Work Text:
There were four walls. Cold, always cold. More, there was something hard and flat to the touch. The steady hum of air-conditioning, methodical taps of cloven hoof on carpet, and pain. A sharp pain, a fresh pain, beating like a drum from a splinter wedged into something that could not get it out.
Noelle lifted her head and the room swam. Her eyes drifted, gaze lost in a faraway horizon. She didn't remember closing the door. Had she? Probably. Susie might still be downstairs. If that’s true then Kris must be nearby too. Always nearby nowadays. Something changed between them, clearly.
The thought nettled her mind, perverting the usual revelry when Susie crossed her fancies, rotting it down into something small and brittle. Her stomach churned. She couldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t. So she pushed it down, unease and all, leaving only a cold, clean numbness behind.
A chill crept up her spine, branching over her bones. Her muzzle slams into the desk. She can’t escape. Not from the cold. Not from the heaviness settling in her chest. The emptiness gnawing at her insides is merciless, snuffing out all comforts, conquering any warmth. A terrible thought: maybe this was good. If she can’t feel then there couldn’t be more pain.
For the first time, the idea didn’t terrify her.
Worse, it even felt like relief.
Sensation receded into the background until the background became all. She was weightless in the darkness. An angel, floating free above everything and everyone that might try to make her feel anything at all. True to its word there was no pain, no memories. An embrace without worry. A bliss with no end.
Yet awareness prods the edges unbidden, almost clinically so. The apathy shifts. Noelle grimaced, adjusting to fill the gap, but the world is heavy and worms into the space before she can fill it. The cycle repeats, chipping away bit by bit.
She’s losing the battle. The pressure in her chest spreads outward until the cool air again kisses her fur. Darkness gains texture; texture becomes shape. The world resolves into an inky well, and far below her room lies waiting. She hovers there a moment – the bed unused, the couch abandoned, and a single crumpled monster over the desk.
She studies it: the unsteady rhythm in its shoulders, how its forearms fold over one another into a makeshift headrest. A waterfall of hair scattered like a golden veil over its back, hiding its face. Antlers jut out from its head at an awkward angle. It wears her checkered blouse, her black skirt. Noelle imagines rolling her shoulders. The monster mirrors the movements exactly.
The shield of denial cracked and the angel lost its wings. Plummeting down, what started as a leak became a torrent of unrelenting reality. The illusion of two became one again. Noelle was returned back to solid earth.
Picking up her head, she blinked, then groaned into her hands. Everything was too bright and the edges of the room continued to swim. Disoriented, Noelle shoved her hand – her left hand – across the desk, crashing into a cup of sharpened pencils and knocking it over. They scattered, most rolling to the floor save one or two. She followed one with half-lidded eyes, reaching for it with sluggish fingers. She lifted it into her hand, fingers sliding into a familiar groove. The texture was smooth, still unpleasant, but less so than expected. Curious.
Noelle pouted, twirling the stick with her thumb between her fingertips. The way the glossy finish made the wood glide against her fur was... well, it wasn't bad. The way the wood strained when she clamped it in her grip was even better. She pressed the flat of the tip against her desk, the graphite cracked at the wooden seam with a satisfying crunch.
Noelle flinched. "Pffft. Hahaha," she couldn't help but laugh. That was good: this was the kind of scary she liked. A friendly fright. She leaned back and took a steadying breath. "Okay," she said, slapping her cheeks. "I'm here. Kinda sorta."
Tempting as the urge to retreat into herself was, it seemed to be pretty useless. Never mind that it wouldn't do the job right – much to her dissatisfaction – the fact is her thoughts were dangerous. That's the world she lived in now. Kris, somehow, could read her internal monologue like an open book. She would think it and they would know. They would know then... then–
Noelle slammed her hoof into the ground. "They're not here. They're not," she deflected, trying to pull the rug from under her spiraling thoughts. That was twice now. More than anything she needed an anchor, something to keep her present or her thoughts would keep derailing and she wouldn't get anywhere. Fingers curling, she pressed them into the desk, feeling the smoothness of the polish. A tiny, grounding detail. A foothold.
"Mindfulness then," she enunciated every syllable, making each word coarse as it rolled off her tongue. "Use what you have."
Her attention bounced between the things in front of her: a small tree, a broken pencil, the graphite tip. All harmless, really. Noelle, rolling the broken off tip across the table, noted how much it resembled a small black thorn. Naturally, she flicked the bothersome thing off to be forgotten. Another motion swept the pencil to join its friends on the floor. The tree was... cool. Yeah. All green and pointy and brimming with holiday luster. Definitely not trying to avoid thinking about the ThornRing. No siree.
