Archive of Our Own

It starts small. It always does.

Like a look that lingers a second too long. Like the way Lara says Megan’s name when she’s half-laughing, half-tired, like Megan is something she leans on without realizing it. Like the way Megan pretends she doesn’t notice.

But she notices everything.

Every text. Every pause. Every time Lara says Orlando’s name like it means something solid, something real, something permanent.

Megan hates that name.

Not in a loud way. Not at first. It’s quieter than that. It sits in her chest like a bad habit she can’t shake. Like a bruise she keeps pressing just to feel something.

Orlando.

The boyfriend.

The problem.

The reason Megan keeps pretending she’s fine when she’s not.

They’re sitting on the curb outside Lara’s house when it really starts to spiral. It’s late, sky going from purple to that deep, endless dark, and Lara’s talking about something random, something about school or her mum or some dumb TikTok she saw, and Megan’s just watching her.

Because that’s what she does. Watches.

Lara’s hands move when she talks. Her voice gets soft when she’s thinking. She tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. Megan knows all of it like muscle memory.

“You’re not even listening,” Lara says, nudging her.

“I am,” Megan lies.

“What did I just say then?”

Megan shrugs, smirks a little. “Something about how I’m your favorite person.”

Lara rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, and that smile hits Megan straight in the chest like it always does. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you like me.”

“Barely.”

It’s a joke. It’s always a joke. Everything between them is wrapped in jokes so it doesn’t feel like something else. Something heavier.

Something dangerous.

Megan laughs, but it sticks in her throat.

Because she does like her.

Too much.

And Lara has Orlando.

Always Orlando.

The thing is, Megan didn’t mean to get this close.

At first, it was just convenience. Same classes, same friends, same stupid inside jokes. Late-night calls that turned into early-morning ones. Hanging out turned into needing to hang out.

Somewhere in between all that, Megan stopped being able to breathe right when Lara was too close.

And Lara… Lara didn’t pull away.

That was the problem.

If Lara had just kept her distance, kept it normal, kept it casual, Megan could’ve dealt with it. She could’ve buried it. Ignored it. Pretended.

But Lara didn’t.

She leaned in.

She rested her head on Megan’s shoulder during movies. She grabbed Megan’s hand when she was laughing too hard. She texted her first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

And yeah, she had a boyfriend.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like it.

Sometimes it felt like Megan was the one who mattered.

Which is exactly why it hurt so much.

The first time Megan sees Orlando properly, like really sees him, she already hates him.

Not because he’s done anything. Not yet.

But because he exists in a space Megan wants.

He’s tall. Annoyingly confident. The kind of guy who doesn’t think twice before putting his arm around Lara like she belongs there.

Megan watches it happen from across the courtyard, jaw tight, hands shoved in her pockets.

Lara lights up when she sees him. It’s immediate. Effortless.

Different.

That’s what kills Megan.

Because Lara smiles at Megan all the time. Laughs with her, leans into her, shares things she says she doesn’t tell anyone else.

But this?

This is something else.

“Hey!” Lara calls when she spots Megan, waving her over like nothing’s weird.

Like Megan’s not standing there watching Lara fit perfectly into someone else’s arms.

Megan forces herself to walk over.

“Hi,” she says, voice casual, like her chest isn’t doing that tight, ugly thing again.

“Meg, this is Orlando.”

Yeah. She knows.

Orlando gives her a once-over. Not mean. Not kind either. Just… dismissive.

“Hey.”

Megan nods. “Yeah.”

That’s it. That’s all they say to each other.

But it’s enough.

Enough for Megan to decide she doesn’t like him.

Enough for Orlando to decide Megan is nothing.

And somehow, that makes everything worse.

Weeks pass.

Then months.

And somehow, Megan and Lara just… get closer.

It’s subtle at first. Then it’s not.

They sit closer. Talk longer. Touch more.

People start noticing.

“You two are weirdly intense,” one of their friends says one day, laughing it off.

Lara laughs too. Megan does not.

Because it’s not funny.

It’s real.

Too real.

There’s a night when it rains, and they’re stuck under a bus stop shelter, soaked and freezing, and Lara is laughing like it’s the best thing in the world.

“Come here,” she says, grabbing Megan’s hoodie and pulling her closer.

Megan’s heart stutters.

They’re inches apart. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. Close enough that Megan forgets how to think.

“You’re shaking,” Lara says, softer now.

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but I’m tougher.”

Megan huffs a quiet laugh, but she doesn’t move away.

Neither does Lara.

And for a second, just one second, it feels like something is about to happen.

Like maybe, just maybe—

Lara’s phone buzzes.

She pulls back instantly.

Checks the screen.

Smiles.

“Orlando,” she says.

Of course.

Megan looks away, jaw tightening.

“Yeah, I’m with Megan… no, we’re fine… okay, I’ll call you when I get home.”

That moment?

Gone.

Just like that.

And Megan hates herself for thinking it could’ve been anything else.

The worst part is, Lara never notices.

Or maybe she does and just… ignores it.

Because it’s easier.

Because Megan is safe.

Megan won’t mess things up.

Except she does.

Eventually.

It happens on a random evening. No build-up, no warning.

Just bad timing and worse luck.

Megan’s at a restaurant with her cousin, half-paying attention to the conversation, when she sees him.

Orlando.

Across the room.

Laughing.

With a girl who is definitely not Lara.

The girl is leaning into him. His hand is on her arm. It’s not friendly. It’s not casual.

It’s something else.

Something ugly.

Megan stares, heart pounding.

No.

No way.

But it’s him.

It has to be.

And something inside her twists.

Because this is it.

This is proof.

Proof that Orlando isn’t what Lara thinks he is.

Proof that Megan’s not crazy for hating him.

Proof that—

She grabs her phone.

Types fast.

You need to see this.

Lara replies almost instantly.

See what?

Megan hesitates, then types:

Your boyfriend’s here. With another girl.

The typing bubble appears.

Disappears.

Appears again.

What?

I’m serious.

You’re joking.

I’m not.

A pause.

Then:

You’re lying.

Megan’s chest drops.

Why would I lie about that?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Send a picture.

Megan looks back. Tries to angle her phone without being obvious.

Her hands are shaking.

She manages to get something. It’s not perfect, but it’s clear enough.

She sends it.

Waits.

Seconds stretch.

Then Lara replies:

That’s not him.

Megan stares at the screen.

Are you kidding me?

It literally is.

It’s not.

Megan feels something snap.

Lara, I’m looking right at him.

You’re wrong.

I’m not wrong!

Yes you are!

Megan exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair.

This is insane.

Why won’t you just believe me?

Because you hate him.

The words hit harder than they should.

Megan freezes.

I don’t hate him for no reason.

Yeah you do.

No I don’t.

You’ve always had a problem with him, Megan.

Because he’s—

She stops herself.

Because he’s what?

Because he’s not good for you, she types instead.

Lara doesn’t reply immediately.

When she does, it’s worse.

You don’t get to decide that.

Megan stares at the message, anger bubbling up fast and hot.

I’m trying to help you.

No, you’re trying to start something.

That’s not fair.

