Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’re in the middle of sophomore year when Nora mentions it. 

Aside from that remark, the day had been completely average so far. Autumn had followed Nora home from school and they’d sat on the floor of her garage doing their homework. Nora hadn’t wanted to do it, Autumn had pestered her into it. They messed around on their guitars, Nora played that one Björk song she knew, butchering all the lyrics as she tried to sing along. They called in the pizza delivery place for dinner because Autumn had just gotten her paycheck, which meant they could afford it. Now the remaining two slices of pizza were sitting in the box on the couch next to Autumn, who was watching Nora smoke, a habit she’d picked up recently against all better judgement.

“We should kiss.”

Autumn sat up. 

It takes her a second to process it. Nora is always saying weird stuff. She doesn’t have a filter, she says whatever comes first to her mind. That’s why they work; Nora is impulsive where Autumn is cautious. Nora speaks her mind when Autumn’s stuck in hers. Nora pulls Autumn out of her shell and Autumn brings Nora back down to earth. Nora doesn’t think before she acts when Autumn always has a plan (to get them both in and out of trouble). Yin and Yang, sun and moon, etcetera etcetera. It’s why they’ve never made any other friends— what one lacks, the other has. They don’t need anyone else.

“…What?”

Nora takes another long drag from her cigarette, taking her sweet time with a reply, like she’s suggesting something mundane instead of earth-shattering. “Come on, don’t pretend like you’ve never thought about it.” She said. “If I were a boy, I totally would’ve kissed you by now.”

Autumn glares down at her where she’s sprawled out on the floor.

Okay, yes, maybe she’s thought about it. But that’s because Nora got her braces off last week and she keeps licking at her teeth all the time and they’re hanging out twice as often now that Autumn and Dean broke up so Autumn sees her doing it all the time and it’s not Autumn's fault. Nora’s probably doing it on purpose to make her think about her lips or something.

Wait— Nora’s thought about it too? When? Why?

“No I haven’t.” Autumn denies. “What even— why bring this up, even?”

“I dunno,” Nora shrugs, just about as thought-out as she ever gets. “I was just, like, thinking. I haven’t dated anybody yet, but, like, you have. You already know how to kiss, but I’d have no idea where to even start.” She sat up, so she was sitting on the floor and looking up at Autumn on the couch. “Okay, like— obviously you can say no, but if you taught me how to kiss, I bet I’d be killer at it when I do finally get a boyfriend or something.”

“Nora,” Autumn sighs, “kissing isn’t something you have to be good at. I can’t teach you, you just kinda… do it.”

Nora looks away. “Yeah, I know. But like…” she puts her cigarette out on the ashtray that rests on the coffee table, folding her hands in her lap in a way that makes her look small. “Okay, maybe I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I know, that’s not like me, but what ever. But like— what if when I do actually really like someone, and I go in to kiss them— him, I monumentally suck at it. Like, I suck at it so bad, they decide they don’t like me anymore.”

The way Nora hunches over makes her look so vulnerable, it makes Autumn’s throat close up on her. She's known Nora for a year and a half now, knows her well enough to know that her fears of being forgotten or rejected are so loud sometimes. 

There’s a part of Autumn that knows Nora wouldn’t have opened up to anyone else about this, and it’s this part of her that moves to sit next to Nora on the floor. It’s a bad idea, and she knows it’s a bad idea. She didn’t even really like kissing Dean when they were together, and they’d only broken up a month ago. But this is Autumn’s best friend, her only friend. And as the moon shines through the window in Nora’s garage, Autumn crushes the urge to cradle Nora between her hands like she’s a broken baby bird. That’s… probably weird.

“Okay, jeez, fine.” Autumn agrees, pretending to ignore how Nora’s face lights up with glee. “Just know that there isn’t going to be a whole lot of actual instruction going on. You’re just gonna have to practice until you get it, okay?”

“Yeah.” Said Nora. “Sounds good. I can do that.” She scooted closer to Autumn so they were facing one another, sitting on the floor of her garage. “So, like, do I just lean in, or…?” 

“Here, just…” Autumn put a hand on Nora’s shoulder to keep her steady and leaned in. 

As their faces froze an inch apart, the gravity of it all began to set in. She could feel the warmth of Nora’s body, she could smell her cigarette smoke. 

It’s fine. She told herself, wiping the sweat of her palms off on her pants. What are you even freaking out about? It’s just Nora. 

Nora squeezes her eyes shut and doesn’t do anything when Autumn presses their lips together. Autumn lingers for another moment, hoping Nora will at least attempt to copy her, but Autumn realizes she isn’t even breathing. She pulls back.

“Can you, like, work with me here?” Autumn asks.

“I dunno how!” Nora exclaimed, looking everywhere but Autumn’s face. “I told you I’d suck at this.”

Autumn sighed. “Just… copy me, okay?”

“Okay.” Nora replied in a small voice.

This time when Autumn leaned in, Nora did too. And when Autumn tilted her head, so did Nora. 

When Dean had kissed her, he had held her still and went into it mouth open. It had been wholly unpleasant. But Autumn had liked the feeling of being liked, of being held. She let Dean hold her not because she likes how his body felt against hers, but because it made her feel wanted. Nora wasn’t even touching Autumn with her hands and her entire body felt like it was on fire. Autumn didn’t just feel wanted, she felt desired. With Dean, it was “Dean kissing Autumn.” This was Nora and Autumn kissing. 

Her heart was trying to break free of her ribcage, she was sure of it. It hurt. She backed away.

Nora tried to chase her, but stopped with a little hitch in her breath.

Autumn opened her mouth to call it all off. This isn’t what kissing is supposed to feel like. Autumn has kissed before, it’s supposed to be kinda wet but generally underwhelming. Not this… this… whatever this was. Autumn had felt like she was going to explode like a jack-in-the-box. She was lightheaded, even, like the atmosphere of the world around the two of them had shrunk in size and softened, making everything fuzzy around the edges. She could feel Nora’s closeness, and Autumn’s guts wouldn’t stop squirming around, she felt like she was going to throw up. It was never like this when she was with Dean, something isn’t right and she needs it to stop or she will explode.

But the words don’t come.

