A/N: I don't own Twilight. If you didn't read the last chapter, go back. Right now. This chapter is a little different from other ones, but I had a nice time writing it.

Enjoy.

LXXVIII.

i feel you, pretty baby, feel me

The car configurations changed again as the group moved into Florida, rolling ten deep, and the general disposition of the group was happier. They had managed to melt into one coherent, content unit. It reminded them all of when they were kids. The car groups were in the original formations, except Sam rode with Quil, Embry, Jacob, and Seth. He was partially annoyed and heartbroken, but he was fully immersed in the creative process that he was witnessing.

Quil and Embry were actually recording a mixtape. They had planned it a while back since Quil was always rapping about something, but it was the isolation factor of the road trip that had gotten them to start. Embry had brought his laptop, Quil had bought a microphone, and with the help of a semi-decent smart phone app, they were making beats and recording songs. Embry was more about the production aspect, and Quil supplied the lyrics.

On the way to Daytona Beach, Quil was writing rhymes in the backseat, behind Embry, when a light bulb went off in his head. When he wasn't being consumed by depression and guilt over murdering Jasper, he could be really creative and productive.

"I think I just got a title for the mixtape," he said, tapping Embry on the shoulder.

"You don't have have a stage name to drop it under," Jacob, who was driving, told him.

"You're late," Seth told Jacob as he sat between Sam and Embry. "When you were busy getting kicked out of a Waffle House, Quil came up with Delinquent V."

Jacob smiled. He didn't have any regrets about serenading Leah—except for the fact that they weren't exactly dating now. But they were okay now. He was okay because they were okay.

"Delinquent V?" he asked Quil. "Your name doesn't even have a 'V' in it."

"Yeah, but 'Delinquent' has a 'Q' in it," Quil replied. "And the 'V' sounds good, but it's also a five. You know, 'cause I'm Quil Ateara the fifth."

"Oh, shit," Jacob said. "That's actually not bad."

"That's the last time you clowns try to doubt me," Quil said. "Anyway, Emb, I got a title."

"Give it to me," Embry said.

"98350."

"That's real original," Sam muttered.

"You trying to doubt me again, clown?" Quil asked him. "It's actually hella original. What do you think, Emb?"

"I mean, I guess it's original," Embry replied. "No one's gonna remember it because it's a zip code for an irrelevant reservation, but it's alright."

"I didn't wanna name the mixtape after one of the tracks. I hate that shit 'cause it's so lazy."

"Did you narrow down the tracks?" Jacob wondered.

"It's not down to thirteen yet," Quil said. "Right now, I'm at..." He flipped through a few pages of his rhyme book. "Twenty-two."

"God damn," Embry said. "That's a lot of songs."

"I've got a lot to say. We've still gotta do Paul's interview, too, though. We should finish that as soon as possible."

For the mixtape, as a taste of what Quil called "artistic shit," he and Embry would ask everybody in the group, individually, how they were feeling in that very moment. Nobody outside of this car knew what Quil and Embry were working on, or why they were recording their responses. Quil and Embry planned on splicing the recordings up and scattering them throughout the mixtape, as samples or otherwise. Quil had a vision, and a huge part of that vision was the people he had grown up with. If he could get through the rest of this road trip without killing himself, then the project might just be good.

While Quil had gotten a couple jobs, gotten out of the badlands for the first time in his entire life, and gotten hit with creativity due to being out on the road, he hadn't been able to run away from what he'd done. He didn't seem to be a suspect, but the country wasn't over the murder of Jasper Cullen. Jasper's face didn't plague every newspaper or news special on TV anymore like it had when it had first happened, but every week, there seemed to be a new interview with his father, the doctor, or even his brother, the Ivy League pre-med student who Quil used to sell weed to.

It was all messing with Quil's head. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Jasper's surprised expression. He saw the hole in his forehead. He saw the twenty dollars that he had stolen that night, along with Jasper's life. Everybody else was well into spring, but Quil's mind was still stuck in the last day of winter. He could sit on the beach in Florida, right under the sun, but he would still feel cold. Quil wasn't that good at hiding his emotions; he wore his heart and his thoughts and his entire being out on his sleeve. If he was suffering, the world would know. But at the same time, he felt like he was screaming underwater. Nobody could hear him. Nobody could save him.

He was drowning.

"What's this even for?" Paul asked as Embry got the digital voice recorder ready. They had made it to Daytona Beach after a 440 mile drive from Atlanta with virtually no stops except for gas and food. They had all just settled in their oceanfront hotel, and Paul had managed to escape to the shore.

He had been sitting alone with a box of cigarettes and a lighter, contemplating yet again whether or not he should relapse into his old habit. He supposed that his lungs were already fucked up, so it wouldn't mean anything, but he knew it would piss off Bella. He was positive it would. Then again, maybe one cigarette wouldn't piss her off too much. But at the same time, he was a chain smoker, and it wasn't even because he was stressed out all the time.

He didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him, in all honesty, but he was glad that Embry had found him. When Paul remembered that he had people around him who he loved, he remembered who he was, and he remembered that he was way more than his old addiction. He was Paul fucking Lahote. His ego was through the roof, but it was with reason.

"It's just for a little project," Embry replied. "Kind of a scrapbook, but less lame. Just don't tell anybody, alright?"

"Don't worry about it," Paul said. "Okay. So you're gonna interview me?"

"I'm gonna just ask you a couple questions." He held out the digital voice recorder. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

Embry cleared his throat and then pressed the record button. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Paul said, not sure if he believed it. But then he looked past Embry, past everybody on the beach, and found the Atlantic Ocean. He shoved all the other irrelevant thoughts in his head someplace else, and he found Bella. He found peace. "I'm good," he repeated, more sure of himself.

That's what they all say, Embry thought. Prior to Paul's interview, everybody had initially said something similar to good. Bella had said that verbatim. Sam had said that he was fine.

"How are you really doing?" Embry asked.

"I'm really doing good," Paul responded, looking at Embry. "Everything feels just right."

"Why?"

"'Cause..." Paul looked back to the ocean again. "'Cause I'm on the beach, I don't have to run anymore, and my best fuckin' friend is having my baby. That's why everything feels just right."

Embry stopped recording. He was silent for a moment before he finally said, "That's perfect."

Paul nodded, and he could hardly believe he had been completely, one hundred percent honest.

He didn't have to run anymore. He didn't want to.

Leah had gotten tired of the Deep South by the time they had all made it to Daytona Beach. The driving—full of blue skies, open roads, and pure, unadulterated sunshine—had been easy, but she was starting to miss the Pacific Northwest. She missed the attitude that she had been brought up by and condoned in her everyday life. Plain old politeness was now in place of the classic Have a nice day somewhere else vibe that she had known all her life.

She'd seen and done a lot by the time they made it to Daytona Beach. She'd gone skinny-dipping in the Gulf of Mexico. She'd had enough fried food to never be hungry again. She'd gotten kicked out of a Waffle House, but she didn't have any regrets. She'd gotten a nice tan. She'd taken aesthetically pleasing pictures in front of a large handful of buildings and motel swimming pools.

She'd seen a lot of Kim, too. Leah was starting to think she had seen Kim more on this trip than she had ever seen herself in the mirror. From the mere exposure of Kim's presence, she got more and more gorgeous to Leah. It wasn't fair. Kim had always been the prettiest person Leah knew, but this was almost getting out of hand. With her dark brown curls turning lighter due to the sun and freckles developing across her nose area, Kim looked more like her mom now than ever, except she looked happier. She was happier.

Seeing Kim happy made Leah happy. Kim had been right; they were a package deal. One of them couldn't be happy without the other being happy. They coexisted on the same wavelength, and Leah wouldn't want it any other way. Leah didn't know exactly what she wanted, but she knew that Kim was all she would ever need. It was only clear.

This was made even more clear on that first night in Daytona. While Leah could handle the South with Kim, she still missed the North and her Northern tendencies, which included watching Selena at least once a week. She had brought her DVD with her, but hadn't been able to find the chance to use it until now. It was 2AM when she was trying to operate the hotel room DVD player without waking up Kim, but then she managed to loudly drop the DVD case in the process.

"You could have tried to be a little quieter," Kim said.

Leah turned around, facing the bed that they shared. "Shit, I thought you were asleep."

"Ugh, I wish," Kim groaned, sitting up.

Leah picked up the DVD case and put the DVD in the player. Then she took the remote and got back into the bed. "It's just too damn hot back here," she said.

Kim scooted over next to Leah, at the edge of the bed. "God, I know. I should have conditioned for this heat before coming out here."

They were silent for a little while, but it wasn't awkward. They just waited for the main menu of the DVD to load. Leah played the movie, but she kept the volume low. She could quote it word for word, anyway.

"I still haven't heard the result of Wafflegate," Kim said, running a hand through her hair. "Did you patch things up with Jacob?"

Leah laughed a little too hard. "Fucking Wafflegate," she said. "You should've been there—it was wild. But, yeah, me and Jacob are good. I've just been thinking about it, though, and I wish I was still a virgin."

"Why?"

"Men think their dicks are important enough to change women, and somehow, that shit actually works. Dick ruins lives."

"Uh-huh, honey."

They both laughed. Leah then realized she didn't have to miss home if Kim was with her.

"Thanks for being in my life, Kim," she said, looking down at the pattern of the comforter. "Thanks so much."

"No, thank you for being around all this time," Kim replied. "You've never gone anywhere, no matter how distant I got, and I appreciate that."

