Hey guys! So this has been my little pet project for the past couple of days, my place to invest all my extreme feelings over Violate finally being back together. Might end up expanding this, or writing some other Violate stuff, so let me know if you want to see more!
WARNING – This fic is rated M for a reason. Sexual content ahead.
Torture.
That's what it had been, living for seven years in a house with the boy she hated with every breathe she took and loved with every beat of her heart. She tried to bleach her mind clean of his messy blonde fringe and the way it curtained heart-stopping brown eyes, to forget about his lopsided grin made up of equal parts smugness and insecurity. She'd tried not to think about how safe she'd felt in his arms as he held her that fateful night in the bathtub, nursing her as she was released from life, or the time they'd made love and she felt things she never knew she was capable of feeling.
But now she didn't have too. Now she stood, face to face with him, seeing those coffee coloured eyes up close, feeling the blonde mop tickle her nose as he pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her in. It was indescribable, the end of the fight, finally letting herself give in. Quitting Tate had been harder than the one time she tried to quit cigarettes, and lasted a total of three hours. Nicotine cravings had nothing on Tate Langdon withdrawals.
''What did they do?'' Tate asked, slowly snaking his hand around the back of Violet's waist. Violet could sense the tentativeness, the reluctance to make any move too bold in case she ran off again. ''The witches. What spell did they put you under to make you talk to me again?''
After seven years of refusing eye contact with him, Violet couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from Tate's. Still, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Madison and Behold strolling down the front lawn and climbing into their car. Her insides bubbled when she realised what this meant – the witches were leaving the house, and as far as she knew, they didn't intend to come back, but they still owned the property. And as long as they did, no one else could move it. They could finally live in peace, without any disruptive mortals who would inevitably succumb to the house's evil and join the rest of the ghosts as eternal residents. Thank god. This place was far too crowded as it was.
''They only showed me the truth.'' Violet whispered. ''I never knew what you did for my mum. Why didn't you tell me?''
''You wouldn't speak to me.'' Tate chuckled. ''Besides, I didn't want you to think it was some kind of scheme to win you back. I saved your mum because she's a good person. She didn't deserve to go to Hell. I mean, this place sucks ass, but you're here. Ben's here. Her baby's here. It can't be as bad as actual Hell, surely.''
''Not anymore.'' Violet smiled, and Tate did too. Her happiness was infectious. He leaned in subconsciously, longing for the taste of her, but right before their lips touched she ducked away. Tate couldn't remember the last time he'd felt properly embarrassed, but his cheeks began to flush.
''Sorry.'' He murmured. ''I just thought-''
''I still have questions.'' She admitted, and Tate nodded solemnly. ''I want this, Tate. So badly. I want to be with you, but there are still things I'm not sure about.''
''So then let's talk.'' Tate said. He wasn't going to let her slip through his fingers, not this time. He'd tell her whatever she wanted to know, with complete honesty and submission. He'd bear every part of himself to her, and only hope that he was still enough.
''Okay.'' Violet nodded, sucking in her bottom lip and trying not to linger over how much she'd rather be sucking on Tate's. ''You wanna come upstairs?''
''Like, in your room?'' Tate's eyes widened. He hadn't been allowed in Violet's room since the night she told him to go away. After Constance died and became a permanent part of the house, she would tell him not to let Violet walk over him. It was his room first, she would say, and Violet had no right to tell him to stay out of it. But Tate had hurt Violet in so many ways, and on top of that he'd always blamed himself for not saving her that night, thought of himself as the reason she was a ghost in the first place. The least he could do was let her keep the room, and respect her wishes for him to stay out of it.
''Yeah.'' Violet said, threading her fingers through his. ''Like, in my room.''
The whir of the ceiling fan set as the background music as Violet and Tate laid side by side on her bedspread, propped on their sides, absorbing the details of one another they'd been estranged from for too long.
''Why did you shoot your school up?'' Violet asked. She figured after seven years of solitude, there was no point beating around the bush. ''What did those kids do to deserve it?''
''Nothing.'' Tate shook his head. ''That was why I did it.''
He sighed in response to Violet's puzzled face.
