long chapter for you loves ♡ warning for non-explicit sexual themes (?) 

*

On Valentine's Day, Andy decides she wants to take things further with Rhysand.

More than the fleeting touches and soft kisses—she loves all of those, and she loves how careful he is with her, but although she's nervous, she wants to do more, and she wants it with Rhysand.

She doesn't mind sharing her naked body with someone who already fell in love with her naked soul.

Rhysand had said before that he thinks Valentine's Day is just an ordinary day with the pinks and the reds. But though he thinks it's lame, he agrees to go on a date with Andy anyway.

He picks her up from work in a dress shirt and slacks with gel in his hair and red roses and a small teddy bear in his hand. They go to a nice restaurant packed with people and eat expensive steak and wine. Then they go for ice cream afterwards in their fancy clothes and play footsie underneath the table.

At home, Andy puts the bear to sleep on Rhysand's bed, strips off her dress and makeup and drowns herself in Rhysand's comfortable clothes, tying her hair up in a bun. Barefoot, she pads down the staircase and joins Rhysand on the sofa, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

He's still in his dress shirt and slacks and he looks so handsome that Andy wants to jump him.

The thought makes her cheeks heat. She clears her throat.

"What?" Rhysand murmurs, fingers playing with her hair. His eyes are focused on the television.

Andy turns her head and brushes her lips along the curve of his neck. "Thank you for spending Valentine's with me. I know it's not your thing, but you went along with it, anyway."

Rhysand smooths his hand down her back, curling around the nape of her neck and toying with the metal of her necklace. "I told you it's 'cause I'm dating a romantic."

Andy bites her lip and thinks about what she wants to say next.

Rhysand must have noticed her anxiousness. He pulls back with a frown and asks, "What's bothering you? You've been quiet since the ride home."

Because Andy doesn't know how to tell him without wanting the ground to swallow her up. Her cheeks are flaming red and she can't look him in the eye. "Nothing," she mutters, turning toward the television and hugging her knees to her chest.

She'll tell him another time.

Rhysand presses, "Sunshine, did I do something wrong?"

Andy takes a deep breath. No, not another time. If she leaves this brewing in her thoughts, she'll go crazy with bottling it up and she promised Rhysand she'd tell him whatever's on her mind—

"Sanford." Rhysand sounds worried. "What did I—"

Screw it.

Andy gathers all of her courage and bravery and pushes Rhysand's shoulders, swinging her leg over his body to straddle his lap.

Rhysand's eyebrows raise, but his hands go to her waist as he looks up at her with questioning eyes.

Andy presses her body to his and leans forward to kiss him.

Rhysand kisses her back as softly, as easily as she had come to him. Andy loves the feeling of his kisses—intense, gentle, sweet and obnoxious, all at once.

She curls her hand around the nape of his neck and presses harder, opening her mouth to him when he asks.

But Rhysand squeezes her waist and pulls back, eyebrows drawn together. "Baby, what was that?"

Andy decides to be honest. No matter how embarrassing it is, she wants to be honest. "Why don't you ever do anything?" she mumbles, fisting her hands on his shirt. "You always hold yourself back and you never say or ask me to do anything—"

"It's too soon," he says abruptly, shaking his head. Soft strands fall into his forehead.

Andy purses her lips. "Rhys..."

"Let me go, sunshine."

"Rhys, I promise I don't think that way anymore," Andy rushes out to say, pushing his shoulders back against the couch when he tries to push her off. Rhysand sighs and sends her a flat look. "I know that's why you're always careful with me, why you never try to do anything more than I'm comfortable with."

He doesn't respond. His hands lay on the sofa and Andy wants them back on her body.

Andy whines. "It's just...I want to. With you. I'm nervous, and it's my first time, but I want to."

Rhysand stares at her. "So you want to have sex with me? Right now?"

She knows he's not trying to embarrass her, but it has the same effect anyway. Andy shuts her eyes and blushes, but she fights the embarrassment and breathes, "No, not yet. Not right now."

"Then what do you want?"

Andy swallows the lump in her throat.

Finally, Rhysand takes one of her hands. Gently, he tells her, "You gotta tell me, sunshine. I can't read your mind."

"I don't know," Andy mumbles, meeting his gaze. "Just stop holding yourself back."

"I don't get it, Sanford," Rhysand answers with a sigh.

