December hangs heavy over UConn. It’s like a fever in the worst sense of the word: no heat, but still a lingering discomfort everyone is still trying to adjust to, a tossing and turning while trying to fight off something that won’t leave for months. Paige can feel it in her joints because of their refusal to move without screeching in pain, can feel it in the pinch of heat on her cheeks and nose when the cold numbs them and her skin turns pink trying to fight it off.

Her face is cold right now. She’s walking in from the parking lot to the apartment building that her and all her teammates live in, body wrapped in a hoodie and sweats and wind whipping across her bare face. Her hands are full: she’s holding a grocery tote full of food and flowers. Her middle finger is stuck through the ring of her keys and it’s cutting off circulation worse than the cold is. She squints through the wind as she tries to let herself into the building with freezing hands.

All she has is for Azzi. The flowers, the snacks, everything in the bag. All for Azzi, her beautiful girlfriend of a few months, freshman at UConn and the best basketball player Paige knows. She usually gets giddy just thinking about it. But today is not time for being giddy.

Azzi has been off the last week or so. Not really talking much, rarely trying to hang out with Paige, skipping practice more than usual- which, for her, is almost never. She’s just seemed down. It’s almost scary for Paige, who has had no clue how to help her if she’s not talking to her.

They might only be officially girlfriends for a few months now, but they’ve been best friends for much longer. Paige knows Azzi. She knows she usually gets a little sad during the winter. Seasonal depression or whatever. What she didn’t know, or she guesses she’s worried is very out of the ordinary, is that she seems genuinely depressed. Not in the usual “I’m so sad it’s cold and I’m nervous for basketball season to start” way. In a “I don’t want to leave my bed and I haven’t spoken to anyone in days” way. Paige has never seen her like this. Truth be told, she hasn’t really seen her a lot - long distance friendship had made it hard for them to hang out for longer than a few days, especially because they were in high school - but she’s still worried.

She gets to Azzi’s apartment quickly. The route is memorized. She knocks on the door, knuckles against wood, heart a little quick in her chest. She’s worried. She’s worried she’s overstepping, that Azzi won’t appreciate her trying to come see her when she’s clearly been in a bad mood the last week. She’s worried she’s not doing enough and Azzi really isn’t okay and her gesture of kindness will be so late it won’t mean anything.

There’s no movement. She knocks again, harder, the impact aching a little through her finger joints. She shivers under her clothes. The apartment building hums with the lackluster attempt at heat it tries to relieve the hallways with. Still no movement. She knocks again. It hurts this time. Her heart pounds in her chest. She feels so little standing here. A bag in arm for her girlfriend, who will not or cannot find the strength to get up and unlock the door for her.

The knob starts to jiggle. Paige’s heart skips a beat out of anxiety. She almost squints down at it. The Trader Joe’s bag feels heavy in her grip. She’s scared. Her hands are sweaty. She misses her girl. She watches as the knob rattles slightly, then twists, and then is pulled with the entire door as the gap between the door and the frame opens up like a dark mouth.

Paige looks up. Her eyes feel a little wide on her face. She waits as the crack in the door widens, as a figure starts to take shape within it. The figure is clad in a crewneck and pajama pants. Paige recognizes the pants as her own. Something in her chest aches. She looks up, towards the face, tracing the round cheeks and sharp chin and puffy eyes of the girl in front of her. The dull ache of her being clothed in Paige’s wardrobe is replaced with the sting of the way Azzi looks in front of her.

She looks deeply tired. Bone-deep, like her body is grieving what it was like to feel alive. Her eyes are sunken and the skin around them is almost swollen and she looks so pale, the shining gold of her skin a muted coffee color now. Her hair is in a fraying bun gathered up at the crown of her head. Paige softens so wholly she’s surprised her face doesn’t find a way to melt and permanently harden with the draw of her brows in concern.

Azzi’s brows furrow a little. “Paige?” Her voice is raspy, tired like her appearance, eyes dull as she looks at her. The only shine to them is what Paige thinks is the threat of tears, which only freaks her out a little more. Her grip on the bag tightens again. She swallows and looks at the girl she loves with her entire life, all freshly twenty years of it, and forces words out of her mouth.

“Hi, Az,” she says. It’s so soft she’s surprised it doesn’t wobble. She looks down from Azzi’s weary face and to the bag in her hands. “I, um. Haven’t seen you in a little, figured you were…not feeling well. So I brought some things for you. And I was hoping we could, like, I dunno. Hang out or something?”

She looks up again. Azzi is just looking at her. The lines under her eyes press a darkness into her skin that looks almost like a bruise. “Oh,” she says quietly. Paige stands in her doorway for a few moments longer. Her heart hammers in her chest. Azzi is frozen for a moment longer before she’s stepping back, pulling the door open with her. “Um…come in.”

