Chapter Text
Chapter one:
VIOLET
i was 14 years old when i first met Xaden Riorson. I remember it really clearly even years later. becuase he was 17 and his father and a number of other people he knew parents had just died and my brother happend to befriend in while he was getting settelted with his new foster Parent and foster siblings. i also know this because his Foster brother liam is my age and we ended up in the same class together at school and became quite close.
Brennen became an older brother figure to Xaden and whenever my mom was stationed or working overseas and Brennen was in town he'd invite Xaden, Liam and Sloane over for dinner. Mira of course couldn't stand him but delt with it. But me? I was fasinated by him.
I blame My brother. he's the one who asked Xaden was he was into he's the one who told him to play some of his music he enjoyed like the smiths and the church and massive attack. he's also the one who pulled the baby sister card on me making me well and truly out of bounds even if i was Xadens type.
at first i had just thought it was because i liked the music which was true. i hadn't ever heard of that name before Xaden started talking about how he was learning gutair and the song angel but he wasn't very good
He got better fast, though, that was one of the many things i later learned about him, and another reason why i had such a crush on him at the time. At 17 he got better, quickly, he wasn’t the kind of person to do anything halfway once he decided to care about it. Just like how liam and sloane weren’t blood realated to him but he treated them like his own blood anyway because he loved and cared about them. By 18 he was insane with his skills and modest when anyone asked him how he got so good at singing and how quickly his hands understood the strums and notes and how it felt like the music just understood him. By nineteen he started a cover band with his best Friend Garrick and younger Cousin Bodhi, playing at house parties and battle of the band indie nights and would pratice both singing and strumming other songs from other musicians he liked. I wasn’t allowed to go because a i was under age, B my mother couldn’t stand him and c i was seen as too fragile because of how my body worked and the frustration that came with having EDS and Pots.
I wanted to be a writer or an author at 14 i didn’t know only i didn’t want to be stuck sitting in a desk job all day long.
Mira had followed Mom and gone into the USA air force. Brennen had as well before quitting and pursing his dream of becoming a trauma surgeon back here in boston.
I could tell Xaden saw me as an annoying school girl and the baby sister of a close friend and that was it. I told myself that was all it was and i could live with that.
I had friends. Dain Aetos, who’s dad worked with mom had known me since kinder even though he was a year older and Liam Mairi became one of my close friends when our paths would constantly be crossing because of close friendships and events anyway.
Dain couldn’t stand Xaden or his music passion or his friends and warned me to stear clear of him at school . Xaden was three grades above me. It wasn’t like our paths crossed much anyway but dain and his father hated the Riorsons with a passion i couldn’t begin to understand. I also couldn’t ask my mom about the issue either because she was hardly ever home in the first place and we didn’t have a good relationship since my dad died of a heart attack when i was 13.
When it came to Xaden though? I couldn’t fight it no matter how hard i tried to. I never told anyone how many nights I fell asleep with the music he liked playing through a wall, or how many times I almost said something and didn't. Or how quickly i started liking the same songs as he did for my own personal enjoyment and how easy it made it to talk to him where i wasn’t just the kid sister or the kid sister with a broken body. Mira noticed. She never said anything either, which was its own kind of mercy.
The years came and went, and somewhere in them, Xaden started pulling away. Not all at once that would've been easier to understand. Just fewer texts back. Shorter visits. A version of him that stopped meeting my eyes across the dinner table, like something about looking at me too long had started costing him something.
I did the thing every fourteen year old, then fifteen year old, then sixteen year old does when someone pulls away without explanation. I assumed it was me. Too much. Too young. Too sick, too broken, too obviously not whatever it was he actually wanted. I never once considered the other option: that maybe he pulled away because staying close was the problem, not me.
So I worked harder at things that had nothing to do with him. School. Swimming. Growing up in all the ways that didn't involve waiting for him to look at me again. My body changed in those years the way bodies do. I finished school, started college. He stayed local. Six years of knowing him turned into six years of barely crossing paths. A few Christmases, a couple of group chats I lurked in more than I posted in.
