Chapter Text
There were lots of things that Katya shouldn’t do.
She sat quiet in the dark of night, her arm lazily draped across the blonde’s shoulder. A beast, truly - with legs that went past Katya’s hip, extending out and bent against the walls. A delicate beast. Eyelids that fluttered and slightly-parted lips, limp against her frame, soft and dependent. Her thumb rubbed slow circles against the bare skin, a thoughtless move. Thoughtless, but not careless.
This was the third night without sleep.
The first was spent in denial, with her eyes shut tight and foam plugs shoved as deep as she could manage in her ears. The second was spent with her head in her hands, trying to calm the throbbing sensation in her neck by concentrating on the steady up and down, up and down of Trixie’s stomach as she breathed. Now, in the depths of her third night, after the chaos of watching a man break through walls to get out of this place, she wondered if she’d be able to sleep even with a cig in her hand. She knew now it was in part the lack of nicotine, but moreso the fact that Katya didn’t feel safe enough to close her eyes for too long.
It hadn’t happened so quickly before. The stress of losing cigs meant she burnt through her remaining ones in a day and a half. The headaches, the pain in her chest, that sinking feeling just behind her eyes. Her neck hurt terribly. Only time could tell if things would return to how they once were.
She let her mind wander, and of course it went where it shouldn’t. Blondie. Dolly. Kotenok. Trixie seemed to be a ditzy girl. A daisy girl, a lacey girl. One who would turn and smile to a man twice Katya’s size, one who would be in pieces on her wedding day. Sometimes that nagging side of her came out, the side that pulled every word from Katya’s mouth and drew her in closer, closer, as if she knew what was coming - and then dropped her entirely, letting go so easily. They were pit stops on each other’s highways, with a much longer road ahead.
Katya inhaled, holding her breath as she covered her eyes with her free hand.
This had really been fun.
She’d really enjoyed Trixie.
She’d enjoyed the romp through sustained normalcy, she enjoyed lying to Trixie about wishing things were the way they used to be, she enjoyed dropping sweet hints filled with nothing to coax Trixie further down the path to wherever they were now.
Trixie had her number now. And for some god forsaken reason, that made every fiber of her being flutter a bit, regardless of the fact that Trixie would have to contact her first.
Maybe it’d be good to say it out loud.
What if they had met under different circumstances?
Trixie wandering into her library, vying for a paper or maybe just directions. Katya would shove Ginger to the side, she imagined - that girl was exactly her type, no reason to beat around the bush - to help her, dazzling her with all of the charm and handsome nature Katya could conjure up on a moment’s notice. Maybe ask her on a date like she did other girls, and probably get turned down. Fanning that little spark, spreading across the brush of Katya’s landscape. There would be a reason to chase her. Even if she hated the smell of the smokes, if she hated the color of the walls in Katya’s bedroom, if she hated the tone of Katya’s crackling laughter - there would be a way to make it work with Dream Girl. She just knew it, deep in her heart.
Those kinds of fantasies hurt a bit. The ones where the world was normal and Katya could remembee the sound of peace. When she was the one who made waves.
At one point, Ginger showed up, throwing the door open something fierce. Katya’s free arm instinctively flew over to cover the sleeping blonde, her brow furrowed as she looked to see Ginger’s frame.
“...You’re in deep, you old bat,” spoken with a thick, matronly drawl as Ginger’s gaze raked over the scene.
Katya said nothing in return.
“Did you even sleep?”
“I want to go home, Ginger.”
“I do, too.”
“I need to go home. I need to see if it’s still there.”
“...You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?” she huffed incredulously.
Katya bowed her head in response.
“Is it because you’re out of cigs?”
“How did you...No,” Katya muttered, her voice raspy.
“You think I’m so fuckin’ stupid I can’t pick up on withdrawal symptoms?”
“It’s...it’s more than that, though.” She was thankful for Trixie’s warmth. It was the only thing keeping her steady. “I’ll come back.”
“No.”
“I will!” Another lie. “I’ll, I’ll be back! I just need to see if my home is okay. I don’t have a husband who stayed behind who can send me house updates. Fuck, man.”
