Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Shit.” Vi screwed up.

The most celebrated time of the year was creeping closer, and Caitlyn had been on edge for weeks prior. Responsibilities that were clearly too much and appearances that overloaded her schedules are starting to push Caitlyn over. Vi tried to steady her whenever things began to topple over. Vi did the familiar motions, softening her voice, reaching out, being the reasonable one—but it always fell apart the moment Caitlyn snapped back, the words sharper than expected.

Vi was stressed too–done in, really. The Last Drop had her working double shifts thanks to holiday understaffing, and in between all that, there was the planned visit with the Kiramman family scheduled for later within the week. And as if that weren’t enough, their calendar was already filling up with work galas all filled with polite smiles, stiff clothes, and long nights spent pretending none of it was exhausting. 

So by the time they got home from one of the galas, Vi was already a step behind Caitlyn, hovering close, bracing for the next blowup, ready to fan it over before it sparked. Caitlyn slammed the door closed, anger driving the motion, and if Vi hadn’t caught it in time, the impact would’ve left a crack on the wall behind it.

Vi tried to be steady. She spoke softly, honestly, gently reasoning out words meant to ground. To remind Caitlyn that the storm would pass like it always will.

But maybe she chose the wrong words. Or maybe it wasn't the right time to speak in the middle of an outburst. Caitlyn snapped. She paced the living room in brisk, tight circles, fury spilling out of her in a stream of curses so fast Vi couldn’t even keep track of them, let alone understand every meaning.

But Vi wasn’t having it. She dragged out a tired sigh and reasoned back in a voice trying and failing to be steady, trying to break through the wall Caitlyn had thrown up. To disarm the ticking time bomb that was Caitlyn Kiramman. She told her they could figure it out if she’d just stop, sit down, breathe for one damn second.

But as stubborn as this woman was, Caitlyn shot right back. Saying there was no time to be calm.

Like always, it was never that easy.

They argued for Janna knows how long, words hardening into accusations neither of them meant. Their voices climbed, snapping at each other like territorial dogs. It turned into the an endless loop of what should’ve happened and what never did. And soon enough, Vi was tired. 

It wasn't until Vi was on her last string of patience that the growing, pounding headache, along with the fast beating of her heart and the flushing of her cheeks, became too unbearable to keep in check. Something raw and ugly tore out of her before she realized. Her voice burst as she exclaimed something that even her blood rushing ears overlooked, leaving a bitter sinking feeling in its wake, rendering the room around them silent. 

For a tiny split second, her vision went dark. Her outburst was so loud that her voice vibrated around the air and apartment walls, almost as if her body wasn't hers for a moment.

She saw Caitlyn flinch back with a soft gasp, eyes wide and mouth agape as her brows that were once knitted in anger, now furrowed in hurt—all while Vi was lost in her daze as she blinked.

They stood there, staring down at each other in shock. The only noise they could hear was Vi's heavy breathing and the cold, howling wind outside. The air went still, unlike the built-up tension when they were squabbling just seconds ago. Caitlyn’s breath stuttered when she exhaled as she seemed to hold for a while, and that's when Vi knew that she had screwed up. 

“Cait-” 

The first step she took was enough for Caitlyn to turn her heels and retreat to their room. The sharp, quick steps of her heels snapped Vi out of her rageful stupor, and it urged her to follow Caitlyn.

Caitlyn was quicker though. Before Vi could even reach to grab her arm, Caitlyn slammed the door to their room. Vi flinched a step back to avoid getting her face hit by their door.

“Cait…” Vi breathed.

“Not now, Vi. I just— I need some time to think.” She snaps back from the other side as her voice cracks.

It doesn’t take much for Vi’s hand to fall away from the doorknob. She did a small nod instead. Defeat settling heavy in her chest. She should've been more patient, but if anyone had known her for a long time, they'd know patience wasn't really her strong suit. 

What a dumb excuse, she thought to herself irritably.

She turns from the door, steps heavy, like each one weighs more than the last. By the time she reaches the living room, the fight has drained out of her completely. She drops onto the couch and sinks into it, shoulders caving in as she drags in a deep breath and lets it spill out in a long sigh.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to be the reason Caitlyn’s voice went tight, or why the room felt brittle and wrong. She was meant to steady her, to be the hand at her back, the quiet nudge when her thoughts ran too far ahead of her. Not another weight. Not another problem.

She should’ve waited.

God, another should've.

Should’ve let Caitlyn cool off, let the storm pass before opening her mouth. Should’ve kept quiet.

Vi scrubs a hand through her hair and fists on it, tugging hard like she might yank the regret out with it. Their words replay in her head—the ones that slipped out too fast, the ones that stung, the ones she shouldn't have said. Her eyes burn, and she presses her lips together as she tips her head back against the couch.

They were supposed to be celebrating. Laughing. Letting the month wrap around them the way it always did—like a warm blanket to keep away the cold. Not tearing at each other when the world already demanded so much from Caitlyn.

And, honestly, Vi understands. She knows the place Caitlyn’s in. A place where stress twists along with anxiety, where exhaustion sharpens everything until even love feels like sandpaper. Vi’s been there herself.

Still. Understanding her frustration doesn’t excuse it. Not the way how Vi approached. Not the way she added pressure when Caitlyn was already cracking under it.

Guilt sits heavy and unmoving. Vi forces herself to breathe. Slow, counted lungfuls of air, until the tightness in her chest eases just enough for her to think. She can’t leave it like this. Broken and torn. She won’t. Not tonight.

As her resolve hardens, she pushes herself up, moves on autopilot as she grabs her winter beanie, jacket, and boots. Keys clink softly as she lifts them from the rack. She stops at the door and hesitates, glancing toward their bedroom—toward Caitlyn—before pulling it open.

“I’ll fix this,” she murmurs to the empty space.

Then she steps out into the corridor, carrying that promise with her.

☃︎

Vi comes back a little before the clock strikes eleven, the door easing shut behind her with a soft click. Cold air clings to her jacket, but what really gives her away is the paper bag in her hand. Warm, smudged with grease at the bottom, and smelling unmistakably sweet. Fresh out of the oven.

Cupcakes. A whole haul of them.

The logo from The Last Drop is stamped on the side. One perk of working there—discounts that felt generous enough to toe a very specific moral line.

Vander’s voice echoes in her head anyway. “That’s not a discount kid, that’s just stealing.”

Vi snorts under her breath as she toes off her boots on the rack.

She paid for them. Mostly. And she worked the shift. And she didn’t sneak them out. That has to count for something.

She glances down at the bag again, adjusting her grip like it might argue back.

It’s not stealing if you work there, right?

The thought sticks with her as cupcakes swung slightly at her side like a peace offering she’s hoping will be enough.

Snow clung stubbornly to Vi’s beanie and jacket. She dusted it all off in rough swipes, the cold still biting at her pinked cheeks as shut the door behind her and stepped inside.

Her eyes drifted toward the kitchen first. The dinner table sat untouched. No Caitlyn perched there with a cup of tea, no soft humming, no papers spread out like usual. Vi then leaned just enough to check the living room too, but the couch was empty, blankets folded neatly.

Her chest tightened.

The thought settled heavy and sharp: Caitlyn alone in their room, hours passing, tears drying and starting all over again. Vi swallowed hard, guilt pressing into her ribs like a bruise. She left her like that.

She moved down the hallway slower now, each step quieter than the last. Her mind wouldn’t shut up. She rehearsed apology after apology and prepared to admit her mistakes. And by the time she reached their bedroom door, her heart was racing like it wanted to run ahead of her.

Vi drew in a steady breath, lifted her hand, and knocked softly, careful not to startle the inside. Vi was afraid that even the sound might push Caitlyn further away. 

“Cait?” Vi clears her throat softly. “I—uh, I brought cupcakes.”

She waits. The bag rustles in her grip as she shifts her weight, listening for anything, hoping for the sound of movement, maybe a breath, even a sniffle. But nothing answers her but the quiet.

“They’re your favorite,” she adds, gently now. “Strawberry. It's still warm.”

She doesn’t need to say why. Caitlyn’s sweet tooth has always been a big part of her, but strawberries are different. Caitlyn once told her the color reminded her of Vi’s hair, and that they tasted sweeter than any other flavor. Vi made a mental note of it back then when they were early into their relationship.

Cupcakes had become their unspoken peace offering. Bad days with her parents. Long nights buried in case files. Stress she carried behind straight shoulders and polite words. Vi would come home with a bag in hand, and Caitlyn’s tired eyes would soften, light in her shining again as she took the first bite.

That smile... that small, soft smile, was always Vi’s win. Every time. Standing there now, met with silence instead of it, Vi tightens her grip on the bag and hopes it still works.

But the door stayed shut, not even a creak or whisper escaping from behind it.

Vi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the cupcakes cradled like fragile hope in her hands. She waited. And waited. Using every ounce of her existing patience. A moment stretched, and then another, and then another, and her chest tightened as she imagined Caitlyn finally giving in to sleep, curled up and lonely in the dark room.

Still, she tried. “I’ll… I’ll leave these on the dining table,” she said softly, forcing a lightness into her voice that didn’t exist. “If you’re hungry, they’ll be here.”

No sound answered her. Not a sigh. Not a shuffle. Not even a whisper of acknowledgment. With a slow, resigned exhale, Vi lowered her head, the weight of her own disappointment pressing down onto her shoulders. She set the bag down on the table, every step out of the apartment echoing her gloomy heart, leaving the silence behind her like the cold winter wind.

☃︎

Vi’s steps felt heavy, like she was dragging herself through a fog, but somehow her feet carried her back to The Last Drop. She paused outside, tilting her head up to the familiar neon green sign, its glow washing over her face like a memory she didn’t know she missed. The world seemed to hush for a second before she pushed the door open.

