#rotpl fanfic

[sapphosclown]

It’s How Guys Talk

Cynthia is a virgin and a lesbian and lives in the 1950s. For better or worse, she decides Gil is her best bet for advice.

aka cynthia goes to big brother gil for a sex talk

This is not smut, they are simply talking about their feelings. Also Cynthia and Lydia are out to their inner circles.

———

Things were going good. Too good. Good enough that Cynthia was starting to understand that feeling Jane had talked about, waiting for a bomb to drop.

It’s been easier than she imagined, being with Lydia. During rehearsals they’d find ways to hold hands without making a scene about it, Floyd and Arthur would help hide it as well. Not that they thought the rest of the thespians would care, but they were afraid of chatter.

They’d go to the drive in, they’d meet up on the concessions roof and “watch” the movie from there. It’s surprisingly easy access and also weirdly private. They’d hangout on weekends. Sometimes weeknights when Cynthia’s dad gets stuck at the shop and Lydia’s parents think they have homework or rehearsing to do.

Getting alone time, weirdly, was not the problem.

It was easy being around Lydia. She laughed at her jokes, when she didn’t laugh she’s roll her eyes and Cynthia would bug her until she finally gave in and laughed at the dumb joke. Lydia would help Cynthia with her english homework, Cynthia would run lines with Lydia.

They would tell stories, secrets. Tell each other about their pasts. One night at the drive in, the movie playing was one Cynthia’s mom had liked. Lydia saw she had been acting weird about it, and to both their surprise Cynthia had opened up about it. Cynthia really hates vulnerability, but with Lydia, it wasn’t so scary.

So simply being with each other, also not the problem.

Eventually, all that other stuff ends up the same way. If Lydia is doing her homework, she’s not giving Cynthia attention. So, Cynthia will, very maturely, steal something from Lydia. Which, she will not return until she receives a kiss. And who’s Lydia to say no, she needs her pencils after all.

Rehearsing is always easier when fully committed as they both know, so they’re sure not to skip over any kisses. And sometimes they forget to go back to the play. Most of the time.

Cynthia could kiss Lydia forever, whenever. She’s got her trapped under a spell and she doesn’t even care. She’s a lovesick puppy and that’s fine by her.

So kissing, in itself, is not the problem.

No, the problem is that kissing is so good, and it has recently become… intense. Their contact becoming closer, their hands wandering further, and their layers getting less and less. And it’s all so good.

But Cynthia always stops.

She doesn’t want to. She really, really doesn’t want to. But eventually the intensity becomes overwhelming and she just, full stops. She gets lost after some point and doesn’t want to mess anything up. So Lydia goes home, and Cynthia lays in her bed kicking herself.

Lydia is always nice about it, but Cynthia can’t help but feel like she’s disappointing her. If she’s honest, she’s disappointing herself.

She doesn’t want to mess it up. It’s not like they give much sex ed about straight relationships, and there’s definitely nothing to help out a gay virgin. At least straight people have something to work with to figure it all out. For her, it felt hopeless.

But she had to do something, she was starting to go a little crazy. So, she called the only person she could think of.

***

“I want to have sex.”

“Jesus, Cynthia, my ears.” Gil cringed from behind the wheel of his car. Cynthia had called him up out of nowhere and said it was urgent. So, he got there as quick as he could. However, those were not the first words he wanted to hear when she hopped into the passenger seat.

“No, Gil, seriously, I need your help.”

“I’m not having sex with you Cynthia.”

“Ew, gross! Not with you, dumbass.” Cynthia hit him in the arm. “With Lydia. Obviously.”

“Okay? Then do it I don’t know what you want from me.” Gil held his arm where she had punched him and he watched her expression soften.

“It’s not that easy.” She said as she sat back in the seat and crossed her arms.

“What do you mean?” He shifted to face her more. She just looked out the windows for a second.

“You know what, this was stupid. I’m sorry—” She opened the door and started to leave but Gil pulled her back inside.

“Hey, kid, look I’m sorry, ok? What’s up, you can talk to me.”

Cynthia looked at him and sighed. She could tell her face was starting to get red but she hoped he would assume it’s from the heat.

“Things with Lydia have been good, great even. It’s just… Things have been starting to feel more… Intense. And it’s a good intense, don’t get me wrong,” They both chuckled. “But I feel like we’re wanting to go further but I just don’t know… how.”

