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Kira had never needed to be the loudest person in a room.
She had Scott for sunlight, Lydia for sharp edges, Stiles for noise, and Malia for… everything else.
Malia was wild in a way Kira had never been. She took up space without apologizing for it. She laughed too loud, ate with too much enthusiasm, said exactly what she meant even when everyone else in the room winced. She didn’t know how to pretend she was smaller than she was, and Kira had loved that about her from the beginning.
At first, Malia had made Kira feel impossible to miss. She noticed when Kira’s hands shook after too much electricity crawled beneath her skin. She noticed when Kira got quiet because she was overwhelmed, not because she was upset. She noticed when Kira wore a new sweater, when she changed her hair, when she hesitated before stepping into a crowded room.
Malia noticed everything...or she used to. Lately, Kira wasn’t sure. They were at Lydia’s, surrounded by music, snacks, and rainbow decorations that Stiles had apparently ordered in bulk because “Pride deserves volume.” Scott was laughing at something Derek said. Liam and Ruby were arguing over the playlist. Lydia was wearing glitter eyeliner sharp enough to wound someone.
And Malia was across the room, talking to a girl from Isabelle's bookstore. Kira tried not to stare. She really did.
The girl was pretty. Very pretty. Confident too, with short dark hair, a leather jacket, and a laugh that made Malia grin in response. Malia kept leaning closer to hear her over the music, her face bright and attentive. Kira looked down at her own cup.
It wasn’t jealousy exactly. Not the ugly, possessive kind. Kira didn’t want to lock Malia away from the world. She loved that Malia could be so open, so fearless, so alive.
But there was a difference between watching your girlfriend talk to someone else and realizing your girlfriend had not looked for you in almost an hour.
Kira had moved three times. From the couch to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the back door. From the back door to the hallway where it was quieter and she could breathe.
Malia hadn’t noticed. That was the part that sat heavy in Kira’s chest. Not the girl. Not the flirting that maybe wasn’t flirting because Malia’s normal face sometimes looked like flirting. Not even the way Malia laughed. It was the fact that Kira had become something constant. Something expected. A lamp left on in the corner. A jacket on the chair. There, useful, familiar.
Invisible.
“Kira?” She startled and looked up as Lydia stepped into the hallway. Her expression softened immediately, which made Kira feel worse somehow.
“Hi,” Kira said, trying to smile.
Lydia glanced toward the living room, then back at her. “Do you want me to kill someone socially or emotionally?”
Kira gave a small laugh despite herself. “No.”
“Are you sure? I’m very good at both.”
“I know.”
Lydia crossed her arms, studying her with that terrifyingly accurate gaze. “Malia?”
Kira looked away. Lydia’s face softened further. “Have you told her?”
“Told her what?” Kira asked, even though she knew.
“That you feel like she’s not seeing you.”
Kira swallowed. “It sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.”
“She loves me,” Kira said quickly. “I know she does. Mostly. I mean, I think she does. It’s just…” She stopped, embarrassed by the tremble in her own voice. “She looks at everyone like they’re interesting. New. Like she wants to understand them. And with me, it’s like she already decided she knows me, so she stopped looking.”
Lydia was quiet for a moment. “That is not stupid.”
Kira pressed her fingers against the cool plastic of her cup. “I don’t want to beg my own girlfriend to notice me.”
Before Lydia could answer, Malia appeared at the end of the hallway. Her smile faded almost instantly. Kira straightened, heart jumping into her throat.
Malia looked between them, her eyebrows pulling together. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Kira said too quickly.
Malia frowned. “That’s a lie.”
Lydia lifted both hands and took a step back. “I’m going to go make sure Stiles doesn’t try to hang from anything in the name of celebration.”
“Coward,” Kira whispered.
“Strategist,” Lydia corrected, then disappeared.
Malia came closer, still frowning. She looked confused more than angry, which was somehow harder. Kira could handle anger. Confusion made her feel like she had to explain why she was hurt in a way that made sense to someone who had never meant to hurt her.
“Are you mad at me?” Malia asked.
Kira shook her head, then stopped because that was also a lie. “I don’t know.”
Malia’s frown deepened. “That’s worse.”
Kira looked at her, really looked at her. Malia’s hair was messy from dancing. She had a rainbow sticker stuck crookedly near her collarbone, and there was a smear of frosting on her thumb. She was beautiful in the wild, careless way she always was. Kira loved her so much it hurt.
“I feel invisible,” Kira said softly.
Malia blinked. “You’re not invisible. People can see you.”
“I know I’m physically visible, Malia.”
“What do you mean then?”
Kira let out a tired breath. “I don’t know.”
Malia stepped closer, but Kira took half a step back before she could stop herself. Malia froze immediately, her expression shifting into something startled and wounded.
“I don’t understand,” Malia said, quieter now.
Kira wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s the problem. I don’t think you noticed there was anything to understand.”
Malia’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked genuinely lost. Kira forced herself to continue before she lost the nerve. “When we first started dating, you noticed everything about me. You made me feel like I mattered even when I didn’t know how to ask for that. But lately, it feels like I’m just… there. Like I’m part of the background now.”
“You’re not background.”
“You didn’t even notice I left the room...twice.”
