Chapter Text
With all the confidence of a newborn deer, Vanessa lifted her head and looked into his eyes. This was exactly what she feared: the slightest opportunity, a barely open door, and she would herself into a relationship no one wanted. She could hang on for a while, scrape the bottom of the jar for attention, but he wouldn’t want her. Not as long as she wanted him.
Except…
She didn’t need to beg this time. Quite the opposite; he’d met her halfway. He’d done all the work himself, and—what was he doing?
“I don’t think you’re paying attention,” he murmured, a smile creeping along his face. “All that effort just to get me here, and you’re not even looking.” He gently nudged her face upward. “It’s OK,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Nowhere else you’d rather be?” She breathed, barely aware she was talking.
“No. Not a place.”
It seemed...foolish to her, getting so worked up over looking at someone. She’d always felt the things she daydreamed about were so juvenile: hugs, careful kisses—like she’d never grown up.
But it couldn’t hurt to let herself be, just this once, could it?
So she looked at him. She stared into his eyes until she felt she might drown. He refrained from touching her, and she from touching him, and they got lost in each other for a few blissful, sheepish, confusing minutes.
And then they slept as though nothing had happened.
By the time Vanessa got up the next morning, Ethan had already left. He had early classes—enjoyed them, for some reason—and they fell into a routine of cautious glances and secret smiles. Which turned into a patchwork of inside jokes and dinners together.
Which turned into...friendship, really. The good kind. Getting out of bed each morning and turning to see Ethan’s comforter neatly turned back at the headboard—well, it brought her a kind of peace just to know his presence was so close. He softened all the corners of their room, a frequent enough visitor to push open that door and send her thoughts scattering with that simple, gorgeous smile of his.
Vanessa pulled up the blinds and checked her watch. She pushed the tab on the electric kettle and perched on the edge of her bed, empty cup cradled in her hand. What today? Mint, perhaps? Or chamomile? She longed for a full produce section; the quiet of her rural surroundings took the sting off her nightmares, but to start the day with chopped strawberries and fresh bread…
She flicked the switch and poured the water—earl grey; couldn’t go wrong with that. She opened her computer and clicked to her notes sheet. Where was she? Chapter three looked familiar, but it couldn’t hurt to look over it, again. Couldn’t be too familiar with the Christian afterlife, especially if you were the kind of person who saw ghosts on a regular basis.
She felt a twinge in her stomach as she remembered the letter. She hadn’t done much about its contents, other than think about it every once in a while, but Proteus couldn’t blame her, right? She’d needed the time for recovery, to pick her skills back up one by one. She could read most of the time, and her handwriting was reasonably neat, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was balancing on a thin wire, and soon enough, she’d be back chest deep, having to talk herself through showering and the ups and downs of the science buildings.
She looked at her desk drawer. The letter was just inside. Maybe it was time she gave it another read, started jotting down possible plans of action…
You have a test today, her anxiety nagged her. You could fail if you don’t study hard enough.
Vanessa sighed and packed her bag. Maybe it would be easier to focus somewhere else.
Ethan flicked through his notifications. The bustle of the servery swept like river currents around a rock, boisterous and colorful. There was something calming about having a place to stand in a place of such disorder, even if that place was in a stock-still line, the start of his next class plodding toward him minute by minute.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step forward. Just three more people and he’d be out of there.
“Jacob! What’s going on, man?” A tall boy in a red polo shirt slapped the shoulder of the student behind him. Ethan checked his phone again. He liked eating alone—always had—but the dining hall felt a lot more welcoming to groups. You had to be stealthy if you wanted to reserve a spot for yourself: a jacket casually piled on a chair would often do the trick, though some trusting souls left their phones behind. He’d tried silverware before and quickly learned you needed something more substantial. You had to offer up a piece of yourself to let everyone know you were serious.
Not a bad life philosophy, as far as corny phrases go.
“And for you, sir?” The voice called him back to reality.
“Oh, just plain for me. Thanks very much,” he added, calling over the hiss of the burner as she stirred the contents of the pan and scooped some into a bowl for him. She had burns on her arm—couldn’t be easy to work here. Wasn’t it dangerous to stand that close to the stove?
“Here you go. Have a nice day!” Ethan sprinkled some parmesan on his pasta and left the line in search of a quiet seat. Second floor, perhaps? Or were classes in session?
