Archive of Our Own

It’s raining. Raven stands ankle deep in water at the bus stop, thin umbrella barely shielding her from the heavy drops falling from overhead. She checks her watch with a scowl, looking up and down the street, watching for her ride. She glances behind her, seeing the bus stop’s covered area completely full of people with distressed expressions. She rolls her eyes and exhales sharply, looking at her watch again.

She’s never been so frustrated with the public transportation system. She’s used to late buses, late trains, some minor issues with the route. However, a bus that was thirty minutes late on one of the most important days of her life (perhaps an exaggeration, but it feels that way) was unacceptable. She was going to be late for her interview for a job at a local car shop. (Not just any car shop, though, the shop she’d been dreaming of working at ever since she started her first semester at college. She’s hoping her spiffy new degree in mechanical engineering will help her get the job. Even if it doesn’t pay all that well, she’ll be doing the things her dreams are made of.)

The young mechanic bites her bottom lip and glares at her watch for a third time. Just as she’s about to pick her head back up, she feels something hard slam into her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. Her umbrella slips out of her hand and blows quickly away, and she curses as she tries to regains her balance before she could plummet to the ground. Someone’s hand grasps her forearm to right her, and when she stables herself, she jerks her head to face the person who bumped into her.

“You motherfucker--”

His face is as white as a sheet, dark hair soaking wet, sticking to his forehead. His blue eyes are wide and his hand is still clasped onto her forearm. She glares down at it, and his gaze moves from her face to his grip. He quickly pulls away and stumbles backwards, eyes moving to meet hers.

“Fuck-- it’s you.” he breathes, his eyes running over her body, lingering on her legs. Raven can barely understand the words over the thundering rain, and feels a chill run down her spine when his gaze returns to her face.

“Excuse me?” she shouts, pushing her now sopping wet hair behind her ears, (before the rain ruined her look she was well made up for one, straight hair down with the sides pinned back. But now it’s in disarray, especially after this incident) “You just ran into me, made my umbrella to blow away, and you can’t even say sorry?” His expression doesn’t change, but he stutters out an apology. Suddenly he’s looking back and forth, his face changing from shock to anxiety, and he turns back to her with a forced grin.

“You’ve been waiting here a while, huh?” he asks, tone smooth as the wind is sharp.

She sneers, looking him up and down. Raven crosses her arms. “Yeah. Why?”

“To repay you for… just now, I could give you a ride to wherever you need to go.” he offers, brows lifted in a hopeful expression.

Raven swallows, forcing herself not to check the time. She knows she’ll be late if she doesn’t leave soon, and this is the only prospective employment she’s got lined up, and it’s the only job she really wants at this point. If she misses the interview, there’s no way she’ll get the job.

“How far away is your car?”

Her stomach begins to writhe when his face lights up in a twisted grin. He shoves his hands in his pocket, nodding his head to his left. “Just across the street in that lot. Come on.” Without waiting for a reply, he rushes off, and she struggles to keep up.

She sends one last glance to the people waiting at the stop, feeling uneasy about her new adventure with this stranger, but follows him through the street and into the lot anyway. The rain is still beating down on their heads and shoulders, and it’s almost hard to see him through the torrential downpour, but she keeps up. Raven sloshes through several puddles before they make it to the lot, rounding the fence around the area and heading towards a line of cars. He leads the way, rushing towards a dingy looking truck. Raven runs towards the passenger seat, desperate to be dry.

The doors click open and she’s inside in an instant, shaking off the excess water like a dog fresh out of the bath and running her fingers through her hair. Raven winces in pain when she fingers through the knots, but she isn’t preoccupied by this long before she feels the other’s heavy gaze on her back. She glances over to the driver who was trying not to make it obvious that he was staring.

“I’m getting out if--”

“No, no I’m sorry you just,” he pauses, starting the truck and putting it into gear, “you just look like someone I used to know.” The creak of the car is a little concerning, especially since she knows cars so well, but when it starts to move, it’s almost as smooth as his voice, almost calming. The rumbling of the engine is drowned out by the storm outside.

Ignoring her concern about the car stalling or breaking down, she grunts and slumps back into the seat. “Nygel’s Auto Shop.” she huffs, glaring at him as he drives. They pass the bus stop and the crowd is still there, faces still angry and unaware that she’d made her escape and was on her way long before they’d even see turning wheels. She hopes none of them have appointments to make. Raven feels a little guilty as their image hits the rearview mirror, but the feeling fades when she starts to think about her interview.

“So what’s your name?” she asks, turning her head to face him. The drive shouldn’t be too long, but not short enough to sit in silence, she thinks.

“Uh,” he replies, jaw going slack. (She notices the sharpness of the line, the edge of his cheekbones. He’s not unattractive, now that they’re sitting in close proximity and she’s not fuming mad at him.)

“You don’t know your own name?” she says, a smirk developing on her lips, “You’re more of a dumbass than I originally thought.”

He scoffs, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “You’re more of a smartass than you look.” he says. She lets out a laugh. “I’m Murphy.”

“Murphy.” she tries it out on her tongue. “Just Murphy?” he nods. “Do your friends call you Murphy?”

He rolls his eyes, making a turn onto a familiar street. She glances out the window, tapping her fingers on her thighs. They fall into silence.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my name is?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. He looks a little startled.

“Yeah-- sorry-- what’s your name?”

“None of your business.” she replies as-a-matter-of-factly, and he brings the truck to a halt. He rolls his eyes, hands gripped tight on the wheel. She notices his knuckles going white, then going back to normal when his frustration ebbs.

“Typical of you to…” he says under his breath. Raven feels herself tense, the odd statement alarming her.

“What?”

Murphy stiffens. “Sorry. Like I said. You look like someone I used to know. Act like her too.” he says, looking her in the eyes for a brief moment, then shifting his gaze back to the road. She licks her lips, shifting to get comfortable in the seat, now suddenly wishing she was back at the bus stop.

“Whatever. You’re so weird.” she huffs.

“You have no idea.” he replies. The vehicle lurches forward. She didn’t even notice they’d been at a stop light, too engrossed in the strange conversation. “So… name?”

She snorts. “Raven. Raven Reyes.”

“Alright. Reyes.” he says, and it causes another chill to run down her spine. Her name fits so well on his tongue, sounds so comforting in his voice. It’s as if he’s been saying it for years, as if he’s known her for that long. She bites her lip, tugging it between her teeth and furrowing her brows. An indescribable feeling falls over her.

She gazes at him as he drives, studying the tightness of his brow as he concentrates, the straight line of his lips, the sharp point of his nose. Looking at him for this long makes him look so… familiar.

“Have we… met?” she asks quietly, surprised at her own question. Something in him shifts. He seems to melt. His shoulders slacken, his expression shifts.

“Don’t think so,” he says with a sigh, “I would remember meeting a girl as hot as you.”

She scoffs, unimpressed by his answer. “You’re disgusting.”

“You didn’t have to take me up on my offer,” he retorts.

“You didn’t have to offer,” she snarks.

Murphy begins to laugh. At first it’s slow, rhythmic and soft, but it crescendos into a loud, throaty cackle. He doesn’t stop laughing until they’re at the shop and the car has come to a halt. The man rests his head on the steering wheel, shoulders bobbing up and down as he laughs. Raven just watches, feeling as if she’s been left out of some kind of joke.

He finally calms down, breathing slowly and steadily, and looks up at her.

“You gonna get out of my car?” he asks mockingly, but the edge is worn off, almost as if he’s afraid to give her the brunt of his fake anger. She swallows, eyes trained on his as if she was in a trance.

“Yeah…” she replies, brows furrowed and palms flat on the seat cushion. Her body is very still, frozen to the seat.

He nods as if he understands what she’s going through at this moment, reaching across her lap and pushing open the door. The rain has let off into a light drizzle. She bites her tongue.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment. She pushes her hair behind her ear, tying it up into a ponytail before hopping out of the truck and into the parking lot. She reaches for the door, but his voice stops her from shutting it.

“Hey Reyes,” he calls out. She turns to face him, “see you ‘round,” he says, and puts the car in gear. Raven slams the door closed and watches him take off, eyes following him down the road until she can’t see the taillights anymore.

She snaps back to reality, looking down at her watch. Two minutes late. That’s forgivable, she thinks, and she ducks into the auto shop and greets her future employer with a grin.

She doesn’t see Murphy for three months. In that time, she’s forgotten about the odd feeling he gave her, how she felt equally as uncomfortable and comfortable in his presence, and nearly forgot that he’d even existed. But three months pass, and he drives his off-white pickup into the shop with a shit-eating grin on his face, arm stuck out the open window, his nest of hair blowing with the cool breeze that runs through the garage. He parks the car as Raven pulls off her welding mask, squinting her eyes against the bright sun to see his face. He sticks his thumbs in his jean pockets and walks right up to her, looking her up and down. Raven rolls her eyes, that odd feeling weighted like a rock at the pit of her stomach, and she pulls off her gloves and glances over to his car.

“What can I do for you?” she asks out of habit. She knows she should be asking him why he’s here, because his car looks fine and he’s looking too smug just to be here to pick up a part. (And she’s sure she would have recognized his name if he’d ordered something for pickup.)

“Oil change,” he says quickly, looking behind her at the car body she’d just been working on. She frowns, tucking her gloves under her arm and moving toward his car, jumping in the driver’s seat without asking and starting the car. She looks at the dash and sees the little yellow light signaling that the oil needs to be changed, and turns the car off with the click of a key. She jumps out, slamming the door shut behind her and moving away from the truck. By now, Murphy is standing a few feet away, arms crossed with a smirk. He’s watching her, but she doesn’t mind. She drops her gloves on a work table, then returns to the car, running her hands along the top of the hood.