Neither is making stuff up about my boyfriend.

Megan’s hands are shaking now.

I’m not making anything up.

Whatever.

That one word.

It kills her.

Because it means Lara’s done.

Done listening.

Done caring.

Megan swallows hard, blinking back something she refuses to call tears.

Fine, she types.

Believe what you want.

She shoves her phone away, appetite gone, chest tight.

The rest of the night feels wrong.

Like something important just broke.

And deep down, she knows it did.

The next day is worse.

Because Lara doesn’t text.

Doesn’t call.

Nothing.

And Megan tells herself she doesn’t care.

But she does.

God, she does.

By the time she finally sees Lara in person, everything is already boiling over.

They’re outside school, tension thick between them.

“You really went that far?” Lara says, voice sharp.

Megan scoffs. “I didn’t go anywhere. I told you what I saw.”

“You sent a blurry picture and expected me to just—what, believe you over him?”

“Yes!”

Lara shakes her head. “That’s insane, Megan.”

Megan laughs, but it’s not funny. “Yeah, I’m the insane one. Not your boyfriend out there cheating on you.”

“He’s not cheating!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I trust him!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t!”

The words hang there.

Heavy.

Wrong.

Lara’s expression hardens. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Megan feels her chest tighten. “I’m trying to protect you!”

“No, you’re trying to ruin my relationship!”

“I wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t—”

“Stop!” Lara snaps.

Megan freezes.

“You don’t get to talk about him like that.”

“I get to when he’s hurting you!”

“He’s not!”

“He is, you just won’t see it!”

“Because it’s not true!”

“It is!”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Lara demands, voice rising.

Megan hesitates.

Because she can’t say it.

She can’t say the real reason.

So she goes with anger instead.

“Because someone has to care enough to tell you the truth!”

“I care about him!” Lara shoots back. “And he cares about me!”

“Yeah, sure he does. That’s why he’s out with other girls!”

“That wasn’t him!”

“It was!”

“It wasn’t!”

“Why won’t you just listen to me?”

“Because you’re lying!”

The word lands like a slap before anything even happens.

Megan’s breath catches.

“I’m not lying,” she says, voice breaking slightly.

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

“You hate him, Megan!”

“Maybe I do!”

“Exactly!”

“Because he’s ruining everything!”

Lara goes still.

“…What?”

Megan freezes.

She said too much.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” Lara cuts in, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean ruining everything?”

Megan’s chest is heaving now. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—”

“Then say it!”

Megan shakes her head. “Just forget it.”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to accuse my boyfriend of cheating and then act like—”

“I saw him!” Megan yells.

“And I said you didn’t!”

“I did!”

“You’re twisting things!”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

Something snaps.

Lara steps closer.

“Why can’t you just be normal about this?” she demands.

Megan lets out a shaky laugh. “Normal? You want normal? Fine. Your boyfriend’s a saint, I’m a liar, everything’s perfect. Happy?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“It’s what you meant!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Then what did you mean, Lara? Because right now it just sounds like you trust him more than me.”

“I do!”

The words come out fast.

Too fast.

And they hit Megan like a punch.

Everything goes quiet for a second.

Megan’s face crumples before she can stop it.

“Oh,” she says, barely audible.

Lara looks like she regrets it immediately.

“Megan, I didn’t—”

But it’s too late.

Because something in Megan just… breaks.

“I get it,” she says, voice shaking. “I really do.”

“You’re taking it the wrong way—”

“No, I’m not!” Megan snaps, tears spilling over now. “I’m taking it exactly how you said it!”

“Stop crying,” Lara says, frustrated.

And that—

That makes it worse.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Megan shouts, wiping her face angrily.

“I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not just saying anything, Lara, you’re—”

“God, why are you making this such a big deal?”

Megan stares at her.

“A big deal?” she repeats.

“Yes!”

Megan lets out a broken laugh. “Right. Of course. Why would this be a big deal?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this!”

“Because I care about you!” Megan yells. “Because I actually care and you’re just—”

“Just what?”

Megan chokes on the words.

Because she can’t say them.

She can’t say I love you.

So it comes out wrong.

“You’re just choosing him over everything!”

“I’m choosing my relationship!” Lara fires back.

“And what are we then?” Megan blurts out.

Silence.

Lara hesitates.

And that hesitation says everything.

Megan’s heart drops.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Megan—”

“No, it’s fine. I get it.”

“You’re twisting things again.”

“I’m not twisting anything! I’m just finally seeing it clearly!”

Lara shakes her head, frustrated. “You’re being dramatic.”

Megan flinches.

“I’m being honest,” she says quietly.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re—”

“Why can’t you just believe me?” Megan pleads, tears falling faster now.

“Because there’s nothing to believe!”

“There is!”

“There isn’t!”

“Lara—”

“Stop!” Lara shouts.

And then it happens.

Quick. Sharp.

The sound echoes more than it should.

Lara’s hand connects with Megan’s cheek.

Everything freezes.

For a second, neither of them moves.

Megan just stands there.

Doesn’t hit back.

Doesn’t speak.

Her hand slowly comes up to her face, fingers trembling where the sting lingers.

Her eyes fill instantly.

And then—

She breaks.

Not angry.

Not loud.

Just… shattered.

A sob rips out of her before she can stop it, raw and ugly and real.

Lara’s expression shifts immediately. “Oh my god—Megan, I didn’t mean—”

But Megan’s already shaking her head, stepping back.

“You hit me,” she says, voice cracked beyond repair.

“I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking—”

“You hit me,” she repeats, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Megan lets out a broken laugh, wiping at her cheeks even though it does nothing.

“Wow,” she whispers. “That’s… that’s crazy.”

“Megan, please—”

But Megan’s already backing away.

“I just— I tried to help you,” she says, voice shaking uncontrollably. “I tried to be there for you and you just— you don’t even—”

“I do care about you!”

“No, you don’t!” Megan cries. “You don’t, Lara, because if you did, you would’ve believed me! You would’ve listened!”

“I was just upset—”

“So was I!”

“I know, I know—”

“No, you don’t know!” Megan snaps. “You don’t know anything!”

Her chest is heaving, tears not stopping, not slowing.

“I saw him,” she says again, softer now, more broken. “I saw him and I thought… I thought you’d want to know.”

Lara’s eyes fill with guilt.

“I just wanted to protect you,” Megan whispers.

“I know…”

“But you chose him anyway.”

Silence.

That’s the answer.

Megan nods slowly, like she expected it.

“Yeah,” she says. “Okay.”

“Megan, please don’t go like this—”

“I’m not going home,” Megan mutters, more to herself than anything.

“What?”

“I’m not going home,” she repeats, shaking her head, wiping her face again. “I can’t.”

“Then… then stay. We can talk—”

“No,” Megan says quickly. “No, I can’t be here either.”

“Megan—”

“I just need… I don’t know. Somewhere else.”

Her voice is small now.

Gone is the anger.

Gone is the fight.

There’s just hurt.

Heavy, suffocating hurt.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” she says quietly.

“Neither did I.”

Megan nods, even though it doesn’t fix anything.

Nothing fixes this.

