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It was 2009 and Sansa was sitting at a performing arts club in Wintertown. Her friend, Jeyne, had told her about it, claiming that it was one of the best evenings she’d had in a long time. Although she lived to disagree with Jeyne, she had to admit that her friend had been all too right about this one.
She had come from work, as the club was conveniently located right on her way home. Any traces of the bad day she’d been having had been wiped away from her face as she sat enjoying the show.
A man named Gendry walked onto the stage for his reading, brandishing a diary like a weapon. He was probably around her own age.
“This diary’s from the year I turned eleven. My family had just moved into the city, and I thought they were all constantly picking on me.” Gendry paused, looked at the audience, and started reading.
“June 11th, 1990. Diary, I’m so sick of my mom! She always tries to tell me what to do! I want to scream at her so loud, can’t she see that I’m old enough to know what I’m doing? I’m turning twelve in seven months,” He looked up at the grinning audience, looking indignant as if he was eleven again, “And dad! Don’t even get me started on that guy!”
The audience let out a sudden burst of laughter, Sansa included.
“Today, he made this stupid chilli and I didn’t want that so I asked if I could make myself a sandwich. Three guesses for what he said?” Gendry took a breath. “Dad is a bitch.”
Sansa’s beer came out of her nose at that one, everyone else around her hooting.
He spoke defiantly, engrossed in all the might of his eleven year old fury. “Cunty bitch. He doesn’t even know how to make the TV work.” Gendry ended the entry with the finality of a good insult, as if not knowing how to make the TV work made his father an inferior man.
“June 29th, 1987. I hate my life so much! Today, I wanted to go to the new water park with my friends but my mom didn’t let me. She thinks I’m a little child. But guess what she doesn’t know? I’m running away from home tomorrow! That’ll show her.”
Gendry cut off from the entry, “Now follows a series of drawings even I couldn’t get out.” He pressed the clicker and there came an incredibly detailed drawing of a middle finger, followed by a cock, followed by other things Sansa couldn’t identify because of the way her grin had made her eyes scrunch up.
He continued. “Mom is a DORK, a MORON, and a GEEK,” he emphasised each word more than the last, drawing humour from childish brattiness, “I hate her so much.”
He bowed jokingly as the audience laughed, then exited the same way he had come.
•••
The next week, Sansa gave her own ‘Mortified’ audition. It wasn’t even a question of whether they would like it, to be honest, it was a question of how much she was willing to embarrass herself to make the coordinators laugh.
The entries she selected had them hooting and hollering in less than five minutes. The reason for her success in making people laugh by her adolescent diary entries was solely Jon Snow.
A good half of her teenage years had been spent pining over Jon, one year her senior, her brother’s childhood best friend, and the wallflower who made her spend her time writing in cursive in her little journal.
Sansa spent the next week gathering her old journals and poring over them to figure out the most embarrassing entries she was willing to read out to other people.
The other use she made of her time was try to stalk Jon Snow. She wanted to see what he was like now. He’d wanted to be a firefighter when they were children, she knew that through dubious means.
However, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find the guy on Facebook. Apparently, Jon Snow was a very common name, and the man had a very well-hidden profile.
Wherever he was, she hoped he was happy and as great as he was twelve years ago.
•••
“Chin up, Sans, you’ll be great! You’ll embarrass yourself gravely and make us very proud.” Arya thumped her on the back.
The rest of her siblings had found out through Robb, who had found out from Theon, who had been told by Jeyne. That snake.
Robb was the only one whom she didn’t want here, with the stuff that she was going to talk about. Arya would have come regardless of anything she said, and Bran had just said, “I have to see this.”
Sansa groaned and got up, walking to the room where the participants had all gathered up, getting ready to speak. She was shaking in her boots, she’d never had a fear of public speaking before but the magnitude in which she was about to embarrass herself was, well, mortifying.
“I wouldn’t let my parents come,” Sansa over-heard a conversation between two participants. “I’m too embarrassed.”
