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Erin got the call just when they came back to the firehouse after a bust. She’s got all this adrenaline rushing through her still and she’s so happy, always is after a call out. All four of then start to disperse once they get inside, Abby calls first shower and Patty is already ringing the pizza place to put in an order as she walks upstairs to change, it’s already nearing on midnight and they’re all starving. Holtzmann flings herself in possibly the most ungraceful movement Erin has ever seen onto the couch and let’s out a strangled, dramatic sigh.
“Comfortable?” Erin says with a smirk, as she places herself down in one of the armchairs with her feet up underneath herself.
Holtzmann groans in a somewhat positive intonation against the pillow her face is squished into, she seems to be already falling asleep.
In Erin’s pocket her phone begins to vibrate and she pulls it out of her jeans to see her Mom’s name on the screen, she answers quickly and doesn’t even take into account that it’s the middle of the night and her Mom probably shouldn’t even be calling.
Holtzmann hears Erin say, “Hey Mom, how are you?” as she’s walking out of the pseudo lounge area into the kitchen and Erin’s voice trails off. Holtz closes her eyes again, her body aching in the slightly pleasant way after the bust, like she knows that she’s done a good job and pushed herself. A few minutes later Holtz feels someone sit down on the other end of the couch and she pushes her eyes open a little bit and sees Patty.
“Pizza’s coming in half an hour,” Patty says absentmindedly as she turns on the TV and begins channel flicking, “Where’s Erin?”
Holtz looks up and expects to see Erin sitting in the armchair again, flicking through her phone, but it’s empty.
“Oh, not sure. Her Mom called a little bit ago, probably still talking to her,” Holtz says as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, rolling her neck out, “Want a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good thanks,” Patty says as Holtz starts to move off towards the kitchen, half in search of some sort of alcoholic beverage, and half because she inexplicably worries about Erin’s wellbeing significantly more than anyone else’s, which Holtzmann tries not to give too much thought to otherwise the emotional part of her brain begins to go into overdrive and that’s a waste of time honestly.
As she rounds the corner into the kitchen, she hears Erin’s sharp breaths before she sees the tears and Holtz’s entire body stiffens. Because god, she’s not good with her own emotions, let alone other people’s. So truth be told, she’s just as surprised as the next person when Erin looks up in shock making eye contact, that Holtz rushes forward and clutches at Erin’s shoulders, looking at her with manic worry in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” Holtz says in quick succession, she’s looking around for something that maybe have injured Erin, but all she can see is her phone and a few empty mugs.
Erin pulls in a shaking breath through wet gulps, like she’s trying to say something but can’t get it out. She can’t seem to get enough air in her lungs.
“My grandmother,” Erin starts, so quiet and so small, and shit, Holtz can see where this is going, “She died, about an hour ago. A heart attack. She didn’t even make it to the hospital.” Erin’s voice cracks on the last syllable and a sob comes out hard and violent, her own shaking hand comes up to cover her mouth as more tears start to fall.
Holtz’s face crumples as she watches Erin, and she pulls her in quickly, holding her tighter than usual, trying to stop her from trembling. She’s just quietly saying, “Shh, you’re okay, you’re fine,” into Erin’s ear as she cradles the back of her head against her own neck.
“Patty! Abby! Get in here,” Holtz says just loud enough so that the other two will hear her, but hopefully not loud enough to startle Erin, but she jumps a little anyway.
Patty and Abby round quickly into the kitchen and Holtz tells them quietly what happened, and she steps back a little regretfully to let them hug Erin. Holtz leans up against the opposite counter and fingers at the collar of her jumpsuit, a little damp with Erin’s tears and she almost feels like crying herself.
It’s silent for a moment, Abby has Erin pulled into her side and Erin’s just looking down at her hands where they’re tangled together, like she can’t make eye contact with anyone. Once the silence seems to become too much, Patty asks so gently, “You know we’re all here for you, baby, take as much time as you need to go home. Do you know when you…have to be back for?” And everyone knows that she’s asking about the funeral, but blessedly doesn’t say the actual word.
It all seems to be a little too much for Erin to think about right now, so she starts shaking her head, “No, I just…I don’t know.” She pushes herself off the counter and starts towards the door, eyes wild and red-rimmed, “I need to go, I need to go home.”
“Erin, wait!” Abby says after her and she follows her out of the kitchen. Patty and Holtzmann make eye contact, both deciding to leave Abby to it. They quietly start to fumble around with drinks and plates in the kitchen, silence overcoming them.
It’s not long until Abby comes back into the kitchen, looking defeated and incredibly tired, “She’s gone home. I think we just need to leave her be for a little while. They were really close, her and her grandma. She’s completely shut off.”
The three of them stand there as Holtz nods, because it feels wrong to talk, like anything she says wouldn’t be the right thing. Because all she wants to do is go and see Erin, make sure she’s okay. Hold her again. But she won’t, Abby knows her better and knows what she needs.
They all eventually move back to the couches, the pizza arrives but it doesn’t taste as good and there’s an awful air of sadness surrounding them all. Unlike a normal bust, where they all generally stay the night in the firehouse, a little too drunk and definitely too full to go home, all of them are back at their own apartments within the hour.
…
For once Holtzmann was downstairs on one of the workbenches and not upstairs in her own lab. The whole firehouse was too quiet and at least downstairs she could hear Kevin at his desk near the opening of the big, red double doors.
Abby and Patty were out dealing with the team’s attorneys trying to sort out patents for Holtz’s inventions. Holtz doesn’t think it’s particularly necessary, the other two do, and therefore Holtz’s stubbornness eventually won out and she’s manning the firehouse.
And Erin, well she hasn’t been back yet. It’s been almost two days and they haven’t heard from her, but at Abby’s request they’ve left her alone. Apparently she’ll come around in her own time.
Usually Holtz would be working up in her lab until her little heart’s content, and Erin would come in eventually and ask to use the workbench in the back that’s bigger than any of the others. Because, as Holtz has discovered she likes to do her calculations on sheet paper rather than a whiteboard and lay them out in front of her, until the whole space is covered. Eventually Holtz just started using other benches, always leaving just than one surreptitiously free of any scrap metal or singed tools.
But it’s too quiet up there now, without Erin’s soft scratch of pencil on paper and her small sighs when she ran her hands through her hand when she’s frustrated. Holtz couldn’t even seem to drown out the silence with music, so she came downstairs and started using one of the spare benches. She wasn’t even doing anything in particular, just trying to rewire a circuit board, trying to distract herself.
She heard this faint buzzing, coming in short, sharp bursts from just to her left. Trying to ignore it, because generally if something is malfunctioning in the building, it’s up in her lab so Holtz thinks it’ll be a small poof at most. But it keeps buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing. So eventually she slams her feet down from where they were resting up on the bench and tries to search.
