Amy understands

It’s times like these Amy wishes she were more athletic. Adrenaline had fuelled the better part of her frantic dash through the courtyard, but by the time she started climbing the academy’s staircase, it had run out. Clutching her side, she trudges past the last steps, down the hallway, then crashes into the door to the Advisors Hall. It’s a miracle she doesn’t lose her footing, but miracles tend to be short-lived. She manages to make it towards a chair before her legs turn to noodles and she ragdolls over the table.

The room is perfect: cold, dark, quiet and, best of all, empty. For a long time, Amy’s uneven breaths fill the void, until the first sob tightens her chest. The images she’s been running away from come to haunt her. Mia’s body hovering in mid-air, then bouncing off the floor with a series of hard, muffled thuds. Her face was stuck in a serene joy. It was Amy’s doing, that smile. Then again so was everything else.

Her sleeve is damp. Sweat, tears, maybe a nosebleed? She heaves through her mouth, the air brushing by her tongue reigniting the sweet taste of foreign lip gloss. That kiss shut her down. It was a fantasy she’s held in the back of her mind, alongside all the celebrity crushes and puberty-triggered erotic fanfictions. When it became reality, she should’ve known things would go wrong.

Why didn’t she promote a grunt to protagonist? They had the know-how and the desire and she would’ve been free to play guard dog. But no, she had to be selfish. She had to be on stage, to be near her. The thought of anyone but her giving Mia that moment had been skewering her for so long. When the opportunity arose she just couldn’t help herself. It was an ego-trip and a hubris. And now she’s suffering through the hamartia –

A sigh of relief, “There you are,” comes from behind and makes Amy’s hairs stay on end. She jerks her head back, brow twisted in terror.

“G-g-g –“

“Girlfriend?“ Mia tries.

“Ghost!”

Amy stumbles out of her seat. She picks herself off the carpet, slowly backing towards the window.

“Amy…”

“Stay back, spectre! Nyeh!” she flings a whiteboard eraser at her. It lands in the corner of the room, miles off the mark.

“Amy.”

“Oh, God who art in heaven, is this your punishment? Pray, call back the spirits of the departed and cease this torment! I will go to church, I swear! I don’t know where it is, but I’ll find one and I’ll buy the biscuits and the candles and that weird thing that smells like hookah! And I’ll stop cursing and wearing clothes woven of two kinds of material and I’ll fast during lent and think only pure, chaste thoughts and –“

“Amy!”

She flinches. Mia’s tone wasn’t commanding nor loud. It was a calm plea, rendered into a terrifying roar by the mere foot of distance left between them. “We need to talk,” Mia continues.

“Are you sure? We’re in a waxing gibbous and I’m a Sagittarius, so–“

“Amy!” Mia seizes her by the shoulders. “Now.”

Amy gulps, then nods. This slightly assertive side of Mia terrifies her, but there’s no way to escape it now. She lets herself be guided the rest of the way towards the window, one clumsy step at a time. The blinds whirr slowly, the moonlight gliding in with a soft caress over their faces. They both lean on the sill, eyes lit with wonder at the pale view of the booths. It’s a sleeping village, huts and tents huddled together to survive, the gentle breeze threatening to blow them to smithereens. In the distance, the Hall of Titans sees ants wearing fuzz slowly trickling out its gaping mouth.

Amy peeks to the side. Sitting so close to each other in silence is – weird and she can tell Mia feels the same. But it’s a strange comfort, knowing that words are difficult and their cheeks burn all the same. She slides even closer, sensing the heat coming off Mia’s trembling hand.

“So, umm… did you like the show?” Amy says, struggling not to choke.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Yes?”

“I loved it, Amy. It was perfect.”

“E-even the ending?”

“You mean the kiss –“

“No! Hush! No! What?” Amy flails. Her attempts to cover Mia’s mouth fail, struck down by an amused stare. “I meant the –“

“I know what you meant.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. You can – can you stop worrying?”

“I – I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to stop after all this time.”

And when you’re looking at me like that. It’s like her skin is made of glass and Mia is peering through her, seeking to reveal every defect and vulnerability. And, oddly enough, Amy doesn’t want to stop her. Not after – after –

“What was that whole thing about?” she sulks all of a sudden.

“What thing?”

“You know, the… the thing we did.”

“Why can you just say ki –“

“Sst! Bzzt!” Amy flares up, her face a sweaty cherry. “B-but… yes. That.”

Mia smirks, “What do you think?”

“Well, umm, I think you might’ve confused me with the guy I replaced and, in the – ahem – throes of passion, you were taken with this insatiable desire to –“

“I was certain it was you.”

“Certain certain or like how Sean is certain he’s God’s gift to the female race?”

“Certain certain,” Mia says, barely abstaining from snickering. The response, although harrowing, carries a dulcet warmth to it. It seeps through Amy’s bones and makes her stomach tingle, her throat dry, her brain fuzzy and her lips stiff and disobedient. They will only curve upwards.

“I see,” Amy muses. “So then, erm… where do we go from here?”

Mia laughs. A ridiculously long laugh, between a manic cackle and that boisterous guffaw everyone holds in when a toddler falls over for the third time in ten seconds. But she’s not trying to mock; she just finds her too droll and couldn’t take it anymore. When she can breathe again, Mia sneaks her arm around Amy’s.

“You know what you are?” she asks.

“I plead the fifth.”

“A little mess.”

“Stuck in a little black dress?”

She can hear Mia rolling her eyes, but it’s the little chuckle that disarms her. In one blink her elbow is locked and Mia’s breath hits her skin, followed by a quick peck she couldn’t swat away. The wet spot on her cheek is all but steaming, yet somehow, Mia is redder than her. Their gazes meet, but neither of them can hold the other’s for too long.

“Amy,” Mia starts, her voice simpering and hesitant. “You’re the first person I invited home. The first I bought gifts for, went shopping with, the first that let me dress her up, the first I wanted to help and the first I wanted to ki –“ Amy yelps. “The point is, I like you. I really, really do. Do you still have doubts about anything?”

I like you.

“Amy?”

The world loses detail. The ground becomes air, the walls swatches of grey paint, the atmosphere tranquil and vague, the outside muffled warbles, the inside steady breathing and Mia a dazzling line of white. Her clothes are loose and heavy; they press her down as candid rivulets stream down her nose, her chin, her neck and form a happy puddle on the ground.

“Amy? Are you –“

She hiccups, then snorts, then breaks in a giggling fit, unrestrained and unafraid. A shadow envelops her, a concerned outline that can’t make heads or tails of what it sees. It’s not alone. Amy can’t tell what this floating means, why her arms have no weight and what’s stirring her insides. But she doesn’t want to let go of it. She reaches out, embracing the bright shape blurred by tears, relishing everything about it. The shy tenderness of its skin, the hummingbird heartbeat coursing through its veins, the strength and sturdy spine and the effusive sparks that no sense can register.

“Amy?” Mia tries for the third and final time.

“I’m s-sorry, haha.”

“What are you sorry for now?” Mia whines.

“Ruining the mood?”

“Try again.”

“Being too emotional?”

“One more time.”

“Making you fall for me?”

A sharp pain rings on her forehead. “Don’t joke about that.”

“Sorry…”

“And don’t apologise!”

“Sorry!”

“Amy!”

“Leave me alone, I’m new to this!”

“So am I!”

“And? Isn’t it – scary?”

“It – is,” Mia admits, flashing a troubled grin. She grabs Amy’s hand and drags both of them to their feet. “We’re a c-couple,” she mutters.

“See? It’s hard to say, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s just – unbelievable. Whenever I imagined my partner, I was walking down a pier, arm-in-arm with this – warthog of a man. I’d have to tolerate his grotesque appearance, his barely civilised mannerisms and jokes, his rotten stench and his egregious snoring because he was a heir to this ungodly conglomerate and our families together would be an unbeatable force. God, how long I’ve dreaded father one day coming into my room, showing me a jaundiced boy with his jaw scraping the lacquer off the tiles and telling me, ‘Mia, this is your future husband.’”

“That’s – specific.”

“I’ve put a lot of thought into it. But,” Mia drawls, “I’ve dodged that bullet.”

“And settled for the artisanal bomb.”

Mia sighs, giving her a playful, yet murderous glare. Talk yourself down one more time and I will hug you until you pass out, or something to that effect. It’s not something she can hope to solve in a hot second – or ever, for that matter – but Mia knows that well. If anything, that’s probably what she likes about her, how she’s open about and aware of her shortcomings. After all, admitting you have a problem is the first step towards a solution. The rest – they’ll figure out. Together.

“We should remodel this place,” Mia contemplates. “Make it a bit more homely.”

“What for?”

“Well – I think we’ll be spending a lot of time here. What do you think? A sofa? Maybe a little counter with refreshments, a coffee grinder, a kettle –“

“Pause. And explain.”

“What’s there to explain? Between being a Stellar Scholar and having the most honest speeches this school will have ever heard, people are looking up to you. And, looking you up, they’ll stumble upon this little place where they can talk to you and be sure that they’ll be speaking to an equal, not some golden goddess on a pedestal.”

“I – thank you.”

Mia recoils, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ve complimented you for a while and there was no self-deprecating retort or deflecting joke.”

Amy beams a wide smile. She buries her head in Mia’s back, slowly pushing her out of the room. The quicker they leave, the quicker she’ll go to sleep, the quicker tomorrow will come and her ambitious plan will be set into motion. Much as she wishes to bask in this moment forever, she’d rather see Mia in broad daylight.

“Not yet,” Amy replies as soon as the door clicks closed behind them.

“Hm?”

“You haven’t seen self-deprecating Amy yet.”

“Is she cute?”

“She’s pretty mopey. A little crazy. You’ll probably get sick of her before long.”

Amy casts a sideways glance at Mia. Though she expects her reaction – an exasperated uptilt of the head – she’ll never dislike the bubbles of bliss that come from her responses. After all, she’s selfish and greedy. And needy, insecure, hard-headed and anxious.

“Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

And, somehow, perfect. In her own way.