Groaning, Andy grabs his face and says, "I want you to do what you want! Stop being a gentleman all the damn time, what you want, I want it too! I know you're doing it for my sake, because this is my first relationship, I have insecurity issues and you don't want to scare me away, but I want to. As long as it's with you."

Rhysand stares at her. "Okay."

Andy blinks and lets go of his cheeks. "Okay?"

"Okay," Rhysand repeats quietly with a nod, sliding his hand under her hoodie. "As long as you're sure. As long as you promise to tell me to stop the second you don't like what's happening. Okay?"

Andy nods. "I promise."

"C'mere," he whispers, kissing her again.

Rhysand's hands don't stay on her waist and he kisses parts of her body she's never been kissed before. And they keep their clothes on, but Rhysand rocks their hips together until Andy's breathless and panting and seeing stars for the first time.

*

When her birthday comes, Andy doesn't even realize it.

Singh gave the class a heavy presentation to work on for a week—to be presented on her birthday, the 3rd, from six to nine in the evening. With this weighing heavily on her mind, Andy spent her days preparing for it—hours in the library, nose stuck in books and notes and eyes blearily blinking at the laptop screen, working in the dorm where her roommates are afraid to bother her—knowing they wouldn't receive a response, studying her cheat sheets while waiting for customers to arrive at Baked!, and even practicing in front of Rhysand when she could squeeze in the time to make a visit. But just once.

And because they were both busy this time, their texts never seem to meet each other. Rhysand messages at five in the morning and Andy replies at nine. Rhysand will get back to her at one, and Andy sends her reply at four. Rhysand will message again at eight, and Andy will answer at eleven, and she'd have to wait 'til the morning for his response.

Their half-hearted, distracted messages don't mean any less—they were both busy. They both understood.

And so Andy only remembered she's turning twenty when her father called. She was doing a mock presentation in front of the mirror in her dorm room when the phone rang. Andy stopped the timer (it was at eight minutes and six seconds) and answered the call. "Hi, Dad."

"Are you busy, kiddo?"

"No, not really," she said distractedly, taking a sip of her coffee. She looked at her notes again and squeezed the phone between her ear and shoulder. "What's up?"

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Andy scrunched her nose. "Nothing, Dad. I actually have a big presentation for class that day in the evening."

He clicked his tongue. "I see. Well, I can deliver home cooked meals to you so you and your friends can eat them at the dorm. How does that sound?"

"Great, Dad, thank you so much," she muttered, eyes focused on her screen, "I miss your cooking."

"You were just here about a month ago," he told her, scoffing. "I'll send money to your account, too. Buy something for yourself, sweetheart."

Andy frowned and stood up, walking to the window. She leaned against it and laid her head against the wall. "Dad, no. I have enough money for myself. I work, remember?"

Her dad sighs. "This is a gift. It's your 20th. I may not know much about what you want to buy, but I can give you this much. Let me, okay?"

"Dad, I don't need a gift..."

"Andrea."

"Okay, fine, no need to say my name like that," Andy said, defeated. "But not too much, okay?"

He laughed. "Okay. Go and study, kid. Love you."

"Love you, Dad. Bye!"

Andy put the phone down and took a deep breath. She restarted the timer and holding her notes, she began her mock presentation once again.

On the morning of the 3rd, Andy doesn't notice she's a year older, and it's only upon seeing hearty greetings from her father and roommates and five missed calls from Rhysand, that she realizes she accidentally fell asleep through her alarm and has already missed her first period.

Andy scrambles to shower and get ready. She double, triple checks her bag to make sure she's ready for the presentation tonight. Facing the mirror, Andy smooths her dress down and takes a deep breath.

There's something brewing at the pit of her stomach. She takes a deep breath again and tries to smile at her reflection.

But the space between her fingers is damp with sweat, and Andy reaches up to clutch her blouse where her heart lays beneath, taking another, and another, and another deep breath.

Andy doesn't have time for an attack. She straightens, closes her hands in fists and opens them again, and leaves her building.

She makes it through her remaining classes before lunch with difficulty—but nothing she can't handle. Her leg is shaking underneath the table, and sometimes, her vision blurs with the need to breathe—but otherwise, Andy is fine. She can make it through tonight. It's just a presentation. Or so she tries to tell herself.

Andy gets back to Rhysand at lunch and calls him.

