Archive of Our Own

Agott had never been one for sentiments.

Objects were objects. They were things meant to be used. They served their purpose, and once that purpose had been fulfilled, they can be discarded, replaced, and even forgotten. That was the only sensible way to live. The efficient way, which totally makes sense. At least, that was what she had always told herself.

So why was she holding on to these things, as if they could contain the memories that plague her mind every single day?

The evidence of her hypocrisy sat quietly within the drawers of her study. A glass ink bottle with a teeny crack near its base, a result of a certain former co-apprentice turned enemy knocking it down once. A fountain pen with a warped nib. A bundle of scrap quire pages tied together with a faded green ribbon. A collection of trivial stuff that should have long disappeared into the confines of the boxes underneath her desk, together with the things she had long forgotten. Or the waste bins, really, she shouldn’t have cared.

But she did. And because of this, they remained. Preserved, protected—treasured, even. She should be ashamed of herself. She wasn’t raised to be weak, but the certain thought of throwing them away makes her want to throw up. So, she keeps it. Not because of hope of her coming back, but because of self-preservation, is what she tells herself.

Agott stared at the open drawer from her desk. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the chambers, casting long bars of gold across the room. Dust can clearly be seen drifting through the air, undisturbed except by the turning of pages somewhere far below in the library halls. The bottle appeared exactly as it had years ago, when Coco returned it to her, apologizing sheepishly for knocking it down. Agott couldn’t have cared less, anyway. After all, it was a gift from Coco herself. She could have just gotten Agott a brand new one.

Coco had given her the ink bottle. She had shown up during their apprentice days with ink stains across her face and hands, complaining loudly about having accidentally purchased the wrong color. Agott opened her mouth to tell her that she can always return to Kalhn through the windowway to return it to Mr. Nolnoa or even Tartah, but before she could even respond, Coco had thrust the bottle into her hands and declared it a gift.

Then she smiled. That ridiculous smile, bright enough to rival the sunlight, spreading warmth into Agott’s cheeks. Agott certainly felt her ears getting hotter by the minute, and Coco was already laughing because of how red she is. Agott shouted at her to shut up, albeit the absence of the usual bite accompanying her words, making Coco laugh even harder.

Agott slammed the drawer shut, the sharp sound echoing around the room. Pathetic, she thought. She was too old for this types of memories. Years had passed, entire years ever since Coco had left her. She was the head librarian of the Tower of Tomes now, proving to her whole family that she was not a failure. Her days were spent cataloguing magical texts, preserving both old and new knowledge, and being a master to her two apprentices who possessed more enthusiasm than common sense. Had she been the person she was before, she would certainly refuse to teach this children—however, knowing the pain of being refused, she instead shouldered the burden of teaching them in hopes that they will turn out to be better witches than she.

She had responsibilities, status, respect. Everything she had wanted and hoped for as a child, she has now. And yet somehow, a smile from a decade ago still haunted her dreams. A certain greenish-blonde girl still plagued her mind.

Agott leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Perhaps it would have been easier if Coco had died. The thought startled her. Not because it was cruel, but because it was true. It was selfish of her to think of it, but it was her feelings gaining traction in the storms of her mind. Death was final. Death could be mourned. It allowed grief to settle, and it would allow Agott to properly grieve what could have been.

But Coco was alive. Painfully, frustratingly alive. Thriving among the Brimhats, the very organization Agott spent her whole life despising. Agott was taught from a very young age that Brimhats are the scum of society, that Brimhats are never to be trusted. Hence, Agott cannot be seen in public mourning her past connection with a certain former friend turned Brimhat.

Every report that crossed her desk only deepened that hatred. Illegal magic, forbidden human experimentations, interference with the lives of normal people (called Unknowings). The brimhats had stolen knowledge, endangered countless lives with forbidden magic, and threatened the very foundations of everything witches had struggled to build and maintain.

Agott hated them. She hated them with a passion that burned hotter than dragonfire from the creatures guarding the tower. Some days, she thought she hated them so much that she wanted to watch every last brimmed hat reduced to ash. However, this was for reasons that were far, far more selfish than she can ever admit to anyone, even herself.

She wanted to see the brimhats burn. Not because of their crimes or their ideologies, but because they had taken everything from her. They took Coco.

The realization sat heavy in her stomach. As embarrassing as it was, she can no longer deny it. There had always been a future in her mind, a future where she and Coco lived together, as professor—watchful eye. Just like Master Qifrey and Master Olruggio had been. A future she wanted was a quiet one, certainly not something she had consciously planned nor ever dared to speak aloud. She had wanted a life with Coco, a life away from war and all the politics that come with it. She just wanted to live with her.

It was a future where she and Coco continued living together, a future where they grew older side by side. A future where Coco still barged into her workspace unannounced, carrying some absurd magical idea she was excited to share with Agott. A future where Agott no longer had to pretend that her heart raced whenever golden eyes settled on her. A future where they might have eventually become—

Agott stopped the thought before it could fully form. There was no point in thinking about it, after all. There never had been. Coco had already chosen another path, a path where Agott can never follow her. A path where Coco branded herself as an enemy of the society Agott belonged to, despite Agott’s pleas.

She remembered the arguments, the shouting, the desperation clawing at her throat. She remembered demanding answers, explanations, anything that can ever justify Coco’s actions. Demanding that Coco come to her senses. And then she remembered Coco smiling through tears. It was not a happy smile per se, not the bright smile Agott had learned to love.

It was a sad one, as if it was a smile meant to serve as an apology for things neither of them could ever hope to change.

Coco left, Agott remained. And the silence that followed afterward had been unbearable. Brushbuddy sat on Agott’s shoulders, nuzzling her neck. It was as if the little critter felt Agott’s misery and was trying to comfort her, despite its inability to brush her tears away. The critter was sad, too, with its movements being slower than usual.

The cold air at the library that enveloped her suddenly seemed colder than usual, and the towering bookshelves she sees every day looked larger than ever. Agott’s world felt lonelier than usual, but she didn’t have time to lament this.

Agott exhaled slowly and reached for the scroll lying open on her desk. Work, she reminded herself. She should focus on her work. After all, that had always been the solution whenever her mind was eating itself up. From then until now, work always seemed to calm her agitation. Work did not break your heart, knowledge dares do not abandon you. Agott fixed her curls which had fallen on top of her eyes and started to read the report.

A knock interrupted her flow of work, as she heard three more taps against the door. Agott frowned. Who dares disturb the head librarian when evening is approaching? She thought.

“You may enter.”

The door opened, and a junior librarian stepped inside. He was fidgeting, as if he was nervous about having intruding Agott’s time.