Because when Autumn pulls away, Nora is looking at her with stars in her eyes. She's never looked at Autumn like this before. Her eyes are huge, pupils so wide Autumn couldn’t see the color of her iris. She was flush, and she was frozen there, as if waiting on Autumn’s next move. Strangely docile, in a way Nora rarely ever is. 

Instead of doing the sensible thing, Autumn pulls Nora back in by the back of her neck.

And then she keeps letting it happen.

It’s weird, ‘cause they don’t really talk about it. It’s always just the two of them hanging out, so they’re always in private. Sometimes they’ll just finish talking about whatever they were talking about, and Nora will reach over and kiss her. Autumn never initiates, but… she doesn’t stop her, either. She doesn’t really know why, except… it was just never like this with Dean. When they kissed, Autumn was just waiting for it to be over. She would’ve never let it go on for as long as she does with Nora. She could probably spend a whole afternoon on Nora’s couch with their lips locked lazily and not mind at all. She’s never felt like this before. It’s honestly kinda scary, but it's like she can’t find it within herself to put a stop to it.  

When she and Nora dye each other’s hair mid way through junior year, Kimberly from her math class, the girl who’s dating Dean now, says; “Dean told me he’s glad you dumped him, ‘cause you look like a dyke now, and he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.”

Autumn thinks about it more than she should.

Because she knows it’s just a stupid insult, Kimberly could’ve used the word “stupid” or “ugly” and it would’ve meant the same thing.

But that’s not the word she used.

Autumn’s always been a little too aware of how she’s perceived. Nora always calls her a stiff, but Nora is white passing. She doesn’t get it. People are always looking at Autumn, waiting for her to make a mistake. People are always judging her everywhere she goes in this town, like she doesn’t belong. There’s only one other black family at church. She doesn’t even know them. Autumn has lived in a lot of places while her dad moves with the military, but she’s never lived in a town this small. 

Becoming friends with Nora has made Autumn want to embrace how out-of-place she feels. Nora is so unabashedly herself, and she doesn’t accept anything less than authenticity from Autumn, too. She cares about what other people think— Nora gets insecure and frustrated with herself. But she never listens to that fear. She tells it to fuck off. It’s nice to just be a weirdo sometimes, to not care what people think of your style or music taste.

But Kimberly didn’t call her weird. 

Autumn knows she’s not… that. But isn’t what she and Nora doing kinda…? But it’s not gay because they’re not dating, and Nora doesn’t like her like that. They’re only practicing, so it doesn’t really count. She hasn’t thought about it like that before Kimberly said something. Would other people think that, if they knew what they were practicing?

They probably would. Autumn realizes that day in a cold sheen of panic. But that’s not who I am, that’s not what I want them to see me as. It isn’t like that. It’s not like that. I’m not like that.

She wonders if Nora’s ever had this thought. She wonders if Nora is gay. If Nora was gay, would she tell Autumn? Maybe. But… maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe Nora is gay. She does make a lot of jokes about Autumn being her hero and how she’d spend every day with her if she could, and she is really touchy. Would it make Autumn gay to be kissing a girl who she thinks may be gay? 

If Nora was gay, would she really want to kiss me?

When Nora asks to try practicing again that night after school, Autumn turns away like she didn’t hear her. Nora asks again, a little strain to her voice as she tries to laugh it off. Autumn doesn’t even look at her.

After that, Nora goes back to her homework and never asks again, and Autumn promises herself that she isn’t disappointed. 

They’re best friends. Nora and Autumn, the sun and the moon. They’re fine. Everything’s fine.

No, seriously, it is.

…

“Oh! You two should kiss!”

Nora has only known Swann for like two days, but she’s quickly becoming one of her favorite people. Nora always figured if other people started hanging out with her and Autumn, it would feel like an intrusion. But this felt like an expansion of what Autumn and Nora already had with each other. Autumn and Nora had built themselves a place they belonged, and Kat and Swann have gotten inside and made themselves at home. They’re the same flavor of losergirl that Nora and Autumn are. Everything fits. Weirdly so.

It’s weird because Nora always figured she and Autumn were each other’s complimentary colors, you know? Whatever Nora doesn’t have, Autumn did, and vice versa. But that wasn’t as true as she used to think.

Autumn and Nora are both weirdos, but they care about what other people think. Autumn goes about life like the worst could happen at any moment, and anyone she meets might have the worst intentions. As much as Nora refuses to admit it, she’s terrified of not being liked.

Swann and Kat aren’t like that. 

It’s easy to tell that Swann can be insecure. About her appearance, her likability. She’s quiet, she doesn’t like bringing attention to herself. But she never downplays how weird she is. Nora has been swatting bugs off her arms all day in disgust, and Swann takes every opportunity to explain, like, what type of bug they are and why they’re not trying to hurt anyone. For all of Swann’s palpable awkwardness, she is hiding absolutely none of herself. She doesn’t put her camcorder down, she doesn’t miss an opportunity to ask her new friends to pose for her, even if she’s clearly anxious about it. 

And Kat… honestly, Nora isn’t sure she knows what the phrase “self-conscious” means. She’s not exactly like Nora— doing reckless things without a second thought. She thinks it through, she just doesn’t care about the risk. She’s not doing it to look cool or to impress anyone, she’s doing it because she can. It’s kinda weird that Nora can already tell the difference.

Autumn and Nora have been in a band for, like, a year, and have done nothing but dick around. Swann and Kat are making it come to life. They take action. Nora didn’t realize she doesn’t really do that until she met these two. But it’s true— Autumn is cautious and Nora is lazy, but Kat and Swann fill them with some kind of urgency. Swann, with her quiet and simple but all-consuming love of narratives, captures animals and making stories on her camcorder, the urge to create and express. Kat with her unquenchable adventurous spirit, ushering them onwards into going places they never would’ve gone before, trying things they never would’ve tried otherwise. They’re both so contagious.

There’s a fire lit under their asses now, they’ve been given an urgent push forward. Nora wants to take off now, she wants to play music, she wants to do something with her summer, as if she’d been wasting all her time before she met Kat and Swann. 

They’re still just sort of getting to know each other, but the request Swann makes, makes Nora’s stomach churn.

But it was in that kind of pleasant way it did when Autumn had kissed her for the first time. 

