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Mei had tried to understand love through fairy tales.
It was childish, perhaps, but there was a comfort in childish things when the world itself had so quickly become unrecognizable. Fairy tales were orderly. Cruel, sometimes, but orderly. A curse had a shape. A monster had a name. A girl knew what role she had been given.
Girls in fairy tales waited.
They waited in towers and glass coffins, in palaces with locked doors, in forests where every path belonged to someone else. They were gentle, patient, lovely. They were found and chosen. A boy crossed the thorns, defeated the beast, woke them with a kiss.
The girl did not ask for the kiss.
The girl did not want first.
She was wanted.
The distinction had mattered to Mei for as long as she had known what it was to look at another girl and feel her heart move in a way it shouldn’t.
Kiana was different though.
That was what Mei told herself at first. Kiana was her friend. Kiana had saved her. Kiana was loud and reckless and impossible, and it only made sense to watch her too carefully. Anyone else would. Anyone would feel warmth at the sound of her laugh. Anyone would notice the particular shade of blue of her eyes when the light caught them, or the way moonlight made her white hair appear almost silver.
These were all normal things anyone would feel or notice if they had the same history with Kiana.
Mei lay awake in her bed at St. Freya and stared at the ceiling above her.
Across the room, Kiana was also awake.
Mei knew by the rhythm of her breathing. Kiana slept carelessly and loudly. When she was actually asleep, she sprawled across her blankets as if wrestling them into submission. She mumbled, shifted, and sometimes even kicked hard enough to startle herself awake.
But tonight she was still. So, she was pretending.
Bronya, in a slightly smaller bed near the wall, seemed asleep. Her breathing was quiet and measured. She seemed at peace, as though there was no danger in the world that could reach her right now.
Mei envied her.
Their room was safe, yes. Mei knew it. They were in an academy that trained valkyries and had more than a few powerful valkyries to protect them if needed. But the dangers Mei feared weren’t anything beyond this room.
Mei did not feel safe in her own skin.
Not since the third herrscher awoke inside of her body. Not since her anger had directed lightning. Not since she had looked at the world from somewhere high and cold within herself and thought, with terrifying ease, that it would be better if everything beneath her burned.
She remembered Kiana’s voice calling her name.
She remembered Kiana standing in front of her when anyone reasonable would have run.
She remembered waking into herself again and finding Kiana bruised, exhausted, but smiling as if Mei’s return were worth every injury.
That smile haunted her more than fear or hate would have.
If Kiana had hated her, Mei might have known what to do. She could have accepted hatred. She deserved hatred. It would have been proof that at least the world understood what Mei had done.
But Kiana did not hate her.
Kiana stole food before it was done. Kiana complained when Mei scolded her for leaving socks on the floor. Kiana dragged her to training, leaned against her shoulder, and said her name with such ease as if it did not carry the weight of countless deaths and so many horrible feelings.
A blanket rustled.
Mei closed her eyes.
“Mei-senpai?” Kiana whispered.
Mei did not answer immediately. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe Kiana would stop.
But Kiana had never been easily stopped.
“Mei-senpai,” she whispered again, slightly louder.
From across the room, Bronya shifted but did not wake.
“Kiana-chan.” Mei finally said, opening her eyes.
“So you are awake.” Mei had to stop herself from smiling at the triumphant tone of Kiana’s voice.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
Mei kept her gaze toward the ceiling. “I was trying.”
“No, you weren’t.”
There was a small silence. Mei didn’t argue against it, because she had no argument, and trying to justify anything more may make her say something that she shouldn’t.
Then she heard Kiana’s bed creak, and Mei turned to look despite telling herself not to.
Kiana had sat up, her hair loose and messy around her face. The moonlight that fell upon her from their window seemed to direct Mei’s gaze to her shoulder, where her sleep shift had slipped, and Mei quickly averted her gaze. Kiana rubbed at one eye with her hand, then she gave her full attention to Mei, her gaze full of such concern that Mei had to force herself to look away altogether.
“What’s wrong?” Kiana asked.
“Nothing.”
Kiana was silent for some time, and then she swung her legs out of her bed.
“Kiana-chan…” Mei whispered, sending a glance towards Bronya with the unspoken warning.
Kiana followed her gaze for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. “Bronya’s like a robot. She’s powered off right now.”