The bell above the door chimed, sharp and bright, slicing through the quiet.

“Heyyy Vi! Here for your shift?” Mylo’s voice hit her like a cannon. Loud, obnoxious, like an itch in her ear and the scratch that satisfies it.

Vi rolled her eyes, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. “So you can run off to the arcade and leave me to man the tables by myself? Nah, happened once, but it won’t happen again, My.” She lightly shook her head at him, half-teasing, half-warning, before slipping past to the back of the bar, the hum of familiarity grounding her even as her thoughts swirled elsewhere.

“That was just one time. And besides, Clagg’s with me today. Even though he’s on the café side.” Mylo pointed toward the café section, where Claggor busied himself behind the counter, focused on orders yet somehow radiating calm.

Vi let out a weak chuckle, shaking her head. “Is Vander around?”

“Oh yeah, he’s holed up in his office with Benzo.”

“Cool. Thanks. Don’t do anything stupid.” Vi started up the stairs toward Vander’s office, her voice playful.

“That’s like saying don’t do what I say, but as I do!” Mylo’s voice echoed from below, teasing and obnoxious as ever.

Vi paused mid-step and continues, lips twitching into a grin. “Clever dumbass,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head but secretly enjoying the banter.

Even in the familiar chaos, a thread of warmth ran through her—grounding her as she moved up.

☃︎

She rapped her knuckles against Vander’s office door, the sound dull against the old wood.

“Door’s open!” came the familiar voice from inside.

Vi pushed it open and stepped in. Vander sat behind his desk, broad frame leaning forward, arms crossed over the tabletop like he’d been waiting for her to show up. Across from him, Benzo was half-perched against the desk, easy and relaxed, his face already breaking into a grin the moment he saw her.

“Vi! Been a while since we’ve seen one anotha!” Benzo lit up, crossing the room in a few quick steps before pulling her into a hug that smelled faintly of oil and coffee.

“Hey Uncle Benz, sorry if I haven’t been able to be in touch,” Vi said, her voice softer as she hugged him back, lingering just a second longer than usual.

“Aww nooo, it’s alright. Just seeing you stop by the shop is always a pleasure! Oh, and Ekko tells me he misses ya.” He pulled back and gave her shoulders a firm pat, the kind that carried more care than words.

Vi chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll give him a visit later, I was planning to see him anyway.”

From behind the desk, Vander watched the exchange in quiet silence, his eyes saying plenty—relief, concern, and the unspoken comfort of knowing she was still here, still standing. 

“What brings you here again, Vi?” Vander’s voice rolled out low and steady, cutting through the easy chatter like a hand on her shoulder.

The warmth drained from her almost instantly. Whatever lightness she’d walked in with slipped away, replaced by the knot she’d been carrying all night. “Can I, uh… can I talk to you?” She flicked her eyes toward Benzo instead of saying it outright.

Vander caught it. Straightened. Understood.

“Ahh, welp—I was just headin’ out anyway!” Benzo said quickly, already grabbing his coat. “Was nice meetin’ ya, Vi!” He gave her upper arm a friendly pat on his way past, a quiet show of support.

“Take care, Uncle Benz. Tell lil’ man Merry Christmas from me,” Vi said, forcing a small smile.

“Will do.” Benzo nodded, and the door shut behind him with a soft click that suddenly made the room feel smaller.

Vi dragged in a slow breath, then turned back to Vander. He rose from his chair and motioned toward the couch without a word. The familiar routine followed—glass, bottle, a measured pour. He handed her the scotch, his eyes never leaving her face.

“So,” he said gently, settling across from her. “What did you wanna talk about?”

The glass felt heavier in her hand than it should’ve, the silence thick enough to press against her ribs. 

Vi rolled the glass between her palms, the rim clicking softly against her ring as she let out a breath she’d been holding too long. “I screwed up.”

The words hung there. Vander didn’t rush to fill the space. He never did. After a few quiet beats, he finally asked, “Screwed up what?”

“We… fought again.”

Vander took a slow sip of his scotch. “Heard that one before.”

“Yeah.” Vi’s jaw tightened. “But this time feels different.”

He studied her over the rim of his glass. “How different?”

Vi opened her mouth—but nothing came out.

There had been plenty of fights before. Too many, probably. And at times, she’d end up right here, slumped across from Vander, spilling the mess in her chest until he helped her sort it out. Usually, it ended the same way: apologies, soft touches, making up… sometimes making out. Things smoothed over.

This didn’t feel like that.

She dropped her gaze to the amber liquid in her glass, watching it tremble with her grip. Thoughts tangled and unraveled just as fast, chewing at her until she forgot where she was—forgot Vander was waiting.

Since she didn’t answer, he spoke instead.

“You know,” Vander said, voice thoughtful, “your mother had the same problem with your dad once upon a time.”

Vi’s head snapped up.

“She’d come stormin’ in here, red-faced, talkin’ a mile a minute. Every word she could grab, she’d throw it like a bomb,” he went on, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he lifted his glass. “Always about some fight they’d just had.”

He took a drink, then huffed a quiet laugh. “She’d ramble for hours, like me and Silco weren’t even there—like we weren’t watchin’ her tear herself up over it.”

His eyes softened when they met Vi’s again. “Huffin’ and puffin’ sort of woman. Always was.”

A pause.

he added gently, “That sound familiar to you at all, kid?”

Vi paused at that. 

She let the thought sit, turning it over like a sore tooth she couldn’t stop prodding. Once she started lining the pieces up, she couldn’t unsee it—the sharp cheekbones, the steady eyes, the way confidence softened into warmth when they smiled. Even the hair, that strange blur of purple and blue in her memory. The resemblance hit sideways, unexpected and unsettling.

Caitlyn…

Her mother…

Yeah. That was going to live in her head forever now.

“Great,” Vi said flatly, staring into her glass. “Now I don’t think I’m sleeping tonight without thinking about that.”

Vander’s laugh rolled out of him, low and warm. “Look,” he said, setting his glass down and turning fully toward her, “the point is—you’re both gonna fight. A lot. You’ll say things you don’t mean. Things you wish you could shove back in your throat afterward. But that’s part of the deal.” His eyes searched hers. “And I’m guessin’ you already know that.”

Vi nodded. Of course she did.

She knew that love wasn’t all easy mornings and quiet laughs. It was storms, too—raised voices, thin ice, moments where everything felt wrong, and one word away from crashing down. It was exhausting just thinking about it. Living it was worse.

But even knowing that… even knowing how messy and heavy it could get—Vi felt something steady underneath it all.

She was willing to wade through the ugly parts. The deep, gritty stuff no one romanticized. Because Caitlyn would be there, digging in just as hard. Because Caitlyn loved her—fully, fiercely—and Vi knew, without question, she’d do the same.

That thought settled in her chest, warm and grounding.

Vi let out a slow breath, her shoulders easing as she leaned back, comforted—not because things were easy, but because they were worth it.

Vander’s voice dropped, softer than the crackle of the ice in his glass. “Question is,” he said, eyes steady on her, “are you willin’ to go through it all, right to the end?”

Vi didn’t need to think. The answer had already settled in her bones,

“With my all.” The words came easy, solid. She reached for the scotch—her mother’s glass, she realized distantly—and took a swallow. It burned on the way down, grounding her.

She lifted the glass in a small salute. “Thanks for the time. And the drinks, Vander.” Then she set it back on the table.

Vander was on his feet in the next second, pulling her into a hug that felt like home—broad arms, familiar strength. Vi hugged back just as hard, pressing her face into his shoulder, letting herself be held for a moment longer than necessary.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her the way he always did—proud, worried, steady. “Come back when you’ve got time,” he said, “not just when you need advice, yeah?”

Vi snorted softly. “It’s Christmas, Vander. Of course I’m comin’ back. And not just to spill my guts.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said with a grin. “Boys and I are settin’ up the bar—just us. Family Christmas.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Vi replied, meaning it.

She slipped out of the office and headed down the stairs, the noise of the bar rising to meet her. Her steps felt lighter now, surer. Whatever waited for her next—whatever long silences or harsh words that may come—she’ll face it head-on.

With her whole heart.

She barely made it to the stairs before nearly colliding with Silco.

“Hello, Violet.” His voice rasped low and familiar as he looked up from the clipboard in his hands, one brow lifting. “Paid Vander a visit?”

“Yeah.” Vi tipped her chin toward the office. “You?”

“About to do the same.” A thin smile tugged at his mouth as he lifted the board in a brief wave and continued up the steps, already lost in whatever numbers and notes lived in his head.

Vi watched him go for half a second, then shrugged it off and turned toward the bar.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Mylo called after her, leaning over the counter with that grin he wore when he thought he’d won something.

Vi didn’t even slow down. “Wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction anyway,” she shot back, flashing him a crooked smile over her shoulder.

The door swung open, cold air rushing in to meet her. Snow crunched under her boots as she stepped outside, the warmth and noise of the bar falling away behind her.

☃︎

Vi didn’t hesitate after leaving The Last Drop. Benzo’s corner store sat just a block away, its windows glowing warm against the snow like a promise. She pushed the door open, and the familiar jingle chimed overhead, followed by soft Christmas jazz drifting through the aisles—brass and piano mellow enough to sink into your bones.

“Ah, Vi! There ya are. ‘Was just talking about ya with Ekko.”

Benzo’s voice wrapped around her the same way it always did. He tipped his chin toward the counter, where Ekko stood half-leaning, half-pacing like he couldn’t quite stay still.

“Hey, Vi. Long time no see.”

