unexpected.

Lizzy.

The same blonde bimbo I had driven home after she got fired.

Sitting on the couch.

Scratch that.

Sitting on Doll’s lap.

I blinked. Nick blinked. Cyn blinked.

“Did we, uh, interrupt something?” Jess asked, her tone unreadable as she glanced at my cousin and her very comfortable girlfriend.

Doll didn’t so much as flinch. Lizzy, on the other hand, went stiff as a board.

Jess barely gave them time to answer before continuing into the kitchen, where I immediately heard my dad’s voice perk up—like he and Jess had been old drinking buddies since college.

Oh yeah. This was gonna be a night.

I let out the heaviest sigh imaginable and flopped onto the couch next to my cousin and Lizzy, limbs sprawled like my soul had physically left my body. Meanwhile, Nick and Cyn plopped down onto the floor in front of us, both wisely choosing the low ground in this situation.

Don’t worry, guys, this is just as awkward for you as it is for me.

From the kitchen, I could hear my dad and Jess talking, but their voices were too muffled to make anything out. Probably for the best—I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what they were discussing.

Then, as if the universe had personally chosen me to suffer, Doll opened her mouth.

“So… how’re you and your boyfriend?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Instantly, my face went red. Cyn’s grin came back in full force, like she had been waiting for another opportunity to pounce. Nick groaned and buried his face in his hands, already knowing what was coming. And Lizzy? She just blinked at me like I had suddenly started speaking fluent Japanese.

“…Boyfriend?” she echoed, turning to Doll with an expression that screamed excuse me, what?

Doll, completely unbothered, just smirked. “Yeah, boyfriend. You didn’t hear? These two lovebirds have been making eyes at each other for months.”

Nick let out a noise that could only be described as internal suffering. I resisted the urge to sink into the couch and never return.

Cyn, on the other hand, was practically vibrating. “Ooooh, should we start planning the wedding now or—?”

I threw my head back against the cushions and groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Doll just cackled. Cyn high-fived Lizzy, despite the fact that Lizzy was still very much confused. And Nick? Nick reached over, blindly grabbed my hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

…Damn him.

“Okay, okay, can we tone down the harassment so I can get some actual answers?” Lizzy cut in, shifting slightly on Doll’s lap, though her expression still resembled that of a perpetually confused fish.

…Wait, does that comparison even work?

“Oh, come on! It’s fun,” Cyn whined, crossing her arms like a kid who just got told recess was canceled.

Before I could shut that down, Jess emerged from the kitchen—and she had the Mom Look™ locked and loaded.

Yeah, nope.

I’d rather take my chances swimming in Subnautica’s open ocean.

I immediately straightened up like a student caught texting in class. Nick, to his credit, had the exact same reaction. Even Cyn—who had the survival instincts of a drunk lemming—froze mid-smirk.

Jess scanned the room, clearly unimpressed with whatever the hell this was, before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“…Do I even want to know?” Jess asked, her tone already laced with exhaustion.

Before any of us could answer, my dad appeared in the doorway behind her, arms crossed, looking about as done with life as she did.

“I think it’s just Doll teasing Uzi,” he said, shooting a glance at my cousin—who, of course, was grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat. “Like usual.”

I groaned, sinking so deep into the couch I was one step away from becoming part of the furniture. Meanwhile, Nick—ever the genius—attempted to hide by yanking his jacket up and over his head like some kind of makeshift invisibility cloak.

Spoiler alert: It did not work.

But… okay. It was also kind of cute.

—No. No, stop that. Do not give in. You are not a simp, Uzi. Hold the line.

Doll, still wearing that insufferable grin, waggled her eyebrows at me like she knew. Knew I was struggling. Knew that Nick had just unknowingly made my brain short-circuit for half a second.

I clenched my fists. Stay strong, Uzi. Stay strong.

Jess exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face like this entire situation had physically aged her. “Great. You’re all children,” she muttered.

Cyn, ever the menace, gasped. “Jess, how dare you? I am a distinguished young lady—”

Jess shot her a look so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel.

Cyn immediately shut up.

Smart move.

Once Jess retreated back into the kitchen, followed by my dad, I decided to spice things up.

“Cyn,” I said, and she immediately turned her head toward me, her usual playful smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. “You’re a regular Bill Cipher ripoff.”

She stared at me with that confused kid look—classic Cyn. Honestly, it was like she was the embodiment of “what in the actual hell are you talking about?”

I sighed dramatically and decided to turn my pop culture references on everyone in the room like it was my god-given right. Time to make everyone feel the burn.

“Wow, Nick,” I said with a lazy grin, looking over at him, “you’re giving off some real Gordon Freeman vibes right now.” He hadn’t said a word since we got here, just like Gordon would do in every game: quiet, mysterious, and totally avoiding drama.

Nick blinked and shot me a side-eye, probably confused, but I wasn’t stopping. “Seriously though, you’re like every silent protagonist ever,” I continued. “I half expect you to suddenly get into a wild chase scene and start headshotting stuff. You’re definitely about to crash through a window any second now.”

Cyn snorted, shaking her head. “You’re weird,” she muttered under her breath.

I ignored her and leaned back against the couch, turning my attention to my dad’s house. I could practically hear the crickets chirping as Jess and Dad continued their conversation in the kitchen. It was like I was the only one trying to bring a little chaos into this otherwise mundane situation.

I shifted to Lizzy, who was still sitting on Doll’s lap, looking a little too calm for someone who was just kicked out of their place. “And Lizzy,” I said, grinning, “you’ve got that Subnautica vibe. Like, if I dive too deep into this conversation, am I going to encounter a Reaper Leviathan or something?” Lizzy blinked at me, her face still the picture of confusion.

“Is that a compliment?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” I shrugged. “It’s a whole underwater terror metaphor, you’re totally giving off that sinking-into-the-abyss energy right now.”

Cyn, for once, wasn’t having it. “Shut up, Uzi. I don’t get any of these references.”

“Of course you don’t,” I said with a smirk, “you’re probably more of a Fortnite kid. No offense, though.”

Cyn shot me a mock glare, but I could see the tiny twitch of her lips trying to fight back a smile. Victory.

“Anyway, don’t worry about it,” I added, glancing back at Nick. “At least I’m not making you into some kind of Fallout character. Seriously, though, we should definitely go for a ’90s kid vibe next. Like, I’m one bad day away from shouting ’It’s Morphin’ Time!’ or ‘YOOOOO, is this the real life or is this just fantasy?’ at this rate.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, which was just perfect—he was the real-life version of those silent protagonists, the ones who only ever nod and awkwardly walk around.

I paused for a second, glancing at Cyn, who was still looking at me like I was a freakin’ alien.

“Alright, Cyn. Fine. You get to be the Mikasa to my Eren,” I added dramatically. “Totally pissed-off energy, but somehow the only one who can save me when I’m deep in Tokyo Ghoul levels of emotional confusion.”

She stared at me for a beat, then muttered, “What the hell, Uzi? Just… stop.”

This was why I loved being the pop culture reference machine in this little dysfunctional group. They never saw it coming, and it was always way too fun to dial down.

Chapter Text

Well, this is just downright embarrassing. Howdy, y’all. Name’s Alison Eliza Doorman, and right now I’m sittin’ here cryin’ like a damn mess while my son holds me like I’m some kinda baby. Don’t worry, there’s context for all this. Believe me, I never thought I’d end up like this, but life’s funny like that, ain’t it?

Beau, the sweet angel that he is, gently set me down on my bed before crouching in front of me to meet my gaze. His amber eyes, always filled with concern, softened as he spoke. “You alright, ma?”

God bless him. He’s the best son a mama could ask for.

I took a shaky breath, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I tried to regain some composure. “I… I reckon I’m alright, Beau,” I said, voice thick with emotion, though it barely felt true. It was hard to lie to him, especially when he looked at me like that.

He gave me that soft, understanding smile, the one that always made my heart swell with pride. “You don’t gotta put on a brave face for me, ma,” he said, his hand resting on my knee in that reassuring way he does. “It’s okay to feel, y’know?”

I sniffled, looking down at my hands. “I just… I ain’t used to lettin’ it out like this. But I can’t keep it all locked up forever, can I?”

Beau shook his head, and I swear I saw a hint of a tear in his eye too. “No ma, you can’t.” He gave my knee a little squeeze, before standing up. “You ever need to talk, you know where I am.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was more of a wet sob than anything else. “Always the wise one,” I muttered. “You’re somethin’ else, Beau.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased with a small grin, ruffling my hair. “You’ll be okay. Just take it slow.”

I leaned back against the pillows, feeling exhausted, but strangely lighter for having let it out. “Thanks, son,” I whispered, pulling the covers up to my chin.

But anyway, I guess I should give y’all the context you’re probably all wonderin’ about. My sisters and I—well, we weren’t exactly the most… well-behaved, let’s just say. We did some stupid stuff when we were younger. Stuff that, lookin’ back now, I wish we’d never gotten involved in. Like that one time Nori convinced us to go roof-jumping. I swear, she had us all hyped up like we were invincible or somethin’. She went first, as usual, and then crack—her arm snapped like a dry twig when she landed. You’d think that’d be enough to get her to stop, right? But no, not Nori. She just sat up, laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, and brushed it off like it was nothin’.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part was how Nori got us all wrapped up in some pretty bad stuff after that. Gang stuff, real dangerous kinds of people. I’m sure Yeva was just lookin’ for some excitement, but me? I should’ve seen it comin’ and bailed a lot sooner than I did. But Yeva… and Nori, well, they were too far gone by then. Me? I had enough sense to step out before things went too far. But my sisters? They stayed in it, and things just got messier.

I always hated that I couldn’t save ‘em from it, but I just couldn’t keep up. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough. And hell, maybe that’s why I ended up here—sitting in my room, crying like I’ve lost ‘em all over again. I can’t undo what happened. But I sure as hell wish I could.

And as if to add insult to injury, my damn army of cats came flooding into my room. Normally, I don’t let ‘em in here, but honestly? I needed ’em more than ever right now. Marmalade, the fluffy orange menace, curled up on my lap like he was the king of the world, and Tuna, that scrappy little thing, plopped herself down on my arm, along with her litter of scraggly kittens. They were all purring, providing some comfort in this damn mess of a night. Then, as if on cue, Onyx—Uzi’s cat, the one who usually can’t stand my guts—came slinking in and decided to curl up next to my head. Of course, he was all grumpy about it, but he stayed close, and I swear that cat’s soft fur against my skin was a little bit of peace I didn’t know I needed.

“Thanks, guys,” I whispered to them, the weight of it all sinking deeper into my chest, but at least I had them here now.

Just then, Beau entered, quiet as a mouse, holding a glass of water in one hand. God bless this child—he had the kind of heart that could turn the hardest days into something bearable. He set the glass down gently on the nightstand, then pulled out a bag of my favorite snack. Saltine crackers. But not just any crackers—the good ones, the kind you can only get from the salad bar at Eatin’Park. The ones that had that perfect crunch to ’em. It was like he knew exactly what I needed without me saying a word.

He didn’t speak at first, just sat down beside me, giving me a soft, understanding look. Like he knew I didn’t need him to say anything, just be there.

“Thanks, baby,” I whispered again, my voice a little hoarse. He smiled, that sweet, sincere smile of his, and squeezed my hand. I swear, if there’s one thing in this world that could make everything feel right, it was him.

I don’t know what time I finally passed out, but by the time I realized I’d dozed off, it was morning. And that’s when I was hit with the reality of why I don’t let cats in my room. Fur. Everywhere. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my cats—God knows I do—but the fur, y’all. Come on, guys! Can’t a woman have an emotional breakdown without bein’ smothered in fluff? At least I could barely move, buried under a sea of orange, black, and gray fur. Marmalade was curled up by my feet like he was ruling the bed, Tuna and her ragtag crew were sprawled out beside me, and even Onyx—who normally avoids me like the plague—was somehow half draped across my pillow, purring like a little angel.

I groaned, trying to wriggle my way out from under them. Not that I wanted to disturb ’em, but seriously, the fur was starting to become its own beast.

Beau had already gone off to do his thing. His comedy gig had him up early, as usual. It was always something he loved, and damn if he wasn’t good at it. He had a way of making people laugh, real laughter that made you forget your troubles for just a moment. I always liked hearing about the shows he’d done, the crowds he’d cracked up. Maybe I’d go see him perform later today, see what he was working on these days.

But seriously, I’d say it again—best son ever. He might’ve been out there making people laugh, but here? Here, he was my rock.

That’s when it hit me. It was Monday. Shit. I froze, panic rising in my chest as I grabbed my phone with shaky hands. I had to call Principal Lynn. The woman was a whole different beast—a pit bull in a professional’s disguise—and I really didn’t want to deal with her wrath right now. But as soon as the phone picked up, I didn’t even get a word in before she cut me off.

“Ms. Alison, your son informed me that you needed the day off. I hope you feel better. In the meantime, I’ll have your classes covered.”

“M-Miss Lynn… I-I…” I stammered, but before I could finish, she cut me off again. That woman never gave you a chance to argue.

“Rest, Alison. I mean it.” Her voice was firm, the kind of firm that left no room for discussion.

I was stunned into silence for a moment, staring at the phone like it might bite me. She wasn’t even giving me a chance to say I was fine, or that I could come in for half a day. No, she was making the call for me.

I mean, part of me wanted to argue. But the other part? The part that was still emotionally exhausted and buried under a pile of cat fur? I couldn’t even bring myself to try. So, I just sighed and hung up, knowing I’d be spending the day in bed, whether I liked it or not.

Chapter Text

Uzi again, and I’m sitting here in the bathroom at school, trying to get a grip. I just swallowed a handful of Xanax, and now my mind feels like it’s swirling in slow motion. I know I promised Aunt Alice I would stop. I know it. And I’ve been trying. I really have. But it’s harder than anyone can understand. The pressure, the weight of everything piling up—it’s too much sometimes.

I’m trying to hold it together, but the anxiety doesn’t let up. It’s like a pressure in my chest that I can’t shake off, and the pills make it bearable, at least for a little while. That’s the thing, though. It only works for a bit. Then the crash hits, and it’s like I’m falling again.

To make things worse, Nick saw me buy the Xanax from Emily. Yeah, Emily—the one who barely holds it together, needs anti-psychotics just to function. I don’t know how she does it, but at least she doesn’t judge me when I ask. Not like everyone else.

I shouldn’t have let him see. I shouldn’t have let him know, but he caught me. I can see it in his eyes, the concern, the confusion. He’s been too good to me, too patient, and it feels like I’m just dragging him down with all of this. He’s already got enough to deal with—he doesn’t need to be dealing with me.

I don’t know what to say to him when I see him again. What can I say? “Sorry, I’ve got a problem I can’t control”? That’s all I got. He’d probably try to help, tell me I don’t need these pills. And maybe I don’t, but the world feels a little less loud when I take them.

The bathroom door creaks, and I quickly shove the bottle of pills back into my pocket. I wipe my eyes, trying to make it look like I’ve been fine. But I can’t fool myself. I’m not fine. I’m just… numb. And I hate it.

Then, without warning, the stall door is slammed, followed by a voice that makes my skin crawl—Nicole Winters. Self-proclaimed sociopath, though I’m pretty sure she’s just really good at pretending. She’s got that voice—a mix of Mommy Longlegs from Poppy Playtime and Charlie from the Hazbin Hotel pilot episode. Not that I’m obsessed with voice acting or anything, but it’s hard not to notice when they’re voiced by the same person, Elsie Lovelock. But anyway, it’s her voice—grating, all sharp edges, like she’s trying to provoke a reaction.

“Yo, druggie, come on out.”

I roll my eyes and press my back against the wall. I know she’s not going to let up, but I really don’t feel like dealing with her today. The last thing I need is more attention drawn to me, especially not from her.

I just sit there, staring at the bathroom floor, feeling like the walls are closing in. Honestly, I wish I could crawl into the ground and disappear. My hands tremble a little, the pills still buzzing in my system, but I can’t let it show. Not here. Not now.

Nicole slams her palm against the door again, louder this time. “What’s the matter, huh? You too high to get out? Or is it that you’re just too weak?”

I want to scream. I really do. But the tears in my eyes are threatening to spill over, and I’m not going to let her see me break. Not here, not now. Not in this school.

She doesn’t get it, though. She doesn’t get how it feels to be constantly on edge, how the world feels like it’s constantly shifting under your feet, like you might fall at any moment. She’s just here to take her shots, to poke and prod, to make me feel worse.

I can feel the heat of embarrassment flooding my face, but I force it down, swallowing everything inside.

“You done yet?” I finally call out, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “I’ve got better things to do than deal with you.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the stall, and for a second, I think maybe she’s finally gone. But of course, she’s not. She never leaves.

“Whatever. Keep playing the victim, Uzi. But don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

I don’t respond. I don’t have to. Her words bounce off me, like all her others.

But when she finally walks off, I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I sit there in the silence, trying to push down the wave of emotions that’s threatening to crash over me.

I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

Then my phone buzzes, yanking me from the spiral I’m starting to fall into. A text from Nick.

U good?

That’s all he has to ask, and just like that, I’m a mess. I can feel the tears slipping down my face before I even realize it. I hate how easily he sees through me, how that simple question is enough to crack me wide open.

I want to send something snarky back. Some clever, biting response to cover up the fact that I’m falling apart. But I can’t even get my fingers to move. Instead, I just stare at the screen. The thought of trying to explain or lie feels impossible right now.

Then another text pops up.

Nicole bothering you again? 🤔

That stupid, infuriating emoji. The one that makes my stomach flip every damn time. Why does he do this to me? Why does it feel like the world stops for a second whenever I see that emoji?

Oh right. Because he’s my boyfriend. My boyfriend. How the hell did I pull him of all people?

I’m just this messed-up, broken girl with a smoking habit and a Xanax addiction. Who the hell finds me attractive? I look like I’ve stepped out of some cliché angst-ridden teen drama, but somehow, Nick still sees something in me.

I just stare at the screen again, my heart thudding in my chest. The text from him feels like a lifeline, but at the same time, it reminds me just how far gone I am. I can’t help but feel like I’m dragging him down with me.

It doesn’t make sense.

I don’t make sense.

But still, I send a reply, my fingers fumbling over the keys.

Yeah. She’s just being a bitch as usual. But I’m fine. Promise.

I don’t know why I lie to him like this. Maybe because it’s easier than admitting just how much I’m struggling. Easier than letting him see how much I need him, even if I don’t deserve him.

Before I can think too much about it, another text from Nick comes in.

Good. You better be okay, or I’ll come kick some ass myself. 😎

That damn emoji again. My stomach flutters, and I hate how it feels like he’s the only person who can make me feel better… even when I’m a mess. But I don’t respond right away.

I know he’s worried. Hell, I’m worried too. But I can’t tell him the truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, I wipe the tears off my face and force a breath, trying to ignore the overwhelming rush of emotions. I can’t fall apart here, not now. Not with school still ahead of me and people waiting for me to be ‘normal’. Whatever the hell that means.

One thing’s for sure—I don’t know what I’d do without Nick. Even if I don’t deserve him.

Honestly, this school is just as oppressive as Night City. At least here, I don’t have to worry about Cyberpsychos at every damn corner. A little Cyberpunk reference for y'all… Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking geek. How do I even come up with this stuff?

I roll my eyes at myself for even thinking it, but it’s just who I am, isn’t it? Lost in my own head, caught between trying to hold on to something and feeling like I’m just falling apart.

Then, another buzz from my phone.

Wanna ditch school? 😈

Dammit, Nick. Why do you have to make it so easy to say yes? Why is it that every time I see his name pop up, my brain short-circuits for a second? Maybe it’s because he knows how to pull me out of my head and make everything feel just a little bit more bearable, but at the same time, I know I’m not exactly doing him any favors by being so… complicated.

I groan quietly, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I try to come up with some sort of response that doesn’t make me sound like a complete mess. But damn it, I am a mess, and he knows it.

I text back, biting my lip as I do.

If we ditch, I’m blaming you for the inevitable detention. But hell yeah, let’s skip. Just don’t tell anyone. 😜

My thumb hovers over the send button for a second longer than it should, and I’m not sure if I’m more worried about the fact that I’m about to skip school—or that I’m about to accept this without thinking it through.

And then it’s out there, sent. No going back now.

I stare at my phone screen, that stupid little emoji staring back at me, making my heart do a weird little flip.

Damnit, Nick, you’re gonna be the death of me.

But in a good way? I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. In a bad way? Well, I’m not sure. But I do know this: his genuine care makes me weak in the knees, and I’m not sure if I like it or if it terrifies me. I guess I’m still figuring that out.

I close my eyes for a second, just letting the noise of the school day wash over me. It doesn’t seem so bad now. Not with a stupid grin on my face and a bad decision just waiting for me. I can’t help but think about the freedom I’ll get, even if it’s only for a few hours.

I don’t even realize that I’m smiling until I see the reply pop up.

See you in 10 . 😈

It’s like he knows exactly what I need—just a little push out of my comfort zone. And maybe that’s exactly what I need right now.

To put it bluntly, we ditched class and made our way to my dad’s place. He’s usually working most of the day anyway, so the house is empty. Nick doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact that I look like I’ve been crying—he doesn’t mention the Xanax either. I don’t deserve you, I think, but I don’t say it out loud. Why do I feel like I’m constantly on the edge of losing him, like I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off?

“Anything new with you? Other than Cyn DDoSing someone for beating her on Fortnite?” I say, trying to distract myself from the nervous knot in my stomach. The words spill out before I can think about them, hoping the conversation can get my heart to stop racing.

Nick just snickers and shakes his head. “If she DDoSed someone, I would’ve known,” he says, sounding so casually confident. Then, without warning, he drapes his arm over my shoulders. Goddamnit. My heart stops beating for a solid second, and the air around me feels too thin. Seriously, what about me screams perfect girlfriend material? I’ve got a smoking habit, a Xanax problem, and I’m a mess half the time.

But he just is there, you know? Like he doesn’t even mind. And that? That makes me both want to run away and throw myself into him all at once.

I shift a little, trying to play it cool. “Right, right, I’m just kidding. Cyn can barely figure out how to log into her damn account, let alone pull off a DDoS attack.” I laugh nervously, my voice cracking a little. Great, smooth move there, Uzi.

Nick just laughs along with me, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against my shoulder as we walk. “You’re terrible,” he says, nudging me with his elbow. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

I’m trying to keep it together, really. But I can feel my heart racing again, the stupid way he looks at me making me second-guess everything about myself. What’s wrong with you, Uzi? You’re just some messed-up girl with baggage, so why the hell is he still sticking around?

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on something—anything—other than how he’s holding me. “So, you think my dad’s going to freak when he sees us?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant, but inside I’m a tornado of nervous energy.

Nick shrugs, a grin still plastered on his face. “Probably, but you seem to have that magical ability to talk your way out of everything.”

It’s funny. Because he’s right. But I’ve never felt more fake than I do right now, like I’m running a show where the audience can see through every damn flaw.

Still, as we reach my dad’s house, I can’t help but feel the pull of relief—like maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel.

“Can I ask you something?” Nick suddenly asked, his voice calm but carrying a weight I couldn’t quite place. Immediately, my stomach drops. He’s gonna ask about the Xanax, isn’t he? My mind races, preparing for a confrontation I’m not at all ready for.

“Sure… wh-what is it?” I forced out, my voice sounding like a child who’d just been caught raiding the cookie jar. Great, I’m practically sweating bullets over here.

Nick tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye. “Is it true you play guitar?”

Bro—are you kidding me?! My heart skips a beat as my mind desperately scrambles for an explanation. I thought I took that damn video down years ago. How the hell did he find it?

“Y—you saw that video!?” I managed to say, trying to keep my composure, but I could feel the heat rising to my face, my palms clammy. I was so not prepared for this.

Nick just chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Cyn found it the other day, actually.”

Cyn?! Of course it was Cyn. She was the kind of curious kid who’d dig through every corner of the internet for a treasure trove of embarrassing moments. I could already picture her, grinning like a little devil, showing Nick a video that I thought was buried in the deepest crevice of the past.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I muttered, sinking my face into my hands. Why did I even bother?

Nick’s laughter was light, and I could hear the playful teasing in his voice. “It’s cute, Uzi. You really thought you could keep that a secret forever?”

