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lambilegs · 1 day ago

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does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - i)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

soundtrack: oh girl - the chi-lites; kiss of life - sade, roommates - malcolm todd; real love baby - father john misty; come inside of my heart - iv of spades; let's stay together - al green; into you - fabolous ft. tamia

(contains: 33K words 😋, NOT the last part of this story (summer chapter is super long so splitting it into two/potentially three parts), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: internalized shame over kink, religious jokes as per usual, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of historical homophobia + towards lesbians, policing lesbians in the feminist movement for being attracted to women (the argument in which this takes place is very woman-centred just because this story is set in the nineties -- it's not at all meant to indicate that people who don't consider themselves women aren't included in feminism and/or can't be considered lesbians. you guys are one thousand percent part of this movement and are one thousand percent part of the lesbian community (if you identify as such ofc)!!), brief ruminations on reader's body hair,sexual content w/ reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "tits," "breasts," "clit," both reader and lee receiving oral + fingering)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

when you wake up in the morning, you can see the golden rays of light flashing under your doorframe. your bedroom has no window, for last year in august, you had told lee on the phone to take it – truly, it had been an offer of kindness to secure a semi-good relationship with your future roommate. in all honesty, you would’ve preferred the room with the window, but had been too anxious to voice that then. but, at least lee has it. you wonder what she thinks of when she wakes up in the morning and has the light streaming into her room, the branches of the tree that curve into her view fluttering with spring’s greenery.

lee. your face breaks into a wide grin, flutters immediately erupting in your stomach. you plant your hands on your face, nearly squealing in pure, unadulterated glee. you and lee kissed last night. you and lee fucking harker kissed last night. if you shut your eyes hard enough, you can reimagine the sensation of her lips on yours. it’s real, you know it is, but such an occurrence had existed in the sole seclusion of your fantasies for so long, so actually acknowledging it, with the security of it being a fact, feels so foreign, so odd, so unbelievable. you cannot believe it. it feels too good to be true – that she actually returns your feelings, that she actually wants to kiss you. but, it is true, and the knowledge of that is immensely heavy on your mind, yet far away and distant, all at once. it feels like the impossible, because you’re so accustomed to it being so, but every miniscule touch from the night before is so seared into your skin that you can’t deny just how real it is. it’s confusing.

it takes a few paces back and forth in your room, as well as deep breaths and some sloshing of mouthwash, before you summon the courage to head out. she’s in the kitchen, as she usually is, doing her round of studying. it’s nearly desperate how badly you want to lurch forward and kiss her again. every fibre of your body is wailing for it, crying out to touch her again.

“hey,” you greet, wanting to break the distance between you two as soon as possible, both the physical kind and her lack of knowledge over your presence.

her eyes dart up to you, then immediately glance away. “hey.”

a little part of you aches at the quiet, strained greeting. is this how it’s going to be? just as before? or worse, even more far apart? you feel your chest tighten. what if it was just one kiss? what if she’s changed her mind? what if she never even liked you – and a kiss was all she was curious about?

you stand in the threshold to the kitchen, your mind overrun with the tornado of thoughts, relentless in their harsh, biting winds and muddling sentiments. the idea that she doesn’t actually feel the same way has the bliss you had woken up with washed away with a burn akin to acid. how could just a mere action, a mere word of hers, have you so confused and anguished? had you always been like this? or perhaps it’s just the kiss. a kiss makes things more confusing, it blurs the lines, it tosses in new feelings and foreign dynamics into the mix. the unsurety it leads to makes every action, every word, count more than usual, because, suddenly, she’s something different than a friend. she’s some puzzle you need to sort through all over again – just like before, she’s a stranger to you in this new dynamic.

you can tell she takes note of your lack of movement, for her eyes tentatively lift to you, scanning your frozen position. “what?”

you shake your head, already feeling the rush of emotions stealing away your ability to speak. “nothing.”

she nods, going back to her papers. you could nearly scream. is that it? your eyes rove along her. her knuckles are white with how tightly she’s gripping the pen, and her jaw is clenched. she’s bothered by something. is it your hesitation? or is it just you?

you wordlessly turn around and head back into your room, selfishly hoping she feels at least a bit guilty when she hears the door loudly shut.

your eyes land on the pile of laundry on your bed. might as well do something useful if you’re going to prolong breakfast.

you’re a quarter of the way through the pile, neatly folding your socks into pairs, when a quiet knock comes to your door. you stiffen, patting your hair down and double checking yourself in the mirror. you rearrange your sitting position, taking in a long breath to steady your voice, then say, “yeah?”

the door creaks open, lee’s eyes trained onto you. one hand is carefully gripping the door’s handle, while another holds one of your mugs. you gulp hard at the sight, feeling your stomach flip at the sweet gesture. god, she’s so good. it makes it all the more difficult to remain petty and distant.

“hey.”

you glance at her before forcing your focus back on your laundry. “hi.”

“I thought I should try that again.”

you can’t hold back the laughter that her words arouse. “and why is that?”

“because…” she steps forward, carefully placing the mug on your nighttable. “we, um, kissed last night.” the words are tense and quiet, and you can imagine she feels some level of awkwardness from acknowledging it, now that the thrill and heat of the night has faded away.

you feel your face burn at the admission. her saying it is like a slap in the face – it’s so real, so true, and her admitting it makes it even more of a fact. it’s something not just remembered by you – another person knows it, and has experienced it, and it’s a fact that co-exists between the two of you. it’s real, there’s no way it can be part of some fantasy. you already knew this, but lee stating the kiss so plainly makes it even more drilled into your mind.

“yeah,” you mutter, eyes pinpointed to the pile of socks at your ankle. “do you, um, regret it?” the question fills you with dread. her confirming that she does would send you into a world of heartache, and it would ruin everything the two of you have, you know it would. but, you can’t just float in blissful ignorance. maybe that worked for your feelings and not knowing if she returned them, but a kiss is real and grounded. you can’t just ignore the implications and feelings involved, especially when it’s bound to impact your guys’ friendship.

“no,” she immediately answers. her voice lowers. “do you?”

“no.” eyes still downcast, you shrug. “I had wanted to do, you know, it, for a while.”

a shaky inhale is your only response, and from this angle, you can see how her hand thrums against her thigh. “okay.”

“do you not want it to happen again?”

“no.” she pauses, before quietly saying, “I’d like for it to happen again.”

“why?” you whisper.

“what… what do you mean?”

you feel your mouth twist at your next words, eyes beginning to grow sensitive with the burn veiling them. “I… did you just want to kiss me because you were curious or something?” saying the words you just want to kiss me feel surreal. you, kiss, me. to say those words and know it means the two of you, and a moment of shared intimacy, feels like some reality floating above you, just out of reach from being fully realized.

“no.”

you finally look up at her, shoulders sagging in exasperation. she looks away as soon as your eyes rest upon her. “then?”

“I…” she shuts her eyes close for a second, then turns back to you with a gaze so direct it makes you feel ensnared. “I like you.”

you feel almost detached from your body, the confession making you afloat. “really?”

she nods. “yeah. I do.” after a pause, she adds, “as more than a friend, I mean.”

your chest swells with the sweetest sort of anxiety, stunned into silence for a few moments before finally pushing yourself to speak. “I was scared you didn’t,” you confess, your voice hushed, eyes welling up more. “that you had changed your mind, or that maybe had wanted to kiss me for some other reason.” you want to tell her these things. she’s still the friend who you can talk to about anything, who you know will listen to your pain, and imprint it onto her mind because it means something to her, then do her best to comfort you, even if she may struggle. you don’t want to lose that – the act of confiding, the friendship.

“that’s not the case.”

“well, I know that now,” you shakily laugh, ducking your head down. “I just meant before.”

“yeah. sorry.”

her voice sounds quiet, a bit embarrassed. it makes you still. you had been focusing so much on your side of things, of the assurance you wanted her to provide for you, that you neglected just how anxious she must be feeling right now. you know how difficult connection can be for her sometimes, and you know as the person who asked for the kiss, there’s a unique kind of doubt she must be feeling herself. and yet, you’ve made no move to comfort her, to give her a sense of certainty. even before, you were upset with what felt like a curt greeting, but you, too, had only given her a single word of acknowledgment. perhaps she had just followed suit out of fear of what was going through your head.

you force your eyes to tear away from the laundry. “don’t apologize.”

“no, I should. I shouldn’t have let you leave just now, I shouldn’t have left it like that. when you said it was nothing. I–I wanted to ask more. I just, I didn’t know if I should. I wasn’t sure how to act.”

“I know. it’s okay.” you swallow hard, trying to ignore how pathetic your next words might come off as. if you two are going to be honest, might as well go all in. “I just felt a bit rejected, is all.”

she shakes her head. “you’re not. rejected, I mean. I want this.”

“I do too.”

you two lock eyes, her dark ones swimming in something, you’re not sure. with a quiet sigh, her shoulders relax, and the contours of her face, which had been tightened in tension, now soften. her lips part, before shutting, and she reaches up, one hand pressing against your face. your face heats up under her touch, your stomach a mess of sensations. but, her touch feels so good, so right, almost as though that hand of hers had been crafted to lay upon your cheek since the beginning of time.

“is this okay?” she whispers.

“more than okay.”

a small smile tilts her lips up.

“sit?” you gently ask, nodding to your bed.

lee looks down, eyebrows drawing in. she’s been in your bedroom before, but it’s mostly been during brief exchanges, like her asking you to pick something up from the grocery store you work at, or letting you know she’s leaving the apartment. but, it’s rare that she’s actually lingered and taken up space in your room. the way a friend would, the way a lover would.

after a moment, she seats herself on the edge, folding her hands in her lap, eyes wandering along your bedroom. she’s clearly uncomfortable in this position, and you ache to kiss the worry away. you freeze at the thought. right. you can actually do that now.

you suck in a breath, slowly rising to your feet, picking up your folded socks. you really just need some excuse to move around under the weight her silent gaze, and something to do as you mentally formulate how to go about another kiss. you two had shared three last night. one, on the bathroom counter, the second again on the counter after a brief laugh exchanged, then the third, a tender press of lips before heading through the door and out of your alcove of privacy. you two had sat next to each other for the night, with long gazes and secret smiles passed between like love notes. amaya and maria had come over after, and eventually, you were too exhausted to wait for them to leave, heading to sleep, partially empty at the lack of kisses.

when you stand back up, lee is eyeing her hands, which wind about one another. you smile. she looks right like this – sitting on your bed, being a part of your bedroom. this is a part of your guys’ apartment that’s home for you, that’s just yours, and her being inside of it makes you feel that she, too, is part of this private sphere reserved just for you. that she, too, is home, and comfort, and a peaceful escape from the world. it feels right for her to take up space here – because she’s not just doing that, she’s simply fitting into a part of your life that she always provided the same needs for, just in her own way.

you walk over to her slowly, feeling suddenly like a predator stalking its poor prey. especially when her eyes widen at your proximity, alert and curious.

you rub your fingers together before cautiously raising a hand to her hair, tucking the strands of it behind her ear. her eyes flutter shut at the movement, and pleasure burns in your stomach. did your touch have such an impact on her? the notion stirs up your sense of confidence, and you mutter, “don’t be a stranger. it’s just my room.”

she hums in response, eyes opening to you. “I’m just not used to it.”

“you should get used to it.”

“why?”

“because, we’re… you know.” you fumble with the words. you guys aren’t officially girlfriends or anything. at least not yet, despite how bad you’d like to be. but, maybe it’s for the best right now. for the idea of becoming official, and having that label hanging over both your heads, makes your stomach tighten with a knot. it feels too soon, with too little to be certain of. but, you know that’s not all it is. even if you had every answer fulfilled about yours guys’ current state, it’s really just one future outcome that lurks in a dark corner of your brain and that stirs the most fear within. “romantic.”

“so, because of that, I’ll be in your bedroom more?”

you glare at her, very much noting the teasing lilt in her tone. “shut up.”

she nods, her lips still upturned. “okay.”

“and, just, well… can I kiss you?”

her smile widens, lines near her eyes deepening. the sight of it makes you nearly bury yourself in your hands. has she always looked at you like this? “yeah.”

you suck in a deep breath. god, how had she managed the nerves of taking the initiative like this last night? you’re struggling with it, and you guys have already kissed – you can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must’ve been for her.

you lower your torso down, tentatively grabbing her shoulders, her automatic flex nearly making you pant in anticipation. god, she feels so firm and steady. you two lock eyes, hers searching yours patiently. you remain like that for a second, feeling terribly awkward and pressured under her gaze. suddenly, it’s like you’re a teenager having their first kiss.

she gives you a small tilt of her head, eyes skimming over your lips. “it’s okay.”

her small assurance steadies you a bit. she’d never judge you. she wants this too. with those thoughts ringing in your mind, you move closer, planting your lips on hers. the position makes you too uncomfortable to properly make out with her, but for a few seconds, your lips press to and explore hers, softly moving against one another. the wet insides of her mouth mold to yours, making it damp. something in you feels feral at the sensation – her saliva, something that was a part of her mouth, part of her, is now inside of your mouth, and will exist deep in you, for you to own and have infused within.

you two part with a small, wet sound, and you throb at it.

her cheeks are dusted with a pink flush, her breathing a bit laboured, and she stares at you with those shining, dark eyes.

“I, um…” you start, trying to ignore the heated desire bursting through you. “I’ll keep folding.”

she gulps. “okay. should I, uh, leave?”

“don’t.” you sit back onto your bed, crossing your legs. “if you can, please, yeah – stay.”

“okay. I’ll stay.”

“good.”

she smiles at you, and you busy yourself with laundry, hoping she doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly.

—

lee doesn’t know how to go about this new position you two have landed yourselves in. the last thing she had expected last year was to end up… romantically involved with her roommate. it feels both natural and unsettling. the friendship between you two has helped in easing the moments of awkward transitioning, but still, she can’t help but feel intimidated at the new territory you two now find yourselves in. she knows romance adds a whole new set of expectations, questions and dynamics that don’t exist in a friendship. especially considering the roommate situation, it plagues her mind with a whirl of questions. like, should she ask you out on a date? over the years, she’s learned that there’s a very organized process to dating, as useless as she finds it. it’s no longer a shared kiss, then automatically going steady. now, two people could go on dates, kiss, and even have sex, but being actually officially together, or exclusively with each other, is an entirely separate dynamic to partake in. she supposes it’s not the most surprising thing in the world – in dating and sex, there have always been these sorts of rituals and practices, even amongst animals. but, this particular one does it make especially harder to know what to expect in her case.

you’ve exchanged a few kisses, but she knows that doesn’t mean she’s your girlfriend. but, she’d like you to be. perhaps it’s just a possessive streak in her, but she wants you to be hers, and she herself has no interest in dating others. but, perhaps you do. maybe you want to explore your options before entering into any sort of commitment with her. but, it didn’t seem like you’re interested in anyone else, based on how enthusiastic you’ve been about spending time with her. but, perhaps her wishful thinking is clouding her judgement. maybe you’d prefer to spend time in this sort of limbo the two of you currently inhabit before entering into a relationship, whether it be due to wanting to explore, or wanting to see what it’s like to be romantic with her. if it’s for the latter reason, though, what does that entail? you already kiss a lot more than you ever did as friends. should you two be going on dates? she reflects on all the outings you two have already gone on together – would dates just be those replicated, but with the title of a “date”? or should she be asking you to attend outings different from those? like the typical fancy restaurant. she winces at the idea. she really does not want to go to a fancy restaurant.

lee rubs her forehead, eyes pressing shut. she’s supposed to be studying, not consumed by her relationship status with you. besides, all this private, internal musing isn’t going to solve her dilemma. what will help is to just talk to you. she knows this. but, part of her feels a bit uncertain at the idea of doing so. she’s scared what she’ll discover if she has this conversation with you. if you are seeing other people, she doesn’t know how she’ll feel about that. well, actually she does. she knows it’ll hurt her, and that a selfish, private part of her will wish you two could only see each other. but, asking you to not do so feels like an overstep. if maria was there, she’d tell lee that it’s fair of lee to ask that, and if you both can’t agree on how to go about dating, perhaps you’re simply not meant to be. lee sighs at the thought. maria’s practical – it’s precisely why lee and her get along so well, and can depend on one another to be a voice of reason when feelings are involved. but, the idea of ending this with you makes lee shift in her seat, the notion a distasteful one.

she knows the sort of complications in dating, as with any part of life, are just a testament to a variety of experience and preference amongst people – it’s the only explanation. but, jesus, does it make things harder to figure out. all the labels, and nuanced decisions and potential actions – it adds a level of social complexity and organized process to something people always say should be purely about feeling. but, lee’s set in that regard. she already knows what she feels. she likes you – plain and simple. and you like her, too. but, she knows romance carries an inherent social aspect to it, in its presentation, identification and process. exactly the kind of stuff she struggles with.

she wishes she could just be one of those people who feel relaxed through the process of dating. she never was. in high school, when her friend first initiated a kiss with her in the privacy of the school’s change room, she spent days racking her brain over how to act, what to do, what to say. similarly enough, in her first year of university, she was only lucky enough to have been with someone who had been a lot more decisive than her in figuring out how they ought to navigate dating. she feels the sting of disappointment at realizing how little she’s changed since then. still, she fears and struggles with how to go about things with someone now.

setting her pen down, she leans back into the chair, head lolling back. her eyes scan over the yellow ceiling of the library, the tops of the wooden pillars. even touching you is something to adapt to. it doesn’t come naturally to her. the urge? yes, of course that comes naturally – in fact, it slams into her, full-force, without warning most of the time. thoughts of kissing you, being the one to comfort you after a long day, to more vivid mental images that flash through her head in a split second and send her eyes squeezing shut.

it’s not that she’s unaccustomed to it, necessarily. to this day, her mom is more than affectionate. always stroking lee’s hair, staring at her with eyes lee cannot bear to meet, rubbing her back with smooth circles. she’s one of the only people lee hugs in greeting without being coaxed into it. it’s gotten more intense since lee moved out. now, when lee visits, she’s sure that her mom would have her stationed at her side at every given moment of the day if lee wasn’t so adept at silently escaping to the confines of the bedroom.

when she was a child, it was just part of everyday life. she was used to her mom’s affection, and even back then, she was keenly aware that it was something her mom did for comfort. after all, lee herself wasn’t drawn to hugs or cuddles, but anyone could see her mom was. and lee loved her mom, so she welcomed the touches. it was that simple. in a way, it brought her a bit of comfort too. their world was a very lonely one, but in those moments, where lee’s sense of loneliness was blurred by tiredness, and her small body was wrapped in her mom’s arms and a blanket, she felt that surely, her and her mom could stand a chance in this world, even if it was just the two of them. and things would be okay, even if she had no one else. the older she got, the harder it became to convince herself of that sentiment, no matter how hard her mom tried to hold her.

maybe it’s because of that loneliness that it was hard for her to accept touch. she had always been so used to it being just her and her mom, and with how much of an outcast she was, or at least felt like, growing up, maybe she just settled into a lack of affection from others. maybe she just got accustomed to the distance that still causes an internal division within her to this day, and the lack of connection resulting from this. and so, because of that, anything newly affectionate feels strange. but, then again, even after having befriended maria and amaya, there still continued a strain she felt with compliments, touches, the whole lot of it. she just isn’t certain what the ratio is between simply being empty of it, and used to that, versus having a genuine discomfort with it.

she blinks at the desk, then stands up to exit the library, leaving her work there. there’s a phone booth in the pod just outside the library, and thumbing a quarter from her pocket, she sucks in a deep breath before slipping it in. with memorized confidence, she punches in the number, and waits as the dial rings.

the call finally gets picked up. “yes, who is it?”

