‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬.
Everything about them seemed to her like it was built out fragments of a different reality. The early morning rides, and stretch of your legs once you make a stop, and the shivering in the cold air, and those first few hours when the bus is full of people, yet somehow still perfectly quiet. There was something about it all that always succeeded in filling Silena with the laziest type of excitement.
For what feels like the first time ever, Mena doesn't seem to share her fascination.
That is, of course, not to say that she too isn't beyond excited for the trip herself. On the contrary, really: she packed her backpack religiously, checked the weather app several times a day, and took fifteen minutes to pick her outfit. It does, however, strongly suggest that four in the morning is not a time she deems worthy of wakefulness.
Thus, she spends the entire bus ride sleeping with her head on Silena's shoulder. This is, needless to say, entirely unrelated to Silena's own increased liking for morning bus rides.
Even once they reach the museum at around seven, she makes a beeline for the cafe, and immediately drops herself into one of the chairs. The hood of her sweatshirt is drawn over her head as she sinks into the warmth of her bulky fuchsia jacket, and the only part of her head that remains visible to the world is the sleepy drop of her usually lively eyes.
It's all a little much to handle, honestly.
"Here," Silena says, coming back to their table with arms full of breakfast food.
She lays it down carefully, cautious not to spill the hot liquid all over herself. The outrageous adorableness of Mena's current state does precisely nothing to help calm her hands, but she manages. She brought a cup of black tea and a cream cheese bagel for herself, plus a vanilla latte and a cherry danish for Mena. If you ignore the fact that they're in a museum cafe, the scene feels oddly domestic- and Silena makes a point out of mentally suplexing the feeling in her chest to the Earth's core.
She remains standing, another paper bag clutched in her hand.
"Thanks," Mena says, yawning. Once she looks up at her plate, a drowsy smile spreads across her face. "That's my favourite pastry."
"I know."
This, for some reason, seems to surprise her friend (yes, they're friends now; haven't you heard?). The sleepiness of her features temporarily takes a back seat to the smug look that appears in her eyes.
"You do?"
"Hard not to," Silena says, a bit defensively. "You're very loud about making all of your likes and dislikes public."
"And you, apparently, listen."
"Not like I have a choice. Do you know where Lyrica is?"
Mena's eyes fall on to the paper bag Silena is still holding.
"You got one for her too?"
This conclusion makes her smile even wider. Silena bristles, and quickly hides the bag behind her back.
"As a thank you. For giving us a lift from the party."
"Oh," Mena says. "You really are being a good friend."
A mean blush spreads across Silena's cheeks as she remembers her words from a few nights before. As though it wasn't bad enough that she herself still has a hazy recollection of just how clingy she had been that evening, Mena graciously takes every opportunity she can to remind her. She ducks her head, clearly embarrassed.
"Either tell me where she is," she says, her voice as dangerous as she can make it around Mena. "Or stop talking."
Thankfully, Mena seems to understand the warning in her tone, as diluted as it is.
She hides her smile by taking a bite of her pastry.
"Oh, this is delicious."
There is a little bit of cherry staining her lips, and her tongue darts out to lick it. Silena stares, hypnotised, because she's seventeen and repressed and very, very weak.
"Anyway, I'm pretty sure she was looking at the exhibit to the left of the cafe entrance, the last I saw her."
"Right," Silena says, zoned out.
Mena looks at her strangely, and she snaps out of it with a visible jolt.
"Right," Silena repeats. "Thank you."
Mena keeps looking at her. Silena arches an eyebrow, covering up her awkwardness the only way she knows. Mena smiles again, even brighter than before.
"I'm sorry. You're just being so cute."
And that's just... Ugh.
Fine.
Silena wishes intensely that she could think of something mean and Silena-ish to say (or to even just think in general, really), but even teasing Mena has gotten exceedingly hard during these past couple of days. Especially when she's doing something as outrageous as calling her cute.
Having a crush really takes the fun out of everything.
"I am leaving now."
She turns on her heel before Mena can protest, and decidedly ignores the sound of Mena's laughter that follows her out of the cafe.
