"New developments have been revealed in the case of the devastating house fire that took place about 20 minutes outside of Milford, Pennsylvania. TMZ revealed this morning that Amory Moore, the rookie wide receiver for the Detroit Lions, was among the people inside the house. We have received word from sources close to the case that he is in stable condition. We are currently being told that officials have found one deceased amongst the ruins, and foul play has yet to be ruled out for the cause of the fire. More on this, after the break."

Nadia switched off the TV with a huff before leaning back in the motel bed. It had been three days since the fire, but police had asked the group to stay in town for a couple days. It was cutting into the portion of her vacation that she was meant to spend with her family, but she knew they were not complaining. They had called the phone in the motel nearly every hour, passing the phone around as they each sobbed about how grateful they were for her to be alive.

The police had been nice enough to put them up in rooms, because all of their credit cards and money were lost to the fire. Nadia couldn't stop thinking about how awful it was going to be to get everything back; credit cards, IDs, and so on. She had been smart enough to leave her passport in Amory's rental car, but they had lost the keys due to the fire, and Amory was currently working with the rental company to have a spare express shipped to the motel so that they would be able to get in and drive back when they needed to. Not that it would matter much, because Amory wouldn't be able to fly home without his ID or phone. Everything was a mess.

The group had been given three rooms with two beds in each. Without really thinking about it, they had split into the same pairs that they had gotten in one the night of Vallie's wedding: Amory and Nadia, Ophelia and Marc, and Lou and Caspar. Caspar was still in the hospital, though, having taken in much more of the fumes than the others, and Lou spent more time with him than she did in her motel room. 

Nadia had been released from the hospital shortly after she was admitted. They revealed that she had fractured her tibia and fibula and set her leg in a cast, telling her it would take anywhere from 3 to 6 months to heal. She knew that it was going to be a bitch flying 18 hours in it, though she had no other choice.

Amory had ran out to get them breakfast, because the police were giving them a daily stipend for their food. She knew he would be back soon, and she knew that he would be thankful that she didn't have the news on. She could only watch the updates when he was gone, otherwise he would get upset. Nadia didn't understand how he didn't want to know what was happening, because it was all she wanted to do. She kept waiting for some breaking news that either revealed that the police had found something that incriminated them, or that they had found Vallie's remains. Only Tyler's were found amongst the rubble, which was a relief in some ways, but a terror in many others. There was currently a search party going on in the mountains, though the group was forbidden from joining.

Nadia was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a key jiggling in the door, and she sat up in her bed. Amory breezed in, granting her a smile before placing her breakfast in her hands. Nadia was not someone who typically ate in bed, but it was a struggle to move around now, so she had become resigned to do as much. She placed her iced tea aside and began to pick at the blueberry muffin he got her, the smallest of smiles on her face. The reminder that he hadn't forgotten that she didn't like coffee made her somewhat giddy.

"I stopped by the hospital before I grabbed our food." Amory took a seat on his bed, his body faced towards Nadia. "Lou says they're going to release him today or tomorrow."

"That's good." Nadia nodded, digging a blueberry out and popping it in her mouth. "Did the police question him at the hospital, or are they going to take him down to the station once he's released?"

"She said they stopped by, but it wasn't as formal as what we went through." Amory diverted his gaze, choosing instead to look at his breakfast sandwich. "I imagine they'll ask him to come down to the station soon."

Nadia simply nodded in response, returning her attention to her breakfast sandwich. Things had been tense, to say the least, since the fire. She and Amory would have a few minutes of normal conversation before he would think of what he did and shut her out. It was beginning to drive her mad, but of course she couldn't say that out loud. It would only make him feel worse.

Amory thought back to the questioning he had gone through. The police recognized him, and had asked immediately why he wasn't the one to run to get help. His lie came quite easily, he found; he couldn't leave Nadia's side while she was injured. The officers seemed to accept that answer, because they moved on. Most of the questions asked were about the groups relationship to Vallie and Tyler, and then about Tyler and Vallie's relationship. Amory found he did not have to lie for most of it, because there was so much he didn't know.

In the past 72 hours, Amory had learned a handful of things. For one, Vallie's car was found in a ditch off the road to the Wright cabin, though it was unclear how long it had been there. The ditch was deep, and impossible to see down into while driving by, so it was possible Amory had passed it on the way in, though he didn't like to think like that. Additionally, he had learned that divers in the lake had found a shovel, which Mr. Wright had identified as his own. Finally, he learned that it seemed Tyler had many more enemies than friends in town, so no one seemed too saddened by his passing. He wondered if that should make him feel better. It didn't.

"My mom mentioned on the phone today that she contacted Ophelia's mom, and people have set up a go fund me for us online." Nadia spoke casually, hoping she'd be able to pull Amory from his inner dwellings.

