𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓
— 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 —

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓 breathe; the air is too thin, her lungs are restricted from running for such a time, and her body does not seem to work any longer. The thunderstorm fails to cease, bringing down rapid rainfall and blinding Oakley Torine in the process. Perhaps she will run forever, never fully feeling safe or never quite feeling far enough away from Quil Ateara. Though he had been honest with her, and it was the smallest relief that he had not been humiliating her, the Quileute boy was dangerous. He is dangerous and maybe he always will be. The claws on his alterative form were as long as Oakley's fingers, tail the size of her arm, and she could only imagine the damage that his canine teeth could ensue. Her head aches at the thought — he had transformed into a werewolf, a creature that should not exist, let alone be a part of her lover's ancestry and lifestyle. And now she will be forever alone. All of her hopes of telling Quil her true feelings, of dedicating her life to him, have now fallen away like the cracking petals of a decaying rose.

The ghost of her brother runs alongside of her, speaking softly in her ear despite the weather, "Everything will be okay," His voice follows effortlessly, haunting her with what she is already aware of. What she once shared with Quil will become a distant memory — her feelings will dissipate into nothing, and perhaps she will never recover from it. But Graham still foresees a future for the two; one where she can overlook his ability, just as he did hers. Will she ever find peace within her heart and accept the side of Quil that he cannot control? For now, it seems nearly impossible.

Mud is thick beneath her shoes, though it only encourages her to run faster. If the boy had decided to chase her, how long would it take him to close the distance between them? It feels like hours before the Torine twins reach their home, pushing past the entrance door quickly and slamming it behind them. Oakley makes tedious work with the locks that will surely keep any supernatural beings out of her home, and her brother watches. His clothes are dry, his physical state untouched from the storm and the endless jog back. If he could still feel his heart, he knows that it would be heavy. His sister has lost the very thing she had begun to depend on. How will she let Graham go now that Quil is gone?

A weighed gasp falls from her lips, as if she replays those moments over and over within her head. Had she seen correctly? Or is she as mentally unstable as her father insists?

"He became a wolf," her voice, soft but broken, murmurs into the space between them. The rainfall patters against the roof more kindly now, as if to console her for the damage that has been done. It feels as she does, disappointed and overcome with grief. Perhaps the clouds, the wind — all of it — wished that she had stayed. "I - I know what I saw, Graham. But it seems absurd, how would I tell someone that I've seen a werewolf? What would everyone think of me then?" A cry falls from her lips this time and she covers her mouth when new tears begin to fall. "No one would believe me, I would sound like even more of a lunatic. Everything I do is so hopeless, no one takes me seriously."

Graham is seated on the sofa in the parlor now, in the same spot that he favored when the Torine family played board games and sipped on hot chocolate. "There is someone out there who always believed you, no false pretenses." The ghost looks to her, scanning her face of denial, "I told you to run because I was scared too — for you, Oakley. Not because I think he is dangerous, or that I feared he would hurt you. But because of this . . . knowing what it would do to you if you stayed any longer. Would you have lashed out at him? Of course you would. You would have said things that you would regret, and possibly ruin the relationship that both of you deserve."

"How could you say that?" The girl demands, stripping the jacket from her shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor as she trudges through their home. "Who knows what he would have done to me? Neither of us are sure if he has control over that side of himself." Oakley retrieves a new set of clothing from a drawer in her bedroom, discarding her mud-coated shoes and ignoring the obvious mess they make. "I just thought that for once, in the span of these past months, I could be happy."

Graham allows Oakley to slam the door in his face, unwavering. "And you still can be. You just have to have some compassion and understanding, then you can have everything you have ever wanted."

"I could have died!" She exclaims, throwing her hands in exasperation though he cannot see her. "But if I'm being honest, I wish I would have gone with you that night," her voice is barely audible as she changes her clothing and folds her arms over her chest. "I have nothing left now."

"Then what do you have to lose?" Graham waits for her reappearance, leaning against the door. "Why not risk it all for the chance of happiness? Would you rather be miserable for the rest of your life than to try? All I am asking is that you give him a second chance. Let him explain, correct all the assumptions you have made about him, and allow him the opportunity to make you happy. Just stay, Oakley."

When she opens the door, her honey eyes meeting his own, she frowns and wipes at her swollen eyes. "I'm scared, Graham. I fear what he has become, but I fear even more that I will lose him."

Quil had not faltered when she told him that she could see the ghost of her brother — in fact, he had held her hand through the entirety of the retelling and relayed that he didn't think she was crazy. Even her own father hadn't done that. It counted for something, more than something. It made her love him even more. And though she does not tell her brother, she still does. Nothing could make her stop loving him: even this relentless fear that resides in her chest, burning her lungs and intoxicating her thoughts. Even that fearful part of her knows that Quil would never harm her, though she had desperately tried to convince Graham of that.