”Lady Agott.” The librarian called her.

“What seems to be the problem?” Agott replied, without even looking at him.

The young witch swallowed. “A visitor has requested access to the restricted archives.”

Agott sighed. Another one, she thought. “Then direct them to the proper authorization channels. I’m certainly not the first on that list.”

“Madam, they already possess authorization.” That made her pause. Few people possessed authorization to the restricted archives. Who could it possibly be?

“Who is it?” Agott inquired, looking at him with eyebrows raised. The librarian hesitated, a mixture of confusion and discomfort evident on his face.

“She refused to provide a surname, madam.”

Agott frowned. “Then how am I supposed to identify her? Surely, no witch expects me to guess whoever they are.”

The young witch shifted awkwardly. “She only gave one name for identification, madam.”

Something cold settled in Agott’s stomach. “No.” she said firmly.

It cannot be.

The librarian blinked. “My lady?”

Agott stared at him with cold eyes. Slowly, carefully, she said, “Tell me the name.”

The young witch swallowed with nervousness. “She introduced herself as ‘Coco’, madam.”

The world suddenly stopped revolving. The sunlight, the room, the steady rhythm of her breathing. Everything suddenly became unbearable, as if her senses overloaded. For a moment, Agott simply sat there, unable to move even an inch of muscle. She was unable to think, unable to process the fact that after all these years—

Coco is here. A Brimmed hat is here, and my fellow librarians don’t know it.

Coco is here. Not in a report stating a witch with a black brim and gold ornaments, not in a rumor, not in her memories. Here, within the Tower of Tomes. The librarian was still speaking, saying something about security protocols and visitor records, but Agott heard none of it.

After all, the simple mention of the name was all it took for a pair of golden eyes and a smile capable of melting the coldest parts of her heart flood her mind.

It was the girl she had spent years trying—and failing—to forget.

Agott should have reported her immediately. That was the first coherent thought that crossed her mind, after its short-circuiting earlier. The second coherent thought she had was ‘I need to see her’. Not because she wanted to, and certainly not because of some pathetic, foolish part of her that had spent years imagining what Coco might look like now.

No. She needed answers, she needed explanations. And more importantly, she needed to know why none of the librarians stationed at the entrance had raised an alarm to the Knights Moralis. A Brimmed Hat witch walking openly into the Tower of Tomes should have resulted in chaos, with the pennants of the Knights Moralis immediately capturing Coco and erasing every known memory of witchcraft in her mind. They should have been summoned, and wards should have been activated.

Yet somehow, Coco had made it all the way to the halls without attracting attention to herself. Agott had her suspicions as to why Coco had managed to slip through all the defenses of the Tower.

Coco had always possessed a talent Agott can never claim for herself. People trusted her, even when they shouldn’t—especially when they shouldn’t.

”Bring them to the consultation chamber.” Agott commanded.

The junior librarian blinked in confusion. “My lady?”

“You heard me.”

“But the authorization channels, do they not need further verification—”

“I said,” Agott emphasizes her words with a tone an octave lower than her usual, “bring her to me.”

The young witch immediately lowered his head. “Yes, Lady Agott. I shall bring the guest to you.”

The door closed, and silence returned. Agott instantly regretted her decision. She should have refused; she should have called the Knights instead. She should have followed protocol and procedure. After all, weren’t these the one holding her life together?

Instead, she found herself standing before the chamber’s tall windows fifteen minutes later, staring down at the lake below. She was waiting, and the realization irritated her more than she cared to admit. She hated the fact that she was still waiting for the woman who had left her years ago to choose another path.

Then the door opened, Agott turned around, and she forgot how to breathe.

Coco stood in the doorway. She certainly looks older, was Agott’s first thought. Not physically older per se, as there were no obvious wrinkles or signs of age. But something about her carried a weight Agott had never seen in her before. Her shoulders slumped, there were faint dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was longer than ever before.

And then her eyes caught the clothes, making her stomach twist in knots. Long, smoke colored robes, with black turtleneck wrapping her neck, layered with a white cloak and a white, pointed cap with a gold ornament on top. Elegant, practical, and most of all, familiar. They were not identical, no, but the clothes were certainly close enough to remind Agott of another figure entirely.

Master Qifrey.

Memories slammed into her before she could stop them. The lessons in the atelier, the long evenings studying together, Master Qifrey’s patient guidance and small smiles, and the way Coco admired and trusted him as if he was her parent. Coco believed in him the way all of them had and seeing her wearing similar clothes made something hot and ugly rise inside her chest.

Years of grief, abandonment, and unanswered questions. All of these concentrated on a single, unbearable moment.

Coco smiled. “Hello, Agott.”

And suddenly, Agott was furious. “Don’t”. Coco’s smile faltered for a moment, before the sides of her cheeks rose up again.

“Don’t just stand there and greet me as though you disappeared for a weekend.”

The room fell silent. Coco remained still, unable to approach Agott who is burning with hostility.

Agott took a step forward, and asked, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

She received nothing. No answer, not even the slightest hitch of breath. No defense. And somehow, the silence only made Agott’s feelings worsen.

“You vanished.” Another step forward. “You joined the organization we spent years opposing.” Another. “You abandoned everyone.” Another step forward, possibly the last before Agott’s knees give up. “You abandoned me.”

Her voice cracked, showing vulnerability not many people had ever seen before. The crack was barely noticeable, but it happened, and Coco certainly caught it.

“And now you walk into the Tower expecting what? A warm welcome? A hug saying that I’m happy you’re here?”

Coco’s expression softened, and Agott hated it. She hated how gentle it looked, and the familiar warmth it brought upon her.

“I didn’t come for a welcome.”

“Then what did you come for?”

“I came because I wanted to see you.”

Agott laughed. It was a humorless sound, something she had perfected over the course of years spent conversing with hundreds of people she wasn’t interested in.

“Of course you did.”

“Agott, please—”

“No.” Agott glared at her. “You don’t get to say my name like that.” She snarled.

Coco fell silent, but the smile remained. However, something about it looked off, and Agott couldn’t explain why. The smile looked hollow, like a drawing that perfectly replicated the shape of a smile while missing its meaning.

“You left,” Agott said, quieter this time around. But the bite in her words never left, despite its quietness. “You left us.”

Coco lowered her gaze, unable to look at Agott now. And somehow, Agott hated that too. She wanted anger. She wanted an argument, so she has a reason to lash out and release all her pent-up anger ever since the girl’s departure from her life. She wanted to hear some kind of justification. Anything, really. But instead of answering her interrogation, Coco simply stood there and accepted every accusation Agott threw at her.

