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It’s not like Ganyu even wants to be friends with her new roommate.
In fact, Ganyu has long since decided that keeping a careful distance from your roommate tends to make your life easier. Ganyu is pretty sure the only reason she’s survived having roommates for this long is because she’d struck the right balance between being friendly and unyielding. If Ganyu had been friends with Bao’er, she would’ve felt too awkward to ask her to either tell her girlfriend to leave or move out, and Ganyu would still currently be stuck with a third roommate who didn’t pay rent.
So it’s not like Ganyu wants to be friends with Keqing. Ganyu is pretty sure being friends with the girl would be akin to being friends with a bulldozer anyway. Keqing is blunt, assertive, a clean freak, and generally not exactly a joy to be around, although in all fairness Ganyu hasn't spent enough time with her to find out.
The thing is, Ganyu had thought their relationship would develop very differently ever since Ganyu had caught Keqing calling Ganyu hot a week into their cohabitation.
Keqing had been in the kitchen, and Ganyu hadn’t realized she was on the phone until she’d heard of course I didn’t move in with her because she was hot, Ning, I didn’t even know what she looked like. Ganyu had thought she had misheard her, but the words were pretty self-explanatory. Ganyu had turned around before Keqing could realize she was there and hoped to God this wouldn’t become a situation.
Ganyu could admit to herself that Keqing was pretty. Very pretty. With her lavender hair and her cat-like eyes, Keqing was probably, easily one of the prettiest people Ganyu had seen in her life. But she was also her roommate, and Ganyu had a strict no-hooking-up-with-roommates policy that she wasn't about to break just because her roommate was attractive. Or because said roommate apparently thought Ganyu was attractive as well.
To Keqing’s credit and Ganyu’s initial relief, it did not become a situation. In fact, Keqing showed no sign whatsoever of wanting anything to do with Ganyu.
Ganyu is pretty sure Keqing doesn't even like her.
Which shouldn’t be an issue. Ganyu isn’t desperate to be liked. As long as Keqing isn’t a nuisance and cleans after herself, Ganyu shouldn’t care if she can go a week without exchanging a word with her, or if Keqing seems more than happy to pretend Ganyu doesn’t exist majority of the time. Ganyu wouldn’t even know how to begin explaining to Keqing that it bothers her that she barely knows anything about the person she lives with or how the apartment feels so empty Ganyu forgets that she’s not alone without sounding weird and needy anyway.
Two months later, Ganyu has come to terms with the fact that she and Keqing will never have any sort of relationship beyond roommates who tolerate each other, and Ganyu is fine with that.
Or so she tells herself.
☽☽☽
Ganyu’s first real conversation with Keqing happens because Ganyu locks herself out of the apartment.
Ganyu mentally curses herself, considers the benefits of calling a locksmith, and only then remembers she can call Keqing to the rescue.
She hesitates before hitting the call button. If Ganyu had any idea when Keqing was coming home, she could wait it out, but Ganyu doesn’t, because they don’t communicate enough to know each other’s schedules.
“Hey,” Ganyu says the second it picks up. “This is Ganyu.”
The line is silent for a good five seconds before Keqing speaks up. “Hey.”
Ganyu bites her lip and gestures back at the neighbor waving at her. “I—I just wanted to ask when you were getting home? I kind of locked myself out.”
“Kind of?” Keqing drawls. Ganyu doesn’t particularly appreciate her mocking tone, but she presses her lips together and keeps her mouth shut. “I have class until six.”
“Oh,” Ganyu sighs. Serves Ganyu right for forgetting her keys. “Okay.”
“But I have a break at two. I can drive back and forth.”
“You don’t have to,” Ganyu says quickly. She looks at her watch and winces. “I’ll just wait.”
“You’re not going to stay outside for four hours. That’s stupid.”
“I don’t mind.” A lie, of course, but Ganyu wants to owe Keqing almost as much as she wants to stand in the cold for four hours, which is not at all.
Keqing clicks her tongue. “I don’t mind driving back.”
They both stay quiet in what Ganyu thinks is the long-distance version of a game of chicken, and then Ganyu wields with a sigh. “Okay. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” Keqing says dismissively, and hangs up.
