A/N: Wow, so, I didn't expect this to be so long! Nor did I expect that I'd actually like the idea of Thea and Roy together, though I do think they compliment each other nicely. I hope you like this as much as I do. Enjoy! :)
Fade to White
He had never felt this way before. He'd never had anyone else in his mind at all times, no one else to think about or care for except himself.
Until he met her.
That girl, that completely annoying, stubborn, stuck-up rich girl was all he could think about and it drove him crazy. The way her hair fell in her face whenever she flipped it, which was a lot, usually when she was mad. The way she walked confidently, with a purpose, as if she belonged even though he knew she desperately stuck out whenever she decided it was a good idea to saunter into the Glades. He hated it when she did that; it was a stupid thing to do, especially for someone of her stature, and the thought of her risking her neck just to stick it to him made him worry way too much for his liking.
He was constantly stuck in a battle between his growing attraction and hating her guts. His emotions towards her were so violent that it scared him, someone who had never given into any other person's feelings, ever. Spending increasingly more time around her was not helping his situation either. He had tried avoiding her, but she seemed to find him no matter where he hid. If he wasn't so much of a pessimist, he'd say it was fate. Right now, he thought it was hell.
He was trying to get away. He was running from his house, and from her, and so decided that the city was the safest place to hide. Well, he wouldn't say the city was safe, but the dark alleys he stuck to made him think about something other than her. But, the alleys weren't really dark in the middle of the afternoon, and he was forced to keep moving, almost begging to find trouble.
He was out in the open now, right in the middle of the business district, and now it was his turn to stick out. Everyone there was important; everyone belonged. They gave him glances as they passed, sneered as he crossed their ways. He was forcibly reminded of why he hated rich people: They were the most self-absorbed creatures he had ever had the misfortune to meet. Everything about them was conceited and self-gratifying, and he hated their sense of entitlement, how they looked down at him just because he wasn't one of them.
He walked through the area in a hurry, not wanting to spend any more time there than needed. He wanted to find the slums, his turf, a place he could call his own and not this metal wasteland. He passed by a building, one of the grandest in the city, tall and sleek with importance, busy with people, and with her name plastered right on the top. He laughed in irony, mouth twisted into somewhat of a smile. Of course he would end up outside her doorstep. He had, after all, crossed over to her home ground. He stood there for a few more moments, just taking in the cruelty of his life, before turning to go. He wanted to get the hell away from there. He had barely taken a few steps when loud voices broke out behind him. They weren't necessarily rough or threatening, in fact they were rather mild, but still he turned at the sound of that all too familiar name.
And there she was, all five and a half feet of her, stepping down the marble steps of her steel fortress like a princess. Something was going on, people coming up and approaching them with outstretched hands and pens at the ready, mostly aimed the man she was walking with. He resembled her slightly, his air just as confident and defiant, but he was more contained, much more like the sharks he saw on TV with his blonde hair parted back, dressed in an expensive suit. He smiled a practiced yet winning smile and answered with composure and grace, yet something about this man made him suspicious.
He walked further down the street to get a better angle, not really sure why he even wanted to in the first place. The man had turned away from the others, the conversation clearly put to rest, and he and the girl were left alone. He let out an overly dramatic sigh, visibly becoming more relaxed, and she jabbed him in the ribs. The man laughed as he embraced her, though he noticed that the smiled left over didn't quite reach his eyes. The way they acted so familiarly made him a tad defensive, and if he was actually thinking clearly, he would've remembered sooner that she had said she had a brother. He felt like an idiot and refused to admit he was actually temporarily jealous. The pair was joking all the way to the curb, walking slowly as if they had all the time in the world, waiting for something. He laughed. No doubt, they were waiting for someone to come and pick them up. God forbid the rich drive themselves.
Then it happened. He saw it before they did: the shift in the air, the gun beneath a leather jacket on a random passerby. He was about to act, his pulse racing as the man withdrew his weapon, but he was too far away. The man was too quick, the crowd breaking immediately into frenzy. He didn't know what was happening; the masses of people running about were blocking his sight. He ran down the block to get a clean view. Maybe if he could see something he could try to help.
But the man had the gun pointed at her brother by the time he could finally see. The man's face was calm as he faced his assailant, his body positioned protectively to cover hers. The absolute intensity in his eyes as he stared the gunman down was chilling; his instincts of protecting his sister were also something to rival, his demeanor, his calculating facial expression almost animalistic. Suddenly, he had a feeling that there was more to this man than met the eye. At the moment, he actually seemed more dangerous than the gunman.
