Chapter Text
Lara is bored.
Immensely, extraordinarily, supremely, terribly, bored.
The girls didn’t have a schedule for today as management had given them the day off before they began their week and a half of promo in New York. Manon, Dani, and Sophia wanted to take full advantage, going out to eat at some KBBQ place Sophia had seen on an instagram story, and Yoonchae decided to tag along. Lara would have gone with them, never really one to stay home, but that would leave Megan all alone, and Lara, just for today, preferred the company of her best friend.
Unfortunately, as all of her members are distinctly aware of, a bored Lara makes for a scheming Lara. Last time Lara was this bored, she got Yoonchae to think Dani had been stealing her socks for three months straight.
Turns out, Yoonchae does not play about her socks.
If Lara really wanted to be evil and get the most out of her little schemes, she’d probably spend more than five seconds thinking about it. After all, her genius ideas don’t come quickly. Today, though, Lara figures she’ll go a little lighter on Megan.
The aforementioned girl is laying on her bed, noise cancelling headphones on as she watches this Netflix show she’s been raving about recently. The sight of Megan, all comfortable and hyper focused on her little show, occasionally mumbling to herself is cute, and for a moment, Lara simply watches her.
Then, she springs off her bed and walks over, perching herself on the edge of Megan’s bed.
Megan pauses her show before she takes her noise cancelling headphones off, feigning irritation. “I’m in the middle of a really interesting scene right now, you know, so this better be good.”
Lara lets out a small laugh. “Whatever you're watching cannot be that interesting, Meg.”
Megan looks almost offended, brows furrowing in this cute way that makes her look like an angry puppy. “Whatever. You’d understand if you watched it,” she huffed.
“You just like it ‘cause it’s got gays in it,” Lara says, one eyebrow raised, daring Megan to disagree. She doesn’t, of course—only rolls her eyes–because she knows it’s true.
After a beat, Megan asks, “Did you need something?” her brown eyes staring straight at Lara. Or maybe through her, right into her very soul. Megan was freakily observant sometimes. Lara would have thought Megan wanted nothing more than to get right back to her show, but the way Megan looked at her—it was as if her attention was solely focused on Lara, the show long forgotten.
There’s a brief pause, a blip in time; a fraction of a second where it’s like time just… stops. The New York traffic, the hustle and bustle of the city—it’s all quiet, except for their breathing. Just the two of them, in this hotel room, staring at each other. Like they’re the only ones on Earth, the only ones still moving after it stopped spinning.
Lara’s not quite sure how to feel about it, so she doesn’t acknowledge it at all.
“Mmm, I’m bored,” Lara sighs dramatically. The moment is over, and it sort of feels like whiplash.
She drops her head into Megan’s lap. Almost immediately, Megan’s hand is raking through Lara’s wild, black hair, the other one reaching to shut her laptop. Lara can’t tell what she’s thinking. “Let’s play 20 questions.”
Megan tilts her head, staring down at her. Like a puppy. “The one where I have to guess what you’re thinking and I only have 20 questions..?”
“No. That is the lamest game ever, Megan,” Lara shakes her head. “We’ll just each take turns asking each other random shit. Forget about the 20 part.”
Megan’s tongue swipes over her lip in consideration. “Okay. You go first.”
There’s already a grin forming on Lara’s face before Megan even finishes her sentence. Because from the second Lara walked towards Megan’s bed, she already knew what she was going to ask her.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Despite them being best friends, Lara didn’t actually know the answer to this question, though she could make a reasonable assumption. It’s not like Megan was open about her love life. In fact, Megan rarely—if ever—spoke about it at all, despite how many times the other girls had tried to coax a single detail out of her. Did it even exist in the first place? The only time Lara could think of Megan pursuing anything slightly romantic was when they both went on that two man, but nothing had ever come of it.
Megan’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and not even the dim lighting in the room can hide the unmistakable flush of pink that dusts her cheeks. Awww, Lara thinks internally. She’s embarrassed.
Megan shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but still pulls her zip up hood over her head in an effort to conceal her face. Lara laughs, hands reaching out to tug it off. “Come on, babes, don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay if you haven’t.”
“Is it?” Megan wraps her arms around herself, not looking at her. Lara mourns the absence of the hand in her hair. “I mean, it feels like everyone’s already had their first kiss, or they had it such a long time ago that it barely means anything, and like, here I am—nineteen, and I still haven’t kissed anyone.” Megan rambles suddenly, and the insecurity in her voice makes Lara stop giggling. “Like, you had your first kiss at what—fourteen? God knows how many people you’ve kissed since then,” Megan says, voice faltering at the end.
