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What hurts the most isn’t the way that Karolina won’t meet her eyes, or the fact that she can’t bring herself to try. It isn’t the way that she keeps her distance, sitting across the room, as if Nico has something she could catch. It isn’t Karolina’s arms, wrapped around herself tight, the way that she used to wrap them around her, that Nico can’t help but to see as a way of closing her out. It isn’t the disparity between how they used to be, so achingly similar to the way that Karolina embraces Julie in framed photographs dotting her walls. It isn’t Julie at all, or the fact that Karolina has moved on with her, or the fact that Karolina is happy, because, God, all Nico has ever wanted for Karolina is happiness.
It’s not that.
It isn’t knowing that it didn’t have to be like this, knowing that Alex and Gert and Victor didn’t have to die, that Molly and Xavin didn’t have to be taken away, and that Chase and Karolina didn’t have to be pushed away. It isn’t knowing that it didn’t have to happen, but it did, and that it did because of her, and her failures as a leader and a friend. It isn’t the fact that pulling people in then pushing them away is one of the only things she’s good at, the endless cycle, her bad habit, one of the only constants in her life.
Nor is it the knowledge, chipping away at her brain, that she isn’t happy, that she isn’t moving on like Karolina. It’s not that Nico doesn’t have college pennants and polaroids and physics textbooks, just a shitty apartment and shitty ramen noodles and smudged eyeliner. It’s not that she’s still waking up in the middle of the night dripping in sweat and her own tears, screaming all the words that she’s swallowed, or the ghosts she sees everytime she closes her eyes or looks into her bathroom mirror.
It’s that it could’ve been her.
It could’ve been her in Karolina’s photos, wrapped up in her tan arms. It could’ve been her, wearing Karolina’s sweatshirts and lipstick on her cheek, and the scent of her citrus perfume in her hair and her bed. It could’ve been her, making Karolina happy now, just like she could have made Karolina happy back then. That she could be the one making her smile that smile, the one that lights up the room even without her powers.
And maybe, somehow, it still could be her.
But it won’t, because Nico is scared now. Scared just like she was before, on that night on the roof, when Karolina leaned in close and grazed her lips. Scared like the night that she rejected Karolina, not because she didn’t want her, didn’t love her, but because she’d never wanted anyone or anything more. Scared like that night that she was so terrified, she did what she does best, and turned away from the only person that’s ever made her heart feel light.
Karolina is bright and beautiful and vibrant and vivacious and loving and affectionate. She doesn’t shine like sunlight, she is starlight, in every sense. She deserves to have all the light and love that she gives out reciprocated by someone that is able to let themselves be loved.
What hurts the most is that Nico can’t give her that, but Pomona College and Julie Powers can.
So when Karolina tells her she has to stay, that she’s happy now, all she says in return is “I know”.
Because Nico does know.
Karolina is happy. Karolina has moved on. Karolina has a new life, one that she deserves. One that doesn’t involve Gert, or Chase, or her.
But leaving without her still causes her chest to ache in a way that she’s never felt before.
Karolina Dean should be happy. She has a loving girlfriend, and new friends. She has an education, a dorm room. She’s in therapy, learning how to move on. She has a purpose, a future. She should be happy.
But Karolina learned long ago that the should haves are useless. Her parents should be here, be alive, but they aren’t. Xavin should be here, but they’re gone, somewhere in the depths of space. Gert should have never died, or Alex. None of it should have ever happened. But it did. Should haves don’t matter. So she tries not to dwell on them.
Karolina lives with the consequences of a life that she never chose, while trying to create a brand new one, replacing hideaways and time travel and aliens with term papers and parties and football games.
And Julie.
Julie, who gets the whole superpower thing. Who buys an electric stovetop for the sole purpose of making her vegan pancakes. Who holds her when nightmares come creeping in, making her wake up sobbing. Who always answers the phone, and smells like springtime and gives her butterfly kisses across the bridge of her nose and whose fingers fit perfectly between her own when they hold hands. Julie, who is constant and steady and fun and beautiful and perfect.
Julie, who Karolina should love. Who Karolina does love.
But not as much as she should.
Karolina shouldn’t think about other girls. Karolina really, especially, shouldn’t think of Nico Minoru or wonder where she is or what she’s doing or if she’s kissing some stupid guy that doesn’t deserve her. She shouldn’t care so much about someone that breaks her heart.
So when Nico drifts into her mind, Karolina pushes her away, shoves every thought of her down and buries it beneath the floorboards. She doesn’t say her name or call her or write to her. And it’s easy, pretending that Nico and everything Karolina felt for her is as dead as her old friends and her parents.
But that’s before Nico Minoru is standing on her doorstep. Before, despite everything, Karolina’s heart races and her palms sweat and all she can think about is how much she missed her. All she wants to do is envelop her in her arms and hold her so tight that she can’t run away again. She wants to tuck her hair behind her ears, to kiss her like she’s always wanted to. She wants to tell her about the nightmares that wake her up at night and all of her doubts because she knows Nico wouldn’t just listen.
She would understand.
So, despite everything, Karolina wants to go with Gert, Chase, and Nico. She wants, so badly, to be with the only people who have ever truly been through what she has. To be with the only people that have ever felt like home.
But she knows she shouldn’t.
Once, years before everything fell apart, Karolina’s father told her during some lecture that sometimes, the right thing is the hardest to do.
So she thinks of Julie. She thinks of college. She thinks of her therapist, and everything she’s been taught. So Karolina takes a deep breath, and says, “I can’t come with you.”
She hopes that Nico will say something, say anything. Beg her to come with them. Show her that she wants her, in some shape or form or something in some way, in any way. Show Karolina that she needs her, too.
But she doesn’t.
Nico just leaves, just like she always does. Karolina watches her walk through the door, just like she always does.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She shouldn’t be hurt. She shouldn’t even care. She shouldn’t feel her heart break. She shouldn’t cry after Nico closes the door behind her, or when she’s laying in bed beside Julie that night.
But she still does.