“Just… believe me someday,” Megan whispers. “Even if it’s too late.”

And then she turns.

Walks away.

Not looking back.

Because if she does, she might not leave.

And leaving is the only thing she has left.

---

The silence after that night isn’t loud.

It’s worse than loud.

It’s empty.

Like something got ripped out and nobody knows how to put it back.

Megan doesn’t text.

Lara almost does.

A hundred times.

She types out messages at 2 a.m., deletes them before they send. Starts conversations in her head that never make it past her thumbs hovering over the screen.

Are you okay?

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to—

Delete.

Because what even is there to say after that?

You hit me.

The words won’t leave her head.

They replay at the worst times. In class. In the shower. When she’s trying to fall asleep and everything gets too quiet.

The look on Megan’s face right after.

Not anger.

Not even shock.

Just… broken.

Lara swallows it down every time it comes up, like she can force it out of existence if she ignores it hard enough.

It doesn’t work.

Nothing works.

So she does what she always does when things get messy.

She clings to what’s supposed to be stable.

Orlando.

Except… even that starts slipping.

At first, it’s small.

He takes longer to reply.

Leaves her on read more often.

When they hang out, he’s on his phone half the time, thumb scrolling, attention somewhere else.

“You good?” Lara asks one afternoon, watching him barely look up from his screen.

“Yeah,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “Just tired.”

“Tired from what?”

“Stuff.”

Stuff.

That’s all he gives her.

Lara frowns but lets it go.

Because she doesn’t want to be that girlfriend.

The clingy one. The suspicious one.

The one who starts problems over nothing.

So she ignores it.

Just like she ignored Megan.

That thought hits harder than she expects.

She shakes it off.

It’s not the same.

It can’t be the same.

Days turn into weeks.

And Megan becomes this… absence.

She’s still around.

Technically.

Same school. Same hallways. Same everything.

But not really.

Not in the way that matters.

They pass each other sometimes.

It’s awkward every time.

Megan doesn’t look at her.

Or if she does, it’s quick. Accidental. Like touching something that still hurts.

Her eyes look different.

That’s what gets Lara.

They used to be bright when they saw her. Soft. Familiar.

Now they’re guarded.

Closed off.

Like Lara doesn’t get access anymore.

And she doesn’t.

That’s the worst part.

Because she did that.

Meanwhile, Orlando keeps drifting.

He cancels plans more.

“Something came up.”

“I’m busy.”

“Another time, yeah?”

At first, Lara believes it.

Then she starts noticing patterns.

The way he angles his phone away when he texts.

The way he steps out to take calls.

The way he gets irritated when she asks simple questions.

“Who was that?”

“No one.”

“You just said you’d call them back.”

“Lara, it’s not a big deal.”

Everything is not a big deal to him.

Until it is.

Until one night, they’re sitting together and his phone buzzes on the table between them.

He doesn’t pick it up right away.

Which is weird.

Because he always picks it up right away.

Lara glances down without thinking.

A name flashes across the screen.

Not hers.

Not familiar.

Just… a name.

And a message.

Miss you already.

Her stomach drops.

“Who’s that?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Orlando snatches the phone a second too fast.

“No one.”

The same answer.

Always the same answer.

But this time, it doesn’t land the same.

“Don’t say no one,” Lara says, voice tight. “That’s not no one.”

“It’s just a friend.”

“Since when do your friends text you like that?”

He exhales, annoyed. “You’re overthinking it.”

Am I?

The question sits heavy in her chest.

Because suddenly—

She’s not thinking about Orlando.

She’s thinking about a restaurant.

A blurry photo.

Megan’s voice through texts.

I’m serious.

I’m looking right at him.

And Lara’s own reply.

You’re lying.

Her chest tightens.

“You okay?” Orlando asks, but he doesn’t sound concerned. Just impatient.

“Yeah,” Lara says automatically.

But she’s not.

Not even close.

That night, she can’t sleep.

She stares at her ceiling, phone in hand, scrolling through old messages.

Not Orlando’s.

Megan’s.

Because she never deleted them.

Couldn’t.

There’s too many.

Late-night conversations. Dumb jokes. Random thoughts sent at 3 a.m. like they couldn’t wait.

It feels like a different lifetime.

Like a different version of them.

Her thumb hovers over Megan’s name.

She could text her.

Right now.

Just say something.

Anything.

But then the memory hits again.

You hit me.

Lara squeezes her eyes shut.

God.

What if Megan hates her?

What if she never wants to talk again?

What if—

Her phone buzzes.

Orlando.

You awake?

Lara stares at it.

For a second, she considers ignoring it.

Then she replies.

Yeah.

He sends back:

Come over?

She hesitates.

Normally, she wouldn’t.

Normally, she’d grab her hoodie and go without thinking.

But now…

Now something feels off.

Still, she types:

Okay.

Because what else is she supposed to do?

She gets there, and it’s… normal.

Too normal.

He smiles. Pulls her into a hug. Acts like everything’s fine.

Like nothing’s changed.

Like she didn’t see that message.

Like she’s not slowly starting to feel like she’s losing him.

They sit together, watch something on his laptop, barely paying attention.

His arm is around her.

It feels familiar.

But not the same.

There’s a distance now.

Small, but noticeable.

Like a crack in glass you can’t unsee once you’ve spotted it.

“You’re quiet,” he says after a while.

“Just tired.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He nods, not pushing further.

And that—

That bothers her too.

Because Megan would’ve pushed.

Megan would’ve noticed something was off immediately.

Megan would’ve kept asking until Lara either talked or got annoyed.

Megan cared like that.

Too much, sometimes.

Lara swallows hard.

“Can I ask you something?” she says suddenly.

Orlando shrugs. “Sure.”

“Are you… happy?”

The question hangs there.

Weird.

Unexpected.

He frowns slightly. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer it.”

He looks at her properly now, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I guess.”

You guess.

Lara’s chest tightens.

“What about you?” he asks.

Lara opens her mouth.

Closes it.

Because she doesn’t know.

Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly.

Orlando exhales, leaning back. “Lara…”

“What?”

“If something’s wrong, just say it.”

The irony almost makes her laugh.

“If something was wrong, would you tell me?” she shoots back.

He hesitates.

Just for a second.

But it’s enough.

Lara’s stomach drops.

“That’s what I thought,” she says softly.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make things weird.”

“I’m not making things weird,” she says, voice rising slightly. “Things are weird.”

“They’re not.”

“They are!”

“Only because you’re overthinking again.”

There it is.

That word.

Again.

Lara’s jaw tightens.

“Maybe I wouldn’t overthink if you actually told me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth!”

“Then who was that girl?”

He goes still.

“What girl?”

“The one texting you.”

“I told you, it’s a friend.”

“Yeah, and you expect me to just believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

The question hits different now.

Sharp.

Uncomfortable.

Because she knows the answer.

Or at least… she should.

Lara lets out a shaky breath.

“Because I trusted someone once when they told me something I didn’t want to hear,” she says slowly.

Orlando frowns. “What?”

“And I chose not to believe them,” she continues, more to herself now.

“Lara, what are you talking about?”

She looks at him.

Really looks at him.

