opening night

You noticed something was off the second you stepped into Ellie’s apartment. Not wrong—just… off. Too clean. The kind of clean that felt unnatural, like walking into a staged version of her life. The usual clutter was gone: no scattered guitar picks, no open notebooks, no half-finished sketches abandoned mid-thought. Even the couch blankets were folded—folded—instead of piled into the chaotic nest she usually lived in.

You stood there for a second, keys still in your hand, taking it in. “…Ellie?” you called.

There was a loud thud from the bedroom, followed immediately by a strained, “I’m fine!”

You blinked, already smiling. “You don’t sound fine.”

“I said I’m fine—just—don’t come in here!”

That made you pause, amusement settling in your chest. “…you’re doing something weird.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are absolutely doing something weird.”

You slipped your shoes off and wandered further in anyway, your gaze drifting over the suspiciously spotless surfaces. She’d vacuumed. Everything. You almost wanted to take a picture. “Ellie,” you called again, leaning casually against the wall near her door, “if you set something on fire—”

“I didn’t set anything on fire!” she shot back, then quieter, “…this time.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You gonna let me in, or—”

The door flew open so fast it nearly hit you. Ellie stood there, slightly out of breath, like she’d just sprinted across the room. Her hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, flannel slipping off one shoulder in that way she never seemed able to fix. She looked… nervous. Which, for Ellie, meant this mattered.

“Hi,” she said.

You raised a brow, leaning your shoulder into the frame. “Hi.”

She stared at you for a second like her brain had short-circuited, then immediately panicked. “Wait—no, don’t look behind me—” She grabbed your shoulders and physically turned you away from the doorway before you could even try. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Ellie—”

“Give me, like, thirty seconds.”

“You’ve had all day.”

“Okay, rude, but true—still, thirty seconds!” She pointed at you like she was laying down the law. “Stay.”

You bit back a smile. “I’m staying.”

She disappeared back into the room, the door shutting behind her as more quiet chaos unfolded—muttering, a soft clatter, the sound of something being dragged slightly across the floor. “…where the fuck—no, that was supposed to—oh my god,” she whispered to herself, and you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“…Ellie?” you called.

“WAIT.”

You counted to five. Then ten.

Finally, her voice came again, softer this time. “…okay. You can come in.”

You pushed the door open slowly—and stopped.

It wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t be. The bed was half-made, one corner of the sheet slipping loose, and the candles scattered around the room were mismatched and uneven, some already melted crookedly down one side. Fairy lights were strung everywhere in that distinctly Ellie way—not neat, not symmetrical, just draped wherever they could reach, glowing softly in uneven lines. The whole room flickered in warm, golden light, shadows shifting gently against the walls.

And in the middle of it all stood Ellie.

Looking like she didn’t know what to do with herself now that you were seeing it.

“…surprise?” she said, voice a little unsure.

Something in your chest softened instantly. “Ellie…”

“I know it’s kind of a mess,” she rushed out, words tripping over each other. “I had a vision, and then the vision didn’t fully translate, and also I burned my finger earlier, which feels relevant—”

You stepped toward her before she could spiral any further, and she stopped talking immediately. Her shoulders dropped just a little when you got close.

“…hi,” she said again, quieter now.

“Hi.”

You reached up, gently fixing the collar of her flannel where it had twisted, your fingers brushing her skin for just a second. “You did all this?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just—wanted to do something nice. For no reason. Which is a reason, I guess.”

You glanced around again—the candles, the lights, the speaker already set up with a playlist waiting to play—and then back at her. “You cleaned your entire apartment.”

“Don’t bring that part up,” she said quickly. “It ruins the vibe.”

“It improves the vibe.”

“Debatable.”

You laughed softly, then stepped a little closer, your voice gentler now. “Just us is my favorite.”

That did it. You saw it land—the way her expression shifted, the way something in her softened and gave a little under the weight of it. “…cool,” she said, quieter. “Good. That’s—good.”

The music started then, low and soft, filling the space between you without interrupting it. Ellie glanced toward the speaker like it had betrayed her timing, then back at you, suddenly unsure again. “So, um…”

You tilted your head slightly. “So, um?”

