lol this escalated quickly

Rena | Alex

Intriguing. In all honesty, intriguing. That one word kept spinning through her head, making her inwardly giddy. She couldn’t help the closed-mouthed smile that appeared on her face. She met his stormy eyes briefly, if only to verify that he was being genuine when he said that. Once again, or perhaps at this point it was simply as usual, they were playing games with their eyes. Seeing how close they could get to staring into the other’s soul without taking the leap, dancing with fate and with chance and with the notion that once they locked eyes they wouldn’t be able to control whatever happened next. Her eyes fell to the desk.

“Intriguing is high praise coming from someone with your personality type,” she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, watching the ends of it splay out atop her side of the desk. Her gaze fell to her hand, then his. They were so close together, just a few more inches and they’d be touching. She didn’t like the idea of that, though. Skin-on-skin contact had always made her feel gross in the strangest way. Now that her emotions were fully back and she felt everything on sensory overload as she once had, she felt those negative emotions too. Uncomfortability, anxiousness, heightened senses in general, it was all beginning to hit her, mixing in with feelings of attachment, attraction, and a desire for far more than this. “I like when you’re honest.” She hesitated, thinking about whether she was ready to reveal anything to him. She wasn’t, so she stayed quiet.

“Where do I think you grew up? Somewhere in England, based on your accent. But that feels like a cop-out answer, so I’ll dig deeper. I think your parents are divorced, and one or both of them emotionally or physically neglected you. The other, or maybe the same one, constantly invaded your privacy and didn’t give you room to breathe. You had to learn to take care of yourself and you learned that you couldn’t depend on anyone other than yourself. That’s why you were so afraid of me calling for help that first day I met you, the idea of letting someone in and letting them help you is terrifying to you. You built a castle in your mind to keep you safe and you keep all the doors shut and bolted and reinforced so no one can get in. But really, if you stand back and look at it, they’re not locked out, you’re trapped inside, away from the people who love and care about you and want the best for you.”

She cleared her throat, looking for something to do with herself. Her eyes moved wildly across the room now, concerned about the outcome of her rambling. “If that scared you, pretend it didn’t happen. Having someone read you like that is especially hard for someone like you, I understand that. It’s terrifying. So, yeah. If you need to forget it happened, by all means, go ahead.”

She drew another card from the deck. “What about me is most strange or unfamiliar?” Again, their eyes danced, each hiding the light in the other’s shadow. She paused. “Wait, no. Before you answer that, I need you to be honest about one more thing. Why are we doing this? Why are we walking on eggshells around each other pretending that you don’t have feelings for me and I don’t have feelings for you? We can’t even look in each other’s eyes because we know that if we do we’re not going to be able to stop ourselves from the inevitable.” More quietly, and with the same emotional, convicted tone she had held during her entire outburst, she whispered, “what are we doing?”

She straightened the cards in the deck with her hands, easing the pressure and the attention off of him without giving up her expectance of an answer. She giggled softly, a small smile falling onto her lips. The laughter in her warm brown eyes melted into his own eyes briefly, and she begrudgingly pulled them away again. “In hindsight, that felt like a conversation that could have waited until the fourth or fifth round. But, this is dumb. Life is too short for us to not have direct communication. I want you to answer a question for me, but I don’t want you to answer it right away. Think about it, then get back to me. The question is: what do you want from me? Where do you want this to go? What happens if we pursue this, and what happens if we don’t? Just think about it, I’m not going anywhere but I also can’t stay in this place with you.”

Alexander Littlewood | Rena

“My personality type? So you’ve analyzed me to a tee, then?” Alex’s tone was careless, but after a moment of silence the truth behind his words was all too obvious. She’d mentioned that before, on the night of the wedding, and even now he wasn’t sure whether to isolate himself completely because of it or draw even closer than he already was. It was terrifying, it was overwhelming, but some part of him was aware that the choice had long since been made. It was out of his control, if he believed he’d have acted differently to how it was already happening. The emotions surrounding Rena were as conflicting as ever. “Most people tend to enjoy not being lied to.” It was pointless to add that most people were never given the opportunity to experience his honesty. That was a useless piece of information, of course it was; it was a given, and if she wasn’t aware of that he’d misjudged. (Again. Shut up.)

Her first sentence coaxed a subtle release from him - shoulders dropping infinitesimally, his comfortable tracing of the table’s streaks beginning again. She was answering it literally. Somewhat out of character from what he knew of her - nothing, you know nothing - but he would accept it nonetheless. The country held no bad blood, and there was nothing to stop him from claiming his nationality at any given point. This was fine. As long as the game didn’t hold up to its expectations and stayed at its bare skimming of the surface, it would be fine. His thought processes were unconsciously mirrored in the reversal of the previous relaxation.

