Chapter Text
Honestly, it didn’t much matter to Arya all the tiny details about the apartment he was rattling on about. If it wasn’t there, it would just be somewhere else. Her standards weren’t high—somewhere away from the stretch of her family, somewhere she didn’t see Robb around every corner, somewhere she could try to breath. Just for a little bit, before the crippling weight fell back onto her shoulders like it had never left.
“There’s laundry right in building, just down in the basement—”
Arya stepped away from the man to pace the kitchen, turning back around to see the sliver of a view to the living room. It was quaint, but more in a charming way then anything else. The man stopped talking, sensing she wasn’t much paying attention anyhow. He was tall, broad with dark hair and bright blue eyes. There was something intimidating in his posture, yet she couldn’t find it anywhere in his actual demeanor.
“You don’t give a shit about any of this, do you?” he asked out of the blue, his shoulders dropping slightly.
She shook her head no. “Not really. I’ll take it, though.”
His eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. “You want the room?”
Nodding, Arya found a small smile on her lips. “When can I move in?”
His name was Gendry. Arya would repeat it in her head several times just to make sure she didn’t forget it, and he wasn’t the only occupant of apartment 418 to remember, either.
The third room belonged to a boy who seemed to unironically go by Hot Pie. Chubby with curly black hair, he carried himself as though he wasn’t quite sure how he fit into his body. He seemed nice enough though, albeit a little clueless, and wouldn’t shut up about baking when Sansa asked in an attempt to be polite.
The fourth and final roommate was Meera Reed. Arya had only met her while she moved in, and the other girl was on her way out to see her brother, but she assumed they could live together easily enough. Arya had never gotten along with other girls that well, but she had a good feeling about Meera with her unkempt dark hair and casual style.
“You sure you’re good here?” Sansa asked as she plopped down on the bed she had just finished making perfectly. Arya didn’t much see the point of making beds when you were just going to mess them up in a couple hours, but she appreciated the gesture anyways. “You could just live with Marg and me for a bit until you find somewhere better.”
Arya shrugged. “It’s fine here.” While Sansa and her relationship had grown since graduating from their childhood home into the buds of adulthood, Arya couldn’t deny that the mothering of her older sister was starting to place cracks in their dynamic. She didn’t want to go back to the hostility of her youth, and so it seemed much more practical to just get out. On top of a million other things, things she was dutifully not thinking about.
“Jon says Sam should be moving out any day now to move in with Gilly,” she said. She wiped her hands against one another, clearing dust off her palms. “If you just wait it out, or this doesn’t work, you should have somewhere pretty nice to go in a few months.”
The picture frames on the top of her freshly bought IKEA dresser looked kind of sad and misplaced. Arya fingered the edge of one of the frames, staring at the picture of the whole family a few Christmases ago. When she turned back around, it was weird to reconcile this Sansa with the one of their past. She didn’t even bother trying.
There wasn’t really a way to break up their bond anymore, though, she realized. They’d been through too much together for that.
“It’ll work here,” Arya said. There was a small part of her that thought it might not, really, but this was still by far her best option. It excited her more than anything else had.
Sansa nodded, knowing not to question it further. It was one of the things grown up Sansa had gained, an ability to sense the nuance of when she should and shouldn't speak, which seemed to benefit their relationship endlessly.
“I’m glad you like it. Really.” Her phone buzzed and she looked down. Arya watched the way her red hair fell in front of her face. “Bran wants to know if you want to meet up for a bite to eat?”
Arya looked at the half-empty space of her new bedroom. It would take time to make it feel more her own, even if she had hung some posters and pictures in the space. “Yeah, I’d like that. Tell him we can pick him up.”
Sansa texted, and Arya felt the possibility of the space. She could do something with this. This could work.
It was even easier than Arya thought it would be to slip into the folds of the apartment. She left to work when she had her kickboxing or self defense classes to teach, and besides that she relaxed in her room or in the communal space.
Meera was always in and out, she found. Mostly to see her brother or go to work, though Arya had yet to properly decipher what it was she actually did. Hot Pie worked incredibly weird hours at a local Hotel, usually during the odd hours of the night to bake before the guests woke up. And Gendry, well Arya was still trying to figure him out. They were all passing by each other like ships on their own course. It was companionable, but not close. Which was fine by Arya. She didn’t need more people to get close to; being close to people was a dangerous game she was tired of playing.
It had been almost a month and Arya felt better here than she had anywhere else and yet… the world wasn’t better. She hadn’t expected it to be, but she hated the way anger sat in her and flared up at the most inconvenient times. She hated how hard it felt to accept that life had changed and there was no way it was ever shifting back to how it was.
