Archive of Our Own

Yet you didn't know her at all. You could only imagine what her skin feels like. Only guess how many scars rest beneath her clothes. Only wish to comb your fingers through her hair.

Because Abby was your friend and nothing more. She saw you as an equal, as an ally, but that’s where it ended. You were reminded of that fact daily. Seeing it in the way Owen looked at her, and how her eyes glittered afterward. They understood each other on a different level, one that didn’t come close to what you and Abby shared. And knowing about their history made things even more difficult.

Yet you were still hopeful. Somehow, you hadn’t lost hope over time. Your heart still fluttered whenever Abby smiled at you, and butterflies still grew in your stomach, making you feel that innocent, childlike love. A silent reminder, a prayer, that it wasn’t over. Not until your heart gave up. Not until you decided to.

And at one particular party, your heart was being extra hopeful. Making you do foolish things. Saying things you shouldn’t.

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It was a warm night—the kind where fireflies glided through the air and frogs sang in the nearby ponds. The kind where people would build fire pits and make s'mores, back in the normal days.

Today was a successful day, dedicated to celebration. The WLF base was finally finished, and the last groups of scouts had returned to declare the area around our base infected-free. Food and water supplies were filled to the top, and everything was thriving.

Fairy lights were hung, fire pits were lit, and dogs roamed freely. People drank what little alcohol they could find, ate whatever food was being served, and most importantly, celebrated.

You drank and smoked and danced with your friends. But it didn't matter how drunk you were, or how much you wanted to rest. Your mind was always too busy, your eyes always searching for her in the crowd. Watching her laughing with others, celebrating in her own way. Your body naturally drawn to her. It was instinct. It just felt right to be around her.

So it was no surprise when you found yourself close to her again later that night. By that time, most of the soldiers had gone inside the building. You could see only a few fires dancing around. Your own fire pit slowly dying out. And the music playing only in the background.

Abby was the first one to break the silence.

“So we finally have a second to ourselves. I’ve wanted to catch up with you the whole night, but whenever I saw you, you were on the dance floor.”

“What, you jealous that I got my hands on so many other people?” you teased, a lightness in your voice. The alcohol making you a bit bolder.

“You mean the uninteresting and boring people? No, not at all. Besides, I don’t dance,—”

You gasped a bit too loudly at that, causing Abby to stop mid-sentence. And before she could ask what was wrong, you were already on your feet, walking toward a small radio. An idea already forming in your head. You suddenly felt the hot blood rushing through your body, filling you with excitement.

“Abby, it's not a real celebration without dancing!”

“Oh no. Nope! There’s no way we are doi—”

Soft music cut Abby’s words short again. While a sly smile spread across your face, Abby looked like she had just seen a ghost. Always so fierce and tough yet now she seemed small and overwhelmed. Looking a little frightened.

Your laughter echoed around you as you started slowly swaying your body to the melody. Trying to set the mood, and hopefully improve Abby's reaction. 

“Come on, Abbs, don't try to argue with me,”  you called to her, giggling at how stupid this was. Asking her to dance. With you. Still expecting this to somehow work out. But something about tonight feels different. 

Her silence breaks your heart a little, but you won’t give up so easily. 

Pushing the thoughts behind you, you shuffle forward. Dancing your way to her. Ignoring your burning cheeks and wobbly legs. Once you’re near her, you try to bow as elegantly as possible and extend your hand.

Your eyes find hers, piercing her with a fierce stare.

“May I have this dance?”

Abby bursts out laughing. You follow quickly after. Being drunk and in love is a dangerous combination—making you do stupid things.

Containing your laughter as much as possible, you manage to say,

“Come on, Abigail, dance with me!”

She slowly puts her hand on top of yours, while exhaling in a defeated way. She gives you a judgemental look with her eyebrows slightly curled 

You can feel her hesitating. To encourage her, you squeeze her hand gently. Pulling her up. You can see her cheeks turning red, covering her freckles. You study her face more. Her eyebrows are arched, her mouth curled into an embarrassed smile, and her eyes trying to avoid yours.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She slips her hands out of yours, looking guilty.

“Abby, you’re thinking too much. Just... I don’t know, try to copy what I’m doing,” 

you try to start, mentally kicking yourself for such a poor answer.

