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Adena is still in her arms, standing there in the kitchen, when she presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Let’s go get comfy,” Kat says, voice soft, and Adena nods.
She heads upstairs to strip out of her bar clothes and change into a sleep shirt, and Adena is still in the bathroom washing her face when she comes back down. The bathroom door is cracked open, and she knows she could step in to share the mirror and the sink if she wanted to, but she sits at the foot of the bed instead.
Because she thinks maybe Adena needs a moment to herself, after everything, and the more time her girlfriend takes in the bathroom the more she knows she was right to hesitate in entering.
When the door opens, Adena’s hair is loose around her shoulders and there’s a weariness in her eyes no longer camouflaged by make-up. She stands from the bed, silently smiles and kisses Adena’s forehead as they cross paths between the mezzanine and the bathroom. Adena hums and holds her hips for just a moment.
There are tears in Kat’s eyes when she looks herself in the mirror and she swallows it down, grips at the edge of the sink with her hands.
All she wants to do is revel in Adena’s, “I love you” but all she can hear is—
I’m in a relationship in a country that doesn’t want me.
I’m scared.
Something inside of her is cracking open, a tenuous fragile piece of herself that she’s been silencing ever since a 90-day clock was stamped into her joy. A piece that’s terrified of Adena being torn away from her, and angry that their love doesn’t get to breathe easy.
She wipes at her eyes, clenches her jaw and blinks down before this overtakes her. Before her grief and fury cave in on her and collapse her to the tiled floor of this bathroom. The breath she releases is shallow, fragmented, lungs resisting her command to slow, to breathe.
Removing her make-up gives her something to do, and she is methodical with the cotton balls and the wash rag to her face, until something like composure manages to resurface.
Adena is snuggled under the duvet, back to the headboard, when she steps out of the bathroom to join her. The look that her girlfriend gives her is tender but searching, as if she can sense all that her face is hiding, and Kat smiles to reassure her.
She crawls across the bed, joins Adena under the covers and lays flat, head to her pillow.
“C’mere,” she encourages quietly, dropping any pretense that this isn’t what they both need right now.
Adena slides down and cuddles into her immediately, head resting in the curve of her shoulder, and Kat wraps both arms around her to hold her.
Silence settles between them, and she reaches her hand up to trace her fingers through Adena’s hair, feels her heart expand in her chest when Adena burrows closer, nose brushing her neck.
She holds her close, protective in her posture, as if that could be enough somehow, and Adena’s breath is hot against her skin. There is an unsteady rhythm to the way Adena’s ribs expand against hers and there is moisture clinging to her neck, and she knows that Adena is crying.
“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, steady, even as tears collect in her own eyes, spilling down her temple. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”
The soft weight of Adena’s body is pressed into hers, warm and anchoring, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trembling as she lets Adena release all of the fear that she’s been hiding. There’s a knot of guilt that lodges in her stomach, twisting, because she never let herself truly consider that Adena might be scared. Because she’s been letting Adena take care of her, steering them through so many firsts.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, chest aching, because that’s all that makes sense right now. “I’m so sorry, Adena.”
Adena sniffles and shakes her head, leans up on her elbow. Her eyes are tear-streaked but there is a fierce determination in them, and Adena strokes her cheek, meeting her gaze.
“Don’t apologize,” she says, voice thick with emotion. There is a rebuttal on her tongue, an explanation, but Adena silences her with another shake of her head. Then Adena is leaning in, is capturing her lips in a fervent and desperate kiss.
She leans into it, holds Adena’s wet cheek with the palm of her hand and anchors the both of them. It isn’t like earlier. This kiss is not an avoidance.
It is unspoken love and life and resistance, bearing all of the tenderness that the world is trying to refuse them.
She answers with passion, savors the feeling of Adena’s lips on hers, the pleasure and warmth that flows through her limbs. Adena clings to her, molds their bodies together, and every flick of her tongue, every quiet moan, is a riot.
Loving Adena is a revelation that blossomed into inevitability, and loving Adena is a protest. Against everything that seeks to deny her, to deny them, against every obstacle and refusal.
Kat kisses her fiercely, until they feel unhurried, until Adena is smiling into her mouth, is gently stroking her neck. When they finally part, Adena is in her lap and there are still tears in her eyes but there is also a joy that refuses to be quiet.
She reaches up, tucks Adena’s hair behind her ear and strokes her thumb along her cheek, past the tear tracks.
She feels dumb for getting nervous again, for the way the words anxiously catch in her throat when—
“I love you.”
It feels important right now, to say it again. Adena’s eyes widen a fraction, and then her smile is radiant, holding Kat’s face in her hands.
“Asheghetam.” Adena presses another kiss to her lips, sniffles and holds her close. “I love you too.”
Her arms are loose around Adena’s back and she dips her head down, nuzzles into her collarbone, breathes in her perfume and holds her in a hug.
“I’m in this with you,” she whispers, and all she can think of is JFK Airport and love and longing. “Remember?”
Adena hugs her back, wraps her arms around her shoulders.
“Of course.”
The words are murmured into her hair, aching with the memory of that day, and Kat holds her tighter.
“I’m scared too.” She confesses it into the quiet, into the soft cotton of Adena’s sleep shirt, because it feels impossible to hide it any longer. “Of what might happen. I try not to show it, but…”
“We’ve both been putting on a brave face,” Adena says, gentle as ever, and it gives them both permission. To be scared together, knowing that the fear doesn’t make them weak, that it’s not a concession.
“Yeah.”
She thinks that Adena is going to say more, but the silence lingers and there are some fears that no amount of talking can fix. Her girlfriend leans out of their embrace, moves to situate herself more fully under the covers again.
“Lay with me?”
She nods immediately, pulls the duvet up around her shoulders and snuggles in beside her. Adena turns on her side, tangles their fingers together and tugs at her arm until Kat is spooning her. Adena doesn’t let go of her hand, and she presses her arm to Adena’s stomach, holding her close.
Adena relaxes against her, and she feels the way that Adena’s breathing settles, the way her ribs expand and release slower as the minutes pass, softer. Like her body feels safe enough to drift to sleep, safe enough to dream.
“I’ve got you.”
Her words are barely a whisper this time, blending into the quiet, into the pillow and the warmth of Adena, before sleep overtakes her.