Chapter Text
10...9...8...7…
Meera came from somewhere behind and kissed Arya sloppily on the cheek before slipping back into the crowd.
6...5...4…
Jon cheered her with a beer from across the room. Sansa held confetti in her hand, a small piece already stuck to her lip gloss.
3...2…
Bran and Jojen creeped toward one another.
1…Happy New Year!
“Happy New Year, Stark,” Gendry said, staring at the crowd of cheering people alongside her.
She turned, reached up on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. By the time he looked toward her, she was already back to watching the crowd.
“Happy New Year.”
The street they walked across was cobblestone, making Arya have to watch her feet every few steps to protect her ankles. Sansa was doing it in heels, and Arya couldn’t even comprehend that. There were so many skills Sansa seemed to simply posses that Arya would never be able to grasp, though she didn’t much want to.
“How’s therapy going?” Sansa shifted her cup of coffee from one hand to the other.
Arya groaned. “Let’s not talk about it.”
Sansa shrugged. “As long as you’re doing better, and it’s helping you, that's what matters.”
The wind fluttered past, knocking some of the remaining winter chills into Arya’s side. The snow melted at their feet, marking the end of another season.
“It is.” Arya took a sip of her coffee, the warmth radiating through her body. It didn’t feel like a lie. Her mind felt uncluttered and focused, and while sadness still sat like a constant reaper over her, it was becoming smaller and smaller everyday. She was starting to feel like she could wake up and count on being able to breathe.
But there were still terrifying, huge things she knew she had to tackle if she wanted to continue moving toward something better. It felt as if after taking one huge step forward there were still a million more hurdles to jump over.
“Wait,” Sansa said, halting in her steps on the sidewalk. “Did I tell you Margaery and Meera totally hooked up?”
“I’m sorry, what ?” Arya asked, throwing a hand up into the air. “Next time, you need to open with the fun gossip and not make me trudge through a conversation about therapy before we hit this. Tell me every detail.”
Sansa giggled. “I woke up, and Meera was in the kitchen wearing one of Margaery’s sweatshirts and no pants.”
“She has no body shame,” Arya said, motioning with her hands for Sansa to continue.
“The best thing is it seems like Margaery really likes her.” Sansa pulled her pink jacket closer.
Arya watched her sister’s profile as they began to walk again, the wind whistling through their hair. There had always been a fine line in Margaery and Sansa’s relationship that Arya wasn’t sure she could define and didn’t want to ask about. Maybe it was more, but maybe it just was a strong, intense friendship. Being irrevocably in love with your best friends was a beautiful thing.
“And you’re good with that?” Arya asked.
Sansa looked up, maybe a little surprised at the openness Arya had with initiating a conversation like that. It seemed to surprise her every time it happened, and Arya tried to not be offended by that. It was in her nature to stay closed to emotional intimacy, after all. Her journey was still a long one.
“I’m good with it,” Sansa said. “I love Margaery deeply, but I don’t want to date her. I want her to be happy, and if she can do it with someone as wonderful as Meera, than all the better.” She took a sip of her drink, cupping her hands around the cup for warmth. “I don’t think I can get used to an emotional Arya.”
Arya scoffed. “Please don’t. She is a rare beast, and we don’t need to talk about her. It makes it worse.”
“Noted.” Sansa reached out, squeezing Arya briefly into her side.
They were more than their tragedies. They were bound together by family and love and an enjoyment of the other. It made Arya feel so proud of the woman beside her, and, dare she say it, proud of herself.
The day of Robb’s birthday, Arya woke from a dreamless sleep. She spent too long lying in bed as she stared at the ceiling. There was something about Robb’s death that had always haunted her differently. Maybe it was his own hand in it that made his birthday the hardest.
She was mad, really. Her and Jon had talked about it a few times, and she had spent a whole therapy session unpacking her strange and weird feelings of guilt and anger. The web of emotions she had revolved around Robb she was constantly untangling until she could feel somewhere in the realm of okay about it all.
