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A quiet knock on the glass had Cassandra looking up. Her instincts reacted faster than her eyes, her thoughts, out of habit, considering every possible upcoming attack originated in the window and their due response. However, when she turned around with a sharp frown, the subtle whisper of the glass being slid to the side and Stephanie’s clothes rustling quietly was the supposed threat her eyes met.
“Steph!” She greeted her, happiness to see her at first, then confusion and worry taking over. “I thought you were out on patrol, is everything okay? Are you hurt? Is anyone hurt? Do you–”
“Everything is fine.” She chuckled, and the light way her voice dissolved into a joyful giggle eased something in her chest that she hadn’t felt tighten up until it loosened. She didn’t see any injuries, at least not noticeable at first sight, so she chose to believe her. “I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday before anyone else could.” She grinned, carefully stepping fully inside the room and closing the window behind her, taking off her mask as she leaned forward and pressed a soft peck to Cass’s lips.
“Oh, thanks.” She said quietly, placing a bookmark in the page she was at before closing the book she had been reading. Bruce had given it to her as a gift last year, for her birthday too; “1984”, by George Orwell. However she let it rest in her hands as she distractedly stared at the cover, a simple one, but she liked the mix of red, white and black that they had used for it.
There was half a thought of silence before she felt the mattress give in under Steph’s weight, and then a puff of her perfume let her know she had sat down next to her, her lake-blue eyes seeking Cassandra’s the way the wind chased a stray fallen leaf. She tried to avoid her gaze once, but the second attempt was interrupted with her girlfriend’s pointed stare, raised brows and patient waiting. She rarely ever had a way out of Stephanie’s curiosity, let alone her obvious concern.
“What’s up? Something’s bothering you.” She said, not asked. To her credit, Stephanie usually read her like an open book. She wasn’t sure to what point it was because she knew her like the back of her hand by now or if she just refused to hide anything from her.
Now she was left with the task of somehow bringing to words what she could barely form a proper thought of. What was up with her? That was such an amazing question; she had felt quite alright up to this very moment, but if she said that, Stephanie would think her visit had upset her, when she couldn’t think of a single time her presence had been anything but soothing and comforting.
But even then, that felt much easier to say than admitting it was her birthday that made her foreign to her own skin. She knew Steph would never judge her, not for something like that, and perhaps that’s what made her feel worse? Knowing that she’d be nothing but supportive over something she couldn’t even understand herself.
“It’s just,” she tried. But words felt dry, tasteless. It felt like chewing sticks and dry leaves that got stuck between her teeth. It hurt to speak the words out, but also hurt to let it sit in her mouth. “Birthdays are… A strange thing. To me at least.” She moved, a sigh following her as she laid back against the wall, Steph turning to look at her. She wondered if it was possible to ever grow tired of looking at her; could someone grow bored of staring at art? At the sky? Unlikely, right? Probably so. “I’m not sure they’ll ever be as much of a part of me as others seem to feel about their own. And it makes me feel a little guilty when you make an effort to make them special for me, when I’m not going to reciprocate.” She looked at her hands, put the book away, and distractedly started picking at her nails. “Not the way you hope I do, at least.”
Birthdays came with traditions, with memories and childhood dreams and family reunions. At least most of the time. But to her, it meant tracking down how her own had been until not so long ago; nonexistent. Dwelling into that would also mean chasing memories of her father and her upbringing, which she wasn’t particularly a fan of. So how could she really tell even those who loved her that she felt out of place even during her own birthday just because of how alien it felt to her?
To her surprise and eternal confusion, she heard Steph start giggling quietly. When she looked up, she was covering her mouth apologetically, as if she hadn’t intended for her to hear it.
Cass frowned, not angry, but closer to feeling lost. She didn’t feel offended by her reaction, but something within her hurt. More like a scared and defensive little animal, hissing and growling at whoever approached. That’s how her heart felt in a day like this: lost and mocked, alone. Lonely.
It felt lonely.
“Oh, I’m sorry love I promise I’m not laughing at you.” She said, taking Cass’s hand. At the now kind gesture, the girl tilted her head to the side, almost a feline mannerism taking over as she stared back at her girlfriend, confused. “I just find it adorable that you seemed so worked up over it. You didn’t want to tell me because you were afraid I’d tell it the wrong way, right?” She smiled gently.
For all Steph knew how to read her, Cassandra was illiterate when it came to the blonde’s words, thoughts and intentions. A foreign language her tongue had never gotten a taste of; like the privilege of her voice being taken away all over again.
“Cass,” she smiled, scooting closer to sit back next to her, now both their backs against the walls, save for Steph’s head being tilted to the side, getting a better look at her where Cass was now quietly staring at the space between them; close enough to her to see her, but not enough to look at her. She felt so stupid right now after hearing such a heartfelt, innocent giggle at her own stress that she could actively feel the flustered pink peeling off her skin. “Thank you for caring about my thoughts, but you don’t owe me an explanation over your story! Anyone, for that matter. Your past is yours to keep or let go of, and only your word should have any power over that decision.”
