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Chapter Text

Cold air nipped away at Chloe’s nose as sleep started to wear away from her eyelids. She opened her eyes to find her room shrouded in orange morning light. Judging from the layer of frost that’s accumulated on her window pane and the hazy sunrise shining through the glass, it’s way too fucking early to be awake in Chloe’s mind. She let out an agitated groan in hopes to convince her brain to let her go back to sleep. After several sleepless minutes, she shifted to her back and stared up at the ceiling. Just in arm's reach on her bedside shelf, was a reused mint container holding perfectly rolled blunts just in case she ever wanted a quick accessible high from the comfort of her bed. She considered it for a moment before voting against it. Afterall, she didn’t have much else on her schedule for the day and she knew her future self would appreciate the buzz more than her groggy self could at this moment.

She blinked slowly as she attempted to shed away any lingering false hopes of sleep. She crossed her arms behind her head as she struggled to remember the dream that she had during the night. Her dreams seemed to have calmed in intensity throughout the last couple of years yet she found herself sometimes missing the vivacity of them. Maybe she just missed seeing her dad in ways that felt more real than she could ever achieve in reality. Then again maybe she was better off slowly becoming further and further removed from it all. The memories and the mirages of vague quality time, all drifting closer to the edge of her mind. She was pulled out of her thoughts as the bed shifted slightly beside her. Chloe’s eyes opened, not even realizing they had closed again, as she turned her head to look over at the other half of the mattress.

Beside her, a sleeping Rachel Amber tossed and turned for a moment before settling back into a gentle snore. She had curled herself into the blanket, her arms tucked away beneath the edges of the fabric. Chloe couldn’t help but smile as she watched the slow rise and fall of Rachel’s breathing. Life had its way of reminding Chloe that the weight of loss would bear down on her heart forever, but whenever she looked at Rachel, the weight evaporated away and was replaced with something warmer. Chloe carefully turned as her blue eyes traveled around the delicate features of Rachel’s face. Chloe, along with the entire population of Arcadia Bay, always found themselves staring at how beautiful Rachel was. However, barely anyone at all ever saw her in the light that Chloe was seeing her in now. Vulnerable and radiant in the glow of the sunrise. Her hazel eyes shuttered from the world, getting lost in the landscape of her boundless dreams. Chloe suddenly didn’t mind waking up early. She would have traded all the sleep in the world for this moment.

As the sun rose higher over the horizon, the early morning frost began to melt away and was replaced with dew that gathered in patches across the windows. Chloe didn’t even realize how much time had passed as she laid in a comfortable silence with herself, watching over Rachel. After awhile, the latter began to stir in her cocoon of blankets. Before long, her eyes began to flutter open and her arms shot out from their pockets of warmth. A smile tugged at the corners of Chloe’s lips as she watched Rachel wince at catching the morning light in her eyes.

The hazel eyed beauty turned her attention to her accomplice, “Hey.” she smiled, her voice still laced with sleep.

Chloe shifted her weight closer, “Hey, sleeping beauty.”

Rachel rubbed her eye and turned to face the other, “Were you awake already? What time is it?”

Her voice made Chloe’s stomach flutter in ways that she would never admit, although the blood rushing to her cheeks always seemed like a dead giveaway. She wanted to hate how Rachel knew her tells, but she also felt a tinge of happiness that someone cared about her enough to learn them.

“Yeah. Weird dreams woke me up, I think. Couldn’t remember them and couldn’t go back to sleep.” Chloe lifted her arm and moved hair out of Rachel’s face, tracing her fingers down the side of her cheek in the process, “It’s 7:30. So, you’ve got time before you have to meet up with Kate.”

Rachel leaned into the contact, intertwining her fingers with Chloe’s as she shifted herself to be wrapped in Chloe's arm, “Good. I want to just lay here for a little bit.”

As Rachel pressed her body into Chloe’s side, Chloe thought about how they got here and where they were trying to go. Rachel dreamed about climbing Mount Everest and getting her own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame while Chloe dreamed about her past and the ghosts that followed. However, where they differed in some dreams, they overlapped in others. Like running away from Arcadia Bay, getting an apartment together that was way too small for them, driving under stars and across bridges until they felt like they belonged. Perhaps the biggest dream they shared was to belong. To belong somewhere for the only place they ever felt like they belonged during their time in Arcadia Bay was in each other’s arms. The thought of a life together pulled at Chloe’s mind and refused to let go.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Rachel breathed as she buried herself deeper into the crook of Chloe's neck.

Chloe blinked back to the present, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the other started, her groggy voice still somehow making Chloe blush, "I can tell your mind wandered off somewhere far. Where did you go?"

Somewhere far. Was it far? Was everything Chloe ever wanted with Rachel still too far from their reach? Chloe's heart ached at the thought.

“Nowhere in particular.”

“Mhmm,” Rachel crooned. She slowly slid her hand under Chloe’s oversized shirt and squeezed her side.

“Ow!” Chloe yelped, jolting her body, “What was that for?”

“You’re lying.”

Chloe’s cheeks grew hot and she hoped that Rachel couldn’t feel it. Chloe shifted her head down and saw a soft smile occupying the space below the actress’s still closed eyes. Chloe liked to believe that she worked hard enough to upkeep her hardened demeanor to shut out the outside world from invading her space, physical and otherwise. Yet somehow Rachel always found ways to slip through the cracks that Chloe worked so hard to patch up. Maybe she was just a worse liar than she thought, or maybe she just didn’t want to admit that Rachel would always have a place in the soft spot of her heart.

“Am not.” Chloe winced at her weak comeback. Truth be told, Chloe has learned that Rachel seemed to always enhance every feeling that she ever sparks in her. Excitement is more invigorating, invincibility is never fleeting, hope is brighter, love is warmer. Yet there is one feeling in particular that Chloe could never seem to shake.

Inadequacy.

Inadequacy has proven to be the one thing that seemed to have a stronger grip on Chloe than Rachel did. And somehow, it terrified Chloe. It scared her more than she could ever admit because it seemed like the one constant in her life that never failed to show its teeth just when she thought she was good enough.

Rachel sighed and kissed Chloe’s neck before peeling herself off her and propping her head on her hand. Her hazel eyes have shed away their layer of sleep and were replaced with a mischievous stare that pierced Chloe’s bubble of thought. Chloe crossed her arms behind her head and gave a dorky smile that she hoped would pass the status report that Rachel was conducting in her mind.

After a momentary stare down, Rachel seemed to finally conclude whatever machinations she was conjuring up. She clicked her tongue, “So… whatcha hidin’, Price?”

Chloe lifted an eyebrow and shrugged, “I got nothing for you, Amber.”

As predicted, Rachel didn’t seem to buy it. She continued to scan Chloe’s face for any sign of change but Chloe held her ground.

“Hmm,” Rachel pursed her lips out in thought, “Did you do something while I was sleeping?”

“What?” Chloe scoffed, “You wish I did.”

Rachel smirked and Chloe’s heart stuttered, “Not what I meant. I mean, did you…” Her voice trailed off as she continued to scan Chloe’s face, “Did you… take something?”

Chloe’s eyebrows zipped together in confusion, “Take something?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Rachel sighed, “Maybe you used something from my blunt stash.”

“Our blunt stash.” Chloe corrected, “And no, I didn’t. Currently sober as a nun.”

Rachel squinted her eyes as she moved and sat up in the bed. She stretched her arms up to the sky and rolled her head around to work out the stiffness in her neck. Chloe watched as Rachel’s hair cascaded perfectly down her shoulders and smiled when she caught a glimpse of a hickey that she planted on her collarbone from the night before. Chloe’s smile began to fade as the familiar itch scratched against her brain, the itch that told her she wasn’t enough. She must’ve dropped her line of sight and showed some of her cards because when she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Rachel was looking at her with a little more worry in her face than just a few moments prior.

Chloe cleared her throat and sat up, hoping to regain her shield of nonchalance in the process. Rachel cocked her head as if something clicked within it and she shifted around before setting her hand down on Chloe’s thigh, “You okay, Chlo?”

Chloe gave another half hearted attempt at shrugging her shoulders, “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure you’re not hiding something?”

“I told you, the blunt stash is perfectly intact and all accounted for.”

“Not what I meant.” Rachel’s voice was serious now but laced with caution, “Something is bugging you.”

Chloe squirmed under Rachel’s gaze, “First, I’m hiding something and now something is bugging me?” She tried her best not to sound defensive but judging from Rachel’s expression, she failed.

Chloe expected an annoyed huff in exchange for her rash tone of voice, but instead she received a sympathetic look instead. Rachel hadn’t moved her hand from Chloe’s leg and Chloe began to feel her thumb gently swaying back and forth across her skin. Rachel looked down at the bed, “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”

“I told you, Rach.” Chloe said with careful consideration of her tone, “I’m okay.”

Her eyes darted across Rachel’s face and she knew that she'd been caught. Rachel didn’t believe her for a second. Chloe began to feel a swirl of darkness growing in her chest yet she stood her ground. She tried to keep her face unreadable yet she could feel her mask crumbling with each passing second.

Get it together, Price.

“Is it me?”

Rachel’s voice went small and it hurt Chloe’s heart.

“No, it’s not you.” Chloe put her hand on top of Rachel’s as they both fixated their gazes at their fingers intertwining.

“Is it us?”

A lump formed in Chloe’s throat and she tried to get herself to speak but every time she tried, the threat of tears stopped her. Running away, the stars, the love, the warmth, a tiny apartment, belonging.

“Rachel…” Chloe tried but looked away and held her eyes shut. She was fine, wasn’t she? They were fine. This talk didn’t need to happen, but then why did it make her chest feel like it was going to burst?

Her eyes remained shut as Rachel let go of her hand. Chloe made an attempt to slow the pace of her racing heart, her head turned away. Her hands moved down to her sides as she gripped the blanket beneath her. The bed shifted beside her before a long moment of silence overtook the morning air.

“Chloe.”

Chloe opened her eyes and slowly turned to look at Rachel. She was sitting beside her with her legs extended out in front of her. She patted her thigh and offered it as a place to lay. After a moment’s hesitation, Chloe sighed and accepted. She laid her head down and fixated her gaze to the ceiling as she rested her hands on her own chest.

Rachel cleared her throat and took a deep breath as she put on her award winning smile. Chloe recognized the shift in Rachel’s demeanor as she turned on her acting mode.

“Doctor Amber Therapy is open for business. How can I help you?” she said as she began to run her fingers through Chloe’s hair. Chloe relaxed at the contact as she thought back to the junkyard and all the memories that came along with it. The memories of the very beginning of criminal and accomplice, of honor student and drop out, of Prospera and Ariel, of fire and smoke, of Rachel and Chloe.

“Well, Doc…” Chloe started, “I’ve just been feeling…I don’t know. It’s just…”

She started to fiddle with her fingers in nervous contemplation, “I guess… ugh, I don’t know.”

Rachel caressed Chloe’s face before continuing to strum through her blue locks. “You got this,” she coaxed.

Chloe looked up to meet her steadfast gaze. Chloe’s eyes flicked back and forth between Rachel’s eyes. Behind the layer of make-believe therapist was a glint of worry and Chloe cursed herself for causing it.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and steadied her fiddling fingers. Rachel gently placed her free hand on top of Chloe’s without wavering from the rhythm of her strum.

“I guess, I’ve been… nervous.” Chloe offered, “Like, just anxious or whatever.”

“Mhmm.” Rachel replied, “About anything in particular?”

Chloe sucked in air until she felt like she was a balloon ready to pop. As she released her breath, she tried her best to expel any shards of regret that threatened to force her to retreat back to the comfort of ignorance.

“Well, you remember that girl that I would tell you about sometimes?”

“The incredibly talented, effortlessly flawless, exceptional beauty? Yes, I remember.”

Chloe failed to force back a smile as she gently shook her head in mock disapproval, “Yeah, that one. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately and this thing we have going on.”

“I see.”

“And… I think I’m scared.”

There was a momentary hiccup in the rhythm of Rachel’s hair strum. Although her eyes were closed, Chloe felt Rachel’s skin heat up just slightly.

“Oh, I see. I see.” Rachel’s voice remained dedicated to her role, “What do you believe is the cause of this fear?”

There it was again, the feeling she couldn’t shake. Chloe closed her eyes tighter as she felt the impact of an invisible grenade going off in her chest, ringing out to her arms and legs until she was heavy and numb.

Yet she still tried to play her part.

“I…” There was a hitch in Chloe’s voice. She swallowed and waited for the right words to come out. What was she even trying to say?

How did they get here?

Where are they trying to go?

“I think I’m scared because she has so much power over me.” Chloe finally said after a bout of silence, “I… I don’t think I was ever able to admit it to her. One, because I feel like she already knew and two, I didn’t want to believe it myself.”

Chloe waited for a response that didn’t come. The weight on her chest felt like it was getting heavier and heavier, but she didn’t dare move or open her eyes. She couldn’t risk a glance at Rachel. Not now. So instead, she persevered.

“I’m scared of her.” Chloe continued, her voice beginning to waver, “I’m scared of her leaving. I’m scared of her getting bored of me. I’m scared of her rejection. I’m scared that I’m too much. I’m scared that I’m not fucking good enough.”

Chloe hadn’t realized that the threat of tears had come to a head. The salty drops felt like acid as they rolled down the side of her face, “I think I love her and I’m scared.”

She managed an unsteady breath. The strumming through her hair had come to a halt and everything was still, besides the American flag beside her bed gently rustling with the morning breeze. Chloe’s heartbeat pounded away in her ears and she felt her face grow hot with regret. With all the will she could muster in that moment, she pried her own eyes open and the cold air welcomed them with a sting. She looked up to see Rachel sitting just as she was before but her gaze was fixated forward, her eyebrows knitted together with her lips tucked away.

Chloe shifted her head up slightly, “Doctor Amber?”

The silence felt like it would stretch on forever. Chloe felt her nervous fidgeting returning as she tried her best to remain patient. Finally, Rachel blinked herself out of whatever train of thought she was navigating and looked down at the other.

She shifted her legs and Chloe sat up and positioned herself cross legged across from her. Chloe’s head spun for a moment, she couldn’t tell if it was from getting up too fast or if all the blood had drained away because of her nerves. She was never good at expressing her feelings, especially the genuine and serious ones. Rachel had become one of the strongest pillars in Chloe’s life yet she remained to be the hardest person to spill these types of feelings to. Not due to any fault of her own, but more due to Chloe’s inability to feel like her emotions were important enough to voice out loud.

Yet everything Chloe said was true. She loved Rachel. She loved her and it fucking terrified her to her core. It left her feeling raw at times, waiting for it to glaze over with a hardened scab that she could pick away into something manageable. However, no matter how much she tried to suppress it, it only came back stronger and with a vengeance.

“Chloe…”

Rachel had broken character. Her voice held a weight to it now.

“Fuck. Here it comes.” Chloe thought. The urge to take back everything she said had become overwhelming. Every time she opened up like this, she knew she would regret it but yet it always found ways to bubble up and boil over. Normally she's able to suppress it all beneath clouds of smoke or swigs of alcohol.

Chloe wiped away any remnants of tears on her face as she tried to put on her best grin, "You know what? Forget I said anything," she said with a hurry, "It's way too fucking early to be awake unless there's pancakes involved."

Each word fell out of her mouth in a hurried jumble, "Speaking of pancakes, let's go grab some now! Right now. I'm sure Kate won't mind you being a few minutes late to-"

Chloe didn't realize she was halfway off the bed until she felt Rachel’s hand on her shoulder, stopping her from getting up.

"Chloe, sit down."

"Look, we don't have to do this. I'm serious, there are pancakes with our names on them down at the Two Whales. We can-"

"Please."

The forced smile faded from Chloe’s face as she met Rachel's gaze. She retreated back onto her bed and repositioned herself across from the other. Her eyes fell down on the bed yet she could still feel Rachel’s eyes watching her closely.

Rachel cleared her throat as she moved her hair onto one side, "Do you remember what I told you three years ago?"

Chloe's face scrunched up as she began to pick at the lint on her blanket, "What?"

"Three years ago. What I said to you during the play."

Chloe felt a cringe erupt from the depth of her chest. Although the thought of being in The Tempest still made her go pink in embarrassment from being drenched in glitter while wearing the tightest tights that have probably ever existed, the memories remained to be fond ones. She thought back to the pulse of panic that she felt when Rachel began to go off script and how she was supposed to carry on without the lines she rehearsed for a total of 5 minutes. Then suddenly, the nerves had fallen away just as quickly as they came and it felt like it was just her and Rachel who existed in the entire world. Everyone in the crowd had faded away from Chloe’s view and Rachel, shrouded in the glow of the stage lights, was all that she could see. In that moment, Rachel was all that mattered.

Rachel waited for Chloe’s response but she met her with silence. Chloe could swear she saw the other’s frown deepen.

Rachel took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“I swear to thee: we shall fly beyond this isle, the corners of the world our mere prologue…”

Chloe’s voice was soft, yet she recited back, “I’ll seek to make thy happiness so great that e’en the name of liberty’s forgot.”

She risked a glance and saw that a smile tugged at the corners of Rachel’s lips, yet her eyebrows still remained slightly furrowed and her eyes were still glazed with sadness, “Still my magical Shakespeare fairy even after all this time.”

