Archive of Our Own

A typical orchestra season began in September and lasted until May—no, June at the latest, usually when a member in the administration was incompetent or cruel enough to overbook. Sometimes Cecilia participated in the summer festive ensemble. Those years she invited her parents to a Christmas show, paid for their plane tickets and hotel to ensure their attendance. They never questioned the extra work she took on then and held their tongue when Cecilia once again couldn't make it home.

Leisure came in the form of video calls, late night gaming sessions. Often, Cecilia rolled her eyes when Gigi or Raora interrogated her and offered a laugh when Elizabeth worried about her. "It's work," she said. "Nothing I can't handle."

It was demanding, it was constant, it was perfect. A year's worth of excuses Cecilia tucked in her pocket at all times. A shield with no holes.

"You're twitching," Gigi said.

Until now.

Cecilia's frown deepened. "Am not." She checked herself on the monitor, Raora's exasperated image right beside hers. Her eye may or may not have been twitching a little.

"So," Raora piped up, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What does that mean? The whole season's canceled over some little flood?"

"On hold," Cecilia corrected. "And it's not little, Raora, I already told you." She personally wouldn't describe water seeping into the carpet and wooden steps as minor anyway. It threatened mold throughout the auditorium's ground floor and any worse could potentially damage the stage.

Cecilia first blamed it on the city's architecture, suited for dry weather and in utter chaos when so much as a puddle littered the streets. She then blamed the administration for not predicting this. Finally, the blame befell on Gigi for suggesting to audition for them in the first place because "they seemed cool and rich."

At least Elizabeth had the decency to look remorseful. "Will you be okay with rent? If you need help, maybe I can—"

"Aw, Liz!" Straightening her posture, Cecilia shook her head. "You don't need to lend me anything, promise." Her shitty apartment costed more than it was worth, but it was relatively cheaper compared to the rest of the city. Why splurge on a home she was barely in? "We're not being paid while the theatre's getting repaired, but I have a bunch of money saved up."

"'Not being paid?!'" Gigi's voice blared out Cecilia's speakers, making the latter wince. "Damn. Down with capitalism."

"Down with capitalism," Cecilia agreed.

"Do you know how long it'll be in maintenance?" Raora asked.

This part, Cecilia was forced to admit, was the fault of nobody else. Cecilia could attribute it on stress taking its toll—the need to vent blinding her—but it didn't change the fact she alone left herself vulnerable.

Cecilia groaned. "The email said three weeks, three and a half at most." She waited for the cacophony of responses. An empathetic sigh from Elizabeth, a "yikes" muttered from Raora. Gigi's reaction Cecilia was fifty-fifty. The girl was as likely to complain about Cecilia having a break—leaving Gigi to suffer employment alone—as she was to cheering now that Cecilia had no choice but to play League with her.

Instead, Cecilia was met with silence. She paused, glancing down at her settings. Weird, she thought. She didn't accidentally mute herself and her connection was solid.

Three pairs of eyes gaped at her through the computer. Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Why're you all looking at me like that?"

"Did you say three weeks?" Gigi asked.

"Uh, yeah?"

"So you're free for almost a month."

"Gigi, I said y—" Realization came at Cecilia strong, but too late. She cleared her throat. "No, I'm not."

"But you just said yes."

Closing her eyes, Cecilia internally cursed. "I lied."

"Uh huh," Raora murmured. When Cecilia cracked an eye open, she saw Raora grinning like a predator who caught her lunch.

"I'm in extreme debt! I'm balancing…" Cecilia pondered for a moment. "Three jobs right now."

Elizabeth cracked a smile. "You once said you barely had time to breathe, let alone get another job."

Curse you, past Cece! "I'm married," she deadpanned.

Gigi laughed. "Not for long, if that's the best lie you can come up with."

Cecilia gasped, heat blooming up her neck. "Liz, Liz!" she whined, loud enough to be heard over Raora's cackling. "Liz, did you hear what Gigi said?"

She did, if her eyes being squeezed shut with pain written all over her face was any indication. Elizabeth tried schooling her expression, clearing her throat and setting her jaw.

However, Cecilia caught the corner of her mouth lifting.

"You're all awful," Cecilia said. "So what if I'm free? What, do you expect me to stop everything and drop by unannounced?"

"Not like you're doing anything," Gigi shrugged.

"Why not call your parents first, then?" Raora wiped the tears from her eyes, soft giggles still trickling out of her. "It'll be a surprise, sure, but a welcome one!"

She has a point. Sighing, Cecilia slouched against the desk as she rested her chin on her fist. She could announce she'd arrive at her parent's home in an hour and neither of her parents would complain. Still, the rebuttals to her every argument—the inevitability to impending doom—made Cecilia all the more resistant, like a dog gently shoved into a cage.

"But there's nothing to do there!" Cecilia insisted. "I'll die of boredom."

"You won't be bored if we tag along," Elizabeth said. "I've been overdue on a visit myself."

"Well—" Cecilia racked her brain. Elizabeth and Raora's jobs were flexible, both able to work from wherever as long as they had internet. But Gigi… "Gigi works at an office, she can't go on vacation without approval first."

Elizabeth hesitated, slightly frowning. "True."

Cecilia's eyes widened, biting the inside her cheek. She knew she looked silly, spotting a light at the end of the tunnel.

Laughing, Gigi snuffed it out. "What are they gonna do, fire me?"

And just like that, it was Gigi's fault again.

Spring was too cold here. Berlin winters were bitter and biting, but at least temperatures made sense year round. Meanwhile, her hometown was known for its spring showers and sunny days giving way to high winds.

Standing in the hallway, Cecilia shivered in a gray overcoat. She held her luggage in one hand and her violin case in the other.

"Are you that cold?" her mother whispered.

"Of course I am, you guys never use the heater."

"Nonsense. I'll get you some more blankets." In other words, nobody was messing with the thermostat. "Go ahead and settle in. Don't worry, we didn't touch anything."

Cecilia feigned a pout. "Which means my room's all dusty?"

"I'll have you know that dust was from before you left."

A laugh spilled from Cecilia's lips, one she toned down when her mother shushed her. She pushed the door open for Cecilia, the opaque lighting from the hall blending into the gloom that was the girl's bedroom. She already spotted some of her childhood toys.

Without flicking on the lightswitch, Cecilia slipped by and dropped her suitcase by the door. Besides the bedsheets appearing freshly laundered, her mother wasn't lying about leaving everything alone.

