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Panam never knew what home meant. She felt trapped with the Aldecaldos, always overlooked and underappreciated, and lost in Night City, an insignificant cog in a ceaseless, poorly oiled machine. She yearned for a place to belong, somewhere she could make a difference and have a family, but nothing and no one seemed to want her.
Then she met V, and, before she even realized, V became her home.
Home was wherever V was. She could be living in a torn cardboard box, under a rusted, leaky stairwell, in the heaping trash piles beneath an overpass, didn’t fucking matter so long as V was there too, and suddenly such pitiful, dreary places could become esteemed sanctuaries.
The best part was Panam couldn’t say how it happened. One moment she was living life without V, miserable, fury fueling her every move, the next V showed up on her motorcycle while Panam was frustrated over her rig, talked to her like she was an actual person rather than the angry little girl she was so often treated, and then they were inseparable. Panam couldn’t recall a certain day or specific conversation that enforced their relationship, that solidified their friendship to the point of everlasting loyalty; it just happened so seamlessly, so naturally, like their bond was meant to be.
It was one of the only things that made sense in this unforgiving world, where people betrayed and cheated and butchered and flatlined for reasons beyond comprehension. Such tragedies were often too much for Panam to get a grip on so she forced herself to ignore them, focusing solely on herself and those she cared about and, more recently, V.
This bond was something Panam had never shared with another person. Something she never thought she would have; never thought she deserved. And she was grateful for it, for V, every single day.
Because, without V, she wouldn’t have gotten her life back. It wasn’t as if all her problems were magically fixed—tremendous effort was required on her part—but V gave her a push in the right direction. V gave her a true friend, someone she could count on, someone who would never judge her, and that mattered to Panam more than V could ever know.
Panam wasn’t the best with words, always said too much or too little, but hoped she could somehow convey to V how much she meant to her.
Everyone wanted something. Humans were selfish, merciless creatures, incapable of performing deeds merely out of the good in their heart. Each move was calculated so they could reap the highest possible benefits. Every offer of camaraderie was entwined with hidden barbed wire; dangerously inevitable ulterior motives.
That’s why Panam built so many walls. She couldn’t trust anyone. She wouldn’t let anyone close.
But V wasn’t like anyone else.
By all logic, based on everything instilled into Panam since childhood, V was someone who shouldn’t exist. She was too kind, too forgiving, too reasonable—to the point where she seemed unreasonable. She helped simply because she cared. Sure, perhaps she had personal goals she would achieve from her efforts, but she did so much for Panam without asking for anything in return; such a rare, selfless trait for someone bred in Night City.
How could someone grow up on those grimy, relentless streets and turn out like V?
Sometimes V would steal a sip of her beer, a bite of her food, take command of the radio in her rig, but never did she demand favours or debts. V always just wanted to help. She cared to the point where Panam had to remind herself that V’s smile wasn’t fake; that every word poured from her lips was genuine.
V had lost so much, had sacrificed so much, but she never let it harden her. Every time life held cold iron to her skull V managed to survive and overcome, swiping that iron and becoming ever stronger without losing her sense of self.
Panam asked her about it at camp one time, about how V managed to stay true to her core despite her upbringing and everything this fucked up world put her through. Panam recalled the firelight twinkling like boiling stars in her eyes that night. V never looked away from her, not once, and those blazing eyes burned her alive from the inside out; purifying Panam’s scorn and mistrust until she was reborn a phoenix that rose from the ashes of her doubts.
“True friends are hard to come by, and they mean everything,” V had said. “I wanna be that person for others if I can. Be that person for you. I had a true friend once. Jackie. Lost ‘im. Ain’t losing you, too.”
If someone asked Panam her favourite place to sleep she would’ve said “V’s shoulder” without thinking. She lost count of how many times she fell asleep there, whether after a taxing gig or a long night of drinking or simply because she craved a nap. Panam revelled in how comfy the other woman was. How safe she felt next to her. How she knew V would still be there when she woke up, unlike anyone she once shared a bed with.