“hi, mom.”

“lee?”

a spring of irritation flutters in her. she doesn’t know what’s been wrong with her mom these past few years. just that something happened, and since then, her mom has slowly been losing herself. she’s more lost, more hazy, and more often than not, lee feels like she’s talking to a shell of the woman who raised her. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault, but she wishes she knew what happened. but, her mom still thinks she’s a child, still thinks she needs protection.

“yeah, it’s me.” she pauses. she wants her mom to know how much she cares – not just because of the guilt she’s starting to feel over her momentary frustration, but because she knows through everything, her mom has never faltered in caring for her. but, it’s hard. hard to tell her mom these things when for years, lee has been driven away and trying to seek a life beyond their home. “are you okay, mom?”

“yeah, I’m okay. just came back from the grocery store.”

lee nods. good. that’s good. she actually left the house. “what’d you get?”

“some oatmeal, porridge – things that are easy to make. I got the cereal you like. for when you visit next.”

lee’s mouth twists. visiting, right. she needs to do that soon. it’s nearing to june, and she hasn’t seen her mom since winter break. almost half a year. the realization makes her purse her lips. it had been so long. too long. “thanks. I’ll visit soon. I promise.”

“yeah.” she doesn’t know if her mom’s voice is hushed in relief or doubt, and she’s not sure if she wants to discover the answer. “how are classes?”

“good. finals are coming up, so things will be busy soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll do good, babygirl.”

lee’s eyes close, the words stabbing her with a mixture of anguish, comfort and longing. she misses her mom so much. “I’ll try.”

“and that’s as good as passing.”

her lips curve into a small smile. “I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. even when you were a kid, you’d be more strict about how your projects look than I was.”

lee huffs out a small laugh. it’s true. she was always so exact about the details of anything she knew was getting assessed. not much different from now. “in your defense, you were tired. from work and all.”

“lots of stuff was on my mind.”

lots of stuff is always on lee’s mind, too. her and her mom aren’t so different. “I understand.”

“you always have, lee.”

guilt pierces her. her mom would never know just how much lee doesn’t understand, how much she wishes was different. there’s no way to say that, though, so she just hums in response.

when the silence lingers for too long, lee says, “I’ll call you later, mom, okay?”

“okay.”

if things were different, maybe they’d be the kind of mother and daughter who say I love you before hanging up. but, they aren’t. they haven’t been for a while. and so, they say their goodbyes and hang up.

–

as the days roll along, you become increasingly apparent of the end of the school year looming over your head. soon, you’ll be done. and what then? you still don’t know with full certainty what you’ll do post-graduation. and that fact was easy to ignore in the flurry of classes and lectures. but, finals are coming, which leaves you with many solitary hours of studying, where you have nothing but some music and leaves upon leaves of paper scrawled with your handwriting to look through. and in those hours, it becomes all too easy to get frustrated with your mind that doesn’t seem to be absorbing anything, and your body that can’t withstand anymore hours of being awake late into the night. and with that frustration comes disappointment at your lack of progress, and anger that you can’t handle more. and this only spins into more worries about how you’ll cope with the real world, the one with a real, grownup job. and that leads to the question of: fuck, what will I even do?

it feels like everyone else in the world knows what they’re up to except for you. you know it’s not true, but, still, it feels that way when you hear all your friends talking about their plans for post-graduation, whether it be travelling, working, doing their master’s or even just taking a year off from life. hell, you’re so unsure about what you want you don’t even know if a year off is what you’d like. that’s how lost you are.

it makes you feel small and infantilized. like everyone else is leaving their footsteps on a pathway, while all you can do is just trace the marks with your fingers, only wishing you could trod along behind them.

the whirlwind of thoughts catch you in a storm of stomach piercing anxiety and the tight grip of stress, which skyrockets the further you stray from focusing on your notes. the stress causes you to become distracted, and the distraction furthers your stress. it’s an endless cycle.

you lay your head on the desk in your room, eyes closing, wrapping you in darkness. you wish you could skip to the moment where your life is set into motion, a job secured and certainty of your place in life achieved.

a knock shatters your musings. you raise your head up. “yeah?”

lee tentatively opens the door, eyes latched onto you. for a moment, your train of thoughts cracks in the center, the opening gapping for nothing but lee’s soft eyes and quiet approach. “hey,” she says.

“hi.”

she lingers in the doorway. “you’ve been in here for a while.”

you shakily laugh, trying to ignore the burning of your eyes. “yeah, just – long night, you know?”

she leans on the doorframe, eyes sliding to the pile of notes on your desk. “can I… help at all?”

you don’t see how she could. it’s too much content to ask her to look over and help you make any sort of guide for. besides, you feel like you’re on that fine edge of tipping into complete, all-consuming panic, and you need to handle that alone. “no, no, it’s okay. but, thank you.”

she nods. her eyes skim over your room, and you aren’t sure if it’s genuine observation or simply not wanting to meet your eyes. “I can make coffee.”

you can’t bear to reject another offer that’s as sweet as the one she’s making. “that’d be great. thanks.”

she turns to leave before freezing. you cock your head, waiting.

“you should lie down for a bit. take a break.”

“I don’t know…” it sounds tempting, so tempting, your small bed carrying more allure than it has all semester. but, you know once you get in, it’ll be hard to resist getting back up.

she licks her lips, eyes flickering to your unmade bed before meeting yours again. “just for a bit.”

and apparently, you’re all too susceptible to her quiet persuasion. “okay.”

ten minutes later, you’re curled into your bed, fingers toying with your plush blanket. lee carefully sets the mug on your nighttable, muttering, “careful. it’s hot.”

a smile curls onto your lips, something stirring in your stomach at the kind gesture. now that you two are, well, more than friends, these moments of domesticity have another layer of intimacy that didn’t exist before. it makes your head go hazy and soft with dreams of a future together. one where you two live together post-graduation, maybe share a bedroom that has photos from this past year taped to a wall. “thank you.”

she nods, and you feel yourself heat up at the way a small grin teases at her lips when her eyes linger on you. you barely get to relish under the attention before she swivels around to leave.

“wait!”

lee turns and blinks at you. “what?”

now that you actually have to say what you want, you feel like a coward. because, in all honesty, what you want most is for her to lie with you and hold you in those strong, steady arms. but, for all the kissing the two of you have done, you’ve barely managed a cuddle. never have, in fact.

you pick at a thread, avoiding her face, forcing the words out only for the reason that if it leads to what you want, you know it’ll be so good. “do you… I don’t know, do you wanna lie with me?”

she gulps, and you watch the way her neck tenses, a muscle in it visibly pulsing. there’s something about lee’s body that makes you want to touch spots you never even thought you could want to touch. the bare, smooth skin behind her ear that gets revealed when she ties her hair back. the muscles and bones lining her neck. the parts of her chest that get revealed with those open-collar shirts. her fingertips, her sharp nose. those lashes that fan as she watches you with clear hesitation. you want to kiss them all.

“are you sure?”

“mhm.” you try to hold her gaze despite how much you want to hide beneath the weight of it. “if you want to too.”

“I do.”

your cheeks ache with the wide grin that splits over your face.

“you look satisfied,” she muses, lifting her wrist to remove her watch. god, that’s so attractive. you hate her so much for how effortlessly appealing she is, wondering if other girls look at her the way you do. the thought leaves you with a stinging jab of jealousy.

“I suppose I am.” you shuffle to the side of your bed pressed into the wall, leaving a small gap for her to lie upon.

she slips off her belt too, nimble fingers undoing the latch then dragging it from the hooks on her slacks. you lick your lips at the sight. god, you wish the two of you were having sex. it’d be so easy then to grab her by the belt, slowly tug her forward, kiss her stomach through that shirt, and ask her to give you an hour of nothing but pleasure and distraction. the efficiency at which she rids herself of these uncomfortable accessories has you nearly high with arousal, the gestures so quick, focused and sensual in a way totally unique to her. it’s so effortless, so smooth, and carries a connotation that makes you want to shy away. all the other ways she’d use those swift fingers on you…

she walks over with a slight grin, and you wonder if she can read your mind. then again, you don’t think she realizes just how attractive she is.

gingerly, she seats herself on the edge, looking at you past her shoulder. her fingers fiddle with the material of her pants for a few seconds before slowly raising to your face. you feel yourself freeze with nerves when her fingertips skim along your cheek, tracing over your pimples, marks and bumps. she does it with such lightness, and her dark eyes rove over your face. you feel as though she’s drinking you in.

“you’re warm,” she mumbles, her smile widening.

“shut up,” you mutter, giggling despite the words. “you’re just cool to the touch, so I automatically feel warm.”

“oh? is that your theory?”

“yes, and it’s the correct one.”

“I see. so, definitely not a blush.”

you roll your eyes, stomach still fluttering with how her fingers explore your face. “definitely not. don’t get so ahead of yourself.”

“mm, I won’t.” her hand smooths into your hair, and your eyes nearly rest at the sensation of her fingers getting tangled in it, her palm rubbing at your scalp. “good thing I have you to keep me in check.”

you snort. “and you’re the future agent, too – you should have more objectivity than me. you ought to be embarrassed.”

“I suppose it’s time for a career change, then,” she chuckles, nails lightly scraping against your head.

“not too late to change your degree, either – haven’t graduated just yet.”

“I’ll think about it.”

the banter and soothing touches have you feeling more emboldened, and you whine out, “lie down, lee.”

her smile stretches wider, and she clears her throat, eyes darting between you and the empty space she’s seated upon. her hand slowly slides from your hair, and she shuffles on the mattress from side to side, wobbling oh-so awkwardly, before tentatively lowering to her back. laying on your side, you watch her stretch her legs out, shifting stiffly. she folds her hands over her stomach, and blinks hard at the ceiling.

you burst into laughter at her clear discomfort. “okay, well, now it just looks like I’m holding you hostage.”

she rolls her eyes. “it’s been… a long time since I did this.”

immediately, your stomach is whirring with equal parts curiosity and jealousy. “oh? with who?”

she peaks at you from the corner of her eye. “do I want to answer this?”

you pout, poking her arm. “come on, please, tell me.”

she sighs, glancing away. “I last dated someone in my first year of university.”

you hum, cupping your face as you stare at her. her eyes are avoidant of your gaze, and her fingers are twindling about. “do you not want to talk about it?”

“not really.”

you bite your lip, feeling an ache of worry drop down to your stomach. but, you don’t want to push. the last thing you want is to drive her away. not when you just started having her. “oh, okay.”

lips pursed, her eyes move to your hand, which lies limp near her hip. “but, you want to know, don’t you?”

guiltily, you shrug.

she inhales a sharp breath. “we didn’t date for long. just close to a year. we ended things due to incompatibilities.”

you cock your head at her.

“you know, things like our future. she planned to travel for years after university, I wanted to work here and eventually go to virginia. it slowly became apparent that we had too many differences, and not enough similarities to make up for it.”

“I’m sorry.” you feel your lips pinch into a frown. poor lee. you know she feels things deeply, so you can imagine the pain she must’ve felt to have suffered through such a slow downfall of a relationship. as well as the anxiety from how uncertain a breakup of that nature is. your hand twitches, and before you can let yourself resist, you give into the urge, your fingers stroking through those messy bangs on her forehead. she flinches in surprise, then relaxes a moment later, gaze shifting to you. in silence, you continue aimlessly playing with her hair – running your fingers through it, peeling strands from her sweaty forehead, rearranging them. and she stares at you through it, allowing your gentle touches to proceed.

“it’s okay.” her fingers wrap around your wrist, and you shiver when she presses her mouth to your palm, a soft kiss gifted to you. “it was a long time ago.”

“then, why did you not wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know, it just always felt like a… weak reason to explain a breakup.” she tears her eyes from you. “I should have been more aware of those kinds of things before getting together with her.”

“it’s understandable, though,” you softly say, hands straying to the layers of hair framing her cheeks. “sometimes, you don’t want to realize or figure things out like that – or don’t remember to – when you like someone a lot and, like, you know, are eager to get together.”

she nods. “yeah.”

so, she did like that girl a lot, then. especially to have acted in such an impulsive, and therefore, un-lee, sort of way. you can’t help but itch to ask if she likes you that much, but you know how goddamn desperate and possessive that’d sound. so, you keep your lips pursed shut.

“was the plan to just lie beside each other in the literal sense?” she inquires after another minute of you fiddling with her hair.

her question eases your worries a bit, sending you into a bout of laughter. “no, I thought we could… I don’t know, cuddle.”

“cuddle,” she repeats, her tone so serious and thoughtful. “okay. how do you want to do it?”

“uh…” your eyes search her face in question. “in the most literal sense?”

“no, I mean, what position?”

a joke immediately flies to the tip of your tongue. “I don’t know, how about doggy?”

her eyes widen, head reeling back. after your words seem to settle in, she snickers softly, cheeks evidently growing pink. “forget I asked.”

giggling, you siddle closer to her. “no, no, please, c’mon, I promise I’ll be good.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, then tentatively raises her arm up, leaning back to give you room. you nearly swoon at the sight of her doing so.

you press your chest against her side, pausing before laying your head upon her shoulder, in the slope between it and her neck. when you feel nothing but air against your back, you turn back to find her arm hovering above you. “lee, you can lay your arm down.”

she clears her throat, then follows through, arm tight around your shoulders. yours hangs upon her stomach and you could nearly shudder in pleasure. her body feels so solid under your touch, and, best of all, so real. hard, lithe and strong, she’s solidified under your touch, transformed from your imagination into a work of art, marble and hard. she’s actually here, in your arms, stomach rising and falling with steady breaths. she’s here, she’s real, and you’re actually touching her.

and you can’t get enough. you’re embarrassed to do more, take more, but you push yourself on, anyways, knowing if you both resist taking these steps, you’ll never enter into the steady stream of easy, effortless touches that two partners are supposed to share. and so, you press your face into the firm softness of her neck, breathing her in.

–

lee’s fingers skim along your back in light, feather touches. she tilts her head to yours, chin rubbing against your hair. it feels good to hold you in this way. new and unfamiliar, yes – she had to force herself to remain still and not stiffen up when you first circled your arm around her. but, now, she’s melted into the touch, feeling boneless. each caress of yours is like a whisper of assurance. she tries to not think too hard about her touches and just give into them naturally, her hand moving on instinct to rub along your back. it only furthers her confidence to see the small reactions that indicate your pleasure at her movements, such as curling deeper into her, humming at the back of your throat or sighing. these little telltale signs of your relaxation help her in giving into the natural movements of her body, and after just a few more minutes, her hand is mindlessly playing with your sleeve, rubbing the soft fabric of your t-shirt. the other one is soon met with yours and you two twirl your fingers together, a small act that has her smiling, her body feeling embarrassingly fuzzy at the sight of your hand slipped into hers, warm palm rubbing intimately against her own. she wants to memorize what your hand feels like.

at one point, your hand stills in hers. before she can ask what’s wrong, you abruptly ask, “wait, virginia? why are you going there after university?”

she blinks at the sudden inquiry, faintly amused at whatever trajectory paved the way for you to arrive at that point. but, her answer is quick, for it’s been imprinted into her brain since she finally settled on her plans months ago. “quantico, virginia. the academy for fbi training. I have to work a bit before I go, but it’s the plan.”

your head lifts, eyes wide. “so, you’ve decided, then? to do the special agent route?”

she nods. she’s known since she was twenty that she wanted to go into law enforcement, and being a special agent was the idea that always lingered at the forefront of her mind. it was the choice that felt most appealing, but she had wanted to look into all of her options before deciding on it with finality this year. and it feels right, so right. she wants to assist with crimes of a great weight, and put her analytical skills to use and do something worthwhile in the world.

she hopes you think she’s up to the task.

you lean over and press a kiss to her cheek, eyes bright and pretty. she has to look away, feeling her face heat up. but, there’s no escape to your affection, for you follow her, pressing your nose into her cheek and whispering, “congrats, lee.”

she clears her throat. she doesn’t understand what there is to congratulate her for. she simply arrived at a decision. but, still, she finds herself unable to protest when the congratulatory moment means she gets to bask under your attention.

and bask she does, for you continue dotting her cheek with kisses. she knows you must feel the heat of her skin, and as embarrassing as it is, she can’t find it in herself to coax you away. it feels too nice, and the small kisses have her wanting to both lean away and pull you in for more.

when you stop, much to her unspoken disappointment, you bury your head in her neck again, voice slightly muffed. “how long will you be in virginia for?”

“close to half a year.” she already dreads the social aspect of it. she feels as though she only just started getting comfortable with university, and again, she’ll be thrown into an entirely new place, setting and crowd. she’s prepared to devote herself to her studies and training, for that she’s eager and ready for. but, she knows it’ll be a hard adjustment. especially after this year. especially after you. her breaths become heavier. what would happen to you both? to ask you to come with her feels like too much, considering how far into the future the move is. and she doesn’t want you to feel obligated or tied down to anything. but, she could still try to figure out where your plans linger.

“and you – do you know where you want to go… after graduation?”

she feels your chest heave against her side and the way you shift slightly. something about the question seems to make you on edge. her fingers continue to skim between your shoulder blades, hoping her touch can give you as much comfort as yours gives her.

“I… I don’t know. it’s really stressing me out, honestly. I have no idea what I wanna do after graduation. the thought of graduating makes me feel like I’m losing some sort of security blanket or something.”

she nods. she had suspected as much. you never made explicit mentions of your post-graduation plans, and she had known a possibility could be that you simply didn’t have anything to relay. “that’s okay, though. not everyone knows yet.”

“yeah, but, I want to, though. I feel like i’m looking down into some dark hole, just closer and closer to falling in. in a way, I envy you, lee. you have a plan, something you’re working towards. right now, the only goal I have is to graduate. after that, I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. where to go.”

