TITLE: sparks fly
FANDOM: House of Anubis
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Mara/Nina, suggested Nina/Fabian
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1,619
SUMMARY: drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain
WARNINGS: HEARTACHE AND PAIN AND FEELS
NOTES: I have a Greek mythology weakness when it comes to AUs, and if you don't get my Greek mythology references, look them up yourself. Also, this ship is entirely Shruti's fault.
The girl with flowers in her hair seems so familiar, yet she can't possibly be. They can't possibly have met before, green eyes to brown, awkward clusters of hands and lives and boarding schools. No, she is too unique. Mara is sure she would recognize her, had they met before. And yet, she seems so strangely familiar.
Mara doesn't believe in fairy tales or fate or alternative universes; Mara believes in books and technicalities and logic. Mara believes that things make sense, that she has not seen this girl in a past life, that she has not memorized the curve and crevices of this stranger's heart, of her hands, of her hips. No, there is no possible way she has met this girl before. Still, the nagging longing in her stomach tells her, quite persistently, to go up to the girl and ask her for her name. Gathering her courage, she tucks a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and walks over to the girl sitting alone in the window of this coffee shop.
She clears her throat, and the girl looks up at her, green eyes meeting brown, and in one fell swoop, the intense familiarity of her gaze nearly knocks Mara off her feet. "I, um, I like those… f-flowers in your hair," Mara stammers, and the girl smiles, her green eyes twinkling.
"Well, thanks. Have we met before? I feel like I know you." The girl's voice, bold American accent and all, is just as eerily familiar as the rest of her, and Mara wonders if she notices how much she's struggling to maintain her composure.
Mara shakes her head. "I feel like I know you, too, but I swear I've never met you before." Now that she knows the feeling of familiarity is mutual, she is able to relax, but only slightly.
"Well, why don't you sit down?" The girl offers, motioning to the empty seat across from her. "My name is Nina. What's yours?"
Mara sits, fumbling with her purse, and sets it on the ground next to her chair. "Mara," she replies, her British accent prominent. "My name is Mara."
Nina grins. "It's nice to meet you, Mara." The pair falls into easy conversation, the butterflies in Mara's stomach only intensifying with every second that passes. It is all realities and complications, as they discover when Mara orders that they take their coffee the same way, as they realize they are both college students and are both studying hard, that they both enjoy Egyptian mythology and both spend their Sunday afternoons in libraries and coffee shops breathing in spring air.
The conversation comes to a close when Nina looks at her watch and gasps. "I'm gonna be late for class! I'll, um, see you around, I guess," she says, gathering her bag and sweater, getting up and tossing her empty coffee into the trashcan a few feet away.
"Wait!" Mara grabs her wrist as she starts to go. "Can I have your number?"
Nina sighs, her eyes filled with genuine remorse. "I'm straight."
Mara laughs. "I thought I was, too, but you…"
Nina shakes her head. "No, Mara, I'm straight. I have a boyfriend."
"But… you said you felt like you had met me before, too. Like we had some… connection," Mara insists, her heart falling.
Nina sighs. "I thought that connection was friendly, no more. I don't think you and I are anymore than that."
Mara ignores the familiar pang in her heart, a pang that tells her that just as she has met Nina before, she has had her heart broken by Nina before, in some alternate life or the like, in some place where heartache this intense can only mean this is your soul mate you're looking at; and Mara doesn't even believe in soul mates.
"Look, we can be friends. I'll find you on Facebook. What's your last name?" Nina asks, her eyes apologetic and hurried as she heads towards the door of the coffee shop, Mara following her.
"Jaffray," Mara calls after her, a deep sigh in her voice as she watches the chain of flowers fall out of Nina's hair as she rushes away. Mara steps forward and bends down, picking up the chain of tiny purple flowers. She walks slowly back inside the coffee shop, running her fingers over the browning edges of the dying plant, picks up her purse, and walks quietly out of the shop, still cradling the chain in her hands. As the sun comes out from behind the clouds, she swears she feels the warmth of Nina's gaze on her skin reflected in the sunlight, and that only makes everything all the more painful.
