"It's vogue, right?"

Summer placed her hands on her hips, dimples poking out beneath her sunshine smile. Paired with lips painted red, the dimples sprinkled specks of a sardonic glimmer onto her expression. The indentations were a child's. Summer Bishil at nine years old, flashing the dents in her cheeks with every giggle. The lips - flaming red and a sigil of womanhood - were Summer Bishil at twenty-one. Grown. A stranger to her childhood but for the natural leeches around her smile that refused to say goodbye.

"Summer," Bellona sighed, shrinking further into the couch cushions beneath her. "You're in law school. You can't say 'vogue' anymore."

Another leech that clung tight. This time, it was to her speech.

The blonde's bottom lip poked out. "Why not?"

Bellona forced her eyes to the shirt Summer wore - the item that her friend had declared to be 'vogue' in the first place. It was a variation of a halter top, not unlike the ones that her favorite celebrities wore. The top was a rusty yellow, exuding a soft blend of leftover 90's grunge and modern pops of color. It was made complete by a shoelace weaving that held the neckline together - holes on either side of the fabric with string lacing itself between the punctures.

"Because you're a few semesters away from being a lawyer," Bellona said. "And 'vogue' is slang that you used when you were twelve."

Bellona hadn't particularly liked her friend's shirt. The style was disjunctured, especially when paired with her black mini skirt, and it seemed that the yellow pigment wasn't sure if it wanted to possess a cool tone or a warm one. Yet, she saw how excited her friend was to be adorned with the tight-fitting garment, so she would have never vocalized an opinion that defeated that.

"But yes, it is vogue," Bellona finished. She disguised the white lie with the white flash of her smile, hoping the two were close enough in their lack of color that it would fool Summer.

Summer let out a huff that was a little too grandeur and flopped down onto the cushion by her friend. "Good. Because I literally have nothing else to wear."

The corner of Bell's peach-painted lips reached upwards. Anyone who truly knew Summer would know that was a lie. The spirited woman grew even more lively when it came to buying and wearing clothes, so much so that they had begun to spill out of her closet and into the kitchen. Bellona had first noticed this when she'd come back from one of her afternoon classes. She'd opened one of the cupboards to reach for a cup, only to find that they had been relocated to make room for folded stacks of Summer's blouses.

"What are you going to wear?" Summer hummed, eyes glancing over Bellona's black yoga pants and oversized Stanford tee.

Bellona only shrugged. Despite the fact that she'd been able to force herself to participate in her daily activities, she'd never been able to force herself into normality. Not since her diagnosis.

It wasn't for lack of trying. She'd gone to her classes, spent time with Sam and Summer, and sometimes she even found herself buried in books that she hadn't been able to touch only weeks before. Yet, she couldn't find the embrace of emotion. There was no rush of excitement when she spent the last of her paycheck on a new Joan Didion novel, no anxiety pounding on her heart when she procrastinated an assignment. Not even a fluttering anticipation when she planned her next lunch date with Sam. She'd left her mourning to embrace a shadow-faced nothingness.

And it was all because of the leech nested in the back of her mind. No distraction could make her forget it. So, she could do nothing but place her toes in her own footsteps - ones she'd laid with every hour of her past, molding a routine of motions that she could know in her sleep - the leech sucking at her lifeblood all the while.

Now, the leech had stolen pre-date excitement from her. It was supposed to be a casual date. Sam and Derek were coming over to the apartment that Bellona and Summer shared, and they were all going to order takeout and watch a few movies. She knew she should be exhilarated. She knew she should be getting ready, just as Summer was. She just couldn't.

"I don't know what to wear." Bellona tugged at the bottom of her shirt. It was beginning to fray, so she played with some of the strands.

Summer's face was instantly exuberant, elation radiating from every feature. Without having to exchange a single word, Bellona already knew what the strings of thought trailing its way through the other girl's mind would contain. She allowed herself a slight smile. "Yes, you can pick out an outfit for me." A slight pause ensued, and then she shouted an afterthought. "But nothing too crazy!"

It took mere seconds for Summer to leap to her feet and make her way to Bellona's closet, and mere seconds more for her to return with a pile of clothing in hand. She laid it out on their diminutive coffee table: low rise blue jeans with white embroidery on the pockets, and a tight-fitting white tank top. The top pictured a sketch of a fairy sitting atop a flower. It was odd, yes, but one of her favorite shirts to wear.

"You don't think it's too casual?" Bellona asked, knowing she didn't have the energy to care, even if it was.

Summer shook her head ardently. "No. Just the right amount."

Bellona remained still for a few seconds, scrutinizing the outfit that lay before her. It was much better than the clothes she was wearing then, and it was her favorite shirt. She grabbed the garments and walked to the bathroom to change.

She hadn't thought she'd been in there for long - it had to have been five minutes at the most, by the time she finished pulling her unruly hair back into a low ponytail. And yet, when she cracked the door open to exit, there they were: Sam and Derek. Derek lounged on the couch next to Summer as if he'd been there all along, and Sam remained by the door as if he was still deciding whether or not he wanted to enter.

Bellona opened the door to the bathroom wider, and his disposition shifted. A spark flickered in his eyes, as if someone had struck a match against the emerald glow of his eyes. As if they needed to be brightened. Sam's eyes shone fiercer than any Bellona had ever seen, whether his heart desired a ferocity or his habitual gentleness. They didn't need help with illuminating the room around him, yet it appeared her entrance had helped him nonetheless.

"Hey." Sam grinned. His sneakers scuffed across the tile as he took a few steps forward.

Bellona's lips parted to answer, but before she could voice a response, Summer interrupted. "I was just telling him about your Harry Potter shrine."

