Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Why did they spell my name like that?” Harrow peered at the black marker scrawled across her coffee cup. HAROH. “That’s not even close.”

“At least you didn’t give em’ your last name. We’d have been here all morning Nonagesiums. ” Gideon mumbled sleepily from beside her, adding what must’ve been her 18th packet of sugar to her already cream-dominant cup.

“You said it wrong at the counter.” Harrow wrinkled her nose in thought as they exited back into the dark grey morning outside. She shivered in her thick jacket and bee-lined for her side of the beat-down Dodge Dart.

“I what?” Said Gideon, half-paying attention as she slid into the driver side door, settling in and turning the key to start the heater.

“It’s pronounced Harrow… like arrow.” She said, holding the black coffee tight against her chest to fend off the remnants of cold as she slid on her seatbelt.

“Not Har-O?” Gideon looked at her with an air of disbelief.

“No. Not like Har-O.” She said dryly, sipping the beverage with her almost name on the side.

“Damn seriously? I’ve been saying it wrong for literal years.” She looked ahead with a weird acceptance and picked up her phone to click through playlists til she found whatever she’d been looking for, then cranking the volume knob up to temple-throbbing levels. Already, Harrow regretted this arrangement, and it was their first day.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me Griddle.” I’m sure you’ve been doing many things wrong for years. She kept that one to herself.

“Griddle? Seriously that nickname from like recess in 1st grade?” She sorta laughed sorta scoffed. Either way the sound was annoying. “Gideon works just fine.”

“As does silence.” She said, staring out the window and taking another sip. She heard her sigh something dismissive and slide the stick into reverse.

“Whatever Har-O.” She said, shifting back and pulling out of the lil shop at the edge of their small town. The only place open in Drearburh at 5am on a Monday, ready to service their coffee needs. She merged them onto the highway and nodded along to the song.

I runaway with you- way with you. Everything you want to say to me- say to me.

In the car they didn’t talk much, which Harrow greatly preferred. But it couldn’t be called silence either. The music for one, deafening. Every now and then a certain song would come on that would make Gideon go ‘Alllrighhhttt.’ And crank it several notches louder to blaring. She’d sing along random lines, not full ones, then turn it back down only with Harrow’s insistence, and typically a shake of her head and a ‘don’t be such a buzzkill.’ At the end of it.

On top of that she’d gotten a bagel sandwich at the coffee shop and was eating it like a grazing buffalo for about 20 minutes of their 90 minute commute. Why she insisted on rewrapping it in its crinkle paper just to unwrap it again a few minutes later Harrow could only explain as the behavior of a sociopath.

There was the random tapping and fidgeting she’d do in the car, either on the window, the dashboard, the steering wheel, or her own arm.

Harrow had never spent this much time alone with her. But her conclusion she’d already drawn was one-dimensional.

She did her best to flip through her textbook and ignore her. But it turned out to be a feat and a challenge all its own to ignore the incessant drone of activity coming from the other side of the car.

“Hey.” Called the red-head, lowering the volume a smidge. “What time is your first class?”

“7:15 in Sameal Hall.” She said shortly. She had no interest in small talk.

Gideon hmm’ed in thought.

“Last class?” She asked.

“Ends at 4:30.” She answered. “Loveday Lab.”

She hmm’ed again.

“Those both on the south side of campus?”

“No the labs are at the secondary campus.” She said, not looking up. “And Samael is on the north side. Did you even look at the map?” Something told her no.

“I looked I looked.” Gideon said, insistent. “But I looked at my buildings. Didn’t know yours.”

Harrow had looked up the entire layout a year ago and committed it to memory.

“Wait, secondary campus… that’s no good.” Gideon continued. “The hell am I supposed to pick you up from?”

“I’ll take the shuttle back before your last class is over.”

“My last class is over at 3:50 on MWF.” Gideon said. “6 o’ clock on Tuesday, Thursday. Wouldn’t it just make more sense for me to come get you?”

“Do you know where it is?” Harrow asked as if talking to a child, already knowing the answer was no.

“If you’ll tell me I will.” She responded matching her tone, not to be talked down to.

“You’ll get lost and it will take us even longer to get home. Just wait for me.”

“Or just tell me where it is-“

“Are we still having this conversation?” Harrow asked, finally shutting her textbook in mildly concealed frustration.

“Hard to call it a conversation when you’re talking to a brick wall.” Gideon said rolling her eyes, and turning the volume up louder before clicking through her songs and picking the same song she’d played when they got on the highway.

This seemed to be the end to the chat, but Harrow frowned anyway. She couldn’t help it.

“You already heard this song.” She said dismissively.

“That was an hour ago.” Gideon responded, looking ahead as if deep in thought, though she doubted she was capable of such. “I want to hear it again.”

And she turned the knob up louder.

It had been a long day. She was surprised how tired she was. Not terribly, but more of a dip than she’d expected to feel. No syllabus day for labs. These were advanced classes meant to hit the ground running. And they had.

The shuttle creaked to a stop and she hauled herself off the crowded seats, stepping off the bus to see the beat up Dodge Dart parked in the nearby lot. Beat up was a generous term for the black peeling paint with a red mismatched door and the various dents and dings.

In a small way she respected her waiting at the shuttle for her as instructed, instead of bullheadedly scouring the city trying to find the other campus. That would have annoyed her to no end, seeing her appear with the ‘I told you so’ look in her eyes.

Gideon was reclined in the drivers seat as she opened the passenger side. Her window down, legs propped up on the dash, and tapping along to something playing in her head. Gideon nodded as way of greeting. Harrow did not, her energy for people depleted from the day.

This was all temporary , she told herself. She’d been working her ass off for a long time, and if she didn’t have to physically be in labs she would have already had her Bachelors and been pursuing higher studies at Canaan House. But this one semester wouldn’t change anything.

Gideon started the car and the music kicked on at full blast, same song as earlier.

Well, as long as she wasn’t convicted of murder before her acceptance. She glared at her driver.

“You uh, got any requests?” She asked, arm outstretched with phone in hand.

She was offering an olive branch. Letting her pick a song was supposed to appease her. But Harrow had no use for such. She merely shook her head.

“Come on, think of one. You clearly haven’t cared for any of my tunes. Try one of yours.” She said. Still sounding surprisingly upbeat at the end of a long day that started around quarter to 5.

“It’s not you specifically, I just don’t care much for music.” Harrow said, turning to stare out the window. Thinking she’d spared her feeling and ended this. Instead she was met with a-

“ What?! ” Gideon exclaimed, and Harrow turned back at the urgency in her voice thinking their car was suddenly on fire, or some such insanity to earn that kind of response. But no, she was looking at her, sunglasses torn off to stare in disbelief.

“You don’t like music ??” She asked, that same tone of ridiculousness as if she’d just told her the sky was actually vermillion and birds lived underwater. “Like, any music??”

Harrow simply shook her head, now starting to feel embarrassed or irritated. Somewhere in between. It was a perfectly logical answer. No reason to be treating her like an asylum patient.

“No, nor do I like repeating myself Griddle.” She retreated to looking back out the window, but that didn’t seem to be enough.

“Ok no no, you can’t just brush this off! Music is like... it’s like life! And there’s so many genres, how can nothing appeal to you?”

“You asked for an answer,” more like demanded. “and I gave you one. Leave it at that.” She felt her jaw tighten as she bit down on her harsher responses.

There was silence while Gideon sighed some internal dilemma and then finally shifted into reverse, backing the car out and heading slowly through the end of day traffic.

“I’m not going to laugh ya know?” She broke the blissful few seconds of silence, and Harrow groaned internally. This conversation had no end point or sense. “Like if you told me you were into Sicilian Folk Choir, I’d dig it. Or at least pretend to nod along.” Gideon said with that same little smile she did that had a combination of confidence and condescension that Harrow was getting sick of after less than 12 hours.

“That’s not the point. Just drop it.” She said, happy to look out the window, though briefly wondering if there was such a thing as Sicilian Folk Choir.

That same sigh, long and exaggerated. (There was no way there could be someone that disappointed over something like music.)

“No dice squirrel man.” Said Gideon with a theatrical voice. Harrow turned back, eyes squinting as she watched her pause at the stop sign to pull out her phone and tap the screen with enthusiasm and mischief.

“Squirrel man?” She said dryly. Deciding that was the thing amongst all of that that deigned a response.

“Listen you have to like music, we’re not letting you go through life like this.” She said convinced as she plugged in something on her screen. “Honestly not sure how you went this long without it. But lucky for you, you have me. And we’re gonna fix you.”

“Fix me?” She said, squinting daggers that seemed to be deflected by Gideon’s own misplaced focus.

“Yes psycho. Fix. And I’m the perfect person for the job. I have quite refined tastes. I’m sure to find something you’ll like.” She punched in something final into the screen and looked satisfied, finally turning right out of the campus lot.

“Nav I have little to no interest in your abilities, or attempts to fix me.” Harrow said dismissively.

“Well tough shit. We’re gonna give it the ole’ college try.” She said ironically. “And we’re going to start with Sicilian Folk Choir.”

She smiled that same mischievous half lip and something started over the speakers that was… indeed… what she imagined Sicilian Folk Choir had to sound like. A man with a static mic singing in Italian with a chorus following him.

There was truly zero appeal to this song. But, appeal or not, it blared over the speakers. In words she couldn’t understand to a beat she couldn’t care for.

She looked in the cupholder and saw the screen lit up on the cracked display of the phone. The song, Zappaturi. The album had some kind of yellow and red depiction of a farm. And the playlist… The playlist was named ‘It’s Pronounced Harrow.’

“You can’t be serious.” Harrow said, darting her eyes from the phone to Gideon. She smirked in the fraction of her eyes she saw from behind her glasses.

“Gotta start somewhere.” She said with a toothy grin and sang along as the chorus kicked in, a thick, fake Italian accent on her lips.

“You don’t speak Italian.” Harrow said glaring.

“But I can sound like I do. Just imagine I’m part of the chorus.” She smiled slyly, enjoying this too much.

“Do you even know what youre singing?”

She grinned.

“I know the title.”

Harrow waited to see if she was going to tell her, and when it became apparent she was waiting for her to ask she sighed. Her annoyance outweighed by curiosity.

“What is it?” She asked flatly.

“Look it up.” Gideon said with a smirk. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She clarified, sensing Harrow’s eyebrows about to shoot off her face.

Harrow rolled her eyes, and turned to her textbook as if ending the game. But she discreetly pulled her phone out of her pocket, made sure she wouldn’t be able to see her fingers type, and put zappaturi into google translate. As the screen spun it loaded the Italian counterpart and…

It meant hoes.

Zappaturri meant hoes in Italian.

“ Dammit Nav .”

Gideon laughed.

Chapter Text

Gideon grinned as she grabbed her icy concoction of every flavor from the slush machine. Today that consisted of Banana, Cola, Blue Raspberry, and Orange. It made a blend of frightfully dark purples and other indistinct colors that she sloshed her straw through.

Then she slurped a long, hard, audible sip through the bright ass straw from the bright ass cup until she felt that sting at the back of her throat. That sting was like every ounce of liquid in her body being frozen over. Like a blizzard in a desert. It hurt. It hurt like a smile at the end of an apology. Like a groin punch but higher up. She grimaced with her tight grin and closed her eyes letting the sensation of frozen shards obliterate the back of her throat... and then feeling it slowly thaw.

“Why do you always do that?” Harrow asked from beside her with her plain cup of warm water (not hot, never hot) and slice of lemon with the seeds plucked out. She rolled the seeds between her fingers as they walked out of the store. Her very own organic fidget cube.

“I like it.” Gideon said with her smile, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. “Makes me feel...” Her sentence drifted off much to Harrow’s annoyance.

“Feel what?” Harrow asked, her face scrunched up as if she smelled something rank.

“Just... feel.” Gideon said, frozen feeling completely gone and only left with sugar crystals on her tongue. She saw Harrow roll her eyes, knowing she was making herself a further enigma to the emo emissary. But whatevs. This was their new routine, and it was… working? Sorta.

They’d leave butt-fuck early while it was still dark, get a coffee (Harrow drank black coffee, gross) drive their hour and a half to campus, go their separate ways, not think about each other again until end of day when they’d meet up again, and drive back. After a pitstop. Gideon had insisted on car snacks, and her ole’ gal needed some fuel every other day. These were a lot of miles to be putting on Zweihander, but worth it for a real chance at something normal.

Gideon unlocked the car and slid into her valiant steed, tapping the red door for luck. It had been a good day. Light traffic in the morning, that one professor hadn’t drawled on like he liked to, and Harrow had only said like 3 nasty things aimed her way.

The one thing they had yet to make progress on was… wah-wah each other.

Harrow seemed content with contempt, but Gideon thought there was something to be gained from a little bit more than toleration.

“What should we try today for tunes?” She asked, sliding her shades over here eyes and flicking her phone open with mild hope. They’d hit no synchronism when it came to music. Harrow’s playlist still sat with only the one forced folk song, which had been arguably hysterical.

“We’re still on that?” Harrow asked, looking at her notebook and taking a sip of her warm beverage.

“Country was a mess,” Gideon continued as if she was on board. “Which I saw coming. Lo-Fi I believe you called a collection of ringtones. I still think you actually liked Grunge but pretended not to out of spite. Look at you for crying out loud, you’re the product of grunge. You are their target audience.”

She gestured her arm to indicate the black wardrobe that covered her head to toe along with her dark makeup that jutted out against her pale ass complexion. No response from Harrow’s side of the car usually meant she was too tired for her bullshit. But Gideon wasn’t one to take a hint.

“Icelandic Pop maybe? Or Downbeat House?” She took another swig of her Icee and smiled at that same sharp pain of the brain freeze. And then an idea hit her. “I’ve got it! Show tunes.”

She flipped through her playlists to the Heather’s musical, thought briefly that Harrow looked like Winona Ryder, then banished that thought to the depths of hell out of respect to Winona.

Harrow turned her way with pointed annoyance.

“Do tell, which part of my aesthetic gave you show tunes?” She said blankly.

“Well in reality I want to hear this song, but it’s the perfect closeted weirdo troupe to be into show tunes. Belt out to your hearts content when mommy and daddy are out of the room and you think you’re alone.”

“Griddle...” Her tone took on a warning. Not a new thing, but one that felt like it had a little more behind it. Mom and dad, not a great topic.

“Here, this is the best part.” Gideon interrupted, blaring the volume once more as the chorus kicked in.

“Freeze your brainnnnnnnnn,

Suck on that straw get lost in the pain ,

Happiness comes when everything numbs,

Who needs Cocaine?

Just freeze your brainnnnn.”

And sensing her utter lack of enjoyment for it Gideon finally shifted into reverse and began their drive home. Soundtracks played all the way. Some Les Mis. Some Phantom. Even a few ‘Jellicle Cats.’

The conclusion was, not a show tunes girl. Or... very good at hiding it.

College was as Gideon had expected. A lot of boring, hard work. But things she could handle. And Aiglamene had been on her ass long enough for her to take it seriously. She was getting her bachelors in Physical Therapy. After her accident she’d spent a lot of time there putting herself back together. Pursing it seemed beneficial. Big time.

Most of the people in her classes were a lot younger. She was a bit late to the game in reality. 21 and in gen ed’s. But fuck convention. It had never served her before.

There were these two kids who sat across from her in her daily lecture and she’d hear them whispering all the time. They must’ve been barely 18. She remembered that age. Scrappy. Hormonal. Not nearly as attractive as she was now. But they seemed nice enough. Whenever they made eye contact, even if she was wearing her shades inside, they’d exchange a nod, though they’d look hella nervous. One time she was looking for a pen at the start or class and the girl cleared her throat and offered her one. After that she’d decided they were cool.

So that morning when one of the punks in the front row tripped the boy as he was going up the stairs she honed in on the target. There was the TWHACK of his knee hitting the ground, followed by the girl yelling out.

“Hey watch what the hell you’re doing huh?” The girl turned with her chest puffed out, even though she was 100 pounds soaking wet.

The attacker turned to say something smart when he saw Gideon have appeared there in the aisle, and then he wasn’t saying much of anything.

“Apologize.” Gideon said plainly, arms crossed over her chest.

“Wh-what?” The boy said, sweat beating as she leaned in closer.

“Apologize.” She said, stern this time. Backed with warning. And he was no fool. He sensed the predator, and that he was lesser prey.

“S-sorry man. Geez.” He turned away as if that would spare his dignity. “Was an accident.”

“Then it shouldn’t happen again.” Gideon said and patted him on the shoulder. He tensed terribly which she found incredibly entertaining.

When she turned back to the two kids their eyes were glowing with stars like they’d seen a shooting star.

Ah shit. She thought.

“Take your seats. Class is about to start.” Called the TA. Her grey eyes honed toward the commotion and Gideon took her cue.

“You good?” She asked, shimmying past the two teens. The boy merely nodded, and then as she took her seat she found they were standing like little lost ducks at the edge of her row. She sighed internally knowing what she’d just done. Then scooted in to make room.

On the drive home they were dead quiet, yet again. She was always annoyed at the quiet. Like Harrow found sharing words or air to be a squander of her potential. She’d try every now and then, but usually found it to be like a trained chicken jumping through hoops. Today was one of the days she’d decided to try.

“How’re classes going?” She said, immediately hearing how lame it sounded.

“You don’t care.” Harrow said with her head leaned back into the seat, throughly exhausted. Gideon frowned.

“I mean, yeah no shit. I’m not hanging off the answer like it’s life or death, but I care enough to ask and to talk about it for the next ten minutes or so.” Gideon said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She always had to make it difficult to get close. Like at all.

Harrow turned her eyes to her with a squint.

“You wouldn’t comprehend what I tell you.”

“Ouch, ok. So you’re a terrible conversationalist.”

“Do you know the first thing about organic chemistry?” She said irked, clearly trying to put a wrap on this. But she didn’t know the depths to which Gideon’s stubbornness would go.

“Do you want to listen to Lizzo again?” She fired back. “Or do you want to give this talking thing a try?”

“What would we talk about? We have nothing in common.” Harrow said turning her spite fully toward her now.

“We don’t have to! We can just talk. Like if I say ‘how’s class?’ You can try ‘good’ or ‘bad’ instead of ‘your intelligence is far beneath me oh worm’ like normal people, weirdo!” She said, voice raising a bit as she pressed her point home.

“I didn’t say that.” Harrow insisted, scowling in that way that turned up her bottom lip.

“No joke, it’s what you sound like.” Gideon nodded insistently.

“This discussion is over.” She turned back out the window, and Gideon felt like pulling the steering wheel into a ditch. Lucky for this broad there weren’t any on the stretch of highway.

“In no way does this count as a discussion.”

“Griddle-“

“Just ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ pick one. I say, ‘How was class?’ And you say-“

“Bad! Now will you leave it?!” Harrow cried out, with more emotion than Gideon had heard from her in all their sorta talks. Which was still a minuscule amount, but something.

“Why was it bad?” Gideon asked quieter. She half expected a textbook to hit her in the side of the head. But instead she heard a deep inhale as Harrow shifted in the seat, readjusting and crossing her legs.

“The professor… has this question they posed to the class.” She somehow laced sighs into every sentence like the entire world was a let down. But in a way, she was bang on. It kinda was. “It’s an instant letter grade on the midterm of whoever manages to solve it.” She was silent for a moment, crossing her arms and worrying her lip between her teeth.

Ah, so something had alluded her steel trap mind.

“Do you need the letter grade? You always got A’s anyway.” Gideon thought out loud back to the high school years of sitting rows behind her in class and seeing all the teachers swoon at her academia.

“It’s not about the letter grade.” She scowled. “It’s about making a good impression.”

Gideon chuckled.

“You’re such bullshit. It’s about being the best, isn’t it?” She turned to throw her eyebrows at Harrow who looked annoyed. But- caught.

“So what’s this unsolvable problem?” Gideon asked, slightly intrigued.

“Nav drop it.”

“What, just tell me?” Gideon felt like she was shoving her foot in the door. “I’m not as dumb as I look ya know?” Harrow sucked in her cheeks in thought, before exhaling a long breath.

“There are three doors.” She started, as if reciting something well memorized and loathed. “Behind two of them are goats, behind one of them is a car.”

“Wait...” Gideon cut her off. “Are you talking about the Monty Hall Riddle?”

“Yes...” she said, eyes turning wide in uncovered surprise. Still tinted with distrust, but… reconsidering. “Algorithm, but yes. How do you...”

“You’re kidding right?” Gideon was beaming now, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face with the knowledge that she knew something Harrow didn’t. “This is the one where you pick a door, they show you one of the other doors with a goat so now theres one goat and one car left. Should you change your pick right?”

Harrow blinked, even her blinks were usually so hateful, but this time purely assessing.

“Yes. Statistically it shouldn’t matter. It’s a 50/50.”

“But it’s not.” Gideon’s smug little smile grew and she was tempted to draw this out. But she saw the way Harrow was peering at her and couldn’t resist. She also knew, she wasn’t the type of person to enjoy having it handed to her. “Do you know who Monty Hall is?”

Those beady black eyes furrowed in thought.

“No.” She admitted, and that was like winning a gold medal in itself.

“He was a game show host in like the 60’s.” Gideon laughed, changing lanes to get around traffic. “None of you eggheads knew that?” That was more rhetoric. “Should try getting out of a book sometime.”

“The problem is based off a gameshow?” Harrow raised her eyebrow, inklings of discern coming back into play.

“Yes. Big time. This was what he would do on his show. Not with goats, that’d be crazy to just give out goats, but theres three doors and one good prize. You pick yours, then they reveal one bad one and give you the chance to swap.”

“And you know 60’s gameshows because...”

“What do you think Aiglamene watches all day?” She shrugged. “And they’re fun, so you can shove that tone Nonagesimus.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“The riddle-“

“Algorithm-“ She interjected, which Gideon waved off.

“Riddle, is should you keep your door after you are shown the goat or should you switch?”

“There’s not a better option.” Harrow said dismissively.

“But there is.” Gideon grinned again.

“How?”

“Because of Monty.”

Then Harrow paused. Looked deeper at Gideon, and her eyes sparked in a way she’d never seen.

“Monty knows.” Harrow said, understanding rolling over her.

“Monty knows.” Gideon agreed.

“So... he picks a door that doesn’t have the car...”

“Increasing your chances.” Gideon summarized. She’d seen enough episodes to know you always switch it. It had better odds. She didn’t know why necessarily, but she knew it was true. And she could see why the big brained brats wouldn’t think of it. They’d overlooked the human element.

Harrow flipped open her notebook and summoned a pen from seemingly the air and scribbled something into the pages.

“So if you keep your door... you had a 1/3 chance of being correct. But because Monty knows which door not to reveal... if you move your guess you have a 2/3 chance...” Harrow leaned back in her seat looking astonished. There was an almost smile on the corners of her lips, and Gideon felt elated. She’d proven herself.

“See, there is something to be gained from talking after all.” She pulled up her phone and scrolled to an appropriate victory song. “And to celebrate-“ she cranked the volume. “Lizzo.”

“I do my hair toss, check my nails, baby how you feeling? Feeling good as hell.”

Gideon sang along loud, rolling the window down and letting the wind whip through her hair. Feeling on top of the world in her beat up little car. She expected another ripping comment, something to try and bring her down, but instead she noticed Harrow continue to stare with that borderline peaceful look out the window.

The next day after class she was sitting in Zweihander, feet propped up on the dash, arm hanging out the window, and smiling to herself. She tapped along to no beat in particular until she was alerted from her daydream to the sound of the door clicking open. There was Harrow, sliding in near silently as per usual. She buckled her belt and leaned back in her seat, but her air was different... dare she say, excited?

“So?” Gideon had to ask as soon as possible, while still coming off cool and you know, uninvested. “How’d it go?”

Harrow was quiet for a moment splaying her fingers across her textbook and flexing them closed with a long exhale.

“I got it right.” She said, unable to hide the smile of pride that followed. Gideon was smiling to.

“Hell yeah Harr.” She said, feeling that pride swell in her too. “Feel free to thank me anytime.” She shifted her legs down and leaned forward, turning the key and readying for the long drive home.

“Thank you Nav.” She said quietly. Still sarcastic, but genuine. And for a moment Gideon was convinced she’d manifested the sound as some kind of auditory hallucination. That was the nicest thing she’d said to her, with no close competition at all. Maybe the nicest thing she’d ever said to anyone. 

And she realized in that moment she had no idea how to accept a compliment from the bone bitch herself. She cleared her throat.

“Well you know, not totally useless.” She said, feeling her face warm.

“But close.” Harrow followed, and thankfully broke Gideon from the shell shock of the preppy kindness. She chuckled.

“Watch it, I’ll kick you out a moving car.” She joked as they rolled out along the pavement. “Alright, to 7/11. Slurpee time.”

The music had kicked on quietly when she started the car and she heard it absently, tapping to the song she’d still had cued up when she heard the craziest thing. Humming.

Humming from the other side of the car.

Harrow’s humming.

Harrow was humming.

Gideon nearly drove into a parked car and turned back, shocked.

“What?” She asked dryly.

“You- you like this song don’t you?” Gideon asked, feeling a second triumph in two days. That was some kind of world record.

“I... never said that.” Harrow deflected.

“But you never not said it either! Can’t fool me Nonagesimus!” She grabbed her phone and added it to the “It’s Pronounced Harrow” playlist so fast she thought she’d crack her screen. 2 songs now. Doubling their previous amount. A massive win.

Gideon cranked the song as it hit the chorus. And Harrow’s expression fell back to her typical blank displeasure.

“If he don’t love you anymoreeeee, Sing it!” She pointed to Harrow who had reverted to Major Sourpuss.

“Don’t push your luck Griddle.”

Chapter Text

“Lunch?” Harrow repeated, turning her head scrupulously to peer at the driver, who looked uncharacteristically unsure. Like a catcher awaiting a pitch in a baseball match… or game? Fuck it, Harrow didn’t know baseball.

“Yeah, do you want to get lunch?” Gideon tried again, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel while she stared ahead on the highway. But again, a slight tension at the end of the question. Not her usual air of ‘fuck you Nonagesimus’ hanging in the echo of her words. “We have about an hour and a half overlap in our schedules on Wednesdays and Fridays. We could meet up in the quad.”

Harrow studied her opponent. Her usual reaction would be locked and loaded refusal. Simple. Straightforward. No. And done with it.

But… it was sliding. She couldn’t seem to form the word. She huffed instead in simple consideration. She eyed Gideon up and down from her seat, looking for ulterior motives in her posture.

“Why?” She said finally. And Gideon scoffed.

“Do I need some complex reason to invite you to break bread with me?” She said in her pretend snooty voice. She used the same voice whenever she was impersonating a professor. Or day time talk show host.

“We’ve never done lunch.”

“Whichhhhh is why I’m inviting you?” Gideon repeated, but shook her head, some of her frustration starting to bubble. “Look if you don’t want to just say-“

“Ok.” Harrow said.

“Oh- ok what?” Gideon stumbled.

“Ok.” Harrow said, with emphasis. “Lunch. Let’s do lunch.”

Gideon cleared her throat and nodded like the ball was safely in the… mitt? Glove? Whatever. Satisfied with the answer, but almost giddy.

“Ok cool. We meet by the far side of the quad in front of the Nigella Fountain. There’s some vending machines and usually some kids flying kites.”

“We?” Harrow asked raising an eyebrow, back on alert mode.

“Yeah… there’s a little group of us… and I… wanted you to meet them.” And again, that image of a person squatting over a… base. Or a plate? What was with the baseball metaphors? But nervousness, like how the red-head had driven in the morning of her first general chemistry test. Was she… nervous for them to meet her? Embarrassed perhaps? She thought with spite rising on her tongue before re-acessing the variables. No, no, she wouldn’t have invited her if she was embarrassed. They’d have gone on being perfect strangers.

“You’re nervous for me to meet them.” Harrow said finally. No point beating around it. “Why?”

And Gideon’s shoulders tensed.

“Cause… I don’t know. I want them to like you.” She said shrugging off the moment, and Harrow suddenly felt very warm in the cheeks. Not the answer she’d been expecting. She turned back out the window.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Harrow said, realistically. She wasn’t the person that drew a crowd. By choice. “And what the hell are we listening to?” She said, changing the subject.

Gideon scoffed, breaking them from the awkward intimacy that had settled in the car and back to their standard shennaniganry. (God she was really spending too much time around Gideon if she was thinking words like shennainganry.)

“What don’t you like about Meute? Please enlighten me.” And Harrow almost smiled. This was becoming their weird little pattern. Gideon knew a surprising amount about the musicians and their works. It wasn’t making Harrow enjoy the music any more than before, but the conversations were at least mildly informative.

“It sounds like someone banging on pots and pans while somehow simultaneously slamming a drawer of silverware.”

“Dh! That’s completely underselling what’s going on here. First of all, they are a techno marching band, ok? And how many of those do you see?”

“Zero before today, and that was a satisfactory number.”

“God is that stick especially far up your ass today or what?” Gideon sighed, shaking her head.

“Watch it Nav.”

*********

Harrow walked across the quad, a sentence she had planned to never indulge in. In her mind she was going to college for the most base level thing, a degree. A basic degree to get her out of her small town, and to the academic field she actually desired. Doing things like walking the quad, or wearing school colors, or shotgunning a beer at a tailgate, all equally useless in her plan.

But here she was. At the whim of her… forced acquaintance? She really wasn’t even sure how to refer to Gideon in a term or contact. It wasn’t like they were strangers, but they were far from friends. Mutuals? Co-existers? Who apparently did lunch now.

“I think I see them.” Spoke up the voice from her side.

Palamedes Sextus, one of the brightest minds she’d come across. A double major that was in two of her upper labs. And a fellow mind with bigger plans on the horizon. They’d been lab partners on a few assignments and she found his company agreeable, if nothing else for the sake of their similar goal sets. And showing up to this ‘group lunch’ without knowing anyone felt like walking into a gun fight with no ammo. She wouldn’t allow herself to be embarrassed.

Sure enough though, down the line by a group of a staggering amount of adults flying kites, was that head of red she’d been getting used to seeing at early and late hours. She looked… happy. And for a moment, Harrow felt something strange. She realized she rarely saw Gideon like this. Relaxed… laughing… reclined and casual from the spot on the lawn.

3 people sat around her, two looking younger than all of them. Colorful wardrobe and personalities for sure. The other woman sitting with them looked up toward her curiously as they neared, and she was wondering what could have earned the speculation of her so immediately, when it dawned that she was staring past her at her companion.

“Pal. Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“Cam,” he chuckled. “Small campus afterall.”

Gideon smiled toward Harrow as way of greeting, then looked between the two others.

“You two know each other?”

“You could say that. We’re cousins.” ‘Cam’ said with smirk. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” Gideon chuckled. “Who’s your friend Nonagesimus?”

“Palamedes Sextus.” Palamedes Sextus answered for himself. “At your service.” He actually extended his hand to shake Gideon’s and Harrow for a moment regretted bringing him. But Gideon didn’t look embarrassed or scornful. She looked genuinely… grateful for the flourish the man spoke with as she sat up properly to accept his greeting.

“Uh, Gideon Nav. At yours.”

“Nav… curious last name. What is the origin of that?” Palamedes asked, tilting his head. Ever the scholar.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Probably some super cool race of buff gingers.” Gideon shrugged.

“Irish maybe?” The younger boy sitting on the grass offered.

“Do I luuk Ireish to yah?” She said with a truly awful impression that would offend the people of its origin.

“You look like an imbecile. Where do those hail from?” Harrow said, almost automatically. And then she froze, as she felt all the eyes turn to her. Dammit. First impression and she’d ridiculed the ‘host’ of sorts. But Gideon merely chuckled, scoffing it off in stride.

“Why the imbecisles of course. Definitely way south though. Nice try Non. Get a map.” She winked, sunglasses not obstructing her golden eyes from their spot pushed up on her forehead. The group relaxed, accepting their dynamic, and scooted around, making room for the new members to sit. Harrow found herself next to Gideon and the young girl who still hadn’t spoken. She just kept looking up and then away when they made eye contact.

“Here I got you a drink.” Gideon handed her a bottle.

“You got me a drink?” Harrow repeated.

“Yeah. They didn’t have your usuals in vending machine, so tried to pick something you’d like.” 

Harrow looked at the bottle. It was unsweet tea. Room temperature. One she enjoyed actually.

“Is that ok?” Gideon asked, seemingly needing confirmation. She gave a nod as way of one, but was feeling a slight... stir. This was more than cohabitation. This was kindness. She’d wanted her to meet her friends. She’d bought her a drink. What was she playing at?

“Gideon, are you going to introduce us?” Cam asked.

“Right. Guys this is Harrow. (She pronounced it correctly) She likes to go by Har-Dog.”

“I most certainly do not.” Harrow interjected, much to the groups amusement. Gideon continued in stride.

“No that was a lie. She doesn’t like that. But yeah she’s my uh...” and then she turned to look at her for a moment and that stir turned to a swirl. A blossoming vortex.

What was she to her?

“My co-pilot.” Gideon settled on. A fond look in her eye. And all of this was becoming too much. This kindness she was showing her... felt undeserved when all she did in turn was berate her.

“Then Harrow, these jokers are Isaac and Jeannemary. They’re in my Humanities class.” The two teens gave a little wave.

“And Cam over here, apparently related to your pal Pal, is the TA for that lecture. She has to put up with a lot.”

“As do most of your professors I presume.” Camila fired this time but Gideon just chuckled.

“Watch it Hect, or I’ll replace all your grading pens with blue ink duplicates.” Gideon threatened.

“You monster.” Cam said unmoved, and the group settled into a quiet rhythm. One where Harrow neither stood out nor felt invisible. None of the dreadful small talk, just light conversation in between everyone unpacking their sandwiches or salads or wraps. (Palamedes had a soup thermos.) 

Gideon, she noticed, wasn’t eating. In fact she’d didn’t seem to have a bag around her at all. Harrow opened her own pre-packed egg salad sandwich and nibbled on the ends in small, measured bites. But watched Gideon like a hawk as she sipped on a bright blue sports drink and chatted calmly to fill the void of actually eating.

Harrow tried to replay in her head if she’d ever seen a lunchbox in that disaster of a car she was so proud of. She’d seen the girl eat. She was always ravenous. Like a moose storing up before winter.

She looked down at the second half of her sandwich and then back at the red-headed oaf.

After an internal sigh she reached down and offered the bread with the homemade egg-salad and Gideon’s face paused, looking surprised like a snake with a tutu had suddenly appeared.

Harrow shook her hand and hung her head with a ‘hurry up and take it’ attitude, and Gideon’s face lit up like she’d just received the greatest gift. She ate it with as much grace as a pigeon and as much enthusiasm as that same pigeon finding popcorn.

Imbecile. Harrow thought with a slight curve of the lip. From the imbecisles.

*********

Harrow hurried over to the car from the shuttle, the rain already pelting her back and sides as she held her folder over her head to try and spare the worst of her. She saw the door pop open with Gideon leaning across the center console, giving her a head start as she slid into the seat and shut the door behind her.

“Alright there sea monkey?” She said with a smirk, one that the damp Harrow didn’t appreciate. “We’re good on gas til tomorrow if you wanna skip the pit stop and make for the highway?”

Harrow nodded and they started their drive in a silence that was not all together unagreeable. Or as close to silence as they got with Gideon’s standard array of tapping and humming providing ever present ambiance.

“What did ya think of the gang?” Gideon asked suddenly, as if she’d just remembered she’d been waiting all day to ask that question.

“They’re fine.” She said, thinking it was a valid answer, and hopefully... the one she wanted to hear.

She nodded, pleased, which put to rest that concern. But brought up another one that had been pestering her for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

“Why didn’t you have anything to eat?” She asked. Gideon’s eyebrow raised, as if she hadn’t expected her to notice.

“Uh, haven’t been packing one. There’s a new study for having a big breakfast and a big dinner and fasting midday.”

“But you ate the sandwich I gave you...” Harrow said, seeing through the answer.

“Yeah... guess I did.” Gideon responded dumbly, realizing she’d been had.

They stared awkwardly for a moment before Gideon sighed.

“Ok... that wasn’t true.” She sighed, as if admitting to a foul crime.

“Obviously.”

“Though I did read an article about that recently, so there may be some merit to it.” She added thoughtfully. “Just, not when you’re trying to build and maintain muscle mass.”

“Griddle.” She tried focusing her again.

“OK.” She said, letting out another annoyed sigh. “It’s not a big deal just... waiting on my scholarship to come in.”

“Scholarship?” Harrow asked, missing the connection.

“Yeah. Scholarship. Not all of us can get away with mom and dad footing the bill.” She said. Not with blame but with a kind of resignation. “So my groceries are a little light and I figured I could get away with out lunch for a few weeks til the financial aid kicks in and I got a little government money back in the bank account.”

Not the answer she’d expected. Gideon was on scholarships... It made a lot of sense. Might even be why she hadn’t applied for school until now. Financially… she couldn’t qualify.

“I... I see.” Harrow said.

“Hey don’t go pitying me now.” Gideon said with a little smirk. “I’m not some charity case cause I missed lunch ok?”

“I guess… I assumed that Aiglamene was helping...”

“Aiglamene?!” Gideon laughed. “That hard ass crusty bitch never gives handouts. And besides, she’s done enough for me.” She added with a fonder note at the end.

Now she was confused. She’d thought Aiglamene was her legal guardian. She’d known Gideon’s parents were out of the picture. Something vaguely... relatable. But she realized again how little they actually knew about each other. Which given their parallel proximity... was becoming bothersome. How much longer could they maintain being strangers?

“On another note,” Gideon cleared her throat, the universal sign of declaring that they’d drifted into uncomfortable territory. “I’m thinking I got a song you’ll like.” Gideon said, swiping the screen on her phone. She sounded more sentimental than usual. Not quite boxing her out, but still seemingly tender as if she’d left the door open a crack versus shutting it in her face. This Gideon she was slowly uncovering was not like the meathead she’d known all her life. Or maybe she was... and she’d just never given her much of a chance to convince her otherwise?

