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The first time she saw her, she was writing in it.
Fatin was sitting in the back of the classroom, scrolling through Instagram, when some unknown force pulled her eyes toward the girl who she hadn’t ever noticed before and kept them there. The girl was hunched over her desk, hair in a messy bun, furiously scribbling in a notebook, with another book open next to her. It looked like the book they had to read this semester, something by an alumnus?
Mrs Wolfe was explaining something, but it didn’t seem like the girl was taking notes (not that Fatin was, but what the hell do you write in a notebook except for school stuff?).
“So, Leah, what are your opinions on that?”
Fatin felt second-hand embarrassment for the girl, apparently named Leah, whose head snapped up and whole body tensed.
“Um… I-”
Mrs Wolfe interrupted her and said, “Not paying attention, thought so. Disappointing, Miss Rilke.”
She could see the girl tense up even more, head bowed down. Protectiveness flared up in Fatin, and the words came out before she could even think about it, “I think it’s pretty clear that she was taking notes. I’m sure she’ll know the answer if you just repeat the question.”
Mrs Wolfe stared at her for a moment, Fatin felt all the eyes of her classmates on her, but she was used to that and kept eye contact with Mrs Wolfe, her back straight to show confidence like her mother had taught her. It felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than seconds. Mrs Wolfe finally broke the glaring contest and turned to the girl again, who looked less uncomfortable than before, “Is this true, Leah?”
“Yeah,” Leah said, her voice cracked in the middle of the word, it sounded endearing, and Fatin mentally kicked herself for the thought.
“Well, I asked, what are your thoughts on the meaning of the waiting room?” Mrs Wolfe said, one eyebrow raised, expecting Leah to fail.
“Well, I think the waiting room is a metaphor for the main character feeling stuck, and that’s why the room is described so thoroughly,” Fatin had no idea what the book was about, but Leah’s voice was calming and unique and she could listen to it all day.
“Very good, Leah, please do pay attention from now on,” Mrs Wolfe said, giving a curt nod at Fatin, who just smiled back with her best teacher pleasing grin.
When Mrs Wolfe was fully immersed in her teaching again and had her back to the class, Leah turned around and looked at her. And Jesus-
Her eyes were blue. A fierce and clear blue, like the ocean in the middle of summer. Fatin was frozen, staring into them, transfixed by the beauty.
Leah gave her a small smile, and turned around again, fully giving her attention to Mrs Wolfe, books forgotten next to her.
Fatin didn’t listen to the remainder of the lesson, all she could think about was blue.
She had boarded as the first and was chewing on her cheek to stop herself from crying in this fucking plane, that would be filled with teenagers in mere minutes. Feminist retreat, who the fuck would go here willingly? Her dad’s words and her mom’s silence still echoed in her head.
Soft footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked around, staring right into those fucking beautiful blue eyes again.
She wanted to say something, anything, but Leah didn’t even acknowledge her and sat down in the back, grabbing the notebook and writing again, another book open in her lap. Jesus, talk about anti-social. Maybe that was mean, the girl had never spoken to her, Fatin just had a weird fixation on her.
Then, the other people started boarding the plane. The only person (aside from Leah) who she really noticed was Dorothy, cargo shorts girl. She seemed chill and down to earth, not one for the petty girl drama. With someone like her here, maybe this resort wouldn’t suck as much.
But then their plane fucking nose-dived into the ocean, and they said goodbye to their old lives, getting a fight for survival in return.
The first days, Leah was immersed in the words and the letters in her notebook, tracing the pages of the past in Jeff fucking Galanis’ book and writing something about it afterwards.
Nora also had a notebook, and she had been assigned to keep track of the dates. No one had dared to ask Leah to do it, who clung to hers like it was the holy grail.
Still she was curious, Leah had told her about her relationship with the writer, but it seemed obsessive and unhealthy.
