Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

till dawn and daylight - Midnights and Lover

the ivy garden - Folklore, Evermore, and Debut

burning red - Red, 1989, Reputation, Lover, Folklore, and Speak Now

wish he would've -  Midnights and 1989

call it what you want - Reputation and Debut

on midnights like this  - Midnights and 1989

dust on every page - Evermore and Red

on midnights like this (part 2) - 1989 and Midnights

 

 

Stuff:

Evermore and Folklore are sisters, the others aren't related

Setting will depend on whatever I feel like lol

Chapter Text

The first light of morning crept across the city like a ghostly golden tide. It was soft and hesitant, brushing the streets and windows with warm pastel that made every surface shimmer, even the wet asphalt left from last night’s rain - shifting for the familiar black into something between grey and gold. Midnights leaned against the balcony railing, her knees pulled up to her chest, hair loose and damp from the lingering drizzle. Normally, she would have long since retreated to her room, back to her jeweltones and gloomy lighting. But this time… she hadn’t.

Whatever it was keeping her up to 3 or 4 am everynight (restlessness, insomnia, haunting what-ifs, the quietness of a sleeping house - pick you poison, like Poet would always say) had stretched out past its usual schedule. Not that she had much tried sleeping, but still.

“You... are up...?” came a soft voice behind her. Lover took the last steps leading up the staircase, a blanket draped around her shoulders like a pale, protective cloak. Glitter still clung faintly to her eyelashes, remnants of a late night she didn’t seem ready to leave behind. “...at dawn?” she asked, teasing, but there was something else tucked between the words.

Midnights gave a small shrug, maybe uncharacteristically small. “I don’t know.” Her voice was softer than usual, barely louder than the breeze that carried the scent of wet concrete and faint coffee from the streets below. “I stayed up all night. Guess I stayed for the sunrise too.” It was still spring. Still a time when "sunrise" meant "morning" and not the sliver of time between her 3am solitude and actual morning. Soon, in July and August, that time of day would be Folklore's, not hers. Folklore's time to wander around the misty garden of their summer cottage with her quills and papers and photos and whatever she was doing there anyway.
It didn't matter, Midnights would usually be gone long before the world started to brighten again, so they could keep the sunrises. So she wasn't sure why she was now greeting this one.

Lover stepped closer, leaning lightly against the railing beside her. For a moment, they both watched the horizon in silence, the city stretching and yawning beneath them, shutting off its street lamps and waking up its morning traffic. The air was crisp, slightly chill against exposed skin, and carried a faint tang of rain and dust.
“It’s beautiful, daylight,” Lover sighed finally, eyes tracing the cloudy pastel streaks in the sky, the soft lavender fading into gold. “You know… you never see it if you’re asleep. Most people just miss it entirely.”

Midnights’ lips pressed together, then lifted into the faintest curve of a smile. She wrapped her arms around her knees and let her gaze drift along the skyline. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I… don’t like mornings." They always came with pressure. Get up, make your bed, do your skincare, go for a morning run, be a useful member of society, start out your day like a human being for once. "The world already has a plan for you when the sun rises." Like everything she hadn't done - past or present - was staring at her. Not inviting, like when inspiration finally struck, or hauntingly like at night. Just expectantly. There wasn't any reward at the end of it, it was just what you were supposed to do.

“But this,” she added quietly, almost to herself, “doesn’t feel like that. Not right now.”
For a while, neither spoke. A single bird called out somewhere between rooftops, the hum of cars below them started up again, but so far something you could still ignore.

“You’re lucky,” Lover said, nudging Midnights’ shoulder gently. “Most people miss this. Most people sleep right through it, never see the world before it’s awake.”
Midnights let her arms rest on the railing, feeling the sun’s first warmth on her hands. She took a slow, deep breath, tasting the early morning air in a way she usually didn’t. “Maybe,” she said, voice low, almost reverent. "But I don't see it before it's awake, I sit with it after it dies." At least this, the quiet trembles of a mostly still resting city... at least this felt like hers.

Lover tilted her head, glancing at Midnight from the corner of her eye. "Have you been talking to Poet? That sounds like something she'd say."
Midnights' shoulders rose slightly. "It sounds like something I'd say. It's something I said."

No response. Not a verbal one, at least, but after a moment of quietness, she could feel Lover leaning her head slightly toward Midnights’ shoulder. “Then I’m glad you stayed up,” she said. “I’m glad I got to see it too.”

