Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun rises over the hillside,

And breaks away the fog,

All is quiet and calm,

In the stillness of morning’s light.

We lay side by side, quiet, but comfortable, on the rooftop porch. The world around us has yet to awaken--the mist hangs heavy in the air, the sky an ever lightening gray-blue.

He says it will be twilight soon.

I lay my hands flat against my stomach, staring over the treeline, waiting for the color to shift, for the sun to come. My eyelids droop; another all nighter, another losing battle with insomnia.

His hand reaches out to cradle mine. I turn to look at him. He’s turned on his side, staring right into my eyes, trying to read me. I give him a smile, but when he doesn't return it, my face falls.

“What's up?” I whisper.

In hues of Purple, Pink, then Blue,

The restless sleep I tossed and turned,

Will come to end at dawn’s rise,

And you will be by my side.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“...Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

His eyes shift nervously to the shingles. His thumb unconsciously rubs the back of my hand. “Don’t know. Doesn’t seem like you want to be here…”

I huff, my exhaustion coming across more annoyed than I’d intended, “I’m tired.”

“Of me?”

My eyes widen, “What? Where would you get an idea like that?”

He smiles, but it’s self deprecating. His eyes seem lost as he tries to explain, “Don’t know. I’m not really sure why I said it, to be honest.”

If this is some kind of attempt at humor, I'm not sure I like it. “I'm not tired of you. I would never be tired of you! You shouldn't think like that.”

He hesitates, until he says, “Okay.”

I turn to look back at the sky. After a moment, he does the same. 

The crisp morning air smells earthy and sweet. My stomach churns sharply. The morning mist fills my vision until-- oh...that’s not mist .

Do you believe in soulmates my dear?

Sometimes I find it hard to believe,

That the place that you want to spend your mornings,

Is right here next to me.

"Hey um, what was that? Why did you say that?" I ask.

“Sorry, I guess I'm just wondering...I mean, Is this what love is?” His next words shake me to my core. I feel the loss of his touch, as he takes his hand back and cradles his arms.

“...Yes? W-what? What do you mean?” I babble, not sure how to answer. How did we get here? Where are we going with this? And more importantly, why are we going in this direction?

He sits up. “I want to be. In love with you. But are we too different? Are we opposites, two opposing souls, struggling to connect? To find a common tether to wrap ourselves to? Are we linked by a red string of fate, or are we making red strings out of our own blood and desperation--”

“Wirt, don’t you dare start spouting some bullshit, poetic excuse!”

He snaps his mouth shut, “S-sorry.”

I sit up, violently pushing back the moisture from my eyes. I can hear the birds chirping, welcoming in the dawn. The gray gives way to an orange haze. 

And I’ve never wanted for a morning to not come, not until today.

The world is coming alive,

As lovers we reside,

But second guessing takes my mind,

And turns us into stranger times.

Struggling on what to say, for a long while we don't say anything. We keep staring out at the expanse of forest before us--trying to find our next words. Trying to collect our thoughts--trying to work up the nerve. 

He finds them faster than I do: “If this is what love is supposed to feel like...I’m not...I’m not sure if I want this, Dipper.” 

My mouth falls open. “Where is all this coming from?”

Wirt fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “I think...it’s always been kind of--here?” he motions towards himself. “Haaah, wow...um--” He starts tearing up. “Y-yeah, that um...wow. I didn’t realize admitting it would--um…” He clutches his jaw, and I can see him struggling not to make a noise.

“Wirt?”

“I want--- sniff-- I want to be. I..I want to be this person that can be--you know--” He doesn’t elaborate. “That can--that you--that we. Shhit! I’m, I’m suddenly really in-articulate, hah! Isn’t that funny? To not have the right words--that’s--that’s not like me at all! I really didn’t think this would--ha-happen?” 

I reach out to touch his shoulder, to steady him. But then I realize, that's probably the last thing he wants from me, so reluctantly, I put my hand down. 

He takes a few shallow breaths before trying again. He doesn’t seem any better, but at least he’s talking, “It’s like there’s me--and there’s you! And you’re this...amazing, awesome, cool, adventuring badass, who can do anything he sets his mind to. And there’s me; this quiet, shy, poetic, sensitive coward--who is constantly second guessing everything he does. And that--that kind of stuff. That’s like, in the long run, that stuff doesn’t last. You know? Those kinds of differences in personality, they don’t mesh, they don’t work well together. And I don’t--I don’t want to get attached to that kind of inevitable. Because that, that’s going to hurt. A lot. Probably you, but definitely me. And I don’t--I don’t think I could handle that.”

