They say that the first step of any journey is usually the hardest to take, and for Rasmus, that turned out to be true. He found it substantially easier to open up to Cora from then on, offering up fragments of his stories in a gradual stream that prevented him from becoming too overwhelmed by the weight saying too much too fast.

Some things he needed to shut off entirely for now. He said nothing more of his dad hurting him, but instead explained how his mom turned a blind eye to it, or how he'd spent the past fifteen years feeling like he had to be a brother, father, and mother to Ava all at once. That he even sucked at doing therapy right, which was supposed to be impossible to suck at. It helped that Cora was a good listener, not asking too many questions because she knew it wasn't her life to pick apart and scrutinize.

She had her own fair share of demons, too, and it was unexpectedly relieving to realize that he hadn't been the only kid in the idyllic suburb of Rothbury who was fucked up in the head. He'd been telling himself forever that since he was so privileged, he had no excuse not to get over his issues and be the perfect poster child everyone wanted him to be, but she was helping him see that the world wasn't always so black and white. That sometimes even the perfect girls from the perfect households with the perfect lives were still messed up.

By the time Monday rolled around again and it was time for him to go to his appointment with Dr. Pierce, Rasmus felt like he had an infinite number of things to fill her in on—so much so that for the first time ever, he quickly jotted his thoughts down in the notes app on his phone beforehand. It had only been two weeks since he'd seen her, which would have only been one had she not been out last week with a migraine, and yet his last conversation with her somehow felt like it had happened in another life entirely.

So as soon as he'd gotten to her office, sat down in his usual seat, and she'd closed the door behind them, he jumped straight to it.

"I told Cora," he said.

Dr. Pierce clicked her pen, ready to take notes. "Told Cora about what?"

"My dad."

Rasmus thought he saw her almost smile, but it was equally possible that he was imagining it. She was pragmatic, not precisely the sunniest person he knew. "And how did that go?"

"Surprisingly well," he replied before processing that she would surely want to hear at least a mildly substantial explanation of what actually happened. So he added, "She, um, she obviously hadn't known I was ever going through that. But she has her own stuff too, so she wasn't weird about it."

"Did she tell you that? About her own 'stuff?'"

"Yeah."

Dr. Pierce was silent for a moment as she scribbled something down, but Rasmus thought she definitely looked pleased. "So, to reiterate—you opened up to Cora and that made her comfortable enough to share more about herself with you in return? How did that make you feel?"

He nodded. "Good. It feels good. I guess I hadn't considered how different it might be to talk to someone who wasn't right there watching me go through all that shit, you know?"

"I would say that's exactly the logic that keeps me employed," Dr. Pierce pointed out whilst allowing herself a small grin. "Does talking with someone more detached from the situation make you feel less pressured to respond to it a certain way, perhaps?"

"Yeah, for sure."

"Do you plan to continue talking to her?"

Another sheepish nod. Rasmus was trying not to smile like a kid who had successfully talked to his crush, but the reality was that he'd been more at peace in the past week than he could remember ever being in his whole life and it was largely due to the newfound feeling of companionship he had with Cora. Now that he didn't have to feel like two sides of himself were fighting against each other all the time, he felt much more whole.

Content, Dr. Pierce set her notebook aside and placed her pen on top of it. "Well, Rasmus, it makes me happy to say that you seem to have had a breakthrough of sorts. You budged out of your comfort zone to open up to someone you were really nervous about talking to. Even if you hadn't gotten the results you were looking for, which it sounds like you did, you should be proud of yourself."

"A breakthrough," he echoed. "That has a nice ring to it."

Cora had felt like a zombie after doing four shows in two days for the holiday weekend, but after spending the majority of her Monday napping and Netflixing off the fatigue, she was reinvigorated and ready to jump back into another week of performances. She spent her morning lounging in the bath, breathing in the eucalyptus steam that rose off the water to soothe her voice, and then cocooned into the corner of the couch with a book until the time of afternoon when she needed to head to the theater rolled around.

Her feet carried her to Rasmus' door, where she announced herself with a quick knock and then waited. But when it swung open, she had to chew on her lip to stop herself from giggling—he had clearly been in the middle of brushing his teeth. Now the brush was sticking out of his mouth and she could barely understand him when he attempted to mumble around it. "Hi."

"You've got a little something right there," Cora grinned, lifting a pointer finger to the corner of her own lips. "A toothbrush-sized something. I wasn't sure if you noticed."

He rolled his eyes at her as he turned away, disappearing to the bathroom to go spit the toothpaste in the sink. She heard the tap turn on and off and then he was back a moment later, the toothbrush replaced by the house key that now dangled from his fingers.

