#tagging as

At the age of twelve, a simple seating change in class changed the trajectory of Mira’s life forever. Because at the age of twelve, Mira became desk mates with you.

From that day onward, the two of you had been best friends, wholly inseparable.

The two of you were a match made in Heaven—or made in Hell, according to her parents and brother—you balanced each other perfectly. You always had each other’s back, protecting each other, be it from creeps, irritable teachers, or from disapproving parents.

Even if you weren’t always on the same page, started drifting in separate directions, like a rubber band you two always snapped back into place beside each other.

You had introduced Mira to bands that her parents never would have approved of. Always shared whatever new CD you got your hands on so you and Mira could listen to it together. You snuck Mira out to concerts late into the night more times than either of you could count, and were always able to find a new abandoned place to serve as hideaways where you both were free from the chains that were parental expectations.

In return, Mira introduced you to all her favorite horror movies—slasher film marathons had become a tradition between you two. She taught you how to dance. The abandoned buildings or hidden underpasses becoming a studio for you two. Mira created dance routines to go along with all the songs you shared with her, and taught them all to you.

You were terrible at dancing. Your movements were stiff and awkward; it was like you didn’t know how to move with your hips. You could do a mean Robot, but that was the extent of your skills when it came to dance.

Yet even so, even if you couldn’t match her, dancing together was some of the most fun Mira ever had.

Music was your passion first—and through you, it had become Mira’s as well.

Free time between classes was spent talking about different bands, the current idol groups and their latest songs. Lunch was spent sharing earbuds while you ate, listening to whatever song you two were obsessed with.

When you began learning to play the guitar, and Mira began directing her attention towards singing, you two became a devastating pair. You provided the music while Mira sang and dance. School talent shows never stood a chance.

But most importantly: at the age of twelve, Mira finally met someone who made her feel like she was wanted.

All those flaws of hers that her parents constantly belittled her for, the traits she was shamed for—she was too stubborn and too argumentative, too blunt to the point of rude—you took those flaws and accepted them, embraced them. You made Mira feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the problem.

It should have come to no surprise that Mira would have fallen in love with you so quickly.

A stupid, horrible crush that she kept close to her chest, because if you ever learned that, you’d leave her. Mira had known early on that she wouldn’t be able to handle rejection from you.

She was fourteen when she got her first kiss.

You two had been sprawled out on your bed, some movie playing on your laptop, a bowl of popcorn and bottled drinks between you.

Mira couldn’t even remember what triggered the conversation, only that she was lamenting how it seemed she was the only one in their class who hadn’t had a first kiss yet. “It’s not that I want a kiss, it’s just—it’s frustrating feeling like I’m being left behind.”

You had rolled onto your side, head propped up on a hand to watch her. “I mean, not everyone’s had their first kiss.”

“Have you listened to their chatting? Pretty much everyone has.”

“I haven’t.”

Mira shoved you, letting out something between a scoff and a laugh. “You liar!” because you have to be lying, there’s no way you—with a smile so bright it outshined the sun, infallibly kind and cool, the most attractive person in their entire school as far as Mira was concerned—hasn’t been kissed.

“It’s true, I haven’t!” Grinning wide, a goofy, crooked smile that showed too much teeth, you doubled down on your lie.

You were just saying that so Mira would feel better. You had to be.

Because unlike Mira, you were lovable. You were worth loving. You were the kind of person people would be climbing over each other to love.

It just wasn’t possible that you hadn’t been kissed yet.

But then you’d shifted gears, throwing in a casual comment like you were throwing a live grenade into the mix.

“What if we kissed each other?”

Mira nearly choked on her water when you’d said that. “I—what?” was her face as red as it felt? Her cheeks were burning. You hadn’t just said what she thinks you said, did you? There’s no way you were suggesting—

“I mean, then we’d be able to say we’ve had our first kiss,” you had shrugged as you said that, a kind of indifferent casual like you were talking about the weather outside and not asking Mira to kiss you.

“I—” Mira stammered, trying to find her words, her brain stuttering like a glitched audio file. How was she even supposed to respond to that suggestion?