The music started with a light airy violin, almost trepident and fleeting.

“I like this song... it feels just like... noise.” Gideon said with a wistful expression. Her words were their usual brand of nonsense, but for some reason... they made sense. Clicking with something internally as the song hit its swell into the first lyrics. This growing... anxiousness that was almost ok? Vulnerability that was breaking through and tapping up as it went. Like a cup filling and overflowing.

Drink up, baby down. Are you in or are you out? Leave your things behind cause it’s all going on without you

“This song is like... I’m being held under water.” Gideon said thoughtfully, as if sharing a reoccurring daydream. “And it’s all encompassing as it crushes me while soothing at the same time. Until it’s just... noise.” An innocent smile at the end of her words and Harrow felt the vulnerability that had been pushing forward between them like a knife.

It’s alright, cause there’s beauuuuuutty in breakdown.

“That’s the thing I like about music...” She continued. “It can take us back so easily to a memory... a time... a feeling.”

And Harrow suddenly saw herself, younger, home alone… scared... 

The piano kicked up in tempo.

The porcelain tub overflowing… water pouring from the faucet and covering onto the tiled floor. The lightning outside flashed, she could hear the phone ringing in the other room. She could see her reflection in the mirror...

“Turn it off.” She said, her voice returning with enough force to break through the surface. Pressing down on the vulnerability between them. Slamming the door Gideon had left open.

“Huh?”

“Turn it off.” She repeated. Her memories crawled down her arms like spiders, and it took every ounce of self-control not to curl into a ball right then and there. “Please.”

Gideon did. She killed the volume on the car, looking genuinely concerned. She must have sensed her plead. Now only the echo of the harp and the cutoff static of the vocals hung in the air as she breathed in and out in subtle, controlled lapses. Inhale. Exhale. And soon the song would wash away in the mist around them.

“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, what just happened?” She pressed, and Harrow wanted nothing more than to push her away.

“Drop it.” There was a tension that wouldn’t leave her, even with the catalyst gone. Still seeing the way the water had soaked into the rug and dripped across the floor. The rain pelting outside didn’t help. But that song… had launched something internal and guarded and she wished to banish it to the tomb it came from.

“Just tell me what-“

“No.”

“I don’t get it, what’s so bad about that song?” She held her palm up, at a loss.

“I don’t know.” Harrow said in finality. She would be turning and walking away from this conversation if they weren’t in a car going 80, trapped in a downpour.

“He’s on third.” Gideon said under her breath, not as a slight, almost as an automatic response. It was so far from anything she’d expected her to say that she turned back with a scrunched brow.

“What?”

“He’s on... The… the Abbot and Costello bit.” She looked away from the road briefly to look shocked yet again at the popular culture reference Harrow was missing. As if she’d said something so obvious it may as well have been the sky is blue and Harrow had asked ‘What’s Blue?’

“This is what, another game show thing?” She asked, having below zero interest, but following the thread away from the past still staring from the doorway.

“No, it’s a routine. One guy is asking ‘who’s on first?’ and the other guy is trying to tell him it’s Who.”

“Who?”

“That’s right.” Gideon nodded, now quirking her lip in an entertained way. Harrow was sure she was missing or becoming the punchline. It was pestering either way.

“Who?” Harrow repeated.

“Yup.”

“Yup?”

“No, who.” Gideon said and now she was actually full on grinning. “And ‘What’ is on second.”

“Why would I know what’s on second?”

“Well I just told you.”

This was not the time, remotely, for this exchange. And now Harrow was ready to punch her, and it must’ve shown as Gideon let out an apologetic laugh.

“I’ll stop I’ll stop. You’ve got that ‘I want to sock Gideon in the face’ face. So no music. No comedy. We’ll just... listen to the rain.” She sighed the last bit, but seemed resigned to the solution. Not pushing like she normally liked to.

“Perfect.” Harrow said, turning to look back at the drops cascading across the window. Letting the phantoms of the past fall away much the same as the beads. Reminding herself, the water wasn’t surrounding her anymore. It never would again. Music was indeed a powerful tool for remembering. And there were plenty of things worth remaining forgotten.

*********

That night Harrow sat with her legs crossed on her bed, headphones in, stack of books before her. The house was dark, letting her know the hour was indeed late. She needed to finish this and call it a night.

There was a vibration on her phone laying face down on the corner of her knight stand and she checked, wondering who would be bothering her at this hour, or really at all. 

It was a number she didn’t have saved. Local area code. And a link to some video. She was ready to dismiss it and return to her project but she saw the three dots of the person typing, and paused curiously.

The grey message bubble popped up.

Hey, I thought you might like to see the routine I mentioned earlier. It might be funny if you actually had context.

Harrow blinked at the screen a moment before it clicked. Griddle. Griddle was texting her. They’d never texted before.

She’d gotten her number when they’d agreed to this riding together plan, but never actually needed it. They’d both been rather punctual with each other (something she’d admit she was entirely grateful for) and there was no need for pleasantries or pestering.

So they’d never texted.

Give it a watch.

A second bubble popped up.

She was ready to dismiss it and ignore any further distraction, but she instead found herself counter-productively scrolling up to take a look at the link and thats- 

When it happened.

She hit a key.

Her hand froze. Her own bubble would have appeared on Gideon’s screen now. Shit.

Maybe she wound’t notice, she tried to reason, but then immediately saw the grey bubble return.

And get some sleep soon ;)

Son-of-a, Now she couldn’t feign that she hadn’t seen the link. She’d sold herself out.

She pressed her palm to her face. Dammit all.

It wouldn’t be out of character for her to still blow this off. But… something about the way they’d interacted lately… the branch Gideon was so clearly extending… it made her feel obliged. And while they’d never texted, this, this, stupid link had been important enough for whatever reason to Gideon Nav. So… begrudgingly and hesitantly and all together convinced this was a waste of her mental fortitude… she clicked on the link, sliding her headphones off her ears and cutting off the ambient podcast she’d been playing.

The video kicked up. An old, grainy, black and white video of two men on a stage. She understood the joke a few moments in, the easy ploy of “who” being proper instead of a the word. “What” and “I don’t know” building on the confusion. The men’s energy was indeed comical, and she found herself, albeit regrettably, smirking through the video as the volume and antics continued to escalate.

There was something deeper gnawing at her… Their frustrations were built from misunderstanding leading to aggravation, and subsequently themselves being the joke…

Well… Maybe she was projecting a little bit there.

But there was a truth to that. And if she continually kept pushing her… co-pilot away… (she internally cursed herself for that, but truthfully she was more than a stranger) they would bang their heads against each other like this. And it would be like today. Just not as entertaining.

*********

The next day Harrow rubbed her eyes as she walked outside to greet the dark morning. Grey and starless as the sun was still creeping over someone else’s horizon.

Double parked on the curb was the black Dodge Dart. The driver already tapping away at something inside the car.

Harrow took her seat and no sooner had she taken the seat belt in her hand before Gideon burst out with a-

“So... did you watch it?”

He voice was genuinely enthusiastic, far too much for this hour in Harrow’s own opinion.

“What do you think Griddle?” She said blankly.

“I was hoping you would.” She said pouting. Like actually pulling in her cheeks and looking at her steering wheel like a small child who was told there wouldn’t be any dessert.

“I don’t give a darn.” Harrow said, a subtle quote from the bit, and like that she flipped. The surprised smile she turned to her with looking for validation as if that same small child had just been handed the largest slice of cake.

“Youuuuuuu liked it.” Gideon said triumphantly, turning the ignition.

“Are you always this presumptuous?”

Gideon chuckled, her good mood apparently untouchable. Endearing in its own small way.

“I forgot you had my number.” Harrow said absently in thought.

“What? I’ve had your number since like junior high.” Gideon said with an almost confused smirk as she turned the phone in her hand to show Harrow her contact page. “Guess just never much of an excuse to use it.”

Above her number she saw,

Harrow 💀

The skull emoji seemed a bit much.

“How am I saved in your phone? Griddle I presume?” She asked coyly, and Harrow panicked for a moment. In reality she wasn’t saved at all.

“That is none of your concern.” She bristled, curling her legs into her chest and looking out the window, decidedly ignoring her.

“Alright alright, I’ll drop it. Sensitive this morning.” Gideon said, more amused than irked.

As they drove Harrow uncurled slightly and checked her phone, side-eyeing Gideon who was lost in some blue grass vibe playing on the radio and she scrolled to the message bubble from the previous night. She hovered over it a moment before hitting Add Contact, and typing in Gideon Nav in the contact field. Proper. Punctual. Professional. If she was going to be in her contact book she was going to be formalized like the rest of them.

She hesitated over the ‘Company’ field. She could put college. She could put Drearburgh. She could put Bane of my Existence. Her eyes flicked the side again in consideration…

She typed in Co-Pilot and hit save.

Chapter Text

Gideon walked out of the financial office, hunched shoulders and fists balled up. Clenched in one of her mitts was the form given to her by the academic advisor, or fucking crook, or whatever you called the buggers that sat behind a desk and cast judgement on your future with the same care and attention as a fortune cookie.

She made her way back to the car feeling like a stove that had been left on when no one was home and was ready to burn the entire flipping house down. Hope they had homeowners insurances.

She threw open the door to her beloved Dodge Dart, hearing the handle creak at her force and took out her bag, shoving the aforementioned form into the front pocket then slamming the door closed, leaning her arms and head against the roof of the car.

Sighing deep, she stayed in that pose and let the feeling subside. She was really up a creek without a paddle. Without a boat for that matter. She was just wadding in the water over fish shit and weeds and waiting for the current to take her.

“Sorry old girl.” She said quietly, patting the roof of her sunbaked car. It didn’t deserve her ire. While the meeting had been a crock of crap she knew herself enough to know that it was pointless to let herself sit with the buzzing in her ears. She needed to do something. So she gave the roof of her car another pat for luck and popped her trunk. She fished out a change of shirt and shoes and turned to sit against the back of her bumper while she slipped off her Chuck Taylor’s for running sneakers. Once she tied the laces she slipped off her flannel long sleeve, then grabbed the hem of her band shirt and pulled it over her head. She grabbed the beat old olive green t-shirt and slid it over her head as she heard a whistle. Either in scoff or admiration.

“Piss off.” She muttered, not looking for the source and turning to slam the lid shit on the trunk. She reached through the open window of her driver door to her cupholder and pulled out her phone with her earbuds, sliding them into either side. She scrolled through her tunes until she found something proper and hit play, then turned to bolt it down the nearest sidewalk. Screw stretching. Screw warm up. She needed to move.

The song kicked in over her drumming demons, and she welcomed it.

Its percussion melded and mixed, with an aggressive piano riff that pounded louder than her own envy and arduousness. So she let it move her. And she didn’t just run, she assaulted the earth with every further step on it.

A chorous of ‘ohs’ and ‘woos’ escalated and grew over the beat and she was lost in it.

Traversing sidewalks no longer, but sheets of music. The lines and half notes as the guitars picked in. The whole stops and staccatos of the melody.

She could hear people over her headphones calling out to her as she maneuvered around the crowded campus but they weren’t even faces to her now. Just blurs. There was only the song.

Each and every day

Hiding from the sunshine

Wandering in the shade

Not too old, not too young

The ripples of rage subsided. Or couldn’t catch her at her new rate of pace.

Every night again

Dancing with the moonlight

Somewhere far away

I can hear your call

The piano practically bangs like drums into its four count leading to the bridge.

She felt the sweat beading on her back and absorbing into the cotton of the shirt. She pumped her legs faster, clearing a path around the massive lake in the center of campus. She probably looked insane. And she probably was.

Life had never been fair. Why should it start now? She reasoned. This was just another roadblock in a long long list…

I'm out of my head

Of my heart and my mind

'Cause you can run but you can't hide

I'm gonna make you mine

The chorus blared and she turned the volume up the final few notches. She wanted to hear that synth and melody in every ounce of eardrum. She wanted to feel it and only it as the piano came smashing back in.

And she almost did.

Sometime later she made it back to her car. It was probably still in the same hour, but the sun had definitely shifted in the sky. Sweat shown through most of her back and down her sides, tinting in splotches across her shirt. But the anger had subsided. Left it out on the pavement so she could start to think of solutions instead of setbacks. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and flipped it up to dab at her face, wondering if she should talk to Aigalemene. She needed some help… maybe even just a direction on what to do next.

“Griddle.” She heard firmly and abruptly paused before walking into- 

“Harrow…” She said, surprised but not upset to see the little goth normally in her co-pilot seat standing in the light of day. “What uh… what are you doing here?” She said, still catching her breath and pulling the buds out of each ear.

Harrow blinked almost… embarrassedly? Eyes darting between Gideon’s and the ground. She was still absently clutching the end of her shirt, exposing herself chest down. Did that… bother Harrow? It might. She dressed covered head to toe in summer fall or whenever.

“You weren’t at lunch.” She said finally. Clutching her books around her chest tighter.

“Oh…” That’s right, it was Wednesday. “Yeah I had a meeting. Went late.”

A meeting and a meltdown but it was hardly worth noting the second part.

Harrow fidgeted on her leg a moment, shifting her weight. Gideon was getting ready to apologize or ask her what her deal was when she jutted her arm out from her side with a brown paper bag and pressed it against Gideon’s chest.

“Here.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow confused before putting both hands under it for support.

“What is it?”

“Does it matter?” Harrow said, still looking away and fidgeting on her feet.

“I mean if it’s a dead cat or a stolen array of porno rags yeah I think that would be relevant information.” Gideon started, smirking slightly and gaining a roll of the eyes from Harrow.

“Geez, it’s nothing- its lunch! Ok?” She said, finally turning to face her with a definite blush on her cheeks.

“You brought me lunch?” Gideon asked, smirk falling away and a genuine smile forming.

“Don’t make a big deal about it.” Harrow said, frowning and pressing her books up to cover the bottom half of her face. If Gideon wasn’t so excited at the prospect of food she would’ve wanted to unpack the weird way she was acting. But this bag, now confirmed at not containing dead cat or (sadly) porno mags was the new most important thing. And a nice turn around from being handed a big fat bill moments prior.

Before Gideon could even say thanks Harrow had turned and begun walking away in a flip of black and grey fabric.

“If you’re going to drag me to things with people the least you can do is show up Griddle…” She grumbled walking away in a huffy cloud. “And put a shirt on.”

Gideon couldn’t even be annoyed at her complaints because there was lunch to be had. She practically tore open the paper bag to find half a rewrapped egg salad sandwich. Always egg salad with her.

Gideon took a larger than average bite and looked again at the dark blot on the landscape that was Harrow. And she found herself smiling… and thinking… maybe a little differently?

Weird man. Fucking weird. Must’ve been something in the egg salad.

That afternoon, driving home along the highway Gideon found herself trying to breakdown these different thoughts. She tapped her fingers on the dash a little more rapid than a usual day. Still some agitation from her earlier meeting. She was going to have to do some real soul searching… and financial searching… and maybe grab a shovel and search for buried treasure and a fucking miracle at this point.

“Griddle.” From her side pulled her back out of her head and she saw Harrow looking at her very intently.

“What?” She said, almost guilty. Poorly masking her train of thought.

Harrow just blinked those beady little eyes, gazing over her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

Ok small talk and care from Harrow was the cherry on top of this weird day. It made her want to pinch herself to be sure she was awake. But also, shit, how did she know something was off? She thought she was playing it so cool.

“Nothing. Why?” She said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice. Thinking it was a lousy excuse.

Harrow looked at her dumbly, confirming her suspicions that she had given the worst cover of all time.

“Your radio’s off.”

Oh shit.

Harrow kept watching her, like prey. Like feisty little prey that fed on egg salad sandwiches and specifically her shortcomings.

“So?” Gideon said, with the all time best comeback. And Harrow rolled her eyes, turning back to her corner of the car.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll enjoy the quiet for a change.” She crossed her arms and sunk further into her dark turtleneck and coat that was definitely too thick for the warm weather. While Gideon wanted to feel a victory in the dropped topic… it seemed like she had shut a door on Harrow. It wasn’t often she left them open…

She thought again about the different thoughts from earlier. Things between them had been pretty good all things considered. They’d had their lunch dates regularly now for a week or two, and she was reminded that time with Harrow wasn’t actually… bad. She still hadn’t successfully shown her any more music she actually enjoyed, but that was a lost cause that was more for agitating her and getting the occasional victory then converting her.

But things were like… old? Like elementary school before everything got fucked up…

She swallowed the feeling and shitty memories, shaking her head of it and wishing she had some music going after all. A chorus or melody to obstruct her inner monologues.

She sighed a thin, long breath. Maybe that door was still open a crack… maybe she could try and knock.

“Nonagesimus…” She tried, seeing those same little pebbles of black look back at her.

Then she felt a violent jolt as if they’d hit a pothole and heard a flopping sound drumming from outside the car. She brought them to a stop on the side of the road, knowing she’d just lost a tire and after her adrenaline spike slowed she turned to the now wide-eyed co-pilot and exclaimed an elegant, “Fucking hell.”

Gideon had successfully swapped their tire for the spare in 15 minutes and came back into the car dusting the grease off her hands. The downside, the spare was pretty flat too. She didn’t think they could make it all the way back to Drearburh on this shoddy half-deflated piece of junk. She leaned back in her seat with a sigh, putting her hands over her face and groaning slightly at the turn of the day. Just another fucking thing.

“You have grease on your face.” Harrow stated, unhelpfully from her right and Gideon took the effort to glare at her from behind her fingers.

“We’re gonna have to stop and get it patched.” Gideon said finally turning the key back in the engine. Half expecting an argument or a swipe at her car’s expense.

Instead she got a “very well.” And they made for the nearest exit, slowly and with a little more bounce in their step than was comfortable.

The nearest exit was a little nowhere stop, but luckily had a mechanic in sight that she reluctantly left her beloved Zweihander at. He’d been pretty backed up with other cars so promised to give em a call when it was done.

Her and Harrow had walked through the dirt street across the way to a little diner with outdoor seating and plated silver chrome on much of the exterior. Neon open signs blaring in bright colors in a dim landscape. Really the whole nine yards, even with the missing letters from the signs.

She’d probably have found it charming any other time, even with Harrow being the person she was here with, but right now she was too wound to relax. A fact that was becoming glaringly apparent to her colleague, who was looking more and more agitated.

They took a seat at one of the outdoor benches in the empty outdoor patio and Gideon sighed, propping her elbow on the table and her palm on her cheek.

“Guess we’re stranded for a bit.” Gideon muttered.

“That’s obvious.” Harrow said, flipping open a book and being content to turn her full attention to the pages.

It was, but she didn’t need to say it like such a bitch. Gideon grumbled, temper short, but did her best to keep it to herself.

The door opened and out came an older lady with grey hair and a neon green visor. She carried two menus stuffed under an arm that she flicked onto the table with no real grace.

“Hey kids, what can I get ya?” She asked, arbitrarily pulling out a pen and pad. Staring off 1000 yards or so.

“Water.” Harrow responded, flicking her eyes up briefly as acknowledgement and some base level manner, before going back to reading.

Gideon grabbed the laminated menu and held it up with a squint. This day had already sucked, she could use a pick me up. 10$ wasn’t going to sink or swim her here.

“Lemme get a… rippled fudge caramel clump milkshake.” She said, setting down the menu and turning back to the lady who scribbled some letters onto the page and nodded.

“Can do sweetheart.” She said with her drawl and waddled away.

Gideon glanced back at the menu to pick out a snack to go with. Something salty and hot that would counter the sweet and cold of her milkshake. If she was treating herself, she was motherfudging treating herself.

Speaking of… she looked over her menu at the tiny dark splotch of a person that was strung into her book and disassociating from her… that had gone out of her way to share food with her earlier.

“Hey…” she called to get her attention. Harrow flicked her eyes up. “You hungry? I’m buying.” She offered.

“No.” Harrow said flatly, and turned her eyes back to the book. So much for that.

“What, you only eat egg-salad?” She said equally flat.

Harrow didn’t bother looking up, just uttered a, “Not hungry.”

Gideon could drop it, but that didn’t sound like something she’d do.

“Not even for a side? We could split something.” Which Gideon rarely did. Finishing her food was a personal passion.

Harrow finally turned out of her book, looking a bit huffed at having her attention interrupted again. Gideon expected a turn down but instead got a, “Fine.”

She blinked, surprised to have won the battle so easily and smiled, knowing she was getting under that painted on black exterior little by little.

“Dope. What’re we having?”

“Just pick something.” She turned her eyes back to the book, but Gideon wasn’t letting her off that easy. She reached across the table and closed the flap over Harrow’s finger, much to her annoyance.

“Nonagesimus, will you just look at the menu and pick a side? You make trying to do you a kindness like collecting taxes.”

Harrow scrunched at her closed book and darted her eyes over to Gideon, sighed a long exhale and set the book down, slid the menu sharply over in front of her and looked down at the options.

“Fries.” She said. And slid it back with as much force, flipped open her book with a deep stare, and made a show of turning her neck back down to the book. Signaling the end of the conversation and her patience. Gideon spoke Harrow. This was as far as she wanted to be pushed. But… Gideon was going to push her anyway.

“What type of fries?” She drew out the question and leaned forward a bit. Being a bum and knowing it with the seething look she got from Harrow. 

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.”  Harrow said slowly.

“How can you say that? Do you see all the types of fries on here? All the potatoes?” Gideon slapped the back of her fingers on the menu for effect. “Tots. Crinkle cut. Waffle. Oooh they even have potato tornadoes. Fair food.”

“Pick a version of a spud, it makes no difference.” 

“Ok, well it absolutely does and the fact that you don’t see that or don’t care enough to take it into consideration is truly-“

“Griddle.”

But she was too far committed to this. She picked a marker out of her pocket and sketched some quick lines on the graffiti ridden table.

“You’re not getting out of this my sour-faced sherpa.” She filled in the bracket with all the potato based sides. “And I will convince you the only way I know how. March Madness style.”

Harrow raised an apathetic eyebrow in a way that made Gideon dreadfully realize she didn’t know what March Madness was, but wasn’t about to ask. So Gideon inserted an explanation post haste.

“Basically head to head until only one is left.”

Her eyebrow went back down to blank disapproval, but before she could argue Gideon dove into the first round.

“Starting us off, we’ve got potato salad and waffle fries up first. Which… I think is a no brainer. I’m sure you’d agree? Waffle fries are a million times better than cold potato mayonnaise mush, yes?”

She turned her eyes back to Harrow who had paused, mid-excuse to simply seal her lips and retreat to her book. But Gideon decided to commit to this game regardless of the refusal. Sometimes you had to make your own fun.

“I’ll take your silence as complicity.”

“You shouldn’t.” Harrow uttered indifferently.

“But I shall choose to anyway.” Gideon said, already moving Waffle fries down the bracket. “Next up, Tater Tots and Curly Fries. Now this is a tougher one. Both are inherently good in their own ways.” Gideon taped the back of the marker to her chin.

“Tots.” Harrow said, suddenly, eyes still buried in her book.

Gideon’s jaw almost dropped, and she quickly covered her glee with a smirk and a nod.

“Of course you’re right. They cook more evenly and have a crisp exterior. Alright, two down. Next, Steak Fries or a Baked potato.”

“A baked potato is not even fries.” Harrow said, still nose in her book.

“Butttt you can add sour cream to it. And bacon. Green onions?”

“Can’t you load fries?” Harrow said, eyes finally drifting up from the book she imagined she was no longer reading.

“You can. You can. And honestly if you were going to load a fry, steak fries are the one.” She ran a line through the defeated side and penned ‘steak fries’ into the next row.

They agreed on sweet potato fries over potato wedges, homemade chips over potato smileys, and Gideon insisted potato tornado over mashed potatoes on principle of the name being badass alone. The first one they disagreed on was shoestring versus crinkle cut, and at this point Harrow had closed the cover of her book and Gideon decided to let her have the win with shoestring, loving that she was getting into it.

“Alright final one to close out the first round, truffle fries versus hash browns.”

“Hashbrowns. Breakfast food is king.” Harrow said, and Gideon couldn’t help but smile.

“I was going to shoot down truffle fries on hoity-toityness alone. So we’re on the same page, and have a winner. Now, the head to head winners commence for round two. Where the real shit starts.”

Harrow’s brow raises now had more entertainment behind them than scorn. She could tell in the slight curve at her lips, and her eyes looked less grey… she was getting better at reading her little ticks and pulling out ways to make her show them…

“Real shit huh? In a potato contest.” Harrow said.

“Yeah, cause we’re starting off with a bang. Waffle fries versus Tater Tots.” Gideon said with her hands out to show the weight of the conundrum.

“That’s not hard.” Harrow said. “Tater Tots.”

“Ooooh, see that’s where you’re wrong.” Gideon clicked her tongue. “Waffle fries have the best radius. The air pockets let in the perfect crunch in every bite, golden brown.” She curled her finger tips toward her lips and kissed to show her appreciation.

“Sounds like you two need a room.” Harrow said, trying to bring her down but merely making her chuckle instead.

“I wouldn’t be opposed, but I’ve already agreed to share them with you.” She pointed the end of the marker toward her with a wink and it seemed like… Harrow’s features softened even more.

“Fine. Have your waffle fries.” Harrow relented, and Gideon eagerly moved it along the way.

“The old savory versus sweet next. Steak fries versus sweet pot-“

“Savory.” Harrow said the single word, arms now crossed over the forgotten book, and Gideon took pride. She’d chosen her over the book…

“Should’ve guessed that one.” She said with minor challenge. “You don’t strike me as having much of a sweet tooth.” 

“You would be correct. A rare occurrence, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.” She smirked now. She actually smirked, and Gideon couldn’t feel offended with the way her eyes were twinkling now. She was playing along and Gideon felt her smile splitting and a chuckle brimming.

“Well it’s half passed time to fuck off.”

Homemade chips fell to Potato tornado on Gideon’s insistence, and hash browns bested shoestring fries when Gideon pointed out they’re essentially fried and flattened versions of the same thing.

And then after intense debate they got down to Waffle fries and Hashbrowns, where they seemed equally split and at odds as neither could get the other side to concede. Gideon on the side of Waffle Fries, Harrow defending the plight of the hash brown with her steely expression returning as if not to be deterred. Gideon would be too happy to let her win. She already felt like she’d won, honestly, from the moment she said ’tots.’ But she had one last case to be made.

“I want to dip them in my milkshake.”

Harrow paused, brow returning in full furrow.

“What?”

“You heard me. I like to dip my french fries into my milkshake. Hashbrowns can’t do that. Waffle fries can.”

At this time the waitress decided to return, holding the two drinks in her hand and setting them down in their styrofoam cups, then tossing two straws to the table from her apron.

“Aren’t we having fun?” She said, lazily looking at the table scribbled in sharpie names of potatoes, but saying nothing more on the matter. “Anything else I can get for ya?”

“A side of Waffle fries.” Harrow said with a slight smile, ever so slight, and it brought one back to Gideon’s lips. Something sweeter than the milkshake she was about to drink. Complicity. Dare she say kindness?

The lady nodded and returned through those double glass doors, and Gideon tore into the paper wrapper, punching the straw into the lid and taking a big sip of ice cream and milk. Fucking delicious.

Their fries came out a moment later, steam still rippling in the air around them and the smell of salt nice and strong. Gideon could already feel her mouth watering.

She took the lid off her drink, grabbed one from the pile feeling the heat prick her fingertips, and got a hearty scoop of chocolate syrup, vanilla ice cream, and clumps of caramel chips all on one bite. There were few things food couldn’t solve. A bad mood was no match for the combination of hot and cold, sweet and salty. She went in for another while still chewing the first. She saw Harrow still watching her as she did and when she grabbed the third fry she paused and held it out, reaching for the goth that hadn’t touched the plate yet.

“Well?”

“I’ll let them cool.”

Gideon shook her head.

“No no, trust me on this, it’s best when it’s hot.” And she held up the cup, offering the brim toward her.

“You expect me to try your insane concoction?”

“Yes, I know you’re dying to.” She said playfully and Harrow, providing yet another surprise for the day, complied. She took a fry from the plate, dipped it into the shake (a little lightly for Gideon’s taste, ratio was gonna be off) but then she followed through and took a tentative bite.

Gideon watched, trying to play it cool how eagerly she wanted her to like it.

“Well?”

“It’s appalling.” Harrow said, but that playful look in her eye told her she didn’t mean it. She leaned the milkshake back toward her with a waggle of her eyes, and Harrow took another one. (this time taking a better scoop.)

“If you just wanted waffle fries, why the whole bracket?” Harrow asked, taking another bite.

Gideon took a thoughtful slurp.

“I didn’t know I wanted them until we had finished half the bracket.” She shrugged. “Plus…” She let the sentence pause, thinking through the words before saying them. Which was uncommon for her, but she felt their weight.

“Plus…” Harrow added, eyeing her.

“It was fun.” She settled on. “What’s wrong with doing things for fun?” She smiled her way and Harrow watched her thoughtfully.

“Why…” This time it was Harrow who paused, scrunching her thoughts.

“Why…?” It was Gideon’s turn to fish.

“Why do you try and drag me into your fun?”

Well… that hadn’t been the question she was expecting. That was what we call a right curve outta left field folks.

“What’s wrong with it?” Gideon asked, cautiously.

She bit her lip.

“It’s not wrong… I just don’t know why you’d want… me…” She was struggling here, voicing the issues between them, and Gideon had felt it from her. “to be a part of it.”

Gideon blinked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asked, sideway smile breaking through her confusion.

Harrow shrugged, and seemed to recede in that moment, and Gideon had no clue why. She was worried she gave the wrong answer, but… maybe this was just Harrow shit? Was there anything she could say to save it? To keep that light shimmer in her eyes when she said Griddle? That sour, sarcastic smile on her lips?

“You’re not all that bad Nonagesimus, even though you want me to believe you are.” Gideon let impulse guide her words again. “And getting along with my co-pilot isn’t a pain, it’s one of the few good things I got going.”

Suddenly she felt warm in her throat and cheeks, and felt stupid. Talking emotions was not a specialty of hers, it was a preferred silent subject. She turned back to her milkshake and took a good long swig, happy to avoid any further eye contact. Maybe talking had been stupid. She always felt like she was the one bearing her heart in these conversations.

She fidgeted slightly, feeling self-consciousness rearing it’s ugly head. And then she felt a slight tug in her hand and Harrow had leaned across the table to dip another fry in her milkshake and their eyes met there was still that sparkle. That fragile kindness hasn’t been destroyed yet…

Gideon let her shoulders sigh, relieved she hadn’t pushed her all the way back. She moved the milkshake closer to the center and was content to finish their little meal in comfortable quiet, just the buzz of the crickets starting to come out in the early evening.

Getting the bill for the restaurant was fine, she tried to calculate the tip in her head with an old trick Aiglamene had taught her of moving the decimal point, and rounded up to the nearest dollar.

Getting the bill from the car shop however… that one hurt.

The shop hand had shown her how the tire was stripped around the rim and couldn’t be patched. Was instead needing to be replaced. Her spare too, was punctured in a few areas that had leaked when they tried to put air into it. So what she was hoping was air and like a 30$ patch was now almost 250$ out of pocket for the tire disposing fee, labor, and two new wheels she needed.

Gideon looked through the cash she had on her, and embarrassedly counted out the singles and twenties she was holding onto. Not enough…

She had to text Aiglamene instead and tell her she was using the credit card and she’d pay her back, then swipe away another hit to her finances, after the one she’d already gotten in the morning. These bitches were converging on her.

Suddenly all the light air and sugar high she’d taken in from her milkshake date with Harrow was long forgotten, and the dollar signs were dancing in her head, threatening her with their expanding interest and mugging her of the future she’d convinced herself she could have.

She was silent in the car as they drove the rest of the way home. The clouds had come in, eclipsing the sunset warmth from earlier in a grey ambience that matched her inner storm. If Harrow noticed she graciously said nothing, though her eyes were peering over to her every few moments as they neared in on Drearburh.

Gideon had put her device on shuffle, letting whatever pre-determined, nonsensical pattern of songs play out. New-age to nineties to punk metal covers. It didn’t matter. But then one song kicked on that drew her attention as she was exiting the highway.

Ohhhhh, listen up. Young man, there’s a young man, he writes stories.

He’s a writer, a little writer boy. He falls in love with a girl, girl already has a boyfriend, she kinda loves him back, but not really.

T hey’re just really good friends, and that’s fine.

He understands, it’s rational.”

The words fly out as if speed-talking were the sport and the singer was the mvp, and Gideon found herself mouthing along. She knew this song like the back of her hand. Hobo Johnson, a personal favorite of hers. Odd, out there, not remotely trying to fit in, just to be his goofy ass self and make a song over a simple beat. She respected the balls it took the be that in a world of copy cats.

Most of his songs were like this, like a Jackson Polluck painting in song form. Seemingly random, but thought out. She’d been meaning to show it to Harrow on her attempted list of suggestions, but was easing into it. It was definitely a bit out there, but so were both of them.

The chorus kicked in during her musings over the simple guitar pattern.

And I love the thought of being with you

Or maybe it’s the thought of not BEING SO ALONE.”

The song screams the last part of the sentence in a chorus of voices before dipping again.

Hey, the second one’s way sadder than the first one

But, I don’t know.

I love the thought of being with you...

It was stirring in her chest the way his songs did. They had vision from someone broken like the intended audience and spoke of real feelings, not daffodils and dandelions.

“Why do you like this song? It’s awful.” Came from the side seat, and it was just the wrong thing to hear on the wrong day.

“What?” Gideon slammed on the breaks 30 feet from the stop sign, jerking the seatbelt against Harrow’s ribcage.

“This is a wonderful song.” Gideon insisted, ignoring the annoyed gaze from Harrow at the shell shock stop. “How could you not love Hobo Johnson?”

“Love? I can barely tolerate it.” She said.

And usually that’d be fine. This was their dynamic. Insults and insinuations. But… today… lately… she thought they’d been making progress.

“What… don’t you like about it?” She asked softly, cautiously almost.

“Everything?” Harrow said, eyebrow arched to show she couldn’t understand how she had to explain herself. “This is just a guy talking obnoxiously over a guitar and some claps.”

Gideon shook her head with a scoff.

“Ok so that’s the most base level of what is happening. He is shattering rhyme scheme, evolving patterns, using metaphors and escapism, and still talking about breakfast in relation to a strong yet one-sided connection. This is the definition of breaking the mold and…” She shook her head a few times, starting to feel the red inside of her. She hated that feeling. She needed to rope it back in. Maybe go for another run right here, on the side of the road.

“Griddle it is actually terrible. It’s not that I don’t like it… I actively dislike it.”

And that did it.

“You are impossible!” Gideon yelled, surprising Harrow with her sudden volume. “You know how hard I’ve been trying to find something you do like? Music, snacks, people, like why is this so hard? Why do you make everything so hard?”

And there was something that snapped there. Something that hurt… like a cheap punch in the bottom of her gut. They’d hurt each other again. Just like elementary school all over. And she suddenly felt so stupid that she’d let her close enough that she could hurt.

“Apologies for being above your comprehension level. The list is surely getting longer by the moment.” She sneered back, turning to look out the window.

“Fuck you princess, and your high and mighty ears that are so above my peasants offerings. I’ve been banging my head against a wall trying to make you happy, but you don’t like anything do you? You’d rather be miserable and dodge the joy life throws at you to stay above us all wouldn’t you? The hell is wrong with you? How can you live like that?!”

And through the red she saw the scowl of Harrow’s darken out completely. The light was gone. The walls had shot back up, but even through that she saw the quick prick of pain.

Without another word she opened the door to the car and stepped out onto the overgrown patch of weeds in her black skirt and boots, slamming it closed behind her with more force than a tiny person should be capable of.

Gideon merely grit her teeth and punched the steering wheel. She wasn’t about to call after her. That would be some weak shit, plus she was fairly confident she would be promptly ignored. If Nonagesiumus was going to storm off, she was going to storm off. Gideon probably couldn’t hit her with her car and not put a dent in the rhythm of her stomping away.

Couldn’t she see she’d been trying? Trying everything to find something to connect with her. They really, truly had nothing in common. Less than nothing. She was so utterly, blindingly, donkey-punchingly frustrating-

And she’d pushed her away.

She’d done it. She’d flipped her lid and driven her away… while simultaneously failing to drive her to their destination.

She punched her steering wheel again and might have cried.

Fuck it, no one was around to see anyway.

Chapter Text

Harrow took a sip of her water from the paper triangle cone in her hand. She wasn’t sure this mechanism deemed the term cup, but could understand why they’d use something so trivial and trifling. A single fold in a circle and voila, a cup for the suckers taking advantage of public transportation.

Though, advantage seemed an unlikely word. Harrow looked up past the water cooler mounted next to her and around at the few other lonely souls that would be on a bus out of Drearburh at 5am on a Thursday. Not many. Scattered about the other seats were a few that looked on their way to work and a few on their way back. One kid with a skateboard sleeping with his head rested against the seat in front of him, rocking slightly from side to side as they went over bumps.

Harrow curled her coat around her sides tighter and crossed her legs, one over the other as she sipped the last of her cup. She often occupied the seat nearest the door. It had access to the complimentary water cooler, gave her vantage in all directions (not that there was anything to see) and provided her a chance to avoid others quite easily. At least in the mornings. 

The ride back was often more crowded. Bustling with those finishing their days or coming out of the city. Then she’d have to take whatever seat was available. Often wedged between two strangers, someone talking on a cellphone, or once by a man eating a bowl of chili. Nevertheless… this was the new routine.

It had been ever since a week ago when she had walked out of that piece of shit Dodge and made the rest of her way home in the dark. Ever since the person she had started seeing as… a companion had said the things to her that only shadows had ever dared.

Since the day she knew she’d been right to be weary around her, and was proven right in glorious fashion. It was silly to think that someone as oafish as that could hurt her, and a foolish thing to consider that she had ever given her the chance to. This was Gideon Nav after all. Someone who had always managed to get tangled into her life and make a mess of it. The bus may smell like burned rubber, stop 1000 times with that creaky pneumatic door sliding open, and double her commute time.

