They hadn't stayed at the beach very long.

In just under an hour, both of them agreed that going home would be in their best interest because neither of them had feeling in their hands or feet. Seth had a shower first when they got back, and Rosemary went in after him. She wanted to just sit under the hot water until the numbness went away, but instead she went and made herself a can of soup and some tea, and then went back down to her room.

As she ate she looked through her notebook where she written lyrics or blurbs or ideas for songs she could write. This was the third one she was working on; the other two were left somewhere at her mothers house.

Rosemary flipped page after page, studying the words she'd written down without any idea of where they could go.

You'll get better soon, 'cause you have to

I thought 'Heaven can't help me now', but nothing lasts forever.

And that's how it works; that's how you get the girl

Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your Wildest Dreams

Red lips and rosy cheeks

I want you for worse or for better; I would wait forever and ever; broke your heart and put it back together

Most she had jotted down while in the midst of watching TV or reading. Inspired by fictional romances and heartbreaks. Hazel losing Augustus. Clary and Jace. Violet losing Finch. Simon and Isabelle. Bianca and Wesley. Alec and Magnus. Celeana and Chaol. Tessa and Will. The stories and feelings were endless.

Most of what impacted her life growing up was fiction, and the characters eventually became more important to her than family. Her mother and father were too busy fighting, Gran was unwell and living across the country at the time, and her Nanny — the only constant adult in her life — also doubled as the family house keeper. Most people didn't have the necessary time to spend with her, so pages and screens were what made her.

She had finished reading the Hunger Games trilogy and had been absolutely shattered. She had cried for Rue and Thresh. For Mags and the grief it drowned Finnick in. For the agony they put Johanna through before torturing her in the Capitol. For Peeta, who only ever wanted to be kind and was turned into someone hateful.

Especially for Katniss. For the girl on fire, who unintentionally inspired an entire country to rebel against their oppressors when all she wanted was to save the boy who saved her. For the girl on fire, who truly was only a girl. For the girl on fire, a seventeen year old child forced to take the face of an entire nations trauma, and fight against the man who already tried to kill her.

For the girl on fire, who served her purpose and was tossed aside when the children stopped dying and bombs stopped falling.

Maybe it was biased, as the story was told in her perspective, but Rosemary would be the first to admit that Katniss Everdeen was one of her favourite fictional characters to exist. So yes, she spent a lot of time crying for her.

In her grief she reread the series twice more, and ended up writing a song. It was written from Katniss' point of view, naturally, and Rosemary did the best to tell her story.

She had a few favourite lines, such as; "an imposter wears his face, one I barely recognize",  "but look over your shoulder, see my target on your back",   "we're players in a game that I don't intend to lose"

It was meant to be something she posted online as a way of keeping her vocal progress, but it ended up becoming quite popular. That was when the agent got in touch with her.

Since then she had released an EP album, most telling the stories of her beloved fictional characters.

Gone; her story for Katniss.

Warrior; for Clary in the Shadowhunters universe.

Red; for the Red Queen.

The Worst Betrayal; for Bryce and Danika in the Crescent City series.

It was short, as an EP was supposed to be. She wasn't well known enough to release anything else. But the second song on the track list, Warrior, became very popular very quickly. That was how she grew in popularity.

Since being brought further into the limelight Rosemary had written another handful of songs, but she wasn't ready to release them. Besides; she hadn't read them over since the days before she feared for her life.

She wanted to tell the story of what she was surviving now, but knew a lot of her 'fans' were young girls, some not yet at double digits. It felt ridiculous to call them that, but her agent did and the term stuck. She wouldn't be the one do expose them to that side of life.

As she scrawled down notes and some sample lyrics, she felt the bitter tension build in her chest again. When she shoved the notebook under her pillow and went to bed, there was only one proper line: he chased me and he wouldn't stop; tag, your it.

It was difficult to get up the next morning, as she was awake at 4AM. But her shift started at 5, and she wouldn't complain. The few hours of sleep she'd gotten would be responsible for the several coffees she bought throughout the morning, but she would deal with that later. So she got dressed in her thick leggings and a nice top, slid on her boots, pulled on a sweater and jacket, and she was good to go.

Thankfully it wasn't raining heavily on her walk to the little cafe. She was one of few people out and about, most were gearing up to go fishing or sitting on their front porch with coffees to enjoy the beauty. An older man nodded to her, she returned the gesture with a small smile, and continued on walking.

Rosemary had been worried about what her presence would bring. Questions, obviously, as she'd never been here in her life and was living with the Clearwater's. Then how she moved in and started working in the matter of two days; like she was already a member of the community.

