rewritten: January-May 2025

Seriously? Maeve jolted awake, her mood sour as she heard relentless knocking on her dorm door. She let out a frustrated groan, especially since her bunkmate Olive hadn't budged an inch to check who was interrupting their peace. The darkness outside was thick, and the rain was pouring down in buckets. Thunder rumbled ominously from the storm clouds above, while the rain hammered against the window and fire escape, sounding almost like hail – definitely a recipe for a headache.

Just perfect.

"Olive," she called out, still half-asleep. "Olive! There's someone at the door!"

Olive merely rolled over with a groan, mumbling something that sounded like, "Get it yourself."

Maeve buried her head deeper into her pillow, letting out a frustrated groan as she angrily kicked off her blanket. With a swift motion, she tossed her pillow aside and climbed out of bed, stomping her way to the door. She silently wished that whoever was on the other side had a really good reason for interrupting her sleep. She was definitely not in the mood for any childish antics.

As she stepped into the cool air, goosebumps prickled her arms and legs. Just as she reached the door, another knock echoed, this time louder than before.

"Great, just what I needed..." she muttered, running a hand through her messy hair.

The doorknob and lock felt icy against her skin as she fumbled with the mechanism, twisting it with a mix of frustration and urgency. A wave of irritation surged within her, almost too much to bear. As she cracked the door open, the bright light from the hallway made her eyes sting. Just as the door opened a fraction, it was suddenly shoved wider, sending her stumbling back as a tall figure slipped inside.

"What the hell — Jordan?"

She was ready to unleash a torrent of anger at the unexpected intruder, but the moment she laid eyes on him, her breath caught in her throat. Words escaped her as her mouth went dry. She stood frozen, watching him close the door behind him with an unintentional slam. She was too stunned to check if Olive had stirred. Deep down, she knew her friend would still be fast asleep; nothing short of a storm could rouse that girl.

How long had it been?

Forty-eight days, a quiet voice in her mind whispered.

"Hey, Mariposa." He had shot up, looking at least half a foot taller. A bit of stubble adorned his face, enhancing his developing features and giving him a more mature appearance. "How have you been?"

Maeve finally managed to steady her breathing. Was it anger she felt? Or perhaps relief? A whirlwind of emotions swirled within her, making it hard to settle on just one. Her heart raced, and warmth flooded her eyes. There he stood, grinning in a way she had longed to see. She clenched her jaw. His face and clothes were smeared with mud and rainwater. Her gaze roamed over him, absorbing every change. For instance, his once-luscious dark curls had been chopped into a harsh buzzcut. Shame. He had such beautiful hair.

Jordan's eyes were locked onto hers, filled with intensity. His brows furrowed, and his lips formed a tight line. It was as if he had something to say but was struggling to find the words. She could see the tension and fear reflected in his gaze. A part of her felt a twinge of sympathy, but then she recalled how he had vanished without a trace. He had every reason to be scared, she thought.

"Mae?"

She found herself rushing toward him, almost against her will, but she embraced the impulse. Initially fueled by anger, she envisioned landing a punch, but that fury quickly transformed into a wave of relief, washing away any thoughts of violence. As her body met his, it felt heavy, and wrapped her arms around his body, holding tightly. She clutched him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

The fear of losing him again overwhelmed the anger.

"You're alive," she whispered.

His clothes were soaked from the rain, giving off a foul odor, as if he'd been wallowing in filth. Perhaps he had been.

"I'm alive," he repeated gently, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry for making you worry, mariposa."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Maeve hissed, her voice a mix of shock and anger as she pushed him away forcefully.

"Me? What about you? I thought you'd be glad to see me!" He gestured between them, and then shoved his hands into his pockets.

She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. Just breathe, just breathe. Turning away, she ran her fingers through her messy hair. After a brief moment, she pivoted back to him, her eyes blazing with intensity.

"You can't just waltz back in here after a month and think everything will be fine! I didn't even get an explanation or a proper goodbye!" Maeve planted her fists on her hips, fighting back her tears as she steeled herself with anger.