The curtains were pulled aside, revealing cookie-cut houses lined down their street. Most of their windows were pitch black, reminding Cecilia the town was asleep. She scoffed.

Unfortunately for Cecilia, her internal clock wasn't going to let her sleep at a reasonable hour. It didn't help that she knocked out for most of the layover and flight home. What else was she supposed to do? Plane rides were too quiet and she sat next to Elizabeth, a sentient heater.

However, she took comfort in knowing Gigi and Raora were suffering along with her. They were still sleeping when the plane landed and everyone shuffled out. Gigi even got drool all over Raora's shoulder.

Dust coated her desk in a thick layer. Too lazy to fetch a cloth, Cecilia used her sleeve to make a swipe down the wood. "Ew." She patted the dirt off her, gently placing her violin case atop the clean area. Beside her instrument were a stack of notebooks.

Cecilia stared. Years passed and yet she recognized each and every one. Most contained class notes, while two were a result of her getting dragged into Gigi's journaling habit. On top—plain purple, the one with the least scratches, the least bent pages—was a notebook bearing neither.

She grabbed it, her thumb running along the edges. Hesitation clung to her fingertips, made her hover longer than necessary. After a deep exhale, she flipped to a random page.

"Cecilia?"

Startling, Cecilia slammed the notebook shut. She turned to find her mother under the doorway, a mountain of comforters blocking half her visage.

"Were you busy?" she asked.

"No, just spacing out."

Her mother dumped the blankets atop Cecilia's bed with a grunt, the latter making a face. "Mom, I don't need that much."

"You do," her mother said stubbornly. "You're shaking like a drowned rat."

Dramatic, in Cecilia's opinion, and very specific. A newborn deer made a cuter image.

"Are you tired?" Her mother started fixing the bed, shooing Cecilia when she tried helping. "If not, I can stay up with you and brew us some tea."

Tea sounded great, especially in this weather.

"I can tell you how everyone here's been doing," she continued.

It took Cecilia a moment too long to answer. "I'm pretty tired," she lied. "I stayed awake the entire flight, so it's easier adjusting to the timezone."

Cecilia's mother gave her a long look, before smiling. "Alright. Good night, kleine."

She wrapped Cecilia in a tight hug before leaving her alone. Cecilia watched her go, rolling her eyes when her mother forgot to close the door. It was like she never left.

Her eyes fell back to the notebook in her hands. She tossed it back into the pile, before she had second thoughts.

"Why's your instrument case in the kitchen?"

Cecilia poked her head out of the fridge, frozen grapes stuffed in her mouth.

Raora took one look at her, laughed, and sat atop the granite counter.

Swallowing, Cecilia shut the appliance's door and leaned back against it. "I see my mom forgot to lock up."

"She let me in, actually." Raora flashed a smile, awfully proud Cecilia's mother favored her over her own flesh and blood.

"Ugh." Cecilia pushed herself off the fridge and collected her violin, slinging the fibre strap over her shoulder. "Weather app said it wouldn't be windy today." For once. "Figured a change of scenery would be good for practice."

"Does the musician take requests?" Raora asked.

Cecilia's lips quirked up. "Not for free."

"Boo! You're no fun."

There was no opportunity to sightsee before, what with the Uber's tinted windows and Gigi unintentionally egging the driver on to disregard the speed limit. Now, led by Raora to one of their favorite cafés, Cecilia scrutinized every change. Or lack thereof.

Same cracked sidewalks, same old-fashioned streetlights. Elizabeth and the others told her as much from their past visits, but it was still surreal experiencing it herself.

"How come Liz and Gigi didn't come with you?" Cecilia asked.

"They're swamped with work, but they snagged us a table. But Gigi, uh—" Raora stopped herself.

"Oh nonono." Annoyance already crept into Cecilia's tone. "Say it. What's happening with Gigi now?"

"She may have booked a bunch of meetings back to back," she winced empathetically. "She won't be able to move for… three hours?"

"'Three hours?!' Making us hoard a table for that long, is she stupid?" They were going to look like posers at worst and rude at best.

"I don't think I should answer that."

Cecilia stopped in her tracks, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If you guys just left me alone, she wouldn't be suffering and forcing us down with her."

"Well," Raora shrugged. "Y'know what Liz says. Success demands sacrifice."

"When did she say that?"

Raora's stride stopped soon after. She hummed, mulling it over. "When did she say that?"

"What," Cecilia grumbled. "Honestly. Raora, I don't get why you're all so persistent on me coming here."

"Cece. Didn't you miss your parents?"

"No." Raora looked horrified. "I call them all the time! And when I want to see them, I can pay for their plane tickets."

"Wouldn't it be simpler to visit?" Raora asked.

"Usually, I'm too busy," Cecilia reminded her, the excuse flowing like running water. "And I can afford it."

"What about us?"

"I see you guys even more than my parents! We've met up in Berlin, in Rome—"

"And now here!" A grimace settled on Raora's features, but it held no malice, not really. "You're already back home, Cece. Why not enjoy it?"

Because she couldn't.

"At least try," Raora poked at Cecilia's side. "Pretty please, for me?"

Cecilia snorted. "Oh, why didn't you say so? Consider me convince—"

Raora pushed Cecilia's shoulder. "You're so mean!"

Giggles sprang from Cecilia's windpipe, the girl yanking Raora's sleeve to find her footing again.

Pointedly ignoring Cecilia, Raora huffed as she continued down the tree-lined sidewalk. She ambled rather than stomped away, which allowed Cecilia to catch up without trying.

A few blocks more and they'd reach the café. The morning breeze was gentle and Cecilia glanced up, watching the leaves flutter. It was nice… maybe she did miss this kind of peace, miss the quiet she could never find in the city.

She also missed the person blocking her path.

"Jesus!" Cecilia was thrown from her thoughts as she stumbled back.

The person before her didn't fall—it was embarrassing how far Cecilia flew—but dropped their notebook in the collision. Loose papers slid from the journal, scattering atop the pavement.

"S-sorry," the person said.

"Don't," Cecilia snapped. She winced. "I mean it's my fault. Wasn't looking." She crouched and began to gather the papers together.

The person joined her, their hands antsy. Must be important. Guilt gnawed at Cecilia as she snuck a look their way. Their hoodie was pulled low, covering their eyes, most of their face. Dappled shadows lingered atop the bare skin of their legs.

"Thanks, rival."