☽☽☽
The second time Ganyu has a real conversation with Keqing is only a few days later.
Ganyu is taking leftovers out of the fridge when Keqing glances at the day old pizza, wrinkles her nose in obvious distaste, and pointedly opens the cupboard.
“I’m making dinner,” Keqing announces.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a second,” Ganyu says.
Keqing doesn't look at her. “I’m making enough for two.”
Ganyu stills with her plate halfway to the microwave. “Are you sure?” She asks after a beat.
Keqing shrugs but doesn't answer.
It's… nice. Ganyu would have thought spending time with Keqing would be painfully awkward, but the silence is strangely comfortable. Ganyu watches Keqing as she moves around the kitchen, neat and assured. It's a rather stark contrast to Ganyu’s messier, clumsier style.
And, as it turns out, Keqing is a really good cook.
“How was your day?” Keqing mumbles between two bites.
Ganyu stills in surprise. Cooking for her is one thing, but Ganyu didn't expect Keqing to want to make small talk.
“It was good,” Ganyu responds. It kind of sounds like a question. She adds belatedly, “How was yours?”
“It was okay,” Keqing says. “I was supposed to study all day, but my friend Yanfei wanted to visit this new café.”
Ganyu chokes on an egg roll. “Wait—Did you just say Yanfei?”
There isn't only one Yanfei in Liyue. Ganyu knows that. There is no way—
“You know Yanfei?” Keqing peers at her. “Hu Tao’s girlfriend?”
Fuck.
“Yes,” Ganyu says, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Hu Tao is one of my best friends.”
“Yanfei is one of mine,” Keqing says. She's looking at her curiously, like she's trying to puzzle something out. “Strange that she never mentioned it.”
“You talk about me to your friends?” Ganyu asks innocently.
She doesn't think she imagines the slight flush on Keqing’s cheeks. “To Yanfei, a few times. I just refer to you as my roommate, though. I don't think I've ever mentioned your name.”
Ganyu almost wants to laugh. “Small world,” she says, and Keqing nods along distractedly.
Oh, Hu Tao is going to love this.
☽☽☽
There are few things Ganyu hates more than being sick.
Ganyu sneezes into a tissue for the fifth time and leans back on the bed. This is a really bad time to catch a cold, but Ganyu figures these things don't take into consideration such matters as Ganyu having an exam in two days and having to—
A knock on the door snaps Ganyu out of her thoughts.
It can only be one person, but Ganyu’s “Keqing?” still comes out sounding like a question.
“Can I come in?” Keqing’s voice comes through the door.
Ganyu makes a muted sound of assent.
Keqing comes through the door carrying a tray. There's a bowl of chicken noodle soup, still steaming, a plate of steamed buns and—is that Ganyu’s favorite Qingxin tea?
Ganyu is left speechless for a minute, which gives Keqing time to put down the tray on her nightstand without meeting Ganyu’s gaze.
“I haven't seen you eat at all today,” Keqing finally says, clearing her throat. She still doesn't look directly at Ganyu. “Thought you could use some food. And tea.”
“Thank you,” Ganyu says after a beat, feeling her cheeks warm up. It's only embarrassment because of her belated response. Nothing to do with Keqing cooking for her and making her favorite tea, of course. “Thank you, Keqing, really. I appreciate it.”
“Don't mention it,” Keqing says awkwardly. Ganyu gets a vague sense of déjà-vu.
“How are you feeling?” Keqing asks. She's finally looking at Ganyu. She has really pretty eyes, Ganyu notices. She blames that thought on the fever.
“Slightly better than this morning, but not by much. I hate being sick,” Ganyu confesses in a quiet voice.
Keqing doesn't say anything.
After a minute, she reaches out a hand.
And pushes Ganyu’s hair out of her face.
She drops her hand immediately, as if just realizing what she did, but it does nothing to get Ganyu’s stupid heart to beat a little slower. Ganyu can't read the expression on her face at all.
“You're still running hot,” Keqing says. She's avoiding Ganyu’s gaze again, and Ganyu kind of wants her to look at her. “You should rest. I'll just go.”
