Chapter Text
*
“So, we are in the middle of it, right?” Coronabeth explains, a beer can precariously held in one hand, and a dark blush on her neck and cheeks. “And he’s mumbling something.”
Gideon smiles, sort of figuring out already where this is going just by looking at the blonde goddess sitting beautifully on the couch.
“And, honestly, I could barely understand anything he was saying. He was… mumbling, alright? He keeps mumbling something next to my neck, and giving me the worst pumps of his life, in the meantime,” Corona laughs a bit, clearly a step further from just tipsy now, “…and then I finally make out what he is saying after, like, a good minute!” She laughs again, her hand covering her mouth elegantly.
In all fairness, everyone is kinda following, a bit curious and mostly tipsy, to the point where anything said is pretty funny by now.
“So what was it, then?” Camilla asks, a playful smirk on her face and an arched eyebrow to match the curiosity in her gaze.
“That fucker was mumbling the 7 times table!” Corona erupts in a raucous laugh, with everyone following into hilarity.
“Yes, that sounds like a disappointing endeavour,” Pal comments between waves of laughter, while cleaning his glasses with the hem of his sweater.
“Hey, the poor guy was trying his best there!” Gideon argues back, barely keeping a straight face, and failing spectacularly in getting anyone to agree with her. “He was trying to make it through another couple of minutes so you could have your socks rocked off, Corona, I’m telling ya.” She adds, casually using the slice of pizza in her hand to point at Coronabeth.
“You know what?” Corona bites back, smacking her lips. “A couple of minutes more wouldn’t have helped much, Red. If he managed to get me a touch horny at that point, after hearing him mumbling 7 times 6 equals 46 I was done for the night, hunny.”
And everyone laughs at that, not even pretending to keep it together.
“Jeez…” Gideon breathes after a couple of seconds, “Your pussy made him forget basic math, Cor. If that’s not a compliment, I don’t know what is.” Corona snorts, hiding her amused smirk behind her beer can.
It’s one of their usual Friday nights.
They all met up at Corona and Ianthe’s apartment, the only one big enough to host everyone at the same time and, as usual, they ordered an unhealthy amount of take-out food.
The half-empty pizza boxes are lying around the living room, three boxes on the big dining table, another couple of them on the coffee table right in front of them, and a few abandoned carelessly on the floor.
They meet like this once or twice per month now: sometimes it’s only a few of them, the tightest group being Cor, Pal, Camilla and Gideon, really, but tonight they managed to get the whole group back together, out of some sort of star alignment or something.
And, as usual, as soon as everyone is together, bunked up in a large living room with plenty of seating for everyone to feel comfortable, they all revert back to being idiots and talking shit about their past experiences and funniest memories.
So it’s not really a surprise that, after Cor's newest conquest ended so badly, Pal makes it a group topic.
“You know what?” He starts while refilling his wine glass and Camilla’s, “I don’t blame the guy. We all had pretty terrible nights, at one point. Not to point fingers here, Coronabeth, but don’t you remember that one Halloween, back in Sophomore Year?” He asks, smirking devilishly.
“Oh God, let’s not talk about that…” Camilla jumps in, bringing a hand up to her forehead as if to stop the beginning of a headache.
“Hey! Hey! I’m not saying I’m an angel, Pal,” Corona replies while laughing embarrassedly. “Poor Cam shouldn’t have to revive that night just to make a point, though,” she tries to swerve the topic, while putting a hand on Cam’s shoulder, who groans in agreement.
Pal laughs behind his wine glass, and Gideon guffaws, barely keeping a huge mouthful of pizza between her teeth.
“Yeah, that night has been banned for good, seriously,” she adds, grabbing another piece of pizza in between her teeth while opening a bottle of beer with fast hands.
“What are you guys talking about?” Isaac joins in, leaning on the backrest of the sofa, while his mouth is still way too full from his last pizza bite.
“Oh, let’s not talk abo—“
“Corona puked all over a girl she was fucking in Sophomore Year,” Gideon explains like it’s the most mundane thing in the world, “and poor Cam and Pal had to rescue her,” she ends with a shoulder shrug.
“God…thanks, Gideon,” is Corona’s response, mumbled right before taking a big gulp from her can.
“That’s disgusting,” Isaac notes, his face contorting in a grossed-out expression, while Jeannemary nods in agreement next to him with a polite, “Ew.”
“Oh well, at least I didn’t make a girl cry while fucking. Am I right, Pal?” Cor asks, feigning innocence, but clearly amused by the turn in attention.
Gideon smirks, and Cam starts laughing softly next to the man.
“That must have been tough. What happened? Were you that bad?” Jeannemary asks, in between little laughs.
“Listen, she was sad because she just broke up with another guy, and I was there to cheer her up!” He remarks, hands moving quickly to point at basically everyone in the room, trying to save his own reputation.
“You cheered her up alright…” Corona whispers, “Did either of you guys finish? Or was it just a crying fest with your dick pumping inside of her?” She asks, and even though her words are vulgar and nasty, she makes them sound soft and mocking rather than offensive. It is a truly impressive gift that she has.
“Well,” Pal replies, a little smug, “…she came if that’s what you are asking.” He puffs his bird chest a little, before deflating slightly. “At least, I think…” He mumbles, while all the people in the room start laughing again.
Palamedes rubs his chin a bit, lost in thoughts for a second, “I mean, I guessed she came, at the time. Now, I’m not too sure,” he finishes, laughing softly at the memory.
“That sounds depressing, seriously. Poor girl…” Jeannemary presses on.
“…yeah Pal, that poor girl. You clearly weren’t up for the task there,” Gideon adds, smug and mockingly.
“What, because you have no bad experiences in the sack, Red?” Corona comments on that, looking for some extra fun in arguing with Gideon.
Gideon is ready to reply with a polite "never puked on a girl before!", but their little bickering gets interrupted when the garden door opens, making space for the rest of their group to get back from their cigarette break.
A cold gust of air sweeps through the living room, giving Gideon a second to breathe the freshness in, dropping her eyes on black heavy boots tapping softly on the wooden floor, and bony fingers fidgeting with the long sleeves of a hoodie.
Slowly, and chattering all through, the whole gang fits back in the living room.
Naberius, with his perfectly coiffed hair, and Ianthe, in her satin dress, head straight for their seats; the strong cologne of the most useless man Gideon’s has ever known wafts all around them, mixing badly with the ashy smell of cigarettes and the rotten sweetness of Ianthe’s perfume.
Ortus, on the other hand, heads straight for the bathroom, his shoulders hanging low like he just got defeated in a duel of some kind.