“I’ll take a look under the hood, then get to work,” she says, breaking the silence, and lifting the hood of the car with a small grunt. Murphy just stands and watches, and she doesn’t make eye contact, “You can go inside if you want,” she huffs, nodding toward the room attached to the garage, “there’s probably coffee and--”

“Nah, I’m good.” he replies, and she looks around to find him grabbing a metal chair and sliding it in front of him. He smirks and spreads his legs, plopping down into the chair and crossing his arms over the back. The smirk disappears, and he acts like he’s interested in what she’s doing. She rolls her eyes again, but then returns to examining the car’s engine, trying to ignore his presence. “You remember when I gave you a ride?” he asks, interrupting her work. Raven nods, a little irritated (and unsettled) by the question.

“Yeah, after you slammed into me.”

“Well you were standing in my way--”

“Do you want me to fix your car?” she snaps, turning to face him. He scoffs.

“Yeah.”

She nods and goes back to her work, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“Remember when I told you you reminded me of someone?” She grunts in reply. Murphy’s eyes are trained on her as if she’s the most interesting thing on the Earth. “Well you’re Finn Collins’ girlfriend right?”

Her head reels back, “You know Finn?” she questions in disbelief. He starts to look even more smug, something she didn’t think was possible.

“Yeah. ‘Met him at a party a few months ago. He’s got long black hair, right?”

Raven, feeling almost uncomfortable that there’s suddenly a tangible connection between the two of them, walks around the car and reaches for a roller, “Yeah… It’s shorter now…”

“Yeah whatever. Beside the point. I went to this party, and my partner Bellamy’s friend Clarke--”

“Your partner?” Raven grabs a jack and places it under the front wheel, pushing the lever forward to move the car upwards.

Murphy’s face reddens, “Like police partner. I’m not gay.”

“Have you seen Bellamy?” she asks, a twinge of mischief in her voice. Murphy swallows, trying to regain his confidence.

“Yes. He’s a fine piece of ass, I know. I got chicks coming up to me everyday asking for his number. Wait-- you know Bellamy?”

Raven grunts as she gets the car where she wants it, and slides under the engine. “You could say that. Met a few times at some house parties. I think we went to rival high schools,” she glances back at him, “and you? A policeman? That’s a lie.”

Murphy hums as if he’s thinking deeply about something. “Used to be. I don’t do team work, so now I work for a security company,” he changes the subject quickly, “And what I’m trying to say is that Finn had you as his lock screen. He was trying to show me some app on his phone and he was so drunk he couldn’t quite make it there. And I saw you in the background and asked who you were. And that’s it. That’s how I know you.”

Raven has to speak louder to be heard from under the car, “Ah wow, now we have an explanation for why you got those weird googly eyes when you saw me for the first time.” she hears him mumble something under his breath and she rolls out from under the car to glare at him. “Which still doesn’t explain why you said those weird things and said I acted like some girl you knew. What’s with that?” she asks blatantly, cocking her head to the side.

He’s looking straight at her when she finally makes eye contact.

“You know, you’re too hot for him.” She groans, rolling back under the car. The change in subject is equally as unsettling as his presence in the first place. The number of times she’s had this speech is ridiculous.

“And I’m not too hot for your pasty ass?” she clocks back, realizing there are some tools she needs before she starts this process with a defeated sigh.

Murphy belts out a laugh, but quickly goes quiet. “Oh you definitely are. I’m just making sure you know you could do--”

“Better. I know. That’s what everyone says,” she breathes, pushing up from the ground once she’s out from under the car and walking towards a work bench. Quietly, to herself, ironically, she says, “and I can’t imagine why they’d say that.”

Murphy had heard exactly what she’d said but asks, “What?” anyway.

“Nothing. Can you stop distracting me so I can change your oil and you can leave?”

He scratches his chin, then running his fingers through his hair. “I like watching you work.” He says it as if he’s watched her before, is used to watching her. It makes her squirm.

“I like being left alone.”

“Okay,” he relents, standing and backing off, “I’ll go get some coffee or something. What else is in there?”

She sighs, “Donuts probably. There’s a vending machine too.” Raven turns around to see him, but he’s already disappeared into the waiting room, chowing down on a strawberry creme donut and glaring at the dirty month-old magazines. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and starts to really work on the car, wondering when Finn had her as his background, since it had always been the same thing: a picture of his mom and dad.

About an hour later, she’s done with her task, and Murphy is outside pestering her again. She closes the hood with a loud slam as he talks on and on about some sort of reincarnation theory he read in one of the magazines, but she doesn’t pay much attention. She’s trying to get him out of her shop as quickly as possible. She interrupts him in between words, “So your bill will come in the mail and you should be good to go for another six to eight months.” She pats his hood with an obviously forced smile, watching him move towards the driver’s seat.

“Which translates to: get the hell out of this shop so I don’t have to see you again for another half year. Or ever, preferably, I’m sure.”

She nods, “Hell yes, that’s what it translates to.”

He shrugs, sitting in the seat and biting his lip. “I forgot--” he says quickly, turning and reaching behind his seat to pull out a small umbrella, the price tag still on it. He sticks it out the window in her direction.

“Yours.” he says. She huffs, taking it out of his hands.

“Yeah, you owed me.” she says, investigating it for a moment and finding it satisfactory. She smacks it against her hand, waving him off as he turns the car on and puts it in gear. “Take care of your piece of shit car,” she calls as he backs out. He nods, pulling out into the street and waving as he drives away. When he’s out of sight, she releases a sigh. Raven tosses the umbrella onto her workbench and goes back to her project until another customer comes in.

She stumbles upon him more often than she wants to. On her way to work, he’s at the coffee shop, sitting at the bar with a girl she’s never seen or met before. The wave of jealousy that washes over her is strange and uncalled for, but she feels it anyways. The girl is small, mousey, and has a long brownish-blonde braid running straight down her head and laying across her back. She’s not smiling, and neither is he, but they seem to be enjoying each other’s company for the most part.

He doesn’t notice her at first as she orders a dozen donuts and a bag of coffee grinds. Her voice seems to carry, though, because she notices his eyes slowly turning to look at her after she’s placed her order.

“Hey Reyes,” he calls out, concealing a smirk. She turns to give him a once over. He looks just as smug and greasy as ever, but it’s somehow alluring. The woman sitting beside him gives Raven a scarier death glare than she’s ever received before in her life.

“Following me?” she asks as she’s being handed her order. She thanks the shop owner with a smile, then scowls at Murphy.

“Nah. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

The girl continues to glare, and it doesn’t look like Murphy’s going to introduce the two of them. So Raven decides to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“This your girlfriend?” she asks, nodding to the girl with the braid. The girl’s mood shifts completely, going from serious to embarrassed (and does Raven see… disgust?), and she wildly shakes her head.

Murphy elbows the girl, “No, this is Monroe. We work together. She’s ace.”

Raven raises a brow and shifts her weight, drawing closer, “Ace? As in…?”

“Asexual,” Monroe interrupts, “and aromantic. John’s just being nice for once in his goddamn life and paying me back a debt.”

Raven nods, admiring the girl’s audacity to blurt something like that out into the open, but no one in the shop seems to notice besides the three of them. Monroe continues, “John too, actually, the ace part, not the aro part,” she nudges him again, but his face is turning pink, “he’s definitely got romantic feelings-- it’s really gross actually.” Murphy glares at her. “So’s his drive to actually do-the-do, especially with brunettes,” and with that Murphy slams his head on the table.

“Your name is John?” Raven asks, her own face bright pink at the thought of Murphy and his sexlife. The thought of Murphy having a crush on her, having a crush on anyone actually. She diverges from that thought before it leads down a road she shouldn’t go down. Murphy’s face turns sour as he rises up from the table.

“Yeah. John Murphy.”

“Jonathan.” Monroe corrects with a smirk, and Murphy elbows her ribs hard as she cackles.

Raven bites her lip, watching Murphy’s face get redder and redder.

“Well, Jonathan and Monroe, I hope you enjoy your breakfast.” she says, checking the clock on the wall and scooting towards the door. Monroe smiles at her (and Raven takes note of how broad and beautiful that smile is compared to Murphy’s cringe) and waves, and she’s out of the store before she can ask why Murphy seemed so embarrassed to begin with.

“Picking up a part for Bellamy Blake,” someone’s gruff voice calls to her. She turns, wrench in hand and ready to throw it at whoever was walking in, interrupting her work. Someone else was supposed to be here to cover her-- technically she’s not even working today, just training new employees, yet here she is, standing alone in the garage with a ridiculously attractive man standing in front of her with his class grin.

Raven smiles at him, “Hey Bellamy,” she says, walking over to the old dented file cabinet that served as a sort of make-shift mailbox for people who ordered specific parts. She goes to the top drawer, runs her hands along the cool edges to see if there’s a package inside, and finds nothing. She crouches, checking the bottom two drawers, and frowns when both are empty.

“Hey Ray, haven’t seen you in a while.” He leans up against another car, crossing his arms and looking her up and down. She can tell he’s trying to be subtle, trying not to seem like an asshole, but it sure comes off that way. He’s dressed out  of uniform, so he must not be on the clock, and she can see the front of a white truck outside the garage, parked and waiting for him. Only the truck looks a little too familiar to be Bellamy’s. As if fate had taken the words right out of her mouth, Murphy swaggers in, spinning his keychain on his finger as he walks right up beside Bellamy and smirks at her.