She’s kissed you before plenty of times, and you the same. But those had always been pecks on the cheeks or a kiss to the forehead, sometimes when they were feeling silly, one would drop to the knee and kiss the back of the other’s hand. Those had always been—what you were suggesting was a kiss kiss.

You watched her, and you must have taken it as a rejection because you’d begun turning your attention back to the laptop, “If you don’t wanna, then that’s cool. It was just a suggestion—”

“No!”

Mira’s face was definitely red now, reeling back from her own outburst, shrinking in on herself when your eyes fell on her. “I, I mean—I do want to. Kiss you, I mean—” was there a shovel nearby so she could start digging her hole? “—I mean, like you said, that way we’d be able to get it out of the way, right? It just makes sense.”

She was an idiot. You were going to laugh at her. She never should have opened her mouth—

Your hand was on her cheek, lifting Mira’s head to face you once more. Your thumb traced light figures over her cheek, gently jostling her glasses each time your knuckle bumped the rims.

Leaning in closer, your forehead pressed to hers with a light tap, your eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her own wide and wavering gaze. “Are you sure?” your asked in a hushed voice.

Heart beating so quickly, so loudly, Mira wasn’t sure if she was even capable of forming words, and so she could only nod.

You smiled—that damnable smile, sunlight personified—and leaned in closer. Mira’s heart threatened to explode in her chest when she felt the warmth of your breath, she couldn’t believe this was really happening. Was this a dream? Please, don’t let her wake up if it were.

Her eyes drifted shut just as your lips lightly brushed her own.

It was quick, barely there, and Mira had been about to protest—but then you were kissing her again.

It was still an innocent kiss, off-kilter and filled with their inexperience. But the anxiety Mira had been starting to feel was replaced with the warmth of your lips. She loved this, she didn’t think she’d ever have enough.

But then you pulled away.

Your cheeks were tinged red, and you had that crooked grin of yours as you let out a soft laugh. “There, now we both can say we’ve been kissed before.

As you turned your attention back to the movie playing on the laptop, Mira continued to stare. The feeling of your mouth on hers lingered, and her heart began to ache. Right—this was just a practice kiss between friends.

Nothing more.

You were getting a love confession.

Mira watched it from the upper windows of the school along with the rest of the audience that she was sure you didn’t know about. The audience she would warn you of if she were a better person.

She wasn’t a better person.

Neither of you were strangers to love letters or abrupt confessions. Mira knew she was pretty, pretty enough that people could overlook her abrasive personality, and you—well, she was probably the worst person to ask because of biases—she was still adamant that you were the most attractive person in their class.

Not just class; in the entire academy.

So this scene wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary for either of you, and yet it still drew a crowd of onlookers.

The girl who’d brought you out here to talk was from a different class. Mira only vaguely recognized her, but she could tell even from here that the girl was pretty. She had something of a timid air to her, a shyness that made some people want to protect.

Her voice was too soft to hear from up here, but yours carried well against the concrete of the academy building. “I can’t,” you told her, and Mira felt the tension in her gut begin to uncoil—but only for a moment, because then you followed it with, “I’m kind of seeing someone already.”

The floor slips out from under Mira, she only faintly felt someone grabbing her by the arm before she could fall out the window and meet her untimely demise at your feet.

Someone else leaned in close on her other side and whispered, “They’re taken? Did you know?”

The hushed whispers filling the room died as the entirety of the class looked to her for an answer. Did she know you were seeing someone? She— you’ve never mentioned seeing anyone. Never mentioned any crushes or showed any interest in anyone around her. When did you even have the time date? You and Mira were always hanging out.

Maybe—maybe you were just saying you had a girlfriend. Maybe you thought it’d be less painful of a rejection if you had the excuse of already being in a relationship?

A desperate part of Mira clung to that hope.

And to the rest of the class, she straightened her back and raised her head high, her gaze not leaving you as you stood below. “Of course I knew.”

But she didn’t. And she couldn’t stop wondering why she didn’t. Why you never told her.

“You need to stop growing.”

Mira scoffed as she effortlessly grabbed the bag of cookies that had been stored on the top shelf. “Or you just need to start growing,” she taunted back, earning an indignant noise from you.

