Archive of Our Own

I. Red - Spring 1987

“Shayne! Shayne! Honey, are you okay?”

Shayne opens his eyes, blinking as sunlight floods his vision. His mother’s face swims into view, her brow furrowed worriedly.

“Wha…?” he says, sitting up slowly. “...Mom? What happened?”

He takes in the scene around him. He’s on the playground, his mom leaning over him. His head hurts a little, but his mouth hurts way worse. Off to the side, another woman is checking on a smaller boy who’s sobbing for all to hear. And beside them is a girl, her fists balled up and her face scrunched in fury.

“Hey, hey, Shayne honey, can you follow my finger with your eyes?” his mother asks. He does, tracking her finger as she moves it around. She sighs in relief. “Okay, good, no concussion. What happened? I just saw you fall.”

He feels something wet running down his chin, and reaches up to feel his mouth, only to realize his front teeth are missing. “I don’t—” he says, but the girl cuts him off.

“He pushed my baby brother!” she cries, scowling. She points an angry finger right at Shayne. “Trevvy’s only four! And he pushed him down!”  

The little boy is still wailing like a fire engine, but his mother seems to think he’s all right, because she turns back to Shayne and his mom.

“Is that true, Shayne?” his mother asks, glowering. 

“It was an accthident!” he protests. “I didn’t mean to. I wath trying to help him up!”

“Yeah, right!” says the girl. “He was being a bully, and no one’s allowed to bully Trevor ‘cept for me. So I knocked his stupid teeth out!”

“Courtney!” the other kids’ mother exclaims, lifting a still-sobbing Trevor into her arms. “We’ve talked about keeping our hands to ourselves!” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m so sorry,” she says to Shayne’s mother. 

“It’s all right,” his mother sighs, helping him to his feet. She offers the other woman her hand. “Sounds like they about broke even. Maureen Topp, and this is my son Shayne. We just moved into the neighborhood last week.”

“Well, I’m sorry we didn’t give you a warmer welcome,” the other woman half-laughs, returning the gesture. “Michelle Miller, and this is Courtney and Trevor.”

Courtney crosses her arms, glaring.

Half-hiding behind his mother’s legs, Shayne speaks. “I’m thorry I knocked your brother down. I promithe it wath an accthident.”

Courtney glares a little longer, then huffs and lets her arms swing back down by her sides. “Whatever. I guess I’m sorry I hit you.”

Ms. Miller sighs again. “I guess that’s a start. Thank you, Shayne, for saying you’re sorry.”

“And thank you, Courtney,” his mother says, patting Shayne on the shoulder. “It’s good of you to look out for Trevor. You’re a good sister.”

Courtney smiles at that, playing with the hem of her skirt. She has pretty hair , Shayne thinks. It’s stuffed into two messy pigtails at the back of her head, with a few wood chips sprinkled in like confetti.

Ms. Miller clears her throat. “Well,” she says, “It’s about dinnertime, and this one—” she gestures to Trevor, who’s calmed down enough that he’s just hiccupping, “—might need a little nap before we eat.”

She takes Courtney’s hand in her own, and throws one last smile towards the Topps.

“We’ll see you guys around, okay? Maybe we can start with a blank slate next time.”

“Sounds perfect,” Shayne’s mother says. “Nice to meet you all.”

Shayne watches as the family turns away. Right before they leave the playground, Courtney looks back over her shoulder at him.

She gives him a little wave, and he waves back shyly.

“Come on Shayne,” his mom says, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “Let’s get you home. Looks like someone’s getting a visit from the Tooth Fairy tonight.”

“Okay,” he says, taking her hand. He can’t help but look for Courtney one more time, but she’s not looking back at him.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” he asks, looking hopefully up at his mother.

She looks over her shoulder where the Millers have disappeared, then gives him a small smile. “Sure, baby,” she says, squeezing his hand. “We can come back tomorrow.”

II. Orange - Summer 1991

“Ninety-nine! Ninety-eight! Ninety-seven!”

Shayne runs frantically away from the campfire, scanning Damien’s yard for somewhere to hide. There are a lot of kids at this birthday party, and he doesn’t want to be one of the first ones found. Ian’s voice gets quieter as Shayne heads into the tree line. 

It’s shadowy here, especially with the sun starting to set. After a few moments of panicked searching, Shayne finds a tree with branches low enough to grab onto. He hauls himself up onto the first branch, slowly making his way up until he’s about halfway to the top. Panting, he collapses against the trunk, satisfied that no one will find him for a while.

“Would you quit breathing so loud?” 

He jumps so badly he nearly falls off of his branch. “Frick!” he says, and the voice from above shushes him again. He cranes his neck up to see Courtney tucked up against the tree trunk a good four or five branches above him.

“Shut up!” she hisses. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“Um, no,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who’s talking.”

“I hate you,” Courtney says, lowering a hand to pull him higher up. “C’mon, you’re low enough that Ian could catch your shoes with his flashlight.”

He takes her offered hand, pulling himself up until they’re sitting on the same branch.

“How do you know?” he whispers, kicking his feet a little. “What are you, some kind of hide-and-seek wizard or something?”

She shrugs and grins at him, wide and wicked in the light of the setting sun. “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m never the first one found.”

Shayne thinks back to all of the games of hide-and-seek they’d played together and finds he can’t disprove the claim. “Fair enough,” he says.

Off in the distance, Ian finishes his countdown. Shayne can just make out the older boy’s silhouette against the campfire light. He and Courtney watch in silence as Ian quickly finds Olivia, who’d simply laid down on the ground under the picnic table. 

“See?” Courtney whispers, poking Shayne in the ribs. “With everyone else’s obvious spots, it’ll take forever for him to find us up here if we’re quiet.” 

And she’s right. It feels like they’re sitting on that branch for hours, watching more and more of their classmates wander dejectedly back to the campfire. Ian stalks under their tree once or twice, and they both hold their breath until he passes by. He flushes Spencer out from a nearby and moves on, and they both exhale.

“We’ve got to be the last ones left now, right?” Shayne whispers, trying to count the figures in the yard. 

“Just us and Jeremy, I think,” Courtney whispers back. 

“Sick,” Shayne says.

They quiet again as they hear Ian tromping through the tree line below, huffing impatiently. “O-kay ,” he calls, annoyed. “I get it, you’re good at hiding. Would you come out already?”

It really is an accident when, trying to smother his laughter, Shayne knocks down a pine cone that drops right in front of Ian.

“Shayne!” Courtney hisses, but it’s too late; Ian’s already swept the beam of his flashlight up and captured them with it like two raccoons caught rooting through the trash. 

“Found you!” Ian grins, and Courtney groans. 

“Nice going, doofus,” she says, shimmying down the tree.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shayne sighs as he follows.

They arrive back at the campfire to thunderous cheers, and Courtney grabs his hand to raise up in a theatrical bow. 

In the end, Jeremy wins; somehow, he’d managed to shimmy up a drainpipe to hide on the roof of the house. Shayne’s a little disappointed, but it’s made better when Courtney offers him half of her s’more.

“Nice climbing out there,” she says, and he smiles widely. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says.

“Better than you,” she teases, punching him in the arm.

“Ow!” he cries. “You are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Knock it off!” says Ian. Shayne smiles.

“Truce?” he asks, raising his s’more for a toast.

Courtney sighs dramatically, but relents with a warm smile. “Truce,” she agrees.

They smush the s’mores together. Shayne licks the gooey marshmallow off of his sappy fingers, giggling with Courtney all the while. He feels his face get hot, but he doesn’t really know why.

III. Yellow - Spring 1993

“Did you hear about Olivia and Sam?” Courtney whispers under the din of the trundling school bus. 

