into the sun

threads of the past

It had been weeks since that night at the hospital, and Earn hadn't seen or heard from Lada since. She knew she had crossed a line, pushing Lada too far, saying too much. The way Lada had looked at her—cold, hurt, and determined to sever every thread between them—had made Earn realize just how deep the wounds ran. She had wanted to give Lada space, but it was agony not knowing if she would ever get a second chance. She thought endlessly about what to do and how to proceed without adding more pain to Lada's already fragile heart.

Years ago, Lada had "borrowed" Earn's oversized, worn-out band tee, a relic from Earn's high school days, with faded lettering and a rip at the hem. Lada claimed she had taken it because it was "the softest shirt in the world." Earn had teased her endlessly about how she practically stole it, but Lada had worn it all the time at home, lounging around, claiming it brought her comfort.

Earn remembered how Lada how the oversized shirt made her look smaller, cozier, somehow softer. The memory made her smile, even now.

Maybe this could be the bridge she needed. Even if it was a long shot, she was willing to risk looking foolish if it meant she could get even a moment of Lada's time.

Earn had fully expected that Lada wouldn't still have the shirt. It had been years, after all. She was hoping Lada might say she'd lost it or thrown it away, and then Earn could press on—make it a joke, demand a replacement, anything to fish for more time with her.

She just needed a reason to see her, and the t-shirt was as good an excuse as any.

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Standing outside Lada's door, Earn could feel her heart pounding in her ears, her palms sweating as she mustered the courage to knock. She took a deep breath and knocked, her stomach twisting in knots as she waited.

There was a long pause before the door opened slightly, just enough for her to see Lada—wearing the t-shirt. Earn's heart sank. She hadn't expected Lada to still have it, let alone be wearing it. Her plans crumbled instantly. Seeing Lada in that shirt made her realize that maybe, just maybe, Lada hadn't moved on either. But the thought didn't bring her comfort; instead, it broke her - the hurt she had caused was still there, and it ran deep.

"Earn..." Lada's voice came out in a mix of surprise and hesitation, her expression immediately guarded. She looked at Earn with unreadable eyes, her gaze flickering down to Earn's nervous hands.

Earn swallowed, her throat feeling tight. She took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to pull Lada close, to bury herself in the warmth she missed so much. She needed it—like she needed air. But she couldn't, not after everything.

"P'Mor, I—" she hesitated, then forced a small smile. "I, um, came to get my shirt back. The band tee—you know, the one you're wearing now"

Lada blinked, clearly taken aback. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You're here... for a shirt?" Her voice had a skeptical edge, as if she was trying to figure out what Earn was playing at. Lada stared at her for a moment longer, her gaze hardening. Without a word, she stepped back, the door swinging open a little wider. She reached down, and in one fluid movement, pulled the shirt over her head.

Earn's breath caught, her eyes widening as Lada peeled the shirt off, leaving her in just her bra. She tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice the smooth curve of Lada's waist, the lines of her abs, her skin flushed slightly from the sudden exposure. Earn swallowed hard, her heart pounding.

Lada held the shirt out, her chin tilting up slightly as if daring Earn to take it. "Here," she said, her voice sharp. "You wanted it, right? Take it." Her tone was almost mocking, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, something pained.