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It’s an unusually dark night.
Eleven of Etheria’s twelve moons are in their first phase, some completely invisible while others only carve out a thin eyebrow crescent against the night sky. Hardly any moonlight pours into Glimmer’s room, and through the hazy darkness, she can just barely make out Bow’s outline.
They’ve been cuddling in bed for about half an hour when she starts noticing some... new things. Or rather, not new, but things that she hadn’t picked up on before. Something about the lack of sight really does enhance the other senses, Glimmer realizes, and now she’s more keenly aware of Bow’s presence beside her.
For example… There’s the way he breathes when he's relaxed. They’re deep, full breaths, each inhale and exhale so long and drawn out that Glimmer wonders if he works on building lung capacity during training, and when he's close enough that the breaths sweep across her skin, it feels like a gentle breeze passing through a field of flowers. There’s also the way he smells, as weird as it is for her to think about, but she’s never been up to pick up on it as well as right now. It’s pleasantly woodsy and warm, like a fireplace that’s nursing a gentle flame, or the childhood days they spent playing in the forest together. It's calming.
Bow lets out a sleepy murmur, his voice low and soft and closer than she thought it would be, Glimmer’s chest flutters, again , and it’s just as confusing as it always has been. And it’s been happening a lot more recently. She has a hunch why, maybe, kinda, well, she doesn’t really know, it’s scary to think about, so uh, yeah.
He shifts around to find a more comfortable sleeping position, and he ends up facing away from her, which is fine. She likes being the big spoon, too. There are some roles that are too big, shoes that she feels like she can never completely fill. Being queen of Bright Moon? Nah. Being head of the princess alliance? Uh-oh. Being the big spoon to Bow’s little spoon? Now that is a job she knows she can do perfectly.
She accepts the new position and slings an arm over Bow’s torso. Her chest presses lightly against his back as she scoots closer. One of her legs moves to align with his, overlapping their calves just for the sake of touch. His feet are cold.
A minute or two passes.
Glimmer’s voice is soft and scared when she mutters, “Hey, Bow?”
“Hmm?” he hums back.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Mhmmm.”
“... Have you ever been in love?”
“Huh?” Bow yawns. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
“Erm, I said…” Glimmer swallows before repeating it. “Have you ever been in love?”
There’s a long pause. Finally, he rolls around to face her. Glimmer still can’t see Bow’s face through the dense darkness, but she can feel the look he’s giving. The air turns viscous, something intense and unfamiliar but she isn’t sure why. She thinks he’s holding his breath.
“Why are you asking?” he asks her on the exhale, his voice steady and fully awake.
“Oh, ummm, just wondering! No reason!” Glimmer practically squeaks. “... Wait, hey! No answering my question with more questions.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and just as Glimmer is about to tell him haha nevermind, sorry for the weird question -- he answers. “... Yeah. Yeah, I’ve definitely been in love before.”
“Oh.” Glimmer didn’t actually expect him to say yes. Even more so, she wasn’t expecting him to answer so confidently. She feels a prick in her tightening chest, yellow hyacinths blooming in the empty cavities, but she tries not to show it. “... W-o-w, I can’t believe you fell in love and didn’t tell me about it!”
“I didn’t know how you would react!” He pauses. “Still don’t, I guess.”
“Well, you have to tell me everything!” Glimmer insists. “Girl or guy?”
“Nope, nope, nope. There’s absolutely no way I’m saying who it is.”
“What if I guess it? Will you tell me if I’m right?”
“Nope!”
“Ugh, fiiine,” she relents. Knowing who it was might make her feel worse, anyways.
She does, of course, wistfully wonder if it’s her that he’s talking about. But the doubtful whisper that’s always always always lingering like stubborn ivy in the back of her mind says ha, good one, there’s no way he’s in love with you. You don’t even know if you’re in love with him. Why would he be in love with a childish girl who doesn’t even know what she wants--
Glimmer sighs and flips onto her back, staring up at the nothingness.
She asks, “How do you know when you’re in love with someone?”
Bow takes his time to answer again. When he seems to find an answer that he’s satisfied with, he tells her, “I think... it’s when you realize that you would do anything in the world to make that person happy.”
“Hm…” Glimmer considers this. But isn’t that what all best friends do for each other? She doesn’t voice this, because she doesn’t want to give too much away, but she’s still confused. When does friendship cross over into romance?
It’s a line they’ve tip-toed for years, balancing together, hand-in-hand, two tightrope walkers relying on each other for stability. Lately though, Glimmer feels herself losing her balance. She’s scared that when she tips over and falls to one side of the rope, she’ll be alone there. Again.
All of those thoughts aren’t going in a direction that Glimmer approves of, so she tries to kill her insecurity with a nice lighthearted joke.
“Does your crush know that you talk in your sleep?” she teases Bow as she rolls towards him again.
He actually laughs at that instead of getting defensive like she thought he would. It’s an irony she hasn’t picked up on yet. “How can you say anything about my sleep-talking when you’re a chronic snorer?”
Glimmer gasps at this. “I don’t snore!”
“Yep, every night. I even recorded it once. Want to hear the playback?”
“You did WHAT?!”
“Just kidding!” Bow laughs. “You only snore sometime s. The rest of the time you are a very cute sleeper, I promise.”
Glimmer huffs at this, but she doesn’t exactly have the evidence to prove that she doesn’t snore. “Wait… do you watch me sleep?” she asks.
“Er-- I mean-- Uhh--” Got him. “Not all the time! A couple times, maybe. Sorry, is it weird? I won’t do it again.”
“No! It’s not weird. I’ve watched you sleep before, too,” she admits, and it does feel weird to say that out loud. At least they’re on the same level now. “... Is that ok?”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. I don’t mind either.“
There’s a moment of silence. It’s awkward and unsure, and they aren't sure exactly what to say. Whatever was planted here long ago-- though they aren't sure when-- feels like it's starting to sprout. Which should be new and exciting and... less scary than it is right now, right? It's so easy to let something die, but there's something extra heartbreaking about nurturing something that doesn't survive. Glimmer isn't sure if it's better to mourn what never bloomed, to keep safe what she already knows, rather than grow something new and risky, only to fail and ruin everything and end up frostbitten and shivering and abandoned and alone-- ... So, she doesn't know where to go from here.
“... We should probably sleep now,” Glimmer suggests half-heartedly.
“Yeah,” Bow agrees, with the same hesitation.
Between them, his hand reaches up, and it finds her shoulder. It moves upwards, and his fingers brush against her neck, along her jaw. He rests his palm against her cheek, and his thumb brushes lightly along her cheekbone. She smiles softly and turns her face to press into the touch.
They’re both silent while the unsaid words stir restlessly in the back of their throat. It would be so much easier to do if they could just see the other person right now. They could examine the other’s expression and get a sense of what they're thinking and how they're feeling. They could figure out if the other person feels the same way they do. Glimmer fights the urge to conjure up some light herself.
They wait too long, and the moment slips away.
But it’s okay. Maybe this wasn’t the right time, they both think.
Instead, Bow pulls Glimmer close, even closer than they normally are when they cuddle together, and buries his face into her neck, his cheeks warm and his breath ticklish, like pollen and springtime. He gives her a tight, affectionate squeeze, holding it for a few moments. When he loosens his arms, it feels too soon, and Glimmer immediately misses the warmth of him. His head moves back up to her level, and he plants a light kiss right along her hairline.
“Goodnight, Glimmer,” he murmurs, breath brisk against her forehead, and she’s never heard him say it with such tenderness.
Her chest flutters again, and although she mutters a goodnight back, she doesn’t fall asleep for another hour.