The next move was a blur. The man grabbed his assailant's wrist and jerked. The gun didn't wrestle free, the attacker's finger tight on the trigger. And then there was a shot. His blood ran cold. He could hear her scream and his heart stopped. If she was hurt, there would be hell to pay. Oh, please don't let her have been shot. He didn't know what he'd do if she was harmed. But she was fine; the shot missed and fired into the concrete, but her brother was visibly livid and let everything go as he twisted the man's arm at an unnatural angle before decking him across the face. He could hear the crack of his jaw all the way from where he stood, and flinched.
They all couldn't hear the sound of sirens until they were right in front of them, the flashing blue and red blinding but not really processing. Her brother was pulled forcibly away by the police who had finally arrived. The man seized his opportunity and ran, slipping between the lines, and he could see the fire in her brother's eyes as the police failed to bring the runner down. He was let go as soon as they examined him, and he rushed to his sister's side as soon as the police released her too. She wasn't crying or saying a word. Her face was expressionless as he spoke, trying to calm her down. He was sure that she didn't hear his words.
There was something different about his face now, as if he was trying to act worried or scared, like he wasn't completely calm and collected during the whole ordeal. No, he was acting, putting on a mask of concern for the media that had gathered at the spectacle. He knew that his concern for his sister was true – that was evident in his actions - but this mask made everyone around him believe he was undone, that he was just as scared as she was. And they believed him. He could see that the emotion didn't reach his eyes, that it was all a show. He could tell because he was so used to putting on his own mask for everyone.
The media swarmed in masses at the prospect of a new story, elbowing past him and shoving him aside as they ran to be the first to capture the latest scoop. The police were roping off the area, but still the cameras rolled, their noses pressed into their faces. Her brother and thus her sheild had moved away, leaving her completely exposed. He was on the phone and clearly angry, his fists clenched and white as his knuckles strained against his vice grip. That much anger in one person scared him, made him wonder what had happened that had made him so hard. The man vanished when he hung the phone up, disappearing into the masses, and he suddenly had a sinking feeling that he would be hearing a story about a dead body found in the gutters sometime soon.
But that wasn't his first thought. His first thought was her, she who was still standing in the center of bright lights and cameras. The flashes made her look paler than she was, which was sheet white, and her eyes were blank, lost. They screamed at her, the horrible pops of bulbs and sirens making her frantic. He could see her desperation, the fear in her eyes more clear now that she was being assaulted by words rather than by a weapon. They thrusted things at her and she flinched in response; the police tried to help her, but the looks on their faces told him that they could care less. She looked like a circus animal being prodded in its cage, and he just couldn't take it. No one, not even Thea Queen deserved that much torture.
He sprinted down the alley and fought through the crowd that was clawing at the chance to see the latest Thea Queen scandal, to catch their favorite attraction do some tricks. He was sickened by their questions, the ones that they pelted her with repeatedly, like a broken record he wanted so badly to break. It's as if they didn't even care that she could've been harmed, that she was probably already upset beyond compare. He parted the mob with all his energy. The police shoved him back; the media fought with him for the best view, but as soon as he saw her with those lost eyes searching for something to grab onto, he called out to her.
She heard his voice through the haze, never so happy to see someone in her entire life. She reached out for his outstretched arm like a lifeline, and she clung to it as he pulled her away from this horror show.
"Let's get out of here," he said, taking hold of her and guiding her back into some form of sanity, not caring who saw them or what they said about him. She had nodded, gone with him, and that was all that mattered. She nudged herself under his arm so that it laid across her shoulder, and buried herself into his side. She stuck to him like glue, but he didn't mind.
The media tried to follow them, though it became abundantly clear that they would not follow the farther away from the business district they travelled. He wasn't really sure where he was taking her, or where he was supposed to take her. All he knew was that she was there and breathing and that was all that mattered. She didn't voice any complaints or thanks. Nothing at all. He wasn't even sure if she could speak at the moment. He wouldn't press her.
He took her home, not to hers but back to his. His mother wasn't home; she was never home, and so he figured it would be an okay place to hide out for a while, not that he had experience in taking distraught girls places. She didn't say anything about it. She just followed him through the old screen door and leaned against a wall adjacent to the doorway, hands crossed over her chest as if they would protect her from something. It took him a minute after he had removed his jacket, but he realized she was shaking. He moved to change the thermostat, thinking that could help if his mom actually paid the bills this time.
