besides, upon some self-reflection, she’s realized that figuring it out on your own isn’t exactly a fair thing to expect of you. especially considering that everytime she had shared something with you these past few months, there was always a tug of resistance she gave into, which would pull her back from divulging anything too revealing. which probably made it impossible for you to truly piece together any of this on your own.

and so, it seemed that details, and the act of unveiling them, were necessary steps lee had to take all on her own in order for you to truly understand this part of her. but, to play such an active role like that felt overbearing, even if it were for her own secrets.

but, ever since you had cried, and spoken of your hurt while lee had knelt by your bed, feeling like she was doing confession, she was gnawed with the knowledge of how little you really know. before, she had been content with ignoring the fact that her opening up was rare and far in between. but, hearing the hitches in your breath, seeing the way you crumbled – it forced to the forefront of her mind that she had known you for nearly a year, and you knew barely anything about her past. at least, when it came to the things that really mattered. and usually, that kind of stuff didn’t bother lee. there had been several people in her life who she knew longterm and still shared virtually nothing with. but, with you, it feels wrong. not because you two are partners, but because the only reason you two had reached this point was because of trust and sharing. and lee didn’t want to break that. she couldn’t. not after the removal of sharing had damaged one bond in her life already.

a bond that she tentatively brings up on a thursday afternoon. it feels like winter again, the stormy clouds of late july shadowing her bedroom with a grey light. but, your skin, brushing against hers, is warm, and she uses that to anchor herself when she says, “I’m ready to talk to you. about it all.”

lee has never been one for words – of that, she is certain. she spent the first decade of her life often lapsing into days or weeks of silence, and even as an adult, she finds herself preferring to avoid conversation as best as she can. lest for a few exceptions. 

it makes it particularly difficult in moments like these. where her words carry a weight she can’t ignore, where they possess the sole responsibility to speak on something important. it provides her with a newfound pressure that’s a bit heavier than the already tense relationship she has with speaking. her words are all she has now, really. she knows her words will never fully convey what she’s felt all these years. but, at least it’s a good step.

“like you know, it’s always just been my mom and I. she was, um… cut off. when I was born. because she had me out of wedlock.” her stomach churns in guilt at exposing her mom’s secret like this. she’s just as private as lee is, if not even moreso. 

“because of that, she became more religious, more worried over the idea of sinning. her family reached out years later, but she refused to see them and let them visit. because she had become less trusting. towards the world, everyone. she preferred it’d be just her and I. I think she was scared someone would hurt us again.” growing up, it was easy to take notice of how alone her mother was. barely any friends, no dates, no social outings. usually, the reasons lee had to be babysat were purely aligned to her mom’s working hours, rather than anything social or purely enjoyable. lee and work were really the only things her mom seemed to center her life on. as a kid, lee leaned into the attention and affection, her mom her only friend. but, the older she got, the more stifling it was to be the person whose existence her mother’s life revolved around. now that she’s moved away, that feeling has simmered, but as lee recounts these things to you, she can’t help but feel a sudden tightening of guilt in her stomach. there was so much her mom sacrificed for her, so much she had lost and kept pushed away. both for the sake of protecting the two of them and because it seemed like nothing else truly mattered all that much to her. it’s almost like she had been content to forgo her identity if it meant being a mother.

but, the older she got, the more aware lee became about the lack. she never got to be familiar with the feeling of several relatives in a warm home. she never had anyone to run to when she fought with her mom. there was never anyone there to reveal more about her mom. anything ruth harker decided to hide remained hidden, for she was all lee could depend on to know her own mother. 

keeping her eyes pinned to the floor, she means to continue. but, her chest suddenly feels gripped with an invisible hand, the pressure surging in making her swallow a heavy breath, fingers tightening against her knees. her lips part and she shuts her eyes, trying to inhale and release steadying breaths to release the tension eating away at her.

in an instant, your hand, warm and grounding, is on her lower back, rubbing easy circles. “take your time.”

she sucks in a sharp breath, then forces the words out in a quiet slew. she just wants it over, to be done with and spat out. “when I was nine, something happened. I don’t know what, I…” she closes her eyes, frustration running through her body. she’s always hated unsolved mysteries, to not know the answer to something, for the questions to be too far from her grasp to truly conclude. but, of all the unknowns in the world, this is the one that haunts her the most. “all I know is that a car came to our house. and people had come before, yes, people who knew it was just us. but, this was the first time something…” she pauses to clear her throat, feeling it tighten as the dread of the memory curls and twists in her relentlessly. “something actually happened. I don’t know what, she’s never told me. and the entire night is hard for me to remember. but, it was bad enough that she called the police.” her lips purse tightly together, and her nails dig harder into her skin. it helps in a way, drawing her back to the present and out of the endless loop she’s spent too many years in, trying again and again to reach out for what happened that night. if she heard or saw anything.

“after that, my mom was different. she became less direct. more like… I don’t know. a shadow.” her voice cracks on the last word and she winces. “she became more lost, and it got worse the older I got. and she started hoarding.” she shifts, a feeling of disgust churning in her stomach at remembering the filth of her mother’s home when she had last visited. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault. she knows that better than anyone. but, she can’t help it. she hates what their home has become, she can barely look at it without feeling dread creep into her. 

she can’t bear to look at you. it’s odd, because it’s out of her control, what’s happened to her home. but, it’s almost like she’s so tethered to her mom, and the space they raised each other in, that she can’t help but feel partially responsible. especially considering the fact that maybe if things had been different. maybe if she had heard something sooner, or had been more aware of her surroundings, what happened on january thirteenth wouldn’t have happened. maybe she could’ve saved her mother, her family, her home. broken as it was already, at least it wasn’t destitute before that day. 

“she became more paranoid, too. she already didn’t really trust anyone, but what happened made it worse. she clung onto me. a lot. maybe she was scared something would happen again.” she pauses to gulp, the possibility hanging off her tongue filling her mind with a dark cloud, expanding and filling her mind with a dizzying panic. “the older I got, and the more I wanted to have some space, the worse she got. more hoarding, more worrying, more paranoia.” a pierce of guilt stabs through her, and she rushes to add, “I know it’s not her fault. but, between the hoarding, her worries and control, the religious stuff, it became too much. as soon as I graduated, I left." she can't even say with total certainty that her mom's faith is fully in tact anymore, a topic she often wonders about. if her mom, after all the things she's been through, truly rests her hope in god, or just stays with him out of comfort or fear for what will happen if she don't.

she sighs. she finished faster than she thought. but, it hasn’t eased the shame spreading through lee, aching and curling in all the wrong spots. she feels despicable, admitting to having left her mom after all that happened. and she is, isn’t she? she doesn’t even know what her mom went through, the horrors she dealt with that night. and still, she left her. still, she moved to an entirely different state even though she knew her mother would refuse to ever leave. because she was so selfish as to want to escape just for herself. even if it meant her mom was going to be left back, all alone, with no one to protect her anymore. and maybe it was wrong of her to seek protection in lee, she doesn’t know. but, still, lee was a daughter before she was anything else in the world. that meant something to her, meant something to the woman who raised her. she could’ve at least returned the protection her mother had bestowed upon her for years. and she did – she tried, all throughout her teenage years, to do so. working more shifts than any of her peers so that her mom wouldn’t have to undergo the struggle of heading to work. being the one to take care of her mother’s eating and sleeping habits. letting her mom hold her at night even when all she wanted was to be alone. she had tried.

but, what does it matter if she ran away, anyways? and if she’s most likely going to continue to stay away. it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now physically abandoning her mother. and sure, maybe her mom is the one who left first, in more ways than one. but, lee should’ve stayed to anchor her. she should have.

she’s tense, her body stiff, bracing itself for your contempt, your disapproval.

“why does she hoard?”

lee flinches at the sound of your voice. once the question gets absorbed in her mind, she clears her throat, trying to remain levelled. “I don’t know. my guesses are to get back to how things were before what happened, or to maybe have a feeling of control.” she knows her mother wouldn’t like being pitied, but she can’t help the feeling from worming its way through her, throbbing and potent. “she won’t tell me. she doesn’t tell me anything, really. about what happened that night, how it affected her.” her teeth clench so hard that a blast of pain stabs through her jaw. “I… I hate that she doesn’t. I think she wants to protect me, but… it’s just made things worse.”

the avoidance, the secrecy – it’s the reason why this wedge between them exists. yeah, other stuff, like her paranoia and the religion carved the path and buried the first bouts of guilt and shame, but ultimately, it was the lack of understanding that set it all into stone. lee never got to find out what happened, and so, she never knew what her mom needed or how to help her. and so, she was forced to reckon with the changes of her mother, with neither of them prepared or in grasp of the knowledge needed to understand them. 

lee flinches when she feels you kiss her shoulder, and she hates herself for it, but she shifts away from you. “I don’t… I can’t.” she feels the same way as she did in the subway with you, stifled and mind faltering from all she’s saying. and you touching her is only making her feel more overwhelmed. her mind feels like it’s on overrun, crumbling under the racing thoughts. 

“okay, okay.” 

she keeps her distance on the bed, nails digging in so hard her thighs are starting to ache. anything to distract herself.

“lee, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you and your mom. it’s terrible that she went through that, and that it caused so much damage. lee, I…” you pause to suck in a sharp breath, and lee wishes she could read your mind to know if this has burdened you at all. “I’m so sorry.”

your tone is soft, and lee can imagine how you look right now – concerned, worried. it just adds to her discomfort. it makes her feel pitied, and right now, she isn’t the one who deserves that. her mother does. and you sympathizing with her just drags to her conscience that this situation is one worth sympathizing with. which, logically, she knows it is. she would also feel concerned if someone she cared for told such a story. but, to face another person’s sympathy head on, to deal with it outside of the rationality of just identifying it as a concerning, to have another person’s worried reaction be thrusted at her like this – it makes her stomach churn. she’d rather forget it all. but, hearing your gentle words, feeling your light touch, it just reminds her of how bad it all is. and that’s something she usually tries to ignore, for she can barely handle acknowledging it. both in general, and how bad it is for herself specifically. she doesn’t like thinking of herself as a victim of something, but when you talk to her like that, she feels that way – like something terrible happened to her. and that makes it harder to ignore the weight of it all.

“I…” she chokes on the word, tears beginning to spill out. fuck, this is the last thing she wanted. she lifts her hands to her face, covering her wet cheeks. she wishes the ground could just swallow her whole. the last thing she wanted was to deliver this in any way that wasn’t fast, to-the-point and quickly done with. she feels like a child again. just as lost, just as unsteady in grasping her emotions or stopping them from overflowing. 

“you what?” and now, your voice is shaky too. but, lee can’t focus on that now. she can’t focus on anything. 

“I wish things were different. I wish my mom and I were different.” her words tremble as she speaks, littered with small, weak sobs she can’t hold in. they sound so squeaky, so meek. lee didn’t want it to happen this way, she wanted to be in control during this.

but, she can’t stop crying. her palms are moist with the tears, her mouth salty and wet. her and her mom will never get better. and that’s what hurts the most. that no matter how many christmas trees lee puts up with her, no matter how often she calls, no matter how many times lee plays pretend, there’ll always exist this strain now. it’s binding, and it’ll always be like this. forever shifted from what they once had. 

she wipes her wrist at her nose, sloppy and dripping into her mouth. she hates being in this state. it’s been hard enough crying in front of you the first two times, but this feels less quiet, less calm – the bubbling hiccups, the shaking of her body, the way her nose can’t stop running. it feels so much more messy, completely and utterly ripped out of her control and stabilization. she doesn’t like this feeling, doesn’t want to feel out of control. but, this no longer feels like a mere sting of hurt or sadness. this is a tight, choking sort of regret and devastation surging through her body. maybe this is why people say to not repress things. lee did, and now that it’s unravelled within her, she feels as though she’ll never be the same again with how much it’s eating at her from the inside out, ripping every bit of flesh and bone of her until she’s a crumbled mess.

if the suppression didn’t work in her favour, maybe the intentional isolating wouldn’t either. at least not this time, when things had reached this level.

just to at least try, lee mutters, her breaths squeezing and high, “please… I need…” she can’t even finish, just leaning in your direction. 

you clutch onto her immediately, almost as though you needed this as badly as her – though, lee can’t guess if that’s true for the life of her. she’s been so caught up in her own thoughts she nearly forgot she wasn’t alone. she’s not sure if that’s selfish. but, maybe just tonight, she can let herself be a little selfish. she doesn’t think you’ll mind. 

you two say nothing else for the remainder of the evening, remaining in that position until lee falls asleep, body sagged and depleted, with her face pressed into the safety of your neck. 

maybe this is why her mom always held her. it’s a bit easier to pretend things are okay when all you can feel is the weight of someone else against you.

–

when you wake up alone in lee’s bed, you’re immediately shooting up, concern twisting in your stomach. you turn her alarm clock to you. it’s 6:33AM. she’s probably on one of her runs. that makes you feel a bit more relieved, though the knot in your stomach remains wrapped tightly. why would she go on a run after all that happened last night? couldn’t she ever give herself a break?

you flop back onto her bed, massaging your temple. lee had meekly asked you to spend the night, requesting that you two just lie in silence. in that moment, you would’ve quieted the entire world for her. 

after she had fallen asleep, her face so soft and tear-streaked, you had wept quietly next to her, body aching with all she had told you. you still feel it, really. you had always known lee went through something, but never would’ve guessed this of all things. you went in knowing this much – lee has a controlling mom who is religious and not doing well, lee hates going back home, lee’s mom was cut off. all those things had been delivered by lee rather straightforwardly, so you knew whatever she had to be keeping from you regarding her mother was something a bit different from those things, a bit harder to swallow. part of you had been anticipating that the secret in question would encapsulate the usual trajectory most people faced – a relationship that was strained due to differences that revealed themselves in adulthood, and the harsh fights ignited by that, the wounds that still can’t be healed. but, a night with the police called, a mother becoming a stranger, lee having to take care of that mother for years. you hadn’t expected those things. and it had shaken you more than you expected.

you had never seen her so utterly despaired, so entirely hopeless and devastated. the way her body moved as she sobbed looked so unnatural to lee – lee, who is always so poised and stiff and straight. lee, your girlfriend who is always steady and prepared for anything, looked like her entire world was shattered last night. it made you feel so stupid, so confused, because you didn’t know how to handle a version of lee this distraught, this twisted and wracked by her emotions. 

how she kept her shit together for this long, you don’t even know. a night she can’t remember the contents of, a mother who may have been harmed in ways she isn’t even certain of, a relationship that became filled with estrangement and unexplainable behaviours. it’s something almost out of fiction. most people you know are aware of exactly why and how their family’s dynamics are fucked up. but, lee doesn’t even know what the fuck happened to her family. she’s been dragged and entrapped in a black hole of lost memories and secrets for over a decade now. you couldn’t handle such a thing. it’d haunt you every fucking day.

and maybe it does with lee.

you shakily tuck the blanket up to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. you need to keep your shit together. you can’t let her trauma fuck you up so much that she spends the morning comforting you when she’s the one who needs it. especially after she’s spent enough years taking care of someone else.

but, that someone else is her mother. of course lee took care of her. 

precious lee, everlastingly good lee. 

and speaking of her mother, the revelation of what’s happened has left you with just as many questions as lee. how does her mother act now? what does the haze lee spoke of entail? how often does she seem grounded and real, and how often is she a half-present stranger to lee? the questions do nothing to quell your sense of unease and shock at all that lee has told you. you’ve never met someone whose parent became a shell of themself, whose ongoings of their own home are so unknown they don’t even know what aroused such a change. the gaps and holes of the situation gnaw at you, with each question bringing a wave of secondhand anxiety, discomfort and curiosity. it makes your stomach turn – what happened to lee’s mom to cause all of this?

the possibilities make you nauseated with the range of brutality your mind skims along. and you’re just a stranger to lee’s mom. how must lee feel?

when the front door creaks open a half hour lately, you yank the blanket off, rushing to meet lee in the kitchen.

she’s in a t-shirt and jogging pants, panting lightly. when she spots you, she quietly takes off her headphones and sets her walkman on the counter. “hey.” 

“hi.” you want to hold her so bad, protect her from everything bad in the world. but, you know better. lee doesn’t need protection, she’s more than capable. but, still, if there was a way to guarantee she never had to feel another ounce of pain, you’d gladly make any sacrifice necessary for it.

you resist touching her, the memory of how she recoiled last night still fresh. it had stung, but you reminded yourself it was only a testimony to the great pain she was in. it wasn’t fair to dictate her lack of desire for touch as being anything but. 

but, not touching means you two stand there awkwardly for a few moments, simply staring.

lee breaks it first, eyes darting to the ground and remaining there. “I just needed to clear my head. sorry I didn’t wake you before leaving.”

“no, no, it’s okay!” you rush to reassure, wincing at how your voice flicks to a higher pitch. “seriously, it’s okay, I know you probably needed that.”

“you don’t need to make leniencies for me just because of last night. it’s okay if you’re upset.”

you frown. “I’m not, lee. I’m not excusing it just because of last night, I understand it because of last night. that’s not cutting you slack, it’s just acknowledging you went through something hard.”

her jaw clenches. “but, I don’t want things to be different now.”

“they’re not,” you say with a shake of your hand. it feels like a lie, considering this morning definitely feels different to any other you two have shared – more tender, more sensitive to how you react or behave. but, you don’t expect it’ll remain like this forever, nor that any permanent, strong changes will happen. so, things really won’t be different. . and even if you do make a few adjustments to try to avoid reminding her of her trauma, it’s not such a big difference, is it? it’s understandable, you don’t want to yank her back into such a dark place. “I just mean that, you know, you had a rough night, and because of that, things may not go as smoothly this morning as they usually do. but, I get it, you’re drained and it’s understandable it’d cause, you know, some changes to our routine today.”

lee breathes in a deep breath, her fingers rolled into tight fists. “I don’t want you to expect changes, though. I don’t want you to just let things slide because you pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, lee.” your voice nearly cracks, beginning to weaken under the lack of sleep and the sense of helplessness beginning to creep in you. “I just feel for you, and I’m sorry for all that happened. and I know bringing it all up last night must’ve been a lot, so I know things may be a bit different today because of how draining it was, and–”

“you don’t need to do all that.” her voice is firm, and still, she doesn’t look at you.

a sharp scoff flies from your lips. you regret it immediately, knowing she doesn’t deserve your anger right now. but, before this gets worse, you say, “fine, okay,” then turn, heading into the bathroom. 

when you’re brushing your teeth, on the brink of tears, a knock comes to the door. 

“it’s occupied,” you say, words muffled from the froth in your mouth. for once, you don’t want to talk to her. 

lee sighs on the other end. “I know. can I come in?”

“later, lee.”

“okay.” the word sounds forced, hardened by an intentional push. you can tell she wants to stay.

after spending twenty minutes sitting on the toilet, trying to gather up and straighten your emotions into something more orderly than an overtired, blubbering mess, you head into the living room.

lee is standing by the tree, carefully re-arranging one of the ornaments. when it drops to the table’s surface, she bites her lip, tenderly cradling it up and hooking it back on. the sight only makes you feel even more sensitive to tears.

you warily call out, “hey.” 

lee’s head whips to you, and immediately, she paces over. when she reaches you, her arms lift before quickly flinching back into their resting position at her sides. you gulp hard at the motion – to see her being the one hesitating to touch feels wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fingers stretching at her thighs. “that wasn’t right.”

“no, it wasn’t.”

the corner of her lip twitches and she nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I just…” you gulp, feeling your eyes beginning to burn. since morning time, your emotions have already felt extra sensitive and prickly from lack of sleep and the weight of last night’s conversation. and that makes it all too easy for lee’s earlier words to have pierced through you, leaving a burn of hurt. maybe you had no right to have required anything of her this morning – comfort, softness, talking. after all, it’s her who had shared something of note last night, not you. but, you had at least hoped that she’d let you in this morning, and allow you to support her and give her some love. “that hurt.” your voice falters, and you draw in a shaky breath to level it. “I just wanted to be there for you, lee. and help you, and make you feel better after last night. but, you made it sound like it’s terrible to do that.”

“it’s not,” she softly interjects, shaking her head. “it’s not. I just – I got scared that what happened last night, and what I told you, would make things different. and that you’d change how you treat me because of it. the idea of favours, it makes me uncomfortable.”

you nearly cringe at the words. the knowledge that your care made her feel uncomfortable is borderline humiliating. “uncomfortable because how I was treating you was, I don’t know, too much?”

“no.” she swallows, her throat bobbing. “it just made me feel like you now see me as, I don’t know, different, or pitiful.”

“but, I’ve given you this kind of treatment before. you know, like, trying to understand things may be different the day after something intense.”

“I know. but, with this situation, I…” her voice lowers, eyebrows scrunching in what feels awfully close to shame. “I already feel weak regarding it. not remembering anything, not being able to figure it out. and I just, I don’t want you to see me like how I see myself.” her mouth twists in something sorrowful, her eyes lowering. 

“but, I don’t, though.” your voice breaks, and you immediately clamp your mouth shut. you don’t want to make this about yourself or your hurt. 

but, lee catches it immediately, her eyes widening and raising to you. her mouth flutters open and shut, and she takes a tentative step forward, fingertips ghosting along your wrist. “I know.”

“I see you as strong, honestly. you’ve been dealing with so much, and you hold yourself together despite it all.”

“I don’t hold it together well. I–”

“lee, look at yourself!” you nearly cry out, the power of the shock at what she had been through pushing you forward to try to shake her into realizing what’s crystal clear to you. “you built an entire life, independently, for yourself. despite having an entire night you don’t remember, one that made things so different for you and your mom. and despite all that happened, you still care for her, without falter or hesitation. you’re a great person, a great daughter, despite it all.”

her fingers wrap firmly around your wrist. “I don’t – you don’t need to tell me all of this.”

“I don’t need to do anything, you’re right. I want to, though, because it’s the truth.”

she shakes her head slowly. “I’m just doing what I need to do.”

you draw your hand from her grip, cupping her face, pressing in close. “you’re doing things that take a lot of strength, and a lot of consideration for your mom.” you lean your head against hers. “don’t diminish it.”

“I’m not,” she weakly protests, her voice low. “it’s just not a big deal.”

“it is, lee.”

she shakily sighs, as though she can’t handle the amount of praise you’re laying onto her. “I just – I only wanted to apologize, okay? for me, at least in this situation, I usually avoid talking about it and want things to immediately go back to exactly how they were before. but, I can’t ask that of you. for you, it’ll be different. I know that.”

her understanding words have your shoulders easing in relief, for to think of moving on without acknowledging all that occurred last night feels impossible. “yeah, it’s just – it was a lot. not in a bad way, of course,” you speedily add, eyes widening to search hers for any sign of hurt that could’ve resulted from your words. “I just mean, I think I would’ve struggled to have just let it go this morning.”

“and I shouldn’t have expected you to.”

you hum quietly. “thanks.” when she says nothing, dark orbs resting on you, carefully studying, you gulp, something else still gnawing at your mind. “lee?”

“hm?” 

you start with, “nothing between us will change. and I don’t see you as pitiful, okay?”

she eyes you with furrowed eyebrows, her stare wary. “okay.” 

