Rena | Alex

Her eyes widened, innocent and doe-like, suddenly completely unfocused on the pain of leaving and wholly focused on the weight of his words. She paused for the briefest second, her eyes brighter, wider than they typically were, her facial expression bewildered--shocked--as if she’d just seen a ghost. “You- you… love? me?” This was her undoing. Despite the layers of false confidence she had consistently built up around her, her insides were hollow, barren, stripped of any true security or safety that would cause her to believe her own words, the words she’d spoken so long ago. She couldn’t even remember them now, something about her and Alex needing to admit that they had feelings for each other. Much of that honesty was a defense mechanism, it was her begging him to reject her so she could get on with her life. Things were simpler then, Virginia was a much simpler place for the story of their lives than London had been or ever would be. She had never known he would be so immensely intertwined in her heart, in her soul. Would it have changed her willingness to step in and help him that day in the shadows of the barn? He was nothing but a stranger then. If she had known it would end with her on the floor of his apartment in London years later, collapsed in a heap on the floor under the weight of not only her emotions but his, would she still have done it? She couldn’t make up her mind, though it seemed futile now. This was the present they had, the last past she would be able to cry about as she walked towards a future she didn’t want. She hadn’t realized she didn’t want it until what she did want had come back into her life, though it was too late then.

Their eyes flickered, each stuck on the other’s as if stuck there by some greater force, something Rena would call fate or destiny or God. What would Alex call it, she couldn’t tell. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Still, her eyes resumed filling with tears and without a second thought she collapsed into his arms. Whether she was holding him or being held she couldn’t tell, all she knew was that it was the most emotion she had felt in years, if ever. She had never been so sure that wherever he was was where she was supposed to be, though there was no way for her to justify leaving everything Michael had built just for a feeling, just for the one her heart belonged to. It wasn’t logical, it didn’t promise her physical security, though she knew she was giving up a lifetime of emotional security by choosing the one she was to marry.

“I love you,” she whispered, “more than anything. It will always be you.”

--

She listened to him speak, the hopelessness and despair that he’d built up in the last two years hitting her for the first time. It occurred to her that he’d changed, that he was broken in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine. Ways that she was certain she could heal, that she could mend, but not if she was going to walk out the front door of his apartment in only a few hours. Yet, she was still, quiet. She had no tears left to cry, no pent up emotion left to let spill out of her and choke her from the inside out. “If we can make the world in our imagination anything we like, why not make it the safe place we deserved all along?” She glanced over at him from his position on the couch, half-asleep. She smiled softly, thinking of all of the times they’d gathered at this hour in all the various seasons of their lives. There was something sacred about the timeless, shapeless void between the evening and the morning, something holy, something divine. If it was the only thing in this world that was theirs and only theirs, it was still the most beautiful thing Rena had ever had in this life.

Silently, she got to her feet and resumed her seat beside him on the couch, her arms slung casually around his midsection, her head on his chest. She flinched every once in a while due to all of the abuses her body had taken over the last week, but she was largely too tired to change the way that they were. His heartbeat was so foreign, yet so familiar. It was all she could take in for a matter of minutes. She thought to speak of their future, but their past seemed so much more comforting. It was proof that they had happened, that this had. “Do you remember that night in Virginia, the night we got drunk after the wedding? You were telling me that you see everything in colors. I was always too afraid to ask you, but what color do you see when you think of me?”

--

They fell asleep there not long after, their bodies as intertwined as their hearts, minds, and lives had always been. Reluctantly, Rena awoke with the sun, pulling herself out of his arms and gathering the few things she had. Before she disappeared into the morning, she left behind a letter not unlike the box he’d left for her years prior.

To the greatest love I’ve ever known:

I know I will never be whole for as long as I live if it’s not with you. I don’t take this decision lightly, but it seems the only one I can make. I know some part of me has a choice, but I don’t know how to make that choice without burning everything I touch. Surely that’s what I’m doing anyway, I only hope you can forgive me. I will think of you always, though I hope one day it will be smiling rather than in tears and broken over being without you. I know I will never recover from this, I only hope that you can. Experience your life, love every moment of it. Forgive yourself, find God, find someone who loves you as much as I did, find someone who can love you better. You are everything I wanted in this life, and everything I will ever want. I always loved you and I always will.

Rena

P.S. I forgive you. For everything.

Reyes | Drew

Reyes had expected a slap in the face before he had ever expected her to actually follow through with her kissing him, but it didn’t stop him from going through the motions until he felt something. He closed his eyes and he saw Josephina, his mind replayed everything she was until it hurt. He’d flinch and open his eyes, met by the beautiful, innocent green gaze of Drew. Something was different about this, she was vulnerable, she was trusting him, she was giving him apart of her that he hadn’t expected her to. That made him uneasy, so his eyelids continued to flutter open and shut, avoiding her gaze but not keeping his eyes closed for so long he got sucked into a lucid reverie of his past love.

By the time she pulled away, Reyes had her pinned against the opposite wall, their breathing ragged. Their clothes were wrinkled, their hair messy, their minds alive. His eyes were patient, soulful, comprehending what she had to say. “I understand,” he replied, pausing for a moment before falling back into the moment he’d just agreed was over. He kissed her again, replying to what she said between kisses that implied that it was far from over. “It’s better- this- way.” His smile was sly and mischievous. She pulled away again, her expression more serious this time. She said his name once, twice. It sounded holy when it came off of her lips, it sounded like something profound and deep, a novelty. He would have given anything to be a novelty, to feel like one. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression gentler, deeper this time. Her green eyes begged for this to mean something, almost so much so that he wanted it to himself. For a moment, he thought he was capable of being the person she deserved. He could work hard at it, maybe he could be worthy. Maybe he could get sober and get his mind right and become what she needed. He would try, surely he would. Starting tomorrow, starting after one more drink, he resolved.

He stared into her eyes, their faces almost touching once more. “You say my name like it means something,” he whispered softly. “Like I mean something.” She was more insistent this time. He wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that didn’t blatantly disrespect her wishes. He nodded solemnly, dejectedly, taking the hand that was tracing his arm in his own. “Just- don’t go. Please?” He was begging, if he was ever capable of doing so. “I don’t want to be alone right now. I don’t want to wake up feeling sober and empty again. We don’t have to do anything, just... don’t leave me alone.”