Jordan wiped his brow, muttering something under his breath. "Look, I had...a lot on my plate; I never meant to hurt you."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. "So, you couldn't have just told me you were leaving? Or - or maybe left a note? Jordan, I thought you were in trouble, or worse: infected or dead. Yeah, that didn't hurt at all."

"Maeve, please, just let me —"

The top bunk creaked, interrupting them. Olive stirred in her sleep, turning away from them. The bed shifted one last time before she settled back into slumber. They paused for a moment, ensuring the girl was truly asleep before continuing.

"I never meant to hurt you." Jordan's voice was low, filled with regret.

Maeve inhaled deeply, turning her gaze away and wrapping her arms around herself. She avoided looking at him, her eyes drifting to her messy bed, which was likely cold by now. Stealing a glance at Jordan, who was now exploring her side of the room, she sighed. She wanted to trust him, to listen so they could find happiness again, but it was impossible to trust someone who just walked away. The suddenness of his absence had been a breaking point for her. His things were there, but he was not. If only he'd left something behind – a note or anything – maybe it wouldn't have felt, and was feeling like she was grappling a thousand butterflies in her stomach. Letting go of that pain was incredibly hard. For three weeks, she'd been silent, barely eating, and consumed with the fear Jordan was gone for good. It nearly shattered her.

Deep down, she wanted to forgive him, to leap into his arms and kiss him all over. It seemed impossible before; the pain in her heart made it hard to accept an apology so readily.

"So...care to explain where you've been?" Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper, but he turned to meet her gaze.

He let out a heavy sigh, scanning the room nervously before pulling a chain from beneath his shirt. It held a quarter-sized pendant – a dog tag. He unclipped it and offered it to her.

"You're a Firefly?" She stared in shock as she recognized the infamous symbol, gingerly turning the pendant over in her fingers.

"That's why I was away for so long...they...I, it's complicated."

Disbelief washed over her again, then followed by disappointment, and then finally a heavy weight settled in her chest. A Firefly. Her thumb traced the indentation of his name and tag number, and she frowned.

"You still have it."

Maeve, lost in thought, realized Jordan was at her desk, gesturing toward the corkboard on the wall. It was adorned with a multitude of Polaroid snapshots. His finger landed on one particular photo, which he pulled from the board, a grin spreading across his face. As she caught sight of the image, memories flooded back from a year ago when she first entered the physical training phase and had been dating Jordan for half the year before. They had been part of a training exercise with around thirty other cadets when a mud fight suddenly erupted. She'd been bombarded with mud, and it took her an entire hour in the shower to scrub it all off. The Polaroid captured their muddy but beaming faces.

Though it was very chaotic, it was a cherished memory.

Jordan waved the picture playfully. "I'll admit, it wasn't my finest hour. But it was pretty funny watching you take down Ian for being a dick was priceless."

"Congratulations on becoming a Firefly." She brushed him off coldly, stepping closer to him and placing his tag back into his hand. With a swift motion, she reclaimed the photo and returned it to its spot on the board.

"I can explain everything, Mae," he said, moving closer, eager to persuade her. He glanced between her and Olive, who was peacefully asleep. "But we need to talk somewhere private."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Maeve glared. "I've got drills in the morning. You do remember those right? Where we train to kill Fireflies."

Jordan clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I could care less about your stupid drills. Comb out your rat's nest and get dressed."

She shot him a fierce look at his comment about her messy hair, then glance down at the shorts that clung to her thighs and the old tank top she wore to sleep. She was acutely aware of gaze roaming over her.

With a resigned sigh, she muttered to herself. Arguing with him would only be a waste of energy. "Fine, whatever." She rolled her eyes and brushed past him toward her closest. She fished out a bra, a better-conditioned shirt, and her favorite jeans, all while feeling his eyes on her.

"This ain't a damn peep show."

"Sorry." He didn't sound the least bit sorry.

Smug jerkface.