“But that feels like a cop-out answer, so I’ll dig deeper.” It was unavoidable. He should have known. He should have fucking known. This was Rena, after all. (He wasn’t sure whether he meant that as a statement, compliment, or warning. All of them, if that was possible.) Digging deeper was uncomfortable, scrutinizing, and inevitable that it would end with the one completing the inspection being hurt, whether it was purposeful as a safety mechanism or a subconscious alienation for the same reason. Either way, it had the same result. The key difference between the usual analysis and Rena’s was that, although they generally hit at least one item correctly, hers was closer than ever. A single accurate assumption was enough to make him run, and yet the speech she’d just given only made him freeze further. The idea of letting someone in and letting them help you is terrifying to you. Once bitten, twice shy. Was it so surprising? It was natural, it was safe, it was all he could do for himself. Was that too much to ask? Yes. No. If you stand back and look at it, they’re not locked out, you’re trapped inside, away from the people who love and care about you and want the best for you. The words stung. He wanted to believe that they were painful because they were false, but he wouldn’t let himself lie to that extent. Not at this moment, not when it felt as if someone had just ripped his skin apart - as if he wasn’t capable of doing that himself - and he was completely exposed. More so than when he’d come to her with blood on his hands - he’d barely been conscious, he told himself now - more so than the night Max found them in the passage. This was jeopardizing, this was vulnerable, and the inability to move did nothing to quieten this.

He took a breath, the result resembling more of a gasp than the intended result, before speaking. He was better than this, he was strong, her words meant nothing, and yet his voice was still shaky. “Not far off from the truth.” His eyes had come to rest from their frantic dancing, and had pointedly settled on her hands. I’ll write you a letter. It was an instinct now, to release all of the unsaid words that he couldn’t bring himself to say on shreds of paper, slipped between books and torn from loose notepads. Scraps, useless for any other purpose, and nonetheless still too personal to throw away. He’d planned to keep them all in the same place, and occasionally fulfilled this, but every now and again he’d come across a slip of rusty white beneath his bed, inside a pocket, carelessly used as a bookmark for whatever piece of literature he was trudging through at that time. They were dangerous, and of course that was the only reason they were gathering. He couldn’t release them into the world, in case of the unlikely chance that someone found them, or if worse came to worst Rena came across them. (He pointedly ignored the diminutive part of him that suggested that it might not be the end of the world if that happened.)

What about me is most strange or unfamiliar? Everything. The unflinching gaze she had on his soul, the lack of withdrawal when she’d seen him at his worst - no, that was a lie, at one of his worsts - the ever-searching need for more. The way her small, inconsequential actions fascinated him more than they should. He could go on, he already had in the previously-mentioned notes, but he wouldn’t. Not now. Not yet. He’d settled on a safe answer that wouldn’t expose him too much more, but again she spoke.

He caught her gaze, held it with his last instance of purpose. Everything in him wanted to flee - are we still playing this game, then? - but somehow, as always and as expected, her eyes captivated him. They were so still, so enrapturing, that he wanted to stare at them for longer than the few moments he allowed himself to. This wasn’t the time. When is it, exactly?

"I don't know," it came as a confession, eyes on the floor now. "I'm not very good at this." Why are we walking on eggshells around each other pretending that you don’t have feelings for me and I don’t have feelings for you? It was the affirmation he'd wanted, even if he would refuse to admit that out loud. This wasn't entirely futile. Whatever 'this' was, which at this point he still wasn't sure. "I -" I don't want to hurt you. I'm scared that if we try, I'll tear you apart. I can't do this again. I can't destroy others for my own protection. "I'm scared," he finally said, in that same conceding tone. "God, I'm terrified, Rena. I can't hurt you. I won't let myself hurt you. And I'm fucking terrified that that's inevitable."

And then, as a murmur that seemed directed more at himself than at Rena, "I can't live with that."

“I’ll -” Despite the apparent gravity of the situation, he almost could have smiled. “I’ll write you a letter.” Their eyes met again, and it felt like some silent acknowledgement that only they understood. This was enough, for now. He didn’t expect her to stay in this place with him, nor would he want her to. She deserved more than this.

“What about you is most strange or unfamiliar?” The transition was clunky, of that he was fully aware, but the previous scenario provided no help for his usual social skills. The truth was necessary. Of course it was. Still, he circled it with practiced caution. “You look at people - truly look at them. And even if what you find might be...less than what you expected, what others expect, just below the societal norm in general, you don’t back away.” A low, mainly humourless chuckle left his mouth. “Maybe that’s just my ‘troubled childhood’ talking. Who knows.” He air-quoted his words lightly, with the barest of eyerolls that could easily be mistaken for a glance.

“Next question, then?”

Rena | Alex

“And by not far off from the truth, you mean I just wrecked you emotionally,” she replied, the tone and the implication leading one to believe that it was more of a statement of fact than a question. A knowing smile lit up her face, lighting up her features for the first time in quite some time, perhaps since she had been back. The other smiles hadn’t reached her eyes, this one made them sparkle with amusement and understanding. “It happens a lot.”

She held her breath as her words hit him, hoping to God they wouldn’t terrify him to the point where he would leave. She didn’t want to be alone, she couldn’t be alone. She couldn’t handle the idea of that. The paranoia that had manifested as a result of everything she had been through made her lose her sanity in every still moment. Alex took that atmosphere away and replaced the room with a gentle, peaceful energy. If at all possible, it was the feeling attached to the notion that, no matter how impractical, they were meant to be together in that moment in time. Assurance. Certainty. Confidence. Gentleness.

She felt the emotion in his words with every nerve ending in her body, she felt them in her soul. She had never had less doubt that he truly meant every word he spoke. The way he said those words was so authentic, so filled with passion and care that any pre-thought response she had created in her brain immediately vanished. Instead, she was left absorbing his emotions, feeling the exact same thing that he did at the same time. She studied his emotion, then slowly her gaze dropped to his hand. She intertwined her fingers with his, her gaze locking onto his briefly. There was an understood moment of silence, of mutual understanding, of comfort. Her other hand came to rest on the top of the hand she was holding in her other, a gentle, comforting gesture. The smile had faded from her face but her eyes were filled with empathy, compassion, and assurance. “Thank you for being honest with me.” At his next words and the mention of a letter, her mood lifted. The idea of having another letter from him made her more excited than it should have. She could have grinned but only the slightest smile lifted on one side of her mouth. Without thinking about it, she replied, “I’ll write you one too.”

