Chapter Text
Everything was so bright.
Light floods in all at once, like a flashbang grenade she'd be a victim to in video games. Vi’s eyes burn, forcing her to blink again and again against her stinging, dry eyes. Her body feels wrong, every limb was slow to answer her, as if sleep had made them sluggish. Somewhere deep in her abdomen, a sensation between a sore and an ache unfurls, enough to pull a breath from her as her sense of touch crawls back to her piece by piece.
A silhouette hovers over her, close enough to blur at the edges. Vi squints, trying to make sense of it through the light and the haze, and then the answer hits her—unmistakable.
Caitlyn.
When her vision clears, she sees her face is streaked with tears, eyes red and swollen, dark shadows sitting beneath them like bruises. She looks worn thin, like someone who’s been held together by worry and Chinese takeout.
She didn’t sleep. Vi thinks her first thought after waking up is the realization settling slowly and heavily. She never does when she’s worried.
Even with all the distress carved into her face, there’s a shaky little smile of relief clinging to Caitlyn’s mouth, like it doesn’t know whether if it’s allowed to be there yet.
Then her hands are on Vi’s face, cold and trembling, and she folds forward, pressing her forehead to Vi’s chest. Her apologies come out messy and broken, soaked in sniffles and hiccups, words tripping over each other, while despite her groggy state, Vi catches it all.
“V-Vi… oh Vi… I’m s-so—hic—I’m so sorry. For how I treated you… I w-was awful. And you—hic—you still went out of your way, a-and—hic—got me presents. And then you—” her voice caves in and lets out a quiet whine, “you got hurt, and I—I was so scared. I–I missed you so dearly it was hic tearing me apart.”
She cries into Vi, holding on like a child who’s been lost for too long and made it home, like a Jenga block tower collapsing. Like every careful piece gives way, relief, guilt, and love crash down together.
Vi lifts her heavy arm, like it weighs more than it should, and lets it gently fall around Caitlyn’s back. Her hand rubs in slow, uneven circles, steady as she can make them.
Caitlyn’s breathing goes wild—short, jagged pulls of air, like she’s trying to breathe through water. Her chest jerks against Vi’s, panic clawing its way up her throat.
“Cupcake… baby, breathe. Breathe.” Vi’s voice comes out rough and scraped raw. She tugs gently at the collar of Caitlyn’s hoodie (that suspiciously looks like Vi's), grounding her, anchoring her back to the moment.
Caitlyn’s hands slide down to fist onto Vi’s hospital gown, knuckles white as she clings to her like a lifeline. Each breath sounded like it hurt, dragged slowly and shakily, but she kept going—one after another—until the panic loosened its grip, inch by inch.
“There you go, that's it,” Vi reassures as she gently pats her back in comfort.
Caitlyn makes a slight sound, almost like a mumble, which Vi couldn't make out, so she asks.
“Did you say something, Cupcake?” Vi asks gently.
“E-even after everything… you're still looking out for others,” her voice cracks but continues, “y-you're still looking out for me.”
She lifts her head from Vi’s chest, eyes glassy and raw, lashes clumped with tears. Her face looks wrecked—like she’s been holding herself together with shaking hands and finally ran out of strength. The sight hits Vi right in the chest, sharp and tight.
To everyone else, Caitlyn Kiramman is all steel and spine—duty worn like armor, responsibility held high like a banner. But Vi already knows what lives underneath. She’s seen the way Caitlyn feels things too deeply, loves like it’s instinct, and gives until there’s nothing left to give. A soft heart wrapped in walls of expectations, always trying to be enough.
And Vi knows—knows in her bones—that she sits at the very center of Caitlyn’s world. That if she’d lost the fight. If the eternal darkness had snapped at her lifeline, Caitlyn would’ve unraveled slowly in the background with no prying eyes, quietly grieving as her sense of ability begin to slip.
“I'll always look out for you, baby.” Vi rasped as she leaned slightly forward, with little strength. She had to press a kiss to her forehead. “For us.” A promise kept strong.
Caitlyn nods, a broken little sound catching in her throat. “I-I will too—hic—for us,” she cries back, jaw trembling like it might give way again. “For you. I'm sorry.”
They cling to each other tightly, but not enough to suffocate. They were both frayed, both breathing through the aftershocks, like survivors holding on to each other like a lifeline after a storm that had nearly taken everything.
☃︎♡☃︎
Caitlyn sticks to Vi’s side like a koala when she helps her sit up, arms tight, unwilling to let go. A nurse slips out and returns with Dr. Kiramman not long after word spreads that Vi’s awake. Then come the checks—the routinely medical prodding, the boring efficiency of it all.
“How are you feeling, Vi?” he asks, calm and practiced.
“Sore,” Vi says easily. “‘Specially deep in my abs.” He hums, already nodding.
“That’s to be expected. You were stabbed twice. And thankfully, the blade only grazed your vital spots. We managed to save most of your epithelial tissue. Had you been out there any longer…” He trails off, the rest of the words hanging heavily in the air.
Caitlyn goes rigid beside her. Her fingers curl into Vi’s forearm, grip tightening just enough for Vi to feel it. When Vi looks over, she catches the guilt and anger in Caitlyn’s eyes— Not at Vi. At herself.
“Well,” Vi says, turning back with a crooked smile, “I’m glad you saved me, Doc. Don’t think there’s anyone else I’d trust more.”
Dr. Kiramman laughs heartily, the tension easing just a notch. “Violet, please. We know each other. Call me Tobias.” He waves a hand, amused. “Unprofessional or not, you’re making me feel as rigid as a rod.”
A quiet giggle from herself follows, and for the first time since waking up, the room feels just a little lighter.
Tobias checks his watch and clears his throat, excusing himself as he heads for the door. He promises he’ll be back later in the evening, and mentions something about monitoring Vi for the next few hours.
“I can take care of her.”
The words land firm, final. Tobias studies Vi once more then to Caitlyn before he nods. Three weeks post-injury and she’s healing well—better than expected even. Caitlyn on the other hand, wriggled with her fingers beside Vi–worry buzzing in her movements like a live wire.
Vi tilts her head, lips twitching. “What's up Cupcake? Dontcha want me to 'heal properly' on this overused, leather bed and make me stare at white ass walls all day?”
“That's exactly why I'd like to get you out of here.” Caitlyn turns to her at once, spine straight, chin lifted. “And of course I do. My father has thoroughly trained me in handling these sorts of matters.” Her voice slips into that polished cadence, crisp and rehearsed. “We already have a medical kit at home suited for your condition. Everything is in order.”
Vi just stares at her.
Then she snorts, a quiet laugh slipping out. There it is—the boardroom tone. Caitlyn always did that when she was wound too tight, when her feelings were stacked too high to deal with. Like she was delivering a proposal instead of admitting she was terrified.
Caitlyn doesn’t meet her eyes, and she fidgets again. Like she’s still catching up to the idea that Vi is sitting here and still breathing. Still stubbornly alive. Still carrying the echo of their last fight, unfinished and left unsaid.
Vi’s smile fades, her thoughts drifting.
Can’t even remember what we were arguing about.
Vi huffs, lips curling as she looks Caitlyn up and down. “So,” she says lightly, voice tilting into something teasing and troublesome, “you’re just hunting for excuses just to get your way with me?” She grunts a laugh. “Here I thought I was the impatient one.”
She lets the implication hang there, smug and unbothered.
Caitlyn freezes.
The color pink blooms fast—cheeks first, then her neck, then all the way down to her collarbone like the sun burned on her skin. Vi’s chest gives a warm little bounce at the sight, a laugh caught somewhere behind her ribs.