Ekko reached out, and she met him halfway. Their hands moved on instinct—grip, slide, snap—ending with a light shoulder bump that made her grin despite herself.

“Yeah, been a while,” Vi said, breath fogging faintly. “Been so busy with Cait I barely had time to hang out with you. But hey—at least you’ve got Pow for company.” She wiggled her brows, teasing.

Ekko laughed, easy and familiar. “Yeah, I could say the same to you. No reason to see the older sister too, you know?”

“Hey, I’m not that old yet.” Vi shot back.

“Yet.” Ekko teased

She snorted, shaking her head. “Anyway—speaking of. How is Powder?” The question slipped out softer than the joke before it. It had been too long since she’d seen Powder, and the holidays had a way of making that ache louder.

“She’s with mom—er—Aunt Feli,” Ekko said, catching himself. “Bonding. Helping with decorations and all that.”

Something in Vi’s chest loosened at that. Powder. Their mom. Together. “Is she?” Vi smiled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess I’m missing out then.”

“Nah, don’t say that.” Ekko glanced at Benzo, smiling. “Pretty sure we’re all celebrating Christmas Day together. With Caitlyn as a plus, I’m sure.”

Vi’s smile held for a second too long—then slipped, just a little, like a crack in glass.

Benzo noticed right away.

“What’s the matter, Vi?”

She drew in a slow breath, the jazz filling the space where her words hesitated. “We, uh…” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “We’re both on edge right now.”

The kind of edge that made even good days feel fragile. 

Ekko tilted his head, concern slipping in beneath the easy grin. “Why? What happened?”

Vi leaned her elbows on the counter, fingers fidgeting on the seam of her glove. She confessed—about the raised voices, the bad timing, the words sharpened by fear and exhaustion. About how their love was once again challenged when pressure got involved. She didn’t dress it up. Didn’t soften the parts where she messed up. By the time she finished, her throat felt tight, like she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

Ekko listened without interrupting, rocking back on his heels. When she was done, he shrugged, gentle about it. “Sounds like a normal, romantic couple feud to me.”

“Ya Vi, I think Miss Caitlyn needs some time to process,” Benzo replied.

Vi hummed, eyes dropping to the scuffed floor. Time made sense. It always did. But guilt clung to her ribs anyway, heavy and stubborn. “I guess so,” she said. “I just wish I didn’t come out like a jerk in the end.”

Benzo and Ekko shared a look—one of those quiet, wordless exchanges that said more than advice ever could.

“Ya know what? Why don't ya give ‘er a present?” Benzo voiced out.

Ekko brightened. “Yeah, Vi. Spoil her—early Christmas present. You love doin’ corny shit.”

Vi let out a breath that almost laughed. Almost. “Yeah, well, unless you’ve got any ideas that don’t involve cupcakes, I’m all ears.”

“Give ‘er somethin’ memorable, somethin’ unique! Somethin’ that she an’ you both will treasure for the rest of yer lives.” Benzo suggested.

Vi snorted, a real laugh breaking through this time. “What, like a picture frame with our wedding photos?”

Ekko winced playfully. “Nah, that’s a little too early. But… pictures could work.”

Vi nodded slowly, gears turning now. An idea didn’t land yet—but something circled. “I’ll think about it,” she said, straightening herself. “Thanks, you two. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Vi. Always happy to help,” Ekko said, his smile easy.

“An’ hey, if ya still stuck, I've got plenty of stuff in store! With’a very reasonable price!” Benzo jests as he raises his arms as he gestures to the area in his store.

Vi laughed as she headed for the door, the bell already chiming above her. “Always hustling, huh, Uncle Benz. But… yeah. Maybe.”

“Ya know it Vi!” Benzo called after her.

The cold waited outside—but for the first time that night, Vi stepped into it with a plan, jagged but hopeful.

☃︎

Vi wandered aimlessly through Zaun, her boots crunching against the snow. The city looked like it had been swallowed by a snow globe—white flakes clung to rooftops, Christmas lights and garlands twisted around windows and railings, and the air smelled faintly of roasted nuts and sweet pastries. Children streaked past her, their laughter high-pitched and bright, parents half-heartedly scolding them, leaving trails of energy that made her feel both restless and oddly calm. Shop doors swung open and closed, spilling warmth and chatter into the cold streets.

Her feet eventually led her to the park, where the trees stood bare, their branches outlined in frost. The pond lay frozen like a glass mirror, and couples glided across it slowly, hands entwined. She stopped by the marble fountain sitting at the center, the water had transformed into a crystalline sculpture, water trapped mid-dance, catching the sun in sparkling shards. Vi lingered, mesmerized. A few bystanders were scattered around, just as hypnotized or taking pictures. Her mind flashed to a scene from Frozen—the light bouncing off the ice creating an illusion. Like magic had suspended its flow in a quiet moment.

“It’s sort of cruel to accuse the queen of Arendelle of being an evil sorceress when she clearly does not even know what she's doing,” Caitlyn had said, her voice soft, teasing, yet full of conviction.

Vi remembered nudging Caitlyn playfully with her curled arm, grinning. “Yeah, it kinda sucks. Say, if I were an ‘evil, wicked queen sorceress,’ would you believe me if I said I was innocent?”

Caitlyn tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Darling, I would've came running after you through that lake and over that blizzarding mountain if you would call that ‘believing in your innocence.’”

Vi smiled, the warmth of the memory threading through her chest. Last Christmas, they had watched Frozen together, and that same night she had learned that Caitlyn, despite knowing nearly half of all Disney classics, had never actually seen it. The thought made Vi laugh quietly to herself, remembering her own shocked expression as the two of them were sprawled on the living room couch, sharing blankets and homemade popcorn. 

Vi’s mind wandered back, unbidden, to a night painted in laughter and warmth. She could almost hear Caitlyn’s bubbly, teasing voice, still vivid in her memory.

“So you're telling me you've seen Snow White, Pinocchio, Fantasia, a movie I haven’t seen yet by the way, but not Frozen? You're pulling my leg, babe.” Vi asked, filled with shock and disbelief.

“I am not pulling any of your legs unless it's in our bedroom, Violet. And how dare you condemn me for not seeing this film when you haven't seen Fantasia yourself! You red-headed hypocrite!” She remembers Caitlyn smacking one of their throw pillows at her.

She chuckled softly, the sound of Caitlyn’s high-pitched, squeaky giggle echoing in her mind like a melody she could never tire of. Vi’s gaze drifted back to the frozen fountain, sunlight fracturing on the ice like scattered diamonds. The chill in the air, the quiet, and the memory of Caitlyn’s laughter wrapped around her heart, reminding her why even the smallest moments with her felt larger than life.

With a quiet breath, she continued her path through the park, a small smile tugging at her lips, carrying both the warmth of the memory and the ache of longing. 

☃︎

Vi sank onto a bench tucked a little farther from the fountain, near the frozen pond, where the quiet stretched like winter muffs. Snow crunched faintly under the feet of distant passerbys, and the crisp air smelled faintly of pine and winter chill. The world felt slower here, gentler, and for a moment, she could let herself breathe.

Her thoughts drifted unbidden back to that chaotic argument—the words she’d flung like knives, the way Caitlyn had gone rigid, tears brimming, then fled from her. The memory twisted in her chest, leaving a hollow ache.

She pressed her palms to her knees, drawing in a sharp, steadying breath. If I ever hurt her like that again… Vi promised herself silently, I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes. She imagined Caitlyn’s laugh, her shy grin, the way her eyes sparkled when she wasn’t guarded. She’d move heaven and earth to see that sight again.

Caitlyn wasn’t just someone she loved—she was Vi’s axis, her anchor, her gravity. Losing her, seeing her in pain… would be a fire hotter than any hell Vi could imagine. The thought made her chest tighten, her knuckles white against her pants. 

She let it happen anyway. 

Vi pressed the back of her head against the wooden bench’s cold backrest, shivering slightly as she drew a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyelids stung, and she squeezed them shut, counting slow, measured breaths to push the tears back. Snow-dusted air bit at her nose and cheeks, and she reminded herself: crying here wouldn’t help right now. 

Tears weren’t the solution—not this time. What mattered was fixing the gaping rift between her and Caitlyn. She’d patched things up before, sure, but now her mind felt like the frozen fountain. How do you mend love when every idea seems hollow?

Vander’s words echoed in her mind: Are you going to give it your all? Hell yes, she was—but this time... how? Vi’s love was a language of action and gifts, by giving through effort and thoughtfulness. But at this moment, the only thing she could think to offer was cupcakes. Sweet, repetitive and shallow. Not the solution.

She groaned into her gloved hands and tugged her beanie down over her eyes, frustrated with her own ineptitude. She remembers Caitlyn calling her names during their fight—a sting Vi could still feel—but Vi knew deep down Caitlyn hadn’t meant it with malice. In calmer times, Caitlyn praised her brilliance, the spark in her hands and mind that turned ordinary days into small wonders.

But right now… her brain refused to cooperate. Everything felt muffled, frozen, like the pond before her. And yet, somewhere underneath the confusion and frustration, one thought remained clear: she would figure it out. She had to.

She lightly bounced the back of head on the backrest repeatedly in frustration, forcing a thought to form. Think, think, think. Her thought process can buffer sometimes, a small side effect from years of childhood and blunt force trauma. But once she gets an idea in, she can be ‘the most annoying wisearse there is’.

Vi sank onto the edge of the park bench, letting the icy air bite at her cheeks as her mind drifted back to that day in the shooting range. She could still hear Caitlyn’s voice, crisp and patient, as she clicked open the gun safe. “Do you understand how the rifle works now, my love?”

Vi had leaned against the rifle, proud as if it were a cane. “Yeah, took me a while, but now that I get it, I just might be the best sharp-shooter to ever exist, Cupcake.”