She’d gone through another growth spurt recently, and you had not taken it well. It used to be that you and her were eye-to-nose, but now it seemed like you were more eye-to-mouth at Mira’s current height. A height that she lorded over you every chance she got.

Especially in times like these when you were forced to rely on her to retrieve the sacred snacks from the high shelves. Oh, the perks of being tall.

Technically they were supposed to be studying. Exams were coming up, and then it would be summer break.

Instead, when you two returned from the pantry, the evening found you situated between her legs in Mira’s room while she craned her neck to read the magazine you were holding, bag of the opened cookies at your side, and you pointing at the different idols and bands.

Having all of you right there, close and warm, was doing unspeakable things to Mira’s heart. But she hid it all behind a well-practiced mask, listening intently as you began rambling about a guitarist the magazine had written about. Your head was resting against her chest, half-lying on the floor as opposed to any kind of sitting, practically sprawled across her.

It was cute.

One arm was draped loosely across your midsection, the other slid to your head, carding through the strands of your hair. You instinctively leaned into her touch, letting out a pleased noise. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that the two of you have shared many times since you were kids.

“Do they mind?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend…or girlfriend…” it was the first time Mira had broached the subject since the confession the class witnessed, and she nearly choked on the words. “Do they mind that you’re here all the time?” Would they mind the way you were draped across her lap? Or the way Mira held and touched you?

You let out a sharp laugh, something playful glittering in your eyes, as if there was some kind of joke that Mira was expected to understand. “Well, I sure hope she doesn’t.”

She. So girlfriend. That was more information than Mira had moments ago, and still nothing. Were you dating one of the girls from their school, or someone from another? Was it someone she knew? Someone she’d met? Mira couldn’t think of any girls in their social circle who seemed particularly datable.

Instead of asking any of that, Mira scoffed. “Wow. Your girlfriend must be a real saint if she’s not even a little jealous.”

“I don’t know about a saint. She’s kind of devilish,” you had that crooked grin again. “But I don’t think she has any reason to be jealous of this.”

Wow. Was that your way of saying that Mira wasn’t even considered a threat? As if it never even occurred to you or her that Mira might be on the table? That stung. Had Mira ever even been an option in your eyes? Had you never looked at her that way?

Of course you wouldn’t have. You may have been friends, but even you couldn’t love Mira the way she loved you. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could be loved. Liked—yes. But never loved.

You looked up at her, gaze sharp. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mira answered quickly, forcing her fingers to continue to comb through your hair, “Just thinking about stuff… it’s going to be weird not seeing each other as often once exams are over.”

Once exams were done, Mira would be heading off to another city to participate in a survival show with a hundred other girls auditioning to become idols. A part of her still couldn’t believe it was actually happening, and a bigger part of her was wondering how she was going to survive it without you at her side.

“More like it’s gonna suck,” you lamented, sinking deeper into her hold as you pouted—and what right did you have to look so adorable like that?—your grip on the magazine tightening. “It’s not fair, I’m going to be bored and lonely with you gone.”

She doubted that, how could you be when you had a girlfriend. If anything, you were going to have more time to spend with her now that Mira was going to be out of the picture.

Her chest burned at the thought.

Mira hated herself for being jealous; you deserved a better friend, one who could feel happy for you. If this girl made you happy, Mira had no right to ruin it for you because of her own feelings.

Forcing her expression to stay pleasant; the conversation drifted, complaining about how you would miss each other, assuring Mira that she was going to kill it out there because “no one else can match you, you’re the best singer there is,” which definitely did not have Mira blushing.

You were always very liberal when praising and complimenting her, and she greedily soaked it all in just as much as she anxiously shied away from it.

Did you talk to your girlfriend like this, too?

After a while, your breathing evened out and the magazine tipped against your chest. Mira only noticed because it jolted her out of her own reverie of staring at your hands.

She should get up, wake you, or at least move you to where you wouldn’t end up sore. The sun was setting outside, your own parents were probably wondering where you were. Mira considered it for two seconds before pulling out her own phone to text your mom. She got the number after the first time you two had spent the night together, and had kept it ever since.

[We’re studying late, is it okay if they spend the night?]

