wuhluhsuh

[wuhluhsuh]

my favorite author back with my crush 🤭

rewind | chaewon x reader, part one

⁍song: rewind - wonder girls ⁍genre: non!idol AU, ghost!chaewon. angsty, fluffy, heavy slowburn! ⁍a/n: this is the first part of a multipart series. ⁍w.c: 14.3k ⁍warnings: mentions of death, uncomfortable family dynamics, mentions of homophobia. ⁍synopsis:

it's 1987 and you're living the life your parents planned for you. you're about to graduate high school, working part-time at the local bowling alley, and edging closer to an arranged marriage with the son of your parents' practice partner. everything feels mapped out and inevitable. but, then you miraculously meet kim chaewon: the supermodel who died in 1984. needless to say, your world was about to be turned upside down.

seoul, 1987

somewhere near the han river, a truck rumbles down a side street with its radio still playing, the tail end of cho yong-pil’s voice fading beneath the squeal of tires and the hiss of brakes. across the road, a row of vending machines flicker under a line of apartment balconies, one of them buzzing louder than the others. someone leans out their window to shout at a kid balancing on the back of a bike, and the boy only laughs, too fast for the scolding to catch up.

storefronts are open late, spilling light onto the sidewalks where kids in puffer jackets linger around payphones and newsstands. the corners of posters curl in the heat, faces of celebrities smiling from behind smudged glass. kim wan-sun in sequins. lee moon-sae in his round glasses. everyone looks a little too perfect in still photographs, like they don’t sweat or get tired or feel anything heavier than the heat of walking a red carpet. near the bus terminal, a woman in heels walks quickly, arms full of groceries, her hair held in place with more hairspray than structure. a cassette player clipped to her purse clicks softly as the song changes. she doesn’t notice. the streets are far too loud. 

on the roof of an old building, a group of students pass around a bag of tteokbokki wrapped in newspaper. they talk about their finals like they’re still far away. someone swears they saw cho yong-pil outside mbc last week. someone else says they heard he’s getting married. no one agrees, but the debate passes time while the sky shifts. it’s been doing that lately, turning pink at the edges before evening settles in, folding itself into the windows like steam off rice.

beneath it all, the buildings lean close together, cracked paint and rusted rails giving every street a sense of being halfway between old and new. payphones ring and no one answers. school uniforms hang on laundry lines. people keep moving. songs keep playing. posters get torn down and replaced.

in the middle of it all, a girl was going to meet a ghost. she just didn’t know it yet.

the light in your room is soft and warm, slipping through the gauzy white curtains your mother said made the place look unfinished. everything glows faintly under the late afternoon sun, and the dust in the air floats like glitter, stirred gently by the slow rotation of the ceiling fan.

outside, the city is a soft noise in the distance. it’s spring now, warm enough to open the windows, cool enough that your arms still get goosebumps if you sit too close to the glass. somewhere nearby, a bus rumbles by. a dog barks twice, sharp and rhythmic. you hear the clink of metal as someone adjusts a drying rack on their balcony. there’s a faint whistle too, thin and familiar, maybe from the rice cake vendor who usually stops in front of the building across the street around this time.

your vinyl player clicks. side b of the bangles tape starts with a soft hiss and pop, warped slightly from overuse. you stole it from sakura’s cousin last summer during a sleepover and just never gave it back. they both know, but neither of them have mentioned it. the sound isn't perfect anymore, but the songs feel embedded in your bones now. they play like background noise in your body.

kazuha is stretched out across your bed with her chin propped in her hands and her legs swinging slowly behind her. your mother would probably say something about posture if she saw. the vogue korea magazine in front of kazuha has been open to the same page for at least ten minutes. her hair is still damp from her earlier shower, leaving a dark spot on your pillow, and she smells like your shampoo because she never brings her own. you haven’t said anything about it and you’re not going to.

“god, you’ve played this tape so many times the vocals are starting to fade,” kazuha says without looking up.

“it’s not fading,” you reply. “you just have no taste.”

“your dog is disgustingly pampered,” sakura adds from the floor. she’s sitting cross-legged with hotdog curled up contentedly in her lap. the brown dachshund lies on his back, belly exposed, eyes barely open. his paws twitch with each pass of her thumb behind his ears. she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with some baseball team’s logo and a red smear from her lollipop stains the corner of her lip.

you still remember the day your dad brought hotdog home. you were fourteen, in your defense, and absolutely horrific with names. you reach out and give him a quick scritch, then drop your hand and lean back in your chair with a small sigh.

“he’s well-adjusted,” you say.

“he tried to bite the milk delivery guy this morning,” sakura says.

“he did bite him,” kazuha adds.

you shrug. “he knew something we didn’t.”

kazuha glances up and arches a brow. “is this your way of validating your complicated non-feelings for he-who-will-not-be-named?”

“ah yes,” sakura says. “hotdog and his divine ability to sniff out men like soobin and all their pressed linen and moral purity.”

the mention of soobin drags a groan out of you before you can help it. it scratches up from somewhere deep, like it’s been sitting there all week waiting for someone to say his name. “exactly,” you say, emphatic and in no means trying to hide your frustration. 

soobin was nice. frustratingly nice. the kind of polite that made adults beam and strangers trust him with directions. you knew that. you weren’t denying it. he held doors open and remembered birthdays and complimented your mom’s banchan like it was his job. maybe kindness came easy to him.

but none of that changed the way your parents kept trying to fold him into your life like he already belonged there. like your future had a shape and a name and a boy who always did the right thing. and maybe it wasn’t even about him. maybe it was about them. the way they kept pushing him into your orbit like they were waiting for gravity to do the rest.

if you were being honest, too, your heart soared everytime hotdog seemed to pick up on your emotions (or lackthereof) and bark when the korean boy would come around. 

sakura lets out a soft laugh. “soobin’s not that bad. he bowed to your mom. he called your dad sir. he helped your grandmother into the car.”

“he also said my room had character,” you mutter. “like it’s a haunted rental property.”

truthfully, it bothered you more than it should have. it wasn’t even your idea to let him in. your mother had hovered near the door, chirping something about being polite, and before you could protest, he was already trailing behind you, his shoes still wet from the rain.

your dresser was clean but scratched along the edges, the varnish rubbed off from years of use. a few stickers clung stubbornly to the sides, mostly band logos, one faded photo of lee moon-sae ripped from a magazine and tucked beneath the glass of the top drawer. the desk beneath your window was tidy, every object placed with a kind of casual precision. stacked tapes, a portable cassette player, two sharpened pencils in a ceramic cup from your elementary school art project. your headphones were coiled neatly beside your mirror, which had a crack along the bottom from when you dropped it last year. it still worked, just split your reflection in two if you leaned too close.

your room wasn’t anything remarkable. not really. but it was yours.

“come on,” sakura rolls her eyes. “you’re not interested. we get it. you don’t have to keep setting him on fire with your eyes.”

“he’s just trying too hard,” you say. you lean back and let your chair creak under your weight. “and everyone loves that. my mom keeps calling him a gentleman.”

“i think you’re finding every reason in the book to convince yourself he’s secretly a bad guy,” sakura chimes. “you’re just painfully, obviously gay.” she grins, then taps hotdog’s paw like it’s a game show buzzer. “final answer.”

you don’t respond right away. the sun has shifted again and a line of light is now stretched across the floor, catching the edge of the mirror. your reflection flickers at the edge of your vision.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “i know.”

truth be told, all three of you did. hell, maybe even hotdog. you told them a while ago, just after your freshman year when you were still coming to terms with your own sexuality. you’d just seen grease for the third time and found yourself looking at olivia newton-john one too many times. the admission felt heavier at the time. you told them in a panic, fearing the dogma that plagued nineteen-eighties korean society (and perhaps always would). against all odds, they accepted you. now it just sits between you like an unspoken acknowledgment. 

hotdog whines dramatically and stretches one paw into sakura’s knee. she rubs his belly without missing a beat. the silence that settles afterward is calm. from the apartment next door, you can hear the clatter of pots and pans, someone getting dinner started. a warm smell drifts in through the open window. rice, garlic, something sizzling in oil. it wraps around the room slowly. 

after a beat, you sigh. 

“his parents are coming over again this weekend,” you say, peeling at the edge of your pencil eraser.

“again?” kazuha groans, finally placing her magazine down to entertain the conversation.

“they’re bringing wine this time,” you say. “like that changes anything.”

“maybe it’s a special wine,” kazuha offers. “marriage wine.”

you throw your pencil at her with a scowl, the thin object just narrowly missing her face and instead bouncing off her shoulder.

your parents talk about your future like it’s a destination you’ve already agreed to. law school. med school. something with an office and a title. they act like they’re offering options, but they flinch every time you hesitate. every meal is another quiet rehearsal of the same plan you didn’t write.

you look up at the ceiling and count the fan blades turning. four. five. six. still spinning.

as if she read your mind, kazuha hummed. she knew you well enough to know that the idea of marriage, or truthfully anything remotely close to soobin, made you sick to your stomach. you were still young, afterall.  

“have you given any more thought into what you want to do after you graduate?

you sit with the question for a moment, turning it over like a stone in your palm. you think about how often you’ve avoided it, dodged it in conversations, buried it under jokes or shrugged it off like it wasn’t pressing. but it always comes back. it’s always waiting.

“i don’t know,” you say. somehow, that feels more honest than anything else you’ve said all day. 

kazuha doesn’t press you. she just nods like she understands, like she’s been waiting for that answer all along. sakura doesn’t say anything either, but her hand shifts a little closer to yours on the floor, close enough that her pinky brushes the edge of your hoodie. hotdog snorts in his sleep, one paw twitching.

you think about saturday. the dinner your parents have been orchestrating like it’s some kind of royal summit. the wine, the good chopsticks, the careful glances passed across the table like coded messages. the way soobin will smile at you, probably because he doesn’t know any better. the way your mother will look at you every time you hesitate, waiting for you to become the version of yourself she thinks you should be.

you’re not looking forward to it. not at all.

but you’re used to doing things you don’t want to do. you’ve gotten good at surviving them, at least on the outside. you suppose you’ll take it one step at a time. of course, first things first, you just had to make it to saturday.

__

sure enough, saturday came faster than you expected. your house never feels smaller than when guests are over.

your mother’s been in a full-blown cleaning spiral since noon, scrubbing corners no one ever looks at and adjusting the same vase on the console table three different times. she brought out the porcelain dishes that usually stay behind glass and bought a table runner that still smells faintly of the department store. light pink, gold trim, too bright for the room but exactly her idea of elegance. your dad even dusted the old calligraphy frame in the hallway, the one no one’s read since it was hung. the good soju got moved to the cabinet by the window. the candles were lit despite the ceiling light being more than enough. she said it was for ambience. it just made everything feel like a play you forgot the lines for.

thankfully, you didn’t need to stick around and hear their nonstop jabberings. you had to work. 

the bowling alley at night never felt quite right. during the day it was loud and bright, full of families and birthday parties and little kids in light-up sneakers. it smelled like shoe spray and spilled coke and hot oil from the snack bar, and no matter how many times you swept, there were always crumpled napkins stuffed under the plastic benches and crayon drawings left behind on the score sheets. but after nine, when the neon signs still buzzed but the lanes sat empty, the place turned into something else entirely. too quiet. too big. like it was remembering what it used to be before people started showing up.

outside, it’s pouring. not just rain, but the kind that pounds the pavement and turns windshields into warped, useless glass. you can hear it, even in here. the steady hiss and slap of it hitting the roof, the occasional gust of wind rattling the glass doors up front. water streaks sideways across the big windows, catching the pink and blue glow of the signage in smudged, dripping lines.

you’re standing behind the counter, elbows on the sticky laminate, watching the clock click one slow minute closer to closing. it’s 7:57. you told your parents you’d be home before nine and in time for dinner, but truthfully, you found yourself dreading leaving. the place is almost dead. just two middle-aged men finishing a quiet game on lane seven and a teenage couple loitering near the claw machine. there’s an empty slushie cup on the floor by the shoe return and someone drew a dick on the napkin dispenser again. you make a mental note to clean it, then immediately decide to leave it for the morning shift. 

your manager had left two hours ago. didn’t ask if you were okay to close alone, rather just tossed you the keys and disappeared. his car’s not even in the lot anymore. just yours, parked crooked under the one working streetlamp, being pelted sideways by rain that doesn’t seem like it’s letting up anytime soon.

you’re tired. not just physically, though your shoulders ache from running shoes back and forth all evening and your feet are sore in your beat-up sneakers. it’s a deeper kind of tired. the kind that wraps around your ribs and settles into your spine, turning everything slightly foggy. tonight’s shift had been monstrous. a birthday party of ten-year-olds had shown up late, dragging a dad who looked half-asleep and a mom who immediately ordered four rounds of fries and then disappeared into the bathroom for forty-five minutes. the kids screamed for three straight hours. one of them tried to crawl into the ball return. another spilled sprite across two lanes and walked away like it wasn’t his problem. the whole ordeal loops in your head. the smell of fake cheese and wet socks. the sound of kids shrieking every time a pin fell. the soda fountain that made a choking noise every time you tried to fill a cup. 

kazuha had come by at some point, dropped off a bag of tteokbokki, and left just as quickly. you’re in hell, she said. i’m leaving. you didn’t argue. she, and sometimes sakura, usually stopped by while you were working for a quick game on their favorite lane. clearly, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that today wasn’t one of those typical days. 

now the place is finally winding down. the couple by the claw machine gives up and disappears out the front doors, holding hands like they weren’t just pretending not to. the two men finish their game, nod in your direction without a word, and head out into the rain, already soaked by the time they reach their car.

you press the button on the control panel and the lanes begin to power down, one by one. each screen goes black with a little beep, and the lights above the pins blink out like tired eyes finally closing. the hum of the machinery fades into a soft, uneven whine, then stops altogether. you flick the switch behind the counter to turn off half the overhead lights, and suddenly the whole alley feels colder. emptier.

you glance toward the parking lot. it’s nearly invisible through the rain, the windows streaked and blurry. the flickering streetlamp casts a warped circle around your car, but everything beyond it disappears into darkness. the cat that usually curls up on your manager’s hood isn’t there tonight. nothing is.

you can hear the vending machine in the lobby buzzing like it’s on its last breath. the ceiling fan squeaks as it turns, slower now, and your shoes make a sticky squelch with every step you take on the soda-stained floor. closing always felt a little eerie. like the building was waiting for something. like the night wasn’t finished with you yet.

you collect the leftover score sheets, ballpoint doodles of anime girls and curse words in the corners, and wipe down the ball racks. the paper towel roll rips wrong again and you use too much cleaner because it smells sharp and sterile, and for a second it reminds you of your mom’s clinic. the way the air there always smelled like lemon and latex and things you couldn’t say out loud.

in the back, the break room is still pathetic. the fridge hums unevenly. the corkboard hasn’t changed since you started. your cup, the one with a small crack by the rim and your name on it in fading marker, is still in the sink. you take a drink of water and stare at the wall for a moment too long.

the clock ticks over to 8:00.

you step back into the main room, palm still damp from the cleaner, dragging it down the thigh of your jeans as the keys in your apron pocket jingle against your leg. just one more walk around. that’s your ritual. make sure no one left their wallet in a rental shoe, check the bathrooms for stragglers, unplug the claw machine because it makes that awful mechanical wheeze if you leave it overnight.

you’ve barely made it past lane nine when a sound slams into the front of the building. a single, echoing bang. like someone throwing their weight against the glass.

you jump.

at first, you think it must be thunder, the kind that comes a few beats after lightning. or maybe the wind throwing something heavy into the door. an umbrella, a trash bin, one of the metal signs from the sidewalk. but then you see it.

a girl. thin and hunched, pressing against the glass like the storm itself spit her out. her hands fumble with the door, shaking, and when she manages to push it open, the wind howls in behind her, carrying sheets of rain and the cold bite of the outside.

your body reacts before your brain does. you freeze. every hair on your arm lifts. the air rushes in too fast, too cold, too wrong.

she steps (more like stumbles) inside dripping wet, completely soaked from head to toe, clothes plastered to her skin like she’d been underwater. her shoes make a squelching sound on the tile, and her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts. it sounded like she’d been running or crying, or perhaps even both. 

you don’t move. you don’t speak. your mouth opens slightly but no sound comes out. the part of your brain that’s supposed to be polite, customer-service friendly, can’t catch up to the part that’s screaming what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. then, finally, you move. 

“are you okay?”

her eyes sweep the alley like she doesn’t recognize it. like she doesn’t know where she is. her lips part, but she doesn’t answer right away. she’s shaking. not just from the cold, but something akin to shock. 

“i… i don’t know,” she says. her voice is soft, hoarse. “where am i?”

you take a step closer with your palms raised slightly, the red flags sounding around the girl as loudly as the rain pelting outside. for all you knew, she was some soaked runaway who’s about to collapse. 

“hey, it’s okay.” you say carefully, gesturing around to the bowling lanes behind you. you drift off slightly to fumble behind the counter for a towel, the one usually kept just under the desk for spills or melting ice or whatever disasters plaguing the snack bar. you hold out the clean cloth for her to take. “you’re gonna get hypothermia or something,” you continue, voice still thin. “here.”

she looks at it for a second like she doesn’t understand what it is. then, slowly, she takes it. her fingers brush yours. they’re freezing.

you don’t ask who she is. you want to. but something about the moment feels too delicate, like if you ask too much, she might shatter. she wraps the towel around her shoulders and just stands there, dripping onto the floor.

“do you want to… sit down?” you offer. “i can make tea. or there’s a heater in the back.”

she nods, but she doesn’t move. you watch her lamely a moment longer, heart pounding so hard it’s all you can hear.

you lead her back to the employee lounge and she sinks into one of the mismatched plastic chairs around the folding table your manager bought secondhand, the kind that wobbles if you lean on it wrong. the fridge hummed with a low, steady buzz that blended with the sound of rain tapping against the narrow window above the sink. the kind of quiet ambiance you usually found yourself sleeping to, oddly calming and all. you rinse out your old mug and set about making tea like it’s muscle memory. your hands move faster than your thoughts, opening cabinets, filling the kettle, clicking on the burner. while it heats, you crouch down by your bag and pull out the hoodie you stashed before leaving home, a faded windbreaker that used to be a shade of blue but now just looked sad and gray. it smells faintly of laundry detergent and whatever was in your bag last week.

you’ve done this before. not exactly this, but close enough that your body knows what to do. you think about the time sakura showed up at your door, mascara smudged as she cried over a failed date with her crush of the month, kang taehyun. you made tea then, too, and put on the latest indiana jones movie just to distract her. the color on the magnavox was so washed out and low definition you doubted tv would ever stick around long enough to become more than a fad, but it did the trick. she fell asleep before the credits rolled.

by the time the tea was ready and you turned around to set the mug down in front of her gently, careful not to startle her, it’s only then did you really see her. her hands were buried deep in her pockets, and the towel you’d given her had slid to her lap, damp and forgotten. she was still shivering, the kind of chill that doesn’t leave just because you dry off. you sank into the chair across from her and it hit you all at once just how far away she seemed, like even though she was sitting right there, some part of her hadn’t made it inside with the rest. she was lost faraway in her own thoughts. still, you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue.

“what’s your name?”

she lifts her head slowly, as if the question takes a moment to settle. when her eyes finally meet yours, something stills in your chest. there’s a softness to her gaze, something uncertain and unsteady, but even in her confusion she seems to be studying you as much as you’re studying her.

her face is beautiful in a way that doesn’t feel ordinary. every feature looks impossibly deliberate. her lips are small and full, her cheekbones smooth and high, and her skin carries a kind of soft, luminous quality that no lighting could fake. the cold has left a faint flush on her cheeks, but it only adds to the contrast against the pale line of her jaw. her hair is still wet from the rain, strands clinging to her neck and falling in loose pieces across her forehead, but it doesn’t make her look messy. it makes her look cinematic. like someone you’re not supposed to meet in real life. she looks like someone you would see in a commercial or a music video, paused mid-frame. someone who belongs in front of a camera or beneath stage lights. her beauty is immediate, the kind that makes you pay attention without meaning to. if you had seen her in a magazine, you would have remembered the page. if you passed her in the street, you know you would have turned to look again.

she watches you without flinching, quiet but steady, her expression unreadable. and for a second, as your heart stumbles in your chest and your breath catches somewhere behind your ribs, you wonder how a girl like this ended up here, dripping water onto the floor of a run-down bowling alley like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

then she speaks, her voice as frail as her quiet beauty. 

“…kim chaewon.” 

the first thing chaewon remembered when she came to was a blinding, bright light shining straight into her retinas. it was harsh and hot, the kind of light that pulsed in her vision long after it was gone. her mind raced between the last memories she had, the blinding flash morphing into mementos of standing on the red carpet while paparazzi yelled her name. it was everywhere, strobing in bursts, coming from the cameras that surrounded her like gnats, popping off one after the other while she stood and smiled, her lips curved into that polished shape she had practiced until it no longer felt like a lie. she remembered the flashbulbs catching in the corner of her eyes, the way they reflected off the sequins of her dress, the way her stylists beamed from ear to ear as they watched her. 

then her mind jumped, the image shifting towards something warmer. she remembered hugging her mother between shoots, her arms too thin but still strong, her perfume light and familiar in a way that made everything else bearable. her mother had stroked her hair gently, murmured something about how proud she was, how beautiful she looked, how tired. she remembered the hum of the studio around them, the low shuffle of crew members, the makeup artist softly reminding her not to cry because it would ruin the liner.

after that, it starts to fall apart.

the memories shift and smear like water on ink, like someone shuffled them out of order or smudged the edges until all that was left were glimpses. she tries to recall the last thing, the actual last thing, but it’s like reaching into murky water. she knows there was a night. she knows she had been alone. there had been music, maybe, or a television left on low, the blue light flickering across the walls of a room she doesn’t think she’d ever seen before. and then nothing. not even pain. just absence.

when she opened her eyes again, it wasn’t gradual. it was instant. like someone slammed her into the present and forgot to explain how she got there.

she felt hollow. like her bones were made of fog. like she was wearing her own skin wrong. and when she opened her mouth to speak, the words came out slow and unfamiliar, as if someone else had used them first. now, sitting there in that plastic chair before you, she can’t remember what she’s supposed to do. she doesn’t know why she’s here. she doesn’t know how she’s here.

but then her eyes flick past you and land on the refrigerator behind your shoulder, locking onto the calendar hanging there, still sealed to september. it’s barely been used, just a generic pharmacy one stuck in place with a chipped smiley-face magnet, the kind your manager picked up for free and forgot about. you watch her pupils shift, her focus harden, and suddenly her whole body goes still.

her face tightens. not the way someone tenses in discomfort, but the way someone braces for impact. her mouth moves before the words form, like she’s not even sure she wants to say them out loud.

“what year is it?”

the question hits you sideways. you blink, caught off guard, your thoughts scrambling for context that doesn’t exist. your mouth opens, but all you manage is a confused, uncertain, “what?”

“the year,” she says again, this time faster, the words tumbling out too quickly, like she’s trying to outrun something. “what’s the date?”

you answer before you have time to think, the response instinctive, flat, a reflex you didn’t know you had. “september fourteenth. nineteen eighty-seven.”

she doesn’t speak. she doesn’t breathe. she just sits there, soaked through, staring at the fridge like it’s something that just betrayed her. her hands are shaking again, worse than before, fingers twitching slightly like her body’s not sure what to do with itself. she’s blinking hard now, trying to ground herself in something, anything, but her eyes are glassy and wide, and it’s clear that whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t this.

you freeze. not because you’re afraid, but because none of this makes sense. hell, you don’t even know the girl. you want to ask what’s wrong, want to do something, but all you can do is sit there, stomach turning, because suddenly the quiet hum of the fridge and the rain outside felt too loud. suffocating. something was wrong and for the first time since she arrived, you’re starting to realize just how wrong.

but before you can ask anything, she speaks quickly. her words tumble from her lips so quickly it’s like she’s ripped off a bandage. 

“i think i died.”

you wanted to laugh. you almost did, truth be told. the last thing you expected to come out of the small girl's mouth was a sentence reserved for inpatients at the local hospital. you’ve watched enough bad movies and heard enough classmates fake illnesses to get out of tests to know when someone’s full of it. this, unfortunately, felt like a textbook example of something someone says after hitting their head a little too hard. you open your mouth, then close it again, because what the hell are you even supposed to say to that?

“right,” you say eventually, dragging the word out. “you’re dead.”

chaewon nods quickly, eager. 

“like… actually?”

her expression falters just slightly, the absurdity of the situation clear on her own conscience. still, she nods vigorously. “unless you’re fucking with me and it’s still eighty-four, yes!” 

you stare at her, wide eyed and all, not bothering to hide the pure doubt cementing its way across your face. you continue after a long beat, leaning back in your chair a little. “i’m not saying i don’t believe you. i’m just saying this all feels very… well, dramatic. that’s a pretty big statement to throw at someone who just finished wiping coke off a shoe rack.” then you tilt your head, skeptical. “are you, like… on something?”

“what? no. no, i don’t do drugs,” she says, her voice cracking slightly as she tries to collect herself. “why would you even think that?”

you blink and gesture around the room lamely as if her question didn’t even dignify an answer. she opens her mouth, then closes it again, clearly at a loss. her hands flutter uselessly at her sides, like she’s not sure whether to argue or run.

you lift your hands in an attempt to soothe the blow, grimacing tightly. “i was just asking. you look kind of… not okay.”

“i am ‘not okay’,” she snaps, voice high and thin now. “i’m very, very not okay!”

“okay,” you say again, softer this time. you shift in your chair, unsure whether you should stand or stay where you are. “do you want me to call someone for you? a friend, or a relative, or i don’t know. someone who can come get you?”

chaewon scoffs, short and sharp, like she can’t believe she’s hearing this. if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure why your questions bothered her so much. maybe it was the way you looked at her as if she was crazy. maybe it was the fact that perhaps, she very much was. 

when chaewon doesn’t reply, you sigh. 

“look, i don’t want to assume anything,” you say carefully. “but you walked in here soaking wet, shaking, asked me what year it was like you’d forgotten it, and now you’re acting like i’m the crazy one for asking if you’re okay.”

“because you’re not listening,” she snaps, loud enough to startle you. her eyes are sharp now, locked on yours. “i’m not drunk. i’m not high. i’m not confused or lost or having some kind of breakdown.”

“fine,” you say again, because it’s the only word your brain’s willing to offer. “you know what, sure. maybe you think you died. maybe you just got lost. maybe you were, like, in a hospital for a long time and your brain got scrambled.”

chaewon hums softly, like she’s thinking that over. “maybe.”

you start to say something, maybe suggest calling the police or an ambulance, anything, but the words catch in your throat when she reaches for the cup of tea. you feel your eyes widen in disbelief as you see what unfolds as clear as day. no strings, no tricks of the light. just as she brushes the warm ceramic, the cup doesn’t even move as her hand drifts right through. 

you stare at the table, your eyes zeroed in on her hand as you blink once and then twice. you lean forward slightly, squinting like that’ll change what you just saw. she freezes, hand hovering inches above the cup now like she’s afraid to try again.

you raise your own hand, point slowly. “did you… did you just… ”

you watch her try again. the same thing happens. her hand flickers, transparent for half a second, and slips through the cup like a bad magic trick. you shove back from the table so fast your chair screeches across the floor.

“nope,” you say, voice higher than usual. “nope. absolutely not.”

chaewon blinks up at you, a little startled. “i didn’t mean to—”

“no no no,” you wave your arms, pacing away like the air might be safer. “you cannot come into my workplace, soaked from the rain, say you died,  then phase through matter. that is not the kind of shit i signed up for!”

“it’s not like i did it on purpose!” she says quickly, holding her hands up, her own panic clear in her own voice. you look at her again, and for a second she really does look sorry. confused, too. maybe even scared. she’s staring at her own hands now like she doesn’t trust them either.

“okay,” you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “okay, let’s go back. rewind. you’re—what? dead? a ghost?”

maybe it was around the third time chaewon tried and failed to touch the cup. maybe it was when you held your head in your hands, slapping your own forehead to wake yourself from the mess you found yourself in. but the panic you felt morphed into something much heavier the moment your eyes caught the time on your wrist watch. everything inside you dropped straight to the floor.

8:52.

you bolted upright. your heart picked up speed in that sickening, cold way that had nothing to do with ‘ghosts’ and everything to do with your parents. you couldn’t even find it within yourself to care about how batshit insane the current ordeal was when your mother’s annoyed face crossed your mind. 

“shit. shitshitshitshitshit.”

chaewon flinched at your sudden movement. “what’s wrong?”

“you mean besides whatever bullshit this is? i’m late!” you stammer, patting your pockets for your keys. “i was supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago.”

chaewon blinked, still seated. “okay?”

“not okay. very not okay. there’s a dinner. a big dinner. if i’m not there, my parents will actually kill me.”

you grabbed your bag and haphazardly did a mental checklist of everything you were supposed to do before closing, the irony of your words not lost on you. you weren’t even dressed right. you were in your bowling alley shirt and faded jeans and smelled like fryer oil. your parents were going to love that.

only, when you walked out of the staff lounge quickly and without looking back, putting as much space as possible between you and whatever kind of crazy you’d just left behind, you didn’t get far. something stopped you. it was like hitting an invisible wall, some barrier that caught you mid-step and shoved you back toward chaewon. the girl stood in the doorway with a look of shock etched across her pretty face. it was like the universe had decided you weren’t allowed to leave her. the air shimmered as you hit the ground, landing hard on your back. a groan slipped out as you stared up at the ceiling, winded and stunned.

you lay there for a second, trying to make sense of what just happened. the floor felt cold beneath you. your ribs ached. everything about this moment felt stupid and impossible, and still, somehow, it happened.

“what the hell was that?!”

chaewon reaches out and helps you to your feet. her touch is careful, steady, but you flinch anyway. not because of her, not really, but because everything around you feels too fragile to trust. your heart is still racing, your thoughts scattered like broken glass on the floor. you can’t wrap your head around any of it, not the rain, not the ghost, not the girl who appeared out of nowhere with a name you never expected to hear again. your brain is begging for answers and your body is just trying to keep up.

you want to scream. or curl up in the supply closet and pretend this night never happened. you want to believe it was a dream, that you’re just tired or hallucinating from too many shifts and not enough sleep. instead, you push the panic down. you swallow it whole and take a step forward.

this time, nothing stops you.

no invisible force, no electric jolt, no strange resistance pressing back against your body. just the echo of your shoes on the polished floor and the quiet hum of the vending machine behind you. you pause, eyes scanning the alley. the same familiar layout greets you like nothing ever happened. the lanes sit in still silence. the servers desk is cluttered with paper cups and spare pencils. the arcade glows faintly at the back of the room, still powered but empty. bowser grins from his cabinet screen, oblivious to the chaos you’re barely holding inside.

you glance over your shoulder, your face stricken with shock mirrored on the other girls face. the girl retracted into herself after you shook off her help, standing still like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. her eyes follow you with quiet caution, but she doesn’t speak.

you look back at the alley, then down at your hands. you still feel the echo of that barrier you slammed into earlier, the sharp reminder that something about this girl had changed the rules. but now, with her behind you, the path is clear.

you take another step. nothing. it clicks then. whatever this is, whatever she is, you’re not going anywhere without her.

chaewon looks at you, eyes wide. “i think… i think you’re stuck with me.”

“so what,” you say, a little dazed. “we’re tethered now? like… magically leashed to each other?”

chaewon blinks. “i guess so.”

you let out a humorless laugh and drag a hand down your face. “this just keeps getting better.”

“i didn’t do it on purpose!” she snaps, defensive now, like she’s already bracing for the worst part of your reaction.

you don’t answer right away. instead, you march toward the front doors and grab her wrist on instinct, not bothering to ask. there’s no time. you start moving, locking up the alley as you go. she stumbles behind you, startled, and lets out a quick “hey!” before yanking her hand free. the look she shoots you is sharp, but she still falls into step beside you.

you sigh. “...come on,” you mutter before you can talk yourself out of it.

“what?”

“you can’t stay here,” you say, voice flat. “and in case you haven’t noticed, i really need to get home. i can’t deal with my mother and the ghost of a dead girl in one night, so please, don’t argue with me. come with me.”

she pauses, then nods once, slow and quiet. she doesn’t argue. she knows just as well as you do that this isn’t really a choice anymore.

your whole body throbbed with the kind of dull, lingering ache that made every movement feel heavier than it should have. your ribs still remembered the floor, your skin still felt the chill of that invisible barrier, and your brain (already stretched thin from the chaos of your shift) was now desperately trying to organize a night that refused to make any sense. you were the kind of person who needed explanations, who clung to logic like a lifeline. you didn’t believe in ghosts, in spirits, in anything you couldn’t hold in your hands or trace back to science or stress or sleep deprivation. but tonight had unraveled everything you thought you knew, and the thread was still pulling. you knew now wasn’t the time to question it, though. not when you could already picture your mother pacing near the dining table, wine glasses out, voice clipped with impatience. not when you knew the dinner you were supposed to be at was soon to start, and the version of yourself that your parents wanted was probably being mourned in your absence.

you didn’t say a word as you locked up the bowling alley, hands moving out of habit as you shut down machines, flipped switches, and double checked the door with haste. chaewon hovered close behind, silent except for the occasional squish of her shoes against the wet floor. the sleeves of the windbreaker were too long and the hem nearly brushed her knees. the hood hung low over her eyes, casting her face in shadow, but she didn’t complain. not once. she didn’t ask questions or look back at the alley, didn’t hesitate when you finally pushed open the front door and led her into the storm. outside, the rain hit like a wall.

it was relentless. thick, heavy drops slapped against your skin, soaked through your clothes in seconds, turned the air itself into something that resisted every step you took. chaewon followed without a word, but you didn’t miss the pampered look of displeasure etching clear across her face. she didn’t ask where you were going, didn’t flinch when you unlocked the passenger side and shoved the door open. she just got in, quiet and damp, her mind clearly running at a million miles per minute.

you climbed in after her, slammed the door shut, and sat there for a moment, hands gripping the wheel. the rain pounded against the windshield, loud and steady, and the wipers struggled to keep up. 

you didn’t look at her. you didn’t need to. she was there, sitting beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you both knew though, clear as day, that it was anything but.  

__

you sped the entire way home, tires slicing through wet asphalt, the windshield wipers dragging across the glass in a frantic rhythm that only seemed to add to the mess unraveling in your mind. your hands stayed tight on the wheel, knuckles pale, shoulders drawn up like tension alone might keep everything from falling apart. every turn felt too sharp, every red light felt like a warning. your brain raced to keep up, cycling through excuses, half-truths, whatever might sound close enough to believable. by the time you pulled into your driveway, your stomach was twisted into something tight and electric. the house looked warm, peaceful even. light poured from the windows in a soft, steady glow. inside, shadows moved calmly behind the curtains. everything looked composed. perfect. like the kind of life you were supposed to want.

you parked too fast, tires bumping against the curb, and before you could think you reached over and grabbed chaewon’s wrist a second time. she didn’t pull away this time, but you could tell she wanted to by the firm press of her lips. she scowled but followed you out of the car anyway.

“just let me talk, okay?” you whispered, voice flat, as you cracked the front door open.

you both stepped inside quietly like you were sneaking in. the heat of the house hit you first, followed by the smell of food. then, as your luck would have it, a blur of brown fur shot into the hall.

hotdog tore across the floor, nails clicking frantically against the tile as he launched himself toward you. his tail was stiff, his body tense, barking sharp and quick like he was defending the house from an intruder. he skidded to a stop between you and chaewon, planted his feet, and barked again, louder this time. the fur on his back stood up in a line. his whole body shook with the effort of it.

“hotdog, stop,” you muttered, dropping into a crouch. you scooped him into your arms before he could lose his mind completely. he squirmed, legs kicking, chest heaving with each bark. even as he started to settle, his eyes stayed locked on the space next to you.

chaewon stood just behind, hood still up, her eyes wide. she blinked at the dog, expression unreadable. “you named your dog hotdog?” she deadpanned, voice dry.

you didn’t look at her. “don’t start with me.”

hotdog gave a low grumble in your arms, ears still pinned, his gaze glued to her like he could sense something you hadn’t named yet. you stroked his fur gently, trying to calm him. he stayed tense. didn’t take his eyes off her for a second.

sure enough, whatever caution you had clung to on the drive home dissolved the moment your mother turned the corner, her heels sharp against the hardwood, her expression already halfway to furious at the sound of hotdog’s barking.

“you’re late,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air before you even had the chance to close the door behind you.

you flinched instinctively. behind you, chaewon stilled, shrinking back a half-step like the force of your mother’s tone alone had pushed her there.

“sorry!” you blurted, too fast. “we—we ran into traffic. and rain. a lot of rain.”

your mother came into view fully then, standing at the end of the hallway with her arms crossed and a look that could peel paint. her makeup was untouched, her pearls resting perfectly at her collarbone. everything about her screamed control. perfection. presentation. she looked at you, head tilting ever so slightly, and her face shifted into something unreadable.

“we?” she repeated, the word cold and careful.

your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. you stand there, caught between the warmth of the hallway light and the cold dripping off her stare. you feel chaewon behind you then, so close you swear you hear the soft hush of her breath, but when you glance back at her, your mother’s eyes follow and the confusion settles deeper into the lines of her face.

you swallow, letting the truth slip down like something bitter, realizing now that maybe chaewon stands here only for you. was it possible that no one else could see her…? besides for hotdog, it seems, though you could recall reading somewhere that animals were always more sensitive to these things.

after a beat of awkward silence, your mother sighed. she didn’t buy your excuse anyhow. you could tell from the way she pressed her lips together.  “change your clothes,” she said crisply, like she was doing you a favor by letting you live another few hours. “quickly.”

you nudged chaewon toward the stairs with a wordless tilt of your head, the weight of the dinner still pressing against your spine like a too-tight collar. she moved without protest, her presence trailing just a step behind you as you climbed each step with the hush of your mother’s voice echoing faintly from the dining room. when you reached your room, you slipped inside first and pushed the door shut until the latch caught soft and final. the sound almost felt like relief. you stayed there for a second, your back pressed to the wood, chest rising and falling like you were trying to slow your pulse down by force alone.

gently, you set hotdog on the floor and watched him shake out the tension like it belonged to him too. his tiny paws clicked across the old hardwood as he made a slow, deliberate circle around chaewon. he sniffed the cuff of her jeans where the rain still clung in faint, damp patches. he stayed close, tail stiff, the soft huff of his breath the only sound besides the quiet hum of your ceiling fan overhead.

chaewon didn’t flinch away from him. she let him trail her steps as she turned her head to take in the four walls you called your own. her eyes drifted over the cracked dresser with its peeling varnish and the stickers pressed stubborn along the edges. she lingered on the vinyl player by your desk, the stack of tapes half-tucked under a notebook with your scrawled half-thoughts and old pencil marks. she catalogued all of it in the soft, searching way someone might study a museum display of an ordinary life they could never quite touch.

when she turned back to you, there was no judgment in her expression. no faint curl of distaste at the way your laundry basket overflowed with half-folded sweaters, no poorly hidden pity for the single wilting plant on your windowsill that never got quite enough sun. if anything, there was a flicker of something else behind her eyes. a kind of quiet surprise, maybe even envy, though she did not say it out loud. like she had never stood in a room where things were loved so imperfectly and left exactly as they were.

hotdog settled by her ankle, nose pressed to her shoe as if confirming some truth only he could smell. he let out a soft, low whine before rolling onto his side, belly exposed, eyes half-shut but still trained on her.

you pushed off the door and crossed your arms loosely over your chest, the wordless question you’d been turning over finally slipping free. “so. it’s just me, huh?”

chaewon blinked, slow, as if you’d pulled her from whatever thought had been holding her still. “what do you mean?”

you gestured loosely at hotdog, now busy pawing at a stray thread on her cuff, then at the closed door behind you where the world beyond still bustled. “my dog sees you. i see you. but my mother just looked right through you like you weren’t standing three feet away.”

chaewon’s lips parted like she might say something simple to smooth it over, but nothing came. instead she just shrugged, the jacket slipping off one shoulder where it dwarfed her frame. “i guess you’re the only one who can.”

the words dropped between you with a weight that felt heavier than the room itself. your breath caught in your throat, caught on the fact that whatever this was had found you of all people to hold onto. you watched her fingers brush the corner of your scratched-up desk as if she was testing whether she could feel it at all. her touch hovered, inches above the wood, her eyes flicking to yours with a question you weren’t sure either of you could answer.

you let out a breath, your laugh small and a little helpless as you glanced at the old posters peeling at the corners. “figures. out of everyone in this city, you get stuck with the kid who names her dog hotdog and still has stickers from elementary school on her dresser.”

chaewon looked at you then, really looked, and something in her face softened at the edges. she didn’t smile exactly, but she tilted her head like she was seeing you clearer than you’d seen yourself in weeks. her eyes drifted back to your cracked mirror, the one that split your reflection but never bothered you enough to replace. “it’s… nice,” she said, voice quiet but certain. “your room. it’s different from what i’m used to.”

you let out a small breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. for a moment you just stood there, the soft hum of the ceiling fan filling the spaces where your thoughts couldn’t reach. then it hit you all at once, that tight knot in your chest that said you didn’t know anything about her. not really. not this girl who’d appeared at your work dripping rainwater and impossibility, who now stood in your room like she belonged in it somehow.

“what are you used to?” you asked before you could stop yourself, voice soft so it didn’t break whatever fragile calm had settled between you.

chaewon’s eyes flicked back to yours, her lashes still damp from the storm that hadn’t quite left her. she let out a slow breath, brushing her fingers along her sleeve like she was grounding herself in its borrowed warmth.

“i’m a model,” she said after a moment, almost too casual, like she was stating the weather. “i mean, i was a model. for a few years. mostly print. some commercials.”

your brows knitted together, the tiny piece of trivia slotting somewhere just out of reach. “like… for magazines?”

chaewon gave a small nod, turning her head away to look at your cluttered desk as if it might hide her from the weight of the admission. “yeah. magazines. catalogs. ads for things no one needed.” her voice thinned with the shape of the memory. “hotels. designer clothes. sometimes cars.”

you blinked at her, your fingers frozen halfway through unbuttoning your work shirt. you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be changing for dinner until the faint echo of your mother’s voice carried up the stairs, a clipped call for you to hurry. you cleared your throat and turned your back to her, tugging your shirt over your head and reaching for the neat blouse your mother had pressed that morning. behind you, you heard chaewon shift her weight, her footsteps soft as she angled herself politely toward your window, giving you what little privacy she could.

you fumbled with the buttons, your mind racing to match her soft, half-murmured facts with the faint echoes of a name you hadn’t thought about in years. you’d been young then, three years ago, but not too young to remember. kim chaewon. the name folded open inside you like a page you thought you’d torn out long ago. you remembered the grainy black-and-white headlines on newsstands near the bus stop, the way your parents whispered about it at the breakfast table. tragedy, the word used like a period in every hushed conversation. too young. so sudden. you remembered kids at school passing around clippings torn from tabloids that your teacher snatched away when she saw them.

you pulled your sweater over your head and turned to face her, your breath catching sharp in your throat. “chaewon,” you said carefully, testing the shape of her name now that it meant something more than just a soft syllable in the air. “the chaewon? you’re– you were everywhere. you— god, you were on billboards. people wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

chaewon turned her head to glance at you, her eyes wide but unreadable. for a second she just stood there, caught in the middle of your too-small room with your dog curled up on her foot like he trusted her with every secret you’d ever whispered to him. she looked smaller suddenly, like the name you’d just spoken pinned her back into something she couldn’t step out of.