Holtz unearths papers and old mugs and books upon books, until she finds it. A phone face down, with a case she recognizes as Erin’s, and it’s started vibrating a little to the side now it doesn’t have papers weighing it down.
She flips it over with one finger, like it very well may explode and the caller ID says ‘Mom’. Which isn’t much of surprise at all really. Watching it for a moment, wondering what to do, it stops vibrating suddenly and the lock screen shows 23 missed calls from her mother, and another few from who she assumes are other family members trying to get in contact with Erin.
Thinking about how she’ll have to try and get this to Erin somehow, the phone starts vibrating again with another call from Erin’s mom. Holtz bites the inside of her mouth in worry and debates for approximately three seconds about the ethics of answering someone else’s phone.
She eventually does, because when someone’s mother has called them 23 times, they’re only a few away from calling missing person’s and that could be a whole other thing that could be easily avoided.
“Hello?” Holtzmann answers, wincing at the slightly high-pitched nervousness in her voice, she clears her throat.
“Oh Erin, thank god, oh my goodness. Why haven’t you answered your phone?” Mrs. Gilbert almost shouts hysterically through the phone, causing Holtz to pull it away from her ear a little.
“Um, no, sorry, this isn’t Erin. It’s Holtz, I mean, Holtzmann. Jillian Holtzmann,” she stammers through, mentally criticizing herself.
“Is Erin alright? Why can’t she come to the phone?” Erin’s mother says quickly, panic rising in her voice.
“No, she’s fine! I mean I think she’s fine; she’s…upset, for obvious reasons. But she just left her phone here and she’s been at her place the last couple of days,” Holtz says, trying to make sure Mrs. Gilbert doesn’t panic anymore than is necessary, “I’m going to take it over to her right now though, so don’t worry.”
There’s a small silence on the other end of the phone where she can hear Erin’s mom letting out a breath of relief, “Well good, thank you, Jillian,” Mrs. Gilbert pauses for a second.
Holtzmann doesn’t exactly know what to say anymore, hadn’t really planned particularly far ahead in the conversation so she resorts to a stilted, “I’m very sorry, about your mother.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Mrs. Gilbert answers in a way that says that’s about all she’s been saying for the past two days, “And thank you for looking after my girl, Jillian. She talks about you often, you seem to care for her very much.”
And to be honest, Holtz is pretty stunned at that, but can’t explain the warmth that spreads in her chest to hear that Erin talks about her to her mother. That’s something new. It’s lovely.
“Well, I do. She’s a pretty alright lady herself,” Holtz says almost absentmindedly, still thinking furiously about this new information.
Suddenly, there’s a small laugh that comes from the end of the phone, almost uncontrolled, “I mean I know Erin has never been particularly open about her love life, but imagine, talking to her girlfriend on the phone for the first time.”
Holtz’s heart must have stopped beating for a minute there, because that would be the only explanation for the pure feeling of panic that has risen around her, ‘Erin’s mom thinks I’m her daughter’s girlfriend? Shit, shit, shit, shit.’ Holtz is about to interrupt with a long string of negations when Mrs. Gilbert starts talking again.
“I mean, I hate to bring it up, but I just couldn’t stand her last girlfriend, and neither could her grandmother. So I’m very happy she seems to have found you, her grandmother would be as well, I’m sure,” Mrs. Gilbert finishes softly, audibly sad.
The resounding ‘I’m not Erin’s girlfriend!’ dies on Holtzmann’s tongue, and she can’t seem to bring herself to say it. I mean the woman is talking about her dead mother here; you just can’t shoot that down. So she leaves it, Erin can work through that later. Not the time right now.
“Well…that makes me happy that you’re happy. Surprisingly happy, so surprising it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time myself,” Holtzmann says overly jovially, truth be told, the whole situation is hilarious in retrospect. “I gotta go now, Mrs. Gilbert, but I’ll make sure that I get Erin’s phone to her.”
“Yes, please do and thank you so much Jillian, for everything,” She says, and the phone line goes dead.
Holtz slumps back in the wheelie chair behind the lab bench, unaware that she’d been pacing nearly the whole phone call. She lets out a near mad bark of laughter and runs a hand through her hair, “Fuck me, this is too good.” And she promptly gets up, swiping her leather jacket and wallet, and starts the short walk to Erin’s apartment.
It doesn’t even occur to her until half way through the walk, making her stop dead in the middle of a busy New York sidewalk, that Erin’s mother knew Erin was gay. That she had mentioned an ex-girlfriend. That she loved women, like a real life, honest to goodness, lesbian, maybe bisexual, who the fuck knew, but Erin was gay.
Honestly, Holtz had done her wishin’ and hopin’ when they first met, but assumed upon approximately 10 seconds of talking to Erin that she was chronically, tragically, and dreadfully straight, and she had never even thought to investigate the matter any further. If anything, Holtz is just severely disappointed in her own gaydar. But all of this was true food for thought, investigations were necessary.
…
Holtz braces herself outside Erin’s apartment door, hearing the faint buzz of the television from inside. She raps her knuckles in increasing intensity, bargaining on the fact that Erin was going to ignore the door completely. Just as her skin begins to sting the door opens, revealing an incredibly disheveled looking Erin. Her hair is lanky and pulled into a messy bun, big dark circles underneath her eyes against a pale face, and Holtz wouldn’t be surprised if those sweats had been on her body for the past 48 hours straight.
“Dr Gilbert, fancy seeing you here,” Holtz remarks, in what she hopes is half sympathetic and half cheery. At least try and lighten the mood a little.
The side of Erin’s mouth quirks up like a tiny facial tic, but Holtz counts it as a win, even though it falls back instantly, “Hey Holtz,” and she steps to the side of the doorway and begins to walk back into her apartment. Holtzmann follows her and closes the door gently behind her, pulling the lock.
Erin sits down heavily on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them, she looks so small. Holtz follows her and sits down in front of Erin on her coffee table, leaning forward on her knees, propping her chin in her hands.
“Sorry I haven’t been back to work, I just…” Erin trails off, fiddling with a piece of thread on her sweatpants.
“Instantly forgiven, despite the fact your presence has been missed,” Holtz says quickly with a small smile, “What do you say I order a pizza, and you go and shower, because I’m sure you haven’t and by the time you get back we can drown our sorrows in some cheese.”
Erin smiles sort of sadly, and pushes herself up off the couch using Holtzmann’s knee, “I’d say that you’re just about right on every front. I’ll be back, don’t break anything.”
“Sure thing, sugar,” Holtz says with a wink, and pulls out her phone to order the pizza.
By the time Erin gets back, the pizza has just arrived and Holtz has opened a couple of beers of undetermined freshness she found in the fridge and settled herself back on the couch as Erin walks in.