She let the warmth of the words settle inside her chest. For a moment, she felt the tight coil of tension she always carried in the quiet hours loosen just a little. The city beneath them hummed softly, alive but gentle, not so overwhelming. Maybe mornings weren’t enemies, not entirely. Maybe, occasionally, once in a while, when people were still asleep for the most part, they could even be friends.

Chapter Text

The chilly grass was damp with dew when Folklore padded through the garden. Silver strands of mist weaving through the early morning hours and over the hedges, wrapping the world in a grey veil and mimicking the steam curling from her ceramic mug.

This was her hour. When the dim summer light once again started creeping over the horizon, after the darkness but before dawn, with sweet tea and the memories sitting closer than ever.

She sank down beneath the apple trees, back resting against the trunk, brushing off some leaves off the flat stone before sitting. She pulled out the quill she had tucked behind her ear, unscrewed the lid of her ink bottle, and began writing. There was no specific thing she wanted to write, she never did, but old memories blended with old poetry and somewhere in there the quill always came up with something.

“Finding your inspiration?”

She looked up to find Evermore slowly walking through the garden, fingers brushing against the out-sticking leaves of the hedge.

“It finds me,” Folklore smiled. “When it wants to, at least.”

Evermore hummed. “Hence the morning air, I suppose.” She sat down beside her sister, wrapping her coat tighter around herself and shooting Folklore’s thin, gray nightgown a glance. “Even if it’s chilly.”

Folklore nudged her. “That’s bold coming from the girl who’s obsessed with autumn. But I guess you dress warmer.” She leaned back against the apple tree, letting her gaze drift over the garden. “I like the silence, that’s all. It feels like I’m keeping the ghosts company.”

Her voice faded, and Evermore let her keep the silence, broken only by the quiet etching of the quill and a few lonely birds singing as the sun began to creep over the treeline and through the gray mist.

“KARMAAA!”

Folklore’s gaze was fixed on her notebook, finishing what she was writing but Evermore looked up. Karma, Midnights’ black cat, came scurrying out of the house, followed by Debut, dressed only in her light green pajamas and hair messy from sleep.

The young girl caught up to the cat a few steps from Evermore and Folklore, scooping it up. “Sorry Ev, she stole Flutters.” She muttered, prying the butterfly plushies from the cat’s jaws. “And she wouldn’t give it back - oh, hi Lorry!” She chirped as she spotted Folklore, half hidden behind Evermore. "Whatcha doin?"

“Just listening to the morning,” Folklore replied. Debut blinked. Then sighed and started picking at the daisies on the ground. “You’re both so serious. It’s morning! A beginning, and you’re always talking about endings and death.”

Folklore chuckled, reaching down to tuck one of Debut’s daisies behind her ear. “New and old aren’t enemies. They’re sisters. You can’t have beginnings without remembering what came before, you know?”

Chapter Text

The bonfire was burning high, sparks snapping into the crisp October sky, air smelling like smoke, fallen leaves, and something bittersweet.

Red stood a little too close to the flames, cheeks flushed, hair mussed from dancing. A cup of mulled wine swung loosely in her hand as she laughed too loud at something Nine had said. But even mid-laugh, when a gust of wind blew a handful of orange leaves across the firelight, her expression flickered — same distant look as every autumn.

Nine noticed it. She always did. “You’re about to go full-poet, aren’t you?” she teased, tugging Red’s sleeve. “Don’t get me wrong, the vibe’s perfect for fall — but if you start crying about maple trees and scarves again, I’m dragging you back into the dance circle.”

Red grinned, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t crying, last time.” Her voice caught a little. “Just...” She gestured toward the drifting leaves like they were a metaphor waiting to be written.

From her place on the log, Folklore hummed in quiet agreement. She had a notebook open on her lap, candlelight trembling across the pages. “She’s not wrong,” Folklore said softly. “Every fall feels like a funeral and a love letter at once.”

“God,” Nine groaned, throwing her head back. “Two poets in stereo.”

On the other side of the firepit, Speak Now was busy weaving her last of the year's wildflowers into her braid, barely listening until the word "love" came up. She turned her head toward Red. “So,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “which crush are we mourning tonight? Or celebrating? ..hexing?”

Red let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Both, maybe - mourning and celebrating, that is, not witch-craft..ing.” She sank onto the log beside Speak Now, pressing the warm cup against her cheek. “He texted me, then didn’t, then showed up at that café where I usually go with my friends, like didn't care if a was there... or like he knew I’d be there, —”

“Which he did,” Reputation muttered from the side. She was sprawled in a camping chair just outside the bonfire glow, boots propped on the firewood stack, joyless smirk sharp as glass. “People don’t just ‘happen’ to be where you always are. He’s either playing games or he’s obsessed.”

