Tori didn't sleep that night. Emily drifted off some time between three and four, forgoing her pillow to lay her head in Tori's lap while Tori sat up with her back against the headboard, trying desperately to steady herself. Tori had her fair share of faults, she wouldn't argue that, but she wasn't an idiot and the mental gymnastics she was engaging in to rationalize the way she felt about Emily were frankly fucking pathetic.
She was a grown fucking woman. She didn't melt over girls in bathrooms calling her pretty and she certainly didn't stare at hotel walls for hours questioning her sanity over slurred, incoherent confessions of love. So maybe what she felt for Emily wasn't just this deep well of platonic affection and good old fashioned fuck the patriarchy female empowerment or whatever she'd deluded herself into thinking it was.
She remembered the time Emily had undressed in front of her and how she'd chalked her over-the-top discomfort up to jealousy. If it were anybody else, Tori would have recognized the feeling as attraction, but with Emily she'd fully fucking gaslit herself into believing otherwise. Why was Emily so different? Acknowledging it didn't mean she had to act on it. It wasn't like she threw herself at everyone with a nice body.
She wasn't sure when it happened; when this thing with Emily felt less like friendship and more like resisting the urge to give in. As if it were inevitable, somehow, that she'd end up in Emily's arms if she stopped fighting it. It wasn't, she reminded herself. There were so many reasons that she and Emily would never cross that line, but every time she looked down to see Emily sleeping peacefully in her lap she was reminded of how much she wished she could keep her like this. Close. Tori had never wanted that so desperately before.
Emily stirred, her forehead creasing. "Fuck," she mumbled, her voice hoarse and thick with sleep, "What happened last night?"
Tori adjusted her posture, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Emily was laying in her lap.
"No idea. I think Scott fucking... roofied you or whatever."
It wasn't the most delicate way to put it, but Tori was exhausted, barely able to keep herself from drifting off.
Emily's eyes shot open.
"Scott wouldn't."
"Scott did, Emily," Tori snapped, "You were like, fucking incoherent and I've been up all night trying to decide whether or not I needed to take you to a fucking hospital. Do they even have ambulances here?"
Emily pulled away, sitting up and wincing in the process, "I'm sure they do, but —"
"Emily!"
"I'm sorry," Emily sighed, her eyes downcast, "I don't know what to say. Are you alright?"
"Why are you asking if I'm alright?" Tori balked before sucking in a laboured breath and trying to soften her tone, "It's not your fault, alright? He's a piece of shit."
"It's not that, I just," she swallowed, looking away, "It feels like you keep having to look after me. I mean, ever since we met I've just been this massive inconvenience for you."
Tori reached out to place a hand on Emily's shoulder, "Oh, come on, Em. No. I'm so glad you're here."
Emily looked at her with trepidation, "Really?"
Tori forced a smile, "Yeah. Let's get breakfast delivered. That spinach quiche shit you love."
"It's a frittata," Emily replied weakly, "There's no crust."
Tori placed the order — not a quiche, a frittata — and the two of them ate in silence. She'd called Chris to cancel their rehearsal, citing a personal crisis and rolling her eyes when he just chuckled and teased, "Trouble in paradise?"
When the call dropped, she finally closed her eyes. It felt less like falling asleep and more like being forcibly slammed into unconsciousness by the week's events. By life, her unrelenting opponent — always taking more than it gave back, always leaving her reeling, holding her head and searching desperately for a flat plane to find her footing. It was a theatrical view to hold, but the constant confusion and turmoil were getting exhausting. She'd always felt that she was supposed to have it all figured out by now. As if one day she'd fall asleep herself and wake up well-rested with a mortgage, a white picket fence, and a family. She didn't want to be angry, but it was better than the alternative. It was easier than admitting she was scared.
She dreamt of Emily; Emily's lips on her neck, the ghost of her touch on Tori's skin pulsing and hot. The cold metal of the stacked silver rings that decorated Emily's slender fingers branding her hips as she pushed her down and pulled her closer. In the dream, Emily laughed, sweet and melodic, and Tori jolted awake with a lump in her throat.
She sat up quickly, catching her breath and willing her tired eyes to bring the room back into focus. Emily was still sitting on the edge of the bed, her takeaway container discarded beside her.
"Em?" Tori mumbled, "How long was I out? I forgot to set an alarm."
Emily didn't turn, only sniffled and brought her hands to her face, frantically wiping at her cheeks. Tori crawled forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently turning her around, taking in her reddened eyes and the tear tracks below them. She felt something inside of her tense, a tangible tightness in her chest; restrictive and suffocating.
"Hey," she comforted her, wrapping her arms around Emily and letting her head fall against her shoulder, "It's okay."
"It's not okay," Emily choked out, her voice pitched high.
Tori pulled back, "No. It's not okay."
"It's not okay," Emily repeated, a little firmer this time, and Tori found herself wanting to hear Emily say it again. Wanting her to scream it from the rooftops until she really believed that she deserved better than men like Scott, or even women like Tori if Tori was being completely honest with herself.
