#marchapril

April had been studying perfectly peacefully before March got home from her run, bringing the early September sunshine in with her. She had been focusing, actually, getting real quantifiable work done on her project for CS 441, Artificial Intelligence. It was the first class for her major in a while that hadn’t made her want to bang her head against the wall, so she was grateful for it. She hadn’t been able to focus on it as much as she wanted to, though, because of this exact thing.

This… March thing.

As March entered the bathroom to shower, April turned up the volume on her phone, letting Bon Iver soak into her through her earbuds and drown everything else out. She had made a playlist for this mood she’d been in recently (appropriately titled “fml”), and approximately ninety percent of it was Bon Iver.

She blinked at her laptop screen, trying to make the numbers make sense again, but they refused to cooperate. She’d barely glanced at March, and yet all her brain would do is shout MARCH LOOKS HOT IN LEGGINGS AND A TANK TOP!! And, yeah, April fucking knew that, she was on the volleyball team with this girl. And lived with this girl. And was best friends with this girl. And was Not Allowed To Be In Love With This Girl.

It wasn’t just the simple fact that she loved March that was putting her in a mood. April was used to the feeling of wanting March in ways she shouldn’t, of fake smiles and lying through her teeth and being supportive even when she wanted to rip her hair out. Since March and Justin had broken up in June, though, things had been… different. March hadn’t even been sad, really, and she seemed insistent on making everything normal.

But it wasn’t normal, the tension that had built between them recently. March and April didn’t do tension. They always talked things out, no matter what was going on. Well-- April supposed she’d been keeping this all secret from March, but that was different. That was need-to-know, and she didn’t want to hurt her best friend by springing this on her right after a breakup, like she’d been waiting to pounce. April didn’t want to be the rebound. She wanted to be the endgame. And seeing as that probably wouldn’t ever happen, it hurt less to keep it to herself.

Regardless, this was the first time March had kept feelings to herself in their friendship, and it was weirding April out. It’s not like she expected March to tell her every single thought or emotion that passed through her, but March was usually an open book. She’d been stiffer, recently, sharper around the edges. She was less forgiving during pre-season practices when people made mistakes, less social and chatty, less warmly enthusiastic, less… March. It was subtle, probably invisible to most people, but it was there. And she wasn’t talking to April about whatever was wrong.

Once March was showered and changed, she flopped onto her bed across from April, toweling her hair dry.

“Hey,” she said, sounding tired. “What are you working on?”

April blinked, caught off guard by the question somehow. “Uh, project for AI class.”

March nodded, although April doubted she’d absorbed the information. She looked distracted, having towelled the same section of hair about thirty times by now. April closed her laptop and set it beside her. She might as well do the one thing she hadn’t tried yet-- ask.

“Are you okay, March?” she asked softly, trying to put as much care into the question as possible.

March’s eyes widened in surprise at first, then narrowed in confusion. “I’m fine,” she replied, her words coming out sharp and defensive.

Silence stretched out between them, prickly and pointed. March wouldn’t meet her eyes, and April was trying to figure out why asking about the state of her best friend’s mental health was such a crime. She thought for a long moment, then tried again.

“You don’t have to talk about it with me, but I know you, and I know that something is wrong. I think we both know that it’s not Justin.”

March’s head popped up reflexively at the mention of her ex’s name. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it again. “It’s not a big deal,” she muttered instead, casting her eyes away.

April felt her stomach tighten. This was the first time that March had acknowledged that anything was even going on. She didn’t know how their relationship had gotten to a point where they couldn’t talk to each other about everything in their lives, but it made her feel weird and guilty.

“I don’t like feeling like something is… not right between us,” April said, and March visibly stiffened. “Whatever it is, I just wanna talk about it. We can figure it out. We always do, right?”

March looked up at her again, her eyes full of worry and conflict. After a moment, she took a breath, seeming to steel herself, and spoke.

“Um, so. When me and Justin broke up, it was like, sad, but I felt pretty much... fine. And I had really enjoyed dating him, like, he’s a great guy, he really is. On paper, I should’ve been heartbroken. But.”

March shrugged, and April’s heart did a useless flop in her chest.

“I wasn’t,” she said, meeting April’s eyes again. “I was… relieved. And everyone kept being so nice and pitying to me, offering to watch sad movies and eat ice cream with me, and all I could think was that now I could spend so much more time with--”

The words got caught in her throat, and she exhaled and tried again. “With-- you.”

April had possibly stopped breathing. March kept on talking, gesturing anxiously with her towel, as if she hadn’t just dropped this bomb.

“And I’ve been so weird, I know I have, but I don’t-- I can’t ruin this. I can’t fuck everything up with you. You’re too important to me, and if I ever--”

April couldn’t wait any longer. She crossed the few feet of distance between them, took March’s face in her hands, and finally kissed her. She could feel March tense in surprise, but she immediately responded in kind, reaching her arms around to cradle April’s hips and push her closer. Her still-damp hair tickled April’s face, and she smelled like rosewater shampoo and tasted like her favorite cinnamon gum. They fit together so perfectly, and April couldn’t believe she’d waited this long to close the gap. She could’ve been kissing March for two and a half months.

“I love you,” April said in a rush when they broke apart. “And-- not in the way we always say we love each other. I have for… a while.”

The corner of March’s mouth quirked up in a small, fond smile. “I’m not the only one who’s been keeping things to myself.”

April felt heat rising in her cheeks, a rare occurrence for her. Everything felt dizzy and overwhelming, being close to March like this. “Shut up, you had a boyfriend.”

“And now he has a boyfriend, apparently,” March replied, and April barked out a laugh.

“I think we all saw that coming.”

They smiled dopily at each other, and after a moment March pulled April back in, resting her head against her chest. April could feel March’s wet hair starting to dampen her t-shirt, but she didn’t care.

“I missed you,” March said quietly, slightly muffled by the fabric of April’s shirt. April’s heart did another stupid flop, and she wondered how she could feel so much joy and sadness at the same time.

She drew March’s head even tighter against her chest, trying to squeeze all the love she possibly could into her touch.

“I’m right here,” she said.

And I will be as long as you’ll let me, she wanted to add, but stopped herself. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many questions to ask, so much to talk about. There’d be plenty of time for that in the future. Right now, right here, her only job was to hold the girl she loved, and she could handle that.