"Sunshine," he answers immediately, and Andy's body falters at his voice. She wants to see him.

"Hey, I'm sorry," she mutters quietly. "I fell asleep through my alarm and missed my first period. I'm actually still prepping for my presentation tonight."

Rhysand hums. "Have you eaten?"

"No, not yet," Andy breathes out, shutting her eyes. "I'm too nervous."

"Hey, you're going to do great," Rhysand says softly, and Andy knows he means it. "You're smarter than all those other fuckers. You're prepared, and you worked hard for this. I'll pick you up afterwards and we can celebrate your birthday, alright?"

Birthday. Right, she's twenty today. Andy nods. "Okay," she says, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I love you," he reminds her, and Andy can hear the smile in his voice. "Don't be nervous. You'll kill it. Bye."

And before her six o'clock class, Rhysand sends her a message with a picture of himself. For your motivation. Good luck, baby. You can do it :)

Andy smiles and saves the picture. She hangs her head and closes her eyes, taking another deep breath, before entering the bustling classroom.

She can't find the will to listen to the other students who come before her. She's seeing the lines in her head, practicing silently, visualizing her slides.

When her name is called, Andy scrambles to stand up, bringing her laptop with her, and her fingers shake while she's plugging the projector in.

Singh is seated right in front of her. His arms are crossed, and there's a blank notebook right in front of him. His eyebrows are set in a permanent frown, and his eyes are sweeping from her head to toe. Andy shifts her weight from one foot to the other, desperate to know what he's thinking.

It's impossible to know. She just hopes she does a good job and, for once, doesn't screw up.

Andy inhales and exhales heavily. Then she smiles brightly and begins.

*

Rhysand, for the first time since he started, gets off work early.

Sage raises an eyebrow. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah," Rhysand says, packing his bag. "Asked the boss already."

"Special occasion?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "Girlfriend's birthday."

Sage laughs once. "Tell her I said happy birthday. Drive safe, man."

"Will do." Rhysand gives him a salute and leaves Sterling, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

He gets to the school's parking lot earlier than expected. He unwraps a lollipop from his bag and sticks it into his mouth, then rummages his bag for his birthday gift to Sanford. He smiles this time—he knows she'll love his surprise.

Rhysand leans against the Jeep and texts her, letting her know he's waiting outside. It's nearly nine now, she should be on the way to him in a few minutes.

He's right—five after nine and he sees her figure walking towards him, a bright smile already painted on her face. Rhysand's shoulders relax upon seeing her face—they've been too busy these past few weeks.

She almost runs to him once she's near, and throws her arms around his neck. Rhysand buries his head on her hair and inhales her scent, shutting his eyes at the feeling of her warm body.

Sanford clutches the back of his shirt. "Hi," she whispers in his ear.

The hair on Rhysand's neck stands up. "Sunshine," he answers back, squeezing her tighter. "How'd it go?"

"It was fine," she says quickly, pulling back to smile at him.

But Rhysand's composure falters—her eyes look dead.

"Thank you for picking me up," Sanford says, keeping the same smile on her face, sliding her hand down to his, interlacing their fingers. Her voice is the same, sounds the same—cheerful, happy, excited. Everything she is and should be.

But her eyes scare him. What happened?

Sanford blinks at him. "Hey. Rhys. You okay?"

Rhysand should be asking her that. He shakes his head and attempts a smile back despite his worry. "Happy birthday," he says instead, gripping her fingers.

She bows her head bashfully. "Thank you."

Quietly, he hands her his gift and waits for her reaction.

Sanford stares at the signed album from Just Jupiter and the two VIP passes to his concert in her hand. Then, she looks at him, smiles wider, and says, "Thank you so much. I love it." She leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the cheek. She tosses the gifts inside her bag and grins at him. "Where are we going?"

Rhysand is—Rhysand is worried. This is not Sanford. This is not—this is not how his sunshine is. He bites the rest of the lollipop and takes out the stick. "You'll see. Come on." He opens the door for her.

In the car, she should be blasting songs. She should be talking his ear off about her presentation—he knows how much she prepared for it. She should be telling him about Singh, and she should be ecstatic about finishing the presentation and getting a good mark for it.

But Sanford is quiet. She keeps her hand on Rhysand's, but her fingers are limp and unmoving. She stares out the window.

