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She first met him while auditioning for Planet of the Apes. His first words to her were, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you are the first person I thought of to play a chimpanzee."
---
His first drawing to her came after the filming of Planet of the Apes concluded. It was the head of a boy with his mouth sewn shut, along with a poem. She kept it in her bathroom, where she'd see it every day.
---
Their first date was in the newly opened theater, where they watched the first Harry Potter movie. When they returned to their respective homes, they watched the rest of the released movies on video call together.
---
Their first kiss was in a McDonald's. The lights were flickering and the staff were half asleep. Litter surrounded them and their burgers were only half-eaten. That was the moment she knew she'd fallen.
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The first time she told him that she loved him was after the filming of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He said it back with confidence. They moved into adjoining houses and furnished them with Oompa Loompa corpses.
---
Their first son came years later. They named him Billy Raymond Burton. She dressed him up in outfits that made his classmates cringe whenever they saw him and used a toy wand to scare his friends.
---
Their first daughter was named Nell Bella Georgia Molly Maybelle Burton. He advised against four middle names, but neither could pick a favorite. They decided to keep all six names.
---
Their first attempt at forever never happened. He tried to pull out a ring, but she told him gently, "Don’t make me say it… With me, forever is a vow spoken only to be broken." They continued to live in adjoining houses, but something had shifted between them.
---
The last movie they did together was Dark Shadows. She didn't want an orange wig; he thought it was meant to be. So they brought water guns to work.
---
Their last kiss was in the rain, under a dim streetlight. Her cheeks were wet and she couldn't see straight. It wasn't from the rain.
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Her last words to him were, "I love you." He didn't say it back, and she understood immediately.
---
The last time they saw each other was when she walked away.
---
Now they were living separately. Helena had moved on; she was dating an art historian called Rye Dag Holmboe. Tim had another girlfriend, an actress like his ex. Her name was Monica Bellucci, a beautiful Italian woman. She did daily TikToks in the morning, but Tim didn't mind. He spent that time watching movies and being on set.
One morning, Tim came across Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It was the fifth movie of the series, but he'd seen them all before. Without thinking, he pressed play.
About half an hour through, Tim remembered why he'd been avoiding the series. Helena Bonham Carter was there. She was everywhere; in Netflix's latest hit series, in Disney's new obsession with live action remakes, in the oldest regency movies…
But as he watched, he couldn't bring himself to pause the movie. He was enchanted by Helena's cackle, entangled in her character's story. The way her messy hair fell into her face brought back his best memories and the craziness in her eyes brought back his favorite times. It wasn't Tim's fault that, once the movie finished (or rather, once he finished skipping through the movie), he clicked on the next. And the next. And the next. And when he reached the finale, he could barely wait to see the duel between Helena and the other woman.
Tim didn't even see the shadow of his girlfriend behind him, leaning against the door frame with her phone in hand.
"It is truly heartbreaking," she whispered into the phone, "The disloyalty of boyfriends nowadays. We as girls suffer the breakups and the cheatings, but they get away scot free."
It took a second for him to place Monica's distinct accent. He whipped his head around and found her holding up her phone innocently. There was something lethal in her eyes, but her smile overshadowed it.
"I'm sorry," he responded instantly. "It wasn't for her—"
"I understand completely, Timothy. I was just thinking… Do you think, maybe, it's time for us to tie the knot?"
Tie the knot? It took a while for Tim to realize what Monica was talking about. He winced, Helena's voice quietly ringing in his head. "Why the sudden… eagerness?"
Monica took a step towards him, prompting him to stand. He was always on guard around her. He saw it coming when she replied, "Timothy… Let me be honest with you. I know you've chosen me. I know you've chosen to leave her. But when I see you, watching her..." Monica's voice broke a little before she continued, "I don't trust you."
To Tim, it felt as if the simple words had stabbed him in the gut. Not because she didn't trust him. Because she had a reason not to.
Monica's breath was on his face now. "I want to see you with her. I want you to add her into your script. I want you to face her every day until you can tell me that you don't love her anymore. Please, Timothy."
---
He called her. Tim did. Helena couldn't believe it. It had been years since they'd last spoken about something other than Billy or Nell or Johnny. They shared custody over the kids, -ish. Nell and Billy could choose to either stay with their parents or in the third Belsize Park home. Helena still didn't let them buy a house themselves. So, they swapped between parents every month.
Now he was calling to ask her to play a role in his show, Wednesday. Helena was going to say no. His pleading voice no longer had any effect on her.
"I'm sorry, but—" he begged before she interrupted with attempted lightheartedness.
"There it is again. Sorry, but. That was what you said to me last time, wasn't it," she murmured, trying to laugh. The sound was hollow even to her own ears.
Tim fell silent, and static crackled from the other line. Immediately, Helena wondered whether she'd hurt him. Until she remembered Monica. The new girl. The one who stood distantly by him in every photo, the one who smiled so charmingly at her, the one he'd replaced her with.
"Sorry," she breathed into her phone. Her finger hovered over the End Call button.
"Wait!" Tim said, knowing what she was about to do. He always knew. His voice trembled as he spoke. “Please, Helena.”
The next day, she and her family were on a flight to Los Angeles.
---
"Welcome!" Monica cried, holding the door open with feigned enthusiasm. Helena, her boyfriend, and the children were going to stay in her house during the filming period. Was that fair? No. Was she going to show it and let Helena win? Never.
Helena beamed, hugging her as if they were old friends. "It's so good to see you! I'm Helena Bonham Carter. I recently watched one of your movies, actually. You're a fantastic actress, Monica."
Immediately, a million double meanings flew through Monica's head. Was she implying something?
Still, Monica smiled tightly and suggested, "Call me Moni. Why don't you go upstairs and get ready? It's your first day of filming, and your hair looks like—" a mess— "it could do with some combing."
Helena laughed. Monica cringed. What had Tim ever seen in the girl? Her hair looked like a bird's nest, her eyes looked as if they could barely contain the psychopath in her, and her laugh? Her laugh sounded like a witch's!
Nevertheless, Helena didn't seem to notice. She dragged her luggage up the stairs, the kids exchanging a glance that Monica couldn't interpret. Silly teenagers, she thought as the boy ran up to carry a bag that Helena dropped.
A chuckle and a "thank you" followed, and Monica couldn't help wondering when filming would end.
That night, as she was going to bed, Monica heard the sound of quiet footsteps echoing through the house — Helena. She crept over to the door and pressed her ear against it. The television was switched on downstairs, courtesy of Tim, and Monica could hear the footsteps stop by her own room, at the top of the stairs.
Monica couldn't see what happened next, but then Tim asked in a low voice, "Helena?"
"I'm sorry, I'll just go now," she replied quietly. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, no. It's fine. I couldn't sleep, either."
There was a long moment of silence before Helena continued down the stairs.
The footsteps paused before Tim asked, "How have the kids been this month?"