“Oh really?” Someone responded, “I wouldn’t let me sister come, most of what I wrote is about how much I hated her.”
Sansa wanted to laugh, now that would be a whole other event. Arya probably took up just about as much space in her childhood journals as Jon did in her teenage ones.
She heard someone else say, “96 to 97, by far, my worst years.” Sansa smiled, hers were also from that year.
Her legs almost involuntarily walked her over to the source of the voice, wanting to talk to someone. As she parked herself behind the man, she noticed him properly. He was average height, about as tall as her, with mid length black hair and shoulders wide enough to compete with a superhero.
She got a weird feeling in her chest, turning to walk away just as the man in front of her did the same thing. Sansa’s heart dropped into her ass.
Jon Fucking Snow. Here. On the night she was going to say embarrassing things about him to a room full of people.
He looked at her, his face a mix of confusion and recognition and giddiness.
Jon aged well, like fine wine, Sansa noted as she all but ran out of the back room and made her way out towards the entrance of the club, farthest away from the stage but still close enough to hear.
The current speaker, a girl who Sansa hadn’t managed to catch at all, walked off the stage with a final, “I kissed her on the lips, I’m going to hell!”
Then, Jon walked on. Robb and Arya, on either side of her, spoke at once, an excited chatter. Apparently, neither of them had known that Jon was back in town.
Jon had to lower the microphone when he got there, and the audience let out a small laugh.
“I seemingly have not grown since I wrote this journal,” Jon said, smiling. He pressed the clicker in his hands, and on the projector behind him came a picture of him from when he was 16. He has bangs all over his forehead, and glasses he definitely didn’t need, along with a black beanie and choker and definitely some kohl in his eyes. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Kurt Cobain.
The entire room laughed, especially the Starks, who recognised him from that phase. Except for Sansa, who stayed quiet as a mouse, sweating like a whore in church.
“My mom was absolutely great. Really sensitive.” If she strained her ear, she could pick up on the jovial sarcasm in his voice.
“So, on my 15th birthday, she gave me a journal. Not a diary, she insisted. It was a place where I could explore my inner persona, which I’m sure she hadn’t realized would be emo as hell.”
The entire room laughed as he continued. “An out-of-place emo” he paused, “who wanted nothing more than for the prettiest girl in school to be his girlfriend.”
“Oh, and I kept a log of what I was listening to and what I was eating, mostly. No idea why.” He paused again, before flipping open the diary in his hand.
“14th September, 1996. Today was a really thoughtful day. Me and Robb were sitting in the cafeteria and I suddenly realized that Sansa is really fucking pretty. Robb would kill me if he knew. Not that I’m scared of death.”
Everyone chuckled. Everyone, that is, except for Sansa and her siblings. Arya sat with an open mouth big enough to catch flies, Robb’s face was a mixture of the highest degree of shock and trauma, and Bran just looked like this was the best decision he could have ever made for himself. As for herself, as far as she could tell, her lungs had stopped drawing breath. And her heart, formerly in her ass, was now in her little toe.
What the fuck?
Jon continued, “Today, I listened to Nirvana and ate a hot dog and saltines. Peace.”
“25th October, 1996. Today, I went to the cinema with Theon and Robb and Robb’s sister Sansa, who I’m in love with, by the way. We watched Titanic. Which is the best movie ever. The feelings it portrays are so complex.” Jon looked up at the smiling audience.
“Kate Winslet is so hot. Her hair is a lot like Sansa’s. Let me tell you, I had to excuse myself during that carriage scene. Whew. I had a dream about her, by the way. Not Kate! She’s old, she must be, like, thirty. Ew. I mean Sansa. It was that kind of dream. Don’t judge me. Robb, if you ever read this. I guess we’re even, right? Me for having a dream about your sister giving me a blowjob and you for reading about it.”
The people in front of Sansa lost it at that, laughing loudly. The people sitting on either side of her, almost collapsed in shock and disgust.
Robb looked at her, “That fucking perv! That’s why he always wanted to hang out at our house.”
Arya’s mouth was still open.