"Yeah, no problem." Cecilia straightened the pile in her hands, sparing them a glance. She stilled, hands threatening to let the papers free once more. "What did you say?"

They laughed then, a scratchy yet soft thing. Pulling back the gray hood, they revealed what Cecilia had sought to ignore—forget.

Purple hair that barely grazed the girl's neck, eyes that were more crescents under a widening smile. "For the record," she started. "I didn't bump into you on purpose."

There were a million ways Cecilia could've responded. A greeting, a quip, a simple Ina. Instead quietly, dumbly, she uttered, "you cut your hair."

Ina blinked, hand shooting up to touch the feathered ends. "Oh yeah!" She laughed again. Happy? Uncomfortable? "Guess I did have long hair before you left."

It took a second for Cecilia to register Ina getting up. Stretching, Ina sighed in relief and offered her hand.

Cecilia took it, letting herself be pulled. If she was stupid, she would've turned around and booked it. Common sense didn't make the idea any less tempting.

Eye contact was difficult, but bearable. What acted as a pleasant breeze was now a chill down Cecilia's spine, the girl fighting a shiver. The silence was too pointed to settle, too dense to hang between them and instead stood between them like a wall.

At least it was for Cecilia. If Ina noticed the tension, she didn't care to address it, unveiled curiosity bringing a gleam to those dark eyes. "So."

"…So," Cecilia mumbled.

"The honorable Cecilia Immergreen finally stops by for a visit," Ina teased.

"'Honorable.'" She scoffed, unable to help it. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," Ina insisted. "Your mom posts your concert flyers online. All the parents like it, you never see them?"

Cecilia's face scrunched up. She wouldn't be caught dead using that outdated, AI-ridden compost her parents and other old people called a social platform. She pictured her mother using a filter that rendered the flyer pasty, the words barely coherent.

"Why show up now?"

Cecilia flinched. "H-huh?"

"Little random you're visiting now, that's all. It's the middle of March."

"Ah," Cecilia breathed. "I finally had free time so. Here I am." She failed to mention her friends having to force her.

"I'm glad." Ina held out her hand. Cecilia stared at it, then glanced up. "My papers, Cece," she said, a chuckle warming her words.

"Right! Right." Cecilia handed them to Ina, careful not to touch her accidentally. "I knew that."

"How long will you be here?"

"A month." No point in lying, Cecilia figured.

"A month," Ina tested the words. "Then, I'll see you around."

Oh, god. "Probably."

Ina waved goodbye and continued walking, but Cecilia didn't relax; she watched Ina's retreating figure, daylight peeking through the leaves and stroking her hair.

Only when Ina was out of earshot did Cecilia give a huge sigh, shoulders slumping. "Great." She turned on her heel, finding Raora beside her. She jumped back. "What the he—"

"What was that?" Raora asked.

"You were watching?!" Shame brought heat to her cheeks. "And you didn't think to say anything?"

Raora was silent for a moment, eyebrows retreating behind her bangs. "I didn't get a chance to jump in. Seriously, what was that?"

"Nothing, Raora. Drop it."

"It didn't look li—" Raora stopped when she saw Cecilia's face. "…Well, hurry up. Liz and Gigi are waiting."

"Fine."

Raora walked ahead the rest of the way, not bothering to look back and check on her. Cecilia was grateful.

"Thanks," Cecilia said.

"You owe me a coffee."

Cecilia groaned. "Of course I do."

The last time Cecilia brewed a cappuccino was more than four years ago. Not that she'd ever create that devil's drink by choice.

Practicing was crucial for her job, the oil needed for a running car, but sometimes she got bored! Unfortunately, in Gigi's twisted mind, being bored meant being available. An innocent complaint on call led to Cecilia working behind Orange Blossom's counter, the same café Gigi made them loiter in a few days ago.

"I can handle the coffee," Elizabeth piped up. "You just take the orders and serve the desserts."

"Oh, thank god."

The man across the counter, surprised, blinked twice.

Oops. "Here you are, sir." Cecilia slid a tray containing a slice of cake and iced latte towards him. "You can go now."

Something was on the man's mind, mouth flopping like a dying fish, but he decided against it and retreated with his order.

"Cece," Elizabeth chided. She stood behind the espresso machine, checking the portafilters to see if they needed to be cleaned. "Where's your customer service smile?"

Cecilia flashed a grin in response, too wide and too blockish to be considered natural. "Like this?"

Elizabeth snorted, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

Feeling the strain on her face, Cecilia dropped the act and massaged her jaw. "Where the hell's Gigi?" she asked. "She begs us to become baristas again and she won't even help?"

"She's in the back with Fauna."

"'With Fauna.'" Cecilia glimpsed at the employee lounge, the door slightly ajar.

"Gigi's helping come up with new menu items, since she's in marketing. Maybe plan some promotions that could boost sales."

How high could sales go in a town like this? "Sure."

Elizabeth removed the basket from one of the portafilters, then paused. "I'm sure it's completely professional, Cece."

"Are they being G-rated professional?"

"…PG-13 professional at worst."

"Bleh!" Cecilia stuck her tongue out. She couldn't even mock Gigi for this when she showed herself, since Fauna was so nice and Gigi was so shameless. "You can get mad at Gigi too, Liz. I won't tell."

"I don't mind." Elizabeth shrugged and slot the basket back in, slapping her hand over the metal to keep it secure. "It'll be helpful."

"How does working as a barista again help you—" Cecilia made a face. "It's for Shiori, isn't it?"

"Shiori wants her books as accurate as possible," Elizabeth admitted, her tone meeker, a blush dusting her cheeks. "This is research."

"You guys make me sick."

A bell chimed in the café, signaling a new customer stepped inside. Not bothering to hide her disinterest, Cecilia slumped against the counter. "Welcome."

Then, she turned towards the entrance and spotted Ina studying her surroundings. Cecilia jolted up and hid behind Elizabeth.

"Cece?"

"How about I make the coffee after all?" Cecilia suggested, settling her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders.

"I'm fine, actually." Elizabeth tilted her head towards Cecilia, smile questioning. "What are you doing?"

Tutting, Cecilia shook her head. Her thumbs worked deep circles over shoulder blades. "I don't know, Liz. You feel soooo tense."

"Really?"

"Ye—"

"Hello?"

Fuck! Cecilia bit the inside of her cheek, lest the curse slip from her lips.

She and Elizabeth found Ina by the register, presumably waiting for her order to be taken.