Erin sinks back down into the couch, grabbing the beer on the way. Holtz watches the way her slightly damp hair frames her face, and the way she smells like mint and flowers and steam, it’s a little intoxicating. Neither of them says anything, but Erin sends the first genuine smile Holtz has seen on her face and she can’t ask for much more.
With the pizza eventually finished and bottles emptied, Holtz fishes Erin’s phone out of her overall pocket and flings it into her lap, “You left this at headquarters.”
Erin picks it up and just hums in agreement, not offering up any actual words.
“I answered a phone call from your Mom, she’d been calling a lot and I didn’t want her to worry,” Holtz says carefully, dragging out the last words, “She really seems the tiniest bit desperate for you to call her back.”
Rubbing at her eyes, Erin winces and groans softly, “Yeah I know, just thought if I ignored it for long enough it’d all just go away…stop happening, you know?”
Holtzmann nods emphatically, “Totally get it, completely understandable. However, as disappointing as it is, it probably isn’t going to go away, and your mother seems like a very kindly lady and I made her a promise and I would like you to ring her back.”
Erin snorts out a bit of a laugh at that, “Will do then.”
“Do it now,” Holtz says simply.
“Holtz, it’s almost eleven at night, she’ll be asleep!” Erin says, though she knows that’s a weak excuse at the best of times.
Holtz just tips her head to the side, giving Erin a look that says it’s incredibly unlikely that she’ll leave this alone until Erin calls her.
“Ugh, fine! You’re a menace,” Erin says, though she doesn’t exactly mean it. She walks into her room and Holtz hears the faint sounds of a one-sided conversation, and occupies herself flicking through Erin’s coffee table book that’s a photography book with hundreds of tiny houses in it. Which Holtzmann decides is both the strangest and most Erin Gilbert thing to own, and it’s all very oddly endearing.
Eventually, Erin walks back in and walks straight past her couch into the kitchen. Holtz watches her for a moment, deciding to follow, so she throws herself over the back of the couch and takes a seat on one of the breakfast bar stools as Erin starts to boil the kettle. There’s silence for a few moments until Erin runs out of mugs to put tea bags in and she turns around, leaning against the counter.
“The funeral’s in two days, on Sunday afternoon, back in my hometown,” Erin says voice trembling, she’s crossed her arms tight across her own chest, like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“You going to go?” Holts asks tentatively.
Erin snaps her eyes up to Holtz’s, “Yeah, yeah of course I’m going. I just…it sounds awful, but I really, really don’t want to. I can’t think of anything worse.”
Holtz doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think she could say anything that would make Erin feel any better. She waits for her to keep talking instead.
“I can’t stand the thought of driving the five hours there and sitting with my own thoughts and being miserable, and staying in my old room, and having to make small talk with my whole extended family and having to go to the church and sit there and cry. And she won’t be there for any of it, because she’s dead,” Erin takes a deep breath, her voice still surprisingly steady, “It’s just shit, it’s so shit.”
The kettle stops boiling and there’s no more noise to shroud the silence, so Holtzmann says, “I’ll go with you.”
She’s not entirely sure why she says it. But it’s there now, floating in the void of space between them and Erin’s eyebrows rise slightly and her mouth drops a little. Only the tiniest difference, but Holtzmann notices.
“What?” Erin says, after a beat.
Holtz shrugs, and says with more confidence, “I’ll go.”
“No you won’t,” Erin says after a beat.
“Yes, I will,” Holtz says, leaning forward on the counter, “Your mom loves me already, she thinks we’re dating.” Holtz thinks this is about a good a time as any to bring that little nugget up, and it brings up just about the desired reaction she was hoping for. Erin’s face drops completely, and then immediately turns into a wide grin and Erin’s actually laughing.
“She does not,” Erin says, still laughing a little.
Through her own wide smile Holtz says, “Oh but I assure you she does. I think she assumed because I answered your phone and apparently, a certain someone named Erin Gilbert, and I quote, ‘talks about you often’.”
Erin can feel herself start to blush furiously, and she wishes desperately for it to go away, but she’s still smiling, she’s not sure why, “I talk about all of you a lot! I spend all of my time with the team, why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t believe that even the tiniest bit, just to let you know. But I’m flattered Dr. Gilbert, I truly, truly am,” Holtzmann says as sincerely as she can manage with a wild grin plastered on her face.
“I am going to let you know though that you’ve totally fallen for the greatest mind manipulation my mother has ever pulled, and she’s probably so proud of herself right now,” Erin says, barely concealing her laughter.
Holtz squints her eyes, “What are you talking about?”
Erin starts pouring the boiled water into the mugs and says, “Well, my mother has the grand theory that I’ve started to date one of my co-workers, namely you, because I spend so much time with you guys, and I keep telling her that her that this is decidedly untrue. She thinks I’m lying; the whole thing keeps going round in circles. Until now, where you have confirmed her greatest theory yet, by I assume, because you’re telling me about this, that you haven’t told her that she’s wrong.”
Holtz is trying her hardest not to burst out laughing, “This is what I get for trying to be nice. She seemed so happy about it! I didn’t want to crush her dreams immediately, I was hoping you would do it gently at a later date!”
Erin is laughing again as well as she places the mug of tea in front of Holtzmann, “I gotta let her know then, I’ll have to remember to ring her in the morning.”
“She’ll be so sad. I’d make such a brilliant daughter-in-law, she thinks I’m lovely,” Holtzmann says, gripping her mug close to her face.
Erin hums and rolls her eyes a little, but she feels strangely warm and it’s not just the tea. She doesn’t doubt that Holtzmann managed to charm her mother in the space of one phone call.
Holtzmann clears her throat, “But seriously, I’m going to come.”
“Holtz, really you don’t have to do that,” Erin says, but all she wants is for her to come. She just wants someone there, and god it’d feel right if it were Holtzmann.
“I know, but I want to. I wanna make sure you’re as okay as you can be. I can even drive,” Holtz offers.
Erin considers it for a second, and throws the entirety of her caution to the wind and says, “You’d really do it? For real?”
“Couldn’t get a whole lot realer than this,” Holtz says with a grin, “I mean I understand if you want to go alone, or even take Abby, I know she’s met your family before and stuff, but – “
“No, you are good. I mean, that’s good, I want you to come,” Erin cuts Holtzmann off awkwardly.
Holtzmann grins wide, her face stretching, “Great, you want to leave early-ish right? I can be here around 9 tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Holtz,” Erin says, as Holtzmann begins to get up off the stool and grab her leather jacket from the back of the couch, “Thank you. For coming, and for this, for tonight, made me forget for a minute,” Erin says, gesturing around her head.
Walking backwards towards the door, Holtz smiles easily and says, “You are the most welcome.”
Erin walks up to the door as well and opens it for Holtz, leaning against the frame as Holtzmann presses the button for the elevator and waits. Suddenly, Holtz turns sharply on her heel and takes a couple of steps towards Erin, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were gay?”
