𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗
— 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒶𝑔𝑒 —

     𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐍 out shoes meld into the blanket of leaves outside of Emily Young's cottage, the olive skinned twin subconsciously stuffs her hands into the pockets of her hole-ridden jeans. Perhaps she dressed too comfortably for the occasion — would they like her any less because of her leisurely appearance? Oakley tucks those thoughts away when Quil joins her side, his smile unwavering and assuring. During her past few months of solidarity, she had nearly no contact with other teenagers, so the next few hours would define whether or not she was prepared to leave her stage of loneliness. If her encounter goes badly, she will undoubtedly return to her home, the arms of her brother, and call Quil Ateara her only true friend. But if this goes well . . . perhaps she will have a group of forever friends, ones with whom she can share her deepest secret and spare no details to the emotions that she has endured since the foundation of her family was shattered. Could this have been meant for her, every second and every painstaking minute leading up to a specific moment that she can cherish until the day her casket lies alongside her mother's? No, she decides. She would know if that moment had arrived, and this one surely cannot be it.

Oakley hardly realizes the soft brush of Quil's warm hand on her shoulder until they reach the rotting balustrade overrun by potted blossoms and handmade wind chimes. "You're shaking," he notices, tugging at the material of his own jacket (that looks good on her, he blushes) to gain her attention, "hey, if you aren't comfortable here, we can always leave. We could go somewhere right now, just me and you." His burning sienna eyes stay pinned to her profile, begging for a response. If the boy has to suffer through another minute of seeing her break down, he is sure that he will lose control — she deserves to smile every day of her life without the worries of other burdens that lurk around every aging tree and under every dying branch. Oh, the things he would do to see that pretty little smile of hers again.

"I would like to stay," Oakley swallows, her throat suddenly growing dry with anticipation. She places a hand upon a moss-covered beam to regain her lack of balance and nods as a form of self-encouragement. "This is just . . . it's fresh, like I am ripping open a healing wound, I suppose. I haven't been around a crowd since . . . " the Torine girl doesn't dare finish her sentence, though she knows that her heart could bear to finally say it: since my brother died. Perhaps this is her gradual way of moving on — inwardly admitting the truth until it no longer eats away at her chest. And because of that long drive in the car with Quil, she can breathe in the realization that she isn't so far away from letting go.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a tall girl with doe eyes that patiently awaits their company in the foyer. An unwarranted smile cracks the foundation of Oakley's stone features as the young woman tugs upon her braid impatiently, glancing between the silent pair. "I don't mean to intrude," a hint of anticipation laces within her soft words, "but I'm not sure if I can wait a second longer to have a girl in this household." When she fully steps from the doorway and faces Oakley, her flawless skin basks in the sunlight — though the etchings of three jagged scars maul the left side of her face, the Torine girl loses her breath in an instant. She needs no further introduction due to Quil's quick friend lesson during their time in the truck, but the girl still informs her, "Emily Young. I would ask for your name, but I basically already know everything about you. Except, of course, for the parts Quil likes to keep for himself: but you will find that when he is passionate about something, he never stops talking about it. The it, in this situation, happens to be you."

While Quil's eyes beg for a chuckling Emily to cease her retelling of his own habits, Oakley fumbles to find her own voice. Emily's hair cascades well past her shoulders, brushing over a tribal necklace that hangs elegantly from her neck. Her maroon top is unbuttoned in the slightest to reveal even more of her tanned skin, clinging to her body as if it were made for her. If the Young girl weren't already engaged to Sam Uley, perhaps Quil would have been a potential suitor for Emily — in fact, Oakley herself would not have minded to join in the line.

"Oakley Torine," she manages, offering an unsteady hand, in which Emily blatantly ignores, and replaces it with a tight embrace. "Oh," Oakley chuckles over her shoulder, cautiously touching Emily's back as if she has never touched another, "you must be a hugger."

In turn, Emily chuckles and urges the Torine twin forward, "You bet! Now get inside, I made plenty of breakfast for everyone. The boys will be home soon, so you can expect them to barge through the door at any moment."

An extended cedar table, complete with mismatched chairs and a candle centerpiece, is lined with dishes and utensils for the expected guests. Quil is steady when he pulls out a seat for Oakley, smiling only when she sinks into the cushion comfortably. The home smells like baked goods and pine needles, as if Emily had been utilizing the oven all morning while keeping the windows wide open for nature to settle inside. The forest, though confined to the space beyond the cottage, has a place within.

"I have already heard so much about you," Emily seats herself, clasping her hands together in anticipation. Her fiancé had relayed every detail to Emily — some of the thoughts that swirled within Quil Ateara's head, ribbons of confused knots suddenly weaving into perfect bows in the moment that he found her. "What is it like to have Quil wrapped so tightly around your finger?"

Oakley chuckles at the insinuation, her eyes finding the boy without a breath of falter. "He has better things to do than chase me around." But as she grins when his cheeks flush, she realizes that she would not want this to change; the way that he sends her looks of adoration, his steady hands that guide her when he is sure that she will fall, and the small nothings that he murmured to her on the street when nothing else seemed like it mattered. When the world was crumbling, he held it together for her. Where would she be without him?