Gil was looking at her and any awkwardness he was feeling he was hiding very well, which Cynthia appreciated because she knew she was not doing so herself.

“Cynth, I wanna help you, I do, but it’s different for you.”

“I know!” She covered her face with her hands. “I know that. And I know I tease but you know more about handling women than I do. You’re my best bet right now.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. “Okay. How far have you gotten.”

Cynthia glanced at him and then shy’d back to the window. “Second.” She said, trying to suppress a smile. Gil chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“Not bad kid, not bad.”

She shooed him off of her and started fixing her bangs. “Yeah yeah, but what do we do after?”

“Well, you’ve got to keep it casual. You can’t put too much expectation into it or else it’s gonna fall flat. And you’ve got to make sure she’s okay with everything going forward. Hey,” He looked Cynthia in the eyes. “I’m serious about that. You make sure you’re both comfortable and if not you stop. You understand?” He pointed at her, she nodded. “Out loud.”

“I understand.”

“Okay. From there, you might not like this answer but, you’ve really just got to feel it out.” Cynthia groaned. “I know, but your body will know what it wants, and if you’re talking to each other, you’ll know what she wants.”

Cynthia sat with that idea for a minute. She knew she wanted more. She could imagine what that might entail, but there were so many what if’s, so many unknowns. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk it.

“What if I do it wrong.” She says quietly.

“I’m not gonna lie to you kid, you might.” He sighs. “You’ll probably be a little nervous, it will more likely than not be awkward,”

“You’re not building my confidence.”

“But. You guys have been together for long enough now, all of that is part of the magic. You mess up and then you guys laugh it off and try again. And, you can change your mind and stop at any point. It feels like a big deal, and I’m not saying it’s not, but don’t stress about it.”

Cynthia breathed out a laugh. “Thanks Gilliam.” She punched him in the arm again, playful this time.

“Don’t sweat it. It’s what guys do.”

She smiled at that. “Any other tips and tricks?”

Gil pondered for a moment. “A little teasing never hurts.” He says looking out at the road, a smirk forming. Cynthia nodded, trying to hide the awkwardness she’s feeling. He continued, “And you know… foreplay is—“

“Ew, gross, never mind don’t tell me I don’t wanna know.” She shut down and refused to look at him.

“I would say use protection but I don’t really know how you’d,”

“Ugh, Gil I said gross.” Cynthia shuddered as she opened the car door and got out.

“You’re welcome!” Gil shouted as she left, chuckling to himself.

***

Cynthia’s dad is working late. She knows he won’t be home for a while. So, she invites Lydia over. Currently, they’re both in her room. This is cool. Cool cool cool.

“So, what are your plans for the—“ Lydia starts but is quickly cut off my Cynthia practically pouncing on her and starting a passionate kiss. They eventually break apart and Lydia mutters quickly, “I can get on board with this.” They both chuckle and return back to each other.

It was heated and a little sloppy and desperate and fun, god was it fun. Cynthia could feel all her thoughts and anxieties welling in her head but she suppressed them as far as she could and just kept kissing and kissing and kissing.

She eventually found the courage to move her kisses from Lydia’s lips down to her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone.

“Cynthia?” She heard Lydia’s voice but it sounded far away. “Hey, Cynth,” She felt Lydia’s hands gently pulling her face back to eye level.

“Why’d you stop? Did I do something wrong?” Cynthia asked.

“No, no not at all you were… It was very nice.” She giggled. “I just, wanted to check on you.” She said it calmly. A glint in her eye telling Cynthia she knows something.

“Yeah, no yeah I’m good I’m ready to go if you are.” She leaned in for another kiss but Lydia pulled back.

“Cyn.” She stroked her cheekbone with her thumb. “Talk to me.”

Cynthia looked at her girlfriend and sighed as she rolled off to the side of her and sat criss-crossed on her bed.

“Things have been going so good. I really really like being with you in ways I can’t even explain with words. And I really like kissing you. Like, so much.” Lydia smiled at that. “I just, when things start to get heated… I don’t know I panic. It’s not that I don’t want to do other things with you obviously, it’s just… scary.” Cynthia’s voice was small, she kept her gaze focused on the piece of her comforter she was picking at.

