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Hadley McGucket swore to herself as she searched for her keys that had somehow found their way to the bottom of her bag amongst her notebooks, loose pens, and stray math worksheets. She struggled to balance her textbooks in the crook of her other arm, and mentally cursed her roommate. When she left for class that morning, Farrah was still asleep, snoring away, so Hadley had locked the door behind her. Farrah must have gone out herself, as the door was locked again and nobody came to open it when she had rattled at the doorknob hopefully.
Eventually, she felt something metal stab into her hand and she pulled her keys out with triumphant relish. Bursting into the room, she dropped her bag immediately at her feet and shoved her heavy textbooks on her desk before she flopped face first onto her bed, not even having bothered to remove her shoes.
She breathed in. Hadley liked to let the day wash over her, sometimes. She liked to have a reset before turning her brain on again. Soon, she planned on getting up, changing out of her jeans, and finishing some coursework. She planned on asking Farrah if she wanted to get takeout again, maybe even convincing her to have a few beers. Soon, but not immediately. She just needed a moment of silence, alone, to reset.
At least, she thought she was alone.
After a beat, a soft, wounded noise sounded through the room - quiet enough that Hadley thought it could be from outside, but loud enough that it made her sit up.
She twisted herself around on the bed and craned her neck to look in the direction where the sound had come from, but froze at the sight.
“Farrah?” The girl in question looked up from where she had tucked herself between the end of her bed and their shared dresser. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, her glasses absent. Mousy strands of hair had escaped from her messy ponytail, as if she had been pulling nervously at it. Her knees were pulled up to her chest; one hand clutched desperately at the fabric of her tartan pyjama pants whilst the other was plastered over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet. Hadley felt something heavy settle in her stomach.
“How in the hell did I miss ya down there?” she muttered, more to herself than to Farrah, before she slowly rose from the bed and sat down on the floor facing her girlfriend. “You feelin’ chatty?”
Farrah opened her mouth before closing it with a frown. Frustratedly, she shook her head and looked away from Hadley.
“Hey, none of that. Y’know I don’t mind none.” Hadley shuffled closer. “Y’alright with touch?”
Biting her lip thoughtfully, Farrah nodded, and Hadley smiled at the confirmation before she grabbed onto Farrah’s calves and pulled her unceremoniously onto her lap. Farrah let out a shocked yelp, but after a bit of wiggling she made herself comfortable within Hadley’s arms. With a hum, Farrah buried her face into Hadley’s bony shoulder and wrapped two soft arms around a wiry torso. In return, Hadley rested her chin on top of Farrah's head and breathed in the scent of apple shampoo. She tangled her own arms around Farrah’s body, letting her hands rub soothing patterns on the other girl’s back. When Farrah let out a shaky breath and buried her face further into Hadley’s shirt, Hadley began to sway gently.
“It’s alright, I got ya,” she whispered platitudes into Farrah’s hair. She could feel her t-shirt growing damp underneath where Farrah was gasping muffled sobs into it, but she didn’t care one bit. It always made Hadley’s heart ache a bit, however, at how quiet Farrah was when she was upset, as if her feelings were an inconvenience to those around her. “That’s it, you let it out, you’re alright.”
After a considerable amount of time, Farrah’s breathing evened out and she pulled back slightly to rub a hand roughly across her face.
“Sorry,” Farrah’s voice was almost imperceptible as she apologised. Hadley tutted.
“Now what have you got t’be sorry about?” She squeezed her arms around the other girl tighter, laughing when Farrah let out a little oof! sound. “You’re allowed off-days, y’know.”
Farrah gave a hum in response - not necessarily in agreement, but more as an acknowledgement that Hadley had said something.
“Listen - why don’t you change into something comfy whilst I pop to the kitchen and make us some cocoa, and when I get back we can curl up with the latest issue of National Geographic, yeah?”
Farrah gave a watery smile before nodding, and with a bit of effort the two girls stood up. Hadley gave her another squeeze and a kiss on her forehead before releasing her, heading to the kitchen with a soft smile. The smile drops, however, as soon as she’s out the bedroom door. With a sigh, she runs a hand through her hair anxiously. She’s no stranger to her girlfriend feeling like this - non-verbal and shaky, as if the world is out to get her - but it has been a while since the last time it happened. Anything could have triggered it - a phone call from her father (who Hadley privately thought was a domineering bully who only valued Farrah for her potential for monetary success, and not for the value of her heart), a comment from an ignorant student about her polydactyly, or simply bad weather - but the solution remained largely the same. Hot chocolate, peace and quiet, and comfort. Luckily for Farrah, Hadley was great at providing these things.
She grabbed two of their mugs (Farrah’s had the NASA logo printed across it, Hadley’s had ‘I HEART TENNESSEE’) and got out the ingredients needed. She was a big believer in proper hot chocolate, none of this instant rubbish, so started pouring a liberal dosage of milk into a saucepan with chunks of chocolate. The sweet smell filled the air, and Hadley hummed as she stirred. After some consideration, she added a dash of cinnamon before taking it off the heat and pouring it carefully into the two mugs. There wasn’t any cream or marshmallows in their poxy little college kitchen, but there was an unopened packet of Chips Ahoy! so Hadley grabbed those and stuck them in the crook of her arm, leaving her hands free to carry the mugs.