Very clearly, she wasn't. So leading up to her first day of work she had several expectations for the people of a small town. Scrutiny, mistrust, judgment, curiosity. The typical things she might feel if roles were reversed and someone moved into her small hometown. So having even just polite acknowledgment eased some of her anxiety.

The lights of the shop were on but the door still locked, so Rosemary waited a moment before knocking. Mona came out of the back room — the kitchen, likely — and was quick to let her in. "Morning," Rosemary said.

When she didn't get a response, she remembered the near deafness and repeated herself louder. "Mornin', hun," Mona beamed back. "You can put your things in my office back here, follow me."

Around the front corner, through the kitchen directly behind it and placed beside the cleaning closet, Rosemary was shown the little office that would always be locked. It would only be Mona, herself, and another girl named Kim who would work the evenings. A chef worked each shift, who would arrive at 4:45 to take the main orders. In the mornings, she would work with Martin.

As it was only 4:30, Mona gave her the run through of what to do on an opening shift. Switch on the lights. Put your things away. Check the registers cash. Check the floors and tables for any mess not dealt with (which almost never happened, apparently). Put a menu at each table and booth.

It only took ten minutes to work through, so her next task was putting Rosemary in a lavender apron. The large fridge in the kitchen held all the main produce the chefs would need on one side, and the other held pre-made doughs. Each was labeled on the bowls they were in. There were mainly three; bread, cinnamon buns, and cookies.

She was instructed to put them in the lower oven as Martin would be using the top.

Rosemary was placing balls of chocolate chip cookie dough onto the pan when the front door swung open, and a man called his hello. Mona yelled back, and in a moment he was walking into the kitchen with an easy going smile Rosemary knew she would get along with.

Martin wasn't old enough to be considered a senior citizen, but apparently he was very close. At the age of 64, he had spent much of his life working on a fishing boat with his father before moving into one of his own. When he got into an accident with equipment as a young adult and ended up needing a hip replacement, he was forced to find another job. "Mona grabbed me for here," he explained as he put his things in the office as well. "Couldn't manage this place without me, ya know?"

Mona rolled her eyes dramatically, and shot him a look as he set up his kitchen. He just grinned.

"Grade school friend of my late husband," Mona explained. "Since he wouldn't do it, someone had to look after the dolt."

But she was fond of him, clearly. The smile on her face was a fond one and the annoyance was that of a mother. It was 4:55 now, and Mona walked her way down to the office while yelling something about new employee papers and filing issues.

"She's having a nap," Martin told her quietly, that same grin on his face. "Keeps a pillow and blanket stashed in her desk drawer, thinks we don't know about it." The humor faded from his brown eyes and became more serious. "She can't do these early mornings anymore. Just won't admit she's getting old."

"I heard that, Martin Kipp!"

Mouth agape, Martin turned to look down that small hallway. "How?" The loud argument continued on, only with a brief pause from Martin saying she could go ahead and flip the sign to OPEN. Rosemary grinned and got the coffee pot started, readied the other one to go, switched the kettle on and then did as she was asked.

As soon as she opened the door, two different groups of older folk came walking up with various assistors; canes, walking sticks, walkers, etc. She gave them all smiles and held the door as they came in, which most returned.

A few made comments about the weather, hoping it'll stay this nice. They saw the face she made at that so she explained that she was from California, and they all had a laugh. She assumed they had their regular tables, which they did, and all sat down.

"I'm new to waitressing," Rosemary told them all nervously. Maybe the explanation would help them be a little more patient. "So things may not go as smooth as they usually would."

The heavy-set man with the cane leaned back in his chair and beamed at her, reaching a hand out to pat her arm. "Nothing's ever smooth with ol' Mona, so don't you worry kiddo."

"Darren!"

At the sound of his name being yelled from a distance, his smile only widened. "She hears what she wants to," he said. Then, "take your time, we stay here most of the day drinking coffee anyway."

Rosemary couldn't help but laugh.

She took their drink orders to the kitchen first. Two waters, four cups of regular coffee — which she made note of being one full pot — a pot of tea with all the additional things to add, and a pot of decaf. Rosemary was careful two write them all down, leaving tally marks to signify multiples, and read it all back out so there wouldn't be any mistakes.

When handing them all out, she was told the decaf was for a woman named Darlene; apparently she loved coffee but it was too rough on her stomach. She took the breakfast orders that she brought back to Martin — who yelled that they needed to give him a heads up when they were coming — and then brought the pastries out of the oven.