I shot him a sideways glare, even though the embarrassment was still simmering inside me. “It’s not cute, it’s… stupid. That’s from when I was, like, eleven! It’s… embarrassing,” I mumbled, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Hey, you’re allowed to have your secrets,” Nick said with a shrug, still looking at me with that soft, disarming smile that made my heart twist in ways I wasn’t ready for. “But, for what it’s worth, you’re pretty good.”

His words caught me off guard. Good? Sure, I wasn’t a rockstar, but I never thought anyone cared enough to really listen, especially Nick. I blinked up at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“You—really think so?” I asked before I could stop myself, my voice coming out quieter than I intended.

Nick nodded, a half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, maybe you should pick it up again. Who knows, maybe I’ll even learn to play something.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. “You? Play guitar?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think the world’s ready for that level of chaos.”

Nick leaned in a little closer, his grin turning mischievous. “Maybe not, but I could give it a shot. You never know.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was a small, strange feeling of warmth spreading through my chest. Why does everything with him feel so… easy?

Still, I couldn’t help but feel exposed. The guitar video was a part of me I didn’t show anyone. It felt like a piece of the old Uzi that wasn’t completely jaded yet. And now, Nick had seen it. He knew something about me I hadn’t even realized I was still holding onto.

“Alright, well, next time you’re bored, just… don’t judge me too hard, okay?” I said, managing a half-smile.

Nick’s grin softened as his arm brushed against mine, and for a second, everything felt just a little more real. As we made our way to the door, he stopped and looked at me, his smile almost too genuine for my scrambled brain to process.

“Could you play something for me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was treading carefully, unsure of how far to push. The request hit me like a sucker punch, my heart stumbling over itself.

“You want to hear my shitty playing?” I asked, half-laughing to cover up the sudden wave of nerves. As I shut the door behind us, I could feel the tension building. Nick just smirked, unbothered, and dropped down onto the couch, looking up at me with that mix of charm and calm.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said with a casual shrug, like it was no big deal. But for some reason, it was a big deal. I hadn’t picked up that guitar in months—hell, maybe longer. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen it.

I rolled my eyes, trying to make light of it. “Yeah, sure. Let me just go dig it out of whatever pile it’s buried under.”

But when I started scanning the room, I realized something: I had no idea where the hell it was. The amp was nowhere to be found, and my aux cord? Forget about it. I hadn’t even used it since forever. A wave of embarrassment hit me, my chest tightening.

I’m really gonna fall flat on my face, aren’t I?

“Uh, give me a sec,” I mumbled, heading to the back of the room. Nick’s voice followed me, light and teasing.

“You’re overthinking it, Uzi. Just play something you enjoy, no big deal.”

Right. Something I enjoy. I stared at the empty corner of the room. The guitar was probably buried under a mountain of junk somewhere, but I couldn’t just tell him I had no clue where it was. That would make me look like an idiot.

I started rifling through some boxes, knocking over a few things in the process. “You know,” I called back to him, trying to keep things casual despite my nerves, “this is why I don’t do ‘request performances.’”

Nick chuckled from the couch, clearly enjoying the show. “I’ll make it worth your while. Just think of it as a low-stakes gig. No pressure.”

Low stakes gig, right. My fingers dug deeper into the boxes, each movement more frantic than the last, until finally—I found it. The case was wedged between two piles of old clothes, looking dusty and sad.

I pulled it out, cringing a little at the thought of actually playing, but when I opened the case, the sight of the guitar still gave me a weird kind of comfort. It was old, scratched, and probably out of tune, but it was mine.

“Well, look at that,” I muttered to myself as I set it down on the couch beside me. “I was about to swear off ever picking you up again.”

Nick watched with that same soft expression, a little amusement playing on his face. “You’re gonna do fine. I trust you.”

I hated how his words made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t show it. “We’ll see about that,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I plugged in the amp and strummed the first few chords. The sound was a little tinny—definitely needed tuning—but at least it was still working.

I played a few hesitant notes, trying to warm my fingers up. Then I realized—I actually did miss it. The feeling of the strings beneath my fingertips, the rhythm falling into place.

And I couldn’t help but smile, just a little. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

I took a deep breath and started playing a simple tune, one that I used to play all the time. Nick didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me, his presence like an anchor keeping me grounded.

By the time I finished the first part, I was halfway through it without thinking too hard. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Nick leaned forward a little, his gaze locked on me, like he wasn’t going to move until I finished. “I told you,” he said softly, as if reading my thoughts, “you’ve got this.”

It was a weird moment—vulnerable but safe, like I wasn’t alone in it. I took another breath, finishing the rest of the song with more confidence than I thought I had. And when I stopped, Nick let out a low whistle.

“Okay, that was awesome,” he said, clearly impressed. “You’re a natural.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading through me was undeniable. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”

Nick grinned. “Nah. I’m serious. You’ve got a real talent.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little proud, but I didn’t want to get too carried away. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly put it to good use.”

He shrugged again, not losing that genuine smile. “Who says you have to? You’re good at it. That’s enough.”

The silence between us wasn’t awkward, though. It felt like I could breathe again. I wasn’t just Uzi, the girl who messed everything up all the time. In that moment, I was someone who created something, who didn’t have to hide behind all the baggage I’d been dragging around.

Maybe I could do this after all.

I looked down at the guitar in my lap, feeling its familiar weight. The dark purple color was my color, no doubt about it. It was an 8-string model, sleek and a little intimidating, but I had gotten used to it over the years. What really made it mine was the engraving on the back of the headstock—my name, etched there by someone who knew how much this guitar meant to me. My mom had commissioned it for me before she… well, before she passed away. She’d always supported my music, and I never had the heart to stop playing, even if I wasn’t doing anything with it.

I ran my fingers along the strings absently, then looked up at Nick, a shy smile tugging at my lips. “You a DOOM fan?”

Nick blinked at me for a moment, a little confused, like he was trying to place what I’d just said. “Isn’t that the game with the dude who’s literally too angry to die?”

I snorted. That wasn’t a bad description, honestly. “Doom Guy. And yeah, that’s the one. I’m gonna play my favorite riff from that game.”

His eyebrows shot up a little, but he didn’t say anything. I could tell he was curious now, though, so I let the tension build for a second before I finally smirked.

“You ever heard of Mick Gordon?” I asked, getting ready to play. “He’s a legend. Best part of the entire game’s soundtrack.”

I could already hear the iconic opening riff in my head, the one that would get anyone pumped up—At Doom’s Gate, E1M1, for you cultured folk. It was heavy, relentless, and powerful. But the Mick Gordon version? That was something else entirely. It hit differently.

Nick just grinned at me, like he was waiting for me to prove my point.

So I did. I cranked up the amp and hit the first chord, the sharpness of it ringing out into the room. The familiar hum of the strings vibrated through my fingertips, and for a moment, I was lost in the sound, not caring about anything else. My fingers flew over the fretboard with ease, and despite myself, I felt that rush of adrenaline that came every time I played something I loved.

The sound was loud, heavy, and gritty, just like the game. I felt Nick’s eyes on me, and I could sense his growing approval, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t about impressing him. It was about something real, something that made me feel grounded.

When I hit the last note, I looked up at Nick, feeling a little out of breath.

“Okay, maybe not the best riff to start with, but you get the idea,” I said with a half-smile.

Nick just sat there, slack-jawed for a second, clearly not expecting that level of intensity. “Holy shit. That was amazing. I didn’t know you could do that.”

I shrugged, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my neck. “Like I said, I don’t really do anything with it.”

He leaned back on the couch, still grinning like an idiot. “Well, you definitely should do something with it. That was… insane.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing out of my shoulders. “I don’t know, Nick. I’m not exactly looking to join a metal band or anything.”

But the way he looked at me—like I had just revealed some hidden part of myself—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could.

“Maybe not a metal band, but I could totally see you just rocking out on stage. You’ve got the talent.”

His words were unexpected, but somehow they made sense. Maybe it was a long shot, but it felt good to be seen like this—like I wasn’t just some mess of insecurities. Maybe there was more to me than I realized.

I laughed again, but this time it felt real. “Thanks, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Nick just smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. “I’m just saying, you should play for more people. You should be the one blowing the roof off places with riffs like that.”

I felt my heart flutter for a second, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I picked up the guitar again and strummed a few softer chords, letting the weight of the conversation fade into something lighter.

For once, it felt like maybe I wasn’t alone in this. Maybe I could actually find something worth fighting for, even if it was just a riff, a guitar, and a guy who somehow saw me for who I really was.

And maybe that was enough for now.

Chapter Text

Fuckin’ Christ. Nori again. Y’all don’t understand how insufferable Absey is! She’s been ranting and bitching for nearly twenty goddamn minutes while her little yes men just sit there, nodding and agreeing like a bunch of spineless idiots. I swear, if I didn’t need this paycheck, I would’ve told her to shove it up her ass hours ago. But no, I’ve got no choice but to sit here, listen to this shit, and pretend like I’m not about to lose my goddamn mind. So buckle up, bitches. You’re in for a wild ride.

“Oh Noooorrrriii~”

I hear that voice, and I feel my blood pressure shoot up. She drags my name out like she’s tryin’ to seduce me or something. If looks could kill, I swear she’d be six feet under by now. I’m not even exaggerating. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill her. I really am.

“Goddamn it, what now?” I growl, barely holding back a full-on eye roll as I look over at her. Absey’s loungin’ in her chair like she owns the damn place, all high and mighty with that smug little smile plastered on her face.

“Darling, you know I adore your fiery spirit.” She purrs, practically dripping with condescension. “But I do wish you’d be a bit more civil.”

I snap my head back to her, narrowing my eyes. Civility? Does she even know what that means?

“Yeah, well, I wish I didn’t have to listen to your whiny ass for another second. But, here we are.”

Her eyes flicker, a flash of annoyance crossing her features, but she quickly masks it with that fake-ass smile. I’m not impressed. Not even a little bit.

“I’m serious, Nori.” She leans forward, elbows resting on the desk, the way she looks at me making my skin crawl. “You really need to start understanding the bigger picture. It’s not all about you, sweetheart.”

I snort, crossing my arms. “The bigger picture? Yeah, I get it, okay? We’re all a bunch of tiny little pieces in your grand, twisted puzzle. But don’t think for a second that I’m buying this ‘bigger picture’ crap. You’re just a manipulative bitch, and everyone can see it, even if they won’t say it out loud.”

For a moment, the room goes deathly quiet. Her so-called yes men are still there, nodding like trained seals, but none of them dare to open their mouths. I can practically feel Absey’s blood boiling, and it puts a wicked grin on my face. Maybe I don’t hate all this as much as I pretend to.

“You know, Nori…” she says slowly, her voice cold as ice, “You’re really testing my patience. I don’t mind putting you in your place if you keep running that mouth of yours.”

“Yeah?” I snap back, not giving a damn about the warning. “You can try. But you’re gonna have to get in line behind all the other assholes I’ve had to deal with today.”

She leans back, all high and mighty again, that stupid grin still plastered on her face like she’s won. But deep down, I can tell she’s pissed off, and that’s the best part. The look in her eyes—she’s losing her grip, and I’m here for it.

“Alright, Nori,” she says, clearly trying to regain control of the situation, “We’ll see how long that attitude lasts.”

I flash her a grin, one that matches hers in all the wrong ways. “Yeah, well, keep dreaming, sweetheart. You’re gonna need a hell of a lot more than your little puppet show to put me in my place.”

She glares at me, her hands tightening into fists on the desk. I know she’s about to blow, but honestly? I can’t wait. I’m not scared of her or her little power games. If she thinks I’ll bow down, she’s got another thing coming.

Absey looks like she’s about to say something, but before she can, I stand up, pushing my chair back with a loud scrape that makes everyone jump.

“Sorry, can’t listen to this shit anymore.” I throw my hands up. “You’re a broken record, and I’m done playing your games. Catch me later when you’ve got something worth hearing.”

With that, I turn and storm out, the last thing I hear being her voice, shrill and demanding. But I don’t give a damn. If she thinks she’s won today, she’s sorely mistaken. I’m done with her.

Done with all of it.

But before I can even make it out the damn door, a rifle butt slams into my spine, sending me crashing to the floor with a painful thud. My face meets the cold, grimy tile, and before I can even process the pain, one of Absey’s mindless yes men grabs me by the arm, hauling me back into the room like some damn ragdoll. I barely get a breath before the door slams shut behind me, locking me back in with her and her gang of idiots.

Great. Another fucking lecture.

I spit out a mouthful of dust, pushing myself up onto my knees, but Absey's already towering over me, her shadow casting down like a goddamn thundercloud.

“Y’know, Nori…” Her voice drops, so low it’s almost a hiss, and my stomach sinks. “I’ve been letting you get away with that sass long enough.” Her words cut through the air like a blade, and I can feel the threat in every syllable.

I push myself to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, already ready to give her shit right back. But the tone she’s using? It makes me hesitate, just for a split second. The last thing I need right now is for her to take this any further. She’s already crossed the line more than once. And if she thinks I’m gonna back down now…

"I could just go and find your kid, Nori," she continues, her voice quiet but seething with malice. "Throw her in the harbor, y’know? Make an example of what happens when you fuck with me."

That hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. My heart skips a beat, my blood turning cold in my veins. She’s threatening my kid now.

I don’t even care that she’s pissed. That’s not the part that has me reeling. What I care about is the line she just crossed. Absey can run her mouth all she wants, but the second she brings Uzi into this?

Hell no.

“Touch her,” I growl through gritted teeth, “and I’ll put you in the ground.”

Absey smirks, the kind of smile that makes your skin crawl. She steps closer, almost like she’s testing me, but I stand my ground, fists clenched at my sides. She knows I’m pissed, and the tension in the air between us thickens like a storm about to break.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” she taunts. “You don’t think I’m serious?”

My hand twitches, and I take a step forward, leaning into her face, eyes blazing. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, Absey. I’ll take you down before you even lay a hand on her.”

The room feels like it’s suffocating now, and I can feel the weight of everyone watching. The yes men are hanging back, just waiting for their queen to give them a signal. But I’m not backing down. Not this time.

“You threaten my kid again, and you’ll regret it,” I warn, voice low and full of venom. “And I don’t give a shit about your little empire. I will burn it all to the ground if it means keeping her safe.”

Absey’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, there’s something there. Something... real . But she quickly hides it behind that icy exterior of hers. She knows she’s tested my limits, and now she’s seeing exactly how far I’m willing to go.

But here’s the thing. She doesn’t know who I am. Doesn’t know how far I’m willing to push, what I’m willing to sacrifice. Threaten Uzi again? Fuck with my family? That’s where I draw the line, and I’ll make sure she understands that— even if it means going through hell to do it.

She backs off, but I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for now, I’ve made my point.

And I swear, if she thinks she can get away with this... she’s dead wrong.

I turn on my heel, shoving past two of her useless yes men without a second thought. I don’t give a damn about them, not now. My fists are clenched, and my teeth are gritted as I storm out of the room, feeling the weight of the bullshit I’ve just endured slithering off my back like a snake shedding its skin.

Fuck. That. I’m done.

Now seems like as good a time as any to disappear— really disappear. Like Absey’s dad did when she was a kid. One day he was there, the next? Gone. Vanished without a trace. She was left with nothing but her pathetic little empire and a whole lot of unresolved daddy issues.

But not me. I’m done dealing with her shit. She can suck it for all I care. She made me fake my death once, but this time? No more games. I’m out.

I don’t even spare a glance back as I push through the door and into the hallway. I don’t have time to linger, no time for second thoughts. This is happening. I’m leaving .

I get to my apartment, slamming the door behind me like I’m closing out the entire world. My mind’s racing as I toss the place into chaos, grabbing whatever I can that I might need to vanish. A bag, a few pairs of clothes, snacks for the road, hair dye—hell, I don’t even care if I’m being messy about it. I’m not planning on coming back anytime soon. There’s no time to waste being neat and tidy. I’m not about to stick around and play by anyone’s rules.

I grab a few other essentials—my burner phone, a wallet with a few hundred bucks, and my emergency stash of cash I keep hidden under the floorboards for just such an occasion. All the things that’ll help me disappear and stay gone for good. This city doesn’t need me, and frankly, I don’t need it either.

I try to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one that tells me I’m making a mistake. That I’m abandoning everything, everyone. But the way I see it, it’s either I vanish and live my life on my own terms, or I stay and let Absey grind me into the dirt until I’m nothing.

I don’t know which one’s scarier.

But then again, that’s not my problem anymore.

I’m leaving, and nothing’s gonna stop me.

Not even a few minutes after I left my apartment, I heard the unmistakable sound of Absey’s goons crashing through my door. Fucking amateurs. They’ll probably be searching through my place for hours, but whatever. Good fucking riddance, assholes. I don’t have time to stick around and watch them tear my life apart.

I take off, fast and furious, heading straight for the old car lot on the edge of town. It’s a rundown place, barely more than a scrap yard with a few rusted vehicles gathering dust. But hidden behind a stack of old tires, I find it. The one car that’s gonna get me the hell out of here. A Ford Focus. It’s an absolute rust bucket—held together by tape, prayers, and spite—but it’s mine. And right now, it’s my ticket out.

I yank open the driver’s side door, grimacing at the creak it makes, and slide into the seat. The engine sputters, groans, and nearly dies on me before finally kicking to life. The rattling almost makes it sound like the car’s in pain, but I don’t care. It’ll do the job.

I slam the gearshift into drive, and before I know it, I’m tearing out of the lot, leaving that apartment building, Absey, and everything else behind. For now, anyway.

My mind starts racing, the weight of what I’m doing finally catching up with me. Home. I’m headed back home. To my husband, to Uzi.

Khan’s probably gonna faint when he sees me. Hell, he was always so goddamn head over heels for me back in high school. It was almost pathetic, but honestly, kind of cute. He’d do anything for me, and I know damn well he’ll be over the moon to see me again. I can already picture that goofy grin of his. But as I roll down the road, a thought gnaws at me, sinking its teeth in and refusing to let go.

Uzi.

I left. No, I didn’t just leave—I fucking abandoned her. I up and disappeared, no explanation, no nothing. And that’s if you count the fact that Absey practically forced me into faking my fucking death. Fucking whore. It’s all her fault.

But now? Now, after all this time, I’m wondering if Uzi even remembers me the same way. Will she even be willing to talk to me after… what? Fifteen years? Fuck if I remember how long it’s been. Time’s a blur when you’ve been running from your own life, trying to escape the consequences of your mistakes.

But even if she’s pissed—and who the fuck could blame her?—I’m still her mother. I didn’t come back to be a hero or to fix everything, because I can’t. But I can try to make things right.

I take a deep breath, the weight of it all pressing down on me. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, or how much I fucked up. I’m doing this. For her. For us.

And if she slams the door in my face, well, at least I’ll know I tried.

I pull into a truck stop, the tires screeching slightly as I slam on the brakes. I need to get this hair dye in before I keep driving. The dark brown shade should do the trick—hopefully it'll cover up the bleach job Absey forced me into. Honestly, I look fucking terrible with blonde hair.

I walk into the truck stop’s bathroom, glancing around to make sure no one’s watching. I’m already getting a few looks from the couple of truckers milling around the place, but at this point, I don’t give a shit. I’m way past caring about what people think of me. If I wasn’t already deep into this mess, the blonde hair alone would probably give me away, but fuck it. I ran out of fucks to give the moment Absey made me fake my death.

As I mix the dye, I can’t help but think about Yeva. Big sister, if you could see me now, you’d probably be so fucking disappointed in me. Hell, you'd probably slap me first, then give me a goddamn bear hug, because that’s how we worked. Always giving me shit, but still trying to protect me. But I’m not her anymore. I’m not that scared, lost kid who needed her to guide me. I’m on my own now.

But as I rub the dye into my hair, I can’t shake that sinking feeling. What if Uzi can’t forgive me? What if I’m just some stranger now, just another screw-up in her eyes?

I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that I’m trying to fix my hair, or that I’m trying to fix my life. Neither of those seem like they’re gonna work out. But I guess I’ll have to find out the hard way.

The shitty part now is that I’ll probably be putting dye in my hair for the rest of my life. Just fucking great. I can already picture the constant maintenance, the worry about roots, the smell of dye in my nose—hell, maybe I’ll even get used to it. But right now, it’s just another goddamn reminder of how fucked up everything is.

As I finish up with the dye job and wipe my hands off, I hear the door creak open. A new voice cuts through the air, and when I turn to look, my heart skips a beat.

Alice.

My little sister, standing there in the doorway, eyes wide and a bit startled. She’s… here? What the hell is she doing here?

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” she asks, her southern accent thick as ever. It’s a trait she picked up from our Uncle, and hearing it again hits me like a freight train. Goddammit, I just want to pull her into a hug and cry.

But I can’t do that. Not yet.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, you’re not,” I reply sharply, doing my best to sound like I’ve got this under control. If she doesn’t recognize me, I’m not drawing attention to it. Not now. Not when I’ve got my whole fucking life in pieces.

She tilts her head, looking me over with a frown that deepens when she notices the tension in my shoulders. I can feel my heart thudding against my chest, but I won’t let it show. Not yet.

“Y’know,” Alice continues, her brow furrowing, “you look like someone I know. Ain’t no way I’m mistakin’ that vibe.”

I freeze. Shit. She’s getting closer. I can feel it. Her voice has softened, like she’s trying to be careful, but there’s something in her tone. Something too familiar, too knowing. And for the first time, I start to question whether I can really keep running from the truth.

I force a tight smile. “You’re probably thinkin’ of someone else.”

I just need to get out of here. Leave before she realizes who I really am.

But then again, I can’t leave. Not without facing what’s coming next.

But as I turn to begin packing up, I misstep and hit my foot on the sink. Pain shoots up my leg, and out of pure habit, I mutter something in Russian.

"Черт возьми! Чёрт возьми…"

It’s a curse I’ve said a thousand times before, but as soon as it leaves my lips, I see Alice’s eyes widen. Her hands tremble slightly, and she freezes in place. I can feel her gaze burning into me as the silence stretches on, thick and suffocating.

She opens her mouth, trying to speak, but no words come out. Meanwhile, I’m mentally cursing myself out. You fucking idiot. You always slip up when you’re trying to hide something. Why didn’t I just shut the hell up? I’ve been running from this for so long, and now—here it is. Right in front of me.

“Nori…” Alice whispers, her voice small, like she’s scared of what she just heard.

I freeze, my back going stiff, my breath hitching in my throat. It’s like someone just shoved a fucking knife through me. I can’t do this. Not here. Not now.

This was never part of the plan. I wasn’t ready for her to see me, for her to recognize me like this. Not after everything. Not after I’d convinced myself I could be someone else for just a little while longer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I finally manage to rasp out, but my voice cracks as soon as I say it. Too much emotion— too much —I can feel it building in my chest like a storm. And I can’t let her see it. I can’t let her know.

But Alice just stands there, frozen, her eyes still locked on me. The kind of look that pulls at the strings of my heart, one I thought I’d left behind a long time ago.

“Nori…” she says again, her voice breaking. “You… you’re really alive?”

Fuck. I close my eyes, trying to shut it all out. I’m not here to feel things. But damn it, my heart betrays me every damn time.

Honestly, I expected Alice to be furious with me. Hell, I would’ve almost preferred it if she was. But instead, she does something I’m not prepared for. She walks right up behind me, grabs my shoulders, and turns me around so she can get a full look at my face.

And then— then —she breaks down. Her hands shake as she pulls me into a tight, desperate hug, burying her face in my shoulder like she’s trying to cling to something real. Something she thought was gone forever.

I just stand there, stiff, not knowing what the hell to do. My arms don’t move. My mouth doesn’t open. I don’t say a damn word. I’m paralyzed. I don’t even know what I’m feeling, let alone how to comfort her.

The tears in her voice tear through me when she speaks, though.

“Nori, I—I thought you were… I thought you were dead,” she whispers, her words muffled against my shoulder. The weight of it all hits me in waves. She thought I was dead. She thought I was dead.

I made her think that. I forced her to believe I was gone.

It was easier that way. It was always easier to walk away, to disappear, to stop feeling like I was fucking up everyone’s life around me. But standing here with Alice— alive —I can feel every mistake I’ve made, every selfish decision that led to this point.

“Alice…” My voice cracks as I finally manage to rasp out her name. But she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t let go. She just holds me tighter, her body shaking as she sobs quietly into my shoulder.