“but, you know, you’re allowed to feel bad for yourself, babe. sympathetic with yourself, your past self, and all they’ve both been through. it’s okay for other people to feel bad for you, too. and for them to comfort you. it doesn’t mean they think you’re pitiful. it just means they care about and love you and are just sad you dealt with something so hard.”

her lips pinch together, chest heaving with a heavy breath. “I know, but people feeling bad for me, or comforting me – it makes me feel small, especially considering how… I can barely manage the situation as is.” she rubs a hand on her face, and your chest snaps at the sight of her clear distress. lee in general doesn’t like unanswered questions – even with movies, whenever you guys saw one with an ambiguous ending, she would spend hours afterwards cracking the code of it. if something as inconsequential as that can gnaw at her mind, what would it feel like for her to face a mystery embedded within her own life, centering on someone she loves? probably terrifying, you suspect. “and I just don’t like to think about what happened with my mom. but, being comforted pushes me to think about it and everything that happened. that’s why I’d rather things go back to normal after I talk about it. not only because the alternative makes me feel pitied. but, because it also forces me to think about what happened.”

“but, does not thinking about it really help at all?”

“I…” she pauses, the firmness of her jaw seeming to deflate as she quietly ponders on your question. “I don’t know. I used to think about it more, but now, I just avoid it. it won’t go anywhere and it’s too much.”

at the vulnerable opening, you tread across the threshold carefully, not wanting to push her too fast. “but, is not acknowledging it, and how it’s affected you, really helping?”

“I–I don’t know.”

she looks so fragile, her face tense and avoidant, ducked down and shying away from your gaze. you can tell the possibility of thinking on it more, lingering on the horrors of it, is overwhelming for her, so you try to quiet your tone. “I – just think on it, okay? I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

her throat rolls under the skin as she gulps. “okay.” 

“I–” god, you want to say it so fucking bad. but, not now. not like this, when she’s clearly already stressed.

“you what?”

“I’m here for you, okay?” you hesitate, then move forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t pity you, or see you as weak. but, I feel bad for what happened, lee, because it is hard what you guys went through. and I know me feeling bad for you makes you feel like I’m pitying you, or seeing you differently. but, I don’t. I’m just sad you went through this. and I just want to support you.” another kiss. “if you’ll let me, I just want to care for you.”

a small noise comes from the back of lee’s throat. you can’t see her, your cheek pressed to hers, so you wait patiently to hear her answer. 

when she sags against you, arms tightly clutching on, you have it.

–

lee jerks in surprise when two arms wrap around her from behind. her head flies back, body relaxing a bit when she sees your crinkled, happy eyes, mouth twisted in amusement. 

“‘hi’ works, too,” she mutters, very much not pulling away. her body is still tense, but after hours apart, she craves this.

“yes, but where’s the element of surprise in that?”

“not every greeting requires that, you know,” she deadpans, a twinge of disappointment flicking in her when you let go, standing by her side.

“well, I’m just happy to see you,” you whine, bottom lip jutting out. “but, I guess if that’s how you feel…” you turn away, releasing an exaggerated, whooshing breath.

lee’s mouth tingles as she bites back a smile. she wryly glances at you, hoping you’re not actually hurt beneath all the jokes. after a moment of scanning you, she shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you so that your hip is flushed to hers. 

“oh, so, now you want to hold me.”

she snorts. “I always do.”

“sure,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. 

“I do. do I need to prove that to you?”

“here?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. “didn’t know public play was your thing, harker.”

when lee spots a couple flashing you two alarmed looks, she internally winces. “baby, we’re in public.”

“yeah, I know, that’s what public play is, loser.”

she tightens her grip on your hip, leaning into your ear to murmur, “no, I mean we’re in public, so please, stop talking about the… public play.”

you bite your lip, following her nervous glances to the couple near you two. “did they hear us?”

“yes, they did.”

“oh.” you laugh, nuzzling your face against her shoulder. “my bad.”

she sighs, eyes darting to the nearby couple again. “just order, then let’s go.”

you slip from her grasp, peering into the plane of glass, eagerly taking in the colourful stamps on the other side. “what flavour will you get?”

she hums thoughtfully, looking at all the special flavours set for summer. while they look nice, she isn’t really up for trying anything new. “just vanilla.”

you cock your head at her with what can only be described as a pleading look. “c’mon, be more adventurous than that.”

her eyes carefully rove along the small, yellow shop, ensuring no one is in earshot before muttering against your ear, “this is the last vanilla thing I have since dating you, so let me keep it.”

you nod along to her words, and after a few moments, you start, your head whipping to her. “wait, what the fuck?” your face crumbles into a loud round of laughter, and a warm sense of pride flitters through her stomach. “wow, you’re funny!”

lee rolls her eyes, sniggering. “don’t sound so surprised.” despite her outward indifference, the compliments do stroke her ego a bit. she’s never seen herself as being funny, or charming, and she’s certain no one else has either. but, you have a way of so easily flashing her smiles and tossing her compliments that she can’t help but feel that at least you see her in that way. and though she’d never admit it, she’s glad to know you do.

after the ice cream is secured, you two sit on the park bench, one of your legs laying languidly upon hers. lee likes it, this easy intimacy, and she lets her fingers rub along your shin as she takes observations. there’s a woman playing frisbee with her dog, a group of students sitting on a picnic blanket, some children playing, well, a frankly poor attempt of baseball (and lee isn’t even a fan of baseball), and several other such groupings. lee wonders what any of them would think upon seeing you or her. would they see two friends, or a couple?

as lee hears the slippery noises of you happily eating your ice cream, she can’t help but feel she’d like them to think the second. you’re hers, and ever since your discussion at the pride march, she’s wanted to try to be more intentional. 

she lowers her head, kissing your knee softly. when she raises up to continue eating her ice cream, the side of her head practically burns from your unfaltering gaze.

glancing at you tentatively, she asks, “what?”

“what was the kiss for?”

she shrugs, brushing her thumb over the spot, still slick from her saliva. “no reason.”

“mm, no reason my ass.”

 she continues eating her ice cream, her body afloat in what’s finally a sense of peace. she’s been waiting for it, hoping for it. ever since she confided in you about her childhood, she can tell that you’ve grown a bit more hesitant, or at least delicate, with her. you’ve been lavishing touches on her more frequently, leaving the room when she talks to her mom, or on some occasions, staying and then hugging her silently right after. you now pause for longer beats before asking her about her childhood. she knows you’re not doing it to make her feel uncomfortable – if anything, it’s just evidence of how jilted you were from the recollection she delivered to you. and she can’t blame you for that – she lived through it, and even she can barely stomach it on most days. and knowing you, you’re probably just trying to avoid tipping her into another breakdown. which she’d like to avoid too, but not because of an evident barrier within every moment that vaguely connects to her mother or childhood.

she spoke to you about it two days ago, focused on softening her tone, a practice she rarely ever engaged in. but, after what happened last time, she wanted to be careful. at the end of it, you promised to try to not be so awkward about things. lee hadn’t told you then, but part of her also wanted the hesitancy to diminish because she thought about what you said to her last week. a lot. and she decided that she does want to try thinking about the past, talking about it, letting herself feel for it, just as you said. you were right. the silence with her mom is what shattered what they had – what if her own silence on this matter one day breaks her too?

at least now, things seem more normal. she feels less frightened about any sort of permanent change, for your questions are now laced with less pauses and wary gazes. you still seem a bit more tender than usual, but lee’s accepted that maybe that’s just a natural part of confiding in someone who feels this way about her. maybe part of acknowledging how… hard the situation was (she still winces to think of it that way) is allowing you to give her proportionate care for it. at least, well, what feels “proportionate” for you. she still struggles to think of herself as needing that much.

she watches you as you smile up at the tree shadowing you two, which is lime under the golden sunlight peeking through. “do you… do you like this area?”

the location of your university has left you no choice but to live in this kind of area, and lee itches to know what you would choose if it were up to you. both out of curiosity’s sake, and to, secretly, use your answer to adjust her envisionment of the future.

“I do.” you release a sigh, eyes scanning your surroundings. “it has nice parks, the subway makes it easy to reach deeper parts of this city, but, our place’s neighbourhood is still quiet enough to be more… serene.”

she hums, nodding. she had presumed as much, based on the way your eyes lingered on the flowers filling the lawns of neighbourhood homes, and how you sometimes stuck your head out the window of her room to look at the kids playing on the streets. 

you love her window. it makes her a bit regrettable – she hadn’t cared much about the window apart from it making her bedroom feel a bit less closed in and a bit more breathable. but, apart from that, she had only chosen that room for herself because it was the smaller one and would force her to set a desk out in the open. which she didn’t like, but she had done it so things could at least be a bit easier for you. she didn’t want to be a selfish roommate.

“you?” 

the answer is immediate, months of reflection bringing her right to it. “I could live somewhere more isolated.”

“oh?” 

she eyes you hesitantly, hoping her answer doesn’t dissuade you in any kind of form. “like, a cottage. in a forest.”

your eyes bulge out. “damn, that sounds… isolated, indeed.”

she fidgets, feeling slightly self-conscious. “in a bad way?”

“no, no, I mean, it makes sense, considering you like your solitude. but, you’d be comfortable being that isolated?”

I wouldn’t be alone. her mouth twists at the thought, stomach tightening over the fact that your phrasing makes it sound like you expect her to be there alone. do you not envision a future with her? she tries to shake off the thought, focusing on what you asked. 

but, the truth is, yes, she would be that comfortable. more than. “probably. I don’t mind being physically alone. it makes me feel at ease.”

“but, you wouldn’t be nervous? scared?” 

“by the time I could afford anything like that, I will have completed my training.” she shrugs, stroking your knee. “so, I could defend myself.”

“plus, you’d…” when you pause, lee’s hand stills, awaiting your next words. “you’d, I don’t know, maybe have me?”

lee nearly exhales a deep breath of relief, just barely refraining. it’s been prickling at her mind – the possibility that you may not want to share a home with her. it’s a foreign thing for her to worry over, and ironic, in all honesty. she’s spent most of her life anticipating the day she gets to be alone, on her own, with no one but herself to account for. and now, right when she’s on the precipice of having that, she finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay here with you. maybe it had always been less about wanting to be by herself, but wanting to be somewhere where she’s understood, and having felt convinced for most of her life that she was the only one who could give herself that fully. 

“yeah,” she mumbles, unable to resist the small smile that tilts her lips up. something had been gnawing at her mind for two days now, but the topic of conversation, as well as your confession, pushes her on now to voice it. “listen… the landlord told me two days ago we have three weeks to decide if we want to up the lease. I want to. but, if you don’t, you can tell me. it’s okay.” direct, straight-to-the-point, and done with.

when you say nothing, lee forces her eyes to you. your lips are parted, and you resemble an owl with how you stare at her.

“what?” she quietly prods.

“well, I just– you don’t want to leave here after grad? maybe explore somewhere else.”

lee blinks at you. she had never been one particularly excited at the idea of exploring new places, often too comfortable in her surroundings to stray. and graduation, finding a job, having a partner – those are enough changes as is. she hadn’t been eager to seek out more. “no, not really. I’m not in a rush to leave. I wouldn’t mind staying till I need to go to virginia.” she shifts slightly, suddenly wishing you two had discussed this before now. “I– do you want to stay?”

“I do.”

“do you want to stay with me?” it’s the question that really matters.

your face becomes a beam of light when you smile, and lee turns away, her breath hitching when you say, “do you even need to ask?”

lee breathes in a shuddering breath, taken aback by just how… happy your words make her. she wasn’t even half-ready to let go of this yet – the home you two have built the past year. it’s been an entire year, but she feels like she’s only had the briefest taste of it. she’d like to indulge in at least a bit more before whatever comes next – whether it be the two of you moving somewhere else together, moving to virginia together or even being apart during her time at the academy. it’d be hard, sure, but she knows the two of you can handle it.

when the feeling of overwhelming lightness settles down, she releases a puff of air. “well, of course, I need to. can’t up it without asking you.”

“yeah, you’d be a tad creepy for doing that, huh?”

she snickers. “just a tad.”

when the two of you wander through the farmer’s market taking place on the outskirts of the park, you loop your arm through hers. she tenses automatically from the public display of affection before easing up. even though she wants to be more open, she still can’t help but immediately tighten in tension when you do these things. she supposes it’s just a matter of adjusting.

“so, three days.” you pout, leaning on her shoulder.

lee gives you a small nod. three days until she goes back home. it’s not an entirely welcome thought, considering how uncomfortable it makes her to think of how long the two of you will be apart. but, part of her has been wanting to see her mom since she confided in you. something about speaking so unabashedly of their bond, and all her mom did for her, has her longing to see her again. though, she’s certain that in a week, she’ll be desperate to leave the house, for upon each visit, the hoarding gets more stifling, more treacherous.

“are you… nervous?”

she shrugs. “a bit. just about how much worse things have gotten regarding her behaviour, the house…” it’s an anxiety she’s grown accustomed to, one that visits and makes a home in her body, feet tossed up and all, everytime she’s anticipating a visit to her mom’s. “I can manage.”

you hum in thought and plant a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I just – I wish I knew how to grapple with the kind of things she says. I usually just stay quiet.”

after pausing for a moment, nothing surrounding you two but the soft cacophony of the crowd’s conversations and purchases, you quietly say, “maybe all you can do is tell her that when she’s ready, she can talk to you, or, you know, use your help to get help. but, other than that, just try to be there.”

“I’ve always been there.” sometimes, lee hates that she’s been. since childhood, her mother forced her into a box, with just them, content to keep herself and lee hidden from the rest of the world’s company. the wariness of the world, the protection of lee – it never truly waned. as lee got older, it only fused with other things – like her mom’s inability to do certain things around the house, and her increased paranoia of lee leaving and the resulting hesitation for whenever lee had to go to work or even school. 

her responsibility made her both grow up too fast and too little. she had acquired the necessary skills of survival, like cooking and managing money, but little of what was needed for actually living. her mother had been absent for many of lee’s most formative experiences – her first love, first heartache, first friendships. and while some of those things had been hidden away for privacy’s sake or out of fear of her mother’s disapproval, there was always a gnawing voice at the back of her mind reminding her that her mother wouldn’t be fully present even if lee did reach out. she would maybe give lee some comfort and advice, but it would only be a matter of time before she said something else that’d unnerve lee. so, lee avoided it.

and as a result, lee had to learn a lot, maybe too much, on her own once she slowly came to realize just how stilted she was emotionally. it came from careful observation, and an embarrassing amount of self-help books.

though, she can’t help it. part of her still stings with bitterness at how much she had to train herself for because her mother wasn’t there to help her. at least not as much as lee wished for her to be.

“I know,” you softly sigh, rubbing her back. “it’s okay to sometimes want a break, you know? you don’t have to put it all on yourself.”

“she doesn’t have anyone else.” lee feels an odd kick of protectiveness. it’s strange – she doesn’t enjoy visiting most of the time, but she’d never give it up. not when her mom is so alone. in a way, it’s a duty she’s caged into, but she can’t imagine escaping it even if she had the key. both out of obligation and due to the fact that when she spends enough time away, she usually winds up craving the comfort of her mother, anyways. visiting is a way to replenish that in a sense, as well as check in and help. “besides, I owe her this. I already keep so much distance as is.”

“do you think that’ll… change anytime soon? like, her maybe living with you?”

“no.” lee doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but the question is one she’s thought of before, while the answer is engraved in her mind. “I spent too long looking after her, and being scared, and I can’t– I, yeah.”

you squeeze her forearm gently, and lee peers at you, shame coursing through her. will you look down at her for being such a bad daughter?

you’re watching her with eyebrows drawn in, mouth pinched together. she anxiously wonders if it’s disappointment until you squeeze her arm again and say, “I understand. you already spent so many years looking after her, making sacrifices, feeling uncomfortable. you’re not wrong to not want that again. your visits are more than enough.”

she looks down. “thanks.” she certainly doesn’t feel like her visits are enough, but it’s really all she can manage. and it helps, somewhat, to hear you all acknowledge all she’s done. it eases the guilt somewhat, at least in this moment.

“and if you feel anxious there, or want to rant, call me, okay?”

“like a hotline?” she mutters, her lips tickling with the urge to smile. despite the joking words, she feels more than touched by your kindness. it’s nice – that you know about her mom now. at least the explanation is done with, so she can talk about these things without tiptoeing the line between what you know and what else she can reveal.

“oh, yeah,” you snicker. “if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get one of those 1-900 ones.”

lee casts you a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling within her. in all honesty, she’s glad for the chance to discuss something else, feeling worn out from the talk of her impending visit. “did you ever call one of those?”

“yeah,” you giggle, leaning into her conspiratorially. “at, like, fifteen, I think, some of my friends and I brought a bunch of quarters so we could get at least five minutes on the phone with the girl on the other end. honestly, it’s probably what prompted my sexual awakening.” you shoot her a mischievous grin, and lee feels her neck burning. “did you?”

“no.” religious shame, innate discomfort with intimacy and a sheltered upbringing didn’t exactly make for a good combination to be sexually rebellious as a teenager. “I heard people talk about it, though.”

“eh, wasn’t really worth the anticipation. I mean, back then, it was – a woman’s ankle would’ve probably had me frothing at the mouth. but, now?” you shrug, idly brushing your fingers through a bouquet of flowers being sold at one stall. “the real thing is better.”

lee feels her face warming up more, your low tone making it evident what you mean. she can’t help but take a bit of pride in your words – logically, she knows it’s not that much of an accomplishment, but considering how much practice she committed to talking explicitly in her freshman year, it feels like one. 

“once,” you continue, cheeks lifting as you laugh, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, “a guy told me I had the voice of the speaker on 1-900-SPANK-ME.”

her mouth clamps together, feeling a whirring mix of surprise and embarrassment on your behalf. “that’s… unexpected.”

“yeah, I know! I think he liked me or something, but like, a mixtape would’ve sufficed.”

“yeah. do you like mixtapes?” she asks, hoping to sound discreet. 

“yeah, it’s like what I said – homemade stuff is always so thoughtful. I would’ve loved one back then. plus, romance-wise, it’s better than being compared to some girl he heard who said, ‘I want you on top of me so bad.’”

✩

the way you imitate the caller, raising your voice and making it sound more seductive, has lee shifting her shoulders, suddenly keenly aware of just how effortlessly you slid into that role.

“um, well, what did the person say when you called that one time?”

you seem to hesitate for a second, casting her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. whatever you seem to find on her face, though, seems to earn you a boost of confidence, for you then hover your mouth near her ear, quietly answering with a giggle. “oh, you know, something along the lines of, ‘oh, welcome to 1-900-whatever-whatever, where girls with the wettest, juiciest pussies are just aching to talk to you.’”

lee gulps, her abdomen beginning to sizzle with something warm at hearing you say something so filthy. the few times you had uttered such words during sex made her feel swept from under her feet, light-headed and flung somewhere else mentally. there was something about how your voice got huskier in its teasing tone, or higher in shy humiliation, that made her feel totally broken in any reservations, wanting nothing more to drink in all the telltale signs of how you’re feeling and figure it all out like her own special puzzle.

“I see,” she says through gritted teeth, hoping you don’t notice any signs of her sudden arousal.

when your teeth flash at her, her hope cracks a bit, but it feels nice.

you have her so worked up that that night, you two finally try lee’s toy. lying on your sides, face to face, she nearly comes undone at the sight of your mouth falling open, eyes screwed shut, as she spreads you open with her cock. you ask her to let it rest inside you for a few minutes, and for that time, lee rubs soothingly on your clit, kissing you languidly and murmuring how you’re taking her so well. words that made her feel so embarrassed the first time she uttered them, but now, slip from her mouth without an ounce of hesitation. for doing so is only made easier by the way you gasp at the words, your hips twitching. as lee plays with different parts of your body, wanting to spend the night worshipping it as though every inch is a sacred artefact, she wishes she could feel how your pussy wraps around her. how it’s tightening when she gently pinches your nipples or sinks her teeth into your collarbone.

when you adjust, lee has you on your back minutes later, burying her face in your neck as she slowly thrusts in and out. she’s sucking the sweat off your skin, lapping at the tangy taste of it, feeling close to addiction with the way you wrap your legs around her, clawing at her back. 

the sting of it has her panting, “you like that, don’t you?”

you tug on her hair, raising her to a messy kiss. “god, I love it.”

she thrusts harder into you, one thumb flicking over your budded clit, her mouth relentless on your neck. with your hands on her back, your hair plastered to your forehead, you come just like that, body arching against her, chests rubbing together. lee wishes so bad she could feel the way your pussy flutters around her cock, how you clench so hard and latch onto her.

the second time you get back on it that night, you’re riding her. every bounce you take on the strap has the harness pressing against lee’s clit, and she bites her lip to hold back her whimpers. there’s something undeniably attractive about you on top of her like this, tits bouncing, nipples hard, your entire body shaking. you’re struggling so much to keep going, and lee can’t help but wring pleasure out of that, leaning back on her headboard and watching you as you grasp at her stomach with needy hands.

when it gets too hard, you curl your fingers around her neck, panting out, “please, baby, please – ah.”

your words break into a long whine when lee wraps her arms around your torso, holding you flush to her body as she jerks her cock into you, her hips furiously jutting up. the sound of skin smacking rings through lee’s room, and it makes her hole clench in desire.

“couldn’t do it on your own, huh?” she mutters against your ear, her breath hot and moist as she laps at the shell of it. “you just need someone to do all the work for you.”

“no, no, I can do it, I–” your stubborn whines break into a long moan when lee’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping it hard. she relishes in how your skin gets warm to the touch from it, murmuring against your cool, wet skin, “not so mouthy now.”

that only makes your hips jerk harder, and the unexpected motion of it has lee crying out, her eyes tensing shut for a second. 

“oh?” you mutter, pressing your hips back down again, smiling when lee shivers, her hips bucking up. “does that feel good, baby?”

lee’s breath hitches as the pressure of the dildo’s base again pushes against her clit, sending streams of pleasure through her center. she grits her teeth, rasping out, “yeah.”

“poor baby,” you coo, ducking down to process sloppy kisses down her cheek. “feels good to split me open? c’mon, move harder, for both of us.”

“ah, okay,” she brokenly moans, bracing her feet down on the mattress and using the leverage to thrust her hips up.

you keen at the deeper thrusts, and jesus, lee wishes she could feel the way the silicone tip rubs against your g-spot, prodding and pushing the spongy texture of it. how she’d love to just feel your hot, drenched walls clamped up on her, squeezing and gripping, and begging for her to release inside you.

