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It was good that Zelda was out on a date, Abby reminded herself. She needed more space to figure out who she was. Just her, not one half of Abby and Zelda. When Zelda hurt her knee playing soccer senior year, Abby knew she’d felt it too. She’d walked with a limp for weeks. That wasn’t normal, was it?
Even though she and Zelda were supposed to be identical, Abby was sure she wasn’t the normal one. Why else would Zelda have found someone on the apps to go out with, and she hadn’t? Not that she actually tried to meet anyone on those apps; she had just joined to do it with Zelda. But still. It would have been nice to have been asked.
She looked at the clock. Almost nine. Would Zelda be home soon? Or- She thought about texting her to ask, but decided not to. They didn’t have to tell each other everything.
Abby was alone in their shared room. Their roommate Jude was still at work, but Abby still closed the door carefully before opening her laptop and navigating to AO3. Part of her pretended she was going to explore, maybe try and make herself branch out. But she knew where she’d end up.
She didn’t know why she wanted to read stories about spanking. Or why she especially liked reading about Mother Gothel being cruel to Rapunzel. Why her soft words and hard hairbrush made her stomach flip.
This was her one thing she didn’t dare share with Zelda. For better or worse, this was hers.
She read her favorite story, and then read it again. Then she let herself drift through the tags, looking for more stern mothers with paddles, straps, wooden spoons. Abby could imagine herself in the place of any of those wayward or unlucky daughters. Her bottom tingled, then stung, as if she was the one being punished. She had a vivid imagination. Everyone always said so.
The laptop was safely away when Zelda got home.
“How was your date?” Abby asked. She was already heating up the kettle, ready to make them tea and debrief.
“It was good,” said Zelda. Even in the dim kitchen light, Abby could tell she was glowing. The kettle whistled. “Really, really good.”
Their kitchen had three mismatched dumpster-rescue chairs, and Zelda leaned against the high wooden back of Abby’s favorite, making its feet click against the floor. The chair reminded Abby of her fantasies and seemed to make her bottom tingle again, and she looked away quickly. Time to put those thoughts away for the night.
“You went back to his place?” Abby asked. She poured the water over the tea bags.
“Mm-hm,” Zelda said, not quite meeting Abby’s eye. She accepted her mug, and it took Abby a moment to understand the brief wince that crossed her face as she sat down on the chair.
Zelda must have seen it right away. “Oh no, Abby- you felt it? I’m sorry, I didn’t think- you should know, it wasn’t anything bad, I wanted it, really, you don’t need to cry-”
But Abby was laughing. Was this more weird, or less? But either way, it was one more way they weren’t as different as she thought.