Her older sister—who she thought was dead—standing in front of her, in a goddamn truck stop bathroom, of all places. The irony isn’t lost on me.

What the hell am I supposed to say? What the hell am I supposed to do? I can feel the tears welling up in my own eyes, but I fight them back. I’m not letting her see me like this. She needs me to be strong right now, not some wreck of a woman who’s been running from her own damn self for far too long.

But instead of pulling away, I find myself reaching for her, my arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer. She needs this. She deserves this. And hell, maybe I do too.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper hoarsely, even though I don’t know how to fix any of this. “I’m so fucking sorry, Alice.”

After a moment, Alice pulls back with a shaky smile, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Get your things, I got someone I want ya to meet,” she says, her voice wavering, as if she’s holding herself together by a thread, desperately trying not to fall apart again.

“Who? And why you of all people are here?” I ask, trying to pull myself together, but my heart is still racing from the sudden onslaught of emotions. I start gathering my things, barely managing to keep my composure as Alice chuckles softly, her smile sad but genuine.

“Just follow me,” she says, motioning for me to follow her. We walk out of the bathroom, and as we step into the dining area, my mind goes blank for a second.

Sitting at the table is a guy who looks exactly like Alice—same amber eyes, same features. But the weirdest part? He’s tall, built, and wearing a faded baseball cap that only adds to the whole "charming farm boy" vibe he’s got going on. And then it hits me.

Wait. She has a kid ?!

I blink, confused as hell, trying to make sense of what’s happening. “Wait…you have a kid?” I manage to croak out, staring between Alice and this guy—Beau, I guess.

Alice seems to notice my stunned silence and chuckles again, though this time, there’s a bittersweet edge to it.

“Nori, this is Beau, my son,” she says, gesturing to the tall guy beside her. He looks up at me with a smirk, tipping his hat like some kind of cowboy.

“Howdy,” he says with a lazy grin. His voice, thick with that southern drawl I hadn’t realized I’d been missing, sends a jolt through me. Of course, of course he’s got that accent. It makes me wonder who the hell put up with Alice long enough to... well, you know .

I barely manage to suppress my awkward laugh. What is wrong with me?

Alice clears her throat and introduces me. “Beau, this is my older sister, Nori.” She says it so softly, but I can hear the tightness in her voice, the emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. She’s barely holding it together.

Beau gives me a quick once-over, his eyes flicking between me and Alice, before his jaw drops slightly in shock.

“Ma, didn’t you say she... well, ya said she died like nearly a decade and a half ago?” His voice wavers just a little, but I don’t think anyone would have noticed unless they were looking closely.

Alice freezes, the color draining from her face. She looks away, blinking rapidly as if she’s trying to keep her composure. It’s obvious she’s trying not to break down again.

“Yeah, well,” she clears her throat, wiping a tear away quickly, “Things change.”

I stand there, unsure how to respond. A million thoughts are running through my mind, too fast for me to process. I haven’t seen Alice in years, and to be honest, I didn’t expect her to have a kid, let alone this kid. Beau’s eyes are so similar to hers that it almost feels surreal.

And then it hits me—just how much time has passed. How much I missed. The years I spent in my own mess, and all the time Alice must’ve spent moving forward.

“So... you’re Beau, huh?” I ask, trying to break the tension.

Beau gives a quick, easy smile, the same charm Alice had when we were kids—before everything went to hell. “That’s me. Nice to meet ya.”

The words feel heavy in the air as I sit down, still processing the shock of it all. Alice’s little family. Beau. What else am I missing? How much has she changed while I’ve been... gone?

“Well,” Beau adds with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “You must be really something if Ma’s still talkin’ about you after all these years.”

Alice shoots him a pointed look, but there’s a warmth in it now, the kind of look only a mother can give her son. “Beau, don’t make me regret introducing you.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. It’s nice. Maybe even comforting in a weird way.

The awkwardness of the situation lingers, but just a little. It’s clear that Alice wants to fix things, wants to bridge the gap. But how the hell do you bridge that kind of distance? How do you make sense of a decade of absence?

I take a deep breath and try to push it aside.

"Yeah, well... it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?" I finally say, my voice steadier than I thought it would be.

After about ten minutes of talking about anything but the giant elephant in the room, Beau gets up, stretching lazily before heading toward the bathroom. The second he’s out of earshot, I whip around to Alice, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her lightly as I whisper harshly.

“How’s Khan and Uzi?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, my voice just a little more desperate than I intended.

Alice’s expression shifts immediately. She sucks in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching as she glances at her phone—an iPhone, of all things. How the hell does she afford an iPhone?! I can barely scrape together enough to eat for a few weeks, and she’s out here rocking Apple products like it’s nothing? Shit, focus, Nori.

Alice finally pockets the phone, her gaze darkening as she exhales. “Khan’s been… alright.”

I don’t miss the hesitation in her voice.

“And Uzi?” I press, my grip on her shoulders tightening slightly.

Alice looks away, her voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “She’s a wreck. Emo phase ‘n all.”

My stomach twists uncomfortably. Of course she is. The kid was already a handful when she was younger—smart as hell, but way too much like me for her own good. If she’s anything like I was at that age, then shit … she’s drowning, and no one’s noticed, or worse, no one cares enough to throw her a damn lifeline.

“Define ‘wreck,’” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my pulse is starting to pick up.

Alice hesitates again, and that tells me everything I need to know.

“Cigarettes, Xanax… and a boyfriend.”

Oh, hell to the no.

Wait. No. That might actually be good. Or it could end terribly .

I blink, my brain short-circuiting for a second before I snap my attention back to Alice. “Is he nice? Does he treat her right? Or do I need to kick his ass?” My hand instinctively brushes against the weight in my coat pocket—my Glock.

Oh. Shit.

Forgot I had that.

Alice arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You packin’ heat at a fuckin’ truck stop?”

I clear my throat and move my hand away from the gun like it suddenly burns. “ Not the point.”

Alice sighs, rubbing her temples like she already regrets telling me any of this. “Nick’s a good kid,” she says after a moment. “Dumb as hell sometimes, but he actually cares about her, which is more than I can say for most people in that girl’s life.”

I narrow my eyes. “Dumb how?”

Alice waves a dismissive hand. “Y’know. The kind of guy who’d challenge a dude twice his size to a fight ‘cause he insulted Uzi’s eyeliner.”

…Okay, maybe I like this kid just a little.

Still, Xanax? Cigarettes? That’s more than just an emo phase . That’s screaming for help in neon letters.

“She ever talk about… why?” I ask carefully.

Alice takes a steady breath, lowering her voice. “She confessed to me a few weeks ago about the cigs and Xanax—asked me for help, actually.”

Okay. Good . She’s accepting help. That’s a hell of a lot better than pretending she doesn’t need it.

I exhale, finally letting go of Alice’s shoulders just as Beau strides back to the table. Of course, he’s wiping his hands on a damn checkered handkerchief, really leaning into that whole country pretty boy aesthetic.

I swear to God, it’s like he walked straight out of a cowboy romance novel.

“I miss anything?” he asks, sinking back into his chair with that easy smirk.

My mind’s still spinning, but Alice answers before I can.

“Just some things between us, nothin’ you need to worry ‘bout.”

Her drawl drags out the words, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from rolling my eyes. Sometimes I really hate that fuckin’ accent.

Beau raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension. “That so?”

Alice shoots him a look. “That’s so.”

He shrugs, leaning back like he couldn’t care less, but I don’t miss the way his amber eyes flick between us, sharp and calculating. He might play the laid-back cowboy, but something tells me he’s got more of Alice’s steel in him than he lets on.

I drum my fingers against the table, trying to gather my thoughts. “So… when’s the next time you’re seeing Uzi?”

Alice hesitates. “…Tomorrow. Why?”

I tighten my jaw.

“Because I need to see her too.”

“‘Cause she got mommy issues,” Beau quipped, his smirk widening like he’d just won something.

I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. This kid is really starting to test me.

“Beau!” Alice snapped, attempting her best mom voice —which, judging by the lack of impact, still needed some work.

Beau held his hands up in surrender, but I caught the amusement in his eyes. Little shit.

I exhaled sharply, grabbed my things, and stood up. But before I could take a step, Alice’s hand clamped around my arm like a vice.

“You ain’t goin’ yet,” she said, firm but not unkind. “Let me at least get you some food.”

For someone barely scraping past 5’5”, she had a grip like iron.

“You can’t boss me around,” I shot back, leveling her with the full force of my big sister glare.

And yet… she didn’t flinch.

Either Beau had been a menace of a child, or she spent too much time wrangling fifth graders, because she stood her ground like an absolute brick wall.

“…Fine,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I dropped back into my seat. “But if you’re gonna feed me, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Alice smirked. “Knock yourself out, hon.”

Beau leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “If you’re feelin’ generous, I wouldn’t say no to a steak.”

Alice shot him a glare, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Menace confirmed.

“You’re worse than fifth and second period classes combined,” Alice muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

So she did teach. Now I really wanna know what she does.

“You’re a teacher?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

Alice chuckled and slid a menu in front of me. “Fifth grade English.”

I smirked. “Called it.”

Beau leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “That explains why you suck at math.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “You wanna walk home?”

Beau just grinned. “Depends, you gonna make me?”

Alice sighed, rubbing her temples, and I couldn’t help but snicker. “This is hilarious. You’re out here molding the future of America, and you can’t even get your own kid to behave.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered before fixing me with a look. “Now, are you gonna order, or do I gotta pick for you?”

I glanced at the menu, scanning the options before deciding to push my luck. “So… what’s the most expensive thing here?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Girl, I will smack you.”

“Try me, ya little shit,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at Alice. But before I could properly square up with my oh-so-beloved younger sister, a waitress strolled over.

Wait a fucking minute—

Doll!?

Sure as hell, it was Doll. Yeva’s kid. My niece .

Since when was she working tables in this dump?

“Hello, Auntie. Beau. Miss. What may I get you today?” she asked, all polite and professional.

Thank Christ she didn’t recognize me. That girl’s always been a damn snitch .

I stole a glance at Alice, who was barely containing her amusement, and then at Beau, who looked like he was debating whether to stir the pot or behave.

Before anyone could say anything stupid, I cleared my throat. “Uh, just coffee for now.”

Beau grinned. “Same here, miss .”

Alice sighed. “Just get us all coffee and bring me the usual, sweetheart.”

Doll nodded and turned on her heel to leave. The second she was out of earshot, I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Since when does Doll work here?”

Alice smirked, flipping a pen between her fingers. “Since Khan said she needed to learn some ‘work ethic’ instead of spending all her time on that VR garbage she’s obsessed with.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause serving fries to drunk assholes is really gonna change her life.”

Alice shrugged. “Better than her wasting away in her room all day.”

Beau leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Betcha five bucks she figures out who you are by the end of lunch.”

I rolled my eyes. “Make it ten, and you’re on.”

“How much we bettin’?” Beau asked, leaning forward like a gambler ready to strike gold.

Before I could slap a crisp twenty on the table, Alice nailed me in the ribs with her elbow. Hard.

“Ow,” I drawled dramatically, clutching my side like she just shanked me.

Alice, completely unfazed, clicked her pen and pointed it at me like I was an unruly student about to get detention. The dreaded teacher stare was in full effect.

“You’re both actin’ like kids,” she scolded, before turning her glare to her angel of a son. “Beau, if you keep this up, you’ll either be walkin’ home, or Nori will have to give you a ride.”

Beau grinned. “Sweet, free ride.”

Alice didn’t miss a beat. “And knowin’ her, she’s got a rust bucket of a car.”

I gasped, offended to my core. “ You bitch. ”

Alice just smirked.

“How dare you insult my Ford Focus like that? That car’s a damn survivor! ” I huffed, crossing my arms.

Beau snickered. “ Rust bucket kinda proves her point, though.”

I whipped my glare to him. “You wanna walk ?”

He lifted his hands in surrender, chuckling. Alice just shook her head, clearly questioning how she was related to either of us.

Before I could fire back with a defense of my perfectly functional ( if slightly duct-taped ) vehicle, Doll returned with the coffee, giving me a weird look.

Shit.

Maybe Beau would win this bet after all.

Yeah. Doll definitely made me.

“Miss, here’s your coffee,” she said, placing the cup in front of me with a knowing look. “Now, are you three ready to order?”

She pulled a notepad from her apron, tapping her pen against it like she was waiting for someone to slip up.

Alice went first, ordering a burger and fries. Simple. Classic. Safe.

Beau, being the little shit that he is, ordered a steak. Medium rare. Alice shot him a look.

“You really ordering that in a truck stop diner?” she asked, clearly rethinking every life decision that led to this moment.

Beau just smirked. “Live a little, Ma.”

Alice sighed like a woman who had lost this battle many times before.

Then it was my turn. I could feel Doll’s eyes boring into me, waiting for me to say something dumb.

I glanced at the menu, then huffed. “Chicken tenders and fries.”

Alice blinked. “Wasn’t somebody just making a whole thing about ordering a steak?”

“So what if it’s childish?” I shot back. “ Sue me. ”

Doll snorted, jotting it down. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Oh, she was enjoying this.

I took a long, pointed sip of my coffee as she walked off. The second she was out of earshot, Beau leaned in, grinning like an idiot.

“So how’s it feel to lose? ”

I flipped him off and took another sip.

Chapter Text

Hey, it’s Uzi again, and I’m actually in a decent mood for once. Miracles do happen, I guess.

So, Nick and I spent hours playing on my old PS4—the one I totally forgot I even owned. It was buried under a mountain of junk in my closet, which, in retrospect, explains why I never bothered looking for it. Digging it out turned into an excavation project, and in the process, I found a few other interesting things:

• An old action figure of Superman. Cape’s missing, but he’s still standing strong. Respect.
• A very expired bag of McDonald’s. Like, fossilized levels of old. (Don’t worry, I tossed it before it could develop sentience.)
• And, most importantly—my good aux cable for my 8-string guitar. I’ve been wondering where the hell it was ever since Nick asked me to play something for him. Would’ve been nice to have then, but whatever.

Anyway, that’s all beside the point. The real highlight was gaming. We played couch co-op for hours , running through the classics:

• Minecraft (the good console version, not that cursed Bedrock edition).
• COD, because nothing strengthens a bond like yelling at each other over killstreaks.
• Rocket League, where Nick absolutely humiliated me. I’ll get my revenge.
• The OG Helldivers. Yeah, we definitely spread some well-managed democracy.

Overall? Pretty solid day.

But after we finished our twelfth dive on Helldivers against the Automatons ( FUCK the Illuminate), I decided enough was enough. I shut off the PlayStation, flopped back on the couch, and just… existed for a bit. No explosions, no killstreaks, no sweaty missions—just the two of us, sitting there in comfortable silence.

That kind of hanging out that boyfriends and girlfriends do. ( Still blows my mind I pulled him. )

Nick stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back beside me. “I think we single-handedly saved Super Earth today,” he said with a smirk, turning his head to look at me.

I snorted. “Damn right we did. Democracy is safe for another day.”

He chuckled, his arm lazily draping across the back of the couch, just close enough to brush my shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it sent a weird little spark through me. I glanced at him, taking in the way he looked so at home here, like he belonged.

“Hey,” I said after a moment, my voice softer than I expected.

“Hmm?”

I hesitated. My brain was moving a mile a minute, trying to figure out what I even wanted to say. Instead, I just leaned my head against his shoulder.

“…Nothing,” I mumbled.

Nick didn’t push for more. He just smiled, resting his cheek against my head. And for the first time in a long time, everything felt… okay.

But I knew it was too good to last.

Nick shifted slightly beside me, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against his knee. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he spoke.

"Hey... do you mind if I ask about the… Xanax you bought from Emily?"

His voice was so gentle , like he was afraid I’d shatter if he asked too directly. But the second the words left his mouth, my whole body went stiff.

Oh. Shit.

I had forgotten about that. It had completely slipped my mind, buried under everything else—school, home, him . And now, suddenly, it was dragged back into the light, ugly and undeniable.

“Oh… uh… um… I-I—” I stammered, sounding like an absolute idiot . My hands instinctively balled into fists on my lap, my nails pressing into my palms.

Nick didn’t say anything right away, just waited, giving me space to untangle the mess in my head. But I could feel his eyes on me, warm and patient, and that somehow made it worse.

“I… I wasn’t even gonna take them,” I finally blurted out, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. “I just… had them. Just in case.”

Nick exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. “Just in case of what?”

I swallowed, my throat dry as hell. “I don’t know,” I admitted. Lied.

Nick let that sit for a moment before reaching over and gently taking my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” His voice was quiet, sincere. “I’m not gonna freak out. I just… I don’t want you dealing with stuff like that alone.”

I let out a shaky breath, forcing a weak smile. “I know, Nick. I know.”

And I did. But knowing and believing were two very different things.

But then, because the universe hates letting me have a serious moment, the door swung open, and in stepped the disaster couple themselves—my cousin Doll and her blonde menace of a girlfriend, Lizzy.

Now, Lizzy’s still been crashing with us for a while, sleeping on an air mattress in my room, and honestly? She looks way better than when Doll first found her after she got booted from her twin brother’s place. But she’s still got that exhausted, vaguely pissed-off energy that she always carries.

Without a word, Lizzy shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, then practically threw herself onto the recliner next to the couch like her soul had finally given up. Meanwhile, Doll set down a bag full of… clothes?

“You two raid a Goodwill?” I asked, grateful for the sudden shift in attention. Nick’s focus was off the Xanax… the ones I definitely didn’t take a few minutes after I bought them.

“Lizzy needed new clothes.” Doll replied, her voice curt but polite as always. Lizzy, on the other hand, groaned dramatically and sank deeper into the chair, like it might swallow her whole.

“I told you, Doll, you don’t need to spend your whole paycheck on me…”

Before Lizzy could protest further, Doll silenced her in the most Doll way possible—by grabbing her by the collar and planting a quick peck on her lips.

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. Damnit. Why do I suddenly want Nick to kiss me now— HEY ! Get your mind out of the gutter, Uzi!

Nick must’ve noticed my internal freak-out, because when I snuck a glance at him, he was looking at me with an amused little smirk.

“You okay over there?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“I will be if you shut up,” I muttered, face burning.

He just chuckled, throwing an arm lazily over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against my shoulder. Not quite a touch, but enough to make my brain short-circuit.

Damn it. This is so unfair.

“Why don’t you shut her up with a kiss?” Doll snickered, her Russian accent making her sound even more smug than usual. Sometimes, I really hate her.

Nick, who had been perfectly fine a second ago, went beet red at the suggestion—just like me.

“OK! Doll, really ?” he spluttered, shooting her a look that was half glare and half I’ll do it later, just to spite you .

Doll just smirked, arms crossed like she’d already won. Lizzy, meanwhile, snickered from the recliner, not even trying to hide her amusement.

“Honestly? I’m with Doll on this one,” Lizzy said, tossing a lazy glance our way. “Uzi, you’ve been eyeing Nick like he’s the last energy drink on Earth, and Nick? You’re not subtle either.”

I wanted to protest, to deny, to call Lizzy a delusional blonde disaster, but Nick made the mistake of looking at me right then—and the way his face was still flushed, the way his eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips for just a second too long—yeah. My brain blue-screened .

Doll cackled . “Look at ‘em. They’re short-circuitin’.”

“Shut up ,” I groaned, covering my face with both hands, but I wasn’t fast enough to miss the way Nick rubbed the back of his neck, looking so painfully embarrassed.

Damn it, this night was supposed to be chill . Now I’m thinking about kissing my boyfriend, and the worst part? I kinda want to.

“Wh-why don’t you kiss her then?!” I shot back, pointing at Lizzy, fully expecting her to panic and shut up.

But instead, she froze, blinking at Doll like a deer in headlights.

Doll smirked. Oh no .

“Bet,” she purred, her voice dropping into that smug, confident tone that always meant chaos was about to unfold.

Before I could regret everything, she sauntered over to Lizzy, grabbed the blonde by the collar, and went for it —a full-on, no-holds-barred, soul-stealing French kiss .

I practically gagged , immediately looking down at my boots to salvage whatever dignity I had left.

Nick made some kind of strangled noise next to me, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or die.

By the time Doll finally let go , Lizzy looked wrecked —like Doll had just kissed the actual soul from her body. She swayed slightly, blinking up at her girlfriend like she wasn’t entirely sure what year it was.

Doll, the absolute menace that she was, just wiped her mouth and looked back at me with a triumphant smirk.

“Your move, Uzi,” she teased.

Oh. Oh, hell no.

“Fuck you…” I mumbled, immediately realizing my mistake.

Doll’s smirk widened like a cat that just cornered a particularly dumb mouse.

“That’s what Nick is gonna do to you one of these days,” she snickered, plopping herself onto the arm of the recliner Lizzy was still slumped in—recovering from what could only be described as a soul extraction via lips.

I froze . My brain short-circuited . Nick choked on his own spit.

“I walked right into that one,” I admitted, face going beet red as my mind immediately took a deep, irreversible plunge into the gutter.

Nick let out a weak wheeze next to me. “Doll, why —”

“Nope! No thoughts! Head empty!” I interrupted way too loudly, clapping my hands over my ears as if that would stop the entire scenario from playing on loop in my brain.

Doll just laughed, clearly thriving in my misery. “You’re makin’ it way too easy, Uzi.”

Lizzy, finally resurfacing from her daze, groaned and buried her face in a throw pillow. “I hate when you get like this,” she mumbled at Doll.

“ You love when I get like this.”

“Shut up. ”

Nick, still red as hell, leaned in and whispered, “Do you want me to, like…change the subject?”

“Yes. Immediately. Please.”

“How do you want me to do that?” Nick asked, his voice low but full of curiosity.

“Anything…” I mumbled, not really thinking about what I was saying. But instead of letting the awkward moment linger, Nick just scooped me up in his arms, holding me bridal style like I was something precious. My heart skipped a beat as he effortlessly carried me toward my room.

Behind us, Doll couldn’t resist making one last jab.

“Keep it PG-13 in there, you two!” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. And of course, she had to take it a step further, slipping into Russian for good measure. “Если вы собираетесь трахаться, пожалуйста, потише!”

I froze for a second, trying to decipher the words, but nothing good came to mind. Whatever it was, I didn’t really want to know. My face turned beet red as I buried my face into Nick's shoulder, feeling mortified by the fact that my cousin had probably just made an awkward situation way worse.

“Doll, seriously?” I mumbled, but Nick just laughed softly, gently lowering me onto the bed.

And, damn, I was still thinking about what she said.

Nick hooked a finger under my chin and gently tilted my face up, the move so simple yet so effective. My heart skipped a beat, and I swear I turned as red as a goddamn lobster. I hated how easily Nick could fluster me.

“Wanna kiss, Zi?” he asked, the stupid nickname making my heart stutter again. I opened my mouth, then closed it, like a fish gasping for air. I was speechless. My brain short-circuited, and I couldn't even manage to nod. The words were stuck in my throat, trapped by a mix of nerves and the undeniable pull I felt toward him.

Nick just snickered, that familiar mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, leaning in, and before I could even react, his lips were on mine.

His lips were warm and soft, and for a second, I completely forgot about everything else. All the awkwardness, all the uncertainty—it all faded away, leaving just the feeling of Nick's presence. My heart raced in my chest, almost as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to leap out or freeze in place.

He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, a teasing grin still lingering on his lips. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low, like he could sense the way my thoughts were spinning a million miles a minute.

I could barely form words. All I could manage was a breathless nod, my face still hot. "Yeah, just—just... surprised."

Nick chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Good. 'Cause I don't mind surprising you every once in a while."

I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling too much, still caught in the haze of what just happened. My brain felt like it was swimming, but there was this weird, comforting calm settling in at the same time.

Chapter Text

Nori here, once again. I'm crashing on my little sister’s couch, the one that smells like a goddamn litter box because, surprise, she owns like fifteen fucking cats. How does she even afford to feed all these furballs on a teacher’s salary? I could barely afford a decent meal on my own, and she’s managing this furry circus like it’s a walk in the park. But whatever. Not the point.

The point is, I’m alive and hiding out in her cat-infested hellhole, and the only two assholes who know I’m still breathing are my little sister and my nephew. Which, frankly, is a godsend, considering the kind of shitshow Absey and her gang of dipshits could bring if they found out I’m here.

