Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Senior Year. Somewhere in Autumn, maybe? I can’t even remember.

“Mi luz, me hiere.” She told me, glasses pulled slightly below her eyes, and a hat somewhat crooked. Our eyes were locked onto each other, only mine were filled with a particular kind of fogginess that I could not explain.

She was fidgeting with the tie that I’d fixed for her that morning on our walk to school. The one that I'd done hurriedly, despite it being routine. She had a habit of being late, and I knew it well.

“Chance, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to be this way.” I scratched my elbow with my nails.

“Might I ask why?” She took a slight step forward, instinctively making me take a step back. Any closer and I likely would’ve run away. In reality, nothing was stopping me from doing that exact thing right now.

Four years. It’d been over four years since we’d started dating. It was roughly three-quarters into our seventh-grade year when one day, under the largest tree near the garden that our school had out back by the field, Chance dragged me all the way over. She told me she had something important to say to me, but all I could think about was the potential that we’d miss our bus.

It was simpler then. It didn't feel like it at the time, but in comparison to all of this now, it was so much easier.

My hair was much shorter then. I’d still identified as a boy then. It wasn’t abnormal for a guy and a girl to be friends, but it was only a matter of time until one of them would develop feelings. For the longest time, I felt that Chance and I were different. Because we’d known each other since elementary school, we'd never let the idea of partnership or the potential for eventual marriage and such complicate our friendship. But out of the blue, one day, I found myself daydreaming about her in a way I’d never before.

I didn’t make the connection as soon as I probably should’ve. By the time I had, she and I were already under the tree. The flowers hadn’t bloomed yet; it was still too cold for them to open their petals to take in all the sun they possibly could. It felt almost cliché. I felt embarrassed.

She'd gently grab both of my hands and pull them closer. Her face was tomato-red as she confessed the feelings she'd been aware of for a long time now. My response was hesitant, but that didn't make it any less accurate. I felt the two of us would never be separated again.

But things were different now. My hair had grown out longer than it ever had before. You could pull it back into a ponytail, maybe even braid it if you wanted. I had become familiar with makeup. I had become familiar with dresses. The stereotypical girly things that made me feel real.

I felt happy.

But I also felt like this would only burden her.

“There could be a million reasons why, but I don’t think any of them would make sense.” I’d respond after a couple of moments. Why was I doing this?Was it for her sake, or to protect myself from the inevitable pain? More importantly, why did this feel so dramatic?

The leaves were flowing around us. I remember them being variations of yellow and brown, which made me feel like this was happening in the fall. My brain has worked around the clock to try to force me to forget what happened that day. Some of the events will be lost to time, others will imprint themselves in my memory until the day I die.

“Tesoro. If this is about the girl thing, I want you to know that it means nothing to me.” She took another step. I almost hesitated to take another backwards step. “You are the same person I’ve always loved.”

The terms of endearment almost made me feel sick. It felt as if they were exploding in my face. They didn’t belong to me. They shouldn't. I had no right.

“But it should matter,” I responded, clenching my hands into fists. My eyebrows slightly furrowed in frustration. The solution to this whole mess was easy for me to see, so how could she not see it?

“Ellie-”

“Don’t you understand, Chance? I’m not the same person you fell in love with anymore.” I finally broke eye contact, choosing to look at the ground over her visibly tense face.

She muttered something that I could barely hear. It wasn’t loud enough to make it out, but just audible enough to know it was there. It sounded like something mixed between a sigh and a sniffle, accompanied by some strange string of words that seemed to solidify something to her.

“If I can’t change your mind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

I averted my sight upwards again. Her glasses were slightly foggy, and I could tell her eyes were threatening tears. Just slightly, her bottom lip quivered, only to be stopped by the intense biting of it. She’d fix her glasses before placing her hands deep into her own pockets, making the slight hunch in her posture all the more noticeable.

She’d turn and make her way down the sidewalk. I stood there, unmoving. I couldn’t. Any step I’d take would be towards her. My decision, one I’d thought so thoroughly, would be for nothing if I took that step. That one step would turn into so many more until I ended up in her arms again. She’d have to deal with my confusion, all of what was pent up inside of me. She doesn’t deserve that.

So I stayed unwavering. I stood meekly at the end of the pavement until I could no longer see her beyond the bustling of cars and other people on the sidewalk. It was only then that I started making my way home, in hopes of finding comfort in my own room that I hadn’t realized had been solely taken over by the thought of her.

She'd become everything to me—the clothes that I wore, the air that I breathed, the arms that I rested in.

When I finally did make it to the driveway, my legs ached. It was an unfamiliar pain. 

My house was not far enough from the school to tire me out before I made it through the front door, but something about today felt much longer than the other days. Perhaps it was because she was not here to walk beside me, to hold my hand, or wrap an arm around my shoulder when a near-beginning winter breeze would abruptly make itself known and I’d shiver as an immediate response.

Nobody was home, surprisingly. I couldn’t tell you whether this made me feel all the more lonely. It felt desolate. It dawned on me that Mia was staying after school for some club, and as per usual, my mother wouldn’t be home until roughly seven or eight. Maybe later. The thought of clocking in for work subsequently escaped my mind as I made it in. I paced to my room, hardly aware of my surroundings but crashing into nothing because I knew the layout like the back of my hand. This feeling would become normal for such a long time to come. Days felt indiscernible. Everything would bleed into each other, and I would have no proper way of determining what day of the week it was if it weren’t for my alarm clock only sounding on weekdays. Sooner or later, I found myself in a dream-like state. With all the diversity of my life that she took with her, this new monotony would confuse me. 'Was I still dreaming? Did I even wake up this morning?' would rack in my brain at almost every moment of the day.

As soon as I opened the door, I stumbled into the room and was almost immediately greeted with the hard wooden floor on the palms of my hands and knees. Pain shot through my body, and I could feel nausea coursing through my stomach and up to my head. A mixture of remorse and guilt circled everywhere that wasn’t a constant reminder that I felt like throwing up, and the disgusting feel of heat hit me like a bullet to the face as I began to cry.

Just how dependent had I become? Why was something like this hurting so bad when it was ultimately my decision? She has to hate me now.

I pulled my knees up to my face, securing them tightly in my arms, and I held and held until my body ached from the uncomfortable position. I was overreacting, I truly was. I shouldn’t have felt sad about what happened. I should’ve felt remorseful for how I treated her.

Soon enough, I’d slowly pick myself up from the ground and carefully walk over to my bed. Once I sat down on it, I pulled my covers over me and pressed my head against the comfort of pillows and stuffed animals. I didn’t deserve any comfort, but I had no intention of not taking it. 

Selfish, I was. Greedy, I’ll always be.

I was lulled to sleep by the ticking of the clock at my nightstand. A quiet sound that always annoyed me when I was doing busy work or trying to focus felt like the most familiar thing I’d ever known, having lost the most valid form of comfort because of my own stupidity and culpability.

I woke up sick the next morning. My mother made me stay home.

She never asked. I never told her.

I was on my own now.

Chapter Text

December 10th. Two years after graduating. Snow was heavy, and my head was empty.

It was closing time. I was fumbling with the keys in my hand, trying to shove them into the handle as quickly as I could before my hands stiffened from the cold. The wind was strong and my jacket was thin. I’d only prepped for light snow the morning of, just like I had every single day for the past several weeks. It typically never snows too harshly. I had no reason to believe it would today.

There was a slight sound of crunching snow behind me. It was heavy enough to be footsteps, but far away enough not to cause any concern. It could’ve been a person simply passing by. Granted, it was late for a walk, but who am I to judge?

Once I’d successfully secured the lock, I turned on my heel to begin walking home. However, my path would be interrupted by a shadow, much larger than myself, looming over me.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the day,” I said, making no effort to look up and take in who was actually standing in front of me.

“I’m actually here to see you,” was their response. My blood ran cold. A wave of nausea immediately enveloped me, and it was not beneath me to make a break for it. “If you’ll allow it.”

“Chance?” I coughed. I’d finally look up towards her. Her sunglasses were still planted on her face, despite how dark it was by this point. Under her jacket, I could still see a suit and tie, and I could almost stifle a dry laugh. All this time, she hadn’t changed a bit. It was nearly comforting.

The only difference I noticed was that her hair was significantly shorter than it used to be. What once fell below her shoulders was now cut near her chin. Her curls were much more prominent, and if you’d straighten them out, they’d probably rest nicely above the base of her neck. It was almost boyish.

“Elliot...” She said my name with what sounded like relief, as if she’d anticipated this moment for ages and was only just now graced to experience it.

“How could you possibly want to see me?” My words rubbed off my tongue colder than I expected. In reality, I was fighting off the urge to jump into her arms and tell her how much I missed her. How much she’d plagued my thoughts since the last time I spoke to her.

“I’ve missed you so much, querida.” Her voice was soft, a sweetness to my ears that no amount of music to drown out my reality could ever replace.

“Don’t call me that.” I retorted.

Chance minded the distance between us. She did not attempt stepping closer, despite how much I could tell she wanted to. In a way, I wanted to, too. Her warmth, still so familiar to me, had lingered for so long. The ache of wanting her touch again never did entirely go away; I’d only suppressed it for as long as I could.

“I don’t mean to impose on your life. If you don’t want to see me ever again, I can understand that, but please,” She pulled her hat off and pressed it against her chest in a pleading manner. “I want to make amends at least.”

“Amends for what? I was the one who broke up with you.” Several curls stuck out from the top of her head. Soft in appearance.

“I must’ve done something to warrant it. Did I say something that made you uncomfortable? Do something? Touch you in a way that you didn’t like?” Her speech began to pick up speed as she fidgeted with the brim of her hat.

“It was nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Her voice suddenly went quiet.

“It was me. It’s always been me.” I stared down at the snow beneath us. “I didn’t want you to deal with all of…what was happening.”

“So you chose to call things off instead of actually talking to me?” I couldn’t feel any anger in her voice. Guilt, sadness, regret, those were probably better words to describe it.

“Well…when you put it like that…” I leaned further away from her. I’d always known it was my fault, and it all could’ve been avoided if I’d just been more open. However, actually hearing it from her affected me more than I thought it would.

“Do you hate me or something?” She slightly pulled her glasses up.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” I stared back into her eyes, a rich golden color. Well, they were much more complicated than that. Her pupils held specks of a vibrant crimson. Blotches that felt almost like blood spatters, freckled into her eyes. “I don’t think there will be anyone else I’ll love as much as I do you.”

It was as if her entire demeanor changed after those words came out of my mouth. The once quiet and dismissed expression that felt as if she were an abandoned puppy, turned into one of hope and some other emotion I couldn’t quite describe. If she had a tail, it’d be wagging by now. Clinging onto the idea that I loved her, and that that love still existed today.

In a way, this made me feel bitter. Was she so devoted to me that she’d spent all this time still wanting me? She could’ve dated anybody, really. Her family is well-known enough that it wasn’t uncommon for people to come up to her with the intention of ‘getting to know her’. Granted, a lot of it was for the money, but it’s still something? What’s telling her she can’t form a meaningful relationship out of gold-digging?

But who am I kidding? This is Chance I’m talking about. The same Chance that once stood outside of my house in the rain for an hour as I struggled to find something to wear for our planned date. Who then, after getting sick, didn’t reprimand me in any form and only begged me to help nurse her back to health by staying over at her house for several days. She knew I’d always loved her, even despite struggling to show it. That’s what worked about us. She knew me how nobody else did, and I knew her how she didn’t want anybody else to know.

On nights we’d stay over at each other’s house, even long before we started dating, she’d made it a point to list out all the things she loved about me. The list grew longer, and I struggled to understand how she could find so much to love about a person, let alone myself.

“You love me?” She smiled giddily. Her teeth were still slightly crooked, a gap still evident between the top two.

“I don’t think I ever stopped.” The grip on her hat tightened as I spoke. “I’m sorry for all of this, I really am.”

She’d put her hat back on securely and grab onto my hands that I hadn’t noticed were clinging to my satchel's strap out of habit. Carefully, she pulled them both towards her, and she leaned down to lay a gentle kiss against where both thumbs were against each other. My face flushed, finally feeling her skin against mine again. I said nothing.

“I’m sorry if it sounds selfish of me, but I would like us to get back together.” She’d nervously avert her eyes in the distance. Selfish is probably the last word I would ever use to describe her.

“Get back together?” I repeated as a question.

She nodded, gripping my hands tighter as they’d fall mostly limp between us.

“I don’t know…” As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t a good decision. “So much has changed.”

“I don’t think so.” She’d drag her hands to my wrists, then further up to my elbows. I stayed in place this time. “You don’t feel all that different to me.”

She shifted her hold towards my waist and pulled me into a tight embrace. It took me a moment, but I’d soon warm into it and return the gesture. Her fingers tugged tightly at the back of my shirt underneath my sweater. I could feel a slight shake in them. My own hands rested at the end of her jacket, rubbing against the area in which it ended and turned into the rich textile of her clothes underneath. 

“That’s what you think.”

“But isn’t that all that matters? I’m the only one loving you.” She’d press her chin against the top of my head. All the cold was banished from my body as she enveloped me in warmth. The smell of what I felt was cologne, clearly a different kind from the perfumes I was once used to her wearing, hinted off of her chest. It had an almost earthy smell, like the smell of the woods or previously fallen rain.

We’d stay like that for a little while. The wave of nausea would soon subside as I allowed myself to melt into her touch. For a moment, I was content. My mind was filled only with thoughts of her and how she felt, rather than the worries and incompetence that my brain would otherwise conjure.

“Can I at least walk you home?” She’d finally say, somehow pressing her chin harder against me, as if scared I would say no.

I gently leaned back. I was still in her arms and had no intention of letting go of her. I involuntarily smiled at the request before frowning as I thought about it a little longer.

It surely wasn’t a good idea. It couldn’t have been. I knew what would happen if I allowed it, but even still, I so desperately craved it.

She’d spend the night, I’d wake up in her arms, and things would be as if nothing had happened. But something did happen.

She began to brush her hands through my hair. The loose strands that weren’t neatly pulled back to accommodate the high temperatures near the pizza ovens messily fell towards my collarbone from beneath the uniform’s cap. She seemed to be admiring it.

Unintentionally, I leaned into it.

“Do you really want to?” I murmured in response. I guess there’s no going back now.

“Would you let me?”

“It’s a yes or no answer.”

“Yes.”

And so from there it was settled. She’d let go of me, and the two of us would begin walking through the winter storm.

The walk was mostly silent, with a bit of small talk here and there. What do you really say to a person after reuniting with them in the way we had? Two years was a long time, but it wasn’t long enough for things to change drastically.

“Where did you decide to go to college?” She asked after hearing only the sound of crunching snow on the pavement.

“I went local instead.”

“Why not the one you were so adamant about back in high school?”

“I figured you still wanted to go.”

“But you were the one who asked me to in the first place.”

I shrugged as a response.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Dropped out.”

“Really? Why?”

“Not for me, I guess.”

“But you’re smart. Weren’t you consistently the top of our class almost every single quarter?”

“That was mostly luck. I never studied.”

“You piss me off.” I smiled, only slightly.

The streets began growing darker and darker as we continued. While streetlights were still plentiful, there were no longer headlights of cars brushing past us to light the rest of the way along the sidewalk. Most houses didn’t illuminate through their windows, and Christmas lights weren’t exactly the most practical when it came to actually knowing what was in front of you. Even still, the two of us continued without an issue. A trail all too familiar to me, but it seemed that Chance had no problem navigating it either.

“How’s your mom?” She asked.

“Good. She’s been doing a lot better recently.”

“Your brother?”

“Also pretty good. I bet he’ll be excited to see you.”

It had actually only been recently that he’d stopped pestering me about what happened to Chance. I never told him the truth, at least in full.

She seemed to perk upwards in response.

“Really?”

“I wanna say you were one of his favorite friends of mine.”

“Friend? Tan duro.” It came off lightheartedly as she faked being wounded in the chest. At least, I hope she intended it that way.

“And your family? How are they?”

“Same-old, same-old. I work at the casino nowadays, but even then, they still get home a long time after I do.”

“No more illegal gambling? I mean, you’re practically of age now.”

“I don’t have to do it in the VIP rooms only, if that’s what you're hinting at.”

For as long as I can remember, Chance’s parents were always dragging her to the casino on account of some “official business.” It wasn’t uncommon for Chance to miss school due to the far less uncommon habit of her parents forcing her to gamble because of her unusual luck. I’d say it was a problem.

Chance didn’t seem as affected by it as she probably could’ve been. While she did have an affinity for gachapons and arcade machines based on luck, it wasn’t like she was constantly talking about putting her life on the line for a bit of pocket change. Small surprise trinkets from a couple of tokens that cost at most 10 bucks were enough for her. To my knowledge, at least.

“What do you even do at the casino?”

“I handle a lot of advertisements and such. Products, drinks, food. Anything to rake in more money than we already make.”

“Which is how much typically?”

“I’d say a little over a million a week.”

“Yeesh.”

Despite this, it was probably safe to say I was more famous than she was. What pizzeria ads will do for a person.

A sudden gust of wind would send a shiver down my spine. Luckily, my house was already in view, just a bit longer until I could walk inside and sink into my warm covers and take a well-deserved sleep. Oh, how thankful I am for Winter Break.

“Cold?” She asked.

“Just a little.”

Without another word, she unzipped her jacket and pulled it off. In a swift motion, she draped it around me. The insides were lined with a soft, fuzzy material that I brushed my fingers against.  When I looked back up at her, I was proven correct to believe that she was wearing the same formal attire she’d worn throughout high school.

“Won’t you be cold?” I asked.

“It’s only for a little bit. You still live just over there, don’t you?” She pointed off in the direction where I did, in fact, live.

“But it’s your jacket.”

“You’re not even wearing one. Don’t want you getting sick.” I guess a sweater isn’t really a jacket.

“Thank you…” I said hesitantly as we continued.

We’d soon enough make it to the steps of my house. When she made no intention of taking her jacket from me, I’d assumed that she did in fact plan on staying over. However, after unlocking the door and turning back, I noticed she was still at the bottom of the stairs and a couple of steps away.

“Surely you’re not gonna walk home in this weather?”

She looked around. It was getting much harder to see.

“I’ll manage,” she said.

“I’d feel awful if I let you.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Before I could respond, I heard the door creek open much wider.

“Elles, who are you talking to?” Mia pushed against the door, rubbing his eye while doing so. It was clear that he’d been asleep before we arrived.

He paused upon meeting Chance’s gaze.

“You remember Chance, don’t you…” It’d take a couple of seconds for him to process what was happening. When he had, his eyes almost seemed to light up, and he bolted out of the house and into Chance’s arms.

The two spun around, with Mia rambling on about how it’d been so long, how much he’d missed her, blah, blah.

“Mia. Don’t be so rough.” I reprimanded, noting that Chance looked visibly winded by the interaction.

“Are you two finally back together?” The question weighed heavily on both of us. I could feel the air thicken, even if only slightly, from how thick it was already.

“Don’t say things like that. Where did you even get that idea from?” I never intentionally kept my relationship with Chance from my brother. I guess something inside me was telling me to.

“Don’t you think I’d notice you two being so lovey-dovey?” Mia turned to me, a single hand on a hip.

“It’s rude to make assumptions.”

“How is it rude if I’m right!”

“You don’t know you’re right.”

“I know you guys were dating.” He crossed his arms in retaliation.

“Go back inside.” I sighed. There was enough roughness to my voice to imply that it wasn’t simply a request, but an order. With a stubborn huff, Mia walked inside, leaving Chance and me alone once again.

“Sorry about that,” I said once Mia was out of my sight.

“All good. I’m glad he was happy to see me.”

There was a brief moment of silence. I peered out into the distance, seeing that the snow had picked up once again. It was almost worrisome. It’s not like Chance lived far off, and with her luck, I doubt that it’d be much of an issue for her. Still, I don’t think I could’ve gone to bed knowing that I made her walk home.

“Uhm…” I started, unsure of how to ask. Chance noticed and quickly piqued her attention in my direction. “You sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

She smiled ever so slightly, likely by accident, with the way she suppressed it only a moment later.

“It’s best we don’t. We aren’t even dating.”

“But we’re still friends, aren’t we?” I clung to my satchel’s strap again.

“Can things truly go back to the way they once were, though?”

My shoulders tensed. That made sense to me. If she and I had been dating for much less time, I would probably be able to return to just being friends, but four years?

“I’m…” I couldn’t just say sorry again. It would make the first time I said it less meaningful. But I honestly was sorry.

“Y’know, I hold nothing against you for what happened. It was ultimately your decision, and a relationship is about how both people feel. I’m glad you put yourself first.” Chance shifted her head, removing the supposed eye contact from behind her glasses. “I already told you I wanted to get back together, but it is once again your decision on whether or not we actually do.”

“...”

“I can’t truly feel comfortable being around you, knowing that it’s for my sake. If you don’t want to get back together, then you don’t want to.” She shrugged. “I don’t mean to enforce an ultimatum, but it’s simply the truth.”

But I did want to get back together. More than anything else in the world. Would it be selfish of me to even say that, though? She’s practically serving it to me on a silver platter, the thought of dating once again. It’s an almost agonizing feeling from the pit of my stomach, from where my heart sat in my body. An aching feeling that could only be described as yearning with a mixture of regret. Where would this even go? What if I’m making all of this up? What if I’m not actually a woman, and I go back on my word, and we once again find ourselves in the same situation a second time?

My thoughts began spiralling. Even still, I tried to maintain my composure. How well I was doing that, however, was an entirely different story.

I didn’t hear the footsteps draw near. I didn’t hear Chance trying to get my attention, to pull me out of my trance. I only came to when I felt her warm hand on my shoulder. Separated by the fabric of my uniform, I could almost imagine the roughness of her fingertips. A roughness that felt like the safest thing in the world.

“You’re doing it again.” She told me as I stared up at her.

“Huh?” I croaked out.

“You’re getting inside your own head. Overthinking.” She rubbed circles with her thumb near my collarbone. It was grounding.

“Again?”

“Yes, again.” Her hand dragged down my arm, stopping at my wrist. It was adorned with various kandi bracelets, all relatively simple. Mia enjoyed them. We shared several. “These are cute.”

I looked down at the bracelets. Most were red, white, and black, with hints of color here and there. Most of them were ones I had made for the two of us, but he made the one in a color to match his own hair. He’d given it to me, with him having one that matched my own ‘colorscheme’. Kiddie, I know, but it was fun. A gentle reminder that he is always my little brother.

The interest in kandi only arose after my breakup with Chance. It almost became a distraction.

“You’re letting the cold air in,” Mia yelled from inside. Somewhere far, I could tell. I didn’t look to check.

Chance snickered lightly.

“I best be out of your hair, in that case.”

No. Not again.

Just as Chance pulled away, I grabbed onto her hand and pulled her back towards me. It wasn’t intentional, hell, I don’t even know why I did that. It was as if my body was moving on its own, out of some weird desire. Her face landed close to mine, mere inches apart. I could see her eyes through her sunglasses, wide and surprised by the sudden action.

“Need something else?” She smiled nervously, eyebrows furrowing. Both of our postures were rigid, anticipating but also careful of the other.