Protesilaus is the last one to join, closing the garden door behind him, while Dulcinea hangs softly by his arm; why she continues to join in for cigarette breaks when she hasn’t smoked a single one her whole life (for obvious reasons) is still beyond anyone’s comprehension.
Gideon looks out the glass door for a second: the Tridentarius’ garden is illuminated by an artificial glow, while the dark heavy clouds in the sky presume a thunderstorm not too far away from them.
She loves summer thunderstorms, there’s something so relaxing about rain falling heavily when it’s warm and humid outside. She smiles, and out of habit (and possibly due to the couple of beers in her system now), she drops her eyes on the slim, slightly hunched figure of Harrowhark Nonagesimus while she gently plops on the empty space next to Ianthe on the sofa.
It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been doing this sort of little dance: every time Harrow catches Gideon staring at her, she stops for just one second, grits her teeth tightly, and then proceeds to avoid her gaze.
Every. single. time.
Nothing else ever changes: they don’t talk to each other, they barely acknowledge the other’s presence and, when possible, they never ever spend time alone together. That also means that every time they look at each other, the room feels like it’s hanging on a thin razor’s edge: will today be the day? Are they going to fight each other? Scream at each other? Just play civil in front of everyone else?
Gideon doesn’t know what today is going to be like but so far she is slightly buzzed on beer and pizza, and she cannot stop looking at Harrow’s hands, always moving anxiously.
“What are you guys talking about now?” Dulcinea asks, innocently, swapping Protiselaus’ arm for Palamedes’, and hanging behind Gideon’s spot on the sofa.
“We were about to hear all the great stories of how Gideon is amazing in bed,” Camilla answers in a bored tone, while Corona and Palamedes snigger.
Gideon laughs, throwing her head back and bumping into Camilla’s arm. At the same time, she starts to feel pretty hot under her t-shirt, clearly feeling a dark blush spreading from her neck upwards.
“Well, she is not so bad, really,” Corona jumps in. “She definitely knows how to use her tongue, let me tell you that,” and she licks her red-painted lips after that, sending a little kiss Gideon’s way.
Everyone seems to laugh at that, while Gideon avoids anyone’s eyes at the same time.
Curiously, Harrow doesn’t seem to find the chosen topic particularly funny, deciding to take a sip of her non-alcoholic beverage instead.
“Well, I think I heard enough of her conquests through the walls of our dormitory to say that I do not find that particularly surprising,” Pal adds to the commentary, with an awkward smile.
“Oh, please, that year I think we were all aware of how good Gideon’s tongue was. Half of the swimming’s team was besotted with her, and the other half was taking turns warming her bed,” Dulci replies with a softly amused tone.
Ianthe gags loudly.
“How did we end up talking about Gonad’s sex life, exactly? Shall we talk about, I don’t know, literally anything else instead?” Ianthe steers the conversation for the first time since they all started to kid around. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to hear more about how my dear sister used to enjoy your tongue, Nav, but I think I’d rather cut my own ears off and chuck them down the drain,” Ianthe muses while keeping a malicious smirk on her lips.
The room erupts in loud laughter at Ianthe’s comment, while Gideon snorts and Harrow—well, Harrow is still quiet in her little corner of the sofa, still lost in her own thoughts, rather than joining in the conversation.
You see, college was a time of discovery for Gideon.
She started to grow more confident in her body: her lanky frame started to build up after hours and hours in the gym, and with that, her confidence was boosted. Girls started to be curious, and the age of exploration meant a good amount of hook-ups for the former captain of the rugby team.
“You got me curious now,” Palamedes brings them back to the conversation, swatting Gideon’s shoulder from behind. “You clearly had quite the following in college. Are you telling me that you never had a bad experience in bed? Seriously? Not even one?” He asks, with a curious smile on his face.
Gideon has never had any issues talking about her conquests, really. She always enjoyed talking about sex, and in a way, she always bragged about her experience since the very first time, when she arrived in the morning with two proud hickeys on her neck, gifts of her very first lady-lover.
“I mean…I think they were all alright, honestly,” Gideon mumbles, feeling a bit hot.
Camilla raises an eyebrow at that, and Corona immediately jumps right after.
“You’re full of shit, dear.” Corona’s voice is mockingly serious. “Don’t play coy, Red. Camilla and I know better.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tridentarius.” Gideon is fully aware what Corona is talking about, and she’s praying to all the Gods she's never prayed to for her to drop it.
“Oh, really? Want me to refresh your memory, Red?” Corona not only doesn’t drop it, but looks menacing enough that Gideon knows she’s bound for a very fucked up conversation.
Gideon locks her jaw, grinding her teeth for a couple of seconds, and briefly snapping a glance at Harrow, who is now looking at her like she knows. She knows what they are talking about. How could she fucking not?
“I always had decent times in bed, nothing to complain about...” Gideon goes again, talking directly to Coronabeth now, even though she can feel that no one is really believing her, by now. Not when Corona has that face going on, and Camilla behind her shrugs her shoulder in a clear gesture of agreement that Gideon is saying bullshit.
“Not even about my cousin?” Dulci asks, thinking out loud, in a soft voice.
Gideon shrugs a little. “I mean, Cytherea and I fucked for a couple of weeks, it was okay, honestly…” she adds, after that, softly.
“That wasn’t what I meant, but still so fucking wrong…” Corona comments lightly, with a heavy tone.
Gideon is not sure whether to be thankful to Dulcinea for the quick swerve of the conversation, or not.
What is worse, really? Talking about her very toxic relationship with Dulcinea’s cousin, or about the stupid comments she made while completely wasted years ago?
“Can you imagine going after a barely 18 year old kid when you’re over 30?” Palamedes whispers, his usual filter a bit compromised by the alcohol.
“It’s fucked up, I know now, alright?” Gideon intervenes, trying to stop the conversation before it heads somewhere way too heavy for the night, “But all things considered, it could have been much worse.” She says, “Cyth was a freak, don’t get me wrong,” looking at Dulcinea to make sure she is not offended by her words, “but she knew what she wanted, and she didn’t force me to do anything. Really.”
“That’s debatable,” Camilla argues, her tone stone cold.
Gideon thinks for a few seconds, while everyone stays quiet.
“I thought I was cooler than everyone else, at the time. She chose me, okay?” She smiles, a bit sadly. No one ever chose her, before. It was all she ever wanted, and Cytherea was the first to ever choose her. “Now I know that she went for someone easy to hook up with. But seriously, it could’ve been much worse. I felt a bit shitty when she disappeared after a couple of weeks, but it was for the better anyway,” Gideon comments and takes a sip from her bottle.