“at one point in time.” she said quietly, voice barely above the hum of the fan. 

you swallowed, the shock of it catching on your tongue. “the news said you died. it was everywhere. nobody really knew how. they just said it was… ‘natural’. but everyone, my mom, the neighbors, the press– they all said it didn’t make sense. that someone like you couldn’t just–” you trail off, the final word hanging between you tensely.

chaewon’s eyes flicked down to her hands, her fingers curling around the edge of your desk like she needed to hold onto something real. “i don’t remember dying,” she murmured, and the words seemed to hang in the soft dusk of your room, trembling in the stale air like something fragile you shouldn’t breathe too hard on.

you opened your mouth to ask more, to pull the edges apart and peer into the dark places where answers might be hiding, but your mother’s voice sliced up the stairs again, sharper this time. company’s waiting. you felt it like a tug at the back of your neck, the reminder that there were expectations waiting for you just outside your bedroom door.

you let the questions settle back down in your chest, unfinished and heavy. chaewon didn’t look at you. she traced her finger absently over the corner of your cracked mirror, her reflection fractured in three places, none of them quite her.

“we’ll talk later,” you said, softer now, almost a promise as you grabbed your brush from the nightstand. you caught her watching you in the glass as you smoothed your hair down, her eyes still wide with something you couldn’t name.

hotdog whined softly, like he understood too. like he was reminding you that no matter how many answers you didn’t have yet, she wasn’t leaving your side anytime soon.

you square your shoulders, forcing your feet toward the door, and pretend you couldn’t feel the weight of her quiet steps behind you as you headed back down to the part of your life that still feigned to make sense.

you hear the doorbell before you fully leave your bedroom. hear the way your parents argue over who was going to open the door, the way your dad cleared his throat before finally being the one to do it. you walked down stairs just in time to see the family of the hour. soobin is there, dressed like a model student, holding a bottle of fruit wine in both hands. his parents stand behind him, smiling the way parents smile when they’re here for something more than dinner.

“good evening,” soobin says, bowing. “thank you for having us.”

your mother is already there, moving like clockwork. “of course. come in. we hope you’re hungry.”

behind you, chaewon murmurs.  “what is this, a dinner or a business proposal?”

your legs carry you to the table like they’ve rehearsed it. you sit between your father and soobin, who smiles like nothing’s awkward. like he doesn’t know what he’s walked into.

the table is covered in unnecessary cutlery and dishes that haven’t seen daylight since new year. your mother ladles soup with all the care of a surgeon. you say thank you. you nod when soobin’s father brings up grades. you try to meet soobin’s eyes, but the sickly feeling rooting in the pit of your stomach overpowers any instinct of forcing niceness. 

chaewon lingers just beyond the archway, eyes sweeping the room. she lets out a quiet laugh when hotdog growls low, the small dog eyeing soobin down when he edges too close to you at the table. almost instantly, he reins it in when your father whistles a warning and instead pads over to chaewon’s side. the two move slowly through the dining room, taking in everything with careful, measured steps. it almost surprised you how quickly the dog took to the dead girl.

“it smells lovely,” soobin’s mother says with a soft smile after a beat, her kind old face glancing between everyone seated around her, none the wiser to the ghost prodding at her faux diamond necklace.

“bulgogi and japchae,” your mother replies, her tone stiff with pride. “i wasn’t sure what your son liked, so i wanted to keep it traditional.”

“everything looks wonderful,” soobin says, his voice soft with sincerity. he means it, of course he does, which somehow makes it worse. you resist the impulse to roll your eyes, settling instead for a tight, polite nod. “thank you again.”

you weren’t sure just how the topic broached what your plans were after highschool, but lower and behold, it was inevitable. after several more beats of muted conversation, your dad clears his throat, the deliberate kind that always signals he’s about to launch into something. 

“we’ve always believed in building a strong academic foundation,” he begins, folding his napkin with unnecessary precision. “especially now, with college on the horizon. we’ve been looking into programs at seoul national. their pre-med track is exceptional.”

you keep your eyes on your plate, chewing slowly, as if that’ll somehow delay the rest.

“she’s always been very disciplined,” he adds. “science has always come naturally to her. she thinks analytically. she’s focused. driven.”

chaewon moves while he talks. slow and curious, like she’s floating through a museum of someone else’s life. she passes the bookshelf in the corner, brushing her fingertips across the dusty spine of a photo album no one’s opened in years. her eyes catch on the family portrait from your first birthday. your mother in shoulder pads, your father smiling like a man who never lets go of the steering wheel. then she stops in front of the fish tank. the one your dad insists makes the room feel “balanced.” a single goldfish circles the plastic castle inside, its path tight and repetitive. chaewon leans in, watching it loop again. and again. and again.

by the time she circles back to you, your dad’s still going. something about internships. something about “laying the groundwork for future success.”

chaewon crouches just enough to speak near your ear. her voice is low and dry, her words softened by the clink of silverware and the low murmur of soobin’s mother pretending to care.

“your dad just said ‘strong academic foundation,’” she whispers. “does he know he sounds like a fucking brochure?”

you don’t answer. instead, your fork hits the plate harder than you mean to. the metal clinks sharply against ceramic, and a few grains of rice scatter across your placemat. the sound cuts through the conversation just enough to turn a few heads. you mumble an apology you don’t mean. your mother’s smile doesn’t falter, but it tightens at the corners, thinning like a thread pulled taut. without missing a beat, she slides the conversation right back on track.

“tell them what you’re planning to study,” she says, like it’s already been decided.

you swallow, suddenly hyper aware of the way soobin’s knee almost grazes yours beneath the table. “i’m not sure yet.”

“nonsense,” your mother chirps, her tone too light to be casual. “she’d make a wonderful doctor. like me. like her father.”

soobin’s parents nod as if on cue. polite, approving. 

“structure is important,” your mother continues. “especially now. at this age, you need a path.”

“structure,” chaewon repeats softly, still lingering just behind your chair. “they say that like it’s freedom. like they don’t know it can be a cage.”

you glance sideways. she’s not looking at you. she’s watching your parents, eyes narrowed, unreadable. your fork is still in your hand, untouched. you haven’t taken a bite in minutes. the japchae’s going cold. you drop your gaze, try to focus on your rice like it might anchor you, like it might give your hands something to do other than tremble.

you stop listening and the table blurs. someone’s saying something about university rankings. someone else mentions mock interviews. your mother laughs, that high, measured laugh she saves for people she’s trying to impress. your appetite vanished somewhere between “discipline” and “structure,” and it’s not coming back. you stare down at your plate, the clink of silverware and careful small talk swirling around you like static. it’s loud, but none of it means anything.

chaewon shifts, almost imperceptibly, but you felt it. her presence felt like a weight pressed into the air beside you. quiet, uncertain. maybe she’s thinking. maybe she’s afraid to speak.  maybe she’s wondering how a house this full can feel so empty. she stays beside you, folded in on herself like she’s trying not to take up too much space. her hands rest gently in her lap, unmoving, her posture stiff with restraint. but then, when you turn to glance at her, your breath catches in your throat because she’s already looking at you. her gaze was steady and searching as if she’s trying to decode something written in the fine lines of your face, in the way your fingers tense and curl against the edge of your chair.

her expression is unreadable but soft, and for a moment, it is all you can see. everything else– the table, the noise, your mother’s relentless script of discipline and direction, soobin’s too-polite smile, the clink of glass and the scrape of silverware against porcelain– it all falls away. the room dulls at the edges, the world pulls back, and it’s just her, sitting in your windbreaker like it was made for her, the fabric loose across her frame but somehow still perfect, the sleeves falling just past her wrists, the collar slouched against the slope of her neck, making her look at once impossibly casual and devastatingly beautiful. her hair has started to dry, no longer clinging to her skin like it did when she first walked in from the rain, and now it falls in soft waves around her face, framing her cheekbones and catching the warm light of the chandelier overhead in a way that makes her look untouchable, unreal, like something conjured from the space between memory and longing.

even with the weight of whatever she’s carrying, even with the exhaustion that shadows her eyes and the quiet grief tucked into the corners of her mouth, there is a kind of stillness to her that steadies something in you, a strange and startling calm that wraps around your ribs and presses into the noise like a hand over your heart. and in that moment, nothing else matters. not the dinner, not your parents, not the future laid out for you like a paved road you never asked to walk. because all you can see is her. you almost facepalmed yourself for failing to see just how breathtakingly gorgeous she was when she stepped into the bowling alley.

your mother started asking soobin’s mom about his younger sister, but you don’t pay it any mind. you can’t find it within yourself to follow along with the conversation, not when beauty incarnate stood right there in front of you for (quite literally) only your eyes to see. they fill the air with words. nice ones, smooth ones. the kind that coat everything in a layer of gloss. but you knew better. 

chaewon purses her lips, weighing her words carefully, before finally she sighs.

“you know,” she starts, quiet. “i don’t think i ever had a dinner like this. even at the height of it. even when i was doing seven commercials a month. we always ate in pieces. my mom would cook, then rush out to a shift. or she’d reheat something while i was going over scripts. everything was fast. always between something else. i used to wonder if maybe we were doing it wrong. if we were supposed to be like this.”

she looks at the table, at the steam curling from the japchae, at the careful way your mother placed each side dish like it mattered. there’s something in her face. not longing. not envy. just the soft ache of distance.

“now i’m not so sure,” she adds. “this doesn’t feel like love either.”

you glance up, and her eyes are already on you. she’s not smiling. but there’s something open in her expression. something unguarded.

you nod, just a little, as faint as you could make it without seeming crazy. but then you hear your name. your mother, noticing the stillness, leans in slightly. her smile is smooth, practiced, all porcelain polish and no warmth. it doesn't reach her eyes. she folds her napkin neatly and sets it beside her plate.

“you’re being very quiet tonight,” she says, low and clipped. “is something wrong?”

you lift your eyes from your plate and force a smile, but it doesn’t sit right. it stretches wrong across your face, too stiff, too thin, the muscles in your cheeks pulling with effort. “just tired,” you say after a beat, careful not to sound defensive. “long shift.”

soobin, ever the polite guest, jumps in before the silence can settle too long between the clink of chopsticks and the gentle murmur of background conversation. “she’s been working a lot lately,” he says, offering a nod and a soft smile that makes your stomach twist. “saving up on her own.”

your father lets out a short, approving hum, the kind that says he’s only half-listening, already preparing his next line in this carefully orchestrated performance. “that’s a good habit,” he says, reaching for the side dish closest to him. “discipline is everything, especially at her age.”

your mother sets her chopsticks down with practiced elegance and folds her hands neatly in her lap. she doesn’t look at you, not exactly, but rather toward the center of the table as if she’s addressing the collective presence of soobin’s family, as if this is the part of the script she’s been waiting for. “we’ve always taught our daughter to prioritize the things that matter,” she says, her voice taking on the softened cadence she reserves for guests. “work, school, family. she knows how important it is to be reliable. to show up. no matter how she feels. especially when she doesn’t feel like it.”

and that’s when it happens.

a breath, sharp and sudden, cuts through the space beside you. the faintest rustle of fabric, like someone moving too quickly or trying not to at all. you glance to your right and find chaewon completely still, frozen in place like a photograph caught mid-fall. her posture, which had been relaxed in a tense sort of way all evening, is now rigid. her spine pulled tight. her shoulders drawn in. her hands tremble faintly in her lap, knuckles pale where she’s gripping the edge of her seat, fingers twitching as though they don’t know whether to hold on or let go.

her face is a mask of nothing, which is somehow worse than anything else. it’s not calm. not composed. it’s the kind of emptiness that comes right before something shatters, the moment where a crack forms just beneath the surface and no one sees it until it splits wide open.

“chaewon?” you mouth.

she doesn’t answer. doesn’t look at you. her eyes are wide but distant, fixed on something far past the dining room walls, something you can’t see. she tries to leave, her steps slow and uneven, like she’s walking underwater. but just as she crosses the threshold of the dining room, her body halts abruptly, jerking as if she’s walked straight into glass. it’s the same barrier. the same invisible line that stopped you cold at the bowling alley, the one that pressed into your chest like gravity gone wrong. you can almost feel it resonate again, faint and low, like the air itself is rejecting her. she flinches. it’s small, but enough. enough to see that she’s not okay. not even close.

your heart lurches, the rest of the room fading into background noise. you cough, quick and sharp, a weak excuse for your sudden movement as you push back your chair. the legs drag against the polished floor with a screech that silences at least half the table.

“bathroom,” you mutter, barely audible, already moving.

you feel your mother’s eyes on your back immediately, her stare like a blade. narrowed, questioning, already preparing a quiet reprimand for later. you don’t look at her. you keep walking.

chaewon is already disappearing down the hallway by the time you’ve fully risen from your chair, her frame drawn tight, shoulders hunched with a stiffness that looks like she’s trying to outrun the room she just left. her steps are uneven, unsteady. not frantic, not dramatic, but the kind of movement that betrays just how close she is to falling apart. without hesitation, without stopping to care what your mother might whisper later or how soobin’s parents might interpret your sudden absence, you follow her. you trail the ghost down the hallway and into the narrow bathroom at the end, the door still cracked slightly from her entrance. the moment you step inside, the air changes, cooler somehow. quieter, as though the walls have pulled in to hold your secrets. the muffled drone of dinner conversation fades the instant you push the door closed behind you, cutting off the soft clatter of dishes and the cadence of your mother’s voice talking about something else that doesn’t matter. you turn the lock, the quiet click sounding far too loud in the stillness.

chaewon is standing in front of the mirror, motionless, her eyes locked on her own reflection like she’s not sure whether to recognize it or be afraid of it. the harsh fluorescent light washes over her skin, casting pale shadows beneath her eyes and along the sharp line of her jaw. you take a step closer and only then do you notice her breathing. shallow. ragged. her chest rises and falls too quickly, and one of her hands is braced against the sink as though it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. all at once, you feel the weight of it settle into your chest again: the impossibility of her. the rules that seem to shift every time you think you’ve figured them out. she can touch some things– your jacket, a doorknob, the floor beneath her feet– but not others. her body is there, and yet not. she can open a door but not hold a cup. she casts no shadow, but her presence fills the room like she’s the only real thing inside it. she shows up in mirrors, but only to you. and you wonder, briefly, what that says about you.

but there’s no time to unravel that now. not when she’s standing there, trembling. not when her fingers curl tightly around the edge of the sink like she might shatter it. not when the reflection looking back at her isn’t one of composure or clarity, but of a girl caught between memory and something much harder to name.

“what happened?” you finally found your voice, tentative. you watch as she lifts her hand to her chest like it hurts. her fingers twitch against her collarbone. she doesn’t speak right away. when she finally does, her voice is distant. hollow.

“i remember.”

you stay quiet, but your eyes betray you. you lean forward again, enraptured by the words yet to leave her lips. she looks past you, eyes unfocused as she continues.

“just before everything went dark. there was this shoot. a long one. we were supposed to wrap up late, but they asked me to stay after. just me. no crew.” she swallows. “i told my mom i was tired, that something felt off. but she didn’t listen. she said i was being dramatic. that i should be proud they wanted more of me. she told me to be polite, to do what they asked, to show them i was serious about my career. anything beyond that didn’t matter.” she blinks, her voice cracking as she gripped her chest tighter. the memory came back to her in a sudden sharp, fragmented burst. your mothers words echoed through her mind, a trigger of the events which happened before her death. chaewon shakes her head. “i remember walking into a room with the lights already on. i remember the couch. it was this ugly green. i remember someone closing the door behind me. and then—” her whole body flinches.

“then i remember nothing.”

you step forward, slowly, not entirely certain what compels you to move except for the quiet understanding that staying still feels more unbearable than reaching out. your hand rises almost instinctively, hesitating in the space between you, fingers just barely hovering near her arm as though touch alone might anchor her back into her body. you don’t know if she’ll recoil or disappear or pass through you like steam. you don’t even know if she’ll feel it. but still, you reach.

there is something in her eyes that unsettles you. it’s not only fear, though fear is present. it’s not only grief either, though that lingers too, threaded through the silence between her breaths. it’s something else entirely, something heavier and quieter, the kind of emotion that doesn’t have a name but sits beneath the skin like a bruise that never faded. her voice cracks slightly as she speaks, so soft that you almost lean in without realizing it. 

“i didn’t fall asleep. i didn’t get sick. they took something from me,” she says, her eyes fixed on the mirror, as though looking at her own reflection might help her believe it. “and no one ever found out because i was gone before they could ask.”

you don’t say anything in response. you don’t move. because what could you possibly say to that, when every word you might offer feels small in the face of what was being uncovered? all you can do is stay with her in that space, your hand still hovering near, your presence the only thing you have left to give.

she leans back against the wall, sliding down until she’s sitting on the tile floor, knees drawn up like she’s trying to make herself disappear. she stares at her hands.

“i think that’s why i’m still here,” she says quietly. “not because i died. but because no one ever knew what really happened to me. not even my mom.”

you know what she’s suggesting without her needing to speak the words aloud. the possibility that maybe, she didn’t just die of ‘natural causes’. that perhaps it was murder. that perhaps the very reason she was here, was because you were the one to help her unearth the truth.

the bathroom hums with a low, steady quiet, the kind that fills in the spaces where words might have gone. your hands are cold when you finally lower yourself to the floor beside her, the tile firm beneath you, the silence thick enough to press against your skin. when chaewon leans into your shoulder, slow and careful, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to, you don’t flinch. you don’t move away. you let her. and somehow, that feels like the only right thing in a night that has unraveled every definition of what right is supposed to mean.

you stay like that. minutes pass, or maybe more. the shaking in her hands gradually eases. you feel the weight of her head against your arm and realize she’s still here, still tethered to this moment, and somehow, so are you. you stare down at your own hands, resting limply in your lap, and notice they are trembling even though the cold has long since stopped biting at your skin. the bathroom feels too still now. too quiet in a way that makes your thoughts fold inward and ricochet back against the inside of your skull. it’s the kind of stillness that amplifies everything, the kind that leaves no room to hide.

you feel like you’re about to break open. not from fear exactly, and not even from confusion, but from the sheer pressure of trying to make sense of what is unfolding around you. your parents are just a room away, probably setting out dessert on the table you helped polish last weekend. you can picture it clearly, persimmon cookies arranged in neat rows on the white ceramic tray. they’re entertaining a boy you barely know, a boy they want to see beside you in photographs and future plans. and yet here you are, on the floor of your own bathroom, next to a girl who shouldn’t exist.

you cover your face with your hands and groan. “i’m going insane.”

chaewon shifts. you can feel her eyes on you. “you’re not.

“then what is this?” you drop your hands and look at her, eyes wide. “because none of this is normal. you’re not normal. i can’t even explain this to myself, let alone anyone else. and now you’re, what, unlocking repressed memories in my parents’ guest bathroom like this is some horror movie side plot?”

chaewon flinches, just a little. you exhale, long and shaky, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. “sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. just…” your voice wavers. “i don’t know what to do with any of this. i don’t know why you’re here. i don’t know why i’m the one who can see you.”

chaewon’s voice is quieter now, as if the weight of the evening has pressed the words out of her gently, almost like an apology. “you don’t have to help me.”

you look up at her. really look. there’s a stillness in her face that doesn’t ask for anything, but you can feel it all the same. the waiting, the guarded edge of hope she’s already prepared to let go of. maybe it’s the exhaustion dulling your thoughts, the hours of pretending everything is fine when it never has been. maybe it’s the pressure of a dinner table you fled from, still humming with conversation about a life you never chose. or maybe it’s just the expression on her face. the one that screamed her desire for answers, her want for closure. because almost immediately, you shake your head with a resigned sigh.

“no,” you say, slower now, more grounded. “i’ll help.”

chaewon blinks, startled by how easily you said it. like she wasn’t expecting you to mean it.

“if someone hurt you,” you continue, your voice gaining shape as you speak, “if someone killed you, then you deserve to know why. even if none of this makes sense. even if i feel completely fucking insane trying to make sense of it.”

her lips part like she wants to respond, but all she manages is a whisper, so faint it nearly disappears between you. “why?”

you run a hand over your face, pressing your fingers into your temple like it might ease the slow pounding behind your eyes. “because you’re in my house,” you say, eyes still closed. “you’re in my life now. and whether i asked for it or not, it’s happening. from the looks of it, that’s just something i need to deal with. if helping you gets you out of my head sooner, then… fine. i’ll do it.”

chaewon nods, once. solemn and still, like she’s trying to commit your words to memory in case you change your mind. “okay,” she says, and it’s barely a breath.

you lean back against the bathtub, the cool porcelain grounding you for the first time all night. you let your eyes slip shut and exhale a shaky breath.

“what the fuck is my life,” you mutter, more to the ceiling than to her.

chaewon doesn’t answer, but when you glance at her from the corner of your eye, she’s watching you with something quieter than hope but warmer than fear. her shoulders have dropped a little, her posture no longer folded entirely inward. for the first time since the moment she stepped out of the storm and into your world, she looks like she’s beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, she’ll get the answers she’s looking for after all.

you just had no idea what your first step would be.

part one

[wuhluhsuh]

OFF THE RECORD | SOPHIA LAFORTEZA

SYNOPSIS— You were supposed to be invisible just another staff member on KATSEYE’s team for their comeback promotions. You’ve worked with idols before. You know the rules: be professional, stay out of photos, don’t get attached. Sophia didn’t get the memo. She’s annoyingly charming, way too pretty, and for some reason keeps finding excuses to sit next to you, ask about your lunch, or call you her favorite in front of cameras. Everyone says that’s just how she is. You try to believe that. You’re not sure what’s worse, the fact that you’re starting to fall for her, or the fear that she’s only playing a game you’ll never be allowed to win.

PAIRINGS— idol!Sophia x non-idol!f!reader

STATUS— ongoing

TAGS— smau, fluff, crack (?), idol x make up artist, written chapters

FT.— Katseye, OC, maybe more ?

DISCLAIMER— cursing, kys/kms jokes….more to be added ?

A/N— saw a Sophia smau and got motivated 🤭, promise to lock in 🤞I’m very free this week soooo, and I’m almost done with the profiles once I’m done the smau is going to start

PROFILES

ONE. Girl in pink hoodie

TWO. Do you like sunsets?

TAGLIST— @fruityg0rl @skz-xii @yeetaberry127 @reey0w @yoursweetdeception @kristalag @oishiiiz @iluvyuandme @bbykaixx @meoriapeuda99 @academiq @hydrardz @aijunbi @arihiu @cceanvvaves @falling-intoo-deep @saysirhc @tormaa1

[wuhluhsuh]

mommy...

[wuhluhsuh]

obsessed actually

cowgirls do it better | sophia laforteza

synopsis: it's been 2 years. 2 years since your wife has ripped your heart out as she tried mending it. but now you're in her home court, to finalize the divorce. there's a couple things you need to learn about sophia's life before you leave.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), alcohol, mentions of rehab, tension, marriage troubles, cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, manon, more…

wc: 20.7k

"i'll be here waitin' ever so patiently, for you to snap out of it"

(part 1)

2 years later, lax, los angeles

“spare change?” 

it wasn’t how you imagined touching down in california. the casual mix of lavishness and poverty running like parallel lines through the city.

it’s not a pretty sight. 

you offer the man a couple bucks, hearing his praises of God and thanking you for your generosity. you give him a wave, leaving for your chauffeured ride. 

sophia had managed to send you a ride, with the cliché man dressed in a suit and sign with your name. the driver offers to take your duffel bags, dropping them into the trunk of his car. you hop into the car, a general feeling of restlessness running through your veins.

you swore that you would never step into this city. never let your path cross with hers again. she had her own life out here, and you had your own.

but of course, life has its own way. and you either try to fight against the current, or flow with it.

the ride was tedious at best, long traffic on the 5. sunny sunny california with people swarming. each with their own busy lives and even more complicated stories. you were just another story here, with a past that you were hoping to untangle here.

in an instant the buildings gave way to huge mountains. then you saw it, the large houses on the hills. grand spanish-style mansions, newly developed ultra modern ones with expansive windows. infinity pools on the cliffs. 

you definitely weren’t in your ranch back in new mexico. life moved differently here. you shift a bit in your seat, watching the city fly by in front of you. it's gorgeous, but you’d rather be here under different circumstances. 

the driver pulls into the ritz-carlton. definitely not the motel you booked for yourself. there’s a huge circle driveway with many nice cars parked out front for the valet. dark velvet carpets, almost welcoming you in like a star. you gave yourself a once over, the cowgirl attire wasn’t one that was common here. letting out a long sigh. you missed your idyllic life back at your ranch.

the driver drops off your bags onto a cart gently. he gives a slight nod of the head and soon a bellboy is immediately at your side. ready to push your stuff into the hotel. you’re getting money out of your wallet, when he pushes a hand out.

“ma’am, it’s been paid for. have a good rest of your day.” he leaves you and drives away.

fucking sophia. you curse her in your head. 

“of course she would do this”, you grumble to yourself, walking after the bellboy towards the receptionist’s desk. you can hear small conversations droned out by the large front lobby. there’s staff all around, ready at an instant to cater to any patron’s need. the bellboy continues to wheel the cart forward. the sound of your boots muffled by the velvet carpet.

and you arrive in front of the receptionist’s desk. several staff members rapidly typing on their computers. at the sight of you, a woman looks up, calling you up to the desk.

“good afternoon, i have a reservation.” you speak, grabbing your ID out of your wallet.

“oh perfect! we have you set up in the presidential suite.” the receptionist smiles at you, giving you a knowing look. she goes back to rapidly clicking and typing into her machine. 

“i’m sorry, do you know me?” you look a little lost.

“of course we do, miss laforteza informed us of your stay.” she offers a trained smile.

fucking sophia.

“right, of course…well, thank you.” you’re left a bit annoyed. 

who was she to dictate where you were going?

“here’s your room key and please feel free to call room service at any point. your tab has already been covered.” she explains, sliding over a small folder with your hotel keycard.

you offer an awkward smile to the receptionist before walking off to the elevators. your cowboy heels clack loudly against the waxed floor. 

you smooth out your hair for a second, already feeling annoyed that everything’s been paid for by sophia.

“may i see your card?” the bellboy askes you. you slide him your keycard, watching the way his eyes go wide at it.

he opens the large elevator and taps the keycard to head to the highest level of the hotel. and the elevator shoots up, rapidly climbing the tower where you can gaze out at the open city shrinking below you.

you admire the city for another couple of seconds when the elevator dings, and the doors open. 

you trail after the bellboy, entering the long hallway adorned with a gold and white floor. large oil paintings lining the walls, with individual lamps illuminating each one.

it’s starting to dawn on you that maybe you really don’t know sophia. you don’t know how she can afford this lavishness, enough to book you the presidential suite.

he opens the large doors to the suite for you, opening to the largest room you’ve ever stepped into. floor to ceiling windows peering over the city. a gorgeous large round table with a bouquet centerpiece. 

beautiful couches and sectionals just in the main area that you’ve walked into. you can spot at least three doors that must lead into their individual rooms.

“wow, i’ve never stepped in here.” the bellboy gives a whistle as he places your bags by the couches. he gives the room a once over before turning to you. “anything else i can help you with ma’am?”

“uh, no i’m all good.” you reply. and he’s starting to walk away, pushing the luggage cart. “wait! here, take this.” 

you hand him a 20, to which he smiles and happily pockets. closing the door behind him. 

and now you’re left in the presidential suite in a ritz-carlton.

you walk around, taking in the room, opening doors to more living rooms and bedrooms. a large california king with softer than silk duvets. the showers are humongous, enough to fit at least ten people inside. a beautiful vintage ceramic bathtub that is seated near the window. you eventually open to the balcony, a large infinity pool rushing with water. perfectly shaped hedges off to the side.

you can’t help but feel this is too much for you. this lavish suite is definitely worth more than your entire ranch and some.

you take off your boots by the door, getting situated in your suite. admiring the amount of closet space that’s available.

when you suddenly get a call.

“hello?” you prop the phone on your shoulder. trying your best to continue unpacking your duffel bags.

“hi! this is sarah from davidson & partners. i have you scheduled for a meeting at 1pm tomorrow, just calling to confirm.”

you roll your eyes, what a great way to get introduced to the state. 

“yes, i’ll be there.” 

“perfect, see you then!” and then she hangs up. 

you tuck your phone away, this was going to be a long trip. 

maybe you could take yourself sightseeing while you were here. trying to get the heavy feelings off your mind. 

trying to get a certain woman out of your mind.

you walk out the suite, ready to get out of this over-the -top suite when you hear a voice call out. 

“hey, neighbor!” a woman’s voice comes out light and inviting. you swivel your head to a gorgeous woman. dressed like she just stepped out of her nearest tailor shop. a gorgeous blazer and pencil skirt that fitted her perfectly.

you blink a bit before collecting yourself, walking up to her with a hand out.

“hi, nice to meet you.” you offer, she shakes your hand. warm and smooth fingers that slide into yours.

“i’m manon, have i seen you before?” she asks, presenting a charming smile, pearly white teeth and sharp eyes to pair.

“probably not, it’s my first time in california.” you reply, tucking your hand into your belt again.

“are you here to do touristy things? or would you like the inside scoop?” manon winks a bit, clearly amused by your out of state attire and look. 

you don’t miss how she’s given you at least two top to bottom scans.    

“i’m figuring it out…” you gesture aimlessly. then a thought runs through, “you recommend a place to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“there’s an absolutely gorgeous beach not too far from here.” she grabs a quick paper from her hotel pad, jotting down the directions for you.

“thanks, manon.” you pocket the slip, “i’ll see you around.”

you give a quick wave, and she waves back too.

“buy me a drink sometime!” manon shouts before closing her hotel door.

you descend down the very fast elevator and are about to grab a ride when the valet walks up to you, keys in hand.

“hi! miss laforteza informed us you might need a car during your stay. here’s the car she requested.” he gives you a bright smile, dropping a pair of keys into your hands.

and you swivel your head to a cherry red vintage jeep wrangler. open chassis and red rims to match. 

jesus, she even remembered your dream car.

“i, thank you.” you wave the guy off and he heads back to his stand. your eyes drift to the car again, a clean exterior and interior. you give a little tire check with your boot and examine the engine.

it’s well maintained, clean oil and no sign of leaks.

she did her research, color you impressed. she even remembered the small details. your favorite scent of car freshener dangling by the mirror. you hop in the car, engine rumbling smoothly, it’s obvious this car had a good owner.

you pull off the lot and head to a beach. the wind in your hair and you can hear the seagulls cawing by the ocean. it’s a gorgeous sight, rays of sun peeking into the car. 

you gradually come to a parking spot, locking the car and tossing the keys in hand as you walk away. the beach is looking magnificent, there are some people playing beach volleyball and others still tanning. 

meanwhile, you’re in your cowgirl getup, a little too dressed for the occasion. peeling off your boots and rolling your pants far enough to keep them from getting wet.

you can feel the sand in between your toes. the sand warmed by the sun. and then you step forward, walking towards the ocean and pushing sand behind you.

the ocean is beautiful, gorgeous small waves crashing against the shore. leaving behind darker wet sand. you let the wave crash against your feet, cold ocean water as a contrast against the warm sand.

it’s definitely gorgeous out here, you can’t remember the last time you were by the ocean, maybe when you were a kid?

letting nature continue to move between your toes. water running around your legs and retreating back to the ocean.

then a dog runs past you, darting across the waters in front of you. tongue hanging out his mouth as he chases after a small rubber ball.

he catches it in his mouth and darts back to his owner. a kid no older than ten and cheering his dog on. you smile warmly at the scene unfolding. 

his dog barks loudly, awaiting another throw to which the young boy launches the ball forward.

“go, max!” you hear him shout, and the dog’s already leaped into the air, mouth open as he grabs snatches it out the air. the young boy rejoices when the dog turns around.

it reminds you of charlie, his beautiful eyes staring at you whenever you fill his bowl, or pet him right behind the ears.

maybe it’s slipped past you, maybe in this life you don’t get what you want.

instead you focus out, looking at the sun casting on the water, ripples that look like diamonds dancing on the surface. you can spot some yachts out far away, large cargo ships in the distance.

the water continues to splash against your legs, you feel at peace here. there’s nothing else but you and nature right now. 

you let your shoulders drop, the tension from having to come to california has weighed on your mind. you try to let yourself relax for a while, watching the ocean as it comes and goes.

--

“no lara, listen to me, it’s not like that.” sophia rambles on the phone, trying to grab a smoothie from her fridge.

“yeah, and how would you describe this? hollywood star sophia laforteza seen walking into davidson & partners. literally the best known divorce firm in all of california.” lara is mocking her, reading off a fake tmz headline. “maybe there’s a secret life sophia’s hiding?”

sophia rolls her eyes at the comment, “it’s going to be fine lara. i’ll be discreet.” sophia uncaps the smoothie, drinking it as her friend continues to express her worries.

“discreet isn’t exactly your style sophie.” lara laughs out. 

and sure she may be right, but sophia could be discreet, right?

“nuh uh, you’re probably trying to convince yourself you can be discreet. and the answer is no.

sophia’s jaw drops. “i can be discreet!” 

“you’re about as discreet as a peacock. now listen, what you need to do is meet her somewhere else. somewhere out the public eye.” lara shuffles a bit over the phone, and sophia sets her smoothie down.

“like where?” sophia’s waiting for a magical answer.

“somewhere like uh…what about her hotel?” lara lets it roll off her tongue and immediately sophia feels like a train crash.

“that is the worst idea i’ve heard yet. and you’ve convinced me to go to an award show hungover.” sophia laughs a bit.

“you booked the room, the chauffeur, and the car. i think you’re allowed to go inside.”

“she’s going to shoot me in between my eyes before i open the door.” sophia picks up the smoothie again, grimacing at the taste.

“no she wouldn’t! she married you.” lara explains.

“yeah, that was before she found out i had a fiancé.” sophia rolls her eyes again.

“well, pseudo-fiancé, maybe you could profess your undying love and make more babies, because this one is so darn cute!” lara coos at the toddler. “yes you are! yes you are!”

“lara please, she hates my guts, practically told me so when she ran out on me.” sophia laments. 

the feelings still burn like an open wound.

“so she hates you but you still kept her kid?” lara questions.

“i still love her, you know that.” sophia sighs out.

its quiet for a second.

“your mom is so dramatic isn’t she?” lara’s voice has gone up in pitch, playing with sophia’s kid. “yes she is! yes she is!”

sophia can hear her baby babbling and squealing in delight. “anyways, don’t meet her at the firm, paps are watching you like a hawk.”

“you don’t have to remind me.” sophia lets out with a sigh. 

there used to be a time where she could just exist, without worry of the public. but those days are long gone.

suddenly there’s rustling sounds and a loud wail from the speakers.

“uh oh, your baby just crapped her pants. say bye bye now!” sophia can hear the lara’s poor imitation just above her baby’s wails. “auntie lara signing off, go win her back!”

and then the line hangs up, sophia doesn’t even have time to say goodbye.

“fuck.” 

sophia throws her head in her hands.

--

“hello?” you’re half dressed, wearing shorts and a tank with your hair all over. still rubbing your eye as you try to sharpen enough.

“hi, good morning! it’s sarah from davidson’s, we spoke yesterday. mind if we come up? 

“huh? yeah sure, come on up.” you speak into the hotel phone. half drowsy when you look over and see 7 am flashing on the alarm clock.

you stumble a bit as you approach the door, hearing quick knocks against the door.

“coming, just one second!” 

you rush back to slide on some longer pants and head for the door, unlocking it to the sight of two very well dressed lawyers. both with polite smiles on their face.

“sorry to bother you so early, but it’s urgent.” the woman states and you let them in. 

immediately they place their briefcases on the table. taking out pens, recorders, legal pads and laptops.

behind them, two security guards walk in. they immediately begin scanning the suite. large devices that are moving up and down the rooms. they approach each window and immediately pull the blinds, covering the outside light from coming in. 

it’s like the secret service securing the west wing.

“hey, what are they doing here?” you ask, still yawning a bit.

“that’s our intel security team, we need to ensure this space isn’t tapped since we’re away from our firm. it’s standard protocol.” sarah is very direct, the smile disappears off her face as she sips on her coffee.

her counterpart is rapidly typing on his laptop, flipping through binders like a madman, but with precision behind each move.

“is this really necessary? it’s just me here.” you ask, a little perturbed at the intrusion.

“have you heard of brad and angelina, or bill and melinda? well those clients pay us, pardon my language, a shit ton of money to keep their divorces private.” sarah continues, not missing a beat as she types on her own laptop.

“it’s in our and your best interest that we follow procedures.”

“right…sorry for the offense ma’am.” you offer back.

“none taken. just doing our jobs.” she continues to drink her coffee. and suddenly the door is closed behind you, gone are the two mysterious men that stepped in.

“john, intel team left, place is clean, put that in the notes.” sarah speaks to the other lawyer, rapid typing ensuing.

“i thought we were meeting at the firm?” you ask, letting your arms hang on the back of a chair.

sarah looks away from her screen.

“mrs. laforteza requested to move up the meeting and in a discreet location, so we’re here to set up in time for her arrival.”

“here? as in this room?” you ask, the shock making you stand up taller.

“yes, this room. she’ll be here in…” sarah looks down at her watch, “15 minutes, well 14 now.”

“15 minutes?” you’re wide eyed and stunned, rushing off to the bathroom. trying to freshen up before seeing sophia again. 

you can feel your heart hammering as you brush your teeth. memories flowing through you as you wash your face. you try to calm your clammy and shaky hands.

you can still hear the hushed whispers from the lawyers, 

putting on a shirt over your head, you step out, still looking tired. but definitely more presentable than how you woke up.

you’re ready to drop your shoulders when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

shit.

you smooth your hair out once more and walk towards the door. giving a final breath and opening it.

the light from the windows illuminate sophia. she’s got a cap, sunglasses, dark clothes and no makeup in sight. 

she doesn’t look like the woman that broke your heart.

you gesture to her to walk in, not even able to greet her. she gives a nod when she walks in. immediately you smell the familiar scent of her perfume. you inhale the scent enough that make your heart beat quicker.

it pulls you in, like it always has. truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever be tired of the scent.

eyes on the ground as she walks away, trying not to show how affected you are. even without a single touch she has your insides all shaken up. 

you follow behind her, taking notice of her slow steps. like she’d rather just run out the door at a moment’s notice. 

sophia pulls a seat on the other side, dropping her purse lightly. your eyes watch her intently, like you’re tracking her. after some searching, she takes out a folder filled with documents, all tabbed with notes. you watch her separate them into piles, hand meticulous and deft.

sarah and her counterpart watch her as well.

sophia finally settles in her seat. and gives a nod to the lawyers.

“welcome to the first divorce settlement conference.” sarah starts, “we will begin recording…now.”

you watch her press a button on the recorder. the room’s feeling a bit too stuffy now. it’s really here, the dreaded divorce that you tried to put away, just like the stubborn feelings you had.

she gives you a quick glance, just enough to commit your face to memory now. your cheeks are more sunken and those dark circles spell trouble. 

in you, there’s a war against what you want and what you need. you listen to what you need. barely sparing sophia a glance, she doesn’t deserve it. in your head she didn’t deserve any of you, but in your heart…it still beat for her.

“now let’s get the structure of these meetings understood. we will be discussing property division, child support, and spousal support if applicable.” sarah continues.

“this is my colleague, who will be here for note-taking as well as shifting responsibilities as needed.”

you and sophia both give a firm nod.

“let’s start with property division. under page 2, section 5a.” sarah begins, flipping to a new section of her binder.

you both follow suit with your own copies. eyes reaching past all the legal jargon.

“the ranch in new mexico, measured at twenty acres. including livestock, house, and the barn.”

“that’s mine.” you speak up, and sophia snaps her eyes up to you, crossed arms that loosen at the sight of you.

she hasn’t heard your voice in all this time, a pained reminder of the last words you said, correction: shouted at her.

“mrs. laforteza?” sarah questions.

“that’s hers, and sophia, just sophia.” sophia replies.

“sophia, and thank you.” the lawyers are scribbling and typing in their laptops.

it’s strange how calm the room is. four people here to settle a divorce in the presidential suite of a ritz-carlton.

you grab a sip of water, watching sophia through your eye line. 

she’s a bit dazed, eyes that seem so lost. and maybe if you weren’t so heartbroken, you would offer some comfort.

“great, next is the large 1930s spanish-style mansion in the hollywood hills, measured at seven thousand square feet. 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms.” sarah continues.

your eyes nearly bulge out.

“that’s hers.” you speak up, coughing a bit as you clear your throat.

“sophia?”

“yes, that is mine.” sophia shifts her legs a bit.

you sink into your seat, this was going to be a long meeting. 

the hours continue, discussions of property grew to be extensive. you didn’t realize how much needed to be accounted for. 

as well as revealing how much money sophia had accumulated. the star was definitely well-paid. 

and you were slowly realizing how small you felt.

there was nothing comparable to the net worth of sophia laforteza. you once felt so confident and proud of your ranch, a safe haven for you both. but now you feel like maybe you weren’t a good enough provider.

maybe that’s why she left you.

you snap out of your spiral when the lawyers call for a break. giving time for a short walk and stretch. 

you do notice that sophia’s been unfocused. blank stares as the lawyers discuss among themselves.

“would anyone like room service?” you ask into the air. and the two lawyers walk over to you.

“coffee and a bagel with cream cheese please.” you scribble it down.

“would you like anything?” you turn to the other lawyer.

“also coffee, but i’ll have a muffin and apple.” you jot down their orders, and writing another line as you call room service.

room services picks up immediately at the first ring, a woman helping you get all the orders down with efficiency. 

sophia’s still in a daze, her hand slightly shaking in her lap.

you try not to notice it, especially given your now relationship with her. 

when room service arrives, you thank the server. offering a tip as he exits the room again. the lawyers are eager to have something in their stomach. 

you can imagine the hours are also taking a toll on them.

but your mind is focused on the other person in the room. you walk towards sophia with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a glass of water in hand.

placing it down in front of her, causing her to focus again. a light gasp when she sees your face so close. 

“this is for you, i bet you haven’t had anything today.” you say softly.

it’s not supposed to mean anything, just a simple gesture. but to sophia, she feels like she could crumble.

sophia nods firmly, a bit too firmly. its like the words won’t come out her throat. like she isn’t still madly in love with you.

“excuse me for a second.” sophia makes a quick dash for the bathroom. and you watch her retreating body disappear behind the door.

both lawyers stare at the door as well, giving you a quick look before returning to their conversation.

what you don’t know is that sophia’s sobbing. crying into her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sound.

how could she ever act like she isn’t completely and utterly in love with you? how you still stir up feelings in her body that make her want to reach out to you?

how she had to give herself a ten minute pep talk in her car before stepping out.

God, she was a wreck. 

she gives herself a minute. just one. enough to pull herself together, broken sobs and pain shooting in her heart. 

you stand by the door, caught between wanting to knock and wanting to give her space.

“fia?” you ask. “you okay?”

you faintly hear it, a sob that’s trying to break out of her throat. 

“i’ll be-i’ll be out in a second!” she tries her best to sound normal. rapidly wiping tears off her face and giving herself a quick check in the mirror.

thank God for waterproof mascara. 

she looks presentable, just enough to cover the traces of her tears. with a shaky breath she moves for the door, opening it to you on the other side.

your worried eyes that look too warm, in her mind a flash of angry eyes hit her. it reminds her why she’s here. why you ran out on her with resentment in your eyes.

but you stand here, unmoving and looking into her. and she nearly breaks again, digging her nail into her thigh, trying to keep the tears at bay. long enough to get through this.

you want to ask her what’s wrong but she gives you a controlled smile. one that lets you know she doesn’t want to speak about it. and she doesn’t, instead she walks back to her chair. 

calmly sitting again and scooping yogurt into her mouth. you pull the chair next to her, resuming the silent war between both of your conflicting feelings.

the lawyers both return to their chairs. and offer each other a look when sarah speaks.

“thank you both for a productive meeting, we will meet again in two days.” 

sarah and her counterpart gather all their belongings again. tucked away neatly into their briefcases. both offering a handshake before leaving. 

you shake their hands and thank them for their time. watching them until they close the door behind them. 

then you’re left with sophia. 

you’re left with sophia.

you turn towards her, watching her pack her purse with all the documents she had laid out. she’s in a slight hurry, you can tell by the frazzled eyes and jittery hands. 

she also realizes that she’s left with you.

you stand off to the side, silently watching her. she then shifts back, pushing the chair in and she then tries walking out.

you feel yourself panic, something unsettling erupting in your stomach. 

“thanks for everything. you know, the hotel, the car, everything.” you speak quickly. “you didn’t have to.”

“you’re welcome. it’s really no problem.” sophia’s voice is shaky. 

she waits a beat. 