"Good. They're still learning jiu-jitsu," Helena laughed a little. "Much to their own frustration — How's Johnny?"
"Struggling a little. The whole Amber Heard drama was a lot."
"Mm," Helena murmured in a way of agreement.
There was another beat before Tim asked, "Remember when we brought them all to Disneyland?"
"I thought you hated Disney up until that day."
"Disney isn't evil; just a terrible company to work with."
There was a round of muffled giggling before Helena continued, "When we took Nelly to the Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique, you and Johnny glared at everyone there."
"Not because of Disney. It was because they were all Ken Fans."
"Oh, come on! We broke up two years before I even met you! Besides, only a good man could direct Cinderella. He can't be all that bad."
"Hellie, he cheated on his wife! With you!"
"Emma forgave us. Besides, it was true love!" This time, she didn't bother to disguise her cackling.
"I thought you said we were true love," Tim joked, but suddenly, Helena stopped laughing.
More silence followed, before Helena let out a weak chuckle and Monica heard her rising from the couch. "Well, I suppose it's time to go to bed. And by the way, I bet it's the telly that's keeping me up — these walls are incredibly thin."
"I like thin walls. I need noise to sleep."
Helena smiled. "I know."
Then she left.
The next day came quickly. Monica could hear loud arguments from the dining hall. It seemed as if Helena and Tim couldn't last an hour without fighting! No wonder they divorced.
"Why on Earth would you want Wednesday to wear black on a monster hunt?" Helena exclaimed. "Maybe a dark green, or a sunny yellow…"
Tim sighed. "Hellie. Please, let's not—"
"Let's not? Do you not take suggestions from your—"
"No, it's not that," Tim muttered. "It's just — well, you don't know what I do about the rest of the show, and… the black is symbolism for the shortness of life — and it's a monster hunt, why would — but that's besides the point; Wednesday needs to wear black because she's Wednesday!"
Their debate lasted throughout Monica's morning #GetReadyWithMonica time. As she applied her makeup, comments streamed in, asking, Who's yelling outside?
Monica rolled her eyes as she dabbed a bit of blush onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, that's my fiancé, Tim Burton — maybe you've heard of him?" She applied her lipstick, a nice nude mocha shade. It complemented her dark brown eyes. "He's directed many films… like…" Fortunately, a comment came up as she was smacking her lips to spread the lipstick. "He's currently directing Wednesday 3. He sort of invited his ex over from London just to be in his film. It's quite sweet, but — I know, it's terribly suspicious, isn't it?" She dipped her hairbrush in water and swept it through her long, brown hair. Another comment asked, Who the hell would cheat on u? I <3 u Moni!!! "Aw, thanks so much for the support! I love you too, @HB1C!" She applied a bit of eyeshadow, a purplish shade, almost like dark brown. Maybe with the help of her fans, she wouldn't be suffering too much for the next few weeks.
---
Jenna Ortega walked onto set with her makeup on, her hair in Wednesday's signature braids, and her clothes all black. In other words, she was ready to get rolling. That day, they were filming a scene with her and Gwendoline Christie, and Jenna knew it wouldn't take long for them to start filming — her and Gwen's work ethic was highly respected among the crew.
Correction: she thought she knew. As she entered the studio, a familiar yet unplaceable head of hair stood next to Tim's director chair, talking about the scene they were about to shoot. Tim waved his hands wildly, pointing at this prop and that, but the woman persisted in her argument. Jenna couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but Gwen looked rather irritated.
"What exactly's going on?" Jenna asked her.
"No idea. I think there's been a change in the script. Tim got his ex-girlfriend Helena Bonham Carter to play a role. Their styles are a little different, so…"
That was why Jenna recognized the curly mess! She'd watched nearly all of Helena's movies — except the early period dramas. Jenna frowned. Was that the same woman who was holding them all back from starting? She was a little surprised, but since it was Helena Bonham Carter, Jenna supposed she would try her best to go along with it.
Maybe. The voices started rising, and Jenna could finally hear the exchange.
"You really want to do it in a real car that's really driving?" Helena demanded. "That's far too dangerous!"
"It's not like the car's crashing into a real Hyde, it's just a giant bright green screen!" Tim returned.
"What if it sends the car flying? You don't want Jenna and Gwen to die do you?"
"They have stunt doubles! They know what they're doing!"
"So you're fine with the stunt doubles dying."
"Hellie, nobody's going to die! We have to start filming, we've got a long day ahead and it's already six in the morning. Just say your two lines and roll with it…"
As he was talking, Helena had pulled a small, bright orange gun out from her purse. Jenna's first instinct was to hide. Tim was so involved in his speech, he didn't see her take aim at the bridge of his nose…
"I didn't fly you all the way out here for you to contradict my directing, so please, just get everybody into place and we're going to start—"
And shoot. Jenna was about to scream, until she heard the splash of something other than blood — water.
Both of them froze instantly. Helena slowly lowered the water gun as Tim struggled to form words. His face was all wet and his hair was damp.
The sight of his dark eyes paired with the wetness of his cheeks… Helena couldn't help it. A small giggle escaped her lips as the floodgate of memories was unlocked. Each one hit her with a new wave of laughter, and soon she was doubled over. She could barely hear Tim's shy chuckles over her own, and had no eyes on her orange gun.
So it was a surprise to Helena, when seconds later, a jet of water hit her right on her nose as she lifted her head. Both of them burst out laughing again. There was no way they were getting to work anytime soon.
Jenna groaned. Was every day at work going to be like that?
"I know," Gwen muttered. "We should try to get filming without them — PLACES, EVERYONE!"
It was useless. The cameramen watched, fascinated, as Helena stole the gun right back and shot. Tim picked up a prop box and held it in front of him as a shield, and didn't care at all when the water seeped through. Both couldn't stop laughing.
Though mildly entertained, Jenna asked Gwen, "Is there a chance we could shoot the scene without the rest of the crew?"
"Maybe. We'd have to get the—" Gwen was interrupted by a shriek of her own as a cackling, out-of-control Helena accidentally turned the gun on her. She sighed.
---
Tim knew they had to start filming soon. It was getting late. But he had to decide first — a real car crashing into a green box, or a stationary car with a green screen in front of it?
Before he could choose, Helena spoke up. "You were right. Let's just do the real car."
He almost smiled. Although he might've conceded, a stationary car really wasn't going to cut it.
Minutes later, Tim finally called, "Action!"
17 INT. LARISSA'S CAR — NIGHT
WEDNESDAY stares straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with LARISSA.
WEDNESDAY
How are you still alive?
LARISSA
(Sighing) Did you think Miss Thornhill could kill me with a little Nightshade poisoning? Miss Dawson found me and gave me a dose of atropine.
WEDNESDAY
Who's Miss Dawson?
LARISSA
(Pausing, glancing around) Evelyn Dawson is the new Herbology professor. Miss Thornhill was set to retire anyways.
