One thing about being alone for a long time is that it could be a very self-explorative experience, or a very depraved one.

In my case, it was the latter; the kind that people talk about far less than they talk about the former.

I had a hard time making friends even before I was viciously separated from the life and people I had always known — forever an outsider among the boys because I was too 'feminine', and always itchy inside my own body around the girls. Like it didn't matter where I stood; some part of me would always be desperately trying to crawl its way out of my skin either way.

There was an obvious hedge between them and I, and the only person who managed to stand at the same side as mine was Finch; the exception to every law in my tiny Universe, my Neutron star amidst the cluster of Red Dwarfs.

Having trouble making friends suddenly wasn't a problem anymore. I had him.

Except back then, I didn't take into consideration that with him gone, I'd be a planet left behind with no light to reflect.

The loneliness; the real realization cut the deepest when I would sit at the window of my aunt's house and try to feel some semblance of the usual calm and feel pure, unfiltered dread pooling in my stomach instead, a harsh reminder of the fact that I was more lost than ever and no one was looking.

But when the realization had brought me to the cliff, the cliff had brought me River.

River Thompson, with his voice and eyes made of honey; warm and golden.

It took me years to completely let go of the mindset where I had myself convinced that the only relationship the two of us could share was the one where I owed him my life. But with time, I had come to learn that if there was anyone in the world that could be more stubborn than I was, it's him.

Life had given me two Rivers to choose from, and the one I picked seeped into my life bit by bit, and took away the drought. He washed off the dust, soothed all the burns, and made the wilted flowers rebloom.

He found me before I went missing.

And becoming friends with him was like lifelessly pushing yourself out of your cold room after months of hiding and realizing that the Sun has been patiently waiting for you to tip your head back and close your eyes so it can wash your face with warmth.

With him, all I had to do was believe that I could let go of the ledge whenever I was ready, and he would be there. Waiting to catch me. "That's what friends are for," he often said, like he was trying to pilot my brain towards remembering it as a fact, and he says it now, too.

But at almost thirty, I still haven't learned how to hold out a hand when people seem like they're waiting for me to. Meera has managed to be another exception, however, but there are times when I sit back and wonder how comfortable we would be in each other's presence outside of the University grounds and away from the 'coworkers' tag.

It's almost, almost the same as where I stand with Layla. Except the grounds with her, for some reason, seem shakier than the ones with Meera.

"Oh, hi!"

Layla is in the process of setting up the dining table when I walk back into the living room after a long, warm shower.

The smile that she directs at me is sweet and a little but shy, and it causes a minuscule falter in my steps, making me wonder if this situation is a little awkward for her as well, or if I'm just incessantly dramatic.

I hear the last part of that sentence inside my head in River's voice.

"Hey," I greet back, trying to muster up a smile even though it comes out weak, lowering the towel I was drying my hair with.

Her smile widens in answer, and like always, I'm yet again taken aback by how strikingly gorgeous she is — heart-shaped lips curved in a pleasant smile, hair dyed a bold royal blue, and her dark, sharp eyes made of starlight.

"Dinner's gonna be done soon," she tells me and goes back into the kitchen to stir something, humming a vaguely familiar song to herself.

I've seen her on posters, videos and magazines more than I've seen her in real life, and it had only taken the first meet for me to realize that no amount of professionally clicked pictures could ever do her beauty justice.

Still, there was something mesmeric about her on camera, almost intimidating but not quite, and it had kept me on edge until River had first brought her home, insisting that he wanted me to meet her before he introduced her to his parents.

We obviously hadn't become best friends, but one conversation with her had been enough to tell me that this was a woman who would go the same lengths to make River happy that he does for everyone around him.

"Any way I can help?" I ask quietly after feeling ridiculously aimless in my own living room, shuffling my feet when the humming stops and she looks at me again, the expression of mild surprise on her face making my cheeks warm a little.

Usually, I hide when she's around. Or avoid the house. Or... well, run.

Her surprise quickly melts into another warm smile, though. "I'm almost done, actually," she tells me, and then tilts her head to one side, glancing at the pot in front of her. "But could you taste this pasta for me, please?" The eye roll that follows holds so much fondness in it somehow, I don't know how to react to it.. "River always gives me hell for making the sauce too spicy. I told him to go away and take a shower so I could finish this in peace."

Before my brain finds an excuse to make me say no, I hang the towel at the back of one of the chairs and make my way over to her. "River has clearly been cooking for white people a little too long." The words leave my mouth before I can process them, but there's no time for me to freak out over possibly crossing the line, because Layla immediately bursts into a fit of giggles.