''It's really hard to explain, Vi.'' He said. ''Especially because I don't really understand it myself. This house did things to me. I lived in this house when I was a little boy, and then I moved away, and then I came back when Constance and Larry got together. I was different when I was away. I was sad and lonely. I missed my dad and cried over him a lot. Rose too. I was so little when my sister died, I hardly knew her, but I still cried over her. I was heartbroken Rose had died before I got the chance to love her. I would always try and cheer Addie and Beau up when Constance was horrible to them, because I felt bad for them. But in this house, it was like all that sorrow that was inside of me was somehow turned into blinding rage.''
Tate dared to steal a glance at Violet. She was listening attentively, and it didn't seem like she was planning to run just yet, so he continued.
''Suddenly I was just angry at everything. Angry at my dad for leaving me and at my mum for letting Rose die when she was so little and at Larry for trying to be my father. But it wasn't just normal teen angsty anger. It was like, the most intense thing I've ever felt. It was terrifying, Vi, and it was only a part of me when I was in this house. At school I was back to that shy, sad kid that sat alone and read a lot of books. But in this house… in this house all I could think about was every reason I had to hate the world. I stopped cheering Addie and Beau up and started ripping my mum to shreds whenever she dared to speak badly to them. I would lull myself off to sleep with thoughts of burning this whole fucking house down with Larry and my mum still inside. I was so scared of the thoughts inside my own head, Violet, and the only way I could keep them away was by staying out of the house.''
He paused to take a breath, letting his eyes close as the memories flickered over him.
''I would stay out for days at a time. Partying, doing drugs, hooking up with random girls who'd let me crash at their place, anything I could not to go home. Because as soon as I was in this house, I changed. I became this horrible, angry, scary person. Ever since Nora saved me from the Infantata when I was six, I knew this wasn't a normal house, and I didn't know what it would be capable of if I let it get a hold of me.''
There was sniffle, and Tate flicked his eyes up to see the tears flowing down Violet's face. He reached out for her, but she gave a subtle shake of her head and he withdrew.
''I'm fine.'' She snuffled. ''Keep going.''
''The night Beau died, the house saw its' chance, I guess. I knew Larry killed him. I'm not stupid. I knew why, too. Constance never wanted him. He was a stain on her perfect life, but having it known that she had a child removed from her care for neglect was an even bigger stain. She'd rather him dead than be known as the mother who had to have a kid taken away, without question. That's something anyone would be angry about, and the house used that. It propelled that anger into something demonic, and it convinced me that everyone in the world was better off dead. Nobody should have to live in a life where your mum's boyfriend can kill your little brother and get away with it.''
Tate blinked hard, trying not cry himself, because that would only upset Violet even more.
''I'm not blaming the house.'' He said. ''I know I was the one that loaded that gun and ended those lives. I know. But you have to believe me, Violet, I didn't mean too, and I'll never really know why I did it. I swear to you, this house, it played a part.''
''I believe you.'' Violet croaked out. It was barely above a whisper, all she could manage without completely falling apart, but it was enough for Tate.
''Thank you.'' Tate's voice cracked, and he lost the battle against the tears in his own eyes. ''What else? What else do you want to know? I'll tell you everything, Vi. No more secrets.''
''Chad and Patrick.'' Violet said softly. She didn't elaborate, but Tate knew.
''Nora didn't let me see her again until years after I died.'' Tate sighed. ''She's one of the more easily confused souls, Nora is. She forgets she's dead and that her baby's a monstrous freak that terrorizes the basement. She didn't remember me, and that made me angry, too. She was like a second babysitter to me when I was little.''
''A second babysitter?'' Violet cocked her head in confusion. ''Who was the first?''
''Moira raised me a lot more than Constance ever did.'' Tate smiled meekly. ''Up until I was six and Constance put a bullet in her face, of course.''
''Of course.'' It was wrong, but Violet couldn't help the laugh that escaped her.
''So, it drove me mad that she didn't remember who I was. It felt like being neglected by my real mum all over again. And I felt that horrid anger starting up again, and then I thought maybe if I could get Nora to remember me, the anger would go away. I decided the easiest way to do that would be to bring her a baby. She'd love me for that, and then she'd remember that she loved me when I was little, too.''
Violet nodded in confirmation that she'd heard enough. She didn't need to ask the next question on her tongue, which was why Tate had violated her mother, because he'd answered that in the same breath. He killed the couple who decided not to adopt, then raped the new lady of the house, all in desperation to get a baby for Nora.