EVELYN
(Yawning) Hello, Wednesday. Hello, Larissa.
WEDNESDAY
When did you get here?
EVELYN
Oh, I thought Larissa invited me? I was asleep — what's that? (Pointing ahead)
LARISSA screams and WEDNESDAY freezes. The HYDE is standing in front, and the car goes skidding into it as LARISSA desperately spins the steering wheel and EVELYN looks around, confused.
That was how the scene was supposed to go. However, as they began, Helena was heard snoring very loudly from the backseat. Only moments later, Jenna started laughing and Gwen joined in.
"Cut!" Tim yelled. "Hellie, try to tone it down."
Her response was a splash of water to the face, but she listened. Unfortunately, the next take, Helena lay down on the three back seats, very visible to the camera crew.
"Cut!" Tim yelled again. "Could you please sleep while sitting up? Wednesday's not supposed to notice you."
Only after a few takes did Helena finally quietly sleep while sitting up in the backseat of the car. When it came to her own lines, she barely(-ish) improvised: "(Yawning) Oh! Hello, Wednesday! I've heard all about you! I'm so excited to have you in my Herbology class this year — Larissa! Have you told her yet?" and "Huh. I thought Larissa invited me. She told me that day that I could come — but that's besides the point. I was asleep the whole time — oh! Now that's not an ordinary sighting, is it? (Cheerfully pointing at the green box)" and, as Jenna and Gwen screamed she asked, "What? Is it a… bad thing?" And when her scenes were done, she kept the cast entertained while Emma Myers and Jenna continued work.
Overall, it was quite a productive day.
---
When pictures of water fights appeared from Emma's Instagram, Monica was very confused. Why was there a bright orange water gun on the set of Wednesday? The answer was evident as soon as she thought about it:
Helena Bonham Carter.
Monica sighed. Darn woman, couldn't she last a day without picking fights?
Just then, Helena's two children came out of the recording studio with the new boyfriend. They were talking about Tim.
"Rye, did you know that Dad directed nineteen feature films? We should watch them all together!" the son was saying.
"Yes, and Mum was in seven of them," the daughter added.
"Johnny was in eight," he cut in, one-upping the girl.
Monica forced a smile to her face. "Hey, how are you? I haven't learnt your names yet. I'm Monica Bellucci, your dad's fiancée… Do you stay here?"
The girl turned to look at Monica. She smiled slowly, too, but it matched Monica's in terms of sincerity. "Every other month. You must be new here. I'm NBGMMB."
NBGMMB? Monica wondered. Of course Helena would name her daughter random letters. She wanted to shake her head in disapproval, but she had to make a good first impression. Instead, she turned to the son.
"BRB," he said solemnly. His sister started giggling.
More letters, Monica thought. And these made even less sense: was it an acronym for be right back?
The new boyfriend, Rye, sighed heavily. He spoke with an air of superiority and a rather fake posh accent. "That's what they told me too. I think your boyfriend named them. Helena BC is far too artistic for such… horrendous names!"
Monica gasped, holding a hand to her heart. "Please, let's not go there with my future stepchildren. Besides, Tim wouldn't name them that either. Must've been your Helena BC," she mocked.
Rye merely rolled his eyes, before telling NBGMMB and BRB, "Come, I'll buy you all ice cream. What flavor do you want?"
"You don't need to buy any. Dad promised that whenever we come back, he'll have our favorite ice cream in the fridge," BRB assured him.
As the two headed towards the fridge, NBGMMB added, "He knows that in summer, it's a rocky road; in winter, it's vanilla; in spring, it's mint chocolate chip; in fall, it's anything McDonald's."
“But not in Mum’s London house,” BRB turned to Monica like he was sharing celebrity gossip. “From June to August, we can only have chocolate ice cream after jiu-jitsu. For the rest of the year, we take strawberry.”
Monica was barely listening anymore; she’d given up cataloging the ice cream flavors and seasons. She only caught jiu-jitsu. “You all do jiu-jitsu too?” she asked. “I’m an expert in Brazilian jiu-jitsu.”
Both children ignored her, quietly arguing about cups or cones for the plain vanilla ice cream. Monica felt like screaming.
---
Tim and Helena entered the house laughing together. Helena quickly spotted Nell and Billy, running over to hug them.
"How were you for Rye and Monica?" she interrogated, looking them in the eyes.
"Good," they responded automatically.
"Rye let us eat ice cream," Nell chipped in meaningfully, sharing a glance with Billy.
Helena gasped theatrically, turning to Rye. Though her gaze was playful, there was heaviness behind her words. "Rye! You know the kids aren't supposed to have ice cream today. I was counting on you!"
Rye held a hand to his heart. "Did I know that? Même si tu ne voulais pas qu'ils mangent de la glace, tu ne me l'as certainement pas dit!" (Even if you didn't want them to eat ice cream, you certainly didn't tell me!)
"Oh! Votre français s'est amélioré. Duolingo? Eh bien, même si je ne parle pas six langues comme Monica, le français est l'une d'entre elles que je parle couramment. N'essayez pas de me surpasser en français," she replied sharply. (Oh! Your French has been improving. Duolingo? Well, even if I don't speak six languages like Monica, French is one of them which I do speak fluently. Don't try to out-French me.)
Rye glanced around, before giving Helena a sheepish but impressed glance. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. I didn't know you could speak French, Helena BC."
Monica, having heard her own name, decided that was her time to prove herself. "The essence of it was that Helena speaks French too," she translated. "And she asks whether you used Duolingo."
"Oh. Yeah, I've been learning," he replied, no longer as enthusiastic as before.
Meanwhile, Helena turned to her kids. "See?" she jabbed a finger in Rye's direction. "That's why you should start learning French now; you don't want to end up learning it on Duolingo to outdo your future wife-or-husband, do you?"
Nell giggled, shooting an uninterpretable look at Rye. "Yes, that would be truly embarrassing," she agreed.
"Oh, you want to learn French?" Monica asked Nell. "I'm quite fluent. I can teach you and BRB if you want."
As soon as the words left Monica's mouth, Helena started laughing. BRB? She finally understood why her mother had given her a strange look when she heard Billy's full name!
Helena hugged a squirming Billy close to her chest, cackling, "I'm so sorry, honey! I didn't know when I named you—"
She suddenly caught the sound of Monica whispering to Rye, "I told you! My Timothy would never name his kid some random letters."
Helena whipped her head around as Rye hissed, "Helena BC was probably on drugs when she filled out the forms. Besides, I told you the names were horrendous."
It took a second for the words to reach the children. Nell looked up at Helena with puppy dog eyes, trembling wordlessly.
Barely a second later, Helena had let go of both teenagers. If they didn't like hearing Rye call their names ugly, they wouldn't hear it.
"Vous osez insulter mes enfants? Tu ferais mieux de surveiller ton langage, imbécile, ou c'est fini," she snarled. (I believe this needs no translation.) "And that's a threat that I will, without hesitation, follow through with if deemed necessary."