The day after Rickon’s birthday, Arya had woken up to a text from Sansa. She had made an ornate cupcake—funfetti, like he liked—with a beautiful fondant dog Sansa must have spent hours crafting sitting guard on top. They had both partaken in tributes of some kind, and as Arya thought about it now it wasn’t the worst idea to get herself up and out of bed.
The darkness had never really made her feel better , just not worse. Sometimes, just nothing.
It was incredible how much showers had always made her feel better. In the moments of depression it seemed too much effort, but as soon as she got herself under the stream she at least felt a little more human. The water was too hot as Arya stepped underneath, but there was something about the sensation that kept her present.
Once she had cleaned herself up, she slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt from her gym. Luckily, Hot Pie wasn’t around so Arya had free reign of the kitchen without worrying about his fretful gaze. There was no way flour didn’t end up over every surface in the kitchen with the way she cooked.
First, she set up an old playlist of Robb’s. Then she looked up a recipe for chocolate cake on her phone. It looked simple enough, but Arya knew there was a good chance she would mess it up somehow.
After a few minutes, there were soft pads of feet down the hallway’s wooden floor. When Arya looked up, Gendry was watching her from the doorway.
“You want help?” he asked.
She shrugged, and he came closer. Together, they measured out the flour and the sugar. Gendry stirred the bowl while Arya sprayed down the cake tin. He clucked his tongue at her when she went to dip her finger in the batter, and she laughed at the sound.
“What do you do for your mom’s birthday?” Arya asked as they set the timer.
Gendry froze a little with the question, but he recovered quickly. “I like to go to this diner she used to take me to on Sundays for brunch. We didn’t have a lot of extra money lying around, but she had a friend in the kitchen who would put us together something lavish for fun. It was always a good moment there, no stress about money or bills. I go there and have some pancakes and figure out what to do with the rest of my day.”
Arya nodded, eyes trained on the oven. She took a deep breath and looked toward Gendry. He was strong and broad. His hair was a little messy as he had started to let it grow, and there was a fleck of flour near the right side of his mouth. Her heart constricted looking at him, thinking about all of the things inside of him she loved and appreciated.
She really hated acknowledging that. She really hated having to be anything more than a blade.
“We don’t talk about your mom much,” she said. “What was she like?”
“Kind,” Gendry said with a small smile. “Too trusting, probably.”
“Robb was too, I think,” Arya said. “He wanted to believe the best in people, almost to a fault.”
“Was chocolate his favorite?” Gendry asked.
Arya shrugged. “I can’t remember. Which I know sounds stupid because he hasn’t been gone that long, but I know Rickon’s was funfetti and my mom loved strawberry. I can’t remember if chocolate was my dad or Robb’s favorite. It kinda feels like admitting defeat if I ask, though.”
“Cake is cake,” Gendry offered, and Arya smiled at him. “Do you want to talk about us? About the porch?”
He looked earnest but without pressure. Arya pushed her hair behind her ears and thought about what her therapist would say. Just because I want you to be honest and have conversations, doesn’t mean you have to have them before you’re ready.
“I do,” Arya said. “Just not today.”
Gendry nodded. “Whenever you want.” He crouched in front of the oven, despite it still needing a good chunk of time, and watched the cake inside.
Bending down, Arya plopped down beside him on the floor. The two of them sat, staring at the cake rise as the smell began wafting through the room.
“My mom liked vanilla with buttercream frosting,” Gendry said.
Arya looked at the planes of his face, his profile. “When it’s her birthday, let’s make one together.”
He smiled at her, and she felt her stomach ease. “I’d like that.”
Meera stood in the living room with a workout bag over her shoulder, tapping her foot impatiently. “Come on, Arya. This is important so you are not going to be late.”
“You don’t have to come,” she said as she slipped into her tennis shoes.
“Not every day my roommate has a super cool outdoor class,” Meera said. “We’re supporting you.”
“We-”
Gendry and Hot Pie appeared from the hallway, both wearing athletic shorts and shirts. Arya wanted to groan, but she also couldn’t help but want to laugh.