She watched as Lydia’s hand took her fidgety one and looked up to meet her eyes. “It’s scary for me too.” She said.

“It is?” Cynthia breathed.

“Yes! It’s scary to be intimate like that, and I’ve never done it before with anyone, so I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“Oh my god.” Cynthia let out a sigh and rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder as the other girl laughed. “I was so worried I’d mess something up and you’d think I was terrible at sex and break up with me.”

“I would never.” Lydia chuckled. Cynthia giggled along side her.

They sat like that for a moment. Letting the comfortable silence wash over them as Cynthia embraced the comfort of the crook of Lydia’s neck. It was nice. She liked this.

“Hey,” Lydia broke their silence and turned her head to Cynthia, using her finger to gently guide her face up from her shoulder. “Let’s take it slow, alright? We’re not in a rush. Whatever happens, happens. Okay?”

Cynthia nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both smiled into another kiss. This one soft and tender. A signature to the deal they’ve just made. Sweet.

Lydia pulled away first, leaving Cynthia chasing after her. “Why don’t we watch TV.” Lydia whispered, scanning Cynthia’s face before getting up from the bed and heading to the living room. Cynthia watched in awe after her girlfriend as she walked away. Turns out Gil was right, a little teasing didn’t hurt.

———

a/n: Gil and Cynthia friendship is actually so important to me they are so siblings. Our sweet thesbians don’t know a thing about sex but I’m sure they figure it out one day, not today though. They do make out practically the entire time they’re watching tv though. Cynthia does stop to sing along to the Ipana commercial and Lydia calls her dumb but let’s her finish.

ps if you read all the way through this you should check out this edit i made of them bc i really like it and would like if it got some more love that’s all thank you for reading <3

[lavenderwritesstuff]

Fic idea:

I watched the Heathers the Musical pro shot last night, and I cannot stop thinking about the idea of Cynthia as JD. If I wrote an AU fic where Rydell does Heathers and Cynthia is JD and Lydia is Veronica, would any of you read it??

[okaybut-merelyplayers]

I both hate and love small fandoms. I feel so close to y'all but also what do you MEAN I've read all the fics under this tag??

[iguana-eyanna]

Could I request Gil x reader based on the song ‘washing machine heart’ where she is dating him and it’s been perfect for the both of him but the lyric “I know who you pretend I am because no matter how much Gil likes the reader…he will always love Olivia

T🪽Birds request: Two Hearts, Broken

You and Gil were in his car, silently driving to your house at night.

You just came from a fun night with everyone at the bowling alley. The T-Birds and the Pink Ladies were in mixed teams and everyone was having a good time.

But you couldn't shake the feeling of Gil when he was around Olivia. When you first dated, he told you that he had liked Olivia before, but it never led to anything else. You believed what he said, but you looked at how Gil and Olivia would cheer when they score or steal each other's glances, smiling like they hold a secret.

And that's when you asked Gil to take you home.

He knew too, that you didn't deserve that. He really liked you, truly he did. But when it came to Olivia, he felt weak. As you both saw the front of your house, he parked and turned off his car.

Gil tried to think of what to say. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to say that you were the only one for him. But somehow, you were the first to say it.

"I know who you pretend I am."

Gil falls silent as he looks away from your stinging eyes. You both know the truth, but neither would admit the truth. But now it lingered in the air like smoke, making it hard to breathe.

Gil looks at you, knowing that he broke your heart and your love.

"I don't want you to be anyone else." Gil said.

You give a dry chuckle as you brush your tears away.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

An uncomfortable silence falls between you again and you say a more painful truth.

"I think it's best if we should take a break."

Gil said your name but you pause him.

"We both know we can't go on like this. I need to think on us and... maybe you need to figure things out."

He felt his heart being ripped out of his ribcage, but he forced himself to nod his head.

He still went out of his side and opened your door to walk you to your front porch.

As you were about to go inside your house, Gil called out.

"I'm not going to give up on us." he said. You don't reply back and you go inside, closing the door as you sunk to the ground, hugging your knees as you cried.

You hear his car drive away. Some part of you knows that he never wanted to hurt you.

But his heart belonged to someone else... and unfortunately, it wasn't you.