Red ignored the sting of that, words tumbling like they always did when she had an audience. “Anyway, he looked at me like we still meant something. Like maybe we...”

“-could rewrite the ending?” Speak Now interrupted, eyes glittering with the exact kind of dangerous hope that had gotten her into plenty of trouble herself.

“Yes!” Red leaned forward. “Exactly that! Don’t you ever feel like maybe the story isn’t over? That maybe you’re allowed to want it back?”

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the fire’s crackle. Then Folklore looked up again, voice gentle but firm. “Or maybe it’s about telling a different story this time.”

Red covered her flinch with a shrug. Her reactions were always wildfire compared to Folklore’s steady candlelight.

Lover, sitting cross-legged with glittey scarff covering her knees, piped up suddenly. “But isn’t that what makes it sort of beautiful? That you can still want, still believe, even when it hurts. That’s… love.”

Speak Now groaned. “Ugh, you’re so predictable.”

“Love?" Reputation's left eyebrow rose. "He ghosts you once, he’ll ghost you again. Write him off, Red. Better yet, write him up.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Red asked quietly. Fire dimmed, she looked at Reputation. “Doesn’t it ever wear you out - always holding the grudge?”

For the briefest second... something seemed to stumble, Reputation’s smirk faltered. Then she was back, turning her head away form the firelight. “Better than being fooled twice - don't you think?”

The conversation lulled, everyone going back to sipping their cups, tending to the fire, writing, whatever else they had been doing.

Finally, Folklore broke the silence. “You know,” she murmured, “maybe autumn isn’t about endings or rewrites. Maybe it’s just… letting go. The trees do it every year. And look, they’re still standing.”

Red blinked quickly (too quickly?), throat tight. She found for Nine’s hand - steady, grounding, warm. Nine squeezed back. “Come on,” she said, her grin returning, brighter than city lights. “Forget the boy. Let’s go dance. There’s a whole starry-ass night left, and you burn too damn brightly to waste it on someone who can’t keep up.”

Chapter Text

Winter was great. It got dark quickly and people generally went to sleep earlier. The only issue Midnights had with winter was that when it was dark it was dark dark. In the summertime the night was always that perfect dimness where she could walk around the house without bumping into things. Now, at 2am on a december night, it was too dark to exist without any lights on at all.

Still, she refused to touch the over-head lamps, so the kitchen switched between bathing in the pale blue of the refrigerator light and the slightly warmer flashlight from her phone.

She’d been sitting on the kitchen table, mulling over her thoughts and picking at her nails, when footsteps heading down the stairs caught her attention. She craned her neck to see who it was when the room suddenly bathed in light.

“Ahh!” She winched back, covering her eyes, nose wrinkling. “You can’t warn a person before blinding them?”

“Hm?” It was Nine, looking up from her phone. “Oh, sorry! I, uhm, didn’t see you there.” She took a few steps towards the fridge, taking out the cereal from the cupboard before going for the milk, but her gestures seemed… disjointed.

“You’re not usually awake,” Midnight observed. No response. “Nine?”

“Mh, what?”

“Are you… are you alright?”

Nine shrugged a little. “Eh, yeah, sure - how so?”

“Because you’re pouring orange juice on strawberry cereal-mix.”

Nine stared down at the concoction she’d created before letting out a deep breath. “I guess I was a little distracted…” she mumbled.

Midnights was quiet for a moment before reaching out, grabbing Nine’s arm and pulling her towards the kitchen table, turning her hand over to look at the phone. Text messages; all sent, none received. “Who is that?”

“...You know the guy I’ve gone out with?” Nine mumbled, slumping down a chair by the kitchen table. “Well… he keeps not responding.”

“He just ghosted you out of the blue?”

“N.. noo.. Not exactly.” Nine sighed and placed down the phone - screen still facing her, notification volume likely all the way up. “We maybe… sort of had a fight.”
Midnights’ eyes narrowed. Fighting with someone wasn’t too unusual for Nine, nor having complications in her love-life. It was the reaction she worried about.

“A fight about…?”

“I heard… from a friend… that he’d been out and about with some other girl.”

“...oh?”

“Yeah, and I- as soon as I heard about it confronted him, over the phone, and he tried to deny it at first, and then he was like ‘yeah, what you heard is true but I can’t stop thinking about you and I’ but at point I was so mad I just hang up on him…” Nine’s voice faded and she was left staring at her phone, tapping it once to prevent it from turning off.