Ginger paused, a rising anger growing more present in her expression. “You fuckin’...Jesus. I’m not equipped to handle you. Neither is she.” A finger pointed in Trixie’s direction. “God help me you do any stupid shit and don’t just leave quietly. You owe me a million goddamn favors for taking over the morning shift.”
“I...didn’t expect to win that fight.”
“Stopping you is out of my wheelhouse. And I know you’ll be fine. You’ve done worse before - be more worried about what blondie has to say.”
“She won’t care.”
“Oh?” Ginger tilted her head and let a hand brush over the desk.
“Yeah. She’s just a kid. She wouldn’t get it.”
The stout woman sighed, smiling a bit. “Alright. Well. As bitchy as I am, I feel awful she was up so late last night. I’ll come take over whenever y’all head out for the delivery. And at least fucking stay to feed these people. Text me when you make it home or I’ll come chasing after you.” She glanced at her watch. “And...well, if I don’t see you before you leave, I hope to see you whenever we get scheduled again.”
“I can’t wait for things to be normal,” Katya whispered meakly, offering a weak smile.
“Nah. I don’t think we can wish for something like that. But we can wish to be as close to normal as we possibly can.” Ginger gave her a small wave, letting the door click behind her.
Normal.
What was Trixie’s normal? Did she have one?
Every second that passed, Katya felt her gaze linger too long. Blonde curls, thick eyelashes, a pointed, skinny nose. Curves and soft valleys, gentle mumbles as she shifted against Katya’s torso. Everything bubbling within her. Curling around her stomach and throwing her from side to side, even the slightest part of her lips and arch in her hair. Her splayed fingers suddenly curling against Katya’s chest. Close. Always closer.
Why?
Why did she have to fall in love now?
Almost startled by the thought of those words, Katya inhaled quickly, suddenly erupting into a burst of coughing as she pulled just a bit away from the blonde she’d so dutifully held upright.
“Fuck, fuck, I-“ she sputtered, leaning into her arm and heaving. Trixie shifted her weight, eyes fluttering open.
And she felt so guilty for waking her.
“Sorry, bozhe muy, fuck,” she coughed, wiping at her eyes. “It definitely would’ve woken you up if I had moved.”
Trixie mumbled something indistinct under her breath, yawning as she settled her cheek against the older woman’s chest again. Katya felt everything freeze in that moment, like she had to live in this moment so intensely, in fear of never living in it again.
“Ginger came to kick us out twenty minutes ago, but she felt bad about me being a cunt and accidentally waking you up last night,” she rattled on, her voice low. Trixie’s ear was less than an inch away, it was hard to think of anything else.
And then the tiny voice came: “Are they late again?”, in reference to the morning deliveries.
A new Trixie. Like she had either been trained or this was real, the cracking edges of Trixie’s persona revealing the soft flow of a gentler nature. Cheeks blushing a light pink, the glow of sweat with hair sticking to her forehead. Lashes fluttering. An angel.
“Yeah.” She said more than that, but she wouldn’t be able to repeat it. Too focused.
Cutting off her rambling, the blonde extended her arms, stretching until something popped back into place. Trixie smiled, almost to herself, and sighed. “We should get over there for when they finally get there.”
And then she turned her head, and Katya’s world practically came crashing down.
Earnest eyes, searching her own expression. Dim light, youth, and the concentrated look of being deep in thought. Picking out every detail she could on Katya’s face. She had feathery eyebrows, ones Katya didn’t often notice. So casual, so airy, ethereal - an angel, an angel that she had once held close, an angel she wanted to hold close again. Closer than this. Closer than possible.
“Do I look that bad?”
I’m only going to make things worse for you.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?”
Who said you were allowed to do that? The way she saw through it all so quickly. She had to know. Katya’s eyes darted to Trixie’s free hand.
And then she gave some shitty excuse that she couldn’t quite recall. It all just tumbled out, truly.
“I have ibuprofen somewhere in my bag-“
“It wouldn’t work.”
She hung her head. The addict. Like Trixie somehow knew about that, too.
The blonde stood, beckoning to Katya with a fragile smile. She said, “Something good is going to happen today,” or something similar to it, and Katya wanted to say she was right. How funny, Trixie trying to uplift her as she made plans of abandoning the blonde altogether.