But it was worth it to avoid her.

Besides, Harrow swallowed, she was sure she was happy with the new arrangement. No one to have to wait around for. No one to be beholden to. Free to blast her ridiculous songs without judgement.

She shook her head of those thoughts, and looked across the way to the open window passing the scenery outside.

They were closing in on her exit. She gathered her things.

*********

Gideon drove, not even hearing the words behind her music, merely thinking angry thoughts. They strummed their own beat in her head, red and loud and aggravating at a bonkers level. Harrow hadn’t been returning her calls. Figures. She’d stopped trying. But, she still showed up each morning at her very fancy poorly lit house in the suburbs, arms crossed and leaning against the outside of her car until she was sure she wasn’t coming out.

At which point she’d dramatically get back in her car with a huff, slam the door closed, and punch the steering wheel. Her hand was getting a little bruised from all the things she’d been punching this week. She could see the purple and yellow skin forming in blots around her knuckles, and slid it into a fingerless glove. She winced once as the pressure added around her enflamed skin, but it felt right. A constant reminder of what a fuck-up she was…

Now she was nearing in on campus, the drive somehow taking it’s sweet ass time, and then over in a blink. If you asked, she couldn’t have told you if she’d passed any other cars on the road. As she parked and killed the engine she briefly caught the end of the song.

The old-school bass warbled in over the steady synth and alternative vocals.

“Cause you’re never coming back,

you said I’d see you in hell.

I kinda miss you…

Kinda, sorta, maybe, I don’t know.

I kinda miss you…

Kinda, sorta, maybe I don-“

She slammed the button off on the volume and grit her teeth.

“Bet you think you’re reallllll fucking cute, huh?” She said to no one in particular. Maybe the radio gods that had lined up their perfect irony. She punched the steering wheel again, feeing that bruise radiate and spread from the impact, then kicked her car door open and started hauling her ass to class.

She bit the inside of her lip in thought and stared at the grass as she walked, arm slung over her shoulder with one backpack strap on, the other hand stuffed in her jacket pocket.

“There she is, Gid!” Called out a familiar, but at the moment, unwelcome voice. She looked up, begrudgingly breaking her staring match with the ground, sure she would’ve gotten it to blink first, to see the teens Isaac and Jeanmarie coming up to her with their usual pep in their step.

“What?” She said flatly, currently sitting at a negative 5 for social energy for the day.

“Geez, who spit in your coffee this morning?” Isaac said raising an eyebrow.

Same person that always does. She thought. But instead said, “Your mom.”

“Your mom jokes, really? What is this, 2003?” Isaac deadpanned, otherwise unbothered.

“We’re you even alive then?” Gideon asked, slight impatience growing.

“She’s still in a bad mood.” Jeannemary said to Isaac, who shared a nod. Great, they’d been discussing her.

“Well yeah, ‘the other one’ is too. We saw that first hand. Don’t know why they won’t just kiss and make up.” Isaac said, shaking his head.

“For real. People can be so dramatic.” Jeannemary hung her head.

“Hello?!” Gideon said annoyed. “I’m right here. Do you want me to walk away before you start shit-talking? Or is this supposed to still be part of a conversation?” Her temper was rising, like yeast in pissed off bread. Nevermind the bit about ‘the other one.’ She knew who they were talking about and was happily banishing her name from front of mind.

“It’s not shit talk.” Jeannemary corrected. “It’s just talk. Which is what you two should do. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. You’re both such butts without each other, it’s incredibly annoying that you can’t see it.”

Gideon grit her teeth. Part of her wanted to hold onto the idea that she-who-must-not-be-named was also affected by this… by their separation… but she wouldn’t grant herself that kind of hope. Not when she could punish herself instead.

“You say that like I haven’t tried.” Gideon sighed, turning her head away and biting her lip again.

“Well, try harder.” Isaac nudged her shoulder softly. “We miss the fun Gideon.”

“Oh piss off.” She muttered, and that got a chuckle from them both.

“See that’s more like it.” Isaac said before they started jogging off past her.

“Just think about it.” Jeannemary said with a wave.

Gideon sighed nice and slow, trying to regain a sense of composure. Little avail as her thoughts were extra loud during her walk to class.

Maybe… maybe she’d try again.

Or maybe she’d tell her to eat shit.

She should just flip a coin.

*********

Harrow finished her days work, happily tightened her hoodie around her shoulders with the sun still high in the sky, and made for the bus stop. It’d be about 16 minutes until the next bus arrived to take her home, that being if it was actually on time. Which would be a pleasant surprise.

As she crossed to the little overhang and metal bench that was the bus stop she saw it only contained one other person, then squinted when she realized who it was. She paused midstep and curled her expression in further. This fucking ginger… she really couldn’t take a hint could she?

Harrow stood there longer than she’d like to admit, trying to decide whether to keep approaching or wait out nearby, or maybe just go slash her fucking tires. While she was debating she realized that she’d seen her, ducking her head past the thin walls and locking eyes. Forced retreat it was.

Harrow turned with a bit of flourish on her heels and started walking back toward the building. She was not doing this shit again.

“Grahh, hey. I see you dumbass.” She heard her call after her. Charming as always.

She held up a middle finger over her shoulder in response and kept walking, not even sure what she was aiming for. Other than making a scene. She heard another grumble and then footsteps rushing up to her.

“Hey!” She heard her call again, closer now. She clutched her books tighter to her chest, wishing this interaction were over before it started. But she wasn’t going to run. That was cowardly. She’d face her if she had to.

“Will you stop pretending you don’t hear me-“ She rounded her at that point and stood directly in her path, putting out a hand to block her way as she’d just crossed about 30 yards in a few seconds. “And just talk to me.”

“I’m not pretending, I’m ignoring. There’s a difference.” She said in turn, diverting her eyes to anywhere but her.

“Well stop doing that, and just… look-“ She sounded aggravated still, composure never having been her strong point. “If you need to cuss me out or tell me to jump off a fucking cliff, just do it already. Stop dragging this out.”

Now that drew Harrow’s fiery gaze, turning her eyes and full fury on her.

“Fuck off. Go drown yourself. I don’t. Want. To. Be. Around. You. Is that what you wanted to hear?” She knew she was laying it on thick and saw the creases in the corner of her eyes from where she’d cut fresh blood. But this had to end.

“There. Feel better?” Gideon asked, throwing her hands up. “Now do you want a ride home or what?”

“What?” Harrow practically laughed with her continued obliviousness. “Did you not listen to a thing I said?”

“Heard all of it you pain-in-the-ass princess. And regardless of the thorn in my side that you are, I’m still standing here. Offering to give you a ride home.” She pointed her whole palm at her, which… since when was she wearing gloves? “So what’ll it be?”

“Go choke on a grape.” Harrow said, curling back in on herself. This was just like her. Disregarding her wishes and words. Only looking for other ways to bother her. To hurt her again. Her stupid game. If she was a thorn in her side it was one that had been infected for far too long. It was time to get the tweezers, bite down on something, and pull it the fuck out.

Probably just wanted her around for her money…

Gideon grit her teeth and clenched her fists at her side before throwing her arms up all together.

“Fine. Fine. If that’s what you want, enjoy your public transportation. I’m not going to keep putting myself out there just for you- gah just- hope you’re happy with your fucking choice.” She said, storming off, hands at her side as her manic pacing had grown to a breaking point and she stormed off. Harrow would bet she didn’t even know what direction she was going in.

Harrow waited for her heart rate to slow, clenching her books tighter to her chest and standing in the same spot. It was so… annoying the effect she was having on her. Why come at her like that? What was she trying to accomplish? All that just to get under her skin? If that was the plan it looked like it backfired… or did she really…

Want her to come back?

She heard the pressure release of tires and the creak of a pneumatic doors, and looked over her shoulder to see the bus was there, humming at the overhang.

Harrow broke into stride and walked down the hill. Guess her 16 minutes were up. She’d lost track of time.

She took her seat, only one older lady on her left who sneezed into a hanky (missing mostly) as she sat. Harrow merely furled her lip.

Perfect. This day couldn’t get any better.

As she sighed and settled into her seat she felt a vibration in her pocket from her phone, and was wholly ready to see the tag for Gideon and block her number. But instead… Priamhark N. scrolled across in the text bubble. Her hand clutched and loosened in a burst around the device. Unsure if she should answer or chuck it. That deep pit in her stomach become bottomless and she realized this day had one last inconvenience in store for her.

Whenever her father texted her, it was never going to be over a casual topic.

*********

As Gideon parked she heard the tires reach a squeal that echoed in her ears and off the neighboring houses next door. The red in her peripherals was creeping in and consuming her sight lines.

She felt that familiar pull of anger begging for her permission. It wanted out. 

She took long steps around the side of Aiglamene’s house to the shed in the back that had become her home. She brushed aside the tarp she’d hung to replace the door and wished she’d fixed it sooner to have something to slam in the moment.

Her thoughts were too loud. Deafening. Most days she’d plug in her buds, crank up her boombox, maybe even put on her old cassette player. Play something at full volume that had feeling and harmony and hatred drowning on the end of the piano strings and drum solos. Something that too told her she wasn’t alone, and freed her from the solitude of her own self-hatred. But she was already boiling over. The red wanted out.

She looked around the quiet space and some part of herself pulled the trigger to make sounds that matched her heart beat. Erratic. Messy. Violent.

Her hands reached for the bookshelf by the ‘door’ and threw it forward with minimal resistance. Even with it stuffed chock-full of textbooks, cd’s, a coin jar, her anger compensated for any perceived weight. They all collided with the floor and made a symphony of shatters. Each playing a part of her anthem. The papers tearing like the chimes. The glass shatter the cymbals. The wooden frame the bass drum. The books the snare. The coins rolling away into corners far from her, the synth. She stared at the mess she made and only felt a slight pang of regret behind the heat still burning her insides.

The chorus demanded an encore.

Gideon grabbed a crate from under the bed, sliding it forward in its own reverb, before hurling it and whatever was in through the tarp that served as her makeshift entrance. The fwap it made as it scraped off the plastic material was like a stringed melody overtop the various crunches of plastic and metal as it came down in a heap of sod. The contents being strung across the ground, stringing its own trill of dissonant disco.

She frowned, still not finding serenity and grabbed a rake off the wall, winding it up over her head and smashing the metal prongs into the ground like a farewell to a guitar solo that hadn’t been. Guess she’d skipped to the after party, as she watched the teeth scrape and bend in useless ways, taking away whatever was once function and was now simply mangled.

She grunted as she wound again, making another unsatisfactory impact as the handle wobbled in her hand, shifting the angle to more and more marred.

“You done yet?” Aiglamene’s harsh voice cut through the space.

Gideon turned over her shoulder to see the chiseled face and hardened scowl of her ‘guardian.’

“What’s it to ya?” She said panting and standing up straighter.

“A useable rake apparently.” Aiglamene said, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed and a sigh. 

The internal tempo was slowing. Gideon breathed slower. Vision returned from the red. She sighed again.

“It doesn’t break that well anyway.” She said finally, looking back at the grey hair, knee brace, and dark sweats of the woman that was the closest thing to family. She was a grizzled bitch, yeah, but she had a way of calling Gideon on her shit. That might be needed in the moment.

“Good for you. You’ll be fixing it or replacing it, your call.” Aiglamene said with a shrug.

“Add it to the list.” She grumbled. Her debts to her always seemed to be piling up. “Or just kick me to the curb already.”

Aiglamene sighed.

“You back to playing the victim?” she asked.

Gideon scowled at her now, clenching her fist and feeling the bruises and swelling from her earlier outbursts. Aiglamene noticed too.

She sighed again, as if exasperated air were her calling card, and reached into a box by the door to pull out two sets of worn and fading boxing gloves. One in red and one in black. 

She tossed the red ones to Gideon and started stringing the others on her own mitts. Already braking one of her cardinal sins of gloves without tape, but Gideon could tell she was doing so to make a point.

“You been practicing? On things other than walls?” She asked gruffly.

“You know I haven’t.” Gideon mumbled, sliding her own hands into the familiar fabric. She could instantly smell the sweat that had been absorbed into the material over the years.

“Then this will be embarrassing for you.” She said sliding into an easy starting stance, her weight favored off the leg with the knee brace. But Gideon knew better than to underestimate that. Bad knee or not she could spring off that thing any second.

“We’ll see about that.” Gideon said, returning to her own stance. They settled into the easy jab, jab combo. Throw a left then a right, the partner blocked, then they threw another wider on each side and the partner ducked and leaned. Then they switched. The other would throw the jabs while their partner blocked and bobbed

Aiglamene gave her the wave to throw the first punch and Gideon went slow, easing into the routine of it. Heard the slight imprint of the material and felt the satisfying resistance of a thing, before arching through air. Aiglamene took her swings back, not as slow as Gideon took hers, and she quickly snapped her arms up to cover. She always meant business.

They crossed a few more patterns. Overlapping each other and hitting harder and softer. Varying the pressure and timing of it to throw each other off while still keeping rhythm.

“So... you wanna talk about it?” Aiglamene finally said. With a tone that said she’d rather be doing anything else, but was obliged to participate in this parental moment.

“What’s there to talk about?” Gideon returned.

“You know.” Aiglamene retorted. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Nothing to report.” Gideon swung again as she leaned back. Only a hair ahead this time.

“Nothing wouldn’t have broken my rake and half your shit.” Aiglamene said again, her hits harder and shaking Gideon’s legs a bit on impact.

“It’s nothing now.”

Aiglamene sighed again.

“You know there’s a saying.” Her impacts softened. “The three hardest things in the world to say... I’m sorry... I need help... and Worcestershire sauce.”

Gideon deadpanned on the last line.

“I said sorry.”

“Did you?” Aiglamene raised an eyebrow. “Or did you say ‘can this be over,’ cause they’re not the same thing and a lot of people seem to think they are.”

Gideon grit her teeth.

“Well why should I be the one always apologizing? She said some fucked up shit too.” She swung harder and now Aiglamene counted and swung back. Gideon took the first hit in the chest before deflecting the follow up. Now they swung with less pattern. Looking for opportunities. Say what you would about the crusty old bitch, but she could throw a punch.

“I’m not countering that. But who ran who out of a car?” Aiglamene said, leaning back from an opening and stepping out of her combat stance.

Gideon’s response died on her lip as a groan of anger.

“I’m not saying either side is innocent in this.” She continued. “I’m sure she pushed you there and you responded like-“ She nodded to the knocked over bookshelf clump. “But... if you want to fix this you might have to be the first one to really apologize about it.”

“What if I don’t?” She said with hushed spite, balling her fists into the leather material and hearing it creak against her strain.

“Then cut your ties and let yourself finally be free of her.” Aiglamene said with a shrug, beginning to untie the laces at her wrists and stepping back to the door, depositing the gloves in their same dusty container.

That thought was... strange. She could just say fuck it, leave things broken. She knew that. Harrow had always been the unstoppable force to her unmovable object. She could finally shift to the side and let her glide past her. She could.

She really could.

“But I’ll tell ya... the worlds full of lonely people waiting for someone else to make the first move.” Aiglamene said turning through the flap and holding it open to look back at her with those old grey eyes. “Decide if this is someone you’re ok with cutting ties with.”

Gideon hung her head.

“Your left cross is too wide. Bring in your elbow.” Aiglamene added as she went.

“What if she wont come back?” Gideon said, quiet and honest and frown scowled more for herself than at the goth in her mind sneering back at her. “I drove her away.”

And she had. Yeah Harrow had pissed her off, but she knew the truth. She escalated. She could have stopped or backtracked or told her to knock it off. But she didn’t. She uncorked.

Aiglamene merely shrugged as she disappeared out of the shed.

“Drive her back.”

*********

Harrow walked sleepily in the morning grey to the bus stop, about 8 blocks from her house. The request from her father had been menial enough, which was a relief. She had the bag of items he’d requested to send off to her parents at the on-site shipping center between classes. The texts had been formal and few. And blessedly so. It was all she could stomach at the moment.

Speaking of…

As she neared the bus stop there, yet again, dressed in black chained pants, a black sleeveless muscle shirt, and those damn gloves… one persistently pestering former co-pilot.

Unbe-fucking-lievable.

No matter. The bus was do in 5 minutes, give or take, she wasn’t going to have enough time to derail her entire day. Or she better not. Harrow grit her teeth, ready to endure.

But when she came closer to the driver, leaning against the side of her car and staring off into the foggy morning, she saw her body posture was… different than the day before. Less agitated? It was hard to explain…

When Gideon’s eyes cut over to her she saw she’d forgone the sunglasses and looked relatively… genuine for the first time since they’d had their falling out.

“Hey Harr.” She said, leaning forward off the side of her car door and stepping slowly over to her. Reading her for how close she could get, and stopping once she saw Harrow’s brow scowl further. “I uh, I’m here…” Her words ended cautiously as she was shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“So you are.” Harrow said, letting the bite die down. She’d been ready to launch at her but something about her posture seemed… sincere? Which was annoying. It’d be easier to stay mad at her if she didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

“Um… so…” Gideon put her hand up behind her neck and scratched, a weak attempt at looking casual. “Look, I’m sorry. Ok?” She sighed as if the words had been crushing her lungs for the better part of 8 days and were suddenly lifted.

Harrow said nothing

“I know that probably doesn’t make us right as rain, I mean I’m still pretty fucking miffed at you, but still… I just want to drive you to campus. We don’t have to like each other. We don’t have to talk. Hell, I won’t even play music.” She kicked at a dirt patch on the ground, looking surprisingly… vulnerable. “What do ya think?”

And there was a moment where Harrow felt herself considering… going back with her. Giving them another chance… 

And then her better judgement kicked in and slammed the book shut on that naivety, for hopefully the final time. Better to rip these pages out, shred them, and find a new book all together. One with less food stains, eye rolls, and screaming matches.

“Pass.” She said firmly. Hoping this would be the end of it. She hated to admit that all these attempts were wearing down her certainty.

Gideon sighed and hung her head, looking… hurt? But expectant. 

“Got it… well…” She pursed her lip to one side in a lopsided, thoughtful frown. “I might just follow the bus. In case you change your mind.”

“Creep.” Harrow said blankly, and Gideon rolled her eyes waving her hand dismissively.

“I’m not dangerous like that Harr, come on.. I’m just… trying to make it right. And be there if you change your mind.” She insisted.

“I won’t.” She assured. Feeling the uncertainty spread. This book was… rather resolute in trying to rewrite itself.

“You always say that… but then sometimes you do.” Gideon shrugged. Looking surprisingly chipper for someone getting shot down, yet again. “Crazier things have happened right?”

Harrow found she didn’t have a refutal ready. She was searching. Scanning all her files for ‘Griddle Insults’ and coming up blank somehow.

But thankfully the bus was pulling up to the stop. Gideon looked over her shoulder in acknowledgement as it parked and the doors slid open.

“You’re free to waste your time if you wish.” Harrow said, turning toward the door and walking briskly away from her. Away from the confusing feelings in her chest at the entire conversation. It was easier when she was telling her to cuss her out, fueling her fire, not standing there like kindling that refused to catch.

“Hmm… thank you for that my mistress of gloom.” But she muttered it with more affection than malice. What the hell was happening?

Harrow quickened her pace as if that would make the bus leave quicker and took her seat right past the water cooler as usual, slamming her books down in her lap and pressing her back all the way into the plastic seat with a deep exhale. The bus was mostly empty, besides a man having a moderate conversation with himself in the third row back.

As she chanced a peek out the window she saw Gideon getting in the door to her car and catching her eye with a wave before taking her seat and turning her car lights on. She was really going to do this.

It was so… strange. Harrow had hurt her. Purposefully. Precisely. The way only she could… and she’d hated herself for it. It was easier to keep going when she hated her too. But now… she was the one apologizing? None of it made sense.

So she leaned back in her seat and determined she would not look out the window again for the rest of the ride. She had no doubt that if she said she would do it she would be at every bloody stop. An unfortunate quality of hers to follow through on the things she set her mind to.

Instead of letting her thoughts dig too deep she let her mind latch onto the other sources of sound nearby. And rather than it being the hum of the bus or the mindless conversation of one in the back she ended up throwing herself into the radio. Whatever song was playing was bass heavy. Simple. Like a recipe of 3 ingredients or less. But… oddly satisfying. Like egg salad.

The song continued, and Harrow found herself counting the beats to have something to distract her. By the time the drums kicked in they were driving away and by the time the vocals kicked in, she broke and peered back out the window to indeed see the headlights following a safe distance behind.

“I wish I could eat the salt off of your last faded lips

We can cap the old times, make playing only logical harmmmm

We can cap the old lines make plain that nothing else will changeeee.”

His words were nonsensical, the vocals rising and somehow echoing at the same time. It was just like music. Just like Gideon. To be preposterously out in left field all the damn time.

But… when her mind faltered she looked down to see her foot was tapping along to the beat as the chorus wrapped back into the bass line.

“She can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she’s badddd.

Oh, she’s baddd.”

Chapter Text

Gideon’s alarm went off at 3:55am, blaring in the small space from beside her and she grabbed blindly catching only air. She finally found the snooze button, thumping it with a heavy arm, and groaning awakish. Blinking slowly in the lack of light, she struggled to determine if it was just that dark or if her eyes just hadn’t open.

The alarm blared at 4:03am and this time she blinked frantically, confused on how and when she’d fallen back asleep. But this time she rubbed her eyes and sat up, seeing stars pressed against the back of her eyelids from where she pressed her palms. She flicked on the lamp and winced at the harshness of the light cutting through the grismal space before groaning a deep sleepy sigh that came from deep beneath her lungs. She proceeded to push herself up on hands that were still stiff with the nature of being hardly woken.

In the single lamplight, that’s really all that was out here, she got ready on the groggiest autopilot. Pulling off her night clothes and smell checking a shirt from her hamper. Clean enough was the consensus. Her still healing hand slid into the glove, less puffy now, and she tripped over her boots with a swear in the dark but found them nonetheless. She bent to lace them and gave up almost immediately. What were the odds she tripped?

The pulled on a button up as she made her way out the door (tarp) and to the car. One sleeve on by the time she reached the door, the other awkwardly crammed into meet it. Buttons meeting the same fate as the laces.

Driving at 4 am Drearburh had the benefit of ignoring lights because they ran for show more than people, and she made quick time to the coffee shop in the corner of town.

Two dollars and two minutes later she walked back out with her coffees and a handful of creamer packets for her own, then checked her clock on the dash as soon as she sat, spilling some of the hot coffee from the lid as she set it in it’s cupholder and sucking it off her thumb with a groan.

4 minutes behind schedule. She peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of her tires. She blasted her song a little higher. Hoping the sound would keep her focused on something other than how good the back of her eyelids looked.

So give me a chance

I can prove I’m changing my plans

All for you, I’ll wait til it hurts

But the clock I swear it don’t work

Time is moving so slow-oh-oh-oh-oh

Gideon pulled up to the bus stop only a minute after she liked to and shifted into park, leaning back in her seat and draining half of her cup of piping hot liquid. The burn did good to wake her. She sighed something deep and knew to expect the bus and it’s passenger in the next 6-12 minutes, precisely. So she tapped along to the song as it had restarted, she presumably bumped the rewind button, and tried to remember what classes she had today. If yesterday was Chem today… did she have a test in Humanities today? No that was after the weekend. Did she have a shift to pick up? She might… She’d have to text Marshall. She hated texting Marshall.

By the third time the song came on she was noticing that not only was her phone stuck on loop… no one was showing. Even as the grey of the morning became less grey… there wasn’t anybody at the bus stop. Not just no Nonagessimus. No loiterer’s. No disgruntled looking workers. No… bus.

The hell?

She pulled out her phone to confirm the time on her dash hadn’t gone AWOL, and saw the date stamp at the corner of her screen. Saturday. It was a Saturday. The bus didn’t run on Saturdays, nor would Nonagessimus be needing to board it, nor did Gideon need to go to campus, nor, if it weren’t obvious… did she need to be up at all.

She pushed a hand across her face and through her hair with a groan. Then pressed a finger to the button on her door, lowering her window, and took the second cup of coffee in hand to unceremoniously dump out the contents. Then she shifted back to Drive as the song started a fourth time, before pulling out of her spot and heading home. Great fucking start to the day.

*********

Harrowhark had become used to the visage of Gideon’s car beside the bus on the way to and from school, and saw it now. Sitting idle, about 2 cars lengths behind the humming transport. She was always there like a constant. Sitting in the drivers seat. She’d look up when Harrow was close enough and if Harrow met her eye offer a wave, if she didn’t- well then Harrow didn’t know what she did. She tried to look at her less and less.

Gideon had not approached her again since the first day she followed the bus. Which was… she was losing track… almost two weeks ago? And the longer this charade went, the more the young Nonagesimus found it frustrating.

She hadn’t deigned speak to Gideon, committing to the space growing between them as it cyclically would, and ultimately should. It’d been like that in pre-k, then again in high school, now again in college . They were destined to drift. She just had to let them. And tolerate the tugging orbit as she persisted.

Today at the end of a long lecture prematured by another long lecture she chanced a quick glance at the old Dodge Dart as she hurried toward the bus.

Her peripherals drifted to Gideon, though she wished they didn’t, and she realized she looked tired. Really tired. Even from this distance. She was staring pointedly ahead behind her sunglasses at the bus, head pressed back into the recliner, arm tensely on the steering wheel as if holding her up. And she was remarkably still. By Gideon standards that was alarming. Harrow furrowed her brow before reminding herself that she didn’t care, and briskly finished boarding the bus.

Her usual spot near the front was available and she took it with a sigh, sinking into the plastic seat with the air of dignity such an act allotted. From this spot she could only catch a sliver of Gideon’s car, and she reproachfully found herself staring at it as the bus waited for any straggler passengers.

She pulled out her phone, impatiently and for some reason opened up her text messages.

She scrolled almost against her will to Gideon Nav, felt a slight pang at seeing co-pilot listed under it, and clicked.

Why are you doing this?

She typed, thumbs filling in questions that had plagued her and hitting send before better judgement could get ahold of her.

Her response came equally quick.

I told you. In case you change your mind.

At that Harrow frowned.

You’ll waste your time, gas, and sanity, on then slim chance I change my mind?

Looks like it princess.

Why?

The dots typed, then stopped. Then typed. Then stopped again. She tapped her foot, a little offendedly, before the bus started and she decidedly jammed her phone back into her bag. She needed to stop feeding into this.

Otherwise she focused on her studies. Her parents delayed their return flight to Drearburh, instead adding on another conference circuit. She had been receiving more updated lists from them for things to mail out to their various stops. It was annoying, being the errand girl for absent parents but… she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be around them either.

I’m better alone. Always have been . She swallowed the truth down. Still, disdainfully, checking her phone one last time to see there was indeed, no further response.

When the bus arrived to Drearburh stop Gideon’s car was a bit behind and she had a moment… one single second where she was tempted to walk to her car. To lean in the window and ask her what the hell was going on, and why she was still doing this, and why she looked so tired all the damn time. But thankfully she caught herself, turned in a breath, and moved purposefully over the hill and away from the road. She walked stride over stride, back straight, head high.

And then one nagging impulse had her turn over her shoulder. Just a bit. It should be imperceptible to the driver who’d be looking, and if she had any reaction from here she would simply sneer or squint or give her an off-putting look to take away her victory. Instead she saw Gideon’s shadow, sloped against the steering wheel, unmoving. She could’ve sworn in that glimpse that Gideon had fallen asleep at the wheel. But that was preposterous. Even she wasn’t that dense.

*********

Gideon came to with a start, leaning against the steering wheel and sitting up so quick she banged her head on the roof of her car.

“Wha- agh !” She rubbed the top of her head and groaned. “Fuckkkk.” There was some drool dried on her chin that she brushed off with the back of her hand and shifting the car into park with a grumble.

She rubbed both hands over her face and waited for the foggy sensation of partial sleep to fade.

Her phone buzzed and she patted her pockets, confusedly trying to locate it until fishing it out of her jeans to see a notification from her boss.

“Shit.”

Shift in 5. Where the hell are u?

“Shit.” He was a classicly hardass kinda guy. The type to assume you were late before you were.

At your moms-

Gideon typed before biting her lip and backspacing. It wasn’t worth provoking. She groaned again and sent a quick-

Omw

Omw what? You here or not?

It means on my way Crux

She sent back, before groaning once again, this time at the sky, and just at life in general. She put her phone down in its cup holder, shifted into drive, and skidded across town. Fuck, she was tired.

The next day she did her usual, grabbed her two coffees, realized she forgot the creamer, said fuck it, and drove through blurry eyes to campus. The drives were lonely with only her sleep-riddled brain for company. And her thoughts were just empty most days. Too tired between finding out her scholarships weren’t coming through, to replaying her talks with Harrow, to trying to remember what class she was going to. She’d walked to the wrong one more than once in the last few weeks.

A car cut her off as the pulled near the bus loop and she swerved, spilling half a cup of hot coffee across her lap.

“ Ahhh ! Ffffff- perfect.” She grumbled, seeing the stain already forming on her dark pants. God she had to do laundry.

She shifted instead to the lot next to it and parked, feeling her heart beat rather weakly and taking a deep breath. Another fucking day.

She hoisted herself out of the car, bones weary, slid on her backpack with it falling awkwardly on her shoulder, and kicking the door closed.

Gideon turned toward the bus and walked on weird, uneven steps to the door as students unloaded.

And off walked Harrow blinking in surprise, looking immediately on guard at her proximity.

Shit. This wasn’t how they did things. She was breaking the rules of their new routine. And she probably looked like shit, even from behind her frosted shades.

Harrow froze one step off the bus and looked at her, decidedly between fight and flight, Gideon looked instead through the door and nodded to the driver. For something to do if nothing else.

“Craig.” She nodded.

“Gideon.” He nodded back.

The fact that in her three weeks of bus tailing she’d gotten to know the driver was probably a bad sign of obsession.

“Why do you have two coffees?” Harrow asked. And it was the first words she had spoken to Gideon in weeks. First words that weren’t an insult since even longer. She thought she’d imagined it for a moment.

She turned to her thinking this was the big moment. She’d finally say something. But words caught in her throat like a bundle of unwashed socks, and having her look at her fully after pretending she hadn’t existed for the past 3 weeks made her feel like a window with no wind, just ‘ow.’

Fuck, say something . Gideon thought. She looked at that pinched up little face and felt a lot of things boil to the surface. Feeling the question and answer burning away. Feeling panicked she’d been caught.

“No reason.” She said abruptly, and turned around to the waste bin, tossing both coffees in and walking away in the same breath.

What the fuck are you doing Nav??

She was screaming in her mind. Fists clenched at her side.

The first time she talks to you and you blow it? Just say ‘I got you a coffee’ or tell her a lie, tell her anything- just! ARGH. You’re a fucking idiot Griddle…

Her mind conjured all of this together, even spiting herself with the nickname she had never liked but maybe missed… fuck, she didn’t deserve to be Griddle with her behavior lately. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be…

She really missed the coffee she’d thrown away.

“Class dismissed.” Profesor Quinn said, smiling with his arms reclined back on the desk behind him as the students filed out. Gideon was moving slow anyway and was in no hurry to hustle as her mind was trying to calculate her gpa with this new bummer of a grade attached. She botched the shit outta the project, and she knew it. Third one in a row…

“Gideon, was wondering if you could spare a minute?” Magnus Quinn called to her as majority of the students had left and she was one of the few stragglers still in the auditorium. She made eye contact and nodded, not seeing much a way out if it.

Magnus had been one of the professors she didn’t want to drown out. He was kind, clever, and cared about his students. Her included. She knew she’d been slipping but had hoped it would go unnoticed. Apparently not…

“How are things?”

“Fine.” Clearly , she thought sardonically as she tried to avoid his eye.

He hummed, not in a judgey way, and gave away nothing.

“I wanted to ask you about the last reading. What was your favorite part?”

His smiled was earnest. And she earnestly hadn’t read the thing, so she shrugged instead.

“Nothing really stuck.”

“Darn, thats a shame. This one I thought would be right up your alley. You know my favorite part? The reason I always love teaching this bit?”

She shook her head, obviously not knowing.

“There’s a single line that I just can not get out of my head. One Flesh, One End. ” Magnus said with grit enthusiasm. The kind of awed stage-whisper reserved for reverence.

“What’s it mean?”

“It means no bullshit.” He said with an upturned smile. “At least that’s my archaic translation for it. The whole poem is about duty and connection, and ends in a final line, kind of tying it all together. But see here’s the thing…” the sheer animation of watching this man talk about literature was almost enough to convince Gideon it was worth the effort of reading it to begin with.

“I like to think of it as a conversation.” His eyes sparkled as he said it, leaning in conspiratorially with near mischief in his eyes.

“The poem is a conversation?” Gideon said, not wanting to make it too obvious she was fucking lost.

“Well, theoretically. It has only the one author, but it’s about devotion. Devotion to what? To whom? It’s open ended of course, but devotion like that has to be accepted. Returned. Fealty yields favor. Who’s favor? We can only speculate… but that’s the fun of poetry, isn’t it? The speculation.”

Honestly, Gideon didn’t think it was that much fun at all. Just words in weird orders designed to baffle the modern mind, but… he sure seemed to think it was special. And she could get behind his conviction if nothing else.

“So… how’s the conversation go?” She said, shifting her weight on her foot and holding her backpack a little tighter. Now trying to hide how invested she’d become in his answer.

“Hmm…” he hummed, affirming she’d answered right. “Well, I always imagine it different ways, but the conversation happens, the knight makes their vow. One Flesh, One End… the ultimate, pardon my french, badass, mic-drop moment.” He was now moving his hands as if parting fog, becoming more and more of a caricature and pulling a smile to Gideon’s weary self.

“And… what’s there to say to the ultimate mic drop moment?” A pause as he soaked in the drama of holding off the answer, and her clearly enraptured in the response. “Beyond repeating it back to them.”

He smiled, hands curling as if he’s conducted the perfect orchestra.

“One Flesh, One End. No bullshit. No second thoughts, no seconds at all, only firsts. One. And they are met with… One Flesh, One End… right back…” he was now staring up to the rafters basking in his own minds eyes. Gideon wondered if he’d forgotten she was here all together before his eyes snapped back to her, breaking their magical little glow. “That, is the power of poetry. Expressing the things in you that words could get in the way of. Expressing something bigger than words all together… no bullshit.”

Gideon took a breath… now staring at the floor in borderline awe. Maybe it was her insomniac brain just pulling one of its final straws, but… it was certainly doing something.

She didn’t notice he’d moved closer til he clasped her on the shoulder, smiling like a proud dad.

“I want you to do well in the class, but more than that I really want you to find a love for words. And you know why?”

She shook her head once to say no, eyes never leaving his.

“Because stories… show us we’re not alone.”

She really hoped he missed the sharp inhale she just took. But from this distance, seemed unlikely. He mercifully patted her shoulder again and moved back to his desk.

“Listen, I won’t count that last grade. As long as, you write me something new. Deal?”

He said this all over his shoulder as he dug through drawers, looking for something. She exhaled again, clinging to this new lifeline.

“Deal. What do I write instead?” She said, readjusting her grip on her bag strap for like the fourth time.

“Whatever comes to your mind when you readddddd this !” He stretched the word until he pulled a small book satisfactorily from his drawer and held it over his head like he’d discovered a treasure map.

“Emily Dickinson?” Gideon asked, coming closer and checking the title.

“She’s one of my favorites, and I think she’ll be one of yours.” Magnus said with a smile. “No word count, no parameters. Just put whatever feel’s right on the page.”

“What if nothing feels right?” Gideon asked, accepting the thin book and flipping it over in her hand.

“Then write that. Write nothing felt right, and tell me why. But do this and it’ll swap out this last grade, deal?”

Gideon eyed him, her nature typically suspicious, but she found herself incredibly disarmed by him.

“Really one of your favorites, huh?” She asked holding it closer to her chest to show her acceptance and he beamed.

“Really. One flesh, one end.” No bullshit.

She smirked at the shared joke and nodded. “Deal. One flesh, one end.”

*********

Harrow had a missed call. She never missed their calls. But her last class had gone long with a guest speaker  and now she was hustling to the bus. Harrow hated hustling.

On top of that, she missed their call. She never missed a call.

As all this was happening she was fishing around for her phone when she saw the bus across the path was closing its doors. That, couldn’t happen.

If she missed the bus she’d never be able to make it to the post office on time to deliver their newest requests. And failing them had also… never happened. It was the one thing she could never allow herself to do.

She hurried, which she detested even more than hustling, and now felt some panic mixing with annoyance.

The sound of the bus creaking to life with the release of air above the tires alerted her, and it started humming out of the lane by the bench, and Harrow still wasn’t on it. She couldn’t believe how this day had gone… reduced to chasing a bus…

And then a black dodge dart with a red door came scurrying around the side of the bus and cut it off sharply, it’s tires squealing against the pavement and the bus lurching to a halt. Harrow froze in place too.

What… was she pulling?

The bus honked once and then she saw the flip of a hand through the window, a roll of the wrist as if to say hurry up. It was geared at her, even from here, and she broke the sudden surprise to continue crossing the last 50 or so yards until she was at the door.

The driver, Craig, saw her and rolled his eyes with a sarcastic smile. But then he looked ahead to where she assumed he could see Gideon and chuckled. He leaned into his control and shifted the door, opening it with the pneumatic thwap she’d grown accustomed to.

“Well? Get on then. Don’t think we’ll be leaving without ya.” Craig said with a smirk. Eyes weary but amused.

Harrow boarded, feeling confused, and saw the Dodge Dart before her with that big lug’s silhouette leaning back over the arm rest to get a look and quickly turning away when she saw Harrow. She honked twice with a little chirp and Craig chuckled, honking back with the much louder bus horn, and Harrow walked on odd feet to take a seat at her usual spot. No one else on the bus seemed much bothered, most of them reclined from the day in their non-plush seats, or scrolling on their devices.

