Archive of Our Own

The first time Nerissa realized the multiverse was real, it wasn’t because a portal tore open the sky or because the laws of physics bent in front of her eyes.

It was because Elizabeth came home with rain in her hair and a look on her face like she’d seen her own ghost and then, after a long moment of watching Nerissa watch her, she said, very carefully, as if testing each word for sharp edges, “I met me again.”

Nerissa blinked. “Again?”

Elizabeth set her bag down by the door with a deliberate gentleness and took her boots off without looking at them. When she finally met Nerissa’s gaze, there was that familiar steadiness there, the quiet, stubborn warmth Nerissa had fallen into like a hearth and never crawled back out of.

But behind it, there was a faint, faraway brightness. Like starlight. Like distance.

“I told you before,” Elizabeth said. “I told you it was… possible. I just didn’t–” She exhaled, and her shoulders eased, as if she’d been carrying tension between her shoulder blades for too long. “I didn’t expect it to feel like meeting a cousin and looking into a mirror at the same time.”

Nerissa crossed the living room in three steps. She put her hands on Elizabeth’s arms, just above the elbows. Elizabeth’s skin was cool from the outside air. Her eyes were the same shade they always were when she looked at Nerissa: focused, softened, a little disbelieving in her own luck.

“You’re here,” Nerissa said, just a truth she needed to say out loud.

“I’m here.” Elizabeth’s mouth twitched at the corner, a small smile tugged out of her by force. “I always come back.”

Nerissa kissed her then, quick, fierce, and Elizabeth kissed back with that steady patience that always made Nerissa feel simultaneously safe and slightly feral.

After, with their foreheads pressed together, Nerissa asked, “How many… yous are there?”

Elizabeth made a thoughtful sound. “If the theory holds, then… endless.”

Nerissa laughed. The only alternative was screaming. “Endless. Great. So there are infinite Elizabeths walking around out there.”

“Yes.”

“And infinite Nerissas,” she said.

Of course her brain didn’t stop at only one unsettling idea.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes.”

Nerissa stared at her, trying to picture it. Infinite versions of herself making infinite choices, loving infinite people, hurting and healing and laughing in infinite patterns. It made her chest feel too small.

Then Elizabeth said, casually, as though mentioning the weather, “There are versions of me who aren’t women.”

Nerissa froze, her hands still on Elizabeth’s arms. This wasn’t a thought experiment anymore; it was Elizabeth’s life, split and braided and infinite.

Elizabeth’s gaze stayed steady, calm, as if she expected this to be the part that made Nerissa short-circuit.

“There are versions of me who are men,” Elizabeth continued. “Versions who are nonbinary. Versions who are… in-between. There are versions who use different names. Some are only slightly different. Some are–” She paused, searching. “Life took them down different roads long enough that they became their own person.”

Nerissa’s heart did something strange. Not wrong. Not bad. Just… strange. Just the vertigo of imagining Elizabeth as an endless set of selves that all carried the same spark. Gender didn’t change the fact that it was still Elizabeth, refracted through different lives.

“Okay,” Nerissa said.

Elizabeth’s shoulders eased the tiniest bit.

“Okay,” she echoed, and there was gratitude in it. Something like relief.

Nerissa swallowed. “Have you met any of those versions yet?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “Yes. And no.” A beat. “Not like this.”

Nerissa stared at her girlfriend. Her Liz, her Elizabeth, the one whose laugh always cracked the tension in Nerissa’s chest, the one who made her tea the exact way she liked even though she didn’t enjoy the taste herself, the one who touched her like she was precious and powerful both.

“And they’re all… you,” Nerissa whispered.

Elizabeth’s expression softened. “They’re all me,” she agreed. “And not me. It’s… complicated.”

Nerissa exhaled, slow.

“Complicated is kind of our thing,” she said, and Elizabeth laughed, genuinely, and the sound made Nerissa feel like she’d come home too.

It should have ended there: an interesting, unsettling, intimate conversation filed away as one more strange truth of being in love with someone who contained impossible things.

Of course it didn’t end there.

Because the multiverse had never asked Nerissa’s permission to be real, and it didn’t start now.

It happened on a day that looked completely ordinary.

A grey afternoon. The kind of slow drizzle that made the world feel like it had been smudged at the edges. Nerissa had music blaring from the speakers connected to her phone – something loud and dramatic – and she wandered the living room with a dust cloth in one hand, straightening the throw blanket, collecting empty mugs, when Elizabeth stepped into the room with the quiet focus she got when she was trying not to look like she was about to do something reckless.

Nerissa already knew. She always knew. Love had trained her senses into a kind of sixth one: the way Elizabeth’s voice shifted when she was bracing herself, the way her hands went still.