And that takes Erin a little bit by surprise actually, she opens her mouth to answer, but takes a second before words come out, “I guess…it just never came up.”
Holtz tilts her head a little, before saying quietly, “Yeah I suppose.” There’s a beat of silence before she continues, “I kinda wish you’d told me.”
“Why?” Erin asks, and there’s an answer in the back of her brain that she’s almost wishing for, but knows it won’t come.
Holtzmann just shrugs her shoulders hard, “I don’t know. Nice to know you got another player on your team I guess. Camaraderie and all that.”
Erin snorts out a laugh, “Well you never told me that you were gay.”
“Well dear Erin, did you ever have literally any trouble surmising that for yourself?” Holtzmann says as the elevator door dings open.
“I suppose not, point taken,” Erin says with a smirk, “I have been told I seem incredibly straight.”
As Holtzmann backs into the elevator she says, “You should listen to those people, those are smart people. I agree wholeheartedly with them. Maybe you should work on that? Get a lil’ gayer?”
Erin rolls her eyes, smiling, “Goodnight, Holtzmann.”
Just before the doors of the elevator snap shut Holtzmann grins, “Goodnight, Gilbert.”
…
Holtzmann is leaning up against the side of her car the next morning, a few minutes after 9 as she watches Erin walk out of her building, waving politely to the doorman.
“Goodmorning sunshine,” Holtz says cheerily, swapping out Erin’s bag for one of the take away coffee cups she’d just bought for them both.
Erin raises the cup a little bit as she speaks, “Thanks for this. Are you sure you want to drive? I’m happy to you know.”
Holtz shakes her head quickly, “No way, I hardly ever get to drive in this city anymore. I’ll take any chance I can get.” She climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to face Erin who’s already buckled in. She plugs in her phone and starts to play music through the speakers, and Erin is not in the least bit surprised that it is the most eclectic mix of music she’s ever experienced. One song it’s a some sort of 90’s hip hop, then a little bit of synth pop, followed by a classic 80’s hit. It’s all very Holtzmann.
They drive in silence for a little while, and it’s only just verging on the line between comfortable and uncomfortable. Because they’re both thinking about what’s about to come in the next couple of days, and how they’ve never done anything like this before with each other, let alone many other friends.
Erin decides to break the silence with something that’s been bothering her since the night before, “Did you really think I was 100% straight?”
Grinning, Holtz glances over, “It’s like you’ve never even seen yourself. Aesthetically you are the pinnacle of heterosexuality.”
“Maybe I should do something about that,” Erin muses, “Where do you get your clothes from?”
“Amalgamation of places, I guess. Thrift stores mostly though. I like taking other people’s clothes though, more fun,” Holtzmann says with a wicked grin, “Just about the only thing some ex-girlfriend’s have been good for honestly.”
“Nasty break-ups?” Erin asks.
“Nasty people, more like,” Holtzmann says with an exaggerated grimace, “Apparently I can pick some doozys, or some doozys pick me.”
“You haven’t had a girlfriend since the whole Ghostbusters thing started, right?” Erin asks. She’s beginning to realize how little she knows about Holtzmann, despite the fact it’s closing in on a year since she met her. It’s worrisome, this fact, she has this desire to want to know everything, truly want to know the answers to questions, not just ask them out of social niceness. It’s dizzying.
“Nah, too busy. Just a few dates and stuff here and there,” Holtz says simply, she doesn’t say that the three women surrounding her everyday are enough. That they’re smart and capable and kind. That the few dates she has been on seem lackluster, and she wishes she were back in the firehouse with her friends again. With Erin, maybe. Holtz tries not to think too hard about that particular fact.
“What about you?” Holtz asks innocently.
“No, me neither. I’d just gotten out of a relationship a couple months before though. But nothing on the home front since then,” Erin finishes with something between a sigh and a laugh, trying to dispel the awkwardness of mentioning a previous girlfriend. She doesn’t really like talking about her love life too much.
“Fair enough,” Holtz says as they lapse into silence once again, and she hopes that Erin can’t hear the slight relief that crept into her voice.
Time passes quickly enough, and the music gets louder and Holtz sings along obnoxiously and Erin laughs easily and she almost forgets where they’re going. Why they’re going. She imagines having to do the drive on her own, just with the radio to accompany her and it makes her stomach hurt just thinking about it. She couldn’t be more grateful to Holtzmann if she tried.
Eventually, Erin suggests pulling into a diner for some lunch because Holtz has started to get restless behind the wheel and they’re both a little hungry anyway. They wander in and sit in an empty booth next to the window and are served quite quickly even with the afternoon lunch rush. Both get extra pickles for their burgers, despite the fact that Erin hates them, Holtz loves them and they’ll all end up on her plate within seconds of being on the table.
“My mom asked me to write a eulogy for the funeral,” Erin says without looking up from where she’s been dipping the same French fry in ketchup for the last five minutes.
Holtz lowers her burger from her mouth and places it down, staring straight into Erin’s eyes once she lifts them, “What did you say?”
“I said I would,” Erin responds quietly.
“You don’t sound particularly thrilled with that,” Holtz says slowly.
Erin pops the fry in her mouth, “Well, I’m not, but I can’t say no.”
“Sure you can,” Holtz says leaning back into the booth, spreading her arms out.
Erin quirks one eyebrow at her, “I have to do it.”
“You don’t have to do a singular thing you don’t want to, it’s totally up to you,” Holtz says quickly, she seems tense and verging on angry.
“My mom says I’ll regret it if I don’t, and I really don’t want to do it, but what if she’s ri-“
“No-one can tell you how to grieve,” Holtz cuts Erin off, now she seems mad. Holtz takes a deep breath in and bites the inside of her cheek, her fingers tapping against the vinyl of the diner table.
Erin doesn’t feel like she can say anything, Holtz is just sitting in front of her, all stiff and overwrought, her eyes darting back and forth from making eye contact with Erin, unsure of herself. Erin assumes she’ll elaborate, and it doesn’t take too long.
“Okay, so, uh, pretty sure you don’t know this,” Holtz starts, and it’s all choppy and keeps getting stuck in her throat, and she can’t seem to make eye contact with Erin, “but my mom, she died when I was nineteen. Happened pretty quickly, got the Big C, and a couple months later she was gone. I remember everyone asking me to write a eulogy for her funeral, bugging me so hard for it, saying I’d regret it if I didn’t do it. And I just really, really didn’t want to.”
Holtz takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together, staring down at the pattern her fingers make together, “And so I didn’t. I didn’t do it, and I haven’t regretted it a single day since.” Holtz finally looks up at Erin, whose eyes are shining a little bit, “So no, you don’t have to do it. Don’t let anyone tell you that you have to.”
Erin just stares at Holtz, who has now gone back to staring at her hands, her jaw shaking a little and Erin’s chest hurts more than it should. She reaches out and places a hand over Holtz’s fists, which have now gone white with the intensity she’s grasping them together.