Chloe could still almost feel her arm aching as she remembered holding Rachel through the entire night when she had first learned about Sera. She could still remember the way her shoulder became soaked with tears as the makeshift constellations stared down at them like distant observers of the night. The way her heart broke with every one of Rachel’s silent sobs that reverberated across the bed. The way her chest welled with emotions as they planned their grand escape. The escape that never came to fruition.

How did they get here?

Where were they trying to go?

Chloe’s throat remained a bundle of nerves and she struggled to fill the silence that felt like a brick wall between her and Rachel. Although she cursed herself for falling short of words, she could tell that Rachel was sifting through her own thoughts. After another stretch of quiet, Rachel finally opened her mouth to speak.

“I still mean everything I said on that stage, by the way.” she started. The pause and the hitch in her voice told Chloe that she was just as nervous as her, but Rachel has always been so much better at masking her nerves than Chloe, “That night felt like a different lifetime though, huh?”

Chloe gave a slow nod in response, the little pile of blanket fuzz she'd been picking was slowly growing in size. Rachel continued, “No matter how far away it feels, it’s still ours though. Every lifetime that we live through together will always be ours, Chloe. And I don’t know about you, but the list of lifetimes that I want to live with you continue to grow every time I look at those steely eyes of yours.”

A burst of red crept into Chloe’s cheeks yet she remained focused on the blanket beneath her. Rachel had begun fiddling with her own hands in her lap and Chloe had begun to wonder if she picked up the habit from her. Rachel took a breath, “I think you know me well enough to know that I’m full of shit.” Chloe quirked her eyebrow at that and Rachel continued on, “I walk around acting like I have my shit together, but realistically, I’m lost. I feel like I wake up everyday and cycle through different versions of myself until something sticks.”

Chloe picked her gaze up from her impressive pile of fluff, and found that Rachel’s eyes had cast downward to an unknown funnel of thought. Her hazel eyes slowly scanned the empty space between them as if watching memories playback on the fabric, “But, with you, I… I feel like I know.” Her lips tightened into a straight line as Chloe watched her in silence, “I feel like I know who I am and what I want… and I want you, Chloe.”

Chloe’s breath got caught in her throat as Rachel looked up at her, their eyes meeting for what felt like the first time, “I want a life with you. And fuck, that’s something that I’ve been so fucking terrified to say out loud. But ever since I first saw you all those years ago, standing there at your locker, brown hair and cute little angry face, as you shoved whatever homework you didn’t give a shit about into your worn down backpack… I knew.”

Rachel carefully shifted herself closer and gently laid her hands on top of Chloe’s and Chloe swears she could feel the darkness she felt in her chest melting away.

“I can’t tell you to not be scared because well… I don’t think this will ever stop being scary. But please, trust me.” Sincerity dripped off every word that floated out of Rachel’s lips, “Trust me, when I tell you that I want you. I want this. I want to run away with you, my faithful Ariel. I want to live lifetimes with you, my loyal accomplice.”

Chloe didn’t even notice that her shoulders were tensed up to her ears until they slumped back down as she released a shaky breath. Her vision became blurry with tears as Rachel gripped her hand tighter.

“I love you, Chloe Price.” Rachel reached a hand up to Chloe’s cheek and wiped a stray tear, “I love you to the stars and back.”

Tears slid down Chloe’s face as she leaned into the warmth. She took one look at Rachel and it clicked.

“To the stars and back,” Chloe replied.

And suddenly, she knew.

How they got there lay in the unbroken promises, the quiet mornings, the loud nights, the laughter in the mundane, the support in the rough, the love.

Where they were trying to go lay in the chase of brighter skies, the dreams of shared space, the ambition of adventure, the sense of belonging, the lifetimes to live, the hope.

As the pair remained still in the company of the other, a soft grumble cut through the silence. Chloe raised a brow and looked Rachel up and down, a smile forming across her face. Her tears had begun to dry and the itch in her brain had ceased. She felt lighter now, like she could do anything.

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh as she patted her own stomach, “So, you think those pancakes are still waiting for us?”

“Why don’t we go and find out?” Chloe grabbed Rachel’s arm and tugged her out of bed. Rachel became a giggling mess as she fell into Chloe’s arms and Chloe could have sworn it was the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

Chapter Text

The walls of the metal cage rattled as Kate fastened a freshly filled sipper bottle onto it. She admired her handiwork for a moment as she fluffed the aspen bedding in the thoroughly cleaned rabbit cage. From the corner of her eye, the blur of a ball of fluff zipped into her book bag with a hurried thump. After the bedding had reached an acceptable level of fluffiness, Kate turned on her knees and faced the trembling bag.

“Alice,” Kate’s voice was soft and kind, “Your little home is clean now. Come here.”

Alice peeked her head out from the bag, eyes wide and nose sniffing the air with a vigor. She retreated back into the shadows of her makeshift safe haven and Kate stifled a laugh, “Come on, little bun. We’re going to have a guest over any minute and I can’t focus on working if you’re thumping out and about.” Her furry companion shuffled in the book bag for a moment before settling into a stillness as if in an attempt to fool her owner.

“Very clever.” Kate smiled as she stood and walked over to the furry fugitive, “We’ll play hide and seek later, I promise.”

She waited a moment for any sign of surrender. Kate harnessed the power of patience in almost every aspect of her daily life, be it during conversations with others, unwanted approaches from the occasional jock, or even waiting her turn in line at her favorite tea shop during a lunch rush. Though, through everything, she had the most patience for her little furry companion. Perhaps it was because Alice entered Kate’s life at a particularly precarious time. Her grandmother had just passed away and she felt the ground beneath her feet shift as she had lost one of the greatest lights of her life. She had taught Kate everything she knew. From sewing to rollerblading to changing oil in a car or managing kindness to sharing gratitude to keeping faith in the darkest times, Grandma Alice was Kate’s mentor and her biggest inspiration. When she passed away, Kate didn’t know how she was going to cope. Through the grief and mourning, Kate’s father had taken it upon himself to introduce an opportunity of new light and thus Alice was so graciously integrated into their family one fateful morning.

Although Kate had an incredible amount of leniency for Alice’s shenanigans, she did have a guest arriving any minute and needed utmost cooperation to get their tasks done. She slowly lifted up the flap of the bag. Just as she was about to peer into the hiding spot, a series of knocks hit the door causing Kate to turn her head just as Alice gracefully hopped out and around her. She looked back to the unoccupied faux leather shelter and around the dorm room with no sign of the little rabbit.

She heaved a sigh, “Alice, now isn’t the time for games.” Another knock on the door caused Kate to turn around and dust off her skirt. She kept her eyes on the surrounding carpet to ensure that Alice wasn’t plotting a swift escape before collecting her composure and opening the door.

She swung the door open and found Rachel Amber smiling brightly at her as she leaned on the doorframe. Her blue feather earring swung from her ear as she gently cocked her head to one side, “Hey, Kate. Are you still free for our little modeling sesh?”

“Hi, Rachel.” Kate smiled back, “Yes, of course. Come on in.”

Rachel accepted the invitation and entered the dorm room. As she walked through the door, Kate got hit with the warm smell of jasmine and something else that she couldn't immediately place. Cigarettes mixed with… pancakes? Interesting combination, yet Kate didn’t pay it much mind. She’s been at Blackwell long enough to never be surprised with how people choose to spend their time. However, Rachel always remained to be an enigma considering she never seemed to hang out with one particular group of people. Instead she chose to spend time with almost anyone that would give her the time of day, which was basically almost everybody in Arcadia Bay.

Kate closed the door and kept her eyes low to the ground, scanning for any sign of movement. She looked up to see Rachel observing the selection of posters, drawings, and pictures taped on her walls. Having little snippets of her own life observed by another made Kate’s stomach turn a bit. Not only was Rachel a grade above her but she was also Vortex royalty and probably had much cooler things to do than sit still in Kate’s dorm to get drawn for a project they got partnered for. “Beauty in simplicity” was their prompt and, although it seemed like an easy prompt to fulfill, Kate still found herself nervous about working with someone like Rachel who seemed to have all the beauty and none of the simplicity.

Kate’s eyes began to wander around her own living space. She felt a rush of panic as she suddenly became hyper aware of all the flaws in her little dorm and the judgment that could follow. The wrinkles in the sheets of her bed, the straggling bits of Aspen shavings on the ground, the embarrassing amount of dust filtering through the light of her window. As her mother used to say, “Cleanliness is the first step to the cultivation of a peaceful living space.” And judging from the amount of mess Kate had begun to notice, peace was fleeting.

Maybe they should’ve met up in Rachel’s dorm instead. Kate’s only been in there a handful of times in the last few years to return borrowed pens and books. On even rarer occasions, she went over and let Rachel practice some new makeup trends she would find online. Unlike Victoria, who would go out of her way to make sure Kate felt the target that seemed to be pinned to her back, Rachel always seemed to try her best to make sure everyone around her felt like they were important. Important to no one in particular, but important nonetheless. It was something that Kate always found to be admirable about someone so popular.

“This pic of you, Alyssa, and Stella is insanely adorable.” Rachel said as she leaned in closer to the picture taped on the wall, “I think I saw the same one on the front of Alyssa’s binder.”

Kate shook herself out of her thoughts as she suddenly remembered why her eyes were methodically surveying the ground. She blinked as her eyes grew wide realizing that, while Rachel walked around her room like it was a museum, she wasn't looking where she was stepping. As she looked up at the cartoons on the wall that Kate had doodled in her free time, the shadow of Rachel’s sneaker hovered over a rabbit shaped lump under a pajama shirt that had fallen out of the laundry basket.

“Rachel, wait!” Kate called out as she lunged towards the shirt on the ground. Rachel stumbled back, holding her hands up in a shocked surrender. The former lifted up the hem of the pajama top and revealed… a pair of bundled socks? Kate hung her head low as embarrassment filled her cheeks to the brim.

After a moment, Rachel lowered her hands, “Hey… is everything okay?” Her voice was so calm and reassuring that it almost made Kate feel at ease.

Rachel kneeled down and put her hand on a sunken shoulder, “Kate?”

“I’m sorry.” Kate finally said after she felt the color of her cheeks normalize, “I was cleaning Alice’s cage before you came and I wasn’t able to put her back in.”

“Oh…” Rachel hesitated, confused. She seemed to think for a moment before she realized what the other was saying, “OH! Oh shit. You can’t find her?”

Kate shook her head.

“Well, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.” Rachel twirled her head around the room in search, “I’ll help you look!”

Before Kate could protest, Rachel was already crawling around the dorm peeking into every nook and cranny she could find. Although her eyebrows remained in a worried furrow, Kate found herself stifling a laugh as she watched Blackwell’s own queen of drama stumble around on her hands and knees in search for the little companion. Kate joined the search party, peeking in every hidden shadow and empty bag she owned.

Rachel slid out an uncapped storage box and peered inside only to find various bibles and rosaries of almost every color and material, “Woah. That’s a lot of Jesus." She looked up to see Kate looking at her from behind her desk chair, “Sorry, that was probably hella insensitive.”

Kate smiled as she sat up from looking behind her desk, “No, it’s alright. Most of those are gifts from people from my church. ‘The gift of God is the greatest gift of all’ is something that my father always said.”

“Well, it seems more thoughtful than a gift card at least.” Rachel shrugged as she looked back into the Jesus box, “Bibles and rosaries aren’t the craziest thing I’ve seen people collect.”

“Really?” Kate leaned back against the wall, still on alert for Alice. She took a deep breath as she met Rachel’s eyes.

Rachel sat back on her hands, “Oh, yeah. You know Courtney? She collects gum wrappers. She has a drawer full of them in her desk. Granted some of them are vintage and actually cool, but most of them are just your run of the mill wrappers you could find on the floor all around campus.”

“Huh, I would’ve never thought.”

“Yeah, and Logan? He might act like he’s tough and scary but he collects nickels.”

The thought of someone as big and scary as Logan, spending his free time shining nickels is something that Kate couldn’t help but giggle at, “Nickels? I’ve heard of quarter collectors but never nickels.”

Rachel flipped her hair over her shoulder, “Yeah, he’s convinced it’s some sort of investment. Sure, protein shakes get the guy going, but give the guy a buffalo nickel? Dude would start foaming at the mouth.”

Kate’s giggle turned into a laugh. She quickly silenced herself and got ahold of her composure, she almost forgot who she was talking to. Letting her guard down around people like Rachel was something she had learned to be wary of, but this felt different. There was a certain energy that Rachel radiated that felt genuine, however it lay hidden beneath the surfaces of entitlement and popularity. To be someone like Rachel, you had to learn to upkeep appearances which is something that seemed to come naturally. However, something that Kate always seemed to notice was Rachel’s authenticity. Whenever they interacted, Rachel always seemed to make Kate feel like an equal instead of a lesser, which was almost unheard of coming from Rachel’s bracket of the student body.

Rachel sat back up and gently put the box of rosaries and bibles back into the cubby it was in originally. Kate shifted her weight towards her bed and began looking around for any trails of white fur. Alice really couldn’t have gotten that far but it was beginning to seem as though she had found her own little rabbit hole to fall through because there was no sign of her anywhere. Kate’s mind started to wonder if there was actually a hidden hole in the walls that she didn’t know about and that maybe Alice really was missing now. She couldn’t bear to think about her little bun getting lost in the walls or far worse. Would anyone ever take her seriously if she had to resort to putting up missing bunny posters around the halls? She would probably get chewed alive with the mockery of losing her pet that she fought so hard to have in her dorm in the first place.

“Do you miss your church?”

The sudden question made Kate pause her search as she looked over to the other hazel eyed teen, who was beginning to inspect under the couch. She unscrambled her thoughts and fumbled an answer, “Y-yes, of course. I miss it everyday.”

Rachel sighed as the only bunnies she found under the couch were of the dust variety, “What do you miss about it?” The question didn’t sound condescending or malicious, but thoughtful and curious which was something that Kate wasn’t used to when being asked about her religion or her life prior to Blackwell. Not many people seemed to take Kate and her faith seriously. She had been considering starting a faith club of some sort, but she quickly learned that not many people would be interested yet she still wondered about the possibility.

Kate retracted her head from under her bed, “Well, I- I guess I miss the sense of community there. Everyone was always so welcoming and kind to one another,” she fought the urge to bite her tongue, “Ever since I left home to come to school here, I don’t think I’ve found a place that I truly belong like I did when I was at my church.”

There was a hesitancy in Kate’s voice, as if she was waiting for a sucker punch of ridicule to come her way. Ever since she started attending Blackwell, it seemed as though she got shuffled further down the food chain with each passing year. The Vortex club dominated while everyone else clawed at each other to move up a notch. As unjust as it felt, it was just how things were, and somehow there was an unspoken agreement that it was the way it would remain. People like Rachel were apex predators while people like Kate were prey to their mockery.

Yet, there was something about Rachel that made the lines of the popularity chain blur into almost nothing. While people like Nathan Prescott and Victoria Chase made Kate want to cower in fear, Rachel Amber made her feel like she had a chance to survive the tyranny that the Vortex club had over the school. She’s put herself in the crossfire for Kate several times, saving her from seemingly endless harsh remarks or derogatory hisses from bullies that always seemed to litter the halls. Come to think of it, Kate wondered if she ever really had formally thanked her for her passing kindness.

“I get that.” Rachel started, “Blackwell definitely isn’t the ultimate hub of kindness and compassion. There are some real fucking assholes around here. Take it from me,” she scoffed, “I would know.”

Images of scrawled writing in the dorm bathroom and girl’s locker room suddenly flashed through Kate’s mind.

Rachel aka Queen of Sluts.

RA is a lesbo.

Two faced bitch of the year: Rachel Amber.

Were they true? It was none of Kate’s business, but she couldn’t help but think about how none of the slander seemed to match the person currently helping her search for her missing bunny across her lint ridden floor. God, why is there so much lint on the ground? Maybe a hand vacuum would be a smart investment in the future.

Kate realized the silence had lingered for a moment too long and she scrambled to break the quiet, “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to the ridicule, I suppose. Someone like me tends to be the perfect candidate for that type of stuff.”

With a shrug, Kate resumed moving around shoe boxes under her bed to look for Alice. However, she felt something burning into the back of her neck. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, where she was certain she would find Rachel staring at her. A nagging voice chipped away in the back of Kate’s mind.

This is it. Here comes the sucker punch.

“No one should have to deal with that fucked up shit, you know? Especially you.”

Kate relaxed her shoulders, she didn’t even know they were tense. She slowly turned her head to find Rachel sitting cross legged, looking back up to the photo of her, Stella, and Alyssa that she commented on earlier, “That stuff can really wear you down after awhile.”

There was something in her voice that Kate couldn’t quite place. The words didn’t seem to leave Rachel’s mouth from a place of warning, but more from a place of experience. Kate dropped her eyes down to the ground. Perhaps she had more in common with Blackwell’s queen of drama than she had originally thought. Kate stared and it seemed like Rachel’s mind had wandered away. Her hazel eyes remained fixated on the photo and Kate couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her head. There always seemed to be a force field that surrounded people like Rachel, like they were almost untouchable. The Vortex Club seemed to have everything they needed: money, popularity, beauty, and talent seemed to be in their grasp at all times. Yet in this moment, Rachel looked almost tired, almost like she was being weighed down by something invisible.

Rachel broke her gaze from the photo and looked back to Kate, her award winning smile returning to her face, “Just be careful, okay? The world is filled with sharks ready to get you.” Her smile faltered for just a brief moment, so brief that Kate could have missed it by a blink of an eye, “No matter how threatening someone’s bite seems to be, you’ll always find your own way to bite back. Be it through kindness or empathy or being a total bitch, you’ll find your own special way of fighting. Your own special way of carving your own path.”