My mouth fell slightly. I was about to speak, but stopped myself. My face grew warm, not exactly regretting my actions, but wondering why I had chosen to pull her close to me now.

My mouth was dry.

“You…your jacket! You need your jacket.” My voice cracked.

“Ah, you’re right.” She responded softly. “You sure you didn’t need anything else?” It was much quieter.

Despite no spit pooling, I swallowed. Hard. Almost audibly so.

“I want you to stay over.”

“Come again?”

I could’ve sworn I was speaking louder. Was I?

“I want you to stay over. I want us to get back together.” I gritted my teeth and my hand squeezed tightly around hers.

“Do you now?” She spoke not teasingly, but as a genuine question.

“I want you.”

Chapter Text

December 11th. Somewhere after midnight.

My arm had long since fallen asleep, but the rest of my body hadn’t. Her head gently rested on my chest, supported by my forearm and wrapped in practically every other part of me. Her hair tickled lightly at my chin, at my mouth. The grey curls, littered with white highlights, were soft, almost fluffy to the touch.

She was wearing my clothes—a random black T-shirt she found in the back of my drawer. A band tee, likely from one of the many concerts she and I had gone to throughout high school. She wasn’t wearing any pants, preferring to sleep in the pair of boxers that she’d come here in. It was rare to see her legs. Almost obscene, which I found particularly funny.

With my free hand, I twirled my fingers through her hair.

I was tired, terribly so, but something about holding her again kept me up for longer than it should’ve.

A sudden stirring pulled my hand away from her hair, and I calmly rested it at her side. She tilted her head slightly upwards, and I could feel the brushing of her hair backwards against my chin. I tried to remain still.

She clung to me tighter. Both of her hands were wrapped securely around my waist. She held onto me as if I’d disappear if she didn’t. Which, in a way, maybe that would happen. 

She made a slight groan as she repositioned herself further into me. One of contentment, peace. She did not attempt to hide the fact that she enjoyed pressing her face into my chest, but that was neither here nor there. The truth of the matter was that she enjoyed being with me again, and that made me feel better than anything else on Earth could ever make me.

“I know you’re still awake.” She’d mumbled abruptly. The buzzing of her speech felt weird, almost prickly.

”So are you.” I responded, voice low.

“I woke up because you keep moving.” She pulled her head back to make eye contact. “What time is it?”

I turned as I shifted slightly towards the clock to get a better read of it. Chance held onto me the entire time, making it somewhat difficult, but I managed.

“I think it says 1:55. Somewhere around there.” It was much later than I expected.

“You’ve been up this whole time?”

I shrugged before turning back.

“That’s not good. You need sleep.” She pulled my face close and kissed me on the bridge of my nose.

“I’ll manage.”

A bit of slight worry was evident on her face. The way things were, how we were, it felt almost as if nothing had ever happened. As if the two years never existed. Which, in a way, worried me.

“¿Tesoro, sí tienes que ir a trabajar por la mañana?”

I understood Spanish to some extent. It wasn’t uncommon for Chance to switch around, whether out of habit or intention. She’d speak primarily Spanish to her parents, and they’d answer in Spanish. Certain words I picked up on.

I nodded, only actually understanding “trabajar” and “mañana”.

“How early?”

“5 am.”

“You need to sleep.” She pulled her hands back and moved them towards my face. She pinched my cheeks gently. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head.

“It isn’t anything like that. I just can’t sleep.”

“Reason why?”

“I don’t really know.” She’d brush a thumb against my lips.

Her touch was comforting. The roughness of my skin still felt soft as she pulled my cheeks back and forth in an almost massage-like manner. I absentmindedly hummed, and my eyelids slowly fell. It wasn’t enough to make me fall asleep. Far from it, in fact. Yet, it was comforting enough to ease my nerves slightly. When I opened my eyes again, she’d already stopped, and her head was now pressed into the crook of my neck.

The feeling of her breathing against my skin felt funny, but I didn’t consider it an unwelcome sensation. 

At some point, I did end up successfully falling asleep. I didn’t know when. When I woke up in the morning, I felt exceedingly more tired than when I had fallen asleep in the first place.

The first thing I noticed was that I was the only one still asleep. The lights were still off, with only the lamp’s small light illuminating the rest of the room. I felt cold. My covers were no longer sufficient from the storm outside.

I had no hope that the pizzeria would close. While weather complications were an easy excuse not to clock in, if the pizzeria wasn’t closed, then I had no intention of not going—something about a distraction.

I pulled myself up and rubbed my eyes. It did not make much of a difference. I was still tired, and my body still ached. I stretched, seeing if that did anything. Ultimately, it didn’t.

I sat for a moment, staring down at the covers still draped over me. It wasn’t until I noticed movement out of the top corner of my eyes that I picked my head up.

Chance, who seemingly hadn’t even noticed I’d woken up yet, was sitting at my desk. Her posture was almost nervous, as if anxiously scanning over the messy papers and various sticky notes I had pinned on the board above the desk. Before the break, a significant essay was due. I spent night after night trying to perfect my work, before ultimately being one day before the deadline and deciding it was no longer worth the trouble anymore. It was good enough.

I hadn’t received my grades for it yet. The thought of it made my heart beat faster. I actively chose to ignore it.

Her leg was incessantly tapping, making a slight noise that wasn't loud enough to be a bother. I noticed her head was looking in a specific direction. Based on that, I deduced that her gaze was fixed on a small stuffed animal that was sitting on top of a box that I kept pens in. A cat, colored somewhere between black and grey, with a rainbow collar. That dumb “cat face” was on it. It was a silly purchase, but one I made anyway.

I’d only bought it because it reminded me of an old video I’d seen when I was younger.

I picked up my legs and pulled them towards my chest. The sound of rustling blankets finally caught Chance’s attention as she turned towards me. She was still in my clothes, seemingly having woken up only minutes before I had.

“Buen día, mi cielo.” Her smile was soft.

“‘Morning,” I said, sounding short of breath. “Whatchu lookin’ at over there?”

I tilted my head slightly to get a view around her. She quickly turned back, as if trying to find something to say.

“Nothing in particular. Just looking.” She started flipping through pages. “You have a lot of writing.”

“An assignment for school.”

“Aren’t you on break?”

“I am. That was before we went on break.”

“Ah.” She straightened them out. “What were you writing about?”

I yawned before I could answer, picking up my hand to my mouth to suppress most of it out of habit.

“Something about the Great Depression. Stock Market Crash. That kind of stuff.”

“All this?”

“Maybe a couple of assignments are mixed in.” I pushed myself off the bed and walked over to her. As I stood behind her, I lazily wrapped my arms around her neck and leaned over just enough to see what was in front of her.

Neat handwriting that was completely ruined by pen marks and strikethroughs of bright red marker. Remembering what I had turned in, it was hard for me to imagine that this was what I started with. The only similarity, it seemed, was the topic.

“Your handwriting is still very nice.” She commented, grazing a finger against the lines of pencil.

“Too bad it was hardly worth the hassle. The assignment was submitted online.”

“Why’d you write it down, then?” She picked her head up slightly.

“Helps me think better, I guess.”

“Makes enough sense.” She shrugged.

I pressed my chin against the back of her head, eyes averting towards the stuffie she’d been looking at previously.

I grabbed it, examining its fur briefly before placing it down in front of her.

“I saw you looking at him.” I smiled, voice hushed as if it were a secret between us.

“I was.” A hint of bashfulness was evident, but not as if she was trying to hide it. “It’s cute. Where’d you get it?”

“Some corner-store, I think. Those cheap ones that hang on stands.” I caressed its ear, remembering it once had one of those little hooks that I’d long since pulled off. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it had a red one that accompanied it.”

While not explicitly red, more like black with red accents that replaced the rainbow this one had, it still had red.

“Why didn’t you buy it?”

“I did, actually. But, I’m not exactly sure where I put it.”

I didn’t intentionally separate them. For a while, I alternated which one sat on my table and which one was kept elsewhere. Typically, the other would be on my nightstand or at the base of my window. One day, it’d just vanished. I didn’t look for it, figuring that it would turn up at some point. Push comes to shove and if it really bothered me, I’d just go buy another.

“Bummer. Did you take it somewhere?”

“I don’t think so. Got lost, I guess.”

She nodded, though not really in agreement. Simple acknowledgement of the mostly concluded conversation.

The two of us remained like that for a little while, until I ultimately decided that it would be best if I got ready for work. From the looks of it, the weather had slightly cleared. Roads still seemed rather slippery, so I figured I’d walk today.

Find thicker clothes to wear.

Chance left at some point while I was in the shower. When I returned to my room, it was desolate aside from a new addition on my shelf.

The other cat, neatly placed next to the initial. Next to it, a note scribbled in quick and barely legible handwriting.

‘It was underneath your bed!’

A simple conclusion I should’ve come to long ago, but the gesture was cute. I placed them on a high shelf, promising myself that I’d never separate them again.

Chapter Text

December 12th. End of the week and shopping during my break.

"If I'm back late, you don't mind covering, right?" I asked, getting my stuff together as I was heading out the back.

"No problemo," Sally replied from the table near the ovens. A relatively new hire in comparison to all the others. His face was familiar to me because he used to own the local furniture shop alongside his twin sister, Jordan.

Truth be told, he was my only friend at the pizzeria. The only co-worker I made an effort to talk to every day.

I slipped out the back and into the cold air of the afternoon. The town wasn't far. Nothing was far, really. I decided to walk, figuring that my bike would only become a hassle to park.

The community always makes a point of being punctual with holidays. As soon as December began, the previous Thanksgiving decorations were promptly torn down overnight to make way for the bustle of Christmas lights and various colors of tinsel wrapped into shapes of different Christmas-y items. Each shop also had its own decor that reflected what it sold. It was charming.

I hadn't come to town since the beginning of the month, so this was refreshing. The pizzeria is similar, with my mom making a point to ensure each location is decorated.

My current stream of thoughts was inconsistent. On one hand, I knew why I was in town. I needed gifts. Nothing too big, nothing too expensive. Three people in particular were on my mind: my mother, my brother, and the person I'd gotten for Secret Santa at the pizzeria.

On the other hand, Chance had not left my mind since seeing her for the last time yesterday morning.

A rather fleeting thought, mixed in with my typical mindset throughout the day. However, consistent enough to say that it was a distraction.

What did that night even mean? She hasn't texted me whatsoever since then. Does she even still have my number?

Are we dating? Wasn't that the exchange to stay the night?

I shook myself out of the thought as quickly as I went into it. It could've simply been just a one-time thing. Maybe, in reality, she regretted seeing me.

I stepped into a familiar corner store. Immediately, I was met with the smell of gingerbread and peppermint—a warm, welcoming contrast to the rigid cold I'd previously put my nose through.

I briefed the counter, glancing over as I walked in and processing the bell that rang above me. Behind the counter was the shop's primary owner, Daisy. Alongside him, a relatively small child who was constantly giving customers advice on things to buy (almost always succeeding), his son, Charlotte.

Daisy and I had become friends during my short time knowing his wife, who had since passed away at the hands of a war that only ended a couple of years ago.

A shame, really. Despite being a pretty impressive soldier, Guest 1337 was a kind soul at heart.

"Ah, Elliot! What brings you here today?" He greeted us as we exchanged eye contact.

"Gift shopping. Have anything new this year?"

"Follow me!" Charlotte chimed in, rushing over to me and grabbing me by the wrist. He was a fair amount younger than my brother. Despite the two not having many qualities in common, Charlotte reminded me a lot of Mia.

I was dragged to a small collection of those little Christmas sculptures that look like places you'd see in a town. Buildings, houses, and restaurants are all adorned with fake, shiny snow and a variety of lights. One in particular was playing a short melody that felt Christmas-y in nature, but I couldn't quite pin it to one I'd heard on the radio. Another caught my attention, with a mechanical train, no larger than the end of my thumb, that chugged itself around a tree on equally small train tracks.

"We also have some new tree decorations," he pointed off somewhere to my left. "And behind me, I think there's some new flavors of candy canes and taffy."

"You think candy would be a good Secret Santa gift?" I asked, not knowing whether or not I was actually being serious.

"I'd like candy for a Secret Santa gift."

"You're like 7."

"You're the one asking a 7-year-old." He shrugged.

And with that, he skipped away and back to where his father was still standing. Slightly dumbfounded, I stood there for a moment before shaking the previous events out of my mind and continuing around the shop.

My mother and brother were relatively easy. I had a streak of writing my mom handmade Christmas cards with a small drawing that she'd always hang up in her room. It started one year when I couldn't for the life of me figure out what to buy her, as the woman had practically everything (according to her), and giving her a store-bought one felt lazy to me. My brother, on the other hand, had already given me so many requests for what he hypothetically wanted; it was only a matter of choosing which one from my accumulated list. I could either mark a couple down now, given that many were relatively recent, and take my chances for his birthday, or make it easy on myself and only buy one. I was leaning towards the second option.

The Secret Santa I'd gotten was Lulu. Which, if it weren't for the fact that he was essentially my understudy, I likely would've had a much better relationship with. Lulu had been at the pizzeria for so long that he and I were almost identical in skill. Because of this, my mother always decided to put him on shifts that I had not taken over.

From what I knew in our limited conversation, his hair was pink, he was always very cheery, and he had a more or less successful YouTube channel. I've never looked it up.

Additionally, he was almost always on shift when our town's local loser hacker was up to causing mischief. This isn't to say that I wasn't always either, but it's a shame he's constantly getting roped into it, too.

Sweets wouldn't be the worst thing. Does it imply something when you give someone candy? I must be overthinking.

I decided to grab a couple of assortments, in case, by the day before Christmas Eve, when the staff would have a mini-Christmas party to commemorate two whole days of break, I still didn't have anything for her. Hopefully, the taffy wouldn't be stale by then.

After walking back outside after completing the purchase, I paused briefly while standing in the open. I did not see, nor, frankly, hear, the sound of heels tapping roughly against the sidewalks, slightly sheeted with snow. The only thing I'd feel is an abrupt push, soon to be followed by the smell of some expensive perfume and a bitter taste to my mouth.

Initially, I wasn't planning on saying anything. People accidentally bump into each other all the time. It wasn't until I peered at who'd so harshly shoved me that I got an idea of who it actually was—followed by the sound of a familiar voice, calling to get the attention of said figure before noticing me.

"Ah, mi linda, what are you doing here?" Chance immediately grabbed onto my hand after pausing from catching up with the other figure, who I now knew was iTrapped.

Someone I hadn't seen since high school.

Immediately, my brain began to assume the worst, but I refrained from mentioning it.

"I'm just doing a little gift shopping, is all," I said with a smile that felt too forced and likely not as realistic as I intended. "What are you and...her...doing here?"

There was an unintentional break when I referred to iTrapped, whom I'd now realized had very quickly noticed a lack of Chance following along and was now standing beside her. Her face was difficult to read, with an expression somewhere between impatience and a feigned smile that felt too sour to be real.

"Oh! I'm sure you remember iTrapped, don't you?" With the hand that was not attached to mine, she gestured toward the tall woman adorned in expensive jewelry and a crown that practically screamed, 'Look at me!' 

While certain qualities were definitely new, her ability to somehow make the air around us even colder was unmistakable. Her clothes, seemingly akin to something only royalty would wear, felt starkly contrasted from the hoodies I'd only ever see her in in high school. She now had the appearance to match her awful attitude, which I could only describe as spoiled.

She did not attempt to greet me; instead, she chose to stare me down. I could tell she was looking for an opportunity to pull Chance away from me and continue along with whatever it was they were doing.

"It's definitely been a while. How are things?" I decided to try at least to make conversation. Perhaps she had changed, and I was reading the whole situation wrong.

I knew the two were at least still close after Chance and I broke up. It wasn't uncommon that I'd walk past them in the hallways. I'd make an effort to walk away as quickly as I could, but I couldn't help but feel slightly jealous.

"Mr. Builder." That's all she responded with. Did she really think that that was a proper way to greet someone you hadn't seen in years? I mean, she and I were never close, but c'mon!

"iTrapped." Chance's words felt almost sharp, and it was clear that I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Her posture became slightly tighter, only noticeable if you had been eyeing every little bit of how she stood.

"Apologies. Chance tells me you've transitioned into a woman, have you? Congratulations." Her fake smile only grew even more forced. "You were nearly unrecognizable to me."

I felt awkward, like I was intruding on something. I was still assuming that the two had come here on a date, and I was merely third wheeling. It didn't help that the two were dressed so formally; meanwhile, all I had on was my work uniform.

I likely wouldn't have even been mad. It was not my place to dictate Chance's relationships, even if I felt that we had gotten back together. If she didn't see it that way, then I have no reason to feel the twinge of hurt inside my chest that made it slightly harder to breathe.

There was an awkward silence. It gave me a moment to notice that Chance was holding onto a small bag. It was black, formal, and had the logo of a store that I didn't recognize. It took me a second to decide to speak up.

"I...uhm. I should get going now. Sorry for interrupting." As I tried to pull my hand away, I only felt her tug tighter.

"Is everything okay, Ellie?" Chance whispered, truly for only me to hear.

"Yeah. I guess I'm just a little surprised, is all." Distraught was a better word. I gritted my teeth ever so slightly to distract myself from the feeling of wanting to vomit. Boy, doesn't this bring back memories?

Chance glanced towards iTrapped without turning to look at her, who remained relatively still, only now seemingly distracted by the store I had just walked out of. Her gaze danced on each lettering, and her face felt stern and focused. When Chance looked back at me, her face was almost understanding. She smiled before leaning forward and planting a kiss on my forehead. Her free hand now caressed my cheek, and it remained there even after she pulled away.

"Can I come over again?" She asked. "Yesterday was nice."

"After work, I don't mind." The pain was replaced with a more fuzzy feeling. Something nice and pleasant, and a feeling I can't say I've felt in a while. "I'd prefer telling my mom this time, though."

"Fine with me. Does she know we're back together?" Her voice was still low. Her hand had moved back towards my hair, which was now pulled down—something I'd done absentmindedly on my way to town.

"Not yet. I don't doubt Mia hasn't already gotten to her, though."

The subtle confirmation of partnership felt incredible. As if I could never feel pain ever again, knowing that I belonged to Chance and she belonged to me.  

"I'll stop by at the same time I did on Wednesday, okay?"

I nodded, slightly bouncing on the soles of my feet in a manner that showed I might've been too excited for such a small thing. I felt a smile creep onto my face, one that I could not chase away.

And that is what did in fact happen.

Before I walked out of the pizzeria later that day—the last person to leave and the only one with the key that locks the doors—I spotted the familiar silhouette standing with her back against the door frame. A familiar bell jingled as I opened the door, and it caught her attention immediately.

The two of us began our walk in a comfortable silence this time. Her arm was securely wrapped around my shoulders, tugging at her own jacket to wrap me in it. I didn't bring up earlier events, deciding it was better not to ask questions. I wasn't under the impression the two were still friends, let alone the type to hang around with each other one-on-one.

"Did you ever text your mom?" Chance finally asked.

"Forgot to. Do you mind sneaking in through the window?" Mainly intended as a joke.

"I haven't done that since high school."

"Only when I was grounded." I retorted.

The crunch of snow became almost calming, knowing it was because we were walking together. The all-too-familiar feeling of walking home alone after a long day at work, even going so far back as to remember the sluggish feeling of making it home from school my Senior year, was a mere distant memory now. As we approached my house, I felt her pull away and disappear into the fog of the snow. I wasn't even sure if my mother was home. I figured she wasn't, so technically, there was no reason for Chance actually to sneak in. Still, the gesture was funny.

I walked inside, to be greeted by my brother sitting at the kitchen island with several papers and his laptop spread out in front of him.

"What'chu workin' on?" I asked as I approached him, pausing just as I stood over his shoulders.

He briefly looked back towards me before looking back at the papers.

"Group project. I got stuck with some lazy assholes, so I'm having to pull my weight."

I hit him on the head, light enough to make a sound but not enough to really hurt.

"Hey! What else would I call them?" He covered the part of his head that my hand had come into contact with.

"You could've just said lazy." I briefly looked around. "Mom not home yet?"

"As far as I know, nope. Shouldn't you know?" He remained looking at the papers, writing down something every so often between pauses of speaking.

"Maybe." I shrugged. "She never really tells me what she's gonna do."

"Is Chance staying the night?"

"Huh?"

"I saw you guys walking together. She's sneaking in, isn't she?" He finally looked back at me, a smug smile apparent on his face.

"That's none of your business."

"You never told me if you two were dating again! Are you? Aaaaare you?" He completely spun around in his chair, squirming in anticipation.

"Again. None of your business!"

"Oh, c'mon! What am I gonna do if you are? Tell Mom?"

"That's exactly what you'll do."

He puffed before turning back around.

He continued writing while I awkwardly stood in place. Why didn't I want to say anything?

There was still a fear that this—everything that's happening—would be short-lived. That, just as quickly as it began, everything would end, and I would have to deal with the consequences of my own actions again. I felt this fear was justified, but in the end, it would only be my own doing that would decide that fate. If I were happy, then why should I let go?

"Are you hungry?" I finally asked.

"Kind of. Are you ordering or cooking something?"

"Do you want anything in particular?"

There was a pause as he thought to himself.

"Didn't a Chinese takeout place open up recently down the road?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah. You want Chinese?"

He nodded.

"Alright. Rice, steamed vegetables, teriyaki chicken?"

He nodded again.

"Okay, I'll order it in a couple of minutes." I began walking away to my room. "Good luck on that project."

I continued down the hall and into my room. I figured that Chance would be inside already, and I was proven right when I spotted her sitting back in my desk after opening the door. The window was slightly ajar, open enough to seem intentional. Snow was definitely falling, but a light wind accompanied it. I didn't mind it.

"I'm ordering Chinese. You want anything?" I asked after I closed the door behind me.

She perked her head up towards me, having previously been staring down at her phone.

"I'm fine. I ate before I stopped by to walk you home."

"With iTrapped?" It came out before I could think about whether it was something okay to ask. I could feel the slightly bitter tone on my tongue.

"Yeah." She responded coolly, as if my question were nothing out of the ordinary.

I walked over to my bed and placed my bag on top of it. After rummaging through the pockets, I pulled out my phone and quickly opened the ordering app to see if the new place was already listed. When I did find it, I promptly put in what Mia wanted, followed by what I wanted. 

"You sure you don't want anything? They got cookies."

She looked back up. I didn't bother asking why she was paying so much attention to her phone, figuring it was none of my business.

"That's fine. Thank you."

"...Mhm." I placed the order and set my phone down on my nightstand, making sure the ringer was on so I could hear the notifications.

I crawled onto my bed and lay down, saying nothing else. I couldn't imagine why she wanted to come over if she was gonna sit there. I wasn't going to beg for attention and figured that just ignoring it was for the best.

I stared at the ceiling, face plain and focused on nothing in particular.

It remained like this for several minutes. A silence that felt uncomfortable, but likely only to me.

It dragged on and on until my phone buzzed, signaling that the food had been delivered. It was shortly followed by the faint sound of the doorbell, only faint because of the distance between my room and the front door. Quietly, I got up and left the room.