“fuck, feels so nice,” you whine, wrapping your arms around her neck, combing your fingers through her hair. “you’re doing so good.”

the praise has lee burning with pride. it eggs her on, pushing her to arch her hips up more. she grabs your breasts with her hands, pushing her face into them, lips moving without thought. she laps her tongue around the curve of them, nose fetching deep breaths of your scent.

your grasp on her hair tightens. “such a good girl. fuck, please, my nipples, baby.”

your voice feels like seduction personified, low and heady and making lee’s head spin with the way you’re guiding her. you use your hands to keep her arms locked in around your waist, almost as though you’re silently demanding her to help you. and lee is seized by the switch in dynamics whole-heartedly, the sight of you being pleasured and staying in control making her throb with want. there’s something almost relieving about being the one without the reigns. she’s so accustomed to having her fingers sunk deep into every situation regarding herself, wanting to weave and structure it according to the rules. but, giving herself over to you like this means that for once, her control, her decisions – it’s all tossed out the window. usually, she hates that, but with you, someone she trusts. it feels good, it feels like she can commit herself to letting go for once.

and so, lee obeys without a second thought, her mouth wrapping around your perked nipple and sucking it into her mouth, the stiff texture of it against her tongue making her groan. her fingers work diligently on the other one, flicking her thumb over it, then lightly rolling. 

your hips buck harder through it, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. lee takes the opportunity immediately, lifting her head up to draw your tongue into her mouth, eyes closing as she sucks and licks at the soft, pink muscle. 

“mm,” you whine against her sloppy kisses, “you’re such a good girl. filling me up like this.”

lee hisses, the praise driving her to push into you even harder. 

and you sit there, on her cock, taking it so well. just remaining wrapped up in her arms, tightly clutching on, as it rams into you over and over again. lee sinks her teeth into your shoulder, the wet squelches ringing through the room making her squeeze down on nothing. with the mix of lube, spit and juices lathered on your folds, you sound like a mess. god, she wishes she could add to it, wishes this silicone could be real and she could send spurt after spurt of her seed into you. she wants to claim you in every way.

and it seems you feel the same way, your mouth desperate and quick on her neck, sucking dark marks into her skin. lee’s so sensitive that she feels like every patch you give attention to is made of needles, prickling, skimming and stinging as you nip and mark her up. 

when you pull away, your lips turn up in a wide smile. you mutter, lips ghosting hers, “you’re all mine, okay?”

lee bites her lip, arousal coursing through her from the words. since you guys got together, it’s been clear you have a possessive streak to your affection. usually, lee wouldn’t like the idea of someone staking any sort of claim on her. but, with you, there’s something sweet about it, how badly you want her to be only yours. it also amuses her, since she’s been yours for months, and there’s no way she’d leave you – so, this side of is less than reasonable to her. 

but, your jealousy has never caused any dire sort of situation in your guys’ relationship, so as of now, the little showings of it are something she allows herself to find pleasure in, both from how endearing you are when it happens and from how it makes her feel to be so wholeheartedly desired.

besides, she’s not much better than you in that regard. maybe some, but not a lot.

“I’m yours.”

“good, good,” you moan, dragging her back in for a long kiss, your tongue clumsily swirling around hers. 

minutes later, you whimper, your voice timid when you mumble, “lee, my thighs… they hurt.”

lee laughs lightly against your lips, feeling heat pool in her stomach from your confession. wordlessly, she eases you off her cock, relishing in the moan you release when she slips out fully. she pushes you gently onto your stomach, nearly gasping at how good you look like this. your back’s fully exposed, sweat shining the skin, and your ass has lee’s fingers twitching with how badly she wants to hit it. she runs her fingers along your thighs, stopping to grip your hips tightly and tug you up so that your ass is in the air. you whine at the change of position, rubbing back against her bobbing, sopping dildo.

lee grits her teeth, taking in a deep breath before she starts.

once you’ve adjusted, she doesn’t falter, her hips snapping against you without a moment of slowing down. you bury your face into her pillow, incomprehensible words flowing from your mouth, muffled against the fabric. her nails dig so hard into your flesh that she leaves crescent-shaped marks, and she can’t help but fondle with the skin there, groping and pinching as she pumps in. 

“can you spank me?” you whine, biting into the pillowcase.

lee doesn’t respond, but her hand immediately plants a firm swat on your ass, teeth clenching at the way you rock back against her from the impact. at this angle, she can see the way the rim to your hole stretches over her, latching onto her cock and keeping her locked in. she brushes her thumb against it, breaths heaving at the way your arousal sometimes drips when she pulls out. 

later, you come with lee still behind you, your front pressed against her headboard, back flush to her breasts as she encircles you in her arms. her mouth feels practically ravenous, hungry kisses littered over your neck as she rubs at your clit and mumbles, “so tight for me, so good. I can’t wait to see you come for me like this.”

you cry out, clutching onto her arms. “I need it so bad.”

“yeah?” she snickers, an idea stirring in her mind.

a moment later, her thrusts slow, finger circling your clit with enough pressure to get you twitching, but light enough that any orgasm drawn from it would be so far from satisfying.

“beg,” she murmurs, pinching your nipple hard.

your entire body writhes, head falling against her shoulder as you cry out. “but, but, it’s embarrassing–”

“I don’t care,” lee cuts in, stiff as she tries to keep her voice calm and removed from the trembles and heavy breathing that results from her arousal. “if you beg, I’ll make you feel good. otherwise, you can get yourself off.”

“lee!” you moan in protest. “that’s so mean–mmph!”

she shuts you up with a hard kiss, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. “I don’t care. do it.”

“I–I…” your words falter, before a quiet string of them fall from your lips. “please, lee, I need it so bad.”

“you can do better than that,” she whispers. there’s something about dominating like this that’s also relieving in its own right. she gets to focus solely on guiding and directing you through a series of steps – something she’s good. in addition to that, she can’t help but feel her mind go a bit slack at just how eager you are to follow directions, just how much of a control she has over you. 

despite all the progress she made since the start of university, it still makes her feel a bit guilty, to thrive off of that. but, she tries not to pay it mind in this moment, when your moans and cries are clear indicators that you’re enjoying this too.

“fine, I– please, please, please, lee! I need it so bad, need to come so bad, I’m aching for it, and I promise I’ll be good, and–” your words break off into a stifled noise as she starts working her way into you again, hips slamming vigorously. 

you come just like that, body squirming, lips hovering against hers as you softly wail into the small space of her bedroom. your hips flinch all the way through it, and lee needs to press her arms into you to keep you still. lee hearing and witnessing the evidence of your pleasure has her taut with tension and arousal. you look perfect like this – sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly taken care of.

post-cuddles, when lee tosses the strap onto the towel on the floor, she immediately flushes at the downright evil giggle you release at seeing her grey boxers soaked through. 

“now, what do we have here?” you drawl, fingers slipping down the waistband and drawing them down. when you spread her thighs out, eyes immediately flicking to the spot between them, lee feels heat run up her neck from the way you smile, eyes crinkling in sheer satisfaction. “such a mess, baby.”

she swallows hard. “I– it’s not my fault.”

“oh, I know, I know,” you gently soothe, shifting down her bed to get your head lower. “you poor thing, you just couldn’t help it, could you?”

your tone, so sweet, so patronizing, has her hips shifting, a mix of embarrassment and arousal whirling through her.

when you keep staring at her, clearly awaiting an answer, she rolls her eyes, though her hips stutter. “no, I couldn’t.”

“you know, I’d usually make you wait longer for this kind of attitude.” you bat your lashes at her, and lee feels her clit throb when you flatten your tongue along her inner thigh and stroke along it slowly. “but, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

lee’s bucking into your face a few moments later, her entire pussy aching with the way you devour her, starting off with slow, open-mouth kisses along her folds and lips, pausing to draw different spots into your mouth and tug on them until she hisses in protest. you lave your tongue all over her, tracing and slipping, as though you’re starving and eager to drink up everything she has to offer. the thought itself is enough to make lee squirm. 

when you get to her clit, you keep the point of your tongue stroking along the hood, not directly on the bud just yet but toying at the sides. lee’s fingers tighten onto the sheets, her patience waning. 

“please, I need more,” she gasps out, her long-awaiting arousal snatching her of any reservations.

“awe, but you sound so cute like this.” your words are punctuated with a delicate kiss to her clit, and lee releases a choked out gasp. 

after a few more small, wet kisses peppered over the length of her, you finally round your lips around her clit, sucking it in with fluid motions. everytime your lips tighten around her, the ache in her clit deepens, and lee’s head falls against her pillow, mouth hanging open as a velvety, warm surges through her. 

with two fingers buried in her deep, your mouth is relentless in your attempt to draw out pleasure from her, moving from slow, patient sucks and kisses to your tongue flattening and running up and down her clit. the firm, steady rolls of your tongue have her teetering on the edge of climax, . it only worsens when you lift your thumb up, and start flicking the bottom of her clit, your tongue moving in quick, hard motions against the rest.

without meaning to, her hands fly up, gripping onto your head and keeping you in place as her hips mindlessly thrust into your face, her entire back arching as an embarrassingly high-pitched noise wrings from her throat. her orgasm hits her so hard that it almost feels like something is internally shattering, releasing a damn of hot, overwhelming relief through her body, almost painful in how intense it is.

when the last of her aftershocks wear off, shakily lowering her body back to the mattress, she sucks in a deep breath. “I– thanks. for that.”

you giggle, crawling up her body. “I should thank you.” laying on top of her, you kiss her slowly, tenderly, and lee basks under the attention. there’s something painfully vulnerable, and limitlessly freeing, when she’s surrounded in such unabashed intimacy with you. a part of herself, the one containing the desires and wants, that’s usually kept wedged shut, is totally open to you and all your care. it’s frightening, it’s fragile, but it feels so nice when you receive her with nothing but understanding kisses and words, assuring her of everything she wants with you.

when you break the kiss, you mutter, “giving me the strap just two days before you leave. that’s evil, you know?”

despite herself, a lazy grin curls on her lips, the weight of you on top of her possibly one of the most comforting things she’s ever felt. especially when you stroke her hair and rub her arm. she feels so desired under your gaze, yeah, and she’s not used to it, and feels a bit awkward by it. but, it also makes her feel like she’s being seen in a way only you can behold in your gaze. that makes it special. and to know you want her, maybe as much as she wants you – as surreal and intimidating as it is, it makes her stomach flip.“maybe it was part of some ploy to ensure you stay waiting for me.”

“trust me, you need no ploy.”

lee bites her lip. you’re so sure of her, so certain about your choice in her. she doesn’t know how to handle that. 

but, she will, at least now, let herself indulge in it, her head curling into your neck.

✩

–

“can I please get these?” 

you immediately recognize the voice, like the soundwaves of it are imprinted on your heart. head jolting up, your cheeks ache at the sight of lee timidly sliding over some candy and a bouquet of flowers. 

“sure, miss,” you drawl out, hands shaking a bit as you scan and check out her items. she’s picked you up after your shifts before, sure, but she’s never actually seen you in action. it puts a silly sort of pressure on you, and you try to be smooth and efficient in packing her things up in a paper bag. “what are the flowers for?” you add, batting your eyes exaggeratedly at her.

“for amaya.”

“oh.” your bottom lip juts out, and you meekly slide her groceries to the edge of the counter. it makes sense, considering amaya’s small get-together is tonight and lee will be wishing her off. but, still, ugh, how embarrassing.

after taking in the sight of you for a few moments, lee says, “I can get you some too.”

“no, but now, it’s only happening because I asked for it!” you whine, feeling rather petulant. 

“but, isn’t that how anything is acquired? you ask for it before?”

your teeth clench at her logic. “but, with flowers, that should be a given!”

“how, though? I didn’t know if you liked them or not, so I didn’t get them.”

“yes, but you could’ve figured it out by getting me some.” your tone is embarrassingly high-pitched now, raising in exasperation.

her eyebrows furrow. “but, if you didn’t like them, then it’d be a waste of money.”

“I’d automatically like them because they’re from you!”

she blinks at you, her mouth curling in thought. after a moment, she says, “okay, I’ll remember that.”

you give her a pointed look, yanked out of the conversation when an old man begins placing his groceries on the belt. at least it didn’t end on a bad note, considering she seems to get your perspective. and as stubborn as you feel, you understand hers, too – it’s one crafted by pure logic and a bit of lax regarding social norms. which encapsulates your girlfriend perfectly. 

when you’re done cashing up the man’s groceries, there’s a moment of quiet before any new customers come, and you use it to breathe in the quiet buzz of the day, thankful for the store soon closing. lee takes advantage of it, moving closer and dragging her finger through your belt loop. “are you upset?”

you’re unable to resist the smile that prods at your mouth. “no. I get what you mean. I’m sorry.” you blow out a deep breath. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“yeah, I’m sure that’s all there is to it,” she whispers, the sweet little lines near her mouth dipping as she grins. “don’t forget, we leave at nine.”

“yes, mom,” you shoot, gently pushing her at the hip as she walks away.

at maria and amaya’s party, you watch in admiration as lee bounces between your side and her friends’. you try to give her that space, wanting her to have time with them as just a trio before amaya leaves. whenever lee catches your gaze from across the room, you give her a subtle thumbs up, smiling softly at the sight of her, laughing and relaxed with her friends. she always nods at your reassurance, though it’s usually followed by her visiting your little corner, tucked away with some random people you don’t know. she checks on you, diligently, without break.

and you check on her in your own private ways too. fiddling with her bangs when she comes over to you, quietly asking if she needs a moment alone. the first time she nods, a response you had anticipated from her stiff stance and flickering eyes, you hold her hand and ask maria if the two of you could head to her bedroom for a second. she seems to understand immediately and sends the two of you off.  

but, you can tell the party does lee some good. even though she continues to slink off to maria’s bedroom throughout the night, she’s attached to her friends for most of it, welcoming their touches and leaning on them as they talk, gaze intent. and her eyes glimmer with a sort of pride when amaya eagerly takes the flowers, arms tossing around lee and yanking her down for a hug. 

the party, surprisingly, does you some good, too. when you join the three of them deeper into the night, lee’s hand resting on your back, amaya says, “lee told us you’re still kind of undecided on what to do, right?”

you wish the earth would swallow you whole, a pinch of irritation piercing your stomach at lee’s revelation. wincing slightly, you hesitantly say, “yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do.”

you brace yourself for some judgement, an awkward silence or a round of laughter. or some confusion as to how you’ve been in university for four years and still haven’t managed to figure it out.

but, instead, maria shrugs and says, “listen, I’ve known I’ve wanted to go into law since I was in middle school, but I don’t think that’s the only way to do it. my sister changed her major during her fourth year, switching from engineering to music. and such a last minute change probably wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t rushed her decision and just picked something my parents wanted. so, really, you’re probably gonna waste a lot less time figuring things out, and then looking for a job, as opposed to rushing, working in a field you don’t like for years, then having to start all over.” 

your mouth twitches as her shoulders lift into a delicate shrug, taking a sip from her drink and then sneering at the contents of the cup. god, she’s so much like lee. pure, unadulterated, hard logic.

whereas amaya seems to be the sweet, calm sort of balm, adding, “plus, even for your own peace of mind – it’s better to make a choice you’re sure about.” she offers you a nod, eyes soft. “it’s not a race, you know. take your time, and you’ll be okay.”

their words have you nearly driven to tears from the relief it settles upon you. for weeks, you’ve been feeling a range of emotions, from insecurity to fear, about your lack of plans and surety as to what you want to do post-grad. and while lee has been such a comfort, part of you has worried that her comforting comes from a place of her not wanting to hurt you. which doesn’t make sense, considering her natural bluntness, but still, your anxieties make it all too easy to minimize that aspect of being. so, to hear two people who owe you nothing telling you it’s okay, handling the situation with a kindness that’s both pragmatic and centered on time, as well as gentle and reassuring, takes a weight off your shoulders. it doesn’t completely ease your worries, but it certainly helps.

you go before lee, wanting to give her some time alone with her friends so they can properly exchange their goodbyes. before you go, you take out your camera and snap a picture of the three of them, amaya making a silly expression, maria smiling widely, and lee, after some convincing from amaya, meekly poking out her tongue. 

when they hug you goodbye, and you get to maria, she whispers, “thank you for looking after her.”

the small show of gratitude warms you for the rest of your way home. to think that you’ve secured the approval of her friend in that way, as well as recognition for the ways in which you try to support her. it makes you feel like you’re doing something right. 

when lee returns home, her eyes are tired, sad, and she immediately dives into your bed, nuzzling sweetly into your chest. you know that discomfort and a faint sense of mourning must be keeping her company. her friend will be gone when she returns from her mother’s, a friend who’s been webbed into her life for four years now. you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain lee is in – she probably won’t tell you, that much is certain, but you can feel it in the way her breaths shudder against your skin, her body sagged and pliant. 

“it’ll be okay,” you murmur into her chestnut hair, dotting kisses into the smooth locks of it. “you guys can try to work in, like, weekly phone calls.”

“it’s not the same,” she whispers. 

there’s no denying it, so all you can do is whisper, “I know, baby,” and hold her close. 

minutes later, you shiver upon feeling the kiss she presses on your neck, her hot breath ghosting along your skin as she mutters, “it won’t be the same without you either.”

your arm tightens at the reminder of tomorrow’s departure. you’ve been trying not to think too much about it, simply wanting to deal with it when it happens and not have to carry the weight of premature longing and devastation. but, now, when there’s less than twenty four hours lingering between this moment and when lee will leave, you can’t help but cling onto her. in another week, you yourself will be heading home for two weeks, but still, it’s not the same without the steady, formidable rock of your girlfriend, with those dark embers that make you feel alive, and those fleeting smiles that make her face glow like the moon. the gentle touches that protectively skim along your waist, the way she’s so careful and kind, her thoughtfulness laced into every word. how will you do without those things? how will you manage without being there to give her comfort and love when she needs it? you want to be there to hold her, assure her, take care of her. staying away is just as heartbreaking for the things you can’t give her as it is for the things you can’t receive.

“call me when you reach, okay?”

“I will. and call me if you need anything.”

“that comes with the risk of you potentially leaving early and driving to rescue me,” you giggle, getting lost in the motion of twirling her dark hair around your fingers.

“what’s wrong with that?” she mumbles, dipping her nose into your neck. 

you lightly smack her back with a chortle. “lee! you need to stay with your mom.”

“I know, so I’d just drive back to oregon once the problem is resolved.”

god, what did you do to deserve her? you want to sprinkle her face in thousands of kisses, body seized with a deep squeeze of gratitude for her. “that’s sweet. but, only do something like that for emergencies, yeah?” your voice trickles to a gentler tone at the end, not wanting to make her feel scolded.

“if it’s you, it always feels like an emergency.”

your eyebrows scrunch together. “is this meant to be a dig about me being clumsy?”

“no, it’s meant to be a fact about how much I– how much I worry.” her voice lowers towards the end, and you squeeze, wondering if she’s thinking of her mother.

you rub her back, hoping the motion will help relax her. “nothing will happen, baby.”

she hums, raising her head up. “I’ll, um… I’ll miss you.” she dips her head down, planting a kiss to the point of your chin. “a lot.”

everytime she speaks a sentiment like that, it feels like a flower in you is blooming anew, all of them collected in your chest – a garden just for you to look back on and tend to when you want to remember her. with each kiss, she waters it, and with each tender word, she plants something new. you know how hard it’s been for her, to get more accustomed to being so open, but she’s trying, you know she is. and though her words may stumble with awkwardness, and pause with careful consideration, they carry a world of intention. and what’s more romantic than that?

“I’ll miss you, too. sweet angel.”

she stills at that. “you say things like that so easily.”

“because it’s the truth.”

“I don’t know if it is.”

“that’s okay. I’ll know it for you.”

you feel an amused huff hit your neck and can’t help but smile in pride over having made her laugh. “so, I have no choice but to agree to these terms and conditions?”

“none at all.”

“so, I probably shouldn’t try to convince you otherwise, then?” the words are mixed in with open-mouthed kisses to your neck, her hand rubbing at your tummy, the cool touch making you arch up. 

“I can’t make any promises, but you can try,” you laugh, tugging on her ponytail so she can kiss you.

you two make love several times that night, bodies melding and conjoining in a blur of sweat, kisses and soft words, with breaks in between consisting of lying in bed, talking, or falling asleep before one of you starts yearning for touch again. 

you can’t find it in your heart to rank these short, warm moments, but your favourite amongst them has to be the last. it’s four in the morning, the world outside is still dark, the stars staring upon you with twinkling eyes. the windows have been tossed open, noises of drunken students and dragonflies bringing your apartment to life. lee is at the stove, flipping two grilled cheese sandwiches on a pan smeared with bubbling butter, the smell of the toast wafting from the kitchen to the bathroom, where you sit on the toilet, washing your sore center, the door unabashedly open so that you can hear the music. 

at the sound of an all-too-familiar strum of the guitar, you race out after washing your hands, nearly tripping over your discarded bra on the floor. 

“I love this song,” you squeal, dashing to the radio and turning on one knob until the noise of it is loud and clear. 

just as always, lee asks, “what is it?”

“you don’t know it?” you gasp. “we were kids when it came out, it’s the smiths!” you used to get giddy whenever a friend’s parent put it on in the car when driving you all somewhere. especially during summertime, with the windows wound down and the breeze flying through your hair. it felt freeing, like you were getting a taste of independence, head sticking out the window and that deep, husky voice surrounding you, thrusting you into a flurry of dreams and hopes.

lee pauses, eyebrows drawing in as she listens. after a few moments, she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

“it’s dangerously underrated.” you turn it up a bit more, leaning on the counter to stare at her. there’s something special about the moment with the way the warm, orange light dimly coats lee’s body, how her lithe, strong fingers work on the sandwich, the aroma of it wrapping around the apartment. how the melancholic song, heavy and moist like a spring wind near the water, plays in the background of this quiet, private night that feels reserved for just the two of you. anyone else existing in it is far from this small kitchen, playing on the streets, dancing under the streetlights, maybe even relishing in the flow of music through your open windows. 

lee must feel your eyes on her, for she raises hers to yours slowly, mouth parting then shutting before asking, “what is it?”

“do you wanna dance?”

you don’t know why, but something about this night feels like it’s set apart from the rest, lingering in this space where nothing can go wrong, where all the rules and realities are bent. the girl you love is leaving tomorrow, you both are up at an obscene time when she should probably be asleep, and also spent hours upon hours rolling around in the bed that a year ago, you never thought she’d occupy. and so, you want to do something with her you two have never done together, something she’d usually say no to.

“um, not really.”

you skip over to her spot at the stove. she’s never seen you dance, so part of you is just as embarrassed, your stomach coiling with nervousness. but, her own hesitation pushes you forward, hoping your own false courage rubs off on her. “c’mon, please, please. please, just this once.” you hold her wrist, lightly tugging.

she gives you a narrowed look, but doesn’t pull out of your grip. “I–I don’t dance.”

“I don’t do it much either! but, c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

she flatly watches you. “will it really?”

honestly, knowing lee, it feels a bit of a lie to confirm the truth of the notion. “I don’t know, let’s see.” 

you tug again, and with a sigh, she switches off the stove, letting you guide her. you guys end up in the small space between the kitchen and living room, and you awkwardly swing your arms together, not really knowing what to do. lee stares at the ground, clearly just as uncomfortable as you. you use that to urge yourself on, grabbing her other hand and beginning to push and pull between the two of you to the beat. 

when lee keeps her body stiff, arms flailing lifelessly from your encouragement, you whine, “okay, give me something!”

“I don’t even know what qualifies as ‘something’ when it comes to dancing.”