Paige steps inside. Something in her settles a little at being invited in, but Azzi’s dryness worries her still. She bites the inside of her check as she kicks her shoes off next to the door. Azzi shuts the door softly. The silence of her apartment is almost unsettling. All of the lights are off. The only light is what dying light of the sun can stream in, can reflect off of the snow blanketing the ground and bounce back in.

She’s worried. She turns around, bag still in hand, looking at Azzi. She’s standing dumbly by the door. She looks almost lost. Her eyes are so sunken. Paige tries not to react negatively to her appearance in fear of chasing her off, her girlfriend a stray animal she’s trying to get close enough to help in this moment. “Are your roommates here?”

Azzi wraps her arms across her stomach. “No,” she answers, word simple and quiet. Paige walks farther into the apartment to set the bag down on the kitchen counter. Azzi follows with nearly silent footsteps. Paige can sense her behind her and tries to use the fact that Azzi is staying near her to comfort herself a little.

She peers into the bag. “I got you some stuff, if you wanna look through it,” she says, scanning each item with her eyes as if she’s worried they’ve disappeared. The bag of Azzi’s favorite popcorn. The container of good chocolates. The nice candle. The perfume she’s been eyeing recently that Paige had just saved up enough money to buy for her a few weeks ago. The flowers, white lilies with pink splashed along the petals, beautiful and lively even in the dead of winter. 

She looks up at Azzi, who is silently standing a few feet away. Frowns a little at her. Azzi doesn’t react. “Are you doin’ okay?” Paige’s voice is almost husky. She’s scared to ask the question, even more scared of the response. She just wants Azzi to be okay. She wants Azzi to bound over and dig through the bag and beam at Paige and thank her and kiss her like she knows she usually would.

Azzi’s arms stay wrapped around her midsection. She blinks at Paige and it’s slow, lashes bare and skin looking dull. “Yeah. Just…tired.” She says it quietly. She’s being so quiet. Paige hates it. Something in her chest twists and it’s ugly. She’s scared for Azzi.

She blinks at her. Azzi stares back. They’re silent, so silent it’s awkward, so silent it hurts. Paige swallows and it burns going down like accepting that Azzi is acting like this is a shot she’s just taken. “That’s all?”

Azzi nods once. A curl straying from the bun bounces a little near the top of her ear. It’s frizzy. “Yeah. I’m just sick of being around other people. I’m just tired and spending time alone.” This burns even more to hear. Azzi is sick of being around other people. Azzi wants to be alone. Paige has an extremely hard time believing that this is actually the truth, but she doesn’t think that knowing that she’s lying is much better; she’s shutting Paige out on purpose.

Paige swallows. She steps away from the counter, closer to Azzi, closer to the door. Her chest hurts. She watches Azzi’s face for a few moments. It doesn’t change. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, Azzi,” she says, voice soft as it comes out of her mouth.

Something in Azzi’s face finally shifts. It’s a short drawing of her brows, a change so small anyone else would have missed it. But it’s Paige watching her. She’s had her face memorized for years. She notices the little shift and catalogues the way it makes her face just a little bit sadder. “I want you to leave,” she whispers. And Paige knows she was the one to ask, but to hear a confirmation is different than asking if there is one.

It hurts more than Paige knows it should. “Okay.” The word is blurted out. Her gut starts to curdle, face and chest burning. Her lips wobble a little and she bites them together as she starts to walk past Azzi and back to the front door. “Um, I need the bag back, so I just…Like, it’s my only reusable one, so if you could just get it back to me eventually, I’d appreciate that.” Her voice wavers a little. She will not cry. This isn’t about her. She will not cry.

Azzi says nothing. Paige feels her watch as she steps past her, careful to leave a few feet of distance between them, and then rounds the corner to get to the front door again. She kneels to untie her shoes and slip them on. Her eyes sting. She bites the inside of her cheek. Azzi stays in the kitchen, silent, probably unmoving.

Paige just feels stupid. She only wanted to help. Azzi doesn’t want her help. She wants to be left alone, and Paige loves her too much to be able to even tell. Her fingers fumble with the laces as she starts trying to put her shoes back on in silence. Every part of her body is burning with hurt. She can tell Azzi isn’t okay. She just wants her girl to be okay again.

It’s as she’s lacing her second shoe up that she hears it: footsteps, clearly belonging to Azzi, a little louder than her earlier ones were and a little faster as well. Almost panicked. Paige is glancing up to look at the corner she knows Azzi will turn to leave the kitchen before she’s even there. Something swells in her chest. Hope, maybe. Or maybe just more worry.