Jon continued. “I listened to Tupac and ate all the Hamburger Helper at home. Peace.”
“3rd February, 1997. Today was fun, for once in my meaningless life. We played paintball and I made cookies with mom and then I gave them to Robb and he said Sansa loved them! I wonder if she’ll love the cake I make for our wedding that much too?”
He paused, looking straight at her. She looked back, feeling so many emotions in her head, she couldn’t say anything at that moment if she wanted to.
“I want to fuck Sansa. Today, I ate cookies and listened to Pink Floyd.”
He flipped a page, speaking before he started reading. “Ultimately, I realized I had no chance with Sansa. But the good news is, that when I finally landed my first girlfriend, I was seasoned and used to utter heartbreak, so when we broke up after three weeks, I wasn’t devastated.”
Sansa remembered that. He’d started dating a girl at college, everyone used to talk about it all the time because she was a year older than him and it was scandalous. Every time she’d seen him after that, she’d screamed into a pillow afterwards.
“29th June, 1997. Sitting here, much to think about. Ygritte dumped me. I’m reminiscing over our time together. She wanted someone who was more grounded and made decisions for ‘us’, not for myself. I don’t understand. Maybe I’ll finally get over redheads now. Including she-who-must-not-be-named. (I love Harry Potter. Ginny’s so cute.) Today I wore a black hoodie and ate meatloaf. Peace.”
He laughed, along with the rest of the crowd.
“Evidently, I have red head fever forever. I hope you guys enjoyed this.”
He walked off the stage. Sansa’s legs tried to follow his movement, forgetting that her brain had switched off the first time Jon said her name on stage. She got up, brushing off her legs and skirt, and walked towards the backstage room with as much dignity as someone who’d just fallen flat on their face in public possibly could.
On the way, she realized she was going to talk to Jon for the first time in around ten years, considering the fact that she’d been seventeen when he’d moved away for university, and was twenty seven now. She didn’t want to meet him without looking like the best version of herself.
So, she detoured to the bathroom, where she splashed some water on her flushed face, and reapplied her lipstick, taking a minute to fluff up her hair and brush down her clothes. Then taking another minute to take some reassuring breaths. Then another one just because.
Finally, she walked out of the door, half heartedly wondering just how scandalised her siblings were at Jon’s reading and how much worse her own would make it.
If only there was a chance that he still liked her. They did say you never truly forgot your first love, right? Although she wasn’t sure just exactly whom this ‘they’ referred to. She’d never seen anyone get with their first crush a decade after the crush itself.
She tried to focus herself on thinking positively as she walked into the backstage room. As soon as she entered, her eyes focused on Jon, who sat on a small couch to the side of the room, biting his lip and looking anxious. He looked so fucking hot.
I want to fuck Sansa.
She walked up to him as quick as she could, if she lost her nerve now, she’d never get it back.
As she settled in front of him, he looked up. His eyes didn’t hold any surprise, only some anxiety and general happiness to see her.
“Hey, Jon.”
He smiled, his lips bitten to the point of being raw. They looked so inviting. “Hi. I’m really sorry if my journal made you uncomfortable, honestly, I had absolutely no clue you were into this sort of th-“
Sansa cut him off, “No, no. It was okay. Funny, actually. You’ve gotten better at talking to people.” She holds his gaze, and he blushes slightly under the attention.
There was a pause in the conversation, before Jon moved his head as if to shake himself out of thought, and questioned, “So what’s your life like these days, Sansa Stark?”
She refrained from sighing, would be much better if you were in it. “Good, yeah. I work in fashion, and I have a dog. Big one. Her name’s Lady.”
Jon looked happy at the information. “Oh, that’s really cool. I have a dog too. I call him Ghost.”
Sansa smiled. “What a coincidence.”
Jon’s gaze intensified. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Then fate, whatever you want to call it.” Her voice was gentle.
Jon nods softly. “Maybe it is.” He got up, standing only a few inches away from her. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Sansa breathed out. “I can’t believe you’re here. Gods, I can’t believe you’re about to hear my performance. Please go away.”
