The Ascension

Chapter 18: Acceptance and Preparation

Ronnie sat in the back of her English class and stared at the whiteboard without seeing it.

Mrs. Henderson was talking about symbolism in The Catcher in the Rye.

Something about Holden's red hunting hat representing isolation.

Ronnie didn't care.

She'd read the book three times. She knew what the hat meant.

What she didn't know was how to stop her chest from aching every time she thought about Aaron.

About the way he'd looked at her this morning when he woke up tangled in her arms.

About the way he ran.

Ronnie took a slow breath.

Let it out.

This is fine.

She repeated it like a mantra.

This is fine. This is enough.

Having Aaron as her best friend—having him as her partner, having his promise that he'd always be there for her no matter what—that was enough.

It had to be.

Because the alternative was losing him completely.

And Ronnie couldn't survive that.

She'd survived her father's accident. She'd survived four years of secret hero work. She'd survived Mercer's blackmail and his brutal training sessions.

But losing Aaron?

That would break her.

So she made peace with it.

With the reality that Aaron would never see her the way she saw him.

That Katie would get the version of Aaron that smiled without hesitation, that laughed easily, that didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And Ronnie would get the version that needed her.

The version that depended on her to ground him when his senses overwhelmed him.

The version that trusted her with his life.

It wasn't what she wanted.

But it was better than nothing.

Ronnie's jaw tightened.

She forced herself to focus on the board.

On Mrs. Henderson's lecture.

On anything except the hollow ache in her chest that wouldn't go away.

This is fine.

This is enough.

This has to be enough.

The bell rang.

Ronnie gathered her things slowly, letting the other students file out first.

She didn't want to deal with the crowded hallways.

Didn't want to risk running into Aaron and Katie between classes.

Didn't want to see them together.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked into the hallway.

It was loud.

Too loud.

Students talking, laughing, slamming lockers, shouting across the corridor.

Ronnie kept her head down and walked toward her locker.

She was almost there when she heard it.

"—breaking news out of downtown Los Angeles—"

Ronnie stopped.

Turned.

A small crowd had gathered around the TV mounted on the wall near the main office.

The screen showed a news anchor with a serious expression, the words BREAKING NEWS flashing in red across the bottom.

Ronnie walked closer.

"—multiple reports of a robbery in progress at First National Bank on Seventh Street. Witnesses say the suspect is armed and extremely dangerous. Several superheroes have responded to the scene, including Atlas, Shockwave, and Ember—"

The camera cut to shaky footage from a bystander's phone.

The bank's front windows were shattered.

Smoke poured from the entrance.

And in the middle of the street, a figure in dark armor was fighting three heroes at once.

Ronnie's breath caught.

She recognized one of them immediately.

Atlas.

Aaron's father.

He was in full costume—dark blue and silver, the symbol of a mountain range across his chest—and he was flying.

Dodging blasts of energy from the armored villain.

Throwing cars out of the way to protect civilians.

Moving with the kind of speed and precision that came from decades of experience.

Ronnie stared at the screen.

This was real.

This wasn't a training simulation or a controlled exercise.

This was real.

People were in danger.

Heroes were fighting.

And soon—very soon—that would be her and Aaron.

"Holy s**t," someone next to her whispered.

Ronnie didn't respond.

She couldn't look away.

On the screen, Atlas grabbed the villain by the arm and threw him into the side of a building.

The impact shook the camera.

Dust and debris exploded outward.

The other two heroes—Shockwave and Ember—moved in immediately, coordinating their attacks.

It was brutal.

Fast.

Efficient.

And terrifying.

"Ronnie."

She turned.

Aaron was standing next to her, his eyes fixed on the screen.

His face was pale.

"That's your dad," Ronnie said quietly.

"Yeah," Aaron said.

They stood in silence, watching.

Atlas was coordinating the other heroes now, shouting orders that the camera couldn't pick up.

Shockwave hit the villain with a blast of kinetic energy.

Ember followed up with a wave of fire.

The villain staggered but didn't go down.

"Jesus," Aaron muttered. "How strong is that guy?"

"Strong enough to take three heroes at once," Ronnie said.

Aaron's jaw tightened.

On the screen, Atlas flew higher, positioning himself above the villain.

Then he dropped.

Straight down.

Fist-first.

The impact was like a bomb going off.

The street cracked.

The villain went down hard, slamming into the pavement with enough force to create a crater.