Though Tim couldn't understand exactly what Helena said, he heard the word "imbecile" and almost smiled.
---
That night, Nell rolled over to face Billy on her pink bed. His blue one was barely a metre away from hers.
"Billy!" she murmured.
"What?"
"Can we talk?"
"About today?" Billy asked. "Well, okay. Simply put, it was torture. Rye keeps rambling about his art project — and did you know he's an author too?"
Nell chuckled. "Yeah! Remember his talk about the 'next Van Gogh’ and whatever?"
“He’s so obnoxious! Also, your acting’s incredible. Even Mum actually believed you were crying.”
“Thanks,” Nell mumbled.
---
The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Helena began to lose track of time as she woke up each day. She only wished Johnny had a role, too, for old times’ sake, but she understood why Tim was a little averse to the idea — it was because of the old times.
Meanwhile, she was also beginning to find Monica a little… bubble-bursting, to say the least.
About two weeks through filming, Monica had decided to throw the toy gun away. Four weeks through, she’d decided to go on a vegetable-only diet. To avoid temptation, she got rid of all other foods in the house. A month through, she started calling Tim her husband, kissing him all the time, and leaving Helena to eat alone as she took Tim and her “stepchildren” out for dinner as a “family bonding activity.” Even Rye wouldn’t sit with Helena; he was too busy painting or writing or thinking through philosophical theories.
And despite Helena’s confusion and slight disappointment, she let this all happen. She was willing to let Monica borrow her family for a little while, to let Monica chase her out of the house she’d bought with Tim, because she understood.
Monica was not the villain in Helena’s story; she was the heroine in Tim’s. As much as Helena wished she could hate the woman, she knew that Monica was the one Tim chose.
Not her.
---
Filming was nearing an end. Tim didn’t quite know how he felt about that. Though he knew his work would pay off and fans were anticipating the third season of Wednesday, he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
It had always been a problem of his — sequels, that is. He rarely ever made them, and the last time he tried… He shivered just recalling it.
Alice Through the Looking Glass had been a double curse. In that one film, he mourned the death of both Alan Rickman and his last film with the most beautiful woman in the world, in appearance and heart.
If only…
But Tim knew not to entertain those thoughts. He was dating Monica Bellucci, and he never would’ve married Helena Bonham Carter. She would’ve said no. She did say no.
He was only sorry that Monica had to constantly feel like second place — and that despite their combined effort, neither of them might even survive another thirteen years…
Depressing tears from those all around Tim snapped him back to the present. He wasn’t dying alongside Monica. He was directing the last episode of Wednesday 3. And that scene had been going on for nearly eight minutes, since he’d forgotten to call cut.
When he finally did, he caught the eye of Helena. She was just another mourner in the funeral, but he was surprised she hadn’t done anything — improvised, asked to say a few words, and run up to hug the coffin.
Helena was different that day. She never once threatened to buy another water gun or to fill their house with pink Valentine’s Day hearts from last year. She was quiet.
Tim walked over to the set, watching as tears dried up and Jenna stood up from her chair. Everyone started cheering, and for a moment, Tim forgot where he was. Umbrellas flew into the air, and even Helena chuckled a little at the relieved cast and crew.
Though perhaps that was the most concerning part. Helena never did anything a little. She was the storm and the sun — either lightyears away from Earth, her light still shining through the thick atmosphere, or on the very ground they walked, wreaking havoc.
Tim didn’t spare it a second thought as he joined Helena by the fake headstone and embraced her. He didn’t wonder if it was the last time he’d see her, or whether she and Rye would be married the next time they met.
He only stood.
Next to her, he saw it all: Helena was afraid, too. She didn’t know whether it was the last time she’d see him, or if he and Monica would have children of their own the next time they met.
But she only stood.
---
“Timothy!” Monica cried as he returned home with Helena. Deciding it was best to disregard the ex, she kissed him on both cheeks and helped him put his coat on the coat rack. “How was the last day of work, cuore mio?”
Helena smiled, and Monica wondered whether she thought Monica had spoken to her. It was laughable. Besides, Monica thought, she’d do the same if she were me.
“Filming was great today!” Helena replied cheerfully. Was she always happy? “We’re going out tonight to do karaoke — wanna join?”
It evidently pained her to offer, though she seemed to be trying her best to hide it. Helena really was a terrible actress.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Monica wondered suspiciously.
Tim, catching on, quickly corrected, “‘We’ as in the whole cast. Not… just me and Hellie — Helena.”
Hellie. A cute nickname, wasn’t it? He still refused to call Monica ‘Moni’ and she refused to call him ‘Tim.’ Timothy sounded fancier and more pleasing. Tim sounded like some balding old man.
Monica, relaxing just a little, finally declared, “No thanks. I’ll stay home with Rye and the kids.”
---
Jenna was a little reluctant to go to the karaoke session, but Gwen and Emma convinced her it would be a good idea. She couldn’t believe filming was over already, but she supposed the party would make it all a little more real.
On the other hand, Jenna was so glad they were done, because there was no way she could sit through more of Tim and Helena. She complained about something, he fought back mostly just for the heck of it, she’d threaten to burn down his world or something similar. If only they’d just gotten married, they’d never have broken up, and they’d never have started arguing.
Plus, it seemed as if — maybe Jenna was delusional — but it seemed as if they were both still trying to pretend they never loved each other. And that they didn’t love each other.
In conclusion, Jenna was ready for torture when she entered the room. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t the earliest. In fact, she was the latest.
Starting around at her friends from the past years, she mustered up a great big smile and asked, “So, what songs would you guys like to play?”
Immediately, a list of Taylor Swift came from Emma Myers. Somebody also said “Dance Monkey,” a few added Lady Gaga, a bit of Olivia Rodrigo and Gracie Abrams, one or two Sabrina Carpenter songs, some Alan Walker, Coldplay, Backstreet Boys, and a whole lot of other random songs.
Jenna really didn’t want to sing at first.
“TELL ME WHY AIN’T NOTHING BUT A HEAAARTACHE,” someone (presumably Helena) was screaming, “TELL ME WHY AIN’T NOTHING BUT A MIIISTAKE! TELL ME WHY I NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU SA-AY THAT III WANT IT THAAAT WAY!”
Gwen didn’t sing much either. She only joined in during the Adele songs and “My Heart Will Go On.” She had a surprisingly powerful voice, but Emma was louder and considerably worse, with a fake posh accent.
“OOONCE mow… yew OOOpen the DOOOW… yew ah HEEERE in mah HAWT and… my hawt wiiill gO OOON aaaand ooooon…”
Nevertheless, it seemed like they were all having fun, and when “get him back” by Olivia Rodrigo started playing, Jenna sang along with as much muchness as Emma and Helena — or almost. Or really, just a fraction of it.
