A Whisper in Our Ear (Or A Bottle for Our Fears)

When Nat gets home from the hospital, she wastes no time flopping facedown on her bed, still in her iridescent outfit and the dusty pink hoodie she’d thrown over it waiting to see if Violet was okay. Once her parents are satisfied that she isn’t hurt, they let her be. They’ve seen more than enough of Nat’s post-mission emotional crashes to know that she needs some space.
Usually, anyway. And God knows Nat doesn’t want to talk to her parents about what she’s feeling now. Carmen, beautiful genius that she is, was absolutely right when she said that Violet was talking more about herself than anyone else; still, Nat can’t shake some of the things Violet said.
One thing in particular. “I can’t be a weapon anymore,” Violet said. “I can’t be your weapon anymore.” And - and Nat knows Carmen’s right. Probably. But it cut somewhere Nat keeps hidden, where she’s always so careful around Violet. After everything Violet’s been through, it would be so easy for someone with Nat’s force of personality to bulldoze over what sense of self she had left when she joined Big Team. Let alone the sense of self she’s built, inch by inch, over the year and a half since. So Nat tries so hard to back off and let Violet be her own person, and for Violet to throw that in her face…it hurts. And it drags up a bunch of feelings Nat’s been resolutely ignoring for, oh, at least a solid year.
Nat’s whole body feels heavy, down to her feet where they hang off the bed since she hadn’t bothered to take off her shoes. Because for Violet to pull that card, even self-destructively, means Nat’s fucked up somewhere. Everywhere, really. Nat thinks back on all the missions she’s been on with Violet, cringing over how obvious she’s been. How selfish with Violet’s time. Constantly demanding her attention, her friendship, her space, even after so much of those things were taken from her by force and replaced with a super-soldier.
Worse yet, even knowing that Violet is the way she is because awful people did awful things to her, Nat…likes it. The way Violet is. Tall, and strong, protective of her friends, and the way Nat knows Violet’s dangerous but would never turn it against Nat. Except that one time, but honestly, if Nat kept track of every time someone got hurt because a teammate lost control, she’d never have time for anything else. That was ages ago, anyway, and long-forgiven. The point is: Nat knows that Violet would be completely different if it weren’t for the Crimson Circle. Nat knows Violet struggles every day to accept herself as she is now. Nat knows Violet needs support from a good friend. A real friend. And Nat still likes all the things Violet hates most about herself, and instead of supporting her Nat just sits here and wants things.
It’s not that she’s been treating Violet like a weapon. That’s the obviously false part. But hasn’t she been treating Violet like an object? And obviously Violet knows, or she wouldn’t have thrown that into Nat’s face. Nat feels revulsion rise up in the back of her throat. She’s been so selfish.
She presses her face harder into her pillow, half-wishing her body would let her suffocate herself. Unfortunately for her, physiological reflexes are king, and she surfaces again before long.
So, yeah, normally after a stressful mission Nat needs space. But at some point in the past year and a half she forgot how to keep this stuff in its box, and now she’s gotta talk to someone. As much as she would rather just lay here and die.
Resigning herself to her fate, Nat reaches for her phone. Barely picking her head up from the pillow, she texts Ryan. Do you think I’m a bad person? No, not that. She deletes it. Do you think I’m a bad friend? Closer, but not quite. Do you think I’m a bad friend for Violet? Like, treating her like a thing?
Ryan is heading out of class when their phone rings--for almost everyone they have it on silent, but they miss it going off then sometimes and if there’s ever an emergency--any emergency--they want to know. So for their mother, Wolfgang, Nat, and a few members of the Vanguard, they have actual ringtones. 
They know Nat’s texted them, this time, because the first few notes of a song play. It’s not one that she’s released yet, and it’s not enough for anyone else to identify it, but when she’d sent them the audio file of an early version they’d been both mortified and charmed. Perhaps, when she finally releases it, people will assume the references to stopped time are entirely metaphorical and not jump to the conclusion that Cadenza’s song about watching your nerdy friend be in love is about her actual friend who can stop time. At least, Ryan hopes they will. But it’s still extremely sweet that she thinks Ryan’s inept, flailing early days of dating are song-worthy. 