“Ethan!” Vanessa put her hand on his forearm, a pleasant smile on her face. “I’ve snagged a couch downstairs. Care to join me?”
“I should warn you now,” she said as they walked downstairs together, their footsteps almost in-sync. “I’ve got a test in an hour. Might not be talking much.” Ethan winced in sympathy.
“Ooh, can’t be fun. What’s it on?” He took a bite of pasta and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Hot this time. Not bad.
“Comparative religion. It’s…” She let out a slow sigh. “It’s interesting. Raises a lot of questions. Not the ones I think the professor is going for.”
“Why not? Subject like that, I’m sure he’s come to expect a lot of debate.”
“These are...personal.”
“Ah.” He leaned back, unwilling to push the matter. Vanessa looked down at her notebook, chewing on her thumbnail. Hang on—
“Are you eating anything?”
“What? Oh, I¬—” A faint blush crept into her cheeks, and she looked up at him, sheepish. “I wanted something, but my coordination is poor today. I don’t want to burn myself.”
Ethan resisted the temptation to take one of her hands in his own.
No one does.
Ethan glanced at the clock and carefully recapped his pen. The discussion straggled on, a weak point raised every now and then about the allusions or the meter, but the bulk of the class’s insight was spent. It was a waiting game at this point. One misstep and you’d be hurled in the midst of the hunting ground, young blood for a pack of callous veterans.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that ruthless. But it sure felt that way some days.
In any case, he’d made it out with barely a scratch. A few missteps in a class discussion wouldn’t ruin his day.
But they could.
He’d just talk: say something imperfect, not quite insightful enough, and it would all come rushing back.
“I raised a son, not a failure. You see this? You see this, Ethan? You wanna be worth something when you’re grown up? Huh?”
Ethan stopped on the middle of the sidewalk, his breath shaky. Calm down. You’re...you’re here.
Here, on a campus so small it only needed one of everything, one coffee shop, one library, one quad for the freshman and one for the science buildings. One dorm to bury your heartbreak in and one that would create you anew, with its warmth and its windows and its roommate who was kinder and funnier and more broken in the same places than you ever dared to hope.
All he had to do was remember where he was.
Vanessa pulled the door open. There he was, crown jewel of her thoughts, staring at a crack in the paint like he was contemplating the universe’s creation.
“Vanessa!” Ethan took a small package from the corner of his desk and held it out to her. “Got something for you. Thought you might...well, just open it.” She took it from him, gratitude brightening her eyes.
“Ethan! That’s so thoughtful, I—”
“I didn’t know when your birthday was. So I asked around, and—”
“May 3rd,” she said, smiling.
“—yeah, and that’s too far away to wait, so. This is just for, y’know. Being so kind to me.”
Ethan watched her fiddle with the loose edges of the wrapping paper. Her smile, at first pleasant and warm, froze, as though she were afraid of his reaction should it slip from her face and crack on the tile. Maybe gifts made her nervous. Maybe he was worrying over nothing. Maybe he was completely correct and she’d hate him after this. Maybe he didn’t really know her at all, and all the time spent together had been an illusion, an enchantingly realistic dream.
He rolled his eyes at himself. Maybe. Or maybe it’s Maybelline.
“Did you get me...a fidget?” She held a piece of cloth between her fingers and tugged on it gently. Reverently, as though she were in church, she put the fabric to her lips, her eyes closed.
Ethan swallowed. Inside of him, a braver version of himself pressed her hand in his and kissed her without a thought to the consequences.
“It’s perfect. No, really...no one’s ever gotten me something so comforting before.”
“You pull on the ends of your shirt sleeves a lot,” Ethan responded, holding his hands behind his back. “I thought it might help to…” He lost track of the sentences as she met his eyes. Gratitude sparkled there, along with joy, but what was behind it? A touch of playfulness?
“Vanessa…” He stopped. Started again. “You wanted to look at me that night, right? I didn’t make it up?”
Vanessa searched him. She could hide it. Yes, she certainly could make up some excuse. The possibilities were boundless: exhaustion, for one. Instability. Old habits. Stress.
But would that do her any good?
No one had ever entered her life with so much care before. To reject that would be like—
—like watching a part of yourself turn to dust.
“I didn’t.” She rubbed the cloth between two fingers and forced out the words:
“There’s something we should talk about.”