Work Text:
The call came at 2:45AM
Columbina stared at her phone as it buzzed on her desk, the screen lighting up with Scaramouche’s name.
That alone already made her uneasy.
Scaramouche never called unless something was wrong, and Sandrone…
Sandrone hadn’t replied to her messages for almost six hours.
Columbina answered immediately. “Hello?”
On the other end, Scaramouche sounded exhausted, unimpressed, and faintly amused. Only because he was witnessing somebody else’s disaster.
“Come get your girlfriend.”
Columbina abruptly straightened in her chair. it screeched against the dorm floor. “What?”
“Your girlfriend,” he repeated flatly. “This tiny menace with a mean tongue and superiority complex. She’s drunk!”
Columbina just sat there with her pulse kicking hard against her throat.
“Drunk?” she echoed. Her voice came out softer than she meant it to, worry slipping underneath. “What do you mean, drunk?”
“What do you think I mean?” Scaramouche said. “She drank. Too much, apparently. She’s been glaring at people and mumbling insults, but she keeps asking where you are every thirty seconds, so I’m done dealing with this.”
Columbina stood up, already reaching for her hoodie and keys. “Where are you?”
He named the place, a bar near his university, thirty minutes from hers by taxi, a little student haunt she’d heard about but never gone to.
Columbina’s jaw tightened. “Why didn’t she tell me she was going out?”
Scaramouche made a dry noise. “Ask her when you get here. Preferably after you pry her off the table. She’s being weird.”
“Weird how?”
Columbina only heard silence on the other end.
Then, reluctantly, Scaramouch said. “Affectionate.”
Columbina blinked. Scaramouche sounded personally offended by the concept.
“I’m leaving now,” she said.
“Good. Hurry up. Childe keeps trying to make her drink water and she’s looking at him like she wants to bash his head into the wall.”
The line cut.
Columbina grabbed her bag and left so fast. She even forgot to turn off the lamp in her dorm.
The taxi ride felt too slow. Every red light made her knee bounce harder.
Her messages with Sandrone sat open on her phone.
Bina: Are you still in the library?
Bina: Don’t forget to eat.
Bina: Where are you?
Bina: Sandrone?
Bina: I’m serious, reply when you see this.
Bina: Are you okay?
Seen by nobody. Replied by nobody. And all this time, Sandrone had apparently gone drinking.
Without even telling her.
Columbina pressed her lips together and looked out the window, the city lights were blurring past.
Worry had already curled itself around her chest hours ago, but now that it had a reason, now that she knew Sandrone was physically fine, just drunk and irresponsible, the fear had somewhere to go.
It went straight into annoyance. No, more than that, it turned into anger.
She had been worried sick.
Sandrone knew how much Columbina hated being left in the dark. She knew Columbina’s mind ran wild when texts went unanswered for too long, knew she started imagining every awful possibility until she couldn’t focus on anything else.
And she still didn’t say a word
Columbina exhaled slowly through her nose and rubbed her temple.
She was relieved, yes. But also...She was indeed, very, very angry.
And Sandrone was going to hear all about it.
The bar was loud and cramped. The second Columbina stepped inside, she spotted Scaramouche immediately in the back booth.
He had been sitting there for a while, looking like someone who had endured too much stupidity in one evening. Childe was beside him, waving cheerfully despite the situation, and…
Sandrone sat between them, arms folded on the table, cheek smushed against them, looking deeply offended at existence.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair was a little messy. Her eyes were glassy.
And when she lifted her head and saw Columbina, something on her face changed suddenly that made Columbina’s chest hurt.
“Silly girl,” Childe said “look who came.”
“Finally,” Scaramouche muttered.
Sandrone stared at her girlfriend with her vision all blurry.
Then she pushed herself upright with any trace of dignity she still had left, which might have worked better if she hadn’t swayed halfway up.
“Bina,” she breathed.
Columbina crossed her arms. “Hi.” her voice lacked its usual warmth.
Sandrone’s expression immediately crumpled into something sad and guilty.
Oh, no.
Columbina knew that look. That look was too dangerous for her angry heart. She still needed to teach her girlfriend a lesson.
So Columbina tried her very best to hold her ground. “You’re drunk.”
Sandrone blinked slowly. “A little.”
“A little?” Scaramouche repeated incredulously. “She tried to argue with several people because she thought they were judging her.”
They were standin’ all weird next t’ meee…what was I s’posed t’ think…” Sandrone mumbled, all pouty and slurred.