Lots happened as they walks, and next to nothing happened as they walked. Katya was in a trance, her mouth moving whenever she knew she needed to respond, her eyes never leaving the light, her angel.
When she came to, her head was tilted up, lips pressed against Trixie’s in a kiss so chaste she probably could’ve done it in church.
Even her subconscious was in on it, too.
“I don’t think I’m doing any of this right,” she recalled saying.
The buzz in her head was going to kill her. Stress, nerves, the lack of nicotine, Trixie on her tail - it all coiled tightly around her body, restricting access to everything life giving. In the doorway of the path to the library, Katya gasped for air, a hand grabbing at the fabric of her shirt.
She’d probably never forget watching the sun rise against Trixie’s silhouette. A world so far from her own, the clouding sensation of nausea and the pangs in her head, all suddenly alleviated for just a split second as the blonde turned her head back to smile in her direction. Just as she thought, an angel, with the faintest of outlines of wings. A halo, a definite glow, a warmth so indisputable. This was where Trixie belonged: her feet in the grass, hands clasped behind her back, skin shining.
This is where you belong.
“It’s really nice, yeah?” she croaked, coughing into her elbow. Trixie tilted her head, smile widening as she nodded and shifted her weight to face the older woman.
If Katya left, she’d probably never see that angel again. The blonde would be too angry that she was abandoned. When Trixie had first arrived, she’d almost insisted on not even being friends.
Maybe that was smart.
“It won’t last.” The words tumbled out before Katya could stop them. “It’s gonna rain again. And you’ll forget the sun was ever watching over us.”
Trixie’s face fell, but not to anger.
“You worried me last night,” she said quietly. “The way you talked about the walls, and how close they felt.”
“And?” Maybe I can make you hate me.
“Well, comparing now to when I woke up...” The blonde trailed off, lifting her chin to the morning sky. “I’d say those walls are closer now than they were before.”
Katya snorted. “Maybe you’re the crazy one out of the two of us.”
“Maybe I’d almost accepted the way things were. That air conditioning was the new fresh air, and pallets of bottled water were the new oceans. It’s like...readjusting the world entirely. I feel so out of place. Like I’m not me, almost?” She laughed - a delicate, embarrassed one, unusual for her - and scratched her cheek. “Maybe I’m losing it.”
Meagerly offering a smile, Katya leaned against the back wall. “Yeah? Tell me ‘bout it.”
“I guess...when that guy pulled me out of my car, I thought it was the end of the world.” Her accent laid heavy over every word, as if she’d stopped trying to keep her southern roots at bay. “And I parked it on the side of the highway - he pulled me over like a police stop, yeah - and just thought, like, well, it’s all over.” A quiet sigh. “And what you said about praying when you’ve never prayed before, and being mad at gods you never believed in...that was completely it. I wasn’t angry and pent up because this storm was an annoying nuisance. It was because it took away what I thought my life would be.”
“You’re just missing class,” Katya huffed, sucking on her teeth.
“Class that I’ve worked for four straight years to afford.”
“What do you get back if they cancel the semester?”
“Half of tuition. Nothing for my dorm, even though it’s already flooded probably,” Trixie muttered as she lowered her gaze.
“That’s fucked.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “It is, huh?”
They stood for a few moments, staring at each other. Both silently livid, resigned, and hollow.
Katya reached for her pocket, breathing through her nose as she pulled out her phone. “Le’me show you something.”
The blonde tilted her head, stepping to lean against the back wall beside the older woman.
“I think everything’s gone too, y’know. But, I...uh, haha...” Katya scratched the back of her neck as she pulled up a picture.
It was bright, glowing. A small, off-white, near yellowing house, with a dark gunmetal roof and little green blinds. Surrounded by tall pines and an older oak, curling around the back path that must’ve lead to some backyard. Nothing extraordinary. A regular little house, one that you would drive by without offering a second glance. The small figure of Katya sat on the doorstep, one leg extended down the steps and the other pulled close to her body, a cigarette in hand. Taken in the depths of fall, with amber leaves scattered at her feet.
“Oh.”
Katya watched Trixie’s face warp a little as her eyes dragged over the picture. And it wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it’d be.