Alexander Littlewood | Rena our fave

Her touch made him flinch more than he’d wanted to in front of her, not when her head on his chest was the only thing he’d ever wanted. Even though he wanted to lean in, he found himself tensing away from her. He couldn’t breathe, he wouldn’t let himself breathe, and yet it was the only way he knew how to breathe. Rena, he thought. Rena. How had he lived so long without her? It was foolish to ever have relied on her as much as he had - as he still did - but for once, he was too exhausted to argue with himself. Maybe this was peace, maybe this was the closest thing to peace that he would get, maybe this was the step to salvation. His chest rose in time with hers. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say - some distant part of him knew that this could never last, that she would leave - but the words caught in his throat. Wasn’t he stronger than this? Never. Rena had an uncanny way of tearing down his defences, rendering him helpless. Vulnerable, if he could go so far as to call it that.

He glanced down at her. “I could never forget,” he whispered. The crushing weight of guilt, sorrow, grief at losing her and finding her and inevitably losing her again was going to drown him if he wasn’t cautious. But even though he knew he was being careless, even though he knew that it would hurt less for both of them if he withdrew, even though he knew that everything they were doing was irrational, he couldn’t leave. The need to escape was only outweighed by the only thing that ever could: Rena. He couldn’t decide which was more suffocating: knowing that her presence could never last longer than the night, or not having it at all.

“You were-” Speak, coward. Is it so hard to open your mouth without making a fool of yourself? He was speaking in past tense, as if the time for that was over. Isn’t it? “...you were bright. Not white, like...I don’t know, the sun on a summer day. If you took the colour alone, maybe it would be called white or cream or something like that, but in the moment all it is is blinding. A hint of orange at the edges, I don’t know. You see,” he smiled humorlessly, a bare apparition of the true thing, “I still can’t describe you.”

There was so much more he had to say. It was different to the cube, though - there, he had had no choice but to stay silent with the words he could never say, although arguably he had little more of one in this scenario. Your voice was light as well, a pastel pink and maybe a touch of blue, I don’t know, I’m rambling, sort of like a dusky sunset. I’m over-using that metaphor. The point, Rena, is that you’re my sun. You could have been, if I hadn’t messed it up. I’m sorry, Rena. I’m so fucking sorry. He kept his mouth shut. His first logical decision of the day, in his opinion.

Instead, he looked at her. Rarely her eyes, not when he could so easily and so willingly lose himself in them for what felt like an eternity, but everywhere else, anywhere else. Anywhere that was Rena, anything he could add to the blueprint in his mind. If all he had was memories, he was going to clutch at the echoes of everything he could never have. Alex swallowed, blinked, hoped she wouldn’t notice the hitch in his breathing. Rena, he wanted to say. Don’t go. Don’t leave me to my mind. Don’t - I need you, Rena. It was with that thought and that thought alone - a solitary thought in itself was a rarity - that he drifted to sleep, even in his drowse overly aware of her gentle, steady breathing, her arms laced around his, the fact that this was Rena, this was Rena, this was Rena.

---

In the morning, she was gone, in the way he knew she would but had refused to believe. Still, her ghost lingered wherever she’d touched. He couldn’t bear to disturb anything - the empty mug on the floor, a cushion she’d pulled from the couch beside it, her scent on his shirt - if only to keep the memory intact. To remind himself that it was real, as real as anything. If this was the last time he saw her, and he had no doubt that it had been, he had to cling onto the remains of the memory for as long as possible. If that was the last time he felt peace, true peace - he didn’t want to willingly think about what that would mean.

The room was too sacred to move from; his latest explanation of why it was so difficult to move, why he was so reluctant to change a thing, why the weight of everything was too heavy for him to do anything.

It was two weeks later - fourteen days of ignoring the growing amount of unread texts, clawing at his skin, disregarding most if not all of his basic needs and largely doing his worst at taking care of himself - that he came across the neatly folded letter on the counter while groping for something to relieve the very pain he’d put himself in. Her handwriting, though he hadn’t seen it in years, was recognizable immediately, not to mention that she was the only one to be anywhere near it in the last week.

Alex had to close his eyes for a moment after the first line. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. It didn’t matter that there was no one to see him, but even when he was curled up halfway down to the floor, even when the familiar, almost comforting trickle down his wrist began, even when he was barely in control of himself or his breathing or his consciousness or anything, anything at all, he wouldn’t let himself be so weak as to cry. At least he could pretend that his shaking body had nothing to do with the letter, and everything to do with the unfathomable spiral he found himself in.

He tried to cling onto the edge of the counter, leaning almost entirely on it for stability, breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Find God, find someone who loves you as much as I did, find someone who can love you better.” I don’t think you understand, Rena. You were my best. The gasps were going to swallow him if he wasn’t careful, and he was slowly letting go of the fear that someone would see. The pain was too much to handle; the longing, the guilt, the knowledge that it would never - could never - be better than this. This was the life he’d chosen, this was the life his hand had been forced to choose. Wasn’t it only fair that he was facing the consequences? Not like this. Anything but this.

Was it so preposterous to want something better than this? Something more than the scarlet stains on his towel, the phantoms in his mind, the smooth knife against his skin. But there wasn’t any hope, not for people like him; not for the ones who would never be worthy of it. This was what he deserved, he knew, but then why did it feel so painful? (Your arms are covered in blood from the scars you don’t let heal. It doesn’t take much to figure out why.) Why did it feel so hard? His eyes flickered shut. You deserve this. You deserve this.

He wasn’t completely or even slightly sure how long he slumped over the table for. Ten minutes or ten hours, or anything in between. He hadn’t tried to tell the time. At some point, the faint red lines from where he’d touched his face intermingled with tears, and although the release might have let go of the overwhelming weight in his chest, his mind, anywhere that he could feel, it only made him push harder. It made him pay penance for the sin that crying clearly was, for the sins he had committed in the past, for the sins he had yet to commit but knew he would. For an atheist, he placed an absurd amount of meaning on atonement.

The blood - his blood, he thought with a strange satisfaction - was flowing faster than before. He hadn’t hit an artery nor was he in danger of losing enough blood to die, but some part of him wished he had or he was. Briefly, he wondered what it must be like for Rena, to know that a simple cut could kill her. To hold such power in her hands, to be able to take life effortlessly. It was the smallest thing of everything that set Rena in leagues above him, but in this moment it was the one he envied the most.