“Hey Reyes.” he says, a little softer than Bellamy’s voice.

Raven glares, turning back to Bellamy, “I’m sorry, the part isn’t in yet apparently,” she explains, and Bellamy’s already confused expression grows deeper and more confused.

“I got a call, though, from… like, a… I forgot his name. He sounded young, kinda nervous?”

“Yeah. That was my coworker who just ditched me,” she deadpans, checking her watch, “He probably went for lunch, took the part with him and forgot.”

“Why take the part with him?” Murphy speaks up, leaning against the car beside Bellamy.

Raven glares at him again, uncertain of why now, instead of just annoyance or amusement, she feels animosity towards him, “I don’t know. He’s dumb as hell.” she barks, turning back to the file cabinet and sifting through the drawers again.

“Do you guys… know each other?” Bellamy asks, tilting his head and looking towards Murphy.

“You could say that--”

“Unfortunately--”

They speak at the same time, and immediately go silent once they realize they’ve interrupted each other. Raven eventually stands and shrugs at Bellamy, “I’m sorry, I just have no idea where it is. When do you need it?” she asks.

The older man looks a bit uncomfortable in between the two of them, but still answers the question, “Err, I honestly needed it yesterday but tomorrow is fine too. Or I can come by later today--”

“If you come again today, leave him at home.” Raven says, gesturing to Murphy. Murphy scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking away. Bellamy is starting to look concerned.

“Alright, well how about this,” he says, escaping the zone of incredible tension between the two of them to grab a piece of paper and a sharpie from the workbench, “I’ll give you my number and you can call me when the part is back here for sure,” he says, handing the piece of paper to Raven, then giving a broad smile and a slow blink, “and then maybe call me to go out some time.”

Raven’s eyes flick from Bellamy to Murphy, who seems just as shocked and offended as she is.

“You know I’m still with Finn right?” she asks, considering handing him the paper back, “Like… moving in with him within the next six months?” her eyes keep flashing between the two men, watching as Bellamy’s confidence remains consistent and Murphy grows more panicked and outraged. She almost wishes he would do something about this, but instead, he just stands and watches, jaw open and eyes wide.

“He told you that? Weird. I’m still free though when you’re free of him,” Bellamy says with a wink. Raven shudders.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she growls, “Why do you think that this is okay?” she turns to Murphy, “This is not okay,” she snaps, as if to confirm this is actually going on. He stands very, very still, though, and does not reply. So she turns back to Bellamy.

“Because you’re too good for him.” Bellamy says with a shrug, backing away a step and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“And I’m not too good for you?” Bellamy scoffs, turning back to the car and motioning for Murphy to follow.

“Hey, at least I don’t…” he stops, and doesn’t bother to finish the sentence.

“At least you don’t what?” she calls, but he doesn’t reply. Murphy’s gaze on her is heavy and apologetic as he walks away, and she can feel him longing to say something, but he just won't say it.

“Let me know when that part’s in!” Bellamy calls as he slams the truck door shut. Murphy’s eyes look heavy, sad, and full of regret. Instead of speaking, though, or even waving goodbye, he puts the car in gear and presses the accelerator, tearing his eyes away from her as he turns the wheel. Bellamy salutes her as they drive away, and she can’t help but to feel uncomfortable and betrayed, not only by someone who should have been her friend, but by Murphy, who stood and knew more than he said. But he didn’t owe her anything, she says to herself as she goes back to work on her project, and she doesn't owe him, so why does she feel like there are words unsaid between them?

Later that night she walks into Finn’s apartment, bone tired, and slips into the bed with a sigh of frustration. Finn is awake, and he opens his arms for her to wrap herself around him, holding her close as he tries to go to sleep.

“Finn,” she huffs, eyes closed and cheek up against his chest.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice gruff. She can almost detect a sense of annoyance. It makes her want to scream, kick off the warm covers and walk straight out, straight back to her own apartment. It makes her want to empty out all of her boxes, put her clothes back in the closet, call the landlord and tell him to put her on file for another six months. But of course, she doesn’t. She just holds on tighter.

“Bellamy came into the shop today…” she breathes, trying to get a reaction out of him. Instead, he turns his head, nuzzling his pillow with a soft sigh.

“That’s nice,” he breathes, his grip loosening around her shoulders as he falls asleep. Raven squeezes her eyes tighter, focusing on his steady breathing and the warmth all around her. When she falls asleep, it’s not Finn’s smell she’s breathing in, bathing in, it’s someone else’s. The face behind her eyelids when she sleeps is sharper, more agile, more alluring. The touch on her skin is rough but gentle, different from Finn’s, a pain in her back and a longing glance are pressing themselves into her mind. And when she wakes up alone, Finn’s space beside her cold and empty, the dreams she had seem more like memories.

Finn has to work that Friday, so whatever plans Raven had anticipated them having together unfold right in front of her. So instead of moping around the shop, as Nygel would call it, she decides to treat herself. She starts off the night about four in the afternoon, decked out in her favorite pajamas at her apartment, curled into her bed to marathon Netflix shows, but after a few episodes she gets antsy. The appeal of sitting warm in her bed, eating tubs of ice cream and giggling at comedic lesbians in prison is still there, but she yearns to do something else. About an hour before, she’d nearly canceled her reservation, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now that she was feeling anxious to go out, she tells herself she might as well go instead of wasting her opportunity. She checks her clock, seeing there’s about an hour before the selected time, so she wastes no time in getting ready for her date-for-one.

First, she calls for an Uber, and the driver says he’ll be there in twenty minutes. His New York accent is funny to her, and he seems nice enough, so she’s not worried about him being the cause of lateness.

Then she jumps out of bed, tosses her laptop onto her desk, and goes into her closet, now sparse after half moving in with Finn. She bites her lip, hand dragging along the dresses that she has hanging up. After a long period of trying on outfits and taking selfies, she finds a long sleeve red dress that hangs just above the knee and matches her black heels she has sitting at the foot of her bed. Convenient, she thinks, “and smoking hot,” she says aloud as she gazes at herself in the mirror. Raven checks the clock again, seeing that she has less than half an hour left, and rushes to the bathroom, putting her less-than-freshly-washed hair into a high ponytail and drawing on her eyeliner. After some concealer and mascara, she huffs in satisfaction. Raven combs out the ends of her hair one more time and freshens up with another layer of deodorant and a mist of perfume. Then, slipping on her heels and a few more pictures in her cracked, full-body mirror, she dashes out the door, and down the stairs.

Once she makes it to the street, she clicks on her phone, finding herself disappointed that her only notifications are email receipts from Starbucks and Sports Authority from her trip home this morning. At least she has enough time to get from her apartment to the restaurant without being penalized for her tardiness.

The click of her heels on the sidewalk towards the car are almost empowering, music to her ears after a day of quiet noise. The driver waves at her as she gets in the car.

“Thanks for coming,” she says, sifting through her wallet, “Abby’s Corner,” she says, looking up at him. His eyes seem to be bulging from his skull as he looks at her, so she snaps at him and shakes her head, “Eyes up here, asshole.” she says, but he starts to laugh, putting the car in gear and rolling forward.

“Listen, I have a boyfriend who I love dearly,” he says with a wide grin, “and I’m sure you’re on your way to see… your significant other… but I just need to say, you, my dear,” he glances back at her through the rearview window, “are out of this world hot.”

She mumbles a thanks, studying his distinctive wild curly hair and high cheekbones.

“I’m Jasper. Hope my rudeness doesn’t affect the tip,” he says as they pull up to the front of the restaurant. In a momentary lapse of judgement, or maybe for sympathy, she hands him way more cash than he deserves, and jumps out. He smiles at her, and she forces a smile back, not bothering to watch as he drives smugly away.

She walks up to the door of the restaurant, seeing a line forming at the front desk. Raven has an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wonders what the hostess will say when she asks for a reservation for two, and sits alone for all three courses. She bites back the venom readying itself behind her teeth and smiles at the hostess who beckons her forward with a wave. She places her hands on the desk, leaning forward.

“Yes, I made a reservation for six forty five?” she asks, glancing at the tablet in the girl’s hands, “Um… probably under Finn?” she asks. The hostess glances behind her, looking for a date of course, and then goes back to flicking through pictures on the iPad.

“Ah yes,” Raven sees that she glances at the wall, seeing that she’s a few minutes late, “you’re lucky we didn’t give your table away,” she waves to the line behind her, “but you’re good now. Follow me.”

The woman picks up two menus, and before Raven can tell her it’s only going to be a party of one, she dashes off into the dining area. Raven sighs, smoothing her hands over her dress and following closely behind.

The hostess picks a table for two right next to the gaping front window. Outside Raven can see people walking up and down the street. The hostess forces a sickly sweet smile and gives a little bow after setting down the menus and utensil sets. “Enjoy!” she chimes, dashing away back towards the crowd. Raven gives up on correcting her, settling for the idea of correcting the server.

She seats herself on the right, giving herself the best view of the outside world. Her hand falls beneath her chin as she slumps over, her other hand turning the little jar that holds the flickering candle. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. Her eyes lift from the table to the room, seeing several couples at small round tables covered in soft white cloth, tables decorated with lighted candles and little vases of flowers. The room itself is dark, only the candles and low ceiling lights illuminating the customer’s faces. Everyone is dressed to the nines… maybe the eights at best, actually, she thinks, and their voices are low in contrast to the high pitched sounds of clinking forks against plates and the heavy music coming out of the speakers in the walls.

