Archive of Our Own ^beta

The girl is sitting under a tree at the playground and she's reading a heavy-looking book. Her dark fringe is falling on her eyes and she adjusts it with her free hand. You stumble on your feet when you approach her. She looks at you with her dark brown eyes as you ramble about being new in town and your cheeks become redder every second, so you just hand her the prettiest cupcake from your tray in hope she wouldn't laugh at you.

She calls you "the cupcake girl" ever since.

(You don't really mind.)

////

Carmilla isn't the nicest or kindest person on Earth, but she's nice and kind enough for you.

She's your first friend in this new neighbourhood full of similar houses with white fences and red roofs. You learn that her favourite color is dark blue, almost black, like the ocean during a storm and her favourite animals are big cats, especially panthers. You tell her about your favourite color, yellow like marigolds, and your favourite animal - dogs. She says nothing, just nods.

She doesn't really talk much, not at first. Little by little, she opens up and you discover how amazing her imagination is. You're laying on a blanket in the middle of the garden behind your house and she tells you stories about dragons living in the sky. She points at the stars and constellations, but you're too busy looking at her. You see how her eyes shine in dim light, but you turn away when she notices you're staring.

"Are you listening to me, Cupcake?"

"My name is Laura," you remind her.

"Cupcake fits you better."

You snort and she laughs softly.

(You hope you'll hear that more often.)

////

You're ten years old and you can't imagine your life without Carmilla by your side. You spend most of your free time riding around the neighbourhood on your bikes, on the rocky beach just outside the town or in the treehouse your father built for you. You hang up pictures of you and Carmilla on the walls, along with some silly posters of cats. Your mother even helped you with fixing a huge star map on the ceiling.

For your birthday your grandma got you your first real camera and you insist on taking photos of every pretty thing you see. Which is mostly Carmilla, you've got to admit. She doesn't really know about it, because you try to take photos when she's not looking. (And if she does know, she doesn't say anything.) In result you've got loads of pictures of her just reading books in random places or sitting on a tree branch or on a rock at the beach.

You still watch stars with her. Now she doesn't tell you stories how she used to do, but rather tries to teach you names of the constellations. You're a good student and you quickly learn where Ursa Major and Cassiopeia are. Carmilla is proud of herself and you're happy.

Sometimes, you go to the rocky beach just outside of town where you explore the coastline. Your father always reminds you not to come near the cliffs and you always promise you won't. Instead, you stick to their foot. Carmilla says mermaids live in caves near by and you have no reason to not believe her. It's possible, after all.

"If we ever find a mermaid, we're going to be in the newspaper!" you exclaim and start taking more photos of boulders just in case one of them turns out to be a fantastic creature.

Sometimes, the thought of why you never visit Carmilla's home or why she's never really talking about her parents briefly crosses your mind.

(You try not to worry too much about that.)

////

You meet Carmilla's mother when you're eleven. There's a big community event on the beach for everyone and you're there early, because your mother helps with preparing everything whlie your father and some other men try to set a pile of logs on fire.

Carmilla's mother is tall and intimidating. Her lips are a thin, pale line and her hair is set in a tight bun. Her eyes look like they could suck your soul. She and Carmilla look almost nothing alike and you'd never say they're related.

She's holding Carmilla's hand maybe a bit too hard. You notice how tense Carmilla is when you run to her, cheerful and smiling, and hug her tightly. Suddenly she turns still, clenching her jaw. You decide to ask her about that later. (You don't.)

A while later, when you go to play away from the adults, Carmilla looks miserable.

"What's wrong?" you ask, but she doesn't answer. She stares at the ground. You put your hand on her shoulder, gently, not wanting to scare her away, but rather to assure her that you're here if she needs you. She doesn't raise her sight, but now you can see a small smile playing on her lips. You take it as a good sign.

"Do you want to play pirates now? Or look for mermaids?" you suggest with hope in your voice.

"Pirates," she says and you both race to the decayed tree where you keep your wooden swords. Your father would be so mad if he saw you playing with something potentially dangerous, so you stay away from the bonfire.

You spend whole afternoon running around, climbing trees, shouting and fighting imaginary zombie pirates. You want to cheer Carmilla up, so you let her be the captain all evening, while you're first mate. At the end, you're both sitting on a branch, your feet dangling in the air, ocean waves crashing in front of you.

"Storm's coming," says Carmilla. You look at her, puzzled.

"How do you know? There's no clouds."

She shrugs. "I can feel it, Cupcake. Trust me."

Soon she decides it's time to come back, because it's getting colder. Raised voices reach your ears before you approach the bonfire. You notice Carmilla is slowing down, almost stopping.