His eyes snapped open. It was impossible to bring himself back, not when he was still unsure whether he wanted to, but the least he could do was heave himself up. Try to stand by himself, almost slip, grip the wall with as much energy as he could muster. Breathing raggedly, he went through the motions robotically. Attempt to ignore his thoughts, fail, narrowly escape grabbing the kitchen knife. Get out of here. An instinct, the knowledge that if he stayed alone any longer it would be worse than it already was. The letter still crumpled in his fist -- find God, find someone who loves you as much as I did, find someone who can love you better.

Maybe it was that phrase, or the association of it with Rena, that guided him to the chapel. It was a quaint place that was tucked into the corner of two of London’s quieter streets. Quiet at that time of day, but enough people that he hoped would hold him back if -- but he wouldn’t go down that path. Willingly, at least. Too noisy, despite the only noise being the muffled chatter between two women at the opposite end. Make it to the back pew, ignore everyone else. Everything else. Try not to touch his arm, fail, slump lower to hide his face. Hide anything recognizable, anything that might tell anyone who he was. Maybe they were still looking for him. Maybe they were still interested in making him pay for what he had and hadn’t done. Somehow, the thought didn’t scare him anymore. It was a factual acknowledgement, emotionless, calm. They were going to kill him. Makes my job a whole lot easier. Job. Wasn’t he supposed to let Felix know? That he couldn’t come in this week, or the week before, or the one before that. That maybe he wouldn’t come in again. He should have planned this better, he should have tied everything in a way his life could never be. A note. Was that what he was supposed to do? He didn’t know, and he barely cared.

Every few minutes, he would catch himself. Pull himself back, or at least try. Quiet, Alex. Don’t go there. His thoughts were too scattered to listen for more than a moment of peace, before they were off on a tangent again.

He was praying to a god that didn’t exist, but somehow that wasn’t even the strangest thing at that moment. Please. Anything, I’ll do anything just take this away please I’m begging you for anything everything anything other than whatever I’m stuck in right now whatever this is please god please. The prayers escaped his mouth soundlessly, one hand clamped across his arm to stop the bleeding he refused to acknowledge or show, and head bowed to the point it was almost touching his knees. Please--

He swallowed, not even trying to stop or hold back the tears that were streaming down his face. It was too late for that. His hand, the one that had been supposed to make the bleeding better, was now the one digging into his flesh to find anything, anything that might replace the emotional pain for a physical one. Please. He’d stopped caring whether anyone saw him, or maybe he had no energy left for that, but either way it was the unlikeliest of scenarios to the unlikeliest of people: an adamant atheist praying in a church. Now it was Alex who was the one crying at the altar, even if he happened to be pushed as close to the wall as close to the back as he could get, and it was Alex who was begging. Pleading, with a god that didn’t exist.

Rena / Petrovas / Sarah | Alex <3

It was a quarter past noon when the trio entered the church, each hesitantly glancing towards the man they had come to find, not wanting to disturb him when he was so clearly in the midst of something important. “I’ll go,” Sofia said gently, leaving Max and Luka to offer up their intentions with the time their sister had given them. They’d only been together for a few weeks, the original Petrovas still trying to figure out what to make of the story Luka had told them. It was all too confusing to fully comprehend, though they weren’t too concerned about the 0logistics of everything when they were all just trying to get their lives back on track after everything that had happened.

Softly, Sofia slid into the pew beside Alex, not making any effort to touch him or otherwise disturb him until he indicated that he was aware of her presence. She smiled softly, empathetically at him when he finally glanced over at her, his expression twisted into nearly every emotion imaginable. “If you came here looking for her, you just missed her,” she put her hand on his leg in a sympathetic manner, a knowing but regretful expression on her face as she looked him in the eye. She considered all of the words of comfort she could say to him, but none of them seemed right. Instead of continuing on about the reason she assumed he was curled into a fetal position, she refocused herself on the reason they’d tracked him down. “We just wanted you to know that we’re safe now, all of us. Max and Luka took care of everything.” She put a slip of paper beside him, noticing the rigid way he carried himself. He was so different around Rena, so much softer. She hoped dearly that the young woman she considered family would find her way back to Alex, if not for her sake, for his. "My number is there, just in case you ever want to sit in silence with someone who understands. I know I'm not her, but I don't want you to be alone." She smiled, but the weight of what life had stolen away from Sofia in the last few years manifested in her glossy stare. She pretended not to notice the blood seeping through his sleeves for his own sake. It didn't seem lethal, and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

…

About a week later, a beautiful blonde woman caught him on his way in from the same place. She was studying the apartment numbers, comparing them to a piece of paper in her hand. "Excuse me," she called out, "I'm sorry to bother you." He didn't seem to be paying her any mind, he wanted to get away from her and into his apartment as quickly as possible. "Do you know a woman named Rena Suta?" He turned now, fully intrigued. "Is your name Alex?"

She finally caught up to him, just at the base of his door. He was hesitant to invite her in, but reluctantly did so out of obligation if nothing else. The apartment was a mess, and it brought back vivid memories of what her house looked like in the days after her husband left her, before she and her daughter had moved in with her brother. She had wanted to keep everything perfectly preserved in time as if his memory was alive in the place.

Trying her best not to give the appearance of staring at the clutter, Sarah took a seat and politely accepted when he offered her tea. As soon as he sat down, she began speaking. "About a week ago, Rena got into a car accident. She was perfectly fine, just scratches and a mild concussion to show for it, but she hasn't been the same since. She has these manic episodes where she starts begging us to find her brother, telling us she saw him and that he's in danger. We don't know anything about her past, but before this week, she told us she didn't have siblings. Michael found her standing over the sink the other day just watching blood drip down her arm. She was holding a knife just watching herself bleed. After that he got her committed to the hospital where he works so he can monitor her in safer conditions. She keeps having catatonic episodes where she's completely unresponsive, just mumbling things none of us can understand." She handed the slip of paper to him, as if she'd forgotten before, "I found this in the trash outside of her room, it looks like she wrote it for you. She wrote your address on the top and your name, the rest seems incoherent to me but you might be able to make something out that could help us." Then, more quietly, "my brother doesn't know I took that, or that I'm here. He doesn't want us to give credence to these episodes, but she seems so convinced and so afraid, I had to try at least. She keeps ripping out the stitches in her arm trying to get someone to listen to her, it's terrifying."