Even though they had only started walking to work together recently, Cora had already become so accustomed to it that it would have felt odd to do it alone. By the time they headed to the theater on days where they only had an evening show, many of the people around them were already leaving work, and that sometimes made her feel a little too different, too set apart from the rest of the world. It was pleasant to have someone else join her on her unconventional commute, even if they barely talked to each other—it was best to save their voices for the show, after all.

They had to go their separate ways once they walked through the stage door, of course, but she'd see him in the wings before their first entrance. After transforming into Isla Rothschild over a cup of peppermint tea and a chat about Criminal Minds with Anais, Cora held her skirts and set off for the wings just as their stage manager came over the intercom system to announce their five-minute call.

Rasmus was already there and looking dashing as Theo, his hair neatly gelled into the place with much more precision than he ever would have had the patience for in his real life. Now that there was no longer silent resentment radiating off of both of them, this five-minute waiting period had become one of Cora's favorite moments backstage. They could already hear the hum of the audience, the excitement buzzing throughout the air, but no one was looking at them just yet. This was their peaceful moment of anonymity, the calm before the storm.

Rasmus glanced over at her; in the dim lighting, his eyes were the brightest thing about him. He leaned over to quietly say something to her, his breath tickling her skin. "You know, it's probably criminal that we haven't come up with some sort of pre-show ritual by now."

That was true. In every other show she'd been in, she'd had something, whether it was a goofy phrase she said to her castmates as she passed or just a quick, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

There was only a minute or so to go before they'd be onstage, so Cora followed her gut. She swiftly took his hand in her own—risky, since holding hands wasn't really a thing that they did—and pressed a quick kiss on the back of his palm. "For good luck," she murmured.

Rasmus was looking at her curiously, but he didn't let her go. He turned her hand over in his and returned the gesture, shy lips brushing against her skin.

"For good luck," he whispered back.

Cora didn't want to be silly and believe that a kiss on the hand had actually given her good luck, but she and Rasmus performed one of the best shows they'd done to date. Every line, every minuscule gesture seemed to deliver exactly as she wanted it to. She walked offstage afterward feeling exceptionally pleased with herself, like a painter who has just brushed the final stroke on their masterpiece and stepped back to admire their work.

Back in her dressing room, she was having the laces of her dress undone by Anais, who told Cora, "It sounded pretty loud out there tonight. You have a good show?"

The monitors in every room backstage meant that the whole crew could always see and hear what was happening onstage, albeit at a fuzzy camera quality and low volume. Everyone had to be on the same page about where they were in the show if they were going to get all their cues right.

"Yeah, we did."

Anais chuckled under her breath. "Is Rasmus in a good mood today?"

Cora's cheeks warmed—she hadn't noticed that she'd said we instead of I.

"Um, I think so," she answered as nonchalantly as she could, not wanting to give away that she'd been with him before they got to the theater.

It wasn't that she thought it was life or death that no one realized they were spending time together. No, the real issue was that she didn't know what they were, so she wouldn't have known how to answer if anyone asked. It wasn't like they were dating, but it wouldn't have been entirely accurate to just call them friends, either. 'Friends with benefits' was probably the nearest common descriptor for what they were right now, but that phrase made her cringe even when she was just saying it inside of her own head. It wasn't like she was using him as a sexual outlet. It wasn't that at all.

Just as she had pulled her own shirt back over her head, another announcement came over the intercom. "Cora Kline, if you could come to the stage door–" it was the voice of their doorman, Roger. "–you have a visitor asking for you."

She frowned. She hadn't been expecting anyone, nor did she know who in the world would show up unannounced. Simon, maybe? Her parents? As she hurried down to the stage door, she really, really hoped it wasn't a random person pretending to know her.

The door itself was cracked, with one of their security guards standing right inside and Roger at his usual post. "Do you know a Natasha Wilde?" he asked.

Cora suddenly felt lightheaded. "As in...she's here?"

Before he could reply, she heard a voice from the other side of the door. "Cora? Is that you?"

It was like a key being turned in a rusty lock, a sound that she had stored away long ago yet had never forgotten the shape of. It had been four years since Cora had seen Natasha in person, but the memories resurfaced as easefully as if they'd been roommates yesterday.

"Oh my God—Yes, she's with me, you can let her in–"

The security guard, who had been resting his hand on the door handle in a somewhat defensive stance, pulled it open wide enough for her to step inside. Natasha, here in the flesh.

"Nat!" Cora squealed and then was rushing forward to hug her friend. She returned the embrace, laughing under her breath at Cora's reaction to her. "Holy shit, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss you in your Broadway debut. What kind of friend would that make me?"