Elizabeth glanced at Cecilia next, who blatantly ignored her gaze.

Tightening the apron around her waist, Cecilia approached Ina. "What can I get you?"

"I'd just like my usual, please," Ina said. "A hibiscus tea."

Cecilia hummed in approval. She pretended the fact didn't linger awkwardly in the back of her mind. If she was a regular, there was no reason for her to inspect the place, as if searching for something.

"I'll get that for you, Ina," Elizabeth said gently. "Go on, take a seat."

There were two ways this could go. A few seats were available on the counter, but there wasn't much room. Meanwhile the unoccupied tables held plenty of leg space and guaranteed more solitude—

And Ina took a seat on the counter. Which was fine.

At least Ina didn't initiate small talk, instead rummaging in her backpack to take out several notebooks. She flipped one open, the page falling to a half-finished illustration.

Not knowing what to do, Cecilia drummed her finger against the wood. She was still getting used to short hair on Ina. It was different today though, poofier—curlier?—instead of a straight bob.

Elizabeth nudged her as she brushed past, placing a teacup and saucer in front of Ina. "Here you are, dear."

"Ooh." Delight lit up Ina's face, eyes curving from her smile. Carefully lifting the cup, she blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip. "Lovely, Liz. Thank you."

"Do you want—" Cecilia started, stumbling when Ina looked at her. "Er, you want dessert with that?"

"Maybe next time." Ina said. "I splurged on art supplies recently so…"

"Uh huh."

Cecilia's eyes shifted to the right. The bakery's display case was refrigerated, displaying desserts such as tarts and cakes. Sliding the glass doors open, Cecilia took a piece of cheesecake, placing it next to the saucer. "It's on the house, so don't try to give it back."

"Is that allowed?" Ina asked.

"Of course. Maybe."

Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"I'll pay for it!" Cecilia shot back.

"Well, thanks." Cecilia swore she caught a glint in Ina's eye. "I see you want your rival in tiptop shape as always."

Rival. Cecilia remembered Ina addressing her as such last time too. "Why do you keep bringing that up?" she muttered. "We're not children anymore."

The words were sour on her tongue. She hated it.

It didn't wipe the smile off Ina's face. Elizabeth gave a hearty laugh as if she couldn't help it.

"You kept this rival charade up all the way 'til senior year," Elizabeth reminded her. "Something you started."

"We both started it," shot out of Cecilia's mouth before she could help it.

"Huh?" Ina pointed at herself. "How did I start it?"

By being you. Cecilia frowned. "Just drink your tea before it gets cold."

Business was slow as Ina partook in her meal, her smile never leaving as she ate her cheesecake. Ina always did have a sweet tooth.

When Ina got up from her seat, Cecilia rounded the corner to reach her. "Leave your dishes here, I'll clean up."

Ina nodded and Cecilia waited for her to leave.

"Um," Ina said. "Are you booked for the rest of your visit?"

Cecilia hesitated. "Not really."

"If you're okay with it," Ina reached into her coat pocket, revealing her phone. "Can I have your new number? So we can hang out before you leave, like old times."

"Oh." Cecilia stared at the black device like it was a knife. Her face burned, heat spreading to the back of her neck.

"I-it's fine if you don't want to—"

"No!" Cecilia didn't. She did. She was going to die. "I. Just. Youalreadyhaveit."

"Huh?"

"I never changed numbers when I moved to Germany," Cecilia admitted. "So you can just text me normally. If you still have my number."

Ina blinked. "…I do." She strangely didn't seem upset, despite the implications. "I'll text you later then?"

"…Okay."

When Ina finally went away, Cecilia gathered the dishes. She felt Elizabeth's eyes drill the back of her head as she headed towards the sink.

"You haven't been talking to Ina," Elizabeth said. It wasn't a question.

Cecilia turned the faucet on. "No."

Cold water soaked her hands as she took a sponge and scrubbed the crumbs off the plate. "Haven't talked in years, actually."

Nothing but the sounds of running water and the idle chatter from customers filled the room. It didn't affect the thick air surrounding the duo.

"People drift apart naturally all the time," Elizabeth offered. "What matters is you have a chance to rekindle what you had."

Cecilia didn't respond. Her hands scrubbed and scrubbed the porcelain, hands lingering in the sink, until her fingers pruned.

On Cecilia's desk laid a stack of notebooks she left behind. Plopping herself on a rolling chair, Cecilia ran a finger until she found the one she wanted. The one held with the most care, the one in the best condition despite its years, plain and purple.

For some reason, Cecilia still wavered.

"Whatever," she whispered, attempting to convince herself. "No big deal."

Holding her breath, Cecilia flipped to a random page. Drawings of green grass and lilacs, octopuses floating in a vast, blue sky. A little green blob adorning a yellow bow, holding string in hopes of reigning the sea creatures.

Her friends would mistake the green droplet as a sentient acorn, but Cecilia and one other person knew it was meant to be an automaton. Characters Cecilia conjured in her head, back when she thought her gift was in mechanics and not music.

Cecilia's eyes wandered to the bottom of the page.

Cece: 6

Ina: 14

She scoffed, a smile finding its way to her lips. She was so obnoxious in middle school, obsessed with ensuring every competition between the two was recorded.

Ina used to aways surge ahead, with Cecilia close behind. The idea of "almost" irked Cecilia the most. She almost beat Ina in chess, she almost won in air hockey, she almost stomped past Ina's shadow in a race.

But Ina was a little too fast, the shadow was too elusive, and sunlight and sweat blinded Cecilia's vision when she raised her head to learn how far Ina had gone.

People drift apart naturally all the time.

Cecilia frowned. None of it mattered now.

What matters is you have a chance to rekindle what you had.

There was a problem with what Elizabeth said. Their distance wasn't natural, for Cecilia had made sure it came to be.

Cece's mom was gonna kill her.

Wind yanked Cece's hoodie down, the adolescent girl shrieking as nature used this chance to pelt her face with rain.

"Ack!" Wiping the water off her face, Cece hurried down the sidewalk. Her mom would scold her if she caught her running, but she'd also probaby get upset if Cece caught a cold.

She hid underneath an awning, belonging to a restaurant closed for the day. "Finally!"

Puddles soaked her socks, the cotton squishing when Cece wiggled her toes uncomfortably. She looked down, wincing. In one of her hands was a umbrella her mom bought yesterday, now crumpled and turned inside out, resembling a tulip. Uh oh.

