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1
Young Josie Saltzman pokes her head out into the hallway, peering around from the safety of her mostly closed door. Her eyes dart to the door across from her own and the whiteboard that is hanging on it.
H.M. - DO NOT ENTER
Short.
Straightforward.
Much like the girl inside of the room.
Josie’s heart does a little flip at the mere thought of Hope. It must not land properly in her chest, because suddenly she feels the unsteady beat of it everywhere. It pounds in her ears and drowns out the sound of breakfast going on downstairs, it causes her throat to become unusually tight, and it makes her stomach throb with unease and butterflies.
She crosses the hall in a rush, clutching a white envelope in her chubby hand.
The letter inside might as well beat, too, because it sure as hell contains in her heart. Josie slips it under the door, giving both her words and all of her love to Hope Mikaelson in a single second.
That single second passes, as time tends to do, and Josie panics.
Hope has avoided her for years, dodged her at every turn. The most Josie has ever gotten out of her is a small smile, and even that had felt forced since it was the twins’ birthday. Why would Hope return her feelings? Why would Hope accept her heart?
The answer is: she wouldn’t.
Josie scrambles to find something to do to fix all of this, and finally sets her hand under the crack in the door, aiming for the letter.
“Ignalusa.”
That definitely does not go as planned.
2
Hope Mikaelson stands alone in her room with a single, red rose held behind her back.
She paces back and forth anxiously, the wooden floorboards creaking under her weight, and tries to think of the proper thing to say. Words swirl in her head, some of them far too old-fashioned and embarrassing, taken from her uncle, Elijah’s, instruction. Words like courtship and my heart will forever be held in your delicate hands.
Words she couldn’t possibly say to Josie.
Even if Hope thinks that they’re true. Even if she sometimes dreams of dropping to her knees in front of the siphoner and declaring her immense, all-consuming love for her. It may seem a little bit ridiculous, considering Hope is fourteen, but how could she resist her feelings when Josie’s smile is like sunshine and her voice melts every cold inch of Hope’s bones.
“I… I think you’re really pretty.” Hope trips over her words, imagining Josie standing right in front of her. “And I like y-you a lot.”
Pathetic.
Hope huffs, two seconds away from chucking the rose across the room and stomping on it. This is too hard. Josie isn’t even here and still, she can barely string a sentence together.
She tries again. “My dearest Josette, not a day has gone by where I do not think of you…”
My dearest Josette?
Ew.
Hope is a teenager, not an old man trying to ask Josie to marry her. Josie would probably laugh in her face if she tried to say any of those things, but she can’t bring herself to ask for something as simple and crude as a night spent Netflix and chilling.
Maybe a study date at the Old Mill could work.
She clears her throat, deciding to make a third attempt. “Would you like to come with me to—“
“Are you talking to yourself?” Alyssa Chang, nosy as ever, stands in the doorway, watching Hope practice.
Hope’s cheeks flame red in embarrassment and, in a moment of humiliation and anger, she throws the rose at Alyssa, hoping one of the thorns hits her in the eye. Unfortunately, Alyssa catches it with ease and smirks smugly at a fuming Hope.
“Ooo.” Alyssa twirls it between her fingers, a flirty glint in her eye. Hope shudders in disgust. “This for me, Mikaelson?”
“Get out!”
3
The first thing Hope thinks of when she gets out of Malivore is if Josie’s plants bloomed well in the summertime.
Soon, she thinks of other things, like the rest of her friends and the school she hasn’t seen in so, so long, but eventually her mind shoots right back to Josie. Hope misses catching her friendly smile every morning, the warmth that emits from their joined hands during a spell, the sweet smell of Josie on her bed after a night spent reading up on monsters.
She misses Josie.
She misses Josie so much that it takes her by surprise. She stumbles forward, her chest aching along with the rest of her, and has to grab onto a wall to ground herself. Hope isn’t sure if it’s the sudden shift in scenery or the rush of being able to walk without hearing Clarke’s annoying voice, but her heartbeat picks up speed in no time.
Maybe it’s something else entirely.
Hope isn’t sure, but she thinks of Josie waiting around for her somewhere, and she runs.
4
Josie’s head spins as she is yanked back to the forefront of her mind. She holds onto the edge of the boxing cage, not sure why it’s even there in the first place, tries to find something familiar to ground herself to.
“Hope.”
“Jo, is that you?” Hope stands up, her expression soft and searching. Longing.
It is her.
Josie wants to tell Hope not to fight for her. She can only hold onto her consciousness for a tiny, short second, and it may be the last one that she will get. She wants to tell Hope that she doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt because of her, that she doesn’t want Hope to live the rest of her life feeling guilty or trying to save her.
She loves Hope.
She loves her enough to want her far, far from here, somewhere safe and happy.
Josie tries to say all of this and more, but it isn’t long before Dark Josie takes control again, now more enraged than ever, spitting out lies to crush Hope’s spirit.
“I don’t even think she likes you.”
5
The aftermath of Dark Josie (an embarrassing title that Josie absolutely loathes) is painful and long, but, like everything else, it eventually starts to fade away. Soon enough, people start looking at Josie like she is a person again, and not just a collection of her past mistakes. Everyone slowly moves on to the next monster, to the next fight, and almost everyone forgets the events of the last year.
Almost everyone.
Three months later, after everything, history repeats itself. Not in the sense that Dark Josie returns, but in the sense that Josie finds herself wanting to tell Hope how she feels. Again. With a rose, this time.
Josie gathers her courage one morning, reminds herself that she isn’t twelve anymore (she has no reason to be nervous over something as silly as a crush) and knocks on Hope’s door.
“Jo—“
“Hope—“
Both of them pause, blushing. Hope stares at the ceiling while Josie drops her eyes to the floor. An awkward silence rolls between them for a minute, neither of the girls willing to make eye contact for long. It’s Josie, who looks up first and notices the envelope in Hope’s hands.
Her eyebrows raise.
“Here.” Josie sheepishly holds out the flower, her blush darkening to a deep red. “This is for you.”
“For me?” Hope repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Well. I wrote this for you.” Hope stammers uselessly. Cute. “So… here.”
They do a quick swap, so that Hope has Josie’s rose and Josie has Hope’s letter. Josie isn’t sure if she should stand there and read it in front of Hope or if she should retreat to her room, but she came here to see Hope, so running away seems sort of pointless.
Josie opens up the envelope. At least, she tries, before Hope squeaks out a dying-animal noise and stops her.
“Wait!” Hope attempts to snatch it back. “You can’t read it in front of me.”
“Why?” Josie giggles at having Hope red-faced and embarrassed over something that couldn’t take up more than a page. “I thought it was for me?”
“It is.”
Childishly, Josie holds the envelope up above her head, several inches higher from where Hope can reach.
Hope tilts forwards, onto her tippy toes, like she actually plans on climbing Josie or hopping up to grab it from her, but then seems to think better of it and settles back down to her usual height with a glare.
“You know I could just tackle you, right?” Hope asks and Josie laughs, incredibly amused.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t.” She replies confidently and Hope takes a noticeable swallow, looking at the floor strangely. “You’re too sweet for that. It’s, uh… it’s really cute, actually.”
Before Josie can lose her courage, she leans in and quickly presses her lips to Hope’s forehead. She lingers nearby, never able to leave Hope for too long, and, in another bout of bravery, kisses Hope again. Properly this time, on the mouth.
Their lips collide softly, experimentally, and Josie is almost surprised by how gentle Hope is being with her, but she feels it like a hot iron throughout her entire body.
When they pull away, Hope is beet red. “I’m not cute.”
Josie laughs.