Joy Sunday almost overpowered them all when "I Love You, I'm Sorry" started playing. It was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good, because her voice sounded a lot like Gracie Abrams. Bad, because Helena was still louder.
"AND I'LL HAVE A DRINK, WISTFULLY LEAN OUT MY WINDOW AND WATCH THE SUN SET ON A LAKE," they competed. Each time a voice rose, so would the other. Jenna felt like sticking needles in her ears — it would still be less painful than listening to them sing.
Fortunately, as they got to the next song, "right where you left me," both girls' voices had dropped. In fact, by "If you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me," Jenna couldn't even hear Helena.
It almost made Jenna suspicious — but it was all in her own head, wasn't it?
And when Helena returned to normal after "New Romantics" started playing, it nearly vanquished all doubts from Jenna's mind.
---
It was a miracle Helena had decided to walk rather than bike, because her agent, Nicola, gave her a call as she was on her way home.
"Hey Hellie!" Nicola greeted.
"Hi, what's up?"
"How's Wednesday been going?"
"Great — filming has just wrapped up."
"That's wonderful news, because Disney's just offered you a new role in the Sleeping Beauty live action!" Nicola exclaimed. "Should I tell them you're down? Because—"
"Wait," Helena interrupted. "Who would I be playing? Has the rest of the cast been settled yet? Where is it filming?"
"Well, they would like for you to play Maleficent… It's filming in Qatar — some dry country in the Middle East, I think—"
"No, thanks."
Nicola sighed, evidently not ready to give up yet. "I'm sorry, but this is one of the biggest roles you're being offered."
"I'm sorry, too," Helena said, about to end the call.
"Wait! Please, Helena, this may be the last one—"
Helena rolled her eyes. "Nic, I hired you to listen to me ramble on about my life and kids, not to find jobs for me."
"What? Why is that news to me?" Nicola huffed. "I'm your agent—"
Helena ended the call, humming the rest of the way home. Nicola's begging had no effect on her. She hated the heat of countries near the Middle East and anyone who knew her at all would never bother to talk to her about it.
---
When Helena returned home, Tim was watching Alice in Wonderland with Monica — her suggestion, of course, to make him get over Helena.
"Off with their heads!" the Red Queen was shouting when Helena made her way into the room. Nell and Billy were sitting on the floor — again, Monica's suggestion to make room for the elderly on the couch. Rye was nowhere in sight, likely painting or writing.
Helena sat down on the floor next to her kids, ignoring the empty spot between Monica and Tim. She didn't for a second wonder why there was such a big gap between them, only noticing the large bowl of popcorn that sat in said gap.
---
Monica got the call at seven the next morning. She couldn't believe Helena would turn down the role of Maleficent, and while she was flattered that she was second choice, she didn't want to live the rest of her life as the second choice.
Rather, she wanted to leave Helena since Helena didn't seem to want to leave Los Angeles. If Helena was refusing Sleeping Beauty because of its ridiculously hot filming location, that was where Monica and Tim would go.
"Tim, let's go on a vacation," Monica suggested randomly one day. "I have just the place in mind."
The next minute, Tim was booking first class flights to Qatar. He didn't question her choice of destination. Frankly, he didn't care. He wasn't really listening at all; his mind was elsewhere, at stop signs and the ends. He would've gone along with anything Monica told him to do at that day and hour.
He didn't think for a second that this vacation would bring his time with Helena and his own kids closer to "the end."
---
They checked in on Monday evening. The hotel was not grand or fancy, but it looked rather comfortable despite its size.
The woman at the front desk, Ivanna Olivers, gave them a key card that was labelled 203. "Thank you for staying with us at Tranquility Lodging and Amenities. If you would like to donate—"
"No thanks," Monica interrupted. "We'll see you around."
The room was not large. It had a single queen bed, a bathroom, two bedside tables, a small kitchen, and a television. The room had a decent view of the ocean, and the bathroom had a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
"Not bad," Monica remarked, sitting elegantly on the edge of the bed. "We're going to have a fabulous time here."
Tim was about to agree when he heard a guitar and singing from Room 204.
"You're a ray of sunshine, nothing but," the voice sang, "A pair of wings on my back. I'm just a boy on a skateboard… With two patches on my knee caps — two patches on my knee caps."
Monica held back a sigh of exasperation. After all, what had she expected? It was only $950 per night. Of course the walls were paper thin.
"...I'm hooolding on… To the memories we haaad, 'cause I'm suuure I will fudge this thing up… The first chance I have…"
Monica wished she hadn't suggested this hotel. "CAN YOU PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN?" she shouted into the wall.
"Wait!" Tim told Monica, "I know that voice… It's… Um… I think it was… Maybe it was a waiter?"
"It's actually Tom Felton!" the voice called back. "Are you fans?"
Monica turned pale. "Oh no."
---
"Guess what, Helena BC?" Rye asked as she walked into the room. "I booked us an early honeymoon trip! All on me."
Helena frowned. "Honeymoon? I didn't know we got married."
Rye shrugged. "I was going to ask… But I know you have a thing against marriage or something. So we'll pretend we're already husband and wife." He looked quite proud of himself for remembering that Helena didn't want to get married.
Helena herself was a little annoyed that Rye assumed she wanted to be his forever. However, she went along with it for the sake of their game of pretend.
"Where are we going?"
"It's a divine country around the Persian Gulf."
Helena didn't bother asking where the Persian Gulf was. If Rye was offering her a free holiday, she'd take it.
"BILLY! MOLLY!" she yelled.
"Who are Billy and Molly?" Rye asked.
"Oh! Darn it, I forgot we settled on Nell instead. NELL!"
Both children raced up the stairs, Billy getting there a split second before Nell.
"What is it, Mum?" Nell asked.
"We're going on holiday. To the Gulf."
Billy coughed. "Um… Which gulf?"
Helena waved her hand in the air. "Gulf of Mexico, Persian Gulf, it's all the same."
This time, Rye cleared his throat. "Actually, the Gulf of Mexico is just South of—"
"Sure. Well, when are we leaving?"
"Friday night..."
"Got it. Kids, be packed by Friday night."
The kids shared a look. Nell whispered something to Billy before reluctantly telling Helena, "Actually, we were thinking of flying out to the house in Belsize Park today… It's been quite a few months with you and Dad… and Rye and Monica… and we think we need a break." She shrugged apologetically.
If Helena was hurt, she didn't show it.
---
Ivanna Olivers gave them a key card that was labelled 202. "Thank you for staying with us at Tranquility Lodging and Amenities. If you would like to donate, please scan the QR code over here."
Helena pulled out her phone, searching for the scanner app. "How do I scan it?" she asked.
Taking the phone, Ivanna went to the Camera app and hovered it just over the QR code. After pressing a link, it led to the donation website and Ivanna returned the phone.
"So… Should I donate five hundred or so?" Helena wondered, before keying it in and confirming the payment. Even if she absolutely hated the heat of the island, the poor hotel looked a little short on staff.
