Chapter Text
Whitney had finally convinced Dina to come to open-mic night at the downtown coffee shop. The scent of burnt espresso and chocolate syrup hung thick in the air, the lights dimmed and warm, casting everything in a soft, amber glow. The air was slightly thick, the tables were crowded too close together, and the place buzzed with low conversation and clinking mugs.
Dina wrapped her hands around her cup, more for something to do than for the warmth. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe background music, something easy to half-listen to while Whitney whispered commentary in her ear or raved about some new game.
Whitney leaned closer, already animated. “Okay, but trust me. This band is actually pretty good. I’ve seen them play almost every open mic since we’ve started coming here, and they definitely know my face by now.”
Dina hummed, noncommittal, eyes drifting across the room. She clocked the familiar things first—the chipped counter, the string lights humming faintly overhead, the small stage tucked against the back wall. It all felt comfortably forgettable; the perfect setup to get lost in her mind.
Then someone stepped up to the mic.
Dina didn’t notice the band at first. She noticed the voice.
It cut through the room clean and sure, soft in a way that demanded attention instead of asking for it. Conversations dulled, laughter faded, the space seemed to lean inward as the singer settled onto a stool, guitar resting easily against her knee.
Dina looked up.
Freckles, scattered like constellations along pale skin. Hair messy and pulled back in what seems to have been a rush, like she was more focused on chasing her dreams instead of the day-by-day. Her eyes, the brightest and virescent, sparkling under the buzzing lights.
Dina forgot to take another sip of her tea (she had long reached her coffee limit for the day) hand idling near her chin.
When the singer’s gaze lifted from the strings and found her, held her, Dina felt something inside her alight—stall, maybe stop altogether.
“Oh, lately forgive me,” she sang, voice low and steady, “I’ve been singing to a bird in another tree.” She held the note, voice harmonizing with other band members.
Dina’s breath caught.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this—like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, chest rising heavily, deciding if she should dive into the ocean below or turn back.
Whitney nudged her, grinning. “You’re enjoying yourself, I can see it,” she whispered.
Dina didn’t answer.
Her tea went cold in her hands.
Dina had never been there on a Thursday before. She usually met Whitney at the shop on quieter nights, Sunday afternoons, finals week mornings, days when the coffee went cold on the table because she’d been staring into space too long, just begging for her homework to finish itself.
“So I sing to my bird, to the beat of my pulse, you know it won’t last forever this time spent apart—”
“Maybe we’ll find out our dreams intertwined in the sea, in the valley, you’ve already had me.
Maybe we’ll find that we just needed time to be free,”
“Oh, maybe we’ll find out we just needed time in another tree.”
As applause erupted around her, Dina decided then and there that she was never missing another open mic night again. And as if it were an afterthought (because it was), Dina clapped and smiled.
Dina’s life before she met her other half had been quiet in ways she’d never thought to question.
Leftovers gone untouched because she had too much and no one to share them with. Blankets too big for one person, always folded neatly because sometimes she was so bored and lonely, she went on a cleaning spree in an already clean space. An apartment that stayed cold because no matter how high the thermostat, for some reason, only another human's warmth could satisfy the icy sting of being all by yourself when everyone had someone. No one to notice the weird way she liked to organize her books, and no one to wonder where she went when she needed to think.
It was a Tuesday when Dina met her. Slowly, she learned her soulmate, worked out a new and packed schedule that she looked forward to, and found the space to share her life with someone bold and enigmatic in such a pleasing way that it tickled Dina’s soul to discover more about her every single day.
Dina was working a late shift at the campus grocery store when she saw her. Supposedly, the band girl with the voice of an angel went to the same university as her.
She stood near the freezer section, hair pulled back just as messily as before, backpack slung low on one shoulder, frowning in concentration as she stared at the ice cream options like it was a life-or-death decision.
Dina froze.
Her hands tightened around the edge of the counter. She took a second—straightened her posture, smoothed down the stray hairs that never quite stayed in her ponytail, inhaled.
She wanted to know her name. To recognize her scent and be able to call her someone special. Maybe it was weird to feel this way about a stranger who apparently had a siren song, but either way, Dina wanted her in her life. Hah, what if she turned out to be an absolute asshole? Would I still feel so connected to her?
She considered walking over. Asking if she needed help finding anything. Immediately hated how desperate that felt. So she waited. The girl eventually grabbed three things: mint chocolate chip ice cream, a bottle of Dr Pepper, and a pack of paper towels. She headed for the register.
Dina pretended to be very busy checking the cash drawer.
When she stepped up, Dina smiled automatically. “Hello.”
She smiled back. “Hey.”
Dina scanned the ice cream first. “Mint chocolate chip?” She tilted her head. “Let me guess. A friend in need, a messy breakup emergency?”
The girl chuckled, shaking her head. “Uh, no. It’s actually my favorite. I’ve got, like, the worst sweet tooth ever.”
Dina blinked. “Really?” She nodded.
“It doesn’t taste like chocolate toothpaste to you?” She shook her head again, amused.
Dina paused mid-scan. “Wow. Okay. My favorite’s dulce de leche. You should try it sometime.”
She nodded earnestly. “Noted.”
Dina gave her the total. The girl paid with Apple Pay, a cute dinosaur charm key chain clacking against her phone, then leaned forward slightly, eyes flicking down to Dina’s name tag.
“Thank you… Dina,” she said.
Embarrassingly, Dina’s chest warmed, and she couldn’t stop the feeling, no matter how hard she tried to shove it down or push it away; it was a losing battle.
