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The evening had settled into something familiar. The kind of quiet that came with two people who had long since stopped filling silences just to keep them from existing. Cynthia sat on the edge of Ariana’s couch, her posture relaxed but never quite still, always poised for movement. A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table between them, the lemon wedge floating like a discarded thought.
Ariana had learned not to take it personally, Cynthia’s restlessness. Some people were built for stillness, for settling into a space and letting it claim them. Cynthia Erivo was not. She was always half-here, half-on-the-way-out, a person whose presence felt like a held breath - brief, necessary, and never quite enough.
Ariana watched as Cynthia checked her phone, the screen illuminating her sharp features. A moment later, the inevitable:
“I have to go.”
It wasn’t an apology, just a statement of fact. There was never any bitterness in it, never a sense that Cynthia wanted to leave. But she always did. And Ariana had long since accepted that if she wanted to be in Cynthia’s life, she had to be okay with being left behind.
Cynthia was already halfway to the door by the time Ariana pushed herself up from the couch. A small, nagging part of her wanted to say something - You should take a break. You can’t do everything. Maybe we should get away for a bit. The words hovered on her tongue, but she bit them back. She wasn’t exactly in a position to talk.
She followed Cynthia to the door, their steps quiet against the floor. The air had shifted in that way it always did when something was ending, the night waiting just beyond the threshold.
Then, in a movement so casual it almost didn’t register, Cynthia turned, still balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear, and pressed a quick kiss to Ariana’s lips.
Ariana froze.
It was nothing. A light, absentminded thing, the kind of automatic gesture people did when they weren’t thinking about it. Cynthia had already turned away, stepping out onto the porch, one foot in another part of her life.
Ariana barely managed an awkward “Uh…bye,” before the door shut, the soft click punctuating the moment like a question mark.
She stood there for a long second, heart thudding too fast for something that had lasted barely half a second.
So.
They kissed each other now?
***
The next time Ariana saw Cynthia, they were scheduled to do a segment for a YouTube show for Wicked: Part 2 promo.
Ariana had always liked these in-between hurry-up-and-wait moments. The lull between one thing and the next, when there was nothing to do but wait and exist. In a world that never stopped pulling her in a thousand directions, these were the times she could actually breathe. And, more importantly, these were the times Cynthia couldn’t be anywhere else but here.
The set was bright and overproduced, like every other promotional thing she’d done in her life. A glaring backdrop, a few cameras, a director who would probably ask them to say something ridiculous like “Wicked is gonna be WICKED!” But Ariana didn’t mind. Not today.
Because Cynthia was already here, standing near the monitors, casually flipping through her phone, her other hand resting on her hip like she was waiting for someone to amuse her. And when she looked up and saw Ariana, her whole face changed.
Lit up.
Ariana had been on the receiving end of that look before, but she still felt the warmth of it hit her square in the chest. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming - it was just real. Undeniably, unavoidably real.
And Ariana, still thinking about their last goodbye, decided to test it.
She walked forward, steady, deliberate. Cynthia wasn’t going anywhere right now. She wasn’t on a call, wasn’t halfway out the door, wasn’t poised for departure. She was here. Ariana could have her, just for a little while.
So she pursed her lips and leaned in, the motion as natural as breathing.
Cynthia didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink.
She just kissed her.
It was light, automatic, the same way it had been at the door, like they had always done this. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ariana felt something coil and settle inside her.
So they were doing this.
Good.
She liked this new thing between them. It was just another way to be close to Cynthia - another tether in the space where their lives overlapped.
She pulled back, smiling, and Cynthia gave her a small smile in return before sliding her phone into her pocket.
“Morning,” Cynthia said, her voice low, amused.
Ariana’s pulse fluttered. “Morning. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
She always missed Cynthia. But at least she had her for the day.
***
They had just finished a performance of “For Good” on a late night show.
The adrenaline was still thrumming through Ariana’s veins, the echoes of their performance lingering in the air like the last vibrations of a plucked string. She felt raw, open. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the way Cynthia’s voice had wrapped around hers, seamless and sure, binding them together in front of the world.
And now they were here.
Tucked away beside Cynthia’s van, the hum of the city a distant murmur. The night was cool against Ariana’s skin, but Cynthia was warm, solid. Ariana pressed in close, resting her cheek against the fabric of Cynthia’s jacket, breathing her in. She felt Cynthia’s hand trace slow circles against her back, grounding her. It was nothing, really. Just comfort. Just familiarity. But right now, it was everything.
Cynthia’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Ariana knew what that meant before Cynthia even spoke.
“I have to go, babe.” The words were gentle, reluctant. Cynthia pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. “I’ll text you, okay?”
Ariana nodded, but her stomach clenched.
She knew where Cynthia was going. Back to her home, back to Lena. Back to something steady, something waiting for her. And Ariana - Ariana was going home to an empty house.
The thought settled like a weight in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her space. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her dogs. But the idea of walking into that quiet, cavernous house after a night like this, after feeling so full , so tethered to something real - it made her feel like she was about to drop straight into nothingness.
This was why she usually traveled with family. Why she liked hotel rooms packed with familiar voices, why she always made sure there was someone to come home to. She didn’t do well with loneliness. It crept in too easily, filled in the gaps, made itself comfortable before she even had a chance to fight it off.
She swallowed hard. At least I have this.
Lifting her head, she pursed her lips, an unspoken request. Cynthia didn’t hesitate. Their goodbye kiss was as easy as breathing now, a quiet punctuation mark between moments.
But this time, when Cynthia pulled back, Ariana didn’t.
She leaned in again, the movement barely a shift, just a question. And Cynthia answered it. Another quick press of lips.
