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Carmilla is more than a little uninhibited by the time Laura arrives at the party, and she instantly regrets the alcohol that she had downed earlier in the evening. She is not in the right state of mind to deal with her ex right now. To prevent herself from doing something stupid, she pushes her way further into the crowd, until she is encompassed in all directions by the mass of people in the room, smelling like sweat and beer and warm blood. God, she can almost feel the heartbeats pumping blood through the veins of those around her -- or maybe that’s just the pounding of her head.
Fuck regretting alcohol. She needs another drink. Lifting her cup to her mouth, she makes a face at the lipstick marks around the plastic rim, and quickly gulps down a fair amount.
Trust Laura to invade her life so completely that she was inescapable, even in the very last place that Carmilla had expected to run into her. One of the only reasons that she had even chose this particular party was because it was the most un-Laura-like place that Carmilla could find. Why would Laura be at a cheesy frat party? It’s low, even for Carmilla’s standards.
Then she sees LaFontaine and Lola Perry, and resists a groan. Of course. They’d have brought Laura with them, thinking that it would be good to get her away from her videos. At one point, Carmilla might have agreed with them. Now… Laura can keep making her videos for all she cares.
Carmilla very pointedly does not think about how much, even now, she would like to find her way over to Laura and crowd her into the wall, feel the warmth of her skin under Carmilla’s fingertips. She does not think about sliding her hands against the smooth fabric of her dress. She does not think about her lipstick smearing against Laura’s lips. She does not even come a little bit close to think about what it would feel like to pull her away from the party, nothing on her mind but the quickest way to make it to whatever bed is nearest.
Instead, she sets her eyes on the door. It is not running away from her problems, she tells herself. It’s simply doing herself a favour by going out and finding a better place to spend her night. It’s Christmas break -- parties are springing up everywhere, and she’s going to take advantage of that as best she can.
She almost makes it to the door. Honestly, she doesn’t know how she allows herself to stop. But
she does. She sees Laura, again, this time standing underneath a string of Christmas lights, the warm glow of the bulbs casting soft shadows across her face.
Carmilla can’t resist stopping. She tells herself that she’ll leave in a moment. Something in her chest tightens, and she suddenly can’t remember why she had ever broke things off.
Then Laura turns, and their eyes catch.
Carmilla looks away instantly, before she can even register Laura’s expression of shock. Elbowing her way out of the crowd with a renewed enthusiasm, Carmilla makes it to the exit and steps outside, relief flooding her when the door clicks shut behind her. She tosses her cup on the ground -- someone will clean it up by tomorrow, she’s sure.
She is halfway down the path to the sidewalk, kicking at the beginnings of snow, when she hears a noise from behind her. Dreading turning around, Carmilla determinedly keeps her eyes set on the path in front of her. Her pace picks up.
“Carmilla.”
It’s not a shout, not even a raised voice, but Carmilla still winces. She’s not used to hearing Laura say her name like that. The warmth that she had become so accustomed to was dropped, replaced by a dispassionate tone. Carmilla shivers, knowing that she can’t avoid this any longer.
She turns.
“Laura,” she says, equally impassive.
They stare at each other. Carmilla, always so adept at hiding her deepest emotions, feels the beginnings of heartache clutching at her. How terrible is this, she thinks, that she can look directly at the girl who had brought her so much happiness and sense only emptiness.
Then Laura shifts, and before Carmilla’s eyes, her cool demeanor diminishes. She becomes the very reflection of all the longing that Carmilla has buried deep within herself, not allowing herself to adknowledge. Unable to help it, Carmilla takes a step towards her.
“How…” Laura begins, wrapping her arms around herself and looking down. “How have you been?”
Carmilla wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. She hates this, the small talk, but she can’t bring herself to walk away. “Fine. And you.”
Laura shrugs. “Fine.”
Carmilla waits a minute, and then manages to make herself turn away. “Merry Christmas, Laura.”
“Wait.” Footsteps. Laura appeared at Carmilla’s side, glancing at her and then looking away. Carmilla didn’t stop walking, but Laura kept pace. She seemed to be sorting out her thoughts.
Every minute that passed, Carmilla’s resolve was becoming less and less firm. She was all too aware of Laura beside her, so real and warm and gorgeous. By the time that Laura finally spoke, Carmilla’s intentions of leaving quickly had crumbled. She had never been able to resist the subtle way that Laura seemed to mesmerize her.
“Carm,” Laura began, and Carmilla’s heart thudded at the nickname, “I can’t do this. I need to know… do you really think this is it?”
Carmilla had no choice but to tell the truth. “I don’t know, Laura.”
“I don’t want it to be.”
It was simple, when she put it like that.
“Me, neither,” Carmilla told her. And it was true. If this was the end, though there were thousands of words that she could apply to the situation, the ones that stood out were not enough. She could not see an end to the time that she wanted to spend with Laura, and though their time together had recently been riddled with fights, she was willing to give anything for more time with Laura. A couple days, weeks, years -- anything.
Laura gave her a half-smile, and managed to move close enough to give her a kiss on the cheek. Then, she was gone, heading back towards the party. Carmilla turned around to watch her go, feeling something that she hadn’t felt recently. Hope.