My chest heaves up and down, but I force the words I squeeze out to sound even. “Is all this because I’m struggling to watch the sunrise with you?”

He laughs, but there’s no punchline. “N-no! No, god no! It’s not that. It’s so much more than that. I...I was thinking all night! And I couldn’t sleep, because I was thinking about what Mabel said--”

“--What does Mabel have to do with this?” I interject.

He turns on me, and all hell breaks forth. “Soulmates?! Dipper! Soulmates! We’re not soulmates! And-and can you sit here and say that--that this is what you imagine when you think of your soulmate? Is this the person your soulmate is supposed to be? Is this where you want to be?”

I don’t know how to answer him. I’m too stunned by his outburst to speak.

“I wanted to feel something, when we were watching the sunrise. I wanted there to be this moment, as we lay in the warm glow--that made all the doubts fall away. Where everything would just click into place, and I could say, ‘It’s okay. We’re going to be okay!’ That morning would bring a new day, and with it, erase the nightmares from yesterday. B-but that didn’t happen! I looked over, and you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else, and it just--that moment of clicking into place never came. And I don’t know if it will ever come!”

Soulmates...Soulmates...Soulmates…?

My mind is splitting and diverging down multiple avenues of consciousness. All the things I want to say start flashing through my mind, like strobe lights:

I want to be here.
This, right now, is where I want to be!
Next to you.
Even sleep deprived, and cranky, I don't want to watch the sunrise with anyone else.
I'm happy here. Please believe that I'm happy.
You're not like how I imagined, but I don't think that's what I wanted. That's not what I need.
A-and I'm scared too. 
I'm scared I'm too young, too immature, too reckless for someone like you.
You're not the only one with doubts.
I-I know we're not perfect, and our lives aren't perfect, and things always get scary, especially when you're with someone like me--but! 
...But I'm happy. I really am.
...Was it only me? Was I the only one thinking it was okay? Was I the only one happy in our relationship?
W-what can I do?
What can I do to make you believe me?
What can I say to make you stay?
How do I erase those doubts?
Tell me what I can do!
Tell me what I need to do!
I want to fix this.
I can fix this!
We can fix this!
Just tell me what to do, Wirt!
Please!
Please, help me.
Please, tell me how...


...Because I don't want to lose you.

But none of that is what I say. I spit my next words with arduous venom, “Who gives a shit about soulmates? They’re not real.”

Something comes out of me, something I don't like.

The sun in your eyes,

I hope that you’ll never see,

The regret in mine,

As I try and let you go.

Now I’m the one who’s stumped him.

"W-what?" He falters. 

Take it back. TAKE IT BACK!

My mouth moves on it's own accord--some sort of selfish part of me, the part of me that's hurting, is wanting to take a piece of him with it. 

"I said soulmates aren't real. That's just some crap that card companies made up to sell their merchandise to gullible lovesick fools on an equally factious holiday. It's just gooey mush that people like my sister eat up." I've been spending too much time with Grunkle Stan lately. This sounds like the bitter ramblings of a man trying to run from his own insecurities. But just like Grunkle Stan, I dig my heels in harder.

“H-how could you say soulmates aren’t real? How do you know they’re not!? Love is supposed to--it’s supposed to be this big and beautiful thing. It’s supposed to feel right--you should feel right, being with the person that you’re with,” he tries to argue.

But I shut it down. Immediately. “And it’s just supposed to click into place? Like a perfect puzzle piece? Bullshit! Love doesn’t just happen--it builds slowly--it’s supposed to come naturally! You of all people should know that. Love doesn’t just happen. It has its highs and lows, it’s sunrises and fucking sunsets! It’s complicated, and messy, and imperfectly perfect! You’re always praising the beauty of poetry and it’s intricacies in love--it’s subtle nuances. But right now you want to pretend love just...happens!”

Wirt looks down, face splotchy. 

That when it actually clicks into place. “You’re trying to run away. You’re scared of being closer to me. Because you think you’re not good enough.”

His hands are trembling. His bottom lip wobbling. He sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip, until he’s close to drawing blood.