They smile, both at the reminder of the song and at the reminder of Nat, and pull out their phone to check the message--at which point the smile slides off of their face, as they read the message twice to make sure they’re getting it right. Nat’s gotten…close to questions like this before, after missions or during particular points of high despair, but she’s never flat-up asked it before. Ryan is halfway through typing out of course not before they realize that this really, really isn’t a conversation to be had over text message. 
They’re expected over at their mother’s place for dinner in thirty minutes, which usually is about when they get back from the Consortium in the first place, but…well, this is important. 
And it’s been a while since they’ve stretched their--metaphorical--wings a little bit. They slide into their time-senses easily, finding the point when they’re supposed to be at their mother’s house and mentally marking it to return to later, before tracing out the various paths the rest of the day could take for them, finding the one where they’re in front of Nat Nixon’s house, and--there. A moment of disorientation as they merged the themself of that moment in time with them currently, grabbing the physical location of one and the temporal location of the other, and they open their eyes to find themself on the familiar front step of the Nixons’ house. 
They let themself be pleased about how they weren’t, in fact, out of practice for the half-second it takes time to re-assert itself, and then knock on the door. A little explanation to Scott, who answers it--mostly “Nat texted me”--gets them inside,and so approximately--to Ryan’s count--seventy-nine seconds after they’d received the text they knock on Nat’s door. 
“I got your message. Can I come in?” 
Nat rockets up, palms flat on the bed and pushing her up into a C-shape with her feet still dangling off the edge of the mattress. “Ryan?” She near-squeaks before rolling off the bed. She catches herself, barely managing to land on her feet, and stumbles towards her door. Pulling it open, she gasps, “You didn’t have to come all the way here!”
She’s already moving aside, though, waving them into her room. They didn’t have to come, and she didn’t mean to interrupt their day, but…it’s good to see them. She feels warm, knowing they did interrupt their day and come here for her sake. Nat unzips her boots, kicks them off at last, and crawls back onto her bed, curling up around a big pillow. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” she repeats, quieter.
Ryan follows Nat into her room, and watches as she curls up around one of her pillows. They kick off their own shoes, realize their arms are still gauntleted, and dismiss them back into bracelets with a shrug, and perch themself on the edge of the bed. 
“Of course I had to come,” they say, after a minute. “If I sent you a text asking if I was a bad friend to--Merlin, or Kurt, without any other context, you’d be in Madagascar in seconds. Nat, what--” they pause, trying to figure out the best way to ask the question they want to ask. “What happened?” They settle on. “I don’t think you’d just up and ask me that out of nowhere. And, also, for the record: no. I don’t think you’re a bad friend to Violet.” 
Nat looks up at Ryan, face still half-hidden in the pillow. Her eyes are huge and watery. “Aubrieta came back, and she was…trying to take Violet’s life over again. And she let Lachesis and Clotho out of stasis, so we had to go…fight them again? To get them back under control. And Violet had to…to beat Clotho…” Nat trails off and swallows hard. “She had to get Lachesis to tell me the command codes. And I had to use them, or she’d’ve killed her. And she just…keeled over. I thought - I…” Nat’s voice breaks a little. Clears her throat. Continues, “At the hospital, later, we were talking. And she wants to…stop. Being violent. And be, I don’t know, a medic or something. But she told me - she said, ‘I can’t be a weapon anymore.’ She said, ‘I can’t be your weapon anymore.’ To me. After she - I didn’t even know it was a command code, she just told me to repeat whatever Lachesis said, and - obviously, it was going to be, with the situation. But it was so fast, and, I didn’t know, but-!”
Another several deep breaths with Nat’s face fully buried in the pillow again. When she speaks again, it’s muffled into the pillow. “She’s gotta know. About me, and…and how I feel. Everyone knows, no matter how hard I try to…not. And she said that to me. And I just…she’s right, isn’t she? I’m constantly - I spent a whole mission trying to get her to dance with me, even though she was just trying to stay focused. I’ve been so - the way I’ve treated her…” Nat trails off again, apparently actually done this time.
