She tells her boss that she's down with the flu in a series of short, clipped texts, punctuated with a million typos---Felicity's usual messages never have typos, because she triple-checks every one in case of a rogue kill instead of kiss, even though the typos display the true wishes of her heart more often than not---to really sell the story. When the three green dots indicating Doug's reply appear on the screen, Felicity tosses her phone back into the pocket of her bell-bottoms without clicking. Her heart is a racehorse in her chest as she runs her fingers through the little yellow suitcase at her side, sifting through spare clothes and important documents.

In normal times, Felicity would never do this. She'd never lie to her boss. She'd never leave his messages unread. And she'd certainly never lock her door with shaky hands, rolling suitcase trundling along the pebbled road leading from her house as she heads to the bus stop to run away with a girl she's just met.

Clover had wanted to pick her up at her house, but there are some boundaries Felicity can't bring herself to cross---she's already crossing far too many, after all. So she waits at the bus stop, fifteen minutes early (because punctuality is the key to success. Or at least, that's what she's always been told, even though she's always been punctual and success is still yet to drop into her lap), foot tapping against the jagged pavement, chunks of cement breaking off in gritty little shards. Every time her parents ask her whether she's settled down with a nice man yet, Felicity likes to think of herself as one of those tiny chunks---rain and sun alike beating them down until they're little more than dust, helpless against the elements until they become part of the wind themselves, unable to do anything save for drifting along with the flow.

The summer breeze whipping her straggly brown hair away from her face is warm, but not unpleasantly so, already laced with the first hellos of the autumn to come. Felicity pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around her and glances at her screen, worry pinching her brows together. As expected, there are no messages from Clover, even when the clock crawls along to ten minutes past their supposed meeting time.

She probably pulled out and forgot to let me know. Maybe she's making a fool of me. Or maybe she decided to ghost me. All three options are equally likely, and as the numbers on her device flip and blur, Felicity debates the believability of dragging herself to the office and pretending she's made a miraculous recovery. Falling back into the routine, as much as she dreads it, seems a better idea than waiting for a car that will never come to run away with a girl who never wanted her in the first place.

Just as her finger rests over Doug's number to call him and let him know that she's all better after all, the loud screech of a horn slices through the air and almost knocks the phone from Felicity's fingers.

"Fern!" a familiar voice yells, and Felicity can almost taste lemon and springtime on her tongue, powdered glass shredding her vocal chords in half as a small pink Audi rolls into view, one tanned hand waving madly from the window. The car's barely stopped before Clover's leaping out, chunky black boots hitting the ground without a sound. Felicity envies that, how she can be so graceful and so brash at the same time, molten starlight intermingled with liquid smoke.

"Hey," Clover greets breathlessly, staring up at Felicity like she'd give her the moon. Out of the amber haze of the bar, she looks even better, somehow, violet hair a feathery tangle over her shoulders, onyx irises an uppercut in the mottled sunlight. Even without the blurry veneer of sex to cover them both, she's all smooth skin and honeyed curves, head just brushing Felicity's chin. "I am so incredibly sorry. My baby decided to be a little bitch and run around the house while I was trying to get him over to the neighbour's and---"

"Wait," Felicity says dumbly, the word heavy as lead in her mouth. "You have a baby?"

For a moment, Clover just stares. Then her mouth drops open, her glorious laughter echoing through the air like windchimes. "Sorry! I'm just so used to calling him my baby!" She grins, teeth wide and white, spilling out of her jaw like there's too much life in them as well. "I have a cat. His name's Meatball. He's cute when he wants food and gives me hell when I'm not feeding him. Like today, when I had to chase the little bastard through the entire house before I managed to wrestle him into his carrier." Clover huffs irritatedly, and Felicity tries not to think about how adorable she is.

"Sounds rough." Felicity waves Clover's hand away when she reaches for her suitcase---she's the older one, after all---opting to load it into the back herself even though her mind can't help wondering if Clover's boot is vacuum-cleaned (probably not) and if it's going to leave streaks of dirt on her case (probably yes). "I always wanted a cat, honestly."

