Chapter Text
Oona doesn’t know how to react, so she doesn’t. Not verbally, at least, but she can’t do much about the prickly sensation nipping at her hands as she struggles to hold on to the basket full of goodies—and now a bottle of wine—with white knuckles.
Ramona is mid trying to bag the snacks and drinks for her when she tries to process everything as well. She’s never liked Oona’s mom. She’s only met her a few times—and truth be told she’s never done anything that notable in front of her—but every time Oona was around her mother Ramona could see her friend’s heart breaking chip by chip in real time with false hope and promises.
And that made Ramona despise Oona’s mom.
Over the years, Oona would act unfazed. She’d mention her mom here and there like it didn’t matter, but shy away from talking about her mom in any type of serious conversation about how she herself felt.
She’d gotten good at hiding the sadness in her gaze and a few times, Ramona almost believed her. A lot of the time Oona just seemed…dissociated from everything. But Ramona knew—and knows—Oona liked to bottle things up and pretend they weren’t there.
Which becomes a lot more difficult when her mother is actually physically around.
As soon as Ramona hears the mention of Oona’s mother, she finds herself staring at Oona to try and gauge her reaction.
To anyone else, Oona would have looked fine. But Ramona knows her better than everyone else, even after months of being away.
She sees it in the way the taller girl’s jaw clenches ever so slightly as she bites down like she’s physically absorbing the shock of it all.
She sees it in the pure surprise in her eyes, widening an almost unnoticeable amount. Then there’s the way she stops breathing for just a moment, before taking a far too slow breath to compose herself.
Ramona sees all of it, even if anybody else would see none of it.
Then Oona’s giving Sully’s mom a polite smile with a “Thanks, I’ll tell her you said that,” but Ramona isn’t fooled.
Still, she lets her gaze linger for only a moment before packing up the rest of the items as Oona ditches the basket.
They leave the store, walking side by side as they make their way back to the hill to get back to the others.
Ramona can’t stop staring at Oona, trying to figure out whether or not she should ask the burning questions on her tongue.
She notices Oona’s tensed shoulders and her gloved fingers playing with her coat sleeves anxiously—and though she can’t fully see Oona’s mouth from this angle, she’s almost sure she’s biting the inside of her lower lip.
“Hey, um,” Ramona clears her throat bravely, prompting Oona’s heart to pick up a beat. She’s been hoping they could just walk in silence and act like nothing had happened.
“We should stop at the cottage first, drop everything off,” Ramona continues, searching for an excuse for Oona’s sake so she doesn’t have to face the others right now, especially Maple. Ramona grabs at the hem of her own soaked coat with her free hand not holding the bag, an annoyed frown donning her face. She adds, “I also honestly am kind of over this jacket. We should just chill and wait for everyone there.”
Oona’s shoulders relax and pure relief overtakes her. She really is grateful for the girl next to her, but tries to play it cool like she doesn’t care either way. Ramona knows she does.
“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”
- - -
The rest of the walk to the cottage is fairly quiet. Once they get there, Ramona fumbles with her keys a bit in the cold before finally pushing the door open.
It’s completely empty, much warmer than it is outside, and something about it just feels so safe to Oona. Being there with Ramona only adds to that.
She feels like she can breathe here, which wasn’t the easiest endeavor on the walk over. She blames that fact on the cold.
They’re both kicking off their boots, taking off their coats and extra layers, gloves, hats, anything covered in snow.
Ramona drops off the grocery bag on the counter as Oona throws herself down on the couch, tired. Between not sleeping too long—or well—and the long day of walking and sledding, she’s beat.
Ramona makes her way over to the couch, throwing her a bag of chips that lands unceremoniously on her lap when Oona doesn’t even bother to try and catch it. She just slouches against the sofa, the edges of her facade starting to slip away as she stares at the ceiling.
“You good?” Ramona asks, still standing up.
Oona doesn’t even think she has the energy to lie, so she doesn’t.
“Exhausted,” she replies honestly.
Ramona contemplates the armchair for a second before settling down on the couch next to Oona. She leans an arm on the top of the back cushion, sitting with crossed legs atop the couch and staring at her…friend? She doesn’t really know what Oona is to her right now. ‘Friend’ doesn’t feel very accurate, but ‘ex’ doesn’t quite seem right either.
Oona can practically feel Ramona’s burning gaze on her, but she tries to ignore it as she just keeps staring upward.