"Are you cold?" he asked, not knowing really what to say, if there really was anything appropriate to say.
She shook her head jerkily, her usually perfect hair lying sort of flat from his hold on her. "I'm fine…" she glanced around the house a little, and he watched her with cautious interest. "Nice house…"
He snorted and moved into the kitchen, or what was constituted as a kitchen, if a broken stove with a decrepit microwave and yellowed fridge really counted. This probably was a dump compared to her stone mansion, and he laughed some more. "Yeah right. I know this isn't the Ritz or anything, but it's home."
It took him a moment to realize that she hadn't moved, that she was still stationed like a statue in the doorway, and he wondered for a split second if he had upset her. Now, this was concerning. She never missed the chance to fire back at one of his insults. He tried again, this time a little more formally.
"Do you want anything to eat?" He motioned to the fridge, but she barely acknowledged it.
"No. No thanks…"
There was more silence, awkward silence where she stared off into the distance and he desperately wished that he was better at this. He was frustrating himself, and if he kept it up he was going to explode. If only he could be inside her head, then maybe he would know what to say, what the right thing to do was. This was not a good idea. What was he thinking in bringing her here? All she was thinking right now was probably that he was just some poor jerk from the Glades that was trying to kidnap her or something.
He was cursing profanely inside his head, and was about to offer to take her home, when suddenly, she moved. It was a slow process, something that seemed to take eons, but she made her way down the hall, past the kitchen, staring at all the photos that hung on the walls. He followed a few feet behind her, trying to be as quiet as possible. She ran her fingers across the faded blue paint as her eyes took in the photos, images of happy days when he actually had a family. He had tried his best to ignore the wall, to wash away those memories. They only hurt him now. One photo he had actually almost forgotten was of him at the beach. He had to have been no more than five years old, too tiny to remember much about that trip, his father and mother tossing him up in the air as sand went flying. His smile was so huge, and so were theirs. She smiled at his past smile too, a tentative thing that soon faded. She passed on, walking to the very end of the hall, stopping right before the door that led to his room.
He didn't know why he opened the door to let her in, but he did, the old appendage squeaking open. He knew it needed grease, but he had never gotten around to it, and now the hideous sound made him flinch in annoyance. She didn't seem to mind though, and went around his room just like she had the walls, running her hand across the beige paint, across the rock posters and scratches made from various things he had thrown in anger. His room wasn't that big, or very clean to be honest, and now he was a little embarrassed that she was in there seeing it like this.
But it was more than that. It was like she was seeing more of him than he was used to, and that made him nervous, uncomfortable even. It was unnerving, her unwavering face, the way she took everything in with all-seeing eyes. Her silence made him anxious, and he was finding that, against his will, he wanted his room to please her. Why the opinion of this girl mattered so much to him, he wasn't sure, but he hated how it was making him feel, and he let out a malcontented sigh. He didn't realize then that it would startle her.
"I'm sorry…" she trailed, removing her hand from the wall and replacing it at her side.
"No, it's fine," he was quick to reply, assuring her that she was okay. She nodded tersely, but she didn't return to the wall. She just stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wandering listlessly. He felt as if he had to say something, like it was his turn to try. "I'm sorry it's such a mess. I wasn't expecting-"
"I like it," she blurted plainly, her eyes boring holes straight into his. It was the first time all day that she had shown some part of her old confidence. He let out a stressed sigh, containing something he supposed was supposed to be a laugh. Oh God, this was all wrong. But something about the way she was moving made it okay, like she was fine with the jumble that was his life. It made him relax a little.
"Really?" he asked with more of humor and sarcasm than he thought he had placed in it. "It's not too plain for your taste?"
She huffed a little, a small smile remaining in its place. She didn't say anything; she just moved over to the wall where his Green Day poster was hanging, the edges curling with age, and traced the figure of the guitarist absentmindedly. She turned from the poster and back at him a bit, not really looking up to face him. "No. It's real."
"Excuse me?"
He was confused and not quite sure how to respond, but he didn't have to say any more before she let out a shaky breath, a laugh mixed in as she slid down the wall to his faded, worn carpet. She rested her elbows on her knees and ran her hands across her face, like she was trying to pull her worries away.
"We're the same you know. It's funny cuz I didn't realize it before, but now…now I see it clear as day," her face took on a sadness he couldn't comprehend, but he couldn't help but refute her. He almost scoffed at her idea that they were anywhere near the same class of people.