“Guys! It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Dude, you’re partnered with a local fitness magazine! It’s cool!” Hot Pie said.
“Sansa, Margaery, and Jon are all going to be there, too. Don’t make it seem like we’re the only ones putting up a fuss,” Meera pointed out as she pulled Arya out the door. “It’s good to acknowledge your accomplishments.”
It had come out of nowhere, really. One day Arya was teaching a class with a few more students than normal, and the next she was getting a call from a local magazine about teaming up for an outdoor workout spring program they were starting up. It was all about young workout professionals who were doing interesting things, motivating people of all types.
“I just thought I was teaching,” Arya said to Gendry when she found out.
“Who knew you could touch hearts at the same time,” he said with a snort. Then he smiled at her, wide and uninhibited. “It’s because you’re good at what you’re doing.”
When they arrived to the park, Arya felt a bit of apprehension settle in. Her friends walked over to meet her siblings, Arya gave them all a wave, and she got outfitted with a headset microphone to teach her class.
It was a mixture of practical boxing moves (she had to switch the way her class functioned slightly without punching bags), self defense moves, and high intensity interval training workouts. Arya liked to try to keep it fun, but she also liked people to feel empowered. It was the same way she felt knowing she was strong, could take someone on and defend herself. She never wanted anyone to feel defenseless if she could help it.
Wonder why that is, she could almost hear a voice that sounded eerily like Sansa in the back of her head.
As she took stage, she felt her chest tighten. These were the moments she wanted her dad to be able to see. She would tell her mom all about it. Her family would be proud of the young woman she had become despite her rebellious youth.
She couldn’t stop herself from living because they weren’t here anymore, though. She had to live because they weren’t. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t imagine their pride, their joy at seeing her succeed. If she held that knowledge close to her heart, it still felt good.
“Welcome to class everybody! I’m Arya Stark, and are you guys ready to sweat?” she called to the lawn, watching the mass of faces that had turned up to workout with her.
The crowd clapped, screamed, and cheered. Arya couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well, let’s get to work then.”
The article they wrote about Arya was detailed, with pictures from the event and a few others they brought her in to pose for. When it was published officially a week afterward, Meera practically dragged the lot of them out to the bar.
“We are celebrating ,” she said with more enthusiasm than Arya was used to. The spring was energerizing her, as was Margaery.
Sansa, Jon, Bran and Jojen all met up with them at Brienne’s, and it was a proper evening out. Gendry even gave her a piggyback ride on the walk to the bar which she gladly took advantage of.
“Look at that! It’s our local celebrity,” Brienne said when they walked in. She pointed to behind the bar, where they had set up the magazine that held a picture of Arya. “Celebrities, as a matter of fact, drink free.”
“I like the sound of that song,” Arya said. “Your finest pint. And my friends may not be as famous as me, but I think I should treat them to a pitcher.”
Brienne shook her head with a laugh. “We’ll try to make it happen, Ms. Stark.”
The music was louder than it normally was, and Arya watched as Sansa couldn’t help but sway to the beat. She pulled in Margaery, the two of them moving, and when Brienne noticed she turned it purposefully up behind the bar. Meera laughed and joined, singing exaggeratedly and pointing at Hot Pie and Jojen.
It was crazy to think these people had all come together in only a year. Last spring Arya had been a shell of herself, desperate to forget everything. It had been her and the remaining Starks. There was no space for new people, but now her life was filled to the brim with people she cared deeply for.
Her eyes caught with Gendry a few feet down the bar, talking to Jon about something. He tapped at his pocket where she knew his cigarettes sat, and she smiled as she motioned for him to meet her out front.
He followed a minute later, leaning his back against the brick wall and lighting up a cigarette.
“I think this is going to be my last pack,” he said.
“What?” she asked as she grabbed the cigarette from his hand and took a long drag. “It’s our thing.”
He shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to find a new thing. I think we can manage that.”
