Archive of Our Own

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Trixie Mattel is a woman of grace and dignity. She’s in her early thirties, and she’s neither married nor a mother. She’s in her early thirties not living the way society wants her to. She’s in her early thirties and quite frankly she’s tired of apologizing for it.

Trixie Mattel is a woman who identifies as lesbian and lives very platonically with her best friend Katya Zamolodchikova who also happens to be a lesbian woman. Not so much of grace and dignity, but a woman nonetheless.

Trixie Mattel is a woman who is having a midlife crisis because she’s in her early thirties, neither married nor a mother, and living very platonically with her best friend.

Trixie Mattel has a secret: she is spiraling. But that’s the one thing she keeps to herself the same way a smoker hides that they haven’t quit or the way a husband hides his secret scandalous gay lover; she guards it with her life.

Not many people are let into Trixie Mattel’s life. She prides herself in having friends whom she can tell anything and trusts with everything, but getting to know new people is something she struggles with. A lot. So when her best friend Katya told her that she could find Trixie a wife within 20 dates, Trixie agreed because honestly? She had nothing better to do. Was she hesitant? Oh, most definitely. But when she looked over at Katya in shock after hearing the suggestion and seeing her gleeful eyes and teeth biting into her lower lip in anticipation, she agreed with a smile so clenched it ached for a solid two days afterward.

They set up a system where Trixie goes on a date every Friday and then they rate the people based on a set list of features. If they score above an 8, Trixie goes on a second date.

So far no seconds have been served, but Katya is determined. Trixie kind of just wants to spend the rest of her days crying herself to sleep after going to town on her vibrator, but that’s something she’s gonna keep to herself for now.

“What did you say her height was again?”, Katya says, huffing her bangs that have fallen over her eyes away.

It makes Trixie quirk a smile and she twitches a little. It’s something that Katya does involuntarily, something so insignificant that she doesn’t even seem to notice that she does it. But Trixie notices every time. It’s one of her favorite things Katya does. It makes her seem more human somehow because sometimes she’s convinced Katya is a superhuman or goddess or something like that. Just the way she speaks and acts and does things so well all the time. Anyways.

Trixie rolls over on the couch and groans. She’s wrapped up in Katya’s duvet that she always brings out here because it always feels ten times better than her own for some reason. She also likes how they smell, the residue of Katya’s perfume that stains it. She also smells her own perfume on there, mixed together with Katya’s in a way that almost makes her dizzy. She likes the way the two contrast each other, much like they do.

Katya is sitting in the armchair adjacent to her. Trixie always tries to get her to sit on the sofa so that she can rest her head on her lap, but Katya insists on making this as therapy-esque as possible, and so Trixie is laying on the couch and Katya is silently judging her.

“Oh, she was a perfect height, like 172? I think?”, she replies, hoping Katya hears her the first time because she’s too tired to lift her head out from under the duvet. She nods in reply, humming gently. Trixie can tell she wants to say something else by the way her mouth opens a little but only lets out a soft sigh instead.

“What?”, she encourages, because she is exhausted after a long week at work and an even more tiring failed date. She needs an entire pack of aspirin. Or, scratch that: she needs an entire bottle of Pinot Grigio and an entire pack of cigarette smoke blown into her face by her roommate out on the balcony. Or in here. Trixie is too tired to chastise Katya for smoking indoors right now, and that’s how she knows she’s feeling bad. Honestly? She would welcome the scent and the dull headache caused by the smoke. And she wants to let Katya know. To look up at her through heavy eyelashes and let her know that It’s okay Katya, you can smoke in here today, in fact, please do. And she wants to watch Katya’s mouth break out into a grin, and scurry off to find her cigarettes and eventually ask Trixie where they are because she always knows and they’ll be in her pocket like always and Katya will say to her oh, you’re my lifesaver, and kiss her passionately and-

“Well, I’m 172 cm.”

Right. Back on track Trixie, back on track.

“And?”.

“So… I’m your ideal height?”, she says as she glances over at Trixie with a smirk. And something in the room shifts almost immediately. Trixie feels herself begin to break out into a sweat, and her mind comes to a halt rendering any quick dig or comeback too late to say without seeming desperate. The ominous sound of their old clock standing in all its blissfully ignorant glory mocks her as the seconds keep passing and Trixie has yet to say something. And so Katya does instead.

“Shit, sorry Trix, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, she says gnawing her lip, and Trixie hates that she ever makes Katya elicit an anxious response like this one.