Nora shakes away the memory. The cold slice of rejection Autumn had delivered out of nowhere in the middle of February. So decisive, so… calculated. Nora wondered how long Autumn had been fed up with Nora and her antics leading up to that day. It isn’t weird that Nora had enjoyed it. Kissing is supposed to be enjoyable. Isn’t that why people do it? Autumn probably found it gross or annoying that she enjoyed it so much, but it doesn’t matter now. That was months ago now, and obviously Autumn doesn’t think about it anymore. Nora doesn’t either. 

It is kinda weird though. Nora misses the kissing. But since Autumn is over it and Nora doesn’t like any of the boys at school, she hasn’t had a chance to kiss anyone else. 

So she looks down at Kat, and thinks about it. 

Kat isn’t like anyone Nora has ever met. She isn’t impulsive or reckless like Nora is, she’s… something else. Brave. Fearless, even. She makes Nora think of the phrase Carpe Diem that she learned about in English. She’s, like, really cool. She likes punk music and complemented how Nora does her make-up once. She's so full of passion and fury. She has the most insane ideas— and it’s so impossible to say no to her because she looks at you and there’s so much fervor in her tiny frame. She can be really intense. Even looking into her eyes right now— what would it be like to stare into eyes so filled with emotion and fire from a hair breath’s distance? 

“Okay!” Nora chirps, decided.

“Uh, kiss?” Kat repeats. 

Nora walks to stand on the other side of Kat, leaned against the rusted old motorbike. Nora doesn’t look at Autumn. What she was doing with her was only practice kissing. Like, obviously. That’s probably why Autumn had wanted to stop, because Nora didn’t need to practice anymore and Autumn could probably tell she wasn’t doing it just to make sure she was good at it anymore. This is why she learned in the first place, right? So she’d be good at it in moments like this?

Not that— okay. Sure, the idea behind practicing was that when she had a boyfriend or something, she’d be able to wow him on a first date or whatever, but Nora thinks that’s applicable here. Maybe it’s not the exact “wow” she was imagining in context, but she was totally going to impress her new friend with a well rehearsed kiss. She’s almost, like, giddy at the idea of it. 

Nora knows she’s good at it now.

She doesn’t look at Autumn. She wonders if Autumn is looking at her, though, and thinking about how she’s the one that taught her to kiss like that.

“And… action!” Swann called.

Kat was looking down at her feet, not at Nora. 

“So… um…” 

“Go for it, Dylan.” Swann encourages behind her camcorder.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Autumn chants.

Nora gives another look to the camera, to Swann, and grins. She turns to Kat who still isn’t looking at her, but takes the cue to awkwardly shuffle in Nora’s direction. Neither of them really know what to do with their arms at first, and Kat still won’t look in her direction, which isn’t helping. 

Finally, Nora cups the back of her head with one hand, and the other rests at her cheek. And Kat’s eyes land on her.

There it is. 

Nora pulls Kat closer so they’re breathing in each other's air. She bats her eyes, all too aware of the camera on her. Ste revels in all the eyes on her. She wonders if this will look cool in the music video. She wonders if Kat thinks she looks cool right now.

“How could you resist these juicy lips? Get over here, Corey!”

When Nora pulls Kat into the kiss, she goes tense all over. But she kisses back. She keeps her hands to herself, awkwardly floating between them like she has no clue what to do with them. But Kat tilts her head at the last second and everything is warm. Kat’s exhale that tickles her cheek, her bangs that brush against Nora’s forehead, Nora’s chest as it constricts, the side of her neck where she can feel her pulse pounding. 

When Nora pulls away, Kat looks at her with that same intensity, and it makes Nora want to melt.

“And… that’s a wrap!” Swann calls from behind her camera. 

Kat hastily looks away, and Nora lets go of her, letting Kat put as much space between them as she wants. Which is kind of a disrespectful amount, actually. Nora is too giddy to feel hurt by it. 

She feels lightheaded for a second, heart pumping blood through her body and head too fast. Nora knew, on some level, it probably wasn’t exactly “normal” to feel this way about kissing girls, but Nora didn’t care enough to look into that further. All she could think was; she’d missed being able to do this. She missed the anxious flutters, the warmth of another girl next to her, the softness of her skin. 

It wasn’t exclusive to Kat or Autumn, she’d enjoyed kissing them pretty much the same amount. As far as Nora knew, she just liked kissing. Which, like, is the whole point of it, right?

“So…” Autumn says after a minute, “how’d it taste?”

“Taste?” Kat balked. “I didn’t use my tongue.”

Making a show of it, Nora licked her lips and the roof of her mouth. “Kinda like… Pizza.” She says. Maybe unintentionally thinking about what Autumn’s first kiss tasted like, that smokey afternoon with warm takeout. “Kidding. But that would be amazing.”

…

On July 15th, Autumn hosts a game night at her house. Her parents are cool in a way Kat didn’t realize parents even could be. When it gets late and no one wants to go home, they let all of them sleep over.

It’s late in the night, and Kat is trying to force her eyes open. They’re all in their sleeping bags chatting, and Kat is having too much fun to want to sleep. She’s aware of her body’s waining energy, the exhaustion that tugs at her limbs. She knows she’s going to hate herself tomorrow when she wakes up unrested and is barely able to get up for the day. But they only have this summer. Kat can’t bring herself to make it end. 

“Okay, guys,” Autumn interrupts Nora, who was in the middle of some story involving her little half brother, “seriously, let’s get some sleep.”

Nora groans and rolls onto her back. “But I’m not even tired!” Which Swann giggles at.

“Yeah, but I am.” Autumn argued. Just for a second, Kat catches Autumn looking at her as she says it. “Go get washed up, Nor. We can talk more in the morning.”

Kat’s heart pounds on the double at the brief bit of eye contact. Even after Kat had tried to hide it, Autumn had known she was tired. She didn’t ask why, it probably didn’t even occur to her to wonder why Kat may get tired quicker than the rest of them. She did nothing to call Kat out, making herself to blame instead.