On day six, she fought with Leah. It was ugly and visceral and it made her feel sick. The harsh press of Leah’s hand on her arm. The push that sent her to fall backwards, hurting her leg. The wild look in Leah’s eyes when Fatin smeared the blood on her face. Leah walking into the water, stripping in the process, like this was some indie coming-of-age movie.
Fatin said she didn’t do petty girl drama, and yet here she was.
When she left camp that night with two stolen drinks, she first only saw red. The anger at Leah’s behaviour. Hadn’t she only ever been nice to the girl?
The longer she walked, the more realisations she came to. Maybe it wasn’t nice to joke with Martha about the book. Maybe she shouldn’t have made the comment about Jeff having a fetish for teenage pussy. Maybe she should have participated more. Maybe she didn’t know shit about love, and shouldn’t judge Leah for her ideas on it. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with issues.
And the biggest of all; she was stranded on an island with an ill-assorted group of people who she had nothing in common with, and rescue hadn’t come yet.
That was something she hadn’t truly accepted before, but walking through the woods at night, all alone, made it real. No sounds, except the leaves, scrunched beneath her feet. Nothing to block out the memories of her father’s horrid words, her mother’s silent cries. She really was alone, because of her own actions. Her selfishness had led her here.
Then she found the waterfall.
Shelby probably would have called it a gift from God, Fatin just called it luck, but she vowed to show this to the girls tomorrow, to share with them. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
She laid down on the cold grass, staring up at the sky.
She missed the others.
She had known them for six days and it had barely been an hour since she had last seen them, and she missed them.
Martha and her positivity, Toni and her sassy comments, Dot and her down-to-earth personality, Rachel and her go big or go home attitude, Nora and her fun facts, even Shelby and her Jesus saves bullshit.
And Leah, the raspiness of her voice, the way she got excited when they talked about literature, her shy smile, her loner hipster attitude, her eyes that were so fucking blue that the ocean around them didn't compare.
God, she missed Leah. Their last conversation weighed heavy on her chest. The things she had said repeating in her head, remembering the hurt in those eyes.
She fell asleep with the thought of blue.
The others found her before she could get to them.
The way Leah said her name when she first saw her, the way her blue eyes looked even fiercer now, the pure relief that was on her face, it all made Fatin feel warm.
She thought she couldn’t possibly feel warmer than that, but when Dot yelled that she’s never been prouder, the feeling of belonging rushed through her, and the full smile Leah gave her made her skin burn.
When they got back from the splashing around in the cool water, Fatin apologized, and so did Leah.
The tension still hung thick in the air afterwards, like they were still waiting for something. Fatin caved in and prefaced what she was about to do with, “I’m gonna try something, and I can’t promise that it’s gonna go okay,” and hugged Leah softly.
The tension evaporated. The hug was warm, her body grateful for the contact. Maybe she was touch-starved, but the touch sent tingles down her spine. Leah’s head resting on her shoulder felt natural, just like Leah’s shoulder was just the perfect place for Fatin’s head. They fit, like puzzle pieces. When Fatin let go, arms lingering too long for friendly contact, she made a joke to hide the way she felt, and Leah’s smile made her feel sparks.
After that whole “pathetic display of affection”, Leah burned Jeff fucking Galanis’ book but kept the notebook. It was less well-guarded, but Fatin still hadn’t caught a glimpse of what was inside.
Her curiosity grew stronger as time went on, and she and Leah grew closer than she had ever imagined.
Fatin saw her writing in the notebook often. No longer burdened by Jeff, she seemed freer. Not constantly keeping the notebook pressed to her chest, now leaving it anywhere, sometimes even showing someone a small part of a page, never more.
But then the suspicions about the island came, and it all went down-hill again. The notebook held tightly in her sleep.
But, this time, Leah had her, and Fatin was more than willing to be her anchor when the sea in her mind became too strong to battle alone.
The waves in her mind did become too strong, and so did the actual waves. Fatin is sure there’s something poetic in that.