“No! It’s fine. I- I just have never thought about it before”.

Which is a total lie. Trixie thinks about it all the time. She thinks about how her ideal height was first made obvious by how her hands became clammy seven years ago when Katya hugged her for the first time at her birthday party. How it felt so natural that she was able to rest her head on Trixie’s chest, with her chin digging into the curve of her breast, and how nice it felt when Katya caused her skin to vibrate when she wished Trixie the happiest of all birthdays. Just like she’s done every year since then.

Katya looks at her with a quick smile on her face but doesn’t smile the way Trixie likes; when her eyes crinkle and become almost slits. She changes the subject, and it would be natural if Trixie knew her a little less. But she doesn’t.

She prides herself in knowing everything about Katya. They’ve known each other since college, and have lived together for five years. They’ve seen each other through ups and downs, and have not seen each other through ups and downs. Like that huge fight, they had two years ago when Trixie told Katya she needed to go to rehab for alcoholism.

They had shouted and yelled like never before, and it ended up with Katya packing a suitcase and slamming the door, and Trixie crying herself to sleep in Katya’s bed. She had phoned around like a crazy person the next day trying to find out where Katya had gone, worried and scared for her life that something had happened to Katya. She had found her phone on the kitchen counter after waking up, and her heart had plummeted. Her alcoholic friend had left, drunk, without a phone, late at night with nothing but a suitcase and wandering into the streets of Los Angeles.

When she finally called Katya’s mother she had gotten an answer. Katya had caught a red eye in the early morning hours after taking a cab to LAX. She was currently back in Boston planning on leaving for rehab in Boston the day after. Trixie had collapsed in tears, both happy and sad, and had left the call feeling bittersweet. Her friend was getting help, but the term friend was now a thing of the past.

Nonetheless, Trixie had begged Pat (who, to be fair, needed not much convincing) to come along to pick Katya up. She couldn’t sleep for two days in anticipation, terrified that Katya would still be mad at her and reject her (In a friendly way of course. Cause they’re friends Brenda, nothing else).

When Katya left rehab she carried her suitcase in one hand and several canvases under her other arm. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and she looked healthy, happy. Her skin was glowing, she had put on weight, a bit of fat but mostly muscle, and allowed herself to be hugged by her parents for several minutes. Trixie had stayed in the car, not wanting to intrude on their family reunion, but had already started crying. When they finally separated the hug Trixie climbed out of the car, fully expecting the worst. But when Katya locked eyes with her she looked shocked and stood still as if in a trance. But when Trixie took a small step back, Katya threw her stuff to the ground and ran up to Trixie, jumping onto her and making them both fall over in the process. Katya, who had remained smiling until then just cried and cried, repeating how sorry she was for their fight and how she motivated herself to get healthy again through Trixie. And Trixie hugged her tighter and whispered how she wished she would have been there to encourage her and motivate her and love- well, you get the picture.

So, yeah: Trixie’s been there through Katya’s ups and (not) there through some of Katya’s downest downs. And she does know everything about Katya.

She knows how she likes her coffee (a venti cold brew from Starbucks or a large iced black coffee with two extra shots of espresso from their local coffee shop), and she knows that her favorite flowers are jasmine because she loves the smell of them when they sprout in late May. She also knows that she hates receiving flowers but loves giving them to Trixie, and often does so when Trixie’s gotten a promotion or has a birthday or like every other Sunday to start the week off fresh.

It’s the little things Katya does too, though, that Trixie’s gotten so familiar with that she can recite their different routines to anyone who asks. How Trixie wakes up first and has a shower and gets ready. When she gets out again Katya has prepared breakfast and coffee, they eat together, and then Katya showers and gets ready and Trixie does the dishes.

These routines have over the years fallen into place naturally. So much so that when Trixie got a promotion and offer to move to Los Angeles to pursue her career she was so close to saying no to this lifelong dream of hers just because she didn’t want to be away from her best friend. But said best friend had encouraged her to move to LA, pursue her dreams, and create a new life.

What really convinced Trixie though was that not even a week later Katya had explained how she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to quit her job and start a new life. In LA. Nope, no correlation with Trixie moving there, no not at all. (Okay, maybe a little one).

Trixie looks at Katya with big eyes, wondering, questioning. Did Katya want to be Trixie’s ideal height? Did Katya want Trixie to find her attractive? Did Katya want Trixie to admit that she’s indescribably and undeniably in love with her?