Her memory of Caitlyn’s raised brow made her grin faintly through the melancholy. “Do be careful with what you say, wisearse. Wouldn't want you to eat your own words. And please treat your rifle with respect, it's not like a walking stick used for hiking.”

Vi had shot back cheekily, “I thought you said I was ‘a smart cookie?’”

“On occasions, my love,” Caitlyn had replied with a playful saunter, leaving Vi alone with her thoughts and the empty echo of her laughter.

Vi slouched against the bench again, fingers brushing the snow-dusted wood. She remembered Benzo and Ekko’s advice about gifts—something memorable, something unique, something the both of them would treasure for the rest of their lives.

A sad chuckle escaped her. Way to be vague, Uncle Benz, she thought, letting the memory mix with the biting cold and the weight of the present. The perfect idea still eluded her, but the urgency of it burned quietly beneath the surface.

Vi’s gaze drifted to the frozen fountain, the sunlight bouncing off the icy surface, when a line from a song in Frozen echoed in her head—the one about Anna and Kristoff getting married by surprise, the lyrics somehow resonating to her.

People make bad choices if they're mad, or scared, or stressed.

But throw a little love their way. And you'll bring out their best.

Her chest tightened a little at that. Huh. True love brings out the best. 

Love.

What a corny ass line.

Yet her mind wandered back to Benzo’s words: something memorable, something unique, something that both of them would treasure for the rest of their lives. And she couldn’t stop the small spark in her chest.

She sat up straighter on the bench, snow crunching beneath her boots. Will it be enough to mend what had happened? Will it be enough at all? She’d never given a gift that wasn’t something materialized. 

But love itself is unique. Love can be memorable. Love is something you can hold onto forever. Love is what she gave Caitlyn everyday when she'd wake up in the morning, and before she slept at night. 

Vi is full of it. 

Vi’s thoughts were drifting, the snow crunching faintly beneath her boots, when a flurry of laughter pulled her attention. A younger couple dashed around the park, shrieking and giggling, tossing snow at one another. One tripped on a hidden patch beneath the powdery blanket, sending them both sprawling into the snow. Their eyes widened in momentary shock, the world around them narrowing to the other’s safety, before giggles erupted from both, echoing across the frozen park.

Vi smiled at their chaotic joy, the warmth of their happiness tugging at her chest. Her mind drifted to another memory, brighter and closer to her heart.

“Vi, I think we should—Oof! Hey!” Caitlyn’s voice had been interrupted, a soft yelp of surprise trailing off.

“Hehe, what was that? What were you gonna say?” Vi had asked sarcastically.

“I said—Hey!” Her sentence had been interrupted by another snowball, “Stop that! You know it’s rude to interrupt someone from finishing their sentences with a sno—agh! Oh, alright. That’s it! You want a snowball fight? I’ll give you a snowball fight.” 

“Show me what you got, Cupcake!”

Vi grinned, feeling warmth rise to her cheeks, imagining Caitlyn’s eyes twinkling with her snow-dusted hair. She let the memory unfold, the laughter and teasing filling her senses as though she could reach back and grab it.

“Okay. This is getting kinda unfair with how long your arms are, Cupcake!”

“Oh? But I thought you asked for this by throwing snowballs at me as I was trying to finish what I was saying!” Vi remembered she had a pile of snowballs at her disposal beside her.

“Listen—Ow! I was just tryna—woah! Heh, close one. I was just tryna—make you smile and—Wooh! You actually almost got me there…”

“Trying to make me smile? Please, darling, there are plenty of ways to make me smile other than chucking balled ice at me.”

“Well, seems to be working now! Woah! ‘Cuz I can see that shit-eating grin on your face!” Vi had pointed out.

“Watch your foul, sailor mouth, darling. Or else I’ll shove one of these in your chops!”

“…You developing a new kink, Cupcake?”

“Dear gods, you’re incorrigible! And—stop hiding behind those benches, you cheat!”

Vi rose from her bench, brushing snow off her pants and sleeves, letting her legs carry her almost automatically, replaying each playful step.

“Hah! Not even those long-ass legs can catch up with me, Cupcake!” Vi taunted, running away from her 6ft girlfriend.

“Just wait until I get my hands on you!”

“Oh! Is that a threat or a promise?”

“It’s both and it will not be the kind that you would like!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Cupcake!”

“Vi! You’re going to crash!” Caitlyn gasped, sharp but Vi couldn't have caught its playful tone.

“Huh? Oh f—OOF” She had felt something solid smack her forehead hard.

“Hah! Gotcha.” Caitlyn had tackled onto her, both of them diving into the snow. 

“Goddamn. I can’t believe I fell for that. Stupid branch.” she hissed in pain as she rubs her forehead.

“Serves you right.” She says as she pins her down. 

“…So what’re you gonna do to me now that you’ve caught me, hm Cupcake? You gonna claim me right here right now?” She said as she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Vi, you’re absolutely incorrigible.”

“And I…” Vi had paused to breathe before speaking again “still have no idea what that means.”

“Hmph, you won’t have to.”

Caitlyn’s cold fingers slid down Vi’s beanie, tugging it over her eyes. “Hey wh—”

Vi’s lips curved into a dreamy smile. She felt it all again—the sting of Caitlyn’s frosty touch, the warmth of her lips pressed against her own, the heat of flushed bodies countering the snow’s icy bite, and the unspoken, electric connection threading between them.

Her heart ached and thrilled in equal measure. That closeness, that chaotic intimacy—they could have it again. And Vi’s resolve hardened like the frozen pond beneath her boots: she will fix it, no matter what it took. 

☃︎

She doubled back to Benzo’s with her shoulders squared like she’d just made a promise to herself she wasn’t allowed to break. The idea felt fragile but solid all at once—she wasn’t just apologizing this time. She was going to give Caitlyn something that could hold her love, something that wouldn’t melt away once the words ran out. A reminder. Something permanent.

Pictures could do that.

The bell above Benzo’s door chimed as she stepped inside, bringing with it the warm hum of Christmas jazz and the faint smell of paper and metal. Benzo was halfway up a ladder, arms stretched as he hung fairy lights along a bare stretch of a wall. A wreath dangled crookedly from his elbow, bobbing as he moved.

“Vi! Yer back! I take it you remembered me offer?” Benzo called down, peering over his glasses before carefully climbing back to the floor.

“Yeah,” Vi said, a small smile tugging at her lips as she shrugged, tucking her gloved hands in her pockets. “Couldn’t turn down a very generous offer.”

“Well now,” Benzo said, dusting his hands off as he moved behind the counter, “wha’dya need, Missy?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just pictured Caitlyn’s smile—soft, surprised, the kind she wore when she didn’t expect to be loved so loudly. That was enough.

The Polaroid printer hummed and clicked like it was taking its sweet time on purpose. Vi leaned on the counter, watching the first photo slowly bleed into existence, then the next, and the next. One became five, five became twenty, and then some. Each image felt like a small anchor—proof that they were real, that they’d been happy, that they could be again.

While the machine worked, she wandered the aisles, fingers brushing over sticker packs and colored pens. She picked the ones Caitlyn would like—the cute, neat ones, and a few silly ones she knew would make her roll her eyes and secretly smile. She grabbed a handful of candy for the road, mostly without thinking, and paid at the counter.

“I’ll be back for the pictures,” Vi told Benzo, tapping the counter once like a promise.

She stepped back out into the cold and headed for the bookstore down the block to buy an empty journal. But she found no journals. Not a single one. Her chest sank, yet she didn’t let it stop her. She jogged across town, breath fogging the air, boots crunching through snow, all the way to one of Caitlyn’s favorite bookstores—the one with the creaky floors and the warm yellow lights in the windows.

And thank Janna, the door was unlocked, the sign flipped to OPEN for the holidays.

Vi slowed to a walk as she reached for the handle, her pulse steady but determined. This was it. She was going to make it right.

Midway through browsing, Vi slowed to a stop, fingers hovering over the spines as her eyes snagged on a familiar title. Little Women. The letters were embossed neatly, the cover still crisp, untouched, waiting.

She frowned slightly. She and Caitlyn had seen the film more than once, quoted the lines for fun even, but she’d admitted—almost sheepishly—that she’d never owned the physical copy. Said it was never in stock whenever she'd check. Caitlyn, an absolute bookworm, without Little Women on her shelf. The irony had made Vi laugh ‘till her stomach ached then.

Now it's right here. It's right in front of her.

Vi glanced around the aisle, as if someone might stop her, then noticed the small sign tucked beneath it—last copy. The book felt heavier when she picked it up, like it carried more than paper and ink. It felt like timing. Like the universe nudging her elbow saying don’t overthink this.

She might've just a little.

But the decision was immediate, almost instinctive. She tucked the book under her arm before doubt could creep in and took it straight to the counter.

Back out in the cold, she made her way to Benzo’s again, boots familiar with the path now. The Polaroids were ready when she arrived, and each one was vibrant, glossy, and perfect. She flipped through them slowly, chest tightening at the sight of frozen smiles, candid laughter, stolen moments she hadn’t realized she’d memorized.

“These came out real nice,” Benzo said proudly.

“Yeah,” Vi replied, quieter. “They did.”

She thanked him—properly this time—before stepping back out into Zaun’s snow-lit streets, the weight of the bag in her hands comforting instead of heavy. Familiar faces passed her, voices calling out greetings, laughter spilling from doorways.

And for the first time that night, Vi felt like she was walking toward something instead of away from it.