I’ll be damned if I let those assholes ruin what little peace I’ve managed to claw out of this messed-up life. Keeping my head down, staying low, and hoping they don’t come knocking. But god, if they do, they’re in for a fucking ride.

Alice, in all her infinite wisdom, was balancing on the arm of a recliner like a damn circus act, trying to keep the damn cats away from her leftover food from the truck stop. Seriously, who the hell lets this many cats roam free in their house? And yeah, she made me leave my Glock in my car. That’s a whole lot of bullshit right there. How the hell am I supposed to cap a motherfucker that comes poking around if my piece’s sitting in my damn car? Ridiculous.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Alice mused, her eyes narrowed as she shooed another cat away from her plate like she was fighting off a goddamn army. “I ain’t given’ you a reason.”

You little southern shit-faced bitch. It was like she could read my mind, and that just made me want to hurl my whiskey bottle at her. So, instead of replying with the venom I was holding back, I just leaned back into the couch, glaring at her.

“You ain’t got a reason, Alice,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “But if you think I’m gonna sit here without my damn gun, you’ve got another thing coming.”

She just raised an eyebrow at me, as if she didn’t give a single shit. And yeah, that pissed me off even more. That calm, collected, ‘I’m-always-right’ look she always wore drove me insane.

"You're safe here, Nori," she said, her voice as calm as ever. "Ain't nobody comin' for you while you're in my house. Just relax."

Relax? Yeah, sure. Tell me to relax while I’m stuck in a cat-infested hellhole, unable to even have my gun close by. Relax my ass.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, though I knew better than to argue. Alice had a way of making you feel like you were out of line even when you were the one in the right. And god, it was infuriating.

Another cat jumped up on the recliner, nudging at her plate, and Alice swatted it away with the flat of her hand. "Jesus, I swear these damn things are worse than Beau on a sugar high."

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. "Yeah, but at least Beau doesn’t try to eat my damn dinner."

I pushed myself up off the couch, ignoring the chorus of meows from the little freeloaders scattered around Alice’s place. I couldn’t just sit here. I’m... fuck. Am I really gonna do this? Guess I fucking am.

I snatched my keys off the cluttered coffee table and made a beeline for the door, ignoring Alice’s knowing look as she chewed on whatever sad excuse for a meal she was protecting from her feline army. The second I stepped outside, the cold air hit me like a slap to the face, but I didn’t stop.

I was headed to Khan’s. My husband.

God, he’s gonna flip.

I could already picture the look on his face, the way he’d stiffen, how his voice would probably shake between anger and disbelief. And me? I’d probably be a fucking mess, barely keeping it together like always. I never did know how to break shit to him gently.

The drive was a blur, my fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary as my mind spun in a hundred directions. What the hell was I even gonna say? "Hey babe, long time no see, sorry I let you think I was dead?" Yeah, that'd go over real well.

By the time I pulled up to the house, my stomach was twisted in knots. The lights were still on. He was home. No turning back now.

I killed the engine, taking one last deep breath before stepping out. My heart hammered against my ribs as I made my way up the front steps, each one feeling heavier than the last.

Then, before I could overthink it anymore, I knocked.

But the person who opened the door wasn’t Khan or Uzi. It was Lisa Socialman’s kid, Lizzy.

“Uh, hello?” she said, staring at me like I was some creep who just wandered up off the street. Which, to be fair, I kinda was.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying not to look as fucking awkward as I felt. “Hey… is Khan Doorman here?”

Lizzy blinked at me, clearly debating whether she should answer or slam the door in my face. But before she could say anything, another figure moved into view.

Doll.

Her eyes went wide, and then, in true Petrov fashion, she immediately went off in Russian, spewing accusations about me being a stalker, a psycho, and all sorts of other bullshit.

Yeah, fuck you too, Petrov. I know Russian.

“Oh yeah, totally stalking my own husband. Real scandalous shit,” I shot back in her language, crossing my arms. “Gonna call the cops on me, sweetheart? 'Cause I’d love to see how that plays out.”

Doll narrowed her eyes, but before she could fire back, Lizzy—bless her clueless little heart—turned to her, confused. “Wait, you know her?”

Doll scoffed, still glaring at me like she was trying to set me on fire with her mind. “Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid,” I muttered before looking past them into the house. “Now, are you gonna let me in, or do I have to make a scene?”

"Why the fuck would I let you in?" Lizzy asked, waving Doll off like she had this under control.

I stared at her for a moment, already feeling a headache coming on. With a sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I’m Nori Doorman. Khan is my husband, you blonde hoe."

Yeah… probably shouldn’t have said that last part.

Lizzy blinked, processing that for a second before her expression twisted into pure offense. "Excuse me, bitch?!"

Doll, meanwhile, just about choked on her own laughter. "Oh, I like you," she snickered, but the smug amusement in her voice told me she wasn’t about to let me off easy. "Shame you're full of shit. Khan’s wife is dead."

I leveled her with a flat look. "Yeah? And yet, here I am. Breathing. Standing. Very much not in a fucking grave." I gestured to myself for emphasis. "Spooky, huh?"

Lizzy crossed her arms, still not convinced. "You got any proof, 'ghost lady'?"

I rolled my eyes and fished into my jacket pocket, pulling out my old, worn-down wallet. Flipping it open, I shoved my ID in her face. "There. Read it and weep, Socialman."

Lizzy snatched the ID, squinting at it, and her face went from skeptical to something between oh shit and I’ve made a terrible mistake. Doll, still grinning like an asshole, peeked over her shoulder to see for herself.

“Well, well,” Doll mused, crossing her arms. “Ain’t this a fucking surprise.”

“Yeah, yeah, huge shocker. Now, are you gonna let me in, or do I have to break in like old times?"

"Nice to see you again, Aunty," Doll snickered, sweeping Lizzy off her feet like some goddamn fairytale prince.

Oh my god. My niece was a lesbian. Good for her.

"Wait, that bitch is actually Nori ?!" Lizzy squeaked, clinging onto Doll like she was bracing for impact.

"Yep," Doll confirmed, grinning like the little shit she was as she adjusted her grip, carrying Lizzy princess-style with zero struggle. Jesus, is this kid made of pure muscle?

Lizzy, meanwhile, looked between me and Doll, her face twisting like she was trying to work through a very complicated math problem. "So you’re telling me the ‘dead wife’ Khan never shuts up about just waltzed up to the front door?"

"Sure looks like it," Doll said, her smirk growing as Lizzy's brain short-circuited.

"Okay, what the actual fuck —"

"Language," I cut in, mostly just to be a hypocrite.

Lizzy shot me a you’re not my mom glare before throwing her hands up in exasperation—well, as much as she could while being cradled like a goddamn Disney princess. "Khan’s gonna lose his shit! "

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "So, are we gonna stand out here all night, or is someone gonna let me in before the neighbors start getting nosy?"

Doll exchanged a glance with Lizzy, who still looked like she was buffering, before shrugging. "Eh, why not? This night was gettin’ boring anyway."

And just like that, I was finally stepping through the front door of my own damn house.

No sooner do I step inside than I see this blonde, scrawny-looking shithead come down the stairs— from Uzi’s room.

Oh, hell no.

So this is that Nick guy Alice warned me about. Fucking fantastic.

He blinked at me, then looked to Doll—who, by the way, was still holding Lizzy like some fairytale princess. Honestly, it was kinda comical.

"Doll, who’s this?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

Doll, that smug little shit, just grinned wider, her Russian accent somehow making her sound even more like the queen of shitty comebacks.

"This," she purred, her smirk practically radiating fuckery , "is your future mother-in-law. "

Oh, fuck you , Petrov.

Nick went stiff like he’d just been told he had five minutes to live. His face drained of all color, then went beet red all at once, and he made a sound I could only describe as a dying fish gasping for air.

" What?! "

I folded my arms and leveled him with a stare that I hoped screamed I will ruin your entire existence if you so much as breathe wrong around my daughter.

"You got real cozy real fast, huh, Blondie?" I drawled, tilting my head. "Tell me, how long you been shacking up in my daughter’s room?"

Nick, now somehow even more red, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "I—we—it’s not like that!"

" Mhm. " I squinted at him, letting the silence stretch just long enough to watch him sweat. "We’ll see about that."

Doll, meanwhile, was wheezing, clearly living for the chaos. "Oh, this is so much better than I imagined."

"Shut up , Petrov," Nick hissed.

But it was too late. My night had officially gotten very interesting.

Doll finally composed herself just enough to get a sentence out between her wheezing laughter.

"He and Uzi haven’t fucked yet, if that’s what you’re wondering, Aunty."

Nick looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Hell, maybe even die at this point.

" DOLL! " he screeched, his voice cracking so hard I thought his soul might just evacuate his body.

Doll, the absolute menace , finally set Lizzy down— only so she could double over, cackling like a hyena. Lizzy, bless her heart, looked like she was debating whether to laugh along or leave the damn house entirely.

Meanwhile, I just rubbed my temples. " Jesus Christ, Petrov ," I muttered. "I don’t need a play-by-play of my daughter’s nonexistent sex life."

Doll just shrugged, wiping a fake tear from her eye. "Just clearing the air, Aunty. Wouldn’t want you murdering poor Nicky over something that hasn’t even happened yet."

Nick, now resembling a dying tomato, let out a strangled noise and buried his face in his hands. "I hate it here."

"Good," I deadpanned. "You should."

“What the fuck is going on down here… who the fuck is that!?” snapped a brooding, totally-not-depressed teenager from the top of the stairs.

I looked up, and my goddamn heart just plummeted into my stomach.

It was Uzi.

Oh fuck .

And, thank the ever-loving stars , she’d missed me casually roasting the shit out of her boyfriend with the help of her delightfully evil cousin.

Nick still looked like he was experiencing the worst day of his life . Lizzy had the expression of someone who just wanted some damn Pop-Tarts and got dragged into a sitcom instead. And Doll , that little menace , had the most obnoxious expression plastered across her face—like a goddamn cat face emoticon come to life. If smug could be weaponized, she’d be a WMD .

“Uzi, your mom’s back,” Lizzy deadpanned before immediately burying her face in her hands like she physically could not handle this level of family dysfunction.

Uzi, meanwhile, just stared at me.

Like I was Satan himself , standing in her house, personally coming to collect her soul.

Uzi didn’t say a word. She just stood there, gripping the railing so tight I thought she was gonna snap it off. Her eyes flickered between me, Nick, and Doll—who was barely holding back a cackle—and I swear I could feel the raw, unfiltered betrayal radiating off her.

I raised a hand, trying for the world’s most awkward wave. “Uh… hey, kiddo.”

Silence.

Then—

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Welp. There it was.

“Yeah, I figured that’d be the first thing outta your mouth,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “You, uh… got tall.”

“I got tall ?” she repeated, voice dripping with disbelief. “You— you died ! And now you’re just—” she gestured at me wildly, “— here ?! In my house?!”

“Well, technically, I paid for half of—”

“Do not ,” she hissed, and I promptly shut the fuck up.

Nick, bless his dumb little heart, tried to be the voice of reason. “Uzi, maybe we should all—”

“ Not now, Nickolas. ”

Nick immediately shrank back, looking very interested in a speck of dust on the floor.

Doll, however, was absolutely loving this. She leaned against Lizzy, who was still hiding in her hands, and stage-whispered, “Damn, family reunions are wild.”

“Shut up , Petrov,” Uzi and I snapped at the same time.

Doll just snickered.

“Listen…Uzi—”

“Shut the fuck up!” She snapped, cutting me off before I could even get a single word out. Honestly, I deserved it and more. “You don’t get to just show back up and think I’m gonna be happy!”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, but I took them without flinching, even if my insides were screaming. Uzi was right. What the hell did I think was going to happen? A tearful reunion? A happy family moment? Fuck no.

Without warning, she dug her hand into her pockets and pulled out a pill bottle and a pack of cigarettes. Then, she launched them straight at my chest. They hit with a dull thud and fell to the floor like I wasn’t even worth aiming at. I didn’t react. I just stood there, my fingers twitching at my sides.

But Doll, who’d been smirking like this was all just a bad joke, finally lost her shit-eating grin. She blinked, her eyes shifting from Uzi to me, and the shift in her demeanor was immediate. She’d finally caught on to the gravity of the situation. Uzi was no longer just pissed off—she was hurting. And now, Doll knew it wasn’t a game anymore.

“You… You gonna be okay?” Nick’s voice, soft but uncertain, cut through the tension, but it was clear he wasn’t sure if this was his moment to step in or not. His gaze flicked between Uzi and me, but he didn’t move.

Uzi didn’t even acknowledge him. She just stood there, eyes wild, chest heaving with every breath, and I could see the wall she’d built up over the years starting to crack. “You think you can just leave me in the dust for years and waltz back in like nothing happened? Like I’m some fucking doormat you can stomp on when it’s convenient?”

The words stung more than I thought they would. Fuck. She had every right to say them. Every right to scream at me. But still, something in me clenched, and I found my voice for the first time since I showed up.

“I didn’t leave you—”

“You fucking did!” Uzi cut me off again, her hands shaking, her anger radiating like heat off a fire. “You just—vanished. No goodbyes, no warning. Just gone. And now you show up like I’m supposed to be glad?”

Her breath hitched, and for a split second, I saw something in her eyes that made me freeze. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was something much worse. Hurt. Desperation. But it was gone as fast as it came, replaced by that icy glare.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What the hell could I say to that?

Doll’s face twisted into something unreadable, the laughter drained from her eyes. Lizzy, who had been standing quietly by the doorway, finally stepped forward and placed a hand on Uzi’s shoulder. “Okay, enough. You’re scaring everyone. Let’s just… calm down for a second.”

Uzi jerked away from her touch like it was a live wire. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Lizzy!”

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. Whatever this was, I had to face it. Whatever Uzi needed me to be, I was going to have to try and be that—whether she liked it or not.

Doll’s gaze remained locked on the pill bottle and cigarettes scattered at my feet. I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she processed the weight of the situation. The humor drained from her face, and for once, the Russian menace wasn’t trying to get in a jab. She was quiet, something I wasn’t used to. That was what snapped her out of whatever nonsense she’d been caught up in. She wasn’t going to let me face this alone—not after what she just witnessed.

Nick stood frozen, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he was trying to figure out the safest course of action. I could tell he wanted to help, but Uzi’s fury was a live wire. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk getting his back snapped like a twig just to be a white knight.

Lizzy, who had been trying to keep a low profile, retreated to Doll’s side, like she was choosing safety over stepping in. I couldn’t blame her. Everyone was watching me, but I wasn’t sure what the hell I was supposed to do either.

And then, without a word, Uzi made a move. She bolted for her room, the door slamming behind her with a finality that punched me in the gut. I didn’t follow, didn’t even move. What the hell could I say to make it right? What words could fix this? Hell, could anything fix it?

I just stood there. Frozen. And I hated myself for it.

“Uh, who the hell are you?” Oh, perfect. Khan’s dumb, stupid, yet comforting voice hit me from behind. I turned around, and there he was—exactly how I remembered. The mustache I used to tease him about, that borderline bowl cut hair that somehow suited him, his construction hat sitting low over his brow, and those red goggles that made him look like a dorky superhero. Add in the faded uniform, and it was like nothing had changed.

But right now? None of it helped. Not a damn bit.

“Hey, babe... I’m back,” I said sheepishly, my voice sounding like I was apologizing before I even got the chance to explain.

Khan just stood there for a moment, his usual relaxed stance suddenly stiff. His eyes flickered from me to the door, then back at me again. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not unkind, and pulled me onto the front porch. He shut the door behind us with a soft thud, blocking out whatever chaos was happening inside.

For a moment, we stood there in silence. Khan’s hand still wrapped around my arm, his thumb brushing over my skin like he was trying to convince himself I was really here.

“What the hell, Nori?” His voice was low, a mix of confusion, anger, and something else I couldn’t place.

I couldn’t find the words. What was I supposed to say? "Sorry I ghosted for so long" seemed like such a hollow start. "Sorry for everything" felt even worse. It wasn't enough, and I knew it.

“I can’t…I don’t…I don’t know what to tell you, okay?” I stammered out, but it wasn’t what Khan wanted to hear.

“Start with the truth,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a certain weight to it that made it feel like the world was suddenly too small for both of us. How the hell does he manage to never swear while I curse like a fucking sailor?

I rubbed my face, trying to gather the right words, but it all felt jumbled. “It’s complicated…”

“Uncomplicate it,” he said, his gaze locking with mine. Christ. How the hell does he manage to be scary yet sexy as fuck at the same time?

My throat went dry. I wasn’t used to this. Khan always had this way of cutting through my bullshit, of getting me to face the things I tried to avoid, but it was never easy. I could feel the weight of everything I’d been running from pressing down on me, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure I could hide from it.

“Some... people from my past... made me fake my death and shit... made me run away from you... or else they would’ve hurt you and Uzi,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, but it still felt like I’d just yelled it into the void. The weight of the truth crushed me as it spilled out.

Khan was silent for a moment, his gaze sharp as ever, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Then he asked, his voice tight, “And is Yeva dead?”

Fuck.

I swallowed hard, the words feeling like they were clawing their way up my throat. “Absey... the person I used to run with and made me do all this... killed her.” I let the words hang in the air, thick and heavy.

Khan's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker in his eyes—anger, maybe sorrow. But he didn't say anything for a long while. Instead, he just kept staring at me, like he was trying to figure out whether this was the truth or if I was still playing some kind of fucked-up game.

And honestly? I wasn’t sure either.

Then he pulled me into a hug, tightly, as if he thought I might just disappear if he let go. I could feel his grip tightening, like he was afraid to lose me again, and I couldn’t blame him. I hugged him back just as hard, my fingers digging into his shirt, because if I didn’t hold on this tightly, I might just fade into the nothingness I’d been hiding in for so long.

For a moment, it felt like time stopped—like nothing else mattered but the two of us, the tension and fear melting into the warmth of his embrace. But the reality settled in quickly, sharp and cold, as I realized that no matter how tight we held each other, things were never going to be simple again.

I was terrified. Not of him, not of Uzi or anyone else. I was terrified of everything I’d left behind, of the mess I’d made. Of the fact that I might lose them all again, even if I never let go.

Chapter Text

Jessica Marie Elliot—CEO, workaholic, and, apparently, the only person in this damn city who can get five minutes of peace—until now.

Right now, I’m sitting behind my desk at nearly eleven at night, nursing a cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. My assistant, Maxine, is darting around the office, attempting to tackle the mountain of paperwork that, despite our best efforts, never seems to shrink.

And, of course, as it always is, I can’t be left alone.

My phone buzzes. A call. Nick.

What the hell has my little brother gotten himself into this time?

I sigh, setting down my mug and swiping to accept. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jess, can you come pick me up?” Nick sounds off—like he’s either in trouble or just witnessed something that broke his brain. “I’m at Uzi’s place, and… it’s complicated.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s always complicated with him. “I’ll be there in five.” I shoot Maxine a look, and she immediately sighs, already knowing the drill. Pick up my slack—again.

As I grab my keys and make my way to the door, I decide I at least deserve some kind of warning before I walk into whatever fresh disaster Nick’s stumbled into. “And what happened? Just simplify it, please.”

Nick hesitates. “Uh… Uzi’s mom isn’t dead?”

I stop dead in my tracks.

The fuck did he just say?

Normally, I’m not one to curse. But this?

“The fuck did you just say!?”

I could hear Nick fumbling for words on the other end of the line, just as flabbergasted as I was.

“She just showed up, and Uzi lost it, okay?!” He sounded panicked, like he wasn’t sure whether he should be explaining or bracing for impact.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. “Yell at me like that again, and you’re walking home.” My tone was firm, and it shut him up instantly. Good. I was already running on fumes, and now I had to deal with this?

Right now, I needed either a therapist or a shot of tequila. Preferably both.

I grabbed my coat and keys, downed the last of my now-lukewarm coffee, and made a beeline for the door. Maxine barely looked up from her work, already used to my life being a constant stream of bullshit.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, flipping through a stack of papers.

“Nope,” I said, shoving my arms into my coat. “Cover for me. Again.”

“Obviously,” she deadpanned. “Try not to kill your brother.”

“No promises.”

With that, I was out the door, my heels clicking against the pavement as I made my way to my car. The whole drive over, my mind raced. Nori Doorman. Alive. That woman had been dead for years. It wasn’t just some rumor or urban legend—there was a goddamn funeral.

And now, apparently, she’d just strolled in like she hadn’t faked her own death and wrecked her family’s lives in the process?

I gripped the wheel tighter.

Nick better have a good reason for dragging me into this.

But when I pulled up to Khan’s front door, there she was—curled into her husband’s arms like a lost child. Jesus Christ.

Nori Doorman. The woman who was supposed to be dead. The woman I used to make miserable in high school, back when I was a snobby little shit who thought everyone else’s problems were entertainment. And now here she was, crying into her husband’s shoulder like the last ten years hadn’t been a complete mess.

This was going to be awkward.

Khan was the first to notice me. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on Nori tightened slightly. I decided to get the pleasantries out of the way.

“Hello, Nori,” I said evenly, hands in my pockets. “I’m here to pick up my younger brother, Nick.”

She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge me—just stayed buried in Khan’s shoulder, her body trembling slightly. Alright then. I stepped past them and into the house, leaving them to whatever melodrama was unfolding outside.

Inside, it was about what I expected.

Doll was slouched on the couch, legs spread, a pack of cigarettes in one hand and half a bottle of Xanax in the other. Lizzy was sitting beside her, looking somewhere between concerned and incredibly entertained. Nick, my idiot brother, was peering over the railing at the top of the stairs like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.

“Nickolas,” I said firmly.

He flinched and scurried down the steps, not even arguing. That was rare. He must have really wanted out of here.

Doll finally acknowledged me, lifting the cigarette pack in greeting. “Jessica. You just missed Uzi’s emotional breakdown.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Nick, let’s go.”

As I turned to leave, Doll snorted. “Tell your brother to grow a backbone while you’re at it.”

“Tell your cousin to take a breath before she throws herself off a roof,” I shot back.

Doll just nodded as she threw the cigarettes and Xanax into a nearby trash can.

Nick and I stepped outside, and I immediately regretted it. Khan was still holding Nori, murmuring something to her as she clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Nick cleared his throat. “Sooo… Jess, how mad are you?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I need a drink.

“Shut your mouth Nick. We’re going home, then I’m gonna have a drink or two, got it?” I said harshly, probably way too harsh. But at this moment I just needed to get out of there.

The drive was silent. Nick knew better than to push his luck, and I was too busy mentally filing this night under Bullshit I Didn’t Sign Up For.

By the time we pulled up to the house, I could already hear the chaos inside.

Vicky was screaming at Tessa about something—probably something stupid—while Cyn had the TV cranked up to blaring levels, completely unbothered as she mashed buttons on her Switch. Judging by the music, she was in the middle of a boss fight in The Legend of Zelda.

I pushed the door open and didn’t bother stepping inside before I snapped.

“Everyone, quiet. I am not in the mood for your shit tonight.”

Silence.

Cyn instantly muted the TV. Tessa and Vicky shut up mid-argument. Hell, even Nick flinched.

Yeah. They’d never heard me curse unless I was properly livid. And right now? I absolutely was.

Vicky, bless her soul, was the first to break the silence. “Uh… Jess? You good?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “No. I am not good. I just found out my high school rival is alive, my brother somehow got involved in it, and I need either a therapist or a strong drink before I lose my mind.”

Cyn blinked. “What’s a rival?”

Tessa muttered, “It’s like a mean friend.”

Vicky crossed her arms. “Didn’t you hate that chick? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that she’s been dead for years, Vicky.” I tossed my keys on the counter. “Except, surprise! She’s not.”

Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, um… Uzi’s mom’s back.”

Cyn’s eyes widened. “Uzi has a mom?”

Vicky groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

I exhaled sharply, massaging my temples. I need a drink.

Vicky flopped onto the couch, rubbing her face like this entire conversation was giving her a migraine. “Alright, hold up—back it up. You’re telling me Uzi’s mom faked her death or some shit? That’s a thing now?”

“She didn’t fake it,” Nick muttered, kicking off his shoes. “Some people made her fake it.”

“Oh yeah, totally normal,” Vicky said flatly, gesturing wildly. “Just your average Tuesday night. ‘Hey guys, remember that time we found out someone’s been secretly alive for years? Haha, classic!’”

