Archive of Our Own

Ava moves to the block the summer she turns seven, freshly adopted and terrified of the prospect of calling somewhere home permanently – she’s never done it before – but Mr. Hunter, her social worker, told her that it isn’t the worst thing in the world – to have a home, to find a place where living doesn’t have to hurt all the time. 

Within the first week, she decides that he was unbelievably, hilariously wrong. 

Kids on the street have already made friends – Oliver and Tommy, Laurel and Felicity, Nate, Behrad and Ray, Zari and Charlie, Rory is a loner, but everybody knows that – and it’s hard to make her way into dynamics that already exist. 

Ava spends most days alone. Randy is nice enough, and he heads to work early around six-thirty. Pam is sweet – there are always snacks on the counter, and the house usually smells warm. 

It’s not home, but Ava’s more glad that she isn’t alone than anything. But she still wishes she had some friends, though she understands why she doesn’t. She’s weird, a little odd and a lot too grown up for her age, and somewhere along the way, she forgot to pick up the social cues that everybody else seems to understand. 

It’s difficult for her to reach out – even her first grade teacher described her as cold – and she prefers for people to come to her, if at all. Ava has learned to live without other people. In time, she convinced herself that she likes it this way, to grow up quick and to give herself time to live the slow life later once she’s able to make choices for herself. It’s all too mature, and she knows that. She also knows that growing up how she did, there’s no way she couldn’t be. 

Besides, her self-imposed directive is effective. It stops her from getting attached, from getting her heart broken and having to rebuild. 

But, two weeks into summer, when the sweltering heat has driven most kids inside or into their sprinkler systems and pools, someone comes to the door and, of course, she hasn’t heard Ava’s rule about people. 

While she’s reading, the bell rings. 

The first time, Ava ignores it, thinking Pam will get it. 

The second time, Ava thinks it must be a game of ding-dong ditch. 

The third time— 

The third time, Ava storms out of her room, tossing her book down on the couch and wrenching the door open with as much anger as a seven-year-old can muster before she comes face to face with–

A girl. 

A girl her age with wide blue eyes, sunlight hair and freckles splattered across her nose. 

“Hello,” Ava says, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot while the girl just stares, remembering suddenly what Pam said about opening the door without her but also knowing it’s too late. Now, she has to stand her ground. 

“Hi!” the girl replies cheerfully. “I’m Sara. My dad told me we have a new neighbor. I just got back from camping with my school!” She frowns. “I guess I’m not supposed to be here without him.” She shrugs, as if to say, he’ll figure it out. “But hi!“ 

“Hello,” Ava repeats awkwardly. 

“What’s your name?” the girl – no, Sara – asks. 

“Oh, I’m Ava,” she answers quickly, reaching a hand out for a shake, but Sara only eyes it suspiciously.

“Only adults do that. You don’t look like an adult.” 

Ava draws her hand back, embarrassed, wiping it off on her pants. “No, I’m seven.” 

“Cool! I’m seven too!” Sara tells her brightly, past suspicion forgotten the second it arrived. “Wanna be friends?” 

This time, it’s Ava’s turn to look at her uncertainly, but there’s a look in sweet blue eyes that tells her that no matter what she says, no is probably not an acceptable answer. 

And, for some reason, she doesn’t feel like that’s what she wants to say, either. 

“Okay,” she responds instead, trying to be cool, trying not to betray the fact that she’s never had a friend before. “Do you–“ she starts, but the back door squeaks open before she can finish. 

“Ava?” Pam calls. “Is someone at the door? What have we talked about– Oh, Sara!” she exclaims, and Ava wants to roll her eyes at how obvious the woman’s excitement is that Ava is talking to someone else her age. 

“Hi Mrs. Sharpe,” Sara greets politely, the picture of innocence that she most certainly was not when it was just her and Ava. 

“Hi, dear,” Pam greets. “Would you like to come inside?” 

Mischief flickering across her face for barely a moment, Sara nods brightly. “Can I? It would only be for a minute while Ava gets her shoes.” 

“Gets my shoes—?” 

“—Gets her shoes?” 

Ava and her adoptive mother ask together with disparate amounts of joy in their voices. 

“Yeah!” 

Sara grins brightly, and that’s when Ava sees that the girl – her new friend, supposedly – has both of her bottom canines missing. It might have been endearing if Sara hadn’t just trapped her into going outside in the worst heat of the summer so far. 

“Laurel said Oliver and Tommy are throwing a pool party. All of the kids on the block are going!” 

“How lovely,” Pam replies kindly. “Ava would love to go.” 

“Hey, wait–“ 

*** 

And that’s how Ava ends up lounging on a pool chair, watching the Lance sisters – she soon learned that Laurel and Sara are related – sit atop Tommy and Oliver’s shoulders respectively while they get prepared for a round of chicken. 

Ava’s fingers itch for a book, but she finds none. 

She resorts to looking around the backyard. It’s much nicer than Randy and Pam’s house, shiny stone lining the edge of the pool, well-kept greenery surrounding the perimeter of the space. There’s lemonade and water on a little table by the door. The pitchers are sweating, and Ava realizes that she is too, rolling the long sleeves of her shirt up past her elbows carefully, jumping when somebody bounces down on the chair next to her. 

“Hi! You must be Ava,” a gangly, dark-haired boy guesses loudly. “I’m Ray. Ray Palmer.” He reaches out a hand for a shake. 

Finally, someone like her, Ava laughs to herself. She can’t wait to tell Sara later that Ray wanted to shake her hand. It isn’t just for adults. 

She ignores the fact that her heart has already decided that she would like the girl to stick around. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ray,” she tells him, and strangely, it’s honest. 

Optimism radiates from him, and while it seems like he hasn’t quite grown into his body, the grin on his face makes Ava more comfortable already. It’s nice when people are happy to see her. 

“Ava! Get in the pool!” Sara calls while she tries to shove her sister over. 

“I don’t have a swimsuit!” she yells back. 

Pouting, Sara puts an adorable thinking face on. “At least put your feet in!” 

“I’m wearing jeans.” 

“Why is she wearing jeans?” Laurel asks lowly, and at that, Sara knocks her over and back into the deep end. 

“Be nice. She’s my friend!” her sister reprimands, preening when she casts a look over at Ava, all charm even at her age. 

