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Sana had never fallen in love before. Not really, anyway. Not until she met Hirai Momo, followed by the sudden addition of Nayeon, and then she finally understood what love felt like.
Since she was a child she always had this idea of love, relationships, and how they’re supposed to work. She believed love meant having butterflies in your stomach every time you see your significant other, she thought it meant cuddling every night with them, legs intertwined. She thought it meant being happy all of the time, so happy to be together you’d always want to sleep on a double bed with them.
But it’s not really like that. Not always, she realized.
Sana, Momo and Nayeon had been together for a couple of years now, and if anything could describe their relationship, it wasn’t exactly the word normal. But they were happy that way.
Sana remembered the first time she met Momo. It was the first time she ever felt those butterflies in her stomach, and they stayed there, too, every single time the other girl did as much as smile at her. It was something new, exciting and scary. Really, really scary. In fact, Sana didn’t recall being so scared of anything that much before she had met Momo.
When they met Nayeon, she remembers feeling scared as well. She remembers this strange, new feeling of wanting something to work out so badly it probably would’ve broken her if it didn’t (of course, it wouldn’t have, she still had her Momo).
But then both, Momo first and then Nayeon, had taken away every single one of those fears with each touch. Every single time they were together they managed to prove to Sana that this, in fact, was true love. When she felt like she couldn’t hold it in for much longer, Nayeon had been there to hold her protectively, Momo never letting go of her hand. When she felt the loneliest, Nayeon would kiss her temple, whisper how much she loved her just as Momo kissed them both goodnight and just like that, she would remember she wasn’t alone, because they both had been there to take her hand and reassure her. When she felt like she was losing her way and made mistakes, her girlfriends had been there to forgive. And sure, they had made their mistakes too, but they were learning.
And so time went on, and Momo and Nayeon never let go of Sana’s hand.
After some time together, Sana noticed she stopped getting the butterflies. She noticed her heart no longer sped up when she saw Momo’s smile or heard Nayeon’s laughter, but instead, everything slowed down. When she spent time with her girlfriends she felt calm, and secure. Like nothing would ever hurt her as long as she got to keep her fingers intertwined with theirs and never let go. When they cuddled she could feel Momo’s heart beat slowing down, and the sound of Nayeon’s breathing hitting against her neck carried her towards comfort. She didn’t feel like she was in an exciting, scaring rollercoaster anymore. She was home.
They didn’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between her girlfriends’ so tight it was hard to tell where Sana’s body began and Momo or Nayeon’s ended.
Instead, they slept comfortably, side by side, sometimes even facing different directions. But every single night, Sana found herself scooting backwards on the bed so she would bump into one of the loves of her life. And she snuggled against Nayeon’s arm, or stroked Momo’s hair as she fell asleep. And they were nights when either of them, in their sleep, reached forward and pulled Sana to her, like a child with their teddy bear, like she also was their comfort and they never wanted to let go.
In the early hours of the morning, right before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and Sana can barely see through crackled and tired eyes, she curls into Momo’s chest with Nayeon’s arms around her and inhales their mixed scent before drifting back to sleep.
Their kisses weren’t always romantic and passionate anymore. But there were so much more of them now. There are breathy kisses when they finally get time alone, cold kissed when it’s finally summer and they’re eating ice cream together, and sticky kisses with maple syrup in their mouth over breakfast pancakes Nayeon had prepared. There’s “I’m going now” kisses, and “one more kiss before you go” kisses. There are sleepy morning kisses before one of them has to work, when Sana doesn’t even remember the alarm going off but instead the press of Momo’s lips against her own and Nayeon’s hands on her is what brings her into the day.
There’re kisses before sleep, and you make me happy kisses. There’re kisses because Sana treats everyone so tenderly, and I’m so happy I ended up with both of you and not someone else kisses. There’re sneaky kisses in public, or “you didn’t kiss me too”, kisses. There’s “I love you” kisses, there’s quick kisses when they go grocery shopping together, when its loud and they gravitate together, when instead of having their own personal space, its theirs together, and Sana steps into Nayeon’s chest without letting go of Momo to take up less area together.
They don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like they used to, because that’s a given now, and they’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life they so happily built together. They share looks of exasperations and amusement in public, or when they’re with their friends, their own little world against the outside one.
And it’s then when Sana realizes, cuddled up in her girlfriends’ arms in the late hours of the night as Momo’s chest goes up and down in a slow pace as she sleeps peacefully, Nayeon’s hand sleepily clinging onto her shirt, she was wrong when she was younger.
Relationships aren't always a fairytale. They aren’t always fireworks and sparks, at least, not after the start.
Instead, they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in Sana’s soul, but it’s one in her heart, keeping her warm and comfortable as she drowsily drifts into sleep.
And she loves that.