Cyn tilted her head. “Wait, so does this mean Uzi’s mom is, like… a zombie?”

Tessa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Cyn. She’s not a zombie.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered, dropping into the nearest chair. “Jesus Christ, what a night.”

Cyn unmuted the TV and immediately turned to Nick, her expression dead serious. “Okay. But is Uzi’s mom cool?”

Nick hesitated. “Uh…” He glanced at me, as if I had the answer to that.

I threw my hands up. “Hell if I know.”

“Good enough for me,” Cyn said, turning back to her game.

Vicky groaned again. “So, what? Are we just ignoring this? Like, ‘oh wow, crazy night, let’s all move on like nothing happened’?”

“Vicky,” I deadpanned. “That is exactly what we’re going to do. Because if I try to process this right now, I will have a stroke.”

Tessa shrugged. “Honestly, fair.”

I just sat there for a while, watching Cyn play The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild—I think that’s what it’s called. Honestly, she’s more retro than I am. Most twelve-year-olds would be glued to an iPad or buried in a pile of makeup products. Not Cyn. She’d rather boot up a GameCube or an N64, rattling off trivia about games that came out before she was even born. Even when she plays modern consoles, she sticks to classics or games from the few old-school companies that managed to survive.

She was focused, barely blinking as she maneuvered Link across some mountain terrain, completely ignoring the chaos from earlier like it had never even happened.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You ever play anything new, or are you just an old man trapped in a kid’s body?”

Cyn smirked but didn’t look away from the screen. “Nah, new games are boring. Too much hand-holding, not enough fun.”

Vicky snorted. “Says the kid who spent three hours trying to beat Contra and refused to use the Konami code.”

Cyn scowled. “That’s cheating.”

“Right, and dying twenty-five times on the same level is just a learning experience?”

“Exactly.”

Nick, who had been staring blankly at the floor, finally groaned. “I don’t even care about games right now. My brain still hasn’t processed the whole ‘Uzi’s mom isn’t dead’ thing.”

Cyn paused the game and glanced at him. “So? You’re alive. She’s alive. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Nick let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, okay. Totally normal. Just another day in our completely not insane lives.”

I sighed. “Nick, do me a favor and go to bed before you have an existential crisis on my couch.”

He grumbled something under his breath but pushed himself up, trudging toward the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Cyn unpaused her game. “So… are we taking bets on how long it takes Uzi to forgive her mom, or is that too mean?”

Vicky grinned. “Oh, we’re absolutely taking bets.”

“You’re all vultures…” I muttered, forcing myself to my feet. I shuffled into the kitchen, yanked open the liquor cabinet above the fridge, and grabbed the only bottle in there—champagne. Not exactly my first choice, but desperate times and all that.

I poured myself a glass, took a slow sip, then sank back into my chair in the living room.

Of course, Vicky had to comment. She never let anything slide.

“Oh shit, Jess got the booze!” she cackled.

“Victoria,” I said sharply, giving her a look that could’ve frozen fire. That finally shut her up.

For a moment, there was silence. A rare and precious thing in this house.

Cyn, still lounging on the couch, kicked her legs up. “Sooooo… is this, like, a drinking because life sucks moment? Or a drinking because we’re celebrating the return of the undead moment?”

I took another sip, debating whether I even wanted to dignify that with a response. “It’s a drinking because I need a damn break moment.”

Nick, from the hallway, poked his head back in. “If you’re drinking, can I—”

“No.”

He groaned. “You didn’t even let me—”

“No.”

Vicky snickered. “Damn, shot down before he even got the question out.”

Cyn nodded sagely. “Ruthless.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “If anyone else speaks, I swear I’m bringing out the real liquor.”

Vicky grinned. “You mean the stuff you keep in the locked cabinet?”

“Exactly.”

“…You say that like it’s a threat.”

I glared at her. She shut up.

Yeah. This was going to be a long night.

So I spent the next two hours watching Cyn play Breath of the Wild while I nursed my drink. The soft glow of the TV was the only real light in the room, casting shifting shadows as Cyn guided Link through Hyrule like it was second nature.

Now, I’m not a heavy drinker—at least, not like Dad was before he died. But I do drink sometimes. A cup every few hours, just enough to take the edge off. Never enough to get sloppy, never enough to do anything stupid. If I ever got wasted enough to make a fool of myself? I think I’d die of secondhand embarrassment from my own actions.

Cyn didn’t say much, but I could tell she was keeping an eye on me in her own quiet way. Every so often, between slashing up Bokoblins or climbing some impossible cliffside, she’d glance over—just a flicker of her eyes before she went back to her game. I didn’t acknowledge it. I didn’t really want to.

The house was calm for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.

I mean, it was hard to stay calm when all my younger siblings were in therapy for one reason or another—Cyn especially, considering her teacher is a goddamn pedophile. I swear on the River Styx, if he ever so much as breathes wrong in her direction, I’ll make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his miserable life.

But for once, the house was quiet. Tessa, to my surprise, wasn’t butting heads with Vicky like usual. That alone felt like a sign of the apocalypse. Actually, speaking of Tessa, I still can’t wrap my head around how much she’s done at her age. She’s only fifteen, but she’s already a junior in high school. Her grades were just that good. Hell, if she keeps this up, she’ll probably be in college before she even hits eighteen.

I took another sip of my drink and sighed, staring at the ceiling. At least one of us had a bright future.

I’ve been running the company since I was nineteen. Cyn has had to live with that nasty face scar ever since she was six. And Jesus Christ, I remember that night like it was yesterday.

Mom and Dad were in the middle of another drunken screaming match. Their fights had become so routine by then that Nick and I didn’t even flinch anymore. We were outside, trying to set up Halloween decorations like nothing was wrong—like we weren’t living in a goddamn war zone. I was up on the roof, carefully securing fake cobwebs and plastic bats, while Nick was below, handing things up to me.

But then I noticed something—smoke. It was curling out of the chimney, thick and dark. My stomach twisted. Mom and Dad never lit the fireplace.

“Hold on,” I told Nick before making my way across the roof, my heart thudding harder with every step. I leaned over and peered down into the chimney.

And what I saw made my blood run cold.

Flames. Bright, angry, orange flames, clawing their way up like they were trying to escape.

The heat slammed into me like a goddamn punch to the face, and the thick smoke made my eyes sting and water instantly. I barely had time to process what I was seeing before my foot slipped on the shingles.

I lost my balance.

The fall was a blur—gravity yanked me down before I could even think to grab onto something. Next thing I knew, I was crashing through one of the decorations below. Only, it wasn’t just some cheap plastic prop. It was one of those spiked metal fences we’d set up in the front yard. And one of those spikes? It went straight through my thigh.

Pain shot through me, white-hot and all-consuming, but I grit my teeth and fought past it. There wasn’t time to focus on that.

“Nick!” I gasped, my voice raw from the smoke. “Call the fire department—get Tessa, Vicky, and Cyn out of the house! Now!”

I don’t know how I managed to keep my voice steady, but somehow, he listened. He took off running, and I lay there, blood seeping into my jeans, trying not to pass out. By the time Nick came back, dragging the girls with him, the paramedics had already arrived.

And that’s when I saw Cyn.

Her face was smeared with soot, her small frame shaking as she clung to Tessa’s hand. But what stood out the most—the thing that made my stomach plummet—was the raw, angry burn stretching across the left side of her face.

Through the chaos, the sirens, the flashing lights, she managed to choke out what happened. A burning piece of wood had come down on her when she was trying to get out.

That was the night Cyn got her scar. The night everything really changed for us.

I only found out hours later, lying in a hospital bed with my leg stitched up, that Mom and Dad hadn’t made it out.

The fire had swallowed them whole.

Apparently, Dad—drunk off his ass, as usual—had lit a cigarette and let the ash fall onto one of the curtains. The flames spread fast, and by the time anyone realized what was happening, it was too late.

Honestly? I wasn’t shocked.

I wasn’t even sad.

Does that make me a bad daughter? Probably. But Louisa and James Elliot were terrible parents. Verbal abuse, sometimes physical, neglect when it suited them—it was all part of the package. They groomed me to take over the company, treating me more like an investment than their kid. So, when I got the news, all I felt was… nothing. No grief. No loss. Just a quiet, empty sort of relief.

The only lasting mark that night left on me—besides the emotional baggage—was the scar from that damn fence post. A nice, jagged reminder across my thigh of how much of a disaster our family was.

And really, who the hell buys metal fencing for Halloween decorations? I still don’t know.

Anyway… back to the present. I finished my glass of champagne without bothering to refill it. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t even feeling tipsy; just numb. Cyn, meanwhile, had stopped playing Breath of the Wild and was now busy setting up Super Smash Bros. Is she planning what I think she’s planning?

“Jess,” she said, her voice sweet and innocent—too sweet for a twelve-year-old who’s seen way too much. It made me rub my temples before looking up, only to have a Joy-Con land squarely on my chest.

“You want me to play?” I asked, my voice flat. She nodded enthusiastically, her expression playful, but the burn scar that covered the left side of her face—from her cheekbone up to her forehead—shifted as she smirked. The scar had aged like old leather, and it made her look both fierce and… kind of badass, in its own way.

“Fine. I’ll play,” I said with a small smile, not because I was thrilled, but because Cyn was always like this—she had a way of dragging people into her world. And at that moment, I needed a distraction. Even if it was just Super Smash Bros.

Chapter Text

Hey… Uzi again.

Oh, that’s a damn good price. Too bad I’m broker than a NYC beggar.

Right, context. I’m a PC nerd. Always have been. Building, upgrading, tweaking—it’s all stuff I’d love to do if, y’know, I actually had the money for it. But since my bank account is emptier than my will to live, I settle for window shopping online, scrolling through listings I’ll never buy.

Ever since… she came back, it’s been my coping mechanism. Some people drink. Some people scream into a pillow. I obsess over tech I can’t afford. Like this absolute steal I just found—someone’s selling a GTX 1060 for thirty bucks. Thirty. Either this person doesn’t know what it’s worth, or it’s gonna arrive in pieces held together by zip ties and prayer.

Not that it matters. Not like I can buy it.

But as I kept scrolling, my phone buzzed.

Nick.

I stared at the screen, debating if I should let it go to voicemail like I had the past however many times. Almost a week of dodging him, and now the guilt was settling in. Yay.

With a sigh, I answered.

“Hey, Zi.”

I cringed. That stupid nickname again?

“That stupid nickname again?” I muttered, rubbing my temple.

I hated how my voice came out—sharp, defensive, like I was just waiting for a fight. He didn’t deserve that. Any day now, he was gonna get tired of my crap and dump me. And honestly? I wouldn’t even blame him.

Nick, being Nick, didn’t snap back. He just let out a chuckle, brushing past my mood like he always did.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But can you come over? I got something for you.”

I hesitated. “What kind of something?”

“Just get over here and find out.”

I wanted to argue, to say not in the mood and hang up. But curiosity had already sunk its claws into me. And despite everything, I did kind of miss him.

“…Fine.”

He giggled like a mischievous little gremlin on the other end of the phone, and, to my absolute frustration, it sent butterflies into my stomach. Again.

“See you when you get here!” he beamed before hanging up.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. What are you planning now, Nick?

With a sigh, I powered off my laptop—held together by nothing but hope and spite—then shoved my phone into my pocket and headed downstairs.

And there she was.

Nori.

Curled up on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Dad’s been making her sleep down here. She hadn’t complained. Not once.

I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t going to acknowledge her. I hadn’t for nearly a week, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

“Hey, Uzi,” she said.

My shoulders locked up instantly, tension coiling in my spine.

I kept walking.

I grabbed my boots from beside the door, yanking them on a little harder than necessary. My fingers fumbled with the laces, mostly because my hands were clenched so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms.

Nori didn’t say anything else, but I could feel her watching me. Like she wanted to speak. Like she was hoping I’d turn around.

I didn’t.

I zipped up my hoodie, shoved my hands into my pockets, and walked out the door without a word.

The cold air bit at my face, but it was a relief compared to the suffocating weight pressing down on my chest inside the house. I took a breath, my footsteps crunching against the pavement as I made my way toward Nick’s place.

Whatever he’s planning, it better be good.

The walk was uneventful, the cold air biting at my cheeks as I kept my eyes on the ground. My footsteps echoed down the sidewalk, and for once, I didn’t mind the silence. That was until I saw a few familiar faces.

First, there was Rebecca—who’d always been known as the class “slut” because she couldn’t seem to go a week without hooking up with someone new. But today, to my surprise, she was walking hand-in-hand with Emily, the shy, quiet girl who everyone thought was just the nerdy type. Turns out, she wasn’t just some bookworm—she was a secret nerdcore musician. The two of them? Surprisingly, they looked happy together.

I couldn’t help but watch them for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing. Rebecca and Emily, of all people.

I kept walking and ran into Braiden next. Great. Braiden was one of those guys who somehow managed to set things on fire, not from malice, but because he was just that reckless. I swear, the guy didn’t even need a lighter to start a blaze—everything he touched seemed to catch flame somehow.

“Yo, Uzi!” Braiden called out, waving like we were old pals.

I just nodded and kept walking. I didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. Honestly, I didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone today.

I was about a block from Nick’s place—well, technically Jess’s place, but you get the point—when I saw Lizzy walk out of the local Seven Eleven looking like she had just won the lottery. Her face lit up with an excitement I hadn’t seen in a while, and she came running over to me, practically squealing with joy.

“Uzi! I got a job!” She beamed, her voice practically buzzing with energy.

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. As much as Lizzy was the bane of my existence back in school, everything had changed when she hit rock bottom. After that, she came to stay with me, my cousin Doll (who still managed to baffle me with how she pulled this blonde), and my dad. Surprisingly, after everything, we’d actually become friends.

“Wait, hold up,” I raised an eyebrow. “You, getting a job? You’re messing with me, right?”

She laughed, her grin widening. “Nope! I’ve been looking for something stable, and this place finally hired me! Can you believe it? I start tomorrow!”

I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her. Seeing Lizzy—of all people—actually get her life together was a bit surreal, but in a good way.

“That’s awesome, Liz. For real,” I said, trying to sound more supportive than sarcastic, which wasn’t always easy for me.

“I know, right?! I’m actually gonna be doing something for once! No more couch-surfing and living off my girlfriend’s generosity.”

I raised an eyebrow again. “You’re really gonna go through with this, huh?”

“Damn straight!” she grinned, throwing her arms up in the air like she had just won some kind of personal victory. “I’m turning things around, Uzi. Just wait and see!”

I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of respect for her. I wasn’t sure what job she got or how long it would last, but seeing Lizzy so excited about doing something productive made me realize that maybe—just maybe—people could change.

“Well, good luck, then,” I said, giving her a nod of approval. “Don’t screw it up, alright?”

“Me? Screw up? Never!” Lizzy said with a wink before turning to walk away, but then she stopped, as if on a whim, and fell into step beside me. I had a feeling she was probably tagging along to Nick’s place. From what I’d gathered, she’d become pretty decent friends with one of his sisters—Vicky, I think. Honestly, there were way too many women in that house.

“So… you still pissed at your mom?” Lizzy asked, her tone casual, but the question hit me like a punch to the gut. It was a sharp reminder of everything I’d been trying to push away. Nori had been gone for nearly ten years, and somehow she still managed to ruin my mood. Seriously, could she not read the room?

I exhaled, trying to keep my irritation in check. “Can we not talk about Nori?” I said flatly, hoping she’d get the hint. Lizzy fell quiet for a moment, but I could tell she knew better than to push further.

After a beat, she decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So… you gonna hook up with Nick or something?” she asked, a sly smirk creeping onto her face.

I shot her a glare, not in the mood for her teasing. “Fuck you, Lizzy!” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. Lizzy just laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction.

“Relax, Uzi. I’m just messing with you.” She winked, totally unapologetic. “But seriously, if you don’t, I’m taking bets on how long before you two are making out in his kitchen.”

I rolled my eyes, but my face flushed a little, and I hated that Lizzy had a way of getting under my skin. She was relentless, but she also had a weird way of making everything feel like less of a big deal. That was one thing I could respect about her.

“Can we just get to Nick’s place before you start betting on my love life, please?” I said, trying to move the conversation along before she could dig any deeper.

Lizzy just grinned, hands stuffed in her pockets, clearly enjoying the fact that she was getting a rise out of me. “Alright, alright, I’ll let it go… for now,” she said, her voice teasing but also surprisingly understanding. We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, and for once, I didn’t mind her company.

I guess maybe she was good for something after all.

But it wasn’t long before we reached the porch of Jess’s house. As soon as I stepped onto the wooden steps, I could hear shouting from inside. Yep, it was Tessa and Vicky at it again—those two were always shouting at each other. But then, I heard something that made my blood run cold: Jess was shouting back.

Jess, angry? That wasn’t something I was used to hearing. She usually had a way of staying calm and collected, especially when things got heated, but this… this sounded different. The frustration in her voice was unmistakable, and it hit me harder than I expected. Totally not scary at all.

I stood frozen for a moment, weighing whether to step inside and face the tension or turn around and pretend I didn’t hear anything. But Lizzy wasn’t having any of that.

“Come on, Uzi,” she said, waving me forward with a grin that only slightly masked the curiosity in her eyes. “You can’t just stand out here all day. We’re going in.”

With a reluctant sigh, I followed her, steeling myself for whatever the hell was going on inside. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it, but there was no backing out now. If Jess was already yelling, things had probably already escalated. And knowing Tessa and Vicky, this was just the beginning of whatever mess was unfolding.

I swallowed hard and pushed the door open, hoping that whatever storm was brewing inside wouldn’t leave too much damage in its wake.

But as soon as I stepped inside, Nick grabbed me by the arm and gently pulled me out of the entryway and toward a set of stairs leading down into the basement.

“Where are we going, the Backrooms?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Nick just smirked at me and flicked on the light, and that’s when my heart skipped a beat.

This idiot… he somehow got his hands on PC components. And not just any components—good ones. Really good ones.

He had a 1000-watt PSU sitting neatly on the floor, a Radeon 7700 graphics card, a Ryzen 5600x processor, 32 gigs of RAM, and a Westar Blue SSD with insane read and write speeds. My mind was racing trying to process it all, but my jaw dropped when I saw the case. It was a Zalmon, though I couldn’t tell the exact model since it wasn’t in its box. But just by looking at it, I could tell it was top-tier.

I stood there for a second, blinking in disbelief.

“You’re kidding me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick just chuckled, clearly proud of himself. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t be able to pull this off?”

“How the hell did you—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, grinning like a mischievous cat. “I’m full of surprises.”

I stared at the pile of components, my mind swirling. This was way more than I could have hoped for, especially with my situation. It was exactly what I needed to build the PC I’d been dreaming about, but now… now I felt a little guilty. Nick didn’t have to do this for me.

I finally looked at him, still in shock. “Nick, this is… insane. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You don’t have to say anything. You’ve been acting like you don’t care about anything lately, and I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, but you deserve this. Just… take it. Build something. Forget everything for a while.”

My throat tightened as I took a step closer to the components. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well,” Nick grinned, “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s build this thing together.”

And just like that, something inside me finally loosened. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something this thoughtful for me. Maybe Nick wasn’t the best at reading my moods, but this? This was perfect.

But then the crunch of chips shattered the mood. I whipped around, heart racing, and there was Cyn, sitting casually on an old pool table with a pack of Doritos in hand. That burn scar on the left side of her face seemed to smirk right along with her—like it had a life of its own.

“You two gonna have a celebratory kiss?” she asked, grinning like she’d just caught us doing something illegal.

I froze, my mind scrambling for a response. I was about to pull a William Afton, I swear to god. The urge to throttle her right then and there was strong, but I settled for a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel.

“Seriously, Cyn?” I hissed, arms crossed over my chest. “Now? Right now?”

She didn’t even flinch, taking another bite of her chips and leaning back like she owned the place. “What? Just curious.” Her grin widened. “You two have been eyeing each other like that for days.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but Nick stepped in, casually grabbing a few components off the workbench and holding them up. “Hey, Cyn,” he said with that annoying, charming calm of his, “You want to help or are you just here for the snacks?”

Cyn’s eyes shifted to the parts in his hands, her expression flickering for just a second. Then she shrugged, tossing another chip in her mouth. “Not my thing. But if you two lovebirds need a referee, I’m your girl.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, even if it was more out of annoyance than humor. Cyn’s brand of teasing was relentless, but for once, I wasn’t going to let it ruin my mood. “Alright, alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and forcing the tension out of my shoulders. “Let’s just get this over with before I end up burning this whole place down.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cyn called after me, still grinning as she continued munching on her Doritos.

I just shook my head, knowing there was no way I was going to live this one down. But for now, I was going to focus on the task in front of me—starting with putting together the machine that, for the first time in a long while, made me feel like I had something to look forward to.

It only took me a minute to devise my plan of action—motherboard first, then CPU, RAM, and cooler, all before slotting it into the case. Easy enough. The real challenge?

Cable management.

Dear god, cable management. I wasn’t looking forward to that mess of wires snaking around like a goddamn horror movie creature. But I pushed the thought aside and got to work, carefully unboxing the motherboard and laying it on the table.

Nick watched me with this dumb, excited grin, like a puppy that just found a new toy. “You look way too focused right now,” he teased, leaning on the table. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

I shot him a deadpan look. “Nick, if you distract me and I bend a pin on the CPU, I will murder you with this screwdriver.”

He held his hands up in surrender, still grinning. “Noted. No distractions while my genius girlfriend works.”

Shaking my head, I carefully installed the CPU, locking it into place with that oddly satisfying click. RAM went in next, followed by the cooler, and before long, the skeleton of my dream PC was coming together.

And then, it was time.

I stared at the mess of cables in front of me, already feeling the impending frustration. “Nick, if I disappear, just know I died trying to route these damn wires.”

Nick chuckled and reached into a nearby bag. “That’s why I got these.” He pulled out a pack of cable ties, waving them in front of me like a magician revealing his greatest trick.

I blinked, then grabbed the pack and held it to my chest dramatically. “You do love me.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Well, duh. Now let’s cable manage this beast.”

Chapter Text

This is new. Welp, introductions are in order. Victoria Louise Elliot—Vicky for short. And right now, I’ve got Lizzy parked next to me on my bed, both of us just chilling, playing video games, and gossiping like old ladies at a hair salon.

Meanwhile, Nick and his emo girlfriend are holed up in the basement doing god knows what. If I hear one suspicious noise—just one—I swear to god, I’m marching down there and smacking Nick so hard he’ll feel it in another timeline.

Lizzy snorted, clearly thinking the same thing. “You know, I bet Uzi’s just cussing up a storm over cable management.”

“Or threatening Nick with a screwdriver,” I added.

“Or both,” Lizzy said with a smirk. “Honestly, relationship goals.”

Lizzy grinned like the devil herself.

“Who do you think tops?”

“Jesus Christ! I do not need to think about that when it comes to my brother and his girlfriend!” I snapped, glaring at her. While I generally enjoy Lizzy’s company, I swear to god, she makes me want to slap her senseless sometimes.

“Just sayin’,” she replied with a smug grin before absolutely annihilating me in Mortal Kombat. She was playing Mileena, and I had Kitana—ironic, considering their whole sibling rivalry—and she landed her Fatal Blow.

For those who don’t know, in MK1, the Fatal Blow is a devastating comeback move that activates when your health is dangerously low. It’s brutal, cinematic, and Lizzy just whooped me with it.

“Bullshit!” I groaned as I watched my character get absolutely wrecked on screen.

Lizzy cackled. “Skill issue.”

“You button mash like a gremlin!”

“And yet, I win.” She leaned back, looking way too pleased with herself. “You want a rematch, or you gonna sulk like Nick when Uzi calls him out on his dumbassery?”

I huffed, cueing up for another match. “Run it back. I’m about to ruin your whole career.”

“Totally,” Lizzy snickered, her smug grin making my fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to slap her upside the head.

“No maining Mileena this time,” I warned, scrolling past her and locking in on the button-mashing king himself—Scorpion.

Lizzy’s smirk widened as she made her selection. Of course.

“You think I’m letting that slide? Nah, we’re doing this properly.” She picked Sub-Zero, completing the most classic rivalry in Mortal Kombat history.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Oh, you want smoke.”

“I am the smoke,” she shot back, cracking her knuckles dramatically.