Oops. Okay so maybe Trixie has a tiny teeny weeny tiny small crush on Katya. But so what? Everyone has a small crush on their best friend! And everyone has a crush on Katya.

It’s true! Katya is smoking hot. She’s a tattooed, muscled, smoking, atomic blonde who wears blood red lipstick as naturally as others wear lip balm. When she first walked into that lecture hall, five minutes late and rushing, her hair had been in a mess and she had beads of sweat running down her cleavage, into a black wifebeater, showing off her strong, inked arms. Trixie had instantly squeezed her thighs together. As had every other queer woman in the Feminist Ideologies class that they were in.

When the disheveled blonde had sat down in the only seat available, the one RIGHT NEXT TO TRIXIE (!!!), she opened her briefcase to get her computer, notebook, and- Oh shit. She turned to Trixie (who was definitely not staring intensely at her) with a stunning albeit embarrassed smile and asked if she may borrow a pen. Trixie (in her lesbian-panic-haze) damn near bought her every stock for BiC and Pilot there is. But ended up just giving her a pen and blurting out “youdonotneedtogiveitbackihavemorepensthanapencilcase”. And then mentally slapping herself because What?! But Katya had let out this adorable giggle and given Trixie her hand to shake to introduce herself.

Trixie had been hooked.

But she wasn’t alone in this lust-fueled crush. No, no. As soon as Trixie introduced Katya to her friend group later that same day after Katya, surprisingly (to Trixie), wanted to keep hanging out with her, they all fell in love with her too. And Trixie’s attraction to Katya had to take a back seat. Because there was no way in hell that badass Katya would go for a pink barbie over Violet, Pearl, or Naomi, all of who matched her vibe significantly more than Trixie did.

They had all immediately explained to her after Katya had left for work that “oh my god she’s so hot”, “I think I just came”, and “she’s like to die for”. And Trixie concluded that was it. Everyone liked Katya, and she would like one of them (not her) back.

But… That wasn’t how it was. Katya didn’t hook up with any of Trixie’s friends (although they all became extremely close) and when they all decided on getting apartments outside of campus and room together, Katya immediately stated that she wanted to room with Trixie. She chose Trixie.

No, this wasn’t super weird as the two had been practically joined at the hip, but for her, that always felt like her biggest accomplishment. She remembered feeling smug for months after they moved in because she got the hot blonde bombshell everyone was pining for.

All the others just assumed that they were together but not ready to tell anyone yet. When asked about it they would both deny it and laugh it off because “they’re just friends”. But none of them believe them.

But it’s the truth: Trixie and Katya have been in a platonic and borderline romantic relationship for seven years. And honestly? Trixie is getting sick and tired of it. That Katya can’t just admit what Trixie knows: that they’re meant to be together.

But now Kayta is sitting in an armchair adjacent to her, asking her about the stupid date she just came home from, and Trixie can’t be bothered anymore today. She feels tired, her body aches from five very labor-nonintensive days at work, and her head hurts from the three vodka sodas she drank to make her date more interesting and look more like her Tinder profile.

“Okay and-”

“Hey Kat, Kat stop”, she says and the exhaustion in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Katya. Everything just feels hopeless. Trixie is on the brink of crying, knowing that she will do so in no time when she hits her mattress and the door shuts behind Katya.

“Alright baby, should I take you to bed, huh? You tired?”.

Trixie doesn’t answer, just yawns and looks at her with heavy eyelids and Katya puts her laptop aside, gets up from the couch and pulls Trixie up into her arms, and carries her with the duvet still wrapped around her into Katya’s room. This is by no means an unprecedented move, as Trixie falls asleep in her room more often than in her own. But right now it just hurts. How naturally Katya carries her to what has basically become their bed. How she lays Trixie down and then gets a damp cloth to wash off Trixie’s makeup. It hurts.

“Kat- Katya. Not in here. I wanna sleep in my own room”. Katya stands frozen with the washcloth in hand, already slightly raised to wash off the remaining cosmetics, silently watches as Trixie gets off of the bed, walks with heavy steps into her own room, shutting the door after her with enough force to make Katya jump out of her trance.

They both go to bed missing something that was never there to begin with, longing and yearning.

They don’t talk about it the following morning. Katya dreaded that Trixie would go back into her own room again, but she walked straight back into their her bed as if nothing had happened.