“I need to check something,” Elizabeth said.

Nerissa paused mid-wipe, the cloth hovering over the table. “Check what?”

Elizabeth’s eyes flicked briefly toward the window, as if she could see the shape of somewhere else reflected in the rain. “A version of me sent a message. It’s… a signal. I felt it.”

Nerissa’s mouth went dry. “Your Bloodflame Beacon.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly, like she appreciated the effort even if it didn’t quite land. “Something like that.”

Nerissa walked up to her. She touched the front of Elizabeth’s shirt, palm flat over her sternum, feeling the steady beat beneath, the blue fire licking at her skin. It was warm but it never hurt. “Are you going to be gone long?”

Elizabeth’s hand covered hers. “No. I don’t think so.”

“I don’t like ‘think so,’” Nerissa said, and her voice betrayed her, softening at the edges.

Elizabeth’s gaze gentled. “I’ll be careful.”

Nerissa lifted her chin. “You always say that. And you always mean it. And I still worry.”

“I know.” Elizabeth’s thumb stroked over Nerissa’s knuckles. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Nerissa said back, immediate as breath.

Elizabeth leaned in and kissed her, slow, grounding. Then she stepped back. Her expression shifted, focused, as if she was listening for something Nerissa couldn’t hear.

“I’ll be back,” Elizabeth said one more time, and then she took a half step to the side and – wasn’t.

There was no flash. No dramatic light. No tearing sound.

One moment she was there, the next the space beside Nerissa was empty, the air oddly still where Elizabeth’s body heat had been.

Nerissa stood in her own living room with a hand still raised, fingers slightly curled, as if she might catch an echo if she moved fast enough.

She lowered her hand slowly.

Then she turned the music up a notch and went back to tidying like she could scrub the unease out of the air. She gathered the mug Elizabeth had left behind, wiped down the counter, straightened the blanket again even though it was already straight.

An hour later, the air changed.

Nerissa looked up sharply, because something in her bones recognized the shift the way animals felt pressure changes before storms.

She turned toward the hallway.

There was someone there.

The shape was familiar at first glance: tall, broad-shouldered, posture straight but not rigid. The way they moved, quiet, purposeful, hit Nerissa’s memory like a match striking.

And then the details landed and her brain stumbled.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same – something in the structure of the face that was unmistakably Elizabeth.

But the rest–

The jaw was a touch sharper. The hair was shorter, darker at the roots, styled in a way Elizabeth never bothered with. The sweater was different, fit tighter, the line of the shoulders emphasized. The voice, when he spoke, was lower.

“Hello,” he said.

Nerissa’s body reacted before her mind caught up. Her heart kicked hard. Her stomach did a small, alarming flip.

She stared at him, trying to piece things together.

He lifted both hands slightly, palms visible, an unmistakably calming gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nerissa’s mouth opened.

Closed.

She tried again. “You’re–”

“Not your Elizabeth,” he finished gently. “Yes.”

He smiled, and it was Elizabeth’s smile, almost. Familiar shape, different weight. A smile that looked like it had practiced being charming on purpose.

Nerissa felt flustered in a way she hadn’t expected, which was offensive. She was not easily flustered. She was Nerissa Ravencroft. Demon of Sound. She did the flustering.

And yet.

Her brain produced a ridiculous, unwelcome thought: Oh. He’s handsome.

Immediately followed by: That is my girlfriend’s face, what is wrong with me.

She swallowed. “Where’s Liz?”

His expression softened. “She’s safe. She reached out to me. She asked me to check on you.”

Nerissa narrowed her eyes. “Check on me?”

He stepped into the light of the living room. Close enough now that Nerissa could see the tiny differences: the way his stubble shadowed his jaw, well groomed; the way his hands were slightly larger, standing taller; the way his gaze held a slightly different kind of confidence: still steady, but more openly aware of how it landed.

“Sometimes,” he said carefully, “the jump back takes longer than intended. She didn’t want you waiting without any reassurance. She asked me to come through and tell you she’s on her way.”

Nerissa’s lungs loosened. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding slipped out.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Nerissa’s fingers flexed. She tried to reorient herself. “So you’re… a version of her.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m–” He paused, as if choosing. “In my world, I go by Elias. It was easier than being another Elizabeth in a family that already had three.”

Nerissa’s eyebrows shot up. “Three Elizabeths?”

Elias’s mouth curved. “It’s a long story.”

Nerissa snorted, despite herself. “Yeah. That tracks.”