Alexander Littlewood | Sarah, Sofia

Alex was vaguely aware that someone was tailing him, but hadn’t paid much if any heed to it. He was trying to learn to shake the paranoia with public spaces - slowly, and an outsider wouldn’t have been able to see any progress - and that was why, instead of giving into his need to whirl around with a knife in his hand - he hadn’t mentioned that to Ahmed, so that at least he was allowed to keep - he ignored the distant voice. He was imagining it. Of course he was. The chance of someone calling his name - knowing it, for that matter - in this neighbourhood was so unlikely it didn’t even deserve notice. It isn’t real. It isn’t real.

To his credit, it worked for longer than usual. He managed, somehow, to get to the base of the building he lived in without doing anything too catastrophic to both himself or the stranger a few metres behind him. (As usual, home didn’t feel like the right word to describe it.) He slotted the key into the door, grip tightening on the handle, lips moving soundlessly it’s okay it’s okay nothing’s there it’s okay you’re safe it’s okay. But that, as always, only worked for a few seconds. (It was almost ironic, that on the rare occasion that he’d almost kept it at bay, his fears were rational. He could have laughed, if he wasn’t only just managing to keep his breath under control.)

Alex whipped around. His angry - frightened, if the woman had known him better - gaze changed indistinguishably when it met hers. Not the type of person he’d been expecting - too well-dressed, with a gently confused expression that looked too subtle to be fake - but then, he wasn’t conscious of expecting anything in particular. She was vaguely familiar - maybe it was the voice, or an appearance that could have belonged to any of the countless strangers he’d passed - but he shook the thought away. He couldn’t know this person. The logic of it made no sense.

Alex wondered whether she saw how his breath caught when she mentioned Rena. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I did.” Past tense, again, the only way he saw fit to reference their bond. Was he expected to invite her in? Yes. No. But in the end, the tantalizing promise of Rena, even passing references, was too compelling. The woman had to come in, and so he went through the motions of being a socially acceptable person. Information, especially of the person he thought he’d never hear of again, was the strongest bait anyone could have used. (His mind flickered, calmly, that she was about to kill him. She had a gun - no, a knife, the gunshot would bring too much attention - and he had a few moments left of living.)

Alex glanced up sharply from the cold tea in his hands. Any act of indifference disappeared as soon as the woman started talking. There was no way that he could hide the dawning shock on his face. He’d dropped a mask, and now he was forced to show everything - feel everything. “I...as far as I know, he’s dead. She...she didn’t like talking about it.” What he meant to say, what would have been better to say in front of her fiance’s sister, was she didn’t talk about it to people she wasn’t close to, or I didn’t know her very well, or trail off into silence. Any of those would have been safer, any of those would have protected him more, but none of them came out.

Still, it had a familiar sting to it. The words weren’t far from the truth, if he was bold enough to think that they could be even slightly false. There hadn’t been a rush to ask her for her secrets, not then. Not when they still thought they had time. And it was only now that he was discovering just how little he knew of her. It was easy, when he thought there would be years to listen to her story. Katya - it could have been any of the Petrovas, he couldn’t fully recall - had mentioned something in passing, but he couldn’t remember Rena speaking about it. And, seeing that he cradled their memories with more care than most, it was unlikely he’d forgotten. What he did remember was the way she withdrew when Ivan was mentioned, the familiar, dull ache behind her eyes. He remembered her too-bright smile - sometimes none at all, which was more worrying than anything else with someone so focused on keeping up pretences - and the way she never brought it up in any discussion, barely acknowledged it when someone else did. It was an old wound, but somehow he could tell that it had never quite healed.

She was still speaking, but he wasn’t absorbing anything she was saying. He scanned the scrap of paper, body motionless save for his eyes, drowning out every other stimuli but his sight. Rena. Rena, I’m coming. It’ll be okay. It has to be okay,

He glanced up to see the woman looking at him expectantly. She must have said something - or done something, anything that needed a reply, physical or verbal, from him. He frantically scoured his mind for anything that might have been filed away while he ran on autopilot. Stitches, or something like that. Probably something of importance, but not important enough to warrant asking what she’d said. Very few things were worthy of that, and even fewer people were safe enough to ask without fearing any consequences.

“I…” Was it something he could wing? Most likely not, but as usual that did little to stop him from doing it anyway. “I have somewhere I need to be-” liar “-but I can...I’ll try help as best I can. Could you keep me posted on - on whatever happens? I…” He took a deep breath, eyes falling to the floor. “I’ll figure something out.” They exchanged numbers, and she luckily got the message that he needed her gone as soon as possible.

Almost as soon as she was out of sight and he’d watched her car disappear from the street, he fell into action; action being finding an adequately warm and clean hoodie, slipping out the door, and lingering on the small stairwell between his apartment and the outdoors.

Alex waited for the phone at the other end of the line to be picked up, fingers drumming against the wall. Even though it was the only thing he could hear, it was a long moment before he registered that she'd answered.

“Sofia?” He toyed with the words he was about to say. “I… I need your help.”

Sofi / Petrova Sibs | Alex

“Ivan?” Sofia cradled a cup of hot coffee in her hands, holding the handle of the mug with acute and attentive precision as to avoid burning herself on the scalding surface. She’d already slipped up several times as a result of the consuming topic of conversation causing fleshy burn marks to swell on her hands. She placed the mug back down on the table, forming a shadow across its smooth brown hue. Unsurprisingly, Luka had exquisite taste in furniture, and the apartment he shared with his newfound siblings screamed of this. “That whole thing, it was very strange. He was intelligent in a way that exceeded anything I’ve ever seen before, and I went to school with the top one-percent of our age in the world. Anything–anything–he tried, he immediately excelled at. I went to school with him when we were very young, but he knew so much that they could not keep him in a grade that would hold his attention. Their parents were having college professors come in to debate him in every topic you could think of by the time he died. I can’t even recall what they said had happened, some freak accident. Rena was emphatic that they had done something to him, she loved him in a way I’ve never seen in a human being before. She constantly protected him from their parents. Half the reason I think Katya became a doctor is because Rena would show up on our doorstep in the middle of the night bleeding and covered in bruises. Both of our parents would work nights and leave her in charge, she always stitched her up and made sure she was okay. I'll never forget the day she showed up after Ivan died, even Viktor didn't know how to console her." She frowned sadly, the wound still deep. "He always knew what to say." She paused briefly. "He used to keep a journal of things about Rena, or that she said to him, things like that. He knew she told him things she would never tell anyone else again, so he did it to protect her--in case anything happened. The only problem is that I don't know where it is. He left it for her in his will, but none of us have been able to find it. The last person who saw it was Rena, do you know if we can go see her? There's something off about her being there, I don't like it."