"Shit," Cece whispered.

"Hey, kids can't say bad words."

Huffing, Cece crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not a kid! I'm already 10."

Then, Cece froze. Slowly, she swiveled her head to the right.

Also taking shelter under the canopy was Ina, who waved at her.

Cece gasped, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Rival!"

Ina blinked. "My name's Ina."

"I know that! What kind of person doesn't know their rival's name?"

"I guess that's true," Ina agreed. "But why am I your rival? You're not still upset about me getting a perfect score on that quiz, are you?"

"What?" Cece sputtered. "Nuh uh! You think I'd do something so childish?"

"Well, I saw you pout when the teacher announced it to the class."

Caught me with my defenses down. She's good. Cece looked away. "Dunno what you're talking about." A pause. "You studied a little bit more than me. That's all."

"Oh?"

"Math's my weakness."

"Me too!"

Cece went out of her way to hide her pout from Ina.

The rain built up as the conversation died, filling the silence with its annoying banging against the awning.

"It's not gonna stop," Cece said.

Ina nodded.

Narrowing her eyes, Cece leaned into Ina's space. "This is your fault."

For the first time, Ina was caught off-guard. "With…the rain?"

"Mmhmm."

"That's silly," Ina laughed. "Nobody can make it rain."

"You can," Cece used both index fingers to point at Ina this time.

"What makes you say that?"

Cece opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. "Nevermind."

"What do you—" Ina's eyes widened. "Are you blushing?"

Startling, Cece turned her back towards Ina.

"Hey, that's not fair."

"Too bad!" Cece huffed. She considered running into the bad weather again.

She really didn't want to though. She sighed. "We're gonna be here forever."

"Or until our parents pick us up," Ina said.

"Forever," Cece whined.

There was a tap on her wet shoulder. Cece frowned at Ina. "What?"

"Want to play a game while we wait?"

Cece perked up. If she beat Ina, it would prove she was better than her. "You're on."

Cecilia was going to kill herself.

Hair clung to her forehead and cheek, its white hue darkened from the rain.

"Stupid weather," Cecilia muttered. "Stupid weatherman."

When her mother asked to buy a few groceries, Cecilia checked the news before she left. She should've known better and snatched an umbrella before she left.

Groaning, Cecilia tucked her hair behind her ear. She had to improvise to protect the supplies, stuffing the shopping bag under her jacket. Paper bags were fragile yet better for the environment, Cecilia knew that, but she was too busy hating Mother Nature to care at the moment.

Maybe Cecilia should buy her mother a tote bag before she left.

The awning providing her refuge bore faded red stripes, years of sunlight breaking down its dyes.

I should make Gigi get me, Cecilia thought. She still owes me.

Before she could fish her phone out however, the sound of boots stomping against wet pavement reached her ears.

"Oh? It's you, Cece!"

Cecilia wasn't even surprised when she met Ina's eyes, used to things not going her way since she visited.

Ina was more prepared, with rain boots and a simple umbrella. "Why're you out here?"

"Ah, you know." Cecilia shrugged, inclining her head towards the egregiously shaped lump under her coat. "Taking my food baby out."

"What?" Ina asked, confusion mingling with her bubbling laughter. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

Cecilia wanted to say no. She could have said no, she had freedom to sabotage herself. Yet there was no reason to deny a good deed, no reason to deny Ina.

The umbrella was big enough for the two of them, Cecilia insisting it was better if she held it. Height advantage and all that.

"You're not even tall," Ina pouted.

"Taller than you though," Cecilia smirked. "That's good enough for me."

When Ina inched closer, Cecilia reflexively made space.

"You'll get your shoulder wet," Ina teased.

"I'll be fine."

Cecilia led them towards her neighborhood, persistent rain against polyester. She took a peek at Ina when she knew the other wouldn't notice.

Ina's cheeks were rosy from the cold; through her eyelashes, she glanced up at Cece. "Let me hold your things then."

Cecilia didn't argue as Ina took the paper bag and carried it with both hands, more so to have an excuse to stay quiet. She'd say something dumb otherwise.

"You know," Ina said. "When we were little, we had to hide under the canopy back there. Do you remember?"

Humming, Cecilia pretended to think about it. "Not at all. Bet I was annoying though."

"I didn't think so."

Cecilia sputtered a laugh. "Sure you did."

"I mean it!"

"Uh huh," Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "What did you think of me then?"

"That you were silly. Cute." Mischief brightened Ina's eyes. "Mostly silly though."

Scoffing, Cecilia focused her gaze to the ground, minding the puddles.

"You even accused me of summoning the bad weather. Why do you think that is?"

Cecilia's shoe dove straight into a large puddle, dirty water dousing her jeans. She cursed under her breath.

Ina's eyes were an overcast sky—a pretty gray and blue Cecilia once attempted to pinpoint with colored pencils. Combined with the fact Ina was invincible to a kid like Cecilia, who else could command the skies?

"I don't know," Cecilia lied. "Children make things up all the time."

"Yeah, that's true." Ina didn't look satisfied.

Neither spoke as they turned right on Cecilia's street. She hoped that was that, but the way Ina fidgeted in her peripheral, she knew it was merely a lull in conversation.

"You declared me as your rival around that time too," Ina said. "Why did you start calling me that?"

Cecilia halted, forcing Ina to stop walking as well. "Guess."

Ina was too surprised to respond right away. "Because you hate losing?"

A beat of silence, then two. The smile Cecilia gave was thin. It convinced neither of them. "How'd you know?"

"Cece—"

"We're almost there, Ina. I don't want to be here longer than I have to."

Ina flinched. It almost made Cecilia take it back. "A-alright."

When they arrived at Cecilia's porch, she sheathed the umbrella and handed it to Ina, hand outstretched unti the latter returned the grocery bag.

Cecilia took out her housekey, slotting the metal into the lock. "I'll see you around, Ina."

Before she could unlock the entrance, she felt a tug on her jacket. She stilled, but didn't turn around to face Ina.

"I know…" Ina cleared her throat. "I know everything's different now."

Cecilia's grip tightened on the key.

"But still, I'm glad you're here. I really am."

Cecilia didn't move as the grip on her coat loosened, didn't turn as she heard the suffling of the umbrella unraveling, didn't speak as Ina left the porch and headed to her own house.

The front door was slammed shut.