He glanced around the room. His gaze lingered on the shelf Nerissa had been reorganizing. On the framed photo of Nerissa and Elizabeth laughing in a way that looked unguarded. On the blanket tossed over the arm of the couch. On Little Darling snoozing on his tower, unperturbed by the new presence. Ordinary life made sacred by repetition.

“She lives here,” Elias said softly, almost to himself.

Nerissa’s chest warmed. “Yeah,” she said. “She does.”

Elias looked back at her. His eyes were… so familiar. It was like being stared at by someone wearing Elizabeth’s gaze as a mask. Except it was real.

Just not hers.

Nerissa shifted her weight, suddenly aware of her own body in an uncomfortable way. She was in sweatpants. Her hair was a mess. She had been mindlessly plucking at the strings of her lyre for so long her fingers felt numb.

And now this man with her girlfriend’s bones was standing in her living room looking at her like he understood her in a way only Elizabeth ever did.

It was unfair.

“You said she asked you to check on me,” Nerissa said. “Does she… do that often? Ask other versions to look in?”

Elias’s expression grew thoughtful. “Not often,” he admitted. “She doesn’t like to involve you in… chaos.”

Nerissa huffed. “Too late.”

Elias’s smile warmed, and Nerissa’s stomach betrayed her again.

He tilted his head slightly. “You love her.”

Nerissa blinked. “Yes.”

Just the truth. It lived in her like a second heartbeat.

Elias nodded once, like he’d expected that answer, but hoped for it anyway. “Good.”

Nerissa stared. “Good?”

“I’ve met versions of her who don’t have someone like you,” he said quietly. “It makes… a difference. Seeing her with someone who makes her feel like she’s not alone in the universe.”

Nerissa’s throat tightened. “She’s not alone,” she said, fierce, and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “She’s also not allowed to die in a portal accident, so if you could pass that message along, that would be great.”

Elias laughed, low, surprised, and the sound did something stupid to Nerissa’s nerves.

“I’ll tell her,” he promised.

Nerissa’s cheeks felt warm. She was going to set herself on fire out of sheer embarrassment.

She forced herself to focus, tried to make small talk. Tried her very best to hide the fact she could hear her synapses form new connections in real time. “So. Elias. You’re here to reassure me and then go back.”

“Yes,” he said.

Nerissa nodded, crisp. “Great. Cool. That’s normal.”

Elias’s expression turned amused. “Is it?”

“No,” Nerissa admitted. “Not even a little.”

He took a step closer, not invasive, just enough to make the conversation feel more intimate without cornering her. “Can I ask you something?”

Nerissa’s pulse flickered. “Sure.”

Elias held her gaze steadily. “Does it bother you?”

Nerissa frowned. “Does what bother me?”

“That I look like her,” he said. “That I’m… adjacent to her. That I walked into your home wearing a shape your heart recognizes.”

Nerissa’s breath caught. She hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to the exact fear she’d been carefully not looking at.

She considered lying. She could do it. She could keep things safe.

But Elizabeth loved honesty. And Nerissa loved Elizabeth.

“It’s disorienting,” she said. “It’s… weird. In my brain. Because I see you and part of me goes, Liz, and then it’s like my brain slaps itself.”

Elias nodded, slow. “Yeah.”

“And,” Nerissa continued, hating herself for how carefully she had to speak, “you’re not her. You’re not my Liz. So I don’t want to–” She gestured helplessly. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Elias chuckled again. “Nerissa.”

Hearing her name in Elizabeth’s cadence, but in that voice, made her hands drop.

“Yes?”

Elias’s expression shifted, the easy charm fading into something quieter and more careful. He looked at Nerissa like he realized she was standing on the edge of a thought she hadn’t let herself have yet.

“Before you get in your head about it,” he said quietly, “the rules can be… fluid.” He spoke carefully, as if he didn’t want to step on landmines. “Between versions. Between… us.”

Nerissa’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t even let herself think about this. “I haven’t–” She stopped. “I haven’t talked to Liz about any of this.”

“I figured,” Elias said, gentle. “Just… know that you’re loved. That you trust each other. That none of us are interested in hurting you.”

Nerissa’s eyes stung unexpectedly. It was ridiculous to want to cry because a stranger, sort of, had told her she was safe. But it hit something tender.

Elias watched her closely. “And I won’t do anything without your consent,” he added, plainly. “Not even a step closer than you want.”

Nerissa breathed out.

“Okay,” she said again, softer this time.

Elias nodded. His gaze flickered briefly to Nerissa’s mouth, then back to her eyes. It was subtle. It was nothing.

It still made Nerissa’s brain short-circuit.

She set her jaw. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

Elias’s eyebrows rose. “Doing what?”