“No,” Shayne says. “Did they break up or something?”

Courtney shakes her head. “Nope. They kissed and saw colors.”

“Dang, they’re soulmates?” Spencer butts in, leaning over into their seat from the one behind. “Can’t believe they found out already. I bet I’ll be waiting forever for mine.”

“Shut up, Spencer!” Courtney says, smacking him on the arm. “You’re so freakin’ loud, they might hear you!”

Shayne peeks into the aisle and spots the couple in question a few rows ahead, holding hands and blushing as they share a snack.

“I think we’re good,” he says. “That’s crazy though.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney says.

“You guys are distracting me,” whines Damien from beside Spencer, frantically pressing buttons on his Game Boy. 

“Doesn’t matter, we’re here,” Spencer says as the bus begins to slow. 

Every year, all the seventh-graders get to go on a field trip to an amusement park a few hours away. Shayne grins, his leg bouncing with excitement as they pull into the parking lot. The park is small, not like when he visited Six Flags as a little kid, but he’s excited nonetheless.

“Okay, kids!” their teacher calls. “Backpacks stay on the bus! Make sure you’re wearing sunscreen! And most importantly, stick with your buddy while we’re in the park! Everybody got it?”

A chorus of affirmatives rings out, and the teacher smiles. “Okay then, who’s ready for Echo Lake Park?”

Courtney offers Shayne a fist bump as cheers ring through the bus. “Ready, buddy?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear.

He returns the first bump eagerly. “You bet!”

-

Ninety percent of the day is incredible. Shayne and Courtney ride his favorite roller coaster over and over until he throws up. They decimate Damien and Spencer on the target shooting ride, Courtney hitting nearly everything she aims her laser gun at. They have lunch at a silly Western-themed restaurant with the lunch money their parents gave them and even split a root beer float (though about a third of it is lost when Spencer jokes about them dating and Courtney chucks it at him. It’s pretty funny, so Shayne doesn’t mind the loss). 

But when they get to the spooky haunted house ride, Shayne feels his nerves start to spark. 

The whole thing is themed around creepy dolls. Animatronic baby dolls leer from steel cribs; porcelain dolls with cracked faces giggle and scuttle out of sight. Courtney, Spencer and Damien are laughing at the cheesy effects, but Shayne falls silent, sitting frozen in the ride car and closing his eyes until they emerge into the boarding area. 

“Whoah, buddy,” Courtney says, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, worried a tear might fall if he does, and he’ll never live that down. 

“Shayne,” she says again, low and gentle. “Shayne, we have to get off the ride. Are you okay? Can you open your eyes?”

He does, and a traitorous tear rolls down his cheek. He waits for her to laugh at him, but she doesn’t; she just flicks it off his face so quickly he’d never have known it was there, and takes his hand. 

“C’mon, buddy,” she says, pulling him to his feet. “Want to head back to the bus for a minute?”

“Yeah,” he squeaks, trying to hold back another tear, and she nods and starts towards the entrance of the park, explaining the situation to a parent chaperone in a hushed voice on the way. Damien and Spencer look like they want to follow, but Courtney waves them off.

Back at the bus, Shayne fully breaks down in tears. The chaperone politely looks away as he shakes, hiccupping, and Courtney rubs his back.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and he hiccups again.

“The dolls,” he admits, rubbing his runny nose on his T-shirt. “I fucking hate dolls.”

She nods and offers him a water bottle. In the heat of the April sun, he’s extra grateful for it.

“Why aren’t you laughing at me?” he asks after a sip.

She frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone laughs when I say I’m afraid of dolls,” he says. 

“Well that sucks of them,” she says decisively. “‘Cause there’s nothing wrong with being afraid of dolls. People are afraid of all sorts of things.”

“I guess.” He screws the cap back onto her water bottle. “I’m sorry to pull you away from the park. It seemed like you were having a lot of fun.” 

“Hey, we’re buddies, remember?” She shoots him a crooked smile. “I, like, legally have to stick with you. Plus, I’m not having fun if you aren’t.”

He smiles at that, taking a shaky breath and wiping the last remnants of tears from his cheeks. 

“Ready to go back in?” Courtney asks, and he nods. 

“Thanks for being cool about this,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

She pulls him into a quick hug. “It’s no big,” she says. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

As they head back to rejoin the class, she keeps him occupied with jokes and silly stories until he’s laughing so hard his stomach hurts, the creepy doll ride nearly forgotten about. And when some kid in his class laughs at him for crying a few hours later, well. Shayne tells the teacher he swears he saw him trip over his own untied shoelaces. Courtney winks, and Shayne just smiles.

IV. Green - Fall 1995

The auditorium at the Lighthouse Academy for the Arts is noticeably nicer than the one at the local public high school. The seat cushions aren't ripped or torn, and all of the stage lights and sound equipment seems to work. They even have a concession stand.

“So this is what all the fuss is about,” Spencer says, crunching loudly on his popcorn. “When Dames and Court said they wanted to go here, I didn’t really get it. But this room doesn’t even smell like weed or farts. Pretty sick.”

Shayne hums in response, only half-listening. He’s poring over the program in his hands, scanning for any mention of his friends’ names. 

“Ooh okay, looks like Damien is playing the Tin Man,” he says, pointing Damien’s name out to Spencer. “And Court is the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

Spencer laughs. “Jesus, she’s probably having a ball with that.”

“I bet.” Shayne looks up, scanning the room. His mom dropped them off about twenty minutes ago, so the show is probably starting soon. He sees Courtney’s family down in the front row; Trevor catches his eye and waves enthusiastically. He waves back with a smile.

“Do you think she’s going to like these?” he asks nervously, fidgeting with the small bouquet of carnations he’d picked up at the grocery store. Spencer snorts. 

“Dude, I think you could get Courtney a stick off the ground and she’d keep it forever.”

“You think?”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Frankly, I know.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

He quiets as the lights dim and music begins to play.

It’s pretty good, even if he’s heard the story of The Wizard of Oz about a thousand times before. The girl playing Dorothy is infectiously cheerful, and Damien delivers his song and all of his lines with gusto. But it’s no surprise that Courtney steals the show, at least to Shayne.

Spencer’s right; she’s having so much fun as the Wicked Witch, cackling and chasing the other actors around the stage like a cat with cornered mice. Shayne has a big grin on his face the whole time.

She nails the Witch’s death scene too, shrieking so loud the people in the next town over can probably hear her. A huge cloud of fog erupts from backstage as she “melts,” and when it dissipates she’s gone, almost like she’s really melted away. Shayne maybe cheers a little louder than is traditionally acceptable during her and Damien’s bows.

Afterwards, he and Spencer find her in the foyer surrounded by her family and her friends from her new school.

“Oh my gosh, you guys came!” she yells when she spots them, practically shoving Trevor out of the way to grab them in a group hug. “What did you think? Did I do okay?”

“Well, I feel like it’s crazy to do a show that’s so thematically color-heavy when most of your cast probably hasn’t found their soulmates yet,” Spencer says. “But you, Courtney, were fantastic.”

“You really were,” Shayne agrees, nodding perhaps a little too hard. She’s noticed the bouquet in his arms, and he holds it out to her awkwardly. 

“For you,” he says, looking anywhere but her face. 

“Aw, buddy!” she cries gleefully, taking the flowers with obvious pride. “That’s so sweet!” She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he feels his face start boiling. 

“It’s from both of us,” Spencer says, as Damien appears behind Courtney.

“No flowers for me?” he fake pouts, and Shayne pulls him into a hug as their friends laugh. 

“You were incredible, dude!” Shayne says, grinning.