"Really?" Clover starts, then interrupts herself with a quick, "Oh, come on, Fern, let me do this one thing for you," when Felicity starts to protest against Clover opening the passenger door for her, and the stare Clover gives her is so persuasive that she concedes. "Why didn't you get one?"

Oh, Felicity, her mother had always whispered, stroking her hair with nails shades too sharp and tugging at the strands she hadn't liked, How do you expect to take care of a pet when you can't even take care of yourself? It's going to end up needing us too, just like you do. And because lying's easier than unlocking the pandora's box of her mind, Felicity answers, hoping Clover doesn't hear the hesitance in her words, "Never had the time."

Clover nods understandingly before hopping into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind her. Felicity's not sure if it feels like a death toll or a new beginning, her old life scattered in her wake as Clover jams the key into the ignition and twists hard enough to ignite a fire in Felicity's chest. The car smells of cherry coke and pine, a combo evidently drifting from the tiny tree-shaped freshener dangling down Clover's rearview mirror. Water stains from overly wet hair and haphazard cleanups dot the tan leather seats, and Felicity can't help wincing at the sight.

It suits Clover, somehow, these carelessly-treated seats, as wild as her bright hair and even brighter eyes, and the cold grasp of fear wraps its unrelenting around Felicity's heart. Clover is careless. Dangerous. Impulsive. She's the type of person who sleeps with strangers and then asks them to run away with her. And the part that scares Felicity is that she's going along with it even though she knows she can't. That she shouldn't. She should be following the routine to the T: wake up, go to work, come home, shower, sleep, meals and toilet time in between. Not riding off into the sunset in a mysterious girl's water-stained car, armed with only a suitcase full of not nearly enough spare clothes and the pulse of her traitorous, yearning heart.

Her fingers itch to search for a pen and paper. Felicity operates in lists, in numbers and facts and schedules. It's what her parents have always ingrained in her, so you know what to do even when we're not around, rolling off a tongue just the slightest bit condescending, as if Felicity's some helpless waif who can't even tie her own shoelaces. In too many ways, they're not wrong.

But Clover's not on the list. None of this is---running away with a university student, six years younger, six inches shorter, six yards too impulsive. A girl who Felicity knows next to nothing about---and who knows even less about her.

I shouldn't be doing this.

"You know," Clover remarks easily, one hand lifting itself off the wheel to tuck a stray lock behind her ear, and Felicity manages to resist the urge to tell her to keep both hands in place (even if the very notion has her sweating and worrying about all the car accidents that could happen). "I didn't think you'd actually come."

I can't be doing this.

"Why?"

"Absolutely stunning girl going from my bed to my car? And she's all mine for a whole week?" Clover grins, fingernails tapping on the wheel. "Seems too much like a dream to be true. But if this is a dream, I never want to wake up."

I can't believe I'm doing this.

"You don't know me," Felicity reminds her, caution lining her voice.

"I don't care. I want to get to know you."

In the flickering sunlight, Clover looks like she's made of molten gold, violet hair a blazing halo around her heart-shaped face. A swath of skin, a shade paler than her bare arms, laps over the baby blue waistband of her high-waisted jeans. Felicity remembers running her fingertips over that smooth, smooth skin, pressing scarlet into the curve of Clover's neck, and she feels herself flush from head to toe. When she glances over, she realises Clover is staring at her, a cheeky smile affixed onto her crimson mouth, and her heartbeat instantly spikes.

"Shouldn't you be keeping your eyes on the road?" Felicity questions nervously. "Are you even old enough to drive? Can you drive? Do you want me to drive instead?"

Clover rolls her eyes playfully. "Yes, Mom, I am old enough to drive." Her lips tilt upwards in a sly smirk. "Or would you prefer Mommy, perhaps?"

Felicity's words come out in a mess of splutters, cheeks burning scarlet. Clover laughs until she doubles over, forehead nearly thumping into the steering wheel. Her hair falls into her face, and Felicity resists the urge to brush it away. She's already fallen in too deep. She can't afford to tumble any further.