Every harsh word, every once ounce of resentment, she simply absorbed as though she believed she deserved it. And perhaps she did, but Agott still can’t help but feel guilty. Something felt wrong, and Agott found herself fully staring at the girl before her eyes. She stared at Coco herself, and not at the idea of Coco she had carried for years in secret. She looked at the woman standing before here, and suddenly, she noticed everything all at once.

Her smile never reaches her eyes anymore. Her eyes have dimmed, missing the spark of excitement it once had. Is it because of the brimmed caps? Her eyes are now tired. Has she not been sleeping adequately? Her posture changed too. My Coco always stood proudly in the face of adversary, occupying space with confidence and no arrogance. Now her shoulders slump slightly. Why? Does her neck hurt? Is she possibly sick? Does she have a tattoo on her chest that she’s now hiding? No, Coco wouldn’t do that. Would she?

Agott noticed all of these things. Of course she did. She also noticed, among other things, the way Coco’s fingers occasionally tightened around the strap of her satchel. Coco looked lonelier than ever, and Agott hated herself for noticing after all the years they spent away from each other.

Agott still noticed. She always would, because the truth had always been there.

She loved Coco. No, scratch that—she still LOVES Coco. She had loved her then, and she still loves her now despite the fact that Coco is now a branded criminal by the very society Agott swore to protect. That fact infuriated Agott more than anything else, but now she wasn’t sure where to direct all these feelings.

“Explain.” The word landed heavily between them. Coco blinked, and Agott’s jaw tightened. “Explain why.”

Silence.

“Explain why you left. Explain why you joined them. Explain why you never came back. Why?!” Agott shouted, her voice shaking as she grabbed Coco’s shoulders and stared at the latter angrily, with tears threatening to escape her eyes.

Coco’s smile finally disappeared, and for the first time since entering the room, Coco looked genuinely vulnerable. Not frightened, not defensive, and not playful. Just the tiredness and sadness emanating from her. A sadness crossed her face so quickly that Agott had almost missed it.

Almost.

“Agott,” Coco called her softly, carefully, as if she was afraid that Agott was going to turn her back on her and never look at her again. “I can explain.”

“Do it, then.”

“Not here,” Coco refused, with her eyes pleading. Agott immediately narrowed her eyes, and every defensive instinct of hers activated. She thumbed over the quire under her cloak, pen lingering over a defensive seal she had kept for this very moment.

Coco noticed this, and a faint smile returned. Smaller and more real, but no less sad. “You think I’m going to attack you?’

“You are a brimhat.” Agott said flatly, and Coco flinched. Agott felt her stomach churn. Coco then laughed softly and said, “I can never hurt you, my Agott.”

The certainty in Coco’s voice was absolute, so certain that it made Agott’s chest ache, especially with the mention of that nickname.

“How can I trust you?”

For a moment, Coco simply looked at her. Upon noticing this, Agott felt exposed. She felt the same feeling return, the same way she had always felt under Coco’s golden eyes. Coco spoke quietly, with a sadness Agott didn’t even know was possible before.

“Because I hurt you more than any forbidden spell ever could the moment I left you.”

The words struck harder than any attack, making Agott freeze. Neither of them spoke for a long time, possibly the longest time ever since Coco entered the room. Years of grief lingered in the silence that settled, with unresolved issues waiting for some kind of closure. Coco looked away first, speaking so quietly that Agott had to lean a little to hear what she’s saying.

“There are things I need to tell you. Things I could not explain back then,” Coco’s voice hesitated, her voice almost a whisper. She looked back up at Aott, and for the briefest moment, Agott caught a glimpse of the Coco she remembered. The stubborn girl who chased impossible dreams, the girl who had changed her beliefs and the way she saw life.

“I’d rather tell you somewhere private.”

Agott stared at her apprehensively. She stared at the woman she spent years mourning despite the fact that she was still alive.

“Please.”

One simple word was all it took for Agott’s walls to come crumbling down. Against every ounce of reason she possessed, Agott found herself nodding. Because if there was one thing she had learned about her and Coco’s relationship over the years, it was that no matter how much she wished otherwise, she would always follow what Coco asks her to do.

Always, infallibly. After all, her love for Coco had never vanished. She would always love Coco, no matter how much the latter had changed.

The decision was absurd, and Agott knew it from the moment she made it. The other librarians knew it too, and even Coco seemed surprised by it. Yet less than half an hour later, Agott found herself standing gathering the materials necessary for a day’s absence while whispers spread through the surrounding galleries. She could feel the stares, the curiosity. Several librarians glanced at Coco inquisitively and then immediately looked away when Agott’s gaze swept over them.

She could see it in their faces as she walked through the halls of the Tower with Coco trailing a respectful distance behind her. Questions followed them everywhere. The library had always been a place where information travelled faster than light. Rumors were simply another form of knowledge, no matter how incredible they may be, and knowledge spread.

Especially when it involved Agott and some unknown witch who has access to some of the most private archives known to witchkind. Agott heard her name murmured more than once, and she heard questions deliberately left unfinished. She ignored all of it.

If they wish to speculate, she thought, they can do so after I return.

For now, she only approached the second head librarian and handed over her responsibilities for a day.

”I will take a break tomorrow morning,” The lady archivist behind the desk looked at her incredulously. “Lady Agott?”

The words felt foreign coming from her own mouth. She had never used that reason before, even if they were allowed to. There had never been anything else important enough to interfere with her usual routine of work. Agott never took breaks. She worked through illnesses, through holidays, through festivals she wasn’t required to attend to. She had once spend three consecutive days in the archives after discovering inconsistencies in a manuscript dating back two centuries regarding the pact.

Personal leave for Agott was practically unheard of.

Not until now, no.

“I have personal matters to attend to. Do not wait for me, and do not let anybody else access the forbidden archives without my approval. The restoration project in the East Wing should continue as scheduled. The acquisition of records from Ezrest’s orders require cross-referencing before filling.”

The archivist glanced between Agott and Coco, the latter who is playing with her cap’s golden pompom ornament. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she wrote Agott’s orders, and Agott could practically see the conclusions forming in her head. Thankfully, the woman possessed enough self-preservation to keep the thoughts to herself.

“Understood, my lady.”

Agott turned away, and the whispers intensified. However, she could not find it in herself to care, not with Coco following silently behind her as they descended deeper into the library. Agott could feel their curiosity following her all the way through the halls, but Coco remained silent. For once, Coco’s silence felt wrong. Years ago, Coco would have snickered and whispered jokes about the scandal they were causing. She would have laughed and teased Agott about becoming the subject of gossip, much to the latter’s disdain.