☃︎

Vi took a deep, unsteady breath as she stopped at the edge of the front yard, boots half-buried in familiar snow. Her childhood home stood exactly where it always had, but now dressed in holiday design. Colorful fairy lights traced the outlines of the doors, window sills, and porch pillars, blinking softly against the night like a lighthouse. Christmas garlands looped along the railings, a wreath hung proudly at the center of the door, and the yard had traded its old garden gnomes for little green-and-red elves, frozen mid-cheer. Even the bushes had been trimmed neatly and wrapped in lights, glowing like they were singing.

For a moment, Vi just stood there.

Then she stepped forward, dragging her feet up the path as if afraid the ground might vanish if she moved too fast. A smile tugged at her mouth despite herself as memories flooded in. Warm, loud, alive.

“C’mon, Vi! It's Christmas! Stop sleeping in! Ekko and the others are having a snowball fight!”

“Okay, okay! Slow down, Pow, lemme get outta bed first.”

Her chest tightened. The porch steps creaked under her weight, the sound so familiar it made her throat ache. When she reached the door, her hand hovered midair, fingers curled, frozen there as another rush of memories crashed in.

“Mm! Please never stop cooking ma!” Powder exclaimed as she gulped her bowl down.

“Yeah! This stew is a-maaazinggg! Would you teach me how?” Vi had swooned exaggeratedly 

“Of course I'll teach you, if you wash all the dishes.” Their mom had chuckled.

The echoes of it lingered, filling the quiet until it felt too full to breathe in. Vi swallowed hard, grounding herself in the present. She lowered her hand, then pressed the doorbell instead—gentler somehow than knocking.

When the door opened, her composure shattered.

“Violet?”

The voice was tender, warm, unmistakably hers. Surprise flickered across her mother’s face, quickly melting into something softer, something that wrapped around Vi’s heart and squeezed.

Vi smiled again—she’d lost count by now—but this one stretched wider than any before, trembling at the edges.

“I'm home again, ma.”

☃︎

The warmth of the house surrounded all over Vi the moment she stepped inside, like it had been waiting for her for a while. Heat from the fireplace rolled through the living room like gentle waves, the fire crackling and popping as orange light danced along the walls. Colorful knitted stockings hung from the mantel, slightly uneven, just the way they’d always been. Beside the hearth stood a vibrant Christmas tree, full and proud, dressed in an unapologetic mix of ornaments. Old and dented balls, little dolls, strings of pearls, sprigs of holly, and twinkling fairy lights that blinked lazily. Beneath it sat neatly arranged boxes wrapped in festive paper, clearly props for now, placeholders waiting for real ones for Christmas morning.

Vi lingered there, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, letting it all sink in.

The air smelled faintly of floral cleaner and old wood, a scent so deeply ingrained in her memory that it tugged her backward in time without warning. She could almost see her younger self sprawled on the floor, controller in hand, staring at the same television that still sat against the wall—outdated, stubbornly yet surprisingly functional. She eyed the hand-me-down PS3 humming softly, remembered hours lost to laughter and shouting, remembered how Powder curled beside her, determined and competitive.

“Aw c’mon! You shelled me like, 5 times in a row now!” Vi argued.

“I guess I have a good jinx on my side!” Powder smashed her buttons with her thumbs aggressively.

“Is that why you named yourself ‘GetJinxxxedLMAO’ as your gamertag?”

Vi could hear it clearly—the rapid clicking of plastic buttons, the triumphant giggles that followed every win. She could even remember that obnoxious username flashing across the screen, burning itself into her brain like hot glue.

“So what made you decide to come visit, Little Peach?”

The nickname cut cleanly through Vi’s thoughts, yanking her back into the present. She turned just in time to see her mother leaning against the doorway, arms crossed loosely, eyes warm and knowing—the same look she’d worn her whole life. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

Vi groaned on instinct. “You know I don't like that, Ma. Sounds like something else.” Her shoulders shook as she snickered anyway, the protest half-hearted at best.

“Well, just for tonight, Big Apple.” Mama winked, utterly unapologetic.

“Ma, stop being so cheesy!” Vi's face was surely red from flushing, as a laugh slipped through and gave her away.

Mama’s grin only widened.

“At least you know where yours came from.”

Mama had always done this—randomly granting food nicknames like affectionate curses. Fruits, pastries, whatever her mother was obsessed with at the time or not. It used to make Vi bristle when she was younger, cheeks burning as her friends overheard. Now it just made her ears warm, that familiar mix of embarrassment and comfort settling in her chest. Annoying or not, it was love in its purest form. 

At least it was in Vi's book.

“What's all the hubbub—?”

The voice floated in from the hallway, light, carefree, a tone carrying an ease that made Vi’s chest tighten before she even turned around. It came from just past the arch that divided the living room from the dining room.

Vi turned.

Her sister Powder stood there, half-hidden by the corner, blue hair twisted up into a messy space bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She looked older, taller, sharper around the edges, but unmistakably the same. For a split second, Vi just stared, like her eyes needed time to believe what they were seeing, before her lips split into a grin.

“Hey, Pow-pow.”

The words came out softer than she meant them to, her voice betraying her with a slight tremor. Vi didn’t know why—Powder was right there, solid and real—but the sight of her still felt like something fragile, like she might blink and lose it.

Powder blinked back at her, frozen—before breaking into a sprint. 

“Vi—!”

Without warning, she slammed herself into Vi with enough force to knock the air from her lungs and nearly take them both down.

“Whoa! Nearly brought me down with that one.” Vi laughed breathlessly as she staggered, then steadied, arms instinctively wrapping around Powder’s smaller frame. She held on tighter than she meant to, like loosening her grip might send her sister slipping away again.

Powder buried her face into Vi’s shirt. “Missed you, sis.” Her voice came out muffled, thick with everything she hadn’t said.

“Aww, I missed you too, Pow.” Vi swallowed hard, blinking fast as heat burned behind her eyes. She pressed her chin lightly to the top of Powder’s head, breathing her in the scent of blueberry soap.

“Texting and calling weren’t enough.”

“I get you.” Vi nodded, one hand coming up to gently cupping the back of Powder’s head, fingers brushing against stray strands of blue. Some distances couldn’t be bridged by screens or words. 

Some things needed arms around you.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, the world narrowing to the quiet space between heartbeats.

Then Mama’s voice broke through, trembling in the best way.

“I'm so happy my girls are home. I still can't believe I get a chance to watch you both grow into the women you are now. And I am so proud of both of you.”

Vi and Powder pulled back just enough for their mother to cup their cheeks, her palms warm, thumbs brushing softly as if she were memorizing them all over again. Her eyes shone, in 

“Thanks, mom.” Powder said, smiling through it.

“We wouldn't be here without you, momma.” Vi added, her voice steady this time—certain.

Mama laughed quietly, breath hitching as she pulled them both closer. In that moment, wrapped in arms and unspoken understanding, it felt like the world outside could wait. 

“Oh c’mon, girls—give yourselves some credit too. You’ve both worked very hard to get to where you are now.”

Felicia’s words rang out like swelling pride, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be expressed. She spoke about it like their accomplishments were obvious facts of life. Vi caught the shine in her mama’s eyes anyway—the way she stood a little straighter, chest lifted, as if their successes belonged to her too.

“Am I also part of your pride, Aunty?”

The deeper voice came from around the archway. Vi didn’t even have to look before she laughed, the sound spilling out of her like relief.

“Little man!” Vi turned just in time to see Ekko step fully into view. “Figured you came since Pow is here. I just thought I was too late.”

She closed the distance in two strides and pulled him into a hug, rough and affectionate. Ekko stiffened for half a second before returning it, patting her back like he always did—trying and failing to pretend he didn’t need it just as much.

“Nah, man,” he said easily when they pulled apart. “I was planning to spend time with Pow and Aunt Feli until Christmas Day.”

From the kitchen came the clatter of plates and utensils, along with Felicia’s voice, warm and mock-stern. “I told you, you can just call me mom, Eggo.”

Ekko sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling as if enduring a great burden. “My bad, mom.”

“Eggo?!” Vi barked out a laugh, doubling over slightly. “Like the brand?”

Ekko shot her a look that was equal parts warning and resigned annoyance.

“Shut up, Vi.”

“No, seriously,” she teased, failing to stifle her giggles. “I wanna know!”

☃︎

Dinner came together the way it always did in this house, not planned, no ceremony. Just plates and bowls set down on the table, steam curling into the air, the rich smell of meat stew wrapping the air like a blanket. Nothing special in any way since Mama made it clear the good dishes were being saved for Christmas Day.

But this stew was special. To Vi anyway. It always has been. One spoonful in and Vi felt it settle warm in her chest, the same way it used to when she was a kid. Whenever she'd come home from school with a fever, or stuck indoors because the snow was coming down too hard. It tasted like comfort. Like being told to rest after a long day and not worry about anything else.

And the soup—gods, the soup. Vi barely let it cool before digging in, going back for more like she hadn’t eaten in days.

“So, Pow,” Vi asked around a mouthful of stew, already reaching for another spoonful, “how’s masters?”

Powder’s eyes lit up instantly. She straightened in her chair and tipped her chin up, smugness written all over her face. “It’s going really great. More than great, actually. Top of ma’ class.”

Vi snorted softly, but the pride crept in anyway.

“Even I couldn’t keep up with her,” Ekko cut in, shaking his head with a grin. “She uses these weird, questionable methods for doing things—but it works out somehow. Even the professors are impressed. Some of them are mentoring her.”

Powder’s smile grew, like she was trying not to let it—but failing.

Vi finally swallowed and leaned back just enough to look at her sister properly, warmth blooming behind her ribs. “That’s my baby sis, alright.” raising up a hand for a high-five. 

“What about you, Sugarplum? How are your job applications?” her mother asked, voice light but eyes attentive as she reached for her glass.