She looked out the window and saw that same car wheel around the loop and come to sit behind the bus. Back in its usual position. Tailing a safe distance behind. But… why?

Harrow flushed in her cheeks, frustratedly turning away from the car and its driver. What was this? What was she playing at?

She turned to her phone to finally comment back to her parents, but instead found herself scrolling to Gideon Nav and opening their last unfinished conversation.

I don’t need your help Griddle.

She would be beholden to no one.

Geez, youre welcome

I haven’t thanked you, nor do I plan to. I would have been fine without your involvement in my life.

She felt anger at she knew not what directing itself through her thumbs as she typed.

And that goes beyond today.

It was a low blow. She threw it anyway. Gideon’s bubbles started and stopped a few times, probably coming up with her own half-cocked comeback.

Instead it simply said,

Why are you making this so hard on me? I’m just trying to help you out

Perfectly believable, perfectly fair. But Harrow was taking neither of those in stride.

If she’d missed the bus it would have been the perfect excuse for Gideon to try and roll in like a knight in shining armor. And with her parents looming call she may have cracked enough to consider…

Why try and help? Aren’t I just a ‘bone bitch of a burden?’

I don’t remember calling you that, but that’s nice alliteration

Wow, quite the big word. Did it give you a headache sounding that out?

See this is what I’m talking about. You’re trying to lose me by being cruel, but it’s not going to work. I know your tricks twerp.

She grit her teeth. She was correct, though she loathed admitting it, and Harrow was actively shaking her off her like mud on her boots. Only… she wasn’t mud… she was something more persistent. Clay perhaps…

Why won’t you let me go?

The bus lurched and she looked over her shoulder to see the shape of the car still sitting in park. The dots did not start typing. And the conversation had ended, but she was not ready for it to. She grit her teeth and seethed a sharp little cry that was barely audible as the emotions were rearing their heads yet again. This was what Griddle did, she made her irrational.

Nothing about it made sense from the angle she was looking, and she was too proud or chicken shit to look at it from any other.

Her phone finally buzzed and she held it up with hope or fury to see what Gideon had said, only to instead see a notification from her mother. Like a splash of cold water.

You didn’t answer the phone.

The role of placid daughter was washing back over her.

Apologies, on the bus.

Bus? Aren’t you in an arrangement with the foster girl?

She grit her teeth. Arrangement. That’s all it had ever been.

Postal trips were not part of the arrangement. I do not include her in these.

It was a bit of a lie, but it was the terms her parents would understand and acknowledge.

I see. Then you have our updated list?

Yes. You may send it again if you wish me to compare to my own, but I will be sending the items shortly.

Excellent. We will be awaiting confirmation codes once shipped.

Understood.

She sighed on the last punctuation. This was how it was. This was how it always had been. This was how it was meant to go. She shouldn’t forget her purpose in all this.

This was simply for the best. Though… she regretfully found herself checking her texts one last time for a certain red dot to appear…

It never did.

*********

Gideon’s midday lecture was canceled and she’d been dragged, (half-willingly, wholly desperate) to the library with a certain Palamedes Sextus. They sat at a small table in a relatively secluded corner with forms upon forms.

She’d asked him on a whim if he may know what to do when financial aid was revoked, and he had moved swiftly with ideas. Looking up scholarships and loans and programs she might qualify for. Now they were sitting in a library, a place Gideon had never been, with forms spread across the table, scrap paper torn and balled up, and a laptop on Pal’s part as he scanned for more and more potential solutions. Honestly it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her.

“So these are just some of the basics. You should at least be able to get the Bell grant for sure, that’s an easy one. You just have to enter your name, date of birth, social security, and a bit of financial information into this form and voila . $500.”

“Social security number…” Gideon said, pausing her pencil mid S, leaving a weird crescent shape unclosed.

“Do you not know your social security number?” He said a little uncertainly, and with a cocked eyebrow.

“69.” Gideon said, turning her eyes back to the page.

“Nav, this is serious. You’re gonna need that for all of these.” He gestured across the table at their mess.

She paused to rub a palm over her face, the day catching up to her. Days. Plural. Probably all of them, honestly, stretching back to the womb.

“Is there a way for you to get that? Bec-“

“I don’t know, ok?” She said, snapping a bit. “I don’t know if the foster system gives a shit what your social security number is when the only number they care about is how many beds they still have.”

She rested her forehead against her hand and sighed from her shoulders past that lump of restricted shit-trauma she didn’t normally visit.

Palamedes paused.

“Let’s change the subject. Just help me spell ‘definitely,’ I never seem to get it right.” Gideon continued on.

He still hadn’t made any sound. No sighs. No brush of his glasses over his sweater.

“D-E-F, I know that part but from there...” She sighed, leaning over her notes, which were a bunch of lies as to why she deserved money, and started tapping her fingers anxiously.

“Have you heard the expression, burning the candle at both ends?” He asked, testing the waters.

“Sounds like a piss poor candle.” She grumbled.

“It means you’re overdoing it Nav.” He said a little louder, which surprised her that he had the ability to not use his inside voice in the library. That seemed to go against his core of following every sacred rule.

“You think I don’t know that?” Gideon said back. She wasn’t stupid, regardless of what certain people thought. She could see what her life had become. “But what choice to I have?” She outstretched the hand with the pencil to point in his direction. Challenging him to respond.

“I think you know.” Palamedes said severely, lowering his head and wiping his glasses on his shirt before pressing them back onto his nose, over those grey pensive eyes. “I also know you’re not gonna like hearing it, so please don’t make me say it.”

She pursed her lips into a thin line, and turned her gaze away from him and he sighed annoyedly.

“Gideon, come on. I know you can’t quit your job, not until we get this sorted out.” He pointed with his pen between them to the forms on the table. “And obviously you can’t quit school, but you can quit-“

“ Drop it .” She said.

“No, you need to hear it after all.” He said, fired up. “Look Nav, you have to stop chasing after busses to and from Dreaburh at all hours of the day on the whim of someone who does not want your attention .”

“Oh fuck you, gimme a-“

“Nav, stop being the victim for a moment.” Palamedes said putting up a hand to cut her off as her agitation must’ve been apparent. “What’s the long term plan here? Have you thought passed the mornings of wash, rinse, repeat? How far does this go?”

“I…” Ok truthfully, she hadn’t thought it through. “I don’t know, ok? I just thought…” She swallowed, the words getting caught in her throat. Thought she’d come around… Thought she’d give her a chance… But maybe it was pointless…

Maybe she didn’t deserve the chance… said the mean little voice in the back of her head. Even as she was loathe to admit that she wanted it in the first place.

“I’m not saying it’s fair.” Palamedes emphasized, a bit more sympathy to his tone. “I think Nonagesimus is being a bit extreme in all this, but if she doesn’t want this you can’t force it on her.”

Fuck. He was right.

He reached across the table and gave her shoulder a tentative squeeze. “And you shouldn’t keep beating yourself up. Even if she won’t forgive you, you’ve offered your apology. You can’t make her take it. But you have to draw your line.”

Fuck… he was right. Again.

All she could see was all the times of Harrow. Not just her scrunched up face in the passenger seat, but her taking a waffle fry. Her humming Lizzo. Her in the hallways of highschool catching her eye and never backing down. Her getting partnered up in science class and chewing the end of her pencil. Her little tight face on the playground when a group of unsuspecting boys were making fun of her for being short… and Gideon having none of that shit.

The memories came faster now that she’d opened the door. She forgot how much of her past was laced with beady black eyes.

“Draw my line, huh?” She said absently, lost in her reminiscence.

Palamedes nodded.

“And if she won’t cross it?” She asked, a dryness spreading deep in the back of her throat strong enough to make her eyes sting.

“Then you go your separate ways for now.”

She didn’t like the answer. Loathed the possibility that all this had been for naught.

But it was true. This strategy clearly wasn’t working. It was getting ridiculous, really, how burned out she was. And she was going to fuck up the last chance to make something of herself by driving after a girl who didn’t want her. Who had never seemed to want her...

She sighed.

“Alright brainiac, we’ll try it your way. Not like mines working all that well for me.”

Palamedes nodded, looking relieved he’d gotten through to her.

“Got any tips on where to start?” She asked.

He put a thoughtful finger to his chin.

“Hmm… well, what is your baseline knowledge of Quantum Physics?”

Gideon deadpanned. She should have expected something along those lines, this was honestly on her more than him.

“Do you have to fucking ask?”

He sighed and removed his glasses, cleaning them on his sweater for the umpteenth time, chuckling with a shake of the head.

“Ok, then let’s start from the beginning.”

“And why are we-“

“Trust me, it’ll make your point to Nonagesimus. Logic cures many a struggles of the heart, and if you want to get through to her you need to speak her language.”

*********

“So, you gonna end this anytime soon?”

Harrow frowned, looking over to see the figure of Camila standing beside her, having practically appeared out of nothing. Arms crossed, body language impartial.

“If she asked you to talk to me-“

“That’s not what happened.” She cut her off with a shake of her head and further blank expression. “This is just common courtesy. I’m tired of her walking around like a wounded puppy. This is for my own investment.”

Harrow turned to keep walking, not interested in this conversation. Camila didn’t seem to take that as enough. She followed, even pace, unbothered.

“You should probably give her a break. I’m sure she was as uncouth as one could be, but she cares. That’s something.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.” Harrow said over her shoulder, not looking back.

“You’re winning no moral high ground here, you’re simply shutting the door on someone because of stature or status and that’s pretty low.”

That was not what she expected to hear, and it was slanderous enough that Harrow wheeled around mid step to face a very unimpressed Camila.

“That is not what happened.” She surprised herself with the amount of venom in her voice.

“Had a feeling, just thought it’d get your attention.” Camila said with a smirk. “Listen I can take a guess that you saw something you didn’t like, in yourself not in her. I think she pushed a button in response to your own attack and you can’t handle the way you reacted. You’re running from shame, frankly, and that’s the saddest thing about it. Cause that girl’s got heart, and you’re breaking it because you’re too afraid for her to see yours.”

Harrow’s mouth opened to respond and then did little else, as she tried to comprehend the most words Camila Hect had ever uttered, counting all other encounters as combined.

“And if you’re wondering why I have the audacity to say this to you, it’s because I genuinely think no one else would. Nav’s used to blaming herself, and other’s following suit. The teens are terrified of you. Palamedes believes in cutting out interference’s and controlling what you can. Air-go that leaves me. The voice of reason.” She did the slightest jazz hands as punctuation to this ludicrous statement, but still, Harrow found her mouth agape and unable to continue.

“And…” She finally caught something, straightening up, taking a breath and meeting her eye with a calmer facade. “What makes you think any of that is true?”

Camila shrugged. “Cause it is. I’m a double major in psych and engineering.” As if those credentials were enough to back her statement.

“I deny all of it and ascertain this is the last we shall speak of it.” Harrow said, turning around, but Camila was quick. Quicker than she’d expected. She stood before her in a flash.

“Using a big word doesn’t make you more believable. You should think about what I said.” Camila said, giving one raise of the eyebrow then walking away, hands in her pockets, in a leisurely stroll.

The fucking ideas people get. Harrow thought, shaking her head and making for the next class.

Running form shame? Harrow scowled at the grass as she walked. That was a load of shit. She was merely protecting herself and honestly… Gideon. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they see that all they ever seemed to do was hurt each other? How it was easier to go their separate ways?

By the time she neared her lab and looked up she saw not 30 feet away was one Gideon Nav, leaning against the side of the building with a thin book in hand that she seemed to be studying deeply. Everything about that image seemed wrong. Harrow was convinced it had boobs in it to garner that kind of focus from the red-head.

When she noticed Harrow she stiffened, sliding the book into her bag and jogging over awkwardly, probably gauging if Harrow was going to run. Like a scared animal. She still thought she might, but for some reason… she froze. Letting her come all the way up to her.

“Uh… hi.”

“Hi…”

This was the first conversation in weeks. Usually the first word out of the other one was just a deflection and then someone would storm off. And she was still wearing those damn gloves.

“So… I’m…” she shifted her bag over her shoulder in between the pauses of the words, looking everywhere all at once. “Really bad at this kinda stuff if that’s not absolutely apparent by now… but I’m sorry.”

“What for this time?” She said dryly, stretching the words to an insinuating tone that she was sure Gideon felt but did not acknowledge.

“For all of it… but I’ve already given you those apologies. More recently for dragging this out… this doesn’t count as giving you space… this is obsessive… and borderline pathetic.”

“Not borderline.” She said, turning away from her with a scowl. Never comfortable having Griddle’s heart bared to her.

She grit her jaw and the nerve in her neck flexed but she didn’t fight it.

“Sure, fine, just pathetic then. I can own that but… can you blame me?” She said the last part with such vulnerable honesty that Harrow’s breath was practically knocked out of her.

“Why?” Was the first word that came to mind. “What is there to gain? The gas money? The moral high ground? Why are you so committed to the idea of me forgiving you?”

It was an unfair question. Cause in truth she didn’t think it was any of those reasons. But she couldn’t let her mind create alternatives. Distractions. Deceits…

Gideon readjusted her backpack again and furrowed her brow looking very focused at the sky then at Harrow then at the ground.

“Well… I don’t know if there’s an easy reply to that but… There’s this thing in physics called... entanglement.” She said, her hand flexing at her side as if unsure what to do, before ultimately retreating into her pockets.

“You mean… the Quantum Physics Theory?” Harrow asked, unable to hide the raise of her brow as she wondered when and why and where even Griddle would have looked up quantum theories.

“Yes. Stop with the disbelief.” She said, pointing to her expression. “That’s what I mean. But it’s supposed to be like... two particles that regardless of distance are still tied together in some way… they feel each other on a base level.”

That thought ruefully… resonated. She could still recall the first day she’d met a head of red across the playground, and the countless times that followed where they’d been drawn to each other like gravity pulling them into a blackhole. Unfightable, inevitable, purely chaotic…

Even though they knew they were better apart than together. Even though they had nothing in common. Even though all they could find in each other were the negatives… still…

“It feels like that.” Gideon said, still staring into the pavement so intensely you’d think the secret of the universe lie there. “Like... no matter what I do I can’t be rid of you.”

Harrow scrunched her brow and tightened her jaw. Well so much for that.

“Sorry to rain on your-“

“ No! ” She yelled, turning to face her and waving her hands energetically as if to rid the space of the very idea. ”No, no, see that’s just it. I don’t want to be... rid of you …”

She cleared her throat, and looked down at her feet again, cheeks furiously dark.

“You’re a constant… like… there’s the sun, there’s the moon, there’s existentialism and debt, and… there’s you Harr…”

Harrow clutched her stack of books to her chest. Not sure if she wanted to scream or disintegrate. Something about it was… overwhelming.

Gideon kicked her foot at the ground, a clump of dirt popped up in response.

“Shit… I said too much. I’ll uh, I’ll leave ya to it.” She said stepping back, flashing her eyes at Harrow’s once with an apology, and a wave from her still gloved hand before turning away.

She was already about 10 paces away before Harrow recovered enough of herself to think, Wait… don’t go… and far too proud to reach out after her. But that was the thing…

Her pride was leaving her standing by herself… again and again.

*********

The talk with Harrow went… not great. She was kicking herself before she even made it to her car.

Shit, she hadn’t even told her she was drawing a line. That was the whole fucking point.

That next morning she almost didn’t go to the bus stop. It felt dreadfully embarrassing to still continue in this pattern after all the times she’d bowed her head, as if to a liege worthy of her degradation. It was honestly like an autopilot sense more than anything that found her parked behind the bus yet again. Morning coffees in their cupholders. Bags under her eyes.

Gideon leaned back in her seat with a sigh. Resting her tired eyes behind her hand before reaching for her phone. The song playing was hitting her too hard for pre-sunrise, coming to an end, swelling with emotion at the finale of the song.

Now I just sit in silence

And now I just sit in silence

And I just sit in silence

And now I just sittttttttt.

The piano carrying the song to it’s end, softly like butterfly wings, until the voice returned.

I ponder of something great, my lungs will fill and then deflate

They fill with fire, exhale desire, I know it’s dire my time today…

She hit pause, breathing out with the borrowed courage of lyrics that weren’t hers. Poetry all it’s own.

She had to draw the line. And not as a threat, but as a natural ending…

She opened up her messages page to Harrow’s name.

Why won’t you let me go?

Sat the unanswered text, left on read as she had tried to piece together the rightest, most convincing response. The truth now seemed the only thing she could rely on. She’d played all her cards yesterday, it was time to shuffle the deck and walk away from the table. All in or bust.

Cause I miss you. And I’m sorry.

She hit send before she could second guess.

I wasn’t angry with you that day, but I snapped as if I were. I blamed you for things you aren’t even aware of. That was beyond shitty, and I regret it. I want to make it right but have no clue how.

Send.

And you don’t make it easy. You never make anything easy… neither do I. So I follow, hoping I’ll come up with something.

Send.

But what we had was fragile enough without me taking a sledgehammer to it…

Send.

If you tell me to leave I will.

Send.

She gulped as she typed the last message… pausing just before she hit the arrow.

I’ll let you go… even if it’s not what I want.

She slumped back in her seat and pressed the phone to her chest. Sighing like a balloon exhaling air.

She didn’t know if she expected a response. If it would hurt to ultimately see the final ‘Piss off’ from Nonagesimus, or if it would be like finally ripping off the band-aid in earnest and letting it bleed out.

It made her heart feel like one of those red pin cushions Aiglamene kept around the house that looked like tomatoes. Just stab anywhere… she could take it…

Her phone buzzed against her chest. She clutched it, hands shaking immediately and held it up to see,

And what is it you want?

She became overly aware of her own pulse point and heartbeat in that moment. To the point it was probably killing her. What did she want…

You and me. Figuring this shit out together. The world’s scary enough when we take it on as two… but alone it’s nearly treacherous. We always seem to come out better in the bits where we overlap…

Ok so she’d definitely been reading too much Emily Dickinson. But Magnus was right, that shit slapped.

I don’t want to pretend like you don’t matter to me.

She exhaled and leaned back into her chair sighing, letting her shoulders sag. She’d said everything she could. And she wasn’t going to follow the bus today. Or probably ever again. But she’d watch her drive off one last time. See it through cause she had to.

But then instead she saw a flash of movement from the bus doors. Around the corner came a hunched, dark bundle of a person, walking over to the side of Gideon’s car and tapping twice on the window, other arm wrapped around her little bird body to trap in warmth.

Gideon was stunned into action, leaning across her console to flick the lock and push the handle open for her sudden guest, and leaned back as far as she could to the driver side as Harrow Nonagesimus settled into the passenger seat.

Her expression looked almost equally surprised to find herself where she now sat.

“Hi.” Gideon said finally. Sliding back her glasses and readjusting awkwardly in her seat before settling, facing forward and putting both hands on the steering wheel, at a loss for what else to do with them.

Silence fell over them besides the sound of Gideon’s mental gears grinding against each other, running at the speed of sound and producing nothing. If it sounded as loud as her brain did then Harrow was in the equivalent of a mental train station, now departing nowhere.

“Why did you start wearing gloves?” Harrow asked, suddenly and with no logical preamble. Gideon looked at her hands. The fingerless gloves that were at best retro, worn to cover her bruised knuckles.

“What, you noticed that?” She asked on first instinct, then regretted the word choice when she saw her shrink further into herself. Gideon pursed her lips and sighed, minorly frustrated at herself, but felt actions spoke louder than words. She slipped one of the gloves off and rested the exposed hand on the center console, not pausing to let her mind talk herself out of this.

Might as well show her all your damage…

The skin was no longer purple but yellowed in splotches and broken in red scratches over some parts of her knuckles.

Harrow studied it passively, then turned her eye to Gideon, before saying in her very neutral tone, “Is that because of me?”

The question was unfair in the way it wrung her heart but it wasn’t… right either.

“No. No, it’s because of me.” Gideon swallowed. The blame was solely on her. She couldn’t pass it on to someone else. Wouldn’t. Not her. “I get angry sometimes… and… I don’t know how to keep it in…”

Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, turning out the window and moving to slide her hand back into her glove but she suddenly felt a palm press over hers a top the console.

She looked back, startled, and saw Harrow was looking intently at where their hands joined. Brow furrowed in concentration.

“Me too…” she said quietly, before looking up at Gideon’s eyes and seeming to regret the choice of contact, retreating back to her side of the car and biting the tip of her finger.

“Cool.” Gideon said awkwardly, before silence fell between them again. A long silence. Like the bus drove away and neither of them said anything levels of long silence.

And she couldn’t think of anything to do. It was like suffocating under the weight of too many unsaid things, and not urge where to start. A filing cabinet in disarray.

“Im not good at… apologizing.” Harrow said suddenly. “My father said never to backtrack when you could keep pressing forward… but…” There was a tick in her jaw. Something more powerful then what they were to each other churning. “I dont want to be like him.”

Gideon could understand that. Her parents seemed like pricks from the next to nothing she knew about them.

“I hurt you that day. I knew better, but I threw a low punch regardless. Even when…” She bit her lip, looking mournful. “Even when you were trying. You invited me to lunches, you made me a part of your games, you were… welcoming.”

“Ok when you say it all like that it’s a little sappy.” Gideon said, cutting her off. Unable to take that amount of praise.

“I’m saying ,” She continued. “That I pushed you when I shouldn’t have… when you didn’t deserve it. And you pushed back. It’s understandable.”

“I still shouldn’t have said what I did.” Gideon added quickly. An apology from Harrow was like a song from a fish. It didn’t make sense, but it was a once in a lifetime experience. “I didn’t mean any of it. Besides the difficult part. You are difficult,” she shrugged. “But… so am I.“

“I’m sorry Griddle.” Harrow said softer than she could ever remember the nickname sounding. “For a lot of things. But most of all… for letting you believe I didn’t value you.”

Gideon’s cheeks flushed, even across her tanned skin. She was pretty sure hell was freezing over as they spoke. But she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to go ice-skating in the aftermath.

“I do.” Harrow added. “Value you, that is.” And Gideon caught the flush on her cheeks as well. They both sucked at this. But it was perfect in its own way.

“Ditto.” Gideon said, clearing her throat and tugging at her collar. “So… We’re good?” An edge of hope on the end of her words

Harrow sighed a thin breath. It sounded like her version of relieved, which was only a minuscule difference from her disdain, and two notches away from her bored. But that was definitely relief in the book of Nonagesimus.

“We’re good… if… you really choose to forgive me so easily.” Harrow said, still feeling for the trap. The sour milk in her cereal. But Gideon wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. (Or however many times it had been now.)

“Wellllllll…” Gideon drawled with a bit of her usual sarcasm and energy peeking through her softened exterior. “As much as I’d love to dangle this over your head and guilt you for years to come… I think we’re good.”

There was that softness between them again, something that was new and fucking weird, but… maybe needed. A new chapter on a tried and true book.

“Is… one of those for me?” Harrow asked, surprising Gideon yet again. She was looking at the coffees in the cup holders.

“Yeah. Yeah, take your pick. They’re both black.” Gideon said gesturing, completely forgetting about her peace-offering, and feeling borderline embarrassed to be found out. She saw Harrow’s always calculating mind put two and two together to catch her red-handed and the soft smile on her lips as she took the cup.

“I have missed this shitty coffee.” She said dryly and it caused Gideon to chuckle as she turned the key and finally started moving into the open road.

It was so different having Harrow back in the car. She felt a freedom coming over her. It was hard to explain but… she was certain. She hadn’t been in a long time.

Everything wasn’t magically perfect. They still had differences and shit that they didn’t want to get into and a lot of conflicting opinions on great music (she’d poke that bear another time) but for now… she was happy in their conjoined silence.

“You can play music.” She said lightly after a few miles in quiet, earnest healing.

Gideon smiled, surprised and pleasantly so.

“Yeah, ok.” She flicked her eyes to her phone quickly and hit play on the first song that felt right, then shifted it back to its cup holder.

A soft guitar strummed along, leading them into the rest of the morning. The sun was just starting to paint the sky over the horizon. Lighter shades of grey being blended into pink and canary.

The lyrics came in soft, the mans voice honest and unfiltered, contemplative almost.

When my body wont hold me anymore,

And it finally lets me free?

Will I be ready?

Almost imperceptibly, Harrow’s pinky finger laying in her lap started to strum on beat and Gideon smiled, secretively. Drawing attention to it would be a dick move, but that was as much an acceptance and an ‘I missed you too’ that she was going to get. So she enjoyed it as the song spread it’s silky vibes through her ears and the nerves of her brain, and as the chorus started she found herself reclining more into her seat, tension she didn’t know she’d been feeling fluttering freely away.

The lyrics subtly dropped to the chorus.

And no

Hard

Feelingsssss

Harrow’s finger stilled, and she smirked one breath.

“You ass.”

And Gideon grinned wider than she had in weeks.

“That’s going in your playlist.”

Chapter Text

Harrow’s teeth chattered even inside the car with the heat on. The mornings were getting cold in Drearburh, though somehow by its own charm, back to muggy by the afternoon.

Harrow looked through the windshield into the coffee shop window where she could see Gideon standing in a surprisingly long line for the time of day.

You take your coffee black now?

The question was typed and sent before she could think better of it, because truthfully it had been bothering Harrow. Well, bother was a strong word, but it was a curiosity. One she thought deserved to be satiated.

Gideon had her hands in her pocket, (no gloves anymore, Harrow had noted) and she saw her turn to the vibrating device and pull it out to check, then shoot a confused smirk out the window to where Harrow was now.

You weirdo

Was the return message she got (which earned an eye roll) before the dots continued and another message came through.

I didn’t think you’d notice… but ye. Developed a taste for it.

She saw her actually smile at that line as she sent it.

When did that start?

Harrow sent back. 

You really can’t let a thought go, can you?

Harrow rolled her eyes and caught Gideon looking back at her so she flipped her the bird. Gideon chuckled and returned it before moving up in line and typing feverishly.

Harrow watched her for longer than she’d care to admit. There was an interesting… ease to her that she rarely saw. That only came over someone when they didn’t think they were being watched. She saw her type then backspace (and knew it was backspacing cause she typed with much more force when she was erasing. As if she had to beat the non-existent letters into submission) saw her smirk to herself with a little laugh shaking in her shoulders, then a shake of the head. Finally a nod as she hit send and pocketed the phone to move forward and finally order. 

Harrow had watched her for so long she was almost surprised when her phone rang, half forgetting she had watched the other half of their own conversation happening.

I started buying two each morning in case I had the guts to give you one when we weren’t talking, but… you saw how that went. Closest I came was that time I threw them both away the second you questioned me about it. Usually I’d just chug them when I parked. Needed the caffeine anyway. But it stuck, so now I drink it black. Rarely do I like to give you the satisfaction of agreeing with you, but it’s less prep and still slaps.

Something about it was… huh. She felt a bubble in her throat that she swallowed down at the idea… she’d made a change in Gideon. An accidental one perhaps but one that stuck. Yet another influence they’d had over each other, but one that finally didn’t seem… hurtful. Even if pain was part of it’s origin.

The car door opened and Gideon slid back into her seat, placing both coffees into the cupholders and adjusting her rear view mirror before cueing up a song.

Guitar strings started over an eager drum, and a girls voice started la-laing.

I just can’t get you out of my head, cause your loving is all that I think about.

Gideon checked her phone one more time and typed something with a smile.

“This is a cover by the way. Do you know the original?”

Harrow pointed a look her way that said she clearly did not, and Gideon chuckle with a shake of her head before setting her phone down.

Harrow’s phone buzzed again and she clicked on the new red notification.

Guess you rubbed off on me my Osteo Baroness. Don’t think I’ve given up on doing the same.

Harrow paused looking at the message. It wasn’t particularly lewd or forward or that Un-Gideon to say. She was even slightly impressed at the use of ‘osteo.’ But something about it… had her staring at her phone until she had the sense to shove it in her bag and grab her coffee from the dash. Drinking down whatever feeling had bothered to show its head. 

And whether it was the feeling or the coffee… it was warm. 

*********

Gideon sighed a deep, perpetual sigh, leaning against the door of her car with her arm hanging out the open window.

“How much longer are you going to be exasperated Griddle?” Harrow asked without looking up from her book, sitting cross-legged on her half of the car.

“Let me have this Nonagessimus, I’m sad.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

She closed her book with a thwap. Turning her face ever so slightly to give her version of absolute attention.

“Try me.”

Gideon flicked her eyes over behind her shades and calculated the potential response versus the potential scoffing. She reached for her gatorade and downed a long swig of neon blue to fill the silence while she thought.

“This professor I like, Magnus Quinn… he’s leaving. That’s all.” She said deflectively. “I’m just… sad to see him go.”

Harrow stared for awhile.

“That’s it?”

“Well- hey look alright he’s… he’s decent to me. He remembers my name and he’ll talk to me after class and tell me to hang in there… not a lot of teachers do that, is all.”

Harrow nodded slightly. “Ok… I can see that. Why is he leaving?”

“His wife’s new book got picked up and she needs to be onsite fast for whatever happens next. So, they’re both going.”

“Strange to give up a teaching position for that.”

Gideon shrugged.

“He says he can teach elsewhere. Apparently he’s been to a bunch of colleges as they’ve moved around for her various gigs. He’ll tell you he got his post by marriage not merit, and he’s very proud of that joke.”

Harrow scrunched her face, obviously not as wowed by it. Poor taste on her part, cause that joke is fucking banger.

“Quinn gave me some good advice…” Gideon continued, more in thought than anything. “And he always seemed happy to see me.”

“Hard to believe.” Harrow added.

“See! Like this- this is what I’m talking about.” Gideon sat up now and gestured with her arm. “This is how everyone treats me. I’m not used to someone approaching me with like… genuine fucking kindness, it doesn’t happen a lot, so when it does…” and she felt red in her cheeks at the unexpected share time. “I don’t know, it makes them special. Whatever… he was less of a stranger to me than you are.” 

She deflated against the side of the car again and grabbed the bottle, filling the silence with the sound of the air bubbles against the plastic.

I see…” The frown lines on Harrow's forehead creased in that way that was thoughtful not annoyed. “Then I can no longer accept being a stranger to you.”

“What…?” Gideon felt her mind do a 180. She almost dropped the gatorade, nearly did, feeling the label fumble between her fingers.

“Griddle.” She said very determinedly. “We step on each others toes repeatedly because we do not know the depths of them.”

“The depths of our… toes?” Gideon said raising an eyebrow. Harrow rolled her eyes.

“I’m saying that if we do not communicate with each other about the difficult things we are set up to fail.” Harrow said slowly. “I’m saying if we don’t take steps to avoid it, we will keep hurting each other. And I would like to avoid making the same mistakes.”

This, Gideon had to admit, made sense. And was true. They’d patched what they’d broken, sure, but it didn’t just go away. Bang a hole in a fence and nail it up, you’re still painfully aware that there is a chunk unlike the others.

“Ok…” Gideon said slowly. “So how do we do that?”

Harrow had turned to her now, one knee coming up and resting on the seat around her skirts as she worried her lip in thought.

“Well, I think we tell each other things. Things we don’t normally tell each other. And we listen, not just ridicule.” 

“That’s going to be hard for you.” Gideon jidded.

“I’m aware why you’d think that, but you underestimate my capabilities.”

“You talk like an extended warranty.”

“Griddle.” She said slightly warning and Gideon held up a hand in surrender before relaxing against her side of the car again.

“Ok ok… I’ll bite. What am I supposed to tell you?”

Harrow’s features softened a bit. At the edges of her mouth and corners of her eyes. 

“How about what made you so mad that day…”

Ah that one.

Gideon swallowed. Fairs fair, that was bound to come up eventually. She flexed her fingers against the steering wheel, adjusting her grip.

“Yeah ok… you deserve that.” She shifted in her seat to better face her and Harrow looked terribly expectant.

“So I got into school here last semester, but I couldn’t take their offer. I had… an accident. Kinda sucked up all my funds. And I only accepted this time around because I had gotten approved for some student aid. The type I’ll have to payback but not with interest. Seemed like as good a gig as I could get. But now…” she ran a finger along her neck in thought. “There was some issue. They ended up finding an error in my application and I no longer qualify. So the aid’s not coming.”

Harrow frowned.

“What kind of error?”

Gideon puffed a long breath out.

“Something to do with about how I’m a foster kid with an ‘abandonment charge’ from when I was in high school. That technically ends up on your juvie records, so through some channel or another, or just because they don’t want to trust money to someone like me, they reversed the offer and denied me.” She held her arms in a palms up ‘what’re ya going to do?’ motion and shrugged.

“So… are you going to have to drop out?” Harrow asked, but her voice had become quite soft… daresay caring.

“I’m trying to avoid it.” Gideon smiled wryly. “Palamedes is helping me apply to some new ones but their windows close fast. And if I can bring up all my grades that’ll definitely help a bit in showing them why I should stay in school.”

Harrow nodded, her bottom lip worried between her teeth.

“I didn’t know you had an abandonment charge…”

Gideon swallowed. That one kinda sucked to talk about.

“Well family number one was kinda cool back in the day but… screwed that one up. Family two was a bunch of dickheads. So when I got to the point I could grow the balls to run… I did.” She stared off through the windshield in awkward reminiscence. It didn’t hurt anymore it was just odd… thinking of something she so rarely did. “Brought me to Aiglamene in the end so… is what it is. Couldn’t stay there so… wouldn’t.”

Harrow swallowed and Gideon was feeling very warm around her collar as she could sense the almost pity rising from that side of the car and wasn’t sure she could take anymore questions at the moment. She took a long exhale, comically loud to try and ease the tension.

“Anyway, that’s where we’re at. Riveting stuff, I know.”

“I could help…” Harrow said softly, so softly Gideon thought she’d imagined it. She turned back to her. “You study, that is.”

Gideon blinked behind her glasses, probably staring too long as Harrow began to look uncomfortable with the pause.

“I don’t have to, I’m sure Palamedes would be more than-“

“No, that’d be… really awesome actually.” Gideon said quickly, pulling from the stupor and nodding feverishly. Harrow matched the nod, no longer looking at her.

“Totally tubular.” Gideon added and Harrow exhaled the smallest chuckle mixed with disapproval and humor.

“Honestly Griddle, for that I shall reconsider all my previous offers of aide.” 

Gideon grinned and shifted in her seat, catching the time on the dash and shifting to take them to the Psych building. 

“You have to hear it, you really do sound like a warranty when you talk. It’s bananas.” 

“Griddle.”

*********

Harrow’s eyes scanned over the pile of papers in their various states of bent and crumpled that had come out of Gideon Nav’s backpack and had a moment where she cursed her earlier self for ever agreeing to this.

Truly a moment of ludicrousness that had snuck passed all her other defenses and common sense to lead to the two of them awkwardly sitting at the highest floor of the library at their own table, Gideon having dumped the contents of her bag onto the table like a mule, and now the two of them picking through them to make some kind of semblance or sensical grouping.

Fine, this was fine. She could do something nice for Nav that had no benefit to her, it was fine. It would save her getting a chauffeur later or returning to that godforsaken bus, or least of all dealing with explaining to her parents why the plans had changed and fallen through, giving them reason on the phone to sigh or scowl in their all knowingness.

And it had nothing to do with the shy look of appreciation on Gideon’s face.

“Alright first of all,” Harrow said flattening stacks into paper shape once more. “You need some folders or paper clips at the very least. You probably spend half your time trying to find the right paper when you’re doing your homework. 

This felt very juvenile a thing to point out but she saw the studious nature on Gideon’s face and realized this might be the first time anyone had ever told her this. She nodded intently.

“Okay yeah… that is pretty spot on… do they sell those at the student building?” Gideon half-rose out of her chair as if she was going to run off immediately to go get them and Harrow had to put her hand out to cut her off.

“Sit down Griddle."

Gideon looked like a deer in the headlights so Harrow motioned her hand again for her to sit. She did slowly.

Truly, based on what Gideon had shared earlier… she wondered if she’d ever had anyone help her with schoolwork. Probably not… So Harrow rolled her shoulders back and banished the part of her that was so quick to ridicule and instead focused on a rare form of sincerity.

“Yes, they’ll have all kinds of things there if you’re ever truly in a pinch. But here.” She reached into her own satchel and withdrew a box of binder clips. The black kind with two metal tongs to click on either side of the stack. “Just use these for now.”

“Oh- no I can’t take those from you.” Gideon said, almost awkwardly polite. Harrow sighed a thin breath.

“Griddle if I’m going to help you you have to actually do as I say.”

Gideon sighed, annoyed or defeated. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you, ya know?”

Harrow laughed inside her throat, she couldn’t help it. “It’s a box of paperclips. It’s hardly a debt.”

“Yeah well I got enough of those.” Gideon said defensively, and with her voice a little too loud for the space, earning a shush from the librarian a few counters away. She held up an apologetic wave and Harrow softened.

“It’s fine. Take the box, it is no great loss to me. And truly, organization will do wonders for you, alright?”

Gideon nodded and took the box, pouring a few on the table, earning a raised eye from the librarian but no further shushing.

Harrow helped her make the stacks as she gave more instruction. “Put them in chronological order as best you can, and going forward add the newer material to the front of the packet. Date the papers if they don’t already come that way so you can always cross reference.” She said, watching Gideon nod and rearrange some papers to match her instruction.

At least she was good at following orders.

“Why not put the newest ones at the back?” Gideon asked curiously but Harrow shook her head.

“Because most commonly you’ll need to reference the latest piece of information, not the oldest. So why work backwards?”

She saw Gideon nod her head in thought and reached into her satchel again, pulling out a stack of stick on bookmarks in shades of grey.

“Second, put these on any pages or paragraphs that you think are important or going to be on the test.”

Gideon looked at them with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

“Isn’t that overkill?”

“No, overkill is what I’ll do to you if you keep questioning my methods.”

Gideon chuckled, actually laughed at the statement, earning another shush from the lady at the counter, now clearly looking at them with disdain.

“I’m sorry, you just look like this internet cat when you make threats like that.”

Now Harrow bristled, squeezing the pencil in her hand. 

“I am not a cat.” She said in measured syllables.