"We're nothing alike. There's not one thing we have in common. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have all the money in the world; I can't do whatever I want or go wherever I want like you can. I'm trapped here."
"But I can't either. I'm trapped too," she sighed. Her voice quavered just a bit, but she didn't rise to meet his gaze. She was focused bitterly on the floor. "You think that money gives you freedom, but it doesn't. It doesn't let you escape, it only ties you down with rules and obligations and a million other expectations. You can't just do what you want. You can't be normal, because the first time you try they're out there, ready to document your every move, criticizing you because it's fun. I have no privacy. As soon as I mess up, they're ready to tell it to the whole damn world, screaming it from rooftops, fighting to see who can tear me down the farthest."
She stopped to take a breath, her voice shaking badly, though he could tell she was fighting her hardest not to cry. He was startled, how raw she was, how exposed she let herself become which was so much deeper than the kind of exposed he was worried about becoming himself. He was worried about a room, but here she was, venting everything to him. He felt like he was trespassing on her most private thoughts, but she didn't stop. She just kept on going.
"And God, they make so much noise. Always asking questions, throwing accusations, making things up just because they can. There is so much noise, and it just builds. Nothing is ever lost, nothing is every buried in the past; every little thing is kept to fuel the fire. And there's no end. It never stops. And so you get loud; you scream so you can stand out for once, so that maybe they'll actually listen to you. But they never do, and even if they get a bit of what you say, they don't care. You're defined by who everyone else says you are, by your flaws and mistakes. And the sad part is when you start to believe the rumors, the lies they've made about you," she looked disgusted, her voice rising in anger, but still he stood across the room, listening, not interrupting. This was much more than just a thug with a gun now. "I've never gotten the chance to be me. I've been Thea Queen, spoiled party girl, following so proudly in the footsteps of her wild brother because that's what I'm supposed to be. I am the girl who lost her family, I am the girl who does all the wrong things, who parties too much and crashes expensive cars. I am everything except me," It almost feels like she shouts the last line, but he can't tell. Her whole body has been tense, but now it reclined a little, and her tone softened.
"You know, I was a quiet kid. I liked to read books and play games, but no one cares about that. No one wants a goody-two shoes on the cover of a tabloid. So I tried to run from them; God, I tried so hard, but they chased me. And they never stop. And after a while I realized that there is no escape; no amount of drugs or fast cars can outrun their words," she stopped for a moment, as if what she wanted to say next was harder than the rest. "You know I actually thought when that crazy guy was waving that gun around, if anyone would miss me if I got shot. If I died would they really care, or would they just pretend to be sad? But honestly, I don't even think anyone would notice. Sure, they'd grieve for a month, but after that I'd just be gone. I'd be another story, another picture on the wall, just like my father."
She finally let out a deep breath and slumped against the wall. She looked tired, defeated, and not at all like the girl whose purse he'd stolen just a few weeks prior. He moved to sit next to her, though he kept the space, not quite sure how close she wanted him to be. He was dealing with a whole new person now, and he didn't know what this new Thea would say nor do next…not that that was any different from the previous her.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, no hint of anything in his voice. In fact, he was relatively quiet.
"Because I was living in hell. I was so…lost that I didn't know which way was up. But then I met you, and you just…cut across the void, so strong and so clear that it shocked me. You were the first person who actually talked to me like a human being, who fought back, who actually didn't care about what they said around me or whether or not I was offended. And at first I wasn't used to it; I hated it. I hated the fact that you didn't care about me; I was jealous of it. And slowly, you became all I could think about, how lucky you were that you could live a life that I'd never have."
She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. He sat patiently, quietly, still not sure how to react. Even with the addition of her speech, there was so much left unspoken between them, so much he wish he could say. It was magnetic, their affinity for each other, and it scared him senseless.
"I don't have a life. I wish I had yours," he was able to mutter through a dry throat. "Trust me, there's nothing here to envy."
"There's everything," she replied, and finally a tear fell. "You have no idea how much."
His face contorted into concern, and he brushed the drop away from her cheek, making sure not to graze her pale cheeks with his calloused thumb. He didn't like the sight of her crying. He didn't want her to do it again.
"You're right, I don't," he sighed, and she leaned against him. "I don't understand how you could see so much bad in your life when you literally have everything. And to be honest, I think you are completely insane. Everyone here would kill to have your life."
"And I don't understand why you would still say you want my life after all this," she replied, acting more like her old self. "And, like I said, I don't have everything. There are plenty of things I wish I had, like actual parents who actually care."