“The… looking,” Nerissa said, flustered, and hated that she sounded almost breathless.

Elias’s smile returned, slow and warm. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Nerissa stared at him. “You’re shameless.”

He shrugged, and it was such an Elizabeth gesture that Nerissa almost laughed. “In my world, I learned early that if you have a voice like this, you might as well use it.”

Nerissa made a noise of offended laughter. “Oh my god.”

Elias’s eyes brightened. “She does that too.”

Nerissa’s laughter softened into something fond despite herself.

“Yeah,” she said, helplessly. “She does.”

Silence settled between them, not awkward but heavy with awareness.

Nerissa had never thought about kissing a man with Elizabeth’s eyes.

She had never thought about wanting to.

But the multiverse didn’t care what she had planned.

Elias watched her, patient. He didn’t push. He didn’t crowd.

And somehow that made it worse.

Nerissa licked her lips, a nervous habit she immediately regretted because Elias’s gaze followed the motion with blatant interest.

“Okay,” Nerissa said, decisively, because if she didn’t speak she might explode. “Hypothetically.”

Elias’s expression turned attentive. “Hypothetically.”

“If,” Nerissa said, “I wanted to know what it’s like–”

Elias didn’t move. He didn’t interrupt.

Nerissa inhaled. “To kiss you. Just a kiss. To understand the difference. To–” She spread her hands, exasperated at herself. “To satisfy my curiosity.”

Elias’s eyes softened, and for a second he looked less like someone charming and more like someone who could keep her heart safe.

“That wouldn’t replace her,” he said.

Nerissa’s voice came out smaller than she wanted. “It feels like it might, in my head.”

Elias shook his head, slow. “You can taste a new flavor without forgetting your favorite,” he said, and then he paused, and his mouth quirked. “That metaphor sounded less weird in my mind.”

Nerissa laughed, breathy. “It’s still weird.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “But not bad.”

Nerissa’s pulse thudded in her ears. “And you’re okay with it.”

Elias’s gaze held hers steadily. “If you want it,” he said. “If it won’t hurt you after.”

Nerissa’s throat tightened. “It might make me feel guilty.”

Elias nodded once, as if accepting that. “Then we don’t.”

Nerissa stared at him. That easy willingness to step back, so like Elizabeth it made Nerissa’s chest ache.

“I hate that you’re so considerate,” Nerissa muttered.

Elias’s smile turned crooked. “I’m still her, remember.”

Nerissa swallowed.

She thought about Elizabeth – her Liz – somewhere out there between worlds, moving through impossible corridors with that same steady determination. She thought about the way Elizabeth had looked at her when she’d said there were versions of her who weren’t women. The quiet vulnerability in admitting it.

Nerissa knew what she wanted in the end: Elizabeth home, safe, kissed senseless on their couch.

But this – this was something else. A curiosity.

Nerissa took a small step closer.

Elias’s breath changed. He still didn’t move.

Nerissa lifted her hand slowly, giving him every chance to object, and touched his jaw.

Stubble scratched her palm. Different from Elizabeth’s smooth skin. The same bone beneath, the same warmth.

Elias’s eyes went half-lidded for a second, like the touch landed somewhere deep.

Nerissa’s voice wobbled, annoyingly. “Okay,” she whispered. “Just… a kiss. And if I panic, you stop.”

Elias nodded. “Immediately.”

Nerissa swallowed. “And you don’t tell her in a way that makes her feel weird.”

Elias’s smile softened. “I won’t weaponize it,” he promised. “And I won’t hide it if she asks.”

Nerissa exhaled. That was fair. That was honest.

She stepped closer until she could feel his heat, the flame on his chest flickering, betraying him.

Elias leaned down just slightly, meeting her halfway, not taking. Waiting.

Nerissa rose onto her toes and kissed him.

For a split second her brain screamed, This is Elizabeth, and her body surged forward with automatic familiarity–

And then the differences landed.

His mouth was firmer. The angle was different. There was a subtle pressure there, a controlled confidence in the way he met her, like he knew exactly how to hold a kiss without rushing it.

Nerissa’s breath caught, and Elias responded by easing back, instantly, as promised, just enough to let her choose.

Nerissa didn’t pull away.

She kissed him again, slower this time, letting herself actually feel it rather than fight her own thoughts.

Stubble brushed her upper lip. His hand came up, hovering near her waist, not touching until Nerissa made a small, impatient sound and tugged his sweater forward.

Elias’s hand settled at her side, warm through fabric, steady. It wasn’t possessive. It felt like an anchor.

The kiss deepened gently, not demanding. Elias’s mouth moved with a practiced ease that Elizabeth didn’t have. Not because Elizabeth wasn’t good at kissing, but because Elizabeth kissed like she was offering something sacred. Elias kissed like he enjoyed the artistry of it.