Lara sits up, brows furrowed in slight concern.
“Sorry, sorry I just—I don’t know. I just wish I could be more like you, I guess,” Megan murmurs, eyes downcast.
Oh. Well, shit. The last thing Lara wanted from that question was to rub salt on an old wound.
“Megan, look at me,” Lara says softly, all the teasing and humor gone from her voice, reaching out to cup Megan’s still warm cheek. She pulls Megan’s hood off her head with her other hand, fondly noting how it left her dark hair and pink bangs slightly frazzled at the top.
She hears Megan take a shallow breath before her eyes reluctantly meet Lara’s.
“So what if you’ve never kissed anyone? You’re only 19, babe. You have your whole life ahead of you to kiss whoever the fuck you want. Plus, there is a line of people on their knees that would kiss you in a heartbeat,” Lara says seriously, and her heart does a little flip when Megan chuckles at that. “I was just a curious kid—maybe too curious.”
Still am.
Megan smiles for a second, small but genuine, then tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, almost nervously. At that same moment, Lara realizes her hand is still cupping Megan’s cheek, thumb absentmindedly grazing the skin. She lets her hand fall, and hopes her own face isn’t warm, too.
“It’s not the who that I’m worried about,” Megan blurts, chuckling awkwardly, like it's the first time these words are coming out of her mouth. “It’s, um, the how.”
It doesn’t take long for Megan’s words to click.
Oh.
Ohhhhhhhh.
Lara would be lying if she said this wasn’t her intention; the intended outcome of her question, what she came here to do in the first place.
“So what you’re saying is,” Lara’s voice unintentionally lowers an octave, “you need practice.” She doesn’t frame it like a question, eyes boring into Megan’s soul.
That was more than enough to fry Megan’s brain.
“I—Um—” Megan stumbles over her words, because huh ? What? The sudden shift in energy had Megan wondering if this was an insane fever dream, and she was just a pervert fantasizing about her best friend.
But there is a silence as Lara waits—waits for her answer. Because this is not a dream, and Lara Raj, her best friend, wants to kiss her .
Or, maybe, just wants to help her out?
(This is crazy. This is crazy, right?)
And, god—Lara, intentionally or not, was looking at her like a predator observing its prey. Her eyes are already naturally so dark and piercing. It doesn’t help that Lara is a flirt , which only serves to drive home the implications of her statement. Yet, half of Megan still doesn’t want to believe what Lara is implying right now. That maybe this was a joke, one taken a little too far. No one’s home, but… what if this makes things weird between them? Awkward? They were best friends. Megan’s heard horror stories of people kissing their best friends, whether it was for fun or at an attempt to pursue more than just friendship, and how it didn’t turn out too well.
Losing Lara would not only be the end of her, but it would put a strain on the group, too.
The other half, the half of her that loves nothing more than to make reckless decisions, wants her to say yes, to take the risk—it wants to see how this will play out, and most importantly, craves that experience she’s never had: a first kiss. Even if it's with her best friend, her groupmate, she figures there’s no better person to teach her how to kiss.
Well.
You only live once, right?
Do now, face the consequences later.
“Yeah,” Megan gulps, throat suddenly dry. That seems to snap Lara out of whatever trance she was in.
“Fuck, sorry,” Lara laughs, though her own nerves are obvious, too. It’s clear in the way her finger curls around a dark strand of hair, the way she bites her lip. Megan’s always been aware of her little habits. Lara tears her eyes away from Megan and her flushed cheeks, her slightly tousled hair, her pink lips, but Megan can’t find it in her to do the same. “I don’t really know why I—”
Wait. Did Megan agree ?
Her eyes snap back to Megan, who looks like a bomb about to detonate if Lara doesn’t disable the fuse. Okay, fuck it–
It’s a surprise to both of them when Megan is the first to lean in. It’s quick and is barely more than a light peck on the lips, so quick Lara almost doesn’t feel it, besides the tingling on her lips that comes after. “Like that?” Megan says, voice barely above a whisper, and swallows hard, biting the inside of her cheek.