Childe snorted.
Columbina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out?”
Sandrone opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked guilty. If she had literal cat ears, it would’ve probably flattened on the sides of her head by now.
Sandrone looked miserably sincere, like a drunk person who knew she was in trouble. She reached out and caught the sleeve of Columbina’s hoodie between her fingers.
“…forgot,” she mumbled.
Columbina’s stared at her. “what do you mean, ‘You forgot.’?”
Sandrone gave the tiniest nod, then immediately leaned closer like she was trying to soften the blow by being closer to her angry girlfriend. “Was gonna tell you,” she slurred quietly. “Promise.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know.” Sandrone’s voice turned smaller. “I know, Bina. I’m so sorry”
Columbina tried very hard not to react to that tone. “You scared me.”
That seemed to hit Sandrone harder than the scolding did. Her expression faltered, and she shuffled forward until she was nearly pressed against Columbina, both hands now bunching in the front of her hoodie.
“Don’t say it like that, please” Sandrone whispered, sounding guilty. “Makes me sad.”
Columbina let out a slow breath. “It should.”
Sandrone pouted at her, sleepy and offended and strangely adorable on a face that was usually so composed.
“I said I’m sorry,” she muttered.
Scaramouche stood up and shoved Sandrone’s bag toward Columbina. “I’m leaving before she starts crying again.”
Columbina froze. “Crying?”
Scaramouche pointed at Sandrone. “She got emotional because someone played a sad song.”
Childe grinned. “She also said you have the prettiest voice in the world. About twelve times.”
Sandrone’s head whipped toward him. “No-hic-don’t tell her that!”
“You’re welcome,” Childe said.
Columbina’s ears warmed despite herself.
Childe and Scaramouche had seen Sandrone annoyed and furious before.
But what they had never seen before was this.
Sandrone was practically folded into Columbina’s side like she’d been magnetized there.
Her arms were looped around Columbina’s neck, cheek pressed against her shoulder, eyes half-lidded and soft.
Childe feel like he was witnessing classified information.
“…Oh, this is priceless.”
Scaramouche, leaning against the booth beside him, looked dead inside. “Don’t.”
Childe ignored him completely. “No, because I need to understand what I’m seeing right now. Is that Sandrone? The Sandrone? The one who looks offended if someone stands within five feet of her?”
Sandrone lifted her head just enough to squint at him. “Go away.”
Her words would’ve had more bite if she hadn’t immediately turned back around and nuzzled closer into Columbina’s neck.
Childe slapped a hand over his mouth. “No,” he wheezed. “No, absolutely not-she nuzzled. Scara, did you see that?”
“I’m trying not to,” Scaramouche said.
Columbina, meanwhile, looked like she was hanging on by a thread.
One hand was around Sandrone’s waist to keep her upright. The other was pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Sandrone” she murmured, trying for stern and only halfway succeeding, “sit properly.”
Sandrone clung tighter.
“No.”
“You’re crushing me.”
“No.”
Childe made a strangled sound. “Aww how adorable.”
Sandrone turned just enough to glare at him again, which would have been far more effective if her face wasn’t still half-hidden against Columbina’s shoulder.
“Dunno why you’re still talking,” she muttered. “Nobody asked.”
Childe put a hand on his chest. “Oh, she’s still mean. Great. Nature is healing.”
Columbina let out a slow sigh. “You’re not helping.”
“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.” Childe said, grinning.
Sandrone made a soft, unhappy sound and tilted her head up to look at Columbina instead, fully ignoring him now.
“Bina,” she mumbled.
“Yes?”
“He’s being annoying.”
“I can tell.”
“Make him stop.”
Childe gasped. “Excuse me?”
Sandrone frowned at him, then immediately looked back at Columbina with a tiny pout. “He’s loud.”
That nearly made Columbina cave in.
Childe saw it happen in real time: the way Columbina’s mouth twitched, the way her eyes softened despite herself, the way whatever annoyance she’d been holding onto started visibly losing the fight.
“Oh, wow,” Childe said, delighted. “You’re actually helpless.”
Columbina shot him a warning look. “Childe.”
“What? You are. She says two words in that tiny voice and suddenly you look like you’re about to forgive all her crimes.”
Sandrone blinked up at Columbina, eyes wide. “Are you forgiving my crimes?”
Columbina closed her eyes briefly. “Not yet.”
Sandrone’s pout deepened. She tightened both arms up around Columbina, practically climbing into her lap despite being on the seat right beside her.
