AN: Hello! So I just wanted to give you a heads up: this isn't a very long story. It will definitely last you to the premiere of season 4. I think there are... 3 chapters left?

Anyways I just don't think I should write anymore than what I have written. I'm happy with my ending and I don't want to drag it on too far, you know?

Though eventually, I was thinking about a sequel set in the summer? The epilogue is going to take place then, and I have more ideas... I don't know, we'll see!

Thank you for reading and for all of your support! Now let's see what Gendry's been up to...


He wakes, he eats only because he has to, he goes to lie back in bed, and often he will go to the pub. Not to drink, only to wallow. Gendry has been doing a lot of wallowing.

After the anger subsided, all he feels is… hollow. Like something integral to his very being has been ripped out from him. It hurts. More than Gendry could ever think possible.

Arya Stark broke him.

He avoids the hospital. He knows it's a complete shit thing to do. But he is not ready to face Arya or Jon (who has apparently awoken).

But then school starts up and Gendry is given the task of bringing Jon his classwork. He can't avoid Jon any longer. He prays that Arya will not be there.

Gendry grinds his teeth while he rides the lift to Jon's level. About four times, he almost pushes the button that would take him back to the main floor.

Jon hates him. He fell in love with his little sister. He fucked his little sister. He hid it from him. He stepped out of the way.

The lift dings to tell him that he has arrived on his desired floor.

Gendry walks stiffly to his room. His fingers fidget with the damaged spine of Jon's High Valyrian textbook, nails picking off the torn paper. He tries to think of what he will say to his roommate. His closest friend that he betrayed.

He doesn't end up saying anything. Neither of them does. They stare at each other in silence.

Guilt grips Gendry at the sight of his broken roommate. Jon is hooked up to IVs. He still wears the neck brace. There is a cast on his left arm. The bruises are nearly healed.

He starts to apologize. "I—"

"Let's just leave the past in the past, okay?"

Jon offers a half smile. Gendry nods, "Okay."


It is difficult to the leave the past in the past. Neither Jon nor Gendry speak of what happened, but they both know. It is unbearably awkward. But guilt and desperation to amend his friendship drags Gendry down to the hospital almost on a daily basis (at an hour he knows Arya will be at school).

Their time together mostly consists of staring at the small television, walking around the hospital (a new development for Jon. Now he can actually move around without having to lean on someone), and sitting in silence.

Jon used to be so easy to talk to. Just like with Arya, conversation came naturally with him. Unlike with Arya, their silences were not comfortable.

One afternoon, Gendry finds a jacket thrown onto the sofa. He recognizes it as Arya's. His hand reaches for it, his fingers traces the buttons and pockets. He is overcome with hollowness.

"Yeah," Jon clears his throat. Gendry realizes that he is watching him, and pulls his hand away. "She left it last night."

"Oh." He nods awkwardly. With one last side-glance to the jacket, he turns back to Jon. "Wanna watch some TV?"

Gendry stays with Jon for an hour or so before heading out. He doesn't want to risk Arya stopping by, and tomorrow he has a Westeros History exam. He figures he should look over his notes a bit.

He thinks of Arya on the walk home. He thinks of her in that jacket. He thinks of their last day together. He thinks of when he was pulling it off her shoulders. He thinks of wrapping it back around her, because she's cold. He thinks of her frozen hand in his. He thinks of them in bed. He thinks of her soft thank you.

Gendry tries to revise. He does. But it's difficult to concentrate. About a half-hour of staring at his notebook, he admits defeat. For a solid hour, he tries to watch television. He can't focus on that either.

He showers. He shaves. He does fucking laundry. He makes toast. But when only crumbs are left on his plate, he is back to where he started.

Gendry sighs and grabs his coat, and heads out the door.

He is bound for the pub.


Gendry doesn't see her car in the lot.

It is busy that night. It is crowded with loud and obnoxious drunk people. It isn't until he's pushed through the mass of bodies huddled by the bar that he sees her.

He is stunned. He is frozen. His heart pounds against his ribs, he hears it loud in his ears.

She is curled up in their booth, her head resting on the wall. He counts three empty shot glasses on the table. And a nearly empty pint.

Her eyes are closed. She doesn't see him.

His feet move on their own will. He is walking towards her. His hand reaches out.

"Arya," he says. "Arya, are you alright?"

Her eyes flutter open. They are glazed over, but the surprise peeks through. "… Gendry?"