Now, Coco simply walked beside her quietly and carefully. It was as if Coco was afraid of taking up too much space, and Agott found herself glancing at Coco every now and then despite her best efforts not to. Every time she did, she noticed another unfamiliar detail.

A faint scar near her wrist. A scratch under her ear. The way Coco occasionally pressed her hand against her ribs and winced slightly in pain when she thought no one was looking. The way exhaustion seemed woven into her very posture.

It bothered Agott to no end. Eventually, they reached one of the oldest sections of the Tower. The corridors grew narrower, with a different set of tiles compared to the section they left. Few people came here naymore, which was precisely why the hidden windowway remained undiscovered by most. Coco stopped before a seemingly ordinary white curtain.

Agott crossed her arms. “This better be worth the secrecy.”

A small smile appeared on Coco’s face. A real, faint smile this time. Gone almost immediately, but for a moment, Agott felt her Coco seep through the Coco standing before her now.

“I hope so. You’ll be the judge of that, my lady.”

It was no mistake that Coco was trying to tease her by copying how the other librarians addressed Agott, but no amount of teasing can mask the sound of uncertainty in Coco’s words. The realization unsettled her. Coco uncapped her pen and ink bottle and slowly drew an unfamiliar seal resembling that of a windowway she knew.

The cloth rippled, and an image formed. Rolling green hills, wildflowes dancing in the wind, and an endless, blue sky. Agott stared, and something tightened painfully in her chest. The scenery reminded her of another place, of another home she almost forgot. 

Master Qifrey’s atelier.

Coco’s own atelier was not identical at all, but was undeniably inspired by their former master’s quarters. It emanated the same sense of warmth, the same peaceful isolation, and it carried with it an invitation to stay for a while. For a moment, neither of the two girls moved. And then, Coco stepped through. Agott followed. The transition lasted only seconds, and fresh air greeted her immediately. The scent of flowers, grass, and earth occupied her sense of smell. The countryside stretched in every direction.

It was beautiful.

Agott’s eyes trailed to where Coco stopped, and she saw a modest door. The building wasn’t large, as it didn’t need to be. Stone walls rose beneath a sloping roof covered in flowering vines. Several large windows reflected the sunlight. A garden spread around the structure, overflowing with medicinal herbs, magical plants, and flowers Agott recognized from their apprentice days.

Some flowers had been Master Qifrey’s favorites, and others had belonged to Coco. A sharp ache spread fast through Agott’s chest. The similarities were impossible to ignore, for this was not an imitation at all. This was not someone trying to recreate the past—rather, it looked like the home Coco would have built had she never left.

That realization hurt more than it should have.

Because Agott could see it. Agott could imagine the years that never happened, with Coco tending the garden, Richeh and Euini visiting during holidays, Tetia bringing them food and period clothing every festival, and Agott having her own room at the atelier’s watchful eye. The vision vanished immediately, replaced by a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Come in,” Coco opened the door.

The interior made Agott feel even worse. Books lined the walls, sketches of unfinished seals covered several tables, grimoires lay scattered across the whole living room, and a guidance orb sat over an end table. The place looked lived in and lonely at the same time, and Agott couldn’t fathom how both could be true simultaneously. The place was occupied, and yet it carried an emptiness that can only be felt in a house that was waiting for someone for it to be called “home”.

The realization made the bitter feeling from Agott’s mouth settle in her stomach. Coco set her satchel down, and then turned toward Agott. The uncertainty returned immediately, and Agott noticed. Agott always noticed Coco, and perhaps, that proved to be her greatest weakness. Because no matter how much time has passed, she could still read Coco better than anyone else.

The room grew impossibly quiet, and the distance between them suddenly felt much smaller. Years of love that had nowhere to go seemed to settle into the space separating them. Agott folded her arms tightly across her chest almost defensively, and Agott cared not what it looked like to Coco for she needed something solid to hold onto.

Her voice emerged sharper than she intended. “Start from the beginning.”

Coco froze. “Agott, I—”

“The. Beginning” Years of hurt sharpened her already steely words, and she stepped forward. Just once, enough to make her point. “I don’t want half-truths, I don’t want excuses. I do not want the version you think would hurt less,”

Coco’s expression faltered, but Agott continued anyway. She spent too many nights wondering, too many years imagining, and too many years mourning someone who was unreachable but still alive.

“I want everything. Tell me why you left.” Silence greeted her inquiries. The wind outside burned against the windows, and her throat tightened painfully in anticipation of the hurtful words to come. Inside the atelier, Agott’s attention was fully on Coco.

Coco was alive but exhausted, and yet still somehow beautiful enough to ruin Agott’s heart. She hated it. She hated how her heart still betrayed her, how every part of her wanted to cross the distance between them and hold her, hated how another part of her wanted to scream until her voice gave out. And most of all, Agott hated how both feelings existed at the same time, making her head hurt.

Coco slowly lowered herself into a chair, and for a moment, simply stared on the floor. When she looked up, her golden eyes met Agott’s royal purple eyes. The light inside Coco’s eyes seemed dimmer than Agott saw earlier, and beneath the exhaustion, she realized something else.

Coco wasn’t afraid of being reported or punished.

Coco was afraid of losing her.

And suddenly, Agott understood. Whatever story Coco was about to tell her—neither of them would leave this room unchanged.

For a long while, Coco said nothing. Nothing, not even the apology Agott wasn’t sure she was looking for. And the silence that settled over the atelier did not feel empty. It felt crowded with years that neither of them could ever hope to reclaim, crowded with questions Agott has carried for so long that she had already forgotten what it felt like to not have them.

Outside, the countryside remained stubbornly peaceful, in contrast to the heavy atmosphere lingering between the two of them. The evening breeze stirred the flowers surrounding the building, and somewhere beyond the hills, quadryphons called to one another as they returned to their nests. The sounds should have been comforting—but instead, Agott found them unbearable.

How could the world continue so normally when hers felt like as if it had tilted off its axis and spun out of orbit?

She remained standing while Coco remained seated, with Agott making sure the imbalance was intentional. For all it was worth, Agott could have taken the chair opposite her. There were several seats available—yet, some childish, wounded part of her refused to make herself comfortable. She refused to show that she still trusts Coco with her whole heart, despite the years.

Coco left. That fact will remain unchanged no matter what explanation followed. Years had passed since then, years in which Agott had forced herself to build a life she didn’t want without her. They are complete years in which she had convinced herself that the initially sharp, now dulled ache in her chest would eventually disappear. It never disappeared. Perhaps it was Agott’s fault, too. She could have moved on, forgotten Coco, and lived a whole new life. But somehow, Agott still chose the pain. She still chose to live life with the pain Coco had left, because it was all that reminded her that Coco existed in her life once, that she wasn’t just some figure of imagination Agott’s mind had conjured.