After a moment of transition, she picked up another card, explaining that in the next section, both parties would answer the same question about themselves. “What do you need right now, more than anything?” She sighed deeply, her right hand lifting to trace the outline of her eyebrow. It was a nervous habit she had acquired that typically didn’t show, since so little made her uncomfortable. She knew exactly what she needed, she just hadn’t figured out exactly how to express it without giving him the opportunity to be grandiose and spontaneous and overly committed to her. The idea of that made her skin crawl, but the idea of bringing him to Romania loosely circled her mind. Her heart rate was higher now, her gaze was flighty again.

“Honestly?” She dropped her gaze to the table. He was looking at her hand, she watched his gaze ricochet off of whatever hers was on, landing elsewhere. This was how it was destined to be. Always, except for the few glorious moments when they found a safe place to rest in each other. She wondered if it would even hold any value if it came as regularly as it did for most people. Something about the novelty of exchanging true eye contact made it so intimate between them. “To get through our trip to Romania. At risk of dumping years of trauma on you, I’ll just explain that everything about our trip home is not going to be okay. And on top of everything else, I get to add ‘passing out and having an insane panic attack at the last funeral I’ll ever have for the one person that actually knew me and cared about me’ to the list of concerns. I don’t want to go, I’m terrified, and I just want to get it over with. But I’m worried that once I do, I’m going to regret being so fixated on getting through it that I never get the chance to truly grieve and say goodbye.” She put the card at the bottom of the deck, her eyes landing back on him. This was a good question, she thought. He seemed like the kind of person who had the capability of articulating his exact need at every time, but instead of voicing it, he chose to ignore it and push it down until it became too much and he was neglecting his basic needs. Her intuition only went so far and she appreciated the way this game pushed them to the next step in achieving healthy, transparent communication.

After some amount of time, both Alex and Rena ended up on the floor, their backs against the wall. They were still playing the game, but both were getting sleepy and had collectively and without directly saying anything decided that bringing a bed into the picture would end up more awkward and uncomfortable than settling for the floor. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the third round,” she acknowledged with a sleepy smile. “I’m like three seconds from falling asleep on you but I don’t want to make you stay here if you want to head back to your room.” After another few minutes of conversation, she gave in to the overwhelming urge to be close to him, and mainly to not have to support her own body in an upright position any longer. “Give me your arm.” She slipped one arm under his, the other over. With their arms intertwined, their hands danced around each other, mere centimeters from colliding in more than just a series of accidental brushes and touches. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, her upper body nearly hugging his arm. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we?” Her voice was softer, gentler than it ever was. “This feels way too natural for two people that hate physical touch.”

Another few minutes passed, and as Rena came closer to falling asleep, she became more candid. “You were right, earlier, when you said I truly look at people. You’re not less than I expected, though. I see a lot of pieces of you that you think you’re keeping hidden from me, but it’s impossible to hide from me. That scares you, it shouldn’t. When I turned my feelings back on, I chose to absorb your emotions again, the way I did when we first met. I feel everything you feel and I still want you all the same.” Gently, her hand moved to inch up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the lowest scars on his arm. He tensed up at first, but she interjected, “just- just let me. I want to see.” To her surprise, they seemed to have been barely touched since the night he came into her room bleeding, save for one or two. “You’re healing,” she whispered softly, the surprise evident. She had expected to see something much more gruesome. Much to her point, she would have accepted that all the same. It didn’t matter what he was going through or what he was doing or what scars he showed, she would accept him unconditionally. The only conditional love she faced was the love of herself.

Now, much more out of it than even before, she whispered, “I thought about asking you to come to Romania, but for reasons I’m way too tired to get into, I didn’t. If you’re not too tired of the unparalleled levels of drama I bring into your life, I have an extra ticket. You should come.” Within seconds of getting those last words out, Rena’s gentle hold on his arm loosened, and she fell asleep on him for the second time in as many months, though so much had changed in the time between and would continue to change for as long as they danced in between the lines of a predestined but largely unwritten love story.

Alexander Littlewood | Rena

“A full night’s sleep would do a world of wonder.” A true smile, not the half-baked ones he’d used previously that day, cracked across his face, and lessened the angularity. Only slightly, and this was largely because of the way he wore it: carelessly, without thinking, even though it usually took all of his energy to hold it up if it made an appearance.

The grin faded as quickly as it had arrived. “Probably process emotions. I mean, it was two years ago. I should be over it by now. But I was never in it in the first place. I don’t know how to let myself get inside that place and actually show it - I’ve been there and back a thousand times, but I can’t show it. I won’t show it. It’d - I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.” He shook his head, gaze focused too firmly on her hands. “I just - maybe it’d be beneficial. For me, for everyone around me.” For you. I want to try, honest to God I do, but I won’t let myself do that when I’m not enough for you. I need to find myself first. Quieter, but equally desperate: You could help me find myself. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t put that burden on her. No one deserved it, least of all the person he needed to process it for, and he’d never believed in relationships - so we’re calling it that, now? - that grew as they went. He needed to be more for her - more open, calmer, more stable, everything he doubted he’d ever be. He wouldn’t drag her down with him.