Two days ago she held her on the beach, Leah drenched in water, out of breath and eyes wild. Fatin just kept her arms around her, knowing the drugs would kick in any moment. There were tears in her eyes, she was well aware of that. She hadn’t cried since they crash-landed in this hell-hole, but this had been too much. Her chest was tight with worry and pain, her throat was sore from how much she had yelled Leah’s name. She just let the girl sob in her arms, while she cried too.
The memories were still fresh, coming up every time she saw her.
Her eyes were being pulled towards her again, just like many months ago in that English class, and she started walking towards her.
Leah is sitting on the grassy hill, and she’s writing again, biting her lip, hair falling in front of her face. Her fingers are tense around the pen and her eyes never leave the paper. it was strange to see, yet Fatin can’t look away.
Fatin is close now and makes sure her steps are a bit louder, but she gets no reaction. Leah is still completely in her own world, writing something Fatin can’t read from where she’s standing.
"Hey."
Leah jumps up and looks at Fatin wide-eyed, those blue eyes removing every thought from Fatin's mind yet again.
"You scared me," Her voice cracks when she says it and it makes Fatin smile.
She closes the notebook and lays it to the side before Fatin can even get a glimpse of what she was writing.
"So, what was it?" Leah asks with a playful smile.
Oh shit. Fatin just walked here in need of Leah, like it was muscle memory. She needs to be close, to hear her voice, to see her eyes. To know if she is okay, to know that she was actually here, not just a figment of her imagination.
“Yeah, um-” She scratches the back of her head awkwardly, “How are you feeling?”
Stupid question.
Leah looks down, tracing her fingers over the black cover of the notebook lying in the grass, “Oh, I’m fine.”
Fatin knows she’s lying.
She sits down next to her and stares at her face, trying to read her expression.
“You sure?”
Leah turns her head and she sees blue again. Goddammit this girl and her eyes, this isn’t fair.
“Well, I think no one here is fine,” Leah lets out a dry chuckle, “But I’m doing okay, considering everything. Won’t fling myself into the ocean again, at least not today.”
Fatin just stares at her in shock. That was fucking dark.
“It’s a joke, you can laugh,” Leah says with a shy smile.
“Jesus, you need to work on your humour skills,” Fatin mutters, looking away.
“What? Don’t like dark humour?”
“Not when it’s based on reality,” Fatin says. The memories of Leah almost drowning are too fresh for this.
Leah frowns, “Fatin, are you okay?”
She says it so softly that Fatin almost answers honestly. Almost.
“Yeah, no worries, I’m fine.”
“I know you’re lying,” Leah echoes her words from before and Fatin’s walls crumble at the softness with which she says it.
“Yeah,” She pauses, trying to find the words to describe it, “Like you said, no one is fine.”
“Fatin,” Her voice breaks, “Just because you’ve helped me doesn't mean I can’t help you.”
She’s right, Fatin knows it. But still, she can't say it. She can’t tell her that she cares too much. She can’t say that everything Leah does controls her life. She can't say that she would do anything for her. She can't tell her that she felt like she was dying when Leah was being pulled under by the waves.
“Leah, you don't have to worry,” She tries again, hoping Leah will just drop it.
“But I do.”
“Fuck,” It comes out broken and she clenches her fists, staring into the distance, seeing the crashing of the waves doesn’t help, “Leah, really you don't-”
Leah interrupts her by laying one hand on her shoulder and turning Fatin’s head with a soft hand on her jaw.
“Fatin, please, just tell me.”
They are so close and Fatin's mouth goes dry. She’s staring deeply into Leah’s blue eyes filled with emotion. She feels like she has fallen into the sea and is being pushed around by the waves.
“Fatin,” Her voice cracks again, her thumb rubbing over her cheek and it feels so fucking warm and soft.
She fights every urge she has to kiss her and instead tries to find the words to explain her feelings.
“Leah, I just,” She swallows, the lack of distance between them really doesn't help her nervousness, “I’m still scared.”