Ramona knows she should let her be, that she probably doesn’t want to talk about it. But she also knows she loves Oona very much, even when they aren’t together together, and doesn’t want her to think whatever she’s thinking alone. She’s about to mention it when, much to her surprise, Oona does first.
“It’s just,” she starts, exasperated. “Of course I want her back here. Maple will be ecstatic,” she pauses. She sucks in her lips, tilting her gaze down a bit to stare forward, her eyebrows furrowing as she draws her arms in on herself and shrugs. “For now. Until she-“
Oona stops herself, afraid to speak it into the universe.
“Until she what?” Ramona pushes gently.
“Leaves again.”
There’s a short silence, then Oona turns to look at Ramona. The gaze that Ramona returns is almost too soft—Oona worries that the pure care staring back at her will make her cry if she sees it for too long. So, she diverts her view pretty quickly.
“She kind of sucks,” Ramona replies. The bluntness takes Oona off guard, eliciting a chuckle from her. She gets stuck in thought, though, the smile fading.
“She’s not all bad, y’know,” Oona claims, her brows scrunched. Ramona isn’t quite convinced, so Oona continues. “I think she just…doesn’t really know how to do all this.”
Oona’s mother reminds her of herself, she thinks vaguely. Things got tough with Ramona and she let her issues get in the way of being with someone she loved. How is she any better?
“I don’t think that’s a good excuse to not try,” Ramona’s lips curl, her nostrils flaring briefly. “Like, the bare minimum she can do is stay.”
And then, just for a second, Oona wonders if Ramona’s thinking about the two of them too.
Oona dares to look at her again, her own eyes glinting a little—there’s a glassy look to them as water threatens beneath the surface.
There are a lot of things Oona doesn’t know how to do either. She bitterly wonders if that’s genetic.
She also selfishly wishes both her mom and Ramona would stay.
“Hey,” Ramona feels a pang in her chest, her voice quiet and raspy as if she can hear Oona’s thoughts. She can get the gist pretty well by the way Oona’s forehead curls up and her breathing quickens, as if she’s trying her best not to cry.
Ramona takes her arm off the top of the sofa, using both arms to scoot herself closer to Oona. As soon as her knee makes contact with the outside of Oona’s thigh, the taller girl finds herself melting into her open embrace.
Oona twists her body to wrap her arms around Ramona’s neck, nuzzling her face into the latter’s shoulder. She breathes her in, and even in the smothered position it feels like her lungs finally start getting real oxygen.
The shorter girl wraps her own arms around the small of Oona’s back. Ramona tries to ignore how for the first time since the summer, something deep inside her settles.
To Oona, Ramona feels too soft again. But she can’t get herself to pull away just yet. In fact, she pulls her tighter, her hands grabbing at the collar of Ramona’s shirt as she slows her breathing. Her lip quivers and her eyes water, but she doesn’t let any tears fall just yet.
When Oona does finally pull away, it feels as if something’s shifted between them. Their touches linger comfortably, and Oona immediately misses being held.
It scares the fuck out of her.
Before she can dwell on it too deeply, Oona’s getting up from the couch awkwardly, running a hand through her hair as she clears her throat.
She wants to run, or push Ramona away. But then she looks at Ramona, who while a bit confused is still looking at her with such warmth in her gaze that Oona wills herself to just try.
“Sorry, I, um,” she starts, playing with her hands nervously.
“No, it’s,” Ramona stands up as well, “it’s fine. You’re good.”
Oona tries to shake off the nerves, going to say something else or explain herself or apologize again, she isn’t quite sure. Her voice catches in her throat, though, looking at Ramona again as she lets out a quick breath.
“Fuck it, d’you want some wine?” She asks, nodding to the new wine bottle on the counter from Sully’s mom.
“Fuck yeah,” Ramona shrugs.
- - -
The alcohol certainly doesn’t help with the exhaustion, but Oona and Ramona are giggling on the couch wine drunk, and Oona can’t find it in herself to care about the sleepiness nipping at her brain.
They’ve been exchanging stories for a while now: Oona about Sterling Point and Ramona about New York. Oona’s hand rests playfully on Ramona’s knee as they sit by the fireplace; their cheeks are rosy and warm enough from the alcohol that they let the fireplace die out a while ago.
The others haven’t come back yet, a fact they’d both be minorly worried about if not for the tipsiness and general fuzziness dulling their senses.