Azzi rounds the corner and stops. She stands there, looking down at Paige where she’s knelt to tie her shoes, with wide eyes and a quivering lip. Her eyes are glassed over. Worry spikes itself into Paige, who immediately abandons her shoe laces in favor of staring back at Azzi with furrowed brows. “Wait, Paige,” Azzi says, voice a little wet, and Paige immediately stands up to be level with her. Azzi’s arms unwrap from around herself. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice cracking.

Something within Paige shatters at the way she’s just turned so desperate in front of her. She frowns softly at her, taking in the wetness of her eyes and the downward drag of her lips and the way her entire body looks almost sickly with sadness. She takes a single step towards Azzi. Her arms lift off of her sides. And this is all Azzi needs, because she’s immediately crashing into Paige and wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face into the crook of her neck and starting to sob into her.

Paige won’t lie and say she’s not a little shocked by the reaction. But it’s a real display of emotion, and that’s more than Azzi’s given her in over a week, and so she just immediately wraps her arms around her and hugs her back and lets her cry. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,” Azzi says into her collar. It’s repeated like a prayer, like she can manifest it into being reality if she says it enough times.

“I won’t, ‘m right here, ‘m not going,” Paige murmurs, her grip on Azzi tightening a little. Azzi is leaning so far into her that she’s almost proud of herself for staying upright. She’s sobbing into her hoodie and the sound of it makes Paige sick for her. It’s ragged and raw in a way that makes it clear this has been building up for a while. That Paige was right in thinking she needed comfort, that she was right in thinking something was wrong.

Her own eyes sting at the feeling of Azzi crying so hard into her. She ignores the feeling and starts gently rubbing one hand up and down her spine, feeling the knobs of the bones through her crewneck. Azzi’s hands fist at the back of her hoodie as if to hold her more in place. “‘m so sorry,” Azzi says into her. It’s so ragged Paige is surprised she doesn’t gag after saying it.

“Stop it, don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Breathe, breathe,” she says softly, hand still smoothing a soft and predictable pattern into her back. Azzi all but chokes on her next inhale in an attempt to slow it down. More worry finds Paige, who tries not to start panicking at just how hard she’s crying. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re allowed to cry. I just need you to breathe, ‘cause I need you to tell me what’s up. But it’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

And Azzi does. They stand there for a long time, Azzi crying into her neck and gripping her hoodie and slumping into Paige’s front like it takes too much energy to hold herself up. And Paige lets her. She continues to rub her back and mumble soft words in her ear and pretend her entire body isn’t short circuiting with worry as she waits for Azzi to calm down enough to tell her why she’s sobbing this hard. Her hoodie is soaked with Azzi’s tears. Paige doesn’t care.

It takes her a while before the sobbing is reduced only to sniffling, when the sharp and gasping breaths she’d have to take every few moments turn to just shaky sighs. She stays gripping Paige tightly the entire time. Her head doesn’t move. Paige doesn’t try to get her to move. She’s fine with standing here, Azzi shriveled and slumped against her.

Paige only starts trying to move them when Azzi’s breathing becomes mostly even and Paige can feel her start to sway on her feet. “You’re bouta fall asleep standing up, sweet girl,” she murmurs close to Azzi’s ear, voice low and loving. Her hand is still rubbing gently up and down her back. Azzi shivers a little against her. Paige tries not to frown too hard.

A shuddering exhale. Her breath is warm on the cool, damp fabric of Paige’s hoodie. Her fingers loosen their grip on her slightly. Paige takes it as a good sign. “Can we lay down? I’m- I wanna go to bed.” Her voice cracks a little. It’s dry and scratchy in her throat, her dehydration audible.

Paige cranes her head forward a little and tilts it to the side so her cheek presses against Azzi’s hair, curls trying to tickle her skin from where they sit gathered on her scalp. “You need water before we go to bed. You just cried so much. I can get you a glass of water while you go lay down.” She squeezes her a little in an attempt at physical reassurance.

Azzi pauses for a moment. Then she sniffles, the sound quiet but still so miserable, Paige finding it harder and harder to not just sink to the floor with the sadness she holds for the girl she holds. “I don’t- Can I just come with? I don’t wanna be alone.”

Hearing this breaks Paige in a way different than before. She doesn’t want to be alone. She’s been forcing herself away from people this entire time and it isn’t even what she actually wanted. “Yeah, of course,” Paige answers immediately, her voice still low.

Azzi sniffles again. “I’m so gross,” she says miserably, a pathetic half-laugh following the comment.

Paige’s entire body aches at the way Azzi talks about herself. “You’re not gross. You’re my baby.” She murmurs the words to Azzi immediately, who just inhales again, the sound shuddering. She sounds so upset. Paige feels almost physically sick. “D’you wanna shower before bed?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers. Her voice is scratchy even on the single word. Paige hums softly, arms still around her, presence hopefully nothing pressuring and only something comforting. Azzi clears her throat a little into Paige’s chest. “I- but I don’t wanna be alone.” Her voice wobbles again. She can’t tell what’s more pathetic: the way Azzi sounds or the way Paige immediately folds at the way she sounds, her own chest hurting with sympathy.

