𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍
— 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 —

     𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 not understand the process her body is undergoing in the unfolding moments (they pass in what seems to be an eternity); though she will not mention her emotions aloud to the grinning boy that rests comfortably beside her in the bed of his aging truck, the earth feels as though it will crumble below her feet at any given second. This day was never supposed to come, she thinks to herself, placing her cold fingers against her feverishly warm forehead — the girl can no longer recall the earlier happenings of this morning. Her memory is slowly desiccating, much like the afternoon sky had only hours ago. Serenity is unaware of how she made it to the outside theater, and can no longer fathom that she and Paul strolled in the park for a short period, venturing through the trees with a vintage camera before arriving at this destination. But merely minutes ago, she was enjoying a salad that the boy had prepared for her while speaking about their experiences with differing genres of cinema. Now, her ears ring with uncertainty and her skull aches with confusion and disappointment . . . was this what she was always meant to become? A girl, pitied by all that she met, who eventually couldn't remember anything?

As Paul removes his attention from the large screen to admire Serenity's silken countenance, he is shaken to find that her features are laced with fright as she clutches her ears and stares at the sky with wide eyes. "Serenity?" He questions slowly, chest filling with dread as his own palms replace hers in an attempt to avert her attention. "Hey, everything is going to be alright, focus on me. What's going on, sweetheart?" The shapeshifter hadn't meant to use a term of endearment for the girl he barely knew, but his heart spoke on its own accord as his hands, too, begin to shake with dread.

"I'm starting to forget," she flinches at the sound of her own voice, choking with words that refuse escape her soft lips. "I can't believe it, my memories are leaving me."

Paul's lips part in concentration, and he attempts to hold back a wince. "What do you mean, Serenity?" All of the portions of his mind work together to create a reasonable explanation for her words — and yet he still falls short of an answer, only prevailing with even more questions than the single one he began with. His imprint's heartbeat is quick, every instinct within his chest employs him to soothe her in any way possible. But how can he bring her peace when he has none of his own? He understands nothing about these circumstances . . . what is happening to her? In moments, she will fall apart within his arms.

The blonde girl closes her eyes, and imagines that she is back in her bed at the Reagan home; she can feel the silk sheets between her fingertips, and remembers the soft sounds from the night animals just below the balcony. But Paul is there with her, a gentle voice whispering in her ear that he is here and he isn't leaving. He would never leave his soul mate behind like he had before. And finally, as she releases a longing breath of comfort, she relaxes into his careful hold. When her eyes of emerald find his of deep sienna, her figure ceases the endless shaking, and all of her previous fears are washed away. It's as if the tides of La Push Beach had swept over the rocks of her conscious, leaving no residue of worry behind.

The moon smiles down upon the couple, and averts her eyes — this moment belongs to them, and perhaps if she wishes hard enough upon the morning sunrise to come, they will stay in it forever. This fragment, no matter how miniature, is theirs.

Her voice is fragile when he runs his fingers over her flushed cheeks, searching for any sign of physical harm. "How did you do that?" She asks, barely audible over the film's volume. "How did you calm me?"

With a sigh of relief, he ducks his face for a brief second. "You worried me, I didn't know what to do. Thank goodness you're alright." He doesn't remove his palms just yet . . . perhaps she wouldn't mind if he left them for a moment longer. His skin evokes feelings that she has never before known — one stronger than what she understands to be compassion.

"I'm so sorry," Serenity apologizes, pulling away from his grasp to sink against the blanket he had packed for them. "I ruined everything you planned, Paul. I just . . . I panicked, and I couldn't control my emotions."

Immediately turning to reassurance, he shakes his head at the disappointed girl. "You didn't ruin anything, that's a promise," his eyes show sincerity, and truth laces his voice. "But if you don't mind me asking, and if you feel comfortable enough to explain, what was affecting you?"

For a short instant, she considers revealing her undeniable fate to him: one day, no matter the tactics of avoidance she employs, her memory will fade to nothing. And, if her case grows in severity in the way she fears it has, she will join her parents that dance among the stars in the night sky as the world sleeps soundly. The most frightening part is the reality that if she does pass, the sun will rise the next morning like it had the day before. Those around her will have to face their lives with grief weighing upon their struggling shoulders, just as she does every waking moment. Serenity Reagan is sure that she was placed upon the soil of the earth to make a difference, a good one. But if this is all she has, these years of impacting one individual at a time, would it be enough? Would the beautiful memories of sitting under the moon be enough to overpower the anguish?

"I'd prefer to spend the next few hours without fearing what comes next," she tilts her head, accepting the temporary blessing that is his presence. "Just the two of us, without a worry in the world."

