Heartbreak is a fickle thing. Individualistic, too, by nature.

It's never like the movies, though it still finds a way to be loud and unapologetic. It's screaming matches in a friend's driveway, cursed love confessions overshadowed by the words never said - the most poetic sight, the most painful experience. It's memories of late night phone calls where soft jokes are exchanged and midnight baking plans are made, oblivious to the impending doom at the time. It's lonely weeks spent wrapped in your own blankets with best friends who, try as they might, will never soothe the ache. It's the acceptance that it was you, not him. Some might say that most of the time, possibly ninety percent of the time, it's like movies. But it's not. This is not an exceptional ten percent. This is only heartbreak, in all its fickle and individualistic glory.

And Willow Jenkins feels it, the full and unapologetic glory of it all, in this moment. She can feel it in her bones, in her misery. It carries with her as she lets her legs carry her quickly from the school parking lot, across the campus to the football field, until she's reached the edge of the forest.

She's retracing the same path she'd taken four months ago for the first time. It's now littered with broken branches and dried leaves, the trees more barren than when she had last visited. She isn't even sure how she remembers the path in this new November light, but her legs do. She lets them carry her mindlessly, through the sleeping shrubbery and gray landscape, until they reach their final destination: the picnic table.

The pain is still there as she reaches the center of the clearing and rakes her palm over the splintered wood. Her knuckles are throbbing, her lungs are begging for a break, and her head is swimming. But that's not the pain that is overtaking her; the pain that has her in a viper grip is the one in her chest. The one that still demands to be felt. The one that remains quiet and miserable. The pain she used to firmly believe she knew all too well.

She's quickly realizing that there is no way for anyone to become familiar with heartbreak. It isn't the type of ache to get to know like an old friend - it's the type of ache that is ever-changing, that simply cannot stay the same. If heartbreak was something you could get used to, there wouldn't be so many poems, so many movies, so many songs. If it was something anyone could get used to, there wouldn't be so many different ways to write it or describe it.

Willow can feel the autumn air nipping at the tear streaks still lining her cheeks, but she knows her eyes have finally dried. Seeing Eddie again should have her sobbing, screaming, bargaining. But it doesn't. It increases the ache in her chest, convinces her that maybe this isn't heartbreak and instead a broken rib, but her tear ducts remain resilient as she takes a seat at the wooden table.

She can still picture him clearly. The way he had looked the first day they'd met up here, the day they'd agreed to the deal. The day that Willow had sealed their fate in misery, it seems.

"Willow?"

For a second, she convinces herself it'll be him. But she already knew who the voice belonged to, long before Robin emerged from the treeline and into the clearing. The daydream dies long before it has the chance to breathe.

"Here," she calls back softly just as Robin's eyes land on her, putting up a limp hand. It feels reminiscent of the days when a teacher would take roll call in a class.

Class . She still has to see Eddie in their classes come Monday, after the spectacle she'd just made of herself.

Christ, I'm a fucking idiot.

"Hey," Robin breathes in relief, forcing a worried smile in her direction as she takes the tentative steps up to the table, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Not really. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Wow. You and Steve really know how to cheer a girl up," Willow mutters sarcastically, weakly glaring at Robin.

All she does is shrug in return, "It's not about cheering you up, not right now. It's about making sure you're okay. Which, like I said - you don't look like you are."

Willow isn't sure how to respond to that, because she knew that Robin was right. Instead, she spreads out her palm atop of the table, flexing her knuckles in a way that makes her wince from the pain radiating up her wrist. Robin is immediately sitting herself across from Willow, a similar scene to when she and Eddie were here, and takes her hand into hers. Robin lets her thumb hover over the black and blue knuckles.

They just sit in silence. There was no use in Willow insisting upon her lie of being fine, and Robin knows better than to push it. They don't have to talk about it quite yet; for now, the two friends could simply be there, comforting one another and letting Mother Nature do the talking.