The atmosphere turns a bit sombre, after that. Dulcinea’s face has a heavy shade now: talking about her cousin’s mistakes always brings back bad memories. Protesilaus has a protective expression on his face, even though his body remains relaxed. Everyone is trying their very best to look busy drinking, eating, or pretending to be at least.
And in all honesty, that’s Gideon’s biggest mistake: when she feels the silence and has to fill it with the most stupid choice of words.
“So yeah, I mean. I can’t complain about anyone else, I guess,” the fucking genius, why does she keep talking, really?
“Okay, that is not true, c'mon. What about ‘the worst-lay-of-your-life’, Red?” Corona argues back, her tone turning back to light and humorous. “I clearly remember you talking about that girl like it went all sort of wrong in bed,” she laughs a bit, the rim of her beer can next to her lips.
“Look, Corona, just—” Gideon starts, in a whisper.
“…worst lay of your life?” The words interrupt anything Gideon was about to say.
Harrow is typically quiet whenever they meet all together. She joins every now and then, mostly because Palamedes forces her, or sometimes when Ianthe is being particularly annoying that she never talks to other people. But yeah, she tends to stay quiet most of the night, complacent in her little spot, listening without really adding much to the conversation.
But her voice is crystal clear to Gideon’s ears, and to everyone else around the room, breaking through like a broken glass on marble pavement.
Harrow is looking expressionless, as always. Anyone would think she just asked out of curiosity. Because, in all fairness, it is quite a curious topic.
“Right?! We want to hear more, Gideon, c'mon.” Corona jumps right back at it, then focuses her attention on Harrow, “Can you imagine? She is always bragging about how much sex she has, and how great it is,” Cor laughs lightly, “but she admitted it once, you know. She said that she got all good at fucking now, after having the worst sex of her life!” She keeps going, and Gideon is starting to hear some sort of static noise as if the TV just turned on and had that kind of channel that grates on her ears.
“I thought she was talking about Cytherea, honestly,” Camilla adds, looking curiously at Gideon.
“No, Cam, don’t you remember? She swore sex with Cytherea was good. Wait, no, what did she say?” Corona looks questioningly at Camilla, “Great sex, in comparison, really,” and she laughs. Again. A sound that Gideon starts to feel very fucking annoyed about.
But Gideon is not really listening to them, by now. She can barely look at anything, at anyone, other than Harrow’s black eyes.
And she is expressionless, still, not a single emotion on her pointy face. Then why the hell is Gideon feeling like she needs to throw up? Why Harrow’s eyes seem so disgustingly sad at the commentary going on between Corona and Camilla?
“And you know, we asked so many times what the hell happened that night, to be defined as ‘worst-lay-ever’, but Gideon only gave usa drunken retelling, so... C’mon, spill it, Red. It’s time for you to give us all the deets.” Corona urges, pushing Gideon away from her thoughts.
And Gideon swears she sees a flash of lightning brightening the sky behind Harrow, through the garden door. With a little head shake, Harrow looks through Gideon’s golden eyes.
“Yes, Nav, why don’t you explain what you meant,” she asks in a sombre tone.
Words get stuck in Gideon’s throat for a second.
“I just… I mean—” She starts, fidgeting with her beer bottle, “There’s nothing to explain. I had sex with a girl and we weren’t compatible. That’s all. It happens.” She tries to end the conversation like that, taking another gulp of beer to wash the words out of her mouth.
Harrow snorts lightly, looking away for a second, shaking her head once more.
Then her black eyes get back to golden ones.
“Not compatible. That’s what you’re going for?” And she shakes her head again, this time way more pronounced. “You can do better than that, can’t you? Tell us more. Don’t act all shy now, Griddle.”
It must be the way she uses her nickname like that, as if bitter poison coats Harrow’s tongue when she says it. It might be the hard expression on her face: a challenge, of sorts. It makes Gideon’s blood boil over.
“What do you want me to say, oh dark empress?” She remarks, biting on every single word with venom, “I’m trying to be respectful, you know?” She nods her head like she wants to highlight the respectful bit.
“You weren't that respectful when you called it ‘the worst night of your life’, were you?” Harrow bites back, in a hard voice.
“I never said it was ‘the worst night’, sweetheart, let’s not exaggerate there” Gideon starts, with a devilish grin, “but fuck, you can definitely peg it down as ‘the worst lay of my life’, that’s for sure,” and she will probably end up regretting those words, but in that single moment, it feels good to dig a knife in Harrow’s ego.
S
he sees Harrow’s features harden even more, if possible: her stone-cold expression becomes haunting, and what felt like sadness before, now morphs into full-on regret and fury at taking part in this conversation.
And Gideon is a self-proclaimed douchebag, don’t get her wrong. She’d love to start a full-on screaming match with Harrow about that one fucking night years ago, before their very tenuous friendship came crumbling down. One dumb night that still haunts them after so long.
But she’s the first one to not want all their friends as the unpaying audience of that particularly humiliating conversation.
So, let’s move the topic to something more…safe?
She turns back to Corona sporting a small grin.
“There’s really nothing much to say, Cor. And you know most of the details anyway,” Gideon shrugs a bit, going for another slice of pizza, and trying so fucking hard to look nonchalant at the whole thing.
Out of the corner of her eye, Gideon sees Harrow’s face locked in a betrayed expression. That’s when Gideon realises what she just implied: Corona knows the details of their night together. She knows how badly everything went, that night. She must know they’re talking about Harrow, right?
But no. No, she doesn’t know anything!
Gideon starts to open her mouth to rectify what she meant, but right before words come out of it, she gets sidetracked.
“My darling sister, why don’t you just tell us what you know? The moron here doesn’t want to talk.”
Fucking Ianthe and her big fucking mouth.
Gideon almost chokes on her tongue, but she works it through. And JesusfuckingGod!, if Ianthe doesn’t move her sleazy arm from around Harrow’s shoulders, Gideon will fucking chop it off already.
Corona claps her hands excitedly, jumping at the juicy opportunity.
“HA! Okay, let me create the ambience first!”
“Ambience?” Jeannemary asks, a bit confused.
“Of course! You cannot tell such a story without creating a bit of suspense, my dear.” Corona moves to the very edge of the sofa and starts recounting the details she knows of.