“End of an era,” she said. As she passed the cigarette back to him their fingers grazed. “We’ve had a lot of good conversations over cigarette smoke.”
“And a few not so good,” he said. Her eyes were trained forward, watching another group of friends smoking and chatting. When she turned, his eyes were still on her. “Can I talk to you about that? You don’t have to respond, but I need you to know something.”
She swallowed, and her throat felt dry. After a beat, she nodded.
“I didn’t let you kiss me because I care about you,” Gendry said. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck and scratched at his hairline nervously before he stood back up straighter. “If this is going to happen, you and me, I need you to know that it isn’t a small thing. There isn’t any going back for me. It’s you and me, real feelings, serious. I like you too much to be a fling, and I wanted you to know that I’m willing to wait however long it takes. There’s just no middle ground, though.”
All of the dark thoughts she had had afterwards—he didn’t actually care for her, it wasn’t serious, he wasn’t attracted to her—were wiped from her mind. Sansa had been right. Gendry loved her in his own way, and he wanted all or nothing. Arya could appreciate that because she had never been one to half ass the things that mattered most to her.
Going in with all of her heart. It was the one thing that had scared her the most the last few years, but staring at Gendry she wanted nothing more than to do that. She wanted him fully and completely.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?” he replied. His face scrunched up, clearly nervous.
“I want that with you,” Arya said. “I just… I’m still working. I need to figure,” she paused to motion toward her chest, “all of this out. I’m still a mess.”
His eyes were trained on her face. “So am I.”
She paused, working her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ll wait?”
He pulled the cigarette from his lips and passed it to her, blowing the smoke away from the pair of them. “Arya Stark, you’re worth a little bit of fucking wait time. Just, don’t make fun of me forever for saying that.”
Laughing, she leaned into his side. “I can’t promise that.”
“Guess I shoulda known.” He watched as she scrunched the cigarette underneath her foot. “We have five more cigarettes.”
“I have a box with seven left,” she said.
“Thirteen more.”
He held out his hand, and she took it to shake. She wasn’t sure if it had more to do with their conversation or a pact with the cigarettes, but she figured she could make either work. Gendry was worth that.
Meera held out the popcorn bowl as they walked back to public transit, and Arya shook her head no. They had seen some action movie, rather subpar, but the company had been nice.
“You’re really going to be done with cigarettes? How are you going to escape us all at bars and parties now?” Meera asked.
“Am I going to have to actually talk to people?” Arya asked. “I’m not ready for that.”
“Growing up sucks.” Meera took a big handful of popcorn, crunching loudly as a few pieces fell to the ground. “Can you believe Margaery actually thinks I’m attractive? I’m disgusting.”
“Cute disgusting,” Arya said, reaching out to pinch at Meera’s cheek. Meera slapped her hand away. “My favorite disgusting.”
“I think she likes the lack of pressure, honestly.” Meera handed the popcorn off to Arya so she could throw her curly hair up into a bun. They stopped by the bus stop. “And I like her personality, and the way she makes lots of things I’ve never found fun before cool.”
Arya watched her roommate with a bit of awe at the way she was struck with love, how she had found two good things in such quick succession. Sure, Bran had ended poorly, but the two of them had been genuinely happy for some time. Now, they both had found happiness somewhere else.
“How are you able to go from Bran and jump wholeheartedly into Margaery?” Arya asked.
“I like love,” Meera said with a shrug. “I like having genuine connections with people in my life, and I’m not going to shy away from them because bad stuff happens. I don’t think I ever told you this, but Jojen was really sick for a while when I was a teenager. There was a time where I thought I had no left with him, and then he pulled through healthier than he had a right to be, and I realized it’s all pointless to waste time when I don’t have to. I’d rather get hurt and succeed then feel nothing at all.”
It reminded Arya of the conversation she had with Gendry months ago. How they had both spent so long feeling nothing because it seemed easier. In the end, though, that nothing was fine but it was still nothing. She didn’t want to skate through her life without meaning anymore if she could help it, and it would always be hard battling with her depression and anxiety. There wasn’t a way for that to simply go away, but she was trying.