It's clear it didn't go as well as she hoped. As they hoped. Still, Rhysand keeps his mouth shut. Sanford will talk to him when she wants to—he's not going to push it.

Especially not when he's driving her to her own party.

MJ and Sabina contacted him a week ago. It was MJ who spoke first—asking if he was free to pick up Sanford from school today to drive her to the rented bar. He said yes, and she told him the plan.

Sabina cut in to ask, "And, uh, what are you allergic to?"

Rhysand paused. "Sorry?"

"Allergies," Sabina repeated impatiently. "Do you have any? We're ordering food, and I don't want Andy's boyfriend to suddenly have to rush to the hospital because of an allergy."

Rhysand let her have this excuse. He answered, "I'm not allergic to anything."

"Good, then," Sanford's roommate said, clearing her throat. "We'll see you at the party. Bye."

Sanford loves birthdays and parties and shit like that. She'll want to spend her 20th with her friends—even if that included Bash.

Rhysand brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. Sanford looks at him and gives him a sweet smile.

When they arrive at the place MJ texted him, it's quiet and dark. Rhysand isn't a fan of surprise parties, but, again, Sanford loves this shit. "Rhys, where are we?" she asks softly, gripping his arm.

"Come on," Rhysand says instead, pulling her inside.

The room lights up brightly that it blinds Rhysand a bit when they walk in, and a collective yell of, "Happy birthday, Andy!" startles his girlfriend so much that she jumps and hides behind his back.

She puts her hands to her face upon seeing her friends. This time, Rhysand heaves a sigh of relief. There's a genuine smile on her face. "Guys!"

MJ and Sabina rush over to her, wearing party hats and holding the gigantic cake. They hug her first, and the redhead kisses her forehead. "Happy birthday, bub. I can't believe you're twenty!"

Piper, Bash, Sam, Kat, Johann, and Jenner all take turns greeting Sanford personally, all the while the music is booming and the food is set on the table—ready for the taking. Rhysand leaves her with her friends—she needs this, and it's her birthday. She deserves it.

Rhysand is glad she has MJ and Sabina as friends. They clearly know how important this is to her—no matter how late Sanford's class ends and how hectic and tiring party preparations can be.

Rhysand offered to help, but MJ politely declined. "We know you're busy," she said kindly, and though they didn't get along at first, Rhysand knows she's a good person who's trying to make amends. For Sanford's sake. "So don't worry and just bring her to the place."

Jenner joins him at the bar with a grin as Rhysand keeps watching Sanford interact with her guests. They're not many, but Rhysand knows she treasures each of them and vice versa. He orders them both a drink. "What'd she say about the gift?"

Rhysand looks at his roommate. "She loved it," he lies through his teeth, not having the heart to tell Jenner about her real reaction. He doesn't want to bring up an issue he and Sanford can work out together after this.

"'Course she did," Jenner says, clapping him on the back. He grabs his glass and downs it one shot. "Dude, I'm glad it's Andy and no one else. I mean, I love my cousin, but look at her. She's vibrant as shit everywhere."

Rhysand stares at his girlfriend. Her smile and laughter pierce through his heart. He's glad and relieved she's alright—at least, for now. "I know," he mutters, taking his own glass. "Walked into my life and sprinkled sunshine everywhere."

His roommate laughs and leans against the bar. Watches Sanford, too. "Damn right."

Sabina walks over to them. She looks at Rhysand evenly. "Hey. Thanks for picking her up."

"No problem," Rhysand says truthfully, raising his glass to her. "I agreed to the plan. Thanks for doing this for her. She's happy."

"Yeah," her friend agrees. "Uh, feel free to eat and drink and do whatever, 'kay? You guys don't need to be so uncomfortable. You're important to Andy, too. Makes you important to us."

Rhysand nods at her. "Thanks. Will do."

Sabina smiles at him and asks for a drink before leaving for the dance floor, where MJ and Sanford are already waiting. The rest of the guests mingle with each other, too.

Jenner stands up. "I'm going to get food. Want anything?"

"Whatever you're getting."

"Got it. Make Andy eat, too."

The corner of his lips turn up as he watches her dance with her best friends. 

Rhysand finishes his drink in one go. He can't ask for more since he's driving, so he stops at that and asks for soda instead.

It's a surprise, because Rhysand plans on staying at the bar alone until Sanford is ready to go home, not wanting to disturb her moment with her friends—but they themselves approach him and introduce themselves. Apparently, Jenner had already met them before he and Sanford came.