The air between you both is filled with dreadful energy. So much for the happy dancing. Any unanswered questions that were still hanging in the air fade away when a new song starts playing. You don’t hesitate and act, trying to break the awkwardness.

“Dancing is fun,” you say as you start to move your body again, feeling the song through.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Abby answers, but you notice the smallest hint of a smile on her lips as she starts copying you. Her movements are stiff and chaotic in the beginning.

You go like this for a long time, mixing the steps. Getting closer to each other. Feeling both of your bodies radiate heat. Giggles now accompany whatever song is playing. Abby grows bolder every second, dancing in her own way.

You slow down a little bit to admire her—how her hair moves, how her muscles flex when she moves, how her eyes close when a particularly good part of the song comes on, and how she bites her lip when she tries a more difficult move. Oh, if only you could just pull her down and kiss her. Your heart jumps up a little, and butterflies fill your stomach. Before you can pull yourself together, Abby speaks up.

“You know, I’ve never danced with someone.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You can see she hesitates before continuing, nervous about what’s about to happen.

“…So, I’d like to give it a try.”

“What do you mean? Abbs, we’re dancing together.” You laugh the answer out, a confused look on your face.

But before you can react, she closes the distance between both of you, catching your hand in hers while resting the other one on your shoulder. Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls slightly open.

The realization hits you only a second later. However, the nervousness stays. And grows even larger. The butterflies in your belly turn into anxiety. The night’s air suddenly feels freezing cold while your body burns. You only manage to get a quiet, “Okay,” out.

While her grip is featherlight and unsure and hesitant, yours is firm and warm and welcoming.

Seeing Abby so hyper-aware and fidgety from a little dance feels so different from everything you know about her. She’s always so sure of herself—on every mission, in every situation. Except for this one. This dance.

“Okay.”

You reassure yourself again, and with a small nod, you begin moving.

It’s awkward and slow. Missing the beat of every song. But you keep going. Keep moving. Feeling your bodies touch whenever you move too fast and Abby too slow. Your shoes slowly get covered in dirt from being stepped on so often. Light laughter fills the area.

You look up at Abby. She’s biting her lip again, concentrating.

Her nose scrunches every time her foot steps on yours. And from time to time, small sounds of frustration escape her lips.

When a new song starts playing, the whole energy shifts. It’s a lively song—wild music filled with wild dreams. You decide to spin out of her reach, leaving only your fingers intertwined. Laughing at yourself, at how normal this feels. Dancing with Abigail at night, under the fairy lights and stars like something you couldn't even allow yourself to dream about.

She slowly spins you back to her, getting her courage back—the courage you love so much. She smiles and laughs, spinning and twirling with you. It’s all too clumsy, but neither of you seem to notice it.

The fairy lights, the embers from the fire, the fireflies around you, and the stars above you are your only company. Mixing together as you spin.

Then a slower part of the song starts playing. The playful energy calms down, allowing you to catch your breath. However, your heart keeps on beating frantically in your chest. It even quickens right as Abby’s hands sneak down to your waist, resting there. Her thumbs drawing lazy circles that set fire inside your body. 

Your gaze finds hers, and without even realizing it, your own hands find their place behind Abby’s neck. Interlocking together. Your fingertips ever so often brushing against the long braid that rests on her back. The hair that holds so many memories and even more promises.

You spin in a slow circle, feeling each other’s breath on your skin. You can barely hear the music over the loud heartbeat in your ears. Feeling everything at once. Sounds of contentment and nervousness escape from your lips.

And before you can stress about your sweaty hands or the fact that you are all dirty, Abby speaks up.

“Do you remember when you asked me about being jealous of you for dancing with others, and I said no?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, I was jealous. A lot. But not of you...”

There’s a silence. Even the dancing stops. Anticipation swinging in the air. Your eyes search hers for an answer. And just when you’re about to crack a joke to lighten the mood, she interrupts you.

You feel her fingers at your waist, playing nervously with the hem of your shirt. An act so small but so Abby like. 

"I wanted to rip them all from your arms. I was so jealous of them, because I didn’t want to see you dancing with them."

"You wanted to keep me from dancing? Was I that horrible you couldn’t even look at m—"

"Me. I wanted to dance with you. I was jealous that you chose to dance with them, and not me."