I put a lid over the proverbial pot of boiling water. There's a moment. A second when my mind calms. I see that he's in pain, and I know deep down, that's not what I wanted. I didn't want this, for things to get this out of hand. I think, deep down, he didn't want this either. I try to take a breath, in hopes it'll calm myself. But each breath I take is hot with resentment, and that breathing quickly turns into dry heaving. Why didn't he tell me he was feeling this way? Why is this the first time I've learned that anything is wrong? Was I being too optimistic? Was I being ignorant? Why didn't he come to me? Why? Why? Why?!

The moment fades, and the anger starts boiling over, hot water bubbling out the side of the lid.

“Why do you get to decide what you think is best for me?” I demand.

“I--Because---I don’t…I mean...”

The lid pops off as I snarl, “Don’t fucking stutter like you don’t know! I want answers! Don't I deserve that much?”

He shakes his head, unable to answer. Or he's refusing to.

“So that’s just it then? You get to spout your bullshit about soulmates and how we’re incompatible, because the fucking sunrise isn’t setting the mood, and I get to sit here with my thumb up my ass, while you blindside me? You get to negate my feelings, because my sister brought up a concept that is inherently unattainable, and--because you feel you don’t meet those unattainable standards--decided for me that I’m better off without you. You get to run away, guilt free, and leave me to pick up the shattered pieces of my own heart-- cause love doesn’t look like this?  Great, cool, thanks for that Wirt. You’re really looking out for my best interest.” My mouth is twisted ugly. I'm spewing ugly words. Everything about me feels ugly.

Right now, it's hard to care.

His sorry's are punctuated by muffled sobs.

I don't want his sorry's. They're just salt in my wounds. “You didn't even talk to me. You didn't even let me know. You just...you just decided for yourself..." 

My voice is horribly small, "If I was making you feel this way, you should have told me. I could have done something. I would have wanted to do something. You didn't even give me a chance to defend myself. To tell you I--...I...that I... ... .. .” Oh, what's the point?

I stand. He starts at the sudden movement, then watches me cautiously, unsure of what I’m going to do next. Afraid that I might do something stupid.

Something stupid sounds like a good idea.  

“There’s the sunrise,” I bitterly remark. My hands are shaking so badly. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I just want my hands to stop trembling.

There’s a gorgeous, orange glow, painting the silhouettes of the trees, making them look warm and inviting. I can hear the sounds of the forest as they start to awaken--the frogs croaking near the lake, the squirrels squeaking for their next meal, the birds singing to their babies. The scent of nature is even stronger--even sweeter, even saltier than before. It’s all so invigorating. 

It would have been here that Wirt would have said something romantic, something to make me swoon.

I don’t want to think about him saying anything romantic. Because those words are no longer meant for me.

I force back my tears. The trembling in my hands has made its way up to my throat, “Maybe the next time you watch it, it’ll be with your soulmate. And it’ll feel just right.”

I take a running start and leap to the nearest branch of an overgrown oak. Wirt yells my name, clearly startled by my means of escape.

I wish I could take it all back.  
I wish I didn't say whatever I thought would hurt him the most.
I wish I didn't let my temper get the better of me.
I wish I believed in soulmates, the way he did. I wish I understood it more.
I wish he believed in me. I wish he trusted me when I said I loved him.
I wish I was more forthright about my feelings. I wish I had been less shy, less unsure. 
I wish I gave him more reasons to believe in me. I wish I could have eased any prior doubts.
I wish I was more perceptive. I wish I saw the signs.
I wish I could have prevented this. I wish I had stopped this.
I wish I had made him happier. I wish I had made him feel secure in our relationship.
I wish I had done better.
I wish I was a better man.
I wish, I wish, Iwish...

I wish I could stay on this rooftop, welcoming in the morning, with him.

I take a deep breath, then put one hand over the other, until I’m on the ground, and running for the woods.

The sun sets in the west,

I’ve let time tell me what is right,

And what is wrong,

And now I’ve lost all the time I had left.

“Hey...mind if I sit here?”

I lift the book up off my face to see who’s talking. It’s been a year, but I don’t think I could forget his face if a million years had passed.

“...Sure,” I say, after much deliberation.

He sits down, leaving very little space between us. I try to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“You sister told me where you were. I got a thorough tongue lashing, before she let me see you. Said something about if I break your heart again, she’ll cut off my music makers...I don’t think she was talking about my fingers,” he chuckles nervously.

“I meant, what are you doing here in Gravity Falls?”

