Chapter Text
Swann adjusted the camcorder in her hands, her fingers trembling against the worn-out grip. The summer heat pressed against Velvet Cove like an unspoken goodbye, cicadas humming in the distance as the golden hour wrapped the world in soft, honeyed light. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself.
Autumn sat on the hood of an old car behind the gas station, strumming her guitar absentmindedly. The melody was something soft, something unintentional, like she wasn’t playing for anyone but the wind. Swann had filmed her a hundred times—laughing, frowning, lost in thought—but this moment felt different. More fragile. More real.
"You’re staring," Autumn teased, flicking her gaze up with that signature smirk. Swann’s stomach flipped.
"Just framing the shot," Swann mumbled, angling the camera toward her.
Autumn laughed, shaking her head. "You don’t always have to be behind the camera, you know."
Swann swallowed hard. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She had always hidden behind something—her lens, her jokes, her silence. But not tonight. This was her last chance. Tomorrow, she’d be gone, off to Vancouver, and the weight of never saying anything was heavier than the fear of rejection.
She took a breath.
"Autumn, I—" Swann hesitated, her throat tightening. She bit her lip, exhaling through her nose before pressing on. "I like you."
Autumn stopped playing. The night stretched between them, endless and uncertain.
Swann rushed to fill the silence. "Not just as a friend. I mean—I really like you. And I know I should have said something sooner, but I—"
Autumn placed her hand on Swann’s, stopping her rambling. "Hey."
Swann looked up, her heart hammering.
"You’re an idiot," Autumn murmured, her voice softer now. A smile tugged at her lips, something caught between teasing and something… warmer. "You think I didn’t know?"
Swann blinked. "Wait—what?"
Autumn shook her head, setting her guitar aside. "You film me like I’m your favorite song," she said. "Like you’re scared of forgetting me."
Swann let out a breathless laugh, her grip tightening around the camcorder. "I am scared."
Autumn grinned, leaning in just enough that Swann could see the way her freckles mapped out constellations under the streetlight. "Then don’t forget me."
And just like that, she kissed her.
The camera, still rolling, captured the moment perfectly—the hush of the summer air, the fading sunset behind them, the soft press of lips before Swann melted into it. And for once, she wasn’t behind the camera.
She was exactly where she wanted to be.