Willow takes in the forest. Winter has begun to tangle itself into the atmosphere, even though its arrival was still a month away. The towering trees are no longer wrapped in ivy and all the bursts of wildflowers have withered. The only thing that has stayed the same in the four months passing is the oak tree in the center - it's still large, it's still sturdy. It remains a constant at the core of the clearing. It still clings to the wooden picnic table, it still provides what little shade its barren branches can offer.

At its heart, this clearing is still the same.

"Don't think I've ever seen someone appreciate this place," Willow can recall Eddie saying the first time they came here. It forces a smile out of her that is too strong to be withheld, even with the all-consuming ache she currently battles.

"What are you smiling about?" Robin questions, letting go of Willow's hand, narrowing her eyes at her. When Willow's response is a lame shrug, the smile only growing, Robin's face dawns with gentle realization, "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

There's no point in denying it, "How'd you know?"

"Because you get this look when you think about him. It's grossly adorable."

"Oh?" Willow questions, twitching her eyebrows in an attempt to quirk them, "And what would that look be?"

"It's hard to explain," Robin scrunches her nose, retracting her hands from Willow's in order to wave them around herself for emphasis, "But it's just so mushy and soft. It's a good thing, though, I promise."

Willow laughs humorlessly, "I don't see how that's a good thing considering how I screwed it all up. I kissed Steve, Robs, and he saw."

It's sudden news to Robin, clearly. She freezes entirely, "You... You what ?"

Willow spills her guts. She's word-vomiting every single event of the night, the way that Steve now knows and the way he thinks she should tell Eddie the truth. The way Eddie saw and the fight that followed.

The fact that Eddie Munson was in love with her, and she let him walk away.

"Jesus, 'Low," Robin breathes out once Willow has finally faded into silence.

She feels like she just ran a marathon, her entire body consumed with the heartache all over again as her chest burns for deeper breaths. But they remain shallow as she says, "Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I knew the two of you weren't faking but... This? This is just..." Robin cuts herself off with a low whistle, "This is a mess."

Willow nods once more, a silent signaling that yes , she knows it's a mess. "I think I took you too literally when you mentioned just fake-dating until it was real. All the way to a definitely-not-fake breakup."

Robin laughs at that. Really, she seems far less upset with Willow than the girl had expected. She'd expected a grand scolding, for Robin to rip her a new one. She'd been prepared for name-calling along the lines of being an idiot , being a dingus . She'd anticipated a soliloquy from Robin on all the reasons she had been right and Willow had been wrong. A speech to belittle all speeches. The most grandiose version of told you so that this Universe had ever seen.

Or, at the very least, a slap on the wrist.

She didn't expect easy laughter or any joking at all.

"Robs," Willow whispers, finally looking at her best friend and stopping the nervous picking at her nails, "Why aren't you pissed?"

"What?" Robin scoffs, giving Willow a confused look, "Why would I be pissed?"

"Because I'm an idiot. A certifiable dingus. The dumbest of all the land. I don't know."

"You've been hanging out with the nerds too much with that last one," Robin points out in a teasing tone before she continues, "But to answer your question? I don't think you need me to be pissed at you. I think you're beating yourself up enough. I mean, c'mon, I think you broke your knuckles against Carver's face just to punish yourself."

Willow winces as Robin traces a careful finger over the bruises forming, "I didn't punch him to punish myself. I punched him because he deserved it."

Robin immediately agrees, "He did."

"And not just because he hit Eddie," Willow continues on, "I mean, obviously, I still would have done something. But... He hit Henderson. He punched Dustin. Dustin, who's just some...." she trails off. With her anger finally leaving her, she can't quite find the words she's looking for, "He's just a kid, you know? Some innocent freshman. So what if he's a little dorky? They really give those kids Hell for playing a fantasy game, which is actually fun once you give it a chance. Jason Carver deserved that punch for a really long time."

"You should have seen him after Eddie had gotten to him. Dude had pig face imprints across each cheek. I think he'll be seeing crosses for the next month," Robin looks into Willow's eyes with a smile, "I think that's why you two are good for each other, though, you know? You both fight for the people you love. You're both idiots."