She’s quiet for a moment against Azzi. “I…Like, if it’s cool with you, I can shower with you. Help you ‘n stuff, ‘cause you’re so tired.” Her hand stills against Azzi’s back, arm no longer moving, but she starts to trace gentle shapes with her nail into her skin. Loops, circles. A heart. Anything to distract herself and keep herself from crying.

Azzi nods into her. “Yeah. Yes, please,” she mumbles, and Paige is grateful she wasn’t even given time to overthink her offering of support this time. She hums again and it vibrates low in her chest against Azzi. Azzi sighs softly. They’re hurt for a few moments. “Promise you won’t think I’m gross?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. It’s wavering.

“Azzi,” Paige breathes. The words feel a little bit like a gut punch. She tightens her arms around her again. Azzi shivers and the frailness of her body is so foreign that Paige doesn’t know what to do other than hold her. “Nothing you could ever do could make me think you’re gross. I’m, like, literally obsessed with you. You know that, right? That’s why I’m here. That’s why I noticed you’ve been off for a week and I went and bought you a bunch of stuff and came to help.”

Azzi exhales against her. It’s shaky. “You got me such good stuff. You shouldn’t have. The perfume,” she says, voice pitching up at the end with the threat of more tears. Her chest shudders a little with another wet and pathetic laugh. Paige purses her lips and leans her head down to press a soft kiss against her shoulder through the fabric of her crewneck. “Stop it. It’s gonna hurt my eyes so bad to cry again.” Her voice cracks with it.

“Then don’t cry, c’mon. I’ll fill up some water for you and then we’ll shower and go to bed. And maybe talk a little before bed? Or after?” Paige brings her head back up so her cheek is against Azzi’s head. The touch is little, contact so insignificant, but it makes her feel like she’s doing a better job of comforting Azzi anyway. It feels nice to be slightly knocking her own head against Azzi’s.

Azzi breathes out again and it’s shuddering and closer to tears than her previous one had been. Paige looks down at the shoulder of Azzi’s crewneck. There’s a sadness in the downwards direction of them. “You…Like, would you stay the night?” Azzi’s question is a little wet. She’s starting to cry again.

Paige coos wordlessly. “Of course,” she says softly, rubbing her hand up and down Azzi’s back once as if to warm some happiness into her through her spine. Azzi just nods against her. The movement feels sticky with her tears and the tightness of salt dried against skin on her face. “Let’s go to the kitchen, okay?” She turns to the side and cranes her head back a little so she can press a kiss against the side of Azzi’s head. Azzi hums quietly against her.

Their unpeeling to get to the kitchen is unceremonious and more than a little pathetic. Paige tries hard not to let her pity write itself too loudly over her face as she feels Azzi part from her with puffy skin and red eyes and a lip that quivers even when her tears have run out. Paige watches her wipe at her under eyes with the sleeves of her top.

She says nothing in fear of the words that come out being too soft, mush that will do nothing but chase Azzi off again, instead looking at her with what she hopes is nothing but affection and a little bit of sadness and linking her arm with Azzi’s when one of them drops from rubbing at her face. Azzi lets her connect them, lets herself get dragged to the kitchen, stands and leans against the counter and watches as Paige grabs a glass and stands at the fridge to fill it up.

Azzi’s eyes on her don’t feel at all prying, which she thinks is a little out of the ordinary. Paige hates being watched. It’s different with Azzi, though, as most things are. She just feels a little nervous in the same way she always is around her, forever sick with butterflies in the heat of her love for Azzi. The water is cold in her grip. She walks towards Azzi and silently holds it out to her, ice cubes clinking quietly against the glass.

Azzi takes it from her. Their fingers brush and Paige watches her as she lowers her puffy eyes to look at the glass and raise it to her lips. She looks away when she starts to drink from it in fear of making her at all uncomfortable, because she’s scared she won’t drink enough water if Paige is staring at her as she does so. The soft sound of her throat slipping to swallow the water and the gentle hum of the heater is all the noise that finds them.

The clink of glass against a wooden counter. Paige looks up again. The water is over halfway gone. Azzi looks at her almost blankly. She raises a hand to wipe her upper lip with the back of it. “Not thirsty anymore?” Azzi shakes her head. Paige nods once, satisfied. She leans forward to take the glass back off of the counter. “I’ll fill it up again for later.” Azzi silently watches her fill it up again.

When she’s done, Paige steps towards Azzi again and holds out her hand. Azzi doesn’t even look down at it. She just reaches up and takes it, fingers finding the space between her knuckles to sit, palm cold and almost clammy against Paige’s own. She doesn’t care. She squeezes Azzi’s hand once, soft and comforting, and then starts walking again to lead them to Azzi’s room. Azzi walks with her.