“All those fucking pines, right?” The older woman shook her head. “It’s gotta be gone. And FEMA...they won’t give me much. All the apartments in town will be wrecked. I’ll have to move. Again.”
“I-it could still be alright, right?”
“There’ll be something fucked up about her. I’ve never been lucky.” She smiled. “But at least then we can think the same thing together - ‘both of our lives are ruined, fuck your God, He never gave me anything!’”
“Could you live in the library?” Furrowed brows, a concentrated expression. “Maybe stay in the shelter?”
“Why’re you so worried ‘bout me, Dolly?” Katya shoved the phone back in her pocket. “I’ll just live out of what’s left for as long as I can. It’ll be okay. But that’s not the point.”
The thought of a pine across the entirety of her small living room, the oak bent into her bedroom and cracked over the stairs. Katya’s mind went blank for a moment. Looking at that picture probably wasn’t a good idea, even if just to pull a reaction from Trixie.
“Do you live alone? Like, you pay for everything yourself?”
What an innocent question. “Yeah, Barbie. I do.” Another image: Katya standing at her doorstep, with the hollow framing of her house towering overhead.
“So you’d have to...”
Maybe her roof collapsed. Maybe everything’s gone.
“Cover everything myself. Yeah, Barbie, I would.” She stifled another coughing fit. They’d never embarrassed her before - but they did now.
“Are you getting sick?”
Maybe she’d drive up and there’d be an empty plot of land. Like a house had never been there in the first place. Maybe if enough time passed, Katya would convince herself she’d never had a home at all.
“Katya?”
The older woman jumped, hacking as she pressed a hand against her chest. That buzzing feeling, it would never go away. She turned to look at Trixie. Was the buzz stress? Lack of nicotine? The empty feeling in her stomach?
Regret, probably.
She shrugged in response, hobbling down the path like an old man. “Maybe. I’ll get over it.”
It was difficult to dedicate her heart to it. The act of leaving was more emotional than anything; it required breaking through mental barriers that lead to her early departure even being considered as an option. Pushing pallets of water and small cardboard boxes of shitty sandwiches, eyes glazing over, pure and unfiltered exhaustion. The day passed quickly onward, though Katya was convinced it would never end. Encountering as many people as possible, allowing pet visitations, walking a group of people and their dogs into the small blocks of grass between the main building and the library. Katya watched people come to life under the honest sun, and fade as quickly as they bloomed when she had to lock the door upon their return.
“Is that your first house?”
Trixie laid across their mattress like it was home, arms tucked behind her head and propping up her neck.
“What?” The older woman stood by her bag, throwing her phone into a side pocket. Keys. Cigarette butts. Car key. A change of clothes. Some cash. Her lighter, which felt all too cold in her hands.
“That picture you showed me.”
“Yeah, it’s my first. Not many people own more than one.”
“...I just thought it was kinda funny.” The blonde averted her gaze when Katya turned towards her. “You just...you look the exact same. I didn’t know if you would.”
“Fuck else am I supposed to look like?” she huffed.
“I mean. It’s not bad. I just wondered if you had to look different because of all this hurricane bullshit.” The blonde grinned toothily up at her. “Maybe you secretly really care about your hair, but it messes with your bad-girl image here. Maybe you always wear heels but couldn’t. Maybe...you’re a floor-length gown type?”
“Nah. I look the same.”
“Nothing different?”
Katya pulled a chair from behind the desk and sat down, leaning her head into her palm. “Basically the same. Just whiter teeth.” She exhaled, offering a small smile. “And I guess a little more stable. Emotionally.”
“Why the whiter teeth?”
“I don’t want pretty girls like you knowing I smoke,” Katya coughed. “What about you? You can’t gay-interview me and get away unscathed.”
“What do I look like?” Trixie cocked her head to the side, sitting upright.
“Yeah.” The older woman averted her gaze. This angle wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but she didn’t want to let herself enjoy it too much.
“Well. I usually wear dresses...sometimes pants, I guess, but they aren’t really comfortable. Brights, definitely! Pink and hot pink and pastel pink yellow.”
Katya held a hand out, counting off the colors. “Pink, pink, pink, yellow?”
