Shadows Between The Light
Shadows Between The Light
Whispers echo in the still,
Fragments of light, a quiet thrill.
Through fractured time, we find the space,
Where broken hearts embrace their grace.
The bedroom is already dimly lit when Vi flops onto Caitlyn’s bed with a groan, her boots landing with a dull thud on the plush carpet. She sprawls out like she’s claiming territory, arms stretched wide and legs dangling over the edge. The mattress dips slightly under her weight, and she sighs dramatically, staring at the ceiling like it’s wronged her personally.
Caitlyn, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed, watches her with a faint smirk. She’s in her sleepwear already, a pair of loose cotton pants and an oversized sweater, the kind Vi secretly loves because it makes her look so effortlessly soft. “You know,” Caitlyn starts, reaching over to flick the stray hairs from Vi's face lightly, “if you’re planning to stay here tonight, you’re going to have to shower first. You smell like you wrestled a sewer rat.”
Vi’s head lolls to the side, her brows arching in mock offence. “Rude. I wrestled two sewer rats, thank you very much.”
“Mm, and lost the match, by the smell of it.” Caitlyn’s smirk widens into a grin, resting her chin on her palm. “Up. Shower. Now.”
Vi groans again, turning her face, “Later. I’m comfy.”
Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, a challenge glinting in her eyes. “Vi…”
“Cait…” Vi counters, muffled by the pillow she’s now half-buried her face in.
"Violet..."
"Caitlynnnn..."
Vi sits up onto her elbows. They lock eyes for a moment, Caitlyn’s stern but tinged with amusement, Vi’s defiant but playful. It’s a standoff, the kind Caitlyn knows Vi secretly enjoys, even when she inevitably loses.
“You know,” Caitlyn begins, her voice taking on that mock-serious tone Vi always finds unfairly persuasive, “I could just push you off the bed.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Caitlyn shifts her weight slightly, enough to stretch a foot out nudging Vi closer to the edge.
“Alright, alright! I’m going!” Vi sits up abruptly, hands raised in surrender. She points at Caitlyn, a crooked smile forming. “But only because I’m nice. Not because you’re scary or anything.”
Caitlyn chuckles, tilting her head like she’s humouring her. “Of course. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Vi lingers a moment longer, her grin softening as she takes in the sight of Caitlyn—her loose ponytail falling over her shoulder, the way her jumper slips off one side to reveal a bare collarbone, the faint, teasing smile that still tugs at her lips.
Caitlyn notices the shift and raises an eyebrow, her smirk faltering. “What?” she asks, though her voice is quieter now, curious.
“Nothing,” Vi replies, standing up. Her voice is casual, but there’s something warm in the way she says it, like it’s a secret only she gets to keep. “Just… you’re really cute when you boss people around.”
Caitlyn rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint pink to her cheeks as she shakes her head. “Go. Shower. I’ll have the bed all set up by the time you get back.”
“Promise?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, half-teasing but already moving toward the ensuite bathroom.
“Promise.” Caitlyn stands, reaching for a towel she’d folded earlier. She walks over to Vi and hands it to her, but instead of taking it and leaving, Vi pauses.
Their eyes meet, and for a moment, the playful energy between them softens. Caitlyn tilts her head slightly, her gaze flicking briefly to Vi’s lips before returning to her eyes. She doesn’t think about it too much when she steps forward, closing the space between them.
Vi leans in instinctively, meeting her halfway. The kiss starts slow, familiar yet endlessly exciting, and when Caitlyn’s hand finds its way to the nape of Vi’s neck, it deepens just enough to leave them both a little breathless.
It’s Caitlyn who finally pulls back, though she lingers close, her forehead brushing against Vi’s. “Now you’re stalling,” she murmurs, though there’s no real accusation in her tone.
“Maybe,” Vi admits, her voice low. “But can you blame me?”
Caitlyn huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head as she takes a deliberate step back and presses the towel into Vi’s chest. “Go. Before I change my mind about letting you stay the night.”
Vi chuckles, taking the towel and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going. I’m going.”
She turns and heads toward the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder just once to catch Caitlyn already fluffing up the pillows. The sight makes her grin, a small, private thing she carries with her as she shuts the door behind her.
The sound of the shower starting echoes softly in the bathroom as Vi steps onto the cold tiles. She shivers slightly, then tosses the towel onto the counter and strips off her shirt. Her muscles ache faintly from the day, a dull reminder of the training session she’d pushed herself through earlier. Caitlyn’s words linger in her mind, teasing but fond. You smell like you wrestled a sewer rat.
She smirks to herself, shaking her head.