“Holtz,” Erin starts quietly, “I had no idea, I… god, I’m so sorry.”
Holtz shrugs her shoulders and twists her mouth into sort of a sad smile, “Ain’t no thang, it was a long time ago.”
Erin squeezes a little at Holtzmann’s hands until she feels them relax underneath her touch, “It is a thing, doesn’t matter how long ago it was.”
Erin swears she hears Holtzmann breath out a little, “Thank you,” but she’s not sure. But moments later, Holtzmann untangles her own hands and grabs Erin’s that’s sitting on top and kisses at it emphatically a few times, making loud smacking noises that draw attention from other diner patrons, her signature manic grin plastered on her face, “You’re a gem, Erin Gilbert.”
Almost rolling her eyes, Erin thinks she shouldn’t find it as endearing as she does that Holtzmann can’t seem to stick to a serious conversation if it switches to her own emotions. But she does, and she’s stopped being as surprised as she used to be about what’s surprising about Holtz.
…
They pull into Erin’s parent’s driveway a couple of hours later, and Holtz whistles low and impressed.
“Damn Gilbert, you didn’t tell me you were loaded. I totally would have suggested we keep up the fake girlfriend game and marry into your trust fund,” Holtz says while observing the huge house in front of her. There’s a big front yard, with a perfectly manicured garden, a wide porch and shuttered white window frames up into the second story. Looks like something out of a renovation show.
“Oh shit, fuck, fucking shit,” Erin says, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide as she turns towards Holtz, her seatbelt almost choking her.
Holtz places a hand against her chest and gasps dramatically, “Erin! Watch your profanity, I’ve never heard such foul language come from your mouth.” And it was true, Erin was certainly not one to use curse words. That was Holtzmann’s territory.
Erin slowly lowers her hands from her mouth, “Holtz, okay don’t freak out, because I already am and we need someone who’s not on the verge of a panic attack here. But I may have forgotten to tell my parents that we’re not actually dating.” Erin says the last sentence incredibly quickly, so that Holtz almost doesn’t catch it.
Holtz’s eyes also go comically wide, and her mouth is slack for a moment before it turns into the biggest grin Erin has ever seen as she starts laughing, “Oh Erin, what are we going to do with you?”
Erin slumps in her seat and places her face in her hands, “I rang her this morning to tell her that we were both coming up today, and I was about to tell her and then she brought up the eulogy and then we got in a massive argument about it and I just completely forgot about it. Oh my god, this is a complete fucking nightmare.”
Holtz eventually stops laughing when she realizes Erin is genuinely stressed out about this, “Don’t worry, we’ll just say it right off the bat, don’t let it go on much longer, okay?”
Looking over at Holtz, Erin asks, “You reckon it’ll be okay? She won’t be angry?”
However, it doesn’t take long for Holtzmann to realize that this may end up being completely and entirely not okay.
Erin’s mom opens the door and immediately flings herself around Erin, and Holtzmann almost feels like she’s intruding on something, which she supposes she is a little so she starts to step backwards to give them more space when Erin’s father comes to the door behind his wife.
“Hello, you must be Jillian,” he says extending out a hand, with a warm smile, “It’s so nice to meet you.”
The greeting happening beside her seems to pull Mrs. Gilbert away from her daughter as she steps out of the hug, wiping a little at her eyes with her cardigan sleeve.
She steps towards Holtz and engulfs her in a hug as well, “Jillian, so nice to finally meet you.”
“You too Mrs. Gilbert,” Holtz says as she places her hands around the woman.
“Oh no dear, call me Rose, please,” she says into the hug, “Thank you so much for coming.”
Rose eventually lets her go, and she places her hands on Holtz’s shoulders, squeezing gently. Holtz watches over Rose’s shoulder that Erin is in the middle of hugging her dad, she looks so small against him.
“Thank you so much for coming, it means a lot,” Rose says in a watery voice, like she’s on the verge of tears again, “I know Erin appreciates it so much. I can’t bear the thought of her doing this without someone; it’d be so difficult. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Michael.”
And fuck, what are they going to do. Holtz starts to panic a little bit as she realizes letting this woman down, may actually break her heart. Rose is standing in front of her, telling her all these lovely things, she’s about to totally crush any hopes and dreams about her only daughter being happy.
Suddenly, Erin is there and she has this nervous looking on her face and she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, “Mom, Dad, so funny story, but I need to tell you something.”
Holtz realizes that Erin is about to spill the beans, so she quickly places a hand on Erin’s shoulder and interrupts, “Erin, sweetheart, gotta save some conversation for later,” she turns towards Rose and says, “It’s just a little funny anecdote from the diner we stopped at for lunch, plenty of time for that later. But it’s cold out, should we bring our bags in?” Holtz rushes through the last sentence and looks pointedly at Erin.
Holtz hears Rose agreeing with them and says that she’s set them up in Erin’s old room, and they start walking towards the car to get their things.
“Holtz, what the hell? I was just about to tell her,” Erin says panicked.
“I honestly don’t know if I can, your mom, she’s…” Holtz for once in her life struggles to find the words, “She’s so happy about this whole thing, and let’s be honest, there’s not too much happiness bouncing around her life at the moment.”
Erin is still staring at her with a confused expression on her face, wondering where the resolution to this appears.
Holding her fingers up and gesturing between the two of them rapidly Holtz says, “I’m just thinking, would it be the greatest inconvenience to us to pretend to be dating for the next two days, so that your mother doesn’t have another thing to be sad about and she doesn’t have to worry about her daughter being unhappy in any capacity? And then in a few weeks you just tell we’ve broken up?”
She phrases the whole thing as a question, waiting for Erin to shoot her down, which she wouldn’t be surprised at. But she just keeps picturing what Rose’s disappointed face would look like and she winces internally.
Erin’s face doesn’t seem to change much from the confused expression she has painted on, but it slowly morphs into one that seems to be a mix of concern and doubt.
“Are you serious?” Erin says, voice flat and quiet.
Holtz winces a little bit, “Uhh, yes?”
“Why would you do that?” Erin asks again, her face softening into something more palatable.
Holtz smirks and winks, “Are you kidding me? With those bowties and this house in the inheritance, I’m cashing in a hard catch here.”
Erin huffs out a laugh and seems to be debating with her own mind for a moment before she sighs, “Well, if you’re okay with it? It would mean I wouldn’t have to have that completely terrible conversation with her, and you would be possibly the greatest friend ever.”
“I could probably get used to that title,” Holtz answers back quickly, “So that’s sorted, we can test our acting skills, it’ll be a blast.”
All of a sudden Erin has flung herself around Holtzmann’s neck, “Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Holtzmann says with a laugh as Erin lets go and starts to grab the bags. They head inside and Erin takes them past the kitchen where Rose shouts that she’s making coffee and up the staircase and across the landing into her old room.