“Why?” She’s still rubbing her thumb over her cheek and it’s making it even harder to focus.
“Because I can't lose you.”
It’s the closest she can come to the truth right now. Her voice breaks when she says it and there are tears building in her eyes she’s desperately trying to keep at bay.
Leah’s eyes go wide in surprise.
“Oh.”
It seems like she hadn't even considered it an option. Like she doesn’t understand that Fatin’s world revolves around her. Nothing Fatin has ever felt matches the way she feels about Leah and it scares her shitless.
Leah lets go of her shoulder and face and it makes Fatin panic for a moment, but then Leah opens her arms and she realizes what she means.
Fatin climbs into her lap and Leah wraps her arms around her. The contact sets her skin on fire, but it also makes her feel at home.
“I’m sorry,” It's barely a whisper, but she knows Leah means it.
“Not your fault,” She says, but it comes out croaky and weird because she’s almost crying.
“It kinda is,” Leah says while threading her fingers through Fatin’s hair, the touch is enough to finally let the tears spill. She has never experienced this with another person. The amount of comfort, the love, the touch that makes her feel safe. She turns her head and buries her face in Leah’s sweater. Leah just keeps threading her fingers through her hair, lovingly rubbing her other hand over Fatin’s back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Leah whispers, which really only makes Fatin cry harder.
They stay like that for a while, just Leah being Fatin’s anchor for once and holding her with so much love.
After a long time, she feels a slight push on her shoulder and opens her eyes. She must have dozed off. She is still lying in the comfort of Leah’s lap. Blue eyes look right into hers.
“Not to, like, be mean or anything, but I kind of have to pee.”
Fatin lets out a soft chuckle and ungracefully rolls out of her lap, giving her the room to get up.
“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Leah says, giving her a soft smile.
Fatin returns the smile, “Sure, take your time, I won’t fling myself into the ocean.”
Leah lets out a loud laugh at that, and it makes Fatin’s heart skip a beat.
“Told you, dark humour is funny.”
“Yeah, only to weirdos.”
“Says the one who just made a dark joke,” Leah yells over her shoulder, walking towards the woods.
She knows Leah will be gone a while, and her eyes fall on the notebook.
Really, she shouldn’t.
But her barely awake brain and its curiosity win.
And Leah never said she wasn’t allowed to read it, it’s probably filled with poetry and Jeff, not stuff Fatin doesn’t know.
She skips through almost the first half of the notebook, seeing that it is in fact filled with Jeff.
Fatin doesn’t read any of that, really not needing any more info on Leah’s relationship with the pedophilic asshole,, she already knows enough.
But then, she sees her own name for the first time on a small note.
It has no date above it but Fatin has no trouble figuring it out, it's about that day she talked back to Mrs Wolfe: ‘Fatin Jadmani defended me in class today, didn't think she even paid attention to Mrs Wolfe. I kind of regret not saying thank you, but it would have been way too awkward to walk up to her’
It makes her smile, the warm memories of that day flowing through her. The thought of Leah being too shy to say thank you almost makes her laugh out loud.
She keeps flipping through the pages, skimming over the small notes and doodles hoping to find something. What exactly, she doesn’t know, a sign maybe. More pages filled with notes about Jeff fucking Galanis. Then the island notes start, even more Jeff, and then suddenly no more Jeff.
That’s when she starts seeing her own name more.
‘Fatin seems nice’
‘Fatin isn’t participating, like, at all’
‘Fatin’s such a fucking bitch’
‘I apologized to Fatin, maybe she isn’t as bad'
‘I talked to Fatin today, she’s the only one here that I trust’
‘I think Fatin understands me’
She doesn’t read the next pages, which are probably filled with more paranoia and the days leading up to her breakdown. It’s all starting to feel too personal, too creepy for her to be reading this. She flips through the rest of the book and then her eye falls on another kind of ink.
Poetry.