“And I’m guessing he hasn’t replied since.”

No response, so after a moment of silence Midnights got up and walked to the strange soup left on the counter, shooting it a glance before she pulled out a new bowl, poured in cereal and then milk. Chocolate helped with heartache, right?

She placed down the bowl and bar of chocolate in front of Nine and sat back down on the table.

“I’m not even- I can’t- Like I miss him too much to be mad anymore!”

“Nine, look, let me just make sure I understand. This guy goes out with another girl, you have a witness for it and he admits to it, and then doesn’t even try to apologize even though you’ve reached out?”

Nine let out something in between a groan and a whimper, sinking down in her chair and picking at the cereal. “God, when you put it like that I really sound pathetic, huh?”

“A bit,” Midnights admitted, perhaps a bit too flatly. “But so is everyone at 2:15 am in the kitchen.”

Nine lifted her head, shooting Midnights a glare. “You don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” she sighed. “I sit in the dark on a nightly basis, gnawing at my own shadows. Don’t make me out to be the stable one.”

It wasn’t meant as particularly funny, but she was surprised to hear the smallest laugh from Nine. Weak, but pleasant.

Then it was caught off by a notification chime. Midnights almost felt inclined to pick up the phone herself and throw it out the nearest open window, but Nine was quicker. ... Weather report, warning about a storm tomorrow or something.

She looked at Nine for a moment, the other girl’s lips pressed tightly together and hands trembling.

“God, in two hours it will have been a week since I sent the first text. Does this mean it’s over now?”

Midnights swallowed, thoughts drifting back to the only two relationships she’d ever been in. “I don’t think so…” she began. “But maybe it should.”

Nine’s glossy eyes met hers. “...what?”

“Last time I was involved with someone… he was a good guy, we just wanted different things… and I think I sort of ruined it.”

Her friend began to say something but Midnights wasn’t done.

“He was… sunshine, and I sometimes worry I might have dimmed that.” Her eyes shifted to the phone. “And now I worry you’re wasting your energy on someone who can’t be bothered to send a text.”

Nine just looked at her. Eyes slightly more red than before but her hands had stopped trembling.

Then her hand struck out, grabbing the phone, quickling clicking something and tossed it to Midnights like it was a pruning potato.

“Ok, I, uh, I blocked him.” She stared at the phone for a heartbeat longer before locking eyes with Midnights. “Don’t give me that phone until tomorrow dawn, ok?”

“You got it.”

And another ten minutes or so passed of Nine picking at her cereal, a thoughtful gaze fixed on something invisible in front of her, while Midnights let her eyes drift towards the window, trying not to imagine the people she usually thought about on midnights like these.

Nine had started chewing on her lip like she’d rather eat it than the cereal. Then, quietly: “Do you think I’m hard to love?”

The question hung there. It was the kind of thing Midnights hated - the kind that demanded something real in response.

“I think you’re a lot to love,” she said finally. “But ‘a lot’ isn’t the same as ‘hard.’”

Nine blinked at her, clearly trying to decide if that was comfort or criticism. Then she gave a small, lopsided grin. “I think that’s actually the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Midnights rolled her eyes, sliding down from the table to sit down beside her. “Well, that’s depressing.”

They sat in silence after that, the fridge humming, the storm warning notification still glowing faintly on the phone screen in Midnights’ pocket, and the wind slowly picking up outside. Nine had pushed the untouched cereal and even more untouched chocolate away. Her eyes had closed so Midnights wasn’t surprised when Nine’s body started to lean to the side until her head was resting on Midnights’ shoulder.

“You know,” she murmured, half-asleep, “you’re way better company than some guy who doesn’t text back.”

Midnights didn’t move, wasn’t too sure she dared to. The truth was, she liked the weight. The proof that someone had chosen her - not sunshine, noise, or lively mornings, just sitting in the kitchen late at night.

And for once, she didn’t mind the light being on.

Chapter Text

“But this one’s different !” 

Debut laid sprawled on the couch with her diary in her hands. 

“Right.” 

Everyone else was out somewhere: Speak now, Nine, Red, and Fearless had gone to some café; Evermore was probably drifting through some antique shops with Poet and Folklore, shopping for coffee-stained paper, goose quills, ink, or some other nonsense. Lover had looked way too pretty this morning for it not to be a date, and since it was daytime Midnights would not be seen for hours yet.

