Chapter Text
“Can you take me to her.”
Gorya blinks. “What?”
Prim doesn’t look at her, already grabbing her bag. “To Shasha. I know Bambi’s there.”
There’s something sharp in her voice. Urgent.
Gorya exhales slowly. “Prim, maybe you should—”
“Please.”
That stops her.
Not the word itself—but the way Prim says it.
So Gorya nods.
“Fine.”
The ride is quiet.
Too quiet.
Prim keeps checking her phone. Gorya keeps her eyes on the road.
She doesn’t ask.
She doesn’t want to.
Because she already knows.
Bambi.
Shasha.
The thought alone is enough to make her grip tighten slightly on the steering wheel.
It shouldn’t matter.
It really shouldn’t.
“…We’re here,” Gorya says.
The door opens faster than expected.
Bambi stands there.
Surprised.
“Prim—”
“Can we talk?” Prim cuts in immediately.
Bambi hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Gorya steps inside quietly.
And then—
She sees her.
Shasha, leaning casually against the counter like nothing in the world is wrong.
Like everything is normal.
Like last night didn’t happen.
Their eyes meet.
Something unreadable passes between them.
“…You came,” Shasha says.
Gorya shrugs. “Driver duties.”
The words come out lighter than they feel.
Prim doesn’t wait, already pulling Bambi aside. “We need to talk. Alone.”
“Yeah,” Bambi nods, glancing once at Shasha before following her.
And just like that—
They’re left behind.
Silence settles.
Heavy.
Tense.
Shasha pushes herself off the counter, walking a little closer.
“You okay?” she asks.
Gorya lets out a small laugh.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Shasha studies her. “You tell me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Gorya—”
“I said I’m fine.”
The words come out sharper than intended.
Shasha pauses.
“…Right.”
Another silence.
Then—
“You heard.”
Not a question.
A statement.
Gorya crosses her arms. “Heard what?”
Shasha lets out a quiet breath. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t know.”
Gorya tilts her head slightly. “Know what, exactly?”
Shasha’s jaw tightens.
“…About me and Bambi.”
There it is.
Out in the open.
Gorya nods slowly.
“Ah. That.”
“That,” Shasha repeats, a hint of frustration slipping in. “Yeah.”
Gorya shrugs. “What about it?”
Shasha stares at her.
“…Are you serious right now?”
“What?” Gorya says. “It’s your life, right?”
The same line.
But this time—it doesn’t sound neutral.
It sounds… off.
Shasha takes a step closer.
“You’re upset.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you’re—” Gorya stops herself, jaw tightening. “You’re unbelievable.”
Shasha lets out a short laugh. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
“You already are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then what is this?” Shasha gestures between them. “Because it doesn’t look like nothing.”
Gorya exhales sharply.
“Fine,” she says. “You want something? Here.”
Her eyes meet Shasha’s.
Direct.
Unfiltered.
“You kissed her.”
The words land heavy.
Shasha doesn’t deny it.
Not immediately.
And that silence—
That’s enough.
Gorya lets out a humorless laugh.
“Wow.”
“Gorya—”
“No, it’s fine,” she cuts in quickly. “Really. Why wouldn’t you?”
Shasha frowns. “That’s not—”
“You can kiss whoever you want,” Gorya continues, voice tightening slightly. “You always do, right?”
There it is again.
That slip.
That edge.
Shasha catches it.
“…Why do you care?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t,” Gorya repeats, sharper now.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything!”
“You are!” Shasha fires back, stepping closer. “You came here, you’re picking a fight, and you expect me to believe this doesn’t matter to you?”
Gorya’s breath catches.
For a second—
Just a second—
She doesn’t have an answer.
So she falls back on the only thing she can.
“It doesn’t,” she says.
Flat.
Final.
Shasha stares at her.
Searching.
“…You’re lying.”
“And you’re deflecting.”
“I’m trying to explain—”
“Then explain,” Gorya snaps. “Go ahead.”
Shasha runs a hand through her hair, frustration clear now.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
Silence.
Shasha hesitates.
And that—
That hesitation—
It hurts more than anything.
Gorya lets out a quiet laugh.
“Exactly.”
“No,” Shasha shakes her head. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then say it.”
“I—”
Shasha stops.
Closes her eyes for a second.
Then—
“…We kissed.”
There’s no point denying it.
The truth sits between them now.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
Gorya nods slowly.
Like she expected it.
Like it doesn’t affect her.
“Okay.”
That’s all she says.
Okay.
Shasha frowns. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know—something?”
“Like what?” Gorya asks, voice rising slightly. “That I care? That it bothered me? Why would it?”
Shasha steps closer again.
“Because it does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Gorya—”
“Stop,” she snaps.
Shasha reaches out—instinctively, without thinking—
Her hand brushing Gorya’s arm.
And that’s when—
“Don’t touch me.”
It’s immediate.
Sharp.
Final.
Shasha freezes.
Gorya pulls her arm back like it burned.
The distance between them suddenly feels too wide.
Too real.
“…Wow,” Shasha says quietly.
Not angry.
Not sarcastic.
Just… affected.
Gorya looks away, jaw tight.
“Just don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like this is something it’s not.”
Shasha swallows. “And what is it?”
“Nothing.”
The word lands like a lie.
Heavy.
Obvious.
Shasha lets out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Right.”
Silence fills the space again.
But this time, it’s worse.
Colder.
More distant.
“…I tried to explain,” Shasha says finally.
“You did.”
“And?”
“And it doesn’t matter.”