[captain-shortyyy]

love how everyone in the fandom just calls cynthia’s dad “Papa Zdunowski”

[nameless-formless-entity]

i would like to thank the rotpl ladies soundtrack for soundtracking my 5 hour drive back to school. additionally i would like to thank the drive for fic ideas that i have no idea how to write

[gleefulbrie]

"But now she’s got a girlfriend and, even still, Cynthia finds herself utterly weak in the knees.

That’s love, she guesses. It just keeps getting better and better."

Or, Cynthia and Lydia go on a picnic date and are in love.

happy pride month! I need more cynthia x lydia fics in my life, and so I decided to finally write one of my own. check it out on ao3 if you're interested in a fluffy one-shot of my favorite 1950s lesbians <3

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

I need you all to know that I’m considering A Little Too Deeply the fact that Cynthia is the only pink lady whose family we haven’t met? Like we know more about the t-birds families than hers (and most of the soc’s families tbh)

Her house may have been the one we’ve spent the most time in (other than jane’s) and her family is NEVER there (to the extent she and Lydia could make out consistently for what was presumably weeks without being even slightly concerned about being caught) we don’t see ANYONE coming to see her in the play or being worried when she wasn’t there and no one seems to be home when she gets back clearly miserable from the dance

Like I know logically, as a Show with Pacing, it’s probably just because she’s got enough going on and her family doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things but also SHES A KID??? She’s got SUCH clear issues with Belonging and Not Wanting To Be Emotionally Invested In Something Incase She Just Gets Hurt Later which is definitely mostly just a queer teen in the 1950s thing but also does part of it stem from her being PROBABLY AT LEAST A LITTLE NEGLECTED AT HOME????

anyway I am overthinking about that

(ALSO I know we see that one dudes arm in like the second episode but thats it and all that establishes is she Has A Guardian and we’ve NEVER SEEN OR HEARD about him again)

[legallyanxious]

BEGGING (hands and knees) for more Cynthia coming out fics. ESPECIALLY coming out to the t-birds. Not to mention fics with Cynthia and the t-birds having their chaotic sibling dynamic

And.. dare I say.... Edward self acceptance AND coming out fics??🥺🥰

[jesuswithoutchrist]

The tragic event of going to AO3 after watching a great show and loving the characters, for it to be less than 100 fics in the tag.

Oh Cruel life I hope nothing from you, and still you disappoint me.

[ghostofafruit]

Remember the idea I had to send an immortal Rose Tyler who's looking for teh Doctor again through a bunch of universes she has to stop in? I have a rough timeline for it now! This is all what Rose, after having a life with the metacrisis Doctor does. I'm still unsure how I'll do the reunion, but each of these will be a different fic, probably all oneshots.

Rose Becomes an Actor ⬇ Percy Jackson Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes a singer ⬇ BBC Ghosts Crossover ⬇ US Ghosts Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes a Teacher ⬇ Rose Becomes an Artist ⬇ Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes a Midwife ⬇ Call the Midwife Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes the First Woman on Mars ⬇ Ghostbusters Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes a Ghost Hunter ⬇ MCU/Spider-Man Crossover ⬇ Rose Becomes a Teacher, Again ⬇ Good Omens Crossover

[starrynightmoonlight]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cynthia Zdunowski & Cynthia Zdunowski's Father, Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski Characters: Cynthia Zdunowski, Jane Facciano (mentioned) - Character, Lydia (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies) (mentioned), Cynthia Zdunowski's Father Additional Tags: non-binary cynthia, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, 1950s Summary:

Summer is ending and Cynthia has to finish back-to-school shopping. Their father tags along and shares some wisdom.

Suprise! Look who finally is contributing to the fandom again. 

[lavenderwritesstuff]

I was confused why my ROTPL Heathers the musical AU was getting more kudos and comments this week and then I realized today is September 1st….

Rest assured I will be updating it soon! I plan to update my Bridgeton fic either tomorrow or Tuesday, and then the two ROTPL fics will hopefully get updated on Thursday.

My doctor who fic is still on the back burner for now I’m so sorry 😭🙃

I’m trying to wrap up the fics that are shorter so that I can start posting more regular updates on the other ones

[okaybut-merelyplayers]

Wow it's so funny how unwell I am about fictional characters

[thefae-journal]

tripping the wires

fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies ship: Faccivinos pov: second person, Jane

word count: 3,623 warnings: n/a

summary: That night she snuck in through your bedroom window, drenched from the rain. You helped dry her off with a spare towel from your bathroom, and everything seemed to fall into place.