Through therapy and working on being more emotionally open, she was attempting to make her life different. She was trying to make it healthier, so that when shit hit the fan she had some coping mechanisms in place. Maybe it would be easier to bounce back if she adjusted some things around.
“I can’t be the first person to tell you that in your life, though. I mean, can I?” Meera asked.
“No, you’re not,” Arya said. “It doesn’t hurt to hear good lessons repeated, though.”
“God, I should be a teacher with all this wisdom I have to throw around. Where are the children?”
“Um, you also need to teach something, like a subject.”
Meera waved it away with her hand. “Semantics.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Arya said as she finally shoved the popcorn tub back into Meera’s arms.
The other girl smiled and laughed, the two joining together. When the bus came, they got on and headed home.
“I don’t like the dresses,” Arya said as she stomped her feet. “Just because Sansa wears them doesn’t mean I should be forced to.”
“Don’t you want to look pretty?” Ned asked as he bent further down, adjusting his suit jacket as he did so. “Your mother picked this one out special.”
“If wearing a dress is the only way to be pretty, then I don’t wanna.” She crossed her arms and huffed the hair out of her eye line.
“Darling,” Ned said, reaching out to grab onto her upper arms. “You’re beautiful no matter what you want to wear, and you’re more than just being pretty. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Why don’t we find you a nice pair of pants, yeah? No dress.”
“Really?” Arya asked. She leaned forward and clasped her tiny arms around his neck. “I’m going to be strong and brave and you’ll never have to worry about me.”
“I’ll probably worry about you at least a little, but that's what dads do. We love you until the day we die, and then we love you some more.”
Arya’s eyebrows scrunched together and her lips pursed. “But you’re not going to die soon, right?”
"Not for as long as I can help it.”
It was still dark, and Arya reached to her side for her phone. It rang twice before Bran answered.
“Hello?” His voice was bleary, a little sleepy. “Is everything okay?”
“Did I wake you?” Arya asked.
“I wasn’t quite asleep yet,” Bran said, and the rustle of him adjusting in bed could be heard over the line. “What’s up?”
“I keep having these dreams, flashes from when we were younger. It’s been happening all week,” Arya said. “I can’t sleep properly.”
Bran was quiet as he thought. It was funny how even over the phone Arya felt as if she could hear his cogs turning, his brain working.
“When was the last time you went to see them?”
Their funerals. “It’s been a while.”
“I go and just talk. Maybe you need to go see them. It might help.”
“Maybe…”
“That or maybe you just need some asmr to lull you–"
“Oh fuck off. I’ll never listen to that shit,” Arya replied.
Bran laughed, and Arya joined him. “Why don’t you tell me about your dreams, then.”
Arya breathed deep. “Okay, well tonight it all started with dad…”
“You know, Arya,” her mother said as she combed through her hair. It was knotty, and with every few brushes Arya pulled back with a hiss, “some day you are going to meet someone who you won’t think is icky.”
“They’re all icky. The boys don’t even let me talk about the sports games because I’m a girl.”
“It might seem crazy, but you could fall in love someday,” her mother said.
“Sansa can fall in love,” Arya said before making a blegh sound. “I don’t want it.”
Arya reached into the cupboards and pulled out a bowl for cereal, which she heartily filled. As she ate her breakfast, she walked around the apartment in search of her tennis shoes. Gendry was at the kitchen table, and he looked up from the newspaper he was reading to roll his eyes at her.
“You left them by the bathroom last night ‘cause you came home and said you couldn’t talk to anyone until you’d showered.”
“Thanks,” she said, setting down the cereal bowl to go retrieve them quickly and slip them on her feet.
“You have any plans after work today?” Gendry asked. “Some people from the shop were going to go get drinks.”
“Um…” she trailed off as she grabbed the cereal bowl back up. “I’m actually going to go visit my family’s graves, I think. It’s been a while.”