Rachel nodded her head at her own words and Kate couldn't tell if she was stilling talking to her or to herself, “The world will never stop trying to fuck you over, but you gotta keep pushing on, you know?”

Kate’s mouth hung open slightly, “My grandmother used to tell me something similar,” she smiled fondly at the thought of her late relative, “She never used curse words, but she used to say ‘Katie… there’s only one person in the world who loves you more than the Lord himself and that person is me,’” she said in a fake grandmotherly tone and she swears she saw Rachel smile, “‘And I love me a tough cookie. So, no matter how hard life gets, you have to keep pushing forward.’”

She met the other’s eyes and Rachel’s smile grew wider, “She sounds like she was a great woman.”

“She really was.”

A silence fell between them both, yet it didn’t feel awkward as Kate would have imagined. It felt like it was a moment of understanding, a moment of peace.

Rachel cleared her throat, “Still no luck with Alice, huh?”

“No, but it’s okay. Like you said, she’s around here somewhere.” Kate sighed. She stood up, her leg filling with static, “We can start working on our project though. I don’t want to take up too much more of your time.”

“You kidding?" Rachel smirked, "Spending my morning on a bunny rescue mission is a morning well spent.”

Kate smiled before dusting herself off and walking back to her desk to continue fishing for her sketchbook. She was rummaging through her drawer of pencils and charcoal when she heard a small gasp from behind her.

“Kate…”

Kate turned around to see Rachel still sitting on the ground but this time with her hands up and a perfectly round bundle of white fur in her lap, “I think I found Alice.” Rachel said, wide eyed.

“Better yet, it seems like she found you.” Kate replied as she watched Alice’s nose wriggle in the air. Rachel still had her hands up in surrender, unmoving.

“I don’t want to scare her.” Rachel whispered as if the bunny was able to understand, “What do I do?”

“It’s okay,” Kate said gently. She produced her notebook in her hands and sat across the two newly formed friends, “You can pet her. It seems like she likes you.”

Rachel slowly lowered her hands onto Alice’s fur and began petting her. The bunny curled herself deeper into Rachel’s leg in response. It seemed as though even Alice wasn’t immune to the calm that seemed to drip off Rachel’s fingertips as she began to drift off slowly to sleep. Kate watched as a smile formed on Rachel’s face. It was a different smile than what Kate sees her flash to people in the halls. It somehow felt warmer, filled with a quiet happiness.

Without breaking her gaze from the sleeping bunny, Rachel tilted her head, “Should we put her back in her cage?”

Kate stared at her for a moment. It felt as though she was looking at a Rachel Amber that she’s never seen before. A Rachel Amber that was away from the Vortex Club. A Rachel Amber that allowed herself to shed the mask she’s crafted for people to see. This was the most authentic and genuine Rachel Amber that Kate Marsh has ever seen.

She was beautiful.

Kate flipped open her sketchbook and got a grip on her pen, “No, stay just like that. This is perfect.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t know how well that would work considering how low your HP is from the battle against Grangore.” Steph leaned her weight on the edge of a cardboard box before giving it a forceful shove. Feathers wafted off a feather boa as the box glided across the floor, eventually hitting the wall to a halt.

“Besides,” Steph wiped sweat from her brow, “since Elamon’s hand was sliced off during his last confrontation with the barbarian centaurs, your rolls will have to be pretty high to pull off a spell like that.”

She stood with her hands on her hips while she looked around the theater’s dressing room. She was pleased with how much progress she had made organizing everything from props to costumes in preparation for the modern rendition of Hamlet that was set to hit Blackwell’s stage the following week. Through her four years at Blackwell, Steph’s responsibilities as a stage manager for the theater department have only grown more arduous. She was a one woman stage production machine and between her and Mr. Keaton, they prided themselves in carrying the evolving cast and crew of Blackwell theater to greatness. Although Mr. Keaton’s dramatic spells of panic about Steph graduating this year sent flickers of guilt through the latter, she knew that she was beyond ready to escape the clutches of Arcadia Bay and hit the road towards her next adventure.

“I still have my regeneration potion that I stole from the cave of the Infernal Beast. I could always use that.”

Steph flicked her eyes back to her phone that was propped on the vanity mirror across the room. She raised her eyebrow at the tiny Mikey that looked at her through the phone screen, “Perhaps that could work in your favor.”

“Hmm,” Mikey said as he tapped his chin, “I’ll give it some more thought. How’s it going playing theater janitor?”

Steph looked around the room at the myriad of fake swords and tangled wigs that still littered the floor, “Just peachy.” She took a seat at the vanity and rested her chin on her hands, “Thanks for asking.”

Mikey smiled at the sarcasm, “No problem.” The video grew shaky as he picked up his phone from wherever it was sitting. Steph saw glimpses of his room in progress at his dad’s new apartment in Tillamook. Although balancing being stage manager, aceing her classes, and life in general was stressful enough, Steph was happy to have had Mikey by her side through it all. He finally hit his growth spurt and was almost as tall as Drew now although his timid personality remained the same. She felt like she’s known the North family all her life and couldn’t help but feel a little gutted at the idea of graduating and not being able to have their weekly hangouts as often as they do now.

“By the way,” Mikey's voice cut through the rustling sound of his bed, “I finally watched that scary movie Drew was telling us about.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steph replied as she fiddled with a makeup brush on the table, “How was it?” She would take any type of tangent as to not have to continue tidying up the mess around her. She settled into her chair and prepared for Mikey’s full scale movie review.

Through the phone screen, Steph watched Mikey lean back onto his bed frame before his face contorted in thought, “It was good. There were some shots that were trying a little too hard to be artsy, you know? Like a wannabe Kubrick but not with as much finesse.” Mikey pursed his lip out, “But there was this one part where one of the characters was talking on the phone with her friend but then her friend’s voice started to sound all evil and messed up. The girl was like ‘Dude, what the hell?’ then her friend on the other end of the line started to speak some demonic gibberish which, now that I think about it, is probably an easter egg of some kind if you play it backwards.” He squinted his eyes at the possibility. Steph squinted her eyes with him as she smiled and nodded along. Spending the bulk of her teenage life in Arcadia Bay has proven to be nothing short of soul sucking, but she couldn’t help but find herself grateful for having someone like Mikey to be able to match her nerd energy. That was who they were, Blackwell’s resident nerdy dynamic duo, and Steph wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Mikey went on about the cheap scares and inconsistencies and Steph listened with perked ears as she picked away at the old clumps of makeup on the brush she twirled in her hands.

“Anyway she was totally trying to stay calm and thought it was some sick joke but then just as she was about to hang up, the camera pans behind her to show someone standing in front of her closet door.”

“Ha! Typical.” Steph snorted.

“Yeah, but get this…” Mikey lowered his voice in suspense, “The girl turned around and just as she was able to see the figure standing behind her she…”

Mikey’s voice trailed off and Steph picked her eyes up from the hangnail she was fiddling with after she dropped the makeup brush on the ground. Mikey had sat up in his bed, brows furrowed and eyes squinted at her, “Hey, Steph…”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Who’s that behind you?”

Steph rolled her eyes as she sat up in her chair to lean in closer to her phone, “Ha. Ha. Very funny, dude.”

Before Mikey could get another word in, Steph looked up at the mirror and saw a shadow lunge for her. Steph yelped and put her arms over her head in a futile effort to protect herself. Instead of a blow to the head or a fatal stab wound, she received a bear hug instead. Her eyes remained sealed shut until she heard a familiar laugh.

“I’m so sorry, Gingrich.” the voice said as Steph was released from the clutches of her tormentor, “It was way too tempting not to.”

Steph lowered her arms and she opened her eyes to see Rachel Amber as she held her stomach in laughter. Steph felt her cheeks growing red as she tried to recollect her composure, “Jesus, fuck. I haven’t jumped like that in awhile. Not bad, Amber… not bad.” She could only hope that her voice was steady enough to play off her racing heart.

Rachel gave a theatrical bow, “I couldn’t have done it without my lovely costar, Mr. North.” She stepped forward and leaned onto the vanity to give a proper smile and wave to Mikey. Steph’s cheeks grew redder as she felt the heat radiating from Rachel’s shoulder next to hers.

No, Gingrich. Not yours. Stop that.

Steph and Rachel have known each other for years now and, being two of the drama club’s veterans, they’ve grown closer throughout their time as stage manager and leading actress. Steph would be lying if she said that she didn’t sometimes think about an alternate universe where she and Rachel got together. However, just like with Rachel, Steph also found herself getting closer to Chloe throughout the years, and she had nothing but respect for the relationship that the two had formed since they first met. There had been a handful of times where Steph somehow found herself in the crosshairs of the occasional fight between Rachel and Chloe, to which she tried her best to lay down a helpful word or warm shoulder to cry on. She still had a scar from the time a piece of glass from a shattered bottle found its way to her calf after talking Chloe down from a particularly rough argument with Rachel in the junkyard during their sophomore year. She’s watched every phase of the pair’s relationship come and go from a safe distance, and she had to hand it to them for they finally seemed to hit a point of healthy maturity.

Although Steph took pride in her ability to maintain a state of level headedness in times of others’ needs, she was still human… which unfortunately meant that not even she was immune to Rachel Amber’s charms. Arcadia Bay was a small town with an even smaller dating pool and although she would never do anything to sabotage another relationship, her mind wandered off every now and again. Steph blinked herself out of her thoughts as she honed back into Rachel and Mikey’s conversation.

“Good!” Mikey said, “Yeah, my dad’s loving his new job. Drew should be coming down to visit in a few days. I’ll drag him to campus so you can say hi.”

“That’s great to hear! I’d love to hear all about Drew’s crazy college life. Definitely hit my line when he’s around. I’ll make time!” Rachel always managed to fit perfectly into any conversation and Steph couldn’t help but stare for a moment too long, “I’m sorry to have interrupted you both. I was just stopping by to see if Mr. Keaton was in. I’m supposed to do a final fitting for my costume for opening night next week.”

“Well,” Steph said, clearing her throat, “He had to leave early to deal with some plumbing issue at his place, so I’m sorry to say that you’re stuck with boring ol’ me.”

Rachel jutted out her hip and pursed her lips in thought, “Hmm.” She looked Steph up and down which made Steph’s stomach do a flip, “I think you’ll just have to do.”

A muffled voice echoed through Steph’s phone as Mikey shouted in response. He turned his attention back to his friends, “That’s my cue to jet. Dad needs some help moving the couch. Nice seeing you for a second, Rachel! Talk to you later, Game Master General?”

“Totally. Catch you later, Mikey.” Steph smiled.

Rachel waved her goodbyes as Steph hung up the call. It was just her and Blackwell’s very own queen of drama now. Rachel stood back up straight and did a slow twirl, examining the dressing room which had begun to feel like her second home away from home, apart from Chloe’s room that is. Steph followed her line of sight as it darted across the room to various piles of mess. The blond turned back around to see Steph with her shoulders slumped, “Did this place get ransacked or has our beloved stage manager finally decided to put on the costumes instead of just design them?” A sly smile grew on Rachel’s lips.

Steph let out a low laugh, “You would like that, wouldn’t you? But no to both.” She got up from the vanity seat and stretched her arms above her head, “Mr. Keaton thought it would be good to do some spring cleaning while we got everything set up for the show next week.”

Rachel crossed her arms and a suspicious look fell across her face, “And he just happened to have plumbing problems right as you started cleaning?”

Steph squinted her eyes and opened her mouth. She thought for a moment, “Huh… that does sound kind of sketchy now that you say it.”

The blond shrugged, “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have been much help anyway. I’ve seen that man’s arms shake whenever he picks up anything that weighs more than a clipboard.”

The weary stage manager couldn’t help but roll her eyes and laugh. As much as she loved Mr. Keaton, he has proven to be less than helpful when it came to any heavy lifting. She put her hands on her hips and looked around at the piles of boxes that were stacked in unsteady towers, just waiting for the perfect moment to crumble under their own weight. The silence had lingered for much longer than Steph had the energy to notice and by the time she found herself back in reality, Rachel had already begun to pick up the various garments that littered the floor. Steph blinked as she watched the actress hum along to an unsung tune while she occasionally threw on a new wig or mask as she tidied up the space.

“What are you doing?” Steph’s eyes widened at the hoarseness of her own voice. Jesus, maybe she was more tired than she realized.

Rachel turned around with a pile of mismatched costumes in her arms and a mardi gras mask draped over her eyes, “I’m helping you out. No offense, but you look like you need it.”

Steph rubbed her eyes and sighed at the sting that accompanied the motions of lack of sleep. Between juggling midterms, graduation preparation, stage design, costume design, and maintaining her legacy as the best dungeon master this side of the Pacific Northwest, Steph couldn’t deny that she was beat. Just the thought of getting a full eight hours of sleep was enough to make her legs weak. Yet she knew too many depended on her and so she was fine sacrificing a few hours of rest a night to keep up with the hustle and bustle of her final year at Blackwell.

“Steph?”

Steph shook herself back into reality as she found hazel eyes looking to her for direction, “Where do these go?”

“Fuck, sorry.” she pointed, “Over there in that box.”

With a skip in her step, Rachel dumped the contents in her arms into a dusty box. Steph couldn’t help but wonder how Rachel has managed to maintain her own circus of responsibilities between juggling school, partying, her popularity, several friend groups, and a relationship while still looking like she just walked straight out of a modeling magazine. Steph was finally able to relay the message from her head to her legs to start moving again and began pushing boxes around. The two worked in silence, occasionally broken by Rachel humming a new song. Although it might have been clouded by her fatigue, she didn’t feel as awkward as she normally would in quiet one on one situations. She’s known Rachel for years now and they’ve worked together in numerous plays throughout their time at Blackwell together, not to mention the several gaming sessions she and Chloe would drop into and participate in. However, Steph couldn’t quite pinpoint a time that it was ever just the two of them in a room like this.

Suddenly becoming hyper aware of the quiet, Steph urged to fill in the space. She took out a sharpie from her pocket and started to label the boxes that Rachel had finished sorting through and organizing. Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, Rachel beat her to the punch by gasping so loudly that Steph was impressed she managed not to choke on the dust that was sweeping off some of the props they were handling. Steph looked over her shoulder to see Rachel holding a wooden staff in her hands like she was just knighted by King Arthur himself.

“Holy shit!” the blond yelled, “This brings back so many damn memories! Chloe and I were just talking about this play earlier today.”

Steph held her gaze, confused. As if by the flip of a switch, Rachel changed her demeanor and held the prop in one hand while assuming a position in the middle of the dressing room.

“Now my charms are all o'erthrown, and what strength I have's mine own. Pray, release me from my bands, with the help of your good hands” she recited with ease as she held her arms open.

It finally clicked in Steph’s mind as she stood up and dusted off her hands, “Why, isn’t it Prospera here in the flesh?” She couldn’t help but smile at the nostalgia that seemed to cover Rachel’s face as she spun Prospera’s staff in her hand, “Damn, I really wish I was able to see that show. I would kill to watch Chloe try to act her ass off in front of the whole school.”

“Honestly, I was super impressed with how she did. She really crushed it. That was probably the first and last time she would ever be seen wearing a leotard.” Rachel gave the staff one last twirl before placing it back in its rightful home. She turned her back and continued rummaging through piles of worn out props and stale stage makeup.

Steph humored herself at the thought of someone as punk rock as Chloe being adorned in sequins and glitter. She returned to labeling boxes, “So, how is Chloe?”

“She’s good.” Steph could hear the smile from Rachel’s voice, “I was just with her this morning. She told me to say hey and that Barb the Barbarian is going to come back next session with a vengeance.”

Steph scoffed, “I don’t think she could get out of the hole she’s in with her charisma alone this time.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Another silence fell between the two as they focused on their cleaning tasks. Several stacks of unsteady cardboard boxes and a handful of precarious false alarms later, the room had finally begun to look like a usable dressing room again. Steph walked over to the last stack of boxes that needed to be labeled while Rachel plopped down to rest onto a pile of costumes that were going to be donated. Steph was able to feel her staring as she suddenly forgot how to spell any word that she ever knew. She finally managed to write “Foam swords” on a box just as Rachel cleared her throat.

“So, how about you, Gingrich?” the blond asked.

Steph yawned as she turned around and replaced the cap on her sharpie, “What about me, Amber?”

“Has anyone been casted as the coveted role to be your girlfriend yet?”

Steph felt all of the blood in her body rush to her cheeks. Unlike earlier, she couldn’t quite hide it this time and Rachel took notice and tried to backpedal, “Sorry, too personal?” She was always so good at keeping face and keeping things casual, something that Steph herself always tried to emulate.

“No, it’s uh-” Steph waved her hands in the air to nothing in particular, “Yeah, no. Not yet.”

“Huh…” Rachel said as she squinted, “Interesting.”

Steph felt around in her pockets in hopes to find solace in… fuck. Where was her phone? Did they pack it away in one of the boxes? She tried to act like she wasn’t super uncomfortable as she began scanning the room. Meanwhile, Rachel was scanning her.

“Interesting?” Steph managed to say as she walked over to the vanity and sat down in hopes to remember where she last left her phone.

“Yeah.” The blond answered, “You’re a catch and a half. Just surprised that no one has roped you up in their web yet.” Steph thanked the person who invented beanies because if she wasn’t wearing hers, she was sure that her ears were red and burning enough to be considered a fire hazard.