They proceeded to the room. As soon as Helena flopped onto the massive queen bed, Rye left the room with the key card to go for a walk. Helena didn't want to join him; she was halfway through Crime and Punishment, and though it was getting a little boring, she needed to get through it.
The moment Rye left, Helena received a phone call, coincidentally perfectly timed.
"Hi Helena, it's Jenna," she greeted. "I called because filming has ended and I wanted to let you know how great it was to work with you."
"Aw, thanks!" Helena cried. "It was an honour working with you too."
"Thanks. I grew up watching your movies and shows — you were, like, an idol to eleven year old me. I loved Sweeney Todd, watched it when I was, maybe eight or nine? So it was truly incredible to get to film with you, and I'm so glad Tim got you in Wednesday 3."
Helena tensed. What did Tim have to do with anything? "So am I…" she muttered halfheartedly. "He's great. Very hardworking, very dark… Very sweet, too." Helena laughed bitterly at her own words, thinking of the drawings he'd left with her.
"Yeah… Um, are you alright?" Jenna asked, her voice softer and a little uncomfortable.
"Very," Helena replied unconvincingly. One might think an actress would be slightly better at lying than she was. It was no surprise to either girl when she admitted barely a second later, "Not really. I'm confused. Karaoke was a mess. Who knew singers were actually relatable?"
Tick. Tick. Tick. At last, Jenna wondered, "Is this about Tim?"
"How could you guess," Helena joked sarcastically.
"I'm sorry. But — you have to forgive me for asking — if you still like him, why are you dating that art historian — what was his name? Ron—"
"Rye. Rye Dag Holmboe. He's very mature for his age, and I do like him too."
There was another pause before Jenna finally said, "Okay. If you're sure he has a shot at being your forever…"
Forever is a vow spoken only to be broken.
"Yeah, thanks again for calling," Helena hastily hung up.
A moment later, Jenna sent a text linking the playlist the Wednesday cast had compiled for the karaoke session. Helena didn't tap on it.
She contemplated everything Jenna had told her. And she knew instantly that she had to break up with Rye Dag Holmboe.
---
Rye re-entered the room near six in the evening. The sun was setting and the pinkish sky prepared him for a warm welcome from his dear Helena.
Instead, he was greeted by a terse "We need to talk."
Rye braced himself. That was never a good thing, having to talk.
"Yes?" he asked.
Helena inhaled. Held it. Exhaled. "Rye, we're not going to make it."
A million thoughts ran through his mind at once. What was going to happen? Was she predicting the coming of Christ? Or a crashing plane? Did she mean they were going to commit a double suicide?
He didn't want to commit suicide! He was too young to die. He needed to call a helpline — or the police!
"No," he declared.
"What?" Helena wondered. "What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I'm not committing double suicide with you."
To his surprise, Helena started laughing at once. "What makes you think I'd want to commit suicide? Do I seem that unhappy to you?"
"Well, you said — so — what?" Rye stuttered, unable to form a sentence.
Almost immediately, Helena stopped laughing. She kept a neutral expression and Rye couldn't read anything past her careful smile. Finally, she clarified, "We have to break up."
Rye was lost for words. What did she mean? Why? Was it because he'd taken a five hour walk? Helena knew he loved his long walks, didn't she? It gave inspiration. It gave clarification. It gave enlightenment!
He didn't hear himself ask, but Helena clearly did. She took another deep breath before answering, "I haven't been fully committed to you alone."
She was having an affair. He knew it. And it was that darn Hollywood guy, Timothée Chalamet or something!
"It's him, isn't it?" Rye muttered darkly.
She merely gave a single, tiny nod.
"Why can't we just get married and move to a house somewhere far away from him? You can forget him. He doesn't need to know, you don't need to tell him everything!" Rye snapped.
"I don't. I'm trying, I swear I'm trying. This past year has just… uncovered the truth. I've been stringing you along, even though I don't love you," she insisted, speaking calmly but emphasising the last three words. The small frown on her face was the very appearance of a cool and collected woman on a mission to break up with her boyfriend.
"Well, then let's get married! It'll solve everything. Marriage is a bond, a promise of forever—"
"With me, forever is a vow spoken only to be broken," she murmured unthinkingly, before catching herself. She drew in another breath, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Sorry."
Rye could barely hear her now, and the thin walls were like soundproof barriers. He could only hear Helena. "Wh-what do you have against marriage? You have no past trauma or anything, it has nothing to do with me, there are millions — billions — of people like you who get married—"
"They trust themselves!" she asserted. "Why can't you just accept that we're not going to make it?"
"No, I just want to know why you can't get married!" Rye yelled.
Still maintaining her composure, she put her thin smile on again. She reasoned slowly as if speaking to a child, "I'm a Gemini. I'm flighty, indecisive, inconsistent, impatient, unreliable, immature and scattered. I can't commit to you, and you wouldn't be able to commit to me. Trust me, after even half the time I spent with — him, you would be going crazy. It would drive you crazy, it would drive me crazy… Simplicity kept us together. It defined our relationship, it allowed us to have fun. Simplicity is what we needed. Because when an idea as crazy as marriage comes up in a relationship, we all need to be mature and decisive about it and I can't be. I can't last through marriage with anyone. It would only end in pain a hundred times worse than anything we would face now…"
Rye wasn't sure if Helena was still talking about them. The look in her eyes, the cracks in her mask, the slight newfound sincerity in her smile… He could never have made her look that way. That was how he knew.
She wasn't thinking about him anymore.
It was Tim again.
It would always be Tim.
At last, Rye let out a soft sigh. "Goodbye, Helena Bonham Carter."
He packed his luggage and left the room.
---
Helena wasn't mad at herself for ending things with Rye. She wasn't mad at how easily he gave in. She wasn't mad that he'd left her alone, or that he didn't fight for them, or that he seemed perfectly acquainted with the prospect of never seeing her again.
She wasn't even sad about that.
The only thing she had to regret was that it was all for nothing. Breaking a heart, ending five years of her life, it wasn't going to change anything about her future. The only one she truly loved, he wouldn't come back to her just because she was newly single.
He wasn't. He was never going to be again, because he had a future to look forward to, another woman to love.
It wouldn't be Helena.
It would never be Helena.
I suppose, if one good thing came out of ending that relationship, at least Rye has another shot with someone more his age, she thought to herself. It didn't make her feel jealous or happy for him. Truthfully, though he was a nice companion to have intellectual debates with, there were only so few intellectual debates she could have before tiring of it.
As a matter of fact, Helena was rather tired of even thinking. She couldn't anymore. Thinking required mental presence. She wasn't sure if she was stable enough. A stable person wouldn't be mourning a relationship they'd never cared for.
Though, a stable person might mourn the relationship they'd never be able to reach.
Impulsively, she turned to her phone and tapped on the link Jenna had sent. The first song that played was "happiness" by Taylor Swift.