“You want any company?” he asked casually, like she was saying she was going to the grocery store or something similarly as quotidian. “I don’t have to go get drinks.”
“No,” she said. “I think I want to do it alone. I don’t need a babysitter.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and he rolled his eyes.
“Fine, fine. That's the last time I’m nice to you.”
“Fat chance,” Arya said with a smile. “You’re a sucker who can’t fight my charms.”
He stood up and set down the newspaper, grabbing his light jacket from the back of his chair. “I’m going to work. You can keep bantering with yourself if you like, since you’re having so much fun.”
“Have a good day. Fix lots of cars,” she said as he grabbed his keys.
“Yeah, yeah. Call me if you need me.”
The graveyard was brighter than Arya remembered, though that could have more to do with the sunny day outside and the fallibility of her memory than anything else. She had to stop to ask directions because the yard was so large and she forgot how to get to the section with her families graves, but after a few failed attempts she was able to stumble upon them.
Ned Stark. Catelyn Stark. Rickon Stark. Robb Stark.
They all sat in a row, still looking fresh and clean, though grass was growing over all of them now. Arya sat a flower down on top of every grave, and then she sat herself down in the middle of them all.
“Hi guys,” she said, feeling silly. “This is kinda stupid, but I thought I would give it a try. I guess I never came because I knew you weren't actually here. It seemed pointless.”
Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped. Arya watched the graveyard around her, noticing all the empty graves and long-gone people. There were so many ended lives around her, and maybe it was macabre, but there was something calming about that. The simplicity that everyone ended up in the same place at the end of it.
“It’s been hard,” Arya said. “I guess for a long time moving on felt like forgetting you all or betraying your memory or something, and I didn’t know how to be Arya without all of you. I’m working on it, though. Moving on and all that.
“I don’t think I can exist the same without you. I’m different, but I think you’d like who I’ve become. I’m starting to. And I met this boy? Mom, you probably would have hated him at first actually. Dad, you’d have a riot with him.
“He’s going to be around for a while, and if you don’t like it you can all just shove off. Though I do hope you grow to like him as much as I do. He’s a good person, and he loves me for some reason. Guess you were right, mom. I met someone who wasn’t icky. Right inconvenient that can be.
“I won’t waste your time, but I hope you know I love you all. Maybe I’ll come say hi again, I don’t know. Hey, maybe I’ll try to bring him along. We’ll see. Have a nice day and all that.”
Arya sat for a few moments longer as the sun began to set, but before it got too dark she set out with one last goodbye. It was nice, but she was tired of hanging out with ghosts today. She actually wanted to be around other people.
Instead of heading home, she headed somewhere else. She hadn't called ahead, but she had a feeling it was okay. As she knocked on the apartment door, she shifted from foot to foot.
Jon opened it. “Arya?”
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Always,” Jon said, stepping to the side. “Sansa’s already over.”
Arya walked toward the living room, spotting Sansa on the couch. Her sister waved, and Arya jumped onto the couch next to her.
“Why, hello,” Sansa said with humor in her voice. “What brought you over this evening?”
“I went and visited them,” Arya said. “I guess I just didn’t feel like being alone right now.”
Jon came to Arya’s other side, falling into the couch beside her. They fit perfectly the three of them.
“We were debating between pizza or sushi.”
“Yuck, pizza obviously,” Arya said.
Sansa rolled her eyes. “I would have worn Jon down, you know. Now he’s going to side with you.”
Jon shrugged. “Majority rules?”
“Fine, but I get to pick movie.” Sansa reached her hand out for the controller, and Jon willingly handed it over.
Arya stuffed herself further into the couch, listening as Jon and Sansa bantered back and forth. It felt comfortable. It felt like home.
12 cigarettes left.
“I can’t believe you had one without me,” Gendry said with a roll of his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but this is a hard craving to knock.”
11 cigarettes.
They leaned up against the side of the bar, passing the cigarette between them. Arya reached out, touching the divet in his cheek.