No matter how painful it felt, she still chose Coco.

Coco stared down at her folded hands, and Agott noticed the faint scars more clearly crossing her knuckles. New scars that had not existed when they were still apprentices, when they were still together. There were so many things about her, and Agott hated every one of them. Not because the scars were ugly, hell no. There was nothing in the world that can make Coco ugly in her eyes.

She hated it because with every difference Agott noticed, it was a reminder of a time of suffering that Agott had not been there to witness. With every scar, there is a story she had not yet heard. Every change in Coco’s body was proof of the years stolen from them, and she hated it. She hated being reminded that she wasn’t around Coco for half of their entire lives.

Eventually, Coco drew in a slow breath.

“When I left,” she admitted quietly, “it wasn’t my choice.”

Agott’s expression remained carefully neutral. After all, she was assessing Coco’s explanation. Inside, however, something ugly formed. She had imagined this conversation more times than she would ever admit. In some versions of her imagination, Coco apologized. In others, she justified herself. Occasionally, Agott imagined herself slamming the door in Coco’s face before she could ever speak at all. Never—not once—had she imagined that Coco would ever say those words.

It wasn’t my choice.

The sentence weighed on Agott. Coco looked up, and for the second time, Agott saw a streak of genuine fear flash over Coco’s golden eyes. This, she believes, stemmed not from the fear of being reported, but fear of not being believed. Fear of not being trusted.

“The night I disappeared,” Coco continued, “I wanted to come back.”

A bitter smile touched her lips, as if remembering a distasteful memory she would rather shove down the confines of her mind. “I know how that sounds.”

“it sounds convenient.” The response escaped Agott’s lips before she could even think about it.

Immediately, guilt flickered across Coco’s face. Not because of the accusation itself, but because she believed she deserved it.

I left her. It would be ridiculous if she wasn’t angry at me.

“I know,” Coco admitted softly. The absence of defensiveness irritated Agott more than anger would have. She wanted Coco to argue with her, wanted her to push back. Agott would have preferred a loud, ugly argument than this soft nonsense she was having now. Because having an argument with Coco was easier. Selfishly, she admits to herself, she wanted some outlet for all the resentment she had spent years carrying. But instead, Coco accepted every sharp edge Agott offered her as though she had already rehearsed receiving them.

“The Brimmed Hats found me long before I joined them,” Coco says quietly. “They knew about my mother, and they knew about my search for a cure. They also knew how desperate I was,” Agott could see tears brimming in her eyes. Something about Coco’s tone caused Agott’s attention to sharpen.

“But you already knew that,” Coco laughed quietly while wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, though there was no humor in the sound. “Looking back, I think they knew me better than I ever knew myself.”

Agott’s stomach flipped. The words sounded dangerously close to manipulation, but not the crude sort described in their history books. This manipulation sounded far, far worse, as it was the kind that began with understanding and empathy. This was the kind of manipulation that learned every weakness before exploiting it.

Coco’s gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes unfocused as she followed the memories only she could see. “The first threat wasn’t directed at me,” she explained, and Agott immediately felt her pulse quicken.

“It was directed at you.”

With that revelation, Agott suddenly felt that the room became smaller. Coco’s voice lowered.

“They told me that if I refused them, they would erase every memory you had of me. Of magic. Of master Qifrey, Tetia, and Richeh. They would leave you as an unknowing.”

For a moment, Agott genuinely thought she had misheard. Of all the explanations she had prepared herself for, that had never been one of them, thus, her mind instantly rejected it.

What the hell is she talking about?

Memory alteration was among the most vile forms of magic that should have been forbidden. Agott had studied records of former witches who underwent such spells, and she always thought that the experience would be worse than physical injury. It would be like someone stripped your identity, as memories are the foundation upon which a person understood themselves. Master Qifrey was the prime example of what would happen to someone who lost their memories, though Qifrey was lucky enough that a wise one took pity on him. The others were not so much.

To forget something is one thing. To have memories deliberately removed as a threat was another entirely. All of a sudden, the implications of the confession arrived all at once. Every lesson, every argument she and Coco had, and every moment that she and her former co-apprentices shared beneath the atelier’s roof. But Coco’s next words snapped her back to reality.

“They didn’t threaten to kill you, and I don’t know if I should be grateful for that,” Coco continued quietly. “They knew that wouldn’t be enough.”

No matter how horrifying it is, Agott understood the reasons behind it. Death was finite, as it ended things. What the brimmed hats used as leverage was something crueler. It was living in a world in which Agott would continue existing without ever knowing what she had lost, and the realization made her feel ill.

The thought lodged itself somewhere deep inside Agott’s chest. For years, her anger had possessed a terrible simplicity. It had certainly hurt, yes. There had been nights when she could barely sleep because every memory of Coco felt like pressing against a bruise that wouldn’t vanish. There had been mornings when she woke up from beautiful dreams only to remember that the girl she longed for was gone.

The narrative was cruel but understandable. It allowed Agott to build her life again around the wound, given shape to her grief. Now, with only a handful of sentences, Coco had thrown that simple certainty into something else.

The sounds of the countryside fading into the night seemed muffled, as though she was hearing them through water. She took an unconscious step backwards, trying to put distance between herself and Coco. However, her heel struck a pen left open in the floor, making her lose balance. It was minor, a little more than a stumble really, but Agott had always possessed excellent control over her body. The unexpected misstep only heightened her frustratioin, but before she could recover, a familiar hand closed gently around her wrist, and another settled on her shoulder.

The contact lasted less than a second before Agott immediately pulled away. The movement was done on instinct, driven by years of unresolved hurt. The moment she stepped back, Coco released her without resistance and retreated as well.

The speed with which she withdrew was almost painful to witness. It was the reaction of someone who had already prepared to be rejected.

“I’m sorry,” Coco apologized quietly, while Agott looked away. The apology irritated her, though not for the reason it should have. Coco was apologizing for catching her before she fell, as though even the smallest gesture of care required her permission now. And perhaps, it did.

Agott folded her arms tightly across her chest, more to steady herself than for any other reason. Her thoughts refused to settle, and every conclusion she reached seemed to unravel the moment another possibility presented itself.

Across the room, Coco lowered herself back into her chair. The movement carried a cautious air, as if Coco feared any sudden action might shatter the fragile willingness Agott still possessed to listen.

“There’s more,” Coco muttered eventually.

Of course there was.

Agott released a tired breath. The threat against her memories had already been enough to overturn years of certainty. The idea that it had only been the beginning filled her with a growing sense of dread.

Coco’s gaze remained fixed on her hands.