Panam almost always woke up first and V in her sleepy state bordered on ethereal, Panam’s favourite morning sight; her private version of the golden hour often enjoyed on the road. She admired V’s crazy bed-head, thick, wild strands sticking every which direction. The sweetness of V’s breath fluttering her dreads and caressing her cheek combined with the lowest purrs rumbling from V’s chest. The gentle weight of V’s head atop her own, more grounding and soothing than any weighted blanket.
All V’s demons vanished in her blissful hours of sleep. The tautness in her jaw, the worried wrinkles at her brow, the frantic dart of her eyes like she was seeing something that wasn’t there; all those troubles stayed momentarily nonexistent. They wouldn’t exist again until she woke up and for that very reason Panam wished she could slow down time, maybe even freeze it, just to give V a second longer of peace and give herself a second longer to admire it.
This was how she wanted every morning to start. Warm, homely, safe. But every morning she also had a flash of fear, gone as quickly as it came, but its untimely presence evident in the nauseous coil in her gut.
What if this morning was the last?
That harrowing thought churned without fail, nearly grinding her brain to a paste. She and V led dangerous lives—V especially, being a solo. What if one day V didn’t pick up the phone? What if one day V’s work sent her far away, never to return? What if one day she found V’s body disposed in a dumpster like expired food; like she wasn’t the best thing to come out of Night City; the best thing in Panam’s life?
What if one day V wanted to wake up to someone else on her shoulder more?
Panam would always shake away such thoughts, forget about them for the rest of the day, but like clockwork they surfaced again the following sunrise, tormenting her just enough.
One night things between them changed. When they were stuck together in the abandoned building in the middle of the sandstorm.
Saul was sleeping in the other room, undoubtedly exhausted from his torture. She and V were chatting like normal on the couch, taking time to relax after their draining rescue mission. V had come through for her again, as always, coming to help without raising any sort of fuss or complaint.
Panam had rested her feet on V’s lap. Something like that wasn’t uncommon. She liked being close to V. Enjoyed the playful, comforting, even teasing affection they gave and took.
But then V’s hand touched her thigh in a new way, one Panam hadn’t expected. V gazed at her with hooded eyes, with desire. With love.
It shocked her. Scared her for reasons she couldn’t explain. So Panam rejected her.
And almost immediately Panam tried to take the words back because she never saw hurt glint in V’s eyes like that before. V pulled away like she’d been burned, like she’d committed some atrocity, and Panam wanted to say it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t do anything wrong, that she could touch her legs again, anything, but all the apologies and excuses were clogged in her throat, dry and dusty as if she inhaled the sand shaking the walls.
V tried to mask her pain under an awkward smile. It was forced, a door that didn’t quite sit right in its hinges. It was the first time V refused to be genuine around her; that she felt she had to hide around her.
Panam hated it. Hated seeing V look like that. Hated that she caused it. Hated that she couldn’t figure out how to make that look go away.
Panam learned that night what it felt like to break someone’s heart. To cut open the chest of the most important person in the world to her and squeeze until there was a sick, echoing squelch, crimson oozing between her fingers.
She wished someone had cut her open instead.
Physical touch was Panam’s love language, whether the relationship was platonic or romantic. Wrapping her arm around someone’s shoulders, playfully shoving their arm, bumping their hip, kisses on the cheek after one drink too many; merely how she showed affection. She never thought too much about it.
Panam noticed how V avoided physical contact with her after that night. How she’d slide just out of reach when Panam aimed to brush her arm or hold her hand, affection originally so typical. And it hurt. Everything was so thoughtless before, weightless, simple, and now V’s thoughts must be a constant whirlwind, trying so hard to avoid making Panam uncomfortable but all those efforts were backfiring.
Panam had never missed someone so much who was standing right next to her.