Bellona's cheeks flushed. She knew Summer meant well. The words had left the girl's mouth in an excited flurry, likely in an attempt to be a good friend to Bellona by building conversation with Sam, but to refer to her collection as a shrine? It was little short of humiliating.

Sam must have noticed the hues of embarrassment circulating beneath her skin, because he offered a quick laugh to patch the bright red wound. "It sounds pretty cool. I'd like to see it sometime, if that's okay with you."

"Oh, um..." Bellona's eyes drifted down, pulling at the hem of her tank until it reached the top of her jeans. "Maybe in a bit."

Summer leapt to her feet. "Right now, we need to have a little fun."

She finished with a pointed look at Bellona. They both had known what this night was truly about from the moment they'd planned it: a part two of the first double date they'd all had, in which they'd had to leave as soon as they'd gotten there to take Summer home.

It had been Summer's goal from the start to make sure Bellona had fun this time. So, as the night passed, Summer kept passing drinks to her friend. If she noticed that the glass in Bellona's hand was even halfway empty, she would prepare another glass to exchange it with, because to Summer, a good time meant a lot of alcohol and an insensible mind.

Bellona knew all of this. She knew the intentions that lingered in the past of each new cup that she found herself holding, and any other night, she would've denied them. She often would have denied the first cup, even, preferring to be nothing less than astute in the company of Sam. Yet, with every laugh that bubbled in coherence with the bubbles in her drink, she took a sip. She found that a drink could accompany almost anything, from board games to television shows and even the new dance game Summer had bought a week ago.

If she'd consumed a few less ounces, she would've found herself wishing she hadn't consumed any at all. Then, she would've noticed Sam's hands. Sam's hands that grew nearer with every drink. He'd accepted a few of Summer's concoctions as well, but not so many as Bellona had, and certainly not enough that his hands were placed on her shoulders in a state of complete consciousness. Every time she stumbled, there was a hand to meet her. Every time she leered a little too far to one side, there was a hand to catch her.

She hadn't even been vigilant enough to notice it. Later, she figured that was why she'd allowed him to lead him into her room at no less than one request.That was the only way she would've found herself alone in there with him - if her mind was scrambled enough to give her the courage to.

She took a deep breath as they entered, Summer and Derek's giggles fading from earshot. Sam's feet stood still at the doorway.

"I'll, uh...I'll leave the door open," he said.

Bellona nodded, too fatigued to appreciate the relief that flooded her body when she collapsed on her mattress. "The shrine's over there," she mumbled, throwing a hand up in the direction of her dresser. "I mean, the collection."

She peeled her eyes open to watch as he ambled across the room, fingertips stroking the top of the books that sat in a row there. A quick laugh fled his lips when he caught sight of her wand replicas.

"It's nice." His eyes remained glued to the array of items that were displayed there. "It's not the weirdest shrine I've ever seen."

Moments passed in silence between the two. It was an imperfect silence, one burdened with the lead of unsureness and wrapped in the gossamer of a blossoming connection, one that was still as soft as silk despite the trepidation that hid beneath.

"Sam." Bellona's voice was like a siren as it broke the quiet.

Moments passed, and if her normal persona hadn't been glossed over with liquor that promised a new posture, she might have been shaking. Every inch of her would quake - her hands, her knees, even the very ligaments that held her insides together.

"I don't think you should be here."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." Sam stumbled back from the dresser, as if something there had poked him.

"No," Bellona asserted. Asserted. A word so unlike her. "No, I mean you shouldn't be here. With me."

More silence. A layer of quiet simmered over the air, but Summer's version of Bellona found that it was something she hated. She'd rather speak, no matter the consequences. No matter the loss that would linger.

She sighed and set her elbows beneath her as a prop. "I'll be gone soon. I know you don't think so, but I do. I don't have long."

Sam brushed his hair roughly to one side, allowing Bellona to see the pieces of his face that usually remained hidden by the clumps of hickory. His eyebrows were pulled together, settling into a frown beneath his broad temple. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Bellona felt a sting in her heart. "I didn't know we were dating."

"Oh." Sam paused. "Well, I'd hoped we were. I mean, I'd assumed so, after..."

Neither of them spoke, and for a moment, Bellona allowed it. She didn't know what to think, and part of her knew that if she had been fully capable of intelligent thought, she still wouldn't be able to find words to say. She almost laughed. Years spent attending Stanford, and she still didn't know enough vocabulary to know how to form a sentence when she was around Sam.

The Winchester boy trudged towards her bed, movements wary. Bellona moved an inch or two to the side, allowing him room to sit next to her.

Her comforter rustled as he sat. "Listen, Bellona. I don't care how long I'm going to be able to be by your side, but I don't care. Every second of it will have been worth it."

This time, the silence wasn't lonely. It was accompanied by a whimper, coming from a woman's lips as if she were a child once more, and then by liquid stains on porcelain cheeks. She wanted Sam. More than she'd ever wanted anything else, she wanted him. It was a joke of the cruelest sorts that neither would be able to have the other for longer than an instant in the long span of life. And that, even though nearly every inch of her wanted to pull him near, there was that one infectious inch inside of her that made her push him away. It was a disease that would not keep to itself.

In those last moments of consciousness, Bellona felt a tug on her shoulder, begging her to fall into Sam. It was his hand. She would oblige. She slunk into the worn gray tee that beset his chest, her head settling atop his folded legs. She hardly had time to take note of a smell she had grown to know - a blend of vanilla and a woodsy cedar - before the intoxication further set in and she nodded off.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just wanted to pop in real quick to say: yes! I know it is the most stagnant plot in all of eternity and I am so so sorry! But literally just two more chapters, maybe three, until there are BIG changes in Bellona and Sam's world, and from then on, I don't think there will be a single slow chapter left in this entire book. I promise it'll be worth it. Love you guys :)