“hm,” she hums, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the action comes so naturally, constructed of purely raw instinct, and it almost shakes her just how normal this feels. after a mere two weeks. “maybe I can help you look for jobs. or places.” she lingers on those last words, part of her hopeful you’ll ask to up the lease and stay here. with her.

you shift again. “I don’t know. it overwhelms me to think of it right now. maybe after exams, though?”

her wishful thinking deflates. she needs to stop getting her hopes up like this. you guys just started… whatever it is the two of you have. it’s too soon, too ridiculous, to be asking you to extend the lease with her now, then move with her to virginia. not due to the notion itself of living together. if it were anyone else, yes, the idea of living together would bear a lot of anxiety. but, you two have been living together for months now. to lengthen that doesn’t feel all that surprising to her. but, she knows living together isn’t what would be a big thing to ask – it’d be doing so with no reason other than to remain together. as for virginia – is two weeks enough time to wish for a future? it doesn’t feel like just two weeks. two weeks of romance, sure. but, her time with you has exceeded nine months, and they’ve been nine months of feeling her tight restraints unfurl and her reservations shatter into pieces. nine months of achieving a domestic comfort that she’s not ready to let go of once the year-long lease is up. she knows choosing to live separately doesn’t entail ending things, but the change of it carries an uncomfortable weight.

“we can look into it whenever you want,” she mutters. “but, it’s okay that you don’t know. I think lots of people don’t.”

“yeah, but I wish I wasn’t one of them,” you nearly whine against her neck.

she snorts, feeling rather endeared. “I know. but, it’s okay to be. you have time.” her voice lowers. “that doesn’t change once graduation comes.”

when you say nothing, she lightly nudges you. “okay?”

“okay,” you mumble, pressing a peck to her neck. she feels herself clench at the cold, wet feeling. it’s been on her mind more and more. having sex with you, that is. some nights, it feels nearly unbearable to know you’re merely across the hall, the warmth of your body so close. she’s not sure if you’re fully aware of it, but sometimes, she feels the way your hips tense under her hands, how your breath hitches, and the vibrations of your moans. those little reactions worm their way into her thoughts at the randomest of moments, tightly gripping her mind and consuming her with blasts of images of how you’d moan with her hands groping different parts of you. she swallows hard, hoping you don’t notice the way her body re-adjusts on your bed. it’s so hard to manage sometimes. she wants to worship you with her mouth, her hands, any part of hers, so long as you wish it. she wants to memorize your body so well that she could bring you pleasure without even looking.

the feeling only increases by a tenfold one afternoon, when the two of you are walking down the street to the video store. it’s an unseasonably hot day at the start of june, and lee’s sweating through the t-shirt she’s wearing, the material sticky and uncomfortable around her. she hates the heat. the dampness of her skin, the way her upper lip tastes salty when she licks her lips, the itch in the crook of her arm. it’s a lot of sensations at once, and she doesn’t handle that so well. it’s only made more intense from the noises of students yelling and gathering upon the street. most of them are divided into groups, chatting on steps and curbs, sharing soda from the grocery store or running along the sidewalk.

her eyes scan along the surroundings, taking in all the people. she’s never been one to join in on this kind of energized activity. whether it be the dance floor of a party, the rageful debate in a classroom, or even the chase games on the playground. she’s always been content to linger on the sidelines, watching the activity, knowing it’d be too stressful and overbearing for her to join, but finding it interesting to observe from afar.

she hears a sharp scream, and her eyes immediately dart up in concern, gaze relaxing when she realizes it’s just a girl screaming as some guy begins to twist open the fire hydrant.

lee’s mouth lowers to your ear. “I don’t think he’s allowed to do it.”

“oh, lee,” you coo with a roll of your eyes, gently smacking a hand to her stomach. “don’t be so stern.”

her lips purse. “I’m not. I just mean he might get himself in trouble.”

you shrug, smirking at her. “we’re near the end of the school year. everyone’s excited.”

she hums, mouth still pinched in concern. if the fire hydrant gets opened, someone might complain and call the police on the group of students, which will only arouse a lot of unwanted chaos and panic.

there’s no way to stop it, though – a fact that only becomes more apparent when the water begins gushing out of the hydrant. the guy who opened it cups the stream to direct it at the girl who had screamed, her voice raising in pitch when she’s hit with the water.

“watching other girls get wet?”

heat crawls up her neck at your words, the innuendo far from being missed. she avoids your eyes, the sexual implication too embarrassing for her to handle. especially considering all she wants to do is pull you in and tell you you’re the only one wants in that state. she wishes she could – it’s an odd urge, a rare one, but she wants to flirt with you, and watch you get flustered. but, she loses the courage, and keeps her mouth shut, lest for the mumbled, “no. I was just observing.”

“will you observe if I go in?”

she blinks at the question. “in the water?”

“yeah.”

when her eyes flick to you, you’re smiling, eyes twinkling in that way they do when you tease her. she sighs, looking away. “maybe.”

it’s a lie, of course. she’d watch you for an eternity if she could. washing the dishes, flipping through cue cards, soaking in sweat, eyes filled with the stickiness of sleep, picking at your lips that have grown crisp in the winter – you make every sight worth devoting her attention to.

it’s a sentiment that’s brutally interrupted when you grab her hand, urging her to follow you into the blasts of water.

she immediately tugs back. “I didn’t say I want to go in.”

“oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. didn’t you like doing this kind of stuff as a kid?”

she falters. she never did this kind of stuff as a child. “I don’t know.”

“please, lee, c’mon,” you plead softly, grip tightening on her hand and pulling her close to the small crowd of students that have started to run through the water.

she knows it’ll be a lot to handle, the stimulation and noise, but the idea feels a bit more bearable with the thought of you being at her side. that, and with some preventative measures, of course. “fine. but, then, we’re getting food, the video, and going right back home, okay?”

“okay, grandpa,” you giggle, beginning to yank her forward, sneakers scratching against the pavement as you run headfirst into the water.

as soon as it hits her, goosebumps flare over her skin, coating her in texture as the cold, seering pressure of the water immediately soaks the two of you. the guys controlling the water seem to be glad you two joined, immediately directing the water over the two of you. lee feels nothing, thinks about nothing, other than the cold iciness of the water bursting along every inch of skin. her jeans become heavy with it, her mouth tastes salty, and in midst of the previous burning heat, it’s almost an escape, getting lost in nothing but the coldness, the pressure, people’s laughter and your hand in hers.

when the spray of the water is directed elsewhere, she sucks in a deep breath, taking a moment to process what just happened. she feels her bangs plastered to her forehead, and her ponytail hangs lower with the weight of the water. still, your hand remains in hers, squeezing assuredly. no one bats an eyes. she supposes it’s a lucky part to being a girl – no one raises an eyebrow at any affection she could share with you, so long as it’s confined behind the lines that mark affection from unadulterated lust.

she firmly grasps your hand, coaxing you closer so you can hear her. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathlessly laugh, turning to her.

she swallows hard at the sight of you. the glaring sunshine casts a gold beam along your face, and with the shine of the water, you’re nearly glittering. for a few moments, she finds herself barely managing words at the sight of how… radiant you look. it’s such a dramatic and heavy word, but the only one she can think of to describe you.

a voice in her whispers to tell you. she knows she should. it’s what partners do, it’s normal. and she wants you to know how fond she is of you. expressing it is hard, but she could at least try for you. and maybe with time, she’ll adjust, as she always has in the past with her other partners.

her eyes flick over your face before she leans in, whispering, “you look beautiful.”

any hesitation she might have felt is immediately swept away at the sight of your wide smile.

“thanks,” you say, teeth shining at her.

she wants to kiss you, so bad. but, she can’t. not for a lack of want. but, both past relationships she had had were lacking in such public displays. the first time, it was due to a mutual agreement. the second time, it was just her. now, in her third time, she isn’t sure what to do. she doesn’t know what you want or how you desire people to perceive the two of you in public. but, even if she did, she’s not sure if she’s ready for it. she’s never done it before. while it’s terrifying to imagine all these people casting their gazes upon the two of you, exposing you both to their judgement, another part of her, a strong part of her, wants to embrace you, and show everyone you’re hers. not that you even are in the most technical sense.

she’s only ripped away from these thoughts when you turn to her in the pizza place you’re standing in line for together. “you want mushrooms, right?”

she nods, then freezes at the sight of your bra, which is totally exposed under the sheer transparency of your soaked white shirt.

“lee,” you drawl out with a laugh. “are you checking me out?”

her eyes immediately latch onto the chalkboard behind the counter, desperately hoping she’s convincing in her act. “no.”

“uh huh. totally believe you.”

“good.” she pauses, blinking hard. “because it’s true.”

“oh, so,” you mutter, stepping closer to her, staring at her through your lashes. her abdomen stirs with a warm, molten sort of sensation at the gaze. “you won’t kiss me or touch me once we get back?”

she clears her throat, gaze flicking around, her stomach tightening in nervousness at your bold words. “um, no.”

thirty minutes later, she practically tosses the box of pizza onto the counter, shoving your back against the front door, pressing her mouth to yours. one hand is tightly encircled on your waist, while the other is cupping your jaw, massaging the muscle so your mouth hangs open. she immediately seizes the opportunity, excitement bubbling in her, and her tongue snakes into your mouth. the warmth of it is a refuge in the chills still surging through her body from the water. she eagerly loses herself in it, swirling her tongue around yours.

✩

you pull your head back, and before she can question what’s wrong, you push her in the direction of the couch. she gracelessly tumbles into the cushions of it, immediately feeling a pierce of discomfort at knowing the seat is getting wet from her clothes. but, she urges herself to ignore the mental protest, barely managing to swallow down a moan when you climb into her lap. you stare down at her with a wisp of a smile, eyes gentle, and she finds herself unable to meet them with the tenderness contained in your attention.

“you can touch me, lee.”

her fingers tighten into the couch’s fabric. “where?”

you press a hot, moist kiss to her cheek. “anywhere.”

she grits her teeth at the answer, but protest is the last thing on her mind. “are you sure?”

you pepper kisses back to the corner of her mouth. “yes.”

the breath she draws in is a shuddering one. “okay.”

her hands hesitantly cup the crease of your legs where your shins are pressed into your thighs from how your legs are folded. her eyes flutter shut at the warmth of the spot, palm smoothing over your skin as it roves higher up your thigh. the prick of your hair tickles against her skin, and her fingers curl, digging into the plush of your thighs. she bites her lip at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel those thighs in all kinds of ways. under her tongue, lapping at the innermost spot. around her head, as her tongue licks up those folds she’s thought of so many times, usually against her will.

she nips at your bottom lip lightly, and grunts when your hips buck forward. the layers of heavy, wet fabric dim any friction it could give her, but knowing you felt pleasured enough to move in such a way sends a wave of satisfaction rolling through her.

“did you like that?” she murmurs against your lips, not giving you a moment to respond before gently biting on your bottom lip again.

you whimper. your hips flail again and her hands fly to grip them, squeezing into the soft flesh. “do that more,” she rasps.

your face morphs into a quizzical stare. “I… do what?”

she swallows. “move like that again. if it’s okay.”

you moan, and the noise shoots straight down to her center. “it’s more than okay.”

your hips start moving again, and lee’s head hangs back, her breaths becoming shallow as she watches you grind your hips back and forth, clutching onto her shoulders. you’re clearly enjoying the pressure it’s giving you, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as sighs drift through it. lee just sits, settling into the couch and watching the way you move. your bra is still visible to her, and your nipples poke out. she feels a desperation overtake her at the sight, wanting nothing more than to rip these layers off and have you ride her dildo like that while she puts her mouth on you.

her hands clutch your hips harder, pulling you forward and away on her lap, helping you ride it. you cry out at the newfound pace, palms flat against her stomach as you let her control your movements. “fuck, lee, feels so good.”

“keep going,” she encourages, nails digging into your skin. an animalistic part of her hopes she leaves shapes of crescents in your skin. she wants to mark you up, show everyone you’re all hers. she doesn’t even know if you are, but amongst all the hazy pleasure, she doesn’t care. in this moment you are, and she wants something to show for it.

✩

the phone suddenly rings, the blaring noise making her jerk under you. you also start, your back tilting a bit too much for her liking, and she quickly presses her palms into the small of it. “are you okay?” she asks, her heart thumping.

you nod, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. “yeah, I’m okay.” the hand that was on her stomach is fisting into her shirt, and lee can’t help but want it there forever.

her eyes dart between you and the phone. it could be her mom. it could be an emergency. she pats your thigh, lips pressing into a tight smile. “um, I need to…”

“yeah, yeah,” you breathlessly say, gingerly climbing off of her and sitting on the couch. she immediately feels the coldness of her damp clothes at the lack of you, and with an embarrassing amount of longing, she walks to the phone and answers it.

“hello?”

“lee?”

she clears her throat, an irrational part of her wondering if her mom could sense what she was doing. she tries to adjust her voice accordingly. “yeah?”

“are you okay?”

“yes, mom, I’m fine.” her voice takes on a heightened edge of exasperation, realizing what the call was about. it was like protocol at this point – every few weeks, especially during finals season, when lee tended to forget about calls, her mom would call her to check in. lee knows it’s not a bad gesture. but, she also knows the calls come from a deep lack of trust for the outside world, a lack that has held lee back for years and has added to the layers of tension between them. it’s a lack that sometimes, truthfully, irritates her. and right now, it and its resulting call have interrupted her time with you.

she speaks to her mom for a few minutes, and she knows she sounds more urgent than usual, fingers itching to end the call. when her mom asks that usual question, she tries not to glance at you.

finally, she ends the call. and is immediately hit with a wave of guilt for how she spoke. it’s not like she gets to talk to her mom often.

she sighs, then turns back to you.

–

lee pads over and carefully sits on the couch. this time, it’s in the center cushion, right next to you. your face breaks into a smile and yoy shift closer, tossing a leg over hers and draping yourself over her. her arm easily comes to rest on your back, a smooth, effortless gesture that has your stomach whirring.

“was everything okay?” you ask, dotting kisses along her jaw.

a soft grunt comes from the back of her throat, and you bite back a smirk. “yeah. she was just checking in.”

“you sounded impatient on the phone.”

she hesitates, glancing down at you. “I was.”

“I know, but you know, we have all the time in the world. you only have so many minutes on the phone with her,” you gently remind her, pressing another soothing kiss to melt away any burn your words may carry. you know she has things tough with her mom, and you’re still not exactly sure how at fault her mom is, though, of course, a part of you is burning with curiosity. but, you also know lee loves her mom. it’s evident to anyone, and hidden in the pockets of her kind gestures that she reserves to privacy. she calls her mom daily, sometimes even more than once, forces herself to visit despite not liking it back home, and some of the first smiles and laughs you ever saw of hers were solely when she was talking to her mom. there’s a soft underbelly there, lingering beneath the harsh trauma and experiences she’s been through.

you pull away, hoping your words didn’t upset her or seem overbearing. but, she’s only staring down at your hand, which rests on her thigh, eyebrows slightly scrunched in focus. after a moment, she nods with pursed lips. “I know. I’ll do better next time.”

you kiss her cheek, laying your head back on her shoulder. “she seems to dote on you.”

lee’s chin rests on top of your head. “yeah, she does.” the words are hushed, as though she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“and you adore her too, don’t you?”

she stiffens under your arms, her blinks becoming faster. her gaze shifts to you, and you hold it, raising a hand and smoothing your thumb over brown the spots on her face. after a moment, she says, voice low, “yeah. I do.”

you hum and lay on her chest. for some reason, it feels nice. to know how loving of a daughter she is. in a way, it makes you admire her even more.

“and you?” she murmurs. “do you… um, adore yours?” she says adore softly, as though embarrassed to be using so tender a word.

“sometimes.” you fiddle with her t-shirt, feeling unbalanced in answering the question from how much you lean both ways. “sometimes, I look at them, and I see myself in them, and I get why we’re related, how we’re related. and in moments like that, or when we bond or joke, I feel like I could almost call them my friend. but, then, they do something harsh or unfair, and I feel… like, bombarded with the reminder that they’re my parents. and sometimes, it makes me feel stupid, because I feel like a kid again, so small and frustrated.”

“it’s not stupid,” she immediately says. “even I feel… like a kid sometimes with my mom. I think a part of us maybe just reverts back with them.”

“why do you think so?”

you feel her stomach heave beneath your hand. “maybe because since they’re our parents, we always see them as, I don’t know, someone to take care of us. and so we always seek that from them.”

you roll your fist into her shirt. “yeah, maybe.”

she’s silent for a few seconds, then mumbles, “you don’t deserve the harsh parts.”

you rub your head against her, aching from the caring words. “thank you.” after a moment, you ask, “but, it was okay on the phone?”

“it was the same as usual.”

that wasn’t an okay, something you take note of. for all you know, each call could carry something terrible and she’s just accustomed to it – and that’s why she doesn’t call it okay. her calls sound like any other stiff parent-child conversation to you, but still, you’re not sure why that is. just how bad things could be for her. yeah, during the visit to the cherry blossoms, and that night she came back from her mom’s after halloween weekend, she did confide in you about some stuff. but, you feel far from having the entire picture.

you’re about to inquire after it when she tentatively says, “maybe we should talk about what was happening before.”

you swallow hard at her words, slightly surprised at her having been the one to initiate conversation about it. even more apparent is the way you’re throbbing at the reminder of what was happening before her mom had called. god, she held onto you with such a hard, tight grip, dragging you relentlessly. it makes your mind wander to how brutal and unfaltering she’d be in other ways.

you want to ask more about her mom, but refrain. you two have ample opportunity to go back to it in the future, but rare is the opportunity that you both naturally enter into a talk like this.

shifting, you prop yourself up, extending an arm out so it stretches along the couch and behind her head. “yeah.”

she remains silent.

you laugh, leaning a hand over to stroke her hair. “okay, so should I start?”

she glances at you wryly. “sorry.”

you smile, then pause, taking a courage-filled breath before saying. “I… I want to, you know? I want to do it.”

“it?”

you raise an incredulous eyebrow at her.

she shrugs. “I just wanna be sure.”

“fine.” you sigh deeply, then say, trying to ignore the many pauses in between your words, “I want to, you know, have sex.”

her throat bobs, eyes straying to your leg. “I do too.”

it’s almost silly how much you internally brighten at the words. it was pretty obvious from her handsy touches that she definitely wanted something, but to hear her confirm it feels so much more affirming than solely picking up hints that are drawn from touches in the heat of a moment.

“do you want to wait?” you don’t why, it’s probably due to lee’s reserved nature, but part of you feels like she’d be the type of person to want to take things slow.

which is why you’re so surprised when she mumbles, “not really.”

“oh?” you giggle, teasingly running a finger through her hair, which is still thick and damp with water.

she edges her face away, gently grabbing your wrist. “it’s not that surprising.”

“it kind of is! you seemed like a, you know, take-it-slow kind of girl.”

she raises an eyebrow. “is this another ex-catholic joke of yours?”