“Yeah. And?” Brushing her hair over her shoulders, the blonde seemed like she’d heard similar criticism before.
I should keep packing my bag.
Shining eyes. A genuine conversation, one she hadn’t been able to enjoy all day. Something Trixie had become accustomed to, something she probably hoped would continue happening for the foreseeable future, something Katya owed her. Especially given the circumstances. She sighed, balancing her head back in her hands.
I have time.
“So you’re actually a cute 60’s Barbie?”
“I try!”
“Don’t think you have to. Do you act much different, y’know, when none of this is happening?”
Trixie hummed for a moment. “I guess...I don’t really know. I haven’t had a break from school or work in a long time, so I haven’t been anything expect someone who works.”
“So I’m one of the few to enjoy a stress-free Pixie Sticks?”
“Not stress free,” the blonde shrugged, “but if you enjoy it, that’s a plus.”
Silence wasn’t too awful between them. It was nice to enjoy this, quiet and thoughtful, despite Katya’s endless distractions. Her fingers tapped mindlessly on the table, vision blurring when a few moments passed, one leg bouncing just above the ground. She hadn’t slept in so long. Maybe it was finally catching up to her.
Only a few more hours.
She snapped back to reality with Trixie’s hand in front of her face, jumping when she realized how close the blonde was. Coughing once, then twice, Katya settled back into her chair, a splayed palm pressed against her chest.
“W-what?!”
“Have you quit smoking?”
Her eyes widened and she shut them immediately, wanting anything over having to meet the blonde’s gaze.
“Or are you...smoking in bathrooms now?”
“Why?” Katya asked quietly, toying with her bangs.
“You used to always smoke when we got back here. And I’ve been so tired, or...preoccupied,” Trixie continued, her voice dropping, “that I haven’t realized that you just - well, you just stopped.”
Why didn’t I tell you more lies?
Katya tilted her head, sighing.
Why are you starting to notice things that’re real?
“I, uh. No. I just lost ‘em,” she muttered, her body slumping a little. It felt weird saying it out loud.
“Can’t you take some from contraband?”
“Cigs aren’t contraband anymore.”
“Is that why you’re acting weird?” the blonde asked.
“I’m not - it’s not just that. I’m really tired...”
Of this place.
Just say it.
I’m really tired of this place.
She lowered her gaze, meeting Trixie’s face.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“I’ll go into the main room and steal some tomorrow,” the blonde said plainly. Furrowed brows, pursed lips. She’d get the shit beaten out of her. Close to six feet, with gray bruises and bloodied knuckles, a pack of cigs in hand.
“How romantic. A real Romeo, huh?” The older woman held a hand out, resting it on Trixie’s head. As her hand moved, it felt stupid.
But sitting there, in warmth, was worth the awkward gesture. One that could almost lull her to sleep. For just a second, she wondered if Trixie had ever been real - or just a nicotine crazed dream, a hallucination to pull her through the stress and chaos.
“You should...I mean, I can go talk to Ginger tonight and make sure she’s alright. You need rest,” the blonde suggested after a moment or two. As if it somehow indicated that Katya was losing it when she almost started petting her like a dog. Fuck’s sake.
“Ah - no, you can’t. That’s not - no, no, I’m going tonight,” Katya said quickly, snatching her hand back.
Trixie leaned back, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Why? You’re tired.”
“You’re not on staff.”
“I basically am. I’m married to the staff, apparently,” she muttered, looking at her nails.
“I’m fucking going, okay?” Katya muttered, her tone chalky and exhasperated.
Taken aback, almost a little hurt. “Christ. Okay. I’m just tryn’a be nice here.”
This was Katya’s chance.
Her chance to be mean.
“...Prosti, solnyshka muya.”
Impossible.
“That better fuckin’ mean sorry.”
“You learn quickly.”
The blonde pouted a little more before leaning forward, offering a toothy grin. “Fine. Forgiven. You should go before Ginger comes down here and beats your ass.”
Katya stood slowly, supporting her weight on the arm of the chair as she grabbed her bag.
Was she supposed to say goodbye? Was a quiet disappearance better for them both? Maybe. Maybe.
