Chapter Text
Angela and Amanda sat in silence in the smaller woman’s apartment. The air between them felt tight—too still, too quiet. Amanda had noticed Angela acting strange all evening: edgy, distracted, barely meeting her eyes. She didn’t push, just gave her the space to find the words.
Finally, Angela drained the last of her wine and turned toward her, shoulders tense. Her bottom lip trembled.
“I have to tell you something,” she said. “But you’re going to be mad.”
Amanda immediately straightened, worry flickering in her chest. “Honey, what is it? I promise I won’t be mad.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
Amanda reached out, gently placing a hand on Angela’s leg. “I love you. Nothing you can say will change that.”
Angela flinched at the words, then stood up so fast the couch creaked. “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, voice shaking, hiccuping through the admission.
Amanda blinked, frozen. “What… what did you say?”
“I’m so sorry,” Angela said, now crying in full—ugly, wet sobs spilling out of her. “But I’m in love with you. I’ve tried not to be, but I can’t help it.”
Amanda shot to her feet, voice rising with disbelief. “What the fuck! Why would you tell me that!?”
“Because I can’t keep it in anymore!” Angela cried out, her body shaking.
“I’m married!”
“I know.”
“I’m not gay!”
Angela gave a bitter, broken laugh through her tears. “Are you sure? Because some of the things we say to each other—do with each other—are pretty damn gay.”
Amanda’s expression twisted. “So that means you just decided it was okay to fall in love with me?” Her voice turned sharp, cruel, almost snarling. Angela recoiled at the tone, flinching like she’d been struck.
“Come on, Amanda,” Angela whispered, her voice crumbling. “You know that’s not how it works.”
But the fear in Amanda was louder than her empathy now. It was all too much. She felt herself losing control—slipping into the kind of words you can't take back.
“What do you expect me to do, huh? Leave my husband? Get a divorce? Uproot my entire life just because you caught feelings?”
“I don’t know what I expected,” Angela admitted, her voice small. “I guess I just thought if I told you, maybe I could finally let it go. Move on.”
She collapsed onto the couch, head down, staring at her trembling hands.
Amanda stood over her, arms crossed, heart pounding.
“So you decided to do the most selfish thing you could possibly do,” she said coldly. “You ruined everything.”
Angela looked up at her with tear-glossed eyes. “I… I love you,” she whispered, like it was the only truth she had left.
Amanda took a step back, shaking her head. “After this—this selfishness… I don’t know if I can even be around you anymore.”
Angela’s breath caught. “Please, Manda—”
“No.” Amanda’s voice cracked. “Stay away from me.”
She didn’t look back. The door slammed behind her, leaving Angela alone with nothing but the echo and the quiet, painful certainty that she would never recover from this.
They would never recover from this.
++++
Amanda stood in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone lukewarm. The quiet hum of the morning was shattered when Courtney strode in—sharp steps, sharper glare.
They marched straight to the table and dropped into a chair with a scowl, arms crossed tightly across their chest.
“Whatever you did, fix it,” they hissed.
Amanda blinked, startled. “What did I do?”
Courtney’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. But Angela hasn’t left her house—or ours—for days. And since she’s not with you , I’m guessing you did something.”
Amanda swallowed, trying to play it cool even though her heart was now beating uncomfortably fast. “We just had a fight. We’ll figure it out.”
It was a lie. She wasn’t sure they would.
Courtney didn’t look convinced. “So you don’t know, then?”
Amanda frowned. “Know what?”
With a heavy sigh, Courtney’s expression shifted—concern breaking through the anger. They studied Amanda for a long moment, then leaned forward on their elbows.
“Starkid is going on tour,” they said carefully. “And she’s going. For the entire tour. She leaves tomorrow.”
Amanda choked on her coffee, coughing violently before she managed to get a breath. “What do you mean?”
“She just talked to Ian. She’s getting her schedule sorted out. She’s already packing.”
Amanda’s world tilted slightly. “I—I didn’t know. I need to talk to her.”
She was already halfway to standing before Courtney’s hand clamped gently but firmly around her arm.
“No.”