Vi lifted her spoon and blew across the surface of the soup, watching the steam curl away before answering. “I’ve already done interviews for Aircraft Maintenance and Auto Body Tech, but I haven’t gotten calls from them yet. Still waiting for the response.” She shrugged, like it didn’t matter much—like she wasn’t counting days in her head.

“Well hopefully you’ll get the gig—you’re nuts when it comes to cars and planes!” Powder teased, grinning. “You’re still working for Vander, though, right?”

“Yep.” Vi nodded and took another sip. “Turns out the Last Drop’s bar-slash-café with an upstairs gym pays just enough for Cait and I.”

She kept her tone casual, but the word us landed heavier than she meant it to. Her grip tightened slightly on the spoon. She had only said Caitlyn’s name, yet it pressed against her ribs like an anvil. Vi let out a quiet huff—small enough to hide, sharp enough to feel.

Or so she thought.

Not long after, Vi volunteered to help with the dishes. It felt easier to keep her hands busy. The sink filled with warm water, plates and bowls clinking softly as she rinsed while her mother stacked and wiped them clean. The house hummed around them until her mother spoke,

“Violet,” her mother said gently, not looking up, “I love that you came home to visit. But usually you come here when you’re upset.” A pause, then a knowing snicker. “Unless you forgot the password to your bank account again.”

Vi snorted despite herself.

“So,” her mother flicked her hands dry, stepping closer, “what’s wrong?”

She placed a hand at the small of Vi’s back, rubbing slow circles. The tension Vi hadn’t realized she was holding unraveled almost immediately. Her shoulders sagged. Her heart had thudded fast, then slow thanks to the comfort of her mama's hand.

And then it all spilled out.

The weeks of strain. The arguments that only pressed paused. The words Vi wished she could drag back into her mouth. How she’d lashed out. How Caitlyn had frozen, eyes glassy, before running away from her. The way that moment replayed every time Vi closed her eyes.

Her mother listened without interrupting, just breathing alongside her.

“Oh, baby,” she sighed when Vi finally fell quiet. “She was already on edge from the start. It’s the little things that pile up until something breaks.” Her hand slid up to Vi’s shoulder, grounding and warm. “She didn’t mean to say the things she said, Violet.”

Then, gently, “Did you mean what you said?”

Vi shook her head immediately, throat tight.

Her mother squeezed her shoulder. “Then I’m as sure as a mother can be—she didn’t mean it either.”

☃︎

Vi padded up the stairs, each step creaking the same way it always had, until she reached the door at the end of the hall. Her childhood room. She hesitated for half a second, then pushed it open and flipped the switch. Light bloomed all at once—blue and purple fairy lights flickering awake, soft yellow lamps filling the space with a warm, familiar glow. The room hadn’t changed. Not really. Band posters still clung to the walls and even the ceiling, corners peeling like they’d refused to grow up with her. Her first acoustic guitar leaned against the rack, its body still crowded with mismatched stickers Powder had slapped on years ago, right beside the worn red punching bag she used to take her frustrations out on.

The full-body mirror stood where it always had, stubbornly plastered with old sticky notes—cringy motivational quotes, half-faded pop quiz reminders, short quotes to 'breathe' and 'don’t screw this up'. Vi snorted softly at that.

Her single bed sat in the corner, neatly made, and right in the middle was her old bunny plush, propped against the pillows like it had been watching her. Waiting for her.

“Awe,” Vi breathed, voice wobbling, the sound slipping out before she could stop it.

She crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight in the achingly familiar way. She picked up the plush and squeezed its soft sides. It felt smaller in her hands now… or maybe she just grown bigger. She couldn’t tell. She only knew it used to feel enormous when she was little, like a big, bundle of fluff in her arms.

“If you ever feel scared, Little Violet Junior will be right here to protect you.” Her mother’s voice echoed clear as day as she gently waved the plushie to Vi.

“I love her! I promise to protect you too, Violet Junior! We can protect each other!”

Vi let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she remembered her own squeaky, overly serious voice. Gods, did she mean every word.

Her smile lingered, softer now. Before Powder was born. Before everything else. She’d learned how to protect something she cares for like instinct.

Some things never left her.

The smile didn’t last. It slipped from Vi’s face the moment Caitlyn’s name crept back into her thoughts, uninvited and heavy.

Caitlyn is alone right now.

The idea settled in Vi’s chest like a stone. No arms around her. No steady presence to lean into. No one standing guard the way Vi always tried to do. Vi wasn’t there—couldn’t be there—and all she could do was hope. Hope that Caitlyn had found some small way to breathe again. Hope she’d gone somewhere safe, somewhere familiar, done some hobby to keep the cruel voices at bay. Friends. Family. Anything that might dull the ache she might carry.

But even as the hope formed, Vi knew better.

Caitlyn wasn’t built that way. She’d been raised to with an iron spine with her chin up high, and the willingness to carry the weight of the world on her own. To endure quietly. To prove she could handle anything placed in her hands, because that was what a Kiramman does. Strength wasn’t shared—it was performed, polished. To be borne alone.

Caitlyn was the kind of person who hated leaning on others. Hated the thought of being a burden in someone else’s life, to rely on others, to ask for help.

That mentality. That custom. That… tradition—pissed Vi off the most.

Stubborn as always, Vi thought, the corner of her mouth twitching with something bitter and fond all at once.

Takes one to know one, her mind shot back.

She sighed, fingers tightening around the plush in her hands. Protecting had always been her instinct. Letting someone carry things alone—even when they insisted—felt like standing back while someone she loved walked into a blizzard without winter clothes.

Vi let out a slow breath, the kind that dragged from her chest like it weighed something. The apology gift still sat unfinished in her mind restlessly. She didn’t want Caitlyn sitting alone with the silence Vi left behind, thinking she’d been forgotten or worse—abandoned. Two days felt like a lifetime. Too long to be without Caitlyn’s voice, her presence, the way she filled a room just by existing. Vi pressed her lips together, already aching to see her again.

She was about to start pacing, planning for her next move—when the door creaked open without warning.

Powder’s head popped in the small gap like a jack-in-the-box, bright and unapologetic, snapping Vi clean out of her spiral.

“‘Sup sis.” She grinned, smugly spreading a ear to ear grin.

Vi blinked, then huffed. “Couldn't bother to let me give you my permission before you enter huh?”

“Oh! my apologies, your Highnesses.” Powder bowed her head low, exaggerated and dramatic, backing herself out as she shut the door with a soft click. A second later, there was a knock, pretentiously polite. “May I come in?” Her voice came through the wood, muffled, clearly holding back her laughter.

Vi shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. Same kid, same old Powder. “You may come in, Pow-pow.”

The door flew open again as Powder burst into the room, catching the doorknob at the last second to keep it from slamming into the wall. She beamed, triumphant, already halfway inside—energy spilling in where Vi’s thoughts had been too heavy to move. 

“So what’s buggin’ ya sis? Saw that frown when I came in the first time.” she asks as she plops down next to Vi.

Powder’s tone was light, but her eyes lingered on Vi a second longer than necessary. Vi’s smile faltered under it. She looked away, thumb rubbing the worn fabric of the plushie in her hands.

“‘S’nothing.”

“Awe c’mon sis! It's Christmas! Perfect month to pull some hilarious, totally harmless and memorable pranks on Mylo.” Powder leaned in, theatrically whispering the last words like it was secret information.

Vi let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but didn’t quite make it. Her shoulders drooped as she stared back down at the plushie, fingers curling tighter around it.

The room fell quiet. Not awkward—just is. The fairy lights hummed softly, flickering once like they were taking a breath too.

“I know what ya need.” Powder’s voice cut through it, confident now. She snaps her fingers at Vi like she’d just cracked a code.

“You do?” Vi lifted her head, sceptic with amusement but hopeful despite herself.

“Yeah c'mon, like the sappy stuff mom used to do,” Powder said as she climbed further onto Vi's bed, shimmying herself back until she was propped against the pillows.

She patted the space beside her and tilted her head. “cuddle close, scootch in.”

Vi cracked a real smile this time. A shaky sigh slipped out of her as she crawled over, easing down beside Powder. She adjusted carefully, settling in, plushie tucked against her chest. Powder’s fingers traced slow, familiar paths along Vi’s arm and shoulder—grounding, warm, steady. The kind of touch that said you don’t have to talk about yet.

Then the room filled with a song Vi hadn’t heard out loud in years.

“Dear friend, across the river

My hands are cold and bare”

Vi froze for half a second before the tension melted right out of her spine. Her chest ached in that quiet, nostalgic way. Their mom used to sing this when it was time for bed, or when nightmares clawed them awake. Back then, Vi hadn’t understood the words—only the comfort of the tune, even now. 

“Dear friend across the river”

Vi joined in a whisper, barely louder than a breath.

“I'll take what you can spare.”

“I know what you're doing,” Vi murmured, voice small but fond. She’d sung this exact song to Powder more times than she could count, for comfort and for reminder. Funny how the tables turned.

“Shhh, I know.” Powder whispered, not missing a beat.

“I ask of you a penny

My fortune, it will be.”

Vi closed her eyes, the lyrics falling from her lips like muscle memory.

“I ask you without envy,

We raise no mighty towers,

Our homes are built with stone.

So come across the river

and find the world below.”

The words wrapped around her, slow and gentle. The weight in her chest loosened. Her grip on the plushie softened. Somewhere between the warmth at her side and the familiar melody, the fight finally left her body.

Sleep took her quietly, like it had been waiting for Vi to relax.