And suddenly—

She’s not sure anymore.

Not about him.

Not about anything.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” she asks, voice quieter now.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

And that silence?

It’s everything.

Lara feels it settle in her chest.

Heavy.

Final.

“Right?” she repeats.

“Of course not,” he says, but it sounds… off.

Not convincing.

Not real.

And suddenly, all she can hear is Megan’s voice in her head.

I saw him.

I’m not lying.

Why won’t you believe me?

Lara’s throat tightens.

Because now—

Now she doesn’t know what to believe.

And the worst part?

She thinks she might already know the answer.

---

It sits in her chest for days.

Not just doubt.

Not just suspicion.

Guilt.

The kind that doesn’t let you breathe right. The kind that shows up in quiet moments and presses down until everything feels heavier than it should.

Lara starts noticing everything now.

Every late reply.

Every turned screen.

Every time Orlando says “it’s nothing” a little too quickly.

And every single time, Megan’s voice echoes in the back of her head.

I’m looking right at him.

You’re wrong.

I’m not wrong.

Lara presses her palms into her eyes one night, sitting on her bedroom floor, phone beside her, screen lit up with another short, dry message from Orlando.

Can’t talk tonight.

No explanation.

No follow-up.

Just that.

She stares at it for a long time.

Then finally—

Something in her snaps.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just… done.

She grabs her hoodie, shoves her phone into her pocket, and heads out.

Because she needs to hear it.

From him.

No more guessing. No more overthinking. No more pretending everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.

She finds him where he always is this time of night.

Outside his friend’s place, leaning against the wall, phone in hand.

He looks up when he sees her, surprised.

“Lara? What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just walks up, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“We need to talk.”

He sighs immediately, like it’s already an inconvenience. “About what?”

“Don’t do that,” she says sharply. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, pushing himself off the wall. “If this is about me not texting back—”

“It’s not just that!” Lara cuts in.

Her voice comes out louder than she expected.

He blinks, taken aback for half a second.

“Then what is it?”

Lara hesitates.

Because saying it out loud makes it real.

But she’s already here.

Already in it.

So she just… goes for it.

“It’s about that night,” she says.

“What night?”

“The restaurant.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Lara’s heart starts pounding.

“Megan saw you,” she says, watching his face carefully. “With another girl.”

There’s a pause.

A small one.

But it’s there.

And Lara notices.

Because now she’s looking for everything.

“That again?” he says finally, scoffing. “You’re still on that?”

“I wasn’t before,” she says quietly. “But now I am.”

“Why?”

“Because things feel off,” she admits. “Because you’ve been acting weird. Because I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Lara, we already talked about this. That wasn’t me.”

“She said it was.”

“She hates me,” he snaps. “Of course she’d say that.”

The words land wrong.

Too sharp.

Too easy.

Lara’s brows knit together. “Why would she lie about something like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, sarcasm dripping. “Maybe because she’s obsessed with you?”

Lara stiffens.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, say that again.”

He exhales, clearly irritated. “She’s obsessed with you, Lara. It’s obvious.”

“That’s not—”

“Are you serious?” he cuts her off. “The way she’s always around you, always in your business, acting like she knows what’s best for you? It’s weird.”

Lara’s chest tightens.

“She’s my friend.”

“She’s not just your friend,” he says flatly.

“And you know that how?”

“Because I’m not blind,” he snaps. “Everyone can see it.”

“See what?”

“That she’s into you.”

The words hit like a slap of their own.

Lara freezes.

“No,” she says immediately. “That’s not—”

“Come on, Lara,” he interrupts. “You really didn’t notice? Or are you just pretending not to?”

“That’s not true,” she insists, but her voice wavers slightly.

Because—

Because something about it feels too close to something she’s been avoiding.

“She literally tried to break us up,” he continues. “Told you I was cheating with zero proof.”

“She had proof,” Lara says weakly.

“A blurry photo? That’s not proof. That’s desperate.”

Lara flinches.

“Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? It fits.”

“Orlando—”

“No, seriously, think about it,” he pushes on. “Who does that? Who goes out of their way to make up stuff about someone’s boyfriend?”

“She said she saw you.”

“And I said she didn’t!” he shoots back. “Why is her word suddenly more important than mine?”

“It’s not—”

“Because it sounds like it is,” he cuts in.

Lara shakes her head, overwhelmed. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re letting her get in your head.”

“She’s not in my head.”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

Because I don’t trust you.

The thought comes fast.

Sharp.

Unavoidable.

Lara swallows hard.

“Just answer me honestly,” she says. “Were you there? That night?”

He looks at her.

Really looks at her.

And for a second—

Something flickers.

Annoyance.

Defensiveness.

Maybe even guilt.

But then it’s gone.

“No,” he says.

Too smooth.

Too easy.

Lara’s stomach twists.

“Look,” he adds, tone softer now, like he’s trying to fix things. “I don’t know what Megan’s problem is, but she clearly has one. And you need to stop letting her mess with your head like this.”

“She’s not messing with my head,” Lara says, but it comes out quieter now.

“Then what is she doing?”

Lara doesn’t answer.

Because she doesn’t know.

Because now everything feels tangled.

Messy.

Wrong.

“She’s trying to ruin what we have,” he says firmly.

The words echo.

Ruin what we have.

And suddenly—

Lara’s not sure what that even is anymore.

Because if this is what they have—

Distance.

Half-truths.

Arguments that go in circles—

Then maybe it’s already ruined.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Lara says, but there’s no conviction behind it.

“Yeah, she would,” Orlando replies immediately. “She’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of me. Of us. Of the fact that you’re with me and not… whatever she wants you to be.”

Lara’s chest tightens again.

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is accusing me of cheating because your friend can’t handle boundaries.”

“She’s not like that.”

“She is,” he insists. “You just don’t want to see it.”

The irony burns.

Because that’s exactly what Megan said.

You just won’t see it.

Lara exhales slowly, dragging a hand over her face.

“This is messed up,” she mutters.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees. “And it’s because of her.”

Something about that—

The way he says it.

The way he shifts all the blame so easily.

So completely—

It doesn’t sit right.

Not anymore.

“Why are you so quick to tear her down?” Lara asks suddenly.

He frowns. “What?”

“You keep calling her obsessed. Desperate. Like she’s the problem.”

“Because she is.”

“But you don’t even know her.”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t,” Lara says, voice firming slightly. “You barely talk to her.”

“I don’t need to talk to her to see what she’s doing.”

“And what exactly is she doing?”

“Trying to get between us!”

Lara shakes her head.

“Or maybe she was trying to warn me.”

The moment the words leave her mouth—

Everything shifts.

Orlando’s expression hardens.

“Oh, so now you believe her?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I’m just saying maybe—”

“Maybe what?” he snaps. “Maybe I’m the bad guy? Is that it?”

“I don’t know!” Lara admits, frustration spilling over. “That’s the problem, I don’t know anything anymore!”

“Well, that sounds like a you issue,” he says coldly.

The words hit harder than anything else he’s said.

Lara goes still.

“A me issue?” she repeats.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “If you can’t trust me, that’s not my fault.”

Her chest tightens.

