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"Wh— Needle!"
Book gasped, as Needle slid out bottle after bottle from under the crate she had once kept them hidden.
"Shh!" she urged, looking up quickly and placing a finger over Book's lips. "I don't need anyone else knowing about this."
Resuming her earlier actions, Needle retracted her finger from Book's mouth. Though, her mark was left; unforgotten in the form of a faint red across Book's cheeks. She wanted to ignore it. She looked around.
When Needle had brought her to this alleyway, the sun was still in the sky, if barely. Now.. it was a dark, green night. It was quiet. The frozen silence hung above them like thick smoke, but they had no choice but to breathe it in. Book's eyebrows furrowed.
"Needle, it's late, and we're in a random, tiny alleyway. Do you really think people will hear us—or even more—care?" Despite her argument against quiet, her tone was one of a small, yet passionate whisper.
In response, she received a blink, and for a few seconds, Book worried that that would be all, as Needle flicked back to her activity.
"Whatever. Look: I'm done." She had spoken a little louder.
Standing tall amidst the sea of concrete were twelve glimmering bottles, each of them filled to the brim with purple liquid. Against the sliver of moonlight that seeped into the hall, they shined, and Book wondered how she couldn't be captivated by such a sight.
"Wow.. that's so…" she trailed off, before her brain caught up. "Where do you even get all of this alcohol? It's not allowed on the show." Her gaze flickered to Needle.
"I.." Needle began. She diverted her eyes sheepishly. "It's—well, okay, nothing crazy really. I've just been.. collecting. For a while now."
"A while?" Book cocked an eyebrow. "How long have you been building this? Why are you just now showing me?"
"I was waiting for the right moment. As for how long I've been collecting, well.. maybe…" she looked up, thinking.
"…another secret."
"Oh—come on!" Book whined, barely able to stifle her giggles. Similarly, Needle had her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were creased. Though, it really didn't do much; Book could sense Needle's smile from a mile away. How could she not? The sight had burned itself into her mind ages ago.
She set her laughter free. And, shortly after, Needle followed suit. It was harder not to. Book had the kind of contagious laugh that could light up a crowd. Well—that's what Needle thought, at least.
Joy was a light, feathery feeling. It's gleaming presence had filled the place of the heavy smoke that had once plagued them. It felt good to be there, in that space, together, like the rest of the world had washed away. It felt good to let go.
"Okay, okay," Needle managed through chuckles. "Let me try one first. I brought all of it, after all."
The lid of the bottle in her hands was already screwed off and tossed aside by the time she had finished her sentence. Book's eyes widened, but she couldn't get a word out before Needle had thrown her head back and gulped it down.
"Geez— you're acting like we have a curfew!"
Swallowing the last of her chug, the bottle met the ground, and Needle wiped her mouth off with her arm. The darkened, tired glint she had in her eye for just a second made Book's head spin.
"I've been waiting for this, alright?"
"Y-yeah, for the right moment, whatever," Book mumbled, averting her eyes and reaching for a bottle. "What is this, anyway?"
"Some kind of yoyleberry flavored drink, I assume," Needle responded, as Book turned it around in her hand. "I found it by some of Golf Ball's stuff, and, well…"
She looked away, squinting. "Finders keepers, right?"
Book smiled. "You shouldn't be stealing, Needle." She took off the lid and took a slow, small sip.
"Hey!" she barked. "You're drinking it. Now you're an accomplice!"
Book couldn't hold back her laughter that time. "Oh—partners in crime now, are we?" She took another, larger sip, and Needle followed with the drink of her own.
"Your words, not mine."
It wasn't long until the minutes began to meld together, until the sky was pitch black, until nothing besides them mattered anymore. Empty bottles piled around them, and their giggles had soon become much more frequent a sound. What a perfect night it was, really; at least to Book. It felt good to be so carefree.
Each movement grew looser, and they flowed like the drink encased inside the glasses. The world had felt.. warmer, as time passed.
"Needle," Book said, voice wobbly.
"Hm?"
"Thanks for this. Thanks for.. for…. bringing me here. Thanks."
Needle looked down, smiling. "Thank you. You're.. just.. Book, you're so……. thank you for caring so much."
"Huh? Needle, I—of course I care! Why are you.. why…" she paused, lost in thought. "…don't thank me for that." She grabbed a new bottle and opened it on autopilot, flicking the cap back and taking a swig without a single thought.
"Ah.. Book, haha.." Needle breathed out. "You say things like that all the time, and I feel… it's so…"
She huffed and studied the concrete for a moment, eyes narrowing.
"…I don't even know."
Book began to laugh, hard. "Needle, what do you mean? My word, you just.. you're funny. I'm glad to be your friend."
She reached over to grab her drink, and when she caught a glimpse of Needle's face, she swore she saw her blushing. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. Maybe Needle was flushed from the alcohol, or maybe Book had had too many drinks herself. Regardless, butterflies fluttered through her stomach at the possibility that Needle could be blushing because of… because of something that Book had said.
