╭─────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─╮
.·:*¨༺𝐏𝐫𝗼𝐥𝗼𝐠𝐮𝐞༻¨*:·.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ sᴜғғᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʟғ,
ᴄʀᴀᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴇ.
( 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯 )
@LILLYOFTHEVAIIEY
╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

𝓕or as long as Luna Mae could remember, her life had revolved around Embry Call.

They met in middle school — two awkward kids on the edge of everything, drawn together by a shared sense of quiet. By the time they turned fourteen, they were inseparable. Dating, if you could even call it that back then. He held her hand like it was sacred, walked her home every day, and carved her initials into the old pine tree near the edge of the rez like a promise.

Now, at seventeen, with senior year right around the corner, it still felt just as real.

They weren't perfect. Embry could be closed off sometimes, and Luna had a habit of keeping her fears tucked away behind pretty smiles and jokes that fell too easily from her lips. But they understood each other. Really understood each other — in a way that made people around them believe in soulmates, even if they'd never admit it out loud.

She knew the shape of his laugh, the feel of his callused fingers on the back of her neck, the way he always smelled like pine and rain and something wild. He knew her silences, the meanings behind her long stares, the exact way to calm her down when she got too lost in her head.

Most days, she thought: this is it. This is what it feels like to be chosen. To be safe. To be loved without question.

The truth was, Luna Mae didn't believe in fate.

Not really.

But if it existed — it had Embry Call's eyes and the soft way he said her name when no one else was listening.

She didn't know everything was about to change.

That her heart would break so quickly.

Luna Mae was painting her nails when the phone rang.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, a strawberry-scented cuticle oil open beside her, the soft flutter of Fiona Apple playing from the rose-gold Bluetooth speaker on her nightstand. Her bedroom smelled like sugared vanilla and something floral — peony, maybe — the kind of scent that lingered on every cardigan she owned.

The walls were pale blush with pinned-up Polaroids: her and Embry at the beach, her and Tahlia doing matching eyeliner in the school bathroom, blurry pictures of bonfires and sunsets and sleepy eyes. Fairy lights were draped over her headboard like a crown, and a silk ribbon trailed from the corner of her mirror where she'd tied it last spring after cheer tryouts.

Everything about her room was soft, dreamy — a reflection of the girl who decorated it. Ruffles and velvet, pressed flowers and pastel post-its. A half-written love letter sat folded on her desk, the pink ink still wet. She was going to give it to Embry before school started. A just-because letter. Because she loved him, and he deserved to hear it in more than words.

Her phone buzzed beside her knee.

Embry Call.

She smiled, brushing a hand through her long, dark hair, careful not to smudge the wet polish on her fingers. She expected his voice to come through like always — warm, steady, teasing. She imagined him grinning while he talked, probably lying on his back on that old couch in his garage.

But the second she answered, she knew something was wrong.

"Hey," she said softly.

There was silence on the other end. Breathing. Not his usual kind — not the calm kind. This was tight, like he was trying to force air through a clenched jaw.

"Embry?"

Still nothing.

Her heart tripped. She sat up straighter, legs uncrossing, the room suddenly too quiet.

"Embry, are you okay?"

"I can't do this anymore," he said.

Just like that.

Four words.

Like a match thrown into dry grass.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice wavered, too high, too fast. "Do what?"

"Us. I just... I can't be with you anymore."

Her lips parted but no sound came out. She stared at the phone like it would take the words back if she looked at it hard enough.

"Embry, what the hell are you saying?" she whispered. "This isn't funny."

"I'm sorry, Luna."

"No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to call me out of nowhere and—what, just end it? Why? What did I do?"

Silence again. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, a tear slipping loose without her permission. Her bare toes curled against the ruffled edge of her bedspread, like gripping the fabric would somehow keep her grounded.

"It's not you," he said finally. "I just... I have to go."

"Embry, don't hang up—"

But he did.

He hung up, and the music kept playing. Fiona Apple, soft and slow in the background. Her nails still gleamed wet and perfect under the bedroom light. A pink post-it on her wall read forever in curly handwriting.

The silence that followed was the loudest thing she had ever heard.

Luna sat in the silence for a full minute before she moved. The phone was still in her hand, her thumb hovering over Embry's name in her recent calls. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, like her body hadn't caught up to what had just happened.

He broke up with her.

Out of nowhere.

No reason. No fight. No warning. Just... done.

Her hands were shaking now. She pressed her palm to her mouth and let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Then she did what she always did when the world didn't make sense.

She called Tahlia.

The phone rang once. Twice. On the third ring, Tahlia picked up, sounding half-asleep and annoyed in the way only best friends could get away with.