Keqing gets up to leave, and Ganyu watches her go without a word.
☽☽☽
Ganyu knew saying yes was a bad idea.
But admittedly, Ganyu was weak to Hu Tao’s puppy eyes. Ganyu should've been angry at Hu Tao for setting her up on a date without asking her in the first place—but well. Hu Tao meant well, and maybe Ganyu had complained about being lonely a few times while she was drunk. And Hu Tao swore she could vouch for Ayaka, that she was a great girl, and that she and Ganyu would get along really well.
But Ganyu's heart wasn't in it.
Ayaka must have been able to tell rather early into their date, because she had politely kept the conversation going before claiming her brother had texted her and that she needed to leave. She and Ganyu both knew it wasn't true, but it was her way of letting Ganyu down easy, and Ganyu appreciated it.
At least Hu Tao couldn't fault Ganyu for not going, and it's not like she could tell Ganyu was hardly trying.
The lights are on when Ganyu unlocks the front door. It's a Sunday, and Keqing isn't much of an outgoing person, but Ganyu is still surprised to see her home so early.
A pink ponytail and green eyes greet her when she enters the living room.
“Ganyu! It's been a while,” Yanfei says. Keqing is sprawled on the couch behind her. She doesn't greet Ganyu, barely seems to register her presence.
“Hu Tao told me you were on a date. How did it go?”
“Not very well,” Ganyu says, biting back a wince. For some reason, she doesn't really want to have that conversation in front of Keqing. “She was nice, but we didn't really click like that.”
“That's a shame,” Yanfei pouts. “I know Ayaka, she's pretty great. Oh well. Wanna join us? We were just about to watch Rex Lapis’ new movie. It took me a while to convince Keqing to watch it.”
“Rex Lapis is overrated,” Keqing mumbles from the couch, barely audible. She has her arm over her face, and Ganyu can't see her expression. She wonders—no. Ganyu puts an instant stop to that thought.
“Fine, you don't like him. But Alatus is also in this movie. You like him, don't you?”
Keqing grumbles in response.
Yanfei rolls her eyes and smiles at Ganyu. “So, wanna have a movie night?”
Ganyu is tired, and she wants nothing more than to take a hot shower and go to sleep, but, as her gaze slides to Keqing, she finds herself saying yes anyway.
And if she wakes up on the couch two hours later with her head on Keqing’s shoulder, well, it's too dark for anyone to see how red her face is, or notice how long she takes before getting up.
☽☽☽
Of course there would be a blackout the one time Ganyu attempts to bake.
“I can't believe it,” Ganyu groans to Hu Tao on the phone. She peers into the oven and at her cornbread buns mournfully. “They're ruined.”
“Just leave them in and hope the power comes back,” Hu Tao pipes up.
“With my luck, I doubt it,” Ganyu sighs. Just as she debates whether to leave the oven on in case the power does come back soon, she hears a door open in the hallway.
“I’ll hang up to save my battery,” Ganyu mutters into the phone. “I'll text you.”
“Okay. Good luck with your buns,” Hu Tao chuckles. Ganyu doesn't feel nearly as amused.
Keqing walks into the kitchen just as Ganyu ends the call, using her phone as a flashlight. “Were you baking?” she asks incredulously, the first words she's spoken to Ganyu since this morning, and Ganyu feels vaguely insulted.
“I can bake,” Ganyu says a bit defensively. Which isn't a complete lie; she's baked maybe five times in her life, and whatever she’s made turned out decent at least three times out of those five. “There's a blackout.”
“I can see that,” Keqing says with a yawn. It's too dark to see her face, but Ganyu noticed the dark rings under her eyes this morning. They match the dark circles under Ganyu’s own purple eyes. “What were you making?”
“Honey cornbread buns,” Ganyu says, feeling a little self-conscious. She wasn't planning on making Keqing taste her cornbread buns or even tell her about it, but now it would seem impolite not to do so.
Keqing hums and sits on one of the chairs. The darkness is weirdly comforting; Ganyu always feels a little self-conscious under Keqing’s intense gaze, and the fact Keqing can't see her makes her feel a little bolder, like she doesn't have to worry as much about what her expressions reveal.