“Are you…” Rachel continued with caution, “...looking?”

“Nope!”

Shit, was it obvious she was nervous?

Rachel raised her brow in amusement, “Uh-huh.”

Shit, it was obvious.

Then, as if it was staged, a familiar ring filled the silence. The two looked at each other then down at the source of the noise which was coming from beneath a straggling theater mask that found its way out of a box.

“Is that ring from-”

“Double nope!” Steph cut Rachel off just as she lunged for her phone, but Rachel was far too quick and grabbed it before the former could.

“Fuck.” Steph sighed as she hung her head low, her knees burning from her slide on the carpet.

“I know that ring!” Rachel said in excitement as she looked at the phone, “It’s the one that comes from the dating app that Taylor and Hayden use.”

“Kill me now.”

Rachel laid back down into her throne of forgotten costumes. She patted the ground next to her as a truce and an invitation which Steph accepted after the blood had begun flowing back down to the rest of her body. She laid down and Rachel scooted closer to her so they could both look at the phone screen together. Steph had five notifications waiting for her on the dating app, all of which being potential matches for her, and now Rachel, to view. The blond scanned the notifications as Steph hid her eyes behind her hands. If she wasn’t so hyped on adrenaline, she could easily have fallen asleep right then and there.

Rachel’s brows were creased together in contemplation as she let out hums of uncertainty. Steph braved to lower her hands as Rachel scrolled through the messages that were awaiting Steph’s eyes.

“So…” Steph started.

Rachel thought for another moment, “Your profile is a perfect mix of nerdy and hot. I would swipe right on you in a heartbeat.”

Rachel swiped her finger across the phone screen, admiring every picture and laughing at every lame joke that made up Steph’s dating profile. Steph watched with a pained look on her face. She felt like she was being judged at some rendition of Heaven’s gate and was waiting for the moment she would be sent straight down to the pits of hell for being too boring or having a typo on her profile.

“But as for your current matches… none of them seem like a good fit for you.” Rachel bit her lip as she concentrated on speed reading every profile that the dating app Gods deemed a match for Steph.

“Oh, yeah?” the other responded, sounding a little more curious than embarrassed, “How do you know? You’ve been scrolling for like two seconds.”

The blond shrugged, “Call it intuition. I don’t know. They all just seem… too fake for you.” Steph continued to watch Rachel scroll through, “And you seem like the type who wants something real and genuine. Something with potential. Someone with more heart, you know? None of this sugar-coated, one night stand bullshit.”

As much as Steph didn’t enjoy someone reading so far into her that she mind as well be transparent, Rachel was right. The dating app life has deemed futile but then again it might also be Steph’s fault for being too busy to really foster anything real out of the conversations she starts. Rachel went to the app's settings and saw that Steph’s radius went all the way to Seattle.

“Seattle, huh?” Rachel said turning to face the other.

“Yeah. I think that’s where I’m gonna go after graduation.”

Rachel continued, “So, you’re trying to get ahead of the game. Get to know some people on here so when you go up there after graduation, you won’t be totally alone without any connections.”

Jesus Christ, was this chick a mind reader or what?

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Respect.” the actress said, “Chloe and I are hoping to hit the road too. We’ve been saving up money ever since we met.” Her voice started to trail off, almost like she was falling into a daydream, “I think we can finally make it work. We can finally get out of this shit stick of a town.”

Steph moved her head to look at Rachel, who stared up at the ceiling with the slightest smile tugging at the corner of her lip. Steph caught just a glimmer of something in Rachel’s eye just then. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was love. Regardless, she knew that Rachel really wanted this.

“Yeah,” Steph replied, “I know that you guys have been wanting to ditch this place since you guys met.”

Rachel’s eyes danced across the ceiling as if she was watching a movie that Steph couldn’t see. She knew that above everything else that Rachel was, she was definitely a dreamer. She’s been to enough school play after parties to know how sentimental the actress could get after running on a high after a show. If she concentrated hard enough on the memories, Steph could taste the piss warm beer in her hands as she watches Rachel go on and on about Los Angeles and road trips and shitty motels while Chloe is glued to her side with music thumping through the walls of whatever house they would wind up at after a play. Steph had never said it to Rachel outloud, but she found Rachel’s ambitions infectious. Hearing Rachel’s dreams and aspirations only grow grander through the years has made Steph feel like her own dreams could be reality someday too.

“Chloe’s the only person I have ever met who is as down for any and every adventure as I am.” Rachel said, “When I’m with her, I feel like we could rule the world. There’s so much that I want to do, you know? She makes me want to be better. To accomplish more. To be more.”

Steph's eyes remained glued as Rachel continued on, “I used to think that we were wasting our time here in Arcadia Bay, but now that I look back on it all… the fights, the make ups, the boredom, the messiness, I know we wouldn’t be where we are now without any of it. It’s all a part of our own little story.”

“Yeah,” was all Steph managed to say.

“We’re all the stars of our own stories if you think about it.” Rachel continued on, “Every person we meet, every situation we’re in, every tear we shed… all part of this big story that makes up who we are in the end.”

Steph moved her gaze back up to the ceiling and it was like she could suddenly see what Rachel had been staring at. She watched her own life, her own dreams, ambitions, and memories dance across the ceiling, moments playing back in her mind of everything that made her who she is. She finally understood what drove Rachel to be the dreamer that she is… to live the greatest story that she possibly could.

Steph took a deep breath, “For what it’s worth… I’m happy I got to be a character in your story, Amber.”

Rachel broke her gaze from the ceiling and looked over to the other with a fond smile, “Likewise, Gingrich.”

The app rang again, breaking the two out of their reveries. Rachel picked the phone up from her stomach and looked at the newest notification.

“Hmm.” she said, back into her serious contemplation mode.

Steph propped her head up on her hand and looked at the screen. All the embarrassment that she felt just minutes prior had faded away, “Whatcha thinkin’, Ms. Matchmaker?”

“This chick seems…” Rachel paused, taking a moment to make sure she was sure, “...cool.”

“Oh yeah?” Steph asked, intrigued.

Rachel handed back her phone, “Yeah. I’m getting some good energy from her.”

Steph looked down at the notification and read the name aloud, “Izzie, huh?”

The actress put her hands behind her head and seemed content with her statement.

Steph’s finger hovered over the envelope icon. She glanced up at Rachel who seemed to be back in her daydream. After a moment’s deliberation, Steph typed out a message and hit send. She took a deep breath and laid back down on the pile of clothes next to the blond.

“We’ll see how this one goes.” Steph sighed as she put her arm back over her eyes.

Rachel smiled, “You could thank me later.”

Chapter Text

Victoria was going to murder Logan then use his bones to murder Zachary afterwards. She was certain that with enough meticulous planning, she would be able to get away with a double homicide. They were nothing but stupid meatheads anyway. One sway of her hips and she could probably make them kill each other.

The sun was beginning to set over Blackwell grounds and she had just finished her after-class study session with Ms. Grant. If it were up to Victoria, she would’ve left with the rest of the class immediately when the bell rang, but instead she got stuck like a fly in a spiderweb. After struggling in Ms. Grant’s science class last year, she was sure that having math this year with her wouldn’t be as atrocious yet here she was. Before this semester, she was sure that a mathematical formula wouldn’t be able to make her go insane but now, she was sure that math was invented just to torment the young and innocent. Math and science were at the bottom tier of Victoria’s priorities. She came to Blackwell to sharpen her artistic abilities, not solve the equation to determine the exact circumference of a fucking test tube.

Yet through all the annoying math equations and the idiots that occupied space in her classes, she knew that next year was going to be her year. She’s waited for her senior year since she got her acceptance letter. Senior year meant being at the top of the Vortex Club hierarchy and, most importantly, finally being able to take Mark Jefferson’s photography class. She’s spent her whole life building a portfolio for him to review and the thought of him providing feedback on her work was enough to get her through whatever atrocities Blackwell continued to set in her path.

Blackwell never seemed to be short of these atrocities, with a prime example being what had just occurred at the steps outside Blackwell’s main building. After solving three equations in a row, Ms. Grant finally bestowed the pity to let Victoria leave. In a swift movement, Victoria scooped her textbooks and pens into her bag, took out her phone, and was out the door before Ms.Grant even had the chance to wave goodbye. She sighed and blinked her burning eyes as she swiped through her phone. She skimmed her group chat with Taylor and Courtney where they were arguing about which nail polish better complemented Courtney’s eyes, she swiped away notifications of likes and comments from her newest post on Nodface, and tapped on a missed call notification from Nathan. She swiped on his contact and it rang a few times before going straight to voicemail.

“You reached Nathan, but you already knew that. Leave a message and I’ll consider getting back to you.”

Victoria let the voicemail beep before speaking, “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call. I was stuck in math hell in Grant’s room. Call me back if you want to.”

She hung up just as she finally opened the doors to freedom. Her lungs welcomed the fresh air as she began to descend the steps to the quad. She pocketed her phone and through the chirping of birds, she heard a barrage of shouts and warnings. Before she even had time to process what was being shouted at her, she was struck in the face and tumbling down the set of stairs outside the main building. Before she knew it, she was face down on the concrete, the contents of her bag sprawled across the pavement. She heard the thud of heavy footsteps rushing to her side and she opened her eyes to see a football teetering back and forth in a taunt in front of her nose. The footsteps came to a halt beside her as she looked to see Logan and Zach staring down at her with horrified, dumbstruck expressions.

“Holy shit.” Zach finally said, “I’m so sorry, Victoria.”

Victoria blinked as she turned and propped herself up on her elbows. Pain seared on her brow and scratches littered her forearms. Logan held his hands up in surrender, “We tried shouting but I guess we were too late.”

Anger began to bubble up Victoria’s throat, “You guess?” she spat, “Look at what you fucking did to me!” Her body ached but she managed to sit up while the two jocks stared at her with wide eyes, “Well, are you both just gonna stand their like the fucking imbeciles you are or are you going to help me up?”

Through a series of panicked stutters, Logan offered his arm as Zach began to pick up all of her belongings and put them back in her bag. Once Victoria was standing stable, she yanked her bag back from Zach’s hands and dusted herself off.

“Do you want help back to the dorms?” Logan asked sheepishly.

“I’m fine.” Victoria hissed as she finished adjusting her shirt.

“But,” Zach interrupted, “You’re bleeding. It looks like it needs to be patch-”

“I said, I’m FINE.”

She shouldered her bag and turned towards the dorms, leaving Zach and Logan staring in a stunned silence. She began to be aware of the warm drip, of what could be presumed to be blood, sliding down the side of her face. Yet, through the adrenaline, she walked with her head held high down the path. She looked around and thanked whatever God was listening, that there was no one else around to witness her fall.

As she turned the corner towards the girls dorm, she heard a pair of familiar voices. Without slowing her hurried pace, Victoria flicked her eyes towards the source of the sound and found Rachel Amber and Steph Gingrich giggling and laughing on one of the benches.

Crap. Shit. Fuck.

She turned her head slightly as she made a beeline towards the dorm entrance to avoid any potential comments about her current state. As she passed by, she heard snippets of their conversation.

“Oh shut up,” she heard Steph say, “I have no place there.”

“Are you kidding? You’ll fit in! Especially if you stay with me,” Victoria rolled her eyes as she could hear the stupid smirk across Rachel’s lips as she spoke, “Plus, it’s our last year in this shithole. So why not get shitfaced with me at a Vortex party?”

“Hard pass,” Steph replied, “I’ve got plans already anyway.”

The rest of the conversation got drowned out by Victoria’s racing heart as she shoved her way through the dorm doors.

Fuck, there was a Vortex Club party tonight. It had completely slipped Victoria’s mind. How was she supposed to show up after she looks like she was thrown through a spin cycle?

She needed a mirror to assess the damage. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

She basically glided to the dorm bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief as she found herself alone. She walked over to the sinks and took a good look at herself, and fuck, not only did she look like shit, the adrenaline draining from her veins started to make her feel like shit too. She traced the trail of drying blood up her cheek, stopping at the gash above her eyebrow. Meanwhile, on the other side of her face were swollen scratch marks across her cheekbone. Her brand new cardigan was absolutely ruined with dirt and drops of blood.

The cherry on top was the lump forming at the back of her throat as tears began to well in her eyes.

Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together.

She blinked away any sign of tears as she ripped out a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under water. Just as she was about to begin cleaning away the blood trail, the door swung open, causing Victoria’s heart to drop down into the pit of her stomach.

She felt frozen in place, damp paper towel inches away from her face, as she stared at her own wide eyed expression in the mirror. The pit in her stomach grew deeper as a voice bounced across the walls of the bathroom.

“Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Victoria put her hand down and leaned forward, head looking down at the sink. She felt her eyebrow sting as it twitched. She tried to level her breathing as she heard delicate footsteps through the thundering beats of her heart.

The footsteps stopped a few paces beside her, “What’s wrong, Vic? No heartwarming hello? A bitchy comment perhaps?”

Victoria took a deep breath before looking up to find Rachel standing with her hip cocked and her arms crossed. Victoria glared daggers at her but nearly retracted as she watched Rachel’s face turn from scornful to worried.

“Holy shit, you look like hell.” Rachel said, her voice soft. She took a step forward as Victoria took one back, like a wounded animal caught in the headlights. Rachel noticed the hesitancy and gave her space, “What happened?”

Victoria considered Rachel’s change in demeanor for a moment. Just moments ago, she seemed tense and solid, lips pursed and ready for battle. Yet now, she seemed softer and genuinely worried, eyes focused and ready to listen. The ability to change with the flip of a switch was something that Victoria didn’t know she should fear or be envious of. She rolled back her shoulders and stood up straighter regardless of the dull pain radiating throughout her back.

“I had a run in with a couple of neanderthals playing with their stupid football.” Victoria lifted her nose to the air, hoping to seem above and unbothered by the situation and her bad timing.

Rachel tilted her head, clearly waiting for further explanation. Victoria didn’t owe her shit, yet somehow she was starting to feel the need for company. She questioned her sanity as she found a single ounce of her, slightly hoping that somehow Rachel wouldn’t mock her this time. Every other encounter they’ve had in the last three years was filled with poisoned comments and endless eye rolls and Victoria always felt capable of holding her own ground. This time felt different though, this was a different level of vulnerability that Victoria wasn’t used to. She was physically hurt and tired and stressed and she couldn’t tell if she was strong enough in this moment to withstand a passing negative comment directed towards her. She could never admit that though, not when she was under the watchful eye of a snake, ready to strike at any given moment.

The snake in question continued to stare at her though, eyes masquerading in genuine concern.

“A football did this to you?”

Victoria swallowed her pride. It felt like knives on the way down, “Well, a football was the catalyst for it. The stairs are what did the rest.” She realized she couldn’t get herself to make eye contact. Would she crumble at the judgment? Would the condescending laugh or passing joke be enough to break her? She didn’t want to find out. She regretted her explanation immediately and now she was waiting to be crushed under Rachel’s thumb. Victoria cursed herself for even feeling weak enough to be crushed.

Victoria braced for ridicule but her anxious thoughts were broken by Rachel gently taking hold of her wrist. Victoria nearly flinched out of her shoes but Rachel’s hand remained.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked, not pulling away.

“You need more than shitty dorm soap and water to clean this up.” Rachel replied, “Let’s go to my dorm. I have some supplies that could help.”

Before she could protest, Victoria was following Rachel to her room. As Rachel dug around in her pockets for her keys, Victoria looked up and down the hall frantically making sure no one was around to see her following Rachel into her room. She spent years proving to the entire campus that she was above Rachel’s status but at her current state, Victoria knew that her status would be dragged down to an uncomfortable level. With the addition of the gossip that would ultimately end up being flung around, she wanted to minimize the social damage as much as possible.

As Rachel finally fished out her keyring, Victoria’s eyes wandered to the whiteboard beside the door. Scribbled across it read “Beware! Slut lives here.” in what looked like Courtney’s handwriting. Victoria thought back to several days prior where she pitched the idea to deface Rachel’s whiteboard to Taylor and Courtney. She remembered being so proud of the idea and forgot that she asked Courtney to write the phrase on Rachel’s board while she was in class. Victoria suddenly got the pang of guilt at the thought of Rachel coming back to her dorm to read that. Despite having been displayed on the board for several days, Rachel unlocked the door beside it and entered her room, seemingly unbothered by it.

After one last look at the empty hallway, Victoria followed Rachel’s invitation to enter. She stepped through the threshold and Rachel gently closed the door behind them. Victoria managed to never step foot in Rachel’s dorm throughout her several years at Blackwell, and if someone were to have told her this morning that she would end up here under these circumstances, Victoria would’ve laughed.

The first thing that she noticed was the smell. It smelled sweet and earthy, almost like vanilla but with a slight undertone of weed. It was pleasant and disarming, almost exactly like Rachel herself. The rest of the room was both everything and nothing like Victoria would’ve imagined a room fit for Blackwell’s queen of drama to be. It had the usual suspects Victoria expected like theater masks hung on the walls and inspirational quotes on sticky notes tacked onto a cork board that was plastered with playbills and concert tickets. However, there were other lesser expected suspects like punk rock posters stapled beside half nude polaroids. Victoria squinted her eyes in an effort to see them better. One of the pictures she could only assume is Rachel, blue feather earring dancing from her ear. The other one was harder to make out, yet she could see a bit of blue hair peaking just under where the frame cuts off. Victoria grimaced at the sight of them yet she tried to ignore how hot her cheeks seemed to get.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of Rachel digging through her closet. Victoria didn’t know what to do with herself as she stood awkwardly in the center of the room, arms crossed with hands fiddling with the sides of her cardigan. It was a nervous habit that she had, yet she didn’t mind for it was subtle enough that no one noticed. She could face anyone at Blackwell and still hold her ground with confidence, however in this moment, she felt small treading on unknown territory. A part of her wanted to just walk right out the door while she could, but the pain radiating across her skin stopped her. She didn’t want to feel like she was in debt to anyone, not like she really knew what debt really felt like, but she swallowed her pride and held her ground anyway. After what felt like an eternity, Rachel finally found what she was looking for.