Childe actually had to grip the table. “This is insane,” he said. “Who is this diva and what have you done with our Sandrone?”
Sandrone, without looking at him, muttered into Columbina’s shoulder, “I hate him.”
Columbina gently stroked a hand through her hair. “It’s okay, don’t mind him.”
“he’s ugly.”
“I’m right here, you know?” Childe said.
“And loud,” Sandrone added.
Childe looked at Scaramouche. “Are you hearing this?”
Scaramouche took a sip of his drink. “You deserve worse.”
Sandrone shifted again, then tilted her head back just enough to look at Columbina with sleepy, pleading eyes.
“Can we go home?”
Columbina only stared at her girlfriend’s face. Childe watched the exact second she lost.
Her entire expression softened into something helplessly in love, and she brushed a thumb over Sandrone’s cheek.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “We can go home.”
Sandrone brightened immediately, hugging her tighter. “Good.”
Childe pointed at them. “That! That right there! She doesn’t even ask, she just clings and blinks at you and you fold instantly!”
Columbina gave him a flat look. “Do you want me to leave her with you instead?”
Childe sat back at once. “Absolutely not. Take her. Immediately.”
Sandrone lifted one hand without leaving Columbina’s side and made a vague shooing motion in his direction. “Bye.”
Childe stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“This is unreal,” he said, shaking his head. “Tomorrow I’m never letting you live this down.”
Sandrone frowned, then hid her face against Columbina again. “Tomorrow isn’t real.”
Scaramouche snorted.
And Columbina, despite everything, let out the smallest laugh.
Scaramouche looked at her with the last reserves of his patience. “Take her home.”
And then it was just Columbina and Sandrone.
The music pounded around them. Glasses clinked. People laughed too loudly.
all Columbina could really see was Sandrone looking up at her with flushed cheeks and huge, dazed eyes.
“Stand up, properly” Columbina said gently.
Sandrone obeyed but then she nearly toppled directly into her.
Columbina caught her by the waist on instinct.
Sandrone made a small sound and immediately leaned all her weight into her like that had been her plan all along. Her hands clutched at Columbina’s hoodie, bunching the fabric at her sides.
“Careful,” Columbina murmured.
“You came,” Sandrone said, as if it still surprised her.
The annoyance in Columbina’s chest flared again, because of course she came. How could she not?
“I had to,” she said. “Since apparently that was the only way I’d find out where you were.”
Sandrone went still for half a second. Then her mouth turned down, small and miserable.
“Oh.”
Columbina looked away first. “Let’s go.”
Columbina had barely gotten them two steps from the entrance before Sandrone latched onto her arm with both hands.
She was clinging at her again. Full-body, determined and shameless clinging.
Columbina looked down at her. “Sandrone.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No letting go,” Sandrone mumbled, pressing closer. “You’re warm.”
Columbina tried to stay stern. “this is going to be a long night.”
“I thought you liked me.”
“That’s not the point.”
Sandrone looked unconvinced and she rested her head against Columbina’s shoulder.
It was deeply unfair. Everything about this was.
Sandrone is usually mean, and prickly. But tonight, she’s soft at every edge. Her voice had gone quiet and sweet.
She tucked herself against Columbina like she belonged there and expected to be kept, right there.
Columbina tried hailing a cab with one hand while supporting most of Sandrone’s weight with the other.
“You should have told me,” she said finally, unable to hold it in any longer.
Sandrone’s grip tightened. “I know,” she whispered.
Columbina looked at her.
Sandrone wasn’t meeting her eyes. She just stared down at the pavement.
“I know,” she repeated, her voice small, she sounded a bit scared. “I’m sorry.”
The cab pulled over.
Columbina helped her inside, and the second the door shut, Sandrone curled into her side again like a magnet.
Columbina gave the driver the address of Sandrone’s apartment. Then silence settled between them for a moment.
Sandrone’s fingers had were still at the sleeve of Columbina’s hoodie and were absently playing with the cuff.
“You worried me,” Columbina said.
It came out low and honest, which sounded more hurt than angry.
Sandrone flinched. Columbina hated that she saw it.
“I texted you so many times,” Columbina continued, looking down at their hands. “You didn’t answer. I didn’t know if you were busy, or mad, or if something happened to you. And then Scaramouche calls me and tells me you’re drunk at a bar across the city?”
Sandrone swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“You knew I’d worry.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Sandrone was quiet long enough and Columbina thought she wouldn’t answer.
“I wasn’t planning to drink that much.” Sandrone admitted softly.