Despite her better judgment, Ava smiles back, pulls up the cuffs of her jeans, and sits at the edge of the pool, rolling her eyes as best a seven-year-old can manage when Sara swims over to say hi. 

After that day, Laurel never lives down how Sara defended Ava’s honor at her expense.

After that day, Ray starts to come over with cookies, and, during sale season, in his boy scout uniform. 

After that day, Behrad and Nate warm up to her, waving at her in the window on their bikes, Charlie and Zari not far behind with a new girl, Mona, in tow, chattering away about the latest school gossip. Soon, she’s invited to join in. Apparently, they call it Book Club. Ava suspects that they only do that because it means their parents let them hang out more, not that she doesn’t enjoy hearing about the latest thing to happen at school.

And even amongst her extracurriculars – martial arts, captain of the dance team, and a little bit of engineering – Sara makes time for her, stops by with her signature Sara Lance troublemaker smile and just enough charm to make Ava continue to step aside and let her past the threshold. 

Days turn into years, and slowly, Ava emerges from her shell. 

She spends some Saturday nights at the Lance’s, eventually finding favor with Laurel when she makes a regular thing of telling Sara to take up her plate. 

Even Sara’s dad seems to think she’s a good influence. 

She’s given a spot for her glasses to go on the counter in the bathroom, and there’s a spare toothbrush for her in case she ever forgets. 

(She never does.) 

By the time they’re thirteen, Ava can safely call Sara her best friend knowing it’s reciprocated. 

But it also starts when they’re thirteen. 

Boys start to like Sara. Of course they do. And that’s fine by Ava. 

Sara’s pretty. Enough. She’s pretty enough. 

Ava adds the qualifier mostly because she’s too scared of what she’s trying to say when she doesn’t. Still, she can’t deny that it makes sense, boys crushing on her best friend, and that it makes sense they don’t like Ava in all of her awkwardness, doesn’t-know-what-to-do-with-her-body moments, and too much realism for her own good. 

First, there’s Oliver. He goes away quick enough – Felicity Smoak is his tutor, and her nose crinkles when she laughs. She also looks at him like he hung the moon and the stars, and he looks at her that way, too, even if he doesn’t know it yet. 

Then, there’s John. He’s a British foreign exchange student obsessed with sleight of hand tricks that always puzzle Sara and make her laugh. There’s something charming about the accent, though Ava doesn’t really get it. Plus, he smells like smoke. 

Sara can’t be with an underage smoker. 

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, the protectiveness taking hold between her ribs while her stomach knots forty-five times over. She’s never experienced this kind of uncertainty before. 

If Ava’s ever been anything, it’s been certain. 

***

“Dean is just so good looking,” Sara groans. “I mean look at him, he’s perfect!” 

Ava watches in silence. Dean doesn’t seem all that great to her. His jaw is a little too square, the beginnings of a beard too scratchy. 

Wrinkling her nose, Ava shrugs. “He’s alright.” 

“Alright?” Sara asks incredulously. “Aves, that’s the hottest man ever!” 

“If that’s the hottest man ever, we’re going to have serious problems,” she quips back immediately. “Besides, you could do so much better than him.” 

Having discussed their confusing, but similar, attraction to girls – though Ava isn’t sure if she likes boys, too, like Sara does – she does firmly believes that Sara could do so much better than a TV actor. Someone – of any gender – their age and without a beard would be a nice place to start. 

“Better? Better than The Dean Winchester?” 

“Obviously,” Ava replies, cheeks starting to flame, though she isn’t quite sure why. “You’re smart, and you’re pretty. Of course you could do better than that.” She gestures to the screen; the words fly out of her mouth before she can stop them. 

“You really think so?” Sara says softly, turning to her and pausing the show. 

Pressing her lips together nervously, Ava looks back at her and nods. “Of course,” before yelping, “Oof,” as Sara bowles her over into a hug. 

“You know, you’re too good to me,” she whispers lightly. 

“And I always will be,” Ava says back, not realizing what she’s promising even as her heart twists, even as she holds the back of Sara’s head and breathes in the moment, knowing that it will slip through her fingers. 

“C’mon Ava, have more fries!” Sara urges, nudging her. “Behrad made them.”

“That I did, and may I say, they’re super good,” their friend calls from the window of Big Belly Burger where he nabbed a summer job. 

“I try to eat healthy, Sara,” Ava says, like always; they have this conversation every time they go out for fast food. “You know that.” 

“Avaaaa,” she whines, fixing her best friend with her signature pout. 

“Don’t make Mom mad, other Mom,” Nate cuts in quickly. “We took Ava’s car here.” 

“Yeah, but I still have my license. I could drive it if I wanted,” Sara points out with a glare. He backs off quickly, raising his hands in surrender.

“No, you couldn’t,” Ava reminds. “Deed’s in my name, and I’m the only one who’s been driving long enough to legally take us anywhere since you kept failing the test because you wouldn't let me help you study.” 

“I just want you to have some fun,” Sara complains, leaning against her shoulder, oblivious to the way Ava turns her head slightly to watch her, the way she softens. “We’re eighteen! It’s spring break! You don’t have to eat healthy all the time.” 

At the words, she plucks one out of the basket and holds it out. It’s a simple gesture, one that Ava would normally be able to resist no problem, but there’s something about Sara that’s different. Sara has always been different. 

Finally, and gingerly, she takes the fry, begrudgingly taking a bite before her eyebrows raise.

“Hey, B!” she calls. “Not bad!” 

Next to her, she feels Sara swell with joy, her heart turning over when Sara leans up and presses a kiss to her cheek. “That’s my girl.” 

Next to her, Charlie whistles, which immediately leads to receiving a kick under the table from Zari. 

“Ouch!” she grumbles, but she still throws a wink Ava’s way, a grin playing on her lips when Sara pulls her best friend up and out of her chair.  

“Let’s take the rest,” she decides aloud, lacing her fingers with Ava’s. “It’s beach time!” 

***

Ava’s first mistake was forgetting to prepare for the sight of Sara Lance in a swimsuit. Especially a Sara Lance in a bikini, wet hair slicked back and asking her if she wants to take a break from reading and go in the ocean. 

“Sara, you know I don’t like getting wet.” 

Next to her, Charlie snickers, nudging a confused Ray, and more than anything, Ava wants to slap them both. 

“It’ll be fun,” Sara tells her immediately. “Please?” 