Leah exhaled deeply, the light bouncing off the TV and illuminating the side of her face as she turned to Kim. "I guess we're just a couple of soul mates."

"Yeah," Kim agreed. "I used to have the biggest thing for you, you know."

Leah tried to act like she wasn't surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was kind of embarrassing."

"Oh, 'cause loving me is so embarrassing, huh?" Leah teased.

Kim couldn't help but smile. "Shut up," she said. "It was just so embarrassing because I didn't know what to do about it. It didn't go away after high school, and honestly, I don't even know if it's fully gone away yet."

"Well, are you gonna kiss me to find out or what?" Leah asked.

Kim hesitated for a moment, but she finally leaned in to close the space between them. With closed eyes, she started out slow, just barely tasting Leah's bottom lip. Leah tasted like how Kim had always imagined she would taste, and more. Kim tried to take it slow and tried to be patient, but she had almost been waiting for this moment. Leah tasted like a dream, and Kim didn't want to wake up. She finally stopped, however, when she realized that Leah was staying still.

By the time Kim pulled away, Leah's eyes were just reopening.

Leah, with a slight smile, looked like she was waiting for something. "Do it again," she said.

Kim didn't hesitate this time, and she went back in with all the passion in the world. Anybody but Leah would have been completely fazed. This time, Leah responded with matching passion and enthusiasm. Her hands were suddenly all over Kim—in her curly hair, running along her body without being too rough—and Kim's hands were on Leah's cheeks, keeping her close. They were both breathing heavily. Leah thought her own heart was gonna burst from her chest.

But when they broke away and looked at each other, they both ended up laughing.

"I think I know now," Kim said, giggling. "I don't have a thing for you like that anymore."

Leah's laugh was breathy. "Yeah, I'm good. I still think we're soul mates, though. Platonic ones, but still soul mates."

"No, yeah, we're definitely soul mates," Kim agreed. "It'd be stupid for us not to be."

"Yeah." Leah trailed off, but then regained the courage to carry on. "Kim, I'm not really sure what I'm doing, or if I know who I wanna be with, or if I even wanna be with anybody in a serious way right now, but I just want you to know that if you ever decide that I'm not a crazy-ass for wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, then say no more. I'm here, and I'll make sure that we'll be the cutest. I'll do all the cheesy shit, whether we're platonic or not. I'll stand outside your window with a speaker bumping Destiny's Child."

"Three members or four?" Kim asked.

"Four."

Kim grinned. "Now I know it's real. You're crazy, Lee—like, you're wild—but I love you." She then took Leah's hand in her own and laced their fingers.

With her gaze down at their hands, and she didn't even feel stupid for smiling this much or for this long. "If we're gonna be anything beyond platonic, though," she added, "you've gotta cut your nails first."

They both chuckled, but Kim's smile quickly faded.

"Are you okay?" Leah asked.

"If we become anything more than platonic," Kim began, "I don't just wanna be your sweet fling."

"I told you I'd stand outside your window blasting Destiny's Child," Leah said. "How much more commitment do you need?"

Kim let go of Leah's hand and turned to face her head on. "You know what I mean," she replied. "A girl kisses another girl and then it doesn't mean anything. It's for practice. It's a phase and then they end up separating and marrying some guy and then—"

"Kim," Leah said sternly. "Calm down—you're stressing yourself out and you don't need that. And, anyway, I'm not Bella."

"This isn't about her. This is about us."

Leah just looked at Kim, and Kim looked like she was about to cry for a second.

"I don't know what I want," Leah told her, "but I want you to be here while I figure it out."

"What will happen when you figure it out?"

"I… I don't know," Leah admitted. She had never been unsure about anything in her entire life. It had always been one way or the other, but Kim always had the power to keep her grounded, even in the lack of gray area. Her eyes flashed to the television for a moment. The fact that they were still watching Selena—a movie they had been watching since elementary school, their comfort movie, the one thing that always kept them together, their comfort movie, the only thing they'd known as long as they had known each other—was proof that Kim kept her grounded. Giving up on Kim would be like giving up on history.

Sometimes, history didn't mean anything. That had been the case for Sam and Emily, who had stuck together for history's sake and nothing else. But other times, history was everything.

What would Kim and Leah be if they weren't historical?

"I just want you here," Leah told her. "Like always."

"I want you here, too," Kim said.

"Then let's just be here, okay?"

Kim finally let go. "Okay," she said.

It was 2AM, and they were watching Selena again. They laughed. They cried. They were still angry at Selena's murderer. It was just like old times. Just like when they were seven and ten and thirteen and sixteen and nineteen, except now, they held hands the entire time.

Leah didn't mind change, but she didn't prefer it, either. It was 2AM, and she found her sweet medium.

A/N: I'll try to update when I can. The reviews are especially atrocious rn, though - it'd be nice to receive some indication that I'm not talking to myself.

Thanks as always,

HS