Cut out poems and self-written lines with a fancy pen.
The last one has recently been written, the ink is still a bit wet. Leah probably wrote it while she was asleep.
soft hugs and brown eyes
she sees through my lies
barricaded door,
she’s doesn’t open up
her sea is spilling,
my senses filling
so full of stories,
almost never cries
but then when she does,
she really breaks down
but without her here,
I would surely drown
Fatin’s breath catches in her throat. She knows this is about her, there is no other possibility. The feeling of unease comes over her, it feels like she wasn't supposed to ever see this.
But she also realizes the love is mutual. Whether the love Leah feels is romantic or not isn't clear, but the fact that she cares is enough for Fatin.
She looks around, Leah isn’t here yet.
Well, since she already saw it, and lying would probably feel even worse, she might as well tell her she skimmed through it.
But then, her eye falls on the fancy pen next to the blue ballpoint pen, lying there in the grass.
The page next to the poem is empty, and Fatin knows exactly what she should write there:
Her eyes are oceans I would drown in,
zero hesitation
just falling into the deep blue waves,
being swallowed whole,
her smell and voice pulling me under,
only her around me
I would stay,
until I couldn't breathe anymore,
I know that,
she would surely save me from the tides,
but I wouldn’t mind if she didn't
because I would feel safe either way.
An improvised personal poem. Writing it actually felt slightly therapeutic, when ignoring the pure dread and anxiety she felt at the thought of Leah reading this.
Fatin knows it’s terrible poetry, and Dickinson would probably turn around in her grave at the lack of rhyme, but it’s only fitting. A personal poem in return for the invasion of privacy.
She blows on the ink, and then closes the notebook, laying it down carefully where it was before, pens next to it.
Nerves at what she just did flutter in her chest, her hands tracing her own thigh restlessly with patterns of cello pieces she still knows by memory. God, a month ago she would have just read every word of the notebook, probably would have done a dramatic reading of it in front of Martha (or any of the others, for that matter). But now, she already feels guilty for barely skimming through it, not reading anything too personal, well except the poem then, but that was an accident, a stupid one at that.
She hears footsteps and looks around, blue eyes meeting her gaze.
“Hi,” She says, sitting down next to her.
“You’re back,” Fatin’s voice still sounds croaky and weird from crying hours ago (how many, she has no idea).
Leah hums and opens her arms, and Fatin doesn't hesitate to climb in her lap again, the comfort reassuring for guilt and dread she feels.
This time Fatin stays awake, and Leah doesn't touch the notebook once.
They don't really talk, just sit in the comfort of each other, listening to the other’s breathing.
That night, when they have eaten something that you can barely call a meal, Fatin goes to sleep early.
She can’t bear to be there when Leah notices, and the more she thinks about it, the more guilt and dread fill her.
She might have just actually fucked up everything between them because she couldn't just let Leah have her privacy.
Jesus.
When she wakes up, it’s incredibly early and everyone is still asleep. Her shoulders are tense and rigid, either a consequence of sleeping on the ground or a consequence of the pure anxiety that fills her. Maybe even a fun mix of both. She gets up, stretches (which hurts like a bitch) and walks up to the task board. Yesterday, she had put her stone down by water duty.
She sees that Leah has put her stone under hers, probably before she went to bed.
Some tension leaves Fatin’s body, maybe Leah doesn't hate her.
Or maybe she just hasn't read it yet.
She looks over to where Leah is sleeping, her notebook about two feet away.
No, she definitely has read it, no way she didn't notice.
But she looks peaceful, chest rising and falling calmly, with hair all around her and drool on her cheek.
God, she’s adorable.
Okay, maybe that’s creepy. First, reading her notebook and now, staring at her in her sleep? Jesus Jadmani, get a grip, you're not some weird fuckboy.
She sits down by the fire and waits for the others to wake up, really hoping that someone will wake up soon because sitting here alone, trying not to stare at Leah is torture.