The two engage in a staring match while their friends watch. 

“Moms are fightinggggg,” Zari sings under her breath, pulling out her phone and snapping a quick picture before finally, Sara drags Ava up. 

“Take off your clothes,” she tells her. 

Charlie whistles louder than she did at Big Belly Burger. 

This time, everyone glares at her while Ava just blushes, pulling her shirt off and shoving down her shorts. There’s silence, and her heart flies into her throat when she sees how hard Sara is staring at her. 

Charlie whistles the loudest she ever has, giving Ava a once over herself. Nobody disputes the exclamation this time; everyone is in shocked agreement. Ava’s hot. 

“Well damn, Sharpey,” Charlie laughs, eyes bright with amusement as her head tilts towards Sara who’s still silent, lip caught between her teeth. 

Ava shifts from foot to foot, feeling a little like she’s meeting Sara for the first time all over again in her doorway. Except this time, she’s wearing considerably less, and blue eyes are having a hard time tearing away from her body. 

Finally, Sara seems to find her senses, taking her hand without another word and dragging her down towards the ocean. Ava, who’s just trying to keep her feet under her, scrambles after, only realizing what’s happening when it’s too late as Sara pulls her head-first against her and into a wave. 

“Sara!” she gasps when they finally pop up out of the water, wiping salt out of her eyes. 

But Sara is already laughing and rushing out of the ocean. She sprints down the beach while their friends watch in amusement, and, in Charlie and Mick’s case, money changes hands. 

Ava runs after her best friend, exhilaration flooding through her as she catches up to Sara with ease – there are benefits to being taller – and wrapping her arms around her middle from behind, spinning her around for a moment while Sara giggles. She herself doesn’t even realize how hard she’s smiling.

“Put me down!” Sara yelps. “Nate! Ray!” she calls, reaching out to them, but the boys just shrug. 

You made your bed. Now, you have to lay in it, their matching gestures seem to say, and it only makes Sara grin harder – she knows it’s because they don’t want to cross Ava. 

Ava, whose grip is tight around her waist. Ava, whose face is pressed against her shoulder. Ava, who’s never looked quite so pretty as now. 

Sara takes in the moment for what it is, the kind that she’ll never get back, and she holds on tight, reaches to hold Ava’s arm where it’s pressed against her stomach. Her body lights up as Ava squeezes her for barely a moment, lips bravely brushing against her ear. 

“Sorry. Payback,” she whispers, and Sara doesn’t really understand what she means until she’s thrown into a wave. 

“You bitch!” Sara yelps as she floats to the surface when the wave passes, spitting out saltwater. “That was mean!”

“You did it first,” Ava reasons with a shrug, slicking her hair back with one hand as she treads water beside Sara. 

“I still reserve the right to be annoyed,” her best friend tries to say. “I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day.” 

“Oh, please. You’ll get bored of everyone else so fast.”

“Then I’ll have to rekindle my eighth-grade best friendship with Rory,” Sara jokes. Honestly, she doesn’t know when they picked up Mick, but eighth grade was about the time where he joined most of the same classes as the rest of the group. “He’s much more fun than you anyway.” 

Gaping with faux-offense, Ava dives for her while Sara only laughs, arms and legs wrapping around her best friend to stay upright in the water.

Playfully, Ava swims around, trying to shake her off until she gives up and simply starts to walk towards the shore. Even with her dramatic complaints, one of her hands stays strongly at Sara’s spine so she doesn’t drop her. Gravity becomes a factor as they reach the shore, but Ava seems wholly unaffected, arms just wrapping tighter around Sara, muscles flexing slightly where Sara can feel it for the first time due to the skin on skin contact. 

She tries not to think too hard about why she’s noticing it so much. Or why her face is bright red even though she put on too much sunscreen at Ava’s explicit, earlier command. 

“So she’s as strong as she looks, then,” Charlie teases. 

Ava shrugs. “Sara’s like… the weight of a very small dog.” 

“Hey!” Sara exclaims. “Am not!”

“Are too,” Ava replies immediately, sitting down easily on her towel with Sara landing in her lap softly. 

“Am not!” she argues, shoving Ava backwards until she’s on her back and Sara can lie directly on top of her, nose to nose. “Am not,” she repeats, softer this time, a gentle smirk on her lips like she knows too much for her own good. 

Ava swallows hard, valiantly maintaining eye contact even as her hands still press gently against Sara’s skin, one hand at the small of her back and the other on the back of her thigh. “Right,” she manages to laugh, even though it’s much more breathless than she originally intended. “Because I’m definitely being crushed right now by the weight of someone as huge as Mick.” 

“Hey!” he grumbles from the far end.

Sara, ignoring him, bites her lip around a grin. “One-hundred percent.” 

“God, please stop,” Zari finally interrupts. “Either get a room or get off of each other.” 

Redness streaking her cheeks, Ava flips them over immediately and sits up, much to the annoyance of Sara who flops back on the sand, uncaring that her entire back is going to be covered now. 

“We’re best friends,” they say together, though the former says it more defensively and the latter’s voice only sounds flat. 

Zari squints at the two of them before rolling her eyes, muttering something about how they both need to figure themselves out and returning to whatever CatChat troll she’s dealing with at the moment. 

Summer comes and goes quickly, much more quickly than any of the friends would have liked. 

It’s off to college for all of them. Well, except Ray who finished all of his courses in high school and now plans to enroll in graduate school and Zari, whose company has taken off to the point that Fashion Weeks are her lecture halls and the Met Gala is the equivalent of prom. 

Nate is headed to Brixton, and Behrad got into the business program there, too. They’ll be rivals with Charlie, who was accepted at Hudson and has a few friends there, too. Mick is completing a few more summer credits. Sara is attending CCU in the fall, partly because her mom is now located there. Ava elected to head to Washington D.C. 

In short, they won’t be so close to each other anymore. 

It’s hard, saying goodbye. Over the years, the block became comfortable for all of them, and leaving it is probably the most difficult thing any of them will have to do. Even Ava’s warmed up to Randy and Pam, now. They don’t truly feel like her parents, but again, they’re another part of this neighborhood life that’s comfortable. She’s grateful to them, for what they provided, all of the care they’ve given, though by now, she’s aware more than ever of the complications and questionable moral standards of certain adoption processes. She’s aware they could have picked anyone. 