“Trust isn’t just automatic, Orlando,” she says quietly. “It’s built.”

“And I haven’t built it?”

“I don’t know,” she says again. “Have you?”

He stares at her, clearly irritated now.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” he snaps. “You’re throwing away our relationship over some jealous friend who clearly wants you for herself.”

“Stop saying that,” Lara says sharply.

“Why? Because it’s true?”

“No, because it’s not!”

“Then why does she care so much?” he challenges. “Why was she crying over you? Why was she so worked up about me?”

Lara freezes.

Because—

Because he’s not wrong about that part.

Megan did care too much.

Megan was crying.

Megan was breaking apart over this.

But not for the reasons he thinks.

At least…

Lara doesn’t think so.

Does she?

“She cares about me,” Lara says slowly.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Way too much.”

“And you don’t?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

And that silence—

It’s familiar now.

Too familiar.

“I’m not doing this,” he mutters, stepping back slightly. “Call me when you figure your shit out.”

And just like that—

He starts to walk away.

Lara stands there, watching him go.

And for the first time—

She doesn’t chase after him.

Doesn’t call his name.

Doesn’t try to fix it.

She just stands there.

Heart pounding.

Thoughts racing.

Because everything feels like it’s finally catching up to her.

Megan’s voice.

Orlando’s excuses.

The distance.

The doubt.

The guilt.

All of it crashing together at once.

And in the middle of it—

One question won’t leave her alone.

What if Megan was telling the truth?

Her chest tightens.

Because if that’s true—

Then she didn’t just choose Orlando over Megan.

She chose wrong.

And now—

She might’ve lost both.

---

It’s raining again.

Of course it is.

Not light, not soft—just heavy, relentless rain that soaks through everything in seconds. The kind that makes the streets blur and the air feel colder than it should.

Lara barely notices.

She’s been walking for who knows how long, hoodie useless against the downpour, hair plastered to her face, hands shaking so bad she almost drops her phone twice trying to check the address she already knows by heart.

Megan’s house.

She hasn’t been here in weeks.

Not since—

Her stomach twists.

You hit me.

The memory makes her feel sick.

But she keeps walking.

Because there’s nowhere else to go.

Because she can’t hold it in anymore.

Because Megan was right.

God, she was right.

The thought loops over and over in her head, mixing with everything Orlando said, everything he didn’t say, every hesitation, every lie that now feels obvious in hindsight.

It wasn’t nothing.

It wasn’t overthinking.

It wasn’t Megan being “obsessed” or “jealous” or whatever shitty excuse he threw out to make himself look better.

Megan saw him.

Megan told the truth.

And Lara—

Lara chose not to believe her.

Chose him.

Her chest tightens painfully as she reaches the front door.

Her hand hovers for a second.

What if Megan doesn’t answer?

What if she does?

What if she slams the door in her face?

What if she should?

Lara swallows hard and knocks anyway.

Once.

Twice.

Her heart is racing so fast it feels like it might actually give out.

For a second, there’s nothing.

Just rain hitting the pavement, loud and endless.

Then—

The door opens.

Megan stands there.

Dry.

Warm.

Safe.

Everything Lara isn’t right now.

For a moment, they just stare at each other.

Megan’s expression shifts almost instantly—from confusion to something sharper, something guarded—before it softens again when she really looks at Lara.

Because Lara looks like a mess.

Shaking.

Drenched.

Eyes red.

Barely holding it together.

“Lara?” Megan says, voice cautious but not cold. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry.”

It spills out immediately.

No build-up. No control.

Just raw and desperate and shaking.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Lara says again, her voice cracking, words tripping over each other. “I messed up, I messed up so bad, I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve believed you—”

“Hey—hey, stop,” Megan cuts in quickly, stepping forward without even thinking.

Her hands come up, instinctive, steadying Lara by the shoulders.

“You’re soaked,” she says, frowning. “Why didn’t you—come inside first, you’re freezing.”

“I don’t care about that,” Lara shakes her head, tears mixing with rain on her face. “I care about—about what I did, about you, I hurt you and I didn’t even—”

“Lara,” Megan says more firmly this time, pulling her inside before she can keep spiraling. “Get in here.”

The door shuts behind them, cutting off the sound of the rain just enough to make everything feel too quiet.

Too real.

Lara stands there dripping onto the floor, still trying to talk through uneven breaths.

“I didn’t believe you, and you were right, he—he’s been acting weird and I asked him and he just—he kept deflecting and saying things about you and I didn’t even defend you properly and—”

“Stop,” Megan says again, softer now.

She grabs a towel from the nearby chair and gently presses it into Lara’s hands.

“Dry off. You’re shaking.”

“I don’t care about that,” Lara repeats, voice breaking.

“I do.”

That makes Lara pause.

Really pause.

Because Megan isn’t angry.

She’s not yelling.

She’s not shutting her out.

She’s just… worried.

Still.

Even after everything.

Lara’s grip tightens on the towel.

“I saw it,” she says, quieter now. “I saw the way he was acting and—and I remembered what you said and I just—I knew. I knew you weren’t lying.”

Megan doesn’t respond right away.

She just watches her.

Careful.

Concerned.

“Sit down,” Megan says after a second, guiding her toward the couch.

Lara goes without arguing this time.

She sits, still clutching the towel like she doesn’t know what else to do with her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, voice smaller now. “For everything. For not believing you. For what I said. For—”

Her eyes flick up.

And that’s when she sees it.

Faint.

Barely visible.

But there.

A light bruise along Megan’s cheekbone.

Lara’s breath catches.

Her stomach drops instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Megan frowns slightly. “What?”

“That—your face—”

Megan instinctively reaches up, fingers brushing the spot like she forgot it was even there.

“It’s nothing,” she says quickly.

But Lara shakes her head, already tearing up again.

“No, it’s not nothing,” she says, voice trembling. “That’s from me.”

Megan goes quiet.

Just for a second.

Then she exhales softly.

“It’s barely even there.”

“I hit you,” Lara says, like saying it out loud might actually break her. “I hit you and you didn’t even—you didn’t do anything back, you just—”

Her voice cracks completely.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out. “I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just got so angry and I—God, I can’t believe I did that to you.”

Megan watches her for a moment.

Then sighs, stepping closer.

“Lara,” she says gently, crouching slightly in front of her. “Hey. Look at me.”

Lara hesitates, then does.

Her eyes are full of tears again.

“I’m okay,” Megan says quietly.

“You’re not,” Lara shakes her head. “I hurt you.”

“And you’re hurting right now,” Megan counters, just as softly.

Lara freezes.

“I’m fine,” she insists weakly.

“You’re soaked, you’re shaking, and you look like you haven’t stopped crying since you got here,” Megan says. “You’re not fine.”

Lara lets out a shaky breath, looking away.

“I deserve it,” she mutters. “After what I did.”

Megan’s expression tightens slightly.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn it into… whatever this is,” Megan says, gesturing vaguely. “You messed up, yeah. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to feel like shit forever.”

Lara lets out a broken laugh. “Feels like I should.”

Megan shakes her head.

“Come here.”

