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Parties are…not Mai’s scene. Especially not parties like these, with an overcrowded dance floor, shitty alcohol, the pungent smell of sweat, and music so loud it’s a miracle the campus police haven’t come knocking yet.
She isn’t sure why she’s here, to be honest. She has no clue who the host even is, she can count the people she knows here on one hand, and the music sounds like it’s picked from a playlist called Top 100 Songs to Give Yourself a Migraine.
Yet she finds herself here, picking at her nails as she sits on a horrible orange couch shoved as far away from the speakers as possible. Would anyone notice if she just left? She briefly entertains the thought, but then she spots a familiar figure coming out of the crowd, holding two glasses and smiling brightly as she walks towards Mai, and that thought vanishes.
Ty Lee sits down next to Mai and blows the few strands that have fallen out of her braid out of her face. Then she turns to Mai with a grin and lifts one of the glasses, the pale yellow liquid almost spilling over the edge. “Want one?”
Mai shrugs. “Sure.” Ty Lee hands her the glass and she takes a sip, fighting a grimace as the drink turns out to be so watered-down it’s barely recognisable as rice wine. She puts the glass down.
Ty Lee seems not to care about the terrible quality of the beverage, happily taking a sip as she makes herself comfortable, settling into the corner of the couch. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Mai swirls the glass around in her hand. “It’s okay, I suppose.” She doesn’t tell her the only reason she’s here at all is that she’d asked her to, and Mai simply can’t say no to Ty Lee.
Ty Lee shrugs. “Well, at least no one has tried to commit arson this time.”
Mai raises an eyebrow. “Yet.”
Ty Lee laughs at that, a little louder than the situation calls for. “You know,” she says, “you’re actually really funny.”
“Really.” It’s supposed to be a question, but something about Mai’s voice turns it into more of a dry statement, an expression of disbelief.
Ty Lee returns the look. “Really.”
Mai shrugs. “Well, you’re the only one who sees it that way then.”
Ty Lee shrugs too, a small smile on her face as she moves closer. “Then everyone else just doesn’t have a good sense of humour.”
This close, Mai can see the glitter shimmering on Ty Lee’s cheeks, flushed from the heat. She can see the way her bright pink eyeshadow is slightly faded on the left, the smudge of mascara on her right eyelid.
“And doesn’t that make it all the more true, anyway?” she continues, tone teasing, and Mai’s eyes are drawn to the smirk that pulls at her lips. “If that’s what everyone else thinks, why would I lie and say the opposite?”
Mai doesn’t know if she replies, and if she does it’s barely more than a breath, a whisper lost to the loudness of the music. She isn’t drunk, but there’s this buzz underneath her skin that makes her just a little less careful than she would normally be. Enough to make Ty Lee notice the way she’s looking at her.
They’re both silent, now. Every sound, every movement fades away, leaving nothing but them, and time drips slow and thick like honey. Mai is still as a statue, afraid to shatter this fragile, crystallised silence, this quiet anticipation that hangs in the air between them.
She could lean in, just a little. Cross the small distance left between them and press her lips to Ty Lee’s, softer and sweeter than she could ever imagine in her dreams; sling her arms around her neck and give in to the wanting she has been carrying with her for years.
But these mere inches are an ocean, a distance she can’t cross. Shouldn’t cross.
“I have to go,” she whispers, and the bubble bursts. Mai scrambles to her feet and turns away before she can see Ty Lee’s reaction, weaving through the crowd as fast as she can. She shrugs on her coat as she rushes through the hallway. She needs to get out of here.
Just as she steps out into the night, a hand clasps around her wrist, and she turns to look over her shoulder, ready to tell off whoever thinks they can just grab her, but her words die on her lips as she sees Ty Lee standing there, holding open the door Mai had meant to fling shut just a moment ago.
A soft whisper breaks the silence as she looks up at Mai with big, shining eyes. “Wait.” Before Mai can make up an excuse about how she really needs to go, how she forgot the time or has class tomorrow, Ty Lee steps outside too, pulling on her bright teal varsity jacket. “Let me walk you home.”
Mai blinks, then nods ever so slightly, and Ty Lee closes the door behind her. Mai shoves her hands in her coat pockets and allows Ty Lee to chatter on as they walk. She talks more at her than to her, but she doesn’t mind. Ty Lee never expects her to reply. She fills the silence and allows Mai to sort out her thoughts at the same time, which Mai can appreciate. (She notices, though, that she doesn’t bring up what happened at the party.)
The bright light from the lampposts casts long shadows on the street as they pass them. The breeze has Mai fighting a shiver, and she pulls her coat tighter against herself; she sneaks a glance at Ty Lee, but she’s walking on cheerily, unperturbed by the cold this early spring night brings.
Mai shakes her head and tears her gaze away, fixing it on the ground. She needs to clear her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about this, shouldn’t be having this hope—she can’t—but regret swirls in her stomach and her mind refuses to quieten. The image of Ty Lee so close yet so far away won’t leave her, no matter how hard she tries to shake it. Even as she tries to scatter her thoughts in the wind, the feeling lingers.
Far too soon, they arrive at Mai’s front door. “Well.” Ty Lee turns to her with a small smile, but it feels forced. “Goodnight, Mai.”
There it is again, that look. It’s the same one that flashed through her eyes back on that couch. Anticipation, a glimmer of hope—and just like that, the wanting is back again, a fire fully ablaze in Mai’s chest where she thought the cold night air had stilled it. It would be so easy to do it, to step forward and kiss her, to confess what she feels. It would only take a moment.
(If only she were brave enough.)
“Goodnight,” she whispers, voice rough, and pretends not to see the sadness that flashes across Ty Lee’s face, pretends not to feel the pang of guilt in her chest. She feels her eyes on her as she turns around and fumbles with the key, and when the lock opens with a click, she flashes her a final, brief smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
When Ty Lee is gone, she opens her bedroom window and rests her arms on the sill, sighing as she looks at the stars twinkling far away, and pretends not to feel the quiet tears that slip down her cheeks. Pretends not to feel the way her heart bleeds with longing.