A lot of Fridays she went out with Jon and Sansa and their friends, sometimes Bran when he could be pulled away from his computer (but he didn’t like pubs that much, it made him feel uncomfortable to have to make a fuss with his wheelchair), but she couldn’t do it tonight. She had bought a huge case of beer on her way home from a private training session and was now sitting on the couch, working her way steadily through them as she listened to properly depressing music.
Arya wasn’t sure how many beers deep she was when Gendry walked through the door in a white tee shirt and an oil stain stripped down his neck. He noticed her and the pile of bottles, raising a brow.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Buzzed, and a little on edge, she tilted her head. “Drinking. What does it look like?”
He shrugged as he slipped out of his coat and fell onto the chair beside her. “You mind if I join?”
She motioned her hand toward the beers for him to help himself and scooted her leg underneath herself, leaning up against the arm of the couch as she sipped. “Just… don’t start talking about feelings or anything.”
He laughed, amused and astounded. “You’re a weird girl, you know that?”
“Can we order pizza?” she asked instead.
He laughed a little more, staring for a beat too long to make her strictly comfortable. “Hot Pie!” he finally called out, looking down the hallway. A door opened and a minute later Hot Pie appeared, looking a little unsure. “You want pizza?”
“Wait,” Arya said, holding up a hand. “You were here the whole time?”
Hot Pie rubbed at his arm, eyes darting back between the two of them before he answered. “Yeah.”
“And you didn’t come out?” she asked.
“You seemed in a mood,” he said. He motioned his hand toward her. “You’re still in workout clothes and you bought a huge case of beers. It’s intimidating, Arya.”
She looked down at her black leggings and workout tanktop. All she’d done was come in, stomp over to the couch, and grumpily sit there since she’d come home. No wonder Hot Pie had avoided her. They all paused for a second, maybe unsure how she was going to react, and then laughter hit her like it hadn’t in what felt like forever.
Crumpling over, the laughter shook her whole body. The other boys joined quickly after, all three of them cracking up. Abruptly, the front door opened and shut with a slam. They turned, the laughter dying out, as Meera stomped over and sat on the couch next to Arya.
“My brother has a secret boyfriend and the shit head didn’t bother to tell me,” she said.
Arya looked over to the other boys in hopes they would know exactly how to handle that one, but she should have known they’d be useless. Turning back around, she leaned toward the coffee table and opened a fresh beer for her. Meera took it gratefully, chugging it down before stopping with a sigh.
“Thanks. Should we get pizza? We should get pizza, right?”
Arya nodded and pulled out her cell phone. “You read my mind.”
A few beers quickly turned into being truly, properly trashed. The music switched to something a little bit more lively and louder, they ate enough pizza to feel it pushing against their stomachs in pain, and they talked about nonsense. Meera ranted about her brother and Hot Pie about his ass of a manager. Gendry stayed fairly silent except for his jovial laughs and teasing.
“What got you in your funk, Arya?” Hot Pie finally asked. His words sloshed together almost as much as the drink in his hand, and Arya could tell it was whisky-driven courage with which he asked.
She shook her head no, because the thought alone was already clawing at her throat. It flashed behind her eyes familiarly, the mental scar she could never escape. A slideshow of her worst moments that always seemed to appear right when she was at the brink of something good, just to remind her all that she had lost. Robb. Mom. Dad. Rickon. How unfair it was, how much had been taken from her.
“Not a fun story,” she said after a too long beat of silence.
Hot Pie shrugged. “Come on,” he pushed. “I feel like I know nothing about you.”
Arya eyed the room. Meera seemed to lean in a little closer, curious but not wanting to push. Gendry eyed her casually, like he too was trying to not put too much pressure on her. She could say it, but then the words would freeze the room. They’d just be more people added to her grief list, and what was she doing in the first place? Trying to make new friends? Friends were people you lost.
She stood up abruptly, hitting the coffee table with her knee and feeling the burst of pain at the sharp hit. “I have to use the bathroom.”
Meera said something, breaking the silence as Arya walked down the hallway. She shut the door behind her and gripped the counter. It was cold against her surprisingly warm skin. A happy memory. Her crashing a field hockey ball into the goal and helping the win for their final game of the season. Her family with their haphazardly-made signage and over-enthusiastic cheers.
But then… the shooting two years later. The car crash six months after that. The overdose only half a year ago. The last few years of her life had been a domino trail of tragedy. Starks were cursed, she had decided.
It scratched at the back of her eyelids and clawed at the inside of her throat. “Fuck,” she muttered, but it didn’t feel like enough. “Fuck!” she yelled, banging her knee harshly two times into the old wood of the cabinet below the sink.