Nerissa’s stomach flipped again, and this time she didn’t hate it.

She broke the kiss suddenly, panting, forehead dropping to his chest for a second.

Elias froze, hands still, giving her space. “Are you okay?”

Nerissa pressed her face against his sweater and let out a hysterical laugh. “That was… insane.”

Elias’s chest vibrated with a laugh of his own. “Good insane or bad insane?”

Nerissa lifted her head and glared at him, cheeks burning. “Don’t make me categorize it.”

Elias’s eyes sparkled. “So… good.”

Nerissa groaned. “Yes,” she admitted. “It was good. It was different. It was–”

She stopped, words tangling.

Elias’s gaze softened again, the teasing fading. “It wasn’t her,” he said quietly.

Nerissa swallowed hard. “No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

And the fact that she could say that, could feel the difference so clearly, made something in her settle.

Because she loved Elizabeth not as a concept, not as a face, not as a template the universe reused.

She loved her Liz. The specific constellation of choices and softness and stubbornness that made Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame her person.

Nerissa stepped back, hands dropping. She took a long breath.

Elias watched her with careful attention. “Do you regret it?”

Nerissa considered, honestly.

The guilt was there, a small sharp thing, but it didn’t feel like betrayal so much as… the leftover adrenaline after doing something new, her body struggling to catch up with her head.

“No,” she said finally. “I don’t regret it.”

Elias nodded, as if he’d been prepared to accept either answer. “Okay.”

Nerissa stared at him. “You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you.”

Elias’s grin returned. “I will be so respectful,” he said, solemn as a priest.

Nerissa rolled her eyes. “Liar.”

Elias laughed.

And then, as if summoned by the sound, the air shifted again.

Nerissa’s head snapped up.

Elias’s expression changed, alert. “She’s coming back.”

Nerissa’s heart kicked. “Now?”

Elias nodded.

Nerissa’s palms went sweaty. She suddenly felt like she’d been caught doing something scandalous in her own house, her hand trapped in the cookie jar. Even though she had consented, even though it had been a single kiss, even though she knew Elias had said the rules were fluid.

Still.

Love made you irrational sometimes.

The space near the hallway blurred, barely visible, like heat shimmering, and then Elizabeth was there, stepping through, breathing a little harder than normal, hair slightly disheveled, eyes bright with that starlight distance.

She looked from Nerissa to Elias and back again.

For a beat, no one spoke.

Then Elizabeth’s shoulders dropped in visible relief as her gaze landed on Nerissa. She crossed the room in quick steps and cupped Nerissa’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, as if checking for any visible bruises.

“You okay?” Elizabeth asked, voice low.

Nerissa’s eyes stung. “I’m okay,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’m fine.” Then she leaned in and kissed Nerissa, slow, grounding, familiar in a way that made Nerissa’s whole body unclench.

Nerissa melted into it, hands fisting in Elizabeth’s shirt. This was her. This was home. This was the shape of love she knew by heart.

When they broke apart, Elizabeth rested her forehead against Nerissa’s.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It took longer than I meant.”

Nerissa exhaled. “I survived. Barely.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched. “I knew you would.”

Behind them, Elias cleared his throat politely.

Elizabeth lifted her head and looked over Nerissa’s shoulder. Her expression changed, subtly, as it landed on him. “Thank you.”

Elias shrugged. “She didn’t burn the place down trying to look for you,” he said. “I consider that a success.”

Nerissa made a rude sound. “Excuse you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flickered between them, sharp and perceptive. Nerissa felt her cheeks go hot again. Elizabeth noticed everything, even when she pretended not to.

Her gaze settled on Nerissa’s mouth for half a second, then lifted back to her eyes. “Did anything happen that I need to know about?”

The question was gentle. Not accusing. Not possessive.

Nerissa’s chest tightened.

She licked her lips nervously and said, “We kissed.”

Elias just watched, calm.

Elizabeth blinked once.

Then, slowly, she smiled. Warm and surprisingly serene.

“Okay,” Elizabeth said.

Nerissa stared at her. “Okay?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Okay.”

She glanced briefly at Elias, and there was something complicated in the look – recognition, understanding, a shared private language of being the same person in different forms.

Then Elizabeth looked back at Nerissa. “Do you feel okay about it?”

Nerissa swallowed. “I feel… a little guilty,” she admitted. “And also a little–” She waved a hand helplessly. “Curious. And also completely in love with you, which is inconvenient because now my brain won’t stop comparing the kiss.”

Elias choked on a laugh and turned it into a cough.