"Carm?" Your voice is steady, but you're worried. She looks at you and you're not sure if you're imagining the hurt in her dark, soft eyes.

"It-it's fine, Cupcake. Let's go."

When you show up, you can feel the tension between the adults. Your mother is holding your father's arm, as if she's trying to stop him from something. Carmilla's mother looks like she's ready to burn everything down and you find yourself ready to fight or flight any given moment.

"There you are, you unmanageable child! What have I told you about walking away?" she says, her raised voice sharp like shattered glass. Carmilla stares at the sand. You instinctively want to shield her, sway from this woman.

"I'm sorry, Maman," Carmilla whispers and you've never seen her so vulnerable. She keeps her head low as she walks toward her mother.

As they both walk away, your father puts his huge, calloused hand on your small shoulder. Carmilla turns her head. You wave to her. She only smiles a little.

(Maybe that was the storm she was thinking about.)

////

When you're thirteen, you visit her house for the first time. It's full of antique furniture and you're afraid you might break something by accident. There are almost none family photos, totally not like at your home.

You look around in awe, wide-eyed. Carmilla chuckles.

"Come on, Cupcake, we need to make dinner."

She leads you to the kitchen, which is a weird mix of modern and old-fashioned, a contrast between dark, wooden cupboards and table and a chromed fridge.

"So, where's your mom?" you ask, jumping on the countertop. Carmilla shrugs.

"She went to some kind of training course or whatever," she says, putting out plates and cutlery. "For her job. She does that quite often, a true buisnesswoman."

"And left you all alone?"

"She calls me every two hours," Carmilla admits. You're impressed and a bit jelaous, because she's way more self-reliant than you. She prepares a meal for two of you all by herself. It's nothing fancy, just penne with some sauce and chicken, but it tastes so good, because she made it. (You take a mental note to ask your mom to teach you how to cook.)

You eat dinner on this terribly expensive couch and Carmilla has to assure you there's no way you could possibly destroy it.

"Do you plan to spill blood on it or something, Cupcake?" she half-laughs. And that's how you end up sitting on the couch worth probably more than your father's car, with a plate full of pasta and your best friend by your side, watching Doctor Who. Carmilla keeps making those sarcastic comments you hate and love at the same time and you wonder if that's how happiness feels like.

After you've eaten everything, Carmilla collects the plates and heads to the kitchen. You want to help her (just as your parents have taught you), but she shakes her head.

"No need to worry, Cupcake, I can manage, just wait for me" she says and you find yourself left alone in the living room.

And you know that you shouldn't touch anything and patiently wait for Carmilla to come back soon but you can't help your silly, investigative, curious mind, so you decide to maybe look around a little bit.

The room is dark, regardless of the giant window. The furniture, mostly dark brown and black, doesn't help with lighting the place up. There's so little colour, only a little bit of dark red and white in the carpet's pattern and some books on the bookshelf. Then you spot the only picture in the room.

It looks more like a painting of some sort than those funny, little photos that are hanging on your living room's walls. In that picture you see Carmilla's mother, wearing a dress, uptight as always. Next to her stands a tall, raven-haired man in a suit and you assume it must be Carmilla's father. (You wonder what happened to him.) There are also three children - a dark-skinned teenaged girl, wearing all black, standing next to Mr. Karnstien, a scrawny, little boy with a mischievous smile, looking like an exact copy of his father, and... Carmilla.

She's wearing a beautiful gown and now you know this picture must have been taken quite some time ago, because Carmilla here looks like she's ten at most. Her jet black curls are framing her pale face. She looks uncomfortable, her face is slightly drawn, as if she wished she was anywhere but there. You notice her mother's hand on her arm and it suddenly becomes very clear why this little girl looks so uneasy. Even though she still resembles a princess of some sort.

"Found something interesting, Cupcake?" You jump when you hear Carmilla's voice right behind you. Your cheeks start to burn as if you were caught doing something wrong.

She moves closer, now standing right next to you. Her eyes are fixed on the picture.

"My mother decided we needed to get that done," she says, somewhat to herself. You shift awkwardly. "'We need to look like a family', she said. She always says that." Carmilla stops for a moment and you don't say anything. You don't want to push her. If she wants to tell you something, she will.

"I didn't want to , as you can see. But you know how it is." She sighs. You carefully put your hand on her shoulder, just like your father does when you're upset. She tenses under your touch for a second, until she remembers it's you, not her mother. She turns her head to you.