Pulling back, she saw the pool of red where the wood had scratched at her skin. Arya sat on the edge of of the tub and ducked her head between her knees. Deep breaths, Sansa would remind her if she was here. She’d pull Arya’s face into her hands even though Sansa knew she wasn’t the biggest on physical touch and make them breath together. In and out , she’d say. Like your pace as you run.
A knock came on the door, and Arya reminded herself where she was. This was her apartment, but she was not alone.
“Can I come in?”
Arya breathed in deep. “Yeah,” she said.
Gendry walked through the door, closing it softly behind himself. He was so broad. She always knew it, but it was even more apparent as she sat so far below him. Next to him, she must look so tiny.
He eyed her, taking note of the knee and bending to grab the first aid kit from below the sink. There was something oddly puerile about the way he crossed his legs and sat in front of her, taking out the antiseptic and bandages.
“You alright?” he asked, looking up at her face briefly from beneath his furrowed brow.
She tilted her head, eyeing him in return but not saying a word. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious they both knew she wasn’t. It was obvious that wasn’t even what he was asking.
Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the way he touched her skin lightly and delicately, trying his hardest not to hurt her or manhandle her. Maybe it was the shining of understanding beneath his blue eyes.
“I’m kinda fucked up,” she said. It sounded ridiculous enough aloud she let out a brief laugh of the self-deprecating sort.
He nodded, giving her the twist of lips that was almost a smile but not nearly happy enough for it. “If it helps, so am I.”
“It might,” she said truthfully. Maybe to someone else it was nothing, but to her… it felt like something to admit that .
He nodded again, biting at his lip to keep down a smile. “You know,” he said, finally letting the mirth take over his features, “you’re a fitness instructor. You could just take your anger out on a punching bag. It would be easier for us both.”
She kicked his shoulder lightly with her foot, half almost fond and half frustrated. “Maybe I should just take it out on you.”
He scoffed. “You couldn’t take me in a fight.” Closing up the first aid kit, he turned and threw it back underneath the sink.
Arya stood back up, feeling the ache in her knee. Gendry held out his hands for a boost up, and she yanked him back to his feet with all her might. “This is ridiculous,” she groaned. “You’re a giant.”
“Nah,” he said with a laugh, “you’re just miniature.”
He laughed some more as she pushed him down the hall.
“How are the roommates?” Sansa asked. They sparred back and forth, a gleam of sweat on her forehead.
Arya went for a fake jab on her right and quickly moved back to the left. Sansa let out an aggravated huff as she retaliated.
“They’re fine,” she said. It had been about a week since her blow up, and luckily none of them had acted all that different toward her. Besides for it being less awkward in the apartment, a bit more friendly. Gendry liked to tease her in the mornings when he brought her a cup of coffee.
Sansa paused to take a breath before walking over to her water. “I think I’m getting at least a little better, right?” she asked. She sighed and took another sip of water.
They’d started training after Ned’s death, but it had only gotten more recent after the car crash. Incredibly frequent after the drugs. It was like each tragedy seemed to sew them tighter and tighter to each other. Bran, Jon, Sansa and Arya. The survivors.
“Maybe you should invite your roommates out for a drink. I know Jon would like to meet them, too. It would be nice to get to know them a bit better.”
Arya hit the punching bag as she waited for Sansa to be ready to jump back in. The door to the room opened, and Jon walked through. Sansa seemed to perk up, and as they shared a smile Arya crunched her eyebrows together. Even after all this time there was something weird about seeing how close they had gotten.
“Would you really like to meet my roommates?” Arya asked Jon. It took all her willpower to not sound mocking about it.
He looked a bit out of sorts on where the conversation had come from, but he nodded just the same as he threw his bag down in the corner and grabbed out his sparring gloves. “I think it’s weird you’ve lived with people for two months and I have no idea who they are.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but having her roommates meet with her family was a point of no return. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll invite them on Friday, but it’s not my fault if they say no.”
Sansa had more pep in her step as she came back to fight, her ponytail flopping from one side to the other. “That’s all we ask.”
That night she dreamt about it. Sansa, her, and Ned had been out for dinner and a movie. Robb had mockingly called it daddy daughter bonding before they left, which Arya had responded to with a middle finger and a rude smile.
“I can’t believe we just sat through two hours of that shit,” Arya said with a groan.
“Oh, you must have liked something about it,” Sansa replied. “Hating everything doesn’t make you cool, you know.”
“Girls,” he warned with the stern love Arya missed constantly.
They were cutting through to the parking lot by way of the alley behind the theater when a sweatshirt-clad figure appeared. “Your wallets,” he said. Suddenly, all Arya could see was the gun in the half-lit night. “Come on, all of it.”
Ned stepped forward, trying to shield the girls. His hands were up and he moved them slowly toward his back pocket. “Just put the gun down, please. We’ll cooperate, but you don’t need to use that.”