“That’s mean.”
“It’s a compliment.”
“It isn’t.”
Kiana stood and crossed the distance between their beds anyways, her bare feet making almost no sound. She crouched beside Mei’s bed, resting her arms on the edge of the mattress.
Mei gripped the blanket, because she didn’t know what else to do as half of her screamed that Kiana was far too close but also not close enough.
Kiana tilted her head. “Bad dream?” She asked.
“No.”
Kiana clearly didn’t believe her, Mei could tell that just from the way she hummed in response.
Mei almost wished Kiana was as unaware of others as she often seemed. Most people would mistake her as simple because she was loud, but Mei had realized quickly that Kiana would always notice something when it mattered. She wouldn’t always treat it gently, or even correctly, but she was always capable of noticing.
“Nagazora?” She eventually asked, and Mei felt her chest tighten just at the mention of the city’s name.
Mei tried to push away the images that instantly flooded her mind of how her former home had looked when she last laid her eyes on it, and the feelings that came with knowing she had been responsible.
“I said it was nothing.” Mei murmured, because not saying anything would just make Kiana press harder.
“You’re lying.” Kiana responded, her tone almost teasing, though still infuriatingly gentle.
“Yes.” Mei eventually said, because hiding everything for longer would only make Kiana more worried.
Kiana blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the honesty.
Mei sat up slowly, gathering her blankets around herself. The room felt somewhat colder now, or maybe that was just her mind playing a trick on her as the conversation approached things she had been spending weeks refusing to let her mind wander to.
Mei stared anywhere but Kiana’s face as she remained crouched by the bed, watching her.
“I’m sorry,” she eventually said.
Kiana’s expression instantly softened, Mei saw it from the corner of her vision. “Mei-senpai…” She started to say, concern evident in her tone.
“Please don’t.”
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You were going to say it wasn’t my fault.”
“Because it wasn’t.”
Mei gave a faint, tired smile. This conversation, in some form, had been something that they had repeated countless times in the first few days they spent together in Nagazora. It was almost nostalgic to return to it, though her guilt continued to weigh on her.
“I remember wanting it.” She whispered after a moment, to which Kiana went still. Mei hadn’t truly ever spoken this part aloud, but with her thoughts having kept her awake tonight, she felt it would be easier if Kiana could learn to hate her for this instead.
“Not all of me.” She added after a moment, closing her eyes. “I know there was something else that took my anger and made it into what it was. But I remember how easy it was to hate. I remember seeing everyone who had abandoned me, betrayed me in some way, and even those who pitied me… And I remember just thinking that they all deserved to suffer.”
She shook her head slightly, feeling her throat tighten as she opened her eyes and turned to face Kiana.
“And then I remember you standing in front of me.”
“Well, you needed my help.” Kiana was smiling at her, smaller than her normal, somewhat careless smile. It hurt Mei to see this smile, having it directed at her. She didn’t deserve this. She knew that.
She wanted to reach out and touch her.
Kiana was so close, looking up at her from where she had crouched on the floor beside her bed. Mei wanted to reach out and brush the hair out of her face. She wanted to hold her hand. She wanted to do so many things that she knew she shouldn’t.
She wanted Kiana to choose her.
Not just as someone who needed help, as she had said. Or as a friend. She wanted something more, that she felt she had no right to even dream of.
She shifted her gaze away as the thoughts came, but they had already done the damage. She felt tears build up in her eyes.
Kiana noticed immediately, “Mei-senpai?”
“I’m sorry,” Mei said again, shaking her head as if it could make the tears disappear.
“For what?” Kiana asked, frowning.
Mei could still stop herself, she realized. She could repeat Nagazora, or say she was sorry for worrying Kiana. She could even say it was for keeping Kiana awake. Any of those would be acceptable, and all would be things that she was truly sorry for.
But she couldn’t keep hiding this from Kiana. She needed her to know just how awful she was.
“For wanting too much,” she said.
Kiana’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
Mei laced her fingers together, because she didn’t know what to do with her hands and didn’t trust them to not shake if she wasn’t holding them in place.
“I don’t know how to be grateful to you properly.”
“That… doesn’t make sense.”
“It does.” Mei insisted. “You saved me, stayed with me, came all the way here with me and you keep treating me like I am someone worth having beside you.”