“it’s nice. to see you, i mean.”

and without another word she walks out the door, closing the door behind her.

you sink into yourself, feeling yourself cringe at the comment. you felt so stupid speaking up.

--

“so spill, how was it?” lara lounges on sophia’s couch, sparkly eyes as she’s trying to pry. 

sophia gives a sigh before joining her on the couch.

“it was…amicable.” sophia didn’t want to talk about how she broke down crying in your bathroom. how you reminded her of her wedding day. 

she’d rather shove all those feelings down.

instead sophia recounts, you looked familiar. too skinny in her mind. you definitely lost weight, she had hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“amicable? your wife hates your guts and she’s amicable!” lara exclaims. 

“it’s not like a movie, you know? we may be actresses but that’s not her.” sophia continues to explain.

“what about you? i bet you were shaking like a chihuahua.” lara spoke.

“i was not! i was very professional.” sophia exclaims. “she was too.”

lara groans, “that’s not fun!”

“divorce settlements aren’t meant to be fun.” sophia explains.

“not as fun as you, right?” lara lifts anna into the air, the baby squealing loudly.

“hand her to me.” sophia opens her arms, and then the baby is propped in her lap. “i saw your mama today, she’s still very pretty.”

the baby babbles a bit, “mama.”

“yes, your mama. she’s lost some weight.” sophia says gently, rocking her toddler slowly. “i’ll have to make her some sinigang.”

anna claps her hands together in excitement.

“okay, this is really sweet, but you’re making me sad.” lara speaks up, and sure sophia’s thought about it. “and i don’t get sad, so go make up with her.”

“i can’t. and you know why.” 

“fuck him! he doesn’t get to dictate your life just because his daddy’s got a big name.” lara scoffs, grabbing anna again.

sophia shakes her head. in an ideal world thomas never existed, or any kind of person like thomas. 

in her ideal life she had you, anna, and grew together. maybe had a couple anna’s with you.

but she’s dug herself in this hole, and she needs to dig herself out.

--

“mrs. laforteza, hey, it’s good to hear from you.” you dig a stick a little further in the sand. 

you stare into the sand, drawing small circles. 

“hi dear, how are you?” mrs. laforteza’s warm voice comes through the phone. 

it’s comforting. she’s like a second mom. you basically grew up in her house.

eating dinner with her, cleaning dishes, helping mr. laforteza with ranch work. it felt like you were always meant to be in this family.

“it went okay…” you drag out, thinking about your stay here. 

the divorce settlement meeting was tense, and its driven you away from the hotel. the room feeling suffocating despite how big it was. you keep feeling this unsettling feeling that something’s wrong.

something’s wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

so instead, you’ve been spending many hours outside, enjoying the summer sun. trying to find peace with life as it is, especially with the divorce coming.

“just okay? you don’t sound like someone who is okay.” she speaks.

you can hear charlie’s pants through the speakers.

“i’ll be alright, it’s really nice out here.” you look out to the ocean, squinting as you look at the rays of light. “i get why she came out here.”

“i’m sure.” 

mrs. laforteza has always been sweet, trying to be as gentle as she can. knowing that her daughter has broken your heart. “she’s trying to fly us out soon.”

“yeah you both would really like it here.”

maybe a part of you is stuck, stuck waiting for some big reveal that sophia didn’t mean to crack your heart.

you tried moving on. all the worries, pain and anguish slowly dying within you. but some days the feelings overwhelm you, and it’s like you’re back at square one.

“listen dear, you’ll always be a daughter to us, married or not.” mrs. laforteza continues and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “never forget that.”

you nod but then realize how she wouldn’t see that. 

“of course ma’am, thank you for always being there.”

“oh honey, we’ll always be here.” 

you hear charlie's yips as he chases after a ball that sophia’s dad is throwing.

“you think she meant it?” you ask into the open air.

“meant what, dear?”

“you think she meant to break my heart?” you feel like retracting the question as soon as it came out of your mouth. 

who in their right mind asks their mother-in-law this?

“i don’t think she meant to. i think she wanted to save what she could, and your heart paid the price.” you listen to the faint noise of a rocking chair as she continues.

“sometimes, i wish she never liked me back.” you say it and truly you don’t mean it. 

but it stings a little less to imagine a world where you weren’t as foolishly in love.

“honey, that girl loved you the second she laid eyes on you.” mrs. laforteza laughs out loud.

“when i saved her from those coyotes?” you let out a choked laugh at the memory.

“she came running back the ranch, screaming her head off about how you protected her and looked so cool.”

you wipe a tear from your eye. 

“what else did she say?”

“she told me she was going to marry you someday. swore on the Bible she would.” 

you still your movement. 

“did she?” you ask, your heart is blossoming in that way that your brain hates. hates how she still had you wrapped around her finger.

“sure did.”

you let the silence hang in the air. listening to seagulls and soft waves crashing against the shore. trying to think about your next steps, what life would mean for you once you’re really divorced.

suddenly a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“hey, neighbor!” a familiar light voice comes through, you tilt your head just enough to see her. large glasses and a beach shawl covering a bikini set. she looks ready to enjoy the beach. you give a light wave to her, as she sits next to you. a large grin on her face.

“hey, it’s good to see you.” you offer, and she nods a bit, watching you, observing the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“i would say the same, but you seem a bit…what’s the word? sulky?” manon shrugs, a bit of amusement in her face as she watches you lean back in shock.

“i am not sulky!” you exclaim, hand on your heart like you’re clutching a pearl necklace.

“then what is this?” she points at your six pack of beer, a couple already popped open and empty, grabbing one to open.

“this is…leisure…” you gesture to the space around you. she gives you that look, the kind of look your friend gives you when they know you’re full of shit.

“you’re not convincing anyone with those eyes.” she points out, taking a sip of beer with you, a slight grimace at the taste. 

“what about my eyes?” you take another swig, looking back onto the shoreline, watching someone swim out.

“sad, like you have a thousand yard stare kind of sad.” she laughs to herself as she explains it. 

and really if you had to guess, maybe you do given everythings that’s been happening to you.

“i’m just…dealing with a lot.” you explain, she takes another sip of her beer, despite the taste.

“yeah? tell me about me.” she urges you on, nudging your shoulder a bit. and really life has been so down, you’re more than compelled to spill your secrets out.

“the reason i'm here,” you gesture at the area around you. “is because my wife is divorcing me. i’m here to settle the divorce.” 

and clearly that wasn’t the response manon was expecting. she’s taken aback, slowly digesting and trying to find the words to comfort you.

“wow, that’s a lot. yeah i don’t blame you for doing this.” she comments, trying her best to lend an ear. you give her a nod, thanking her just for the company. 

it’s nice to have someone who knows nothing about her past, a clean slate.

“is it her fault?” manon asks you, genuine interest in her eyes.

“i think so.” you offer. manon doesn’t press further, eyes also watching the ocean, sitting quietly together and admiring the sunset.

“well, to a clean and quick divorce!” manon lifts her glass, you lift yours too. making a light clinking sound as you both sit in silence once more.

--

this was not how sophia wanted to start her morning.

“sophia! my lovely fiancé! to what do i owe the pleasure?” his slimy voice coming through the speakers.

sophia’s already burning. a hot heat of anger spreading through her nervous system. 

a reaction to the sickly headlines funneling out of drama journals and anyone that cared remotely about sophia’s career.

“thomas. getting caught in ibiza with supermodels?” sophia bites out, her manager sitting beside her. tablet in hand as they scroll through the damning evidence.

“easy tiger…i was just celebrating my birthday. you know how those weekends go.” sophia can hear his cockiness through the phone. “which, by the way, you should’ve posted about, it’s pr 101.”

sophia wants to scream. she has not worked this hard in her career to be seen as anything less than a star in her own right.

this man is going to drag her reputation down with his.

“happy belated…but learn to cover your bases, asshole.” 

“stop acting like my mother.” his voice turns into that disgusting condescending tone. 

the one he puts on when he thinks he’s better than you. 

“more importantly, how’s the divorce settlement going?”

it grates against sophia’s ears. 

“it’s going well, don’t get into my business.” sophia scoffs.

“well, then don’t get into mine.” he retorts back. 

sophia continues to try to not curse him out. her manager looking at her in worry, all sophia can do is try to think about happy thoughts.

happy thoughts about anna or you.

he coughs a bit.

“you better attend my dad’s birthday gala next weekend.” 

she thinks about it, thinks about how she’d rather be at home with anna. but duty calls.

“fine. send over the details.”

he hangs up, sending an address and time. and sophia’s losing her mind all over again.

shouting at no one in particular about how much of a jackass thomas is. how his incessant need for the party lifestyle is going to ruin sophia’s life.

she needs a way out, and she needs it soon.

--

this wasn’t how sophia wanted to plan her evening. she wanted to be at home, a glass of wine in hand as she watches some silly tv show for the fiftieth time.

she’d play with anna and lounge outside the backyard. or have a lazy night swim.

but here she is in her long cocktail dress, a jacket adorned with pearls to match. it’s enough to stay afloat at the party, enough to be noticed, but also not stand out. 

with all the old executives and their much-too-young trophy wives on display, sophia wants to leave.

thomas has already turned on his flashy smiles at his dad’s friends. each of them giving respectable nods, just enough to acknowledge him, but not enough to respect him.

he tried parading sophia around, introducing her as his fiancé, to which many seemed disinterested. some women even looked at her in pity, but she held her head high enough.

luckily she spotted lara not too far away.

“oh thank god you’re here, these people are so boring.” lara starts, giving everyone an evil eye before smiling at sophia.

sophia feels exactly the same.

“i hate going to these. no one cares anyways.” sophia continues, and honestly her life has been feeling like that lately.

she’s still a very high profile star, but with the status comes having to attend these more than necessary events. to mingle and be amongst those that run the industry, it gets boring to a point.

“how’s anna?” lara asks, softly tilting her champagne flute around. 

that lights up sophia’s eyes.

“so cute, the babysitter just sent this photo.” and sophia shows the young toddler, sound asleep and tucked into her bed. with her mouth hanging slightly open.

“aw that munchkin, she’s so adorable.” lara coos at the photo.

“i know, yesterday she was trying to open all the kitchen cabinets.” sophia shows another photo of the young girl, wide eyed and caught by sophia’s camera.

sophia reminisces on the photos, scrolling to one that made her heart clench. 

it was a picture of a frayed photo of you and sophia, much younger and much stupider.

silly marks on each other’s faces and stickers all over your shirt. sophia’s wearing your cowboy hat and you’re wearing the pair of boots she gifted you. both seated on mr. laforteza’s truck bed.

lara gives a quick look at sophia, watching the way she pauses herself. admiring memories of her youth that she left behind.

lara looks a little closer.

“anna has her eyes.” lara points her finger down, “the way she scrunches them with her smiles. it’s just like hers.”

“really? i never noticed that.” sophia zooms in on you, the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear. 

anna does the same whenever she’s finished with her food, or accidentally knocks over a cup of milk.

sophia feels like she could throw up at the fact. 

she’s been trying so hard to keep the memories of you alive in anna’s life. showing her old photos that she stole from the ranch house. reminding her of her other parent.

enough to make anna realize that you are indeed her mama. and sometimes sophia thinks she can recognize you, or maybe she’s just repeating the words back.

when really you always existed in anna.

“i think you should tell her about anna.” it’s not accusatory or said without knowing the context between you two. 

lara had been the first friend sophia made when coming to california. two girls with dreams in their heads and hopes in their hearts. to “make it” out here in hollywood. discussing their dreams and deepest fears of what makes them human. bonding over that shared desire for greater.

so really, lara understood her. understood how the fear of rejection from you would break sophia all over again. 

she saw it firsthand when sophia returned to california. she wasn’t the same, barely was able to pull herself long enough to go outside. 

and when sophia first got her morning sickness, lara was the one waiting in the bathroom with her. waiting for the pregnancy tests together.

“i want‐i want to. but i’m scared. i’m scared she’ll realize that she wants nothing to do with me or anna.” 

sophia speaks truthfully, it broke everything in her when you told her to leave. she had never seen you so angry and upset, like a caged deer, trying so hard to escape. 

she couldn't bear to hear how you don’t want her anymore. her heart would crack open again.

and what if you didn’t want to be involved in anna’s life?

“but what if she did? anna deserves a chance to know her.” lara continues, a sad warm smile on her face. “they both deserve the chance to be in each other’s life.”

it’s not like sophia hadn’t contemplated this before. each prenatal visit making her cry all over again. the ultrasounds, the first heartbeat, even the delivery.

she wished you would just burst through the doors, rushed comments about traffic running late and hold her hand as she went through this scary pregnancy. comforting words and soft affection as she went through the trimesters.

she wouldn’t trade anything for anna. she just wish you were here to experience it with her.

lara lets the topic go, it’s hard to see her closest friend so caught in between worlds. so much of her life she sacrificed and only to be left unsatisfied. it’s heartbreaking, and she hopes sophia will get her happiness back.

to much of the dismay of sophia, thomas’s father began speaking. welcoming all the guests through loudspeakers in his mansion. attracting the attention of all guests, but sophia’s heard this speech at every previous party before. how he owes all his accomplishments to a very special mentor of his. and then he gives that short anecdote about being a young and bright-eyed filmmaker. hoping to get his projects out into the world.

with a slight tug of her arm, lara pulls her away from the crowd, all entranced by the story.

“he’ll probably go on for another hour, come on, let’s go see if there’s some good liquor.” lara smirks. dragging sophia away from the main room, soon they’re walking across marbled flooring. large doors leading into the big pool out back, fountains pouring into the pool.

lara eventually pulls them into a large room. large dark oak bookshelves lining the back wall. each filled with hard covered books lining each shelve. a single lamp illuminating the room. large arabian carpets covering the floor. a heavy wooden desk sat close to the bookshelves. a fit study room for a world-renowned director.

“this camera probably costs more than a house.” lara points out the giant standing camera in the other corner of the room, and sophia would agree. 

it drives her insane how much of thomas’ life was just handed to him, the opulence, the trust fund, all of it simply because he was born into the family. sometimes sophia wished thomas never existed. didn’t use his unlimited power for evil, to manipulate and control the weak.

“shit, sophia. come look at this.” sophia walks towards lara, finding her looking at an open drawer, a manila folder already opened on the table. “S.L.” in bold letters stamped on the front.

images spill out from the manila folder, each one from different events that sophia has attended. either red carpets or pictures from her acting. it’s haunting, it’s like she’s being watched. 

and then it gets worse. 

there’s photos of her child, anna running around in sophia’s backyard. photos of sophia lifting her kid in the air and spinning her around. it makes sophia sick to her stomach. 

“lara, lara…” sophia turns to lara with tears in her eyes, shock making her ears pop and tinnitus ringing. her blood has run cold and so has her body, a slight shaking as she steps away from the table, away from the contents of her private life being captured.

“sophia, it’s okay, come on focus on me.” lara’s trying to stabilize a very lost sophia, her eyes keep darting everywhere. there’s thoughts flowing faster than water down an edge of a cliff.

“he knows. he knows anna.” sophia can feel her breath getting shorter, it’s harder to breath in deeper without feeling like she’ll hyperventilate. and lara’s trying her best to calm her down. but fuck if this isn’t a slap in the face.

she tried so hard to protect anna, going as far as to disappear to give birth. not even letting thomas near her or to see her. it was her way of protecting anna and protecting you.

“what else is in there? i bet that jackass has other dirt on me.” sophia asks through harder breaths. the sudden shock and stress is constricting her airways. 

lara’s searching through the folder, eventually dumping it all out on the table. and out flys two contracts.

“it’s your acting contract.” lara’s quickly reading through it, familiar clauses from her very own. the clauses of work, management, pr image, conditions of pay. all of it laid out and then lara lands on a tab. highlighted in orange and circled in red pen. conditions of pr image and the ability for the company to manage sophia’s pr image if it were to slip into a scandal. and possible pr management rights reserved for the company. 

“hold on…” lara flips through the rest of the contract, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. “something’s not right.”

sophia’s holding onto the edge of the hardwood desk, trying to count to four in her head during each breath, slowly bringing down her heart rate. she can barely hear lara through the ringing. 

“did you know about this?” lara looks at sophia, another contract in hand. 

“what?” sophia barely gets out, straightening herself when lara is breezing through the contract.

“it’s thomas. the trust. the inheritance. all of it.” lara continues to read through the pages, eyes moving left and right. “sophia. his father’s trust! the marriage, it’s all for inheritance.” 

lara turns the page over to sophia, and even with her half breaths she can see the clauses: public-facing equal, married by 30 years of age, inheritance. 

all of it is slowly piecing together. the urgency for the divorce, the sudden interest in sophia’s career. the manipulation and coercion of marriage was all to guarantee the inheritance of his father’s net worth. eventually he would secure his position to acquire his father’s businesses. 

how could sophia be so stupid?

all because of a stupid clause that sophia signed when she was still a bright-eyed actress hoping to land her first big role in hollywood. only because she didn’t hire a lawyer to read the fine print of all the clauses in her contract. 

it had cost her autonomy and the disrepair of her relationship with you. and if sophia had to guess, he was going to drag anna into it too. some sick leverage to get this marriage on the fast-track to secure his position.

all because she signed to a slimy acting agency run by thomas’ father. and all because thomas got his hands on her acting contract.

“i’m going to strangle him lara.” sophia gets out her phone, taking photos of the contract. every single photo or page in the manila folder all documented now in her phone.

“sophie, let’s be smart about this okay?” lara starts, already taking photos of her own as a backup. “we need a way out, we have to do this smart and quick.” 

sophia nods.

“you have dirt on him right now, this contract, the coercion of marriage, his scandals. you know all about it.”

lara continues, thinking about how to use this to their advantage.

sophia continues to read over the inheritance, all of it is so obvious, thomas is after his dad’s assets. in an attempt to secure his position over his brother. he’s using sophia as a chess piece for his plan to take over. a coup.

“leak it.”

lara speaks up suddenly. her eyes are deep in thought, she keeps flipping through all the evidence. “leak it anonymously.”

“what?” sophia stops, confusion in her eyes as she looks at lara.

“make it an exposé, if his dad found out that thomas never went to rehab. and spent his money partying. dragging one of the biggest stars of hollywood into a coercive marriage. that would spell the end for thomas moore. he’d never be let out of his dad’s grasp again.”

lara begins texting people in her phone, a plan to drop pieces of evidence all over the next couple of days. a sudden exposé piece would send thomas into hiding. 

“what if it backfires, lara? i can’t lose her or anna.” sophia panics, still worried about how this will all blow up in her face.

“we have a way out.” lara is confident, a large smile on her face, even if it was the last thing she could do, she would help sophia no matter what. “he’s tormented you for years sophie, the manipulation, the controlling. he took you away from her. he did this.” 

lara points at the pictures, the acting contract.

“we’re going to make him suffer. you tell me to leak it and i’ll spread it like wildfire, okay sophie?”

sophia nods firmly, and breathes out for the first time. a breath of relief.

a breath of freedom.

--

you’re dressed more properly today, in a way it’s to not feel so awful all the time. the long walks along the beach have been helping keep your feelings in tact.

it’s been several divorce settlement meetings and you’ve been realizing just how complex sophia’s life is. between all the assets and bank accounts, and royalties from her acting career. 

you’ve been feeling conflicted, a lost sense of what it means to be a partner to her. or at least what it meant before. 

you weren’t there when she made these accomplishments and you can’t understand why you still want to be in her life. 

it’s a feeling that’s haunted you since the moment she disappeared from your life. maybe there’s something you lacked for her to turn to someone else.

maybe you pushed her into the arms of that man.

sometimes you dream about him, about him burning your ranch down. or standing outside your ranch watching you as you work. his nasty grin on full display. 

you usually wake up in cold sweat and reach out for sophia, trying to protect her. but she’s never there. and reality sinks in all over again.

there were days you could barely get out to do the daily chores, sluggish movement as you tried mending your broken heart a second time. 

it’s no use though, you were used and replaced by someone who probably had more wealth than you could imagine.

so you sit a little clouded by your own thoughts, going through these meetings as robotically as possible.

limiting as much as you could, to remove the emotions out of these meetings. you need this divorce to be done, to never return or hear of sophia again.

sophia wasn’t coping much better, after learning about thomas’ motives to move forward with this divorce. it’s been hard for her to focus at the task at hand. 

just yesterday she burned her hand trying to cook breakfast for her and anna. it reminded her how much of her life was in pain. the controlled aspect of her public image made her want to vomit.

and she’s sat beside you, both of you trying to answer the mediators questions. a hurdle that both of you are struggling with. 

throughout the questioning, at multiple times, the lawyers have asked for a break to reconvene with more focus. 

all it has done is caused more stilled awkwardness between you and sophia. silently sitting together, but unable to look at each other.

it feels like detention, that you both were “willingly” sat in.

and then suddenly, like a glass falling off a countertop, sarah begins again.

“let’s discuss custody and visitation rights…” sarah reads out to the pair. 

her counterpart taking a sip of his cold coffee, a displeased frown on his face.

“on page six, the primary custodial rights of the minor child, would still be under miss laforteza’s legal guardianship until the child reaches 18 years old. in which they are legally an adult. currently, with non-disclosure terms applying to the identity of the other parent…” sarah continues reading down the page.

sophia eyes sharpen again.

“i’m sorry–what did you say?” you snap out of your haze. 

“wait–sarah, wait…what?” sophia stands up straighter, hand immediately reaching out for the paper, rapidly flying to page six. eyes furious as she searches for the words.

“whose child?” you ask sarah, also grabbing onto the paper again.

what the hell?

“this wasn’t…this wasn’t in the draft i sent in.” sophia drops the paper back down. it’s there, in the fine print of the divorce papers. 

“you have a child?” the way you ask is chilly, like you’ve audibly flinched back. electrified adrenaline shooting through you.

“give us a minute…” the lawyers both quickly review their materials. rapid typing from sarah’s counterpart and sarah looks confused as well, rereading the section that she just read aloud.

sophia’s voice is stuck in her throat, a sound coming out but it cracks in the end. she watches you scoot back, chair moving along with you.

“i was–i promise i was going to tell you about her, i was going to–” sophia reaches out, hand trying to grab yours. 

but you flinch back, hand flying behind you, shock and the slow rise of anger coming back.

the exact anger you felt when you found out about thomas.

“fuck. you–you always do this sophia. you always fucking do this.” you step back, chair hitting the marbled floor. 

and both lawyers stand up. immediately packing their stuff up. 

“you never tell me what’s going on. seriously a child? a fucking child?”

sophia gets up out of her seat. 

“is it even mine?” you bite out angrily, a suddenly thought making its sickly appearance. you couldn’t stand the idea that sophia would have anyone else’s kid. 

“don't do that! of course she’s yours. i’m not some–it’s yours okay.” the pain is sharp in your heart. you hate that you’re always the last to hear about anything. 

so a small part of you wants to hurt back. how you want her to feel an ounce of your pain.

“how are you so sure it’s mine?” the pain’s making you say things you would never say to sophia. “it could be your fiancé’s, you know?”

sophia’s hand flies out, slapping you across the face. angry tears at the accusation. the sound echoing against the walls. 

your head stays stuck, realizing how much the words hurt her, but really they hurt you too.

“i would never. never! never raise that bastard’s child.” sophia says it with finality. the kind that shuts you up and lets you know not to press further. “so don’t you dare insinuate…”

the lawyers are quick to leave, sending sophia a look that expresses that they’ll talk later. 

you’re glad because you’d rather have this conversation in private.

you finally sit back down, pulling the fallen chair up. and with that, sophia sits down too. 

both of you facing each other for the first time in a long time. but she can’t hold your gaze, repeatedly looking away to hide the anguish that’s creeping up.

she’s trying to wipe away her tears, not wanting to show how your words tore through her. and you’ve sunken into the chair, the exhaustion released from your shoulders.

it smacks you again, the reality of your life.

“we have a daughter?” you ask, feeling the anger being drowned out by the fact that you have a kid now.

“we do.” sophia cries a bit, this wasn’t how she wanted to introduce anna to you. and she certainly didn’t plan it either.

sophia could only think of one person who would try and ruin her like this. the same man that tormented her life, forced her to get this divorce. pulled her abruptly from you, only to carry your child all alone.

both of you continue to sit, waiting for the other to speak up. and it’s killer, the silence that’s waiting.

so you speak up first.

“is she healthy? i know my dad had some issues when he was a kid. and my mom too–” you begin to ramble, spilling all your worries.

“she’s healthy, don’t worry.” and sophia cracks a small smile when you do too. 

“that’s really good, yeah that’s good. um…can i see her?” 

you ask, realizing all that you ever wanted with sophia was actualized, not just a dream that you kept to yourself. in the most sick way, you now have a child.

its not the full dream of having a big family with sophia, but you have a daughter.

more specifically, you have a daughter with sophia. 

with tears in her eyes, sophia agrees to have you come over. to see the young toddler that had your eyes and sophia’s temperament. 

you felt like a part of you had returned, some part of you wasn’t a complete fuckup of your own life.

and sophia spent hours, talking about anna. every detail she thought she could share, she did. how much she enjoyed eating grapes and would scream at the top of her lungs for fun. sophia even showed you photos of her.

she looked happy, a bright wide smile in each photo. when sophia talked about the pregnancy, you felt like you could cry. all the milestones that you missed. especially when you realized sophia went through it alone, none of thomas’ support or presence. 

it hurt to hear how painful it all was for sophia, the hormone changes in her body. the way she felt about herself after the delivery. you wanted to be by her side, a shoulder to cry on as you both navigated having a child together.

so you both cried, you cried asking about her, and she cried listening to you describe how it feels to hear this all for the first time. 

how you dreamed of having a family with her. all along it was there, and she wanted the exact same.

as the night rose, you realized how late it had become. making plans to see anna the next afternoon.

before she left, sophia handed you a photo of anna as a keepsake.

the drive was somber, all you could do was replay the long conversation you had with sophia. there were bits and pieces that stuck with you, how proudly she spoke about having your child. how anna had the mischievous side of you. and the clever side of sophia.

you listened to her talk and even ordered room service for you two.

it was…nice.

almost like you two hadn’t torn each other to shreds many years ago.

it felt familiar, in a distant kind of way. 

you still want to hide how happy you were when sophia agreed to stay for dinner. she doesn’t deserve to know that. your heart was still in pieces, and one dinner wouldn’t change that fact.

but as you drifted off, you tried to wipe the smile off your face. 

truth is, you fail. you fail miserably.

--

this wasn’t how you planned on meeting your firstborn. you hoped it would be when she was born, still crying and wailing at the first introduction to the world. in a swaddle and tiny hands that would try to thrash around.

but instead you stood outside a large metal gate. a large bag in hand as you tried calming your nerves. 

you buzzed yourself in with the gate code, taking a slow look at the house that was supposedly sophia’s.

perfectly shaped hedges and large bed for flowers out front. large slabs of stone crossing the grass. you step forward towards the house. still a little weary of yourself.

maybe you have the wrong house.

you tuck your hat a little lower, feeling a bit self-conscious as you walk forward. cowboy boots clicking against the large slab stones. eventually you knock on the huge square door.

it opens into what could be described in architectural digest’s showroom mansions. large abstract paintings pinned on the walls. a flowing screen of water trickling. an ornate chandelier hanging high up.

there’s a quietness about this life. a different setting but the familiar quiet of living on a ranch. 

you continue to walk through the front, walking into a long extended room. seeing a large red conversation pit in front of you, a rather unusual vase shadowed by flowers placed in the center. 

and to your right is the kitchen, where sophia and another woman stand. both talking to each other animatedly. 

you give a light cough, to which sophia instantly turns to you. eyes going wide when she spots you.

“hi, you’re early.” sophia lets out, she still had another half hour before you were supposed to arrive. 

but instead you stand in her mansion looking as gorgeous as the first day her eyes found yours. 

cowgirl ensemble and her favorite hat of yours to pair.

“didn’t want to be late.” you explain.

lara eventually turns to you, seeing you for the first time. 

all she’s heard about you has been through sophia, and yeah lara means this in the most respectful way possible. 

but she understands why sophia is so crazy about you.

you step closer to them, the familiar clicking of cowboy heels against the floors. you stop on the other side of the counter.

“i really didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” you say placing the bag onto the table. also taking your hat off, placing it on the table.

you look at lara. “and you are?”

“i’m lara, sophia’s bestie.” lara gives a big smile, and you return one too. 

it strikes lara again, how much anna really looks like you. the same eyes that she’s seen when babysitting.

“nice to meet you lara. i’m-” you take off your hat, placing it onto the table, and extending your hand.

“don’t worry, i know and have heard a lot about you.” she gives a knowing smile as she shakes your hand.

sophia rolls her eyes at the smile.

you try looking around for a young toddler, eyes scanning around, but it lands on nothing. 

sophia starts, moving away from the kitchen. “i’ll go get her. stay here.”

“no, let me, you two should catch up.” lara winks at sophia before disappearing into the house. 

and you’re again, left with sophia.

“so i uh, went out and bought some toys.” you start, rummaging through your bag. “but i realized i don’t know what she’d like…so i kind of bought everything.”

you scratch your head a bit. realizing how dumb you looked with a toy from each aisle of the store.

sophia stares at the gesture fondly, looking at all the dolls and books you bought. enough to fill an entire shelf. 

it’s like you’re santa.

“thank you, you really didn’t have to.” sophia rounds the counter, standing close enough for you to inhale her perfume. 

you blink a bit before focusing again.

she sits down in a barstool, and you do the same.

“it’s nothing, i’m happy to.” you say smiling at sophia. you want to reach out and rub her cheek, but the sudden reminder of your reality keeps that urge down.

“how are ya, fia?” you let the nickname drop, you don’t even notice it but she does.

“i’m tired, but i’m happy you’re here.” and sophia means every word of it. 

you try not to let it, but the words blossom in your heart, a familiar kind of bliss from just being around her.

she’s happy to have you in her orbit even in the circumstances. 

you feel the same way, you’re more convinced that there’s more sophia’s not telling you. what other hidden mysterious could she be hiding from you?

“how about you? enjoying california?” sophia asks.

you think about your time here, it’s definitely different from new mexico. there’s more movement around, the beach is really nice. you’ve been swimming most days or taking long walks on the beach.

“it’s really nice out here, i can see why you came.” you didn’t want to make it feel like she chose california over you.

“yeah, it’s a beautiful state.” sophia thinks about how different life is for you back home.

suddenly a voice hits your ears.

“mommy!” a young girl squirms in lara’s arms. trying her best to reach sophia. and with quick steps, sophia eventually grabs a hold of anna. 

you watch the interaction in slow motion, your shoulders tensing when you realize this is real.

you spent the whole car ride over shaking your foot or biting your nail. to say you were excited and nervous is an understatement.

as sophia’s cuddling her a bit, the toddler’s eyes spot you. and she watches you, a sudden interest in your face.

you’re looking at your own daughter. and God, she reminds you of sophia when you were both younger. she’s got sophia’s long hair, but she has your eyes. 

she has your eyes.

it brings tears to your eyes, and you nearly have to step away so you can cry. but instead anna puts her arms out begging you to hold her.

and you do, with shaky arms. she sits comfortably on your side, looking up at you. small strong hands that pull at your shirt.

“hi there.” you say softly. and lara’s standing there taking photos of you three. sophia’s hands are shaking too. scared to let this moment disappear from her grasp.

anna continues exploring you, hand reaching up to pull at your face. letting your skin snap back when she lets go.

“mama!”

anna slaps her hands against your chest, happily clapping to herself and sophia gasps. her smart girl recognized you, from all the photos and stories she’s told her.

“mama? yeah, i’m your mama.” you cry out, tears falling down your face. you wipe them away with your sleeve. anna seeing you cry makes her cry too. 

“no no, please don’t cry, these are happy tears.” you try to wipe away your daughter’s tears.

lips still trembling as you held her tighter. she stops crying when you wipe her tears away too. leaning into you with a soft smile on her face.

“oh my God. this is really cute, but i have to go. it was lovely meeting you, let’s all have brunch sometime soon!” lara whispers to you, grabbing her purse and giving a hug to sophia before leaving.

“lovely to meet you too, lara.” you wave to her, and anna waves too. her hand shaking as she waves away.

“sophia i–she’s real.” you gasp, feeling the toddler mess with the pockets of your shirt.

“she is. want to play with her while i make her a snack?” sophia smiles fondly at you holding onto anna’s hand.

“yeah of course.” 

so you set the toddler down. grabbing each toy that you bought and shaking it in front of her. she seems mildly intrigued by each until you hold out a toy horse in front of her.

she grabs it with interest, immediately trying to bite it, but you pull it away quick enough before she bites down.

instead you show her how to walk the horse on the counter. you start putting other horses down for her. she continues to knock them into each other, much to your dismay.

“she loves horses. i wonder where she got that from?” sophia says teasingly, continuing to place grapes in a small cup. 

“hm, must be you?” you joke back.

you laugh a bit when sophia doesn’t respond. continuing to knock into horses with anna. 

“one time i took her to a carousel and she begged to get on the horse.” sophia continues, and you can imagine the scene. thinking fondly of the two.

“that’s my girl.” you say confidently, “oh i have a gift.” you grab your bag.

taking out a kid’s sized cowboy hat and fitting it onto anna’s head. it’s still too big for her and she gets completely covered by it.

“she’ll grow into it.” you say to sophia, taking it off the kid. the kid laughs a bit at the hat, putting it back on as she continues to play with the horses.

suddenly a thought hits you, and before you can control it, the words come tumbling out. you don’t mean to ask it, at least not in front of anna.

“would you have told me about her?” 

sophia stills, stopping her movements as she look at you, with all the sincerity in her eyes, she answers you.

“yes, i just didn’t want it to come out like that.” she refers to the divorce settlement meetings. “you deserved to know her.”

you nod along, a solemn expression painting the pain of not knowing your own daughter. you wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the bad. 

even for sophia. 

maybe you were still hopelessly in love with her. but now that there’s a child involved, things have shifted.

“i’m sorry for the things i said to you. what i implied, i didn’t mean it.” you say to her. gently adjusting the hat on anna’s head. “i was…angry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

she takes a minute to absorb your apology, quietly moving through the kitchen.

“thank you, and i’m sorry too for everything.” sophia puts a juice box on the plate.

you also take a second to acknowledge her apology, it’s been hard grappling how sophia truly feels about you. whether she means everything she’s done to you.

for now you’ll accept whatever this is. but in you there’s still a very cautious and injured animal. cowering in fear that if you let her in again, she’ll ruin you. 

you grab anna, walking across the kitchen. putting her into a high chair. she pays it no mind as she continues playing with the plastic horse in her hand.

anna continues to mess with the horse, setting it down when she sees her plate of food. slowly eating it as you and sophia both watched.

“thanks for inviting me over.” you look at her, a genuine smile that refuses to leave. 

“of course.” sophia walks to the fridge, opening the door and scanning for beverages. “want something to drink?”

you walk right up behind her, enough to hover but not enough to touch her. she can feel your body heat radiating off.

“water would be good.” you reach into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and stepping back. sophia’s closes her eyes for a couple seconds. feeling a bit flushed at the sudden closeness. 

almost wishes you never moved away. and she turns to look at you, with something behind those eyes, you can’t quite place.

you want to ask her what’s going on. but then she walks away, back to the stove. you close the fridge, trying to shake off that moment.

you take a sip of water and return back to anna’s side. watching her happily eat some animal crackers. a smile erupting when you make silly faces at her.

anna pulls her arms up, begging you to hold her again. you lift her up and hold her on your hip. moving into the kitchen again, standing right next to sophia.

“mm, the famous laforteza sinigang?” you dip your head down, smelling the delicious soup. a familiar scent wafting into your nose.

smells like home.

“yeah, family recipe.” sophia continues stirring the pot every so often.

“smells good,” you say cheekily, and sophia grabs a spoon, cooling it down for you. and then spoons some to you. “and it tastes even better.”

you grab another spoonful and shovel it into your mouth.

“i’m going to miss your cooking.”

“yeah…want to stay for dinner?” sophia asks.

and its a step out. a step out of her comfort zone, an extending hand hoping that you take it.

she really hopes you take her up on the offer.

“that would be lovely.” you reply back, a small smile on your face when sophia’s eyes light up.

you continue to play with anna throughout the afternoon. she liked crashing horses into each other and running around the sofa. all of which would tire you out.

but she kept giggling and ran, so you had to run after her. eventually she settled for a nap, you tucked her in, a small blanket covering her as she slept on the couch.

“she’s out.” you speak up, getting up from the couch. walking towards sophia, and God. maybe the world is blessing her, because now you’re standing inside her home. 

“dinner is ready?” you ask.

she focuses again, nodding as you walk towards her cabinets. grabbing two bowls and utensils, passing them to sophia. 

she fills the bowls with some rice, passing them back to you. you set them on the dinner table, sophia grabs her small pot of sinigang. placing it to the next of you, you grab her plate, filling it with the delicious soup, doing the same for you.

“shall we say grace?” sophia began, sliding her hand over and you took it. 

a spark of electricity at the slight touch, you instantly flinch back a bit. before sliding your hand into hers again.

“dear heavenly father, we thank you for the food that we are about to eat. we ask that you would look protect us and guide us along your path. in jesus’ name, amen.”

“amen.” you say quietly, removing your hand. albeit a bit too quickly for sophia’s liking.

as you begin eating sophia’s sinigang, you think about what it would mean to be in anna’s life. how you could be an active parent despite living in a different state. 

it doesn’t seem feasible, having to travel back and forth to visit anna. and with a lack of reason to stay in new mexico, you suddenly erupt with an idea.

“i’m going to move here.” you say calmly, and sophia stops her spoon. lifting her head to look at you. 

“you’re moving here? like hollywood?” she asks, a little shocked at the sudden interest. 

as far as sophia could remember, new mexico was your home and you were content to live the rest of your life on that ranch.

“not hollywood per se, but definitely close by.” you gesture around, feeling your resolve continue to harden. 

“wow, this is a big move. what uh made you decide that?” sophia squirms in her seat a bit, watching you with purpose. a very secret part of her hopes you say it’s because of her and anna.

“i want to be in anna’s life, actively. traveling back and forth would be too difficult.” you look towards your daughter. who is still happily turning and twisting her horse. a delighted smile on her face.

sophia takes her time to reply, taking another sip of soup before leaning back in her chair. hands shuffling as she thinks of a thoughtful response.

“what about charlie? the horses? the chickens?” sophia asks.

she’s elated to hear that you want to be in anna’s life. it’s more than what she asked for, and to be a consistent part of anna’s life would be terrific. 

“i’m planning on buying a ranch out here. i’ll bring charlie, the horses, everything.” you explain. 

it was an idea that popped into your head earlier, a realization that you wanted your life near anna…and sophia. to still have your lifestyle, but be able to visit often and go out to the beach.

“you sure?” sophia continues to eat her food, and you return back to your bowl. feeling a sense of purpose surging through you, instead of aimless days without a direction, you could be a present parent.

“yeah, i’ve decided. and you know me, once i’ve decided it’s set in stone.” you give her a big grin, looking at her briefly. her eyes searching for something deeper, when a grin also appears on her face.

“well then, if your heart is set on it, then no one can stop you.” she explains.

“i’m going to be a cowgirl out here in california, who would have thought?” you grin continues to expand.

sophia rolls her eyes at that, but she can’t deny that deep down she’d love for you to be closer to her.

“don’t go too crazy now.” sophia comments, filling your empty plate with more soup, to which you happily eat more of. nearly emptying the bowl in less than thirty seconds.

to which she offers another filling.

“do they have rodeos out here? we should take anna when she gets older.” you comment. 

sophia doesn’t mistake the use of ‘we’ when you asked.

“yes, there’s some big ones out here, you’d be surprised.” she says, standing up to pick anna out of her high chair.

“hi cutie, want to sit with us?” sophia walks back over, anna perched on her lap when she sits back down. immediately her baby hands are trying to grab sophia’s bowl of food. hunger in her eyes.

“well, she’s definitely yours.” sophia nods at her kid, still trying to reach her small arms for the bowl, frustrated when sophia sits back. “your mom told me you used to do that as a baby. even threw a couple tantrums.”

sophia giggles to herself, seeing you fluster, the embarrassment rising your neck.

“whatever…” you drag out. a definitely big smile still plastered on your face as you watched your daughter try to struggle out of sophia’s grasp.

you think you could get used to this life, a life with anna and sophia.

‐‐

you continue to toss the keys in your hand as you hum along to a song you heard on the radio. the day has been long gone, and now the night is coming to a close too. after spending nearly all afternoon and dinner with sophia and anna, you’ve come to a couple conclusions.

you were definitely still in love with sophia, even if the world were to flip upside down tomorrow, those feelings would never dim.

you didn’t want a divorce, not now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

you were going to be the best parent you could be.

it wasn’t something that you were happy to announce, considering sophia still had her fiancé. the same one that she conveniently doesn’t talk about. and honestly you aren’t too sure why.

you both have skirted the conversation about him in her life. as far as you knew, that was a person she willingly agreed to marry, she had no reason to state otherwise. but she still kept your kid?

that made everything more confusing. the lack of thomas in her life. every meeting that’s been had, every inch of sophia’s life wouldn’t lead one to believe that she’s happily engaged.

there are no photos of him in her home, even when you went poking in her bathroom, there was no sign of someone else that lived here. it’s unsettling…

you don’t know how to bring it up to her.

like hey, so what about your fiancé that you happen to be cheating on me with, but also you’re technically cheating on him with me?

there was something still lost in the grand picture, he didn’t fit into sophia or anna’s life. something’s not right, and you need to get to the bottom of it, before you lose your wife for good.

these thoughts continue to consume you, so much so you barely recognize the voice that’s calling out to you from the hotel lounge.

“hey neighbor!” and in front of you is manon, wide smile and a long dress to match. you quickly stop yourself before crashing into her. taking a step back before giving her a smile too.

“hey, how have you been?” you ask, subtly noticing the get-up. clearly she’s had a night out, a fancy one.

“i’m okay, came back from a failed date.” she points at herself, a small clutch in hand and sparkly earrings that dangle under her long curly hair.

“ouch, his fault?” you ask. both of you walk towards the bar, pulling her chair out and pushing her in. as you sit next to her.

“her fault, actually.” manon says confidently. you flag a bartender down to order two martinis. “she kept talking about herself all night, didn’t ask me a single question.”

you wince a bit, feeling sympathetic towards manon’s shitty night. the bartender slides over the drinks and you immediately take a sip.

“sorry for assuming, and that’s got to suck. you even dressed up so nicely!” you explain, taking a sip and listening to manon continue to complain.

“no harm no foul, most people don’t know i date women.” she explains, placing her clutch onto the bar counter. “and look! i even pulled my favorite dress out.”

she points at herself, and you can’t deny, it does look very good on her. form fitting and silver accents along the neckline. anyone would struggle to keep their eyes off her on a date.

“sorry to hear that, she wasn’t worth your time.” you continue to sip on your drink as she replays the story to you. telling you how it was doomed from the start, the lack of chivalry, the messy eating, the self-centered monologue, all of which made manon wish she was curled up in her hotel room, watching shitty rom-coms instead.

by then you two have had more than a couple drinks, and you can tell it’s definitely affecting manon more than you. her speech is a little slurred. her eyes are a bit unfocused, and her hands keep reaching out to touch your knee.

you’re not uncomfortable per se, but it definitely strikes you how forward manon is. batting her lashes and listening to you intently talk. almost as if she’s lost in a vision of you.

“alright, clearly you’ve had your fill. let’s get you to your room.” you grab a dizzy manon out of her chair, tucking her clutch under your arm. instantly she pulls all her weight onto you, you brace yourself, almost tipping over.