- "i want more (just not this)"

Also on AO3

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies masterlist masterlist

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

This is where it started. Under the bleachers, you approached her while her head was buried in a book. You don’t remember which book it was, but that detail doesn’t matter. Like it was nothing, she told you off. Her words cut deep. 

Take a glass half full and drown in it then. 

Yet, there she was, standing with you on stage after she was the first person to endorse you. Stood and flashed her ass to the entire eleventh grade, with you. 

Stole Gil’s car. Made you buttons—and kissed every one of them. Snuck out of detention. Tried her best to make sure that people didn’t hate you.

For you. Everything she did. Does . That can’t just go ignored. And it doesn’t. 

She didn’t let you drown, no matter how full the glass was and how much it overflowed. 

You thought that this was normal friendship stuff. This was how friendships worked. You’ve never had any friends, not in the first fifteen years of your life. Not really, not like this. And just like that, that wasn’t how it was anymore. So suddenly, Olivia Valdovinos held your hand and didn’t let go. Couldn’t let go. 

At the Frosty Palace, your hand brushed hers on the seat of the booth, under the table. You were sitting beside her, and Nancy, who was off the clock but still in her uniform, was on the other side of you. Then Cynthia was next to Nancy, and Hazel on the other side of Olivia. Chatter of winter break plans floated through the somewhat empty Frosty Palace. Slow day. 

“I’ll have to come here as much as I can,” Olivia said. “To see all of you, but most of break, I’ll be with my family. Now that Richie is back—” She shook her head, her curls slightly bouncing. “I can’t stay away from you for too long. I might go insane.”

Everyone laughed, even you—a light giggle that leaped from your tongue. 

“What about you, Jane? Not seeing us every day, how will you survive?” she teased, and nudged your shoulder with her own. “Won’t you miss me?” On the light blue leather of the booth, pinkies touched, then linked. As if it was normal. Right. 

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you bowed your head and stared at your hands. How your pinkies fitted so well together. You imagined what it would be like if it was her whole hand. Her whole hand captured by yours, embraced by yours. But you already knew what that felt like—she held your hand at the fall carnival. That was different… somehow.

“Of course I’ll miss my Pinks. I love you guys, but break is only a week, and we can still hang out.” 

“I would like that,” Hazel chimed in. “It’s been a few weeks since we’ve had a sleepover, all together.” 

Sleepover. You lifted your gaze, and Olivia was the first in your view. With no effort at all, her just existing, being, sweeping locks of her hair over her shoulder, your breath hitched like it was stuck in your throat and couldn’t properly be expelled. Her hair had gotten a little longer since the fall, before Thanksgiving. What you would give to run your hand through it…

This didn’t make any sense. She was your best friend, just your best friend. Nothing else beyond that. And friends… they didn’t think of each other like that, in that way. When she smiled, it warmed you from the inside out. This warmth sat in your stomach, crawled through every vein in your body. Blood boiled to a simmer that rose to your cheeks—flush. 

When she looked at you, touched your shoulder and her thumb brushed along the material of your dress. Every time she was at your side during the days that were sour. You’re enough. 

You’re Jane. 

Her little chuckle when those words came out of her mouth. 

How you wished then that she tucked your hair behind your ear. Just a little. Only a little.

Olivia squeezed your pinkie, and you were brought back to Nancy’s hand waving in front of your face. 

“Hello, Earth to Jane,” Nancy said, retracting her hand. “Did you hear anything I said?” 

“I—” You glanced around the table, at each of the Pink Ladies. Hazel and Olivia’s genuine concern, Nancy’s very clear annoyance that she might have to repeat everything. You couldn’t read Cynthia, her head tilted to the side. But her eyes seemed focused, studying you almost, for a moment before she blinked it away. “No.” 

“Where was that head of yours, huh?” It was no longer just pinkies, but full hands clasped together. Olivia moved them to her lap, and keeping your composure after spacing out became harder to do. “You’re always running, Janey. Slow down for a second.” 

Janey.

Nancy groaned and crossed her arms over the table. “Sleepover. My house instead of yours.” 

“O-okay? Are you asking or…?” 

“Yes, I’m asking!” 