When Katya turned off the light after finishing reading one of her newly bought psychological thrillers, Trixie rolled over to face her and shuffled in, nuzzling her face into Katya’s neck. She was greeted by the familiar and comforting scent there, breathing in the fading fragrance of her perfume, her body wash, and Katya held her harder than she had in a long time.

The following days pass in a blur. During the days they’re both off at work and at night they make sure to keep their schedules cleared so that they can find a new date for Trixie to go out with, but most of them are busy this Friday, and the ones that aren’t have blue hair, 15 piercings, and a face tattoo, so Trixie passes.

“You know, maybe you just need to get laid”, Katya says with so much sincerity that Trixie can’t help but let out a boisterous laugh.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure those five lip piercings will feel great piercing into my clit”.

“Mama, clit piercings are where it’s at! No, but I’m serious Trix, when was the last time you just went to the club and just went home with a woman and fucked?”, and when Trixie spends too long thinking about when it was Katya just looks at her sympathetically.

Trixie forgot how much she hates clubs. It’s Saturday night, maybe even Sunday morning, and Trixie has been dancing for a solid three hours. She’s absolutely wasted, her feet hurt, and her dress is one jump away from exposing more than she wants hundreds of sweaty clubbers to see. The woman she’s been dancing with for the past thirty minutes has finally started to move in closer, and Trixie can feel herself getting aroused. She hates it.

The woman is her type to a tee. The blonde hair, blue eyes, red lips, black outfit. Perfect. But the hair is too dirty of a blonde, the eyes are a shade too dark, lips too pinkish, and outfit too bland. Trixie takes another shot and the face finally starts to morph into Katya’s, and Trixie smirks at her before crashing her lips into the woman’s. When she pushes Trixie up against the grimy bathroom stall wall two minutes later Trixie feels sick to her stomach. She knows what she wants and she’s sure as hell not going to find it in a club. She wants to go home. And so she does what she does best.

“I don’t think I can do this tonight”.

“Are you sure?”, the woman asks tentatively, her face showing signs of disappointment already.

“I- Yeah. I’m just not feeling it. Is… That okay?”.

“Of course. Do you want to go home? I’ll walk you to the exit?”.

Now, this took a strange turn of events. A respectful woman? In her presence? Unprecedented.

What Trixie does best is act straight (if you can’t beat them join them). She was going to pretend to have her boyfriend pick her up in two minutes and that he’ll get mad if she sees her like this. That always works (sure she’s probably offended A LOT of lesbians and queer women but oh well), but this woman is even offering to walk her out. At a club.

The alcohol hits her hard, and Trixie is sobbing immediately.

“Oh, no no no, it’s okay! Shit, uh… Should I call someone to pick you up?”, the woman questions, and Trixie is having a hard time believing it isn’t Katya by her thoughtfulness. In her mind, Katya is the only one who would respect her boundaries, offer to walk her out, accept her kisses in dark and humid clubs. And she wants that. No one else.

“I want Katya”, Trixie whines and hurls in the same breath. The woman fishes Trixie’s phone out of her purse and calls Katya after Trixie yells her passcode too loudly.

“Hi, baby! Having a good time?”, and the corners of her mouth turn up at the way Katya casually says the pet name.

“Uh, hi, I’m Claudia, here with Trixie and I need you to pick her up”.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Who hurt her I’ll kill them”, she says panicked, already shuffling around on the other end of the line getting ready to come to pick her up.

“No no, she’s fine, but very drunk and throwing up. I’ll take her outside and we’ll be by the side of the road until you come, alright?”.

“Thank you Claudia, take care of my baby or so help me god”.

When Katya arrives five minutes later Trixie is sitting on the curb halfway through smoking a cigarette with black remnants of mascara streaking her face. The woman she’s with, Claudia, sits next to her and is seemingly conversing with her one-sidedly. When the car pulls up by them Claudia jumps up and greets Katya immediately, and she’s speaking at a million miles per hour, and Katya has to ask her to repeat herself.

“I’m really sorry Katya, I didn’t know Trixie had a girlfriend. We were talking and dancing and then all of a sudden we were kissing but she said she wanted to stop so obviously we did but I’m so sorry, I swear I’m not a homewrecker I-”

“Claudia, I’m not Trixie’s girlfriend. We’re best friends”, Katya interrupts, and Trixie responds with a grunt making both standing women turn their attention towards her. Katya kneels down to Trixie’s level and takes the cigarette from the tips of her fingers, stubs it out on the pavement beside them, and throws it in the trash.