"Don't let anybody make you feel small, Emily," Tori spoke seriously, still unsure where any of this was coming from, "You deserve somebody who makes you feel like your fucking chakras are aligned or like, your venus isn't in gatorade or —"
Emily turned quickly, pulling Tori into a bruising hug and Tori sucked in a sharp breath, filling her nose with the scent of Emily's perfume.
"No matter what happens tomorrow, you should know that I would do it all over again just to have met you," Emily breathed, squeezing tighter.
"Jesus, that's um," Tori chuckled awkwardly, "Really sentimental. You know this isn't goodbye yet, right?"
The yet lingered in her mind after the words had left her mouth. The idea of a goodbye with Emily looming on the horizon felt like a loss, a real one, like something big Tori would have to mourn. She felt different now than she had the day she'd met Emily and she wondered if she'd still be the same without her; if she'd really changed or if Emily's presence was just the splint holding all of her fractures together. There was no way of knowing, really. All Tori knew with certainty was that tomorrow they'd compete together for the last time.
Abruptly, Tori clamoured out of bed and yanked a dress down from its hanger in her closet, "I know you brought pot. Where is it?"
Emily looked at her in disbelief, "I thought you weren't a drugs person."
Tori tugged her pyjama shirt over her head and quickly shimmied into the dress, rolling her eyes at Emily before making her way over to Emily's bedside table and producing her floral Zippo and an expertly rolled joint.
"Do you trust me?" she asked, placing the joint between her lips and sparking it up.
"Tori!" Emily protested, "This is a non-smoking room."
"Oh, don't be a cop, Emily," Tori teased, "Do you trust me?"
"Policing is an institutionally corrupt profession, I would never —" Tori shot Emily a look and she sighed in resignation, "Yes, I trust you."
Tori took a puff off of the joint and handed it to Emily, "Good. Then get dressed."
The streets of Kyiv were dark by the time they made it out of their room, the weed and the glow of fluorescent street lights on Emily's skin making her look almost spectral; otherworldly and out of place at Tori's side.
"Tori?" Emily asked, jolting her out of her temporary daze, "Seriously. Where are we going? You're asking for a very Death Cab for Cutie level of trust here."
"Excuse me?"
Emily smiled weakly, "Y'know, I'm following you into the dark."
Tori snorted, shaking her head, and increased her strides, leaving Emily to speed walk after her as she made her way through quiet back roads into the bustling city. After a few more blocks, she stopped, gesturing toward the tacky neon sign that decorated a grungy-looking brick building with a self-satisfied smirk. At Emily's lack of recognition, she marched forward, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her through the threshold of the karaoke bar.
"What's your favourite song? Just tell me and we'll get up there and fucking... I don't know."
"Are you actually offering to do karaoke with me right now?" Emily's eyes lit up, "Duran Duran karaoke?"
Tori scrunched up her nose, crossing her arms over her chest, "I was really hoping you weren't going to say Duran Duran."
Emily grinned mischievously, leaving Tori for the bar and returning with two pints of beer.
"They didn't have wine," she pouted.
"Pretty sure this isn't the kind of place people go to for a glass of wine," Tori replied, accepting a glass and taking a sip. It was way too hoppy for her tastes, but Emily seemed to be in better spirits and that was all that mattered. Even if it meant she'd have to drink gross beer and sing Duran Duran.
"So..." Tori drawled, "What brand of torture do you have in store for me tonight? Rio?"
Emily chuckled, "I'm not going to make you sing Duran Duran."
Tori gulped down as much of her beer as she could before Emily led her to the stage and whispered something to the DJ. Before she could protest, the muffled notes of a familiar guitar intro began to fill the room and Tori blanched.
"Emily," she hissed, holding her microphone tight to her chest, "Are you fucking insane?"
Emily only stuck out her tongue and took a sip of her beer before setting it down on the floor and backing up, licking her lips.
Another head hangs lowly, time is slowly taken. And the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?
When Emily turned to her expectantly, Tori steeled herself, "But you see, it's not me, it's not my family, in your head, in your head they are f... dying?"
Emily gave her an apprehensive look and Tori fought the urge to laugh, coming back in on the chorus, both of their voices cracking in a way that was painful even to her own ears. When the second verse rolled around, Tori was beyond the point of being concerned that they were absolutely butchering The Cranberries in front of a packed bar.
"Another mother's breaking heart is... something something," she sang with conviction, causing Emily to burst into laughter.
"She doesn't know the lyrics," Emily sang to the tune, "She is so mistaken."
As the crowd erupted in jeers and shouts of, "Get off the fucking stage," she and Emily only laughed louder, sputtering through the next few lines before Tori decided to take it a step further, ad libbing the rest of the song and grabbing Emily to pull her off of the stage as they doubled over in fits of giggles.