"You sound like Juni." It takes a few seconds for me to remember who that is, and the mental image of a petite figure with cat-like eyes and signature platinum hair hits me like a freight train.

"Juni must be a delight to be around." I begin reaching for a spoon, but the sight of Layla holding up a fork makes me pause. She's patient even when I take a second too long to react, internally smacking myself upside the head to remind myself that by now, we should have been way past walking on eggshells around each other.

Layla has always tried to initiate some kind of conversation between us that I unintentionally shut down every time, so I lean down this time so she can feed me. If she's been patiently standing at the door all this time, waiting for me to open it, the least I can do is turn off the locks, right?

"Only sometimes," she jokes after I close my lips around the bite and cover my mouth to hold back the satisfied hum, the delicate, delightful flavor immediately erupting against my tastebuds. The corners of her eyes crinkle with the elated smile that appears on her face at my reaction. "Good?"

"Mhm." I nod quickly. A bit too quickly, probably, because she laughs again at my enthusiasm. "Very."

"Hm..." she tilts her head to one side before turning back to sprinkle some herbs on top of the pasta with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Has food perhaps been the way to your heart this entire time? Was I too blind to this possibility?"

There isn't a lot in the world that makes me blush. Getting shy or embarrassed about things has been a bit of an alien concept to me for a few years now, because when circumstances push you through the prime years of your growth three times faster than everyone else, you realize that there isn't too much you have left to care about by the time the Universe is done pushing.

But the indirect admission from Layla about how there have been quiet, subtle attempts from her side to befriend me this entire time while I kept my head too far up in the clouds to see any of them makes my cheeks grow hot with abashment.

Fiercely resisting the urge to cover my ears with my hands like a little kid, I respond with a soft, "Maybe."

Because coming from her, the words 'this entire time' don't sound like a jab. They sound like a gentle invitation instead, a tiny creak in the door — like I'm allowed to step inside if I want to. Like I always have been. Like it would be okay if I did now even after keeping it firmly shut for the past four years from my side.

This is the woman that's put the shine of Sirius in River's eyes, I remind myself when my hands tremble at the mere idea of letting another person in. The same woman who came running alongside him to check up on you just because your breathing sounded too heavy over the phone.

I look away to hide the irrational fear in my eyes when she turns in my direction again, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of iced tea just to give my hands something to hold on to so they would stop shaking. "Why do you think I've been friends with River for so many years?" I add when I've managed to calm my nerves a little bit, and the chuckle she gives me in response makes way for some more of the tenseness to leave the kitchen.

"Valid. I'm marrying him for the same reason."

I couldn't hold back the snort that those words get out of me even if I tried.

The air around us thins then, and the last few traces of unease disappear like a puff of smoke. My body has just sagged in relief and the long breath has almost made its way out of my nose when Layla speaks again.

"Skylar?"

The change in her voice is obvious; a new seriousness with hints of nervousness still sneaking around her tone. It reminds me of the far from pleasant encounters I've had with River's lovers in the past, and my brain subconsciously braces itself to hear something along the lines of, "You need to seriously ease your clutches on him."

It doesn't come.

"You... um," she starts, and for the first time since I've known her, I see her fidget. It only fuels my anxiety further and all I can do is stiffen and begin curling in on myself, until she clears her throat and tries again. "It's totally fine if you say no, okay? But uh, we were going to have this little... get-together? Kind of?" She squints at nothing, and the gesture seems so oddly mundane for someone like her, my fingers stop digging into my palms. "More like a pre-get-together, I think, but anyways..." She shakes her head a little. "We're doing it at the house over the weekend before the engagement party. It's like an excuse for us girls to spend some time together outside of work."

She pauses, wringing her hands together before looking up at me. I nod blankly.

"It would be really cool if you could come," she says softly, and my entire world seems to come to a halt.

Because... it's just such a murderously simple thing, is it not? Two people talk, click, and steadily begin making their way towards a blossoming friendship. A woman invites another woman to her house because they're close enough to be comfortable around each other's personal space; comfortable enough to be okay with another person in their personal space.

Except, I wasn't always a woman to other people. To some that I have yet to come across, I probably still am not.

It has, and will always stay with me that instead of carefree hangout invitations, I got awkward encounters with women trying too hard to break through their discomfort just to address me like another woman. And since I already felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my back, I chose to build an impenetrable bubble around me instead of holding everyone's hands and guiding them through learning curves.

So needless to say, being on the receiving end of, You should join us, from a woman after teaching myself to strictly stay inside my bubble for years leaves me at a loss for words.

I may have been silent for a little too long, because Layla's shoulders visibly curve in like she's now trying to make herself look smaller, and I rush to say, "I have to be somewhere. On Saturday."