"I know this is common knowledge, but you're different from people I've met before." He sounds cliché, which is a newfound characteristic compared to his usual temper — but Paul embraces the alteration in his personality. "I have a tendency to . . . lose my temper, over the smallest of things. But there's something to this," he gestures between their figures, not daring to mention their immediate chemistry, "that I haven't experienced before. It's like I'm not scared of getting angry, because I can't."

Serenity makes sense of his intents, blood rushing to the apples of her cheeks from the contentment his compliments bring. "I hope you're insisting that I'm a good influence," her giggles escape before she can refrain.

With a chuckle, he nods and packs the remainder of feta cubes that are now wrapped within a soft napkin. "I'm glad you understand. And I know that I've apologized before, but I find it necessary to tell you I'm sorry." When he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, she reaches out to touch him, but withholds her caring instincts. "Dammit, I'm so sorry for those things that I said to you. I haven't survived a single day since then without guilt practically breaking my shoulders. And I deserve that, because that pain is nothing compared to what I put you through when you were showing me kindness."

Perhaps if Serenity was any less forgiving, she would have forbade him from entering into her life after what he had done. But, luckily enough, his ancestors had blessed him with the most compassionate of angels that was sure to diminish his wicked ways. The girl frowns in a way that only adds to his guilt, "I promise Paul, all is forgiven. Everyone makes mistakes, and their reputation shouldn't be defined by one fault. I'm okay."

Her soothing voice is enough to alleviate his shaking, and the core of his stomach eases from burning with the anger of his previous actions. The fire dwindles, but still remains as a reminder of his own omissions. But when he finally speaks again, there is no fuel within his tone; there is only regret. "How does the leniency come so easily for you?

"I've made a million mistakes, just like any other. 'To exonerate is to give the opportunity of a new beginning' — my mother used to say that a lot, and it impacted me more than she originally imagined." She gently smiles to herself and stares at the stars above, as if she can find them behind the fading clouds if she looks so closely. "I've always wanted to make my parents proud, and I still believe hospitality towards others was their utmost moral. Although the generosity was originally for them, one day I realized that I needed to do it for myself. They were proud of me, regardless of any additional qualities. I suppose you could say that I needed to make myself proud, too."

"And did you?" The boy asks, curious of the thoughts that crowd her mind. "Have you met the expectations you've held for yourself?"
The question is much deeper than what it seems because perhaps he, too, has been struggling with the prospects of his future. Has he consciously required too much for himself? Perhaps the Reagan girl can teach him more lesson than one.

Finding his eyes under the moonlit glow, she tilts her head, "In certain aspects, I've become exactly what I've always wanted to be. But I lose my emotional strength at times, even when I assume I'm in control. Do you ever feel like you're a stranger in your own body?"

"All the time," Paul admits, his fingers tugging at the loose splint tendrils that emerge from the picnic basket, "but one day I'll be better. I won't be unfamiliar to myself because I'll find my purpose and I won't let it go." He doesn't continue, but if he were to, Paul would tell Serenity that she could potentially be the motivation he needs to reach the dreams that have been placed on the back-burner for years.

"I may have only just met you," the girl pauses, turning to completely face him with sincerity, "but it comes with ease when I say you are a lovely person. You may have yet to believe it, but eventually you will come to terms. I am many things, Paul Lahote, but I am not a liar . . . and I would certainly never lie to you."

The silence is enough for them as Paul's lips slowly arch into a grin — Serenity is sure, with every bone within, that she would give anything to ensure he could always be this happy. To ensure that she could always make him this happy. A bond such as this one is newfound territory for her, but as long as the boy ahead of her is within reach, she doesn't mind diving into a pool of uncharted waters with closed eyes. This boy has her heart within his shaking hands.

"I would really love to take you out again, Serenity." Paul's honesty makes the cold, lingering air around them come alive with warmth. After running his fingers through his tousled hair, he is slow to take her hand within his own. This is what it feels like to be whole again, to find his other half and finally be complete. "We might have completely disregarded the movie," he chuckles, her eyes glowing when giggles escape her lips, "and let's both take a second to admit that I could have been more creative . . . but there's no one I'd rather not watch a movie with."

The seconds when her fingers intertwine with his are enough to make his heart skip a beat. Paul Lahote has successfully distracted Serenity Reagan from the carelessness and cruelty of the world, if only for a few minutes. "What more could I ask for? Of course I'll go out with you again, Paul."

And though she can't quite place the feeling that has been unwavering since the second they saw one another, her heart has no doubts about where it lies.

Paul Lahote is the home for Serenity Reagan's heart.

❝ this is shorter than most chapters,
but it's all of the characterization i wanted
to fit in just before the real stuff starts
happening! this fluff is what i LIVE for. ❞