She let out a nervous huff of a laugh. “Do you wanna—like—dance? Or is that—too much? Because I can dial it back. We can sit. Sitting is good. I love sitting.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just reached for her hand.

Her fingers curled around yours instantly, like instinct, like they always did.

“Ellie,” you murmured, stepping closer, “dance with me.”

She blinked, then smiled—small at first, then real. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, okay.”

Her hands found your waist, a little hesitant at first, like she was still checking if she was allowed to be there. Yours slid up to her shoulders, then around her neck, pulling her in just enough that she didn’t have to wonder anymore. She came easily, like she’d been waiting for it, like the space between you had been the only thing holding her back.

You started to sway, slow and slightly off-beat, the kind of movement that didn’t care about rhythm so much as closeness. Ellie let out a quiet breath, her grip tightening just a little.

“…this is better than my original plan,” she admitted.

You smiled against her. “Oh? What was your original plan?”

“I was gonna try to be smooth,” she said, already sounding embarrassed. “Had, like, a whole line ready.”

“Let’s hear it.”

She groaned immediately, dropping her forehead to yours. “Nope. Absolutely not. It’s gone now.”

“Ellie—”

“It’s gone!”

You laughed softly, nudging your nose against hers. “Coward.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice warm, fond. “But I’m your coward.”

Your hand shifted, thumb brushing along her cheek, grounding her there with you. She stilled for a second under the touch, then melted into it, her thumb starting to trace slow, absent circles against your side.

“…hey,” she said after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I like this.”

You smiled, your voice just as soft. “Me too.”

She swallowed, something deeper flickering behind her eyes now. “No, I mean… I really like this. You. Being here. With me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured.

Ellie looked at you like that meant everything. Like it settled something in her that had been restless all day.

“…okay,” she whispered.

Then she leaned in.

The kiss was gentle, a little uneven in that way that was so her—warm, unpolished, real. She smiled into it halfway through like she couldn’t help herself, like the feeling of you was already too much in the best way.

When you pulled back, she didn’t let you go far. Her forehead stayed pressed to yours, her breath still mingling with yours in the quiet glow of the room.

“…nailed it,” she murmured.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes flicking to your lips and back, soft and certain now. “But I’m yours.”

And standing there, wrapped in warm light and uneven candles and the quiet hum of something that felt steady and real, you knew—

that was the part that mattered most.

The music kept playing, soft and steady, but neither of you really moved to start another proper dance.

You didn’t need to.

Ellie’s hands stayed at your waist, thumbs still tracing those slow, absent circles like she’d forget where to put them if she stopped. Your arms rested loosely around her shoulders now, fingers idly playing with the ends of her hair where it curled at the nape of her neck. The room felt warmer than it should have, candlelight flickering unevenly across the walls, catching in the soft lines of her face.

For a while, you just stood there.

Close. Quiet. Breathing the same air.

Then Ellie huffed a small laugh under her breath, like she’d just remembered something. “Okay, wait—don’t move.”

You raised a brow. “That sounds suspicious.”

“It’s not suspicious,” she said quickly, already pulling back, hands slipping from your waist like it physically cost her something. “It’s… a surprise.”

“You already did a surprise.”

“No, I didn’t,” she insisted, backing toward her dresser. “That was just ambiance. This is—hold on—this is where I redeem myself.”

“You don’t need redeeming,” you said, watching her crouch down and start digging through one of the drawers, shoving aside what sounded like pencils and loose paper.

“I know,” she muttered. “But I want it anyway.”

There was a soft shuffle of paper, the clink of something small being pushed aside, and then a quiet, “aha.”

She stood back up, but instead of turning to you right away, she just… hovered there for a second. Shoulders slightly hunched. One hand rubbing the back of her neck.

“…don’t laugh,” she said.

Your expression softened instantly. “I’m not gonna laugh.”

“You might,” she mumbled. “It’s kind of—okay, it’s definitely cheesy. But like, in a self-aware way. I think.”

“Ellie.”

“Okay, fine. Shutting up.”

She turned and walked back over, holding something behind her back like she didn’t fully trust herself not to bail last second.

When she stopped in front of you, she hesitated.

Then finally brought it forward.

It wasn’t one thing.