Elizabeth’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Inconvenient,” she echoed.

Nerissa groaned. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing,” Elizabeth said, and her voice was gentle. “I’m… glad you told me. And I’m glad you’re safe.”

Nerissa’s throat tightened. “You’re not mad.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “If anything, I’m relieved you got to experience it on your terms, with consent, and not as some confusing accident.”

Nerissa stared at her like she was seeing her again for the first time. “How are you so… you about this.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened. “Because I know you,” she said. “And because I trust you.”

Nerissa’s eyes stung again, and she hated how emotional she was being over a kiss. But love made your insides tender.

Elizabeth kissed her once more, brief, firm, sealing. “I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nerissa leaned into her, breathing her in. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m keeping you.”

Elizabeth made a soft sound of amusement. “I like that.”

Elias shifted, and the air around him seemed to tilt subtly, as if his presence was already preparing to slip back into wherever he belonged.

“I should go,” he said.

Elizabeth looked at him. “Safe travels.”

Elias’s gaze flickered to Nerissa. “You take care of her,” he said, half-serious.

Nerissa snorted. “I do.”

Elias smiled. “I can tell.”

Nerissa’s cheeks warmed again, but this time it felt less like panic and more like the strange, dizzy warmth of being seen.

Elias stepped back. The edges of him shimmered faintly, like the world was deciding he didn’t belong in this version of it.

Before he vanished, he said, lightly, “For the record, you have good taste.”

Nerissa reached down and threw a pillow at him on instinct.

It passed through empty air.

And Elias was gone.

Silence settled around them.

Nerissa stood in the living room with Elizabeth’s arms around her waist and her own heart still doing acrobatics.

Elizabeth rested her chin on Nerissa’s shoulder.

“So,” she murmured, voice amused against Nerissa’s ear, “male me was charming.”

Nerissa groaned and leaned back into her. “Don’t start.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “I’m not starting anything here. I’m curious.”

Nerissa turned in her arms, facing her fully. “You’re really okay?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened, all humor fading into something serious and bright. She cupped Nerissa’s face again, thumbs stroking gently.

“I’m okay,” she said. “And I want to hear what you felt. Not because I’m keeping score.” Her mouth twitched. “But because I love you. And because all these versions of me… they’re still me enough that I want to understand what you experienced.”

Nerissa swallowed. “It was different,” she admitted. “It was… not you. But it was still–” She exhaled. “It was still your eyes. Your mouth. Your… shape. And that messed with me, just a little.”

Elizabeth nodded, absorbing it.

“And,” Nerissa added, voice quieter, “it made me realize something.”

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened gently. “What?”

Nerissa held her eyes. “That it’s not the face I’m in love with,” she said. “Not the template. Not the universe’s favorite design.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly.

“It’s you,” Nerissa said, fierce and trembling at the same time. “The way you look at me. The way you come home. The way you make tea. The way you say my name. The way you try so hard to be good. I kissed him and it was… nice. And then you came back and I felt like my body remembered where it belonged.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shone. She leaned in and kissed Nerissa again, deep and unhurried, like she was answering every word with her mouth instead of her voice.

When they finally broke apart, Elizabeth rested her forehead against Nerissa’s.

“I’m glad,” Elizabeth whispered. “And I’m sorry you had to learn it that way.”

Nerissa huffed a laugh. “I’m not sorry,” she admitted, and then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, “But also, your male version is ridiculously attractive and it’s unfair.”

Elizabeth’s laugh was warm, familiar, entirely hers. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, and her eyes gleamed with playful menace. “Maybe I’ll ask one of my nonbinary selves to stop by next time and really ruin your ability to function.”

Nerissa’s eyes widened. “Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth kissed her again, quick and sweet. “I’m joking.”

Nerissa narrowed her eyes. “You are absolutely not joking.”

Elizabeth’s smile turned innocent in a way that never fooled anyone. “Maybe a little.”

Nerissa groaned and shoved her gently toward the couch. “Come here. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere for the rest of the day. No portals. No multiverse errands. No Justice emergencies. Nothing.”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be pushed, all compliant warmth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nerissa stared at her, then burst out laughing, the tension finally cracking into something light.

Elizabeth watched her laugh like it was the best thing in the universe.

And maybe it just was.

Nerissa climbed into Elizabeth’s lap without thinking, arms around her shoulders. Elizabeth held her easily, hands settling at her waist with that steady surety Nerissa trusted more than gravity.

Nerissa pressed her forehead to Elizabeth’s and whispered, “Infinite yous. And I still picked you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes softened, fierce and tender all at once. “I would pick you in every universe,” she murmured.