"Luna, it's literally ten-thirty, I just got in—"

"He broke up with me."

Her voice cracked right down the middle, like glass under pressure.

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Tahlia was awake-awake.

"What?"

"Embry." Luna's voice was barely audible now. "He just called me. Said he couldn't do it anymore. And then he hung up."

"You're kidding me."

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

Luna pulled her knees up to her chest, phone cradled to her ear with both hands like it could anchor her to the moment. Her eyes burned. Her room still smelled like strawberries and sugar, and it made her sick.

"Did something happen?" Tahlia's voice shifted — protective, serious. "Did you guys fight? Did he say anything else?"

"No. Nothing. He just said he 'can't do this.' Like that's supposed to explain everything."

Tahlia swore under her breath — a sharp, bitter sound.

"He's been weird lately," she muttered. "Quieter. Hanging out with Sam and Jared more, and that asshole Paul." Tahlia was five seconds before going on a hour long rant about Sam and his cult before she stopped herself, simply asking. "You said he didn't show up last weekend either, right?"

Luna nodded, then realized Tahlia couldn't see her.

"Yeah. He texted me something about feeling off. I thought maybe he was sick or something."

"He's not sick. He's being a coward."

Luna didn't answer. Her throat was too tight. Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn't even bother wiping it away this time.

"I'll come over," Tahlia said quickly. "Give me five minutes."

"No, you don't have to—"

"Shut up, I'm already putting shoes on."

A soft laugh caught in Luna's chest, fragile and broken. Tahlia always did this — showed up when things were falling apart. Fierce, sharp-tongued, ride-or-die Tahlia Young, who never let Luna cry alone.

"Bring snacks," Luna mumbled.

"Duh," Tahlia said, but there was a smile in her voice now. "I'll be there in ten."

Luna hung up. She set the phone on her nightstand, blinked up at the fairy lights glowing dimly overhead, and whispered into the quiet:

"Why did you do this to me?"

But no one answered.

There was a knock on the window before there was one on the door.

Luna startled, blinking through the blur of tears just as Tahlia's face appeared outside her second-story window — lit by the glow of fairy lights, her curls wild, her hoodie half-zipped and her fist already rapping against the glass again like she knew Luna would be slow to move.

Luna wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her pajama top and got up on unsteady legs, pushing the window open.

"You live ten minutes away," she said, voice raw.

"I ran a red light," Tahlia said, climbing through the window like it was something she did every weekend — and she kind of did. "And I may have driven over a lawn."

She tossed her backpack down dramatically and reached into it. "I brought Pop-Tarts, sour straws, and a mini bottle of my mom's rosé I stole from the fridge. So. Let's ruin your teeth, commit a mild misdemeanor, and emotionally process your breakup in that order."

Luna let out a weak laugh — the kind that hitched halfway up her throat — and then suddenly she was crying again, shoulders shaking, arms wrapping around herself like that could hold her together.

Without a word, Tahlia crossed the room and pulled her into a hug.

It wasn't gentle. It was fierce and full-body, like she was trying to squeeze the pain out of her.

"He doesn't deserve you," Tahlia whispered. "I don't care what his reason is. He doesn't get to break your heart and vanish like that. That's not love. That's not what we do."

Luna clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder. Her room, still soft and glowing, felt like a dollhouse version of her life — all the pieces still in place, except the boy who'd made it feel real.

"We were happy," she choked out. "Weren't we? I wasn't making it up?"

"No," Tahlia said fiercely. "You were in love. Real love. Anyone could see it. That boy has issues and I don't know what's going on, but it's not you."

She pulled back just enough to look Luna in the eyes.

"You are Luna freaking Mae. Cheer captain. Future prom queen. He's going to regret this."

Luna gave a watery smile and wiped her eyes again.

"You forgot hot," she said hoarsely.

"You're right," Tahlia nodded solemnly. "You're hot. Embry Call is clearly going through some rez boy identity crisis or something."

Luna blinked. "What?"

"Nothing. Just saying. Rez boys are weird. I'd know I'm related to half of them. Now sit down and eat some carbs."

The two of them curled up on Luna's bed, surrounded by blankets and snacks and the hush of late-night quiet. Tahlia braided Luna's hair while they talked — or, rather, while Tahlia talked and Luna listened, eyes glassy, head spinning.

Because no matter how warm the blankets were, how sweet the strawberry Pop-Tart tasted, or how many times Tahlia said he wasn't worth it — Luna couldn't stop thinking about how sudden it had been.

How final.

And somewhere deep in her chest, something shifted. Like her heart was trying to warn her of something she couldn't name yet.

And tomorrow she had to see him.