When I'd gotten to the living room, my brother had already grabbed the food and set it on the corner of the table furthest away from where he'd been working.

"Did you check the order?"

"Yep. My stuff is there. I don't know what you got."

"Okay. You want a cookie?"

"Chocolate chip?"

"No. Sweet potato."

"Sweet potato?"

"Yeah. Here, try one."

I passed him the cookie, which was light brown in color and soft in texture. It was still slightly warm, which I didn't expect.

After he took it, he made a small bite.

"You gotta eat more than that to actually taste it." I snorted, nudging his side lightly.

He took a hesitant, bigger bite. A couple of seconds into chewing, he didn't spit it out, which I saw as a good sign.

"Not bad, actually." He said, still with a mouthful. He'd take a couple more bites before finishing the cookie.

"Really? I've never had one either."

"You made me try it, and you didn't even know it was good?" 

"Hey! Be happy I offered you a cookie." I took his order out of the bag and slid it towards where he had been sitting, quickly following up by pulling out mine.

"Are you gonna eat in your room?"

"Nah. She didn't order anything besides a cookie. She can wait."

"Did something happen?" He asked as both of us sat down beside each other.

"Hm. I guess it's less of something happening and more of something not happening."

"Mind elaborating?" He asked, already taking a bite out of his food.

"She's been on her phone since I got into the room. I think it's related to this one girl she's friends with." I finally opened my own food. "I don't think she's cheating or anything like that, but I guess it makes me feel a little odd."

"Do you know the girl?" He said, eating between words.

"Kind of?" I picked at my food with the plastic fork. "I mean, she went to high school with us. The two have been friends since then, but I stopped talking to her at all after Chance and I broke up."

I'd quickly realize I was rambling, but Mia either didn't notice or didn't care. He seemingly was more focused on his food than me, but still answered me every single time I paused.

I didn't even realize the last bit of what I'd said. He didn't acknowledge it.

"What brought on the jealousy?"

"You think it's jealousy?"

"Sounds like it." He shrugged. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being jealous. I think it shows you care."

I smiled sheepishly.

"The issue arises when you act on that jealousy in a bad way." He continued. "I'm sure if you brought it up to Chance, she'd respect your feelings."

"But what if how I'm feeling *isn't* justified. She's done nothing to make me suspicious aside from the two hanging out on their own, which is a completely normal thing to do with friends." I finally took a bite of my own food, more out of anxiousness.

"How does this girl act around Chance?"

"Normal, I guess? She's not really the type to show much emotion. I mean, I don't think she likes me if that means anything."

He pressed his fork against his lips thoughtfully.

"I mean, it could be a cause for concern. But that alone isn't a sure-fire way to tell she likes her." He leaned over against the table, beginning to mix the contents of his bowl.

I didn't say anything, merely dwelling in my own thoughts again.

"I think a lot of it comes from the fact that you guys stopped talking for a pretty long time. What is it, 2 years?"

"I don't think that's very long."

"I'm pretty sure you two were already friends when I was born. How would you feel if we didn't see each other for two years?"

"That's different. You're my brother. Of course I'd miss you." We turned towards each other and smiled.

"All I'm saying is that I know it hurt you. I think I noticed that hurt a lot more than most people."

"Did I change much?" I was well aware that I'd changed, but I couldn't say to what extent. I tried to keep up my demeanor, behavior, actions, and interests, but eventually it became hard. I was tired. I never thought a breakup could affect someone that much.

"I remember you wouldn't leave your room for quite a long time. During the summer, there was this one time Mom didn't even bother waking you up for work because she'd noticed how you were." A slight chuckle escaped him, but I could tell it wasn't because he found it funny. "You didn't even bother to leave your room. I tried finding any excuse to get you to eat something when I was home that week."

"Did I really?" I had not the slightest recollection of this happening.

"You've lost a lot of weight. Haven't you noticed?" Almost playfully, he pinched at my side.

That was something I noticed, but I thought it was because I was eating less food from the pizzeria.

"Whether you realize it or not, that shit affected you a lot."

I chose not to get after him for the cursing. 

The two of us continued eating in a comfortable silence. It was relatively quick, given that eating takeout doesn't take long, and I returned to my room soon after cleaning, hugging him, and saying thank you. He got back to work very quickly.

Upon my reentrance to my room, Chance was now sitting on the ground, huddled up against the mattress behind her. Her head was between her knees and arms, while a single leg tapped against the floor insistently. I noted that her phone was left on the desk.

"Everything okay?" I asked after walking in. What was this—the third time someone's asked this in the last hour?

Immediately, her head perked upwards, and she seized all movement.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She pushed her legs out, taking on a much calmer position.

I walked over and sat down beside her. She leaned her head against my shoulder, tiredly. Her hat was already pulled off, along with her glasses and headphones, leaving her completely soft and vulnerable. Her eyes were kind, and it no longer felt like I was being shunned.

She pulled me closer to her, wrapping her arms around my torso and legs, almost as if I were some stuffed animal. Her touch was gentle and mindful, warm and comforting. She hummed as she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, me now on top of her with her legs between mine.

"You tired?" I asked, voice no louder than a whisper.

She hummed in agreement.

"It felt like iTrapped wanted to go to every single store." She murmured. "We ate at like, three different restaurants."

I wrapped my arms around her neck as her arms wrapped around my hips. It felt like she was trying to pull me closer, if that was even possible.

"Did you get anything?"

"No. We mainly went for her." She shifted her head down, her forehead now pressing against my shoulder. "She could've easily gone by herself, but she'd been pestering me about coming along, so I just gave in."

I'd told Chance long ago that iTrapped was just after the money. She never did listen to me.

Even still, I allowed her to talk. It was nice hearing her. We remained in each other's arms as she continued rambling on about her day, clearly winded by the events and the exhaustion that comes with socializing. The way she spoke, taking time to explain how she missed me and couldn't wait to see me afterwards, patched up the wounds that I'd inflicted on myself and comforted me in a way that I couldn't describe. How she told me she was tired from all the walking, but seeing me and having the opportunity to walk home with me made all of that ache go away.

I never did give her that cookie I said I'd buy. She seemingly forgot about it just as I had.

"What about you? How was your day?" She pushed me up until we were making eye contact. Her hands still rested at my hips, keeping me in place but allowing more space between us. I pulled my hands back and rested them on her shoulders.

"Nothing out of what I'm used to. Perhaps aside from going into town and seeing you."

"Why were you shopping anyway?"

"Christmas gifts. I only ended up marking off one person, though."

"That's still progress. You have 13 days left, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess that is a lot of time."

"Might I ask who the gifts are for?"

"The one I got today was for Secret Santa at the pizzeria. The other two I was looking around for were my mother and brother."

It made me think about whether or not I should buy something for Chance this Christmas. It'd make some sense, given that it's not like we're merely acquaintances or barely starting things out. 

But the question was what?

"Is your family hard to shop for?"

"No. Not at all, actually. I guess I was just more focused on the Secret Santa, since I don't really know much about her."

"Really? I would've thought you knew everybody."

"Well, I know of everybody. Knowing them personally is an entirely different thing."

"I'm sure you'll manage."

"I hope I did."

There was a brief silence that followed, along with the feeling of her hands brushing up my back and near my shoulder blades. She didn't break eye contact, and her face was benign.

"I've missed looking into your eyes, mi reina." She finally said.

My face warmed. I wasn't expecting the compliment. When was the last time someone ever complimented my eyes?

A simple green. Slightly more on the yellow side. My mother would tell me that they went well with my skin growing up, but that was really all I'd ever been told. It wasn't until Chance and I got older that she began using similar phrases as a form of flattery. I always felt that they didn't hold a candle to her own, but she'd refuse the thought whenever I brought it up. Something along the lines of that 'she could see fields of flowers within them'.

Corny, I know. But it was something that never failed to make me smile.

"Well, I guess we both missed something about each other."

"Really? What'd you miss about me?" She leaned forward slightly at the inquiry.

"I've missed the way you feel," I responded, pulling myself back into her. 

A familiar tiredness overtook me, one that felt like it could pull me into sleep even while we were still sitting on the ground.

And pretty soon, it did. I'd fall asleep blissfully in her arms, listening to the sound of her heartbeat as she pressed her chin down slightly against the top of my head.

Permanent happiness was a long time away, but maybe I could allow myself to feel scraps of it.

Chapter Text

December 13th. Outside is cold, in here it's warm.

"Don't you take Saturdays off?"

"I take one Saturday off a month."

I was already pulling my hair up into its usual ponytail, having showered and gotten on my spare uniform. It reminded me that today I had to do laundry, among other things.

Chance sat at the foot of my bed. Her jacket was hanging from the back of my desk chair, but her button-up and slacks remained on. I'd always thought they looked uncomfortable, but she seemed to manage just fine.

"Why can't it be today?"

"Because I have no reason to. What if something big happens next Saturday and I don't have a day to spare?"

"Your mom owns the pizzeria. I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

"The more money, the better. And besides, we're already pretty short-staffed for this time of year." Despite the pizzeria always being pretty busy, a full roster was hard to come by. We'd be lucky if at least one person were set at each station. "And besides, don't you have to go to the casino today?"

She always had to go; it was her job.

"But the casino is boring. Gambling is fun and all, but it's always the same regulars with the same stakes." I bent down slightly towards her, having grabbed her tie, and was now situating it around her neck as she spoke. "I'd actually look forward to it if there was some challenge. But there never is."

"Maybe today will be different?" I had no faith in my words, but it was worth a shot.

Once I finished, I pulled back. I walked away, heading over towards my bag, which was sitting on the floor next to my bed. I noticed Chance's watchful gaze as I did so, as if waiting or anticipating something.

"You said you're taking off next Saturday, right?"

I peered back over towards her.

"No, I said if something happens, then I would."

"Why don't we go somewhere?" She stood up. "Just us, maybe?"

She seemed almost nervous to ask, which I found endearing. It reminded me so much of that day, when she stammered getting her words out under the tree. Her hands were clammy, grabbing nervously at each other, just like how she was doing now. If it were any warmer in my room, she likely would've broken into a sweat.

"You got something in mind?"

"Not at the moment." She scratched the back of her neck. "But I'll think of something! Whether we do something the whole day or later on, like normal couples do."

I smiled as she continued rambling, trying to scheme up something on the spot.

"Anything will do, just as long as we're together." She continued, speech picking up ever so slightly as her posture tensed.

I set down my bag onto the bed and walked over to her. Slowly, I leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, which in the moment only made her more nervous, but she’d quickly calm down after I'd grabbed her hands and squeezed them gently.

"That sounds nice. We can think of something together."

Her silly, lopsided smile warily made itself known on her face.

Perhaps that was another thing I missed.

"Can I kiss you?" Chance was visibly antsy as she blurted out the question. It had never crossed my mind that we hadn't actually kissed.

Well, on the mouth. Furthermore, we had kissed before, but two years is still two years.

My face went hot upon the realization, embarrassingly so. So embarrassing that I could feel it only get hotter as I made the realization about the realization. Why was this even embarrassing in the first place? Neither of us is new to this whole couple-y thing?

I pulled a hand back, feeling my cheek. I was definitely red by this point, and looking back up at Chance only made me notice just how red she was.

"I—uhm! Of course? Yes! Yes, of course!" Holy crap.

The kiss was expected, but I was still startled by the sudden contact. Our lips crashed against each other, hesitant at first but very quickly melting into it. Familiar feelings and movements began replaying as we settled into what felt the most natural.

She held me close by my waist while I still scrambled to find somewhere to press my arms against, briefly settling just below her shoulders before deciding the better place would be wrapping my arms tightly around her neck.

That one kiss turned into many more, brief ones with little to no room for breathing between. I made no attempts at pushing her away. Very soon, my body was pressed against the mattress, and her touch went from almost aggressive and needy to much more tender and sensitive to my every movement.

One of her hands pinned down my own next to my head, our fingers interlocking and softly pressing further into the cushion. Her other arm traced down my thigh before lightly squeezing the skin near my hip. Meanwhile, my own hand was pressing her neck down, making sure there was not so much as an inch between us each time she pulled away to begin another kiss.

I was allowed the gift of breathing as she pulled down from my lips, laying feathery pecks on my chin and eventually down towards the collar of my shirt. Anywhere further was entirely covered by my undershirt, making it difficult to access unless she deliberately pulled it down.

That single fact reminded me of something, which then reminded me of other things. Did she think I already had the surgery?

No matter. I had to get to work. Whether or not I was using that as an excuse to get out of the situation before it soured, all because of me, I lightly patted her on the back.

"Ch-Chance...as nice as this feels, I need to get to work," I said between breaths. "I can't be looking like I just got mauled by a hungry wolf."

She pulled away, only to lean back in with one final kiss. It was slow and patient this time around, merely as a way to savor the flavor.

After she'd let go, she quickly pushed herself back up, allowing me to get up as well.

Very quickly, I got the rest of my things together.

"Window, right?" She'd asked expectantly, knowing for sure that my mom was likely home and still didn't know about this current arrangement.

"If you don't mind, that'd be great. I promise, she'll know soon."

"Make it soon, okay, querida? It's getting hard making it in and out in the snow." I could tell she was mostly joking, but that did put a sense of urgency in my brain. I merely nodded as a response before turning, having already secured my satchel over my head.

"You still got my number?" I said, already making my way towards the door.

"You're still my emergency contact." She responded, beginning to stand up.

"You're such an idiot."

"And you love it."

Chapter Text

December 14th. There's a time and a place for everything. Right now, I think it's time to tell my mom.

I was already on my way home by this time, having experienced quite a long day at work.

It wasn't common that we experienced entitled customers, and when we did, I was always prepared, but today felt a little different.

Most of my coworkers already knew of my transgender identity. It was rather obvious, really, seeing that I'd transitioned so late into my life and still had a lot of the more masculine features puberty brought onto me. Despite this, I felt like I passed pretty okay. Or, well, I thought I did.

Today, a customer came in, a lady, no younger than 30. I wasn't the one who attended her; it was my partner on the shift at the cash registers. Yet, even so, she wouldn't stop eyeing me from the other side. It felt like she was burning holes into me, her gaze feeling like one of slight hostility, but I tried to chalk it up to her just not being the greatest in social situations.

First came the complaints about the food. She asked to see our manager, and so I lied and told her that it was me. We don't really have one at this location, and it might be the closest I'll ever be to one.

Pretty soon, it was followed by her trying to get up close and personal to me, looking me up and down, and judging me harshly. I'd told her that if she didn't back away, I would be calling the authorities. I couldn't push her away until she had somehow pushed me first.

She'd quickly begin challenging me, saying a string of words that hardly made any sense but sounded aggressive nonetheless, all the while trying to press closer into my face. I reiterated my words, and she finally pulled back. Only a smug smile was visible on her face, as if she figured something out.

And then it came. She began practically yelling on about how she 'had a feeling' and 'should've known when she walked in'. Initially, I had no concrete idea what she was referring to, but I definitely had my suspicions. Very soon, she'd blabber on about how I was only using my 'mental illness' to be a pervert, and that I was a pedophile at heart.

It made me feel weird, disgusted. While I'd been called slurs, told that I'll always be a man, practically almost every insult in the book, being called a pervert for wanting to live my life the way I wanted to felt nearly foreign.

Despite how much I felt like crying, I stood my ground. I told her that she either leave or I will force her off the premises.

She responded by laughing, but did begin walking away.

On her way out, she said something about how she would never want to eat at a place that hires 'trannies'. There we go, that's what I was expecting to hear.

But she didn't have to say all those other things. Pervert? Really?

I turned back. The other person behind the register looked at me almost with pity. He'd quickly asked if I was okay, to which I could respond with really nothing but a nod.

We closed slightly early that day. The pizzeria was mainly empty when she'd come in, which I was thankful for, so it didn't make the most significant difference that we did just that.

Once I locked all the doors, I'd begun heading home, trying not to think about things too much.

When I made it inside, I realized that my mom was already home. I checked my phone, seeing that it was an hour before I usually got home, which made me confused as to why she had already made it.

My mother was standing in the kitchen, washing something in the sink before pulling it out. It was a pot, and it was quickly placed onto the stove after being filled with water. It was only then that she looked up and noticed me standing there.

"You're home early." She commented, but didn't ask why.

"Yeah. Decided to close early."

We both know I wouldn't close early unless there were a reason to.

She merely hummed in acknowledgement.

I walked closer towards her, watching as she turned on the stove before looking into the pantry.

"What'chu cooking?" I asked, leaning over the counter.

"Alfredo. But we don't have the correct noodles, so I substituted them for conchiglie." Shell pasta, but my mom deliberately chooses to say its 'actual name.'

I guess that comes with owning an Italian-food-based restaurant. She’s not even Italian.

"Need help?" I think I was trying to find something to occupy my brain.

"If you could make the sauce, that'd be great. Do you still remember how?"

I nodded. It'd been a while, but it wasn't like the recipe was tough. A bit of butter, cream, salt, pepper, cheese, and garlic, of course, and then some seasoning if we still had any.

When I was a lot younger, it was typically my father and I who would cook together. He'd generally come home a lot earlier than my mom would, and so at some point the routine of making food for the family came naturally.

After he'd passed away, I would take on most of the cooking at home. However, after everything else, I'd slowly stopped. I guess my mom noticed this, because she would still come home and cook after learning that I hadn't.

Memories of my parents were always good. It made me feel like I'd been taking advantage of my mom's kindness

It didn't take long for me to finish, setting the bowl next to the now-boiling pot of noodles that my mom was tentatively watching.

She glanced towards the bowl, then at me.

"Do you want to pour it in?"

I nodded.

I sat there as she used a strainer to transport the noodles out of the pot of water. In a different, much lower pot, she dumped everything into it and stepped back to allow me to pour the sauce.

In a slow drizzle, I allowed the sauce to coat the noodles mostly evenly. Of course, a lot of it clumped on top but it would seep towards the bottom and melt just like it should.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask." My mom spoke up. "Are you dating someone?"

I nearly dropped the bowl, but stumbled to put it down just in time before I could.

"Sorry?" I aksed, not as an apology but to get her to repeat herself. Maybe I just wanted her to ask something else.

"Dating. I noticed someones been in your room lately."

Fuck. Was I caught? Is she gonna be mad? What do I even say in this situation?

"Uh..."

"I'm not mad. I have no reason to believe you're doing anything risky. I'd just like to meet her."

"It's Chance." I blurted, covering my mouth as quickly as my words spilled out.

"Oh? I thought you two stopped being friends."

"We did! I, uh...we're friends again. Actually, it's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Well, I'm all ears." She said, taking the pot filled with water off the stove and pouring its contents into the sink. Visible mist filled the room, but not enough to trigger the smoke alarm. When she turned back, she used a spatula to mix the noodles and sauce until they were better combined, allowing me time to talk.

"It's actually not the first time she and I are dating." I began. "Back in high school, we dated too."

She said nothing, but judging by the way she waited for me to continue after I'd paused, I knew she was listening.

"We broke up after I found out about the...thing." While not a taboo, my mom was always supportive of my identity, it felt like a sore spot in my life if anything.

She slightly turned her head, brows furrowed.

"Did she have an issue with it or something?" Her voice was more light in opposed to accusatory. More out of concern that Chance in some way hurt me and here I was waltzing back into an unsafe situation.

"No, no! Nothing like that. I was actually the one who initiated it."

"Any reason why?"

I fidgeted with the edge of my shirt. I mean, the answer was easy. I was scared. But does that response really suffice? Maybe it sounds stupid.

"I was worried she'd realize she didn't like girls, and that we'd be far to deep into our relationship to stop it."

"How long were you two dating?"

"Over four years, maybe?"

"And you kept that from me all this time?" She chuckled.

"It wasn't intentional. I guess I was just unsure."

She turned to face me completely. Her gaze softened.

"You should never be afraid to tell me how you're feeling. I'm your mother."

"Yeah, I know that. Maybe at the time, I forgot." I shifted my sight towards the ground.

Without another word, she pulled me into an embrace. Her hands were firm, but not hard. Tight, but not rigid. I didn't really know why she was hugging me. Nothing very hug-worthy was happening. All I knew was that I'd received many of them lately.

Even still, I'd return it, and the two of us would stand like that for a little while. Neither of us said a word.

My mother smiled at me, but not in the way she smiled at everyone. That one always felt far too cold to be genuine. She smiled with the corners of her mouth creasing, and her eyes relaxed. The features of aging were prominent now, the ones that I always thought were beautiful, and I would be confused whenever I noticed someone covering them up.

"I'm very proud of the woman you're becoming, " she finally said, grabbing my shoulders and gently shaking them. I was only a few inches taller than her. "And I'm sure your father would be too."

It's not often we talk about him. He passed away early in my final year of middle school. It was around that time that I definitely understood what death was and how it affects people, but I didn't understand to what extent it changes you. I'd cry about it for ages; the idea of not seeing him when I came home felt like a weight I didn't want to carry.

I kept a photo with him on my nightstand. It was one I hadn't touched in ages, but truth be told, I'd sleep with it for several years after his death.

"I hope so," I responded.

Sooner or later, Mia would walk into the kitchen, and we would have already drifted away from this topic of conversation and fixed up the table. Despite the table being relatively large, chairs were always lined up next to each other.

"What'd you do today?" My mother asked my brother.

With a mouthful, he began talking about how he'd just been home. At some point, he played video games with his friends, but aside from that, there wasn't really anything he could do.

"You can start coming to work with me," I joked. To which he responded with an eye roll.

"I don't see a point in learning anything about the pizzeria. You seem pretty capable enough to inherit it." He lightly jabbed my shoulder, smiling with an almost mocking tone.

"It doesn't hurt to try," I responded.

"Eh. You'll be the manager soon enough. I'd have to deal with you at home and at work." He snickered.

"Rude!"

My mother watched us as we bantered, merely smiling, remaining quiet. Dinners like this were often. Mia's energy, even at the end of the day, was refreshing enough to make me a little less tired. My mother would watch us, only ever interfering when she felt things would escalate (which they never actually did).

When dinner concluded, Mia was quick to return to his room while my mother and I stayed to clean up the table. As she wiped down the table, I washed the dishes. For the most part, there was merely the sound of shuffling against tile, water spilling, and the familiar squeaks of a towel against the class. 

"I do have a question." My mom finally said, walking over towards me to place another dish next to me.

I nodded towards her in acknowledgement.

"When did you and Chance start dating?"

"Seventh grade."

"You kept it from me for that long?" She asked like she’d asked before, only now I think she mentioned it more referring to the time between then and now.

I finally turned towards her, keeping one hand in the sink to let the water run off before I put it on the rack.

"I think I was more surprised about dating her than you would have been."

"What makes you say that?"

I placed the dish on the rack and grabbed the one my mom had just placed. Repeating the same cycle that I was far too used to by now.

"I guess I just didn't expect falling in love with her in the first place. I mean, she was my best friend for so long."

"You can still be best friends."

"Well, yeah, but look where dating got us."

She didn't respond for some time, but I heard her footsteps trail around the kitchen. The footsteps would become louder and louder until I was sure she was behind me. Our shoulders would press against each other as she stood next to me, only hers stopped slightly below the top of mine.