She wanted things back to how they were, when she and V could mould together without even thinking about it; puzzle pieces that naturally clicked and formed a breathtaking picture. But those pieces were different now, shapes altered, edges frayed, and could never fit the same way ever again.
It wasn’t fair of her to think this way. She knew this and hated herself for it. How could she be upset with V for caring about her so much? For probably caring about her more than anyone else ever had? How could something like that ever be a bad thing?
Did V think about her during the nights they spent apart? What it would be like to kiss her, touch her, wake up with her in a new way? A way their old picture of friendship never allowed?
It wasn’t something Panam should concern herself with. Nothing was going to happen between them, and the wandering thoughts in V’s mind weren’t her business.
So why did those thoughts make Panam so warm? Why did they make her want V’s attention? Why did they make her crave V’s familiar, comforting, rapidly fading touch more than ever before?
She just wanted to fall asleep on her shoulder again. She had been so worried of something snatching that opportunity away from her, something with V’s work, something beyond her control, and in the end it was her own hand that held the executioner’s axe. Being upset with V was pointless.
Being upset with herself was like returning to an abusive home.
V talked about another girl sometimes. Passing comments, mostly. Judy was her name, a name Panam didn’t realize she cared to remember until one restless night it wouldn’t stop repeating in her head like a tampered braindance. Panam should be happy for V. If V was moving on and finding happiness with a woman who could genuinely return her feelings, who could love her the way she deserved to be loved, then Panam should be happy for her.
So why wasn’t she? Why did it hurt? Why did her chest tighten at the thought of another woman making V smile?
Panam rejected her. She broke V’s heart. She had no right to be angry, or jealous, or whatever the hell this was. Yet she couldn’t shake the feelings away; how they twisted and wrecked her insides like a metal shredder. How they slithered into her bloodstream and infected her like a parasite, making her behave in ways that were not only incomprehensible, but unfair.
Panam thought she understood people, how they operated, what drove them, but everyday V proved that Panam had no understanding of herself.
When V finally told her the truth of what was going on with her, that she was dying, that if they didn’t raid Arasaka Tower to get the infected biochip safely removed from her head she would probably be dead within the next few days, Panam didn’t know what to do.
V woke her with that phone call in the middle of the night. Panam had been drowsy, delirious, lonely without her favourite shoulder to sleep on, and thought V was making a stupid joke like she often did.
She was not joking.
And after that Panam felt like she was the one dying. V mattered to her more than anyone. Without V, her life would be in complete shambles. She’d probably be dead, either in a ditch or inside. How was she supposed to live without V? How could the golden hour ever be beautiful again without her?
Food would be tasteless, beer would be stale, art would be ugly, sleep would be incessant night terrors, vegetation would rot, wildlife would perish, society would crumble, humanity would be irredeemable. Night City may as well burn to the ground without V. She was everything. She made everything better. She made everything in Panam’s life better.
Panam didn’t remember the drive there. The journey was a blur of colours and shapes, of bumps and sharp turns and never using the brakes, her desperation to see V, see her breathing, being the only thing that mattered, and she didn’t remotely settle until V was in her rig and they were on their way back to camp.
The ride was quieter than Panam would’ve liked but neither could figure out what to say. Their interactions were tense and brief until they sat on a cliff that night, stargazing away from the bustle of the family preparing for war—for a potential suicide mission. V was clearly scared, more than she usually allowed herself to be, and Panam was scared for her. The last time V looked even close to this scared was when Panam rejected her. A different type of fear, perhaps, but raw and consuming all the same. Panam had caused her so much pain then, was the worst person she knew in that moment, but now she was the only one who could take V’s pain away.
“You’ve done so much for us. For me. You’re an Aldecaldo, V. You’re family. We’re here for you.”
V avoided eye contact, legs held tight to her chest. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t want any of you risking your lives for me.”
“You’ve risked your life for us all the time. How is this any different?”