“You know what I’ve said about smoking baby”.

“Princesses don’t smoke. I know. But then maybe I’m not a princess, huh, ever think of that?”, Trixie snaps back, crosses her arms over her chest, and huffs and Katya would be worried about the biting tone were she not completely charmed by the adorableness of the woman in front of her.

“Alright, princess, whatever you say. Come on, let’s go home. Can you stand up on your own?”, she coos, and Trixie rolls her eyes, stands, falls, and is caught by Katya.

“What’s with the attitude today sweetheart? Did I do something, huh?”, she continues, and Trixie frees herself from Katya’s grip and walks around to the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

“Jesus. Did something happen Claudia?”.

“No, not with me, but you two seemingly have some things to clear up. She obviously has feelings for you dude”.

“HA! Trixie?! Oh no no no, she would never go for someone like me, trust me Claudia. What would even make you think that?”.

“One, she found the person in the club who looks the most similar to you, two, she wanted me to call you before anyone else, three, she smiled when you called her baby over the phone, then got annoyed when you said you’re just friends. I don’t know if you’re that deep in denial or just dumb, but the chick obviously likes you. Now do something about it before someone else does. She might have called you today, but she might not next time. Have a good one, Katya”.

She’s left lost for words. Claudia enters the club again, and she hears Trixie whining through the car door. Trixie likes her? No. Claudia doesn’t know what she’s talking about. (But Katya wishes she does).

When she sits down after standing frozen for a few minutes she turns toward Trixie. Who is sleeping. So much for talking it out.

When she stirs a minute into driving Katya can’t bring herself to start speaking. Claudia doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Surely Trixie doesn’t like her. Of course not, that would be stupid and dumb. They’ve been friends for so long, Trixie doesn’t like her back and Claudia is full of shit.

“Hey Kat, why won’t you date me?”.

The car swerves a little. Fuck shit fuck fuck.

“What do you mean princess?”

“Why won’t you date me. You know I’m in love with you, so what is wrong with me”.

She’s almost speaking incoherently, but Katya’s never heard her clearer. She’s whining like a drunk person. Not like a person who just told their best friend of seven years that she’s in love with them.

“It would be so easy if we dated, ya know? We’ve lived together for five years, been best friends for seven. You know me better than anyone in the wooooorld”, she continues, and Katya is leading her into the elevator, up towards their shared apartment.

“And I already like looooove you, so I’m just waiting for you, ya knooooow”.

“Trixie, stop it, this is just you being drunk”.

The drunk girl halts outside of the bathroom and turns to Katya with a look that could actually kill.

“I’m serious, Katya, I’m in love with you. I have been for years, you know that everyone knows that. Why can’t you just admit that you love me too?”.

“Oh hop off it, Trixie, this is nonsense. You haven’t been this drunk for a long time, and so the alcohol is hitting you harder. This is nonsense”.

She’s starting to get annoyed now. Why won’t she just let it go? Not break Katya’s heart into a billion pieces by inevitably waking up tomorrow and regretting her words, the words that Katya has hoped to hear for what feels like eons.

“I think you’re minimizing my feelings”.

“I think you’re full of shit, that’s why”.

When Trixie shuts the door behind her with force Katya knows she’s fucked up. But she’s upset. Why would she bring this up now? Why not when she’s sober? This isn’t how these conversations are supposed to go; they’re supposed to be done after cuddling too close at movie night with the rain pouring and thunder echoing and The Notebook reminds you of how lonely you are and you turn to each other and say things that are long overdue and kiss and kiss and- not like this.

She sighs, rests her forehead against the door, and allows the cold wood to send a wave of shock through her body. Her eyes squeeze shut to prevent the rapidly building tears from falling freely from the corners of her eyes. As if someone decided to mimic pathetic fallacy, rain starts pouring down outside, and the smattering of raindrops on the window feels all-consuming. The sound of Trixie getting into bed on the other side of the wall reminds her of her own exhaustion, and she falls headfirst into her bed three minutes later. The now unoccupied space next to her makes her dizzy.

She promises herself they’ll work it out in the morning.

When Trixie wakes up the next morning she is immediately hit with a splitting headache. It literally feels as though someone is digging into her nerves, and she wants to kill yesterday-Trixie for drinking so damn much. When she, a minute later, remembers how she literally confessed to being in love with Katya and was rejected, she contemplates the most painless way to die within the next ten seconds.