Her room is a mess. This is another sign to Paige that Azzi really has been having a hard time, because it doesn’t look at all like the organized chaos she’ll let herself live in for a few days before forcing herself to tidy up. This just looks like piles of clothes and an overflowing trash can and stacks of crumpled paper and open textbooks sitting on every free surface. “I’m sorry,” Azzi mumbles as they walk in.

Paige’s grip on her hand tightens. “No, don’t be.” She steps over a particularly large island of dirty clothing on her floor and nearly slips when she almost lands on a stray sandal. Azzi sighs softly from behind her. “Dude, my room is prolly worse than this.” This drags a singular, slightly amused exhale from Azzi. And it’s not much, but Paige will take it.

They reach Azzi’s bed and Paige sets the water down on her nightstand. Tissues and an empty water bottle and a few protein bar wrappers liter the surface. She doesn’t mention it. She simply turns around after making sure the glass is settled to look at Azzi again. Azzi looks back at her.

There’s a softness that has settled itself between them that Paige knows she’s going to try to keep for the rest of their day. The evening is already trying to settle into night and she knows Azzi isn’t long for consciousness. She wants to keep the last few hours she’ll spend awake nicer than the ones she had spent without Paige. “You already got towels in the bathroom, right?” Azzi nods. “Okay, let’s go shower, then,” she says, starting to move them both back towards the door out of Azzi’s room.

Their bare feet are quiet against the hallway as they pass through it to the bathroom. Paige flips the light on and a singular warm bulb splashes down on them, lighting the mirror and shining along the sink countertop and going dull against the shower curtain. The door shuts softly behind them. Azzi stands shyly in front of it. Their hands part as Paige reaches to turn the water on and let it warm up. Azzi’s head drops a little.

The water starts to patter against the tile floor. When Paige withdraws from the shower curtain, she sees Azzi has moved to look through the cabinet under the sink. There are a few shower caddies sitting in there and Azzi reaches to pull out a baby pink one, the bottles of product rattling a little against the plastic. It feels domestic.

Paige pulls her hoodie off over her head and lets it drop to the floor in the farthest corner from the shower. Azzi turns and watches her for a few moments, quiet, and then starts to undress herself as well, both of them silent. The showering of water and the rustling of clothing are the only sounds. Goosebumps raise along Paige’s skin when she’s left in only her sports bra and boxers. Azzi has the same soft peaks drawn along her body when she’s left in her underclothing as well.

They’ve been naked in front of each other before. They’ve had sex a few times since the beginning of their relationship, and even before that, they had learned it was incredibly hard to not see your best friend naked at least once if you were constantly changing in front of each other in locker rooms or shared hotel rooms or bedrooms. But this still feels so intimate, for Paige to start peeling her bra away from her chest and for Azzi to hook her fingers under the band of her underwear. The water heats quicker than Paige thinks it would in her apartment. Steam starts trying to crawl along the ceiling.

When they’re both naked, they just stand there in the soft light of the overhead bulb, streaked with the warmth of it. Azzi reaches up to untie her hair. Paige’s is already down in soft waves. She ties hers up, not wanting to wash it, using a hair tie on her wrist to pull it into a messy bun that mimics the one Azzi had just taken off of her own head.

Her mouth goes a little dry at the sight of Azzi bare in front of her, because even though she doesn’t feel any lust in this moment, she can’t help but feel a little fuzzy at her beauty. At the soft curve of her breasts, the give of her waist, the way her hips have started to grow fuller and her thighs more muscular. She looks down at her feet and swallows. The water keeps pattering.

They silently agree to step in after a while. The water is by no means hot, but it’s close enough to it to be comfortable, and so Paige doesn’t mind at all when it starts to find her skin and drip down her. Azzi steps right under the stream and closes her eyes and wraps her arms around her midsection. The shower caddy sits on the floor in the corner. Paige takes a step towards it.

“Can I…” She starts, and then cuts herself off by reaching down to grab the container of shampoo and hold it up towards Azzi. Azzi leans her head back and cracks one eye open. Water beads along her lashes, runs in streams down her face. She nods once and returns to under the water. Paige flips the cap up and squirts what she hopes is enough shampoo into the palm of her hand.

Azzi is soaked when Paige steps up behind her. Her curls absorb the water like they’ve been thirsty for a while now. Paige doesn’t doubt that they have been. Droplets of water run off of their ends, run down Azzi’s bare back, drip off of the corners of her elbows. “‘m gonna put some shampoo in your hair,” she says quietly, and Azzi steps back a little into her so her head isn’t directly underneath the water anymore. She tips her head back slightly. Paige raises her hands.