Her head turns. Nothing interesting happens here, she thinks. She and Finn had been here a few times over the years, mostly to celebrate anniversaries or special events. Raven lets out a sigh, her eyes moving to the street outside. This time, they were supposed to be celebrating forgiveness. The dark feeling in her belly grows heavier. Her head picks up and she starts to look around. Why hasn't someone come to take her drink order yet?

She’s about to wave someone over before something, or someone, catches her eye on the sidewalk. Raven turns, narrowing her eyes to get a better look. He’s walking past the window, hands tucked in his pocket and head cocked to the side. Her heart begins to thrum heavier in her chest, the horrible disgusted feeling in her stomach is suddenly lifted. Her hand lifts immediately, brushing the window. It seems to catch his attention because Murphy slows down and stops dead in front of her, looking in the window with furrowed brows as if he doesn’t believe it’s her who's waving to him. (not really by choice though— it’s like she can’t even control her own actions at this point)

A smile begins to form on her face as she waves slowly, seeing him look back and forth and look closer to the window. He looks between her and the empty chair in front of her and points to the place setting without a person to match. She shrugs, then shakes her head. He won’t be able to hear her if she speaks, which he seems to understand, because he continues to use gestures to communicate.

He points at her, and then to the empty seat. She quirks a brow. Then he checks his watch and dodges out of the way of two boys skateboarding down the sidewalk. They nearly collide with him, but he slips out of the way just in time, using the window as support after he stumbles forward. She lets out a soft laugh, hearing his muffled yell and watching him push back his unruly hair. When he collects himself, he turns back to her, pointing to himself and then to the seat. Her heart stutters and she feels herself stop breathing.  She nods, though, waving her hand to the seat and smiling softly at him. If she was going to be honest, she’s never in her whole life seen anyone look more excited to sit down at a table.

He disappears and she turns, face almost brushing the front of her server’s button up shirt.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes!” she say, her voice sharp and quick. Her face immediately starts to redden, “Sorry,” she coughs, trying to calm herself down in front of her surprised looking waiter, “yes, he’s coming in right now.”

She leans over, and the waiter looks too, only to see Murphy chatting with the hostess who looks confused. Raven begins to wave, which catches the man’s eye, and he looks at her in relief. He jogs over, placing his hand on the back of her chair and leaning down, planting a kiss on her cheek and then moving towards the opposite side of the table.

“Hey babe,” he says, out of breath, “sorry I’m late,” he looks up to the waiter as he shucks off his jacket, “hi,” he huffs, “are you taking our drink orders now?” he asks politely. Raven gapes in shock. She didn’t know he had it in him to be kind of gentlemanly, and she sure as hell didn’t expect him to walk in acting like her boyfriend.

“Y-yes,” the waiter says with a grin, “what can I get you two?” he asks, pulling out his notepad.

Raven opens her mouth, but Murphy speaks before her as he scoots his chair in, “Bottle of your best red—“ he looks at her with a quirked brow, as if to ask if she liked red wine over white. She nods quickly, stifling a snicker with her hand as he continues the act, “yes, best bottle of red and two ice waters,” he looks at her, “that okay, babe?” she nods, unable to look the waiter in the eye. The poor guy is jotting down the order, glancing between them as if he’s missed out on some inside joke.

“Alright,” he says, tucking his pad of paper back into his shirt pocket, “well my name’s Monty, so just take your time ordering and I’ll be back with your wine and water.” He soon disappears and as soon as he’s gone Raven explodes with laughter, leaning over the table as her lungs threaten to give out from the strain of her stifled laughter.

“What?” Murphy asks, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his knees, “Not believable enough?” she looks up at him, wiping her mouth and trying to collect herself, knowing she looks like a hot mess after that incredible act Murphy just put on.

“Barely—" she sputters out, “but I don’t know why you thought that was necessary.” she says, finally straightening her back and looking around to make sure no one had seen her hysterical breakdown. No one seemed to be looking their way, so she turns back to Murphy who’s loosening the collar of his shirt. Somehow he was dressed for the part too.

“A guy like me doesn’t take a girl he just met to this kind of place,” he says, picking at his sleeve cuffs, “and two people who are just acquaintances, one a mechanic and the other who stands and looks scary for a living, don’t meet up for a nice night on the town here either,” he says as if it’s obvious, “so I decided, hey, why not play it up.” His eyes, she notices are looking bluer than ever tonight, move to the hostess’s desk, “Though that lady over there almost destroyed the whole thing. Told her I was looking for a table for two with the prettiest girl in the restaurant, and when she asked for a name I said ‘Murphy,’ but of course, I forgot—“

“It would be under Finn,” they say at the same time, both of their faces getting warmer as a result. Raven puts her hands on the table, folding them together and gazing at him, studying his white button-up and looking down to see his black slacks.

“So why are you dressed up?” she asks, tucking her hands under her chin. He leans back in the chair, hands in his lap.

“Had a date,” he says with a shrug, eyes moving to the window, “got cancelled.”

“Oh,” she replies, “so that’s why you were feeling all lovey dovey?” she asks. He looks a little flustered.

“Nah I’m just pulling your chain,” he leans forward, placing his elbows on the table and looking her in the eyes, “You want to know why I’m dressed up?”

She hesitates, then nods.

“I just had a feeling.” he says, point blank, then leaning back into his chair with a nonchalant expression as if he’d just said something profound. She narrows her eyes.

“You’re shitting me.” she says.

“Swear to God,” he smiles at her, “I woke up at like… four? In the afternoon. Had a weird feeling I needed to get dressed. I kept reaching for things but it all felt wrong. Put this on, and it felt right, and then my head was telling me to go for a walk. So after a lot of debating, I went on that walk. And here I am.” he shrugs after he’s done, sitting up when Monty comes back over with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses of water.

The waiter smiles when he sets everything down, reaching for his notepad to take their order.

Murphy quickly opens up the menu in front of him, scanning the first page quickly, “Can we start with…” he looks up at her, “You like veal?” she shakes her head in disgust. “Alright then cheese sticks.” he slaps the menu shut and nods up at the waiter.

Monty smiles and nods, “Need more time for the meal?” he asks.

“Yes,” Raven quickly replies, and Murphy finishes her sentence, “we’ll be here a while.”

Monty nods and moves away, back to the kitchen they both assume, and their attention goes back to each other. Murphy reaches for the wine, and Raven grabs the stem of her glass, holding it out expectantly.

“You better be paying for this,” she says, tilting her head, “because I was just going to get the cheap wine and a salad, then get a dessert to go.”

“Don’t worry,” Murphy says with a grin, pouring her a glass and then filling his own, “I’ve got this one. You can pay for the next one.”

Raven’s eyes widen as she brings the glass to her lips. He raises his glass as a sort of toast, and they both take a long sip at the same time, eyes locked on each other. The rich wine goes right to her head, and the taste is much more exquisite than she expected. She shivers in response, savoring the bite of it on her tongue. Raven puts her glass down, finger tracing the rim of the glass for a moment before trying to pick the conversation back up again.

“So why is Finn not here?” Murphy asks, reaching for his water. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“Work.” she replies shortly, focusing on the wine glass, the reflections it makes through the glass.

“And what was the occasion?” he asks, voice quieting. Her hand goes still.

“Why did I allow such a nosy asshat to sit down and have a meal with me?” she retorts, glaring at him. He puts his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t ask me. I’m still shocked they let me in here,” he crosses his arms.

She scoffs.

“So why did you allow me to sit here and eat with you?” he asks, curious. She frowns, her heart sinking and her chest closing up.

“I…” she stops, forcing herself to look at him. “I feel like I know you,” she breathes, and he’s immediately engrossed in what she has to say, “I feel so comfortable around you, like I’ve known you forever,” she confesses, “even though you’re kind of greasy and snarky,” she says, gaining back her confidence after such a surprising confession.

He scoffs, looking out the window, “So are you, Reyes,” he replies. She reaches across the table and punches his shoulder. He winces, pulling back with a look of astonishment. “Hey!” he says, and she starts to laugh again.

“That’s all you have to say? Not, ‘Hey Raven, you gorgeous, beautiful angel, I agree. I like hanging out with you. I want to be friends too even though you don’t know me at all!’ Huh?” She crosses her arms on the table as he gazes at her. There’s a storm behind his eyes.

“Yeah, you don’t want to.” he huffs in reply, looking back out the window. The motion makes her want to roll her eyes.

“God you’re so dramatic,” she says, reaching for her glass and bringing it to her lips again, changing the direction of the conversation, “so John Murphy,” she says, which catches his attention, “why not?” She takes a sip, licking her lips after she’s done drinking. She watches his gaze, seeing his eyes trained on her lips. He swallows hard.

“What do you mean, why not?” he frowns.

“I mean, why don’t I want to know you?” she asks, running her thumb along her bottom lip, averting her eyes to the window to gaze outside.

“You’re funny,” he laughs, “you think I’m just going to unload all my deepest darkest secrets to you over a glass of the finest fucking wine I’ve ever had in my life?” he takes a sip and she almost spits out the wine in her mouth. She sets her glass down and wipes her mouth. Her eyes move around the room. No one has heard their swearing so far-- they must be caught up in their actual, probably completely normal, love lives, she thinks.

“I didn’t think wine was really your style,” she says, and he just stares right through her.