“Alright. Which one of your parent’s characteristics would you like to keep or let go of?” What could he say? He would let go of everything, everything that connected him to that family, if he had the choice, but he doubted that was the answer she was looking for. After a brief pause, he said, “I’d give just about anything to let go, properly let go, of my father’s-” why did it feel so foreign to call him that? “-insecurities. I mean, I hate him. There’s nothing that I’d want to take, not even close, but I’m terrified that I’ll become him. That maybe I already have. And that scares the shit out of me, you know?” He trailed off. He’d said too much, of course he had, and it was too easy to wait for Rena’s answer.

After a few questions exchanged in a similar manner, they gravitated to the floor with the same peaceful, silent communication they seemed to share. The gap between each card was growing steadily, and although he’d have liked to blame it on his dislike of vulnerability, it was more because of their equally-increasing sleepiness. His body was exhausted - pretending it’s a separate entity to you again, then - but around Rena, it was impossible to fall asleep. He couldn’t let himself, not when there was so much to absorb, to memorize, to file away in that corner of his brain he saved for every memory with her.

“No, it’s fine.” Somehow, that sentence didn’t come out as passive-aggressive as it usually insisted being. “Don’t exactly have anywhere to be, and besides-” Alex stopped himself. He couldn’t say that. Besides, I wouldn’t leave, even if I did. He’d say that in a letter. That was enough, for now.

“Mmhm.” The memory was vivid, just like every one involving Rena. But explaining it in as much detail as he could remember would reveal too much. Instead, he settled for a simple, “The night of that wedding.” Before everything changed. There was no need to go on - she must remember it too, even if it was mainly the Max part and not so much him - but still, he had to add something. Anything. “Think the alcohol was enough to drown our senses then.” And now? he wanted to ask. I’m perfectly sober. But that was a lie if there ever was one - he was delirious, intoxicated by the fact that she was here, beside him, against him, and neither had plans of changing it in the next few minutes.

I want you all the same. His mouth twitched, before collapsing into the gentle, almost self-conscious smile he’d been fighting. “Thank you. I think?” But there was no question in that sentence; it was sure, as sure as he would ever be, added more for some attempt at descaling the scenario than in search of an actual answer. “I appreciate it. Really.” It was more than that, but the words were eternally just out of his grasp. Maybe that explained his absurd attraction to letters - he could take the time to write exactly what he wanted. He’d write a letter, he decided. There were already so many on his list that adding one more wouldn’t do any harm. He was half-wording it in his head - he could at least try - but as soon as she gently touched his sleeve he couldn’t think.

Again, he wanted to pull away. Needed to pull away. That one night had been a mistake, an accident, something conjured out of his half-conscious brain, something based more on instinct on choice. Did that last phrase make it better or worse? But the point was that this wasn’t something that people were supposed to see. He was supposed to hide it, supposed to cover it up, supposed to pretend it never existed. It was only natural. The scars were grotesque, and they were quite literally created out of his own nightmares. They weren’t meant for the waking world. At night, maybe, under the cover of darkness in some uninhabited part of the property, it was fine to uncover them. No one flaunted their misshapen parts, did they? They weren’t supposed to be seen; the amount of flinches that they’d caused on the few times people caught a glimpse of them had proved that time and time again. Rena never flinched. It was a brief, fleeting thought, but perhaps that was what made him stay.

Was he healing? Her touch was so tender and caring that he almost wanted to believe it. He could believe it, in this moment. But in an hour, in a day, when the light wasn’t so flattering and there were no witnesses to stop him? He couldn’t promise anything. He didn’t mention, couldn’t mention, the shallow slashes that were scattered across his shoulders. She was pleasantly surprised, she was seeing the side he wished he was, and he couldn’t break that. One day, he’d show her. He’d take off his jacket and let her fingers trace the patchwork of his skin - less built-up than his arms, but just as telling of the same thing. One day.

They weren't true scars; not yet, at least. He knew that if he stopped now, they would gradually fade until the only memory of them would be on the occasions someone touched his shoulders, and an involuntary flash of panic would tear through him. There wouldn't be any physical reminder, and that was what made it feel so much worse that he didn't cease. He still had a chance at redemption, and the fact that he had no choice but to ignore it stung. But what difference did it make? Regardless, the circumstances would be the same: he would hate his body, he'd avoid wearing only a short-sleeve, and the same feelings that caused it would still exist. The only part that he felt guilty about was that Rena believed he was changing for the better.

Slowly, just as consciously as all of his actions around her, he took her hand. Reaching up and taking hers with his, he traced her fingers along his upper back. The hoodie was pulled down, revealing the tips of the scars that peeled out of the top of his shirt. There was just enough space to run her hand over them, as softly as he dared, without feeling too constricted. "I am," he murmured softly. Maybe he was. He was. He had to be. He needed some ray of hope to hold on to. “It’ll take time.” He couldn’t say the reason he hadn’t hurt his arms was that her handiwork was too precious, too fragile, to ruin. If it was all he could do, he didn’t want to destroy the memory of that night. There were better, happier memories with her, but that had felt different, somehow. Happiness held no proof of trust. Anyone was allowed to see him on a good day, but on one like that? Never.

