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Sterling’s the one to finally break the cycle, of course.
After too many, far too long and open ended conversations with Blair (once she finally does decide to open up to her), Sterling’s bottled up feelings finally reach capacity on a Thursday, during lunch.
She approaches April’s table with purpose, making a beeline for exactly who she wants.
“Can we talk?”
April frowns, a clear look of annoyance for anyone but Sterling, who in an instant sees that her pupils have begun to blow out already.
Next they’re in the supply closet on the other end of school.
Sterling sighs and looks at April who seems to be mentally flipping through her file on Sterling as if prepping for debate.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
April’s expression goes blank now, her eyes meeting Sterling’s.
“It’s just...” Sterling begins, “the senior prom’s coming up and then we’ll graduate and... well, I’d like to see if someone might genuinely want to take me to prom and-and if not, I’ll go with Blair but whoever I go with I want to actually spend the night with and have a nice time and not worry about whether if I spill some punch on myself means you’re going to tease me and then twenty minutes later give me an orgasm...” She sighs, hand tangled in her hair that she’s compulsively combing back with her fingers.
“I’m sorry, I just... I can’t do it anymore.”
April’s expression takes on a stoic form, though Sterling clearly witnesses her eyes begin to well. April takes a deep breath, as if her ignorance of her tears will convince the rest of the world they don’t exist.
Sterling looks to the floor before she takes a breath in, turns, and opens the door to leave.
“Are you coming-“
“No.”
“Okay...”
Sterling isn’t five steps away from the door when she hears a guttural scream and the sounds of crashing. She turns on her heels and rushes back over to the door, poking her head in,
“April, people can hear you-...”
April is panting, a dented paint can rolling next to her foot, paint splashed on the opposite wall. Sterling quickly slips back inside, clicking the door shut behind her back.
“April,”
“What?”
Sterling sighs, her shoulders sagging, “I was going to say this door isn’t that thick... but if you’re going to be that loud and trash the place, I don’t think it’s exactly wise for me to leave you...”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
April rolls her eyes with a huff,
“Why do we have to stop? I can just ignore you on prom night,” April offers, “I’d be happy to.”
It’s such a typical, defensive, I-totally-don’t-like-you-even-though-you-and-I-both-know-I’m-infatuated-with-you move to tack on.
Sterling frowns, lips pursing,
“April, it’s not just prom; I can’t keep just not knowing how you feel about me...”
April begins circling her forefinger with her thumb, a nervous tick Sterling has picked up on that seems to rise when April is feeling too much. Sterling continues in spite of it.
“You scream at me, April. Your face goes completely red; I feel like you hate me and then- and then the way you hold me and talk me down after I’ve- after we’ve...” She sucks in a breath, “it’s just so sweet and caring and I don’t understand and it makes my heart physically ache. I can’t-...
And it’s not just you, it’s me. When you’re screaming and pointing at me, I think ‘I hope she pokes me really hard’, ‘I hope she shoves me’, all so I’ll have an excuse to pin you against the car harder than I need to when we inevitably start kissing, and I... I don’t know what that means. I don’t understand any of this and that makes me confused and uncomfortable and I don’t like feeling that way.”
April has begun rubbing the tips of her thumb and forefinger together. She nods, biting the inside of her cheek, her gaze refusing to meet Sterling’s. The tears that sat on the brim of her eyes earlier now rest down her cheeks and perch under her chin.
“Okay,” April nods again.
Sterling grips the door handle she’s holding behind her back as her chest rises with her next breath in.
She goes to turn around.
“Hey,” April interrupts, so gently it makes Sterling turn back to face her.
And April’s looking at her now, really looking at her, in a way that takes Sterling’s breath away.
April cautiously closes the space between them, resting a hand on Sterling’s hip as her other reaches behind Sterling to click the lock shut. April tilts her chin up and waits, her face an inch apart from Sterling’s who, once her brain has caught up (or perhaps done the opposite), nods a more jolted movement than intended.
And April kisses her, and it’s different than any other kiss they’ve shared this time around.
It speaks; it says ‘I’m sorry’, it says ‘goodbye’, it says ‘don’t go’. It’s loving, and soft, and melancholy.
Sterling releases her hold on the door handle to move her palms to cradle April’s face, which pulls back to look at her.
“I don’t hate you,” April whispers, looking up into Sterlings eyes, “I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that I can’t do anything to change it. I hate that I’ve tried. I hate that you’re going.”
She shuts her eyes tightly, “I hate most parts of my life. I hate my dad...” She releases the tension in her face to meet Sterling’s eyes again, “I don’t hate you. I know what hate is. I don’t hate you.”
It’s Sterling who gently leans forward, asking silent permission to kiss April now. When their lips connect, it stays slow and purposeful, both attempting to soak in as much of the other as possible, as if they might somehow forget this feeling if they don’t take active steps in committing it to memory.
Wrapping her arms around April’s neck, Sterling pressed the same phrase into each kiss,
‘Don’t let me go’
‘Don’t let me go’
‘Don’t let me go’
It’s the bell ringing that forces them to stop, foreheads leaning together with a sigh.
“We should go,” Sterling whispers, the paint on the wall catching her eye.
And April just nods.
And that’s that.
The cycle ends.