When they finally leave to go to the waterfall, which took way too long because Dot wanted to discuss some other things first, Leah is really quiet.
Okay, not a good sign.
Fatin makes attempts at small talk, Leah responds but doesn't really engage in the conversation.
A bad sign.
Fatin makes a dark joke and Leah doesn't even laugh.
An even worse sign.
Shit, she has fucked up completely.
Fatin does what she does best, and desperately tries to keep the thick tension from hanging between them. But when they reach the waterfall, she gives up on avoiding it and just takes the problem on head first.
“I’m sorry.”
Leah turns to look at her, eyebrows raised.
“I shouldn't have,” She pauses and swallows, the embarrassment at her own actions fills her mind, “I shouldn't have read it, I’m sorry.”
Leah still just stares at her, and Fatin looks down at the ground instead, not being able to deal with eye contact right now.
“How much did you read?”
The tone of her voice is soft and it hurts even more.
“Fuck, I just, I skimmed through it okay? Not actually like, read everything, just looking for,” The last words die in the throat, she can’t say it.
“Looking for what?”
Leah sounds so concerned and fuck, she’s supposed to be angry right now. She’s supposed to be yelling and screaming. It would be so much better than this. It would be easier, the understanding just makes her feel more guilty.
“Stuff about me,” God it sounds conceited and embarrassing and she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.
“Why?”
She can’t say it, she can’t even look at the blue eyes that are probably full of concern.
“Curiosity.”
Technically it isn't a lie, she just can’t tell the whole truth right now.
She hears footsteps and then feels two soft hands on her face, forcing her to make eye contact. She looks into the blue again. Leah rubs her thumb over her jaw, just like she did on the hill.
“Fatin,” Her voice cracks, “I’m not mad.”
“Why aren't you?” She’s genuinely confused, and the warmth of Leah’s palms on her face isn’t helping.
“Because you did give me something in return, you didn't hide reading it, and you apologized before I even said something,” Leah says, giving her a small smile.
“I still fucked up, I never should have touched it,” She tries to push Leah’s hands away, the love and eye contact overwhelming her, but Leah doesn’t budge, just keeps staring into her eyes. Tears fill Fatin’s eyes and she desperately tries to blink them away.
“It’s okay, Fatin,” The way Leah says it is filled with love and trust. Fatin feels her letting go of her face and then she’s being pulled into a hug.
“No Leah, it's not, it’s not fucking okay, I broke your trust. I did it again, just as I did with Jeff's fucking book,” Fatin says while crying, the sound slightly muffled by Leah’s shirt and her voice croaky, “I’m not a fucking trustworthy person, I hurt people.”
Leah just hugs her tighter, “You didn't hurt me. And I trust you.”
“You shouldn't,” Fatin mutters, her arms still rigid at her sides.
Leah pulls back from the hug a bit, her hands on Fatin's face again, “Fatin, I make my own choices, and I’m choosing to trust you. That's my decision and mine alone.”
The way Leah says it makes her feel safe, but one question still floats around in her head.
“But why?”
Leah looks at her incredulously, “Because you saved my life.”
Leah says it so matter-of-factly, so trusting and lovingly that Fatin believes her.
At least for now.
“Oh.”
A smile comes onto Leah’s face, and she pulls her in for another hug. This time Fatin hugs her back tightly, afraid that this will just be a dream. Afraid that she'll slip through her fingers.
“I did like the poem,” Leah whispers.
Fatin chuckles, “It isn't my best work, it was pure improvisation.”
“Pretty good improvisation for someone who never paid attention in English.”
“Oh shut up. Yours was way better.”
“Because it was about you?” Leah says teasingly.
“No, because it was written by someone who is actually capable.”
“Yours was more personal, more romantic.”
That makes her heart flutter, but she jokes around it, not ready to have another mental breakdown, “My poetry gets me all the girls.”
Leah chuckles, “Oh, does it now?”
“I mean, you liked it.”