Six years, she thought fondly. And I still have that effect on her.
“W–Well—” Caitlyn starts, clearing her throat, composure immediately unraveling. Her words trip over each other as she gestures vaguely, like her hands might help explain what her mouth can’t. “It’s just—I have something prepared for you, and I couldn’t— I mean, I didn’t want to wait any longer, and— of course I would, Vi, but you’re still— you’re still healing.”
Caitlyn's years of perfectly polished poise evaporate in just a single flirt, leaving bashful nerves in their place.
Vi watches her fondly with a soft grin. She doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t need to. Caitlyn, like this—flustered pink, trying—thinking too hard—has always been Vi's favorite version.
Vi cuts through Caitlyn’s adorable rambling with a murmur. “I can’t wait to come home with you too, Cait.”
Her hand slides over Caitlyn’s and gently clasps it firm and steady. Caitlyn’s breath catches, her mouth still half-open like she had more to say, but it all drains away. She just looks at Vi instead, eyes wide and shining, forming a wobbly smile before she collides with Vi for an embrace once again.
The next hours slip by without either of them noticing; their quiet talks always had that sort of magic. The light outside fades from gold to blue, then finally disappears altogether. At some point, Caitlyn starts turning towards the clock—too often to be subtle—and her eyes keep flicking to the door like she’s waiting for something. Her shoulders stay tight as she fidgets with her fingers until Vi squeezes her hand. Every time she does, Caitlyn exhales, like she’d been holding her breath without realizing it.
Vi keeps her tethered to the moment with mundane questions. How’s your mom? Has your dad been overworking again? Have you been going into the office lately? The normal stuff. Safe stuff. The kind of questions that make the room feel less like a hospital and more like them.
Then when Vi finally asks how she’s been—really been—Caitlyn doesn’t dodge it. To Vi's little surprise, her fingers curl tighter around her larger ones, and both gazes drops to their joined hands.
“I wasn’t,” she breathes the quiet confession. The words sit heavy between them. “Nearly losing you—” she stops herself. Doesn’t have the courage to continue. But the words that were left unsaid were thick and aching. Her chin dips, like she’s fighting against the instinct to shut down, to lock everything back behind that wall of pretentious composure.
“Hey,” Vi murmurs. “Look at me.”
Caitlyn’s head snaps to her instantly. Her eyes were wide and attentive, ready for whatever Vi needed.
“Come closer.”
Caitlyn doesn't hesitate. She slides her chair in without question, the legs scraping softly against the floor as Caitlyn nudges closer, her knees brushing against the bed. She checks Vi’s face, searching. Is this enough?
Vi’s mouth quirks. “Closer.”
She moves herself and the chair again. The gap between them shrinks until Caitlyn’s knees pressed on the bedside. Vi could sense Caitlyn's breath–uneven with nerves buzzing under her skin.
“Closer, Cait.”
There’s nowhere left to go–her chair won’t budge another inch. Vi flicks her gaze down at the mattress, and it clicks. Caitlyn plants her hands on the edge of the bed, leaning in, hovering so close Vi can feel Caitlyn’s breath ghosting against her lips.
That’s when Vi’s hand shot up, fingers curling around the back of Caitlyn’s neck. She tugged her down firmly, yet gently, meeting her halfway as she leaned forward with the bit of strength she had.
The kiss is soft, unhurried. Achingly familiar. A sensation they both cherished in their hearts.
They stayed like that for who the hell knows how long, soft hums and low groans tearing out of their throats like they’ve been starving for each other. Caitlyn takes the lead, hands cupping Vi’s face, gently biting and sucking on her lower lip like she had thought she could never do this again. The rest of the world seemed to vanish—like the room had shrunk down to just the two of them, because they didn't realize that someone had already slipped into the room with them earlier,
“Ahem.”
Caitlyn jerks upright, scrambling to fix herself. “R-right… sorry,” she stammers like she'd been caught doing something naughty (which she kind of was), words tumbling out like her brain was still tangled in the haze of the moment before she clears her throat.
“Well, as romantic as that was, Violet, you're officially discharged and free to go home,” Tobias announced, breaking the bubble around them.
Vi lets out a chuckle, half in disbelief, half at the sheer ridiculousness of leaving the hospital this early. “You sure? I mean… I’m not complaining about going home, but…”
Tobias gives a small, confident smile. “If you’re worried about anything terrible happening, I trust Caitlyn. She’ll take care of you, better than anyone else could. And if it's anything major, you have me at your disposal.”
Vi glances at Caitlyn, and she finds a soft smile tugging on her lips. Gone were her gloomy and dreadful expressions, the Caitlyn Vi came to know, and love was slowly returning, and Vi couldn't be happier.
☃︎♡☃︎
The ride home was quiet in that familiar way—streetlights sliding past the windows, the low hum of the engine steady and boring. Too normal. Like this was just another day, like Vi hadn’t been wrestling with death a few weeks ago and managing to live by a hair.
Caitlyn stayed close the entire time, one hand always hovering near Vi’s arm, her eyes flicking over every step she took as if one wrong move might make her come undone. Vi snorted under her breath, a smile sneaking in despite herself.
Overprotective and considerate. Don’t ever change, Cupcake.
When they finally stopped in front of their apartment door, Caitlyn froze, shoulders stiff, breath caught, as if her thoughts were loud again. Her brilliant and beautiful mind, albeit a little cruel in the way it always was when she started overthinking.
Before Vi could say a word, Caitlyn was already digging through her bag, keys clinking softly in her hands. The lock clicked, the door swung open, and Caitlyn slipped inside first, quick and purposeful.
“Wait—um.” Caitlyn paused, half-turned, nerves written all over the tight set of her shoulders. “Can you close your eyes for a second?”
Vi didn’t even ask why. She smiled and shut them right away. “No peeking,” Caitlyn added, voice thin but laced with a bit of excitement.
Vi laughed under her breath, hands lifting in mock surrender.
She listened instead. The audible tap of heels being kicked off and lined up on the rack. Socked footsteps padding across the floor. Drawers opening, something shifting, a quiet click here, a soft rustle there—sounds Vi had grown fond of. Anticipation curled in her chest as she stood there by the doorway, eyes closed, waiting.
Soft steps padded back toward her. Then a gentle tug at Vi’s sleeve, guiding her forward. “Careful,” Caitlyn murmured, close and warm, like she was afraid Vi might vanish if she wasn’t holding on.
A hand settled on Vi’s shoulders, stopping her. Caitlyn’s breath hitched—Vi heard it, felt it—before she whispered, almost reverent, “Okay… you can look now.”
Vi opened her eyes.
Warmth rushed in first. Not like the harsh white glare of hospital lights, but soft gold and glowing amber, the ambience wrapping around her like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Tiny shimmers of light blinked everywhere, steady, like they were singing.
Her gaze drifted to their Christmas tree. The same plain one she’d dragged home years ago and promptly ignored weeks ago—now dressed to the trunk, branches heavy with colorful ornaments and strung in lights, glowing like it had a heartbeat of its own, decorated like it was saying Caitlyn did this!
Her eyes kept moving, stunned. The fireplace glowed next, rivaling the tree with garlands draped neatly across it, fairy lights tangled with red and gold baubles, stockings lined up on the mantel like they’d been waiting all year.
She turned slowly, taking it all in. Where their books usually ruled the shelves, are now replaced by little ceramic Santas and elves that stood watch, smiling wide and cheery, strings of warm lights looping around them like a brightly lit bridge. Hand made paper mache of a makeshift snowman stood proud by the fire with a familiar top hat on its head, empty whiskey and wine bottles stuffed with fairy lights were meticulously placed in the empty spaces, hand made origami snowflakes, pine trees, and Santa and his reindeers hung from the ceiling like chandeliers.
