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Sometimes, you meet someone, and it’s like your eyes already know what your brain hasn’t realized yet.
When Fatin walks into the school, the hall is crowded with artsy posers and hipsters, the air filled with teen angst and naive hopefulness, and she is just trying to get to class without having to talk to anyone. Head up, shoulders back, equally elegant as intimidating.
( Look powerful, feel powerful is the mantra of the Jadmani’s. Fatin has heard it once too many times for it to still feel like empowerment, instead, the sentence is slowly turning into a compulsive thought, her mother’s voice ringing through her head unwarranted)
She pushes through, hoping that her air of confidence will be enough for people to stay out of her way because she isn’t in the mood for small talk today.
She has a big test in fourth period, because of her precious cello she’s had no time to study, and her mom still expects her to ace it.
It works, until she rounds a corner and collides into someone else, basically full-on body checking them.
“What the-”
Her words are cut short by the girl immediately scrambling to pick up her stuff, without even looking up at Fatin.
There no are books or papers in her hands (there never are, that's what backpacks and lockers are for) and her phone was saved by the cord of her earbuds (maybe not being able to find her AirPods that morning had been a good thing), so she’s fine.
But the girl isn’t fine, having dropped her book, her papers and her nerdy glasses onto the (quite dirty) floor, and everyone else is rushing to class around them, not even showing signs of stopping.
So, Fatin ignores the irritation still bubbling under the surface, crouching down to help the poor girl (anything to get out of US history) .
She picks up the round golden rimmed glasses with a crack in them (presumably just caused by the collision), which, upon further inspection, have no prescription in them.
“There is no-”
She’s cut off before she gets a chance to finish her sentence by the girl snatching the glasses out of her hands, and it causes Fatin to finally look at the girl’s face.
In that moment, she remembers that she always used to think that those moments in movies where they look into each other’s eyes and time slows down were the most absurd thing she had ever seen, so cliche and fake.
But still, she can’t help but stare into this girl’s eyes like she’s being hypnotized while the world slows down, and maybe this is even more cliche, but her eyes are the fiercest blue Fatin has ever seen and she wouldn’t mind if that was the only colour she would see for the rest of her life.
“Don’t say it.”
The voice snaps her out of her romcom-esque moment and throws her right back into reality, which is that she’s been staring at this girl for far too long. She can’t help but think about how it’s the first time she speaks, and her voice is rough and nice in a way that makes Fatin wish she recorded audiobooks. However, she has no idea what the girl means, raising an eyebrow to non-verbally ask for an explanation, but the girl just shakes her head and continues grabbing all her stuff.
Now she’s just sitting there (maybe slightly embarrassed and she doesn’t remember that ever happening before), crouched down and barely a feet away from this girl, so to at least feel like she’s helping, Fatin grabs her book, but it is immediately snatched from her hands again.
“Jesus, I’m just trying to help,” she mutters, her eyes focused on how the girl systematically sorts through papers and puts them all in order while she reminds herself not to stare at her face because that’s just fucking awkward.
“Why?”
“Why not? I bumped into you and you dropped all your stuff.”
The girl sighs, “Yeah but-” she grabs the book (it says “ The Nature Of Her ” and Fatin thinks it sounds way too pretentious for her taste) and puts it on top of the papers, getting up again while holding all of her stuff in her arms- “you’re Fatin Jadmani.”
Fatin winces. Sure, her reputation could be handy sometimes, but in moments like these, she wishes that she had more meaningful connections to people to prove she isn’t just some “popular” girl.
She gets up as well because otherwise it’s just uncomfortable (why is she so aware of making a good impression on this random girl she bumped into?), and she notices that the girl is a bit taller than her.
“Damn, I’m not that bad, am I?”
Leah puts her now-broken glasses on, “Your reputation precedes you,” she says, a small smile on her face, “You probably don’t even know my name.”
“I don’t,” Fatin says honestly, a sly smile on her face, “I’ll just have to remember you as the girl with beautiful blue eyes and fake hipster glasses.”
Fatin swears she sees her blush at that, but the girl regains her composure quickly and rolls her eyes, “Oh God, please just remember me as Leah.”