Atlas landed next to him, one hand on the villain's chest, pinning him in place.

The other two heroes moved in to restrain him.

The camera zoomed in on Atlas's face.

He looked calm.

Controlled.

Like this was just another Tuesday.

"That's going to be us," Aaron said quietly.

Ronnie looked at him.

His eyes were still on the screen, but his expression had changed.

He looked... scared.

Not of the fight.

Of what it meant.

"Yeah," Ronnie said. "It is."

Aaron swallowed hard. "Are we ready for that?"

Ronnie didn't answer right away.

She thought about the training sessions.

About the way she and Aaron moved together like they shared the same brain.

About the way he trusted her to ground him when his senses overwhelmed him.

About the way she could sense his heartbeat from across a room and know exactly what he was feeling.

They were good.

Better than good.

But were they ready?

"I don't know," Ronnie said honestly. "But we will be."

Aaron looked at her.

For a moment, their eyes met.

And Ronnie saw it again—that flicker of something she couldn't name.

Vulnerability.

Trust.

Need.

Then Aaron looked away.

"Yeah," he said. "We will be."

The news anchor came back on screen, talking about the villain being taken into custody.

The crowd around the TV started to disperse.

Aaron and Ronnie stood there for a moment longer.

Neither of them moved.

"That's going to be us," Aaron said again, quieter this time.

"I know," Ronnie said.

"Real danger. Real stakes."

"I know."

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. "What if I screw up? What if I can't control my strength and I hurt someone?"

"You won't," Ronnie said.

"You don't know that."

"I do," Ronnie said firmly. "Because I'll be there. And I won't let you."

Aaron looked at her again.

His expression softened.

"You really believe that?"

"Yes," Ronnie said.

And she meant it.

Because no matter what happened between them—no matter how much it hurt to watch him with Katie, no matter how much she wanted something she couldn't have—she would always be there for him.

That was the promise she'd made to herself.

And she would keep it.

Even if it killed her.

Aaron smiled.

It was small.

Tentative.

But real.

"Thanks, Ronnie."

"Don't thank me," Ronnie said. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Aaron laughed. "I'll try."

The bell rang.

Students started flooding the hallways again, rushing to their next class.

Aaron and Ronnie stood there for a moment longer.

Then Aaron shifted his bag on his shoulder. "I should get to class."

"Yeah," Ronnie said. "Me too."

They started walking in opposite directions.

Ronnie made it three steps before she heard it.

"—oh my God, did you hear about prom?"

Ronnie stopped.

Turned slightly.

Two girls were walking past, talking loudly enough for half the hallway to hear.

"The theme is Masquerade," one of them said. "How cool is that?"

"So cool," the other one said. "I already ordered my mask online."

"I'm going with Jake. Who are you going with?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe—"

Their voices faded as they walked away.

Ronnie stood there, frozen.

Prom.

She'd forgotten about prom.

It was in three weeks.

Three weeks.

Ronnie's chest tightened.

She turned and saw Aaron still standing a few feet away, watching her.

"Prom," he said.

"Yeah," Ronnie said.

They stared at each other.

Ronnie's heart was racing.

This was it.

This was her chance.

She could ask him.

Right now.

Just the two of them.

No Katie. No Peter. No distractions.

She could say it.

Do you want to go to prom with me?

Four words.

That's all it would take.

Ronnie opened her mouth.

"It would be fun to go," she said.

Aaron blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ronnie said. Her voice was steady. Calm. "We should go. Together."

Aaron's eyes widened slightly.

Ronnie's heart stopped.

Say yes. Please say yes. Please—

"Together?" Aaron repeated.

Ronnie panicked.

"As a group," she blurted out. "With Peter. The three of us. Like we always do."

Aaron's expression shifted.

Relief?

Disappointment?

Ronnie couldn't tell.

"Oh," Aaron said. "Yeah. That would be awesome."

Ronnie forced a smile. "Yeah. It would."

Aaron smiled back.

Then his smile faltered slightly.

"Do you think..." he started. "I mean, would it be okay if Katie came too?"

Ronnie's heart stopped.

Completely.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything except stare at Aaron and feel her chest crack open.

"Katie," she repeated.

"Yeah," Aaron said. He looked nervous. Uncertain. "I mean, if that's okay. I know it's supposed to be the three of us, but I thought—"

"Of course," Ronnie said.