Stepping into the spray, Vi exhales as the warm water cascades over her, easing the tension in her shoulders. For a moment, it’s just her and the quiet rhythm of droplets hitting the tiles. She tilts her head back, letting the water soak her hair, trailing down her neck and over the scars that map her body. Scars she’s long since stopped trying to hide but still feels the weight of sometimes.
Reaching for the soap, she notices the familiar scent before she even lathers it in her hands. Lavender, soft and calming, with a hint of something floral she can never quite name. Caitlyn. The smell is her—clean and comforting, with a subtle edge that makes Vi’s chest tighten in a way that’s both pleasant and overwhelming.
She closes her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips as she works the soap over her skin. Caitlyn’s laugh echoes in her mind, the way it lights up her whole face, how her nose crinkles just slightly when something really amuses her. Vi lets herself sink into the thought, a warmth spreading through her chest that has nothing to do with the water.
By the time she rinses off, she feels lighter, her mind clearer. She steps out of the shower, grabbing the towel she’d slung nearby. Wrapping it around herself, she dries off quickly, then pulls on her sports bra and boxers—practical, comfortable. Her hair, still damp, clings to her neck as she moves toward the door.
The handle is cold under her palm as she turns it—and nothing happens.
Vi blinks, frowning. She tries again, twisting harder this time. The door doesn’t budge. Her heart skips a beat, a flicker of unease that she quickly brushes off.
Maybe the lock’s just stuck.
She twists the handle once more, using more force, but the result is the same.
The unease blooms into something sharper, a faint pressure building in her chest. “Come on,” she mutters, shaking the handle furiously now. “Don’t do this.”
The door doesn’t move.
“Cait?”
She tries the handle again, with more desperation and furiosity than before.
Her breath hitches.
A memory claws its way to the surface—cold metal against her back, the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, the suffocating darkness of the basement Vander had shoved her into. She remembers screaming, begging to be let out, her fists pounding on the door, the window, until they were bruised and bloody.
It's a memory she's buried so deeply she doesn't even know if she recalls it accurately.
The walls of the bathroom seem closer somehow, the air heavier than just the steam. Vi stumbles back a step, her breath quickening. The towel slips from her grasp, pooling at her feet as her hands ball into fists. She punches the door without thinking, the sharp pain in her knuckles grounding her for a split second before the panic surges back, stronger this time.
She can't destroy Caitlyn's bathroom just because.
Her chest heaves, the edges of her vision blurring. The door doesn’t just feel locked—it feels like it’s mocking her. She slumps down, her damp hair sticking to her skin, her knees drawn up to her chest.
Tears prick at her eyes, unbidden and hot. “Not again,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “Just in your head Vi.”
But the memory consumes her—the sound of Vander’s voice, desperate and full of regret. The smell of smoke from the outside, the cries of Benzo falling. Her younger self screaming as Vander forced her into the darkness.
The door had been solid, unyielding, just like this one.
Her body trembles, and she doesn’t even notice the tears slipping down her cheeks until they drip onto her arms. The bathroom wall pressing against her.
“Caitlyn,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. But Caitlyn isn’t here. It’s just her, the locked door, and the ghosts of her past.
Vi presses her forehead against her knees, squeezing her eyes shut as the panic overtakes her completely.
Caitlyn is fluffing the final pillow when she hears it—a dull thud, faint but unmistakable. She pauses, head tilting toward the ensuite door. Another noise follows, this one sharper, like a fist meeting wood. Her brows knit together as she sets the pillow down, her focus shifting entirely.
"Vi?" she calls out, her voice steady but with a thread of concern.
No response.
She crosses the room quickly, stopping in front of the bathroom door. Her hand hovers over the handle, but something about the silence on the other side sends a chill through her. "Vi, are you alright?" she asks, louder this time, knocking lightly.
Still nothing.
A pit forms in her stomach as she leans closer, straining to hear. At first, there’s only the sound of her own breathing. Then, faintly, she hears it—a shaky, uneven breath, almost like… crying.
“Vi?” Her voice rises with urgency now, her knuckles rapping harder against the door. “Vi, what’s going on?”
Panic prickles at her skin when there’s no reply, just a muffled noise that sounds like a choked sob. Her mind races, a dozen scenarios flashing through it, none of them good. She tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
Locked.
“Dammit.” Caitlyn’s training kicks in, her movements sharp and efficient as she drops to her knees and examines the lock. She reaches into her hair, pulling out a slim hairpin with shaking hands. Picking a lock isn’t something she’s had to do in years, or wanted to, but the mechanics are the same. She works quickly.