“The memory threat came first,” she said. “When they realized it wasn’t enough to guarantee my full cooperation, they started looking for other ways to manipulate me.”

Agott felt her stomach tighten, as if she already knew where this was going. Well, anyone who knew Coco well enough can guess where this was going.

“They used my mother.”

The words emerged softly, but they carried more weight than anything Coco had said so far.

For years, Coco’s mother had been the center of her world. Agott remembered countless evenings in the atelier spent listening to Coco sob about her. She remembered the determination that had driven every late-night study session and every impossible challenge. She remembered the time Coco scared her out of her wits when the latter left without leaving any possible clue as to where she might have been, only to find out that Coco visited her mother. She remembered Coco’s face would brighten up every time she discovered a new spell that might help.

Helping her mother had never been simply a goal. It was the reason why Coco became a witch, the axis around which Coco’s entire life revolved. The brimmed hats exploited the weakness, the main reason why Coco’s entire life still revolved.

“They knew exactly what to say,” she whispered. “At first, they made it sound as though they wanted to help. They promised resources, knowledge, access to things the rest of the magical world would never allow me to use.”

A bitter smile crossed her face.

“It all sounds so obvious now. Looking back, I should have recognized it for what it was—lies. All lies. But they always framed everything as a choice. They never demanded anything, at least immediately. They simply kept reminding me of how little progress I was making on my own as a pointed hat.”

Agott listened in silence, but she could almost picture it. A promise here, a little suggestion there, a carefully planted seed of doubt in the mind. The most dangerous manipulation comes not from force alone, but from convincing someone that they had chosen their own chains. Their own self imposed limitations.

Coco’s expression darkened. “When the promises stopped working, they moved on to threats.”

With that single line, the room seemed to grow colder.

“They started with Tetia.”

At the mention of the name, memories resurfaced immediately. Tetia’s endless energy. Her high-pitched voice. Her infectious laughter. And even the way she could transform the worst day into something manageable.

Coco swallowed.

“They showed me that they followed her. They showed me reports proving that they had been watching her secretly help unknowings, something that the witch society frowns upon.”

Agott felt a surge of anger so sharp and sudden that it almost made her dizzy.

“After Tetia, they moved on to Richeh and Eunie. They threatened to kill them both, and then destroy their shop. Reduce it to the ground. I could barely stomach it.”

Her voice shook slightly before saying something that would hurt both of them.

“And then, Master Qifrey.”

Agott closed her eyes. The image of her former professor rose immediately in her mind. Patient, kind, and supportive Master Qifrey, who had acted more as a parent than a teacher for them all. The man who had given all of them a home when they needed one.

The thought of someone using him as leverage felt almost sacrilegious.

“They knew he was my family. That you were my family. They used it to their advantage, as leverage, because they knew I would sacrifice myself rather than lose you all. They knew how much you meant to me.”

Coco’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

“And what of Master Olruggio?” Agott asked quietly.

Coco laughed, but it was almost like a sob.

“They knew I would believe that threat most of all.”

Agott blinked in confusion. “What?”

A faint smile touched Coco’s lips before speaking.

“Because Master Olruggio would have seen them coming, despite his constant work.”

For a brief moment, Agott almost smiled too. It sounded exactly like the thing Master Olruggio would have done. He had always been watching and protecting them, serving as the steady guardian standing behind the rest of them. He was the atelier’s watchful eye, after all. He was the one who worried enough for everyone, including Master Qifrey.

Especially Master Qifrey, whispered Agott’s mind.

“They promised they’d kill him first.”

The room fell silent, No one dared to speak nor move, and Agott could barely breathe. She finally understood the full weight of what was happening. At least, she thinks she understands. She was aware that she can never understand fully, and perhaps she never would. But at least, she understood enough to see the impossible position Coco had been trapped within.

Every path led to loss, and every choice of hers carried consequences the normal witch wouldn’t have been able to handle. If she stayed, she would put the people she loved at risk. Leave, and she would still lose them anyway. The realization pained Agott, because while it didn’t excuse everything, Agott found herself asking a question she had never considered before.

How did Coco survive it all?

But when she looked across the table at Coco, she realized she wasn’t entirely sure if Coco survived.

For the longest time since setting foot in Coco’s atelier, Agott could not bring herself to move. She remained standing where she was, watching Coco sit across from her with her shoulders drawn inward and her gaze fixed somewhere near the floorboards. The confession had ended with the story told, and yet, neither of them seemed capable of moving beyond it.

Agott had imagined this moment for years. But never had she imagined Coco looking like this. The woman before her looked like someone who had spent years carrying burdens that should have crushed her. Agott hated the realization, because it made the anger difficult to carry. She was ridden by guilt for staying so angry at someone who had carried the world all by herself.

Of course, she was still angry and hurt. She grieved years neither of them would ever recover. But anger became strangely complicated when confronted with suffering, and Coco was suffering. There was no denying it now.

The signs were everywhere, and Agott hated the fact that she had already noticed it long before the confession took place. The forced smiles, the dimness in her eyes, and heck, even the way she instinctively prepared for rejection and the way the apologized for things that did not require an apology. It was glaringly obvious that Agott cannot help but want to comfort the woman before her eyes.

Agott found herself wondering when it had started.

When did Coco become so convinced that she needed to endure everything by herself?

And Agott realized that maybe, it was the day when Coco had left. The sharp ache from her chest spread throughout her entire body, because Agott realized something she had not even considered before.

While she had spent years mourning Coco’s absence, Coco had spent the same years enduring that absence completely alone.

Was it her own selfishness that let her wallow in her anger and despair without fully thinking of what Coco could have felt all those years?

The realization devastated Agott.

Slowly, she saw Coco raise her hand and press it against her eyes. The gesture was small, insignificant at most, yet it revealed more than any confession had.

Coco was trying hard not to cry.

She was trying, and now, she’s failing. Agott watched her shoulders tremble, heard her breathing become uneven, and she witnessed years of carefully maintained composure beginning to break. It broke something inside Agott, and that feeling was enough to feel that remaining distant from Coco was impossible.

She decided that continuing to punish Coco seemed less important than preventing her from falling apart immediately, and without fully thinking of it, Agott crossed the room.

Coco did not look up immediately. Perhaps, she assumed Agott was leaving and that the conversation was over. After all, Coco was the first one who left. It would make sense that Agott would do the same and retaliate now, wouldn’t it?

But whatever she expected, it clearly was not this at all. Because when Agott finally knelt beside her chair, Coco stared at her as though she could not fully comprehend what she was seeing.

Agott reached out, but hesitated. The distance between her hand and Coco’s face could not have been more than a few inches, and yet, it felt as if whole worlds separated them from each other.