“sorry, had a bit too much.” manon giggles to herself, and you try your best to counter the weight. having her lean into your arms as you both walk away from the bar. slow steps as she continues to giggle to herself. 

you don’t notice it, not with how hard you’re trying to keep manon upright. the weight of her body trying to make you tip over.

but sophia’s here. she’s here and she’s shaking. in her hand is the cowboy hat you left in her house. 

she had found it when cleaning up the kitchen, hoping to see you again. so she drove over, a smile all over her face as she sang all the songs on the radio.

but now, no. no she’s furious. there’s an unnamed woman hanging off your arm. clearly interested with the way she’s hanging onto you like she was oh so weak.

fucking bullshit.

sophia’s pulled that move on you long before this woman even breathed in your direction. she’s gripping onto your cowboy hat with jealousy brimming in her heart.

and she might just snap. she’s going to snap this woman in half if she doesn’t get her hands off her wife. 

you are none the wiser, walking manon into the elevator and selecting the top floor. stepping back and begging the elevator to fly up, the doors are closing when suddenly in steps another woman.

sophia.

her eyes are filled with rage as she stares at manon next to you. 

“sophia! what are you doing here?”

you’re more than shocked to see her, she’s never come to visit you unless it was to discuss the divorce. and here she was standing in an elevator with you and a drunk manon going up to the top floor.

she stops her glaring long enough to focus on you. hat in hand that she slides back onto your head. “you left this. at my place.” 

she goes back to glaring at the other woman. and manon’s seeming to get the hint, even in her drunk state. pulling away from your arm a bit. and sophia can see it in her eyes, the recognition of her face. she knows exactly who sophia laforteza is.

“and who might you be?” sophia asks, it’s neither friendly not mean. but it’s definitely not kind. 

“i’m manon, living next door.” she gestures to you, eyes more alert as sophia tries to subtly put distance between you two. stepping in far enough that you back into your corner.

“i see.” sophia eyes her more, satisfied that the woman’s stepped away from you. and even more satisfied that her hand is off of you.

the elevator can’t go fast enough with the tense energy in the air. sophia takes a moment to situate herself, happy to have kept her away.

the elevator dings and all three of you walk out. and manon’s really drunk, because she nearly trips over herself, almost falling on the floor.

you reach out quickly, scooping her up before she fell. and with a few adjustments she’s back onto her feet.

“are you okay?” you ask, manon nods a bit trying her best to stabilize herself.

and sophia, well she’s watching like a hawk. ready to swoop in the second manon gets too close.

you walk manon to her room quickly, opening the door and setting her down on a chair. and sophia’s not exactly happy at the sight. it should be her being taken home by you, you keeping her upright if she was too wobbly. this kind of chivalry was supposed to be reserved for her. 

she shakes her head unhappily.

and with a quick nod from manon that she was all good, you bid her goodnight, walking away with sophia in tow. 

sophia gives manon a quick look over her shoulder before the door closed. and walks right after you, all the way into your hotel room. she thinks long and hard, about the next words she’s going to say to you, because really…these emotions have been erupting in her all day.

she walks in after you, closing the door behind her.

but she settles on these next words carefully, eyes wild and hair even wilder. 

“are you fucking her?” sophia enunciates every syllable, she always did this whenever she got serious. wanted to make it obvious what she’s asking, no chance for you to stand there looking confused. 

she hates when you look at her like you’re confused.

your eyes nearly jump out of your skull, you immediately let out a sharp gasp.

“no, of course not!” you reply, feeling a little upset at the question. 

“not that it’s any of your business.” 

it hits both of you like a train when you say it. in truth, you want it to hurt, you want sophia to tell you everything was one big mistake. want her to snap out of it, want her to pull you in by the belt of your pants. to fuck you like you meant something.

but you want it to sting, she doesn’t have the right. doesn’t have the ability to dictate what you are to her, not with him still in the picture. you’re digging for more, for her to explain his unusual place in her life. 

“say that again.” 

she dares you, eyes hard like steel. 

you step close enough to breathe it in her face, she doesn’t step back, body tight like a rubberband. and you think if you breathe in the wrong, maybe right, direction, she’ll blow up.

“i said…it’s none of your business.” you hold your own, standing firmly. she stares at you, listening to you try to defend yourself . “it’s none of your business. who i fuck. who i kiss. who i touch.”

you continue to corner her a bit, and she’s getting angrier by the second, you know in a second she’d be all over you like a predator, she has that gaze.

“oh! you must be out of your depth here.” she pushes you with a light laugh at the end of sentence. grabbing you by your shirt, hand clenched to the point her knuckles turn white. you feel like you’ll snap, either your shirt or you first, you don’t know. “it is my Goddamn business.”

she snarls the words out, an anger thats fueled by jealousy and the tense sexual tension that always lingers when you two are too close. 

“funny how you think i’d let you touch someone else, with what’s supposed to be mine.”

she pushes you, enough to make you stumble a bit, your hat falling onto the ground. then grabbing onto you again, pulling you straight into the bedroom. each step like a sentence to the dungeon, but you’re more than happy to be locked here. with all her attention and anger directed at you.

“you want to play dumb? fine. let me remind me who you belong to.” 

you fall backwards onto the mattress, ready to push her under you, an undercurrent of wanting to control the pace nearly making you go tunnel vision. but sophia’s got her mind set. eyes ablaze as she pulls your belt out of your jeans. holding your body down with her hips. she stares at you angrily, a need to remind you where you are. 

under her. 

she ties your hands in a quick fashion, pulling the belt until there’s tension, keeping your hands above your head. 

you try pulling against the bedpost, but it doesn’t give.

she pushes your shirt up, until she can scratch your stomach with her nails, then she leans down, hair in beautiful waves falling around you, until all you can breathe and see is her.

she pushes your pants down a bit, not enough to take it off, but enough to let the pressure of your pants alleviate. and then she stops midway. your pants are lifted off your hips but not enough to move anywhere else.

“either you tell me who this belongs to.” she snaps the pants back onto your skin. hand immediately back on you, pressed against you, not enough to move, but with enough to make you want to buck your hips. “or i leave you here. your choice.” 

she says it in that tone, the one that lets you know there’s no other choice, not if you still want to be in her good graces. 

“yours fia, i swear.” you groan a bit, trying to find some pressure to alleviate the ever present problem in your pants. “all of me belongs to you.”

she smiles big, in that smile that lets you know she’s won, and she’s going to be rewarded heavily for it.

“good answer baby.” she taps your cheek a bit, liking the way you keep trying to touch her, like you deserved to after pulling that with her. 

“i would say you kept up a good fight,” she takes a long lick over your stomach, feeling it tense under her touch, “but we know you’ll end up like putty in my hands.”

she’s reeling in her win, a cocky grin that won’t leave her face. you nearly whimper at the contact, she’s barely touched you and you’re taut, trying to arch into her, for some contact at the very least.

“please fia, let me touch you.” you whine again, trying your best to get out of your restraints. its driving you mad how you can’t touch her. can’t feel her the way you want.

“not tonight. not until i'm satisfied.” she leans back, unbuckling your pants and staring down at you, like she’s caught her prey in a trap. 

you continue to try and move your hips, like a caught animal trying so desperately to be released, but it’s no use. not when she’s got you finally where she wants you. 

“fuck fia, please, need to touch you.” you try to beg, but it only spurs her on, oh how the mighty have fallen. she shakes her head, giving you a kiss on the cheek before climbing off of you, pulling herself off the bed.

she takes her time, tonight she’s in charge, and she’ll take everything she can get. especially with the way you’re trying so hard to watch her, head trying to look at her despite the restraints holding you in place. it drives her insane, knowing she still has that much of an effect on you, tracking all of her movements without trying to miss a single second. 

she can feel herself getting hot by how hard you’re staring at her. a slight sheen on sweat on the back of her neck. you wish you could just rip these restraints off you, to show her who she belonged too. but a deep part of you is just as enticed by this side of her. 

desire pooling in your lower stomach and you nearly jump when she takes off your shoes, sliding them off quickly. you don’t even care what she does, as long as she’s touching you, you’re more than okay with that. 

her hands slide up along your pants, and really you feel like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. the way she intentionally drags it out, slow enough to keep you engaged but not enough to give you relief. 

“fia, please.” you beg again, and again. she swears she’s never heard you so desperate, at the mercy of her control. she could get used to this. and soon enough, she’s pulling your pants and boxers off, enough to alleviate the pressure that’s been confining your lower half.

“please what?” she says with anticipation in her eyes, she’s never seen you so out of control. so much want to let her do whatever she wants. it makes her pride swell.

“please, touch me.” you moan out, and you’re so tightly wound that it almost feels like you’re in pain. pain of not having her all over you. desperate and whining for attention.

she likes the sound of that. pulling herself forward, settling for sitting on top you. light touches dancing on your hip. not close enough to where you truly want her, but a relief that she is even touching you at all. the hard exterior that you’ve put up over the years is crumbling, and of course is being unraveled by her.

she continues her light touches until she gets lower, already sensitive to the touch, trying your best to get some movement against her hand. but she holds still, liking the way you’re completely at her will.

then she spits in her hand, enough to get your cock wet, spreading it all over. you moan at the contact, letting yourself relax again, getting that much needed relief after all.

sophia’s got other plans in mind.

“so, you let anyone touch you?” she says, continuing to stroke you up and down, letting the build up confuse your brain, “do you, slut?” 

you’ve never heard sophia talk like this before, the way she stares down at you like you’re nothing and everything at the same time. the way she stops her hand when you don’t respond.

“answer me.” it’s not particularly loud, but it makes you want to shrink. 

“n-no, i don’t.” you whimper a bit, trying to buck your hips again, to which she completely lets go of you. a growing dissatisfaction in her eyes. 

“you don’t, slut? so what was that back there?” she growls out. 

“i-i i really-she was drunk. i was helping her back. please sophia, please touch me.” you beg, trying to move your legs and by now sophia’s getting irritated. 

“don’t let that happen again.” sophia goes back to stroking you again, and you nearly flinch at the contact, it was so sudden and gentle that you wanted to chase after it.

“i won’t, i promise! please faster.” you continue to beg, head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to give you a growing pleasure in your stomach. she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a reward for the correct answer.

“my little slut will get what she wants.” sophia says it out loud, but mostly it’s for herself. a direct and open claim of you. you’ve never been so worked up before, all this teasing and lack of control is making every sense more heightened.

“yes, please, fuck.” you moan out everytime she drags her hand up the top, a delicious pressure that has you leaking out pre-cum. you’re breathing heavy, head to one side as you try to fight the growing orgasm that’s closing in on you. the feeling of sophia all over you again has you unraveling earlier than you were expecting. “i’m your slut.”

you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, just begging for a release, one that sophia will happily grant you if you answer this next question correctly. she speeds up her movements, you continue to let out begging words at her mercy. 

“so, who’s is this?” she makes it a point to squeeze you suddenly, drawing a gasp and some more pre-cum flowing from the head. the increased pace is making you want to pass out, and all you can feel is the mounting orgasm that will explode soon.

“fuck, yours, i swear to God, it’s yours, i’m yours.” you ramble a bit, trying so very desperately to chase after your own release, it’s a beautiful sight to sophia. just a little more and she has you begging for a single touch.

she doesn’t mistake how you try to bite at something, anything to contain the inevitable orgasm. you bite into the closest thing you have which is a small pillow to your right. and your body tenses like it usually does, a tightness in your stomach and you try and push into her hand. 

“fuck, sophia, please, don’t stop.” you continue to push into her hand, and she can feel herself drooling at the sight, wiping it away with the back of her other hand. and like a drawn bow, the arrow is released.

“fuck oh God, fia. fuck, i’m cumming.”

you shake a bit as you cum, legs shaking and torso taut, arching off the bed, the cum spilling out in streams. 

all landing on your abdomen. 

but sophia doesn’t stop, she continues to stroke you through the orgasm, your body convulsing at the motion, it drives you insane. you can feel your body feeling overloaded with stimulation. 

“fuck-sophia, please,” you try to gain some control, the continuous stroking making you cum more than you’ve ever cum before. “give-give me a second.”

she gives you a few more strokes before letting go, you’re breathing hard, sweat glistening under the lights, and God, sophia swears she’ll never let you walk away from her again. as she watches you try to get your focus back. instead, she pulls herself on top of you, resting herself right on top of your spent cock.

she pulls her dress up, just above her hips, dragging herself on top of your cock, a slow rocking motion against you, and you let out a gasp at the contact again. your brain is fuzzy and barely recovered when she starts moving. 

she has every intent of making this as pleasurable for herself.

you can feel it, the lack of panties in the way. she came all the way here for one thing only, it only brings you faster to attention, the blood flowing straight to your cock once more.

she continues to ride the underside of your cock, small moans and quick breaths pulling from that gorgeous throat of hers. 

you’re mesmerized, eyes in a trance, loving the way she’s using you for her own pleasure. to chase after her own orgasm. you try pulling at the restraints again, trying to desperately to touch her. 

she smiles through all of it, enjoying you trying so hard to get your hands out of your belt. she smells sweet, and the mixed smell of everything is driving you insane.

“fia, please, let me touch you.” you’re pleading with her, barely able to get out a single word without pulling again. and she finds it insanely hot, how you can’t even focus on anything. eyes flying around, trying to pull yourself free, trying to watch her at the same time, trying so very hard.

she swears she can cum just from watching you, her continuous rocking motion making her approach her own orgasm. it’s the delicious pressure on her clit that makes her stay still. wants to see you continue to beg, wants that torture to ruin you. 

until all you know and want is her.

“mm, maybe if you’re good i’ll let you.” sophia returns back to riding herself on top of you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your abs. a reminder that she has every right to touch you anywhere. it’s bringing you to your own orgasm too. and in a deft motion, she pulls herself back, seeing your cock angry red, trying to jump at the loss of contact. 

she smirks at that, slowly lifting her hips to slid it near her hole. the tip just barely prodding the entrance, and with a slow controlled movement, she sinks down onto you, inch by inch, she takes her time. enjoying the delicious stretch, her hands scratching your stomach, where just seconds ago she had left kisses. each lipstick mark like a claim of possession.

“you look so good like this,” she drags a singular nail around, continuing to slowly lift her hips again, and rocking back down. “such a good little slut for me.” 

“fia, fia, fia.” you chant her name like a mantra. caught under her spell and wanting nothing more than to spill everything inside of her. “fuck, i’m close.”

“already?” sophia smirks, and really she’s teasing you. she knows how wound up you are, how sensitive you are after your first orgasm, one slight clench and you would spill inside of her. 

so she tests you, giving you a clench that has your eyes prickling with tears. you can barely contain yourself, twitching wildly at the sudden pressure. wanting so badly to touch her, any part of her. 

she leans in close, giving you another squeeze that has you convulsing once more.

“fia, please, i’m so close.” you whine out. 

she’s on cloud 9 right now, clenching again and then you’re spilling inside of her. loud pants and whines ripping through your already dry throat. cumming with every bit of energy that you have within you. 

she leans close again, kissing you wildly through your orgasm. hair clenched in between her fingers. you’re letting out pretty sounds out of your mouth through each kiss. still trying so hard to pull against the leather belt. tears and cum spilling out of you. and sophia thinks you look glorious like this under her.

you eventually feel the ebbs of your orgasm dying out, sophia still wrapped around you, warm heat that is making you lightheaded.

“Jesus Christ, fia. i’ve never cum that hard.” you get out in between gasps, eyes closed and trying your best to calm your heart. it’s beating faster than you’ve ever felt it, and if you weren’t so spent you would realize sophia’s chasing after her own orgasm. using her fingers to bring her to her own orgasm, with your cock still nestled inside. 

“mm, fuck, that’s good, stay inside.” she whines a bit, continuing to rub herself, rocking herself against you, and really you can’t take it anymore, nearly losing yourself in the throes of passion, almost blacking out. but the sensation keeps you close, the persistent tension against the belt.

“fuck!” she comes tumbling down, orgasm causing her to clench around you, shaking on top of you and then she falls on top of you. cock still very much inside of her as she continues to cum. you try your best to give her kisses, peppering her cheek with them as she’s spent too. heavy breathing, chest to chest, and your eyes are bleary. 

sophia’s the first to move, pushing herself up, enough to have both of her arms holding her up on top of you. her eyes are so filled with emotion, the same kind of emotion she held in her eyes when she stood across from you on that altar, under God, and with everyone in the church. 

she wants to cry, everything’s been so emotional, how she had yearned for you for years. regretting ever leaving you, carried your child and stood by everything that she did in hopes that you two would return to each other. when everything isn’t as messy as it once was. 

just two girls trying to be with each other.

like both of you intended. and by no means is this meant to save everything between you, but for now, for this very moment where your two souls are connected like puzzle pieces, she’ll allow herself this relief. 

in this moment you were hers and she was yours, through and through. 

so she dips back down, giving you a kiss that’s pouring every emotion she can possibly muster up, every ounce of grief, pain, love, and yearning born from her love for you. she doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she hopes it means something to you. wet tears hitting your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. trembling lips that are trying to hold back the pain of losing you, over and over again.

“fia?” you ask her, watching the way the cries continue to slip out, silently crying on top of you. she continues her downpour of tears even when she slips the belt off your hands. your hands immediately on her face again. trying so desperately to stop her tears. so moved by your action that she cries all over again. head sinking to your shoulder.

two naked souls trying to have a conversation with each other. 

you hold her in your hands, keeping her close and softly rubbing her back in comforting circles. and she cries in your arms. wrapping around your torso too. you hold her for the whole night, until her cries turn into soft breaths and her tears have dried. until she’s that girl that you asked to marry when you both were bright-eyed and had dreams of conquering the world.

you hold her close long after she’s fallen asleep. moving to another bed in the suite after you’ve cleaned up the mess between you two. the softness of her eyes hidden under calmness, gently brushing her hair as she continues to sleep through the night. 

you eventually succumb to sleep too. holding her in your arms and hers securely around yours too. in the middle of the night she woke up in a panic, trying desperately to find you, only to realize you were right in front of her. soft snores and a heavy arm laid on her side. 

she kissed each part of your face gently, just to prove to herself you were here. before closing her eyes again. drifting off to a dreamland where your family was all together, laughter and screams filling the air.

‐‐

last night was something.

you didn’t know how to explain it, and you’re sure sophia wouldn’t be able to either.

but last night, you both quickly cross the threshold of just ex partners trying to coparent. crossing the threshold of just trying to coexist in each other’s worlds without crashing into each other. but honestly, did you really think you could just coexist with sophia?

the same woman that stole your heart when she brought you charlie as a small pup from her uncles dog’s litter. the same woman that was your personal nurse when you almost got trampled by a bull and had to be bed-ridden for weeks.

no, you could never simply coexist with her. your lives were intertwined as if by the simple laws of nature. by the simple fact that she was yours and you were hers. through legality and spirituality you two could never completely separate from each other.

and by God’s grace, you were here. running your hands through her hair gently. an ache in your heart and soul to reconnect with the one woman who had spoiled love for you. it drives you mad with want and resentment, wanting for her to be yours again. no need for anyone to interfere.

if last night was any indication of her feelings for you, then you’d be a fool to think she wants anyone other than you. but still everything is so confusing with her, how she refuses to speak about him. you want answers, last night wasn’t just some jealous fueled hook up to you. it has to mean more. it simply has to, or else…did you just give your heart away again?

sophia stirs under your touch, a light smile at the touch, she leans into it, enjoying the way you continue to massage her scalp. it’s relaxing and reminds her of the small acts of affection that you love giving her.

“hi.” you whisper gently, liking the way she hums lightly. eventually placing a hand over your heart, just holding it there. feeling it pulse under her hand. 

“hi, good morning.” you listen to her morning voice, like a songbird it’s tickles your ears. you smile wide before inching closer, placing a quick kiss onto her lips. to which she pulls you in closer, a long and searing kiss filling both of your desires.

“so, last night?” you cock an eyebrow, you weren’t playing any games and you hoped she wasn’t either. instead sophia curls into herself, feeling hot heat rise to her cheeks, dusting them in pink.

“last night…yeah…”sophia drags out. trying her best to hide under the covers again.

“nuh uh, come on, what was all that?” you ask. pulling the covers away, revealing an extremely embarrassed sophia. she instead covers her face with her hands. trying to roll to the other side. “fia?”

“ugh fine, i was…i was jealous okay!” sophia lets go of her hands, dropping them to her side, but still unable to look at you in the eyes. you chuckle a bit, to which she hides herself again. 

this time you don’t bother trying to unveil her.

“yeah i got that,” you roll your eyes in amusement, oh it was clear as day she was jealous. she always was whenever someone got to close to you, or even lingered a little too long. this wasn’t the unusual part, sophia rarely acted on her jealousy. instead letting you respectfully tell the other party that you were taken, because in her head. it was hotter that way. it was hotter for her you to state how you were taken than for her to intervene.

“but seriously fia, you’ve never pulled that. i mean ever.” you continue, dropping the amusement in your voice.

“i know…and it’s so stupid, i just…” she continues to voice out her embarrassment, “everything between us is so rocky, and i needed this. i needed to prove to myself that i’m still who you want.” 

your eyes soften at the sudden vulnerability. instead of embarrassment, sophia lets her hands drop. sitting up straight, half of the duvet still covering her. and you sit up too. 

“fia…what do you mean?” you ask, taking her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on her hand. to calm her through this vulnerable moment, and show that you were here for her.

“i guess, what i’m trying to say is. i still need to know that you want me, and i know it’s selfish. but my God, i still want you, i always have, even when i left, everything in me still wants you.” she rambles out, her other hand moving in a dramatic motion, eyes that are darting everywhere, eventually focusing on you.

“and thomas?” you drop the question. the topic that you both have skirted around since your arrival. especially when you refused to let her explain herself when you left your ranch two years ago. you ask it in a quiet voice, feeling yourself sink at the question. 

you weren’t ready for the answer, but it was now or never.

“thomas, he.” sophia runs her hand through her hair, a long sigh causing her to deflate. “he isn’t my fiancé, at least not willingly. he-his dad, i signed my acting contract with his dad.” she continues to speak, a hidden vulnerability that’s making her shrink herself, head dipped low, almost as if she’s embarrassed. 

you hate the sight of it.

“i signed a contract when i first got here, right after i landed my first big role. everyone wanted to book me, so i signed with his company. and thomas he-he fucking used that contract against me.”

you nod, but there’s a sudden burst of anger growing in your heart. 

“he fucking-he fucking made me get the divorce.”

she dropped the bomb, and you’re leaning back now, shock hitting your system all over again. “sophia, what?” you gasp out, eyes confused and she looks up, watery eyes staring into you.

“he used the contract against me, he knew i had a spat with one of his dad’s buddy directors. i walked out on the filming, my manager made it seem like i had health issues. but i couldn’t stand him, so i left, i left an entire project. everyone was mad, i mean his dad almost threatened to cut me.” sophia continues to talk, a tear falling and you can’t even utter a word.

“you can’t just leave a project unscathed, you could get blacklisted out here. and fucking thomas, he used that against me. he had evidence of me walking out, and he said he would leak it, it would’ve destroyed my career. i was fucking blackmailed.” 

sophia continues to cry, angry tears rolling off her cheeks, much different from the ones she had last night.

“sophia…” you say gently, trying to calm her anger, even though the one inside of you was growing.

“and he fucking asked to get married. said it would fix everything, he would delete the evidence and i would be able to get back to my career. and i said yes, i never should’ve. should’ve just let my career die, but then he got records of us, our marriage. said he would leak that too, fuck.”

you continue to rub small circles, a gentle reminder that you were here, on her side.

“so i came back, to new mexico. i never wanted to ask for a divorce, i swear to you. and when you agreed, my heart shattered. i promised myself i would never love anyone the way i love you. we-we kept on being together, and i fell even harder than i could remember, i still wanted you as much as the first day i met you.” she brings her hand up to hold your head, vulnerable eyes searching for yours.

“i wanted something to keep, even if i had to be miserable for the rest of my life, i wanted to keep something of yours. i wanted to carry your kid. it was the only way i could have you close but keep you safe.” she cries a bit, still holding onto you, trembling fingers dancing along your jaw.

“anna. God gave me anna. God gave me her and i would never trade her for anything. she’s ours and she will always be.” 

“sophia, damn it.” your words are unstable, and you let out a single tear, the pain of thinking about her for two years coming back. all the pain and yearning for each other never subsided. for either side.

“i know, i know baby.” she cries continuing to cradle your jaw, leaving a kiss so soft it felt like a petal had fallen on your face. “it was selfish–but it was all i had. i knew our time was almost up, and i needed something of yours. it’s so selfish, but i could never regret having her.” 

you know in some twisted way what she was expressing. that night, two years ago, you wanted to leave something behind too. something for sophia to remember you by, the willingness to do everything she wanted, to even leave her with the possibility of carrying your child. you wanted it all.

“sophia, i was selfish too.” you confess, remembering how you felt that night, in the midst of the passion you realized how badly you wanted to leave your imprint on her too. “i’ve always, and i mean always, dreamed of having a big family with you. so when you asked me to, you know…i gave into that instinct, because it’s all i ever wanted.”

she stares at you, heart exploding in a thousand directions. she remembered very early on in your marriage, you bringing up wanting kids, maybe as a simple comment. but she couldn’t deny how happy you looked playing with her nieces and nephews.

“you want kids with me?” sophia asks.

“of course i do, fia.” you reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i always did, and i always will. even now i still do.” 

you shift a bit, pulling her into a hug with how stunned she looks at you. another explosion of warmth from her heart. even with a tormented past that held her instincts back, how she aches just the same for you. it drives her mad, you wanted everything she wanted and more.

you rub her back gently, enjoying the way she’s holding you so close. she drops her head onto your shoulders, and you do too. just contently laying on each other.

“so, what do we do?” you ask. you’re hoping sophia won’t go through with the divorce. everything that was shared here, in the bed that you two share, it’s something worth preserving.

she lifts her head off your shoulder, taking both of your hands in hers, a determined look in her eyes. 

“you remember lara?” she asks, a small smile on her eyes.

“of course.” you reply, pulling one of her hands towards you to give a small kiss, just across each knuckle.

“well, we found something, some dirt on thomas.” she starts, reaching for her phone and opening the photo album. “we’re going to leak it to the press, everything, all his partying problems, the coercion of marriage, my acting contract.”

she shows you everything, including the unsavory of parts of thomas’ addictive lifestyle. she even points out the clauses in thomas’ fathers inheritance. it’s all there in fine print, this would kill even the highest star’s reputation.

“but sophia, won’t this kill your career?” you ask, realizing there’s no way for her to get out of this freely. surely his team will try and ruin her, ruin everything that she’s worked so hard towards.

“we’re going to leak it to multiple sources, anonymously of course. we’ll leak it tomorrow morning. it’ll be the first day of freedom, i won’t be under his clutches anymore.” she says exasperatedly, dropping the phone onto her bed. 

“tomorrow? why tomorrow?” you ask, going back to holding her hands. 

“i wanted to tell you first, everything about me and my past, you should hear it from me. i didn’t want to leak it and have you find out that way. you deserved to hear it from me.” 

“thank you.” it meant more to you than she could ever know. you were tired of hearing about everything after the fact, almost like an afterthought. to hear about everything firsthand was a relief, she considered how you would feel and took the time to explain the situation to you.

she gives you a kiss, a soft one. one that blooms feelings of love in your chest once more.

“i’m sorry, for everything.” she expresses. 

“i know fia.” you respond, giving her a kiss that makes her wrap her arms around you, trying to deepen the kiss when you pull back. “but i need time, to process everything. i don’t think i can give you my heart as it is right now.” 

you want to, but how could you be expected to offer your heart on a silver platter even with everything that’s been revealed. a part of you still resents her for what she’s refused to tell you, you know it was because of thomas but still there are things that wound your heart. and you need time.

you two were by no means perfect, but you would try everything to make it so that you two could work. 

and sophia, she would try ten times harder to win your heart back.

she swore to God she would.

--

a/n: the much anticipated pt2 of the 'save a horse, ride a cowgirl' fic. i hope i have brought the story to justice. stay safe and stay healthy everyone. cheers, hope you've enjoyed!

[wuhluhsuh]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀˚⠀⠀⠀⁺⠀⠀ര🍎⠀⠀、⠀✎⠀⠀유나

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀˚⠀⠀⠀⁺⠀⠀ര🍣⠀⠀、⠀✎⠀⠀유나

[wuhluhsuh]

THIS IS SO GOOD !!!! IM TUNED TF IN

save a horse, ride a cowgirl | sophia laforteza

synopsis: the wife you never wanted to see again has re-appeared like a phantom, with nothing else but "let's get a divorce". you have more than a couple words to say to that effect.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), tension, marriage troubles, guns (no one dies!), cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, more...

wc: 14.5k

"you'll probably leave later, anyway it's love made in the usa"

(part 2)

it was on a tuesday. 

up by 5am, ready to get the daily chores moving. bold strides across your bedroom, feeling the hardwood creak under your feet as you cross into the bathroom. you give yourself a once over as you brush your teeth. the soreness from your daily activities wears into your body. 

loose hair falling over your brows as you wash your face. the water trickling through your hands, and a little wax to keep your hair back. 

afterwards, you’re whistling to yourself, light tunes that keep you in motion as you slide on the long thick denim pants, holster on the right side, and boots that have worn in over the years. 

your favorite black leather pair.

there’s nothing more serene than being in the quiet, the soft sounds of animals, and the wind blowing at the windchimes.

and soon you’re out the door, chewing on a stick. taking a long view of the most gorgeous yellows and oranges peering just over the horizon, lifting slowly into the sky.

signaling yet another day on this planet.

and with the click of the heel you’re headed down to the barn. stride in pace with the snapping of your fingers.

you can already see charlie in the distance, curled up next to the barn. soft breathing as his ears twitch.

you let out a whistle as you approach. and charlie has shot up like a lightning bolt. eyes alert and ears forward. the cattle dog making a mad dash for you when he spots you in the distance.

he halts to a quick stop and sits in front of you, panting loudly.

“good boy, let’s get our day started.” you give him some pets as you continue to travel down the graveled path. he lets out a loud bark and runs for the chicken coop. 

the chickens are clucking loudly, already rounding towards the fence. 

they know the drill, the sight of you in the early morning means feeding, and they’re happily clucking.

you unlatch the small door to the coop, reaching inside for a couple of eggs, and dropping them into a basket. you quietly fill the buckets of chicken feed, checking the troughs thoroughly and then closing the gate behind you, the basket full of eggs bouncing against your leg as you leave it on a crate.

you’re rounding the back to fill their pots with fresh water when you hear charlie.

your head perks up and you stride towards the sound. it's the loud kind of bark that hits you in the chest. sound rattling your body as he growls at something in the distance. 

your eyes following a dust trail that reveals a big car. one that’s unfamiliar, and one that definitely does not belong on these paths.

the dust from the ground is forming a cloud. shielding it until it comes to a stop by the entrance of your ranch. 

a big shiny grey suburban parks right out front.

“this can’t be any good, charlie.” you’re walking towards the car, listening to the heels click as you try and look into the car. 

it’s tinted and the dust cloud is settling. 

you get close enough before you shout.

“good morning, anything i can help you with?” there’s no movement. and you’re tempted to kick one of the headlights out. 

“this is private property, if you have no business here, then leave.” you shout again, hand clutching your belt buckle. 

charlie’s eyes are wide and he’s drooling, ready to attack at a moment’s call. he continues to bark until you pet him, and he stills. unlike him, you continue to tap your feet until you notice a movement.

one of the side doors opens, a tall man fitted in a black suit starts to approach you. sunglasses pressed up the bridge of his nose and without a smile to match.

“hello sir, are you lost?” you ask, and he’s got something in his hand. a manila folder that he hands to you, no further words.

you look at him a little puzzled, grabbing the folder and opening to the sight of: 

STATE OF NEW MEXICO

DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE WITHOUT CHILDREN.

and right there at the bottom of the page is that signature, the same one that you were smiling at years ago when you were getting married.

sophia laforteza wants a divorce.

you continue to stare at the papers, eyes already a bit blurry, the resounding thumping of your heart hitting your ears and all you can hear is the panic that ensues in your own body. it’s getting harder to breathe calmly.

you’re feeling the pressure hit your head, until you let out a shaky breath.

then you rip it to shreds, all of it. all the mentions of a divorce, you tear it right in his face. pieces of paper flying all over the ground. either for him or for yourself: the reminder that sophia signed this doesn’t exist anymore.

he doesn’t make any movements, face as stoic as he came.

“don’t ever come by here again.” you say slowly at him. he doesn’t move or respond. 

“did you hear me? or are you deaf?”

he’s quick to draw a gun, but not as quick as you, the barrel already aimed at him, trigger cocked back. and he’s aiming you down with his handgun.

“i’ll slam this bullet right in your family jewels if you don’t leave right now.” 

you poke it at his liver, and lower it slowly at his groin. he doesn’t flinch. and now you’re staring into sunglasses that stare back into you. the sun’s shining into your eye, but you keep your hand steady. not missing the way a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

you’re both standing off from each other, and a door opens from behind him. you peek over his shoulder and wait for someone to show themself. he barely moves an inch and you’re already ready to blow him away. 

he tucks his gun away.

returning to the side of the car and lending a hand as someone gets out of the car.

your gun is still aimed at him.

and out she steps.

you swear to yourself that you must be sick, some parasite must have infected your brain functionality, infected your vision, infected the way your eyes are seeing the world. 

you blink a couple times, swear that the sun is hitting the figure and refracting the light in such a way that what you see before you cannot be true.

because in the flesh, your not-so-dead-ex-wife sophia is looking at you. 

“can you put the gun down? we need to talk.” she sighs. 

you let out an long breath, lowering the gun back into your holster.

so much for a relaxing tuesday.

--

in front of you is a woman you’re too familiar but not familiar enough with. she’s sitting in the home you two built but she doesn’t belong.

she looks even more gorgeous than you remembered. well tamed hair, heavy makeup and a bold lipstick to match. her red bottom heels sticking into the floorboards and earrings that dance in the sunlight.

she doesn’t fit here, at least not anymore. her clothes are too clean, her posture is too straight and you reckon she feels the same way.

“i’m sorry for showing up randomly, but i want a divorce.” she speaks to you gently.

and it’s like listening to a ghost. 

one that you’ve already mourned, but here she is in all her glory. bone, flesh and talking to you.

you think about how there’s an empty casket right behind the laforteza’s backyard. how you had to comfort mrs. laforteza for months, her weeping into your arms. the tears are still staining your shirt and your heart.

you remember the long nights with mr. laforteza. working with the county police and even going to the state to locate the very woman in front of you. you remembered the way his eyes went hollow after days of no updates. the way he begged you to bring his daughter back home.

you felt like you failed. you were supposed to protect her, keep her safe. you swore at their feet that the only priority in your life was her, that you married her to help her blossom. 

and then she disappeared. like an echo into the night, she disappeared into nothingness. you searched for her day and night. you practically galloped the whole city, searching high and low for her. no one else knew anything either. you talked to every town person, telling them to notify you if there was any news.

you lost sleep, weight, and hope in the process. everyday that she didn’t return, you could feel yourself getting restless. the bags under your eyes grew bigger, your shirts draped over you, you barely could stomach a meal. townspeople would give you pats on the shoulder with that look in their eyes. 

so before you is the very woman that you had long held in your heart, not one you were ready to see again, live in the flesh.

you especially remember how you laid down her favorite boots in the casket. headstone in big bold letters “SOPHIA LAFORTEZA”.

“fia, i thought you were dead.” you don’t even lift your head up as you utter the words. your finger fidgeting with others, picking at the nails. 

the slow drip of the faucet is the loudest sound in the house. you’re left speechless again. 

how is she so pretty?

why does she want a divorce?

why does she not look like fia?

where does she live now?

how is she?

“i’m sorry.” she can’t meet your eyes now, hands clasped together. 

she looks harder around the edges. 

“i wanted to tell you, but i needed to do this for myself.”

she brushes her hair back, revealing dazzling earrings that are worth more than your ranch. 

you’re just begging to reach out, to touch her. to feel her, you can’t even be sure that she exists. your hand nearly reaches out before you grab it with your other hand. you still yourself once more.

“do what?” you ask softly, you’re scared that if you even speak too loud that she’ll vanish, just like she did that night.

“i needed to leave, i needed to chase after my dreams.” she speaks just as gently as you, worried that you’ll be set off. she knows how vulnerable she left you, she might have been better off dead considering how you’re reacting. 

“i found hollywood.”

hollywood?

you remember those nights, where sophia would explain to you how she wanted to be an actress, to be under those bright lights, and shine brighter than the stars in the sky.

you recount how she’d often re-enact lines from the movies that you two watched, how she sang to the cows as she worked, and how her eyes sparkled whenever you allowed her one-woman dialogues at the dinner table.

“so what now? you’re a big star actress?” the heat’s starting to build up, the more you listen to this story, the rage is slowly building. 

“you could say that, yes i am.” she watches the way you’re rapidly tapping your foot, tucking hairs under your hat like a childish habit. 

she’s half tempted to reach out as well, to flip down the collar of your shirt.

the faucet continues to drip.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you were scared of asking this the most, to know that she might not trust you enough to tell you how she wanted to explore her dreams. 

in the dead of the night, when you had too much whiskey to remember your name, you would sit on your porch, eyes wandering the moon as you asked into the air all the questions that lived within your head. brimming over with anger or sadness. the biggest question you had was “why?”

“this ranch, the lifestyle that we grew up with, i wanted more. you were always so happy about growing this ranch, and i couldn’t take you away from this life. but i also had to chase my dreams.” she explains slowly.

and you always suspected that she was still alive. 

maybe it was a coping mechanism, but you once knew sophia laforteza inside and out. 

but it hurts. 

it hurts to hear that she considered your side and still left without another word. it hurts in a way that destroys the core of who you are as a person.

“fia, you could’ve talked to me, we’re married for God’s sake!” your eyes are darting around, and you’re out of your seat. it’s not typical of you, but you can’t make sense of anything anymore.

she stares at you with all the sadness that she’s pushed down. the idea that she left behind her spouse. who she swore to their family and under God that she would be there until her last breath. 

she can feel the tears starting to well up, it’s all too much, to return to this place that she’s unsure of. unsure where her place is anymore, and it hurts more knowing she’s the reason.

“i thought you were dead!” you seethe. your eyes are angry, eyebrows dropped low, and an accusatory finger aimed straight at her. “we all thought you were dead!”

she’s trying not to let the tears come out, her lips are trembling and so are her hands.

“i fucking mourned you. laforteza.” your tears are still flowing down your face, but you’ve hardly blinked at all. eyes like glacier: chilly and icy. 

“do you know that? do you know how hard it was holding your mom in my arms? she was begging me to bring her daughter back. do you fucking know that?”

she stands up suddenly, chair hitting the floor. 

the words continue rolling out of your mouth without missing a beat.

“i had to lower an empty casket. in your name, fia! and you come back from the dead. asking me for a damn divorce.” you stride close to her, with every punctuation of word, she steps backwards. until her back hits the kitchen counters.

“forgive me, God. but you. can. go. to. hell.” you push your finger into her chest. 

and with that you leave. quick steps bounding for the door, slamming the door wide open. 

and running towards the stable. charlie’s quick on your tail. he looks back at sophia once, then turns to chase after you. the tears are sliding off your cheeks, angry tears that stain your skin, reminding you just how much she can still affect you. 

in five breaths, you’re riding your house out the ranch, disappearing into nowhere.

--

you don’t even know how long you’ve been riding buckeye. just the feeling of hoofs clacking against the road, and charlie panting beside you. 

you remember crying into your shirt, all but a snotty mess. you’ve barely processed sophia’s death, and now she’s come back to life. treating you like you’re a pair of car keys that she left behind, not worthy enough to peer into her soul.

you remember screaming into the night, screaming how much you hated her. hated the way your heart still beat for her. as if she didn’t crush yours, as if you meant anything to her. 

you remember the way she still gently walked over that part of the floorboards, the soft spot in the corner of the floor. the way she sat in her seat, the very same one you made for her as a gift.

you’re slow to return to the ranch, buckeye’s slow clopping on the ground still present.

knowing sophia, she probably left. she knows better to try and talk to you now. even after you’ve cooled off, you’ve always taken longer to come to terms of talking through things.

so you slide off buckeye’s saddle and give him some extra carrots for the sudden ride. he’s nudging into you, as if he senses the sadness that emanates from your body.

“i’m okay buckeye, thank you for today.” you give him some more scratches and lock him in his stable. 

returning to the house with charlie at your side, he’s whining a bit as he walks against your leg. you give him some scratches too, leaning into your hand with quick tail swishes.

he’s sniffing around the house, nose leading him into the house, and he waits patiently at the door. it’s closed. you slowly turn the doorknob, hoping that sophia’s gone. 

you don’t know what you would say to her now. the last thing you need after the exhaustion is to try and bring up discussing the divorce again.

and she’s gone, almost like she never even showed up.

except she leaves a note, a short message.

i’ll be back tomorrow. please, let’s talk this out.

-love, sophia

underneath there’s a bowl of your favorite meal, saran wrapped and steam hitting the surface. the same one she would make for you. and you sink into the chair. eyes are getting blurry again as you nearly crumple the sticky note. 

so you didn’t imagine her. she was here. 

the conversation was real, and she wants a divorce.

you slowly dig into the bowl of food in front of you, and it’s like you’re twenty again. coming back from a long day of work, exhaustion set into your bones. but enough to crack a smile for sophia. as she would hand you a bowl of your favorite meal. dropping into the chair as you two recounted your day, happily scraping the bowl until mere lines of gravy were left. you remember the way her hair would be tied back, strands falling to frame her gorgeous face. kissing her in between bites when she was rambling.

do you even remember the taste of her lips?

you cry into your bowl, tears streaming into your food as you ate it, a reminder of who she once was for you. you smile as the tears fall, savoring the way it still lit up your tastebuds.

you would destroy your body for years if it meant being able to eat this dish until your last breath.

you set the bowl into the sink, letting the faucet slowly drip into the bowl. washing away the reminder of her presence. letting only the soft glow of the moonlight illuminate the kitchen, as every second goes by and more droplets fill the bowl, you let out a final breath and trudge upstairs to fall into your bed.

tomorrow you would take care of everything, but tonight you let yourself be haunted by shiny brown eyes that have kept your soul captive for as long as you lived.

--

on the other side of town, sophia’s finally calmed herself from the explosive interaction that was meeting you after years of disappearing. 

she knew what she did was wrong, but her fuel to become a star was greater. 

she remembers that night like a haunting dream. she left with kisses to your face, to remember them in her heart. the way you held onto her like she was home. 

and she swore her heart cracked a little more with every kiss, the way your face looked so calm in your sleep. she brushed your hair for hours, admiring every little feature of yours. and then she left in the middle of the night, hoping to make a name for herself, leaving behind her old life.

leaving you behind.

she also regretted how she left her parents, she knew it would break their hearts. so not only did she tear yours to shreds, now she needed to mend their hearts. 

approaching the steps to their house was just as tough as she thought, each step weighing on her feet. the porch light was on, and she could see figures within the house. she hadn’t even prepared what to say to them, her family that she left behind.

and then she knocked on the door. the seconds felt like forever, but she heard the footsteps. the way the floorboards creaked behind the door. then it opened, and she was flooded with the smell of her mom’s cooking. of soup and the smell of wood, the same warm glow from the kitchen light. and the sight of her dad behind the door.

“sophie, is that you?” 

her dad’s gotten older, more white hairs in his hair. his skin looks rougher but his voice still has that gruff low timbre. he has on his light brown cowboy hat, and then sophia’s mom steps into frame. 

“hi dad, it’s me.” and then sophia’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug, her dad hugging the air out of her. 

“sophie? jesus come here.” and her mom’s pulling her out of his embrace. hands trembling as she holds her daughter’s own face. her mom’s crying, the vision breaking her heart instantly.

she has never seen her mom cry before, not even when she had lost her own parents. her mother holds her head softly before pulling her into a hug. and her mom still smells the same, of lavender and herbs.

it’s like she’s six years old, coming back with scrapes on her knees and loud wails.

her dad encloses all of them as he hugs them as well, thankful to have his very alive daughter in his arms once more. his prayers have been heard.

“sophia, where have you been?” her dad’s voice comes out soft and confused. sophia wipes her tears away and pulls away from them. the sadness from their faces seared into her mind.

“let’s sit down, i have a lot of explaining to do.” sophia explains, and her parents share a look.