"Well, join the club," he allowed himself a dark chuckle, one that she could feel the vibrations from through his chest. Though he tried his best not to be, he was warm, and safe, and quiet. He, this rough and troubled boy, was her sanctuary, but she'd never tell him.
"And I never said I was smart…" he continued dryly. "Besides, I could take on all those monkeys in suits," he joked, trying to cheer her, but even he was feeling down now.
"Hmmm…" she sighed into his chest. He didn't know what she meant by that, but he didn't care. Having her close was good enough for him. The sheer fact that they were actually getting along for this long was a miracle itself.
"You saved my life you know," she murmured softly, so softly that he almost missed it.
"That was all your brother, I didn't do anything really…"
"Not that. You saved me when I was fading," she stared at their entwined hands, studying them. "I was dead for so long, and this is going to sound so stupid, but you made me feel...real again. Thank you."
"It's not stupid..." he responded, because what else was he supposed to say? There was no right answer, no guidelines for this kind of situation. Never, not even in his wildest imagination, did he see himself the savior to anyone, none the less Thea Queen. There were so many things screwed up with them, so many differences and complications. Of course he'd have to fall for the most difficult girl imaginable, because God forbid that anything in his life be easy. But, he knew he couldn't hide from her; he couldn't lie to her. She was too important to him now, as crazy as that was.
"You saved me too you know," he sighed, finally breaking the silence left from her last bombshell.
She shifted a little, a pensive look on her face. "You got stabbed so I took you to the hospital. Anyone would've done that."
"Not anyone," he said with dead seriousness. "No one had ever cared about me like that. Not my parents or my friends. No one. All my life I had been alone, no one to call on or go to, and then you show up everywhere, and it's like you're always trying to help me. So I pushed you away because I didn't want to trust you, because I was taught that everyone who was nice to me only wanted something from me. Everything came at a price. But that was wrong. I was wrong…about you. And I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she said sincerely, "I'm sure if I was you, I would've done the same thing."
There was another silence, but this one wasn't as awkward. Sure, there was tension, but both of them felt like they could breathe again. She sat against him, his head resting on top of her hair. It was soft, just as soft as it looked. She was comfortable and warm and he realized that for the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy. But there was something he needed to clear first before he could rest, something that he had been thinking about for a while now.
"Can I ask you a question about that day?"
"Sure,"
"Why did you…kiss me? In the hospital when I was going to get the shot?"
She shifted a little, and from the change in her posture he could tell that she was caught off guard. He was sure that her face was doing that uncertain look that she got whenever she didn't know what to say, eyebrows drawn, clouding her eyes.
"Well, you were freaking out and I thought it would be a pretty good distraction. I seem to remember it worked."
"Oh," He replied, kind of let down, but he sensed there was more to it than that. "Was that the only reason?"
"Does it matter?" she asked, flustered and reluctant, but she seemed to know its importance to him. "Well, I guess I, um, wanted to. I just wanted to know…what it would be like if I…kissed, you…"
He could feel her heart beat racing, and he was sure that she could feel his that had, against his will, started to drum in his chest.
"And?" he dared to ask.
"It was nice," she smiled, grinning with a slight blush on her face. "Really nice…"
She turned her head to face him, and found that they weren't very far apart at all. Their faces were inches apart, so close that their foreheads could touch and she could see that his eyes weren't just blue, that around the pupil were the tiniest flecks of gold. She swore she couldn't breathe.
"And what about now?" he breathed heavily, eyes trained on hers, only allowing a glimpse at her lips. The tension was so thick he could feel it, and in that moment, he realized that anything could happen, and his heart started beating even harder he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.
And in the next second, without response or warning, Thea had closed the gap between them. Her lips met his with intensity, something he returned this time. Her lips were just as soft as the rest of her and sweet from her lip-gloss and his, though rough, were just as compelling. She held onto his shoulders and he fisted a handful of her hair, both needing some kind of anchor to keep them grounded as they moved. The kiss was intoxicating, unreal, making both of their heads spin. They were dizzy for air, but they couldn't part until they were sure they would die from oxygen starvation.
When they broke, she still held onto him, her fingers curled into his shirt. They had both dropped their heads, foreheads connected and pounding, gasping for breath. Thea's mind was reeling. She had never been kissed like that, never even thought she could feel like that, and she laughed at her situation. He looked up at her conflicted, thinking that she was laughing at him, but she ran a hand over his cheek and laughed more. There was no way this was real. Nothing in their lives ever went right, so why was this so compelling, so absolutely perfect?