“You know it’s different. We’ll all be wanted if we raid that tower. None of you will be safe anymore if you do this.” V sighed, lip caught in her teeth, eyes glossed for a moment. “I know how important family is. I don’t want to break apart yours.”
“Ours.” Panam gripped her hand firmly, unwilling to let go, only speaking again once V met her gaze. “And you won’t be breaking us apart. This is what being true friends is all about, isn’t it? You’ve always been one for me. I never felt like I was enough of one for you. That’s gonna change.” In a softer voice, “I won’t let you die.”
Panam wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She believed in her words, believed in her passion, skill and determination, in the loyalty of her family, but would all that be enough to succeed? Would it be enough to save V?
It had to be. There was no other choice.
She fell asleep on V’s shoulder for the first time in forever, once again worrying it may be the last time.
She kept the goodbye brief because she refused to consider it a goodbye. Didn’t think it mattered. Was confident for all of three seconds that everything would be okay. But as soon as V went limp using Soulkiller Panam started to doubt herself. What if that was the last time she got to talk to V? What if she wasted their last moment together? Left so many things unsaid?
Waiting while V was hooked up to that machine, her comatose body floating in the water like a dead fish, was one of the hardest things Panam ever had to do. She paced back and forth until she swore she’d left a hole in the floor. She tore through the flesh of her lips until she tasted blood. Her leg bounced, fingers drummed, traced every hard bump of her iron, but no distraction was enough to keep her eyes from fretting over V.
Did she just say goodbye to V for good? Would Johnny Silverhand be in V’s body the next time those eyes opened? Did she lose her? Would an imposter take her place? Would all their efforts be wasted at the last second?
Images of Saul’s head being smashed in burned behind her eyelids and she furiously swiped away her tears. Him motionless, V motionless, it all swirled together into a cesspool of death and anguish. She kept thinking about how she made the wrong choices, how she should’ve done something better; how Saul shouldn’t have had to die and V never should’ve had to go through any of this.
Fuck the Arasaka’s, fuck Silverhand, fuck Night City, fuck everything and everyone that put them into this situation; who tried to take V from her; who tried to leave her homeless.
Splutters brought her back to reality and her feet moved her forward thoughtlessly, immediately seizing V from the water.
Those eyes she missed so much in such a short amount of time gazed up at her and Panam’s grew misty. She just knew it was her V. The V she couldn’t live without. She was alive and she was safe.
She was alive but her eyes were dead.
“Didn’t work,” V murmured, a phantasmal wisp in the still air like time had frozen. It sounded like her voice but it was lifeless, like the hope she harboured the last few months finally snuffed out and only the ashes of despair remained on her tongue. “Johnny’s gone. Body still thinks I’m him. I’ve got six months. Six... six months. All of this,” her body slumped in defeat, droplets spilling from her lashes in an illusion of tears, “was for nothing.”
Her voice cracked and Panam’s heart did the same.
Was this what it felt like getting her heart broken?
“No, no, this can’t be right. You said this would save you! Can’t you go back in and try again?” V didn’t answer even after Panam shook her shoulders. “Then we’ll find something else. It wasn’t a waste. It bought you some time. We’ll figure something out. We always do, don’t we? We’re a team. We’re a family.”
But V didn’t match her faux positivity. She looked so tired. So beaten. So ashamed.
Panam held her tightly.
“I’m sorry,” V whispered, head sagging on Panam’s shoulder, wet mop of hair chilling Panam’s skin. Those simple, broken words pierced deeper than any bullet ever could. “I’m so sorry.”
V blamed herself for everyone’s death. For Saul, for Teddy, for several people Panam never met but V always talked about fondly. And she knew V wasn’t just mourning herself and the recently departed, but every person that flatlined because of her choices; every person that flatlined just so V could live a few more months in a body that treated her soul like a virus.
A body that, one day, out of the blue, would shut down.