Nerissa’s chest tightened. “Good.”

Elizabeth kissed her again, slow, anchoring, and Nerissa knew exactly where she belonged.

The rain kept ticking at the windows, softer now.

Nerissa stayed curled in Elizabeth’s lap until her breathing evened out again. Elizabeth’s hands rested at her waist, thumbs moving in slow, absent circles that made Nerissa feel held together. The multiverse could be infinite; Elizabeth’s touch still made one small room feel like the whole world.

A long minute passed before Nerissa shifted, just enough to look up.

Elizabeth looked back, calm and warm, the faintest trace of that starlight still in her eyes like an afterimage. She brushed a loose strand of hair away from Nerissa’s face with the back of her fingers, a gesture so familiar that it made Nerissa’s chest ache with relief all over again.

“You’re staring,” Elizabeth murmured.

“I’m thinking,” Nerissa shot back, but there was no real bite in it.

“That sounds dangerous.”

A little scoff left Nerissa before she could stop it. “You’re one to talk, Miss Multiverse.”

For a second Elizabeth only smiled. Then her expression shifted; subtle, thoughtful, like she turned something over in her mind and decided it was better said aloud.

“There’s something I should tell you,” Elizabeth said.

Nerissa’s stomach tightened on instinct. “That sentence always ruins my day.”

“It’s not bad,” Elizabeth said, eyes crinkling.

“That’s what people say right before they tell you something that makes you want to kill yourself.”Elizabeth laughed softly, then sobered, holding Nerissa’s gaze with that steady, honest focus that made it impossible to hide behind sarcasm.

“When I first realized what was possible,” Elizabeth said, “I… tested it.”

Nerissa blinked. “Tested it how?”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched, like she tried to look casual and failed. “I met another me,” she said. “A long time ago. Not Elias. Someone else.”

Nerissa’s heart did a small, stupid leap.

“And I kissed her,” Elizabeth added, carefully.

Nerissa froze so hard she felt the muscles tense in her shoulders.

“Just to see what it would be like,” Elizabeth said, much too composed. “It wasn’t… emotional in the way you’re thinking. It was curiosity. It was… science.”

“Science,” Nerissa repeated, flat, staring like Elizabeth just confessed to joining a cult.

Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows in a way that dared Nerissa to argue. “It was an experiment in a controlled environment.”

Nerissa’s brain offered her the image of Elizabeth, earnest and determined, walking up to another Elizabeth and kissing her with the solemnity of a lab technician. It was absurd. It was also, infuriatingly, easy to believe.

Nerissa’s cheeks warmed despite herself. “Was it weird?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth exhaled, like she expected that question.

“Was it good?”

Elizabeth’s lips parted, then she made a face that looked suspiciously like embarrassment. “It was… interesting.”

Nerissa’s stomach flipped again, and she hated how delighted she felt about that one word.

“Interesting,” Nerissa echoed.

“It was not the same as kissing you,” Elizabeth said immediately, like she noticed Nerissa’s reaction and filed it away for later mischief.

Nerissa’s chest softened. “I know.”

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened gently at Nerissa’s waist. “I didn’t tell you before because it didn’t matter,” she said. “It was… a moment. And then I came home and lived my life. And then we grew closer, and the multiverse stopped being the most interesting thing about me.”

Nerissa swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “Okay,” she said, trying for casual and failing. “So. You kissed a version of yourself.”

A small nod.

Nerissa’s gaze betrayed her, dropping to Elizabeth’s mouth like it held additional information.

Elizabeth’s eyes flicked down to Nerissa’s lips in turn, then back up, like she caught the stare and didn’t mind it. “Nerissa,” she said, fondly, like she scolded Little Baby for trying to trip her.

Nerissa’s eyes snapped back up. “Don’t ‘Nerissa’ me.”

Elizabeth’s mouth curved. “You look intrigued.”

Nerissa bristled on reflex. “I’m not.”

Elizabeth hummed, unconvinced, and Nerissa felt her face heat up with the awful certainty of being seen perfectly.

“Okay, fine,” Nerissa said, leaning back a fraction and squinting like that helped. “I’m intrigued. I’m also–” She gestured helplessly. “I’m also flustered, and I hate that about myself.”

A thumb brushed along Nerissa’s hip through the fabric, grounding and gentle.

“Did it feel like… kissing yourself?” Nerissa asked, voice quieter now.

Elizabeth considered. “No,” she said slowly. “It felt like kissing someone who understood my body language almost better than I did. Like… there was no translation needed.”

Nerissa’s breath caught, and she hated that too. “That sounds…”

“Intimate?” Elizabeth offered, careful.

