The music room was bathed in soft afternoon light, pale gold spilling across the floor like spilled tea. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, catching the soft creak of the old wooden floorboards under Selene's worn sneakers. She stood near the piano, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her back to the door. Her mind swirled with noise far louder than the usual hallway chatter she'd learned to drown out with music and hoodies.
For days now, Lila had been distant.
It wasn't overt, and it wasn't cruel—Lila still smiled, still greeted Selene in the halls, still sat beside her during their shared study periods. But the teasing lilt in her voice was missing, the brush of her hand on Selene's wrist while she laughed, absent. She no longer lingered in the music room like she used to. No half-finished sketches on the floor. No soft humming while Selene played.
Selene had grown to expect those things. Craved them.
And now? Now she felt as though something vital had been pulled from the air between them.
Was it something she said?
Was it the kiss?
The kiss.
Selene had replayed it countless times. The taste of wintermint, the soft weight of Lila's hand on her waist, the slight shudder that ran through both of them when their lips met. It had been real. Raw. And not nearly long enough.
Selene had leaned in again, her body tingling with anticipation, but Lila had pulled away gently, her smile unreadable. "We should probably go," she'd whispered. And then she'd left.
Since then, everything had felt muted, like she was playing a song in a different key and couldn't find the right notes.
Now, standing in the echo of that sacred space, Selene let her fingers fall onto the keys. The sound was jarring at first, loud in the silence. She pressed them more softly, coaxing out a lullaby she used to hum as a child. Her chest ached with the effort to stay composed.
She wasn't good at this—at wondering, at waiting. Her emotions were like crescendos she couldn't control. One day she was soaring with the thrill of Lila's attention, and the next, she was plummeting into silence.
She needed to know.
The door creaked open behind her. Selene's fingers faltered, but she didn't turn.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
A familiar scent drifted through the air—graphite, lavender, and something warm beneath it. Lila.
Selene's heart raced as she stared at the piano keys. Each breath she took seemed too loud.
"Hey," Lila's voice was soft, uncertain.
Selene stayed quiet, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.
Lila stepped closer. The rustle of her sketchpad settling onto the bench beside Selene broke the silence.
"You haven't been playing much lately. I missed it."
Selene turned to her slowly. Lila was watching her, but there was something guarded in her gaze, as if she was trying to figure out which version of Selene she'd be facing today.
"You've been... distant," Selene said, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.
Lila blinked. "I didn't mean to be."
Silence stretched between them again.
"Then why?" Selene's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "After everything, I thought—"
"I know," Lila interrupted. She looked down at her hands, fingers curled tightly around the edge of the bench. "I freaked out."
Selene stared. That wasn't what she expected.
"It's not you," Lila continued. "I just—I've never felt that way before. Not about anyone. And it scared me. It still does.
Selene's chest ached. "I thought I did something wrong."
Lila's eyes snapped up. "No. God, no. You're... Selene, you're amazing. You make me feel—"
She cut herself off, biting her bottom lip.
"What?"
Lila exhaled slowly. "Like I'm not alone. Like I can breathe. Like there's color again."
Something inside Selene unraveled.
They sat in silence, the weight of it almost comforting now. Outside, the wind rattled against the windows, but in here, time slowed.
Lila reached out tentatively, her hand brushing against Selene's. When Selene didn't pull away, she intertwined their fingers.
"I'm sorry I disappeared," Lila whispered. "I didn't mean to make you doubt. I just... needed to figure out what this meant."
Selene looked down at their hands. Her own fingers trembled slightly.
"And?" she asked, voice small.
Lila smiled, just slightly. "And I think I don't want to keep pretending I don't feel something when I do. I've missed you. All of you."
Selene turned fully toward her, her body moving on instinct. "Then don't pretend."
Lila's eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The only sound was the quiet thump of Selene's heart against her ribs.
And then Lila leaned in, hesitant but sure.
Their lips met with less urgency than the first time, but with deeper intent. It wasn't a kiss stolen in a fleeting moment—it was one grounded in knowing, in choosing. Selene's hand came up to cradle Lila's jaw, her thumb brushing against soft skin.
When they pulled apart, foreheads touching, Selene laughed quietly, breathlessly.
"I've been losing my mind over you."
Lila smirked, breath warm against her skin. "Good."
Selene rolled her eyes, her tension easing into something playful. "You're cruel."
"And yet, you like me anyway."
"Unfortunately."
They sat in the quiet after, fingers still entwined. Outside, the sun dipped lower, shadows lengthening across the floor.
Selene let her head rest against Lila's shoulder.
It wasn't a resolution. It wasn't a declaration. But it was enough—for now.
Because the music room had always been a place of safety, of honesty. And now, maybe, it could be the beginning of something more.
Something real.