“Oh? So you think I’m just a cheap six pack of beer on a Friday night kinda guy?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” a cackle comes out of her throat, “but if the shoe fits…”

His frown deepens, brows furrowing as he glares at the table, “What? You don’t think I take a bottle of Cabernet Blanc to Bellamy’s house for Sunday football?”

She blurts out another laugh, “A Caber-what?”

“God, you’re mean.”

“Bite me.” she says, shaking her head. Raven reaches for the wine again. “So why not?” she asks, leaning back in her chair.

“What?” He lifts his head up, staring at her.

“Why not?” she repeats, but he doesn’t seem to be catching on, “Why not unload those secrets? There’s no reason not to.”

His face goes dark, eyes shifting from her to the window. Suddenly the people outside the restaurant are much more interesting than their conversation. She watches him realize that she won’t give in, no matter how long he stays silent. It takes a minute or so for him to formulate a reply.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re getting into.” he replies quietly. She shrugs, waiting for a real answer. He seems to realize this, and lifts his glass, closing his eyes and drinking until there’s nothing left. She raises a brow as he sets his glass down, leaving it empty. He looks her in the eyes.

“How about this? No deep dark shit, just facts. Like uh, on a dating website. Job, interests, that kinda crap. Then we can get deeper if you’re still interested, if you still wanna be friends.” She nods, agreeing to the deal and finding his dating website comparison very funny, “I tell you something, then you tell me something along the same lines. Like if I say, I’m single, you say you’re dating someone. Got it?”

She shrugs, “Sure, fine. I just want to know the juicy stuff,” she jokes, but he doesn’t laugh. Raven tugs at her sleeves and leans forward, hanging on the words he hasn’t said yet.

“Okay.” he says with a huff, “First layer of the onion that is John Murphy, that would be me, is that I didn’t go to college. Went right into the army as soon as I was eighteen. Stayed in, active duty, for two years. Got hurt, got discharged, recovered, and then at the ripe old age of twenty-one I became a police officer. And as you and see, that went just as planned.”

She stirs her wine, letting it all soak in. “How’d you get hurt?” she asks, the sounds of the restaurant feeling like they might suffocate her.

“Friendly fire,” he straightens his utensils in front of him, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, “I was lucky to survive.”

Raven taps her fingers on the table. “Alright.” There’s no “I’m sorry” or “I’m glad you’re alive.” Just, “Alright.”

Murphy blinks slowly, but then she speaks up, “After high school I went to engineering school. Just graduated last may from Tech,” she takes a sip of wine, motioning for him to refill her glass, “Bachelors in mechanical engineering, double minoring in Spanish and business,” she swallows, “Now I work at Nygel’s because that’s been my dream since I was little and my mom took me there every weekend…” she takes a long drink, glancing around to make sure she’d go uninterrupted. Murphy’s eyes are alert, drawn in by her serious, quiet tone, “Four months ago I came home to find my boyfriend,” his eyes gleam, “my real boyfriend,” Murphy laughs, “in bed with some other girl.” his smile vanishes.

He doesn’t seem surprised. “I told you--” he starts.

She shoots him a glare, “Yeah. I’m too good for him.” She takes a swig of her wine again, smacking her lips and closing her eyes, “That’s what everyone says. And I know it.”

He pauses, “Okay. My mom was an alcoholic and my dad died in prison,” he says, and she looks up to met his gaze, “Hey, we’re swapping sob stories. I didn’t start this depressing bullshit, you did.” he laughs, pointing at her. She huffs in amusement.

“Mine too,” she says, “my mom, I mean. She worked corners too, sometimes. Sold drugs, anything to get by.”

Again, Murphy doesn’t seem surprised. “Mine blamed me for my father’s death.”

“Tough.”

He shrugs, “I’ve survived the accusation, somehow.” He fills their glasses, and with perfect timing, Monty brings over their appetizer.

“Are you ready for entrees?” he asks sweetly. Murphy looks at her to speak.

“Um… I think we’ll just be ordering dessert to go after this,” she says in a near-whisper. Monty nods and says he’ll be back.

Murphy reaches across the table and takes a cheesestick, biting into it and making a surprised face. “Oh mah gaw--” he says, wolfing the rest of it down. Raven covers her mouth with her hand. He swallows, “This is the best fucking cheese stick I have ever had in my entire life--”

“Too used to the frozen kind?” she asks, lifting her glass.

“Fuck you,” he chokes out. Murphy lifts his fist, hitting his chest as the rest of the cheese stick goes down his throat.

“To survivors?” she says, and he sighs.

“I’ll toast to that.” the glasses clink and he starts to drink. She drinks too, because she doesn’t feel hungry anymore. They set their glasses down together, and the noise sparks a giggling fit on Raven’s end. her shoulders bob up and down and she leans over the table, shoulders quivering, vibrating with her laughter. Murphy throws his head back, his own shoulders going up and down. His laugh is like winter. It’s harsh and barren, blows through her like a cold wind, but beautiful just the same. She catches her breath, crossing one knee over the other. He lays back on the chair for a moment, silent. Raven watches his chest rise and fall, his throat tense and relax as he swallows.

“The other day when Bellamy asked you out, he didn’t mean it,” Murphy says, straightening back up and reaching for another cheese stick.

“Really?” she asks, though not really interested. She can feel the buzz from the wine starting to get to her head, because the more she stares at him the more she can imagine him bringing here here for real, holding her hand and asking about her past without looking uncomfortable, without being afraid.

“He’s trying to get over this crush he has with this girl-- he’s into blondes.”

Raven sips her drink, “That’s Finn’s type too,” she says, and Murphy lets out an explosive laugh. Raven can’t help but to laugh too.

In the middle of their amusement, Monty comes back over, and Murphy digs into his wallet, pulling out a few twenties and handing them to the waiter, “Keep it all,” he says, and Monty’s eyes widen, “I need to get her home before she drinks any more.” Raven bites her lip, thinking about another implication that phrase might have, and smiles when Murphy stands up and puts his jacket on, signaling for her to follow.

“Sir, you realize this is much more than your bill, even with the wine--”

“Yeah, it’s cool Monty, that’s your name right?” he says as Raven stands. Murphy slips his arm around her, sending a chill down her spine. It’s a bit like revenge, she tells herself, if Finn can cheat and ditch her on their night out, she can let herself feel special when a friend (is that what they were?) puts his arm around her waist. His hand rests on her hip as they shuffle to the exit, “Thanks so much, man,” Murphy is saying, and in a few seconds they're on the outside.

They start walking in no direction in particular, his arm still around her waist and her shoulder bumping his chest every few steps.

“Can we walk to your apartment?” Murphy asks.

“Fuck no,” she says, her voice a little slurred. God, she was a lightweight.

“Well how about we walk to mine, and I can call someone to pick you up?” he replies.

“You don’t want to have a sleepover?” she breathes, turning her face so her breath is running against his neck. He seems to notice because he comes to a stop and pulls his arm off of her. She whines, but understands.

“Okay, okay,” she says, pushing him forward by one shoulder, “call me an Uber and take me to your lair.” He looks back at her, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling.

“It’s not as exciting as you might think.” They begin to walk forward again, and Raven speaks up.

“So you were a police officer?” the night is quiet and bright around them, the streetlights and lampposts keeping the sidewalk illuminated as they travel.

“Not for long.” he breathes, looking at his feet, frowning at each step.

“Why?”

“Don’t do teamwork,” he says, and she remembers this from before, “don’t like taking orders. Don’t like being told what I am. Don’t like losing friends.” His eyes don’t move when he says this, but hers are immediately locked on his face.

“Accident?”

“Every once in awhile a good cop dies. Should have been me,” he says with a chuff, “I was a bad cop. Didn’t do what my boss told me to do, so my partner got in trouble. Got into a hairy situation. He ended up dead.”

Raven swallows.

“Accidents happen. It just works out that way sometimes. Got re-paired up with Bellamy, but he moved up the chain, and here I am, walking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on home and she’s already taken.” He looks at her with a smirk, so she punches his shoulder.

“You’re disgusting,” she says, and he shrugs. A few more steps and her feet are sore, but she doesn't mind it, not as long as she’s walking beside him. He pulls out his phone, sending a message, requesting a car, probably. The phone slips back into his pocket. “I don’t like taking orders either,” she whispers, but he hears her, “I don’t like being told who I am or what to do.” He looks up at her, slows his pace. “I get blamed for a lot of things I don’t do, and I take it because I love my family.” Murphy comes to a stop, glancing up at the building. They’re here, but she finishes her statement, “When Finn cheated, my mother told me it was my fault for not giving him what he wanted. When my mother got caught with weed on parol, I pretended it was mine. Sometimes I think I deserve it.”

He leans forward then, hand poised as if he’s going to reach for her face and pull her into a kiss. He slowly pulls away. She doesn’t want him to, but tells herself these feelings are just stirring inside her because she’s drunk.

“You don’t deserve it.” he breathes, running his hand over her arm and linking his forefinger with her pinky, drawing her in. The connection is electric, her skin is buzzing. She looks up at him, fingers trembling and heart pounding hard in her chest, roaring in her ears. She wants him to lean down, press his mouth to hers, then pull her upstairs and into his dark apartment. Raven feels her chest squeeze tight. With her eyes, she urges him to do it, but he just smiles, whispers something under his breath about “letting destiny run it’s course.”

A car pulls up behind them, the sound of the brakes screeching causing her to lose focus. She tugs her hand away from his, severing the connection.

“You looked lovely tonight,” there’s regret written all over his face. She nods, quickly stepping forward and kissing his cheek.