''Anything else?'' Tate asked wearily.
''Just one more thing. If the house was using you as a vessel for it's evil, why did it need Michael?''
That should have been the hardest question of all, and yet the answer came so easily.
''Because of you.''
''I don't understand.''
''You messed everything up, Vi.'' Tate grinned sheepishly. ''I told you. You're the only light I've ever known. You reached something in me that even the house was powerless against. You dragged me out of the hold this house had on me. So, it had to find a new strategy.''
''Some strategy.'' Violet groaned. ''Creating the anti-Christ.''
''In the house's defence, I probably helped.'' Tate admitted. ''I can't imagine the offspring of the dead and the living was ever going to turn out well.''
''I suppose not, but sending the end of the world in the form of my brother was a bit extreme.''
''You really think Michael's the end of the world?''
''I don't know.'' Violet said, finally moving closer to Tate on the bed. Tate held his breath in anticipation for the moment she would finally touch him. When she laid her hand across his chest, his whole body narrowed, and no feeling mattered except that one spot that her fingertips graced. ''But if he is, that probably means it's finally end for us too. We're not going to be able to live out the afterlife in this house, and I doubt either of us will clear Heaven. Might as well make the most of it.''
And then her lips were on his, and Tate could feel the poison of the last seven years in the house being leeched from his body. If the apocalypse were to come right at that very moment, he'd surrender and be dragged to Hell willingly, knowing his last moments were on this bed in Violet's arms, with the ashy taste of her lips lingering in his mouth.
In death, Violet hardly ever changed her clothes. She'd pull on a long skirt and a shapeless top to hide her shameful body and leave it on for weeks. It was only when she'd become particularly sick of her reflection that she'd decide to switch things up.
Violet flipped through her wardrobe as Tate sat on the bed, watching her. She'd been in the same orange sweater and baggy beige skirt for over a month now, and it was time for something new. Something special, to commemorate the first good thing that had happened since she'd died – Tate had come back to her. Or she'd come back to him. Either way, he was hers once more.
''I like that one.'' Tate piped up.
''Which one?'' Violet looked over her shoulder.
Tate pulled himself off the bed and came up to stand next to her in the open doors of her closest. His fingers found the silky black of a short dress, with a deep plummet in the chest area.
''I never wear that.'' Violet said quickly, shoving it aside. ''It was a gift from an aunty who has no idea what my style's like.''
''Why wouldn't you wear it?'' Tate asked. ''I think it'd look gorgeous on you.''
''My body's totally wrong for it.'' Violet groaned. ''All of my arms and legs and their ugly gross cuts would be on display. And I don't have one tenth of the tits needed to fill it out.''
She moved over to the mirror and did one of her lest favourite things – looking closely at herself.
''I would have gotten a boob job if I didn't die.'' She mumbled. ''Being a part of the itty bitty titty committee has it's perks, but I'll never get to know what it's like to have a chest guys fall over themselves for.''
''Vi, I fall over myself for you every single day.'' Tate snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. ''I think you're absolutely beautiful. And sexy. And I'd give my right arm to see you in a dress like that. So, are you going to put it on for me, or am I going to make you?''
Violet couldn't help the giggles that escaped her. She hated it when she giggled – she sounded like an annoying eighth grader. But it felt so good, to get back to the playfulness with Tate that she had missed so dearly. If this was what eternity was to be, maybe she could handle it after all.
''Make me, huh?'' She teased, licking her lips. ''How exactly would you do that?''
''Well first...'' Tate begun, before sliding the neckline of her sweatshirt down. Exposing the slenderness of her collarbones, he placed loving kisses with just a hint of a bite along them, and Violet let out a whimper. ''I'd distract you.''
He worked his way up her neck, across her jawbone, and finally, to her mouth. She opened her lips to let him in, and his tongue found hers in a dance they'd mastered along time ago. Working against each other enough to make the fight for dominance clear, working together enough to establish neither of them really cared who won.
''Then…'' He murmured against her mouth, as he played with the hem of her sweater. ''I'd take this awful sweatshirt off of you.''
''What makes it awful?'' Violet pretended to be offended.
''I can't see enough of you when you're in it.''
