✧･Chapter 12 I Know You
June's house is louder than usual, the kind of chaos that comes from too many people sharing the same space and no one trying very hard to keep things quiet.
Lucia is racing back and forth across the living room, her words tumbling over each other as she retells the game to Chris, who's stretched out on the couch doing his best to follow along.
Every few seconds she changes direction mid-sentence, like the story itself is pulling her somewhere new.
Faye has decided my knees are the perfect place to burn off whatever energy she woke up with.
She grips my shoulders for balance as she jumps over and over again, laughing so hard it turns breathless, like this is the greatest idea she's ever had. I laugh with her, sliding my hands under her arms to help boost her a little higher.
"I guess you napped hard enough for all of this energy," I tell her, and she just nods quickly, giggling louder instead of answering.
It's easy to sink into this, into the familiarity of it. The noise, the warmth, the constant movement as it gives me something to focus on, something steady enough that for a moment I can forget about everything else.
Then the front door opens.
"Please, you would be disowned in Italy."
Lucas's voice carries through the house, followed by a laugh and then a scoff that hits somewhere deeper than it should before I even look.
"I still don't care. Sue me, I like pineapple on my pizzas."
Claire. The sound of her voice settles into me before I can stop it, and when I turn my head, she's already walking in beside Lucas, holding pizza boxes like she belongs here, like this is easy for her.
Like earlier didn't happen. Like she didn't look at me the way she did, didn't follow me, didn't stand too close and said my name like it meant something.
She looks the same as she did outside - relaxed and unbothered, her hair slightly out of place, like she never tries and never has to. It makes something in my chest tighten in a way that feels both familiar and frustrating.
"It's a crime," Lucas says, nudging her with his shoulder.
Claire scoffs and bumps him back without hesitation, the two of them moving easily toward the table.
I don't realize I'm staring until she glances up and catches me.
It's brief, but it's enough. Enough for something to flicker across her expression before she looks away again, setting the pizzas down like nothing passed between us at all.
"What about you, Mae?" Her voice pulls my attention back too quickly, and I blink, trying to catch up.
"What?" I murmur, confused.
Claire pauses, tilting her head slightly, a small, almost amused smile forming like she's more aware of me than I'm comfortable with. "Do you like pineapple on pizza?"
"Oh. I-" I shift slightly as Faye keeps bouncing, my thoughts still a step behind. "It's not my favorite, but I'm not opposed to it."
Claire's smile widens just a fraction before she looks at Lucas. "See?"
"That doesn't count for anything," he mutters, already moving past it as he walks over and scoops Faye up from my lap. She squeals immediately, kicking her legs as he starts tickling her, her laughter filling the space I didn't realize she'd been taking up.
The sudden absence of her weight leaves me feeling strangely aware of everything else.
Claire lingers by the table for a second longer than necessary, her hand resting lightly against one of the pizza boxes like her attention isn't entirely on what she's doing.
Then she pulls out a chair and sits, settling in like she's always been part of this, which to be fair, she always had been. Even when she was across the country.
I try to focus on Helena moving into the room with plates, on June signing something quick to Lucia that makes her light up again, on anything that isn't the quiet pull of my attention drifting back to Claire.
But it doesn't stick.
It keeps circling back to the way she laughs softly at something Lucas says, to the way she leans back in her chair, to the way her hands move without thought. And before I can stop it, those small, meaningless details start pulling at something deeper.
The memory comes back sharper than I expect. The feeling of her hand on my arm, steady and certain. The way she'd leaned in close enough that I could feel her breath, hear the shift in her voice when she said my name. The way everything in me had reacted before I could think better of it.
I swallow, trying to ground myself in the present, but it doesn't fully work. The feeling lingers, low and persistent, like it never really left.
"Are you nervous for your show next week?"
Helena's voice cuts through my thoughts, and I look up quickly, grateful for the interruption. She's setting plates down on the table, her attention already on me.
"A little," I admit, straightening slightly, brushing my hands against my jeans like I can ground myself that easily. "It's just... a lot of people."
Helena hums softly, like she already expected that answer.