Her voice didn't shake.

Didn't crack.

Didn't betray the fact that her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces.

"If you want her there, she should come."

Aaron's face lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Ronnie said. She forced her smile wider. "Of course. The more the merrier, right?"

"Thanks, Ronnie," Aaron said. "You're the best."

Ronnie nodded.

She didn't trust herself to speak.

Aaron shifted his bag again. "I should really get to class. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Ronnie managed. "See you later."

Aaron walked away.

Ronnie stood there, watching him go.

Her chest felt hollow.

Empty.

Like someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that mattered.

She'd done it.

She'd given him permission to bring Katie.

To the one event she'd been secretly hoping—praying—they could go to together.

Just the two of them.

And now Katie would be there.

Smiling. Laughing. Touching Aaron's arm. Dancing with him.

While Ronnie stood on the sidelines and pretended everything was fine.

This is fine.

This is enough.

This has to be enough.

Ronnie closed her eyes.

Took a slow breath.

Let it out.

Then she turned and walked to her next class.

One foot in front of the other.

Pretending her heart wasn't breaking.

Pretending she was fine.

Lunch was unbearable.

Ronnie sat at their usual table with Peter, picking at her food without eating.

Aaron was at Katie's table again.

In the center of the cafeteria.

Where everyone could see.

Katie was pressed against him, her hand on his arm, her head tilted toward his as she whispered something that made him laugh.

Ronnie looked away.

"You okay?" Peter asked.

"Fine," Ronnie said.

Peter didn't look convinced. "You've been staring at your salad for ten minutes."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry anymore."

Ronnie didn't respond.

Peter sighed. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Ronnie—"

"He asked if Katie could come to prom with us," Ronnie said quietly.

Peter's eyes widened. "He what?"

"We were talking about going as a group," Ronnie said. "The three of us. And he asked if Katie could come too."

"And you said?"

"I said yes."

Peter stared at her. "Why the hell would you say yes?"

"Because he wanted her there," Ronnie said. "And I'm not going to be the reason he can't bring the girl he likes to prom."

"Ronnie—"

"It's fine," Ronnie said.

"It's not fine," Peter said. "You're in love with him. You can't just—"

"I can," Ronnie said. "And I will. Because having him as my best friend is better than losing him completely."

Peter's expression softened. "Ronnie..."

"I'm fine, Peter," Ronnie said. "Really. I've made peace with it."

Peter didn't look like he believed her.

But he didn't push.

Across the cafeteria, Aaron laughed at something Katie said.

The sound carried over the noise.

Bright. Happy. Unguarded.

Ronnie's chest tightened.

She looked down at her salad.

Forced herself to take a bite.

It tasted like nothing.

Peter watched her with sad eyes.

"You can't keep doing this," he said quietly.

"Doing what?"

"Pretending," Peter said. "Sacrificing. Putting him first when he doesn't even see what he's doing to you."

"He's not doing anything to me," Ronnie said. "He's just... living his life. Being happy. I'm not going to take that away from him."

"Even if it destroys you?"

Ronnie didn't answer.

Because the truth was, she didn't know.

She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

Watching Aaron with Katie.

Pretending she was fine.

Accepting the scraps of his attention when Katie wasn't around.

But she didn't have a choice.

Because the alternative—telling Aaron how she felt and watching him pull away, watching their partnership crumble, watching their friendship die—was worse.

So she sat.

And she pretended.

And she told herself it was enough.

Even though it wasn't.

Even though it was killing her.

Across the cafeteria, Katie leaned closer to Aaron.

Whispered something in his ear.

Aaron smiled.

Ronnie looked away.

Peter reached across the table and took her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Ronnie squeezed his hand.

"Me too," she whispered.

They sat in silence.

The cafeteria noise swirled around them.

And Ronnie tried not to think about prom.

About watching Aaron dance with Katie while she stood on the sidelines.

About the masquerade masks that would hide everyone's faces.

About how easy it would be to pretend—just for one night—that she was the one Aaron wanted.

But she couldn't.

Because reality didn't work that way.

And Ronnie had learned a long time ago that wanting something didn't make it real.

So she let go of Peter's hand.

Picked up her fork.

And forced herself to eat.

One bite at a time.

Pretending everything was fine.

Pretending her heart wasn't breaking.

Pretending this was enough.

Even though it wasn't.

Even though it never would be.