Angel had always been there—hovering just outside the spotlight, in the corners of group photos, always the one offering her jacket when someone was cold or standing silently by someone's side when they needed support but couldn't ask for it.
But now, Erica started noticing her more.
At first, it was subtle.
It was in the way Angel always seemed to glance in Erica's direction during breaks—just to check if she was okay. It was in the way she kept her pace just a step slower when they walked together, as if giving Erica space to speak if she wanted to, but never asking her to.
Angel didn't push. She never did. Not even when Erica disappeared for three days after a breakdown. Not even when she lashed out during practice, throwing a ball too hard and storming off the court. Angel had simply found her afterward, sitting under the old bleachers, sweaty and angry with herself.
"You good?" Angel had asked, crouching beside her with a sports drink and a quiet patience that made Erica's throat tighten.
And that was it. No lecture. No judgment. Just presence.
That presence lingered.
One cool evening, as the two of them walked home after practice, their sneakers scuffing the pavement, Erica found herself glancing sideways at Angel.
"You're different," Erica murmured.
Angel turned to her, brow arched. "How so?"
"I don't know…" Erica sighed. "You just don't give up on me."
Angel smiled faintly, kicking a stray pebble on the sidewalk. "I've known you since we were kids, Erica. I know when you need someone, even when you won't admit it."
That stuck with her more than she expected.
Erica thought about it later that night, lying in bed with the moonlight cutting silver lines across her floor. Her phone buzzed once.
Angel: Made sure you got home safe. Night.
She stared at the message for a long time before typing out a reply.
Erica: Thank you.
And for once, she meant it without feeling weak for needing someone.
---
There were still days when the memories hit hard.
Like in the hallway when Nicole laughed too loudly at something Cloud said, and Erica's chest clenched without warning. It wasn't jealousy—not anymore. It was something quieter. Sadder. Like hearing an old song you once loved but can't listen to the same way now.
She didn't run from it anymore. Instead, she breathed through it. Slowly. Carefully.
"You don't have to erase her," Risha told her one afternoon as they leaned on the rooftop railing, watching the sky blush with sunset. "You just have to stop letting her control you."
And Erica nodded, letting the words sink deep into her bones.
Maybe Nicole would always be a part of her, but that didn't mean she had to define her.
---
After one grueling practice where the sun had practically melted the court, Erica collapsed onto the bench, drenched in sweat and panting like she'd just run a marathon.
"Jesus, I think I just died," she muttered.
A plastic bottle hit her leg.
She looked up to see Angel grinning, holding another bottle of water in one hand and a towel slung around her shoulder.
"You looked like you were dying out there," Angel teased, tossing the towel next.
Erica caught it and laughed breathlessly. "Thanks. My hero."
Their hands brushed as Angel handed it over, and Erica felt it—that strange warmth that had nothing to do with the sun or the practice drills. It lingered like a secret on her skin, quiet and buzzing.
She shook it off. Probably just the adrenaline.
But the next time it happened—when their fingers brushed again as they reached for the same pen during study group—she noticed how Angel didn't pull away. And neither did she.
---
Happiness felt foreign at first, like putting on an old jacket you thought you lost and weren't sure still fit.
But it was coming back.
Kim started dragging them into chaotic conversations during study sessions, telling weird jokes that made no sense but made everyone laugh anyway. Audrey forced movie nights on them—sometimes mid-week—just to "preserve the brain cells academia was trying to kill."
Risha brought snacks and sass to every hangout. She rolled her eyes when Erica spaced out and threw chips at her head until she snapped out of it.
"You're smiling more," Steph said one afternoon as they sprawled out on the field, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead.
Erica blinked, surprised. "I am?"
"Yeah," Audrey chimed in from behind her sunglasses. "And it actually looks real this time."
Erica looked up at the sky, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "Maybe I was happy these past few weeks," she said quietly.
They didn't say anything after that. They didn't have to.
---
One weekend, Angel invited Erica to a local fair.
Just the two of them.
Erica had hesitated at first. It felt… too intimate. Too couple-y. But Angel's invitation came with a shrug and a grin. "Or we can just go to the bookstore after. No pressure."
She went.
The fair was loud, crowded, chaotic—and weirdly perfect.
They ate overpriced cotton candy, tried (and failed) to win stuffed toys, and ended up sitting side by side on the grass near the edge of the fairgrounds, watching the fireworks light up the night.
"You ever wonder how the hell we all survived this year?" Angel asked, lying back with her arms crossed under her head.
Erica looked over at her, her cheeks flushed pink from laughing too much earlier. "Honestly? No clue."
Angel turned her head to meet her eyes. "But you did. And I'm proud of you."
Erica swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "You make it sound like I climbed a mountain or something."
"You kind of did," Angel said. "And you didn't do it alone."
Erica lay down beside her, watching the explosions of color above them.
"No," she whispered. "I didn't."
---
Things didn't change overnight, but they shifted.
Like the way Angel started walking her home more often, even if it meant going out of her way.
Like how Erica didn't pull away when Angel casually leaned her head on her shoulder during breaks.
Like the way her heart no longer raced in panic at the sight of Nicole, but fluttered—unexpectedly—whenever Angel laughed too hard at something Erica said.
Erica wasn't sure what it was yet.
But it was there.
And it was gentle.
---
One evening, as they sat side by side on Erica's porch, sipping iced drinks and watching the sky grow dark, Angel turned to her.
"Hey," Angel said softly, "can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you ever think we're allowed to be happy? Like, really happy?"
Erica looked at her for a long moment.
"I think," she said slowly, "we forget that we deserve to be."
Angel didn't respond right away. Then, with a small smile, she nodded. "Maybe we can remind each other."
Erica smiled back.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Maybe we can."
---
That night, after Angel left, Erica stood in her room and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked the same. A little tired. A little tangled. But her eyes didn't look as hollow anymore.
She picked up her phone and scrolled through old photos—some with Nicole, some with Cloud, some from the nights she cried herself to sleep thinking she'd never be okay again.
And then, she opened her gallery and took a photo of herself now.
Just her. Smiling.
She sent it to Angel.
Erica: I think I'm starting to like the person I'm becoming.
The reply came almost instantly.
Angel: I always liked her.
Erica stared at the message for a long time.
And for the first time in a very long while, she allowed herself to hope.
Maybe this was the beginning of something.
Not intense. Not messy. Not tragic.
Something real.
Something soft.
And maybe, just maybe…
Something that would last.