It was a small stack—slightly uneven, edges bent in places—of little sketch pages. Some torn from a notebook, some clearly just whatever paper she could find. They were clipped together with one of those tiny black binder clips.

You blinked. “Ellie…”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, already bracing. “Before you say anything—none of them are, like, amazing. Some are kind of shit. But that’s not the point, so—just—look.”

You took them carefully, like they might fall apart.

The first one was simple.

A quick sketch—loose lines, a little messy—but unmistakably you. Sitting cross-legged on her couch, wearing one of her hoodies that was way too big, sleeves covering your hands.

Underneath, in her handwriting:

you steal my clothes and then act like it’s your constitutional right

Your lips parted slightly.

You flipped to the next.

You again—head tipped back, laughing, eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t perfect, but she’d caught it. The feeling of it.

you laugh like you mean it, it’s my favorite sound in the entire world.

Something in your chest pulled tight.

Another page.

You standing at the sink, brushing your teeth, hair a mess, clearly mid-complaint about something.

you talk even when your mouth is full of toothpaste. it’s disgusting. don’t stop.

You let out a quiet, breathy laugh, already blinking a little harder.

“Keep going,” Ellie said softly, shifting her weight like she didn’t know where to put herself.

You did.

A sketch of your hand in hers.

the first time you held my hand, i pretended it didn’t make me nervous. it did.

A small, more detailed one—your face, softer this time. Calm. Looking at something off-page.

you look at things like they matter. it makes everything feel bigger. better.

By the time you reached the last page, your fingers had slowed.

This one was different.

It wasn’t just you.

It was both of you—sitting on the couch, drawn from across the room like she’d captured it from memory. You leaning into her. Her head tilted toward yours.

Messy lines. Imperfect proportions.

But it felt… real.

Underneath, written a little more carefully than the others:

i don’t know how to do things the right way

but i know how to love you

and i think i’m doing that okay

Your vision blurred before you could stop it.

You didn’t even realize you’d gone quiet until Ellie spoke again, voice smaller now. “You can say something, you know. Or not. Silence is—cool too. I can work with silence.”

You looked up.

She was standing there like she was trying to play it off, but her hands were fidgeting at her sides, fingers tapping against her jeans, like she was bracing for something to go wrong.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stepped forward—

and pulled her into you.

She made a small, surprised sound as she stumbled into your arms, then immediately wrapped hers around you, holding on tight.

“Whoa—okay,” she breathed, a little shaky. “That’s—good, right? I’m gonna assume that’s good—”

“Ellie,” you said, voice muffled against her shoulder, “this is… this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever made me.”

She went very still.

“…yeah?” she asked, softer now.

“Yeah.”

Your hands gripped the back of her flannel, like you needed to anchor yourself there. “You drew all of these?”

“I did,” she mumbles, a little embarrassed now. “Over time. Not like, all at once. I just—whenever you did something that made my brain go stupid, I’d draw it so I wouldn’t forget.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands sliding up to her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

“You don’t forget anything about me, do you?”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “No. It’s actually a problem.”

You smiled, eyes still soft. “It’s not.”

Something in her expression eased at that, like a knot loosening.

“…it’s definitely not,” she murmured.

You leaned in and kissed her for a second time—slow, warm, a little deeper this time.

She melted into it instantly, hands tightening at your waist, pulling you closer like she needed you there. Like she always did.

When you broke apart, her forehead rested against yours again, breath a little uneven.

“…so,” she said after a second, a faint grin creeping back in, “I think I nailed that.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. You really did.”

“Good,” she said, clearly relieved. Then quieter, more serious—“I meant it, by the way. What I wrote.”

“I know.”

“All of it.”

“I know, Ellie.”

She searched your face for a second, like she needed to be sure.

Then she smiled.

Not teasing. Not cocky.

Just soft.

Her hand slipped back into yours, fingers threading together easily now, like there was no hesitation left anywhere.

“Stay a little longer?” she asked.

You squeezed her hand, stepping closer again, letting your forehead rest against hers.

“Always.”