She didn't bother humming along when Taylor started singing, "Honey, when I'm above the trees, I see this for what it is. But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given are just things we're dividing up."
She did put a little extra thought into the verse, "I can't make it go away by making you the villain."
Despite her lack of emotion for Rye, she linked him to that song in her head. Her relationship with Rye was toxic. She loved another guy, he cared nothing to learn about her, but she still hated the way she'd wasted five years of her life.
And through all of that, she was the villain. Rye contributed nothing to the break up. It was all her.
But as she sang the last verses, Helena let go. Though she didn't believe in the coming happiness, she let go of the past fifteen minutes, the past sorrow and past regrets.
Rye was over. Rye was gone. Helena was free again.
Then the next song started playing, and Rye took a back seat in her mind. It was "I Love You, I'm Sorry." Helena contentedly reminisced about the karaoke session with Joy…
She'd barely paid any attention to the lyrics back then. But now, as the tortured voice of Gracie Abrams hung in the air without the loud singing of the cast of Wednesday in the background, Helena heard every word.
In her head, she saw only one person.
It wasn't Rye.
It would always be Tim.
Softly, she began to sing along. "You were the best, but you were the worst. As sick as it sounds, I loved you first. I was a prick, it is what it is — a habit to kick, the age old curse. I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad. I stare at the crash, it actually works. Making amends, this stuff never ends, I'm wrong again, wrong again…"
---
Helena was there. She was always there, and there was nothing Tim could do about it. He knew Monica was upset, but Tim knew Helena had suffered enough. Rye was gone; five years of her life were.
In his dream world, Tim would go to Helena. He'd hug her again, buy her an island for comfort, bring her out for dinner with Nell and Billy. He'd go back to her.
But that wasn't possible. Helena couldn't forgive him, and he couldn't take back what he hadn't said that fateful night.
---
Ten years, eight months, twenty-one days, and two hours ago…
December, 2014. Winter. Raining on the streets of Belsize Park.
"Dark Shadows was fun, wasn't it?" Helena asked, making gun motions with her hands.
Tim nodded wordlessly; he was thinking. Thinking about water guns and sets, about whimsicality and focus, about Geminis and Virgos. Virgos were detail-oriented, organized, and responsible. Geminis were curious, restless, and sociable.
More than anything, Virgos needed order while Geminis needed freedom.
A Virgo like Tim couldn't give a Gemini like Helena exactly what she wanted. That whole day, he'd been trying to work on Alice Through the Looking Glass. They hadn't started filming yet, but Helena hadn't understood that he still needed to sort everything out for the actors to even begin.
Virgos and Geminis weren't supposed to work.
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Helena told him gently, "But we do, don't we? We aren't what people expect us to be. We rewrote the stars all by ourselves."
Tim swallowed the rising bile. "Yeah."
But that wasn't what he'd meant.
He meant that they'd been fools to think they could live together forever. She couldn't commit to him, and he couldn't stand the unknown future. They couldn't work. All along, some part of him had known when she bought the water guns, when she accidentally ruined his copy of the script, when she fought with and against him at the same time.
Helena and Tim weren't meant to be.
"Hellie…" he started carefully. "Hellie, we didn't do that. The stars are… Light years away from us. They're out of reach, and we can't change them. No one can rewrite the stars."
She was starting to understand now. She halted under a streetlight, blinking rapidly. "Do not," she whispered, "Quote The Greatest Showman and use it against me."
"I'm not trying to," he protested.
Helena felt as if the air was being squeezed out of her. She tensed as the beating of her own heart pounded in her own ears. He was breaking his promise of forever.
But she knew that if she cried, it was all over. "Why?" she asked quietly.
He didn't have to tell. She knew.
"It's my fault, isn't it?" she laughed emptily. And as she forced a smile to her face, she lost it. Tears blurred her vision, streaming down her face and ruining her makeup more than the rain had. "It always is."
"No — that's not—"
"I can't promise I'll change. If the problem is me, then there's nothing we can do to fix us, is there?"
"Wait—"
"Tim, there is no 'us' anymore, is there? Well, if you're done, I'll have to be, too, right? If I'm too disruptive for you, there's no way we'll work, is there?"
As he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a finger. "I'm not asking for answers. I'm asking for time to get over this before this is over."
"I'm sorry, but we can't keep going on like this. Every time I try to get work done that doesn't involve you—"
"Please, I just need time. You can end things with me in time—"
"You keep interrupting and I just can't finish my work—"
"And we'll be happy to part. I don't want—"
"I need space. We both need space, and we'll work better—"
"To disturb you either, but I need—"
"Apart. Helena, I have to leave you—"
"WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE?" Helena yelled into the otherwise silent night.
She never yelled. It made her throat feel tighter and her tears fall faster. They tasted salty and painful.
"Tim, I just need time. Let's stay together a few more days. Give me a week more of normal, and then we can say—" she choked on the word, "Goodbye."
It was a tempting offer. Tim didn't want to leave, either. He didn't want them to end, but he knew it was coming. Thirteen years, seven movies, and a world of chaos ago, he was an ordinary man living an orderly life.
Some of his best films were before Helena. He did have fun with her, but that wasn't the life he wanted, was it?
"I'm sorry," he repeated, pulling her close and kissing her.
But it wasn't a kiss of desperation or desire. It was letting go. It was an acknowledgement of the good and a spotlight on the bad, a testimony to the promise of never.
It was goodbye.
"I love you," she whispered between sobs.
He pulled away and walked home as fast as he could.
After all, that was the ending written in the stars…
Wasn't it?
---
Ten years, eight months, twenty-one days, and two hours later…
October, 2025. Autumn. Sunny in Qatar.
And he'd meant every word he said. Even though he regretted saying them, he wished Helena had never heard them, he'd meant them with all his heart.
But part of him wondered if he’d mean them now. Even though they were better apart, now he wished only for Helena and Helena alone. None of the fame in the world, none of the money, could make him happy like she could. No supermodel, no pretty woman, could make him feel the way she could.
Her voice was soft from the other room. "Tightrope" from The Greatest Showman was playing.
"Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go. We're walking a tightrope…"
Helena was not a fantastic singer. She didn't have a large vocal range or a powerful voice. She sometimes didn't even get the lyrics right.
However, she had emotion. Every word in every song that Helena sang held a secret that tempted every listener. This time, Tim already knew everything. The heartbreak in her tone was not a mystery. The subdued volume of her singing had obvious reasons. The way she still sounded louder than the song made perfect sense.
Monica knew. She took one look at his face and told him in a rare moment of defeat, "I can't win, can I? Go to her. As long as you'll come back to me."
---
"Never sure… Will you catch me, if I should fall?" Helena asked the sky, keeping to the beat in her head — or perhaps it was the beat of her heart. She wasn't expecting an answer, but then she heard a knock on the door.
Was it Rye? Helena hoped not. She wished him well, but hoped he wouldn't come back to her. She pressed pause on the music and made her way to the door, her bedroom slippers shuffling noisily on the floor.