No. There was no way. She lifted the bottle to get a sip, but before the glass could reach her lips—
—Needle had swiped it out of her hands, and chugged it down!
"Hey! What was that f—"
"Look!" Needle gestured towards the mere two bottles left. "I-I wanna save those, I think. For.. for another time."
Book just stared, for a second. At the way the moon's light hit her flawlessly; at the way she looked so gorgeous right then, but also every other time she saw her, Needle was just… Book felt warmth flood her body, and she smiled a big, stupid grin.
"Hah, yeah. It's perfect, too. One for me, and one for you." Her words were slow, and drawn out. Each second seemed to pass.. slower, just by a bit.
"Exactly. Whichever one you want, Book… it'd be yours…"
Figuring she might elaborate, Book stayed quiet. She got no such explanation.
"Needle, they're both… they're both the same. Why would it even matter?" Giggles rose from her chest once again, and she looked up to meet Needle's gaze, to really look her in the eyes. There was no response.
Normally, such a moment would've been awkward. A lull in the conversation. But, right then, when their minds were fuzzy, and their eyes were locked on each other, it felt… okay. Everything was okay.
Needle was staring. Book wasn't quite sure why, or how, but since she last spoke, Needle hadn't stopped staring. Maybe she was getting tired. Maybe she was just zoning out, eyes slowly glazing over from Book's eyes to her nose to her lips and to her hair, but she was staring. And, well, of course Book was too.
No one had ever gotten to see Needle in such a way—so raw, and so frazzled, and so, so pretty… Book broke out into a big smile, again.
"You should… Needle, you… you know how beautiful you are, right?"
Needle's face went red, undeniably because of Book's words that time. Book felt her heart pound.
"I… Boookkkk….." she pushed her face into her palms. "Gosh, you make me feel like… like…."
Book furrowed her eyebrows. Time was definitely moving slower now, it had to be. Everything felt so.. so hot, and calm, yet restless, and her heart nearly bounced out of her chest with every slow beat. What was Needle even.. talking about…
A stunningly lovely sound—Needle's laugh. "I—gh, sometimes I think about this, and—and… Book, I think if…."
She looked up at the wall behind Book, still giggling, if slightly.
"I think I would date you if you were a boy."
Book's breath hitched.
"Wh— if I… Needle…"
How was she supposed to feel? Book had barely felt anything but buzzy, light joy for.. hours, and suddenly, these words were… they were…
"I know, it's so silly, but you're just so kind, and funny, and smart, and—"
No.
Book had tuned her out. No. She couldn't listen anymore.
She'd drunken too much—she must've—she felt like she could throw up, the illness and the dizziness and the ache swarming and melting together in her body.
Her mind was full—so full, and racing, and yet, she felt like she could float and fly away if she needed to. She wished she could. She definitely needed to.
Book didn't know if Needle's rambling made it better or worse as she thought, thought, thought, thought hard for a response, searched through every corner of her mind. What was she even supposed to say here? How was she meant to grapple with this.. this hurt and this.. this……
"and, that's all, I guess. I just…" Needle's voice weaved it's way back into her mind.
Book's heart was quickening, her palms growing slick.
"…I like you more than I should, and—"
"Okay, imagine I'm a boy. Then what?"
The words had left her quickly. Book's voice was the roughest, yet most shaky it had been all night.
Needle was silent for a few seconds. Book couldn't bring herself to meet her gaze.
"Well… well I'd.. I'd have a crush on you, first of all."
It felt like there was a knife lodged into Book's chest that was twisting. Twisting, twisting, twisting.
She spoke anyway. "Then what?"
"Then I would…. I would probably ask you out. Or.. maybe… maybe you'd ask me, and… and then…."
A sickening quiet settled between them, before being broken by Book again.
"…then?"
Slowly, Book lifted her head and looked into Needle's eyes. They looked like they'd been waiting for her gaze.
"I'd…"
Needle shifted closer, until their breaths mingled. Until their knees touched. Until only a few inches could keep them apart. Slowly, Needle's hands climbed up Book's body, and they cupped her face.
They felt perfect there. Book hated how perfect they felt there. How fireworks exploded in her stomach.
"If you were a boy, Book, I'd…"
The space between them closed.
Needle's lips were soft, and fitting, and everything Book imagined them to be. Her mouth tasted like the alcohol they'd been drinking, and their teeth would clack or their noses would hit every few seconds. That could barely register in either of their minds.
If Book thought she felt hot before, she must've been set on fire now. Everything was so, so, so, so warm. Stuffy. Her breath had been ripped away ages ago, and she barely wanted it back. She'd suffocate here, in Needle's grasp. She would.
Book had played this moment out in her head about a thousand times. Different scenarios, and settings, and circumstances, but not in a single one did she ever feel so bittersweet. She didn't know if she'd ever felt so much pain and so much joy at the same time in her life, actually.