“just any movement, c’mon, you can do it!” you coax, intensifying your movements by bouncing on the balls of your feet. it feels slightly humiliating to devote more of your body to dancing when lee is still as frozen as ice, but you push yourself through for the sake of making her more comfortable. besides, the longer you two stay together, the more likely she’ll bear witness to even more weird shit from you, so might as well peel one layer off now.

you do a small twirl under her arm, but lee’s death grip makes you struggle to do it smoothly, so you wind up stumbling in a circle under your raised arms. it ignites a chuckle from lee, and you use that as an opportunity to pull her in closer, jumping a bit higher. 

“come on, come on, pretend it’s exercise,” you laugh, pressing a shaky kiss to her lips. in the middle of it, lee hesitantly waddles her shoulders side to side, the rest of her body honed in on one position, simply standing upright.

you’re more than encouraged by the minimal movements, tightly gripping her hands and continuing to jump and twirl around her until she seems a tad looser, letting you yank and spin her body around. you two dance around the apartment for a while like that, your warm interlocked fingers giving you just enough leverage to pull her around the apartment, dragging her into head-dizzying swivels and pushes and pulls that send your arms pained with the exertion, cheeks aching with sheer, childlike delight.

you even pull out a few laughs of lee, who later into it, seems to actually enjoy herself, beaming and moving faintly with you. and you feel like you could float.

please keep me in mind.

a sentiment that wraps around your body when you dance, as well as in the morning after, when you lie next to lee in the morning. she’s still asleep, sweet thing, her torso bare from the night having gotten too hot from her. she looks perfect like this, your floral sheets wrapped around the slope of her waist, her freckled back the dip you get to press your lips against.

when the time gets close to 10:00AM, which she had set her alarm to, you give into your finger’s urges, laying them upon her freckled skin. you trace mindless patterns and swirling shapes, smiling at the way her body slightly squirms under your ministrations. you continue like that, using her back as your sheet of paper to draw anything you’d like.

you pause, thinking of a particular note you’d like to leave her if you did have some paper. a note you’d like to write all over her if you could, until it sinks into her just how real the sentiment is. 

maybe you’ll write it now – something temporary to convey to her, something that feels a bit easier with the absence of permanency. maybe once she returns, you’ll have built up the courage to really tell her it.

I LOVE YOU.

you sign it with a kiss, pulling back when she groans, rubbing her eyes, panic momentarily bursting through your stomach.

she rolls back to you, eyes filled with goop in the inner corners. you raise your thumb to smear some of it away, pecking her nose. she doesn’t say anything, and seems to be right in the first moments of awakening, which eases some of your anxieties. 

she raises her arm, brown underarm hair tickling against your cheek, smelling of her deodorant. long fingers brush through your hair, and you swallow hard at the feeling of her dark eyes resting intently upon you. they flick along every feature painting your face, and the sharp focus of it has your face warming.

“what is it?”

“you’re beautiful.” 

there’s no hesitation in the words, and the surety of them have you laughing shyly, flicking her chest lightly and mumbling, “no, you are.”

her lip quirks up. “is this gonna turn into a competition?”

“yeah, but you have to head onto a train soon, so I’ll probably be the one to have the last word.”

she snorts. “good to know that winning by default isn’t below you.”

“hey, it’s still winning,” you cackle, though secretly, you know it won’t feel like winning at all when lee steps onto that train. 

the evidence of that fact comes to you too quickly, the next few hours of breakfast and taking the subway to the station lee’s train is departing from happening all too fast. it all flashes by so fast that by the time the line is moving and lee needs to head down the escalator, duffel bag clutched tightly, you feel a rush of emotions surge into you at the sight of her so close to leaving – pride for what you now know she’s going back for, heartache for the struggle it’ll be, loneliness at the thought of her absence, and another ache, one that can only truly be described with one word.

lee’s eyes flick to behind her, where people are heading down the escalator in a messy, jumbled file. “I should go.” 

you’d maybe grow insecure about whether leaving is difficult for her if it weren’t for how when she turns back to you, her eyes are wide, blinking hard, hesitation clearly present in the way they remain pinned on your face, unmoving, even though she ought to be leaving. her empty hand is rolled into a tight fist, stretching out to rasp against her thigh before she mutters, “can I hug you?”

you immediately lunge at her, throwing your arms around her neck. you feel the fabric of her duffle bag brush your leg as she drops it, her strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding your body flush to hers. she buries her nose into your neck, and you nearly croak at the way she breathes you in. you know how much she likes that spot in your neck, how often she lays her head in it when cuddling. you wonder if she’ll miss it. if she does, you can’t imagine how it’d be even half as much as you’ll miss her steady, grounding arms around you.

you dig your nails into her shoulders, trying to relish in this last moment of her being around you, totally surrounding your every sense. she smells of her neutral soap, accompanied by a faint whiff of cologne and the familiarity of your laundry detergent, coating an old t-shirt of yours that she threw on this morning. the sight had made you soften in all the right places, wanting to bury your face in her chest and scream at the sight of her wearing something belonging to you. it produced such a possessive bolt through you – she’s yours, yours and yours. yours, completely. your lee, comfortable enough to borrow your clothes, intimate enough with you to wear them as her own and let the fabric that’s rested on your skin for years slide against yours. it makes you feel moulded into her, as though deep in the stitches there had always existed a patient wait for lee to one day wear this as her own. 

when you two part, faces close enough that your breaths to intermingle, you wait for her to push away and go, wanting to soak up the sight of her as much as possible before she leaves.

instead, she raises a trembling hand to your cheek and cups it, rough fingertips stroking the small bumps dotting your skin. a moment later, she leans into you and plants a short-lived kiss on your lips, firm and filled with an acute sense of intention and determination. you can feel the concentration and strength it takes for her to do that, her breaths shaky and heaving against you when she separates. but, she’s trying. for you, for herself, for what you two have. it makes you want to drag her back in for another, but her eyes are skittering nervously to the escalator, and you know she’s feeling too anxious to be running more late.

you gently push at her wrist. “go, go, baby. call me when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” she slips her wrist from your grip, sliding her fingers between yours and gently squeezing. “page me when you reach the apartment.”

the unspoken meaning hangs between you both.

when she starts going down the escalator, her head swivels back to her. trying to not worry her with the heartache that’s already settling in, pained and filled with the weight of dread, you blow her a kiss.

you recover momentarily when she glances around before sending you one back, the gesture stiff, awkward, and oh-so lovely. 

as it turns out, you recover from the heartache in a sprinkle of different moments that day.

✩

it doesn’t fully go, but it eases in those seconds. like when you curl into lee’s bed and sleep in her scent. or when you get off to the memories of last night. or when you call one of your friends and make plans to develop your pictures tomorrow. 

✩

or when you’re drinking tea before bed and as you head to the tree to turn off the tree’s lights, you find a tape laying upon the mini-skirt of it.

body thrumming with excitement, you pick it up, a grin splitting on your face when you read the sticky note pressed to its side.

It’s a bit late in terms of when you wanted one, but I hope you’ll accept it now. Think of it as an overdue gift from someone who would’ve wanted to make you one back in high school if we had been just a bit closer to each other.

– Lee

just like last time this happened, your eyes water, emotions seizing at you from the thoughtfulness of her gift. she really was always listening, wasn’t she? picking up on clues and hints about her loved ones, almost like little love notes, and using them to thoroughly understand all of them. her care seems to have no bounds – always executed through her attentive listening, mental noting, and action. true action, where no promises are broken and no doubt could ever be tied to her earnestness.

you immediately pop it into your walkman, eagerly putting on your headphones and walking to the kitchen. as you make a sandwich in this place that cracks and bends with familiarity, Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy playing in your ears and making the tears leak out, plans to meet your friends hanging on your mind, you suddenly feel very at ease. you may not know all your answers, or be sure of everything you feel, or are even over everything you feel, like the occasional bouts of anxiety for the future. but, this is still a life. one that you breathe in everyday, that has little rituals you could never part from, and contains things you are sure of. 

and that’s enough.

–

when lee walks up the pathway to her small white home, the unmaintained grass and weeds scratching insistently at her shins (she makes a mental note to mow it down later into the week), she lets her eyes wander around, drinking in the sight. her preferred seasons are fall or winter, but she can’t ignore how beautiful oregon looks this time of year. in the heady month of august, her mother’s home is surrounded by lush trees that arch over the roof, the pine trees a dark contrast. maybe that’s why she’d like to live in a cottage. maybe it’d make her feel more tethered to her childhood home in a way that living in the city never could. she purses her lips as she steps onto the porch. she never thought of it that way.

she tentatively opens the door, the creak ringing through the house and making her cringe. her eyes immediately scan the staircase, feeling a pierce of discomfort at the two new boxes that seem to have been added since her last visit. the more she looks around, the more the sizzling anxiety in her stomach begins to burn. she draws in heavy, even breaths, trying to level herself. she can focus on this later. right now, she wants to see her mom.

her hand pushes the door to the living room open, her mother seated on a couch that is propped in the back with more blankets a person could ever need in the summer. trinkets and clutter turn the room into filth, hiding the floor and any inch of an empty surface. lee swallows hard and quietly says, “hi, mom,” approaching the woman in question.

her chin fits just right on her mother’s shoulder, silky grey hair rubbing against her cheek as they embrace for a long while. with anyone else, excluding her friends and you, she’d be on edge from such a lingering touch. but, with her mom, it’s an automatic, something she doesn’t even think twice about before giving her now. it’s become that embedded into their interactions, especially since lee moved away for university.

 when lee sits next to her, a hand immediately patting down the soaked-through back of her t-shirt, her mother asks, “how were exams?”

“good.” she hesitates before blurting out, “I upped the lease. I’m going to stay there for a while longer.”

her mother is silent for a long while, her hand freezing, and lee instinctively tenses, awaiting some verbal reprimanding. they never really spoke of what lee would do post-graduation, but lee can imagine part of her mom had hoped for her to return to oregon and work there.

“I’m sorry. I want to come back. maybe one day.” she intentionally keeps it vague – she really isn’t sure if she’ll return. 

the hand resumes its stroking. “I can’t blame you for that, babygirl. what would you do here?”

work. take care of you, probably. 

lee sighs. “I don’t know.”

“I wanted more at your age, too. to work, to be away from my family.”

that’s what hurts, too. all her mom has missed out on, all that’s been lost in the midst of that night and the results of it. her mom had once been a nurse – still paranoid, still religious, but lee likes to think she was at least content with her life. now, however? lee isn’t sure if her mom could even answer that. 

“do you feel you got that? more than what was expected of you, I mean.” lee rarely asks about her mom’s past. as a child, she always did, filled to the brim with curiosity over the kind of person her mother was before lee came into existence. now, lee never asked. not out of disinterest, she actually thought of her mom’s life a lot. but, it felt too close, too personal, to be asking those things, after years of avoidance.

“I mean, I had you. that gave me more.”

“in a bad way?”

“no.” her mom’s lips tilt up in a faint smile, and lee wishes she knew the meaning of it. “I mean, having you gave me more than I expected to have in this life.”

most daughters would be pleased to hear such a thing. but, all lee feels is a sense of embarrassment at the vulnerable words, as well as doubt. lee undoubtedly did give her mom more than she expected – but, was that really good? with lee’s birth, came the isolation, the thirteenth of january, and everything that occurred after. her mom did, indeed, get more than she bargained for, but lee couldn’t help but feel that more in this case meant unexpected horror. guilt churns in her stomach, and god, she wishes something had been done differently in the trajectory of her mom’s life. something that could’ve prevented all of this.

“maybe too much.”

lee shifts when she feels her mother’s gaze linger on her, and she suddenly regrets having said that. 

“you think I regret it?” lee’s mom’s voice is hushed, raspy at the ends with old age. “I’d do it again. and again, and again…”

as her words dissolve into murmurs, lee feels her stomach sink. her mom is slipping away from this moment, this conversation. lee lets it happen, mulling over her previous words. you think I regret it? how could she not regret it? lee doesn’t know if she likes the idea of her mother not regretting it any more than the idea of her mom regretting having had lee as a daughter. because if her mother doesn’t regret it, then that means part of her mother is okay with all that happened, and maybe even takes a sort of pride in it. all because she wanted lee to be here, no matter the expense. and lee doesn’t want her mother to find any sort of pleasure in this situation, especially because of her. 

“you shouldn’t,” lee whispers, the sound rough. “I wouldn’t want you to deal with all this again.”

her mother’s murmurs crawl into a silence, and she pauses, pursing her lips, before saying, “I would. so, that you could grow up. so, that I can see my little lee grow up.”

lee chews on the inside of her bottom lip silently. she never wanted her upbringing to be at the expense of her mother. but, she knows her mother is just as stubborn as she is. there’s no way of convincing her to regret lee or the situation. if her mom accepts it, if she’s glad of it, lee knows she can’t change that. who knows, maybe lee would feel the exact same way if her life choices also meant she got to live with and watch the life of someone she cared for progress. maybe she just doesn’t really understand the care of a mother just yet – the kind that surpasses anything, so long as your child gets to live and exist. 

her mom’s hand rests on her lower back. “I wanted to have you. it meant I got to watch you grow up.”

“yeah, but…” it meant I got to watch you fall apart. lee can’t bear to say that, though. she doesn’t have the courage to bring to the surface that much. “so much…” she wants to talk about everything, she really does. but, years of failure to do so, both because of her own anxiety and her mother’s refusal to talk, hold her back. is there even a point now? 

her mom speaks before she can decide. “it was okay. I don’t even remember it, I don’t– I don’t remember anything.”

lee swallows hard, her stomach stretching in frustration. she knows her mother remembers, she knows. she just doesn’t want to tell lee. lee wishes she could just drill into her mother’s head that she’s not a child anymore, she can handle the truth. well, the second part may be false. but, at least she’d be there, and they could struggle together. at least lee could know, and have the gap filled, and do something, anything. 

her mother’s head turns away, jaw tight. lee knows she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore – maybe she can’t. 

her hand, trembling lightly, raises, goes back down, then plants hesitantly on her mother’s knee. “you know, if you… ever want to talk about anything, or, I don’t know, what happened, you can talk to me. I’m ready to hear it.”

her mom grips onto lee’s hand like an anchor, and in the squeeze, lee hears the silent acknowledgement, the words her mom can’t, maybe ever, bear to say. 

“it was worth it,” is all her mother murmurs.

lee sighs, then awkwardly, without surety, dips her head onto her mother’s shoulder. she can’t remember the last time she initiated touch like this with her. it feels restrained and uncomfortable, completely foreign and out of place to lee’s body. but, it’s at least something she can offer. she no longer lives here, and can commit to the daily diligence of working and taking care of her mom, which is how she showed her care before. and she still knows nothing, so can offer no weak attempts of verbal comfort. but, maybe this touch, the kind her mother seems to always like and leans into, can be some kind of offering. 

it’s impossible that things can be fixed completely, at least anytime soon. but, she can at least show she’s there. sometimes, she doesn’t want to be, especially after having been there maybe too much in the past. but, when it comes down to it, she’d always be there, waiting for her mother. just as her mother is always here, waiting for her.

maybe one day, they’ll be able to talk about it and fill the gaps together. one day, lee knows she’ll tell her mother about you. she may not be ready now, she may never be ready to learn what her mom feels about it. but, she will speak on it – for her own sake, and yours. and maybe that’ll help her mother open up too, maybe it’ll help her learn that lee can have these conversations, that lee wouldn’t be timid or judgemental for anything that happened that night.

hours later, near to midnight, the television’s still playing in the background, and lee’s fingertips trace the receiver of the kitchen’s phone. she tries to weave together what she should say when you pick up, her thumb brushing the picture of you she secretly keeps in her wallet. 

when she felt your secret message drawn into her back, her eyes had squeezed shut, heartbeat pounding. it was so delicate, slowed by something – lee’s not sure what. hesitation, maybe. but, she hadn’t dared to inquire. she hadn’t dared to do anything, really, anxiety plaguing her and making her frozen in place, unsure of how to react. the last thing she had expected were those three words to be thrusted onto her, and in a panic of how to perceive them, let alone respond, she immediately dropped it. after all, did you even mean it? maybe there was a reason you wrote instead of said it, like not being ready to declare it, or knowing if you even want to declare it. 

and after the flurry of breakfast, last minute packing (a result of the late night of sweat and music, lee gathers), and the drop-off at the train station, lee finally had a moment to sit down, alone, and ask herself: did she love you?

the answer came as fast to her as only pure fact managed to: yes. 

she learned a long time ago that love cannot be quantifiable, measured or determined solely by facts. in other words, it existed in a space she usually wasn’t comfortable to stand in, where feelings were the most reliable evidence. but, she knew, in her gut, that like no longer covered whatever it was she felt for you. in fact, using a word as simple and amicable as like felt like an offense to what it is she felt for you, and tasted sour in her mouth. in what she felt, there was too much intensity, too much of an overflow to hear your conversation and be better for you, to lie in your arms and remain safe there forever, for like to apply.

to her, that was proof enough. it felt like nothing but love, so it must be love – it was that simple. after all, process of elimination seemed the most reliable way of making sense of this feeling. but, the longer the train rode on, the more her thoughts lingered on the topic, she became convinced that even if she had paid just a bit more attention to how she felt, she probably would’ve figured it out. even when she was upset with you, there was a constant underbelly of care and tenderness. when something went wrong, she wanted to tell you and bury her face in your neck. when you showed any sign of sadness lee could manage to detect, she longed to do anything possible to bring you happiness. even if it means breaking down some of her own rock-hard walls, and taking steps of courage she’d fear treading otherwise. with you, it wasn’t easy to be vulnerable, but it was something she wanted to try harder for. because she wanted this to last, and she wanted you happy and cared for. you understand her, she understands you – and she wanted you to understand her, which is a rarity. to her, that’s love.

she picks up the phone. your absence has her longing to hear hear your voice. she’ll make no mention of the three words. she won’t. 

“hello?”

she nearly breaks right then and there. “hey.” 

“hi, baby.” your voice is like a fire, and she rolls in the hearth of it. “how has it been?”

“fine. we spoke a bit. I told her what you mentioned, about, you know, being there when she’s ready to talk.”

she hears you sigh. “I’m so proud of you, lee. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

she twirls the spirals of the phone along her finger, feeling warmed by the words. “thank you. and you? what have you done today?”

“I listened to a certain tape, lover boy.”

your words end with a small bout of laughter and lee bites her lip, cheeks heating up. she had hoped you’d like it, feeling all too exposing and vulnerable in the process of making it. but, she had done her best to push through, knowing it would make you feel happy, even if a mixtape wasn’t something you still harboured much of a wish for. placing it under the tree while you used the bathroom before leaving had felt like laying her heart out on the line. or whatever that saying was. 

“you liked it?”

“I loved it,” you say, your tone sounding like something lee can only describe as melty, eased at the edges, your laughter dissolved. “it’s so lovely, lee. I’ve nearly broken my pencil with all the times I’ve re-wound it. I just– thank you. god, it’s such a nice gift, lee, it means so much to me.”

“it was– you had mentioned the mixtape. you know, from high school?”

“you remember that?” your voice raises a notch higher, sounding so touched that lee needs to clear her throat before answering. 

“yes.” 

“you remember everything, don’t you?”

lee smiles. “I wish I did.”

“me too.” after a pause, you ask, “do you really feel that way, like what’s described in the song? you always think of me? you, you know… yeah, do you feel those things?”

lee clutches onto the phone tighter. two words in the song ring loud and clear in her head, two that flow in just as the melody simmers to a slow. if she answers “yes,” will you realize just how much she means them? she inhales a sharp breath – she doesn’t want to lie to you, and now seems like an opportune moment to tell you what she’s been feeling. she hates being impulsive, yes, but, rare of an occurrence it is, she’s desirous to make her feelings known. maybe it’s to see if you meant what you traced on her back, but also because she just wants it to be known. she wants you to know that what she feels for you can no longer fall under any other word, and she wants you to at least exist with the knowledge that she loves you, even if you don’t return it. she wants to answer you honestly. 

“I, um… I feel…” why is it so hard to say? she has to keep reminding herself that no matter what happens, you and her can together handle any change this could spring upon the two of you. and even if change did come, logically, how bad could it be? she’s simply a person telling their girlfriend that they’re in love. 

“you feel what?” your tone is gentle, but prodding, clearly wanting an answer. maybe that means you really do want her to say it. she doesn’t think you’d be this urgent about her answer if part of you didn’t want to know it. 

that fact urges her on, and she sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “I feel–”

“lee, honey? I’m going to sleep.”

lee turns to her mom, who lingers by the entrance to the kitchen. “okay, mom. goodnight.” 

when the creaks along the staircase dim in noise, you say, “lee?”

she gulps down. it’s good timing, she reminds herself. you’re asking her with all the honesty and openness you expect from her in return. she can do it.

after two more heavy breaths, she spills it out. “I love you.” it’s just a murmur, barely there, but she does it.

it feels almost relieving until several seconds pass, and you say absolutely nothing.

lee tries to stay patient, she really does, but the seconds morph into a minute that feels like eternity, and her patient snaps, stomach turning too fast for her to handle. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why? I called after you. I thought you were still talking to your mom.”

“I-I was before,” she confirms, trailing off, eyebrows drawn in. “but, then, she went upstairs. did you not hear what I said?”

“‘I love you’? yeah, weren’t you… saying that to her?”

lee blinks at the phone, completely silent. she doesn’t want to lie, and even if she did, she’d most likely be terrible at it. and so, she stands there, completely still, hoping you understand her meaning without any coaxing on her end.

“oh,” you whisper. “oh. oh, my god.”

you haven’t returned the sentiment back to lee. that’s the one thing all her thoughts are honed in on, and before you can worry over not returning it, she adds, “you don’t have to say it back if you–”

“are you kidding me?” you guffaw. “not say it back? how can I not say it back? of course, of course I feel the same way.”

lee freezes, her jaw clenching. she feels struck into place, the realization of her returned feelings bolting at her so abruptly she nearly wants to hang up the phone and take a few seconds to process it. you feel the same way. you love her back. it feels unreal, too hopeful, too lucky. of all things lee had expected at the start of the year, finding someone who loves her back was the last of it. 

“oh, okay.” she huffs a sigh as soon as the words slip out. she’s not even close to an expert on romance, nor how one ought to conduct themselves in the throes of it, but she’s certain that that’s not the right response to someone heavily hinting that they love you. “I– sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you say, sounding rather out of breath. “nerves. I get it.”

“yeah.” she rasps her fingers on her thighs, suddenly antsy in this singular position within her kitchen. she wants to go outside and take a walk. but, if she does, she’ll have to hang up. and that seems like the most unwanted thing she could do in this situation.

after another beat of silence, she screws her eyes shut, the shock beginning to morph into a deep plummet of doubt at your lack of confession. “I– really, it’s okay if you don’t want to say it. I–”

“no, no!” you cut in, your voice so squeaky in protest that lee winces, moving her ear back. “no, I’m sorry, I-I was just surprised. I love you too, of course I do, lee.”

lee nearly splutters at the way the words burst from your mouth, so fast that it’s barely detached from the string of the rest of your words. “I– okay. wait, sorry, I– yeah. I love you too.” the words have her stomach turning, the feeling akin to anxiety, but a bit more pleasant, almost as though there’s something eagerly floating through her, sending each nerve tickling in a kind of happiness. 

happiness. that’s what she feels now that some of the confusion is cleared away, the clouds of it removed from the situation. it’s light and overwhelming, and floods her entire body in something sweet and intangible. you love her back. you actually love her. the concept feels like a revelation, some holy occasion beyond the bounds of reality, gifted upon her and only her. as though she’s been the one individual selected for this gift. the words themselves make her feel overwhelmed, too, as though they bear too heavy for someone as mortal as her. she leans her elbows on the plane of the counter, dipping her forehead against her palm. 

