Chapter Text
“There’s nothing very much of anything to speak of / in the sky except a gey dreich greyness / rain-laden over Glasgow and today / there is the very least of even this for us to get / but / the light comes back / the light always comes back.”
- liz lochhead, “in the mid-midwinter”
The torrential rain glazed the streets of Glasgow, turning the pavements into mirrors reflecting orange streetlights and passing headlights. Vi, who was determined to help Caitlyn fix this, guided her out of the lively pub, aiming for the sights of a ‘Chippy’. The city buses roared along the asphalt, laughter echoed down narrow streets, and a faint bass and laughter spilt out from the pubs that they skipped past.
The pair had only just gotten to know each other over the past few weeks, at the beginning of the new semester. While both studying at the Royal Conservatoire, their first meeting wasn't exactly pleasant. Here, Caitlyn is following this fire-haired girl across Glasgow, and Caitlyn is slowly coming to realise she may be falling hard.
Vi leaned against the chip shop window outside, hair soaked from the rain, eyes bright with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for when she heard someone mention Robert Burns. In one hand, she held up a paper-wrapped parcel that was steadily leaking warmth and grease through the paper.
“Right,” Vi said, lifting a finger, like she was about to begin a lecture. “Ye cannae say ye’ve been introduced tae Scotland properly if ye’ve no had a battered Mars bar”,
Caitlyn pressed her lips together, but the smile still escaped. It always did when Vi got like this, animated, passionate, absolutely certain she was about to change the course of Caitlyn’s life.
“Vi”, Caitlyn's voice raised slightly, smiling despite herself, “You sound like you are about to give me pointers on my dissertation.”
Vi chuckled. “Aye, but instead of Rabbie, it’s deep-fried chocolate.”
Caitlyn laughed before she could stop herself. She turned slightly away as she ran her fingers through her wet hair, pretending to watch the rain sliding along the pavement, but her eyes kept drifting back. Vi had a way of talking with her whole body; hands moving, shoulders leaning forward, voice warm and slightly rough like she’d spent too long in practice. Caitlyn had first noticed it weeks ago when Vi had stood up in class and passionately defended a poem nobody else liked. Caitlyn remembered the first time she heard her recite a poem for a project.
She had been impossible not to look at, hair like fire, eyes like seafoam. She couldn’t help but stare at Vi’s sweet, rough-around-the-edges, handsome, freckled face.
Now Vi unwrapped the paper with dramatic flair. Inside was a battered Mars bar, golden and steaming.
“Behold,” Vi spoke out with pride, lifting it to the night sky.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re presenting it like it’s a communion wafer.”
“Aye, well.”
Vi tore off a piece and held it out
“Go on.”
Caitlyn hesitated. Not because of the Mars bar, though that was a questionable sticky and greasy mess that graced her palm, but because Vi was standing very close now, eyes fixed on her with sheer excitement. It was impossible not to smile. She hated that Vi could make her smile so easily, it made her cheeks ache.
“This is a terrible idea,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Probably,” Vi confidently announced.
Caitlyn leaned forward and took the offered bite.
The batter crunched. Melted chocolate and caramel flooded warm across her tongue.
She froze.
Vi watched her like a rugby fan on the edge of their seat, expecting to bottle it at the last moment.
“Well?” she asked.
Caitlyn chewed slowly, eyes closed.
“....You realise this is making things rather complicated for me.”
Vi’s eyes widened. “Aye?”
“…because I can, rather annoyingly, see the appeal,” Caitlyn admitted, shyly.
A laugh burst out, bright and delightful, echoing down the wet street. Vi looked so pleased, absurdly proud, like she’d just successfully introduced Caitlyn to some profound piece of Scottish culture. Caitlyn found herself staring again at her crooked grin. The damp hair. It was unfair how charming she was.
Vi broke off another piece and passed it to her,
“So,” she said casually, “next week I’m introducing you tae deep-fried pizza.”
Caitlyn shook her head, though she was still beaming.
“Vi,” she said, “I came to Glasgow to study classical music, not to be dragged around the city by a charming butch.”
Vi leaned a little closer, voice softer now.
“Ye think I'm charmin?”
All Caitlyn could say in that moment was.
"Aye."