It’s what makes her want to do what Rip did for kids – by the time she was fifteen, he insisted she not use Mister anymore – and go into human rights studies and social work to try to make a difference.

It’s what makes her more keen to call her friends her family. And, it’s what makes her remember her rule about people, about not getting attached.

In her last week, she tries to reinstate it. She’ll be off soon, and she doesn’t know where her path will take her. 

Rather than soaking in the last of her time together with Sara and everyone else, Ava has forced herself to compartmentalize, and she’s also convinced herself it’s for the best. She packs, and she plans, and she cleans. 

And she does not answer the door. 

It hurts when the bell rings once, twice, three times, but with her heart in her throat, Ava reminds herself that the slow life will be something she can cherish one day, and that getting out of this house and off this street fast while forgoing any promises of keeping in touch will be the only way to reach any semblance of what she’s envisioned for herself.

Of course, Sara has none of that. 

Honestly, Ava should have known better. She also should really get in the habit of locking her windows. 

“Ava, what the hell? Why aren’t you answering the phone or the door?” Sara asks, from behind her, making her jump. 

She turns just in time to see her friend using the frame to swing in and land softly on the carpet. All of the martial arts and parkour is clearly paying off. 

Ava looks away quickly, especially when she notices that Sara is wearing her debate club jacket that reads Sharpe on the back. 

“I’m busy.” 

“Busy with what?” Concern bleeds into her tone more than anger, though there’s an undercurrent of how upset she is. 

“With trying to pack and figure out how to move to another city,” Ava replies drily, trying to make it sound obvious. 

“And you just decided that none of your friends are dealing with that too?” 

“I decided that I’ve waited eleven years to get out of here, Sara,” she laughs with little humor, dismantling her lamp to put in another cardboard box. “And I’m finally getting out. I can find out where I’m from. Since it’s still hard for people to tell me.” Randy and Pam say it’s for her own good. Rip side steps the question whenever she gets close enough to ask. 

I don’t know a thing about my past. My world has been you and the block since we were kids. 

“I know you have. And I’m happy for you,” Sara says, softer, reaching for her shoulder. “You deserve all of that.” 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Ava responds matter-of-factly before she even realizes what she’s doing. Her best friend has this way about her, a way of making her honest.

“I’ll wager a guess and say Christmas,” Sara tries to joke, but Ava can’t look at her, pressing her lips together around a hard swallow. 

“No, I’m moving out,” she says, attempting to explain the gravity of what she’s decided. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. This wasn’t part of the plan. But, then again, neither was Sara.

“Well, yeah, we all are–”

“I’m moving out for good!” she blurts out, unable to take it anymore. 

There’s silence, and finally, Ava’s own body betrays her as she turns to face Sara, leaning against her desk, bracing herself on her hands. 

Sara takes a step back, almost like the force of the words are weighing down on her. “You mean you’re never coming back to Star City?” 

“That’s… a harsher way to put it, but yeah,” Ava confirms, eyes falling to the floor. “Listen, it’s really just–”

“Ava, why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. Now she’s angry. Shit. “You can’t just decide to move away forever. You’ve been holed up in your room, and I thought it’s because you hate change–” 

“–I do,” Ava admits. 

“–But it’s because you’re too scared to say goodbye?” Sara finishes, fire bright in her eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’ll find another best friend!” Ava snaps, louder than she intended. “You’ll go off to CCU, and you’ll find somebody. I know you will. You’re great at that. Me… not so much.”

“Ava, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Sara repeats. “I don’t want another one.” 

Ava’s resolve wanes as Sara looks at her, wide blue eyes, sunlight hair and freckles splattered across her nose, a face that has become familiar, easy, safe. 

But she can’t stay here. The strange knot whenever she looks at her best friend hasn’t left, and as the days go by, she’s begun to know what it is, even if she’s too afraid to admit it. Ava knows she’s right; she knows that Sara will find somebody new. She knows how magnetic the Sara Lance is.

So instead, she crosses her arms across her chest. “Sara, please go.”

“Ava, no. I don’t want you to move away.” Sara shakes her head. “Not permanently. We can see each other at Thanksgiving. And during breaks. You could stay a few more days, explain everything to me so I can help.” 

“Too late,” Ava answers sadly, however appealing the offer sounds. “I leave on Saturday.” 

“In three days?” Sara scrubs a hand over her face. “You really were going to leave without saying goodbye, huh? Leave us all to wonder what happened.”

“Leave you all to move on with your lives,” Ava corrects. “Sara, think about it. What do you know about me? About my birth family? Where I come from?”

“Why does that matter?” It doesn’t matter where you come from. It matters where you’re going. Don’t go away. 

“Because I don’t know who I am,” Ava snaps. It comes from a place of hurt, and she regrets it the second the tone finds its way into her voice, but she means every word she says. “Because I have fun with you, but I don’t know how to without you. I’m eighteen years old, and I haven’t left this neighborhood without you since we met! I don’t even know what part of the United States my family is from, much less my heritage.” Her fist clenches. She shoves it into her pocket. “Those things might seem silly to you, but they aren’t to me.” Ava’s voice is frighteningly even. “And it’s really too fucking bad that you think you’re not going to replace me, because I know you will.” 

“I know that you don’t really think that,” Sara says softly. “And I know who you are. You’re Ava. My Ava.” 

“I think I was here, and you needed a friend.” Ava doesn’t mean it. But Sara needs to go. She can’t hear anymore of this, of Sara saying she’s hers; her heart won’t take it. “There’s nothing really here–“ she gestures to herself– “when you think about it. I was weird when we met. And I’m weird now.” 

Sara needs to go before she makes her change her mind. 

“Normal is overrated,” Sara tells her easily. “I love that you aren’t normal. Hell, I’m not either.” She gives her a soft smile. “But the point is that I love you, Ava, okay? You made yourself into who you are. Every day, you choose, and that is what defines you. It’s what I love about you.” There’s so much weight in each word, more weight than she knows how to hold. So instead, she steps forward and holds Ava’s face in her hands. “I’ve loved you since the day we met and you stuck out your stupid hand for a shake.” She laughs wetly. “And I haven’t stopped.” 

“Don’t say it unless you mean it,” Ava breathes. Don’t say it at all, she wants to say. Don’t make me change my mind.

“I love you,” Sara says again, rubbing a thumb over her cheek, and only then does Ava realize that she’s crying. 

