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Sleepovers at Firefly’s house weren’t something uncommon for Stelle—At this point it felt more like a second home to her thanks to all the time she spent there already, dropping by almost every day after bringing Firefly home from school, to the point she even had her own toothbrush in the bathroom sink and her own mug in the cupboard.
Yet—somehow—this time it felt different, looking at the girl in front of her above the board game they set up between them and staring at the silly smile she sported as she absolutely destroyed her at whatever strategy game they were supposed to be playing—Stelle didn’t really care to remember its exact name and rules, much less whatever effects the cards they played had in the simulated battlefield.
Anything except for whatever silly names she could make silly jokes out of and startle a laugh out of her play partner like she’d just done.
“Stelle?” Firefly startled her out of her recollection. Had she been staring too much? She definitely had, Stelle realized as she noticed the mirth in Firefly’s eyes. “Come on! I know I said you could take your time, but we’re not going to be able to finish this game before Kafka calls us for dinner at this rate!”
Stelle shivered—whatever it was that Kafka made could barely be qualified as dinner, so she said as much. “You mean to tell me Kafka is the one making dinner today?! If you wanted me dead you could’ve just stabbed me, you know?”
That startled another laugh out of Firefly—and gosh did Stelle love hearing her laugh, so much so that she almost missed what Firefly said next.
"Oh don’t be so dramatic! You know she does her best” Firefly put up a flimsy defence for her caretaker, batting at Stelle’s shoulder from across the board splayed between them, the casual contact driving her insane the way it always had ever since she realized her feelings for the girl in front of her—and to be honest, since even before that.
“And also, Yingxing’s in the house today, so he’s probably going to take over the kitchen. But you know how Kafka is, she’s going to insist on helping”
“Blade’s here? I’m saved!” Stelle threw her hands up in delight. The stoic man was an odd addition to the household, neither of them really knew his relationship with Kafka past being coworkers, but one thing that neither of them questioned was his skill in the kitchen, a stark contrast to Kafka’s own abilities in that regard.
Firefly giggled at her antics. “But you always empty your plate regardless, don’t you?”
In the end, Stelle tried and failed to keep focus on the game in front of her—though they managed to finish in time to clean up before Kafka knocked on Firefly’s door, to both girls’ relief.
Dinner was a mundane affair after that, Silver Wolf having to almost be dragged off of her room up until she found out it was Yingxing that had cooked that day, after which she’d all but bolted downstairs—and with very good reason, Stelle thought as she sat down and took her first bite out of the dinner in front of her.
Eating came and went in the blink of an eye, with Stelle even asking for seconds—much to Firefly and Kafka’s amusement. In the end it was just her and Firefly in the kitchen, Stelle having stayed behind to do the dishes and Firefly insisting on helping her, to Kafka’s knowing gaze and Stelle’s subsequent blush.
And so they stood side by side in front of the sink in a painfully mundane scene, one Stelle hoped would repeat again and again in the coming years, one she wished she was allowed to still hold onto.
She absentmindedly put down the last of the cutlery, watching as Firefly’s slender hands picked it up to dry it with the rag in her hands. In that moment, Stelle felt an overwhelming urge to do something, to act, to say what was on her mind—in that moment nothing else but them existed in the world.
What do I do now...? The answer to that question was easy in her mind—whatever felt right in the moment. So she took a step back and wrapped her arms around Firefly’s waist from behind, resting her chin on Firefly’s shoulder.
Firefly stiffened under her touch, almost dropping the fork she was drying—relaxing into Stelle’s embrace before she could start overthinking and nuzzling her cheek against Stelle’s head.
They stayed like this for a few instants, the entire world grinding to a halt as a stillness overtook the room. Not something bad, or awkward—But a quiet understanding.
Firefly finished putting the last of the cutlery away, careful not to dislodge herself from Stelle’s arms as she did so and finally tapping on her arm, signalling her to let go.
She did so, albeit reluctantly, stepping back so that Firefly had space to maneuver.
Firefly then took her hand with a smile, squeezing it between hers before leading them both to her room. Stelle trailing behind her like a lost puppy and absolutely no thoughts behind her golden eyes.
And that’s how they came to just stand in the middle of Firefly’s room, Stelle’s hand still between Firefly’s, her fingers tracing lightly around the callouses baseball had left after years of being their high school’s star batter—which had ended up turning into fodder for endless stupid jokes that, somehow, still managed to startle a laugh out of her friends every time.
The silence continued to stretch, neither of them willing to break it despite so desperately wanting to—the question hanging in the air, unsaid but present in both their minds.
... What do we do now?
The answer to that question was clear in Firefly’s mind—she did what felt right to her, golden eyes meeting sunset before pulling Stelle down by her collar and kissing her in the lips.