When Kat first met Autumn, she thought she was a little strung up, but cool. Now Kat can see how much Autumn cares. About, like, literally everything. She remembers things about her friends— like Nora’s favorite soda, or Swann’s actual music taste. Her quiet concern about Kat’s lack of sleep or energy is noticeable, where the others hadn’t quite seen it, but not smothering. It’s casual, an intimate shrug-away hand she offers to Kat. Assistance or help without giving it a second thought, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Autumn doesn’t know she’s sick, so she can’t be doing it because Kat is sick. This isn’t special treatment, Autumn would do this for anyone. Somehow, that makes it more special.

Something blooms in her chest.

They brush their teeth side to side in the bathroom, and when Kat rinses off her toothbrush, she puts a gentle hand on Autumn’s wrist. 

“Thank you.”

Autumn blinks in the mirror, toothbrush still in her mouth. She looks away. “‘or ‘hat? She says around the toothpaste in her mouth.

Kat only smiles, mostly to herself, as she leaves Autumn be.

…

“I dare you to kiss Kat.” Nora demanded. “And this is revenge for the hickey thing, by the way. I hate you both.”

Autumn jolted where she sat on the floor of the cabin, suddenly all too aware of how many eyes were on her.

“Ugh, you’re being dramatic.” Kat shoots back.

Nora gestures to her arm. “I have to go home like this! You’re gonna give my stepmom an aneurysm.”

Kat’s smirk widened. “At least I didn’t go for the neck. I totally could’ve, you know.”

Nora flushed a burning shade of red and scoffed, turning away.

Nora is the worst about truth or dare.

First of all, she’s no fun. She always picks truth, and she has no sense of shame. She’ll admit to anything. And then she’ll always come up with the most embarrassing dares to ever exist. Seriously, what’s so funny about making Autumn squirm? There’s no reason for Nora to enjoy it so much, that asshole.

“Fine. Just, whatever.” Kat sighs, as if reluctant. 

“Wha— hold on.” Autumn interrupted. “Nora, I’m not kissing anyone.”

Nora’s smile turned wicked. “Oh yeah? You’re backing out?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I guess the game’s over, everyone!” Nora announced.

“Aw, no!” Swann gasped. “But I have a really good dare, and I haven’t gotten the chance to ask anyone yet!”

Then, Autumn was caught between Swann’s big pleading eyes, Nora’s wide smirk, and Kat. Autumn decided to just look at Kat.

Who was looking right back at her. 

She can’t read Kat’s expression. She doesn’t look upset or grossed out by the dare, but she doesn’t seem too eager either. She just sits there, waiting for Autumn’s decision.

Autumn can never read Kat. Actually, she’s just never met anyone like Kat before. There’s something about her that’s just so… untethered, compared to the rest of their friends. She’s too perfect to be real. Too abstract, too… free. Not bound by shame or fear, not bound by anything. Like she could disappear at any moment. There’s something in Autumn that wants to tether her to the ground, keep her here so she couldn’t get away from them. But she also knows that to do such a thing would rob Kat of all the things Autumn admires about her. 

“Autumn, come on!” Nora urges. “Swann wants to go next.”

Autumn’s hesitance must be written all over her face, because Kat’s look turns sympathetic. “It’s okay.” She says. “You don’t actually have to. Nora can come up with something better.”

Autumn frowned. She didn’t want to ruin the game for everyone. It was her idea to begin with, and everyone was having fun so far. But she didn’t want to just randomly kiss Kat— people— like that. She knows it’s no big deal to people like Nora, but Autumn isn’t like that. She can’t just kiss somebody and have it be nothing. Kisses should be special. 

Not that it really matters in this context, because Autumn isn’t fantasizing about romantic candlelight dinners with Kat or anything. 

So Autumn shuffles over to where Kat is sitting. Without looking at her, Autumn leans in closer, heart rattling in its cage. Fighting the urge to bolt or hesitate longer than she already is— Autumn plants a quick kiss to Kat’s cheek.

(Since she isn’t looking directly at Kat when she aims for the kiss, it lands closer to the corner of her mouth instead. Not that this matters.)

“Booo!” Nora jeers. “That doesn’t count.”

“You didn’t specify anything aside from kissing.” Autumn rebuked. “It so counts!”

Swann laughs at her antics. “Aw, leave them alone, Nora. It’s my turn!”

Autumn doesn’t look to see Kat’s reaction, if she has one. She should’ve known Nora would find a way to make this weird.

[Kat’s eyes stayed glued on Autumn as she slips away, scooting back over to the other side of the circle they were sitting on on the floor of Fawn’s Rest. The space where she’d kissed was burning, and she brought a shaking hand up to touch it. 

Autumn wouldn’t even look at her, looking uncomfortable and ashamed. Kat frowned at the ground. 

Whatever. It’s whatever.]

…

Kat can’t think of anything besides the softness of Swann’s skin under her fingertips where Kat holds her face still, running a tube of lip gloss over her bottom lip. She should’ve taken the opportunity to place the pad of her finger against those lips before she applied the makeup. 

There’s no part of her that wants to look away, that wants to hide how badly she wants to touch and feel. She’s glad Swann’s eyes are closed, because Kat doesn’t have the words to explain how mesmerizing Swann’s scattered freckles and long brown eyelashes are. 

Swann doesn’t even know how gorgeous she is, isn’t that insane?

It’s strange, because Kat is usually full of words, but she has none for this. Kat has tried to put it into words before. She's written it out in her notebook in freeform poetry, but she still can’t capture what Swann really means to her. What all of their friends, this summer, means to Kat.

She doesn’t know if anyone’s ever felt the way Kat feels right now. She can’t even find an Emily Dickinson quote to describe it. She feels so stuffed full of happiness, she could explode. It’s like she’s been cramped inside an iron maiden her whole life— trapped and too fearful of the potential pain to risk moving. For the first time in her whole life, Kat is finally in a place where she fits. She's not contorting her body to avoid the spikes, she’s relaxed into the gentle embrace of her closest friends in the world.

She loves them. She knows she does.

Kat knows Swann understands this, at least. It’s so strange to meet someone and see yourself in them, after being so alone for your whole life. But that’s who Swann is to Kat— they are matching in nearly every way for two people to match. Kat had begun to believe no one experienced the kind of odd loneliness and isolation Kat had, but here was Swann. She was real, and breathing, and Kat had her here, cradled in between her palms.