--

"Thank you for meeting me here," Sarah smiled brightly, though fear lingered behind her well-built facade. "Nothing seems to be working, we can't get her to calm down enough to the point where Michael sees it fit to bring her home."

Sofia glanced over at Alex, her facial expression giving her thoughts away. "Isn't he a pediatric surgeon?"

Sarah nodded. "He works downstairs, but he's close with the staff up here. And, you know, no one knows Rena better than Michael." The pair flinched, exchanging another glance.

"Right," Sofia's tone did nothing to support her agreement. "Well, can we see her?"

"Um," her words dragged on unsurely, "We're not supposed to allow visitors…"

"Listen," Sofia demanded. "My brother died, the man who did it tricked me into loving him, then helped to plot the murder of my other brother, sister, and this man," she gestured to Alex, "who is more of a brother to me than Michael will ever be. I am tired of losing people and I am tired of caring. Not to mention more than happy to do whatever it takes to get my sister out of here, because she is not insane. Perhaps it is the company she keeps that has driven her there."

Dejectedly, and more than a little hurt, Sarah pointed them in the right direction. Sofia's expression showed guilt and remorse for her harshness, though she didn't try to amend anything with Sarah. She had very clearly chosen her side, and she meant to stick with it.

When they arrived at the room, Rena was limp on the floor, her body convulsing as if she was being subjected to extreme winter elements. Her eyelids fluttered violently and she was mumbling incoherently to herself, hugging her body with her hands. Though very clearly sedated, she rocked back and forth softly, some sort of pained coping mechanism for whatever she was enduring. Her arm was bandaged up where the stitches were, the flesh around it almost every color including something so dark it almost appeared to be black. Several scratches had been stitched up on her head, and many bruises lined her body.

"Rena," Sofia had flown onto the ground as quickly as possible at the sight of someone she knew to be so strong and independent. "Rena, it's okay, okay? We're here now."

"Alex," she mumbled gently to the young woman beside her, "don't...let him...die...it's so...cold."

Alexander Littlewood | Sofia, Sarah, Rena, Michael [indirectly

Even before Sarah began talking, Alex was on edge. Her tight smile, or the way she looked at both of them with a mixture of unease and relief. A vague memory drifted back: my brother doesn't know I took that, or that I'm here. He doesn't want us to give credence to these episodes. He couldn’t tell whether his suspicion surrounding Michael was clouded by his emotions, but a glance at Sofia confirmed it. “There's something off about her being there, I don't like it.” The more time he was spending with Rena’s supposed fiance’s sister, the more uncomfortable he was becoming.

-”who is more of a brother to me than Michael will ever be-”

He didn’t think he imagined the way Sarah’s gaze lingered on him at that remark. Rena wouldn’t have spoken about him, not if even the Petrovas had gone unmentioned, but the way she looked at him made his insides recoil. It wasn’t as if it was a secret - was it? There was Max before him, and most likely a handful of high school boyfriends she’d never mentioned. There was nothing scandalous about ending a relationship. (Like that, though?) Then why did he feel so scrutinized over those few words?

Alex walked a few paces behind Sofi, as if the physical gap might help him forget why they were here in the first place. Hospitals always brought out the worst in him. Too white. Blinding. Not in a Rena type of way, more in the way that told him to run while he still could. Why were they all this bright? It felt distinctly unsuitable to close his eyes, and so he resorted to staring at the carpet - rough enough that he could feel it through his shoes - to distract him.

His chest felt tight, as if someone had placed a particularly large brick on it and expected him to breathe. No, not a brick. Maybe at first, maybe the moment they’d stepped into this hellhole, but now that analogy was too weak to consider. His hand went instinctively to the opposite wrist. Pain was just a momentary distraction, but didn’t he deserve that? Did he? (He knew he wasn’t supposed to respond to that, or at least not with the answer that leapt into mind.)

How was everyone so goddamn calm?

By the time they reached the room Sarah had pointed them to, he was almost under control. Almost, not fully, but that was all he had. Fingers curled tightly into his palms, he was barely composed enough to face it. It was down to luck and purely luck that for once, the barely had tipped to the other side, the good side. This was Rena. This was good. This was what had to be done. (When had he started viewing seeing her, seeing the one person that made him feel faintly whole, as a burden? You know exactly the answer to that.)

Sofia was the quickest to rush to Rena’s side. He stood, frozen, for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but what felt like a lifetime. He’d known that Rena was doing badly, that she wasn’t fully present in everything around her, but even so, the mental preparation to see his favourite person - his only person - falling apart did nothing to change the shock; and the knowledge that of all of them, this wasn’t supposed to happen to her. Not that she didn’t deserve the support she so clearly needed, but that she didn’t deserve this. He was supposed to be like this; not her, not the only person that he was truly convinced deserved happiness. He would have set the world on fire if only to keep her warm; and again, he’d failed her.

The longer he stood there, the harder it became to move. The thoughts were chasing him again: now you’ve made it awkward you need to go she needs you but no stop it just shut up please this once I don’t want this please fuck this please has anyone noticed how cold it is no stop please for rena just stop it rena i’m here rena it’s going to be okay i’ll make it okay please shut up no rena i’m here i’m here rena. A deep, slightly laboured breath. Rena. He’d made it, somehow, dropping into a crouch beside her. Rena. It took a moment to realize he’d said it out loud.

He tried to think of what she might have done if their positions were reversed. Said something perfectly suited for the situation, done something that might actually change it a little. But he wasn’t Rena, and he had no idea what was expected in circumstances like this. All Alex could offer was so much less than she needed, and even less than she deserved. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay.” “Hey, it’s alright, we’re here. I’m here now.” Could she hear what he was really saying, beneath the soft tones and pretence at knowing what he was supposed to do? I’m so sorry it took so long. I should have been there for you. I should have been here.