"I get that. But you'll do great, you always do.
You've done what, dozens of these shows already?
" She gives me a small, reassuring smile as she nudges a plate closer in my direction.
"And June will be there. You know she won't let you spiral too much. "
I let out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. "Yeah. She's pretty good at that."
"Someone has to be," Helena teases lightly, glancing toward June, who's mid-conversation with Lucia, hands moving quickly as she signs. "You disappear into your own head too easily."
"I do not," I protest, but there's no real weight behind it.
Helena just raises an eyebrow like she doesn't believe me for a second.
"A show?"
Claire's voice cuts in, and I feel it before I fully register it. I turn my head toward her, and she's already looking at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, her attention steady in a way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.
"Uh- yeah," I say, my voice catching just enough that I notice it. "It's next week."
"What kind of show?" she asks, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting against the table now. There's something more focused about her, like this actually matters to her. "Like a gallery? Exhibition?"
"Gallery," I nod. "New collection. It's... kind of a bigger one."
"Kind of?" Helena scoffs quietly. "Mae's being modest. It's a big deal."
I glance at her quickly. "Helena-"
"It is," she insists, looking back at Claire. "People come from out of town for her shows. She just doesn't like to say that part out loud."
There's a small pause, and when I look back at Claire, something in her expression has shifted. It's softer now, but more intent. Like she's seeing me a little differently.
"That's amazing," she says, quieter this time and the words land heavier than they should.
I nod once, not trusting myself to say much more, but she doesn't look away right away. Her gaze lingers just long enough that I feel it settle somewhere under my skin again, familiar in a way that makes it hard to breathe normally.
"I know you'll do well," she adds, softer now, like it's not just something polite to say.
I swallow, forcing myself to look away first. "Thanks," I manage, quieter than I intend.
Claire nods once, like that's enough, like she's already said what she meant to. Then she reaches for one of the plates Helena set down, the moment breaking as easily as it started, and places it in front of herself.
"Do I get to come?" she asks casually, like the question doesn't carry any weight at all. "Or is it one of those exclusive, invite-only things?"
Helena lets out a small laugh. "Please, she'd never turn down more people showing up."
I glance back at Claire before I can stop myself. "It's not invite-only," I say. "Anyone can come."
"Good," Claire replies easily, but there's something in the way she says it that doesn't feel casual at all. "Wouldn't want to miss it."
And somehow, that thought settles deeper than anything else she's said so far and those words linger longer than they should.
Before I can decide what to do with that, I catch movement to my left. June is already stepping closer to the table, her attention fixed on me. She taps lightly against the surface to get my focus, though she doesn't need to.
I look at her immediately and her expression is calm, but there's intention behind it - something steady and quiet that tells me this isn't random.
Her hands move as she signs.
Come help me for a second?
It's casual enough on the surface, but her eyes stay on mine, patient and expectant. I hesitate for just a second, then nod and I push my chair back. "I'll be right back."
Helena glances between us, subtle but knowing, though she doesn't say anything. I don't look at Claire as I stand, even though I can feel her awareness like a pull at the edge of my focus.
I follow June down the hallway, the noise of the house softening behind us with each step. It's quieter back here, and something in my chest tightens as I realize this isn't just about grabbing something from another room.
June stops at the spare bedroom and opens the door, stepping inside. I follow, and she closes it gently behind me and the quiet settles immediately.
I cross my arms loosely, leaning back against the wall as I watch her before I sign to her.
What do you need?
June turns to face me fully and she doesn't answer right away. She just looks at me. Really looks, and then her hands move.
How are you doing?
I blink, thrown off by the question before signing.
I'm fine.
Her expression doesn't change but her hands do.
Mae.
Just my name, but it lands heavier than it should.
It always has, coming from her. There's too much history in it, too many years of being known in ways I don't let anyone else get close to anymore.
It makes it harder to hide, harder to pretend I'm fine when I'm not even sure what fine is supposed to feel like right now.
I let out a slow breath, my gaze slipping away from hers for just a second before I lift my hands again.
I am, June. What's going on?