Although, perhaps ignore isn't the best word. Though she doesn't acknowledge the sound outwardly, she is still very much aware of it- at least, if the way her heart picks up a beat is anything to make judgements by.
Silena pauses as she steps out into the hall, standing still and alone for a moment, allowing her cheeks and head an opportunity to cool down. There are only a few people here, and it isn't very challenging to spot Lyrica's figure on the other side of the room, looking at the painting on the wall. Even if there were more people, those juice box earrings would be hard to miss.
"Hi," she says.
Lyrica turns, and the juice boxes sway at the movement.
Silena wonders how inconvenient they really are during slightly windier days.
"Oh. Hello!"
She hides it the best she can, but surprise remains evident on her face. Silena can't exactly blame her. The two of them have had three moments of one on one contact so far, tops. Not to mention that they haven't had any contact at all, be it public or private, before Mena waltzed into their lives. But it wasn't only Mena's involvement that made Silena purchase the third pastry.
Lyrica had been nothing but kind to her (despite the underlying fear that Silena most definitely noticed), while she barely bothered to learn her name.
Mena might call this cute, but it's bare minimum effort, really.
Doesn't make it any less mortifying, though. Suddenly self-conscious and not knowing what to do, Silena stretches her arm out and thrusts the brown paper bag in Lyrica's direction.
Lyrica only looks at it, confused.
"For you," Silena explains. "You didn't come in for breakfast, so I thought I'd bring you something."
Lyrica's lips part into a 'o' shape. Then, a small smile spreads across them as she accepts the bag into her hand.
"I...Thank you, Silena."
Silena only nods, standing silently as Lyrica opens the bag and peeks inside it.
She raises an eyebrow. "Isn't this Mena's favourite?"
Does everyone have to point that out? Dear lord. Being nice to people might not be worth the bone-deep embarrassment she feels upon being called out for it, actually.
"Uh, yeah," Silena admits. "I didn't know what you like, so I just got you both the same. Is it fine?"
"More than," Lyrica assures, but Silena is not at all comforted by the knowing grin on her face. "Thanks, again."
Silena gives another curt nod.
"Don't sweat it."
They stand in silence. Now that what she came here for is over, Silena really isn't sure what else to say. This whole making friends thing isn't as easy as she remembers from kindergarten. Should she comment on the painting? She opens her mouth, but quickly snaps it back shut. Probably not. What the hell could she even say about it that Lyrica, a certified art kid who makes earrings out of drink packages, would find smart? That she thinks the colours are neat? Yeah, right. Imagine. It's all wildly exhausting.
Overwhelmed, she gives one more nod to the wall in front of her, and then turns on her heel to take her leave.
By the time she makes it halfway across the room, Lyrica speaks again.
"Emilia doesn't know, does she?"
Well. That's pretty cryptic, isn't it?
Silena turns to face her, but the other girl is still looking at the painting.
"Only you and Miles do."
"No, I meant..." Lyrica shakes her head, turning to regard the girl standing next to her. "Well. I guess that still answers my question."
It is now Silena's turn to be confused.
"What question?"
Lyrica looks back at the painting. She seems unsure over whether or not she should say what's on her mind. It makes Silena grow antsy.
"I was just wondering if she knows that you have a crush on Mena. A real one, that is."
Cold dread digs its claws into Silena's shoulders.
She clenches her jaw, and tries to control her breathing. The more effort she puts into it, the harder it becomes.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Her voice is low, but not very convincing. Lyrica looks at her, and Silena knows that she has noticed it as well.
"I think you do."
"Really, I don't."
"Don't worry," Lyrica adds, not paying any mind to Silena's miserable attempts at denial. "Mena hasn't a clue. I'm not going to say anything, either. This is not about her, anyway."
Silena frowns, crossing her arms defensively.
"What is it about, then?"
Lyrica bites her lip. Although these days Silena might take the time out of her day to remember the favourite baked goods of the girl she likes, she is still scary. Now more than ever, she seems to be ice personified.
"May I be blunt?"
Silena scoffs.
"You've done a good job so far."