“You are.”
Mei flinched at how quickly Kiana tried to defend her. Kiana saw it and looked stricken for a moment.
Mei forced herself to continue before she lost the will to do so.
“That should be enough for me,” she said. “Friendship should be enough. Cooking for you, walking with you, training with you, hearing your voice in the morning. It should be enough.”
Kiana shifted slightly, glancing away for a moment before focusing again on Mei.
“But it isn’t.” Mei whispered, her heart pounding so hard that she felt like she may pass out.
Kiana did not speak
“In fairy tales, girls like me are supposed to wait,” she said. “A boy comes, chooses, kisses the girl, and that is love. Proper love. The kind everyone understands.”
Kiana’s expression shifted, uncertain now.
Mei’s voice trembled, but she kept talking.
“I kept trying to make myself fit inside that. I thought if I was quiet enough, patient enough, grateful enough, then whatever was wrong in me would disappear.” She swallowed. “But it didn’t.”
Kiana was watching her with wide eyes.
Mei’s face burned.
“I don’t think of you the way I should,” she said. “I think of you all the time. I think about your hands when you reach for me after training. I think about your smile. I think about the way you say my name when you’re worried. I think about what it would feel like if you took my hand and just never let go.”
Kiana’s lips parted, as though she may say something, but no sound came out.
Mei closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of her.
“And then I hate myself,” she finished quietly. “Because you saved me, and I repaid you by wanting something so selfish and ugly. Something that isn’t allowed in all the stories.”
Silence followed.
It lasted only a second, or maybe two.
But for Mei, it stretched long enough that every fear she had ever had came rushing back to her, passed through her, and then came again.
Then Kiana moved.
Mei opened her eyes just as Kiana rose, leaned over the mattress, and kissed her.
For one stunned moment, Mei could not think at all.
Kiana’s mouth was warm against hers. The kiss was soft, a little clumsy, urgent in a way that made the breath vanish from Mei’s lungs. One of Kiana’s hands gripped the blanket between them, as if she needed something to hold on to. Her other hand hovered near Mei’s arm for a moment, before touching her and taking hold.
Kiana was kissing her.
Kiana Kaslana was kissing her.
Kiana had heard the worst thing that Mei knew how to say about herself and answered by kissing her instead of condemning her.
Mei’s eyes fluttered shut, and all the fairy tales she had tormented herself with fell away. No tower or prince or sleeping girl waiting to be awakened by a love she had no say in.
Kiana’s lips moved uncertainly against hers, and Mei made a small sound, too startled to stop herself and Kiana pulled away at once.
“Sorry,” Kiana said, breathless.
Everything suddenly seemed so strange to Mei. A moment ago, she had been the one apologizing. Now Kiana looked just as frightened as Mei had felt a moment ago, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes searching Mei’s face for any sort of reaction.
“I mean, unless that was okay.” Kiana said quickly. “Was it okay? I should’ve asked. I just got mad because you were saying all that stuff like liking me was some terrible crime, and I didn’t know how to make you stop, and—”
Kiana seemed to realize Mei was staring and stopped talking. The room seemed to become impossibly quiet without her voice, and Mei brought one of her hands to her own lips, realizing distantly that her hand was shaking.
There was another story she knew of, wasn’t there?
It wasn’t quite a fairy tale. There were no towers, or sleeping princesses. There was only a garden, a command, and a fruit that had been beautiful because it was forbidden.
Mei had always disliked that part.
She had never said so aloud. It felt wrong to question old stories, even when she did not truly believe in them. They had a weight to them that made disagreement feel like disobedience. But even as a child, she had never understood why the fruit had been there at all if it was never meant to be touched.
If something was not meant to be wanted, why make it desirable?
If a hand was not meant to reach, why make the fruit hang so low?
Mei’s fingers trembled against her lips, where Kiana’s kiss still lingered.
Despite her thoughts, she knew the story was not supposed to make desire seem innocent. It was supposed to warn against it. It was supposed to teach that wanting what was forbidden had consequences, that there were things one did not touch without being changed forever.
And Mei had wanted.
She had wanted Kiana to look at her, touch her, have her hand in hers, hear her say her name in the morning, have her warmth beside her at night. She had wanted so many things that she had desperately tried to hide them behind her guilt, behind her gratitude, and behind the safer name of friendship.