She doesn't answer right away, she just looks at me, like she's peeling back layers I didn't even realize I'd put up. Then she sighs softly, something almost resigned in it, before her hands move.
Helena told me.
My brows pull together, confusion coming quick, instinctive.
What are you talking about?
June doesn't hesitate this time.
Claire told her. Helena told me. A brief pause. But honestly... I was already trying to figure out what the hell was going on between you and Claire.
The words hit like something dropped too suddenly into still water that feels sharp and disruptive.
I stare at her, my body going a little too still as heat creeps up the back of my neck. It's immediate and involuntary. I shake my head, a short, humorless laugh slipping out before I can stop it, more reflex than anything real.
Nothing is going on between us.
June tilts her head slightly, her expression soft but unmoved, like she's already braced for that answer.
I'm not accusing you of anything, honey. Her hands slow, gentler now. I've known you since we were kids. I know when you're hurting, and I know when something is wrong.
Something in my chest tightens at that...at the quiet certainty in her. I push myself off the wall, the movement sharper than I intend, my hands moving faster now, tighter.
Nothing is wrong, June. Everything is fine. Please, just drop it.
Even as I sign it, I can feel how thin it sounds, how brittle, but June doesn't flinch.
It's not nothing, Mae. Her gaze stays locked on mine, steady and unyielding in the gentlest way possible. Not with the way you act every single time Claire is in the same room.
My stomach twists.
I've never seen you like that, she continues. And I've never seen you look like that.
My brows pull together, defensive now, something sharper edging in to cover everything else.
Seen me look like what?
June hesitates. Not for long, but long enough that something uneasy starts to settle under my skin. Like I already know I'm not going to like the answer.
When she finally signs, it's slower.
You look at her like she's something dangerous to you.
The words hit first, hard and uncomfortable, but she doesn't stop.
But you also look at her like she means the world to you.
My breath catches. Actually catches. I let out a laugh, but it sounds wrong the second it leaves me, like I'm trying to cut the moment in half before it can sink in.
"That's not-" I start, but my voice falls apart halfway through, and I don't even try to finish it.
June's hands are already moving again.
That's how I used to look at Helena.
That one lands differently. It doesn't hit like a shock... it settles, slow and heavy, like something sinking into place whether I want it to or not.
I shake my head again, but it's weaker this time, less certain. "No," I murmur under my breath, even though I don't fully commit to signing it.
Because something in my chest is already reacting.
Images I don't want come anyway. Claire too close, her voice low in my ear, the warmth of her breath, the way her hand felt against my arm, steady and grounding and completely undoing at the same time.
The way my body had responded before I could think better of it.
The way my heart had raced like it was trying to outrun something it didn't understand.
I swallow hard, my gaze dropping to the floor as my hands fall still for a second.
"That's not what this is," I say finally while signing, but it doesn't sound convincing. Not even to me.
June doesn't argue. She just watches me, her expression softening, something aching and understanding in it all at once.
Then what is it?
The question isn't sharp, it doesn't push. It just... waits, and that somehow makes it worse. I open my mouth, ready to deflect again, to shut it down, to give her anything that sounds like control, but nothing comes out.
Because for the first time, standing here in the quiet with someone who already sees too much, I don't actually know how to explain it without telling the truth.
And the truth feels too big to say out loud. So I don't. I just stand there, chest tight, throat burning, caught somewhere between denial and something that feels dangerously close to breaking open.
And June lets me. She doesn't push again, doesn't force it out of me. She just stays, steady and patient, right in front of me. Like she knows that sooner or later, I'm not going to be able to keep holding it in.
June doesn't push. She doesn't fill the silence or press for an answer I'm clearly not ready to give.
She just stands there, steady and grounded in a way she's always been, like she knows this moment isn't about forcing the truth out of me - it's about giving me somewhere safe to land if I fall into it on my own.
Her hands move again, slower this time, softer.
You don't have to explain it to me.
Something in my chest tightens.
You don't have to have the right words for it either.
I let out a shaky breath, one I didn't realize I'd been holding, my eyes still fixed somewhere near the floor like looking at her directly might undo me faster.