"It's fine, Cupcake. Just..." Her voice breaks a little. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes hard. Another sigh. "We're all adopted, you know? Mattie, Will and I - all three of us. I don't why our parents decided to adopt, they never told us. They were strict, but loving, in their own way. We had to live up to certain expectations. When we did, everything was alright. But I didn't, you know?" A dry, ironic laughter escapes her mouth. "I was a disobedient child, not a one my mother would like to have. I used to un away or scrap my knees or bring home stray pets and she didn't like it. Father didn't mind, but he had little say. And then he died, short after this photo was taken. Car accident."

"Carm..." you start, but you don't know what to say next. She shrugs and continues, as if she didn't hear you:

"Mattie went to a buisness school and soon she'll be earning a lot of money, travelling, meeting new people. A quite happy life, if you ask me. And William is in a private school for boys. I haven't seen him in ages." She smiles to her memories. "And I'm here, because I was a bad child." She turns her head to you. "At least I've got you, right, Cupcake?"

You nod and force a smile. "Of course. I'm always here for you."

Suddenly she hugs you so tight you almost can't breathe.

(You wonder if she knows that you really meant it.)

////

You're sitting on the beach, wrapped in a towel. Carmilla is sitting beside you. Water from her hair is dripping on your intertwined hands. The sun is setting and everything is saturated in orange and golden sun rays. Carmilla is watching the ocean and you are watching her, just like it happened so many times before.

You're fourteen and somehow everything has suddenly became difficult. You're now in high school and though you still have some time to figure it out, you don't know what do you want to do in your life. You thought about becoming an investigative journalist - finally using your creativitiy and curiosity to help people seems nice.

When you asked Carmilla about her plans, she just laughed.

"I just want to sleep all day, Cupcake," she said]. "And hang out with you."

But she does have a plan, soft of. She wants to become a famous artist. You've seen her paintings and drawings and they're great, as far as you can tell.

You feel weird when you say her name or look at her, like there's a bunch of butterflies stuck in your stomach. You feel free and peaceful when you're with her, like you've never felt before.

She sighs quietly and speaks, not looking away from the ocean.

"Laura." (Your name sounds so sweet when she says it and it sends shivers down your spine.)

"Yeah?"

"Let's run away."

You don't say anything for a little while, so she turns her head and looks you in the eye.

"Let's leave," she repeats, hope in voice is almost painful.

"Carm, we can't. We- we have school and we have no money and our parents and- and-" You know you're rambling, but you can't help it. The hurt in her eyes is so visible. She squeezes your hand.

"Sure, Cupcake. Forget I asked."

You sit in silence, watching the waves crush against the shore, but it's not even as half that comfortalble as just a while ago.

When you're about to head back home, she hugs you goodbye, her hair still smells like ocean and sand and you swear your heart skips a beat.

Later that night, you're still thinking about what she said on the beach.

(You hope she didn't mean it.)

////

You're sixteen and laying on the bed in Carmilla's bedroom. She's lounging on her armchair, reading a book by some philosopher you don't recognize. You're kind of bored, so you start look around. You've been there a few times already, always when Carmilla's mother was away, but you're still amazed how this room, with its black and white decor, contrasts with yours, full of color, light and pictures.

You look at the ceiling. It's dark blue, almost black, filled with luminescent constellations. One day Carm has told you that those are exactl the same stars you could see above the house on 22nd March. She has taught you to tell apart all of them.

"Carm..."  you whine. She looks away from her book.

"Yes, Cupcake?"

"I'm bored."

"I told you to bring a book or a homework to do, didn't I?" she says and returns to her reading.

You groan and pull your phone out of your pocket. After a while you whine again, now a bit louder. No reaction. You look at Carmilla, who ignores you easily.

"Carm..." you start. You notice she looks at you, but quickly returns to her book.

"Carm, what is this constellation's name?" You point your finger somewhere above you.

"You know that, Cutie." (Your stomach backflips.) This time she doesn't even look at you. You pout a little.

"I forgot."

"You didn't," she says, but she puts her book down and lies beside you. Her bed is wide enough for both of you, given how small you are, but she still lies as close as possible. You hope she doesn't notice your heart stopped for a while.

"That's Taurus, Cupcake" she sighs, following your line of sight.

"And that?" You point to the other side of the room, at Aquila.

"You know," she sighs. You turn to her and, oh, wow, she's close. Really close. You feel your cheeks becoming red. Carmilla stares into your eyes and she's oh so beautiful. Butterflies in your stomach start fluttering and you wish they didn't, because it causes your heart to beat faster and that's certainly not what you need right now.

She moves closer. You slowly close your eyes and--

Sudden hevay metal music buzzes and you almost have a heart attack. She jumps up and runs to her desk. She picks up her phone.