It’s almost exactly as Holtzmann pictured it, just like Erin’s apartment in New York. With clean lines and a big bed with crisp white sheets, and a door leading off into what she assumes is a bathroom. But there are a few differences, like an overflowing desk, with what looks like old textbooks and certificates, and a few posters pinned up haphazardly on the wall. One’s of what looks like a close up of the DNA Double Helix and another of a band that Holtz has never heard of.
Holtz feels her stomach twist on itself when she looks around and sees Erin sitting on the edge of the bed watching her look around the room, with a small absentminded smile on her face.
“What do you think?” Erin asks, and she almost seems nervous.
“It’s lovely,” Holtz says softly, “Very Erin Gilbert.”
…
That evening, there’s a dinner with the immediate family, around twenty of them at Erin’s parents house. They’ve all come back home for the funeral and it’s just about as charming as Holtz would expect. She’s never had a big family, but Erin’s got all these aunts and uncles and cousins and people who love her, and who seem to love Holtz as a result. And it’s all just so nice.
Holtz stands beside Erin, and they’ve agreed to keep up the charade that they’d put a little bit of effort in to look like a couple. But it still surprises Erin a little bit when Holtz places a hand against her lower back and rubs gently with her thumb while they’re both talking to her aunt and uncle.
Holtz doesn’t even seem to be noticing what she’s doing, but when Erin instinctively leans into Holtz’s side and into the touch, Holtz glances towards her with a serene expression on her face. She quickly gives her a small smile and turns immediately back to the conversation. A happy warm feeling blooms in Erin’s chest and all she can think about is how nice it feels to be with Holtz like this, it feels natural and not as forced as the theory behind it all is. She thought it might be hard to pretend, but it’s a whole lot easier than either of them thought, they blend seamlessly into each other’s personal space.
While they’re sitting at dinner, Erin observes the way that Holtz interacts with her family. Like she’s known them for years. She’s laughing loud and easy, listens intently and she’s charmingly strange. She talks to Erin’s younger cousin about the engineering classes she’s enrolled in for the next semester at college, and about how she grew up in the same neighborhood in New York that Erin’s favorite aunty lives in now.
After the meal is over, Erin’s half listening to the conversation that Holtz and her uncle are having to the right of her, she’s full and sated and a little hazy around the edges after such a big meal. She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing as she absently places a hand on Holtzmann’s thigh, a few inches above her knee. It’s something she does with her previous, actual girlfriends, and it just seemed instinctive to be doing at that moment.
Quickly realizing that what she’s done is inappropriate, considering hardly anyone would be able to see what she’s doing, so it’s not for the charade, she begins to pull her hand away. But without even looking away from her conversation, Jillian places a hand on top Erin’s and keeps it in place. Assuring her that it’s okay.
Holtz glances back after a few moments and sends another gentle smile Erin’s way, and something pulls deep inside Erin. Her hand stays there until the family starts to disperse back to their cars or into guest bedrooms, and neither of them are complaining one little bit.
…
It’s late by the time Erin and Holtz climb up the stairs slowly for bed, they’re so tired and so full, only because Rose and Michael cooked approximately five times as much food as needed, but somehow it was all eaten anyway.
As soon as the door shuts behind them Holtzmann starts wearily stripping off her clothes until all she’s left in is her bra and panties, and Erin’s just kind of standing there and quickly pulls her eyes away once she realizes she’s staring. Holtz pulls out some sweats of her bag and starts pulling them on.
Erin turns away and starts changing as well, a little more guarded than Holtzmann but she swears she sees Holtz’s eyes glancing her way as she walks into the bathroom. They stand in front of the sink together and brush their teeth, elbows just touching in the middle.
They both walk into the bedroom again and stand at the foot of the bed. Holtz eventually pipes up, “So what side do you take?”
“Uh, usually the right,” Erin says.
“Brilliant, I’m a leftie anyway,” Holtz says and she climbs up towards the pillows from the end of the bed, immediately getting under the covers and sighing happily.
Erin follows suit, but enters from the side of the bed, like a regular person. She sets her alarm for the morning, having to be up to get ready for the funeral, which starts at 11.
“Your family is ridiculously great,” Holtzmann mumbles, her eyes already half shut. She turns to lie on her side, facing in towards Erin, who’s lying on her back and fiddling with her phone.
Erin smiles at Holtz and places her phone on the bed side table and also turns to lay on her side facing the center of the bed, “Yeah, they’re the best. It’s nice to see them, even if the situation sucks.”
Holtzmann hums, watching Erin’s eyes droop a little bit, she looks so soft and all Holtz wants to do is take the sadness away if she can.
“Thank you for coming,” Erin starts, “Thank you for pretending.”
Holtzmann pauses before speaking, her tired brain taking a few seconds to catch up, because she doesn’t want to say something stupid like how she doesn’t want to pretend, how it feels all too real, “You’re welcome. You know I’d do anything for you.” And maybe that’s a little too real, but lying is this bed, faces only a few inches apart, the rest of the world doesn’t feel particularly real. Like maybe only they exist in this moment.
“I’m nervous about tomorrow,” Erin admits quietly.
“I know,” Holtz says just as softly.
“I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”
“I know.”
Erin feels her chest start to shake and she doesn’t know whether she’s about to start crying, but Holtzmann’s looking at her with these heavy-lidded eyes and her mouth hanging slightly open, inviting almost. She doesn’t think she’s ever been looked at this way, like she’s being studied so closely, like Holtz thinks she is the sun and the rest of the universe has entirely dropped away.
So Erin kisses her.
She pushes forward in the sheets, and they rustle loudly in the silence and darkness. Her lips meet Holtzmann’s clumsily, catching the side of her mouth at first, and Erin hears Holtzmann gasp a little against her. But she shifts downward, catching the exhale in her mouth, and then they’re kissing. It takes a moment but Holtzmann’s soft lips eventually give back, and for a few moments they move desperately against each other. Pouring everything into it. Erin brings up her hand towards Holtzmann’s face, her fingertips ghosting along her jaw, and Holtz sighs into Erin’s mouth upon the touch.
And then it’s over, Holtz has captured Erin’s wrist in her lithe hand and she’s retracting back into her side of the bed. Eyes downcast and breathing a little heavily.
“Erin, please, we can’t do this,” Holtzmann says and her voice is low and husky and shaking.
Erin’s brain begins to clear and the clarity of the situation suddenly dawns on her, and her stomach drops so quickly that she almost feels sick, what the fuck has she done?
“God, shit, I know. Jillian, I’m so sorry,” Erin says, hyper aware of Holtz’s hand around her wrist and she pulls it away quickly, pushing herself up into a sitting position, trying to get as far away from the middle of the bed as possible. “That was so stupid, I’m stupid.”