Then Kiana had kissed her, and for one impossible moment, Mei had forgotten to be ashamed.
Horror crept in slowly.
Because if the fairy tales had been wrong, then what did that mean? If Mei was not the girl who waited for the proper love to arrive, then what was she? If wanting Kiana was not some mistake or failure to fit inside the stories that had been with her her entire life, then maybe she had misunderstood all of the stories entirely.
Or maybe she had been looking at the wrong role.
Maybe she was never meant to be the girl waiting in the tower, and maybe she was not the girl in the garden either.
Maybe she was the serpent.
The thought came with such sudden clarity that Mei almost felt sick.
The serpent did not need to force anyone’s hand. It only needed to speak. To make desire visible. To make the forbidden thing seem possible for long enough that someone reached for it.
Mei had done that, hadn’t she?
She had told Kiana everything. Her guilt, her shame, and her longing. She had taken every ugly thing inside herself and laid it before Kiana, knowing exactly what Kiana was like. She knew that Kiana could not leave someone hurting if there was even the smallest chance she could help. Knowing that Kiana had already saved her once and would try to do it again.
Of course Kiana had kissed her.
“Kiana-chan…” Mei whispered, because she didn’t know what else to say as the realization tore through her.
Kiana, who had been watching her with growing worry, seemed to tense at the sound of her voice.
Mei lowered her hand from her mouth and stared at the blanket between them. “I’m sorry.” she said.
“Mei-senpai—”
“No.” Mei interrupted. “No, Kiana. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
“What?” Kiana asked, her voice hushed. “Mei-senpai, what are you talking about?”
“I made you feel like you had to do that.”
Kiana blinked, suddenly confused. “Had to kiss you?”
“You were trying to comfort me,” she said. “Because I was saying horrible things, and you didn’t know how else to make me stop.”
Kiana frowned. “That is not what happened.”
“But it is.” Mei’s voice shook. “That is what you do. You help people. You see someone hurting and you throw yourself at it without thinking about what it costs you.”
“That’s not—”
“And I knew that.” Mei pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart felt as if it were trying to tear its way free. “I knew that, and I still said everything. I made you listen to me talk about wanting you, and guilt, and all those stories, and then you felt like you had to do something.”
Kiana stared at her, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and hurt.
Mei could barely stand to look at it.
“I thought I was afraid because I was the girl who wanted what she wasn’t supposed to want,” Mei whispered. “But I don’t think that’s it. I think I was afraid because some part of me knew I wasn’t the girl at all.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not the princess in the tower. I’m not the sleeping girl either. I’m not even the one in the garden reaching for the fruit.” Her voice cracked. “I’m the thing that offers it.”
Kiana went very still, and Mei looked down because she couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.
“I’m the serpent in that story,” she said. “I’m the thing that waits for someone good to come close enough that I can ruin them.”
For a second, there was only silence.
Then Kiana spoke, very softly, “That’s stupid.”
Mei froze. The words were so blunt that they cut through her spiral for just a moment. Kiana seemed to realize just how it sounded and winced.
“I mean…” She paused, “Well, not. Actually, I do mean that.” She shifted closer, still crouched somewhat awkwardly beside the bed. “It’s stupid.”
Mei’s eyes burned as she fought tears.
“I kissed you because I wanted to.” Kiana’s face was red now, though her gaze did not leave Mei. “You didn’t tempt me or ruin me or anything. It wasn’t because I felt bad or that I thought it would fix everything. I mean, I did want you to stop saying awful stuff about yourself, because I hated hearing it, but it’s not like that was the reason.”
“I kissed you because I wanted to.” She repeated, and her gaze finally shifted away from Mei as she seemed to become suddenly nervous. “And… I already wanted to before tonight.” Kiana whispered.
Mei could not have heard that correctly. It didn’t fit.
“You…” Mei started, but her voice faded as she didn’t know what to say.
“It’s not like I had some big plan or anything. But I’ve thought about it. Sometimes.” Kiana said.
“Sometimes?” Mei echoed, still disbelieving.
Kiana’s face seemed to grow redder. “A lot.” She admitted.