"So," Clover drawls as they cruise past a cluster of particularly-boring trees---Felicity knows they're nowhere near the sea yet, due to the frantic six a.m. Googling session that she'd never admit to---wheel pressed between the tips of her fingers. "Did you have any plans this week?"

"Ah..." Felicity's voice catches in her throat as she remembers that she hasn't texted her mother yet, and she mentally curses herself for forgetting something so important. "I was supposed to go for dinner with my parents on Tuesday. I guess I'll have to cancel."

Clover tilts her head to the side, a teasing grin playing over the violin strings of her perfectly kissable mouth---even though Felicity really shouldn't be thinking about things like that. "You sound a bit too happy about that."

Her tone's light, an attempt at a joke, but her words cut a bit too deep. Felicity stiffens in her seat, and Clover seems to feel it too, because her smile instantly vanishes. "Oh, shit, sorry. Sorry. Sensitive topic?"

"Don't worry. It's okay," Felicity hurries to clarify. "I just..." She switches her gaze to the window, because it's easier than staring into Clover's concerned eyes even though Clover really should be focusing on the road. Outside, the leaves are already beginning to ripple orange and brown, a few emerald-spotted stragglers drifting from their branches. The end of summer draws too near, so close that Felicity could reach out and grab it. "My parents and I...don't have the best relationship. They've never approved of my life choices. Especially when I came out. Or rather, tried to." She can still hear it in the back of her mind, as clear as day, spoken in her mother's pinched forehead and her father's grating frown: Sweetie, it's okay. It's just a phase. You'll be okay soon, once this wears off. We'll all be okay. And in all twenty-eight years of her life, Felicity has never known what okay is, because whatever it is, she's not it.

When Clover remains silent, Felicity offers her a rueful smile to soothe the sting of her words. "It's okay. They're not bad people or anything. They've done a lot for me, and I really appreciate it, so I mean, I can do this one little thing for them---"

"How is hiding a huge part of yourself a little thing?" Clover bursts, and around the wheel, Felicity notices her knuckles have gone white.

"It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal and you know it."

Felicity winces. Clover notices, because she's suddenly all soft again, sympathetic glances and reaching palms. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just..."

The words go unsaid. Felicity wants to kick herself. She's supposed to be Fern---cool, confident Fern, who certainly doesn't go around squawking to the most stunning girl she's ever met about how her parents have always tried to keep her sexuality under wraps. She's supposed to be okay, just like her parents have always told her they would all be if she just gave up on girls and started liking men like a normal person. But in the end, she's still Felicity Farr, nothing more than a pathetic shitstain smeared over the ground. "Sorry," Felicity apologises, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "I didn't mean to bring that up."

"Fuck, Fern, don't ever apologise for that, okay?" Clover insists. "You can bring up anything you want. Seriously. I mean, come on, I'll be the first to admit that I've got huge mommy issues. Why would I judge you for bringing up your parents?" She shoots Felicity a dazzling grin, one that turns her knees to jelly. "Fuck them, by the way."

The laugh that bubbles from Felicity's lips surprises herself more than Clover. She shouldn't---shouldn't be chuckling after Clover's essentially just cursed her parents out, because she's supposed to be a dutiful daughter and everything, but...it's freeing, somehow, to laugh at these kinds of things. And when Clover's small, warm palm lifts Felicity's hand off her lap and intertwines their fingers together, her heart races out of her chest and flies to the sky.

"Tell me something," Clover says, her eyes sparkling above the backdrop of her beautiful smile.

"Like...something about me, or...?"

"It's up to you. Tell me anything. I just want to hear you talk. You've got a gorgeous voice," Clover replies flippantly, making Felicity blush.

She wracks her brain for something that would be appropriately boring, like the number of siblings she has (none), her favourite colour (yellow, no matter how many times she claims it's really white), or that she secretly detests her boss (which has been made pretty obvious by the night before). Instead, what comes out of her mouth is, "Did you know that M&Ms started off as military rations?"

No one wants to hear your useless history facts, darling, her parents have always insisted, and Felicity wants to sink into the nearest hole and die for even breathing something like this to Clover---stunning, wild, careless Clover, who no doubt couldn't care less about useless history facts.