The disappointment slips through before she can mask it completely. "Ah, that's okay then..."

"Would it be okay if I joined you guys on Sunday?"

At the hurried question, the carefully blank expression on her face turns into a wide-eyed one instead, like that was the last thing she had expected me to say. I don't blame her in the slightest.

"Yeah!" she blurts. "Of course. Um." The little laugh that leaves her is what I feel like from the inside — nervous and lost about what the fuck to say. "You... already know the address..." She trails off so I nod to confirm, and she nods back. "Okay. Right. I'll uh, I'll introduce you to everyone properly. Everyone knows you already, though, but still."

I blink in surprise. They do?

Despite the lack of communication between us, I have had the pleasure of meeting the rest of Less Miserable a few times, in passing since I never stuck around long enough to know what they're like in person, but enough to know them all by name.

The fact that they know me by name comes off as a really big surprise, though.

"River talks about you a lot," Layla tells me softly, like she can read my mind, and my heart swells three sizes too big inside my chest. I lower my gaze and clutch the now-moistening can between my hands, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "I think I can speak for them too, when I say that we'd love to get to know you." The lump returns, but I look up in her direction with my mouth parted. She meets my gaze squarely, but her voice lowers when she adds, "You're family."

The way she says it so simply is precisely why I almost stumble back with the force packed in those words — so easily and undoubtedly, like she has no idea of the fact that all of the planets in my orbit just reshuffled themselves. She probably doesn't. But maybe a hint of the wreckage shows on my face, because her eyes cloud over with worry and she opens her mouth to speak again.

She's interrupted by the sound of a whistle echoing behind me a second before River appears.

"I heard my name," he announces, and walks over to peck me on the forehead before shaking his wet hair in my face, the water so cold it makes me flinch in surprise. He's already on his way to Layla before I can smack him for it though, and he throws a, "Close your eyes, Sky," over his shoulder like I'm a five-year-old before he takes his fiancée's face between his hands, and kisses her in greeting.

Layla all but melts in his hold, and I just shake my head to myself, pop open my can of iced tea, and walk back to the dining table. If they're still disgustingly in love even after four years of being together, good for them.

"What did Sky say behind my back?" he asks loudly a few seconds later, and I scoff.

"Nothing," Layla replies before I can, and then shoots me a mischievous look over his shoulder and cheekily adds, "Yet."

I hold the can up like I'm making a toast when River looks in my direction with narrowed eyes. "No need to worry, buddy. I'm sure she's seen the worst of you already."

"Probably not, since she's still here." He does get smacked for that. From Layla. He turns to her with wide, serious eyes. "Babe, you don't understand, okay? Sky knows too much. She has dirt on me that could wreck our relationship."

"I'm sure I'll get to hear all about it over the weekend," Layla tells him, patting him on the shoulder in faux comfort, and he pretends to look horrified at the idea. "Good thing we haven't announced our engagement to the public yet."

"Now, hold the fuck up —"

"I'll make sure to not give them any details about the time you almost shoved this woman's face in her dessert at the restaurant," I interrupt, and he flips around to look at me so fast, I can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up my throat.

"That did not happen." He points an accusing finger in my direction, but I just force back another giggle and take a calm sip of my tea before giving him a solemn nod. "Sky. Oh, my God. Tell her you just made that up."

"If you say so." I put the can on the table to free my hands so I can make bunny ears in the air to denote quotations when I add, "I just 'made that up', Layla."

"Sky."

Layla laughs at the whine in his voice, reaching out to rub the space between his shoulder blades. "It's okay, honey, I'm sure you had your reasons."

River throws his head back at the sarcastic remark and groans dramatically. "I don't know how I feel about the two of you joining forces but I feel like at least a teeny tiny part of this may have been my fault."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Layla says haughtily, clicking her tongue. "I think the two of us were always meant to be friends, you intervening or not."

At almost thirty, I'm still learning that sometimes, other people reach out first. You just have to take the hand they've already held out for you.

"I agree with Layla on that one." My voice comes out soft but sure, and her head turns in my direction so fast, messy hair flying, the smile she directs at me so bright and full of energy, I think I see what it looks like when stars form in a nebula.

a/n

hello, beautiful people that i love very much . i want to listen to ur 'cheers me up instantly' music . pls give me *makes grabby hands* (mine are mixtape : oh by stray kids, blood by the middle east, and la la la that's how it goes by honne <3)

thank you so much for reading! i have very big plans for the next chapter yet again, and i'm so very excited for sunday (honestly at this point, updating this book is the only thing that brings me joy anymore) i hope you're all doing well! i will see you again soon x