Holtz pushes herself up as well, sitting to face Erin, her heart beating so fast she feels like she might pass out, “No, you’re not stupid. But we just can’t do this. Okay?”
“No, I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Erin says, pulling a hand shakily through her hair. ‘Why do I have to fuck everything up?’ She thinks.
“Stop saying sorry,” Holtz says.
And then there’s just unsettling silence, the gravity of what just happened looming over them. And Erin’s so tired she feels like she might cry and she doesn’t have any fucking clue what her emotions are doing right now, pulling her every which way. And she can’t push the thought from her mind that even though the kiss was a monstrosity of a mistake, she’s never had a mistake that felt so good.
“I’m going to go,” Erin says already pulling back the covers and getting out of bed.
“Go where?” Holtz says quickly, again grabbing onto Erin’s wrist before she’s out of her reach.
“I’m going to go sleep somewhere else, the couch, I don’t know,” Erin rambles, her breath starts to come in short sharp bursts, “You definitely don’t want me in this bed anymore. Fuck, I’m a mess, I’m sorry, I’m so tired.”
Holtz’s heart breaks watching Erin in front of her, she can feel Erin’s pulse racing underneath her hand on her wrist and it seems like she’s almost on the edge of a panic attack. So she tugs gently on her arm, “Come here.”
And so Holtz pulls back the covers again and drags Erin back into the bed and immediately pulls her towards her. She holds her so tight against her, placing Erin’s head underneath her chin, so her ear is against her chest. So the rumbling beat of her heart pulsates through Erin’s body, eventually calming her, so she feels like she’s settled again.
Holtz feels Erin relax against her after what seems an eternity, and she looks down to see Erin’s eyes fluttering closed and she sighs in relief, “You’re okay, you’re not a mess. You’re okay.” She whispers against Erin’s hair, mumbling quietly enough that she’s not sure Erin will hear or not. Finally, Holtz falls asleep as well, and despite it all, holding Erin like this doesn’t feel as wrong as it should.
…
The next morning Erin wakes to the sound of her phone alarm, and a warm body pressed flush against hers. She feels Holtz stir from where she’s plastered to Erin’s back, arms wrapped around her body. Erin rolls a little out of the hold and reaches over to turn her alarm off. Holtz has already rolled onto her back and is stretching her arms above her head as she yawns wide and loud.
It takes a few moments for Erin to completely remember what happened the night before and she immediately feels ill again; Holtz probably hates her and it’s going to be exponentially awkward between them now. But Holtz finishes yawning and sends one of her signature grins her way, “You want the first shower?”
Erin just nods dumbly and gets up out of the bed and wanders into the bathroom. By the time she walks back out with a towel around her, Holtz is sitting cross-legged on the bed on her phone, towel and clothes folded up in front of her. Upon seeing Erin’s out, she smiles and hops off the bed towards the bathroom.
Erin feels Holtz brush past her and she just doesn’t really know what’s going on, Holtz seems so normal, like nothing ever happened. So before she can think she blurts out, “Why aren’t you being weird? I definitely didn’t dream that I panic kissed you last night, did I?”
Holtz places a hand on the bathroom doorframe and spins herself around to face Erin with a slight wince on her face, “No, you didn’t dream it. I just figured you probably wanted to forget it happened. I get it, honestly. You’re emotional, I was there, I have a mouth. It’s okay; it doesn’t have to be a thing. Already forgotten.”
With a short, tense smile, that seems to be more of a grimace, Holtz turns back around and promptly closes the bathroom door behind her, not even waiting for a response.
Erin has the overwhelming desire to knock on the door and argue with Holtz. She’s not exactly sure what about, but something along the lines of about how she’s not sure if it was just because Holtz was there and has a mouth. How she thinks it might be something more, but she’s not even sure herself. She’s a mess. Erin just resigns herself to not being able to figure that out today so she turns back into her room and starts to change.
A little later Erin’s standing in front of her mirror, pulling down at the fabric of her dress, it’s mid length and black with capped sleeves. Holtz emerges from the bathroom, already half dressed with semi-tight black dress pants and a white shirt tucked in haphazardly, only half buttoned up. She’s rubbing at her hair with a towel aggressively, which Erin can only assume is why it’s so untamable when dry.
Holtz puts down the towel and begins to button the rest of her shirt right up to the collar. She glances towards the mirror, and Erin sees her do a double take.
“Is it in super poor taste to say that you look really nice in a funeral dress?” Holtzmann asks while she starts to knot the incredibly loud tie she swiped from the end of the bed.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Erin says, laughing a little, and she feels some tension leave her shoulders. She just wants things to go back to normal. Wants this day to be over, to go back home to New York. To not have fucked things up with Jillian.
“Well, the feeling still stands, but just imagine I didn’t say it out loud,” Holtz says with a wink as she pulls on her fitted jacket.
…
Erin steps out of Holtz’s car outside the church and takes in a deep breath as she looks up at the tall bell tower, notes the graveyard just in eyesight to the right. There’s a chill in the air, despite the sun shining, and that seems just about right, very fitting. Holtz rounds the side of the car and hip checks Erin softly, taking off her sunglasses.
They stand there for a few moments, Holtz waiting until Erin is ready. But she begins to feel Erin’s body tremble against hers, her hands balled into fists to stop the movements. So against her better judgment now, Holtzmann pries open Erin’s hand, holds it tightly and squeezes gently. She doesn’t let go until it’s all over.
Walking into the church Holtz is surprised to find that there’s a reserved seat up in the front row for her with immediate family, and she sits down next to Erin. The service is lovely and somber, and Holtz just keeps holding Erin’s hand, because that’s about all she can do at the moment. She just has to sit there and watch tears fall steadily down Erin’s face and she swears she can feel her heart breaking with every passing minute. Her chest aches and she’s never felt this much of an overwhelming desire to take away someone’s hurt before. She doesn’t think this level of empathy is normal, and she’s trying her best not to think about what that means. How badly she wants this. Wants Erin.
…
Later in the day, the wake is in full swing and Erin’s taken a seat next to her mom in the corner of their living room. There’s people everywhere, but Erin spots Holtz immediately. Tie loosened and jacket opened, she’s laughing almost maniacally at something one of Erin’s childhood neighbor’s has said, and soon everyone in the circle of people’s she’s talking to are laughing as well. Holtz has that effect; to be able to make people happy, make them feel at ease.
Rose watches her daughter watch Jillian and smiles gently, “You know, she’s just lovely, Erin.”
“Yeah, she is,” Erin responds absently, not even stopping to think about whom her mom might be talking about.
“She loves you very much,” Rose says happily, as they watch Holtz glance over and give a small wave at the both of them.
Erin’s stomach drops a little at that, “Well, mom, it’s-“
“No, Erin she does. I can see it, the way she looks at you, cares for you,” Rose says simply, “Do you love her?”