He was still dwelling on this, gaze subconsciously tracing her arms, when she broke the silence. But her voice was too quiet, and they were too comfortable, for it to be called breaking. It was a gentle easing into the words. I’ll never be tired of you. He was so tempted, too tempted, to say that. She was asleep, even though barely a moment had passed, and maybe that was what prompted him to speak. He would blame that, after a few hours had passed and he was both alone and tired enough to contemplate every small action he’d made. Still, he said, “I’ll come. If you want me to, I mean.” And then, after a contemplative silence, “It’ll take a lot to make me tired of you.” She wouldn’t remember this. She was asleep, and yet the image of her restful expression burned itself into his memory. Thank the gods or lack thereof that she’s asleep.

Reyes | Drew

Reyes took a deep breath. “Okay.” He tried to mask his impatience and annoyance with her, putting on a kind, patient expression. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. He smiled in a way that revealed he was slowly losing his seemingly endless patience. “I do not know what to do with you,” he exclaimed in a falsely cheery tone, as if he was talking to a dog or a baby. “Here, come here.”

Gently, he lifted her off her feet and into his arms. She was surprisingly limber despite being very wiggly and difficult to hang onto. Carrying her down the stairs proved more difficult than he had initially anticipated, and he had to be extra mindful of the placement of his feet as he descended from the second floor to the first. Instead of putting her down when they reached the bottom, he continued carrying her towards the boarder barn, all the while keeping his gaze forward towards where they were going and off of her. His face was neutral now, lacking its typical empathy and placidity. It was stoic with determination and purpose.

After some amount of time, the girl in his arms fell silent and drowsy. It had only been a matter of time, he mused. It was better this way, she was easier to carry this way. He glanced down at her inquisitively, memories flooding his brain and his body and his heart and his soul. A heavy, heavy weight filled him, urging him to cry but not allowing him to. He couldn’t help but remember the last drunk girl he had carried in his arms. The burn of her memory seared him, but he let it singe his skin. He wanted to writhe in pain, it was better than standing back and being a bystander as everything went up in flames.

Finally, they arrived at the main barn, where he’d promised to meet Katrina twenty minutes prior. The sky was beginning to lighten from the inky obscurity of the night, fading into a lighter, grayer blue. Opening the tack room door with his hip, Reyes placed the sleeping girl down on two pushed-together tack trunks, backing away quietly. He picked up his mount’s tack as quietly as he could, hoping he wouldn’t wake her as he stepped away, locking the door behind him. She would be safer contained in the tack room than she would be anywhere else, at least in his mind. Without thinking much more of it, Reyes made his way to the other side of the barn to tack up Elegance.

Rena | Alex

Through Alex’s explanation of his need to process emotions, Rena was silent other than offering an empathetic gaze that said plenty. She chose to believe that he knew that if he ever wanted to bring his emotions to her, he could. It was much more difficult to trust in that silently than to extend reassuring words towards him, but still, she did it. Out of love and respect for him. Out of a fear that she’d spook him by turning his monologue into a conversation when she wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to have one yet. A lot of her time with Alex was spent speculating, walking on eggshells, going between pushing him to open up and standing back and giving him the space and respect to exist comfortably. She feared the day she would get burnt out and stop trying with Alex, she wasn’t sure they’d have any kind of relationship if it weren’t for her efforts towards him. Then she reminded herself that he’d shown up at her door, and if she were to lose him, he was never hers to begin with. She felt somewhat better after this. Not completely, but better.

She listened to him read the next card. For once, she was unable to respond thoughtfully immediately. Having it be his turn to respond first was more than welcome. This question always tripped her up, having two parents that she felt empathy for but couldn’t associate with. The uncomfortability was stricken on her face, it had to be obvious. She felt a shade or two paler, or maybe redder. She did one when she was uncomfortable and one when she was scared--she couldn’t remember which was which. She grasped for an answer she couldn’t find, but Alex was too important to her to deny a truthful answer.

“You have no idea,” she replied frankly, unsmiling. She traced her eyebrow with her finger again. Thinking about and talking about her parents was usually difficult, but when faced with the notion of potentially running into them in the next week, it was horrifying to think about them. “I’m scared to go home to Romania, to have a chance at seeing them.” She knew the only reason she used the word ‘scared’ was because he had, it was all too easy for her to imitate the object of her affection. She’d done it over and over again in her lifetime despite trying to change it. Identifying it only caused her to overthink. “Honestly, this might be another cop-out answer, but I’ve spent so many years separating myself from my family and becoming my own person that I’m not sure I feel capable of keeping or letting go of their characteristics. I suppose, if I had to choose something, I would like to always keep my father’s heart. He has a big heart, too big. It continues to hurt him over and over, but still he chooses to feel with it. I turn mine off when things get hard, I wish I was more like him sometimes.”

“Mmhm. The night of that wedding. Think the alcohol was enough to drown our senses then.” She smiled a sleepy, childish smile into his shoulder. He was so warm, so soft, so comforting. For as much as he flinched, he never moved when she did this. It was natural between them, he was everything that she had tried to make Reyes into for the last two weeks and failed.

“I think we needed a push,” she acknowledged lightly. “Things are different now. Barely, but they are. I suppose that’s what traumatic, life-changing events do to a relationship, platonic or otherwise.” She paused, drawing in an unsure breath regarding that last statement. She laughed softly, in the same light, airy fashion of her touch. “If you weren’t you and I wasn’t in a stage of life where I can’t tell up from down I probably would have ruined this--us--by now. That’s one small reason why I choose to believe in fate.”