Vi didn’t know where to look. Every spot her eyes landed felt intentional. Thoughtful. Like Caitlyn had poured herself into every corner while Vi wasn’t there.
Vi stood there, rooted, eyes drifting from light to light, from color to color like she might miss something if she blinked. It was different from last year—fuller, warmer, like the apartment was breathing again.
Not far behind her, Caitlyn spoke.
Her voice was barely audible—a soft whisper.
“It… it was lonely without you.” A pause. She fidgets with her fingers, “So I— I decorated. Like we always do for Christmas.” She swallows. “And I avoided coming home, telling myself I didn’t… deserve to be here alone. Not in a place we built together.”
The words hung heavy in the glow.
She shifts, takes a breath, and steadies herself. “But I kept thinking about you coming home and seeing the decorations come to life.” A shaky half-laugh. “That pushed me. I wanted you to come home to this.”
The lights hummed softly around them, as if they were listening too.
Caitlyn’s jaw trembles, the shine in her eyes tipping over. Vi doesn’t think—doesn’t plan. Her arms move on their own, pulling Caitlyn in, pressing her close like that alone might hold her together.
Pain flares low in her torso, sharp and sore, but she swallows it down. Caitlyn matters more. She stays steady. She doesn’t loosen her grip.
Caitlyn’s face disappears into Vi’s shirt, her words breaking apart against the fabric. “Why aren’t you angry at me?”
Vi exhales, slow, steady, fingers sliding through Caitlyn’s hair, thumb softly brushing the back of her neck. “Angry about what?” she murmurs.
All Vi felt, right before her eyelids slid shut, was Caitlyn.
Not the cold biting at her fingers, not the numbing ache seeping in her bones, not even the dark creeping in around the edges of her vision. Just Caitlyn’s voice in her head, the way she would giggle her name and always sounded softer when Caitlyn said it. That was why she’d left the voicemail. Not to explain. Not to defend herself. Just to make sure Caitlyn knew. That if she could pick her very last words, then it had to be about her overflowing love for her. The anger from their fight was already gone, burned out like a match blown away by the wind. It felt small now, pointless, long buried beneath the snow outside. Because Vi loves her. She loves her in the most stubborn ways possible that didn't need permission or perfect timing. Loved her even as her hands went numb, even as her lashes fluttered, even as the world began to fade.
Vi had let the darkness swallow her whole with Caitlyn’s name resting on her lips through slurred and shivering breaths, clinging to it like a final promise, anger and guilt long thrown away.
“What I did to you!” The words tear out of Caitlyn as she pushes herself off of Vi. She stumbles back a step, hands shaking. “I’m the one who pushed you away. I made you leave—made you run and—and—”
Her voice caves in. Her hand hovers near Vi’s side, stopping just short of the bandages, fingers curled tight like she’s afraid she’ll hurt her just by breathing too close.
“It’s my fault,” Caitlyn chokes, tears spilling fast now. “you wouldn’t have gone out. You wouldn’t be like this. I-If I had just— I should’ve— I should’ve—” The words never make it out. She folds in on herself instead.
Vi doesn’t let it go any further.
She leans forward despite the pull in her gut and cups Caitlyn’s face between her palms, warm and steady, lifting her chin until she has no choice but to look up. The same wrecked, terrified look from when Vi first opened her eyes to, stared back at her—and a huge part of Vi refuses to see it on her face again.
“Cait,” Vi says firmly, steadily, gently. No sharp edge, no rush. Just her voice, cutting clean through the growing noise in Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn stills before she even realizes she’s doing it. Her shoulders drop a bit. Her fingers unclench. Using that voice always does this to her. It grounds her, pulls her back, the same way it does behind closed doors when there’s no audience to impress and no title to wear.
In a room full of suits and interrogation rooms, Caitlyn commands without trying.
But here, with Vi, one quiet word is enough to make her stop mid-spiral and listen.
Her thumbs brush away the tears escaping at Caitlyn’s lashes, slow and deliberate—an attempt to wipe away the giant cloud of doubt rooting in her brain.
Caitlyn doesn’t need to blame herself anymore.
She needs to remember how deeply loved she is.
Vi doesn’t rush it. She keeps her hands where they are, warm against Caitlyn’s cheeks, thumbs slow and steady, careful of spooking her.
“Baby,” she murmurs, softer now. “I’m alive.”
Caitlyn’s breath shudders, her mouth slightly open like she wants to say something, like the words are already clawing their way up her throat.
Vi gets there first.
“I lost my cool that night,” she says quietly. “I know that. I walked out. I chased you off and made you hide away.” She closes her eyes and tips her forehead forward until it rests against Caitlyn’s. “But those were my choices.”
Caitlyn shakes her head, new tears slipping free. “But if that hadn’t happened— if I hadn’t—”
Vi pulls back slightly to sweep her thumb under her eye, catching a tear before it can fall. She lifts Caitlyn’s chin just a little. “You didn’t mean any of it, did you? You didn't mean to drive me away?”
Caitlyn swallows hard and shakes her head. “N-no.”
“Then stop beating yourself up for it.” Vi exhales, a small crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “The only person who deserves the blame here is that idiot who decided that mugging me was a good idea.”
She lightens her voice, almost careless, tossing the joke around like she always does. It’s how she handles bad days—laugh it off, maybe swing a punch or two, and move on. She had flipped death off and fought like hell to stand right here, where she's right where she wants to be.
Caitlyn lets out a shaky, amused breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding, and leans into Vi's bigger palms, nuzzling and pressing kisses into it. Her shoulders drop, and the tight edge in her gaze finally eases as the panic loosens its grip. Her breath steadied.
Vi stays there, close, grounding her.
Right where Caitlyn can’t spiral away again.
When Caitlyn’s breathing finally evens out, she eases away from Vi—not rushing away to self-deprecate this time. Her eyes pin on Vi’s, and something soft settles there. A small smile finds her lips, but not fragile, not forced. The kind that says thank you without needing the use of words.
The smile Vi falls for.
Vi answers it with her own without thinking, letting her smile linger—loving and unspoken. I love you she wanted to say, but she knew her facial expression was enough, unsaid but understood.
The moment breaks when Caitlyn’s phone buzzes sharply. She jolts, fumbling to silence it, then pauses when she realizes it isn’t an alarm.
“You okay?” Vi asks, careful and slightly worried at the sudden shift.
Caitlyn nods, then hesitates. The words come out soft, almost shy. “Yes. I—um. I have another surprise for you.”
Vi barely has time to react before an attention grabbing, almost sing-song knock echoes through the apartment, bouncing off the walls. They both turn at the same time.
Vi lifts a brow, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Do I have to close my eyes for this one too?”
Caitlyn lets out a breathy laugh, half in disbelief, and half in amusement. She doesn’t answer. Instead, she clasps her hand on Vi’s wrist, and tugs her along toward the door, urgency and excitement evident on Caitlyn's steps.
Caitlyn stops in front of the door and gives Vi a little nudge, encouraging a step forward, nodding at the handle like it’s obvious what comes next. Vi turns to her, one brow raised, confused but already smiling. Caitlyn just meets her eyes, bright and filled with a newfound spark. With a quiet huff, Vi shakes her head and wraps her fingers around the handle.
The door swings open.
“SURPRISE!”
The sound crashes into her all at once—voices stacking over each other, loud and sudden, hitting her like a jab to the face. Vi jerks back in instinct, heart jumping.