“I’m not leaving you, okay? Not until it really is fine.” Taking her hand tentatively - he couldn’t help but notice the bruises that lined her skin, and again the overwhelming thought that this isn’t supposed to happen to you- he guided it to his chest. Everything he did, everything he said, always led back to memories. That first night in the hallway; shrouded by the possibility of death, again, as usual.

“See?” What was it that she’d said to him? Something right, something good, something he could never attempt to replicate. Could she feel the way his heart was racing, could she feel his presence? “I’m okay, I’m here.” The ghost of a memory. “You wouldn’t feel that if I wasn’t, ” he said softly, his grip on her hand finding the equilibrium between holding it there against her will and letting it drop. Falling back onto the only phrase he could say with complete truth, “I’m here.”

sofi | alex <3, rena, sarah

Sofia glanced up at the lanky figure still looming in the doorway, her heart racing from the scene they’d stepped into. She felt all of the emotion she felt obligated to feel, but heavier than that was the absence of emotion that had consumed her since she had come to London to rescue her siblings. Some piece of her had simply shut down in the face of everything she had endured lately, and the lack of ability to control her emotions, to feel empathy, to be the person the people around her expected her to be, it had all caused a massive gap between her thoughts and her true identity. The latter felt very far from who she felt like she was in this current state, knelt over the limp figure she considered to be a sister as she mumbled something partially coherent. It wasn’t cold, not to her. In fact, she’d removed her jacket on the elevator ride up to their current location. Sarah seemed perfectly content in a tasteful blouse that seemed to have no place being worn at a hospital. She knew she was being hypercritical, but it seemed unrealistic to feel anything other than disdain for someone given the circumstances.

Weeks prior, Sofi had known much less about Rena’s life here in London. She knew much more than Max, Katya, or their parents, but Rena had kept the majority of her personal life very private. On the pair’s weekly phone calls, a tradition they had maintained since Sofia had moved to America to pursue her education, Rena spoke in depth of the education she was receiving from a prestigious university in the city. She could always hear the smile in the older woman’s voice when she spoke of her aspirations. She was graduating with her degree in only a year and some months due to the level of academia she had immersed herself in as a younger student. She would graduate just before Christmas of this year, then go on to receive some hands-on experience in her field. One of them, anyway–Rena was graduating with multiple degrees. This was, if Sofi remembered correctly–or at least assembled the pieces of this largely confusing puzzle in a somewhat coherent fashion–how she had come to meet Michael. Rena was taking a class that had brought her to his floor of the hospital for one thing or another, and the rest had to be history. She’d mentioned him early on and in passing, not giving in to Sofia’s desperate pleas for more information. She had mentioned several guys since she’d settled in London, each with a distinct pain in her voice. In fact, it was obvious it was out of necessity that she had even brought them up in the first place. She was always so diligent about her security, and letting Sofi remain informed was her way of protecting herself in case any one of her dates went sour.

There had been no mention of an engagement or a party, or the fact that she had moved in with her apparent lover, his sister, and his sister’s young daughter. Now, it wasn’t hard to distinguish why. Alex had found his way over to her limp body, lying on the cold, hard floor of the hospital room rather than a bed, sedatives dripping through her veins to keep her in a ‘manageable’ state. She felt more comfortable letting him try to comfort her, considering the fact that it was his name that was on her lips, even in a barely conscious state, and she slid back a few feet, against the wall. She watched the pair of them as diligently as Sarah, with an opposite expression on her face and an opposite message conveyed through her body language. He was so gentle with Rena, visibly apprehensive but eventually giving in to the notion that protecting her had to come before protecting whatever image they were or weren’t displaying to Sarah and, thus, Michael. The only thing that Sofia could manage in an otherwise untouched, clouded mind was a simple sentence: he still loves her.

It was obvious weeks ago, too, when they were at the brink of death, forced to deal with whatever trauma they had caused the other in what they thought to be their last hours. She remembered. He was on the brink of death, injected with something Luka had only described as ‘lethal,’ and he still had somehow managed the strength to protect Rena for long enough to save both of their lives. She remembered more than his actions, she remembered the look on his face and the way he paced in the hospital, refusing to receive care for himself until he knew that she was okay. But, she had assumed that some piece of that was residual emotion from everything that had occurred. Now, watching him whisper gentle affirmations to her, his hand guiding hers to his heart, she had never been so sure that what they had was still love, if not more than love, whatever that was. She glanced at the woman in the doorframe, who did not seem pleased to witness this moment between the woman who was supposed to be her sister-in-law in a matter of months and a man who had shown up at an engagement party weeks ago and ruined everything. Some level of surprise was also observable, and Sofia assumed it was because of either the realization that whatever slip-up Rena had that had landed her here was because of something that had really occurred, or because of the fact that the young woman had become calmer in his presence, something she assumed had not happened on Michael’s trips down to ensure that his bride-to-be was still locked in this prison, sedated, and in his control.

“Hey,” she said softly. She had gotten up from her spot in the corner of the room, and was lingering gently beside Alex and Rena. “I’m going to go get some of this sorted out, I’ll be back soon.” Sofi was positive Rena wasn’t going anywhere in her fragile state, and by the look in his eye and the way he’d continually edged closer to the person he was subconsciously trying to protect from the other people in the room–one in particular–she was very convinced he wasn’t going anywhere either, unless it was closer to Rena, if at all possible. If it was anyone else, she would have wanted to be the one to stay, to be the one to support one of the people she loved most in the world, but something about Alex, though she hardly knew him, convinced her that she was, for once, better off leaving him to do her job. “Text me if you need anything, and I’ll do the same?”

Without another word to the pair on the floor, Sofi’s body language stiffened visibly as she approached the woman in the doorway. “I’d like to talk to you,” she said in a short and icy tone, leading her outside into the hallway without giving her room to decline. “I’m going to give you an opportunity to refute any claim I make, but I’m going to speak first.” She crossed her arms, light brown eyes staring directly into Sarah’s. “I think that since Rena returned from her few days away, she’s been different. In what capacity, I’m unsure, but she’s obviously reliving traumas neither of you are informed enough or qualified enough to handle. The more you both denied it, the worse she became, and eventually something happened that caused you to agree to get her help. Which, by the way, a psychiatric ward would not have been my first choice, but we can discuss that later. Because treating her like a crazy person was your solution, she is starting to become one, and instead of trying to fix it and get her better, the both of you have decided that the only way to control her and this situation is to continue to keep her locked up until she dies. On medications she’s allergic to, by the way. But you wouldn’t know that, because for a reason I just can’t seem to fathom, she doesn’t fully trust either of you. She’s hallucinating, and her heart rate is so low I’m surprised she’s still on this floor and not in the ICU.”