She wished her right hand didn't hurt. The ThornRing pinched in protest, lodged below the second knuckle of her ring finger, the surrounding skin still rosy and tender.
Noelle gave the unwanted gift some experimental tugs. The lack of give was disconcerting and every tug sent a sharp pain through her finger. The pulse in her hand spread, climbing up her arm, as if warning her to not try again. She hesitated. Noelle stole a glance at her door – still closed. Whatever worry she still had about Kris returning was fading faster with time.
Even so, Noelle sensed it. A whirl of emotion climbed from her gut, rising to a peak in her throat and shutting it with a kick. The pounding in her hand became thunder in her ears. Her forehead creased. Noelle's lips formed a line across her face. Was it that it couldn't come out because of Kris? Or that she wouldn't take it out because taking action meant proof? An undeniable admission.
She squeezed her eyes together; realization arrived in perfect, horrific clarity.
Kris had hurt her.
Her estranged-yet-beloved friend.
Her lifelong neighbor.
Her Krismas.
Noelle doubled over and howled, her voice tapering into a broken falsetto before exploding into a sob that wrecked her entire body. It didn't add up! Kris did this? Kris??
She pressed herself small, forcing the sound back into her chest, folding in on herself the way she always did until she could breathe again. The Kris she remembered was a little mean-spirited, sure. Maybe they're a little creepy too, but cruel? No. Never cruel. Never ever cruel. Last night they calmed her fears, soothed her worries. They acted like a totally different person!
And their voice? The one from her dream – that terrifying voice that made her blood run cold. Kris's voice didn't sound like that. So how come it left their lips!? It just... doesn't... make... sense!!
Tears fell, her chest heaved. What could she believe in? What changed in only one day? Had she never known them at all? She didn't understand, couldn't understand. Everything she knew—
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
So lost in her spiraling perplexity, Noelle almost vaulted from her chair, neck snapping to the source of the sound. The door. It came from the door.
"Noelle?" Carol's voice projected with a nervous candor. "Are you alright in there?"
Bewildered, mystified, flustered– none of them capture the utter speed at which the world tilted on its axis and left Noelle reeling in place.
"Mom?!"
It was the barely the middle of the day, worse still, it was a phenomena bordering on the impossible: Carol Holiday did not take sick days, did not leave work early, and never ever asked for entry in her own home.
"I'm coming in."
Ah. There it is.
"No!!" Panic surged and instinct usurped whatever spell kept her hooves rooted to the floor; Noelle launched forward, colliding with the door. The silence that followed lingered for only a moment.
"What?" Carol responded, awestruck in a way that Noelle could scantly remember. This was bad.
"You're ho-home early." she said, attempting to deflect. "Why?"
The door handle jiggled while Noelle fumbled her hands with the twisting lock, but the door did not swing open – much to her confusion – as it was already locked from the inside. Who could have...
"I received a call," Carol said, snapping Noelle back to the moment. The handle jiggled again. "Noelle are you alright?"
No, no she was not. But talking it out with her Mom? That was a non-starter. The 'Ice Queen' of Hometown did not check her crown at the door.
"I'm fine! Just peachy! Uhhhhm-" she stammered, sniffling, rubbing the budding tears from her eyes with her sleeve. She shot a desperate prayer to the Angel or anyone that she sounded convincing.
"And a poor liar—"
Of course she wasn't.
"...Noelle, open the door. Please." she said. The handle jiggled for a third time. While the Holiday matriarch's words didn't betray a treble of it, the budding annoyance in that small shake was deafening.
Noelle imagined this is what 'walking the plank' must be like: the anchor tied to your feet tossed overboard. Doom was coming and it was coming fast. She would open the door, pardon herself from this self-imposed execution, and back away from the edge of disaster. This was a no brainier.
"Uhm... no?"
Or, she'd double down.
"...Come again?"
"I said no."
Okay triple down?!
"I beg your pardon??"
This was a mistake.
"Mom please–"
"Young lady, you will open this door at once! I am not asking."
Noelle trembled, clenching her skirt, the fury piercing her heart like a dagger. She suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. Be anyone else. How was this happening? This was within an inch of belligerency! Mom was only trying to help, in her own misguided way sure, but it was out of a place of love!
"Just... ah– need a moment to–"
"What you need is to stop being defiant when all I'm trying to do is help you."
