Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

It was a Wednesday when I got her letter. I had been writing her for months with no response at that point. Not even a confirmation she had been receiving the letters until Laurel mentioned how much having Junior Mint mattered to Belly. She said that it was a tiny piece of home and of Cousins, something to remind Belly who she was.

I had just gotten home from an overnight shift at the hospital and a day full of classes and clinicals. I was dead on my feet and aching with a kind of tired that makes your bones feel heavy. I wanted nothing more than to make it to my bed and crash until my study group that evening. And then there it was, my name written in her handwriting stopped me cold.

For a second I thought maybe I was imagining it, like I was so tired my brain was filling in what I wanted to see. I just stood there for a long time, staring at it, like if I opened it too fast it might vanish. Like she would vanish. Like we already had.

When I finally opened it, my hands were shaking. Not from exhaustion, from her, from us. From the fact that she’d finally written me back. The letter wasn’t long, it didn't need to be. I would take anything she was willing to give. I read it once, then again, trying not to read too much into it. Still, I couldn’t help it. There was something in her words, quiet but there. Something I’d been waiting on for months.

Belly wrote back.

I texted Taylor after I’d read the letter for the fourth time. It seemed like the most logical option. A year ago, if someone had said I’d end up trusting Taylor Jewel with something like this, I would’ve laughed. If someone had told me that Taylor and I would end up as friends, I would’ve thought they were crazy. No way. She was Belly’s best friend who I'm pretty sure never liked me. She was loud, opinionated, bold, and way too good at calling me out. Exactly the kind of person I kept at arm’s length.

And yet, she was the first person I thought of. The first one I trusted enough to say something to. That in itself felt strange, almost wrong, but also… right. Because somehow Taylor had been the one who stuck around. When things blew up last summer, she didn't go no contact like Steven. She stayed, in fact she reached out. She checked in. She didn’t let me hide, even when I wanted to. She still called me out when I needed it but she did it from a place of caring now. And somewhere along the line, she became someone I trusted.

Her reply came quick: Yeah… she mentioned she wrote you.

I couldn’t sit still after that. I must’ve walked the length of the living room a hundred times, running my hand through my hair, trying to figure out what the hell to do. Suddenly my phone buzzed again and I looked down at my phone and saw another text from Taylor.

Well?

I sank down onto the arm of the couch, thumb hovering over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to answer. How do I explain the thoughts rushing through my head right now how do I explain the feelings, the months silence and unknowing ending, of finally having Belly’s words in my hands, into a single text? How do you explain the way your chest feels too tight and too light at the same time?

I sighed. No words fit. None of them ever do. So instead of typing back, I clicked on her contact and pressed facetime call.

"Alright Fisher, what's your plan?" She said with a very matter of fact tone the moment she answered the phone. That was something I appreciated about Taylor, she was straightforward, didn't deal with the bullshit or beating around the bush.

“I don’t have one?” I responded confusion evident as the words tumbled out before I could stop them. I was embarrassed to admit it but I didn't know what to do from here. Everything felt unsteady, like I was standing on uneven ground.

Belly writing back may seem like nothing to someone else, but to me, for us, it was huge. I may have left the door open, kept writing even through the silence, but now she had finally walked through it. I know after everything last summer, that wasn't just a big step, it was a leap. And she had taken it. I tried to keep myself calm and not overthink, not spiral into a panic attack.

Taylor raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. I call bullshit Fisher. You've got some plan, or an idea, something brewing in your brain. If you weren't you would've just written her back and moved on with your day and I would not be sitting on FaceTime right now.”

I sank further into the couch arm, pinching at the edge of my sleeve. “I just… I don't know Tay. I don't want to fuck it up again. This time, it has to be perfect.”

She softened a little,“Conrad, you're making this into something bigger than it needs to be. It doesn't have to be perfect. This is you and Belly, with all your insane soulmate shit. You just have to do it. Belly doesn’t need some like big over-the-top, movie-scene gesture. She just needs you. Just you. Showing up for real this time. That’s enough.”

"She's right." I almost dropped the phone. I turned and there was Agnes, leaning against the doorway. From the looks of it she’d been standing there long enough to catch most of the conversation. And from the look on her face she had been judging me the whole time.