“I know, babe, you just said that,” you say, your voice beautiful with the way laughter wraps around the words. 

“I know,” she grunts, running her hand over her face. “well, I know now. I’m just– just shut up.”

“awe, is that a whine I hear?”

“no,” she snickers, embarrassment curling through her, hot and heavy. “you confused me before, alright?”

“hey, you’re the one who didn’t confirm her mom went upstairs!”

“well, because I thought the minute long silence was enough of an indicator that conversation with my mom had ended. most people are usually able to gauge that.”

“ugh!” you scoff. “is that how you talk to the person you’re in love with?”

jesus, how embarrassing – you’re surely going to spend weeks now holding that over her head. “if they’re not making sense, yes.”

“well, they don’t have to make sense, right? you should know – after all, love doesn’t make sense, but you just declared that you love me.”

your mocking words have her slightly humiliated, yes, but they also arouse a jolt of pride and possessiveness through her. you know she loves you, and she knows you love her. just another thing to share between yourselves, privately reserved for your exchanged words and touches. and while your satisfaction will most likely result in a ceaseless amount of jokes that she’s the center of, she can’t help but feel a warmth from the way you’re lavishing under the confession. she’s glad to have given you that ego stroke, that dose of love and surety. 

and so, she lets you go on with your jokes and when you ask, she says it again. “I love you.” 

and your voice gets soft, in that way that sends her stirring as though she’s been half-awake her entire life until that moment, and you say, “I love you too, sweet girl. you’re the sweetest, you know?”

and sure, it makes her hot in her face and shift on the stool she drags to the counter later on so that she can talk to you comfortably. but, it makes her smile to hear you giddily laugh and whine, and it makes her feel afloat when you return the words. shell-shocked, sometimes. but, most of all, adored, so adored that she nearly shies away from saying it again.

but, still, she says it. she wants you to know. she wants to tell you these things.

----

some notes about your guys' life together:

when lee returns and you show her the photos you've printed, the first thing she does is hang them up in her bedroom, filling the space of her blank walls (the gesture and sight makes you cry, and she holds you for the rest of the night)

lee introduces you to her mom at graduation, and you take pictures of them together that ruth takes back to oregon

months later, lee tells her mom about you two. it's fast, to-the-point, and blurted out the morning of her departure to come back home to you. her mom acknowledges it, quietly, then continues to eat. weeks pass of neither of them mentioning it until lee one day says on the phone, as firmly as she can muster, "this is someone in my life. I don't want you to ignore them, please." after that call, they don't speak until ruth calls her one day. when she asks, "and how is your... friend?" lee actually smiles. it takes two months for ruth to call you her girlfriend, and when she does, lee practically beams.

sometime in the future, lee does discover how much her mom did come to question her faith while still using it as a shield. but, ruth says, it was meant to protect them from others, not from each other

things go long-distance when lee attends the academy in virginia, and when she sees you and ruth in the crowd during her ceremony, she wells up

you guys do, in fact, move into a cottage together (one that lee ensures has lots of windows), and you keep the small christmas tree from the apartment up there year-long

out of habit, you guys still page, then eventually, text, each other your first apartment's number to signal you've arrived home

after some coaxing, you convince lee to adopt two kittens with you, who she grows immensely attached to (one light brown one that's always jumping on her and playfully scratching her awake, and a grey one, solitary and quiet, who silently sits on her desk while she works)

lee, one day, wraps her arms around from behind as you make coffee and mumbles, "thanks for moving in with me." you laugh at first, but the noise fades when she adds, "the apartment, I mean," which incites a wave of gratitude to roll through you, the two of you meeting for a soft kiss. she has no idea how glad you are of it, too

you guys continue to be curious about each other

regarding lee and ruth's backstory: i didn't really want to include the supernatural elements of Longlegs in this story, so instead, i leaned into the theories and maika's alluding of the film being a metaphor about trauma. so, just like in the film, a stranger visited ruth and lee's home the day before lee's ninth birthday, and the trauma of that day is what led to the changes in ruth, such as her hoarding habit. what exactly occurred on this day is vague and up to interpretation -- both because of the film's vagueness in what the harkers' trauma is meant to be if the film really is a metaphor, as well as lee's lack of memories for for that day. it's up to you to decide whether it was kobble or visited them, or someone else. and lee does not remember the night both due to ruth's secrecy and her own suppressed memories, which is meant to tie into the elements of suppression and family secrets within the harkers' story in the film.

A/N: so, that is it for does it happen in a season? 😭 now, that it's done, I'd absolutely love to hear what you all thought of the final product, whether it be in the comments or through an ask. I always adore hearing what you guys think about this story, whether it be about a specific chap or the work in general, so I'd truly appreciate any thoughts now that's done, and would be so incredibly touched to hear about what it meant to anyone and everyone who read it :") i worked really hard on it, and hearing your guys' thoughts would feel like such a gift (it can be as long as you want I'm truly open to anything and want to know soooo bad) <33

she sets the food down on the coffee table. “you know, grabbing the remote first doesn’t make it your turn.” 

“I know,” you respond haughtily. “what makes it my turn is that the last movie was a tape you picked out.”

“yes, but then, you had us watch an episode of a show that you like two days later.”

you roll your eyes. how did she even manage to remember the exact date that was? “yes, but that’s a show. it’s only half an hour long!”

“yeah, but doesn’t it make sense to determine who chose what we watched last based on the actual act of choosing – not runtime?”

you bristle at her pristine logic. “fine, I chose last. but, it doesn’t count – it was a half hour show!”

lee’s lips creep up. you can tell she’s enjoying the little argument, and you’d be inclined to tease her for it if it weren’t a deeply hypocritical thing to do. “but, again, our turns are based on choice. not runtime.”

your bottom lip juts out, staring longingly at the tapes on your coffee table. “c’mon, please.”

she sighs at you, lips pressing in together. after a moment, she gets up, picking up the tape of Age of Innocence.

you clap your hands excitedly, cheeks aching with how hard you beam. “you are my favourite girlfriend, you know that?”

“mm, yeah.” she pops the tape in, eyebrows drawn in slightly. “I remember last night.”

your shoulders twist at the shiver that creeps up your body, mind flashing with the mental images of lee between your legs, and the taste of her on your tongue, the latter of which has already faded, leaving you with a craving for more.

when you say nothing, lee turns to you wordlessly, the corner of her lip just barely tucked upwards. “what’s wrong?”

“I never said anything was wrong,” you shoot back, sinking further into the couch, praying you look casual. 

apparently not, for lee’s grin widens as she stands up, grabbing the remote and pointing it to the television to switch it on. “well, you know, you just got a bit quiet.”

“says the queen of the monosyllabic response.”

she seats herself on the couch, the bottom edge of her boxer shorts rising up her thighs. the sight makes you want to both lay your head on her thigh or get in her lap and continue off from last night. 

your thoughts snap when she turns to you. “I’m using more than one syllable now.”

“ah, a changed woman indeed.”

“so, what was the matter? when you weren’t talking.”

you roll your eyes, which is, frankly, partially an excuse to avoid eye contact. she really wants to know, doesn’t she? it feels silly, to be this shy after how wantonly you behaved the night before. but, the sobering light of morning does wonders for your self-consciousness. “I don’t know. I just got… shy thinking of last night.”

“yeah?” her fingers skim over where your hand rests, tracing over the veins on the back of it. her voice is lightened with something – teasing and what seems to be a bit of hope.

“yeah.” you glance down at your hands. “are you trying to seduce me?”

she slides hers away with a smile. “no.” 

you can’t help the wide grin that splits over your face as the film starts. as you watch Countess Olenska approaching Newland with her soft smirk and red dress, weaving her way through the crowd, you feel like you can sink into this couch, toast half eaten on your place, for years. 

there’s something newly intimate about watching a romance film with lee. sure, it felt intimate when you guys first did it back in winter. but to do it now, as an actual couple, feels personal. those are two people in love on the screen, and you and lee are also two people in love, and finally, both of you know it. 

you flinch at the thought. in love? okay, yeah, you need to get a reign in on your feelings. you don’t even know for sure if you’re there yet, and even if you are, a singular day into dating feels a bit too soon to be making any love confessions. but, even so, it isn’t really that soon, is it? it’s been ten months in the making. friendship surely can’t be that much of a preventative measure in arousing and moving forward the process of falling in love.

you’re yanked from your thoughts when lee reaches over to grab for your plate, stacking it on hers then walking over to the sink silently.

“oh, lee,” you start, hitting the pause button, “you don’t have to–”

“it’s okay,” she quietly replies, eyes lowered as she slips on the yellow gloves and gets to work. “just keep it on pause.”

“oh?” you drawl, standing to your feet and sauntering to her. “does that mean it’s fair to imply you actually like Age of Innocence?”

she shrugs. “I haven’t seen enough of it to determine that. but, um, I want to watch it for you.”

you stop behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your face against her shoulder, which is bare from her tank top. you can hear the hesitation in her voice from saying something so affectionate, and you squeeze gently. “you’re sweet.”

she hums, continuing her task. you can feel her stomach’s muscles tightening and tensing, before a long breath is drawn from her that sends her body softening. you kiss her shoulder, and laugh when a cup goes clattering against the side of the sink.

“shut up,” she mutters, her previous confidence swept back into her usual reservations. it’s sweet how she can switch like this. it makes you wonder if her confidence is rooted in your own timid bashfulness – if it gives her a boost, knowing her effect on you. after all, you’ve certainly experienced that vice versa.

when she’s finished, you, very reluctantly, let go of her and circle the counter, sitting at the other side of it, as she so often does when studying. you don’t know why she does – the stool isn’t particularly comfortable, and the surface of the counter is cool to the touch (and therefore, probably freezing during winter). plus, her desk is but a few paces away. 

when you inquire as such, her eyes curiously raise to yours as she grabs a a knife and an orange from the pantry. carefully placing the fruit on the freshly washed cutting board, she says, “I read that it helps with focus to change the locations where you study during a session.”

“really? it doesn’t distract you at all?” it makes sense in light of lee’s habits – she’s never been one to consistently study at her desk, moving from there to the counter to the library. 

she cuts the orange into neat slices. “no. sometimes, it helps because I don’t get too comfortable in one spot.”

“that makes sense.” it’s also very studious of her, as well as dilligent. you can’t help but admire her. 

after moving the slices to a plate, she slides them over to the center of the counter. you smile at the silent gesture, feeling something in you swell at how quietly she cares. it’s almost like she doesn’t want to be noticed or recognized for the things she does for other people. like she’s content to offer these pieces of kindness so long as the receiver of them gets to reap their benefits. there’s nothing in it, at least intentionally, for her. 

✩

your eyes, fondly resting on her, trail down. her thumbs pinch into the ends of the slice, bending it down so that the pieces of it spread and widen into small triangles. you don’t know why, but the soft strength she uses in the gesture makes you shift in your seat. especially with how the veins protrude along the back of her hands, like winding rivers just begging to be drunk. she lifts the fruit to her mouth and her soft lips hug and tighten around a piece, slowly sucking and drawing it in. a wet, squelching noise rasps out, tiny squeaks produced from the moisture of the slice as she presses her lips in harder, fluidly moving them in and out, like some sort of a dance. the juice of it leaks from the corner of her lips, and you can see the pads of her finger shine with the stickiness of it. you breathe heavily, mouth feeling impossibly dry when faced with the idea of taking those fingers in your mouth and sucking them clean of the sour liquid. 

you practically gasp when, after her mouth takes some twists and turns, jaw tightening and tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, she suddenly spits a seed into her palm. as she turns her hand into the plate, dropping it, you feel your thighs tighten on instinct. the gesture is so dirty, so primal, done on pure instinct by her. it causes your mind to flood with the sticky, sweet memories of how she spat down on your folds the night before, not a moment of hesitation holding her back, riding off the pure desire to get you even wetter and ready for her mouth. did she like how shiny you looked with her saliva? did she like watching you drip with both arousal and something belonging to her? did she want to mark you up? each possibility carries a heated appeal to it.

she was so passionate and tender last night, but those moments of dominance are also seared into your brain. when she’d tease you, take her time with you, taunt you and seem to take pleasure in your shock and helplessness to her words. you don’t know if that’s all the roughness she has to offer, or if there’s more she’s holding back on, but you want to. especially when this little unintentional display of hers has the mental image of her spitting replaying without cease in your mind. you need to do something regarding sex right now. jumping her bones, talking about it, you don’t care – just anything that’ll sate some of this desire and curiosity in you.

“lee?”

she looks up, her sharp gaze making you feel reborn, revived to the very bone. “mm?” 

“I can’t remember if you answered clearly, since I passed out and all, but do you remember me asking about, um, you know, kink?”

she freezes, eyes pierced on the surface of the counter. “yes.” 

you can immediately sense the discomfort aroused by the question and slowly reach your hand over to hers. “it’s okay, alright? I just thought we could talk about it, see if we’re on board for certain things.”

“okay.” her voice is tentative.

you click your tongue in your mouth, an awkward pause hanging between you two. “okay, um…”

“I’ll go first,” she quietly offers. when you blink back in surprise, she mutters, “you always take these steps first. I want to do that for you too.”

you swallow hard, nearly driven to emotions by the words. “I… okay.”

“I, um…” she braces her palms on the counter, head ducked down. “I enjoy, um… I don’t know, power play, I guess.”

“mm,” you hum, abdomen stirring at the confession. “I thought as much.”

her eyes dart up to you. “wha– how?”

you shrug, propping your chin on your fist. “well, you just had moments of it last night.”

she sighs, nostrils flaring. “sorry. I didn’t mean to do it without asking. it just happened.”

“it’s okay. I liked it,” you mumble, mouth breaking into a smile from the nerves sparked in your body.

“you did?”

you nod. now it’s your turn to avoid her gaze, yours pinpointed on the plate of fruit. “I like power play too.”

“that’s, um– okay.”

after another quiet moment lapses, you force yourself to ask, “what else do you like?”

her fingertips skitter along the surface of the counter, jaw clenched and lips pinched in concentration and deep thought. “well, I sometimes enjoy, um, talking explicitly. as well as touch that’s a bit, well, harder.”

despite your own shyness, you break into a fit of giggles at her vague alluding. “so, dirty talk and spanking, basically?”

the corner of her mouth twitches, blinking rapidly as she keeps her gaze downcast. “pretty much.”

you press your thighs together. fuck. images flash through your mind of lee bending you over her lap, those large hands delivering swift smacks to your ass. you can picture the way your skin would burn under her sharp touches, pussy leaking and aching until she finally plugs you with two fingers. or maybe even her strap.

the last of those thoughts jolt you out of your perverted daydreams, and you realize you ought to confess the sighting of her toy. you wouldn’t want to undergo the ruse and lie of pretending you know nothing about it, especially when, or if, she reveals it to you. “I also have a small thing to admit.”

her eyes slowly rise to you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. god, you want to kiss the crease in her forehead. “what is it?”

“I’ve, well…” you suddenly laugh, anxiety flipping in your stomach like a pancake. what if she gets mad? what if she doesn’t believe you and she thinks you were snooping? it seems too late to backtrack convincingly, though, so you push yourself on. “I’ve seen your toy. and harness.”

her head visibly flinches, reeling back in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. “how?” 

“I wasn’t snooping!” you nearly cry out, hands raised in defense. “I accidentally opened your drawer because I was rushing to get your clothes. you know, on that day where it was raining and we both got wet – um, yeah, wet.” you nearly choke on your words, and internally curse. “it was an accident, I promise, I–”

“I know,” she cuts in softly. “don’t worry. I know it was an accident.” despite the pink dust on her cheek, she watches you earnestly, gaze intense.

your words melt into a shaky sigh. “I…”

she leans over the counter, and you make a muffled noise of surprise when her lips land on yours. the kiss is tender and smooth, as though your lips are a fragile work of glass, moments away from shattering. when she parts from you, she whispers, “I know, okay? I know you.”

you gulp at the words. maybe you will shatter any moment now, for the weight of being known with such certainty bears down on you heavily. “thank you.”

her forehead leans on yours. “you don’t have to thank me.”

she leans back to her side of the counter, and your skin immediately crawls with the sheer want for her to be back on you, close again. “so…” 

“did it make you uncomfortable?” 

you immediately understand the meaning of her question. she means to ask if you judge her, or think her immoral, for possessing such a toy. if you think she’s less of a feminist, less of a lesbian. “no, I don’t.” for the sake of both honesty and extra assurance, you add, “I’d like to try it.”

a small noise bursts from the back of her throat, and you force your mouth to remain stiff. “are you sure?”

“yeah. only if you want to, you know – I get it might be for, you know…” you pause, face burning. “personal use.”

“it is, sometimes,” she mutters, voice so low you could’ve easily lost it if not for the silence of the room. “but, I, um…” her fingers roll into a tight fist on the counter. “have used it on others. and have had it used on myself.”

you chew on your lip, a spark of irritation flickering in you. “hm. I see.”

she eyes you warily. “what are you thinking?”

you sigh, knowing if you don’t tell her, she probably won’t be able to piece together your quiet, petty signals on her own. “I’m jealous, okay?”

her lips press together, faintly raising at the corners, those lovely laugh lines deepening in her cheeks. “last night and now this. have you always been this possessive?”

you bristle, rolling your eyes at the dig. “no.” 

“no?” she reaches over, fingertips skimming along your jaw. “so, our relationship just brings it out in you?”

you scoff at the slightly cocky undertone of her voice. “no.” 

she rubs a piece of hair between her thumb and index finger. when you look up, you nearly whimper at the sight of her dark eyes resting on you intently. “also, to answer your question from before, I do want to use it with you.” hesitation makes her voice slightly waver, but for the most part, she manages to speak the blunt sentiment steadily. the surety of it makes you nearly squirm. she really does want you, doesn’t she?

you clear your throat, still trying to maintain your composure. it’s easier said than done, considering your mind is racing with thoughts of lee burying her strap in you, pumping in the thick length of it inside and spreading your hole loose and open. you nearly whine without realizing it. “okay. good.”

she slowly stalks over to your side of the counter. “why exactly is it good?” 

“lee, I swear to God, I– ah.” your words crumble into a moan when she leans down, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses down your neck. 

“mm, don’t be blasphemous,” she mumbles, her words deep with a gentle, playful scolding.

with the amount of words she has you spewing for the rest of the morning, blasphemy is the last thing on your mind. all you can do is lose yourself to her mouth and touch, letting yourself spin in a whirlwind of pleasure until you’re tired and worn.

✩

–

lee walks out of the exam room and feels like she’s floating – the heavy weight of it being her final exam is lifted from her shoulders, and she feels far from reality at knowing she is officially, truly done with her semester. her last semester. she swallows hard, an onslaught of anxiety thrusted at her as she processes that piece of information. she sucks in deep, even breaths. it’ll be okay. she has time to digest all of this, and let herself truly process it, before job-searching.

a job. soon, she’ll no longer be working in the library, with its repetitive structure so ingrained in her head that she can do it half-asleep. she’ll have to get an actual job. one in law enforcement, one that encapsulates all she’s been working towards. it’s an exciting thought, one that sends a surge of energy through her. but, it’s also one that makes her crack a bit, too. just a bit. this life, this routine, the dream she’s devoted four years of her life to – it’s all slipping between her fingertips and all she can do is continue stepping away from it and watch it fade away. she remembers your words. an abyss.

she barely knows what she’ll even do in these next few weeks. and something about that feels unsettling, like she’s hanging off a thread that’s about to snap. she likes having her plans set and in motion, written on her calendar and followed through without falter. but, right now, her vague plans only consist of: fix up her resume, look for work, continue working at the library until she finds something sufficient, and go to the pride march with you. 

she’s aware of how out of place the last of those is, having only agreed to it because you had asked her so tenderly to go, eyes wide and imploring. both of you had never gone to a pride march before, your university’s city holding only its second one this year. it definitely isn’t her thing, and she only felt just-barely-comfortable with the idea because you promised to stay on the edge of the crowd with her. but, the truth is, as soon as the question had left your mouth, her answer was yes. she’d probably go anywhere, so long as you were there.

but, after the march, how the rest of her weeks will look is a blur, nothing marked by the timelines that usually stabilize her. and that’s something she doesn’t like.

it’s not like this reaction is surprising. she knows herself well enough to have anticipated the anxiety that’d be triggered from having her routine and structure taken from her. 

what she didn’t expect, however, is the sadness. a deep ache weighs down on her stomach. she’s relieved, but as she walks down the halls, she just wants to transport back to some time months before. when things were secure, and had a sameness to it that was reliable and comfortable. now, she’s faced with what feels like thousands of new paths to go down on. she only has one she’s interested in, but it feels like even that branches off in so many different directions regarding how she’ll approach getting her first real job. not to mention what to do about her home – it’s only a matter of time until you and her are faced with the choice of extending the lease or leaving. how will you two handle it?

so much for that bout of relief. she sighs, tugging the door to her class’s building open, freezing two steps down when she catches sight of you. 

you’re beaming, eyes crinkled, fingers wrapped around a small bouquet of flowers. her eyes scan your face down to the yellow petals, feeling her breath hitch. are they for her? it feels presumptuous to ask, despite the burning, embarrassing want for the gift to be hers. 

she finishes walking down the steps, slowly approaching you, eyes flicking to the flowers. “what’s going on?”

your arm jolts out, thrusting the flowers at her. on instinct, she catches it, her pinky brushing against your finger. she doesn’t speak on the twitch she feels in your hand, but silently takes pleasure in it. 

“they’re for you.”

her lips part in surprise. she can’t remember the last time someone got her flowers. in fact, she doesn’t think she’s ever gotten flowers before. a tender sort of gratitude spills into her, dripping and dripping until she’s filled to the brim with a shy pleasure. is this what it feels like to get spoiled?

she grips onto the flowers tightly, feeling irrationally attached to and protective over them.  “what for?”

“a congratulations gift for being done.” with a soft smile, you rise on your toes, kissing her cheek. 

lee’s eyes dart around your surroundings. she’s not used to such unbridled public affection. just like the day of the fire hydrant, she doesn’t know what to think, what to do. she wants to return these touches, but she’s not accustomed to it, and when she’s on the edge of doing so, she can’t help but feel fear and self-consciousness spring upon her. both for herself and the people surrounding you two.

you don’t seem to notice her alarm, pulling back and hooking your arm through hers. “come on.”

she tries to shake off her thoughts. just for a few hours, she wants to forget and toss away all the fears and anxieties, and just enjoy the afternoon with you. she smells the flowers, trying to point all her senses to the sweet scent. the last thing she wants is to have another attack in front of you, or ruin your gift. 

she tenses as you two weave through the crowd filling the street in front of campus. today is the last day of exams, and as per usual, that comes with blaring music, live entertainment and stalls of homemade gifts and trinkets. her eyes drift over them as you tug her through. she’d like to get you something. maybe she should return tomorrow.

someone slams into her with a hard thump. well, only if she has it in her to.

as you two walk past a stall that is identified from an upright chalkboard with twisting letters reading out, “Psychic,” you pull gently on her arm, nodding to it. she glances at it, then raises an eyebrow to you, unsure of what your meaning is. 