Though Sarah’s body language continued to escalate, her face getting redder and her lip quivering more earnestly, she allowed Sofia to get through her speech before she collapsed, sinking into a chair nearby and gesturing for Sofi to do the same. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I just- something wasn’t right with her, and Michael would rather ignore a problem until it demands attention than find a solution when it’s required. He was getting upset with her, and I just wanted it to work out between them. Rena is so good for Michael, he’s never found someone so…good, before. She says all the right things, she’s so accomplished, she’s everything he wants and needs. I just don’t know how to fix this for him. When she tried to give the ring back, he…didn’t take it well.” Her last words came with a lot of apprehension and discomfort, as if acknowledging that it happened made it more real. “He denied it happened at all and blamed it on her fragile mental state. But, I took the ring from her and tried to talk to him. I want what’s best for both of them, I just, you have to understand, my brother comes first.” Streams of tears had begun to fall down her face, and for a moment, Sofia’s empathy returned. “It wasn’t supposed to be at Rena’s expense.”

“You seem like a good person, Sarah. This isn’t your fault, but you have to understand that Michael’s happiness isn’t your responsibility. You can’t make a situation work out by controlling it, or by getting my sister to commit herself to a psychiatric ward and sedating her to get her to stay there.” Even as the words came out, they seemed so surreal that she almost laughed in disbelief. “So, Rena and Michael can deal with Rena and Michael’s relationship drama later, because that’s none of my business and, frankly, none of yours, either. My concern is with Rena’s wellbeing, and I would like to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

Sarah’s eyes begged for mercy from Sofia. “I can’t let you do that,” she whispered, “Michael doesn’t even know about this, let alone that. He doesn’t know I pulled the paper out of the trash, or that I found you guys, or-” She gestured to Rena’s room. “About them.”

“Rena’s not having an affair, if that’s what you’re concerned with. I don’t know what they are, really, but that hasn’t been going on. For as minimally involved in Rena’s personal life as I’ve been lately, I know for certain that she does love Michael and her intentions were good when she accepted his engagement. Last I heard from her, a few weeks ago, she was still planning on going through with the wedding. I didn’t know she gave the ring back, but I assure you he has nothing to do with it.” She wasn’t completely sure of this, but it felt comforting to say to someone who seemed to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown at any moment. She wasn’t surprised at all, however, when she received a disbelieving look in return. They’d both seen the same thing, and thought the same thing. And more than that, if you’re worried about Michael and whatever issues he obviously has, that needs to be dealt with outside of Rena. I know she puts herself in that role, but if the reason you’re so convinced they’re perfect for each other is because she’s become his therapist and accepts whatever behavior he’s using to suck the life out of both of you, maybe he should be the one on this floor. If he has any issues with me treating my sister like a human being, feel free to give him my phone number, and we can talk directly.”

Without another word, only a sympathetic smile that truly did extend an apology to Sarah for whatever trauma she clearly had as a result of the relationship she had with her brother, Sofia made her way down the hall to communicate with the doctor on staff, who had just emerged from one room or another, damning himself by making eye contact with the youngest Petrova and extending a small smile.

Meanwhile back in the room, Rena’s hand was limp in his. Softly, incoherently, she mumbled, “you can’t die, not yet, I haven’t… figured out… how to forgive… you.” A gentle, unassuming tear fell down her face, her eyelids heavy but fighting to open, if only for him. Anything for him, consciously or subconsciously. “Don’t…lie…to me. Everyone leaves…eventually.” It was a whisper, a mumble, something hardly comprehensible but surprisingly relevant to what he’d spoken, as if, if even for a moment, she’d come to from the horrible nightmare she was reliving.

It took another hour for the medication to wear off, which was spent in varying intervals between episodes of disoriented panic, hallucinations, and reliving some of the worst moments of her life on loop, and lifeless catatonia, the only time her eyes opened at all, though they were fixated on the ceiling, unmoving, unblinking, speechless, lifeless. Sofia had come in halfway through, physically nauseated by the level of pain that Rena had been enduring for an unknown period of time. “How much has she told you?” She replied during the midst of one episode. When the answer was something along the lines of ‘not nearly enough,’ Sofi took to explaining some of the moments to him, if only to break the silence and pass the time. Each time she lived another moment from her past, it had a very tangible effect on both of them, and it seemed better to talk through it. “That one was her mother. I couldn’t even tell you which moment, there are so many. Their mother despised both of them, though I am unsure of why. She loved her father more than anything, and he loved her just as much. Unfortunately, he is a mild-mannered man and allowed his wife to do anything she wanted.” When her mumbling turned to choruses of admitted innocence, Sofi added, “she is reliving when Ivan died, which must be why she has been trying to get you to find him. She protected her mother, even though everything that happened, but the few things we do know from that time are very bad. Maybe she will tell you more than we know one day, but basically her mother blamed her for her brother’s death, and then blamed her for every action that happened after. Lavinia is a very troubled woman, she hurt herself many times to varying degrees. I only witnessed it once, I can barely speak of it, even to this day. She looked Rena straight in the eye as she made deep gashes on her own arms with a kitchen knife, she told her it was her fault and that it was Rena’s presence that had caused her to do it. She told Rena to clean up the mess she’d made and hurt her when she tried to clean her mother’s wounds. I know there was much worse, but like I said, Rena’s loyalty is like no other. She would have died for that woman, even with everything she had done. Lavinia is and was pure evil.”