“What the—”
“Congratulations on not dying, you dumbass!” Powder shouts, grinning like she’s been waiting for a while to say it.
Ekko drapes his arm around her, shaking his head with a small smile. “What she means is—she’s really glad you pulled through. We’re glad you’re home.”
“Oh, my baby,” her mom breathes, already pushing through the cluster of bodies like nothing could stop her. She pulls Vi into a tight hug, arms firm yet shaking. “You scared me.”
Vander’s broad shape fills the space just behind her, like a giant shadow, with Benzo hovering close by, a relieved smile on his face.
Her mom pulls back just enough to look at her, fingers snapping up to pinch Vi’s cheek. It stings, but it’s gentle, familiar, it made Vi make a raspy yelp. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.” The scolding held no anger in it. It lands like relief finally letting itself be loud. And her mom emphasises it as she wraps her arm around Vi again.
Everyone came in carrying something. Cheap plastic bouquets, takeout boxes that were probably growing colder by the minute, bottles of wine and whiskey in full hands. It was messy, and unplanned, and very them.
Mylo and Claggor are on her almost immediately—hands on her shoulders, voices overlapping, both talking about how their hearts dropped when they heard about the news, how they didn’t believe it until they would see it. But now relieved that they see her standing here, breathing. Vi lets them fuss for a bit, takes it with a crooked smile, lets herself be pulled into a quick hug before they finally move inside.
“Damn Vi, I thought I was the dumbass of the family.” Mylo quips, but really, Vi could still see the worry on his face.
“Yeah man,” Claggor cuts in “It was unbelievable when we heard. Then Caitlyn started sending texts and pictures…”
“Hey. Not dead yet.” Vi places her hands on each of their shoulders giving it a slight shake as if to shake off the dark cloud nearly clutching on them.
Both of them snapped out of whatever got them stuck in their heads, and nodded with a grateful smile.
Vi steps aside, lifting an arm into the apartment. “C’mon in guys.”
That’s when she spots two figures she hadn't expected to visit.
Tobias Kiramman steps in, green scarf wrapped around his neck and still wearing his doctor's coat, albeit covered by other layers of coats. And right beside him is his wife—Cassandra. Vi blinks, then straightens herself a little.
“Oh. Hey, Tobias,” she says, tipping her head. “Cass.”
“Good evening, Violet.” Cassandra’s voice even, controlled, like this is any other visit and not the aftermath of a near disaster. Her eyes scan Vi from head to toe, assessing, but not like that sharp, examining demeanor years ago when Vi had first courted Caitlyn.
That was six years ago, damn, I'm getting old.
“I’m glad you’re well enough to be home.” Cassandra adds, with a relieved tone laced in her voice.
Vi rubs the back of her neck, suddenly aware of herself. “Yeah. Your husba— Uh, Tobias took real good care of me. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
Tobias laughs, warm and easy, cutting through the tension. “That’s high praise coming from someone who refuses to go down without a fight.”
The corner of Vi’s mouth lifts, and for a second, it was like she hadn't been stabbed at all.
“That’s Violet for you alright.” Vander says, like it settles the matter. His hand lands on Vi’s shoulder in pride before he excuses himself past her to set a familiar bottle on the kitchen island. Speyburn. What they drank when Vi asked for his advice. Her favorite whiskey.
Benzo follows, arms full of clinking bottles. “Aye. She don’t quit ever.” he adds, lining up wine and whiskey like offerings. “Strong as hell. Soft underneath. Rare ta see folks with tha’ quality these days.” His voice carries pride more than praise.
Vi lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Their place is being invaded in the best way possible, and instead of chaos, it’s full of warmth. Compliments stacked on top of liquor bottles and plastic and foil wrapped dishes. Concern dressed up as celebration.
She looks around, brow creasing. “So… what’s all this for, really?”
Powder answers without missing a beat, already digging plates out of the cupboards like she owns the place. “Well, if ya mean the surprise,” she says, arranging them onto the table, “we figured Christmas could wait. Or—y’know—come late. So, now we’re celebrating Christmas with you—who’s alive again. Even if it took you, like, three whole weeks to stop scarin’ everyone.”
The room hums with agreement. No one says we almost lost you. They don’t have to.
“It felt wrong,” Cassandra says, her voice measured but carrying weight. “Hollow. Almost… blasphemous. To celebrate while knowing you're on a death bed.”
Vi huffs quietly. “Those were… strong words.”
Her mom steps in before it can turn into anything else, fingers already brushing Vi’s arm, like she needs to feel her there. She presses a kiss to Vi’s cheek. “You were fighting for your life, Violet. We weren’t about to hang lights and smile like nothing horrible happened to you.”
Vi’s mouth tightens, something tender settling in her chest. She pulls her mother into a hug, murmuring, “I’m okay, Mama.”
Her mom holds her back a second longer than necessary. “I know,” she whispers back. “My strong baby.”
When Vi pulls away, her eyes scan the room before stopping on Caitlyn. The question slips out “Did you do all this?”
Caitlyn blinks, then shakes her head quickly, a little flustered. “No—no, I didn’t plan this.” She gestures around the apartment, where people are still moving chairs and setting things down. “They asked if I’d be on board celebrating Christmas late. With you. Instead of not at all.” She shrugs like it’s obvious. Like it was the only correct answer in her book.
And somehow, that makes Vi’s chest ache even more.
“Technically,” Powder voices from the table, leaning her weight into it, one finger drumming the surface, “this is also a belated birthday thing for you. Since you just HAD to go out and pick a fight somewhere.”
Vi scoffs. “The fucker started it.”
The whole room erupted all at once.
“Language!”
The chorus hits her like a wave. Vi freezes for half a second—then breaks, laughter tearing out of her chest before she can stop it. She tips her head back, shaking, taking in the moment. The scolding, the noise, the people who showed up despite it all.
It’s ridiculous. It’s loud. It’s full. It's hers.
And for the first time since everything went wrong, it feels right.
“Happy 24th born-day to me.” Vi lilts her voice to retort to the room.
The party was in full swing. The apartment smelled like every corner of a holiday market—honey-glazed ham mingling along with the smoky scent of buffalo wings. The sweet perfume of Yule log clashing pleasantly with the oily scent of roasted pig and caramelized sweet potatoes. Her favorite stew was placed last on the table, as if they knew what Vi would go for.
Vi’s jaw practically hit the floor. She snapped it shut just in time before drool could betray her, stomach growling like a starved animal.
This beats hospital food anyday.
Once the feast was set, everyone shuffled into place. Hands waved Vi toward the head of the table. Because this one was for her—celebrating another day to live, a birthday, and Christmas all at once. Caitlyn slid in on her right, Cassandra and Tobias at Caitlyn’s side. Powder landed on her left, Mama, Vander, Ekko, Claggor, Mylo, and Benzo nestling beside her as well.
Grace was said, soft and sincere, thankful that Vi had fought to live another day, that she was here, breathing, laughing, alive. And then the sound of metal utensils and laughter collided in harmony. The chatter wasn’t forced; it rippled naturally, light and unburdened, as if the weeks of worry had evaporated entirely.
A knock at the door made Vi spring up. “I got it!”
Jayce appeared, late as always, balancing a strawberry themed cake with “Happy Birthday!” scrawled in purple icing. “Sorry, I’m late! You can see why,” he said, holding it up like Vi didn't see it at first glance. “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Vi. And congrats for… uh, you know, not dying.”
Vi chuckled, the sound spilling like sunlight across the room. She took the cake from him, then draped her free hand over his back in a welcoming squeeze. “Thanks, Pretty Boy,” she said, smiling like the world was hers again. “Where's Mel?”