“So, we start from the very beginning. You all know that Gideon and I used to hook-up once or twice—,”
“Yeah, we all know—,”
“Back in college, and what great times they were! So, we grew close, one would say,” Corona smacks her lips, way too excited for Gideon’s tastes, really. “One day, or better, one evening, she comes over all rattled. I think she had a bad exam, or something. Dunno, not relevant to the story anyway. As luck would have it, I was having one of my usual get-togethers—,”
“You mean Frat parties,” Babs intervenes.
“—so, everyone was over, really. And we started drinking. The usual amount, for me. But darling, Gideon here was trying to drink the whole party dry!” Corona has the biggest, dorkiest smile she can muster on her model face. God, she really does enjoy telling a good story…too bad Gideon is the butt of the joke in this one.
“And she starts making out with this girl at the party, but she’s too drunk really, so the girl left her all alone with me, and Camilla, who’s an angel and will be forever remembered as the only person that stayed after parties to clean up the mess. Thank you, Cam!”
Corona brings her hands up and starts to count.
“Anyway, to keep it short. Gideon is drunk, and has a lot of pent up energy that comes from being left high and dry; Camilla is buzzed, trying to clean up a mess of a party; and I, always the supportive friend, decided to make fun of Red here for striking out with the aforementioned girl at the party.”
Gideon moves her head, and looks around the room for a second: everyone is listening to Corona. Everyone but one person.
Harrow.
Harrow with tight fists on her knees. A serious expression, thinly veiled fury in her eyes, pointed at Corona, but looking at something far behind her.
Harrow, with her jaw clenched and her teeth grinding. She’s listening, yes, but she’s not really with the rest of them. No, Gideon knows where she went.
Waiting, in a dark room with a twin bed, Harrow is back to her childhood bedroom. The same bedroom where Gideon touched her for the very first time.
“So I start to make fun of her, like we usually do, you know. We like to bicker. And I tell her that, honestly, she would’ve done a pretty bad job at fucking that poor girl in her conditions.”
Gideon's blood runs cold, now remembering what she said right after.
“But! Here is the funny part! Gideon just started to laugh at it, and said, and I’m quoting her here: ‘at least I didn’t give her a panic attack.’”
“Corona, c’mon—,” Gideon starts.
“Dude, a girl had a panic attack while you were fucking her?” Babs asks half laughing, half impressed.
“Fuck off, Naberius, ” Gideon replies, then continues, “…that’s not what happened. I was drunk, I said some dumb shit that night, Cor.”
“So, you didn’t take some poor girl’s virginity, almost gave her a panic attack, then left running cause it was going so bad?” Coronabeth asks her, one hand holding her beer, and the other stretched in front of her, inspecting her nails.
You know when a vinyl record screeches on the player? Yeah…pretty sure that’s how Corona’s words sounded to Gideon’s ears.
“Woah, that’s…— a lot,” Isaac comments, while everyone looks pretty stupefied by the blunt recounting of the story.
“I—, shit…” Gideon relents, dropping her chin to her chest, not even daring to look up towards her former best friend, worst friend, and most terrible mistake.
“Red, it happens. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Sometimes people are not compatible, you said so yourself,” Corona tries to boost her morale a bit.
It really doesn’t work.
“Yeah dude, sometimes it’s a hit or miss, uh? Giving a girl a panic attack is a pretty big miss, though, Nav!”
Fucking Naberius, she’s going to fucking punch him. Right now.
Everyone laughs a bit though, and Gideon feels like a pure piece of shit.
“I—, no, she didn’t have a panic attack. She just…panicked, and I freaked out, and I couldn’t do anything right, so I left. I —, I just left. End of the story.” She’s stuttering now, and she’s flushed, and sweaty, and she looks at Harrow.
Dark, stormy, black eyes. Red rimmed.
How does she make this whole thing any better?
It’s so completely fucked up.
And there’s the same damn silence in the room again: heavy, and awkward, and it’s all her fault anyway. She has to make it right. This whole fucking mess.
So she starts to talk. And of course, she makes it worse.
“Few months after the whole Cytherea fiasco, this chick came to me and asked me to be her first. And I’m a douche, that’s something I know, okay?” She breathes. Everyone starts looking at her. “I was bragging quite a bit about how I was having sex with older girls and had lots of experience under the belt. I guess she came to me because of that.”
Is this making things better? Gideon is not sure, but everyone is listening now, so…
“I agreed, but…I started to freak out, cause the whole thing is crazy, right? I mean, she literally asked me to take her virginity cause she doesn’t want it to be a big deal. But…it is a big deal. She just decided I was the best option for that to happen. It was pretty insane to think about it.”
Yes. She’s ranting now. Good job, Nav.
“The whole thing is surreal, honesty. We—, we get to her bedroom and the first thing she does is turn her blinds, so the whole place is dark. And I can see, more or less, but yeah…not ideal. I understand, I mean, she just wanted to get it over with, I guess…” Yup, still ranting, barely seeing the saddened expression on Harrow’s face. Darker and darker, by the second.
Gideon rubs a hand on her face, all the way up to her hair.
“She keeps saying that she trusts me, and I can do whatever I think is better. I can do…whatever I think is better for her. To her.” Gideon swallows a lump all the way down her throat.
“Well, spoiler alert, I was coming from two weeks of fucking Cytherea, which meant quite literally getting naked in the bed, strapping myself, and letting Cytherea ride me for an hour or so, while being as quite as possible. When she kept telling me to do to her what I think was best— dude, I had no idea what best could even mean.”
Corona and Camilla look quite concerned by now, and Dulcinea is paler than ever.
“Anyway, I—kissed her. I thought, ‘Hey!I have no idea what I’m doing, but kissing seems like a good starting point’, right?” Gideon continues, asking the room, then dropping her eyes towards Harrow’s spot.
“So I kissed her. And it would’ve been great, but—,” she lets out an awkward laugh. “She doesn’t kiss me back.” Gideon is looking at Harrow now, straight into the abyss of her eyes.
“Not for a while, at least. She—fuck, she starts to kiss back after a bit, but I already started to freak the fuck out by that point.”
The room stays silent, hanging by every word Gideon says.
“So, we’re kissing. And it’s not so bad, honestly, but I notice that she is barely moving, really. Like, she is barely kissing back, at all. So, me, you know, the genius, I started kissing her hard. Like. Rough. Loads of tongue, and hands everywhere.” Then in a whisper. “I think I was trying to swallow her whole at one point.” Gideon’s hands are clammy, she notices when one moves to her face, scratching her temples.
“We end up on her bed. Still fully clothed, making out, so I start to take off her jumper at first, then her t-shirt, and her pants, and she’s basically naked in front of me, in like, five minutes. Me? Still fully dressed. And, honestly, so far, so good, I guess. Could’ve been worse.” Gideon giggles, almost without thinking really.