"Oh my God, Tori," Emily cackled, "That was fucking amazing."
"That was mortifying," Tori choked out, wiping tears from her cheeks.
"Dolores O'Riordan would be so proud," she wheezed, "It's the same old routine since I was sixteen? That was kind of close, at least."
Tori was about to fire back that Emily had totally set her up (she'd made it abundantly clear that she was not a Cranberries fan — folk rock had never been her thing) when she noticed Emily's wide, earnest grin and the dimples punctuating both rosy cheeks. Well shit, she thought, I guess that wasn't a total bust.
She watched as Emily finished her beer and placed the empty glass on the bar, "Where are we going next?"
There was a silent dare in Emily's eyes as she stood there eagerly awaiting whatever it was that Tori had in store for their night. Tori was never one to back down from a challenge, so she chugged the rest of her drink and set it down next to Emily's.
"Still trust me?"
"Always," Emily replied and there was a weight to the word that frightened Tori. Always, somehow the antithesis of goodbye; two duelling absolutes looping around in her mind indefinitely in some muddled dialectic. It was the weed still clouding her thoughts, she rationed, but as they left the bar, Tori found herself wondering how always and goodbye could coexist; if one had to cancel the other out by proxy or if she'd remember this night and feel the same way she did now.
Like she was home.
___
Emily laid across the table, propping her head up on her hands to shoot Tori a serious look, "So if I do it, you'll do it too?"
"I already told you I would."
"But you promise?" Emily pressed, "Swear to God?"
"God's not real," Tori shot back, cringing when the tattoo artist gave her a dirty look, "But yes. I swear to Beyoncé."
Emily was silent for a moment before narrowing her eyes, "Swear to Michelle and Kelly too."
Tori let out a huff, "I swear to all of Destiny's Child and Destiny herself that if you get this stupid tattoo on your ass, so will I."
"Fine," Emily smiled, satisfied with her response, and turned to the artist, "Do it."
Forty-five minutes later, they left the shop with matching black Eurovision hearts and Tori knew she'd be ashamed of it eventually, but for now it was hilarious. For now, she knew that somebody would see Emily's tattoo someday and Emily would have to tell them about Tori. About shithole apartments in Stockholm, too much Aqua Net, and the ridiculous path they'd taken to get here; a place that was objectively meaningless but at the same time meant everything.
She felt the equilibrium shift from products to reactants, a delicate balance tilting imperceptibly to favour always, and it was worth a tramp stamp to know that there was evidence of their year together that couldn't be erased.
It wasn't until Emily was sitting next to her in the sand of the Dnieper, trembling with laughter as she tried in vain to light another joint, that Tori understood what it meant to want physical proof.
"It's not even a tramp stamp, Tori," Emily giggled, "It's like, the novelty shot glass of tattoos."
Tori pulled a cigarette from her purse, lighting it and taking a puff. "I think they're sexy," she exhaled, watching the smoke float above her head in whisps and tendrils, "Just own it."
"You're better at that than I am. Not caring what people think, I mean."
"It depends on the person," she replied, battling with the impulse to throw her guard back up, "Occasionally I give a shit."
"Yeah," Emily conceded, "But you don't need people the way I do. I wish I was more like you — honestly, I do."
"You don't want to be like me, Emily," Tori sighed, leaning back on her elbows and sinking into the sand.
Emily passed her the joint and she took it in her free hand, sucking in thick smoke and letting it calm her nerves.
"You were unhappy for a long time," Emily remarked as casually and assuredly as she'd tell somebody that it was raining or there was a road closure ahead. Clipped recognition of an incontestable fact.
"Emily," Tori warned.
"What? I thought we were being honest with eachother now."
Tori took a deep breath and closed her hand into a fist, letting the sand slip through her fingers, "I'm not like, a robot or some shit, okay?"
"Are you happy now?" Emily asked, sliding her fingers along Tori's in the sand.
"Yeah, I think so," she replied honestly. Tori was happy; happier than she'd been in over a decade and that was what scared her the most.
"What are your plans after this?"
Tori hummed, tilting her head back to look at the clear sky, "Greece, maybe? I hear Santorini is beautiful in the summer. Yours?"
"Heading home, I guess," Emily let out a trapped sigh, "My boss said I could stay in one of the vacant rooms when I get back, but a twenty-two year old living in an assisted living facility is just... really sad. I need to find a new apartment."
"I'd offer you my old apartment, but somehow I think it's sadder."
Emily grimaced, "Let's win tomorrow, alright? No more shitty apartments."
"Deal," Tori smiled and in that moment there was no other option. If this was the end for them, they'd go out with a bang. Maybe endings weren't synonymous with diminution, maybe it was enough for Tori to have experienced what she had, but this felt different.
Emily pulled hard on her joint and held the smoke in her lungs before letting it out slowly and inhaling it through her nose with a boastful grin, "Did you see that? French inhale."
Tori let out a breathless laugh, "You're an idiot."