Oh, Megan . She’s so cute Lara wants to eat her whole, or grab her by the collar of her hoodie and smash their lips together, or kiss down her jaw and bite a spot into her neck, or maybe all three. Those certainly weren’t normal thoughts to have about her best friend, she knows that. But she’s never seen her so… flustered. It simultaneously satisfies and excites Lara—the fact that she’s the reason for the permanent blush on Megan’s face as she nervously awaits a response.
Lara licks her lips, but says nothing. Only stares at Megan, eyes a little wide, full of something, something Megan can’t quite place. Something like desire , Megan would think if she was delusional enough. Really, she just thinks she might go crazy.
Then, “Are you wearing lip plumper?” Lara asks, breaking the silence by letting out a soft laugh. Megan releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She nods.
“Yeah, Dani let me try hers,” Megan says, smiling, showing off the little divots in her cheeks, and for a minute, the tension almost dissipates.
Almost.
Lara inches closer to her on the bed. It’s a twin—not huge, considering they’re in a hotel room and there’s usually only ever one person sleeping in a bed at a time, unless you count Dani and Manon, who somehow always end up tangled together in one bed—so it doesn’t take long before Lara’s face is right in front of her.
It takes even less time for Lara’s lips to press against hers.
They’re soft. So impeccably soft, in fact, that Megan forgets that people don’t typically kiss with their eyes open. She lets them flutter shut. Lets this happen, because you only live once, and maybe kissing your best friend isn’t the end of the world. Lara tilts her head, presses harder, sighs into Megan’s mouth—and Megan’s not quite sure what to do with her hands.
That’s fine. It’s all about the learning process.
Lara’s hand slides up her neck and settles on Megan’s jaw, nails scratching lightly at the skin behind her ear. Her skin feels like it’s been set ablaze. It’s so strangely intimate—so fond, so adoring, so reverent. Nothing like the stuff Megan has seen on TV; intense, steamy makeouts with tongue and bodies pressed hotly against each other.
Megan does feel hot, though.
She pulls back from Lara, her lips feeling achingly empty the second she does, but it's only for a moment—she doesn’t think she could bear any longer than that. Megan almost rips off the hoodie she’s wearing and tosses it somewhere on the floor, not caring where it ends up, and crashes her lips into Lara’s once more, with a little more force than intended. Their teeth knock together, and Lara laughs, a melodic sound that makes Megan feel like she’s high off the ground.
“Slow down, Meg,” Lara teases, voice slightly breathy. Their foreheads are touching, mouths less than an inch apart. It is taking every ounce of self control in Megan’s body not to kiss Lara again. Her subconscious, ever the overthinker, tells her it’s just practice, you weirdo. And she’s your best friend. You’re gonna make it seem like you have a crush on her. She doesn’t realize she had missed actual feedback from Lara until she catches the end of her sentence, because that is what this is meant to be. Practice. "—and, you know you can touch me, right?”
Megan’s brain short circuits. “Huh?”
Lara smiles knowingly at her, eyes darker than before, if that were even possible. No, Megan isn’t crazy. Desire curls in the irises of Lara’s eyes—desire for her . “Do something with your hands,” is all Lara says before they’re kissing again, and this time, neither of them are sure they can keep masking whatever this is as practice .
Megan figures the most natural thing to do is put her hands on Lara’s waist. Lara, who Megan suddenly realizes is in nothing but biker shorts and a cropped tank. That’s all she ever wears when home, and Megan had never paid her revealing outfits much mind—that was her best friend, and she had seen Lara in less—but now that Megan was kissing her, wanting to touch her, well—
That was different.
The moment Megan’s hands find Lara’s waist, her skin warm and smooth, Lara’s arms snake around Megan’s neck and pull her in, arching her back ever so slightly—closer, deeper, like she doesn’t want there to be an inch of space between them. Good. Neither does Megan.
This position is a little awkward, Megan thinks. They’re both sitting on their knees, Megan bracing herself with one hand, and it just won’t be comfortable in the long run. They’re not close enough . So Megan, her brain mostly mush from the feeling of Lara’s firm lips, the warm, brown skin under her hands, and the intoxicating smell of Lara’s deliciously sweet signature perfume, doesn’t think about her words twice when she murmurs “sit on my lap,” into Lara’s mouth.
And Lara? She doesn’t think, either. Just does.
Lara doesn’t pull away even as she maneuvers herself onto Megan’s lap, instead kissing harder as bare skin meets bare skin. They’re both wearing shorts. Megan wonders, under all the fog in her brain, if it really is that hot in here or Lara is just that warm.