“Aw, thanks man,” Damien says. “Oh hey, by the way, I want you guys to meet a couple of me and Courtney’s friends from school!”

“Yay!” Courtney cries, clapping her hands together as two of their castmates—Dorothy and the Scarecrow—emerge from the crowd.

“This is Tommy,” Damien says as the Scarecrow waves. 

“And Kimmy!” Courtney says, wrapping an arm around Dorothy’s shoulders.

“So nice to meet you guys!” Kimmy says, shaking Shayne and Spencer’s hands excitedly. “We’ve heard so much about you two!”

“Good things, hopefully?” Shayne laughs. 

“Only the worst,” Tommy says with a crooked grin. “By the way, Shayne, you've got a little something on your cheek there?"

Shayne rubs a hand over his face and it comes away smeared with paint. 

“Oh, oops!” Courtney laughs. “My witch make-up. Sorry, Shayne!”

“Aw, don’t be sorry Court. I think he’d make a great witch,” Damien jokes. 

“More like a Good Witch,” Spencer says. “Y’know, like Glinda?”

“I liked it,” says Tommy.

“Okay, anyway, I’m so sorry but we’ve got to get changed and ready for the cast party,” Damien says, checking his watch. “Thank you guys so much for coming, it means a lot.”

“Anytime, dude,” Shayne says, giving him one more hug. When he turns, he sees Courtney smiling.

“I really appreciate the flowers,” she says, and his heart does a little flip. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he says. “I remember you said you liked carnations, so.”

“You’re so sweet,” she laughs. “Thank you, Shayne. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he says, and waves as she follows Damien and their friends back to the dressing rooms.

Spencer elbows him in the ribs. “Told you she’d like them,” he grins.

Shayne rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing. “Whatever, man.”

V. Blue - Summer 1997

The pool water is cool against Shayne’s calves. He stares down into it at his own rippling reflection, the half-empty beer in his hand mostly serving as a comforting weight. Something solid to hold on to. Maybe someday he won’t spend the back end of one of Kimmy’s parties feeling sorry for himself, but today is not that day.

Through the glass sliding door, he can see people laughing and dancing in the dining room, but he doesn’t recognize anyone. Damien and Spencer peeled off ages ago, leaving Shayne alone with a bunch of Lighthouse kids. He isn’t really sure why he declined to go with them. Nothing is really keeping him here, other than the fact that Courtney hadn’t left yet.

Sighing, he turns his gaze back to the water, watching partygoers’ shadows stretch across it, silhouetted caricatures of the careless frivolity he couldn’t quite feel. Ugh, is he reading too much melancholy shit?

The sound of the door opening doesn’t faze him much. Probably just someone grabbing something they forgot outside. But the footsteps get closer and closer until they’re standing over him, and he looks up to see Courtney, lip quivering and tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“Hey,” she says, voice cracking. “Can I sit with you?”

“I… yeah of course,” he stutters, hoping he doesn’t look too shellshocked. She sits beside him, lowering her feet into the water. 

“Courtney, what happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

She scrubs her eyes. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m okay.”

“...are you sure?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but it never comes; instead, she collapses against him and dissolves into quiet sobs. He drops his beer in the pool in his haste to gather her into his arms, ignoring how the resulting splash hits his face. He traces a few circles into her back as she cries into his stupid T-shirt and it seems to help.

“Sorry,” she says as she pulls away. “I’m so sorry, Shayne-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says earnestly. “Do you want me to drive you home? I barely drank, I’m totally good to go.”

She hesitates for a moment, tossing a glance back inside where Shayne can now see Kimmy and Tommy worriedly searching the party for someone.

“Yeah,” she whispers, eyes still trained on her friends. “Take me home.”

-

Courtney doesn’t say much on the ride back. Shayne pops in a CD at random, so their drive is scored by The Cure; he can’t help but notice how hard Courtney punches the skip button when “Friday I’m In Love” comes on.

“Do you, um…” he hesitates, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He hears her take a deep breath before she answers him.

“I had my first kiss tonight,” she says.

“Oh.” 

“We were playing spin the bottle,” she continues. “Up in Kimmy’s room, just a couple of us. And I was too embarrassed to admit I’d never kissed anyone before. So I played, and I wish I hadn’t, because everybody saw me freak out and leave after and it was humiliating.” 

Her voice has started to quiver again. He wants more than anything to reach over and take her hand in his, to show her she isn’t alone, that he’s here and he cares and she’s safe. But that feels inappropriate somehow, like he’d be crossing some weird boundary. It’s not like they’ve never touched each other before; hell, she’d just been crying into his shoulder fifteen minutes ago. But the space between them feels... different.

“I’m sure it’s not a big deal,” he says instead. “Shit happens. I bet by the time Monday comes, everyone will have forgotten all about it.”

“I really hope so,” she whispers, so low he can barely hear. “Because I...I really thought I’d guessed right.”

And suddenly everything clicks into place. “... oh.”

“Yeah,” she says.

They’re quiet for a while, the music and the tires hitting the pavement the only sounds at all. Shayne tries to will away the sudden churning in his stomach. Just carsick, he reasons. It’s started raining, just a light drizzle that tip-taps down onto the roof of the car like the ticking of a clock. Has the drive home from Kimmy’s always been this long? Why does he suddenly want it to be over so badly?

“So,” he eventually says, because apparently he’s a masochist. “Mind if I ask who it was?”

“...a friend,” she answers cagily, gazing out the window into the rainy woods.

He nods, perhaps a bit too hard. And he could leave it at that, but—

“Tommy?” he guesses.

Courtney straight-up guffaws like he’s never seen. “ Tommy?” she laughs, practically choking. “Oh god no! Tommy’s… no. No, it wasn’t him.” 

Shayne can’t help smiling. “Okay, okay! I was just asking,” he laughs, holding a hand up placatively. “I just couldn’t really think of anyone else you seemed, y’know, close enough to.”

Courtney giggles a little longer, then takes another deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her turn to look at him, a little more serious this time. 

“It was, um…” She trails off for a moment. He risks a glance in her direction and finds her studying him, her eyes still a little watery.

“You know you don’t have to tell me, right?” he says gently. “I was just teasing.”

“I know,” she answers. “But I want to. I… I trust you, Shayne. A lot.”

“Aw, shucks,” he says, batting his eyelashes at the windshield. “Means a lot, miss, thank you.”

She smiles again, but doesn’t laugh this time.

“It was Kimmy,” she nearly whispers.

It takes a second for him to compute, but he does. “Oh!” he says. “Gotcha.”

There’s a few awkward beats that Courtney breaks with a voice wobbling on the edge of tears again.

“Is that okay?” she asks, and Shayne’s heart shatters into a million pieces.

He gives in to his instincts then, putting the hazards on and throwing the car in park on the side of the road. He turns towards her, reaching over to firmly take her small hand in his big one. Her breath catches, and he can see she’s got tears spilling down her face again.

“Of course it’s okay,” he says firmly, locking their gazes together. He’s never been more sure about anything. “Courtney, no matter who you love, no matter who your soulmate ends up being, I—”

His own voice catches for a second as he looks at her, shrunken and small in his passenger seat.

“...I’ll always be your friend,” he settles on, and even if it isn’t everything he’s thinking, he knows he means it a million times over.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just stares in disbelief. And then she reaches over the gearshift and wraps him in her arms like she had on the side of the pool. He wastes no time returning the embrace, letting her tuck her head into his shoulder.

“Thank you, Shayne,” she says. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too,” he answers.

VI. Indigo - Summer 1998

With his back to the quiet campsite, his friends asleep and the fire nearly dead, Shayne has finally found a moment to catch his breath.