“Nav…” Harrow’s soft voice falls on deaf ears, or almost. Gideon turns towards her, at that point.
“I’ll make it short, okay? I mean, it’s not like there is much to say.” She breathes out, with a sad smile. “It just went from bad to worse.”
Harrow’s eyes saddens even more, enough to goad Gideon into more details.
“So, she’s naked, I’m still fully dressed, and I start to… you know, kiss her on her neck, then her chest, and her belly, and—,” Gideon stops, trembling at the mere thought of Harrow’s skin. “I kiss her all the way down, and I notice she’s stiff, and pale.”
Gideon swallows, remembering exactly what followed after.
“She was hyperventilating.” A pause. “Like, badly.”
“Oh man…” Pal mumbles.
“Right? Not a great sign.” Gideon comments.
“Anyway, I—of course, I stopped when I noticed, and I got her to calm down a bit. And I told her that we could just try another time.” Gideon nods a bit while talking. “But she kisses me, and asks me to continue.” Gideon shrugs, trying to find the correct words to keep going.
“I mean, I was eighteen, I barely had sex that could be defined as that, and even then I knew that she wasn’t ready, okay? I knew it then, and I know it even better now, thinking back at it. She was so not ready. And, I—, I should’ve stopped right there.”
She clears her throat.
“Long story short? I start to touch her, with just one finger, and I notice straight away that she is in pain. Like, straight away. But she asked me to keep going, so I kept going.”
“That’s…not okay.” Palamedes comments, briefly.
“Yeah, I know, Pal.” She replies, frustrated at the comment, “…she was in pain, and possibly keeping a panic attack at bay, still. And I’m freaking out. I mean…I was…so fucking scared I was hurting her. I just—,” Gideon looks around the room again, then back at Harrow, then back to her own clammy hands.
“I stopped, got off of her, and… I don’t even know, I just left as soon as I could. It was awkward— , just… really fucking awkward.”
Gideon finishes the story.
“That sounds like you guys didn’t know how to communicate, honestly,” Palamedes comments after a second.
“Can’t really expect much at 18, can you?” is Gideon’s response.
“I don’t understand why someone would push through with it if they’re in pain,” Jeannemary adds to the commentary, turned towards Isacc, who shrugs.
“She just wanted to get it over with,” Gideon explains as if that made any sense to her.
“I get it, but if she was hurting, why keep asking to continue?” She asks, now talking directly to Gideon.
“You’re asking the wrong person, buddy…” The right person is sitting not too far away, though, she’d like to add.
“Was that the first girl you had sex with after Cytherea?” Dulcinea asks.
Gideon waits a couple of seconds, “Yes.” And after a couple more seconds. “Yeah, she was.” Then fretfully she adds, “she didn’t know, though…there were rumours that I fucked a couple more girls by then. They weren’t true, but I didn’t stop people from saying whatever they wanted, honestly.”
Harrow is quiet, but Gideon can see her swallowing from the corner of her eye.
“Well, for what is worth it, first times are terrible anyway. You said you consider it your first time, Gideon?” Cor asks.
Gideon thinks about it, for a second.
“I…guess, yes. I mean, it was the first time I had to be really present.” The first time that really mattered. She shakes her head for a second “My first time with Cytherea…she did everything. I was there, but…she was just using me,” she adds, thoughtfully.
“Everyone’s first time is terrible. There is no other way around it.” Corona adds again.
“True. And, think of the bright side, Gideon,” Camilla points out, making Gideon arch her eyebrow out of curiosity. “At least you didn’t puke on the poor girl.”
“HEY!”
*
*
After that, the evening turns back to the rest of the group: one by one adding their own worst/first times to the table.
Corona swerves the conversation, and tells the story of how Naberius took her virginity, and then followed up by taking her sister’s the week after.
Camilla jumps after that, remembering fondly a girl from her high school, where awkward fumbling behind bleachers turned into full-on sexcapades once they finally got their rhythm right.
Pal laughs as well, explaining how, the very first time with a girl, he could barely keep his erection because he was so nervous.
And in turns, Dulcinea, Protesilaus, Isaac and Jeannemary all recount their first times: awkward, yes, embarrassing, most often than not, painful, quite a bit.
“..and you, Harrow?” Palamedes asks after everyone stops laughing at Protesilaus' story of how he couldn’t put his condom on the first time he had sex.
Harrow seems to wake up from a deep trance, out of her thoughts, for a second.
“Me what, Sextus?” She asks as if for the last 45 minutes she wasn’t in the same room as the others.
“Your first time? Were you with Alecto, your first time?” He asks, sweetly, but with a sad note.
Harrow takes a long breath, and then locks her eyes with Gideon for just one second, before shaking her head.
“No, no, Alecto came after.” She answers, succinctly.
Gideon’s heart aches every time she thinks of that Barbie bitch. Alecto did come after…like, the week after that, she’d like to add but stays quiet instead. She spoke too much already.
“Was your first time as bad as everyone else here? C’mon, share with us, you’re in a safe space, Nonagesimus,” Corona goads her a little, raising her can to the air.
Harrows smiles a little, and then, possibly for the first time since they all started to be friends, she indulges Corona and answers in a soft voice.
“I—I’ve always been curious, as a person, since I can remember,” she begins, “I never had many friends, if any, as you may know…but I was curious, and—,” Harrow clears her voice, “sex was just another thing I was always curious about. And, of course, college meant throwing myself in an environment where sex might have happened without me being in much control,” she explains with a steady voice, and unsteady hands as if sex was something of a transaction that she could not really understand fully.
Gideon cannot breathe.
She’s used to Harrow’s silence; to her dark glances, when no one else is paying attention to them, to her pursed lips every time Gideon makes a dumb joke, to her heavy sighs, the moment they’re left alone and there’s nothing to talk about. What could they talk about anyway? If there’s one thing Gideon knows by now is how fucking terrible they are at talking…
She is not used to Harrow’s voice wavering, and dipping in a hollow note every time their eyes meet across the room: she’s not used to Harrow talking about that night, for the first time since it happened.
“I struggle with people. It might come across as some sort of news, I guess—,” Harrow pauses when light waves of laughter fill up the room, “I always had trouble trusting people around me. I never trusted anyone, not even myself most times—,” she smiles sadly, giving the whole gang a moment of deep poignancy.
“But there was one person— Someone that I never had a doubt on. One constant in my life that I have always taken for granted.” Harrow’s voice is trembling now, and fuck, what is she even talking about? Gideon has never felt her intestines as much as in this exact moment: they’re twisting, and twisting again, tangling in a heavy knot that travels from the depth of her torso, all the way up to her throat.