"That's so cool," Clover breathes, and when Felicity glances at her, her eyes are wide. She looks interested. "I didn't know that."

Felicity knows she should stop her mouth before it runs too far, but she continues on, words tripping over each other on their way past her lips, "Yeah. The coating on them is so hard because it was easy to transport them, and soldiers loved them because they were really high-calorie, so they gave them a big energy boost."

"That's really interesting!" Clover chirps. "How do you know that?"

Felicity peers down at her lap, hardly daring to meet Clover's bright gaze. "I love history."

"And I love seeing you talk about something you love." Clover squeezes her hand tightly, and Felicity feels the current like a shock to her heart, lightning in a bottle. "Tell me a new fact every day. Or whenever you want to."

"They're really boring."

"Nothing about you is boring." Clover pulls over at a building Felicity doesn't recognise, a neon sign lighting up the morning air with zaps of white and green. A convenience store, undoubtedly. "Want to get some snacks for the road?"

Felicity doesn't eat snacks. It messes with her diet and one bite of candy puts about a million new stretch marks around her waist. But because Clover's staring at her like a child on Christmas Day and Felicity is beginning to realise that she is really fucking whipped, she swallows her fears away and answers, "Okay."

Clover gets an armful of the same brand of chips, waving at Felicity cheerily from their little yellow bags as Clover insists they're the best inventions ever given to the world. Felicity gets a packet of mints and calls it a day. Clover scrunches up her nose at that but doesn't question it. (Felicity appreciates it more than she'll ever admit.)

When they get back in the car, Clover leaves the windows open. Felicity doesn't protest. She just breathes in the scent of the sky, the falling leaves kissing her face like a lover sent to war as she bids goodbye to her personal winter and reaches for the summer ahead, even if she knows it'll end too soon.

❥

By the time they get to the seaside, the sun's already drooping low in the sky, champagne pink turning the world to gold. Clover parks in front of a cozy villa that looks way too nice for a university student's wallet, eliciting an eyebrow raise from Felicity.

"What? I'm rich," Clover answers. When Felicity ups her eyebrow game just a notch more, Clover rolls her eyes playfully and sighs, "Okay, fine. I've got a friend who owes me one. She agreed to let me use her beach house for my impromptu disappearance from the face of the earth."

"Did you tell her that you were bringing guests?"

"Why would I?"

Felicity frowns. Maybe this was a mistake after all. Scratch that, it was definitely a mistake. "Well, it's only common courtesy, especially when---"

"I'm kidding," Clover chuckles, twisting the key out of the ignition. "Of course I told her. Well, I texted her after I finally managed to get Meatball into his carrier and she was like, It's fine, just don't have sex on my bed even though I know you won't listen to me which means that we absolutely have to have sex on her bed."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Clover shoots a devilish wink in her direction. "I know." She snatches Felicity's hand up, tugging on it urgently. Warmth blossoms in Felicity's chest, a fire that refuses to fade. "Come on! Let's go check out our new digs!"

They enter the tiny beach house like two puzzle pieces that could never even dream of fitting together: Felicity cautiously creeping in as she surreptitiously scans the sand-coloured sofas for bedbugs, Clover flinging the doors open like she owns the place as she makes a beeline for the bedroom, nothing but a backpack bouncing on her back.

"Didn't you bring spare clothes?" Felicity calls after her as she gingerly carries her suitcase in, afraid to track dirt over the polished wooden floors, so shiny she can almost see her own reflection even through the thin layer of dust settling over them.

"Yeah! They're all in here!" Clover reappears in the doorway of the living room, patting her backpack lovingly. She gestures towards an empty corner, framed by creamy carpet and plush white walls. "You can leave your luggage there!" She evidently notices Felicity's wince at that, because her nose scrunches. "Or not. You don't have to be so afraid of dirtying the place, you know. Vanessa---that's my friend---trashes it every single time she comes here, and she insists a house doesn't become a home unless it's got some mess in it. And we'll clean up before we leave. Vacuum and everything. So..."

