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To put it lightly, Alya was unprepared.
Don’t get confused: this was definitely a moment that Alya had dreamed about for nearly two years–dreamed about, fantasized about, pined for. She had conjured up every single scenario of how this whole scene could play out...or so she thought. There was no way she heard her right...was there?
Alya replayed the conversation in her head once, twice, three times. It had started...normal, right? She’d just made an innocent joke about being bi–something she did pretty much all the time since coming out to Marinette half a year ago. Then, when asked if she had ever kissed a girl, Alya casually told her friend the truth: no. What she wasn’t prepared for was the response.
“What are you waiting for?”
In all honesty, it was a perfectly innocent question. The thing that made Alya’s brain go numb was the person asking it. Along with the fact that the person in question was in her pajamas, sitting less than a foot away on the bed, and the soft blue light from the TV was the only thing illuminating her face.
Listen, it is very possible to be “just friends” with someone really attractive. She and Marinette had been best friends for two years now! Once she realized she was bisexual, nothing changed between them. It was just...harder. Harder to look away when her best friend casually changed her clothes in front of her. Harder to listen to her talk about different boys she had crushes on. Harder to ignore the way her hot breath felt on the back of her neck when they had sleepovers.
Alya would be lying if she said she didn’t feel guilty about it. Hell, she felt like could drown in guilt half the time. There were times when Alya would deliberately avoid Marinette in those kinds of situations because she felt like a complete pervert. Nothing like a daily dose of shame to make Alya question whether or not her sexuality was something to be proud of!
For the most part, it was fine. Alya was just...happy to be along for the ride. She could go her whole life without voicing her feelings if it meant she could spend that time with Marinette…besides, sexuality wasn’t really something she could talk about with her. When she had come out, Marinette had been supportive: she’d asked a few questions and now, occassionally laughed at her “gay jokes,” but for the most part, it wasn’t something they talked about. Alya didn’t pursue that–she was too afraid of pushing her away that she did the absolute minimum to make her uncomfortable.
But, if she’s being honest with herself, on occasion Alya allowed herself to wonder.
What would it be like to be closer?
What did it feel like to be with a girl?
Were those lips as soft as they looked...?
“...Alya?” Marinette’s soft voice was the only sound in the loft. She cleared her throat awkwardly, the noise shaking Alya from her reverie. She blinked, meeting Marinette’s shining blue eyes.
“ Guh...ff..um, ” Alya replied, the epitome of grace. “Sorry, uh. W-What did you say?”
Marinette’s cheeks were rosy before, but now she was blushing a deep tomato red.
Wait, Marinette was blushing?
Alya was already mentally kicking herself for making Marinette uncomfortable when her friend interrupted her train of thought.
“I...I uh, I meant like...why haven’t you kissed a girl yet? You’ve been on a couple dates, but you always told me they didn’t work out…” Marinette trailed off uncertainly.
As much as she hated herself for it, Alya found herself disappointed.
Of course it wasn’t an invitation, you idiot. Can’t you be normal for one minute???
Alya forced out an indifferent chuckle, shrugging. “Ha, well, they just didn’t click with me, you know? Not my type I guess.”
She was lying through her teeth. She couldn’t say what the real reason was for waiting so long–it was stupid, but she was holding out the hope that someone in particular would, well…
Marinette blinked, her blue eyes unreadable. “So, what is your type then?”
Alya felt her insides crumble. God, if you’re out there, kill me now .
“ Nice ? I guess?”
A beat of silence passed between them for a moment, and then it was broken, absolutely shattered as Marinette burst into a fit of laughter.
Alya blushed, but she couldn’t help but join Marinette in her infectious giggles. She put a finger to her lips and tried to shush her, but instead the sounds came out as breathy hisses of laughter.
“Shhhh–hahahah–shhh dude! We’re gonna–hahahaha–wake up your parents!”
Marinette tried to quiet herself, instead making herself snort, which only resulted in more restrained laughter from both of them. They were shaking now, leaning against each other for support.
“Shh!”
“You shush!!!”
“ You started it,” Marinette accused. She rolled her eyes and laughed again. “God, ‘ nice .’”
Alya held out her hands defensively. “Hey, shut up! I didn’t know what to say!”
“So, wait, so you don’t have a type then? I’m confused.” Despite her words, Marinette didn’t look confused.
“Um,” Alya looked away. “You could say I’m…” she gulped, “waiting for the right person I guess.”
Marinette chewed her lip, nodding thoughtfully. Alya tried not to stare too much; it was hard controlling her thoughts when she was so close.
The TV in front of them kept rolling; they’d muted it some time ago, but the movement on the screen still sent flashes of blue flickering across the room. Alya turned to watch it silently, wishing for the hundredth time that she didn’t like girls.
Don’t get her wrong, the idea of being bisexual excited her. She dreamed about the day she could go to a pride parade, wearing that beautiful pink-purple-and blue flag around her shoulders, surrounded by other queer folks to remind her that she wasn’t wrong or broken. Maybe, if she was lucky, she would have someone by her side there. But for now, bisexuality felt like a mean joke God was playing on her. Alya felt like her ability to even talk to other girls was barred by her attraction to them. She felt wrong. She felt like a total skeezeball, unable to hang out with her best friend without thinking about kissing her. And if she messed it up with Marinette, she’d be alone.
“Alya.”
Marinette’s voice was impossibly soft, just barely over a breath.
Alya turned to face her, startled to find that Marinette’s face was just inches from her own.
When had she moved so close? Did I get in her space without realizing?