“no!” you guffaw, shoulders shaking. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you take your time with that stuff.”

she shrugs. “with people I just met, I do. but, we’ve known each other for a while. I already trust you.”

it’s said with such confidence, as though it’s the most natural conclusion in the world. unbeknownst to her, her words have made you feel ascended. “really?”

“yes.”

“okay.” you giggle nervously, fingers going back to her hair, if only to have something to do to distract yourself as you speak. “so, then… we’ll do it?”

“if you want to.”

“I do. do you?”

she nods wordlessly, fingers tapping without rhythm against her knee.

your tone softens. “hey, look at me.”

she does and you feel like her eyes could swallow you whole. something about those dark, wide, brown eyes have you feeling like her gaze is sharp enough to open you and see all the thoughts and words you keep hidden out of fear of driving her away.

you try to hold her gaze, which is so unwavering it makes you feel uneasy. but, not in a way that’s linked to fear. but, rather in a way that makes you feel like the axis of the earth is slightly tilted, like the balance of your body is tossed away, because some sort of world-shattering phenomenon is occurring right before your eyes. you draw in a breath. “it’s just me, okay?”

she shakes her head. “the fact that it’s you is what makes me scared. I want to do right by you.”

“you will just by being there, lee.”

she tilts her head, eyes skeptical.

“it’s true,” you reiterate. “whether or not we click immediately, or take time to adjust, I’ll enjoy it just because it’s you.”

she looks away, eyes flittering about the room. “okay.”

“are you getting shy on me?” you shift closer, the hand in her hair moving to cup the back of her neck. goosebumps immediately rise against the touch of your palm, and you smile.

“no.” the word is said slightly wavering.

you lean your face in, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. “uh huh, you know, that’s the same tone you used when you said you didn’t want to touch me. back at the pizza place.”

her head leans away from you. “it wasn’t.”

“it was,” you whisper, and when she turns back to you for what’s probably going to be another quiet protest, you press a shushing kiss to her mouth. immediately, she returns it, her lips caressing yours as one arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer. it’s a bit ridiculous, considering how much kissing the two of you have already done, but the gesture makes you giddy in knowing she wants you near. maybe wants it so bad that she brings you closer without even thinking of it.

when you part, she pants against your lips, “so, if we both want to, when should we?”

“what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continues, pulling away, her eyebrows knitted, “maybe we should arrange it for a day when we’re both off from work and have no class.”

you burst into laughter. “‘arrange it’? wow, sexy.”

she rolls her eyes. “you know what I mean. we’re both busy, and–”

“let’s do it when it feels natural,” you laugh. “what if we’re not in the mood on the so-called arranged day?”

her tone is flat, pragmatic. “then, we schedule it for another day.”

“no. lee, it’s sex, not a business meeting.”

she looks away with a huff. “it is technically a meeting. of sorts.”

“one where we’re both naked. I don’t know how well that bodes with formality.”

at your teasing tone, she narrows her eyes. “you know, you’re really just extending the time it’ll take for you to find out.”

“as though you could resist me for long.” there’s a certain power you feel in expressing the words, because you know it’s true. you know if perfectly reserved lee harker can’t even keep her word to not touch you because she wants her hands on you that badly, then you can rest assure that she wants you. the surety in which you feel that in this moment is almost unnerving.

but, she doesn’t respond to your teasing. she just sits in silence.

your previous confidence wanes from the emergence of insecurity and worry, your stomach turning in a sickening motion. “sorry, was that too much?”

“what?” her eyes dart up to you, then widen. “no, it wasn’t. I just – I want to ask you something.”

you grip a bit harder at the couch now. “okay?”

“are you, you know, seeing or involved with anyone else?”

your head immediately jerks back at the question. it was the last thing you had expected her to ask, the mere idea of you being with anyone else so unbelievable that it feels like it exists in a reality far beyond the one you’re experiencing with lee. “what, no! of course not. why would you even think that?”

she doesn’t meet your gaze. “I… sorry, I just– we never confirmed what we are. and I know it’s a common practice to, you know… date other people before becoming official.”

you cross your legs on the couch. “not for everyone. not for me. is that – do you want that?” the question makes something sink into your stomach.

she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

you sigh in relief. “good. thank god.”

lee’s lip quirks up, just barely. “did you not like the idea of me seeing someone else?”

you gently push her head into a loll, glaring at her amusement. “don’t be so smug.”

“I’m not.”

“then, what’s that smile on your face for?”

she shrugs. her eyes linger on your face before looking away. “cute.”

your face immediately warms at the compliment. you’re not used to this side of her yet. the side that allows for quiet compliments, sweet mumblings and initiated touches. it still makes you feel windswept, as though her tenderness is a gust knocking you off your feet and into a never ending wormhole of affection. “stop it.”

“it’s just the truth.” her tone is passive as usual, and it makes you even more flustered in a way. she doesn’t say the praise, and state the so-called truth of it, with any embellishment. she says it naturally, with raw honesty. it makes you all the more acutely aware of the fact that she truly thinks of you that way.

you’re still trying to come up with a response when she says, “so, if we’re not official, but we’re only seeing each other… what makes us different than girlfriends?” her voice is low with hesitation, but she eyes you carefully.

you gulp. she’s right, of course she is. you guys aren’t that different from girlfriends at all. you spend so much time together, you kiss, you cuddle, and if your outings just had the label of dates, then you two would be going on dates constantly. but, the idea of actually having the label of girlfriends makes you feel tense in the stomach, as though you’re intentionally tightening your muscles.

“I… I don’t know,” you weakly say.

she purses her lips in contemplation. “I mean, the only thing I can think of is that we haven’t gone through the… procedure of going on dates leading up to an agreement of being girlfriends. but, it feels like we already do that.” she pauses. “unless dates should be different than what we usually do.”

fondness strikes at your heart like a bell. “maybe the only difference is that dates are called ‘dates’?” you’re glad for the momentary shift in conversation from the word “girlfriend.”

“maybe. then, is that the only thing stopping us from being girlfriends?” she swallows hard. “just beginning to call the time we spend together ‘dates’?”

you say nothing, a slightly nauseating feeling churning in your stomach. you hate it. isn’t this what you’ve been wanting for months now? for her to be yours, only yours, to be the one she can rely on, or call when scared, and bored, and happy? you’ve been wanting, wanting and wanting, and now, you’re dangling on the border of having, and you just want to run away from that edge, feeling like stepping over will lead to a steep, dark drop.

“what is it?” she gently asks. you look up to find her staring intently.

when you say nothing, eyes downcast, you watch the hand in her lap twitch, lift and lower back once, then finally reach out, tangling your hand in hers.

she says nothing. she simply waits. it kills you that she has it in her to wait, just for your sake, in what feels like a deeply momentous event.

“I-I’m not ready,” you whisper. “to be your girlfriend yet.”

her hand suddenly tightens. you can’t bear to look at her.

“okay.”

you slip your hand from hers, and stumble into a standing position. “I’m going to shower.”

all she gives you is a nod.

–

lee’s actually thankful for finals this week. because at least it gives her a distraction from you and how things have been at home.

it’s not like she’s angry at you for having said no to her, well, in hindsight, not-so-subtle suggestion. but, her mind and stomach are an uncomfortable mix of emotions. if there’s anyone she’s angry at, it’s mostly herself. she wishes she hadn’t been so lacking in subtlety. maybe now, you feel awkward with her because you suspect she’s trying to push you into an official relationship. she shuts her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. what if she’s now come off as forceful, or too much?

she’s not sure as to your reasons for saying no. she knows you not being ready is the obvious answer, but she’s not exactly sure why you’re not ready. perhaps it’s too soon? you two had your first kiss a month ago, and while that feels like a long time to her, perhaps it might not be to you. perhaps you want to spend more time in this vague, in-between state before adding a label. but, why should a label mean so much? why should it carry such a weight?

you two already act like a couple, so why does the addition of the title girlfriend matter so much? it’s just a word. ten letters, two syllables – she doesn’t know why society places such a weight in its connotations. a prickly, gnawing sense of frustration itches at her. she doesn’t get it. maybe she’s the one lacking some important piece of knowledge regarding the dating scene. but, it makes no sense to her. you’re content to act like her girlfriend, but to actually be called it is too much? she feels a twinge of guilt at her own emotions. she knows she can’t force you to feel ready, and even if she did possess such an ability, she’d never want to wield it on you. she wants you to choose this, choose her. but, to not be chosen leaves her feeling with a kind of insecurity she hadn’t anticipated.

because does your hesitation have to do with her? has she been too distant and unclear in her emotions? have her reservations made you question her ability to be a sufficient partner?

she wants to rattle her head and rid herself of these thoughts. she should be studying, and instead, her mind is flooding with why, why, why about you, herself, both of you together. she knows logically, her own guesses will never match to the reality of what you feel, and can only take her so far. but, she’s filled with fear over approaching this with you. your answers might be more difficult to bear, and she’s not sure she can handle a shocking or painful revelation.

she progresses through the week fine. long, tired hours of studying keep her up late into the night, tucked into the living room where her desk is and flipping through pages. it’s easy for her to get swept up like this, especially if she enjoys the content. as a child, her time and effort for school ranged based on the class, with her most liked classes being those she could pour over for hours, and the ones she wasn’t drawn to, like math, being the kind she pointedly avoided. the latter would lead to a lot of late afternoons spent with homework sheets discarded to the side of her desk, her small hands devoting hours to drawing or peeling through picture books. it was easy to discreetly engage in such rituals with how often she was alone at home. her mother hadn’t even discovered her decline of grades until weeks after lee’s teacher had first notified her to return her calls. in the whirlwind of hours at the local hospital, lee’s mom had easily missed and neglected the crumpled up note next to the phone.

as a child, lee hadn’t minded the solitude that much. it would usually only last a few hours after school, and she liked the time to herself. similar to her feelings as an adult, she didn’t enjoy the process of conversing with others. even on the days her mom had her babysat, lee preferred to walk the grounds of their home by her lonesome, or watch television. just anything to be alone and have ample silence for imagining herself in the latest film she had seen. and most of the time, whether someone was watching her or she was alone, she didn’t even miss her mom that much. sometimes, yes, but she had adjusted to the isolated existence fast, and it just became second nature to associate home with an empty space.

the only times she had really felt a craving for her mom were on the days her mom was at work for longer than usual. those hours of solitude melted into loneliness, and she would become acutely aware of just how silent the house felt. she would often grow unsettled and anxious in those lonely evenings, the long shadows of the trees creeping through the windows and the branches looking like spindly fingers chasing after her. in those evenings, she missed her mom. some days now, she still felt like that.

but, things were different in how she proceeded with those feelings. she’s sure her mom would still try and comfort her to the best of her ability if lee ever came to her. but, lee hadn’t been vulnerable with her for a long time. not since her mom had started to push her farther and farther from their home, both with the slow decrease of space and the insistence and paranoia.

lee has always wondered what her own home will look like in the future. the idea of it becoming her mom’s home is one that part of her still fears. so many people turn into their parents, replicate their habits. though, at the same time, she doesn’t even know if such a fear has any real value. to her, it feels like the mess of her mom’s home has embedded such a need in her for space and organization that it’d be impossible to repeat her mom’s mistakes. but, still, the irrational fear lingers.

for the longest time, she envisioned any future home of hers to possess only her, the sole owner and guest. a romantic relationship, a family – they’ve never been huge concerns of hers. she’s usually been content to consume her time with her academics and working towards her goal. the only time in her life where she was truly attached to the idea of dating was when she had first realized her attraction to girls in high school. at that time, she ached for, and couldn’t think of anything but, the touch of a girl, the love of one. she just wanted to experience it, at least once. and she did, and it was just as intense as she had anticipated it’d be. but, after high school, she had become determined to do well in her studies, mostly content with the singular romantic experience she had had. she had experienced love once, and that was satisfactory, since at least she knew, then, what it was like. well, satisfactory most of the time. not always.

now, though, she can’t get a certain image out of her head when she thinks of what a future home would look like. it’s a shadow by her side, and its figure holds an all too familiar shape.

she gets through the week. it’s difficult, and filled with hours of exhaustion and stress, but she gives it her all, the pressure of this being her last semester placing a heavy weight on her conscience. she wants to prove that her education, her completion of these four years, were worthwhile. she wants to prove it to herself, and to her mother, that she left oregon for a worthy reason.

she wants you to see this, too. it feels new, the way you now linger at the edge of her subconscious in ways you didn’t used to. now, when she does something, she hopes you’ll approve. when she sees something she finds interesting, she wishes she had a way to send you a picture of it. she wishes for you and wants you in all these quiet, secretive ways. you’ve made a space for yourself in the corner of her mind that had been empty of contact for years before.

you’ve also had a large amount of work too, she knows. you have two exams, one group project that you’ve been complaining about the entire semester, and a graded class debate on friday morning that you invited her to weeks ago. she’s barely seen you this week. though she knows it’s because you’ve been cramming in your bedroom, part of her is gnawed with the deep fear that you’re avoiding her. that she did too much, and is now driving you away. she wishes you would just talk to her. even on the day you confessed to not feeling ready to be her girlfriend, you left her there, showered, then remained in your bedroom for the rest of the night. the next morning, you two drank coffee together, and you struck up conversation with her as usual, albeit more stiff than usual. and before you left, you had pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

and just like that, the week had proceeded in a series of short-lived conversations, mostly about classes, and brief touches. she’s tantalizingly close to the end of her entire college career, and she can’t even feel relieved.

all of this leads to the uncharacteristic decision to break the silence of her study session with amaya and maria, who each showcase some variety of a flinch at the sound of lee’s voice. she’s not one to open up like this, so it takes a few pauses for her to quietly reveal what’s been happening.

when she does, she can’t help but hesitantly glance towards maria. though both of them had been pleasantly surprised weeks ago when lee had revealed your guys’ shift in dynamic, maria still had her qualms with the situation. lee worries that this will only increase her sense of doubt.

thankfully, such a thing does not happen. instead, which actually might be worse, what happens is that maria begins to question you as a person.

“like, are you really sure you wanna be with someone who spends a week not even talking to you about this stuff? stuff that’s important.”

lee fidgets with the ripped strings of paper sticking out from her notebook’s spirals. she didn’t intend for this to happen. she doesn’t want her friends looking down on you, or doubting you. she knows you, she knows you’re kind and considerate. but, she also knows that’s not enough to provide you guys with a lasting relationship. you’ve always been able to talk to her, why are you being so different now?

when the silence lapses for too long, amaya clears her throat, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. “okay, listen, I think one screw up is allowed before we get the pitchforks.” she turns to lee with a gentle smile. “I like you two together, okay? and you guys have a solid friendship going on, even beneath all the mushy stuff. use that to your advantage. talk, and make it clear you don’t like this way of handling things.”

maria ducks her head down, mumbling, “I think that should’ve already been self-explanatory, but okay.”

lee’s jaw tenses. while she’s slightly annoyed with maria, she can’t say she blames her, which somehow, exasperates her even more. she’d also have some reservations towards a person if they were to treat maria or amaya like this. she knows it’s not right of you to do this to her. and it causes a hot pool of frustration to drip into her stomach, because she wants everything to feel right. and everything did feel right up until this point.

and she misses you.

–

you’re tip-toeing around the apartment, carefully placing your plate in the sink then slipping on your sneakers with slow, focused precision. once this is done, you grab your backpack and wrap your fingers around the doorknob.

“where are you going?”

you fucking leap, lee’s voice scares you out of your flesh and bone that bad. “lee, jesus christ, announce yourself!”

“in our own apartment?”

you roll your eyes, though you can’t bite back the smile the words our apartment ignites. it makes you feel like the two of you are living together – actually living together, by choice and with the desire for it to be permanent.

her eyes scan you. “anyways, I’m just here because I thought you wanted me to come for your debate.”

your shoulders deflate at the revelation. it’s not that you don’t want her to come. of course you do – this entire week, you’ve been dousing yourself in buckets of self-pity over the fact that your own stupid behaviour will probably entail her not showing up. and that’s not even the worst of it. you’ve felt like complete shit all week, avoiding her after dropping such an abrupt, harsh confirmation of not being ready to be her girlfriend yet. well, maybe it wasn’t so harsh, but to you, it feels like the worst possible thing you could’ve said at that moment. maybe you’d be less torn about it if you had actually sat down and explained your mindset to her. but, instead, you had scurried away like an idiot, leaving her alone with what was probably an anxious toss and turn of thoughts. and then, what did you do all week? avoid her. you had been overcome with piles upon piles of work, and to say you had been overwhelmed would be an understatement. the idea of talking to her about why you had rejected her advances only accentuated your stress, and you had neither the time nor emotional management necessary for such a talk amidst the finals of your last semester. and you were scared to explain yourself and potentially face disappointment or rejection. and so, you had opted for avoiding her.

you wince. you should’ve fucking told her all of this, all of the reasons for avoiding her like the plague. you should’ve immediately confided in her rather than draw this shit out for a week. you were devastated weeks ago when she had given you a distant greeting the morning after your kiss, and that had lasted just five minutes. she’s been receiving your distance for a week now – you can’t bear to think of how it’s made her feel.

that’s why her coming along to your class now does nothing to quell your worries, and only unfurls a very heavy bout of agony. because you know you don’t deserve this from her today – this support, this encouragement. not after how astrayed you’ve been all week.

you want to throw yourself at her feet, beg for forgiveness. but, you can’t, you’re already running late from all of this staring.

“you don’t have to, lee.”

her jaw twitches.

“no, no,” you rush to explain, stomach plummeting. “please, no, I just mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, you don’t have to just because of obligation or your promise. I’ll understand if you, you know, would prefer not to.” you’ll be heartbroken too, but you haven’t earned the right to be heartbroken.

“I’ll come.”

you shakily sigh, nodding. “okay.” you want to hold her hand to the subway station, you want to pull her by that devastatingly handsome short-sleeved button up and kiss her thank you. but, you can’t. and not just because of the time constraint.

the subway ride is quiet, intercepted by weak attempts at conversation, like asking her how her exams went. she quietly answers, without detail. it feels like it’s fall again.

however, the throbbing, burning heat of summer smacks you right across the face during the last portion of your debate.

it started civil enough. it’s not the most formal debate, despite its inclusion of an introduction and conclusion, and the professor is mostly using it as a way to assess students’ digestion of the course content, as well as their ability to apply it. she’s spent the past three days inviting two groups, each made up of ten people, into her classroom at different assigned time slots. for each group of opposing teams, she’s given them a question, and for two hours, the debate was to take place, the last twenty minutes being free reign discussion. it was all calm and everyone offered research-based, backed up answers to the question of if all sexual attraction towards women is inherently objectifying.

that is until sandra, a girl designated to the side of “Yes” directs a sharp, pointed look in your direction, saying, “this is exactly why lesbians should have their own sub-feminist group. the mainstream feminism movement doesn’t want anything to do with more talk and involvement of sex.”

immediately, someone in the seat behind you jumps in. “that’s so archaic, though! we’re not in the seventies anymore, we need to accept lesbians in the movement.”