At least, until he hears someone step on a twig behind him. He smiles despite himself, instantly recognizing the voice that whispers “Shit!” into the quiet night.

“You ever think maybe I came out here to be alone?”

Courtney snickers. “Alone? On your own graduation trip? Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

He chuckles under his breath, not looking as she settles down beside him on the overturned log. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he leans his own head to rest on hers. It’s comfortable, the air filled with the sound of crickets and the smell of pine. The lake sparkles, reflecting the moon and starlight in little ripples.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asks, poking him gently in the ribs.

“Hey!” he smiles, batting her hand away. “Not much, really. Just thinking about school, I guess.”

“Are you nervous?”

He scoffs. “Me? Nervous? ‘Course not.”

“So you’re petrified.”

“Never felt better about anything in my life.”

“Everyone else is asleep, you know. It’s just you and me here.”

He sighs, letting himself deflate. As much as he hates to admit it, the idea that Courtney is the only one listening is greatly comforting. 

“Well, so long as it stays between us, yeah, I’m fucking nervous.”

He feels her wrap her arms around his waist, pulling herself snug against his side. He rests his hand on her waist as she tucks her head in to rest against his collarbone.

“Anything in particular you’re worried about?” she asks.

“What aren’t I worried about?” he half-laughs, carding his free hand through his hair. “The distance, for one. Like, fuck, Court, I’ve never even been out of the state before, and now I’m supposed to just ship off to the other side of the country? Away from my parents and my friends and—and—”

“And me?” she asks, teasing.

He looks down at her for the first time since she wandered over. She’s staring up at him with those big round eyes like a Disney character, and she’s still wearing the hoodie he’d lent her earlier when she complained she was cold. She has a stray pine needle in her light hair, and he reaches up with his free hand to fish it out.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “And you.”

It almost hurts, looking at the way the moon caresses her face, makes her look like she’s glowing. He runs his hand through her hair again absentmindedly and she gently sighs, leaning into his touch the slightest bit. He feels the sharpness of tears threatening to leak from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m really going to miss you,” he says, voice breaking on the last word, fingers still in her hair.

“Do you ever wonder…” she trails off, her face only a few inches from his. He can feel her breath against his skin, ebbing and flowing like the tide, and it makes him shiver.

“...if we might be soulmates?” he says, finishing her sentence. She sucks a breath in. “Yeah, I do. I wonder about that all the time.”

“Me too,” she admits, so quietly it could have been the wind. 

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. He moves the hand that’s in her hair so it’s cupping her jawline instead, the pad of his thumb brushing ever so softly against her bottom lip. She gasps softly, pulling him almost imperceptibly down towards her.

He rests his forehead against hers, feeling her breath against his mouth. She closes her eyes, and he closes his, and he feels her reaching up to close that last miniscule bit of space, feels the tip of her nose brush against his, feels his pulse skyrocket when—

“Wait,” he says, shaking. “Wait, Courtney, wait.”

She’s off him in seconds, like it burns her to touch him. She has her hands up in surrender, her gorgeous eyes blown wide in horror.

“No, no—” he says, reaching for her, but she flinches away. A hot tear finally rips out of his eye then, carving its way down his cheek. “It’s okay, Courtney, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“What did I do?” she asks, and his heart cracks in half.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says, reaching for her again. She doesn’t flinch away this time, but there’s none of their familiar closeness when he takes her hand.

“I just,” he sighs, sniffling. “Court, I’m already going to miss you so goddamn much it feels unbearable. If we—if I know you’re my soulmate, and I’m leaving you behind… fuck, I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t leave. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be hanging around, bogging down your senior year, affecting your college applications… I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You don’t want me to hold you back, you mean,” she says. He looks up and finds her gaze steely, her features morphed into indifference.

“No, not at all!” he protests, but she’s already snatched her hand away. 

“No, Shayne, don’t worry about it,” she says, standing up from the log. “I understand. You don’t want to be tied to me. You don’t want me tethering you to this stupid small town. So just go, then. Go have your college adventure. Don’t let me stop you.”

“That’s not what I—”

She holds up a tired hand. “Don’t worry about it. Good night, Shayne. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She turns, trudging back up to the campsite. He watches her go, hot tears falling down his astonished face. She slips into her and Kimmy’s tent without sparing him a second glance.

He looks down at his hand, still warm where it held hers. He can still feel her breath against his mouth, her arms around his waist. The brightness of her smile and the suffocating darkness of her numbness.

“Way to fucking go, asshole,” he mumbles to himself, the moonlight through the trees spotlighting his fuckup for all the heavens to see. “Way to fucking go.”

-

They don’t talk much for the rest of the summer. Their friends and parents raise eyebrows, but there’s plenty of acceptable alibis. Shayne’s busy packing for school, so he can’t go to Kimmy’s party. Courtney has soccer practices, so she can’t make it to his family’s end-of-summer barbecue. Come September, she doesn’t come to bid him goodbye.

But a week after he arrives at school, he gets a letter in the mail.

Shayne,

I think a lot about what happened back in July, and I just wanted to let you know I don’t hate you or anything. I understand why you backed out. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. 

I hope that college is incredible. You’re a great guy, I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends. Maybe even meet your real soulmate. Who knows. Just try not to do that thing where you go to a party and just stand against the wall looking nervous the whole time. 

I miss you, a lot. But it’s like you said. I can’t let that hold me back from concentrating on my senior year. I think it might be best if we give each other some space for a while, so we can figure ourselves out. But for what it’s worth, I hope our paths cross again someday, and maybe we can be close again then too.

Wishing you all the best. You’ve got this, I know you do.

Love, Courtney.

VII. Violet - Winter 2001

Shayne hasn’t been to his hometown’s Winter Holiday Celebration since he was in elementary school, and if it weren’t for sheer boredom he wouldn’t be here now. But Damien won’t be home for another several days and he’s sick of staring at his TV screen, so he’s dragged a protesting Spencer out on the town for the afternoon. 

Honestly, with the main drag covered in a blanket of sparkling snow, the place looks like something out of a Hallmark movie. The temperature leaves something to be desired, though.

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Spencer groans, tugging his beanie further over his ears. “You know I have a woodstove in the den? I could be all cozied up in Donkey Kong Country right now.”

“If I hadn’t pulled you out of your den, you’d be hibernating,” Shayne says. He scans the crowd, taking in the cheery vendor booths and the sign pointing the way towards hayrides. “Look, the Girl Scouts are selling hot chocolate.”

“I have hot chocolate at home.”

“Not that supports the Girl Scouts, you don’t.”

Spencer sighs. “What is with you, man? What, you’re suddenly reveling in holiday cheer or whatever?”

“Maybe I—” 

Before he can continue their witty repartee, something cold and wet slams into the back of his head.

“Whoa!” Spencer exclaims, eyebrows nearly touching the brim of his hat. “Holy fuck dude, that wasn’t me I swear!”

“What the hell?” Shayne says, befuddled, trying to shake the remains of the snowball out of his hair. 

“TEN POINTS!” Someone behind him yells. In tandem, he and Spencer whirl to see a familiar group of figures heading their way.

At the front of the pack is Trevor, clearly Shayne’s assailant; he pumps a fist in the air and whoops like he’s won a million dollars. Behind him, Kimmy’s doubled over laughing from where she’s hanging on the arms of Tommy and a buff guy Shayne doesn’t recognize. And behind them…

Even from this distance, he can see the way the cold has painted Courtney’s pale cheeks darker. The quickly fading daylight glints off her teeth as she laughs at her brother’s antics, like not a day has passed since they were all children roughhousing on the schoolyard. And when their gazes meet, it feels like he really has gone back in time—like he’s seven years old all over again, staring up at the girl who just knocked out his front teeth. 

