2.6 | Forget Me Not ✓

-7 || myosotis

A/N

Have you guys watched Loki yet? Not gonna lie, it's tempting me terribly to go back to this one fanfic I wrote sometime ago, I don't know if any of you still remember the title...?

Anyway, this is easily one of my favourite chapters. Hope you're ready for our best (worst) boy from Universe #2!

Also, do check out my insta (hepburnetteswp) if you want to know what I'm working on next, or if you just want a fast way to contact me. I'll be dropping tons of spoilers in the upcoming week, so I hope you're ready for it!

x Noelle

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– 7

m y o s o t i s

For fidelity.

(then: –7)

"EXCUSE ME."

All around her is a blur of faces and voices as she pushes her way through the crowd. Finally, she manages to get some breathing room—a small space by the alcove beneath the stairs. In her little corner, she has a bird's eye view of Keith and his friends seated in the kitchen.

Just once—just once. She needs to get something on him. Anything.

True enough, barely a minute or so later, a group of guys head into the kitchen. There's a conversation exchanged that she can't hear, but she can see it perfectly. She reaches for her phone, ready to hit the record button, as one of Keith's friends dig into their bag and—

"Whoops, sorry!"

She nearly drops her phone when someone collides right into her. The girl is slightly tipsy, judging by the way she stumbles around on her feet, and she waves a hand right in Emma's face by way of apology.

"Sorry again, didn't mean to do that!" the girl says. Then she stops and peers closely at Emma. On instinct, Emma takes a quick step back, but the girl only flashes her a lopsided smile. "Oh, hey, you're Keith's girlfriend, right? Have you seen my boyfriend, Callum?"

Emma can't stop herself from glancing to the right. Keith is still there. So is this girl's boyfriend, Callum Wright. And, judging by their pleased looks, they've just secured themselves a very lucrative, but very illegal, deal.

"Oh, there he is!" the girl says as she follows Emma's gaze. Her smile widens and starts to head towards her boyfriend.

But, quick as thought, Emma grabs her by the hand. "You should leave."

The girl whirls around; her eyes wide. "What?"

"Get out while you still can." The words slip out of Emma's mouth before she can stop herself. "Because if you don't, you might never be able to leave."

The other girl starts to say something, but a movement in their peripheral catches Emma's eye. Callum Wright has started to look over towards them. Whether he can see them through the crowd or not is debatable, but Emma won't stay to find out.

She turns on her heels and quickly leaves, ignoring the girl when she calls after her. But she comes to a halt as she approaches the front door. Shite. A few guys from the football team are there too. If she tries to get past them, it's only a matter of time before Keith finds out that she came to the party. She immediately makes a u-turn and races up the stairs. She'll just have to hide in one of the rooms until it's safe to leave.

It's not until she opens one of the doors that she realizes what a horrible decision she's made.

Under any normal circumstances, she should've been able to hear them before the sooner the door. But the music downstairs is too loud, and the place is too dark here. It takes her a moment or two to realize what's going on. A quiet gasp escapes her, and she quickly shuts the door. But it's too late—she's already recognized one of the two people in the room.

Florence Ayrton.

Outside, Emma recoils from the door like it's a poisonous snake. Anyone would recognize the streak of rebellious red hair anywhere. She shivers and squeezes her eyes shut and—what the actual hell, that was not a sight she wanted to see. It's going to take awhile to burn that mental image out of her head. She pulls herself together and turns towards the stairs, only to stop dead in her tracks.

It's Dylan.

"Hey." The boy coming up the stairs grins at her, and his smile is so bright, so genuinely happy, that she takes a step back. "I thought you said you weren't coming."

She swallows hard. She's never been a very good liar. If she were, she wouldn't be stuck in a relationship that's lasted way past its expiration date. "I, um, wh-what're you doing here?"

His eyebrows go up. "This is my house? And that's my room," he adds, pointing to the door behind her. Her heart sinks even further. "I left my jacket in there and I need to get it, so..."

She sidesteps him when he reaches for the doorknob. "Why don't you head downstairs first, and I'll get it for you?"

"You want to go into my room?" There's a hint of amusement in his voice. "Do you even know where it is?"

"Sure. It's in the, uh, the closet..."

"It's in the drawer beside my bed," he cuts in, with a laugh. "Why're you being so weird? I just want to go into my—" His smile fades, and he begins to frown. "Who's in there?"

"I, um—"

"It's my girlfriend, isn't it?"

Her breath lodges in her throat. No, of course not, is what she wants to deny, but the words somehow don't leave her mouth. Her slight moment of hesitation is answer enough, because his expression immediately darkens. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, fists tight. He looks angry, angrier than she's ever seen him before, and her heart starts to pound. "Dylan—"

"Step aside, Emma."

Without waiting for her response, he pushes past her and reaches for the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, and she sees him falter for a second. Although it's dark, she's close enough to him to notice the flicker of plain vulnerability across his face. There is nothing quite like standing on one side of the door, knowing, with absolute certainty, what lies on the other side. It's like wading into deep waters to drown; it's like stepping off a high cliff to fall.

She knows what that's like, as intimately as anyone who's been on this side of the door one too many times before. Her hand moves of its own accord, reaching for him. She wonders, for his sake, if she can stop the inevitable hurt he will have to face once he opens the door.

(she can't.

all she can do is watch him drown in the aftermath.)