"Goodness!" Cecilia's mother rushed into view. "What's the point of house rules if nobody follows them? No banging!" She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of Cecilia. "Liebchen, what's the matter?"

Ina claimed things were different, but nothing had changed at all.

Cece was the same immature child and Ina was there to placate her no matter what. As if it didn’t matter.

As if nothing Cecilia did mattered.

Two days later, Cecilia received a text.

Ina: I haven't heard you play

well, when you lived here I did but not in years

Cecilia stared at the message, debating whether to answer or not. She had turned off the setting that let the sender know you left them on read.

Ina: Is it okay if I hear your violin before you go?

Her eye twitched before exhaling a heavy sigh.

Cece: when and where

.

.

.

"I cleaned my room, so don't be shy!" Ina beamed, opening the door with a graceful bow.

"You didn't have to do that," Cecilia said. "I don't care about a little mess."

Hell, there were still cardboard boxes she had yet to break down and organize in her apartment.

Ina didn't meet her eyes. "No. No, cleaning was necessary."

Huffing a small laugh, Cecilia stepped inside. She'd only seen Ina's room a few times, the duo more likely to do homework with their friends in the park or hold sleepovers in Cecilia's house.

It was kinda small, but it wouldn't hinder Cecilia's performance. There was an easel and empty canvas in the corner of the room.

"Are you okay with me staring?" Ina asked as Cecilia propped her instrument atop Ina's bed.

"Huh?"

"Like you won't feel uncomfortable, right?"

"Ina," Cecilia deadpanned. "At least a thousand pairs of eyes are on me all the time. It's fine."

Cecilia unclicked the locks, lifting the violin case. Stand up straight. Relax the shoulders. Getting into position, Cecilia settled the violin on her shoulder. Her jaw sat atop the chin rest.

"Am I going to hear your concert pieces?" Ina asked.

That would be best. It was a win-win, Ina would get to hear her play again and Cecilia would get more practice before she flew back to Berlin.

Cecilia glanced at Ina's smile, fighting the urge to frown. She had been rude and dishonest the last time they talked. Ina acted like nothing had transpired. To anyone else, it would be a blessing.

But because it was Cecilia, that stubborn mindset of hers couldn't stand it.

"Yes, but I'll do a warm-up first," Cecilia said. "A Fauré piece."

"What's the song?"

"I'll tell you when I finish."

Sitting the edge of the bed, Ina rested her hands atop her thighs. "Whenever you're ready."

Cecilia counted in her head, waiting for her mark. Closing her eyes, the bow touched the strings and a melancholic melody filled the room.

Usually, the song was performed with a singer, the main star in the arrangement. If not a voice, then a piano. Cecilia was glad to be deprived of both. She didn't want lyrics, she didn't want someone to bridge the gap and help Ina understand what the music meant. What Cecilia meant.

It was merely a way to vent. This was the closest to the truth she could muster before messing it all up.

Ina was silent the entire time. No hums, no simple ahs when an audience member recognized the piece. She was silent after Cecilia finished her piece.

When Cecilia opened her eyes, Ina was staring right at her. She started, her bow hand jerking and making a gaudy screech. "Shit!"

"S-sorry," Ina said.

"No, no it's fine." Cecilia dropped her stance. "I was only surprised."

"It was really pretty. What's it called?"

"…Après un rêve."

Ina tried repeating the words, pronouncing the 's' when it should be silent. It was endearing.

"It means after a dream."

"What's it about?" Ina asked.

"It's up to interpretation," Cecilia answered, back to lying. There was a slight tremor in her hands. The last time she had them was before she performed for the parents back in seventh grade.

"Will you play it again?"

"If I feel like it." She turned to stare out the window, hoping Ina didn’t see the shame washing over her face.

There was a week left before Elizabeth and her friends had to head to the airport.

"You can stay longer," Gigi had grinned. "No need to be shy."

Cecilia shot her a glare. "Very funny. The theater's repairs have been going faster than expected, so that's not an option."

Gigi showed her a thumbs down. "We should do something before we go."

"Like what?" Cecilia snorted. "I told you there's nothing to do here."

"Not!" Gigi brandished a flyer from behind her back. "True at all, Ms. Immergreen."

Sliding it across the kitchen counter, Gigi waggled her eyebrows.

Wrinkles covered the paper from head to toe and Cecilia had to straighten it with both hands to see it properly. "Jesus, Gigi. Did you crumple this into a ball?"

"My bad."

Cecilia rolled her eyes. The leaflet was incredibly simple, stating the town was having a fair. No reason was stated; there weren't any upcoming holidays nor a single mention of a fundraiser written in the print.

"Isn't this really random?" Cecilia asked. "Or a blatant moneygrab…"

"Hey, man." Gigi shrugged. "You said there's nothing to do. This is something!"

Logic was hard to fight against, especially when it came in the form of Cecilia's own words being thrown back at her.

Which led to Cecilia standing alone with a can of orange soda, her ears getting overstimulated from the screaming children and the chimes of festival machinery.

Originally, Cecilia came to the festival with Elizabeth and Gigi, located at the local park. Raora went ahead because she volunteered to paint on the children's faces. When they met up with her though, Raora dragged Elizabeth in the line for a turn. Something about how her face needed to match her whimsy, Cecilia didn't pay too much attention.

However, it was funny seeing Elizabeth crowded around by sparkly children—the oldest appearing nine at most—with one boy peering up to ask how she got so tall.

The duo planned to reunite with them after playing a few carnival games, but that arrangement derailed as soon as they stumbled upon Fauna's concession stand.

So Cecilia wandered off before Gigi got the bright idea of using her as expendable labor again.

Cecilia sipped from her can, then made a face. "Ew."

"Not good?"

Lifting her head, Cecilia saw Ina standing a few feet in front of her. She wore a light coat, holding a half-eaten chocolate banana.

"Not at all, it's too artificial." Cecilia held it out to Ina. "Want some?"

"Um." Ina's nose scrunched up. Cecilia found her lips quirking up. "Maybe next time."

"Suit yourself." Cecilia stuffed in the nearby trashcan, her buddy while she was loitering. "I figured you'd be painting faces like Raora."

"I am, but my shift's not until an hour."

Cecilia hummed. "So you'll be busy soon." How lucky, the child in her whispered in her ear.

"Yep! That's why I'm having a lot of fun beforehand." She fidgeted, her heels clicking against each other. "…Are you free?"

Cecilia laughed, despite the thought of it twisting her stomach. "Okay, but I can't leave the trash alone for too long."