“You know you didn’t have to ask. I’ve always wondered why none of you ever offered to do a Pink Ladies sleepover not…” You paused, feeling Olivia’s fingers spread yours apart so hers could fit in between. You opened your mouth to at least try to say something. Nothing came out. You couldn’t finish what you were saying because Olivia caught your tongue or zippered your lips shut. 

Hazel adjusted her glasses. “Not… what?” 

You cleared your throat. “I… um…” 

Sweat built up in the cracks of your palms, even the one Olivia was holding. That meant that she would feel it. That meant that she would know you were nervous—because your hands were always sweaty when you were nervous or flustered. That meant that Olivia would ask you if something was wrong. That meant that Olivia would be more concerned than she already was. Maybe ask more questions than you could handle. 

Your grip on Olivia’s hand tightened, uncomfortably tightened, and you started feeling the pressure of the Pinks’ eyes on you. Waiting. Waiting for anything to leave your mouth. One word. The slightest noise. A single breath. 

Olivia’s other hand found yours, now enveloped, like a hug. And for a moment, you eased, finally exhaled. “Jane? Are you—?” 

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I just need to, um…” You gestured to Nancy and Cynthia to leave the booth. Once they did, a bit confused as to why they had to, your hand slipped out of Olivia’s, and you slid out of the booth like it was fire under you. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. Breathe. Fucking breathe. 

You rushed to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet of one of the sinks and let the water run. Your hands rested at either side of the sink, grasping at the white. If nails could dig into porcelain, make a dent, yours would. 

What the hell was wrong with you? Your eyes met the matching ones in the mirror. Your face was all red, eyes close to watering. You sniffled. “Fuck.” 

“Jane?” It was Cynthia.

You jumped and twisted the knobs of the faucet to stop the cold water from flowing. You dried your eyes. 

You didn’t even hear the door open. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured her. “I just—” 

She leaned back against the bathroom door. “You like Olivia, don’t you?” 

You did. Do. When those words crept to your ears, reality set in. Truth set in. It was out there. Cynthia knew—just by how you looked at her. There was no more escaping it. There was no more not knowing what this was. What your feelings were. What they meant. 

After your talk with Cynthia, you went back to the booth, sat next to Olivia like you weren’t just telling Cynthia how your whole heart would swell at the sight of her barely minutes ago. She leaned close to you to whisper into your ear: “Are you okay?” 

You nodded. 

You wish you don’t have to hide from her.

Almost midnight, and you are lying in your bed, tucked in, lights off. All you can think about is her. Your mind simply won’t shut itself off even though it needs to because the tiredness in your body is reaching your eyes, and they are starting to ache. You try to rub them awake with your knuckles, but it doesn’t soothe the sleep that’s bound to catch them. 

Rain pounds against the roof, and although this usually lulls you to sleep, tonight, it’s ineffective, as you toss and turn. Pull the comfort close, then shove it away, then pull it close again. Scream into your pillow. Cry. So much crying. Out of frustration. Pain—internal pain. Pain that makes it seem like your chest is tight or your stomach is upset, but it’s just the result of every single thought passing through your brain that you’re struggling to piece together because of how fast they’re going. 

On your stomach, you bury your face in your pillow, hugging it—the same position you sleep in when you have cramps. The pressure to your stomach makes it better, relieves the spasms that plague you. You wonder if the pressure of your forehead pushed in the pillow would do the same—flip that thinking switch, turn it off. Like Olivia said: slow down. 

You laugh. Slow down? Jane Facciano, slow down? That’s too much like a fantasy. 

Jane Facciano doesn’t slow down. Not in her head. Not in her body. 

Unfortunately. 

Not when Olivia is stuck in the webs. Not when you can’t stop thinking about kissing—

Shut up. Just shut up. 

Shut up. 

As if your brain is listening, it goes quiet, except for the tapping of glass. Tapping that isn’t inside your brain at all, but outside of it. At your window. 

Slow, you fold the comforter over, put on your glasses, and approach the window. Lights still off, darkness encasing your bedroom. No shadows linger on the carpet floor or the pink walls, until you pull open the curtain, and bits of the street lights shine through. On the other side of the window is Olivia, soaked—her hair, her clothes, her skin, her face. 

“God, Olivia.” You wave your hand down, signaling for her to duck, before pushing the window open. You help her climb in, then close the window so rain doesn’t get in and dampen the cushion of the window seat. 