“I know I know, but you should see it. The likeness is uncanny.” Gideon said with a quieter laugh, but she took the bookmarks all the same.

Harrow wondered how much force it would take to put the pencil through her temple. It couldn’t need much, but then she looked up again with that sincerity and stupid, vulnerable appreciation, and Harrow looked away.

She’d stave the pencil for another day.

As the piles were finally in a state of decency Harrow located a copy of the same Psychology textbook Gideon was using and they worked through the problems together for 30 minutes. Then an hour. Then it had been nearly two and Harrow realized time had completely slipped passed her. She wasn’t counting the minutes like she thought she’d be. She was instead enveloped in the rudimentary problems, reminiscing through her own earlier explorations in the field and explaining to Gideon certain fundamentals. She asked surprisingly apt questions, came to logical conclusions, referenced her notes and debated her beliefs to a fair level, conceding only when history demanded she must.

She underlined Freud in her notes and wrote CUNT in big letters beside it when they got to the explanation of Oedipus Complex. Harrow bit her lip, trying to look reproachful but internally was thoroughly entertained.

“You’re not completely wrong.” Harrow said, pointing her pencil toward the insult.

“No, I’m completely right. Talk about a super-ego.” Harrow poked Gideon’s arm with the pointy side of her pencil and motioning for her to quiet down. But she looked downright triumphant and Harrow merely shook her head, realizing they’d gotten through a lot of her class work.

“Griddle, you’re not horrible at this.”

Gideon put a hand to her heart in mock surprise with an over the top gasp.

“Wow, I think I misheard you, could you say that again? It almost sounded like a compliment.”

“My point is-“ Harrow continued. “You don’t seem like you need a terrible amount of help. You pick up on concepts fast enough to be a fully adequate student. Besides your complete lack of prior organization.”

Gideon seemed to get the question, a hint of that same shyness from earlier seeping back in. She shifted in her chair about three times before she settled.

“It’s… it’s not that I don’t try. And not that I don’t do an okay job. But… it’s easier with you here.” She finally said. “With anyone here.” She added. “Like… when it’s just me on my own… I don’t know, I get distracted and confused and have no way to know if I’m going to go too far down the wrong path. It makes me feel…”

She held her hand out as if releasing an imaginary dove.

“Feel…” Harrow prompted.

“Helpless.” Gideon finally said, slowly turning her open palm to a fist. “And stupid. Just like everyone says.” The last part was said to herself as she stared at the table and Harrow felt a clenching in her gut. One of something like sympathy and something like apology.

“Well… I can confirm… you’re neither of those things.” Harrow said softly. “Distracted and messy I can’t deny, but-“

“Hey cheap shot!” Gideon fired back, a smile back on her face and something appreciative behind her eyes as they were shushed yet again. She was sure they were going to get kicked out of this building any minute. 

Gideon waved apologetically yet again. The librarian must be getting sick of that. If she’d had a button for security to take her away with she imagined she’d have pressed it 3 shushes ago.

“What time is it?” Gideon asked quietly, nodding toward Harrow’s overturned phone.

Harrow flipped it over to check the time and froze when she saw the screen.

Two missed calls. From her parents.

Two.

She rarely missed one, let alone two in a row. That had never happened.

Gideon must’ve seen her face change and her own took on a look of worry.

“Hey, everything good?” She asked softly.

It wasn’t, but she didn’t know how to express that. Didn’t know what she needed to say, didn’t know how to fix it in the moment.

“Harrow?” She asked again, leaning closer this time.

“It’s fine, I just need to be going. Now. Immediately.” She said, already folding her items for her satchel. 

“Hey, talk to me.” Gideon said, sliding her hand between her textbook as she tried to close the pages.

“Leave it.” Harrow said hurriedly.

“What was all that talk this morning about the depths of our toes?”

“What?” Harrow said with a confused shake of her head and Gideon furrowed her lip scooting closer.

“You know, the whole we can’t be continued strangers to each other or else blah blah blah, ghost of Christmas past, you know the rest.”

That was a terrible recount, but it did make her pause.

“Come on you said we need to talk about these things. So talk. Or does that only apply when it’s me pouring my heart out?” Gideon countered, a slight edge to her tone but still looking at her like the whole world rotated around her answer.

The librarian shushed yet again and Gideon waved her off, earning a disgruntled huff and her actually rising from her chair and storming off.

Harrow’s eyes trailed from her to Gideon to her phone and back to Gideon. 

“Come on Harr,” her voice softened. “One Flesh, One End.”

“What?” Harrow said again, losing track of the conversation.

“It means no bullshit. At least that’s what Quinn said.” Gideon said hurriedly. “It’s from a poem. Like, ‘we’re in this together’ or whatever.”

Harrow looked back at the phone.

“I missed my parents call.” She said finally. “I never miss their calls.”

Gideon looked at her for a moment more, and Harrows expected another onslaught of questions about why that mattered that she didn’t have time for. But instead she lifted her hand from the book and started gathering her own things.

“Why don’t you go call them back and I’ll pack up our stuff. Tell them it was my fault if that helps. My phone was dead and I used yours for maps or whatever.” She made a small shooing motion as she slid Harrow’s satchel closer to her. “Go ahead, go deal with that.”

Harrow was struck for a moment by the suggestion. It fully benefited her and only her, and Gideon made it as casual as she suggested they stop for coffee. But she kept packing the bag, neat enough, and looked back at Harrow to motion her off again.

“Seriously, I got this. And think that librarian is gonna ask us to leave. Me at least.” She said, craning her neck in the direction she walked off in. “Go.”

Harrow grabbed her jacket and turned, deciding to trust Gideon with her things. As she got to the stairwell she indeed saw the librarian coming up with a security guard and heard Gideon’s very loud voice go, “alright alright, I’m going anyway! Calm your tits.”

*********

In the car Harrow was quiet, but she had a stillness to her that made Gideon start doing some mental math.

Her parents hadn’t been a topic that had come up, and she got the vibe that it would not be one they should tip toe into just yet. 

But this response was really intense, and made her worry a little bit. Like missing a call or two shouldn’t send someone into a state of paralysis like this right? 

And come to think of it… she never really saw her parents? They were always out of town as far as she knew, but like… how could someone’s parents always be out of town? 

“Griddle.” Harrow said suddenly, and she turned so hard she almost gave herself whiplash. “You can play music.”

That was Nonagesimus for, ‘everything’s fine, let’s move on’ so Gideon complied. Kicking on the first song she saw that stuck out and looking ahead intently to give her her space.

A soft ukulele kicked on, strumming in a lonely fashion before the voice kicked in.

It sounded so much better in my mind

I guess I messed it up again this time

There’s something else that I wanted to say

But my twisted tongue got in the way.

The bridge kicked in with harmonized oooh’s and la’s and Gideon got lost to it for awhile.

“Why do you like this one?” Harrow asked suddenly, and Gideon for the second time in a two minute span almost pulled something in her neck with the speed at which she looked to her left.

Harrow was asking her about music? She tried to put her thoughts together as cohesively as she could, now on the spot.

“I… I like music cause it gives me… words?”

Fucking awful start.

But Harrow merely turned with a neutral expression, so she pressed on.

“I’m not… the best at explaining myself. So when I get these unnameable… sensations… there’s a song for it. Then it’s like… I’m not the only one feeling it.”

She continued to watch her, almost passively.

“And what’s this one give you words for?”

I wish I said this, I wish I said that, but I kinda froze in my tracks.

I wish I said this, I wish I said that, but I kinda had a panic attack.

I wish I could talk good.

“For not knowing the fucking words, but wishing I did.” She laughed almost self-deprecatingly.

If that wasn’t the amalgamation of their relationship.

“I like it.” Harrow said out of nowhere. Gideon almost drove off the road.

Wait, WHAT-

She reached out and pinched her arm.

Nothing. She didn’t wake up. She reached over and pinched Harrow.

“Ow, Griddle. The fuck?” Her eyes darted back, brow furrowing. No that was definitely Harrow, she’d recognize her iconic scowl anywhere.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you liked a song? One of MY songs?? I must be hallucinating.”

“God you’re so weird.” Harrow said shaking her head, frown replacing her brief serene expression.

“Is this an alternate universe? The Matrix? Are you a figment of my imagination?”

“Remind me to never agree with you again.” She rolled her eyes with enough force to disrupt the earth’s axis, but nothing could dampen this moment for Gideon.

“Nope, you’re not taking this from me. Let me savor this Nonagesimus.” She took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly, hamming it up.

“You’re such a dolt.”

“A dolt who’s music you like.” She picked up the phone and added it to Harrow’s playlist. There were now 4 whole songs. A massive victory for the day.

“Your existence gives me a headache.” Harrow said turning back out the window.

That night Gideon lay in bed, restless, staring up at the patched area of her roof and listening to the pitter patter of rain on the tarp.

Her mind was replaying much of the day. Harrow’s help. Her panic. Her liking her music. It was so cloudy… trying to decipher where to step in their new world. She felt like Indiana Jones in a damn cursed temple. One wrong step could send you plummeting.

But… enough steps and you’d hit the gold. And it’d be worth it. That’s what today had shown her... What they could be like sharing each others space.

It was nice.

And as a potential friend- no scratch that, co-pilot, she wanted to check in with her. Make sure she was okay. See if she needed anything. Just… not leave her hanging like that.

She tapped her fingers on her chest in thought before reaching for her phone where it sat plugged in on the nightstand. She squinted briefly as the blue light assaulted the dim room around her and opened her messages, scrolling to Harrow’s.

When she opened it she stared for a solid 30 seconds and realized she didn’t have anything good to say that wasn’t too direct… nothing that wasn’t ‘you good?’ Which knowing Harrow, would not be appreciated.

She never liked to be perceived as weak. Never liked to show her hand.

She replayed their day and came up with one stupid idea, heading to image search and smirking when she found what she sought. 

Found it.

She typed before attaching the picture of the very unimpressed cat and sending it off to Harrow.

Hopefully that was light enough. Gideon clutched the phone to her chest and hoped it would go smoothly and not earn her a days worth of silent treatment. Harrow didn’t appreciate many jokes but she was trying to get away with the occasional.

Her phone lit up rather quick and she looked, surprised to see Harrow had already responded.

That cat looks nothings like me.

Gideon laughed, triumphantly, then opened her editing app and took a shoddy marker to the face of the cat. Adding dark eye shadow and choppy hair to the cat before resending it.

How bout now?

…

Oh no not a dot dot dot!

Why type out the … ?

For emphasis!

Goodnight griddle. Go to bed.

Alright alright, you too 🐈‍⬛

I decline to respond to the cat

It’s a little late for that 😂

GOODNIGHT griddle.

Okay, that was pretty good. Gideon thought.

She’d lay off at the second goodnight, but hopefully Harrow at least knew… 

Truthfully, she didn’t know what she hoped she knew.

But she hopefully knew something… and they weren’t about to plummet off the ledge.

Gideon smiled at the Harrow Cat one more time, saving it for posterity sake.

Chapter Text

“Nav no matter how many times you play this song you’re not going to convince me to like it.” Harrow said after day 3 of the same silly guitar rift greeting her at the beginning of their morning drive.

“Pssh, well I like it. Not everything is about you huh?” Gideon fired back with no bite, turning the volume up in time to sing along to the chorus.

“If you were a fruit you’d be a fine apple. If you were words you’d be the fine print.” 

Her voice was off-key in a directional way, as if proudly intended.

“That’s poetry.” She said, waggling a finger toward Harrow.

“Name two poets, and don’t say Emily Dickinson.” She countered dryly.

Gideon paused, with a rather stunned laugh frozen on her lips.

“Well that’s just not fair to take away my big hitter like that.”

“You’re in English studies, surely you’ve learned two other poets.” Harrow said, crossing her arms in challenge.

“Shakespeareeeeee,” Gideon stretched, “and……………. DR. SEUSS!” She exclaimed, pointing with as much enthusiasm as if she were poking a ghost.

“That doesn’t count.” Harrow said, but Gideon was already in her ‘victory lap’ posture.

“It absolutely does.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I do not need your sass today.

I do not like it anyway.”

“Nav.”

“I would not like it in my car

I would not like it near or far.”

“NAV.”

*********

Gideon was trying and failing to keep her cool. Think of cool things, she told herself. Ice trays. A sno cone with freezer burn. The arctics. Polar bears. Not her or her blood right now, that she was certain was boiling under her skin. She swore she saw steam coming off her arms.

She turned the volume up louder in her ears, almost splitting as Kesha’s heartfelt vocals came back in, chorus playing over an acoustic guitar. She closed her eyes and imagined sitting toe to toe with the musician.

Don’t let the bastards get you down, oh no

Don’t let the assholes wear you out

Don’t let the mean girls take the crown

Don’t let the scumbags screw you round

Don’t let the bastards take you down

‘I know you’ve had your share of bastards.’ Gideon thought in sympathy to the soulful lyrics before sighing and pulling the earbuds ungracefully from her ears and wrapping them rather aggressively around her hand. Like a boxer with their tape.

“I know you’re there.” She called without looking back and she heard two voices start bickering.

“See, you were too loud.”

“What! No- she heard you and your platforms!”

“She probably smelled your hair gel.”

“It’s both of you.” Gideon called again, ending Jeannemary and Isaac’s argument and hearing the sigh and shuffling of them coming closer. “What’s up?”

“We just wanted to check on you after- well you know, you were there.” Isaac said, rocking on his heels.

“Yeah those guys were total assholes, and way out of line.”

“Correcto-mundo. But I’ve dealt with assholes before.” She tried to shrug it off, but her hands had been shaking for a solid half hour.

They’d entered the debate portion of the class, and fine. Whatever. Explaining herself had never been Gideon’s strong point but the theme was the class system and she got the negative, so fuck it. Easy. She only had to convince the jury or whatever that all the poor people being poor so one dude could be rich was bad.

That was the jist, right?

But she’d been put up against some absolute asswipe names Silas.

Who would lovingly named their child Silas?

Separate thing, but she thought she had a point there.

He’d turned out to be some pasty bastard who clearly came from means. And discussing whatever they were was fine. Whatever, not personal. If he won the argument, fine.

But he went and made it shitty.

“The class system,” He’d said. “Protected those of merit from the masses. Take for example, grants.”

And Gideon was sure she’d felt a blood vessel pop.

“Grants given to students without merit, without the ability to attend on their own, makes it more expensive for those of us who met the threshold on our own, because we are now funding someone else’s free ride.”

“That’s bullshit.” Gideon had said immediately, and he’d held up a hand to silence her like he was a fucking sith lord.

“Please do not interrupt.” He gave her a look as if she was making his point.

And then had gone on to say some absolute bullshit stats about grants and the students given them and their graduation rate.

He was just a dick, she decided. An absolute flaccid dick that had never known struggle the way she had, and she had to basically grit her teeth from interrupting him. But then the bell did it for her, so the teacher announced that they’d finish their discussion at the top of the next class.

Then she had practically stormed out of there, casting a wake behind her.

It wasn’t about her, she understood that, but it kind of felt like it was. And he hadn’t seemed particularly spiteful, he had seemed incredibly dismissive of people receiving any help. As if the handout took something from someone else.

She shook her head now, still hearing the two teens bicker.

“Hey, hey it’s fine.” She said, interrupting them. They could go on for a while if she didn’t. “It’s annoying, but…”

She paused.

“Yeah it’s annoying. No but. Just, is.” She shrugged. “He has his shitty opinions, that doesn’t make em real. Just makes them frustrating.”

“Well we can help you show him.” Isaac said, all fired up. “We can help you study? You have two whole days, we can make a perfect flawless argument to wreck him with next time.”

“Yeah!” Jeanne agreed.

Gideon cracked a smile. They were cute when they were trying to protect her.

“Thanks guys. Really, but I have enough going on. I can’t let it throw me off my game.” That was the truth. She couldn’t lower to the fight. Couldn’t take the bait. She had enough shit going on. “It’s like Kesha says, can’t let the bastards get you down.”

“Who’s bringing whom down?”

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, of all the people in this damn school, appeared around a statue with a raised eyebrow.

Gideon almost fell off her perch, so she decided to hop with the motion and try and save face.

“You know I never think ‘whom’ sounds like a real word. Always seems made up.” She deflected instead of answering. The teens, evidently, didn’t get the message and instantly started talking over each other in their haste to fill Harrow in.

“There was this asshole guy in our class who was basically talking about how students that didn’t pay their way in don’t deserve to be here.”

“Yeah, like the class system, where you’re in a ring you’re in because that’s what you can handle and how current society breaks that logical approach by trying to convince everyone they can do everything.”

“Yeah, what a jerk.”

“The jerkiest.”

Harrow looked between them to Gideon, assessing something.

“Are you… alright?” She said to Gideon and she was pretty sure this was a dream. Any moment tap dancing fish were going to show up with her third grade teacher and then they’d all have to build a go-kart.

She must’ve blinked at the comment longer than was appropriate because Isaac cleared his throat and Gideon finally recovered to wave an unconvincing hand.

“It’s whatevs.”

“Is that why you were sitting up there sulking?” Jeannemary said with her arms crossed.

“I was not sulking I was observing. Like fucking Batman.” Gideon said pointing a finger in warning to drop it and turning to scoop up her backpack. “What’re you guys all doing here anyway?”

Total deflection, but it was odd for them all to be in the same place at the same time.

“It’s Wednesday.” Harrow answered, looking at her like it was obvious. “Lunch time.”

“Oh.” Gideon said, feeling dumb.

“Very observant.” Jeannemary said with an eye roll, turning with Isaac to walk over to the grass where Pal and Camila were already seated.

*********

Harrow watched Gideon as she took her spot on the grass and knew she was off.

Clearly whatever the teens thought she was upset about, she was.

‘It’s whateves’ was hardly a convincing comeback. And even if she’d just looked at her she’d have known. Her Gideon radar, which was a rather useless piece of tech she’d acquired, was firing off like crazy.

And seeing her now, quiet and distracted… it was rather pathetic. Something had cut deep.

Harrow trailed her eyes over to Palamedes who was looking at Gideon much the same and they shared a conversation without words. Someone had to do something.

Palamedes seemed to come up with a solution first, giving her a victorious wag of the finger before clearing his throat.

“Say gang, what if we played a game?”

Fuck. Harrow should have taken the lead on this. This was not the route she wanted to go, but-

She chanced a look at Gideon and she’d at least stopped picking at the grass and looked intrigued.

Harrow tried to stifle her annoyance. This was the assignment after all. Cheer up the pouting extrovert.

“What game?” Camila asked, barely raising an eyebrow.

“I… don’t know.” Palamedes said, trying to improvise. “Maybe one that’s a trivia based sort of thing? Or a 20 questions?”

“Or like, never-have-I-ever?” Gideon said and Palamedes did a poor job hiding his enthusiasm at her contribution.

“Yes! Refresh my memory, how do we play?” He said, downright giddy.

Gideon seemed a bit confused but went along with it.

“We hold up a hand with five fingers and take turns saying things we’ve never done. Put a finger down if you have done it. First one to put all 5 down loses.” Gideon shrugged. “Usually this is a drinking game and you take a sip when you put a finger down, but I suppose you can play on a Wednesday afternoon at school too.”

“Let’s do it. Right Harrow?” Palamedes asked, drawing her into this like a damn backstabber, but she did see Gideon’s opinion drastically shifting towards Harrow’s approval.

So she grit her teeth as casually as she could and gave a nod.

“Sure. There are worse things I suppose.”

She held up her water bottle and gave it a shake.

“I have my fluids.”

Isaac and Jeannemary held up their hydro flasks and Camila had some kind of grey smoothie.

Palamedes had a hot coffee cup in front of him, long since cooled from their classes, and it left only Gideon without a beverage.

“Here, I had a second for later.” Camila said, retrieving an identical thermos of smoothie. “Hardly counts if you can’t sip, now does it?”

Gideon eyed the vile curiously. “What’s in it?”

“All remains to be seen.” Camila said in a deadpan.

“Alright who’s first?” Palamedes eyed around the circle. “Harrow how about you?”

She wished she could drop cyanide in his coffee.

But now all eyes were on her, including the set of golden ones that they were playing this nonsensical game for in the first place.

Great.

She cleared her throat in thought. She knew she had a lot she could surprise and target the group with. Her life had been rather untraditional, so things like flying on an airplane, exchanging Valentine’s Day cards, and going to sleepovers were not in her bag of experiences. Admitting these shortcomings was another thing all together though.

Instead she looked right at Gideon.

“Never have I ever worn plaid.” Harrow said, tilting her head directly at the collar of the green and black patterned shirt she was wearing.

Gideon looked down and shook her head, putting a finger down. “That feels rather like a direct attack Harr-Dog.”

Harrow almost smiled, as she looked down and took a sip of the provided grey beverage, then reeled back in disgust.

“Bleh, Cam what the fuck is in this? What could possibly make this color?”

“Whey mostly. Never have I ever referred to Harrow as Harr-Dog.” She said for her turn and Gideon looked stunned at the continued assault as the teens were laughing into the back of their hands. She took another remorseful sip and held up her middle finger.

“Laugh it up.”

“Never have I ever gotten a D on a test.” Isaac said, and Gideon glared at him, then fully around the circle.

“Bookworms all of you.”

Third finger down, third sip of the beverage.

“Never have I ever had a drivers license.” Palamedes admitted. That at least took Jeannemary and Cam down with her. Gideon was on her last finger looking around the group with a sly smile. Like she finally had some return ammunition.

“Alright you punks, never have I ever had a Christmas Tree.”

“Bullshit.” Jeannemary pointed with a laugh. Camila raised an eyebrow. Palamedes titled his head in general assessing.

Gideon shook her head.

“Nah, read em and weep nerds. Foster system didn’t bother, first family was jewish, second were dicks, Aiglamene just says ‘whats the point’ and I kind of agree.” She said it all rather casually, but it made something in Harrow’s chest hurt a little at the thought. It was something fundamental of a child’s upbringing. Something that Gideon should have had at some point.

Something that knocked out a finger from everyone else in the circle, besides Harrow herself. Gideon looked pleased that everyone else was drinking, then looked over to Harrow and let her gaze linger.

“Well Harr-Dog?”

And she simply shook her head.

“Never in one place for the holiday season. It looks like my parents had a similar stance to Aiglamene.”

Gideon nodded and tipped her smoothie cup in the air as if in a toast to their defunct childhoods. Harrow tilted hers back as if to accept.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl.” Isaac said next, as if he had been waiting for the chance to say it. Palamedes blushed slightly and tilted his head, putting a finger down, but all eyes were on Gideon as her expression went wide and her cheeks pink.

“Don’t sound so proud of it twerp, you’re missing out. It’s fucking magical.” Gideon said, putting her finger down and chugging a large gulp of the protein drink. They all chuckled and applauded her efforts. And as they started a second round, Harrow realized her attitude had flipped completely.

Operation: Cheer Up Griddle had worked.

She felt a sensation like… relief at this outcome. Purely because a pouty Gideon was unbearable. Purely for this reason of course.

*********

Studying in the library later Harrow is flipping through her own assignments. Gideon had applied to all of the grants she could. Palamedes had made sure she dropped them off at the correct office by the correct time to be considered, and they both knew by the end of the week she’d hear back. At least if it was good news…

So now they’d gotten in this new habit of still going to the library together a few nights a week and working on their own things. Every now and then she’d look up and ask Harrow to look at something, or ask her opinion on a problem, and while Harrow had thought it would be tedious and exhausting and like a needle in her eye having to be continually interrupted-

It wasn’t. It was… fine?

It felt odd to admit that helping Gideon wasn’t a plight. Wasn’t a struggle. Was… perfectly passive.

At one point Gideon let out a sigh and set down her book, brushing back the hair in her face. Harrow looked up as if expecting her to ask for something and Gideon held her eye, then shook her head.

Harrow nodded, dismissing it, and going back to her own work. Gideon leaned forward on her arms and looked over her papers.

“Whatcha working on?” She asked lightly, and there was a moment Harrow was going to shake her off with a wave, or fire off a ‘why do you care?’ or another dismissive comment. But… they had been working pretty well together lately. Things had been… civil.

Good. She’d daresay good.

Good was not something she thought she’d be with Gideon. It wasn’t an adjective she would bother to put on anyone. It wasn’t productive. Good was pointless.

But now that Gideon and her were borderlining ‘Good’ it felt… purposeful.

“It’s some equations for differential geometry.”

Gideon nodded.

“As opposed to normie geometry?”

Harrow cocked a brow.

“Yes. As opposed to that. It deals in mostly smooth shapes.”

Gideon nodded again.

“I can see why that would be… differential. Also harder. Can’t exactly use a ruler on it, hmm?”

“Very perceptive Griddle.” Harrow nodded, flipping through to another page, but seeing a smirk from Gideon.

“Sorry I uh…” She paused, furling her lip. “I can’t really help with that…”

“No one asked you too.” Harrow said, looking up briefly then back to her book.

“I know that dumb-dumb.” Gideon said shaking her head. “I just wanted to like… return the favor, I guess?”

Harrow had several counter points ready, like that she wasn’t the dumb-dumb if she was taking differential geometry, that she definitely didn’t need any help, that Gideon should just sit in the corner with her coloring book and crayons-

But none of them tasted right on her tongue. None of them were good. And the two of them were good now, so… it felt senseless being cruel. She opened her mouth to try something different- 

And at that moment Harrow’s phone rang. Her eyes went wide and her hand on instinct reached for it to flip it over. Hitting the silencer button and staring at Gideon like she’d just been pantsed in front of her.

Gideon just watched, and Harrow didn’t know how to move on from this moment. If she simply said something she wouldn’t be so beholden. But Gideon just looked at her with those stupid bright eyes… as if she knew it was her parents calling. And she probably did. Who else would be calling? Who else would she act so defensive around? Harrow eventually just swallowed and moved her hand away.

“So…” Gideon finally said. “You never had a Christmas Tree?”

Harrow sighed through her nose. “No.”

“Why is that?” Gideon asked gently. Too gently. Good was one thing, gentle was another she wasn’t ready to be with her. Or anyone for that matter. So Harrow scrunched her face, needing desperately to end this. And truly, to check her phone and respond.

“I need to take that.” She answered instead of her direct question.

Gideon tilted her head. “What if you didn’t respond?”

“What?” Harrow said, not having expected this turn in the conversation.

“What if you didn’t respond?” Gideon said again.

And that thought had… never really occurred to Harrow. It didn’t seem an option to be less than a premiere daughter. To be a disappointment was not the Nonagesimus way.

“They’d probably call again. Ask me what occurred for me to be so irresponsible with my correspondence. Tell me to be more astute next time and sigh into a deep, long silence… the way only deceptively disappointed parents can.” She said, imagining it and hating the feeling it put in her chest.

“Hmm… So nothing life-shattering?” Gideon said finally. Golden eyes still gentle. And they weren’t just gold in that moment. They were yellow and hazel and bronze and copper. They suddenly held many shades and it was intriguing to her… this new side of Griddle. Who’d have known there’d still be surprises this far into knowing her?

“No.” Harrow said, swallowing again, scrunching her brow. “Nothing awful would happen.”

“Hmm.” Gideon nodded. “But it still sounds like a pain.”

“Very much so.” Harrow agreed with a sigh that felt like admittance. Which was only a few steps removed from weakness.

Gideon hmm’d again and stood up with a groan, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Guess we better get moving.”

Harrow’s eyes shot up yet again (a frustrating thing to be happening this many times in the same conversation.) 

“Just tell me where you need to go in the car.” Gideon said, gesturing for her to pack up as well.

“Postal visits aren’t a part of the arrangement.” She said suddenly, very stilted, as if she needed to remind her and this would break the spell of kindness they’d found themselves in, but Gideon merely chuckled.

“Neither are library trips. Just pack your bag numb-nuts.”

*********

Gideon brought Harrow back by her place, pretty late as they tended to on study days. Sun was long gone. Clouds were already clocked out. The day had officially ended and they were still somehow running around together. But…

It felt like a good thing. Letting this thing become… friendly?

Was that a thing they could be? Friendly?

The game they’d played at lunch… had really been an interesting choice. She felt like she was never supposed to know that Harrow had never had a Christmas Tree. But now she knew. And she couldn’t go back to not knowing. And Harrow knew she knew, it wasn’t even something found out in secret or passing, it had been admitted. Freely. In front of people.

So what the fuck was Gideon supposed to do with that?

And the fact that those festive-less parents were never home... and kept calling? With ordering itineraries? That was weird.

Getting to the bottom of it was too much. Harrow would also make the journey there terribly difficult. Revealing even what she had today had been a lot, she didn’t think she’d dare parteth with another secret anytime soon.

But still, Gideon wanted to help with this. Not to help them, fuck them. They sucked. But to help Harrow who… maybe sucked less.

She came bounding back down the foyer to Gideon’s car, arms full of haphazardly stacked boxes and a poster tube, looking positively out of her element.

Gideon popped the trunk, then got out of the car to walk around and help lift the hatch so she could place the many parcels safely inside. She paused at the assistance then nodded like a hamster, and scurried to her seat in the car.

Alright, she definitely sucked less than them. They were actual destroyers of worlds.

They drove in mostly awkward silence to the post office. Harrow ran in, did her thing, took the picture of her confirmation codes, texted them away, and then they sat in the parking lot until they got some kind of receptive ding.

Harrow visibly relaxed after she had, leaning back in her seat and depositing her phone in the side of the door. Not moving, and something told Gideon she wouldn’t, so that seemed as good an invitation as any to turn the key and start the drive home. Through the one traffic light and around the two bends. It really was not out of the way as far as errands went for Gideon, but she was… glad she could do it for her.

“Gideon.” Came the voice from beside her, and holy shit, had she ever called her that? She’d certainly never said it that… calm. Not like an insult or a scientific name for pond scum, but like… she was a person. Or at least a tolerated pet.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Harrow said.

She smiled as she pulled around the corner.

“You’re welcome my femur-femme-fatale.”

She expected an ‘I didn’t thank you’ or a ‘seriously?’ at the nickname, or a scoffed huffy breath at the least.

Instead there was none of that.

Instead Harrow did something truly, factually, incredibly insane.

She turned up the volume knob on Gideon’s radio.

A song had just started with a light whistling echo, and Harrow leaned back in her seat, looking content.

It’s a light relief from a bad habit

It’s my mother’s cookin’ when I can’t have it

It’s the last train home from the day trippin’

It’s the place I know when I start slippin’

Darling, won’t you take me home?

Gideon almost drove into a hedge. This felt… sacred? Like actual fucking bonding.

She added the song to Harrow’s playlist with a smile, got a nod from Harrow, and took her the last few lanes over to her house.

When she got out of the car again, she paused with the door still open.

“Those things that were said to you at your class today… bothered you, didn’t they?”

Gideon paused, truthfully kind of having forgotten about it. But she tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel and nodded. Fuck it, if they were doing this bonding thing... she supposed honesty was important. One Flesh and One End and all.

“Yeah… they did. They shouldn’t. I know it’s just bullshit opinions but...” She shrugged, chip plainly on her shoulder.

“If it matters to you then let it. Just make them pay.” She said plainly. “Being underestimated can be a gift as much as a barb.”

With that she closed the door and did some kind of combination of prance and stomp to her front porch. Was that how she always walked? Had Gideon literally never watched?

She hummed a curious breath to herself and backed out of the driveway.

What a weird day.

*********

Two days later Gideon was practically vibrating. She was so full of adrenaline. One step away from straight up pumping her fists like she was Rocky after climbing all the damn stairs in the film. She’d handily put those twatsuckers in their place in the debate follow up.

Stating how assumption is the enemy of progress, and that if we only ever give people what they think they can handle we’d never have any surprises. Any triumphs. Any loves. And while opportunities wouldn’t ever be equally given, it shouldn’t be completely cut off to protect the perception of the elite. She probably said it with a lot more fuck-bombs and wild gesticulations. But she had won over the jury of her peers. Gotten a few claps. The teens had flashed her non-stop thumbs up.

And she walked out of that room feeling like a damn rockstar.

Then on top of it, email from the admission office telling her to stop by.

This was it.

This was the fucking news on if she’d earned any of the grants.

She could get on some loans if she had to, but scholarship’s would be highly preferable. Aiglamene was still paying some school bills off, and she was like 1000. Gideon had asked her why she bothered getting her doctorate to end up never using it, but she’d shrugged and said it was for herself and no one else. Gideon used to think that was kinda stupid, but now she thought it was gangster as hell.

So she walked into the admission’s office with some actual hope. Walked out with some news, and legitimately…

Thought she was going to start floating.

She’d gotten the silver scholarship from the local student body network. Awarded by a separate governing group than the one that turned her down. And not as much as she originally was going to get? But like 80% of the way there.

Holy.

Shit.

She was actually going to break into song and dance.

She couldn’t wait to tell Palamedes thank you, you’re a goddamn angel.

Couldn’t wait to tell Harrow… that she wasn’t going to have to find a new ride.

Fuck it, she was going to dance.

She untangled her headphones from her pocket while she was walking, slid in each earbud and picked a celebratory song while she headed off toward the fountain.

The beat started with excited claps and a piano riff like a cat running back and forth on the keys.

Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do

I’m not giving up, come on, we got nothing left to lose

I’ve been here from the start, you know I’m not going anywhere

I don’t give a fuck, tell me what you want

You can get it

The singer was practically screaming his enthusiasm and Gideon felt it in her bones. She was pumping her arms like an absolute ass, totally making a scene of herself, so wrapped up in her own little world not being total shit for a moment.

Bad vibes, bad blood been swinging like a boomerang

Literally nothing could shake her, she felt impenetrable, grinning ear to ear and hopping on the balls of her feet.

So tell me what you want right now,

You can get it

She danced into the crosswalk, didn’t hear anything besides the screech of tires, and then WHACK-

She got hit by a car.

Chapter Text

Harrow was sitting at the fountain with the teens and Camilla and Palamedes, eyeing annoyedly around at the lack of Griddle. She was supposed to have been here half an hour ago, and she was getting ready to storm off toward her next class and ask her why she’d stood them up. Especially today, when she may or may not hear from the admissions office.

She sent a quick text with a simple, ‘Where are you?’

And before she’d set the phone back in her pocket it started to ring, Gideon Nav the name on the screen. She slid it across and put it to her ear.

“Yes Griddle, I think we’re all thrilled to know why you’ve been keeping us waiting.”

“Hi, about that-“ Said a voice she didn’t recognize at all, a voice that was breathy and golden like a sunset and that Harrow instantly hated. “Apologies for your um, Griddle being late. She’s with us, and she needs someone to come get her. She’s had a rather bad day.”

Had a bad day? Was with this new ‘us?’ Needed someone to come get her?

None of this made sense, however the important part was-

“Where exactly is she?”

*********

Harrow suddenly found herself walking very swiftly with Palamedes and Camilla down an area known as Greek Row. She had thought it was a rumored place. Why would you put all of the wealthier students that could afford on-campus housing in a neighborhood of buildings with greek symbols? What sense was this? To simply buy your friends?

Pathetic.

But evidently it’s where Gideon was, and not for the immediate reason she’d thought.

She hadn’t known the location the girl was mentioning and had handed the phone to Palamedes with his worried grey eyes, thinking for some reason Gideon hadn’t gotten her scholarship and wandered off with a random pretty blonde to mourn?

It was an irrational algorithm, she admitted to herself afterwards, but she hadn’t known what else to make of the equation as it was coming at her.

She certainly hadn’t expected to hear that Gideon had been hit by a car.

That was a non-factual sentence.

But that was the synopsis they’d been given that lead them to this massive ornate house. Complete with a light up doorbell that played a deep set of chimes to announce their presence.

Harrow kept shaking out her hands and running her nails along her jeans. She needed an explanation, she felt like she was going crazy around it.

When the door opened it looked like a caricature of an imp pretending to be a woman. Hunched and gangly and made of wax.

“You’re here for the mutt I hope?” She said with a quick assessing gaze between the three of them.

“Um, we’re here for our friend that you hit with a car.” Palamedes said, a slight up-tick to his eyebrows at the phrasing. Harrow didn’t care for it either. She ran her nails across her jeans a little faster to keep from slashing them across this charlatan’s face.

“That’s an awful strong accusation. We merely witnessed the accident. No one said we were driving.” She said in a faux dramatic tone.

“Well your car might if you have a dent in the shape of our friend on it.” Camilla said, arms crossed.

“Tut-tut.” The girl said with her streaky pale hair and squinty eyes. Clearly playing this like a game. “How about, rather than throw a wrench at our good hospitality…”

She put a hand to her chest and looked at them borderline challenging.

“You instead come gather your friend from the puddle she’s staining on the carpet?”

Palamedes and Camilla nodded, though looking none too satisfied.

“Goodie. She’s in the sun room. Poor thing.” She stepped aside for them to enter and they did, eyeing their host. Harrow followed like an angry little cat.

“Why bring her here if it’s such a bother? You claim you had no involvement in the accident.” Camilla asked, gauging the situation. That was something Harrow was trying to figure out too.

“Was my sister’s decision.” She said with clear dismissal. “Silly thing would bring in injured birds all the time when we were kids, forgetting she knew absolutely nothing about how to care for them.”

They entered further into this elaborate house and Harrow could make out a group of voices up ahead.

On the green upholstered couch, sprawled out with an ice pack on her forehead was Gideon. Looking absolutely delirious and with her head in the lap of the in color version of the person that had answered the door.

This person was like a neon light if it was embodied. Looked like a breathy and busty nurse you’d see on some kind of soap opera. She was chatting with Gideon and looking at her in a way Harow couldn’t explain, but it made her want to skin her.

“Oh and we gave her something for the pain.” The first girl said rather in passing, flouncing away down a hall. But Harrow caught the way her eye glimmered. She wouldn’t go far. She was enjoying the show.

“Something? What something?” Palamedes asked, raising an eyebrow.

She waved her hand non-consequentially. “Something.”

The bright, golden girl on the couch was talking and Gideon’s head was lulled to the side like she could barely hold it up until she saw Harrow, then she sat up with some dopey grin on her face, which made the roadrash on her cheek and neck and arm far more obvious.