There’s silence for a moment as Erin considers this, and it’s pure and so very clear, “Yeah, I think I do.”
That afternoon, as the sun moves across the sky with them, Erin watches Holtz out of the corner of her eye and thinks. It’s a quieter drive back than the one there. Erin keeps replaying her mother’s words in her head, she loves you very much. All Erin wants so badly is for that to be true.
…
Once they’re back in New York, Holtz follows Erin upstairs to her apartment, carrying a box of Erin’s old things that her parents had given her to take. Erin opens up the door to her apartment and dumps her bag to the side.
“Where do you want me to put this?” Holtz asks.
“Coffee table is fine, thanks,” Erin says, watching Holtz place the heavy box down carefully.
Holtz turns around and dramatically brushes her hands off and starts back towards to door, “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Unless you need to take a couple more days, which I’d totally get.”
Erin shakes her head, “No, I think getting back to work would be for the best.” She stills for a moment, “Thank you again for coming, and for…everything else. You don’t know how much it means.”
“Any time Gilbert, you know that,” Holtzmann says, and her smile is a little sad, she knows it. She wants to say more, but she squashes it down and goes to side step Erin out the door.
But Erin kind of shifts her weight to block her, just a tiny fraction, so Holtz stops. There’s a tense silence between them for a moment, then Erin breaks it.
“You kissed me back,” She says into the quiet, because if she were ever going to take a chance it’d have to be now or never.
“What?” Holtzmann asks in a choked voice. But she perfectly well heard what Erin had said.
“You kissed me back,” Erin repeats, “When I kissed you. I didn’t imagine that.”
“No, Erin, please,” Holtzmann almost begs, “We can’t do this.”
“We can’t do what? What can’t we do?” Erin asks, her voice rising suddenly.
Holtzmann gesticulates erratically between them, “This, we can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Erin asks defiantly, she’s never been this bold in her whole entire goddamn life and she’s terrified.
Holtzmann runs a hand through her hair and almost scoffs, “We just can’t Erin, I mean fuck, I didn’t even know you gay until like three seconds ago!”
And that stings a little bit, so Erin continues, her voice still probably louder than it needs to be but it just pouring out of her in waves, “I get it. I get that I’m fucked up and I kissed you out of nowhere and probably ruined literally everything. And I get that you’re smart and you’re beautiful and you could probably get any girl you want. But you kissed me back, Jillian, you did.”
Holtz almost looks angry now, she’s frustrated, “Jesus, Erin. Stop saying you’re fucked up, you’re not fucked up.”
“Just admit it, admit that you did kiss me back. You’re making me feel insane,” Erin says almost desperately.
“Yes! Fine, I did, I kissed you back. There you go,” Holtz almost explodes. And Erin didn’t expect her to sound so bitter or so sad about it, but it’s seeping from every word.
“Uh, yeah alright. I don’t really know what to say now,” Erin admits, “I didn’t really plan pass this point. Or any of this actually, shit.”
Holtz’s face softens a little bit, but she’s still taught and tense and Erin still can’t figure out totally why. It goes past the awkwardness of this situation.
“I’m sorry Holtz,” Erin breathes out, and it’s starting to dawn on her that this might be it, “I know you don’t want anything like this with me, and I don’t blame you. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Holtz says, “Fuck, Erin, I just-“
Holtz stops herself in the middle of her sentence and Erin lifts her head to look at her.
“What?” Erin eventually asks, goading her along.
And fuck it, fucking fuck it Holtz thinks.
She takes a deep breath, “Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you back? But the thing is, you’re sad, you’re so sad right now and I really don’t know what to do with that. And you kissed me primarily because you’re sad and you felt like I was there for you and you liked that and I don’t think you actually like me like you think you might. And I’m fucking terrified that after all of this sadness you’re feeling passes you’ll see me in exactly the same way as before. As a friend. As a colleague. And so I didn’t keep kissing you back because no matter how much I might have wanted to, I didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that you’re not super emotionally stable right now and honestly I don’t think I could handle it if you ended up not actually liking me. Because I’m a nice stand in for a couple of days, but I not the girl someone picks forever. Never have been. So I just can’t do this.”
And there’s just silence. Numbing, blinding silence. Erin’s just standing there, with her eyes burning and all the words she wants to say caught somewhere in-between her throat and her mouth. Holtz has always been one for speeches, but damn.
“I’m going to go now,” Holtz says suddenly and she completely sidesteps Erin, shoulders set straight and shaking.
“Wait, Holtz,” Erin finally finds her voice.
“No, I’m going to go now. I’ll see you later,” Holtz replies tersely, and she’s already rushing down the staircase, not wanting to wait around for the elevator.
Within a couple of minutes, Holtz is already fumbling with the lock on her car, mentally berating herself for what she’s just done. She always does this. Can’t stop her words, her mind from working in overdrive. She always says too much, and always at the wrong time.
Just as she’s about to open the driver’s seat door she hears footsteps slapping on the pavement from behind her and a loud, “Holtz! Please wait!”
It takes her a second, but she eventually turns around and she sees Erin stop a few feet away from her, breath ragged. They just stand there for a few moments and it’s dusk, orange light and dark shadows play on their faces. It makes the moment softer somehow, muted around the edges, like they’re the only one’s there and the busy New York street behind them is silenced.
“I want to pick you,” Erin says, and it’s quiet and so earnest that it makes Holtz’s heart ache.
“Erin, I-“
“No, let me finish,” Erin says and swallows before she starts again, “I want to try, and right now I’m picking you.” She steps a little closer and fiddles with her hands, “I don’t want to just pretend, and as sad as it sounds, the last couple of days were better than any relationship I’ve had. You’re kind and you’re strange and you’re my favorite person to be around, it’s that simple. I pick you.”
Holtz’s expression hasn’t changed, it’s still and calculating, and she’s looking at Erin like she’s a specimen that needs data extrapolated from it. And then Holtz is stepping closer, and closer again and Erin thinks that maybe this is the slowest that Holtz has ever moved in her life. It’s all slow and languid and considered. Usually she’s all jarring movements and flailing limbs, but she’s gradual now.
Erin closes the little space that is left between their bodies and she can feel Holtz’s breath against her cheek and then Holtz surges forward and it’s all soft and hard at once and all the air is gone from Erin’s body as they kiss. Holtz’s hand is firm against Erin’s jaw, cradling it so softly and Erin runs her hand up Holtz’s chest, just ghosting over her body until she reaches the dip in Holtz’s collarbones and she presses in lightly with her fingernails.
It’s all so much and entirely not enough and for a moment Erin isn’t sad. And Holtz feels like she’s home and that she’s safe. Erin begins to smile into the kiss and Holtz laughs breathily into her mouth, and they’re both okay. The city hasn’t imploded around them and there hasn’t been some ungodly disaster, just a kiss and maybe a silent promise of something more to come. And it’s all okay.