Harrow is not looking at anyone now, her eyes pointed down at her hands.
“I went to her one day. I asked her if she could show me what the big deal was.”
She shrugs a bit, “There were rumours going around. She had some experience with other girls, and she was bragging about it in class most often then not…but—” Harrow, swallowing a bit, props her head on a hand, her elbow digging softly in the armrest.
“I knew it wasn’t true. They were just…stupid rumours that she was humouring to feel better about an incredibly toxic relationship.”
Gideon swallows, while a loud silence grows in the room as the group starts to put pieces of a puzzle together.
But Harrow seems to be in another dimension now. Away from this swanky living room, and back to that stupid night and their stupid choices.
“Anyway—,” Harrow continues, shaking her head again, “She was good. Sweet. Smart, God…such a smart-ass. Witty.” Then in a softer voice. “She was the best thing that ever came out of our stupid town…” Harrow keeps talking, but she seems to be talking to herself, more than to anyone in the room.
Gideon’s intestines decide that it’s time to twist again and tighten their knots around her heart. And squeeze.
“I was surprised when she accepted to come over to my place. I thought, maybe… she wanted it, too…maybe, she actually wanted to be with me, that way.”
Her words feel like cotton to Gideon’s ears.
What in the absolute fuck is Harrow talking about? That…that’s not true. That cannot possibly be true.
“When she came over, I was way too into my own head.” Harrow’s eyes cloud just a bit. “We got to my room, and—,” She licks her lips, and traps her bottom one between her teeth for just one second.
“She was—a lot to handle, on any given day. Strong. Handsome. And…” Harrow snorts, hiding her face in her hands, while Gideon looks at her as if a second head just popped up from her neck. “And I’ve always been scrawny, and bony. But for once, I didn’t want to think about appearance, I just wanted to feel, and—,” Gideon swears she hears a sob, but Harrow is smiling, “…I just wanted to feel her, without thinking of how I could ever compare to— well, it doesn’t matter, now. ”
Harrow is looking at her golden eyes now, locked as if no one else is there. Just the two of them.
“Kissing her was—,” Her head dips and her hand moves up to scratch her scalp before a defeated laugh escapes from her lips, “It was all I could’ve ever imagined. And so much more than I could handle.”
Gideon's eyes widen like saucers, then turn to fissures right after, not believing her own ears.
Bullshit. This is bullshit!
Harrow laughs again, before adding, “For a first kiss, I guess I wasn’t prepared to have such an impetuosity, though. I— I didn’t kiss back, not straight away, anyway. I think I didn’t even blink my eyes for quite some time.” She smiles and glances back at Gideon. “You kissed me like you wanted to eat me. I had no idea how to handle something like that, Griddle.”
All pretences drop as Harrow starts speaking directly at Gideon, never looking anywhere other than at her eyes.
“I don’t think I even realised you were helping me out my clothes until I was completely naked beneath you. Do you have a single idea how that felt, Griddle?” She asks, waiting for a reply for a few moments.
Gideon is not sure if she’s actually waiting for her to reply with words, but her head shakes side to side, in disbelief.
“To be completely vulnerable, while you were still wearing your armour, kissing me like you couldn’t get enough of my mouth?”
Gideon’s eyes are as wide as saucers by now: this…this cannot be real. Where the hell is this coming from?
“I knew you weren’t as experienced as you were bragging about in the hallways. You can say what you want, Griddle, but I have known you since birth. I can read you like an open book. I know the signs of you lying by omission. I knew you were lying about ‘a bunch of girls’, by simply looking your way once when people were asking about them.”
Then she tilts her head a little, her lips stitching in an empty smile. And she breaks Gideon over and over.
“You honestly think I asked you to fuck me because I wanted to know what it felt like? To get it over with?” Harrow’s eyes are hard and black as ever. “I asked you to be my first. I wanted you to touch me for the first time, and no one else.”
Gideon feels her words like punches to the guts. She struggles to breathe, and feels her eyes cloud over with unshed sorrow.
“I started to panic, when you tried to go down on me, and I know that wasn’t my best moment, Griddle,” Harrow swallows while nodding her head. “I got overwhelmed, and—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harrow’s eyes are fucking wet now, what the fuck. “I just wanted you next to me, Nav. And I couldn’t breath, I was so far inside my own head, I just needed—,” Harrow stops abruptly, and takes a deep breath.
“I just couldn’t wait another second. And…I know I wasn’t ready to take you. It hurt to have you inside of me but—” God, this is how Gideon dies. “I needed you like that, Griddle. I—I just couldn’t have waited any longer.” Harrow finally looks away, blinking rapidly, while Gideon can barely move her eyes away from her at all.
“Do you want me to apologise, Nav? Do you need me to say sorry for the terrible experience it was for you?” She says, bringing her eyes back to Gideon’s golden ones, full of tears.
Harrowhark shakes her head, not even pretending to be waiting for Gideon’s answer.
“Let me tell you one thing.” She stands up from her spot next to Ianthe and grabs her jacket on the arm of the sofa.
“I’ve been such a fool, for thinking you cherished that night just as much as I do. That is my mistake, I should’ve known better. I have to thank you for your candour.” She smiles, her face contorted in a devastatingly sad expression. “Thank you for calling it the worst lay of your life. That makes me understand many things, now, in retrospect.” Harrow’s voice is hard, cold, and wounded.
As she looks into Gideon’s soul, one stupid coffee table standing between them, and a room full of people as an audience, Harrow holds her head high, squares her shoulders and tightens her fists so firmly next to her hips that Gideon is almost afraid she’ll hurt herself.
“You can tell all our friends how bad it was for you. Poor Gideon Nav, so wanted by her detested childhood friend she can barely stand it,” Gideon has not heard Harrow’s voice turn so vicious in a very long time, and she starts to taste blood in her mouth, “but you will not manage to ruin my first time with you like that.”
Harrow puts her jacket on and shakes her head once more.
“I wanted you to be my first, because I trusted you, Nav. I cherish the memory of our night together, even though I knew from the very moment you left me behind how much you regretted it.” Her voice breaks, but not a single tear spills from her eyes. “I cherished it until today, and I will not let you destroy that memory with your disgusting comments.”
Harrow breathes deeply, then looks at Gideon one more time.
“Just—, fuck you, Griddle.”
She then turns towards the door, taking her leave without looking back.
There’s silence in the living room.
It’s deafening.