The man pushed the gun forward before lifting it up to the sky and shooting it off once. “Come on, old man. Money. Now.”
Sansa squealed and Arya felt fear and anger in equal measurement fill her to the brim. Ned moved to the wallet again, taking a few steps forward to toss it on the ground in front of the man.
“Watch, too,” he said.
Ned shook his head no. “It has sentimental value. Just leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
The next bit always came in a blur, even when Arya really tried to break it down step by step. There was a bit more arguing. There was Sansa crying silently next to her. The sound of another bullet and police sirens and Sansa and her cradling their father’s head in their laps. Telling him they loved him as he passed away.
“Please don’t go,” Sansa begged. Her hands were pushed into the wound on his chest, blood seeping over her ivory skin.
“I love you girls,” Ned said between gasps. “I love…”
By the time the ambulance came, there was nothing left to save. Just two young women, covered in their father’s blood, holding their bloodied hands clasped tightly together.
“Why are you so nervous?” Gendry asked. He rapped his knuckles against the bar, reaching forward as he tried to get a drink from the bartender.
“I’m not nervous.” Though, Arya was a bit tired. The end of the week had ended up feeling long.
He scoffed. “Ok. God, why can’t I get a fucking drink?”
Arya rolled her eyes and stepped her foot on the side of the nearby stool a burly man was sitting on, resting a hand on Gendry’s shoulder to balance as she used the height to lean over the bar. Using her free hand, Arya stuck her thumb and pointer finger in her mouth to whistle and waved when the bartender looked over. “Brienne!”
“You come here a lot then?” Gendry asked. He rested a hand on her waist to ease her wobbling.
Arya nodded. “It’s kinda our spot.” Brienne appeared in front of them, and Arya smiled. “Can I get a pitcher of beer?”
“You care which one?” Brienne asked.
“Nah, take your pick.”
Brienne nodded toward Gendry as she filled a pitcher. “Who’s this one?”
“Gendry meet Brienne. Brienne, Gendry. He’s my roommate. Well, one of them,” she said. Arya shifted her gaze toward Gendry. “Brienne’s the toughest woman I know, and she’s married to a real wimp.”
Brienne rolled her eyes. “You know Jaime will really appreciate that.”
“Jaime hates me,” Arya said to Gendry with a grin.
“He doesn’t hate you.” Brienne brought the pitcher up to the bar top. “He just thinks Sansa is nicer.”
“Everyone does. I’m too ‘feisty and uncouth’,” she mimicked in his voice.
“If he didn’t like feist he wouldn’t be married to me. Stop calling him a wimp, and he’ll like you more. Now take your beer, and let me do my job. Nice to meet you, Gendry.”
Gendry nodded with a small chuckle, taking the beer and holding Arya’s forearm as she hopped back down to the ground. “She’s fun.”
“Yeah, she used to know my mom.”
Arya was saved from continuing that thought, or seeing the way his face reacted to that comment, by arriving at their table. Whatever Hot Pie and Meera had been talking about meandered off into nothing as they went after the beer they placed down.
“Arya!”
She turned, noticing Sansa pushing Bran and Jon closely behind them. The rest of their table turned, and Arya really wasn’t sure why her heart beat a little faster and her palms became slick.
“Hey,” Arya said as they sidled up to the table. “Hot Pie, Meera, Gendry, meet Jon, Sansa, Bran.”
“I think I’ve met Hot Pie. You ever figure out that pot roast?” Sansa asked with a friendly smile.
Hot Pie nodded enthusiastically. “All it needed was a little more time and love.”
“Good,” she said. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Bran? Jon?”
“I’m alright with beer,” Bran said, rolling his chair up to the edge of the table.
“Arya come up with me,” Sansa said, though it was more of an order than anything else. She looped her arm through her sisters and tugged her away before Arya could argue. Brienne noticed them instantly as the approached the bar and started on Sansa’s regular drink.
“Why’d you pull me away?”
“I want Jon and Bran to be able to interrogate without you hovering over them.”
“Hey!”
Sansa chuckled. “I’ll buy you a shot.”
A shot and a few drinks later, everything seemed to be going well enough. Jon and Gendry were getting along almost frustratingly well. More surprisingly, Meera and Bran had been deep in conversation all evening. Arya snuck away as it got later, knowing Sansa wouldn’t appreciate her going off outside to grab a smoke.
“Can I bum one?”
Arya looked up to see Gendry leaning on the brick wall beside her. She pulled the pack from her back pocket and held it out for him. He had his own lighter, which he lit the end of the offered cigarette with.
“When’s your and Jon’s wedding?” she asked between puffs.
“Oh, don’t be jealous ,” he teased, hitting her shoulder with his own.