Tate had managed to ride the shirt halfway up Violet's stomach, and was just about to pull it over her head, when an obnoxious gasp broke the pair apart.
The spun around to find Constance standing in the doorway, a dumbfounded look on her face. Violet rolled her eyes, and Tate let out sustained groan.
''Seriously, mum?"' He cried. ''Just because you don't have to knock, doesn't mean it's not polite too.''
''Your sister wants you to join us for a tea party.'' Constance's scowl deepened. ''I've been looking everywhere for you.''
''Well, you found me.'' Tate spat back. ''Tell Rose I'll play with her later. I'm busy.''
''Clearly.'' The frown-lines in Constance's face settled harshly into her skin. ''What exactly is going on here?''
''We're baking a fucking cake, Constance.'' Violet muttered, focusing her attention back into sifting through her clothes. ''What does it look like is going on here?''
''Now you listen her, child.'' Constance waved an accusing finger at Violet, who continued to ignore her. ''You broke my little boy's heart once before. I'll be damned if I let you do it again.''
''Stay out of it, mama.'' Tate warned.
''You're weak, Tate.'' Constance said. ''It's not your fault, but strength is a quality you were born without. I always knew you were drawn to Violet because she has the will you lack. But you can't run back to her like a puppy when she whistles for you. She'll crush you now like she did before.''
''Violet saved me, Constance!'' Tate screamed. The volume in his tone was unexpected, and Violet flinched. ''She saved me from this fucking house, and from you, and from all the other fucked up things I was before her. And I love her, mum.''
Violet placed a hand to her head, like this was all giving her a migraine.
Constance looked between the children, her mind ticking over. Finally, she let out an over-exaggerated sigh, and cupped Violet's chin.
''Let go of her!'' Tate immediately rose to the defence.
''Tate, it's okay.'' Violet held up a hand.
''Do you love my boy again?" Constance narrowed her eyes. ''Tell me the truth.''
''The truth.'' Violet swallowed. ''Is that your son was the first person I ever loved. But the things he did scared me. He did terrible, awful things, and I couldn't be with someone like that. I'm only just now realising that maybe that was never the real him. When he's with me, I think that's the real him.''
''She's right, mama.'' Tate was almost pleading at this point. ''Mum, she's the only person that still knows how to reach me. The house, it can't affect me when I'm with her.''
''Quiet, you!" Constance hissed. Turning her attention back to Violet, she said ''that's not what I asked. I asked if you love him again.''
Violet snuck a glance at Tate, and felt her vision become glossy with unshed tears.
''No.'' She said. ''I don't. Because to say that I love him again would imply that I ever stopped.''
Tate crept into the bathroom, the sound of the door opening concealed under the rush of water hitting the tiles. After Constance had finally left them be, Violet had agreed to try on the dress for Tate, but only after he'd turned around. Forever a teenage boy, Tate couldn't help the rush that had coursed through his body with seeing the love of his life in such a provocative dress, but when they'd done nothing but make-out before she announced she needed a shower, he hadn't pushed it. He didn't know what stars had aligned to bring Violet back to him, but he wasn't going to take it for granted. They would go completely at her pace.
While she'd showered, he'd stolen the vase of ugly roses Constance insisted on keeping in the dining room and taken them up to the attic, where he'd dipped them all in a can of old black paint. Black roses, the unique gesture for the unique girl, the first flower he'd ever given her, the first flower she'd ever received from a boy.
He set about arranging the flowers on the sink basin, wanting them to be the first thing Violet saw when she got out. In a quick motion, the shower curtain drew back and Violet stuck her head out, startling Tate.
''Boo.'' She laughed.
''Boo, yourself.'' Tate chuckled back.
''Wow, from one black rose to a dozen, you've upped you game, Langdon.'' Violet teased.
''Do you like them?'' Tate knew he sounded needy and desperate for her approval, but the truth was, that's exactly what it was.
''I love them.'' Violet smiled. ''Also, you're a huge dork.''
Tate was beginning to feel the effects of knowing there was nothing but a shower curtain separating him from Violet's naked body and thought perhaps he'd still have time to scurry down to the basement and jerk off before she got out if he left now.
''Anyway, I'm gonna go-''
''Deal with the problem in your pants?'' Violet raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Tate's felt his cheeks fill with colour and cursed himself for it. Tate never blushed, and yet he'd blushed twice in one day over the same girl. What did she do to him?
