Annabelle stood on the doorstep in a dressing gown and slippers, her hair wild, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that looked like panic.
Raven's stomach dropped. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"You're alive," Annabelle said.
Raven blinked. "What?"
"I thought you were dead." Annabelle pressed one hand to her chest, breathing hard. "I thought… I thought something terrible had happened."
Raven frowned. "Why would you think I was dead?"
"Because it was quiet." Annabelle said, like this explained everything. "There was no guitar, no music, nothing, and you always play at night, but tonight it was just…silent. And then I started thinking about Nina's photo going viral, and everyoneknowing where you are now, and what if some stalker found you, or what if…" She stopped, seeming to realize how she sounded. "Sorry. I'm being ridiculous."
Despite the hour, despite her splitting headache, despite everything, Raven felt something warm unfurl in her chest.
She was worried. Annabelle had been actually worried about her.
"The papers report I'm dead all the time," Raven said. "It's something about rockstars. We're apparently always dying dramatically somewhere. I think I've been declared dead at least four times this year."
Annabelle stared at her. Then, impossibly, she laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's not." But Annabelle was smiling now, the panic fading from her face. "I'm sorry. I panicked. You're clearly fine, so I'll just, um…"
"Come in," Raven said.
Annabelle paused. "What?"
"Come in. I'll make you some tea." Raven stepped back, opening the door wider. "You look like you need it."
For a moment, Annabelle just stood there, surprise written across her face. Then she nodded and followed Raven inside.
The kitchen was a disaster: empty bottles, notebooks covered in crossed-out lyrics, her guitar propped against the wall, but Annabelle didn't seem to notice. She just sat down at the kitchen table, folding her hands in front of her like a well-behaved student.
Raven filled the kettle, hyperaware of Annabelle's presence in her space. It should have felt intrusive. Instead, it felt…right. Like Annabelle belonged there.
Dangerous thought.
She made two mugs of tea, milk and sugar for Annabelle, black for herself, and sat down across from her.
In the warm light of the kitchen, Raven could see the exhaustion etched into Annabelle's face. The dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the way she seemed to be holding herself together by sheer force of will.
"You look knackered," Raven said.
Annabelle let out a tired laugh. "You really know how to charm someone."
"I'm serious. When's the last time you slept properly?"
"I sleep." Annabelle wrapped both hands around her mug, not meeting Raven's eyes.
"Annabelle."
"I'm fine." But her voice wavered slightly. "Really. I just need to keep going. The fundraiser is in less than two weeks, and there's still so much to do, and if I don't…"
She stopped. Swallowed.
Raven waited, something pounding in her chest. She'd spent weeks watching Annabelle smile through everything, relentlessly positive even when Raven was being deliberately difficult. But now, sitting across from her in the quiet, she could see the cracks.