Shasha’s expression hardens slightly.
“…Okay.”
One word.
But it carries something else now.
Something hurt.
Something closing off.
Gorya nods once.
Like that settles it.
Like everything’s back to normal.
“Good.”
But neither of them move.
Neither of them speak.
Because they both know—
Nothing about this feels normal anymore.
Gorya doesn’t even look at her.
She just walks past.
Shasha stands there for a second.
Frozen.
Hand still slightly raised from where she tried to reach her.
“…Right,” she mutters under her breath.
Then she turns—
And follows anyway.
“Gorya.”
Nothing.
Gorya keeps walking.
“Gorya, wait—”
“I said don’t.”
This time, she stops.
Turns just enough to look at her.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Her expression is tight. Annoyed.
“…Stop following me.”
Shasha exhales sharply. “Can you just listen for a second?”
“No.”
And just like that—
Gorya turns again and walks.
It’s starting to get frustrating.
No—it’s already frustrating.
“Are you serious right now?” Shasha says, catching up again. “You won’t even let me talk?”
Gorya stops abruptly.
Shasha almost walks into her.
“Why?” Gorya asks, finally facing her fully. “So you can explain what exactly?”
Shasha opens her mouth—
Closes it.
“…It wasn’t like that.”
Gorya lets out a short laugh.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That line.” She shakes her head. “You always have something to say after.”
“That’s because you won’t let me finish.”
“I don’t need to hear it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
Silence.
Tense.
Sharp.
Shasha takes a step closer.
Gorya immediately steps back.
Distance.
Clear.
Deliberate.
“…Okay,” Shasha says slowly. “So you’re just going to keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“This.” She gestures between them. “Acting like I did something unforgivable.”
Gorya’s jaw tightens.
“You kissed her.”
There’s no hesitation this time.
No holding back.
The words land heavy.
“I know,” Shasha says.
“And?”
“And I’m trying to explain—”
“I don’t care.”
The interruption is instant.
Cold.
Shasha blinks. “You don’t—”
“I don’t care,” Gorya repeats, firmer. “Who you kiss, what you do—it’s not my problem.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You are,” Shasha presses. “You won’t even look at me properly.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
That—
That one hits.
Shasha’s expression falters for a split second.
“…Gorya.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s going to change something.”
Shasha lets out a quiet breath, running a hand through her hair.
“Can you just listen? Please?”
Gorya looks at her.
Finally.
But there’s no softness in it.
“…Fine,” she says. “You have thirty seconds.”
Shasha huffs out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Okay—fine.” Shasha straightens slightly. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Can you not count while I’m talking?”
“You’re wasting time.”
“God—” Shasha cuts herself off, frustrated. “We kissed. Yes. But it wasn’t—”
“Fifteen.”
“Will you stop?!”
“Ten.”
“Nothing happened after,” Shasha blurts out. “It was just—it just happened.”
Silence.
Gorya stares at her.
Unimpressed.
“…That’s it?” she asks.
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“That is the truth!”
Gorya shakes her head, stepping back again.
“No, that’s your version of it.”
Shasha’s frustration spikes. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you always make things sound smaller than they are.”
“It was small!”
“To you.”
The words cut.
Clean.
Sharp.
Shasha goes quiet for a second.
“…You think I’m lying?”
“I think you don’t take things seriously.”
“That’s not fair.”
Gorya lets out a quiet scoff. “Fair?”
“Yeah, fair,” Shasha says, stepping closer again—careful this time. “You’re acting like I did something to you.”
Gorya laughs.
Short. Bitter.
“You didn’t.”
“Then why are you so mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You are.”
“I’m annoyed.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“Stop arguing with me.”
“Then stop walking away every time I try to talk!”
Silence crashes between them.
Heavy.
Breathing uneven.
Neither of them move.
“…I’m trying here,” Shasha says, quieter now.
Gorya looks at her.
There’s something there.
Something close to breaking.
But she shuts it down immediately.
“Try somewhere else.”
Shasha freezes.
“…What?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I didn’t,” Shasha says, voice tightening. “Explain.”
Gorya crosses her arms.
“Go explain to Bambi. Since that’s who you—”
“Don’t,” Shasha cuts in sharply.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make it sound like that.”
“Like what?” Gorya challenges. “Like it matters?”
“It doesn’t—”
“Exactly.”
The word lands hard.
Final.
And suddenly—
Shasha doesn’t know what to say anymore.
Because nothing she says is getting through.
Nothing is fixing this.
“…Why won’t you just let me talk?” she asks, softer now.
Gorya’s expression hardens.
“Because I don’t want to hear it.”
Shasha steps forward again—
Careful.
Slow.
Her hand lifts—
And gently—
She tries to touch Gorya’s arm.
“Gorya, please—”
“Don’t.”
Gorya jerks her arm away immediately.
Like it burned.
The movement is sharp.
Instinctive.
Final.
Shasha’s hand lingers in the air.
Empty.
“…Okay,” she whispers.
That one—
That one hurt.
Gorya looks away.
Jaw tight.
“Just stop,” she says, quieter now. “Stop trying to fix something that isn’t broken.”
Shasha lets out a hollow laugh.
“Then why does it feel like it is?”
No answer.
Of course.
No answer.
Gorya turns.
Walks away.
Again.
This time—
Shasha doesn’t follow.
She just stands there.
Watching her leave.
Chest tight.
Frustration gone.
Replaced with something worse.
“…I’m trying,” she mutters to herself.
But for the first time—
It doesn’t feel like enough.