''That obvious?'' He grinned.
''You can come join me in here, if you want.''
Tate's jaw hung limply. Words could not describe how badly he wanted to join Violet in the shower, but he was petrified that if things went to far she'd regret it, and realise she never wanted him back in the first place.
''I don't know…'' Tate rubbed his neck sheepishly.
''Fine, suit yourself.'' Violet hummed, letting the shower curtain drop back into place.
Who was he kidding?
Tate almost tripped out of his corduroy pants trying to get them off and yanked his green sweater over his head so roughly that it got momentarily stuck. He kicked his boxers off and slipped behind the shower curtain, joining Violet under the water.
Violet had her back to him and was running her hands through her caramel-blonde hair, pretending not to have heard him enter. He grabbed her and pulled her into him, pressing himself up against her and breathing in the scent of her vanilla shampoo.
''Hey there.'' She whispered.
''Hey.''
Violet spun around, and just like that they were making out again. He drove her up against the wall, finally allowing himself to give in to every aching want he'd had for her over the past seven years she'd spent shutting him out. He let his hands roam freely on her body, and she smirked as she felt him grow hard against her thigh.
''Violet.'' He gasped. ''I need to look at you.''
''What?'' She half asked, half groaned. ''Why?''
''Because you're naked, and wet, and I haven't seen your body in so long.'' Tate replied bluntly. Pulling back, he let his eyes wander, taking in every inch of her, every beautiful curve and dip that made her up, until she curtained his view with her arms.
''Sorry.'' He apologised instantly. ''I'm making you uncomfortable.''
''It's not you.'' Violet sighed. ''I told you, I hate my body.''
''You never said you hated your body.'' Tate felt physically sick at her words. ''I didn't realise you felt that badly about it.''
''Well I do.'' She muttered back. ''This is killing the mood. Let's just…''
She reattached their mouths, and as much as every fibre in Tate's body wanted just to file this conversation away as something to have later, he knew it had to be dealt with now.
''No.'' He said firmly. ''We need to talk about this. What do you hate about your body?''
''My boobs, or lack thereof. Same goes for my ass. I'm too skinny in general. Guys like girls with curves, and I have none. My whole fucking body's covered in cuts, my skin's plain and pasty, I'm too short-''
''Please stop.'' Tate couldn't bear to hear anymore. ''Vi, do you have any idea what you do to me?''
Violet shrugged, disinterested.
''The smell of your hair is my favourite scent in the world. I could sit for hours looking into your eyes without getting bored. You have the prettiest hands I've ever seen - your fingers are so slender, and your nails are always so perfect and sometimes I just sit and stare at them. You have supermodel legs. I mean it, they're so long and well-defined and the most beautiful legs I've ever seen. And there is nothing in the world more thrilling to me than the sight of you naked.''
As if to prove it, Tate took one of her beautiful hands and lowered it down between them, until it was pressed against his erection. Violet gasped sharply.
''I love you, Violet.'' Tate exhaled. ''And you can take as long as you want to say it back. I'm okay with that. But I'm not okay with you not loving your body. I know what you think other guys want, but fuck other guys. I want you. You're not everyone's definition of perfect, but everyone's definition of perfect is boring. You're my definition of perfect. And I love you.''
''You've said that a million times.'' Violet rolled her eyes.
''I love you.'' Tate repeated cheekily. ''Now it's a million and one.''
Violet snuck a glance downwards where her hand still rested.
''Should I take care of that?''
Ghosts could rarely feel their own heartbeat, but Tate's picked up instantly, and within seconds it was ponding against his ribcage.
''If you want too.'' He swallowed hard. ''I mean… you don't have too… but-''
Violet interrupted him, swallowing his words in kisses. She trailed her kisses downwards, over his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach and hipbones, until she was on her knees in front of him.
''Oh, Violet.'' Tate moaned. ''You really don't have to do that.''
Violet ignored him, and planted a kiss on the tip, which sent shivers up Tate's spine.
He'd received a handful of blowjobs in his life, but always from girls too drunk or too stoned to have any real coordination, and never from a girl he cared about. Never from a girl he thought about all day every day, whom in his most desperate hours he'd fantasied about doing exactly that, but never dared to believe it would actually happen.