Ava shudders under the touch. Part of her also whispers that moving out is stupid. But it’s always been the plan since she arrived at Randy and Pam’s. She fantasized about her grand escape, about finding out who she is for herself. So, even with Sara holding her like she is, all of her practiced speeches for a moment like this stay trapped in her voice box.

“I’m still going to go,” she says, rather than all of the things she’s wanted to for so long – in front of the TV, at burgers, at the beach. 

“I know,” Sara replies softly. “Which is why I won’t regret this.” 

There’s no time to even breathe before Sara closes the last of the distance between them, guiding Ava’s face down slightly so she can swiftly press their lips together. 

Sara tastes like strawberries and sorrowful goodbyes. She tastes like regret, even if she lied and said she has none. 

Ava’s lips tingle as Sara presses up onto her toes, slipping her tongue into the kiss briefly, and Ava thinks, somewhere deep that she’s never listened to before, that she might be okay getting drunk on something after all – if that something is Sara. 

But then it’s over. 

Sara doesn’t fight her anymore, and Ava knows that it’s because Sara loves her too much.

Ava doesn’t ask her to keep fighting, too scared that Sara might admit to her own regret later because of the kiss, if she does. 

“Bye, Ava,” Sara breathes instead, right against her lips, pecking the corner of her mouth one last time before she pulls away. “Loved you since the day we met,” she repeats, backing up, taking Ava in one last time and slipping out the window the way she came. 

Ava successfully makes a single friend in D.C. and she’s pretty sure it’s only because Gary doesn’t have any friends either. 

Her roommate is planning on joining Greek life, and while Ava looked into it, it doesn’t seem like her speed. Plus, the girl told her point blank that the entire purpose of her parents sending her to such a prestigious college was to find a husband and get the M.R.S. degree, as they say. 

She’d said it with such pride, while Ava had just wrinkled her nose when she turned away, deciding not to tell Chloe Beth – Sarahbeth? Annabeth? Beth Ann? – that she herself isn’t really the husband kind. 

So, Ava falls in with Gary, and each college day loops on repeat. 

Wake up, go to class, eat, go to class, do homework, sleep. Wake up, go to class, eat, go to class, do homework, sleep. Wake up–

In the space and time between those blocked out events, Ava thinks about Sara, loops the kiss on repeat, too, and the words that came before and after. 

Loved you since the day we met. 

I love you. 

Which is why I won’t regret this. 

Ava thinks about Sara nonstop, impulsively deleting all of her social media accounts when her best friend – former best friend? – posts for the first time since arriving at school, dressed up in CCU colors at a football game. There’s something missing in the glimmer of her eye, and Ava doesn’t want to think about it. 

So, she turns to what she does best: avoidance. 

Snapchat is the first to go, since Sara refuses to let their streak die, and Ava needs it to. They’ve both started sending blank black screens, and it’s killing her inside. 

Twitter goes next, mostly because Ava never uses it and only got it in the first place to make sure that Sara or Behrad always had a like on their post when they sent something they thought was funny out into the void. 

Instagram goes last after a post on her story that she’s going to be inactive, ignoring the few messages that come in from her former friends wishing her well or asking if she’s okay. She definitely doesn’t check Sara’s story one last time before erasing it. 

The avoidance tactics work well enough for the next two weeks. She still thinks about Sara, and it’s clear that Sara still thinks about her. Every few days, she gets a text that opens with hope you’re okay, before it goes on to spin a tale of Sara’s day, of her whereabouts and what she’s doing, a little window into her life. Somewhere within it, she always says something about how she isn’t willing to give up on their friendship yet, or that it’s so tiring to feel like the one person who knows her best is a million miles away.

The thing that hurts the most is that Ava knows Sara means every word. The thing that hurts the most is that Ava doesn’t know how to come back from their moment in her old bedroom, that she isn’t sure that things could go back to just friends, that it’s been just a few weeks but it feels like she’s already forgotten how to be a person again. 

Ava never types any of that out. She forces herself only to read Sara’s messages once the day is over. 

She relies on her schedule: wake up, go to class, eat, go to class, do homework, sleep, and she doesn’t do anything else. 

The avoidance tactics work. Until they don’t. 

“Ava, who’s Sara?” Gary asks across from her in the dining hall during their lunch break, turning his phone around to show that sara.lance25 has requested to follow his admittedly sparse Instagram account. 

Ava’s little eye in the storm she created for herself ceases to exist the second his words register. 

She opens her mouth to explain before she shakes her head. “She’s nobody.” 

“It says she follows you,” Gary squeaks out even under Ava’s intense gaze. 

“We were friends,” she tells him, forcing any emotion out of her voice. “Once. We were friends once.” 

“And now?” he asks carefully. 

Ava shrugs, turning back to her psych notes. “And now we’re not.” 

***

By mid-October, Ava is, in a word, miserable. 

Sara hasn’t stopped texting, and everyday, Ava gets closer to responding. Gary is great, but she’s lonely. More than that, she was right. She doesn’t know how to have fun without Sara. It’s hard even remembering how to be a good friend without her. Shamefully, she’s taken to lashing out at Gary which has led to him making himself scarce. 

So, yes. Ava is miserable. 

***

She misses Ray. She misses Nate. She misses Behrad and Zari. Hell, she even misses Charlie and Mickey, no matter how often she felt like Charlie knew too much for anyone’s good or how confused she is that somewhere along the way, she grew so close to the latter that he doesn’t rip her head off at the nickname usage. 

Most of all, she misses Sara. She misses her smile. She misses her laugh. And, in the last week, she’s been missing her texts. It’s strange, for Sara to stop doing something that has become habit, and it almost makes Ava want to reach out more – it’s so unlike her that it makes Ava wonder if she’s okay.  

She gets her answer on a crisp Thursday morning between Psych 1 and office hours for Spanish class. 

[Z, 9:48am]: Ava, I know you’re doing your whole broody, I’m a loner thing, but that doesn’t fly with me. No use beating around the bush. Captain Lance had a heart attack. Please come home. 

[Z, 9:49am]: Sara needs you. 

Ava never makes it to office hours. She barely even stops by her residence hall to bang on Gary’s door and apologize, requesting that he please tell the registration office where she’s gone, before heading to the nearest place to rent a car. 

Heart in her throat and foot on the gas, Ava doesn’t think she’s ever driven so fast. She also doesn’t care. 