V distanced herself from the whole clan, even her, as if she would infect them just by being near them. It was the most depressed Panam had ever seen her. V always hid her feelings. Always took everything on by herself.
How many times did Panam need to tell her she wasn’t alone anymore?
“I never should have called you,” V said one day, barely audible over the desert gusts. “Then none of this would’ve happened.”
“Don’t you start with that.” Panam’s voice was sharper than intended but she was frustrated, concerned, needed V to understand. “I wanted to help you. Everyone here wanted to help you. We knew the risks. You’re family. And here, we do anything for family.”
“But in the end it was a waste. I’m still going to die.”
“We’re all going to die. You just happen to know the timeframe of yours. Don’t let that stop you from being optimistic or enjoying what you have here. You really want to spend the next half year miserable in bed torturing yourself with ‘what ifs?’”
V shrugged. “You’re worried, too. Don’t pretend otherwise. I’ve known you long enough to know what you’re thinking.”
“And I’ve known you long enough that I think I have the right to tell your gonk ass to shut the fuck up.”
The look of surprise she received was the most emotion from V in a long time and Panam yanked hold of it, refusing to lose this chance.
“V, you listen to me. You never wanted anyone to get hurt. You care about the people here. You want a life here. You deserve a life here and you deserve the chance to live longer. I want you to live, do you understand me?” She cupped her face tenderly, stroking skin, scars and implants, everything that made this face the one she always wanted to wake up to. “You’re my home.”
That seemed to grab V’s attention and she finally held her gaze, relaxing in her touch, perhaps finally allowing herself to enjoy it. Panam offered the softest smile she could muster.
“We’ve got clans all along the West Coast. We’ll go find them. Someone has to know something. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you dare give up on me.”
It took a few weeks but V finally got the fire in her eyes back. The will to live. The passion to try. The energy she brought to all her gigs, her battles, her relationships. Everything became a little easier after that, travelling and communication and downtime, even if they still hadn’t made any progress concerning V’s condition. The right mindset was the most effective first step and the rest of the group, Panam especially, reflected her vigour tenfold.
One day they had been talking about Saul, sharing memories, pouring him a drink, and somehow made a roundabout to talking about that fateful night they got stuck in a sandstorm.
“I avoided you for awhile after that,” V admitted, much to Panam’s surprise.
“Yeah, I noticed. It hurt.”
V winced. “I know. I’m sorry. Johnny kept calling me a pussy over it. Told me to man up and stop crying.”
“Crying?” she echoed, disbelief and guilt quieting the word. Panam had never seen V cry before, even after all this; after losing friends, family, her childhood home, even herself. She made V cry?
V wore a brave face that night, smiled despite her heartache, but after Panam fell asleep on her shoulder that night... did she cry?
Guilt gnawed harder at her stomach when V wore that same sad smile, looking a little embarrassed, as if realizing she said too much. “I was hurt and really scared,” she explained, rubbing her synthetic hands together, a gentle groan singing from her forearms where her mantis blades lay dormant. “I never wanted to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. But avoiding you did just that, didn’t it?”
Panam shifted in her seat, well aware V already knew the answer. “You never even called. Why?”
“Because I was trying so, so hard to get over you.” V’s shoulders slumped, her gaze falling away. “And I knew hearing your voice would just make me fall even deeper in love with you.”
Whatever Panam was about to say stilled on her lips, released in her next breath like a ghost. Panam had no idea just how greatly V suffered because of her. She had been so focused on herself, how V’s absence made her feel, that she never bothered to consider V was battling with so much more. Where all her actions seemed like the wrong ones. Where she felt guilty no matter what she did. Where everything hurt and the one person who could make it better was also the one causing it so the endless loop of heartache continued evermore.
“I’m sorry,” Panam eventually said, knowing such words weren’t enough but lost on what else to say. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
She just copied what V said and it made her feel bad, like she was lying, but it was the truth.
V shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. Can’t force yourself to like someone. Heart wants what the heart wants.”