Before Lara can even process it, Megan’s already pulling her up slightly and wrapping the towel around her shoulders properly.

“You’re freezing,” she mutters, rubbing her arms through the fabric to warm her up.

Lara blinks, caught off guard.

“You should be mad at me,” she says quietly.

“I was,” Megan admits. “I am. A little.”

That stings.

But it’s honest.

“I just… can’t focus on that right now,” Megan adds, glancing at her soaked clothes. “You look like you’re about to pass out or something.”

Lara huffs a weak, shaky laugh despite herself.

“I’m not gonna pass out.”

“Yeah? Because you look like it.”

“I just walked in the rain, I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Megan says, clearly not convinced. “Take off the hoodie.”

“What?”

“It’s drenched.”

“So is everything else.”

“Exactly. So take it off, I’ll get you something dry.”

Lara hesitates.

Not because she doesn’t want to.

But because this—

This feels too normal.

Too easy.

After everything that happened.

“Megan…”

“Just do it,” Megan says, softer this time. “Please.”

Lara slowly pulls the hoodie off, dropping it onto the floor with a wet thud.

Megan disappears for a second, then comes back with a random oversized sweatshirt and a pair of joggers.

“Here.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Megan cuts in. “I want to.”

Lara takes them, fingers brushing Megan’s for half a second.

It lingers.

Just slightly.

Then she looks away, throat tight.

“Bathroom’s still the same,” Megan says quietly.

Lara nods.

Takes a step.

Then stops.

“Megan?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry.”

Megan’s expression softens again.

“I know.”

Lara swallows hard.

Then disappears down the hall.

When she comes back, dry but still shaken, Megan’s already cleaned up the puddle by the door and made space on the couch.

“Sit,” she says.

Lara does.

For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Just the faint sound of rain outside filling the silence.

Then Lara exhales shakily.

“I think he cheated on me,” she says.

The words feel heavy.

Final.

Megan doesn’t look surprised.

Just… tired.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I figured.”

Lara nods, staring down at her hands.

“I should’ve trusted you.”

Megan leans back slightly, eyes on the ceiling for a second.

“Yeah,” she says again.

No bitterness.

Just truth.

Lara bites her lip, tears threatening again.

“I’m sorry.”

Megan glances at her.

Really looks at her.

Then sighs, softer this time.

“Hey,” she says, nudging her knee lightly. “You’re gonna cry again.”

Lara lets out a shaky breath. “I know.”

“Try not to,” Megan says gently. “You’ve done enough of that for one night.”

Lara huffs a small, broken laugh.

“Can’t promise that.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

A pause.

Then Megan reaches over, adjusting the towel around Lara’s shoulders again without thinking.

“Still cold?”

“A little.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

Lara watches her for a second.

The way she moves.

The way she still cares.

Even now.

Even after everything.

And something in her chest twists all over again.

Not sharp this time.

Just… heavy.

“I missed you,” Lara says quietly.

Megan stills.

Just for a second.

Then she looks away.

“…Yeah,” she says. “I noticed.”

Not cold.

Not warm either.

Just honest.

And somehow—

That hurts more than anything else.

---

The silence stretches again, but it’s different now.

Not empty.

Just… fragile.

Like one wrong move and it all cracks open again.

Lara’s still staring at her hands, shoulders slightly hunched, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Like she doesn’t quite believe she’s allowed to be here.

Megan watches her for a second.

Then sighs, quiet but real.

“Come here,” she says.

Lara looks up, confused. “What?”

“Just—come here.”

There’s no edge to it. No hesitation.

Just something steady.

Lara doesn’t argue this time.

She shifts closer, slow, unsure—

And Megan closes the distance the rest of the way.

Wraps her arms around her like it’s instinct.

Like it never stopped being.

For a second, Lara goes completely still.

Like she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Then it hits her.

All of it.

The guilt. The exhaustion. The hurt. The relief.

Her hands clutch at the back of Megan’s sweatshirt, grip tightening as everything finally spills over.

She buries her face into Megan’s shoulder and breaks.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just quiet, shaky sobs that don’t seem to stop.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the fabric, voice muffled and wrecked. “I’m so sorry, I messed everything up—”

“Hey, hey,” Megan murmurs, holding her tighter, one hand coming up to the back of her head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Lara chokes. “I didn’t believe you, and I hurt you, and I just—I should’ve listened, I should’ve—”

“I know,” Megan says softly.

No denial.

No pretending it didn’t happen.

Just… acknowledgment.

And somehow that makes Lara cry harder.

“I feel so stupid,” she admits, voice cracking. “He lied to me and I just—I defended him. I defended him over you.”

Megan exhales slowly, resting her chin lightly against Lara’s head.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “You did.”

Another truth.

Another thing that stings.

But she doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t loosen her grip.

If anything, she holds Lara closer.

“It’s done now,” Megan adds after a moment, softer. “You can’t go back and fix it. You can just… deal with what’s in front of you.”

Lara nods weakly against her shoulder.

“I don’t even know how,” she admits.

“Yeah,” Megan says. “I figured.”

There’s a pause.

Lara’s breathing starts to even out a little, still shaky but not as broken as before.

Megan shifts slightly, rubbing slow circles against her back.

“Still cold?” she asks.

“A bit,” Lara mumbles.

“Of course you are,” Megan says under her breath.

She gently pulls back, just enough to look at her.

Her eyes flick over Lara’s face, still red, still damp, still tired.

“Stay there,” Megan says, already standing up.

“Where are you going?” Lara asks, voice small.

“Two seconds.”

Megan disappears into the other room.

Lara sits there, arms wrapped around herself now, suddenly aware of the space Megan left behind.

It feels colder instantly.

But only for a moment.

Because Megan’s back quickly, fiddling with the thermostat on the wall.

A soft click.

Then another.

“You still have that thing set way too low,” Megan mutters. “No wonder you’re freezing.”

Lara huffs faintly. “It’s not that low.”

“It is,” Megan says. “You’re just used to it.”

She waits a second, like she’s making sure it actually kicks in, then glances back at Lara.

“Better soon.”

Lara nods.

“Thanks.”

Megan shrugs it off, walking back over and dropping onto the couch beside her again.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

She pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over both of them.

“Here.”

Lara instinctively grips the edge of it, pulling it closer around her shoulders.

“God, you’re like an icicle,” Megan mutters, brushing her arm lightly.

“Not my fault it’s pouring outside.”

“You chose to walk in it.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

There’s no bite to it.

Just… quiet honesty again.

Lara exhales slowly, leaning back into the couch.

For a second, she hesitates.

Then—

She leans slightly into Megan.

Not fully.

Just enough to feel her there.

Megan doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t comment.

Just shifts a little so it’s easier.

Like it’s normal.

Like it used to be.

And that—

That almost makes Lara cry again.

“I don’t want to go home,” she says quietly.

Megan glances at her.

“Yeah?”

Lara shakes her head slightly. “I just… I can’t deal with everything right now. Not tonight.”

Megan studies her for a second.

Takes in the tired eyes.

The way she’s still holding onto the blanket like it’s the only thing grounding her.

Then she sighs.

“Stay.”