As the match loaded up, we both leaned in, laser-focused. The second the announcer called Fight! we were already going feral on the controllers, the sound of frantic button mashing filling the room.

The match was intense—blow for blow, combo for combo. Every time I landed a special move, Lizzy countered with one of her own, and neither of us could keep the upper hand for long. But finally, finally, I had her exactly where I wanted her.

Grinning, I pressed both triggers on my controller, activating Scorpion’s Fatal Blow. The screen flashed red as he launched into a devastating cinematic attack, slicing through Sub-Zero with brutal precision. Lizzy let out a dramatic groan as her health bar drained to zero.

But I wasn’t done.

The announcer’s voice boomed, Finish Him!

“Oh, I will,” I said with a wicked smile, quickly inputting the command for my favorite Fatality.

Scorpion’s spear shot through Sub-Zero’s chest, yanking him forward before engulfing him in flames. His body crumbled to ash, and the screen lit up with the words Fatality—Scorpion Wins.

Lizzy threw her hands up. “Alright, alright! I get it! You got your revenge, damn!”

I leaned back, satisfied. “Damn right I did. Now, you want another round, or are you too busy licking your wounds?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, it’s on, Elliot.”

And just like that, we were right back at it, controllers clacking and competitive insults flying.

But eventually, we lost track of time—completely engrossed in our matches—until Jess interrupted in the worst way possible. She yanked the plug right out of my Xbox.

“Jess!” I snapped, whipping around to glare at her. “Are you serious?”

She stood there, arms crossed, looking as unimpressed as ever. “I told you both to tone it down. I was outside mowing the lawn, and I could hear you over the damn mower.”

Oh. Shit. Were we really that loud?

Lizzy gave a sheepish grin. “Uh… our bad?”

Jess sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, I don’t care if you two wanna act like a couple of hyped-up ten-year-olds, but keep it inside the house next time. I don’t need the whole neighborhood thinking someone’s being murdered in here.”

I crossed my arms. “Well, maybe if some people didn’t keep pulling cheap moves—”

Lizzy cut me off with a laugh. “Oh, please! You got your revenge, and then some.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just keep it down before I start pulling other plugs.” She gave us a pointed look before walking out.

I turned back to Lizzy with a smirk. “So… rematch?”

Lizzy cracked her knuckles. “You know it.”

And just like that, we booted the game back up—at a slightly more acceptable volume this time.

But before I could pick my fighter, Cyn strode in with her usual confidence and plucked the controller right out of my hands.

“Move it aside, Vicky. Let me show her how it’s done.” Cyn grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I raised my hands in mock surrender, an equally smug smile tugging at the corners of my lips. For being only 12, Cyn was definitely the best Mortal Kombat player I knew. This was gonna be fun—watching Lizzy underestimate my little sister and then pay for it.

Lizzy shot a side glance at me, her expression one of disbelief. “Oh, please. You are gonna take me down?”

Cyn just smirked, not even bothering to respond with words. She knew better than to waste her breath—she was gonna let the controller do all the talking.

As the match started, Cyn’s fingers were a blur on the buttons. Lizzy and I exchanged looks, both of us unsure whether to be worried or impressed. Lizzy, however, seemed to think this was just some lucky break for Cyn.

That is, until Cyn landed a flawless combo that had Lizzy’s health bar plummeting in seconds.

Lizzy’s face twisted in confusion, then in pure frustration. “What the hell?!”

Cyn didn’t even flinch. “Told you. Move aside, kid.”

I leaned back, watching the chaos unfold, completely entertained. Lizzy’s cocky attitude faltered with every hit Cyn landed, and it wasn’t long before she was cursing under her breath.

As Cyn landed a final, brutal Fatal Blow, Lizzy’s character crumpled in defeat.

“Finish him,” Cyn said, repeating the game’s prompt with a wicked grin.

I leaned forward with a laugh. “I told you, didn’t I?”

Lizzy stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. “Okay, okay, I get it! She’s a goddamn demon at this game. Fine, she wins.”

Cyn chuckled, handing me the controller back. “Told ya, Lizzy. Guess you just gotta respect the master.”

As she swaggered out of the room, victorious, Lizzy muttered to herself. “I swear to god, if I ever get owned like that again, I’m going to rage quit for real.”

I gave Lizzy a sympathetic pat on the back. “Better luck next time. Now, how ‘bout you and me go for round two?”

She gave me a playful glare. “You’re next, Vicky. Don’t think you’re safe just ‘cause you got to watch the carnage.”

I grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

Son of a bitch ! Ow…

Uzi here once more, and I just sliced my damn finger open with a pair of wire snippers—whatever the hell they’re actually called. I was in the middle of doing cable management on the PC Nick and I were building in his basement, trying to cut the end off a zip tie…

And instead, I cut my own damn finger .

Blood welled up instantly, a sharp sting following right after. I hissed through my teeth, shaking my hand like that would somehow make it hurt less. Spoiler alert—it didn’t.

Nick, ever the helpful boyfriend, barely glanced up from where he was installing the GPU. “You good?”

“Oh yeah, totally. Just decided to sacrifice my blood to the PC gods. Maybe they’ll bless us with a stable boot.”

He snorted. “Want a bandage?”

I sucked the cut finger into my mouth, glaring at him. “What do you think?”

Nick rolled his eyes but set the GPU down before heading for the stairs. “Stay here and don’t bleed all over the parts. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

As soon as he was gone, I sighed, looking down at my half-finished cable management job. The inside of the case looked… decent. Well, decent enough —aside from the tiny blood smear on the edge of the PSU shroud.

Great. Now our build was officially cursed .

And Cyn, the ever-helpful little shit she is, chucked a stress ball straight at the back of my damn head.

“Nice going,” she snickered, standing on the old pool table like she owned the place. Dirt tracks from her shoes smeared across the faded green felt as she casually kicked a billiards ball across the table—somehow sinking it like this was a game to her.

“Fuck you,” I muttered, though there was zero heat behind it. But the second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Shit. How could I forget? Her wonderful teacher was actively scheming to keep her after school for some extra "attention" and—nope. Not finishing that thought.

Before I could say something to fix it, Nick trudged back down the stairs, holding up a single band-aid like it was a golden ticket.

“Couldn’t find the first aid kit, but this should be enough, right?”

I stared at him. Then at the tiny bandage. Then back at him.

“Nick, I cut my finger open with wire snips .”

“And?”

“And this is like putting a sticker on a bullet wound.”

Cyn snorted. “You’ll live, drama queen.”

I groaned, but I still snatched the band-aid from Nick, peeling it open with my teeth. He just smirked and went back to installing the GPU while I did my best to keep from bleeding all over the motherboard.

Meanwhile, Cyn leaned back against the pool table, kicking another billiards ball just to hear it clatter. “So, when’s the grand unveiling of this Frankenstein machine? You gonna boot it up today or just stare at it dramatically for a few more hours?”

Nick shot her a look. “Once someone stops getting their blood all over my work, yeah.”

I flipped him off with my good hand. “It’s our work, dumbass.”

“Uh-huh. Who picked the parts?”

“…Still our work.”

Cyn just grinned. “Can’t wait to watch it explode on boot-up.”

"Need I fucking remind you that your GameCube combusted on you?" I shot back, hurling the stress ball right at Cyn’s smug little face.

I actually managed to nail her between the eyes. Nice.

She blinked, completely unfazed. “And? That was an honorable death.”

Nick snorted. “Honestly, I’m more surprised it lasted nearly six years of her constant torture.”

“Yeah, well, built different, ” Cyn shrugged, tossing the ball up and catching it like she wasn’t the reason that poor console met an early grave.

Meanwhile, Nick handed me a full pack of cable ties—smart move—while also subtly swapping out my wire snips for a pair of scissors. Probably for the best.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. “You act like I can’t be trusted with sharp objects.”

“You can’t be trusted with sharp objects,” Nick said immediately.

“Name one time—”

“You just sliced your finger open.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Scowled.

Cyn grinned. “Damn, Uzi, took the L on that one.”

I grumbled something under my breath and got back to the painfully tedious task of cable management. At least now I wouldn’t have to worry about losing another finger to this beast of a build.

“So, what exactly did you do to that GameCube?” Nick asked, his tone half-curious, half-mocking.

Cyn smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

Nick sighed. “Nevermind.”

I shook my head, finishing up a section of cables and leaning back to admire my probably decent work. “Alright, nerds, moment of truth—are we powering this thing on or what?”

Cyn grinned wickedly. “Oh hell yeah. Let’s see if it explodes.”

I rolled my eyes and glanced at Nick. “As long as someone didn’t buy the PSU off Temu, I’d say we’re good.”

Nick didn’t even look phased— of course he didn’t —but he still hammed up his reaction, clutching his chest like I’d just mortally wounded him.

" Excuse me, I bought these parts from MicroCenter. ”

Cyn, ever the little menace, smirked. “ Nerds’ paradise~ ”

Nick ignored her, and I snorted as I fished the power cable out of the PSU’s box. And yes , it was modular—because we’re not animals. I plugged it in, flipped the switch, and grabbed an HDMI cable, hooking it up to the ancient VIZIO TV Nick had down here.

“Y’know, we could’ve tested this upstairs, where the actual monitors exist,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but then we’d have an audience.” Nick shrugged.

Cyn crossed her arms, watching as I finished plugging everything in. “I am the audience.”

“Yeah, but you don’t count,” Nick shot back.

“Rude.”

I rolled my eyes and took a breath. “Alright, moment of truth.” My finger hovered over the power button for a second, dramatic effect and all.

Then, I pressed it.

For a split second, nothing happened. Then—

Whirrrr.

The fans spun up, LEDs flickered to life, and a blue light blinked on inside the case. The TV screen stayed black for a painfully long two seconds before flashing to a boot screen.

“ Holy shit, it actually works, ” I muttered.

Cyn clapped, totally deadpan. “Yay, no explosions.”

Nick exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “Damn, we’re good.”

I grinned, but before I could say anything else, the smell of something not quite right hit my nose.

Burning.

Oh. Oh shit.

“Uh… do you smell that?” I asked, face scrunching.

Nick froze. “No way.”

Cyn grinned. “Oh hell yeah, something’s melting! ”

I quickly yanked the plug out of the wall, my PC nerd brain going into overdrive.

Okay, okay, checklist time.

No external damage to the case. No flames licking out of the PSU. GPU looked fine. RAM was untouched.

Then my gaze landed on the CPU cooler.

Oh, fuck.

He didn’t.

“Nick…” I deadpanned, feeling a fresh wave of existential dread creeping in.

Cyn, meanwhile, leaned in like she was watching a NASCAR crash, grinning ear to ear.

“Did you take the protective film off the CPU cooler before you put it in?”

Silence.

Nick didn’t even blink .

That was all I needed to know.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Nick, you absolute dumbass. ”

Cyn let out a wheeze. “Oh my God , this is better than TV.”

Nick finally moved, slowly rubbing his temples. “Okay, look —”

“Oh, there is no ‘ look ,’ Nicholas.” I cut him off, jabbing a finger at the CPU cooler like it personally insulted me. “You just tried to fry your brand new processor. ”

He groaned. “I forgot! ”

Cyn snickered. “And now we all get to smell your failure.”

I exhaled sharply and rolled up my sleeves. “Alright, move. I gotta fix your dumbass mistake before this thing actually melts itself.”

Nick just sighed in defeat and stepped back as I grabbed the thermal paste and prepared to undo his stupidity.

Chapter Text

We spent hours troubleshooting—mainly because Nick didn’t buy a Windows key. I refuse to have that stupid watermark staring me down like a judgmental specter. At some point, Cyn got bored and fucked off to do whatever chaotic gremlin things she does, leaving me alone with Nick and Jess as she helped him mount a monitor arm to his bedroom wall.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Jess hit me with:

"Not to be offensive, but Uzi, you seem like you have autism."

I nearly dropped the screwdriver I was holding. My brain short-circuited. The sheer whiplash of that sentence caught me so off guard that I had to physically stop myself from blurting out, Bitch, what?! Because, as much as that would’ve been the natural response, I figured that would probably piss off my boyfriend. (I’m surprisingly getting used to calling him that.)

Instead, I slowly turned to face her, narrowing my eyes. "...What?"

Jess just shrugged like she didn’t just throw a verbal flashbang into my reality. "I mean, you hyperfocus on things, you don’t like when stuff doesn’t go according to plan, and you have that whole socially awkward but in a kinda charming way thing going on.”

Nick, to his credit, looked just as blindsided as I was. “Jess, what the fuck?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying it makes sense.”

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. “Okay, one: rude. Two: even if I was autistic, I don’t see how that’s relevant to mounting a goddamn monitor arm.”

Jess grinned. “It’s not. I just felt like sharing.”

I wanted to strangle her. But also, a tiny, nagging part of my brain whispered: She might have a point.

“Listen, I’ve had to deal with Cyn, who’s been fully diagnosed as autistic since she was in preschool,” Jess said, crossing her arms and leaving Nick hanging with the monitor arm. He was holding it like it was the last cup of ramen at the store, one hand trying to keep it in place, the other fumbling with screws.

“Jess! Help!” Nick whined, but Jess wasn’t paying attention to him. Her gaze was fixed on me, and suddenly, I had the distinct feeling she was sizing me up like some kind of puzzle she was trying to figure out.

I wouldn’t admit it out loud—hell, I barely wanted to acknowledge it in my own head—but Jess scared the fuck out of me. Something about her confidence and the way she could shift from teasing to serious in an instant made me feel like I was walking on eggshells.

“Look, I’m just saying,” she went on, oblivious to Nick's desperate attempts to salvage the monitor arm. “I’m not diagnosing you or anything, but it’s a thing I’ve noticed. And I’m guessing you’re not exactly loving the whole talking about it part, but whatever.”

Nick finally managed to secure the arm, his face flushing with frustration. “Okay, but someone could’ve helped me with this before you started psychoanalyzing Uzi!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his expense, but then Jess turned her eyes on me again.

“So… how are you feeling about it?” she asked, casually tossing the question out like it was just another Tuesday.

I hesitated. The room felt a little smaller all of a sudden, like the air was thickening. It wasn’t that I hated the idea of being on the spectrum—I didn’t know enough about it to really care, but the sudden focus on me felt off.

“I don’t really know how I feel about it,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as I could. “I mean, I’m just… me, you know?”

Jess didn’t push it further, which honestly was a relief. But I could tell that wasn’t the end of this weird conversation. It felt like there was something else she wasn’t saying.

So anyway, yada yada, Nick and I got the PC set up with dual monitors, which, let’s be real, are arguably superior to single monitors. If you don’t agree, then BITE ME! Seriously, you’re missing out.

Nick went through the process of getting everything installed—Steam, a better browser than Microsoft Edge (which, let’s face it, that thing can go DIE), a few random games, and, of course, the most important app of all: Minecraft. Yes. Minecraft. You’d think it was a joke, but trust me, this was a sacred installation in this house. No PC is complete without it.

“Alright, Minecraft is ready to go,” Nick said, grinning like he’d just won an Oscar for tech wizardry. He spun his chair around to face me, the excitement in his eyes infectious.

I rolled my eyes, but honestly, I was just as hyped. It didn’t matter how many times we’d played—it was always a good time, especially when there was no reason to be “productive.” Just mining, building, and never getting lost in caves, even though we always got lost in caves. It was basically the unofficial bonding ritual at this point.

“So, how long until you start a new world and build a monstrosity of a castle that’s completely impractical?” I asked, half-teasing, half-expecting the answer to be “immediately.”

Nick smirked. “You know me too well.”

I threw a pillow at his head. "You better not make it look like a damn pentagon this time," I warned. "I swear to God, I’m still recovering from that last one."

“Hey, I thought it was innovative ,” he shot back, already opening up Minecraft and loading a new world. "You know, geometric."

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure my brain still hurts from trying to figure out how to build a door in that thing.”

We laughed, the usual banter flowing between us as the screen loaded up. Then, just as I was about to join him in his world of blocks , I realized something.

“Wait, where’s Cyn?” I asked, scanning the room.

Nick paused, furrowing his brow. “Oh, she’s probably off making trouble somewhere. I haven’t heard her since earlier, so... God knows what she’s up to.”

I was almost afraid to ask. Cyn had a way of popping up when you least expected it—and always with a snarky comment or a loaded question.

“Well, she can deal with herself for now,” I said, turning back to the screen. "Let’s just get this world started before she comes back and ruins my vibe."

Nick clicked a few buttons, and the familiar, pixelated world appeared before us. And for the first time in hours, the chaos of the day started to fade, replaced by the quiet peace of a new Minecraft world.

As we built, mined, and joked around, it almost felt like the world outside didn't exist. Just me, Nick, and this blocky universe we could do whatever we wanted with.

Then suddenly, Jess’s voice echoed from downstairs, cutting through the low hum of the PC fans.

“Victoria Louise Elliot, Tessa James Elliot, both of you stop shouting, it’s nearly 11 o’clock at night!”

Shit. I glanced at the clock on the screen. It was almost 11 PM. How the hell had the time gotten away from us? I barely noticed the hours slipping by when I was in the zone.

And hold on a second— Victoria ? Tessa ? That’s Vicky and Tessa’s full names? I didn’t know that. Victoria sounded... kind of badass, honestly. It fit her, too. I mean, Vicky’s already a force of nature, but "Victoria" had this level of elegance to it. Tessa too—her full name had a nice ring to it.

“Guess that’s our cue to shut up,” I muttered under my breath, not really expecting Nick to hear.

“Yeah, probably,” Nick said without looking away from the screen. “I swear, every time Jess yells at someone by their full name, the world gets a little quieter.”

I chuckled, clicking around in the game. It wasn’t like I could get in trouble, but I wasn’t about to push my luck. Jess had this way of making you feel like a kid again, no matter how old you were.

“I’ll go get a drink,” I said, standing up and stretching. “Maybe Jess won’t bite my head off if I’m being productive.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you gonna get a snack, too? Because if you’re planning on raiding the fridge again, we might be out of everything by morning.”

I shot him a look. “I’m not gonna raid it. Just need a damn bottle of water.”

But honestly, I wouldn’t put it past me to raid the fridge later. The temptation was real.

I headed downstairs, but as soon as I reached the bottom of the staircase, I heard Jess’s voice again.

“Victoria, Tessa, if I hear one more argument out of you two, I’m coming up there myself!”

My pace slowed a little. Jess was really on one tonight. It’s not like I hadn’t heard her yell before, but I wasn’t used to the ‘full name’ treatment. That was reserved for serious business. I made my way to the kitchen, half-expecting Jess to come storming in, ready to drag me to the corner like I was 10 years old again.

“Okay, okay,” I muttered to myself, reaching for the fridge. “Chill, Jess.”

The fridge door creaked open, but as I reached for the water bottle, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and there was Vicky, still looking pissed off but trying to keep it cool.

“Did she really just use our full names?” Vicky asked, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, apparently,” I said, cracking open the water. “She never really does that unless it’s a big deal.”

Vicky sighed, rolling her eyes. “Man, this is just like when we were kids. Never a dull moment in this house.”

I raised the bottle in a mock toast. “To surviving Jess’s wrath.”

Vicky laughed softly and leaned against the counter. “I think I’ll survive. It’s just Tessa I’m worried about.”

I shot her a look. “Why? Tessa’s not bad.”

Vicky gave me a look that said otherwise. “You haven’t seen her in full-on ‘sibling mode’ yet.”

I frowned. “Uh-oh.”

Before she could answer, Jess’s voice echoed again, “I’m serious, girls!”

Then, without so much as a second to think, I heard it. My name. Oh shit.

“Uzi, come here!” Jess’s voice sliced through the air like a razor. I flinched, my stomach doing flips as if my body knew what was coming. I took a deep breath and slowly made my way into the living room, where Nori, my absentee mother, was sitting on the couch. Crying. It was such a sharp contrast to the woman I’d heard about from Aunt Alice—the woman I’d been told was snarky, confident, and unbothered. But there she was, tears streaming down her face.

“Uzi Marigold Doorman.” Jess’s voice was laced with that signature mom glare—one I hadn’t seen aimed at me in a while. Oh fuck. I’m dead, aren’t I?

I opened my mouth to respond, but Jess didn’t give me a chance to speak. “Do you have any clue how your actions are affecting your mother?”

I barely held back a laugh. It was all I could do to keep my emotions from spilling over. “Oh, why should I care?” I snapped, my voice tinged with bitterness. “She’s been gone for god knows how long... she left my dad, she left me...”

Before I could get another word out, Jess’s voice erupted over mine, loud and sharp.

“She left for a reason, and you’re too fucking petty to see it! Now—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re not my fucking mother!” The words came out before I could stop them, fueled by all the years of anger, resentment, and hurt. I didn’t care if I lost my boyfriend over it. I was done swallowing my feelings for the sake of keeping the peace.

Jess froze, her mouth hanging open in stunned silence. For a second, it was like time itself had stopped, the tension thick in the room. I could feel my heart racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. I was waiting for the inevitable—her shouting, her anger—and maybe something worse, like the disappointment I could already see in her eyes.

But then Nori, the woman I hadn’t known how to feel about for most of my life, looked up at me. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath, her voice breaking through the tension. “Uzi... I—"

I didn’t wait for her to finish. “No. Don’t even try. You left me, you left us. And now you show up... crying? It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to waltz back in like everything’s fine.” My throat tightened as I spoke, the emotions spilling out like a dam breaking. “You can’t just expect me to forgive you after all this time.”

There was a long silence.

Jess looked at me, her expression unreadable. “Uzi…” she started, but I cut her off before she could finish.

“I don’t need you to defend her, Jess. She’s an adult, she can stop crying like a baby and face the consequences of her actions.”

For a long, awkward moment, no one said anything. The weight of my words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I could see Jess wanting to argue, but she stayed silent, unsure how to proceed.

Finally, it was Nori’s turn to speak. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a weight I hadn’t expected. “I never meant to leave you, Uzi. But I... I had to go. I needed to figure things out. I was... I still am tied to dangerous people...”

“Shut the fuck up, Nori,” I cut her off, my voice low but sharp. She flinched—actually flinched—at my words. My own mother, flinching at what I had to say. The sight of it felt like a punch to the gut.

I didn’t care though. I couldn’t. I turned on my heel without waiting for any kind of response and dropped my water bottle in the process. It rolled across the floor as I stormed out of the living room, my heart hammering in my chest. I barely even registered the sound of my footsteps as I made my way to Nick’s room.

I slammed the door shut behind me. The moment the door clicked, I let out a shaky breath. I had to get away from it all. The weight of Nori’s words, the sharp edge of Jess’s glare, the anger swirling in my chest—it was all too much.

Without thinking, I threw myself into Nick’s arms. His warmth was immediate, and for a moment, I let myself feel the comfort of it. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Not now. Not here. I had too much to deal with to break down in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, burying my face in his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Nick didn’t say anything at first, just held me tighter. The steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to ask what happened. He already knew.

“Uzi…” he finally whispered, his voice soft but laced with concern. “I’m here for you.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. What else could I say? What words could fix any of this? Nothing.

And that was the hardest part of all.

The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a quiet that gave me space to breathe, space to think. I didn’t have all the answers, and I wasn’t sure when—if—things between me and Nori could ever get better. But for now, I was here. With Nick. Safe. And that was enough.

Chapter Text

My fucking head hurts… I’m sitting under a goddamn bridge, high out of my fucking mind. Great. Just great.

Wait—what was I gonna say?

…Eh. Forget it.

There’s a bottle next to me. I think. My vision keeps doing this weird thing where it zooms in and out like a shitty camera trying to autofocus. I try to remember what I took, but the thought slips through my fingers like sand. Definitely wasn’t weed—shit’s not strong enough for this. Maybe it was Xanax? Adderall? Both? Whatever…

The world feels weird. Not bad weird, just… off. Distant. Like I’m watching myself from somewhere else. My arms are too heavy. My head is too light. I stare at my hands, flex my fingers. Still mine, probably.

Then I hear footsteps. Steady. Purposeful.

Nick.

Oh.

Right.

I should probably say something before he—

“Uzi.”

Too late.

I glance up at him, and I can see the exact second he realizes how fucked up I am. His face shifts—eyebrows pulling together, jaw tightening. I don’t like that look. Feels too much like pity. Or disappointment. Or something else I don’t wanna name.

