The world outside had grown quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of traffic. Inside Amelia's apartment, the air was thick with something unspoken, a tension that neither she nor Celeste had dared to address—until now.
Celeste sat on the couch, curled up with a blanket draped over her legs, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of a half-empty cup of tea. The glow from the dim lamp beside her softened her features, casting delicate shadows across her face. Amelia stood near the window, arms crossed, pretending to be absorbed in the city lights beyond.
But she wasn't thinking about the city. She was thinking about Celeste.
She was thinking about the way her presence had seeped into every part of Amelia's life, like watercolor bleeding into canvas—unstoppable, inevitable.
She was thinking about the way Celeste had looked at her that morning, the way her touch lingered just a little longer than necessary when their hands brushed while reaching for the same paintbrush.
She was thinking about the way her own heart reacted—lurching, clenching, wanting.
Amelia inhaled deeply and turned. "Celeste."
Celeste looked up, her head tilting slightly at the serious note in Amelia's voice.
Amelia walked over and sat beside her. Close. Closer than usual.
"I need to ask you something," Amelia said, keeping her voice steady.
Celeste's fingers twitched around her cup, but she nodded. "Okay."
Amelia hesitated for only a second before she reached out, gently taking Celeste's hand in hers. Their fingers tangled easily, as if they had always been meant to fit together like this.
"Since you got here, I've been trying to figure out why," Amelia admitted. "I've been trying to understand what it means that I painted you, that you… exist now, outside of that canvas." She swallowed, her grip tightening slightly. "But maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe what matters is that you are here. And that I—"
Celeste's lips parted, eyes locked onto Amelia's, wide and searching.
Amelia exhaled sharply. "That I don't want you to go."
For a moment, Celeste just stared, as if absorbing each word like a brushstroke on her soul. Then, without hesitation, she lifted her free hand and cupped Amelia's cheek, her touch feather-light but grounding.
"I won't," Celeste whispered. "Not unless you ask me to."
Amelia leaned into her touch, closing her eyes for a brief second before opening them again. Celeste was watching her so intently, so full of warmth, that something inside Amelia cracked open completely.
She didn't think. She didn't second-guess.
She closed the space between them, pressing her lips softly, tentatively, against Celeste's.
The world outside blurred into nothingness. There was only this moment—the warmth of Celeste's breath, the soft press of her lips, the way she gasped slightly before melting into Amelia's touch.
Celeste's fingers slid into Amelia's hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a slow, aching tenderness that sent shivers down Amelia's spine. She tasted of tea and something unnameable, something entirely Celeste.
A quiet sound escaped Amelia's lips when Celeste shifted, pressing in just enough for Amelia's back to meet the couch cushions. Celeste's weight was warm, grounding, but Amelia's heart pounded louder than the rain that had begun to tap lightly against the windowpane.
Celeste pulled back just enough to search Amelia's eyes, her fingers brushing along Amelia's jaw before trailing down to the hollow of her throat. "You're shaking," Celeste whispered.
Amelia let out a breathy laugh, her hands gripping Celeste's waist without thinking. "You do that to me."
Celeste's expression softened into something unreadable, something that made Amelia's breath hitch when Celeste leaned in again, her lips barely ghosting over Amelia's jawline, then down the column of her throat.
The sensation sent a heat curling low in Amelia's stomach, her hands pressing instinctively against Celeste's lower back, pulling her closer.
Celeste made a quiet sound, almost a hum, before pulling back slightly, just enough for their noses to brush.
"Tell me to stop," Celeste murmured, her breath warm against Amelia's lips.
Amelia swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Celeste's waist, feeling the soft fabric of her borrowed sweater beneath her touch. She could feel the rapid beat of Celeste's heart against her own, could feel the warmth radiating between them.
She didn't want her to stop.
Instead of answering, Amelia surged forward, catching Celeste's lips in another kiss—this one deeper, more certain, more desperate.
Celeste responded immediately, her body pressing flush against Amelia's, her hands wandering up Amelia's sides, fingers teasing at the hem of her shirt, her touch slow, exploring.
The heat between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was something deeper, something Amelia had never felt before—like she was unraveling and being put back together all at once.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the space between them, eyes locked, chests rising and falling in tandem.
"I—" Amelia started, but Celeste silenced her with another kiss, this one briefer, but just as certain.
"You don't have to say anything," Celeste murmured, resting her forehead against Amelia's. "I understand."
Amelia let out a shaky laugh, her hands still tangled in Celeste's. "You always do."
Outside, the city remained unchanged. But inside, everything had shifted.
And there was no going back.