Her heart stopped when he held her hand, guiding it back onto the same skin she’d once healed. She couldn’t help the utter love, respect, and reverence that lingered unabashedly in her eyes. Sometimes he felt so closed off, so distant, and this was the confirmation she needed that her affections weren’t one-sided. Faintly, in the background of the beauty and the awe and the wonder of the moment, terror of reciprocal affection started to set in in the back of Rena’s mind. She could brush it away… for now. She would try, at least.

“It’ll take time.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

For once in their lives, the timing felt right. There was a vulnerability and softness in the air that they basked in, that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, that held her breath captive. She glanced up towards his eyes, then down to his lips. She could have kissed him, it felt like a right enough moment to complete an action that was long overdue. Yet, she waited. He wasn’t looking. There was no reciprocated, unsaid ‘we’re going there.’ Love is patient, she recited to herself internally, letting her consciousness start to drift. After a long, contemplative silence, she thought she heard him utter more words. “It’ll take a lot to make me tired of you.” She was a light enough sleeper, yet entirely convinced these words came from her imagination. She must have been dreaming, she wondered how long she’d been wandering past the brink of consciousness. Still, the notion of him being so vulnerable and affectionate as to utter such words, even fictitiously, brought the gentlest whisper of a smile to her lips as she fell back into a gentle slumber.

Rena was unsure of how long she had been asleep, the only indicator of time being the first signs of light creeping in from the unshaded windows. Based on the blueish-gray glow that was quickly becoming lighter and brighter, it was around six or seven. And based on the fact that Alex was watching her sleep, she had been stirring for some amount of time. “Hi,” she offered him a sleepy smile, fighting her own instinct to run, to leave, to get out of this place with him. She watched him with a soft expression for a few moments, allowing their gentle, mutually-understood silence to preserve the connection between them. She talked herself out of self-sabotage by downplaying what had happened. Except, she couldn’t. So, she arrived at a stalemate.

Even in her most destructive case of self-sabotage, the young woman was still drawn to her person like a magnet. After a moment or two, she resumed her position from the night prior, her head on his chest, arms intertwined. It was the same sensation it always was, but it became increasingly safe to someone who so rarely let down her guard. “If any part of you was serious about coming to Romania, we should probably start doing productive things,” despite the lack of time she’d been awake, she was already functioning with high levels of energy and drive. “We leave in ten hours.”

Sophie/Chase | Cam

“It’s warmer in Virginia than I expected it to be,” the young woman mused from her vantage point beside her adoptive sibling and friend. She smiled softly, watching the early morning sky dance in beautiful pastel colors above farmhouses and fields alike. Though her attention shifted every couple of minutes from the sky to the road and back again, it wasn’t long before her attention was back on Chase. His brown hair was messy from sleep and his grayish-green eyes were illuminated by the bright rays of sun coming in through the windshield. He was so stubborn, she mused. He had a pair of sunglasses beside him that he’d never wear, no matter how much he was blinded by the sun. He was such a creature of habit.

When he only gave some murmur of agreement in response, the young blonde woman returned to occupying her own attention with views of the Virginian countryside. She knew better than to try and elicit a response from her brother before noon, she’d lived with him for long enough and she’d known him for long before that. Despite many years of living together, Chase still had the deeply-rooted introversion of an only child. Sometimes it made her feel like an imposition, though she often chose not to think about it. She was the only one still bothered by it, so ignoring it seemed like a better option.

Surprisingly, Chase began to open his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by a delayed set of rapid-fire directions from Sophie. “Left! Left here, turn. Turn! Now! Turn here!”

The brunet swore under his breath, jamming on the brake and turning onto the long, sprawling driveway of the equestrian center. Sophie tuned out Chase’s angry lecture after the first few words of it, choosing to ignore the pain it caused her to hear him be upset with her. She opened the door of the car as soon as he put it in park, making an extra effort to do it gently as to ensure that he wouldn’t think that she was mad or upset with him. Not that he would notice, she mused, but she wished someone would do it for her.

“I’m going to go introduce myself to the barn staff and explore while you get the details figured out with the office. Text me when you’re done and we can meet up somewhere?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chase agreed, putting his keys back in their place on his backpack. He checked the map on his phone once more before slipping it in the pocket of his breeches, en route to the barn office. Headed the other direction, Sophie walked on the adjacent pathway until she reached what appeared to be a series of barns and proceeded to walk through them until she found signs of human life. Much to her satisfaction, she found an unnaturally tall blond man milling about in the barn aisle. She couldn’t place it, but even from afar, he had a smug feel about him. Still, that didn’t stop her from desiring to get to know people here. With no hesitance, she strode up to him, a soft expression on her face.

“Hi, I’m new here and I’m trying to get to know people, I hope you don’t mind me introducing myself! My name is Sophie, what’s your name and what discipline do you ride?”

