crawling back to you.

The show in her hometown was just five days away, and Daniela felt like a tightly wound wire ready to snap. Five days until she saw her father again after months of being away—months spent trying to forget the weight of his words, the sharpness of his tongue that she knew too well because, unfortunately, she’d inherited it. She was unravelling, silently, inwardly, where no one could see because she wouldn’t let them.

Her conversation with Manon still echoed in her mind, along with the regret of how she’d treated Megan the other day. She had to pull herself together, had to put space between herself and the others. She couldn’t risk snapping, couldn’t risk letting that inherited venom slip past her lips and hurt the people who had been so good to her. People she didn’t think she deserved.

They had their own burdens to carry—Sophia especially, with the weight of leadership pressing on her shoulders and she knew Megan got super anxious before any show. Dani wouldn’t add her chaos to their lives. No, she’d shoulder this on her own, the way she always did. She just needed to survive the show, to endure the looming reunion with her father. Once it was over, this suffocating feeling—this knot of dread and anger and sadness—would leave her. Right?

Until then, she’d push herself harder, bury herself in work, and retreat behind the mask she wore so well. She’d keep her distance, guard her cracks, and pretend she wasn’t breaking beneath it all. Because if she let them see the truth—that she was so close to falling apart—it would be too much. For them. For her. She just had to get through this. And then, maybe, she could finally breathe.

Daniela thought she was hiding it well, but Megan, ever the observer, had noticed. Megan had a knack for reading people. Whether she got it right or wrong, knowingly or unknowingly, she spent hours locked in her own head, trying to piece others together like puzzles. More often than not, her practice paid off, and this time, she was certain—Daniela was anxious. Not the fleeting, everyday kind of nerves, but a deep, gnawing dread that clung to her like a shadow.

Megan felt it during rehearsals when Daniela stayed late, insisting Megan go home. She didn’t, of course. She wouldn’t. She felt it when Daniela skipped meals so often that Sophia had to physically put a plate and fork in her hands, or Megan would press a granola bar into her palm as she buzzed around, too distracted to sit still. Most of all, Megan felt it when Dani was “acting fine,” because Megan could just tell she wasn’t.

She saw right through it.

Manon walked into the living room where Megan was currently lounging, watching tv, but doing that thing she always does when the TV’s on but she’s just staring at it and not actually paying attention, too caught up in her head.  Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but her thoughts were miles away, circling Daniela.

“Hey,” Manon said, nudging Megan’s feet aside to sit on the couch. She settled them in her lap instead, a small, familiar gesture.

“Hey,” Megan replied, tearing her unfocused gaze from the screen.

“What are you watching?” Manon asked, her voice light, though she clearly knew the answer.

“Uh… good question. No idea,” Megan admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Thought so. You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you? Pretending to watch TV but really overthinking something?”

Megan’s lips curved into a guilty smile. “Maybe.”

Manon smirked, picking up the remote and flipping through channels without looking. “What’s got you so stuck in your head this time?”

Megan hesitated, then sighed. “Dani.”

“Dani? What about her?” Manon asked, her tone casual, but there was a flicker of something in her expression—something Megan didn’t miss.

“She’s… off,” Megan said slowly. “Like, really off. I think she’s worried about something.”

Manon’s hand froze mid-click, her gaze darting away. “Oh. You noticed that, huh?”

Megan squinted, her sharp eyes locking onto Manon. “You know something.”

Manon let out a long sigh and met Megan’s gaze, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gave in. “Okay, but you cannot tell her I told you. She’d kill me.”

“I won’t,” Megan promised immediately, leaning forward.

“It’s about the show. The one in her hometown,” Manon began cautiously.

“What about it?” Megan pressed. “She’s not nervous about performing, is she? Dani loves the stage.”

“It’s not so much that part, it’s her… dad.” Manon said hesitantly.

Megan blinked. “Her dad?”

Manon nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “I don’t know much but I know that they have a rocky relationship and I know that he’s going to be there.” 