Needle was kissing her. Needle had leaned in and grabbed her face and kissed her and now their mouths were pressed together, lips melting to one, but Needle was also… she.. Book couldn't even think the words.
Before they broke apart, Needle pressed in a little deeper, and shifted her hands to the back of her head. Quickly, Book wrapped her hands around her waist, desperate to be closer, to be anything—
—but they'd severed. Their hands were still in place, and they'd barely moved their faces apart, but their lips weren't together. They panted, clinging to each other like they were all they had.
"N.. Needle…"
As Book stared into her eyes, there was a specific glint—a gleam, Needle looked almost... afraid, of what she had done. Something deep inside of Book shattered.
The cogs in Book's blurry, fuzzy mind kept turning. They ticked on, and on, and on, and eventually, she'd lost sense of a bad and a good idea. Her nerves dissipated.
"Then what?"
Needle's eyes darted around Book's face, before she got closer, until their noses brushed.
"This.." she whispered, and suddenly, their lips had met again, with more force and vigor than Book had ever felt.
It took her a second, but Book managed to match her speed—the passion came quickly. Needle's mouth moved against hers quickly, and roughly, and it was fun if Book let go. When she let the rest of the world, and the future, and the past wash away. If she could never have Needle again, then she'd better have her now.
Book's hands pressed further into Needle's back, digging into the fabric of her shirt and into her skin. She ripped their mouths away for only a second—giving them both enough time for air—before they dove in again. Evident from the gasp that'd slipped from Needle's lips, she wasn't expecting her fervor and more from Book, but then evident from the way she'd sunk into their kisses, she also liked it.
Desperate. Book's movements, her lips, her hands, her being—desperate. For more Needle. As much Needle as she could have. So, she pressed her tongue against Needle's lips. Instantly, she was let in.
They scavenged each other. Completely and utterly, they memorized every ridge and detail of each other's mouths. Everything felt so warm. Messy. Pounding. Their racing hearts beat against each other like raging drums.
Kissing Needle was more than a mind-boggling experience. She felt like every nerve in her body was on fire. Every little movement of Needle's hands, every time she pressed in deeper, every time she brought them closer—it hit all of her senses like a train. Mouths still intertwined, Book's fingers dug deeper into Needle's back, and when Needle reciprocated the action, she felt her heart explode.
Book wanted more. She wanted to kiss Needle forever. She wanted to kiss Needle until her heart stopped beating and mouth fell off. She wanted to kiss Needle for as long as the universe would let her. But, as their energy began to run short, with weakening mouths, and slowing hands, eventually—
"Sewing store, Book," Needle muttered, their lips breaking apart. Everything felt so… so.. so much. So, so, so warm. Feverish. Book's hands were left frozen up Needle's shoulders, and Needle's lingered against the back of her head, tangled through her hair. Book didn't care. She couldn't. Needle could mess with her hair however she wanted. Who was she to deny her?
Faces barely apart, their panting, heavy breaths mixed into each other.
"I'm… Book, I'm going… going to bed…" she huffed. The words barely registered in Book's mind. Needle just separated from her, and curled up on the concrete. That was all.
Everything was blurred. It was foggy. Hazy. Book just knew that things would be different now. Needle didn't like girls. But Needle liked Book. The thought made her sick again, so she put it away, and drove her gaze to Needle's resting body. Needle was a nice sight to see.
She couldn't tell if it was the drinks hitting her a little harder now, or if it was just the rush of everything that had happened that was making the night around her spin. Maybe it was both. It was probably both. She felt like she was half alive. At least Needle seemed peaceful. She could think about that. Book didn't want to do any serious thinking ever again.
..Drinks helped with that. The two drinks. The bottles.
Book's gaze swept towards them. It wouldn't hurt.
Needle wanted them for another time. But Book didn't know if she wanted there to be another time anymore.
She picked up one of the bottles and threw off the cap, downing it quickly. Once again, minutes were melding together, she'd noticed. Nothing felt real. Not as she put down the empty bottle, and not as she picked up the last one and chugged it.
Maybe, there'd be a miracle, and Needle wouldn't remember this in the morning. They could go back to being best friends and never kiss each other or hopefully even think about kissing each other ever again. No, no, Book would definitely break that rule. Unfortunately…
Book pressed her fingers into her temples, trying to ignore the raging wildfire in her head. Her eyes darted back to Needle, and she had to tell herself not to cuddle in with her. They'd done enough. Book would be greedy if she took any more. But…
Soon, Needle's warmth was mixing with Book's once again. Her heart ached like nothing she'd ever known. The pain of having someone and losing them, simultaneously. Book was greedy.
She sighed, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the prickling tears.
She was tired. Her head was pounding.
Right now, Needle was with her. That was all she had to worry about, until the morning. Until the morning, she could stay wrapped in her, peaceful, and comfortable, and warm.
At least, that's what she told herself.