"I don't mean offence," Lyrica starts, cautious. "But I've seldom seen you interact with anyone other than Emilia and Jonah. I'm assuming that not being able to talk about this with either of them must be tough. Coming to terms with your sexuality can be incredibly isolating even when you have others to confide in, and I can't imagine what it's like when you don't."
Silena's frown only deepens.
No, she bets that Lyrica really can't imagine. After all, she isn't as pathetic as Silena is. She has more than three close friends. She wouldn't reduce herself into a clingy, drunk mess just because one of those two friends (who isn't even her friend anymore, really) talked to her for about five minutes.
"Yeah, well. Poor me."
Lyrica's confidence falters at the cold bitterness of Silena's words, but she still holds her ground.
"My apologies," she says. "I didn't mean for that to sound quite so patronising. All I wanted to say is that, if you ever need someone to talk to, I've been there. I can listen."
Silena searches her face for any signs of mocking, but all she finds is genuine care shining in the eyes of a person who has clearly walked this road before.
Perhaps they aren't wearing the same shoes, nor carrying the same burden on their backs, but Silena is sure that Lyrica faced struggles unique to herself, too. If all she wants to do now is help Silena to go through her own, maybe she shouldn't dismiss her so quickly.
Slowly and ever so slightly, she allows her guard to slip.
"I already told you. There's nothing to talk about."
She insists on it, albeit weakly. It's the type of insisting you use when all you want is for the other person to insist just a little harder, a little longer, and allow you to give in without shame.
"Sure," Lyrica says, understanding. "But if there ever is, you know where to find me."
Silena sways on the heels of her feet, worrying her lip in between her teeth, and nods quickly.
Still, there's one more thing that's making her hesitate.
One really big thing, actually.
"How do I know you won't tell everything to Mena?"
Despite recognising her victory, the look in Lyrica's eyes is gentle. She shrugs her shoulders softly.
"I guess you don't," she admits. "But that's the best thing about friendships."
Silena furrows her eyebrows.
"What is?"
Lyrica smiles.
"Trust, of course."
-
"I can't do this anymore," Mena complains, for what just might be the sixtieth time that morning. "My legs are literally falling off. If I have to stand in one place for one more minute, I am actually going to lose it."
They've only been walking for about fifteen minutes.
Silena rolls her eyes at the dramatics of her fake girlfriend, but allows her to lean her weight against her side.
"I thought you would be into museums," she muses. "Seems very... Romantic."
And it isn't only the quiet closeness of couples taking museum walks that makes Silena say it. There's something special, she thinks, about a contemporary lover looking at the same feeling that is in their chest, preserved from hundreds of years ago. She looks at the brush strokes that painted the hands of the woman on the picture standing before them, and knows with absolute certainty that this eighteen-century painter must have felt that same thing she did last weekend, drunkenly holding onto Mena's hand.
"I thought it would be," Mena says, sounding dejected. "It could be, if only it didn't involve so much standing still and being quiet."
Right. The whole standing still business isn't very dear to Mena at all.
"What did you expect?"
She sighs heavily.
"I don't know, but my disappointing relationship with museums goes way back, really."
"Yeah?"
She nods.
"Like, I was super into mummies when I was little, and I spent most of our family trip to London convincing mum and dad that we should go and see the mummy exhibit once we get there. When we finally did, though, I was incredibly pissed."
Silena smiles. She wonders when precisely every word that leaves Mena's mouth started sounding like the cutest thing in the world.
"You thought they'd be walking around, didn't you?"
It's not even a question. Silena already sees the answer written all across Mena's face. The girl in question looks up at her, a teasing smile gracing her lips.
"Maybe so," she sighs. "Can't say I blame them, though. I, too, wish I could just lay down right now."
Silena chuckles. She opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Miles' hushed voice.
"Could you guys keep it a bit quieter? Mr Davidson keeps glaring in our direction."
"Yeah, Silena," Mena chides, jokingly. "You're way too talkative. Geez."
Silena glares at her, but it barely holds any heat at all.
Their silence lasts two minutes, and even that is a struggle. Mena pulls at her sleeve, and points at a painting of a terrifying looking woman. A dead man lies beneath her feet.
"That's you."
Silena elbows her in the side.
"You're such a jerk."