☃︎

Vi stirred to the faint weight on her arm and the warmth pressed into her side. Powder lay beside her puffing soft, uneven breathing, with quiet snores that hitched every few seconds—sprawled onto her side without care in the world, arms loose above her head, mouth slightly open, a line of drool darkening sliding down her chin and onto the pillowcase.

Vi turned her head and blinked the sleep from her eyes. The round clock on the wall glowed faintly in the dark.

12:09 AM.

I didn’t realize I fell asleep.

She carefully untangles herself off of Powder and pushed herself up slowly, stretching until her shoulders popped, mindful not to jostle the mattress too much. Powder didn’t stir. Vi looked at her for a long moment, the way her sister’s face softened and unbothered in sleep, smug grins and quick wit gone without a trace.

A smile tugged at Vi’s lips.

She reached for the blanket and pulled it over Powder’s shoulders, tucking it in like mama used to do. The plushie followed, placed gently on top of her, its worn ear brushing the side of Powder’s face. Vi leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead, and whispered, barely louder than a breath, “Thank you, Pow.”

Then she stood, easing toward the door. It closed behind her with a careful click.

The hallway greeted her in silence. She padded forward, her worn socks quiet against the floorboards, and as she neared the stairs, the walls greeted her.

Frames lined the hall from end to end, moments frozen behind glass. Vi slowed without meaning to. Her eyes landed on each one. There she was, younger, arms wrapped awkwardly around a diapered Powder who barely fit in her lap. And another, one with birthday candles blown out mid-laugh. Another with scraped knees and missing teeth. Another, now with newspaper clippings taped crookedly beside photos of Vi in boxing gloves and a several gold medals around her neck, sweat-soaked and cheering, her name printed in bold, stating she had won international level bouts in women's boxing.

Graduation photos followed—caps thrown, smiles bright and proud. Medals held up, certificates held on their frames. Two sisters with hot pink and blue hair growing up, changing, always side by side.

At the end of the wall hung the largest photo of all. Their family, squeezed onto a fairly sized couch, limbs tangled, laughter caught mid-chaos. No one posed properly. No one needed to.

Vi paused there, chest tight in that quiet, aching way. She took it in one last time before turning toward the stairs, carrying all of it with her as she descended.

Vi slowed her steps, almost drifting rather than walking, letting the quiet stretch as she took in the portraits dotting the wall like trophies. A small smile lingered on her face. Simple photos, she thought, had a magical way of grounding you—proof that time had passed, that bruises healed, that staying mattered. Each frame was like a checkpoint in her life, and she carried every one of them with fond familiarity.

Then her gaze caught.

She stopped entirely.

The photo looked well cared for than the rest, like it was barely dulled by time. It was Vi and Caitlyn, standing side by side in their college graduation gowns, frozen in a moment that felt like it just had happened recently. Caitlyn’s arms were wrapped tightly around Vi’s shoulders, her cheek pressed close to Vi's, both their smiles wide and unguarded. Vi remembered holding the camera up herself, remembered the giddy laughter just before the shutter clicked.

Her breath hitched.

Vi reached out without thinking, her fingers hovering before lightly brushing the cool glass. Her eyes darted to the small note on the corner of the picture, "We made it! Onto our next adventure!". This wall had always been about family—about roots, about where she came from. And there Caitlyn was, among the pictures, among her family. Not temporary. Not separate.

She's part of my life now. Caitlyn is my family now.

The realization tightened around her heart. Vi swallowed hard and blinked fast, chasing away the sting behind her eyes before it could spill over. She let her hand fall and forced herself to keep moving, one step at a time, down the stairs.

The living room greeted her in a soft amber glow, lamps turned low, the house settling into night. Her mother sat alone on the couch, glasses perched on her nose, a book open and resting in her hands.

“Leaving already?” Mama asked, looking up from the pages.

“Yeah, sorry I can’t stay longer, I just— I need to make things right.” Vi exhaled, the words heavier now that she’d said them aloud.

Mama didn’t hesitate. “Go, Violet, don’t keep her waiting too long.” She hummed softly, smiling in that knowing, supportive way only a mother could.

Vi nodded. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her, holding the hug a second longer than usual, drawing strength from it for the moments to come. Then she pulled away, grabbed the gift bags waiting by the door, and stepped outside, carrying both her resolve and her heart with her into the night. 

☃︎

She picked up the last few things she needed—nothing fancy, or expensive, just the final pieces that would make the gift feel whole—before pushing open the door of an empty 24/7 café. The place was hushed in that late-night way, where the world felt like it decided to slow down just a bit and only the soft hum of coffee making and distant clinking of cups remained. Vi claimed a small table tucked into a corner, a single chair pulled close, and set herself to work.

The table looked like a creative battlefield not long after. Note papers overlapped in uneven stacks, some carefully written, others crumpled and abandoned beside her elbow. Stickers spilled from torn plastic wrappers like confetti. Vi picked through them until she found pieces she'd like to add for colorful effect or just to be a little silly. She pressed them onto the page of the journal, smoothing it down with her thumb as if sealing something important in place.

She reached for another blank note and paused, pen hovering on the page. This part always took the most out of her. She wasn’t just writing words—she was giving pieces of herself. Every sentence carried the weight of what Caitlyn meant to her. The years they shared together, shared mornings and late nights, arguments and apologies—they’d already proven their love countless times. And still, Vi needed Caitlyn to know it again. To feel it again. To show it to her again.

She wanted this to be a reminder. That no matter how rough things got and could get, no matter how far apart they stood, Vi would always find her way back to Caitlyn. Always.

She scribbled, crossed things out, doodled in the margins, then wrote more—moments layered over moments. The good ones that made her grin, the bad ones that stung, the quiet, ordinary days that somehow mattered just as much. Page after page, she poured everything into the journal, emptying her soul so there’d be no doubt left behind.

When she smoothened the final piece into place, Vi leaned back and nodded to herself. For now, it was finished.

Her eyes drifted to the café clock. She let out a long sigh. Oh boy.

3:47 AM.

“Damn.” she muttered.

Nearly four and a half hours had slipped by without her noticing. Vi shook her head, half impressed, half amused, and mentally gave herself a pat on the back. She cleaned up the mess, gathered the papers and dumped it in the bin, and tucked the journal carefully into the gift bag.

Before leaving, she gave a large tip and thanked the staff for letting her stay for so long. But just as she reached the door, she turned back, bought herself a coffee and the best cupcakes they had, and slid the payment across the counter—a small, sincere thank you for the quiet space that let her put her heart together, page by page. 

Now, it was time.

Vi strode with the weight of it settling into her chest, solid and unavoidable. She was about to face the woman she hurt—the woman she loved. Just thinking her name made her heart kick against her ribs, like it was trying to escape out of her chest before she could lose her nerve.

It was strange how Caitlyn could still have this effect on her. Years together, shared routines, shared space, shared lives—and still, the thought of seeing her made Vi feel like this. Nervous. Breathless. Alive. The feeling didn’t scare her. If anything, it reminded her why she was here in the first place.

Her mind ran in frantic circles, replaying apology after apology. Some sounded too stiff, others too dramatic, a few downright cringy to the core. She shortened them down one by one, stripping away the theatrics. Caitlyn didn’t need a performance. She just needed honesty. Vi tightened her grip on the gift bag, like it's contents would speak where her words might fail.

This wasn’t just an apology. It was a reaching hand, an attempt to close the rift that had gaped wide between them. A cruel thought of Caitlyn turning her away made Vi’s stomach twist. If Cait wasn’t ready to listen, if the door stayed closed, Vi knew it would wreck her.

She shook that thought off. This was Caitlyn.

Sweet, kind, beautiful, compassionate Caitlyn.

The fear lingered anyway—that her love, even laid bare like this, might not be enough to undo the damage. Still, one truth anchored her, steady and immovable. She’d said it before. She’ll said it again and again.

I’m not going anywhere but to you.

Vi inhaled, grounding herself in that promise. No pride, no excuses—just her, standing there with her heart ready in her hands. If it took swallowing every ounce of stubbornness she had, she’d do it.

On her knees and everything.

She was going to make this right.

☃︎

The sky stretched above Vi like a blackened ocean. The moon offered no comfort tonight, leaving the world reduced to the outlines of shadows. Trees and buildings only revealed themselves when she drew close, their shapes creeping out of the dark. The only color that cut through the gloom was the white of snowflakes drifting steadily down and the dull orange-white glow of lampposts half-buried beneath rising snow. The said snow had piled so high it swallowed the path she usually took toward their apartment, forcing her to stop short and reroute. There was no arguing with it—she forced herself to take the long, darker way around.

For a season meant to be bright and cheerful, the night felt like a thriller movie. The streets were empty, the bright and colorful lights were now dulled from the cold, and the air was thick by the howl of the wind. It clawed through her clothes, raising goosebumps along her arms and making her shoulders rise in protection. Vi muttered curses under her breath as she zipped her coat all the way up and tugged her hood over her head, bracing herself before pushing forward again.

Ahead, a narrow stretch of dirt pavement emerged, barely visible beneath the snow. One lonely lamppost stood on the side of it, its weak light just enough to guide her steps. Vi followed it, boots crunching as she trudged on, each step sinking deeper than the last.

She picked up her pace. The snowfall was getting heavier, thicker, swallowing sound and distance. This had to be the storm that weather forecaster warned about last week. Of course she’d forgotten the date—she always would.

Her breath puffed out in short clouds as she pressed on, a dry, humorless thought settling in her chest.

It just had to be today.

With the snow coming down thicker and heavier by the minute, Vi figured it would take a while to get home. She slowed her pace, breath fogging the air, and fished her phone out of her pocket to text her. Her thumb hovered over Caitlyn’s name—

Crunch.