So, while Rep hadn’t planned it, that left her in the house. Alone. With Debut.

“You don’t get it," Debut insisted, probing herself up on her elbow to turn towards Rep. “He looked at me like- like he already knew me, you know?” 

“I really don’t-”

“Like he’d seen me in a dream of something. It’s fate!”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded like she’d been around Fearless and Speak now too much. Maybe Folklore's talk about all that string theory stuff had gotten to her head. “So what was it this time - leather jacket, guitar maybe?”

Debut shot her a glare, lip pouting. “You’re just jealous because you don’t believe in magic.” 

Rep’s eyes narrowed, arms crossed and black nails tapping against her sleeve. “I don’t believe in twenty-minute soulmates in your or fate doing anything too substantial before you even graduate, if that’s what you mean.” 

“You don’t have to be such a stormcloud about it.” Debut muttered.

It was one of the more pleasant things she’d been called, actually. “Someone has to keep you from floating into traffic with closed eyes because someone has green eyes.” 

She hadn’t meant for her tone to soften, for anything in her voice to sound less flat than usually. But Debut paused, the pout melting off her face before a grin quickly took its place. She tossed her diary aside and sat up.

“Well someone’s being protective.” 

“Evermore’s gonna kill me if I let you come up with something stupid while I’m babysitting,” she grunted. And Debut laughed - loud, unguarded, like she knew exactly which buttons to push. It should’ve been irritating, really. Instead, Rep felt that restless coil inside her ease, just a little. 

“Just don’t go chasing after a mistake just ‘cause he has nice eyes, okay?”

“Mhm, I’m still calling it fate,” Debut decided. “And when it turns out I’m right, you’ll owe me.”

“Yeah? What would I owe you?”

Debut paused for a moment, eyes wandering, a thoughtful expression on her face before she lit up again. “A smile. Like a actual one.”

Chapter Text

The midnight drizzle drummed against the windows panes, delicate and somehow reassuring. She preferred heavy rain, maybe even storms, but any kind of midnight rain that helped drown out her thoughts was welcomed. Besides, it felt less lonely with background noise.

Midnights was huddled up on the couch, half hoping sleeping somewhere other than her bed would help her, well, actually fall asleep. So far it hadn’t, so she was left sitting curled up in the middle, slowly kneading a throw pillow between her hands. 

A few hours had gone by of the house being silent and everyone but her being asleep when a noise, something other than the gentle rain, made Midnight look up. It had come from outside, she was pretty sure, but not from the street, much closer than that. Then there it was again, a little click and rustle, like… like something trying and failing to open the front door.

Midnight could feel a slow, chilling shiver creep up her spine as she rose. Not a light in the house was on - she preferred it that way - and she hadn’t moved for at least an hour now, so whoever was trying to get inside couldn’t possibly know she was awake. Creeping over to the kitchen, she picked out a knife - something sharp but handy enough - and headed for the door. 

She wasn’t as into true crime as Evermore, but didn’t robbers usually enter around 1pm or so, when everyone was mostly likely to be in school, at work, or just out and about in general? And not an hour past midnight. Unless they wanted someone to be home, which was certainly much worse. 

Midnights slowly got over to the window in an attempt to see who was out there, but the angle and dark of night didn’t allow her to. Only now did it cross her mind to call the police, started padding over to grab her phone, when whoever was on the other side of that door let out an exasperated… something or other. No words were uttered, but something made Midnights stop in her tracks. Something made her reach for the door handle, and something even less sane made her creek it open.

“Nine?” Her friend stood outside, keys in hand, hair and shoulders wet from the rain, blinking at Midnights in confusion. Then a wide, much too bright grin spread over her face. 

“Nighttyyyy!” she smiled, practically falling forward to fling her arms around Midnights. 

“Wha-” Then, with Nine closer, she managed to smell what was on Nine’s breath. “You’re drunk, aren’t you,” she sighed. 

“Mh? Noo,” Nine replied, shaking her head. “I only like- like a few drinks? Good thing you let me in tho, the stupid door wouldn’t unlock.” 

Midnights grabbed Nine’s arms, glancing down at her sparkly keychain before leading her to  the couch. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit. And try unlocking the door with the house keys next time, not the keys to your bike.”

Nine fell back onto the cushions, looking down at her keychain and giggling a little to herself. “Huh, funny, I could have sworn- What’s that?”

“Water.”

“I know it’s water, silly-”

“Yeah, you should drink it.” Midnights held out the glass further. “Here.” She knew a thing or two about being drunk, even if it usually was behind closed curtains, and alone. And so she knew a handful of things about hangovers, too.