Malia’s face changed. Not guilt exactly, but recognition. Kira’s eyes burned, and she looked down fast. “You were talking to that girl, and I’m not saying you did anything wrong. You can talk to people. You should talk to people. I don’t want to be that girlfriend. But I kept waiting for you to look for me. Just once.”
Malia was silent. Kira nodded to herself, embarrassed now that the words were out. “And you didn’t.”
Malia’s hands curled at her sides. “I thought you were okay.”
Kira laughed softly, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Because I always seem okay?”
“No.” Malia looked frustrated, but mostly with herself. “Because you were here. Because you’re always here.”
Kira flinched. Malia caught it and immediately shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean… you’re steady. You’re safe. When I look around a room and you’re there, my brain goes calm. Like, okay, Kira’s here. Everything is okay.”
Kira looked up at her. Malia swallowed, struggling through the words in that blunt, honest way that made her seem younger sometimes. “I didn’t know that made you feel ignored. I thought… I thought trusting you were there was good.”
“It is,” Kira said, her voice breaking a little. “But I don’t want to only be safe. I don’t want to only be the person you come back to after you’re done noticing everyone else.”
Malia stared at her, and for once, she didn’t answer right away. The party noise filled the silence between them. Laughter. Music. Stiles yelling something about bisexual lighting.
Then Malia looked toward the living room, then back at Kira.
“I’m bad at this,” she said.
Kira’s chest tightened. “At what?”
“At knowing when love is supposed to be said out loud again.” Malia’s voice was rough with effort. “Coyotes don’t do all this. We know who’s pack. We know who matters. We don’t keep proving it every day because it’s just true.”
Kira wiped quickly at one eye. “I’m not a coyote.”
“I know.”
“And I can’t smell feelings the way you can.”
“I know.”
“And sometimes I need you to choose me where I can see it.”
Malia’s face crumpled slightly, just enough to make Kira’s heart ache. “I do choose you.”
“I need to feel it.”
Malia nodded slowly. Then she held out her hand. Kira looked at it. Malia’s fingers were strong and familiar, a little sticky from frosting, nails short and uneven because she still picked at them when she was anxious. That hand had pulled Kira out of fights, tugged her into kisses, stolen fries from her plate, rested against the small of her back like it belonged there.
“Take my hand,” Malia said.
Kira’s breath caught. “Malia…”
“Please,” Malia said, and there was nothing careless in her now. No distraction. No room full of other people. Her eyes were fixed on Kira like Kira was the only thing in the world worth tracking. “Take my hand.”
Kira hesitated for one more second, then placed her hand in Malia’s. Malia closed her fingers around hers carefully, like she was holding something precious and breakable, even though Kira had lightning in her bones and a fox curled bright beneath her skin.
“I’m sorry,” Malia said.
Kira squeezed her hand. Malia stepped closer, slow enough that Kira could move away if she wanted. She didn’t.
“I didn’t stop seeing you,” Malia said. “But I think I stopped showing you that I was looking.”
Kira’s throat tightened. Malia glanced down at their joined hands. “That’s different. But it still hurt you.”
“Yes,” Kira whispered.
Malia nodded once, accepting it. No arguing. No defending. “I can fix that.”
Kira gave her a sad little smile. “You don’t have to fix everything tonight.”
“I want to start tonight.”
Before Kira could ask what she meant, Malia tugged gently on her hand and led her back toward the living room. Kira resisted at the doorway, suddenly nervous. “What are you doing?”
Malia looked back at her. “Choosing you where you can see it.”
Malia walked into the room still holding her hand. It should not have felt revolutionary. They had been dating for a year and a half. Everyone knew. Their friends knew. The pack knew. Parents knew. But Malia wasn’t always openly affectionate in crowded spaces unless she was acting on impulse. Sometimes she forgot. Sometimes she assumed Kira knew.
This time, she didn’t assume. She brought Kira right into the center of the room, past Stiles and Scott and the girl in the leather jacket. She didn’t drop Kira’s hand. She didn’t loosen her grip.
Stiles glanced over, opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever joke was forming. Scott smiled softly. Lydia, from the kitchen, looked unbearably smug.
Malia turned to Kira. “Dance with me.”
Kira blinked. “I'm bad at dancing.”
Malia shrugged. “I don't care.”
Kira laughed. Malia’s eyes lit up at the sound, like she had been waiting for it. She pulled Kira closer, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other settling at her waist. Kira rested her free hand against Malia’s shoulder.
For a little while, they moved badly to the music. Malia stepped on her foot once and cursed. Kira laughed again. Malia apologized with a kiss pressed to her knuckles.
Later, when the song changed into something slower, Malia leaned closer.
“I love you,” she said, near Kira’s ear. Kira closed her eyes. Malia’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand. Kira opened her eyes and found Malia watching her. Really watching her.
“I love you too,” Kira said.
Malia smiled, small and relieved. “Even when I’m stupid?”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I was tonight.”
Kira smiled despite herself and rested her forehead against Malia’s. The party kept moving around them, bright and loud and full of color, but Kira didn’t feel swallowed by it anymore. She didn’t feel like a quiet fox fading at the edges. Malia’s hand stayed firm around hers.
And this time, when Kira looked at her girlfriend, Malia was already looking back.