Chapter Text
Two months, seven days, nine hours, and nine minutes. Is counting how long it's been since he died healthy?
Probably not.
Owen couldn't bring herself to care, as she walked through the supermarket in a slight daze. It was almost nostalgic, in some ways, how the layout stayed the same in her absence, despite the new and shiny stock.
Being back in Oakhurst after so many years is... strange.
She ran away with Louis, simply because he asked her to, and because they couldn't be together in a town like this.
But rent in every other city is high, and now the only reason she left is gone.
She grabbed a bottle of milk and stared at it for a few moments, before putting it back. Basic groceries were all she needed, and milk was too expensive, even here in the middle of nowhere.
She turned and walked to the bread aisle. Bread was an easy, versatile food. Louis always used to tease Owen about her habit of eating nothing but bread and butter.
Owen picked up a packet of bread, then turned to leave, freezing in place as she spotted a familiar figure.
She should've known, the people from her hometown would still be here.
She hoped everyone she knew moved away, but wishing for something like that is foolish and naive.
She grimaced and froze as the man spotted her, recognition crossing his face, and he made the move to walk over to her.
Owen clutched the bread and gave an awkward, strained smile.
"Owen, is that you?" Legundo said, smiling, his voice almost cracking with either laughter in disbelief, or relief.
Owen nodded, gritting their teeth.
"Mhm. Hey. It's, uh, it's been a while." She murmered, looking away.
"Yeah! How many years now?" Legundo grinned, crossing his arms across his chest. Owen took a moment to study his appearance.
He was still taller than herself, fairly muscled, but with a slight softness to him. His hair was cut cleanly, a slightly grown out buzz, and his beard was the same. Delicate golden glasses were perched on his nose.
Owen knew that she didn't look much different to how she used to, she shouldn't have been surprised he recognised her. Some part of her hoped that she passed well enough now for him to only notice the similarities, not be able to fully recognise her.
"Uh, about seven years, I think." Owen choked out, shrugging. They broke eye contact and glanced around the area, looking for any escape from the interaction.
"That's insane... and how's Lou? Does he still go by that, or...." Legundo trailed off, pausing slightly when he noticed the scowl on Owen's face.
"Uh— I, uh, he ended up choosing Louis." Owen gritted out, her shoulders hunching.
Legundo frowned. Owen cursed herself for liking how empathetic he is. How he notices everything. "...That's great. Are you okay? Did something.. happen?"
"Yeah, uhm, just tired. Got to go. Buy this... bread." Owen muttered, turning on her heel and rushing away. She speed-walked into another aisle, cringing at her own incompetance in social settings, and leaned against a nearby wall.
She could feel her knees locking, the warning sign before they cave in. They wish they put the knee braces on before coming out, or at least grabbed the cane.
At least it didn't seem like Legundo had followed her. Some semblance of peace in this hellish situation would be nice.
Owen forced herself to stand straight, ignoring the strain on her limbs, and marched back through the store.
What else is essential? Bread, maybe some butter. Water, of course, a few bottled waters would be nice. Maybe a precooked chicken roast for dinner. That's healthy enough, Louis would be proud of her—
She made a soft noise, bumping right into someone. Always lost in her thoughts.
Unfortunately, it was that same familiar face, again.
"Oh, Owen, are you okay? Fancy bumping into you twice." Legundo chuckled.
Owen grimaced and steadied herself on a nearby fruit container.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Owen sighed. "Sorry, I wasn't looking, I... I'm just going to.. grab some stuff before I buy the bread, and..."
"Mind if I join you? Maybe we could catch up. I'm just doing a weekly grocery run, you know, grabbing the essentials..." Legundo offered, his ever smiling face almost a mocking symbol in her mind.
"I'm... just grabbing the essentials too, ugh..." Owen mumbled.
"We don't have to, it's just an offer. I haven't seen you in years, man— why'd you come back?" Legundo blinked, idly grabbing a few oranges and putting them in a plastic bag.
"Uhh... cheaper rent in a town near the countryside." Owen sighed, adjusting herself slightly. She ignored the sharp pains travelling up her thighs.
"Oh, yeah? I guess it is cheaper here." Legundo hummed. "Did Louis come with you?"
Owen tensed and resisted the urge to scream and cry. In the middle of a supermarket, infront of her old best friend, it'd be social suicide. She held it in and shook her head, pursing her lips shut into a tight line.
"Nope." She murmered, ignoring the shakiness of her voice. (Ignoring how uncomfortabley deep it still was.)
Legundo's expression shifted, and Owen knew he had caught onto something being wrong.
"Oh, well, uh..." The man paused for a few moments. "Do you have a job yet, or...?"
Owen silently thanked him for the change in subject. He never pushed on topics he knew others didn't want to talk about, even if he was worried. That's one of the things Owen admired, and one of the things Louis used to gush about.
"Uh, well, I have an interview for the home depot tomorrow." Owen said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Oh, that's nice." Legundo muttered.
Awkward silence filled the aisle, only broken up by the sounds of a crying baby somewhere in the distance, someone yelling at a cashier, and the sound of the refrigerators in the back of the store humming softly.