Leah laughs, Fatin can feel the vibrations of it in her own chest, “Very true, are you flirting with me Jadmani?”
“Maybe,” Fatin mumbles into her shirt, not liking where this is going.
“Oh, so that’s why you wanted to read what I had written about you?”
Fuck.
She knows what Leah said was a joke, but her whole body tenses and she stays quiet.
“Really?” The disbelief in Leah’s voice doesn't really help with her anxiety. Goddammit, she just fixed this and now she’s breaking it again.
She doesn't say anything, just stays still and quiet, hoping that this will all magically go away.
“Do you have a crush on me?”
Fatin lets go of Leah, the touch suddenly weird and uncomfortable to her. She still doesn't speak, just averts her eyes, not trusting her voice.
“Oh.”
“Leah, fuck, I-” She looks around, anywhere except for at Leah, “Yeah, I have feelings for you. You mean so fucking much to me and I know you don’t feel the same, and if you need space I get it,” Fatin rambles, the tension in her shoulders back, her arms rigid at her sides again.
Fatin can’t meet her blue eyes, the embarrassment has come back full swing.
“Fatin-” Leah tries to interrupt but she doesn’t let her.
“I’ve completely fucked this up again, I’m so sorry. Fuck,” She’s staring at the ground, looking for more words that could possibly describe the pure guilt and embarrassment that are eating her alive right now.
“Fatin, I have feelings for you too.”
Her mind stops running wild and she looks up, staring wide-eyed at Leah, who has a shy smile on her face and is staring right back at her.
“What?” Fatin says, still not having processed what the fuck is happening.
Leah chuckles and quickly steps closer to her before Fatin can even say anything else and puts her hands on her face again, foreheads pressing against each other.
The closeness makes Fatin feel slightly delirious, the touch of Leah’s hands making her feel like her body is on fire.
Leah is gnawing on her bottom lip and before Fatin even really thinks about it, she already brings her hand to Leah’s face, softly removing the lip from between her teeth with her thumb. She doesn't pull her hand away afterwards, just rests it on her jaw. Leah stares at her in wonder, her pupils slightly dilated, and the tension only builds up. Fatin’s mouth is dry and her heart is beating out of her chest.
“Can I kiss you?” Leah whispers hoarsely, inching forward slightly, but still giving Fatin room to say no.
Fatin doesn't answer, just pulls her in by her neck.
It’s a messy kiss, filled with hunger and love. She feels electric, like a bomb has gone off inside her and her emotions are all spilling at the same time. Leah’s lips are soft and her hands move to tangle in her hair. Fatin moves her hands on Leah’s neck down and grabs her hips instead, pushing them even closer together. She feels light-headed, like she’s on fucking cloud nine.
Eventually, Fatin breaks the kiss, both of them breathing heavily, their faces still close together.
“Fuck.”
Leah chuckles and pulls her closer, laying her head on her shoulder, her breath warm on her neck.
Fatin wraps her arms around her, her hand softly stroking over her back.
“You need to stop with the mental breakdowns, that’s my job,” Fatin can feel her smiling when she says it.
“Oh shut up,” Fatin says, leaving a kiss on Leah’s neck.
“Make me.”
Fatin pulls back and stares into her eyes, eyebrows raised, “What did you just say?”
“Make me.”
The mischievous smile on Leah’s face sends tingles down her spine and she immediately leans forward, grabbing Leah’s face and kissing her hard. God, the feeling this gives her is addictive. Leah just smiles into the kiss, hands tangling in her hair again. Fatin breaks away, trailing kisses down from the corner of her mouth to her neck, Leah’s fingers still tangled in her hair.
“Jesus, Rilke, never thought you were so bold,” Fatin says against her neck.
“That proves you definitely didn't read everything in my notebook.”
Her eyes go wide, staring up at Leah in shock, who just feigns an innocent smile.
“Jesus. You're going to be the death of me, Rilke.”