“Still, maybe I could’ve worded it better. I didn’t mean to shut you down as harshly as I did. Never even gave you a chance to talk about it with me. I’m an asshole. That night must’ve sucked for you.”
“It was tough. Tougher than most. I was just so sure that there was something going on between us that I kinda went into shock.” She chuckled but it was self-deprecating. “My fault for assuming.”
“What did you do after? In those weeks you didn’t talk to me, I mean.”
“Threw myself into work, mostly. Anything to distract myself. Didn’t help having Johnny nag me to just snag a joytoy and fuck my problems away. At one point I even listened but I stopped halfway through. It just... didn’t feel right. I kept picturing your face and I just...”
V sighed, her whole body deflating.
“Y’know,” V said after a moment, “this whole time I’ve tried so hard to get over you. And it never worked.”
A spark lit inside Panam’s chest, travelling lower until she felt a small flicker in her belly. She wasn’t sure why, she wasn’t sure what it meant, but it reminded her of the adrenaline that coursed through her on the battlefield and the freedom of the wind sweeping through her hair on the road.
“What about Judy?” Panam asked, feeling breathless. “I thought...”
“Judy’s sweet. And I like her. Had way too many bad things happen to her and maybe I was one of them.” V shook her head. “She and I were always gonna go different ways in life, and she never made me feel the way you do.”
The humid flickering in Panam’s belly grew stronger, irrefutable, lit dynamite lining her stomach like it could burst at any moment. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating, barely able to stay in place. What was this? Why was she feeling like this?
“My feelings for you haven’t changed,” V said, maintaining eye contact, the old fire Panam loved burning behind those eyes. “I know you’re not into women and I know I don’t have a chance, but I hope knowing this doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to avoid you again. I want to live, but if I do die in half a year, I want to spend the last part of my life with the person who matters most to me. And that’s you.”
V’s hands were shaking. She sounded so sure of herself, so determined to be honest, but it must have been so hard for her to say all that. Even after everything they had been through, the thought of scaring Panam away must petrify her.
She was so stupid. Panam abandoning her was the one thing she should never be scared of. It wasn’t going to happen.
After a moment V continued sheepishly, “M-maybe that’s a little selfish, but—”
Panam shook her head. “After everything you’ve been through you deserve to be a little selfish. And there’s nothing selfish about wanting to be happy. No matter what happens, V, you’ve got me.” She rested her hand over V’s, squeezing gently. “I’m staying. You’re never getting rid of me.”
Finally V’s shaking calmed, her hands loosening enough for Panam to interlace their fingers. V’s hand was so warm, so nice in hers, that matching puzzle piece she sorely missed. It still felt so natural, thoughtless, but unlike before Panam was actively thinking about how much she wanted to hold her closer, squeeze her tighter, maintain the contact for as long as possible.
But V pulled away, perhaps worried about holding Panam’s hand for too long, how such a thing could be interpreted, and Panam’s palm had never felt colder.
Panam caught herself looking at V more than she used to. Not that she didn’t look at V all the time with how often they were in each other’s company. But the way she looked at her was different.
At first it was aspects noticeable from far away, things probably anyone could notice. The sheen of her celestially lethal mantis blades in the harsh sunlight. Her focused gaze and calm stance when she brandished her iron. The layer of sweat making her skin glow like gold as she trained with another family member. The curve of her spine and whip of her hair when she whizzed by on her motorcycle.
And then came more intimate details after a longer look, like how some waves of her hair had brightened under increased exposure to the sun. The endless depths of her eyes, like dark caverns, and how they were speckled with more than one colour. The beads of sweat that dripped down her high cheekbones, her slender neck, into the dips of her sharp collarbone. Her rippling biceps, her abs, the sliver of skin revealed at her stomach when she stretched and her tank top pulled up. The fullness of her breasts, their shape whenever V leaned forward, their softness whenever V was pressed against her.