She rolled her eyes and took a long drag.
“He said he’s not your brother,” Gendry remarked.
Arya dropped her cigarette, crushing it with her boot. “Typical Jon. He is, just not through blood.”
“He said…” Gendry cleared his throat, and Arya pulled her flannel more tightly around herself as a chill rushed by. His eyes went too soft, and she felt herself bristle. “Just, well your family—”
“Fuck off,” she said. She took a few steps away toward the road, trying to take a deep breath. A car rushed by, loud and clanking. It wasn’t his fault, Arya reminded herself. She couldn’t help the fire within her, though. The bite of something feral in her throat.
“I didn’t mean—”
She turned toward him, fists clenched at her side. “Did you ever think I didn’t want you to know? That I was trying to keep you separate for a reason? Now all you’re going to do is look at me with stupid pitying eyes and I can’t—Fuck.”
“Arya,” Gendry aid sternly. “All he said is it’s only you guys now. And I’m not going to fucking pity you. You’re too much of a pain in my ass.”
She laughed, a little bitter. A little mad. “Buy me a beer?” It was a clear subject change, but neither of them seemed to mind.
He scoffed. “You don’t need another beer.” His cigarette fell to the concrete where he stamped it out.
“I want one, though.” She came back to his side, turning them toward the entrance of the bar.
He shook his head. “Such a brat.”
She held the door open for him and rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”
“Fine,” he said. “One beer.”
He guided her through the bar with a hand on her lower back. It felt warm. So am I, he said when she had said she was fucked up. Maybe he understood. Maybe he was just trying to because he knew the feeling of an unstoppable rage at the things you couldn't change, too. She shrugged it off, letting him guide her back to Brienne and another beer. For the sake of the night, she let the thoughts wash away with the tang of alcohol.
Meera came in the next morning, taking the coffee pot off and pouring herself a mug. “It’s cool if I date your brother, right?”
Arya snapped her eyes to Hot Pie who was sitting on the other side of the couch. He barely noticed. “You want to date Jon?”
“Bran, you idiot,” Gendry said as he appeared from the hall.
He was shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. Arya hadn’t realized how clearly ripped he was. It was a bit distracting, and she felt her mouth go dry at his defined muscle as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.
“So, it’s okay?” Meera asked.
Arya snapped her eyes to her. Meera’s brow was raised, and Arya felt her cheeks go warm. “Yeah. That's fine. Best of luck.”
“Oh, I don’t need luck.” Meera pushed herself away from the counter and sat down on the chair, leg underneath herself. “It’s going to work out perfectly.”
Arya chuckled, shaking her head. Her eyes wandered to Gendry who was putting a piece of bread into the toaster. It shouldn’t be this attractive, Arya thought. The sight of his bare skin shouldn’t be so magnetic.
When she turned back to Meera, she looked properly amused. Arya rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help herself from sneaking another last glance before looking back down to her computer.
She didn’t mean to do it, really. When it came down to it, she wasn’t all that sure where it came from. She knew, of course, that it came back to the endless supply of death and destruction in her life the way all things did. But specifically , she wasn’t all that sure what had her crawling further and further into her skin.
It might have come down to Meera and Bran, who were getting closer and closer. Meera wasn’t one for oversharing, but she always came home with a pep in her step and too many smiles. Maybe it was the way Hot Pie had started leaving her tupperware containers labeled with her name with food for when she worked long nights. Maybe it was the fact that Gendry seemed to be able to make her laugh, make her frustrated in an almost endearing way, when she wanted to feel nothing at all.
In the end, it didn’t matter all that much. What mattered was that she was bitter and empty at the same time. That she couldn’t see these people because it was just a reminder of all she could lose if it continued. Sansa and Jon and Bran were already too much to lose. Arya knew the way loss shaped your life, the way it carved at pieces of yourself.
She couldn’t do it again.
It was moments like those in which Arya wished she was no one. No name. No person. Just a shell of a human being living day by day. Then she could pretend she wasn’t Arya Stark, the girl who’d lost all her family. The girl with enough tragedy to drown in it. She’d travel the world and be a million different people.
She was too loyal to leave behind her family, but she could protect herself. It was self-preservation, really, that had her locking herself in her room. Not talking to anyone. Cancelling her private sessions when she couldn’t seem to get out of bed. Shutting the phone off. Arya was fine. She’d swear it up and down.
“Arya?” came Meera’s voice and a knock through the door. “We haven’t seen you, are you okay?”
Words felt unbelievably heavy in her throat. Moving felt too incredibly difficult. “Fine,” came out a croak that barely sounded like her own voice.
There were a few footsteps. A low murmuring. But the quiet came again, and Arya fell into it.