“do you believe in them?” you ask.

she hesitates, carefully pondering over her answer. she’s not someone who would depend on a psychic so much so that she’d visit them consistently – she can’t see herself doing that with any spiritual practice. and she wouldn’t place enough faith in what a psychic says to the point of re-adjusting her life because of their words. but, there’s a little part of her brain, maybe a remnant of her upbringing, that’s always tickling with the possibility of something existing beyond the scope of real life. something supernatural, spiritual, or otherworldly. it lingers at the back of her head, and comes out of the shadows when she’s faced with something and left with no evidence to explain it away. then, it itches at her – the curiosity of something more, something even she can’t grasp. it’s probably another reason why she wouldn’t go to a psychic. she’s too afraid of the possibility of it all being true. so, she must believe in it at least a little.

“I guess I do – a little bit. I usually rationalize it, but I think part of me does.”

“I see. so, if you’re all for rationalizing, I’m guessing you’re not religious?”

she ducks her head down, eyes following her feet. the question, simple as it is, shouldn’t cause tension to roll down her spine. but, it does. all of it flashes through her. the years of devout worship and strict regime, the pressure she put on herself to appear perfect, be perfect. the way her mom added to it, bit by bit, like a recipe of destruction, letting her paranoia manifest in constant questioning and warning. the way those teachings, both within her household and small town, had casted her into years of deep shame and hiding.

“not anymore.”

“but, you were once?”

she nods. “yeah.” from your inquiring gaze, she can tell you want more. if she wholly didn’t want to give it, she wouldn’t. but, part of her does. she wants to share this pain with you, have you maybe help her carry some of it. she had already managed for so long on her own. not about everything, but at least this. “well, my mom was pretty religious, so she raised me as such. but, the older I got, the more I started feeling stifled by it. that was the first thing that drove me away.” she glances at you, feeling almost guilty to admit her stray from faith. “when I realized I was a lesbian, and started seeing how the people in the church and town treated gay people, I only felt more isolated. then, I did research. and in addition to feeling less inclined for organized religion, I started questioning its foundations.”

she hates that she still feels a sense of shame washing over her at the admission. her eyes tentatively raise to you. a part of her mind, a part she knows is irrational, wonders if you’re judging her. 

but, then you squeeze her hand. and in a voice so soft she nearly loses it in the crowd’s mumblings, you say, “that must’ve been hard, yeah? I’m proud of you for not brushing your doubt or discomfort away. for letting yourself question things so that you can eventually feel comfortable.”

she clears her throat. she never thought it was an experience to take pride in. “why are you proud?”

you squeeze her arm. “because it might’ve been easier to just set aside your doubts and discomfort. and, you know, pretend to be religious for the sake of peace. but, instead, you chose to question things, and research them, and take your discomfort seriously enough to not force yourself to believe in it.”

lee supposes she understands that. it probably would’ve been easier to have just let her doubts remain in the sidelines, and avoid them in her thoughts. instead, she had lingered on it, confronted it, and sought other resources. 

there is one thing wrong with your words, though. she does pretend. 

“when, um, my mom asks me if I’m saying my prayers, I lie. I tell her I do.”

“why?” 

she sighs. “we’re already… less close than when I was a child. revealing how far gone I am from religion might make things worse.” she doesn’t want that. the thought terrifies her. because distant and strained as she is from her mom, she doesn’t want to become even more removed from her life. she doesn’t want to widen the bridge between them. or disappoint her.

“I understand that. it makes sense, she’s your mom. and you guys still have some closeness there. you don’t want to just, you know, lose that.”

you’re right. she doesn’t. 

“I noticed you have a bible in your room. what is it there for? if you’re not religious.”

she starts in surprise. once again, just as you’ve been doing so since autumn, you’ve caught her off guard with your observations. she finds herself slightly impressed. “it’s one I had at my house back in oregon. it would’ve looked odd to have not brought it when I moved out.” she pauses, mouth twisting at what she’s about to say. it feels stupid, and it’s something she’d usually keep hidden. but, no secrets. that’s what she had asked for from you. “and sometimes, I read it. I don’t know why. there’s just, I don’t know, a familiarity to it.”

“because of your mom?”

she tightly nods. “and my childhood.” it’s nonsensical, really. she spent so long wanting out of that life and hoping to escape it. now, she has, and still, there exists an invisible string connecting her to it. sometimes, it tightens and pains, and she lets herself give way to nostalgia. even if she knows her longing doesn’t account for even half of the discomfort of actually being back there.

“I understand.”

you always do. and lee feels an indescribable amount of gratitude. but, telling you this much has already taken a toll, and she’s not ready for more. and so, she glances back to where the psychic’s stall was, asking, “and you? do you believe in them?”

“it’s hard to say. in my psych class, we were taught about tacts used in that kind of stuff that can make a reading feel more believable. but, at the same time, I’ve heard people recall times where their reading included some really specific stuff that actually happened.”

she’s heard both kinds of accounts, as well. it only adds to her confusion about the whole thing, which seems similar to your own stance. her eyes scan you. you had seemed so curious about the stall.

“do you want to go back to it?”

“no, no, I’m too hungry. you?” 

she shrugs. “no, I’m not really interested.”

“awe, c’mon, she might’ve had something interesting to say.” you lean close, pressing your chest into her arm, and she sucks in a tiny breath at the contact. “maybe that your roommate is an amazing girlfriend who you should spend the rest of your life with.”

“I don’t need a psychic to know that.” the words escape her mouth before she can even process them. she blinks hard. jesus, if she needed a reason to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the day, this is it. she angles her head away from you, looking down, for her fear outweighs her curiosity.

“wow, you like me,” you drawl out, words thick with the tease.

she sighs, rolling her eyes. she does, desperately so, but she doesn’t need to satisfy you even more than you already are.

“where are we going?” she asks as you two turn the corner, out of the crowd and along a sidewalk. without saying anything, she slips her arm from your grasp before placing it on your back, guiding you to the inner side of the pavement.

you falter in your words, and she bites back a grin at the sight of your eyes skittering between the two of you, your body shifting slightly under her palm. she’s not accustomed to having this effect on someone after years of singlehood – and if she had possessed it during those years, she hadn’t noticed. regardless, she knows you well enough to know what some of your little physical reactions mean. and to know she’s making you shy or thrown off course, even momentarily, makes her more smug than she’d ever admit.

you clear your throat. “um… well, I uh–”

she tilts her head at you, feeling amusement rise in her. “yes?” 

“I got us a reservation at this restaurant.” before she can respond, you smile and say, “don’t worry, I checked and it’s not a crowded one.”

her shoulders loosen at your words, gratitude rolling through her. how nice it is to have someone know her so well, so well that prompting is unnecessary before doing something like that.

“thanks,” she mutters. she doesn’t want the gesture gone unnoticed – both for the sake of wanting you to know she appreciates these things, but also because part of her is so unaccustomed to receiving them that she wants to do anything she can to make it last. she knows you wouldn’t stop giving this, she knows it, but a part of her itches in fear that if she doesn’t proceed correctly, you’ll stop helping her in these quiet ways.

“of course, babe.”

she jerks a bit at the term. the automatic reaction sends a wave of embarrassment through her. she feels like an awkward child, bashful and disjointed from your smooth, effortless words of endearment. you notice the little movement too, eyes scanning her body.

you don’t mention it until you two are in the outdoor seating area of the restaurant. you were right – it’s not overcrowded, and is small and quaint, flowers lining along the gate separating the tables from the street. as her eyes rove along curiously, exploring the architecture of the building, you speak.

“are you okay with them? the nicknames?”

she uses the bouquet as an excuse to not look at you, carefully setting them on her lap. the truth is, she’s more than okay with them. to be called something that only belongs to the two of you carries an intimacy she more than welcomes. the only thing that acts as a barrier is how foreign it is, how unaccustomed she is to someone other than her mom using those soft words with her. as well as how she isn’t used to seeing herself as, let alone being, the receiver of affection. it’s not something she let herself think of much through the course of her life, nor something she ever felt would be easy for a person to give her. but, you do it as naturally as breathing. it’s frightening at times.

“I am. I’m just not used to it. and I,” she adds lowly, bracing herself for the vulnerability of the next words, “I don’t really – I mean, I’m not used to thinking of myself as someone who people can be affectionate with.”

“why?” 

lee’s mouth twists at how gently you ask it. “I don’t know. I’m not used to receiving it.”

“but, amaya and maria…”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve had them these past four years. but, for most of my life…” she shrugs, eyes cast down from the humiliation coiling in her. “I’ve either isolated myself, or had no choice in the matter. it might not make sense, but I feel like I’m still used to it being that way.”

you blink slowly at her, and she tries to not let her gaze linger on you and your bright eyes, your hair, the slope of your nose, or the tiny blackheads scattered around it. your eyebrows are relaxed, lips pursed – you don’t look like you’re judging her. rather, just perceiving her. maybe with thoughtfulness, with sympathy, she isn’t sure.

“remember when you told me, a few weeks back, that we, I don’t know, regress to our child selves with parents?”

her eyebrows scrunch, perplexed at the change of topic. “yeah.” 

“well, I feel like we do that kind of stuff with a lot of our relationships. like, how we were treated in our core, developmental years kind of frames our sense of worth sometimes, and we sort of just… linger in it.”

she nods, slightly feeling like she’s being psychologically assessed. 

“but, that’s okay, you know? it happens, and it makes sense to still carry it with you. and, you know, it also doesn’t make it true. you are loveable, lee.”

she nearly winces at such a tender sentiment, feeling her jaw ache with how hard it tightens. a jerk racks her body when she feels the back of your fingers brush her knuckles.

“anyone who has rejected or isolated you had no idea what they were missing out on. you’re really easy to… um, care for. trust me, it’s one of the easiest things I know.”

part of her wants you to stop. it’s too much, all the praise and compliments. she didn’t mean for the conversation to go this way, to land her in even more of a vulnerable position. it was one thing to confess her insecurities, but being comforted feels like a whole other ordeal. confessing is at least active, and in her control in some kind of way, whereas receiving your words of adoration renders her passive, an open cup to be filled and filled with your praise, at nothing but your will. 

you make it sound like caring for her and showing this affection is so easy. and it probably is to you. a conclusion she arrives at not because she thinks she’s easy to love. but, because you conduct the ordeal of it with such a lack of hestiation. at least, that’s how it appears to her. maybe it’s a lot harder for you than she realizes. maybe it’s just the feelings of care that are easy for you, but the action takes a lot of work. as much work as it takes for her.

with that thought in mind, she forces her eyes to move up to your face. her fingers uncurl from their fist, and she lightly traces your fingers with hers. “um, thanks. for everything.”

your thumb rubs along a nail on her finger, neatly trimmed from when she cut it last night. “of course.” 

“it’s not…” she pauses, rolling the words in her mind before speaking. “easy for me. to do these sort of things.”

“really? you’ve been so touchy, though.”

she clears her throat. “yes. but, I mean, well, verbally. I’m trying, but, it’s hard for me.”

“it’s unfamiliar?” 

“mm,” she hums. “it’s just been a while. and it’s always been hard to… make that transition. from not doing it to getting used to it.”

“I mean, are you forcing yourself to? does it not feel natural?”

she doesn’t exactly know what “natural” means in this context. the feelings come to her without persuasion or calling for it. but, the execution is intentional. “I do want it. I want to say those things. but, then, I’ll start thinking hard about it and I won't do it.”

“hm.” you cross your arms on the table, and her mouth twitches at your pondering. “well, maybe it’ll just take practice. like, the first few times will feel foreign, but you’ll adjust.”

she tries to think of something other than how attractive your problem-solving is. “probably.” 

“did you use them with your other girlfriends?”

she hesitates, hoping she doesn’t make you jealous with her next words. “not with my first. but, with the one from my first year, yeah.” she picks at the napkin on the table. “it was an adjustment then, too.”

you nod slowly, eyes downcast. she shifts in her seat, feeling a twinge of worry at your silence. but, she lets it linger – it’s not uncomfortable, per say. it never really is with you.

“was it about consciously doing it first and just letting it become natural?”

“yeah, pretty much.” 

“okay, then, I guess we’ll just do that, right?”

it’s the sensical choice, she knows, but still she feels a flicker of disappointment for herself. “I know. I just wish it would come easier to me.” her jaw flexes. “I wanna be where you are.”

“you are.” you twine your fingers together, and her wrist goes slack under your touch. “struggling with this doesn’t mean you aren’t. it just takes… practice. then, I’m sure it’ll get easier.”

“yeah. I know.” she sighs softly, eyes lingering on the yellow petals of the flowers.

“‘I know’...?”

her eyebrows draw in together, confusion rumbling through. “what?” 

“isn’t there a word you’re missing?” you drawl out, tone so husky she’d almost mistaken it as flirtatious. actually, maybe you are being flirtatious. “one right at the end? one pretty romantic?”

her mouth twitches. how did she manage to see you as a friend for so long, when you’re this endearing, this cute? “are you fishing for affection right now?”

“okay, well, ‘fishing’ is quite a negative term to use for your girlfriend.” you roll your eyes. “this is me, from the good of my heart, helping you use terms of endearment.”

she scoffs. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re welcome. now, c’mon, I’m waiting.” 

lee sighs, pursing her lips together. the first time she was gonna say it would’ve been cringe-inducing no matter what, so maybe it’s better that you’re anticipating it and can brace yourself. it probably would wound her ego less to say it when you’re expecting it and less likely to be caught off guard and unable to mask a wince at her delivery. though, she supposes it’d be good to know if you are internally cringing. then, she can know how to adjust her tone next time.

she lifts your locked fingers to her face. “okay, um… baby.” she pushes her face against the back of your intertwined hands, your nails gliding along her forehead as she hides away. she’s aware, painfully so, of how pathetic she must look right now, but the word tastes foreign and she’s convinced she’s doing it all wrong, and maintaining eye contact is too much.

but, then she looks up. and your face looks like it’s milliseconds away from shattering with how wide your grin is.

she gulps. “was that, um, okay?”

“‘okay’ feels like too meek a word to cover it.”

she hums deeper into your skin, pressing a quick kiss before she can even take a moment to remember where the two of you are. 

–

“c’mon, just answer it,” you whine, gently kicking a foot to lee’s behind, which, as much as she covers it, is pretty nice and firm.

the movement has her head bumping lightly against the rim of the drying machine. “okay, don’t do that right now.”

you giggle, totally absolved of any guilt. “sorry.” 

she continues peeling the clothes from the hollow machine, dropping them into the basket. your eyes linger on it, something whirring in your chest at the sight of your underwear mixed with hers. how intimate it is, to have the dried fluids and stains on both your clothes mixing and flowing in the same stream of water as the soap cleans it out. 

when she’s done, she looks up at you from where she’s crouched down while you sit perched on the machine opposite to her. “fine. if I had to, I’d rather fight the ogre.”

“but, it has blades for fingers!”

she sighs. “yes. but, the cricket is less noticeable and faster, therefore less easy to detect and anticipate. at least you can maintain some long-range attacks with the ogre.”

“wow, someone did their homework.”

she picks up the basket, standing up, and you try not to think with your pussy. which is hard, considering how as she grips it, the faint outlines of her muscles flex, and the veins on the back of her hand stick out. and all the while, that white tank top deliciously clings to her body from the weather. it’s an impossibly irritating day with all the suffocating heat and sticky sweat. but, with lee’s body, for once, barely hidden in shape, her peachy skin glistening like washed fruit, it’s all worth it. you try to focus as she shoots you a blank, but marginally incredulous, look. “it’s just common sense.”

you hop off the machine. “I see – well, now, you’ll make a great fbi agent.”

“or a very scared one. something tells me these hypotheticals won’t accurately measure up to the reality of the job.”

you chuckle as she braces her back against the door, still managing to get it open for you despite her arms being full. “thanks. and, well, you know, that’s the duality of man. you can be both a scared agent and a really badass one.”

the afternoon is searing with moist heat, the thick humidity fanning your face, and the pavement golden with the afternoon sun. as you watch lee carry the basket, something in you softens. you love the life you two have shared this past year. and with an evident lack of post-graduation plans on your end, it’s tempting to just remain here, and continue working at the grocery store, so that you can take time to ponder over your future. not the most secure plan, you know, but it’s the only one that doesn’t send you tossing and turning into an ocean of panic at the prospect of. 

but, what if lee wants to leave? she knows what she wants to do, the path she wants to tread upon. now that you two have graduated, she may want to try something different, and be situated elsewhere. but, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. it would be a huge move for someone who is already unsure about the rest of their life.

it’d be different if it were a year or two from now, when lee goes to virginia. hopefully, by then, you’d have more of your goals aligned, as well as a firm idea as to what it is you want in a career. but, to move now, when you’re still floating, barely tied town, tossing and turning over what you want – it feels like too much change. even if you do badly want to remain with her, and practically ache to your fingertips with the sheer intensity of that wish.

that is, if lee even wants you to come with her if she decides to leave. you know how solitary she is, for it shows even in your current living conditions. you sigh at the thought. you don’t mind it, how she enjoys her time alone, but what if it’s a sign that she’d prefer to live by herself once the lease is up? what if she decides to leave? the notion leaves you with a sting to your chest. you know if she decided to leave, it wouldn’t be personal, but rather just a testament to her preferences. but, it causes a wave of anxiety to roll into your stomach. if she decides she’d rather live alone, even if she stays in this city, is it a sign you guys will never live together again? what will happen years from now, if you guys reach an age where it becomes more reasonable to live together? will she only do it under obligation, but never really want it? what if she doesn’t really want it now, and just reconciles with it? 

besides, god, you’d miss her. you’d miss her so much. even if you two end up living apart because you want to stay here and she wants to leave, even if the space was just temporary, you’d be devastated.

“I’m not so sure those co-exist with ease.”

your eyes shoot back to her, trying to anchor yourself back into the conversation. the two of you can talk about all the living stuff later, maybe when the lease is up and you’re forced to. for now, you want to enjoy this while it still lasts.

and so, you reign yourself back in and bump her shoulder. “well, then, you’ll be the exception.”

the corner of her lip curls up. “you’re that confident?”

“I am.” you ensure the words are said earnestly, paired with a direct gaze to her. because it’s true. with lee’s natural tendency for what’s right, as well as her chivalry, gentleness and efforts to help, you’re more than sure of her capability. not to mention how sharp she is – she’s beaten your ass at more card games than you can count. 

eyes downcast, she nods. “thank you.”

“of course.”

back at home, the laundry long forgotten next to the shoe rack, you and lee share a joint, the scent of the weed quickly swarming through the apartment. after a few hits, the world seems to soften, your awareness tinged with a lovely sort of drowsiness. lee seems to be affected by it, too, her smiles a bit easier and the usual stiffness she sits with melted into a relaxed sag against the couch’s cushions. 

her thigh touches yours, and your skin burns from the sensation.

“you know, maybe we should put summer decorations on it,” you muse, tilting your head in the direction of the christmas tree.

lee doesn’t even turn to what you’re gesturing to, yet still manages an, “I don’t know why we still have it up.” you wonder how she does that.

“it’s festive.”

“it’s summer.”

“and?” 

“do I need to explain the connotations of that?”

you roll your eyes, suddenly tingling with the urge to laugh. “no. but, you should explain why we need to follow such arbitrary rules.”

“‘arbitrary’?” joint dangling from between her fingers, she slowly lifts it to her lips, and just like that night in fall, you feel practically needy at the sight. even her side profile is something to behold – cheekbones pronounced and shiny with sweat, eyebrows soft and dark, lashes curling so prettily. her slim shoulders lift gently as she takes the puff, easing as she releases the stream of smoke. 

“mhm. arbitrary.” in the state of your high, you need a moment to rack your brain to come up with an argument, even if the topic is playful. “like, it’s just a tree with decorations. but, culturally, we attach these ideas and meanings to it, and use them to limit ourselves. but, in the most literal sense, it’s just… a tree.”

she shakes her head. “please, save me from the marijuana-induced philosophy.”

“hey, you can learn something from it!”

“such as what qualifies as a tree?” she hands you the joint, and you drown in the feeling of brushing against the dry skin of her fingers. “I think I’m already sufficiently aware.”

“okay, you’re definitely not as high as you should be if you’re using words like ‘sufficiently.” 

a small smile brushes her face. “and why exactly are you trying to get me more high?”

“think of it as a celebratory gesture for finishing uni.”

“does ‘celebratory’ mean lowering my inhibitions and getting me to confess my secrets?”

“wow, and the trust issues rear their head!” you bellow, laughing loudly. 

she snickers before murmuring, “I do trust you.” 

you smile. “I know.” it feels good to know it. “maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m trying to lure you into complacency.” you draw out the last syllable with a teasing stroke to her cheek, which sends her jerking back in surprise. 

✩

the corner of her eyes crinkle, eyes still hooked onto the opposite wall. “so, you can take advantage of me?” 

“maybe.” it’s a joke, but still, it has you fidgeting. especially when she lifts the edge of her tank top to wipe it along her gleaming face. the flash of her toned stomach, paired with the shadow of her breasts, makes you hiss sharply. 

she gently grips the wrist of the hand near her head. “you don’t need to.” something in her voice shifts, and you nearly tremble when she mutters, “you know I’d give anything to you.”

god, that’s hot. but, you feel a twinge of resistance. “but, you know, I only want you doing what you want to do as well. don’t just do something solely because I want it.”

she plants a kiss to your wrist, and you feel the warmth of her lips combine with the damp sweat lining her upper lip. “I know. I do want these things with you.”

you make a small noise in the back of your throat. “yeah?” 

“yeah.” a thin layer of saliva begins shining on the inside of your forearm as her open mouth kisses turn into long, slippery licks of her tongue. your breathing grows heavy as the tip of it curls at the sweaty inner crease near your elbow. 