They sit like that for a while, the occasional beeping from the oven and the city traffic sounds outside their window the only things troubling the silence around them. Ganyu leans against the counter and closes her eyes for a peaceful few moments.
“You know,” Keqing starts after a long time. She breaks off, and Ganyu shoots her a curious look in the dark. “I never really wanted to have a roommate.”
Ganyu lets out a sharp exhale.
“...Okay,” Ganyu says in a measured voice. She tries to push down the panic rising in her chest. Is this Keqing telling her she wants to move out? Worse, is this Keqing confessing that she can't stand living with Ganyu and that Ganyu proved her right?
Ganyu doesn't know when Keqing’s opinion started mattering this much to her, but Ganyu is pretty sure that would break her heart.
“I was on the phone with my mother earlier,” Keqing explains. Her voice is level, but there's an undercurrent of something that Ganyu desperately tries and fails to make out. “Every time she calls she asks me about my roommate situation. She was against me getting a roommate as well. Said I’m too pig-headed to get along with anyone,” Keqing finishes with a breathless chuckle.
Ganyu still waits for the other shoe to drop, her heart in her throat.
“I didn't really have that much hope either, at first. But,” Keqing takes a sharp breath, “I… I like living with you. I know this is random, but—I realized I never told you that. And it might seem like I don't care, or like I’m annoyed easily sometimes, but—I guess what I mean is—I really appreciate you, Ganyu.”
Ganyu’s eyes widen and her heart threatens to beat out of her chest.
She's too flabbergasted to notice that Keqing started stammering, which is entirely uncharacteristic, and it's too dark for her to notice Keqing burying her face in her hands, but that doesn't matter, because what comes out of her mouth before she can stop it is—“Keqing, I think I like you.”
Oh no.
The following seconds are the most harrowing few seconds of Ganyu’s life.
And then Keqing says, voice uncharacteristically small, “Like… me?”
Ganyu doesn't know if she's asking for clarification about the liking or about the me part. Ganyu is waiting for the floor of their apartment to open up and swallow her whole and never let her see the light of day again—
“Ganyu,” Keqing says, suddenly impossibly close, and only then does Ganyu realize Keqing got up from her chair and walked over to the counter where Ganyu is (barely) standing. “What do you mean?”
And Ganyu—for once, Ganyu lets her instincts take over and says fuck it.
She surges forward and captures Keqing’s lips with her own.
It's a slow kiss; not the fast or aggressive type. They both take their time, patient and unhurried. Keqing tastes like lavender lip balm, and the oolong milk tea she drank earlier, and home.
When they break apart, both breathless, Keqing says in a whisper, “I wish I could see you.”
“You make it sound so dramatic,” Ganyu half-laughs, half-shrieks. She's not used to not having a tight grip on her emotions, and right now she feels like she could fly.
“You just ruined the mood,” Keqing grumbles, but her voice is light, and she reaches to tuck one of Ganyu’s long strands behind her ear. Ganyu feels like melting. “But I'll forgive you, because I really thought I’d have to be the first to kiss you.”
“This—you’ve thought about this?” Ganyu asks quietly, like she's afraid to speak it too loud. The darkness around them makes this moment feel even more unreal.
“A lot,” Keqing admits. Ganyu’s breath hitches. “Don't tell me you haven't.”
“I—I don't know,” Ganyu mumbles, her usual shyness slowly creeping back in. “I wouldn't say I haven't.”
“So you did,” Keqing says, and Ganyu can hear the grin in her voice. “I’m not going to ask for how long because I think you might combust.”
“Don't,” Ganyu warns. God, she doesn't think her face has ever felt this warm.
“How about we go back to—what we were doing?” Keqing asks, all coy and flirty, but Ganyu hears the tentativeness and vulnerability in her voice, and, God—Ganyu might fall in love with her right this second, if she hasn't already.
Which, really, might have been an inevitability the first time Keqing walked through her door.
“Let's do that,” Ganyu mutters back with a little smile, pressing her lips against Keqing’s.