Kat wanted to find the words. She wanted Swann to know. She wanted all of them to know just how much they mean to her. But she doesn’t know how to do that without mentioning her leukemia.

This is the first time in her life where she’s been introduced to people without her illness being front and center in the introduction since she was a little kid. Her friends— they treat her just like anyone else. No one yells at her not to climb up the watch tower or to take it easy when swimming in the lake. Kat knows her own limits, and her friends haven’t said anything when Kat takes breaks or sits out for a bit. She doesn’t feel excluded or singled out. Kat has always known she hates that feeling, but she didn’t realize just how much she loathed it until she was just one of the crowd. 

Kat doesn’t want to tell them. That’s okay to want, right? She’s just so fucking sick and tired of this one tiny part of her being the center of attention all the time. Even though her friends don’t know about it yet, it’s still making itself known. When she inevitably runs out of energy and has to sit down, when she stands up too fast and gets dizzy, when the heat or the excitement gets to her head and she gets all woozy and nauseous— it’s everywhere. It’s constant. She hates it. She hates everything about it. She hates that she can’t hang out with her friends without it’s looming presence, she hates how she has to turn down activities she’s so excited about doing because she knows it’s outside her limits. It’s just always always always and she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. She wants a place to escape it all, somewhere she doesn’t have to talk about it, even if she can’t avoid thinking about it and feeling it in her every action. And these girls— this cabin— has given that to her. 

Nothing is patronizing, there’s no fear or pity in any of her friend’s eyes. None of them look at her like they’re prematurely mourning her, like she’s already dead. How could she possibly explain how understood and respected she feels with them, without mentioning how violated and belittled she feels with everyone else? How does she explain how strong and free she gets to feel at Fawn’s Rest without revealing how caged and fragile she’s been made to feel in her own home?

What if they treat her differently when they find out? Like Dylan, when Kat had first been diagnosed. Suddenly growing up and acting like an adult— like a mom. 

No Kat, you can’t do this. Kat, I’m worried about you. Kat, it’s too risky. Just stay inside, Kat. Stay here with me and rot away doing nothing. 

Kat can’t stand the thought of losing this. Her only escape, the only place she fits in and feels like her own person. 

She’s so used to getting frustrated with herself for not being able to keep up with the other kids, for falling behind in a way she can’t prevent. But she keeps up with Swann, Autumn, and Nora. Sometimes it feels like they’re a single unit instead of four individual people. 

They share her words, her song— her hate for Corey, for conformism, for everyone that makes people like them feel small or unwanted. It’s not Kat alone against the tide of harassment and judgement—  she has people on her side now. People who are going to shout it all out loud with her, people who want to sing her words at a concert, for everyone to hear. 

For the first time in her life, Kat doesn’t feel like she’s slowing anyone down. She doesn’t feel like she’s being kept in a glass box for display. She feels like the version of herself she’s always dreamed of being; loud, angry, free. She’s a kid— a real person— someone’s friend and equal— for the first time. She can’t get enough of it.

Kat wonders if Swann would get that. She thinks so. Probably. Swann gets it, she always does.

Kat realizes she’d finished Swann’s makeup when Swann opens her eyes, and suddenly, she’s staring into the same eyes that had held her hand so gently just to remove a splinter. The eyes that kept pointing its camera at Kat, even when there was nothing interesting to see. Those eyes that saw everything with more reverence and attention than Kat ever thinks to give anything— animals, discarded beer bottles, empty playgrounds,  patches of grass or flowers. 

“Um… How do I look?”

“I…. You know, Swann.” Kat stutters. “Um… don’t— Don’t look at me like that, you’re making me nervous.”

Swann blinks up at her a couple times, makeup all but forgotten. She leans just a touch forward, as if she just needs to hear Kat better in order to understand. 

Or maybe… maybe she feels that magnetic pull too. 

“I… want to tell you something.” The urge to puke it all out is overwhelming, but Kat still doesn’t have the words. It’s so enormous, all that she feels in that moment. 

I think we were made of the same stuff.

I’ve never felt at home with anyone but you three.

Is this as new for you as it is for me?

Do you understand how I feel? Do you feel it too?

“Make out!”

Kat jolts, glancing at Nora out of the corner of her eye as her face flushes against her will.

“Nora.” Autumn scolds.

“What?!” Nora replies. “I wanna watch!”

It’s like Kat is trapped under Swann’s warm, honey gaze. She can’t look away. Everything around them is warm and comfortable— not even Nora’s interruption has broken the spell. Nora is part of the warmth, and so is Autumn. She wants all three of them wrapped around her, she wants them to melt into one. 

“Pervs.” Kat chides, but it falls so unbelievably flat. 

Swann looks amazing like this, in punk fashion and smokey eyes. She’ll be able to tell her that soon. 

…

The moment Kat falls over, dread piles in Autumn’s stomach. And when Dylan tells them why, it only gets worse. 

She’s barely able to sleep that night, her stomach churning in guilt and fear as the scene repeats in her mind.

My friend is dying my friend is dying my friend is dying.

No matter how many times she repeats it, it doesn’t seem real.

And yet, Autumn can’t stop replaying that moment in her mind. And so many little signs of Kat’s illness beforehand that she hadn’t picked up on. And she keeps thinking; if I had asked, if I had said something, if I had noticed, could we have prevented this?

The more Autumn stews on it, the more angry she gets. Why didn’t she notice it sooner? Why couldn’t she have been more proactive? In hindsight, it’s obvious! All those times Kat stayed behind or took a knee to “tie her shoe.” Why did they let Kat talk them into putting on a whole show? Why did any of them think that was a good idea? Aside from Kat’s health, what did they think they were gonna do with that? Make a statement? Or some kind of difference? How did any of them think anything but mockery and punishment would come of this?

Autumn grows mad at Nora. She calls her home phone, and the phone number she knows belongs to her mother. Nora never picks up. 

Why can Autumn never count on her? Autumn’s always there when Nora needs her, why can’t Nora ever do the same? She's supposed to be Autumn’s best friend, and she’s shutting her out when she knows Autumn needs her. 

She grows mad at Kat. Why didn’t she say anything? Why did she lie to them all this time? Why did she let them throw that performance if she knew her body might suffer for it?