“She's celebrating Christmas in Noxus with her family. But she did send me her regards to you though.” Jayce added.
Everyone greeted him on the way in and the party continued on.
Vi hadn’t expected the “family-only” event to be so over-the-top. The apartment buzzed with laughter, music, and chaos—karaoke challenges that made everyone cringe and cheer, corny speeches full of gushy appreciation, and gift exchanges that somehow got messy and competitive at the same time. Vi tried to keep up, her grin stretched a little too wide, but she loved every chaotic second.
Then, in the middle of playing one of the games, a sharp, paralyzing pain shot through her side like a lightning bolt. She yelped and stumbled back onto the couch, clutching herself. The room froze for a beat—eyes on her, voices hovering with worry—but she waved them off. “I’ll sit this one out… next round, I’m in,” she said, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she hissed through the sting.
Jayce, ever the performative hero he was, shot her a mock salute. He took her place—“in honor of Vi” he announced—hopping in to take her place, and the game rolled on. Vi slouched back, letting the warmth of the room seep in around her, her heart swelling with something she couldn't find the right words to admit, but still grateful, included, and still part of the chaos even while sidelined.
Caitlyn was already by her side, hovering with that sharp, “I-need-to-make-sure-you’re-okay” look she always had when Vi pushed herself too far.
“Let me take a look, darling,” Caitlyn murmured, voice soft but threaded with worry.
Vi straightened slowly, wincing, and lifted her shirt just enough to show the thick bandage wrapped around her torso. There was a sizable red blotch right on the wrapped wound, the sight made Caitlyn’s brows knit together. “Your wound reopened. No more playing like you're in the Olympics.” Her tone was scolding, but there was no mistaking the edge of worry behind it.
“But that’s my nature, Cupcake,” Vi boasted, flinching as she tried to lift her arm. “I always have my eyes on the prize.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, lips twitching.
“And what prize are you aiming for, pray tell?” Caitlyn asked, already knowing the answer. The teasing lilt in her voice made it impossible for Vi to look away.
Cassandra had brought five hundred dollar game prizes in the name of “generosity,” but Vi suspected it was all meticulously planned to make the games even more interesting.
“Right in front of me,” Vi said, the corners of her lips tilting into that infuriatingly smug grin.
Caitlyn laughed, low and melodic, shaking her head. “I’m not part of the prize pool, Vi.”
“I mean… I’m trying to win you over. Heart and all that.” Vi is aware it sounded corny. Her voice carried all the cheesiness she knew it did. But maybe, she just didn’t care.
Her goal is Caitlyn after all.
Caitlyn’s expression softened, edges smoothing into something that made Vi’s chest feel like it could explode. Her smile was soft and full of years of devotion.
“You won me over years ago, Violet. Even before we started dating.”
The words hit Vi like lightning striking straight through her chest, leaving her breathless and dazed, heart suddenly aware of just how much it had already been claimed.
☃︎♡☃︎
The night had settled into a comfortable lull, the chaos from earlier fading into quiet laughter and sighs. Cassandra and Felicia had crushed most of the card and board games like it was nothing, Vander had come close behind with Ekko hot on his heels. Powder—due to her unfortunate “I’m an afternoon person” nature—had tapped out, sprawled out on the carpet like she didn’t have a care in the world—though not before mercilessly annihilating Mylo and Claggor in a cutthroat game of Uno No Mercy.
When Cassandra handed out the prize money, she insisted everyone’s “efforts made them winners,” groans and dramatic protests echoed around the room, while Vi chuckled quietly in the corner, playing a match of chess with Caitlyn as she too wore an amused smirk as she shook her head, clearly reveling in the entertaining scene as well.
When Vi glanced back at the checkered board but as she doubled back, she’d already lost.
“Checkmate.” Caitlyn’s voice was calm, almost teasing, as she slid her Rook into place, trapping Vi’s King.
“Awe crap. Guess I really do suck at chess,” Vi groaned, throwing her hands up in mock surrender, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Not true,” Caitlyn replied, leaning back with effortless poise. “you nearly had me actually. If you had only preserved your last Knight piece, the game might’ve tipped in your favor and you would have gained the winning advantage.”
Vi laughed, shrugging. “Ah, but you’re the strategist between us. I’m the one who punches first and asks questions later.”
Caitlyn chuckled, soft and knowing. “Yes, well… it’s certainly worked out for you so far.” Her eyes flicked to the floor, a small frown forming, subtle but heavy with thought.
Before Vi could ask what was wrong, Cassandra stood up from sitting on the carpet floor.
“Well, this occasion has been… fun and I had a wonderful time, but I think it’s time we call it a night,” Cassandra said, motioning toward the tipsy bunch sprawled across the living room. The hint was clear—time to go home.
Vi’s gaze landed on the clock. 1:37 AM.
She hummed in surprise. To her, the party lasted for thirty minutes at most.
“Rightly so, Vi does need her rest too,” Tobias added as he stretched his back, the calm authority of a General Surgeon shining through.
“All right, everyone, up! Let’s give the birthday girl some much-needed rest, Doc’s orders.” Vander’s voice rumbled just enough to stir the dozing crowd—and even Powder’s deep slumber.
“Huh? Whuh—wus happ’nin’?” Powder slowly sat upright, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.
“Time to go home, Pow,” Ekko repeated, stretching beside her with a lazy grin.
“Awe man, oh well,” Powder groaned, yawning again. “Someone’s gonna hav’ta carry me ‘cause there’s no way I’m leaving this ridiculously soft carpet.” She curled into herself more, her limbs locking in place, Vi knew that pose too well, the one where you'd have to pry her open like a hard nut for her to cooperate.
Vi leaned in, voice teasing, the words carrying a weight Powder couldn’t ignore. “If you stay here, you’ll never know what might happen if Caitlyn and I find some privacy.”
Powder bolted upright, practically bouncing to her feet, already scooping up her things. It was almost comical how fast she moved. “Let’s go, everyone! I personally prefer a QUIET room to sleep in where NOTHING and NO ONE will DISTURB me.” She furrowed her brows towards Vi, as she earned back a smirk from Vi and some soft chuckles from the others.
Works everytime.
“Well, we’re headin’ out now. Try not to die again, I guess,” Mylo said, stretching and yawning as he stood, Claggor drowsily shuffling behind him.
Vi chuckled softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction anyway.” Her words earned him a knowing smirk. She tilted her head toward the others. “Take care of them, alright?”
Mylo jerked a thumb up with a quick nod, sealing the promise, I won't let you down, sis!
Vi rose on her feet to escort them to the door, then paused, glancing back. “Aren’t you going home too, Mama?”
“I’ll help you clean up, sweetheart,” Mama replied without hesitation. And as Vi opened her mouth to protest, Vander spoke that he volunteered to help as well, as though her mother convinced him to before Vi could argue.
“I would to stay an’ help if I could, but Huck’s got the shop runnin’ in me place, and leavin’ him there alone was already a risk,” Benzo chuckled, patting Vi’s shoulder as he stepped toward the door. “Ah Merry Christmas, and Happy Birthday Vi, ya soft bruiser.”
Vi’s lips quirked in a thankful smile and rests her hand on his before he rounded the corner and left, the warmth of the gesture lingering like a quiet hug.
Jayce, Cassandra, and Tobias exchanged a few quiet words with Caitlyn, Mama, and Vander before heading toward the door. The chatter faded, leaving the apartment feeling warmer, cozier, and a little quieter.