“How the hell did you-" I start to ask.

She dangled a key between her fingers, smirking. “Don’t give me a key if you don’t want me to use it.”

“I didn’t give you a key.”

“Right… then maybe don’t hide a spare in the most obvious spot known to mankind.” She pushed off the doorframe and casually strolled inside like she owned the place—which, honestly, with Agnes, she kind of did. Without hesitation, she flopped down on my couch like it was hers.

On my screen, Taylor practically lost it, cackling. “Oh my God, I like love her, she’s perfect. It’s like looking at a slightly scarier, way cooler California version of me. Badass and not afraid to call you on your shit.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a groan. “This is officially an ambush.”

“Ambush? No, Fisher,” Agnes said, kicking her feet up onto the couch to lay across it. “This is an intervention. And yes, you desperately need one.”

Taylor leaned closer to the camera, watching me like she could read my thoughts. “Yep. You’ve been broody, withdrawn, and mysterious long enough, Fisher. Spill it, what’s the plan? Or are we gonna have to drag it out of you?”

I looked over at Agnes kicking her boots off like she was settling in for a show. Suddenly I was outnumbered. But the truth? Some part of me was… relieved. Because if there were two people on earth who wouldn’t let me screw this up it was Taylor and Agnes. Taylor, who always had Belly’s best interests at the front of her mind, who would go down fighting for her best friend. And Agnes,who had become a permanent fixture in not only my house but my life. The one who’d carried me through the dark days more times than I could count. The person who was my friend when no one else would even talk to me. with them I couldn’t hide. Couldn’t chicken out. And maybe, that was exactly what I needed.

Chapter Text

It was mid-morning when my plane finally touched down in Paris. I had taken an overnight flight so that I could spend as much time as possible with her, if she'd let me.

The landing was rough, but somehow, it barely registered. I was too caught up in my own head, the adrenaline and nerves pumping through my body. The possibilities, the thought of finally being back in the same country as her was taking all my attention. The landing and taxi to the gate passing without a second thought, I was too wrapped up in what waited for me on the outside of the plane.

If someone had told me a year ago that I would be in Paris, willingly, with a heart pounding like I was eighteen again planning on laying myself bare to her… again. I would’ve laughed. I would've thought no way. I barely made it through that once.

But deep down, from the moment I received her letter, I think I always knew I’d end up exactly here. It didn’t feel like a decision, not really. More like gravity, an invisible force. Something pulling me back toward her.

I kept writing after everything that happened. Through the silence. Through her absence. Through the grief. At first, it was selfish, my way of pretending I still had a line to her, that we weren’t entirely broken. But after a while, it became something else. Something more like faith. Or maybe desperation.

And then she wrote back.

It didn’t erase the pain or the mistakes or what I’d put her through last summer. But it cracked something open. And that was enough. Taylor was right, when I called her the day I got the letter I knew deep down what I wanted to do. I think I only called Taylor because I needed a push, I needed confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I booked the flight that night, and any anxiety over the uncertainty got shoved down beneath hope.

By the time I made it through customs, the jet lag started to hit. My body ached from the long flight, the cramped seats, and the anxiety gnawing at me. Once I had made it safely through and to baggage claim, I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text to Taylor and Agnes letting both of them know I had landed.

Their responses came shortly after:

Taylor: Finally. Don't screw this up Fisher.

Agnes responded simply by using the emphasized reaction on Taylor's message which felt loud even without any words. She didn’t have to say anything for me to know exactly what she meant: Don’t be an idiot..

Making my way through the airport I followed the signs leading to the taxi pick up area. When I made it to the designated pick up area, I stood there for a second, phone in hand, staring out at the busy street. I didn’t even know exactly what I was going to say to her when I saw her. I hadn’t figured that part out. But Taylor and Agnes had been right, I didn’t need a perfect plan. There wasn’t one. I just needed to show up.

No script. No grand gesture. No magic words.

Just this. Just me.

Showing up.

For her. For us.

For the second chance I didn’t think I’d ever get.

I look down at her postcard double checking the address with the number of the building in front of me. I take a deep breath stepping up to the doorway. Reading the apartment numbers I find her buzzer, I.Conklin.