“Harrrrrooooowwwwwww.” Gideon smiled wonkily. “Holy shit is youuu. Good, I hadda… hadda tell you sumethin.”

“Later.” She said through her teeth. “Come, we’re leaving.”

“Oh you’re Harrow!” The golden girl said, smiling up at her and the others. “That’s so wonderful of you all to come, she’s had a rather tough time.”

“So we’ve heard. Best we get her home.” Palamedes said, coming over to retrieve her as she pushed up to standing and stumbled herself along the wall with a groan.

“Palllllllllllll.” Gideon smiled again. “Hey did you know… if you took tha first three letters… of your first name, and yur last, it’d make-“

“Yes, yes. You’ve told me this before.” He said, cutting off her Sex Pal joke for maybe the tenth time. “You can tell me again once we’re not bleeding over a strangers foyer.”

“Hmm… is you bleeding too Pal Sex?” She raised an eyebrow, concerned, and Camilla looped an arm under her broad shoulder while she was distracted, scooting her toward the door.

“He meant the royal we. Lean on my side and move those legs.”

“Mmkay. That’s a good idear. My foot feels funny.”

Harrow looked down and could see where her pants had torn and the blood was drying around her shin. They somehow got outside and Harrow saw the way Gideon was wincing at every step. Her left arm was held close to her body, but her wrist was hanging rather limp, like she intentionally wasn’t moving it. She had a slight stumble to her gait, and her breath even sounded off. It was an odd realization how much she knew of Gideon’s patterns and mannerisms now that she was seeing their absence.

“I don’t feel so awesome.” Gideon said, hanging her head and sighing. “Sucks, I felt real-real awesome befur.”

“We’ll get you sorted. Where’s your car Gideon?” Camilla asked her, looking around.

“Hmm… wherever I leffft it.” She said, creasing her eyes at the sunlight.

“She’s in the Valancy garage.” Harrow answered. “That’s where she parks on Fridays.”

Camilla nodded, walking her a few more steps, at least out the gothic style gates. (What could they possibly need gates for at this academic building? Harrow really hated this place and wished to never come back.)

She sat Gideon down on the curb with a groan from the red-head and Camilla Hect’s version of an apology, a crease at the eyes.

“Keys? I’ll go get it.”

“And then what?” Gideon asked, tilting her head up at her. Harrow reached over her and fished in her pocket to retrieve the keys, handing them to Camilla while she was still staring.

“Then I’ll bring you back to my place so we can get you sorted out.”

Gideon frowned.

“But I gotta drive Harrow home.”

There was an odd feeling at that. Something kind of sizzling under her skin at the mention that even in her foggy state where she could only remember innuendos and not where her own car was… she remembered her duty to Harrow. 

“That’s the long term goal. Short term, I’m going to get your car.” She rose and Palamedes followed suit, flashing them a thumbs up.

“You’ve got this?” He asked Harrow and she nodded curtly, because it would be embarrassing to actually yell for him to stay and babysit. She could handle this. Of course she could.

Gideon barely kept herself up as they disappeared. They sat quietly for a moment, until Gideon hummed and jerked her head after them.

“Shit, she doesn’t have the keys.” Gideon garbled.

“Yes she does.” Harrow said, rolling her eyes.

“She- how?” Gideon cocked a brow toward her. “How can she have em silly, when I still-“

“Check your pocket.” Harrow cut her off dryly.

Gideon blew a raspberry, then reached down to her pocket with her right hand, still avoiding her left, and then looked confused and started patting her sides.

“I gave her the keys.” Harrow said calmer. “Now can you relax?”

“You’re sneakyyy.” Gideon said, turning and resting her head like a lead weight on Harrow’s shoulder.

Harrow’s eyes practically shot out of her head like bullets, and she had to fight the instinct to push her away, slap her face, ask her what in the nine hells she was doing. But she remembered she was not in her right mind. Or else she would never…

So she sighed a breath through her nose, lowered her shoulders fraction by fraction, and allowed the contact.

“I had to tell you something.” Gideon said, looking out and ahead, sounding a little less wobbly than before.

“You mentioned.” Harrow said, trying to stay calm and not think about the feeling of her skin on Harrow’s shoulder. Her hair brushing the side of her cheek. Pulling away felt aggressive, and rude while she was struggling to hold herself upright. She could endure.

“I got it.” Gideon said, voice sounding proud.

And it took Harrow a moment to realize what she meant.

“The grant?”

Gideon nodded, and with a groan pushed up to smile at her. Harrow realized there was blood stuck to her teeth when she saw her smile.

“Silver status baby. I don’t have to drop out.”

“Silver-“ Harrow frowned. She’d read over her papers herself, seen her work and progress. By all requirements she should have had gold. They had no reason to deny her that.

“Isn’t it great? I don’t have to go now.” Gideon smiled. “I wanted to tell you- to thank you. You know, it’s… it’s… you’re an angel.”

Harrow felt her cheeks do something unexpected and burn. “Pardon?”

“Like the top of a fucking Christmas Tree. Even though we never had one.” She chuckled and leaned back into Harrow, and Harrow sighed.

Alright fine, silver was good. Everything didn’t need to be a battle today

She considered for a moment, then reached up with her hand and awkwardly tapped the side of her head.

“Congratulations Griddle.” She considered her words. “You’ve done very well.”

Gideon hummed on her shoulder.

“See? I knew you liked me.” She chuckled.

Harrow felt her body stiffen. She was ready to fire away with… something.

But blessedly there was a honk as Camilla was driving over in the familiar Dodge Dart.

“Come on, get up.” She huffed, and Gideon grumbled pathetically at moving.

Twenty minutes later they were in Camilla Hect’s living room. It would’ve taken 5 minutes if not for the injured Griddle whining the entire time.

“I really think we should take you to the emergency room.” Palamedes insisted for the fourth time as they’d pulled into the driveway.

“Why? It’s not broken.” Gideon huffed.

“You’re that confident?” Palamedes challenged.

“Broken em all enough times to know a break verse a sprain. Calm your tits Pal.” Gideon blew another raspberry.

“You’ve broken your ribs enough times to confidently tell me that the car that hit you couldn’t have possibly done serious damage?”

“YeAh.” Gideon said, flopping her head against the window. “It feels bad, make-no-mistake, but I’m not gonna keel over and die.”

Palamedes looked unconvinced, and looked to Camilla pleadingly.

“Gid, when was the first time you broke your ribs?”

“Twelve.” She said into the window glass, muffling it weird. “And bruised and fractured them many times since. This feels like that.”

Camilla looked at Palamedes and shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

Palamedes tried to politely pout and then they ultimately came inside. Camilla seemed about as excited as Harrow to have people in her space but hid it well, and made to move Gideon to the guest room. The place looked exactly like a space Camilla would inhabit. There was little to no personal effects. Everything was grey or white or a combination of grey and white.

“Alright sailor, we need you to rest this off for a bit and then we’ll see about getting you home.”

”Mmkay.” Gideon mumbled, looking really out of it.

Palamedes paced in the front doorway until yelling after them, “Cam, first aid kit in the usual spot?”

“Yeah, but we’re going to need a lot of stuff I don’t have. Run to the store after I settle down McBleedy over here?”

“Yes please.” Palamedes said, continuing his pacing, then turning dramatically to go to the hallway bathroom and check the current kit.

After rocking on her feet for a few moments she decided to follow where they were putting Gideon. Camilla sat her down onto the bed and she groaned, clearly in pain before flopping onto her back and breathing slow and heavy.

“I’m going to bring you some Motrin. Take it, then take a nap. We’ll be back.”

“Sorry I’m bleeding on your sheets.”

“The blood has to go somewhere after a blunt trauma injury I’m afraid.” Camilla said incredibly dry. “But I’m sure the cotton will survive.”

Harrow hovered in the doorway looking at Gideon lying still, breathing, wincing every few moments. Arm still hanging unnaturally and sad. It was so odd seeing Gideon stripped back to this injured… helpless thing.

Alright, helpless was a bit far, but wounded? Distressed? It made her extremely… protective. And whether or not those sisters had hit her with their car they were certainly on her list.

Perhaps the intention had been kind, truly to alleviate, but the outcome? This unguarded, childlike Gideon? Made her think it had not been. This seemed more like they’d acted in a way for their own gain or entertainment.

While she was glaring off into space Camilla appeared beside her with a glass of water and two little orange pills.

“Make her take these. We’ll be right back.” She turned having given her instructions. Set Gideon’s keys on the table and scooped up her own, then her and Palamedes were gone and it was just the two of them.

Harrow sighed through her nose and crossed into the room.

“Griddle.” She said formally. When she didn’t move she tried again. “Nav.”

She got a mumble with her eyes screwed shut and sighed, kneeling beside the bed now.

“Gideon.” She said, forcing her tone to be gentle and seeing those gold eyes foggily blink awake to look at her. Her stomach did some kind of swooping thing, like a witch on a broom. “Camilla said you need to take these.”

She held out her hand with the offerings and Gideon’s eyes stayed on her for two… three… four blinks before she seemed to understand the mission and relent her understanding. She took the pills and tossed them in her mouth, accepted the water next and drank it from this odd angle, spilling it down her cheeks and neck.

Harrow took the cup before she spilled the rest of it completely over the guest pillows and set it down on the nightstand.

Gideon just kept blinking at her like she was waiting for further instruction.

“Sleep now Griddle. It will be alright.”

She nodded relieved and closed her eyes again, snuggling into the pillow and seemingly surrendering to whatever fog those little capsules had wanted to put her under.

Harrow stood with every intent to leave the room and yet, paused.

“How did you break your ribs at twelve Griddle?” She said quite sporadically. “Seems hard for a kid to have hit you that hard.”

She didn’t care about the answer, she told herself. But then why ask? She heard another voice counter. She promptly ignored that voice.

“Wasn’t a kid.” Gideon mumbled. Not opening her eyes. “Told you, family two sucked.”

And that.

Harrow felt a fist clenching her innards. She definitely didn’t care. It didn’t matter. But she was gripping the handle of the doorway so tight she thought she’d dented it.

She looked back and Gideon’s golden foggy eyes were looking at her again.

She wasn’t supposed to know this. Gideon would have never told her this. It was a violation, and… she couldn’t pretend she didn’t care. Because simply put-

She did. Infinitely.

It made what she knew worse. It made sitting next to her in a car worse. It made existing in her orbit and being unable to do a thing about her pain worse. Everything was worse because she cared.

She closed the door in response, leaned her slight weight against the wall panel, and slid down to sit.

That would be where Camilla and Palamedes found her when they got back.

*********

When Gideon came to she was lying on her back with a dry mouth and a deep soreness in her bones that makes her wish she was still asleep.

“The fuck?” She muttered, looking around and taking in where she was. The memories came back to her in fuzzy little bits.

Getting the grant. Getting hit by a car. Some blonde and gremlin scraping her off the road. Giving her what she thought was aspirin. For the pain, the golden one had said, and she’d dumbly taken it and gotten much more than she’d bargained for.

To be fair, the pain had gone away, so there was that.

It was back now, which sucked ass.

The door to the room opened and in came Camilla and Palamedes.

“Good to see you’re up.” Palamedes said, coming closer slowly with that pitying smile. Maybe it wasn’t pity, maybe it was just concern. Hard to tell in the low light.

“What time is it?” Gideon said, clearing her throat as Camilla crossed over with a full glass of water and slid it into her hand. She greedily and gladly chugged it, ultimately spilling a good bit in her haste.

“Late. Past dinner.”

“Geez.” Gideon said, coughing on all the water she just chugged and handing the cup back. “Where’s Harrow? She okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s in the living room, and of the two of you she was the one not hit by a car today.” Camilla said very plainly.

“Yeah figured.” Gideon said, looking away and clutching a hand to her chest.

“Look, I know before you said you didn’t want to go to the emergency room-“

“And I don’t.” Gideon agreed.

“But, I was hoping you’d reconsider.”

“Nope. Thanks for trying though.” Gideon said, turning to rise up out of the bed. Fuck that sucked. Standing. Sucked almost as sitting. Which sucked only a little less than lying down.

“Gideon, I really think-“

“I know you do.” Gideon interrupted. And then she sighed, steadying a hand on the bed frame to hold herself up proper. “I know you do. Really. I know you mean well and I… appreciate where you’re coming from. I just… I don’t have any kind of health insurance, alright? So yeah, this sucks. And this hurts. And I just have to tough it out for now, because worse than this pain would be trying to dig myself out of that fucking hole.”

She was already in a pretty bad one. But she didn’t need to tell them that part.

She saw them share a look and with 0 expression changes, have a whole conversation.

Eventually when Palamedes turned back to her she could tell by his face they were going to drop it. Couldn’t tell shit by Cam’s but that wasn’t new.

“Alright then, just need my keys and my copilot.” She said, pushing off the post and hobbling to the door where she saw Harrow sitting in a little dark ball on the couch. She looked so small… Gideon had never seen her sit on a couch. That was a weird thought, but this… living room setting was all new for them. And the way she sat… legs up and knees pressed to her chest. Like she was trying to take up as little room as possible.

She was looking at Gideon with an odd expression too. One she couldn’t quite read, so she didn’t try. Too long and lousy a day. “Ready to go?”

She didn’t say anything back initially, just kept that expression, before eventually nodding.

“Good, gotta get home to bleed some more.” She said, trying for sarcastic, and to cover up the pain with humor. Partially worked.

Like her lungs.

But in the car Harrow was just the same. A small, quiet ball that was looking off in the distance or stealing peaks at Gideon herself.

“You gonna keep looking at me like a fucking monkey who can talk?” Gideon muttered after all the silence. Her body hurt but whatever kind of condolences this was did more.

“I’m not looking at you.” Harrow said in the weakest lie. One they both knew was bullshit, so seemed like a weird choice to waste the air on.

“Mmkay.” Gideon said, letting her know she didn’t believe her. “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

She sighed to the lack of answer, sensing she probably wouldn’t. But then Harrow shifted, crossed her little arms and looked out the window.

“You told me some things… when you were hurt that you didn’t mean to.”

Gideon cocked a brow.

“What? About the ribs when I was twelve thing?”

And then Harrow’s expression was some kind of devoid record scratch that was a bit terrifying if Gideon looked at it too long.

“Or was it something worse? Shit, did I tell you my sex dreams or somethi-“

“No Griddle.” She cut her off thankfully, because Gideon had no idea how that sentence was going to end. “You- you know you told me that?”

“Yeah?” She asked confused.

“But-“ And Harrow furled and unfurled her lip about 17 times, just a bunch of micro-panic laced movements. “Why tell me that?”

Gideon shrugged. “Probably cause you asked? Weirdo.”

Then Harrow’s face stalled all together.

They drove in this next phase of awkward silence for another stretch and Gideon just accepted it. Nonagesimus wasn’t going to tell her why, and forcing her when she didn’t want to talk about something never really worked. Plus Gideon had to bite her tongue every time they drove over uneven road to keep from swearing, which was a lot in this little shit town.

She pulled up to her house blessedly short after that, and Harrow’s expression had evidently still not worked out what it needed to. So they sat in silence in the driveway until Gideon reclined her seat, trying to find a better angle for her bruised innards. If they were gonna commit to this odd, silent conversation, at least she could be more comfortable about it.

Harrow finally turned and stared at her very intently, and said words she was so sure she was hallucinating she didn’t even bother to pretend they were real.

“Text me when you get home.” Came out of Harrow’s beady little mouth and Gideon chuckled one stunned breath. Because no fucking way she said that, but okay it was easier to nod and pretend than ask her to repeat herself.

Of course, concussed, drugged, and internally bleeding Gideon was projecting care onto the closest available surface. 

Harrow looked at her with something new, which was interesting. Her and Harrow didn’t have a lot of ‘new' terrain to cover after their entire life’s of overlap. It was probably an evolution of extreme pity- but then she leaned her hand over the center console and rested it over Gideons. That… was harder to hallucinate. Her hands were freaking freezing for one. And their pressure was specific and exact and… huh.

Gideon just watched it for a moment. Transfixed. Like a cobra staring down a snake charmer.

Until Harrow turned, hopped out of the car, and practically ran to the front door. Gone in a blur.

“What the fuck?” Gideon muttered to herself staring after the ghost of the dark dressed girl that had just been sitting in her seat. Then she realigned her chair with a groan and drove the few blocks home.

*********

In the morning Gideon woke to a lot of pain in her ribs, holy shit. Like a lot. Did she get hit by a-

Oh yeah, duh. She did.

She slowly worked her way to sitting with an unimaginable groan that could shake the pyramids, and immediately thought it wasn’t worth it. Yeah fuck consciousness, she was going to use the bathroom and head right back to bed.

Shuffling inside sucked. She got a look from Aiglamene shot her way from the living room, but otherwise she said nothing and stumbled herself back out to the shed.

She got back in bed and slept again. And for the next 48 hours this was kind of the pattern. She’d shuffle into the house, shuffle back out. Sleep. A lot. She did notice some Tylenol left on the counter after the first day and took it as her way of caring.

By Monday she was sort of more awake. More alert. Palamedes and Cam had convinced her to take the week off school to recover. She’d agreed that was a good idea, and realized now she forgot to email her professors why she wasn’t coming in. She needed to find her phone and do that. She hadn’t even bothered checking the thing. Just cocooning while the internal bleeding became a little less apparent.

When she’d taken a shower and looked at herself she’d felt pretty disgusted. Her torso was like one big fucking bruise. Couldn’t be good. Maybe she’d grab some frozen peas on the way out. The swelling was going down in her wrist and ankle, a lil bit, which was lucky. Those suckers hurt when you broke em. So she’d wrapped em in ace bandages and called it a day.

Have to do for now.

She stumbled through the kitchen and heard Aiglamene call out quite surprisingly. 

“Check your damn phone. She called the house again.”

Huh?

Gideon pulled a face of confusion and looked around for Aiglamene but didn’t even see her, and yelling was more energy than she had left, so she took the peas and headed back to her room.

At the shed she fought the urge to flop on the bed and instead found her phone, fallen on the floor between her mattress and nightstand. Took an embarrassing amount of time and pain to kneel down and get it. She thought about quitting a few times and saying to hell with it, but finally got her hand in there, pulled it free, and slowly got back to standing so she could plug it in to power.

Once she saw that dead battery logo she sighed in success and let herself collapse on the bed with the frozen peas under her shirt against the worst of her bruising. She groaned as she got as comfortable as she could and slowed her breathing.

There were a few back to back dings on her phone as it powered on and she reached over as painlessly as she could to lift the screen and see her notifications.

The one at the top that surprised her the most was a missed call from Harrow Nonagesimus.

She scrolled down to texts checking in from her little squad and one from the pizza shop, which was hilariously low on priorities.

But a missed message from Harrow from Saturday morning.

You never texted me you were home.

She just blinked a few times. Not quite comprehending.

‘She called the house again.’

That sentence hadn’t made sense, because it meant Harrow was… checking on her?

Okay she’d definitely died and woken up in some alternate universe.

you were serious bout that?

She sent back, and before she’d even set the phone down it pinged in response.

I am always serious Griddle.

Gideon shook her head with a smile.

yeah, guess you are. sorry i kind of went immediately unconscious

For nearly 3 days?

looks like it. didn’t charge my phone

I will forgive it this one time on account of the blunt force trauma.

thank you my meniscus mistress, much appreciated

Harrow went quiet and that was expected and fine, and Gideon checked the time on her little beat up clock.

you still on the bus?

She wasn’t sure why she asked. It wasn’t like she cared-

Yes. There is currently a man on the back talking to a milk carton.

Gideon smiled again, wide and calm and there was this little candle lighting in her chest.

dang, they talking bout anything good?

I’m not eavesdropping on a milk carton conversation Griddle.

what, you’re lactose in-talk-otent?

… Griddle

come on that was a good one

In no way shape or form.

spoil sport :p

Gideon smiled again, resting a hand over her ribs and mathing out how much longer she had on her ride.

you got your headphones?

Yes. Rewatched the questions at the end of my last Physics lecture, why?

She tapped her phone on the side a few times in thought, before typing her message.

if i sent you a song would you listen to it?

Harrow’s bubble started and stopped, then started and stopped, then finally the three dots turned into a message.

What song?

Not being turned down Gideon loaded up YouTube as fast as her little phone could. She hadn’t expected confirmation. This was arms to battlestations.

She scrolled through a recent list, saw one that matched how she felt, and sent it.

this one’s how it feels to get hit by a car

Most of your songs make me feel like that Griddle.

She sent her back a middle finger emoji. Then hit play on the song for herself.

The intro synth and guitar were iconic, and she’d adored them from the first time she’d heard it.

I got intrusive thoughts, like cutting my hands off

Like jumping in front of a bus, like how do I make this stop?

It was upbeat and painful and perfect. Girl in Red was really onto something.

When the song ended she swiped back to her messages app and waited to see if there was any reaction. She tapped her finger against the side again and then after about ten seconds of staring she thought that this might be… pathetic. Right? This wasn’t a thing they did. She should go back to sleep really-

And then her phone dinged and she looked and saw Harrow’s message.

Quite aggressive Griddle.

but did you like it?

It wasn’t awful.

Fucking score. She added it to Harrow’s playlist immediately after.

*********

A week of the bus again made Harrow realize how much she really hated public transportation. The last time she’d been on it had been under the guise of purpose and spite and protecting herself. With that reasoning gone it was hard to remember why anyone would put themselves through it.

But Gideon needed to heal, that could not be debated. And some time apart would be fine.

She just hadn’t expected the texting.

She supposed she’d done a poor job dissuading it. After the first day she should have absolutely stopped responding, but it felt like kicking a puppy to leave that large dolt on her own.

She’d beloath to admit that she’d been worried about her since she’d mentioned she didn’t have health insurance and had to instead, simply heal. If she’d found this information out a month ago, years ago, maybe even the day before she was hit by a car it would not have gathered as much as a fleeting thought in her mind.

But now she felt very aware of what that meant for her now, and what that must have meant for her past.

So, she was texting her back. At first only meant to be things that kept her from getting expelled, like reminding her to email her professors, or to check on her assignments on the online portal to not fall too behind and need Harrow to help dig her out later.

Then there had been the songs that came, very Griddle of her, and she had relented and listened and given her feedback.

Which, in true Nav fashion, lead to her recreating the exercise and sending a song daily. Most were simply noise, but a few were not entirely terrible.

Harrow still joined in with the group for lunch on their set days, and she’d text Gideon the general transcript of what they talked about, feeling like it was an obligation, but also seeing how much it clearly meant to her from her responses.

So fine.

They were texting.

It was what it was.

And then after a few days, it was simply… normalized.

*********

Harrow jumped off the bus on Thursday that week to a torrential downpour, and before she could contemplate if she should put her bag over her head or curl around it to protect the contents with her shoddy little body, there was that stupid Dodge Dart with the red door, waiting at the edge of the bus stop. She shuffled over to it with no prelude needed.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” She said immediately scrupulous once in the car.

Gideon just smiled, reflective sunglasses on in the rain and shifting her car into drive as Harrow buckled her seatbelt.

“I have been resting.” She clarified. “But it’s a typhoon out there. You’ll get washed away and then I’ll have to come fish you out of some drain pipe. This is saving future me a lot of work.”

Harrow rolled her eyes, but settled in and studied her form out of the corner of her eye. Noticeably less hunched and miserable. Wrist wrapped, but not keeping weight off of it.

“For the record, typhoons only form in the Northwest hemisphere. Otherwise it’s a cyclone or hurricane.”

“You ever shut up Harr?” She said back with no bite. She’d daresay with fondness.

They drove the not-particularly long drive in comfortable quiet. Though it couldn’t really be called quiet with the music basically screaming between her skull.

She could let it be just that. She could ask her about 100 other things, but that felt the safe thing to breech while they had this time together.

“Why must you always play your music so loud Griddle?” She asked with her usual amount of annoyance. The tame kind that was meant to be more familiar than judgmental.

“Because…” She started, ready to throw some snappy answer back in their usual ping pong volley, but then she morphed to something more truthful. “Then I can’t hear the bad thoughts.”

Harrow stared deeper into her profile which now belayed some kind of vulnerability she was seeing more and more recklessy.

“What are your bad thoughts Griddle?” She asked, soft to match.

Gideon stared ahead, a noticeable gulp down the side of her throat, and still tapping her fingers to the beat of the synth. Then she took the volume knob between her fingers and lowered it to a mere murmur, leaving only a ringing in Harrow’s ears.

“Your parents never wanted you Gideon. No one ever wanted you Gideon. You take more than you give. Your degree won’t matter. You called that kid ugly in third grade. Why’d you do that? What do you want?” Then she was turning the knob back up and her words were being muffled out by the chorus and drums, and Gideon bobbed her head and mouthed along, losing her earlier train of thought. Or willingly leaving it behind.

‘Who in here trying to start a riot?!’

Then she turned back to look at Harrow, a deep, saddened look even behind those sunglasses. One that didn’t belong there.

“Now all I hear is bass.”

They pulled up to Harrow’s house shortly after that, and Gideon nodded to the door.

“Go dry off dork.” She smirked, and Harrow was confounded. Is this how they were going to be now? Just spilling secrets and truths and heart?

“You’re awfully sharey as of late.”

“You keep asking questions.” She countered.

“I don’t expect you to answer them truthfully, where’s the fun in that Griddle?”

“You could always stop asking.” She said in a way that meant she knew she had Harrow bested and that she knew Harrow probably wouldn’t stop.

Harrow somehow also knew she probably wouldn’t stop… 

How odd.

Friday morning Harrow stepped onto the bus, took her seat, and started unwrapping her headphones, sensing that with their usual pattern she should be expecting-

Ding.

Her phone buzzed with a message from the familiar Gideon Nav.

Alright, gonna try something different today. Watch this music video.

A link followed and Harrow cocked a brow. 

A video, Griddle? It is an awful amount you ask of me.

You’re sitting on a bus to nowhere for the next 2 hours and 23 minutes. Enjoy the video ya prick.

Harrow cracked an almost smile but rolled her eyes and clicked it.

It started with a zoom in on a static television and panned to the side of some 70’s looking living room set with tacky wallpaper and a yellow couch. 

Turn off the TV, it's starting to freak me-

Out it’s so loud, it’s like my ears are bleeding-

There were some zoom-ins on the singer, an eventual zoom out to reveal some other figures there, doing a choreographed dance of sorts in bright outfits that match the room.

But there was one very distracting detail that had her pause the video and slide out to her messages.

She’s very underdressed Griddle.

The singer was in bloomers and a shiny white bra. A sheer shoulder shawl that covered nothing.

Is this the only reason you wished to show me the video? To be vulgar?

Don’t be such a prude, come on. Watch it.

Harrow rolled her eyes. She was hardly a prude.

Pleassseeeeeeeeeee. Trust me.

Gideon followed up with and she ultimately clicked the link to return to the video.

She finished watching it, and at a point in the song where the music dropped a heavy synth kicked in and all the figures collapsed besides the singer and she started wrecking the set.

There was something… powerful about it? Chosen chaos. Hmm.

At the end the other figures were gone and she was knocking over the lamp, smashing the vase, throwing the popcorn and ripping the wallpaper. It ended with her sitting on the couch and smoking a cigarette, and the chandelier off screen falling and shattering in front of her on the table.

Hmm.

Her phone dinged again while she was considering her response.

So, what’d ya think?

I think she was in knickers.

Can’t you appreciate the frantic energy?

She sent her message and followed it up with immediate bubbles and Harrow waited, knowing she was going to get a Gideon monologue.

It’s about freedom, about not feeling like you have to cover up and dealing with the shit underneath… And yeah, helps she’s cute, alright?

Harrow rolled her eyes.

But she’s letting something out, the way only dancing in your underwear in the living room can.

She considered the ludicrousness of the sentence… and then considered it longer… and then went back to the video and watched it again.

This time Harrow really watched the video, following the way her body moved. The lines that she drew, the haphazard way she shook, and she could admit… though it was more skin than she normally saw or appreciated… there was a carefree quality. A carelessness. A vulnerableness.

You solve many problems by dancing in your underwear Griddle?

Wouldn’t you like to know ;)

She did not blush. Because Harrow absolutely never blushed, and she certainly wasn’t blushing now.

Come on Harr, don’t tell me you’ve never just let your hair down.

And that did not deserve a response, so Harrow stowed her phone and did not think about that conversation for the rest of the day.

But at night…

Harrow had packed her bags away, made her light meal, done her night time routine and now... was looking around the empty living room as she had a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

She considered… something. Shook her head of it and went back to the sink to rinse. Hung her towels, moved the laundry, went back to her room to change into her pajamas and…

Paused again.

She sighed, looking briefly down at her body, and went back to the living room… halfway between changing, and set down her laptop with the next song that was in the mix after her previous selections from the day.

She had seen the title and decided… she wanted to listen to it.

So she fired up the video named, Paint My Bedroom Black.

It started with a slow beat. Something with kicks. Not unpleasant.

Well, you kicked his lazy ass out of your life and

Suddenly you don't hate yourself and now you’re flyin'

Somehow you dont hate yourself and now you’re flyin'

And was it everything you wanted?

Harrow… stepped lightly around the room. Sort of like walking to the beat. Not dancing. Dancing would be silly. She wasn’t going to be silly.

I’m gonna paint my bedroom black

I'm gonna turn my music up

I'm gonna drown you out tonight

I'm gonna drown you out tonight

I'm gonna board my windows shut

I'm gonna tear my posters up

I'm gonna paint my bedroom black

And Harrow was waving her arms slightly, front and back to the beat, and she was letting the music play… enjoying it… letting some of her hatred for this room… simmer.

This room was one she never liked spending time in. With her mothers diplomas and her fathers miniatures, and both of their decor’s set just so. Everything was meant to be dusted and preserved and neither touched nor moved.

And she was caretaker to this room she hated.

Her arms were moving more now. Less planned. Less reserved. Fuck you Nav, she could let her hair down.

Finally Im living, not surviving

And it’s funny you said I’d never have the guts

Well, suck it up

I’m gonna bottle up this feeling.

She swayed a bit more.

And a bit more. And… it was almost nice. Not thinking about it so much.

Taking a moment that was truly hers in this room she hated that no one else ever even entered, besides herself. A room that is a mausoleum as much as is a house.

She swayed a bit more, turning her hips and then heard a sudden shatter that broke her from her reverie.

She’d clipped the corner of a table and sent an empty vase to the ground in pieces.

Her eyes were wide and she stared at the remnants, trying to remember the last time it had held any flowers… or even marbles or fake lemons.

Hmm.

Years ago perhaps.

She paused the song and thought there’d be a sense of… remorse? Annoyance was present yes, but that was really all. She stared at the shards catching the light outside the blinds and eventually sighed an exhausted sound.

Then went and gathered a broom and dustpan.

As she deposited the pieces into the waste bin she was struck with another sudden inspiration, and after going back to her room, redressing in sleep clothes, and considering it for another ten minutes while lying restless in bed, she did something truly… unlike her.

She opened her phone, loaded the song in a message, and sent it to Gideon Nav.

She stared at her handiwork, blinked a few times, and then added a hasty message.

Know this one?

Her phone dinged back at her immediately.

Am I in a fucking coma, or did YOU just send ME a song?

Harrow rolled her eyes. She didn’t respond because she had already asked a question Gideon had not answered. But she saw it come in moments later.

Didn’t know this song, but know the artist. I can show you some more of her next week when we’re driving in?

Harrow considered... looked at the blinking cursor... and typed back.

That would be fine.

Bet.

Chapter Text

“Griddle it is not up for debate.”

“Will you come off it?” Gideon said with a dramatic sigh.

“No, because someone endured traumatic blunt force trauma, internal bleeding, and has barely been able to stand unaccompanied in a week.”

“All exaggerations.” Gideon argued, turning up the volume on the song, but Harrow didn’t seem fooled. “I will be fine.”

Sure, more of her was bruised than she’d like to admit, but she could walk herself to class without a freaking chaperone. She had some dignity left that hadn’t been scraped off on the pavement. She pulled up to the curb outside Harrow’s lab and shifted into park, punctuating her sentence and luckily ending the argument. Or, so she thought.

Really she should have known better than to think it would be that easy.

Harrow simply turned to look at her and raised a brow, making no other movement to get out of the car.

Gideon wove her hand as if to remind her that the car had indeed stopped and it was customary to leave at this time.

And yet, like a petulant statue, she was unmoved.

They blinked at each other for a few uncomfortable seconds until a car honked behind them.

“You’re seriously not getting out?” She dead-panned, though this felt a bit like a kindergarten fight she was reliving. If history told her anything it’s that one of them was going to get called snot-for-brains, and that she was probably going to lose.

Harrow merely crossed her arms and turned to face her. “I am walking you to class, because if you collapse and die I wish to be there to witness it.”

Gideon gave up, shifting the car back. Dignity be damned she supposed. “Careful Nonagesimus, that almost sounded like you cared.”

*********

On Monday’s about halfway through the semester, Harrow’s lab had become optional. She had been going all year purely because she preferred a routine and structure, not because she needed the extra lab time. She had clocked more than enough hours for this semester, and the new projects came out at the Wednesday labs, but still, she went. It was routine.

That was before her co-pilot had been hit by a car driven by Malibu Barbie and her whore sister.

So now… she was going to class with Gideon.

Well, at least get her to the building. Sitting in her class would be odd. Almost as odd as whatever this whole thing was.

Almost sounded like you cared.

This was annoying. She felt it was established that she cared enough to keep Gideon alive. They didn’t need to make a big song and dance of it.

Gideon did manage to get to class uninhibited as she was all too happy to point out. To which Harrow pointed out she stopped twice to tie her shoes. Shoes that had no laces. Gideon didn’t talk much after that.

She got to the classroom door and held it open, looking over her shoulder at Harrow, who must have stared back quite blankly.

“Well?” Gideon asked.

“I’m not coming in.” Harrow said like it was obvious. “That would be weird Griddle.”

“It’s definitely way fucking weirder if you don’t come in.” Gideon said, shifting slightly to the side to let another group of kids walk past. “Come on, we’re gonna get the shit seats. Get a move on.”

So now they actually had gone to class together. On Monday.

And then again on Wednesday… because it was easier to walk her there after lunch than to watch her stumble halfway across campus.

And then Thursday… during Harrow’s last class Gideon decided to come sit in her Biochemistry lecture for some unknown reason.

Harrow asked her why, but she just shrugged with her hands in her pockets.

“Cause… I was just gonna sit in my car or the library anyway.”

When Harrow didn’t say anything she added, “Can get on the road sooner for the drive back.”

Harrow nodded, supposing that made logical sense.

It also was logical to continue this arrangement for a second week. Because Griddle was recovering and stubborn and probably dumb enough to hurt herself if left to her own devices.

By the third week Harrow didn’t have a reason why they were continuing this, but Gideon didn’t seem to need one. They went straight to Gideon’s class that Monday morning, skipping the song and dance of Harrow going to her lab, and Gideon still held the door for her.

She supposed this wasn’t that odd.

And if it was, well… by next week it probably wouldn’t be.

*********

Gideon was tapping her pencil on the edge of the folded over desk, clicking her tongue to the beat of the song.

They made great time on the highway that morning, getting there earlier than the professor and most of the class, so Gideon was taking the extra time to hype herself up for the day.

“What could you possibly be listening to that sounds that annoying?” The perpetual rain cloud at her side asked and Gideon took out one of her headphones to offer a snarky comeback when she paused.

“Actually…” she hit restart on the song. “You should listen to it.”

Harrow raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking at the headphone.

“That was just in your ear.”

Gideon rolled her eyes and rubbed it between the sleeve of her hoodie, holding it back out now that it was ‘sanitized.’

“Good enough your highness?”

Harrow rolled her eyes but took the headphone and placed it in her ear, leaning slightly closer for proximity’s sake.

“Why am I doing this?”

“Shh.” Gideon said gently, hitting start. “Just tell me what you think of the song.”

The bass kicked in its iconic intro, subtle but enticing. Brooding but plucky.

The boy I love has another girl

He might be fucking her right now

“Charming.” Harrow said dryly, but Gideon merely waved a finger.

Guess I’m contagious. It’d be safest if you ran.

Fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end.

Take my car, paint it black.

Take my arm, break it in half.

Say something, do it soon.

It’s too quiet in this room I need noise.

The voice distorted for a moment, the music picked up subtly growing behind her. Grey clouds coming with a storm.

I need the buzz of a sub

Need the crack of the whip

Need some blood in the cut.

I need noiseeeeee.

Gideon was mouthing the words out of habit, but she looked up and paused completely, watching Harrow listen to the song.

When it came to an end Gideon could barely contain herself, she had to ask-

“Who is this…?” Harrow asked first, and then as if Gideon was truly dreaming added, “I liked it.”

Gideon had to fight a fist pump and about 100 other dumb reactions that would ruin the moment.

“I can’t believe I didn’t play her for you sooner.” Is what she said shaking her head at her own massive oversight. “This is K. Flay. You like K. Flay. You. GAH! I should have connected that a long time ago. You two are literally perfect for each other.” 

Harrow gave a classic ‘whats that supposed to mean?’ expression, but Gideon didn’t miss a step.

“She is very unapologetic. Very dark. And very awesome. You guys have a lot in common.”

Harrows face did something almost completely foreign there, but Gideon was too excited to stop and think. She pressed on instead.

“She’s got 10+ years of collabs, EP’s, and albums under her belt and they’re all bangers, but the thing I like best… is the growth. Like she goes from blacking out and rage and self hate to ‘I like myself most of the time’ and ‘DNA’ and ‘This baby dont cry’… she shows you don’t have to be perfect on the journey.”

“But you decided to go through the trouble anyway?” Harrow said, facing her and then pausing. Eyes going uncharacteristically wide and both of them pausing in their usual banter and bicker that they were so skilled at.

“Was that a compliment Nonagesimus? Or just a way to get me to stop talking?” Gideon asked, waiting for someone to feed her a line.

Harrow quickly took out the earbud and set it on Gideon’s desk as the teacher filed in, turning away to rifle through some of her papers.