Mara dreams that night of a hundred universes, all in which she and Nina were meant to be but never ended up together, all of which hurt just as terribly as the next.
…
The first time, it's boarding school, a few years earlier, in a place called Anubis House, in the familiar chill of autumn. Between stolen glances, perhaps she and Nina were never really friends, at least not overly close. But before Nina and Fabian get back together, Nina and Mara might have agreed to midnight meetings, they might have been holding hands under the table, and they might have lost their virginity to each other, teeth on necks and hot, stupid sex. They might have, but all Mara hears is her own voice calling out for Nina, and all she sees is blackness and the prominent, familiar purple flower, the same as the ones in Nina's hair in that other life, so distant yet so familiar.
…
The second time, it's a sunlit valley, and light brown hair mixes with black as their lips meet, and it tastes like sunlight and hope, and everything is alright, if only for a moment.
"Oh, Clytie," Nina giggles against her lips, and Mara knows that, in this world, that is her name, for the way it sounds so perfect and right coming from her lover's lips. But her voice turns somber a moment later. "There's something I have to tell you."
Mara pulls away from her slightly, their hands laced in between them. "What is it, Helios?" Again, the name runs off her lips like cool water, and she knows that this is Nina's name in this universe.
"You and I, we can't be together anymore," Nina starts, dropping her hand. "There's someone else… And you know, I'm a powerful god. I can't be tied down."
Mara shakes her head, her eyes widening with disbelief. "You promised. You promised me that you would always be there to make the sun shine for me, that you would always love me…"
Nina shakes her head softly, her eyes pained. "I can't anymore. I don't think you and I were ever meant to be. I'm sorry, Clytie. Goodbye."
"No, please don't leave me," Mara begs, falling to her knees as she watches Nina walk away. Her pale blue dress catches gently in the wind, her brown eyes filling with tears as the sun god leaves her. "Helios, please," she begs. But Nina does not turn around.
This time, as she watches Nina walk away, she collapses, her forehead hitting the ground, her tears sinking into the earth as she sakes with sobs, her dress covering itself in soil, her bare feet becoming one with the grass. She feels herself sinking, fading, dying. As time goes by, she watches the sun, watches Nina's love reflecting down on her, and knows that it is no longer hers; Nina never comes back. This time, Mara stays there on the ground for days and days, until she has cried herself dry, until she is no longer a girl with a broken heart and is now a sun-woven flower, small and purple and emotionless, facing the sun and drinking in its warmth, begging for its attention. The heliotrope. This she becomes, and this she remains. And this time, everything fades.
…
The third time, it's a wall of ice. It's princess gowns and kingdoms and she knows that none of it is hers, because she does not belong to Nina. That, or it is, and Nina is still not there, so none of it matters anyway. She watches from a distance as Fabian takes her queen, as she bows her head and watches and pretends it does not hurt. And in this world, she swears Nina never even knew her, and that is what hurts most of all. She feels as hopeless and empty as the flowers which she turned into, and she never feels Nina's skin on hers, never hears Nina calling out her name in the sheets. Never.
…
This time, as Mara wakes up, she knows that it will be the same. There is never a friend request from Nina, and she can't find her when she looks up 'Ninas' in her area. She knows that in this life, she will never see that girl again. And so she can do nothing but imagine the way Nina's skin might feel against hers, so real and intimate as she swears she has felt it before. She sits in that same coffee shop day after day, every time she has a chance, hoping that Nina might one day return to order another coffee, but she never does. Mara's mind wanders around possibilities, around what Nina might be doing and who she might be in love with, around the brown haired boy from the boarding school story, the king that stole her princess, and watches as the purple flowers from Nina's hair die and wither into brown pieces of hopelessness, just like Mara's heart.