Archive of Our Own

I think we did something for the last time, yesterday.

I don’t know what. I guess you can never know in the moment, that’s how it works. I’ll have to wait and see what we’ll do together again, and take stock of what’s missing. What’s unspokenly off limits now, and forevermore.

I can tell by the sadness in your smile. You’re usually better at hiding that these days, but when I look back, I can see that look, that smile in particular, every time you silently withdrew something from our carefully curated list of acceptable activities. I don’t think you realize you’re doing it. I certainly won’t be telling you. It’s the only thing that clues me in to appreciate what we did that day a little more.

Here’s a list of what we did, so I can narrow down what to stop hoping to do again, in the future:

• Did a group morning lesson with Bel.
• Endured Easthies and his terrible bob without getting into a fight (verbal or physical).
• Had lunch together with Alaira.
• Cut your hair because it was getting long and tangled again.
• Went to the library for “independent study”.
• Snuck out of the Great Hall after we got bored reading textbooks.
• Went to the Kahln evening market, bought some spices.
• Went to a bar with a dance hall.
• Danced. (please don’t let it be this one.)
• Shared a bottle of good wine.
• Pleasantly passed out, and woke up only mildly hungover. (I could give up the hungover part.)

I fear it was dancing.

It wasn’t the dancing, thank the stars.

It was the haircut. I know because your hair started getting long enough for knots again, and before I could ask if you wanted another haircut, it was already done. Apparently Alaira did it for you.

I didn’t think I’d miss cutting your hair this much.

It’s just a haircut.

It’s not the dancing. Not this time.

The last time we hugged was the first time we met. If I had known that was going to be my one and only real hug with you, I would have held on even tighter.

The last time we shared a bed was the night before you took the librarian’s trial. Now when we fall asleep in the same space because we stayed up too late together, one of us is always on the couch or the floor.

We were still young enough to both fit comfortably in your bed that last time, even though you always managed to throw your leg over my stomach at some point. We both had plenty of room, but I always woke up crowded over to one side, with you stretched out in the rest of the space. It reminded me of a cat.

I still wake up on the edge of the bed, leaving enough space for you, many years later. Like you’ll come and claim it again someday.

The last time I held your face was before the fourth test, when you started getting nervous that morning and I could see your thoughts running away from you.

I told you to look at me, and when you kept muttering instead, I grabbed your face with both hands until you did. That shut you up, real quick.

I thought I saw you start to blush. Then you stepped back, and smiled that sad smile I recognize now, and I knew I would never touch your face like that again. I was too busy blushing myself to process that in the moment, and shortly after we had to go take the test.

When we passed, you offered a high five.

It’s not the same.

The last time you fell asleep on me was after we’d finally finished the renovations at the atelier. You’d made a soup, we sat on one side of the table, we ate hungrily and talked about getting you your first apprentice. I stole the last of your piece of bread. You yawned, leaned over, and slept on my shoulder for half an hour.

I didn’t dare move.

You woke up, our bowls empty, the room mostly dark. You shot up suddenly, muttered something about being more tired than you thought, and ran off to your room before I could say anything.

You haven’t sat on the same side of the table as me since.

We’ve kissed so many times in my dreams, some of them almost feel real.

In order to have a last time, we have to have a first time, I suppose.

The last time I almost confessed was when we argued about Coco.

It wasn’t that you took her in. It was that I knew this meant you were going to go after the brimhats again. Even with all of the apprentices depending on you, the atelier finally stabilizing. You’ve really come into your role as a teacher. Even Agott is less bristly these days, and I can see Tetia is finding her focus. Richeh is still a struggle, but she’s still here, and you’re constantly asking me how to push her gently forward. You love them, teaching them, seeing them grow. This is what you said you wanted to grow up to be.

I almost told you I loved you too much to watch you destroy the life we built like this.

I almost told you I loved you, period.

It won’t be the last time I think that.

It has to be the last time I almost say it.

I don’t think I can handle seeing that sad smile after you hear it.

The last time you tell me a truth about what you’re up to was before the brimcap attack on the Serpentback Cave.

It used to be that I could tell there was some truth to what you were sharing. I knew you were keeping something from me, have been for a long time. I figured I would just wait it out. You would tell me when you needed to, and as long as you told me something that had truth in it, I could piece it together, bit by bit. All I could do was be someone you trusted enough to confide fully in.

You’re a good liar, now. But remember who taught you in the first place.

You said goodbye today in a way that felt like it was the last time. You had that sad smile. You lingered, like there was something more. You initiated the clasp of the covenant, and you held onto my hand for a moment longer than usual.

All the signs are there.

I don’t know why.

I hope I’m wrong.

You came back.

You came back and you said today is the last time you’d lie to me.

You came back and you hugged me and you refused to let go for so long that I thought you’d somehow fallen asleep.

But you came back.

The last time you wiped my memories, you tell me, was after you’d recovered from the Serpentback Cave attack.

You told me you’d wiped my memories many times before that. I said I didn’t want to know. It doesn’t matter. You did what you could, shut yourself off when you needed to, made things off limits with a sad smile to make it easier and harder on yourself all at once. And it was all my idea in the first place.

Pretty selfish of me, to leave you holding all that, all these years.

You asked if I wanted to know when the last time we kissed was. I don’t.

I said I want to kiss you for the first time, again, starting now. And never have a last.

You still somehow take up most of the bed, like a cat.

I held your face when I finally told you that I love you.

You smiled, genuinely, when you said it back.

The last time I open this journal is right now, because I’m not counting lasts anymore. The only thing I hope I’ve seen the last of is that sad, resigned smile of yours.

To the many firsts still to come.