The chuckle Ina gave was quieter than hers, softer.

On the edge of the park was a cluster of wooden tables, the growing trees creating a canopy of leaves and sticks above them. It was too far from festivities to be hogged by families, leaving the two of them alone.

Cecilia sat across from Ina, eyes glued to the table. She dusted off fallen leaves and debris. "So? What do you want to talk about?"

Ina wasn't meeting her gaze, as if scrutinizing the patterns of the chopped and polished wood. "You're leaving soon."

"Yeah." Cecilia's neck tightened, attempting to ease the tension by clearing her throat.

"Do you…" Ina straightened her posture, her face unreadable. "Do you know when you'll be back?"

"Who can say," came out Cecilia's lips, smoother than she expected. "There was a gap in my schedule out of sheer luck. I don't know when I'll be free again."

The lie was blatant, shameless. Knowing her mother, if she bragged about Cecilia's concerts and displayed the posters online, then she must've talked about how hard-working she was. How the summer ensemble was an option; how she could've gotten Christmas holidays off with her good behavior.

Not an olive branch, but a closing door.

Ina was kind, but she was smart—smarter than Cecilia, if they based it off their test scores as children. She gave Cecilia a chance and the latter didn't take it, not really. Everyone had a limit, even In—

"Can I call you then?" Ina asked.

Cecilia flinched. "…What?"

"I asked—"

No.

"—if you're okay with me calling then. O-or texting! Texting might be better, since I always sound tired."

This isn't how things are supposed to go.

Cecilia didn't respond. Could barely think.

Heavy silence was hung over both of them and this wasn't the first time, but it was the first time Ina was affected, hanging her head.

"It's okay, if you don't want to," Ina whispered. "I-I wanted to at least try, before you left."

"…Why are you doing this?"

Ina raised her head, then widened her eyes, as if shocked with what she saw. "Cece?"

"Why do you—" Cecilia's voice cracked, too loud, too strained.

Groaning in frustration, Cecilia slammed her fist atop the table. "WHY do you keep placating me?!"

Ina winced at the thump, but still tried reaching for Cecilia's wrist.

Cecilia recoiled before Ina could touch her, hurried to her feet. She closed her eyes and took a deep, stuttering breath. With her persistent heartbeat drumming in her ears, she buried her face in her hands.

"Cece, I don't understand."

"I act like a bitch around you." Cecilia rubbed at her face harshly, facing away from Ina. "I'm rude, I lie, and you're not affected! I'm just a child being pampered!"

"I never thought of you like that." A hand rested on Cecilia's shoulder.

"Stop!" She slapped the touch away. "Stop being nice to me!" Her eyes stung, vision wavering, and only then did Cecilia realize she'd been crying.

"When I admitted I had the same number," Cecilia started, turning around. "You knew, didn't you? That I avoided you on purpose."

Devastated. That was the only way she could describe Ina's expression. Her hand dropped by her side. "I…I could've tried contacting you. It's not your—"

"That's not what I asked."

Ina closed her eyes, her mouth a thin line. "Yes."

"Have you thought why that was?" Cecilia asked. "Why, one day after we graduated highschool, I just went noncontact?"

"…Yes."

"I wanted you to get mad at me." Cecilia sniffed. She hated that she was the one crying. "I wanted you to argue with me, say I was throwing what we had away."

Years of distance Cecilia created because she was immature and a coward. "You're so nice to everyone. Kind and funny and—" Her heart stuck to her throat. "You treated everyone the same, but I wanted—I want to be different. I want to be the exception."

A crack in Ina's expression, confusion replacing the gloom written all over her face. "W-what?"

Cecilia might hurl. "You asked me before, why I was so insistent on being your rival. It's because you always stood out to me. I wanted to defeat you, to be noticed by you." Nothing but a child who wanted to be the favorite.

She wanted Ina to stand where she was, to one day be overtaken by Cecilia in a race, to shield her eyes as she awed how far ahead Cecilia had gone. She wanted Ina to see that and run desperately, to feel a fraction of how Cecilia felt towards her.

"I-I thought I did. I couldn't beat you, not really, but I—" Cecilia paused, catching her breath. "But then I got accepted to some big music college."

"Cece—"

She took a step back. "And you stayed behind. You didn't chase after me once."

"W-wait, I—"

"Don't follow me."

Then Cecilia was gone, running as fast as she could, wiping at her eyes. A brat who didn't get what she wanted.

Cecilia went home, texted her friends that she felt sick and left early. She silenced her phone, took a shower, and tossed and turned in bed until she passed out.

When she woke up, she checked the damage. Her clock read fifteen past noon. "Shit," she hissed.

Then, she checked her phone. Two messages from Raora, four from Elizabeth—one being a hug emoji.

There were more than twenty missed calls from Gigi. Her phone buzzed soon after, notifying Cecilia that she was trying again.

Sighing, Cecilia answered and pressed the device to her ear. "What do you want?" Cecilia asked, in lieu of a greeting.

"I think I forgot my shit at your house," Gigi said.

Cecilia furrowed her eyebrows. "Seriously? Did you have to call just for that?"

"Whaaaat? It's past noon, not like you were sleeping."

Cecilia didn't respond to that.

"Right?"

"Can't you wait until we see each other?" Cecilia asked. "I can return it then."

"Nuh uh, I need it like right now." A pause. "Also, I'm already at your door."

"Ugh!" Cecilia threw off her blankets, threw open her door and marched downstairs. She slammed open the front door too. "What is wrong with yo—"

Ina stood outside, slightly leaning back.

Cecilia thought about closing the door without speaking another word. "You're not Gigi."

"Nope!" came Gigi's cheery voice. She stepped into view, phone still in her hand. "I ran into her on the way here and we decided to go together!"

"…I am going to kill you."

"Oh, wait a minute!" Gigi gasped. "I just realized, I actually left my shit at Liz's place. I guess I should go."

"You're so fucking dead."

Gigi laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

She still shrieked when Cecilia lunged at her, barely dodging as she ran off laughing.

I'm going to strangle her.

"Um."

Cecilia winced, glancing at Ina's meek expression.

"I told her to do this," Ina admitted. "You can get mad at me, not her."

"…I'll think about it," Cecilia muttered. They both knew that was a lie.

Ina managed a smile.

Cecilia led Ina to her room, softly closing the door behind her. She had a feeling she wasn't here to hang out.