Lara blinks. “What?”

“Stay here,” Megan repeats. “For tonight.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

There’s no hesitation.

No conditions.

Just simple.

“Yes.”

Lara’s chest tightens again, but softer this time.

“Okay,” she says, almost a whisper.

Megan nods once, like it’s settled.

Then leans her head back against the couch, eyes flicking toward the ceiling.

“Guest room’s a mess,” she says after a second. “So you’re stuck with the couch or… my room.”

Lara huffs quietly. “Wow, great options.”

“Hey, you showed up unannounced,” Megan shoots back lightly.

“Fair.”

A small pause.

Then—

“I don’t mind the couch,” Lara says.

Megan glances at her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Megan nods.

“Alright.”

Another stretch of quiet settles in.

But it’s not as heavy anymore.

The rain’s still going outside, softer now, more like background noise than something overwhelming.

The heating starts to kick in properly, warmth slowly filling the room.

Lara lets out a slow breath, her body finally starting to relax for the first time all night.

“…Megan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Megan doesn’t answer right away.

Then she shrugs slightly.

“You needed somewhere to be.”

“It’s more than that.”

Megan’s jaw tightens just a little.

“I know.”

Lara watches her for a second.

Then, quietly—

“I missed this.”

Megan’s eyes flick toward her.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.”

And this time—

It doesn’t feel distant.

It just feels… real.

Lara shifts slightly under the blanket, her shoulder brushing Megan’s again.

She doesn’t move away.

Neither of them does.

And for the first time in a while—

Things don’t feel completely broken.

Not fixed.

Not even close.

But maybe—

Not beyond saving either.

---

The house gets quieter the later it gets.

Rain fades to a soft, steady tapping against the windows. The heating hums low in the background, filling the space with warmth that wasn’t there earlier. Lights are dimmed, everything slower, softer.

Megan disappears for a bit and comes back with a pillow and another blanket, tossing them onto the couch.

“Here,” she says. “Make it work.”

Lara gives a small nod. “Thanks.”

Megan lingers for half a second, like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Then she just turns and heads toward her room.

“Night, Lara.”

“…Night.”

And then she’s gone.

The door clicks shut.

And just like that—

Lara’s alone.

She stares at the couch for a second, then slowly settles down, pulling the blanket over herself, adjusting the pillow, shifting once, twice, trying to get comfortable.

It’s fine.

It should be fine.

She’s tired enough. Exhausted, actually. Emotionally wrecked, physically drained, eyes still burning from crying earlier.

She should pass out instantly.

But she doesn’t.

She lays there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain, feeling too aware of everything.

The couch is… fine.

Not terrible.

But not right.

Not familiar.

Not safe in the way she needs it to be tonight.

She turns onto her side.

Then onto her back.

Then the other side.

Pulls the blanket tighter.

Kicks it off slightly.

Pulls it back again.

Nothing works.

Her mind won’t shut up either.

It replays everything.

Orlando’s voice.

Megan’s voice.

The argument.

The slap.

The look on Megan’s face.

God.

Lara squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her face into the pillow like that’ll block it out.

It doesn’t.

She exhales shakily.

“Just sleep,” she mutters to herself.

Nothing.

Minutes pass.

Maybe longer.

Time feels weird when you’re stuck like this.

Eventually, she sits up, dragging a hand down her face.

“This is so dumb,” she whispers.

She knows what the problem is.

She just doesn’t want to admit it.

Because it sounds stupid.

But it’s true.

She’s always been like this.

Ever since she was little—falling asleep easier when someone was there. Even if they weren’t talking. Even if they weren’t touching.

Just… presence.

Breathing.

Knowing someone’s close.

It makes her feel grounded.

And right now?

She feels anything but grounded.

She glances toward the hallway.

Megan’s room.

The door’s closed.

Of course it is.

Lara bites her lip.

No.

She’s not doing that.

She’s already shown up unannounced, soaked, crying, dumped all her emotions onto Megan, and now she’s staying the night.

She doesn’t get to ask for more.

That’s too much.

Way too much.

She lies back down.

Tries again.

Forces her eyes shut.

Counts in her head.

Listens to the rain.

Focuses on her breathing.

Nothing.

Her chest still feels tight.

Her thoughts still loud.

Her body still restless.

After what feels like forever, she groans quietly and sits up again.

“Okay, this is actually annoying,” she mutters.

She looks at the hallway again.

Longer this time.

Her stomach twists.

Because part of her knows—

Megan wouldn’t say no.

Not tonight.

Not after everything.

But that doesn’t mean Lara should ask.

She drags her hands over her face, frustrated.

“Just go to sleep,” she whispers.

Still nothing.

Another ten minutes pass.

Maybe more.

She gives up.

Completely.

Throws the blanket off, swings her legs over the edge of the couch, sitting there in the dim light with her heart beating just a little too fast for no good reason.

“This is stupid,” she says again.

But she stands up anyway.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Like she might wake something she’s not supposed to.

The floor creaks slightly under her feet as she walks down the hallway.

Every step feels louder than it probably is.

Her hand hovers outside Megan’s door.

She hesitates.

This is a bad idea.

She should go back.

She should just deal with it.

Sleep on the couch like a normal person.

But—

She knocks.

Soft.

Barely there.

For a second, nothing happens.

Then—

A quiet, groggy voice from inside.

“…Yeah?”

Lara swallows.

“It’s me,” she says, just above a whisper.

There’s a pause.

Then the sound of movement.

The door opens a few seconds later.

Megan stands there, hair slightly messy, eyes heavy with sleep but alert enough to notice something’s off.

“Lara?” she says, frowning slightly. “You okay?”

Lara shifts awkwardly, arms folding loosely over herself.

“Yeah— I mean— yeah, I’m fine, I just…”

She trails off.

God, this is embarrassing.

Megan waits.

Patient.

“…I can’t sleep,” Lara finally admits.

Megan blinks once, then leans slightly against the doorframe.

“Yeah?” she says. “Couch that bad?”

“It’s not the couch,” Lara says quickly. “I just— I don’t know, I can’t switch my brain off.”

Megan studies her for a second.

Taking in the way she’s standing there.

Barefoot.

Nervous.

Tired.

“…You want me to sit with you or something?” Megan asks.

Lara hesitates.

Because that’s not really it.

But it’s close.

“I—” she starts, then stops.

Megan raises an eyebrow slightly. “What?”

Lara lets out a quiet breath, forcing herself to just say it.

“I sleep better when… someone’s there,” she admits, voice low. “Like—not even talking, just—there.”

Megan’s expression shifts.

Not judgmental.

Just… understanding.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Lara looks away immediately. “Yeah, it’s stupid, I know—”

“It’s not stupid,” Megan cuts in.

Lara glances back at her.

Megan shrugs slightly.

“People have their things.”

There’s a small pause.

Then—

“You can stay in here,” Megan says.

Just like that.

Simple.

No big deal made out of it.

Lara blinks. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Megan nods, stepping back to let her in. “I don’t mind.”

Lara hesitates for half a second.

Then steps inside.

Megan’s room feels… familiar.

Same as always.

A little messy, a little warm, a little too comforting for Lara’s current state.