"Yes, Maman?" Her voice is shaking a bit, so she coughs. "No, Maman, I'm fine, just a little dry-throated."

You sit up and cross your legs. You're embarrased, you don't know what you expected.

(You do know, but you would rather not think about it.)

////

You've been wondering what exactly is going on with Carmilla's family since you've found that photo a few years ago. You weren't brave enough to ask, though, so you were waiting patiently until she tells you herself.

You're seventeen when she does.

You're watching the latest episode of Doctor Who with your mother, curled up next to her on the couch in the living room. The plate, just moments ago full of cookies, is now empty. Rain is tapping at the window and everything is peaceful.

Suddenly you hear a door bell ringing. You briefly wonder who that might be, so late on Saturday evening. Your father opens the door and apparently talks with someone for a moment, because you can hear hushed voices from the hallway. You think you can distinguish your name. Before you know, he calls you.

"Laura, honey, can you please come for a second?"

A frown forms on your face. That's totally weird, you didn't expect anyone to come over.

Carmilla is standing outside, drenched, in the pouring rain. You barely recognize her in the dark. She keeps her head down, but you don't know why. You feel a lump in your throat, unable to say anything.

"Carm?" you splutter finally. "Oh my god, what happened?"

You grab her hand and pull her inside. Her hand is icy-cold. She stumbles on the doorstep. (You wonder how long she's been standing outside.)

"I'm gonna go and, um, yeah..." Your father stumbles on the words as he backs to the kitchen, but you barely notice. All your attention is now consumed by Carmilla, who is standing in the middle of the hallway, water from her hair dripping on the floor, her head still low. She's so silent it scares you.

You lead her upstairs, to the bathroom.

"Please, wait a second, I'm just gonna grab a t-shirt for you and--" You stop mid-sentence, because she grabs your hand.

"Laura..." Her voice is shaking, as if she's crying and the realization of how possible it is hits you like a train, because you wouldn't be able to tell her tears and the rain apart anyway. "Laura," she repeats, "please..."

You have no idea what to do, so you quickly wrap your hands around her, not paying attention to the fact that she's soaked in ice-cold water. She tenses up at first, but you don't let go and soon she relaxes. She's shaking, you're not sure if she's cold or crying until you hear her sob. You put your hand at the small of her back and you stay that way until she calms down.

You find a t-shirt you don't use anymore and a pair of sweatpants and you give them to Carmilla when she cames out of the bathroom. She sits next to you on your bed and she smells like your shampoo. A small flashback of all those time you used to have a slumber party just for the two of you crosses your mind.

Your father brings you hot cocoa and asks if everything is alright and you nod, though you glance worriedly at Carmilla. After he leaves, you can hear him talking with your mother downstairs, but you don't care about that now. Your attention is focused on Carm.

You sit in silence, not wanting to push Carmilla to talk, so you just sip the cocoa. Her eyes are a bit red from crying.

When you're almost done with your mug, she clears her throat.

"I'm sorry for that intrusion," she starts and you move closer, putting your hand on her arm. "I didn't know what to do."

"No, Carm, it's fine, really." You take her now empty mug and put it on the desk. She sniffs.

"I- I just-" She starts to stutter. You recognize it. That's how Carm talks when something connected with her mother happens. Something bad, usually. You almost can feel the cold chill running down your spine.

"Carm," you start, your voice shaking slightly, "I hate to push you, but what happened?"

She gulps. Tears are again in her eyes. That's no good.

"My- my mother. She-," Carmilla takes a shaky breath. Tears are forming in her eyes. She looks at you, all hurt and seeking an anchor.

And then she tells you about how abusive has her mother been through all those years. At first you can't believe her, but then you connect the dots and you're angry. Angry at Mrs. Karnstein for hurting Carmilla. Angry at Carmilla for not telling you sooner. Angry at yourself for not noticing earlier.

By the end of the story, she's weirdly calm and you're hugging her tightly. You can feel her tears that soaked into your t-shirt dry up and for a second you think you might cry too.

"This night was the worst so far and... A-and I ran," her voice is muffled by the fabric of your shirt. "I- I didn't know what to do. I came here and stood outside. I was afraid that your parents'll tell me to go back home."

"It's okay, Carm. You can stay for a day or two if you want." She's stayed so many times now, one more won't make a difference. You stroke her back gently, feeling her spine and tense muscles under the fabric of the well-worn t-shirt. You can feel her relax under your touch and you start to untangle your arms, but she stops you.

"Laura..." she whispers and looks at you, somehow unsure. Her hair is a bit messy, her eyes are still slightly red from crying, she looks somehow beautiful. Butterflies in your stomach start to flap their wings.

And then she leans and kisses you.