“Thanks for being my fake date. And thanks for not running away when you heard my horrible sob story.” He smiles, lifting one shoulder.

“Thanks for letting me be your fake date and letting me listen to your sob story.” She nods and opens the door to the car, sliding into the seat and giving him one final wave. It’s like deja vu, she thinks on the ride home, he looked like he wanted to say something more.

In the morning she finds a slip of paper in her purse with his name and number, signed “if you ever need a frend.” She cackles at the writing error, but cheerfully puts his number into her phone and sends him a text. And then another. And another. Until texting him is all she does, until waiting for his replies is what she lives for, until she figures out he’s the best friend she’s ever had, even if he never speaks his mind.

The bag is warm against her hand, her jacket is thrown over her arm and her wallet is between her teeth as she struggles to get her key into the lock. She was supposed to work tonight on some project for Nygel, but her boss had been merciful for once. And for once, she was being romantic. Bringing Finn his favorite takeout as a surprise. Things had been rough between the two of them in the last few months. After she found out he had slept with someone else while she was away at college, she was devastated to say the least. (Actually, devastated doesn't even cover the spectrum of emotions she went through, feelings felt. Angry, blindsided, tortured, depressed, afraid, shocked, infuriated, betrayed…)

As the door swings open, she recalls a phrase, ‘too good.’ She knew she was too good for him, but she’d always tried to rationalize it. She pushes the door closed behind her as she enters the dark apartment, humming in contentment as she places the food on the kitchen table and tossing her things, her jacket and her backpack, onto the floor. Raven closes her eyes and stretches, hearing someone shuffling around in the bedroom. When she opens her eyes, Finn is walking from the room, shirtless, eyes glued to the floor and footsteps light.

“Hey babe,” Raven says with a smile, her chest blooming at the sight of him. But her heart sinks when his head jerks up to see her and he looks surprised. No, not surprised, afraid. She swallows, seeing him glance back into the room behind him, and then towards her.

Her fists curl.

“No.” she says, starting to laugh. It’s forced, because she’s scared. She’s scared he’s done it again. She’s scared that she’ll go into the room and find another girl sleeping on her side of the bed, probably wearing one of Finn’s shirts, probably soaked in the afterglow of sex she should have never even thought of having with someone else’s boyfriend.

“No, no, no, no, no,” she sputters out, her laugh turning into a tight noise that resembles the word she’d just been chanting. (In her head she tries to convince herself that he was about to propose and she’d walked in as he was setting the scene, she tries to convince herself her birthday surprise is in that room, exposed because he was wrapping it up for her. Neither of those scenarios make sense, though. Finn and her decided marriage wasn’t what they wanted, and her birthday wasn’t for months. She knows the truth, despite her best efforts to convince herself otherwise.)

Her hands are trembling. It's hard to catch her breath, and she tries, but the air seems to be slipping out of her lungs faster than she can reel it back in.

She can hear her name escaping Finn's lips over and over, saying words that used to calm her down, but now only ignite that fire of anger inside her. She picks up her bag from the floor and snatches up her jacket, storming towards the door. Finn runs to catch her before she can get there, blocking her from the exit with his body. (She can see a hickey forming on his collar. What lie was he going to tell her that night? How was he planning on covering this up?)

"Ray--"

"You know. I was willing to forgive you. For sleeping with someone else while I was away. I'm that kind of girl-- that stupid," she hisses, back arched forward, brows laced tight at the center of her face, "but sleeping with another one," she spits, "after I'm back? After I’m halfway moved in with you? Knowing full well I could walk in at any moment, knowing full well I was hanging onto that last string of hope that you actually loved me," he tries to interject,

"Raven-- I do love you--"

She hits him, open palm across his cheek. The sound of the smack reverberates through the apartment.

"Not the way I deserve to be loved."

He stumbles away from the door, and as Raven steps out of the room she catches a glimpse of the girl. She’s blonde, shorter than Finn, face aflame with an anger Raven knew herself. As her legs carry her away, she can hear another woman's voice behind her, shrill and angry, screaming, "You have a fucking girlfriend? You have a--"

She slams the door behind her and rushes out of the building as fast as she can, her chest squeezing tighter and tighter until she starts to go numb. Raven can barely feel the tears streaming down her face as she starts to sprint down the street, down paths she used to find familiar but are not just dark roads leading somewhere better than here, no matter the direction.

When she starts to get lost, she begins to think. Names, faces flash before her eyes. Where can she go? Work is locked up by now and her keys to her old apartment are back at Finn's. Bellamy is probably working, and he has no use for her when he's still head over heels for that (Clarke, someone had said her name was) blonde  girl.

Her mind continues down this path. Perhaps Wick, her new coworker. Predictable. A rebound fuck with the cute engineer is something Finn wouldn't be hurt by, and frankly something he would expect. But what would he not expect?

Raven stops in her tracks and reverses her track, trying to navigate her way to a very particular place in the dark.

This is unfair, she thinks as she climbs the stairs to his apartment, this is cruel, he obviously likes me. He obviously sees something Finn is, was blind to. She swallows her sobs and knocks on the door. She wants to feel wanted, but she doesn't want to feel.

Murphy opens the door, squinting his eyes at her and rubbing the fatigue off his face. His brows lift and his jaw goes slack.

"Are you okay?" She doesn't expect this to be his first question. She thinks "why are you here?" or "do you know what time it is?" are more appropriate. Ignoring his question, she shoves him back and closes the door behind her with her foot, immediately shedding her bag and starting to unbutton her shirt.

Instead of looking alarmed, he looks on with concern, reaching forward and grasping her wrist, stopping her.

"Raven," the sound of her first name on his tongue is a stab to the heart, "what's wrong?"

Her breath is shaky. "I need a favor," she pants, and his hand falls from hers. A look of understanding passes over his face, and he takes a step back.

"Raven," he says carefully, but she presses forward, tugging at the buttons once more.

"I need you," she says, (almost stopping there) "to do this for me."

He swallows, his eyes moving from her eyes to her chest as she tugs the flannel shirt off her shoulders and it falls quietly on the floor. He stands very still as she moves closer to him, so slowly, so carefully, until her chest is against his and she can feel his breath ghosting against her lips.

He tilts his head, eyes flicking from her lips to her eyes and back again, "I could never say no to you." he breathes before sinking onto her lips, his hand moving to cradle her head and his other touching her cheek. She did her best not to comment on his answer, not to tell him just how weird it was that his statement made so much sense, sounded so familiar when they were breaching such foreign waters. He kissed her again, more fervently, and she closed her eyes and sighed, finally able to breathe. The kiss is so gentle, but so powerful. It seemed to be filled with thousands of years of pent up emotion, and once they touched, it all fell apart.

She pushed his shirt over his head as they stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. "This doesn't mean anything," she whispers, almost hoping he doesn't hear it, (because it does mean something, it means breaking Finn, it means feeling loved, it means becoming new) but he does.

"I know." he responds, working at his belt as he kisses her collar.

"I'm just using you," she says, the truth out in the open. She looks him in the eyes briefly to make sure he knows.

"I know." he says, kicking off his jeans and pulling her down over him, and when she closes her eyes, all feelings of guilt of hesitation disappear, and she falls so sweetly, and so slowly into him.

When it's over she lays beside him, coated in a thin sheen of sweat, heart pulsating at a speed unknown to her. His breathing is unsteady, back still arched as if he's still feeling the roll of her hips colliding against his, the grip of her hands in his slick brown hair. She forces her eyes away from his body, instead focusing on the spinning patterns on the ceiling. Her teeth tug viciously at her bottom lip, so hard she thinks if she goes any harder she might draw blood.

Her eyelids start to fall, but she inhales sharply, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She won't be falling asleep beside him, even though his warm, lumpy mattress is appealing, especially if it meant he was curled around her, but she has her own bed to sleep in, another body to be missing.

Despite what her brain is telling her, she wants to turn around and face him, tell him things she isn't even certain she's actually thinking. Like that when he touches her she feels her heart jump to her throat, higher than it's ever been, that his fingers fit better in between hers than Finn's ever did. Like that when he kisses her body she feels like she's burning, on fire in every place his lips lay claim to. Like when she's here, pressed against his body, she wonders why she thought she belonged anywhere else to begin with.

She pulls her pants up around her hips and glances over her shoulder, even though her brain is screaming for her not to. He's looking at her, arm stretched out across the place she'd just been resting. His eyes are gathering her up, brows furrowed just enough to give him a curious look, but not curious enough to verbalize a question.

She swallows hard and tugs her shirt over her head, fighting the strong urge to jump right back into his arms, slip under the covers and close her heavy eyes.

It's magnetic, the connection between them. And he knows it. (Knew it.) And she knows it. And now she's letting it go.

Raven makes her way towards his front door, hearing him as he quietly gets out of bed and walks towards the bathroom.

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out, Reyes." He calls, slamming the bathroom door once he's inside. She winces at his words. They cut through her like knives. But she slides out of the apartment as the shower turns on. She closes the door softly, as if she'd break it if she slammed too hard. A sigh escapes her, and Raven rests her forehead against the door.

She's overthinking it. He'll get over it. She was honest at the start, he knew how it would end.

Raven stumbles down the stairs with uneven steps, and slips into the night without a sound, feeling that magnetic pull get weaker and weaker by the second.

