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This is Vice's first time seeing the ocean. It's kind of a miracle, really, such a luxurious opportunity practically falling into her lap (well, the Navigator's, technically). Either way, she's grateful to be here, drinking in the warm sunlight and the sight of blue water and palm trees.
And Carleen. Right. Of course Carleen's here too! They've become a lot closer recently, which is to be expected when they're in close quarters all the time on the Colossus. It's a far cry from how they were back when they were classmates. Vice's grateful for all the company at the resort, sure. They're all her treasured friends and teammates. But there's something undeniably… special about Carleen, something that Beryl and Raphael and even the Navigator just don't seem to have. The way she moves, the way she fights, the way she carries herself: it's all so incredibly beautiful.
The first strange thing happens when the four girls in their party go together to pick out swimsuits from the resort's shop. Vice doesn't really think much of it. She's gone clothes shopping plenty of times, and it's not like it's a high-risk activity. The group naturally splits into pairs, with Raphael dragging Beryl off somewhere and leaving Vice with Carleen.
Together, the two girls peruse the displays and racks. Vice finds something she likes easily. Comfortable, but still fun and cute, and efficient enough to swim in without her tail getting in the way. "That will look good on you," Carleen says from behind her, and Vice's heart nearly gives out.
"Thanks! Yeah, I think I'm gonna go with this," Vice says, trying not to give away the fact that her body feels like it might explode. Carleen complimented her! Sure, it's not the first time, even if Vice would be hard pressed to remember any specifics right now, but this feels altogether different. "Do you have one you like?" she asks, trying to draw attention off herself.
Carleen holds up two unmatched pieces, a white top and a black bottom. "I think this will work," she says. "Certainly I can pair it with some accessories."
"Um, you know you have two different colors, right?"
"Of course I do!" Carleen says, but Vice knows that she's not mad even if she sounds kind of indignant. "It's mix and match for a reason. This is fashion, Vice. A swimsuit is a warrior's armor at the beach."
"Fashion… huh," Vice mumbles, smiling nonetheless. Bantering like this with Carleen is fun, and makes her heart feel warm—that's what good friends are for.
The food at the Tir' Hotel is nothing short of incredible. Vice is torn between savoring every bite and shoveling it into her mouth as fast as she can, but her appetite wins out in the end. That's the second weird thing that happens when they're at the resort: Vice finishes up her lunch, and sits back in contentment, and Carleen leans close to her across the table.
"You got it on the side of your lips," Carleen says. "Let me wipe it off."
"Oh, thank you," Vice says, suddenly dizzy and nervous for some reason. The world slows, and Carleen's fingers brush against her lips.
(It's not until later that she realizes the significance of such a gesture. Carleen has always been one to keep her personal space, never touching or being touched. Yet, for Vice, she had reached out with no hesitation at all.)
The fabric of reality shifts back to normal as Carleen sits down, and the conversation continues. Vice can hear herself talking, barely giving any thought to what she's saying. Something about the Illumina Federation's cafeteria. She doesn't care. All her thoughts are of the girl in front of her, whose eyes she can no longer meet.
And so it goes. Vice can feel the phantom touch of Carleen's hand against her cheek and mouth for the rest of the morning, burning a hole through her chest.
The group has been signed up for all manner of beach activities in the name of the Ocean Sovereign competition. Vice is an enthusiastic player at this kind of thing, even with the many obstacles and distractions in her way (mostly, that Genevieve lady's whole entourage). Losing isn't an option, but even if they did, it would still be fun. Maybe.
At her side, all throughout, is Carleen. High-stakes volleyball and intense beach chess are no match for Carleen. Even if Vice's team almost gets wiped out before the final singing competition. Twice. The important thing is, uh, well… well…
Vice realizes, all of a sudden, that she's been watching Carleen throughout these matches. She's a dignified fighter, her body twisting gracefully as she leaps to spike the volleyball back into their opponents' side of the court. She thinks fast, shooting her water gun with such perfect aim and precision that she makes it look effortless. Even the little things like the braid in her hair and the taut muscles of her legs stand out to Vice. Well.
Okay, sure, she always thought Carleen was really pretty, even back when they were in school. But that's normal, right? She can admire the way another girl looks without it meaning anything. And Carleen is so elegant, so perfect and poised, and she looks right at home at this expensive resort. She's a work of art, and slightly pushy and annoying and firm in her convictions, and Vice never wants to leave her side.
After another wonderful and lively dinner in the hotel's dining area, Vice bids her friends goodnight and slips off back to her hotel room. As much as she'd rather be around people, this is the kind of dilemma best thought about alone, with only the gentle crash of ocean waves for company. Besides, if she was going to discuss this with someone else, it would be better to put a name to it beforehand.
All things considered, Vice is pretty sure her feelings aren't strictly platonic anymore. They're not the admiration and respect she has for Hiiro, nor the gratitude she feels for Vivian's strict motherly kindness. They're not even close to the partnership she feels with the Navigator—she tries to imagine herself holding his hand in a romantic sense, and cannot. But when she thinks of Carleen, and the way it felt to squeeze her hand as they jumped onto Raphael's airship back then, Vice's heart clenches tight in her chest.
