Chapter Text
Manon’s play was put on two more times after that, one on Saturday and one on Sunday. After each performance, Daniela would go into the hallway, and Sophia would meet her there and kiss her again, and the world was made anew every single time.
The storm had dissipated by Sunday, but the overbearing gray clouds still sat in the sky. It had gotten colder, and Daniela had shivered when she walked to the theater that morning, even though she wore her thickest coat. Maybe Sophia had an extra, or maybe they could go shopping for one together. That would be nice.
Daniela was staring out the window. Her entire body was humming. Sophia had just been with her, mere moments ago, and they had come together like lightning striking the earth. She could feel the phantoms of Sophia’s hands: on her face, her neck, her hips, pressing against her and pressing her against the wall like she couldn’t get enough. It was like time had stopped right then, because even though Sophia had gone back out to be congratulated by her other friends, she was still there too.
The sun had set some time during the play - it was, horrifyingly, beginning to set earlier and earlier - and the sky was darkening. Soon, stars would be visible if they weren’t blocked by the clouds. But there were no stars yet, and Daniela could only really see herself out the window. She looked happy. She also looked like she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was now nearing 6pm.
There was a rustling to her side, like the sound wind makes when it passes through flowers, and sure enough, Sophia was there holding a bouquet. Daniela smiled when she saw her. “Who’s that one from?” she asked.
“From me,” Sophia replied. “I got you this one.” She shrugged, her mouth quirking upwards in that way. “Since, you know, I’ve gotten so many.”
Daniela snorted, but stepped forward and took it anyway. The weight of it shocked her. They were just flowers held together with string, but the knot looked like Sophia had tied it herself, and that was why it felt so heavy. It came with the time Sophia had spent picking out the flowers, arranging them, wrapping them in paper, and the consideration to even make a bouquet for her at all.
When she hugged Sophia, the flowers crinkled against her back, and Daniela kissed her on the cheek. “Always giving me flowers, huh?” Daniela mused, remembering the chocolate rose that they’d eaten together in Chipotle, only a few months ago.
Sophia was staring at her, the softest of smiles on her lips. “Yeah,” she said into space. “Always.”
-
It smelled of petrichor and freshly picked daisies when Daniela and Sophia left the theater. Most had already gone home, but Daniela stayed behind with Manon to clean up, and Sophia had stayed with her. And when Manon ran off to meet up with Lara, it was just the two of them in the windless evening.
Daniela was pulling on her coat, and it made Sophia laugh. The coat looked like it was strangling her, the way it engulfed her body and pressed against her chin. “It’s cold, okay,” Daniela muttered. Her lips were already trembling. “Not everyone grew up here.”
“It’s cute,” Sophia told her, ignoring her complaints entirely. When she kissed Daniela, her lips were just as cold, and Daniela couldn’t find it within herself to care.
It seemed they lived a lifetime in the glance they shared after pulling apart. “So,” Daniela began, because the world was too silent and Sophia was smiling at her, “what will you do now?” Puffs of air were visible between them. They looked like clouds.
Sophia thought for a moment. “I’m not sure.” She scratched her head. “I should probably eat soon. I was supposed to have dinner with my parents after, but I think they got called in.” They were doctors, Daniela remembered Sophia saying once.
“We can get dinner,” Daniel said, and Sophia smiled, “if you have no other plans.”
“None.”
“Great.” Just then, Daniela’s mind wandered, and she remembered a secret Manon told her, a secret only the theater majors knew. “But would you be willing to wait a little bit first?” Disappointment glinted in Sophia’s eyes, and Daniela was quick to reassure her. “I’m hungry too. There’s just something I wanna show you first.”
After the briefest of hesitations, Sophia nodded. She took Daniela’s gloved hand in hers and squeezed. “Where to?” This readiness, this trust was something Daniela realized she was falling in love with. Sophia trusted her, and she trusted Sophia. And they wanted to have fun together. That’s why Daniela brought Sophia to a hidden staircase, why Sophia followed her up them without a second thought, why they continued tumbling wonderfully forward into each other.
There was a wooden door atop the staircase that opened with a creak, and suddenly the world stretched before them. They were on the slanted roof of the theater, made of wide wooden planks that sat unevenly against each other. It seemed like they could touch the clouds.
“Be careful,” Daniela said as she stepped out. “It’s tilted a bit.” Sophia said nothing, just squeezed Daniela’s hand even tighter and followed.
They ended up sitting down right beside the door, both wary of walking around lest they slip. Their bouquets sat inside, on the top step. The wood was still damp from the rain, and the air smelled amazingly heavy. It was silent for a time, as they both sat and took in the view. “I thought I’d repay you,” Daniela told her, “for that night on the roof.”