"But you guys didn't break up because it was loveless. At least, that's what I concluded." She grabbed a plate that had already mostly dried, wiped it down, and put it away. "Perhaps you two loved each other too much."

"No, I think I'm just stupid."

"Love makes you do stupid things."

"I have to be the first person ever to do something like this."

She shrugged. Maybe I was exaggerating. So many people in the world, and I'm the unique one?

"I think what matters is that you two found each other again, no matter how it happened or how you lost each other in the first place." She continued drying off plates. I finished the final dish she'd given to me, and soon we were done.

"But is it really worth it?" I muttered, mostly to myself, but my mother was definitely still listening.

"I think you focus too much on what you've done or what you could've done. You need to start focusing on your future, kiddo."

"But I don't really have anything going for me."

"Huh? That's not true." We looked at each other. "You're in college, the pizzeria is successful because of you. You work hard. You do so much for others."

I cringed.

"You just need to focus on yourself now. What makes you happy?"

A rhetorical question in the moment, but one that I'd been asked before. Plenty of times. No matter how many times I'm asked this question, I will never have a concrete answer.

Even still, I remained in front of my mother. This only thing currently illuminating us was the one that the light above the stove could provide. It was quiet, and far behind her I could see the frost of snow cling itself to the window. Colder it is again. But even still, it wasn’t worrying.

She smiled at me warmly. Not a single bit of judgment was present in her eyes.

"I think you'll manage. You always do."

Chapter Text

December 15th. Like old times.

-

It wasn't very often that I'd head out to the park near my house. It's always been there. Unassuming, really, only ever having children play in it during the warmer months. In the winter, there was practically no chance of a child ever even thinking of swinging on the swings or sliding down the slide.

And yet here I was.

On our walk to my house, Chance had pointed out the park as something she remembered from when we were younger. Despite living relatively near each other, the park was much closer to my house than to hers. Because of this, we'd only ever really get the opportunity to stop by when we went over to my house.

It's also not really something her parents would allow us to do. Something about reputation? Their wanting to be perceived seldom affected her, but for whatever reason, this was an exception.

She stood at the pole of the set as I swung back and forth lightly. She watched with a smile as I rambled about my daily endeavors, all of which were far more light-hearted than the day before.

I didn't tell her about what happened. It wasn't relevant.

At some point, she walked behind me and began gently pushing me forward. It was the type of pushing that lingered on in touch for far too long, sometimes even lazily dragging me back and forth instead of actually moving. Laughter filled the now mostly stale air as we messed around.

She'd pull me up from the swing by my stomach, causing me to stumble slightly, but her grip was tight enough to keep me relatively in place. Playfully, I pushed her away as she began trying to peck at my face with her lips. 

Childish, something teenagers did.

Between giggles, I tried to tell her we should be heading inside soon.

"Do I have to sneak in again?" She asked as she pulled her face away, still holding me tightly around my waist.

I shook my head.

"I told her last night."

"What'd she say?"

I thought about a way to summarize the conversation. Obviously, it wasn't all about my relationship with Chance.

"She approves."

Soon enough, we continued down the sidewalk and eventually to the steps of my house. I noticed the outside lights were on, a subtle confirmation that my mother had arrived home. Mia never turns them on.

My mom was cooking, so I walked over to help her. Chance stayed by the kitchen, where she and my mother had an idle conversation as the two of us worked to make dinner. This time around, it was a chicken stew with an assortment of vegetables.

"How's your family been? It's been a long while since I've spoken to them." My mom asked, scooping some of the soup into a bowl for serving.

"Everything's been good. They've asked about you a couple of times, Mrs. Builder."

"Have they now? What about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Mostly in regards to the pizzeria. You know how they are. Always thinking about business."

My mother laughed as a response. I remained quiet and off to the side, taking in the sound of their voices as they filled the room.

Once dinner was concluded, Chance and I would retreat to my room together. I yawned as I closed the door, turning to see that she was already lying back on the bed.

"Tired?" She asked, pushing her arms up slightly to support herself.

"Very."

I made my way over. Once standing in front of her, she opened up her arms. I fell into them, quickly entangling my body with her own in a tight and prolonged embrace. She pulled my hat off for me and undid my ponytail to allow my hair a sense of freedom. Lightly, she'd brush out the knots that were proof of the day with her fingertips, never too harshly but still enough to notice that that's what she was doing. When she fell back onto the mattress, her arms instead moved to snake around my torso. Her thumbs would rub against my back, and I could practically be lulled to sleep.

Except, I didn't. Despite how easily it would've been to succumb to the comfort, I waited beside her for one of us to say something. While the quiet was comfortable, I had yet to hear anything about her day at all.

Should I ask? Would she tell me on her own if she wanted to?

While I took a moment to think over my next course of action, she beat me to it.

"Mi cielo, tengo una pregunta."

I hummed as a response.

"How did you know you were in the wrong body?"

Not the question I was expecting. Did she believe she was a boy? Did he believe he was a boy?

While I'd support them in a heartbeat, no matter what they'd say, I took a brief moment to think about whether or not I was actually attracted to guys. I'd never put a label on my sexuality, but I feel like lesbian would be the most correct, just based on everything.

Come to think of it, I've only ever been romantically attracted to Chance. Sexually, maybe not. I've thought of a variety of celebrities as being particularly attractive in that aspect, but you never really think of them as the type you'd actually get to date.

I didn't push myself up, only tightening my embrace around them.

"I guess at some point I just kind of knew," is the only response I could muster up.

How did I find out, even? Surely it hasn't been long enough for me to forget.

I guess I've always had an affinity for more traditionally feminine things. Not to say that's the only indicator of womenhood, it's far more complicated than that, but it was a rough start. As time went on, through middle school and into high school, the idea of being perceived as a boy began to make me uncomfortable, like it wasn't right. I saw my body less and less as my own, and more as some cage I didn't yet have the key to unlock. It was as if I were being suffocated by some internal being that forced me to think this way.

I remember confiding in my mom at some point. It was before Chance and I broke up.

It was she who brought up the idea that I could potentially be transgender, and advised that we potentially look into therapy. I was still in denial, but I trusted my mom to make the best decisions for me.

I started hormone replacement therapy several months before we split, but Chance wouldn't find out until a couple of weeks before that day. I was finally seeing myself in a better light, but I felt it was at her expense.

"There wasn't like, a big moment or anything?" She paused. "It was just something that happened as time went on?"

"It was more like a subconscious persistence. Granted, I had people in my life who were helping me throughout that discovery."

I pushed up slightly, pulling my hands upwards to take their sunglasses off their face. Their eyes were somewhat glossy by now, as if they were trying not to cry but weren't doing a very good job at it.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" I continued, careful of what I was saying.

They nodded.

To say I wasn't worried about what they'd say next was a blatant lie. Does their gender really matter as long as it's them? If they started taking testosterone, would that affect my attraction towards them? 

"I don't really know how to word it. I guess sometimes I don't really feel like a girl?" They began. I wanted to interject and ask for clarification, but decided to remain quiet and let them continue. "But, at the same time, I don't wanna say I've ever felt like a guy."

"Like somewhere in the middle?" I finally said, careful of my tone.

"In a way? I mean, I've never really been exactly feminine." They laughed lowly. I saw the similarities between her and me, and it felt almost soothing. "I've felt like this for a while, actually."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I cupped their face with my palms, brushing my thumbs against their cheekbones.

"I wasn't really sure. It's nowhere near how you felt about yourself."

"Don't say that. Coming out is hard, no matter how different it is from how others expect you to be." I kissed their cheek. "Just know, I'll always love you the same."

They pulled me back down to kiss me on the lips. A quick one, short-lived but still filled with a yearning that existed in every single kiss they've given to me before.

"I'm so lucky to have you," they responded, grabbing me by the waist and holding me as tightly as they could.

Chapter Text

December 16th. Change of plans?

"You any good at dancing?"

"Dancing? Do you mean like a specific kind or just dancing in general?"

Chance thought for a moment. They stopped by the pizzeria just as I started my break. They sat at the booth and waited until I finally came to sit with them. Since then, we'd had light conversation about everything, and at the same time, absolutely nothing. It was mostly quiet in the restaurant, aside from a few customers, most of which were regulars. For the time being, my coworkers were more than capable of handling them on their own.

"I guess ballroom dancing would be more specific," they responded after a couple of moments.

"What, are you taking me dancing?" I snorted.

"No, just a passing thought." They shrugged.

I fiddled with the tab of the, by now, empty soda can I'd grabbed before being released for the rough hour I had of free time. I wasn't hungry. I never really am.

"I don't think I ever thought about dancing. I liked ballet when I was little, but for obvious reasons, I never actually did it."

"There are male ballerinas, aren't there?"

"Well, yeah, but I guess at that age it was far more common for a little boy to wanna do sports and stuff."

"Ballet is a sport."

"Traditional sports, my love. And besides, I'm not exactly the most graceful person in the world."

"I'd say you're pretty light on your feet."

"I don't think they'd want a trans-woman in ballet." While not intentionally meant to come off as bitter, I could definitely see how it turned out like that. Chance frowned slightly, but decided not to press further on it.

"Would you be against going dancing?"

"No. It sounds fun. Only thing is, I don't exactly have anything to wear."

"We can always find something."

"But don't all the fancy-clothes stores close early? You know how I am with taking days off."

"Yeah, which I still don't understand."

I leaned against the table, arms crossed, and my chin pressed against them. A brief moment of silence passed as Chance thought of some sort of solution.

"You have Christmas Eve off, right?"

"I do, yeah."

They thought some more.

"Why don't we spend Saturday shopping instead. We can do something for Christmas Eve."

The idea of spending an entire day shopping felt intimidating. I figured it wouldn't be for the entire day, but given Chance's spending habits with other people, it might as well be.

"I guess I'm not opposed to that," I finally said.

They grinned, practically beaming at my response.

"Okay! How much of your break is left?"

I pulled out my phone, reading to myself the time and deducing how much it had been since I walked out in the first place. It's never the same time every day, but it's a general range. Usually I got back at four if I could help it.

"About 10 minutes, give or take."

They stayed for the remainder of that time. At some point, they'd switched from their side of the table over to my side, sliding down the booth merely to cling onto me as we spoke. Their hold, somehow always perfect, persisted until the final seconds I had to get up.

"Would you mind coming over to my house tomorrow?" They asked, holding my hand as we stood next to the booth.

It'd surely been a while.

"Yeah. I don't mind."

"Cool."

Before walking out, they kissed my forehead.

"See you soon, then?" I said once they pulled away.

"Sí, mi querida."

When they finally left, I turned back towards the cash registers and noticed a familiar face staring at me, a smug smile on his face. My face warmed as I realized why.

The pizzeria was still mostly empty. I walked over to Sally, who had leaned over the cash register with his head supported by his palm.

"You and the casino owners' daughter, huh?"

Sometimes I forgot Chance's ties to the casino.

Meekly, I nodded. What else could you really say? I mean, it was true.

"How'd you two meet?" He asked, lifting himself up and facing towards me as I made it around the counter.

"We're actually childhood best friends," I responded. "Known each other since elementary."

"Really? I haven't seen her come around."

"Mhm. For a while, we didn't really talk."

"Aw, really? Why?"

"We, uh, dated back in high school."

A story that I'd probably told a million times by now.

"Well, it's cool to see you guys trying it out again. Must feel weird, no?"

I shrugged.

"I guess everything sort of falls into place. Maybe it's just because it's her, but it feels like nothing really changed. We just got older."

"Well, that's nice. I wish you two the best of luck." His tone was endearing, as if truly hopeful.

I smiled.

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

December 17th. Traditional meal, and of course, some other things...

The next day, when Chance came around to the pizzeria at the end of my shift, it was snowing rather heavily. This morning, I'd made it a point to wear a much thicker jacket, but even then, I was still cold. As we walked, Chance had their arm wrapped around me. Today, they were much taller than on most days.

"Does the height change hurt?" I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Nah. It used to." They shrugged. "Feels like any other growth spurt, even when I lose a couple of inches."

I remember them explaining it to me some time ago. Every morning, a predetermined height was given. It remained consistent throughout the day, but could be modified by certain events, such as a coin flip or a big loss. It was almost fantastical. It was something I didn't even think to question because I'd seen its existence for so long now, but surely it was unusual to everyone else.

The walk to their house was slightly longer than my own, and while we could take the long way that included the street my house was on, due to the sheer coldness, we decided to take the shorter route. Smaller houses were quickly transformed into much more extravagant ones. The farther you went out of town, the richer the city would seem, interestingly. My own house, while definitely not something to sneeze at, was hardly a comparison to Chance's. However, in return for such a nice home, the inside hardly felt like a home at all.

When we finally walked up to it, Chance unlocked and opened the door to allow me inside first. Inside felt not much warmer, but there was definitely a welcomed difference nonetheless.

"Our butler took the day off today. Which means that while we have the whole house to ourselves, we might have to order takeout."

"Is there nothing in the fridge?" I asked, taking my bag and jacket off and hanging it on the coatrack near the door.

"Not sure. I never really check."

Unlike my own house, the kitchen was in an entirely separate area from the living room. It connected to a grand dining room, with a long table that one almost felt intimidated to sit at.

I'd done so very seldom, but when I did, I'd always choose to sit as close to Chance as possible.

I walked into the kitchen, the sound of my shoes clapping against cold tiles instead of the wood they had previously had. The layout of the kitchen wasn't too familiar to me, but it appeared far simpler than the kitchen at the pizzeria. Chance followed closely behind.

The layout, if anything, was far more industrial than any kitchen I'd ever seen. While the pizzeria is by no means outdated (as evidenced by the food inspection), the large fridges and countertop stoves, which were probably longer than I was tall, were almost intimidating.

I opened the fridge, and I was immediately met with a variety of fruits and vegetables, separated by color and organized by size. In sections of the refrigerator were varieties of packaged meat, which, based on the expiration date, had been bought a while ago. They were not spoiled, but it was getting close.

The sheer amount was enough to make me dizzy.

"You'd think the cook would mind if I grabbed some things?" I asked, kneeling toward where the spices were put, notably oregano and bay leaves.

"Don't think so. I mean, we give her practically an infinite budget."

"Is your pantry in one of these counters or a separate area?"

Chance pointed towards an unopened door off near the corner of the room, weirdly separate from the rest of the kitchen appliances.

If I found what I was looking for, I knew what to make.

When I opened the door, I noticed that it was equally stocked. Perhaps a little more so, given that much of it contained food that didn't necessarily have an expiration date, or if it did, that date wouldn't be for years to come. My eyes darted from can to can, looking for a particular label that was likely on a red or white container.

"You looking for something?" Chance's insistence on following me around wasn't by any means annoying, but slightly startling. They'd taken off their sunglasses by now, revealing tired eyes that I hadn't noticed previously.

That was when I spotted it, precisely what I needed.

Hominy.

When I grabbed it, I saw Chance's face almost light up.

"You know how to make pozole?"

Pozole, a traditional Mexican stew made with hominy, is what it is mainly known for. It was often mixed in with meats, such as pork or chicken. The broth was distinctly flavorful, sometimes a deep red, sometimes a warm green, sometimes a foggy white.

"I remember back in high school, you told me your family liked it. I learned in case it ever came up."

"How did I end up being so lucky?" Their face softened.

My face warmed slightly.

"I do gotta warn you though, it's been quite a while since I last made it. Don't expect the best." I continued back into the kitchen, making my way to where I suspected the pots were kept. "Any preferences? Red, green? Chicken, beef?"

"Red, if you don't mind. Whatever else you do is good."

"Alrighty." 

I thought for a second before deciding that chicken would likely be the quickest to make.

I took out a pot and filled it with water. The first thing I remember doing was preparing the hominy and chicken. Spices came by later.

After estimating a portion that would fit two, with a little extra just in case, I allowed them to boil for a short while. Chance was walking in and out of the room for some time before disappearing for a while. The silence was slightly uncomfortable, but I did my best to ignore it. The kitchen was still mostly dark, aside from a single light overhead that illuminated the majority of the room.

I located the blender, trying to decide whether it would be easier to let it mix the spices for me or if I should try to find a mortar and pestle. I guess it would depend on the size of the mortar.

I hummed to myself as I returned to the cabinets. Through pots and pans, I gently sifted, searching for the tool that I was almost certain Chance's family would have. I mean, my own household had one, and Chance's family had practically every utensil known to man. I could probably stumble upon a spork, and no one would bat an eye.

I triumphantly stumbled upon it, all the way in the back of the cabinet.

I went back into the pantry, now searching for dried chilies, guajillo, ancho, or a light amount of chile de arbol, which didn't take long for me to find. Returning to the fridge, I found some of the last of what I needed, which included onions, garlic, and even the oregano I had previously seen. I didn't need the bay leaves yet, but I grabbed them anyway.

Weirdly, the dry spices were not kept in the pantry. I eventually found them in a cabinet above, next to the refrigerator. The salt was almost empty, so I used what I could. Along with it, I found cumin and vinegar.

I'd begin mixing them in the mortar, making sure the mixture was well-blended, before finally pouring it into the pot, which was now bubbling. The water immediately turned an orange-ish red, and the smell of the spices only floated around me even more. I'd begin gently stirring with a ladle until the water was changed entirely. After some time, I finally added the bay leaves. My mother used to tell me that these types of things were added much earlier to broth, but I never tasted the difference.

It was by this point that Chance would return to the kitchen, having changed into something much more casual. Their hair was slightly wet, a sign to me that they had just gotten out of the shower.

"It's almost done, promise." They sat down on the other side of the island where the stoves were placed.

"Tome su tiempo, mi cielo," they'd respond before laying their chin in their arms.

I allowed the broth to simmer with the lid closed on top of the pot while I searched for bowls. Everything was completely uniform, white. Little to no personality was evident in any of the plates, bowls, cups, or mugs that I found stacked and organized neatly in cabinets and drawers. It was unusual.

While my mother did buy matching sets, it was rare that we ever used the ones that went with each other. Only for special occasions, when matching made us look presentable.

"So plain," I muttered.

Chance either didn't hear me or didn't feel like responding.

The most colors I could find were light brown bowls, slightly red-tinted, with minor bumps that told me they were probably handmade. Something about them felt familiar.

"Oh. I haven't seen those in ages." Chance would comment as soon as I placed the bowls onto the island, having washed them.

"Do you not use them often?"

"I don't think we ever have." They perked their head up. "I made them, remember?"

I looked at them again, though no bells were ringing.

"9th grade. It was the first time el maestro let us use the wheel-thingy," they continued. "Even with the wheel, I still couldn't make a perfect circle."

Very vaguely, I could piece things together. That year, the only class Chance and I shared was art. The teacher, who was on the older side, wasn't very strict but wanted to ensure the art equipment remained in good condition. I was never the type to work with clay, much preferring two-dimensional art. Chance, however, had taken every opportunity to work with clay or model on the shitty computers they had in the computer lab.

When I picked a bowl back up, I looked at its underside. Chance's unmistakable signature, loud and proud, starkly contrasts their regular, almost chicken-scratchy handwriting.

"Oh. Well, whaddya' know." I smiled.

I took the lid back off the pot, allowing the smell of spices to engulf the air once again. It smelled okay, so maybe that was a good sign.

Using the ladle I'd used to mix earlier, I began scooping in a portion rich with chicken and hominy, not so much the broth. I didn't know Chance's preferences with this type of food, but I assumed, like most, that the focus was on the actual contents rather than the liquid. I passed it over, which they took very gladly.

"Where are your forks? Or do you prefer a spoon?"

"Hm?" Chance had already gotten out of their chair and was heading back to the pantry. "Well, I mean, you could use forks."

"Could?"

I would hear muffled rustling from inside after they'd walked in. Returning, there was a crinkly bag, completely unopened and filled with what appeared to be hardened tortillas, in their hand.

"What luck! I didn't think we'd actually have any tostadas."

"Do you guys eat pozole often?"

"When I was younger, yeah. But the type our cook would make was the fancy kind with all this other stuff in it. It's good, but not as fun to eat."

Fun to eat? What makes something fun to eat?

For a couple of minutes, Chance taught me how to scoop up the pozole using tostadas. Which was mainly self-explanatory, but they seemed so happy to show me.

It reminded me heavily of my own childhood, where my father would teach me about the things he used to do when he was younger or the types of meals he ate growing up. The familiar smell and taste of dishes like Adobo, or the sweetness of the Turon he'd buy from a market that has long since closed down.

I need to visit him sometime.

Chance helped me clean once we were finished. Like I had predicted, we emptied the entire pot. Dishes were organized exactly where they'd been before, and by the time we were done, the kitchen appeared as if it had never been touched to begin with.

Chance would lead me up to their room, where my eyes would land on a sudden movement that came from the bed, followed by a chirping sound.

Spade.

Had to be a little over three by now. She'd been a fairly new addition to Chance's family by the time we were seniors. She was small then, but from what I could tell from where I stood, she had grown substantially larger than I could've anticipated. If I could recall correctly, they told me she was of the 'Continental Giant' breed. She would have an entirely grey coat if it weren't for the fading to white at the tips of her tail, legs, ears, and a good portion of her underside.

Chance allowed me to walk in first, but once I had, they'd immediately rush over to the mattress. I'd note the small pen in the corner. It would've concerned me because of its underwhelming size, but since the bunny was on their bed, I doubt it was used very much.

Chance would bend over and pick her up, seemingly struggling slightly to do so. Once she was in their arms, I noted that she was larger than Chance's head, even when curled up. It was almost astonishing.

"You remember Spade, don't you?"

"She's bigger than I remember her being," is all I could blurt out.

"She sure is. She's about 20 pounds, last time we checked." Chance held the bunny against their head, cuddling it while it happily reciprocated the gesture. It'd press its own ears into their chin. "And she'll grow even larger as she gets older."

"She seems happy to see you, doesn't she?"

"I would hope so. She gets nothing but attention when I'm home."

I walked closer, catching the attention of the rabbit. I held my hand out in front of it, where it would lean forward and sniff it. After a couple of seconds, it'd press its forehead against my palm.

"She wants you to pet her," Chance told me.

And so I did. Gently, I rubbed my hand up and down against incredibly soft fur. Her ears, leaning slightly back, would continue to press down further as my pets moved from her head and towards the bundle of fur around her neck. There was a subtle sound of grinding teeth, which confused me for a second.

"She's purring," they said.

I looked up at Chance.

"Sounds weird."

"Yeah. It scared me the first couple of times she did that. I thought she was mad, heh."

It wasn't long until Chance put Spade back in the little pen I'd looked at earlier. She was fast asleep, making not so much as a noise or stir when being put down on filling that looked like mulch. Surely, it couldn't have been that comfortable, but Spade seemed completely fine with it.

Chance was covered in fur, with the grey bits contrasting the white shirt they were currently wearing.

Chance sat down on the mattress; meanwhile, I stayed standing in front of them. This wouldn't last long, however, as Chance would soon motion me to come closer. They'd rest their hands against my hips, and they'd quickly snake around me. There was an abrupt tug as they pulled me forward and onto them.