June takes a small step closer, careful, like she's approaching something fragile.
I just don't want you to feel like you're alone in it.
That's what does it, not the questions, not the fact that she already knows more than I've said.
It's that. The quiet certainty in her. The lack of judgment. The way she's standing here like this doesn't change anything about how she sees me.
My throat tightens, and I press my lips together, trying to hold it in, to keep everything where it belongs, contained and manageable and not spilling over into something I can't take back.
"I'm not-" I start, but my voice comes out uneven, thinner than I want it to.
I stop and swallow, and try again.
"I'm not alone," I say while signing, but it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself more than her.
June's expression softens even more, something almost aching in it now as she signs.
You feel alone.
My jaw tightens immediately, instinct kicking in. "I don't," I argue, too quick, too sharp - but the words don't hold and they don't land the way I want them to. Because the second they leave me, something in my chest pulls tighter, like it's calling me out from the inside.
I look away again, dragging a hand over the back of my neck, my breathing uneven now in a way I can't quite steady.
"I just-" I shake my head, frustrated, lost in something I can't put into words. "I don't know what this is, June." I say, while signing.
There it is, it's small, barely anything. But it's the closest I've gotten to the truth. My hands come up again, slower this time, less controlled.
I don't understand it, I sign, my movements not as clean as they usually are. I don't... feel like this. I've never-
I stop, my fingers faltering mid-motion as something tightens in my chest again, sharper this time.
Because that's not entirely true, or maybe it is. Just not in the way I want it to be. I drop my hands, exhaling shakily as I press the heel of my palm briefly against my sternum like I can physically ease the pressure there.
"It doesn't make sense," I say quietly, mainly to myself.
June doesn't interrupt.
Her hands move after a moment, gentle and steady.
It doesn't have to make sense right now.
I let out a quiet, almost humorless breath. "That's kind of the problem." I say while signing.
A faint, sympathetic smile touches her face.
I know.
There's a pause, softer this time, less heavy, and then she signs.
You're allowed to feel something without it meaning everything all at once.
I finally look at her again, and something in my chest shifts, just slightly, at the way she's standing there - open and patient, not asking me to define anything I'm not ready to.
My eyes sting faintly, and I blink quickly, looking away again before it can turn into anything more obvious.
"I can't-" My voice catches, and I clear my throat, quieter when I try again while signing. "I can't be that person."
The words slip out before I can stop them, they hang there, heavier than anything else I've said.
June's expression changes, not shocked or disappointed, just... understanding in a way that almost makes it worse.
You don't even know what that means yet, she signs gently.
I shake my head immediately, my chest tightening again. "I do," I insist, but it comes out weaker than I want it to.
Because I'm not just talking about me. I'm thinking about my parents. About the way I was raised. About every quiet, unspoken rule that was never supposed to be broken.
June steps closer, just enough that I can feel her presence without her touching me.
You don't have to decide anything tonight, she adds. Or tomorrow.
My shoulders drop slightly, like something in me is finally giving up the fight to hold everything perfectly in place.
"And what if it doesn't go away?" I ask, barely above a whisper as I sign.
It's the most honest thing I've said and June doesn't hesitate.
Then it doesn't.
My breath catches again, and this time I don't quite manage to hide it. I look down, blinking hard as that pressure in my chest builds into something sharper, something that feels dangerously close to breaking through.
I press my lips together, trying to hold it in, but my breathing gives me away.
A shaky inhale, a quick, almost silent exhale that doesn't quite steady anything.
My hand comes up to my face, pressing briefly against my mouth like I can contain it, like I can push everything back down where it belongs.
"I don't want this to ruin everything," I admit, the words slipping out muffled as I sign.
June doesn't move right away. Then, gently, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly against my arm.
It won't, she signs.
I shake my head slightly, my voice rough now as I sign. "You don't know that."
Her grip tightens just a fraction, enough to make me look at her again.
I know you, she corrects.
And for a moment, that's enough. Not to fix it, not to make it disappear.
But enough that I don't feel like I'm completely unraveling on my own.