“You have a dimple, you know. Just one right here when you smile.
He smiled wider at the comment, pulling the cigarette from between his teeth. “You watching me when I smile, Stark?”
She shrugged. “Only every once in a while. When everything else is really fucking boring.”
10.
“I’m just saying…” Arya said, leaning over their railing. “I really, really don’t want to have to start talking to other people again. It’s so much work. ”
He chuckled. “We can do it together. Don’t be such a baby.
9, 8, 7.
“What did you think of me when you first met me?” Gendry asked. They were sitting on the stoop outside of Jojen’s apartment. The sun was still setting, casting a yellow glow over them.
“Feeling a bit nostalgic, are we?” she asked, taking a puff of the cigarette and passing it back. “I thought you were tall and broad. You seemed a bit distracted, maybe. Like you were tired.”
“I needed a roommate, and I was tired of people flaking out on me,” he said. “I could tell you were tough as nails the first time you walked in through the door.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
He nodded. “You have this energy, compact and intense. It’s almost scary, but you also looked kinda sad.”
“I was always sad, then,” she said.
“And now?” he asked. “What’s the ratio?”
The yellows began to turn more pink, streaking the sky. Arya thought it made Gendry’s skin look rather nice.
“I’m still sad, sometimes, but I’ve got a lot of things to be happy about I guess. I can’t believe you guys made me like you all, now I have to go and talk to strangers at parties. It’s disgusting.”
He laughed, head thrown back and cigarette dangling from between his weathered fingers. Arya had the strangest, warmest feeling of never wanting to be anywhere else. Of no other sound feeling quite so familiar.
6, 5.
“You’re absolutely pissed,” Gendry said, trying to hand her a drink of water.
“You just tripped over your own foot. Don’t lecture me,” she said with an aggravated swing of the cigarette.
4, 3, 2.
The sounds of Sansa and Jon arguing as they worked at the grill in the park fluttered across the wind, light and airy. It was intercut with laughter, and Margaery kept throwing remarks their way. Meera and Jojen threw a ball back and forth.
“You’ll still talk to me when they’re all gone?” Gendry asked, a joking smile on his lips.
“The cigarettes?” she asked. She whistled low and long, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I might need another vice to get through your presence, sugar perhaps? I’ll figure it out.”
He hit her shoulder with his. “You’re still just as much a brat as the day I met you.”
“I keep you on your toes,” she replied.
He looked at her with admiration and fondness, a twinkle in his eyes. “That you do.”
1.
They sat on their porch, alternating between a bottle of beer and the last cigarette. They had been saving it for a moment reserved only for the two of them, and this friday everyone else was out of the apartment.
“Do you want the last drag?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You take it.”
He held the cigarette delicately between his lips, almost as if it was a religious experience, and took a long pull. When it was over, the smoke drifted into the wind and disappeared.
“A bit anticlimactic?” he asked.
She shrugged, watching the snub join the rest in the ashtray. They watched the street, though nothing was happening. A song filtered out from the speaker in the kitchen, and Gendry was humming along underneath his breath. There was a streak of oil underneath his left ear, and Arya had to tighten her hand into a fist to keep from reaching out.
“I’m going to always be a bit depressed, or like, always be dealing with it I mean,” Arya said.
Gendry paused, looking over at her with a raised brow. “Okay.”
“I’m never going to be perfectly nice. I’ll mess up a lot, because I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m forever a mess. Just so you know.” Her throat got tighter, feeling closer to something she couldn’t quite name.
“That's okay,” he said with a gentle smile. His lips spread slowly across his face, making his eyes light up with the action. “Believe it or not, I love you for everything you are Arya Stark.”
“I love you, too,” she said, and she hated that she could feel a small wetness grow at the corner of her eyes. “I really do.”
“Don’t run,” he said in a whisper, pushing himself up from his chair.
She nodded, sitting up as he took a tentative step toward her. “I’m not a wild animal,” she argued halfheartedly.
“Aren’t you?” he replied, bending forward to be at eye level.