Live a little, Sara’s voice tells her as she hits over sixty, sixty-five, seventy. 

Ava hates that right now, living hurts so damn much. 

***

She picks up Big Belly Burger on the way, between flowers for Quentin’s hospital room and rehearsing everything she might say to Sara. 

It all flies out of her head when she enters and Sara crashes right into her, forcing her to drop everything in her hands and hold her. 

“You came,” Sara whispers while Mick, Behrad and Nate pick up the plastic bags of food and Ray places the flowers next to the other bouquets on the windowsill. “How did you know to come?” 

“Zari texted,” Ava replies, sinking into the hug. Sara is soft in her arms, almost to the point of falling apart. Ava tightens her grip in a fruitless attempt to hold her together.

“Thank you for coming,” Sara breathes. “I–” 

“It’s okay,” Ava mumbles. “There’s a lot to say. But not now.” 

Sara nods, pulling back to take Ava in. “Where are your things?” 

Ava laughs, running a hand through her hair sheepishly. “Everything I brought is in here.” She points to her backpack. “I heard, and I just… drove here. I forgot to pack more clothes.” She frowns. “And my glasses.” 

“You can borrow some of mine, and I think we have an old pair of your glasses somewhere.” Laurel joins the conversation from her father’s bedside just as her sister is about to offer. “No offense, Sara, but Ava’s not going to fit into any clothes of yours.” 

Ava’s gaze flickers to Laurel who tosses her a wink. 

Her heart settles, knowing that everyone’s relief at seeing her outweighs any disappointment they have in her. 

***

“If he gets through the night, he’ll make it,” the doctor says when he comes to check on Quentin. “Who’s staying?” 

“Me,” Laurel, Sara, Ava, Tommy, and Oliver say all at once. 

He nods. “I’ll have them bring in a cot. The rest of you, general visiting hours will be over in about twenty minutes.” 

They all murmur thanks to the doctor before he goes. Those leaving say their goodbyes while Oliver whispers to the sisters that he’ll wait outside but stay the night in case anything changes – he just doesn’t want to crowd the room. Quickly, Tommy agrees, kissing Laurel’s forehead, and Ava goes to follow everyone else out, but Sara grabs her hand. 

“Stay,” she requests.

“You sure?” Ava meets Sara’s eyes before she looks to Laurel for approval, too. 

“Yes,” Sara says, and Laurel nods in agreement. 

“Okay,” Ava manages, feeling more awkward than she wants to as she sits down in the last empty chair. 

She freezes when Sara reaches to lace their fingers together gently, but she doesn’t pull away, instead focusing on slowing the beat of her heart. 

***

“Dad started having health problems last week.” Sara cuts through the quiet at a whisper, not wanting to wake Laurel who’s fallen asleep on the cot that was brought in. It’s obvious she hasn’t slept properly in days. “I came home.” She forces a weak smile onto her face. “That’s why I stopped texting you, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ava apologizes; there’s really nothing else to say. “Sara, I’m so sorry–”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Sara shrugs, knocking shoulders with her gently. 

“No, I mean for–”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she repeats. “It’s only been a month and some. And…” She takes a deep breath, staring forward at her father, the monitor beeping beside him in steady rhythm. “Dad’s going to be okay. Of course he is.” Her gaze rounds on Ava. “Do you promise to text me back now, though?” 

“Of course,” Ava agrees readily, and she means it. 

A month and some, as Sara had put it, had been hard enough. She thought she could go it alone without anyone else, but just being around her old friends for a few hours has reminded her that she really can’t. Her plan never accounted for good people, good moments, or good memories. Looking back, it came from an overt, willful cynicism, a cynicism that was banished from the equation long ago by a circumstance she never could have predicted: having friends in the first place.

“Will I see you at Christmas?” Sara pushes carefully, interrupting her thoughts gently while obviously trying not to spook her. 

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Ava asks, as though the answer is obvious. 

It’s the right thing to say. 

For the first time since she arrived, Ava watches Sara’s lips pull into a true smile. Her heart turns over at the sight – just like always. 

“It’s good to have you back, Aves,” Sara murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she leans against Ava’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Ava admits softly, but she can’t tell if Sara even heard it, because when she chances a look at her face, her best friend – yes, her best friend – is already asleep. “Love you, Sara,” she breathes. 

Whether it’s Ava’s imagination or not, she’ll never know, but to her, it feels like Sara nuzzles closer at the words.

***

Quentin makes it through the night. 

Sara and Laurel both cry – after telling their father that he needs to start taking heart medication. 

“Oh, my girls,” he says softly, holding one in each of his arms that always seemed so strong. Ava stands respectfully by the door, trying to give them some privacy, but she should have known the Lances would have none of it. “Ava?” Quentin asks. 

“Hi, Captain.” She waves with a soft smile. 

“Oh, don’t hi, Captain me,” he groans. “Come give me a hug! I’m not made of glass.” 

Hesitantly, Ava takes a step forward before Sara ushers her forward. Laurel, at the same time, calls toward the door. “Tommy! Ollie!” 

The boys bound inside, grinning at the sight of Quentin awake and bright-eyed. 

Just as Ava is trying to figure out how to hug him carefully, Tommy smashes into her, and Ava is convinced that the only reason they don’t hurt Captain Lance is because she braces herself on the bed frame before they can land. 

“Jesus, I’m not made of steel, either,” he grumbles still, though it’s clearly for dramatic effect as he ruffles Oliver and Tommy’s hair and gives Ava a smile. “It’s good to see all of you here for Laurel and Sara,” he says, but he’s looking right at her. 

***

“And I’ll see you for Christmas?” Sara asks again. 

“It is your birthday,” Ava replies again. 

“Just making sure,” she laughs, carrying Ava’s backpack for her after claiming that her best friend driving from school before the class week was out displayed the fact that chivalry is, in fact, not dead, and that she can carry a bag to a rental car. 

“I’ll be there,” Ava assures, unlocking the car and popping the trunk. “And I will text,” she adds before Sara can even ask. 

“Good.” Placing her pack into the back, Sara leans in for a hug. “Drive safe.” She pulls back and smiles, dimples and all. 

God, Ava loves them. Ava loves her. 

“I’ll message you when I get back,” she promises, squeezing Sara’s shoulder one last time before heading for the driver’s side. 

