Killing Samuel and Moving On

Dove

They added Dove's letters to the large orange one containing Blake's and sealed it. They were moving forward now. Slowly, but surely, they were moving ahead.

A long finger trailed down the written list of names and they sighed. Seven more people were in line. Only seven more people and it would all be over.

The phone rang and they watched with piqued interest as Dove's pretty face lit up the phone. Six years later and that amazing picture appeared.

11:11 pm.

When they both decided to live.

To any other person the tears streaming down both of their faces would've been cause for concern. But they both knew the significance of it. So it was kept and looked at almost everyday.

They swiped right and put the call on speaker.

"Yeah?"

"I did it! I told him!" Dove's excitement was palpable and it made them smile widely. They tapped their cherry moisturized lips and decided to play dumb.

"Oh?" They questioned. "Told who about what?"

"Cut the shit, Stel," Dove grumbled. "I'm being serious."

"You're always being serious," they teased. Dove's greeting of a heavy sigh finally allowed them to release the chuckle they'd been holding in. Ah, teasing Dove was never too difficult of a task. It was the littlest things that always annoyed her. "Ok, ok. What did Jake say?"

"He said he was cool with it," she replied. "He's never dated an ace person before but he's willing to try. He's willing to try!"

Their smile deepened at the sound of the good news. Dove had fallen hard for her next door neighbor, Jake. And it had worried them for quite some time. Dove had always been distant in her romantic endeavors. Always keeping her heart closed and unrelenting.

After all, losing someone that was supposed to be in your life forever can do that to a person.

But then she'd met Jake and fell quicker than they could blink.

"I'm so happy for you, Dove!" And they were. They truly, truly were.

"Mhm, and guess what else?" They hummed in reply and Dove continued their conversation. "Phoebe just called and said that everything is alright."

"But the blood-"

"It was just a little bleeding," she reassured them. "I guess it's pretty common in the first trimester."

"That's a relief," they sighed. They wiped their face and breathed through the slight stutter of their heart. They didn't know what they would do if Phoebe had another miscarriage. "But are you sure I should still send her letters now?"

There was no more Bee and Samuel. That time had passed. Now, there were only Feebs and them. And their time was still waiting to begin.

"Of course you should," Dove said. "She wouldn't have told you to do all this if she couldn't handle the truth. Phoebe isn't that same girl from high school, y'know. She's a big girl now and she can take it."

Yes, well, having shit for a dad can do that to you.

"You're right." They tapped the pen against the wooden desk and tried to cage their wandering mind. "I just, I don't want to add more stress to her pregnancy."

"Stel, Phoebe will always have stressful pregnancies," Dove said. "Her body's just built that way. But, she knows her limits now. She knows what she can and can't handle. So, you send those letters, ok?"

They chuckled at her firm tone and muttered, "Ok."

"Good." There was some crackling on the other side of the line as the connection grew spotty. "Now, who's next?"

Their eyes fell to the name below Dove's and frowned. "Quill."

"Quill." Dove drew out the length of his name until making a satisfactory, Oh, once she'd remembered his story. "The one who helped you figure out your pronouns."

"Yup." They thought of Quill and the poet's café and sighed. Portland, Oregon had been alive with the gap year they'd taken there. Page and Quill were the two that gave beauty to the night's wet streets. "That's him."

The call trailed on for twenty more minutes before they hung up.

Quill.

Their pen trembled as they wrote his name for the first time in six years

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