An acute band of pressure squeezed her head. Discomfort bubbled up from her solar plexus, hot and volatile.
"Then listen to what-!"
"You're acting like a child Noelle and If you don't open this door right now I'm–"
'She won't hear you.'
"You don't understand Mom, Kri–"
"This isn't about Kris."
Suddenly, the world shrunk down to a pinpoint.
"Just–"
"No Noelle, I will not "just". Open, the door. Now. I'm not telling you—"
"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!!"
Noelle exploded in a shrill roar, every syllable dripping with venomous grit. She didn't remember pulling her hand back, nor making a fist, but she did remember the punch. Oh yes she remembered the punch. The visceral catharsis of the knuckles on her right hand slamming into the door and the thundering boom left in its wake...
"...mpfhmhmmmnnnnnn..."
—was all lost to her just deserts: an arrow of brilliant pain that flew up her arm clear through to her shoulder. Noelle hissed, turned away, hunched over, wringing her wrist while wearing an expression of newly discovered consequences.
'CHEEZUS!!'
Somewhere between her pained huffs Noelle understood her profanities must have stayed an inside thought because all that followed her whine was unblemished silence. The quiet felled the broiling heat to low simmer and released her from her rage. It was only then it dawned on her what had just happened.
She... punched... the door??
She punched the door.
Oh God she punched the door!
Noelle froze, stupefied. She waited for the explosion, the outrage. Nothing followed. She opened her mouth to speak, to fill the void with anything that might break this gut-wrenching tension, but nothing came. A pit lodged itself in her gut, her mind coming to terms with the fact of the matter: Carol Holiday had been stunned silent.
"...Noelle?" Carol whispered. It was brittle, desperate in a way Noelle hadn't heard since she was a fawn. "Sweetie, please..." she said, each dripping with fresh concern. "Talk to me."
For a flicker Noelle considered it, she really did. Where would she even begin? The last twenty-four hours was a wash of 'ifs' and utter fantasy, not to mention a real chance that confiding in her mother might actually make the situation worse. There was also a lingering bitterness: moments ago her mom seemed more than willing to ignore her explanations. She was tired, conflicted, and frankly overwhelmed. Noelle sighed, thoughts buzzing and empathy in short supply.
'This isn't the time,' she decided.
"I've got a lot on my mind," Noelle mumbled, testing the waters. "I can't— won't pretend I'm okay. I'm sorry for scaring you. I-" she rolled the next words on her tongue and found them agreeable. "...just want some time to think. Please?"
Carol didn't interrupt or respond right away. Noelle didn't mind. "Would you be willing to talk to me about it after you've taken some time?"
Noelle hummed. Now her mom was asking, actually asking, for time to talk. She enjoyed no small sense of satisfaction at that; her finger throbbed. Even if the method was ugly the outcome was becoming increasingly pleasant. Noelle took another steadying breath, considered her words, then spoke.
"Sure Mom. How about during dinner?" she offered.
"That sounds good." Carol answered in relief. "As for your company," Carol hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. "We'll address it then as well. I've sent them away. I'll... work from home for the afternoon, do you need any—"
"No ma'am." Noelle interjected, not letting her mom finish the offer.
"Alright then." Carol accepted, then in a softer tone. "I love you, Noelle."
"I love you too."
And that was it – no new words broke the quiet again. The dull tap of heels began, in succession grew softer, then blended into the background. A different sort of tapping started as if brought in on an indiscernible cue. One mute plunk became many more became a mellow pitter-patter; rain drummed against the windows.
Noelle let out the longest giggle of her life. Years of conformity painted on a surreal color to it all. She defended her self-determination. From her mother. By herself!
"Hah... what is even everything?" Noelle wobbled back wearing a giddy smile, letting the rain lull her towards the window. "This is all so... so..." she trailed off. "...unreal."
She stumbled onto the couch, casting an arm across the white throw blanket with her gaze following the sound of lashing water. Noelle listened, flicking her ears up and resting her head on her arm. The rain and air conditioning made for a pleasant white noise. The blanket was feather soft too. Clouds dimming the natural light made the room seem brighter, amiable even. As if the outrage moments ago was a gentle lie.
Yet time pressed on and cast her thoughts out. The currents of her mind pulled themselves back to yesterday – it really hadn't been more than a day – a study session turned into a nightmare; so vivid and fantastic she fooled herself that it was a dream. Noelle mentally kicked herself. Even after seeing Kris wearing her watch, a proof so utterly complete it should have broken the lie in an instant, she continued denying the truth.