His hand reached out to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it. She bent forward until their foreheads were touching.
“I hate feelings,” she said.
“I know."
“But I love you.”
The smile that itched at his lips was contagious. “I know.”
Arya reached an arm around his neck, and then they were kissing. Gendry was gentle, the two of their lips meeting slowly, but then it was more. It had taken them a whole year to move to this point, and Arya so quickly wanted more. Everything.
She was ready for it, and she was glad she had waited to be sure of that.
“I’m an old man,” Gendry said as he pulled back. “I cannot stay squatted like this.”
“Then into the living room we go, grandpa.”
He hoisted her up, and she yelped before throwing her head back with laughter. Gendry carried her like she weighed nothing, which in comparison to him she did. She liked leaving kisses onto his neck, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder, and tickling his ears with her hair.
“Worth every minute of waiting,” he teased as they fell onto the couch.
“Yeah?” she asked.
He nodded seriously, kissing her temple before moving to the corner of her mouth and leaving a kiss there, too. “Yeah.”
The doorbell rang, and Arya reached out to grab at Gendry’s waist as he moved.
“Don’t go.”
“Arya,” he said, wrapping his arms around her own where they laid around his torso. “If you want food, then I have to go to the door.”
She whispered dramatically. “What if you never come back. ”
“And people say Sansa is the dramatic one. You’d walk around in costume all year if it was okay. I’ll be back in just a second, and then we don’t have to leave for the rest of the night.”
“Fine,” she said, bending forward to kiss the divet in the middle of his back. He stepped out of the room, and she flopped onto her stomach. “Don’t forget the soda!”
He laughed, and she sank further into his sheets. Blissful. Content.
“How have you been this past week, Arya? Anything interesting pop up?” Her therapist took a sip from her mug, watching her over the rim.
“Some things happened,” Arya said as she worked her hands in her lap. “I’m happy.”
“But?” Her therapist asked. “You look like there’s a but.”
“I don’t know if I really know how to be happy,” she said after a beat.
Her therapist nodded, taking the information in and setting her tea down. “It’s hard for us to let ourselves be happy sometimes, especially after everything we’ve been through. Being happy doesn’t mean everything is going to magically get better. You’re still going to face dark moments, but you can let the happy spots be happy.”
Arya paused as she thought over the idea. Gendry made her happy. Her roommates made her happy. Everyone in her life added something unique and special. Happiness was hard for her to grasp, but after everything she had been through maybe it was time for her to finally fully accept she could deserve this.
Let the happy spots be happy. Her mother would have told her to open her arms, and if it didn’t sound so goddamn cheesy, she would probably have agreed out loud to do just that.
“I can’t believe you don’t want to play,” Sansa said as they sat on the bleachers, watching the others play an impromptu game of soccer.
“Maybe in a few minutes, but I wanted to sit with you first.” She didn’t want Sansa to sit alone in the stands, seeing as Bran hadn’t made it here yet. Plus, she didn’t mind watching the rest of them play for a little while.
“Arya!” Gendry called, waving her out. She shook her head with a laugh, and he jogged over. “Come on. I need my right flank.”
“More like you’re my right flank,” she said. The sun beat down, and she threw her sweatshirt off. It was starting to grow hotter every day.
“It’s almost summer.” Gendry shielded his eyes as he looked up into the sky.
“I think we’re going to have a good one,” she said, and when he looked back at her she smiled.
“Better if you came to play.” She shook her head no again, and he bent forward to press a kiss to her lips. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder.
“Oh my god, you guys are sickening. Go out and play already,” Sansa said, but Arya looked up from her place over Gendry’s shoulder to see her smiling, waving them on.
Hot Pie ran over to sit with Sansa, and Arya paired up across from Meera as soon as Gendry let her down.
“You ready?” Meera asked.
Arya looked around her, positioning her feet to be sturdy. The sun filtered across them all, powerful and warm. It was the beginning of something new but familiar.
Nodding, she smiled wide. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”