She gives him a small smile, waving with a gloved hand. His stomach leaps up into his throat. He waves back slowly, hoping she doesn’t notice how flushed he must be. 

Only then does he process that she isn’t walking alone. Her other arm is intertwined with that of a gorgeous woman with long, dark hair falling down her back in waves. She leans in closer, whispering something in Courtney’s ear, and the light-haired woman laughs again, the sound as clear and bright as Christmas bells.

Shayne lowers his hand as Trevor reaches them.

“My dudes!” he cries in delight, wrapping Spencer and Shayne in his spindly arms. “Holy shit, how are you?”

“Hey, Trev!” Shayne says, patting the younger man on the back. Jesus, he got tall. “Thanks for the warm welcome back to town!”

“Choking,” Spencer wheezes.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” Trevor laughs, releasing them. “My bad, my bad.”

The rest of the group has caught up now. Kimmy shrieks, breaking free of her gentlemen escorts to envelop Shayne in a warm hug. 

“Shayne!” she says, grinning. “I didn’t know you were home!”

“Just got here Thursday,” he says, smiling back despite himself. Kimmy’s positive energy is just too infectious not to. “Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?”

“Good, good,” says Tommy. “Nice to see you two out and about for once.” He shoots a positively salacious wink at Spencer, whose face darkens considerably.

“Seconded!” says Courtney, still on the unfamiliar woman’s arm. “I don’t usually see you two at the Winter Holiday. Starting a new tradition?”

Shayne’s struck a little dumb when her gaze lands on him, but luckily Spencer never shuts up. 

“Shayne’s trying to kill me,” he explains. “I was all set to cozy up by the fire with my Super Nintendo, but he wants me to freeze my ass off instead.”

“Poor baby,” Tommy croons sympathetically, making Spencer blush even more.

“So yes, we’re starting a new tradition,” Shayne says. “What about you guys? Showing your new college friends around?”

Kimmy claps her hands together. “Oh my gosh, where are my manners?” she says, returning to the buff man’s side. “Shayne, this is my boyfriend, Shane. Ooh, same name, that’s fun!” she giggles. “Obviously you know me and Tommy and Court and Trev, and this is—”

“—Arasha Lalani,” the dark-haired woman cuts in, reaching out her hand for Shayne to shake. He does, if hesitantly.

“Shayne Topp,” he says. “And that’s Spencer.”

“Nice to meet you, Shayne and Spencer,” Arasha smiles. She has a nice smile. Shayne tries not to be irked by it.

“Shayne and Spencer grew up with Trevor and I,” Courtney says, leaning her head closer to Arasha’s.

“Yeah,” Shayne says. “Well, anyways, nice to see you all. And nice to meet you two,” he gestures to Arasha and other-Shane. “We won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to get to.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Kimmy exclaims. “You guys should totally join us! We haven’t seen you in forever, I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to!”

“Yeah!” Courtney agrees, turning to Shayne. “You should totally tag along!”

“Well…” Shayne looks around, searching for an out, but doesn’t find one. Spencer, usually the first to protest staying out a second longer than he has to, has fallen into easy conversation about video games with Trevor and Tommy. Kimmy’s practically giving him puppy-dog eyes, and her gigantic boyfriend nods encouragingly. And, oddly, Courtney seems to want him to stay.

So he caves. 

“All right,” he sighs. “As long as you guys promise we aren’t intruding.”

Courtney grins even wider. “I promise, you aren’t.”

-

“How the hell did I let myself get talked into this?” Shayne groans.

“It’s fun,” other-Shane offers, panting. He peeks up over their icy barricade, chucking a snowball towards the opposite side of the field.

As it turns out, one of the staple events of the Winter Holiday is sudden-death snowball fighting. Two teams enter, the last person standing wins. The only rule: don’t get hit.

Trevor had suggested it, of course, practically vibrating with excitement. It was Kimmy’s idea to play boys-versus-girls, with Tommy grinning wolfishly behind her. And so here Shayne is, cowering behind a makeshift battlement and absolutely drenched in sweat and snowmelt. But as much as he’d hemmed and hawed, other-Shane is right. This is fucking awesome.

“Fuck!” someone yells off to their right, and he hears the ref blow a whistle. Other-Shane peeks up again to look around.

“Spencer’s down,” he reports, squatting back down like a commander in the trenches of the First World War. “It’s just you and me now, buddy.”

He pats Shayne’s shoulder with a muscled arm, brow furrowed intensely. “We’ve gotta flank ‘em,” he says. “We’re down a man here, Topp. I go right, you go left. Don’t miss, arright?”

“Wait, we’re going now? ” Shayne protests, but he’s too late; the other guy has already disappeared, surprisingly quiet for his height.

Shayne sighs, tip-toeing towards the left of the snowy labyrinth. From the bench, Trevor sees him and waves enthusiastically, only stopping when Arasha swats his arm. Spencer sits beside them, shivering into a steaming cup of cocoa. So that leaves Kimmy, Tommy, and Courtney. 

It’s a little terrifying, stalking through the snow maze. Whoever made this course did a good job. He keeps his head low and moves as quietly as he can, listening closely.

He hears a commotion somewhere in the distance: Kimmy shrieking, Shane roaring, and both of them laughing. The whistle sounds twice, and they emerge from the course covered in snow. He watches Shane kiss Kimmy on the nose and murmur an apology as she giggles, clearly besotted. Good for them.

It means he’s on his own though. He keeps up his stealthy movements, listening intently for movement or sound. Suddenly he hears something: a snickering coming from the other side of the wall in front of him. Praying, Shayne jumps up and catches himself on the lip of the wall, hoisting himself up just enough to lob a snowball over the top. 

He grins when he hears Tommy squawk. That’s one. 

Just him and Courtney now. Smothering laughter, he keeps prowling. 

It’s taking longer than he expects to find her. Either she’s constantly moving or she’s found a really good place to hole up and hide. He keeps looking, checking his corners as quickly as he can before proceeding onward. It’s not long before he finds himself at the edge of the course, right up against the spray-painted line marking the boundary.

He turns around to make his way back through, only to find Courtney perched atop one of the walls like a panther waiting to strike. He sucks a surprised breath in through his teeth.

“Found ya,” she winks, lazily tossing a snowball straight into the center of his chest.

Distantly, he hears the ref blow the whistle and Courtney’s teammates begin to cheer. But it’s all distorted, like he’s underwater. The only thing that’s clear is Courtney’s face as she hops down from the wall, approaching him with a shit-eating grin.

“Good game, Topp,” she says, holding up her hand for a high-five.

It takes him too long to process the gesture, so by the time he goes to return it she’s already lowering her hand. She catches his instead, gently weaving their fingers together. He can feel the heat of her hand through his gloves, warm and welcoming like a summer’s day. She looks up at him and he prays she can’t feel his pulse racing; a smile plays at the corner of her lips.

“Good, um, good game,” he says lamely, and she laughs.

The rest of the group races over; Kimmy and Arasha are quick to give Courtney celebratory hugs before Tommy lifts her onto his shoulders, the four of them all cheering. They all start to make their way back to the main drag. Shayne trails towards the back of the pack, listening as the winners gloat.

“We fucking got your asses!” Kimmy says, grinning maniacally like a rabid chihuahua.

“You guys barely won!” Trevor whines.

“Oh, shut up,” Arasha says, smacking him on the arm again. “You’re just pissed that you were the first person out.”

“The walls were too short for me to hide behind! You all had a distinct advantage!”

