Bright Moon Coffee Co.

pt.5

A/N: CW for soft lesbians in love.

Adora bursts into tears as soon as she leaves the building after her and Starla's meeting with Huntara. She hurries to the nearest secluded bench she knows of, one she'd visited all too often in the past, and immediately buries her face in her hands as she let herself cry. Her racket bag slides off her shoulder, and she lets it fall to the ground with a muffled thud.

Isla. The girl who seems to hate the very idea of Adora's existence is called Isla. The name quickly replaced Girl A in Adora's mind, and she's not sorry that she didn't even know her name at first.

But now she does. Isla is a full, living, breathing person with a name, a family, friends, who spends so much of her time just hating. It kind of makes Adora feel sick, literally and metaphorically. Adora definitely thinks she might throw up, so she instead focuses on trying to control her breathing. But she also wonders if she is sick, like, fundamentally. Surely there has to be something intrinsically wrong with her for someone to hate her so fiercely.

Right?

Starla was already there in Huntara's office when Adora finished her game. They were just finishing up talking about the event in the locker room when Adora knocked on the door, because apparently Coach had been writing a detailed report about Isla and her gang as Starla explained what happened.

After Coach told Adora to sit down, a chair already prepared for her next to Starla's, she opened up the next page of the report and set Starla with a firm glare as she asked the girl to tell her as much as she could about what Isla had said and done in the past.

There was... there was a lot.

Adora wasn't the only person who Isla hated with a passion, apparently.

Was something wrong with all of them? That didn't make any sense. It seemed like much effort on Isla's part for her to go out of her way just to bring people down and Adora just didn't understand why. Why hate so many people seemingly for no reason just because she can? Why can't she just live her own life instead of spending it making other's lives miserable?

Adora knows that all the things Isla has said to her, about her, aren't true. They can't be. But she can't help thinking about it. What if she really is a waste of space? A waste of life? Could someone else have done better in her place? Could a straight, girly Adora have done better with her life than the gay, confused Adora that currently lives in her body?

She doesn't know.

She doesn't know.

And it hurts.

So she cries. Adora cries on that bench until she can't cry anymore, and is left with a dry throat and sore eyes. She wonders if she looks like a mess, if Catra and Glimmer and Bow are looking for her. She should probably tell them where she is—

'Hey...'

Adora jolts, taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of Starla standing nearby, at a respectable distance, a look of worry and sorrow clouding her features. Adora opens her mouth to say something in return but Starla beats her to it.

'It's okay!' She blurts, holding out a hand in front of her as if to let Adora it's alright to stay sitting. Her other hand forms into a fist at her side as she shuffles a little, working up the courage to say what she wants to say. 'It's okay, you don't have to say anything. You don't owe me anything. But, I owe you an apology. A proper one. So... I'm sorry. I really am so sorry, Adora.'

Adora stands anyway, wiping her eyes on the bottom of her tennis shirt. Starla's eyes snap back up to meet Adora's once her shirt falls back into place, covering up her stomach again.