“You better!” Sara calls as she gets out of the way and Ava starts to pull out. “Love you!” 

Ava waves, giving her one last smile before she pulls the car out of reverse and into drive. She doesn’t look back, but she does speak into the silence. Just like last night, nobody else will hear it. 

“Love you too, Sara.” 

It’s snowing when Ava arrives for holiday at the Lance residence. She smiles to herself, thinking that it’s nice to have more than one change of clothes in her bag this time. 

When she reaches the porch, she contemplates ringing the bell or using the spare key under the pot, but she doesn’t have to decide when the door is wrenched open and she’s immediately scooped up into a hug. 

“Ava!” Ray greets brightly, forgetting his newfound height – he finally grew into his body – and strength as her feet dangle off the floor.

“Ray!” she laughs, clapping his shoulder. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Ray, put her down!” Charlie calls from the living room.

“Oh! Right,” he sets her down gently, straightening out her coat for her. “Sorry.” 

“That’s okay,” she forgives immediately, patting his chest. She places her things beside everyone else’s by the doorway before looking around at who’s already arrived. 

The siblings, as always, are on time, though no doubt, it has everything to do with Zari. Nate and Charlie are chattering away while Ray heads back into the kitchen to try to help Captain Lance. Mick is, predictably, late. 

The only person missing is– 

“Hey!” Sara greets from behind her, making Ava jump. 

“Jesus!” she gasps, but a grin spreads across her face the second she turns around. “Hi, Sara.” 

“Hi, Ava.” Sara smiles back at her, reaching up to pull her into a hug by the shoulders, glaring at their friends who are grinning at her behind Ava’s back. “Merry Christmas Eve.” 

“Don’t you mean Happy Day-Before-Sara-Lance’s-Birthday?” Ava teases, pressing her nose into Sara’s hair for a moment before pulling back. 

“God, she’s already been insufferable. Don’t enable her,” Nate groans from where he and Behrad have somehow gotten in a wrestling match over the TV remote in the two seconds that they weren’t being watched. 

“Ava just knows that my birthday is the best day of the year,” Sara brags with a playful shrug. “You know why that is?”

“Because everybody else gets presents on the same day that you do,” everybody repeats back to her. 

“You know you have nothing to do with that, right?” Zari asks for the thousandth time. 

“No proof that they’re not correlative,” Ava pipes in from behind Sara, pressing her lips together around a smile when blue eyes shift onto her, affection bright. 

“Mom’s whipped,” Charlie coughs into her hot chocolate. 

“Shut up, Charlie!” they all reprimand at once. 

Ava smiles, even as a blush forms on her cheeks. It’s good to be back for the holidays. 

***

“Ava,” Sara hisses, shaking her awake. 

Ava groans, turning over in her sleeping bag that’s set up on Sara’s floor. They’re too big to share the bed now. Or, that’s the excuse she used, anyway. “What, Sara?”

“Avaaaa,” Sara sings, shaking her harder. “C’mon!” 

“C’mon what?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her vision. 

Sara jingles her keys. “Night drive time!” 

“Hasn’t the novelty of driving worn off by now?” Ava grumbles, but she sits up, feeling around for her glasses for only a moment before Sara places them onto her face gently. 

“It’s almost my birthday!” Sara grins at her. “Which means we get to do what I want.” 

“Remind me why I said yes to that when we were ten?” Ava rolls her eyes, unzipping her sleeping bag and reaching for a warmer pair of pants to put on over the leggings she accidentally fell asleep in. She’d meant to change, but she and Sara had talked for so long that they both fell asleep mid-conversation. 

“Because you love me,” Sara responds easily, like she always does. “Let’s go!” 

“Can I change?” Ava gestures down to how she’s only half put on her pants. “You should change too. You’re going to be freezing.” 

“Nah,” Sara disagrees immediately, but she does wait for Ava to finish zipping and buttoning her pants before she opens the door quietly and tiptoes out. 

Ava pinches between her eyebrows, sighing even as she grabs two jackets to head out after Sara. 

***

“It’s cold,” Sara complains the moment they’re out the door. 

Ava holds out the second jacket she’d grabbed without another word. “Here.”

“You’re so annoying,” Sara laughs, but she takes it, pulling it on. It’s dark-wash denim and slightly too big, the sleeves hanging down past her wrists. It’s an endearing look, and it makes Ava’s heart play hopscotch inside of her chest. 

“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” she quips back, following Sara – and her newly raised middle finger – down the steps. 

***

“Where are we going, anyway?” Ava asks as Sara turns off the block. 

“You’ll see,” Sara replies easily, right hand on the back of the seat while she steers with her left. 

The radio sits on low, steady whispers of frightful weather and delightful fires sweeping through the car. 

“I missed this,” Sara admits. “Seeing you.” Being with you, wearing your clothes. 

“I missed it too.” Ava swallows hard. “Listen, Sara, I just really want to apologize–“ 

“Ava, don’t,” Sara interrupts quickly. “If anything, I’m sorry, okay?”

“For what?” she laughs incredulously. There’s nothing Sara does or did that has hurt her. 

“I’m sorry I never noticed you were struggling,” she confesses. “Or made you feel like you could talk about it.” 

“Sara, it was never you,” Ava corrects her immediately, wanting so much to make her understand the fact. “I promise.” 

“Then explain it to me?” she requests, chancing a look at Ava when they stop at a red. She looks beautiful, bathed in night and traffic lights, and Ava nods, taking a deep breath. 

“It’s just… when you’re like me, you sort of understand the world a little different,” she begins slowly with a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “The world is mean, and life is a little less kind than most people imagine.” She shrugs. “Even at seven, I promised myself to never get too attached to anyone.” Sighing, Ava’s eyes scan the horizon. 

“What happened?” Sara asks softly as they pull into the parking lot at— the beach. 

A watery smile plays on Ava’s lips. Sara took them to the beach on a cold winter’s day when it’s below freezing. Of course. 

She manages to look back at Sara’s face, adoration she’s tried to hide for so long bright in her features. 

“You did.” 

***

Eventually, they make their way onto the sand. It’s comfortably cool, leaning together on a packed-down spot so it doesn’t get all over their clothes. 

The stars have started shifting in the sky towards sunrise. 

Ava can’t remember ever feeling so at peace. 

Sara breaks the silence first, head resting on Ava’s shoulder. 