And this time, when the music carried on and the candles burned a little lower, you didn’t just stand ther

you stayed wrapped up in her, in the warmth, in the quiet kind of love she built piece by piece, messy and real and entirely hers.

she was sat next to me during class and I genuinely cannot tell you what the teacher was talking about gun to my head. like I was fully gone. empty head. no thoughts except oh my god oh my god oh my god.

I need to get a grip, but like, I don’t actually want to? I keep trying to get her attention in ways that don’t make me look insane. like y'know making jokes and stuff when she’s nearby or answering questions in class so maybe she’ll think I’m smart too bro idk.

except every single time she actually acknowledges me I panic and immediately become the dumbest person alive. today she asked me if I understood the homework and instead of saying just saying yes like a normal fucking person I went “uhhhhhh.”

literally that. “uhhhhhh.”

then I said some stupid shit about mitochondria before realizing we were in HISTORY. I need to be euthanized get me outta here.

she laughed though. not in a mean way. like genuinely laughed. And all that did was make me consider jestering as a possible future profession.

Wednesday

Okay so i'm actually hopeless. Like genuinely. She sat in front of me in english today and, I need everyone involved in my life to understand how serious this is. I could see the back of her neck cause her hair was tied up, and i spent literally half the class staring at it instead of paying attention. I think if anyone looked inside my brain they'd just find tv stactic and little hearts floating around. It's bad. I think I started drooling at some point.

She kept like- twirling those loose strands of her hair while she was writing and i couldn't. stop. looking. at her hands, fuuuuck. I tried going up to her after class, because i keep telling myself i need to act normal if i ever want her to think i’m worth talking to (and normal people approach others instead of romantically gazing at them from afar), but then she smiled at me and my brain immediately melted out my ears. i mumbled something about the homework and she started explaining part of it and i swear i retained none of it because i was too busy staring at her mouth like a fucking creep.

she probably thinks i’m dumb as hell. which sucks because i’m actually not dumb right. i just become clinically stupid around her specifically.

god she smells good too. I don't even think it's perfume or anything. just her. i got to sit next to her during the project meeting and every time she leaned closer i thought i was gonna pass out.

i’m so fucked.

Thursday

history project again today. i got there last because i spent like twenty minutes fixing my hair beforehand like a loser. she still looked prettier than me immediately without even trying. evil honestly. i CANT EVEN BE MAD UGGHH.

she sat beside me instead of across from me this time because the library was crowded and i genuinely could not focus for a solid ten minutes. her thigh kept brushing mine accidentally under the table and every single time i got all tingly… i think i'm a femcel. i honestly don’t even think she noticed. meanwhile i’m sitting there fighting for my life hello.

she laughs at all my stupid jokes too. that’s the worst part. why why why why what does it meaaan?? i’ll say the dumbest shit imaginable and she’ll look at me with this little smile like i’m actually funny. i think i’d do literally anything to keep hearing her laugh.

at one point she leaned over me to look at my laptop and her hair brushed my shoulder and i swear to god i almost whimpered out loud. which would’ve been a horrific thing to do in a public library so thank god i still have some self control left. barely.

also i caught myself looking at her legs like three separate times today. i need to be put down.

Saturday

saw her outside school today by accident and she waved at me first. FIRST.

i think i looked around to make sure she meant me which is embarrassing in retrospect but better safe than sorry. she walked over and started talking to me about the project and i tried so hard to keep eye contact like a normal person but she’s so pretty it actually hurts my soul. like physically. especially when her eyes light up while she’s talking. sighhhh.

she touched my arm for like one second when she laughed at something i said and i have genuinely not recovered. one second. that’s all it takes apparently. but i keep thinking about what she’d be like if she liked someone. like really liked someone. i wonder if she’d get shy about it or if she’d be sweet and obvious. i wonder if she’d hold their hand all the time. i wonder what her face would look like right before kissing somebody.

anyway. normal thoughts from me.

i’m trying really hard not to come off too desperate around her but i think the desperation is starting to leak out through the cracks, or maybe that's just sweat idk i'm definitely always sweating around her. she asked if i was okay because i got really quiet all of a sudden and i almost told her the truth which is “yeah i’m just trying not to think about climbing into your lap right now.”

instead i said i was tired.

close enough.

