Who We Are (A Zodiac Story)

POV: Scorpio (Part 1)

I unlock the van door; the metal key cools against my palm as I recall Capricorn entrusting it to me after he had misplaced it the first time. Climbing into the driver's seat, the familiar scent of leather and gasoline assaults my senses, only serving to heighten the lingering anxiety coursing through me. My breathing is still heavy, ragged, as the memory of Cancer's sudden kiss replays in my mind.

My hands tremble as I grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white in a futile attempt to steady myself. I've been holed up in this cramped, stuffy van for hours, unable to bring myself to go back inside. I don't want to see Cancer, not after what happened, and I'm certainly not ready to face Aquarius.

A million thoughts and questions swirl in my mind, but one in particular stands out, echoing relentlessly: What the hell am I going to tell Aquarius?

The sharp vibration of my phone in my pocket jolts me from my thoughts, and I fumble to pull it out, muttering a curse under my breath when Capricorn's name flashes across the screen. Steeling myself, I answer, bringing the device to my ear.

"Where the hell are you?" Capricorn demands, his voice laced with a familiar irritation, not even allowing me a chance to speak first.

"In the van," I respond plainly, already anticipating the impending lecture about wandering off without informing him.

But to my surprise, Capricorn's tone shifts, a hint of relief coloring his words. "Oh, good," he says. "We're leaving, me and the others will be there soon."

I sigh softly as he hangs up, the finality of his words sinking in. Realizing it's time to go, I brace myself as the front passenger door suddenly opens, and Aquarius appears, climbing into the seat beside me.

Her expression is carefully neutral, and she avoids my gaze, arms crossed defensively over her chest. I can practically feel the tension radiating off of her, the unspoken displeasure palpable in the stifling silence that settles between us.

I rack my brain, trying to pinpoint what I might have done to upset her so, but the memory of Cancer's desperate kiss continues to plague me, a constant, gnawing distraction. Does Aquarius know about that already? The very thought makes my heart pound in my chest, a cold, sinking feeling taking root in the pit of my stomach.

Shit.

I can't help but worriedly glance over at Aquarius, her lips tucked beneath each other in a pensive frown, her brows furrowed together as if she's deep in contemplation. I try to examine the nuances of her expression, to decipher the emotions churning within her guarded gaze, but I'm getting nothing - she must be waiting for me to make the first move, to offer an explanation.

Damn it, how does she know?

As I contemplate the implications of her apparent awareness, Aquarius shifts in her seat, letting out an audible sigh that seems to reverberate in the tense silence, and I gulp nervously. When I'm opening my mouth, trying to figure out the best way to broach this delicate subject, Aquarius finally speaks, her voice laced with a hint of disappointment that tugs at my heartstrings.

"You forgot about me, didn't you," she whispers, her gaze stubbornly averted, refusing to meet my own.

My eyes widen with realization as I recall my promise to go upstairs and stay with her, to make sure she was alright - a promise I had foolishly forgotten in the aftermath of Cancer's kiss.

"I got... distracted, I'm sorry," I apologize, my voice tinged with genuine remorse. I ache to reach out and take her hand, to show her how sincere I am, but my own hands are still trembling, and I force myself to keep them firmly gripped on the steering wheel.