Ryan is so, so glad they came to talk about this in person. This is so much worse than they had expected, for everyone involved; they can’t imagine the nightmare that the day has been, so far, for Nat and Violet and, doubtless, Carmen, for where one of them goes the other two are always close behind. And then, for things to escalate to the point where Violet would tell Nat to use the command phrase--
“Nat, can I give you a hug?” They ask, shifting to make that possible. “Like--there’s a lot there, and we’re definitely--there’s a lot there. But it sounds like today was nightmarish for all of you, and--and you really seem like you could use a hug right now.” 
Nat is pressing herself into Ryan almost before they’re finished talking. This close, she can feel herself trembling against them. She’s not quite crying, but this is almost worse; her emotional state is so all over the place that her body isn’t sure what to do with it. Using the command phrase was something Nat promised she would never do, even if she learned it. Even if Violet was the one who made sure the promise got broken, Nat feels abysmal to have let it.
Ryan wraps their arms around Nat, doing their best to make the hug comforting, and holds her close while piecing through what they can say. There’s--this is about more than just today, they’re sure. But perhaps best to get some of the day’s horrors out into the open before touching on the deeper problem here. 
“Nat--first of all, the command code, using that on her, that wasn’t--that’s not your fault. From what you said, and from--I know you. I know Violet, not as well as I know you, but I do know Violet. In a horrible situation someone you trusted told you to do something and you did it. And I wish that you hadn’t had to, and that Violet hadn’t been in the position where she had to make the choice to tell you to. But given that you were in that situation, Violet asked you to, and you did it because she asked you to, and that is not--if that’s part of what you’re worried about, that isn’t treating Violet like an object. That’s Violet choosing to give you those codes because she trusts you, and you listening to her about when to use them because you are worthy of that trust. I wasn’t at that hospital conversation--and I don’t know what was happening in Violet’s head, or why she said that. But as far as I can tell, if anyone made Violet your weapon at any point in time, it was Violet choosing to fight for you.” 
They let out a sigh. “But given that this isn’t just about that and has been bothering you a lot longer…okay. I’m going to admit something. I don’t really understand the--foundations, I guess, of what you’re saying here, and I would like to understand where you’re coming from on this. Why do you say you treat Violet like an object?” 
From all that Ryan’s seen, Nat has treated Violet like…well, like a friend, like a crush, with--in all honesty--more care and trepidation than most of her other friends. Constantly aware of Violet’s background, constantly checking herself for fear of coming on too strong. 
“I don’t want her to fight for me,” Nat mumbles into Ryan’s shoulder. “I just - she, she has so much on her plate all the time. And, a long time ago, she said something to me about how I can’t just decide things and make them true. In the context of us being friends. And. I didn’t stop. And I kept…nagging at her to dance with me, or watch a movie with me, or…” She shakes her head, face still pressed into Ryan. “I never stopped. I’m still like that. And a real friend would just, be happy for her, with whoever she wants to be. Or at least have the decency to…to hate the things the Crimson Circle made her into. But I just - I just sit there and want things from her. All the time. And everyone can see it.”
Abruptly, Nat pulls back a bit, her face bright red and horrorstruck. “Oh, God, Ryan, she can always see what I do before I do it - she must have seen, like, things I almost did, or thought about doing, and-!” She burrows back into the hug, almost like she’s trying to physically fuse with Ryan. “Kill me,” she mumbles, knowing she’s now just dumping barely-related information into Ryan’s lap and hoping for the best. Like for Ryan to put her out of her misery.
“Okay, no,” Ryan said, patting Nat’s shoulder with the arm not entirely wrapped around her. “That’s not--that’s not how that works. I’m not going to get into technicalities, but--fate-sight does not let you see things like impulses someone almost took but didn’t, or things they thought about doing. That’s not fate. What you’re thinking of would be someone with a form of mind-reading, and there is a real difference. And--listen. Answer this for me: if Violet gave you a hard no as an answer to something--to a movie, or a dance--would you keep pushing for it?” 