“besides,” you add, not before shooting the person a thankful smile, “we can’t just ignore sex as an entire concept. it exists, and we can’t just not address it, whether it be heterosexual or lesbian sex. and also, it’s not fair to inherently tie lesbianism to sex in a way heterosexuality isn’t.” your stomach begins to stir, prickling with annoyance at her words. she can’t choose the side she’s advocating for, sure, but there’s no need to bring up lesbianism in such a… pointed way.

“well, that’s what it is, isn’t it?” sandra scoffs, and you shift in your seat. it no longer feels like this is just an objective, detached form of arguing on her end. you glance warily at lee, who meets your gaze from the corner of her eye, lips pursed. “lesbianism includes the sexualization of women – women who might be part of the feminist movement. why should we put those women in the uncomfortable position of having their own peers within the movement sexualizing them?”

“you do realize lesbians aren’t dogs or some shit, right?” you snap.

your professor calls out your name in the tone of a warning, and you suck in a deep breath. under the table, you feel a hand press against your knee. it’s lee. with a gentle squeeze from her, some of your embarrassment simmers down. you steady your voice, then proceed. “lesbians aren’t just lusting over every woman they see. and even then, you cannot compare the attraction lesbians feel to that of men who have, well, been men their entire lives and have grown up with the social conditions and expectations surrounding men’s attraction to women.”

“how? sexual attraction is sexual attraction, and anyone who is attracted to women is influenced by a culture that objectifies women.”

you grind your teeth together, your stomach beginning to churn harder as the anger within you builds. “yes, but lesbians have had their own experiences with gender that differ from those of cisgender men. so, the sense of entitlement and allowance that cisgender men feel in objectifying women isn’t there for lesbians.”

“cisgender?” sandra’s eyebrows knit together, and even her expression of confusion manages to possess a shadow of condescension. as though you’re the stupid one for having used a word she doesn’t understand.

“dana defosse, university of minnesota? it’s a word meant to describe the opposite of ‘transgender.’ that is, someone who is assigned a certain gender at birth and continues to identify as it for their entire life.” you force a sticky sweet tone to your voice, desperately hoping she feels at least a twinge of stupidity at your explanation. next to you, you hear a quiet huff from lee, and your mouth nearly twitches.

her eyes flick away. “fine.” you sigh, hoping this is a sign of relenting, but nope, she carries on a millisecond later. “but, this doesn’t change my mind. especially with the involvement of bdsm, and more lesbians who dress, like, you know… men, it feels like there’s just a mimicry happening of heterosexuality, as well as aggressive sexual behaviours being incorporated, both of which mean more objectification of women.”

her second point is accompanied with a glance at lee, whose fingers flex against your knee. she’s evidently nervous, or at the very least, uneasy. a sense of protectiveness spikes in you. how dare she put lee, sweet fucking lee, on the spot like this in front of all of these people? how dare she do it at all? your voice begins to waver. “‘masculinity’ and ‘man’ isn’t the same thing. masculinity on a person who isn’t a man doesn’t mean some kind of, like, pretending or copying is happening. even the concept of masculinity itself is subjective and dependent on culture – it barely exists as an objective concept. like… it’s just clothes and behaviours, why do we need to define it by gender and police who can and can't do it? why can't a woman do something just because it fits into what western society deems as 'masculine'? isn’t that against our values as feminists?”

strands of hair move as she cocks her head. “yes, and so is the objectification of women.”

you release a scoff that nearly squeaks with exasperation. “I’m not objectifying women just by being gay.”

she splutters. “I-I’m not saying you do. but, your chances of doing so are higher, and just – that’s why. that’s why there should be a separation between lesbian feminists and straight ones.”

“the chances are not higher!” you gasp out, flattening your palms on your desk. “yes, there’s romantic and sexual attraction, but my experiences with my own gender has earned me the ability to not objectify women in the way a cisgender, straight man is taught to.”

behind sandra, a guy laughs and tosses his arms up. “can you just stop acting like because you’re gay, your attraction is holier than a man’s or some shit?”

“I’m not saying it is–” you try to interject, your body beginning to slowly rise with a harsh dance of anxiety, embarrassment and anger. did you really come off as thinking yourself superior? was everyone judging you right now? the uncertainty begins to trickle in.

“yes, you are,” he continues, laughing. it makes you feel ridiculous in front of all these people, but also indignant that he even forced his way in in the first place. “attraction is attraction, wanting to fuck someone is wanting to fuck someone. it’s not different.”

“thank you!” sandra says, her voice high with an annoyingly relieved tone.

you fumble, now feeling the weight of the class’ eyes on you. when it was one on one, that was one thing, but now with the addition of someone new trying to prove you wrong, you’re overcome with a flood of inadequacy. and the longer the silence drifts into and expands within the classroom, like an infected wart, the more you feel your face heat up in humiliation. your mind feels like it can’t be grasped, your thoughts emptied of what else to say.

“okay, well, let’s call it a day,” the professor says, standing from where she sat perched on her desk. she claps her hands together. “great work students.”

you feel shame at your lack of a rebuttal. were the other people in the class, the people who felt defended by your sentiments, disappointed in you? were they pitying you? embarrassed for you? were people really thinking you sounded as haughty and superior as that guy framed you as? as the stinging, hot stab of anxiety and flusteredness rips through you, you whisper to lee, “I-I need to get out of here.”

without waiting for her response, you shakily grab for your backpack, and rush out of the classroom, beelining to the bathroom.

overwhelmed with emotions, you brace your hands on the sink, crying silently. the heat of the debate, the isolation of feeling two people jump to fight you back, the knowledge you ended the debate with nothing to say to defend yourself or the other queer people in your class – it suddenly takes its toll on you, and you feel your body get heavier with it, begging for release. the tears slip down your face, and you quietly gasp out through them.

moments later, the door creaks open with hesitation, ending with the soft click of the lock. you know it can’t be just any regular student walking in for a bathroom break.

lee quietly approaches you, her bangs swept messily along her forehead, chest rising more than usual. she drops her backpack to the ground, watching you carefully as you stare back with tear-soaked cheeks.

“why didn’t you defend me?” is the first thing you say. it’s stupid, it’s childish, but in the throb of your anger and humiliation, you want to lash out and release it some more.

she blinks at you. “it’s a class debate. I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know if you’d want me to.” she looks away. “sorry.”

what is wrong with you? your body floods with hatred over what you just said. as if you have any right to make demands with how you’ve behaved with her this week. “no, no, I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, lee. I’m just stressed and upset from the whole thing. and I just wish it could’ve been stopped earlier. but, it’s not your fault.”

“no. I should have said something. you were being treated badly. even if it was under the… guise of an academic discussion. the setting or circumstance shouldn’t have mattered.” silence hangs for a moment, the only noise her fingers tapping against her thigh. “I’m sorry.”

you gulp. “it’s okay.”

“I’ll do better.” her voice lowers. “it did make me angry. I don’t want you thinking it didn’t.” her dark eyes rise to you.

you flinch. you only now realize she’s never seen you cry like this. not truly. it’s only been moments of tears during a movie or a song, but never full on sobbing like this, let alone for something that happened to you. you want to look away, the uncertainty of what she feels about you in this state gnawing at the edge of your mind. but, more than that is your desire to let her see you in this way. totally exposed and a complete mess. you want her to know and witness this side of you, and you want her to understand it, and with that, understand you fully. most of all, you want to bask in her acceptance and comfort.

you’re left wondering if she’ll give you that for a few moments, the both of you quiet. but, then, her lips press together and she walks over, stopping when she’s behind you, chest brushing along your back. she wraps her arm around your waist, hugging you to her, and dips her chin down, resting it atop your shoulder. “are you okay?” she murmurs.

you cry harder at her concern, one hand reaching up to wipe the tears away. you don’t deserve this. this gentle, tender treatment from her. but, god, it feels so good to receive it. in spite of the tears, your stomach flips at the feeling of her strong, firm arm pressing into you. and her warm words, deepend by gentleness and the lowering in volume, make your shoulders feel weightless. the care in the gesture makes you soften to water, and you want to melt away into the fabric of her shirt, the touch of her hands.

“I… you’re not upset with me? over this week?” you ask, voice shuddering through the quiet sobs.

her arm tightens around you, thumb beginning to stroke your stomach over the fabric of your shirt. “I’m… confused. and I was a bit frustrated. I didn’t know what was happening.” she sighs. “sorry.”

“no!” your voice raises, though its edges are still raspy with tears. “please, don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s been horrible. I’m sorry.” the memory of how you’ve avoided her this week when she was left in the dark and probably needed your support most (for more than one reason), adds layer upon layer of guilt to your heart. you look into your guys’ shared reflection, her eyes downcast. what worsens everything is the knowledge that you had done something to truly frustrate her this week. being on the receiving end of any negative emotion of hers makes you feel crumbled to the ground. “lee, I-I’m so sorry.”

she nods. “we can talk about it later. right now, I just–”

“no.” your voice is so, so shaky, but you push forward. “please. you deserve an apology.”

her eyes tentatively raise to yours, meeting you in the reflection. she tucks her chin deeper into the slope of your neck. “I know.”

you awkwardly shuffle to turn around, her arm continuing to wrap around your body as you do so. you hesitate, then raise your hands to her shoulders, which tense momentarily. god, how long had it been since you touched her like this? it’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity. “I’m so sorry, lee. I’m sorry that I said what I said with no explanation, no comfort, and just avoided you all week.” you pause in to suck a deep breath, throat dry. “I was just overwhelmed with work, and knew I couldn’t handle a conversation like this, and I was scared of what you’d think of me when I explained myself. but, I should’ve told you all that. I should’ve explained myself right away. rather than avoid you. I-I’m sorry.” recalling everything you did, vocalizing it without any mincing, makes your gut twist with shame at how you behaved. you, the person who is supposed to not hurt her.

she can’t even meet your eyes, dark brown orbs pinned to your shoulder as her eyebrows furrow, clearly mulling over your words. her lips part, close, and then they open to say, “I wish you had just talked to me.”

“I know. I should’ve.”

her throat moves as she swallows. “please, don’t do that. I don’t want secrets with you.”

your head bobs so hard your head aches. “I promise, never again.” you reach up, cupping her face, thumb tracing over the pimple that’s recently sprouted near her lip. you hadn’t even noticed it, it’s been so long since you’ve explored her face like this.

your thoughts on her face shatter into fragments when she finally looks up, and her eyes are coated in a sheen layer of liquid.

“oh, lee,” you whisper, regret twisting and yanking at you in the most painful of ways. “I’m so sorry.”

she says nothing, her eyes simply flickering over your face. when she blinks, a stray tear falls.

you immediately pull her in, mouth pressing against the drop, mumbling, “I’m so sorry.” you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging her into a hug. her other arm lifts to wrap around your waist, clutching on tightly. “baby, I’m so sorry.”

she makes a small noise against your neck, and you wonder if it’s a sob until starting with the realization of what you just called her. your face warms. it just came out, without you even processing it. the tenderness and protection jolting through because of her tears, the guilt and longing of knowing it’s because of you, because of the absence you drew out that instilled such a want in you – all of it makes you want to be the softest you can be with her. “sorry, I–”

“it’s okay,” she whispers.

you say nothing, reaching up to stroke the hair of her long, brown ponytail, the strands silky smooth. when you feel a cold wetness on your neck, where her face is buried against, your fingers tighten against her shoulders, pressing her in closer. sweet lee. sensitive lee.

you decide to tell her. “sweet girl,” you whisper against her head, rubbing her back in what you hope is a soothing motion for her. the guilt tears at you, the embarrassment at your avoidance claws at you, but what rips through all those feelings, what lathers a soothing balm on them, is your desire to tend to her, be there for her.

the desire for it nearly rips you apart.

–

lee feels embarrassed at being so doted upon, but she can’t tear herself from it. it feels too good to be under your hand’s gentle caresses, your lips sweet presses. it’s been an hour since your class, and still, her face is shoved deep into that spot on your neck, your legs entwined in her bed. you’re on your back, while she lays on her side, leg tossed over yours and arm slung around your waist. your hand continues to comb through her hair, soft words and kisses falling against her forehead as you sweep past her bangs and dote on her. she nearly shivers at the affection. she always thought she could live without this, do without it – but, now that you’ve given it to her, with such unadulterated and relentless pouring, she doesn’t think she can ever be taken away from it. the more you give to her, the more she craves. maybe she’s always craved it – this touch, this attention. maybe she just did a good job at ignoring the lack of it until this point. either way, she’s content to lay here, surrounded by the musky scent of your sweat.

“are you okay?” she can’t help but feel guilty for the conversation of what happened in your debate having shifted to what happened this past week.

“what do you mean?”

“because of the… class discussion.”

she feels you shift under her arm. “I am now. I was just embarrassed before for having ended it with nothing to say. I just felt so, like, confused? I just couldn’t think of anything – there was too much pressure from two people joining against me, everyone watching. I felt like such an idiot.”

lee sighs softly, trailing her fingertips along your shoulder. “you’re not. an idiot, I mean. I understand that feeling. it’s hard to… think on the spot with all that attention.” she sighs. she never would’ve been able to do it herself. if it were her, she probably would’ve frozen on the spot from all the watchful gazes. anything she would’ve been able to offer would have been the result of extensive prior practice. “you did good. really good. I was – still am – really impressed.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you pat down her head with a soft smile, and lee’s eyes skip away. after a moment, you say, “I also was worried. like, am I really objectifying girls? am I really sounding like I have some superiority complex to say I don’t?”

lee immediately shakes her head, eyebrows furrowing in concern. she doesn’t want you thinking such a thing. for months, she’s been admiring you for how open and unapologetic you are regarding your sexual orientation, and the idea of your confidence waning because of today heightens her regret for not having spoken up. “no. everything you said was fair. how we view and treat women is influenced by, you know, social expectations. and our own experiences. there’s clearly a leniency, and almost expectation, towards – what was the term? – cisgender men’s objectification of women. a leniency that we aren't given. that’s more than apparent.” she looks up at you, hoping you know just how true her words are. “you were right. and objectification has some willingness involved in the act of doing it. it’s knowing you’re taking away someone’s humanity and only caring about… your own self-fulfillment. it’s harder to do that when you’ve dealt with it yourself in the past, and know what it feels like. as well as when society doesn’t give you tolerance for doing it.”

you seem hesitant, your eyes flicking away, mouth twisting in deep thought. “you’re not just saying it for my sake?”

“no. I’d tell you if I thought you were wrong.” and it’s true. lee’s never been one to lie, let alone be good at it. even if she’s afraid to, she’s more than okay with being truthful. she doesn’t understand why she’d hide her own opinions when someone is asking her a question to evidently seek out her thoughts.

this seems to ease you, for she feels you soften under her arm. a small smile creeps onto your face, and lee relaxes at the sight of it. “thank you.”

she simply hums and presses her face back to your neck. it’s nothing, really. she likes being there for you, and doing something to actually help when you need it. she usually gravitates towards doing a silent gesture, one that can easily be missed, or melt into the background. but, she knows you. you need words right now, clearcut assurance. and she’ll give it to you. she’d talk for hours if it meant you got comforted by it.

“listen, let’s talk about… the other thing. why I said I’m not ready last week.”

lee freezes. she inhales a deep breath. take one, take another, then another. her mind is whirling with the possibilities of what you’ll say – is it her? is she the problem?

your voice is hushed. she can sense the worry you, too, must be feeling. “can we – can, like, I talk to you like my friend? not as my future girlfriend.”

lee’s stomach surges with hope at the use of ‘future girlfriend.’ she tries to pointedly ignore it, focusing on your request instead. she isn’t sure what acting like your friend entails. she never stopped being your friend, she still is. there’s just another thing added to it. her head raises from the warm cushion of your neck, the slope containing a sanctuary. “so, should I move…?”

you laugh. “no, no. we can be friends who cuddle.”

“we were never friends who cuddled.”

“well, then, let’s play pretend.”

lee smiles softly, then shuffles into a sitting position, rising to brace her back against the wall her bed is pushed to, crossing her legs.

still on your back, you whine, “hey, I said let’s cuddle!”

she brushes her fingers through your hair. “I want to see you when we talk about this.” she doesn’t trust herself to figure out the subliminal meanings of your words based on auditory signals alone. she wants to be able to see your face and body, and detect if you need her. as overly observant as that sounds.

you look away, pouting. “makes things a bit more nerve-wracking for me.”

“should I not…?”

“no, no!” your eyes flash to hers, widened. “please, no, stay.”

she rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips tilting up. you could be so confusing sometimes.

“okay, I’ll just – I guess I’ll just dive right in.” you suck in a deep breath, and it might as well have been an inhale stolen from lee’s throat, for she feels herself still completely. “it’s just– I’m scared, lee. not to be your girlfriend – I want to be your girlfriend. but, I’m scared of us… breaking up.” at the two words, lee fidgets, picking at her pants. the thought of you two ending what you have, in any capacity, with any label, floods her with an immediate pull of resistance. “I’m scared of us spending months, years, together, then all of it ending in, like, heartbreak. I’m terrified of it, lee.”

she pauses, the gears in her mind spinning as she digests your words. she understands that fear. the mere mention of a breakup has her feeling thrown from balance, and you two have only been… involved for a month. but, she doesn’t understand why it would cause you to resist being her girlfriend when you two have already been romantic. “if we ended things right now, though, wouldn’t it already hurt? wouldn’t it already be a breakup – or at least feel like one? how would being my girlfriend change that?”

“I know.” you sigh, hands twisting together. “I know it makes no sense. if we left things tomorrow morning, I’d be a fucking mess. it’d be horrible. but, I don’t know, the words, the labels, it makes it feel like a bigger deal to me. if we’re girlfriends, rather than in some weird, middle sort of space, there are these expectations from ourselves and others to stay together. and I feel like those expectations make ending things feel all the more terrible. do you get what I mean?”

her hand continues stroking your hair. while she knows the labels hold weight in society, and therefore, possess meaning in people’s minds, she doesn’t feel they’re so important that they will be one of the main contributors towards your pain. “I get it. but, I don’t agree. at least not for me. I think what’d make a breakup hard is what we have. other people’s expectations resulting from our labels can cause embarrassment during a breakup, maybe, but I don’t think it’ll cause a lot of pain. I think the only time expectations will cause us pain is when it comes to things we also would’ve wanted for the future. and those things we’ll want regardless, even if we aren’t girlfriends.”

“yeah.” for a long moment, you’re silent, and lee’s fingers fidget faster in your hair, anticipation swimming in her. “I guess another thing is, I don’t know, being called a ‘girlfriend’ makes me feel like things are more serious, more structured, so I’m scared that because of that, a breakup will feel more severe, more horrible.”