When she turned, Trixie wasn’t on her back - she was standing. Feet planted on the edge of the mattress, an expectant look on her face. A strap on her bag fell from her shoulder clunkily, pulling open the main compartment.
“...What?”
“You’re really not a good Christian husband after all, huh?”
“Am I supposed to be doing something?”
“Close your eyes, you space witch.”
“Nooo, I might fall asleep-” Katya whined, trying her best to imitate the blonde’s accent, before she was cut off.
And it was the last thing she would’ve wanted as a goodbye.
Her eyes opened cautiously when she pulled away, the pale face still only a couple inches away.
“Isn’t that how married people end fights?”
“Not much of a fight. I just told you I was going to do something,” Katya huffed, her eyes dancing across Trixie’s face.
The blonde’s closed fist tapped Katya’s hip before she pulled her hands behind her back, a small, tight-lipped smile stretched across her face. “...Spoken like a real man.”
Trixie stood in the hallway when Katya started down, a distant expression on her face. Like waiting at a bus stop with no real destination and no money to pay for the ticket. But she had to forget about it. Let it go. Say goodbye.
Footsteps felt blurry. Darkness felt safe. Every movement was filled with static, fizzing and popping as she passed the main stairwell and turned the corner. Sleep loomed overhead, kneading into her shoulders and pressing its thumbs into the pressure point on the back of her neck.
Dasvidaniya. Goodbye.
The text was sent to Ginger. All her regrets were in check. Katya stood at the doorway, digging through her bag. She wanted to allow herself these moments, that final memory of the worst days of her life. The sweat and confusion, the rumbling beneath her feet and flashing thunder in the second floor windows. That indescribable feeling when she realized her cigarettes were gone, the bouncing thoughts of her ripped apart home, and the borderline hallucinations that persisted as her eyes stayed open farthet and farther into the night. Like if she held out her open palm, it would have a faint glow of warmth.
Going home was always the goal. Meeting people was a byproduct of her intentions, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was letting a lot of people down. That pang in Katya’s chest was alien at best, just as this world was supposed to be. But the fake world she’d dreamt up, where she was married and normal and just a happy gay librarian, was tantalizingly close to bordering the world outside these doors.
Fucking Trixie was her first mistake. Thinking it wouldn’t have any repercussions on the real world was her second mistake. Considering anything about this world to be separate from her regular life could have been her worst mistake.
Katya realized, in that final moment of collection, that her hands hadn’t brushed over her car key. Fumbling, turning up nothing. A strap fell off her shoulder as she let the realization settle over her: she’d have to go back to get it. And yet, there she stood. Like God Himself had a finger pressed into her head, forcing her to stay. A hand on the door, feet together, her back straight. Waiting for something worse to come.
And it came.
“Ginger’s on duty upstairs tonight. You know that, right?” The southern voice floated, airy and unassuming.
Fuck every last bit of her life. Katya felt her face tighten. Everything tightened.
“You walked by the staircase when you knew I was watching you. Why?”
“I. I...” Her breath caught in her throat. “Uh...It’s not. I’m just...making sure everything’s locked-“
“You really thought you could pack your getaway bag in front of my own fucking eyes and have me not notice it?”
She didn’t want to turn around.
“You thought I was so dumb to not think twice about why you were leaving with that packed bag?”
“Trixie, I’m not-“
“You’re a fucking idiot. That’s what.”
“Yeah.”
So ready to agree with the sentiment. Katya slowly turned, leaning her back against the door. Lifting her gaze, she saw a selective sadness, an intimate level of disappointment, something untouchable. And she saw Trixie, in the light of the real world, the way she knew that Trixie would look at her when all this faded to black. With a dark outline of a car key in her hand, the silver flashing against the reflection of the metal door.
“Tell me you didn’t think this through,” the blonde began, lifting a hand. “Tell me this is sporadic and just something you dreamed up for more adventure.”
“Trixie-“
“Is this because of your fucking cigarettes?” Trixie’s voice was only a hoarse whisper. Katya realized it must have been to keep from waking everyone in the main room, but it almost made each word all the more upsetting.
“No, I...”
A hot shame fell over her. Eyes burning, the hand wrapped around the arm of her bag shaking, shoulders slumped.