I told myself the crush had died somewhere in there. Easier to believe that than admit I'd spent six years quietly waiting for an explanation he never gave me.
Because there was no way it could have ever been anything more than that. he was way out of my league, and i was never going to be good enough for him.
Six years later and here we are on a friday night in me and my best friend Rhiannon's shared dorm room, avoiding the numerance amounts of work due next week when our other best friend Ridoc Along with Liam shows up out of the blue pounding on the door.
''I'll get it'' Rhi says as I nod and collapse back on my bed that's on the right hand side of the room, not bothering to look up from the book i'm reading. i love Rhi, we met on the first day and hit it off instantly and I'm so grateful she just gets me and shares similar interests. she's doing nursing while i'm doing creative writing. i haven't decided just yet what feild of writing I want to do but i have time to figure it out.
Ridoc is doing some crazy Computor science degree and he's thriving
Liam whom I've known for years by now and he followed us to college as well, he's doing pre law and he really enjoys it
I hear the door swing open, then Ridoc's voice, way too loud for eleven at night. "Is she alive in there or did the readings finally kill her?"
"Barely," I call out, still flat on my back.
Then Liam's voice, quieter, right behind him, and something about the tone makes me actually sit up. "Vi. You need to see this."
which is exactly why the look on his face stops me cold before he says a word.
"Vi." He's not smiling. "You need to see this."
Ridoc shoves his phone at me before I've even sat up. "Don't freak out."
"That's how you make someone freak out," Rhi mutters, already leaning over my shoulder.
It's an Instagram post. Local venue, this Saturday, a flyer for a lineup, THE MARKED DRAGONS third from the bottom. And under it, the caption everyone's already commenting on: So excited the’re back in town for the summer, playing the first real set
Everyone's also tagging - @xadenriorson
I scroll once before I can stop myself. His profile. His face sharper now, older, the kind of good that shouldn't be legal . he’s in a suit i think. And I can tell he’s gotten more muclar as his biceps are practically flashing in the formwear. He has a stubble now and his onyx gold eyes are still just as striking as they always have been as his is massive height but it’s the photo three articles down and three photos down, his arm slung around some girl I don't recognize, laughing at something off camera like she's said it a hundred times before and he still finds it funny every time. She’s beautiful, she’s tall, had perfect black hair and a perfect dress that looks to be designer if i had to guess and shes got her arm linked through his as she poses for cameras
My stomach does something ugly and immediate.
"Vi." Rhi's voice again, careful. "You okay?"
"Who is she," is all I manage to say.
Nobody answers. Which is somehow worse than if they had.
"Who is she," is all I manage to say.
Nobody answers. Which is somehow worse than if they had.
Ridoc clears his throat like he's about to defuse a bomb. "Could be his cousin. Could be a bandmate's girlfriend. Could be literally anyone, Vi, it's one photo "
"He's got his arm around her, Ridoc."
"People put their arms around people."
"Not like that." I don't even know how I know it's not like that. I just do. The same way I used to know, at fourteen, exactly which songs he'd been listening to just from the mood he was in at dinner. Some instinct that never fully switched off, apparently, no matter how many years I spent pretending it had.
Rhi takes the phone gently out of my hand, like she's confiscating a weapon. "Okay. New rule. We are not doomscrolling a man's Instagram at eleven pm on a Friday."
"I'm not doomscrolling."
"You've read the caption four times."
I had. I knew exactly how many words were in it, exactly what filter he'd used, exactly how long it had been since he posted based on the comment count already climbing under it. Six years of telling myself I was over him, and it took four photos to prove I'd been lying to myself the entire time.
Liam, quiet until now, finally speaks. "There's one more thing."
I look up. "What."
He hesitates just long enough that I know it's bad.
"He's playing a cover of 'Angel.'"
The room goes quiet in a way that has nothing to do with the hour.
I don't trust myself to say anything, so I don't. I just sit there doing the math I don't want to do six years, one song, one girl in a designer dress, and somehow all of it circling back to a version of him I used to know that clearly doesn't exist anymore.
