Love, Lust, and Jealousy.
It's a story Cora knows all too well - not because it's her own, but that of her character in Illicit Affairs, the murderous romance that's about to take Broadway by storm. It's her crowning achievement, her pride and joy...
Natasha and Ava grew fond of one another over the years, which only made it suck exponentially more when Nat eventually left.
The affection started when they were young, when Ava was just a little kindergartener tugging at the teenagers' hands for attention while they went for afternoon walks around the neighborhood. Rasmus could still remember the most embarrassing of these instances as if it were yesterday.
It was autumn. Leaves, nudged by the evening breeze, rustled along the asphalt. Natasha was wearing a sweater that matched her hair, which was pulled back into a bun except for a couple of loose strands that framed her face. Rasmus was regretting not wearing a jacket over his thin, long-sleeved shirt, but at least his little Ava was plenty bundled up. She was in a puffy coat that made her look like a marshmallow, her hand plenty warm as he held it in his own. If he let her go, she'd shoot off down the street like a rocket, but she seemed perfectly content to toddle along at a leisurely pace so long as she got to cling to him.
Natasha was just as close to him on his other side, the backs of their hands incidentally brushing against one another every so often. Half of his mind was yelling at him to just shove his hand in his pocket so that it wouldn't happen again while the other half screamed that he should slide his fingers between hers. It wouldn't have been the oddest thing for them to hold hands after being friends for so long, but he also worried that she already suspected that he had a crush on her. He was good at hiding from people, but how were you supposed to hide something as big as that from someone who felt like an extension of yourself? Losing her would have been like losing a limb.
As if being able to read his thoughts and wanting to expose them, Ava suddenly looked over at Nat, blinked a couple of times, and asked, "Are you Razzy's girlfriend?"
If there had been a way for Rasmus to self-destruct, he would have done it right then and there. Ava was barely old enough to even know what dating was.
But Natasha simply laughed and said, "No, no, we're just friends. Pinky promise."
She must have thought that she was doing him a favor, that by shutting that down now she would stop him from being on the receiving end of any further pestering from Ava. But it was like a knife to the gut. There's still time, he told himself. We're only fifteen.
Reluctantly, he put his hand in his pocket.
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He was naive to ever think that all he needed to win Nat over was a little more time. By the time another three years had passed, it was a miracle that their bickering hadn't wedged them apart entirely.
She thought he was being reckless; he thought he was just being a normal high schooler, goofing off and having some fun while he could. She thought he was ruining himself with the late nights and vodka and cigarettes; he thought all that mattered was that he was able to conceal it all from Ava.
She thought he was failing; he thought he was winning. They were judging him according to different metrics of success and it was nearly the end of them.