As Violet took him into her mouth, Tate lost himself. His fingers reached for her hair, but even as he grabbed fistfuls of them, it wasn't enough. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he was worried in the moment he was going to pull too hard and hurt her.
Fumbling for something else, his hand found the shower curtain. He planted one hand firmly on the tiled wall and the other grasped the curtain, letting it slide back inch by inch as Violet continued, pushing Tate to breaking point.
''Vi.'' He huffed. ''I'm… I'm close… Vi, I'm-''
''Violet, are you in he - oh my god!''
A sudden screeching voice made Tate jump, as Violet fell backwards and scrambled to her feet. Standing with the door half open was Vivien, the colour emptying from her cheeks. Tate realised with horror that he'd pulled the curtain back far enough to give his girlfriend's mother a full view of her blowing him.
''Jesus, mum, what the fuck?!'' Violet screamed, yanking the curtain shut and leaving just her head exposed. ''What the fuck do you want?''
''I… I… I just…'' Vivien stammered. ''I was wondering if you wanted to read your brother a bedtime story. I… I thought you'd have the curtain pulled over so it wouldn't mater if I… oh god, I'm so sorry.''
''Just get out!'' Violet yelled, and Vivien obediently swung the door shut.
Several moments passed, as Tate and Violet starred back into each other's wild eyes, trying to regain the composure.
''This is the worst possible thing to say in a moment like this.'' Tate bit his lip. ''But I really need to finish.''
''Are you serious?'' Violet punched him in the arm.
''Yeah, I know, don't worry, I'll just do it myself.''
''Shut up.'' Violet quipped, before gripping Tate in her hand.
Tate's head lulled forward and he moaned into Violet's shoulder as she jerked him, until his body was convulsing and he was finishing on the inside of her thigh. Violet washed herself clean, feeling nauseous at the though of what was coming next.
''I gotta go talk to my mum.'' She said.
''Should I come?'' Tate asked.
''In absolutely no universe should you come.'' Violet replied. ''Just stay here. Or don't. I don't care, but definitely don't come.''
Tate couldn't resist. Leaning in so his lips were right against her ear, he whispered ''Bad news. I just did.''
Violet punched him in the arm again.
Violet found her mother in the master bedroom, folding up laundry. Violet had no idea why her mother continued to do pointless things like clean clothes and wash dishes when it meant nothing, but she guessed it was for the same reason Moira used to clean the house every day even when it was vacant. Some sense of purpose, a false idea of normalcy.
''Hey.'' Violet cooed, walking into the room. Vivien glanced up, then immediately looked away. ''You remember when I was like twelve and I walked in on you and dad having sex, and you told me there were certain ways mums and dads expressed their love for one another that children weren't supposed to see?''
Vivien chuckled under her breathe.
''I'll never forget, unfortunately.''
''Well, I think there are certain ways children express their love for their partners that mums and dads aren't supposed to see, either.''
Vivien laughed again, and then moved the washing to the side. She sat down on the bed, and patted the spot next to her. Violet definitely hadn't wanted this to be a drawn out ''sit down'' talk, but she didn't suppose there was any way around it.
''How long has that been going on?'' Vivien asked after a silence that lasted way too long to be comfortable.
''Me and Tate?'' Violet confirmed. Vivien nodded. ''Not long. Since the witches left, really.''
''The witches left this afternoon.'' Vivien looked confused.
''Yeah, exactly. Not long.''
''Why now, Vi?'' Vivien asked, stroking Violet's hair like she did when she was small.
''Are you mad?'' Violet looked up tentatively. On one hand, she knew it was her decision to make, but on the other hand, if Vivien still hated Tate for the way he violated her, she didn't know if taking him back was worth ruining her relationship with her mother over.
''No.'' Vivien said, with a sense of earnestness that surprised Violet. ''I'm not. I'm just wondering what changed your mind.''
''I think a lot of what Tate did wasn't him.'' Violet rested her head on her mother's shoulders. ''I know it sounds cray, but mum, I think the house made him do it.''
''It doesn't sound crazy.'' Vivien shook her head. ''I've thought the same thing for a long time. This house is alive, and it lives to destroy people.''
''You never told me what he did for you.'' Violet said. ''How he saved you, when Michael tried to have you sent to Hell.''