“I hate you,” Arasha laughs, rolling her eyes. And then she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him. 

“Whoa!” Shayne says, eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. They both look back at him confused.

“Uh, something wrong, bud?” Trevor asks, clearly baffled. He’s holding Arasha’s hand.

“I thought…” Shayne gestures vaguely from Arasha to Courtney, who’s too busy laughing with Tommy and Spencer to have heard anything.

Arasha looks from Shayne, to Courtney, to Trevor, to Shayne again, then bursts out laughing.

“Wait a minute,” she says. “Did you think me and Courtney were like, together?”

“...yeah?” Shayne admits sheepishly.

“Oh, Shayne, no dude,” Trevor laughs. “Arasha’s my girlfriend. We met at school this past year and she’s visiting for the holidays.”

“Oh,” Shayne says dumbly, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“Yeah,” Trevor says. “Court’s not actually, like… seeing anyone right now. If you were curious.”

“Thanks for the info,” Shayne says, flushing. He ignores how Trevor and Arasha keep looking between him and Courtney for the rest of the walk.

-

The Tree Lighting Ceremony in the town square seems to be the main event of the Winter Holiday. There’s even a live band playing Christmas classics from a nearby gazebo. A sizeable crowd surrounds the giant Christmas tree that their group has to navigate. The tree stands dark as the last of the sunlight fades from the sky. Eventually they reach a spot that Courtney and Tommy deem acceptable. Shayne can’t really tell what makes it different from any other spot on the green, but he doesn’t mind. 

Behind him, Trevor’s explaining the process to Arasha. “So they have someone dressed as Santa come in on a fire truck, there’s like a whole little parade through town, and then they end here and Santa does the tree lighting. It’s cute.”

“It sounds cute,” she says. 

“I think I’m going to run and grab another hot chocolate,” says Spencer. “Does anyone want anything?” 

“I’ll come with you,” says Tommy, and the two peel off. 

“Ooh, I see my cousin over there!” Kimmy says, taking Shane’s hand and dragging him into the crowd. “Just gonna say a quick hi. We’ll be right back!”

“I kinda want a hot dog,” Arasha murmurs. “Do we have time before the thing starts?”

“We can move quick,” Trevor says. “Shayne, Court, hold down this spot, okay? Defend it with your lives if you have to.”

“On it, boss,” Courtney says, saluting. Her brother and his girlfriend disappear, and just like that, Shayne is alone with her for the first time in years.

There’s an awkward silence for a few moments, until they both start talking at the same time.

“So how’ve you—”

“Are you having a—”

Courtney laughs, and a bit of the tension in Shayne’s chest dissipates. 

“Sorry, you go,” he says. She smiles.

“How have you been, way out there on the West Coast?” she asks. 

“I’ve been good,” he says, hands in his pockets. “Only one semester left of undergrad, which is pretty crazy.”

“You’re studying psychology, right?” she asks. He nods. “What do you think you’re going to do after graduation?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. I want to get my doctorate eventually, but it’s expensive. Might move back home for a bit and try to find a school around here. California’s nice, but, y’know. There’s a lot about home I miss.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” he clears his throat, shuffling from foot to foot. “What about you? What’d you end up going to school for?”

“Directing, actually,” she says, her eyes lighting up like, well, a Christmas tree. “I really love it. It’s been so fun so far.”

“That’s awesome!” he says. “What are you hoping to direct, do you think?”

“Honestly, like, music videos?” she says, scratching her chin. “I just think it would be so much fun. And I’m not trying to end up in a job I don’t have fun doing, y’know?”

“I get that.” 

There’s another beat, until Courtney poses another question.

“So, anybody special waiting for you back in California?”

“Nope,” he sighs, kicking a little at the snow. “Still perpetually single. The more things change, right?”

“Huh,” she says quizzically.

He wants to know what “huh” means, but Tommy and Spencer reappear before he can ask. The rest of the group follows soon after, and then the sound of sirens cuts through the chatter in the square. 

“Here we go!” Kimmy says excitedly, poking at Shane. 

Shayne watches as a fleet of emergency service vehicles arrive, with Santa and Mrs. Claus waving joyfully from the top of one. As they descend from the truck and make their way towards the tree, the excitement in the air is almost palpable. 

Trevor wraps his arm around Arasha’s shoulders as he squeals in delight. Shane picks Kimmy up and puts her on his shoulders so she has a better view, ignoring the annoyed rumblings of the people behind them. And to his left, Shayne sees Tommy remove his scarf and wind it gently around Spencer’s neck. Spencer looks up at Tommy so tenderly that Shayne feels like he’s interrupting a private moment.

So he looks back towards the tree. Santa and Mrs. Claus have reached it now. Shayne starts when he feels someone take his hand; he turns his head to see Courtney, staring nonchalantly ahead as if she hadn’t done a thing.

Inhaling deeply and not looking away from her face, Shayne moves to interlace their fingers. She smiles and squeezes his hand. 

He’s so busy looking at her that he misses the actual tree lighting. One moment everything is a little shadowy, and the next she’s cast in the vibrance of thousands of twinkling lights. It’s not just the tree; lights strung across streets blink on too until the whole town is bathed in a holiday glow. But he doesn’t care. 

She cheers with the rest of the crowd when the lights come on, maybe even a little louder. Then she turns to look at him. Her eyes meet his and her smile falters just the tiniest bit, like she’s nervous.

“You—this was beautiful,” Shayne stutters, and Courtney beams back.

“It’s really something, isn’t it?” she says softly. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Maybe I’ll have to make this a new tradition after all.”

She runs her thumb along his knuckles. “I really hope you do,” she says.

If Shayne were a brave man, maybe he would have kissed her then. The thought comes to him in the moment, and he almost gives into it. He leans in towards her the littlest bit, and he sees her suck in a breath, her big bright eyes boring into his. But he isn’t a brave man. He thinks of those bright eyes getting farther and farther away as he flies back to school, and he chickens out.

She seems to notice, and he sees her frown just the slightest bit in disappointment. But she wipes the expression away as quickly as it comes.

“I think I should probably get going,” Shayne says. “Presents to wrap and all that.”

“Okay,” she says softly. She squeezes his hand one more time before she lets it drop, heavy against his thigh. “It was really nice to see you, Shayne.”

“It was really nice to see you too, Court,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He bids the rest of the group goodbye, but Spencer hangs back. “I think I’m going to catch a ride home from Tommy if that’s cool,” he says, throwing a look over his shoulder at the other man. Shayne nods and pulls Spencer into a quick hug. 

“Sounds good, man. Glad you actually enjoyed yourself.”

“Are we still on to game tomorrow?”

Shayne grins. “You know it.”

He heads back to his car alone, hood up against the chill. When he looks back at Courtney, she’s looking back at him too. He gives one last half-hearted wave before he slinks away. 

-

When he finally gets home, Shayne takes a minute to just sit in his running car with his forehead on the steering wheel, sulking. The events of the past few hours play like a blooper reel in his head. How could he be so fucking stupid?

He finally gets out, slamming the door of his car a little harder than he means to, only to realize that he’s had an audience the whole time.

“Rough day?” Anthony calls, leaning on the porch railing and smiling with a cigarette in his teeth.

“Oh, hey Anthony,” Shayne calls, suddenly aware of how dark his face must be. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He ascends the stairs to their shared porch, knocking his boots against the railing to shake the snow off.

“Want to talk about it?” Anthony asks, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Shayne hums, noncommittal. “Not much to talk about, I guess.” He moves to his neighbor’s side, leaning his hip against the railing and crossing his arms against the cold. 

