49 blanket fort diplomacy
Snow's been falling outside since dinner.
Not heavy. Just steady enough to soften everything outside the dorm windows, coating the sidewalks white and blurring the orange glow of the streetlights into something quieter. The entire room feels different because of it. Smaller somehow, warmer.
Everly is currently standing on her desk chair trying to pin a blanket to the wall with two thumbtacks and pure delusion.
"This," she announces, reaching dramatically upward, "is atmosphere."
"This," I correct from her bed, "is how dorms burn down."
She glares at me over her shoulder. "You have no vision."
"I have survival instincts."
"Coward."
The blanket immediately falls down and lands directly on her head.
I laugh before I can stop myself.
Everly yanks it off dramatically. "You're supposed to support me emotionally."
"I am supporting you emotionally. From a safe distance."
"You're unbelievable."
"And yet," I say, standing to help her anyway, "here I am."
She watches me walk over with that look she's had lately. Softer now. Less guarded, like she still can't completely believe this is real but wants to anyway.
It does something dangerous to my chest every single time.
Together, we end up turning her bed into a disaster of blankets and pillows and tangled fairy lights. It looks ridiculous by the end of it.
Everly stares at it proudly. "It's beautiful."
"It looks like a fabric explosion."
"You don't deserve art."
"You're right. I deserve silence."
She throws a pillow directly at my face.
I catch it automatically.
"Show-off," she mutters.
"You wound me."
"I'm trying to."
I grin despite myself and walk toward my desk to grab the snacks I bought earlier.
The second Everly sees the popcorn bag, she looks personally betrayed. "Oh my God."
"What?"
"You got caramel cheddar again?"
"It's elite."
"It's a hate crime."
I stare at her. "You put hot sauce on popcorn."
"That's sophisticated."
"That's psychological."
She snatches the bag from me anyway and reads the label like she's collecting evidence for court.
"You willingly consume this?"
"You willingly watch reality dating shows."
"That is different."
"How?"
"Mine has emotional complexity."
"Your favorite show literally involves people throwing drinks at each other in Greece."
She points at me triumphantly. "Exactly. Culture."
I laugh hard enough that I have to look away for a second.
Everly goes quieter at the sound. Not awkward quiet, just watching me.
That still catches me off guard sometimes. How openly she looks at me now. Like she's stopped trying to hide how much she feels.
The movie starts eventually, though neither of us pays attention to it for more than five minutes.
At first we sit on opposite sides of the bed.
Then closer.
Then our shoulders brush once and neither of us moves away after.
Everly tucks her legs underneath herself beside me, blanket pooled over both of us now. Outside, snow keeps drifting past the windows in slow white streaks.
Inside, everything feels warm enough to fall asleep in.
I'm trying very hard not to overthink how close she is. Trying very hard not to push too much.
That's the thing nobody really tells you about loving someone after hurting them.
You become careful with them.
With every word.
Every touch.
Every reaction.
Because part of you is still terrified you'll ruin it again.
Everly leans against my shoulder absentmindedly halfway through the movie.
My entire body immediately forgets how to function.
I stay still for half a second, giving her room to move away if she wants.
She doesn't.
Instead she settles closer, warm beneath the blankets, like this is natural now.
Like we are.
Slowly, carefully, I slide my arm around her shoulders.
Everly goes quiet for a second. Then she relaxes completely against me.
And Jesus Christ.
I think my heart actually stutters.
"You okay?" she asks softly without lifting her head.
"Fantastic," I answer immediately.
She laughs against my hoodie. "You sound stressed."
"I am stressed."
"Why?"
"Because you're cuddling me."
"That's tragic."
"You have no idea."
Her smile presses lightly against my chest.
The movie keeps playing mostly ignored while we talk instead.
About stupid things at first.
Childhood stories. Bad professors. Scott Allen somehow setting his backpack on fire two weeks ago year because he tried microwaving ramen without water.
"That cannot be real," Everly says.
"I watched it happen."
"How is he alive?"
"He's resilient."
"He's deeply stupid."
"Both can be true."
She laughs softly again.
God, I could listen to that sound forever.
The conversation shifts slowly after that. Softer around the edges.
Everly tells me she used to rearrange her entire bedroom as a kid whenever she got overwhelmed because it made her feel like she had control over something.
I tell her I used to sleep with football pads beside my bed before games in high school because I was terrified of failing.
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," she says quietly.
"It worked."
"That's not the point."
I shrug a little. "Football's always been the one thing I understood."
Everly lifts her head slightly then, studying me carefully in the glow of the fairy lights. "You know you're allowed to be more than that, right?"
The question hits harder than it should.
Because the thing is-
I'm not sure anybody's ever really asked me to be.
Coach wants football.
My dad wanted football.
Half the world only notices me because of football.
But Everly looks at me sometimes like she's trying to memorize the parts underneath it.
And that's way scarier.
The room goes quiet for a minute after that.
Not uncomfortable, just full.
Everly's fingers absentmindedly twist in the sleeve of my hoodie while snow keeps falling outside the windows.
Then she says quietly, almost like she doesn't mean to, "I haven't felt this safe with someone in a really long time."
Everything inside me stops.
She doesn't seem to realize what that does to me.
Or maybe she does, because the second my arm tightens slightly around her instinctively, she tilts her head up just enough to look at me.
"You okay?" she whispers again.
I let out a breath. "Yeah."
Lie.
Complete lie.
Safe.
She feels safe with me.
And suddenly nothing has ever mattered more than that.
Everly watches me for another second before her expression softens completely. Then she settles back against my chest beneath the blankets like she trusts me there.
Like she trusts me with her.
The movie keeps playing forgotten in the background.
At some point our fingers tangle together naturally beneath the blanket.
At some point Everly's breathing slows.
At some point my head tips back against the wall behind us.
And at some point, without either of us meaning to, we fall asleep tangled together in the middle of her bed while snow falls quietly outside the window.