temporary heroes

chapter 6

Mandatory disclaimer that this chapter is extremely smutty so seriously 18+ (I'm not exaggerating, there are literally 3,162 words aka 11 pages of pure smut). Tori and Emily's song is All About Us by tATu because fuck actually writing a song for them (I'm lazy) so listen as you read for the immaculate 2005 Eurovision grand final vibes. Thank you to everyone who read, voted, and commented; this is definitely the weirdest story I've ever written but it's my favourite.

"Girls?" Agnes called out, bursting into the room in a tailored skirt suit that looked like it had been stolen off of the set of Ally McBeal, "How are my two favourite international sensations?"

"Great, Agnes!" Emily replied, cutting off Tori's shout of, "Did someone die?"

Seeing Agnes in such high spirits was jarring, to say the least.

"Nobody died," Agnes smiled tightly, "You two are the first of my girls to make it to the grand final. Do you know how long I've been working for this?"

Agnes looked at her expectantly and Emily gave her a nudge in the side, prompting her to answer the question.

"Oh, sorry," she chuckled awkwardly, "I thought you were gonna..."

"Thirty-six years, Victoria. I'm not sure how either of you pulled this off; Lord knows you're two of the most unlikely candidates for the job. I would go as far as to say that not a single citizen of our great nation thought you would make it through the Melfest finals, but —"

"Oh, for the love of God," Tori sighed, bringing her fingers to her temples, "Doesn't it get tiring? Spending all this time reminding me that I don't deserve to be here?"

"Let me finish. I'm pleased with you, Victoria," she pulled a thick stack of envelopes bound by an elastic band out of her purse and handed it to Tori, "Both of you. And you should be proud of yourselves."

That afternoon, as Emily showered in their shared bathroom, Tori tore open one of the envelopes, pulling out a sheet of folded notebook paper.

Tori and Emily,

Thank you for showing the world that people like us can be anything we want to be. That our love is beautiful and it matters. I'm still in school right now, but when I'm older I hope I'll be able to be brave like you.

I can't wait to watch you win,

Allie

ps. You're both super hot. Next time you're in Borlänge, please marry me (both of you).

She reread the postscript, laughing out loud in disbelief before the rest of the letter began to sink in. It had never registered to Tori before that this tiny, irrelevant part of her that she'd ignored for so long could actually mean something. Could mean that she belonged to some weird little family of strangers, people like us, who felt the things she felt. The things she'd spent her life believing she wasn't capable of feeling.

But some kid in Borlänge had watched her and Emily on TV and seen herself in them and Tori knew that she'd reached her tipping point; it was harder now to deny the truth than it was to accept it. Tori was like the girl from the letter, like Emily, and it was true that what she felt for Emily mattered. It was as involuntary as her own heartbeat; a mosaic of striate tissue steadily thrumming Emily's name into her bloodstream when all she'd asked for was the necessary oxygen.

"I'm gay," she whispered, tasting the word on her tongue, trying it on for size. She closed her eyes and pressed on, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it herself, "And I like Emily."

The last part felt inadequate, like calling a thunderstorm a light drizzle, so Tori took a deep breath, exhaling, "I love her," like smoke and before she had time to process the gravity of it, the bathroom door was flung open and Emily stepped out.