(Oh crap I forgot this! So sorry to have made you wait, Tangle)

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventer | Titanium "Storm" and Queen Of Spain "Armonìa" | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" |M: Cameron, Shiloh, and whoever wants to go on the road trip

Rena | Alex + Petrovas

Thank you? “Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.” She took a deep breath then covered her face with her hands, hiding whatever expression of strained humiliation and discomfort was beneath. Something about people making an effort to mention good things she had done sent her through an absolute downward spiral, which was today causing excessive levels of panic on top of the panic that already existed. She’d been packed for three days, so quite literally, all she did for the first four hours of that ten was pace her room frantically. He was being more vulnerable, more talkative, more loving, more reciprocal. This was not supposed to happen. This was supposed to be unrequired, toxic love that ended in heartbreak. She wasn’t made for healthy love. She was made to be abused, to be taken for granted, to be dragged through the unhealthiest highs and lows. Alex didn’t have that in him, and if he was actually interested in pursuing her, her entire vision of everything changed. How could one night change everything so drastically? One second she’d been using him to chase an infatuation high and get over the death of her only balance in this world, and now he was thanking her? Absolutely not.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Alex was supposed to be gone by the time she woke up. He was supposed to panic, to run off, to send a vague text to her phone about why he didn’t mean it when he said he would come to Romania. Maybe he would just ghost her completely, that’d be better than this. He was being genuine, he was being responsible and authentic and healthy and lovely and it was all too much. She couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t long before she’d ended up on the floor of her dorm hyperventilating and thinking about how it was that a man who could barely speak an intentional sentence directed at her was about to get on a plane and go to a new country with her after only knowing her a few months. A country where he didn’t speak the language or know anyone or anything, it was solely based on his trust in her. She was in deeper than she thought.

“Rena? What the hell? What’s wrong?”

“Max,” she started softly, “and you’re not going to like this, so take a deep breath. I accidentally invited Alex to Romania with us.”

…

Her phone buzzed. She didn’t bother checking it, she was a little busy. She stretched her heel down, pushing her leg forward in anticipation of the huge, round jump her pony was going to give at the new natural fence. She hadn’t bothered to lower it from 3’6 and she was quickly regretting that choice, not because he would refuse or lacked the scope to clear it, solely because of the exact opposite. Once he zeroed in on the fence, there was no stopping or controlling him. Knowing better than getting dragged to a fence by the 14.3hh speed demon, Rena just put her hands in his mane, dropped her leg, and allowed him to carry her to it. It felt as though he jumped at least eight inches above the fence, his entire neck gone below his knees. His form was perfect, excessively so. Even the best of riders would have gotten unbalanced based on the way he was jumping out of his skin. Still, she landed and regrouped, or at least attempted to amidst a series of bucks and hops. Her leg moved directly back into its place just behind the girth, her heels down, her leg absorbing all of the movement from her pony. Without touching his mouth, she used voice and body cues to get him to eventually stop after about a half of a lap around the arena. Finally, as she walked him to allow him to catch his breath, she was able to check her phone. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from Alex. Her first instinct was to believe he’d finally cancel now that she’d gone through the annoyance of telling Max. That would be her luck. Yet, it wasn’t. He asked questions that instilled more confidence in her that he was actually coming.

[Rena]: hey!! check your barn email, you should have received an email from me with the itinerary, a packing list, directions, and some other less pertinent stuff i thought you might just want to have bc you’re you. petrovas + i are going to meet at the dorm entrance at 1700 :)

[Rena]: also, it feels dumb saying this to you but i’m going to say it to make myself feel better. you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, if it’s out of pity or obligation i want to reiterate that you shouldn’t feel obligated or anything. :)

It didn’t take long for the remaining two hours to pass, and soon the five of them were headed to the airport. In anticipation for the absolute hell that was traveling with panic disorder that was triggered by feeling trapped, Rena had done a shot of children’s NyQuil before she’d even gotten in the car and was asleep on Alex’s shoulder by the time they hit the interstate. Sofia, who was on Rena’s other side, was quiet other than the occasional glance in Alex’s direction and a soft, knowing smile. Max and Katya were in the front arguing over some obscure detail regarding their travel plans and aggressively changing the radio station. Not much changed over the course of the next sixteen hours. Rena, Sofia, and Alex camped out basically everywhere together and played games and talked or sat in silence while Max and Katya argued and continued their power struggle. By the twelfth hour, Sofia and Rena had made it an inside joke within their little group to throw out a question from Rena’s game every time the fighting got to an unbearable level.

“Katya! It’s 23A, not 27. Are you blind?”

Rena giggled from her position beside Alex, protected from the conflict occurring a few feet away from them. “Which one of us is going to ask this time?”

Sofia drew a card from the top of the stack. “I’ll do it.” She read the card off. “Katya, Max?”

They looked at her, then at each other. In unison, they dismissed, “no.”

“What was your first impression of me? Do everyone.”

“That’s a stupid question,” Max replied, “you were a baby. You looked like a baby.”

“You’re no fun,” Rena replied, arms crossed but smiling. “You have three more to do.”

“You were a child when I was born, I don’t remember my first impression of you.” He turned from Katya back to Rena, then Alex. “Rena, I thought you were too pretty to be Orthodox.” She scoffed, prepared to refute him, but he didn’t let her, “and I was right. And you,” he pointed at Alex, “I didn’t like your accent.”

Sofia and Rena looked at each other knowingly. For once on this trip, it was Sofia who reassured Alex, not Rena. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just mad at himself for losing Rena and he’s taking it out on you.” She smiled softly at him, then glanced back up to Katya. Rena and Max were still arguing about his response. “Katya, your turn.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“If I must. Sofia, I was excited about you. You restored the balance of our family, the same number of girls as boys. I was also concerned that there would be more children after you, so I hoped that you would make them so happy they would not want any more. You did good. Max, I barely remember. I just remember not being able to tell you and Viktor,” she paused, sadly, but continued, “apart. Rena, I just remember that when I met you you were obsessed with insects, that’s all I remember. I knew you would become family. And Alex, you were the first person that came to see Rena in the hospital. I knew you were different, you actually cared about her. Everyone else came out of obligation.”