Chance's touch would continue to linger, soon turning into a warm embrace where they pressed their neck over my shoulder for a prolonged period of time. The touch was light and warm, but I couldn't help but feel slightly worried about its suddenness.

I moved my legs around their body, crossing them at the ankles.

"Everything okay?"

I could feel them nod, nudging fabric against my skin.

"Yeah, everything's good. I just missed this a lot." Their voice was more of a mumble, but audible due to the close proximity.

"Missed what, hugging me?"

"Not just that. Seeing you, feeling you." They'd tug harder. "Did you know your skin is cold to the touch?"

"I definitely have been told that a couple of times. Do you not like that?"

"No, it's not that. It's not an icy type of cold. It always reminded me of walking through the ice cream aisle at the grocery store or finally walking inside to feel the air-conditioning after a hot day."

This type of conversation was always commonplace. If there were a love language that depended on praise and compliments, then there's no doubt Chance would have it. 

"Good to know. An interesting contrast considering you're so warm all the time," I responded.

"Really?"

"You didn't know that?"

"Nobody's ever told me."

"It's one of the only things I notice when you hug me."

"Is that bad?"

"No." My arms led under their own, one bent upwards, and I slowly curled my index finger through their hair. "Warmth reminds me of home."

They'd pull their head back.

"What, like, your house? Your room?"

"No, silly. Like the figurative sense. A place that I am the most comfortable at."

"I'm home to you?"

I didn't answer immediately. Guilt was still something that sank deep within me, and it's not something that I could ever truly forgive myself for. However, for the time being, I figured that I should ignore the sentiment. If not for me, then for them.

"I don't think there's anything else that feels more like home to me."

"Well, that's comforting." Chance would say with a relieved sigh.

"What do you mean?"

Chance didn't answer. Instead, they chose to ask something entirely else.

"Would you ever want to get married?"

The question caught me off guard. I pulled back to stare at their face, to see if I could grasp what they were trying to say just by looking at their face.

"Get married? I mean, I've thought about it." My response was rushed, but I tried to control the pace in which I was saying it. I could tell I wasn’t very successful.

"Who would you imagine getting married to?"

"Chance, where is this coming from?"

"It's just a question. Sorry for scaring you." Their demeanor went from something far more serious to now lighthearted in a matter of seconds. It was almost terrifying.

My eyebrows tensed.

"You," I answered.

"Huh?"

"Marriage always felt like an out-of-reach idea to me, but when I did allow myself that tiny bit of blissful unawareness, I always thought about you."

"Have you...thought about it recently?"

My face softened. A smile crept onto my face that I couldn't stop. 

"No, I don't think so. But I can tell that someone else has." I'd gently cup their face in my hand.

"Sorry." Their face reddened, and their gaze refused to make eye contact with me.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"We've only been back together for a week, and I'm already thinking about that type of thing."

I could tell they were getting antsy. A slight pull away from me signified discomfort, but I wasn't really sure what to do. Marriage felt way too sudden. Something that almost scared me. Was I even ready for that? What would even come after?

Moving out, living on our own? Is starting a family even an option? Do I want that?

Being in a relationship is about both of us. What about what they want?

"I agree. It's early for marriage. But that's not to say it's something I'd hate." Chance's posture relaxed as I spoke. "You're afraid of losing me again, aren’t you?"

"More than anything."

"Would it ease your nerves any better to know that, if you were to propose right here and right now, I would say yes?"

"Would you really?"

"Absolutely."

"Can I test how true that is?"

"What?"

Chance didn't push me off of them. More so, they began getting up, and I gradually slipped out of their grasp and onto the bed. I watched in anticipatory silence as they walked over to their nightstand on the other side of the bed. There was a box. One that I hadn't noticed before. It was a quiet black, as if waiting to be seen.

They picked it up, holding it tightly in their hand as they walked back over and sat down beside me.

"Is-...Is that real?"

"As real as you want it to be, mi preciosa."

"When did you even have the time to...get that?"

"You remember the day you ran into iTrapped and me in town?"

The bag.

"You-You had already bought rings, even way back then?"

"More or less." Chance opened the box, revealing a mostly black gemstone sprinkled with vibrant red speckles, set on a rose gold ring. It immediately reminded me of their eyes. "I originally had bought something for my mother. You know how she is."

The gemstone was carved into the unmistakable shape of a heart. It was large, but not large enough to look out of place against the band, which was no thicker than an inch. Maybe no thicker than three millimeters. The band's design was almost like vines, clinging onto the gemstone as if it were delicate enough to fall at any moment. I would also notice that much more solid black gemstones aligned the band from the sides of the center. They were much smaller in comparison, with two separate gems on both sides.

"However, on my way out, my attention was caught by their painite collection. A very rare gemstone, you see." It reminded me of magma. "The red immediately reminded me of you, but I was hesitant."

I continued to admire the ring as Chance spoke. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, truly.

"As luck would have it, the manager has business with my family. And so, I was easily able to get in contact with him to get something special made."

"But when did you actually decide to get the ring?"

"Later that same day. I was actually texting him when I came over to your house."

Well, fuck. All that time I'd spent worrying about iTrapped, meanwhile, they were already thinking about asking me to marry them.

"I...I don't even know what to say..."

"Well, 'yes' would be preferred. You promised."

"Not about that, silly. You haven't even asked properly. I mean, about how you'd been so sure all this time."

"I thought I made it pretty clear when I came to the pizzeria for the first time last week."

Chance would finally push themselves to the floor and on one knee. I can't say my fantasies ever happened inside their room, much less with them in their pajamas, but somehow this felt more perfect than anything I could've envisioned. It suited them, suited us.

There was a slight shake in their hands as they held the open box up to me.

"Ellie, I want to stay by your side forever. I can't think of anything better than waking up by your side every morning for the rest of my life." Their voice was slightly shaky, but honest. "I've never felt more sure about my future than I am now, and I want you to remain a part of it."

They paused, shifting their posture to be more straight, slightly more formal. They'd clear their throat until finally...

"Can I...ask for your hand in marriage? Could you promise to trust me even when things begin to feel tough again?"

"Chance..."

"Por favor, tesoro. I don't want to have to walk away like I did that day. It hurt." Their eyes began to fill with tears, but they did their best to wipe them away with their arm.

"Yes. I promise." I pushed myself onto the floor and immediately pulled them close. They'd begin to cry into my shoulder, teeth gritted and sniffling into my uniform that I'd almost forgotten I was wearing.

As I continued to hold them, they'd grab my hand and put the ring on my finger. They'd rub their thumb over the area, as if to solidify the feeling for them.

"I love you." They muffled, still crying but now more subdued.

"I love you, too."

Chapter Text

December 18th. Wingman.

Mia was the first to notice the next morning. I'd showered at Chance's place, then took a quick run to my house to grab a change of uniform. The ring was nestled neatly onto my finger, fitting perfectly. I was almost surprised. I'd never told Chance my ring size, nor did I have many rings of my own. From the appearance of our hands, my fingers were far slimmer than their own. Dumb luck?

"What's that?" Mia asked as I walked past the couch. He was sitting on the floor, drawing on a piece of paper laid out on the coffee table.

"What's what?" I genuinely didn't know what he was referring to. I figured that the ring was too far and too small to notice. "Something on my face?"

"No." He pointed towards my hand. "On your finger. Your...ring finger."

"Oh, uh-"

"Wait. Lemme see it." He hastily got up from the floor and rushed over. He immediately grabbed my hand and began inspecting it.

"..." What does one even say in this type of situation? I mean, it's not like I was trying to hide it.

"Is this what I think it is?" 

"What do you think it is?"

"An engagement ring. She actually did it!" His face beamed, seemingly far more excited about the ring than I probably looked getting it. 

"What? You knew?"

"Of course, I knew." He let go of my hand. "Who do you think gave Chance the ring size?"

"And just how do you know it?"

"Waiting for you or Mom to get home is boring. I have to do something to keep myself occupied." 

"You snooped through my room?"

"Hey, hey, it worked out, didn't it!"

I crossed my arms, watching as Mia slowly took a couple of steps back to create the most distance, just in case I felt like 'getting him back for that'. But instead, I huffed and began walking away.

"So you're not mad?" He asked, voice still cautious.

"I guess not." I turned my head. "But if I find out you're snooping again, I'm putting a lock on that damn door."

"Aw, man!"

I continued down to my room, where I quickly looked through my drawers for a clean copy of the uniform I'd stuffed into my bag. As I finished getting ready, I couldn't help but stare into my closet for just a moment too long. Chance had said we were going out shopping this Saturday. I figured that we were going out dancing and that was all we were going for, but looking at my messy stash of clothes, some hung on a rack, and others having had fallen onto the floor ages ago, I realized something.

I hadn't actually gone out looking for clothes in ages.

Most of what was still in there were all the same outfits, shirts, jeans, and shoes that I'd had since I was in high school.

Of course, there were some new things. I had a small collection of dresses, and the undergarments were relatively new, especially considering that I now needed to shop for bras. Still, everything else was from a time that now felt so distant.

I could donate some things. Make space for other things to wear. Perhaps if there were time, we could go looking for more casual clothes. I could start being more feminine. More natural. That sounds nice.

Chance didn't come over that afternoon, nor did they stay the night. On my break, the two of us spent the entire time texting, and I learned that their parents asked them to head to the casino all day, and they weren't sure how long they'd have to be there. I didn't worry. There was no need to. Plus, it actually gave me time to go through my clothes as I planned. 

For once, I felt at ease, and there were no strings attached. Things felt certain.

Chapter Text

December 19th. Remembrance with a touch of healing.

My mom didn't find out about the engagement until after Mia did. In a way, I almost felt bad. She honestly should've been the first to know, but I hadn't really seen her. I felt this had to be told in person.

I woke up pretty early, mainly because I had gone to bed so early. She was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee held close to her mouth as she took small sips. She seemed to be lost in thought, but was immediately pulled out of it when I walked out of the hallway.

She smiled, a tired smile but one that still felt natural and welcoming.

"Can I see it?" She said. This time, I figured out immediately what was being referred to. She came home when I was out at the local donation center, so I figured Mia told her the news far quicker than I had.

I walked over and sat next to her on one of the stools. I held my hand out towards her as she put down the cup. She'd brush her thumb over the ring, slowly, as if savoring its appearance.

My mother still wears her wedding ring to this very day. I don't think I've ever seen her with it off, actually. It was much more traditional in appearance, but I'd heard from my father long ago that it was passed down from his side of the family for generations. It was one of the reasons why they were so quick to get married. Had he not announced my mother as his fiancée, the ring likely would've gone to one of his siblings. It was sweet.

"You know, I always thought I would pass down my own ring for when you'd propose to someone." She pressed her ringed finger next to her mind, a bittersweet comparison. 

The rings could not be any more different, from the gemstones to the shapes. Hers felt regal and far more fancy than anything I could feel safe owning. I'd constantly be worried about losing it, which was funny, considering that my own ring was worth probably around the same amount, if not more.

"As pretty as I think it is, I'm just not sure it's very 'me', if that makes sense."

She chuckled, seemingly understanding exactly what I meant.

"I do think that Chance chose something that very well reflects you. Perhaps I'll see if Mia wants mine."

"I think you should keep it." I didn't want to speak on behalf of my little brother, but I was unsure of just how excited he'd be to inherit the ring. I mean, to this day, I'd never once heard him even talk about a crush. "Keep some of Dad with you."

"You two allow me to keep much more of him with me every day." She clasped our hands together. "I see so much of him, especially in you."

"Well, I did get his blond hair, didn't I?"

For a moment, I was reminded of my plans to visit him.

"It's interesting. Even when you were so young, you always resembled him in the way a little girl would resemble her father." She hummed. "It's almost like nature knew far quicker than even you had."

I leaned my head against her shoulder, taking in the quietness that followed her remark. 

"Is any of this disappointing to you?" It came out lower than I intended.

"Hm? Absolutely not. Don't you ever think that." She moved her free hand behind us and over my shoulder. She'd press the side of her face against the top of my head. "I am so proud to call you my daughter. Your life is your own, and any decision you make is something I'll support you on."

"Even if it's a bad decision?"

"I want to allow you to learn things on your own." She rubbed her hand up and down my side. "But if there's ever a time I believe your decision is so detrimental that it will not only hurt you, but others, I'll step in."

I nodded.

"So, when's the wedding?" She asked, her softened face replaced with something slightly more smug.

"Mm...not for a while. Chance wanted something more permanent than promise rings, but I don't think either of us is ready to plan out something as big as that."

"So you two plan on staying engaged for a while?"

"Yeah. I'd say so."

"Good. Neither of you is in a rush. You'll make better choices that way."

"How was your wedding?"

"Simple. Very simple. Obviously, we didn't have the business then. I argued for a simple court-type-of-thing." She sighed. "But your father was so adamant about having something proper, even if we didn't have much of a budget for it."

"Sounds like him."

"Y'know, I'd have to show you my wedding dress sometime. I think you'll like it."

"We can tomorrow, if you want. Chance and I are supposed to go out, but we can squeeze in something."

"Alright. Tomorrow, then."

She soon left for work. She was off to one of our locations further away. It'd be a while until I had to go, so in the meantime, I returned to my room.

I lay flat against my bed, feeling as if my heart was doing somersaults inside my chest. I was excited, but also scared. Not the bad type of scared, though, if that even existed.

I turned, beginning to hug my pillow. 

I could cry, not out of sadness or any single negative emotion. Tears filled with joy, rather than sorrow. Rather than regret.

I’d prefer that.

Chapter Text

December 20th. The day that was deeply anticipated.

"It should be just back here." 

My mother's voice was muffled as the sound of fabric grew louder. The scratching of hangers against the wooden rack could be heard, and I sat on her bed merely waiting.

"Here we are!" She finally said, and I could hear as she pulled what I assumed was the dress off where it hung.

"I'm not sure about how well it's gonna fit, but there's always alterations when the time comes.”

She walked out holding a dress that wasn't the traditional white but a warm cream color. The silhouette felt true to the time, with an off-the-shoulder collar that fell into puffy sleeves hidden under ruffles. The bodice, perfectly fitted to my mom's form, was mainly simple, except for a soft floral design in thread. That same design would continue into the lower half, which was comprised of two visibly distinct layers, one that lay above the other, cut shorter and lined with more ruffles at the bottom. Meanwhile, the other one underneath was much simpler and balanced the design out as it reached the floor. It was slightly see-through at its tips, revealing an under that enforced its shape.

"There was also a veil, which I'm sure I could find. But, what do you think?"

"It's beautiful."

She smiled.

"I'm glad you like it. Of course, we can make some changes. Not just in how it fits, but even some of the design parts. I can see that it's probably not very modern."

"No, I don't think that's an issue at all. Modern wedding dresses are pretty and all, but I don't know how I feel about wearing one." I stood up. "Perhaps when I do get it fitted, there might be some things I'd wanted added. But looking at it right now, I don't think there's anything I want to remove."

I walked up and took the dress out of her hands. The feeling was unmistakably satin. Its smoothness and shiny appearance had solidified that fact for me long before I touched it, but it was still something I'd noticed. I figured it'd pair nicely with Chance's own style. I'd assume their attire on the day of the wedding wouldn't change much from what they usually wear.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

I checked my phone and noticed it was a little early for Chance and me to head out. I looked towards my mom, who merely shrugged.

"Didn't you say you weren't leaving for another hour or so?" She asked, taking the dress back by its hanger and walking over to put it back in its place.

"That's what I thought." I made my way out of the room and down to the front door. As I peered through the peephole, I saw Chance standing idly just a couple of feet away. They seemed to be temporarily occupied by their phone, but peered their attention to the door as soon as I unlocked it.

"You're early."

"That I am. Sorry. I was getting bored, so I figured I'd swing by now instead of later." They shrugged. "I can just sit on the couch if you're not ready yet."

"I just need a couple of minutes, that's all. Make yourself at home."

"I always do."

Chance followed me inside, collapsing backwards onto the couch as I continued onwards towards the hallway. On my way, I passed by with my mother, who didn't stop until I could hear the conversation between the two, which muffled until I could no longer hear them when I stepped into the bathroom.

My attention was immediately brought towards the mirror, where I could watch as I pulled out the hair-tie that kept my hair messily in place. It'd fall quickly, straight with a slight wave from the forced shape. My hair was always straight, like my Mom's. It was Mia who got my Dad's slight texture, but he had always preferred to straighten it.

I mixed it up slightly, making sure it didn't look too unkempt, before putting on makeup.

Because the pizzeria was always humid and I typically left slightly sweaty, I never really put myself together for work. It was easier that way. It was so rare that I actually got to put on makeup, so I always kept it simple—light mascara, lip gloss, blush, that kind of thing.

Before leaving, I straightened out my clothes. What I was wearing was far more layered than what I was used to. Underneath a short, vibrant red plaid dress was a white turtleneck, which matched the thick white corduroy jacket that I remembered leaving in my room. 

My legs were clean-shaven, something that I had also been neglecting for some time now. But I figured it would be better since I didn't exactly have tights. Instead, I had short white socks that had two red lines of varying shades on the top. As for my shoes, I was almost embarrassed to say they were the ones I wore to work every day. Could you blame me, though? They're nice enough and match practically everything I own.

I like red. Dark brown matches red.

When I walked back out, I made a quick detour into my room to grab the aforementioned jacket, along with the satchel I usually wore. It was practically empty today, lacking the usual necessities I needed for work. All I needed today was my wallet, my keys, and my phone.

I walked back into the living room and saw that Chance and my mother were still engaged in conversation.

"Ah, well, there she is." My mom said, moving her gaze over to me. She'd get up before speaking again. "You two have fun now."

She walked up to me, patting my shoulder and lowering her voice.

"Text me if anything happens, okay? The news said tonight's snowfall might be tougher than the past couple of weeks."

"Okay, I will."

Chance followed me out.

As we began walking, I felt as if their hand would rest at my waist. It was underneath my jacket, only separated from my skin because of the thin plaid.

"It's been a while since I've seen you so dressed up."

"You're not too bad yourself. Somehow, we always seem to match."

Chance was wearing a dark red sweater over a white button-up. It was much simpler, perhaps even casual, but the rarity of this type of attire made it feel almost special. It fell over black slacks, with the folds of the white button-up showing slightly underneath the sweater. Of course, it was accompanied by the typical fedora, sunglasses, and headphones combo that wouldn't be Chance without them.

"It's easy when I know you're always gonna wear red."

"Well, maybe I should try out something else. Keep you on your toes?"

"I think red suits you the best. But, ultimately, it's your decision." They'd kiss the crook of my neck.

Most of the walk was spent in silence. It wasn't until we made it into town that I spotted the flower shop and was immediately reminded of what else I needed to do today.

"Hey, can we stop by and get some flowers real quick?" I pulled away from their grasp, replacing it with my own hand into theirs.

"What for?"

"I, uh, wanted to visit my dad today."

"Oh. Okay. Can I come with?"

"To see my dad?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, if you want. I can't imagine how interesting that'd be for you."

"It's your dad. I can't say I remember him much, but I know how important he is to you."

This flower shop was special, not just in the fact that it was the only one in town for miles, but also in that at almost every point in time, they seemed to have unlimited amounts of flowers. Many of which weren't even in season.

The shop's owner was not someone I was well acquainted with, even though I had swung by a fair amount of times. We'd had limited conversation, from which I'd been able to gather some information about them.

For starters, they seemed to be part deer, with tall antlers and droopy, unmistakably fluffy ears.

Today, I noticed that they were sitting at the front desk. They seemed to be situating one of their plants inside a pot, clearly struggling to fit it in.

"Oh, hey." I heard Chance say from behind. "LonelyTree, right?"

I was more confused than anything. All this time I spent trying to find out even just a little bit of their name, and here comes Chance waltzing in as if they've known the guy for years!

"Huh? Ellernate, is that you?" The shop owner, who I guess was named 'LonelyTree', responded.

"Wouldn't be the first time one of iTrapped's friends mistook me for him." They sighed.

I let go of their hand and continued walking. It was less about mentioning iTrapped and more about wanting as much time as I could to pick something out for my father. While it wasn't uncommon for me to bring flowers, I don't think it ever got easier picking them. While I tried to put as much thought as I could into what I bought each time, I somehow always felt that I could've been far more careful about my selection. Roses weren't sufficient anymore.

The selection was daunting. Everything was so neatly organized that it truly outlined just how much was being sold. I'd traverse through some of the sections, considering each and every flower that I could find.

"Did you know that certain flowers have meaning?" Chance's voice startled me. "Whoops. Didn't mean to scare you. You heard what I said, right?"

I nodded.

"You can tell quite a bit about someone based on their flower of preference. Even if they don't care much for what it meant in the first place." They continued.

"What, so it's like astrology?"

"Kind of. I'd say flowers are a much better representation of a person's character, though."

"What does this flower say?" I pointed towards one completely random. It was red in appearance and had petals that stacked onto each other, creating tiny holes within its pattern. Looking at the label tagged onto the container, it read 'Dahlia.'

"Buena opción, mi cariña. Dahlias, during the Victorian era, often symbolized commitment."

"Love?"

"Yes, love. Eternal love, to be more specific."

"Do they all mean something like that?"

"What, like romantic?" I nodded in response. "Well, no. Just like how astrology can tell you good qualities and bad ones, flowers can mean wonderful things, but also represent burdens or warnings."

"Well, any suggestions for my dad's gravestone?"

"Hm." They thought for a moment. Placing their finger to their chin, their eyes darted around the area until, almost visibly, a lightbulb went off in their head. "How do you feel about poisonous plants?"

"What?"

Without giving me an answer, they grabbed my hand and dragged me to a different aisle. This specific area was marked with softer-looking flowers, small, most white or at least lightly complected. Some I recognized, such as Baby's Breath and Chamomiles, but others were far more indistinct to me.

"Let's see now...Ah, here." Chance pulled a handful of flowers from a bunch that was marked 'Hemlock.'

The flowers, at the tips of smaller stems that dispersed from a much larger and much longer stem abundant with leaves, stood tall and almost proud when Chance picked them up. It seemed practically unassuming to the point where I wouldn't expect it to be poisonous. But somehow, at the same time, it actually made perfect sense. It was clear that Chance was being careful of where to touch it, maintaining as little contact with it as possible.

"Hemlock?"

"Hemlocks alone merely mean just death, which sounds rather morbid. But, paired with...what was it..." They trailed off, looking toward the plants that seemed more like herbs than flowers. "Nettle, it changes its meaning into something you would give to a loved one."

I immediately spotted where they were looking. A leafy vine that held small, practically invisible, flowers that were bunched up together from branches out of the stem. 

"Why do you know this, exactly?"

"Well, originally, I learned about certain flowers being used as good luck charms."

"Should've known."

"Wait, wait! That's not all. Don't you remember the flowers I used to give you back in high school?"

"You mean the bouquets?"

"Yes, those ones."

"Well, of course I do. Every single time, it was the same assortment of flowers. Always tied together with a red thread."

"Well, the flower arrangement wasn't exactly random."

"They actually meant something?"

"Of course they did. What, did you think I just put together whatever I felt like and gave it to you?"

"Well, not exactly. If the arrangement was important enough to be the same every time, surely it meant something. I just thought it was less arbitrary and more based on the fact that you thought I would like the flowers."