"I need air," I say, which isn't true, not really, but it gets me moving before anyone can stop me.
"Vi" Rhi starts.
"I'm fine. Just need a minute."
Nobody believes me. I don't even believe me. But I'm already out the door, phone still clutched in my hand like it's evidence of something I haven't figured out how to name yet, and the hallway is blessedly, mercifully empty vending machine humming somewhere down past the stairwell, fluorescent light doing that faint flicker it's done since September.
I make it maybe ten steps.
Then the door at the far end of the hall the one that leads out to the parking lot, bangs open, and someone steps in, shaking rain off a jacket, swearing under his breath at the weather, and looks up.
And it's him.
I make it maybe ten steps.
Then the door at the far end of the hall, the one that leads out to the parking lot, bangs open, and someone steps in, shaking rain off a jacket, swearing under his breath at the weather, and looks up.
And it's him.
Not a photo. Not a flyer. Him, taller than I remember, broader through the shoulders, jaw sharper, the kind of tired, handsome that comes from actually living instead of just posting. His eyes find mine across a hallway that suddenly feels four sizes too small, and for one full second neither of us moves. It's like watching six years collapse into nothing.
"Vi?" My name, low, uncertain, like he's not sure it still fits right in his mouth.
"What are you doing here?"
I should say something normal. Hi. It's been a while. Instead what comes out is, "I go to school here. What are you doing here, parading your new girlfriend before your show?"
Something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe, that I'd already know that much. "Liam's my brother," he says carefully, like he's bracing for something. "I'm staying with him this week before the show."
"He didn't mention it."
"Yeah, I figured he wouldn't. He's not exactly Cat's biggest fan."
Cat. A name now. A real one, not just a stranger's arm in a photo. It shouldn't make this worse, but it does.
"Right. Okay." I turn to go. "Good luck at the concert."
His hand closes around mine before I've taken a full step, gentle, but enough to stop me cold.
"Violet."
"What."
"You look.." He stops. Starts again, something shifting behind his eyes I haven't been able to read in years. "You look really good, Vi."
I don't know what to do with that. I don't know what to do with any of this, the rain still dripping off his jacket, six years of silence sitting between us like a physical thing, the photo still glowing in my hand.
So I scoff. "Nice to know I exist as something other than your best friend's baby sister."
"Wait, Vi, I didn't mean it like that."
"Yeah. Why would you."
"You should come to the show tomorrow. The guys would love to see you. It's been a long time."
"Who's the girl?"
It isn't really a question by the time it leaves me. It's an accusation, and I watch it land on him like I've thrown something.
"What girl?"
"Her." I gesture uselessly at the phone still lit in my hand. "The one with her arm around you like she owns you."
Something crosses his face recognition, then something almost like relief. "Vi, that's my.."
"Girlfriend. Right. Figured." My voice comes out steadier than I feel, which is its own small miracle. "You two look very happy together. I'll see you around, Xaden."
"Please, Vi." His grip tightens, just slightly, just enough that I feel it in my chest instead of my wrist. Almost like he’s practically begging me to hear him out but he couldn't be, could he? ‘’Come to the show. I owe you that much. I can explain everything after."
I pull my hand free.
"You've had six years to explain, Xaden. I think I've got the picture."
I don't look back as I walk away. I don't have to. I can feel him standing there, still, watching me go, the way you feel a fire at your back even after you've stopped facing it.
What I don't know yet what I won't know until tomorrow night, until the first chord of a song I taught myself to forget is that he's about to spend the entire show trying to prove me wrong.
The door at the end of the hall swings open again before he can finish. And she walks in, the girl from the photo, Cat, laughing at something on her own phone, dress traded for jeans and an oversized hoodie now, and very much alive, very much real, very much still linking her arm through his the second she's close enough to reach him.
"Oh my god," she says, looking between the two of us with open delight, like she's just walked into the exact scene she was hoping for. "You must be Violet."