''I thought about telling you.'' Vivien sighed. ''But I didn't want to get inside your head. I always had this deep-rooted feeling like you and Tate would find your way back to one another, but it had to be something you wanted, all on your own. It couldn't be because of anything he did for me.''
Violet managed a smile.
''I love you, mum.''
''I love you too.''
''And I love him, as well.'' Violet blinked away tears. ''It's been so fucking hard, mum, keeping away from him. I don't know how I've made it this far.''
''Because you had no other choice.'' Vivien continued to gently toy with her daughter's hair. ''But now, you do.''
''So, you're really okay with this?''
''You mean more to me than anything in this world, Violet. You've lost so much already, your life being at the top of the list. If Tate makes you happy, then I'm really okay with it.''
''Thank you, mum.'' Violet stood, and let her mother kiss her on the forehead, before making her way out of the room.
''Oh, and mum?'' Violet looked over her shoulder, as Vivien returned to her meaningless laundry. ''I think Tate's going to move into my room with me, so-''
''No entering without knocking.'' Vivien smiled. ''Message received.''
Every few nights, the Harmons' had a game night.
They made a pact, to be a better family in the afterlife than they were when they were alive. It used to be rigorous, every Thursday night, but soon they realised keeping track of what day it was got too exhausting. Then Ben invited Michael into their home and Vivien hated him for it, and the game nights stopped for a while. Tonight, it had been Violet's idea to bring them back.
They sat on Violet's bedroom floor, a Monopoly board open between them, as Vivien carefully dealt out colourful money notes. The bedroom door opened and Tate sauntered in, almost tripping over the game before he looked up and realised what was happening.
''Oh, sorry.'' He apologised, backing out. ''I didn't realise you were all in here.''
''Tate.'' Ben's voice was cold and harsh. ''I thought we talked about this. You can't just harass my daughter until-''
''No, dad.'' Violet cut him off. ''It's not like that.''
Ben looked between Violet and Tate sceptically, and then at Vivien, who's face gave everything away.
''What's going on here?'' He demanded.
''Violet and I are talking again.'' Tate said softly.
''It's okay, Tate.'' Violet smiled comfortingly. ''You can tell him the truth.''
''I…. I, well…'' Tate looked lost. ''We've also kissed a bit. And last night in the shower-''
''Jesus Tate, not that bit!" Violet scolded. Vivien tried not to laugh. ''We're back together, dad. He's trying to say we're back together.''
''We are?'' Tate's eyes lit up. ''Like, for real?''
''For real, real.'' Violet was giggling again, reverting back to annoying eighth grader status, but she didn't care.
''And you knew about this?'' Ben looked at Vivien accusingly.
Vivien made eye contact with her daughter, and in a single look, Violet begged her mum not to tell her dad the details of how she'd found out.
''Violet told me last night.'' Vivien said, silently agreeing to keep her daughter's secret. ''I didn't tell you because it wasn't my place.''
''Are you… okay with this?'' Ben asked.
''I am.'' Vivien said easily. ''I think it's time we let bygones be bygones. No one in this house hasn't fucked up a good few times, and what's most important now is that we all find some way to be happy in the place we're stuck in forever. Tate makes her happy, Ben. That's all that matters to me.''
Tate blinked hard, swallowing the lump in his throat. When Vivien looked at him, he mouthed the words ''thank you''. It wasn't much, but it was plain to see how much Vivien's approval really meant to Tate.
''This'll… take some getting used too.'' Ben said gruffly.
''I understand, sir.'' Tate nodded. ''I'll leave you alone, now.''
''Wait, Tate!" Ben called, before Tate could completely disappear. ''Do you want to play Monopoly with us?''
''Really? Are you sure? I don't want to intrude on your family time.''
''You're not.'' Vivien said, and Violet patted the spot on the floor next to her. ''You're being invited to join in.''
''I've never been a part of a family game night before.'' Tate admitted, sitting down next to his girlfriend.
''That's because you've never been a part of real family.'' Violet said, handing Tate his share of fake money. ''But now you are.''
A single tear rolled down Tate's cheek, which Violet was quick to wipe away.
''I don't really know how to play.'' He admitted.
''That's okay. We can work together.''
''Really?''
''Yeah. Always.''
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