“And I’ll definitely try that ice cream next time.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Dina blurted. Whyyy can’t I control my stupid mouth?!
The girl stopped, eyebrow—scarred—raising just a fraction.
Dina swallowed. “I mean—if you know my name, it’s only fair I know yours. Balance in the universe and all.”
Her mouth curved slowly into a smirk. “Right. Balance.”
She met Dina’s gaze. “Ellie.” She said simply.
Ellie.
Sounds like a nice name to know.
Dina smiled, cheeks alight and warm. “Have a nice day, Ellie.” After that, Ellie started frequenting the campus grocery store.
They talked every time Ellie came into the grocery store, and Dina was pretty sure that sometimes she only came just for Dina. Like, who goes all the way across campus for just napkins and, of course, her signature Dr Pepper.
At first, it was small things—classes, favorite movies, whether sushi was actually good or not (Ellie was wrong about this, Dina decided). Ellie tried the dulce de leche ice cream and loved it. Which meant Dina had to give mint chocolate chip another chance.
“Okay,” Dina said one afternoon on her break, plastic spoon in hand. “I’m keeping an open mind just for you.” She took a bite. Paused. Then frowned.
“…Wait.” A small smile made its way onto her face.
Ellie leaned closer to her on the bench eagerly. “Well?”
“It’s actually good,” Dina admitted. “But to be fair, the last time I tried it I had, like, a microscopic spoonful when I was eight.”
Ellie laughed. “Then your original impression doesn’t even count.”
Eventually, Dina worked up the courage to say, “I’ve seen you before. At open mic night.”
Ellie’s eyes lit up, head nodding slightly. “I remember seeing you.”
“Every Thursday since then,” Dina said lightly.
Ellie grinned. “Guess you’re my good luck charm then, because there’s been a full house ever since.”
Dina smiled and looked away toward the post-rain-soaked pavement, wind carrying those stubborn stray hairs on its journey.
“No way. You don’t need luck; you’re lucky all on your own.”
Ellie’s grin widened, and Dina noticed a few sprinkles of leftover rain dotted on Ellie’s auburn hair like spider silk.
“Oh? What makes you think that?”
You’re talented, beautiful, and smart in a way that blows my mind. You have me trapped under a hot lamp like a moth, and every time you walk away, my world goes dark; I search for that heat, that warmth, every day.
Instead of embarrassing herself, she settled for something more tame.
“You’re just too cool, Ellie.” Her brows raise mid-sentence briefly, and her dark eyes rest on Ellie's after stopping their journey, exploring her face for the millionth time.
Ellie brushes it off and goes back to her ice cream, but Dina can only hope that Ellie knows how much she meant it.
They began hanging out outside the store as friends. Dina would surprise Ellie by sitting in the back at open mic night, making the auburn-haired girl think that she didn’t show up, before suddenly moving closer right as the song started.
They hungout at the campus museum, whispering commentary at each other in silly voices. Little doodle cards made at the craft station, passed back and forth—Ellie’s messy sketches, Dina’s neat handwriting. People watching at the pier that Ellie drove them four hours to visit at least every few weeks, rain or shine; they’d roleplay as different couples they saw, pretending to act out their conversations. A Photo Booth strip pinned to Dina’s fridge where Dina kissed Ellie’s cheek on impulse and then stared at the camera like she’d just surprised herself just as much as Ellie. Festivals. Shared funnel cake fries. Sugar-coated fingers brushing in the box and not pulling away.
Their first kiss happened under cheap lantern lights, music bleeding through the air, Ellie’s hands warm and hesitant at Dina’s waist. Neither could pretend that this was only friendly, as they swayed along to the soft music
“I’ve liked you for a while,” Ellie admitted afterward, forehead pressed to Dina’s. Ellie’s eyes sparkled under the lights just like when they first laid eyes on one another, and Dina’s skin buzzed all the same under that heated gaze.
“Good,” Dina whispered. “Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I first saw you.”
A beat.
“And I never want to.”
Ellie smiled slowly, leaning in and meeting Dina right where she wanted. Her lips soft against her own, and Dina will have to thank the stars above for the miracles being granted right now. Dina deepened the kiss, running her tongue along Ellie’s lower lip as Ellie tightened her grip on Dina’s waist.
They pulled away, only to look, to admire. Eyes darted, and all Dina could think about was how badly she wanted to kiss Ellie again.
But Ellie beat her to it.
The rest came naturally.
Late-night grocery runs where they got both ice creams because choosing felt impossible. Ellie teaching Dina guitar, fingers guiding hers patiently. Ellie covering Dina’s eyes during gory scenes—not because she was afraid, but because Dina couldn’t handle it anymore, not since a bad skateboarding accident left her squeamish. Dina finding out that Ellie was actually super clingy and cute when she let herself be vulnerable, but Dina promised she wouldn’t tell anyone how hard she tries to distract Dina from leaving the bed in the morning.
Ellie making Dina’s coffee exactly right every morning. Dina journaling late at night, writing about how love sometimes walks into your life when you least expect it, disguised as a siren song in a coffee shop. Families met. Holidays shared.
And one night, under familiar buzzing lights, Ellie sang the same song again—voice steady, gaze locked on Dina as she knelt, ring shaking in her hand as the band played behind her.
“Oh, lately forgive me, I’ve been singing to a bird in another tree…”
Dina said yes before Ellie finished the verse. Then again, when she did finish.
Because balance, after all, had finally been found.