I only see daylight - Daniela Avanzini x fem!reader
The strange thing about almosts is that sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, they don’t stay almosts forever.
The room is quiet except for the soft sound of tape pulling from cardboard boxes as Daniela seals another one near the door. Most of her things are already packed away, leaving the dorm strangely empty, stripped of all the little pieces of her that used to fill every corner so naturally.
You sit on your bed watching her move around the room, and the thought hits you so suddenly it almost steals the air from your lungs.
Tomorrow, she’ll leave. And if you let her walk out that door like this, if you let another moment pass in silence, then this really will become another almost.
Another thing you’ll spend years regretting.
Daniela finishes taping the box before glancing toward you.
“I think this room is going to miss you.”
Your chest tightens instantly.
“You’re the one leaving.”
She smiles softly, but there’s sadness underneath it now, quiet and impossible to ignore.
Neither of you says anything for a moment. The silence stretches between you, familiar and dangerous, filled with all the things you’ve both spent months trying not to say.
Finally, quietly, you whisper,
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“No, I really didn’t.” Your throat tightens painfully. “That night at the party, when you told me you loved me, I just… froze.”
She looks down briefly before nodding once.
“You didn’t say anything.”
The memory still makes your chest ache, the look on her face after your silence, the way she’d tried to act unaffected even while you watched her heart break in real time.
“I think I was scared,” you admit softly. “Not of you. Never you.”
Her eyes finally meet yours again.
You laugh quietly, except there’s nothing amused about it.
The word hangs between you.
“You were my best friend,” you continue, your voice uneven now. “You were the person I loved most before I even realized I was in love with you, and suddenly if I admitted it out loud, it felt like I could lose all of it.”
Daniela’s expression softens immediately.
“You wouldn’t have lost me.”
A quiet silence settles over the room again, but this time it feels different, less fragile somehow. You stand slowly from the bed, your heartbeat loud enough to make your hands shake slightly. Daniela notices. Of course she does.
Her gaze follows you carefully as you cross the small distance between you until you’re standing close enough to see every tiny shift in her expression. Close enough to finally stop pretending.
“You said something once,” you murmur.
A faint crease appears between her brows.
“That we were good at almosts.”
A small, sad smile appears on her face.
You shake your head immediately.
“I don’t want almost anymore.”
The room goes completely still. Daniela stares at you like she isn’t sure she heard correctly. Your chest feels tight enough to crack open, but for the first time you don’t let the fear stop you.
“I’m tired of almost kissing you,” you whisper. “Almost holding your hand, almost telling you how I feel, almost choosing you.” Your voice breaks slightly. “I’ve loved you for so long, Daniela.”
The breath leaves her all at once. You can actually see the moment the words reach her. The moment hope returns.
“Say that again,” she says quietly, almost like she’s scared to believe it. A soft laugh escapes you through the nerves twisting in your stomach.
Daniela closes her eyes for a second like the words physically hit her, one hand lifting to cover her mouth briefly as she exhales a shaky breath.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Something painful and relieved twists inside your chest at the same time.
“I’m sorry it took me so long.”
She shakes her head immediately.
And somehow that matters more.
For a second neither of you moves. You just stand there looking at each other with years of unfinished feelings sitting openly between you for the first time. Then Daniela laughs softly through what looks dangerously close to tears.
“We really wasted so much time.”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “We really did.”
But there’s no bitterness in it anymore. Only relief.
Daniela steps closer then, slowly enough to give you time to pull away if you want to. You don’t. Not this time.
Her hand finds yours carefully, fingers sliding between yours with the same familiarity that once destroyed you. Now it feels like being given something back.
“You know,” she murmurs softly, eyes dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes again, “I almost kissed you so many times.”
“I thought about it constantly.”
A quiet laugh escapes her.
“You saying that isn’t helping my dignity.”
“You confessed your love to me at a party.”
“You stared at me in silence for thirty seconds.”
“In my defense, I was having a crisis.”
Daniela laughs again, softer this time, and the sound fills the room so warmly it almost hurts. God, you missed this. You missed her.
The realization settles over you completely then, simple and undeniable. You don’t want a life that almost includes her. You want all of it.
Daniela’s thumb brushes gently over your knuckles as her expression softens once more.
“Can I kiss you now?” she asks quietly.
The question nearly breaks your heart all over again, because even after everything, even after months of loving you painfully and patiently, she’s still asking gently.
Still choosing softness with you.
And finally, after months of almosts, Daniela closes the distance.
The kiss is soft at first, careful in a way that makes your chest ache instantly, like both of you are still afraid the other might disappear if you move too quickly. But the second your hand reaches for her, the second she realizes you’re kissing her back just as desperately, something shifts.
All the tension. All the waiting. All the unfinished feelings. It pours into the kiss at once.
Daniela’s hands find your waist instantly, pulling you closer with a quiet sound that almost makes you melt against her completely. You can feel her smiling briefly when you kiss her harder, like she still can’t believe this is real. Neither can you.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless. Daniela rests her forehead against yours, laughing softly in disbelief.
“So,” she murmurs, “I guess we’re not almosts anymore.”
You smile before kissing her again, softer this time.
“No,” you whisper against her lips. “Not anymore.”
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