Chapter Text
The bed was empty. It was always empty.
Freyja let out a groan as she rolled over, her arm lifting to shield her eyes from the sunlight peering through the open blinds as she nuzzled into the black silk sheets. The space next to her still held some warmth. Still smelled like her too. That signature scent of charred wood and roses haunted her, even when she wasn’t there. It clung to everything, a sour reminder that she was out of place.
She was disappointed. She didn’t know why. She was never there. She always had better things to do. Soraya was a woman of sophistication and purpose. Only her nights were ever truly dedicated to her.
Freyja laid there, just thinking. Maybe if she just closed her eyes again, she’d open them to find that beautiful woman next to her. Her dark hair, her towering black wings, her tanned, bare skin, covered in scars only she was ever allowed to see; it could be hers again for just a little longer.
Or at least she wished it could be. God, she was such a fool, letting herself fall into this. This was an infiltration plan, not a way to— get intimacy.
The sun continued its way up the glass. Its warm rays filled the bedroom, illuminating every crevice. Every remnant of the night before, every sign the space was never meant to be hers, the very woman that didn’t belong there at all.
Freyja sighed. Why did she have to make so many bad decisions?
With another disgruntled huff, the olive-skinned woman tore herself away from the sheets, tossing them away to bare herself in all her pathetic glory, exposed and alone. The sunlight kissed her skin and curls, making her glow against the dark shades of the room. The only thing willing to embrace her at this hour, even if it was with judgement.
She sat up on the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting against the hardwood floor. She covered her face in her hands, her dark skin growing warm under the sun’s rays. Her blue eyes glared out at the blinding sun from between her fingers.
Today was a new day. Another day to repeat this cycle of thinking she mattered to her. Tomorrow morning will be the same.
The bed was empty. It was always empty.
Why did she still hope that would change?