Nine didn’t really protest and took the glass, but she grimaced after just one sip, looking at the water like it had personally offended her. “Mhrm, tastes lamee .”

Midnights ignored the comment, sinking down on the couch beside her. “Fun night out?”

That made Nine lit up. “Yeaah, there were so many people!”

“That’s nice.” She supposed.

“Uh-hu! Oooh, and I met this guuy, he was really nice tooo, and look! He gave me his phone number!" She stretched out her arm, pulling up her sleeve to show a messily scribbled down series of numbers. Two of them had been crossed out and rewritten, and a 5 was backwards. 

“We talked like allll night,” Nine continued. “And, see my phone was dead but th-”

“What?” Midnights could feel herself stiffen. “You went out late at night with an empty battery?” 

“No, see, it had like 60% when I went out, but then I showed my friend this funny video… and I accidentally left it running in my pocket, and then, it died. But don’t worryyy, the bartender had a sharpy!” She showed off her arm again as if Midnights would have forgotten.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned her gaze towards the window so as not to let Nine read her expression. Then again, the girl’s emotional intelligence seemed a bit out of it. Currently, she sat humming a poppy melody that Midnights remember hearing her sing before. Off-key but she likely didn’t notice. 

She also hadn’t noticed the drops of rain still clinging to her shirt and hair, but Midnights reached for a blanket, unfolded it and draped it over her shoulders, dragging a hand under her hair so that it wasn’t sticking to her neck anymore. 

“Hmmm warmm,” Nine mumbled, contently.

“You shouldn’t be walking around this late. Alone. And drunk. And with a dead phone.” Midnights didn’t mean for it to come out so sharp, but Nine’s smile faded. She blinked, looking at Midnights as if she’d spoken a foreign language. 

Then she smiled again - softer and equally drunk. “S’fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is. You were home, and you’re always awake at this time. You were here, so I wasn't worried.”

The drizzle outside had grown to a steady rainfall, thick drops rolling against the glass. Midnights stared at them instead of answering. The way Nine said it - casual, trusting - made her chest ache in a way she wasn’t ready to name. 

She wanted to say something back, something teasing, something dismissive maybe, something to push away the weight of it. Instead she just sat there, watching the rain.

Finally, after a good few minutes of silence, she turned to Nine. Who was asleep, head tipped back towards the top of the cushions, mouth slightly agape. 

Chapter Text

Autumn had come again, flooding over the forest with its burning hues, and sweet scent of fruit and rotting leaves. Trees shedding the foliage, rodents hoarding fruit and nuts for the winter, birds migrating – it was a strangely comforting way for summer to die off. 

And like every autumn, Evermore found herself walking beneath the sunset-colored patchwork canopy. 

But not alone, this time, because just a few paces behind her Red trodded with a berry basket in hand. Not that Evermore really needed much company, but Red had seemed to. As in, Red had been staring at nothing, rummaging through her scarves over and over again as if looking for something, and clutching old photos with tears in her eyes – all of which in Evermore’s book constituted a need for distractions. 

The quiet rustle of the leaves mixed with the steady sound of Evermore’s footsteps, and the uneven beat of Red’s behind her – feet catching on stones and roots. Red kept stopping too every now and then, crouching down to pick at berries, somehow only finding unripe ones, rolling them between her fingers before then tossing them back into the bushes. She did so once, twice, a dozen times until the rhythm settled in with Evermore as well.

A brief gust of wind ripped through the foliage, sending down a crimson rain of leaves, and – as Evermore noticed when glancing over her shoulder – leaving Red staring up at the tree crowns, lips tights and hands slightly trembling. 

“Everything’s always falling apart in autumn,” she muttered

Evermore tilted her head. “Or falling into place.” She wouldn’t describe autumn as “falling apart” anymore or the clouds during rainfall. Sure, things broke down, biologically speaking, but forest going to bed and leaving its summer clothing behind.

She had personally considered her response soothing enough, but Red’s features were still tense. “Like–” She tapped against the brim of the basket as if it was carrying the words she was looking for. “Like, Folklore is always going on about how ‘everything lasts, everything stays one way or another’... am– am I going to have to relive this forever?”

“Well…” Evermore felt a slight smile tug at the corners of her lips. Folklore meant well, she always did. Whereas Fearless had fairytales to lean on and Speak Now fantasy books to escape into, Folklore had always held stories like they were old friends. And she clutched her memories like heirlooms to be passed down, whispering them over and over until she believed them unbreakable – talking as if nothing truly ever left because, well, she never truly let it.