With a grunt, she hefted a storage box from out of the depths of her clothes. Written on the side of the box was “PROPERTY OF J. AMBER” in faded sharpie, however the rest of the box displayed newer marker streaks with graffiti of random quotes and anarchy doodles. Victoria’s eyes darted around from graffiti to graffiti as she felt a tinge of familiarity with the hand that made them. She couldn’t think much more about them as she looked up to see Rachel eyeing her wound closely. Normally Victoria craved and fought to be in the spotlight, yet she found herself backing away from the attention. After Rachel seemed to be done with her low grade medical assessment, she pushed the storage box closer to her bed before sitting down.

She looked up at Victoria expectantly and patted the space across from her as an invitation, “Come here. I think I have everything I need to patch you up.” Rachel smiled, “Doctor Amber’s medical office is open for business.”

Victoria obliged and sat down across from the self proclaimed doctor, “And what exact credentials do you really have, Doctor?” The words left her mouth with a cringe, “That was stupid.”

“Hey, now. Have a little faith!” Rachel reassured, “I’m an actress and model by day and a therapist and life saving doctor by night. I’m like Hannah Montana but with better fashion sense.”

Victoria fought the urge to roll her eyes. Rachel tilted her head as she began to lift her hand to the wound across Victoria’s brow, but stopped before she got too close. With her hand suspended in the air, her eyes moved down to meet Victoria’s, “I’m gonna start cleaning it up. Is it okay that I touch you?”

Victoria couldn’t remember the last time someone asked for the consent to place their hands on her and for some reason, it made her heart hurt. She nodded her head.

“Okay,” Rachel said as her eyes moved back up. Her fingers felt warm as she gently turned Victoria’s head to better see the damage. After a moment, she nodded to herself and opened up the storage box to reveal a myriad of medical supplies. Everything from bottles of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide to stacks of gauzes and multiple suture kits.

“I didn’t take you for an apocalypse prepper.” Victoria offered as she tried to release the tension in her shoulders.

“Never hurts to be prepared.” Rachel replied as she fished out the supplies she needed, “My dad’s kinda crazy about this kind of stuff. Took him years to let me live on campus and even then he insisted that I drag all this shit here. I don’t complain about it much anymore though. I’ve ate enough shit skateboarding with Justin and Trevor that I figured I could use an apocalypse sized med kit.”

Victoria knew how much Rachel was able to blend into every crowd imaginable, yet whenever she gathered more snippets of Rachel’s life, she always managed to surprise her every time. The thought of Rachel acting her ass off in drama club then going to skate with a group of stoners then immediately participating in a Vortex Club function was nothing short of impressive though Victoria would never outwardly admit it.

Rachel raised a damp gauze to the trail of blood that snaked down Victoria’s face. With each swipe across her skin, Victoria became more and more aware of the amount of scratches she had. How was she supposed to show her face to anyone? She didn’t have the energy to fight all the questions and dumb comments that were destined to make their way to her attention. She supposed that was the least of her problems. She had to get through this interaction first and she figured if she could fight this awkward tension, she could get through anything.

“So, were you already plotting Zach and Logan’s deaths?” Rachel said as she added another bloody gauze to the trash can beside her bed, “Or have you already found the strength to forgive them in your little grinch heart?”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed, “Those idiots wouldn’t be able to see a murder plot coming for them if it hit them in the face.”

“All the more reason to do it. I’m sure you and your minions could take ‘em.”

Victoria’s face already started feeling better as the caked-on blood had been cleaned away. “Please,” she scoffed, “Courtney and Taylor could never pull off a stunt like that. I’ve seen them squirm and gag at a paper cut, let alone an entire murder.”

“And you?” Rachel raised her brow, “I’ve never seen you get your hands dirty before. Doubt you could even hurt a fly if you tried.”

“I could say the same about you.” Victoria snapped back.

Rachel raised the gauze in her hand, soft pink hues spreading across it, “Your blood is literally on my hands, Vic. Try again.”

Victoria opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it, realizing she had nothing else left to say. Rachel poured more rubbing alcohol onto a piece of cloth and she took a deep breath, “Okay, this one is going to hurt. I need to clean the actual wound now.”

“Jesus Christ, just get it over with.” Victoria clenched her jaw and shut her eyes tight. Rachel placed a firm hand on her shoulder as she placed the alcohol soaked bandage to her wound. The strong urge to pull away tugged harder and harder at Victoria’s willpower but she was steadied by Rachel’s hold. She grew light headed as she realized she was holding her breath.

“Fuck!” Victoria breathed out harshly as Rachel gently blotted at the open cut.

“I know, I know.” Rachel’s voice was soft, “I’m sorry.”

And it really sounded like she meant it. Victoria winced as she slowly pried her eyes open. The initial sting started to subside and she lowered her shoulders back down to a normal level. Rachel continued to gently press into the wound, ensuring she got most of the grime out, “See, not so bad, right?”

“Let me pour alcohol on one of your wounds and see how you like it.” Victoria spat as she rubbed her own arm to feel some sort of comfort.

“Jokes on you because all my wounds are internal.” The blow of the words were softened by a smile across Rachel’s lips, “Talking helps though, you know? A distraction to all wounds. Both internal and physical.”

Victoria considered this for a moment and from the twitching of her eye, she definitely needed a distraction. She didn’t forget that she was in the lion’s den though. She didn’t know much about Rachel besides the rumors she hears through the halls and she didn’t really care to know much else. However, she felt like the least she could do was try, considering she was being saved a trip to the doctor and potential further embarrassment by the rest of the student body.

Small talk. She could do small talk. Small talk is supposed to be easy.

“So…” Victoria started, “How was your day?” Her words were dry. She hated pointless conversations unless it was used as a pawn to get something she needed. In this case, she supposed she needed the medical attention but the blow to her pride still hurt a bit more than the wound itself.

“Jeez, at least sound like you’re the least bit interested.” Rachel said, “But I appreciate the effort nonetheless.” She reached for a suture kit and more gauze, “It’s been good so far. Just finished hanging out with Steph and I did a search and rescue for a runaway bunny this morning. You should see it plastered across the news tomorrow.” Victoria couldn’t hide her judgment but Rachel didn’t seem to care as she dramatically lifted her hands in the air to frame an invisible headline, “Local beauty saves natural wildlife.”

“Full of yourself, much?” Victoria replied.

“Do you even know me at all?” Rachel retorted as she loaded another gauze with alcohol, much to Victoria’s dismay, “Just one more pass through with this and I can start stitching it up.”

Victoria huffed, “Fine.”

“Anyway, the only other thing I did today was go to the Two Whales where I had the best breakfast. You ever been?” As much as it felt like pulling teeth, Victoria respected Rachel’s efforts to continue to fill the silence as much as possible. She tried to focus on the conversation instead of the burning that filled her wound. She thought of the Two Whales, the dingy old diner across town. She’s definitely been there but couldn’t remember much about it. All she remembered were the above average omelettes and the dead eyed looks of the truckers that passed through. There always seemed to be a set of familiar patrons that frequented that place; she forgot that Rachel was one of them.

“Yeah, I have been there. It’s been a while though.” she replied, “You go there to see Kari?”

“It’s Chloe.” Rachel corrected.

“That’s what I said.” Victoria readjusted her posture.

Rachel pressed harder into her wound with the gauze and Victoria shrunk back down.

“OW, fuck! Watch it.” she seethed.

“Oops, sorry.” Rachel smiled. It was the type of smile that Victoria was used to seeing from her, “You were saying?”

Victoria took a deep breath and collected her composure. She thought back to the polaroids on the wall she saw earlier as her eyes shifted downward to the familiar graffiti on the storage bin. Then it clicked in her mind. Ever since she was expelled, Chloe Price didn’t seem more than a ghost that sometimes haunted the halls in the dark hours of the night. Coming in and out of the very room she was sitting in now. Her beat-up truck acting as a beacon to her elusive presence. She seemed just a mere extension of Rachel at this point, a phantom limb that only Rachel seemed to feel and care deeply about.

“So, you and Kar- Chloe…” Victoria corrected. She looked at Rachel whose delicate hands threaded the needle precariously above her line of sight, “Didn’t know you two spent that much time together.”

“Then you’re not really paying attention.” Rachel said. Victoria was lying, of course. She couldn’t let Rachel know that she actually notices how much Rachel lights up whenever she’s around Chloe. Almost like she was a different person entirely, and Victoria couldn’t help but question which Rachel Amber was the real one. She felt like she saw a billion different variations of her in a day, it was too tiring to keep up with. She wondered if Rachel was tired of upholding them.

Victoria squeezed her eyes shut as she breathed through the occasional prick of the needle. She tried to pry her eyes open and she found Rachel’s eyes flit back and forth from her wound to her hands anxiously gripping the blanket beneath them. Victoria couldn’t believe a stupid football landed her in the mercy of Rachel’s steady hands. She felt like she was some sort of fucked up embroidery project.

“So, do you have any plans this summer? I mean, I know it’s only March but never too soon to start thinking of vacations, right?” Rachel offered as she focused on her next stitch.

Victoria’s white knuckles began to get their color back as she slowly released her grip on the blanket, “No plans really. My summers always tend to be the same. Go to work at my parent’s gallery in Seattle for bullshit pay.”

“Your parents literally own The Chase Space and they make you work there in the summer?”

“Well, they expect me to take it over when I’m older.” Victoria explained, “They always say ‘what better way to learn the business than by actually working it’ which is fine and all but sometimes I just want to have a normal summer filled with like… I don’t know. Eating ice cream on beaches and getting shitfaced with my friends.”

“Isn’t that basically what you do now?” Rachel smiled with a quirked eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah. But it’s different in the summer. I don’t have to worry about my grades or stupid math tests.” replied Victoria, “I think I just want to… relax.”

The last word fell off her tongue as she squirmed feeling her skin pull back together on her forehead. Rachel hummed in response but didn’t offer much else after that besides a “I’m almost done. Just try your best to not move much.”

“Easier said than fucking done.” Victoria grimaced through another stitch. She thought for a moment before opening her eyes again. She tried her best to keep her stare away from Rachel’s face but it was hard considering how close they were. Her attempts didn’t falter though as she pried her gaze away from the other girl’s face and to the star tattooed on her wrist that moved in and out of her field of view. Tattoos were never Victoria’s style. She thought it took a specific type of person to make tattoos look good instead of tacky, which is how she felt about most of the ones she saw. She watched the star dance over her head as a suture followed closely behind.

“A star, huh?” Victoria commented, “Seems a bit too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Rachel’s eyes were trained on the needle between her fingers, “Too on the nose, huh? So, you admit it. You do think I’m a star.”

Rachel gave that stupid smug smile which led to Victoria losing her battle of not rolling her eyes. She opened her mouth to retaliate but was cut short.

“It was my first tattoo.” Rachel continued, “I got it right when I turned 18. I was so fucking stoked for it, I didn’t sleep the night before. I nearly fell asleep while they were doing it.” She threaded the needle again, “And it could be perceived as too on the nose for someone like me, but no one ever really bothers to ask about what it really means.”

“And what is that then?”

“Hm?” Rachel’s tongue peaked out between her lips in intense focus.

“What does it really mean, superstar?” Victoria asked again.

Rachel considered the question for a moment, almost as if she didn't expect it. She turned around and began digging around the storage box again before answering, “I’ve been obsessed with the stars since I was a kid. Constellations and space travel and all that shit.” She moved several boxes of bandages around and didn’t seem to find what she was looking for, “I just liked the idea of them being there, hung up in the sky for all of us to marvel at, you know? No matter where you are in the world, the stars will always be there to follow you… look after you. There’s been so many times where I’ve felt completely alone. Not the good kind of alone either. The type of alone that swallows you up and hollows you out. There’s been a lot of nights where it felt like the stars were all I had. They always found a way to show up in the darkness and I kind of learned that… I don’t know… that I should start showing up for myself whenever I feel stuck in the dark.”

Rachel opened up a small compartment and a pair of small scissors fell out, “Oh, there you are,” she said as she picked them up, “Anyway, that’s the reason. Call it stupid and cliche but it’s mine and not everyone has to understand it.”

Victoria caught herself staring again but she couldn’t help it this time. Something resonated deep within her and her eyes dropped down in thought. If someone as popular as Rachel was able to feel the dark creep in from time to time, it meant that no one was invincible. Victoria always wanted to believe that she was. She wanted to believe that if she worked hard enough, she would be untouchable. Worked hard to be successful, worked hard to be adored, worked hard to be respected. She used to think letting the darkness seep through the cracks made her weak, but maybe that wasn’t the case after all.

“So, how do you deal with it?” Victoria hated how small she sounded but curiosity was too much to bear, “The darkness.”

Rachel raised the scissors to the fresh stitches and began snipping away the excess thread, “I’m still pretty bad at it, if I’m being honest. And I’m not bad at a lot of things.” The corners of her mouth quirked and Victoria almost regretted asking. Rachel continued anyway, “But I am getting better at it. I used to think that drowning myself in anything I could get my hands on was the way to go, but over time I think it only made it worse. I’ve learned that you just have to sit with yourself sometimes. Let yourself feel it, sit in it, and recenter your focus. Sounds really kumbaya when I say it out loud, but it works… for me at least.” She shrugged her shoulders, “After you get yourself back on the ground, you assess where you are and where you’re trying to go. Then you just… navigate through the dark. No one ever really knows what they’re doing, but you just have to try. Trial and error until you find your way.”

Rachel made the final cut and put the scissors down. She looked Victoria in the eye for the first time since they got into the room and Victoria almost cowered away again as she blinked away a tear that had formed in her eye. She hoped to God himself that Rachel didn’t notice. She waited for a spit of venom, for a comment that targeted her moment of weakness, but it didn’t come. Instead, Rachel just stared at her with a knowing look. With a look that said I understand and I’m sorry.

Victoria swallowed the lump in her throat, “Do you think everyone does? You know… find their way eventually?”

Rachel broke eye contact and looked down at the star tattooed on her wrist. She looked back up and held her gaze for a moment, “I do,” she said, “I really do, Vic.”

A silence fell between them both yet it was a silence that felt meaningful. Like two opposing forces have come to a truce.

Victoria raised her hand and touched the freshly stitched wound. Most of the pain had subsided and her pride had almost recovered, “Thank you.” she said, “For you know… fixing me up.”

Rachel beamed as she admired her handiwork, “Thank you for trusting me for once.”

Victoria sighed as her shoulders slumped back down, “Fuck. I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to cover this up before the party tonight. I can already feel everyone’s eyes on me and not in a good way.”

“Well, lucky for you. Rachel Amber is not only an actress, model, therapist, and life saving doctor, but she’s also a brilliant make up artist. Specializing in both special effects makeup and normal run of the mill beauty makeup.” Rachel threw her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes, clearly loving her melodrama, “I can probably cover up most of it if you want me to.”

Victoria thought for a moment, “Ugh, fine. I’ve already accepted my limit of charity today but this one seems the most dire especially for a Vortex Club party. Let me go get my makeup bag out of my room.” She stood up and turned around, “Not that I don’t trust whatever makeup you own… I just know that mine is better.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Rachel smiled and waved Victoria away, “I’ll just wait in here, cleaning up YOUR blood off MY sheets.”

“You should be honored.”

With that, Victoria opened the door and stepped out making sure that the hall still remained empty. The door clicked shut behind her and just as she was about to make a beeline to her room, she stopped. She turned to face the whiteboard that hung beside Rachel’s door. She eyed the demeaning words and considered them for a moment, her head tilted to one side.

With a swipe of her hand, she erased everything on it.

Chapter Text

For better or worse, teenage years acted as beacons of change. Each beacon was meant to be filled with first loves and heartbreaks, mistakes and learning curves, sweet secrets and bitter truths. It was a time where new experiences were meant to be had, where individual identities were to be discovered, and where lives of the unshaken youth were meant to actually begin. Starting at a new school meant a clean slate, pure and untouched by the poison and ghosts that threatened to follow. However, things tended to work differently here. Clean slates were nothing but mere mirages of new beginnings, secrets were harsh and truths were worse, ghosts were demons that hid in the dark circles under judgemental eyes. Teenage years were wasted in the shadows of this sleepy, dying town. This was Arcadia Bay and things worked differently here.

Things worked especially differently when you were a Prescott.

The name Prescott was burned into the land of Arcadia Bay. Being a Prescott meant having wealth, success, and respect. Everything that someone needed to climb to the top of any hierarchy and remain a permanent fixture there, watching everyone below claw and fight for their chance to make it. The name Prescott held a weight to it. It was a weight that didn’t hesitate to crush the weak spirited beneath it. Bearing the name tilted every possible scale in their favor. It was a name that meant power was a birthright, not a choice to be made.