“Consider us even,” Sophia replied, looking over at her and smiling like she was the sun. Then, her sparkling eyes dropped to Daniela’s lips, and it felt like a strange possession, the way her body lurched forward on its own.
“Can I?” Daniela asked, though she was already leaning in, though her eyes were on Sophia’s lips like gravity had taken them there. And Sophia nodded, already coming closer too. They fell into each other, on the roof that Sophia had just performed under, on the roof under which Daniela had realized she would have been content to watch Sophia forever. Or perhaps they had fallen into each other long ago, and only now were their bodies catching up. Still, Sophia tasted sweeter than candy.
When they pulled apart, Daniela hovered close, close enough that their foreheads still touched, that their noses remained interwoven like snakes, that their mouths shared breaths. Daniela’s eyes were closed, and she could imagine Sophia’s were too. Still, they saw each other.
“I don’t want to just be someone you kiss,” Daniela whispered, more breathless than she’d thought. When had her heart begun beating so quickly? “You make me too happy for that.”
“I don’t want you to be either,” Sophia told her. She opened her mouth like she would say more, but instead said nothing, and the words hung between them. It seemed warmer suddenly, and Daniela leaned her head against Sophia’s shoulder. Sophia’s hand came around Daniela’s waist, holding them together like a promise.
“I used to sneak onto the roof,” murmured Sophia, “back home, when I was a kid. I liked getting closer to the stars.” She scoffed, and Daniela felt the sensation of it because so much of them was pressed together. “My parents caught me once, and I think that was the only time they ever yelled at me.”
“And now we’re here,” Daniela said just as quietly, “and you’re sneaking out onto higher roofs.”
Sophia chuckled, and it sounded like the wind. “Only with you.” The wind went by, carrying the weight of those words, of Sophia’s presence so high up and Daniela’s next to her. Of Sophia telling Daniela that, yes, this had been her small act of defiance when she was little, and here they were together.
“I think this past month,” Sophia continued, “might be the only thing I remember about this year. For so long, I went between my apartment, my classes, the store, and my corner seat in the library. And then you showed up asking for caramel.
“I didn’t know it was possible for me to enjoy this so much,” she said a little louder, like she was speaking to the world. “I didn’t think I had room for fun. I thought I would always just be the dedicated student who has her own seat in the library.”
Daniela hummed. “You can enjoy things and still be dedicated.” The breeze stilled for a moment, and it was quiet but for Sophia’s breath. “No one ever said you had to be just one thing.”
Just then, Daniela realized no birds were chirping. No wonder the world felt so still, like it was preparing for something. “Thank you,” Sophia was saying, “for helping me realize that.” It wasn’t the most complex choreography, but Daniela still swayed to the timing of it, of angling herself so that her lips could press against Sophia’s cheek, of feeling Sophia smile against her.
It wasn’t the most complex choreography, but it was becoming her favorite. And just then, snow began to fall. Daniela didn’t realize when it started, but suddenly they were surrounded by it. Light specks of white surrounded them, falling slowly enough to appear as though they were hovering. As though they were sitting among the stars.
She tensed for a brief moment, her eyes tracking the nearest snowflake. It was suspended in the air long enough for her eyes to focus on. Even though it was surely not the perfect crystal it appeared to be, Daniela couldn’t find any flaw within its shape.
Sophia felt her grow tense and sat up. “Your first snow.” She said the words like they were holy. If Daniela had known the reverence with which Sophia cared, perhaps she never would have been scared of the snow in the first place.
The air was thick and silent, and enough snow was falling to turn everything colorless. Daniela looked upward, into the clouds, trying to discern exactly where each snowflake separated from the mass of gray and became its own imperfect crystal. Her eyes couldn’t find it.
When she looked down, Sophia was staring at her. Her eyes were shining, and her lips were shining, and they were fashioned into that curved smile that only a madman would attempt to paint because there was no way any imitation could contain the wonder of the real thing.
“It would be nice to do this,” Daniela was saying before she realized she was saying it, “for a long time.” She didn’t quite know what ‘this’ was, but she knew it had something to do with being there, in the snow, with Sophia, in each other’s hidden spaces. In Sophia’s eye, she caught sight of her own reflection. Snowflakes had gotten caught in her hair, and they sparkled, as if the two of them weren’t just surrounded by stars but were becoming the stars themselves.
“Yeah,” Sophia said quietly, like they were huddled under a blanket at night and not on top of the roof of her school’s theater. “It would be nice. My eyes are already used to finding yours.”
In that heartbeat, Daniela realized she wouldn’t mind looking at Sophia forever.
The snow kept falling, and they sat there together until Daniela’s stomach groaned. The snow wasn’t beautiful enough to distract her body from its hunger, it seemed. “We should get dinner,” said Sophia. “I’ll take you out for dinner.” And Daniela nodded. But they stayed there for a while longer.
Snow kept falling, and they stayed there together.