“Hey, Faz, can you open the door? My hands are full,” She waited outside their dorm room, and soon enough Farrah opened up the door, now wearing a worn, baggy Queen t-shirt, boxer shorts, and fuzzy pink socks. She had found her glasses and her mousy hair was now loose around her shoulders. “Thanks, doll.”
Farrah turned pink at the pet name, but stepped aside to let Hadley in and closed the door behind her. The two of them curled up in Hadley’s bed - Farrah’s was currently home to half her textbooks, it seemed - side by side, their legs tangled beneath the covers and mugs of cocoa on the bedside table.
Hadley opened up the packet of cookies and placed it on the bed in front of them with the copy of National Geographic she had got in the mail that week. Before she could go to turn the page, however, Farrah shifted so that her head was resting on Hadley’s chest and her arms were wrapped tight around Hadley’s slender form.
“Oh, baby,” Hadley says, and holds her tight. “You were feeling pretty bad, huh?”
Farrah doesn’t answer, just burrows her face deeper into Hadley’s sweater. Hadley brings a hand up to her girlfriend’s hair, combing slender fingers through the soft strands as she hummed gently.
“Is that Bowie you’re humming?” Farrah breaks the silence after a while, amusement evident in her voice.
“Naturally.”
“Of course.” Farrah sits up, grabbing her hot chocolate and drinking half of it in one go. “That’s really good. I think you’re wasted on science, McGucket. You should be a barista.”
Hadley smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hadley drinks her own drink at a much more sedate pace as Farrah splits a cookie and passes one half over, nibbling on her own portion.
A comfortable silence settles over them. The room smells of chocolate and Farrah’s apple shampoo, and Hadley buries her toes underneath Farrah’s thighs to keep them warm. She would quite like to stay here forever, she thinks - faraway from the hustle and bustle outside, free from any responsibilities, hidden from all the judgemental assholes who have something to say about them both. All her life, Hadley has been a laughing stock - a full head taller than her classmates, skinny as a beanpole with thick, round glasses, she never quite fit in with other kids. She found refuge in her books and mechanics, tinkering in her parents garage when other girls were going out on dates to the movies or going to parties. College was refreshing - Backupsmore was the furthest thing from pretentious, and she found that people responded well to her Southern friendliness and was, for the first time in her life, generally well-liked. There was the occasional instance, however, where she caught someone sneering at her thick accent, or doing a double-take at her height, or raising an eyebrow at her complete lack of interest in the male species, and she felt like that lonely little schoolgirl all over again.
With Farrah, all that melted away. Farrah was happy to listen to Hadley’s southern drawl endlessly. She would stand on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of Hadley’s nose. When Hadley got lost in her inventions, Farrah never teased, just asked her to explain what she was doing with a curious look on her face. It didn’t matter that Hadley was a dork, or a nerd, or uncool, because Farrah was all of those things too, and Farrah was amazing.
Farrah was someone Hadley could truly and completely be herself around. Farrah was safe.
“We were learning about birth defects in class,” Farrah breaks the silence, seemingly out of nowhere. “It’s stupid, but - the professor brought up polydactyly. Of course they did - and then of course, I was used as a sort of example, I suppose? A stupid thing, to be upset about really, but there was so much attention on me, and - and my father called this morning, so I was feeling a little…”
“On edge?” Hadley suggests, and Farrah hums in agreement.
“It’s not stupid, bubs. You’re a student here - not some, some specimen, for them all to examine! Anyone would feel uncomfortable in your place.”
Farrah gives a self-deprecating laugh.
“Perhaps. But not everybody would break down like a child afterwards.” Her knuckles turn white where they are gripped around her mug. Hadley sighs, internally. Farrah’s childhood autism diagnosis is a recurring point of contention between the two of them - On her worst days, Farrah, influenced by her father, believes her being autistic to be a blight to her reputation, bringing shame to her family. Alternatively, Hadley believes that to be an entire crock of shit. In her own time, Hadley has privately poured over psychology books, reading the DSM until her eyes ached. There was a hell of a lot of information - not all of it complementary, of course, but enough for Hadley to understand that Farrah’s beautiful, brilliant mind worked a little differently. And who the hell was Hadley to judge?
“You’re not a child,” Hadley says, pulling the other girl close. “Yer an intelligent, funny, weird, beautiful woman who has had a very bad day. You’re allowed to have bad days, Faz.”
“I’m a freak, ” Farrah mumbles, and Hadley cuffs her head lightly.
“Hey now. Don’t talk about my girl like that.” She wiggles further under the covers, pulling Farrah with her. “If you’re a freak, I am too. We’ll be freaks together, yeah?”
Farrah grins. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too. C’mon, you should get some rest. You look exhausted after all that.” As if on cue, Farrah lets out a yawn, and Hadley giggles.
“Goodnight, freak,” Farrah says, making herself comfy using Hadley as a pillow.
“Goodnight, weirdo.”