She doesn’t give into it, the pull, until two weeks later. Fourteen days (fourteen days of agony, fourteen days of silence from his end of the phone, though she doesn’t make much of an effort either, fourteen days of waking up at three in the morning coated in sweat with his name on her tongue, fourteen days of scrolling through their texts in hopes to completely erase what happened) too many pass before she sees him again. She’s tipsy, like the first time she felt the pull between them, standing at his door with a bottle of red wine. It’s cheaper than the first one they shared, but she’s hoping it will help to bridge the gap. The gap she put between them. By having sex with him. As a rebound from Finn.

Her knock on the door is hesitant. The last time she was here, her knock was more insistent. She doesn’t want the outcome of this visit to be the same as the last. Except, maybe some parts of it. She groans to herself, placing her forehead on the door with a sigh of defeat.

But then the door moves and she stumbles back, grasping the bottle with two shaky hands. His head emerges from the crack in the doorway, only half of him visible behind the barrier between them.

“Hey,” she whispers cautiously, standing up straight and trying to keep her breathing steady.

He looks suspicious. “What do you want?” he asks sharply, looking at the bottle in her hands. “Came to drunk me up so you can fuck--”

“Murphy,” she groans, stepping forward and shoving her way through the door, pushing past him into his dark apartment. He makes a noise of protest, but closes the door behind her anyways. She sets the bottle down on the table, making sure the ‘clank’ of the glass against the wood is loud, and she turns to him, hands on her hips and heart beating loudly in her ears.

“What Raven?” he says, exasperated.

“You knew what I was doing,” her voice is getting louder by the moment, “I told you, I was upfront, and you’re still mad--”

“Yeah but you knew too, Raven,” he hisses, throwing his arms out to his side, “you knew what kind of whack shit you were doing to my mind!”

“I didn’t ask to be cheated on!” she screams.

“Then why did you go back to him after the first time?” he shouts back, “Because if you’d just stayed away, neither of us would be here right now! I’d be fine without you!”

His words cause a shooting pain to ripple up her spine. She stumbles backwards, her thighs hitting his table, making the bottle to wobble.

“I loved him--”

“And I didn’t ask to be used, either, Raven,” he yells, a hand buried into his hair, tugging it back as he paces in frustration.

“Murphy, god dammit, just listen to me! Can you listen? For once in your life, can you just shut the fuck up--”

“I can’t listen to you! I can’t listen to anything that comes out of your mouth because no matter what you say I--” he stops himself, throwing his back against his door and closing his eyes.

“What, Murphy? What? You just talk, talk, talk like you know shit but you don’t!”

“I do!”

“Like how to be a fuck up, that’s all you know,” she blurts, “like how to trick me into, into believing that you cared for me, and then just-- God!” she bends over, chest to her knees.

“You’re being a bitch.” he growls.

“Yeah? Well fuck you.” she squeezes her eyes tight.

“You already did!”

She comes at him, swinging her fitsts and pushing him back into the wall. He holds her off well, but she manages to clip his face and bust his lip. Blood is trickling down his chin when he finally has a hold of her wrists, holding her at arm’s length.

“What is with you?” she screams, “You say things that don’t make sense! You hide things from me! And when I’m being completely honest with you, you get mad, when I’m the one who you’re screwing over all this time,” she struggles to get out of his grasp, but he stands firm. A bruise is already starting to form on the side of his lip that she hit.

“Raven, you’re being an idiot,” he breathes. She feels tears running down her face and her arms stop struggling to get away. She stands perfectly still, only her shoulders trembling to signal that she’s crying.

“You should have said that the first time I came over.” she huffs, taking a step forward and pressing her chest to his. She rests her forehead on his shoulder, sobs taking over her body. His hands slide from her wrists to her back, one palm cradling her head while the other arm wraps itself around her waist. He holds her tight until she feels her lips ghosting over his throat, running up to his jaw and tracing his chin towards his lips.

“No,” he says as she draws closer, “no, no, no, no, no.” he pushes her away. Raven steps back, reaching up to wipe her tears away as she scowls at him. “You talk about listening but you’re not hearing a word I’m saying,” he huffs, pushing off the wall and going towards the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair and slumps down into it, leaning on his elbows that now rest on his knees.

“So make it clear for me, John.” she says, backing up to the wall where he just stood, placing her back against it and training her eyes on him.

“You hurt me.” he states, “You hurt me, and I know, I know I’ll forgive you. It’s already forgiven--”

“So what’s the issue?” she interrupts. He silences her with a glare.

“When you came over here the other night, you showed up at my door, not because you cared about me, not because you wanted to do that with me, not because you wanted something more, but because you knew that I would let you do it. You knew that I’d do that with you because I care, because I’m the one wrapped around your finger.”

She swallows, her hands trembling.

“And when you said you were using me? That was a lie too, or at least I told myself it was,” he says, eyes distant, “because I know for goddamn sure you feel something for me too. Whether or not you know it yet-- you do. I have to believe it.”

“What compels you to even suggest that?” she asks, “You always seem to know this or know that. You knew me before we met, you know I love you--” she stops abruptly. He looks at her with a familiar smirk.

“I just know you, Raven.” he says, eyes softening under her gaze.

She feels cold to the very core, “Why? How?” she asks, turning and pressing her shoulder against the wall, watching his movements. He looks distressed, his shoulders hunched and his fingers restless.

“Because of that connection we have,” he says with a far-off smile, “you know you feel it,” she looks at him with narrowed eyes, “that sort of pull that makes you feel like you’ve known me your whole life?” he asks.

She nods.

“I can’t… explain it. But that’s it. And that connection?” she looks at him, “That’s it. That’s all it was for me. That string that ties us together, that’s all it took for me to fall. And I’ve been waiting that somewhere along the way the string would tighten, and you’d have to fall too.”

Raven feels her knees weaken. “I’m…”

He looks up at her expectantly.

“I am falling.”

He stands, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

She knows what comes next. He shows her out, sends her home. They don’t talk for years, and one day he brings his car into the shop and they joke about old times. But that’s not the plan, that’s not what she wants. So she’s going to change it, change the future she sees.

Before he can make it over to her she rushes to the table and grabs the bottle, making her way to the center of the living room and plopping down onto the rug. She pulls out the cork in a single try, and starts to chug. Like expected, he grabs the bottle from her, and shockingly barely any of the wine gets on the floor or on her shirt. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and looks over to see him sitting down beside her, cross legged and drinking straight from the bottle. He can’t even look her in the eyes, so he just drinks until he’s had enough, and then passes it back to her.

“When you almost kissed me outside this building after our restaurant date,” she says, inhaling the sweet scent of cheap wine and the faint smell of Murphy’s even cheaper cologne, “I felt like I was going to cry. Not only because I wanted you to and you didn’t, but because I couldn’t bring myself to kiss you first.”

She hears him sigh, and he grabs the bottle out of her hand, taking another drink before handing it back. “You were still with Finn. You still could be with Finn, I have no idea--”

“Fuck that guy,” she says, tossing back another few gulps, “he’s alone now. Unless that blonde chick decided to take him back.” she says. The sound of that girl’s awful voice is still ingrained in the back of her mind. Murphy scoffs. There’s a silence. She twirls the bottle in her hands. “I fell out of love with him after the first time…” she breathes, staring at the dirty patterns in the rug beneath them, “and I started falling for you when you came into the shop to get your oil changed. Even if you were a little creepy.” she glances at him to see if he’d react. He doesn’t, just continues staring into empty space.

“So he likes blondes, huh?” he asks, his words starting to slur as he reaches for the bottle and takes another sip. “Plan: shove a dirty mop up his ass. That’s like the same thing, right?” he finally looks at her, the tension between them fading away.

“You’re gross,” she says, leaning her shoulder against his. The touch sends electric pulses through her body, causes her toes to curl and her heart to flutter.

“I’m not the one who used my best friend for sex.” he says, his tone light. She huffs.

“I’m gross, I know. And you’re gross.” she glances at him, making eye contact briefly, “let’s be gross together?” Her head slips onto his shoulder. He shifts so his arm sits behind her, his head resting gently on hers.

“You don’t know it yet, but your grossness is hitched to my grossness for all of eternity,” he breathes.

“When will I know it?” she asks, giving up on trying to figure these sort of comments out.

“After I’m dead, probably.” he says, shrugging her off his shoulder. She sits up, looking around for some sort of clock.

“So I showed up, beat the shit out of you, confessed my love, got drunk, and now…?”

“And now it’s time for bed,” he says, standing and reaching down to pull her up. She takes his hand, wobbling forward and pressing against him once she’s on her feet.

“Is that an invitation?” she breathes, leaning into him and pressing her lips to his ear. He holds on like he isn’t going to let go, but he does, and he pushes her towards the door.

“No.” he grunts. She drags her feet out the door, handing on to the handle once she’s in the hallway. She looks up and down the hall, hoping no one on this floor had to endure the sounds of the extreme events that just played out in such a short amount of time. “Next time you come over,” he breathes, leaning in close so that their noses touch. Her face lights up in a brilliant red color, her hands looking for something to grasp onto for dear life, “it’s going to be real.” he says, brushing his lips over hers. She closes her eyes.

“If last time wasn’t real, I’m scared to know just how good the real thing is,” she jokes, nudging him in the chest with her elbow. He smirks, backing into his apartment with a nod.

“See ya ‘round, Reyes. Don’t be a stranger.”

She bites her bottom lip, watching as the opening in the door gets smaller and smaller.

“I love you too,” she breathes after the door is closed and she’s backed all the way into the opposite wall. She takes a few minutes to collect herself, and then she travels down the elevator and into the street, and with the biggest smile on her face she walks to the nearest bus stop and catches a ride home.