“Hey… uh, thanks for coming,” Vi murmured as she rubbed her nape, a sudden shyness tugging at her chest. Her voice barely carried, but the weight behind it was heavy.
“Oh, Vi, if ever, we’re the ones who should be thankful,” Tobias said, his calm tone grounding, like he’d known she needed to hear it.
Cassandra rested her hand lightly on her husband’s arm, eyes soft. “Our Christmas wish was that you would come home… safe, sound, and alive. And our wishes,” she added, the warmth in her voice wrapping around Vi like a blanket, “would usually come true.”
The Kirammans are well known to be powerful and influential people. What they say, would usually go. So Cassandra implying that she would've faced death itself for Vi to come home safe and unscathed, made her smile.
“Come for tea when you're fully rested?” She asks, voice hopeful and sincere.
“You know I will, Aunt Cass.” She replied, earning another soft embrace from her before Jayce stepped in.
“Looks like everyone already said what I was gonna say,” Jayce muttered, bumping his knuckles lightly into Vi’s arm, just enough to remind her she was solid, that she's still here. “So… yeah. Good to have you back, Vi.”
She snorted, rolling her shoulder like the touch barely registered. “Yeah, well. Not getting rid of me that easy.”
Jayce squinted at her, lips twitching. “You do have the toughest bod.”
“And you,” Vi shot back without missing a beat, “have the thickest skull.”
They locked eyes, neither backing down. The silence stretched but no awkwardness hung in the air between them. Then both of them snorted at the same time as laughter spilled out like they were kids again, loud, stupid, relieved.
“Alright, Jayce, that’s enough,” Caitlyn cut in, sliding neatly between them. One hand came to rest at Vi’s bicep, firm and unmistakably possessive. “You’ve done enough admiring my girlfriend’s… anatomy. What she needs now is rest, now out with you.”
Jayce lifted both hands in surrender, grinning. “Message received. I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”
Caitlyn walked him toward the door, only for him to ruffle her hair on the way out, fingers messing up her carefully kept blue strands. She shoved him back, hard enough to throw him off balance, a sharp glare following.
Cassandra cleared her voice, the noise cutting through the banter from behind them, Caitlyn and Jayce shoves each other lightly, scolding and blaming the other for who started it first.
Caitlyn smoothed her hair back into place, lips twitching into a small, adorable pout.
The older Kirammans both tipped their heads at Vi one last time before heading down the hall, Jayce in tow, footsteps fading until the corner swallowed them whole.
The apartment didn’t stay quiet for long. Vander and mama moved through the room, scooping up glass and plastic cups alike, along with empty wine and whiskey bottles—stacking up plates and picking trash to be thrown in the bin. Vi stood shoulder to shoulder with Caitlyn at the sink, freezing cold water running as they passed plates back and forth. Every now and then, their hips bumped playfully. Both never missing the chance to nudge each other again.
When the last plate was set to dry, Vi glanced at the clock. 2:09 AM.
She lifted her arms to stretch—and hissed as a sharp pain flared through her wound, as if it was screaming not to be moved. Her hand flew to her side on instinct. But Caitlyn was already there, eyes narrowing into focus, fingers hovering along Vi’s like she wanted to scold the injury itself.
“We’re changing that bandage later,” she muttered, not knowing she thought out loud.
“I think that’s everything,” her mom said, wiping her hands on the kitchen’s hand towel.
Vi turned to them, rolling her shoulder through the lingering sting. “You didn’t have to do all this, Ma,” she said, nodding toward the arranged trash. “Me and Cait could’ve handled it.”
Momma shot her a look that said don’t start, placing her hands on her hips. “You just got out of the hospital, you are in no shape or condition to work or clean.”
Vi inhales as she opens her mouth to retort,
“Even if it’s light work.” Vander added, calm but final.
Vi closes her jaw with a click, lips pressing into a line as Caitlyn made a quiet snicker beside her.
After collecting themselves and doing final checks not leaving out any speck or dust, Vi gets her feet moving and walks them to the door and out into the hall. The words thank you are filling up on her tongue when her mom steps in first and pulls her close.
The hug is tight, kind of like Vander's bear hugs, but more tender. More loving. Like she’s afraid Vi might slip right through her arms if she lets go. Vi feels her mom’s breath stutter against her ear.
“I’m just… I’m so glad you pulled through,” her mom murmurs, voice wobbling. “When I heard what happened, it didn't feel real to me.” She presses her cheek harder into Vi’s shoulder. “Vander kept saying you were tough. That Caitlyn and her father would take care of you. That you will pull through.” A small, broken gasp slips out. “I told myself to believe it. I really did.”
Her grip tightens again, fingers digging in like anchors. “But the days kept passing,” she whispers, barely louder than a breath, “and it felt difficult to be sure.”
Vi’s mouth pulls into a thin line before she bites down on her lower lip. She wraps her arms around her and holds on, matching the grip like she’s afraid letting go might undo the moment.
“I’m here, Ma,” she murmurs, rough but steady. “Didn’t go anywhere.” Mama lets out a shaky breath, like she’s been holding it for weeks, and squeezes her again—this time softer, like she finally believes it.
A second set of arms joins in, big and solid. Vander’s hand settles between Vi’s shoulders, heavy and steady, the way a wall feels when you lean back after a long day.
There’s a brief pause, just a heartbeat of hesitation, before Caitlyn steps closer. She slips in carefully, like she’s stepping onto a land mine, one hand hovers before finally resting at Vi’s side. When no one pulls away, she exhales and leans in, her hold gentle and now sure.
The hug grows warmer, fuller layers of people pressed together like they’re building something around Vi instead of closing in on her.
Death can fuck itself off, this is exactly why I'ma keep on living.
☃︎♡☃︎
For the first time in what feels like forever, the apartment finally goes quiet. No laughter bouncing through the walls, no clatter of plates or bottles or voices calling Vi’s name—just the low hum of the lights and the soft sounds of home settling back into itself.
Vi slides the last plate into the cabinet and nudges it closed with her fist. She’s wiping her hands on a towel when Caitlyn’s voice slips into the silence.
“Vi?”
“Yeah?” Vi doesn’t turn, already smiling like she knows what’s coming.
“I… I have another surprise for you.”
That makes Vi pause. She looks over her shoulder, her brow lifting, half amused and half wary. “You’re kidding.”
Caitlyn slowly shakes her head, lips twitching mischievously like she’s barely holding together a big grin. Vi lets out a breathy laugh, something warm spreading through her chest.
“You’re spoiling me, Cupcake.”
Caitlyn steps closer, close enough that Vi can feel her presence without looking back. Her voice softens, steady and sure. “As I should. You deserve the world and more after all.” The quiet wraps around them again, sweet and expectant.
Vi turns fully to her, admiration and curiosity growing. Caitlyn stands there, hands tucked behind her back, posture trying to give nothing away.
Caitlyn brings her hands forward. Revealing small scissors, saline solution, clean bandages, tape and cotton. The quiet, practical promise of care. “But first, we must change that dressing.”
Caitlyn was like a living, breathing checklist. She wouldn't let any task go unfinished. Diligent as her nature was.
Caitlyn guides her toward the living room holding her gently by the wrist, the space all quiet now—no laughter, no cluttered voices, just the hush that settles after something good has passed.
Vi eases down onto the couch near the fireplace, the light dies down and the ashes long cold. Caitlyn relights it and with a low glow, it paints the room in a soft orange-amber gleam. Her attention shifts back on Vi, and as bluntly as ever she asks,
“Remove your shirt.”
Vi snorts. “Can I get a magical please while I'm at it?”