Arya wasn’t sure how much time had gone past, truthfully. She tried avoiding the bathroom and the communal space as much as possible, so she listened for sounds to die down before she slipped through the halls. She knew her head was starting to feel a bit itchy from lack of showering and that her room felt stale. But her windows were covered and her phone turned off, so daylight and hours were nonexistent.
Sometimes, she slept for what felt like forever. Sometimes, she listlessly looked at her computer, or a wall, or trash television. She’d gotten someone to take over her classes for at least a week, and she figured so far she was fine.
“Thank god you’re here.” It sounded like Meera. She was clearly trying to whisper, but it was coming through the walls nearly crystal clear.
“She hasn’t come out of her room?” Sansa. They’d called in Sansa. “It’s near our mom’s birthday, which is always hard. When was—”
Arya pushed to her feet, having to take a second to readjust her balance after jumping up so quickly, and went to throw open the door. “What are you doing here?”
Sansa and Meera were standing at the end of the hallway, right where the combined kitchen and living room met it, and Arya could see Gendry futzing around in the kitchen. The only person not there was Hot Pie.
“You missed our training session,” Sansa said. She looked as perfect as ever. Black leggings and a pink, crop top. Her hair was up in a swinging, red ponytail.
Arya didn’t feel the small spout of jealousy she sometimes did in childhood all that often anymore, but for a moment she did. It was weird, though, because it was the most she’d felt in days. The biggest spike in the monotonous nothing she’d been riding.
“I’ve been sick.”
It felt like Arya could imagine how she looked for the first time. Greasy hair, well-worn sweats, dark circles underneath her eyes. Small and dirty and tired. She almost felt embarrassed.
“Well, I won’t train with anyone else so you better get yourself together,” Sansa said, crossing her arms in front of herself. That was just her, trying to put it all back together without making it seem like she was doing anything at all.
“Can you…” Arya trailed off, unsure of how to describe how even moving to get the door had taken almost all of her energy. “Can you help me for a second?”
It was a surprising admission. Even Gendry in the back perked up at the question, stopping his sandwich making to look at her briefly.
“Of course,” Sansa said after the brief and barely noticeable stunt of shock. She stepped into Arya’s room and shut the door behind her. “What can I do for you?”
“Maybe you could braid my hair?” she asked almost sheepishly.
Sansa gulped, face falling heavy, but nodded. This was what Catelyn used to do when they were children. Sit them down and make them wait to have their hair beautifully braided. Sansa had picked it up easily with her skilled hands, but Arya had always just opted to cut all of her hair off and avoid the issue entirely.
Arya sat on the ground next to her bed, and Sansa sat on the edge, scooting her legs around Arya’s form. “Sometimes,” Sansa said as she raked her fingers through Arya’s slowly growing locks, “I miss them so much I don’t think I can even breathe.”
Arya clenched her eyes tight. Crying had never come easily to her, but sometimes she felt like there were needles pricking at the back of her eyes. “You’re so good at it,” she croaked out.
Sansa paused in her actions to reach for a nearby glass of water, passing it down to her. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had gotten while she withered away on the bed.
Arya continued. “It cripples me, and you balance a million things, keep moving.”
“We all cope differently, right?” Sansa scoffed. “You can’t move, and I can’t stop moving. I pile on a million things until I can’t even think. If only we could meet somewhere in the middle, right? Then we’d be better.”
They sat in silence besides for the sounds of Sansa tangling pieces of Arya’s hair together.
“What happened this time, Arya?” Sansa asked softly. “Or was it all about mom?”
Talking to Sansa was still hard. They’d gotten undeniably closer, but there were moments where all Arya wanted to do was lash out. The initial flare of anger came, and she pushed it down and took a deep breath.
“I got scared,” she admitted. “Having new people in my life that I like , that I care about…”
“And Meera started dating Bran which didn’t make it any easier,” Sansa said with a knowing sigh. “I think it has to get easier at some point. Or maybe we just get more used to it, I don’t know. Sometimes, I get so happy and I forget and then I just feel guilty. I don’t think we should feel bad about living, though. I don’t think they’d want us to.”
She hurt and she loved and she felt such a conflicting current of emotion running through her body all at once Arya didn’t even know how to react. It was the least she could do for all of them, really. Live with all she had. Keep pushing forward. Keep trying.
“Hey Sans?” Arya asked. Sansa hummed in reply as she finished off the braids. “I really don’t have the energy to work out with you. I promise I’ll go back to work tomorrow or the next day, but… do you think we could just go get some fast food or something?”
Sansa laughed, bright and cheery, and kicked Arya's back lightly to get her to stand up. “Sure. I could use a little ice cream, anyways.”
Arya took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She was haggard, but there was feeling in her face at least. Turning to her sister, she tried to pretend she had it all together. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped.