Columbina’s gaze shifted to her face. Sandrone still wouldn’t look at her.
“It was supposed to be one drink,” she murmured. “Maybe two. I thought I’d message you after. Then I got annoyed at someone, and then another someone annoyed me, and then Childe kept existing, and then…” She made a weak, helpless gesture with one hand. “It became many drinks.”
Despite herself, Columbina nearly laughed. But she refused to.
Sandrone finally looked up then, eyes wide and wet around the edges. It made Columbina’s anger stumble.
“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” she said. “I really didn’t. I’m sorry, Bina.”
Columbina looked out the window. “You’re saying sorry only because you’re drunk.”
“No,” Sandrone said immediately as she leaned closer. “I’m saying sorry because you’re upset.”
“That doesn’t fix it.”
The cab hit a bump. Sandrone tipped against her, then just…stayed there, forehead pressing to Columbina’s shoulder.
Her voice was muffled when she spoke again.
“I’m really sorry. Bina, please don’t be mad anymore.”
Columbina’s fingers curled against her own knee.
She should stay mad. She wanted to stay mad. But Sandrone kept speaking in that soft, ruined voice, each word landing right where Columbina’s resolve was weakest.
“I saw your messages after Scaramouche took my phone,” Sandrone admitted. “And I felt awful.”
“You should. And you still didn’t reply.”
“I couldn’t type,” Sandrone said seriously. “The letters were moving.”
Columbina bit her cheeks to keep herself from laughing.
Sandrone tilted her head up, blinking at her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No. I’m not.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re pretty.”
Columbina turned to stare at her. Sandrone was apparently emboldened by alcohol, which mad her affectionate.
“Very pretty,” Sandrone added sincerely as she smiled at her sleepily.
Columbina looked away fast. It hurts to look away, because she absolutely wanted to see Sandrone all sweet to her like this. But Columbina was still angry.
“You can’t flirt your way out of this.”
“I’m not flirting.”
“then tell me what you’re doing now.”
Sandrone thought about that. “Then…I’m telling the truth at you.”
Columbina failed to hold back a smile this time.
Get it together Columbina. You can’t fail here. she thought to herself
Sandrone noticed instantly. Her whole face brightened up.
“There,” she said delightfully. “You finally smiled at me!”
Columbina pressed her lips together again. “Don’t get excited. I’m still upset.”
Sandrone stared at her for a moment. Then carefully, she lifted a hand and touched Columbina’s cheek.
It was such a gentle gesture that Columbina almost forgot to breathe.
“I know,” Sandrone whispered. “But don’t be too upset.”
Her thumb brushed the corner of Columbina’s mouth.
“Please?”
And there was those eyes again. Soft, big and pleading. Completely unlike Sandrone on any sober day.
Columbina nearly lost the battle right there in the backseat. but then again, she had been nearly losing this whole battle right from the start.
She caught Sandrone’s wrist gently and lowered her hand. “We’re talking about this tomorrow when you’re sober.”
By the time they got to Sandrone’s apartment building, Columbina had to half-carry her out of the cab.
Sandrone’s head rested on Columbina’s shoulder the whole way to the elevator, her arms looped loosely around Columbina’s neck from behind as Columbina carried her in a piggyback.
By the time they reached Sandrone’s door, Columbina fumbled with keys, bag, and her dignity.
“Sandrone” Columbina muttered. “You’re making this harder.”
Sandrone only murmured intangible noises.
“Are you sorry for what you did?”
“So sorry.”
“Mm.”
“Very, very sorry.”
Columbina unlocked the door and guided her inside.
Sandrone’s apartment was neat as always, everything in its place, every book stacked precisely, every surface clean.
The contrast between the room and the woman draped around Columbina like an overaffectionate cat was absurd.
“Sit down,” Columbina said, leading her to the couch.
Sandrone sat, then immediately grabbed Columbina’s hand before she could step away.
“No.”
Columbina looked down at the fingers wrapped around hers. “No what?”
“No leaving.”
“I’m getting you water.”
“You can get it later.”
“You need water now.”
“You need to stay here right now,” Sandrone countered.
Columbina sighed. “Sandrone.”
Sandrone looked up at her with those terrible eyes again.
“Please.”
It was one word. Barely above a whisper. and Columbina caved again. “One minute.”
Sandrone shifted instantly, turning into her and burying her face against Columbina’s neck again.
“Oh, you clingy little thing,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
Sandrone made a happy sound at the back of her throat and tightened her arms around Columbina’s waist.