Megan moves back toward the bed, pulling the covers back slightly.

“You can take that side,” she says, nodding toward it.

Lara lingers near the door for a second, suddenly unsure again.

“You don’t have to if it’s weird,” she says.

Megan glances at her.

“It’s not weird.”

Lara studies her face for any sign that it is.

There isn’t one.

Just quiet certainty.

“…Okay,” Lara says softly.

She walks over, slipping under the covers carefully, like she’s trying not to disturb anything.

Megan follows a second later, settling back into her side of the bed.

There’s space between them at first.

A safe distance.

Neither of them speaking.

Just the quiet hum of the room.

The rain outside.

Lara stares at the wall.

Her body still a little tense.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… aware.

Then—

Megan shifts slightly.

Not closer exactly.

But enough.

“Better?” she asks quietly.

Lara exhales slowly.

“Yeah,” she says. “A bit.”

Another pause.

Then Lara shifts too.

Just slightly.

Closing the gap a little more.

Not all the way.

Just enough that she doesn’t feel so alone in it.

Megan doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t comment.

Just stays there.

Steady.

Present.

And that—

That’s what Lara needed.

Her breathing starts to slow.

Her thoughts quiet down, just enough to stop racing.

Her body finally relaxes into the mattress.

“…Megan?” she murmurs, already half out of it.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Megan doesn’t answer right away.

Then, softly—

“Go to sleep, Lara.”

And this time—

She actually can.

---

Morning doesn’t come gently.

It leaks in slow.

Grey light through the curtains, rain still tapping against the glass like it never really stopped. The room feels warm, quiet, the kind of quiet that makes everything from last night feel… suspended. Not gone. Just waiting.

Lara wakes up before she opens her eyes.

It’s the warmth that does it.

Not the room.

Something closer.

For a second, she doesn’t move. Just lays there, half-asleep, trying to figure out why she feels… okay.

Then she realizes.

She’s not on her side of the bed anymore.

At some point during the night, she shifted. Or maybe drifted. Or maybe she just… needed something and her body found it before her brain could stop her.

She’s close.

Too close.

Her arm is loosely curled against Megan’s side, her forehead tucked near Megan’s shoulder, their legs barely tangled under the blanket.

And Megan—

Megan didn’t move away.

Lara’s breath catches slightly, eyes still closed.

Oh.

Oh.

For a split second, panic flickers.

Not sharp. Just enough to wake her up fully.

She should move.

She should definitely move.

But she doesn’t.

Because Megan’s still asleep.

Breathing slow. Even. Calm.

And Lara hasn’t felt this grounded in… weeks.

Maybe longer.

Her grip tightens slightly before she realizes it and forces herself to loosen it again.

Don’t be weird.

Don’t make it weird.

She opens her eyes slowly.

The room is soft with morning light, everything muted and quiet. Megan’s hair is a mess, falling across her face slightly, and Lara has to physically stop herself from reaching up and brushing it away.

This is already too much.

Last night was already too much.

Showing up crying, staying over, sleeping in her bed—

She shouldn’t push it further.

Carefully, slowly, she starts to pull back.

Just a little.

Trying not to wake her.

But the second she shifts—

Megan stirs.

A small movement. A quiet breath that changes.

Then her eyes open, heavy with sleep.

For a moment, she doesn’t register anything.

Then she does.

And there’s that split second.

That awareness.

The closeness.

Lara freezes.

“…Sorry,” she says immediately, voice low, a little rough from sleep. “I didn’t mean to— I move around a lot when I sleep.”

It’s not entirely a lie.

Megan blinks once, then twice, like she’s still waking up properly.

Then she exhales, shifting slightly onto her back.

“It’s fine,” she mumbles. “You didn’t elbow me or anything, so… could be worse.”

Lara huffs a quiet, nervous laugh.

“Yeah. That’s… good.”

There’s a pause.

Neither of them moves much after that.

The space between them is a little bigger now.

Not huge.

But noticeable.

And suddenly Lara misses it.

Which is stupid.

Really stupid.

She stares at the ceiling, heart doing something weird and uncomfortable.

Say something.

Don’t make it awkward.

“So… uh,” she starts, then winces internally because wow, great start.

Megan glances at her, still half-asleep. “So… uh,” she repeats.

Lara lets out a breath. “I don’t know. Morning?”

“Yeah. That’s usually how this works.”

Lara rolls her eyes slightly, relieved at the normal tone.

“Shut up.”

Megan smirks faintly, then rubs a hand over her face.

“You sleep okay?”

Lara hesitates.

Because the honest answer is yes.

Better than she has in a long time.

“…Yeah,” she says anyway. “Eventually.”

Megan nods.

“Good.”

Another pause.

The rain fills it.

Softer now than last night.

Lara turns her head slightly, looking at Megan properly for the first time this morning.

Her eyes flick to the faint bruise on her cheek.

Still there.

Still her fault.

Her chest tightens again.

“Megan…”

“Mm?”

“I really am sorry,” Lara says quietly.

Megan doesn’t look at her right away.

Just stares at the ceiling for a second.

Then sighs.

“I know,” she says.

Lara swallows.

“I don’t expect you to just… forgive me or anything.”

Megan finally turns her head slightly.

“I already said I was still a little mad.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I also let you sleep in my bed,” Megan adds, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “So I feel like that counts for something.”

Lara huffs a small laugh. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

“It does,” Megan says. “I don’t just let anyone invade my personal space like that.”

“Oh, I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

That almost feels normal.

Almost.

Lara’s smile fades a little as reality creeps back in.

“…I think I need to break up with him,” she says quietly.

The words hang there.

Megan doesn’t react immediately.

Just listens.

Then, after a second—

“Yeah,” she says.

Not pushy.

Not I told you so.

Just… yeah.

Lara nods slightly.

“I don’t even feel sad about it,” she admits. “I just feel… stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I ignored everything,” Lara says. “You told me, and I still—”

“Messed up,” Megan finishes for her. “Yeah.”

Lara winces slightly.

“Thanks.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Still.”

Megan shrugs.

“Doesn’t mean you’re stupid. Just means you didn’t want it to be true.”

Lara exhales slowly.

“Yeah.”

That’s exactly it.

Silence settles again, softer this time.

Less sharp.

Lara shifts slightly, sitting up a little, pulling the blanket with her.

“…Can I stay a bit longer?” she asks after a second. “Just— not go back yet.”

Megan glances at her.

Then nods.

“Yeah. You can stay.”

Relief hits instantly.

“Okay,” Lara says, softer.

She swings her legs off the bed, stretching slightly.

Megan watches her for a second.

Then—

“Hey,” she says.

Lara pauses. “Yeah?”

Megan hesitates.

Just a little.

Then shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“Next time,” she says, “maybe believe me the first time.”

There’s no bite to it.

But it lands.

Lara nods, serious.

“Yeah,” she says. “Next time, I will.”

Megan studies her face for a second longer.

Then nods once.

“Good.”

And just like that—

They’re not fixed.

Not even close.

But they’re talking.

They’re here.

And for now—

That’s enough to keep everything from falling apart again.