Most of all, she grows resentful at herself. Why did she let herself go along with it? Why didn’t she just stop it from happening?

The concert was a horrible idea. 

It’s just so… big. Autumn’s never had to face anything like this before. There’s nothing for Autumn to do about it. Nothing can be done. She’s never felt so helpless before.

Kat, who was always the most adventurous out of all four of them. Kat, who had so much more to say to the world. Kat, who Autumn can’t reach at the hospital. Kat— who had inspired the part of Autumn that wanted to do something that matters to act on it. And now there’s no action for her to take. There’s nothing for her to do. 

She’s scared, and there’s nothing she can do but think about it. And she tries not to think about it, not to feel, but she can’t stop. It just loops over and over— Kat falling to the ground, the helplessness, the fear, the anger, over and over again. And she’s scared and she’s worried and she’s mad and she’s scared and she can’t stop thinking. 

She can’t do it. She can’t do it anymore. Every time she thinks about their song or the band or their spot in the woods, all she can see is Kat Kat Kat. She doesn’t want to go back there again, she doesn’t want to see any of them, she doesn’t want to feel this overwhelmed all the time.

I should’ve told her how much I admire her ability to turn feelings into prose. I should’ve said how much her fearlessness inspires me. I should’ve—

She wanted to disappear. From all of it. From the band, from the Abyss, from this summer. And she probably would’ve disappeared had Swann not been at Fawn’s Rest that day. 

It’s not possible to be mad at Swann. It just isn’t. She’s got these big doe eyes, and being around her makes you feel warm. Those big eyes were pleading with Autumn to stay, but Swann helped her pack up anyway. She stayed even when everything got too loud. She held Autumn’s hand to take her away from there.

“We just have to stick together.” Swann said, as they dangled their legs over the Abyss together.

“I hope you’re right.”

Less than an hour ago, this had all felt insurmountable. Too scary, too much, to face. But Autumn wasn’t facing it alone. Swann was here. She was always here.

Swann didn’t always know the right thing to say, and usually she came off as awkward or unsure of herself, but she’s always so sincere. In everything she does, everything she says. Swann doesn’t downplay what she’s feeling, she doesn’t try to hide it. She says what’s on her mind— even if it sometimes comes off as unconfident, she’s always truthful to herself and what she thinks or feels. Almost like she doesn’t know how to be anything else. It’s hopelessly endearing. 

Swann scoots closer to Autumn where they sit, so they’re pressed side to side. “I thought I might lose you.” She says, and Autumn knows that fear comes straight from her heart.

When Autumn takes her hand, the kiss she places there feel natural. Intimate. It feels like what she and Swann should be doing. 

Autumn looks into Swann’s big doe eyes, and Autumn knows that nothing is scary or overwhelming enough to keep her away.

…

“Swann! It’s for you!”

“Coming, mom!”

It’s not like Swann was waiting by the phone like a lovesick teenager, but… she hasn’t heard from anyone since the concert. Anything, any word, and sign of life would be so relieving. 

Swann has never had friends like this. She didn’t even know she could feel like this— all out of sorts when they’re gone. She’s only one part of a whole now— one part of Bloom and Rage. She doesn’t even feel right without the rest of them within arm’s reach.  

Nora’s voice on the phone is a welcome reprieve. 

“Oh, dude, I’m so glad you’re actually home!” Nora said over the phone, right after Swann’s ‘hello?’ “I was so worried you’d be out and I’d totally miss you!”

“Nora!” Swann exclaims, some part of her relaxing at the knowledge that not all of her friends are avoiding her. 

“You know it! I’m back in Velvet Cove finally!” Nora told her. “You should come over if you’re not busy. I got you some souvenirs while I was in L.A. Plus, I, like, miss you, dude.”

“I miss you too.” Swann says in a rush. “Is it okay if I come over right now? I mean, I’m not doing anything.”

“Yeah dude, of course.” Nora replies. 

Swann is at Nora’s garage door in fifteen minutes, sweaty and out of breath. Nora lifts the opening up and Swann all but jumps into her arms. Nora, unprepared for it, stumbles back and laughs, but Swann doesn’t let go. 

It’s weird to admit (so she doesn’t, not out loud), but Swann has been so scared this past week. It felt like everyone left her all at once. Nora went to California, Kat has been in the hospital until, like, yesterday— and the Michaelsen’s won’t let her talk on the phone. And Autumn just keeps avoiding her. If Swann hadn’t run into her at Fawn’s Rest, who knows if they ever would’ve made up again. Even just holding Nora again, being able to see her, made it all real again. 

Swann has never had friends like this, and some deep part of her is certain she never will again. She doesn’t want to let this go, she doesn’t ever want this summer to end. She wants to feel this way forever; connected to a larger whole, a piece of something bigger. Here, holding Nora to her body, she felt somehow more complete.

It’s so strange to feel like there are all these people that just… like Swann. She’s never really been valued like that before…? Not that she can remember, anyway. For the first time in her life, she feels important to someone. 

Nora is pretty good at making Swann feel important, actually. She doesn’t hide the attention she gives. It’s kinda nice, actually. Especially since Swann isn’t exactly known for being the best at reading through the lines. 

“You dork.” Nora said into the top of her head. She’s so tall. “I was only gone a week.”

“It felt like forever.” Swann tells her. 

Nora giggles and Swann suddenly feels lighter than air. As Nora leads Swann into the garage and starts talking her ear off, Swann is floored by how much she missed this. Just the way Nora talks— she’s so easy to be around. The dread of uncertainty that has been hanging so heavily over Swann for the past week is all but gone right now. 

Nora sometimes acts like she doesn’t have a care in the world, even when Swann can tell she does. Swann loves that Nora is never afraid of saying what’s on her mind. It’s like she doesn’t experience shame, or just doesn’t care if people judge her for being loud or openly flirtatious.

Which is why it’s so strange to see a version of Nora that isn’t talking about it. 

Nora is navigating around it, she hasn’t been letting her worry over Kat eat her up inside. She can tell Nora is scared too, and she’s taking the biggest step to the left to avoid it. But Swann is scared too. Swann can see Nora leaning on her as much as Swann is leaning on Nora. It’s reassuring, in a way. Swann isn’t alone in her fear and uncertainty. She can tell Nora feels it too— being scared alone is isolating. But they’re not alone anymore, they’re together now. It makes it that much more manageable.