“Hang on, Vi,” she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. The click of the lock releasing is almost drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears, but she doesn’t hesitate. She shoves the door open.
Vi is crumpled on the floor, her back pressed against the doorframe, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her hair clings to her damp skin, and her shoulders shake with silent sobs. Her hands are clenched into fists, her knuckles red and raw like she’s been hitting something. The sight rips at Caitlyn’s chest, a mix of fear and helplessness surging through her.
"Vi,” she says softly, stepping into the room and crouching beside her. She reaches out, hesitating only for a second before placing a gentle hand on Vi’s shoulder.
Vi flinches at the touch, her head snapping up. Her eyes are wide and wild, tears streaming down her cheeks. For a moment, she doesn’t seem to recognise Caitlyn, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
“Hey, it’s me,” Caitlyn says quickly, her voice firm but soothing. “You’re safe, I’m here.”
Vi blinks, her expression shifting as recognition sets in. “Cait…” she whispers, her voice cracking. Her gaze darts to the door, then back to Caitlyn, and fresh tears spill over.
“It wouldn’t open,” Vi chokes out, her words tumbling over each other. “I—I tried, but it wouldn’t—” Her voice breaks, and she buries her face in her hands.
Caitlyn doesn’t hesitate this time. She sinks down beside Vi, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, her cheek resting against Vi’s damp hair. “It’s okay. It's open now.”
Vi clings to her like a lifeline, her body trembling against Caitlyn’s. Her breath is still ragged, and Caitlyn can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She tightens her hold, her hands stroking soothing circles over Vi’s back.
“Breathe with me,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice low and steady. “Slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Can you do that? Vi?”
Vi nods against her shoulder, though her breaths remain shaky. Caitlyn starts to breathe deliberately, exaggerating the rhythm so Vi can follow. She feels Vi’s grip loosen slightly as her breathing begins to even out, though the tension in her body remains.
“That’s it,” Caitlyn murmurs, her fingers brushing through Vi’s damp hair. “Just keep breathing.”
It takes a few minutes, but eventually, the trembling subsides. Vi pulls back just enough to look at Caitlyn, her eyes red and glassy. “I’m sorry,” she says hoarsely.
Caitlyn shakes her head, her hands cupping Vi’s face gently. “Don’t you dare apologise.” Her voice is firm, but there’s a tenderness in her gaze that softens the words. “Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”
Vi swallows hard, her eyes dropping to the floor. “The door…” she begins, her voice faltering. “It—it reminded me of—”
“I know,” Caitlyn finishes softly, piecing it together. Violet has only told her bits of her past, but Caitlyn's imagination lets her solve the rest.
Vi nods, her jaw tightening. “I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t help anyone. I just…”
Caitlyn’s heart aches at the raw pain in Vi’s voice. She presses a soft kiss to Vi’s forehead, her hands never leaving her face. “You’re not there anymore,” she says quietly. “You’re here, with me.”
Vi nods again, her lips pressing into a thin line as she fights back another wave of tears. She leans into Caitlyn’s touch, letting the warmth and steadiness ground her.
After a long moment, Caitlyn pulls back slightly, offering a small smile. “Come on,” she says gently. “The bed’s all set up, just like I promised.”
Vi hesitates, then allows Caitlyn to help her to her feet. Her movements are slow, her body still heavy with the remnants of panic, but Caitlyn stays close.
They step out of the bathroom together, and Vi exhales shakily as she sinks onto the bed. Caitlyn sits beside her, their shoulders brushing.
She reaches for Vi’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Okay?” Caitlyn asks after a moment, her voice soft.
Vi squeezes her hand, her lips twitching into a faint, tired smile. “I am now,” she says quietly, her eyes meeting Caitlyn’s.
Caitlyn smiles back, leaning her head against Vi’s shoulder. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me tonight.”
Vi chuckles softly, her tension easing just a little more. “I think I can handle that.”
The bed feels softer than usual as they settle in. Caitlyn sits cross-legged at the headboard, watching as Vi pulls the comforter over her legs. There’s a stillness between them, but it’s a comforting one, the kind that only comes with trust and time.
Vi exhales slowly, sinking into the mattress as she leans back against the headboard too. Caitlyn shifts closer, her knee brushing against Vi’s. "You sure you're alright?" she asks softly, her voice still carrying the same lingering concern.
"Yeah," Vi replies, her tone casual. She shoots Caitlyn a small smile, the one that says I’m fine, drop it, but Caitlyn doesn’t miss the faint stiffness in her movements.