"That's nice." He hummed, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. "I won't take any of it, though. I have more money than I need. I think the rest of you should split it."

"I wasn't planning to take any of it either." Nadia paused, crumbling up her muffin wrapper. "I think maybe at most we should use it to cover the cost of the things we lost, then give the rest to Vallie's family."

Amory froze, falling back into one of his endless pits of despair. He hated hearing her name. Hated thinking that every time he heard it from there on out, he'd have nothing but memories. He especially hated thinking of her family; her sweet mom, who had once driven the 4 hours to campus just because Vallie had a cold. Her dad, who was kind but somewhat awkward, and had always slapped Amory on the back upon seeing him. Her younger brother, who Amory didn't know much about, but he knew Vallie loved dearly. He didn't like to imagine what they were going through. He didn't think he'd ever be able to look at them again, after what he had done.

✩✰✩

"We come to you with breaking news, as the identity of the deceased man found in the Poconos cabin fire has been revealed. 25 year-old Tyler Sinclair, a native of Providence, Rhode Island, was pronounced dead on the scene as firefighters battled the flames. His wife, 24 year-old Vallie Sinclair, is said to be the daughter of the homeowner. We have received word that she has yet to be found, and search parties continue on throughout the mountains. 5 of the other 6 guests staying at the cabin have yet to be named, but we are told they are all in stable condition. Tyler's cause of death has not been disclosed at this time."

"Can you shut that off?" Ophelia pleaded, sitting up in bed.

Despite having a room with two beds, Marc and her had opted to share since arriving. There were no deeper implications to it in that moment, they simply couldn't stand to be alone. Ophelia would sometimes wake in the night with a sharp breath, heaving and searching around frantically, and Marc was there to pull her back down beside him. She had been strong in the aftermath, but now her strength was depleted. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the gun going off.

Marc obliged, clicking off the TV without any complaints. The blinds were drawn, and they didn't have any lights on, so without the TV they were in near darkness. He didn't mind much, though. 

Ophelia settled down beside him, laying on her side to face him. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and she could barely make out the outline of his nose and the whites of his eyes. As she studied him, she saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly into a smile, revealing his teeth. Ophelia mirrored him, smiling back.

"I think you might be the only person in the world who has always believed in me." Marc whispered into the dark, words for only the two of them.

"You know that's not true." Ophelia shook her head against the pillow. "All of the others, they believe in you too." Ophelia knew she was just the most dedicated to showing it, but she didn't feel the need to dissect that at the moment. 

"Yeah, but it's just... Different, with you." Marc couldn't exactly put into words what he was trying to say. He furrowed his brows, realizing he wasn't even entirely sure what he meant. Why was it so different with Ophelia?

Ophelia inched closer toward him, their noses nearly touching. The world outside that motel room was scary and unpredictable and she half expected that at any moment they'd be found out and hauled off to jail. Still, enclosed in darkness and four walls and so close to one of her favorite people in the world, she didn't need to worry. This was their oasis. They felt untouchable there.

"I'm certain that you could be anything you want to be." Ophelia was still whispering, despite the fact that nobody would hear them. Their words felt like secrets, things for only them. "Since I've know you you have been loud, and quiet, and big, and small, and excited, and tired. I think you're always existing on a spectrum. You are everything all at once. The real you, I mean. Not the you that you put on for other people."

"You don't know how to stop being poetic, do you?" Marc laughed lightly, hoping the sound would cover up the loud beating of his heart. He didn't know how to be seen beyond the image his family had created for him. 

"My mom always said I had a gift, that I could stick two fingers straight into my heart and turn all the red goo that came out straight into prose." Ophelia giggled back. When she spoke again, her voice was even quieter, "I think sometimes that might be a bad thing, though."

"I'm not sure there's one bad thing about you, Ophelia."

Ophelia knew that certainly wasn't true. She could think of a few bad things, for sure. No one was perfect, not even Marc, even if he came so very close in her eyes. Still, she breathed out a soft breath and strained her eyes in the darkness, trying to determine if he was seeing her in the way she had always seen him. He was staring at her, brows furrowed but eyes soft, as if he was trying to work out some delicate equation. 

"I could kiss you right now, but I'm not sure that it would be fair to you." Marc spoke again, the shame evident in his voice.

"Why?" Ophelia breathed out, her heart pounding.

Marc thought through the long list of reasons; their friend was probably dead and their fate was unclear and he wasn't strong enough to be the man she saw him as and he had no clue what he felt towards her or anyone because he was too tired to think about it. He knew he wanted to kiss her, though, he just wasn't sure he deserved it.

"Because I don't know what I want." Marc settled on, feeling so very scared that his answer would make her roll away.

Ophelia didn't think that was true. Marc had always known what he wanted, he'd just been too scared to take it. She didn't push him, though, because now was not the time to start anything. It wouldn't be good for either of them. So, instead, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently, then settled back onto her side of the bed. 