Willow's matching smile quickly fades at Robin's words, "Were."

"What?"

"We were good for each other. And now-"

"You still are, 'Low. Do you really think one stupid fight and misunderstanding is going to ruin all of this ?" Robin waves her arms around as if signaling to all the words that Willow had just poured out of her soul.

"You make it all sound so small," Willow sighs. Both her and Steve made it out to be something that was simple, an easy fix.

Could it be easy?

"Can I be honest here? That's because it is. In the grand scheme of you two, of you and of Eddie, it is small," Robin stands and moves to sit beside Willow, facing the woods. Willow spins in her seat to stare out at the sea of barren trees, "I know you liked Steve. A lot. But ever since you met Eddie, it was just obvious . Like I said, it's in the way you always looked at him, 'Low. It's kind of gross ," Robin pauses to crinkle her nose jokingly, "But you've always had that look in your eyes when he was around. He always held your attention, and you always laughed hardest at his jokes. Seriously, it was like you always thought he was the funniest guy, funniest person , in every goddamn room. Sometimes I wonder if you generally believe the dude hung the stars or something, because you just... you look at him.... You look at him like-"

Willow has heard this speech before, the sense of deja-vu dizzying. She knows how that sentence ends, so she says it for Robin, "Like he's my favorite boy in the whole wide world ."

Eddie's words at the first time they went to Denny's, when he was rambling on about how Willow was so clearly in love with Steve.

"I'm serious. You look at Harrington like he can do no wrong. Even when he's being an absolute asshole. Like he painted the night sky just for you, like he's the funniest person in every room. It's sickening, Red. Makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it."

She hadn't known then that the look he was describing would belong to him one day. That one day, she wouldn't just look at Eddie like how he believed she looked at Steve - she would believe all those things about him, as well.

Eddie was the funniest person in every room, and she honestly thinks she prefers his artwork for his campaigns more than the night sky. She would defend him until her dying breath, and not because Eddie could 'do no wrong', but because she knew he would always make it right.

But it was so much more than those trivial things. It wasn't just that he was funny - he was also kind and comforting. One look from him could soothe her more than her favorite childhood blanket. He was unbelievably brilliant in her eyes, a mind full of wonder and such intricate tales that it always stole her breath. She loved him because he was her favorite person, and he was her favorite person because he was him . He was annoying, he was persuasive, he was protective, he was endearing, he was loveable, he was... Eddie Munson. Simply put, he was Eddie Munson, the boy she was in love with.

"Exactly!" Robin claps, grin widening, "You look at him like he's your favorite boy in the whole wide world, and you always have."

Willow's face is no longer twisted in misery. It's smoothed out, turned terribly gentle with each breath that passes her lips. All she can see is his honey eyes, hear his soothing voice, feel his tender touch.

For the first time, she says the words out loud.

"Because he is. Because I'm in love with him."

It's not a new development for Willow, but it is for Robin. The trees that once offered privacy to Willow and Eddie now drink in her secret, letting it seep into their roots as the cool Autumn breeze begins to pick up.

"Shit," Robin finally laughs, sounding nervous, "Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be. I had a whole speech prepared to convince you."

"I already knew, Robs," Willow sniffles, throwing her head back and closing her eyes, focusing on the sound of ruffling leaves rather than her own heart in her throat.

"Hold on... You knew you love him, and you still didn't tell him?" Robin gasps, standing quickly, "I take it back. You do need my tough love, you fucking idiot."

Willow's eyes pop open, "Hey, you said you were going to be nice to me."

"I lied. What the fuck , Willow!"

"He didn't let me speak!"

"You could have screamed over him! You've done it to me plenty of times!"

"I-"

Robin paces, putting a hand up to silence Willow, "Nope. You know what? Every time I think you two idiots couldn't get dumber, you do."

"Rude," Willow scowls, twisting her face ever so slightly.