This wasn’t how someone looked at their friend. Panam knew this. But V was just a friend to her, right? So why were her thoughts so jumbled and confused? This shouldn’t be difficult to understand.
V was her friend. A true friend. Her best friend. A friend she relied on, poured her heart out to, sparred with, stared at while she sparred with others, rode a rig with that linked their minds as one, cuddled with, slept with, admired while she slept, thought about all the time, went on a desperate suicide mission for because she couldn’t imagine life without her...
Panam denied it for as long as possible, but it was only a matter of time before she broke.
Sure enough, one night it hit her how absolutely fucking stupid she was.
Panam had never been interested in women. Hell, that aspect of this whole thing still confused her. She never gave it much thought before and suddenly it was staring her in the face, demanding her comprehension. She still wasn’t sure if she was attracted to women. It was too early for her to know. But she liked V. Liked V’s body, her mind, her soul, everything that made her who she was.
Liked how V felt pressed up against her. Liked how V’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. Liked how V’s smile was always a bit more genuine when they spoke in private. Liked how V always knew when to give her space or give her a shoulder to lean on. Liked how V let her make her own choices but always offered a helping hand. Liked the little butterflies that tickled her stomach when V was around. Liked how her first instinct whenever she saw V was to be closer.
Why did she deny this to herself for so long? What was she so afraid of? How could she hurt V this much and make her wait this long? She should’ve figured this out so long ago but she was terrified to face her own feelings; terrified of whatever insecurities and vulnerabilities such confessions would bring forth; terrified that somehow being closer to V would result in losing her.
What if she had lost V before coming to terms with them? What if she never got to tell her?
She couldn’t waste another second. She didn’t care how late it was. She needed V to know. She didn’t want another minute to go by with V thinking she didn’t reciprocate her feelings.
She hurried to V’s tent, ducking under the flap to see V reading on her cot, the book nearly slipping from her hands.
“Panam?” she questioned with an adorable yawn. “It’s late.”
“I know, I just...” She was so enthusiastic before but now that she had V in her sights she felt like a nervous schoolgirl, words caught in her throat and heart hammering in her chest.
This shouldn’t be hard. She already knew V loved her. Why was this so hard?
“Can we talk?” she pushed past her lips.
V was suddenly much more awake, scooting over so Panam could sit. “Always. What’s wrong?”
Panam stared in her lap for a moment, playing with her fingers, stalling. She felt V’s eyes on her but V never pressed for an answer, giving her the time and space she desperately needed. V was considerate like that, empathetic and kind; even more reasons Panam was falling for her.
“I just...” Panam huffed, trying again, “I’ve been doing some thinking. About you. Us.”
“Okay. And?”
“I think—no, I know—I want to be more than friends.”
It took V a moment to respond. “What?”
It was spoken so quietly Panam wondered if she imagined it, yet simultaneously that one word clung heavily in the air and Panam felt it choking her, her chest and throat tight as a vice, and all of a sudden it was a challenge to keep V’s wide-eyed gaze.
“I’m... I’m still coming to terms with it,” Panam said, hands squeezing her knees. “Liking a woman is new territory for me so please give me time to figure all that out. But I do like you, V. I really like you. I’m sorry my head was so far up my ass that I didn’t realize that.”
She expected V to be happy but she looked more worried than before.
“Panam, you don’t have to do this, okay? I want to be with you but not if you don’t genuinely want that, too. I’m more than happy to keep being friends.”
Panam shook her head, shifting closer. “I’m scared of losing you, especially when it feels like I just got you back. But if you’re only around for a few more months, I want these months to be the happiest and freest of our lives. And if—when—we find a cure, well, we can look forward to being even happier.”
“Are you sure? I appreciate the sentiment Panam, and I can see that you’re trying, but if you’re not a hundred percent serious about this then please don’t force anything.” V’s eyes fell, a fissure in her expression paving way for the shred of pain that never left. Then, a murmur, maybe more to herself, “My heart can’t take this again.”
