Air.

She needs air. She needs to breathe. It's too much for her to take in at once.

So she escapes to the only place where she knows that she will not be rejected –

(the only place that has ever truly welcomed her).

It's cold outside and the suitability doesn't pass her. Digging her hands into her pockets, she sees her breath in the air (trying to focus on something else). He doesn't ask where she's going – doesn't particularly care.

She wonders how this all came to be.

Her hand hovers just above the doorbell, but she is forced to abandon her hesitancy when the pain of tears threatens her eyes once again. Her dependency on others is nothing new, but to this degree –

"Hello – oh! What's up, Dawn?"

It's only now after two years of a continuous friendship with Zoey that she realizes how the sharp edges of her youth have softened slightly. She manages a small smile and a weak wave; just from the look on Zoey's face, she can tell that her façade is very clearly nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

"Guy problems again?" she asks, voice free of malice, but not of exhaustion. This has happened before.

"Yeah, pretty much – it'll blow over, though." She doesn't need to ask to come in; Zoey backs up, allowing her to step in the doorway.

Shutting the door, the older girl leads her into the kitchen, where they sit at the table –

(and this is feeling a bit too normal, a bit too familiar).

"What happened this time?"

She inhales; her problem must be insignificant if it doesn't involve anyone else (— not the people in mind, anyway).

"We fought again today. It wasn't anything big, but it made me think." Inhale. "I want to leave, Zoey. I can't take it anymore."

Silence suspends itself between them as Zoey takes a deep breath; her neutral gaze does not falter as she folds her arms across her chest, pretending to think.

"Then why don't you? It's not like he has a chokehold on you or anything. He's Ash."

It's a valid point – but the roots have already grown, and to take them out would make them both wither away.

"It's not that easy, Zoey," she says quietly, staring at the floor.

"Hey, a lot of things aren't easy, you know."

She's right – she's always right.

"Do you think it's going to be okay to go back later?" Zoey asks, still not taking her eyes off of her. She stands up and walks over to the stove, undoubtedly making coffee – (she needs immunization from this, anyway).

"Maybe." (A sigh.) "I don't know if I even want to, though."

Zoey leans against the counter, hand under her chin, scrutinizing the younger girl in front of her –

(and that scrutiny leads her to believe that maybe she's more innocent, more vulnerable than she'd like to be).

The clock is flashing an obscene number, and the Nincada have stopped their crying.

"I wanted it to work." Her voice is slow and thick – it doesn't feel right. "But…but…"

Against everything, tears spill over and her chest heaves, and she is vaguely aware of Zoey coming to her side and whispering reassurances. Daring to open her eyes, she sees the redhead smiling bitterly, a hint of regret playing on her lips.

Tears are being wiped away, eyelids are opening –

"It's going to work. Maybe not this, but someday, something is going to work for you. I know it."

Tucking a strand of dark blue hair behind her ear, she smiles, the slightest amount of faith renewed before realizing how hot her face feels. She dismisses it as the tears, but – maybe it's not that, because she's leaning in closer, closing her eyes –

And when lips meet lips, something takes root.

Hands intertwining, hopes being raised – the words that Zoey says defy her shocked expression.

"I knew it."

Dawn only laughs, because what else can she do? This is the liberation she has been looking for, and the someday that she believed did not exist has already been found.

Words are not needed; she is – (they are) – thriving.