Marc wondered if he would ever be strong enough to make the choices he wanted. 

Ophelia wondered if he would ever see how strong he already was.

✩✰✩

"New information has been released to us, painting the case of the Poconos cabin fire in a much darker light. We have obtained a 911 call made one week before the fire, calling law enforcement to the Sinclair home for a domestic disturbance. While a report was not filed, sources close to the case say that at 2:50 AM on June 29, police were called to the home for reports of a woman screaming. Calls have been made for police to release the body cam footage of the encounter."

Lou and Caspar watched the news from his hospital room. She was curled into the hospital bed with him, tucked under his arm, and neither complained despite the lack of room. They did not shut the TV off, both of their eyes glued to the report playing before them. They both knew they should shut it off, that it wasn't healthy to spend all of their waking moments worrying over the case, but they couldn't help it. It was easier than worrying about what was going on between them.

When the report switched to commercials, Lou breathed out a soft sigh and adjusted her position to get more comfortable. For the past 3 days, she had struggled to look directly at Caspar. He had a myriad of scabbed over cuts lining his face and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. She liked to keep her head on his chest, to hear his heart pounding and to know his lungs were working below his ribcage. That was easier, more reassuring.

"What are we going to do when the police are done questioning us?" Caspar asked softly, voicing the question that had plagued him for days. 

Lou had almost never left his side throughout the ordeal, and each time she looked at him it was like she thought he was made of glass. In some ways it had made his heart swell, in others it had crushed him. He knew that it was all temporary, that eventually they would go their separate ways again and he'd be resigned to more radio silence. Caspar knew he was not made of glass, but he feared his heart might be. The leaving would shatter it into a million pieces.

"What do you mean?" Lou sat up, resting her weight on her arms and finally looking at him. She had to bite her lip and look away almost immediately. Lou blamed herself for his scars, because she had fallen apart. She also blamed herself for the loss of Vallie, because she had quietly resented her. She liked to believe she was capable and strong willed and resilient, but the world liked to prove her wrong.

"I mean, in a couple of days," Caspar paused to sit up at well, wincing only slightly. The good news had been that he hadn't broken any ribs, but they were still severely bruised. "Do we just go back to not talking to each other, like after Vallie's wedding?"

The mention of Vallie's wedding made Lou's blood run cold. She wished she could look back fondly on the night. She wished she could borrow Ophelia's rose-tinted glasses and think only of drunken dancing and smiling and the feeling of Caspar's lips on hers in the hotel room. She wished she could fondly remember the way he had whispered her name like a prayer and held her in his arms. Instead, she only remembered Vallie walking down the aisle as if she were walking to a death sentence, and the way Caspar's eyes fell when she told him she couldn't be what he needed.

"I don't know what to say, Cas." Lou wasn't good at this, she knew that. Still, it had been so much easier with Topher, because she wasn't particularly worried about hurting him and knew he could never understand the inner workings of her restless mind. She didn't want to hurt Caspar, though, and she knew he'd probably get her better than anyone else. 

Caspar blew out a breath before shaking his head. He wished she would just look at him. He wondered if he'd understand her better if he could look into her eyes. Probably not. Still, it might make the rejection sting less. What was pain in the face of such beauty?

"I'm going back to Oregon, you're staying in Pennsylvania." She said the words like she was trying to convince herself. She ran through the list of reasons that she couldn't surrender herself to him in her head; she'd never met his parents, and she didn't know what toppings he preferred on his pizza or if he'd ever had his heart broken or broken someone else's. Those were all things she could learn, of course, but what if they changed everything and by then they were too far gone? Would it not hurt more to go all in, only to learn that they were just another disaster?

Caspar wanted to drop it. To fade back into the comfort that was silence and be resigned to the fact that him and Lou would never be what he wished they were. He wanted the best for her, at the end of the day. Still, he couldn't shake the possibility that maybe he was what was best for her, or maybe he could be, and they both were too goddamn quiet to consider it.

"And if there wasn't thousands of miles between us?" Caspar questioned quietly. 

Lou looked at him once more, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. Would she be able to try under those circumstances? Probably not, but she could dream about it for a few moments.

The news report came back on, but Caspar's eyes didn't return to the TV. He held her gaze, willing her to be vulnerable with him just this once, hoping his eyes told her all the ways he cared for her. Lou stared back, for only just a moment, before turning back to the screen. She didn't settle back against him this time, because that would not be fair to him, but instead sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her back towards him. 

Even then, sharing the same bed, she felt further away than Portland.

---

this chapter is lowkey just sad all around??? sorry about it I suppose.

your comments on the last chapter made me so happy, I didn't realize until now that it was maybe my favorite chapter so far? Idk what that says about me. I suppose I like chaos.