To let go.
Letting go of the memories that haunted her would mean many good things: it’d mean a fresh start, it’d mean a promise at new chances to grow, it’d mean to shake off the ghosts that held on to her. But it also meant a handful bad ones: it meant to give up the root of many things about her she had learned to appreciate, it meant to moving on from the memories that sometimes helped her put the next foot forward, it meant… It meant leaving what made her her , behind. For better or worse, she owed a lot of who she was now to her past, and as much as she wouldn’t trade places now for all the money in the world, to discard it and move on as if it had never been hers…
Would refusing to let go imply she still belonged to that past, though? Would it forever tie her there? Would always stand as a glass door between her and the people that had become her family? Between her and Steph?
Cassandra sighed, closing her eyes as if she could will these doubts to go away when she opened them back again. Gently, she lied her head back against the wall, soft, harmless bangs hitting the wall over and over. If only she could knock those thoughts out, shush them for a moment so she could think in silence for a split second. Have a moment alone in her head without feeling haunted by a past she didn’t even feel allowed to get rid of; one she wasn’t sure she wanted to give up.
And yet as she whined and complained, Steph sat by her side patiently, looking distractedly at the ceiling as if she didn’t have it memorized by now, probably humming to herself inside her head to not bother her as she thought. They had been dating, (or “dating”? Tim had mumbled something about how they hardly did anything related to dating, so she guessed these were the very early stages, if anything) for a couple weeks now, and although Steph had never pressured her or urged her to take any steps she didn’t feel ready to take, she could tell the blonde yearned to know, to understand. She looked at her from a close distance, but also somehow so far away.
Did this mean she had to let go of bits of her in order to fit with Stephanie? Would she still like the remains of her when she lost what her father had built with such detail?
Something within her wept.
Something inside her bled.
“I want to share it with you, but I’m also afraid it will affect the present. Our present.” She finally managed to say. Quietly, as if speaking too loudly might wake her up to an empty room. “It’s hard to find the words to express it; it’s also hard to find the proper thoughts to form a concept, an explanation, even to myself.” Cassandra turned to look at her girlfriend, and it warmed her heart to see the painful kindness that greeted her. The eternal sunsets she seemed to always save for her skin alone, the softness she had molded to hold her for as long as she needed. “I’m afraid if I let go of the parts of me that hurt me, I’ll lose a part of who I am. Does that…Make sense?” She sighed, hugging her knees and burying her head in the nest she improvised.
“It makes sense.” Steph murmured after a careful pause, not wanting to interrupt any possible trail of thought Cass might’ve been holding on to. Her hand gently rubbed her back, between her shoulder blades with the tenderness one would console a sobbing child that had just realized his life had changed forever. “The idea of losing a part of you, even if it hurt you in the past, is scary. Because you’ll never get a chance at recovering it, so it’s a bit of a leap of faith, and you never know what awaits down there. There’s no rule that says you have to let go of the things that hold you back, but there’s also no text book on how to move through it without tripping and falling, without ending up stuck there forever.” Cassandra peeked out of her hiding spot to the other half of her room; the desk packed with notes, books, stationery and small trinkets Steph had brought for her from her trips or patrols. Her eyes tiptoed around the room that until a couple long minutes ago it had felt so empty; as the world always felt when she didn’t have Steph’s steps matching her own as they walked, when her laughter didn’t fill her echoing thoughts, when her gentle company didn’t offer a soft hand to hold.
Her head had always felt like an blinding light shining right before her eyes; its intensity blinded her, and ignoring it awakened migraines that lasted for days aside from sleepless nights. But with Steph, the scorching white turned a melting gold, and the burning light became a beautiful sunset she could visit whenever she felt weak, lost or alone.
Cassandra moved, lying her head on Steph’s shoulder, who if she had been caught by surprise with the gesture, chose not to say anything. Instead, she lied her own on top of hers, and sighed. Their hands blindly found each other, tangling together as if they had been born to be held.
She knew not for how long they stayed sitting like that, basking in each other’s company, letting the turmoil twist and growl somewhere deep down her trail of thoughts. Far enough that it couldn’t reach their sunset.
“For how long can you stay?” She dared to ask, finding her voice like an estranged heirloom.
She wondered how many seconds had ticked away before she spoke. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
Cass smiled gently, turned her head to hide her face in Steph’s shoulder as a shade of pink tiptoed over the bridge of her nose.
How could anyone ever grow tired of hearing the gentleness of that voice?
“Then…Stay, please.”
A squeeze tickled the callouses and scars in her hand. She squeezed back her smaller frame, feeling a string pull at her dazed heart.
“Will do.” She muttered, shortly after pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.