She groans as she gets out of bed. Every time she sleeps in here she remembers how hard and lumpy her mattress is. She knew this when she and Katya went to the mattress shop to get one. As she laid down on it she knew she wouldn’t like sleeping on it, but she explained how she hoped it would convince her body to get out of bed when her alarm rang so that she wouldn’t sleep until 11 am and have to rush to her first class. She lasted a month, and after that, she made herself comfortable in Katya’s bed. She’s slept in her own bed maybe 35 times since, if they had a bad argument or Katya had a woman over. Or when she confessed her unwavering and undeniable love for Katya and was rejected.

Yesterday feels like a fever dream. She hopes Katya will forgive her. She doesn’t ever want to sleep in this bed ever again. She’ll buy a new one when the inevitable time comes when Katya kicks her out for good. In approximately an hour when Trixie is brave enough to open the door and walk out into the kitchen for breakfast, her tail tucked between her legs.

God, she feels pathetic. In Trixie’s match versus the world: 0-1.

She showers in ice-cold water, hoping it will cure the hangover at least a little and get her through the day. A bit deeper down she also feels that she’s not deserving of warmer water, that she doesn’t deserve to feel the bliss on her skin. Instead of normal temperature water, dread washes over her body. The last thing she wants to do is walk out to the kitchen and see Katya sitting at the dinner table with a frown on her face.

When she does end up walking out of her room two minutes later, hair in a towel wrap and a pair of casual shorts and a t-shirt, the kitchen is empty. At first, she thinks that Katya might just be in her room, but then she sees a little tray on the dinner table, and when she walks closer, it’s a glass of water, two painkillers, and a note which reads:

Hey Trix! I’m gonna go to Starbucks for a while and sit and sketch. I’ll give you some time to yourself, but when you’re ready, please come so that we can have a talk about yesterday. Remember that whatever happens, I love you and I always will. Now take your painkillers ya dumb bitch and come meet me! I’ll buy you your fave iced caramel frappuccino with cream and extra caramel ;)
Love Katya.

Trixie’s stomach twists and her heart beats faster. She really loves Katya, and Katya loves her too. Now she just needs to find out if it’s platonic or romantic. (Dear god let it be the latter).

She gets ready listening to her playlist heavily featuring Dolly Parton, Nancy Sinatra, and Dusty Springfield. She shuffles through the songs until she lands on the right one; You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me. As the melody rings out through the room she sings along, leaning forward to get closer to the mirror while making her eyeliner, winging it out into a large black one, like she does almost every day, and the familiarity is comforting; the tension slips away from her shoulders with ease. The rest of her routine continues just as smoothly, and by one a clock, she’s making the finishing touches to her hair.

Walking over to Starbucks feels faster than usual, and so she walks slower with heavier steps to prolong the wait. Her mind is clouded with dread and hopelessness, and for a brief second, she wonders how Katya is feeling. Does she feel the same way as her? Or is this whole talk thing just a prank to make Trixie look like a fool? She shakes the thought from her mind. She knows Katya. She knows that whatever happens Katya is still just Katya. Her best friend in the entire world. The funniest, most stunning, most amazing person she’s ever met. There really isn’t an evil bone in her body. And therefore, she’ll be fine; they will be fine. The tension in her body evaporates. Yeah, they’ll be fine.

When she arrives at Starbucks five minutes later she spots Katya through the window. She’s sitting at the table they’ve made their own, with two armchairs by a big plant which makes the seat more closed off. She’s sipping on her coffee and is listening to music in her Marshall headphones, the ones Trixie got her for Christmas. As she walks into the café and closer to Katya she notices the crease between her brows and a slight gnawing at her lip, the way she always does when she’s concentrating on something. The pencil in her hand moves quickly, gliding across the pages in a way that makes Trixie want to look at the page, see what Katya is seeing. It’s become one of her favorite things to do; looking at the world through Katya’s eyes. And when she draws Trixie, when they’re sitting on the sofa watching a movie or at a café as Trixie types away on her computer, Trixie loves seeing what she looks like in Katya’s eyes. She always feels the most beautiful after those instances.

When she comes to stand in front of Katya she looks up and immediately breaks into a smile as she recognizes Trixie, eyes crinkling and teeth showing. She stands to give Trixie a hug, and she feels her eyes begin to water, blinking quickly to get rid of them as relief floods her body. Katya motions for her to sit down, and goes up to the barista to order.