As she peered through the peephole, she gasped.
It was him. Tim.
If it had been Rye, she would've asked what he wanted. If it had been Monica, she would've pretended not to hear the knocking. If it had been the guy in 204, she would've politely told him to come back at a better time.
But the person was Tim.
In his face, she could read the apology and the pain and the longing. She could read the hurt and the regret and the self-deprecation in his eyes, the sorrow and the confusion and the curiosity in his silence.
She let him in. She let the tears fall, let the bed catch her. She let him pull her up and to him, let him hug her to his chest and comb through her hair. She let him see the agony he'd inflicted on her a decade ago.
She was numb now. It felt like watching a slasher film, like watching a woman being cut up into pieces.
But the woman wasn't her.
---
Tim could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Helena cry: twice. One time when he'd broken her heart, and the other time, the very moment he was living.
He could tell she was gone. Her large eyes were empty and her small frame was lifeless. She wasn't to have a funeral or to be buried. She was only dead in heart.
That was a hundred times worse. If she'd physically died, it wouldn't have been Tim's fault. This time, he had to live knowing that he'd killed a woman's soul.
And that, he couldn't do.
Helena stopped crying after a while. He still didn't let go. Once he did, he knew that it would be the end.
Tim wasn't ready for the end.
Tim was born a Virgo: prepared, perfectionistic, and overthinking. He found this description of himself quite accurate.
Meanwhile, Helena was born a Gemini: communicative, restless, and quick-thinking. He found this description of her quite accurate, too.
These were usually the rules that their relationship ran by. Helena would spontaneously suggest something, Tim would think about it for far too long, they would come to no conclusion. However, this time, Tim wasn't thinking at all.
He kissed her on the lips.
Helena tasted like forever and never, like once upon a time and the end. She tasted like happy tears and miserable laughs. She was a vow spoken only to be broken, a promise never uttered yet kept by all.
At that moment, she was his.
---
Helena didn't want to let go, ever. She'd seen it coming. She just didn't think Tim would be the one to do it.
Now he was all she knew, and she held on to him like he was her last lifeline. Because Tim was careful recklessness, unspoken truths, meaningful emptiness, and everything in her universe.
He was home.
It was clear that they wouldn't last. Too often they clashed and too often they fought. Too often they argued and too often they shot without reason. Too often, Helena had doubted. Too often, Tim doubted too. Too often, Tim gave in to her silliness without understanding it. Too often, she ruined what he built without seeing it.
Helena pulled away first. That kiss was wrong. Even though it felt right, it contradicted everything she knew except one thing: she was trouble.
"I ruined Ken and Emma's relationship," she breathed, careful not to let Monica hear. "Don't let me ruin yours, too."
Tim nodded. He stood up without another word and walked towards the door. Just before he left, he told her, "I'm sorry."
When he closed the door, she broke down all over again.
He hadn't apologised for kissing her. He hadn't apologised for ending things with her. He hadn't even apologised for starting things with her.
He'd apologised for hurting her.
---
To everyone's great surprise, two extra people were added to Tim and Monica's dinner the next day. Tom Felton from 204 had requested to speak with Tim about breaking into Hollywood, while Monica had actually invited Helena to dine with them.
Helena didn't quite know what to wear, but she supposed her best dress would do. Tom, on the other hand, wore what he always did to fancy restaurants — a blue V-neck shirt with jeans.
"Thank you so much for letting me come…" he was saying during the car ride.
"...And even though Emma and I were best friends, we didn't, like, ask to be in the same films or anything…" he was saying on their way into the restaurant.
"…So I was hoping you might be my big ticket, you know?" he finally said when they got seated. When the waiter stared a second too long at the group, Tom asked him, "Would you like my autograph?"
"Uh — no thanks," the waiter replied. Tom realised only then that the guy had been staring at Helena — not him. He understood. Everybody had a crush on Helena.
"You know, I had a crush on her too, way back when Emma liked me," Tom admitted conversationally. The waiter quickly scampered away after hastily dropping the menus on the table.
Everyone was silent. Tim was staring at Tom with a hard look (he must've been hungry or something). Monica was glancing around disgustedly (teenagers, right?). Helena was shifting around in her seat (Tim must've made her feel very uncomfortable — yes, Tom knew their HISTORY).
"I'll get a spaghetti bolognese," Monica announced out of the blue.
They were taking orders now? "Hmmm…" he said. "Everything looks so good! But I think I'll get the… Lemon chicken."
"Sounds like we're ready to order," Helena stated cheerily, calling over the waiter. "We'll get a spaghetti bolognese, a lemon chicken, a rigatoni carbonara, plain farfalle, an English breakfast tea — milk first, one sugar — and a Dr. Pepper."
The waiter furiously scribbled everything down, trying to keep up. Meanwhile, Monica glanced over at Helena. "You eat all that?"
"I'm eating as much as you," she replied, bewildered.
"No, you're having two meals and two drinks."
"Oh! No, that's just…" her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to say. "Tim's order."
"You know each other's orders?" Monica asked. "How sweet! By the way, I watched that one — the wizard movie — on the plane, your acting is amazing! Soprattutto quando è fondamentale. Suppongo che tutti i bugiardi siano così…"
Neither Tom nor Helena — nor Tim — understood what Monica had said, but they all laughed anyways. Monica smiled angelically.
"That's an Italian quote. It means, 'We're practically family with how similar we are. I hope that one day you will accept me.'"
"I really do, Moni," Helena said, smiling.
Only Tim noticed the sharp, lying glint in Monica's eyes.
---
Two years later…
Helena and Tim had parted in the airport two years ago. Helena's flight was back to London, while Tim's was to Los Angeles with Monica.
Both were healing, both were letting go, but both swore to themselves to never forget.
Helena still refused to date anyone, though she kept in contact with Jenna, Emma Myers, and Joy. They were good fun, and Helena occasionally met up with them in Los Angeles for karaoke or water gun fights. Sometimes Jenna would talk to her over the phone about everything dark and kooky (including Tim). Mostly, Helena tried to convince her to set up a Tinder account.
One day, all of them decided to meet in London instead. She drove them from the airport back to her house, and they turned on Wednesday 3.
Midway through binging the series, Jenna got up and asked Helena to direct her to the bathroom. She'd just finished a small bowl of jalapeño popcorn and needed to wash her hands before starting on chips.
As she entered the bathroom, two things caught her attention.
A faded drawing of a boy with a mouth that was sewn together sat, framed, above the sink with a poem next to it saying, "I want to kiss her so passionately and deeply, but I'm in a rut. You see, it's hard to give kisses when your mouth is sewn shut."
The other drawing was the same, though it looked a little newer and the poem was different. It said, "I did something bad and my girlfriend doesn't know what. Don't worry about it — you see, my mouth is sewn shut."
The faintest smile spread across Jenna's face.