“Oh.” Megan said. Now it made sense. Every jittery reaction when the girls talked about their families. Every time Dani smiled but looked away when Megan would tell them she missed home and her mom. The girls leaving the room for a phone call from home but Daniela never getting one. The subtle cracks Dani worked so hard to patch up, but Megan had somehow missed seeing for what they were. So many bits and pieces scattered into place in Megan’s head and she mentally kicked herself for not noticing these small things earlier. It took Manon spelling it out right now for Megan to have any idea. Yes, Megan or the rest of the girls had never actually met Daniela’s parents but Megan had just chalked that up to them being busy dance teachers, like Dani had said. And maybe there was some truth to that but going off what Manon had just said, Megan had a feeling Daniela was hiding a lot more. And Megan wasn’t going to force Daniela to talk about it or tell her everything but she at least wanted Dani to know that she could talk to her if she wanted, that she didn’t have to be alone.

“She’s never talked about him,” Megan murmured, her voice laced with guilt.

“She doesn’t talk about her family much at all,” Manon said quietly. “And from what little I know, her childhood wasn’t exactly… easy. But please for the love of God, do not let on that you know anything, Dani would rather die than let someone see her vulnerable—or worse, try to help her.”

“I won’t,” Megan assured her, though her heart ached at the thought. “But I hate that she feels like she has to go through this alone.”

“I know,” Manon said sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze Megan’s arm. “But that’s Dani. She pushes people away. Maybe it’ll be different with you, though. You two have a connection.”

Megan blinked, startled. “A connection? What are you talking about?”

Manon tilted her head, studying her like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You haven’t noticed? Dani’s way more comfortable around you than anyone else.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Megan said, frowning. Was she missing something? What connection? If anything, she thought Dani kept her at arm’s length more than the others.

Manon rolled her eyes, for someone who spends so much time in her head analysing people, Megan sure was clueless about the girl she spent the most time around. 

“You’re so clueless sometimes, it’s painful. Look, you have this thing, Megan. You draw people in. Dani doesn’t let her guard down easily, but with you? She relaxes. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s… different.”

Megan opened her mouth to argue but paused. She thought back to all the moments Dani had let her in just a little—quiet confessions in the late hours of rehearsal, the rare times she’d laugh, really laugh, at something Megan said. Maybe Manon was onto something.

Manon stood, stretching as if to shake off the heaviness of the conversation. “Anyway, Dani’s tough. She’ll get through this. We just have to be there for her. Silently.”

Megan smiled faintly at the irony. 

Manon shot her a knowing look. “You’re terrible at being silent.”

Megan’s smile widened, and as Manon left the room, her mind was already racing. She was determined to make sure Dani knew she didn’t have to carry this alone.

Because no one should have to. Besides like Manon had said, she was never really that good at being silent.

✰✩✩✩✩✩

Megan was a woman on a mission. All day, she’d been trying—subtly, she hoped—to get Daniela to relax and take a break. She’d even gone so far as to lie, claiming the studio was closed for the afternoon, thinking that might finally force Dani to rest at home. But, in typical Daniela fashion, she’d countered the plan in the most frustrating way possible.

“Fine,” Dani had said, tying her sneakers with calm determination. “I’ll just practice outside in the yard.”

“Dani, come on. You can’t be serious—it’s freezing outside,” Megan protested, her tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“I’ll warm up,” Dani replied simply, leaving no room for argument. She stood, zipped up her jacket, and strode toward the door, already mentally somewhere else.

Megan watched helplessly as Daniela stepped into the biting cold, her breath visible in puffs against the crisp winter air. The door clicked shut behind her, and Megan shrank into herself, guilt creeping into her chest. She’d thought her little white lie would encourage Dani to rest. Instead, she’d just pushed her to an even more ridiculous alternative. If Megan hadn’t claimed the studio was closed, Dani wouldn’t be outside in the freezing cold right now, running herself into the ground.

By late afternoon, Megan’s guilt had transformed into frustration. Despite the chill, Daniela had spent hours outside, and as soon as she was done, she’d driven to the studio, assuming it had “reopened” by now. Megan huffed, pacing her room as she racked her brain for her next move.

What was it going to take to get Daniela to pause—just for a moment?