He drums his index and middle finger against the back of his hand, “I don’t know--I guess--” He furrows his brow, seemingly pissed. At first I think it’s directed at me, but after a moment, I realize it’s at himself. He stops drumming his fingers and closes his eyes, inhaling slowly. When he exhales, his brow unfurrows, and there’s a sudden shift in his demeanor. Like he’s gained some confidence. “Not, I guess. Not, I don’t know. I do know--I missed here. I missed you.”

I sit up. I don’t really have a response to that, so I just crinkle the edges of the pages of my book, trying to occupy myself.

“I know it’s probably a little too late for all that, huh?” That confidence falters, but he doesn’t let it knock him down. He pushes through the tension. “I know I don’t really have the right to come crawling back after what I put you through. I still--I wanted to see you again. That’s all there really is to it.”

“You disappeared last year. I didn’t see you for the rest of that summer. I knew you were still here--Greg kept coming over despite your absence. ..But you were avoiding me.”

“I was running away.”

I’ve traversed this long stretch of hue,

In search of what it was I once knew,

But if I could turn back to sunrise,

I’d hope to stay with you.

The book slips from my hands and clatters off the rooftop. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. 

He twists a loose thread on his jeans. He can’t meet my eyes, but I know this is taking all his courage.

“You’re just going to admit that?” 

He flicks the loose thread away, “Yeah. I am. You were right. I was running away. I ran away. I was afraid to be with you. I was afraid that you would probably never like me the way I liked you. ...I was falling in love, and I was scared you wouldn’t reciprocate it.”

Even a year later, his words sting. “You're still so certain that I never liked you...” Was I being too hopeful? Are we just spinning our wheels, all over again? I spent so much time living with my regret; I spent a whole year trying to accept the mistakes I'd made--never expecting another chance. And now that it's here, am I fated to just replay the same, endless loop?  

“It wasn’t whether you liked me, or not. It was whether you could fall in love with me? If you could see me as your soulmate?”

 I sigh, “Soulmates, what does that even mean? Do you even know?”

“Somedays. Somedays it's a little more abstract. Even if you think it’s fake--even if it’s all made up bullshit--it matters to me. All that poetry nuance bullshit--you know?” He raises his head, and I see that self deprecating smile. But there’s a flash of something in his eyes--Wistful? 

It’s tender enough that I feel my guard coming down. I don’t know if I want that. 

He continues, “I didn’t want to doubt my feelings. I didn’t want to doubt your feelings. But when I measured our accomplishments, I felt like you were miles ahead of me--that you were far more impressive than I could ever hope to be, and that you were only going to get farther from me. That’s when it all started collapsing in on itself; all my doubts, and the what-ifs, all the insecurities and cynicism. I was imploding from within.”

“Wirt…” 

You weren't the only one! You weren't the only one that felt inadequate. I promise, it wasn't just you!

Those thoughts race through my mind, but I still can't say them aloud. I want to scream, feeling so useless.

“I kept imagining one day you’d wake up, and see me, and you’d feel nothing.”

My chest constricts at his confession. "You...you really thought that would happen?"

It's hard to believe-- even if it's plausible. We've never been the most confident people in the world, so there was never any doubt that we wouldn't face some adversity, some misgivings in our future. But that's why I thought we meshed so well together. I thought it'd be easier to share our apprehensions with one another--that we wouldn't hide our worries so quickly from each other. We were aware of our anxieties, and we delighted in having a kindred spirit who comprehended those feelings. That's why I always assumed it'd be easiest to talk about the things that scared us, because chances were, if he was feeling a certain way, I'd also be drawing the same conclusion. At least, for me, it was easier; Wirt had always been considerate to my feelings. And his soft manner of reassurance had always quelled my heart in a way not many had before.

This revelation has me questioning if we were ever on the same page. If I was the only one who thought that way. And more painful to think--had I never proven to Wirt that I could be dependable?

“I couldn’t stop it. I was completely enamored with you. And in that moment of insecurity, I needed you to be in the same place that I was. I needed absolute certainty that you wanted to be with me. It was really clingy, and pretty toxic--and I’m sorry.”

I really never expected this conversation--I had gotten to a point, after months of zero contact, that this would be the end of things between us. That slowly we would drift apart, until our time together had been a faded, summer memory. I was sure that’s where our story ended. But he's back, and he's apologizing, and I’m not sure what to feel anymore. My brain is going through all the options of what I should say, but I remember the last time I had this many choices, and I remember what it was I chose to say. I don't want to make that mistake again.

I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do. 

What is a soulmate?

It was a question I was too afraid to know

And I ran without ever telling you,

That I wanted ‘us’ to be the answer.