"I never thought…in a million years that-" she couldn't even finish the thought.
"Yeah," he breathed in agreement, not even needing to know what she was going to say. He could get the point of it anyway.
The way she was looking at him with complete wonder and awe had to mimic his own expression. He was astonished, completely floored that he could actually care for someone else, especially an infamous uptown girl by the name of Thea Queen. They were so different, so much opposite that to anyone including themselves, it seemed wrong for them to be together. Their whole dynamic was upside down. She was supposed to date billionaires and he was supposed to stick with his own people in the Glades, but there they were, clashing every single social norm and rule ever created. It was almost a rush to know they were practically defying nature, and they didn't care; screw the concequences.
"I think I am in love with you Roy Harper," she said, rendering him speechless. Of course part of him already knew that, and part of him was thrilled, but most of him was scared shitless of the fact that someone could actually be close to him. And what scared him more was that he wanted to be close to her too.
His mouth was floundering, trying to grope for words and fight the overwhelming urge to run as fast as he could just like he did with everything else, but just as soon as he thought he had plucked up the courage to tell her, her phone sounded. The ringtone infiltrated the quiet place, shattering the precarious relationship they had built there. And just like that, whatever he had felt between them faded away, lost in the intrusion of the outside world. She pulled away from him and checked the caller ID, snorted at the name, and then put her phone away. She looked peeved as she turned to him again, and she did not say a word. The tension had returned, and not in a good way.
"Who was it?" he asked, more of his usual coldness returning. He didn't mean to, but he was miffed at the fact that whoever had called had ruined the one happy moment in his life as of recently.
"My mother…" she sighed, rolling her eyes, more anger in them than before. "She must've gotten word of what'd happened, wanted to see if I was okay, like it didn't happen hours ago."
She quickly got up to her feet, straightening out her jacket and running her fingers through her hair. He was still sitting on the floor, studying her. She looked annoyed and impatient now. He knew from her expression that she wanted to leave, but he was angered by the fact that she would just get up and go like this, like nothing had happened. Was she just using him for the moment? Did she care about any of it?
"You're going," he asked blankly, more of a statement than a question. He didn't want to let her know he was hurt, and put his mask of apathy back on.
"Yeah. God forbid I keep my mother waiting any longer. Like she cares…" Thea huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets of her black peacoat. She made it a point to look everywhere except at him.
"Yeah…" he said with a bite, getting up, brushing past her, and leading her out of his room, back through the hallway, and to the front door. How stupid he was to think that he could mean anything to this girl, this uppity rich girl who probably thought she was ten steps above him! He didn't mean anything. He never means anything to them, and now he made himself look like a fool. He never should've trusted her.
She walked out the door with her head down, and he was about to shut the screen behind her without another word, when she reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to her and into a kiss. And in that one moment, he forgot all the reasons why he was mad, why he was hurt. All the walls that were coming back up were knocked right back down again. His anger dissipated. There was too much there between them to just be fake.
She pulled away, and he could see in her eyes that she didn't want to go. "I meant it. Every word."
And that was all he needed to hear. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, never wanting to let her go. He knew she was too close, that this was dangerous for him. Emotions were never his friend, and his trust in people was almost nonexistent, but she was different. She was changing him. She was pulling him from the darkness like he was pulling her from the white. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were the same. And then, he knew he could say it. There was nothing stopping him.
"I think I am in love with you too, Thea Queen."
It was a weight off his chest, and now he felt free, like flying. He could feel her smiling against his chest and for the first time, he actually allowed himself a real smile. It wasn't wide or grand or something that lit up the whole room. It didn't stop time or take her breath away. It simply showed in his eyes, but she swore it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen.
They stayed that way, together on the porch in the freezing cold of winter, but they didn't care. She would drive her mother crazy with worry because she didn't rush home, but they didn't care. All that had happened before, all the bad things that had brought them there that afternoon were forgotten. They didn't know where to go from there or what the future would bring for them, but nothing existed outside of that one moment. They didn't matter anyway; the world could stand to wait for a few more hours. And then the snowflakes fell, first on their heads, then on her eyelashes and everywhere else. She laughed and he smiled because she did. She twirled in the powder, catching the crystals with her tongue, and for the first time since he was a kid, he actually had fun playing in the snow.
Never had it felt so good to fade into white.