“Of course not,” Nat says miserably, “but it’s not like she’s always been, you know, comfortable giving a hard no. Especially at the beginning, she’d just…go along with stuff. And it’s not like I didn’t know that.”
She does relax a little when Ryan clarifies that fate-sight wouldn’t have shown Violet anything Nat didn’t actually do. People have tried to explain the differences between fate-sight and time magic and time science to Nat, but she just can’t wrap her head around it. Ryan definitely can, though, and if they say fate-sight doesn’t work that way, then Nat believes them. 
“Well, if you knew that, and you tried to be aware of it in your dealings with Violet, that’s about the best anyone could do,” Ryan says, which they think is reasonable. They’re glad that Nat had relaxed, a little, and arrange the pair of them so Ryan can lean back against the headboard of the bed while still being hugged. 
“You also don’t have the ability to read minds and always be aware of when Violet is just going along with something and when she wanted to do it and expecting yourself to be able to is--well, that’s setting yourself up for failure. And she has gotten better at giving a hard no, which you recognize as a good thing--which is another way you’re not treating her like an object or using her. In my experience, people who are using other people don’t recognize their increasing sense of their own autonomy as a positive.” 
Nat resituates with Ryan easily, arranging herself so they’re both comfortable while she can still hide her face in Ryan’s shirt. She grumbles a little, wanting to argue with them but unable to think of a counterpoint besides yeah, but, I said so. After a moment, she mutters, “Okay, sure. So I’m not a mind reader. That still doesn’t mean I’m not, y’know. Objectifying her.” Nat bites her lip, face burning; she really would rather not have this part of the conversation, but if she doesn’t at least acknowledge it, she knows it’ll just keep eating at her. 
Oh boy, there it is. Ryan bites back a sigh--Nat doesn’t need that right now--and tries to sort through that. It’s not that Nat being attracted to Violet is news. At all. In any way. But it being mentioned, here, means that it’s tied up in all of this in a way that they really don’t like for anyone involved. 
“Nat,” they said, trying to keep their voice quiet and relatively calm. “Do you think you’re a bad friend to Violet because you think she’s hot?” 
Loud, expressive, vibrant Nat goes abruptly still and silent in a deer-in-the-headlights kind of way that could not be more of a giveaway if she was consciously trying. After a pause that feels way too long, she tries to hit the eject button. “....No?” she mumbles, knowing full well Ryan won’t buy it. 
“That’s…not very convincing, Nat,” They say, wincing. “Because from everything you’ve said, it sounds like you feel like you’re a bad friend to Violet and treat her like a thing because you think she’s attractive despite her having gone through physical changes against her will, and because you want to go to movies with her and dance with her and want to spend time with her and you’re worried she can’t or won’t say no to you, and that by wanting something she might not want, you’re a bad person and not a “real friend.” Is that about the state of things?” 
More dead silence while Nat squirms, both literally and figuratively. “Also the command code thing,” she mumbles at last, barely intelligible. 
“The command code thing, which was Violet’s choice to give you in a drastic situation that, in a fair world, neither of you would have been in, we’ve been over that one,” Ryan says, still rubbing Nat’s back. “Which isn’t to say your feelings are wrong about hating having to do it, but you listening to Violet when she tells you to do something is not, in fact, you treating her like an object.” 
They let out a breath, because this next part is going to be the harder part to actually get into Nat’s head. “And neither is finding her attractive, or wanting things from her that you’re not sure she wants as well. That’s just…being a person. Liking someone. Thinking they’re hot. It’s not like you went to the Crimson Circle and told them to build your dream girl, or that you ever would, because you wouldn’t. That would be predatory, and objectifying her.” They hurry on before Nat can interject. 