--

sophia stares at the headstone, a little worn down but the flowers are fresh. she has yet to figure out how she feels about her name being splayed across the top. 

in memory of a loving daughter, sister, and wife.

the light blows of the wind pushes hair into her face. 

she doesn’t know what’s worse: being known as dead but being alive, or being truly dead?

she could feel her heart breaking at the idea of you burying an empty casket of hers. she notices the empty headstone right next to hers. it’s a chilling reminder that you would’ve been buried next to her. until death were you meant to part. she can’t bear the idea and turns away, walking back towards her parent’s ranch. 

the conversation between her and her dad had gone sour. he grew angry with her, not understanding why she left. 

after he went quiet and left for his room, her mother stayed behind and they talked for hours. about sophia’s current life: all the red carpet events, the glamor, the paparazzi and how she felt coming back.

then she asked sophia how she felt about coming back to you.

and then sophia broke down all over again, she regretted leaving you the most. you were happy with sophia, you loved life on the ranch and you loved her. 

sophia loved you but she didn’t love life on the ranch. she enjoyed the tranquility that came with this life, enjoyed nights alone with you under the dark skies and how you were so charming. 

she kept breaking her own heart by chasing her own dreams, she could smile at all the accolades on the walls, the way people swarmed her for autographs. all the brand promotions and award shows. 

but when she went home, she felt the loneliness of living by herself, a huge mansion to herself and the recognition of the masses, but when the night gets too loud, she wishes she were in your arms. in your a-bit-too small bed and the sounds of the wind hitting the house. 

she wished for you with her. 

and she searched for you in places that were safe: her co-stars, random athletes, and singers.

all of which couldn’t make her feel the same way at night, she doesn’t want to trace their skin. she didn’t want to embed herself into their souls. she doesn’t stay for long in relationships, something miniscule always sets her off, and then she pulls away. she knows who still has her heart all these years, and she’s lost herself in a facade of quick intimacy.

she long gave up on trying to rekindle your relationship. she didn’t know where she stood anymore with you, whether you would throw her out the second she arrived. or would you welcome her with open arms. which was definitely wishful thinking on her part.

but she needs this divorce, she needs to set you free. and set her own heart free. to be free from the haunting reminder that she once had you in her arms. had you so close and tossed it for her dreams. a sacrifice that she’s still not sure if she regrets to this day. 

all she regrets is how she left.

her mom gives her a look when sophia mentioned getting a divorce from you, it’s the same look she gave sophia when she came back drunk in the dead of the night when she was a teen. the same look of worry when she disappeared for three days after a long argument with her dad.

it’s the very same look that speaks, 

i don’t agree with what you’re doing, but this is your life.

she pokes and prods into sophia’s mind, wondering why she would come back for a divorce. when she replies, sophia’s mom gives her a quiet nod, not one laced with approval but one that shows understanding, and maybe one of pity.

maybe sophia’s lost sight of her dream, and who she wants it with.

she doesn’t want to confront the ugly truth, one that would leave her vulnerable, and maybe without you in the end.

she makes her way over to your ranch with conflicting thoughts in her mind.

--

you’re busy cleaning the stables when she arrives. the first thing you notice is that she’s wearing her old clothes, the same red flannel you bought her when you were 18. your eyes see the poor patch job you did to the right sleeve.

the second thing you notice is that she’s forgone wearing her tall heels. wearing old boots, making her shorter like you remember. it pulls you back to fond memories, taking on the daily tasks and laughing at charlie trying to round up all the chickens. 

you put the brush away, and stare at her. she hasn’t said a word since she stepped in. and you’re already feeling ready to leave.

you take a couple steps out the stable, when sophia catches hold of your arm.

“please, can we talk this out?” she’s pleading with you, and you’re already ready to let your guard down, but the hurt rises in your chest.

“i don’t want a divorce, fia.” you say. 

she makes the mistake of looking at you and it’s like she’s 19 again, staring into gorgeous eyes that made her swoon. and she doesn’t know why she’s asking for a divorce anymore.

she’s always liked you with your cowboy hat on.

“i understand, but it’s either you sign this now, or we wait for the divorce to default.” she explains, and you’re already grabbing a saddle, sliding it onto buckeye. 

you turn around, facing her with anger in your eyes.

“fia, you won’t even tell me why, and you come here after years of disappearing and expect me to click my feet together and sign divorce papers. you must be out of your damn mind.” 

you’re prepping buckeye to go out for a ride, when you notice her slide a saddle onto honey. 

great, she’s not letting up.

“i’m headed to the general store.” you say reluctantly. 

and she nods.

you head out, buckeye trotting and whining as he walks out the ranch. you don’t have to look over to know sophia’s following behind you, honey happy to have her favorite rider back.

charlie’s also warmed up to sophia too, once he smelled her enough and recognized her. he walks beside honey, tail swishing lowly, watching sophia every so often. maybe you aren’t the only one that’s missed her.

it feels like everyone’s rushing to welcome her with open arms, but you’re off-kilter. 

you let out a breath when she’s picked up the pace. both of you are riding towards the town. you still needed to tend to the ranch, despite sophia’s insistence on begging for a divorce.

she lets the topic of the divorce go, as you make it into town together.

it hasn’t been like this in years. watching your back as you ride, the familiar swish of the tail from buckeye. or charlie sniffing happily along the trail. reminding herself of her discarded life.

her heart is cracking at how disjointed this all feels. stuck between a path of two lives that she’s tried so hard to separate. she’s not too sure if she wants to sacrifice you anymore.

maybe she’s selfish, maybe she wants everything and more. she wants to be greedy.

you hook your horse onto a fence, instinctively you hook sophia’s horse to the fence too.

she doesn’t point it out, but a small smile stretches her face.

and soon you’re entering the general store.

“sophia? is that you, honey?” mrs. teller races around the desk. pulling sophia into a tight hug and shaking her a bit.

you wander off the aisles of the store, knowing mrs. teller would talk sophia’s ears off. picking up some rope along the way, taking your time. you can still hear the two catching up, and in between rows you watch them. 

sophia’s smiles are still warm.  

you grab some nails and head to the counter.

“are you back, dear? for good?” in the hopeful tone that you’d expect from your grandma. sophia breaks her heart again, shaking her head no.

mrs. teller pats sophia’s hand and all she can feel is guilt. she left behind a community that watched her grow up. townsfolk that looked after her at almost every stage of her life.

she gets lost in her thoughts, until the sight of you buying rope and nails moves into her field of view. 

“mrs. teller, did you get those shipments of horse feed? i placed an order with mr. teller last week.” you’re fishing out money from your wallet when sophia steps in. placing bills in mrs. teller’s hand before you could take it back.

“yes dear, it’ll be in tomorrow!” she shuts the register. “bring charlie around the house, the grandkids love playing fetch.” mrs.teller giggles to herself watching how you two are arguing over sophia’s gesture.

“sure can, thanks again mrs. teller. have a lovely day ma’am.” you lift your head to bow at her. you’re grabbing the merchandise and heading out with sophia hot on your tail. “fia, i could pay for that myself.” 

you both don’t see it, but mrs. teller is smiling at the sight.

“i know you can pay for it, i simply wanted to.” she explains, grabbing onto honey and mounting onto the horse.

maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. maybe it’s the way you hate her paying for you, but it’s upsetting. it erupts in annoyance.

“fia, go back to hollywood, i won’t sign those divorce papers.” you say to her, and her smile from that interaction in the shop has dropped. 

you’re no fool and frankly it’s insulting for her to think a small gesture would change your mind on something as big as divorce.

“i can’t. i need that divorce.” she stares at you with desperation in her eyes, there’s something hidden, she’s not telling you everything.

“why?” you ask.

“i can’t tell you.” she offers, and it’s honest. she can’t explain the deals she’s made, how she’s under the strings of a puppeteer. 

and she wants to save you, save the last bit of happiness she can give you, setting you free from her. 

you swallow the heaviness that sets in your chest.

“you want to get rid of me that bad?” you ask. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are getting watery.

she thinks about the vows she wrote and said to you, to her parents, to everyone here. she’s betraying everyone and her own desires.

you take the silence as a sign.

“30 days. give me 30 days of your time, fia. then we’ll go our separate ways.” 

she has nothing to say to you.

wasn’t this what she wanted? 

you don’t know it but you break two hearts. 

you turn around, not wanting to look at her. you tuck your hat a little lower, just enough to shield your eyes. shielding them from welling up, you’re signing away a life that you promised under God that you would protect.

you give a tap to buckeye and you’re riding out of town. 

sophia taps honey and follows you.

the silence consumes you both on the ride back. and you’re both thankful for that.

--

in a week’s time, sophia’s back at the ranch. gone is the heavy makeup and opulence from when she first showed up. she looks younger like this, softer eyes and you’re reminded just how beautiful your wife is.

over the past week you’ve been preparing for sophia to be back. you thought about why you even offered that deal, maybe a part of you likes the pain, or is trying to prolong what’s inevitable. or maybe you’re too much of a coward to let things go.

whatever the reason may be, you had your wife back. and for the solace of a month, she was yours as well.

sophia’s out in the front, playing with charlie who hasn’t left her side since she’s arrived. the first thing you told her when she returned was how charlie kept whining and pawing at the door when sophia left.

you want to welcome her like charlie can, but touching her feels like ripping your heart further. opening the old wounds you tried so hard to mend close.

you walk towards her, basket in hand and pass it to her.

“chicken duty, let’s go.” you start walking down the path to the chicken coop and sophia’s still playing with charlie.

she watches you as she plays with charlie.

she hates that you’re so distant but so close. each time you pull away, she wishes it was just all a terrible nightmare she could wake up from. hates that she has to ask for this divorce and is devastated that you agreed.

inside her there’s a war of want and need for safety. some days she thinks about running away from all her responsibilities, and just drift into a fantasy land with you. but she knows this mess was one that she created, and you didn’t ask for this.

she watches the way you move through farmwork like you could do it blind. she’s a bit rusty and as she grabs one of the chickens, she nearly falls over when it escapes from her grasp.

“easy, laforteza.” you’re holding her steady, strong arms that keep her from falling over. 

you give her a smirk and let her go. 

“i’m fine.” she brushes herself off.

“a thanks would be nice.” you scoff and sophia’s ready to argue with you.

“thanks? you act like you saved the world.” sophia’s trying to get a rise out of you.

“saved your pretty ass from falling into chicken shit.” you reply. watching the way sophia’s face heats up.

“whatever.” sophia storms off, chasing after the chicken that’s escaped her grasp.

the smile on your face doesn’t leave your face the whole day.

not even when you’re having the worst time rounding up the cows. and charlie’s chewed up another sock of yours. you don’t even complain when sophia’s eaten the strawberries that you were saving up for dinner. 

you have half the mind to feed one to her.

--

one night curiosity bites you in the ass. you’re too curious for your own good. 

spending years asking God to bring you the answers you were longing for. you ask her about it during dinner, when you two have already grown a little more comfortable with each other.

“so, did you make it?” you ask her, chewing a piece of beef slowly. “did you make your dreams come true?”

she slows her fork, setting it down on the plate with a clank. she smiles wider, and your heart warms.

“i made it, someday i’ll fly you out to one of my premieres.” sophia starts, a sparkle in her eyes that glow brighter than the night stars. 

“i’m being called left and right for roles, and they want me to be apart of this major franchise soon.”

as she talks about the accolades, the way her eyes brighten and shine, you realize you couldn’t take this from her even if you wanted to. she shined so bright, and who were you to hold her back. 

you continue to bite into your food, letting her take over the conversation. 

it seems you no longer know sophia, you don’t know her friends, her interests, her sense of style. 

all you have are old fragments of what once was. 

“i’m glad you achieved your dreams, fia. genuinely.” it pained you, but it was true. you were genuinely happy for her.

“what about you?” she’s curious.

“what about me?” you questioned back.

“did you achieve your dreams?”

“no.” 

you shift your feet a bit, the floor boards creaking. sophia is understanding, but you’re not painting the full picture for her.

“it’s okay, you can keep trying.” she offers, there’s kindness in her voice. 

you don’t have the heart to tell her that this divorce will crush your dreams.

“thanks, fia.” you stare out, she’s chipping at the walls that you’ve concealed.

there’s something to it, the sadness that hangs in the air. how you never fully say what you want. 

it makes her skin crawl, no longer does she bear the secrets to your heart. you’ve long thrown the key away when you lowered the casket in her name. 

she doesn’t mistake how you’re unable to look at her. she wants the obsessed version of you back. how devoted and caring you once were. 

she figures she lost that privilege when she disappeared from you. she grabs both her and your plate and begins washing the dishes. you get up with a sigh. 

“need a hand with that?” you grab a dishtowel. holding a hand out as she passes cleaned utensils for you to wipe off. she feels more at home than she’s felt in months. nights of partying and meetings with co-stars and agents has left her soul feeling more than isolated.

but in this small house, with a few too many creaky floorboards, and a leaky faucet, she misses how simple this life is. 

of course her passion still lies in acting, but she’s not sure how much she wants that without you.

--

the next afternoon, the laforteza’s visit came unexpectedly. you spot mr and mrs. laforteza with wide smiles and a truck filled with gifts as they roll into the ranch. mr. laforteza gives you a hug that makes you want to cry. 

sophia’s parents know this divorce is not what you wanted.

but they also know that you would prioritize sophia’s happiness over anything. it’s why they were so accepting of you marrying their only daughter.

“mr. laforteza, it’s great to see you too.” you pull away from him, and he gives you a shoulder pat before walking towards sophia. he doesn’t have to say much to convey how he feels about you. 

both her parents seem so happy to have her daughter back. you want to feel the same, but the history between you two is entangled like vines. to unravel each branch might just tear you two apart. 

so instead, you help unload the truck filled with gifts of horse feed when sophia comes up to you.

“hey, did you know they were visiting today?” she asks, grabbing a bag of horse feed off the truck bed. you stack another bag onto the pile.

shaking your head, “no, i figured you asked them to visit.” 

she shakes her head too. “i didn’t.”

mrs. laforteza is happily walking into your house, charlie wagging his tail happily as he follows her. clearly he has a favorite human. 

you walk in after her, looking at her taking groceries out of a bag. 

there’s a silence that envelops you both. 

“you look too skinny.” mrs. laforteza says as she takes out a pot, filling it with water. “and you look sad…are you sad?” 

she has a knowing smile on her face as she watches you. you lean against the fridge, and contemplate the question. 

are you sad?

this past week with sophia has been revealing how much you missed your wife. the instinctual habits that you forgot you had are coming back to light. when you always scoop her helping of food first. how you always leave the left side of the couch for her to sit on. how you always tuck your boots next to hers. it’s a familiarity that you want to relish in. but in less than a month’s time she’ll never be yours again.

so maybe you are sad, maybe you’re devastated that you’ve betrayed your wants in favor of giving sophia what she wants. maybe you’re losing yourself by giving it all to sophia.

“i’m not sure what i am anymore.” you reply. 

she can feel how lost you are. from having sophia come back after years of mourning her disappearance. she feels for you. as if you were her own. and her daughter wants a divorce. she still doesn’t understand why and it’s the elephant in the room.

“honey, you don’t want this divorce. what made you agree?” she turns off the faucet. you reach over to place the pot onto the stove. 

she smiles at the gesture.

“i don’t want sophia to feel trapped with me, and it’s clear she left without telling me for a reason.” you explain even though it’s cracking your heart. her mom gives you a light pat on the cheek and shakes her head.

“that girl has never stopped from loving you. i know her. this is killing her as much as it’s killing you.” 

you want to believe that, truly you do. but you have a heart to protect too. are you going to be a fool and let it be torn all apart again? 

“then why is she doing this?” you’re tired of hearing how sophia still wants you from other people. it hurts more.

“i don’t know why either, dear.” she speaks gently to you.

you stare out the kitchen window, watching sophia’s dad talk to sophia. you can’t hear what he’s saying to her, but she’s listening intently, and at one point she turns to look at you. 

feeling caught, you avert your gaze. 

but she watches you, eyes trying to commit you to memory.

it’s later at dinner, when you and the laforteza’s are eating together. laughter loudly echoing around the house that you forget that you’re about to be divorced. 

you bathe in the happiness that emanates throughout the night. mr. laforteza retelling stories of how he courted mrs. laforteza. with eyerolls from his wife and sophia hanging on his every word. 

charlie’s seated right by sophia, curled into himself as his tail wags slowly. 

this is what you envisioned your home to be. to be warm and filled with life, and eventually down the line you wanted kids. wanted to create your own family with sophia. to have her parents come down to babysit the grandkids and play with them. 

for charlie to have another person to play catch with.

you don’t even notice the tear that rolls down your face. it stains your jeans as it free falls. you continue to laugh along with a funny joke that mrs. laforteza has said. 

sophia’s eyes notice it immediately, reaching out to cup your face.

the laforteza’s share a look with each other.

“are you okay?” sophia’s using her sleeve to wipe it off.

“oh, yeah, yeah i’m good.” you snap out of your daze, feeling the way sophia’s eyes are filled with worry. the way she lightly dabs at your cheeks. and it feels too much like home. 

“well, we ought to get out of your hair, it’s getting late.” mr. laforteza stands up, brushing off his pants and sliding on his cowboy hat. ms. laforteza stands up as well, a warm smile adorning her face as she follows him out. 

you and sophia stand up, wishing them on their safe travels. you watch them as they go out the ranch, until you can’t see their tail lights anymore. maybe in a distant world, you get to have everything. the big family dinners filled with laughter and excited screams from kids. but reality is always more grim than fantasy.

you let out a sigh and turn around, sophia is silently waiting for you.

“come on, let’s go to bed.” she says, hand open for you to take. 

your finger twitches. you nearly step forward.

“i was going to take the couch.” you say a bit too quietly. this whole time that sophia’s been here, you’ve been sleeping on the couch, offering the bed to her. she doesn’t tell you how it breaks her heart that you don’t follow her every night.

“let’s go to bed.” 

she shakes her hand a bit. in turn, you scratch your neck a bit, and take a step towards her. hand slipping right into hers like a glove.

she smiles at it. lifting your intertwined hands as she places a gentle kiss on your hand.

you don’t know it, but when you’re long asleep. the sensation of sophia tracing every ridge and dip of your face, your nose bridge, your cheekbones, your jaw. she’s found an angel on earth and you’re laying next to her. she slides closer to you, giving you gentle kisses on your face.

she wants to cry all over again, how cruel it is to leave you again. she closes her eyes once she feels that she’s left parts of her soul on you, covering your skin with her love.

it’s unspoken but you don’t take the couch ever again.

--

the next week you’re arriving at the rodeo in one of your cleaner shirts, a darker cowboy hat that you saved for special occasions. sophia’s by your side. 

you initially were planning on going by yourself, but when sophia heard you mention it in passing, she invited herself.

so she’s wearing her best denim jacket with her hair styled up in a ponytail. makeup enhancing her gorgeous eyes and glossy lips to pair. she caught you staring at her getting ready, held under her trance. maybe she wanted to give you a show, maybe she took extra long getting ready, knowing your attention was stuck on her.

you enter the large barn, seeing crowds of people surrounding the fenced in rodeo. there’s an experienced rider on top of a wild bull. shouts and whistles being thrown around, and the sounds of bells clinking all around. this was going to be a good night, you could feel it in your bones.

you begin walking towards the fences, when sophia pulls you back.

“can you get us some drinks?” she asks sweetly, using that smile that makes you weak in the knees.

“of course, fia, two beers?” she gives you a nod and you’re bound for the bar. it’s filled with older cowboys and cowgirls. one of them tips their hat to you, in which you do the same. he helps signal over a bartender for you. 

you’re walking back to sophia with two drinks in hand, excited to watch some real bull riding and wanting to enjoy a night with sophia. when you notice the crowd surrounding her. there’s cameras in her face, and people shoving papers into her hand. 

you push past some people, trying your best to reach your wife, when you hear the shouts from the crowd.

“sophia! i love you!” a man shouts. 

“you’re sophia laforteza!” a woman shouts. 

“can i get your autograph? please, it’s for my daughter!” another woman shouts at your wife.

you finally push through the bodies and find your wife looking cornered, the encroaching crowd pushing her into the fence. within a couple steps you wrap your arm around her. pulling her out of the crowd.

“please, give her some space!” you shout at everyone. a couple of the cowboys recognizing you and pushing the crowd away. giving you a tip of their hats when the majority of the crowd disperses. 

you’re thankful for the help, but you hadn’t anticipated sophia to be recognized here.

“i got your beer.” you slide the cold bottle into her hand and she nods. she’s tapping her feet rhythmically. grabbing a hold of your arm and sliding her arm through. 

“thanks, for back there.” she says, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

your face heating up at the affection. 

“you’re welcome, fia.” you say. “does that happen often?” 

you signal your hand. gesturing at the commotion that was. the only celebrity that you’ve come close to is the town mayor and his family, but even then it’s mostly to badger him for public works. 

you’ve never seen a real-life swarm of people asking for autographs.

“hm? oh, all the time. i mean i can’t even walk down the street without bodyguards sometimes.” sophia’s speaks about it casually. to be known and approached by the masses for the recognition of your talent. you don’t know if you could stomach that life. 

“do you miss it?” you ask into the air, but there’s more to it. you want to know if she misses her life in hollywood, the one she chose over you. 

she shakes the beer bottle a bit. you don’t even realize you are holding your breath. waiting for the second shoe to drop. 

“i miss the human interactions, when people would tell me how inspired they are by my acting. how it made them want to go into acting themselves. i don’t miss having camera flashes in my face when i’m trying to go buy groceries or enjoy a lunch outdoors.” she speaks

you listen earnestly. her life feels so foreign to the one you both grew up in.  

“sometimes, when life gets too much out there, i rub this necklace and wish i was still back at the ranch. i wish i could have both.” she shows off the necklace that you’ve seen her wear for years, a family heirloom that you’ve never seen her take off.

and with the sound of a bell there’s a new bull rider entering the arena. 

loud hollers around the barn echoing as the rider hangs onto the bull firmly. the bull is running around with kicks and swishes of the head to knock him off. but he’s holding firm.

sophia pulls you closer to the other side of the fence. getting a better vantage point of the scene. she makes some comments about how the rider’s pretty good. letting his body move enough to bend to the bull’s movement, but doesn’t let himself tip too far.

maybe you’re fishing for compliments, or maybe you want her attention on you. either way you spout it before you can stop yourself.

“i can do better than that.” you scoff, taking a swig of beer. she raises an eyebrow, taking a sip as well. she hasn’t seen you ride a bull in years, but she remembers how good you once were.

“you still got it, cowgirl?” sophia tempts you. 

“damn right, i still got it.” you say, drinking the rest of your beer and walking over to sign yourself up for the competition. sophia watches you. noticing you take a piece of gum out and chewing it. 

the same ritual you always had whenever you rode. she stares at your hair under the hat. your eyes surveying the bull that’s trying to buck another rider off. she stares at how you look so damn good under the light.

and then you’re up, loading into the bay with the bull standing by. a couple of people are prepping the bull, sliding on the rope tightly. and you hop onto the bull. gloved hand gripping onto the rope wrapping around the bull. you adjust your hat a bit, and look out for sophia.

she spots you from across the fence, holding herself on one of the bars. waving to you, and you tip your hat to her. signaling this ride is for her. 

“you know the rules, cowgirl, stay on for at least 8 seconds,” one of the guys fixing the rope asks you. “you got it?” 

you give him a nod and tap the gate. nodding forward and lifting up, the gates open automatically. your bull immediately sending you forward, he bucks and twists his hind legs. trying his best to shake you off. he’s got you spinning like a spin top, using the momentum to throw you off. 

you grit yourself. you keep your bottom half of your bottom as close to the bull as possibly. your leg slapping against the side of the bull. the bulls spinning around trying to get you dizzy. you nearly fall off at one point, gripping onto the rope with all your might.

and then you hear the roars, eight seconds are up, and you feel the bull trying to kick you off, his horns getting a bit too close to your head, so you roll off the bull, just narrowly missing it. you roll onto the ground, the dirt covering you entirely.

as you run away from the bull. screams of the crowd cheer you on. 

you run right up to sophia, sliding your hat right onto her head, hugging her over the fence. and everyone’s cheering your name. loud chants echoing the arena. more than just qualifying, you’ve put on a performance. everyone is cheering for you but you have your eyes set on sophia. 

maybe it’s the beers, maybe it’s the feelings that are swarming in her chest, but she grabs you. 

then she’s kissing you and everyone roars. 

whistles and hollering in the air as sophia continues kissing you.

the screams drone out and you kiss her back. and for the first time you’ve seen her eyes shine so bright for you.

“you saw me out there, fia?” you shout at her, the loud chants droning out your voice. 

“of course i did, you did amazing baby.” she smiles and pulls you into another kiss. and you leap over the fence.

pulling sophia into a hug. still breathing hard from the run. she leans close to you, tucking your hat tighter on her head.

“how do you feel, cowgirl?” sophia asks you. you both walking towards the bar again, needing a refill. 

“indescribable.” you say, kissing her temple. 

and you reach the bar. several cowboys already offering to buy you drinks. you try waving them off, but then the bartender slides over the drinks to you.

“on the house, courtesy of your bull riding return!” he shouts. “and for sophia’s big return too!” 

the cowboys cheered for you too, and you gave them a clink of beer. sophia grabbing a beer and cheering to some of the guys too. the bar continues to be lively into the night, some retired bull riders telling you about their heydays. sophia was welcomed back happily by a couple of cowboys. 

your hand doesn’t leave sophia’s the whole night. a gentle rubbing across your knuckles even when she’s talking to someone else. you don’t want the night to end, and neither does she.

--

you and sophia ride back home, she’s still wearing your hat and holding onto you as buckeye continues clopping on the road. 

“and then charlie nearly bites him in the ass!” you shout, the laugh nearly making you double over as you recount the event. sophia’s listening intently, giving you nods of her attention, with her head pressed into your back. relishing in the feeling of your body’s movement. 

“we’re home.” you say gently. dismounting buckeye and pulling him into the stable. she watches you, and she has been the whole night, sometimes you caught her too. 

“you okay?” you say, letting go of the rope, staring up at her. she looks at you for a moment, memorizing how you look in the moonlight, gorgeous and warm.

“great. help me off?” she says. and you grab onto her, pulling her off the horse and setting her down. 

she slides her hand into yours again, and you feel your skin heating up again at the feeling. 

she pulls you towards the house, urging you into a run and opening the door eagerly. you’re confused but you don’t question it when she’s sliding off her boots and running up the stairs. you follow quickly after her, opening the door and seeing her in the corner.

she’s fallen into your bed, beckoning you forward, and you obey. reaching close to her when she places the cowboy hat back onto your head. tilting it low enough to her liking. her hands reach for your shirt, sliding up and down the front. it stills at the top button.

“can i?” she asks. and you nod.

she’s unbuttoning your shirt quickly. and she lets her eyes drift up, catching you staring at her with the same want.

she loves how you look on top of her, hat still covering your head, the hottest goddamn cowgirl she’s ever seen.

“hat stays on.” sophia says firmly, removing your shirt. your eyebrow perks up at the admission.

“you have a thing for my hat?”

“i have a thing for you wearing that hat.” she rushes to take off her own shirt, revealing all too gorgeous skin. you reach out, feeling the heat from her skin against yours.

“noted.” you smirk at the way she’s embarrassed. 

you slide her shirt off her back, bunching it up and throwing it across the room. you slowly move up the bed, enclosing the space that feels oh so far. she’s moving up too, liking this view of you looking to claim.

“is this new?” you spot a tattoo under her breast, a small butterfly. the wings spread on her ribs. tracing it with your thumb, maybe you need to be re-acquainted with her.

“yeah, like it?” she says, liking the sensation of you tracing over the tattoo. you nod, a bit too entranced by the linework. 

and then she grabs your hand, lifting it up gently. you snap your eyes onto hers. she smiles as she moves it upwards. dropping it right on top of her bra. and she stares at you, begging you to make a move. 

she pulls you down for a kiss, you want to pull away, but she keeps you close. hand wrapped around your neck, she pulls you close enough to get her mouth next to your ear.

“you still remember how to fuck me?” sophia challenges you, lightly tugging at your lobe. “or do i need to teach you again?”

she pulls away. 

she’s smirking at you, wanting you to snap.

“i still know how to fuck the senses out of you, fia.” you confidently claim, and you’re back. the same confident girl that makes her head spin.

“prove it.” she whispers. 

you grab her face, kissing her with the hunger that’s been building up this whole time. you still wanted her as much as you used to. distance and time hasn’t changed how much you yearned to make her yours. 

she’s pushing up into you, wanting you just as much, having a little taste wouldn’t satiate this desire. so you grab onto her torso, pulling her up. enough to unhook her bra and slide it off. another discarded piece of clothing landing across the room.

“God, you are perfect.” you say, dipping down to kiss her jaw. moving your hands again, pushing lightly into her hip. you continue to kiss down her sternum, reaching a hand to rub against her boob. lightly grabbing and pulling it towards you. 

she gasps.

“you’re so sensitive, fia.” you joke. continuing your journey south. gliding your hands to unhook her pants, sliding them off her legs. 

and it’s like christmas came early. 

“can’t help it.” she whines a bit. anticipating your touch. “it’s you.”

you stutter a bit. the emotions in her voice are overwhelming. maybe she wanted you in the same way.

so you go silent, wanting to express how much you yearned for her. wanting to re-learn everything that makes her tick.

you slide your hands under the waistband. her panties still sticking a bit as you took them off.

she smells divine, a mixture of sweat and desire. and you’re ready for worship.

you roll into her with your pants, hips tilting upwards. letting your hardness rub against her, and she drops her mouth. pretty sounds falling from her lips. 

she reaches down, grabbing a hold of you. feeling around and reaching for the belt. pulling at the buckle until it pops. 

she pushes you back, frustrated she can’t get closer to you. and you land back, propping your arms just enough to let her reach for you. 

she climbs on top, pulling her hair all to one side. pulling your belt off the loops. you watch her throw it off the bed, and she’s grabbing onto your pants. unbuttoning them in urgency.

“desperate?” you gaze into her.

she gives you a look that says a thousand words. the darkness in her gaze, and the kind of sterness that makes you excited.

then your pants are unbuckled. you let out a breath, relaxing as the pressure from the pants has been lifted. you’re standing at full attention, begging to be touched.

begging to be touched by her. 

she puts her hands inside, not bothering to slide your pants completely off.

you let your head fall, she gets closer.

“i missed this…missed you.” she tugs a bit, and you twitch. 

you nod, pulling her in for a kiss. “i missed you too fia.”

you close your hand into a fist, gripping onto her hair and letting open mouth kisses fill the air. she looks so beautiful like this, putty in your hands and plump lips that make you nearly cave in.

you reach down, a single finger that draws a line. finishing right where she wants you. you give her a tap, and she lets out a hiss. 

she wants to swat your hand away, instead she gives you a look.

“stop playing.” she scolds.

“yes, ma’am.” you chuckle a bit, liking the demanding side of her. she continues to lightly play with you over your boxer briefs.

letting her nails slide up and push into your briefs. you can feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, the way she starts tugging again, rubbing the tip and spreading out your juices.

“you’re leaking baby.” she says, continuing to pump you, hands gripping enough to give you that head-spinning pleasure. 

you reach down again, looking for her wetness, smiling to yourself at the feeling.

“same to you, baby.” you smirk. letting your fingers gather that wetness and spread it up. 

playing with her clit until it’s begging. 

you hear the hard pants and watch how she goes rigid, unable to look you in the eye. eyes closed shut with a hand on your forearm. 

she looks so gorgeous, and you want more. want to mess her up so she’ll never want to leave.

you pull her hand out your briefs and she almost looks hurt. wanting to reach out again, and you stop her. you simply shake your head, kissing her enough to distract her. pushing her back, pleasing her is your only motive right now.

“baby, let me make you feel good.” she blushes at the words. she remembers how good you were with your mouth.

sometimes she’d touch herself at night just remembering the touch of you.

“please, hurry.” and you do, setting her head on a pillow. dropping yourself onto the floor.

kissing her and parting her legs. sliding your hands over her thighs. you get close enough, but not enough to touch her. and when she doesn’t expect it, you kiss her clit. 

she moans at the contact, and then you latch onto it. softly sucking it, just the way she likes. when her legs twist and turn, hands reaching to grab the sheets.

you got her right where you want her. gorgeous and laid out.

you slide a hand up, running your palms through her torso, far enough to grab onto a nipple, and flick it. she grips onto your arm. the slight pain making you grin. 

it’s cute how worked up she gets with you.

every little touch like a flame that dances upon her skin.

you continue to suck around her bud. giving it a slow lick and she’s gripping your arm more. you lick it with fervor, liking the way she’s begging for you, name rolling off her tongue that strokes your ego. 

you stand at full attention, light twitches at her beautiful moans. you get lost in your own world, licking slowly and with a flat tongue. enjoying how her legs shake when you suck.

her body is hot to the touch,  a slight sheen of sweat coating her body. casted with moonlight making her skin glow. she’s gorgeous and the only one you want in your bed.

“baby, please, i need you inside.” she begs. trying to pull you up, so you let her. let her drag your body closer, until you’re touching her with your clothed cock.

you slide your pants down, pulling them off and flinging them away, the restrictive material off your body. 

and sophia watches you, likes the sight of you bare. body toned with years of farmwork and bull riding building you up. 

you slide up to her, using the wetness that’s been leaking from her cunt and coating it all over your cock. enough to get you inside. she’s more desperate than you, reaching for you, and pulling it towards her. 

“come on baby, it’s all yours.” you say to her. letting her dictate when she wanted you. and then she pushes you inside, instantly her head drops back onto the bed. the feeling of you inside again after so long has her starting to tear up.

“you okay baby?” you ask, a little startled from the tears. 

you stop to wipe them off, ready to pull out at a second’s notice.

“so good, please move.” she begs of you, and you’re more than willing to comply. pushing in slowly and watching her face contorted in pleasure. 

pretty pink lips that are begging to be kissed, so you dip down and kiss her. soft kisses that have her gripping onto your hair, pulling the hat off your head and tossing it aside.

you slowly tilt your hips to sink into her. the vibrations from her throat buzzing against your mouth. moans that are begging to be heard echoing inside. she grips harder into your hair, loving the way you stretch her.

“please move baby, i need more of you.” she detaches from your mouth, waiting for you to rock into her. and you do, in that slow pace that lets you feel every ridge of her insides. warm enveloping heat that’s making your heart hammer.

your pretty wife below you, such a vulnerable and intimate sight. you kiss her nipples, lightly massaging one with your hand and playing with the bud. 

she puts a hand on your stomach, feeling your tensed abs against her nails. you continue to push in and out of her. moans in time with your movements. you want her to always feel this good, to want you forever.

you lick her nipples, then blow on them, cold air hitting her and she hisses. 

“you are so gorgeous baby.” you dip down to whisper to her, and she feels herself getting wetter. the movement of you inside her has her mewling. her nails lightly scratching your abs, you continue to roll into her.

using your hips to angle upwards, pressing your tip in that soft spot. tingling immediately hitting her body from all over.

“found it.” you smirk at her. and with what strength she has she rolls her eyes. wanting to tell you off, but you hit that spot again, and she’s back to being a mess.

“fuck…” she moans out.

“yes baby, feeling good?” you smirk. she nods with whines coming out, unable to answer you. you continue tapping it, enjoying the way she seems in heaven.

you grip harder into her hips and move to tilt your hips back down, long strokes that knocks at her womb.

you want to fuck her so she forgets everything but you. want her to remember only you, it's selfish and possessive. but you need her to want to be yours.

“kiss me please.” she begs and you dive down, kissing her intensely. still giving her long strokes that have her fingers shaking.

“you’re doing so good for me, fia.” you speak in between kisses.

“my gorgeous girl.” you speak to her soul. begging her to hear your calls. 

“your gorgeous girl.” she says, tears springing into her eyes again, overwhelmed by the claim. “yours. yours. yours.”

you fuck into her, hips gradually snapping. hitting against her insides and she reaches out, hands open for you to intertwine. you take it and give her hand a kiss.

she cries at the sight, all the feelings spiraling out of her.

she lets you continue to fuck her, intensity sharpening as you keep pulling in and out. her nails dig into your hands, she looks like a mess, the most gorgeous mess. 

you want to keep her here forever. she knows it. knows how you’re concentrating so hard on pleasing her. she wants to as well, wants to make a mess of you.

 and then she pushes you.

“baby, want to ride you.” she whimpers out, and you nod. slowly sliding out of her, ending with a light gasp from her.

“come ride your cowgirl then.” you settle yourself on the bed, laying down and watching her shake as she tries getting up, legs a little wobbly.

“don't. say. anything.” 

your mouth is already half open, ready to make a joke. 

but she shuts you up. instead you watch her gorgeous body climb on top of you. hands that cross around your neck.

“you look so pretty, fia.” you say, placing a kiss on her arms. rubbing them up and down as she gets situated.

“not as much as you.” she says through heavy breaths, trying to kiss you on shaky knees. 

you use your legs to keep her in place, meeting her halfway. kissing her fervently and passionately. 

she has you hooked, cock begging for attention. 

then she slides onto you. sinking enough to let your cock rest inside her. and it feels like heaven, how you missed this.

“fuck, fia, you feel so good.” you moan out, head dropping onto the pillow.

“you feel even better.” she smiles at you. sinking down until you’re fully sheathed. she keeps her hands on your abs. settling for a rocking motion as she moves herself on top of you.

“mm, i could ride you for days.” she whispers.

“you’d ride me until i’m dry.” you scoff. hissing when she drags her nails down your body. 

“you can’t go dry.” she scolds you.

she wants to milk you for all your worth and more.

“this is mine.” she clenches, enough pressure to make your cock jump. 

“yeah?” you let out playfully, “did you decide that?”

“of course i did. this is mine.” she clenches again and you twitch. and she gives you no time to recover. 

going right back to riding you. pulling herself up just enough to rock back down. you relish in the sight, the moonlight shining in and illuminating her body. you watch her in a haze, the pleasure spreading inside of you, but the sight of her is more than everything. 

you are still so in love with her.

she continues to ride you, hand on your thigh as she leans back. rolling herself on top of you. 

you feel like you could cum any second now. and you grip onto her thighs, to which she grabs a hold of you. 

staring at you with desire and pleasure in her eyes.

she closes her eyes, letting the feeling of riding you consume her. she can feel the familiar feeling at the pit of her stomach.

“fuck, i’m going to cum.” she keeps repeating it to herself in the moment.

you grab a hold of her. rushing to push her back. wanting to fuck into her until she cums. in a second her back hits the bed again, and she looks at you a little dazed.

“need to fuck you.” you say just loud enough for her to hear. and push into her. going for a more relentless speed.

she keeps moaning in your ear, chanting your name lowly. it drives her crazy to have you so close.

“i’m cumming baby, inside or out?” you pant in her ear. 

all you want is to cum inside, begging to pour yourself into her.

“please, inside. only inside please.” she begs for you. hooking her legs around you, holding you close. “want your kids, please.” 

there’s tears in the corners of her eyes and she’s raking her nail down your back.

“yeah?” you whisper to her, feeling your stomach coiling into itself. “you’d be the best mom.”

the rush nearly hitting you when she clenches. 

“fuck!” she cries desperately, pulling you into a kiss that expresses her deepest desires. 

she wants this, wants to be the mother of your kids. the idea of anyone else as a replacement sends her in a tailspin.

all she wants is you. 

wants to keep a part of you with her forever.

she needs you. and she needs you to want her. wants you to fill her up. she’s gasping and holding your head. staring into you, in each part that she’s loved and admired.

“baby, fill me up.” she whines, continuing to clench every so often. you gasp each time, open mouthed and head falling back.

“fuck, i’ll fill you up baby, be patient.” you hiss when she pushes back, using her hips to meet you halfway.

she feels the way you twitch inside of her, the signifier that you’re close.

you reach your climax, the white hot sensation hitting you in the body, letting out ropes of cum inside of her. grunting and moaning as you keep pushing into her, wanting to be as close as possible.

she can feel her walls getting painted with you, and it triggers her own climax. 

the intimacy, the desire, the urgency makes her continue to sob as she cums.

you continue to slowly pump in her, the orgasm coming to a slow descent. trying your best not to collapse on top of her with your arms shaking. you try to push yourself up, just to get yourself in a better position so as to not crush her.

when she suddenly pulls you down, chest to chest and you can hear her sobs.

“no! stay inside.” she cries out. and maybe time has changed you but you don’t remember ever hearing her so desperate. 

“fia? what’s wrong?” you’re concerned.

“no, just want you. stay inside please?” you stare at her, the desperation in her voice is echoing in your heart. 

so you stay, gently wiping tears off her cheeks and comforting her as she cries. giving her kisses on her shoulder and lips. 

you continue to shower her in gentle affection. letting her enjoy the feeling of you and trying your best not to move around. she feels herself relax eventually, enough to make her sleepy.

she closes her eyes, trying to drift asleep. before she does though, she whispers to you.

“stay?”

“of course, fia.”

–

the morning has dawned and you let yourself sleep in. with sophia next to you and the memories of last night, you feel on top of the world. 

it feels like the old you is back. there’s still the ever-looming divorce over your head but maybe last night changed things.

maybe you can allow yourself to believe she wants to stay. maybe she doesn’t want this divorce.

maybe you can allow yourself happiness again.

it’s a slow morning. you’re trying your best to clean up last night’s mess. dirty clothes tossed into a hamper, trying your best not to wake sophia up as you clean her.

giving her kisses that nearly wake her up. hand reaching out to find you. 

it’s domestic, and an old familiarity you missed.

you give her another kiss just before you leave.

it’s a good morning to enjoy yourself on the porch. rubbing behind charlie’s ears and sitting in your rocking chair.

letting the thoughts of sophia consume you as always. maybe you’ll buy her flowers today, wrap it in a bouquet for her. or cook her breakfast so she can have it in bed. the thought keeps you happy.

then charlie barks, standing at attention. that’s when you spot someone in the distance. 

“can i help you, sir?” you continue to chew on your stick, lightly rocking back and forth. 

he’s too well dressed, a three piece grey suit that’s already gathering dirt and dust under his feet. 

he’s fidget-y, device in hand as he frantically searches for a signal.

“i’m looking for sophia. sophia laforteza?” he’s continuing to twirl in circles, hands up in the air as he walks in different directions, trying to look for a signal.

he looks like a damn fool.

“sir, i don’t know of a sophia.” you continue to chew at your stick. hand firmly held on your buckle. 

“well either you’re lying or this gps is.” he says, continuing to fiddle with his device and he starts walking towards the house. “and i spent a couple thousand on it.”

“i don’t know a sophia. you must have the wrong place.” you shout back. 

charlie’s tail stills when he doesn’t move. instead he approaches you. a charming smile on his face.

he gets close enough for you to escalate. 

you lift your gun out, pointing it at his forehead.

“i don’t take too kindly to strangers trespassing.” you let out. “please leave.”

“sophia! i know you’re in there.” the stranger shouts.

“you have some goddamn nerve.” you shout, stepping up face to face. 

charlie rushes forward, loud barking shaking him up. you keep him still, not letting him lunge forward to bite.

he smirks seeing the door open and sophia running down the steps.

she’s by your side in an instant. and then she sees him, and her blood runs cold.

he wasn’t supposed to find her, or you. 

he wasn’t supposed to have leverage.

“sophia! where the hell have you been? i’ve been calling your cell, your manager, lara, everyone!” 

his voice cracks at the end and he looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. his forehead vein sticking out and blood rushing to his cheeks.

“i couldn’t contact anyone! but i had this tracker and it led me here. in new mexico.”

he explains rapidly and at this point you’ve pushed sophia behind you. putting some distance between this strange man and your wife.

“what are you doing here in new mexico?” he finally stops.

“i-...go home thomas. we’ll talk later.” sophia says.

“no, i’m not leaving without you, laforteza.” he says with an awful smirk. one that starts making you nervous.

you didn’t know anything about thomas.

“who are you?” you ask, and sophia wishes she could rewind time. rewind to a time where she never left, kept you close and didn’t break your heart, because she feels like she’ll break it all over again.

“i’m thomas moore, nice to meet you.” he offers his hand, you don’t shake it. “i take it, sophia hasn’t introduced me?” he says, taking his hand back. 