"He's lucky to have you." Emily's smile is warm and inviting — it briefly reminds Oakley of her own mother's. She can nearly feel the woman's embrace . . . Oakley closes her eyes. "How did Quil convince you to go on a date with him? I do admit that the pumpkin patch is an adorable place to—"

"A date?" The Torine girl opens her eyes, raising an amused brow at Quil, whose face is hidden within his hands. "Is that what he told you?"

"Emily," Quil scolds, revealing his flushed features, "I did not call it a date."

The young woman consciously runs her fingertips over her scars, a shrug weighing heavy on her shoulders. "It may or may not have been insinuated. Nonetheless, it happened, and I would love to hear the full story." Her eyes fall upon Quil, silently asking him to leave them. But when he glances to Oakley as if to ask if she will be alright, she does not hesitate to send him a simple nod.

Only a few moments with Emily Young have proven that she has a kind soul: a woman who has clearly faced down battles that Oakley could only imagine, but who still continues about the struggles of a lifetime with helping hands and a generous heart. Her aura provides all the details that Oakley Torine requires for comfort — they will be good companions, she decides when the Ateara boy exits with a pleased grin. "I assumed he would never leave," Oakley chuckles, her fingers finding the worn wood of the table. Her nails brush the cracks and indentions that show it had survived years of damage. "In most cases, I harrow and he listens. It's a relationship that I've never had before."

She so easily surrenders what lies on her heart, relieved to find that Emily doesn't judge her for it.

"You'll find that most of the boys are like that," Emily responds, gesturing to the door — or, more specifically, the woods that lie beyond it, embracing the supernatural teenagers with every opportunity it receives. "Goofy and unorthodox? Yes. But they're also protective over one another, and have a bond that could withstand anything. Quil is no exception." The raven-haired woman absentmindedly places a hot blueberry muffin in front of Oakley before choosing one for herself, slowly peeling away the rapper and pinching off a small section. "He talks an awful lot about you. Even called me on the phone the morning of your date and asked what he should wear."

Oakley, too, takes to her muffin, but she falters before taking a bite. "He cares that much?" She questions, fully acknowledging the answer she will face: he cares for her more than she will ever know. Or, perhaps, more than he would ever tell her. If he has stayed thus far, it's unlikely that her secret will drive him away . . . but the possibility, even the smallest one, will always remain. "I mean, I've always known that he cares, but having someone else say it aloud makes it feel different. More real, I suppose." She chews for a short moment, then continues as if the silence had never existed. "I see the way he looks at me. But I have to admit, I'm not sure if it's enough . . . "

The Quileute girl doesn't flinch at the sound of her unsure words, only absorbing them and finding the will to encourage Oakley to blossom. "You're falling in love with him," Emily recognizes the permanent glow that blankets upon the younger girl's features; it softens her expressions, heals the dark circles that normally claimed the skin underneath her eyes. "But you are scared to accept it. What is making you afraid, Oakley?" Emily does not force the question — her voice is soft like powdered sugar and feels just as sweet when it settles in the atmosphere around them.

As if Oakley hasn't shed enough tears over the span of the past few days, she winces when her eyes begin to water. She quickly discards her muffin and runs her fingers beneath her eyes, warding off another cry. "You don't understand," she shakes her head, "there are things that I cannot tell him, he would never speak to me again. I . . . it isn't worth the risk," Oakley sniffs, a heavy breath falling from her chapped lips. "And yet I promised him that I would tonight, which seals the fate that I wished away. How foolish could I be?"

"You could never scare him away, Oakley," Emily takes her cold hands, adjusting to the chill that opposes the temperature of her fiancé's while radiating gentle sympathy. "If you don't feel comfortable with telling him yet, the beauty is that you don't have to. Quil would never ask that of you, nor does he have the right to. You control your own life and your secrets, so only make that decision when you are comfortable. But don't for a second think that he would abandon you for being truthful to him — you mean the world to him. If you have ever needed confirmation of that, here it is."

The Torine twin does not cry again, nor does she feel the need to. What reason would Emily Young have to lie to her? If she is so positive that Quil has such strong feelings for her, how could Oakley argue? Perhaps deep down, she has always known that he could be the one to save her. A boy on the beach, saving a damsel who held onto her own guilt with an iron grasp. But now that she has let it go, can she finally tell him the truth?

"I apologize for speaking only of myself and my own problems," Oakley releases a loud sigh, averting her eyes to the table and picking at a stray blueberry on her muffin wrapper. "But you've helped me make a big decision, whether you know it or not. Thank you for being so kind, and for the advice — I appreciate it more than you will ever know."

Waving away her compliments with a graceful hand, Emily smiles more warmly than the rays of sunshine peeking through the sheer curtains covering the parlor window. "There's no need to thank me. There's been an absent space in my heart for a while now, I've always wondered why. But now that you fit perfectly into it, I have no reason to wonder anymore." She stands, retrieving a pitcher of fresh lemonade and setting out a glass for each of them, "I should be the one to thank you for being what Quil needs. He may not see it yet, but you have completed him. He is happier with you than he has ever been, and it takes a special bond to do that to someone."