“Jesus, Uzi…” He crouches down in front of me, eyes scanning over my face like he’s checking for injuries. “What the hell did you take?”

I laugh. I don’t know why. It just bubbles up and spills out before I can stop it. “Dunno,” I say, still giggling like a fucking idiot. “Something. Nothing. Everything. Pick one.”

Nick does not look amused.

I should probably feel bad about that.

I don’t.

Or maybe I do, but it’s buried under too much static to matter.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Come on. We’re going home.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t wanna.”

“Tough shit.”

He grabs my arm—gentle, but firm—and hauls me up to my feet. The world tilts dangerously, and I stumble forward, crashing into his chest.

Oh. Warm.

That’s nice.

Nick grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t push me away. Just wraps an arm around my waist, holding me steady.

“C’mon, dumbass,” he mutters, his voice softer than I expect. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I should argue.

I don’t.

For once, I just let myself be pulled along.

Honestly… being seen by my boyfriend in this state should’ve made me somewhat self-conscious, but it didn’t. Like, what the fuck?

I should’ve cared, right? Should’ve felt embarrassed or ashamed or… something. But no. Instead, all I could focus on was how heavy my body felt, how everything around me seemed to spin too fast, like I was caught in a goddamn tornado.

The thing that did make me care, though, was when I saw Cyn.

Her good hazel eye locked onto mine, and I saw it—just for a second—her whole face changing. Her expression widened, eyes going round with shock as she took in the mess I’d become. And for whatever reason, I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand her seeing me like this.

Before I could even think, my hands shot out and I shoved Nick away, stumbling backward. My body felt like it was underwater, heavy, slow, and I couldn’t balance. Next thing I know, I’m hitting the grass hard, face-first, my vision going fuzzy around the edges.

Great. Just fucking great.

The 12-year-old who looks up to me, who sees me as some kinda badass role model, just saw me high as a kite.

I hear Nick muttering something under his breath, but I’m too caught up in the spinning, dizzying feeling of the earth beneath me. I try to push myself up, but my arms don’t cooperate. Fuck.

Then I feel it. A tiny, familiar hand on my shoulder, pulling me gently back to a sitting position.

“Uzi… you okay?” Cyn’s voice is soft, unsure, but there’s something else underneath it, something… worried.

I try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a choked cough. “Yeah. Just… peachy.”

I can hear Cyn’s sharp intake of breath, but she doesn’t say anything. She just sits down next to me, her small body surprisingly steady next to mine.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” she says, quieter now. “You know that, right?”

I want to argue. I want to say something, anything, to defend myself. But instead, all that comes out is a sigh.

“Yeah. I know.”

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound being the rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant hum of cars. I want to feel embarrassed. I should feel embarrassed. But I don’t. Not really. Just numb.

Cyn’s here. She saw me. And she’s not running away. Maybe that’s all that matters right now.

Then more footsteps—two pairs. One set of boots, one set of dress shoes.

“Is she alright?” That damn southern drawl. Fuck me.

I didn’t even have the energy to respond. Instead, I mumbled into the grass, “Hello, Auntie…” before rolling onto my back, my body feeling like it was made of lead.

That’s when I saw them. Aunt Alice standing over me, looking like she had a mix of concern and frustration on her face, her arms crossed tightly. And then there was Beau. My oldest cousin, the one who always had a smile on his face, no matter what. Except now… Now, he was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t place. Shock? Disbelief? Whatever it was, it made my stomach twist.

I didn’t know what to say to him. Hell, I didn’t know what to say to anyone right now. What could I say? I’m sitting here, high as hell, barely holding it together, and they’re seeing me like this.

“Uzi…” Beau’s voice was hesitant, a little softer than usual. “What the hell happened to you?”

I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, I let my head flop back onto the grass and let out a shallow breath. “Long story.”

Aunt Alice knelt down beside me, her expression softening, though she was still pissed. “You’re a damn mess, you know that, right?”

I half-smiled, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. “Yeah. I got that.”

Beau shifted uncomfortably, like he wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay, but Aunt Alice was there, her presence solid and unshakable, so he stayed.

“You’re my family, Uzi,” she said, her tone steady, though the edge was there. “I don’t care what you’re dealing with, you can’t be doin’ this to yourself. You’re better than this.”

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to push away the fog in my brain. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

But in that moment, with Aunt Alice hovering over me, and Beau standing there like he didn’t know what to say, I felt like I wasn’t. I felt like I’d already messed up. Like maybe I was already too far gone to fix.

“Beau, pick her up. I don’t trust her enough to let her go with Nick, no offense, bud.” Alice’s voice was sharp and no-nonsense, her eyes flicking to Nick, who just nodded without saying a word. I could feel Cyn beside me, her usual energy drained, withdrawn—like always when new people were around. Wait—did she even meet Aunt Alice before? I couldn’t focus on that, though. My brain was too fried, the words swirling in and out like the smoke from the joint I had no business smoking in the first place.

Footsteps interrupted my haze. Familiar ones, too. Jess.

“Nori, listen to me, damn it!” Jess’s voice was sharp, almost pleading, and I could feel the tension building in the air. Oh, great. Mom.

And then Alice snapped, her voice suddenly cold and commanding. “Nori, back off.”

I tilted my head, watching this unfold. Honestly, with the haze still clouding my head, I felt like I was watching a slow-motion train wreck. I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to.

“Alice, please just let me—”

“No.” Alice’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “You were told. She didn’t want to hear your damn sob story. In fact, you always act like you’re the victim in every situation.” Alice sneered as she sized my mother up. For being the youngest, Alice sure didn’t act like it. “Now look at what you’ve done. Jess filled me in over the phone. You tried to plead your case instead of just letting Uzi come to terms with you. And now look at her—more baked than a damn fruitcake!”

The words hit hard, but I couldn’t even get mad. It was true. I was a mess, high off my ass and completely out of control. But hearing Aunt Alice tear into my mom? It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a harsh wake-up call.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to hide, but I couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart around me. I closed my eyes again, hoping the world would just… disappear.

Chapter Text

I don’t like this.

Too many people. Too many voices. Too many things happening all at once.

Oh right, Cyn here. I wanna go home.

Uzi is on something—she smoked something, huffed something. I don’t know, but she’s high as a kite right now, and it’s starting to scare me. She’s the strongest person I know. She actually took me seriously when I told her my teacher might be a pedophile. She doesn’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. She gets it.

But now?

Now she’s… I-I don’t even know.

I keep my hands shoved deep in my hoodie pocket, gripping the fabric inside so tight it hurts. My eye flicks between Uzi, Alice, and Nori. Alice is pissed, Nori looks like she’s about to break, and Uzi—she’s just gone. Even though she’s right there.

I almost say something. Almost reach for her. But I don’t.

Instead, I take a slow step back. And another. And another.

No one notices. No one ever does.

I don’t know where I’m going, just that I need to get out of here. But before I can turn and disappear completely, someone grabs my sleeve.

Nick.

His grip is firm but not tight, like he already knows I’m about to bolt. I don’t look up at him, just stare at where his fingers curl into my hoodie.

“She needs you,” he says, voice quiet.

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to.

Somehow, I force something out.

“She needs you. Her boyfriend.” My voice is quiet, almost swallowed by the chaos around us.

Then I wrench away and run.

Jess shouts after me, but I don’t stop. I can’t. My feet slam against the pavement, my hoodie whipping in the wind. I don’t know where I’m going—I just keep running until my legs burn, my chest aches, and my breath comes in ragged gasps.

When I finally stop, I don’t recognize anything around me. The streetlights hum. The sidewalks are cracked. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

My fingers twitch at my sides. I’m scared. I don’t know where I am.

I just want to go home. I want to sit on my bed, hug my broken GameCube, maybe teach myself how to solder or something. Anything to make the world make sense again.

I start walking, not really paying attention. My brain is too loud. Too messy.

Then—

A hand on my shoulder.

It’s gentle, but it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

I whip around, heart hammering, and—oh.

Khan.

Uzi’s dad stands there, looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern. He’s still in his work clothes, his tie loosened, his hair messier than usual.

“Cyn?” he says. “What are you doing out here?”

I blink, then glance around.

Oh.

I’m at Uzi’s house. Well… more accurately, her dad’s house.

That’s when the front door creaks open, and I see Lizzy step out. Her eyes catch mine, and without hesitation, she quickly descends the stairs and picks me up.

“Hey, hey…” she says softly, her voice steady but laced with worry. “Your big sister texted me. Why would you run off like that?”

Of course, Jess texted her. Of course she did. I don’t have the energy to say anything back. I can’t.

Instead, I just cling to Lizzy like my life depends on it. The world feels too heavy right now, too overwhelming. Lizzy doesn’t question me. She just holds me, her arms strong around me, offering the only comfort I’ve felt in what feels like forever.

I bury my face in her shoulder, letting the tears I’ve been holding back finally slip out. I don’t care if she sees me cry. I just need to feel grounded.

I hear Lizzy sigh, and then she starts to walk, her steps slow and steady, guiding me away from the chaos. And for the first time in a while, I let myself feel safe.

It’s been two days. I’m home again. Nick’s vanished off the face of the earth, Jess looks like she hasn’t slept in a week, and—because the universe clearly hates me—Uzi’s deadbeat mom is still hanging around.

I’m holed up in my room with my disassembled GameCube like it’s some sacred ritual. The lid’s off, the guts are exposed, and Jess’s phone is balanced on my knee playing a tutorial I’ve already rewound three times. There’s a screwdriver in my lap and a warzone of tiny screws scattered somewhere in the carpet, lost to time.

Yeah. Things are totally fine.

I poke at a capacitor with the tip of the screwdriver and sigh. I don’t even know if I’m doing this right. Honestly, I don’t care. It just feels nice to do something—anything that isn’t crying, panicking, or watching everyone I care about fall apart. Again.

I hear footsteps outside my door. Jess, probably. Or maybe Uzi’s mom, which—please, no. The door creaks open, and I tense.

“You eating?” Jess asks from the hallway, voice flat, tired.

“No.”

“You want to?”

“No.”

“You want me to stop asking?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Okay. Just checking.”

She doesn’t leave right away, though. I hear her linger there for a second, like she’s debating whether or not to say something else. Then, quietly, she adds, “Nick’s not mad. He just needed some air.”

Then the door clicks shut.

I stare down at the GameCube like it’s got answers. But it just stares back with the same broken silence I’ve been carrying since that night.

I feel the tears welling up, sharp and sudden like a migraine behind my eyes. My vision blurs—but only on one side. The right stays clear while the left fades out in a watery smear, like it always does.

The scar itches. That leathery patch of burned skin stretching across the left side of my face starts prickling like it knows I’m feeling things again. I want to scratch it. God, I want to scratch it. But the last time I did, I ripped it open. Bled all over my pillow and got a whole lecture about “not letting trauma define you physically” from Jess, which, like…shut up.

I drop the screwdriver, let it clatter to the floor. The GameCube sits there, guts exposed, like it’s judging me. Maybe I deserve it.

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. I don’t even know why I’m crying. Because Uzi’s falling apart? Because I ran away? Because Jess is tired and Nick is gone and everything feels like it’s slipping?

The worst part? No one even expects me to keep it together. I’m just the weird little sister. The one who hides behind tech and sarcasm and bad posture. The one with the scar and the trauma and the GameCube.

And now I’m crying into a dead console like it’s gonna fix something.

I force myself to calm down. Deep breath. Another. My chest still feels tight, like someone wedged a cinder block behind my ribs, but I can fake normal long enough to do this.

I pick up Jess’s phone from the carpet, swipe out of YouTube, and bring up the keypad. The screen’s smudged with fingerprints and a bit of something I don’t wanna identify. Gross.

I punch in Uzi’s number. I have it scribbled on a scrap of paper taped to the back of my nightstand, like some kind of emotional failsafe. Not that I need it—I’ve basically got it memorized at this point. I’ve dialed it enough.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Then voicemail kicks in.

“Hey, this is Uzi. Bite me and leave a message.”

I smile. It’s small and pathetic, but it’s there. She’s said that forever—like it’s her brand or something. I always liked that about her. She says stuff like she means it, even when she’s falling apart.

I hover over the screen, thumb shaking, not sure if I should leave a message. What would I even say? Hey, sorry you had a full-on meltdown and I bolted. Hope you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. Miss you?

God, I’m the worst.

Suddenly, the phone clicked. Uzi’s voice crackled through the speaker, tired and rough like she’d just woken up—or hadn’t slept at all.

“What, Jess?”

I blinked. Right. Some phones still let you pick up mid-voicemail. Noted for future embarrassment.

“Not Jess,” I blurted, a little too fast.

There was a pause. I could practically hear the cringe on her end, like she just physically recoiled.

Probably because I saw her completely gone. Not tipsy, not even buzzed—no, she was full-on higher than the damn ISS. And I don’t think she’s forgiven herself for that. I’m not sure I have, either. Not because I’m mad. But because seeing her like that cracked something in me I didn’t know could break.

“…Cyn?” she asked, finally.

“Yeah.” My voice came out small. I hated it.

Another silence. I almost hung up, but she didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t end the call. That meant something, right?

I swallowed. “I just—wanted to check on you. You kinda… scared me.”

That last bit slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t want her to feel worse, but there it was, raw and honest.

“I know,” she muttered. “I scared me too.”

“So… where’s Nick?” I asked, even though I kinda already knew.

“I’m right here, Cyn,” his voice came through the speaker, calm and steady like always.

Of course he was with her. Nick never left her side when things got rough. And I’m not saying this to be a dick or anything, but… he’s perfect for her. He’s patient, he listens, he doesn’t get scared off when she spirals or says the wrong thing. He actually gives a damn. Not like some fake hero in a movie. Just—genuinely, quietly, always there.

He’s perfect for Uzi. And I think that’s why I feel so… weird. Not jealous. Not exactly. Just… left out. Like they’re figuring things out and I’m still here, trying to reassemble a broken GameCube because it’s easier than reassembling my brain.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Uzi said suddenly, her voice softer this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Everything just hit at once and—” She cut herself off with a shaky sigh. “No excuses. I messed up.”

“I know,” I said, hugging Jess’s phone a little tighter to my ear. “But I still want my best friend back. The one who threatened to deck my gym teacher for giving me a C in dodgeball.”

“I still will,” she muttered. “I’m just… trying to be that person again.”

There was something heavy in her voice. A weight I couldn’t lift for her. But maybe I didn’t have to.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll wait.”

“Can I be honest with both of you?” Uzi asked, her voice quieter than usual. Before either of us could respond, Nick and I both blurted out a simultaneous “Yes,” and she let out a small laugh, the kind that almost felt like a tiny relief.

“The… the reason I spiraled, and took whatever I took, was because of my mom.”

Oof. Yeah, that hit hard.

Yeesh, I get that. I have my own share of mommy issues. Hell, we all do—Nick, Tessa, Vicky, even Jess. All the Elliot kids come with a side of parental baggage, heavy and tangled up with everything else. We’re not exactly the poster family for emotional stability. So hearing Uzi say it, just laying it out there like that, made a lot of shit click into place.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, shifting in place. “I get it. You don’t even need to explain.”

She didn’t answer at first, but I could practically hear her nodding on the other end of the phone. It felt like a moment of unspoken understanding, something only people who’ve had their shit thrown back at them by their parents can really grasp.

“I just—I don’t know how to deal with it,” Uzi continued. “Like, how do you even fix that? How do you fix a person who didn’t even stick around for you?”

“I don’t think you can fix people, Uzi,” I said carefully, the words tasting bitter as I let them slip out. “I mean… I know we all want to. But people are broken in ways you can’t just patch up with duct tape.”

There was a long pause, then Uzi’s voice broke the silence, a little cracked but still strong, even if it felt fragile.

“I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

And that, right there, was the thing that made my chest tighten.

That’s when I heard footsteps outside my door. They stopped right in front of it, and I saw the shadow slide under the frame, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Someone’s outside my door,” I muttered, figuring it was probably Jess coming to get her phone back.

But then the door creaked open, and I instantly reverted to that shy, awkward twelve-year-old version of myself—small, unsure, the kind of kid no one notices unless they want to. It was Uzi’s mom. I think her name’s Nori?

“Hey… kiddo…” she said, voice tentative as she reached for Jess’s phone. But I quickly pulled it away, clutching it against my chest like some kind of security blanket. I could hear Uzi on the other end, her voice strained with confusion.

“What’s going on? Why’d you stop talking?” Uzi asked, and I could almost feel her frown through the phone.

Nori didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she did but chose to ignore it. “Please, I just want to talk to her,” she said softly, taking a step closer, her hand outstretched.

I shifted back, scooting away from her, still clutching the phone like it was my only lifeline. “I—I don’t think I can,” I stammered, trying to keep the phone behind me like a shield. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of it in my throat.

Nori’s expression softened, but I could see the frustration flicker across her face. “Cyn, I know this is hard, but I need to talk to her. I have to.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Every instinct in my body was telling me to keep away, to protect the little bit of peace I had left.

Uzi’s voice crackled through the phone, now tinged with concern. “Cyn, are you okay? What’s going on?”

I didn’t have the words. I didn’t know what was happening. Everything felt off—Nori standing there, Uzi on the phone, and me, stuck in the middle, trying to keep it all together while everything seemed to be falling apart.

I finally found my voice, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to keep Nori from taking the phone.

“Y-your mom’s here… she wants the phone…” I stammered, my hands shaking slightly as I held it tighter.

“Don’t give it to her,” Uzi’s voice came through, sharp and clear. I nodded, even though I knew Nori couldn’t see me. The tension in the room felt thick, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes again, the pressure building. Nori’s patience was wearing thin, her eyes darting toward me, and I could see it—something tucked in her coat pocket. A shape, sharp and familiar.

A gun.

My breath hitched, and I instinctively took a small step back, my body freezing in place.

That’s when Jess’s voice sliced through the tension from the hallway, a sharp edge to her words. “Nori!” she shouted, causing Nori’s shoulders to stiffen. “Stop intimidating my younger sister. You’ll get the phone when she’s done with it.”

I could practically feel Nori’s frustration radiating off her. She glanced over her shoulder, the tension in her face obvious as she let out a sharp breath.

“Don’t tell me how to handle my daughter, Jess,” Nori’s voice was low, clipped. But I could see the hesitation in her movements now. Her hand wavered slightly at her side, as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

I stayed frozen, still clutching the phone, not knowing what the hell was going to happen next. This was so much more than I’d ever signed up for.

“Cyn, come here. Don’t give Nori the phone,” Jess called, her voice calm but firm.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I bolted.

Past Nori, out the door, straight into the hallway and into Tessa’s room like a scared cat who just spotted a vacuum cleaner. The moment I crossed the threshold, I practically collapsed against Tessa.

“You good, Cyn?” she asked, her voice soft, like she already knew the answer but hoped maybe I’d surprise her.

I didn’t respond. Just handed her Jess’s phone with trembling fingers and then clung to her like I was six years old again and had just watched a horror movie way too late at night.

God. How far I’ve fallen.

She didn’t say anything else, just held me—let me shake and breathe and exist for a second without all the noise.

Outside, I heard Jess’s voice again—sharper now. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was enough to know she was handling it. Nori wasn’t getting in here. Not today.

I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t feel brave or cool or funny or like the version of me that people think I am. I just felt small. And tired. And scared.

“I saw a gun,” I whispered into Tessa’s shirt. “In Nori’s pocket. I-I think she was gonna…”

My voice broke.

Tessa’s arms tightened around me like a shield.

“You’re safe now,” she said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in days, I believed it.

Chapter Text

Uzi again.

Fresh out of the shower, which already puts me leagues above your average League of Legends player. Yeah, that’s right. I said it. Screw Heimerdinger and his stupid little turrets.

I’m crashing at Aunt Alice’s place now. She kicked my mom out, which was honestly the best thing that’s happened to me since middle school gym class got canceled due to asbestos. Not sure where Nori’s nesting these days—and to be clear, I don’t care. Probably a Motel 6 with emotional baggage and a vending machine full of guilt snacks.

Nick and I shared a bed last night for the first time. Before your feral little brains start assuming things—no, nothing happened. Get your heads out of the gutter. We just… slept. And yeah, it was nice. Warm, quiet. He held my hand at some point, and I didn’t even flinch. That’s progress, right?

Still, I woke up before him. My brain’s too loud for sleep these days. Probably always has been.

I’m in Alice’s guest bathroom now, towel wrapped around me, hair dripping. Staring at my reflection like it owes me money. There’s a shadow under my eyes that makeup can’t fix. No one warns you that grief and trauma have the same aesthetic as a raccoon with insomnia.

There’s a knock on the door. Two short taps.

“You decent?” Nick’s voice.

“Define decent,” I mutter, then louder, “Yeah, come in.”

He peeks in, eyes flicking up to meet mine in the mirror before walking all the way in. He’s holding a mug. Coffee. Probably with way too much sugar and just enough milk to offend purists.

“You looked like you needed it,” he says, handing it over.

I take it with both hands. Sip. Burn my tongue. Worth it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything more.”

He leans against the counter next to me, silent for a moment. Then, “You doing okay?”

What a loaded question. But I nod anyway. Kind of.

“Better than two days ago.”

“Low bar.”

“I like achievable goals.”

We stand there, quiet. The steam from the shower still fogs the edges of the mirror, but it’s starting to clear. Bit by bit.

Just like me.

Then the door creaked open and Aunt Alice stepped in. One look at her face and I could tell—she was out of PTO. Not from work. From life.

“You alright, Auntie?” I asked quietly, tossing a towel over my head like a hood and clutching the other one around my chest like it was armor. Felt weird seeing her look like that. Tired. Done. Like she’d had to parent too many broken people in too little time.

She gave me a look that said “define ‘alright,’” then sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “You askin’ ‘cause you care or ‘cause you’re stalling to avoid whatever emotional meltdown I’m here to help with?”

“…Little bit of column A, little bit of ‘please don’t make me cry in a towel’ B.”

Alice chuckled, but it sounded more like a breath that forgot how to laugh. “Fair enough.”

She walked in, careful and slow, like I was a scared animal that might bolt. She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through her hair—messy, like she hadn’t slept, which… probably accurate.

“You look better,” she said.

“Better than high as a kite and sobbing in Nick’s arms?” I shrugged. “Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

She didn’t laugh this time.

“What happened to you wasn’t just a spiral, Uzi. It was a freefall.” Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it. “And I don’t want you going back there. So we’re gonna talk. Not now, not while you’re damp and hiding behind sarcasm. But soon.”

I nodded. Not because I wanted to talk, but because I knew I owed her that much.

Alice stood up, stretched her back with a wince, and turned to leave.

“Oh—and towel armor aside? You missed a spot.” She pointed to a smudge of mascara still smeared under my left eye.

I groaned and flopped onto the bed. “Cool. I look like a raccoon. A mentally unstable raccoon.”

“Yup,” she said over her shoulder. “But at least you’re our raccoon.”

After Aunt Alice left, I sat there for a while. Just… breathing. Letting the room be quiet. No chaos, no mom, no crying twelve-year-olds, no impromptu interventions. Just me, a towel, and the faint sound of Nick brushing his teeth in the next room like the domestic dork he is.

I could get used to this.

Well. Not this —not the trauma dump recovery arc I apparently stumbled into—but the peace part. The stillness.

Still beats queueing up for a game of League and losing my will to live after getting flamed by a twelve-year-old who thinks Heimerdinger is a personality trait.

God, I hate that game.

Like, I hit rock bottom emotionally once and suddenly I’m spiraling through life’s ranked ladder with a 0/10 KDA and a support that refuses to ward. And you know what? Even then— still less toxic than the average LoL lobby.

At least when my life falls apart, there’s a chance someone brings snacks.

Anyway. Shower’s done. Trauma: temporarily at bay. Nick’s humming some dumb tune he probably made up. And me? I’m about to change into pajamas and pretend I’m not a raccoon-person hybrid emotionally recovering in someone else’s house.

Life’s weird.

But at least I don’t main Teemo.

Chapter Text

I’m back in school after the worst weekend of my life.
And Nicole Winters—yes, that Nicole Winters—is making my life hell.

Ms. Self-Proclaimed Sociopath. Queen of apathy. Full-time narcissist with a superiority complex and zero hobbies. She’s decided that bullying me is her new favorite after-school activity.