She’s a little surprised to learn that washing Azzi’s hair is probably as relaxing for her as it is for Azzi. She likes scratching her nails along Azzi’s scalp, likes trying to run her fingers gently through her tangled hair, likes watching the product sud up in her dark curls. Azzi stays silent in front of her. She sighs every once in a while. It makes Paige warm.

“Turn and put your hair under the water,” she murmurs after a little while, and Azzi hums softly and then follows Paige’s directions and turns so her hair is getting hit with the spray of water again. Paige gently moves her hands through Azzi’s hair to comb any lingering suds out. She watches as the water runs through her hair, as little bubbles of shampoo run the water white until it’s clean.

Azzi sighs softly again. Paige watches the clear water run through her hair for a few more moments until placing a hand gently on the small of her back and moving her out of the water. “I usually double cleanse. Like, shampoo twice on my scalp.” Her voice is quiet. It wisps out of her mouth like the slight steam that has collected within the shower.

“Got it.” Paige moves towards the shower caddy again. Her skin is wet and her scalp is dry. Water droplets plunk softly into the plastic container when she reaches inside of it to grab more shampoo. It collects in the cup of her palm. “And then conditioner? Not on the scalp?” She turns around to take a step towards Azzi again.

“Yeah. Good job,” she says, and Paige can hear the slight smile in her voice. It fills her chest with something warm, something that makes her smile back at Azzi being even slightly happy. She starts to massage the shampoo into her scalp again. It suds up better this time, the soft noise of the little bubbles being worked through her wet hair almost crunchy over the sound of the water. “I usually detangle it with the conditioner in, too, so if you could grab the brush when you get conditioner, I can do that,” she says as Paige washes the second round of shampoo out of her hair.

Paige hums quietly. “I’ll do it. Unless you don’t want me to. I’ll be really gentle.” The water starts to run clear through her hair again. The shampoo is gone. Paige pushes her out of the way of the water again and steps to grab the conditioner and the detangling brush sitting in the caddy.

“Thank you,” Azzi mumbles at Paige’s back as she squeezes conditioner into the palm of her hand. Paige just hums again. She steps up behind Azzi and starts to smooth the product into the body of her hair, curls soaking it up like it’s a salve. The shower patters like rain in front of them. When the product is gone from Paige’s hand and her hair is shining a little with the amount of conditioner in it, Paige raises the brush and starts to gently run it through her hair.

It’s tangled. She knew it would be and is still a little surprised. She must not have washed or brushed it in a while. She knows it should be something that raises at least a little bit of disgust in her, but it can’t. Sympathy is all she finds, frowning softly as she picks knots out of her curls. Azzi’s breathing is even into the warmth of the shower. Paige tries her best to be as efficient and careful as possible.

“Wait, let me get my razor and my body wash so I can do that while you brush my hair,” Azzi says after a little while. Paige hums and drops the tangle she had been working on. She watches as Azzi, with shining skin and shining hair and a body she thinks moves just a little surer than it had when Paige had first come to visit, leans down and grabs what she needs before stepping back to Paige.

They work in tandem. It’s nice. Azzi’s shoulders roll as she shaves her underarms and rubs body wash into the skin all over her body. Paige hits her stride and starts detangling Azzi’s hair quicker. The shapes of her curls start to appear through the wet mess of knots. She looks like she’s becoming revived. It makes Paige feel better.

The brush goes back in the caddy. So does the razor. “D’you wanna wash your body? You’re already all wet.” Azzi holds the body wash out to Paige, who shrugs and takes it from her. It’s wet and slippery and she almost drops it.

“Sure. I’ll smell like you.” She looks up and smiles at Azzi as she says it, squeezing some out into her hand. Azzi laughs softly and rolls her eyes a little. Paige grins triumphantly at the sound and starts to wash her skin with Azzi’s body wash.

“Aw, I can give you some of my lotion, too,” Azzi says after a few moments. Paige looks up from where she’s washing her legs and smiles widely at her. She can feel that her gums are revealed, but she doesn’t care that it’s maybe a little embarrassing that she’s cheesing this hard. “And you’ll need some of my clothes. ‘Cause yours are on the dirty floor right now.”

Paige grins. She steps into the reach of the shower, letting warm water run down her skin and wash away her body wash. “Wow, my girl really just providing for me,” she says, and Azzi laughs a little again and rolls her eyes. She steps up next to Paige and turns around to let the water start to wash the conditioner out of her hair. Paige wishes her hands weren’t busy smoothing body wash off of her skin so she could reach out and grab Azzi’s own hand.

They both agree they’re finished around the same time and shut the water off. They drip like dogs onto the floor. Paige is the one selected to step out and grab towels off of the hooks. Cold air rushes into the shower when the curtain is pulled back enough for her to reach them. Azzi grunts and Paige laughs quietly at the noise. When she turns around, Azzi rolls her eyes at her, a small smile still on her face.