Nerissa nodded, because yes. Exactly. And the word made her pulse jump.

“It was intimate in a strange way,” Elizabeth said. “Not romantic. Not love. Just… recognition.”

Nerissa’s mouth went dry. “And what about–”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “What about what?”

Nerissa forced the words out like they weren’t embarrassing. “What about kissing a male version of yourself?”

Elizabeth blinked, and then her mouth twitched as if she fought a smile.

“Don’t,” Nerissa groaned.

Elizabeth laughed, low. “You’re really asking me this.”

“You started it!” Nerissa yelped, throwing her hands up.

Elizabeth caught Nerissa’s wrists gently and lowered them, their fingers intertwining. The touch steadied Nerissa even as her brain shorted out.

“I met one,” Elizabeth said, tone shifting back to honest. “A few years ago. Not Elias. Another. Different name. Different life.”

“And?”

Elizabeth held Nerissa’s gaze steadily. “And yes,” she said. “I kissed him too.”

Nerissa’s brain stopped. She opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Elizabeth held her gaze with open, unbothered sincerity, like she refused to let the conversation become shameful.

“You’re telling me you’ve kissed–” Nerissa finally managed.

“A few of me,” Elizabeth said, gentle amusement returning. “Yes.”

Nerissa stared. “How many is ‘a few’?”

Elizabeth’s smile turned a little sheepish. “Enough that I feel confident in my data set.”

Nerissa made a strangled sound and dropped her forehead to Elizabeth’s shoulder, her voice muffled. “You’re unbelievable.”

Elizabeth’s laugh rumbled through her chest. She kissed the top of Nerissa’s head. “I was curious.”

Nerissa lifted her head again, eyes narrow. “So you’re allowed to be curious, but when I’m curious, you–”

“I didn’t say you weren’t allowed,” Elizabeth said, mouth quirking.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” Elizabeth admitted, openly fond, like she loved watching Nerissa’s composure melt.

Nerissa huffed, then the words fell out too fast to stop. “Tell me the difference.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened into something careful. “Do you want the honest answer?”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth leaned in slightly, still holding Nerissa’s wrists loosely, like she wanted her close without trapping her. “Kissing him felt… heavier,” she said. “Not better. Not worse. Just… different physics. The pressure. The shape. The way my brain kept trying to make sense of it.”

Nerissa’s pulse thudded loud in her ears.

“It reminded me that I was still me,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Even when I stood in front of another version of me. It wasn’t a mirror. It was… two people.”

“And you didn’t feel… weird about it after?” Nerissa asked.

“I felt weird for about a day,” Elizabeth admitted. “Then I realized weird wasn’t the same as wrong. And I realized I didn’t want to make myself small just because the universe was big.”

Nerissa stared at her, suddenly feeling too seen. “You always say things like that.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You like it.”

Nerissa opened her mouth to argue and couldn’t, because she did. She hated that she did.

Elizabeth’s hands slid from Nerissa’s hands to her waist again, slow and deliberate. “Are you okay?” she asked, more serious. “With me telling you this now?”

Nerissa exhaled. “Yeah. I just–” A soft, helpless laugh escaped her. “I can’t believe you had a whole multiverse kissing phase and never told me.”

“It wasn’t a phase,” Elizabeth said, eyes crinkling.

“Elizabeth.” Nerissa groaned and shoved at her gently.

Elizabeth caught her and held her closer instead, amused. “I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t look sorry at all. “I didn’t think it would ever come up.”

“It came up,” Nerissa said, voice small and very honest.

“It did,” Elizabeth agreed, gentling again.

Nerissa hesitated, then asked the question she couldn’t stop circling. “So,” she said, trying for casual and failing, “if you kissed a male you… and it was interesting… does that mean–”

“Does that mean what?” Elizabeth asked, tilting her head.

Nerissa’s cheeks burned. “Does that mean you’re… okay with me being intrigued by Elias?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said simply. “I’m not threatened by a version of me.”

Nerissa stared. “That’s the most confident sentence I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re mine,” Elizabeth said, gentle and certain. “And you’re you. You’re allowed to feel things.”

Nerissa’s throat tightened. She blinked hard. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not always easy,” Elizabeth admitted. “But it’s simple. I love you. I trust you. And I don’t want our love to be built out of fear.”

Something soft and painful moved through Nerissa’s chest. She leaned in and kissed Elizabeth – slow, lingering, grounding herself in the familiar.

Elizabeth kissed back with steady warmth, hands firm at Nerissa’s waist like she anchored her to the present.

When they broke apart, Nerissa rested her forehead against Elizabeth’s and breathed, “You’re going to ruin my brain.”