So, starting a new school should be easy for someone who carries the Prescott family name which is why it came as a surprise when Nathan found himself sweating bullets as he walked across the school parking lot. Heat filled his cheeks and his stomach was twisted in a vortex of knots, threatening to unravel at the most inopportune time. He gave one last look over his shoulder at the family chauffeur, who was watching him diligently as he began to lift his foot off the brake. A harsh puff of air escaped Nathan’s nose as he whipped his head forward, ignoring the sound of a fading car engine exiting the parking lot. As he recentered his focus ahead of him, he took note of the lawn signs scattered every few feet, guiding him to where he needed to go.

FRESHMAN ORIENTATION THIS WAY the signs read in blocky white letters. Nathan tried to swallow the lump in his throat but his mouth felt so dry that he nearly choked at the attempt. His phone vibrated in his hand and he tapped through his messages. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach upon seeing who they were from. His eyes lingered at the three letter contact that he hated seeing. Dad.

The texts followed each other in quick succession.

Make sure to remind Ray of the Prescott Family’s generous contribution to Blackwell’s funding this year.

Ensure your summer credit has been included in your GPA. I paid good money to get those credits added into your transcript.

Do not disappoint me and do not embarrass me, Nathaniel.

Nathan winced as he silenced his phone and pocketed it, trying to keep his focus on the pavement. He turned the corner and saw splotches of students and teachers scattered across the lawn in front of the gymnasium. Some students were comparing classes with their peers while others chatted up their teachers for the semester. However, there was one teacher in particular that caught Nathan’s eye. Although he was encased in a small crowd of students, Nathan recognized him almost immediately. His face was plastered across almost every photography magazine and his name was a permanent fixture in art galleries across the United States. He was a famous photographer, something Nathan envisioned for himself when he got older, much to his father’s constant disappointment. Photography was the one thing that Nathan had to himself, untouched by his family’s wretched hands, and Mark Jefferson was the man who knew the craft the best. Being one of Nathan’s idols; he referenced his work almost religiously. From his composition to his framing, Nathan wanted to learn the art of photography through his eyes. To a young photographer, Mark Jefferson’s skillset was the blueprint of perfection and perfection was something that Nathan was trained to achieve.

Through the crowd of eager artists that were babbling about their hopes and dreams, Nathan looked up to find the world renowned photographer eyeing him. His mouth was moving, speaking something inaudible to the girl next to him who looked as starstruck as all the other wannabe dreamers, yet his eyes were scanning Nathan with something that he couldn’t quite place. Nathan looked like a deer in the headlights as he continued walking, his feet feeling heavier with every step that he took. Prescotts weren’t meant to have insecurities. Every action and every choice that a Prescott made was meant to be purposeful and deliberate, benefiting the individual over the many. Nathan knew his choice of craft wasn’t a traditional one by Prescott family means, but he knew that he could be the best. Mark Jefferson could help him achieve that.

His anxious reverie was interrupted when he tripped on a crack in the pavement. He cursed himself for it as he quickened his pace, trying to make it to the gym before he had the opportunity to embarrass himself further. He was stopped in his tracks when his line of sight became blocked by a tacky tie and a freshly pressed blazer. Nathan blinked and looked up to see Principal Wells staring down at him with a poor attempt of a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Prescott,” he started, extending his hand out, “On behalf of Blackwell Academy, welcome.”

Although Nathan’s insides felt like they were going to explode in a fit of anxiety at any given moment, he flipped a switch in his head and ensured his demeanor didn’t match his emotions, something he learned to do while dealing with his family at home. It was a survival setting that he fine tuned to work whenever he needed it to. It was all he had when he was alone, scolded and shamed into a corner. Nathan’s eyes flitted down to the extended hand then back up, his face bored and annoyed, causing the principal to retract his hand.

“Hey.” Nathan replied, his voice dull and uninterested.

“I’m Raymond Wells, your principal here at Blackwell.” he leaned in closer to Nathan, whose nose scrunched up as the smell of old cologne assaulted his nostrils, “But between you and me, you can call me Ray.”

Get the fuck out of my way is what threatened to leave Nathan’s mouth with a venom so deadly that he was sure that the school would have a new principal by tomorrow. Even though it took a stretched out moment of silence, Nathan found it within himself to water down the sentiment to something less harsh.

“Sounds great,” he seethed.

“I hope you’re finding your way around our beautiful campus.” Ray continued, “I’m sure that you will find your class list in perfect order as well.”

Nathan thought back to his phone in his pocket and the weight of responsibility that was held within it. He tilted his head and looked the principal in the eye, “I would hope I do considering everything my family contributed to this shithole.” The bitter words left his mouth and seemed to hit Ray straight in the cologne soaked ego.

He was clearly taken aback but he quickly recovered, “Blackwell is extremely thankful for the Prescott family’s generous donation to our art programs. Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your transition onto our campus easier.” There was a hollar across the quad and they looked over to find a security guard waving the principal over. He cleared his throat as he looked back at Nathan, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Nathan gave a half hearted wave as Ray turned and began to walk down the pavement, his bundle of keys jingling loudly from his hip. Nathan looked back to where Mark once stood but found that the crowd had dispersed and that he was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was for the best, but Nathan couldn’t help but find himself a little disappointed. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the gymnasium. The serenity of the chirping birds and rustling of leaves in the breeze were quickly replaced with the loud echoes of students scrambling to find the right line to stand in. It was overwhelming to see so many students gathered in one place, all trying to get their class schedules and dorm numbers in order. The door clicked behind him and he tried his best to fight the urge to turn around and exit the way he had just come.

The sea of students buzzed around him as the ringing in his ears grew louder and louder. His feet felt stuck in place and his jaw began to ache from being clenched so tightly. He never did well in crowds, they were always too loud and everyone always found ways to bump into each other regardless of his attempts to take up as little space as possible. He wished that he was able to take up space, he wanted to tower over those who dared get in his way, he wanted to feel the power he knew he was entitled to. Sometimes a burst of confidence would overtake his petty anxieties and he would demand the respect he knew he deserved. However, during those times, he saw his dad reflected in his tendencies and it made him sick. It scared him to his core, though he would never admit it. Was he always destined to become his father? Was that the only way to get everything he wanted?

His spiral was interrupted by a small frame bumping into his shoulder.

“Watch it!” his mouth automatically spat. He looked to see the scared eyes of a mousy girl staring back at him, papers wrinkling in her hands.

“I’m sorry!” her timid voice barely audible through the chorus of voices around them. They stood there for a moment, before Nathan broke eye contact and began scanning the various lines that snaked around the polished wood floors. The girl watched Nathan’s wandering eyes and she cleared her throat, “Do you… do you need help?”

Nathan eyed her from his peripherals, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you a freshman too?”

Nathan gave a slight nod as he continued to refuse to look in her direction. The girl’s eyebrows raised up, “Oh! Me too!” she ducked her head as if to scold herself for raising her voice slightly, “Um, the freshman line is that one over there.” She pointed to one of the shorter lines on the other side of the gym.

“Oh, thanks.” Nathan said, his ears beginning to glow red.

“No problem.” her voice seemed to get higher with every word she spoke, “Maybe I’ll see you around campus. I’m Samantha.”

“Nathan and yeah, maybe.”

Samantha nodded and gave a small wave goodbye as she left through the doors, a breeze pushing past her. Nathan took a deep breath and began trekking across the gym, trying his best to avoid getting pushed and shoved by eager students and stupid jocks. When he finally found his place at the end of the line, he let his shoulders slump low as he waited his turn. Every now and again a student would come a little too close to him and he would try his best not to seem bothered. He watched as students gushed about getting their dream class schedule and watched as people eyed their dorm neighbors. The wafts of body odor mixed with cheap body spray made Nathan dizzy as he spent most of his time in line with his arms crossed, trying his best to not make eye contact with anyone. When he got to the front of the line, one of the campus’s science teachers tried her best to make small talk with him as they waited for one of the tables to free up for him to get his class schedule and dorm keys. Nathan pretended to listen to her ramble on about quantum physics and some other bullshit he didn’t care to know about. After what felt like an exceedingly long one sided conversation about black holes, she motioned to a free table that was lined along the wall where a student volunteer was waiting for him.

He wanted to grab his class schedule and his dorm keys and hightail it out of there. This whole experience had lasted longer than he anticipated and he wanted nothing more than to go back home and finish packing his room. He didn’t know how much he needed to leave his family estate until he was promised a dorm on campus. His parents never understood why he would leave the immense space that he had at the estate for a dorm room that was barely half the size of his bathroom at home. Something that his parents never understood was the concept of space. They never understood how the only purpose of the long, empty hallways that curved around their home was to carry the echoes of their fights. They never understood how all the space that they purchased with their old money felt empty and hollow. He was finally able to be away from the suffocating force that pinned him down and the only thing left standing in his way before he could start his time at Blackwell was getting through this last interaction.

He stepped up to the table, shaking hands shoved into his pockets. Seated across the plastic folding table was a girl that looked around his age, her hair golden and falling down one of her shoulders while a blue feather earring dangled over the other. Her hands were folded across the table as she smiled up at him, which was probably the most welcoming smile he’s received since stepping foot on campus. It seemed genuine, comfortingly authentic.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice just as warm as her smile, “Last name?”

Nathan swallowed as he met her eyes for the first time, “Prescott.”

She paused, her eyes narrow and lips pursed out in a pout. Nathan could practically hear the gears turning in her head but he wasn’t sure what she was thinking about. With the Prescott name being so interwoven in Arcadia Bay’s history, he knew a target would be ingrained on his back wherever he went. He just didn’t think someone would be aiming for the bullseye this soon. He liked to believe that he was prepared for the constant stares and the empty threats of picking on the rich kid. However, he couldn’t help but be a bit intimidated by the unreadable stare that he was being placed under now. The silence lasted a second too long and he couldn’t bear it.

“What?” he finally said, not meaning for it to sound as harsh as it did.

“That name sounds familiar.”

Nathan scoffed, “My family owns this shitpile of a town so I’m sure you’ve heard the name more than once.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, “Humble brag, much? That pick up line must make a killing at all the parties.”

Nathan felt like retreating into himself but he fought it, forcing his spine to stand tall no matter how much his body was rejecting it. He could feel her eyes scanning his face, like she could see right through him and his charade. He broke eye contact first and she sat up in her seat.

“I’m just fucking with you.” she said with a low laugh, “You’re that Nathan kid. My dad’s worked with your dad on some business projects, I think.”

“And you are?”

“Amber. Rachel Amber.” She extended her hand and he accepted it with a firm handshake, “My family moved here last year. My dad’s the district attorney. I’m sure you’ve seen all the ‘Vote for James Amber for DA’ lawn signs that scattered every lawn last year, designed by yours truly.”

She waggled her brows and Nathan almost allowed himself to smile at that, “Yeah, I think I remember seeing a few of them around. You want to be an artist?” He felt his cheeks grow red. He hated small talk yet the words left his mouth with ease.

Rachel tilted her head in thought, “Yes, but in a different way. I want to be a model.” She gave a dramatic pose that succeeded in eliciting a short laugh from Nathan, “And an actress. I used to live in the perfect place for those dreams but I had to move to this hicktown for my dad’s work, no offense.”

“None taken. I hate this place too.”

Rachel smiled and gave him a slow nod, “Well, there’s something we have in common then.”

She paused before she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, “Oh! Let me get you your schedule and keys.” She turned around in her seat and began rummaging through a makeshift filing cabinet in a storage bin. She flipped through several folders before pulling out one labeled N. PRESCOTT. Nathan reached out to take it but Rachel took it upon herself to begin flipping through it.

She scanned his class schedule and made noises accordingly on how well his classes stacked up. Nathan watched her acting like she had all the right in the world to know.

“Your schedule is pretty similar to mine when I was a freshman last year.” Her eyes lit up once she reached the bottom of the schedule, “It looks like we have theater together this year! I heard the play at the end of the school year is going to be The Tempest. I know you’re fresh meat around here, but you should audition with me! It’ll be fun.”

Her forwardness took Nathan aback for a moment as he blinked at her. He couldn’t remember the last time someone around his age treated him so normally. It felt nice and he started to wonder if making friends here wasn’t going to be as hard as he thought. Rachel slid over the folder and keys and Nathan picked them up, relieved that he finally got what he came for.

“Maybe.” Nathan replied, “It was nice to meet you.”

Rachel gave a friendly wave, “See you soon, Prescott.”

The orange glow of the sunrise filtered through the trees, hitting Nathan’s face with a warm welcome. Although the morning sun greeted him kindly, a war was taking place in every section of his body. A monstrous hangover was in full effect and his head pounded along to a hypnotic beat of night’s past. After successfully swallowing the bile that threatened to escape his insides, his senses began to slowly return one by one. First was his sense of touch, suddenly becoming aware of the hard surface beneath him; splinters teased his skin as the muscles in his back ached. He winced at the dryness of his mouth. The rancid vapors of every alcohol imaginable swirled outward with each breath he took. The ringing in his ears had subsided enough to allow him to hear. He didn’t hear much besides the chatter of squirrels in a tree nearby or the occasional hum of a car engine driving down the street. He began to register that he was outside, with his sense of smell coming back next. The morning air was crisp, feeling like frost on the walls of his lungs. Yet through the breeze, he smelled something warmer. Cigarette smoke wafted with the passing flow of air, and Nathan realized that wherever he was, he wasn’t alone. His sight was the last to come back to him. His eyelids felt like cement blocks, threatening to scrape against his eyes if he tried to pry them open. He tried anyway and, as expected, immediately regretted it. The sun that once felt good across his cheeks, became his worst enemy. Everything was too bright, and the muscles in his face strained in an attempt to squint away the discomfort. Eventually, he won the battle against the blinding light and opened his eyes enough to see. Above him was a familiar wooden awning that he assumed matched the splintering wooden porch beneath him.

Before he got the chance to process how he ended up here, the sound of footsteps walking on the creaking floorboards interrupted his hazy attempt at recovering memories of the night prior. He turned his head and was met with the judgemental stare of a dragon snaking up a perfectly tanned leg. His eyes wandered up higher and found Rachel staring down at him, a crooked smile crept across her face as a cigarette hung loosely between her lips.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.”

Nathan meant to retaliate with sarcasm, however the only thing that managed to leave his mouth was a grunt. Rachel giggled anyway as she took a seat beside him. It took everything he had to sit up alongside her, and thankfully he managed to push through his spinning head without losing all the contents in his stomach. He found footing on the steps at the edge of the deck and he sat with his head hung over his knees. He felt a gentle hand on his back, rubbing a lazy comforting circle. He lifted his head and found Rachel looking out towards the yard, the embers of her cigarette falling onto the stairs.

He looked out with her, eyes wandering across the aftermath of last night. The backyard was a wreck. Toilet paper was strewn across the trees, crushed beer cans littered the ground, the hollowed out corpse of a beer keg was left beside a dead firepit to rot, the sticky remnants of a beer pong table lay on its side beside the chipping fence. Nathan squinted and saw two bodies tangled together in a makeshift tent held together by string lights and a blanket that closely resembled swiss cheese. At the base of the inhabitant’s feet was a dirty bong, standing tall in the morning light.

Rachel must’ve caught the confusion in his face as her voice cut through the silence, “Justin and Trevor. They’re not dead, I checked,” she said. “I thought Hayden was dead, but he was snoring next to Courtney upstairs when I walked through.”

Hazy snippets of the night prior began to flood Nathan’s mind. He remembered the shitty dance music blasting on the stereo system, followed by two consecutive shots of clear alcohol followed by four more. He remembered getting flipped upside down for the longest keg stand of his life, followed by the burn of his lungs after he took a joint from Logan. He remembers the taste of a greasy slice of pizza that Dana had shared with him and the vomit episode that occurred after. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a Vortex Club party.

His night must’ve ended here at the back porch where he remembers people trying their best to step around him, the world swirling into a blob of colorful disco lights, the accidental heavy footstep on his extended hand, followed by the splash of spilled beer on his face. Now, it was morning and his only company was the demons crawling around his brain and Rachel sitting idly beside him. He looked over at her again, realizing she looked nearly perfect. Not a single hair out of place, make-up sharp and tasteful, clothes clean and pristine.

“I feel like shit.” Nathan croaked, his voice sounding as terrible as he felt.

“You look like shit.” Rachel smiled without missing a beat, “You must’ve got more fucked than I thought.”

“Fuck.” Nathan said, suddenly remembering a promise he had made, “I was supposed to be V’s ride back to campus. She’s probably gonna chew me the fuck out later.”

“Victoria?” Rachel said, offering the last of her cigarette to him, “She drove back with Taylor. If anything, she’s gonna chew you the fuck out for hurling all over her shoes.”

Nathan groaned and accepted the smoke from her. He slapped his palm to his forehead, “Fuck, I forgot that happened.”

“Maybe she did too. She was pretty gone when I last saw her. If it makes you feel any better, you must have thrown up straight acid or something because her heel snapped right in half as she stumbled into Taylor’s car so her shoes were fucked anyway.” Rachel extended her legs out in front of her and leaned back onto her hands, “You sophomores don’t fuck around at these things. I don’t even remember getting that blasted last year when I was in your grade.”

Nathan blew out a puff of smoke and began coughing immediately after, his cheeks reddening, “Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty. One grade above us doesn’t make you any better.”

Rachel laughed, “Jesus, you are so grumpy in the morning.”