They wrap themselves in their towels and then stand in front of the mirror, shivering a little. Azzi’s shower caddy goes back under the sink. Her lotion and hair products are brought out and littered along the counter top. They take turns pumping the lotion into their hands to rub along their bodies. “We should’ve remembered to bring clothes in from my room,” Azzi mumbles as she’s rubbing a hand against her sternum. Paige hums, standing bare next to her. “I’ll go grab some. Real quick.” She covers herself with her towel again and leaves.

Paige stands almost awkwardly in front of the mirror. When Azzi returns, she’s in sweatpants and a hoodie and holding what Paige believes to be a matching outfit for her, complete with a pair of Azzi’s boxers. “Thanks,” Paige says, smiling at her as she takes the clothing. She puts it on while Azzi starts to spray and comb different products into her curls. 

Paige feels warm and nice when she’s fully dressed in Azzi’s clothing and her skin is shining with her products. “‘m so tired,” Azzi mumbles as she tries to reach her nice curl brush around to the back of her head. The curls on the sides of her face look defined and shiny because she’s been able to get them with the brush. The back is yet to receive the same treatment.

Paige steps up behind her. She raises a hand almost cautiously, hovering over where she holds the brush, looking to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “D’you want me to do it? Let’s just go to your room and I’ll finish it while we sit in bed.” Azzi meets her eye. Hers are tired. Dark circles smear the skin under them and leave them hooded and still a little puffy.

She sighs. “I hate going to bed with wet hair,” she mumbles, but she lowers her hand anyway, brush coming to rest against her side as she stares into the mirror. Paige steps up behind her. Her hair is wet and it hangs down her back, but she doesn’t care. She presses her front into Azzi’s back and settles her chin on her shoulder and wraps her arms around her midsection.

Azzi almost immediately sinks into the touch. Paige can feel her weight shifting to settle against Paige’s own body, her wet hair pressing against the collar of her hoodie, entire being warm even through her fatigue. Paige looks at them both through the mirror for a few seconds, at their shining skin and Azzi’s dark hair and the way they’re so easily pressed against each other. She turns her head to the side so her mouth is by Azzi’s jaw. “‘m sorry, baby. But I don’t really think you want me trying to diffuse it.” She punctuates the apology with a soft kiss to the bottom of her cheek.

Azzi sighs. “Yeah.” Paige presses another kiss against her cheek and then looks forward again. Azzi is still looking at her with soft doe eyes and fresh skin. She’s so beautiful. Paige feels herself go a little warm looking at her, because even when she’s upset and struggling and Paige’s entire body feels sick with the desire to help her, she’s gorgeous. She kisses her cheek again. “Okay, let’s go, ‘cause I really wanna get in bed.” Azzi starts moving in Paige’s arms. Paige smiles a little at her through the mirror, letting go of her so they can walk to Azzi’s room.

The apartment is quiet around them. They pass through the hall again and then make their way through the mess of Azzi’s floor. Paige says nothing about it. Azzi doesn’t, either, and Paige thinks it’s better this way. They get to the bed and both sit down, Paige behind Azzi. The brush has divots in the side for each curl to pass through. She’s careful as she begins to run it through her hair, trying to make sure they look somewhat uniform.

It’s relaxing. She thinks Azzi likes it, too, because they’re both silent for a long while. Paige takes her time as she brushes through the curls. She’s grateful they had detangled them in the shower, because there’s no knots for her to accidentally tug on as she works on the back of Azzi’s head.

She can tell it’s making Azzi sleepy. She can tell, a few minutes after she had already finished the work to the best of her ability and had started just gently redoing certain sections to let Azzi still feel relaxed, that she’s starting to sway while sitting down because she’s about to fall asleep. “It doesn’t really matter if they’re perfect or not. ‘m going to bed with wet hair anyway, they’re gonna be messed up in the morning. I just wanted them to be a little defined so I could do a ponytail or something.”

“Okay, yeah,” Paige murmurs. She finishes the little section she was redoing for probably the third time and then lets her curls hang damp against her back, moving to put the brush on the bedside table. Azzi sighs softly. “I think you’re good. Let’s cuddle.” She moves around Azzi to start laying down. Azzi comes with her, sheets crinkling, blankets shifting as they move to get comfortable together.

Paige lays on her back. Azzi curls into her side, Paige’s arm where she rests her head, her own arm thrown over Paige. Their legs tangle. Their body heat collects under the covers and Paige feels herself going fuzzy with a want for sleep as they press together. It’s nice and comfortable. The chill of Azzi’s wet hair presses itself through her sleeve and chest. She doesn’t care. She just holds her tighter.