Gideon is up and running the second she hears the door closing behind Harrow, not even bothering to look around at everyone’s shocked faces.
*
Running after Harrow was a decision that her body took before consulting her brain.
It’s something that she cannot really explain other than: ‘Fuck no! Where the fuck is she going now?!’ then feeling her legs taking big strides to run after Harrowhark Nonagesimus, of all people.
She moves without giving much of a thought about what is the purpose, not even bothering about what she left behind, or the entire room full of flabbergasted people.
Gideon has no idea why she’s going after her.
For what? Maybe screaming at her a bit, just to prove a point. Or maybe, to ask what the hell she was talking about just a second ago? Maybe.
She is not thinking clearly, that’s for sure.
But in all honesty, how would you react if you were in her shoes, anyway?
She’s…not sure what the fuck just happened. One moment she was remembering how powerless and incapable she had felt one night long time ago, and the moment after she was listening to Harrow lie about that same night to humiliate her even further in front of everyone?
Fuck no! Not happening!
They were going to talk this shit out, once and for all.
Gideon spots her twenty seconds into the run, just a moment after Harrow entered the car and slammed her door.
And again, without really thinking, Gideon moves to the passenger side of Harrow’s car in two long steps, and pulls the handle to enter.
When the handle doesn’t budge, all the frustration she feels boiling at the pit of her stomach starts to erupt.
“Open the car! Right now!” She knocks on the window, loudly.
Harrow has her head pressed on the steering wheel, and she’s not looking at Gideon. She’s just taking deep breaths without really acknowledging Gideon’s presence at all.
Gideon, on the other side, is calmly freaking the fuck out: her eyes fix right ahead towards the black sky, heavy with clouds full of rain, and flashes of lightning in the far distance.
She keeps knocking on the window, squaring her shoulders with resolution.
“We’re going to talk about this shit, Nonagesimus! Like it or not!”
Harrow, without moving her head from the steering wheel, gives her the middle finger.
“Very fucking mature, Harrowhark,” she says, throwing her hands in the air.
An unmistakable, rhythmic ticking that resonates on the windows and on the asphalt in the street starts to fill Gideon’s ears. She turns her nose up, towards the clouds, and fresh raindrops fall on her forehead.
“For fuck’s sake! Can you open the car, Harrow?” She tries again, one hand on the handle, the other on the car roof.
Harrow drops her middle finger but doesn’t budge yet. Gideon feels a couple of raindrops fall on her neck and down the neckline of her t-shirt.
“We need to talk about it, Nonagesimus. Open the car.”
“Leave me alone, Nav,” Harrow replies with a low voice, head bent on the steering wheel, eyes closed, while Gideon's heart hammers to the point where she’s sure even the tiny gremlin can hear it from inside the vehicle.
“Fuck, no!” Gideon answers, her face headset in front of her, looking at the dark driveway they’re parked in. “You can open this door now to talk about it here, or I can take my bike and follow you to your place, and talk about it there. Your choice!”
Gideon hears a loud groan, then Harrow throws an arm towards Gideon’s side and pulls the handle to open the door.
Without missing a single second, Gideon squeezes inside the car, right before the few raindrops that were falling so far, start to shower heavily on the car.
Right on time, she thinks.
“Thanks.”
Harrow, from her bent position over the steering wheel, grumbles a half-assed, “Fuck you, Nav.”
“Again. Very mature, congratulations.”
That gets Harrow to straighten up in her seat, glaring at Gideon with a fury she hasn’t seen in a long time.
“Fuck you, Nav!!” She screams now, “is it so difficult to understand that I don’t want to talk to you?! That I want you to leave me alone?!”
Gideon stays quiet, looking at Harrow’s corrugated expression, and rigid posture.
“I just made a fool of myself in front of all our friends. Please, get out of my fucking car before I have a mental breakdown!” Harrow’s voice gets louder with each word, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turn white, staring straight ahead, and not deigning Gideon with a further glance.
“Go ahead, we can have a mental breakdown together. I gotcha, night boss.” Gideon’s voice is rough, but there’s a bite behind the stupid nicknames she uses.
Harrow deflates, dropping her head once more on the steering wheel.
“I— Please, Nav. I don’t have the energy for any more of this, tonight,” she begs, her voice dragging with a sadness that is so fucking typical of Harrow, Gideon grits her teeth in pain.
But if there’s one thing that Gideon can be defined as, that’s fucking stubborn.
“Listen, I’m not going to let this go. No fucking way. If you think I will let you humiliate me like that and walk scot free, you have lost your mind.” Gideon says, turning her head towards Harrow, “Nuh-uh, not happening, sweet-cheeks. Forget about it.”
When Harrow turns her head to Gideon, a deep uncontrolled fury burns behind Harrow’s eyes and Gideon's breath gets knocked right out of her lungs.
“I humiliated you?!” She screams, looking at Gideon like she just lost her goddamn mind.
“YES!” Gideon screams back, even more loudly, “You’re so full of shit! You think you can say whatever the fuck you want, Harrow?!”
“What are you even talking about, Nav?!”
“Your goddamned lies, Harrow! That’s what I’m talking about!” She roars, her body twisting to face Harrow.
“When did I lie, Nav?! When?!”
“You just wanted someone to get it over with! You never wanted me, Harrow, so why the fuck would you say that?!”
Harrow averts her eyes, looking up to the car roof, and covering her face with her hands.
Gideon continues. “You made me look like an asshole in front of all our friends, and you lied all through!”
“I didn’t lie about a single thing, Nav,” Harrow grits through her teeth and hands, her words half muffled.
Gideon laughs, unable to contain herself.
“Oh yeah? So let me understand. You wanted me so much that you jumped on Alecto’s dick three days after we hooked up.”
Harrow drops her hands and looks at Gideon like she just stabbed her heart. Right back atcha, bitch, Gideon thinks.
“Alecto was there for me when you disappeared,” she whispers, her tone betraying how much Gideon hurt her with her words.
But Gideon is done for. She opened a wound she barely patched up so far, even after years now. So, swallowing a bitter knot down her throat, she scoffs.
“Right, of course.”
Gideon’s heart is thundering just as loudly as the rain on the car roof, but she cannot stop from saying what she is thinking now.
“You know what, Harrow? You can admit that you had an awful time with me that night and jumped to the next available bitch right after. We tried, it didn’t work, we were just not compatible. That is totally fine, okay? I’ve made my peace with that a long fucking time ago!”
Then, with gritted teeth, and rage burning hot just like when she saw Harrow and Alecto the very first time, she goes for the jugular, “But don’t you fucking dare saying that you wanted me, when you went to her right after. I saw her holding your hand the following Monday, Nonagesimus!”