Her phone buzzed in her hand a moment later, just as her own eyes were drifting shut. [Of course they can. Thank you for taking care of them!] it came with a heart emoji, and Mira tried to pretend it doesn’t warm something in her.

As her eyes slipped shut, she wondered if your girlfriend sent messages like this to your parents. Wonders if they’ve met. Do they like this girl more than Mira? Trust her to take care of you the way Mira does?

It isn’t fair. It aches worse than anything.

After exams, you caught Mira before she could leave, smothering her in hugs, covering her face in kisses that sent her heart thundering, and gifted her your lucky guitar pick, your most cherished possession.

She nearly cried.

That pick became a permanent part of her wardrobe.

You were both adults now.

It had been two years since Huntr/x debuted, and the life of an idol was more than Mira had expected. Granted, no one really considers killing demons as part of an idols job, but that was beside the point. True to your constant assurances, Huntr/x had made it big.

Even you had begun to make a name for yourself in the music world. You were not an idol, but you were growing in popularity as a musician, having already amassed a sizable following.

It was easier for your schedules to align now then when she was in training, though gone were still the days she could spend all day with you like when you had been kids.

But these stolen moments together were still what Mira treasured most.

“You two are so cute together,” Zoey said as she passed by, catching the two of you curled up on the couch after a long day of practice.

Just like before, you were sprawled out on her lap, your head resting on her chest like it was a pillow as an old slasher film played on the tv before you. And just like before, Mira had one hand lazily combing your hair, and the other draped around your waist.

Her face turned red when Zoey said that, fixing her with a glare. “Zoey,” was her only warning.

You, on the other hand, had laughed. Reaching up, you patted the hand that was draped across you, grinning up at the younger girl. “Aren’t we? The cutest peas in a pod you’ll ever see.”

“Man, I wish I could date someone, too. You two look so happy together.”

Mira's brain stuttered.

Did—did Zoey think you and Mira were dating? The idea that you two could pass for a couple had filled her with such an intense rush of joy.

Only to quickly be crushed when she forcibly reminded herself that you already had a girlfriend.

That joy turned quickly to guilt; because what right did she have to be acting so cute and lovey with you when your girlfriend was gone? Followed by the shame of knowing she wasn’t going to push you away despite knowing that she should, that she was crossing lines clinging to you like this.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed Zoey had already left until she felt you shifting in her arms again.

Swallowing hard, Mira tightened her hold on you, knowing what she was going to ask would hurt.

“Can you…tell me more about her? Your girlfriend?”  You had been dating this girl for years, and still Mira felt like she knew nothing about her. Had never even met her—why had you never introduced her?

Your shoulders are shaking with that thinly held laugh, grinning up at her once more like there was a joke she had missed. “What do you want to know?”

“Is she taller or shorter than you?”

You hummed, tilting your head to the side, “Taller.”

“What are her best qualities?”

“Well, once you get past her tough exterior, she’s the kindest, sweetest woman I know. She helps me out, even when I don’t know I need it, she’s patient with me when I’m struggling, always there to listen. She makes me smile without even trying—”

She slapped at you, “Okay, okay. My teeth are going to rot out with this sappy sweetness.” Those were all things Mira could do for you, if you would let her. Nothing special, nothing new. It did nothing but make her jealousy burn hotter. “What does she look like?”

This time you didn’t even hide the laugh as you patted the hand she still had draped across you. “She’s the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, not even Helen could match her.”

Mira swallowed hard. “Well, what does she do?”

“She’s  in the entertainment industry. She sings and dances—” you sounded breathless as you said that, there was a look of adoration in your eyes, “no one else can match her, she’s the best there is.”

You—you always told Mira she was unmatched, that she was the best when it came to music, when it came to her dancing. Hearing you say that about someone else, it was a knife to her heart.

“Oh.” Her stomach was burning. She might be sick.

When you announced that you got hired on as a host for one of the weekly music variety shows, Mira couldn’t have been happier for you.

This kind of exposure was always good for a still up-and-coming musician, and she knew that you were going to do great. You were charming, you were funny, it was impossible for an audience to not like you.

But then she heard the catch, and that happiness soured into jealousy.

Your co-host for the show was a veteran idol.