The hum of the heater fills the space between them like the light dropping of sand. Paige’s voice is something bigger to take up that gap, a large pearl placed as both an offering of peace and of continued conversation. “Can…we talk? What’s up? You’ve been kinda worrying me recently, I dunno,” she murmurs, turning her head to the side so her chin can rest on top of Azzi’s head. Her hair tickles a little.

They’re quiet again. Azzi sighs and it shudders like she’s already fighting tears. She speaks after a few moments. “I just…I get like this every year. Seasonal depression or whatever. It’s been happening since, like, middle school, and we tried getting me to a therapist for a while, but, like…it just helps when someone else helps me. And usually that person’s my mom.” Paige frowns. Azzi shifts a little, trying to press more of her body against Paige, throw more of her limbs over the stretch of her body. “So I just, like…I’m stressed about school, and about basketball, and my foot, and I’m really sad all the time, and I just…I miss my mom,” she whispers.

Paige’s hand finds Azzi’s shoulder. Her fingernails start dragging along the fabric there, fingers opening and contracting, a gentle touch she hopes Azzi can feel the affection and care of. “I’m so sorry, Azzi,” she says softly. Azzi sighs again and it shakes the same way her earlier one did. “We can call her, if you want,” she offers.

Azzi’s quiet again. She shivers a little against Paige, who thinks that if there was a way to allow Azzi to crawl into her skin, she’d let her. “Maybe later tomorrow,” she eventually mumbles against Paige’s chest. Paige hums softly. She can feel her body vibrating a little against Azzi with the sound. Her fingers continue to drag soft comfort against her shoulder.

They stay quiet for a few more minutes. Azzi’s breathing starts to even out, body limp against Paige’s. She still doesn’t like how small she feels against her, how even relaxed, it feels like she’s curling in on herself. But she knows one shower and a few minutes of laying down won’t cure her of her sadness. “Tell me how to help. And I’ll do it. I just wanna help you, I’ll literally do anything.” Paige’s voice is so quiet it barely breaks the silence. Just wavers it like the wobble of a sheet of metal.

Azzi says nothing. For a few moments, Paige thinks she’s asleep. Her body is still against hers, save for the soft up and down of her chest as she breathes. Paige’s eyelids flutter as they try to shut themselves. “I can’t,” Azzi eventually whispers. The words are so small, like leaves in the wind, that Paige barely hears them.

“What?” Her fingers momentarily pause against her shoulder. Her brows furrow a little. Azzi doesn’t elaborate. “Azzi. Baby. Tell me how to help.” Her little finger movements resume as if to encourage her to answer. Azzi inhales and her lungs catch on it a few times like breathing in all the way is a ladder they have to scale. She exhales and it scatters across Paige’s chest.

They’re quiet again. “No, like, you don’t get it,” Azzi mumbles. Paige holds her breath. Azzi’s voice is so quiet that she’s worried she won’t hear it over the sound of her own breathing, of Azzi’s breathing, of the faint hum of the heater. “You already figured out how to help. You’re already- I can’t ask for anything more, ‘cause this is literally all I need. You already knew.”

Paige blinks. “Oh,” she says dumbly. Azzi sighs against her again. Paige angles her eyes down at herself, at the way Azzi is completely pressing herself into Paige, at the way they’re so tangled under the covers. She feels herself start to warm with a happiness that feels almost like pride. She’s already doing the right things. “So…if I buy you some food and flowers ‘n stuff, and then wash your hair, and then we cuddle, you’ll…Like, that will help you?”

“Yeah. You’re taking care of me. You’re making me feel better.” Paige’s face splits open with the softest, rawest smile she thinks she’s ever worn. She blinks up from the other girl and towards the ceiling, warmed with the knowledge that she knows how to make Azzi feel better. “I really appreciate it. You don’t…have to.”

“Yes, I do. You’re my girlfriend. I’m supposed to take care of you.” Her response is immediate. She looks down again as she says it, hoping Azzi can tell how much she means it. She can’t see Azzi’s face. Just the soft shape of her curls through the dark, the slopes and curves of her body beneath the covers. The gentle movement of her chest with every breath as she stays living against Paige, who thinks she might burst with all her affection.

Silence for a moment. Paige thinks that might be the end of it. That they’re both so close to the edge of sleep that they won’t speak again until the morning is reaching prying hands in through the windows and shaking them awake. “Okay,” Azzi whispers after a while. Paige’s lips curve a little into a small smile at just the sound of her voice. “Well. Thank you, P.”

Paige gently purses her lips and knocks her head to the side. Her lips find the top of Azzi’s head and are able to just barely brush there, hair tickling her face, eyes sleepy where they lay together. Azzi hums so quietly Paige almost misses it. “Of course. It’s bed time now. G’night. Sleep well.” The words press themselves into Azzi’s hair.