Caitlyn watches as Vi adjusts her position, her hand reaching up to stretch her arm behind her, ready to pull Caitlyn impossibly closer. The motion is subtle, but the way Vi’s jaw tightens—and the wince that flashes across her face—isn’t.
“You’re lying,” Caitlyn says matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow.
Vi freezes for half a second before she lets her arm drop, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. "It’s nothing. Just sore from practice earlier."
"Sore?" Caitlyn echoes, her tone sceptical. "You winced like someone just punched you."
Vi huffs, rolling her eyes as she flops down onto her side. "It’s not a big deal. I’ll sleep it off." She reaches her hand out to massage the space between Caitlyn's brow, “Shouldn't frown like that,” she rubs her thumb in the space a few times, until Cait’s face relaxes again.
Vi provides a lopsided grin. "You worry too much, Cupcake."
Caitlyn narrows her eyes, again, touched but unimpressed by the deflection. She studies Vi for a moment, her gaze sharp and assessing, before sighing. "Alright, scoot."
Vi blinks, confused. "What?"
"You heard me," Caitlyn says, her voice firm but gentle. She sits back against the headboard, patting the space in front of her as she unfolds her legs. "Scoot forward. Let me take a look."
Vi hesitates, her bravado slipping. "Cait, it’s really—"
"Non-negotiable," Caitlyn interrupts, "I’m not letting you sit here in pain when I can do something about it. Now, move."
Vi groans but doesn’t argue further. She shifts reluctantly, sliding down until she’s sitting in front of Caitlyn, her back to her. Her shoulders are tense, the muscles visibly tight even beneath the thin fabric of her sports bra.
Caitlyn places her hands lightly on Vi’s shoulders, her thumbs pressing gently into the knotted muscle. Vi flinches at the initial touch, her breath hitching, but Caitlyn doesn’t pull back. Instead, she starts to work in slow, deliberate circles, her fingers kneading the tension with gentle, practiced care.
“You’re stupidly stubborn, you know that?” Caitlyn mutters, her voice soft but teasing.
Vi lets out a low grunt, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Yeah, well…” She hesitates for a moment, “You’re annoyingly persistent."
"I’ve had to be," Caitlyn replies, her tone lighter now. Her thumbs find a particularly tight spot just below Vi’s shoulder blade, and Vi inhales sharply. "Does this hurt?"
Vi shifts slightly, her head tilting forward as Caitlyn continues to work. "Sometimes," she admits reluctantly. "It’s an old injury. From… well, a while ago. Gets worse when I’m stressed or—" She cuts herself off, but Caitlyn doesn’t miss the way her voice falters.
"Or emotionally wrecked?" Caitlyn finishes for her.
Vi huffs out a breath, her shoulders sagging. "Yeah. Something like that."
Caitlyn doesn’t press further. She lets her hands speak instead, her fingers moving with a tenderness that contrasts the tension they’re easing. Slowly, she feels the rigidity in Vi’s muscles begin to melt away.
“You’re good at this,” Vi murmurs after a while, her voice quieter now, almost drowsy.
Caitlyn smiles, leaning closer until her lips brush the edge of Vi’s ear. "Don’t sound so surprised," she whispers, her breath warm against Vi’s skin.
Goosebumps rise almost instantly along the backs of her arms but she just chuckles softly. The sound catches in her throat mid-laugh when Caitlyn presses a kiss to the back of her neck. It’s slow, deliberate, and it sends another wave down Vi’s spine.
“Cait…” Vi says, her voice trailing off as Caitlyn’s lips find the curve of her shoulder.
“Mm?” Caitlyn hums, her hands still moving against Vi’s back, her kisses trailing higher. Vi can feel the vibration against her skin.
Vi exhales, her head tipping back slightly, giving Caitlyn more access. "You’re not playing fair," she mutters, but there’s no real protest in her tone.
Caitlyn smiles against her skin, Vi can feel it, and it feels divine. Her hands still as she shifts closer, her legs bracketing Vi’s hips. She presses another kiss, this one to the side of Vi’s neck, and feels the way Vi’s body responds—her breath hitching, her muscles relaxing completely.
"I’m just taking care of you," Caitlyn murmurs, her lips moving to brush the shell of Vi’s ear once more.
Vi turns her head slightly, just enough to catch Caitlyn’s gaze. Her eyes are soft, as blue as ever. She reaches up, her hand covering Caitlyn’s where it rests on her shoulder.
“You always do,"
Caitlyn leans forward, her forehead resting against Vi’s. "And I always will," she whispers.
The moment stretches, quiet and intimate, before Vi shifts to face her completely. The tension from earlier is gone now, replaced by a warmth that makes Caitlyn’s chest ache in the best way.