Anthony nods like he understands, and for all Shayne knows, maybe he does. He silently offers Shayne a cigarette from a pack in his back pocket. Shayne declines with a small shake of his head. 

They’ve never been close, not really; there’s always been just enough of an age gap that they never really shared classes or friend groups. But Anthony’s always been cool, a stalwart presence next door that Shayne could rely on to pick him up from a party if he’d drank too much or to shovel his car off after a snowstorm. There’s just something calm about the older man, like he’s been through it all and came out on top. Maybe that’s why Shayne finds himself baring his soul on this cold December evening, spilling the secrets he couldn’t even bring himself to tell his closest friends about.

“There’s this... so I have this friend,” he sighs.

Anthony throws his head back with a laugh that startles Shayne a little. “God, don't we always?"

Shayne laughs too, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s not like a unique story or anything. I have a thing for her, I have for as long as I can remember, and I’m too chicken-shit to say anything.”

Anthony nods along. “Been there,” he sighs. “It’s not an awesome feeling.”

“Have you found yours?” Shayne asks shyly. “Y’know, your soulmate?”

Anthony cracks a smile then, big and genuine. “Yeah, I have.”

“What’s it like?” Shayne asks. “Is seeing in color everything it’s cracked up to be?”

“It’s less about the colors, I think,” Anthony says thoughtfully. “It’s more about the person that makes you see them. It’s like… it’s like you didn’t even realize you've been cold your whole life, and suddenly someone’s lit a fire and taken your hand, and you realize that your life has so much potential when they’re with you.”

“Damn,” Shayne says after a moment. “Sounds sick as hell.”

“Yeah,” Anthony laughs. “It also means I can tell you your shirt absolutely does not match your jacket.”

“Fuck, really?” Shayne winces, looking down at his outfit. Anthony chuckles. 

“Really,” he says. “But don’t worry about it. Tell me about this girl, man. You think she might be the one?”

Shayne sighs, watching his breath form little clouds in the chilly air. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I don’t know how much longer I can take the not knowing.”

“Sounds like you should tell her how you feel,” Anthony says, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I guess, but it feels like a really bad time,” Shayne sighs. “She’s still got another year and a half of school, and I don’t know where I’ll be after I graduate. I could be moving to the other side of the country for all I know. I feel like it’d hurt too much to be away from each other, and I don’t want to put her through that.”

Anthony nods thoughtfully, ashing his cigarette on the railing. The dark ashes spiral into the snowbank below, marring its perfect surface.

“Listen,” he says. “You know yourself better than anyone else. Way better than me. But it sounds like the not knowing is already tearing you up inside. You might as well talk to her, tell her how you feel and see if she reciprocates. And if she doesn’t, you can move on with your life. Stop worrying about what could have been.”

He turns to face Shayne fully, his eyes serious. 

“But you never know,” he says. “You never know. And ignoring it? Just pretending the feelings aren’t there, that you can will them away? If it’s real, you’re not just denying yourself that happiness, Shayne. You’re denying it to them too.”

“I guess I never thought about it that way,” Shayne says quietly. An image of Courtney’s face at the tree lighting, the sadness behind her smile, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“I never did either,” Anthony sighs. “Not until my soulmate verbally kicked the shit out of me.”

“How did—” Shayne starts, but he’s cut off when Anthony’s front door opens. Shayne’s surprised to see he recognizes the man who opens it.

“Anthony, are you coming in soon?” Ian asks. “I can’t tell if the cookies are close to ready, and I don’t want to burn them.” 

Anthony looks back at him with a look sweeter than any Christmas cookie. “Sorry, Ian. I was just catching up with Shayne. I’ll be in in a sec.”

Ian smiles softly, then nods at Shayne. “Hey, Shayne. Hope you have a nice holiday.” He disappears back into the house, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Shayne and Anthony stand in silence for a moment, before Shayne offers a handshake. “Congratulations, man,” he says, grinning. “I always had a feeling.”

Anthony ignores the handshake and pulls him into a quick hug. “Me too,” he says.

He turns to go inside, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Hey, Shayne?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Whoever she is, tell her,” he says firmly.

“I…” Shayne hesitates, but he fixes his jaw in place and gives Anthony a firm nod. “I will.”

Anthony nods, then disappears back into his house, leaving behind only the scents of cigarettes and fresh-baked cookies.

VIII. Pink - Winter 2001

In the weeks that follow, Shayne reasons that while he may have promised Anthony he’d confess his feelings, he never specified when.

He is busy. There’s barely time to see Damien when he returns from school, let alone set up a perfect moment to confess his decades-old crush. Christmas Day comes and goes; he spends it with his family, and aside from a quick phone call to the house wishing him a happy holiday, he doesn’t hear from Courtney. They don’t run into each other around town. He sees Tommy once and asks after her, but doesn’t reach out beyond that. He feels too paralyzed to.

In the week between Christmas and New Year’s, Shayne pretends he’s forgotten all about the tree lighting. He spends his days gaming with Spencer and Damien, sorting through his childhood toys with his mother, and going on quiet drives around town. If those drives happen to take him down Courtney’s street every so often, it’s pure coincidence. It’s a small town.

But on the 29th, he answers a knock at the door and finds Trevor there, bundled up tight against the cold. 

“Your invite,” he says with a dramatic bow, holding out a glossy piece of paper for Shayne to take.

“Oh,” Shayne says, looking it over. It’s an invitation to the annual Miller Family New Year’s Eve Party, an event he hasn’t attended since high school. “Thanks, Trev.”

“You better show up,” Trevor says. “Courtney asked me to deliver that one personally. She didn’t want it getting lost in the mail.”

A car horn sounds behind him, and he breaks into a grin. “Sorry, that’s ‘Rash. We’re on our way to the movies. I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”

He sprints away without waiting for an answer, leaving Shayne standing in the doorway clutching the invitation. 

Shayne closes the door slowly, settling down on the couch and looking the piece of paper over. On the back, he finds a handwritten note:

I hope you can make it. Love, Court. 

That word, “love,” makes his heart ache. He casts a glance at the Christmas tree, where a single package sits unopened beneath the branches. To Courtney, From Shayne, it reads. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“Fuck it.” 

-

At seven o’clock on New Year’s Eve, Shayne finds himself on Courtney’s front steps. 

Her mother answers the door with a glass of red wine, beaming when she sees him there. “My goodness, Shayne Topp! God, it’s been forever!”

“Hi, Ms. Miller,” he says shyly. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I should say the same!” she cries, ushering him inside and gathering him into a warm hug. “Come in, come in.”

It seems like the guests are mostly Courtney’s parents’ friends, but Shayne recognizes plenty of faces. Tommy appears to be tending bar at the gigantic kitchen island, with Spencer watching rapt from a barstool. Behind them, Arasha’s “helping” Trevor bake something, mostly just sitting on the counter and trying to convince him to let her lick the spoon. In the living room, Damien, Ian, Anthony, and Kimmy’s boyfriend are gathered around the piano as Olivia and Sam play some dramatic duet together. Damien smiles and waves when he sees Shayne, a gesture Shayne returns. But someone is conspicuously missing. 

“Where’s Courtney?” he asks, and Ms. Miller smiles warmly. 

“Oh, she’s just upstairs with Kimmy,” she says. “I think they’re finishing getting ready. I’m sure they won’t be a minute.” 

She shoots him a wink as she passes, joining her husband in the living room to chat amongst their friends. Shayne catches Anthony; the other man squeezes Ian’s hand and makes his way over.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “How’s it going? Did you ever get to tell—”

“Hey, Anthony!” Shayne says a little too loudly, bringing the other man in for a hug. “Listen,” he hisses under his breath. “Now isn’t really the best time—”

“Shayne?”