She knew that it wasn’t going to mean anything, it was just a show, she was just another host. But she was a pretty woman, confident in everything she did. You two looked cute together in the pictures, what if the producers leaned into that dynamic for the views?

That jealousy only worsened when she watched the first episode after it had aired.

You had smiled, charming as ever, a grin that anyone would fall for, and your co-host was sweet, bubbly in the way a more lovable girl was, her laughter pleasant and airy. She would always lean in close to you when she spoke.

Like any show, you two were paired in silly, childish games, you shared snacks, you had inside jokes that Mira couldn't tell whether they were scripted or genuine.

The girl was constantly touching you, and every time Mira saw her hand brush against you, her jealousy spiked.

You were laughing back, bantering back, smiling at her, and something cruel whispered to Mira that this was what a couple was supposed to look like.

The second episode hadn’t been any better for her

It was only a temporary gig, you had told her. You were just going to be the host for four episodes. It was only for a month.

But she wasn’t sure she could handle watching you two acting so cute for four entire episodes. Mira barely managed to watch the first, hadn’t been able to finish the second before the writhing inside her became too much.

But whenever you called, eager to tell her how much fun you were having with this job, how well you were getting along with your co-host and the crew—all Mira could do was plaster on a smile, shove her jealousy deep, deep down, and tell you how happy she was for you.

She wondered if your elusive girlfriend, your pretty and oh-so talented girlfriend, was as jealous as Mira was over the show, if her insides coiled with envy and heartbreak seeing another woman hanging off of you.

She wondered if your girlfriend registered this girl as a threat in the way she hadn't for Mira.

The party was to celebrate the end of Huntr/x’s latest world tour; everyone was having the time of their life enjoying the drinks and music.

Everyone but Mira.

It was hard for her to be happy when she was seething with jealousy watching you from across the room. You were surrounded by people, as you always were, laughing and chatting with people you had never even met before that night.

But with the jealousy came the sucker punch mix that was shame and guilt—what right did Mira have to be upset that people flocked to you? You were the sun itself in a human shell, warm and inviting.

You were so, so easy to love. You were sweet and soft; you were unyieldingly kind. Everything Mira was not. She should be happy people liked you. She shouldn’t be wishing you were on her level—feeling like you were unlovable and lonely.

And yet no matter what she did, she couldn’t cool that boiling rush of jealousy and spite that flowed through her veins as she watched you.

How awful did she have to be to be miserable at a party meant for her?

Sighing, Mira downed another glass of champagne. This whole night had been depressing, and she just wanted to go back home. The only good thing to come from the party was getting to see Zoey and Rumi have fun.

At least the alcohol was free.

You were smiling, your face slightly flushed, the stars in your eyes. Laughing at what one of them whispered to you.

She wondered what you were talking to with your little fan club over there. Wondered if one of the women surrounding you was your mysterious girlfriend. There were quite a few who were a bit taller than you, a few who were rather pretty.

“…ra. Mira!”

Oh. You were so close now—Mira could reach out and touch you. Your eyes were glazed over and twinkling as you slid into the seat next to her, slumping against her side with an airy giggle.

And Mira may have had a few drinks already since this party started, but she was adamant that she wasn’t drunk—wasn’t that drunk—but that didn’t explain why it was taking all her fraying willpower to not grab hold of your face and start squishing those blushing cheeks of yours.

“Why are you hiding all the way over here?” you asked, nuzzling against her shoulder.

Mira struggled for a moment, trying to weigh the risks and benefits before she wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you back into her lap, right where you belonged. “It’s nicer over here.” Far nicer, now that you were here.

You laughed, burying your face into her neck, your warm breath tickling the skin and sending shivers down her spine, filling her brain with static. “Comfy,” you murmured as you nestled into her.

How could you be so cute? You couldn’t be real, you had to be a figment of her imagination, there just wasn’t any way you could be real. But still, even in the alcohol-induced haze, a voice gnawed at her.

“You sure you wanna be here? There’s probably other people you’d want to hang out with,” like your girlfriend, wherever she is, Mira added to herself.