I press it twice and wait. After a few moments I press again. When there is no response the second time that sinking feeling starts in my chest, slow but sharp. I realize then, in that moment, that in all the planning and pacing and spiraling I’ve done I had not considered this. I never once pictured her not being here. None of the countless scenarios I had run through in my head had included her not answering the door. Not being home.

Slamming the door in my face, telling me to fuck off, asking me to leave, telling me I was too late. all possible and fully anticipated situations. But missing her, coming all this way and not even getting a chance, doing all of this for nothing… never even crossed my mind.

With a defeated sigh I take out my phone and sit down on one of the steps outside her doorway. I open the chat with Taylor and Agnes unsure what else to do,

Conrad: Update: She's not home.

Agnes: Damn. Well, she has to come back at some point right?

Conrad: I can't just sit outside her apartment all day, Agnes.

Taylor: Give me a sec.

A beat passes. Then another message pops up.

Taylor: She's like ten minutes away and it looks like she's on her way back.

Conrad: How do you know?

Taylor: Life360 duh. We added each other forever ago. It was a literal lifesaver at Finch. Drunk Belly wanders.

I exhale, half a laugh slipping out before I even mean to. Of course. I thought back to the last summer in Cousins with my mom. The Fourth of July that Belly drank way too many pomegranate margaritas and got too drunk. Her, a little past tipsy cornering at the beach shower questioning me about the birthday gift I hadn't given her before wandering off to the dock. That summer felt like a lifetime ago. Another buzz from my phone brought me back to reality.

Taylor: It looks like she's about a block away now. Good luck.

Agnes: Keep us updated.

Taylor: That too.

I turned my phone off and shoved it quickly into my pocket as I see a moped turning down the street. It slows in front of the building, and my chest tightens.

I watch as she gets off the scooter and pulls off her helmet. The first thing I notice is her hair, she's cut it short. Shoulder length, and it suits her. Of course it does. She could probably shave it all off and still look like the girl who knocked the air out of me without even trying.

She looks different, but still her. She moves with this quiet confidence, more easy and light. I can’t look away. I watch her laugh as she says something to the person with her, handing him the helmet back. I watch in awe of her, of who she had become. Just from watching her now I could tell she was happier. She looked happy, genuinely happy. She says goodbye to the guy before turning away, toward her apartment.

"Belly!" I call to her as the man on the moped drives off.

"Conrad?" Her voice catches, and I watch the shift happen in real time: shock, then confusion, then concern. The tone of her voice defensive, reserved. "What are you doing here?"

I held it together as I left her apartment. It wasn't until I made it into a taxi that I let myself break and fall apart. I give the taxi driver my destination and sank back into the seat pulling out my phone. The city moved around me, blurred through the window, but I couldn’t see any of it clearly. My throat was tight. My chest was heavier than it had been in a long time.

I open my messages app for the first time since I'd seen her this morning.

There were multiple texts from Agnes and Taylor requesting updates throughout the day, a missed call from Taylor, and two texts from Jeremiah that I hadn't seen earlier.

Jere: Wish her a happy birthday from me.

Jere: This is your shot Con, don't waste it.

I stared at his messages on the screen for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Not yet.

I wasn’t ready to face him. To explain how I’d tried, how I’d shown up, how I’d said everything that had been burning a hole in my chest for months. And still it hadn’t been enough.

So I clicked into the group chat instead.

Conrad: It's over.

The bubbles appeared immediately. Both of their icon pictures popping up and down frantically, indicating they were typing, but I didn’t wait for their replies.

I shut off my phone.

I leaned my head against the window and let the silence wrap around me, let the city blur into nothing, let the tears fall without trying to stop them.

This was what heartbreak really felt like. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just quiet, cold, lonely, and final.

And in that moment all I could think was: I lost her. For real this time.

The taxi ride was short. Almost too short.

I bought my train ticket just as we pulled up to the station, the confirmation buzzing on my phone as I wiped the last of the tears from my face. I muttered a thank you to the driver, handed him the fare, and stepped out onto the pavement like someone walking away from something they couldn’t carry anymore.

Inside the station, I moved on autopilot. No hesitation, no looking around, just head down, bag slung over my shoulder, straight to the platform. I didn’t want to be seen. Not like this. I found a seat at the front of the train car away from the crowds of people boarding.