“i’m sophia’s fiancé.” 

he says with a smile that’s slow, ending a grin that makes you want to rip it off of him.

fiancé? 

it hits you in your chest, the shock making your ears ring. ringing and all you can see is sophia arguing with him. shouts like a silent film in your head. you’ve been duped again. 

you let your heart get trampled over again. ruined by this woman. she’s crying and trying to shake you out of your haze. you don’t see the tears that trickle out your eyes. hand open faced and gun to the ground. 

she tries shaking you again. and you take a step back. a tense step, muscle at full flex. you need to get out, you need to get away. 

she’s done it again, she’s let you believe in her love. after everything you tried spelling out to her last night, you want to forget her. you want to forget how you gave the deepest part of you to her.

you leave, feet turning into the house. quick steps turning into a mad dash. you’re opening kitchen drawers, running through the house, trying to look for a pen. anything that can write. you don’t even know if anything else is real.

pen. pen. pen.

and then you find one, it’s an old pen. ink nearly dried up, and you’re scribbling on scrap paper. heart thumping loudly, with adrenaline coursing through you. 

sophia runs after you, trying to get you to stop. she watches you try to write with a pen. her mind going haywire. she has no idea what you’re trying to do. she’s trying to anticipate it and then it hits her. 

her heart drops.

“no! baby please, look at me.” she begs you, grabbing a hold of your face. trying to break you from your dazed self. angry tears staining the paper. 

you grab the papers from the cabinet. an extra copy of the divorce papers that sophia handed you. the lines are tagged with blue tabs. every line you need to sign is there.

and you see the ink flowing again. 

sophia’s crying, trying to get you to stop. 

you lift your pen in the air, placing it onto the divorce forms. signing the line. flipping through the pages with anger, signing the other lines. 

“please, let me explain.” she’s sobbing and begging you to look at her. it’s no use, you should’ve never trusted her again. of course she would leave again.

what were you expecting?

you finally sign it all and sophia’s sunken to the floor, tears wracking her body and she stares at the floor. 

“this is what you wanted, right?” you bite out.

she looks up at you, shaking her head vehemently. 

“no, no, i don’t want this. no!” she nearly screams. she gets up, trying to hug you.

“get off of me, sophia.” you cry out. arms at your side as she keeps her arms around you. it’s suffocating, you never thought you’d say it, but her touch is suffocating. 

“my name is fia! it’s fia! you don’t call me sophia!” she cries out, her heart is breaking. 

everything is in ruin again. you’re in ruin too. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

you wanted to ask her to reconsider, thought of getting her flowers and dressing up all nice to ask her on a date.

this solidified everything you thought was wrong.

“you have a fiancé?” you ask, with betrayal laced in your tone, backing up from her. it hurts to look at her. 

she doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. bloodshot eyes that are begging for you to hear her out.

“and you didn’t tell me?” you continue to be impressed, at how little you know sophia.

she shakes her head, trying so hard not to have heave. 

“please, let me explain.” she begs and you shake your head. it hurts so bad, it’s sucking your energy to be in this room with her. 

“and last night…did you even mean it?” you ask, hand over your heart as you feel the anger boiling. you gave her everything, your heart and soul, and she has a fiancé. one that she conveniently forgot to tell you about.

“of course i meant it! i always mean it.” she shouts back, disgusted by the accusation. 

you stare at her, begging for the truth, for this all to be one sick play, where all the curtains rise and a camera crew filming the whole thing. a punk’d kind of sick trick.

“you must be one hell of an actress out there, laforteza.” you say out of spite. “you had me fooled with your act.”

“don’t you dare. i never, i never—it was never an act with you.” she nearly screams. 

but the curtains don’t rise, and reality sticks.

“get out sophia. i don’t want to see you ever again.” you say. you stare at the divorce papers that you haphazardly signed.

signatures flying across the page, and tears wrinkling it. it’s a poor sight, and one that you want out of your home. 

“get the fuck out.”

she feels her heart crack, truly crack. there’s so much hatred in your voice. pain ladened anger that screams for retreat. 

she cries out, hands reaching out for you. you turn away from her. tears streaming down your face.

“if you won’t leave, i will.” you bite out. moving past her, and out the house. and once again you’re running off on buckeye. 

charlie following you closely. whimpers coming from him when he doesn’t see sophia follow. he gives one final look before running to catch up to you.

sophia’s sobbing into herself, curled herself into a ball. staring at the home you both once built. maybe this was how it was always supposed to be. maybe she should’ve just stayed away the first time.

maybe she doesn’t deserve this happy ending either.

thomas steps into the house, the cunning smile rubbed off his face, a colder exterior forming.

“sophia, let’s go.” he says, offering his hand. “enough playing house, you have responsibilities.”

sophia looks at him through her tears, anger directed towards him. steel eyes forged with anger and resentment.

“thomas. fuck. off.” sophia stands up, grabbing the papers off the desk. leaving the house with him behind her.

she gives one more look at the house. trying to commit it to memory, trying to commit you to memory. hand on the door handle, opening the car door and stepping inside. 

maybe she needs to put this all behind.

she cries to herself as the car pulls out the ranch, hand crumpling the paper in her hand.

just like a phantom, she disappears again. 

this time you want her to stay away.

--

a/n: how did we like the ending!!! :) i apologize if this isn't true to the american cowgirl/ranch owner/bull rider experience, i tried my best! and honestly this was a whole beast to write so i hope you enjoyed it! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

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　 এু . ❀ bloodstained bloom 血 ✿

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250602 NCTsmtown Twitter Update

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sticker tagging tagging tagging tagging 💚

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reading fanfiction while listening to music will forever be my favorite late night activity

song rec - back to friends (sombr)

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this is phenomenal... and as a twilight super fan I was geeked the whole time

i can feel death, see its beady eyes | sophia laforteza

⁍ song: street spirit (fade out) - radiohead ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon. i had 'vamphia' requested a few times. ⁍ genre: twilight au. slowburn! fluff, angst. vampire!sophia, telepath!sophia, good old 'i can read everyone but you'. ⁍ a/n: this is part one. this fic is set in 2004 around the time of the first movie. ⁍ w.c: 26k ⁍ warnings: suggestions of abuse, mentions of blood, death, illness. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n swore that forks froze over the day she left. when she returned six years later after a death in the family, she realized that nothing had changed. same old fog, same faces, same silence tucked between the trees. at least, that was until she met sophia laforteza. beautiful, aloof, and strangely out of place in the cold little town. when sophia offered to help fix up her brothers car, she soon realized she was in for more than she bargained for.

part one

the first thing you noticed when you crossed into forks was how nothing had changed. not the color of the sky, not the lean of the trees, not even the way the mist hung low like it had been waiting just for you. it was exactly as you remembered. quiet, gray, and so infuriatingly unchanged, like the town had held its breath the moment you left and never bothered to exhale.

the four hour greyhound ride down from tacoma was slow. the bus rattled over uneven roads, dipping and climbing with the rhythm of old pavement, its engine humming low beneath the muted conversations that flared up and faded at every stop. olympia, aberdeen, port angeles. places you hadn’t visited since you were thirteen.

you stayed silent the whole time, pressed into a window seat halfway back, earplugs in, radiohead on loop. street spirit played again and again until the bitter edge of it started to gnaw at your nerves, its irony not lost on you as it dragged you deeper into your own head. by the fifteenth repeat it was less a song and more a weight, something that clung to your hoodie like the fog waiting for you in forks. thick and familiar and impossible to shake.

the air was thick with mist that clung to everything like memory, curling around the moss covered trees and soaking into the cracked sidewalks. the sky, an endless stretch of gray, pressed low against the treetops as if trying to fold the town in on itself. winter in forks was not just a season but a mood that settled into your bones, slow and unshakable, the kind of cold that didn’t bite so much as seep. rain drizzled endlessly, not dramatic enough to be noticed but constant enough to matter. it filled potholes and dripped from the eaves of houses that all seemed to slump a little under the weight of the damp. passing by the familiar ‘welcome to forks’ sign, you couldn’t help but be reminded of a particularly wet winter in ninety-four. you were eight, and your older brother was fourteen. one moment you were both sitting in the living room of the old family house watching rugrats, the next your father cursed loud enough to shatter the quiet enjoyment when he slipped on a patch of ice outside the window. the violent man milked his fall for as long as he could before his frustrations brought a sour taste to your mouth. a taste which, unavoidably, resurfaced the very minute his old face flashed into your memory.

you shook your head, chest exhaling deep as you pushed his face to the deepest parts of your mind. 

tacoma had a rhythm to its cold, something you could brace against and forget once you stepped indoors. the first winter you spent in the shabby tacoma apartment you’d call home for six years with your brother was bleak. the first thing he did after graduating was hightail it out of forks. he’d finally reached his limit with your father’s violence and dragged you away, unwilling to leave you behind to face a man who drowned himself in cans of budweiser and cared more about friday night football than his own children. it wasn’t a choice he wanted to make, but it was the only way out. your brother’s quiet strength was the only warmth you had that winter, a fragile hope that things might change. and it did. it got better. you were happy. for all of the six years you were away from forks, you not once found yourself wishing you could go back.

alas, the universe was cruel.

the one year anniversary of your brother's death was spent in pained silence two weeks before you finally had the courage to pack up and leave tacoma. he was only twenty-four. the news hit you hard. it didn’t make any sense. he was young, healthy. one moment he was there, laughing. alive. the next, he was gone. he left behind a silence so loud it swallowed everything else. the days that followed blurred together, each one heavier than the last and filled with questions that had no answers. 

jaehyun was the first to reach out. without hesitation, he offered you a place to stay, a lifeline you desperately needed. with nothing left holding you where you were, you packed your bags and followed him back to forks. the very town you thought you had left behind but was waiting to pull you back in.

low and behold, the very second you stepped off the greyhound, jaehyun’s face was the first thing you saw. he was standing just beyond the bus doors, arms crossed over his chest, a familiar silhouette in the fog heavy forks air. before your feet even touched the pavement, he was already moving, striding forward with the same urgency you remembered from the summers when he and your brother used to drag you out of bed before noon for gas station slushies. his hug hit like a freight train. tight, grounding, and way too fast for you to brace for. he didn’t say anything at first, just squeezed you until your shoulders unclenched, until your fingers remembered how to hold on.

“you look like hell,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to get a good look at you.

“thanks,” you deadpanned, voice rough from the ride.

he grinned, the same crooked grin that hadn’t changed since high school. he looked older, sure. broader in the shoulders, a little sharper in the jaw. but the warmth behind his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere.

he was wearing the standard forks police uniform, same khaki and green getup you briefly remembered adorning chief swan. heavy duty jacket with the department patch on the sleeve, utility belt clipped tight around his waist, boots already damp with roadside slush. his name tag was crooked, and he had one of those old county issued radios clipped to his shoulder, static crackling faintly through it.

you’d seen a lot of uniforms over the years, but somehow jaehyun made his look like it didn’t quite fit. like it was a costume he put on for the sake of the town, but not something he’d ever let define him.

“you still riding around in that death trap?” you asked, nodding toward the cruiser parked half up on the curb.

“death trap’s got a new engine,” jaehyun said, giving the hood a quick pat as you both moved toward the cruiser. at some point he swiped your bags right off your shoulder, slinging them over his own like it was nothing. before you could protest, he popped open the back door and tossed them in with a practiced ease.

“still drives like she did back in the day. louder, maybe. more attitude.” he paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “oh! before i forget…”

he ducked halfway into the back seat, rummaging through an old duffel crammed between worn jackets and loose paperwork. when he turned back, there was something in his hands. a small box. square, wrapped in faded violet paper that looked like it’d been folded and re-folded more than once. a thin, almost apologetic bow sat crooked on top, like someone had tried their best and still didn’t get it quite right.

his expression softened as he held it out to you. it was a real smile, one of the rare ones he didn’t give away easily. but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. not all the way. there was something behind it. careful, perhaps.

“happy eighteenth, y/n,” he said. “he would’ve wanted you to have it.”

you didn’t need to ask who he was. you knew he meant your brother. the wince on his face was enough to tell you that not even jaehyun could say his name aloud after all this time.

you took the box with both hands, slow, like it might break. the paper crackled faintly as you peeled it open, and there it was. a keychain. old and a little beat up, the kind of thing you almost forget about until it’s back in your hands. shaped like a guitar pick, cool and worn, with a name engraved on one side. not his full name. just the nickname only a few people ever used. you were one of them. 

he used to keep it clipped to his backpack. the same one he took everywhere, even when he had nothing to carry. you remembered it bouncing against the zipper while he walked ahead of you, never looking back but always slowing just enough so you could catch up.

you curled your fingers around it. the metal was cold. familiar. heavy in a way that had nothing to do with weight. you pressed your thumb against the engraving and swallowed hard.

you tightened your grip on the box, thumb brushing over the corner, and forced your jaw to relax. no tears. not now. maybe not ever. still, your voice came out quiet. steadier than you expected.

“thank you, jae.”

he didn’t say anything. just gave a small nod and closed the door behind you as you settled into the passenger seat. he said nothing as you carefully slipped the keychain back into the box and delicately placed it inside your jacket pocket. the unspoken understanding between you was clearer than any words could convey.

the drive through forks was quiet, broken only by the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers and the soft crackle of the police radio. jaehyun didn’t say much, and you didn’t mind. he knew better than to fill the silence just for the sake of it. the town drifted by in slow, familiar pieces. the same old diner you used to eat at after games on fridays, the same mom-and-pop shops you once upon a time frequented for free candy. you leaned your forehead against the cool window and watched the trees blur by, their limbs black against the silver fog. 

it was almost hard to believe you were eighteen now. legally an adult. whatever that meant. you didn’t feel like one. not really. you were supposed to be starting your senior year, figuring out prom and college applications and how to parallel park. instead, you were starting over in a town you’d promised yourself you’d never come back to. at a school where everyone already knew each other, no less, where the halls would echo with names and memories you had no part in.

daunting didn’t even begin to cover it.

as jaehyun turned off the main road, the neighborhood started to shift. not quite suburban, not quite rural. houses here were spaced out, modest but sturdy, each one set against a backdrop of thick woods. you could tell who had lived here a while by the moss creeping up their fences, the way the driveways dipped under too much rain. and then, finally, you pulled up to a familiar old house.

jaehyun’s place used to be his parents’. it sat quiet on a cul-de-sac near the edge of town, a two story with weathered blue siding and a front porch that had seen better days. behind the house, the woods pressed in close. or at least, close enough to blur the edge between backyard and forest. it wasn’t quite the middle of nowhere, but it wasn’t far off either.

it looked almost exactly the same as you remembered. you’d been here plenty of times as a kid, back when your brother and jaehyun would drag you along for movie nights or last minute barbecues. you remembered sitting on the porch with a popsicle that melted too fast and being chased by mosquitoes just before dark. those memories came back slowly, soft edged and grainy like old photos.

jaehyun parked at the end of the short gravel driveway and cut the engine. the cruiser settled with a quiet creak.

“still standing,” he said, glancing over at you with a small grin. “barely.”

you opened the door and stepped out. the air was colder here, cleaner somehow. it smelled like wet pine and old leaves. your boots crunched against the gravel as you wrapped yourself tighter into your coat, the box in your pocket pressing faintly into your side. you paused before heading up the porch steps, jaehyun close behind after fetching your bags from the backseat. the house stared back at you like it had been waiting. not welcoming, not cold. just… there. unchanged. unbothered by everything that had happened in the years between.

you shifted your weight and looked up at the second floor window. the light inside was off. but you knew, without even asking, that was where you’d be staying.

home. at least for now.

‎ 

it didn’t take long to unpack. most of what you brought from tacoma could fit into two bags. clothes, a few books, the essentials. of all the things your brother had accumulated over the years, you could only find it within yourself to keep the most valuable. the couch was auctioned, the tv sold. the rest were pieces of him. the things you couldn’t leave behind, even if you barely had the strength to carry them.

his old hoodie, the one you were wearing now, smelled faintly like cedar and fabric softener, though it was probably just your memory filling in the gaps. the sleeves were a little too long, the hem fraying, but you kept your hands tucked into the front pocket anyway.

you’d wrapped his graduation photo in a layer of towels and sealed it in a padded box. not because the glass was fragile, you’d dropped it once before and it didn’t even crack, but because looking at his face for more than a few seconds made your chest ache in a way that didn’t go away with breathing. he was eighteen in that picture. alive with possibility. a crooked grin and a tassel barely hanging on. it hurt in all the quiet ways.

you left it in your new room, flipped down inside the drawer.

by the time you wandered downstairs, the sun was gone. the air inside jaehyun’s house was warm and dimly lit, the kind of cozy that came from low watt bulbs and aging furniture. the walls were still that familiar shade of off-white, and the floor creaked in the same two spots it always had. some things hadn’t changed.

the kitchen was open to the dining room, separated only by a worn breakfast bar stacked with unopened mail. the smell of something savory lingered in the air. garlic, maybe, and soy. the overhead light hummed softly.

jaehyun stood by the stove in a gray long sleeve and faded sweats, his sleeves pushed up past his elbows. his badge and uniform were gone, replaced by something more real. he looked like someone who had finally taken the weight off for the day.

“figured you’d come down eventually,” he said without looking up, stirring something in a pan.

“figured you’d drag me down by the ear. why not do the job for you?” you replied, your voice even.

he grinned at that, then nodded toward the table. “grab a seat. it’s nothing fancy.”

you sat at the small square table near the window. he’d already set it. two plates, two forks, and a pair of mismatched glasses half filled with water. a football game played low on the tv in the next room, all muffled crowd noise and bright commentary. probably the seahawks. neither of you were watching.

he slid a steaming plate in front of you. stir fried noodles, a fried egg on top, and more seasoning than necessary. but it smelled good. comforting, even.

“you cook now?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

“don’t sound so shocked.”

“i’m not. just trying to picture you grocery shopping.”

“i do it in uniform,” he said, deadpan. “people don’t cut in line when you’ve got a gun.”

you let out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. he cracked another grin before sitting across from you, digging into his own plate.

for a while, neither of you said anything. the forks clinked softly against the ceramic, and the rain started up again outside. steady and slow, like it wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. the house was quiet in a way only houses on the edge of woods can be, like the silence belonged to the trees outside.

“thanks for dinner,” you said eventually, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

jaehyun looked up and gave a small nod. “anytime.”

you leaned back in your chair, thumb absently brushing the frayed cuff of the hoodie. his hoodie.

“you still sleep with the tv on?” you asked, glancing toward the living room.

“only during football season,” he said.

“that’s year round.”

he shrugged. “convenient for me, then.”

you snorted, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like a performance. just something real. instinctive. the sound of muscle memory sparking back to life.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence after that, the kind that didn’t ask for conversation, just presence. the kind that came with old friendship and heavier years. jaehyun didn’t push. maybe he figured you’d talk when you were ready. maybe he just knew better than to rush a moment like this. still, he couldn’t help himself. after a few beats, he hummed quietly, setting his fork down with a soft clink.

“you remember that old truck your brother used to drive?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, one hand curling around his water glass. “the piece of shit with the busted tail light and the paint peeling off like sunburn?”

you looked up, expression deadpan. “you mean the one that got impounded after he drifted it into the back of your dad’s cruiser?”

jaehyun let out a short, sharp laugh, shoulders shaking. “yeah. that one.”

you smirked. “he tried to lie about it, said the road was iced over.”

“in june,” jaehyun added, grinning. “pops wasn’t buying it. i swear, i thought he was gonna strangle your brother right there. then shoot me for standing too close.”

“i’m surprised he didn’t.”

“same.” he exhaled through his nose, the smile still lingering but pulled thin around the edges. “you call my cruiser a death trap, but man, that truck was something else. your brother loved it, though. wouldn’t shut up about the ‘engine personality’ like it was some kind of misunderstood animal.”

you nodded faintly, the memory flickering. you could still hear the way your brother used to curse under his breath when it stalled at stop signs. how he’d slap the steering wheel twice before trying again, like that would make it cooperate. like the truck just needed encouragement. 

you could also remember how upset he was when he had to leave it behind. 

jaehyun leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping a loose rhythm. “pops still talks about that day, believe it or not. every now and then, something will set him off. football on mute, an old car commercial. and suddenly he’s right back there, ranting about liability and teenage dumbasses.”

you raised an eyebrow. “does he still think you were a bad influence?”

jaehyun gave you a pointed look. “i was a saint. your brother was the problem.”

you huffed, amused, then watched as his expression shifted. softened. his gaze dropped to the table.

“funny thing is,” he said, voice quieter now, “pops gets all fired up like it just happened, like he’s still trying to figure out how we didn’t burn down half the town. but sometimes he forgets why he’s even telling the story. just trails off. like the ending got too heavy to hold.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, almost absently, as if trying to ground himself. “guess i do that too. forget. or try to. but then it comes back in these weird little ways. something someone says, a smell, a stupid commercial. and suddenly there he is. like no time’s passed.”

his thumb tapped once against the edge of his glass. then again.

you didn’t say anything right away. there wasn’t much that needed to be said. it hung between you. not silence, but shared weight. the kind of grief that doesn’t roar. it lingers. it waits.

you reached for your glass, took a slow sip, then met his eyes.

“you never really forget,” you said simply. “you just learn how to carry it.”

jaehyun gave a small nod. 

another beat of silence passed before this time, it was your turn to ask a question. 

“why did you invite me to stay with you?” 

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he glanced at you then down at his plate, like the question had caught him off guard. not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he hadn’t expected you to ask.

“you’re serious?” he said after a moment, like he wasn’t sure if you were messing with him.

you didn’t blink. “dead serious.”

he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms loosely over his chest as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. perhaps it was. “because you’re like a sister to me, y/n. always have been. since you were that tiny little rugrat sneaking into the room when me and your brother were trying to play doom in peace.”

you smiled faintly at the memory, but stayed silent. 

“you were the annoying tagalong. the loudmouth with popsicle stains and scraped knees who always wanted to prove she could hang,” he continued, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “but then somewhere along the way, you just… became family.”

his smile didn’t hold long. it dropped, slow but sure, like something giving way under too much weight.

“i couldn’t just sit back after he—” jaehyun paused, jaw working for a second. “after everything.”

you knew who he meant. he didn’t need to say it. your brother had been everything to both of you. his best friend. your entire world.

“he would’ve done the same for me,” jaehyun added, quieter now. “hell, probably faster. wouldn’t have even thought twice.”

you watched him for a second, the way his fingers fidgeted slightly against his arm, the way his gaze stayed fixed somewhere past the table like if he looked at you it might hurt too much. not because he pitied you. but because he missed him too.

“i love you, kid,” he said finally, voice steady but raw at the edges. “you’re all i’ve got left of him.”

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away. you just nodded, once, slow.

maybe you should’ve said it back. maybe you should’ve leveled his emotional admission with one of your own. but truth be told, you didn’t know how. so you asked the next question that came to mind. 

“why’d you ask about the car?”

he knew how you felt all the same without the words needing to be said. 

“right. that,” he said, like he was just remembering. “so. i’ve got some news.”

you raised a brow. “good news?”

“depends who you ask,” he said. “i made some calls at work today. one of the guys from the rez got back to me a couple hours ago.”

your curiosity perked. you sat forward a little.

“and?”

“they’ve got it,” jaehyun said, tapping a knuckle lightly on the table. “the truck. your brother’s. turns out it’s been sitting in a junk lot just past la push this whole time.”

your eyes widened before you could stop them.

“seriously?”

he nodded, and there was something soft in his expression. carefully buried, but there. “yep. beat to hell, but still in one piece. mostly.”

you couldn’t help the breath that escaped your chest. a laugh, almost. incredulous. the thought of that old, rumbling piece of junk still existing was… absurd.

“that’s amazing.”

“glad you think so,” jaehyun said, pushing back his chair and standing up with his plate in hand. “’cause it’s yours now.”

you blinked. “what?”

“already paid for it,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the sink. “well, not much to pay, but still. just gotta go down and sign the salvage paperwork. they’ll hand over the keys.”

you stared at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nope.”

he started rinsing off the plate, voice casual. “figured you might want to see it one more time before they gutted it for parts. maybe even keep it. fix it up, if you’ve got the stomach for it.”

“jaehyun…”

he waved you off with the flick of a dish towel, not bothering to turn around. “don’t make it weird. i just thought—hell, i don’t know. maybe it’s stupid. maybe it means nothing. but when i heard it was still out there, i couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you riding around in that thing like you owned the world.”

he turned back toward you then. not quite meeting your eyes. “it felt like… something worth keeping.”

you stood quietly, fingers curled against the edge of the table. no words rose to meet his. not right away. so you crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him instead.

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t tearful. it was quiet, like everything else had been that night. just arms around him, forehead against his shoulder, breath steady.

he froze for half a second, then let out a breath and hugged you back. his hand came up to pat the back of your head like it was instinct.

“it’s really not a big deal,” he mumbled, voice a little rougher now. “it’s a shitty old truck, y/n.”

“i know,” you murmured.

but neither of you moved. not yet.

it wasn’t about the truck. not really. you both knew that. it was about memory, and the pieces of him still left scattered in the world.

jaehyun, quietly, made sure you got to keep one.

__

when you woke up on monday morning, the last thing you expected was to be embarrassed within the point-zero-two seconds you stepped on highschool soil. it was another cold, rainy day and jaehyun offered to drive you. you knew better than to say no. the last thing you needed was to walk through the downpour until you were waterlogged to the bone, or ride the bus and deal with the shenanigans of seniors you had no interest in meeting. though perhaps you should’ve rethought your decision. 

jaehyun’s cruiser rolled into the school parking lot with all the subtlety of a small town parade. he flicked the siren once, a sharp, obnoxious whoop reverberating through the lot. he leaned across the seat to grin stupidly at you through the open passenger window, watching the way you  halfheartedly got out of the car with a low groan. 

“seriously?” you said, not even bothering to look at him.

“just marking the grand return,” he said, all teeth. “gotta let the people know a local legend’s back.”

“you’re annoying,” you muttered, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “maybe i should file a complaint. ‘police officer harasses student on school grounds’. thoughts?”

“have fun at school, kid. don’t do drugs,” he called, pointedly ignoring your latter comment. he laughed and pulled away before you could say anything else, tires crunching over wet gravel as the cruiser left the parking lot. 

you didn’t rush. didn’t flinch. you adjusted your bag, shoved your hands into your coat pockets, and walked toward the high school doors with a small roll of your eyes.

as much as you wanted to play it cool and avoid embarrassing yourself any more than jaehyun already had, it was hard to ignore the few stares aimed your way. especially from the group standing in the far corner of the lot beside a silver volvo and a black bmw convertible. when you glanced over, just for a second, they were already gone.

"i’m going crazy already," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with one hand before finally stepping into the high school foyer.

forks high was exactly the kind of place you expected it to be. quiet. cold. a little too clean in some corners and not clean enough in others. the entryway was all pale tile and dull brick, the kind of off-white that never really looked white, just tired. bulletin boards lined the walls, cluttered with curling flyers. student council meetings, lost and found notes, half ripped posters for drama club auditions. everything smelled faintly of rain, as if the weather had soaked into the walls and never quite left.

the ceiling was low, lined with flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed just loud enough to irritate. lockers stretched down the hallway like a muted steel spine, dented and marked with years of quiet rebellion. stickers half-scraped off, initials carved into paint.

students milled around, voices low, footsteps soft against the linoleum. it wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. you moved through the space like you’d been here before, because you had, sort of. memories trickled in, slow and out of order. you could almost picture your younger self walking these halls, small and quiet and trailing behind your brother.

but that version of you was long gone. and this place, for all its sameness, would have to meet a new you.

you made it to the admissions office without needing directions. same yellowing tile, same bulletin board, same secretary who didn’t look up until you were standing directly in front of her desk.

she handed over a folded class schedule and a half mumbled “you’ll need to get that slip signed,” like it was muscle memory. you took the papers with a nod and turned to go. only, you were stopped by the presence of a tall girl standing in the doorway.

the desi girl stopped just a second before she bumped into you completely, her mouth opening as if she was a second away from saying something either gently condescending, or something downright cruel— no inbetween. but she closed her mouth just as swiftly as if she recognized who you were.

she was stunning. dark hair fell around her face in loose waves, effortless like it always looked that way. her brown skin caught the light just right, glowing with the kind of confidence you couldn’t fake. she wore a long coat over a fitted tank, no backpack in sight. just a worn leather tote slung over one shoulder like she didn’t have a care in the world. she didn’t look like she was trying, which only made it worse. or better, depending on your angle.

for a moment, neither of you moved. her eyes scanned your face, cool and calculating, like she was trying to place you in a lineup. yours were more confused than anything, unsure why this girl, who clearly didn’t hand out her attention lightly, was giving you so much of it.

then she tilted her head, the slightest shift, and something in her expression changed. not softened exactly, but warmed in a way that felt out of place for someone who looked like she lived on disinterest.

“…y/n?”

you raised a brow. “yes...?”

the sarcasm that had been brimming on her lips vanished before it could land. the edge in her voice dulled.

“thought so,” she said, and for a second, it almost sounded like she was glad.

you gave her a once over. the curve of her mouth, the way she stood like she owned the hallway. there was something familiar in it, just out of reach. a feeling more than a memory, like a song you used to know by heart but hadn’t heard in years.

"lara raj," she said, watching your face like she was waiting for the click of recognition. "we used to carpool. preschool. your mom had that beat up red station wagon, the one with the broken cassette player that only played static and that one lion king tape."

the image came back slowly, hazy at the edges. her, years smaller, hair frazzled and curly, legs swinging from the edge of the backseat. your mom's voice humming along to muffled music, a juice box passed between sticky fingers. a simple time before everything got complicated.

"wow," your eyes widened slightly, still caught somewhere between surprise and nostalgia. "i haven't thought about that car in forever."

lara smiled, just enough to soften her sharp edges. her gaze lingered on you a second too long to be casual.

"yeah, i try not to think about preschool me either. tragic fashion choices," she said, a small laugh in her voice. then, she pointedly looked you up and down. she leaned against the door of the office, the administration lady long forgotten behind you. "but you? hard to forget."

the way she said it wasn’t overly sweet, but it carried a weight that made your stomach dip. like she knew exactly how pretty she was and wasn’t afraid to use it.

"the glow up suits you, by the way," she added, eyes skimming you again, slower this time.

you weren’t sure what surprised you more. her remembering, or the fact that she actually seemed happy to see you.

you grinned, just a little. “i’d say the same but all i can think about is your pink shoes.”

the corners of lara's lips tilted up into a small smirk, quick and clean. “damn. you do remember.”

“hard to forget someone who cried when someone else wore the same pair.”

“okay, rude,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes briefly before that same calm expression returned to her pretty face. “but i’ll let it slide.”

you stepped aside to let someone pass through the narrow doorway, but lara barely budged. that was all it took to figure her out. she was the kind of person who expected the world to move around her, because she never moved for anyone. a small part of you couldn’t help but envy that.

she nodded toward the paper in your hands. "first day?"

“yes,” you nodded, glancing down to read the fine print text. you grimaced. “i’ve got no clue where i’m supposed to be.”

she nodded, thoughtful. “then you’re with me.”

you didn’t ask if she was supposed to be your guide.  the way she said it made it clear it wasn’t a question. even if she wasn’t, something told you she just wanted the excuse to talk a little longer.

lara pried the paper from your hands, her eyes scanning the paper carefully. after a moment she folded it back up and nodded for you to follow her wordlessly, the hallways practically parting like the red sea around her as she lead you to your first class of the day. you walked together, slow and unbothered, like this was something you’d done before. when you notice the very pointed stares shot your way, you awkwardly leaned in close enough for her to hear.

“so, lara... mind telling me why everyone’s looking at you like you shot lennon?”

the hallway hummed with the quiet chaos of a monday morning. sneakers squeaked against freshly waxed floors, lockers slammed shut with tired finality. lara didn’t even glance around. she walked like she didn’t notice the stares. or rather, like she didn’t care.

“oh, you know,” she said with a lazy shrug, her tone almost bored. “you tell one guy to shut the hell up in chem, maybe threaten to cut his brake lines if he doesn’t stop talking during your quiz, and suddenly you’re a menace to society. go figure.”

you blinked. “wow. totally reasonable behavior.”

“right?” she flashed you a grin, unapologetic. “people can be so dramatic.”

you shook your head with a small laugh, adjusting the strap of your bag as you both rounded a corner. the crowd seemed to melt out of her way, as if they were used to doing it. or perhaps, too scared not to.

“so,” lara said after a beat, her voice quieter now. “what’re you doing back here? i didn’t think i’d ever see you again after you just… up and left.”

you hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “well, i don’t know if ‘up and left’ is the phrase i’d use.” 

lara glanced at you from the corner of her eye, skeptical. “still. one day you’re there, the next you’re just gone. no warning. it sucked.”

you glanced at her, surprised by the blunt honesty.

“what’s it to you?” you asked, trying to keep it light. “didn’t think you’d even remember me.”

she scoffed, rolling her eyes in that smooth, practiced way that said she absolutely knew how cool she looked doing it. “can’t a girl miss a pretty face?”

you snorted. “i’m sure my middle school acne was miss america material.”

lara tilted her head slightly. “yeah, well. look at you now. i think it all worked out.”

you blinked, heat rising to your cheeks before you could stop it. lara just kept walking like she hadn’t dropped a casual bomb on your morning. her third semi-compliment and you weren’t even ten minutes into the day yet.

she stopped a few steps later in front of a classroom, gesturing inside with a subtle nod of her head. but even as the bell rang, as bodies started racing through the halls to make it on time, she didn’t move. her absolute nonchalance made you feel somewhat nervous. how the hell did this girl make it to senior year?

lara stared you down, the corner of her lips tilting up. “come find me at lunch, yeah? i’ll introduce you to some of my friends.”

you couldn’t help but furrow your brows, your eyes narrowing doubtfully. “something tells me this isn’t an offer you give everybody.”

she simply shrugged, her feet finally turning and carrying her in the opposite direction. still, her voice carried through the hall loud enough for you to hear over the sound of the bell and chatter.  “maybe one could say i just have a soft spot. be there or don’t, it’s up to you. but i know i’d like to see you again.”

and that was it. you stood in the doorway and watched her walk, snorting quietly when she slammed into a freshman not paying attention to his surroundings with a less-than-apologetic roll of her eyes. lara raj was so unlike the girl you used to know when you were kids. but somehow, you knew her presence alone was going to make this transition so much easier.

‎ 

by the time lunch rolled around, you were nearly convinced your brain had liquefied. something about first day overstimulation made even the simplest subjects feel like complex equations. names blurred, directions tangled, and your feet were already beginning to ache from pacing between unfamiliar classrooms.

still, you’d survived. mostly.

the cafeteria was louder than you'd expected. it buzzed with conversation, the scraping of plastic trays, and the occasional obnoxious burst of laughter. the scent of underwhelming food drifted in thick waves, clashing with the faint tang of rain still clinging to students’ jackets.

you stood at the entrance for a moment, scanning the room. and then you saw her. lara sat at one of the center tables, leaning back in her chair like she owned it. legs crossed, posture relaxed. she wasn’t alone.

the first girl your eyes darted to was the one with long, dark curly hair falling past her shoulders and a cool, unreadable expression stitched across her face. her curls complimented her dark skin beautifully, her eyeliner capturing the sharpness of her eyes.  the second girl had sleek, straight hair dyed a bright orange and a slightly dazed look in her eyes, like her brain was on a three second delay. the thought almost brought a grin to your face as you walked over.

lara spotted you immediately. her lips curved into that same half smile she’d worn all morning. “look who didn’t chicken out.”

“wasn’t sure if the invite was real,” you replied, sitting across from her. “you don’t seem like the type to socialize.”

lara tilted her head slightly. “you’re not wrong. but i make exceptions.”

the dark haired girl beside her raised a brow. “this the new girl?”

“y/n,” lara said, nodding toward you. “she’s an old friend.”

“friend?” the orange haired girl echoed, blinking. “damn, i didn’t know lara had those.”

lara didn’t blink. “i don’t.”

across the table, the dark haired girl gave a slow, deliberate smile. “manon,” she offered, introducing herself with a cool accent you couldn’t place. somewhere european, smooth and crisp. “please don’t let lara’s attitude scare you. i’m glad we have someone new coming to sit with us.”

“megan,” the other girl said, waving with her spoon. “i’m the one who makes this table tolerable. sometimes.”

“she’s not lying,” lara murmured, resting her chin on her hand. “it’s mostly manon and me making fun of people. megan’s the comic relief.”

“every group needs a clown,” megan said cheerfully, not the least bit offended. “besides, my gpa’s higher than both of yours. clown and valedictorian? the duality is crazy.”

manon’s eyes zeroed in on you after a moment, curious as she ignored the younger girl's words with a roll of her eyes. megan pouted slightly when no one acknowledged her, but dug back into her yoghurt anyway. 

“so,” manon drawled, scanning your frame. “what’s your deal? i’ll be honest, it’s a small town. the moment we all heard someone new was moving in, it kinda made rounds. it’s unusual.”

megan chimed in with a small hum, leaning forward with equal curiosity, spoon in mouth. “forks isn’t anything special. you’re staying with that cute cop, right? officer jeong?”

your eyes blew wide. “cute? i don’t know about that. jaehyun’s like a brother.” then you trailed off, thoughtful. you didn’t know these girls well enough to splurge too much detail, not yet. instead you shrugged. “just needed a change in scenery, i guess. he’s  an old family friend and had a spare room. nothing too interesting.”

lara hummed. “interesting enough. not a lot happens around here. you coming back is probably the most entertaining thing to happen in a while. except for–” she stopped mid sentence. not dramatically. more like her words just slipped away, pulled by something just out of frame.

you noticed the shift immediately. her posture straightened, a subtle lean in her stance like she was trying not to stare too obviously. you followed her gaze.

and that’s when you saw her.

long legs, bare despite the cold, framed by the curve of a short dark denim skirt. her jacket was cropped and tailored, hugging her waist with silver stitching that glinted when she moved. brown boots laced high over her calves, fur lining the edges like something out of a high fashion wilderness. every inch of her was styled, but not forced. like this wasn’t her best effort. it was just any regular old monday. 

her hair fell in thick, effortless waves, black and glossy. she had the kind of beauty you didn’t speak about out loud. too sharp, too deliberate. as if someone had sculpted her with a precise hand, then had the audacity to give her those lips. full, lacquered, and slightly parted. her eyes were ringed with dark lashes, skin soft like moonlight filtered through silk. and yet, despite all that, there was something distant about her. not cold, not unkind. just… out of reach. like she existed on the other side of glass and hadn’t decided yet whether she’d let anyone cross.

she glanced across the room once, slow, unbothered. the kind of look that made people straighten in their chairs without realizing. her gaze skimmed past you, and even that made your pulse stutter. not because she’d seen you. but because, just for a second, it felt like she might.

then she turned and walked to a table near the windows where another girl was already sat. curly brown hair, a beauty mark above her eyebrow. she was breathtakingly gorgeous, too. still, your gaze wandered back to the black haired beauty. they didn’t greet each other with words. just a glance, a tilt of the head. some quiet understanding that only made her feel further away. 

“who is she?” you asked, voice low, words barely leaving your mouth.

manon looked up, followed your line of sight, and hummed in recognition.

“that’s sophia laforteza. if i were you, i wouldn’t bother trying to get too close. her and her sisters don’t really talk to anyone outside of each other.”

“sisters?”

“adopted. daniela’s in our year, and yoonchae’s a junior. rumor has it there’s more, but who knows.” manon shrugged. “it’s not like anyone can get close to find out. they just stick to themselves.”

you didn’t answer right away. your eyes were still locked onto sophia and her sister, who you assumed was daniela. they didn’t say much. barely looked around. there was a kind of practiced quiet about them, like they were used to being watched but didn’t care.

“you should see their dad. man, does he got it going on,” megan added, lips twisting into a silly grin.

you blinked. maybe you were imagining it, but you could’ve sworn sophia’s jaw clenched. her nose twitched up like she’d caught a bad smell, just for a split second. no one else seemed to notice, or care, so you shrugged it off. must’ve been a trick of the light.

manon continued after a beat, dismissing megan’s words with a subtle eye roll.  “her dad, insung, is a doctor. his wife does some kind of home renovation thing. i don’t know, really. all i do know is that they won’t give you the time of day. especially not sophia.”

lara chimed in with a snort. “do you remember when jungwon tried asking her out and she ignored him completely? poor guy was laughed at for two weeks straight after.”

“well yeah, but that’s because he ran into a wall hightailing it out of the cafeteria. if you ask me, he did it to himself.”

the conversation drifted on from there, the girls falling back into idle gossip and half laughed stories, but you stayed quiet.

your eyes kept drifting back to sophia’s table.

you weren’t trying to be obvious about it, but it didn’t matter. the pull was gravitational. something about her lingered in the back of your mind, like the echo of a song you couldn’t name. it was in the way she sat, shoulders relaxed but spine straight, chin tilted like she was carved from stillness. everything about her was deliberate. still. certain. like she’d never once second guessed anything in her life.

you couldn’t tell if it was admiration, curiosity, or something else altogether. all you knew was that no matter how many times you forced your gaze to shift, it always returned to her.

sophia hadn’t looked up once. not toward you, not toward anyone. she didn’t need to. she was above it. not in the petty, mean girl way people liked to throw around, but in that impossible, untouchable way some people just were. like the air bent around her.

and then she looked at you.

it was sharp. not sudden, not startled. but sharp. like she’d been trying not to, like she was irritated she even had to. her gaze snapped to yours across the room, and for the first time since you walked into forks high, your breath caught.

her eyes were dark. endless. and furious.

not in a loud, expressive way. no. this was quiet rage. confused, measured, simmering just under the surface. her jaw clenched slightly, her brow barely twitching. she looked at you like you were the one thing in the room that didn’t make sense,  and it angered her.

and god, she was beautiful.

more beautiful, even, than when she wasn’t looking at you. with the full weight of her attention on you, she became something else entirely. sharp edged, magnetic, electric. every line of her face was clearer now, every curve more impossible. her glossy lips were parted just slightly, her eyes unreadable but piercing. 

you didn’t look away. 

but it didn’t matter. one blink was all it took. like flipping a switch, the connection severed, cold and immediate. she turned back to her sister, untouched. uninterested. like the moment hadn’t happened at all.

but it had.

and you were still sitting there, heartbeat in your throat, wondering why it felt like she hadn’t just looked at you, but into you.

and she found nothing.

__

the rest of the day passed in a blur. teachers spoke, classmates introduced themselves, bells rang. you moved through all of it like you were watching yourself from somewhere else. distant. unfocused. if you were honest with yourself, you knew exactly why.

sophia laforteza.

pale skin, glossy lips, eyes like razors. you couldn’t stop thinking about her. not the way she looked in the casual sense, though that, too. but the way it felt when her eyes met yours. like being held under a microscope. examined. dismissed. it wasn’t just her beauty that lingered. it was the sharpness of it, the way she seemed to move through the world untouched, unaffected. like she didn’t need to speak to be heard. like the air around her shifted to make space.

her face kept flashing behind your eyelids every time you blinked. that single, perfect curl falling over her shoulder. the way her dark lashes framed those piercing, unreadable eyes. the fullness of her lips, too glossy, too perfect to be real. it was like looking at a painting that dared you to understand it, and punished you for trying.

you’d hadn’t spoken a word to her, and yet she managed to embed herself in your brain like a splinter. no warning, no introduction. just in, under your skin and in the quiet corners of your mind.

it was absurd. maddening. unfair.

because what kind of cosmic joke was it to let someone like her exist? someone so thoroughly, heartbreakingly gorgeous, and then drop her into your reality without warning? as if it was normal. as if people like her weren’t supposed to live somewhere else entirely. magazine covers, film premieres, dreams.

but no. she was here. in your school. sitting at a cafeteria table with her sister like she hadn’t just shattered your internal equilibrium. you were still trying to piece yourself together.

you tried to shake it off. to ground yourself in the mundane. but even then, your mind drifted back to her. back to that strange, silent moment where she’d looked at you like your very existence had thrown her off course. you didn’t know what that meant. you didn’t know why it mattered. you just knew it did. somewhere behind those dark eyes, there was a secret. and for reasons you couldn’t explain, you wanted to be the one to uncover it.

you were pulled from your thoughts by the sudden clang of your head smacking into the side of a clevis hangar, the sharp ring echoing off the concrete walls of jaehyun’s garage. pain bloomed above your eyebrow, and you muttered a curse under your breath, raising a hand to rub the sore spot.

behind you, jaehyun burst out laughing.