I don't answer. I can't. Because Xaden still hasn't finished his sentence, and the way he's looking at me right now caught somewhere between amused and terrified tells me whatever comes next is going to change everything.
I don't look back as I walk away. I don't have to. I can feel him standing there, still, watching me go, the way you feel a fire at your back even after you've stopped facing it.
I'm almost at the stairwell door when I hear iT, his voice, quieter now, not meant for me at all, meant for her.
"Cat, don't.."
And her voice, light, almost bored, cutting clean through the hallway like she's said this a hundred times before. "Relax, Xaden. I'm not going to tell your little friend anything she doesn't already need to know. That's your job, isn't it? Or does she still not know about the wedding?"
I stop walking.
The wedding.
I don't turn around. I can't. My hand is on the stairwell door and my heart is doing something violent and stupid in my chest, and behind me, I hear him say her name again, low, furious, like he's trying to shut a door that's already been kicked open.
"Cat, I swear to god.."
"What?" Her laugh is sharp, delighted, cruel. "It's not like it's a secret, darling. Everyone at the venue tomorrow already knows."
I push through the stairwell door before either of them can say anything else, and I don't stop moving until I'm three flights down, phone clutched so tight in my hand it hurts, one word repeating itself over and over like something stuck in a groove.
Wedding.
Whatever happens tomorrow night, I have a feeling "Angel" isn't going to be the only thing that gets torn apart at that show.
I'm almost to the parking lot when I hear footsteps behind me, fast, and I know without turning around that it's him.
"Vi, wait.."
I don't wait. "There's nothing to explain, Xaden. You're engaged. Congratulations."
"It's not what you think." He catches my arm gentle, but enough to stop me. "It's not even mine, Vi. It was my father's. Before he died. Some deal he made with her family years ago, and I got stuck holding it after he wasn't around to answer for it."
I stare at him. Rain's soaking through both of us now. "Then break it off."
"I did." His jaw tightens. "Nine months in. I ended it the second I realized what she actually was what she could do to people, Vi, not just to me." He shakes his head like even saying it costs him something. "It's not off the books yet. Not officially. Contracts like that don't just disappear because I want them to."
"So she's still.."
"She's still calling herself my fiancée because it benefits her family to keep pretending, and mine doesn't have anyone left to fight it." His voice is rough now, low. "I've been trying to get out of it for months. I just haven't figured out how yet."
Neither of us moves. Behind him, through the glass doors, I can just make out Cat watching us both, arms crossed, unreadable, like she already knows exactly how this ends and finds it entertaining.
Cat smirks at me as she presses a kiss to Xaden’s forehead
"Xaden." Her voice, sing song, carries even through the glass. "We have somewhere to be."
He doesn't look away from me. "One minute."
"We don't have a minute."
"Cat." Something sharp cuts into his voice now, final. "I said one minute."
She rolls her eyes, but the door swings shut behind her, and then it's just us again rain, silence, six years, all of it pressing down at once.
"Vi." His hand is still around my wrist, and when he speaks again his voice has dropped low, rough, like whatever he's about to say has been sitting in his chest for longer than tonight. "I need you to know something before tomorrow. Before the show. Before any of this gets more complicated than it already is."
"Know what."
He looks at me for a long moment, like he's deciding whether six years of silence is worth breaking in a parking lot in the rain.
"I didn't pull away from you because of anything you did." His thumb moves once, absently, over the inside of my wrist. "I pulled away because I couldn't trust myself not to.."
Headlights sweep across the lot. Cat's voice again, sharper this time, calling his name from somewhere near the car.
He doesn't finish the sentence.
He just lets go of my hand, steps back, and says, quiet, almost like an apology, "I have to go, liam gave me your number, i hope that’s okay, don’t be mad at him it’s my fault, i wanted to sent you a VIP ticket for tomorrow night as a surprise’’
And then he's gone , jogging back through the rain toward her, toward the car, toward a life I have no place in, and I'm left standing there with half a sentence I'm going to spend all night trying to finish myself.
Not trust myself not to.
Not trust himself not to what.