The sound came from behind her, sharp and fast, boots stomping into snow with purpose. Vi barely had time to turn before something slammed into her side.

A loud, hoarse sound tore out of her throat.

Pain bloomed instantly—cold, metallic, sharp. Her body seized as her mind scrambled to catch up. Before she could even draw a full breath, it happened again. The sensation ripped out of her and plunged back in, stealing the air from her lungs, turning the world darker at the edges of her vision.

Instinct took over.

Vi swung hard, her fist connecting with something solid. The figure stumbled down in the snow. She didn’t wait to see the face. She didn’t pause to think. She lunged forward, raising her leg to stomp the assaulter into the ground, for jumping he hell outta her.

But the figure was faster than she expected.

The assaulter rolled, hands snapping out like jaws, and yanked her ankle with brute force. Vi hit the snow with a breathless groan, the impact knocking what little air she had left clean out of her. Somewhere in the chaos, the weight of the gift bags slipped away, disappearing into the dark.

Pain pulsed through her as she rolled onto her good side, panic coursing in her movements. She clawed at the snow, fingers numb as she searched blindly, trying to find them—where are they—where—

Her hand brushed something solid.

Relief flickered for half a second.

Then a boot came down hard on her outstretched hand.

Vi cried out, raw and strangled, as pain shot up her arm, the snow beneath her suddenly feeling less like cold ice and more like a cage snapping in.

The man wasted no time. He yanked the bag from beneath her fingers and dug through it with frantic, jerky movements, snow flaking off his sleeves as he searched. Plastic crinkled. Paper tore.

Vi forced her body to move.

With a grunt that scraped her throat, she pulls her hand away from the boot and latched her hand onto an ankle and yanked back with everything she had left. The assaulters' balance broke, and he crashed down to one knee in the snow. The impact sent a jolt through her arms, but she didn’t let go. She grabbed a fistful of the person's winter jacket and heaves closer, her knuckles burning, teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

Then pain exploded across her face.

A boot connected with to cheek, packed with snow and weight, snapping her head to the side. Stars burst behind her eyes as she cried out and let him go. The assaulter staggered up, swearing, something clenched in gloved hands.

It took a while for her focus to come back for her to recognize it.

Her wallet.

The one Caitlyn had given her, the sight of it in the hands of that asshat made something burn in her chest more than the kick had. The asshat flipped it open, rifled through it, and let out an irritated scoff.

“Damn! She’s broke!”

He threw it aside like trash, the weathered shape disappearing into the sea of white, and then he ran—boots crunching, fading fast into the storm until he was swallowed by the night.

The howls of the wind rushed in after him, loud and unforgiving.

Vi lay there for a few moments, staring up at the sky, forcing herself to breathe again. The wind howled over her, stealing what little warmth she had left. Slowly, she turned her head and took sight of her condition.

The gift bags were scattered around her like debris after a storm, some already half-buried as the snow piled up relentlessly, as if it was trying to erase them.

She drew in a breath—

—and hissed.

Agony tore through her torso, sharp and paralyzing, like fire spreading in gasoline. Her body curled in on itself as her gaze dropped shakily to her stomach.

There, jutting out from her coat, was a small pocket-sized switchblade.

Pierced deep in her abdomen.

Oh… shit.

The thought came hollow and distant as Vi stared at the knife lodged in her, the handle jutting out at an impossible angle, like her body was refusing to believe it belonged there. Her breath hitched, shallow and shuddering, and when she tried to inhale properly, a raw groan tore from her chest instead.

Don’t panic. Don’t—

Her mind betrayed her instantly, flashing one face, one name, over and over. Caitlyn.

Vi’s hands fumbled through the snow in a blind, desperate scramble, fingers numb and clumsy as they dug into piles of ice. Pain flared every time she shifted, but she kept searching until—there. Her phone. Half-buried, screen frosted over. She dragged it free and nearly dropped it before managing to wake it with trembling thumbs.

The lock screen lit up.

Her breath caught.

It was her and Caitlyn, pressed cheek to cheek, noses brushing, both of them smiling like the world had never known cruelty. Caitlyn’s arms were looped around Vi’s shoulders, her grin wide and unguarded, eyes sparkling and smile bright with that unfiltered giddiness Vi could never get enough of.

Heat rushed to Vi’s already flushed cheeks and ears, sharp and sudden, as tears stung her eyes. She stared at the photo longer than she should have, long enough to forget the cold biting into her skin, long enough to forget the blade deep in her abdomen. Her breaths came short and wheezy, fogging the screen as her muscles slowly went numb.

Caitlyn’s smile—gods, that smile.

She’d always been insecure about the small gap between her teeth, always worrying that it made her look awkward despite her perfect features. She used to hold back her laughter, soften her expressions, swallow her words halfway out of fear someone might notice. Vi had hated that. Hated the way Caitlyn tried to make herself smaller. To restrict herself from pure happiness.

So Vi had made it her mission, constant, relentless, to show her the truth. That the gap was part of her charm. That it made her smile hers. That it completed her.

Caitlyn had believed her.

She never stopped smiling toothily after that.

And Vi never stopped finding reasons to make her smile like that.

But—oh.

The last image burned into Vi’s memory wasn’t about her smiling. It was Caitlyn with her jaw tight, brows drawn low, hurt etched deep into her face as she turned away.

A frown instead of a smile.

The thought stung deeper than the blade ever could.

Vi’s throat tightened as something cold and heavy settled in her chest.

She might never see that smile again. 

Vi huffed, her breath catching in the frigid air as her fingers, stiff and trembling, fumbled across her phone screen. Each swipe ironically felt like dragging through ice, but she forced herself, searching, until the name glowed back at her: “My Cupcake💙” Her thumb hovered for a heartbeat before pressing the call button, sending a quiet prayer along with it.

The ringtone echoed against the snow and darkness, each ring dragging painfully into her chest. Her teeth chattered, not just from the cold but from the raw, searing ache radiating from the knife lodged in her torso. Blood seeped out of her slowly, warmth escaping into the snow, but she didn’t care.

She needed to hear it. Her voice, just one more time—

If I go, please… let me hear her. Let me...

The ringing stopped abruptly, replaced by the familiar, tone of voicemail. “I apologize that I did not pick up, but please do leave a message for me to listen to your relay.”

Vi exhaled a huffing laugh, brittle and harsh, as a sharp, paralyzing sting ripped through her body from the wound. She clenched her teeth against it, gripping the phone like a lifeline.

Always so formal… even when she doesn’t need to be.

And yet—Vi missed it. Missed the cadence, the strong accent she hadn’t heard in a while. Even the memory of it brought a warmth she hadn’t felt since Caitlyn’s last smile, a fleeting comfort against the cold and the pain. Her chest tightened, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that voice she craved, like the sun shining through in the endless night.

Vi groaned, her voice barely more than a rasp against the cold night air, spilling out the things she needed to say. Words tumbled from her lips in a frantic, stuttering rush—how she could’ve done better, how she should’ve understood Caitlyn, how she failed to control her anger when stress and frustration had clouded both their minds. Each confession was a dagger, cutting through the chill of the night and the ache in her chest.

She acknowledged the fault wasn’t hers alone. They both had stumbled, both had hurt each other, but she would own her part. She trusted Caitlyn enough to believe she would do the same, that she would own up to her faults like Vi would have. But Vi knew, with a sinking certainty, she wouldn’t live to hear that.

The thought struck to her like the knife still lodged in her gut, twisting in her stomach and setting tears spilling down her cheeks. “I love—” she rasped, but the message sent itself before she could finish, cut off by the merciless voicemail limit.

Her breath hitched, ragged and uneven, as she stared at Caitlyn’s contact photo icon. In it, Caitlyn was leaning on her elbow, chin in her palm, gazing lovingly across the table into the camera. She forced the image to be burned into Vi’s mind. Caitlyn's perfect, soft smile Vi would never see again tonight.

Vi’s chest heaved, and her throat felt like sandpaper, dry and aching. She coughed and wheezed, clutching herself as a wave of pain shot from her abdomen, sharp and relentless, forcing a groan from her lips.

Even then, she didn’t look away. She held her gaze on Caitlyn’s photo as long as she could, imprinting it into memory, until her phone buzzed: low battery. The screen went black, leaving only the blinking red icon and Vi’s bruised, pale reflection staring back at her. 

Her fingers lay lax against the snow, numb and stiff, their color bled into a pale and bluish hue. She tried to curl them—no good. Even the smallest twitch took more effort than she could spare, as if her body no longer recognized her struggle.

A broken grunt tore from her throat as she forced her hand down toward the knife buried in her torso. The cold metal bit into her palm, and the pain that followed was immediate and blinding. Fresh tears welled despite her stubborn resistance, spilling hot against skin that could barely feel them.

I'm so sorry… I'm sorry I have to leave you again, Cait.

The apology echoed in her head, heavier than the snow piling around her. Vi dragged in short, shallow breaths, each one a conscious battle. She curled inward, shoulders tucking in as if she could fold herself small enough to keep what little warmth she had left. The wind howled louder in her ears, the cold clawing and biting at her clothes, her bones, her dwindling resolve.

Her strength ebbed quietly, like a tide pulling away from shore. Her eyelids grew heavy, fluttering despite her efforts to keep them open. The world blurred at the edges, lights smearing into soft halos before breaking into drifting stars that danced across her vision.

Another suck of air, painful and stinging. The darkness crept in slowly this time, merciless but gentle, swallowing the snow, the pain, the cold. The beating of her heart slowed. Caitlyn flashed in her minds eye, cupping Vi's cheek expression soft and unguarded. Vi reached out, but was met with white snow.

Darker.

And darker.

Until there was nothing left to see at all.