The wine bottle isn’t quite empty yet, maybe only three quarters of the way so, but they’ve ditched the wine a while ago—two half empty fancy wine glasses that Ramona scrounged from the back of the cabinets sit atop the fireplace mantle.
It’s getting dark out by now—the orange hues of the sunset making for a pretty good view from the window—but neither is really sure how much time has passed. They’re both too caught up in the moment, touchy and unfiltered in their tipsy states.
Ramona makes a bad joke here and there, and Oona laughs at each one; her laugh lights up the entire house, Ramona swears.
Oona’s red cheeks even bring out her eyes. When they scrunch up along with her nose in a giggling fit, it feels like everything is right in the world.
Everything starts to feel a little more crowded, though, when the door to the cottage opens and familiar faces walk in.
It’s just Annie, Connor, and Maple.
“Oh!” Annie yips as the living room comes into view, spotting Oona and Ramona at the fireplace.
“Well hello to you, too,” Ramona tries to get up, swaying a bit and taking a second to do so successfully. Annie widens her eyes in concern.
“Are you two drunk?” Maple asks, taking a few hesitant steps toward the two girls. Oona hasn’t even tried to stand up yet.
Ramona blows out a quick breath, looking upwards as she dramatically searches for an answer. She starts nodding, “Yeah, yup, I’d say so.”
Oona—who has been sitting quietly on the floor looking up at everyone curiously—finally goes to get up. She has even more trouble than Ramona did, almost completely falling over before Ramona puts out a hand to catch her by the stomach. Oona chuckles, standing upright and then reaching for her glass from the mantle. She gets halfway through a sip before Maple walks over, snatching the wine glass out of her hand.
“Uh, rude,” Oona snarks. She catches the serious look on Maple’s face, immediately trying to will herself to focus and sober up.
“Mum’s back,” Maple blurts out.
Oona feels herself sobering up even more, but she’s still pretty tipsy, and her tongue is loose.
“Yeah, I know, I was-“
“You knew?” Maple immediately looks hurt, the inflection of her voice also sounding quite angry.
“Uh,” Oona tries to shake the fuzziness out of her head before replying further, squinting her eyes. “Yes, but-“
“And you didn’t come tell me?”
“Maple, we just found out,” Ramona cuts in. She sounds much clearer and attentive now, but the quickness of her voice reminds everyone she is in fact still tipsy.
”We? So you both knew?”
Oona feels her head getting hot, the panic rising pretty quickly as she struggles to figure out what to say.
“Sully’s mom told her, by accident, at the store,” Ramona clarifies. She’s slurring her words a bit, but she’s trying for both her and Oona’s sakes to help as best she can.
“That was hours ago!” Maple’s voice is exasperated.
“Kinda fucked up,” Connor chimes in ever so helpfully. Annie nudges him.
Annie walks over carefully, trying to de-escalate. She grabs the glass from Maple, putting it back on the mantle before it spills.
“Why don’t we all, just, take a breath,” she offers.
Maple doesn’t listen, shooting glares at her older sister.
“We waited for you at the hill, we looked for you on the pier, and you were just here, getting drunk?”
Maple’s practically yelling now. Oona stays quiet, freezing as she just looks back at her sister like a deer caught in headlights. She figures Maple found out about their mother’s return the same way she did, from Sully’s mom at the shop. Her eyes start to sting with guilt. Maple’s right—she should’ve gone straight to the hill to tell her. She feels selfish for coming back to the cottage in the first place, though she really was planning on telling Maple as soon as they got back. She had also kind of just figured everyone would assume they did come here, didn’t really think too much into it. She feels guilty for that, too.
“Maple, ease off,” Ramona tries, catching Oona tearing up.
Maple does seem to back off, just a bit, but she still looks incredibly angry.
“You should’ve come told me,” she asserts, turning around to run past the others and go back outside. She throws the door open, and a rush of cold shoots in that Oona didn’t feel when the others entered not too long ago.
Oona’s ears ring as she almost forgets how to breathe, but seeing Maple run outside is enough for her protective instincts to fire up and finally gain control of her voice and body.
”Shit,” she mutters, going to follow her sister out. She doesn’t even grab her coat on the way into the sunset.
Ramona tries to follow as well, but Annie gets in the way to stop her.
“Just let them work it out,” Annie implores.
Even in her not fully sober state, Ramona knows Annie is right.
It still takes everything inside of her to not run after Oona.