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Agatha had been your closest friend since you were old enough to understand the concept of friendship. You were inseparable. There were no secrets between you. Every milestone you reached, you reached together; the first successful hex, the first time you ventured into unfamiliar land, even your birthdays were separated only by a couple days.
When you were struggling with your studies, Agatha would spend all night by your side explaining the subject in greater details, and vice versa for the few times she fell behind. So it came as no surprise that you were both top of the class, slightly isolated from your fellow witches. This segregation never bothered you, however, as you were more than happy spending all your free time with Agatha.
Take today, for example: the weather was perfect and you had nothing better to do than laze around for the entire day. The ground was dry enough to lie down on without worrying about ruining your clothes, and the midday humidity was accompanied by a light breeze. Perfection. Especially with Agatha lying beside you, who would occasionally shuffle around or sigh. She wasn't great at relaxing, her mind too restless to take a break.
"Did you hear about Charlotte?" She asks suddenly, turning to look at you.
You sigh. So much for peace and quiet. "No. What did she do?"
"Mother caught her sneaking away to the village last night. Gave her such a fright that she confessed everything."
"Confessed?" You repeat the word frowning. While outings to the village were few and far in between, going without permission was hardly the end of the world. It was one of the lesser rules: advice rather than a punishable offence.
Agatha grins, finding a cruel sense of amusement in the girl's mistake. "She was courting a boy in secret. Snuck away to meet him every night."
Unlike your friend, you understand the girl's craving for romance, sympathise slightly with her suffering. "Was his memory wiped?"
Agatha nods. "And she was devastated about it. Even begged to have her own memories removed too."
"That must be awful." You murmur. "To experience such loss."
Hearing movement to your side, you turn to see Agatha propped up on her elbow, fixing you with a puzzled look. "What's gotten into you?"
"I guess..." You stare up at the sky, unable to cope with her intensely perceptive glare. "I can understand why she would pursue a relationship. Why she'd want a life separate from the Coven."
"So you want an escape?" Despite the considerate words, Agatha sounds surprisingly offended.
"No!" You quickly correct yourself, unwilling to upset your friend. "I mean to be in love. Experience intimacy and all of that..." You shrug it off, embarrassed by the confession, but know Agatha is the type of person to file the information away for later. She never forgets anything.
"Oh."
Common sense tells you to stay silent, but curiosity wins, prompting you to ask in a low voice. "Have you ever-" You swallow, blushing lightly at the question. "kissed anyone?"
"No." She scoffs. "I would've told you if I had."
"Right." You wring your hands together, a strange tension lingering from your inquiry. Instead of focusing on the bizarre silence, you opt to direct your attention to the branches of the tree above, content watching the leaves flutter in the wind.
"Do you want to?" Her question does nothing to ease the tension. You can still sense her eyes on you, and for some reason, it causes you to flush.
"Yes..."
“Alright.” Agatha sits up, looking down at you expectantly. “Close your eyes then.”
Oh. She'd been offering rather than inquiring. You'd misunderstood what she'd asked, yet looking up at her, it becomes impossible to say no. You like to think it's because the opportunity is too good to pass on. But in reality, you're convinced by the soft appearance to her eyes, the way they scan your face with uncharacteristic uncertainty. And the way her lips are parted slightly, tongue resting between her teeth as she waits for you. It's Agatha's whole demeanour that lures you in. Like you were seeing her in an entirely new light.
You sit up, shuffling back to rest against the trunk of a tree. She lurches forward too fast for you to comprehend, then hesitates, leaving you holding your breath. One hand raises to brush a strand of hair out of your face and you exhale. She's sitting close enough for you to see every detail on her face. From the almost imperceptible scar along the bridge of her nose, to the many shades of blue filling her eyes. She's perfect.
The first caress of Agatha's lips is tentative, neither sure what to do, though it feels right nonetheless. Barely a second apart and you're already craving more, returning with confidence. She shifts her hand to hold the side of your neck.
“Tilt your head a little.” She purrs against your lips.
You oblige her wish and lean to the left, your lips subconsciously opening. In response, her tongue slips into your mouth and you gasp, eyes snapping open. Although upon catching sight of Agatha, who was pouring her heart and soul into the kiss, you relax. You take the time to savour the moment, to savour her. She tastes uniquely like herself, otherwise indescribable.
You feel a pleasant burning in your stomach when she moans softly, which endures even as you break away. Neither of you say anything, preferring to stare at the other in an appreciative silence. Her thumb begins gently tracing circles along your cheek. You soften at the touch, falling further forward so there was as little distance between your bodies as possible.
Agatha was your closest friend, and so much more.