“lee, I…”

she pulls back to take another hit, the musky scent of the weed making you feel nearly delirious as it wraps around you both. eagerly, you crawl across the couch and into her lap, thighs on either side of hers. as she takes in another deep breath of it, her head turns to the side as she releases the smoke. you nearly whimper at the sight of it. her smooth pink lips hugging the tip, the way they round into a small O as she blows, how her jaw tenses and flexes through it all. you want to taste the smoke that she’s breathed in, swallow down the air that’s been trapped in her mouth.

you press your nose into her cheek, breathing in her tangy sweat. “kiss me when you do that.”

she hums, one of her hands snaking under your t-shirt, rubbing the hairs on your back. wordlessly, she sucks in another puff from the joint, then finally turns to you, dark eyes entrancing and focused as her hand reaches up to cup your face, thumb stroking a patch of dry skin near your lips. she leans in, kissing you, with a small, wet squelch signifying the meeting. you suck in deep breath, moaning lowly when lee opens her mouth, tongue sliding against your bottom lip as the warm cloud flows from her mouth to yours. god, it tastes so much better from her, to get dizzy from both the weed and her insistent mouth, prodding and pushing against yours.

your hips buck, pressing down against her thigh. her short nails dig into your ass, one hand clutching and groping as the other continues to curl around the joint. your hands run along the firm grooves of her arms, gripping hard at her shoulders as your tongue continues to flick along hers, slippery and uncoordinated. the heady smoke continues to get swapped between your mouths, paired with spit and the salty taste of sweat. you need more.

you part from her with a gasp, pulling your t-shirt off and tossing it to the side of the couch. lee’s eyes immediately dart to your chest and without a moment’s hesitation, she ducks down, taking a perked nipple into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut as she slowly sucks on it, lips pressing around it to draw out a slow build of pressure. you make a pathetically whiny noise, taking a long moment to process why her hand is raising up before spotting the joint in between her fingers. you grab it, smoking as she uses both hands to hold your tits, switching between them as she pops your nipples in and out of her mouth, tongue sliding out to lap at them, the cool feeling of her saliva making your hand tremble as you smoke from the joint. 

a long sigh is drawn from your lips when one hand skims under your loose shorts, travelling to your underwear, which is heavy with arousal. 

“so needy,” she whispers against your lips, her fingertips tantalizingly light as they stroke your folds over the fabric. 

you clench at her words. you two had agreed to try out more of your guys’... unorthodox desires, and a desperate part of you hopes today will be that day. wanting to urge her on, you play into the game. “I’m not,” you breathe against her lips.

“mm, I’m sure of it.” her fingers dip under the fabric and you gulp as they skim along your pussy’s lips, gathering the wetness seeping from your opening and spreading it. “you’re just this wet, because..?”

“the, um, weed has me more… susceptible,” you whisper against her lips, pressing in another long, hard kiss.

she pulls away, rolling up the ends of her tank top and pulling it off. you bite your lip, desire shooting through your abdomen. it’s the first time you’ve seen her like this. her tits are round and perfect, heavier than you had expected. her nipples, a dark pink-brown colour, are stiff, just like they’ve always been under her shirts whenever you snuck a glance in. 

she leans further back into the couch, fingers continuing to massage your pussy as she sits comfortably, staring up at you. you brace your palms along her stomach, fingers sliding along the shape of her ribs. tracing the shape of a part of her, hidden beneath skin and flesh, makes you wanton in the intimacy of it. when you reach the sweaty underside of her breasts, you look up to her for permission.

when she nods, her tight expression melts away moments later into a contortion of pleasure as your fingers begin to stroke her nipple, thumb and index fingers rolling the stiff bud. as you watch their swelling in fascination, her thumb begins to languidly stroke and rub at your clit, using your juices to easily glide over it. the firm press of her finger sends you losing yourself for a second, accidentally toying with her nipples too hard, inciting a small cry from her. you immediately pause from your ministrations, though you can feel your hole squeeze at the noise. 

“are you okay?”

eyes still screwed shut, she nods. “yeah. you can, um, do that again.”

oh? you smile at the revelation, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. carefully, you tweak her nipples again, the sharp touch sending her lovely body arching up again, quietly calling out your name. your breaths grow heavier, body jerking when her fingers begin to move again, rubbing against your entrance, tantalizingly close to the rim of your hole. 

she sits up, wrapping her arms around your waist, mouthing slowly at your neck, her index finger beginning to push through your entrance. you whine at the tight fit of it, hips unconsciously bouncing on their own, your pussy so much more attuned to touch from the high you’re in. she gnaws and licks with an almost animalistic want, sharp teeth sinking into your skin and making you toss your head back, lost in the sensations of her fingers and mouth. 

after sucking in what feels like her fourth hickey into your neck, she pulls back, lips hanging open.

your clit throbs at the sight. “what is it?”

“the joint.”

“oh.” you laugh shyly. even with a finger deep inside you, the tip achingly close to your g-spot, you still feel yourself cower under the weight of her gaze as you lift the joint to her lips, a giddy feeling flapping through your stomach as she draws it into her mouth, inhales deeply, then keeps it dangling from her mouth until you pluck it from her mouth again. when you do, she blows the stream of smoke in your face, the heat of it soaking through the sweat on your face and making you feel even more moist and sticky. when the last of it is almost gone, she kisses you hard, shoving her tongue into your mouth and forcing you to breathe in the smoke. the rough gesture has you whining against her, your hole tightening up on her finger. when she pulls back, you laugh against her lips, “I thought you wanted me to spit in your mouth or something.”

surprisingly enough, she seems unfazed by your comment, nuzzling against your neck. “you can.”

you freeze at the proposition. memories of lee spitting on your pussy wander into your mind. so sloppy, so dirty. you want to do that, too. want to give her something that’s a part of you, that’s been in your body. 

you tug her from your neck, eager and beginning to rock against her finger. the entire motion is broken at the edges, soft and melting into every action before and after, intoxication clouding every one of your senses but adding to your sensitivity all at once. “open up.”

a corner of her lip quirks up, and she follows your demand, silently opening it. you hover your mouth over hers, hesitating before pushing a gush of saliva from your mouth, a long, thick drop of it falling to her bottom lip while the rest slides down your chin. you laugh in embarrassment, especially when a small chuckle leaves lee’s mouth. but, any embers of humiliation are washed away with the cold awareness of arousal when she licks up the white bubbles of your spit, swallowing it down, then follows suit with your chin, the soft texture of her tongue roving around it as she licks up the mess you’ve made. 

“you’re so clumsy,” she murmurs between kisses. “sloppy.”

“shut u–”

she shushes you, cutting you off with a small kiss. “no backtalk.” 

the small show of dominance has you clutching onto her tighter, your tits rubbing against hers, sweat making your bodies hot and sticky as the drops on her chest soak into your skin. it’s so wet, so messy, and the floaty state your body is in has you mindlessly moving against her, grinding on her thigh and whimpering for more. “fuck, I need you.” you lick your lips and swallow, mouth dry and scratchy. 

lee murmurs, “thirsty?” 

“mhm,” you softly whine.

“open.”

your movements faltering slightly, your lower lip hangs down, patiently awaiting her.

the sound of her spit is loud and clear as a wad of it splatters into your mouth. the sudden burst of wetness has you moaning and jerking on her lap, quietly whimpering for more. lee’s longer fingers grip your jaw hard, and she easily does it again, sharp and precise, her warm saliva spilling onto your tongue just right.

her fingers on your jaw loosen. “is this okay? being… rough?”

“yes,” you gasp. “I want more.” lost in your desire for it, you begin babbling. “you can be rougher. you know, like, the talking, the, um, spanking.” you swallow hard, sprinkling kisses on her face to avoid eye contact.

her next words are shaky, muddled with a quiet moan. “come, get up.”

you tighten your arms around her neck in protest. “why?”

in a mere few minutes later, lee has your back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower’s walls, one hand cupping your thigh, encouraging you to keep your foot propped on one of the shelves. with this angle, her fingers are able to pump in and out of you with ease, your pussy making soaked noises from your wetness and the shower’s water, the latter of which coats you and lee in cool droplets, immensely relieving. lee’s mouth is latched onto your neck, kissing and sucking as she plays with your g-spot, pressing it lightly in, while her palm curves just right against your stiff clit.

from your encouragement, and perhaps the tight, moist space of the shower, she’s gotten bolder. against your skin, she murmurs, “such a good girl. getting so loose and open. so easy, mm?”

you cry out at her lewd words. as embarrassed as it makes you to match the dirty nature of them, you can’t resist. you want more of this from her, and something about her pushing you to admit your most lustful desires out loud is irresistible. “fuck, can’t help it, you’re so hard on me.”

she huffs a quiet laugh, and the mocking edge to it has you writhing against her. “you think this is hard?” 

your pussy aches as she begins jamming her fingers into you harder and faster, brutally pressing against that sensitive spot in you, spreading you open to accommodate her. 

“this is hard,” she mutters, voice absent of feeling lest for the heavy breaths coating it. “how you’re gonna come is going to be hard.”

“I– you don’t know that. maybe–” 

a sharp gasp cuts into your words when she smacks your thigh, the noise of it loud and wet from the shower. her fingers immediately skim along the burning spot, which is sizzling with sensitivity. “okay?” 

you nod. fuck, ‘okay’ didn’t even cover it.

she nods back. “now, what were you saying before?”

you’re at a loss of words, and take several long seconds before responding. “I said that, um, you don’t kno–”

she delivers another swift swat to your ass, and your body arches against her, nails digging into her strong back. she hisses at the feeling of it, pulling you plush to her body before grabbing the spot she just hit, kneading it before slapping it again. they’re not harsh smacks, per say, but have enough of an impact to send your butt stinging delightfully. 

she makes you come just like that, one hand stroking and spanking your ass, while the other is buried in you, massaging your g-spot and coaxing whines, whimpers, and eventually, your orgasm out of you. it hits you hard, your slightly dizzy mind whirling into nothing but a focus on the sensations, the tension within your tummy snapping and sending a thick flood of warmth and tingles through you, from your guts to your toes. 

after one more orgasm is pulled out of you with the pressure of the shower head directed to your swollen clit, you’re back in lee’s room, impossibly comforted by the scent of her sheets pressed against your nose as you lie on your side, lee applying a thin layer of aloe vera to your aching skin. 

“you know, I’m not sure I wanna know exactly how you know to do this,” you giggle.

“I’m not sure you do either.” her fingers make massaging circles, slippery from the substance. 

you scoff, curiosity prickling at you. “you do realize that’s only going to make me more curious, right?”

she snickers, and you crane your neck to find her wearing an impish grin. “I know. that’s why I said it.” 

you grunt. “asshole.” 

“minutes ago, you were just singing me praises.”

you can’t help but laugh, feeling an itch of embarrassment dig at your stomach from the memory of how explicit you were earlier. “well, the shower sobered me up.” after a moment, you ask, “your ex from first year?”

“mhm.” 

you roll your eyes, amusement, tinged with slight jealousy, whirling in you. 

she runs a thumb over your warm skin. “was it too much, though?”

“what?” your head whips to her, concern squeezing your chest when you see her eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bed, brows drawn in. “baby, no! it was perfect. really, it was. it felt, like, so good.”

her lips purse together. “okay.” 

you try to lie on your back, but wince at the feeling of the itchy sheets on your ass, which sends lee’s eyes darting up to you, wide and alert. her palm rests on the small of your back, gently pushing you back to your side. 

you tug on her wrist. “okay, well, sit closer to me so I can see you.”

she obliges, standing from the chair she was plopped on, and sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. eyes downcast, she absent-mindedly strokes you. her torso is still bare, skin warm and flushed under the light streaming from her window. you’ve noticed she’s quite comfortable with how she looks. shy and awkward when it comes to the vulnerability of being seen, that much is clear, but it doesn’t seem like those emotions are fused with any sort of self-consciousness. look at her now – a few weeks of having sex, and she’s completely open and at ease at being half-nude in front of you.

it’s not so easy for you to do the same. your relationship with your body has been non-linear, to say the least, and while you thought some of that would change upon being wanted by the girl who you’ve pined over for months, there are still bouts of self-doubt that plague you every now and then. sometimes, it comes during sex – a flood of anxiety-inducing thoughts about how you smell, taste, look at this angle or that angle. other times, it comes when she touches you, and you wonder if she likes what she feels. sometimes, just a glance from her is enough to trigger it. you know you shouldn’t care so much about her opinion, even if she’s the one you hold in your heart. but, you can’t help it. you want her to like you, you want her to be so attracted to you that it doesn’t fade to a full stop in the future.

the future. it’s still stomach-turning to think of sometimes. while things feel a lot more comfortable than they had weeks ago, there’s still a flicker of anxiety that burns brighter at moments where you least want it to show up. like now.

you try to ignore the thoughts, grasping her hand gently. “it was amazing. did you enjoy it?” 

“I did.” her eyes raise tentatively to you. “a lot.”

“yeah, you got really into it.”

she rolls her eyes, her mouth twitching. “I wouldn’t say… really into it.”

you guffaw, eyes squeezing through your laughter. “the state of my ass would say otherwise.”

“I see. I’m not yet well-versed enough with it to know its language.”

“something tells me you soon will be.”

she snorts, ducking her head away. “maybe.” after a small pause, still not meeting your gaze, she lowers herself to press a kiss to your back. “you did really good, too. thank you for all of this. it was really good.”

satisfaction carries a comforting weight in your stomach and you smile. “of course.”

✩

–

lee had been correct in her assumption. pride, like every other march, really is overwhelming. which she had anticipated, of course, having had requested a few hours alone in the morning just to mentally prepare, which you had been glad to give her, leaving her to stay in her room as you watched television and prepared dinner for later that evening.

it’s overwhelming in a myriad ways, some expected and others as a surprise. for one, it’s suffocating. people crowding in everywhere, hot, sweaty bodies pounding into her even when the two of you remain on the sidelines of the crowd. there’s music blasting on some speakers, her eyes feel like they can barely capture just how many textures and colours exist amongst all the clothes, and some of which she can confidently claim she hasn’t even seen before. bodies are so exposed that they have her immediately averting her eyes, pointed at the ground in embarrassment as seeing such intimate parts revealed. there’s loud chanting wrapped around her, screams and shouts of all octaves, while signs of different organizations are thrusted into the air, creating a layer of coloured blocks running through the top of the crowd. she knows it’s all for a good cause, and she’s glad to offer her own dose of support. but, visually, auditorily, she’s a mess.

so, it’s suffocating, yes. but, she also feels like for the first time, she can breathe. there’s no sense of the discomfort she once possessed at being a girl in her high school who didn’t want to wear a skirt and who didn’t look at boys. there’s no tightness in her chest from sitting in a church. there’s no fear at your touch. she knows that here, the rules she spent her entire life keenly aware of are bent, loosened, and maybe even completely dissipated. there are no boundaries of everyday life, and while rules and standards usually help to offer her a semblance of structure in a world she still doesn’t know how to navigate, and she usually is glad to use them as a guidepost, she doesn’t always agree with them. and here, in this hot, searing afternoon, they’re banished. it makes her feel both lost and like for the first time, every action of hers is ripped from obligation and the awareness of others’ eyes on her. it feels wrong, and off, but more freeing than she’s ever known. 

but, it all shatters. in just a singular moment. the march moves past a church, and she’s so weak that that’s all it takes. just a few church-goers standing on the steps, watching the crowd like prey. just the sight of one woman whose grey hair is like her mom’s.

her mom, whose eyes had widened in shock when she had caught lee lying with her girlfriend in her cramped up bed back in high school. her mom, who had never mentioned it again and acted like it didn’t even happen. her mom, whose feelings on the situation lee didn’t even know, but paired with her mother’s faith, the cross she wore on her chest, the reminders of sinning and praying, lee had felt casted to shame. her mom, whose evasion in the situation, just like with everything else, made lee never bring it up again. she almost preferred the unknowingness of the silence, rather than the confirmation of her mother’s disgust. maybe that’s presumptuous of her to assume, considering her mother’s silence may have just been stemmed from shock, or wanting to give lee privacy. but, lee doesn’t know and she isn’t ready to find out. not when just a flash of grey is enough to make her panic.

like it’s an instinct that’s stuck with her through all of evolution, something to tap into without a second thought, she lets go of your hand. 

when you jolt in surprise next to her, her body immediately floods with a sea of shame. her fingers twitch and ache for you to return, but she knows you won’t. not when she let go first. not when your own mind must be clouded with the confusion over what she just did. what is wrong with her? how did she ruin this so fast?

the frustration and embarrassment begins to wring out the bits and pieces of ease she felt just moments before, the crowd feeling hotter and more stifling than before. irrationally, her eyes burn, jaw clenched together as her mind becomes drowned in a whirlwind of thoughts, all of which are anxiously appointed to her, her mistake and how you must be feeling.

“can we, um…” she mumbles into your ear, voice trembling. “can we please move from the march for a second?”

your eyes widen, and she thinks you look concerned. she swallows hard. she doesn’t deserve your concern right now.

but, you give it nonetheless, nodding to a park and saying, “come on.”

you leave lee for a few minutes to head to the convenience store, your hands clutching water bottles and popsicles when you return.

as lee sucks on hers, red and bloody, she can’t help but thrum her fingers along her pants. she feels like a child, lost and needing to be consoled even though she’s the one who made an error. “thank you.”

“yeah, of course.”

of course. it’s always that. your care for her is an automatic, an unasked for response that’s drained of doubt or hesitation. it makes her feel all the more self-conscious of what just happened. you care for her so easily, and she couldn’t even manage to hold your hand for a full hour.

“I’m sorry. for letting go.”

“lee, babe–”

“I don’t know what happened,” she speaks, voice low. “I just saw the church, the people. and it felt like an instinct to hide.”

“that’s understandable, though,” you insist to her dismay. “you grew up hearing all sorts of stuff from the church.”

“I know, but I don’t want to hide now.” the words unravel on her tongue before she can think twice. the longer the silence passes after she says them, the more she realizes how true they are. she spent so long hiding away, reserving her love, her attraction, to shame-filled shadows and dirty corners. these past few weeks, she hasn’t known for certain if she wants you to touch her in public. but, for the first time, she’s realized that to limit your touches, and reserve them to privacy only, is to succumb to what she was before. it means going back to hiding herself through restricted grazes and the same four walls always encapsulating her and a lover. up until now, she hadn’t thought of it that way. how asking you to only touch her at home is going to drag her right back to the shame-filled secrecy she inhabited throughout most of her life. the secrecy that was so stifling, so overbearing, that she partially went to another city just to escape from. 

it all feels tragically wrong now, to think of hiding you away. to having you two resemble the life she led back in oregon. she doesn’t want you, another person she feels so strongly for, to become the shame she carries. “listen, I… I don’t know if I’d be able to hold your hand in, I don’t know, my hometown.” she sighs, the noise heavy. “but, I’d like to do it here. I’d like to do it more.”

you peel her hair behind her ear. “I know. it scares me too, you know? to touch publicly, be open. but, I try. to make it easier for others, to make it easier for us.”

“some people would say it’d make it harder for us.”

you frown, and she purses her lips together. she wishes she hadn’t said that. “if we know a place would be dangerous for us, we don’t have to. but, if we’re not in danger, I’d rather have the temporary discomfort than long term shame.”

temporary discomfort rather than long term shame. that’s really what it is, isn’t it? 

“I do, too.” she keeps her eyes locked onto the ground, mulling for a few moments before speaking again. she’d prefer to move past this, but she knows you deserve more than that. “I think what happened just now made me realize how much I… don’t miss the shame. and it made me realize how it’d feel to re-enter it. I can’t go back to it. and I don’t want you to ever feel that way either.” she hesitates, then raises her eyes to yours, forcing herself to hold your gaze. “if we’re safe, then I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to go back to how it felt before.”

you lean in, kissing the corner of her mouth. the safety the touch brings, the comfort – this feels like a touch that cleanses her of sin, that plunges her into water and runs through her until her body is whole.

maybe one day, she’ll be brave enough to be like this with you even if it isn’t safe. maybe one day, she’ll have the courage to bring you to her hometown and kiss you at the gas station, on the street leading up to the church. maybe the courage will outweigh the ridicule, the punishment she could face. but, even then, she doesn’t want to see you go through that. she doesn’t want to see you punished. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into the fabric of your shirt a half hour later. you smell like her detergent, and she inhales how it mixes with your scent over and over again.

the two of you have slowly become surrounded by more couples and friends, splayed on their backs or hunched over each other. the chatter is still too loud for her liking, but the longer you two remain there, the more it melts into a faded noise. the only things at the forefront of her senses are the cherry taste of the popsicle and the solid weight of your body. 

“what for?” you mutter. you’re on your back, hand stroking the strings of grass near her head. it takes her a moment to absorb your question, a tad distracted by how your eyes search hers. 

“for suggesting we come.” the march has been pretty draining on her, yeah, but it’s unlike anything she’s ever seen before. such an unadulterated sense of freedom, boundless expression. her whole life, she’s felt like an outsider, the feeling only expanded with each unorthodox decision she’s made. the aversion to femininity, the abandonment of religion, the entrance into law enforcement. but, here, it feels like any decision she makes is out of the shackles of expectations.

it makes it easier to lean down, her lips hovering just over yours. her chest is tense, for this kind of affection, kissing and more intimate touches, is something she prefers keeping private. but, who knows if she’ll ever get the chance to kiss you without the fear of others again?

and so, she plants her lips on yours, swallowing down the little huff of air that escapes your lips. one hand fists into the grass, while the other holds herself up, lips coaxing for you to open so that she can slip her tongue in. 

when your sigh gets pushed into her mouth, she swallows it down and leans over you further, shoulders loosening as she loses focus on the rest of the world for once. 

yeah, she doesn’t want to lose this feeling 

“when are you going back home?” you mumble into her neck a few long kisses later.

“our home?”

you laugh against her neck. “no, I mean, your home in oregon.” you push away, eyelashes fluttering up at her. “you call our place ‘home’?”

lee blinks down at you. she supposes she does. it happened so gradually that she completely missed it. but, somewhere amongst the tree that out-stayed its welcome, the movie nights, the blood stain she left on your bedsheets three weeks ago, the one you told her you’d be honoured to sleep next to, what was once just the apartment became home. “yeah.” she clears her throat, uncomfortable with being caught unexpectedly in such an exposing moment. “I do.”

“have you called any of your past places a home?”

“other than my house in oregon, no.” and even that she only continues to consider a home because she grew up there and her mom still remains. those two factors, embedded in her for what she presumes will be forever, form an unbreakable, metallic bond to her old town and rotting house. 

lee sighs, glancing down to you, and she nearly flinches when she sees the moisture in your eyes. “what… are you okay?” her stomach squeezes in anxiety. what did she do wrong? she mentally reviews the last hour. was the church thing affecting you now?

“yeah.” you sniffle, pressing your face into the sweaty skin of her neck. “I’m just happy you see our place in that way.”

lee’s mouth twitches. this is what you’re crying over? she’s not even sure what to say. “okay. are you okay?”

you nod against her, your hair tickling right under her chin. “I just – I… I really like you.”

her arm tightens around your shoulders, the confession making her feel completely thrown off her guard, unbalanced and toppling. it doesn’t make sense, but your outright declaration of your feelings, leaving nothing to the imagination, and your confidence in the words, make her overwhelmed. how can someone like her so much? how can it be so easy?

“thanks,” she responds feebly.

you gently thwack her stomach with a chuckle. “‘thanks’? that’s all I get?”

“I’ve already made my feelings… known. remember, five weeks ago, your bedroom, you had purple socks in your hands.” lee could practically recite the details of the moment like scripture, ingrained into her memory from her repetition of it during the week it occurred. 

“how do you remember my purple socks?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” if it were up to lee, she’d be able to remember anything and everything that happened since last september. sear it into her mind until she can open it up like a book whenever she wants to look back on anything that’s happened. she wishes she was powerful enough to secure all the details. but, she still manages a satisfactory amount. she remembers the top you wore when you two first met, the rough patch of skin that had remained on your skin for weeks during winter, the nervous laughter you gave during your presentation during finals season, the sight of your hand next to hers when you touched the tapes during your first visit to the video shop, the crackle of your voice when you first spoke on the phone before you had even met. somehow, almost as though her body had anticipated what would happen before her conscious mind did, you had been leaving imprints on her since the beginning. small flecks of you, your mannerisms, what you shared – they all remain collected in her mind. not all, unfortunately. but, enough to sate her. “you were fiddling with them.”