When you turn, she's standing in front of you, a victim of the downpour. But still, beautiful. So damn beautiful. 

In her wet clothes, she shivers, and seeing her chin and lips quiver, you guide her to your bathroom without a word. Shut the door. Lights on.

You grab a towel from the closet and wrap it around her shoulders. She tugs the towel at the corners, seeking more of it so her elbows are under it too. With your hands on her arms, you check over her—her face, her body—to make sure that she’s okay. Physically anyway. And besides being soaked from head to toe, she seems like she is. 

“I’m going to get you dry clothes, okay? Wait here.” You turn to leave the bathroom, but her fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You go back to where you once were, your hands on her arms. You stroke them. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice a low hum in the quiet of the bathroom. 

Olivia, oddly, avoids your eyes, staring down at the cream tile floor. You’ve never seen her like this. So frail and broken. A cat shoved into a corner with no possible way to flee. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers.

“Liv, I…” You pause, a long beat as you gather your words. “I’m here. You’re not alone, I promise. You need to get out of these wet clothes before you get sick. I’ll be back, okay? I’ll be gone…” You wipe away drops of water trailing down her cheeks from the rain, water dripping from her hair. “...only for a second. Well, um, not literally a second.” 

She laughs, then nods, giving you permission to go now. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be back,” you say.

But you don’t go. You lose yourself in her. The softness and vulnerability of the moment. The way her eyes finally meet yours. How her eyes are less brown under these lights. More blue. Or is it green? A combination of the two maybe. Either way, they’re— 

They truly are something special. Just like she is. 

You know that if you were to place your hand over your heart, it would be pounding, fast. If you leave, fetch her new clothes like you said you will, it might even out. Not be as fast as you imagine it is. Thumping, like when Fran used to jump from one stair to the next a few years ago instead of walking up them. If she touches you, your wrist, any spot that radiates a pulse, will she feel it, too? 

“I’ll be back,” you repeat with a heavy breath, and this time, you do go, the door left open behind you so she can see you. 

She can see you turn on one of your lamps, the one closest to your bed. She can see you at your dresser, browsing through each drawer. She can see you venturing into your closet, hear you humming to yourself. She can see you as you settle on pajama shorts and a long-sleeve button-up. Baby blue, no pattern. You give them to her, and she can’t see you anymore.

...

No, I… What makes you think that I do? She’s my best friend. I can’t— 

You surrendered. Is it that obvious?

Yes, but even if it wasn't, it just makes sense. 

What Cynthia said holds weight within your body. 

You’re practically attached at the hip. Wherever we are, you’re always next to each other. 

When Olivia quit the Pink Ladies, it was like you were going through a divorce. 

I know you’ve been having Pink Ladies sleepovers without us. Is it even a Pink Ladies sleepover if it’s only you and Olivia?

For the first time, you released every bit of your feelings for her. Said the scary parts out loud.

You wanted to be close to her. Always.

You couldn’t stand being away from her, and you truly thought that winter break was going to kill you if you couldn’t see her at least once during that week. 

You liked when she held your hand. You liked when it was just you and her, alone. 

Her abandoning her Pink Ladies jacket at your house felt like a break-up. The worst break-up that hit you hard, harder than you expected it to. 

That night, you wore her jacket to bed. Sobbed into your pillow. All because you thought you lost the most amazing person you had ever met. 

Your mom came into your room, hearing your sobs from down the hall, and she didn’t understand. She tried her best to comfort you, but it couldn’t stop the crack from forming in your chest where your heart resided. 

And when Olivia chose you, chose the Pink Ladies instead of getting married, you never felt more relieved. You wanted to cry right then and there, but kept it together, for her. That was what she needed. 

That is what she needs after walking through the rain, climbing up the wall garden and to your bedroom. You’ll do that, mute your aching just for a moment. Whatever she needs. 

I like Olivia. Maybe I even… love… her. 

You sit on your bed, your legs crossed like a soft pretzel, and you brush Olivia’s hair. Untangle it of the knots that came because of the rain. You’re gentle with her, slowly moving the brush from the top of her head to the tips that end below her shoulders. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

Olivia lowers her head, and you adjust to her movements, her posture. “Richie wants to ask you to… to… go with him.” 

You stop. 