Leah.
A nice name, and Fatin has no idea why she tries to engrain the name in her memory, because she never remembers anyone’s name (not even the ones of her regular hook-ups).
“I can’t make any promises.”
Leah sighs but she doesn’t actually seem annoyed, “Seriously?”
“I mean, you can also just remember me as the girl who made you late to class,” she says, gesturing to the clock hanging in the hall, which tells them that they are definitely late for first period.
Leah turns to look and panic flashes over her face, “Right, shit. I have to go.”
Fatin just laughs, “Sure, see you around, blue eyes.”
Leah’s jaw drops at that, but then she seems to remember herself, “See you around, brown eyes,” she says with a smirk, and turns around quickly, walking to her class.
“So unoriginal!” Fatin yells after her, with a bigger smile on her face than she’s had in months.
Cold last words from her father, her mother and brothers nowhere to be seen. Dried tears and smeared make-up, an uncomfortable chair, the cringiest introduction video she’s ever seen, and a kinda funny girl sitting next to her. But most importantly, blue eyes sitting in the back row, nose buried in the same book as many months ago.
That’s what this day has been like so far.
But then there’s turbulence, panic coursing through her veins. Unlived dreams and unspoken words flashing before her eyes, disappointment and pain as fresh memories spinning through her mind.
Tears roll over her cheeks involuntarily, her hands gripping the chair with all her strength.
Because she’s going to die. She’s only 17 and she’s going to die.
For some inexplicable reason, she still has to turn around in her chair, just to stare at the girl who doesn’t even seem bothered by all the fear surrounding her, just focused on her book like it’s a lifeline.
Fatin watches her read through her tears and is fully resigned to that being the last thing she sees.
It isn’t.
Maybe sometimes the things you see are better than reality, because she would much rather watch Leah read the rest of her life instead of waking up with sand in her mouth.
Sometimes things are uglier up close, when you see the reality and not just some fantasy.
While angrily smearing her own blood on Leah’s face, she really wishes she could say that Leah is one of those cases where the fairy tale is better than the truth, but she can’t, because no matter how much hatred is running through her body, she still gets lost in her blue eyes. She still can’t tear her eyes away when the girl strips off all of her clothes and dramatically walks into the ocean, full indie coming of age movie style.
And it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
Finding a water source, Dorothy saying she’s proud of her, and being told that Leah forced everyone to look for her is almost too much good news for one day, but still there is a nervous energy hanging around her, most importantly between her and Leah .
So, when she sits next to Leah she stares at her, taking in the way she’s fiddling with her hands, and how cute she looks when she’s nervous, before realizing how weird she’s being and looks away again.
(That’s when Leah looks at her like she’s the most perfect thing she’s ever seen, but Fatin only sees the sand)
She’s the one to apologize first.
She’s the one to initiate the hug that tingles on her skin.
It’s ironic that just yesterday she was screaming that Leah should never touch her again because she’s pretty sure she can’t live without the tingling warmth it brings.
That conclusion was just drawn when she couldn’t stop herself from helping Leah up just to touch her again.
Rescue is coming, THC bears were found, the story seems pretty logical from there.
They held chicken fights and talked about stupid shit, Shelby is drunk out of her mind but that seems like a problem for later.
Right now, she’s laying next to Leah on the sand, the rest messing around somewhere else on the beach, and she’s really trying not to, like almost desperately, but she can’t help but look at Leah.
Not in some weird pervy way, but she just wants to see her, her face a soothing sight for her stoned-out-of-her-mind self.
They talk about weird things, and everything is funny to both of them, doubling over with laughter over nothing.
Eventually, when the gummies start losing their effect just slightly, Leah gets up and holds her hands out to help her get up.
But Fatin doesn’t respond, because her brain is way too busy with the image of Leah towering over her while only wearing a bra and some shorts, and it takes about ten seconds too long before she realizes that it’s kinda creepy to check her out like this.
So, she lets a grinning Leah pull her up and they don’t talk about it.
“The over-tweezed brow is a tough look.”
Leah didn’t laugh, and that’s how Fatin knew.