“Break-ups are so– so stupid ,” Red snapped. “Having beef with a color, car keys, the concept of starlight, and now apparently all of autumn is stupid !” She sank down, back against a maple, berry basket falling to the forest floor. “I am going to be reminded of him every time the leaves change color, huh? That’s like every year! Do you get how unfair that is?” Red’s voice cracked. “He gets to walk away, and I get stuck with every damn calendar out to get me.”

Evermore didn’t say anything, not yet, but sat down on a rock beside Red. She let the silence stretch. Let the forest fill for their lack of talking. The caw of a crow. The brittle snap of a branch far off. The sound of Red’s uneven breathing. 

“Nothing lasts forever,” Evermore finally mumbled. Marriage, friendship, family-ties. Platonic and romantic relationships. Life, for that matter. She’d been there to watch each of them fall apart, snap, and shatter. Nothing was permanent, nothing properly stayed, even when trapped. She was walking proof of it. 

There was only a vague “mhm” from behind her in response – had she heard her?

“Red?” 

“Yeah?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” she repeated. “Not even your pain.” 

Evermore was walking proof of that too.

Chapter Text

She was woken up by the morning sunlight cracking through the curtains and creeping over the room. Nine rubbed her eyes, just testing if she could get rid of the mild headache that way.

It was only when she started to get up that she became aware of Midnights curled up on the other end of the couch. The night before was slowly coming back to her, blurry still, but she was fairly certain that she had not fallen asleep on Midnights’ shoulder this time - the girl could’ve padded back up to her room. Surely a bed was more comfortable than the couch, at least Nine and the soreness in her body wished she would have bothered walking to her bed last night. 

Then she noticed the small, black ball of catfur resting in Midnights’ lap. Karma had joined the two, and according to Midnights' rules, one was not permitted to move a muscle if a pet was resting on them.

Nine got up and stretched, shrugged off the blanket she didn’t remember wrapping around herself, and pulled at her wrinkled clothes. God, she really should get changed. After that, she could apologize to Midnights for the mess she must have been last night. 

The girl was still asleep when Nine padded down in a white t-shirt and jeans instead of her night-out clothes. And she looked so… calm. Midnights always did, in an almost unsettling way, but usually it was a like… well, Nine couldn’t put her finger on it, but Midnights actually looked peaceful now

“So that’s what you do all day, huh?” Nine mumbled to herself. “That’s how you look.” 

She hadn’t meant to say her thoughts out loud. Midnights didn’t wake, only stirred a bit, but it was enough to make Karma open her eyes and yawn. It stretched, padded around on the couch space between Midnights thighs and the armrest, trying to find a good place to lay down again, and when she didn’t succeed, finding Midnights hand and starting to nudge it. 

“Oh! Nononono, let her sleep,” Nine mumbled, rushing over to pick up the cat, who meowed in protest as soon as she touched it. 

“Sorrryy, but don’t disturb her, please?” Her voice was a whisper. 

“Hey, you know what? Comere!” She sat down on the floor in front of Midnights and the cat, legs crossed and tapped her lap. This was how you got cats to come and sit on you, wasn’t it? Either way, the black cat stopped poking her owner and slipped down into her hands. 

“There, there, quiet kitty, nice kitty.” 

Headbutted her hands until she started scratching its cheeks, which kept it from meowing, but the purring wasn’t really something she could turn off. 

Nine sighed, and glanced up at Midnights, still talking to herself. “You know you could’ve gone to your bed. It still exists, and I have a feeling it’s more comfortable.”

A beat, then Midnights cracked one eye open. Her voice came out hoarse and still thick with sleep. “Karma chose me. Rules are rules.”

“When did you wake up?.”

But Midnights didn’t respond, instead looking at her cat before reaching out a hand to grab Nine’s. “Like this.” Guiding it to scratch behind Karma’s right ear. “She prefers it like that.” 

“Did I wake you up? It’s like 9am, you’re always asleep at this hour.”

Midnights’ gaze shifted from the cat to meeting Nine’s eyes. “I’m always in my room at this hour, how do you know I’m sleeping?”

“Stop being all mysterious, you have to sleep either at day or night.” Nine’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still human.” Or at least she was fairly certain of that. “And I did put you in the position of the stable one last night – my turn.”

“Maybe I just don’t need as much as you,” Midnights murmured, letting head sink back into the couch cushion, hair tumbling into her face. 