"Well, did you?"

"Remind me again what they were?"

"Roses, Cornflowers, Sweet Williams, and Honeysuckles." They said with assurance.

"Right. I remember the roses specifically because they were always a light pink. That, and the sweet williams, only because I thought they looked odd."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Not a bad kind of odd. They reminded me of targets."

"Weird comparison, but I can see it."

"Moving on. As interested as I am in your extensive knowledge of flowers, I'm not sure how keen I am on giving my dad poisonous ones. Not to mention, the wild animals that pass through the cemetery."

"Hm. I suppose you're right. Want something more traditional?"

"I guess, yeah. I usually get him some variation of roses, but I never felt like they were good enough."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy whatever you gave him."

"Perhaps. But there's always that feeling, y'know?"

We continued our search. 

"What's your favorite flower?" Chance asked as we walked past yet another aisle.

"Never really thought about it. You?"

"Clovers."

"Seriously? Does that hardly even qualify as a flower?"

"Well, the little white part that blooms does."

"I guess that's true. But still. Is luck really the only reason you like them?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Aren't flowers supposed to, y'know, be pretty?"

"That type of thing doesn't really matter to me. Whether something is pretty or not doesn't make much of a difference if I like something in the first place."

"What about me? Am I not pretty?" I realized how self-centered those words came out after I said them. "Crap. Never mind. You...You don't have to answer that."

"I think you're very pretty. One of the most beautiful things I've ever seen." Chance reached out and grabbed a bunch of flowers that I actually recognized.

Poppies.

"Oh. Uhm..."

"Think of it this way. I've liked you for a long time, and that type of love wouldn't just disappear, whether or not I thought you were pretty. Me being attracted to you is far different from that." They held out a collection of a few poppies towards me.

"So even if you thought I was ugly, you'd stay." I took them.

"I don't think it's possible to ever see you as ugly. You're the closest thing to perfect that ever was."

"Oh, well, now you're just saying things."

"I think you should start trying to see yourself as perfect, too." A one off sentence that left as quick as it came.

Those words stuck with me longer than they should've. Even as we walked to the front desk to pay and I watched LonelyTree and Chance engage in light, friendly conversation. Even as we travelled from department store to department store throughout the day. Even as we stopped by a cafe to get lunch before continuing to shop for even more clothes.

I'd done so mostly absentmindedly and guided by wherever Chance's hand led me. The clothes we'd put together, even up to what I was supposedly wearing to this mystery event, were all a blur, and I still couldn't pinpoint anywhere close to a complete consensus of what would be happening in a couple of days. I had no more knowledge that I had before, but there was something odd that stood out to me in particular.

A mask?

By the time the sun was beginning to set, we were both holding armfuls of fancy bags that would be a fun surprise to open when I eventually got home.

"Are you still up for going to the cemetery this late?" I asked as we were walking out of the town's square.

"Yeah. Mind if we drop these off, though?"

"That's probably best. It'd be awkward carrying these in the middle of a graveyard."

And so we did. We headed inside for a brief moment to a desolate home. My mother was not home, nor was Mia, so I assumed that they had gone out for dinner or something for the time being.

Once everything was situated, I made sure the poppies I'd tried to place neatly into my bag were still in good condition. When they were, we began our walk to the cemetery.

Everything in town was within walking distance. Well, if you had enough time, anything could be within walking distance. Point being, we'd be walking along the sidewalk for roughly ten minutes until we finally made it across the familiar gate that expanded into hundreds of gravestones, all built differently, adorned differently, but mostly by themselves. Not too many people were very keen on seeing deceased loved ones at this hour.

I knew the path to my father's grave like the back of my hand. It was slightly off the main path, but smaller paths had been carved into the snow simply because people walked along them so often.

As I stood in front of it, I knelt down. Chance quickly followed my lead before securing my hand within their own.

I don't really talk while I'm at my dad's grave. I understand it's a relatively common thing to do, perhaps by people hoping they'll get an answer one day. It makes me feel all the more lonely. Staying quiet, staring at his name, somehow felt far more comforting than trying to talk to someone I know can't respond.

"I have something to confess." Chance began, looking towards me, but not facing me.

"Is it bad?"

"I don't think it is."

"What is it?"

"I came by here the other day." They squeezed my hand.

"To see my dad?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I wanted to do it right. Proposing, I mean."

For a moment, I didn't understand. It should've been easy to understand, but maybe I wasn't thinking correctly. To me, proposing didn't need to be this whole ceremony or even have a 'proper method'. Chance's proposal was calm, with no big event. 

"I know I didn't know him as well as I probably could've. Granted, I didn't even talk to him really until he was diagnosed." There was a slight pause, perhaps them trying to think of how to continue. "But I wanted to ask him if I even had the right to marry you."

"You didn't have to do that." My tone was soft, coming with a sense of understanding that I couldn't really dismiss despite my words.

"But I wanted to. I asked all of your family."

"My mom?"

"She's the first one who knew. She didn't tell you?"

"Not a word. I guess that explains why she asked me to see the ring, even if I didn't tell her."

Even still, that didn't tell me how exactly she knew when Chance would propose. Everything felt like a whim.

"Weirdly, your dad was the last person I asked."

"How'd you know his gravestone?"

"I didn't. I assumed that he was buried here, as it's the only cemetery nearby, but I spent maybe an hour searching through every single gravestone, looking through every single name, trying to find it."

"Again, I say, you didn't have to do that."

"I couldn't just ask the rest of your family and not him. I had to, no matter how long it took."

I stared deeply into the words on the grave. Not because I was reading them, but more so because I was lost in thought.

It was weird. It felt strange to have someone go to such lengths for me. From a ring that was created specifically for me and for no other person in the world, to going as far as asking my father, who's been dead for years at this point, for permission to give me said ring.

In a way, it made me feel inadequate.

I'd spent so long doubting that their devotion would prevail over all the mishaps and uncontrollable circumstances that came with me simply being me. And for what? To risk losing the person who meant so much to me in the first place?

It wouldn't hurt them whether I were a boy or a girl. All that mattered to them was that I loved them.

I didn't even have to show it. They knew all the same.

I took the poppies out of my bag and laid them at the base of the stone. They suited nicely, contrasting the white of frosted grass with its bright red pigment.

I lightly nudged the snow and dust off, leaving the grave clean and looking unbothered. I slightly leaned my head forward, taking in for a moment the coldness of sitting outside in an area that was covered by trees. I leaned further enough to lay a light kiss on the top of the grave. A silent, short one, before I’d return to the warmth of Chance's hand. They hadn't said anything more, merely remaining by my side, watching as I did whatever typical ritual it was while visiting my father. It was quiet, aside from the wind blowing past us, not loud enough to be a howl but not low enough to be a whisper.

I could start doing this more often, instead of just once a year. It'd probably be better.

I was first to stand up, my eyes lidded and staring downwards.

Chance followed my lead, and the two of us would leave in silence.

Chance wouldn't say anything until we were well past the gate at the entrance and walking along the sidewalk once again.

"Are you okay?"

I looked towards them, moving my hand between theirs into intertwined fingers instead of just a hold.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I hummed. "Can I stay over tonight?"

I didn't plan on asking. It was an in-the-moment decision.

Chance nodded as a response.

"Yeah, of course. Any reason why?"

"I just don't feel like going home tonight."

"Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing like that." It was true, really. Nothing had happened.

They didn't press on further; they only followed my lead as we continued toward their house, as we had a couple of days ago.

Only until I walked inside did I pull my phone out from my bag and type in a single message confirming to my mother that I would not be returning home for the night. It was read almost immediately, but received no answer. Nothing unusual for her. It merely meant she was not worried.

The two of us walked to their room, where, after they walked in, I sat back on the bed.

They closed the door, a habit, whether or not their parents were home, before walking closer to me.

"Y'know, it's funny," I said, pulling off my jacket.

"What's funny?" They responded.

"I spent all this time worrying about how you felt that I only ended up making it worse for you."

"Ellie..."

"No, I don't mean it in a self-deprecating way. I think it feels kind of ironic." I pulled my shoes off and pushed them aside with my feet. "All that time wasted, when we could've stayed together all this time and be so much further along."

"I wouldn't think of it that way."

"But I think you should." I began pulling off my jacket, then pushed it away. "I guess in the back of my brain, I was waiting for some sort of proof from you that I should've never even needed in the first place."

Chance was watching my every movement. 

"A proof of what?" They asked.

"I don't really know. Proof that you love me? Proof that you'd stay with me, maybe."

"Did I never show that?"

"That's the thing. You showed it to me plenty. Maybe I was just too wrapped in my own head and feelings of self-doubt that I failed to realize that." I stood back up and moved closer to them. "In hindsight, that was very selfish of me."

I gently grabbed their wrists with both hands. They reciprocated the hold immediately, clasping their own hands around my wrist in a position that almost felt awkward. But then again, maybe I should value that awkwardness.

I looked up at the sunglasses they had yet to have been taken off. Their eyes were solely and completely focused on me.

“Well, everyone needs to be a little selfish.”

“But I hurt you because of it.”

“But it’s all in the past now, querida. I mean, we’re engaged now.”

I smiled faintly. I think I was finally beginning to accept things. Maybe not forgetting them, but understanding that all that matters is that time is still moving. They’re still here and fully willing to stay.

I took a deep breath. 

I held it in for a moment or two before finally letting go.

Chapter Text

December 21st. A trip down memory lane.

"Whatever happened to all the things I gave you?"

Chance was sitting on my bed. In their hands was one of the cat plushies that had been sitting at my desk since Chance reunited them. The one they were holding was the one with a rainbow collar, while its red counterpart sat against the pillow next to them.

"From high school?" I turned. I had just gotten out of the shower and was still putting on a shirt.

"Yeah. The ones for your birthday and stuff."

"In my closet." I turned back.

"All of them?" I'd hear rustling of the bedsheets before sliding and the quiet thud of feet gently hitting the ground.

"More or less. I mean, aside from books and clothes." I brushed my fingers through my hair, trying to rid it of knots instead of trying to find a comb. “Not to mention, it’s not like those flowers would last this long.”

Chance walked over to my closet.

"They should all be in the box." I continued.

They kneeled, looking into the darkness until, seemingly, they found what they were looking for and pulled it out.

"This one?"

When I walked over, I saw that the box they'd pulled out was the one I'd been talking about. It'd been in there for ages and was probably covered in dust.

I didn't put all the things in there out of anger or spite. Likely trying to force myself to move on in some way, or to quicken the process at least. Each gift was unique in some way, unless it was something given on a whim or a purchase they'd made for me when we went out to the store or to concerts we used to go to together.

"That should be it."

I sat down next to them, watching as they ran their finger through the gap of the folds and pulled the box open.

"Well, would you look at that." They mumbled.

They began rummaging, as if looking for something in particular. The whole process made me feel uneasy. These were all things that I hadn't looked at in years, and the memories of ever receiving them had been vaulted into the back of my brain. 

Some things I could see, but other things were so deep in the box that the light barely illuminated them. Chance and I both covered the main light in the center of the ceiling with where we sat.

Chance would pause momentarily, before pulling out a small box, no bigger than their hand, that was unmarked and unlabeled.

“I suppose you never played with these, did you?” They slowly opened the box.

It was cards. Playing cards, to be exact. If I recall correctly, it was the gift they’d given to me on our second anniversary, despite it being a little late. The reason it was late was because it had been a special deck of playing cards, with only one copy ever created.

Most casinos have special decks that correspond with the theme of that specific casino. Chance’s family had rose themed ones, that matched the decor and high-society appearance that you could be wrapped in upon stepping inside. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve never actually stepped foot into that place.

However, because of this little fact, Chance’s family had business ties with some of the best card manufacturers there are. Many of them only still exist today because of their family. It was only a matter of time before Chance decided to take advantage of this, and behind their parents' backs would ask the current manufacturer of the rose-themed cards they’d become so familiar with to make a special deck for me.

For months, they’d ask little questions, all of which seemingly unrelated due to how much time was between them. Every response was written down shortly after I’d said them, and formulated into the specialized card set that was made only for me.

When I received them, I was more touched by the fact they’d spent so much time and effort to get me something like this. It was more about the gesture than the cards themselves. Card games were only something I ever played with Chance. I had no real interest in them aside from thinking that certain decks I’d stumbled upon were pretty.

The cards were sealed after I’d looked through them. Admiring that every single one was hand-drawn , a specific request Chance had made, and one of the bigger reasons why the gift was a couple weeks late. I had no real reason to open them again, as we’d always used the same typical decks when Chance was bored enough to grab a box from their school bag and practically beg me for just ‘one game’ before lunch would end. It was more of a shared ritual, rather than something I deliberately seeked out to do on my own.

“Card games were more our thing than just mine, y’know?”

“I guess you’re right. Maybe it’s better that they’re still in great condition.”

They continued down the box, pulling out certain things and setting them off to the side without saying a word. It was probably just so they could rummage further in without damaging anything or having things fall over. The box itself was pretty big, not to mention pretty heavy. Despite the strength I’d accumulated over the course of working at the pizzeria, I'd even struggled a bit to push the box into the corner that Chance had found it in.

I leaned against Chance’s side as they continued, which soon turned into their hand wrapping around my body yet still forward enough to continue looking around in the box.

“Oh, wow.” I heard them say, which brought me out of the leaning that could’ve put me to sleep at any moment.

“What did you find?” I said through a yawn.

“I didn’t think you actually kept the letters.”

“The letters?”

They pulled one out, a piece of slightly crumpled paper that had been stuck to an envelope using tape. It was intentional, but I’m not entirely sure why I chose to stick the paper on the envelope instead of stuffing it back inside. It made it easier to read later on, I suppose.

They continued, pulling out stacks at a time. By the time they stopped, there were probably more than 20, each marked with specific dates in an ombre of warm colors that I knew was intentional on their part. Some came with store bought birthday cards or holiday ones, but as the days got later and later into our relationship, they were replaced with wholly handwritten messages in Chance’s notably sloppy handwriting.

Each contained a note that was entirely theirs, paragraphs they’d likely spent hours making with great emotion.

I read every single one of them, and for the longest time they were kept in the drawer next to my bed. Sometimes, late at night, during one of the few times they didn’t ask to sleep over, I’d read them in the dark with only my lamp allowing me to see the writing.

I remembered those times fondly. Tracing my finger against each line, remembering the weird way they wrote certain letters. The odd way that their words would get bigger and smaller as they passed from line to line.

“Why wouldn’t I keep them?” I asked, snuggling closer into them as I watched them look through a randomly grabbed paper.

“I assumed you never really liked them.” They shrugged.

“What? Why?” I pushed myself up, now facing them head-on.

“I dunno. You’d always stuff them away in your bag after I gave them to you. Sometimes, you’d never even open it in front of me.” They put the letter down, proceeding to grab another. 

There wasn’t a hint of anger in their voice, only the lace of slight sadness.

“Fuck, did I really do that?”

“Only sometimes. It’s kind of why I stopped writing them.”

They’re right. For some time, the letters had become a more frequent occurrence and not just on special events. However, as time progressed, it returned back to the event-to-event basis. The effort was still there, only much harder to come by. The timing was poor, though, as the letters became more and more uncommon around the time that I was discovering things about myself. Maybe, in a way, I internalized that. Perhaps subconsciously, I saw proof that I needed to leave.

“Well, crap. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, I know that now.” Their mouth turned slightly upward into a weak grin. “Sure, I wish I would’ve known sooner, but I know how you are.”

“Still. I should’ve been more open about it.” I turned my head down slightly to stare at the letters still scattered around. “If it helps, though, I did read them all.”

“You did?”

“Every single one. Sometimes, I’d even fall asleep with them still in my hands.” I chuckled.

“I’m surprised you could even read them. My handwriting was horrible. I mean, it still is, but this is way worse.”

“Some words were hard, but at the end of the day, you wrote them out of love.” I finally grabbed one, beginning to trace the edges of the paper. “I even started to miss them for a while.”

Chance set aside the paper they’d been holding and proceeded to wrap their other arms around me to pull me close. Their hands were connected near my stomach as their legs wrapped around to the space underneath my thighs. I was facing away from them.

“That’s a relief.”

“Hm? How come?”

“I might’ve continued writing them…even after we broke up.” They pressed their chin near the crook of my neck.

“What!? Why?”

“Habit, maybe. At the time, I never really had any actual intention of giving them to you. That’d be weird.”

“Well, you did decide to find me after work.”

“Well, imagine you started receiving random love letters from your ex. At least that was in person.”

“I guess you’re right.” I tilted my head against theirs. “Can I read them one day?”

“If you really want to.”

As Chance continued looking through the box, I collected all of the letters and stood back up. After walking over to my bed, I placed the letters back in the drawer they’d been in long ago. 

They took up quite a bit of space, but even still, I managed.

After all, they were important

Chapter Text

December 22nd. A not so rush hour.

“Doing anything this Christmas?” Sally and I were both in the kitchen today. He’d been kneading the dough all afternoon while I handled the toppings.

“I think so.” I had absentmindedly responded, currently preoccupied by the pepperoni that seemed to be sticking together more than usual. I’d have to make a note to get new supplies soon.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. My fiancé planned something, but she still hasn’t told me what it is yet.” Still preoccupied.

“Ack, I still can’t believe you’re engaged.”

Sally learned the day after it happened, almost immediately noticing the ring on my finger when he walked in and saw me setting up one of the cash registers. He wouldn’t stop asking questions, nagging and nagging (despite how annoying it sounded, he’s actually quite funny when he’s like this) until he finally got the information out of me.

“I’ll be sure to invite you to the wedding.”

“You better! Are you two planning on doing something big? I mean, you and her are loaded!”

“We haven’t really discussed that type of thing yet.”

“Shouldn’t you start?”

“We don’t plan on getting married anytime soon. Chance just wanted things to be…what’s the word…”

“Set in stone?” Sally pushed another finished spread of dough my way, briefly glancing at the overhead board that read out the orders needed.

“That’s three words, but yeah, pretty much.”

“Promise rings not enough?”

“I said the same thing. But, Chance is anything but the type to think things thoroughly." I finished up the pizza I was working on and quickly walked over to put it into the oven.

“Well, she does have quite the reputation at the casino.”

“Is it really that bad?” I proceeded by taking out a finished one and sending it down the conveyor belt.

“You really don’t know? Surely, you’ve been with her!”

“She knows I’m not really the type. She always tells me when she’s going, though.” I started the next pizza. This time, only cheese.

“Only the richest people ever try to gamble with her! I’m pretty sure she’s amassed a five-year long winning streak.”

Hearing things about my own fiancé from someone who hardly knows them is definitely something. Though, I wouldn’t doubt what Sally was telling me. Chance’s extraordinary luck is definitely something to be interested in.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’ve even heard rumors that the infamous Sonnelino family has been looking to bring out their boss to play against her.”

Sally was beginning to sound more like a tabloid magazine article, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t worry me slightly.

“The Sonnelinos? Why them of all people? Where’d you even hear this?”

The Sonnelino’s are about the biggest threat there is around here. Not even the admins have been able to catch them.

“You of all people should know how quickly word gets around in this town. Especially regarding our most notorious ‘mafia’ family.”

They don’t kill unless someone is in debt to them, as far as I know. However, if they’re trying to go up against Chance, then there’s no doubt that they’re trying to pull something.

“I think you’re blowing it out of proportion. It’s pretty hard to believe they’d have such a big interest in Chance.”

Even still, I tried not to mind too much. I trust Chance’s ability to know when to say no. 

“Don’t be so sure, Elliot. I’ve even heard that several other members of the family have already tried going up against her.”

Not sure how justified that trust is, but for the time being I have no reason to worry too much.

Chapter Text

December 23rd. Does this count as a night out?

One moment, Chance and I were walking home from work, and the next moment I found myself in the casino in entirely unfamiliar attire and a face full of make up that felt itchy when I moved my skin even slightly.

The transition is more or less a blur, but I do remember being told that they had to return to the casino on account of some ‘official business’. Given the conversation I’d had with Sally only the day before, I asked to come along. It took some convincing, but Chance finally allowed it, only, we had to stop by their house to put me in something that’d fit in ‘better’.

The red dress was tight in some areas, loose in others. It was glaringly loose in my chest area. Something about it belonging to Chance’s mother, who was somehow thinner than I was but bigger in where it counted most it would appear. Putting those facts aside, it was so short I was afraid of some sort of wardrobe malfunction. It was almost embarrassing, but I decided to tough it out. It bared no sleeves, but I was currently wearing white gloves accompanied by the coat that Chance had been wearing, which practically solidified me as some sort of entourage. People looked at me with respectful smiles, at least for the most part.

Our arms were interlocked, and Chance spoke low when they talked to me. Throughout our navigation of the busy interior, with every single table occupied and something entirely different happening in every single corner of the main room, they explained to me certain things I should know and certain ways I should act. They said that, despite knowing the client, it was always best to stay on our toes.

It was a simple set of rules, but all of them felt odd in some way.

For starters, the no speaking rule. They told me it was more of an identity situation. You never know with ‘these types of clients’ what they could be after, so to allow them to do all of the talking necessary.

Secondly, only make eye contact when they have initiated it first. Staring is rude, so don’t be the one to start it. You never know when someone could see it as a threat.

Third, don’t make a face. More or less an extension of the previous rule, any sort of face could make the client think you’re up to something, even if you aren’t. It’s best to avoid it in case of conflict.

Fourth, never, under any circumstances, stray away from them. This rule felt far more personal from Chance, more as a way to keep me safe in case the client got a little aggressive.

And lastly, never allow yourself to be alone with someone. People only attack when nobody is watching, so under no circumstances should you ever be with someone you don’t know, let alone with them only.

Chance assured me that this would not happen, though, I was technically a foreigner in the client’s eyes. While guests of ‘official games’, which is supposedly what this was referred to as, was common, it definitely wasn’t as common for Chance to bring someone, let alone someone who was very clearly involved with them in the way that we were.

I was led to a much smaller room that had a single woman in dark attire standing out in front. Chance made an assured nod that was reciprocated by the woman before we walked inside.

Everything felt so unusual. Not just because I hadn’t ever stepped into the casino before, but I was suddenly being whisked away into a room filled with the people who were so important that they were granted ‘VIP’ status, or so the sign out front said. According to Chance, the status was not something that was bought, but only received once you’d made a name for yourself at their parents’ casino. It was only this select group of people that could request a game with Chance specifically. A scam, if you asked me.

I wasn’t doubting Chance’s ability, but it made it appear as if they were a prize. In my eyes, there’s no way that could be fair.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

Before me stood a woman who practically towered over us. She wore entirely black, as if a shadow rather than her own person. Her hat, large, appearing very similar to Chance’s own, hid her face almost entirely. It was only when she glanced towards the single table in the middle of the room, illuminated by the only light that seemed to be on, did I catch the slightest glimpse of her eyes.

Red, wholly red.

Like her lipstick, like blood.

Chance smiled at the lady before speaking.

“Good to see you again, Don.”

It was a name I did not recognize as being particularly bad. But somehow, it made me all the more on edge.