“What you have done is encountered someone who went through some shit, which sucks--which you understand sucks and have actively taken action to stop from happening ever again--and, taking her as she is right now, found her attractive, discovered you really like her both as a friend and romantically, and wanted to do things with her because she is your friend and you are smitten. Which is normal, and does not make you a bad person.” 
Nat makes a sad little teakettle noise. She thought her face was burning before; now, she’ll be shocked if Ryan can’t physically feel the heat of her face. “Dream girl? Smitten?” she whines. “You’re making me sound like…like some kind of cheesy book character from the regency era or something! I’m just…projecting. Wishful thinking? The point is, I wouldn’t feel so bad about it if she didn’t actively hate what they did to her. She was talking to me once about feeling like a monster, and I had nothing helpful to say. How can I possibly say I’m supporting her when every time she tries to open up about her self-image I’m basically just sitting there drooling like some kind of gross dude in a sexist movie?”
Ryan moves back just enough that they hope Nat can see their skeptical raised eyebrow. “First of all, I don’t think you’re acting like a gross dude in a sexist movie, for a number of reasons but mostly because you give a shit about what Violet likes and dislikes and cares about, which has not been my experience with gross dudes objectifying people. I think you’re jumping to the worst possible example of someone being attracted to someone else and assuming that’s what you’re like, and that’s not really fair to you.” 
They consider what to say next, because just because they don’t think what Nat’s saying makes sense doesn’t mean it’s not important, or serious, or hurting her. “And I think it’s normal to feel horrible about not knowing what to say when someone opens up to you about something bad, or to feel a little guilty that you like something about someone when you know they don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean it’s--unwelcome. Or makes you a bad person.” 
They let out a half-laugh, realizing where some of this advice was coming from. “Then again, I’m probably biased, my relationship literally started when someone told me that the feature of mine I hated the most was cool and useful, actually, and I was being stupid about it. Not that I advise that as a flirting option, at least not in those terms. I’m weird.” 
“Still--if Violet never got in another fight, if she did her best to get a body she liked back, I--tell me if I’m wrong, here, but I’m pretty sure you would wholeheartedly support her, call your mom to help figure out how that could be done in a healthy way, and glare anyone who tried to tell her not to into compliance, right?” 
“Glare is putting it mildly,” Nat says, still mumbling. She has not picked up her head, preferring to keep her face hidden for this entire conversation. “And...why wouldn’t it be unwelcome? Every time Violet looks in a mirror is a reminder of what they did to her. I can’t imagine she’d…I mean, what would she think of someone who would like those things about her? It’s not like you can separate the results from the process.”
Nat swallows, especially ashamed of this next part. “And. If she wanted to find a way to get her body back to how it used to be. I’d help, of course, but…I don’t know how I’d feel? If I would be less…gross about her. And that’s worse, somehow, because, like, it’s shallow and it’s liking a constant reminder of the Circle!” Another sad teakettle noise. “There’s no good option, except maybe moving to Antarctica and becoming a polar bear.”
“Antarctica doesn’t have those, you’d wreck the local food chain as an invasive species,” Ryan points out, shifting to lean a little back against Nat, sharing their joint weight between the pair of them. 
“And--first of all, Nat, you’re not being gross about her, that’s--being attracted to someone is not in and of itself gross, right? You know this, right?” Their voice is a little plaintive. “Looking at Violet and thinking that she’s hot means that you’re a lesbian, not that you’re gross. Also, being attracted to tough girls who are very good at fighting and are kind of the girl version of edgy YA love interests,” Ryan loves Violet and Carmen, but they’re right, ”isn’t being shallow, it’s having a type. I’m attracted mostly to extremely powerful wizards who are also extremely bitchy--also not being shallow, having a type, and it doesn’t mean that I, I dunno, love Merlin any less because he happens to also be the kind of person I’m attracted to. Because that would not make sense at all.”  