“shit, sorry! that was not part of the surprise.”

“please,” you groaned, “take this damn blindfold off before I get a concussion.”

“right, yeah, hang on.”

you felt him step behind you, the knot at the back of your head loosening with a tug of his fingers. the fabric slipped away and for a moment you had to blink, letting your eyes adjust to the harsh fluorescent light overhead. then you saw it. it hit you like a punch to the gut.

your brother’s truck.

old. beat up. unmistakable. the faded blue eighty-six chevrolet sat at the center of the garage like some relic from a different lifetime. rust clung to the edges of the hood, the tires were half deflated, and the front bumper was still crooked from that incident with jaehyun’s father. 

but it was his.

your breath caught in your throat, and for a second all you could do was stare. it was like seeing a ghost in daylight. impossible and undeniable all at once.

jaehyun shifted beside you, still grinning, hands planted on his hips like he’d just won a prize.

“well?” he asked. “recognize it?”

“yeah,” you said, barely above a whisper. “yeah, i do.”

you stepped closer, fingers brushing over the worn driver side door like it might vanish if you touched it too hard. the metal was cold beneath your hand. familiar. real.

“how the hell did you get her back here?“

he gave a small self satisfied shrug, like it hadn’t taken him two weeks of back-and-forth calls and a favor from a friend who owed him.

“i had it towed. nothing a little elbow grease and some calls couldn’t do.”

you glanced at him, then back at the truck. the corners of your mouth lifted. barely.

“you really think she’s gonna run?”

jaehyun raised his brows, took a step forward, and rapped twice on the hood like he was waking up an old friend.

“only one way to find out.”

you didn’t hesitate. the door creaked when you pulled it open, louder than you remembered, and the interior smelled faintly of old vinyl and motor oil. exactly like it used to. you climbed in and sat behind the wheel, your fingers wrapping instinctively around the gearshift.

it felt… eerie, how natural it still was. like your brother had only just stepped out and handed you the keys.

you took a deep breath, slid the key into the ignition, and turned.

click.

you tried again.

clickclickclick.

the engine didn’t even cough. just a cold, mechanical protest. you leaned back, eyes shut for a second, then looked out the window at jaehyun.

“you sure this thing didn’t die a final death already?”

“give her a break,” he called back, grinning. “she’s been asleep for a while.”

you exhaled through your nose and turned the key one last time, slower now. like the truck might respond better to gentleness.

click.

“she’s dead,” you said plainly, throwing the door open again and stepping out. “like, dead dead.”

jaehyun shrugged again, not the least bit surprised. “well, i told you it was in rough shape. figured you’d maybe wanna’ fix it up.”

you looked at the truck again. the rust, the chipped paint, the cracked windshield. you could still see the faint outline of the old bumper sticker your brother had slapped on the back when he was seventeen. it felt less like a machine and more like a time capsule.

“you’re not wrong,” you said finally, quietly. “she just needs a little time.”

“don’t we all,” jaehyun muttered. “i’ll help you get her running again. between the two of us, we’ll bring her back.”

you raised a brow. “since when do you know anything about cars?”

he snorted. “i don’t. but i’ve got tools. how hard can it be?”

you smiled, just faintly, and looked back at the truck.

“guess we’ll find out.”

‎ 

it was almost comical how wrong you both were. 

it started with confidence. jaehyun dragged out a dented toolbox from the back of the garage, wiping it down like it was some kind of sacred relic. 

“we’ve got this,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “it’s just a truck.”

you raised an eyebrow. “a truck that’s been sitting dead for over six years.”

“semantics.”

the hood fought you at every step. first it wouldn’t open, then it opened too quickly. it slammed upward with a metallic crack that nearly took jaehyun’s head off. 

“not a word,” he muttered when he saw your shocked face.

the engine bay was a horror show. rust, leaves, something suspiciously chewed up in one corner. a graveyard of neglect. still, you gave it a go. you held the flashlight while jaehyun peered inside like he was looking into the soul of an ancient beast.

“alright, battery first,” he said.

“do you even know how to jump a car?”

“doesn’t everyone?”

you didn’t. at least, not correctly.

jaehyun pulled his cruiser into the garage nose to nose with the truck, and uncoiled the jumper cables like a man with a plan. five minutes later, sparks flew. too many of them, at that. one of the clamps popped loose and landed on the floor with a metallic clink.

“that didn’t seem right,” you said, peeking around the door.

“we’re fine,” jaehyun answered, determined. 

you leaned against the garage wall, arms crossed. “we’re gonna blow this place up.”

“not tonight, please. i just cleaned.”

you tried the ignition once, then twice. the engine groaned, a long, sickly sound like it was trying to wake from a coma. it sputtered, choked, and fell silent again.

jaehyun cursed softly under his breath, then grabbed a wrench and slid under the truck with the kind of reckless optimism that only comes from someone who hadn’t read a single manual.

you knelt down beside him, flashlight in hand. “what are we even looking for?”

“something loose. or not connected. or… i don’t know. anything that doesn’t look like it should be there.”

“jae, i’ve never seen a working truck engine in my life. it all looks like it shouldn’t be there.”

somewhere between checking fuses and trying to siphon old fuel from the tank, you both lost track of time. the garage grew cold. the air turned heavy with grease and old dust. there was a slow, steady rhythm to your failures. try, fail, adjust. try again.

at one point, jaehyun smacked the steering wheel in frustration. “i swear this truck is cursed.”

the truck didn’t move. not an inch. the key turned and gave you nothing but sputters and silence.

but you didn’t mind.

it wasn’t about whether it ran. not tonight. tonight, it was about being in that space, shoulders brushing, laughter tucked between curses and exhaust fumes, and the quiet weight of memory that hung around the truck like fog.

“we’ll try again tomorrow,” jaehyun finally said, wiping his hands with a rag and slumping into a folding chair.

you stayed seated a moment longer, hand resting on the cold, dented frame of the driver’s door.

“yeah,” you said softly. “tomorrow.”

‎

only, perhaps ‘tomorrow’ wouldn’t come after all. 

you weren’t sure when exactly you passed out. one minute you were scrubbing black grime from your skin, the next you were under your covers, still in yesterday’s clothes, your pillow streaked with the faint scent of motor oil. maybe it was the weight of the day. maybe it was the ache in your shoulders from hours hunched over an engine that didn’t want to come back to life. maybe it was even the weight of your first day at forks high. but you were exhausted. your body begged for the relief of a good night's rest. 

only the bang that woke you, loud in its boom, cut through your sleep like a blade. you sat up, breath caught in your throat.

“jaehyun?” your voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

silence.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, every instinct prickling beneath your skin. your clothes were crumpled, stiff with the day’s sweat and oil. something felt off. you didn’t know what, only that the air was wrong. too still. the hallway light was on. dim, yellow, buzzing faintly. you followed it down the stairs.

“jae?” you called again.

this time, he answered. muffled and tense. “hey—shit, sorry. didn’t mean to wake you.”

he was in the dining room, crouched near the bench, one boot already on and the other half laced. his uniform was thrown on in a hurry, shirt wrinkled, badge skewed slightly to the left. he was moving with urgency. something you hadn’t seen from him in a long time.

then you saw the gun. it sat on the dining table beside his keys. holstered, loaded, polished.

your heart sank. “what’s going on?”

he sighed, running a hand over his face. “a call came through about an hour ago. something happened out in the woods, not far. a hiker found a body.”

you stared. “a body?”

“they said it was…” he hesitated. “it looked strange.”

“strange how?”

“i don’t know yet,” he said. “dispatch didn’t give much detail. i’m heading up with a few of the guys now. we’ll get it sorted.”

you stepped closer, arms crossed. “i’m coming with you.”

he looked up, eyebrows lifting. “like hell you are.”

“why not?”

“because it’s a crime scene, y/n. it’s not a field trip.” he grabbed his coat and shoved one arm through the sleeve. “i need you to stay here.”

“i’m not a kid.”

“you’re not trained for this either.”

you stared at each other for a moment. it wasn’t a fight. it wasn’t loud or emotional. but there was something stubborn in your eyes that he recognized too well.

he softened slightly. “look. i’ll be back before morning. just stay inside, alright? lock the door. don’t go wandering.”

you didn’t answer. he didn’t wait for one. you watched him slip out the front door and disappear into the darkness, cruiser engine rumbling to life outside. red and blue lights flashed once, then vanished down the road.

you stood there for a while, unmoving. and then, maybe twenty minutes later, you weren’t inside anymore.

you hadn’t even meant to leave. you told yourself you were just checking. just seeing where the road led. but somehow your boots crunched against a dirt path thick with fallen leaves and rain soaked pine needles. the forest smelled like cold sap and wet bark. you hadn’t realized how dark it was until the trees swallowed you whole, the moon flickering faintly through the canopy above.

now here you were. in the dark, in the cold, breath caught in your throat as the scene came into full view.

a few cruisers were parked in a messy half circle, headlights casting uneven beams over the forest floor. long flashlights cut through the trees like searchlights. you couldn’t make out much detail at first, just movement. police moving slow and deliberate. too quiet for a crime scene.

no one joked. no one talked. and that silence rang louder than any siren.

you were about to duck away, maybe circle around for a better vantage point, when everything changed.

a sound. something like a crack, a shift of air too fast to register. it ripped through the clearing. something blurred at the edge of your vision, faster than anything you’d ever seen move. it was tall. too tall, and lean in a way that was almost wrong. skin pale as the moonlight. eyes, if you could call them that, glowing faintly red for the briefest flash.

then it lunged straight at jaehyun.

he didn’t even see it coming. one second he was scanning the woods, the next he was thrown backward like a ragdoll, body skidding across the leaves with a brutal, sickening thud.

“jaehyun!” you yelled before you could stop yourself, feet moving without thinking.

the… thing, whatever it was, looked up. its sharp, angular face was stained with something dark. lips curled back in something that might have been a smile, or perhaps even a snarl. and just as fast as it had come, it froze. its head jerked to the side. 

a second later, a long, echoing howl cut through the forest from the far side of the ridge. not close. not here. but close enough.

the thing ran. it all happened so quickly, a streak of movement. gone in a blink.

you stumbled down the slope into the clearing, heart hammering in your chest. you didn’t stop until you were on your knees beside jaehyun, the man laying twisted on the ground, blood seeping through his shirt, arm clutching his ribs.

“jaehyun! hey—” you barely got the words out.

his eyes cracked open, brows furrowed in pain. “damn it, y/n… i told you…”

“yeah,” you whispered, “you did.”

“you okay?” his voice was faint.

“don’t worry about me. you’re bleeding, you idiot.”

behind you, flashlights bobbed. officers were shouting again, voices rising, some asking you what you were doing here, others calling for backup, for a medic, for anything.

you didn’t answer.

you looked down at jaehyun’s wound, hand pressing against his side, trying to stop the bleeding. your own hands were shaking, but your mind stayed level.

you knew what you saw. even if you didn’t have the words for it yet.

__

you couldn’t remember the last time you’d sat in a hospital. maybe it was when you were nine, trying not to cry while a nurse stitched up the gash above your knee, bloodied from the jagged edge of a beer bottle someone had carelessly tossed in the grass. maybe it was a few years later, when you were twelve and camped out in the corner of an emergency room waiting area, your legs numb from sitting too long while your brother’s broken arm was wrapped and casted after a bad fall.

it didn’t matter, not really. because no matter how much time had passed, or how much had changed, the hospital still felt the same.

the air still smelled faintly of bleach and something too clean to be natural. the lights were still too bright, humming above you in a low, steady drone that crawled under your skin. the chairs were still too stiff, and everything felt like it was waiting to go wrong.

you sat at jaehyun’s bedside, one leg folded underneath the other, your hoodie still dusty from the woods and stained with sap. he lay reclined, torso slightly elevated, breathing with that ragged hitch that came from bruised ribs. a tree branch had pierced him clean through the side, the attending nurse said. it narrowly missed anything vital. now, his abdomen was wrapped in thick gauze, layers of medical tape crisscrossing like patchwork over skin still raw and angry. his temple was bandaged too, though blood had already seeped into the edge of the white wrap, staining it a dull, wet red. his hair was matted with dried leaves and sweat.

but he was alive. he was okay.

“you look like shit,” you said quietly, voice barely above a murmur.

jaehyun cracked open one eye, his lips twitching in a half smile that winced into a grimace.

“thanks. real comforting.”

you didn’t laugh. neither did he.

there was a thin iv line running down from his arm, the bag above it slowly dripping clear liquid like the seconds ticking by.

outside the door, nurses moved quietly up and down the corridor, shoes squeaking against linoleum. distant voices filtered in from the front desk.

but inside the room, it was just the two of you.

you leaned back in the plastic chair, eyes drifting toward the heart monitor beside his bed. the soft blip of his pulse steadied you more than you cared to admit.

“you should’ve stayed home,” he murmured after a beat.

“you should’ve let me come with you,” you replied.

his head lolled slightly toward you. “i’m a cop, y/n. don’t be ridiculous.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “can you blame me? you’re the only thing i have left, jae.”

he didn’t say anything at first. not a nod, not a hum. just the quiet sound of his breathing, strained but steady. maybe he thought you were being dramatic. maybe he didn’t want to admit that he understood. 

but you weren’t just being dramatic.

the thought of losing the only person you had left made your stomach turn. it wasn’t just fear. it was dread. that cold, creeping kind that wrapped itself around your ribs and sat heavy on your chest.

in the silence, your thoughts began to slip again. racing, spiraling, trying to make sense of the night. it almost didn’t feel real. this morning you were starting your first day back at forks high. and now you were sitting in a hospital, watching blood pool under gauze, your body still vibrating from adrenaline.

when your mind finally circled back to the thing you saw in the woods, your mouth went dry. you looked down at your hands, then back at jaehyun.

“did you…” your voice came quiet, careful. “did you see anything out there?”

he was still for a long moment. then he exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward the ceiling.

“no,” he said, shaking his head once. “like i told the guys, I don’t remember much of anything.”

the second you got to the hospital, before they let you anywhere near his room, two officers pulled you aside for questioning. you hesitated. you could’ve said what you saw, could’ve told them about the blur, the red eyes, the flash of blackness in the trees. but the words never made it past your lips.

you said it was an animal. a coyote. maybe a fox. a lie, soft and simple, easy to understand. the truth sounded crazy. were you crazy? could you have just been tired? sleep deprived?

still, part of you wanted to say it now. if there was anyone in this town you could trust, it was jaehyun. 

just as you parted your lips, the door clicked open.

a man stepped inside. tall. pale. a stark contrast to the warm lighting of the hospital room. his presence quieted everything instantly. he was beautiful, objectively so.

sharp features, a clean jawline, skin smooth like porcelain. his hair was dark and neatly styled, not a strand out of place. his coat hung perfectly on his frame, white as fresh snow. a stethoscope looped loosely around his collar. in his hands was a clipboard, clutched lightly like it weighed nothing. but it was his eyes that caught you off guard. not blue. not brown. gold.

he smiled faintly as his eyes flicked between you and jaehyun. polite. professional. practiced.

“officer jeong,” he said in a voice as smooth as his appearance. “how are we feeling?”

jaehyun offered a weak, lopsided grin, wincing slightly. “like i lost a wrestling match to a tree.”

the doctor chuckled gently, the sound soft and perfectly timed. “well, considering the size of the branch that went through your side, that’s not far off.”

he stepped forward, flipping open the clipboard and giving the chart a brief glance, though it felt more like a formality than necessity.

“dr insung,” he added, extending a hand to you without looking up. “you must be his sister.”

you paused for just a second before shaking it. you recognized him immediately. your conversation with megan, lara and manon in the school cafeteria rang through your mind. his grip was cool, firm, and deliberate. not too tight, not too soft. calculated.

“uh… no. just a family friend,” you said quickly, not wanting to unpack everything in front of jaehyun’s attending physician.

“of course,” he said, glancing at you now with that same unreadable calm. “you were with him when the incident happened, correct?”

you nodded slowly. “yeah.”

his eyes stayed on you a beat longer than necessary, as if reading something behind your expression. and then he smiled again, this time softer. less clinical.

“you’ve had a long day. i imagine your nerves are still in overdrive,” he said, gently folding the clipboard closed. “it’s not uncommon for the brain to fill in gaps with…” he paused, as if searching for the right word. “spectacular things. especially in moments of panic. it’s a defense mechanism, in a way. it makes the fear easier to process.”

you blinked. your mouth stayed shut. you hadn’t said a thing about what you saw. not to him. not even to jaehyun. not one word. his voice. his posture. the way he somehow already knew what had been playing on a loop in your mind. it made your skin crawl, but not out of fear. not exactly.

he knew something, you could feel it. and maybe, just maybe, he knew that you knew too.

dr insung smiled again like he hadn’t just said something deeply unnerving. like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“fortunately,” he continued, “officer jeong is stable. he’ll need to stay a few days for observation, but there’s no internal bleeding. we’ll keep him comfortable.”

jaehyun muttered a low, “great,” and tried not to grimace as he shifted in the bed.

but you couldn’t look away from dr insung. even as he gave a final polite nod and turned to leave, even as his hand brushed the doorframe on his way out, your eyes followed him. it was the kind of lingering that wasn’t just instinct. it was compulsion. maybe it was because of how his gaze met yours just before he left, held for a second too long, like he was saying something wordless behind the curve of that careful smile. then he was gone. 

for a moment you simply sat there. you wanted so badly to follow him, to get answers, but the battered body of jaehyun beside you kept you rooted. 

a second passed, then another, before finally you pulled yourself together.

“i’m gonna head out for a sec,” you murmured after a short wait, standing from the chair beside jaehyun’s bed.

he didn’t question it, didn’t even lift his head. just let out a sleepy hum, the medication clearly pulling him under.

the halls outside the hospital room were quiet, soft lights buzzing overhead. your sneakers squeaked faintly on the vinyl floor as you walked with no real direction, only instinct. the need to know propelled you forward, and maybe you didn’t expect to actually find him, not really. but you did.you stopped short when you turned a corner. just ahead, tucked half in shadow, stood dr. insung. and he wasn’t alone.

sophia.

it hit you all at once, the sight of her. the sleek black coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders, dark curls spilling like ink over the collar. she stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, like she’d rather be anywhere else. her head tilted slightly toward insung as he spoke to her in a low, measured voice. but it wasn’t friendly, that much was clear.

your feet rooted to the floor, ears straining to catch a word. you couldn’t make out specifics. just tone, tension. the sharp edge in sophia’s voice when she interrupted him, the way insung kept his hands clasped neatly behind his back, posture unwavering.

and then, like gravity itself had shifted, sophia’s eyes flicked past insung’s shoulder, right to you. your breath caught. she saw you, the same way she had in the cafeteria. only now there was no crowd between you. no chatter. no noise to blur the moment. and god, she looked even more stunning up close. annoyed, sure. irritated, absolutely. but her eyes latched onto yours like they had every right to be there. your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t look away.

something passed between you then. an unspoken dare, like she knew you were eavesdropping, and part of her dared you to keep listening.

sophia’s eyes cut toward insung like a blade. whatever he said to her, you hadn’t caught it. just the low thrum of voices echoing in the narrow hospital hallway. but the tension was impossible to miss. she stood rigid, arms crossed over her chest, her expression drawn tight with irritation, possibly even contempt. insung, on the other hand, looked calm. too calm. his voice was gentle, almost musical, yet there was an unmistakable edge beneath it, like a warning wrapped in velvet. the soft cadence of his words wasn’t meant for you, but somehow you felt it was. like he’d spoken loud enough for a reason.

then he turned, sensing your presence before you’d even made a sound.

“ah,” he said, voice smooth. “miss y/l/n. i was hoping you’d find your way.”

you blinked. “you were?”

he smiled again. placid. practiced. unreadable. “only because it’s late. it’s easy to get lost in unfamiliar places. especially after a long night.”

your eyes flicked to sophia, whose jaw had gone rigid. she was staring at insung now with pure annoyance, like she’d just realized she was being maneuvered and hated it.

“you should get some rest,” he continued, then glanced at sophia. “would you mind taking her home?”

sophia didn’t answer right away. there was a pause, long enough for the tension to thrum again between them. her eyes narrowed, but then she nodded. once.

“fine,” she said quietly. clipped.

you didn’t miss the way her body went rigid when insung turned his back and walked off, white coat billowing behind him like smoke. sophia looked at you then. sharp, indifferent. the quiet, barely concealed frustration still buzzing beneath her skin. 

“let’s go.”

you followed.

‎ 

the silence in the car wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was suffocating. it pressed in from all sides, thick and deliberate, like it had been invited in and asked to stay. it had weight to it. you sat still in the passenger seat, the seatbelt stiff across your chest as the silver volvo cut cleanly through the empty roads of forks.

“you should put your seatbelt on.” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

sophia had long since pulled out of the hospital parking lot, her pretty face guarded so well you couldn’t even begin to decipher what she might have been thinking at that very moment. her car was spotless. every surface gleamed, even in the faint light of the dashboard. its leather seats looked like they’d never seen a touch of dust or grime, its padding soft beneath you. the interior smelled faintly of pine and something sharper, sterile almost, like the inside of a high end clinic. everything was in place. immaculate. like no one had ever really sat in it before.

for the briefest second, the faint hint of a smile tilted the corner of her lips. nothing that indicated happiness, but rather amusement. nonetheless, she swiftly listened to you. her hands moved deftly as she clipped her seatbelt into place. 

it was when her hand gently flew past yours over the middle console did you feel your body stiffen, however. your hand, once gently resting on your side, felt a breeze so cold you couldn’t help but recoil it back into your sleeve. her hand was freezing. a numbing, concerning kind of cold that had your eyes blowing wide, darting to stare at incredulously.

“you’re freezing!”

sophia didn’t say a word. her posture was perfect, hands relaxed on the wheel, eyes never straying from the road. even her blinker clicked with intention. no wasted movement, no sudden jerks. her presence filled the car more than the sound ever could have. composed. as cold as her hands. 

after a moment, she finally exhaled as if she’d just remembered she was supposed to breathe.

“it happens.” she explained lamely. 

it was short, but her voice made your heart skip a beat anyway. she sounded like honey, dripping slow and rich, but cooled at the edges. like something sweet pulled from the freezer, still beautiful but impossible to touch without flinching.

you watched her hands on the wheel. long fingers, smooth skin, knuckles pale from the cold. you weren’t imagining it. she was ice. not just chilly. not just cold from the air. it radiated off her, a kind of stillness that felt unnatural.

“you should keep gloves in the car,” you said softly, not sure why you said anything at all. maybe just to hear her speak again.

sophia gave a quiet huff, almost a laugh but not quite. “gloves don’t help.”

you furrowed your brow. “what do you mean?”

she didn’t answer. not right away. instead, she leaned into the next turn, the car curving smoothly along the road, headlights sweeping across the trees like searchlights. her eyes stayed ahead, focused, impossibly calm.

“some things just stay cold,” she said finally. “doesn’t matter what you wrap them in.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. something about the way she said it made your chest tighten, like the words meant more than they were letting on.

you turned your gaze back to the road. she hadn’t raised her voice once. hadn’t shifted her posture, hadn’t let anything slip. but still, you felt it. the weight of her. like gravity bending in the shape of a girl.

you could hear the tires crunch against gravel whenever the pavement broke apart. the hum of the engine was almost too quiet, as if the car wasn’t even really running. and yet it moved. you turned your head just slightly, studying her out of the corner of your eye. her face was calm, unreadable, the same one she’d worn at the hospital. beautiful in that effortless, almost cruel way. you half expected her to break the silence, to ask you something, to say anything.

then her eyes met yours suddenly.

they caught the light from the dashboard, shining bright gold. not hazel, not amber. gold. like melted metal. like sunlight through a bottle. it was the kind of color you’d never seen in a human eye before. unnatural, but not in a loud way. subtle. deliberate. like whoever had them wanted you to notice, but only if you were really looking.

you were.

it struck you as strange. jarring, even. not just because of how vivid the color was, but because you’d seen it before, not even ten minutes ago in jaehyun’s hospital room. 

dr insung. 

he’d looked at you with those same golden eyes, calm and clinical and just a little too knowing. and sophia, well, she was his daughter. adopted, manon said. yet here was this strange, gleaming sameness between them. something no paperwork could explain.

you looked back at her, really looked. the curve of her lashes. the way her irises seemed to glow faintly in the dark, almost reflective, like a cat’s. like they didn’t just catch the light, they absorbed it. held it. turned it into something else.

your stomach twisted, just slightly.

there was something in her stillness. something too perfect. too measured. she didn’t blink as much as people usually did. didn’t fidget. didn’t shift in her seat when the car hit a bump. her face was carved in calm, sharp and flawless like it had been painted on. no crease in her brow, no twitch at the corner of her mouth. just silence and gold eyes that didn’t give anything away.

you turned back toward the window, heart ticking a little faster. you didn’t know what it meant. maybe nothing. maybe everything. but the moment sank into your bones anyway, and you knew, without knowing why, that you wouldn’t be able to forget it.

the silence hung between you like a third passenger.

“you don’t have to drive me, you know,” you said, your voice low, just loud enough to be heard over the hush of the tires on wet asphalt.

sophia didn’t look at you. “i know.”

that was it. no explanation. no softening. you let out a breath, more tired than frustrated. the silence swallowed it whole.

the rest of the ride dragged in fragments. headlights cutting through mist, streetlights sliding past like fading ghosts. you watched the trees blur by, long fingers of pine stretching into the dark. every now and then, your eyes flicked toward her, searching for a crack in the calm. something to hold onto.

she never looked back.

“did i do something wrong..?” the words slipped out before you could catch them. quieter than you meant. almost fragile. like they’d been sitting just under your tongue for too long, waiting for the right kind of silence to crawl out of. your throat felt tight. you hated how soft you sounded.

sophia didn’t flinch. didn’t blink.

“what an absurd question,” she said, voice smooth and flat, like marble.

you let out a dry laugh, but it didn’t land right. “that’s exactly what i’m talking about. did i do something to piss you off? or are you just always this… stabby?”

still, no reaction. not even a glance. her eyes stayed locked on the road, unbothered, like she hadn’t heard you at all. but she had. you knew she had. she just chose not to answer. her silence made the air feel thicker. like the car was shrinking around you inch by inch.

you watched her jaw tighten, just barely. the only giveaway that she was even made of muscle and not glass. she looked so composed, so contained, like the question hadn’t scraped against anything inside her. like nothing could.

you didn’t realize you were already in jaehyun’s driveway until the car began to slow, the engine softening to a quiet hum before cutting out completely. the sudden stillness made your ears ring. headlights spilled across the front of the house, catching on the porch rail and the edge of the garage, painting everything in pale, artificial white.

you sighed and unbuckled your seatbelt, fingers stiff with the cold. “thanks for the ride, i guess.”

you hadn’t expected her to get out too. but the soft click of her door echoed behind you, and when you turned, she was already walking around the car. quiet, composed, as if this was something she did every day. like it was routine to escort someone to their door without speaking to them the entire drive.

you hesitated, watching her fall into step beside you. her boots barely made a sound on the driveway, movements precise, effortless. she didn’t look at you. didn’t offer an explanation. just walked.

it was strange, the way her presence lingered. like a shadow cast too long under the porch light. cold, yes, but steady. and for reasons you couldn’t explain, that steadiness made your chest ache a little.

you gave her a sidelong glance, trying to cover the sudden twist in your stomach with sarcasm. “how chivalrous.”

she didn’t smile. not even a twitch. but her eyes flicked toward you briefly, sharp and unreadable, before settling back on the path ahead.

as you reached the front door, your steps slowed, a sinking feeling already blooming in your chest. you reached for the knob out of habit, then stopped short, fingers hovering. right. no key. not yet.

you muttered a curse under your breath and turned away, embarrassed and already annoyed with yourself. “great,” you mumbled, making a beeline for the garage. “plan b.”

you crouched slightly and wrapped both hands around the bottom of the rolling door, gave it a solid tug. nothing. it groaned a little, but didn’t budge. you tried again, gritting your teeth. still nothing.

behind you, sophia sighed. it was quiet but unmistakable, the kind of sigh people gave when they were watching something mildly pathetic unfold. before you could snap at her, she stepped past you. no comment, no look. she just reached down, took hold of the edge of the garage door with one hand, and pulled. the metal creaked, shuddered, and then rose like it had been greased. she stopped halfway, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you blinked at her, stunned. “what are you, hulk hogan?”

she didn’t answer. didn’t even acknowledge the question. just let go of the door and turned to wait for you to go inside, like lifting a whole garage was a thing anyone could do on a monday night.

ducking under the door, you stepped into the garage and flipped on the light. the overhead bulb flickered weakly before settling into a steady glow, stretching long shadows across the cold concrete floor. the old blue truck sat parked, a familiar presence in the quiet space. you moved carefully around it, mindful not to catch the side mirror.

sophia stepped in behind you, silent as ever.

“you didn’t have to come in,” you said without turning, glancing back.

“i know,” she replied shortly.

sophia’s gaze immediately dropped to your truck. her eyes narrowed slightly, sharp and deliberate, like she was reading something hidden beneath the chipped paint and worn edges. then she hummed low, tilting her head as her eyes locked onto something odd.

“where’s your jack?” she asked, voice quiet but precise.

you frowned, running a hand over the truck’s side. “jack?”

“the tool. for changing tires. shouldn’t you have one?” her eyes flicked to the back corner of the garage, where tools usually lived. her tone wasn’t mocking. more like she was cataloging details, checking off what was missing.

you hesitated, then reached behind the tire and grabbed the worn metal handle of the jack. as you lifted it, your fingers brushed against hers for the second time. the cold hit you first, sharp and biting, like an ice shard pressed to your skin. a numbing chill crawled under your skin and made you instinctively pull your hand back, clutching it close to your chest.

if she noticed it, she didn’t care. she knelt and did something you’re not sure what. when she stood a few moments later, she hummed.  “wrench.”

you stupidly follow her instruction and hand over the wrench. sophia’s fingers close around it without hesitation, smooth and confident as if it were an extension of herself. she crouched by the tire, her movements precise and practiced despite the truck’s worn, tired frame. you watched her inspect the tire like she was reading a story etched into the cracked rubber and rusted rim.

after a long moment, she straightened and let out a low hum, eyes flicking back to you with a weight you couldn’t quite place.

“lug nuts are stripped,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “wouldn’t hold much longer. this truck’s not going anywhere like this.”

you shifted uneasily, suddenly aware of how beaten down the truck looked under her sharp gaze.

“it was sitting in a scrapyard,” you said quietly, your voice rougher than you expected. “needs more than a wrench, i guess.”

her eyes narrowed just slightly. “looks ancient. you could probably sell it for spare cash, if you wanted.”

you felt the weight of those words like a slap. you bristled, jaw tightening. “it’s priceless.”

“garbage,” she said, blunt and unflinching, like stating a fact no one wanted to admit.

“it was my brother’s.” your voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and raw. you swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening as the weight of the words settled over you.

for a long moment, sophia didn’t say anything. she just stood there, the jack and wrench forgotten on the cracked concrete floor at her feet. her gold eyes didn’t waver. instead, they scanned you slowly, cold and precise, as if trying to read something deeper beneath the surface. then she clicked her tongue against her cheek, a small, sharp sound that cut through the silence.

“he’s dead,” she deadplanned flatly. no softness, no sympathy in her voice. just a quiet, brutal fact, stated like it was the simplest thing in the world. as if saying it any other way would be a lie.

the words hit you harder than you expected, colder than the night air pressing in through the open garage door. and yet, in that moment, her detachment felt less like cruelty and more like a strange kind of understanding. the kind that comes from knowing pain without needing to dress it up.

the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, before sophia finally broke it. her voice was low, almost a murmur, but carried an unmistakable edge of command.

“why don’t i help you?”

you blink, caught off guard, unsure if you heard her right. “huh?”

her gaze didn’t waver, steady and unyielding, like a predator sizing you up. “don’t make me repeat myself.”

there was no invitation in her tone, no room for argument. it wasn’t a question. it was a statement. cold, deliberate, and somehow impossible to ignore. her honey eyes held something unreadable, something maddeningly calculated.

you swallowed. you knew something was wrong here. if the words lara, megan and manon told you at lunch meant anything, the girl standing before you now wasn’t offering to help you out of kindness. they just stick to themselves, the words rang through your mind like the echo of a broken radio. 

“no, i mean, i heard you. just... why?” you ask, confused.

her eyes lock onto yours, sharp and steady. serious, unreadable, like she’s weighing something far beyond your words. there’s no hint of warmth, no trace of explanation, just that quiet certainty that leaves no room for doubt.

after a long beat, she finally speaks, voice low and even. “i know a thing or two about cars.”

the words were plain, but the way she said them made your pulse skip. there was something coiled beneath them. something unreadable, like she wasn’t just talking about engines and bolts. it felt like an offer, a warning, and a promise all tangled into one. you stared at her, searching her face for anything soft. anything familiar. there was nothing.

“you don’t talk a lot, do you,” you said finally, voice almost light but not quite. more like testing the edge of something sharp.

sophia’s mouth pulled at the corners, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“maybe i just don’t have anything nice to say.”

she turned before you could come up with a response, dark hair catching the light as she moved. her footsteps were silent, unnervingly so, and for a second you wondered if you imagined the whole thing. if she’d ever been there at all.

but then, just before she crossed the threshold of the garage, she stopped. didn’t look back. didn’t shift.

“i’ll be back tomorrow,” she said. not a question. not a suggestion. just a statement of fact, carved into the air like stone. “don’t make me regret it.”

and then she was gone.

just like that. swallowed by the cold and the dark and the stillness outside. you stood there, alone in the garage, the jack and wrench still on the floor.

you didn’t know what just happened. you didn’t know what she wanted. but you knew one thing.

sophia laforteza wasn’t like anyone else in forks.

__

sophia had grown used to the noise. the way it clung to her like a second skin, thick and inescapable, pressing into her mind at all hours, without pause or mercy. every room she entered came alive with other people’s thoughts, overlapping and chaotic, a hundred separate voices folded into one unbearable hum. it was worse in crowded places, where the chatter grew louder, more intrusive, the boundaries between herself and others dissolving until she couldn’t tell where their wants ended and her exhaustion began.

she never knew peace. not the real kind, anyway. not the kind that came from being alone in your own head, untethered from the noise of the world. she would have given anything for it. a day, even an hour, where she could sit in a room and hear nothing but herself. there were nights she would run out into the forest surroundings forks and climb one of the tallest trees, just to obtain the illusion of quiet. but even then, the thoughts leaked through walls and floors and skin. they never stopped.

and then she saw you.

you were sitting with your friends, girls she briefly recognized from their banter and the way their thoughts would have her chuckling inadvertently whenever her mind would start to wander. your eyes swept the cafeteria slowly, almost warily, and in that moment, sophia felt it. not a thought. not even a flicker. just silence. pure and uninterrupted.

at first, she thought she’d missed something. a gap between words, a pause in a sentence. but when she focused, really focused, she heard nothing. no voice, no mental static, no vague emotional bleed. it was like staring at a wall where a window should be. like reaching for a sound that simply didn’t exist.

the silence unnerved her.

her brow twitched, just slightly, and for the first time in a very long time, sophia found herself uncertain. it wasn’t just that she couldn’t read you. it was that your mind didn’t even register in the way others did. it was as if something around you bent the noise, redirected it, left a void where there should have been something loud and obvious. everyone else in the cafeteria was an open book, pages fluttering in the wind. you were a locked journal with no title and no key.

the moment your gaze locked, something coiled tight in her stomach. she didn’t know what it was. not attraction, not exactly, but not indifference either. it was too precise, too sharp, too curious. the silence around you wasn’t peaceful like she had always imagined peace would be. it was the kind of quiet that made her ears ring, the kind that made her question whether it was silence at all or just something hidden too deep for her to reach.

it made her angry.

maybe it was irrational, but it didn’t matter. she’d lived decades surrounded by noise she never asked for, carrying the weight of every whisper and thought and cruel passing judgment. she endured it without question, never once allowed to forget how different she was from everyone else. and now here you were, some strange anomaly. a person she couldn’t hear, couldn’t predict, couldn’t reduce to a handful of errant thoughts. it made her feel off balance. it made her feel vulnerable.

she watched you the way a scientist watches a specimen under glass, searching for the catch, the flaw, the reason behind the impossible. she knew it was foolish to care. she knew she should look away and leave you alone, just another face in another forgettable crowd. but there was something about you that she couldn’t ignore, something that pulled at her in ways she had no name for.

in all the years since insung changed her, sophia had never experienced anything like this. she had never been able to separate her own mind from the minds of others, never known where she ended and everyone else began.

but when you looked at her, when your eyes met hers across the cafeteria… she felt, for a breathless moment, like she existed only within herself.

and for someone like sophia, that feeling was more dangerous than anything else in the world.

by the time she finally got back to the house she called ‘home’, it was pitch dark out.

the engine to her volvo barely cooled before the front door eased open, as if the house had been holding its breath. sophia stepped inside, her boots meeting the polished wood floor with a dull sound, muffled by the heavy quiet that always seemed to settle. outside, the forest stretched thick and endless in every direction, tall evergreens cloaking them in layers of green and shadow. the house sat hidden among them, tucked far beyond the beaten paths, where no uninvited eyes would ever wander. it was a place meant to be forgotten by the world. and it had been. the house itself was a contradiction. all open space and glass walls, as though it was made to be seen, and yet somehow it remained invisible, hidden by the wilderness around it. light from within spilled softly onto the wraparound deck, glowing pale against the moss covered stone steps. inside, the scent of cedar and worn leather books wrapped around her like a memory. old and grounding. a little too clean. a little too still.

she paused just past the threshold, shrugging off her jacket with slow fingers. every movement felt heavier than it should have. her eyes adjusted quickly to the low, golden light spilling from the tall fixtures in the living room. she didn’t need to look up to know she wasn’t alone.

daniela was perched on the arm of one of the long couches, arms folded, expression unreadable, a magazine discarded in her lap. yoonchae stood beside the tall windows, half shrouded in shadow, gaze fixed somewhere deep in the woods. they had been waiting.

sophia hated being expected.

the air between them was thick with silence, the kind that presses in, waiting to be broken. neither spoke for a long moment. then, finally, daniela’s voice cut through the stillness.

“well?” she said, her eyes sharp, watching sophia like she was waiting for a verdict. “did you scare her off?”

“she’s not scared. she doesn’t have a clue anything’s even going on.”

“not yet,” yoonchae chimed quietly.

“did she say anything?” daniela pressed, shifting on the armrest, eyes never leaving sophia.

“not about the woods,” sophia answered, voice low and steady. “not about what she saw.”

daniela hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her knee. “but she saw something.”

“of course she did,” yoonchae replied, her tone cold and sure. “the nomad didn’t cover his tracks.”

sophia said nothing. she knew exactly what yoonchae meant.

it wasn’t like she planned to venture far into port angeles that night all those days ago. when it came time to feed, sophia preferred to hunt quietly, keeping to the outskirts where the shadows thickened and the city’s pulse slowed. like her sisters and insung, she had relied on animal blood for as long as she could remember. an old habit, a careful discipline. it kept them hidden, kept the worst of the hunger at bay.

but that night, something had been different.

drawn by a scent, a subtle disturbance in the forest’s rhythm, sophia had followed a trail deeper than usual, further from the familiar edges of the woods. the moon was low, casting long silver fingers through the trees, painting the undergrowth in shades of gray and black.

she hadn’t expected to cross paths with anyone, let alone a nomad. a vampire who hunted recklessly, with no allegiance and no care for consequences.

it was an accident, pure and simple. a collision of fate and hunger that left her breath caught in her throat and her senses on high alert.

the nomad hadn’t tried to hide. no clever cover-ups, no careful retreat into the night. just careless, brutal presence. a reminder that the balance they all lived by was fragile, easily shattered.

sophia had slipped away before the worst could happen, but the encounter left its mark. the nomad saw her. looked her in the eyes, didn’t move to follow her as she darted back away further into the forests of forks until she was within safer hunting grounds.

she knew now the nomad was out there, roaming those woods, and the quiet edges of their world were anything but safe. 

a part of her couldn’t shake the guilt, especially since she’d just driven you home. you, whose guardian now lay in the hospital because of that very nomad. maybe he would have come to forks anyway, an inevitable pitstop on his path. or maybe, just maybe, he was following her.

that thought alone was enough to tighten the coil of unease deep inside her.

she moved past them toward the stairs, her steps measured but heavy. just as she reached the landing, daniela’s voice called after her.

“so… what’s she like?”

sophia paused, hand resting on the banister, but didn’t turn.  “quiet,” she said simply.

she didn’t need to elaborate for them to know what she meant. the reaction was immediate.

“you couldn’t hear her?” yoonchae asked, stepping away from the window, her posture straightening as if trying to read the air around them.

sophia glanced back over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “nothing. no whisper. no static. it’s like she’s… soundproofed.”

daniela and yoonchae exchanged a look. quick, almost imperceptible, but loaded with meaning. a silent conversation passed between them, a shared understanding only they could read.

“so what’s insung’s angle? now he’s hoping you’ll get close to her?” daniela’s tone was casual, but the sharp edge beneath it cut clear. “that’s new.”

“i’m not getting close to anyone,” sophia said firmly. “i did what he asked. she’s home. she hasn’t talked. that’s all that matters.”

“for now,” yoonchae said softly, the warning hanging in the air.

sophia looked at them both. her sisters, calm and collected in their practiced way. there was a rhythm to their family, a code written in silence and secrets. but this girl, you, were a disruption. an unknown factor that unsettled their carefully ordered world.

“he wants to talk to you,” daniela said, sliding down from the armrest to stand, her eyes narrowing slightly.

sophia didn’t say anything else. she didn’t need to. the house seemed to hum with his presence, a quiet tension threading through the air like electricity. insung was there, waiting, beyond the door at the very end of the long hallway, in the room farthest from the front entrance. he must have returned home not long after you and sophia left the hospital.

she knew he’d heard everything. he’d heard her the moment her volvo’s tires whispered over the gravel driveway, had felt her presence like a ripple through the stillness. but it wasn’t him who would make the first move. that was always sophia’s burden.

with a soft, resigned sigh, she stepped forward.

her boots left dark smudges on the polished wood floor, a trail of dampness she made no effort to wipe away. the quiet scrape of leather against wood echoed faintly as she crossed the threshold into the sanctuary of his office.

there was no knock, no hesitation. insung didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance at the door.

she found him standing by the vast wall of windows behind his desk, hands folded calmly behind his back. his gaze was fixed on the forest beyond, the same woods that hid more than just shadows. the room was bathed in the muted glow of twilight filtering through the trees, casting long, stretching shadows across dark wood.

insung’s presence filled the space, steady, controlled, impossible to ignore. sophia felt the weight of it settle around her like a cloak, heavy but familiar.

“did you take y/n home safe?” insung’s voice floated in from the far end of the open space, calm in the way that only made her jaw tighten.

“yeah,” she said. “tucked her in, kissed her forehead, checked under her bed for monsters. all clear.”

he didn’t turn around. “don’t deflect.”

“don’t patronize.”

that got his attention. insung turned to face her, expression unreadable but eyes sharper than usual. “i asked you to do one thing.”

“no,” she said, stepping closer, “you asked me to babysit a human girl i’ve never spoken to, after dropping vague orders in a hospital hallway like we were back in seoul during the raids.”

“sophia—”

“you should’ve gone yourself,” she snapped. “if she saw the nomad, if she’s a risk, then it’s your problem, not mine.”

“it is yours,” he said, quietly but firmly. “you’re the only one the nomad saw.”

she fell still, the silence between them stretching thin.

“you think he’ll come back,” she said after a moment, softer now.

“i know he will.” insung stepped away from the window, voice low. “he caught your scent. he’s a wanderer, but he’s still a predator. he’ll come back to finish what he started.”

sophia dragged a hand through her hair, pacing a slow, frustrated circle in the center of the room. “so we track him down and kill him before he gets close again. you’ve done it before.”