Felicity thinks of her own house, neat as a pin, more walls than life in it. Not a single thing out of place, no knicknacks lining the permanently-empty shelves, every sheet folded into crisp quarters. To her, it's always been a home. But maybe it's because she's always lived this way, clearing the individuality out of her room like how her parents flush the individuality out of her soul---it's something she'll always have control over, something that isn't midnight phone calls like a knife in her chest and oh, Felicity, things would be so much simpler if you just listened to us, but it's okay, we'll all be okay, we'll be we'll be we'll be okay okay okay---

"Or how about the bedroom?" Clover suggests, snapping Felicity back to reality. "It's all wood, so it'll be easier to clean up later if you're worried about that. You can be closer to your clothes too!" She winks, sending a flush rippling up Felicity's neck as her desire tears her apart from the inside. "Plus, we can check out the bed while we're at it."

Felicity laughs, the sound strangling itself in her throat, still choked with the thoughts of days she's never quite managed to leave behind. "You're terrible."

"And you love me for it. Come on, Fern!" Clover grabs her hand eagerly, nearly making her drop her suitcase, and pulls her towards the bedroom. Felicity feels her pulse quickening in Clover's warm grip. She wonders what it would be like to press their wrists together, to let their twin heartbeats flow together as one, to lose herself in the wax and wane of the tides---drifting, drifting, drifting.

The bedroom is small but cozy, plush white sheets stretched over a classy wooden frame, two wardrobes and a tiny desk set up around the walls. Felicity just stares. "There's only one bed."

Clover gives her an incredulous look, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "We literally fucked the entire night and you're worried about there being one bed?"

"That's not what I..." Felicity swallows thickly, hugging her suitcase to her chest like a shield. "I mean..."

Concern flickers in Clover's eyes. "Do you want me to take the sofa? If you're uncomfortable with sharing the bed, I really don't mind. Spent most of college couch-hopping, anyway."

Felicity shakes her head rapidly, hating he way her hair flops into her face. "It's not that. I just---" I was supposed to be okay. We were all supposed to be okay. I don't know if I can be okay if you're this close to me. I think I made a mistake. I think I might throw up. "It's fine. I'm just...not used to this."

Clover gently tugs the suitcase from her hands and places it next to the left side of the bed, and Felicity almost hates the fact that Clover's guessed where she prefers sleeping on first try. (The left is always closer to the door. It gives her time to plan her escape route if anything happens.) She turns to Felicity, those bright eyes melting into something softer as she wraps Felicity's palms in her own. "Listen, Fern, you can talk to me, okay? If I do anything you don't like, let me know, and I'll stop immediately."

A dry chuckle escapes Felicity's lips, a lump rising up in her throat. "I'm just new to this. It's not every day that I run away with someone I don't know."

"I'd say we got to know each other very well last night," Clover jokes, and Felicity can't help the bark of laughter she lets out at that. Clover is addictive, somehow, a drug stronger than alcohol could ever be. She makes Felicity dizzy. She makes her lose herself. She makes her want more and more and more. So when Clover taps her wrist lightly, pointing to the orange-gold glass of their---holy shit, their---bedroom window, begging, "Can we go watch the sunset on the beach?" Felicity finds herself giving in, as she always does. But it's different, somehow. For a moment, she is not Felicity Farr, cowardly and pathetic and perfectly molded to the shape of her parents. She is Fern, a phoenix born again in the embers of the storm as Clover tugs her out the door, her clarion laughter a lighthouse in the night.

The sand is gritty beneath her flats, and her feet sink uncomfortably into the ground. Amber and bronze drips over the waves, coral rising high in the sky like the flush in Clover's tanned cheeks as they stare out into the hanging sun, disappearing behind the horizon in a gilded hurricane. A prelude to the stars.

In the silence of the sea, Felicity feels a little out of place. The waves break the shore in slow, lapping pulses, so wild and so free, and she wonders how they fits into her perfectly-arranged life, dull and blunt as a shaved blade. How Clover fits into that life. How much she'll have to leave behind, past and present crashing against each other like the drag of the tides.