"One who didn't want to pay to fly across the country," Cora shrugged, but she was even more grateful now that she'd put on a good show tonight. "But I'm really damn glad that you did. C'mon, let me show you my dressing room."

As they headed off down the hall and she started rattling off about where everything was backstage, she was abruptly struck by what should have been the very first thought in her head when Nat came through the door: Rasmus. Her breath hitched in her throat—what was he going to think of seeing her after all this time? Surely she wasn't going to slip out without talking to him, right?

Cora sped up her walking pace, silently praying that he wouldn't step into the hall and see them before they could hide in her dressing room. Her heart thrummed in her chest as they passed his door, but it was closed and she could hear his voice from inside, talking to Gideon. She glanced over at Nat, whose mouth was firmly shut, and wondered what it must have been like for her to sit in the audience and see the boy who had betrayed her years ago pretending to be somebody else entirely.

Cora let out an audible, albeit hushed, sigh of relief when she was able to close her dressing room door behind them. Anais had already left with her costume, so she and Nat were alone. Nat, who was glancing around the room with a politely curious expression on her face.

"I'm really sorry that y'all won a freaking Tony and I barely even texted you congrats," she winced. "I know showing up here out of nowhere might have been a stupid move–"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Cora stopped her. She hadn't felt any ill will from Nat; this was just how long-distance friendships worked, especially once you'd grown up and had actual responsibilities to take care of. "But have you talked to him at all?"

Slowly, and looking a little embarrassed about it, Nat shook her head. "Not since the day I left. I...I came here to see both of you."

Cora nodded, a small sound slipping out between her teeth. It was completely logical that in the event that she wished to reconcile with Rasmus, Nat would choose to do it in person. But as much as she adored the idea of all of them getting along, Cora was nervous. She really believed that she'd finally gotten him to a stable place and had no idea if dropping the bombshell of Natasha Wilde on him right now would reverse all that progress and turn him back into that snake who liked to strike out at them at any chance he got.

"I'll take you to him," she offered cautiously. "But I have no idea how he's going to react."

"I know," Nat agreed, yet her hand wasn't entirely steady as she brushed a long lock of red hair behind her ear. "But I've put it off long enough."

Please be okay, Cora thought as they walked back down the hall in the direction they'd come from, but she understood that her anxiety was a selfish kind. Natasha had already cut Rasmus off completely; it wasn't like it could get much worse for them than that. But Cora herself had changed, so although she used to choose Nat over Rasmus every single day without a thought, she couldn't stand the thought of being asked to pick between them now.

"Stay back for a second," she whispered to Nat before firmly knocking on his dressing room door. Through the wood, she called, "It's me."

"Come in–"

Cora coaxed the door open just a crack, poking her head inside. He looked utterly relaxed while lounging back in his chair, which made her feel even more guilty for what she was about to do.

"Hey, Corali–" he started to say, but when he saw her expression, he stopped. "Is something wrong?"

Not wrong, she thought, and softly shook her head. "No, there's someone here to see you."

His eyebrows crinkled with confusion, but that was the only reaction he had time for before she eased the door completely open and allowed him to see the girl who stepped out from behind her. Cora watched as the color fled from his cheeks, as every muscle in his body went completely still, and for a split second, he reminded her of a marble statue she'd once seen in a museum—of one of Medusa's victims, paralyzed with utter shock.

Natasha didn't look much better, but she managed to swallow down her nerves and quietly ask, "Hey, Rasmus. Do you have a minute to talk?"

____________________

A/N:

Hi everyone! I wanted to thank you all for all of the really nice comments I got on the last chapter. One of the best (and easiest!) ways to support the authors whose stories you enjoy reading on Wattpad is to leave comments—they really go such a long way in motivating writers to keep going. I'm just one of so many people who pour time and energy every single day into crafting their stories to share on here, most of us doing it for free. The stories we write are inevitably personal to us at least in some sense, so it can be easy to get nervous or discouraged about putting our work out into the world. I really can't underestimate how much it helps to receive positive feedback. 

On that note, it's obviously totally fine to not like everything that you read, but please remember to be kind to authors. We know that our stories aren't perfect—a lot of them are first drafts! Constructive criticism and negativity aren't the same thing and being hurtful doesn't benefit anyone, so please be thoughtful about your comments.

All that aside, I also wanted to let you know that there will be 10 more chapters and an epilogue left in this book, so my goal is to continue posting at my current pace and hopefully finish it up in the next month or so! I realize that reading ongoing stories can sometimes be frustrating, so thanks for all your patience while you wait for more chapters to be posted.