“You heard mine.” Jon pointed out, grinning. “It’s only fair.”
Her face turned red. “Oh, but yours was cute. Mine… let’s just say that mine isn’t.”
Jon smiled teasingly. “Does it involve me?”
Her groan escaped her mouth without her permission. “At this point, what do you think, Jon?”
He stepped even closer. There were maybe two inches of space left between them at this point. Hardly anything decent. “Why did you never speak to me when we were kids?”
“I was so in love with you, it was awkward.” She spoke in a low voice.
“You were beautiful.” Jon spoke earnestly.
Her face was probably a shade of red that was entirely unflattering and terribly clashed with her hair at this point. “You were beautiful. I mean, you are beautiful.”
Jon’s smile shattered any resistance she had left. She tipped her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of the cologne he used. “We wasted a lot of time, didn’t we?”
His fingers moved up to her neck, around her hair and behind her ear, where he rubbed lightly. It was the most comforting thing ever, despite standing in the middle of a pretty crowded and small room. “I missed you.”
Sansa hummed. “Me too.” She burrowed her face deeper into his shoulder.
“We should go.” His fingers didn’t stop moving.
“Out?” Sansa tried.
His answering chuckle was deep and low, she could feel it where she was pressed against him. “Currently, outside, since your timeslot is in a minute. But, yes please.”
Sansa had completely forgotten why she was even there in the first place. She groaned, pulling away from Jon. “Go away, please, don’t hear mine.”
He shushed her, patting her on the cheek and putting a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear. “Good luck!”
She sighed, turning away. Now that she’d gotten him, she didn’t know how she ever lived through a whole decade without seeing the guy every second of the day.
She went to the main waiting spot and sure enough, in two minutes, she heard the host say, “Please welcome Sansa Stark!”
As she walked onto the stage, she found that it was much easier than she thought it would be. The lights weren’t too bright and there weren’t too many people out there. Now for the actual speaking part.
“Hey guys. Today I’m gonna be reading from,” she held up her diary, “this ancient thing. This is from 1997 when I had just turned fifteen, and my desires for my brother’s best friend were getting out of hand.”
The crowd already looked interested. She wasn’t scared anymore. If anything, she wanted to make it entertaining for Jon. She knew her siblings would probably just murder her the second she got off the stage anyway. Except for Bran. He was really enjoying this.
“February 13th, 1996. Dear Camila,” she paused to explain. “My diary was named Camila, because it was a fancy name and my diary was a fancy sort of gal.”
She cleared her throat, starting again. “Dear Camila, today I was thinking, and I would like it if Jon could be my first. For, you know. That. I’m not going to write the noun because if anyone read this, I’d be grounded. How romantic would it be if he came into my room on Valentines Day for… let’s call it lovemaking.” She smiled at herself, feeling embarrassed for her teenage self.
“Jon’s so polite. He doesn’t even chew with his mouth open, like Robb or Theon. He’s saving my hope for all men.”
The crowd tittered.
“We’ll use a condom, though. I don’t wanna get herpes my first time.” The crowd boomed at that one.
She took a second to speak as herself. “By the way, condom is starred out so that you can only see three letters.”
“Lastly, I think that Arya is stealing my pretty bras and using them as slingshots. I’ll update you, Camila.” Sansa spoke with all the urgency that she had felt about the matter as a child.
As she finished the first entry, she noticed that the crowd was laughing along with her, not at her, like she’d imagined.
“21st April, 1996. Dear Camila, don’t judge me, please. I don’t want to tell this to anyone else. Today, I was baking and Jon and Robb were swimming outside. I could see them through the window and Jon looked so good. His body is so strong. He’s such a man.”
A girl in the front laughed loudly. As she looked up, she caught Robb’s eyes by mistake. He looked like he wanted the sweet release of death.