The low light from the TV screen washed over Marinette’s soft features–it glinted in her dark hair and shone in her blue eyes. Alya felt like couldn’t breathe. She forced herself to sound casual.
“Yeah, what's up, Mari?”
Marinette bit her lip again, not breaking eye contact. Alya could barely make it out, but she noticed that Marinette was shaking. She wanted to reach out and comfort her, but she was so close. Alya could feel their knees touching under the blanket, and the sensation of Marinette’s breath on her face was almost enough to knock her out. Alya was frozen.
“I–” Marinette cleared her throat, her voice a whisper, “I’ve um, been wondering. You know. After-a-after you came out to me a while ago, I know I’ve been awkward about it all, and I try to be supportive but I know I might be offensive sometimes–”
Alya cut off her rambling, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder without thinking.
“Oh my god, no, no no no, Mari, you’re totally fine! You’re never offensive at all–”
“Alya,”
“M-Marinette?” Alya could feel her cheeks burning.
Marinette let out a deep breath.
“I just...ever since you told me you were bisexual, I couldn’t...really stop thinking about it. I really um, couldn’t stop thinking about...you..?”
Alya’s lungs felt like they were squeezing shut.
“ Oh ?” Her voice was at least an octave higher than usual.
Marinette was looking everywhere now, refusing to meet Alya’s eyes. “Yeah, I...I guess it just made me think a lot about me and my sexuality...a-and...y-you, I guess.”
At this, Marinette looked up sheepishly at her friend, and then, she began to raise her hand. She hesitated at first, then quickly, as if she was trying to move before she could talk herself out of it. Alya felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Marinette’s hand lifted, then settled itself on Alya’s cheek, brushing her red hair behind her ear.
Alya tried to say something, do anything , but it was no use.. She was petrified, watching wide-eyed, afraid to move, as if everything could crumble all around her like a dream at any second.
Marinette blushed, a deep red that almost matched Alya’s. “Can...C-Can I..?” Marinette stammered out, not daring to finish her sentence. She licked her lips.
Slowly, breathlessly, Alya nodded.
The two girls slowly–unsure, but more sure than anything–began to lean towards each other, closing their eyes, their heads angling ever so slightly. And then it happened: after months of pining, daydreaming, fantasizing of what the other would feel like, their lips met. The kiss was soft, with a warm pressure underneath. A few moments passed, and the girls parted but didn’t pull back; their faces were still centimeters from each other. In that moment, in that kiss–it was like the whole world had shifted. They were still two girls, still sitting in a dimly lit bedroom, still up too late...but now, things were different.
Alya looked at Marinette with half-lidded eyes. Her heart was still racing as fast as it was when Marinette leaned in; or, perhaps even faster now as she realized...she wanted more . Without thinking, Alya shifted her weight, her hand reaching up to Marinette’s neck. Her fingers glided through her friend’s hair as smoothly as she dreamed they would. She pulled her into another kiss, and another, and another. Each one was softer and sweeter than the last. Alya felt Marinette’s hot breath in her mouth and something inside her seemed to click. She clutched Marinette’s hair a little tighter now, kissing her more insistently. Marinette gasped–for a second, Alya wondered if she was going too far, but then, Alya felt Marinette’s other hand snake under her arm and around her back, pulling her even closer.
God, Alya thought, if this is a dream, please don’t ever wake me up.
Right then, Marinette slipped her tongue into Alya’s mouth, and something inside of Alya broke. A small, weak moan escaped her lips, and was echoed by one of Marinette’s own. Almost frenzied, Alya’s other hand darted out and grabbed Marinette’s waist. Marinette mirrored her, their arms completely wrapped around each other now. As they kissed, Marinette’s hands traveled: sliding up into her hair, tracing the nape of her neck, then sliding down Alya’s back, resting only at the bare patch of skin that lay where the hem of her shirt stopped. A jolt of electricity went down Alya’s spine at the touch. She pulled back, and their lips parted with a soft, wet pop.
Alya watched as Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. Her face was red and the wet of her lips shone from the light of the TV. Her dark hair was mussed and each breath was almost labored, her chest rising and falling and oh god don’t think about her chest right now.
Marinette looked at her, dazed for a moment, and then a look of intense worry passed her face.
“Is everything...okay? Oh god, are you okay? Is this okay?”
“Yes!” Alya blurted. “Yes! Hell yes of course, yes, definitely!”
The girls stared at each other, and quiet giggles bubbled out of their throats.
Silence again.
“I, um,” Alya didn’t know where to begin. “I had...no idea you felt this way…”
“I didn’t know you did either,” Marinette breathed.
Alya fought down a lump in her throat. Then, before she could stop herself: “Marinette, I’ve wanted to...to do this for a very long time. I knew I was bisexual, but I couldn’t think of any other girls but you. A-And-and I felt so bad! I didn’t want to be creepy or anything but I just…”
Alya searched in Marinette’s eyes for the right words. Marinette stared back at her, wide-eyed and breathless.
“You’re my best friend. I...I’m happy to love you as a friend, I really am, but,” Alya gulped. “ I want to love you as more, too .”
As soon as the confession left her lips, Alya felt something she never expected: relief.
Marinette gaped at her, words failing. She took a deep breath, gulped, and took one of Alya’s hands in hers. She brought it up to her own cheek, leaning into Alya’s palm. She stared into Alya’s brown eyes, her own brimming with tears.
“Oh Alya,” she breathed, “I want that too.”
The two girls looked at each other, faces filled with relief and hope, and pressed their foreheads together with twin exhales. The TV flickered its blue light, and the pair held one another, finally feeling at home.