They’re sitting so close on the couch now, and Swann has never been more glad that Nora is as touchy as Swann is. 

…

Nora wants to admit it to Swann, but she can’t. 

She’d wanted to go up there and see Kat with her, but she’d been too scared. Facing Kat meant facing the reality of what was going on. 

Nora’s being a pussy about the whole thing, and she knows it.

“I would’ve brought her with me if they hadn’t kicked me out.” Swann tells her. “Her hair is all cut off now. It looks really cool.”

Nora nods absently. This is maybe the fourth time Swann has tried to start a conversation since they went to watch the meteor shower.

“Nora, are you okay?”

Nora doesn’t answer it directly. She bellyaches about Autumn not being here. She laments about the gift she was going to give to Kat. She feels alone. She knows it’s her own fault she feels alone. And she curls in on herself, and Swann is trying to talk to her, but Nora knows she’s annoying and she knows she’s taking up space and no one has ever just watched Nora the way Swann does. Nora doesn’t have to work for it to keep Swann’s attention.

Nora still remembers when Autumn, her first close friend, got together with Dean. She’d thought; even if her parents don’t have time for her, at least her friends will. And then, suddenly, Autumn had no time for her. Suddenly, Nora’s presence was unwanted. Again. 

She remembers hating Dean with every fiber of her being. She remembers wishing he didn’t exist so she could have Autumn all to herself. Which was insane, actually. She remembers acting out and showing up at Autumn’s house unannounced and doing crazy shit just to make her worried about Nora’s wellbeing, all because she wanted Autumn’s attention back.

This summer has made her feel like all of that was so far behind her. Like she didn’t need to fight for the kind of affection she wanted. And now Kat was so far away from them, and Nora didn’t know how to talk to Autumn, and—

“What’re we gonna do?”

When Nora turns to look at Swann, Swann is already looking at her. Swann sees her. Because Swann sees everything. In Swann’s eyes, Nora feels like she’s being studied, like those butterflies they pin to corkboards.

Nora has felt lonely her whole life until she met these girls. She was out-of-place and unwanted. But who cares if her dad doesn’t want her around? Screw him! Nora doesn’t want his approval, she doesn’t want him around.

In this moment as Swann looks at her, Nora wants Swann to want her. She wants Swann to keep looking at her like that and never look away. Nora would pose for her camera forever if it meant Swann didn’t forget her. 

“Nora…” 

She can’t tell who leans in first, or if maybe they both do. All she knows is that Swann’s lips are pressed up against hers and Nora feels seen. She's welcome here, in Swann’s embrace. She thinks vaguely that she’s probably Swann’s first kiss. Just like she was Kat’s first kiss, and—

“I’m sorry.” Nora says. “I probably taste like cigarettes.”

…

“You didn’t make me a bracelet, huh?” Autumn asks, walking next to her down the black pavement. Their houses are close together, so it makes sense Autumn would walk with Nora back home after the meteor shower. Yet, somehow, it feels more like she’s been cornered. “Didn’t call, either.”

“I already said I’m sorry.” Nora mumbled, looking at her sneakers. 

“…Was your mom’s place cool?”

Nora risks a glance up at Autumn. Yep, she’s still mad. 

“Yeah. I really like LA. It’s so much bigger than here.”

“I’m glad you’re back, now.” Autumn replied. “I needed you, you know.”

The pit in Nora’s stomach grows deeper. “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” Autumn snaps. “Why didn’t you at least pick up the phone?”

“I don’t know.” Nora replied.

Autumn grabbed Nora’s arm, forcing her to stop walking. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

Nora won’t look at her. Can’t look at her. 

“I already said I’m sorry.” Nora mumbled. “Besides, you wouldn’t have wanted a bracelet.”

Autumn scoffs, letting go of her. “I wouldn’t have wanted one? Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“You wouldn’t have!” Nora insists. “I’ve known you longer than they have, and I already know you don’t want— that you don’t like—“

She choked on it, because where the fuck is Nora even going with this? God, this is pathetic. Tears are forming in the corners of her eyes.

Because Nora’s starting to realize how she feels for Swann. It’s the same way she feels about Kat. And that’s the same way she’s always felt about Autumn. But— before Nora knew the name to this feeling, way back before they’d formed Bloom and Rage, Nora had already known Autumn didn’t feel the same way. Nora kinda wishes she could go back to before she’d realized what kind of love this is, because this is so stupid. It’s stupid, and it sucks.

Nora covers her eyes. “God damn it, see? See? This is why I didn’t call you! Because you know me better than anyone else, and if you— you would just look at me— and I wouldn’t— I—“

Stupid. So stupid. Because it should just be enough. But Nora still wants. She wants Swann to want her, and she wants Kat to want her. She wants her mom to want her around, and she wants her stupid dad to pay attention to her and actually care when she steals his stupid bear. And she wants Autumn to want her back. Why can’t one of these be enough? Because it isn’t. It’s never enough. Nora needs everyone to look at her and acknowledge her all the time and it’s so pathetic and it’s tearing her apart. 

Autumn has wrapped her arms around Nora before she even realizes what’s happening. God, she’s trying so hard not to cry. Autumn is making it impossible. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She mumbles, barely breathing. But of course she would’ve. Autumn always sees right through her. Fuck. Nora’s getting scared that Autumn will see all that explosive want in her before Nora is brave enough to place the proper name on it. 

“You don’t have to be cool all the time, Nor.” Autumn replies, almost uncharacteristically soft against her ear.

But I want you to think I’m cool. 

…

Swann will never forget the feeling of being hunted down like an animal. 

She had been terrified. Not only for herself, but for her friends. And she’d been scared of Corey before— he’s the absolute worst. He threatens people and intimidates them into doing what he wants. But she’d never been afraid of him hurting her before. 

Because that’s what it felt like. It felt like Corey was going to actually kill them. That’s how mad he was. People don’t chase other people down like that for pretend. Swann had never felt closer to death in that moment.