“Fuck off.” Nathan mumbled, stubbing out the last of the cigarette, “Your night must have been a bust. You look like you walked straight out of church.”

Rachel looked down at her crop top and shorts. “I don’t know what kind of church you go to but sign me up,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “But my night was fine, thank you very much. I got just the right amount of fucked up. I ate some pizza, got crossed with Justin and Trev, and left home with Chloe just after midnight.”

Nathan remembered a streak of blue hair pushing him out of the way as he stumbled down the stairs. Stupid bitch.

“Why are you here then if you went home?” he asked, trying to stretch out the knots in his neck.

“I left my phone in Trevor’s room when I was helping Courtney lay Dana down for the night.” she waved her phone in the air before pocketing it again, “Chloe is waiting for me in the driveway.”

Nathan suddenly remembered his own phone and was thankful to find it in his jacket pocket. What he wasn’t thankful for was the annoying amount of text messages that awaited him in his notifications. Some were drunk texts from Victoria, demanding he owed her for her shoes. Others were texts from Hayden asking where he was before he arrived at the party. However, most of them were texts from his parents, all becoming increasingly threatening about how he needed to get his act together because he was embarrassing the family with all of his partying and lack of extracurriculars. After The Tempest fiasco last year, his dad had only become more and more strict about what he chose to do aside from schoolwork. While Nathan’s freshman year was about adjusting to a new lifestyle on campus, his sophomore year thus far had consisted mostly of partying and making a name for himself in the Vortex Club. He figured he couldn’t be bothered being a family disappointment if he was nose deep in various vices. All the pressures and responsibilities his parents put upon him would still be there when he was ready, whether he liked it or not.

As he swiped away each notification, the nagging in his head grew louder and with the continuous pounding of his headache, it was becoming nearly unbearable. He could practically hear his dad’s tone of voice with every text that crossed his sight.

“Fucking stupid.” he whispered to himself, “Such a fucking dumb piece of shit.”

He didn’t know if he was talking about his dad or himself. He swiped away another notification as the ache in his brain grew.

Ungrateful bastard.

Why were there so many fucking texts?

A damn disappointment.

The ringing in his ears had come back, drowning out any noise that tried to break through.

A failure.

His vision began to tunnel.

An undeserving disgrace.

Text after text, his father’s voice became louder and louder, reverberating across his body like a riptide ready to drown him.

Never fucking enough.

He found his own knuckles making contact with the side of his head.

What’s wrong with you?

Another notification. Another knuckle dug into his temple.

The demons were scratching against his skull and he felt his limbs going numb. His lungs felt like they were shrinking with every desperate breath he took. He felt his eyes going damp. He felt like he couldn’t see. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he couldn’t bear to exist.

And then there was warmth on his knees. He didn’t realize he was squeezing his eyes shut until he opened them and found Rachel kneeling in front of him, worry painted across her face. At first, Nathan saw her mouth move but couldn’t hear what she was saying. He watched her lift up one of her hands and began to motion for him to breathe. He tried his best to follow her hand. She lifted it up with an inhale and lowered it with an exhale. The next few moments of time stopped as they breathed together. They stayed like that until the ringing stopped, until the tunnel opened back up and he was able to see Justin and Trevor sound asleep in his peripheral. The feeling in his limbs returned just in time to wipe the tears that had fallen down his face.

He blinked away any other tears that threatened to fall before he looked back up at the hazel eyes that watched him diligently. Rachel let go of her hold on his knee and sat in front of him, her hands crossed in her lap.

“Nathan?” she said, her voice quiet and gentle as if she would scare him away if she spoke any louder. He couldn’t bear being seen like this. Like he was something small and fragile, that was ready to break at any given moment. He was a fucking Prescott and he needed to pull it together.

Nathan’s eyes jumped between hers, trying to think of something to say that would make her stop looking at him like that. With the look of pity that he despised. Prescott’s didn’t need pity, they were the ones who pitied others. Prescott’s weren’t supposed to be helpless. They weren’t supposed to be broken. They were supposed to be sure and put together. But he couldn’t find any words to say. He felt defeated, all because of some stupid texts from his fucking parents. How pathetic.

Once he finally found his voice, all he was able to say was, “I’m sorry.”

Those words were a foreign concept to his family. He always found himself to be the one saying it, while everyone else that shared his blood scoffed at it like it was no better than a piece of trash on the ground. Rachel took it with gentle hands though, held it and accepted it with grace.

“It’s okay,” she said, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” his voice was shaking, “How did you know how to-”

“Between Chloe and I, we have had our fair share of moments like this.” She explained, “Different things work for different people.”

Nathan looked away, still feeling shame on his cheeks. Rachel continued anyway, “I know, it’s hard to believe. Someone as dazzling and perfect as me still has her low moments,” she batted her eyelashes. If there’s anything that he’s learned in the short year that he’s known Rachel is that she loves her melodrama, “But they happen more often than you would think. For me, it helps when I trace the star on my wrist. Sometimes when it’s especially bad, Chloe sits with me and does it for me. It helps me slow down and find my footing again.”

Nathan has never heard someone say Chloe Price’s name with more love than when Rachel said it. He wondered what it was like to have a love like that, for someone to say his name and mean it with love. He looked at her star tattoo, just a few months old, black ink still dark and sharp. Rachel’s eyes fell down to her hands and she started to fidget with the chipping nail polish on her fingers, “For Chloe, breathing together helps her find her ground. I’m happy it worked for you too.”

Nathan would hate to admit that he has anything in common with a lowlife like Chloe, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to know that he wasn’t alone in moments like this. These moments have been happening more often, and Nathan never understood how to stop them. He usually rode them out alone, in the darkness and privacy of his room. He was feeling more and more alone lately. Maybe Chloe actually had something that he didn’t, someone who loved him and cared about him enough to never leave him scared and alone.

“Oh, yeah. Price…” He swallowed, trying to level his breath, “She’s- she’s probably waiting for you.”

Rachel tilted her head at him, eyes still filled with worry, “She could wait.”

Silence fell between them as Nathan tried to get a hold of himself. Rachel made sure he was breathing steadily before she let her eyes wander elsewhere. She looked up at the sky, clearly admiring the clouds that lazily passed overhead. Hayden’s snores floated out of the open bedroom window on the second floor above them. The string lights tapped against the fence as Justin moved under the dead weight of Trevor’s arm. After getting his senses back for the second time this morning, Nathan let out a long breath. His body hurt. His eyes stung. He was tired in more ways than one.

“Thanks.” he said after several minutes had passed, “For whatever the fuck you just did for me.”

Rachel picked her head up from leaning it back and looked back at him, “No problem. We assholes have to look after each other, you know.”

“Even the assholes you hate?”

“Yes, Nate. Even Victoria, who you should text back by the way.” She laughed, and after a moment she spoke again. Her voice lowered back down, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Nathan didn’t know that there was anything to talk about. He spent so much time convincing himself that he just needed a moment to get his shit together. A moment turned into a day that turned into weeks, into months. Then months turned into alcohol and alcohol turned into weed that turned into more. What was there to possibly talk about? All he needed was time and everything was going to be fine. But Rachel was sitting in front of him, looking straight through his facade like he was as transparent as the ghosts that haunted him.

He swallowed his pride and tried, “It’s nothing. Just some bullshit from my dad. Nothing new.”

Rachel hummed in response, “Daddy issues, huh? Something we have in common.”

“I thought you loved your dad.”

“I did.” She said, “A lifetime of lies changes that though.”

Nathan looked up and found Rachel looking off to the side, her eyes hard and filled with a bitterness he didn’t know she was capable of. He would’ve pressed further, but something warned him not to. Instead he offered, “That fucking blows.” Not quite as eloquent as he hoped, but he blamed it on the hangover.

“It’s whatever, to be honest.” Rachel responded, “Working through it. How about you? Scrooge McFuck been giving you a hard time lately?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Nathan said, rubbing his eyes, “He’s just been on my ass about everything I do. Like I’m fucking up the family name or whatever the fuck he always says.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “Upkeeping appearances in the name of posterity.”

“Something like that.”

“It’s bullshit.” They both said in unison. They eyed each other, trading knowing looks of resentment towards their fathers. Something inside Nathan felt a little better though. Like this whole conversation was a bandage that covered a wound that he didn’t know was bleeding him out. He’s never talked about his family problems to anyone. He was always worried that it would be used against him. He was taught to be wary of showing emotion, especially the ones that could be misconstrued as weaknesses. Rachel seemed to understand though. They branched off of similar trees, it seemed like. If Rachel was able to grow into her own person, apart from her family name, maybe there was hope for him.

“For what it’s worth, Nate…” Rachel’s voice trailed off for a moment, trying to catch his gaze, “You can be more than what your last name provides you. There’s always a choice.”

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a horn blaring from the other side of the house. Birds flocked out of trees and Justin shot up from his slumber, kicking the murky water out of the bong at his feet.

Rachel shook her head and laughed, “And that’s my cue. My blue haired steed seems to be growing impatient and I think I let her wait long enough.” She got up and placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He turned his head in acknowledgement as Rachel spoke, “Let me know if you ever need to talk. I’ll see you back on campus.”

She began walking away to the rickety side gate as sunglasses materialized in her hands. Nathan took a breath before he spoke up, “Hey, Rach… can you not…”

Rachel looked over her shoulder, “This stays between us, I know.”

Nathan nodded his head in thanks. Rachel put her sunglasses on, the sunlight glinting off of them, “Also, please take a shower. You fucking reek.”

And with a wink, she disappeared out the side gate.

Nathan’s hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel of his truck. His grip gave him a false sense of hope that his body had stopped shaking. He could feel his brain rattling around in his skull, trying to escape through his ears. There was a weight behind his eyes that made it feel like they were going to pop out of their sockets, he blinked furiously trying to alleviate the pressure. Sweat was dotted across his forehead, his eyes narrow and trying desperately to focus.

He needed to focus.

He couldn’t fuck this up. He needed this to work. He needed him to understand that he was capable. This would earn the respect he deserved. He needed to get it together.

As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and thumbed at the notification. It was a text message, the sender was aptly labeled M. Jefferson. The text simply contained three words…

I’ll be waiting.

Nathan took a steadying breath while he tapped the notification away. He looked up at the darkness of Blackwell’s parking lot. He killed the engine, the silence quickly taking over. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the distant thumping of music coming from the party across campus. He looked at the clock on his dashboard.

10:38 PM. March 28, 2013.

His eye began to twitch. The itching in his brain made him want to crawl out of his skin. He ran his sweaty palms down the length of his face before he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of pills. He twisted the cap and popped a few into his mouth, swallowing them dry. The weight of them heavy against his empty stomach. He took several steadying breaths before taking the keys out of the ignition and stepping out into the brisk night. He began walking, guided by the pumping bass music. He looked up to the night sky, squinting hard, trying to see any stars.

He couldn’t see a single one.

The muscles in his body started to relax and he felt his eyes beginning to dilate, like a camera trying to find the sharpest point of focus. He brought his head back down, the pavement in front of him stretching further into the campus lawn like taffy being pulled from a hook. He laughed as he tried to follow the path that twisted and writhed beneath him like a snake. The voices that echoed in his ears had hushed to a whisper, letting him hear the music that was growing louder and louder with every hop in his step. He was nearly startled out of his shoes when he bumped into passing drunk students wobbling out into the quad. Their drunken laughter letting out swirls of color into the night sky. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the gym. Music and bright lights spilling out the front doors like a broken dam.

He was greeted by Courtney on the way in, a clipboard diligently in her hand ticking off names that were on the list and scolding the passerby that weren’t. He felt power coursing through his veins as he looked down at his steady hands. When he looked up, a new song had kicked up and the gym had become a massive vortex of bodies that were jumping to the same beat. Lights flashed against his face as the shouts of the crowd filled the air. He looked at the far corner of the gym where a makeshift bar had been set up. He felt the deep corner of his jacket pocket where his chosen tool of the trade for the night was, a small baggie filled to the brim with a powdered substance.

He felt the party’s vibrations shake his bones, the ground beneath him bouncing along to the same heartbeat as the party goers. He scanned the sea of sweaty bodies bumping against each other. His eyes were trained and focused, hunting.

The bass had dropped and cheers erupted across the gym, piercing every eardrum that the soundwaves thrashed through. The lights began to flash faster causing everyone to move in interrupted spurts of color. Nathan began to slowly bob his head to the beat, his foot tapping on the polished wood beneath him. His heart began to pulse out of his fingertips while he blinked slowly. The crowd at the center of the dance floor had perfectly parted to reveal what he was looking for…

The hypnotic sway of a blue feather earring.

Chapter Text

The concept of a beat varies depending on the context. In music, a beat sets the rhythm for a song. In the body, the beat of a heart pumps blood through the body. In a battle, to be beat means to be defeated. In nature, the beat of a bird’s wings sets its course in the sky. However, for someone like Rachel, a beat usually means a pause. As someone who was well versed in the arts, she saw beats littered across almost every script she’s ever read. A beat in a script usually signifies a pause, a moment of hesitation, a moment that something shifts in the character that it’s meant for. It’s the smallest unit of measurement in a script yet it had become one of Rachel’s favorite elements to experiment with whenever she performed. It challenged her to create the most impactful performance through the smallest possible change.

Throughout Rachel’s life, she’s had her own set of beats that made their marks on her. Small and significant moments where she felt something within her shift, for better or for worse. They ingrained themselves into her memory, almost like dogeared pages in the story of her life. One of the first beats she could remember was when she fell in love with the spotlight. She could remember the way a dry rolled up leaf tickled her nose when she used it as a fake mustache to put on a one person play for Sydney Johnson in the second grade. She didn’t know why Sydney was crying all alone under a tree during one warm recess, but she knew that she wanted to help. Without even a second thought she improvised an entire play about a magical mustache named Mustachio, complete with a musical number and a tear-jerker of a monologue. By the end of recess, Rachel had made the playground her stage with every innocent pair of eyes watching her dance and shout across the grass and around jungle gyms. Sydney Johnson had stopped crying by the end of the second act and it was the look in her eye that made Rachel consider what she would want to be when she grew up. It was the exact second, the beat of silence that followed Rachel’s declaration of the end of the play, that something shifted. It was the looks of pure wonder and amazement in every pair of eyes that were on her that changed something in Rachel.

She wanted to be in the spotlight ever since.

The next important beat in Rachel’s life happened two years later on a family camping trip to Mount Hood. If Rachel thought about it too hard, the memory would sting now but she knew it was still important nonetheless. They were far from perfect parents, but James and Rose Amber always tried their best to sprinkle adventure throughout Rachel’s life, be it through bigger gestures like traveling to different countries or in smaller ways like spontaneous trips to get ice cream after dinner. Although their relationship had transformed into something nearly unrecognizable through the recent years, they were their own traveling wolf pack of three during her childhood. They made a lot of memories as a family, with one of her scariest yet fondest memories being their camping weekend in the forests of Oregon.

The car ride there felt like it took an eternity but the change of scenery helped pass the time. From the bustling streets at the base of tall buildings to the serene winding roads wrapping around an endless sea of trees, the road from California to Oregon was nothing short of transformative. The campground was just as breathtaking, settled at the base of Mount Hood. Local wildlife welcomed the Ambers to their new home for the weekend and Rachel wasted no time venturing off into the woods while her parents prepared their camp. There was always something about nature that Rachel felt connected to in a way that she was never quite able to place. She always felt interconnected to the universe in that same way. She felt grounded in the earth but her soul always fluttered to the stars in search of something more.

She had spent a majority of the weekend exploring the perimeter of the camp, spinning tales in her head of knights and princesses frolicing in the brush just beyond her vision. She imagined she was the next Steve Irwin, making up facts about the native greenery and the lively ecosystem of the pacific northwest. She had confronted her fear of reptiles that weekend, with James carefully guiding her hand across the back of a native lizard that she cursed herself for forgetting the name of. However, the next beat of her life didn’t occur until the final hike of the trip.

She had promised James that she wouldn’t stray too far and she swears that she didn’t. All she wanted to do was follow the freshly laid deer tracks that marked the muddy trail. She followed them all the way to a steep drop into the thicker parts of the forest. She remembers her breath catching in her throat as she watched the deer lift its head in caution from behind a bush. She just wanted to get just a teeny bit closer, just to see enough to make out the intricate markings of brown and white fur. She was doing well until the mud gave way from beneath her and she had disappeared over the edge, a flailing mess right into the bushes below. She would never forget the feeling of branches scratching her cheeks, the taste of blood from her busted lip, and most importantly the snap of twigs masking the snap of her bone.

She doesn’t remember yelling. She doesn’t remember how much time had passed. It could’ve been two minutes or two hours, but she remembers the way the trees swirled above her head. Tall guardians helplessly staring down at her, awaiting her next move. She closed her eyes to fight the dizziness and when she opened them again, she was in her dad’s arms. She remembers the sweat that trickled down his face, the way his arms shook around her, and the gentle coos of reassurance that everything would be okay.

She looked up at James, seeing double, as he carried her back down to the trail head. She would never forget the shift she felt then, the way her dad looked like a superhero in the fading daylight. She felt safe with him there, like he could protect her from anything.

Her dad used to be her hero.