Then, before she could lose whatever courage she had left, Agott closed the distance. Her fingers brushed against Coco’s scarred cheek, a memory of the first silver-eve they had together. The contact was barely there, yet Coco reacted as though she had been struck. This reaction comes not from a place of pain, but of disbelief.

Agott could see it happening in real time. The moment Coco’s hope collided with fear, and the exact moment when Coco wanted to lean into the touch but did not believe she had the right to do so. And somehow, that hurt more than anything else she had heard today.

Coco had always been generous with affection, trust, and most of all, love. Even if Agott had treated her unfairly during their first encounters as apprentices, Coco had never been one to shirk away from the love she received and gave to others. Seeing her hesitate with a simple act of love felt profoundly wrong to Agott.

So Agott left her hand where it was and waited. For several seconds, neither of them moved, and the atelier seemed to hold its breath alongside them.

Outside, the moon had begun its slow ascent towards the starry sky, spilling cold blue light through the windows. The moon’s glow stretched across the wooden floorboards and climbed the walls lined with books and sketches. Under different circumstances, it would have been beautiful. But now, it only illuminated two sad witches waiting for each other to cross the line barely drawn.

Agott could feel tears start to prick her eyes again. She mourned every missed birthday, every letter that never arrived, every late-night conversation they could have had but didn’t. The weight of it all seemed to want to crush her, and yet as she looked at Coco, she found herself thinking less about the years she had lost and more about what those years had done to the woman she loved.

Coco had always been expressive.

As apprentices, she had worn every emotion out in the open all the time. Excitement would light up her entire face whenever she encountered new magic. Frustration would send her pacing across the study room while she muttered all to herself. Joy would spill out of her so naturally that even Agott—who had spent most of her childhood guarding her feelings behind tall walls—had found herself drawn toward it.

The Coco sitting before her now still smiled and laughed, but it was nothing like before. Now, Agott could see the enormous effort behind it. The smiles arrived a fraction too late, the laughter never lingered for long, and the warmth was carefully measured, like Coco had spent years teaching herself exactly how much she wanted to reveal to others.

It broke Agott’s heart. It was infuriating to see, because she suddenly realized that there had never been anyone there to tell Coco she needed not to carry everything alone.

Master Qifrey would have, and Master Olruggio certainly would have, though he would have disguised it with exasperated breaths and thoughtful contraptions instead of words and physical intimacy.

Tetia would have wrapped her in a hug before she could protest, and Richeh would have sat beside her silently until she finally spoke. But then again, none of them had been there.

And neither had Agott.

That thought just fueled the hurt spreading down to her toes, while Coco’s eyes remained fixed on her face. She still looked confused—no, scratch that—she looked uncertain and frightened. Frightened that Agott would change her mind at any moment.

“Coco,” her voice, intended to be soft in the first place, emerged softer than intended. The simple sound of her name seemed enough to make Coco’s composure break further.

Agott watched her swallow an attempt to say something and instead lower her gaze, and the movement looked strangely familiar. It reminded Agott of the apprentice who used to lower her head whenever she believed she had disappointed someone.

Some things never changed, after all.

Back then, Agott had found it irritating. Now, it simply made her sad.

“You spent all those years believing this was your fault.” It wasn’t a question, and she saw Coco’s shoulders stiffen immediately. Agott felt her stomach sink.

Of course, Coco had convinced herself that everything rested on her shoulders. She was exactly the type of idiot who would do so. She had always taken responsibility for things no single person should have been responsible for.

The difference was that now there had been no one around to challenge her, no one around to remind her that she was only human.

Coco laughed weakly.

“I mean…” She stopped, and tried again. “I left.”

The words emerged as a whisper.

Agott frowned because the response irritated her immediately. It was the kind of logic people used when they wanted to punish themselves.

“You chose under threat.”

Coco looked away.

“They still gave me a choice.”

That statement made the frustration building inside Agott curl into a ball.

“No.” The word came out firmer than intended, and Coco blinked.

Agott rarely interrupted people, and the fact that she had done so now clearly surprised Coco.

“No, Coco. Being forced to choose which people you love get hurt is not a choice at all. Threatening your moth isn’t a choice, threatening Tetia and Richeh isn’t a choice, threatening Master Qifrey and Olruggio is NOT a choice.” Agott’s voice, as sharp as ever, struck Coco.

For years, Agott looked at the situation from her own perspective. Now, she was seeing it through Coco’s eyes, and the view is devastating. Even devastating isn’t enough to describe the situation Coco had endured.

“You were trapped,” the words emerged quietly. Coco’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and she shook her head strongly.

“If I had been stronger—”

Agott almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Hearing Coco describe herself as weak after everything she endured nearly stole her breath.

Slowly, Agott moved closer and sat beside Coco. The distance between them disappeared—not completely—but still, it was a beginning.

“Coco,” the name came out of her mouth gently, and she held Coco’s face. She waited until those pretty golden eyes met hers and then spoke with absolute certainty.

“You survived.” The tears began falling immediately, and Agott continued nonetheless, wiping Coco’s tears. “You survived years of manipulation, of people trying to use you.”

Coco lowered her head, and a sob escaped before she could stop it. Agott felt something inside her break completely, because now she understood. The confession had never been about seeking absolution, never about proving innocence. Coco genuinely believed she deserved condemnation. She had walked into the Tower of Tomes expecting judgment, anger, and rejection. And knowing Coco, Agott was sure that the former would have accepted all of it without so much as a fight.

The thought made Agott feel sick. Without thinking about it anymore, she reached for Coco, and this time with no hesitation. Her arms wrapped around Coco’s shoulders, and Coco froze. Agott could feel the stunned disbelief running through her body.

Then, the resistance vanished. Coco folded into her arms as though she no longer possessed the right to remain upright. The first sob shook her entire frame. The second was worse. By the third one, Coco was crying openly, contrary to the quiet tears she had allowed herself earlier.

This was the grief she had held secret for far too long, the kind that had been denied expression. Agott tightened her hold. One hand tangled itself into Coco’s hair, and the other settled against her back. She remembered doing this once before. Coco had failed a spell repeatedly and spent an entire evening convinced she would never make it. Eventually, she had broken down crying from frustration.

Back then, Agott had awkwardly comforted her with words, and spent the next hours showing Coco random owlcat light spells she had kept in case she needed cheering up.

Now, there was no pretending.

“It’s alright.” The words emerged not as an assurance that everything was alright, but that Coco was safe.

“You don’t have to carry it anymore.” Coco’s fingers tightened against her clothes desperately, afraid that Agott might disappear.