Pulling away from Anthony, Shayne’s confronted by a fucking vision at the top of the stairs.

Courtney’s dark dress sparkles in a way that refracts light, like a little disco ball casting sparkles across the dance floor. She’s got glittery makeup on her eyelids and cheekbones too, and a little tiara tucked into her loosely tied-up hair. She looks like a night sky. Shayne balks at the sight of her, freezing in place like an ice sculpture. 

She breaks into a small smile, and it melts him. “You came,” she says quietly, like she’s pleasantly surprised.

“I did,” he says softly. 

Kimmy appears behind Courtney, wearing a matching dress in a lighter shade; she stops to see what the hold-up is, and grins when she sees Shayne.

“Aw, hey buddy!” Kimmy says. “Court was really hoping you’d make it!”

“Kimmy!” Courtney hisses, but Kimmy only laughs and pushes past her to rush down to the foyer. She gives Shayne a quick hug, then says: “Anyways, I’ve got a handsome fella waiting for me who I don’t want to keep waiting any longer. I’ll see you two in a bit,” and absconds, giggling, into the living room.

Anthony pats Shayne on the shoulder, grinning. “Me too, actually. I’ll let you two catch up,” he says, winking at Shayne as he follows Kimmy. 

Courtney descends the stairs like a queen in a movie, regal and elegant, but the look she gives him is decidedly familiar. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she says, and he feels his heart skip and his mouth stitch shut. He doesn’t know what to say. So he just hands her the gift.

“Um, Merry Christmas,” he says eloquently. She takes the clumsily wrapped present like it’s sacred. “I hope you like it.”

“Aw, gee, for me?” she says, smiling. She cuts through the tape on the back with a fingernail, shucking off the wrapping in one piece. Her eyes go wide and she gasps.

“The Xanadu Soundtrack?” she shrieks, so loud it draws looks from the other partygoers.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I saw it at a record store out in California and I remembered how much you love that movie, so. Figured I couldn’t not grab it for you.”

She launches at him so hard he nearly stumbles. When she pulls back, she looks at him like he’s someone important.

“Thank you,” she says, and her eyes are crinkled at the corners in a smile, and it makes him want to smile too.

“Anytime,” he says, and then realizes he’s still holding onto her. 

“Courtney, I—” his voice catches in his throat. He gulps as she studies him. “Can I talk to you for a sec, do you think?”

She nods, then takes his hand and squeezes it. “Just let me get my coat,” she says.

Even those few moments where she’s gone have Shayne’s heart speeding like a rabbit’s. He waits by the front door with his head down, pretending not to notice how their friends are whispering amongst themselves. When Courtney appears again, bundled in a fluffy coat, he’s relieved to be ushered back outside into the cold and the quiet.

They just kind-of stand there for a moment, facing each other awkwardly on the front step, until Shayne finds it within himself to speak.

“Sorry,” he says, playing with the hem of his sweater. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from the party.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles encouragingly, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “What did you want to talk about?”

He inhales deeply and exhales again, trying to let his anxieties dispel with the cold mist of his breath.

“Court,” he starts, staring at the concrete beneath his shoes. “I’ve been thinking a lot the past few weeks. And before that too, if I’m being honest.”

She hums, prompting him to elaborate, and he manages to look her in the eye.

“I know that it’s been a while since we were really, y'know, close,” he says, watching how her gaze seems to sadden a little at the reminder. “And I know that it’s kinda my fault. Because of everything that happened at my grad party. And I just wanted to tell you that… that I miss you. And I’m sorry.”

“I miss you too,” she half-whispers, rubbing his bicep comfortingly. “And you don’t have to be sorry. I understand if… I understand.” 

“I still wonder sometimes,” he admits, reaching tentatively for her free hand. Her eyes widen as he takes it in his, but she doesn’t pull away. “Like, what would have happened if we’d actually kissed.”

“What would you have wanted to happen?” she asks. 

“Fuck, Court, I just would have wanted you to be happy. I still do. Soulmate or not, I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she says softly. She moves the hand that’s on his arm to the side of his head, running her thumb along his cheekbone, and he shivers. “I was then and I am now. I’m really lucky, Shayne. I have a lot of good people in my life, and they make me really happy. But so do you.”

He feels his breath catch, and he squeezes her hand.

“You make me happy too, Courtney,” he whispers. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, shyly, and he nods so quickly he worries his head might fall off and roll away. 

The first part is familiar; just like all those years ago, he closes his eyes and cups her face in his hands, and feels her lean her forehead against his. He feels her breath cut through the chilly air around his mouth and nearly chokes again, but he remembers what Anthony said to him the night of the Winter Holiday.

If it’s real, you’re not just denying yourself that happiness, Shayne. You’re denying it to them too.

Instead, he relaxes into the soft warmth of the kiss.

-

It’s like a bomb goes off behind his eyelids.

He’s seen movies, read books, heard songs about that first moment. The moment when you know. The moment when you find your person and your worldview forever changes. Literally.

But nothing’s prepared him for what it feels like. Like he’s been electrocuted, his whole body tingles with sudden energy. And there are flashes of bright light like fireworks, each one a memory, a moment, a color. 

Red. The blood on his fingertips as he feels the spot where his front teeth used to be. Courtney’s dress as she stands over him, fists clenched.

Orange. The sunset backlighting her as she reaches a miffed hand down to help him further up a tree. The campfire flickering as they smush their s’mores together.

Yellow. The walls of the school bus in the sunlight as she comforts him, wiping his tears from his face.

Green. The paint covering her face. The smudge on his cheek where she’d kissed it.

Blue. The water of the pool as she cries into his T-shirt.

Indigo. The starry sky as she walks dejectedly back to her tent.

Violet. The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree as she squeezes his hand. 

Pink. 

He opens his eyes. In the glow from the glass front door, he can see where the December air has dusted a rosy hue across her cheeks. Pink. Her cheeks are pink.

“Holy shit,” Courtney says, and Shayne nods. He runs his thumb lightly across her flushed cheek, memorizing the hue. 

“You’re cold,” he murmurs. “Maybe we should go get you warmed back up.”

She smiles. Her eyes are the clearest blue. 

“In a minute,” she says, and she kisses him again.

-

When they re-enter the party, all of their friends have gathered in the kitchen. A hush falls over the room, and more than one person has a shit-eating grin on their face at the sight of their clasped hands and flushed faces.

Nobody asks the question, but Shayne answers it anyway, just nodding.

Cheers erupt, and the two of them are instantly caught up in a hurricane of hugs and well-wishes. 

“Thank fucking god,” says Damien, embracing Shayne more tightly than he ever has. “If I had to watch you two tiptoe around each other for another fucking minute, I was going to lose my mind.”

And then it’s Anthony who’s hugging him. “I’m so proud of you, man,” he says. “I knew you had it in you. Congratulations!”

“I always wanted a big brother,” says Trevor, grinning as he slaps Shayne on the back. “Well, an older brother.”

They find each other again in the sea of congratulations, and he kisses her on the forehead.

The rest of the night feels like a vivid dream. Courtney stays by his side, an arm tucked around his waist, and Shayne counts every color her dress refracts. 

When the countdown starts, they crowd around the TV in the living room with everyone else. The clock strikes midnight, and Shayne clinks his champagne glass against Courtney’s, feeling happier than he ever, ever has. 

As other couples pair off for their New Year’s kisses, he turns to her and finds her already looking at him, blue eyes sparkling with joy.

“Happy New Year, Courtney,” he whispers. 

“Happy New Year,” she says, smiling. His cheeks flush pink as she kisses him.