Trixie grabs the sketchbook in front of her as she waits, flicking through the pages, and is greeted by drawings she’s seen many times before. Between the random shadow figures and some landscape she finds herself looking back at her, a soft smile on some and creased brows on others.

“What if that was an invasion of privacy Trix?”, Katya says as she comes back, placing Trixie’s frappuccino and a carrot cupcake in front of her which she immediately scoops some of the frosting off with her finger and looks at Katya while licking it off, only replying with a mischievous spark in her eye.

“Alright, are you ready to talk? How are you feeling after yesterday?”, Katya continues, takes a sip from her own coffee, looks questioning at Trixie.

“How am I feeling in terms of hungover? Or in terms of ‘I just confessed my love to my best friend of seven years and was rejected’”, she replies, and Katya sighs, puts down her mug.

“Trix- I did not reject you I just-”

“Oh so saying that it was nonsense and I was full of shit is not enough of a rejection for you?”, she huffs back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Oh come on Trixie you have to understand that it came out of nowhere? I seriously thought you were saying it because you were drunk. Were- were you being serious?”.

Trixie has her eyes set on a man who’s walking into the shop, not wanting to hold eye contact with Katya, fearing that it would feel even more uncomfortable than she’s feeling now.

“I- yeah, yeah I see how it came out of nowhere. I’m sorry for being pissy Kat but I feel like you rejected me, how were you expecting me to act? You know me better than anyone, I bet you could have perfectly predicted my reaction to this whole kerfuffle”, she replies in a softer voice, feeling vulnerable now that they’re talking about it, hugs herself a bit tighter. Katya smiles at the choice of diction, knowing that a lot of Trixie’s vocabulary comes from British TV shows.

“Trixie”, she says, leaning forward and putting her hand on her thigh comfortingly.

”I’m sorry you thought I rejected you, but you know that ever since I got sober I don’t trust what people say when they’re drunk”.

“You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts”, Trixie replies, laughing uncomfortably.

“Trix- were you actually being serious? Trixie tell me again and I’ll tell you what you want to hear, please just tell me again”.

“Kat this is cruel don’t make me say it again”, she groans but places her hand on Katya’s where it still rests on her leg.

“Ugh fine. I’m like hopelessly in love with you or whatever and I like want to date you, I know, lame”, she continues, and Katya lets out a breath of relief.

“Trix, I love you too, duh. I’m in love with you too. Obviously dumbass”.

“Wait- wha- what? Kat- what?”, she’s grasping Katya’s hand with both of hers now, leaning forward more with her mouth hanging open and eyebrows up to her hairline.

“I thought you knew babe, I’ve been in love with you for years, everyone knows that. I thought you were just making fun of me or something yesterday in your drunken state”.

“No, everyone did not know that, why didn’t you tell me, Katya!”

“No Trix, all of our friends knew. I’ve like had a crush on you since you first borrowed me your pencil. I still have it, you know.”

She does, it’s tucked away in a box in her closet where she keeps all of her sentimental items that she’s gotten or collected through the years. It contains a few polaroids of friends from high school she doesn’t talk to anymore, letters from girlfriends that she doesn’t have anymore, and a few stuffed animals from relatives that have passed. But amongst those are things from Trixie, the only one that remains. She had put the pencil in there in the spur of the moment, feeling stupid right after but eternally grateful now.

“I- I don’t know what to say”.

“Well, I was moreso thinking that you don’t say anything and just kiss me instead, if that seems like a good course of action to you”.

And oh god did that sound like heaven, finally kissing the lips that she’s been dreaming of for the past few years. But the universe seems to have different plans because when they both lean forward to finally finally connect their lips Katya falls forward, bumps Trixie’s chin with her forehead, and lands on her knees by the coffee table, bracing herself on Trixie’s knees.

“Well, that was awkward”, she says, before looking up at Trixie who meets her eyes and immediately screeches out a laugh, with is instantly mirrored by Katya. When they’ve settled and Katya is in her chair again Trixie looks at her with sincerity.

“Hey”.

“Hey, hello hi Tallulah”.

“Kat why don’t we go on a date before moving further, huh?”.

“Does that mean I have to refrain from kissing you?”

“For now, yes”.

“Ugh, fine, after seven years, a day or two doesn’t seem unmanageable I guess”.

“Good. I’m glad”.

“So am I, Trix, so am I”.