“You’re going dark on me again.”
She really thought she could help, that she could fix it. That listening to Leah’s story about the goldfish would be enough. That she would be enough.
Many possibilities had crossed her mind when it came to what would happen. Leah breaking down, Leah accusing someone, Leah doing something stupid.
(Leah kissing her)
But none of them were correct, and when Leah runs into the ocean ready to die for her theory, Fatin can’t stop it.
She’s at the sea’s mercy just as much as Leah. All she can do is yell her name till her voice is hoarse, and hope that it’ll be enough. That she will be enough.
Rachel saves her, and despite Dorothy’s best intentions to help, Fatin is the one to give her the pill to calm her down. Afterwards, she cradles Leah in her arms like a fragile baby, crying with her, hoping that her touch is enough. Hoping that she is enough.
Fatin thinks she could be while looking at her sleeping peacefully the next night, eventually snapping out of it when Toni tells her to stop watching Leah sleep.
“You remember that?”
It’s been eight days since Leah’s trip into the ocean, and she’s doing much better, but she’s still subjected to constant company to make sure there are no do-overs of that day (but as long as it’s Fatin, she doesn’t seem to mind).
They are sitting next to each other on the sandy beach, the camp just far enough away for them to be out of earshot from the others.
“Yeah, of course I remember that. Why wouldn’t I remember the girl who thought my most defining feature was my eyes of all possible things.”
“Seriously? I complimented you!”
Leah gives her a small push while she says it, faux offended, but the touch lingers, her hand staying on her shoulder, and while the wind blows on her skin and the sand is cold and wet, Fatin still feels warmer than the sun.
“You could have said so many things, my ass or my boobs or something else, not my eyes ,” she says, trying desperately to keep up her confident exterior while the hand on her shoulder is taking it apart brick by brick, “But why do you remember it?”
“Why wouldn’t I remember the day the popular girl compliments my eyes like a total frat boy, even though I warned her not to?”
“Wait, hold up. You warned me? How did you even know what I was going to say?”
Leah gives her an incredulous look and drops her hand from Fatin’s shoulder to lay on the sand instead (and Fatin is both glad and disappointed).
“Fatin, you were staring into my eyes for like a full thirty seconds.”
She’s fucking glad her blush doesn’t show like it does on Leah, because this is incredibly embarrassing.
Still, she tries to find a way out, “Excuse me. That’s an over-exaggeration, twenty max.”
“That’s still long!”
The way that Leah frowns, trying to look intimidating, is incredibly adorable, and Fatin’s mental word filter malfunctions for a moment, “You just have very pretty eyes, it takes time to admire them.”
Luckily, Leah doesn’t realize that she meant it (or pretends she doesn’t know) and sighs, rolling her eyes, “This is what I meant by total frat boy. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that compliment?”
For a moment, she jealously wonders if Jeff ever told Leah that her eyes are pretty, but she shakes away the thought, not wanting to spend any mental energy thinking about him.
“A lot, obviously. Doesn’t mean that they aren’t pretty.”
“Well, just because you don’t think your brown eyes are anything special, doesn’t take away from the fact that I think they are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Leah says with a cocky grin.
Fatin swallows roughly, losing herself while staring at Leah. She wishes she could kiss her, despite knowing that they are sitting on the beach where everyone can see them and Leah probably wouldn’t kiss back anyway, but the urge is still there. To finally experience what she’s been yearning for since the start.
She doesn’t do it, letting a comfortable silence fall between them, and she notices Leah is just as lost in her eyes as she is in hers.
Two days later, they both are on water duty and travel to the waterfall together through the woods. The walk there makes her muscles ache, and sweat drips down her body, but luckily Leah’s company makes her feet feel just a bit lighter, and their conversations never let her get bored.
When they finally reach it, Leah takes off her shirt.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
But Fatin is left looking at her, unable to tear her eyes away. It is fucking unfair how beautiful Leah is, and the cocky grin that comes onto Leah’s face when she sees her staring doesn’t help with the somersaults her stomach is doing.
She can only stop looking when Leah walks up to her, laying a hand on her cheek, “I feel like I should put you out of your misery.”