“Maybe we could invite my roommates.”
Sansa beamed, and Arya felt like she was falling apart, but at least she had people who were trying to help her keep it together. It made her feel, at the very least, a little bit better. A little more hopeful.
“Where is everybody?” Arya asked, falling back onto the couch.
Gendry shrugged. “Pretty sure Meera is out on a date with your brother.”
“Holy shit. She really wasn’t joking when she said she didn’t need luck.”
He laughed, finally looking up from his laptop and setting it to the side. “She really wears you down until you can’t help but love her.”
Arya gave a small smile. “You don’t say.” She paused. “And Hot Pie?”
“I don’t really know what Hot Pie does in his free time. We’ve lived together for like three years, and it’s still a complete mystery.”
“You’re lived together that long?”
He nodded. “He’s an easy roommate.”
They turned on the couch so they were facing one another, each’s back against one of the arm rests. Arya kicked her leg into his, and he narrowed his eyes in her direction.
“Am I an easy roommate?”
“Oh, definitely not,” he answered without a moment of hesitation. She stuck her tongue out. “ But I still wouldn’t trade you away if it makes any difference.”
“You like me,” she joked.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotten used to your presence.”
Arya smiled, the feeling warming a path through her chest. He looked so carefree right now—a slick of oil on his collar bone, a loose white tee shirt showing off his arms, and a comfy pair of sweats. Things sometimes seemed to weigh on him, but right now he looked young. An unavoidable fondness took hold of her.
“You’ve still got oil on you,” she said. She leaned forward, crawling over the couch to get to the spot he kept missing.
Oil didn’t matter much to him, mostly because it was just a side effect of the profession. It had seemed like a good idea to help him out at first, but now she was realizing coming up to him meant practically straddling his lap. She brought her hand up to the spot and tried to avoid a flush across her cheeks.
“You’re always missing spots,” she said.
He chuckled, and she could feel the rumble through him from her place so close to him. “It’s just what happens. Too much effort to fight it.”
Finally, the skin looked back at her clean, and she nodded with the achievement. The moment crystallized. Here she was, planted on his lap, and his face was so close. Laughter died on both of their lips, and Arya didn’t know what to do with the moment. She nearly panicked, but then he cleared his throat and looked away. Scurrying back to her spot on the other side of the couch, she cleared her own throat.
“I haven’t been to the water all summer, you know.”
“Neither have I.”
“Well, that won’t do ,” Arya said with wide eyes. “I need to see the water at least once. How far from us is that lake? I can’t remember the name, but I know it’s got all the pretty hiking trails?”
“Only about an hour,” Gendry answered for her. His voice got a bit dreamy. “I used to go there all the time when I was younger with my mom.”
Arya nodded. “Well, that's settled then. We have to go at least once before fall hits. It’ll be fun, we’ll get all of us together when we have a free day.”
“Whatever my lady commands,” Gendry said with the tilt of a fake hat.
“Fuck off . I am not a lady and definitely not yours.”
Gendry shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “Fine. Fine. Does princess suit you better?”
Arya wished his reflexes weren’t quite so good. At least then the pillow she threw at him wouldn’t have missed.
Sansa had practically refused to remove her feet from the edge of the water for at least the last hour, though Arya hasn’t been timing it. Arya found it funny how Jon kept wading in and out, checking to make sure she was okay before coming back to the spot Gendry and Arya were currently sitting.
Bran was out of his chair and on a blanket, Meera on one side and Hot Pie on the other. JoJen was meant to show up at some point, maybe with his boyfriend, and Jon had said Sam would maybe appear as well. It had been a good day so far, at least by Arya’s standards.
“He’s worried about her,” Gendry said as they watched Jon wade in again. Sansa splashed him with water in irritation, and he laughed jovially back in return.
“Yeah, Jon is kind of like a mother hen really,” Arya said with a chuckle. “I mean, he’d be the first to deny that, but he is.”
Gendry shifted, leaning back on his palm. They were sitting on the top of the picnic table nearby, surveying the scene. They’d come over initially to get another drink and had sat down, liking the slight elevation of the view.
“Can I ask a slightly personal question?” he asked as he watched Meera slap Bran’s arm, the two of them laughing, with a slight smile.
“Shoot.” Arya took another swig of her beer.
“How did he end up in the chair?”
It was weird, sometimes, to remember that though all the surviving Starks felt tragedy in their bones they didn’t necessarily outwardly wear it. The story wasn't as obvious to everybody else as it was to them. Bran wore it through his chair obviously, but even then it wasn't clearly written.
Arya cleared her throat. This sort of question was one she’d been asked a lot. It was easier to answer than some of the others. “A car accident. The one that killed my mom and my younger brother… he was in the car, too. He ended up paralyzed from the waist down.”