Noelle leered to her side, longing over the empty space for a person who couldn't be there. The appetite for connection persisted even now, exposed, raw to the touch, and implicit. This wasn't the fool's relief she coddled with for years. This feeling she could trust. Kris was going to come back. Noelle knew; the thorn was better than any surety. It was so... Kris-like. Noelle enjoyed the flutter of familiar warmth at the idea. A good familiar.
It wasn't even all bad. Forgetting all the ugly parts this entire fiasco would make this a dream come true. Kind of? She took from the experience and became better. Acting with confidence? Putting herself first? Taking what she wanted? It felt good– sharp, strange even. Like using a muscle she hadn’t known existed.
She also considered that she was only making the most out of a bad situation. She didn't ask to be dragged into that Cyber World. She didn't choose to be kidnapped by Queen. She didn't want to be left alone in a big city without a friend is sight! Teaming up with Kris was the obvious choice at the time, there was no way of knowing where Susie was, after all. How long would she have wandered alone before bumping into Queen or Berdly and—
Trepidation bubbled up her chest, rising to her throat and seized it tight in an invisible vice. She gulped for air, overcome with a foreboding pressure so terrible Noelle clenched her eyes shut. She could still see it, she could see the snow. Endless snow. She didn't want to remember this: it wasn't her fault! She told him to run. Why didn't he run?!
Noelle wanted to curl into a ball; wanted to ram her antlers into the wall; wanted to find Kris and shake them until they gave her answers! Overwhelmed, she whimpered and whined with her head in her hands. She wanted to not hurt, for her mom to respect her, for her dad to get better, for Dess to come home. Every choice she made was wrong, yet even now she wanted to hope. Hope that Kris would come back, that Berdly would wake up, that she would feel normal again.
Thinking hurt and making choices brought more pain. For what?! What was she even trying to achieve anymore?!
Maybe she just needed to stop: do nothing and stay here. Easy enough, familiar even. A good familiar that-
... ... ...
...huh? No- no that wasn't right. Good familiar? The good girl that wanted nothing, asked for nothing, did everything she was told and more? Years and years of wait and see and hope and fear? No. She knew, she knew better than anyone it was a trap.
So... what then? Waiting was no good. Thinking it through ran headfirst into snow. Which meant she needed to act. All she could do was act. Noelle didn't think, there was only an instinct to survive.
She drove her elbows to her knees and shot a closed fist into a waiting palm, pressing her snout into the crevice created between them. Pain blossomed out from the ThornRing, flowering with a certain power, purging her thoughts, the snow, everything it touched. She bared down hard until her heart pounded in her ears. Nostrils flaring, Noelle pursed her lips and grit her teeth. It was only the moment before the pain would've ripped her voice from her throat she relented, pain retreating with only a beating finger left behind.
A flash of feeling she couldn't name, then suffocating calm. She exhaled. The world became present. Tangible. Noelle peeked her head from her hands.
Confronting herself wasn't working, that was evident. So maybe she could do it indirectly? How? She couldn't think of anything. If there wasn't a way to proceed from-
Something clicked.
An absurd idea.
She remembered reading a long time ago that inspiration was tied inexorably to the subconscious mind. Where all desires and dreams intermingled without judgment.
Noelle smacked her lips together, rolled her tongue across her teeth, and folded her hands in her lap.
Yeah, best not ponder too long on that one.
Lots of that goin' 'round lately.'
This shouldn't work; it was beyond dumb.
'It will,' it answered. 'You know it will.'
Her thoughts responded in her voice. This wasn't resonating in the way she hoped: it was too similar to her own internal monologue to be effective.
'Correct,' the voice replied. You're on the right track. Verbalize your response to better draw a distinction.'
"This is dumb. I'm dumb for trying this."
'If it works it's not stupid,' the voice responded matter-of-factly. Her breathing evened before she realized she'd followed the advice. ‘Make small changes. Maybe a different voice? Something that comes natural.'
Noelle closed her eyes, attempting to shift her focus to polling for a better speaker, but the thoughts were slower to come now and that ones that came were unfocused, foggy.
'Trust your instinct. Use the obvious answer.'
"Ha..." It really was.
'Shift my speech to fit,' The tone shifted warmer, softer. Good familiar. 'Try mimicking their style.'
"They were... snappy. Direct." Noelle whispered. The effort was made both easier and harder by her progressing lassitude. It needed the right amount of focus on the idea while also being unaware of the scheme... uh...?