Piper has her arm around her boyfriend, Sam. Her eyes twinkle at him. "You should watch out for Andy's drinking tonight."

Sam shakes his hand. "I'll be looking out for this one, too."

Kat, the artist, eyes him from head to toe. "Well, you're as handsome as she keeps describing."

Rhysand tilts his head to the side. "Thanks...?"

"It's a compliment," she assures him, nodding.

Johann is a cheerful fucker, and Bash even smiles at him and engages him in a conversation. Rhysand doesn't find this as annoying as he thought—and because it's Sanford's birthday, he answers them politely. He doesn't want to fight anyone.

Apparently, Bash thinks it's funny and admirable how Rhysand races to Sanford's rescue that night of Sam's party, and Johann thinks they look good together.

Which is. Funny. Rhysand clears his throat.

Sanford saddles up to him, her face bright with happiness and shining with sweat. She's bouncing on her feet and taking his hands to hers. "Thank you," she breathes, swinging their arms together. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She throws herself onto his body—and Rhysand is prepared for this, so he catches her with ease. "Thank you so much, I love you."

"I didn't do anything," Rhysand tells her, drawing his eyebrows together.

Sanford shakes her head. "You being here and talking to my friends is enough. God, I love you."

Rhysand runs a hand down her back and takes a deep breath. "Happy birthday," he mutters again.

Sam whistles loudly in their direction. "Hey, lovebirds! The birthday girl has to blow out her candles!"

Sanford squeals excitedly and pulls his arm. Hard. "Come on, come on!"

Rhysand follows, a smile on his lips. They all gather around the cake with a single lighted candle sitting on top of the frosting. Sanford clasps her hands together. "Um, first of all, I want to thank you guys so much for being here, and to Sab and MJ, for organizing this whole thing. You all mean the world to me. Thank you."

They cheer for her. Rhysand keeps his hand on her waist and squeezes. "Make your wish," he murmurs in her ear.

"Okay," she breathes, smiling so wide. Sanford closes her eyes in concentration.

Rhysand doesn't know what she wishes for, but whatever it is, he prays to whoever the hell is up there to make it come true.

He kisses the top of her head, and Sanford blows out the candle, and her friends clap and sing for her again.

Then they bring her to the bar, and Sabina shouts for drinks from the bartender.

Jenner clinks his glass to Rhysand's can of soda. "And here we go. The birthday girl drinking her shots."

Rhysand looks at him. "Twenty?" he asks incredulously. There's no way they're making her drink that much. And besides, Sanford won't do it. She knows her limits.

Jenner shrugs. "That's usually the case, isn't it?"

Rhysand scoffs. "Sanford has already been drunk. She knows when to stop now."

"Don't make her if she doesn't, Rhys," his roommate tells him, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. "You can take her home drunk."

He can, that's true. But that's not the problem.

Sanford has a low tolerance. Drinking too many shots is...that's not healthy. That's worrisome. Rhysand knows Sanford won't take it.

MJ and Sabina shove the first shot glass to her. Sanford looks reluctant in taking it, but the circle of friends around her cheer for her to do so. She downs it with furrowed eyebrows, disgust evident in her face.

Jenner whistles lowly. "I've never seen her do that before."

Rhysand watches her have her fun. As long as she wants to drink and isn't being pressured to do it, and as long as she can take it, then there's no problem.

But she's only in her seventh glass and she's already swaying heavily, eyes drooping. Her friends push her for an eighth.

Sanford shakes her head, smiling dazedly, but Piper and MJ probe her to continue. "Just three more and you can do the rest of the half later!" Sabina yells.

Half? Jesus, she can't even finish ten. It's not—that's not right.

Jenner purses his lips. "She can finish ten. Then maybe she shouldn't do the other half later. Rhys, you can take it."

"I'm driving," Rhysand mutters. "And there's no half. She's not doing any more half. She's swaying already, for God's sake."

Sanford drinks the eighth. Her friends are hollering. MJ asks if she's good and can take two more. Sanford blinks several times, and after looking around, nods once.

"She's fucking drunk," Rhysand says, placing his can down. "No more." He stands up to go over to the bar, but Jenner grips his arm.

"Rhys, don't—"

Rhysand rips his arm off Jenner's hold and stalks to Sanford, snatching the glass from her before she can take it again.

