Thorne
Sometimes, he felt like he was dying.
He was finally getting her back, and that was enough.
He wanted it to be enough. Needed it to be.
As for making her fall in love with him again, it wasn't exactly a goal, and he wasn't necessarily trying.
He wasn't not trying, either.
Cinder had told him to be himself (and had cringed as she said it), so that's what he was doing.
He didn't feel much like himself around Cress, though. Because he knew their history and she couldn't remember it. He knew that he had loved her – does love her – but that she didn't know how to feel the same way back.
It wasn't that he didn't want Cress to love him back again. Her love before had started out as hero worship and evolved into something much stronger. He had always been glad that he didn't ruin that impression she'd had of him. But without that foundation, he wasn't sure there was anything to build on, save for the hope that she'd one day remember everything, and that it wouldn't be too late.
This new life she had didn't require him. They saw each other now and then, commed and chatted when there was something of substance to talk about, but that was it. Thorne wasn't sure if she could redevelop her love for him. They had no foundation. He was just a guy that she was told she knew before she lost her memory. Maybe that was the only reason she was comfortable around him at all.
It was hard to have to constantly tell himself that it probably wasn't because some part of her knew him for what he had been to her before.
As he watched her walk away, he willed her to turn around. To see him watching her and to know he thought of her outside of their occasional interactions.
He thought so often of her.
She never turned back. With a sigh, he swiveled around and headed to his hover, kicking himself inside for letting her go. For not trying to fill the rest of his open Sunday afternoon with her gentle presence.
He could only hope that she would take him up on his offer to go running together weekly. He had known that she'd never run before in her life, especially not since the war or before, but it was an excuse for them to hang out. He would take that. That was enough.
With the money he made from his Apollo sponsorships, Thorne kept a modest home on the outskirts of the city, with a comfortable chunk of land around it. It was a good 20 minute drive when traffic wasn't heavy.
After parking the hover in the garage and plugging it into the charging dock, he hopped out and grabbed his pack.
He walked into a fully-furnished home that felt nothing but empty.
It was a ranch-style house with three bedrooms – two extra rooms for when Cinder and Kai or Scarlet and Wolf wanted to visit. Not that any of them had much time for him. Aside from the occasional well-timed video comm session, and daily "how are you?"s, they didn't talk much.
Life was easier when you made your own schedule; it was easier when you were the face of an interplanetary company that created the very cargo ship you used during a war, the very cargo ship that you were two royalty paychecks away from officially owning.
Life was harder when you had no one to share that kind of excitement with. Thorne loved his Rampion, and it was so close to belonging to him. And Cinder was happy for him, but that was all he was allowed.
If Cress was who she had been before, she would've been ecstatic for him. She would've maybe been there with him, having come home with him because that was where she lived, too.
They would've been discussing building a dock for the Rampion beneath the backyard, because it would've been the both of them who preferred that over the alternative of moving to a home that had more acreage to spare space for an above-ground one. It would have been the both of them who knew they lived too near the city to just have it occupying outdoor space. It would've been both of them that didn't want to store it in a garage in the city, though that was where it was now.
Cress and Thorne had talked about living together before. Having separate rooms but otherwise sharing a living space. Building up their relationship until they were prepared to share a room, a bed. Their boundaries in the house would have been different than those aboard the Rampion, where there was nowhere else to go.
Thorne walked into his room to grab clothes and shower, considering if he wanted to make lunch or order in. His Serv4.2 had been busy that morning while he was gone; his laundry chute had a green dot next to the word Empty, and there were fresh towels in the bathroom closet.
He thought often about the first time they'd kissed. Not the kiss on the rooftop – she had not been expecting that; they had not been together.
The first time they'd really kissed, the one they'd agreed on as their official First, she had been expecting it. She had instigated it, in fact. Thorne had been careful around her, afraid to push her too much. But her eyes and her smile and the way she inched closer to him had been enough for him to know exactly what she'd wanted.
They'd only just returned from a post-dinner strategy meeting. It had lasted two hours and they were both exhausted. They shared a room now, though not a bed, as Thorne had only just confessed his feelings for her the day before. They didn't want to move too fast, especially not with the impending war and, another important factor, Cress being young.
But Thorne was tired, his defenses down, and she was gazing in him in a way that made his heart swim into his throat. She moved closer, smiling. It was strange, to see her moving toward him in such an uncharacteristically confident manner.
She was scared, he knew. It wasn't that all she wanted was to forget how scared she was about the whole situation, but that was an important part of it.
On the other hand, he couldn't keep himself from taking her in his arms when she was close enough, from pressing his forehead against hers – though she was trying to pull him closer, to reach up enough to touch her lips to his.
That had made him smile. He wanted her, too, but he was so hesitant about breaching their boundaries.
Her hands cupping his face, one hand on her back and the other buried in her hair - that was all that mattered.
Sometimes, in times of war, you have to let your heart win. And he did.
Her lips were as warm as they were on the rooftop, though more so now that she wanted it, now that she was expecting it. She was kissing him with such intent and passion that he thought she'd probably been aching for it.
The feeling was mutual.
Her fingers worked through his hair and he held her fast against him, his fingers pressing against her back, the fabric of her shirt not quite thick enough to keep him from feeling the warmth of her skin.
When he pulled away – and he had to, because she showed no signs of stopping – he smiled at her. "Good evening to you, too," he said.
As if her air of confidence disappeared completely, she moved a few paces away from him, crossing her arms. "Hey," she said meekly.
"I thought we had rules."
She scratched her head. "We have rules, I know, I just…."
He bent forward and kissed the top of her head. "Me too, Cress. Me too."
Now, Thorne leaned his head against the shower wall, closing his eyes as the nearly-scalding water hit his chest.
He always replayed that memory. Her lips, how shy she was, and yet how proud she'd seemed afterwards. He missed her. He missed being around her and being comfortable in each other's presence. It wasn't fair, how hard life was sometimes. But at least she hadn't died. He would've never come back from that, he didn't think.
Perhaps it was his own subtle greed that kept fate from playing into his hand one more time. He wanted her to remember him, to love him again, despite how often he said that he was only happy that she was still alive.
He wanted it too much, even if he never told anyone.
They probably already knew. He was sure that they did.
He pulled a hand down his face.
He couldn't help but believe that all of this was his fault.
Letting his mind wander, Thorne noted that it was only a few weeks until Cress's birthday. He thought that he should try and make plans for that. It would be a nice gesture, and maybe he could get the others involved.
Cress was doing much better now, or so it seemed, so maybe it would be a good time to get them all together.
Thorne sighed, hoping Cress would agree.