Perhaps she was only scared of being with something like herself.

Graham runs his fingers through her wet hair, giving his sister a look of sympathy. "Take the night to think about it, you have all the time in the world. But please, for the sake of both of us, do not pass up the chance to be happy."

Oakley nods, settling into reality as she leads him back to the parlor where they settle on the sofa. "Do you still believe he can help you cross over?"

"It's taken much consideration to figure everything out," the Torine boy admits, "but I believe that my fate is intertwined with yours. Yes, Quil is a part of it — as well as his friends and family. They make you a better person and offer you a good future. I think that once your happiness is corrected, I will cross over. But for now, this is my unfinished business: ensuring that you will be okay when I am gone."

"But that doesn't make sense," Oakley argues, searching for the missing pieces in his puzzle. "They are strangers to me, even Quil in a way."

Graham leans a bit closer, a twinkle in his eye that had not been there before, "And yet they bring joy to your life." He settles back into the cushions, imagining how soft they would be if he could truly feel them. He wishes he could remember that feeling. "It has taken them days to make you settle back into your old self, with some minor differences. You're in love now, you admitted it."

"Then why haven't you crossed over yet?" The girl questions further. "If I have been happy and I have a good future, what is holding you back?"

"Another obstacle," the Torine twin sighs, catching his sister's determined glance. Even now, in fear of her reality, Oakley would do anything to help her brother. "Maybe the problem is that your troubles with Quil have not been resolved. None of your life is set in stone yet — you haven't told him the way you feel, nor have you accepted this newfound side of him."

"And then what?" Oakley's voice is nearing its breaking point when she reaches out to him. "We just say goodbye?"

Graham Torine does not answer her question, understanding that it would only hurt her more. The silence that settles is soothing, and only the sound of the rain continues as they sit together, warmly wrapped within the presence of one another for what might be the last time.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It rained at First Beach on the night Oakley met him — she had been crying, she remembers distantly, though now she is unsure why. Graham was still with her then and he is now: perhaps it was the absence of her mother that she missed the most, or the lone fact that her brother's living body is gone forever and all that is left is a shell of what he used to be. No matter the reason, Oakley remembers crying in the rain, just as she is now. She did not bother to grab an umbrella when she set out into the cold storm. Maybe when she arrives, Quil will provide her with another of his sweatshirts, one that she can keep this time. Or maybe he will turn away this time and leave her to the dark forest that seems more dangerous when alone. She would deserve it after everything that she put him through. The Torine girl wonders how long he had stayed at Emily's house after she ran so quickly from him, unwavering, and unwanting of an explanation. That was a day ago — it took merely a night to gather her thoughts, her composure, and make this decision for herself.

Oakley wishes that she could be selfless enough to say that she is doing this for Graham, for the sake of her brother moving on to the place where he belongs, wherever that may be. But in the broken pieces of her heart, the twins both share the understanding that she is doing this for herself, too. She needs this just as much as the ghost does.

But what if Quil doesn't wish to see her again? This could have been his breaking point; to learn that although he had accepted her every flaw, her supernatural ability, and had been her support system since they met, she would not do the same for him. He must think that her feelings are not reciprocated, and from her actions, she understands why.

The grass is thick with mud, remnants of the disaster  before lingering to remind her of what she had done, of what she had seen. Could she even believe it? Perhaps she has been in a dream state all along and this is only a portion of it — in reality, Quil is still himself with no shape shifting secrets, he is only a boy, although Oakley cannot remember the moment in which she had fallen asleep. The truth is, she hadn't . . . and maybe that scares her, if only the slightest. What would her life be like right now if she hadn't discovered his secret?

Better, perhaps.

Now she is on his doorstep, wondering if she should bother knocking. Rain trickles down her cheeks, mimicking tears and mocking her. Quil's mother's car is not in the driveway so Oakley quietly releases a sigh of relief — perhaps she and Quil could share time together, time to finally converse and come to understand one another. Time that she had refused to give him the day before when he had so desperately needed it, wished for it.

But beyond the door, tucked warmly under a blanket that he uses only as an object of comfort, the boy can hear her hesitation. Her shifting weight as she hesitates, the pinches she forces upon her elbow as a means to pry her from her own thoughts, her shallow breathing that quickens with the pace of her heartbeat. Her dread is more than obvious to his heightened senses, and Quil Ateara aches to comfort her . . . although he shouldn't want to. After her actions, why should he provide himself with hope that will surely be crushed once she admits her terror of his alternate form? He covers his ears, as if you block out the words to come, or maybe even her soft taps against the door. All of her courage is put into the single motion, then all of her remaining energy is drained. Exhausted from the walk through the mud and chilled to her core from the rain that will never end.