“I, I haven’t slept in days. I’m so tired, please - I don’t even know if you’re real,” Katya murmured, running her fingers through her bangs. “What if you’re some...fucked up punishment my brain dreamed up? You’d never know, know what it’s like to feel like this.”
“...If you can’t even be sure that I’m real, why in God’s name would it be a good idea to drive right now?”
Her voice was soft, genuine almost. And when Katya lifted her head, the blonde was a lot closer than she once was. A hand extended, tentative, fingers brushing against the older woman’s chin.
“I want to be fucking pissed, y’know,” Trixie said quietly.
“And you’re not?”
“I’m more curious than anything.”
Her back prickled, a static blur flashing in her field of view. Trixie’s expression was tinged with worry, as if she could see the sparks and stars, as if she could feel the weakness in Katya’s knees, as if she felt that feeling that Katya was convinced nobody else could feel. Like a hot flash but worse, hanging over her, robbing her of energy, clinging to every inch of her skin. Her fingers tapped incessantly on the glass of the door, a steady drumbeat.
“It’s not safe for you to go alone,” the gentle suggestion came. The words twisted around Katya’s body, ringing in her ears as she lifted her chin to stare dumbfounded at the blonde. And she smiled back, like an angel so disconnected, something divine that couldn’t be tainted by the grime of their shared hurricane.
“That’s...no, no, it’s not safe for you to come at all. Don’t let me drag you into this.”
“I’m not letting you drive unless you rest,” Trixie said firmly, holding the key over her head. Like a child, Katya reached for it without thinking. She felt a hand lace around the small of her bank, yanking her forward until her torso was pressed to the blonde’s, their faces closer than Katya had ever thought they’d be again.
“What’re y-“
“You have gas in your car, right?”
Katya nodded, every tangible word stuck in her throat.
“Then let’s go live normal lives until all of this passes,” the blonde murmured quietly, her head dipped into the older woman’s shoulder. “Let’s go be fucking stupid and stop pretending like this right now is normal and fine. And let’s do it quickly, before I change my mind all over again.”
Katya knew that she shouldn’t.
“I owe you one, you dumb whore. Let me pay you back, Katya, please - you treated me well here. Made this all feel like home.”
Taking Trixie with her could be seen as some form of kidnapping, if not illegal in some way at least. And beyond that, it was downright selfish - selfish to assume that her life would so easily fall into place with Trixie’s, selfish to take her away from steady food supplies, selfish to put in harm’s way, selfish to even suspect that Trixie may be motivated by something beyond absolute pity. Katya was nothing worth worrying over now, only a husk of the person she didn’t really enjoy being in the first place.
It was selfish.
“Let me take you home, Katya.”
So intensely selfish.
“Promise you’ll forgive me,” the older woman choked, inhaling shakily.
“Yeah, yeah. Already done.”
Enjoying silence for one last moment, Trixie took the bag from Katya’s shoulder and huffed, nodding and grinning as if to signal she was ready to go. And that she meant it, too. Boldly, Trixie took the first move: holding the door open with an arm extended.
“Ladies first, right?”
They ran out together, more energy running through Katya’s veins than she’d felt in the past weeks combined. She felt bits and pieces of herself blossom when Trixie unlocked her car, and she flung herself into the passenger’s seat. Trixie sat calmly in the driver’s side, toying with Katya’s phone to pull up directions. Focused. She really meant it, every word. Half-lidded, the imagine of care and concern wrapped into one. Katya was going home.
“Ginger won’t be too pissed, right?”
She caught Trixie’s eye, the blonde tilting her head and grinning at the older woman.
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Katya murmured.
Trixie nodded, flipping the car into reverse and throwing her arm over Katya’s headrest as she angled her head to back out. Every blink felt heavy, watching the bright blur of her phone that quietly read out directions onto the nearest main road, hearing the pitter-patter of short rainfall.
For the first time since everything began, and while headed right into the center of the shitstorm itself, Katya felt at ease.
“I’ll wake you if we run into trouble,” the blonde hummed, flipping through radio channels. A slow, warm static, with the occasional bump of talking or music. “Get some rest.”
It was then she knew that she trusted Trixie, really.
So Katya drifted off to sleep.