He coaxes her out of the booth. "I think it's time to go home."

"No…" she slurs. She shakes her head as she stands. "I can't go home. Not like this."

She leans on him heavily for support. The sharp smell of alcohol assaults his nose. Perhaps she really can't go home like this. "Okay, we won't then." He tries to sound reassuring. "We'll go to mine."

"Jon…"

"Jon is in the hospital, remember?"

"Right."

He ends up carrying her out to the car. It takes Gendry a few minutes to find it. When he does, he puts her in the passenger's and tries to buckle her seatbelt. Her keys are in her jacket pocket.

She rests her head against the window along the ride home. He sends concerned glances her way every once and a while. Gendry has never seen Arya this drunk.

They pull up to the university. When he goes around to help her out of the car, he sees that she's crying.

She is looking down. Silent tears are caught in her lashes. Her cheeks are wet.

"Hey." His hand reaches for hers. She doesn't pull away. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," she tells him. "Everything is so fucked up. I fucked everything up."

"You just had a bit too much—"

"No," she says adamantly. "Let me get this out. I fucked up, okay? You… you are good for me. You make me different too. You made me slow down, calm down, enjoy the little things. You made me happy. You made me feel beautiful. You made me want you. You… you made me fall in love with you."

He wants to believe her. He wants to tell her that he loves her too. He wants to wrap her in his arms. "Arya," Gendry swallows painfully. "You're drunk."

"That doesn't mean I don't mean it." Her hand reaches for him, for his face. "At the hospital… you said… Do you love me?"

He looks into her eyes, and he is hopeless. "Yes."

"Kiss me."

He does.


Arya wakes in Gendry's bed, in Gendry's arms. Her phone is beeping. Light streams through the curtains, and she squints her sensitive eyes.

She reaches for her phone, trying not to disturb her sleeping bedmate. She has two missed calls from her father. A text from her mother. Where are you?

Arya replies that she fell asleep at the hospital and that she's sorry, and will be home soon. Luckily it's a Saturday and she will not have to go to school.

Gendry stirs. She watches him come to with a smile.

Last night is a bit blurry, but she remembers most of it. She remembers him kissing her, telling her he loved her, his arms keeping her steady as they made their way upstairs, him guiding her to the bed and immediately falling into an alcohol induced sleep. She remembers him crawling in beside her, whispering goodnight and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Hi," he grins sleepily.

She bites her lip to contain her smile. "Hi."

Arya leans closer, slowly moving on top of him. Her lips brush across his jaw. His hands wander up her shirt, fingers mapping out her spine. She melts into his touch.

"Aren't you hungover?" His voice is low and breathy in her ear.

Arya whispers, "No." She tilts her head to meet his lips with her own. She does it again, their tentative tongues brush. The kiss deepens, his hand comes to the back of her head. She is tugging off her shirt.

Her phone rings. She pauses. "Just leave it," Gendry says.

She bites her lip with an apologetic look, "It might be my parents." Arya rolls off of him to answer. "Hello?"

"Arya, where are you?" It is her father.

"At the hospital, I told mum—"

"Your mother went to visit Jon earlier this morning with Bran and Rickon. Please do not lie to me."

Fuck. Is it better to tell your father that you stayed at a man's house because you were drunk or because you were having sex? Arya wishes Sansa were there to ask. "I may have stayed at Jon's dorm."

"You mean Gendry's dorm." Arya remains silent. It wasn't a question anyway. "You got back together?"

"I was going to tell you," she says. "It happened just last night."

There is silence on the other line. "Arya… maybe you shouldn't be staying the night at—"

"Dad, um. Can we please have this conversation later?" And not while Gendry is right beside her?

"Yes. Just come home before your mother has a heart attack."

"Okay, I will."

They say their goodbyes and she hangs up. "I have to go," she says. "I'm sorry."

Arya is out of bed, searching for her shoes. She finds them kicked off over by the kitchen. How did they get over there?

"It's okay. Does your Dad know about us?"

"Yeah." She hastily pulls on her sneakers. "He doesn't seem mad though. I think he just wants me to come home."

She grabs her jacket off the sofa and returns to Gendry. She bends to kiss him goodbye.

Their lips meet, and she forgets that she is in a rush. Her eyes flutter closed and his hand comes to her cheek. Her mouth lingers on his as they part. He brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. She is mesmerized by his eyes, by the way they look at her so tenderly.

Arya will always be mesmerized by his eyes.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."