Caitlyn flicks Vi's temple, like she’s indulging Vi despite herself. So, she rephrases herself “Would you please, remove your shirt?”
“I love it when you ask nicely.” Vi shifts, slow and careful, every movement negotiated with her ribs. Caitlyn’s focus doesn’t waver. Steady, all on her. Vi lifts the hem of her shirt, then freezes halfway, breath catching as pain sparks like lightning.
The fabric gets stuck over her head. “Uh,” she laughs, muffled. “Little help?”
Caitlyn mutters something under her breath—too quiet to catch—and then her fingers brush Vi's triceps, gentle at the edges of the cloth. She works the shirt free with attentive care. When it finally comes off, Vi’s left in her black sports bra, and the bandages that were stained dirty red. Throbbing like they’ve been in search of attention.
“Fuck,” Vi exhales, slowly leaning back on one arm. “This sucks.”
Caitlyn’s hands hover for a heartbeat, gauging the wound as she waited for Vi to settle.
“Try to relax.” she says, voice soft but steady, the kind of reassurance that doesn’t ask permission. “Allow me to take care of you.”
Between the warmth of the fire and the way Caitlyn looks at her, Vi wouldn't mind if she'd melt right here like a snowman filled with love worth dying for. Six years of being together, and still her heart soars for this woman.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
Caitlyn takes her time with it, fingers moving slowly and carefully as she finally loosens the bandage around Vi’s torso. Each loop comes away like she’s unwrapping a fragile gift, her touch light enough that Vi barely feels its pull.
The last layer peels free, and the cold, winter air rushes in. Vi shivers before she can stop herself. Both wounds sit there angry and slightly raw. One stretches longer than the other, stitches thick and sewn tight into her skin. A trickle of blood manages to slip out anyway, slow and taunting, like a leak on a roof. When Vi breathes, more crawls out along with the rise and fall of her chest.
Caitlyn reacts instantly. Soft cotton meets skin, gently dabbing, soaking up the red before it can make a mess. Her jaw tightens, focus narrowing to the wound in front of her. Vi keeps still, muscles locked. She swallows every quip in her throat, every instinct to joke it off. Now and then a sharp brush of fingers makes her hiss through her teeth, breath catching.
Caitlyn murmurs gentle apologies each time, quieter than the last, clearly guilty of herself for Vi's pain and injury.
Vi exhales and forces her shoulders to relax, letting Caitlyn work. She trusts Caitlyn's hands—even when she can feel them tremble just a little.
Caitlyn presses a clean cloth into Vi’s hands and tells her to hold it in place to keep the bleeding from flowing. Vi does, feeling the warmth soak through almost immediately. Caitlyn turns away just long enough to tear open fresh gauze, her movements quick and rushed—like she’s done this a thousand times before, despite her shaking fingers. She murmurs to take away the cloth and when Vi does, Caitlyn replaces it right away, covering the new gauze around her wounds in thoughtful care. She then tapes it down, checks it, then goes over to retrieve a clean bandage. She wraps it around Vi's torso delicately like she's trying not to yank too hard, trying to minimize the pull.
It was tight enough to hold the gauze in place, but loose enough for Vi to manage to draw a full breath without pain biting back at her.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, Vi notices the sound of Caitlyn’s breathing. Unsteady. Controlling. Strained. Like she’s trying to keep it together.
Vi doesn’t say anything. She just stays still, lets Caitlyn finish, lets her take care of Vi.
But eventually, something's gotta give.
So once Caitlyn finished applying the new dressing, it was Vi's turn to care for her.
“Baby?” Vi asks softly, her voice still rough from the prolonged silence. She reaches out and rests her hand on Caitlyn’s forearm, her thumb tracing slow, grounding circles, trying to anchor her there.
Caitlyn lets out a shaky breath that turns into a weak, almost embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry. I— I have been far too emotional lately.”
Vi hums, the sound slipping into a quiet scoff. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” She shifts closer, closing the gap until their knees brush and their faces are only inches apart. “I get emotional too. Honestly, just watching you take care of me—”
“It is not that,” Caitlyn cuts in quickly, her fingers twisting together again, betraying the calm she’s trying to hold onto. “It’s just… I—” Her voice falters, and then a broken sound slips through,
“I almost lost you.”
Her eyes shine with the light of the fire, glassy and poorly restrained. She looks away for a second, jaw tightening as she bites down on her lip like she can physically stop her feelings from spilling.
“When I listened to your voicemail, my first thought was how you were trying to fix things. To fix us.” A tear escapes, then another, carving wet trails down her cheeks. “But my mind was cruel. Every horrible thought struck at me…”
She swallows hard, her shoulders shaking with breaths she can barely control. “It made me run to you. It made me pray to be wrong. To be in the wrong again. And—”
Her gaze drops flicking to Vi's new dressing, rapidly blinking off tears, like she’s sucked into that horrible moment again. “And when I saw you—lying in the snow, in a pool of your own blood—” Her voice cracks this time with a soft whine.
“All I could think was how desperately I needed you to know that I still love you. That no amount of argument will ever make me stop.”
The room falls silent enough to hear the fire pop softly. Caitlyn’s words linger in the air between them, delicate as glass, like one wrong move might shatter this moment.
Vi has seen her cry before. Little breaks. Controlled ones. The kind that came from impossible expectations, long days that followed her home, or those stupidly sentimental movies with mother-daughter scenes that always got her sniffling while pretending she was fine.
This is different.
This isn't the kind of crack that could be managed—it was like a collapse. Caitlyn’s shoulders shake, breath hitching like she’s been holding it for far too long, and Vi realizes, that she’s never been here for this part before. She’s only heard about it in pieces—secondhand stories from her parents, or from Jayce and Mel. How Caitlyn would cry herself dry in private, when doors were closed and she thought no one needed to see it.
Now Caitlyn is crying like Vi matters enough to break her open. Like loving her this much costed something. The thought hits Vi harder than any pain in her side ever could, settling heavy yet warm in her chest at the same time.
Vi doesn’t speak right away. She just stays there close, breathing her in, letting the quiet wrap around them. Because this moment doesn’t need fixing,
It just needs to be held.
Vi wraps herself around Caitlyn, careful of her side but firm everywhere else. The kind of hug that says I’ve got you without needing words. Caitlyn’s breath breaks against her shoulder, the sobs coming faster now, heavier, like everything she’s been holding back finally found a crack to shatter through.
Her hand moves in slow, steady circles against the small of Caitlyn’s back, right where she knows the tension gathered. Each gentle rub is patient, deliberate, grounding. Like counting breaths without counting. Caitlyn clutches onto her bare shoulder, mindful of her short nails, crying into her neck like she might disappear if she lets go.
Vi presses her cheek into Caitlyn’s hair, eyes closed. She doesn’t rush her. Doesn’t shush her. Just holds her, warm and unwavering like the fire in the fireplace.
I’m here. I didn’t leave. I’m still yours.
None of it makes it past her lips, but she pours it into the way she tightens her arms just a little more, into the steady rhythm of her touch, into the way she doesn’t pull away even when her torso hurts.
But Vi hopes this is enough. She hopes Caitlyn feels it.
And slowly, ever so slightly, Caitlyn’s shaking eases, her breaths now hitching less like a storm and more like a tide softening its crashes.
The quiet stretches after her tears fade, thick and tender, like the room itself is holding its breath. Vi doesn’t rush it. She keeps herself wrapped around Caitlyn, thumb still tracing slow, grounding circles, until the shaking finally settles.
“I forgive you, Cait,” Vi says at last, voice low, “And I’m sorry too.”