“I’m not going to say that that word is just a word. I mean, it is, technically. but, I know it gives us structure, a way to identify ourselves to each other and other people.” she sighs, shaking her head. “but, I don’t think it’s what’ll cause the most pain. if we were girlfriends, but totally estranged, a breakup wouldn’t feel as… painful as us not being girlfriends, but, well, close. close like we are now.”

for lee, your experience isn’t one she’s accustomed to. whenever she’s dated someone, she’s always been so certain of her choice that calling them her significant other never felt daunting. perhaps this was due to how particular she was with selecting a romantic partner, as well as the fact that any pursuits she made were committed to with the utmost patience, since to move slowly was her preference and she’s never been one to feel romantic notions quickly.

maybe there was a desperation to it, as well. the fact that connection came so rarely to her that once it was in sight, she grasped at it with single-minded loyalty and strength. maybe her lack of connection is what fuelled her ability to commit, what pushed her to throw herself all the way in before someone could leave her. the notion is one that makes her slightly nauseated.

when you’re quiet, furrowed eyebrows directed at the wall, she gulps. she’s not always the best when it comes to giving comfort – it only feels easier with you because of how long the two of you have known each other. but, that doesn’t mean she’s confident in doing so. not many people have relied on her for comfort in her life. and not many times has she felt sure in her ability to match up to the task. but, with you, she feels like she can rely on her instincts a bit more – instincts that only exist because she knows you and what helps you. and she knows what you want is honesty.

“I…” she hesitates, wondering if you’d prefer the silence. when you turn to her, eyes blinking, she musters up the courage to say what she wants. “being close to you is what’ll hurt me if we break up, not being called your girlfriend. and the only thing you can do to prevent yourself from getting hurt is eliminating our closeness. not avoiding being called my girlfriend. I’m not telling you what to do – I just mean this is what makes sense of the situation.”

“but, I don’t want that.”

her lips curl at your immediate interjection, trying to avoid the stinging fear within. “I don’t either.”

your voice cracks. “I’m just scared.”

lee’s thumb strokes your forehead. “I know. if something happens, we’ll handle it together, okay? I just…” she peels a strand of hair away, feeling the heaviness of her upcoming vulnerability bear down on her. “I’d rather try and things end, then not try at all and never know.”

you suddenly reach for the hand in your hair, lacing your fingers and hers together. “me too.” your grip squeezes her. “and you were right. about everything. being called girlfriends won’t account for even half of the pain of a breakup. and I don’t want to end this with you, being like this. and it’s not fair to keep it, but not do something we both want.”

lee is silent. she doesn’t know what to say. while part of her is relieved that you don’t seem to intent on ending things after the choice she’s posed, she can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable in the turn this seems to be taking. “I don’t want to only do it because you’re scared of this ending.”

she jerks back when you suddenly shoot up from your lying position, shuffling closer to her, your hands cupping her neck. at the touch, she shivers slightly, trying to stiffen her body so it isn’t obvious. she wraps a loose arm around your waist, pulling you in, wanting you close. you play with the hairs on her neck, gaze unfaltering. “I do want to be your girlfriend. I’ve wanted it for months, lee. I want to call you that, I want you to call me it. I’m only scared of the whole breakup thing. that’s it.”

relief pours through her, and she sighs softly. when you keep watching her with those wide, attentive eyes, she clears her throat, head ducking down. she can’t handle it sometimes – how it feels like you cradle her in your eyes. “do you feel scared still?”

“a bit,” you admit gently. “but, I don’t want it to hold me back. not anymore.” you tug on her hand. “it’s okay, though, if I’m a bit scared at first? I’ll be happy, of course I will, but I’m not sure I’ll just immediately feel less scared right off the bat.”

“and you don’t need to.” she doesn’t expect that your anxieties will vanish overnight, even if your thinking and mindset have shifted. she knows that’s not how it works for her, someone who often takes days before her anxiety wanes over something that has happened. she never expected it to be different for you. “we can handle it together.”

“but, lee, know that I am sure of you. I am so sure, lee. I just – every relationship, every connection, has ended in some form of heartbreak. even when I initiated the end, it still fucking hurt. and I’m scared of going through that with you. especially because with you, it’ll hurt all the more, because I just – I… I like you so much, lee.”

when you finish, you draw in a breath that’s clearly trembling. lee wonders how much courage it took for you to say all this. while she feels a twinge of jealousy over the mention of your past partners, she can’t help but feel some of her nerves wash away under the assurance of your feelings. while she knows that neither of you would be together unless liking one another was involved, your bold, honest declaration of it has her feeling unnerved. she’s not used to this – being on the receiving end of such unabashed affection and want, and she feels a tad pathetic at just how easily she crumbles under the sheer force of it. she’s sure you don’t realize it, but your words, your care, your touches – they have this invisible hold on her, as though there are strings linking her body to all of them, and only you have the power to weave it to your will.

“but, we might not break up,” she quietly mumbles, feeling her neck heat up at the words. it’s honest, too honest, and she’s afraid it’ll push you away, but she wants to share the way you do. she wants to bring you some of the hope you’re trying to present to her. “we might… have a future.”

she doesn’t have a moment to glance up at you before she feels the familiar plush softness of your mouth on hers. her breath hitches in her throat, shoulders stiff. after the surprise trickles away, her lips melt to yours and she presses in, mind fuzzy to the gentle pushes and openings of your mouth.

when you part away, an embarrassingly loud groan rumbling in her throat, you tip your forehead onto hers. “you’re right. I want that too.”

joy floods her body at the confession, a swift sensation of lightness overtaking her. she had been so tense and rigid and tight with the anxiety, the fear, the terror at what this conversation might turn into, at the possibility of losing you. to be met with kisses and confessions and promises makes her feel wrapped up in a blanket of safety, like the kind her mother used to crochet for her. it seems like this will be okay, like you guys will be okay.

“lee?”

“mm?”

“will you, um, be my girlfriend?”

her eyes screw shut, her breath shuddering. for a second, she just repeats your words in her head, processing them. as ridiculous of a request as it sounds, she almost wants to leave the room momentarily to linger on your question by herself. despite knowing you’re being genuine, disbelief and shock hang in her head over your words. she didn’t think you’d propose such a request in this very conversation, that you value her words so much that they can inspire enough courage in you to ask the words you had been avoiding all week. the words that she herself needs a moment to digest and swallow down, and let them settle and soak into her mind. she can’t look at you just yet. it’d be too much to.

but, finally, she does. your breaths are short and panting, clearly indicating your nervousness. and you’re staring at her with shining, wide eyes, eyebrows raised. you’re waiting, and with how carefully you’re eyeing her, she suspects you’d wait however long it takes.

it’s almost unbelievable that you’d even ask her rather than just declare it. she knows you’re doing it to be respectful through the act of offering it to, but not forcing, her. but, she feels a quiet amusement in the irony of you asking her, and awaiting her answer, when all her mind is whirring with is how badly she wants you.

she nods. there’s only one possible answer, a singular correct one. any alternative, any minimization, would be pure and utter dishonesty. and that’s not who she is. nor who she would ever want to be. she wants to seize this moment with you, and take it and relish in it. “yes.”

a loud exhale sweeps past your lips, cheeks curving and dimpling as a wide smile takes over. lee feels her chest stir at the sight. you look pretty. after a shaky laugh leaves your mouth, you suddenly lunge at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. she starts at the sudden movement, then curves her arms around you, rubbing your back. she feels warm inside.

“thank god,” you mutter.

she laughs, too. but, not out of relief. well, partially from relief. the other part is drawn out of complete amusement over your reaction. she can’t imagine how you could’ve thought she’d possibly give any other answer.

“you’re crazy,” she mutters, dotting a soft kiss to your head.

and she adores you.

—

when the sky dusks and coats lee’s bedroom in a blue, dim glow, she reaches one arm over to switch on her bedside lamp. music is softly playing, one arm of hers is wrapped around you, and you feel like you could live in this moment forever.

her stomach slowly rises with a yawn, the noise deeper than her usual speaking level. the sound of it makes you smile. “tired?”

“mm. a bit.”

you rub at the material of her button-up. a question hangs on the tip of your tongue. for you don’t want to leave her, not like this, not after having been able to finally hold her after a week of barely doing so. not when her kind words and soft assurances gave you the courage to ask her to be yours. not when the knowledge of her actually being yours is still fresh on your mind, sending butterflies into your stomach. of course, with it, there’s the slightest bit of anxiety, and deep, lurking thoughts, but you try to ignore them, hoping with time, they’ll fade away. for now, you want to focus on the good parts. the excitement you feel at being able to finally call her your girlfriend, the daydreams of the future whirling through your mind of introducing her as your girlfriend to others, and calling her that in your most tender moments. you can’t believe she’s yours. not just in title or reference, but in every way that matters most. the connection, the touch, the want, the comfort. you feel like you could race through your neighbourhood with the overbearing lightness you feel.

“can I… I mean, would you be okay with me sleeping here tonight?”

she blinks up at the ceiling. “with me?”

you nearly joke, but hold your tongue, desperate for her answer. “yeah.”

“yeah, sure.”

“really?”

she nods, face utterly neutral. “yeah. don’t… girlfriends do that?”

you sag against her with a glare. “yes, but I don’t want you doing it just because we’re girlfriends! I want you to want it too.”

“if it were up to me, we’d sleep together every night.” after a second, she blinks hard and clears her throat. “in the literal sense, I mean.”

you rub your cheek on her shoulder with a laugh, affection blooming through you at her words, the petals stroking your stomach and delivering a fluttery feeling. “no, no, please, keep going.”

she hums. “I’d rather not.”

“you’re so boring.”

her eyes, black in the faint light of the room, lower to you. “I’m on the brink of rescinding the offer.”

you snort. “sure you are. you just admitted you’d like for me to spend every night here, remember?”

“yeah, and you have the ability to make me change my mind in under two minutes. impressive, hm?”

the teasing lilt in her voice is crystal clear and you smack her stomach gently. “you’re so mean to me.”

“I think you like it.”

the words, said flatly, make you nearly bury your face in her chest and scream. the quiet surety of them, the mental image they evoke of lee being even meaner in all kinds of ways, have you antsy with sudden arousal. “no, I don’t.”

she hums, ignoring your protest.

“it’s true, I don’t,” you whine, the earnestness of your words broken with a light trill of laughter.

“so, I guess you’ll retire to your own room tonight? since I’ll probably be so mean to you.”

you tug on her shirt with a small groan. it’s an empty threat, of course it is, but your drowsiness has made you more clingy than usual, wanting nothing more than an unwavering, unfaltering amount of doting and attention. “no, it means you should make it up to me by letting me stay here all night.”

“I guess I could manage that. if it’s to make you feel better.”

“oh? so, that’s the only reason you’ll tolerate me for the night?”

a small, amused huff leaves her. “yeah, I’m struggling to pick out another reason.”

“very nice.” with a small groan, you writhe out of her arms, sitting up and tossing one leg over her body to reach the floor and remove yourself from her bed.

in a quick flash, lee’s hand is grasping onto yours tightly. “where are you going?”

her tone is soft with protest and you grin, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss her stupid. “to get my pajamas.”

“oh. okay.” she continues to hold onto your hand and when you raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly glancing to where she’s still gripping on, she lifts your locked hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. “I do want you to sleep here. you know that, right?” her voice is lowered with trepidation.

“I do.” you lift her hand, pecking it right back. she looks down after the contact, nodding. “give me a sec,” you say.

in the privacy of your bedroom, your face aches with the huge grin that splits on it. excitement is swiftly spreading through your body, plunging your stomach into a sensation of tinglest. it almost feels like you’re a kid again, eager at the prospect of spending the night in a new bedroom that isn’t yours. she’s just across the hall, but it feels like you’re preparing for the most exciting sleepover of your life. except instead of taking magazine quizzes and playing truth or dare, you’ll be cuddled up with your girlfriend. your girlfriend. you could die.

if it were someone else, you might be picky about the pajamas you’ll wear upon re-entering her bedroom. but, lee has seen you in every pair you own numerous times. still, you want to look good for her. tonight bears a huge milestone, and she’s yours. you check yourself in the mirror, wincing at the dry skin peeling around your nose and your cracked lips. god, had she felt the dryness when you kissed her? you quickly apply some vaseline on both parts, rubbing it in until you’re satisfied.

you change into your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. you look down at your unshaven legs. it’s not the first time she’s seen them, but now, your mind is overtaken with thoughts about if she finds it unappealing. you know that you shouldn’t care. even if she did, hypothetically, find it unattractive, you shouldn’t remove the hair just for her. you’re under no obligation to alter your appearance for lee, no matter how much you may like her. besides, if she preferred hairlessness in the first place for some aesthetic reason, what does that say about her? there’s no reason for you to do anything about it right now, especially in the comfort of your own home. it’s natural, it’s normal. with that, and the reminder that lee has already seen your legs in this state before, you take a deep breath and head into her bedroom.

when you enter, you can hear the faint noise of her in the bathroom. at the foot of her bed, you’re struck with an exploding mixture of nerves and what feels like a neverending thrill. you’re actually going to sink into her bed instead of yours tonight. you’re going to sleep wrapped up in her, and wake up to the sight of her long lashes. you’re going to spend the night with her.

not knowing what to do with yourself, you set the book you brought onto her nightstand, then crawl into her bed. you tentatively pull the sheet over your legs, bracing your back against her headboard.

you tap your fingers along the back of your hands, eyeing her room. as usual, it’s clean, meticulously so. empty walls spare for two artworks of flowers, both of which are in neutral tones. the surface of her dresser is filled with no trinkets, just the necessities of a hairbrush, hair ties, what seems to be a jewelry box, one plant. your gaze strays to the first drawer. you swallow hard.

it’s not like you’re unaware that sex could be a possibility for tonight. and as much as the thought of it makes your stomach itch with nervousness, you can’t help but feel desire stir between your legs at the thought. you’re ready for it, you know you are. you trust lee as much as she said she trusted you, if not even more. you know she’ll be a patient and kind lover. and while your mind is silently swarmed with the nasty buzz of thoughts like how good you’ll be, if you’ll match to her past partners, or she’ll find your body attractive, your desire for her triumphs it all.

when the door to the bathroom creaks open, you scramble to grab your book, flipping it open and forcing your eyes to it so fast you feel a wave of light-headedness.

she steps in. “hi.”

god, you hate her so much. she’s clad in nothing but a white tank top and boxer shorts, her wet hair laid flat along her back. she looks so good you almost want to look away. almost. if only the desire to soak her up in your eyes, and let the memory of her become drilled into your mind forever, wasn’t so strong.

“hey.” god, that sounded squeaky. you clear your throat.

she give you a small, tight-lipped smile. just a formality. she walks to her dresser, carefully placing her hoops in the small, white dish. the sight makes you suck in a breath. those fingers of hers are tantalizingly close to that top drawer and the toy within. if she just moved them a few inches down, she could take it out, strap it on, and lower herself onto you. you wonder if she’s used it since you discovered it. if so, did she think of you?

she turns to you, footsteps quiet as she approaches. it doesn’t feel the same as it did just twenty minutes ago. before, you guys were at the peak of your reconciliation, tender and clingy, needing each other. now, a shower and change of clothes later, the tide has calmed, and all that’s left over are the remaining embers in the quiet, low intimacy of the night. the music still playing, the crickets chirping through the sheer mesh of lee’s open window, the street lights painting the corner of her room in a pale light.

carefully, lee seats herself on the edge of her bed, hands fisted in the white sheets. “are you comfortable?”

“yeah.” your eyes scan the back facing you, white fabric transparent and damp under her soaked hair. “are you?”

“not really.” her eyes dart to you. “not because of you. I’m just not used to this.”

you swallow a shaky breath, trying to calm the onslaught of worry at hearing of her anxiety. it’s okay. it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, or your relationship with her, or anything. she just needs time. it’s okay. “okay, um, would you prefer we do it another day?”

“no.” eyes lingering on the ground, she silently reaches for your hand. “I want to.”

you grip onto her like a lifeline, feeling immensely fragile under the newness of this all, wanting nothing but the haven of her arms around you. “okay.”

after braiding her hair, she shifts into the bed, curling on her side as she lies down. her bare legs lifted, you can see the thin skimming of brown hair. despite your little pep talk earlier, you can’t resist the ease that settles into you at the sight. you sidle down next to her, feeling suddenly shy and exposed. she’ll be dealing with all of your secret, unconscious habits tonight. you know you two have slept in this bed together before, but for an entire night? it feels different. “pass me my book?”

she reaches over for it, and you nearly whimper at the sight of her slightly toned arm flexing as she stretches her arm out to retrieve it. yeah, a book would be good. you need some fucking distraction.

while you flip through the pages, lee digs into her backpack, pulling out a notebook and beginning to scan her eyes over the pages. unable to resist the urge, you take a peak at her notebook, eyes roving over her scrawled jot notes, red pen used to underline and star certain words. the notes are about social factors in the criminal justice system. you read along with her, taking in the information.

“enjoying it?”

you jolt back at her voice. “oh! I– maybe,” you laugh.

a small, barely present smile brushes her face. “it’s for my exam on monday.”

she brings the notebook closer, shifting it more in your direction.

you kiss her shoulder with a smile.

another half hour passes of her studying, with you skimming her notes. when she closes it silently and slips it back into her backpack, what follows is her turning off the music.

you frown as Sade’s voice suddenly zaps into silence. “hey! I liked that song.”

her legs tuck into the sheets, turning to face you. you turn bashful under her intent gaze locked onto you, the intimate position earning you knuckles that brush against hers. “we can listen to it tomorrow.”

you roll your eyes. “this better be an oath.”

she chuckles. “sounds a tad biblical, but okay.”

“yeah, so right up your alley.”

she snorts. “yes. as I lie in bed. with my girlfriend. the picture of piety.”

she’s so funny. you have a funny girlfriend. god, that’s a nice thought. you try to ignore all the others that linger beneath the surface of that one. wanting them to be forgotten. desiring more of her laughter, her jokes, you teasingly shuffle closer, saying, “hey, we’re not doing anything that’d count as a transgression. to anyone else, we’d just seem like two friends.”

“friends?”

“mhm, friends.”

her lips curled up, she slides a hand to your hip. you flinch at the touch, the firmness of her palm exhilarating. “still friends?”

you somehow manage to keep your voice steady. “oh, yeah. you could just be a friend helping me with… a hip massage.”

her fingers press into your hip, pushing small circles. “that’s considerate.” her hand raises to your face, brushing a thumb on your skin. “now?”

goosebumps trail down your spine. “yeah, you’re just my friend who’s telling me how pretty I am.”

her thumb strokes along your bottom lip, dark eyes latching onto the movement. fuck, it’s taking everything in you to steady your breaths and not gasp out loud. she glances up at you, eyebrow raised.

“now, it’s about how pretty my lips are.”

her smile widens, orbs flicking between yours and your parted lips once, twice, before she leans in, kissing you.