Ariana’s chest tightened, something warm and desperate unfurling inside her.
She did it again.
A tiny beat of hesitation - Cynthia’s breath catching - but then, another kiss.
And another.
Three in total.
Cynthia chuckled, something amused and light flickering behind her eyes as she finally pulled away definitively. She stepped back, hand on the door of the van. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, voice steady, sure.
Ariana blinked.
Oh. Right. The interview.
Tomorrow.
The thought cut through the quiet dread creeping up her spine.
She could make it through the night.
Tomorrow was coming.
***
The days had settled into a rhythm. A steady, predictable thing.
Ariana saw Cynthia, she kissed Cynthia. Hello. Goodbye. Like clockwork.
No one questioned it.
Their teams had long since adapted to the way Ariana gravitated toward Cynthia, the way she tucked herself into her space without hesitation, the way her lips found Cynthia’s in brief, absentminded presses between interviews, rehearsals, waiting cars. No one batted an eye. Maybe they assumed it was an inside joke, or some theater-kid thing neither of them had ever grown out of. If Cynthia thought Ariana was being excessive, she never said anything.
Ariana told herself it was fine. Normal, even.
As long as it wasn’t in front of cameras.
That would be pushing it. That would be something else entirely.
But here, now, in the moments that belonged only to them, she let herself have this.
They had just wrapped yet another interview, the promo cycle for Wicked Part 2 dragging them from studio to studio in a blur of scripted answers and manufactured enthusiasm. Ariana barely remembered what she had said in this one. She had been thinking about lunch. About the way Cynthia’s laughter had carried through the green room earlier. About how many more days of this they had left.
Now, Cynthia was heading toward the exit, phone in hand, already halfway back in motion. Already leaving.
Ariana didn’t think. She just called out.
“Wait.”
Cynthia turned, one foot already on the curb. “Yeah?”
Ariana didn’t have a reason ready.
She hesitated for a beat too long, then covered it the only way she knew how.
“Forgot something,” she said, stepping forward.
Cynthia waited, expectant.
Ariana lifted her chin, pursing her lips.
A small smile flickered across Cynthia’s face, like she should’ve known. She leaned in without hesitation, meeting Ariana’s lips in the same quick, unthinking press as always.
Only this time, Ariana didn’t pull away.
She let it linger, let the contact stretch just a second too long, just deep enough to send a slow, deliberate message.
Cynthia stilled. It was subtle - just a flicker of tension, a split-second of hesitation - but Ariana felt it.
She pulled back.
Cynthia’s brow furrowed, confusion slipping through the cracks in her usual composure.
Ariana didn’t give her a chance to question it.
“Bye,” she said lightly, stepping back like nothing had changed.
Cynthia’s head tilted slightly, like she was working through something, but whatever it was, she let it go.
“Bye, babe,” she echoed, slipping into the van, the door clicking shut behind her.
Ariana stood there, hands in her pockets, watching the vehicle disappear down the street.
Her pulse was pounding.
She told herself it was nothing.
Just another kiss.
Just business as usual.
***
It was over.
The interviews, the premieres, the parties. The entire Wicked whirlwind that had carried her - them - for months.
Ariana had known it was coming. The end. It always came. No matter how bright, how consuming, how real something felt in the moment, the moment always ended. And then life reassembled itself into something smaller. Something quieter.
She just hadn’t expected the quiet to feel like this.
Cynthia was already moving on. Of course she was. She had been built for movement, for momentum, for filling up every available space with something next . She sat on the arm of a green room sofa, phone held out in front of her, speaking in a low, measured tone.
“Yeah, I can do it. Two weeks from now? That works.” A pause. A nod, though the person on the other end of the call couldn’t see her. “Just send me the details.”
Ariana barely heard the rest.
She watched instead. The way Cynthia leaned forward slightly, hand braced against her knee, already thinking ahead, already fitting herself into the next thing. The way the light hit the side of her face, the soft gleam of her skin, the curve of her mouth.
She could feel it happening.
The drifting. The way they were about to slip into separate orbits, phone calls spaced too far apart, texts left unanswered for hours - then days. And then, eventually, silence.
Ariana moved before she could stop herself.
She reached out, fingers curling around Cynthia’s hand.
Cynthia didn’t even blink at the touch. Her thumb moved absently, tracing slow, familiar lines against Ariana’s skin as she finished the conversation.
That tiny bit of contact shouldn’t have felt like an anchor.
But it did.
The call ended. Cynthia dropped her phone onto the couch beside her.
Ariana didn’t let go.
She stepped forward instead, standing between Cynthia’s knees, close enough to feel the warmth of her, close enough to—
She kissed her.
Fully. Deeply. No hesitation, no fleeting brush of lips, no quick, casual press.
She kissed her like she meant it.
Cynthia made a small noise in the back of her throat, surprised but not pulling away. And then - then she was kissing her back.
Ariana felt it all at once.
The way Cynthia’s fingers flexed against her hip, the way her lips parted, the warmth of her tongue sliding against Ariana’s own. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t careful either. It was something deep and searching, something neither of them had named but had been building toward for months .
She didn’t want to stop.
She wanted to pull Cynthia in and ask her to dinner, ask her to stay, ask her to please, please not let this be the end .
But she didn’t.
The words tangled somewhere between her heart and her mouth, stuck there, useless.
Cynthia was the one who pulled away first, breathless, lips full and parted.
For a split second, Ariana thought - hoped - she would say something. Something different.
But Cynthia just smiled. A soft, unreadable thing.
“Goodbye, babe.”
She squeezed Ariana’s hand one last time, then let go.
Ariana stood there, frozen, watching her walk away.
Her chest ached.
It felt like an ending.
She hoped it wouldn’t be.