“Sad you have to ask. Thought you’d know better by now.” She said, looking firmly away with a slight color to her cheeks.

“Yeah.” Gideon said, replaying that look in her eye that she’d never seen. “Thought I would too.”

*********

It turned out admitting to liking any musician in any capacity gave Gideon Nav permission to become unbearable about it.

The amount of K. Flay songs she played her over the next week, the lore and lyric dissection, the late night texts when she knew she wasn’t sleeping and wanted to send her one more song to try out.

It almost made Harrow regret ever sharing an honest word with the meat head.

You guys have a lot in common.

That part the hadn’t solved yet. Nav had called her… awesome?

In comparison to a musician she clearly admired. She hadn’t event realized she’d done it, clearly. Bustling on past in the conversation like she always did.

What was going on with them lately?

Her phone buzzed and she flipped it over to look, already knowing it would be Gideon Nav’s name across her screen.

you up?

Yes. Studying.

nerd 🤓

Harrow rolled her eyes.

you should call it a night soon, your test isn’t even till next week.

How did she know that? Harrow blinked, then recalled that she sat in that class now. They knew things about each other’s personal life, past, and present. What was her world coming to?

here, have a song to help you sleep

Before Harrow could respond the link was sent and Harrow was clicking on it.

fore I forget, do you wanna do lunch tomorrow?

Tomorrow was Thursday. Not one of their agreed upon days for lunch. Not part of the routine.

Where?

usual spot. 2oclock 🕑

That would be acceptable.

bet

Bet what?

😂 it just means ok

Then why not simply say okay?

just listen to the song Nonagesimus :p

Harrow rolled her eyes but did flip back over to the link. She looked at the empty dark room almost surprised it had gotten so late, then rose from her desk and stretched her arms over her head.

She may find no rest tonight, like many others in this big empty house, but might as well try the change in scenery. She settled onto her bed with her legs curled up, a ball of limbs and disdain as the song started.

Maybe I’ve been slipping back, heading south, carsick on a Tuesday

Missing cash, blacking out, heartless in a few ways

Shit for luck, elbows shredded, I held things steady, like, too late

Please calm the fuck down I’ll do whatever you say

It was aggressive but with a curl, like a blanket. Not directed anger, just inward and then out to nothing. Harrow rolled over, still in most of her ensemble for the day and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes were heavier than she realized…

Don’t ask me questions cause I’m tired of confessing

And I know that it’s not much to say, but I swear that I’d like to change

I can’t sleep, I hope to stay awake, cause I’ve been running, running, running all day

She was asleep before the end of the chorus.

*********

The next day when Harrow walked to agreed upon place at the agreed upon time she was caught off guard to see Gideon with her lunchbox and a wave in her direction.

The lunchbox and the wave weren’t actually that surprising, they had become normalized after she’d gotten her scholarship funds and been blessedly buying groceries again. She supposed the startling thing was… it was just Gideon.

“Where are the others?” Harrow asked, as if a math problem that hadn’t added up.

Gideon shrugged, hopping down from the fence post she’d been sitting on.

“Think Cam’s grading papers, the teens have a class right now. No clue on Pal.”

So Gideon had invited… only Harrow to lunch. She clutched her bag a little tighter. 

“Wanna sit in the shade over there?” Gideon nodded to a patch under some trees.

“Fine.” Harrow said, strained as she was working out this new arrangement in her head. The numbers were just not adding up. Sure, they spent a lot of 1 on 1 time between the library, the classes they took with each other, and obviously their drive time. She supposed they’d been texting more. This was all just very… familiar.

Friendly, even.

She supposed they were friends but something about this lunch date was throwing off her grasp of what they were.

“You alright there Harr? You look like you’re solving Anabolism on the fly.”

Harrow rolled her eyes.

“You learn one term from my lecture and misuse it at every turn.”

Gideon chuckled and stuck her tongue out at her before collapsing in the grass and kicking her feet out in a wide line. Harrow sat more like a lead ball plummeting back to earth.

They ate in fine silence. It wasn’t that different but there wasn’t an audience. An excuse to be spending time. There was just them.

Why was it so strange?

All their other time together seemed to have a premise or an excuse for why they were seeking each other’s company out. This was completely voluntary.

“Seriously, what’s eating at you Non, it’s fucking weird how quiet you are.” Gideon said, raising an eye as she stuffed a handful of cashews in her mouth.

“I am a quiet person.” Harrow said, bristling slightly. “Everyone is quiet compared to you-“

“Okay I know this routine.” Gideon said, leaning forward with a fond eye roll. “I’m saying you’re not your usual level of quiet. You’re the ‘I’m overthinking something I could just ask about’ kind of quiet. Which is eerily similar to your ‘I definitely don’t want to talk about it’ quiet, but a girls gotta try. So, spill. What’s wrong?”

And Harrow didn’t know what to say.

“Why did you invite me to lunch?” She blurted.

Gideon looked surprised like she’d asked why she wore two socks today.

“Cause… why not?“

“That’s not an answer.” Harrow said flatly.

“Sure it is, you act like it’s something we never do. We literally did it yesterday.” Gideon said in confusion.

“Because that is an agreed upon day.” Harrow said, though the explanation was sounding weak even to her. “This is not. And you asked just me.”

“So? Is it just… utterly unbearable to be at lunch with just me?”

“That is not what I said.” Harrow countered. “But would you have asked just Camila to lunch or just Isaac?”

Gideon shrugged. “Probably not. Cam’s really busy and the teens only come as a set.”

“So why just me?” Harrow said, the equation she still hadn’t solved.

“Cause you’re my oldest friend.” Gideon said like it was obvious, and then Harrow’s chest felt very warm. 

They both blinked at each other in the coming silence and only the slight breeze cut the tension.

“Is that what we were then?” Harrow asked quietly, thinking back to schoolyard fights and high school halls glaring at each other.

Gideon scoffed and hung her head back looking up at the trees. “You really can’t stand to have someone care, can you?”

That was unfair, though she supposed not far off. She didn’t want to drop her point so easily though.

“We hated each other Nav.” She said, as if reminding her a known truth.

“I never hated you.” Gideon said, sitting up to look at her better. “I- psssshhhh I think I the opposite of hated you?”

“You- what?”

“I- fuck, this sounds so stupid. I was… obsessed with you Harr. In that mindless kid way, where I just wanted your attention. And yeah, maybe it was mostly annoyance and disdain but you were the only one who would give it to me. Everyone else was busy ignoring the air I dared breathe.”

Ignoring Gideon had never been an option. Harrow had failed every time.

“So yeah. I consider us friends for all the shit we endured. But even if you don’t, even if we’re starting from square-fucking-one, beginning of the semester, probably still my oldest friend.” Her voice died down and she was staring at a point past Harrow at the lawn. “How pathetic is that?”

Harrow bowed her head, heart rate skyrocketing and doing other unbecoming things.

“It’s not.” Harrow said lightly. Gideon had, as she often did as of late, shown her true thoughts and feelings. And Harrow had said nothing.

She owed her more than that. She’d asked for more than that, and acted as if she could be held accountable to give more than that. One flesh, One end.

She shifted on her palms closer to Gideon’s side.

“I didn’t want to assume… after all I’d put you through… you’d think of me as such.”

Gideon was still staring, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She sighed through her nose and then turned her eyes to Harrow, like golden little marbles.

“Well tough shit. I do.”

Harrow swallowed but held her eye. Defiant til the end.

“Very well.”

Gideon rolled her eyes.

They sat quietly after that, taking small bites of their food.

“You gonna be like this every time I try to spend unsanctioned time with you?”

 Harrow was trying to think of something to say. ‘Why do you want to bother spending time on me? Probably yes, it’s my natural way of being around you. Don’t we spend enough time together? Why would you give me more chances?’

A rather breathy and excited voice interrupted before she’d carefully selected her answer. 

“Oh my goodness, sister look who it is.”

Harrow’s entire body tensed as she turned to see the sorority twins that had moved to the top of her shit list.

“Look at that, the mutt lives.” The one that looked like a skeleton with rouge.

“Sister, please.” The golden one said, patting the arm of her greyscale twin. “Hello again. How are you holding up?”

She bent to look down at Gideon like damsel in distress, and Harrow felt something in her stomach lurch. Nausea most likely.

“Uh hi again. Weird to see you not blurry.”

The golden one chuckled and put her hand out to take one of Gideon’s as if she was going to curtsy.

“Listen, I was truly so sorry to see you in such a state, but look at you now. A vision.”

Harrow saw the skeletal one roll her eyes and felt a similar sensation. Though agreeing with her on anything seemed repulsive so she abstained from showing any sign of it.

“I clean up alright I guess. Better when the bloods inside at least.” Gideon said, and Harrow frowned. How was she so effortlessly charming with this random mindless blonde. Harrow made talking to her like chewing chalk by comparison.

“Sister, we have to be going. Or did you forget?” The skeletal one said with a bored expression and gestured to the stacks of flyers they were both holding.

“Yes I suppose we must. Oh! But I’ve just had the most splendid idea.”

She stood up and grabbed one from the stack that had pressed against her ample bosom.

“You must come, do us the honor.”

Harrow peeked at the flyer she was handing her and saw some Greek symbols and neons letters deeming ‘Tailgate!!!!’ With an abundance of exclamation points.

“Your friend would be welcome too.” The skeletal one said gazing over at her, as if calling some bluff.

Truthfully- Harrow would almost be embarrassed to admit how ruffled she was from her comment, but before she could think better of it she was saying- “Great. Can’t wait.”

The golden sister clapped borderline giddily and the pale thing smirked in imitation of her before they wandered off.

“Seriously? You want to go to a tailgate?” Gideon asked, clearly stunned as if she’d volunteered for a lobotomy. That did sound preferable.

“I don’t like them.” Harrow said, not answering the question. “But I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of not following through.”

Gideon shook her head.

“You don’t like most people Non.”

“No, but especially them.” She admitted. “They hit my friend with a car.”

And she saw the smile out of her peripherals at the choice of title. She supposed she could let this simmer. Could accept one… friend.

“When you put it like that, they are the worst.”

“Incredibly.”

“But that one sister is pretty hot.” Nav said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“You’re a pig.”

*********

Events moved quickly from there. By Friday she’d been added to a group text as Gideon coordinated the tailgate with the usual lunch time unit. Harrow was abysmally annoyed with the amount of message bubbles coming into her phone. Camila blessedly showed her how to mute alerts from the chat so her phone would not notify her ten times back to back when the teens started sending gifs in some intangible language.

Yet, someway somehow… Harrow was roped into another college thing she had vowed never to stoop to.

God forbid someone throw her a frisbee. That would be the final straw.

Gideon must’ve sensed her unease as they were driving up Saturday morning.

“Look, we don’t have to stay long.” She said after a few moments. “I mean it, alright? Just let me know when you’re done and we’re done.”

Harrow said nothing, and as usual the constant noise that was Gideon Nav couldn’t accept that.

“Gee Gideon, thanks for looking out for me in a social situation I’m completely unaccustomed to.” She said in a truly horrible impression of Harrow. That was unfortunately persuasive enough to get her to break her silence.

“I sound nothing like that, and why is it you are so comfortable guessing my limitations?”

Gideon sighed, rubbing her thumb along her temple.

“Look, I think you mistake my concern as me underestimating you in some way, and it’s really monumentally, stupidly, absurdly hard to talk to you when you do that.”

Harrow took a breath through her nose and held it as long as she cold.

“Fine. I understand what you’re saying.”

“Was that so hard?” Gideon said shaking her head.

No, it was simple, but I don’t understand why. I am all edges and so are you, and yet we are pretending we are allowed to be soft with each other. I don’t know what to do with this.

She said none of this. Instead she said, “Unlock your phone.”

“What?” Gideon asked, surely confused at the sudden turn of events.

“Unlock your phone. I want to pull up a song.”

Gideon gaped for a moment as if battling the instinct to ask more or avoid the oncoming fight and just follow blind. She ultimately did the latter. Flipping the phone up and unlocking it to the music app.

Harrow typed in the title she sought, thinking of Gideon’s theory that music could explain the words you alone could not. Maybe she could use it to her aide.

The song started Gideon almost instantly perk up. Amazing how certain songs could do that to her. Like a switch going off physically in her body that you could witness in all its little ways it changed and eased and relaxed.

“You’ve been listening to more K. Flay?”

“Perhaps.”

“This is like… a deep track. And a remix at that. You don’t find this on top of the pile, you gotta dig.”

“And perhaps I dug.” Harrow said simply.

I gotta

Oh I gotta find another way another way

Another way

I’m learning to live

I’m tryna be better

I’m learning to give

But I don’t know if I’m a giver

“What do you like about this one Non?”

“Does it need to be so deep?”

“Nah, I’d accept the strings, or the rhythm, or just the overall vibe as an answer. Just curious.”

Harrow watched her a moment longer, considered the words, but then ultimately said, “Yes. All of that.”

“Right on.” Gideon smirked. “Adding it to your list.”

*********

Evidently the sororities had special reserved areas on the lawn set aside for them to pitch tents and tables and paraphernalia. The flyer had a specific address to meet the Tri-Delta’s for their giveaways and ‘exclusive company.’

Barf.

Gideon was a little allured by the idea of sorority girls, mostly because she’d loved Legally Blonde, but she had a feeling based on her foggy recollection of being in their mansion that they were the kind of people that would bet on children if the Hunger Games ever came to pass.

So, sure. They’d make an appearance for Harrow’s weird defiance statement, but first she was more than happy to find the people she actually wanted to see, walk the yard, and feel the general camaraderie of a tailgate.

She couldn’t give a shit about football, but there was something to be said about people who cared enough about anything to paint it across their chest.

Her and Harrow got a decent parking spot in a student lot and threaded through the masses to try and find the rest of the gang.

“You good?” She asked, and Harrow gave her a nod as they stepped around a large group chanting something or other. This seemed like so not her scene, but she figured Harrow would make it well known when she wanted to be gone, so for now she’d take it at face value.

“There they are.” Harrow said, nodding through the crowd to the four of their friends standing around in a bit more color than they typically wore. School temporary tattoos that they must have been giving out were plastered on the teens cheeks. Pal was in a greyscale floral shirt, which Gideon was stunned to know existed, and Cam was dressed the same grey athletic wear she always had. At least Harrow wouldn’t stand out for not dressing up.

“Hey! There they are!” Jeanne called out, waving with both arms over her head before her and Isaac broke into a run toward them. Gideon chuckled as they barreled into her.

“We got you tattoos, come on, you gotta match us.” Isaac insisted.

“Hold your tits man, we just got here.” Gideon said, looking over at Harrow who wasn’t exactly smiling, but who looked amused. She’d take amused.

“Well if they got them for you.” She said dryly and Gideon laughed.

“Fine, do your worst.”

Five minutes later, after the teens had placed cold rags on other cheek with the decals she was now matching them with the school spirit on proud display, and they walked the lanes and lanes of people with their setups. The smell of food was incredible, and two or three different booths definitely had someone’s mom behind a grill with hot dogs and curries and burgers smiling her way and handing her a plate.

She decided she loved tailgates if they meant free food. The energy was fun, the noise was jubilant. Someone was throwing a Frisbee and Gideon caught it and launched it back. Someone else was playing cornhole and she and Cam ended up crushing for a few rounds. Harrow didn’t seem miserable which was a plus.

“Hey do you want to swing by this sorority thing?” Jeanne asked, noming on a chicken wing.

“Yeah, let’s get it out of the way.” Gideon looked back and noted that Pal, Cam, and Harrow looked various shades of pissed and peeved at the mention of them. “We don’t all have to go.”

“Pal was thinking of picking up a friend.” Cam said immediately, letting Gideon know they definitely didn’t want to be doing this.

“Ooh, a pal of Pal’s?” Gideon said with a waggle of her brows. “Go for it. Text us when we’re back.”

They departed in a synchronized burst, clearly more excited about any option that lead away from this soiree. Gideon couldn’t fault them. The teens seemed excited still, and Harrow was… there. Guess that was as good as anything from her.

There was no mistaking when they entered into the sorority area of the lawn. The girls were dressed in beads and beauty and smiles that said they could probably get away with murder. She wondered how many of them actually had. Everything ramped up once they crossed the invisible line of the frats. The tents were bigger, the dudes broing out and throwing footballs were bigger, the speakers were bigger. All of it turned up a notch. The teens seemed to slow in their confidence after watching someone do a body shot, and were huddling together as they walked down the sidewalk.

They neared in toward a hub and saw the symbol of the triple delta, and as Gideon was deciding if this was the place, she heard a squeal.

“You came!” And suddenly a golden vision with a huge rack was knocking into her side.

“Oh shit, hi.” Gideon said trying to recover as the girl stepped back and smiled at her, and shit. She legit looked like a magazine cover come to life.

“Sister! She’s here.” She said to the knock off version of herself that seemed to have crawled out of the upside down.

“Oh goodie.” Those pale eyes went right over Gideon’s shoulder toward Harrow and the teens. “They came after all.”

“Couldn’t miss it.” Harrow said dryly. She had a feeling the two of them were having some kind of secret contest of hospitality and spite and barely disguising it, but she was a bit distracted by the boozed blonde hanging off her shoulder.

“Gideon how are you feeling? You look well. Oh wait- where are my manners, I haven’t even offered you a drink.” She looked around the space. “Ianthe, where are the drinks?”

“Tern’s reloading the keg.” The skeletal twin said. Evidently Ianthe. Gideon sort of didn’t remember their names so this was actually quite helpful.

“Oh that won’t do.” The golden one clicked her tongue. “Here take mine.”

She thrust the red solo cup in her hand into Gideon’s chest.

“Oh… that’s okay, really.”

“I insist. I insist.” She said, fettering her hands. Gideon shrugged. She lifted the cup in thanks and took a sip of the flat beer.

“Mmm, warm.”

The golden girl laughed and held her hand to her heart like a character out of an old movie. “Now I’m sorry, I don’t believe we met last time.”

She was looking at the teens who looked completley out of their depth.

“I’m Coronabeth Tridentarius, at your service.” She said reaching out and taking one of each of their hands to grasp. Their eyes were comically large.

“Jeanne… Jeannemarie.”

“Isaac.”

“Jeannemarie and Isaac, a pleasure. And you’re Harrow of course, couldn’t forget about her.” She looked to Harrow then turned and winked at Gideon.

She had no idea why, but it made her cheeks a bit warm. Foggy memories came back that she might have talked about Harrow a bit too much when she was stoned out on their couch.

“Ianthe aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” She asked, looping her arm into Gideon’s again.

“Don’t see a need really. Won’t be remembering these faces.” She looked over the lot of them, pausing on Harrow, which was getting annoying. It kind of felt like she was trying to make a point or make her uncomfortable or burrow with those beady little eyes into her skull. Kind of made Gideon want to bash hers in.

It definitely wasn’t jealousy because she had nothing to be jealous of. For one, gross, and for two, yuck.

Still, didn’t care for it.

Corona whisked the two of them through the party, pointing out people whose names she couldn’t make out over the sound. The other twin disappeared and she lost track of her little group between all the people and the sound and the drunken masses.

She realized she couldn’t get a read on Corona. She seemed to be emulating the people around her, but was far clearer in her head of what was happening in how she spoke and sidestepped the people she wanted to avoid. It was intriguing how well she covered it all up.

“I really am glad you came. Ianthe kept saying you never would, but I knew she was wrong.”

Gideon shrugged.

“What’s your story? It was hard to get the full picture with you all bent out of shape last time we met.” She smiled bright and glorious and clearly wanting to build her little arsenal of info.

“Not much to tell.” Gideon said trying to look back through the closing crowd for her group. “And bent out of shape is a fun way to say hit by car.”

Corona looked at her arm and shifted the sleeve to inspect the still very obvious signs of road rash she had been healing. She tsked her tongue sympathetically.

“Such a state you were in.”

“I’ve had worse.” She said, distracted by her hand now drawing patterns on her skin. Was this flirting? This didn’t seem like the kind of person that would flirt with her.

“That I believe. You have brave eyes.” She smiled, leaning against her and looking up like a damn pinup model.

“And you have nice tits.” Ianthe said, appearing out of thin air to kill the vibes.

“Sister must you be so crass?” Corona said leaning closer into Gideon’s side.

“Afraid so. It’s how the good lord made me.” She said with scathing sarcasm. “Judith was looking for you.”

Corona sighed, turning and patting a hand to Gideon’s cheek.

“I’m afraid I must go. Destiny calls.”

“Well, that’s a big call, can’t stand in the way of that.” Gideon agreed, ready to be released and away from this very confusing encounter before she did something stupid.

Corona chuckled and pulled her into a hug. “Oh do make sure we talk again.”

“Sure.” Gideon nodded, confident they wouldn’t. She was very low on the list of shiny things, but it had been weirdly nice being at the center of her attention for a few moments.

She walked off, and Gideon turned back to the not-hot twin.

“Any idea where my dark little friend got off to?”

Ianthe seemed to consider her with this bored gaze.

“She’s not going to pick you.”

Gideon frowned. The hell…?

“Isn’t it obvious?” She added with a pop of her shoulder and looking at her like a kicked puppy.

There were a lot of responses that came to Gideon’s mind, all aggressive, because she was so clearly trying to wound. But also she was soooooo blindly in the wrong place it was laughable.

“I bet your sister being hot gets you in all kinds of doors, huh?” She said instead, seeing the crook in her brow. Minor victory. “Makes you think you should speak when you shouldn’t.”

“So the little mutt has some nip to her. How adorable. Whenever will we put her down?”

“Tried your damndest, didn’t ya?” Gideon countered and Ianthe smiled, all teeth and entertainment.

“Griddle.” She heard from her side and turned to see Harrow standing a few yards from her. She pointed to her then looked back at Ianthe.

“It’s all good, I found her. Thanks anyway.” She flicked a middle finger as her parting gift and jogged the last few steps to Harrow.

“Woof woof little mutt.” She heard as she left.

“Well that was something.” Gideon said as they wandered away. She kept craning her neck to look for the teens, wondering when they’d slipped away.

“Why did you drink her beer?” Harrow asked suddenly, and as far as Gideon could tell, right out of left field. Weirdly mad too.

“What?” Is all she could manage, and Harrow scowled at her lack of an answer.

“Her beer. She handed you her half drunk, warm beer, and you drank it. Like an animal.”

Gideon put her hands out to her side confused.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was Griddle, it very much was. It’s like a test they do or game they play to see how little you think of yourself and how much they can get away with.”

“I think you’re over thinking it.”

“I think you are underthinking it. But why am I surprised, you don’t stop to think how people will see you-“

“I don’t give a shit how those people see me Harrow. That’s the truth of it.” She said louder, stopping and turning to stand in front of her. “I really don’t, okay? So if they think less of me cause I drank the beer, great. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Well I think less of you for drinking it.” Harrow said louder and Gideon felt her expression shift into something angry and wounded. 

“Then why did you want to come?!” She said louder than she needed to. “I was going to blow them off, you were the one who made a point to tell fucking Igor we were coming, so maybe I think less of you for that.”

Now they were in a classic stand off, glaring at each other like a dual of ten paces. Their default setting for all things, evidently.

“Heads up!” A voice called out, and Gideon moved on autopilot, stepping forward as a shadow was about to run through Harrow. She wrapped her into her chest and absorbed the impact of someone barreling into them.

“Shit, sorry dude, I didn’t- Gideon??”

She looked up, having been ready to swing on someone when she saw-

A face with mismatched eyes, a crook in the nose, shaggy red hair with natural golden highlights. She was definitely a decade and a half older than the last time she saw her but this was-

“Fhil??” Gideon said, gaping at a face still entirely similar to her own.

Fhil grinned wide and bright like she always did and Gideon released Harrow to take in the bear hug that came her way. She sort of felt like a kid again, before the world slanted to shitty and never looked back.

“What are you doing here??” 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Holy shit.” Fhil leaned back and slapped her chest with the fondest smile on her face and it was like a sense of relief to have one person in the world look at her that way. As if she’d been missed from the space she occupied.

“Do you go to school here?” Gideon asked, and Fhil shook her head.

“No, I wish, but Noemi does. She got a full ride for band if you can believe it. She never wanted to play a French horn but lo and behold it was her freaking entrance ticket.” She beamed obviously proud of whoever the French horn player was, and then seemed to clock that they both didn’t know this person she spoke of. “Oh my younger sister! We’re visiting her for family weekend.”

Family weekend. Yeah that one sat like a tear in her gut that she tried not to make visible.

“Well congrats to her. Anyone who can play that awful instrument and make money off it is a legend.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Name a French horn soloist.”

Fhil psshed her lips and smiled fondly. She was always the one smiling.

“Sorry, I’m being entirely rude, who’s this?” She turned, realizing Harrow was there and looking excited to meet her. Gideon paused, completely forgetting they’d been having a fight like twenty seconds prior.

“This… is Harrow.” Gideon said.

*********

Harrow was still reeling from the fact that there were two of them.

“Hi Harrow, I’m Fhilomena Feist. Fhil for short, and I am Gideon’s twin.” Smiled the redhead as she shook her hand. Harrow must’ve looked like a bird smashing into a glass window.

“Yeah, can’t you tell?” Gideon said throwing an arm over her shoulder. “At least that’s what we told all the staff back at the foster system.”

“Fooled most of them too.” Fhil agreed. She put her other hand over the back of Harrow’s palm and smiled at her with this genuine crease to her eyes like Harrow was the most exciting person she could be meeting. “Listen, I can’t stay long but it’s really good to see someone hanging around with this old sis of mine. She was always a handful, so you are nothing short of a saint, I’m certain.”

Harrow glanced at Gideon expecting her to be full on laughing in her face and denouncing her as a spawn of hellfire, but… she was simply looking dreamy and relaxed in a way she’d never seen.

“Fhil!” A voice called out, searching for her in the crowd. The newer of the two redheads turned back to Gideon.

“Give me your phone. Right now, I’m putting my number in and you are going to call me and we are going to catch up. These are not optional things that I am saying.” She snapped her fingers and Gideon rolled her eyes but still had that barely concealed smile as she fished in her pocket for her phone.

“You still with that girl of yours?” Gideon asked, and Fhil smiled a little shy thing.

“Fhil!” That same voice called again.

“That sounds like her.” Gideon said with a smirk. Fhil finished typing and pressed her phone back into her chest.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She winked and pulled Gideon into another big hug before running off. “Harrow so nice to meet you!”

She yelled the last bit as she disappeared, and then it was just the two of them.

There were a lot of things she thought to say, especially given where they ended off their conversation, but what felt the most appropriate was, “You okay?”

Gideon didn’t say anything right away, just nodded.

“More than. That was kind of wild. Someone I never thought I’d see again.”

“Seems like someone you were happy to see.”

“Yeah…” Gideon agreed.

“Guess I’m not your oldest friend.” Was what she thought to say next. She wasn’t sure why, it felt antagonistic, but she meant it more as she was learning something new about her.

“No, you still are. She’s family. Or did you miss the twin bit?” Gideon said, finally breaking away from her stare. 

“Not falling for the twin bit.” Harrow shook her head. “But I will give you that of the twins I’ve met today, you two were somehow the lesser sufferable of them.”

“Gee thanks.” Gideon said with a smirk, putting her hands in her pocket and falling in to walk next to her.

“Guess that’s what it could’ve been like…”

“What what could’ve been like?” Harrow asked.

“Getting a good family… having the system like, work.” Gideon said looking off at a dream that could’ve been. A dream that had just danced before her eyes, and dazzled her with how stark it was to her own.

“Come on, let’s find the rest of the group.” Harrow said quickly, swallowing down the knowledge and guilt that if it wasn’t for her… Gideon’s dream might have come true.

*********

The band started playing, which apparently signaled the end of the tailgate. People started filing toward the arena or back toward their cars and packing up en masse.

“We’ll leave soon, sorry it got so late.” Gideon said to Harrow, still looking lost in thought. Harrow simply nodded. For all the shit she’d given her today she knew this wasn’t the time to add anything else to it.

“It’s fine. I saw Palamedes message in the chat, we should say bye.”

Gideon nodded. They walked a little further toward the campus coffee shop where the teens had retreated to, and evidently Camila and Pal had landed with their friend.

When they walked in Harrow saw them wave and guided them over to the table.

“Hey guys, we won’t be long, gotta get out before traffic-“

Gideon’s face paused in yet another sort of stare that belayed being absolutely stunned to see someone. Twice in one day was almost annoying, but the way her eyes lit up for the girl sitting between Camila and Pal was something else too. It wasn’t how she looked at the blonde twin, nor the friendly redhead. It was something else…

“Dulcie?” Gideon asked, picking her jaw up from the floor.

The girl with golden brown curls and a frail complexion smiled brilliantly at Gideon, the way a painting might. If you enjoyed the romanticism era that was, which Harrow decidedly did not. Oversaturated, every one of them.

“My oh my, that can’t be my dear Gideon Nav.”

Okay, so… not that Harrow had even wanted to be Gideon’s oldest friend in the first place, but all the sudden competition was certainly unnecessary.

“Are you a student here?” Gideon asked, still looking like she’d been struck by lightning.

“Online mostly.” Dulcie chuckled. “Not quite out of the woods yet, but… venturing out when I can to visit old friends.” She gestured with her air of poise and refinery toward Camila and Pal.

“Right, shit, of course. But it’s getting better?” Gideon asked with a tone of hopefulness.

“In a manner of speaking.” She said with a proud smile that masked any sadness.

“You two know each other, I take it?” Harrow finally said, splitting the conversation with the unanswered question.

“Oh! My yes, it’s been almost two years since? But we met at the Saint Mercymorn hospital, room 117B.” Dulcie chuckled, and Gideon’s demeanor shifted toward shaken instead of serendipitous. Like she was perched on the edge of a bad memory.

“You met at the hospital?” Palamedes asked, suddenly studying their connection.

“Well yes, we were roommates. My blood-illness was in remission and she was there one curtain over. She was so kind to me. Many people who had been in her position were so quick to be overly sympathetic. They’d mean well of course, but it was so belittling.”

“Surprised you remember someone like me.” Gideon said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“You’re so silly. It would be incredibly hard to forget someone like you. I’d daresay impossible.” Dulcie smiled and leaned forward, Palamedes’ hand supporting her wrist as she did. “You always had the best taste in music.”

Harrow decided she didn’t like this person.

“Wait Gideon, when were you in the hospital?” Isaac asked, looking between them. A smart question. One Harrow would have been wondering if she wasn’t busy noting all the things she disliked about this new person. So far she was up to 14.

“Uh that is a great story for another time.” Gideon said rather ungracefully. “We really gotta beat traffic so uh, guys see ya Wednesday. Dulcie… nice to catch up.”

Then with one awkward two finger salute she had turned on her heel and exited.

The rest of them were left blinking at each other, trying to solve what had just happened.

“Dulcinea, what was that?” Camila asked, and everyone turned to her as if she’d have the answer. Harrow was quick to cut it off.

“You’ll forgive me, but if Gideon didn’t want us to know, she probably didn’t want you to tell us either.”

To her credit she kept that knowing smile from before and nodded toward Harrow. “You’re right of course. I can’t speak to why Gideon was there, only can tell you that we shared a room for almost two weeks, and that as far as I know she doesn’t return nearly as frequently as I do.”

The last bit was meant as some self-deprecation to deflect on Gideon’s behalf. Harrow could appreciate it. Fine, down to 12 reasons not to like her. She’d lessen the internal charges she was calculating against her for now.

She gave a nod and little else, then exited out the door to catch up to the fleeing redhead.

*********

They had somehow gotten back to the car and were now sitting side by side without having started the engine, Gideon was just staring. Like she knew they were going to talk about something extremely painful and didn’t want to start. Harrow wasn’t sure how to move past this. She didn’t think there was a way that wasn’t direct, or very obviously dismissive.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Harrow finally said, trying for calm and cool.

Gideon sighed through her nose.

“I don’t know. Not sure I need to give you yet another thing to ‘think less of me’ for.” She said, leaning back against her headrest.

Harrow frowned. “As long as the story isn’t drinking some bimbo’s half had beer you have nothing to be worried about.”

That got a smirk, and she counted it like a minor currency.

“It’s not that luckily. But it is the tale of how ‘Super Nova’ got super stabbed.” She pointed to herself. “And unfortunately I am Super Nova in this story.”

Harrow raised a brow for her to continue and Gideon leaned back further in her seat, pressing a palm into her forehead.

“So… couple years ago… when I got out of high school…” She was dragging rather long pauses through the start of this story before finally taking a breath and muscling through. “I was a paid street fighter.”

That.

Was not what Harrow had expected to hear.

“Like a wrestler?” She asked, unable to picture anything else.

“Nah, like MMA but without the sponsors.” Gideon said. “Well, the sponsors were just whoever wanted to bet on you that night, and instead of fighting in octagon’s we fought under bridges. It was not… luxurious. Or legal really.”

Harrow nodded, but was very confused how much of Gideon’s life she had clearly missed.

“But uh, I was good. Did it for about 6 months. Started getting a following. Had a stupid ‘cover name’ which was Super Nova.”

“Why?”

“Sounded cool.” She shrugged. “Wish I’d spent more than a bus ride thinking about it, probably would’ve had something better.”

“No, why did you do it?” Harrow asked as if it had been obvious. Gideon got quiet for a moment, as if searching for not the right answer, but the one that Harrow would understand.

“Honestly? Cause I was good at it. Turned out I could fight, and definitely turned out I could take some hits and stay on my feet. I thought I’d found a place I belonged, but really… it was only encouraging the worst parts of me.”

She was reliving some of those fights, she could see it in the way she tensed her knuckles and flexed her fingers.

“Anyway, I’ll skip to the important part. I had a big fight. Someone named ‘Cythrea’ that was a big deal in our circles was coming to town for a fight. Think she was actual retired MMA, but I got booked with her as the clear underdog, and was ecstatic. Thought I’d go in and make a big name for myself, and sure enough I won… way too easy.” Gideon furled her lip. “Turned out she threw the fight to get a cut of the winnings against herself, which were way higher than if she’d just won outright. When I figured it out… well, let’s just way my delicate ego couldn’t handle it.”

She shook her head, disappointed in her past self.

“I went to confront her and her bodyguard didn’t even wait for me to get within spitting distance, he just straight up… stabbed me.”

Harrow’s eyes about shot off her head at that part. Yes, the stabbing had been promised at the beginning, but imagining someone actually stabbing Gideon… her Gideon… made her feel protective and irate.

“Right down the chest.” Gideon continued, running her finger along what must’ve been the carve line. “And I collapsed in the street.”

“How did you survive?” Harrow asked.

“Cythrea actually called me an ambulance.” Gideon chuckled. Actually chuckled at the story of her near demise. “She could have left me there and no one would have found me. For a long time.”

That feeling was… decidedly appalling. She was right of course, this would’ve been at a time where they were non-factors in each other’s lives. But right now felt like a stab to her own chest to think about.

“Anyway, you only really have to have one of those near death experiences to set you on a different path, and my path detoured hard after that. I uh, worked with so many trainers in my recovery that I decided I wanted to be one. Help people reclaim that part of them that feels like they’ve lost.”

Harrow sat in silence at the full story, they both did until Gideon finally turned to look her way, eyes rusted over in a dark memory.

“Harr… I was gone. I was bleeding out… I should’ve died… but I didn’t… and a lot of days I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.” She shook her head and let out a strained breath between her teeth. “Aiglamene paid my hospital bills without telling me how much they were. I’ve been trying to pay her back ever since, and trying to keep my temper in check.”

“You yelled at a radio commercial this morning.” Harrow said in protest of her last point, which got her to laugh unexpectedly.

“Well yeah that’s why I said trying jackass.” She said, shaking her head. She shifted forward in her seat and rested her chin against the steering wheel. “I just… I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Afraid? Really?” Harrow said, sarcastic on instinct.

“Ok maybe not the right word. Maybe I don’t want you to be… repulsed by me? I don’t know, it’s a really shitty part of myself I’m not entirely proud of, and that’s saying something for all the shitty parts I have.” Gideon shifted to lay her forehead against the wheel with a sigh. “I just don’t want this to change anything.”

“It doesn’t.” Harrow said automatically. Partly to reassure her and make this spiral end sooner, but partly because… It simply did not.

The image she had of Gideon Nav was not… tainted by this story.

If anything it filled in some of the blanks, but… feeling repulsed by her?… Afraid of her? Never.

It was strange to think, and even more startling at the rate the clarity had struck her.

“This is not nearly as bad as the warm beer situation.” She said finally, turning to hold her eye. Not running from the story or from letting Gideon see that she cared enough to stay.

Gideon looked back and considered.

“You really hate sharing drinks, hmm?” She said, voice sounding a bit hoarse and hopeful.

“I really do.” Harrow agreed.

“I might think more of you for that.” Gideon said gently, and Harrow placed her hand on the center console, palm up as invitation. New for them, but all of today had basically been an amalgamation of that.

When Gideon put her hand in Harrow’s she was struck with how warm it was. Living. Breathing. Blood still circulating and intact.

Not lying dead beneath a bridge as a memory of the past where she could never reach her.

Chapter Text

Gideon was noticeably distracted in lecture. Harrow had studied her classroom demeanor for all of 3 weeks in their overlapping time, and she was pleasantly surprised to see how serious she took class. It didn’t matter terribly, but it was nice to know she hadn’t poured her time into a lost cause who would squander her chance.

But today, her focus was evidently split. Staring ahead, tapping her pen, and not keeping any notes.

Harrow poked her notebook with her own pen to draw her eye down to the diagram she’d started and abandoned.

Gideon shook her head as if snapping awake from a dream and caught back up to the lesson, glancing over at Harrow then back to the board then over to Harrow again.

‘What?’ Harrow mouthed at her in annoyance.

Gideon seemed to consider, then tore off a corner of paper, scribbled something down, and slid it to Harrow.

It felt childish to be passing notes at this point in her adult life, but plenty of things Gideon did felt childish. It was on the borderline of endearing.

She unfolded it and scanned for context.