✩

a quiet, squelching noise rings in the quiet of the room as she parts from you. her pink, smooth lips hang right above yours, hot breath hitting your skin as she whispers, “now?”

your thighs rub together, deeply aching in between them. aching so, so bad. “yeah, because now, you’re just teaching me how to kiss. you know, for boys,” you laugh, the irony of it not at all lost on you.

she scoffs quietly, shaking her head. the motion slows to a stop, and her eyes widen by the most miniscule amount. “I suppose I should be thorough, then.”

her words make your nose puff with a loud exhale. how is she so good at this? “yeah, I guess you should.”

“mm.” her lips meet yours again, and you immediately open for her, mouth dancing and moving easily with hers. her thumb presses deeper into your cheek and it encourages you to open wider, her tongue snaking in to rub against yours. the pink, wet muscle is rough and warm and she’s gentle in her licks, the tip of it rubbing against the center of yours. between your soft, wanton whimpers, and the wet, slippery noises of your tongues swirling together, drool dripping from her mouth to yours, your pussy is throbbing.

lee pulls back, lips wrapping around your tongue and beginning to suck gently on it. the slight sting of it has you gasping, but she keeps going, her head bobbing as she entraps your tongue between the tightness of her mouth. the pushing and pulling causes saliva to slide down your chin, the sensation tickling your skin. lee releases your tongue, panting with shallow, short breaths, eyes drinking you in. when she spots the wet sheen of your chin, she ducks down, lapping at it. the unexpected sensation has a weak, strangled whine exiting your throat, the noise only rising in volume when she begins to suck at the spot.

your hips jerk forward, mind flooding with thoughts of how good her mouth is, how good she sucks, how good her tongue feels. one of her large hands dig into your back, muttering against your skin, “this doesn’t feel that platonic anymore.”

“fuck,” you whine as her lips begin to press velvety kisses down the lane of your neck. “y-you’re just… a really nice friend.”

her front presses against yours suddenly, pushing you to your back. the easy, effortless movement has you shuddering at her strength. her knees close around your legs, pinning you in place. you’re cornered, surrounded by nothing but the firm cushion of her body, and it feels so good. she’s staring down at you, the plain scent of her soap surrounding you, lashes fanning beautifully as she takes in the sight of you. you grow shy under her gaze, but will yourself to keep looking. because she’s staring at you like you’re a puzzle for her to put together, like you’re something to solve, piece together. something to work with, work on.

she leans down, her wet, stray hairs tickling your neck as she continues kissing. “and you’re nice, too. for letting me do this.”

“well, I’m just consider– ah!” you moan loudly when her lips tighten around a patch of skin, beginning to suck hard. the spot stings and aches, but the pain-pleasure mix of it sends arousal through you.

lee lets go not a moment later, eyes shooting up to you. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you reply, breaths heaving. “more than okay. it–it feels good, lee.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

she gulps hard, eyes still warily scanning your face.

“hey, hey,” you quietly whisper, cupping her face. “I’ll tell you if there’s anything I don’t like, okay? but, this all feels good. really good.”

she nods.

“and you tell me too, okay?”

“I will,” she promises, landing a small kiss to your chin. you try not to let your mind race to the way she was devouring it just minutes before. she pauses. “are we about to have sex?”

god, your body is raging for more touch, more kisses, more licking. but, you focus on her question, knowing she needs this clarity right now. and it gives you a moment to linger on her question beyond all the heat. do you want sex with her right now? you mull on it for a long moment. it may not be the most ideal time – she still has a final to prepare for this weekend, you didn’t get to eat lots of fruit in the hours leading up to it like you had mentally planned weeks ago, you’re wearing underwear that’s pure comfort, no aesthetic. you still have your anxieties lingering, creeping along the edge of your subconscious. but, you can’t say no. you want her so badly, in this tight, small bed, during this warm night. the only thing that prevails upon every worry, every doubt, is the sheer, pointed knowledge that this moment you’ve dreamt of for months is right at your fingertips. and to let it go feels like the stupidest choice you could make.

“I want to,” you whisper, combing through those soaked locks. “do you?”

“I do.”

“even if you need to study for tomorrow?”

she laughs. “I’ve managed with less sleep before.”

her words have a pierce of jealousy cutting into you, and before you can decide against it, you ask, “you mean with other girls?”

“I mean when studying.”

“oh.” you look away, the sight of her plain wall suddenly very appealing. god, if there was a spectrum to how cool a girlfriend could be, you’d be sitting right on one end, legs dangling over it.

her lips return to the base of your neck. “did you really think I could think about any other people right now?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, arching up to meet her attentive mouth.

“well, I know.” she sinks her teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh of your neck. you cry out at the sensation, the prickling edges of her teeth pinching your skin. “don’t think that way.”

she pulls back, licking a long stripe along the marks, maintaining eye contact the entire time. jesus. of all fucking times she decides to do that, this is when she chooses to?

lee pauses at the edge of your t-shirt, head tilting up to you. “can I take this off?”

you bite your lip at her bluntness. “yeah, you can.” your mind whirs with questions – what will she think of this part of you? will she find you attractive? will she compare you to her past sexual partners? you try to shake away the thoughts, but they keep slamming into you, and you can’t bear to look at her, scared of the insecurity potentially showing on your face.

does it make a difference, though? for lee immediately hovers her face over yours, murmuring, “are you okay?”

“I’m just scared. of if you’ll like me, if you’ll, I don’t know, like me as much as the other people you’ve been with.”

lee’s eyebrows slightly draw in together, as though your words perplex her. it sends a wave of embarrassment rolling through you. “I already have an idea of what you look like. you know, just based on the outline of your clothes.” she clears her throat, eyes sliding away. “and… I’m attracted you. I’ll definitely like what you look like. as for the other people, you, what we have – it’s all different. there would never be comparison. you’re the one I like right now, not them. you’re my focus.”

you’re my focus. the possessiveness of the words, the way they highlight, and lavish, attention on you, and only you, the firm, hard, proud declaration of them – they make you feel like hers. they make you feel anchored in her surety, even if your own is wavering. she wants you. she wants this. why would you deny the both of you? especially when you know in time, this’ll get easier. it has to, just like the talking, just like the flirting, just like the kissing. it’ll get easier. but, you’ll never reach that point unless you trust her, and yourself, right now.

you nod, face hot from what she said. “okay. do it.”

“are you sure?”

“I am.”

she slides her hands under your back, palms bracing to help you sit up. you push your hands onto the mattress, helping her guide you. when you’re half sat-up, her fingers slide to the edge of the shirt, slowly raising it up. your vision is partially blocked when the opening gets caught on your nose, and you hear a quiet laugh from her, which only ignites one in yourself.

when it’s fully off, your vision exposed, you immediately smile at the sight of lee pointedly turned from you, clearly giving you a moment to collect yourself. her hands are wrapped in the fabric of your shirt, neatly folding it up.

when she’s done tucking it into the edge of her bed, you chuckle. “you can look.”

with a sharp, heavy breath, she does, her eyes immediately lowering to your breasts. they rove along with a hungry, direct gaze. with every bit of skin her gaze traces along, the more desired you feel, especially when more telltale signs of her desire emerge through. like the bob of her throat, the flare of her nostrils, the wringing of her hands together. it releases a burst of confidence through you.

you reach down for her hand, raising it to one. “go on. touch.”

her breaths get heavier, and with a small nod, her long fingers grip firmly at your tit. the feeling of her tight grasp, the warmth of palm rubbing at your sensitive nipple, the sight of her fingertips sinking into the plush skin – it immediately has you jutting your chest out to her. “fuck.”

her left hand wastes no time in squeezing the other one. she pushes her palm in and out with slow, patient rubs, fingers curling in to massage. the flat plane of skin of her palm continues to squeeze against your nipples, which are slowly beginning to perk up under the pressure, and the feeling of it has you squirming. “lee, please, I…”

eyes still on your chest, she mumbles, “what?”

“your mouth, please.”

her head immediately ducks down, lips rounding along one and lightly toying with it. the faint, teasing pressure of it makes you ache and you weave your fingers into her hair, keeping her in place, needing more. almost as though she can sense it, she tightens her lips, heightening the suction tugging at your nipple. she keeps her lips like that for minutes, switching between the two as her lips kiss and suck at the perked buds of them. at one point, she unexpectedly sticks her tongue out, laving it over one, getting it cold and wet in the air of the room. she licks and licks like a woman starved, as though you’re her last meal, only pausing to slightly lean back and let the tip of her pink muscle flick and dart around the shape of it. and when her mouth focuses on a single nipple, her fingers toy with the second, gently rolling it between her thumb and index finger. when her tongue flicks, her thumb follows suit, until both are hard, aching and dripping with her spit.

your hips begin to buck, pussy pushing and grinding into her bed. the harder she sucks, the more depraved your movements become, until you’re practically bouncing on the surface of her bed.

lee’s nails suddenly dig into your back, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse. “can I go lower?”

“please.” as if you could stand any other option.

she lines hard, moist kisses down the soft skin of your tummy, pausing to lick along the waistband of your pajama shorts. with long, nimble fingers she tugs it down, kissing along your thighs as she does. her lips skim along the thick hairs of your shin, one last kiss delivered to your ankle as she drops the fabric to the floor. her arms hook around your thighs, spreading you out.

for a few extremely long seconds, she just stares.

your hips shift, swallowing down the worry. “is everything okay?”

“mm.” a corner of her mouth tips up, and you nearly hump the air at the sight of it. it’s a smirk. a fucking smirk. months ago, the idea of such an expression on her face felt like a mere fantasy. and now, you’re bearing witness to the most arousing expression to have ever graced this earth, all while she’s tantalizingly close to your pussy. “you’re wet already.” the flat of her tongue languidly strokes your inner thigh. “it’s cute.”

before you can protest her words, feeling yourself leak even more at them, her fingers slide into the edges of your underwear. she pauses. “is this okay?”

does she even need to ask? your mind is focused solely on feeling her mouth on you. “yeah. please.”

she remains still, eyes flicking about.

“lee?”

“I want to make you feel good.”

you run a hand through her hair, encouraging her to look up. “and you will. I know you will. even if you need a bit of direction, I’ll give it, and it’ll be great.”

she nods, her breaths measured and deep. you know she’s trying to calm herself, and you quietly continue rubbing her temple, giving her that moment.

finally, she raises her head, kissing your wrist. “I’m good.”

you stroke her cheek once more before releasing the tender caress of her skin. a quiet exhale slides past her lips, then she begins to drag your underwear down.

fully naked, you feel your pussy pulsing and gushing even more. her burning gaze blazes past your skin, lighting you aflame and tingling all over, wanting her tongue and fingers to ease where you’re most swollen and dripping with arousal.

without realizing, your hips begin to bounce up and down, anticipation seizing at your body and teasing at it with its ghosting fingers.

she sinks her face into your curls, one deep inhale tickling your folds before she presses in deeper, beginning to lick at you. a loud moan immediately erupts from you, pussy sensitive and sopping as she flattens her tongue and laps at your crinkled folds, relentless in its strokes against you. she pauses every few moments to wrap her lips around the folds, sucking them lightly into her mouth, as the tip of her rough muscle continues exploring them. the light ache of it sends your hips pouncing up, hands flying to her hair to keep her in place.

she toys like this for a while, lavishing attention to every spot but your clit. she sticks her tongue into your hole, sliding it in and out, moaning softly when you clench down. two of her fingers spread you out, and her mouth slides against each of your pussy lips. she even presses her entire face in, mindlessly kissing at your cunt as her nose rocks achingly close to your swollen, stiff bud. but, you can’t find it in yourself to beg for more, for every touch has you wailing and experiencing different sorts of pleasure with each new spot her mouth makes contact with.

finally, she licks a long trail to your clit, stilling her mouth so that her tongue can encircle the bud, rubbing at the hood and coaxing for more of you to peak out. when she pulls away for a moment too long, you cock your head in confusion. you jerk hard when she suddenly spits down on your pussy, coating it in saliva then diving back down. your resulting moans are obscene, bordering on pornographic with how loud and drawn out they are. and you can tell lee is enjoying it, her eyes fluttering shut at every noise, sometimes even returning with her own gasps and groans, which send you tightening. to finally see her like this is surreal – licking up your most intimate spot, moaning just from your noises, eyes shutting from pleasuring you. your mind is clouded with a thin layer of astonishment that finally, finally, you’re living this moment with her, sharing this desire with her. it feels like a miracle, something to engrave in your mind forever.

especially when the ache intensifies by a tenfold when she begins to wrap her lips around your clit and suck it slowly into her mouth. low, wet noises mix between your pussy and her mouth, her lingering kisses and pulls sending a deep, burning pleasure through you. she lets go, fingers spreading you open again, then leans in to begin to swipe the tip of her tongue on the nub, pink muscle darting in and out of her lips as she focuses on the motion, eyes screwed shut. the slippery pressure of it has the throbbing of your clit rising even more, and your hips begin to swivel, grinding against her face.

she laughs softly against your pussy, sucking sharply before whispering, “excited?”

“shut up,” you hiss, the bite to your words shattered when you begin whining at the feeling of her lips tightening.

lee ignores the words, raising her hand up. two fingers lingering along the plush of your lips. she parts from you momentarily to say, “suck.”

it’s almost embarrassing how immediate your mouth is to opening for her, lips entrapping her fingers and tongue moistening them.

when she seems satisfied enough, her fingers drag down to your pussy, toying with the edges of your hole. mouth still on your clit, she looks up at you, and with your nod, begins to push a finger in.

you nearly sob at the feeling of it, her long digit not enough to make you full, but stretching you nonetheless. it rubs deliciously against your walls, and the sensation mixed with the toying of your clit has you needing to come.

your hips start flailing, the sheer need gripping at you and sending you into a state of pure want, desiring and craving for nothing more than for lee to bring you over that edge. “lee, lee, please, I need–”

“I know,” she mumbles, and slides a second finger in, fastening the pace of her pumps in and out of you.

you toss your head up, back arching as your hips push harder into her face, keening as her mouth sloppily, harshly tugs your clit into her mouth over and over again, her tongue pressing relentlessly against it everytime. “fuck, yes, yes, like that.”

she keeps going, fingers jamming in and out of you with careful, hard strokes, and after a minute or two of it, you can’t hold back, a loud cry filling the room as your spasm all over her fingers, latching onto and gripping them hard. lee keeps fucking you through it and your orgasm only washes over you stronger with the way she moans into your cunt, her ministrations the producing loud, dripping noises.

you pant, chest rising and falling. as the heated, burning sensation of your orgasm simmers down, you glance down to lee, nearly whimpering at the sight of her tenderly nuzzling her face against your thigh.

“come here,” you whisper.

her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, immediately flicking up to you. at your words, she slowly crawls back up, a small noise jolting from her throat when you tug her down for a hard, impassioned kiss. you wrap your legs around her hips, wanting her as close as possible. you’ve felt close to her, linked to her, so many times in the past, but this feels different. this is a tangible, physical connection, one between your bodies and the learning of it, the memorizing of it. it’s something that’s seared into your skin – the way she touched you, held you, brought you to your peak. she’s imprinted on your body, and you never want her off.

“that was amazing,” you mumble against her lips.

you feel her mouth curve up. “really?”

“so fucking amazing, lee.” ‘amazing’ doesn’t feel like enough to cover the experience. it was probably both one of the most grounding things you ever felt, yet also was detached from reality in the immense, mind-consuming pleasure it threw you into. it had the safety, comfort and laughter of being with lee, but also the surging arousal, excitement and desperation of being with lee in this way. and, then, there’s the mere fact that it was her – and with her, everything was on the cusp of being heavenly.

“I’m glad.” she pecks your cheek. then, does it again. and again. you giggle, sensing how needy she must be.

“let me make you feel good,” you mutter, nipping at the shell of her ear.

she inhales sharply. “but… you should rest.”

the response sparks an idea in your head. with a smirk, you say, “who says I can’t do both?”

–

lee can’t stand it. your tongue on her center, prodding and licking deep, curling into her hole. the vibrations of your moans against her. you’re so loud, so vocal, and lee is just barely hanging onto a thread of self-control everytime she hears one of your noises, no matter how small. the breathiness, the softness, the way your eyes squeeze shut and mouth hangs open. she’d do anything just to secure a lifetime of those noises from you.

but, your noises aren’t the only thing on her mind. not when your tongue is plunging into her hole, licking up the wetness that’s soaking her through. she feels the texture of it against her walls with how deep you go, and the feeling of it has her leaning her forehead against the wall, needing something, anything, hard and flat to anchor herself on while you play with her from underneath. your arms are lazily wrapped around her thighs, fingernails lightly scratching at her knees, just another sensation to add to the ones already turning her mind into a malleable, hazy enclosement of thoughts that turn to nothing other than you.

her tank top is still on, boxers discarded somewhere on the floor after you had practically thrown them off when urging her to climb onto your face. she’s never done this kind of position before, and maybe it was for the best, for her thighs are trembling in the effort to keep herself upright, legs buckling under the ceaseless movements of your tongue deep inside her. but, with you, it’s not so embarrassing. it’s you, and those two words are enough to help ease anxieties of how you might be perceiving her.

especially when you’re taking every opportunity to vocalize exactly how you feel about her. sweet mumblings of, “god, you taste good,” and, “I love how you move,” keep tracing along her drenched lips, and each compliment sends her gasping against the wall, which usually incites a soft laugh from you. your amusement makes her wonder if your praise is being partially said for the sake of teasing her and coaxing all these exposing reactions from her. but, she can rest assure that even if that’s the case, they’re not at all disingenuous. because they usually wind up being accompanied by a harsher suck, a deeper lick, or a heartier devour of her. devour, that’s the word.

when she starts approaching her orgasm, she grows self-conscious of if it’s too fast, if you’d prefer her pleasure slows down so you can take your time. but, then, you press your fingers in deeper, tongue drawing tight circles around her clit, and she trembles with a loud, heaving gasp, nails digging painfully into her headboard as she comes. it almost scares her sometimes, to have such little control over her body in times like these, no choice but to let it lean into pure instinct and desire. but, with how good it feels, her walls pulsing and your wet mouth licking relentlessly, she finds that she’d gladly give up control over and over again if it means she gets to have you like this.

when the two of you kiss, the taste of your shared juices makes her chase the sanctity of your mouth. it unnerves her how much she wants you. already, she wants to kiss back down to your pussy and relish in the taste of you again. she wants to feel the tight grip of your thighs over her ears and untie her hair so you can fist and pull at it. it’s addicting, the feeling of you like this, body writhing and so reactive for her. she wants to discover every little spot that gets you wet, every hidden crevice that makes you shiver. she wants to study you like an artwork, worship you like religion, and taste you like it’s survival.

lee wants to do so much more. but, when she’s sucking on your nipple again, nearly coming undone from how each of you are grinding on the other’s thigh, she looks up to find your eyes fluttering close, watery and faded.

with one last kiss, she releases the perked bud. “tired?”

you pout, cocking your head at her. “maybe. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“that doesn’t sound like a ‘maybe,’” she mumbles, reaching up to kiss your cheek.

it’s an innocent touch, but still, it pulls a moan out of you, and she grits her teeth together, wanting nothing more than to open her drawer, put that harness on and pump into you when you’re on your stomach, pliant and ready to be filled. she tries to redirect her thoughts. you’re tired. so, sleep. you two should sleep. it’s a disappointing thought, but she supposes she ought to reign in some sense, and get enough rest for tomorrow. however, the only part of her that seems to acknowledge this is her brain, for every other inch of her body is craving for more of you.