Caitlyn lifts her head just enough to shake it, lashes still wet. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she says, reason slipping into her tone out of habit, even now, even after everything.
Vi softly exhales through her nose, “Yeah. Maybe.” Her hand comes up, fingers brushing through Caitlyn’s hair before she leans and presses a long kiss on her forehead, its warmth lingering. “But I am. For leaving you alone with all this baggage. For pushing you away with words I don’t even remember saying.”
Caitlyn’s breath hitches again, voice small but honest. “It… it did hurt. The things you said.” She pauses, fingers curling into a fist to steady herself. “But I said things too. Things that hurt you.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “And I don’t want to remember them. I don't want them to live between us anymore.”
Vi pulls back just a little to rest her forehead against Caitlyn’s,
“Then we let them go,” she murmurs. “Together.”
Caitlyn’s lips form a wobbly smile and closes her eyes, leaning deeper into her, exactly where she belongs.
They stay tangled together until the fire burns lower and the room settles into something soft and quiet. Caitlyn clears her throat, like she has to push the words out.
“My… last surprise for you,” she says, voice a little scraped raw. “It’s under our Christmas tree.”
Vi pulls back just enough to look at her, brow lifting. “Huh. I almost forgot about that.”
Caitlyn lets out a small, nervous laugh and stands, brushing her hands down her pants like she’s wiping off the negativity that had clung to her. She crosses the room and crouches by the tree, the lights blinking slow and warm, then comes back with a package tucked to her chest.
Red paper. Cupcakes printed all over it. Of course.
The folds aren’t perfect, tape peeking out, corners a little crooked—but it’s better than last year. With more effort. Like she learned something.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Caitlyn says, offering it with both hands, careful and reverent, like she’s afraid it might break.
Vi watches her for a beat before taking it. She peels the paper back slowly, then pauses.
She lifts the supposed “gift” up. And blinks.
Her face does this little shift. Confused, and stunned all at once. Before she can get a word out, Caitlyn rushes in, her nerves spilling over. “It’s— it’s supposed to be a sweater. I learned how to crochet… before you woke up.” Her fingers twist together, eyes darting everywhere but Vi. “It’s not very good. It's clearly unfinished. I kept messing up because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and—” She trails off, muttering something self-critical under her breath. Vi doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease.
She just stares at the uneven patterns, the crooked edges, the hours sewn into every loop and then back at Caitlyn.
Oh.
She loves it.
Vi’s grin spreads before she even thinks about it. She lifts the sweater and slips it on slowly, careful of her stitches. The fabric tugs in odd places, one side sitting higher than the other. The left sleeve gives up halfway, its loose strands sticking out brushing her wrist like wires. It hangs crooked on her frame, made with more effort than polish.
She looks ridiculous.
Yet she doesn’t care.
Vi tugs the sleeve anyway, rolling her shoulder like she can shrug it into behaving. The yarn scratches faintly against her skin, warm where it counts, awkward everywhere else. She glances down at herself, then back at Caitlyn, eyes bright, chest swelling in a way that has nothing to do with pride.
Caitlyn made this.
With the same careful yet trembling hands. With worry. With love, knotted into every uneven loop.
Vi smooths a palm over the front like it might disappear if she doesn’t hold it in place. “It’s perfect,” she says, quiet but sure.
Not because it fits.
Not because it isn't neat.
Because it’s hers.
And anything Caitlyn makes—no matter how lopsided, unfinished, or how painfully horrendous it seemed to outsiders—already belongs in Vi’s heart like shiny trophies on a shelf.
The sweater sits on her like it’s unfamiliar with her frame. There was a crooked red outline of what seemed to be a Christmas tree over her chest. The yarn droops and pulls in places it shouldn’t, as Vi shifts in it, willing the weight to settle. She looks pleased, almost smug, like she’s found armor she never knew she needed.
Caitlyn watches her soak it in. Her fingers twist together before she can stop them. “I’m… glad you like it?” she says, the words lifting at the end, unsure, hopeful, bracing all at once.
“Oh, baby,” she murmurs, voice rough in that way it gets when she means every word. She stands up closing into her space, hands finding Caitlyn’s waist like muscle memory. “I love it.”
Caitlyn barely has time to breathe before Vi’s touch softens. Vi reaches up, tucking a loose strand of cobalt hair behind Caitlyn’s ear. Her thumb lingers at Caitlyn’s jaw, and Caitlyn tilts her head into her palm, sighing and nuzzling into it again. Vi memorizes her—blue red-rimmed eyes still swollen from crying, lashes clumped, lips pink and inviting, trembling just slightly.
Vi cups her face, with both palms this time, to ground them both. Then she leans in and kisses her—gentle, unhurried, full of everything they forgot to say. Could not say. And instead shown through these warm and tender touches.
Vi kisses her like she’s finally found nourishment after running on empty. There’s a quiet urgency in it, and Caitlyn answers without thinking, meeting her halfway, letting the soft push and pull say what words can’t. It’s desperate, but not reckless. Needed.
Vi’s hand slides to Caitlyn’s back then to her thigh, and guides her back onto the couch. In one smooth motion, Vi settles her onto her lap, careful even in the heat of it, like some part of her never forgets the injury beneath the sweater. Caitlyn feels it—that restraint layered under want—it makes her chest ache.
Caitlyn breaks the kiss just long enough to glance down, fingers hovering near Vi’s side, checking without touching, counting breaths, making sure. Vi’s eyes stay on her the whole time, patient, trusting.
“Okay,” Caitlyn murmurs, more to herself than anything, like she was giving herself permission after all the self-punishment she tortured herself with.
Then she dives back in, kissing her again—slower, deeper, with more intent this time. More hunger, more promise. Showing Vi her unending devotion.
Vi hums against her mouth, the sound vibrating straight through Caitlyn’s chest. Her teeth catch Caitlyn’s lower lip— pulling it a tease—before her lips slides to her jawline, nipping the skin there, savoring it after a long slumber. Caitlyn exhales, soft and shaky, and before Vi can trail any lower, she stops with a quiet breath of words. Her voice rough around the edges, like she’s barely holding still. “I never really finished what I was trying to say.”
Caitlyn’s voice is just as unsteady, like she’s melting onto Vi's hands. “And what's that?”
Vi swallows, then lets the truth spill messily, “Watching you take care of me—the way you did—made me love you more.” A beat. A breath. “Made me want to make love to you. All of you.” She pauses to gently suck on the skin of Caitlyn's neck before adding, “Made me feel horny.” She doesn’t sugarcoat it, doesn’t joke it away. Just lets it sit between them, like breaking down the layered walls of restraint.
Caitlyn laughs breathlessly. Her hands slide up to cup the back of Vi’s head, fingers threading into her hair as she leans in, pressing closer, deeper into Vi's lips.
“Then,” she murmurs, voice low and steady despite the shivering heat creeping into it, “make love to me.”
Whatever restraint Vi had left slips away as she pulls Caitlyn back onto her lips, the world narrowing to the warmth they made and will make.
Caitlyn hooks her fingers around Vi’s elbows and tugs her, close enough that their breaths tangle. She leans in, the word barely there, whispered straight into Vi’s mouth like a secret. “Bedroom.”
That’s all it takes. Vi’s hands slide instinctively to Caitlyn’s waist and thighs, lifting her. Caitlyn’s legs locks around her, careful with her injured side. Vi pads down the hall, heart thudding, the house falling away with every step.
gods, I love this woman so much, the thought hits her. Simple yet overwhelming. Right before she nudges the bedroom door open with her shoulder and shuts it behind them, sealing themselves into the warmth they're making like a candle rekindled.