The next time she comes over, it’s during the day, and their most recent conversation is the last thing on her mind. She screams to him about her “stupid merciless asshole” landlord who wouldn’t let her renew her rent, and now she has nowhere to stay. He leans against his kitchen counter, looking all around, eyes landing on the couch.

“Hey… My couch unfolds. You could sleep here.” he says, smiling at her when she explodes again, telling him “If I sleep here, it’s not gonna be on the couch, it’s going to be in the bed with your ugly ass spooning her, and that’s beside the point, all my shit has to go somewhere--”

He glares at her to shut her up.

“Want me to forgive you for what happened?”

“You already have.”

“Fair point, but if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll move in. If you want,” his face goes red, “until you can find somewhere to go.”

Her jaw drops, and suddenly her arms are wrapped around his neck and she jumping in the air. He swings her around as she thanks him verbally, then with her mouth on his, then on the way to her apartment, where she thanks him again with her mouth, and thousands of times in the car until they’re back at his place with all her boxes (a total of thirty-eight of them) and they’re both sitting on the floor, passing a Diet Coke between the two of them, staring at the mile-high pile of boxes sitting in his kitchen.

And that’s where they stay for the next few weeks. Where she sleeps definitely becomes a problem, especially after certain activities that have become increasingly regular, because it feels almost wrong to sleep in the same bed afterwards. (Wrong in a way she can’t verbally describe. It’s too tempting to just fall asleep, and in an effort to change the call of this connection they say they have, she tries other things before falling into the inevitable)

Raven tries out sleeping on the pullout couch, but his living room is much too cold. So then she tries sleeping in Murphy’s bed with him on the couch, which doesn’t quite feel right either, because when she’s sleeping she’s surrounded by him, his smell, his things, his noises, without his actual presence. Then they try sleeping together in his bed, but the wound on his lip gets reopened because Raven never stops punching and kicking in her sleep and Murphy is just as restless, but much less violent. In a last ditch effort to figure things out, they switch sides of the bed, and for the first time in weeks they finally get some rest.

In the morning, he kisses her neck to wake her up, then her back as she’s getting ready, then her head before she leaves, but not her face, and never her lips unless something else is going on. Neither of them quite understand the boundaries they have with each other, until one afternoon a few months into this sleeping arrangement she barges into the apartment, slings her bag down onto the flour, and starts pouring out her boxes onto the couch and onto the table.

He comes out of the bathroom, struggling to get dressed quickly enough to stop her from making an even bigger mess. But no matter how loud he screams, she won’t stop, until finally, after the thirty eighth box is empty and crushed on the floor does she stop to take a breath.

She looks up at him with the broadest and smuggest of smiles, and grabs his face, pulling him down for a hard kiss to the mouth.

“What the f--”

“Today, I got a pay raise, and that car body I’ve been working on is finally done, and Finn blocked me on Facebook and Instagram, and Nygel-- Nygel called you my boyfriend and I just,” she shakes him, “I just wanted it to be real.”

She lets go of him and gestures to the piles of things on the floor.

“So help me pick this shit up because I’m here to stay.”

He gapes at the mess and returns to the bathroom, claiming he has to get ready for work, which leaves her to pick of her things in thoughtful silence, knowing he’s just as happy as she is that she’s claimed this place to be hers.

Claimed him to be hers as well.

When the mess is cleared and they’re making their way to bed, she looks at him long and hard. They go through the motions like they’d been together for years, lived together even longer. Their routine is precise, their understanding of each other’s needs evident before the other even knows they need something. It’s strange, what they have. It’s like all of time and space is colliding when they touch, and the Earth breaking wide open when they fall apart. But she loves it. She craves every minute of it, drinks him like water, breathes him like air, even when they spew venom at each other, even when they hurt each other with their words, she loves it. She loves him.

He’s in bed first, usually, because he doesn’t take long to get ready for bed. He’s turning off the lights when she slips under the covers.

“I have something to tell you.” he breathes into her hair as she curls around him, arm wrapping around her back and head resting beside hers. She grunts in response, because she doesn't want to move, but she doesn’t want him to think she’s not listening. “You’re going to think I’m insane.” he says with an airy laugh. Raven knows this must be important, but after the exhausting day she’s had, she wishes he’d started talking sooner.

She shifts, sitting up on her elbows and looking at him, “I already do.” She slumps back down and closes her eyes, promising herself she won’t fall asleep.

“You know how I sometimes write… stories.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, “in your journal or whatever. I haven’t seen it in a while. Got a new one?”

“Yeah… Kind of. So... after we die,” he starts to run his fingernails over her back lightly, causing her to moan softly in satisfaction, “we get… channeled into a new life. A new universe, I guess you could say.” She’s starting to fall asleep, both of them know it. Murphy smiles, though. He’s had this conversation with her a thousand times. “Some people believe that certain important people in our lives remain there… like beacons in every life. Soul mates, people call them.” Raven grunts again in response, because she’s following the idea, but she don’t know how long she’ll be able to stay conscious for the rest of it.“You’re mine,” he whispers, closing his own eyes.

She’s thinking about how beautiful it is, when she falls asleep, but he keeps talking, keeps telling her, “You don’t remember it,” tears are welling in his eyes, tears she won’t see, “but I’ve lived a hundred lifetimes with you, a thousand, maybe more,” he tugs her closer, pressing his nose to her head and inhaling deeply, “and only a few have I ever been able to do this.” he kisses her forehead, pulling away and staring up at the ceiling. “Like remember when we first met, and I told you I’d seen you on Finn’s phone?” she doesn't answer, of course, so he finishes the thought, “I was lying. I’d known you from the past, the future, the other worlds…” he stops to breathe, finding that it was much more difficult than anticipated. “And I lied when I told you I fell for you when we first met. It was long before then, even when I hated you, even when I wanted to kill you or you wanted to kill me…” he swallows, “and sometimes other people follow us. Bellamy’s in a few of our lives, Clarke too, but you don’t like her in this life. Monty, our waiter, is usually one of your closest friends. And I… well sometimes we can’t even call each other acquaintances.” he pauses, “in other lives… we have different names, different ages, different time zones…

“Sometimes I hurt you,” he whispers quieter, “and sometimes I never even meet you. And sometimes, we hate each other… but that’s okay. At least I know you feel for me,” he starts to laugh again, but the sound is much more hollow, “but in this lifetime, I could not have ever been more happy, more thankful…”

She stirs, only to hear him say, “I love you...” and quickly falls right back into her peaceful slumber.

A few years later, there’s an accident. They happen sometimes, he would say. She can almost hear his voice telling her this exact thing the day she finds out. Nothing brings these things on, nothing provokes them, he would say with a shrug. They just occur in random order. It’s a fact.

Bellamy gives her the news, letting her press her cheek to his chest as he slips an envelope into her arms, along with a journal she can recognize as one of Murphy’s. When the funeral is over (it’s a short ceremony. Neither of his parents are living, and he has no siblings, so she has to make the arrangements. She makes sure the preacher says something short and sweet, quotes a history book about what lies ahead for everyone. Raven knows he’d hate it, but tells herself at least he’d like to see her with this black dress on) and after she’s said her goodbyes, she wraps herself in his bedsheets and opens the envelope.

“Onto our next adventure. - J. Murphy” it reads. His handwriting is awful, she thinks, but there’s a little heart at the corner of the page, colored in black. She laughs, wiping away tears she didn’t know were falling. How could he be so… him, even after death? She moves onto the book, opening it to the first page where her name is written neatly. It’s a surprise, because the the first few entries are dated many months before they ever met.

“To Raven: Tonight before you sleep, think of me, and you’ll remember.”

Cryptic, confusing, horribly written like it was in haste. Classic Murphy.

She flicks through the pages, finding dates, names of places, and names of people. In his chicken scratch writing are hundreds of stories, descriptions and horrible drawings. She begins to cry, for real this time, not just silly tears falling down her cheeks, but a real full-on weep. She can barely breathe as she flips to the last page where her name is written again.

“Raven, this is only the beginning. See you in the next one. Yours, J. Murphy.”

She flips back to the first page, trying to make sense of it all, (something she’d stopped doing while they were alive, but had the drive now that half of her was missing, now that her entire chest felt empty) where prologue of sorts appeared to be written.

“Imagine that reincarnation is real,” it begins, albeit with several spelling errors, “and you’re destined to be with someone, but sometimes things get in the way. Most of the time, they’re horrible things. Like, really bad things. Shitty, unimaginable, mortifying bad things. Imagine, though, that you are stuck in every life with memories of this person, your soulmate, but they can’t remember a thing. Imagine what it’s like to gaze into the eyes of your hero, your lover, your best friend, and they only know a fraction of what has happened between you and them. Imagine that you never know for sure if they love you back sometimes, or if they’ll ever remember. And most of the time, knowing her, my own mate you could say, you don’t know if she even loves you back. I just have to tell myself that she does, that she will. If not in this life but in the next...”

She falls asleep halfway through the journal, and when she dreams, she’s on the floor and his face is covered in blood and soot. He turns her on her side to breathe. He says something snarky, as expected, and there’s a sharp pain in her back and legs. He sits just beyond her reach, the feel of his touch lingering on her shoulder. He looks at her the way he looked at her in this life. He looks at her like nothing else matters. (blood turns to red wine, torn shirts turn to dress clothes, knives turn to wrenches, but they’re living the same thing over and over and over. she realizes this when she wakes and it feels like he’s still with her, still breathing and surviving and fighting.) And to him, besides her, nothing else does.