“Then, after baking, I went upstairs and… oh Camila, I touched myself. I’ve never done that before. I thought about how sexy Jon would look in a Superman costume. And how good it would feel if he carried me around like that. Attached is a drawing I made of Jon and I flying. And another drawing of us in bed, fulfilling our passion. And another one from an aerial view.” As she spoke, she pressed on the clicker, going through several photos of the drawings she had made.
The audience laughed loudly, some people hooted loudly at the aerial view of the cartoon Jon and Sansa in bed.
“10th June, 1997. Dear Camila, I’m going to die! Apparently, Jeyne heard from Margaery who heard from Jeyne W. who heard from Val that Jon likes a girl! She’s from… public school. I don’t know what he sees in her!” She paused.
“All I have to say is, after we’re married, I’m going to tease him about this. Then, who knows, maybe we’ll go make love or something.”
As she finished, she curtsied jokingly. The crowd laughed loudly and some of the ones who had made the connection hooted loudly. Everyone she saw was nodding or joking around, because, yeah, everyone had embarrassing crushes when they were sixteen.
As she stepped off into the backstage room, she took a second to compose herself before walking in. Jon was standing right near the entrance.
He hugged her the second she came in, laughing. “I had no idea you were that good at drawing.”
She groaned, unable to take the smile off her face all the way. “I told you not to listen, didn’t I.”
“It was adorable. I’d die if I missed it.” His grin reached his ears.
“Oh, shut it.” She smiled back at him though, helpless to his charms. They stood in silence for a second, before she took his hand and walked him back over to the sofa they’d been standing next to earlier. His hand was warm and smooth, much bigger than hers.
“So,” she attempted to sound casual, failing miserably, “where do you live?”
Jon replied instantaneously, “Right here, a few blocks out. You?” He sounded just as anxious as she did.
“Where I used to. I got an apartment four streets away from our house.” Sansa couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice.
Jon clasped her hand tighter. “That’s just fifteen kilometres away!”
“Fourteen, actually.” She felt giddy with the thought of the possibilities.
His face stretched into an impossibly happy smile, and hers mimicked his. They probably looked like two dolts. Two extremely happy dolts.
The host spoke again on the stage, loudly. “Now I’m going to call out all our performers, and we’ll think about all the lessons we learnt tonight.”
As he began, Jon got up, still clutching her hand tightly, pulling her to the stage entrance where the performers had arranged themselves in order of appearance. There, he looked immensely regretful to pull his hand away to go stand closer to the stage.
“And Jon Snow, who has taught us that it’s always best to keep up with your fashion sense over the years.”
Jon walked onstage as the crowd cheered.
After a while, she heard her own name. “Sansa Stark, who’s taught us that while you can never fully understand love, you can definitely draw it in aerial view.”
She stepped out, as the audience claps and hoots, looking sideways at Jon once she situated herself. They gave each other silent, private smiles.
“But most of all, we learned, as we do in every edition of Mortified: we are freaks, and we are fragile, and we all survived. Thank you so much, have a good night.” The host finished.
Everyone took a final bow, holding hands, before walking offstage. Jon caught up with Sansa in a second, walking with her.
As they got to the room, Jon stopped, looking at her. “So… what now? Are we going to see each other again?”
Sansa looked at him, she hadn’t even considered not meeting him again after this. “Hey, it’s a given to me that we’re going out now. Indefinitely.”
Jon grinned at her toothily, breathing out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known he was holding. “Good, I want to go out with you. Indefinitely.”
She grinned right back because she was so fucking elated and she was on the highest level of heaven right and she was so fucking in love with Jon Snow.
Sansa remembered how she had planned to tell Jon how she felt about him, how she’d been feeling all those years, but couldn’t find it in her to just fucking grab Jon and kiss him.
She did now though, and she had the courage, and so she walked right up to Jon and fit their mouths together, reveling in the way Jon laughed into her mouth, his large hands gripping Sansa’s shoulders as she made an excited noise in the back of her throat.
Maybe things did work out alright in the end, just as long as they avoided Robb and Arya for the rest of their lives. Your first love wasn’t meant to be forgotten, after all.