I inch forward, hoping to get more insight. I prompt, “Wirt...is this why you came back? Are you just here to apologize?”

Wirt looks out onto the horizon. The sun lowers into the sky, and shades his face in warm, orange afterglows. His hair gently blows in the wind. 

“Sunsets are always kind of sad. They’re the ending of something. The temporary death of the sun, of summer, or light and warmth. They’re the passage into darkness. Sunsets are sort of heartbreaking, because you know it’s a goodbye. But the temporary death will always come with the sunrise--the return of light.”

I nod solemnly, praying that there's still more. But I don't interrupt, because if there is more, than I want to listen. For once, I'm going to listen.

His eyes turn wet and unfocused. “So why is it that sunrises make me feel like crying? And why does the setting of the sun fill me with renewal? Maybe it’s because I said goodbye during the sunrise--and it’s with this sunset that I want to start again.”

He turns to me, and reaches out his hand, turning it palm side up. He waits patiently, neither demanding, nor expecting. I know what he’s asking. And yet I don’t. I can’t accept the possibility he’s presenting me--I was so certain that such a possibility would never happen. Is he really implying what I think he is?

Slowly, I put my hand in his. His face melts with relief, as his fingers curl to hold mine more firmly. I don’t react, because I’m not sure if this is something I still want. Or rather, it's not something I feel I deserve.

“I spent a year, trying to figure out all the junk that was cluttering my mind. I spent a whole year trying to clean and organize my thoughts--hoping that eventually I’d figure it out. Trying to define what a soulmate was to me--what it was I wanted from it. You’d think it would come to me with enough deliberation, but no. It wasn’t anything complex like that--I didn’t have this checklist that I checked off. The answer was actually simple. It hit me softly, as I was falling asleep.”

He rubs his thumb across my skin, and my heart skips. I cling to his every word. “My room was bathed in this warm glow. Everything was awash in orange, and there was this feeling of contentment--familiarity. I kept trying to place that nostalgic feeling; where had I seen this before? And it came to me: this feeling was reminiscent of waking up next to you.”

I force myself to swallow. “Me?”

“Yeah, you, Dipper. There were mornings when I’d wake before you, and you’d be turned towards me, and the light from the attic would highlight your cheeks to the point I could see your freckles. Your curls would be toffee light, and your lips would be soft and pink, perfectly kissable. You’d have these stray strands from all the tossing you did in bed, and I’d brush them back off your face, and tuck them behind your ear--I don’t know if you ever realized it, but you’d break into this slow, unconscious smile. And that’s when that warm glow would appear. Except, it wasn’t coming from the break of dawn, it was all coming from in here.” He uses his free hand to circle his chest. “My entire chest would fill with amber contentment; this happy, slow kind of adoration.”

But the warmth of my chest could never forget,

The sweet touch of your hand,

The way your eyes crinkled when you’d laugh,

So I turned on my heel to run for the hillside

He swallows, and now both hands are resting on mine. “What I’m trying to say is: Dipper, I love you. And I don’t want to run away anymore. I still don’t know if you’re my soulmate --it’s hard not to despair that I’ll never measure up to you, that I might always be lackluster. You’re so amazing; and more than anything I want to be amazing to you, for you--and I know last year I was anything but. I don’t deserve you, I’m aware of that...but, this burning in my chest, I can’t let go of it. When I was with you, so often that warm glow illuminated you, and followed you where you went, and that year without you was a cold extinguish on my heart. I’m looking at you right now, with the sun setting over your features; you are the picture of love that I tried to deny, tried to prevent. I don’t want to make that same mistake. Maybe there isn’t a thing such as soulmates, but my soul yearns for you. And I’m okay with that being as close as it gets.”

He’s always been so good with poetry, with words. I stare at him, speechless.  

“I know I’m asking a lot. And I’m fully prepared for you to say no. But I came here anyway, if anything--to finally give you the truth that you wanted. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. Some might say, it’s better late than never, but you don’t deserve that kind of excuse. Dipper, I’m sorry. I want to try to again. I’m asking for a second chance...but I understand if I’m too late. I made you wait a long time.”

And now he’s done. And everything is in my court. My decision, what I say next. Whatever it is, that’ll be final. I know that whatever I answer, he’ll accept it. I think of the way he treated me, the way he left me vulnerable. I think about the anger and hurt that came with his break up, the things I said in retaliation. I think about the loneliness that followed those many months, as I tried to get over him, mixing with the guilt of my cruel words, wishing I could come back. There’s a flash of that viciousness from before. I almost want to slap him, and tell him to never come back. That he hurt me, that I hurt him, and we're just going to do it all over again. That he shouldn't have come at all.