“I missed you so much,”
Columbina’s heart squeezed.
“You saw me this morning,”
“Still missed you,”
Sandrone’s breath was warm against her skin. Her voice had gone all sweet and sleepy. Every word sounded like it had to be pulled out of the center of her chest.
Columbina closed her eyes for a second.
“Do you know how worried I was?” she asked quietly.
Sandrone nodded against her shoulder. “Yes.”
“I was imagining horrible things.”
Another nod.
“You scared me.”
Sandrone lifted her head then, and the look on her face made Columbina ache.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispered. She looked and sounded genuinely remorseful.
Then she brought both hands up and cupped Columbina’s face with startling tenderness.
“I don’t like making you sad.”
Columbina’s breath caught.
Sandrone leaned in and pressed a clumsy kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Then another to her cheek. Then another to the other cheek. Each one soft, slow and affectionate.
“Sandr-“
“Shh let me apologize,” Sandrone murmured.
“this is not how apologies work.”
“but this is how you always do it,” Sandrone kissed her forehead.
Columbina made a strangled little laugh and tried to push her back by the shoulders, but Sandrone just followed, still clinging to her tightly.
“I’m serious,” Columbina said, though there was no edge left in it. “You can’t just kiss me until I forgive you.”
“why not?” then sincerity, “Can I hug you until you forgive me?”
Sandrone stared at her, looking all pleading and unbearably cute.
“Bina,” she said in a soft voice, “please don’t be mad anymore. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Columbina had always known Sandrone loved intensely. She just usually hid it behind mean remarks, crossed arms, and disdain that scared everyone else away.
But drunk Sandrone was all that love with nowhere to hide.
It was evident in the way she held on too tightly. In the way her voice shook at the thought of Columbina being upset with her. And in the way she kept looking at Columbina like her forgiveness was the only thing keeping the world in place.
Columbina touched her face and Sandrone instantly leaned into her hand.
“You’re cruel,” Columbina whispered.
Sandrone blinked. “Me?”
“Yes. being all sweet to me like that.”
“I can stop.”
“No, you can’t.”
“No,” Sandrone admitted. “I can’t. Not right now, so you better enjoy it.”
That made Columbina laugh.
Sandrone’s eyes widened. “Does that mean…”
“It means,” Columbina said, “that I’m still upset, but I’m not going to keep fighting you while you’re like this.”
Sandrone lit up. “So you forgive me a little?”
“A little.”
Sandrone immediately wrapped her arms around Columbina’s neck again and squeezed tightly.
“Ack-Sandr-“
“I love you,” Sandrone said into her shoulder. She sounded very much in love.
Columbina went still. Because Sandrone rarely said it first.
Not because she didn’t feel it. Columbina knew she did. Sandrone showed it in a hundred careful ways.
like when Sandrone baked Columbina’s favorite sweets, bought her food while she reviewed for exams, fixed things before she asked, remembered details nobody else did, sent her articles at two in the morning because they made her think of her and stood just a little closer in crowded spaces.
But saying ‘i love you’ plainly like that? That was rare.
And now here she was, drunk and warm and clinging, saying it like it was the easiest truth in the world.
“I love you,” Sandrone repeated. “Even when you’re scary.”
Columbina let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m scary? Have you met you?”
“When you’re disappointed and angry, yes, you’re definitely scary.”
“You should be scared.”
“I am,” Sandrone said, then tilted her head back to look at her. “But mostly I’m sorry.”
Columbina studied her face, then she sighed and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” she murmured.
Sandrone smiled, small and sleepy. “Maybe some idea.”
“Not enough.”
“Then tell me.”
Columbina hesitated for a second.
Then, because it was late, because she was tired, because Sandrone was looking at her so softly that honesty felt inevitable, she finally said,
“When you don’t reply, I worry. More than I should, maybe, but I do. And when I care that much and then find out from someone else that you’re drunk and needed me…” She swallowed. “It hurts. Because I want to be the person you tell. Not the person who finds out after.”
Sandrone’s expression changed. the drunken haze didn’t disappear, but something inside made it look bearable. It looked like understanding.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Columbina nodded once. Sandrone’s hands slipped down from her neck to hold both of her hands.
“I want you to be that person,” she said softly. “You are that person.”
“Then act like it.”
“I will.” Sandrone squeezed her fingers. “Tomorrow, when I’m miserable and have a headache and you mock me for my life choices, I’ll still say sorry. Properly.”