“She’s so pathetic,” Nicole snickered today, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear.
Jecka—her bleach-blonde, bootlicking bestie—laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Probably because thinking for herself would be a new and terrifying experience.

Didn’t realize Nicole needed a yes-man. Or in this case, a yes-woman with a Sephora addiction and two brain cells bouncing around like Pong.

I didn’t say anything. Not because I couldn’t—God knows I wanted to—but because I’m tired. And when you’re already holding yourself together with emotional duct tape, sniping back just makes the whole thing unravel faster.

So I walked.

Down the hallway. Past them. Past their judgmental stares. Past the whispers and fake pity from classmates who probably think I relapsed just to get attention.

And I held it in.

Because if I explode here, in school, they win.
And if I cry? That’s even worse.

So yeah. Uzi Doorman: recovering burnout, semi-functional student, walking emotional landmine...
…and apparently still more likable than Nicole "I watched American Psycho once and made it my personality" Winters.

God, I hate this place.

The day barely registered for me, honestly. Not much really sticks when you’re running on fumes and a constant mental hangover.

Next thing I knew, I was in the cafeteria, scarfing down tacos because it’s Taco Tuesday, I guess. Cool. Whatever.

Then Nicole decided to show up.

Of course she did.

She marched up to my table with a water bottle in hand, like she was about to drop some life-changing wisdom or something. She plopped herself down across from me, took a casual sip, then—without missing a beat—held the bottle out to me like she was some kind of freakin' school nurse.

“Listen, druggie,” she started, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I’m not being nice, I’m just... observant. You’re one misstep away from shooting this place up. Aren’t you?”

She fucking did not just say that.

I stared at her. Took a second to let the words hit, then snatched the bottle out of her hand. The thing reeked of booze. Nice, real nice. But honestly? I needed a buzz, so I didn’t care.

“One, I’m not thirsty,” I muttered, before taking a long swig from the bottle.

She didn’t flinch. She was just staring at me, waiting for a reaction, like she was some sort of fucking predator sizing up its prey.

“Two,” I said, letting the bitterness take root, “Why would you assume I’m gonna shoot this place up? I’d probably just end up killing myself instead…”

The words hung in the air between us, sharp and cold. But I couldn’t stop them from coming out. Couldn’t stop myself from saying the truth that hurt just as much as it needed to be said.

Nicole blinked, her face momentarily cracking before she wiped it clean. But I didn’t miss the flicker of unease behind her eyes. And maybe—just maybe—that was enough for me.

“Christ,” Nicole muttered, her whole vibe shifting in an instant. Like I’d hit a nerve or something. “You’re like me sophomore year.”

“The hell?” I blinked, locking eyes with her. This wasn’t the Nicole I knew. The one who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

She sighed heavily, slouching forward, elbows digging into the table.

“Sophomore year…” Nicole started, her voice oddly soft. “I nearly hung myself. Rumors spread, people said I slept with the entire football team instead of hanging with the right crowd. My first mistake? Making friends with guys.”

My brain hiccupped. Nicole Winters. The sociopath. The one who never cared about anyone or anything. Nearly hanging herself because of rumors?

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. This wasn’t the girl who threw insults like punches. This was a side of her I didn’t think existed.

“Before you ask, druggie,” she went on, cutting through my thoughts, “the rumors weren’t the reason I nearly did it. The harassment was. But…” Her voice caught for a second, like she was trying to fight something back. She cleared her throat, pushing through it. “Someone stopped me. Became something I couldn’t let go of. What I’m trying to get at here is—if you actually take a gun to your head? You’re gonna kill Nick on the inside. Aight?”

Her words hit harder than I expected. And for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

Chapter Text

Hey. Nori Doorman here—oh, who gives a shit, you know who I am.

Look.

I know I’m garbage. I know I don’t deserve to come waltzing back into Uzi’s life after everything.

But when Absey started circling like a goddamn vulture? I didn’t have a choice. I had to come back.

So now I’m sitting in what’s left of my childhood home—burned-out walls, ashes where the floor used to be, and a half-melted picture of me and my sisters. Yeva… and Alice.

Yeva, the big sister who always had her shit together. I could really use some of that cold, bulletproof Russian luck right now.

And Alice… Jesus, Alice. You’re still alive, and you ripped into me like I fucking deserved. Standing up for Uzi like I should’ve. That stung like hell. But it was fair.

“Yev… I need your stupid Russian luck right now,” I muttered, staring down at my phone. My actual phone—not some burner. Khan, bless the sentimental bastard, kept my old iPhone 4 in pristine condition. Thing still holds a charge somehow. Probably runs on spite.

I tap the home button. It’s sticky. Probably from old soda or blood—I dunno, pick one. I press it harder and the screen lights up, cracked to hell and back. Thing looks like it lost a bar fight and somehow walked away.

Still, it’s alive. Just like me. Unfortunately.

I thumb my way to the voicemail app. The icon flickers for a second like it might give out. Drama queen.

There’s thousands of messages.

Most of them from Khan.

I tap one at random, just to rip off the band-aid.

It’s Uzi.

Her voice was tiny—God, she was so little. Five? Six, maybe. Still had that squeaky tone kids get when they’re trying to sound brave.

She thought I was just away. Or lost. Not dead. Not erased by Absey like I was some glitch in a system too afraid to let me finish my sentence.

“Hi, Mommy… um, Daddy says you’re on a secret mission but I miss you and my friend at school drew you and you have a cape so I guess that’s cool. I’ll save it for you. Come home soon, okay? I made macaroni.”

There was a beat of silence. Then static. Then the call cut out.

And my whole goddamn chest cracked open.

I closed my eyes and let the pain in, like I was daring it to do something worse than it already had.

And I whispered to no one, “Macaroni sounds pretty fuckin’ great right now.”

Somehow—some fucking how—I fell asleep like that. Curled up in soot and memories, in the ass-crack of dawn, like a feral cat.

When I lifted my head, I damn near choked on my spit.

Yeva was sitting right in front of me, calm as a goddamn saint.

“Нори,” she said in Russian, voice soft but grounded. “Давно не виделись.”

Then she smirked, switching to English like it was nothing.

“Still can’t speak our parents’ language, huh?”

I didn’t say a word. I just launched myself at her and tackled her into the tightest hug I’ve given anyone in years.

“Easy, easy…” she murmured, arms around me, steady like always. Holding me like I was still her baby sister. Like no time had passed.

I couldn’t care less. I buried my face in her shoulder and let myself break a little.

“How?!” I croaked out, my voice raw as her fingers combed gently through my shitty, box-dye-brown hair. God, I still hated that I ever had to bleach this mess.

Yeva didn’t flinch.

“It wasn’t easy,” she said, voice low. “But I made everyone think I was gone. I had to. I just… I needed to protect Doll. Keep her out of Absey’s line of sight.”

She paused, her breath hitching just a bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Nori. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Before I could get a single word out, I heard footsteps crunching the charred floorboards behind me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to—there was this sharp gasp, followed by a voice I hadn’t heard in too damn long.

That stupid southern drawl.

“Yev…?”

Alice. The baby of the family.

She didn’t walk—she launched herself at us like a missile, wrapping around both Yeva and me like she was the oldest, not the one we all used to fight to keep out of the liquor cabinet.

“Jesus fuck,” she breathed, burying herself into the hug like she’d fall apart if she didn’t.

“Alice,” Yeva said gently, almost reverently, slipping an arm around each of us like she hadn’t missed a beat. Like it hadn’t been over a decade of silence, faked deaths, and abandonment.

I was a wreck—full-on sobbing into Yeva’s chest, not even pretending to hold it together. I didn’t care who saw.

Then I heard them. A third set of steps. Heavier. Slower.

And I felt them—arms, familiar and strong, sliding around me from behind. Warm. Solid. The kind of presence you don’t realize you’re desperate for until you have it again.

Khan.

No words. Just the way he held me said everything.

We were all back. Somehow.

Broken. Fucked up beyond belief.

But we were here.

Then Yeva pulled back from the hug, quietly slipping out of our little tangle of trauma and snot and warmth. She moved like a ghost across the blackened floorboards, disappeared behind what used to be the hallway, and came back with a dusty bottle of bourbon clutched in one hand, three chipped shot glasses in the other.

“Drinks?” she asked like it was a casual Tuesday night, not the aftermath of a goddamn family resurrection.

That’s when it hit me—I haven’t had a drink in over a month.

I blinked at the bottle, then at Yeva, then back at the bottle.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, wiping my nose with the sleeve of Khan’s jacket. “I’m getting fucking hammered.”

Yeva just smirked and poured. Alice didn’t even hesitate. She just raised her glass and said, “To being the most emotionally constipated Russian family in the hemisphere.”

We clinked.

Burned like hell going down. Tasted like gasoline and memories. Felt like home.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like a ghost sitting in the ashes.

Yeva laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that came from someone who’d seen too much and learned to grin through the trauma. She leaned back against what was left of the wall, arms draped loosely over her knees.

Then, softer:

“What happened to the house?”

I shrugged, already drinking straight from the bottle like it owed me rent.

“No fucking clue.”

“Got molotoved,” Alice chimed in, her voice clipped, bitter. “By you-know-who.”

I didn’t answer. Just tipped the bottle again and let it burn a hole in my throat. Because no—no, I didn’t want to think about her. About the people she sent. About what almost happened to Uzi. Not now. Not while Yeva was miraculously breathing and bourbon was within arm’s reach.

Yeva didn’t press. She just watched me for a moment, eyes soft with something halfway between guilt and love.

“Still drinking like you’re twenty-two and freshly divorced,” she muttered, half-smirking.

“Still judging like a grandma who listens to spy cams,” I shot back, wiping my mouth.

Alice snorted. “You’re both insufferable. And I’m the baby. You raised me to be this way.”

“Damn right we did,” Yeva said. And we laughed. God help us, we actually laughed.

For a second, just a second, it didn’t feel like we were a bunch of emotionally-scarred screwups crawling out of a warzone. It felt like family.

Chapter Text

Nori again.

Fuck my life.

Khan just sent my ass to one of those mental health doctors. Shrinks. Head-fixers. Whatever the hell they call themselves.

Apparently, I’ve got anxiety. Depression. ADHD—I already knew that one, had it since I was old enough to curse out a teacher and forget my own homework in the same breath. But now? Now I’ve got a bottle of pills with my name on it and a paper that says “PTSD” in big block letters like it’s a damn prize I won.

Guess fifteen years of running, hiding, and pretending I was dead comes with baggage.

I sat in the car afterward, prescription bag in my lap like it was gonna bite me. Khan said something, soft and supportive, but I didn’t hear it. My ears were ringing with the doctor’s voice. Calm. Measured. Like I was some skittish animal about to bolt.

“You’ve been in survival mode for so long, you don’t know what peace feels like.”

Yeah. No shit.

I cracked open the bottle when we got home, took the little white pill the doc said would help with the static in my head. The anxiety. The guilt. The nightmares. All the ghosts I drink to forget.

It tasted like chalk and regret.

Now I’m sitting on the back steps, watching the sun go down through the haze of cigarette smoke and wondering if these pills are supposed to make me feel better, or just feel at all. My hands are steady. That’s new. Usually they’re trembling by now. Maybe it’s working.

Maybe I’m just too tired to fall apart today.

But the day just… slips by before I can get a grip on it. I know Uzi’s supposed to swing by—grab some of her old stuff from her room. It’s not a big deal. Just some clothes, maybe a few books.

So why the hell is my heart racing like I just snorted jet fuel?

Out of pure desperation to keep my hands busy, I dug my old acoustic guitar outta the attic. Thing’s held together with duct tape and spite. I start strumming random bar chords. Clumsy. Ugly. Loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

Then the front door creaks.

Boots hit the floor—metal on metal, a clink of chains, fabric brushing like a warning shot. My brain short-circuits.

Suddenly it’s not my kid walking into the house.

It’s her.

Absey.

That sound. Those goddamn boots. I’m back in the compound. In that room. Blood in my mouth. Her voice like sandpaper and sulfur. Her laugh echoing down the hall as her goons held me down and—

I can’t breathe.

Everything’s underwater. My chest is a vice. My vision’s closing in like a tunnel and the walls feel way too close and way too loud. My fingers curl too tight around the guitar neck and I can’t even tell if I’m still playing.

Am I having a panic attack? Is that what this is?

Because I feel like I’m dying and I can’t even scream for help.

I can barely hear anything through the static in my head, but there’s shouting. Distant, muffled—like someone yelling underwater.

Voices crash against each other. One sharp. One shaking.

Then I catch it, clear enough to punch through the fog.

“Uzi Marigold Doorman, you’re making your mother have a panic attack!”

That’s Khan. Has to be. Only he uses her full name like it’s a damn spell.

Figures he’d be the one to step in. I want to tell him to back off. To shut up. That I don’t need protecting.

But all I can do is sit here, clutching the guitar like it’s a life raft while my lungs forget how to work.

Chapter Text

Uzi here. Let me rewind about ten minutes.

Nick and I were at the DMV—which, yes, is exactly as soul-crushing as you’d expect. I had to re-up my license because apparently almost overdosing doesn’t exempt you from bureaucracy.

After that, we were heading to my dad’s place. Just grabbing a few clothes and other essentials to make crashing at Aunt Alice’s a little less…well, awful.

What I didn’t expect? Walking through the door and finding her—Nori, my biological disappointment of a mom—sitting on the couch, strumming an acoustic guitar that looked like it was ready to off itself. She didn’t even look up. Just…froze.

I said “hi,” politely, even. Or as politely as I could manage without grinding my teeth into powder.

Then my dad stepped in like it was a hostage situation and told me to leave.

I obviously told him no, because what the hell?

That’s when he dropped the line that hit harder than anything I’d braced for:

“You’re giving your mother a panic attack!”

I glanced at her, expecting… I don’t know. Maybe for her to be faking it. Trying to guilt me into backing off.

But no.

The way her chest rose in short, shallow breaths. The way her eyes didn’t focus on anything. The way her hands shook like she was fighting something only she could see—

I’ve had panic attacks. I know what they look like.

This was real.

And it made something sink in my stomach, cold and guilty.

I, Uzi Doorman, just gave my own mother a panic attack.

How screwed up is that?

I froze, halfway between rage and regret, staring like a total idiot while Nick quietly placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Uzi,” he said, low and even. “She’s not okay. Let’s… back off.”

I hated that he was right. I hated even more that I listened.

So I stepped out. Just far enough to give her space. But not far enough to hide from the weight sitting on my chest.

She was still gasping. Knees pulled to her chest. The guitar lay on its side like it had been thrown there.

“…Should I say something?” I whispered.

Khan looked like he wanted to say yes—but he just shook his head instead.

“Give her a minute, kiddo. She’s not there right now.”

I just stood there.

A week ago—right before I nearly OD’d (don’t tell Nick that was the plan)—I made Nori cry. And yeah, I felt like shit back then. But this? This is different.

This time she looked scared of me.

That hit something deep. Something raw.

So I did the only thing that ever helped me when I was spiraling. I sat down beside her, careful, slow, and gently pulled her into a hug.

She stiffened. Flinched like I’d smacked her.

But after a beat, she folded into me—quiet, trembling, and whimpering into my shoulder like a child. Or maybe like a mom who’d run out of ways to pretend she was fine.

“What happened today?” I asked, voice low. I looked over at my dad.

Khan sighed. The kind of sigh that says I’ve been holding this in all day.

“I sent her to therapy. Psychiatrist, too. She got prescriptions for anxiety and depression… and her first ADHD refill in over fifteen years.”

I blinked.

Fifteen years. That’s before I was even in grade school, around the time she “died”.

Nori let out this tiny, broken laugh through the tears.

“Guess I’m a full-blown mental case now. Surprise, surprise.”

“Don’t say that,” I muttered, tightening my grip. “You’re just… trying to get better.”

“Don’t feel like it,” she whispered back. “Feels like I’m drowning slower.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’m still not sure there is anything to say. So I stayed. Just sat with her. Let her cry.

Because if I’ve learned anything from this past hell of a week, it’s that sometimes just being there is the only thing that matters.

After a moment, I finally found my voice.

“So…Dad said it’s been, what…fifteen years since you were last medicated?”

Mom—God, I’m actually calling her that again in my head—nodded against my shoulder, still clinging to me like I might disappear if she let go. Her grip was tight. Desperate. Familiar.

“Fifteen years off meds?” I muttered. “No offense, but I’m amazed you didn’t bite someone.”

She gave a weak, breathy laugh that cracked halfway through. “I think I did once. Some asshole in a biker bar. Or maybe that was Yeva. Honestly can’t remember.”

There was a beat of silence between us. Her breathing was uneven but starting to slow, hitching less with each inhale.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally. “For everything. For not being here. For being…me.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I just let her hold on. Maybe tomorrow I’d scream at her. Maybe I’d walk out again. But right now?

Right now, she felt small. And scared. And not like the woman who disappeared when I was five.

She felt like a person.

Chapter Text

Uzi again. And I’m honestly not sure if this is a terrible idea or not—but we’re doing it anyway, I guess.

So… ever since last night—when I accidentally gave my mom a panic attack (emphasis on accidentally, okay?)—Dad’s been acting weird.

Like extra weird.

He’s planning something. I don’t know what, but he’s got that “I have a surprise but I won’t tell you because I know you’ll fight me on it” kind of look.

And I’ve been getting these looks from Doll and Lizzy.

Yeah, that Lizzy. Blonde, ex-cheer captain, used to call me names in the hallway. Now she’s dating my cousin and sleeping on our couch like we’re in a sitcom.

Anyway, today Dad told Mom and me to get dressed, no questions asked. Said he was “taking us somewhere.”

I tried asking where—got a dad-glare in response.

Now we’re in the car, and Mom’s in the passenger seat clutching her pill bottle like it’s a lifeline, and I’m in the back, mentally preparing for either a surprise picnic or a full-blown intervention.

Knowing my family?

Probably both.

Then we pulled into a place I hadn’t seen in years.

The old mall.

It used to be the highlight of my week when I was four. Mom would take me there, buy me those weird glittery hair clips, and we’d eat soft pretzels while watching people argue over parking spaces. That was before she, y’know, faked her death and disappeared for fifteen years.

Now the parking lot was cracked with weeds, windows clouded over like the whole place was holding its breath.

I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror—Mom’s. Nori’s. Whatever name she’s going by in my head today.

She looked like she was still trying to glue herself together with duct tape and meds. Pale. Twitchy. Dull around the edges.

“You okay, Mom?” I asked.

She flinched. Just slightly. But I noticed. And it hit harder than I wanted it to.

“I—I’m fine… just… meds are… are…”

“I get it, Mom,” I said quickly, cutting her off before she spiraled. “I get it.”

A pause.

“Thanks, Uzi,” she mumbled, like it physically hurt to say.

Dad killed the engine and cleared his throat. “Thought maybe coming here would help. Just… something familiar.”

“Pretty sure they bulldozed the Cinnabon,” I muttered, unbuckling.

Nori gave a weak laugh. Like dust. But still—it was a laugh.

We stepped out. The sun was already starting to sink, painting the dead mall in gold. The kind of gold that makes everything look more tragic.

And as we walked up to the shattered doors, I noticed her hand brush mine. Just a little.

I let her.

Not a big deal. But maybe it was.

But the moment I stepped inside, something in my chest twisted.

It was rundown. Abandoned. The kind of forgotten that smells like mildew and teenage regret. Graffiti covered the walls in a mix of edgy symbols, bad jokes, and someone’s half-finished manifesto.

You could practically feel the ghosts of high schoolers who came here to snort paint or hook up behind the old GameStop.

Not that I’d know.

Nick’s my first boyfriend. He hasn’t even—

Okay, no. Gutter thoughts, brain. Back in the box.

I tried to focus. The food court was half-collapsed, with chairs overturned and a busted soda machine leaking rust. I remembered this place being so… alive. Loud. Full of the kind of joy that only exists when you’re four and holding your mom’s hand with a pretzel in the other.

Now?

She was walking beside me again, eyes darting like she was expecting shadows to yell at her.

“Used to be cleaner,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Used to have working lights,” I muttered back.

She chuckled. It was weak. But real.

We passed what was left of the kids’ play area. The little jungle gym I used to climb. Now covered in mold and cracked plastic.

I looked at her again—Nori—and wondered how many of my memories were real. And how many were just things I’d made up to fill the hole she left.

“You used to get scared of the animatronic dog at the pizza place,” she said suddenly, like she was remembering it too.

I blinked. “…You remembered that?”

Her eyes were glassy, but she smiled. “You threw a cup of apple juice at its face and screamed it was the devil.”

“…Okay, that actually sounds like me.”

“Yeah. It does.”

We stood there a moment. Just… standing. Not fixing anything. Not pretending to.

Just existing in a broken place, with all our broken pieces.

Dad stepped up behind us and set a hand on each of our shoulders.

Usually, that kind of touch would’ve made me flinch, throw out a sarcastic remark, maybe yank away with a “cool it, old man.”

But not today.

Not here.

I took a breath. One of those deep, slow ones I’d learned to fake when trying not to cry in school bathrooms.

I had to ask. I needed to.

“Mom,” I said, the word sharp in my mouth—like a language I used to speak fluently but hadn’t touched in years. My voice stayed low, careful. Like too much volume might shatter her.

She stiffened, like I’d slapped her.

“Y-yeah?” she stammered. Her voice was cloudy, not all there—the meds still adjusting, dragging her through molasses she wasn’t used to yet.

“Why did you leave?”

I asked it softly. Gently. Like one wrong note might send her spiraling again. She flinched anyway. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“No… it’s alright,” she said, though her tone was all glass edges and paper skin. “When I was your age… my sisters and I got tied up in stuff we shouldn’t have.”

She paused.

Of course she paused.

My chest ached.

“I was in a gang,” she admitted, each word forced like it had to fight its way out of her throat. “And Absey—the ringleader—she came back. Said if I didn’t come with her… she’d kill you. And your father.”

I blinked.

She looked at the floor like it held all the answers. Like it could forgive her where I maybe couldn’t.

“I thought… I thought if I disappeared, if I played dead… you’d both be safe.”

Silence stretched out between us. I didn’t know what to say. My brain couldn’t decide if I was furious or relieved or just… empty.

Dad squeezed my shoulder gently. For once, I didn’t shrug it off.

After a moment, I did push Dad’s hand off—but only so I could step forward and hug Mom.

She needed it. She looked like she was going to shatter if even a stiff breeze rolled through the building.

The second I touched her, she locked up like a crash test dummy mid-collision. Like I’d slapped her across the face instead of gently wrapping my arms around her.

I held on tighter.

That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? When someone’s falling apart? You just… hold them together for a while?

Then she exhaled, arms finally sliding around me. And just like that, her knees gave out.

And here’s the thing: I’m chronically short. Like, if I squint and stand on my ego, maybe I’m five-foot-two. Realistically, I’m probably still in the fours. The point is—

My emotionally and physically tall-ass mother is now collapsing into my gremlin-sized body.

“Okay, gravity, chill,” I muttered, trying not to buckle under her full weight. I managed to guide her down, kind of awkwardly kneeling with her in the middle of the old food court floor like it was a therapy session from hell.

She clung to me like I was her anchor. Like letting go would send her drifting into some cold, black vacuum.

“Sorry,” she whispered into my shoulder, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you carry all this.”

I wanted to say same, but my throat closed up.

“I’m used to it,” I said instead, which might’ve been worse.

Then Dad just… scooped us both up. Like it was nothing.

Man’s a damn tank. Built like The Undertaker in his prime—and yeah, I’m a WWE fan, bite me. The guy’s a contractor. Comes with the territory: muscles, calluses, and the emotional intelligence of a half-functioning coffee machine… unless it’s about food or his kid melting down.

He carried us over to the old fountain in the center of the mall, the one with the chipped tile and that weird rust stain no one ever cleaned. The bench nearby groaned under his weight as he sat us down, gently like we were fragile cargo.

Then he ruffled my hair, which normally would’ve made me hiss and duck, but I didn’t this time.

Because I knew that smile.

It was the smile. The one that always came right before he’d vanish and return with the ultimate comfort food. He used to do this all the time, back when I’d emotionally collapse after Mom “died” and before he buried himself in drywall and clients to keep from doing the same.

Sure enough, he walked off without a word, probably on a mission to find the nearest greasy pizza joint or a vending machine still alive enough to cough up a Snickers.