I watch the lights of Paris blur into streaks of gold and white, fading into the dark like a dream dissolving in daylight. I tell myself not to think, not to feel, but the thought presses in anyway. As I watch the train moving farther from Paris, leaving the city behind, I know that I am leaving her behind. And as the distance grows larger, and the lights get smaller and dimmer, whatever chance we had of finding our way back, whatever hope I had left, fades into the night with it.

I shift in my seat, eyes fixed on the window, pretending not to care, pretending not to fall apart.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice snaps me out of it. I look up, and my heart stops.

She’s there. Standing in front of me. Out of breath, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and desperate, tears glinting in the corners. My mind races, like it’s trying to catch up to what’s right in front of me. I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it, because if it’s not real, I won’t survive the fall.

Before I can say a word, she draws a shaky breath.

“Conrad, I chose you. Of my own free will.”

Everything inside me stills.

“If there are infinite worlds, every version of me chooses you, in every one of them.”

Her voice trembles but doesn’t break. At that moment, she lifts her hands to her necklace and turns it around her neck, revealing the small silver infinity symbol. The sight of it makes my stomach twist.

I know that necklace. I know it like my own heartbeat.

The one I gave her the summer she turned sixteen.

She had kept it all these years.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat sharp and unrelenting. My chest tightens and my heart starts pounding so hard it’s all I can hear.

I rise slowly from my seat, careful, deliberate. Like if I move too fast she’ll vanish. Like she’s a dream I’ve conjured up out of everything I’ve been missing. A way to cope with the heartbreak of our last conversation. My sleep deprived brain creating a moment to bring me peace. My hands twitch at my sides but I don’t reach for her yet. I’m not sure if this is real.

She’s still there, her eyes fixed on mine.

Her breath hitches as I reach up and touch the necklace, needing to feel it there to believe this was real. I step closer to her, my fingers tracing the symbol as she watches me. My free hand wrapping around her waist pulling her close and she doesn’t pull away. She breathes in, shaky and small, and her hand finds the back of my neck pulling me in to a kiss.

The kiss is soft at first, but I can’t stop myself. I pull her in, closer, deeper. Everything I’ve tried to bury. The guilt, the love, the longing… it crashes into that kiss. I’m not holding back. Not anymore. Not when she’s here and kissing me like she means it.

When we break apart, she’s smiling, and she laughs, breathless.

And God, how I’ve missed that sound.

“I love you, Belly,” I say, voice low but steady.

She nods, eyes locked on mine, her hand sliding down to my arm.

"I love you too." She adds before pulling me into another kiss.

This kiss is slower, but somehow it hits even harder.

When we part again, I don’t say anything right away. I rest my forehead against hers and stand in silence for a moment. I look at her examining her face. Her eyes are closed, here breathing has steadied again and she looks content.

I slip my hand into hers and give it a gentle squeeze.

“Come,” I say softly, tugging her toward the empty seat beside mine. She follows sitting next to me.

"Do you have a ticket?" I ask, eyeing the conductor on the other end of the train car. "I can buy one if-"

"I did that in the taxi. She said pulling her phone out of her back pocket and setting it in her lap.

I nod, letting it sink in. This isn’t some dream or fleeting moment. She’s actually here.

“You’re here,” I say, still not fully believing it.

“I’m here,” she replies with a laugh, giving my hand a small squeeze.

For a second, I just look at her, trying to read her face, trying to understand how we got here. “Should we talk about this?” I ask, the words out before I can stop them.

Before she can answer, the conductor reaches us, scanning our tickets quickly before moving on.

“Yes, we should,” Belly says quietly once he’s gone, picking the conversation back up. “But you, my love, need sleep right now. I can see it in your eyes.” Her voice softens even more. “We can talk later. Close your eyes.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the weight of the last few days pressing down on me. She’s right. I am tired. Bone-tired. But her hand is warm in mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can actually rest.

I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I feel her shift beside me, curling in gently, her head resting against my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Conrad. I love you,” she whispers.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, my heart full.

“I love you too,” I murmur. And then everything goes quiet and I drift off to the most peaceful sleep I've had in years.