She flipped the cookies onto cooling racks. Transferred the cinnamon buns to a display tray with a lot of Martin's help. Then she organized the muffins as well.

Another group of people came in chattering as they claimed their table, and Rosemary introduced herself and repeated the exact same thing.

For the next hour, her routine didn't differ much.

She said her hello's, brought drinks out, put dishes in the dishwasher, cleaned tables, and worked the register. It was an easy pattern to follow, even if it wasn't an exact pattern. By 9AM, she could comfortably say she knew the majority of what she was doing. She put two more trays of cinnamon buns and muffins in the oven, as they were becoming more requested. Mona had to come out twice to show her something on the register as Rosemary wasn't sure, and greeted the breakfast crowd as well.

She gave Darren a good wack on the shoulder with her hand towel, and then they all shared a good laugh and carried on. Mona did look well rested now, much more alert. Martin must've been right about the nap.

Near the end of her shift, 11:45, students filed in to grab pastries and the likes from the display window below the register for their lunch break. As she handed them out to two dozen teenagers, Rosemary was grateful she had planned ahead.

She was so engrossed in each interaction that she didn't recognize the two boys until they were right in front of her. Jacob, with the long hair pulled back into a ponytail tucked under his jacket. And Quil, his curly hair covered by a beanie and hands fishing through his bag for money. "Hi," she beamed at them both. "Good to see you again."

Jacob stared at her for a moment before his brown eyes lit up with recognition. "You were with Seth yesterday," he stated, pointing a finger absently.

"Yeah, I'm staying with them for a while," Rosemary answered. She glanced at the line behind them, and quickly asked what they wanted.

While Quil continued to dig for his wallet, Jacob took the hint. "I'll get two of the blueberry muffins, and he'll get a cinnamon bun and a hot chocolate."

"Give me a second, I know I had it," Quil muttered, setting his bag down on the floor to make it easier.

Jacob just rolled his eyes and handed her $15, which she rang through and watched him nudge his friend over the side.

He waited there as he rang the next four students through, which seemed to be the end of the student line. "Where are you from?" Jacob asked her curiously, taking a bite out of one muffin. "Because I know you aren't from here and I'm pretty sure you aren't from Forks, either."

Rosemary smiled awkwardly. "No, I'm from California. I've never been here before."

With a small noise of triumph, Quil rose to his full height with his wallet in hand. "I told you I brought it," he stated, holding it out.

Jacob squinted at him. "I never said you didn't."

"You paid for my stuff; that clearly says you didn't believe I brought my wallet."

"I paid because the dumbasses behind us we're getting impatient. I didn't want them to get all snarky douchebag-ey."

"I don't believe you."

"Jesus Christ," Jacob rolled his eyes. "Rosemary, how many people were behind us again?"

"Four, I think," she answered.

"Exactly," Jacob huffed. "Paul was at the back of the line and I wasn't going to let her deal with that."

That? What even easy that?

But Quil seemed to know what he meant as his mouth formed an 'O'. "Yeah sorry about that," he said as he turned to face her, "I need to put it somewhere—" his eyes widened slightly as he looked at her, a light pink dusting his tanned cheeks "—uh, I need to put it somewhere I remember."

"It's okay," Rosemary told him, hiding a faint smile. "I never know what I do with mine either."

Quil cleared his throat several times, and then without anything further he turned and stumbled right out of the cafe.

The two stared after him, her with concern and Jacob with something akin to being baffled. "Is he sick or something?" Rosemary asked finally, turning to look at him. "I mean, Harry was saying a lot of kids were getting sick up in Forks, maybe he caught that?"

After a long moment of staring after his friend, who had disappeared around the corner, a slow but knowing grin lit up his face. "Oh, he caught something, alright," was all Jacob said, clearly fighting to keep his face neutral. "We'll see you tomorrow, Rosemary!"

"Sounds good!" She called back.

The moment he stepped onto the road, Quil had darted away from the side of the building with his face in his hands. He must've been saying something because Jacob's head tipped back in laughter, and he took a glance back at her before slinging an arm over his friends shoulders.

With a shake of her head, Rosemary went to spend her remaining half hour getting some things set up for Kim and the chef who would be working the evening.

AUTHORS NOTE:
songs mentioned in this story

     TAYLOR SWIFT: Wildest Dreams,    Soon you'll get better,    How you get the girl,   
     BETH CROWLEY: Gone,    Warrior,    Red
     MELANIE MARTINEZ: Tag, You're It

and then obviously I don't own any of the fictional characters mentioned above (if I did I wouldn't cry over them as much) or any others except my lil Rosemary bean and her wonky family :)