They let out a sigh, trying to figure out how to tackle the next point. “And you’re right, I can’t automatically assume she wouldn’t be against it. While I know her background, and I’ve had experiences that I can use to help me try to relate to her, I’m not her, and I don’t know how she’d respond, and it’s presumptuous of me to assume I do, even with the best intentions.” They pause, not sure how Nat will take this. “But the same goes for you, you know. You know her very well, but--again--you’re not a mind reader. You’re hiding this from her and not giving her a chance to respond at all because you’re scared it will hurt her, but that also means you’re not giving her a chance to, you know, respond for herself, and not just what you think she will do.” 
They let out a sigh. “Wait, shit, that came out--I’m not saying you morally have to tell her that you like her. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just--I want you to think about that, a little, because it’s good that you want to protect her, but--maybe think about the assumption you have that she needs to and wants to be protected from you.” 
As Ryan talks, Nat’s plaintive whines pitch up from “teakettle” to “frequency only detectable to dogs” and all the way into “sensed exclusively by the greater wax moth.” The noise sounds less like an actual request for Ryan to stop talking, and much more like a general complaint about the state of Nat’s life.
“What do you mean I have a type? Don’t answer that,” she groans. “And - I’m her best friend. It’s not like I don’t know she cares about me. Of course I don’t want to put her in an awkward situation she doesn’t know how to handle. She doesn’t even like girls, Ryan! ‘Don’t start crushing on your straight best friend’ is literally rule one in the lesbian handbook and I’ve managed to fuck it up.” She huffs. “I hate this.”
“I mean you have a type,” Ryan says unhelpfully, because they need something to distract them from the fact that…oh dear. Ryan isn’t sure Violet’s not straight, to be fair. It’s just that when someone looks at an evil future adult version of their best friend and calls her, unprompted, “MILFdenza,” there are some inferences that could be made. But there is no planet on which Ryan is telling that to Nat right now. It wouldn’t be fair to Violet, who Ryan suspects isn’t quite sure of herself in this area either, and would be a breach of at least implied confidence, and also it would almost certainly break Nat.
“I mean, I haven’t seen any indication that she likes boys, either,” Ryan says, instead of that. “Inconclusive evidence all around on that front, and she also didn’t realize you were a lesbian for, well, a very long time, so I’m not even sure she’s thought about it for herself.” They pause. “And even if she is straight, or just not interested entirely, that doesn’t make you bad for having a crush on her while being her friend. It doesn’t like--make the friendship less, or make you a bad friend for her.” 
They let out a sigh and tighten the hug a little bit more. “It does absolutely suck, though, I’ll give you that. Incompatible orientation crushes--if this one is, which again, inconclusive evidence--are the worst.” 
“Believe me, I know,” Nat grouses. “Middle school fucking sucks. And I told you not to answer that.” After a moment, her voice gets quieter again. “She crashed a car into a lamp post when she found out I was gay and dating Carmen. I have no idea what that means. Like, if it’s a bad sign or whatever. And if she hasn’t given any indication she’s got any idea where she’s at about this stuff, that’s even more reason for me to knock it off. I feel like I’m, fuckin’, biding my time like some creep, waiting for her to figure herself out.” Not that I can help it, Nat doesn’t add. She’s been into Violet literally since they met; if the issue was going to solve itself, it probably would have by now. 
“I just…this is all so messy. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t think anyone knows what the right thing to do is. And I can’t even just keep it to myself because every time I’m around her I’m apparently just broadcasting how I feel nonstop, because again, literally everybody knows.” She shakes her head, rubbing her watery eyes against Ryan’s shirt. “That’s the worst part, sometimes. That I’m so obvious and I can’t figure out how to stop.”
“I’m not going to argue you’re not obvious,” Ryan says, because there’s no way to argue that in good faith. “But I don’t think being in love with someone, or having a crush on them, or being attracted to them is a bad thing, if you’re also respectful of their boundaries and aren’t pushing them into something they don’t want. Which you’ve been very careful about--which you just told me you were being careful about, and then attempted to describe as “creepy.”” They sigh. “Nat, please tell me you know that waiting respectfully for your friend to come to her own conclusions about her identity in her own time isn’t being creepy. Because that’s kind of textbook being a considerate person.” 