✩

“let’s sleep, then,” she mutters, looking down to you. your eyes are heavy and dewy with sleep, lips swollen from the harsh kisses you two had exchanged through the night, hair a lot messier than when she had first found you in her bed tonight. you look beautiful. she feels the tightness of possessiveness in her stomach. you’re beautiful, and you’re all hers. the last thing she had expected when she woke up this morning was to both become your girlfriend and have you like this. the word girlfriend in reference to you still feels a bit unreal. but, then, she looks at you, remembers your sweet question, and she’s flooded with pride. you’re all hers.

“okay.” your teeth flash at her in the moonlit night, and she wants to kiss along the row of them. if she were a bit braver, a bit more honest, she’d tell you that your smile was the brightest beam of light in this room. even more than the white orb hanging in the sky tonight. but, under your expectant eyes, she crumbles, looking away. she wants to say these things to you. so bad. but, it feels like right when she’s on the brink of doing so, the sheer openness of the words, and their almost-present accuracy in depicting how she feels for you, spike her nervousness. nervousness about how she’ll say it, how it’ll make you feel.

but, she wants to try harder for you.

when it’s her turn to head to the bathroom to clean up, she feels bashful to stand up half-naked in front of you. it’s not that she’s insecure over her body – in fact, she’s quite content, if not neutral, with how she looks. but, she’s rarely ever this exposed to anyone’s eyes but her own, and the shameless way in which you stare at her makes her both eager and wanting to run away and escape your gaze.

in the bathroom, she braces her back on the door and finally releases a heavy whoosh of breath. she needed this, a moment alone. eyes closed, she recalls and goes over how the night went with you. her mind immediately begins to split and dissect how she did. she knows you said you enjoyed it, and based on that and your body’s responses, you seemed to have, but she wonders if she could’ve done anything more. anything differently.

✩

when she’s cuddled into you, new boxer shorts on (since her original ones were too damp, a fact which she tried to hide from you before your eyes had suddenly opened and you discovered her carefully opening her drawer for another one), she poses this very question.

you snort, looking down at her. “are you already forgetting how hard I came?”

she feels her face heat up, mouth pressing tightly. no, of course she didn’t forget. if anything, the mental image and physical sensation of it are two memories stamped into her mind. that’s how much she focused on it. “no.”

“it was great, lee. amazing. seriously, you know how to fuck.”

she pushes her face deeper into your neck, the compliment doing nothing to make her feel more comfortable. “just… answer me. is there anything more I can do?”

“no, no, baby, I don’t think so.”

lee’s feels like her entire body stutters at the casual toss of baby. this is the second time you’ve done it today, and she feels like a third time might make her implode. how do you do it? call her these things with such ease, as though you’ve been doing it forever? she wishes she could transition into these things the way you do.

“although…”

she tenses up, mind spinning with one question: what did I do wrong?

“you know, maybe we should talk about kink. like, particulars of what we’re into. not because the sex is lacking or anything, but just, you know, things to try.”

lee relaxes at the words, content to know she hadn’t dissatisfied you. but, they also release another stream of worry in her. through her years at university, due to reading and ample time for fantasy, her tastes have diverted somewhat from what would be considered normal, acceptable sex. not that she doesn’t enjoy that. she’s still rearing from your previous activities, the image of your face during orgasm tucked into a corner of her mind through all her ruminations. but, she has her preferences and likes – ones that stray a bit more from the norm, ones that despite amaya’s insistence, she hasn’t even admitted to her, even though amaya herself has gotten more into s and m since her last boyfriend.

but, she was content to keep these things to herself, having spent a long while ashamed of them and only now more accepting. in her first year of university, when she first started mentally exploring, she was fresh out of high school, recently departed from her hometown, still barely able to utter the word “lesbian.” the nature of her sexual desires had only deepened her sense of secrecy, as well as provided more bite to the gnawing worry that she really was sinning, and truly was inherently depraved. after all, she was already experiencing the lopsided attraction of liking girls – what did it say about her that she was now imagining being aggressive with them? did it prove the church right, that her attraction really could never reflect pure love, or was there something wrong with her specifically? the first option seemed impossible after what she had experienced in high school with her first relationship. the second option – well, that had haunted her for months.

✩

it was only when she read more on the topic of this sexual subculture, both in theory and relation to other lesbians, did her anxiety ease and she felt herself becoming more open to her own deep-seeded desires. however, this did nothing to tame her shyness in actually admitting said desires. she wants to, especially because she knows if she does, she might actually be able to explore some of these things with you, a notion that makes her throb in want. but, she can’t help but fear the chance of bringing something up and having you look at her in shock, or worse, repulsion.

it seems she doesn’t need to linger on that possibility, though, and can put it aside for now, for right as she’s about to reply, she hears your soft snores. with a soft huff of amusement, she curls deeper into you. your snores get a bit loud at times, but to her, it’s a lucky tradeoff if it means she gets to rest her head on your shoulder for the night. the last time you two had slept in her bed like this, it was far apart with no touch, no skin-on-skin, just a lot of desire stirring within her from when she had momentarily woken to your parted lips, your shiny drool. being able to now feel the steady lulls of your breathing feels almost miraculous after having wanted it for so long.

the last time she was held like this at night, it was during winter break, when her mom had laid in her bed one late afternoon, falling asleep next to lee. lee had continued reading, eyes wandering to her mom’s face, the creases of it flattened and softened under winter’s light and the deep sleep. lee couldn’t bear to wake her – she knew how much her mom struggled to sleep these days.

after some more careful watching, she had given into the childish want in her, and laid next to her mom under the setting sun. when she was a kid, they used to do this all the time. despite her general discomfort with touch, there was always the exception for her mom. it rang true then, and present-wise, became even more evident when lee woke up at midnight, and found her mom’s arm wrapped around her, fingers pressing into lee’s shoulder. lee couldn’t bear to wake or leave her then either.

maybe that’s what her life is crafted of. never being able to fully leave anything.

when she wakes up in the morning, bright, yellow light streaming in through the long window, she’s immediately met with the sight of your back, shirt stretched up as you hunch over your legs, sitting up.

almost on instinct, her palm rests on the exposed skin, trailing up.

you flinch in surprise, before tossing your head over your shoulder to shoot her a mischievous quirk of your lips. she clears her throat at the sight of it. your hair is mused, your eyes wet with splotches from sleep, your lips cracked and dry. and she feels reverent. she gets to see you like this now – in your first moments of regaining consciousness, half-asleep and groggy, and it feels like the most precious sight. if there is a god out there, at least she has something to thank him for. this private moment, reserved only for her.

“you know,” she mutters, hand disappearing under the fabric of your shirt, “I used to think of this.”

“think of what?”

your voice is raspier than usual, and lee tries not to imagine how you’d sound groaning her name. “feeling your back.” she thinks of that day at the cherry blossom trees, when she had been fumbling thinking of what to say and how she could break the awkwardness that her words at derek’s party had set into motion. she had felt so uncomfortable, yet so softened at realizing that you, too, had missed her. at least enough to invite her out for an excursion.

“oh? so, you’ve been checking me out this entire time?”

she feels her face warm. the truth is, she has. but, she’d rather not admit that to you and undergo the weeks of teasing it’ll ensue. and so, she continues silently lining her nails along your back, smiling faintly when she feels goosebumps rise under the pads of her fingers. she wants to plant her lips on every one of them.

“don’t think you’re going to get let off this easy,” you laugh, back still turned to her. “now, you have to answer.”

“I’d rather take a vow of silence.”

“please, like you even need a vow in order to prompt you into hours of silence.”

her smile widens at your slight dig. it surprises her, how easily you can state something about her. it comforts her. “you’re right. maybe you should take one.”

you guffaw loudly, landing a smack to her knee. “jackass. you know you’d miss me.”

she’d probably sacrifice her left limb for it. but, instead, she mutters, “I don’t know. could do with some quiet.”

you glare at her. “well, maybe you should date someone more your speed then.” with an indignant toss of your head, you stand from the bed, beginning to step away.

lee’s hand immediately latches onto your wrist, and with a yank, you’re thrown right onto the bed next to her. her other arm winds around your waist, pulling you in. “come on, don’t do that.”

“you said you want quiet!”

though your mouth is upturned, she detects the faint whine in your voice, and falters, hoping she didn’t go too far. “I don’t want that. I was only kidding.”

you pout, pressing your body to hers. “really?”

she leans her forehead against yours. “yeah.”

her answer seems to do some good, for you grin softly, kissing her nose. when you do nothing but continue staring, she clears her throat. “what is it?”

“wait here.”

lee doesn’t have a moment to reply before you’re tossing your legs over her bed and running to your bedroom at the end of the hall. she rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, before a sudden memory blinks inside her mind.

when you dash back into her room, slightly breathless, your eyes dart to her. “what are you doing?”

she hits the play button. “you wanted to play this song last night.” it’s not just for you. as soon as you had protested her turning off the song last night, she had mentally taken note of it in order to ensure she listened to it today. just like with the Radiohead tape, she wants to know what you like and which songs hold meaning for you.

“it’s called Kiss of Life. very romantic,” you teasingly coo.

she turns away, sitting back on the bed. “suitable, then.” even to say something as upfront as that has her voice lowering in hesitation.

you giggle, and her eyes lower to your hand, which is clutching the camera she had gotten you for christmas. she always feels a burst of pride at seeing you with it. it was a used one, but had still costed enough that she avoided buying coffee and taking the subway in the three weeks leading up to the purchase. just so it didn’t create too big of a dent in her careful budget. not that she’d ever tell you that, though. she had, and still is, more than happy to just see your eagerness at using it.

you notice her gaze, and raise the camera. “here, I brought it to take some pictures of you.”

“why?” it’s not like she was exactly presentable, nor were you guys in any sort of special landscape, just her bedroom.

“because, I don’t know, you look so comfortable.”

she nods at the camera. “that’ll probably change once you direct that at me.” she was never good at being the center of attention, and photography demanded just that. even last time you had photographed her, at the cherry blossoms, she had only felt slightly more at ease because she was turned away, and smoking – something to occupy herself with.

you laugh. “yes, but you also just, you know, look so relaxed. and to photograph you in this state, a state others don’t see you in – it feels, I don’t know, intimate.”

in spite of the discomfort, she can’t help but feel her mouth twitch. she lingers on your hopeful face, then sighs, reaching over for her box of cigarettes. “fine.”

“ugh, lee, you’ll stink up the room!”

“the window’s open.” she leans back on her headboard, lifting one leg to rest on her bed. “and I need something to do.”

your desire to capture her seems to outweigh your concern of the scent, for her words make you roll your eyes and mutter out, “fine.”

and so, you do. just as last time, lee doesn’t stare at you as you bend in all sorts of angles to photograph her. she rests her eyes on her sheets, her walls, anything that can take some of her focus away from what you’re doing. she takes drag after drag, rays of hot sunlight hitting her leg as the jazzy tones of the song play.

when you seem satisfied, ready to place the camera on the desk, she cocks her head. is that it? did you only want pictures of her? “what about you?”

“no, no,” you respond, shaking your head with a smile. “I feel too awkward.”

she hums, pushing her cigarette into the ashtray, wanting to respect your comfortability. but, then, she lingers on it. if she had a photo of you, she could paste it on her wall. or carry it in her wallet. and have something to remember this moment, and last night, permanently. “can I take one?”

“why?”

she hesitates, the honesty of the confession holding her back for a moment. “I want to have something of you.”

this makes your eyes crinkle, and you hand the camera to her. “okay.”

it takes a few minutes of you showing her how to use it, and she finds herself fascinated by all the gears and mechanics. she wonders if you still have the pamphlet with the guide so she can look through it later.

when you seat yourself on her bed, she reaches out to brush your hair back before leaning back, squinting through the viewfinder and snapping a photo. the knowledge that once these get developed, she’ll have a photo of you, fills her with an unexpected bout of eagerness, and she wants more.

“can I, um, take another one?”

you laugh loudly. “okay.”

“here, do something else.”

“like what?”

she shrugs, looking around her room. there’s barely any space for you to use to pose around, nor does she have any dolls or stuffed animals you can hold. but, she does have her window.

“stand in front of the window.” her fingers itch in anticipation. she used to do this all the time as a child. somewhere in her home is a pile of polaroids containing the random objects and sightings she used to snap photos of. “the lighting will look good.”

“you seem pretty adept at this,” you drawl, following her request and leaning your body into the corner by her window.

she sits on her bed, raising the camera and leaning back slightly to get both you and the window. “I used to photograph as a child.”

“really? of what?”

“dolls I had, trinkets my mom kept, things outside, sometimes even strangers.”

you tilt your head onto the wall with a corner of your lip tucked up. “I’m sure you made many people feel either a boost of confidence or a total lack of it.”

she quietly laughs. she wasn’t aware at that time of the social cues and nuances of privacy contained in photographing someone. for her, it had been as simple as seeing something interesting, and photographing it. that’s it.

though, photographing you isn’t just about how interesting you look. being older means being more aware of just how much photography serves in reminding her of a different time, and how much it does to encapsulate a moment in a single image. so, to photograph you right now feels like something she needs to handle with care. these photos will, years from now, be the only tangible thing she has of this first morning with you. most of all, they possess your form in it, and that’s enough reason to be attentive in her actions.

“you should pick it back up, lee.”

she hums. she hasn’t thought of it lately. once she got into high school, she started doing it less and less, focusing more on her academics and slowly letting her creative hobbies wane. every now and then, she had returned to it, but in the last year, drawing and photography were practices that had almost completely vanished from her life. she misses it. it had always given her, at least for a few hours, a sense of direction and purpose, and in doing so, steadied her mind and thoughts. but, whenever she now thinks of picking it back up, it feels like there’s always something more productive she can be doing. she also feels partially afraid of potentially trying and realizing she’s lost her touch.

but, doing this with you definitely rewards her with some motivation. she feels that same single-minded focus she did as a child, her attention completely pinpointed in capturing your face just right under the sun. while waiting for her to adjust, you turn to stare out the window. the golden light casts on you just right, and she immediately presses down on the button.

at the noise of it, you turn back to her, eyebrows drawn in petulantly. “hey, I wasn’t looking!”

she shrugs, setting down the camera. “candid.” you looked beautiful too, but that she keeps to herself.

though, as she glances at you, she thinks that maybe she shouldn’t. you’re still pouting at her, slowly walking over to her.

when you reach her, palm cupping her cheek, she gulps before murmuring, “you’re beautiful.”

you squirm a bit, then crawl into her lap, straddling her. she immediately grips your thighs, holding you steady. at this angle, desire is pooling between her legs, mind flooded with images from the night before.

your arms wind about her neck. “and you’re sweet.”

“no. just honest.”

and a bit too close to being fully enamoured with you. but, that she definitely keeps to herself.

#s.writing #does it happen in a season?#lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #lee harker #longlegs (2024)#longlegs #longlegs fanfiction

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poppitron360 · 2 days ago

Text

Theories/Predictions in no particular order:

That box has something important inside. I think you might’ve mentioned Jason’s sketches of Leo, so I suppose that could be it. I predict that that’ll be what made Leo realise he loved Jason Like That

Leo meets his mom in the underworld. There’s gonna have to be a reason why Leo couldn’t bring her back too, unless he does. Idk I’m fixated on EPIC the musical and the Underwold saga is my favourite so I’m picturing something like that.

Idk if this would happen but I really wanna see some Leo/Beckendorf interactions taking place. Maybe Jason got to talking with him in Elysium and they became friends but he’s sad because Beckendorf and Silena remind him so much of Leo and Piper.

Leo talks with Nico and/or Hazel about his underworld trip before going. I don’t know if Nico would be supportive, because he seemed pretty unhappy about Leo coming back from the dead, and he also had this whole thing in botl where he chose not to exchange Daedalus’ life for Bianca’s that everyone including Rick forgot about- but he also brought back Hazel just like how Leo brought back Jason, so…

But Nico posing the argument of “maybe death should not be messed with” might be interesting. Rick kinda tried to do that in canon but then half-arsed it

Going off on a tangent here, but that’s the interpretation that I personally choose to go with, with the whole “Leo coming back was the reason Jason died” thing. Not that he cheated the prophecy, just that he cheated death and Hades or the gods or the fates or whoever (my theory is Nemesis, who’s all about keeping balance) decided as punishment Jason would die- so any sort of repercussions for Leo bringing Jason back (effectively cheating death twice) would be interesting to explore, but I understand if that just makes Plot harder to Plot.

Also some Leo/Hazel interactions- especially after Leo giving up his life to stop Gaea just like Hazel did and being given a second chance (we were robbed of that in TOA). Hazel has experience from the other end of that as Nico basically Orpheus and Eurydice’d her himself.

I feel like Leo blaming himself for Jason’s death might all come spilling out in a big dramatic moment at some point. Either with Piper or Jason or both.

Idk if he’d tell Emmie and Jo about where he’s going but either way I don’t think they’d let him so it’d be interesting to see how you handle that.

Not really a prediction but just… canonically Jason was still in his school uniform when he died… just leaving that there.

Thanatos shows up. Idk how but I think it’d be cool if he shows up.

Once they get out of the underworld, Leo and Jason just start sobbing. Bonus points if that’s the first time they cry together. I hc Jason doesn’t cry very often, so any moments that he does could be very powerful. I’m thinking something along the lines of the book “Lord of The Flies” when they get rescued and all the kids just sort of break down crying, weeping for all of humanity. Something angsty like that.

““Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important.” OOH PIPER’S GAYDAR WAS TINGLING WASN’T IT??

Feel free to use this as inspiration for anything (although I’m running the risk of Telling You How To Write Your Fic which I don’t wanna do). I realise some of this might be way off so I’ll be sitting here with my bingo card when the full fic is posted to see what comes up.

Also English is your THIRD language and your grammar in fics is still better than those to whom it’s their FIRST??!! I tip my hat to thee.

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing.

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again.

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning.

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual.

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world.

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn.

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling.

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew.

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked.

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant.

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think.

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner.

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea.

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation.

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor.

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried.

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack.

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?”

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this.

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now.

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with.

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again.

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

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