Carleen. Carleen. She's at least sure Carleen doesn't hate her, so that's a start. Does Carleen even like girls? What is Vice supposed to do in a situation like this? What can she do?
Unbidden, she imagines kissing Carleen on the lips, and stops breathing for a moment.
I like her. No use denying that anymore. I like Carleen. It's been so obvious, too. Why didn't she realize sooner? I like Carleen so much. These feelings—how long have they been blossoming within her? How long has she brushed them off, convincing herself they meant nothing?
Fueled by nervous energy, Vice goes from pacing around her hotel room to making a beeline for the phone. She swallows the lump in her throat and picks up the receiver. With trembling fingers, she dials Carleen's room number before she can think twice about it.
It rings once, twice, a third time. Vice can picture her sitting there, deciding whether or not to pick up. This was a stupid idea anyway; Vice should just give up and wait until tomorrow. She should think it through more. She should—
"Hello?" Carleen says.
"Oh! Hi, Carleen!" Vice melts into a nervous puddle of butterflies in her stomach and sweaty hands clutching the receiver too tight.
"Vice? What is it?"
"I wanted to talk to you about something… it kind of has to be in person, though. Could I stop by?"
Carleen makes a little noise, a small hum made static by the phone line. "Sure. But make it quick. I was about to go to bed."
"Okay! Be right there!" Vice slams the phone down before Carleen can change her mind, and runs out into the hall.
Carleen's room is near-identical to Vice's, with the marked difference that Carleen is staying in it. Neat and tidy, and most of her belongings still in her suitcase. The lights are turned down low, giving a spectacular view of the ocean outside the large windows. And Carleen herself is sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. She's changed from her swimsuit into a nightgown, and unbraided her hair. She still looks so incredibly beautiful.
"Don't just stand there. Come sit." Carleen pats the space on the bed next to her.
Trying to quell some of her nervousness, Vice does. It's just sitting next to a friend. She's done that hundreds of times. She can be cool about it. "Thanks for having me!" she says. Okay, great start.
Carleen nods once, diplomatic. "What did you want to talk about?"
Now or never. She's so close. She smells nice, like light floral perfume. Focus, Vice. "Well, uh… how do I say this? This whole time, we've been working together, and… this whole vacation thing has been really nice! Ahaha, um, I guess I'm trying to say I like spending time with you, and, uh…"
Carleen's eyes narrow an imperceptibly tiny bit. "Vice, please get to the point."
Oh, right, yeah, she probably should. Right. "Right! Carleen, I—I think I like you… yeah!" Saying it out loud makes Vice's face absolutely burn hot, and her hands shake so hard it almost hurts. She said it. She said it and her heart's beating loud in her ears, and the anxious euphoria in her heart could power a city.
"You think?" Carleen says quietly. Her face remains neutral, and Vice can't be sure if this is good or bad.
"Well, no… I do. I do like you," Vice replies. "If you want I'll leave you alone—"
"Don't," Carleen interrupts. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to—" She shakes her head, cutting herself off. "Vice. I feel the same. I've felt the same for weeks." Her cheeks have gone pink, making her even more adorable than usual in the low light.
Vice can't breathe for a moment, and then all at once she processes what Carleen just said. "You like me? Really?" Joy washes over her, a wide grin coming to her face. "I didn't know, I was just so—"
"Don't worry about it—"
"Carleen!" Vice is shaking with excitement. "Can we like, date? Can we be girlfriends?"
"Well," Carleen says, and stares at the floor. "It'll be difficult, with my position in Lumopolis and all…" She looks back up, smiling, and gently places her hand atop Vice's. "But I would love to. It is nothing we can't handle. I would be truly honored to have you as my—my girlfriend, Vice."
Vice squeaks happily, unable to contain her emotions at what she's just heard. "Me too," she says, and dives in to kiss Carleen's lips. It doesn't quite work out the way it does in movies. Their noses bump together, and Vice barely lands anywhere near Carleen's mouth.
"No, turn your head like this—"
"Oh—I got it, yeah!"
She tastes nice is Vice's only real coherent thought. Carleen is probably wearing some kind of lip balm, but even without considering that, her lips are so soft and so warm and this is a rush unlike anything Vice has ever felt before. It feels like it lasts forever, even though it's only a second. Immediately, Vice wants to kiss her again.
When they pull away, there's an ethereal sort of moment: all the world's potential in the small space between them. So many things unspoken, so many feelings and emotions overflowing. And, despite it all, or maybe because of it, Vice starts to laugh.
"What?"
"My girlfriend," Vice giggles. "It just feels really nice to say it, don't you think?"
The expression on Carleen's face is perhaps the gentlest Vice has ever seen her make. Perfectly peaceful and serene, content to be so close to Vice. It's enough to make Vice giddy all over again: Carleen, beautiful and graceful and noble Carleen, actually likes her back. Right now Vice feels like she could do anything, powered by the raw emotional energy of Carleen being at her side.
"I agree," Carleen says, and presses another kiss to Vice's smiling lips.