"I have to go. Now." Owen stuttered. "I'll catch you around, Legs."
The nickname slipped out of her mouth before she realised. Goddamn Legundo, being something so familiar.
Eventually, Owen made it out of the hell-store, and to the parkinglot.
Once in her car, with the groceries safely secured on the passenger seat, she took a moment to rest and scream internally.
Her eyes burned, her face felt flushed, and their hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
The drive back to the shitty apartment she was staying in was long. She mulled over every word that was said. Every lingering glance Legundo made.
She picked up on how he called her "man"— sometimes she could take it as a gender neutral term, one of endearment, a way to call a close friend without using their name, but she knew how he meant it.
She glanced up at herself in the rearview mirror. She couldn't blame him. She hadn't ever come out to anyone in Oakhurst. She didn't even know she was trans up until a few years ago.
About a year after she ran away with Louis. He got kicked out of his parent's house, seventeen, while Owen herself was sixteen at the time.
Owen didn't have any attachment to Oakhurst, not really, discounting Legundo and very few others.
Louis was all she truly cared for back then. She didn't mind leaving Oakhurst, it was never really home. Louis was.
Owen pulled into the parkinglot and let herself reminisce.
A cold night, in the middle of autumn. Owen shoved a few things into a backpack and walked out the door. Her parents didn't stop her. They had acted like she was already dead for years. A disgrace of a son, really. Always hanging around that transvestite. Always bruised and complaining. The doctor's cant even figure out what's wrong with him, why should we care anymore?
Owen stepped out onto the porch and bit back a grimace as the frost and air carressed her body. It was always worse during the cold months. Her bones and joints ached more, and some days it felt like she couldn't bare to walk at all.
But today they had to. She was meeting Louis at the park, and they were going to run away together. Free. Free from this horrible town.
Owen walked through the empty neighborhood, every step feeling like a knife stabbing through the back of her knee. Every time she shifted her weight from one side to the other, pain would spike and travel up their body.
She gripped her sleeves and fidgeted nervously, finally coming to the old park. It was never full of people, Oakhurst didn't have many children anymore.
She sat on a bench and let out a sigh, kicking the gravel idly.
She pulled the hoodie off her head and glanced around, waiting for Louis.
Owen shivered slightly in the cold, and started to twirl her hair lightly as she waited, grimacing at how greasy it currently was.
And eventually, Louis rushed through the park. His face was set in a smile, but Owen could tell it was strained. His eyes were tired and slightly red. He came to sit next to her few a few moments, his warm hand grasping hers.
Owen leaned her head onto his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Are you ready?" Louis asked softly. Back then, his voice was fairly high, despite how he tried to push it deeper into his chest. Owen loved it, but understood how much it hurt him. Her own voice gave the same feeling of dysphoria, the feeling of razor blades cutting through her vocal cords any time her voice cracked. At the time, she didn't fully understand the feeling. It probably felt the same for Louis.
"Are you?" Owen whispered in return, weakly squeezing Louis' hand. He nodded.
They stood together, hand in hand, with Owen slightly leaning against him.
They walked to the bus stop and hopped onto the next one that came.
They traveled from station to station, bus to train, train to bus, and eventually to somewhere states away.
Two teenagers alone in the cities, going from shelter to shelter, and eventually working up their way to a small apartment, and going from there.
The years passed by fast, too fast, and Owen wished she had savoured them more.
Louis met his goals, started taking testosterone, and became even more handsome as his confidence grew.
They went to a small college together. They got jobs. They started doing regular adult things.
They slept curled up together every night. Louis would help Owen get up if she couldn't find the strength. He talked her through the aching, all-consuming feeling of dysphoria.
Owen helped him in turn. She helped him train his voice. She helped him with his assignments, even if she didn't understand half of the flowery words and fancy lettering of political science.
Things were going well. Owen was happy, about to start HRT, and Louis had finally gotten a job as apart of a new political party.
They had baked a cake together to celebrate, along with going out for drinks just before.
Owen giggled and pulled the fully baked cake out of the oven, placing it on the counter and absently kicking the door of it closed.
She wished she had paid more attention.
They frosted and ate the cake, going back to bed laughing together and making jokes.
A loud alarm woke them up.
The scent of smoke filled their lungs. Louis rushed Owen out, they were both still hungover and groggy from the prior drinking.
Owen should've been the one to die in that fire. But Louis pushed her out onto the fire escape last second, before he wheezed and coughed. Owen can't get that out of her head, the image of him through the window, the flames licking his skin.
Everything since then was a blur. Owen didn't have any stable job, therefore couldn't afford rent. She moved back to Oakhurst and pushed her way through the thick fog and heavy sludge that filled her head.
Two months, seven days, nine hours, and thirty nine minutes, now.
She inhaled sharply and got out of the car, limping her way to the building with the groceries in her arms.
After the groceries were sloppily packed away in the small kitchen, she collapsed onto the bed and tried to not cry to death.
The pillows soaked with tears. She sobbed more as that familiar aching crawled up her limbs, sept through her skin and soaked in her bones.
Two months, seven days, 10 hours, and four minutes since Louis died.
She fell into a restless sleep.