“was I really?”

“mhm.” it was cute. it made her feel a bit reassured, for you were evidently just as nervous as her. 

“you’re sweet for noticing it.”

she turns away from you, stroking her fingers over your top. “do you feel better?”

“much.” you peck her cheek. “now, back to before, when are you going back to your mom’s?”

“second week of august.”

“for how long?”

her lips fold in. she’s been trying not to think of it much. “three weeks. maybe a month if she needs me.”

you hum. “I’ll miss you.”

she silently presses a kiss to your head. it makes her feel slightly hollow to think of the weeks she’ll be away from you, your guys’ home, even that little christmas tree that has a plastic little umbrella hanging from it, courtesy of the restaurant you two had eaten at after her exam. unexpected as it is, what you guys have is now a home. it’s comfortable.

“thank you,” she pushes herself to say.

“again? what for?”

her eyes latch onto a drifting cloud, tinged with gold at the edges. “for… making the apartment a home.”

you fiddle with the material of her button-up. “you did that too, you know.”

lee isn’t really certain how. you got the tree, you spoke to her first, you were kind to her when all she really wanted was amicable silence. “not really.”

“yes, really. you wash my dishes, you make me coffee regularly, you’re a lot cleaner than I am so half of the time, the place is only standing because of you. you schedule in our movie nights and never miss them, you surprise me with tapes I mention. you’re just so sweet.” you kiss her neck. “really sweet.” another kiss, and lee’s hissing, face hot from the words and your affection.

“stop,” she whispers. “we’re still in public.”

“says the girl who just made out with me.”

“I had momentum.”

you press another wet kiss to her neck, and lee has to resist letting her hips flinch when you slowly suck on the spot. “so do I.” you let go of her neck with a pop. “but, before I get ahead of myself, thank you. for saying I helped make the apartment a home.”

lee needs a moment to digest and dim the pleasure aroused by your attention. “it’s just the truth.” she takes a moment mulling over what she wants to say next. it feels heavy on her tongue, but she lets the weight of it roll off. “I didn’t really think I’d get to have that. unless I lived alone.”

you face creases, lips tightening. she thinks you look upset. “why?” your tone is soft, soothing, as though you’re consoling a child.

“I don’t know.” she can’t meet your eyes, not like this. “I don’t think I’m easy to understand. not as in I’m special, but I just don’t fit… socially. not in the right way.”

“well, what even is the right way?”

she knows you’re trying to challenge her not to argue, but to prove to her that there’s nothing wrong with her. and while the effort is appreciated, lee knows it’s not viable. she’s spent enough years analyzing other people, taking careful observations of them so she could learn the right and wrong ways to proceed socially, to know that how she functions isn’t what’s natural for most. and it sets her apart, it makes her stick out when socializing is demanded of her. “I don’t know. but, it’s not me. I know it isn’t.” she sucks in a deep breath, forcing herself to keep going. she’d prefer not to, but she wants to trie for you. “I keep waiting to finally reach a moment when I feel comfortable in the world, with people. but, it keeps not coming.” just as she had once told you on the subway, she’s lost – in this world, in trying to navigate it. though, at that time, there had been numerous ways she felt lost lingering on her mind when she said that.

“I’m sorry you feel uncomfortable. but, there’s nothing wrong with you, you know? sure, there are certain standards, but just because a standard is popular, it doesn’t mean it’s the right way to be. you’re a good person, and kind. and just because you don’t naturally model certain standards, standards that are arbitrary, anyways, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, lee.”

lee’s breath trembles as she digests your words. she knows, logically, all of that is true. she’s repeated similar notions to herself on more than one occasion. but, no matter the logic and objectivity behind it, you both still can’t change the fact that those standards do shape the world. and so long as she exists in this world, there’ll always be part of her that clashes with it. “I know. but, still, those standards mean something to a lot of people.”

“I know.” you lean on her shoulder, eyes light under the sun, carefully exploring her face. it makes lee’s stomach tighten in pressure. “but, just know there’s nothing wrong with you, okay? it’s fucked up if people make you feel anything different just because you don’t follow a certain standard. good people, right people, would never judge you for that. and with time, you’ll find more and more of those people. I’m sure of it. because you’re wonderful.”

she gulps down hard, shoulders shifting. the praise makes her feel like a blinding spotlight is pointed right on her, and it doesn’t feel easy to hear it. and while your words are comforting, she can’t say she minds the amount of people she already has in her life. amaya, maria, you. she’s always been pretty content with leading a solitary life, lest for the occasional moments of wishing for more companionship. so, three people is more than enough. she just wishes she didn’t struggle so much to navigate outside of those three people. not because she wants to interact, but rather because she simply wishes she could feel less uneasy when forced to do so.

“thank you. I just feel that I’ll always be uncomfortable in certain situations.” she pushes herself to look at you. “it’s okay.”

“yeah.” your voice is quiet, and she hopes she hasn’t deflated the hope you had approached the conversation with. “but, I’m here to talk when those moments occur, okay?”

she blinks at the lack of surprise your words ignite in her. her trust in you is that steady within her – your kindness not even surprising her anymore.

when she visits her friends that night, they’re stunned at the revelation of where she’s been.

“I gotta admit it, I never thought I’d see the day,” amaya chuckles, dicing the mushrooms for the pasta she’s making. 

“but, you weren’t pushed to go to it, right?” maria asks wryly, her eyes sliding to lee.

lee pauses in her peeling of the potatoes, her sigh short and tempered. “I wasn’t.”

maria’s face immediately flattens. “that wasn’t meant to be judgy.”

“it sounded like it.”

maria sighs, the creases on her forehead smoothing out. “it’s not, okay? ever since you told me how the whole ‘girlfriend’ situation was handled, I feel better about things. you got an apology and proper, honest communication. that’s good.”

lee uses her task to give herself some time to think. she’s glad to know that maria has warmed up somewhat, but she can’t help but be bitten by doubt over if her approval is truly secured. “but, you still don’t approve?”

“no, I do,” maria says, placing her fingers on lee’s wrist. “I’ve seen you both, and from what you’ve told me, things seem good. I just– I can’t help but still have a bit of a hawk eye sometimes.”

“why, though?” lee doesn’t enjoy being under the microscope of anyone’s scrutiny, especially from her friend and especially regarding her own relationship. even if she’s relieved maria approves, she doesn’t want these tidbits of doubt casted onto her.

“because you’re my friend.” maria’s hand tightens, and lee’s twitches in response. “I’m just protective, and I want to make sure things are okay.”

“things are okay,” lee presses. “and even if they ever get… not okay, trust that I will take care of it.”

maria purses her lips, and lee knows her well enough to know it’s a sign of some internal resistance. but, finally, she nods, eyes boring into hers. “okay, yeah, you’re right. I trust you.”

it’s three words, but lee knows maria wouldn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. and so, with a sigh, she pats maria’s hand and lets go. she wishes maria’s reluctance wasn’t there, and she knows it doesn’t deserve to be there, but all she can do is hope that maria will change soon enough. 

it’s what you deserve.

–

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

seven words, and it’s enough to send you into a panic.

it all started when you and lee had gone to amaya, maria, and amaya’s sister, thuraya’s, apartment earlier that evening. you guys had been doing that a lot lately, since lee had relayed to you that amaya was planning to travel with her boyfriend for the next six months after graduation. you know how heartbroken lee is, even if she doesn’t admit it herself. her eyes keep wandering down whenever you mention amaya, and when leaving their apartment today, lee lingered in amaya’s hug for many long moments, holding onto her tight. 

you were touched by the moment, you really were, but something kept gnawing at your mind, lurking in a corner and ticking you with a bothersome finger.

you, amaya, maria and lee had been seated on the floor in their living room, legs crossed and folded as you guys dipped and shared out of the bowls on the table. the conversation had strayed to lee’s approaching visit to her mom’s, and maria had said, “it’s not gonna be stifling there, right?”

your eyes had immediately darted to lee. you know she doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom, and your stomach turned in worry.

lee’s mouth pinched together. “I mean, it will be. but, I should still go. it’s what’s right.”

“has it gotten worse?” amaya asked, dark eyebrows drawn sympathetically as her hand went to lee’s knee.

“yeah. it does everytime.”

“she doesn’t touch your room, though, right?”

lee nodded.

and all you could do was sit there, feeling utterly drained of knowledge. you had thought lee’s previously mentioned unwellness of her mom was what amaya was speculating about. but, then, what did lee’s room have to do with it? 

“I don’t know how you do it,” maria mumbled, dipping another corn chip into the salsa. “I’d go crazy there.”

“okay, let’s maybe try positive thinking,” amaya said, flashing maria a tight, mocking smile. “at least you get to see your mom, lee. she deals with so much.”

you swallowed hard. you had come to that same conclusion based on what lee has said, weeks ago, but it sounded like maria and amaya knew exactly what lee’s mom dealt with, whereas the details are lost on you. all lee had said was that she was unwell, but you knew none of the nuances or events laced into that.

it only stung more when amaya’s eyes flicked to you, clearly catching sight of your scrunched eyebrows and wide eyes. her glance shifted to lee, who was still staring down at her knees, then turned back to you with an awkward chuckle. “oh, um, sorry.”

lee’s head sharply raised at that, but as soon as you looked at her, she ducked her head to the side. that only made your stomach sink further.

back at home, you sat on lee’s bed, trying to bite back the stinging jealousy at not knowing as much about lee as her friends, fused with burning curiosity and a slight desperation. but, it was no use. your mind was whirling with questions, flashing through the tidbits of information lee has left scattered through the past year, trying to see if you can make anything of them. some pieces were lodged into place – lee doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom, there’s something up with her mom, it seems to have been just the two of them growing up. they’re from oregon. you sigh. it’s not enough, you need to know more. all the information you have seems to be just on the surface, without reason, without explanation. 

and so, you ask, “lee?” 

“hm?” she hums, tugging her shirt off, revealing her plain pink bra. you try not to go silent for too long, eyes unable to resist wandering along her freckled chest, then the dip of her cleavage. something feels so secretive, so mischievous, about seeing your girlfriend undressed and revealing the slopes and crevices of skin she usually keeps hidden. you want to worship her body, show her how much you cherish her trusting you like this.

but, maybe for another time. “um,” you start, trying to shake yourself out of the distracted lull. “I wanted to ask, lee, what’s going on with your mom?”

she freezes, shirt hanging from her wrist as she slowly slides it free. “this is about what amaya said?”

you gulp, suddenly seized with guilt. it makes you feel small, to know these questions have only been aroused by someone else knowing her better than you. you’ve always been curious to learn of her, of course you’ve been, but it’s like that conversation with amaya and maria slapped in your face just how little you know. before then, what with how slowly lee opened up, you were content with the pieces of herself she had gifted you. and you were under the impression that these were all the tidbits she could manage. but, now, knowing other people know more than you do makes you feel like it’s no longer enough, and that there’s more she ought to share. if she was able to confide in other people about more of this situation, why were you still left in the dark? you're curious to know more, and now that you know she very much can share it, you want to be part of that.

“I guess. but, I guess I didn’t realize just how little I know until I had to compare it to someone else. before, I felt like I knew a lot more, and now, it’s like I’m realizing I don’t.”

she sighs through her nostrils, a small puff of air exiting as she folds her shirt. “you do know a lot.”

a flicker of annoyance burns in you. “well, clearly not that much. and I’d like to know more. it’s an important part of you.”

her dresser makes a piercing screech as she drags it open, and you wince. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“lee, you practically recoil whenever I bring it up! it’s clearly a big thing for you, and I want to know.”

“for my sake, or your own?”

you flinch, a stab of hurt digging through your skin. “what does that mean?”

“you’re asking because my friends know more,” she plainly states, her nude back turned to you as she unhooks her bra.

you splutter, indignant anger running through you, hot and boiling. “that’s not fair, lee. I’ve always cared, I’ve always asked. I’m just asking this now because hearing amaya made me realize I actually know a lot less than I thought I did. sure, there might be some jealousy involved, but like, it’s also about wanting to know more about my girlfriend now that I know she’s capable of sharing it with others.”

“well, I’ve known them longer than you.” her tone is flat, even, and too calm for your liking, especially when compared to the way yours quivered moments before. “you don’t need to be jealous, it’s to be expected that they know more and that I’ve shared more.”

“yeah, well, trust shouldn’t be measured by time, it’s just trust.”

“I do trust you,” she firmly says, placing her folded shirt into an open drawer. “but, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“ever?” the idea makes you feel a wretched sort of nausea. god, what does it mean if she never shares this with you? what does it mean that she’s hesitating at all? did you do something? have you been a bad girlfriend? is this because of your doubts from the night you guys got together? you’re her girlfriend, that should carry at least some weight, some level of unwavering trust. right? when you guys were friends, it was okay, it was normal for these things to take time. but, being romantically involved usually changes that. and the fact that it’s not changing makes you feel jolted, dizzy with fear and spinning thoughts. 

“not never. just not tonight.” her voice is quiet, but it’s steady and clear in her desires. 

“but, why? do you not trust me?”

“I said I did.”

“then, why don’t you want to tell me?”

her fingers curl onto the edge of the dresser, her grip tight. “it’s just… a lot. for me. I’m not ready to explain it all yet.”

you pause, the edges of your irritation softening. to hear her make such a vulnerable confession, and absolve your responsibility in it, makes you feel both relieved and sympathetic for her. you want to touch her, press your mouth to her back, which is still naked. but, the back and forth from moments before, the first one you two have ever seriously had, makes you feel silted and awkward. anxiety pulses through you at the thought of her being mad at you.

“I’m just…”

she grabs a flimsy t-shirt from her drawer, tossing it on, the motion musing her ponytail. “you should trust me, too, to go at my own pace.”

“I do! but, it’s hard to feel comfortable with you keeping this to yourself, and like, downplaying it when that’s clearly not the case. and, you know, bringing up how you’ve known your friends longer. it makes me feel, then, like it’s a me-thing.”

“it’s not.” her fingers rasp on her thigh. “but, I can’t keep assuring you of that. not when you’re pushing me this much.”

“I’m not–”

“I need some time alone.” her head tilts in your direction, sharp jaw clenched, eyes still avoiding you. “please.” 

your eyes begin to sizzle with tears, humiliation gnawing at your stomach. she’s never pushed you away like this, so this is new territory, painfully unfamiliar. she’s asked you for time alone before, yes, and you’ve been happy to give it to her. but, not in a moment fresh with pain. you want to latch onto her, press your face into her shoulder and cry, beg her to stay. because you need her in this raw, wounded moment. because in this moment, the question prodding at your mind despairingly is: is this a sign she’s tired of you?

but, you don’t want to hold on too tight. you don’t want to tire her even more if that’s what’s happening.

“I… okay.”

you weep into your pillow immediately upon entering, the yellow colour of it becoming soaked in your tears. you wish you were better than this, to not be reduced to tears just because she asked for space. it’s not like it’s even a ton of space, considering she’s right down the hall. and you know it’s fair for her to ask for that space, to need it. but, for the first time, you’re restricted from her room, her presence. and maybe it’s because it’s the first time such a thing has happened, but it’s stifling. the reminder of what happened seizes you with a death grip, forcing you down a trail of ugly thoughts about if she wants you a little less now.

it tumbles into flashes and recollections of past experiences. moments where time with past romantic partners, or well, whatevers, winded in mistreatment, distance, pushes away – anything that ended up making you wonder what exactly you had done to deserve this. lee isn’t being cruel, the rational part of you knows that. but, in the extremity of your emotions, you can’t help but get thrown down the rabbit hole, plagued with the thoughts that maybe she’s tired of you and wants time away from you because of that. that maybe you’ll lose her just like everyone else. or she’ll come to see you as a bit less worthy of good treatment now.

beneath it all, is guilt. you flip the argument in your mind over and over again, and with time, you begin to wince at all the times you pressed, even after lee made it clear your insecurities weren't why she was evading telling you. you don't know what she's been through, nor how pressured your pushes might've been making her. maybe you should've been more gentle about it.

you fall asleep early that night, eyes blotchy and swollen, head tense, and body wound up with the need to pee, but too drained to move.

at midnight, a soft knock comes to your door, and you stir lightly. 

lee doesn’t wait before entering your room, her bare feet softly hitting the floor as she slowly moves to your bed. your room is pitch black with the lack of a window, and you can just barely make out her face until she crouches next to you. you meekly watch her, soft blanket curled to your chin. 

“hey,” she quietly whispers. her eyes aren’t on you.

and that, pathetically, lovingly, breaks you even more in that moment. you sniffle, a tear not hesitating to escape the confines of your eye.

lee’s eyes flicker up and widen at the sight. “hey, hey.” she leans in closer, pressing her chin to the fold of your blanket, her breaths brushing your skin. her eyebrows, so dark you can catch sight of them even without light, are wrinkled in concentration, her shining eyes watching you intently. “baby, I…”

“sorry,” you choke out, pressing your face into the pillow. 

“no, no, don’t.” she leans in, fingers ghosting your forehead, her head shaking. 

but, you can't stop, each hard blink releasing a new stream of tears, small sobs bubbling in your throat. “are you sick of me?”

she draws in a loud, harsh breath, head tilting. after a moment of silence, she mutters, “can I come into your bed?”

after all the nights you two have shared in it, you’ve forgotten that it’s technically just yours to begin with. and god, did you miss her tonight, even if it was just three hours. you shuffle to where the bed is braced against the wall, and lee slides in and arranges her pillow so easily, as though you guys have vowed to sleep in this bed every night.

you gulp when she immediately presses the front of her body to yours, her hand cupping your cheek, forehead nudged against yours. “I won’t ever be sick of you.”

“you don’t kno–”

“I do.” her breaths are shuddering now, shaking at the edges. “I’m sure of it.”

you continue crying, small noises bursting from your mouth as your body shakes. lee leans in, her lips capturing every tear as she murmurs, “I’m here.”

“how do you know you’ll never get sick of me?”

“because I… I just won’t. I know I won’t. I know it’s hard, but trust me. I won’t.”

the word trust reignites a flood of memories of the argument, and you cough on the dryness of your throat, embarrassment crawling through you as you say, “I’m sorry. for pushing before. I do trust you to go at your own pace, and I want you to. I just got scared. that you not wanting to talk about it meant you didn’t trust me. or that we’d never reach a place of you telling me.”

 she smoothes a palm over your hip, remaining in silence for a few moments, clearly absorbing your words. after a few moments, she speaks, voice quiet and hushed. “I do trust you. and we will talk about it soon.”

“soon?” 

“yeah, soon. I didn’t want to talk about it because it’s… hard for me. but, I do want to share it. and you should know.”

“I don’t want it to just be done out of obligation.”

“it won’t. it’s… a lot for me. but, I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like something is missing.”

you sigh. while the thought process definitely considers you, and is sweet in nature, you want her to share because of reasons not so focused on you. “but, I want you to tell me because you want to. not because you just don’t want me to feel bad.”

she nods. “I know.” the stroke of her thumb slows to a stop. “but, it’s not only about wanting to help you feel like you understand me. I also… like being understood by you. and I don’t want things unspoken between us. that never works.”

your emotions feel even more heightened at her words. lee wants you to understand her, and she wants to be specifically understood by you. that feels like an honour. “but, you want to tell me even if you don’t want to talk about it?”

“if it was easy for me to talk about, I would.” she sounds so timid, her voice small in the gentle confession. “I avoid it because it’s…”

“painful?” 

her face flinches. “amongst other things.”

tears slowly subsiding, your eyes explore her face. she looks like she’s shrunk from talking about this, shoulders hunched and body curled like a child. it makes your stomach whirl into a knot and tighten in equal parts sympathy and worry as to what she went through.

“just… only do it when you’re ready,” you whisper, the back of your hand lifting to graze her cheek.

she catches your wrist and bows her head down to your fingers. a trembling kiss meets your knuckles, and she says against them, “I’m sorry. if I hurt you before.”

and the tears rush back, the reminder of her hard tone making you want to bury your face against her. 

lee’s bottom lip gets caught beneath her small teeth, and she quietly watches you cry. “I… I shouldn’t have said you only wanted to know because my friends knew. it was a wrongful misjudgement. I thought at the time it was right, but it isn’t.”

“yeah.” the word comes out croaky and dry. you feel like the amount of tears you’ve shed has drained your body of all its replenishing water. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. or thought it. not when you’ve always been so… curious.” after a pause, she quickly adds, “not in a bad way.”

“are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

her acknowledgement of the stinging words helps to relax some of the unease in your stomach. but, there’s still one more thing you need to bring up. “it, um, it hurt me when you told me that you can’t assure me anymore.”

“why did that hurt you?”

you wince. “what do you mean?”

“I tried assuring you, but you didn’t accept it, so I said I wouldn’t anymore. I don’t understand why it’s hurtful.”

the only thing stopping you from feeling completely crestfallen is the fact that it doesn’t sound like she’s criticizing you, but is rather genuinely trying to figure out what you’re feeling.

“it made me feel like, I don’t know, like there’s a limit to the assurance you’d give me. which, like, yeah, I get if there is with extreme amounts. but, in that moment, it was just hard for me to feel like you trust me with the stuff you said. so, it scared me, and I needed you.”

“but, I had already told you I trusted you. I didn’t understand the point of repeating myself.”

“because I was still worried, lee. I mean, you know, that sort of anxiety doesn’t always make sense, it doesn’t always just… go away. sometimes it stays even after reassurance, and in that moment, it was staying. especially because I was still worried over stuff you had said before.” your voice lowers towards the end, praying she doesn’t feel attacked by you saying these things.

when she says nothing, you inadvertently squirm in discomfort, hoping your requirements weren’t too much. 

lee’s arm around you tightens, and she mutters, “you’re right. I’m sorry.”

you stare at her, a touch of surprise rippling through. “really?” 

she nods. “yeah. you felt anxious, and I should’ve been there.”

“I mean, you were.”

“yeah, but completely. without conditions or a limit.” her face is tight in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said I won’t give you assurance. I…” she sighs, gulping hard. “I need to be better.”

“but, you’re already great, lee.” 

she sighs, and without a word, leans in to kiss you. the salty drops of your tears drip and curl around your lips, giving the kiss a sour taste. but, it’s so sweet in the tenderness, so sweet in the way lee pours affection into it.

when she parts from you, breaths heavy, she whispers, “even if you feel that way, still, I’ll do better.”

“so will I,” you say, the promise surprisingly weightless on your tongue. 

for it’s easy, really, to want to do better for her.

----

a/n: so, as I mentioned before, tumblr was being a little bitch and not letting me post the whole of summer's part two, meaning I had to divide the summer chap yet again, making it now three parts (which is why this one ends so abruptly ;-;). so, this post is the second part, and honestly, I might just post the third part super soon bc I've made you guys wait long enough as is KDJSKDJ (in 2-3 days most likely, if you want to be tagged lmk through comments or asks <33)