Amanda froze. “Courtney—”
“No.” Courtney’s voice was low, but unyielding. “You are to leave her alone. I’m serious. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even look at her. She has one more shoot today, and then I’m helping her pack.”
Amanda sat down slowly, her whole body numb. “But I have to talk to her—”
“You broke something, Amanda,” Courtney said, their voice softer now, but no less firm. “Something broke in her. And I don’t know if she’ll be able to put herself back together if you don’t give her space.”
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I can fix this,” Amanda insisted, desperation rising in her throat.
Courtney shook their head. “No, you can’t . Not right now, at least.”
Amanda stood again, almost pleading now. “But she can’t leave.”
Courtney stood with her, pausing in the doorway. “She has to,” they said gently. “I don’t think she’ll survive this if she doesn’t.”
Amanda watched as Courtney walked out, leaving her alone in the kitchen, the echo of the conversation settling in her chest like concrete.
This is my fault, she thought. I was fooling myself thinking this wouldn’t happen— after what I said.
Courtney’s voice echoed once more from the hall, sharp and final:
“ Leave her alone. ”
And then the door shut.
Amanda knows what Courtney said.
Leave her alone.
She knows.
But that doesn’t stop her from slipping quietly into the back of the studio space where Angela and Shayne are mid-interview, lights blazing down on them, cameras rolling. She stays in the shadows, hidden from view, eyes locked on the woman she’s been trying not to think about for weeks—and failing.
Angela is laughing at something Shayne says, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her smile is brittle, practiced. The kind you wear when you're running on fumes. Even under the thick makeup, Amanda can see the dark circles beneath her eyes, the limpness in her hair, the way her body seems to hold itself together with sheer will.
Oh, Ange...
She watches for only a few minutes before the guilt becomes unbearable, a weight in her chest that crushes her lungs. She leaves quietly, unnoticed, and tries to remind herself that she has a shoot of her own to get through. It doesn’t matter that she won’t be able to focus—the distraction is all she has.
An hour later, Amanda steps out of her shoot, running a hand through her hair as she walks into the main room. There’s a buzz in the air—people gathered around someone in a loose, casual huddle. Her heart stutters when she sees who’s at the center.
Angela.
She should walk away. She knows she should. But her feet are rooted to the floor, frozen. A hollow laugh cuts through the room—Angela’s—and Amanda knows it’s fake even before she sees the tightness in her jaw.
Then Trevor shifts to the side, and for a brief second, Angela’s eyes land on hers.
The scowl that flashes across Angela’s face stings, but it’s the look that follows that destroys her—a blank, unfamiliar expression Amanda doesn’t recognize. Cold. Guarded. Gone .
And just like that, Angela is pulling away from the group, muttering a quick goodbye, grabbing her bag, and nearly sprinting toward the exit.
Amanda doesn’t move until she feels it—that burn of someone staring at her. She turns and finds Chance across the room, glaring, disappointment and anger sharp in his gaze.
That’s all it takes. Amanda bolts.
She jogs through the hallway and out the doors, spotting Angela speed-walking through the parking lot toward her car, head down, shoulders tense. She must hear the footsteps behind her because her body stiffens, pace quickening.
“Angela!” Amanda calls out.
“ Don’t, ” Angela spits, the word slicing through the air like a whip.
“Please—” Amanda reaches for her wrist gently, trying to slow her down and see her.
Angela yanks herself free and spins around. Her face is red, wet with tears, Amanda didn’t even realize had started falling.
“ Leave me alone, ” she hisses through clenched teeth.
Amanda stares at her, broken, breathless. “Are you… are you coming back after?”
The question falls from her lips like glass shattering on concrete. Angela’s expression crumples for a split second before she smooths it over again.
“I don’t know yet,” she says. Her voice is low. Tired. Final.
And then she turns and walks away.
Amanda stands there watching her go until the car door slams and Angela is gone.
She fumbles for her phone with shaking hands, thumbs tapping furiously.
Amanda:
Please come back after. I’ll leave, you can stay. You should be here.
Amanda:
Please, Ange.
The message bubbles for a second. Then it sends—
Green.
And Amanda’s heart sinks with the confirmation.
Blocked.