Oneshot Collection

Colors: Sophiana

I wrote fluff. For the first time in AGES-

Pretty short. Enjoy

"What's your favorite color?"

The question is sudden, and part of Sophie doesn't want to answer.

She shouldn't answer. Shouldn't put herself through this.

But her answer still dangles in front of her, tempting her with the possibilities it whispers in her ear.

Just a simple question, with an answer that is anything but.

Sophie says nothing, but a blush creeps up her cheeks as she studies Biana's face nervously. There is nothing there but curiosity, her pink lips pursed, fingers absently fiddling with the edge of her shirt.

They are friends, only friends, Sophie reminds herself. That's all they will ever be, and venturing down the road that the words forming on her lips will take them is a terrible idea.

And yet Sophie still says them, because she has never been one for self-control. Or thinking ahead. Particularly not where Biana is involved.

(maybe she wants to ruin everything, or maybe she thinks that if she finally tells the truth, everything can be fixed)

"Your eyes," Sophie whispers, and then she is staring into them. And then they are closer than they were before, and Biana's hand isn't fiddling with her shirt, it's covering her rosebud mouth, as if trying to hide a smile. "Your eyes are my favorite color."

(the sea when sunlight hits it. a leaf covered in dewdrops, reflecting the sky. a raindrop, a tear, ice forming over moss, a promise not yet formed, a dream and a wish swirled into one)

And Biana's hands are cool as they cup her warm cheeks. "Do you know what my favorite color is?"

Sophie has to laugh, because how could she not? "Pink like a sunset, pink like a rose," she answers, repeating what Biana once told her. "Soft like the morning sky, bright like a star."

Biana grins, and Sophie thinks that even the most beautiful sunset is erased by this new beauty. "Pink," Biana agrees. "Pink like your cheeks when you're flustered. Pink like your fingertips braiding through my hair. Pink like your lips, pressed together right now as if all you want to do is kiss me but you aren't sure whether or not I'll kiss you back."

Sophie's lips are, indeed, pressed tightly together. And maybe her eyes have drifted down to Biana's mouth, still softly speaking.

"In case you were wondering," Biana continues, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth, "I would kiss you back. If you were to—"

And then Sophie's lips are touching hers and Bianas words are swallowed back down as her fingers weave into Sophie's hair.

And Sophie hardly remembers a minute ago when she was reminding herself why this would be a bad idea.

But all her protests are swirling away because damn, if Biana's lips aren't the softest thing she's ever felt.

And so she falls into the ocean of loving her, lets herself tumble down into the deep. Drowns herself in the feeling of Biana's scarred skin under her fingers and her warm breath ghosting over Sophie's cheeks and the dark curls spilling over her shoulder.

Because this, Sophie thinks breathlessly, is worth drowning for.

FLUFF