I minded what Chance had told me before stepping aside, within the light crowd of other individuals, making sure to keep quiet and in the background. I watched as the dealer, a slender man who I also did not recognize, opened up a new deck of cards adorned in floral packaging, distinctly the ones that belonged to the casino, and set them out in front of Chance and the woman.

“I see you’ve brought someone along with you. Might I ask what she is to you?”

“Quite nosey, aren’t we? You always were the type to pry into my life.” The game was poker, judging by how the dealer had set things up. “If you must know, she’s my fiancée.”

“Oh? Well, look at you. Mommy and Daddy’s little girl is already planning a future.” I noticed her nails were long, bearing the exact same striking red as her eyes. “I’ve never seen her around. Is she a fan of card games?”

To begin, both Chance and the women pushed out two chips. No rules, nor any sort of value, had been announced, which led me to believe that this was not the first time they’d played poker against each other. That, and of course, some other things.

“Not particularly. Perhaps that’s why I’m so fond of her.”

“My, opposites attract it would seem.” Both participants were handed two cards. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then.”

I stood behind Chance, revealing to me that both cards were particularly high, though not perfect. An ace, and an eight.

“Hm. While I’m thankful for the gesture, why don’t we get back to the task at hand.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’d like to raise my bet by ten chips.”

I’d always known Chance to be particularly competitive in our games throughout high school. The thing about that though, is that I was aware of just how much they would hold back when it was against me. Rumors around school would build up quickly, saying that not only did they have a habit of shit talking, but an almost cocky demeanor that never seemed to fade, even in the unlikely chance that their luck would run out. Which, if I’m remembering correctly, only ever happened once.

“20 chips.” Chance said right after.

She made no comment, only holding a smile that was rid of genuine emotion.

The flop was then revealed, showing a single face, an eight, and a five. Chance’s ace held the same suit as the face, both hearts. However, the other two cards were both diamonds, in comparison to Chance’s spade. If 'Don' didn't also hold a pair, then Chance would win from their own.

“Give me 15 more chips, for the fun of it.” The lady said after examining the cards.

“In that case, I’ll raise six.” Chance responded.

“Must you always put in more than me?”

“It’s more fun that way.”

The dealer then laid out the turn, revealing it to be a seven spade.

“I’ll raise one.”

“So will I.”

And finally, the river, the queen of clubs.

“Hm…raise me five more chips.”

“I’ll do the same.”

Finally, it was time to set the cards down.

When she placed her cards down it revealed a three of hearts and a ten of diamonds.

And so concluded the first round, with Chance winning due to the pair of eights like I’d anticipated.

It was a shaky start, but the next several rounds seemed to be just as shaky. One thing I would notice however, was the dwindle in Chance’s height as an indicator that their luck was being lost as the game continued.

A total of ten rounds were played, which, by the tenth, had consisted of five wins on Chance’s part, and four on their opponent’s.

“If we tie, who wins then?” She asked.

“As per tradition, you win. Losing your memory now, Don? You should know this.” Chance leaned backwards, with their head just barely touching the side of my arm when they did so. They peered their head back just slightly, giving me a warm and familiar smile that contrasted just about everything this afternoon.

She snapped her fingers.

“I thought you said focus?” She smiled. “Is she making you go soft or something?”

“Hardly. Ever consider that she’s my good luck charm?”

They rested a single arm against the top of the chair, leaning their body lightly to the side in a slouched demeanor that felt insensitive and almost disrespectful. It was clear they were leaning that way in order to make this ‘Don’ woman a little on edge, but from the way she kept her composure, it bothered her very little. It was then I started to realize that there were four people that had been practically hovering this entire time.

Most people had not stayed the whole game. Many had navigated around the place, some leaving momentarily before returning back with a drink or two, or just disappearing entirely. In fact, for most of the game, I had only recognized Chance, Don, and I being the only people who had stayed in place.

But I suppose it was because I had not been paying enough attention.

There were four, all of which shared the same yellow skin that Don and I had. Three of them wore hats, while the remaining fourth only had sunglasses, but it was still notable to group her in with the others. A top hat, a conductor’s hat, and an ushanka. All of which had matching attire of a black suit vest over a white button up and black slacks. They had gotten increasingly closer to Chance’s opponent as the night continued, watching every single card, making a round trip from one side to the other, all before returning back to Don.

Were they cheating? Surely, Chance would have noticed. But even then, would they have said anything about it?

I wanted to say something, but ultimately decided to stick to the rules. Even still, I laid a gloved hand on their upper arm. They acknowledged it with a nod that was not enough to tell me directly, but enough to imply it.

“Nice ring you got there, Missus.”

She made direct eye contact with me, which I could do nothing but slightly glance back.

“She’s not much for talking.” Chance interjected, only to be met with a stern frown from their opponent.

“Is she now? You and her seemed to be talking rather okay on your way in here.”

“Then allow me to correct myself. She’s not much for talking to other people.”

“Sounds rather controlling. You aren’t abusing her, are you?”

Chance gritted their teeth. I noticed a tensing in their shoulder that urged me to move my hand further up in attempts to console it. It seemed to work, as their posture relaxed once again as I held their shoulder gently.

I shifted, leaning down directly behind them as I wrapped my arms around their neck.

The initial bet was identical to the first round, which I could’ve said was intentional. Only, when Chance received a jack and queen of spades, I could tell that there was a big difference. This could either go incredibly well, or incredibly horrible. The spades limit the chances of getting something you can match with, additionally, such high cards hinder the chances you’ll get a match of something equally as high. The safest thing was to expect other spades within the set, only, the chances of Don pulling the spades we needed are relatively the same. A royale flush is practically impossible, but a straight might be a little more manageable.

The second raise was not different either. While the past raises had been inconsistently high and low, this one seemed to mirror the very beginning. I could only hope it would also mirror Chance’s winnings, because the two were very equally tied in chips. A loss would not only damage Chance’s supposed reputation, but also cost quite the amount.

The flop revealed a diamond, a king to be exact, a spade of ten, and a diamond of ten.

“100 chips, please.” She said, which caught both of us off guard.

What were the chances that both cards she pulled were diamonds? She’d need the ace and two faces to complete the set. But also, she could be trying for four of a kind. I mean, two tens wasn’t as impossible.

“You must have incredible cards.” Chance laughed.

“Maybe I do.”

“Well, in that case, allow me to put in 200 chips.”

The little audience left began whispering amongst each other, and I could not help but bite my lip out of anxiousness. For that to work out, the next two cards had to be an ace of spades and a face, assuming that what she held were both faces. I could only hope that the next two were at least not diamonds.

“Oh, wow. Better hope the next cards are in your favor, huh?” She leaned forward against the table. “How much money even is that?”

Nobody answered. Everybody knew.

There’s no way the bet had not exceeded one million by now, and had this been any other group of players, someone would’ve folded long before it got to this.

I would almost sigh of relief when the next card revealed itself to be a king of spades. However, I knew better than that. If they had any chance of winning against a potential royal flush of the opponent, the last card had to be an ace of spades.

“Well, in that case, I’ll put in 50 more chips," she said.

“Losing hope?”

“Not particularly.”

“Alright. 100 chips it is then.”

The whispers felt more like yelling at this point, but only because I had begun focusing on them way too much. Nothing was coherent, but every now and again I’d hear a suit be said, a value be yelled. a hand be predicted. I was not paying attention when the final card was placed down.

“All in.”

“All in.”

The two spoke in unison.

“How’s a four of a kind gonna do?”

I looked back towards Chance’s opponent, seeing that just as I’d mentioned, all they got were two tens. It was a relatively good hand, and would win if what was placed was anything but an ace of spades. Speaking of which, I should check.

But Chance placed their cards down before I could.

“Well, see for yourself.”

The jack and queen shined almost like diamonds under the lighting. Quickly, the crowd erupted in talk much louder. I’d even heard ‘How was that even possible?’

I finally looked at the river, and to my surprise and relief, the final card was in fact, the ace of spades we needed.

Chance had done it, somehow.

“But I think you knew that.” Chance continued.

“Come again?”

Don said, getting up.

“You rigged the cards, didn’t you?”

“How could I? I mean, I had not even touched the cards the whole time.”

“Would you mind bringing your lackeys forward? I recognize each of their faces quite well.”

With the snap of her finger, each of the ones I’d noticed walked forward, some looking more stern, others far more laid back.

Chance picked up a single card.

“These aren’t the ones manufactured for this casino. Surely, you’d think I’d notice.”

“Pray tell me, what gave it away?”

“While the material is the exact same quality, the colors are perfect, our cards have one more petal on this flower right here.” They pointed at the largest one in the center of the backing.

“Proof?”

“Mi luz, could you take out the deck in the pocket of my coat, please?”

I pulled away quickly, rummaging for the exact box I’d felt on my leg as we walked. The box was still in its packaging, so very gently I would pull the plastic off and hand it over.

They pulled out a single card, holding them side by side. I could not see the backing from where I stood, but judging by the faces of others in the crowd, it would appear that what they said was true.

“I’m not sure how much you paid our manufacturers, but I have no doubt we pay them more. Clearly, what they gave you was noticeably different.”

Just barely, I noticed Don’s smile got sharper. Each of her sidekicks looked towards her with the same face of not quite worry, not anger or sadness, but a harsh smile.

“It’s just as you said, Boss,” spoke the one with the ushanka.

“Well, would you look at that? The daughter of a rich man really does pay attention to those types of things," said the one with the top hat.

“I’d expect nothing less of you, Chance. But moreover, how does this prove we’re cheating?”

“Mind passing me the rest of the deck there?”

The dealer did as he was asked. Immediately, Chance would begin flipping through them, pulling out a single card that seemed to have no significance. The ace of spades.

Only, that card had already appeared. It was still sitting as the river in the center of the table.

Then they pulled out another.

“Duplicates,” they said. “A rather simple trick, one might even call juvenile. You had to hope that someone would not receive a double, which is why your Caporegime over here kept walking around.”

The one with the sunglasses nodded their head as a proud acknowledgement.

“I’m curious to know what would’ve happened if someone did receive a duplicate, but I have no doubt you would’ve simply blamed the casino for cheating or something of the sort. I guess it was good that it didn't come to that,” Chance had continued.

Don began clapping. Slow, drawn out ones.

“You’ve seen through me, I suppose that means our match is invalid?”

“Correct. Neither of us won today.”

“How unfortunate.”

“You had to have known this was coming.”

“Oh, I did. However, I’ve gained valuable information. So, I would call this a win in my books.”

“Always was the cryptic type, Don. Same time next month, then?”

“Think you’ll trust me by then?”

“I’ve never trusted you. But, sure. We’ll see when we get there.”

And off they went, each disappearing into the crowd like the shadow I’d assumed they were.

“How long did you know?” I finally said once they were gone.

Chance stood up and pushed their chair in. Meanwhile, the dealer was already cleaning up the aftermath.

“I became suspicious when I noticed ‘Sunglasses’ over there making it a point to see both hands each round.” They chuckled. “Judging by lack of reaction, you noticed it too, huh?”

“Well, I didn’t know for sure what they were doing, but I knew something was happening. Who stays to watch an entire poker game?”

“You’d be surprised. But yeah, it does look kind of weird that not one of them left to get a drink or something like most do.”

“Do you really play with her every month?”

“Just about. She usually tells me in advance when she isn’t available, but it would appear she looks forward to our games.”

“I see.”

“She might seem…elusive in a sense, but she’s harmless.”

“You think so?”

Chance nodded as a response, though I wasn't really assured. If they truly thought that she was harmless, Chance wouldn't have made up those stupid rules.

“Are you up for staying a little longer or are you ready to head home?” They asked, grabbing my hand.

“I’d like to see what else you get up to here, if you don’t mind.”

“Sounds good to me. Just remember, stay close, alright?”

“Will do.”

Chapter Text

December 24th. Christmas Eve

“How far do we have to travel?”

I stayed the night at their house. The clock read 10am, and both of us had only just woken up about an hour ago. The first thing I had done was showered, washing away the feeling of the night before that left me feeling icky and sweaty, not to mention the light headache. As of right now, I was held close by a half asleep Chance, who was conscious enough to give me coherent sentences and hold a conversation, but had no intention of getting up any time soon.

“It’s roughly an hour out of town,” they responded, through a groggy yawn.

“An hour? What time do we have to be there?”

“I don’t think there’s a specific time, only a time where the doors open and close.”

“Which is?”

“Doors open at 8…close somewhere after 4pm if I’m not mistaken.”

“So what, we head out at the latest 7?”

“Sounds about right.”

I pressed my cheek against their chest.

“Are you fine with me staying over until then, in that case?”

“No problem with me. Only, I’ll have to leave at some point to pick up all the things we had tailored.”

Right, one of the events that I had little recollection of four days ago. The dress had not actually made it home with me, only the mask that led me to believe certain things about where we were headed.

“Do you want me to tag along?”

“If you want to. My parents might stop by, so if you were to stay, you’d likely run into them at some point.”

I had a total of one conversation with Chance’s parents since our reunion, and that conversation happened last night. It was brief, only because both of them were quickly whisked away on account of some business happening elsewhere in the casino, but from what I could get out of them, they seemed happy for Chance.

Which is really all I could ask for.

I knew that Chance’s parents had at least liked me throughout the time we’d been friends before. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have permitted Chance to be friends with me in the first place. Their treatment felt like concern bordering on control, helicopter-like parents that seemed to dwindle only when their kid was with someone they trusted. It’s what made it so easy for Chance to stay over. My mother was very trustworthy.

From what I could tell, and from what they could respond, they’re glad Chance chose me. Something about me being a good influence, whatever that entailed.

Still, it would have to suffice. Approval is all I strived for, really. It didn’t matter whether it came reluctantly or enthusiastically.

I’d hear a light chirping from below the covers next to us, reminding me that Spade had been napping for a good majority of time since we woke up. She poked her head out of an opening, looking over at us with a stupidly blank expression that never seemed to go away. Ears shot up, slightly curving forward as she stared.

I held my hand out, waiting for her to push her head underneath it. I’d rub her fur gently once she had.

I would end up falling back asleep at some point, and when I’d woken back up I found myself alone, with only the warmth of Spade in my arms. I was reminded of what Chance had told me before, and figured that they’d left at some point without me. I didn’t particularly mind. This was a lot better than being woken up.

I stayed huddled up against the bunny, who seemingly had also long since fallen asleep. Just as I was about to drift off again, there was an abrupt shaking of the doorknob, followed by the slightly squeaky sound of the door opening.

I turned my head, expecting to see Chance, but it was actually their mother, who had walked in unannounced and was seemingly trying to find something. She hadn’t heard, nor even noticed me.

It was weird the way Chance’s family functioned sometimes. For starters, it’s as if knocking didn’t exist in this house. The closest thing you got was Chance’s dad asking to come in as they got older, but their mom had no such respect.

I didn’t say anything, only turned over to get a better look at what she was doing.

She was rummaging through their drawers, before switching to look into the closet, but still not finding what she needed. I was curious, because the longer the search went on, the more aggravated she looked. I could’ve asked at any moment really, but depending on what it was, she likely wouldn’t actually tell me.

She’d leave the room just as quickly as she walked in, meanwhile I stayed put until Chance returned about 20 minutes later, holding a couple large bags.

“I could’ve helped you,” I said once they’d set everything down.

“You needed sleep. We’re probably gonna be out late tonight too.”

“Is your mom still home?”

“Uh, I think she just left. Why? Did something happen?”

“She walked in at some point, but I don’t think anything happened.”

“Did she say something?”

“No. She didn’t even realize I was here.”

“I see. She was probably grabbing something.”

I didn’t press further, deciding that if Chance was okay with it, then it was nothing to worry about. My mom walks in to grab stuff all the time, but maybe it feels different because she usually asks in advance if I have something before she does so.

The clock now read 1pm.

“Are you hungry?” Chance asked, picking up Spade who had been sitting next to me.

“Are you asking me, or the bunny?”

“I know Spade’s hungry. She always is.”

“I can make something for us.”

“Are you sure?”

“What, don’t want to eat my cooking?”

“If I ever deny something that you’ve made, then that clearly isn’t me.”

I opted to make something simple this time around. Burritos of chicken, bean, cheese, rice, and cilantro. Truth be told, the only reason why it came to mind was because Chance had fed Spade cilantro.

Conversation remained light, not because it was difficult to talk but simply because there was hardly anything more to talk about. It’s gotten to a point where a comfortable silence is more than enough.

By the time we’d finished, it was already 3pm.

“At what time should we start getting ready?”

“That depends on how long you want to be dressed. Though, I’d suggest at least two hours before we have to leave.”

“Well what if something’s wrong with the dress?”

“If something was wrong, then we’re gonna need a lot more time than what’s left right now.” They said it lightheartedly, but I still felt anxious. “There’s no need to worry. There’s a reason why the process of buying it was so stressful. It should be perfect now.”

“What all changed?” I asked as if I even remembered much of what the dress looked like in the first place.

“Well, there was hardly any gripes with it to begin with. The main focus was the corset, since the form wasn’t initially tailored for your body as typical corsets should be.” They looked over at the bags. “I mean, you could look at it right now if you really wanted to.”

And so I did.

Once I had, I realized why it was this dress I had chosen in the first place. However, the appearance of it did not solidify what we were doing any more than the clues I’d been given already had. It was fancy, yes, but not something that would give me hardened proof or any more clues.

The dress was form fitting, which seemed to be the style that I had accustomed myself to over the past couple of weeks. Its material was a mixture of satin and lace, depending on where you were looking at. It was sectioned, naturally, and what I was currently holding was the part meant to sit under the corset, which was built into the main structure of the dress that would sit under a bustle. It was a dark brown, almost black.

“I also stopped by your house to grab the mask. I forgot you took it home with you.” Chance said as they walked up behind me.

I wouldn’t start actually getting ready until an hour later, figuring that it’d be better to start early rather than later and risk cutting it close. Nothing was truly forcing us to make it as soon as the doors opened, but I was anything if not punctual.

“The crinoline is one of the small ones, so I can make no promises about how heavy it will be underneath.”

From my limited knowledge of dresses such as this one, I noticed that the crinoline Chance was referring to was not as big as they typically were. Assumingly, this was my own choice. It would also allow the dress to fit in a way that I could only describe as a box-jellyfish-shape, though, probably not as pronounced.

The part of the dress that sat under the bustle got slightly tighter at the legs, which only told me that my suspicion was correct.

The abundance of layers was a little difficult to put on, or figure out the order of, but at least I knew I’d be warm.

The bustle was the same dark brown, only the side that bore the clip that kept it in place was hidden under roses of lace that were a vibrant red. It dragged into a red bow near where my knees were underneath that tied it together like a curtain, before continuing down to where the train of the underdress was.

And finally, was the corset, with the main center sharing the same brown as most of the dress, lines of lace that shared the same red, but now accented with a creme along each stitch.

The dress had no sleeves, which I was almost concerned about until Chance presented me with the last three articles of the dress that they told me it’d be best to set aside until we were about to leave. That being a shawl of satin, a dark crimson, cream colored gloves that reached above my elbows, and a dark brown veil that was adorned with matching red flowers of lace just as the bustle.

“A veil?” I asked as Chance held it folded out in front of me.

“It came with the dress. I don’t think you wore it that day.” They slowly pulled it upon and allowed the full length to fall.

It’d reach the ground with no problem.

“If I’m not mistaken, this type of veil is called a mantilla. Spanish origin, I’m sure.” Chance continued. “You don’t have to wear it, but it’d probably hide your identity better.”

“Hide my identity?”

“Oh…uh–”

“Just where are we going?”

“Uhm…okay, fine. I was invited, or well, my family was invited to a masquerade ball a couple weeks ago. The thing is, Christmas Eve is always our busiest night of the year so my parents agreed to allow me to go and represent them.”

“And so I’m your plus one?”

“Technically, yes. Trust me, I care little for the business affairs, but it’s super important that at least someone from my family goes and…just please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I wasn’t honest with you.”

“Nobody got hurt, right?”

“...No…”

“Then it’s all fine. While I would’ve preferred knowing from the start, no harm, no foul.” I wrapped my arms around their neck with a smile. “Though, do try to at least spend some time with me while we’re there.”

“Nobody could ever keep me away from you for long.” They pressed a kiss near my cheekbone.

“Hm. Good to know.”

Make up was hardly necessary, as the mask covered up a good majority of anything visible. Even still, I made sure to use mascara at the very least.

With a little over an hour left, Chance had finally begun getting ready. I sat on the bed and watched them put on clothes that were not far off from their usual attire, only now it seemed longer in some places. A simple white button up was replaced with one that was slightly more extravagant, and with far more ruffles and a jabot instead of a typical collar. A simple suit vest that was dark brown, matching almost perfectly with the color on my dress sat atop of it, and was accompanied by slacks of the same color. For once, they were leaving the house without their headphones, and their fedora was replaced with one that had a larger brim and lined with a veil similar to mind in texture. No sunglasses were needed either, as the mask would cover up most of their face as mine did.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be able to drive like that?” I asked, noticing their shoes were slightly thicker at the soul than usual. It also wasn’t until now that I noticed they were shorter today, much similar to the height they’d gained last night after their game of poker.

“I’m not gonna wear the hat. I should be fine.”

“I haven’t seen you drive since high school, do you even do it that often?”

“More or less.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Just trust me.”

“I’ll try.”

We left a little after seven. Not because either of us weren’t finished getting ready, but Chance decided at the last minute that they'd feed Spade a little earlier than what she was used to to make up for us not coming home until way later.

And off we went.

It was already dark by the time we were on the road, which was obviously typical for this time of year. Roads that were slightly busy led onto others that bore little to no cars at all. Buildings turned into trees, and a sign would soon tell me that we were entering the premise of an estate instead of public property.

There were already plenty of cars out when we’d arrived, but many other attendees it would seem, had been chauffeured.

I didn’t pay too much attention to the exchange in conversation Chance had with a man out front, who seemed like he was in charge of those entering and leaving the place that was easily the biggest I’d ever seen in my entire life.

It was pristine, at least 4 stories high and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was an underestimate. It was almost like a castle. Royalty could live here.

“And your name, Miss? As is required for the guest list.” My attention was called back when I felt Chance’s hand tap against my shoulder.

“Apologies, sir. I must be a little distracted.” I responded, trying to mimic a more fancy, polished, way of speaking.

“Ah, no need to apologize. The Missus is one for showing off, so it only made sense that she’d choose one of her more finer estates.”

What a bunch of prissy rich people.

I looked over at Chance for a brief moment, looking for any sign that would tell me whether or not to give my real name or be secretive as I’d apparently been taught to be this entire time. I didn’t see anything, so I decided to be truthful this time around.

“Elliot Builder, sir.”

“Builder? As in the family that owns the pizzeria?”

The way he said it felt almost mocking/

“Do try to act more professional, sir. After all, in this scenario, I am your superior.” I snapped.

“Right, right. I do apologize, Miss. Please proceed.”

Chance led me inside.

“He seemed to strike a cord with you, huh?” They chuckled.

“Can’t say I’m too big of a fan of people making fun of my family’s name. My mom worked hard to get us where we are today.”