“How long?” Gendry asked. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a quick puff before passing it to her. There was something so erratic about how he smoked, though she figured it probably applied to her as well. Random moments, mostly when they drank, but other than that cigarettes weren’t a constant. Maybe he had thought she would like the distraction as she spoke.
“A few years. Long enough ago I shouldn’t still feel it the way I do,” Arya said bitterly. She passed the cigarette back. “But that's neither here nor there.”
He blew the smoke downwind and grabbed at Arya’s beer to take a drink of that, too. “I don’t think it really goes away, honestly. I mean, my mom died when I was still in my teens. Cancer. It was a sick bitch. Most days… I think the people we love, when they’re gone, it’s hard to not feel that.”
Arya watched the profile of his face. Such strong lines and broad features. It was marred with sadness of his own, and she wondered why she hadn’t picked up on it more before. Maybe she was too lost in her own grief to watch the world around her properly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
He shrugged. “No bother. No one really wants to talk about it, right?”
When he met her eyes she felt connected to him, like they were on the same wavelength. She smiled at him, and he gave a grin back.
“We should go in the water.”
He gulped, almost to a comical degree. It made Arya giggle a little, the weight of the previous conversation slipping off of them easily. “I’m not much of a swimmer.”
Arya paused. “Are you… Are you afraid of water?” she asked.
“Not afraid ,” he said carefully. The cigarette finally came to an end and he snubbed it out. “I just have proper respect for it. I know it could kill me, so I deal with it gingerly.”
“Gingerly?” Arya hopped up to her feet, wiping her hands off on her oversized shirt and offering it to Gendry. “Fuck that, we’re doing this.”
He grumbled and got down from the table. “Do we have to?”
“Yes!” She threw off her shirt and tugged him behind her, and soon they were a couple feet away away from Sansa and Jon who waved over at them. “Ok, so can you swim?”
“I can swim,” he replied defensively and a bit sullenly.
“Cool, then let’s just ease in.” Arya didn’t let go of his hand, tugging him in foot by foot. The bottom of the lake wasn’t slippery, but it was a bit rocky, so they took it cautiously. “You’re doing well.”
“This is the most compassionate you’ve ever been to me,” Gendry said as the water reached his waist. For Arya, it was already almost over all of her stomach, but she wasn’t bothered.
“Can you not swim?” Jon asked as he waded over, Sansa close on his heels.
“I can swim perfectly fine,” Gendry said. “I just… prefer not to.”
Jon snickered, and Sansa hit his arm. “Don’t be mean, Jon. We all know how scared of spiders you are.”
He whipped his head toward her. “It was one time, and you said we didn’t have to talk about—”
Sansa whipped some water into his face, stopping the conversation mid-way. They all paused for a moment, an amused snicker coming from Arya, before Jon was slapping water back at all of them. The moment dissolved into chaos.
Arya splashed harshly at Jon and Sansa before jumping at Gendry’s back, trying to knock him over in the water. He took a few steps backwards, one arm wrapped behind him to hold her there, but he remained standing tall.
“Oh, come on. Stop being such a giant for one second.” Arya clasped her legs more tightly around his torso.
Gendry laughed, and Sansa pushed forward to push at Gendry in an assist. He just laughed harder, taking a step back from the pushing hands, and then held his arms out wide at his sides as Arya clutched onto his back.
“Retaliation,” he said before letting himself fall backward into the water.
Arya felt the crash of water at once, Gendry above her, and she pushed him away under water to sputter to the surface. Jon and Sansa, and even the crew still on the edge of the water, were chuckling about the whole thing. Gendry appeared from the water a few seconds later, and she couldn’t help but laugh, too. At the way his hair stuck to his forehead, the way everyone else laughed, his over enthusiastic smile.
“You punch me so much,” he said between a gasp as he recollected his breath. “This is really just evening out the playing field.”
Arya rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t disappear. Sometimes, life felt like one step forward, two steps back. Progress wasn’t linear. But standing in the water with them all, the laughter easing up into the air and surrounding them, she felt good. She felt like she was taking one huge step forward at least.
Sam and Gilly appeared at the shore, waving enthusiastically as they waddled in with a million bags. Jon jogged back through the water to reach them (Arya wasn’t even sure how someone could move so quickly through water, it didn’t seem possible).
Grabbing onto Sansa’s arm, Gendry pushing back through the water behind them, they walked back to the shore. In a rare moment of sisterly love, Arya tightened her hold.
"A good day, right?" Sansa said with a light smile. She stumbled over the rocks, and Arya tightened her grasp.
She nodded. Great, Arya thought though she would never say it aloud. A great day.