Lara slips her tongue into Megan’s mouth and Megan can’t help the little surprised sound that escapes her. It only eggs Lara on further, nibbling on Megan’s bottom lip. Jesus fuck. Did she mention that kisses were very wet? Her hands act of their own accord as they wander, sliding up and down Lara’s thighs, squeezing, dragging her nails across the skin, mapping it out as if to familiarize herself with every inch of her best friend’s body in a way she never had before. Lara groans quietly into her mouth, and Megan does it again. She wants to hear that noise again and again.
It’s like they’ve fallen back into that blip of time, where no one else exists except for them, where New York City finally sleeps and the world stops orbiting around the sun. They’re not Lara Raj and Megan Skiendiel of Katseye, not right now. They’re just Lara and Megan, best friends who perhaps felt a little more for each other than typical best friends do, and it took a stupid question like have you ever kissed anyone before for them to make a move.
Lara pulls away for air, chest heaving as she looks down at Megan. Flushed, pink, and so, so pretty, with her messy bangs sticking to her forehead and swollen lips parted as she breathes. There is glitter in her eyes as she looks up at Lara, and her heart pangs at the same time it soars, because she knows she’s looking at Megan the exact same way.
(And then, as quickly as things turn sweet, they sour.)
Her stomach drops. Why is she looking at Megan like that?
This wasn’t meant to be anything more than a little game, some lighthearted fun while they waited for the rest of the girls to return. This was just supposed to fix Lara’s boredom. It was practice , for god’s sake—as shitty as that excuse was—so that Megan can confidently comb through that line of people that would jump for her at a flick of her wrist and find someone, anyone she could kiss with no strings attached. Not Lara, her best fucking friend. Lara, who currently sits in Megan’s lap and Megan, who stares up at her like she hung the stars.
Lara’s not dumb. She’s never been one to doubt or hide her own feelings, instead going with the flow and seeing where it takes her. And she knows when someone feels the same way towards her, yet for some reason, she thought she held more control than this when she had asked that stupid question, the one that led them here in the first place. Enough control that ensured “practice”, a game, whatever this was, was all it would be, and that Megan would never come to term with her own feelings.
Have you ever kissed anyone before?
Her feelings—feelings for Megan, which she had never intended to act upon—had subconsciously led her here. Betrayed her.
They weren’t supposed to. They were supposed to stay hidden, because Megan is her best friend, her groupmate, her Katseye sister, and nothing good could possibly come out of this for the both of them. So Lara isn’t supposed to be looking at Megan like she loves her, and Megan shouldn’t be looking at her like she sees right through her.
The glitter fades from Megan’s eyes. “Lara?” She whispers, voice small, afraid that if she speaks any louder Lara might just bolt out of the hotel entirely. Now the ticking time bomb was her.
And then, it hits her all at once—Megan’s hands still on her hips, her dance sculpted thighs resting underneath Lara’s own, their bodies pressed flush against each other, Lara’s own arms curled around Megan like she planned on never letting her go, the honking and noises of traffic coming from the streets of New York, a ping from both of their cellphones, the sound of their breathing, the fact that the world never stopped spinning, because the world stops for no one, not even Lara and Megan.
It was, simultaneously, too much and not enough.
They weren’t supposed to be doing this. They were friends. They are friends. Lara is in control again, and she won’t jeopardize their relationship over some stupid fucking feelings. The group comes first. Lara had that drilled into her since her Dream Academy days, and its always reigned true. They worked harder than anyone else to be here. They couldn't fuck this up.
So Lara clambers off of Megan like another second close to her might just burn them both, and makes her way to her own side of the room. She doesn’t see the way Megan’s face crumples, the hurt and confusion in her expression.
Just for a second, Lara feels like she can breathe—and then she's back to feeling like she's about to suffocate. The room is thick with heavy tension, words left unsaid. She digs some random blue hoodie out of her suitcase and throws it on, then changes into a pair of black sweatpants, appropriate for the chilly New York weather.
Megan knows exactly what she’s doing.
“ Lara ,” she says again, this time pleading. In one word, they both know what she’s trying to say. Don’t go. Please. But Lara needs to clear her head because she feels like she's going insane, and she's going to hyperventilate if she stays in this room any longer. She fears, above all else, that being close to Megan right now might just send her over the edge, make her do something stupid they both might regret, for the second time.
“I need to go,” comes Lara’s shaky voice.
And then she’s gone. It feels like fucking whiplash, and tastes a little like heartbreak.