Not long after another episode came and went, this one clearly about something that had occurred between Rena and Max that Sofi went awkwardly silent through, Rena woke up groggily, coming to more coherence than she had in days. Another hand was holding hers, though for many moments she disregarded it as fiction. Everything she had lived for what felt like weeks had been fiction, why wasn’t this? Besides, the room was spinning as it always was when it was time for another dose of whatever they were using to keep her knocked out. She felt groggy and nauseous, she hadn’t eaten in days. Still, the next thing to come to her attention was a voice, two of them. Faintly, distantly, not like the ones in her mind that screamed at her day and night. They were above her, as if floating on the ceiling. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, as if they were speaking another language. That was what Viktor always sounded like when he spoke Spanish, and the thought of Viktor in the midst of an overabundance of medicinally-induced emotion caused tears to flood her face involuntarily. The hand moved, on its own, and for the first time it occurred to her that there was a presence beside her. She felt like she was swimming in a pool of gravity, each movement delayed and dizzying. Her eyes darted to the side of her vision the hand was on, searching for a body that might be attached to this floating hand. A familiar face lingered, one that made her heart race. She looked too fast, and she became nauseous again, so she closed her eyes, but when she blinked many more tears escaped. She got up in what felt like the fastest movement she’d ever made, crashing into the window in an attempt to get away from him. She cowered in the corner, completely filled with fear. “Y-you’re…not…real,” her voice trembled, everything in her body showing fear. “I know you’re not, you never are. I just have to bleed out again, and you go away.” Her hand shook, but she showed him the bandaged portion of her left arm, the bruises around it proving that this was definitely not the first day she had, as she put it, caused herself to bleed out. “I’m going to rip out my stitches now, and you’re going to go away.”

Sofi, sensing that if Rena were to discover a second presence, she might act impulsively, quickly instructing Alex to do something. “Do something, prove to her it’s you somehow,” she whispered frantically, terrified. “If she repeats this cycle, we’re going to have to let them sedate her again, and they won’t let her out until she proves she’s stable and coherent enough to make the decision for herself, which will never happen for as long as this happens.”

Drew Meyer | Reyes, Hunter

Drew’s hands had knotted his shirt into fistfuls of fabric. She kissed him as if they were the last two one earth, as if their survival depended on it, as if the world was ending. As if he was all she needed, all she’d ever needed. Maybe it had been careful at first, that awkward boundary-setting that always seemed to happen when it wasn’t a hook-up with a stranger, but they’d long since tossed caution to the wind. She couldn’t have said what might have happened if she hadn’t had a rare burst of common sense, or an equally unfamiliar need for purpose, but she refused to let this be a casual spur-of-the-moment event, not with Reyes. (That was still all she could think of, if her scattered thoughts could be called that. Between kisses, between breaths, in the minute gaps before they pulled closer: this was Reyes, this was Reyes, this was Reyes.)

“Hey, I’m not leaving. I’ve got you.” She laced her fingers with his. And then, because two consecutive sentences that could almost be called serious were as good as she got, she added, “though I seriously can’t promise I’ll keep to my word.” Glancing back at him expectantly - for what, she still hadn’t decided - with a slight smirk, she pushed him away. Somehow, though she couldn’t have said when or how it had happened, she’d ended up pressed against the wall. (Naturally, she wasn’t complaining.) “You’re coming outside, though. I make a rule of only breaking the rules when it’s fun…” Reaching around the door - thanking the gods under her breath that her roommate was a heavy sleeper - she fumbled for her phone and keys, almost knocking both off the desk in the process.

[Hunter] is reyes with you?

[H] sullivan said he left him here, but i can’t find him

[H] drew, i know you’re up, is reyes okay?

[H] just let me know if you see him. and please go to bed. i luv you <3

Drew stared at the already-lit up screen for a second. “Hunter,” she added, by way of explanation. She shrugged. “Worrying about something or other again, who knows.” She knew exactly what, but it didn’t feel relevant to the conversation. Clearing the notifications and slipping it into her pocket, she glanced up with a mischievous grin. “Ready?”

They stumbled along, arms intertwined, more to keep Drew from sprinting down the passage with the laughter she was barely restraining than to support the person who was drunk enough to actually warrant it. She hadn’t seen him drink before, other than a casual sip at some of the parties she’d dragged him to or forced him to stay at, and had no gauge of how he held his drink. The fact that he was drunk, drunk enough to show up outside her door and retract every word he’d said in the last twenty-four hours, drunk enough to willingly break the rules, was worrying in itself, but she chose not to think about that. He was here now, and that was all that mattered.

By the time she’d managed to unlock one of the back doors - six times lucky, in that case - and drag him down onto the damp grass, they were both out of breath. “So,” she began, twisting to face him. “What’s up?”

She couldn’t have named half of the things they spoke about, but that was half the point. With Reyes, it was easy. He was tired enough not to care that she was barely stringing logical sentences together, and tired enough to reply in just the same fashion. They’d covered the stars, their least favourite riders, and at least three philosophical concepts that made no sense when said out loud in the first hour; after that, she could barely say. Their opinions on who was definitely hooking up with each other had come up at some point - her opinion, mainly, and Reyes’ slightly more informed insight on dorm traffic - and she could vaguely recall mentioning the expanding universe, but everything was blurred into a dizzy, whimsical mirage of skin on skin, pointing to the stars with his hand, stolen kisses scattered between the rest. She blamed it on her lack of sleep, on the strange nature of 4am, on anything but something closer to the truth. They were friends, that was all.

The sun was just peaking above the horizon when she woke up, tangled in his arms for reasons she couldn’t remember in anything other than flashes and wasn’t fully sure that she wanted to. Drew lay there in silence for a few minutes, until she noticed his gaze on hers.

“Hey, sunshine,” she offered dryly. He didn’t look like he’d slept at all, he looked the closest to hell she’d seen him. “I texted Hunter, he’ll be here to drag you back to your room.” She didn’t say what she meant, that I don’t trust you to take care of yourself, I don’t trust you not to spiral further into self-destruction, I don’t trust you. “I need to go, though. False expectations of the model student and all, the usual.” As much as she was hungover, late or sleep-deprived half of the time, she prided herself in not missing out on her lessons. (She knew the instructors might appreciate it if she did opt out on times like those, which was half the reason she made sure to do it.)

“Let me know if you need anything, you know? I should probably get out of here though.” She ran her hands through his hair, staring at him with an unreadable defiance in her eyes. “You’ll be okay?” It wasn’t a question, not really.

“Anyway, I’ll see you,” she called over her shoulder, even though she was barely a few metres away and could easily have spoken at a normal level. “ Don’t screw yourself over too much while I’m not here to enjoy it!”