“Wha-”
Her skin is on fire, and she’s so fucking confused, but then Leah leans in to whisper in her ear, “I see the way you look at me.”
Her jaw drops, and her brain processes the meaning behind those words. Processing that Leah knows she has feelings, and that their lips are mere inches apart now that Leah leans her forehead against hers.
All she can do is drown in the blue.
“Holy fuck,” she mutters under her breath and Leah chuckles, “Where do you get your confidence from?”
“One of us has to make the first move, and it obviously won’t be you.”
“Excuse you?”
“Am I wrong?” Leah challenges her with a raised brow and then stares at Fatin’s lips without showing any signs of moving closer.
Out of retaliation (and because she really can’t stand the torture of being so close without having Leah’s lips on hers any longer), Fatin pulls her closer and kisses her roughly, and if she thought her body was on fire before, she was wrong, because she’s positive she’s actually burning to ashes now. Leah immediately responds, kissing back with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in Fatin’s hair.
Eventually, she pulls back to breathe and immediately hugs Leah instead, not ready to be without her touch already, her fingers trailing over the bare skin.
“I made the first move,” she whispers in Leah’s ear, and she can hear and feel her chuckle.
“Technically you only finished it,” she whispers back, softly threading her fingers through Fatin’s hair.
Fatin leans back to look at her. There’s a big grin on Leah’s face, her cheeks are rose-tinted and her pupils are slightly dilated.
The urge to prove to Leah she’s the one who made the first move leaves her, but she can’t let her confidence crumble fully yet, “Fine, but I kissed you first.”
“That’s what I wanted you to do,” Leah says with a smirk, “Well, are you going to make any more of your famous first moves?”
Her brain short circuits (it does that a lot around Leah), and she can’t get any words out, so she settles for just softly kissing her.
“Not really,” she says against her lips, “I was hoping you would use your fancy words for that.”
“My fancy words?”
“Yeah, I’m not good with the feelings and words combination.”
“I don’t mind seeing you try.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she clears her throat dramatically, hoping that her bravado will compensate for how nervous she feels (the fact that Leah doesn’t have a shirt on definitely doesn’t help), “Leah Rilke, I have feelings for you.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Seriously? I’m pouring my guts out over here.”
“I was expecting a dramatic declaration of love, not one sentence.”
“You’re going to have to lower your expectations, and I wasn’t finished.”
“Oh please, do continue.”
“I hate you.”
“Off to a good start.”
“That wasn’t a part of it.”
Leah just hums, staring at her with a big grin on her face and a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “You can do it, baby .”
Fatin’s jaw drops again .
The fucking power this girl has over her is extremely unfair. She has never been at a loss for words, or unable to speak her mind, but with Leah, she becomes some shy fourteen-year-old boy trying to ask out his crush, only his crush isn’t wearing a shirt and he’s simultaneously trying his best not to look.
“Fuck it,” she mumbles and takes a deep breath, “Leah, I normally don’t do feelings and romance and shit, you know that. But with you, it’s different. I need you more than I ever thought I would, so,” she swallows roughly, “I want to give this a chance, if you want to too.”
While she spoke, the expression on Leah’s face became gradually softer.
Right when she finishes Leah leans in and kisses her, her thumb slowly rubbing over her cheek.
“And you have the audacity to say that you’re not good with words and feelings,” Leah says when they break apart.
“Yeah yeah. Now I want to hear what you have to say, Miss Future Writer.”
She bites her lip and smiles, “Fatin Jadmani, you have been my anchor the entire time on this island, keeping me from drowning in my thoughts. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot here, but we grew closer than I could have ever imagined and I’m so glad we did. So, yes, I want to give this a chance too.”
That leaves Fatin speechless, unable to come up with anything for a moment, just realizing that she is enough . The emotion is overwhelming, the feeling of someone wanting you and then putting it into words perfectly, so she just hugs her, clinging onto her like she is her lifeline.
“God, I need to get better at wording things. You’re way better at this than me,” she mumbles into Leah’s shoulder.
“Fatin, I really don’t mind.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s you.”