The last vestiges of light linger in the sky, lavender and citrus. We’re reaching the end of dusk, and night will be upon us soon.

I look into his somber, but steadfast, gray eyes. There’s a finality that wasn’t there before; a strength that didn’t exist. And the glow of afternoon sets them alight in a soft, amber shade. Like hot coals burning. 

My anger dissipates in an instant--in fact, I'm glad that it's gone. I didn't want it to begin with. It was all just nonsense I told myself, to protect myself, but all it had really done was made things worse. I don't want to cling to that anymore. I never wanted to.

Everything else in my mind falls away, until only one thought remains: I’ve missed him too.

“I never wanted to say goodbye. I never wanted to make you feel inadequate. I was always so proud to be your boyfriend. It hurt me so much, that you thought I was bored of you, or that I was growing tired. That couldn't have been farther from the truth--Wirt, being with you was a stability I was sorely missing. I felt balanced, in control-- I was never lacking, nor was life ever lackluster. Being with you was a safe haven from all the craziness of my daily routine, from the harrowing monsters and demons of Gravity Falls; you were a place to call home."

Wirt's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. I laugh at his dumbfounded expression, but it quickly turns into an amalgamation of whimpering and sniffling. 

"I never meant to make you feel like you were less. I never wanted to push you away. If it was from something I said, or did, I wish I had known sooner, so I could have corrected it. I didn't like that you assumed my feelings for me, but I also have a hard time separating fantasy from reality--so I could understand why you might think that way. It was never true, but instead of getting mad, and running away, I should have sat down and shared my own feelings. I let my emotions blind me--I wanted to hurt you back, because it felt like you were attacking me with things that weren't true. It felt like you weren't listening, or you had already made up your mind on the fact. But I should have been listening to you. When you said you felt like you were losing me, whether it was a thought you had that minute, or a thought you had carried with you for days, I should have refuted it. I could have saved a year of wallowing, if I had just opened up, and told you the truth.”

"Dipper, I don't know if I was in the right place to have even accepted it. I might not have believed you," Wirt tries to dissuade me.

I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. I didn't try at all. I had a chance to show you I cared, and I didn't. I could have been vulnerable, but instead I rose up my shackles. You might not have believed me, but I might have soothed you in your time of need, just with that affirmation that you mattered to me. That probably would have meant everything to you, wouldn't it?"

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Yeah.”

A feeling low in the pit of my stomach starts to spread throughout my chest, and into my arms-- until the tips of my fingers, the tips of my toes, my ears, and tongue, and lips-- they’re bathing in this gentle glow.

I hesitated then. I don't this time.

I reach out, and wipe his tear away. “Maybe we're not soulmates...who can say? But there's a stirring in my soul. And it glows warm when it's closest to you. It's that marigold familiarity that I liked when you first held my hand. When you held me through a nightmare. When you saved me from the gnomes, and that gremgoblin, and those witches, and the harpies. ...When you first kissed me. My life isn't exactly stable, but you grounded me, and made it safe to continue doing what I loved, knowing you were always there to lend a helping hand, or clean me up when I fucked up royally. You were a house to call home, a place for my soul to reside. Where I could rest contently, away from everything else. That's something that hasn't gone away, Wirt. That warmth. It's still here. It wants to come home. It might take longer to find it's way back...but it's willing to make the trek, if your door is still open?"

My hands are shaking, but so are his. I take a final breath, "You make me happy, and that, Wirt, is a comfortable thought."

The sun in your eyes,

Was actually always in me,

I rub away the blinding doubt,

Your love will be my clarity.

The last bits of sunset disappear behind the treelines; the orange glow falling from our faces. We sit side by side, watching it go.

It will be twilight soon, I tell him.

I cradle his hand in mine, determined to not let go. He gives my hand a tentative squeeze--he's not planning to either. I turn to look at him, as he turns to look at me. I study his face, trying to read him; I'm still scared. I want to know what he's thinking. I want to be certain that it's okay. He flashes me a gentle smile, and that tells me all I need to know. I smile back. It's okay. This time, it's really, truly, okay.

I feel it in my soul. That comfortable glow.

And it feels, not quite like home--but with enough time, it will be. This time, it really, truly, will be.