The kiss begins gently, their foreheads brushing as Caitlyn tilts her head to meet Vi’s lips. It’s a soft press at first, lingering in that tentative space between comfort and yearning. Caitlyn’s hand lifts from her shoulder to cradle the side of Vi’s face, her thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. Vi exhales slowly, her body leaning forward, closing the distance entirely.
Her lips part slightly as the kiss deepens, unhurried. Caitlyn feels it in the way Vi’s hand comes to rest at her hip as she turns round, fingers curling lightly against her side, a silent assurance that she's here. It pins Caitlyn in her spot against the headboard.
Caitlyn lets her shift closer, letting Vi crawl back up towards her. She tilts her head, exploring the kiss further. Her lips move with a deliberate tenderness, tasting the warmth and sincerity Vi offers. The connection spreads between them like a slow, steady glow, igniting.
Vi pulls back slightly, just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against Caitlyn’s. Her eyes flicker open, and the sharpness usually in her gaze is replaced. “You always know how to make things better,” she murmurs, her voice husky and low.
Caitlyn smiles, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from Vi’s face. “Someone has to,” she replies, her tone teasing but filled with affection.
Vi huffs a quiet laugh, her lips curling at the corners. But the humour doesn’t last long. She leans in again, this time with more certainty, the kiss firmer. Caitlyn meets her halfway, her hand slipping from Vi’s face to rest against her shoulder, fingers grazing the space she's just touched.
They kiss for a moment until Caitlyn leans back slightly, her hand still on Vi’s shoulder, thumb tracing gentle circles in a gesture of lingering comfort.
“Is it better?” she asks, her voice low, almost a whisper.
Vi doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, her gaze lingers on Caitlyn’s face, her eyes tracing every curve and line as though committing them to memory. The intensity of it makes Caitlyn’s breath hitch, her cheeks warming under the scrutiny.
“Mmm.” Vi moves suddenly, closing the gap between them once more, this time with a deeper urgency. Her hands, now steady and sure, find each side of Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her closer as their kiss shifts into something more. Caitlyn gasps softly against Vi’s lips but doesn’t hesitate, her hands threading through Vi’s hair, damp and unruly, as she gives herself over to the moment.
The softness of before is replaced by a heat that sparks where their bodies meet. Caitlyn feels Vi’s strength in the way she holds her.
"Vi..." Caitlyn whispers, her voice a mix of breathlessness and longing.
"Yeah?" Vi murmurs back, her lips brushing against Caitlyn as she speaks.
Caitlyn is too caught up to carry on.
Violet starts her attack, planting a string of warm kisses down Caitlyn's neck, she hovers over the pulse point, giving it extra attention.
If Caitlyn wants her, she'll give her everything. She sucks hard for a moment, warm skin in between her lips, she can hear the sharp intake of breath as she catches Caitlyn off guard. When she pulls just slightly away, her eyes fall down, lingering on the already bruising skin, that she's left on her. Her lips come back to rest at Cait's ear.
“Looks like those ones are going to stay Cupcake.”
Caitlyn’s hands come up to Vi’s face again, she pulls back so she can meet her eyes, “Guess I'll have to play fair then,”
Caitlyn moves, on her knees and scoots further down, Violet follows her gaze until she's the one seated on the bed. With a gentle hand Cait guides Vi’s legs together, so she can straddle over her lap. She leans forward, head titled ready to repay the favour,
“Wait,” Violet whispers.
Caitlyn draws back onto her heels again, face settling with a look of questioning, if not a little concern. Violet’s hands graze lazily down her sides until they settle on her hips. “If we're playing fair,” She reaches for the hem of Cait’s jumper, “Then you need to lose this,”
“But I don't have any underwear-”
“How tragic,” Vi cuts her off, smirking, and when Caitlyn smiles back she peels the sweatshirt off, before discarding it to the floor without a care.
Violet's eyes don't leave Caitlyn's body for a second, she glances a full pass up and down, soaking in every single nuance and curve of her body. Before letting one hand settle on the back of her neck to draw Cait back into a kiss. The other grazes across her chest, rough fingers across delicate skin.
“Wait,” Caitlyn barely moves away, "'I'm supposed to be in charge now, I was gonna-”
“Not how it works Cupcake,”
Caitlyn doesn’t protest with anything else. Instead, she shifts, closing the space between them entirely, her actions speaking louder than anything she could say.
The trust they’ve built, the comfort they’ve found in each other—it all culminates here, in the quiet intimacy, where words aren’t going to be necessary.