'...Suggestion,' it confirmed in a soft, deadpan mumble. 'Deep breaths. Exhale slowly. My voice will lead.'
It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact. The doe shuddered, yet, did not pull away. It was all pretend, right? So why did hearing those words in that voice make her heart want to...
'You trust me.'
Noelle sensed an internal shift and the world seemed to pull away. She was falling slowly, deeply down somewhere known in part and unknown in others. When she opened her eyes they were half-lidded, her body sluggish. Everything felt warm, like laying down in bed after a long day.
'I have you. You're safe. Move with me.'
Moving was the last thing she wanted to do.
'You don't gotta move yourself. Follow my voice.'
Even as she fell, understanding dawned on her. This voice: one that was hers but not hers. Not a stranger – an arrangement. Action and inaction. Playing both sides of herself. A balance, not rooted in the ground but kept through motion. They push, she pulls. An equilibrium. They ebb, she flows. They command-
'Stand.'
—she obeys. She is upright, but the movement is wrought with tension, like trying to waddle through a thick sludge. Her mind in contrast? Humming with vigor. Connections are broken and reforged stronger. Lessons once known are unknown, then reform anew. There is a realignment, pointed, powerful, and mercifully silent.
'Ground yourself.'
Noelle jammed her thumb inside her ring finger. She barely registers the pain. The sky meets the earth and the pain ebbs away.
'Go to the door. Listen.'
She stepped forward, imagining her hooves pulled down with weights. Because that was the trick-
'-helpless, but not powerless.'
"Mhm." she grunted. It was all she could muster.
'One step at a time.'
Ignoring her fallen pencils that crunched underfoot she slumped against the door, pinning an ear against it. The whirl of the air conditioning and nothing else.
'In her room,' it assumed. 'Into the hallway.'
The lock disengaged with a ca-thunk. The sound seemed to echo louder than it should have.
'Close it behind you.'
Her hand slid against the door. She didn't need to look.
'That's right. Because I'm here.'
As you should be.
'Go.'
She turned and moved, counting doors without meaning to. One. Two. Three. The other end of the hall.
'The bathroom door. Stop.'
She did.
'Inside.'
She picked her hands up. She blinked. She was in the bathroom. Without being told, she fastened the deadbolt behind her.
'Good girl.'
That was a jolt to the heart, automatic, and unfairly comforting. Noelle couldn't escape the blush that followed. "Why do you keep saying that?!"
'You tell me.'
She pouted. "Don't be an ass."
'-mmm'not the one talkin' about themselves.'
Noelle rolled her eyes but couldn't help crack a smile – a real one. This banter was the best kind of familiar.
'I do my best.'
"Uh-huh. You're a real firework." Her eyes drifted left, away from the voice. A pristine white bathtub with the curtain drawn. She didn't hesitate, at least not long enough to matter.
'Don't need me for this part?' it asked. Noelle imagined Kris's know-it-all smile.
Noelle didn’t answer right away.
"Nope." she threw the curtain open. "Don't really want to think about the uhm..." she paused, popping open the buttons on her checker vest one-by-one. "-deeper implications of having shower thoughts with Kris."
'I mean you already feel dirty enough to get in the shower, maybe...'
Red light from her nose cast off the white tile, gleaming dim. "Pass!"
'Well darn.' it drolled. 'Guess you'll have to settle for the trauma.'
"We're already waist deep. I think... I've almost figured something out."
'Mhm. You had it before if you didn't scare yourself off.'
"I'm pretty good at that. Pfftah!" She discarded her vest.
'The best around.' Gosh. She missed this. 'Want me to set you up?'
"Sure, sure," she waved it off. A fresh satisfaction washed over her fur from some unseen wellspring. That felt good. Noelle turned her back to "Kris" and stepped into the shower and drew the veil for privacy.
'Touchy. Touchy. Wonder where that came from?' Noelle could practically taste the sarcasm.
Noelle didn't bother with the rest of her wardrobe, instead her hand closed around the faucet. An implicit threat to end the conversation.
'Water turns on. I turn it off. 'Kay.'
"Exactly that."
'Tsk-tsk-tsk. Not two minutes ago, me being in control was a good thing? Ahh but that's always been the problem – all bark and no buck.' Its voice didn't contain a drop of malice. As if it was still playing. 'But you know this. Are you going back?'
A question with an easy answer.
"I'm not."
'Good girl.' It sounded pleased. 'That fire is good. As for your next steps...' it paused, if only for dramatic effect '...you boiled it down to ACT’ing, and that's also good. Do you know why you didn't choose that before?'