Columbina smiled despite herself. “I will absolutely mock you.”
“You can. I deserve it.”
Sandrone leaned in again, nose brushing Columbina’s. “Will you stay tonight?”
“Do you need me to?”
Sandrone’s face softened.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”
Whatever scraps of stubborn anger Columbina had been holding onto melted completely.
She pressed a long kiss to Sandrone’s forehead, then to her temple, then finally, to her lips.
Sandrone sighed into it like relief. When Columbina pulled back, Sandrone followed her instantly, chasing another kiss.
Columbina laughed under her breath and gave it to her.
Then another, because Sandrone made that needy little sound again.
And another, because apparently she was weak.
“This is bribery,” Columbina murmured against her lips.
Sandrone’s arms slid around her neck. “It’s love.”
“You are so drunk.”
“And so in love with you.”
Columbina closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against hers again.
“didn’t take you for the type to be a hopeless romantic” she said fondly.
Sandrone nodded. “I’m not. but I’m yours.”
That made Columbina’s entire chest ache.
“you’re mine,” she agreed softly.
Sandrone smiled like she’d been handed the moon. Then, because she clearly wasn’t done being impossibly clingy, she tucked her face into Columbina’s neck again and murmured, “Don’t leave. Okay?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Sandrone relaxed at once. The tension drained out of her in pieces. That was the only answer she’d needed all night.
Columbina rubbed slow circles over her back. “But first, water.”
Twenty minutes later, Sandrone was in an oversized sleep shirt, her makeup washed off, hair half-brushed and giving up on dignity.
Columbina had managed to get water into her and, after a dramatic amount of negotiation, she made sandrone ate three crackers.
Now they were in bed with lights off except for the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Sandrone was tucked against Columbina’s side under the blanket, one leg slung over hers, one arm around her waist, even in sleep she was physically incapable of not clinging.
Columbina lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.
“I was really mad at you,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Sandrone mumbled while her eyes were already half-closed.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“And tomorrow I’m bringing it up again.”
“You should.”
Columbina turned her head to look at her. Sandrone’s lashes fluttered. She looked soft like this. Vulnerable like she never let herself be during the day.
“I’m sorry,” Sandrone said again, barely audible now. “I should’ve told you.”
Columbina brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Yes.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Yes.”
Sandrone cracked one eye open. “Are you going to say anything besides yes?”
Columbina smiled faintly. “I’m considering it.”
Sandrone huffed and buried her face against Columbina’s shoulder. “Mean.”
“Mm.”
After a moment, Columbina softened. Her fingers slipped into Sandrone’s hair, gently combing through it.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said. “That’s why I’m not angry in the way I could be.”
Sandrone was quiet. Then, “Are you still worried?”
“A little.”
“I’m right here.”
“You are.”
Sandrone shifted up just enough to look at her. “And you came for me.”
“Always.”
The word slipped out naturally. Sandrone’s eyes went warm and full.
“Always?” she echoed.
Columbina touched her cheek. “Always.”
Sandrone exhaled shakily, that answer did something to her. Then she kissed Columbina’s lips, slow and lingering.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I’d always come for you too.”
Columbina turned and kissed her properly then. It was certain and full of all the things that had been jumbled up in her chest since the phone call.
She felt worry, relief, annoyance and love.
When they parted, Sandrone stayed close enough that their noses still brushed.
“I love you,” she whispered, already drifting.
Columbina kissed her temple.
“I love you too, you clingy drunk”
Sandrone made a sleepy sound of satisfaction and tightened her grip on Columbina one last time. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.
Still, even asleep, she stayed wrapped around Columbina.
Columbina looked down at her in the dim light and felt the last of her irritation dissolve.
Tomorrow, they’d talk. Tomorrow, Sandrone would wake up embarrassed and aching and probably try to pretend none of this had happened until Columbina repeated every sweet, clingy thing she’d said just to watch her die of shame.
Tomorrow, Columbina would make her explain and make her promise.
But tonight, Sandrone was safe. And tonight, she was here.
Columbina adjusted the blanket over them both, pressed one more lingering kiss into Sandrone’s hair, and let herself hold her close.
“You’re impossible to deal with,” she whispered
Sandrone was already half-asleep and unaware. She only nuzzled closer. She was stubborn even in sleep, as if the world itself will bend around her whims.
Columbina exhaled a quiet laugh. “And you know I will anyway.”
She tightened her arms around her girlfriend and finally let her eyes close, as she followed her into sleep.