Harrow’s eyes are full of tears now and, fuck, Gideon knows there’s no way back now. No way they can spend time pretending they just don’t care about each other. There’s no way they can go back to spending time with the rest of the group. It’s done now.
“Alecto and I weren’t together, Nav,” Harrow starts, eyes so wide and wet and red.
“Oh, bullshit!”
“We didn’t get together until months later, you prick!”
“I saw her holding your hand, and carrying your books, and caressing your cheek, and you have the guts to tell me you weren’t together?!”
“She was consoling me because I didn’t know how to approach you after you clearly regretted sleeping with me!”
“Oh fuck you, Harrowhark!” She screams, slumping on the carseat.
“How dare you!” Harrow twists in her seat, looking like she just wants to tear Gideon apart. “You spent the better part of the last six years proudly fucking any girl that willingly opened her legs for you, and for what?! To make me jealous of how the great Gideon Nav can get anyone she wants, and still act like a decent human being to all her hookups apart from me?! You think I didn’t notice I was the only one you regretted? Alecto consoled me and loved me when you decided I was simply too broken to keep around!”
Gideon cannot fucking believe her own ears.
“Alecto didn’t fucking love you, Harrow!” Gideon responds, “She was an old, creepy bitch that used you until she got enough, then left you behind.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Gideon realises her mistake.
“Just like you did, you mean?” Harrow’s voice is cold, and cutting, and Gideon avoids her eyes, guilty. Yeah, she can hear the hypocrisy in her words. “You were my only friend! I trusted you, and you left me behind. Alecto helped me when I didn’t know how to handle your regret.”
Gideon hears Harrow’s laugh then. Empty and sad. Like a sucker punch to her stomach. “And now I learn that you were sharing the details of our night together with Coronabeth Tridentarius, of all people! You humiliated me tonight, and every night since you went and blabbed to her without my knowledge.”
Gideon stops herself from saying anything further. For a moment, she is actually speechless; it had been so long since they had actually talked about what had happened between them that she hadn’t been expecting any of this to come up at all. Dropping her shoulders, Gideon feels like their conversation is so long due, that the bitterness and anger they have been stewing on for so long, is now erupting in all directions.
The rain keeps hitting the asphalt incessantly, giving their argument a natural and fitting soundtrack, thanks to the sound thunders in the distance.
What a fucking mess… she thinks, throwing her head against the headrest.
She hears Harrow exhale slowly, next to her. Even without saying another word, Gideon knows they both feel utterly defeated by the whole argument.
“I didn’t lie. Not once, Nav.” Gideon shakes her head. Then, with the softest voice so far, “And I don’t regret anything. Not a single moment we spent together that night.”
“Harrow, —.”
“You can believe whatever you want. I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise.”
Gideon wants to respond, but her throat is so tight, and her vocal cords so knotted together, that she’s forced to stay quiet. She sees Harrow’s throat bob after swallowing down, then she nods her head for a second as if she’s convincing herself of something.
“I will drive you home now. I don’t think you should ride your bike in these conditions.”
Gideon is not sure if Harrow means the rain, or the emotional turmoil she’s experiencing right now.
“Okay.” She breathes out, nonetheless, nodding her head gratefully.
Harrow sighs heavily, turns the keys in the ignition, and moves to put her seatbelt on, without looking at Gideon even once.
They drive in silence, keeping their eyes on the road religiously.
Gideon's heart doesn’t seem to understand that it cannot keep going at that rate, but the scent in Harrow’s car doesn’t seem to help. Fuck, it smells so much like Harrow, and at the same time, not enough. How do you keep your body in check, when there are almost ten years of longing and unrequited feelings coming back to the surface?
Gideon swallows and brushes her clammy hands on her jeans.
The car slows and speeds up, stopping at a red signal, then singling for a turn, and then picking up the speed again.
Harrow is a phenomenal driver: the car moves smoothly, continuously, in a soft dance in the dark night. The rain, heavy and incessant, keeps their company, together with the soft and repetitive noise of the windshields.
She doesn’t even realise that they’re basically under her building already until Harrow is parking her car in an empty spot not too far away from the main entrance.
Shit.
Is this how they’re ending the night? Fuck, no, they can’t just end up being upset and defeated like this. They’ll never get back from this, if they don’t make up about it!
Gideon needs to think. And fast.
Harrow turns the engine off and puts her head back on the steering wheel once more.
Gideon wants to say something. Anything! But she stops, because for the first time since they left the Tridentarius apartment, they’re really looking at each other without screaming words, and Gideon’s breath stops between her teeth.
Fuck, her body is betraying her through and through.
Years and years of repressed feelings towards the trash gremlin in front of her, and now she can barely put any coherent thoughts together.
Gideon takes a hard breath, at the same time Harrow sighs heavily.
“Go home, Nav…”
“Come up with me.”
They speak simultaneously.
“We’re nowhere near done with this conversation, Harrowhark,” is Gideon’s first response, while Harrow shakes her head in disbelief.
“What else is left to say?” Harrow asks, keeping her head bent, and making Gideon’s heart hurt.
“We haven’t talked in a long time, Harrow. I don’t want to end the night like this,” she tries, with a soft voice.
“Nav, I’m tired…”
“Then you shouldn’t drive. Come upstairs.”
“I don’t want to keep arguing…”
“Same. I’ll drop the weapons, I swear. I just…wanna talk. Like we were supposed to years ago.”
“Isn’t it a bit too late to talk now?” Harrows asks, and Gideon looks at the digital watch, flashing in neon green 00:12am.
Harrow notices, and with a sad smile, “Not what I meant, Nav…”
“Come upstairs,” Gideon repeats, nodding her head to convince her.
Harrow hides her face in her hands, breathing through with a huff. Gideon feels her heart thundering. If she lets her go now, it’s done. And it can’t be done, okay?
She can handle barely talking, she can handle the hidden glances, and feeling like they’re always on edge. But, fuck, she’s so fucking scared now of losing that too.
“Is it too late, Harrow?” She asks, heart in her throat, hoping for one answer only. “You really want to end the night like this?”
Harrow shakes her head, but she doesn’t meet Gideon’s eyes. In a way, Gideon feels like a huge weight was lifted from her chest, while something tight and hot keeps her guts in a twist.
“Then…come up with me.”
“Why, Nav? Why would I do that, after everything we said already?”
And Gideon opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. She ends up shrugging her shoulders, and looking at Harrow, directly into her dark eyes.
“Because I’m asking you to.”