There had been countless nights over the years when she would have given anything to hold Coco again, countless moments when she found herself reaching toward memories because they were all she had left.

And now, Coco is here. Real, warm, and very, very much alive. Agott lowered her cheek on top of Coco’s head.

For a long while, Agott simply held her. The sobs did not stop immediately, and if anything, they seemed to grow worse. Coco trembled against her, and every so often, another apology would emerge between uneven breaths.

A quiet, broken “I’m sorry.”

At first, Agott allowed it. She understood that guilt was barely logical, after all. Eventually though, Coco’s apologies became unbearable.

“Coco, No. You’ve spent years carrying this. You don’t need to carry it alone anymore.” The silence that followed Agott’s assurance felt fragile and sacred. And then, Coco chuckled quietly.

“You make it sound so easy.”

Agott felt a sad smile touch her lips. “It isn’t.”

There was no point in lying. Nothing about this was easy. Not healing, not rebuilding what was broken, not patching up the wounds that still bled. Yet somehow, as she held Coco, those things felt more insurmountable than they had only hours ago. Now, Agott knows something she hadn’t before.

The person who had hurt her was also hurt. And while it did not excuse everything, it changed her perspective more than any explanation ever could.

Agott could still feel the girl she loves. In the way Coco tilts her head, the way her eyes soften when she looks at Agott, the stubborn determination that still refused to die. She felt a sharp stab of guilt, because while Coco had been enduring years of hardship alone, she had hated her.

She hated Coco.

Or at least, she tried to.

Because anger was always easier than grief. Staying mad was easier than admitting to herself that she missed Coco, that she still loved Coco despite the latter’s absence. Now, holding Coco in her arms, Agott felt ashamed. Because she understands now how alone Coco must have been, and that she had not been there.

A tremor ran through Coco’s shoulders, and she heard a whisper so quiet she almost missed it.

“I thought you hated me.”

Every thought running inside Agott’s mind stopped, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she heard it correctly.

Slowly, she pulled herself slightly away from Coco’s grip to look into her eyes. But Coco refused to meet hers and is instead staring at their still intertwined bodies. Her expression, even though Agott cannot see it clearly, carried the honesty of someone too exhausted to lie.

“I thought,” Coco swallowed hard.

“I thought, if I ever see you again…” Her voice faltered.

“I thought you would look at me and wish I hadn’t come back.”

Agott stared, unable to speak. Coco had likely been carrying that fear ever since she entered the Tower of Tomes, and that fear must have been accompanied by the expectation of rejection. The expectation that Agott no longer wanted her, the expectation that she was too late to seek reconciliation.

A big lump of unexplainable feeling rose in Agott’s throat.

“Coco.” The name emerged almost helplessly. Coco laughed weakly at this.

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.” Agott cut her off immediately with a firm voice. Agott knew exactly Coco would think of that. After all, she had spent years trying to convince herself of the opposite—that she doesn’t care anymore, that she had already moved on, and that Coco no longer mattered.

Slowly, Agott touched Coco’s face and brushed a loose strand of hair behind Coco’s ear.

“I kept everything,” the words slipped out before she could even stop them.

Coco blinked. “What?”

Agott immediately felt heat creeping into her face.

Wonderful. Now I’m just embarrassing myself at this point.

Still, she felt like it was too late to retract her words. So she continued.

“I kept everything you gave me, Coco.”

Confusion slowly gave way to realization, which then turned to surprise. Surprise evolved into something much softer, and Agott looked away. Somehow, admitting this was harder than admitting she still loved the girl.

“The bottles of ink,”

A pause.

“The pens.”

Another pause.

“And the notes you left in our books.”

She could practically feel her own dignity leave the room while Coco stared at her. Agott stubbornly continued anyway. “I kept all of it.”

When she finally looked back, Coco’s eyes were filled with tears again.

“You kept them?” The question emerged as a whisper, and Agott sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

The first genuine laugh Agott had ever heard from Coco after years of being separated escaped Coco. And suddenly, Agott found herself smiling too.

There it was.

It was a glimpse of the Coco she remembered, the woman she loves.

“I tried throwing some of them away,” she guiltily admitted.

Coco’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“No.” Agott’s smile deepened slightly. “I failed.”

That earned another, stronger laugh. And for the first time since entering the atelier, Coco looked genuinely alive. That sight stole Agott’s breath, and she realized it then. She would never stop following Coco wherever she goes now.

“Coco.”

Those golden eyes, now filled with life, immediately found Agott’s purple ones.

Agott felt her heartbeat quicken. After everything, this was still difficult.

Still, she forced herself to continue. She knows that she would never give herself a chance again, for courage would have left her by then.

“There was never anyone else.”

Curiosity flickered across Coco’s face, as if to say, What do you mean?

Agott chuckled softly.

Trust Coco to miss the obvious.

And so, she said it plainly.

“I never stopped loving you, Coco.”

Coco stared at her, completely motionless. It was like the words rendered her incapable of movement, a feeling that Agott knows all too well. She had carried that confession alone for years, and now that it existed outside of the confines of her own heart, it felt strangely unreal.

“I tried, you know.” A quiet laugh escaped her. “I truly did.”

The admission was embarrassing, but necessary.

“I told myself I hated you, that I had moved on.” She gently brushed away the remnants of tears from Coco’s face.

“I was wrong.” That certainty surprised even Agott herself, but it felt very good, satisfying, even, to finally speak honestly.

“In every future I imagined, I looked for you.”

Coco’s eyes widened, and Agott continued despite it.

“In every version of the countless lives I’ve imagined, there was always a place that belonged to you.”

The words emerged more easily now, as years of restraint gave way at last.

“It didn’t matter how angry I was,” she admitted softly. “it didn’t matter how much I missed you.”

“It had always been you. Always.”

Fresh tears gathered in Coco’s eyes, and Agott smiled sadly. She gently tilted Coco’s head upwards before resting her forehead against the latter’s. A simple gesture, really, but an intimate one she had dreamed about far too many times.

“I was yours long before you left,” she closed her eyes. “And I never stopped being yours.”

The words settled softly between them, resulting in a quiet that was far from the chaotic silence they had in the previous hours of the evening. This kind of quietness is calm, and neither seemed willing to break the fragile peace surrounding them.

The world beyond the atelier continued turning, the shadows outside continued growing longer, but inside the comfort of Coco’s atelier, neither of them paid any attention to it.

Wrapped in each other’s arms for a very long time, they allowed themselves to believe that they had finally found the peace they had sought for.

They allowed themselves to believe that they had found the path back to each other.

And in the quietness of the night, neither seemed to realize that their story was just about to unfold.