Megan’s thoughts drifted back to a memory, one she hadn’t thought about in a while. It was during Dream Academy, the night before a big performance. Everyone had been squeezing in last-minute rehearsals, their shared tension palpable. But then Yoonchae twisted her ankle mid-rehearsal. While the rest of them hesitated, unsure of what to do, Sophia and Daniela had been the first to act. Megan remembered how Dani had spent most of the night sitting with Yoonchae at the hospital, her own training forgotten. She hadn’t cared about the lost hours of rehearsal or even her own nerves; she’d cared about Yoonchae.

Megan smiled at the memory. For all her sharp edges and fierce determination, Daniela was, at her core, a massive softie. That thought alone warmed her, even in the middle of her frustration.

And then, an absurd idea struck her.

What if she played to that side of Dani? The part of her that couldn’t turn away from someone in need, no matter how much she prioritized training.

The idea was terrible, of course. Dani was sharp, perceptive—she’d likely see right through it. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Megan was determined to do whatever it took to get Dani to slow down, even if it meant putting on the performance of her life.

Megan chuckled to herself, the ridiculousness of the plan making it hard to keep a straight face.

She was going to fake being sick.

✰✩✩✩✩✩

Faking sick wasn’t exactly something she’d ever tried before—she didn’t have much practice lying, let alone pretending to be bedridden. But, again, desperate situations called for desperate measures, and if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Dani’s soft side couldn’t ignore someone in distress.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, tilting her head and assessing her reflection. She didn’t look remotely sick. Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of her apartment, her hair neat, and her eyes as alert as ever. No, this wasn’t going to work without a little effort. Megan rolled up her sleeves, determination setting in. If she was going to do this, she was going to commit .

A quick Google search later, Megan stood in the bathroom, smudging a touch of pale foundation onto her skin to dull her usual glow. She splashed some cold water on her face, letting the chill redden her nose, and ruffled her hair for good measure. Satisfied with her handiwork, she gave herself one last look. She still didn’t look terrible , but she looked tired, worn. Maybe even convincingly unwell.

Now came the harder part—selling it to Daniela. Megan grabbed her phone and dialled Dani’s number, her thumb hesitating over the call button for just a moment. Was this too much? Would Dani even buy it? Megan shook the doubt away. There was no turning back now. She pressed the button.

It rang twice before Dani picked up. “Hey, what’s up?” Dani’s voice was as sharp and direct as ever, though Megan could hear the faint undertone of exhaustion she always tried to mask.

“Hey…” Megan started, her voice deliberately softer, almost feeble. She added a sniffle for effect. “Are you, um, busy right now?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Not really. I’m at the studio. Why? You sound…” Dani hesitated. “Are you okay?”

Bingo. Megan bit back a smile. “I don’t think so,” she said, letting her voice waver. “I feel awful. I’ve had this headache all day, and now I’m all shivery, and—” She cut herself off with a dramatic cough. “I think I might be coming down with something.”

Another pause. This time, Dani’s voice softened. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Tea? That weird soup you like?”

“No, no,” Megan said quickly, making her tone as pitiful as possible. “I don’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are. I just… I don’t know.” She let out a shaky sigh, leaning into the role. “I didn’t know who else to call. The rest of the girls are out and I don’t really want to be alone.”

Megan could almost hear the gears turning in Dani’s head. “You’re at home?” she finally asked.

“Yeah,” Megan replied, stifling a grin. “I think I’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

“Don’t move,” Dani said firmly. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Megan blinked, surprised by how quickly Dani had caved. “Wait, Dani, you really don’t have to—”

“I’m coming,” Dani interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “Stay put.”

The line went dead before Megan could protest further. She set the phone down and stared at it for a moment, her pulse racing with a mix of triumph and guilt. This was going to work.

Ten minutes later, she heard the familiar sound of Dani’s mustang pulling into the drive and the jingle of keys at the front door. Megan scrambled to lie down on the couch, pulling a blanket up to her chin and arranging herself to look as pitiful as possible. She made sure the tissues she’d grabbed earlier were scattered artfully around her, and she grabbed a glass of water, placing it just within arm’s reach on the coffee table.