“We had a fight. It woke my little cousins. He’s never—” She sniffles and brings her knees to her chest. “He’s never yelled at me like that before. We don’t… yell at each other. He was so angry, Janey.” 

You���re not sure you comprehend it. How an argument started from Richie wanting to try again with you. If anything, you’re flattered that he does. But… Richie is history. You have your eyes on someone else now, someone you can’t have. You have to pay the price for it. 

Falling for a girl. Falling for your best friend. 

You shake your head and continue brushing her hair. It’s not dripping anymore—just damp. 

“I said something that I shouldn’t have. It was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking. If I kept my mouth shut—” Olivia hiccups. “Girls aren’t allowed to have what they want. They have to take what they’re given and accept it. I didn’t… couldn’t accept it because what I want is too strong.” 

You finish up the last strands of her hair and set your brush down. All nice and smooth, like it should be. You know it’ll be soft once it dries, even if she doesn’t tend to it, pin it up, style it. “Your voice is just as important as his, if not more important.” You comb your fingers through her hair. “It’s important to me. You’re…” 

You’re important to me. 

Olivia looks over her shoulder at you, tears brimming her eyes. “I wish everyone was like you, Jane. I think life would be better if they were.” 

Your hand finds her back and lingers for a moment, before rubbing it up and down, hoping to calm her pending tears, the sadness that rules over her. “I think life would be better if everyone was like you.” 

“What? No, Jane, you don’t have to say that to—”

“I’m not. I mean it.” 

She sharply turns and hugs you, her arms around your neck. Despite the change in position, your hands still rest on her back. And your stomach, well, your stomach feels fuzzy. 

And you, you feel alive. 

As she buries her nose in your hair. 

How her fingers play with the baby curls on your neck. 

How this feels so… right, and it’s a hug. Just a hug. You’ve hugged her plenty of times before. But this hug, here, carries every single ounce of love that feels like home. 

“It upsets me when people don’t see it, don’t see you outside of… of your body and your looks. You have a beautiful brain inside that head of yours, Liv. And a beautiful heart. One of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. If people don’t see that, see who you truly are, it’s their loss,” you say. “I see you. I always have.” You pull away, only a little, enough to see her face and the tears present on her cheeks. “Olivia, you’re allowed to want things, even if the world says you can’t have them.” 

You already know. There are so many things you would beg to have, but the world isn’t kind. The world can give you a home one day and betray you the next. The world can give you love one day and rip it out of your arms the next. The pain it drops on you is too much to bear. The feelings you have for Olivia, the tugging it does of your limbs, is too much. 

It’s all too much, and there’s nothing you can do to escape it. Even when the world says it’s not right. Even when the world says it’s bad. Even when the world won’t let you love her because loving her causes the tide to travel in the wrong direction. 

But the wrong direction is the right direction. For you, this is what’s right. You and Olivia. This want to be with her, more than a friend would. And if you come crashing, you’ll crash together. 

If she wants this, too. If she wants… 

What if she doesn’t? What if all of this is just you?

Yet, you wipe her tears away with your thumbs as if it’s not. As if it is the both of you. She is in this, too. When she relaxes into your touch, you start to wonder… unless she’s yearning for comfort, any kind of comfort, and she’s not seeing your actions as something romantic.

Until her hand connects with yours, keeping you there on her cheek. “I’m so glad you asked me to be your campaign manager.” Your eyes drift down to her lips as she speaks. “And that I chose you.” 

“I am, too.” 

You don’t mean to do it again. You don’t mean to lean in. You catch your body acting before your mind can approve. You don’t try to stop yourself, because she reciprocates. She looks at your lips, too. She leans in, too. 

Is that why she and Richie fought? Because of you? Did her hand on yours, her soft breaths on your skin, her stolen glances of your lips force her to brave the rain? All the times she held your hand, asked to come over and stay the night, called you during weekends to say hi or that she misses you… 

You exhale and nuzzle your nose against hers. “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?” you whisper. 

Olivia nods, and the feeling you’ve only dreamed of, the feeling you thought you would never get to feel cascades through you, a sudden wave of warmth. A kiss. Her kiss. Her lips on yours. And everything you wanted, everything you thought you couldn’t have, falls into place.

[hore4women]

God I can’t wait for you guys to read the fourth chapter of this fic I’ve been writing. (Cynthia and Gil are fluent in Italian and I will die on that fucking hill.)