That was a stupid question. She already knew the answer.
"No good choice."
'Very good. Knowing that, tell me: what was your mistake up to now?'
She almost said it. Almost. That was the trap.
'Wrong! You said no more running away. I’m here, I'm pushing. You *will* pull.'
Noelle grimaced, staring at the basin. Her blood rushed to her head. There was no outside threat; the danger was in herself. Her prey instincts were screaming at her: Stop!! Stay away!! Begging her not to pull on that thread.
'Ebb and flow.'
Balance through motion.
'Command...'
Her mouth opened.
'Speak.'
"That not-" her breathing hitched, voice cracking as a wall of nothing slammed into her chest, heavy as gravity. She took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and spat the words free.
"That not choosing–" she swallowed. “–was never a choice at all."
'VERY good girl.' its voice sounded ferocious, warm, and feral all at once. 'All of your options – all of them – are total SHIT. So ask yourself, look deep inside and ask yourself, my *deer*-'
Noelle, still half dressed and shaking, wrenched the knob as far as it would turn. Water spat forward like a geyser. She propped herself against the wall.
It was simple: if hell is waiting no matter what, then the only thing left to care about is the payoff...
"-who am I, and what do I want?"
She sniffled, rubbing the beginnings of tears from her eyes. She leaned over and threw her head under the water – letting it deafen the world. Noelle clenched her hands and her finger throbbed. White noise and the potent, familiar pain. The world narrowed.
Doing nothing left her where she was. All she'd do is brew in place, never wanting. The pain refused. In turn, so did she. Never, ever again.
Keep Kris away? That would be safer. Cleaner too. Whatever this was, it would end – after the fallout, anyway. She wouldn’t even lose anything. Nothing that counted. But… would that even work? If Kris was even a fraction as determined as she was trying to be–
Noelle shook her head.
Keep Kris close? What does that look like?
Noelle’s gaze slipped to her ring finger. Its presence and Kris knotted together. It hurt, sure, but it had already helped her. More than once. Wasn’t that strange?
Yes.
But strange wasn’t bad. It couldn’t be, not when… it just works.
She snorted, letting the warm water pull her back into the moment. "You LITERALLY stabbed my hand!" She gestured with the arm wildly. "How am I... not upset with you?"
Stranger still, the longer she sat with it, the less it felt like a problem. Less like damage. Every pulse hurt. Every beat kept her in place. Focused. Stable. It helped her. That was harder to swallow. When she thought about Kris, the instinct returned: the thorn was better than any surety.
No one gives something like that and walks away.
Kris wouldn’t.
They wouldn’t.
She had missed them enough to hurt. But they weren’t gone. The pain throbbed again. Kris, answering without words. She didn’t need more proof.
"Being with you..." Noelle's stomach fluttered up into her beating heart. She couldn’t finish the sentence. She scrubbed her eyes, burying the unspoken words under a heavy pile of snow.
But the feeling was unstoppable – confusing, electric, warm. Familiar.
Good familiar.
The water rolled over her shoulders. Noelle lifted her head, threw it back, and simply laughed. She laughed until her chest burned, until her cheeks ached. The world was distant. That was fine. It would return. Just like Kris had. Just like they would tomorrow.
There was more for her mind to chew on, stubborn as she was, but it lagged behind what her heart already knew: the angst was all formality. She would sit here however long it took for her to purge whatever doubts lingered. Connections broken, again reforged, and made unbreakable.
With a fleeting giggle, Noelle brought her hand up, smiled, then mashed the ThornRing to her lips.
The juxtaposition was unreal. A soft ache, the texture of the kiss, melting into a buzz that throbbed at the base of her skull. Noelle pulled back only to smash her lips back down. She chased the feeling. Her body protested, the buzz rising higher, burning stronger. She kissed the thorn again, and again. She couldn't stop. She didn’t want to.
Her mind drifted to Kris; her body answered first – warmth blooming low and rising up until it caught fire in her chest. Tears slipped free of old fears. Her body knew the score before she did, that’s just how deep the hurt was. Where the doubt once festered, something quieter spread its roots – steady, unshakable.
In staggered breaths, Noelle relented. Eyes rich with a new fondness that wouldn't fade.
Tomorrow, she would see Kris. A ride on the Ferris wheel was going to be the least of their rewards. And with some luck she might learn more about whatever Kris (and Susie) were dealing with. On a fundamental level she understood: change was coming.
And for the first time in a long time, Noelle hoped it would be good.