The door opened, and Dani stepped inside, her arms full—a bag in one hand, a thermos in the other. She was wearing her usual workout gear, but Megan noted the faint flush on her cheeks, likely from the cold.

“You didn’t have to rush over,” Megan said weakly, giving Dani a sheepish look.

“Don’t be silly weirdo, of course I did,” Dani replied, already setting the bag down and unpacking its contents: a box of herbal tea, a small bottle of cold medicine, and a container of soup. “Why didn’t you call me sooner? You look pale as shit.”

Megan coughed lightly, grateful for her earlier application of foundation was doing the trick. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Dani rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, she moved to the kitchen, filling the kettle with water. “You need tea,” she called over her shoulder. “And this soup. It’s the weird one from that café you like. I figured it might help.”

Megan watched her, a lump forming in her throat that had nothing to do with her fake illness. Dani moved with purpose, her usual sharpness softened into something almost tender. For all her fiery drive and stubborn determination, she cared deeply. And right now, Megan could see that care in every precise movement, every small gesture.

As Dani returned with the tea and soup, Megan felt a pang of guilt so sharp it almost made her wince. This had been a ploy, a ridiculous, over-the-top scheme to get Dani to take a break—but now, watching her, Megan realized it had worked in a way she hadn’t expected. Dani wasn’t just taking care of her; she was slowing down. Just for a little while. 

✰✩✩✩✩✩

Dani had made popcorn and put on one of Megan’s favourite movies, D.E.B.S. She sat perched on the edge of the couch, the bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap, while Megan was curled up at the other end under her fuzzy pink blanket. The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows across Megan’s face. Dani glanced over at her, taking in her pale complexion, and felt her brows knit together with quiet concern.

She didn’t look too bad, but being sick this close to their performance was still a worry. Dani was grateful Megan had called her, but a nagging part of her brain kept drifting back to the looming show, to the hours she could be using to refine her moves. The thought itched at her, but she shook it off with a determined breath.

Megan needed her right now, and for Megan, Dani would drop anything. She’d sit here, keep her company, make sure she got better. Megan would be fine, Dani told herself. She’d recover in time.

“Salty ones are nasty!” Megan declared, her voice carrying an exaggerated rasp as she punctuated her statement with a fake cough, still playing up her sick act. “Sweet ones are way better.”

They’d been debating popcorn preferences for the better part of the last five minutes. Megan loved hers sweet. Dani liked them salty. It was a stupid argument, really, but Megan didn’t mind—it gave her something to focus on other than the storm of thoughts that were slowly coming to the surface after holding them in all day. It was like her mission to get Daniela to take a break was distracting her from the usual overthinking that took place and now that she had succeeded in her mission, her thoughts were catching up. She was nervous about the upcoming show. She felt guilty for accidentally making Daniela practice in the cold earlier. She felt guilty right now with her faking being sick, even if it was for Dani’s own good. Speaking of her own good, most of all these thoughts were of Daniela and what she must be going through in regards to facing her father soon. She hated being an empath. She once cried because a squirrel had dropped its acorn while running away from humans. 

“Okay, weirdo, ” Dani teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she flicked a popcorn kernel at Megan’s head.

Megan swatted it away, smiling faintly as she watched Dani sift through the bowl, her fingers meticulously searching for the salty pieces among the sweet.

“You call me that a lot,” Megan said softly, almost without meaning to.

“What, weirdo ? That’s because you are one,” Dani quipped, grinning at her.

Megan tried to smile back, but it faltered—just enough for Dani to notice. Her teasing expression softened, her brows knitting together as she studied Megan’s face.

“I mean, I can stop calling you that if you don’t like it—”

“No, no!” Megan interjected quickly, her words tumbling out like they couldn’t be stopped. Dani’s hands froze in the popcorn bowl, her eyes wide and questioning as she waited for Megan to explain.

“Sorry, I mean, I just…” Megan trailed off, her face scrunching up in that way Dani had always found endearing. She took a breath, her gaze flitting anywhere but at Dani. “I’ve been called that before, but not in a good way. Caleb—you know, my ex—”

“The one with a sad excuse for a moustache?” Dani interjected, a flicker of disdain in her voice.