No, some part of Mei thought, because it was scared and wanted to refuse it. No, that couldn’t be true. If Kiana had wanted this before, then Mei could not make herself solely responsible for the kiss. She could not turn it into another sin that belonged only to her. She could not make herself the serpent if Kiana had already wanted to reach.
And somehow, that frightened her too.
Because then it wasn’t only Mei’s failure. It wasn’t only some twisted thing inside of her that had broken the proper shape of love. It meant Kiana had also wanted something outside the stories. I meant Kiana, reckless and impossible as always, had been carrying the same kind of want without seeming to hate herself for it.
“Kiana-chan,” she whispered, and her voice sounded small even to herself.
Kiana seemed to hear the fear in her voice and her expression softened, though her cheeks remained red.
“It’s still wrong,” Mei said before Kiana could speak. The words were weaker than what she would have said before, but she still spoke them. “Isn’t it?”
Kiana frowned, “Why would it be?”
“Because we’re both…” Mei stopped, ashamed of the sentence before she could say it. Girls, she wanted to say. Because we’re both girls and her entire life had taught her that love wasn’t allowed to take that shape.
Mei looked away, “Because it isn’t how things are supposed to be.”
Kiana was quiet for a moment. Then she made a soft, frustrated sound and climbed fully onto Mei’s bed.
Mei’s eyes widened.
“I don’t care how things are supposed to be,” Kiana said stubbornly. “I don’t care about some story that says you’re wrong, or if it’s not what other people expect.”
Mei tried to speak, but found herself unable to decide on the words to say.
“I like you.” Kiana said it quickly, as if she had to get the words out before anything else. “I like you, Mei-senpai. You didn’t make me, and it’s not because I’m trying to save you or that I feel sorry for you.”
Mei could not look away.
The world seemed to narrow down into such a small space. There was only Kiana kneeling on her bed, Kiana’s hands clenched in her blanket, Kiana’s face flushed with embarrassment yet seemingly more resolved than Mei had ever seen her. Kiana, who had somehow heard every ugly thing Mei had said and still moved closer.
Mei was still afraid. Because every story Mei had learned had taught her to wait for a boy, and every warning had taught her that wanting something forbidden was how ruin began.
“I’m still scared.” She whispered.
“Okay,” Kiana said. And that was all. She didn’t promise everything would be easy, or make any declaration, or anything.
And then she was leaning closer. Slowly. Slow enough that Mei could turn away if she wanted.
The second kiss was softer than the first, but not uncertain.
Kiana’s hand came up to Mei’s cheek, and Mei’s breath caught at the touch. For a moment, she froze. Then the fear loosened and she lifted her own hand and curled her fingers into Kiana’s sleeve.
All of the stories she had tormented herself with faded away, becoming distant under the warmth of Kiana kissing her. She knew they would return later, when Kiana was not close enough to silence them just by existing. But for now, she didn’t think of them.
When they finally parted, neither of them moved far.
Kiana’s forehead rested against hers. Her breathing was uneven, and Mei realized with wonder that Kiana was nervous too.
Before either of them could say anything, the sound of someone clearing their throat came from across the room.
Both of them froze.
Bronya had sat up in her bed, her blanket still up around her shoulders, eyes half-lidded and deeply unimpressed.
Mei went cold from head to toe.
Kiana recoiled away from Mei as though she had burnt her.
“Bronya,” Kiana hissed. “You’re awake?”
“Bronya has been awake since Kiana claimed Bronya was powered off.”
Kiana’s face drained of color. “Since then?”
“Correct.”
Mei covered her face with both of her hands, embarrassment flooding her. She only allowed her fingers to part enough to see Bronya glancing between the two of them, her expression unchanged.
“Bronya requests that future romantic breakthroughs be scheduled before midnight,” she said, laying back down and turning towards the wall. “Bronya is returning to sleep. Mei may continue defeating centuries of internalized narrative conditioning in the morning.”
Then the room was silent, with neither Mei or Kiana moving.
Then Kiana, still on Mei’s bed, pressed both hands over her mouth as her shoulders began to shake. Kiana tried to stop laughing, failed almost instantly, and the sound came out muffled through her fingers.
Then, despite everything, Mei started to laugh too. She tried to be quiet, but she failed after the emotions the night had put her through so far.
Across the room, Bronya spoke without turning over. “Bronya can still hear both of you.”