Moonspear the smallest steps bring about the most lasting change.

She didn’t know Penn was there, and while she noticed as he passed, she barely acknowledged it over the roar of her nerves. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Everything was starting to feel overwhelming in about the worst way, and that was usually when she bolted, but this time she forced herself to stay. She had to face him, it didn’t matter what that meant. Or what he said or didn’t say. She owed it to him and she wasn’t running again. Even if, as he came closer, she wanted to sink into the ground and disappear entirely.

She shrank a bit, but he didn’t stay aloof or back. Instead he came forward and did the absolute last thing she expected. Fucking hell, she was so damn tired of crying, and she’d told herself she wouldn’t. But here she was, fucking again, because she didn’t deserve this and Fig would never not be ten times better than she could ever hope to be.

She returned the hug, sinking into it, shaking. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I was stupid, and I fucking ruined everything, and you didn’t deserve any of that. It was awful, and by the time I figured out what an idiot I was, it was too late and I had no idea how to find you. She was babbling, all of it things she’d rehearsed time and time and time again but assumed she’d never get the chance to say. It didn’t seem real that he was here.