Nine rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm.” Midnights’ lips twitched faintly, “Then why are you sitting on the floor whispering apologies to my cat?”

Heat rose to Nine’s cheeks before she could stop it. “Okay, that’s– I was just trying to prevent her from waking you up all cranky!”

Midnights hummed, low, amused, rubbing her ear. “Right. You know you’re loud enough sober. I can only imagine you in a club.”

Nine was quiet for a moment - running through what she could recall – before she let out a groan and let her forehead drop into her free hand. “God. I must’ve been awful last night, huh?”

She expected something snarky, likely non-committal in response, but instead there was a pause. Midnights propped herself up on her elbow, pulling a hand through her hair to un-mess it. “I… No– I mean, you went on about how the night was, and well, you tried unlocking the door with your bike keys–” 

Nine blinked. Had Midnights actually laughed just now? Not much, just a light giggle, like a little rainfall. But it had to be the first time she’d ever heard it. 

“So I wasn’t…” Nine chewed on the inside of her cheek– “like… annoying? No wait, stupid questions, of course I was–”

“You weren’t.”

She paused. “...oh?” 

“I mean–” Midnights’ gaze seemed to have briefly shifted to just about anywhere that wasn’t Nine, which felt like a sign of lying if Nine’d ever seen one. “You are fine, compared to other drunks.”

It was not a compliment, Nine knew that, still… the words felt a teensy bit warmer this time.

In her lap, Karma suddenly gave off a loud, very demanding mew, and started chewing Nine’s hand after it’d stopped giving her attention. Seemingly without thinking, Midnights reached out to guide Nine’s hand back to the spot that Karma apparently liked. 

“Thanks,” Nine mumbled about two thirds of a second before realizing how stupid that was. “Sorry.” Yeah so that was a lot worse.

Then, as she looked down at Karma and by extension her own hand, she noticed something peeking out from her under her sleeve she hadn’t noticed while changing. 

“Oh my God, I totally forgot that he gave me his number! Did I tell you about the guy?”

“yes.”

She started to roll up her sleeve to type out the numbers into her phone – ignoring the betrayal in Karma’s eyes. But her expression blued as she uncovered all of it. Or rather, where all of it had been, because three numbers in the middle had been smudged out and become unreadable. 

“Damn.” 

She hadn’t noticed any smudging on her shirt while changing at least, but the numbers looked very much like they’d been whipped off. 

She glanced at Midnights, who was looking at something outside. “Were they smudged when I showed you? Like right after I’d come back?” 

“I don’t– I can’t remember, I didn't look too hard.”

“Oh.” Nine held her wrist closer to the light, twisting it like maybe from the right angle the numbers would reappear. “Great,” she finally sighed. “The one way I had to get to him.”

“You can just… ask him again?” Midnights said, voice strangely careful.

“If I happen to bump into him again, yeah. But people like that don’t just show up twice.”

“Well…” Midnights adjusted herself. “Do you… know his name? Where he works?”

“No. Didn’t come up.” She felt almost stupid saying it, and could feel her cheeks flushing. 

“You said you two talked like all night, didn’t you?”

“We talked, like– like joked and stuff, and well I mentioned a couple of my interests but he didn’t ask much and I guess… Well, the point is I don’t know where to find him.” 

Midnights’ gaze flicked toward her for the briefest second. “Maybe that’s not the worst thing.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Midnights sank further into the couch cushion, eyes dragging toward the window as if the barren winter branches outside were suddenly fascinating – God, couldn’t people look Nine in the eyes when they spoke to her. “Just… sometimes it’s better not to build a whole tower on nothing.”

Nine bit the inside of her cheek again, not sure whether she was supposed to be insulted. “You’re really good at killing my vibe, you know that?”

Midnights didn’t respond. Her fingers tapped lightly against the couch arm, rhythmic, restless.

Finally Nine sighed, gently brushing Karma off her lap as she got to her feet. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I’m desperate.”

“Right,” Midnights murmured, making Nine give her a sharp look, even if the words came softer than she’d expected.

She paused halfway to the kitchen – craving a distraction more than anything in the way of food. There was something in the other girl’s posture. Shoulders hunched in a way she’d only seen them at night. Chin tilted down. She was stretching Karma on the head, but even that seemed absent-minded. 

And for just a moment it made Nine want to press, to ask why exactly Midnights looked like she was the one who’d lost something.

Then she got up, straightening her shirt. “You should drink water, before the headache gets worse. I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

And just like that, the moment slid away.