“You know, I met this girl at school. Everyone calls her Spooner.” 

Ava’s heart sinks, but she tries not to show it in her voice. “Oh.” 

“No, wait!” Sara laughs, always able to read her. “Not like that. She’s just a friend.” 

“Oh,” Ava repeats, doing her best not to sound relieved. Sara giggles against her jacket, and Ava blushes. “What does this have to do with anything?” she adds, acting as nonchalant as possible. 

“I told her about this girl,” Sara starts, pulling away just enough that she can turn to Ava, their arms still linked and their hands still clasped under the guise of keeping warm. “That I wanted to tell her how I feel, but I was worried it would ruin everything.” 

“Sara,” Ava tries to get a word in, but Sara holds up a hand. 

“I told her that I was worried that this girl was the love of my life, and that I’d blown it.” Sara reddens, blushing harder than Ava has ever seen before. “I told her that I’ve never been a planner, and that this girl is. And her plans took her far away. Too far for my liking.” 

“Sara–” Ava says again, but it’s no use. 

“And then Spooner told me if I didn’t say something soon, this girl might be so far that we never find each other again,” she continues, stumbling over her words a little. “She said I had to say something. So that’s what I’m trying to do right now.” 

“Sara–"

“What I’m trying to say here is that I know I’m bad at planning.” Sara’s voice trembles at the way Ava says her name. ”I’m bad at the future stuff, and I always have been. I can never tell what I want until it’s gone.” Blue eyes drop down to Ava’s lips. “Who I want.” 

“Sara,” Ava murmurs, heart in her throat. Her name is all she can say. When she’s alone, Sara loops in her head like an earworm, a favorite song. She’s so used to saying it, thinking it, that it feels like breathing. 

“I know we don’t know everything,” Sara rambles on, forcing her gaze to meet Ava’s again. “About you or me. And there’s a lot to find out! But we could do it together. We could… travel the world! Do research about your family! Do long distance–"

Ava swallows hard. Her head is spinning, watching Sara search for more words, watching Sara bare her heart, watching this moment happen like she hasn’t waited for it, knowingly and unknowingly, for weeks, months, years. 

“When I said I loved you since the day I met you, I meant it.” Tears start to well at the corners of her eyes. It’s clear she’s been thinking about what happened in Ava’s old bedroom nonstop since it happened, too. “But there’s this thing I’ve been trying to resolve in my head.” 

“And what’s that?” Ava manages to ask. 

“You kissed me back,” Sara tells her, breathless. “You kissed me back, but you let me leave.” 

“I thought you might regret it.” Ava presses her lips together to stop a soft cry from escaping the back of her throat. “If I didn’t let you go.” 

“Ava, all I wanted was for you to ask me to stay,” she admits, terrifyingly honest. Somehow, they’ve gotten closer during their conversation, now almost nose-to-nose. Sara’s eyes search Ava’s face, for what it’s impossible to say. “But it was your choice,” she continues. “And– and I wanted to tell you that even if you didn’t know who you were yet, I was sure I’ll love every version of you. And that I don’t know who I am yet either, and I’m scared you won’t like her, whoever I become.”

“Of course I would like her,” Ava breathes, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind Sara’s ear. “It’s you, Sara,” she says, like it’s simple, like it’s the most obvious thing in the whole world. “For me, it’s always been you.” 

Sara smiles shyly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Fuck, can I get a redo on our summer conversation?” she laughs. “You’re really outdoing me here.” 

“Sure,” Ava laughs back.

“For me, it’s always you, too,” she says first, just to be sure, just to be clear, just so Ava can know. “It will always be you. No matter where we go, or when. You’re my best friend. My first love. My first everything, really. I want more firsts. If you do.” 

“Wow. That was pretty good,” Ava teases softly, proud of herself when it breaks some of the tension and Sara giggles. And thinking back, Ava knows that what Sara said is true for her, too. Sara is her first friend, her first kiss, her first love. Sara is her first everything, and she wants her to always be. “And yes, I do want them.” 

“Great.” Sara grins. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

“Okay.” Ava rolls her eyes with a smile, affectionate, leaning in to close the final distance, closing her eyes. 

This time, Ava kisses Sara at sunrise. This time, she tastes like the dawn and sweet beginnings. When their noses brush, Ava’s heart settles in her chest.

And then, she’s nothing but speechless and soft against Sara’s hands when she pulls back for barely a moment, just long enough to take Ava’s glasses off and toss them onto the sand. It’s an intimate gesture that makes her skin warm and body relax, especially when Sara kisses her again, deeper this time, free and whole. 

Ava can’t ever remember being this happy, nor does she mind the blurriness she’s experiencing now a single bit – she memorized every line and curve of Sara’s face long ago; she doesn’t need to see to know how beautiful she looks right now. Instead, Ava just kisses back, sliding her eyes shut all over again with the feeling that she’s experiencing a new, truer kind of sight. 

Sara pushes her over, kissing her stupid on the sand. They breathe in each other’s laughter. 

In this moment with Sara, living doesn’t hurt. Any time Ava is with her, it doesn’t. Life doesn’t have to feel like a war, she’s learned. It can feel like peace. 

Around her, everything mundane becomes magnificent. A girl with sunlight hair and ocean eyes knocking at her door must be destiny. Sweet summer days and laughter over burgers and fries must be holy congregation. A group of unlikely friends must be a family, though Ava already knew that one. Ava suddenly feels big in a small world, like she matters, like she belongs. 

Ava’s finally ready to find somewhere to belong. She’s found it right where she is: tangled up with Sara on the beach, cast in the gold of daybreak. Because the more she thinks about it, Sara tastes, smells, feels like home. 

For the first time, with her glasses somewhere in the sand, Ava sees life in all of its clarity.

Home isn’t what you call a place. It’s what you call a person. 

Sara is home. 

There is such a thing as falling apart meaning freedom. There is such a thing as a plan having too much power. There is such a thing as a slow and fast life, where the moments you want to keep stick around longer, and the ones you can do without are banished to only memory. 

There is such a thing as home. 

When she was seven, Ava moved to their block decidedly not looking for one. 

But on this Christmas morning – Sara’s birthday – and during so many mornings and nights before, Ava found it, home, anyway in the woman she’s meant to love for the rest of her life, the one she’s loved since the day they met just over twelve years ago.