“Good to know. However, as of this point forward, try to refrain from conflict. The rich aren’t the biggest fans of people who speak up for themselves.”

“As if you aren’t one of them.” I covered my mouth with the back of my palm as I laughed quietly.

“Hey, don’t group me in with these people. At least I know how to act.”

“More or less.”

“Rude.” I could hear an unserious tone in Chance’s voice. “But anyways, do you remember the rules from last night?”

“How could I forget?”

“Good. Now, I’ll need you to forget all but one of them.”

“And that is?”

“The Stay Close to Me rule.”

“Got it, boss.”

“I’d prefer it if you just never let go of my hand, but at the very least make sure that we’re in view of each other.”

“And this isn’t just an excuse to hold my hand?”

“Hey, you were the one that asked me to spend time with you.”

As we navigated through the room already filled with people, I’d begun subconsciously docking important areas in the back of my head. Firstly, what appeared to be a stage that was filled with a live performance of a pianist, violinist, and saxophonist. Secondly, the bar area, which had an assortment of food and snacks, as well as a variety of alcoholic beverages. I’ve had a couple drinks in my life, but I wasn’t sure how keen I was on having one tonight. There were stairs that led to a balcony area that oversaw the rest of the room, but I noticed nobody was up there. Several entrances to hallways, with some hanging out there but nobody walking in or out of them. And finally, what was probably most important, exists. Two, to be exact. The doors that Chance and I had walked in through, and another one that seemed to lead out into a garden area. The door was open, people were walking in and out in a calm fashion.

There was a grandfather clock near one of the hallways.

It read 8pm.

Despite the No Talking rule no longer being an issue, I refrained from speaking unless someone invited me into conversation, Otherwise, I merely followed around as Chance did most of the talking. It was fine. I don’t have enough experience in talking to these kinds of people.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite gambler.” I heard a voice that had become way too familiar.

Both of us turned out heads, only Chance seemed to do it much more enthusiastically.

“Don? What a coincidence.”

“Coincidence indeed,” she responded. This absolutely wasn’t a coincidence.

Don respected the dress-code, wearing attire that was tight but still showy, covered in sparkles and draped over with a burlesque fur coat that reached the ground. The hat, much like how Chance’s had changed, was larger at the brim but was not decorated as much. Not much was required to cover her face, but even still, her mask was black.

Her companion took no struggle identifying. In fact, it’s as if nothing had even changed aside from an added mask that really only covered her eyes. It was one of the four I’d seen yesterday, the one with the top hat and hachimaki underneath that I only just now noticed. Not much for dressing up, I suppose.

“You remember Consigliere, right?” The only name I remember hearing last night was Caporgime’s, so I’d suppose this was also an important name to keep track of.

“Indeed. She put up quite a fight when we played Blackjack that one time.”

Consigliere seemed to bask in the praise, keeping her hands perfectly still behind her back, but a grin that spoke louder than words.

“Ah, yes. She and the girls do tend to play it quite a bit.” How does one even put up a fight in blackjack? It’s luck!

The more I thought about it, the more interested I became in the name ‘Consigliere’. It was not one I recognized to the point of definition, but it sounded familiar. Still, I said nothing. What if it really was just an odd name?

“Good to know.” Chance responded.

“And I see you also have a plus one?” Don finally asked. 

Instinctively, I tightened the grip my arm had on Chance’s.

“Right. You two have met before.”

“Ah, your fiancée. I was curious as to when I’d be able to see her again.” Her words were sour.

I turned towards Chance slightly, tapping my hand against their shoulder to get them to lean down slightly.

“I’m gonna get a drink. You want something?” I spoke quietly, only with the intention of them hearing me.

“Oh. No, I’m good. Since when did you drink?”

I didn’t respond, merely slipping away and over to the fancy tables in the corner.

Red wine was appealing to look at, but never really my preference. Lucky for me, there was a vast assortment of white wines to choose from, next to various brands and flavors. I grabbed one at random, figuring that I’d make the most of my time here. Seeing people you don’t wanna see really changes your opinion on things.

I’d hear footsteps come up from behind, but paid no mind. People were walking every which way.

“She won’t take her eyes off you, you know.” Said a voice that now stood next to me.

I didn’t say anything, but acknowledged the voice by looking towards them. It was Consigliere.

“The casino’s sweetheart. She’s been glancing over ever since you walked away.”

Still nothing from me.

“Listen, I know you can talk.”

I shrugged. Of course I can talk you fucking idiot. What, did she think I was telepathically communicating?

“I’m just trying to have a normal conversation here. I’m no threat to you.”

Like Chance said, you can never be too sure.

“Is it my name? It is pretty odd, no?”

That was a minor concern, but sure, we can start there.

“It’s a little complicated, but it means adviser. I’m sure you’ve heard it in a movie or two.” She grabbed a cup of the same wine I had in my hand. “You could call me the boss’s right hand man of sorts.”

This made the group of them no less weird. Were they a part of a company? Was Don that egotistical that she had to rally a bunch of randos to be around her like some odd family?

Family.

Family?

Hm. Maybe Sally was right.

The one I was currently talking to, or, more correctly, the woman that was talking to me was part of the infamous mafia around town. Then that means that Don’s full name must be Don Sonnelino, if we’re assuming that she didn’t use an alias. Which, if you ask me, is pretty stupid. So much for being dangerous, they practically gave themselves away from the beginning.

“You’ve figured it out, huh?” She asked. “Listen. We mean no harm to you guys. If anything, the boss has taken quite the liking to your fiancée over there. It’s not often we come across someone so…”

“Free-spirited?” I answered for her.

“Hm, yeah.” She smiled. “Might I ask how you two met?”

“High school sweethearts, kind of. It’s a little complicated.”

“Well, we’ve got all night. I imagine that those two have already occupied themselves with a bet by now.”

“Well, some things happened a little before we graduated. The details are mostly irrelevant, but she’s the one that seeked me out again after two years.”

“What a sweet love story. I imagine you two are quite happy, huh?”

“As happy as one could be in this type of situation.”

“Oddly phrased. Something bothering you?”

“I wouldn’t say bothered is the right way to describe how I feel. Worried, I guess is better.”

“Oh. I think I know what you’re referring to, or better more, who.”

“Come again?”

“Listen, this is gonna sound a little weird, but Don’s had her eye on Chance for quite some time now. Nothing romantic, hardly an obsession, rest assured, it’s just how she is. I’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

“She is rather intimidating.”

“She inherited the family from her parents. Same goes with that intimidating nature. She’s actually one of the sweetest people you’ll meet, if you look past the bodycount.” She chuckled while looking into her glass. If I didn’t know any better, I could say that the two were in love or something.

“One night, while she and I were the last to leave base, she told me about an interesting character that she saw out with Chance a couple days prior.” She took a sip. “Said something about a crown? Fancy-schmancy attire.”

“Did she mention a name?”

“She didn’t catch it. Though, I’m sure you know who I’m referring to?”

“I do. For what it’s worth, her name is iTrapped.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that. Who is she to Chance?”

“Friends. Chance told me something about a one-night stand scenario a couple nights ago.”

“Ouch. I’d imagine that left a sore somewhere.”

“It surprisingly didn’t affect me as much as you’d think. Sure that night a couple days ago wasn’t her first time, but look who has a ring on their finger and who doesn’t?”

“Glad you can see the positive of things, but damn, took you that long?”

“How about we look past my sex life for now.” I took a big sip of wine, feeling as it burned my throat in a way that felt satisfying.

“Fine, fine. Moving back to that girl. Why don’t you just tell your fiancée about how you feel?”

“Sometimes I think it’s just me overthinking things. What if there really isn’t anything to be worried about, and me saying something only ruins things?”

“You two are gonna get married soon. Communication is key, haven’t you heard the phrase?”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Interesting is that it’s coming from you.”

“What? Are you getting at something there?” She nudged my side.

“Oh c’mon, I can see the way you stare at her.”

She paused for a moment, looking over at Don and Chance who had migrated towards an area of the hall that was far less crowded. They seemed to be in quite the exciting conversation.

“It’s…” Her thumb dragged itself along the rim of her cup. “It’s complicated. I don’t want things to change. I’ve always been someone she holds dear.”

“You don’t want things to go south, huh?”

“Exactly. It’s better this way.”

“Are you scared that things will change, or scared that she doesn’t return those feelings?”

“Both. Definitely both. Not to mention, things work differently when you’re in a…family.”

“How so?”

“Things are never guaranteed. It’s best not to complicate things with emotions and relationships in case something goes wrong or we slip up.” She turned, setting down her cup to refill it. “I’ll tell her one day, probably. But that day won’t be for a long, long time.”

“If you’re worried about slipping up if you tell her, I think you should be just as concerned if you slip up and haven’t told her. What if something happens and you’ve spent all this time keeping how you feel locked up?”

“I didn’t expect to be getting relationship advice on someone younger than me.”

“Well, hey, I’ll be getting married soon and you can’t even bag your best friend over there.”

“We’re hardly best friends.”

“Out of all four of you, she chose you to come along with her, didn’t she? That’s gotta mean something.”

“It’s merely about positions. Full business if you ask me.” She turned back around. “As her right hand man, it’s only customary that I tag along for events like this.

“How’d you even get that position anyways? Surely that’s not your real name.”

“It’s mostly because I’ve known her the longest. We met in college, long before she inherited the family. Back when she had dreams of maybe doing something else with her life.”

“What did she wanna be, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A doctor. Always told me she wanted to work in pediatrics, with kids.”

“An admirable career,” I commented.

“I’ll say. We shared only one class, if I remember correctly. We got partnered up for a major assignment and became fast friends.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I learned about the family one night after she’d gotten incredibly drunk. She called me in wasted tears. She had just found out that her elder brother, who was to initially inherit the business, had passed away. She was the only one left.”

“Couldn’t she just have said no?”

“Not that easy. Once you're in the business, you can’t leave it. She became a part of it the day she was born.” She took another sip, as did I. “A mixture of remorse for the mafia, likely mixed in with mourning her brother, led her to detail every little thing to me. But quickly after, she was scared that she put me in danger.”

“And so you just agreed to join?”

“Exactly. It was just how the cookie crumbled, nothing more and nothing less.”

“You don’t think you’re intentionally reading too little into it?”

“Even if I was, I still think it’s better this way.”

“If that doesn’t make you best friends, I don’t know what does. Hell, the only reason why Chance and I became friends was just because my family is rich.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“I’d say. Chance’s parents are a little shallow in that sense, but I’ll always be thankful it led her to me.”

“What does your family do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Seeing all these people who are likely connected to tycoons, major business models, scams, any way to get money, makes my family’s successes look a little silly.”

“Well, it ain’t like I come from money either. Don’s the richest person I know.”

“My mom owns a successful pizzeria chain.”

I heard her snort.

“Hey! I told you not to laugh!” I playfully hit her on the shoulder.

“I’m trying! But the way you said it!” She was holding her free hand up towards her mouth.

“What’s wrong with the way I said it?”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting your money out of food. Truth be told, a lot of rich investors try to cash in on that type of money.”

“The guy out front laughed,” I muttered.

“Oh, that guy? The only reason he got a job under the lady who owns this place is because she knows his dad.”

“Can’t say I’m too far off. People only know me because of my mom.”

“Which pizzeria chain is it?”

“Saying that would give away my name.”

“What, is it Builder Bro’s?”

I didn’t answer, only taking the last sip of the cup, giving away my identity in one fair swoop.

“Damn, really? I remember seeing those goofy commercials your brother was in as a kid.”

I didn’t comment. Didn’t say anything about how those commercials were actually me. It made me feel good knowing that someone didn’t immediately call me out as something I no longer associated with.

“Though, if I remember correctly from last night, you and him were basically identical. Is he your twin or something?”

“You could say that.”

“Ooh, being secretive again? I see how it is.” She’d press the space between her pointer finger and her thumb against her chin, as if thinking. “It’s kinda weird. Your brother was cute and all, but a girl would’ve been way better for marketing.”

“Odd thing to say, but sure.”

“What, I’m just telling the truth. I probably would’ve gone more if you were in those commercials.”

“Perhaps. It would've been interesting to know that a mafia family got pizza at my family’s restaurant regularly.”

“Woah, woah, don’t assume we don’t. Rumor has it, Soldier is a big fan of your sausage pizzas.”

“Soldier?”

“The short one with the sunglasses.”

“Oh, her. Really?”

“Yeah, yeah. She only ever orders, though.”

“Well, I might have to start doing deliveries more often. Maybe one day I’ll get to find out where you guys do business.”

“Psh. We’re dumb, but not that dumb. The base is sacred! Nothing ever gets ordered to there.”

“You’ve underestimated my ability to see through a front.”

“You not telling me something, or what?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I shrugged.

“Bullshit!”

Through the midst of happy conversation, I’d glance towards the clock again. It read 11pm, nearing 12am. Time truly does fly.

I’d then glance over to where Chance and Don had been standing previously, but I noticed now that Don was standing alone.

“Your boss is looking pretty lonely.” I said.

Consigliere has already been looking.

“Yeah, I noticed that too. Where’s Chance?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see her walk away.”

I looked around the hall, seeing no familiar face, or well, mask.

“Should we ask?” Consigliere suggested.

“Good idea.”

I’d follow her over to Don, who immediately seemed to lock eyes with Consigliere and softly smile. So much for not knowing if the feeling was mutual.

“It would appear you two have made quite the friendship over there,” Don said.

“The wine helps,” I jested, earning a glare from Consigliere.

“Ah, lovely to hear your voice for the first time.”

“Yeah, yeah, incredible. Where’s Chance?”

“She headed off upstairs, as of the last I heard. Some important people whisked her away,..just as we were engaged in such incredible talk about our plans for next month.”

“Ignoring…that…do you know who those people were?”

“Unsure. I did notice that the woman wore a half-mask. Not quite masquerade, but it was definitely an interesting look.”

I nodded before walking away. So much for the staying visible rule. I wasn’t even the one to break it!

Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d stayed put, but this would also give me an opportunity to look a little closer at the place.

Chapter Text

December 25th. Christmas Day, Morning?

I continued up the stairs. If anything, it’d give me a better look at the hall, or maybe I’d even find Chance up there. The distinct sound of my heels clanking against the tile became muffled as the flooring became carpeted on my way up and across the balcony. There were a few people up here by now, some of which acknowledge me with a slight glance and others completely oblivious.

However, once I’d examined my surroundings, I hadn’t spotted them.

I turned towards the railing, pressing against it lightly as I searched from above every single other person who shared the slight resemblance to either Chance or the mystery figure that they’d disappeared with.

I glanced over to where Don and Consigliere stood to see if Chance had returned, but only noticed that the two were talking to each other.

By this point, I was growing slightly concerned, but maintained composure.

I’d walk back down the stairs. At some point, you need to start questioning why you didn’t bring some sort of bag to hold your phone in. Stupidly, I’d left it in the car.

The likelihood that they’d be in one of the rooms by the hallway wasn’t very high, and I hadn’t spotted them by the drinks and snacks. Really, the only logical place they could be was outside. Which outside was a gamble of its own.

Realistically, the front would’ve only been decided if the person they were talking to was a potential client that had asked for a place more private to discuss whatever business endeavors that entailed. The garden was much more casual, but it probably had a lot more people. I decided for the sake of it, to head to the garden just to check. If they weren’t there, only then would I go through the hassle of trying to find them by the parking lot.

Once I’d stepped out, there was one thing I’d immediately noticed. It was that on my way out, someone who’d match the exact description Don had given me was walking inside. Her skin was a milky white, and her half mask was black. Her appearance felt juvenile, like some sort of magician. I figured I’d ask Chance when I eventually ran into them.

Which, thankfully, didn’t take too long. I spotted them staring out across the garden that had to expand for acres. It's the exact type you’d see in movies, with perfectly trimmed hedges and a large assortment of flowers that were nothing short of perfect. It’s like a gardener’s wet dream, only even better.

Once I’d walked up, I grabbed their hand. They didn’t acknowledge me directly, but the intertwining of fingers told me that they knew it was me.

“I’d hate to live like this.” They finally said, staring out into the sky that was only illuminated by stars.

“Really? I think the seclusion is quite nice.” I responded.

“I guess there’s something that scares me about being so far away from people. The stars are nice for a while until your thoughts start to get too loud.”

“It feels different from the countryside. At least then, you have neighbors that are within sight for the most part.”

“Hm. I forgot you used to live in the country.”

“Yeah. Grandma and Grandpa still live over there, but we haven’t really visited since my dad passed. I miss it sometimes.”

“Is that type of living something you’d consider in the future?” Chance let go of my hand and slid it over my shoulders, underneath the veil I’d almost forgotten I was still wearing.

“Well, maybe. But it’s just as much about my preference as it is about yours. I’m fine living in the city if it lets you rest easier.”

“Well, I mean, the town we live in used to be smaller. I guess something like that would be fine.”

“You up for moving far?”

“Would you miss your mom and sister?”

“There’s still the holidays to come over for. Plus, I think it’d be good to start fresh elsewhere. For both of us.” I leaned into their side. “There’s a chance you won’t be able to gamble as often, though.”

“Don might be a little sad about our meetings being more scarce, but she could handle it.”  Their hand slid down to my waist, finding my other hand to hold. “I noticed you and Consigliere were getting along. How did that go?”

“She’s actually quite nice to talk to. She and Sally share the same energy in a way, though Sally is far more for gossip.”

“You found out then, huh?”

“I did. I mean, it wasn’t too hard.”

“I knew you would eventually. I was a little worried.”

“Like I said. As long as nobody’s getting hurt, I’m okay with whatever happens.”

As a temporary quietness existed between us, I would pay slightly more attention to the people around me. I’d noticed that there were significantly less people sitting outside, which suggested to me that people were already heading home by now. It made me realize just how tired I’d gotten. Not to mention that the way the dress felt on my skin was becoming more uncomfortable as time went on.

“Who was that girl, if you don’t mind me asking?” I spoke up.

“Hm? The one you saw walking inside?”

I nodded in response.

“She’s a friend of a friend, you could say. Ran into her all of the sudden. She’s French, fun fact.”

“Exotic,” I joked.

“Yeah. I did have the opportunity to speak to some others around here, most of which were only interested in business. Work is work, I suppose.”

“Well, at least you had fun while it lasted.”

“I do wish we could’ve been together for a lot longer. I told you we would, and off I went disappearing all of the sudden.”

“Don’t worry. I still had fun.”

“That’s good, then.”

“Not to mention, we can still always do something for New Years.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“But now that I think about it, I’d much prefer we stay in all day. I don’t know how many more pairs of heels I can stand in for hours at a time.”

“You better start building endurance, then. If you’re gonna be my wife, events like this might come by more often.”

“Hooray.” It sounded sarcastic, and while it mostly was, deep down, I was also happy, content even. I was happy to be with Chance again, in any form that came by.

Maybe this was the better choice, choosing to allow Chance back into my life instead of pulling away once again.

I now had a future to look forward to.

Chapter Text

Two years later. Spring blossoms fresh flowers.

This past autumn was when we had the official ceremony. A small gathering, of really only the closest people we know. My family, friends, Chance’s parents, friends.

I wore my mother's wedding dress with no alterations aside from the fitting, deciding it was best to keep it that way. It was perfect as is, and nothing I could ever do to change it made it any better.

My mom sat clear in the front, next to Chance’s parents. I swear, she was crying the whole time, a smile never once going away. Meanwhile, my little brother had begged for ages to be the ring bearer. He looked silly in the suit that Chance had chosen for him, but only because I’d never seen him wear anything so fancy. Sally didn’t dare leave my side the entire time, saying that it was his ‘job as my maid of honor’. What would you even call a male maid of honor? We’d invited Don and her entourage, not actually expecting the whole lot to come, but they sat way in the back throughout the whole ceremony. Well, aside from Consigliere, who deemed herself a bridesmaid at some point.

iTrapped, naturally, was Chance’s best man. Best woman? I avoided her the entire time.

It went about as well as I could’ve asked for. As well as I could’ve expected. All that really mattered was that the people I loved were there.

Today, we live on the outskirts of town. My ten minute walk to work at most has turned into a 20 minute drive at best. It’s a house much smaller than what both Chance and I grew up in, but it somehow felt fitting. It didn’t really like something we’d bought temporarily, but genuinely like a place I could live at for the rest of my life.

Spade enjoys the upgrade of now living outside. While Chance’s home was big and spacious, there was hardly a backyard for the bunny to live in. She’s getting much older nowadays, but still as energetic as ever (which isn’t much, lazy bunny). I’m usually the one that feeds her, as Chance now has a more concrete schedule at the casino that forces them to leave much earlier, and return much later than I do. 

It makes sense. They own the casino now. I make it a point to welcome them home every night, whether with food that I’ve made myself, or on nights I’m particularly tired, something I grabbed on the way home.

Truly domestic.

As for me and my work at the pizzeria, I’m officially manager, if that means anything. It's hardly different. Even as a manager, nothing can keep me away from attending people at the cash registers, making pizzas, delivering them. My mom told me one day she’ll pass on the whole business to me, but I’m glad that that day is far to come. Sounds much more stressful than what I’m currently used to.

I’ll be getting surgery soon. Well, not really soon. My doctor told me after I got married to wait a little, to ensure that I don’t want kids. She would’ve put me on the list by now, but when she asked me about it, I gave her an unsure answer. I mean, adoption is always an option for sure, but what if one day I make a decision that contradicts what’s already happened? She told me to give it some time.

I still haven’t talked to Chance about those types of things, figuring it would be best to settle in first before we consider the next steps of our life. We have time. There’s always time. And I mean, Spade is basically our kid already, so what’s the big rush?

On this particular day, that time seemed to spread out the longest.

I was feeding Spade outside, admiring the fresh flowers that would soon be eaten by the bunny, when I received the text. It was abrupt, a message saying that they wouldn’t be home tonight. It felt odd, I felt odd reading it. Something was definitely off. In this situation, Chance would usually call me, give me a reason, something. But the text was all I received.

I tried to call, but there was no answer. A text sent that wasn’t even read.

I tried to ignore it, trusting them, before I decided to let Spade inside for the night. A bed without them was cold, so she'd have to be the stand-in.

After I showered, got ready to turn in for the night, I laid with Spade in my arm for what felt like hours. She’d fallen asleep way earlier, clearly having no worries of her own, but I guess something in the back of my brain was telling me that surely they’d come home at some point. That I’d see them.

Out of pure exhaustion, I’d drift off to sleep and wake up the next morning with still nobody but the bunny next to me. Nobody’d give me a kiss goodbye as a good morning.

It wasn’t like this type of thing hadn’t happened before, so I guess that’s what I was clinging onto. I’d feed Spade breakfast, let her back outside, before starting my own morning with tea.

I didn’t drink it. I couldn’t. Something about it made my stomach churn and I would probably worry myself into vomiting it up later on anyways. And so I left for work early. I needed to anyway. To ensure everything was clean and up to date still. Food inspectors would be coming by soon, and so the place had to be perfect.

I wouldn’t receive another text the rest of the day.

Time would turn into several days, to weeks. A police report that seemingly had no lead would eventually turn into a disappearance that had no answer.

Someone doesn’t just vanish like that, right?