#burninglight

Ember imitated her. But she sure knew how to curl up for real. Thighs practically glued to her stomach.

“Do you miss Valestria?” she asked, never looking up from the two fingers under hers.

“Sometimes.” Lightara let her do it. She didn’t have any specific reaction. She kept her arm extended just enough to let the other hold her hand, and that was it.

Ember gave her a crooked smile. “Sometimes? Just sometimes? Meaning you’re starting to get attached to the dead flowers of Ethos?”

“Sure. And to the palaces made of bones. There isn’t even a draft.”

Ember laughed. She stretched her legs out a bit. “You can always go back, y'know? No one’s stopping you?”

Lightara let out a puff of air from her lips. “And leave you alone, to forget to eat and turn back into a walking little pile of bones?”

“Exaggerated. I don’t always forget to eat.” She pressed her tongue against her teeth, as if to keep the truth locked away. It came out anyway, in a stupid smile. “Just every now and then.”

“Every now and then is too much.”

They both went back to watching their fingers touch.

Ember slid her thumb along the pinky, and down, to the base of the palm. She went back up, slow. Lightara had a twitch in her wrist, barely closed her other fingers. There was a callus, right where the pinky met the hand: it created a hill that felt rough to the touch.

“Did you ever have… you know… back in Valestria…?” Ember bit the side of her tongue.

She met Lightara’s raised eyebrow. That hint of a smile full of fake judgment. “Did I ever have what?”

She took a deep breath. Parted her lips and tried again. “Did you ever have someone… important, there?” She wasn’t talking about Blue. Obviously she wasn’t talking about Blue. She hoped the other would understand, because her heart was already galloping with the word ‘idiot’ branded on it.

The silence that followed made things worse. Ember kept her thumb on the callus of the other’s hand, inspected it with her fingertip.

“I went out with a girl. Once.”

Her heart kept galloping, but it squeezed. Compressed inside a box too small, it kicked without stopping. Ember said nothing. She didn’t trust her own voice. If it trembled, she’d pass for the jealous fool she was.

Lightara sighed, and her breath reached her, brushing the bridge of her nose. “I was sixteen. It didn’t go great.” She let a few moments pass before continuing: “I made her cry.”

Ember’s head snapped up. She met the other's blue eyes, staring back at her, upside down. “You made her cry?” She couldn’t hold back a smile. Damned sadist that she was.

“She kept talking about nutrition. But she didn’t know anything about it. She talked in clichés.” Lightara scoffed. “I corrected her every time. Maybe too bluntly. In the end she burst into tears and left me there.”

Ember dug her nail into her skin. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to leave a white crescent moon. “Well, as far as being a bitch goes, you were a bitch,” she admitted.

“It’s not my fault if she was talking bullshit.”

“Can’t you correct someone without making them feel like an idiot?”

Lightara rolled her eyes. “Do you think at sixteen I had the patience to measure my words?”

“No. You don't have it now, either.”

“Exactly.” She moved her hand. Pressed her palm better against Ember’s thumb. “You don’t cry, though.”

“You don’t give me a reason to.”

“Because you’re already aware that you talk crap.”

Ember burst out laughing, a light sound, small, almost scared of being too much. She slid her palm against the other’s, until they matched. Lightara had a bigger hand, though less than she’d expected. Her fingers slid into the spaces of the other's. Lightara closed hers, and they found themselves with their hands intertwined.