She suddenly wishes Eddie was here, at her side, enduring part of this scolding. But he wasn't. If he was, maybe Robin wouldn't be giving the lecture.

"Damn right I'm being rude . Clearly, taking the nice path with you two doesn't work."

"Since when did you take the nice path with Eddie ?" Willow scoffs, not meaning much of the comment, but when Robin's face completely falls and she begins to pale, she starts to worry, "Oh my God, Robin. What did you say to him?"

"It was nothing!" Robin defends herself, "You're just changing the subject!"

"You're the one who brought it up!" Willow bites right back, "What the hell did you say to Eddie? Does he know I like him?"

"Do you really think if he knew that we'd be in this situation?" Robin snaps, no true ill-intent behind her words but her tone is still sharper than a knife. She can already see Willow's freak out impending and softens, "I'm sorry. I... I'm actually being mean right now."

"No, no. You were right. I deserve it, I need to hear it," Willow brushes it off, right along with the clenching of her heart.

She sort of wishes that Robin had told Eddie the truth.

"'Low, I swear, I didn't say anything about your feelings. It was the night when we had dinner with your mom, and I was just poking fun about how I thought he genuinely liked you, and he admitted it-"

"You knew he liked me?" Willow asks softly. She's not particularly mad, and she's not particularly sad. But the knowledge leaves her hollow in an odd way.

Robin knew that Steve had liked her, and now Robin had known that Eddie liked her.

Willow was always left the oblivious fool, her own doing, until it was too late. Until she had already set fire to the things she loved.

"I'm sorry," Robin sighs, stopping in front of Willow and fiddling with her hands, "I- Honestly, I could stand here and make excuses, but there is none. I've done it to you twice now," She can see the genuine regret in Robin's eyes, "But I really thought he was going to do something about it. It wasn't like with Steve, who had bullshit excuses. The only thing ever stopping him was Steve and the deal, Willow."

The only thing stopping him was Steve and the deal .

"And now, neither is an issue," Willow thinks out loud, "The deal is off and I rejected Steve."

"Exactly," Robin agrees, watching Willow closely, seeing the gears in her mind turning.

The only thing stopping him was Steve and the deal.

So what was stopping her?

"We need to go back to the parking lot," Willow suddenly insists, standing up abruptly and making Robin jump, "We've gotta go back. I need to talk to Eddie."

Robin's frightened expression fades, a grin slowly appearing to take its place, "That's my girl."

They sprint back to the parking lot. It's embarrassing, but it's true. Willow could care less if she's breathless when she gets to Eddie, if she's a sweaty, red-faced mess who can't get a single syllable out. She just needs to get to him. She'll figure out the rest and compose herself once he's by her side.

Robin matches Willow's pace out of excitement. When that final gear had clicked on Willow's face, she knew her friend wasn't going to avoid the problem anymore.

This entire mess was finally going to be solved, and they all could move on.

Or, at least, that's what the girls believed before they arrived at the parking lot.

That entire belief is shattered once Willow recognizes the spot that Eddie's van had been parked in empty. He's gone, and in the van's place is their group of friends, all gathered in a circle.

"Where's Eddie?" is the first thing that Willow gasps out as she nearly collides into the back of Steve.

Everyone looks at her curiously, not answering her until Robin catches up behind her and groans, "Oh my God. Please don't tell me the other idiot is missing now."

" Where is Eddie?" she stresses again, eyes flickering over the Hellfire boys. Her eyes land on Dustin, always-so-sweet Dustin Henderson, and he immediately offers a sad smile.

"He left. Carver was on the verge of starting more shit, and Higgins said he had to get off school property," he explains to her.

She can see the older boys of the club exchanging looks before Jeff pipes up, "Is what he said true? Did he really break up with you ?"

Willow can't answer. Because in short, the answer is yes. But it's so much more complicated than any of them know. How do you explain it wasn't a real breakup because it was never a real relationship?

It sure feels like a real breakup.