A rustle in the leaves outside prevents her from speaking further — she smiles immediately, as if she can sense her fiancé's close proximity, as if she can feel the comfort that he radiates upon finding the cottage with his content lover inside. Oakley had not seen such genuine love in the eyes of someone for so long, so she nearly falters when Emily rises to her feet and rushes to meet a tall, muscular man with stern eyes of deep sienna.

"I missed you," Emily murmurs into his chest, a small hand resting on his bare back. "But I baked while you were away, so it passed the time . . . and then Quil brought Oakley, and now she's keeping me company." The Young woman pulls away, suddenly remembering the other girl's presence. Oakley clears her throat, averting her eyes as if she is intruding on a private moment. "Oakley, this is Sam Uley. My fiancé."

Unknowing of how to react, Oakley raises her palm and gives him a short wave paired with a kind smile. "Hello."

Sam pats her shoulder as he rounds the table and chooses a seat for himself, acting as if he had known her in another life, in a world far away from this one. "Make yourself at home," he hums, taking a muffin and stealing a sip from Emily's glass. "Quil will be here shortly, he's fallen in line with the others. He speaks highly of you."

"Did he tell you about the date too?" The Torine girl narrows her eyes, already relaxed despite never being around Sam.

With a full mouth, he laughs, "The 'date' part was implied — told me so little about it though, because the rest was considered private. But I've heard that his mother takes a liking to you."

She sighs a breath of relief, satisfied with his answer. Quil had respected her secrets and kept them between one another. "His mother is very kind."

The door bursts open, revealing several laughing boys: had Oakley been too distracted to hear them? They all shared similar russet skin and a fit body, but although they were attractive, the girl's eyes found Quil first. With his chest exposed, she is reminded of their earlier encounter, and so she hides the pink that rushes to her cheeks.

"Embry Call," a first boy approaches, holding out a hand while he stifles his laughter. A twinkle in his eye assures her that their humor is directed at Quil. "You don't have to bother with introducing yourself. We all know you as the biggest crush that Quil has ever had."

"Unless you count stuffed animals," another chimes in as Oakley places her own hand within Embry's. Quil glares at their touching skin for only a moment before he is nudged by the same speaking individual. "Ease up. Jared Cameron at your service, the funniest of the group — I promise you'll find my name in the yearbook under 'class clown.' What an honor." He moves forward and tugs Oakley from her spot, embracing her as soon as she stands. "It's hard carrying all the comedy and good looks at the same time. We can share the weight of it if you'd like."

"Not funny," Quil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest while making eye contact with his imprint. "Oakley is clearly more attractive," he winks, surprising her with a boyish grin when Jared finally releases her from his heavy grasp. He holds his hand out for her to take, but is abruptly stopped when another of his companions step forward.

Like the others, this teenager towers over her while maintaining an innocent aura. "I'm Jacob, considerably the calmest. And the hothead in the back is Paul."

She glances over his broad shoulder to find the most brooding of the bunch, staring intently with brooding eyes and a gentle smirk. A heartbreaker, Oakley Torine decides in that moment — troublesome, but just as kind and inviting as the others. Paul makes no move to greet her, only glancing at Quil every few moments. It's almost as if they're holding a silent conversation, conveyed through nothing more than feelings in the morning air and indistinct thoughts.

"Are you overwhelmed?" The Ateara boy's fingertips brush her arm, sending shivers up her spine and capturing her attention. "I know this is a lot, everyone is a little too excited at the moment." His eyes reflect his concern, so carefully treading to find her emotions.

The atmosphere is more than she had expected, Oakley admits to herself. But she would not regret her decision to come here, because she would have been making one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She realizes this as she stares so breathlessly at the doorway — beyond the tempered Paul Lahote and the rotting porch with too many potted plants and ivy strands to count. The ghost of her brother looms at the stairs, his gaze soft and wondering about their current location. Graham had never seen these individuals before, with the exception of his sister and her potential lover. So why is he here, glancing in at the beautiful chaos that unfolds?

"No, no," Oakley breathes, taking Quil's hand as her eyes meet his once again. She nearly pretends that she had never spotted Graham in the first place, giving the boy a golden smile of reassurance. "This is where I'm supposed to be. I know it."

And soon enough, she will tell him how she knows this very fact — he will escort her back to her empty home, they will be seated on the velvet sofa in the gloomy parlor of broken memories and old board games, and she will spill every single secret to him. Quil will listen to every detail, clutching her fragile hands so desperately when her voice breaks at the mention of her dead brother.

And perhaps Quil Ateara will stay by her side and hold her in their own little piece of forever, fading into eternity and leaving behind memories that some could only dream of.

Or maybe he will leave her there to drown.

❝ i'm so sorry that this update took me so
long. my boyfriend dumped me, my mom had
a heart attack (and has since recovered), and
a family member passed away. i've had a rough
bit of time, but i'm finding myself again
so here's a sweet little update :) ❞