"Hm," Mena muses. "But you like me all the same."
During a brief but horrifying moment, panic floods Silena's body. Just as she begins to wonder if Lyrica perhaps really did rat her out so quickly, she also realises just where they are, and what it is that they're supposed to be making people believe.
For the purpose of that only, she momentarily lets her affection show.
"I do."
She probably looks like such a fool as she says it, as she can feel adoration practically dripping from her every syllable. Luckily, something else seems to have captured Mena's attention.
There, right by the painting that Mena had previously pointed at, stand two boys around their own age. The taller one is hugging his boyfriend around the waist from behind, their arms joined at the front, while the slightly shorter one is fully leaning into his chest.
"This is bad," Mena says, all but staring at the two. "We were supposed to be the token gay couple of the competition."
Silena huffs, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"You're being ridiculous," she lets her know.
"Am not."
Just as she says this, the taller guy whispers something into his boyfriend's ear. The other boy throws his head back while he laughs, and leaves it to rest on the taller guy's broad shoulder.
He kisses him on the cheek.
"Alright," Mena announces. "That's it. They're way too cute. We need to step up our game. Our gayme, if you will."
Silena remains unimpressed.
"I will not."
"Let's think," Mena continues, as though Silena's words didn't even reach her ears. "What could we do? Do you want to borrow my jacket?"
"We're inside," Silena drawls. "And even if we weren't, it's way too small."
This does get Mena's attention, though not the positive kind.
"I am really not that much shorter than you."
"Sure. Except you kind of are."
"You're no help," she says, grumpily. "When will we finally start moving?"
Just like that, Silena connects the dots. Before she can think better of it and consider the effects it might have on her already fragile emotional stability, the words are already out of her mouth.
"What if I carried you?"
Mena stills, before looking up at her in wonder.
"Huh?"
Silena wants nothing more than to disappear, but she somehow pushes past her discomfort.
"We need to do something cute, and you said that your legs hurt," she explains, desperate to make it clear that this has nothing to do with her own selfish wish to hold Mena close. "I could give you a piggyback ride for the rest of the tour."
Mena raises both of her eyebrows, eyes wide as she considers this.
"That's... Actually, not a bad idea."
Silena huffs, only slightly offended.
"Don't act so surprised."
Despite taking an evident liking for the idea, Mena hesitates- scrutinising Silena's build.
"Are you sure you can do it, though?"
"I throw girls twice your size into the air on the daily," Silena notes. "So yes, I'm pretty sure that I'll manage."
Mena nods. Silence. She nods again.
"Okay, then," she moves so that she's standing behind Silena. "Just... Don't drop me. Surgeons can't make faces as pretty as this one."
Silena rolls her eyes at the dramatics.
"Just trust me, alright?"
"Yes. Trust is a must. Alright. Cool. Here I go."
Despite all the talk, her hands still merely hoover. Silena sighs.
"People are staring. Either do it now, or I'll lift you up myself."
Mena seems to get the memo. After all, she knows that Silena is not the type to joke on the regular. She puts her hands onto Silena's shoulder to hoist herself up, and then encircles them around her neck. Mena's legs hook themselves around her waist, and Silena puts her hands onto her thighs to support her weight.
As soon as Mena's giggle sounds so close to her ear, her body pressed right up Silena's back, she realises that perhaps it wasn't such a bright idea, after all.
"Oh. This is great," Mena muses, oblivious to Silena's internal struggle. "I can actually see the exhibits now."
Swallowing her nervousness, Silena pinches one of Mena's legs teasingly.
"Told you you're short."
Mena laughs again, resting her chin on Silena's shoulder. Then, taking another look at the two boys on the other side of the room, a decisive look passes her face.
She tilts her head, and presses a kiss to Silena's cheek.
Something seriously messed up happens to Silena's heart, and all the blood in her body comes to a boil. Mena, still unaware of her unfortunate state, smiles against her shoulder. Silena feels as the familiar lid is placed above her feelings, stopping them from spilling out of her chest and down her tongue.
If the day goes on like this, she'll have no choice but to tell Lyrica all about it.
Otherwise, her heart just might burst.