They pause, still patting Nat’s back a little awkwardly, as they try to figure out a way to articulate where they’re going with this. “I just--I feel like you’re blaming yourself for things you can’t control. Again. You can’t control your feelings for Violet, and they are obvious, and they’re not bad. You can control what you do with them, and so far what you have described to me, and what I’ve seen from you, is that you’re so careful about risking Violet’s autonomy that even when she directly asked you to, you’re sitting here beating yourself up about it. You are extremely aware of the fact that she has her own life and might want things different from what you want, to the point of--if anything--overcorrecting and trying to protect her from you.” They hold up a hand, although Nat’s not really looking at it, and start ticking items off on their fingers.
“What you have used your feelings for Violet to help do is obliterate multiple Crimson Circle bases in the city. It’s fiercely guarding the parts of Violet’s life that she’s gotten back from the Circle or anything else that would try to diminish them. It’s sticking with her as a friend and making sure she has the option to do things like movie nights or dances with people, and isn’t writing them off as impossible for her because of her experiences. You’re a good friend, Nat, and you’re a good friend to Violet. And your feelings don’t make that any less important.” 
Nat lets that one sit for a minute. She feels…kind of achey, emotionally, and hollowed-out, like the spot left behind when you pull a tooth. Ryan’s steady breathing and the rhythm of their hand on her back are soothing, and she almost feels like she could fall asleep. She guesses this is catharsis.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, not quite able to put the feeling into words. “I…don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear some of that. It sounds really obvious when you say it out like that, but when it’s in your head, it’s harder to see it. Like, I had this image in my head, of some creep podcast bro or whatever talking about some celebrity? And it wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking of the ways that situation’s different.” 
She turns her face to the side a bit, sighing. “I’m really glad you came here in person. You didn’t have to - hush, don’t say you did,” she interrupts herself before Ryan can, holding up one finger. “You didn’t, you could have just called me or texted me or whatever. But I’m glad you’re here.” She worms her arms, which had been held close to her own chest, around Ryan’s ribcage and gives them a squeeze.
Ryan had opened their mouth to protest, but shuts it sheepishly. 
“Well…I’m glad I came here too, and thanks for--well, I’m glad that you know you can talk to me with this stuff. What are friends for?” They would shrug, but that would displace Nat, so instead they just squeeze her a little harder as she hugs them. “And this stuff is always worse in your head, because it’s a lot harder to tell what doesn’t make sense when it’s all just. In there. I’m glad I could help.”
They pause, for a moment. “Do you want me to stick around? We could just hang out, or grab food or something, or watch something--either actually watch it or put it on to make fun of. Or, if you wanna be alone, that’s good too. Your choice, because I think that’s about enough heavy conversation for you for the moment.” 
Nat shakes her head. “I’d like the company. I…well. I would say I don’t want to eat up the rest of your day, but every time I tell you I don’t wanna take up all your time you remind me that you have time powers. Point stands, though, if you have something you’re looking forward to I don’t wanna hold you up.”
“To tell the truth,” Ryan admits. “I’m expected at my mom’s in thirteen minutes ago. But I have dinner there all the time, and so I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it more than hanging out with you, and I’m in no rush to get there--I’d rather hang out with you for a little bit, and go to mom’s later. Later for me. You know what I mean.” 
In fact, if they concentrate, they can feel the slight folding of time as a future version of them takes up the same space in the timeline as they do, but the sensation is a little dizzying so they stop. “So: hanging out? Dumb movies? Further deep conversation about our love lives?” The last one is said in a clearly-joking tone. “Your call.” 
Nat sits up, wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, and smiles at them. “Are you offering gossip about you and Merlin? Because I won’t stop you. Lord knows you’ve had to hear enough about my feelings today.”
“I’m not sure there is gossip to be had about me and Merlin,” Ryan attempts, knowing even as they say it that Nat will not believe them. But, on the other hand, it’s not like they actually mind talking about their boyfriend, and Nat--for all her teasing--is one of their best friends for a reason. “But…alright. What do you want to know?”