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The afternoon Sun filtered through the garage window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, glowing stars. And underneath it, Milk was sitting on an overturned amp, strumming a warm acoustic chord that echoed softly against the concrete walls.
Across from her, Love sat cross legged on a small worn out couch, hugging a faded pillow to her chest, eyes locked on to Milk.
Milk wasn't playing anything specific, just soft, wandering chords that filled the quiet garage. Her head was tilted down, hair falling forward, fingers a little clumsy on the strings whenever she glanced up and saw Love staring.
Then she suddenly stopped playing, her fingers lingering on the guitar strings. Lately, being around Love felt different. She felt tight and light at the same time, like she was holding her breath without meaning to. She had thought of all the times she had rushed into things, past relationships that burned out too fast, and the mistakes she promised herself she wouldn’t repeat.
She was terrified of ruining the best relationship she had ever had.
But looking at Love now, the fear felt smaller than the blooming in her chest.
“Why’d you stop?” Love asked softly, slightly shifting on the couch. “It sounded beautiful.”
Milk didn’t answer right away. Her fingers stayed on the strings, pressing just enough to keep them quiet. She was looking down at the worn out wood of the guitar, but she could feel Love’s eyes on her.
“Just thinking.” Milk murmured, setting the guitar carefully to the side.
“About what?” Love tilted her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder. Sunlight made the dust around her sparkle.
Milk swallowed. This was the part where she usually made a joke or changed the subject or got clumsy and knocked something over. But she didn't. She took a slow breath and looked up, and her eyes were nervous and completely honest.
“About you,” Milk admitted. “And how I keep getting scared i’m going to mess this up. Because you’re… you’re my favourite person to be around. Ever.”
Love’s eyes softened. She let go of the pillow and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
“Me too,” Love said. “ You get so quiet sometimes. I worry i’m making you nervous.”
“You do.” Milk murmured with a small, embarrassed laugh. “You always do.”
Love smiled, but her smile was a little shaky too. She had been holding something in all afternoon, watching Milk in the sunlight, watching how careful her hands were on the guitar, how her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
“Milk, can I tell you something? I’ve been wanting to say it,”
Milk finally looked up, Her dark eyes were wide, a little startled, catching the light from the window.
Love hesitated for just a second, then said it all in one soft rush, like she was scared she’d lose her courage.
“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. I swear, I never seen anything like them. And when you look at me like that, all quiet and focused, I forget how to breathe.”
Milk froze.
Her fingers slipped completely off the guitar strings with a soft, discordant twang, and the sound echoed in the quiet garage. Her eyes went wide, her lips parted, and all that cool, steady composure she always carried cracked right down the middle. Her ears turned completely red.
Love immediately started to panic. “Sorry, was that too much?”
“No,” Milk instantly said. Then she chuckled, a small, breathy, disbelieving chuckle, and looked down for a second like she couldn't believe it.
“What?” Love’s confusion was clear in her voice. “What’s funny..?”
Milk felt the last of her hesitation melt away. She smiled, her voice a gentle declaration.
“It’s funny,” Milk leaned in a bit closer. “Funny because I was thinking the exact same thing about you.”