"Okay, that's enough, baby," Rhysand says, setting the shot down on the bar. "You're drinking way too much."

Sanford draws her eyebrows together as she faces him, and reaches out behind him clumsily to take the glass again. "What? No, I want another one."

Rhysand grabs her hands and looks her in the eye. "You're swaying already. I think you've had enough for the night." He looks at Sabina and MJ and gives them a tight smile. "Right, guys?"

MJ notices his worry. She purses her lips and nods. "Alright, that's enough of her birthday shots! Sab and I will drink the rest—"

Sanford pulls her hand forcefully from Rhysand, losing her balance a bit, and stretches her arm to grab the glass again.

Rhysand grits his teeth and catches her wrist. "Sunshine. That's enough. MJ and Sabina can drink the rest of your shots—"

"Stop that. You're ruining my fun," she says suddenly, face turned in a frown.

Rhysand stares at her. "I'm ruining your fun?"

"Yeah," Sanford says unabashedly, placing a hand on the counter to steady herself. "It's my birthday, and I'm supposed to drink twenty, okay? Give me the glass, Rhys."

"You can't drink twenty," Rhysand tells her calmly, gritting his teeth. "You can barely finish five. You're wasted, come on, let's sober you up so you can—"

Sanford pushes his chest—palms out, angry. Forceful. She glares at him. "It's my birthday," she says again, voice dripping with annoyance, "so I can drink as many as I want. Why are you ruining my fun?"

"I'm watching out for you," Rhysand says, tone rising as his irritation begins to simmer. Is this how unreasonable drunk Sanford is? "Can't you just—"

"I don't need someone to watch over me, I'm twenty years old!"

Bash steps in and wraps an arm around Sanford's shoulder. He raises his free hand and looks at Rhysand. "Okay, you two. That's enough—"

"Take your goddamn arm away before I fucking chop it off," Rhysand says lowly, stepping forward.

Bash raises both palms. "Rhysand, I think—"

"Rhysand," Sanford says with an incredulous scoff.

"Outside. Now," Rhysand tells her, taking her wrist and pulling her with him.

Even as mad as he is, Rhysand doesn't allow himself to be harsh with Sanford. She's already swaying on her feet—Rhysand needs to be as gentle and careful as possible.

But out on the streets, Sanford snatches her arm back and crosses them. Her cheeks are flushed—even her neck and forehead are red. "Why are you so rude?" she snaps, angry. "Why are you so controlling, why can't you just let me have my fun for one fucking night, is that so hard to do?"

Rhysand is stunned. He takes a deep breath. "Sanford."

"What? I'm not allowed to have fun? I'm not allowed to get drunk? And what was that with Bash?" she fires question after question at him, tone rising with indignant fury with each word. "We already talked about him—"

Rhysand wants to pull his fucking hair out. "Stop acting like a child, Sanford."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You're acting like one!" Rhysand growls back, stepping towards her. Sanford backs up against the wall. "You want to pick a fight with me, is that it? Did you do so bad in your fucking class that you have to fucking drink what you can't and take all this anger out on me?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he fucked up.

Sanford starts tearing up.

Christ. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

"You're the one who's ruining my birthday!" Sanford yells brokenly, pushing his chest again. Rhysand stumbles back. "Just because you're five years older doesn't mean you're more mature than I am—"

"You arguing like this just proves my point," Rhysand cuts her off, seething through his emotions. He clenches his hands into fists. "I wasn't trying to ruin your fucking fun, you were being reckless and pressured—"

"I can make decisions on my own," Sanford says, jaw tightening as she stares him down. Her cheeks are wet with tears. "And I don't need anyone to take care of me or watch over me."

Rhysand doesn't want to do this anymore. He pushes his tongue against his cheek and nods. "Okay."

Rhysand turns around and starts walking away.

Sanford's voice shakes when she asks, "Wh-where are you going? We're not done talking—"

Rhysand looks at her dead in the eye and says, "I'm leaving. Since I ruined your party and all. Have fun."

Sanford doesn't say anything else when he starts walking away again.

And he—he doesn't actually leave. He sits in the Jeep and leans forward, banging his head over and over on the steering wheel.

Taking out his phone, he calls Jenner.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?"

"Listen," he says, rubbing his forehead. "Sanford thinks I left."