“Yes, the very same,” Megan replied, rolling her eyes despite herself. “He and his friends used to call me weird. Other stuff too. I don’t know, it didn’t sound… good coming from them. It didn’t feel good either. It just made me feel like an outsider, you know?”

Dani’s fists clenched the popcorn in the bowl in anger as she took in Megan’s words and, worse, Megan’s demeanour. If she had been around when Megan was with that loser, she would’ve punched his face in until there was more blood outside his body than there was inside. Then she would’ve carved out his friends’ eyeballs and fed it to them. But instead of saying what she really thought, Daniela swallowed her anger and ducked her head to meet Megan’s avoidant eyes. 

“Hey, fuck them,” she said firmly, holding eye contact with Megan, “They don’t know shit. And if it bothers you, I’ll stop calling you that.”

“No!” Megan exclaimed again, “that’s just it. It doesn’t. It’s… different coming from you. It’s nice.”

For a moment, Dani just looked at her, a smile slowly spreading across her face. She nodded once, turning her attention back to the popcorn bowl, her fingers resuming their search. “Okay, good.”

The room fell quiet after that, save for the soft crackle of the movie playing in the background. Megan’s thoughts, which had felt like a swarm of bees earlier, were quieter now, though one question still buzzed at the edges of her mind. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until the words were already hanging between them.

“Do you, though?” she asked in a small voice. “Think I’m weird?”

There was a pause. Dani chewed thoughtfully on a popcorn kernel. Her hands still sifting through the bowl, only getting her hands stickier with the buttered popcorn, her gaze trained on them as she focused on her task. But she thought about Megan’s question, a crinkle forming between her brows.

“Yeah,” she said finally, her voice soft and contemplative. “But so what? Everybody’s weird.”

She popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth, her attention already drifting back to the bowl. But Megan stayed frozen for a moment, her body tense with an anticipation she hadn’t realized she was carrying. Dani’s words settled over her, warm and unassuming, and slowly, she felt her chest loosen, her shoulders drop. Leaning back against the couch, Megan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Before she knew it, her previously buzzing thoughts had somehow, shockingly, come to a complete standstill. 

An hour had passed, and the movie’s credits were quietly rolling across the screen when Megan glanced over at Daniela. Dani had drifted off on the other end of the couch, exhaustion finally catching up to her. Her head of soft curls sprawled across the pillows, her breathing steady and peaceful. Megan smiled softly to herself—she was finally resting.

Carefully, Megan shook the blanket off her own shoulders and leaned over to drape it over Daniela instead. She tucked it around her gently, her movements quiet and deliberate, as though afraid even the faintest sound might wake her.

The faint commotion of the girls returning pulled Megan’s attention, and she quickly hurried into the hallway to intercept them.

“Shh! Be quiet, Dani’s asleep,” she whispered urgently. “I finally got her to rest.”

“Sorry!” Lara whispered back, giggling as she clung to Sophia’s shoulders for balance, clearly a little tipsy. “Wait… how’d you manage that impossible task?”

Manon’s gaze shifted to Megan as she animatedly recounted her elaborate scheme of pretending to be sick. Her hands moved as she spoke, her words tumbling out with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as the story unfolded. Manon watched quietly, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t just amusement that filled her expression, though—it was something quieter, deeper. A gentle wave of realization settled over her, like a secret that had been hiding in plain sight. There was something about the way Megan’s energy seemed to light up when with Dani even in the most serious of moments, something about the way that Daniela’s tension could inexplicably melt away sometimes in Megan’s presence in the past. It was subtle, but it was there, like an unspoken thread quietly weaving itself between the two of them. 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually did that,” Sophia said, her tone half incredulous, half amused.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Yoonchae snarked, a teasing edge in her voice. “So you are smart after all.”

“Oh, shut up, you,” Megan shot back with a grin, her laughter bubbling up easily.

Manon stayed quiet, her soft smile lingering as she leaned against the wall, observing the scene with a kind of knowing contentment. Manon didn’t fully understand it yet, but she had a feeling she was witnessing the beginning of something no one else had noticed.