The slightest chatter of her teeth, heard through the palms meant to block all sound, is all Quil requires to leap from the sofa, clutching the fleece blanket tightly within his hand and reaching the door as quickly as his feet will allow.

Did he mind if her intentions were to break his heart?

No, so long as she was warm.

When the distance between them closes, the veil of the door is removed and their eyes meet for what seems like the first time, hers cannot help but we'll up with tears. At the sight of the heartbroken boy with tousled hair, rubbed red eyelids, and puffy cheeks, she could not forgive herself for what she had done.

"I am so sorry," she begins as he tugs her forward, only requiring a moment to take in her pitiful state. She is wrapped within the blanket securely as she attempts to apologize, falling short when Quil murmurs that she needn't speak, not yet. Instead, they take comfort in the silence, and Oakley imagines all the pretty words that he could say to her next. Perhaps he would say that it didn't hurt when she ran away too quickly, or that he had forgiven her before she even showed up because he felt the same way about her. But he says none of these things as his grip on her hand tightens, as if he is preparing to let go . . . let go of more than just her iron grasp, but of her.

She would not blame him for letting her go.

"I was scared," the olive-skinned girl breaks the quiet, her crying not ceasing, not yet. "I acted on impulse, despite knowing that you would never do anything to hurt me or put me in danger. My mistake was never giving you the chance to speak," Oakley inhales, closing her eyes for a moment, "for giving up too easily because I know that I surrendered more than just my presence when I left. You accepted me, and when you asked the same of me, I cracked under the pressure — I gave up far too easily and I cannot apologize enough for what I put you through."

Quil keeps his eyes on the floor, aware of the way her teeth chatter because of her wet clothes and drenched hair. If he were to look up, perhaps he would cry too — he would be unable to decipher Oakley's tears from the raindrops that relentlessly took vengeance on her. The nature around them realized what she did too, and it punished her for it . . . or maybe, like the girl he met in the rain so many days ago, the clouds wept.

With a swallow, Quil's voice shakes as he begins, "Is this apology the beginning of the end? Have you come to break it all off officially?" His grip loosens with weakness, brought on by all the possibilities of her next words. Is this the end?

"I came to tell you what I really feel." She touched his chin and turns his face so that their eyes meet. The dark circles under his eyes are evidence that he could not sleep, that he tossed and turned within his bed but found no comfort that would lull him into a dream. He was already in a nightmare, how could he fall into another? "To admit that I am in love with you."

Those were not the words that he expected, but they made his once hopeless eyes glaze over with the slightest bit of anticipation — could this be real? Is she really saying it aloud, the same thoughts that he has had since the night he found her?

Love.

"I'm going to love you even if you decide to put me out and slam the door in my face with the hopes of never seeing me again." Oakley places a gentle hand on his warm cheek, the pad of her thumb brushing his lip. "I will love you for every day that you are alive, and every day after then. I will love you endlessly, I will love you not in your forever, but in mine. And I will continue loving you long after I, too, have gone. I messed up terribly, but it made me realize that I could not live this life without you. I never could. I never want to."

The Torine girl cuts herself off with a deep breath, before she continues. "My brother and I spoke last night and I concluded that if soul mates exist in this reality, you are mine. I was a fool to speak to you the way I did, to accuse you of mocking me when your intentions were pure —"

"There's no need for an apology," Quil assured her with the slight shake of his head, "it sounded unbelievable and it was a lot to take in at once. I understand, your reaction wasn't unconventional."

She stares for only a moment, allowing the facts to set in; although she had relayed her feelings, he had not reciprocated. Just because I want it, she thinks to herself, doesn't mean it's right.

"And my feelings cannot be put into the simplicity of words, but if it were possible, love is the closest description that can be found." His lips tug into a boyish smile that reaches his eyes with the utmost of admiration. "I love you. I love you so damn much, Oakley Torine."

Graham Torine appears behind Quil, leaning on the sofa. Though he does not speak, the tilt of his head tells her that this moment is crucial for her future. So with a short glance at the ghost of her brother, and a warm heart that accepts Quil's words, she leans into the Quileute boy and kisses him.

She basks in the heat of his skin as he pulls her closer, smiling while his lips are lost within Oakley's. This feels right, like it was destined to happen no matter the obstacles that would lead up to it — though Oakley did not know yet, she did have a soul mate, and so did Quil: within one another.

When she opens her eyes again, she does not notice that Graham is gone, only thinking to herself that she and Quil had one more thing to do before the day ended.

Now she could let go.