You grinned, she could feel it in the way your mouth pressed to her neck, leaving little dewdrop kisses along the skin. “Nah,” you slurred, pressing another kiss to her neck, chaste, barely even there, and burning itself into her all the same. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere but ‘ere.”

You were cruel, she hoped you knew that.

Cruel—but not unwanted. Mira deserved to be a little selfish. She’d face the shame and guilt, the self-loathing in the morning. Right now, she was content to just stay with you like this.

Mira’s eyes were slow to open, resting under heavy eyelids. They fluttered a few times, and after a couple of dry blinks, she realized that something was off about where she was. The bed felt stiffer, the room smaller.

It took her a laughably longer bit of time to realize this was a hotel room, and very much not her hotel room.

She jolted straight up, suddenly on high alert—only to sway and moan as last night’s drinking caught up to her.

A groan clawed past her lips, mostly air as Mira realized how dry her throat was, how rough her eyes felt. Usually she tried to drink plenty of water when she was out drinking—so what happened? She could barely remember the party.

A little piece of it came back to her when she felt something rustle on the bed beside her.

Reflexes tingling, Mira jerked her head to the side—and was rewarded with the hammers inside her skull hitting even harder. She held back the groan this time, but pinched her eyes shut to steady her breathing. Just in time to feel an arm fall limply across her lap.

“It’s too early, go back to bed,” you groaned, voice gravelly from the sleep.

Mira’s eyes snapped open, and she looked down.

Because there you were, rolled over onto your stomach, face buried in the hotel pillow, and very much naked.

Face burning, Mira looked down at her self and realized she was as well.

Oh—oh, no. You didn’t, she didn’t. But it made sense. You had both been drinking, but maybe you two just slept, this didn’t mean you actually did any—

Nope. You two had sex. The fresh hickies Mira could see littering your neck and still-red scratch marks on your back confirmed it just as much as the ache in her thighs.

This was bad.

Oh no, no, no. The rush of shame was more dizzying than the hangover, it nearly sent her toppling,

Mira had never been fond of cheaters. Why be in a relationship if you can’t be faithful? Why intentionally go after someone you know is already taken? It just never made sense to her, it was a powder keg for drama that everyone would be better off without. Even with her feelings for you, she'd always tried her best to not cross any lines.

She’d scoffed and mocked when movies or shows felt the need to add a cheating plotline, she’d rolled her eyes whenever she saw on the tabloids that some celebrity couple had broken up because it came out that one was having an affair.

It was pointless. It was messy. It was something she never wanted to be involved with.

And now, that’s exactly what you and her were.

Clearly they had more to drink than she remembered at the party, she vaguely remembered stumbling back to your hotel afterwards, giggling, hanging off each other, she could—

Your mouth on hers, hot and needy, it was scorched in her memory.

“This can’t be happening,” Mira whispered, covering her face, blushing as the events of last night slowly came back to her, and wanting to disappear from the devastating guilt that came with it.

You shifted beside her, loudly yawning, “Mira?” you had asked, your voice still sleep-heavy. A moment passed and you pushed yourself up to sit. “Mira, are you okay?”

Did she look like she was okay? “What did we do?” she asked instead.

“I mean… I think it’s pretty clear what we did.”

Did you—why did you sound so smug about that? Your tone, the casual pride in it had Mira snapping her head up to stare at you in disbelief. Why would you sound so—so—pleased about this? You had a—

Your girlfriend was going to be devastated. Did you not care about that?

“What the hell?” Mira snapped, shoving you back. “We messed up—that’s not something to sound so happy about!”

You recoiled, “I’m sorry—what are you talking about?” you were looking up at her, your expression confused and hurt in all the wrong ways. “I—did I do something wrong? Mira, what’s going on?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because why were you acting like you didn’t know?

“Your girlfriend! You have a girlfriend and we, we—” she gestured furiously between you two. “Do you not feel any guilt?”

There was no recognition, no shame in your expression. Instead, your confusion visibly soured before you flopped, face down, back onto the mattress, burying your groan into the lumpy pillow.

“It’s way too fucking early for that joke, Mira.”

“Joke?” Mira echoed.

“Yeah. Joke. Are you still drunk or something?” you groaned out.

Mira bristled at the accusation, "What are you talking about?"

You reluctantly pushed yourself back up to a seated position, swaying a bit with the effort, before pinching your brow. “It’s been your favorite joke for years to pretend I’m dating some unknown girl. Don’t know why, but you must have found it fun with how often you bring it up.”

If it was just a joke then… did that mean… “This entire time—you weren’t actually dating someone?”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because you looked like you looked like you wanted to walk away and never come back. “Mira,” you said, your voice quiet, choking as you buried your face in your hands and muffled a quiet scream. “Please tell me you’re kidding. There’s no way—no way—you don’t actually know.”

“Don’t know what?!”

“That we’re dating? You can't have not known.”

Mira’s brain may have short circuited when you said that. It took a moment, replaying your words. Dating. Dating—you and Mira. She’s dating you—you think she’s dating you. They’re—

“We’re not dating?” she asked, feeling helpless, feeling like she was drowning.

You pulled your hands from your face, looking just as lost and frustrated as she felt. “I thought we were!”

What did you mean you thought they were dating? When did that happen? How long had that been going on? She tried desperately to scour her memories for that moment that you could have mistaken as them becoming a couple, but she couldn’t find anything.

Her body sagged, she didn’t know what else she could say but; “Can we…can we start over?”

The morning was spent in bed. Getting dressed, grabbing water and Tylenol, and just talking.

Apparently you had been under the assumption that you and Mira had been in a relationship since you were teenagers, where Mira clearly thought you two had been friends. Somewhere along the lines—and neither of you could figure out exactly where—the wires got crossed between you which had resulting in this awkward mess.

You’d never said anything explicit about your relationship because you had thought Mira was trying to keep it under wraps because of her career. She was still something of a rookie idol, and a relationship could generate a lot of backlash. Backlash you had wanted to avoid creating.

Mira was sure her face was going to melt with how hot her blush was burning. Because you thought she was the kindest, sweetest woman you knew, the most beautiful and talented woman you’ve ever seen. Because you loved her. That look of pure adoration whenever you spoke about your ‘girlfriend’ to her—that look had been for Mira every time.

She’d been jealous of herself for all these years.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t realize. I mean—I’m saying ‘I love you’ to you every day,” You laughed, wrapping your arms around her as you pulled Mira into your lap.

Mira pouted, ducking her head down to try and hide her flush. “That doesn’t count. You tell everyone you love them. Hell, you told Bobby you loved him yesterday.”

“Yeah, but I don’t use the same tone with them.”

Because the tone was such a telling feature. It was ridiculous, and Mira couldn’t help but let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Well, if we’ve been dating all this time, why haven’t you ever kissed me, huh?”

Your arms snaked tighter around her as you let out a sound like a wounded animal. “I’ve tried,” you complained. “But you always shied away from them, so I just assumed you didn’t like that kind of stuff.”

Oh.

“I do,” Mira murmured. “Like that stuff, I mean.”

You shifted, and soon the two were facing each other, a tension like a string pulled taught between you as you stared her down, waiting. You were waiting for an invitation, she realized, and she gave it with a quiet nod.

And then your mouth was on hers. Slow and tender and—ah. This. This is what Mira had been longing for all these years, ever since their first kiss as kids.

She bit at your bottom lip and slipped her fingers under the gap between your shirt and waistband, her other resting on the back of your head to pull you closer, kissing you the way she imagined some faceless stranger had for years.

But this is better, she realized. Because its her, and it’s you, and your mouth opens at just the slightest prodding.

When you two pulled back, it was for nothing more than the need of air. If Mira could survive without breathing, she would have still been kissing you. Her mouth on yours and never pulling away.

Mira collapsed against you, burying her face in your neck, nose pressing against one of the still-tender bruises she had left. She could still see the faint indent of her teeth on your skin. She wanted to leave more, cover them all again and again.

“No one can know,” she murmured, pressing a kiss against the bruise, “if anyone asks, I’ve known we were dating the entire time.”

You shivered and trembled beneath her, fingers playing lightly at her hips. “I don’t know, I can be a bit loose-lipped,” you said with a soft laugh. “Maybe you should seal them with another kiss.”

That, Mira would happily do.

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