“Me next? Yeah? Okay.” Rena smiled softly. “Sofia, you were so fascinating to me. Even when you were little you did what you do now, you would be the most extroverted kid in the house and then you’d go out in public and hide behind your mom or your brothers. I always felt fortunate to be able to see your true personality, it made me feel like family long before I was officially family. Katya, you were the last member of the family I met. You were always studying and I think you’re a majority of the reason I think I loved school so much, I looked up to you. To some extent, I still do. Max, my relationship with you was always so… different. You were mean to me for years in the way that little boys are to girls they like, but when I first met you it was so confusing. Viktor was my rock, my steady, my instant best friend. Everything with you was, still is, and always will be extreme. On and off, hot and cold. I didn’t know where I stood with you, ever. I still rarely do. And Alex, you were the most frustrating series of encounters I have ever had. Despite how I actually met you, you seemed so composed, so put-together. Broken on the inside, hiding a lot of pain, sure, but someone I immediately respected and was drawn to, someone I saw a lot of myself in. And every time I tried to do something to prove that to you, it went catastrophically wrong. I’m a three, it’s important to me that people see the best version of me. You saw the worst over and over again and it made me want to cut my losses and just move on. But every time I tried, I just couldn’t.”

Katya smirked. “Has she psychoanalyzed you yet?”

Rena was half-listening, her attention focused on an older man in the corner of the room. “Hey, hurry up and give your first impressions of us,” she said to Alex, “I feel like I need to go talk to that man.”

Once they’d finished that question, Rena got up and hastily made her way across the room. Alex seemed uneasy about it, so Sofia gave that simple, soft smile once more. “She’s okay,” she said softly, “she does this all the time. She has these callings to talk to people, to tell them things or to work through trauma with them. You’ll get used to it. She never goes up to people she’s not called to be with, God keeps her safe.”

“...and, he’s crying.”

“I wonder what they’re talking about.”

“You’d think I’d get used to this by now.”

“You did date her.”

“Barely.”

About twenty-five minutes later, Rena came back, beaming. “That was exhausting but oh my gosh it was good. God is so good to people.”

“What was the trauma of the day?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she shot back at Max, resuming her place next to Alex. “A really long story with a lot of trauma to get through. He basically lost everyone he loved. Meeting me was necessary,” she said softly, smiling. “The healing can begin now.”

Two more connecting flights later, Rena, Alex and the Petrovas were back in their home city. Once they made it through the absolute chaos of the airport, they met the remaining Petrovas outside. Rena’s last dose of NyQuil hadn’t fully left her system at this point, so she’d taken to letting Alex drag her around the airport like a child, holding her bags in one hand and his hand in her other. She was reluctant to let him go, but did so to greet Maria and Alin. They looked exhausted, or perhaps more grief-stricken than anything. After the ‘hellos’ and the ‘we missed yous,’ they eventually took notice of the fifth person in the group. Rena smiled self-consciously, looking from Alex to her friends’ parents. “This is Alex, he came with me,” she cleared up, “he was a friend of Viktor’s.”

“I do not speak good English like my family,” Maria explained, “but welcome. You must be serious,” she gestured to Rena and Alex, then to Max. There was the slightest hint of sadness and longing there, but she didn’t let it show for long. Soon she was on to speaking in Romanian with her children, and Rena pulled Alex aside after he’d introduced himself to Alin and they’d spoken briefly.

“Is it translating?” She gestured to the device he’d put in his ear, which she’d connected to her phone. Once they’d confirmed that it was, in fact, doing what it was supposed to, she smiled at him gently. “Alin is a professor at the local university, he teaches theology and linguistics. One of the languages he teaches is English. Maria understands English, she just can’t speak it, so you’ll be able to understand her Romanian and she’ll be able to understand your English now. Just, whatever you do, you have to stay with me so it stays connected. And, well, because we’re in Romania and getting lost here isn’t the safest option.”

The ride home was comfortable, mainly because Alin, Katya, and Max were in Alin’s car and all of the gentler personalities were together in Maria’s. Sofia, surprisingly, was holding up quite well, but Rena was absolutely falling apart. Every road, every turn, every city sidewalk, every museum reminded her of Viktor. This was their city. And now she was here alone, without him. The reality of the fact that the rest of her life would be spent without him was too much for her to handle, and the drive home became increasingly suffocating. She needed to cry. Alone. And she was currently surrounded by the people she needed to be strong for.

When they arrived back at the house, a two-story brick building covered in ivy, Rena didn’t wait around. She grabbed her bags and stepped inside, letting the feeling of the home hit her. She remembered every little detail, every minute memory here, and they all came crashing down on her at once. She was literally dizzy with emotion by the time she entered the house, and without thinking, she put her bags down in the living room and walked as fast as she could into Viktor’s old room, still perfectly preserved the way he’d left it. She shut the door and sunk down onto the wooden floor, having as quiet of a mental breakdown as she could manage. The tears streamed down her face so frequently she thought they’d never stop, every single memory putting one more crack into an already shattered heart. She was in so much pain she stopped caring about what the others might think of her, and instead, replaced the thought with the notion that she’d never find the strength to leave that floor, that room, that place of severe emptiness and longing in her life. What if she never got over this? What if she never got over him?