It wasn’t long before the rose tinted glasses cracked and threatened to fade away as Rachel got older. Lines between love and manipulation crossed and blurred. Perfection turned into a standard expectation and anything defying that expectation was embellished in disapproving hums and disappointed stares. Comradery turned into competition and she was forced to sharpen her claws to keep up. It was exhausting but Rachel’s determination to maintain the shape of perfection was steadfast. She pretended not to notice how her stomach twisted whenever she heard the whispers of crude rumors when she walked past her peers just like she pretended not to notice the growing divide between her parents and how the silences during dinner stretched longer than she remembered. She pretended that she could take on just about anything that was thrown at her, hoping one day that she would feel as confident and as sure of herself as she made herself seem to be.

Acting was mostly playing pretend after all.

So when James had announced their move from California to Arcadia Bay, Rachel pretended not to be as scared and nervous as she was. Instead, she packed up her life into neatly labeled boxes and set her focus on preparing for her first semester at the prestigious Blackwell Academy. She felt a piece of her heart fly off into the California breeze as she watched her childhood home fade away into a memory. That specific beat of her life was a hard one to play into but she pretended not to feel the way the tears pricked the corners of her eyes and instead focused on the feeling of starting somewhere new.

Adjusting to the sleepy life of Arcadia Bay wasn’t the easiest, but Rachel felt good about how well she carved out a place for herself in the Blackwell ecosystem. It wasn’t until her sophomore year that she felt a familiar little tug in her chest. Another beat brought forth by a lone wolf rummaging through a messy locker adorned with graffiti and crumpled homework assignments. Rachel always noticed her, with her ripped jeans and her dusty sneakers, a permanent scowl plastered on her face as she bobbed and weaved around the busy halls. Rachel was used to the attention by now, she would even come to expect it whenever she entered a room. Whether it be by her peers or her teachers, some spotlight would shine down onto her, she made sure of it. Yet she never failed to notice how unimportant everything and everyone seemed to be to the lone wolf. It was confusing and foreign to give such little regard to what the outside world thought of you. With time, Chloe Price had become Rachel’s own little mystery. The most pressing part of the mystery lay in the way Rachel found herself hoping that Chloe would notice her back. The pull she felt whenever she was in Chloe’s orbit was undeniable but dangerous, a mix of apprehension and crushing curiosity.

The tug in her chest became crystal clear the day she had witnessed Alyssa Anderson become the daily target of scrutiny from a pair of Bigfoot football assholes. Rachel's eyes remained trained on the contents of her locker but her ears had perked up at the sound of a passing comment about Alyssa’s newest hair color. She prepared a scathing yet graceful monologue on the importance of minding your own fucking business on the tip of her tongue in case things went too far but before she was able to use her charisma in practice, another voice rang out through the crowd.

“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business, asshole.”

It was short and to the point, but it got the job done. Rachel didn’t have to turn to see who the voice belonged to to know. After a short back and forth between Bigfoot elites and a little punk sophomore, Alyssa’s voice carried through the crowd in a short expression of gratitude to the brave and defiant soul before the conversation got lost to the sea of voices that flooded the halls. After swapping out the correct textbooks out of her backpack, Rachel shut her locker and spun around to continue down to her next class. Her journey was cut short by another body being pushed into her, notebooks and loose papers flying from her hands.

“Move it, freshman freak.”

Rachel watched her English homework get stepped on as a meathead senior blew past her and the sorry student that they shoved into her.

“I’m not a fucking freshman, jackass,” the student spat back without hesitation.

The voice was familiar and much closer than when she had heard it just a few minutes prior. Through the bustle, Rachel managed to kneel down and start gathering her things. Anger began to fill her core and she looked up to see just which assholes did this. However, she was surprised to find a pair of blue eyes staring back at her as she knelt down to help pick up what she could. Rachel felt herself freeze for a moment as she stared at Blackwell’s least known mystery.

Chloe Price.

That was the next significant beat in Rachel’s life. The second her eyes met Chloe’s in that busy school hallway, Rachel knew that she would never forget the way she felt in that moment. The way her breath caught in her throat and she was rendered speechless which was a significantly rare occurrence in her life. It was a feeling that she’s only felt a handful of times before and every time proved to be important. It was the same feeling she felt whenever something clicked into place, like piecing together the final two pieces of a puzzle.

What felt like forever was only a few moments as Chloe’s eyes peeled themselves away to focus on her hands that scrambled to pick up the remnants of Rachel’s homework that littered the ground. Rachel’s gaze remained for a moment longer, taking in every detail she could. She didn’t know why but she wanted to remember every second that passed in the bubble they had created for themselves there in the crowded hall but she didn’t stop staring until she was forced to. As Chloe wordlessly handed back a stack of disorganized papers, Rachel could swear she saw the faintest blush creep across the other’s cheeks. A pair of studded bracelets slid up her arm as she ran a hand through her cropped strawberry blond hair.

“Sorry about that,” Chloe grumbled, her eyes averting to anywhere else but Rachel’s face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel replied as she took the papers from Chloe’s hand. Before she could say anything else, the young rebel had gotten up and adjusted her bag over her shoulder.

“Well, see you around.”

Just as quick as she had come, she was gone and Rachel shook herself back to reality as she watched Chloe disappear around the corner, her head down and hands buried in her pockets.

That was the beginning of everything. The beginning of fire and smoke ignited by a spark in the mundane. It was the beginning of a story that would become Rachel’s biggest role to play. After that day, everything would fall into their own like dominos falling into one another. The concert at the old mill, the train, the fire, the lies, the deception, the stars, the truth, the love. Chloe was the beginning of something new. Something where Rachel finally began to understand that not everything could be shaped into perfection, but instead needed to be nurtured and cared for to create something different and messy and significant.

Years had passed since that first moment that blue eyes locked onto hazel ones for the first time. Although the years hadn’t always been kind to them, they stuck through it all together. A flash of a blue feather earring was always accompanied by a head of blue hair, and the whole town had grown to understand that what they shared was something that was never to be understood by anyone else but them. Everything that they had endured, they survived because of each other.

Rachel knew that this part of her life belonged to Chloe and although something always seemed to threaten to get in the way, they always found a way to persevere. It was always them against it all.

That morning had thrown Rachel off for a moment. Insecurity had been ingrained into their relationship just as much as the adventure and the unwavering love had been. Rachel’s had her share of fuck ups and secrets and secret fuck ups, but she always knew that everything lead to Chloe. She would stop at nothing to make sure that she and Chloe made it out of Arcadia Bay together, even if it meant making questionable decisions on her own to make it happen.

Graduation was quickly approaching and time was wrapping its unforgiving hands around Rachel’s neck, constricting her airway with the threat of anxiety. She seemed to have a perpetual list of things to do before the big day came, whether it be finals or saving money or applications for future jobs and colleges. Sometimes when it came to be too much, she needed to focus on where she was and where she was trying to go. She would trace the star on her wrist to remember the promises made under street lamps in the falling ash, to remember the hope of something better beyond the tree lined mountains of Arcadia Bay.

It was easy to fall into a spiral of worry and stress, which is why Rachel really needed to go to this Vortex Club party tonight. With the newest chapter of her life starting after graduation, she wanted to focus on living in the present where she could dance and drink under the neon lights of a shitty high school party. Having skipped the last few parties to catch up on homework or to spend time at the junkyard with Chloe, Rachel figured now would be as good a time as any to make her grand appearance back into the social swing of Blackwell.

After a surprising visit to Victoria’s room and a full two hours of getting ready in Dana’s, the night started off without a hitch. Dana was kind enough to not only share her mascara, but also the best bottle of shitty tequila that Arcadia Bay Liquor Mart could provide. By the time Rachel had made it to the middle of the dance floor, her stomach was warm and her limbs began to feel looser with every pounding bassline that reverberated against the walls of the gym. She made her usual rounds, dancing with Dana until beads of sweat trickled down their necks, taking a hit from Hayden’s bong in the VIP section as she listened to him vent about Keaton’s latest critiques, she even managed to take a shot with Victoria and Taylor without it ending in a screaming match.

By her third hit from Hayden’s bong, she had decided that letting herself melt into her seat was the better option before Dana would find her and drag her back into the mix of the crowd. Smoke wafted from between Rachel’s lips as she pulled out her phone and read a text from Chloe.

Staying late at the Two Whales tonight. Stop in if you want some free pancakes to sober up.

A smile formed on Rachel’s lips as she began to type out a response. Her focus was broken by the weight shifting on the couch and before she could press send, she looked up to find Nathan staring at her. He looked a little worse for wear so Rachel pocketed her phone and turned to him.

“There you are!” Rachel shouted through the noise, “I didn’t think you were gonna make it tonight.”

Rachel took note of his appearance. His jacket sat crooked on his shoulders, his hair was sticking out at odd angles, his cheeks flushed. Through it all though, it was his eyes that caught her the most off guard. There was something there that Rachel doesn’t think she’s ever seen in him before and it was something she couldn’t place. They were dark, no sign of light in them. It would normally have been unsettling but Rachel knew that Nathan had been struggling for the last couple months. He had been more distant than he had ever been but a constant stream of Prescott drama was no secret around town, be it the constant pressure from his father or the various failed attempts at finding a proper therapist. Rachel always tried her best to be there for him though, even from a distance. Yet even that has proven to be difficult lately, with Nathan disappearing for days on end only to reappear looking worse than the last.

When Nathan didn’t immediately respond, Rachel tried again. “Hey, Nate.” She said, voice softer this time, “Are you alright?”

It took a moment for him to respond but eventually he managed, “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, Rach.”

“Did you just get here? No offense but your hair has seen better days,” Rachel attempted to sound light hearted but judging from Nathan’s expression, it didn’t land.

“Yeah, just got here. I was thinking of getting a drink actually. I didn’t get to pregame before coming, so I need something to loosen up.” He stood up with a wobble in his step, “You want one?”

A feeling deep in Rachel’s gut made her hesitate for a moment. For someone who didn’t get to pregame beforehand, Nathan was already acting out of place and only Rachel seemed to notice. She watched him shove his hands in his pockets to hide them shaking, meanwhile the dark circles under his eyes twitched as he waited for her answer. She narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a once over.

“So?” Nathan asked.

“Sure,” Rachel finally said. Before she could say anything else, both Logan and Dana had appeared from the shadows. Logan had slung his arm around Nathan as they walked to the bar, meanwhile Dana beckoned Rachel back to the dance floor.

The unease had slipped away as Rachel followed Dana back into the crowd. Regardless of what Nathan was going through, Rachel needed to prioritize herself for the remainder of the night. She spent most of her day showing up for people and she knew that this was her time to show up for herself. Dana always proved to be the best party date because she was always ready to have a good time. Between her and Rachel, they always proved to be unstoppable on the dance floor. They always managed to be in sync, always in each other’s sights, bodies perfectly swaying and thrashing to the beat. Rachel closed her eyes and let her worries fade away into the background as she lost herself in the music and the blinding lights flashing above the crowd. Her peace was interrupted by a hand sliding around her waist. It didn’t feel like Dana’s or anyone who’s ever touched her in that way for that matter. She spun around to find Nathan, swaying and bobbing to the music.

Rachel leaned to his ear as she matched his rhythm, “Feeling better?”

“Totally,” he shouted back, “Here you go, by the way!”

He held out a red plastic cup, a fruity looking cocktail swishing inside. Rachel looked at the cup, then back up to Nathan, “Where’s yours?”

“I chugged mine back at the bar with Logan,” he replied, “Don’t think I forgot about you though!”

Rachel fought the feeling in her gut and accepted the cup from Nathan’s hand. She noticed him tense for a moment, eyes trained on her, waiting. The lights above covered them in a red light and Rachel looked around for a friendly face, across the gym she saw Dana and Logan dancing a little too close. She caught Dana’s eye for a moment and looked at Logan, a question in her eyes. Dana gave a shy smile and shrugged.

Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled back anyway. If she learned anything from being at Blackwell, it was to mind your business then deal with the consequences later. As she turned back, Nathan was still bobbing along to the beat, watching her intently. The song ended as another bass heavy song picked up and Rachel brought the cup up to her lips and took a long swig, which seemed to satisfy Nathan enough to finally peel his eyes away from her. The drink tasted like sugar and gasoline, and it burned on the way down.

She shoved the cup back in Nathan’s face, “That shit is hella strong. You trying to kill me, Prescott?”

Another attempt at brightening the mood, only this time it seemed to land as Nathan laughed. A deep laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest, “Don’t be a pussy!”

Rachel laughed and shook her head, “Fuck you! You try drinking that shit.”

Nathan took the cup and held onto it as the music grew louder and the crowd found their own heartbeat. The room seemed to pulse around them and the ground shook beneath their feet. It wasn’t long before Rachel started to feel off. She felt goosebumps form on the surface of her skin, almost feeling like pinpricks of ice regardless of being sandwiched in a sweaty crowd. She looked up at the lights overhead, all of them blurring into a cacophony of blinding color and everything began to show double.

“Fuck.” Rachel said, more to herself than anyone, “I need to sit down.”

Nathan was quick on the draw to offer a helping hand, “What do you need?”

Rachel felt her pockets and found them empty, “Shit, I think my phone- it might be on the couch.”

She didn’t fail to notice her words were beginning to slur as the ground beneath her began to shift. She didn’t wait for Nathan to follow as she began to push past the crowd. The sea of people seemed to stretch on forever and Rachel felt her legs beginning to shake. As she continued to claw her way past, a steadying hand gripped her shoulder.

“You don’t look too good, Rach.” It was Nathan’s voice, following closely behind her as she continued to stumble through the crowd, “Let’s get you some air.”

Rachel nodded and let herself be led across the gym and outside. When the night air hit her lungs, she took a deep breath but it did nothing to alleviate the weight that was beginning to set on her limbs. The world was beginning to spin around her and she let Nathan guide her to the side of the building, away from anyone who threatened to ask any questions. She leaned her forehead on the cool brick as she tried to get her bearings.

“Fuck, I didn’t think- I don’t think I drank that much,” she said, her voice becoming weaker with every word. “I- I need my phone, Nate. I- should call Chl- fuck.” She caught herself from falling with her shoulder, “Chloe. I need to call Chloe.”

She closed her eyes to stop the world from spinning, but even from the safety of her eyelids, she could feel Nathan’s stare burning into the back of her head. She swallowed, her throat becoming dry and sticky, her words struggling to find their way out, “N- Nathan. Get me my f-f-fucking phone.”

Rachel doesn’t know how much time had passed but the familiar chime of her phone rang out from behind her. Her heart sank like lead into her stomach as she turned her body to follow the noise. It was Chloe’s ringtone and it was coming from Nathan’s jacket pocket.

“Nathan?” Rachel breathed, her vision was beginning to darken.

“It’ll be alright, Rachel,” she heard him say. She heard him take a step forward and she tried to turn away but was stopped by a calloused hand grabbing her chin. Her head was turned sideways and, before she could protest, she felt a prick of something sharp enter her neck.

Her legs gave out first, the rough ground scratched the side of her face as she fell. Her eyes fluttered closed as her chest got heavy with an invisible crushing weight. The sound of Nathan’s murmurings to himself had echoed into the darkness. The world had gone black, no more sense of direction, no more sense of existing, of being.

Her head swirled with vague shapes and figures. Voices began to bounce around her skull, some familiar, some terrifying. Through the haze she recognized some of the voices as her dad, Sera, Damon, Principal Wells, David, Victoria. Meanwhile, other voices were too distorted to make out. Where she thought she would find comfort in the familiar, she only felt anguish as poisoned words looped themselves in her ears.

It felt like a million people were talking at once and Rachel wanted to scream, it was too loud, too disorienting. She couldn’t feel the world around her anymore, she felt cold and heavy. She didn’t think she knew what dread truly felt like before that moment. The consuming void that sunk its sharpened teeth deep into bone until there was nothing left to feel but emptiness. That was the worst thing to feel, she thought, emptiness where something should have been. Emptiness where happiness and sadness and love and warmth and anger should have been. She felt everything being taking away from her, her hopes and dreams, her present and her future, her life.

The voices grew louder and louder until they were deafening and then suddenly… they stopped.

Rachel tried to look through the dark and this time she saw something in the distance. A flickering blue flame, too far to reach. Rachel willed herself to move, but she felt stuck in place. A pair of voices picked up again, but quieter this time and more isolated. They gently echoed into the abyss, almost as if to lead her towards the single blue spark. She listened closely.

Rachel?

A familiar voice, a warm one. One that she had grown to love and to be in love with.

Come on!

Another voice, her own this time.

It’s nice Rachel we’re having.

What?

I mean weather! It’s nice weather.

It sure is.

The blue flame continued to flicker in the distance. Rachel tried her best to focus on it, it seemed to help.

Wasn’t that fun?

You’re so dead!

Yeah? How dead?

Hella dead.

Rachel considered this for a moment. Was she dying? Is that what this was?

There could be flamethrowers, an army of robot ninjas, and a motherfucking dragon on a leash between you and her, and I would still find a way to get you there.

Chloe fucking Price. My magical Shakespeare fairy.

Shut up.

The blue flame flickered and Rachel watched, entranced.

You were so fierce, and I just froze. I fucked it up, and I’m so sorry, and…

And you saved my life. You. Saved. My. Life.

Their voices rang out again. This memory was more recent, from this morning.

I love you, Chloe Price. To the stars and back.

To the stars and back.

The blue flame had gone out and the voices ceased once again. She willed herself to hear her own voice again, to hear Chloe’s.

The darkness engulfed every cell in her body. She waited and waited for another voice to ring out. Something, anything to let her know she wasn’t alone in the void.

All she heard through the darkness was a familiar sound, but this one less inviting.

The click of a camera shutter.