If you don’t absolutely hate spending time with me yet, want to go to this book thing?

She raised a brow, then flipped the page over and wrote on the back, What book thing? before sliding it back over for Gideon to see.

The red-head reached a hand into her open backpack on the floor and pulled out a small card stock invitation.

‘Think about it?’ Gideon mouthed back, handing it to her.

*********

“What would one wear to a book launch?” Harrow asked at lunch that Wednesday. Camila and Palamedes gave her one of their blank assessing looks. The teens shrugged and mumbled in unison.

She should have expected this unhelpful reaction from this group.

“Wait,” Jeanne asked, clocking something. “Are you going to Abigail’s event?”

“How do you two know about that?” Harrow squinted.

“The whole class knows.” Isaac said, like it was a known fact. “Magnus sent invites. We’d go but it’s kind of far, and neither of us have a car.”

“Did Gideon tell you about it?” Jeanne asked, tilting her head.

“Did Gideon ask you to go with her?” Camila asked much more directly.

Harrow felt a strange knot in her stomach. Technically yes, she did, but it sounded like something else was being implied by the tone.

“She may have.“ Harrow said, which was a confirmation and a defense. Rather lousy one if she was being honest. “She said she thought I may enjoy the content of the book.”

“Yeah, Abigail writes pretty cool stuff.” Isaac agreed. “Think this one was about something like, the connection of mental belief to physical health.”

She already knew this of course, because she’d been researching this Abigail and her works for two days after agreeing to go.

“You can say no, okay? It won’t hurt my feelings.” Gideon had said in the hall when they’d left class. “Just thought I’d throw it out there.”

“Why do you want to go?” Harrow asked, more confused on that aspect of this arrangement. “These are people you’ll probably never see again that work in a field that doesn’t connect to your interests.”

“So that’s a no then?” Gideon sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning dramatically.

“I didn’t say no.” Harrow said, narrowing her eyes and following after her with her arms crossed.

They went their separate ways to opposite classes, finished their days and drove back to the gas station to fill up. When they were standing in the line with their beverages Harrow decided to continue the conversation.

“What time would we leave?” She asked unprompted.

“Probably around 1.” Gideon answered, as if hours hadn’t passed and they were still discussing the same thing.

“Fine.” Harrow said. And that had been that.

Now she didn’t know what to wear.

Which was a very minor thing to worry about. She already knew the contents of her closet, and there were plenty of things that would be sensibly cut, professional enough, and black.

Gideon would probably wear one of her stupid sleeveless shirts and pants with the chains on them. The fact that Harrow was thinking about it all was unnecessary.

“I think these things are fairly upscale.” Palamedes offered, trying to be helpful.

“Why don’t we just ask the source?” Camila said, raising an eyebrow and turning slightly. “Gideon, what are you wearing to Abigail’s book launch?”

Gideon had been walking up with her back slung over a shoulder and her sunglasses on her forehead and now looked confused at the sudden question.

“Uh, hi to you too. What kind of question is that?”

“Well, Harrow was asking, so figured we should get another opinion from someone going.” Camila said simply.

Now, it wasn’t that Harrow hadn’t considered asking Gideon, but she felt suddenly, terribly betrayed by this supposed lunch group for ratting her out.

“Really? Harr you can wear whatever. Your pajamas are probably nice enough for this venue. I assume you sleep in a Victorian ball gown?” Gideon said pointing like it was a question and Harrow imagined little clouds of steam above her own head.

“And what are you wearing?” She asked instead turning the attention off of herself. “A gown of your own?”

“Nah, I got a basic white button up that goes with everything and some black slacks.” Gideon shrugged. “Should suffice.”

“Sounds like you’re going to your own communion.” Camila said, which did earn some points back in her favor with Harrow.

Gideon made some snappy comeback, the teens chuckled, the conversation pivoted and she took her seat on the grass.

Harrow hadn’t felt like she’d gotten a good answer but she was resigned to figure this out at some other time.

Gideon leaned in and bumped her shoulder against hers as the conversation topics moved away from them.

“Hey are you really worried about what to wear?” She asked quietly. Not picking at her, genuine and nonjudgmental. It was infuriating in a softer way.

“I was simply gathering more information and perspective on the matter.” Harrow said decisively. That’s what she was doing of course. Not something as trifling as worrying.

Gideon hummed, and pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek in thought.

“What about that one long-sleeve turtleneck dress you have? That’d work.”

That was somehow more shocking than if she had told her to come stark naked. Gideon was quoting something she’d memorized from her wardrobe.

Gideon shrugged in response to her consternation, turning back to fiddle with her Gatorade.

“You wore it that day you had a guest lecture. It was nice.”

Harrow looked away very intently, feeling a warmth suddenly in her cheeks as if the clouds had disappeared and the sun burned down on them.

“Fine.” She said. 

That was to be that then.

Only, that weekend when she was getting dressed she had the agreed upon dress on her bed along with half her closet. She paced the length of her bedspread, taking each in.

Any would be fine. Perfectly adequate. This concern was very unlike her and incredibly trifling.

And yet as she flipped through each of the hangers and studied the dark fabric, some in neoprene, some tool, some chiffon, she wasn’t satisfied with any.

She went back into her closet to look yet again, not that there were many more clothes in there. Until she found one zipped up garment bag. Her fingers paused over the edge of the hanger as she looked at it. She’d been keeping this particular dress for her graduation. She hadn’t expected anyone to come, but it felt like it would be a little… unexpected for her. A little of a change, that her life was admittedly in desperate need of, and was hopefully waiting just on the other side of that degree.

Would it be a bit premature to bring it out now?

She thought about it for a moment, and of all the changes that had already permeated her defenses, this felt like one she could embrace at the head.

Harrow took a breath, and grabbed the garment bag.

*********

Gideon pulled up to Harrow’s that afternoon, adjusting her shirt’s collar for the millionth time since she put the dang thing on. She didn’t wear dress shirts a lot, and whenever she did it was like she’d purposefully blocked out how freaking stiff they got. There was a constant concern on her part that she’d shift just the wrong way and absolutely shred the material right off of her, like a Bruce Banner situation.

She put the car in park, then popped out of the driver’s side, heading up the curb when the front door opened to greet her.

Out walked Harrow, or who she assumed must be Harrow, unless she was a hallucination or some kind of skinwalker. Both equally likely to explain the visage in front of her.

“Whoa, you look… nice.”

She did. The dress revealed her arms in almost a roaring twenties kind of cut. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Harrows arms. Which, weird thing to notice after knowing someone for 20 years, but it was true. Harrow usually covered every inch of herself in fabric, fabric, dark make-up, and more fabric.

But there they were, on display, totally normal and thin and matching the grayish dark skin on her cheeks and neck. She couldn’t pretend they were covered in sores or skull tats or were concealed futuristic robotic limbs.

And- even more out of left field- this dress had a slit. A freaking slit up the side. 

Beneath it she had high boots that lined up with it almost perfectly, but when she walked and it swished there was just a flash of skin beneath-

“You’re staring.” Harrow said.

“Sorry, that’s just- not what I thought you were going to wear.”

Harrow turned back to her and then scanned her own ensemble.

“Neither is that.” She squinted.

Gideon looked down at herself and shrugged, hands in the pockets of the borrowed deep maroon slacks.

“Yeah my dress pants as it turned out had a tear above the knee, so borrowed these from Aiglamene’s closet.”

“And those?” Harrow nodded and Gideon chuckled, putting her hands on the black suspenders that she’d nabbed from a thrift shop the day prior.

“The pants were a little wide, this keeps em up. And you know, classes up the look.”

Harrow stared at her, somewhere between a glare and bird assessing a worm.

“So…” Gideon cleared her throat. “Should we go?”

The drive was a little awkwardly quiet at first. Guess she should have suspected after putting them in new territory.

She was definitely not widening her eyes to look at Harrow beside her, that would be crazy.

“What are we listening to?” Harrow asked suddenly with her usual disdain, and Gideon smirked at the familiar thread she’d found and placed before them. The tension dissipated from there.

“Frank Sinatra. Seemed like the thing to listen to for such an occasion.”

“Sounds like music you’d play at a nursing home.”

Gideon chuckled instead of her usual defense.

“It does, you got me there. My bad. What do you wanna hear instead?”

Harrow paused.

“Something surprising.” She said in a different tone. Gideon struggled to place it.

“Challenge accepted.” She said, picking up the phone and typing in an artist she’d been meaning to show her after their success with K.Flay.

This particular song started with a long metallic hum that was somehow peaceful and dissonant.

It repeated itself before the backing percussion would join and build a slow wall for the song to follow. Eventually Lorde’s voice kicked in.

‘We’re never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you

Till the veins run red and blue?

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do

Let me kill it with you’

Gideon forgot how much she liked this song. She tapped her fingers as the chorus got closer and eased into it.

“You look nice too Griddle.” Harrow said quite unprompted and nearly under her breath. Gideon grinned, feeling an unexpected prick of pride, even as her palms were suddenly sweaty.

“Thanks toots.”

‘You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow but we’re brave

And I like you’

The drive loosened up from there, which was good because it was long. And it turned out Lorde was indeed an artist Harrow could tolerate. They found a few favorites, even as Harrow would question her on lyrics that Gideon didn’t have a good answer to.

“Look you’re just going to have to ask Lorde.” She’d said at one point which had gotten a roll of the eyes and the barest hint of a smile that made Gideon smile in turn.

Now they were pulling up to this thing and she realized it had a valet which suddenly made her car feel very pedestrian.

She climbed out of the mismatched door and didn’t miss the slight arch in the brow of the young kid in the vest coming to offer her a ticket stub.

The woman on the other side opened the door for Harrow who rose out of it with all the grace of a wet cat. But she pulled it off in her own way.

“Well don’t you look lovely today Miss.” the lady said, a thick accent and smile lines at the edge of her eyes.

Harrow, for all the things she handled so beautifully, absolutely did not know what to do with compliments from strangers as it turned out. She simply stared with the faintest color of red on her cheeks and her shoulder awkwardly stuck between high and low and dislocated.

Gideon shifted around the car quick, tossing the keys to the kid without another look and ending up beside Harrow with the crook of her arm out toward her.

“Shall we?” She said, feigning bravado and luckily drawing Harrow’s stare away from the poor lady who had said the most basic thing and basically got a skulking velociraptor in return.

Harrow slid her arm through Gideon’s slow, like testing for a trip wire, and damn her arms were cold. All of her was so freaking cold, she really must not circulate.

“Thanks.” Gideon said to the lady, trying to save face, and started walking them away and up the stairs.

“Why are you being so weird Nonagesimus?” Gideon asked under her breath as she walked them.

“I am not.” She said coolly, and with zero conviction, but Gideon dropped it, simply taking them into the fancy house. 

And holy shit, was it ever fancy. Like out of a victorian era movie.

“Okay so which of these things is a sconce?” Gideon asked, looking up at the intricate paintings on the ceilings and the decorative and gaudy columns crafted to hold them up.

“Those.” Harrow said, gesturing with a nod to a light fixture on the wall.

“Seriously? A lamp?”

“Not a lamp. A sconce must be mounted.”

“Why?”

“That’s what makes it a sconce.” She said flatly, but in the kind of flat that felt very Nonagesimus. She’d straightened up a bit more and looked more herself even in the brief bit of conversation.

“Being on a wall?” Gideon continued.

“It’s from an old Latin word that meant hidden because the base of it- do you actually care about sconces Griddle?” She said suddenly fixing her with a look. Gideon shrugged.

“I mean no, but enough to listen politely as you talk about Latin.” Gideon said. Somehow it was the right thing though, and Harrow continued. She also pointed out that the ceiling pictures were called fresco’s. The types of columns (who knew there were types?) and the tiling were Greek.

“Dang.” Gideon whistled. “This place is pretty ritzy.”

“Why is it so ritzy?” Harrow asked skeptically. “This is a book launch.”

“Yeah, I guess one of the families she interviewed in her book had donated this house to the historical society? So they insisted she use it for this launch party. I mean it’s called Ulysses Mansion, so I figured fancy. But this is fancy fancy.”

“Glad I didn’t wear the turtleneck.” Harrow said absently.

“Glad you didn’t either.” Gideon agreed.

Then paused when Harrow stared at her like what she just said was incredibly strange and vile. “What?”

She replayed the last 10 seconds and understood now that her brain had spoken some nonsense quite against her wishes.

“What?” She deflected back. Not having a good answer.

“Hello!” Came a friendly woman with her hands clasped before her. Gideon luckily recognized her as Magnus Quinn’s wife from all the pictures he'd kept of her on his desk.

“Hi Mrs. Pent, congrats on the book.” Gideon said, hopefully smoothly ignoring Harrow’s pointed look.

“Mrs. Pent, how formal. Does that make you both students of my wonderful Magnus?” She asked kindly, hair long and brown and eyes a similar shade behind her thick circular glasses.

“Yes ma’am.” Gideon chuckled, running her free hand along the back of her hair. “Well I am, this is just uh- my plus one?”

Harrow raised an eyebrow at her before releasing her arm and extending her hand.

“Harrow Nonagesimus. Lovely to make your acquaintance. Your books are actually quite interesting, not the usual drip I see posturing as academia these days.”

Gideon felt her eyes shoot up, unsure if they were about to be escorted out by security in golden coats, but Mrs. Pent was laughing. She took Harrow’s hand with both of hers.

“Well thank you for saying so. I hope you know, I take that as no small flattery, as I deal with many many drippy types.”

She kept speaking and Harrow was somehow flourishing. They talked about a few things that were way over Gideon’s head, but for the first time she felt a breath of relief.

Bringing Harrow had been a good idea.

Abigail introduced Harrow and Gideon to a few other people, thanked them both profusely for coming, and left them near the snack table.

Which was exciting for Gideon. She made a little plate and tried to look like a sophisticated figure as she stacked cubes of cheese and crackers and little pastries she’d never seen before.

“Wanna try any of this?” Gideon asked, turning to Harrow who was standing with her arms crossed.

“No.” She said dismissively.

“Come on, they got little croissants and I assume at least one of these cheeses is Bree. That’s fancy right?”

Harrow seemed unmoved, so Gideon scanned the table for anything that would dip the scales in her favor until she saw it.

She placed her plate down to make a second and turned to offer proudly.

“Here, what about this?”

Harrow glanced at the plate she was being offered.

“Eggs?”

“Deviled eggs.” She clarified. “They’re the like upscale version of egg salad, come on, you’ll love them.”

“I know what deviled eggs are.” Harrow insisted, but stared down at her boots with a scowl.

Gideon ate one of them with an over exaggerated ‘mmmmm’ sound and Harrow ultimately took the plate from her and a fork.

The redhead smiled, and quickly scooped up a few cubes of melon onto her plate while she was at it.

Harrow stared at them like snakes, but Gideon gave her beseeching eyes and she rolled hers before slicing through it with her fork to take a bite.

Gideon felt a sense of pride, then a buzz from her pocket and she fished out her phone to check the notification, eyes suddenly going wide.

“No way.”

Harrow looked instantly concerned, but then Gideon was stringing her headphones through the very stiff collar of her shirt and popping it into one of her ears.

“Griddle… what are you doing?” Harrow asked.

“K. Flay has a new song.” She said as if it explained everything, but Harrow stared more confused than before.

“I repeat my question.”

Gideon rolled her eyes. “I want to hear it.”

“Here?”

“Its not a big deal.” Gideon said, successfully looping the earbud.

“You look like secret service.” She said, turning away from her as if a lost cause, and heading across the room to look at a series of paintings.

“Ooh so official.” Gideon taunted without any real fire.

The song started playing and Gideon could tell she already loved the bass. It was epic and angry and grungy and just starting, promising more as it lead into the empty spaces and snares.

She walked over to the table with champagne and scooped up two glasses to blend in.

‘Eyes… meeting mine.

Your style was so unusual I knew I had to say hi

Wild, but Im shyyyyy

Coming

Anditscoming

Anditscoming

Anditscoming

Andits-‘

Epic. Totally epic. Songs like this made her wish she could play an instrument, but instead she was content to be blown away by those that could. To not see the strings pulled behind the magic.

She found herself stepping casually to the beat, taking a sip of the champagne.

‘Coming

Anditscoming

Andits-

Timid but impatient

My mind is racing

Things that I could

Do to you to get

Your body shaking

Wish that I would ask you

Meet me in the bathroom

Running

Andimrunning

Andimrunning

Andimrunning

Andim-‘

Her eye caught sight of that familiar black space that was Harrow. The blackest little dot in any room, no matter the surroundings, she was somehow darker. Like the sun wouldn’t dare bother her. Or like she absorbed every bit of light.

‘I wanna get you close but I don’t know how.

I wanna feel your tongue moving in my mouth.’

Gideon swallowed subconsciously, realizing only after that there was no champagne. It seemed like an auto response had misfired as she stared off at that little absence of light. 

‘Saw you on the other side

Dancing bloody valentine

Wanna take you back to mine

Show you what I’m really like

But Im too Shyyyyyyy’

“Gideon!”

Her head snapped to attention and her hand went up to knock the headphone loose, hiding it down her shirt with a brush through her hair.

“Professor Quinn, hey.”

“Professor Quinn was my father, well not really, but let’s pretend. Formalities schmormalities. I’m so touched you came!”

He spoke as cheerful and quick as always and threw an arm around her shoulder.

“How’re your studies?”

They caught up like old friends and she found herself thrilled to be around him again.

It had been embarrassing when Harrow had asked why she wanted to come, but the truth was this.

These were people that never talked down to her, were kindly, and made her feel… good about herself.

That was worth the absurd drive and the tight collar on her shirt.

She chanced a look at that little dark spot across the way.

She was really glad she’d decided to come even without the explanation.

*********

The whole party had been… fine. Pleasant, drab, but not in a way like her parents events had always been. The people had been happy to talk about their subjects and listen in turn and Gideon had been smiling ever since she’d reconnected with her old professor.

In fact she hadn’t stopped smiling. Harrow could see why she’d wanted to come now.

The drive home was calmer, like a lake with no ripples.

Gideon had shifted to something jazzy with snaps and an acoustic guitar plucking. She liked the woman’s voice, even if it sounded rather suggestive and coy.

‘I’m not sentimental

But there’s something ‘bout the way you look tonight

Hmmm

Makes me want to take a picture

Make a movie with you that we’d have to hide

You better lock your phone

And look at me when you’re alone’

She thought to tell her as much but the silence that had settled was like a towel on your shoulders after a cold shower.

“Hey… thanks for coming with me.” Gideon said without looking away from the road. “It was pretty cool.”

She nodded once, then thought that may not suffice. It had been perfectly pleasant. She deserved a few words to say as much.

“It was pretty cool.”

Gideon’s smile widened, and Harrow relaxed in her seat little by little, tapping to the guitar strings when the engine chose that moment to sputter and die.

“Nononono-“ Gideon leaned forward, frowning and keeping control of the car as she shifted it out of the road and into an abandoned looking parking lot.

To be fair, most things in this backwater town looked abandoned.

“Shit.” Gideon said with a sigh, resting her face on the steering wheel as the engine puttered out with a final sigh. “Shit shit shit shit fuck.”

She let out a low sigh, before sitting back in her seat.

“So, car is a little upset.”

“I’ve gathered.” Harrow said.

“I’ve got the tools to deal with this back at my place, but it is like an hour walk…” She winced at this part and rubbed her hand over her face. “I think you’re gonna have to wait here for me until I can get there and get back.”

“No.”

“Harr I really don’t think-“

“I’ll come with you.”

Gideon stared back at her with her abject confusion. “That’s a really stupid idea, it’s raining out there.” She thumbed over her shoulder to the obvious storm outside.

“Barely.” Harrow countered. “This is not a negotiation, I refuse to sit in a car waiting two or more hours for you to retrieve me.”

Gideon sighed heavily.

“Yeah, it does sound shitty. But making you walk in your dress clothes all the way there seems worse.”

“I can handle it just fine.” In her eyes it was the only thing that made sense.

Gideon frowned, then turned to the back of the car.

“Okay, wait here for a second.”

She opened the door and popped outside to the trunk, flipping open the hatch, then bracing back against the cold rain to the drivers seat.

“Put this on.” She said, placing an old worn hoodie onto Harrow’s lap.

“Gideon-“

“This is not a negotiation.” She said in a partially mocking tone before shutting the door.

Harrow huffed a breath of disdain but looked down to the faded black fabric. It was warm at least, she awkwardly placed it closer to her face to sniff it and see if it was rank with trunk smell.

But no, it smelled simply of faint lavender detergent and mostly of Gideon.

She spared a glance at her own ensemble, and admittedly knew walking in this state would be worse. She supposed she could accept this kindness.

As she pulled it over her head she felt a slight drop in her chest.

She really should stop showing me so many. If she knew… she wouldn’t bother coming back for me time and time again. 

The walk was fine, the rain had mostly died down but the wind was truly abhorrent. Whipping up in bursts that made Harrow shield her face with the sleeves on this massive hoodie, the hem running down past her knees, and the sleeves well past her fingertips.

The smell of Gideon was stronger now that she was embalmed in it. She wondered how long it would linger on her skin and dress.

Gideon walked a few steps ahead of her but kept looking back as if to make sure she hadn’t been swept away between blinks.

The rain was making the white of her dress shirt practically transparent where it stuck to her shoulder blades and skin. 

“Well cut through up here.” Gideon gestured to the empty rec center.

She had faint memories of this place when she was young being open. A place where they’d have field trips and swim classes and after school programs.

How it was a vacant building with boarded up doors and windows that had been there so long they’d greyed and decayed.

The pool itself was drained and used on occasion as a skateboarding bowl, and evidently graffiti practice given the random slurs, phrases, and letters she caught plastered in neon shades.

Gideon gestured to a part of fence that was caved in and left an opening they could squeeze through. Harrow nodded and Gideon pulled the wired part back for Harrow to cross through, less tangled and troubled.

They walked past the pool deck, some random furniture still lying present and sun bleached around them. A foot of water had gathered in the deepest part of the pool from the current storm.

Gideon gestured what way they should go and Harrow followed, ducking her head as another particularly bad bout of wind tore through.

Gideon turned back to look at her again and then her eyes went wide and she stepped very quickly toward her.

“Watch it-“ Gideon lifted her hand as Harrow heard something else whipping up in the wind and a parasol had come loose from the tables and blown right at them.

Gideon palmed it, directing it away and over Harrow’s head as she ducked, hearing Gideon swear and a splash of red among the rain.

Gideon stumbled back as the umbrella went free and Harrow realized how close they had gotten to the empty pool amongst the sudden chaos.

Harrow reached for her without thinking and Gideon, hand holding beneath her nose, reached back.

Their hands met and there was something warm on them, and Gideon’s foot she watched slip out behind her, just hitting the uneven part where it started to fold toward the pit.

They fell rather quick for everything else having seemed to be in slow motion. She felt herself fall into Gideon, and Gideon wrap around her in response.

She felt an impact but no pain, just more rain and some wet around her shins.

They were in the puddle, but otherwise… unhurt.

Gideon panted and then laughed an airless thing.

“You’re gonna have to get that dry cleaned.” She said, still joking even with them at the bottom of an empty pool.

She moved to stand up and only now did Harrow realize she was cushioned almost entirely by Gideon’s body. She popped up quickly, and then took in all the red staining her white shirt.

“Gideon.” She said, frowning and leaning closer to check for injury as she shifted up onto her palms.

“Bled like a fountain, geez stop being so dramatic nose.” She said, wiping the back of her hand across her face. Evidently the umbrella pole had knocked against her nose, causing all the blood, and currently it was running down and staining her already drenched shirt.

“Shit, sorry. That’s probably not sanitary.” She said, looking at Harrow’s hands. Evidently when she’d tried to keep Gideon from falling in she’d grabbed the hand that had been holding the blood and she saw the red pigment staining around her fingertips.

Gideon looked at herself, now completely drenched from the puddle and rain combination, and reached for Harrow’s hands, taking them gently and dipping them in the puddle.

Harrow was frozen, watching as she washed the blood from her fingertips and palms, pressing softly between the flesh until the sin had been removed.

“Pool water’s probably got tetanus or something, but better for now.”

She shifted to stand, pulling Harrow up to her feet by the same hands and smiling, even with the red still staining her neck and shirt. Casual as if touching her that way was normal. As if being gentle with her was an option and not an onslaught.

“Shall we?” She asked, gesturing toward the shallow end.

Harrow still said nothing because it was too much. Simply too much.

All too much. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t-

“Harr? You okay? Did you get hurt-“

“Gideon it was me.” She said finally, loudly, and because if she kept it in one second longer she thought her hatred for herself would consume the last fragments of her mind.

She looked confused.

“What, you were the umbrella in my face just now?”

“I’m the reason the first family gave you back.” She said. Hearing the horrible echo it made around the bowl of the pool. “It’s because of me. So you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t show me kindness. It’s undeserved.”

Gideon just stared at her. Silence and an expression she couldn’t read, or didn’t want to. Harrow turned away.

“My parents… after one of our schoolyard rumbles, they… called for your parents to come in.”

She could see it even now. The classroom with the small plastic chairs and letters painted on the wall, and the blank scowls on her parent's faces.

“They belittled you, called you terrible things for what we’d done to each other. Even then I knew it was wrong. You hadn’t done anything to me I hadn’t to you, but they spoke as if you were some criminal for being a child getting in fights on the playground. Your parents apologized profusely, trying to avoid a threatened lawsuit, and ultimately the principal agreed and told them you couldn’t come back to school. And that… that’s why. Because of me.”

She spoke far too quickly, and loud, uncertain of the volume with the storm still buffering around them. But she needed her to understand. To know the depths of her deplorable nature.

It had soured her childhood early, before everything else had, to watch how her parents treated other people when they weren’t convenient. Then for many years she never saw that bright flicker of a child again, at least not until she was a full on teenager and now adult.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” She said, knowing her omission was all her choice. “When this arrangement came to pass I should’ve told you. You kept being so cordial to me… and then beyond cordial. Kindly. Friendly even. But I don’t deserve it, not after what I’ve done to you Griddle.“

She heard her shift closer in the puddle and assumed that now she’d take her vengeance. Perhaps drown her in this foot of water, perhaps simply walk past her and never look back.

Instead she felt two hands on her shoulders grasping her firmly. She looked up, expecting to see some form of fury or disdain or blooming hatred, but it was nothing of the sort. If anything it was one of the most gentle ways anyone with a bloodied nose and golden eyes had ever looked at her.

“I know all that Harr.” She said, low and calm, like she was talking to a spooked animal.

Maybe she was. Harrow felt her whole body tense as if she was going to flee or scratch or bite her hand.

“What?” Is all she managed.

She remembered walking out of that classroom, and there in the hallway had been Gideon as a child. Much as she was now. Puff of red hair, yellow school polo, khaki shorts showing off the scuff on her knee and a dried bloodied scratch on her face. She’d watched Harrow leave and gave a little wave. Harrow hadn’t waved back.

“I know all of that. I heard them.” Gideon said, like it was obvious. “I was in that hall, and went over to the door and pressed my little ear to it, and heard all that shit they said. I know. What I don’t know is why you think it’s your fault.”

Harrow felt everything slow and still. Because it is. She wanted to say. Because everything I am is an extension of them. That’s what they’d always told her. Because you shouldn’t have been laid out to suffer alone.

“First family didn’t give me back because of that.” Gideon said firmly in the face of Harrow’s silence. “It’s… fucking hard okay? Being some kid whose parents didn’t want them. Though blessedly, you make having parents look way worse, so maybe I dodged a bullet. And when you’re an adult it doesn’t hurt the same. You have your own keys and your own future in your own fucking hands. When you’re little you don’t, so you act out a lot. At least that’s what I did. So yeah, getting kicked out of school wasn’t good, and I wasn’t the best little twerp. But first family found out they were pregnant, which they didn’t think they could be, so having an actual baby to bring into the world they didn’t want this reject hanging around too.”

There was a hurt memory there, deep and buried over, but obvious. Like a tomb reflected in her eyes where she’d buried that potential self.

“They cried when they brought me back. I didn’t. I decided none of them were getting my tears after that. Then family 2 sucked and I survived it, and I’m here banged up and battered through all of it, but... for the first time, with a real shot at a future I actually want. And none of that is because you sunk me, alright?”

Harrows mind was whirling to keep up.

“You- you should hate me.” She said finally.

“Well tough shit, I don’t.” Gideon countered, and Harrow realized the rain had stopped.

She tried to push Gideon away but she held her firm.

“My family destroyed yours, you should hate me. There is no getting around that.”

“Harr.”

“No, no, you can’t-“

And then Gideon pulled her into an embrace.

Harrow felt some stray rain drops running down her face, and the world was silent beside her heart hammering away in her chest. She punched her shoulder weakly.

“Stop it.” She said, voice strained. “Stop it Griddle- just-“

“You’re not them Harrow, you’re you. I’m not mad at you.”

And then Harrow’s fight left her and she went practically limp.

Eventually when they parted Gideon took her hand and gave her too sweet a look, guiding her toward the shallow end of the pool, then hoisting herself up and reaching back to pull Harrow up.

When she took her hand she realized something had changed between them yet again.

Tender as a bruise, they walked in a comfortable quiet. It was strange to let this guard down. To let any guards down was borderline intolerable but Gideon kept worming her way through them.

*********

Arriving to Gideon’s there was still this strange sense of remorse and peace playing out as Harrow tried to accept things Gideon already had, and within all of these large breakthroughs she realized she’d never seen where Gideon lived. She wasn’t really expecting what she got.

But Gideon looked over her shoulder as they turned the corner toward her shed and gave her an expression that dared her to make a comment, pitying or otherwise. Given the nature of the day, she declined, and that seemed good enough for now to extend their truce.

She lead them in past the tarp and kicked on a space heater in the corner of the crowded room. It wasn’t messy per se, just… cramped. Though every space seemed to serve a purpose. Crates that were stackable with shoes and coats. A shelf overtop the bed with books and papers stored. Still some gardening equipment that was probably here before the young runaway that ended up staying.

“Sorry, it should heat up quick. Dry at least.” She said, wincing slightly as she picked up a laundry basket to clear a chair for Harrow to sit on. She unfurled a towel from it and handed it to Harrow. “It’s clean.”

Harrow nodded, wiping off her face and seeing some of her makeup smear across it. Whatever. At this point she was sure they both looked wild, and her insides felt so raw she couldn’t find it in her to be self conscious.

“I’ll get you a dry jacket for the walk back.” Gideon said, picking up a hand towel from the same basket and wiping it along her face, drying off her hair and some of the red pigment that still lingered. 

She fished in her pocket and pulled out her phone, sliding it into a boombox and soft music kicked in with a click. It looked like such a natural action. She probably did it every time she walked into this room.

She turned toward a small wardrobe in the corner, shedding her suspenders with a sigh and rubbing the towel over her hair.

‘Sitting Poolside

Wondering if I’ll find a girl like you

Or if Im gonna die

With nobody to hold onto.’

The music played over soft indie electro pops of music. Strangely somber and upbeat at once.

Harrow averted her eyes immediately as she saw her start unbuttoning her very drenched shirt. She turned her back to Harrow and slid it down her shoulders with a shiver, then fished out a dark grey shirt. She grabbed a second one and turned over her shoulder.

“Did you want to change out of your dress?” She offered, but Harrow shook her head. It was logical, but felt a step further than she could manage today. Gideon didn’t push, just nodded and put it back in the drawer. She recovered a different hoodie, this one a lighter shade of grey and some logo of a bird on it, then tossed it her way.

Still in just her black sports bra she reached over to grab the laundry basket from the bed and dumped out the last few clean clothes on the bed before placing it on the ground between them.

“You can put the wet things in there.” She nodded, and as she turned to put on her dry clothes Harrow saw it.

The scar.

“Wait.” She said, stepping forward quite on auto-pilot.

Gideon froze solid at her approach, eyes trailing her as she did the quite unexpected thing and reached her hand out toward Gideon’s chest.

“What’re you doing Nonagesimus?” She asked in an almost whisper. Body tense from her approach.

Harrow stilled her fingers, hovering an inch over the healed over line that ran across her chest, disappearing behind the fabric, but coming out the other side. Jagged and the wrong shade of tan from the rest of her skin.

“Is this…” She started, but didn’t really have the words for it. Just the full body reaction at seeing the sight that someone almost took her away in a gutter with a knife, and she’d have lost her for good. She wondered if she’d have felt it… wherever she’d been in the world. That their entanglement had truly been severed.

“Yeah, it’s from that.” She agreed. Harrow looked at her again and Gideon took a long breath between her teeth before giving a nod. Harrow took that as confirmation, and for whatever reason that possessed her, she rested her fingertips on the edge of it. As if she could wipe it away, or understand it better.

“Were you scared?” She asked. Voice a whisper, but still seeming too loud.

“Yeah.” She said in a similar voice. “But not for the reasons you’d think. Not to die, but… to die as this person I didn’t like. Least now I like her a little more.”

The wound had been deep. She’d seen enough scars in her medical studies, and along her own body, to know the extent and the stories that usually went with them.

“I have one very similar to it.” Harrow said softly under her breath, hearing that soft song pick up in the silences between them.

‘Cause I’m a little bit tired of waiting

Little bit tired of racing round my room

Little bit tired of patience

But not so tired that I can’t meet you by the Poolside.’

“You do?” Gideon asked gently. Eyes watching where her hand lay very intently.

Harrow had let her reveal all of her story, while still keeping her own very close to her chest. But for them to be equals… she would have to let out her own demons. No bullshit. One Flesh… One end.

Harrow inhaled sharply, feeling her shoulders go up as she was willingly returning to this memory.

“Griddle, do you remember that song you played me near the beginning of the semester that you said was like being held under water?”

“And you freaked out and turned it off? Yeah.” Gideon said. Somehow Harrow knew she’d remember.

“Can you put it on now?”

Gideon nodded, slowly stepping away from where Harrow could touch her to fiddle with the machine. That same song kicked in, and Harrow was instantly transported to the moment when she was twelve. Her hand, now no longer resting on a scarred chest, went to recede to her side but Gideon took it, and that was strangely comforting. To have something grounding in this moment where all of her walls were collapsing.

The soft strings picked up again, and the rain still trickling outside all combined as the music swelled, and she closed her eyes and took a breath.

“I think I need to explain to you how my birth came to pass.”

She could still see the headlines. They’d been cut out and framed all around her father’s office. They’d followed her for her whole life.

“My parents are both surgeons, and they’d put their careers above starting a family for much of their lives, to the point where fertility had become an issue. When my mother was confirmed pregnant with me she’d already lost two embryos and had many false alarms, so they took this chance very seriously from what I’m told.”

Excuse me too busy, you’re writing your tragedies

Mishaps

You bubblewrap

When you’ve no idea what you’re like

So let go.

“When I was born… I had a hole in my heart.” She could imagine the ribs and jokes of her being a heartless creature. Physically at least, it had been true almost since birth. But Gideon merely squeezed her hand.

“This was an obvious inconvenience, and I was to die in hours. But my parents, against all codes of ethics and rules, operated on me. They tried something far and wild and out of the box, and… it worked. It worked well enough for me to be standing here 20 years later, but it also worked so well that their careers were suddenly entirely elevated.”

She swallowed at this part. Visualizing the scar on her chest, neat and tidy, that how somehow saved her life and doomed her from any chance at normalcy.

“The family life they had supposedly wanted had now become an after thought, as they were asked to travel and speak at sermons, colleges, conferences, resident at different prestigious hospitals. I was a child and they were gone for almost every memory I have of them. They’d stop in maybe once a year, keep up appearances, but the life they wanted and strove for was now theirs, and I wasn’t a part of it.”

“Fuckers.” Gideon said protectively, and Harrow chanced a look at her eyes to see them glowing in that golden shine. Like shields that had risen in her honor.

“I can’t blame them in a way…” Harrow said, looking back down at where Gideon was still holding her hand. “But I can resent them.”

She took in another breath as the chorus was swelling in the song.

Oh it’s so amazing yeah.

It’s alright, cause there’s beauty in breakdown.

“And I did. Resent them. But also myself in a way, because it didn’t feel like I could hate them. Or should hate them. But from a young age my aunts would stay with me. They were awful, I preferred loneliness to them most of the time, and they gave it. I fed myself, went to the grocery store, took buses when needed, and in a strange way became their estate owner. Sending out things they needed when it was too inconvenient to come home. This was much of my life, and at age 12…”

She took another breath.

“I just… felt like I’d had enough.”

Gideon gripped her hand tight. She thought she might not have even realized she’d done it.

“I drew a bath one night, and it was storming outside, and I sat in the water with the lights off. I hadn’t even bothered to put them on, because everything felt dark with or without them on. I dipped under the surface at one point and… just couldn’t find it in me to come back up.”

She could feel the water crushing in on her lungs. Feel the pressure in her nose. See the tiles in that bathroom rippling above her with the water obscuring everything else. Feel the porcelain on her back.

“It wasn’t so much that I wanted to die, but I realized that if I did stay in the tub forever… no one would know. I could disappear, just like that.”

Gideon sighed through her nose, something pained on her behalf.

“And then… the house phone rang, and I could hear it under the haze and… I realized if I left no one would answer the phone.” She shrugged. “I broke the surface and shook, expelling water and… stayed.”

She didn’t take bath’s anymore after that. Never quite trusting that on any given day the thought might not return.

“Harr…” Gideon said, voice broken and light in the wake of the story. “I’m so bloody sorry.”

Harrow felt her shoulder rise up.

“I don’t want your pity Grid-“

Then Gideon gently pulled her back into her chest. It wasn’t like before when she’d held her as a straight jacket. It was warm, even as their skins were cold. It wasn’t pity. It was someone who knew.

“I’m glad we both made it.” Gideon said lightly, beside her ear in a way where her breath tickled the back of her neck.

Against all instincts and odds, Harrow felt her hands reach up and wrap around her.

Letting herself be drawn like a moth to a flame.

“Me too.”

So amazing, yeah

Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown.

And the violin hummed to a stop.