It hurt so much seeing V like that and Panam would do anything to make that look go away. Words weren’t working, and she didn’t really know what else to say, but her actions always spoke louder.
She wrapped a hand around V’s neck, tugged her forward, and kissed her. Panam wasn’t sure what to expect at first, how kissing a woman would compare to kissing a man, but found she wasn’t thinking about that at all. She was kissing V, whose lips were warm and soft and wonderful, that held beautiful smiles and a clever tongue and gracious words, and that was all that mattered.
The barest response from V, a quiver of hope in the gentle movement of her lips.
“Was that okay?” Panam whispered after pulling back.
V bit her lip. “Y-yeah.”
The slight tremor in her voice only enticed Panam closer. “Can I kiss you again?”
A curl of lips, barely restrained relief and excitement. “Yeah.”
V’s touch was firmer this time, hands gently cradling Panam’s face, proving every ounce of love she possessed through this kiss. Panam’s heart drummed steadily against her ribcage, melting under the affections of the one who loved her so much; how love could make something as simple as a kiss feel electric; magnetic, pulling Panam in deeper until the air was stolen from her lungs. Months worth of bottled up feelings released itself through this kiss and Panam was panting by the end of it as they rested their foreheads together.
She breathed in V’s sweet air, a honeyed chuckle filling the microscopic space between them. “You believe I’m serious, now?” Panam asked playfully, though the words lowered with intended reassurance.
V nodded, eyes shining, stroking Panam’s cheek with her thumb. “I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”
Such a cheesy thing to say, would’ve been a lie from anyone else’s lips, but V proved numerous times she was unlike anyone else, and Panam’s heart skipped a beat.
“You gonk.” Panam buried her head in the familiar dip between V’s neck and shoulder. “I’ve been happy since the day I met you.”
The next morning Panam found herself curled into V’s side. She was used to waking up on V’s shoulder, occasionally her lap, but there was something so much better with waking up and having V’s arm holding her close.
Like always, she woke up first, getting to admire V while she slept. This was easily the most peaceful she’d looked in a long time. Maybe the most since they’d met.
V departed her slumber slowly, with low grumbles and small movements before her eyes fluttered open. They peered around for a second, registering where she was, then widened at the realization that something was different than usual. V blinked a few times, fingers curling around Panam’s shirt, and Panam just giggled, snuggling closer.
“Wow,” V eventually breathed, voice groggy with sleep. “Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?”
Panam stretched her neck up to kiss her cheek. “Nope. The real deal.”
That’s what she said, so confidently too, but this felt just as surreal to her.
V suddenly looked so shy, glancing away with the cutest flush tingeing her cheeks. Panam wanted to tease her about it but wanted to stare even more; to bask in their first quiet morning as a couple.
It took too long for them to make it this far—Panam would deliver a swift kick in the ass to her past self if she could—but it was all worth it for the way V was looking at her; with eyes overflowing with love. How, for one minute, did Panam think she didn’t want this? That V wasn’t the person she wanted to spend her life with?
“We’re hitting the road again today,” Panam said. “Ready to get one step closer to your cure?”
V bit her lip, stroking Panam’s arm with her fingers. “Maybe in a few minutes?”
A shy attempt to convince her to stay in bed for a little longer. Still too worried to tug her closer, to speak the words without a questioning lift. Still leaving everything up to Panam; letting Panam decide their pace.
Panam couldn’t resist her. Not anymore. Never again. She’d never let V feel bad for how she felt ever again. She’d never let V think she didn’t want her ever again.
She kissed V, a sensation she hoped she’d never get used to, before moulding back against her side. She smiled as V curled around her like a warm cocoon, both their bodies relaxing.
Before, Panam didn’t know what she wanted; where she wanted to be; what home meant. V struggled with that, too, and both of them nearly lost their way.
Then they met each other, and, before they even realized, became each other’s home.