Monday

i actually think she might care about me a little and that’s somehow scarier than her ignoring me. we were working on the project again and i mentioned i hadn’t slept much because of studying and she got all concerned about it immediately. like soft voice and little frown and everything. she told me i should take better care of myself.

someone please tell her to stop, have some mercy on my poor lovesick lesbian soul.

the thing is she says my name a lot when we talk. like way more than most people do. am i tripping or is she doing that thing where you keep repeating someone's name casually in conversation to get them to like you??? I'm aware of how delusional i sound but idc i want her to want me.

also today she stretched while sitting next to me and her shirt lifted up just a little and i had to look down at my notes immediately, i could literally feel myself blushing too. pathetic. absolutely pathetic.

she kept nudging my foot under the table accidentally and apologizing every time and meanwhile i’m sitting there thinking please please never stop touching me actually. i know i need to get some action. from her. i want her, i want to be hers.

— e

Wednesday

i think i’m being hunted for sport by the universe because there’s no other explanation for the way she keeps accidentally doing the hottest things imaginable completely unprompted.

today during the project meeting she got frustrated with one of the articles we were reading and started ranting about how badly it was written and OH MY GOD. first of all she’s cute when she’s annoyed. terrible news for me personally. second of all she does this thing where she talks with her hands when she gets excited and i genuinely stopped processing english for a minute because i was too busy staring at her fingers (put them inside me. wait who said that). which sounds insane. because it is insane. i’ve reached levels of lesbianism previously thought impossible by modern science. nasa should study me.

also she stole my pencil without asking and kept chewing on the end of it while reading through her notes and i had to sit there acting normal about that somehow. impossible task. genuinely sisyphean. push the boulder up the hill every day only for the boulder to turn out to be thoughts about her mouth.

at one point she leaned over REALLY close to show me something on her laptop and i swear i could feel the heat coming off her skin. i almost short-circuited like a shitty little robot in a rainstorm. she smelled like coconut shampoo and caramel. i noticed immediately because apparently i’m a bloodhound now.

please i want her so bad it’s actually making me stupid.

Friday

she wore this tiny dinosaur pin on her backpack today. like a little triceratops. i almost proposed marriage on the spot. i asked her about it trying to seem casual and she got all excited telling me her favorite dinosaurs and i swear to god i could’ve listened to her talk forever. She's always so passionate when she talks and i just sit there nodding like an idiot.

she said parasaurolophus is underrated and honestly that might’ve been the sexiest thing anybody’s ever said to me. this is so embarrassing. if anybody ever read this diary i’d have to fake my own death immediately. maybe launch myself into space. which honestly wouldn’t be so bad if she came with me.

OH and she touched my shoulder today while laughing at one of my jokes and i literally forgot what i was saying mid-sentence. just fully blanked. blue screen of death. windows shutdown noise in my brain. i almost came fr.

i think she noticed too because she gave me this little look after, i swear i almost melted through the floor. there is absolutely no heterosexual explanation for the way i think about this girl. none. scientists would take one look at me and immediately diagnose me with advanced lesbianism. terminal condition. no cure.

Sunday

i had a dream about her last night and now i can’t look her in the eye what is my problem.

nothing even happened really, we were just laying next to each other looking at stars and she kept talking softly while i watched her face. dream-me apparently has more game than real-me because i actually touched her hand in it instead of acting like a startled raccoon every time she gets within three feet of me.

then today she sat next to me during the project thing and rested her chin in her hand while reading over my notes and i wanted to to reach over and tuck her hair away from her pretty face. i wanna braid it. i wanna braid her hair, is that weird? i wanna brush it and put bows in it and smell it n' stuff… hehe anyway.

she kept stealing glances at me too. or maybe i’m hallucinating because i want her attention so badly my brain is making things up now. both are equally possible. also i noticed she has this tiny mole near her jaw today and now unfortunately i’m going to think about it until the heat death of the universe.

i’m so beyond fucked. like astronomically fucked. black-hole-level gravitational pull fucked. there is no one else on the planet that i will ever feel this connected to again i swear. and she’s NICE to me. like genuinely nice, my sweet perfect angel.

she asked if i’d eaten yet today because i mentioned being hungry and i almost had to excuse myself to go scream into the parking lot.

i need her biblically.

— e