"The water looks gorgeous," Clover remarks, a mischievous twinkle in her onyx eyes. Before Felicity can agree, Clover's yanking her top over her head and shucking her jeans to her ankles, boots tossed to the wind, ignoring Felicity's audible wince as her clothes tangle themselves with the sand. Her blazing hair spills over her shoulders, silhouetted in the falling sun. She steps into the light, bronze skin painted gold, nothing but a white bra and panties hugging her full figure.

Felicity can't help the way her gaze trails over Clover's lush form, soaking in every detail, from the curve of her belly to the flare of her hips and the arch of her legs. She stands stock-still, frozen in place by Clover's beauty until Clover calls out to her, breaking her trance. "Are you coming?"

"Ah..." Felicity's words stick to the roof of her mouth. She gulps. "I think I'll pass." She can't bear the thought of saltwater stiffening her underwear, and the idea of sand in her hair is almost too much to bear.

Clover shrugs casually, but Felicity catches the momentary disappointment flashing across her face. "Suit yourself." And then she is running, a goddess sculpted from salt air and summer as she streaks across the sand and dives into the waves, the sea pulling her into its briny embrace as she melts into the cerulean tides.

Felicity watches her as she dances among the waves, a mermaid with nothing more than a name. Something heavy clings to her heart, weighing it down in her chest. They're moving too fast, doing too much. She shouldn't be feeling like this, when every laugh bubbling from Clover's lips clashes with everything she's been taught, discordant against the duly-repeated mantras in her mind. She was supposed to be okay. They all were. This---this isn't okay, not when another girl's skin feels too right against her own and her voice dictates Felicity's dreams.

But as the sea breeze kisses her cheeks and forges Clover's giggles into her bones, Felicity wonders if this is really just a beautiful dream. She wonders why she never wants to wake up.

word count: 4595 words
cumulative words: 8436 words (WHY AM I ALREADY AT MILESTONE 2 IT'S ONLY CHAPTER 2 😭😭😭)

'a prelude to the stars' is possibly the best line i've ever written, i might as well just leave now because nothing i do will ever top this tbh

i've got a new update schedule! (finally) Aeipathy will get updates once a week, on Saturdays/Sundays (cause a hoe is indecisive) at 9am EST! this is because i have exams going on atm and also because i have two entries to work on lol

do you want actual plot? then this is not the book for you! :D this is again, more of a mood piece than an actual 'book' and is really more of a 'progression of a relationship' type of story than anything else, because The Balance Game has so much going on that i literally need some downtime with Aeipathy lmfao. so anygays there is still like. a plot. if you look hard enough. i'm doing this for the gays 🤙

fun fact: i stopped writing with music because i literally cannot concentrate (and i hate classical music so pls don't suggest that) which makes me so upset cause i LOVE writing with music in the bg but i just can't focus on the writing. THEN onlyoneof saved my life again (as they always do, i only stan kings 💅), because i realised that their soft sexy type of music is PERFECT for playing in the background while i write AND it doesn't distract me at all! (only downside: everything i write becomes RIDICULOUSLY sexy AND I WAS EDITING THIS IN PUBLIC TOO 😭😭😭)

so stan onlyoneof for good writing music and an impeccable discography (we ignore the existence of Instinct Part 2 in this house because there is literally only one playable song in that album. suit dance was way too good for that disaster. and FORK skinz. how tf did we go from Instinct Part 1 being a straight up 1000/10 to the dumpster fire that was Part 2 smh---like---Love didn't even produce??? how did him leaving affect y'alls music THAT much like what. Oneus bout to go the same way now that Ravn's gone cause mans was ACTUALLY carrying the producing on his back)

HI OKAY SO BACK ON TOPIC hello!!! thank you for all the support on Aeipathy and being so nice! (uwu) i really really appreciate all your comments and support, even though i may not be able to reply super quickly (cause exams 😭) like thank you sm i love y'alls jhshdhsksh

as always, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! constructive criticism, feedback, and general thoughts are always appreciated!

good luck to my fellow onc bbys, and i'll see you next week with another Aeipathy update!

xoxo, Alex