"…Your pajamas are cute," Ina commented.

"Ina, I already want to die." She did not want to have this conversation right now. Well she didn't want to talk about it at all, but especially right now. Her eyes were puffy. She had tousled hair and sported green gingham. She was a picnic table about to be rejected.

"Sorry!" Ina held up her hands in surrender. "I wasn't making fun of you, I-I was only saying what I was thinking."

"I know," Cecilia sighed, rubbing the side of her face. "Well? Go on."

She watched Ina's hand fidget at her sides, the way she turned to look around the room.

Ina approached her desk. "You kept our notebook?"

Cecilia's face began to burn. "It felt weird to throw it out."

She merely hummed at that. Cecilia couldn't see what Ina was doing from this angle, but heard the sound of flipping paper.

"Did you mean what you said?" Ina asked.

Cecilia scoffed. "Hell of a thing to lie about."

"Uh huh." Ina's face was hidden, but Cecilia still knew what face she was making.

Sighing, Cecilia hit her head against the door frame. "Yes, it's true. I'm an asshole… and I like you."

"And you thought I didn't care about you as much," Ina added. "You said you weren't special to me.

"…Seems you have a good memory," Cecilia tried joking, but it fell flat.

She heard the notebook flip shut. "I can get upset," Ina said. "But I don't like getting mad."

Cecilia nodded, then remembered Ina couldn't see her. "Right."

"I wasn't upset, you know? When I realized that maybe you were avoiding me."

"But why? That makes no sense."

"…I think I was just too happy that you were here in the first place," Ina admitted. "And I figured, why be upset? I could focus on spending time with you again."

They were so, so different from each other. Cecilia felt her throat begin to tighten and was glad Ina couldn't see. "Oh."

"Bumping into you was a coincidence," Ina said suddenly. "But I went to the café that day."

A record scratch resounded in Cecilia's mind. "Huh?"

"Fauna told me you were there. I curled my hair and hoped you would notice." She jerked her head to meet Cecilia's eyes.

Flinching, Cecilia hurried to wipe her eyes. "R-really?"

"Really." Ina took a step forward. Cecilia's heart lurched. "I was also happy I caught you in the rain, even though you looked annoyed."

"Me being annoyed isn't exactly rare," Cecilia murmured.

Ina laughed, eyes crinkling, and Cecilia found herself smiling.

"…And you looked so sad, after you performed that one song." Another step. "I wanted to hug you, but didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

She paused then, hesitation crossing her face. However, it's washed away as Ina took another step, reaching forward.

Cecilia flinched when their fingers brushed, but did nothing—her arms as weak as jelly—as Ina held her hand.

"Of course you mean a lot to me," Ina confessed. "There was a part of me that wondered if I cared about you more than you cared about me."

"Ina—" Cecilia shut her mouth when Ina shook her head.

"And when you stopped contacting me—" She leaned forward until they pressed against each other, until her forehead knocked against Cecilia's collarbone. "I assumed you were too busy. I half-expected you to call me suddenly, insist we have a contest online somehow. Play a game."

From the proximity, Ina must've heard the way Cecilia's heart threatened to shoot out of her chest. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

She felt Ina shake her head, her nose resting against Cecilia's shoulder. "It was a misunderstanding. If you're going to blame yourself, blame me too."

Cecilia's laugh was trembling and bright. "You know I won't do that." She listened to the sound of Ina's breathing,

"…Can I hug you?" Ina asked. "I've been holding back all this time."

Instead of answering, Cecilia wrapped her hands around Ina's back and squeezed. She pressed her lips against Ina's hair. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I like you."

"It's okay." Hands clutched to Cecilia's shirt. "I like you too. I liked you for the longest time."

"…I liked you first."

Ina's laugh shot out of her throat, lightly hitting Cecilia's shoulder. She leaned back, surprise brightening overcast eyes. "Are you really doing this now?"

"It's true though!" Cecilia insisted. "That means I win."

"But they say whoever confesses first loses," Ina challenged. "You confessed at the fair."

"Oh, please." Cecilia rolled her eyes. "That was more of a vent."

"You still said the words!" Ina pouted.

"Cute," Cecilia said, giggles bubbling in her throat. "Fine. I'll be the bigger person and say you won this time."

Ina didn't take the bait, her smile wide. "Why, thank you."

For some reason, Cecilia was leaving with more luggage than she came with.

She walked downstairs with her violin case and two stuffed luggages—one strapped to her back and one carried with her free hand.

Her mother shook her head in disapproval. "Your apartment's tiny. How are you going to make it fit?"

"I'll find a way." And by that, Cecilia was going to dump all her extra stuff at Gigi's place. Her stuff will get mailed eventually. Ideally. Hopefully.

Ina swiveled on the kitchen chair, laughing at the sight. "I'm surprised you can even walk."

"Don't underestimate your rival, Ina," Cecilia huffed.

A honk echoed from outside, the girl wincing. "Fuck, the Uber's here."

"Hey!" her mother chided. "No cussing in the house."

"Sorry," Cecilia drawled.

"I'll open the door for you," Ina said.

Cecilia's mother shot Cecilia a knowing look, smiling behind a steaming mug of tea.

"Do you have everything?" Ina asked by the door.

Cecilia ran a mental check through her head. "I sure hope so."

"Well, I'm sure you can just buy another one. Unless it's your passport."

"Unless it's my passport," Cecilia agreed. "I'll text you when I arrive in Berlin, alright?"

Ina's eyes squinted. "Will you now?"

"H-hey, I won't do all that again," Cecilia said.

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking to the side. "Uh huh."

"Don't be like that, I promise!" Cecilia whined. "I'll talk to you everyday. I'll even make sure it's a good hour for you."

Relaxing her stance, Ina reached forward to fix the collar of Cecilia's shirt. "I'm only kidding. I know you will."

Cecilia's smile was goo. She was grateful the front door was closed.

Suddenly, Ina stood on her tiptoes.

A squeak left Cecilia's lips, the girl squeezing her eyes shut. Lips pressed against her cheek.

"I—" Cecilia blinked rapidly. "Uh—"

"When you come back," Ina whispered. "I'll give you a proper kiss." Her ears were red.

Cecilia knew she was worse off. "O-okay."

Hopping into the Uber, Cecilia shoved Gigi to make room, squishing her and Raora to the side. She ignored their immediate complaints. As the car drove away, Cecilia thought about how everything and nothing changed.