She wondered if this is how Kat and Dylan felt when they were alone with him. She wondered if this is how the deer felt during hunting season. No wonder Kat wanted to free them, Swann can’t imagine a worse way to go than this, helpless and terrified. Nothing more than the prize you win for winning a game.

But that fear feels so far away now. They’re in their secret haven. They’re safe now. Swann feels like nothing could ever touch them here. The Abyss is protecting them now. More important than that; they’re together. 

When Kat starts to move without the music, Swann immediately understands. It’s freedom. It’s pure expression. It’s love. 

The four of them move around each other. It’s natural. It’s inevitable. They orbit one another, four parts of a whole. This is comfortable because they’re so comfortable with each other, this feels right because they’re acting exactly how their body wish to. They already know the deepest parts of one another, and that’s why it feels right.

Swann brushes up against Nora, spins around Kat. But it’s Autumn who pulls her into the rhythm, and Autumn who Swann leans up to kiss. There’s no reason to, it just feels right. Why wouldn’t Swann kiss Autumn? Autumn is her best friend. She’s one of the coolest people Swann knows. Swann knows she can always talk to her, about anything. Shes smart, and she doesn’t give up on what she believes is right. She cares so deeply about her friends, and Swann cares about her. 

Swann likes watching her do cartwheels and cool skateboard tricks for her camcorder. She likes how Autumn always remembers the things Swann says, even when it’s not that important. She likes Autumn. And she likes Kat. And she likes Nora. And when Autumn’s lips fit against hers, it just feels right. There’s no other reason to do it. 

Swann thinks she sees Nora and Kat kiss out of the corner of her eye, but it doesn’t really matter. All four of them are one. All four of them belong together.

…

The last time Autumn sees Nora is their graduation.

Kat and Corey go missing on the same day, and Autumn can’t remember what happened. She, Swann, and Nora all promise never to see one another again. It’s pretty easy to do when Kat disappears out of thin air and Swann moves to Canada a week after. 

It’s harder with Nora.

Autumn sees Nora every single day. Their school is small and they share two classes their senior year. They sit on opposite sides of the classroom and ignore one another as best they can. More than a few people have come up to Autumn and asked if something happened between her and Nora, but Autumn never answers. She doesn’t really know what happened, anyway.

The worst part of it is how much Autumn misses them all. She hates how she doesn’t know what happened to Kat. How she could be dead or kidnapped or worse and she just wouldn’t know.

She hates that she has no idea how Swann is doing. If she settled into her new house okay, or if she’s making any friends at her new school. If she likes them more than she likes her.

Seeing Nora every day is torture. Because Autumn misses the fuck out of her, and she’s right there. So many times Autumn has wanted to say fuck it and march right up to Nora despite their promise. But every time she and Nora get to close, Autumn remembers the fire, the chase through the woods, the purple light that came out of the Aby—

And she turns around. 

She immediately forgets again when Nora is out of her line of sight. 

She would be okay if she could just talk to someone about it. She would still miss Swann and be worried as fuck about Kat, but she’d be all of those things with Nora. And then she wouldn’t be so fucking alone. Like how she was before she met Nora at detention that one day. Isolated. The only black girl in any given class she had to take. The only one who wasn’t born and raised in this tiny-ass town. The outsider.

She knows Nora misses her too. She catches her staring at Autumn ten times a day with big kicked puppy eyes, like someone just shot her dog. It makes Autumn ache. She starts to resent even looking at her.

And worst of all, she’s starting to realize how much she’d relied on Nora. To get her out of her comfort zone, to make her laugh, to make her feel normal and comfortable in her own skin. Autumn misses the awful cigarette smoke smell, she misses the one Björk song Nora knew and how she’d butcher the lyrics trying to play it. She even misses Nora’s childless petulance, and reluctance to do any physical labor, her fear of bugs, the way she’d cling to Autumn in the dark. She misses Nora being a scary cat and a crybaby, because she’d always been both. She misses Nora getting on her nerves, she misses when Nora would reach out and touch her because they were always alone together and it would be okay because no one would see them kiss—

She gets through the whole school year without talking to her once.

In the crowd of graduates after the ceremony, Autumn finally finds her parents. Her mom hugs her tight and her dad exclaims how proud he is that she’s finally out of high school. She’s aced her exams, and was already enrolled in a good college. She should be happy. She’s leaving this awful town forever. 

“Let’s go get some pictures with your friends, now!” Her mom directs after taking fifty billion Polaroid pictures of Autumn in her cap and gown.

Autumn’s smile wains and fades as she looks out at the crowd. She… she’s not really friends with any of these people. She’s an outsider. Autumn knows them all, she isn’t close with any of them. 

“We can just go.” Autumn says.

“Just a few more pictures.” Her mom insists. She sweeps her gaze across the crowd, as if trying to spot one of her church friends’ kids. God, she does not want to pose next to her mom’s church friends’ kids. “Look!” She exclaims, pointing somewhere off to her right. “Isn’t that Nora? You two used to be so close! Why don’t you get a picture with her? Just one, I promise.”

Autumn feels her breath catch in her throat, and she immediately whirled around to where her mom pointed.

Nora is alone in the crowd. Neither of her parents are there. She stands still, as if lost, clutching her diploma to her chest. Her cap and gown swallow her up, making her look tiny— even though Autumn knows Nora is taller than her. Maybe she just looks small because she looks miserable. She’s looking right at Autumn.

Once she realizes Autumn’s looking back, the moment they make eye contact, Autumn sees it. All of them putting their hands together. Kat disappearing between one blink and the next. The deer fleeing for their lives. Corey on that motorbike. The Abyss, calling to them. And she sees Nora, and their summer, and she sees that promise. 

Autumn is frozen where they lock eyes. She knows Nora is thinking it too; this is the last time they’ll ever see each other. They promised they wouldn’t after this. Autumn can’t look away, soaking up her presence for the last time. Her new piercing, the bangs sweeping her forehead that have grown out too much, the tears forming in her eyes. Autumn silently pleads with her, but she doesn’t know what for. For her to stay? For her to remember their promise and go?

The tears start to spill from Nora’s eyes, and she turns around, running away as fast as she can.

Crybaby, Autumn thinks with a bitter fondness she didn’t even think she knew how to feel.

And then she was alone.