She’s holding you a little tighter now, but still keeping a small distance. Like she’s wearing armor—too afraid to let go completely. And the longer you stay silent, the more walls she starts to build around herself. Brick by brick as seconds pass. The radio keeps playing, the fireflies keep on flying and the world keeps on spinning. Yet you are frozen in place. 

Her face stays solid, but her eyes betray her. Glossy and vulnerable, reflecting the light from around. You can feel the emotions stirring up inside her, as her mouth twitches. Leaving things unsaid and hidden.

"Oh."

"Oh."

You move your hands to her shoulders, grounding her — and yourself — this way. Slowing down her breathing just slightly. She's the only solid point; not even the ground itself could support you like she does. Swallowing hard as you grip her tighter and step closer. Almost pressing your body to hers. Just inches away. Breath catches in your throat, your voice betraying you just when you need it.

"Abby, hey, look at me."
Those words come out in a whisper. So quiet, you aren't sure if she even heard you.

At the same time, your fingers slide to her jaw, pushing it in the direction of you. She doesn't resist or fight against you. Letting you do whatever you want. Letting you see this side of her. Oh, and how you adore this — getting lost in the depth of her eyes. The blues and greys drowning you slowly. So raw and just so gorgeous.

Hesitating at first, you slowly bring your hand toward her face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Enjoying this closeness as your palm rests on her cheek.
"So beautiful," you breathe out.

To your surprise, Abby leans into your touch. Gripping your hips a little tighter, pulling you a little bit closer. Needing just a little more.

You rise to your toes. Grabbing her face with both of your hands now. Tilting your head up more. She's still too tall for you. Your lips part slightly, so eager to taste hers. Yet you don't move more. Only drinking her in with your eyes. Switching between her lips and eyes. Wanting more. Needing more. Yearning for more.

You suddenly feel her fingers digging into your sides as she pulls you toward her entirely. Closing the small, meaningful gap. Pressing into you as she bows her head down. Causing you to gasp a little as her lips crash into yours. It's a messy kiss. Too wild yet still careful. It's something new, yet it feels like something you've done your whole life.
Closing your eyes, you let yourself get carried away. Pushing into her with everything you have. Sliding your tongue deeper. Growing wilder. You don't wait for her reaction. Wanting more and more and more. And—

Abby pulls back. Breathless and a little wide-eyed. You both breathe deeply, filling your lungs with oxygen again.
You caress her cheek with your thumb, hoping to fight off the unsureness. You can't help but smile. Giggling a little bit. Feeling overjoyed with everything. After all this time. Shaking your head slightly, you call her name.

"Ab—"

"ABBY! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Owen. You would recognize that voice anywhere.
Your smile fades as quickly as it appeared. You can already feel Abby’s body slipping away from yours, her head jerking toward the sound.
Realization hits you — and her — like a punch. This has been a mistake, one that could ruin everything.
She’s still in your arms, but her mind is already somewhere else.

"Come on, we—"

There's a pause in your voice.
It’s no longer just the two of you. Suddenly the world feels too open again, too real.

"You don’t have to go, right? Stay here. Stay with me,"
you say, voice low and lost. Whispering the wish you've carried for months.

But she’s already stepping back. Her hands leave your hips, and cold air ghosts over the place they used to warm.

You shiver. Your arms fall to your sides, lifeless.
Breath catches in your throat. It hurts.

"I have to go. What—what if it’s important?"

Her movements are robotic, hesitant.
And when you really look into her eyes, you think you catch a glimpse of regret and panic — but you aren't sure anymore.

It suddenly feels like you don’t know Abby at all.

One, two, three steps back. You don't hear her next words over the sound of your heart breaking. Six feet apart now feels infinite. Seven, eight. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
Then she turns around and disappears inside the stadium, not looking back nor apologizing. You blink, and she's gone. Abby left you there. Alone.

Her steps echo through the building, stretching the distance between you, creating a rift you aren't sure any bridge could overcome.

You don't try to yell or fight or beg her to stay. Your throat hurts as it tightens, and your hands begin to tremble. But you don't cry; you won't allow yourself to anyway. There was never you and Abby — it has always been Owen and Abby. So obvious from the beginning.

It could never be you and Abby.

The fire dies out just as her footsteps disappear completely. Even the fireflies around you choose to seek shelter, leaving only you and the stars as the cold, dark night swallows you whole.