"I can see that," Jenner snaps. "She's fucking crying, man. She walked in, smiled, and then she's crying and heading for the bathroom. What the fuck did you say to her?"

"I don't want to ruin her birthday anymore," Rhysand says, leaning back against the headrest. He needs a fucking smoke. "If she wants to have fun, she should. I shouldn't have to watch over her."

"Why are you talking like her goddamn dad?" Jenner hisses. "There's barely an age gap between you two, Jesus Christ. Both of you are wrong, and both of you should fucking fix it right now. MJ and Sabina don't know what to do—"

Rhysand fumbles for a cigarette. "Just make sure she's fine," he mutters through the stick between his teeth, lighting it up. He rolls the window down. "If she pukes or passes out, or if something else happens, call me and I'll be back inside. I'll wait in the Jeep."

"Rhysand—"

"Hey, motherfucker," Sabina's voice cuts in on the other end of the line. "What did you say to Andy?"

"None of your business," Rhysand answers easily and hangs up.

He stays true to his word—he waits in the Jeep. The cigarettes keep him company.

At nearly three in the morning, his phone buzzes with a text from MJ. Hey. Andy didn't drink anymore. She sobered up, danced with us and ate cake again, but now she's exhausted. You're still outside, right? Do you want to take her home or should we?

Rhysand tosses his fifth cigarette in an empty bottle and sends his reply back. I'll take her home.

Okay. We'll bring her to you, just open the passenger door.

MJ and Sabina hold her up on the way to the Jeep. Rhysand walks towards them and carries Sanford—she's barely awake.

Sabina purses her lips. "I don't like this."

"Sab," MJ murmurs, shaking her head. "Andy also said she wants to go home to him."

His chest stings. Carefully, Rhysand settles Sanford in the passenger seat and buckles her seatbelt. He holds her chin and gently rests her head on the headrest.

Rhysand closes the door and faces her roommates. He shoves his hands inside his pockets. "Thanks. For doing this. And for taking care of her. We'll fix our shit, so don't worry." We always do.

Sabina looks at him. "You scare me, you know?"

Rhysand stares back at her.

"You scare me because of how easily you can hurt Andy."

"She can easily hurt me, too," Rhysand says, speaking the truth. "Because I love her."

MJ sighs. "She loves you more."

Rhysand scoffs. "I doubt that." He really, really, really does. "I'll tell her to call once she wakes up tomorrow."

MJ waves at him. Sabina tips her chin to him once.

Jenner sits in the backseat. "You fucking dick."

Rhysand doesn't argue with him and heads home.

Like before, Jenner holds Sanford up in the bathroom while Rhysand takes off her makeup gently. Sanford doesn't speak a word. Her eyes are barely open, but Rhysand knows she's awake.

Rhysand doesn't speak, either.

And like before, she washes her face, and Rhysand reaches for a towel and dries her face. Sanford turns around and strips, and Rhysand gets her clothes and unclasps her bra and helps her step into his sweatpants.

And like before, Rhysand tucks her to bed and pulls the blanket further up her body. Sanford curls in on herself and hugs the bear.

This time, Rhysand doesn't slip in the covers next to her. He's about to turn around and stand to turn off the light and head to the studio to sleep, but short, shaking fingers wrap themselves around his wrist frantically.

Rhysand looks down at Sanford. Her cheeks are wet again.

"Don't leave me," she whimpers, shutting her eyes tightly. Her fingers squeeze Rhysand's wrist. "Don't you dare."

Rhysand doesn't allow himself to think on it—he lies down next to her and wraps her arms around her small frame, back facing him. Sanford cries into the pillow, but she's clasping Rhysand's hands to her face and Rhysand can feel her tears hit his fingers.

This hurts. This fucking hurts. Rhysand can't take this—can't handle the sounds of her whimpering and crying because of him.

"Sunshine," Rhysand rasps, tightening his hold on her. "I—"

"Don't leave," she sobs, shaking her head. "You w-were going to leave again, you were going to leave me. Whenever y-you turn around I see you leaving. D-don't leave. Don't leave me..."

Ah. Rhysand's heart—Rhysand's chest feels so tight. "I''m sorry," he whispers against her skin. "I'm sorry, I'm not leaving, okay? I'm not."

Sanford doesn't face him. Rhysand waits until her tears slow, and she passes out in exhaustion.