“not with a human witness. not one who looked a vampire in the face and lived to remember it.”

“she hasn’t told anyone,” sophia muttered. “yet.”

insung watched her carefully. “and?”

“she’s not dangerous.”

insung’s gaze hardened. “you don’t know that.”

sophia looked away, hands curling into fists at her sides. the silence returned, stretching long and thin between them.

“i don’t like being used,” she said finally, voice low.

“i didn’t use you,” insung frowned. “i trusted you.”

she let out a breath, slow and tired. “same thing, sometimes.”

he didn’t argue. outside, the wind stirred through the trees. the forest watched with quiet eyes.

“if the nomad comes back,” sophia said after a long moment, “i’ll handle it.”

“not alone.”

she gave him a look. “you gonna stop me?”

his silence was enough. sophia moved toward the door of the office, her steps soft but sharp as she turned to leave. she knew yoonchae and daniela were probably listening in from whatever room of the house they holed up in, but she didn’t care. 

she disappeared, letting her feet carry her soundlessly out of the room and up the stairs. her footsteps were already fading, swallowed by the house and the forest beyond.

through all of it, she couldn't shake you from her mind. 

__

you didn’t expect her to actually follow through with her words the next day. 

school was cancelled, a nasty downpour the night before having caved in part of the roof near the front entrance. the announcement came early, just after sunrise, and you stared at the email for a while before letting yourself sink back into bed. if you were being honest, you felt a little disappointed.

you’d have much rather been at school. instead, you were home alone. once upon a time, the idea of skipping a day would’ve thrilled you. now, the silence felt heavier than it should have, the loneliness creeping in just as sharply as the cold seeping through the windows.

you’d need to stomach this loneliness until friday. 

jaehyun was still in the hospital. being in his house without him felt strange, wrong in a way you couldn’t quite name. it made your stomach twist, filled your chest with a nervous kind of energy that wouldn’t settle. maybe it was the stillness, or maybe it was something else. something a little darker. a little more superstitious.

and now here you were, standing in the middle of his garage in front of the old blue truck, hands on your hips as you studied the open hood like it might offer answers. the engine stared back, silent and stubborn. the garage door was wide open behind you, letting in the cold. rain tapped softly against the concrete and gravel outside. the quiet wasn’t so empty out here. it felt almost like company. 

you leaned over the truck, stretching to reach a bolt that had slipped into the tangle of metal and wires. your fingers brushed it, but your footing gave way, sending you lurching forward. your face was only inches from striking a jagged piece of metal jutting out from the bumper.

only, you didn’t hit it.

a cold hand caught you around the waist, steadying you with a quiet firmness that made your breath catch. you were pulled back gently, just enough to stop the fall, and the sudden closeness had your heart stumbling in your chest.

you turned in her arms, eyes lifting instinctively, already wide with surprise.

no amount of words could ever do sophia laforteza justice, especially not now, with her standing so close you could feel the cool brush of her breath. her beauty wasn’t just striking, it was disarming. your gaze flicked helplessly between the soft curve of her glossy lips and the sharp, unreadable gleam in her golden eyes. you tried to stop yourself, but it was like your body had a will of its own. heat crept up your neck and settled in your cheeks, and suddenly it was hard to remember how to breath.

after a beat, sophia stepped back, her expression giving nothing away. she withdrew her hand from your waist like your touch had stung her, as if the warmth of your skin was something she couldn’t bear.

“you should be more careful,” she said, voice flat,  bored.

“rright,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.

sophia leaned over the open hood, her movements smooth and effortless. with barely a glance, she plucked the bolt from the engine with nimble fingers. she lingered for a moment, eyes scanning the mess of wires and metal, expression distant, thoughtful.

you couldn’t help watching her. the way the light hit her cheekbone. the quiet focus in her face. 

“what?”

her question made you jump, startled. 

“nothing,” you said quickly, shifting your weight onto the balls of your feet with a small, nervous hum. “i just didn’t think you’d actually come back.”

“i said i would.”

“sure, but… sometimes people say things just to be nice.”

sophia turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you over her shoulder.

“would you have preferred i didn’t?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the silence settled between you, quiet and telling.

sophia held your gaze for a second longer, then turned away without waiting for a reply. she moved around the truck with quiet purpose, her fingers brushing over wires and metal like she knew exactly what she was doing.

whatever she was doing, you didn’t understand it. not even a little. the parts might as well have been from a spaceship. still, there was something weirdly calming about watching her work. methodical, focused, silent. she didn’t fill the quiet with small talk, and somehow, that made her presence feel even louder.

“you said you know some things about cars?” you asked, half question and half statement, more to break the tension than anything else. 

she didn’t look up. “enough.”

you lingered by the passenger side, arms crossed loosely, watching as she tightened something with a firm click. the quiet stretched again, a little longer this time, and the more you stood there, the more her clipped replies started to grate.

“still as talkative as yesterday, i see.” you said, only half joking.

sophia didn’t look at you, but you saw her shoulders rise with a slow breath. she paused, tools resting in her hand.

“i just don’t waste words,” she said finally. “but if you’re asking…”

she straightened up and wiped her fingers on the side of her jeans, smearing a bit of grease across the fabric.

“i picked things up here and there. mostly from people i don’t see anymore.”

you caught the way her voice shifted at the end. not sad exactly, but distant. like the memories had teeth.

“they into cars?” you asked, a little softer now.

“one of them was,” she said, circling around to the driver’s side and popping the door open. “used to take things apart just to see if they could put them back together again. half the time they couldn’t. but i guess i paid more attention than i thought.”

you watched her settle into the seat, her fingers brushing over the steering wheel like she was remembering something she hadn’t planned to.

you waited a beat before speaking, not wanting to break whatever thread of memory was pulling her under. the rain kept falling outside, steady and low, tapping against the garage roof like a quiet reminder that the world was still moving.

“do you miss them?” you asked softly.

sophia’s hands stilled on the wheel. she glanced over at you, eyes sharper now, but there was something unreadable behind them.

“sometimes,” she said. “but not the people. just the parts of myself i lost with them.”

you weren’t sure how to respond, so you stayed quiet, letting the words hang between you.

after a moment, she pushed off from the seat and stood, stretching her arms above her head like she was shaking off more than just the cold.

“this truck’s going to be fine,” she said, her voice lighter now, almost like a promise. “you don’t have to worry.”

you nodded, feeling a little of the tight knot in your chest loosen.

“thanks,” you said, meaning it.

sophia gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to the engine, the tension in the garage easing like the rain outside slowing to a soft drizzle.

‎ 

you didn’t expect the rhythm that settled over the next few days. from tuesday through thursday, the routine stayed the same. sophia arrived early and left late. every moment you spent together felt like something rare and important, even if it was just small, quiet things.

bit by bit, you started to chip away at the walls she kept so tightly around herself. beneath the guarded surface, you caught glimpses of someone real. someone more than just the distant, untouchable girl you thought she was. the days blurred together in a quiet kind of montage. you weren’t much help when it came to the actual repairs, but sophia never seemed to mind. she did the work, sleeves pushed up, hair tied back, smudges of grease blooming across her hands and wrists like war paint. you stood nearby, passing her tools when she asked, learning the names by repetition.

“socket wrench,” she’d say without looking up.

you’d hesitate, glance at the cluttered tray, then hold something out. “this one?”

she’d take it, brush of fingers against yours, then nod. “close enough.”

sometimes she’d explain what she was doing, but only if you asked. 

“why are you tightening that again?”

“because the last person who touched this engine was clearly guessing.”

“was it you?“

she gave you a look, then cracked the faintest smile. or at least, the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen yet. 

other times, the silence between you was companionable. she’d hum under her breath while working, not quite a tune but something steady and soft. you found yourself watching her more than you probably should have, fascinated by how sure her hands were, how focused her expression stayed even when something wasn’t going right.

it didn’t matter that she barely spoke unless you asked her something directly, or that most of her answers came out in short, clipped phrases. it didn’t matter that she moved through each day like she was carrying secrets she’d never let anyone touch. none of it made a difference. if anything, it just made her more magnetic.

you tried to focus on the truck. really, you did. but your eyes kept betraying you. they’d drift back to her face without permission, tracing the slope of her jaw, the way her brows pinched slightly when she concentrated. but it was her lips that you kept coming back to, over and over again.

plump and glossy, like she’d just bitten down on them. they caught the light in the strangest ways, like they were made to be noticed. it was infuriating. you’d look away, pretend to be fiddling with a wrench or wiping grease off your hands, only to glance back and find her in some new angle of lighting that made her look even more ethereal.

and still, she never seemed to notice. she never caught you staring, never called you out. maybe she didn’t care. maybe she was used to it.

whatever the reason, it left you feeling off balance. flustered in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. and yet, you kept your head together. kept handing her tools. kept watching her lips move when she muttered to herself under her breath.

you were in trouble, and you were starting to think you liked it.

wednesday had slipped by in a quiet rhythm of rain and the steady clink of tools against metal. sophia moved through the work like it was second nature, replacing parts, changing oil, hotwiring with a precision that left you wordless. her focus never wavered, eyes narrowed at the mess of wires beneath the hood, grease smudged across her knuckles.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that she spoke, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

“tell me about you,” she said, eyes still on the engine, not even glancing your way.

you blinked, thrown for a second by the suddenness of it.

“what do you want to know?”

“whatever you want to tell me.”

you hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. her tone was light, almost careless, but you knew she was listening. you could feel her attention like a thread pulled tight between you.

“and what about you?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “do i get any kind of peek into your life if i give you a glimpse into mine?”

this time, she did look at you. just for a second. long enough to make it clear she was weighing your words. then she gave a small nod, like a quiet agreement.

it was all the invitation you needed.

“i don’t know where to start,” you admitted, your voice soft.

“what happened to your brother?” she asked not even a second later. 

you flinched. not at the question itself, but at how directly she asked it. it was clearly a question she’d wanted to ask since monday. 

“getting right to the point, huh?”

“i don’t see the point in dancing around anything,” she said, tone even.

you let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the floor. the memory still hurt, raw in places you hadn’t expected.

“i don’t really know, if i’m being honest,” you said finally. “he was at work one minute, and the next i got a call saying he passed in transit. no details. just that it happened suddenly. cardiac arrest, i think. i didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

sophia didn’t say anything at first. just looked at you, expression unreadable.

“you would’ve wanted to?” she asked eventually.

“i mean… yeah. wouldn’t you?”

she went quiet again, her gaze dropping slightly. then she bit the inside of her cheek like she was holding something back.

“i think sometimes,” she started, her voice quieter now, “saying nothing is easier than saying goodbye forever. there’s nothing quite like the pain of looking someone in the eye, knowing it’s the last time you ever will.”

you studied her for a long moment.

“you’ve lost a lot of people?” you asked.

she nodded once, barely noticeable.

“a few that mattered,” she said. then she turned back to the engine like the conversation hadn’t just cracked something open between you. but you knew it had. you felt it.

trying to unravel sophia laforteza still hurt your brain, but it no longer felt impossible.

something had shifted. slowly, she was letting you in. not all at once and not in any way that made sense, but it was there. in the quiet moments, in the spaces between her words, in the way she asked things like they mattered.

she had this habit of looking at you sideways when you went quiet, her voice soft but steady.

“what are you thinking about?”

she asked it often. sometimes in the middle of a conversation, sometimes out of nowhere. it was as if she needed to know, like understanding what went on in your head helped her understand the world a little better too.

she listened with every part of her. even when her hands were occupied, buried in the engine or fiddling with wires, you could feel her attention anchored to your words. she’d nod slightly, make small noises of acknowledgment, ask follow up questions that made it clear she remembered every detail you’d told her the day before.

and you found yourself telling her more.

you told her about the ache that had lived in your chest since your brother died. how some days, it felt like carrying around a stone. how other days, you just felt numb. you told her about your favorite childhood memory. about the first time you got your heart broken. about the way forks made you feel like a stranger, even in places you were starting to remember from when you were a child.

she listened. always.

sometimes, she gave you pieces of herself too. not full stories, but fragments. a name she used to call someone. a place she said she’d never go back to. a song she hated because it reminded her of something she couldn’t forget.

but it was on thursday that everything shifted. 

the morning started like the ones before it. the sky was a dull stretch of grey, the rain falling in that soft, misty way forks seemed to specialize in. sophia showed up just past eight, same as always, with her hoodie pulled up and her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. she didn’t say much when she walked into the garage, she rarely did, but you could feel the difference in the air. something quiet was building.

you handed her the wrench she asked for, then watched as she crouched near the open hood. she was focused, more than usual. no humming under her breath, no questions. just quiet, deliberate work. you stood beside her, arms crossed and heart thudding with anticipation you didn’t quite understand.

finally, around midafternoon, she wiped her hands off on a rag and stepped back.

“get in,” she said simply, nodding toward the driver’s seat.

“what?”

“just turn the key. i want to see something.”

you glanced at the truck, then back at her. she looked calm, but you could see the flicker of something behind her eyes. hope, maybe.

you slid into the seat and wrapped your fingers around the cold metal of the keys. took a breath. turned.

the engine sputtered. coughed. and then, with a rough, ragged growl, it came to life.

your eyes went wide.

“holy shit,” you breathed, half laughing, half stunned. “you did it. it’s running.”

“not road ready yet,” sophia shrugged. “but the engine’s holding. better than i thought it would.”

you stared at her, something catching in your throat. before you could stop yourself, before you could even think twice, you turned the engine back off and stepped out of the car. you launched forward and wrapped your arms around her before she could fully register what you were doing. 

she was freezing cold, as usual. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

it wasn’t graceful. her body tensed immediately in your arms, caught off guard, but you didn’t pull away. you didn’t want to.

“thank you,” you whispered, voice muffled against her shoulder. “seriously. thank you.”

for a second, you thought she might recoil, might tell you to back off. but then, slowly, you felt her exhale, something close to surrender. her arms came up around you, hesitant.

when you pulled back to look up at her, however, that’s when you saw it. staring up at her now, you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it sooner. 

the question slipped before you could stop it. 

“are you wearing contacts?”

sophia froze. it was so subtle that anyone else might’ve missed it. but you didn’t. not when she was standing so close to you, not when your arms moved from her shoulders down to your own sides. her posture went rigid, like someone had hit pause.

“what?”

you tilted your head, studying her more closely.

“your eyes,” you said slowly. “they’re… different today. they’re black.”

she didn’t blink. didn’t move. her face was unreadable, and for the first time since the hospital drive, the silence between you wasn’t comfortable. it was tight, almost suffocating.

“they were golden yesterday,” you added, your voice quieter now. “like, this really warm honey color. now they’re just… pitch black.”

she turned away from you, stepping back toward the truck. she reached for the rag she left on the trucks hood, busying herself with its flimsy fabric. 

“bad sleep,” she muttered. “happens sometimes. lighting’s weird in here anyway.”

but you knew it wasn’t the lighting. her answer, so clipped, so carefully neutral, only made the curiosity burn hotter.

“right,” you said, not quite believing her. “sure.”

she glanced back at you then, and her expression was tight. guarded.

“don’t read into things that aren’t there.”

you swallowed hard. something about her tone made a sharp pang shoot through you. it almost sounded like a warning. she was clearly trying to shut the conversation down. 

but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. no one’s eyes changed color like that. not from honey to ink overnight.

nonetheless, you nodded with a relenting shrug, pretending to let it go. if sophia noticed the hesitation in your silence, she didn’t say anything.

instead, she cleared her throat and turned back to face you. 

“anyway,” she said gently, like the last few minutes hadn’t happened, “think you could help me get the bumper back on the truck?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift. but maybe that was the point.

you followed her around the front end, where the dented bumper leaned awkwardly against the wheel well. you lifted your half of the metal sheeting carefully while she lifted the other, angling it upwards. but then you stopped. 

a sudden, sharp sting sliced through your hand. reflexively, you dropped your half with a sharp wince, your face tightening as pain flared. you’d grabbed the edge just wrong where a jagged corner pressed cruelly into your skin, cutting just deep enough that a thin line of blood welled up and began to drip. your free hand shot up instinctively, curling around the wounded one, fingers tightening into a protective grip as you pressed gently to stem the bleeding. the sting lingered, a sharp reminder that even small carelessness could leave its mark.

sophia stiffened, her eyes flickering to your hand.

“s-shit, sorry,” you muttered, biting back a grimace. “cut myself.”

you didn’t notice the shift in her, too absorbed in the sting and the sudden heat spreading through your palm, but it was there all the same.

sophia’s eyes stayed fixed on the thin ribbon of blood slowly welling from your hand. her breath caught, subtle but sharp, like the soft intake before a predator tenses to strike. except she didn’t move. she just watched, silent, her gaze unreadable but intense, like she was weighing something far beyond the simple cut. inside, sophia’s mind churned, a thousand quiet alarms flickering to life.

blood. the pulse of something alive, raw and undeniable. to her, it was a beacon in the dark. a soundless scream only creatures like her could hear. and you, standing there unaware, were bleeding right in front of her.

she fought the flicker of instinct that rose like a tide just beneath the surface. the hunger, the temptation, the ancient pull. it was the same rush she had felt countless times before, but this time it was tangled with something else, something unfamiliar and distracting. 

her eyes didn’t waver, but the weight behind them deepened. she was silent, still, but the room seemed to shrink around that bleeding hand. a tightness curled in her chest, a warning she barely understood herself. this wasn’t just a cut. it was a fracture in whatever fragile balance had brought you here.

then your voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the tension.

“… sophia?”

she blinked, caught off guard by the softness, the hesitance in your tone. for a fraction of a second, her mask cracked and you saw something flicker. something unreadable, raw. she swallowed hard, the moment stretching tight. 

then she turned away.

“i need to go.”

just like that, the fragile bubble shattered.

you watched her retreat from the garage, confusion tightening around your ribs. her figure slipped past the shadows, fading into the dim light beyond the open door. your gaze lingered on the empty space she’d left behind, questions hanging unsaid. by the time you blinked and reached for a clean rag, pressing it carefully over the cut on your hand, it was too late. you were a breath away from calling out to her, a “wait” hanging on the tip of your tongue. only when you turned, she was already gone.

no volvo in the driveway. no hum of an engine. just silence. and you, alone with the steady pulse in your palm and the louder, faster one in your chest.

but sophia knew.

her hands were clenched so tight around the steering wheel that the leather groaned beneath her grip. the moment the car peeled away from your street, the pressure in her chest exploded into something uncontainable. her foot slammed against the gas pedal, hard enough to make the tires threaten a screech. she hadn’t meant to look. hadn’t meant to breathe it in.

but god, it was everywhere. your blood in the air was static, sweet and warm and alive.

a curse left her under her breath, sharp and venom laced, because now she knew.

you were her bloodsinger.

the one scent that pierced every inch of restraint she’d built over a century. the one person whose blood called to her more than anything in the world.

and the one person she could never afford to be near again.

__

you barely slept.

your mind kept looping back to the moment in the garage, over and over, trying to stitch it together in a way that made sense. one second sophia was helping, quiet but present. the next, she looked at you like something broke inside her. like something changed. then she left, not just from the garage, but completely.

you took the bus to school the next morning, the scenery blurring past the window as your thoughts dragged behind. the email sent out by admin that morning had you lazily getting yourself ready, your hand throbbing faintly with every pulse, the bandage hidden in your sleeve. but it wasn’t the cut that bothered you. it was her.

by the time you made it to first period, it was obvious. sophia wasn’t there.

you tried not to care, you really did. but every empty chair you passed, every glance toward the hallway, every shift of footsteps behind you, it only made it worse.

worse still were the looks.

daniela sat near the windows during lunch, this time accompanied by a young korean girl. yoonchae, probably. they were quiet, unreadable. yoonchae toyed with a strand of her hair, eyes flicking up toward you now and then when she thought you weren’t looking. daniela barely touched her food. at one point, you thought you caught her whispering something, and though you couldn’t hear it, you felt it had to do with you.

you thought about asking them. hey, have you seen sophia?  but the words never made it out of your mouth. it felt like if you asked, you’d be confirming that something was wrong.

so you didn’t. not for the entire week that she was missing. 

a week. that’s how long it had been since you last saw her.

her absence stitched through the days like a thread you couldn’t pull loose, and it was starting to wear on you. you weren’t even sure why it bothered you so much. 

she’d been nothing but cold. polite when she had to be, distant when she didn’t. her words, when she used them, came clipped and careful, like she was always weighing what not to say. you couldn’t remember a single moment where she’d genuinely smiled at you. not really. not in the way that would make someone miss her this much.

maybe it was those strange moments that stuck with you. like the quiet hum you caught under her breath when she thought no one was listening. there’d been flickers of something softer beneath all that guarded silence, a flick of her gaze lingering a second too long, the way her fingers brushed yours when you handed over a wrench and she didn’t pull away right away. nothing obvious. nothing she’d ever admit to.

but enough to make you wonder.

maybe you’d just grown fond of the mystery. or maybe it was the way she made the world feel tilted sideways, like something was just out of reach but still waiting to be found.

either way, her absence was louder than it should’ve been. you were starting to hate how much space she’d taken up without even trying.

sure enough, your friends were starting to notice. 

they cornered you during lunch, plopping down at your usual table like they were staging an intervention. lara crossed her arms, staring you down.

“okay, spill. you’ve been moody all week. who took a shit in your cereal?”

you stabbed at your salad with the kind of intensity that probably answered her question before you even opened your mouth.

“it’s nothing.”

“please,” lara scoffed. “you’re more obvious than megan when she was sneaking out of classes to do crack in the bathrooms.”

megan gasped. “i have never done crack!”

“relax, mei. i just like spreading misinformation. we all know you were skipping classes to meet with—”

“okay, okay,” megan cut in fast, waving her hands. “let’s not talk about him, yeah? god, i’d rather you accused me of doing cocaine. thinking about him gives me chills.”

“so.” manon leaned in, eyes curious, her chin propped on her hand. “what’s going on?”

you hesitated, picking at a thread on your sleeve. it was stupid. it felt stupid. but your chest was heavy with it.

“well… i’ve been getting help from someone with repairing my brother’s car. but she’s been a no show all week. i think i might’ve done something to scare her away.”

lara raised a brow. “who?”

you sighed. “…sophia.”

lara blinked. “you’re shitting me.”

“no,” you said quickly, wincing. “i’m being serious. please don’t make it a big deal, i don’t know if i can deal with another headache.”

lara snorted. “what did you do? did you overshare one too many traumatic secrets?”

“did you call her by another girl’s name?” manon added with a smirk.

megan grinned, eyes sparkling. “maybe she’s just hiding from you because her big, bad, icey heart doesn’t know how to handle you.”

“yeah,” manon chimed, leaning dramatically across the table. “i bet she wants nothing more than to just pinch your cheeks and smooch you all over.”

they all puckered their lips obnoxiously, making exaggerated kissing sounds as they leaned toward you in unison.

you groaned. “i hate you guys.”

“hate us later. right now,” lara said, hopping to her feet, “walk with us, talk with us.”

“we are sitting,” manon deadpanned.

lara waved her off. “semantics.” then, back to you, “why do you think she’s been dodging school because of you?”

“i don’t know,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i guess i’m just thinking too hard into it.”

“honestly, you probably are,” manon said, chewing her straw. “it’s kind of their thing, too. they usually disappear for periods of time. all of them. something about vacationing in olympia. especially when the sun comes out.”

the sun..? interesting, you thought. 

“i heard dr. insung has a home in the mountains,” megan offered casually.

lara raised a brow at her. “yeah, i’m sure you’ve also heard his blood type, date of birth, and entire bloodline spanning the last fourteen generations.”

megan didn’t even blink. “hey, i’m a simple girl.”

“yeah. a simple freak of one,” 

they launched into another round of bickering, tossing harmless insults across the table with practiced ease.

but their voices faded under the buzz in your head. you stared past them, absently scratching at the bandage beneath your sleeve.

sophia’s face flickered in your memory. how still she’d gone, how strange her eyes had looked. the way she left like the air had suddenly gone toxic.

you laughed along with your friends when the moment called for it. but still, something didn’t sit right. something was off.

you just didn’t know what.

‎ 

you hadn’t meant to dig. not at first. it just… happened.

you were lying awake last night, the events of that friday catching up to you. megan, lara and manon’s bickering still rang through your mind. somewhere between trying to fall asleep and tossing in your sheets for the third time, your thoughts had drifted, again, to the glossy lipped filipina who had been haunting the edges of your mind since the day you met her. and with her came everything else. the strange comments, the too quiet silences, the weight in her gaze that made you feel like she saw something in you you couldn’t name.

you were staring up at your ceiling when it hit you. 

no matter how many times you told yourself to drop it, your curiosity kept clawing its way back. something about sophia didn’t add up. and you were tired of pretending you didn’t want to know why.

how cold her hand had been when you passed her the car jack. how cold they’d been when they brushed over yours in the mid console of her volvo. 

the way her eyes were a shade of gold one day, and pitch black the next. 

the way she seemed to go long periods of time in your garage without even breathing, her shoulders stiff and her body unmoving. now that you thought about it, had you ever even seen her eat?

the way she opened up the garage door the night she drove you home from the hospital as if it was nothing, one arm and all. 

you sat at your desk and turned on the old box computer, a hand-me-down jaehyun gave you for your studies. 

cold skin, sudden strength, weird eyes. cold hands, no breathing, what does it mean. gold eyes then black eyes. 

you typed whatever came to mind. yahoo offered you vague medical articles, some half baked conspiracy threads. you kept searching anyway.

you didn’t want to jump to conclusions. and yet, you found yourself down rabbit holes, clicking links you probably shouldn’t.

low and behold, here you were now. you weren’t entirely sure what compelled you to take a bus out to port angeles on saturday. but somehow, without really thinking it through, you ended up standing in front of a bookstore tucked into a dimmer stretch of the street, the kind of place easy to overlook if you didn’t know to look.

you glanced down at the crumpled sheet of paper in your hand, the ink smudged in places from how many times you’d folded and unfolded it. you’d scrawled it out late last night in a restless haze of clicking links and half formed questions that you couldn’t seem to let go of.

you walked into the book store, a wealthy resource of information into the ‘supernatural and occult’. you almost scoffed a laugh at the absurdity of it all, but thought against it when the bell jingled and the man at the front desk smiled widely. 

you had to have looked through at least seven books before one finally caught your interest. a blue book with an image of a tribal figure on its front, an intricate pattern on its back. when you flipped it open to the index page, you read the title under your breath. quileute tribe legends. 

it was exactly what you were looking for. a book title you’d seen mentioned time and time again over the various articles you read, a common factor to all the chaos. 

by the time you made it back home, it was half past nine. as soon as you sat at your desk, you started reading. back and forth between the book and more yahoo’ing, somehow you came out with more questions than you had answers. 

half the pages made you feel ridiculous. stories about creatures that drank blood and never aged. tales of people who could break bones like twigs and vanish into trees. mentions of werewolves and treaties, and ancient blood pacts. 

you almost dismissed it all. almost. 

the memory of the figure in the woods that attacked jaehyun rooted itself in the center of your mind before you could stop it. fast, red eyed, crimson coated mouth. hell, even the sound of the howl in the distance before it took off into a sprint too fast for your eyes to see. 

you’d never felt sicker. 

you hadn’t slept a wink since saturday night. not even for a moment. your brain wouldn’t shut off. it kept circling back to everything you’d read that night. folklore, eyewitness accounts, medical anomalies that didn’t line up. things that sounded like fiction until you thought about her. about the eyes. about the silence. about the way she disappeared like a ghost just when you started to notice too much.

whatever feelings you had, however, would need to go on hold. at least for now. 

at some point sunday night, jaehyun came home. 

he moved slower than usual, still wobbling from whatever had happened in the woods. his steps were uneven, and every now and then, he’d wince like a sharp ache had settled somewhere deep beneath his skin. still, his coy smile never once strayed. 

“you look like i feel. shitty.” jaehyun grinned the moment you walked downstairs, the two of you already falling back into the comfortable rhythm you found before he was hospitalized. 

you didn’t go to school that day. the entire day was spent back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, making sure jaehyun had everything he needed. he tried to shoo you off, but of course you didn’t listen. 

there was a pause, then you nodded in the direction of the dingy garage. “i’ve been working on the truck.”

it was a lame excuse, but anything was better than giving him the truth. the last thing you wanted was to sit down and ramble like a nutjob, to have him commit you over something you weren’t even a hundred-percent sure was real. 

jaehyun’s eyes lit up a little. “yeah? how’s it looking?”

“engine’s good. she’s still busted, but i think we’re getting there.”

his eyebrows raised, half teasing, half knowing. “we…?”

you froze. he wiggled his shoulders, cooing. he continued after a quick second. 

“who exactly has been keeping you company while i’ve been away? when do i get to meet them? oh, i can see it already. a little wedding down by la push. me and the truck will be sitting side by side in the aisles-“

you cut him off with a loud groan, covering your ears with both hands as you stood to your feet. you ignored his dry, croaky laughter and beelined for the garage. 

“this is my queue to get out of here. have fun dying.” you didn’t give him time to respond before you were already gone, practically locking yourself in the garage. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the silence took over once more. you welcomed it. your eyes were practically glued to the floor as you stepped around the blue truck, your thoughts running rampant in your mind. 

only, your head snapped up immediately when you heard the faint inhale of breath by the rolling door, already open and letting in the numbing cold. 

sophia. 

you froze. you knew enough now to be nervous, or at least you thought you did. maybe you should’ve even been scared.but then there she was. leaning against the garage wall like she hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth for a week, like the cold didn’t touch her, like she hadn’t been haunting your every thought since she left. her eyes flicked up the moment yours did.

you didn’t know what you were expecting. bloodstained lips? glowing eyes? a cruel smile that said you figured it out, now what?

what you got was worse. she was still so numbingly, breathtakingly beautiful. you didn’t say anything at first. you found your voice a moment later, your throat suddenly dry.

“where’ve you been?”

she looked at you intently, an unreadable expression embedded across her face. “around.”

you took a step closer. the words came out quiet, but they still filled the space between you.

“why now? why show up today?”

she shrugged, like it was nothing. like the answer should have been obvious. “you weren’t at school.”

you blinked. “you’re suddenly going again?”

“i was away. olympia. some family issues.” she said it smoothly, almost rehearsed.

“i don’t believe you.”

she didn’t argue. she didn’t even flinch. just let the silence settle again, the way she always did when she didn’t want to lie but didn’t want to tell the truth either. 

maybe it was the way she looked at you, still and unreadable, or maybe it was just the past week of silence finally cracking something inside you, but the next words came before you could stop them. they just slipped out.

“you’re cold. you’re strong. your eyes are gold again. you don’t eat. you’re gorgeous.”

the last one barely came out. but it was true. painfully so.

she didn’t react at first. just stood there, her face perfectly calm. but her eyes told a different story. they looked tired. not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but the kind that came from running too long and finally hitting a wall. it was like she had been waiting for this. like she had seen it coming, but still hoped it wouldn’t.

you stepped forward again. your chest felt tight.

“i know what you are.”

that was when she moved. barely. just tilted her head and pushed off the wall with a quiet motion. she stayed where she was, though. the space between you remained, but it felt different now. charged.

“say it.”

you looked at her for a long moment. the cold bit at your skin, but you didn’t feel it. not really. your voice was quiet, steady. 

“you’re not human.”

she didn’t deny it. didn’t flinch. just looked at you like she’d been waiting a long time for you to finally understand.

“are you scared?”

the question hit you harder than it should have. 

were you?

 you read things you never thought you’d take seriously. stories. warnings. blood and immortality and creatures hiding behind beautiful faces. and sophia had every reason to terrify you. but she didn’t. you looked at her. really looked. her jaw was set like she was bracing for something. maybe rejection. maybe fear. maybe worse. and still, your answer came without hesitation.

“no.”

your voice shook, but the truth didn’t. you weren’t scared. not of her.

maybe there was something wrong with you. maybe you should’ve walked away and avoided the conversation all together, kicked her out of your garage and not looked back. but you didn’t. 

sophia looked back at you, her glossy lips parted as if she was surprised by your answer. but, your answer was all she needed. 

one moment she was standing still, and the next she was gone.

your eyes barely had time to register it. one blink and the space where she had been was empty, your brain scrambling to catch up. she moved so fast it almost hurt to look, like your vision couldn’t process what was happening in real time. you had only just started to turn your head when you felt her hands on you.

then everything blurred.

you didn’t even have the chance to speak before she scooped you up and swung you effortlessly onto her back. it was like your body stopped belonging to you, caught in the middle of something bigger and faster than it could understand.

she was running.

trees whipped past in streaks of green and brown, the cold air slashing across your face and stinging your eyes. you couldn’t catch your breath. not from fear, but from the sheer velocity. the wind roared in your ears. your stomach turned, your arms tightened around her shoulders, and for a second you thought you might throw up.

the ground beneath you was a blur, and the woods behind your house became a dizzying mess of movement and shadows.

your heart slammed against your ribs like it was trying to escape. your fingers dug into the fabric of her hoodie, holding on for dear life, the speed making your head spin and your thoughts scatter. you were lightheaded, unmoored, overwhelmed.

and still, she didn’t slow down.

she moved like nothing could stop her. like gravity didn’t matter. like she had done this a thousand times and would never get tired.

when she finally stopped, it was so sudden you didn’t realize it at first. one second the world was racing past you in a smear of color and cold air, the next it all just… ended. the silence hit you like a wall. your stomach lurched as your surroundings settled back into focus, the forest around you no longer a blur but still and quiet, dusted with frost and shadows.

she lowered you gently, her grip careful, like she was afraid you might break now that everything had gone still. your legs nearly gave out beneath you when your feet touched the ground, and for a moment all you could do was stand there, bracing yourself against the nearest tree, your lungs trying to remember how to breathe.

when you looked up, she was already facing you.

her expression wasn’t cold. it wasn’t empty. it was something worse.

somber. hesitant. like she was preparing herself for something she didn’t want to hear. like she thought this moment would change everything, and maybe she was right.

her eyes searched yours for something. understanding, maybe. forgiveness. you couldn’t tell.

the wind tugged at her hair as she stood there, perfectly still except for the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides. she looked like she wanted to speak, but didn’t know how. for the first time, you saw the smallest crack in the armor she always wore. something fragile and human flickering beneath everything else.

she looked at you like she was waiting for you to run. only you didn’t. 

when she finally spoke, her voice was careful, like each word had to pass through a gate she wasn’t sure she should open.

“i wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

you crossed your arms, more to anchor yourself than anything. “then why did you?”

she hesitated. not out of fear, exactly. more like conflict. like something inside her was tearing in two.

“because you already knew,” she said softly. “not everything, but enough.”

she wasn’t wrong. and still, hearing her say it made your throat tighten.

her gaze dropped then. “i’ve been trying to stay away. i thought it would help. i thought if i stayed gone long enough, it would fade.”

you tilted your head. “what would?”

sophia looked up, and something flickered across her face. raw and unguarded.

“you.”

the silence after that was heavy. you didn’t know what to say. didn’t even know how to feel. her voice had been almost a whisper, but it landed like a weight in your chest.

“you don’t even know me,” you said, not accusing, just confused.

“i know enough,” she said. then she looked away again, like the truth tasted bitter. “i knew the second i smelled your blood.”

your stomach dropped. she must have seen it on your face, because she quickly held up a hand.

“i’m not going to hurt you.”

you wanted to believe her. god, you did. you swallowed. “is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“it’s why i haven’t let myself get closer,” she said. “it’s why i left.”

you took a small step toward her. not enough to close the space, just enough to make her look at you again. you stared at her, and for the first time, you understood why she had been so cold. why she disappeared. why she kept herself at a distance even when her eyes said something else entirely.

“then why bring me here?”

she didn’t answer right away. when she did, you felt your chest ache. 

“because i couldn’t stay away any longer.”

you opened your mouth, then closed it again. nothing felt right. there were too many questions tangled behind your ribs, all of them fighting to be first. so you settled for the one that had been sitting heavy in your chest since the second she reappeared.

“what happens now?”

sophia’s expression shifted. not softer exactly, but quieter. like the edge she always carried had dulled just a little.

“that depends,” she said.

“on what?”

“on whether you want to know the truth,” she murmured. “all of it.”

you watched her carefully. the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers curled slightly against her coat like she was bracing for impact. like part of her was still waiting for you to run.

“i already know enough to be scared,” you admitted. “but i’m still here.”

something flickered in her eyes at that. not surprise. not relief. something else. something deeper.

“then come with me.”

you blinked. “where?”

she didn’t answer. she simply turned on her heel, expecting you to follow. you did. whatever the truth was, you knew it had teeth. but something deep in your still-beating heart knew sophia wouldn't let it bite you. 

not if she could help it, at least.

part one

[wuhluhsuh]

𓇼𓈒　˙ Island In The Sun ࿐ ࿔*:･

@lucidve

[wuhluhsuh]

loveeee

guys… i’m not ok… i’m losing my sanity…

[wuhluhsuh]

unusual suspects - l.hc.

summary : you were dragged here... you were never supposed to be here. wrong. he was dragged here... he was never supposed to be here. wrong.

pairing : college lee haechan x college fem! reader

taglist (OPEN) comment to be tagged :

playlist : party 4 u - charlixcx | look - got7 | back to friends - sombr | everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears | completely - jaehyun | loser - mark | see u tonight - kylie cantrell | 3 am - rosé | sober - selena gomez | dangerous - hailee steinfield | drive it like you stole it - jackson wang

chapters

- PREVIEW OF CHAPTER ONE

[wuhluhsuh]

unusual suspects - l.hc

summary : you were dragged here... you were never supposed to be here. wrong. he was dragged here... he was never supposed to be here. wrong.

pairing : college lee haechan x college fem! reader

masterlist -

taglist (OPEN) comment to be added:

playlist : party 4 u - charlixcx | look - got7 | back to friends - sombr | everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears | completely - jaehyun | loser - mark | see u tonight - kylie cantrell | 3 am - rosé | sober - selena gomez | dangerous - hailee steinfield | drive it like you stole it - jackson wang

PREVIEW of THE FIRST CHAPTER

11:36 pm : warm beer and ashy cigarettes

It's the last thing you wanted. Lights dancing across your blurry vision in beams of purple, green, and blue. The bass of a busted speaker, with vibrations so hard the liquid in your cup spilled over the edge with each rhythm.

This place was the least your scene a place could ever be.

Yet you were here. The night after taking your final midterm of the semester in a room somehow sweltering in the midst of a record cold December.

Finally coming to terms with your current situation your friend came into a dissipated view. His hair was wild, his eyeliner smeared, and his hand was desperately gripping onto a bottle of alcohol. A woman was pushing her hand up his shirt and revealing his small but lean frame. His leopard print boxers peaked out of his baggy black jeans now that woman was pushing up his shirt.

You rolled your eyes, what a slut...

His antics may have drove you into insanity on occasion, but the man before you, Yuta Nakamoto, was one of your saving graces at this forsaken university.

Other than a passionfruit flavored pod and Dostoevsky novel.

Yuta met your gaze and pointed down at the woman whose hands roamed his body and displayed a smug grin. You flipped the man off with your freshly manicured middle finger and began to push through the crowd to the outside.

Nobody was outside, and honestly you couldn't be more appreciative. You knew it was because of the temperature that directly juxtaposed the lack of clothing of everyone inside, but you didn't mind it yourself as you were dressed appropriately for the weather. A fleece lined black leather jacket, a pair of warm stockings, a jean skirt, and black long sleeve... not to mention a pair of combat boots.

You pulled out your vape and phone from your pocket and were soberer by the chill in the air.

Honestly, you could leave. Nobody in there cared about you except Yuta, and maybe a few slime balls that we're eyeing your chest and legs. You didn't even know why Yuta thought you should come, you both knew that this is where you would end up not even 30 minutes into the evening.

Alcohol that was probably a chemical weapon, a stench so strong that it couldn't be replicated anywhere other than a college house party, and the horniest people in the world... sounds like a great time doesn't it?

"Fuck." You heard a mellow voice from behind you. You pushed out the puff you had been holding and turned your head. Behind you stood a man who was holding a jacket similar to yours and breathing heavily.

After a few seconds of catching his breath he looked down to spot you sitting on the first step. You raised your eyebrows at the man in mind concern.

You realized he was drenched and his honey brown locs were dripping down to form a puddle on the wooden porch. He was wearing a white T-shirt and leather pants, and every piece of his attire was also soaked.

"Sorry." The stranger perked up.

"No don't be, you're clearly in a worse way than me." You clenched your jaw knowing not everyone got your poorly timed jokes.

He let out a huff that could possibly be resemble a laugh or a scoff, of which you couldn't distinguish at the moment.

"Yeah, depends on how you perceive it probably. But, a random woman pouring a water bottle on your head because some ugly motherfucker dared her to at a party you didn't even want to go to, that might beat it." He let out a breathy laugh after he rapidly pushed out those words.

"Hm, that's quite an unfortunate circumstance you've found yourself in there..." You awkwardly smiled at the stranger. "You're definitely stealing the sucky night award from me though, considering I'm at least dry."

The man stood up straighter and gathered the hem of his shirt, wringing it out. "I'd have to agree." He laughed and pointed to the spot beside you to ask to sit on the step next to you.

You nodded as a response and he sat. He pulled out the items in his pocket and threw them on the ground. A leather wallet, his phone with no case, a small purple vape, and a hair tie. Running a hand through his hair, you were able to really take in the stranger's face.

His skin was warm like honey and was illuminated by the cold December moon. Skin peppered with brown moles, the slightest bit of stubble on his jaw indicated a few days without shaving, his wide but calm mocha eyes, and his naturally rosy cheeks were among the things you noticed.

The chilly wind ran over your skin and caused the presence of goosebumps upon your skin, which shifted your attention from the stranger.

"How about you?" He spoke up after a few silent passing moments, "Why aren't you in there?" He flicked his hair away from his face and turned his body towards you, leaning back on the banister that lined both sides of the steps.

"Um, well." Your words got caught for a moment as you noticed his suddenly relaxed posture. Looking down you started, "I'm not a party girl. My friend dragged me here, a place I'd rather burn than have to prolonge for its entire duration."

Silence. You finally looked up at the stranger. "Hm." Was all he let out. "I like the way you talk."

Confused, you moved your head slightly back. "The way I talk?"

He nodded, "Yeah. It's somehow eloquent yet infused with a blunt simplicity I don't often come across. It's refreshing I suppose." He shrugged.

"I can't say that I've been told that before." It was true. Something as simple as the way you talked had never been noticed by those around you, at least not enough for them to speak up about it. Yet, the drenched honey skinned boy in front of you who smelled of cigarette ash was able to clock it immediately.

He leaned forward and just looked at you. No words came out of his mouth for a while he just observed. His elbow rested on his knee and the other loose on his outstretched leg. "Seems we have a similar story of being here. I too was dragged here by a friend who knew damn well I'd be suffering as soon as I stepped into this damn house." He ran his hand across his face.

"Seems like our friends are shitty." You half meant.

"Sounds like it." He nodded. "We happen to be the unusual suspects at these type of places." Silence grew after the two of you exchanged a laugh.

You broke the pause, "Well, I have an idea." You stood and hopped down the last couple steps. "There is a Waffle House just down the road that I happen to frequent and I don't know about you but shoving my face with a sugary waffle sounds better than a warm beer."

The man immediately rose and smiled. He picked up his belongings off the ground and fanned his slightly dried shirt. "Lead the way, miss."

PREVIEW END...

[wuhluhsuh]

recs ᯓ★

nct

red velvet

i-dle

blackpink

enhypen

got7

&team

aespa

exo

itzy

ᯓ★ filming (ryujin x reader) - mayahawkesfirstwife

katseye

ᯓ★i can feel death, see its beady eyes | sophia laforteza - rosachae

ᯓ★save a horse, ride a cowgirl | sophia laforteza -neoplatinum

[wuhluhsuh]

masterlist ᯓ★

NCT

unusual suspects (series) - lee haechan

* ongoing

- you were dragged here... you were never supposed to be here. wrong. he was dragged here... he was never supposed to be here. wrong.

- college au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers