It wasn't a stage kiss, flashy and performative. It was soft, unsure, and tasted faintly of salt from tears neither of them had shed yet. Gabbie melted into it, her hand finding the lapel of Lena’s blazer, holding on like the floor was giving way.
It wasn't a question. Lena's expression softened, just a flicker. "I saw you, Gabbie. Not the fantasy. The girl who used to cry in the dressing room after her mom called. The one who gave her last twenty to the new girl who got robbed." She slid onto the stage next to her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "You were always the realest thing in this fake place." gabbie carter, lena paul
"Like a beginning," Lena whispered. And then she kissed her. It wasn't a stage kiss, flashy and performative
When they finally pulled apart, the silence wasn't empty anymore. It was full of possibility. It wasn't a question
"You're still here," Lena's voice came from the shadows. She emerged, leaning against the brass rail of the bar. Her black blazer was unbuttoned, her red hair loose around her shoulders. She looked tired, but in a beautiful, untouchable way.
Lena smirked, stepping closer. "Maybe. Or I'll finally take that vacation I've been promising myself for a decade." She stopped a few feet away. "And you?"