seasons. : a fireafy fic

chapter twenty one

Leafy's heart was beating rapidly as they stood in the doorway, eyes to eyes, face to face.

Soul to soul.

Her other half. The person who was once her other half, almost forgotten with the arrival of Firey.

As her eyes of forest green met with her eyes of seafoam blue, the air around them hovered with anxiety and anticipation.

She was so close, Leafy could smell her.

The scent of lavender and cigarette smoke wafted around her, surrounding her in a blanket of cozy familiarity.

This scent used to be a part of her life every day, from the mornings they woke up together, holding each other in bed, to the baths they shared, to the nights they felt each other's skin.

"What's wrong, Leafy?" the girl in front of her asked, her yoylese accent rolling off her tongue like fine velvet. Her eyes turned quizzical as she tilted her head. "Why did you call for me?"

Leafy traced the tattoos around her ex's neck with her eyes, refreshing her memory of the appearance of the person she knew so well, intimately, almost forever ago.

"Leafy."

"Bubble," she returned, unable to find her voice. She wiped her face of her tears, remnants of her earlier crying session. She smiled in a way that was not appropriate for the situation. Innocently.

The girl in front of her reached up, lacing the light, iridescent strands of her pixie cut with her fingers before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. An expression of mild frustration danced onto her features.

Leafy stepped aside the doorway, gesturing to her inside. "Come in."

Bubble shimmied out of her dark blue work jacket, and threw it around her shoulder, securing it by the hanging loop on her slender finger. She stepped past Leafy and looked around the apartment, her car keys and brass keys jingling on the carabiner attached to her belt loop as she moved.

Then, she stopped in front of the kitchen island and stared into the space around her. It was as if the air was holding its breath.

The shorter, green-haired girl was feeling woozy, intoxicated by the familiar scent, drunk on the feeling of comfort her ex provided her. She followed Bubble, and then stopped at the other end of the kitchen island, facing her, but giving her space.

"So," Bubble began, her voice more awkward than Leafy would have liked. "You still have this fucking serial killer clean apartment."

What a fucking coincidence.

Leafy's mouth dropped agape before she replied, "I only just noticed that today."

Bubble quickly exhaled through her nose, but didn't say anything.

"Remember when you lived here too?" Leafy tried to reminisce about their good times.

"Yeah..." Bubble's voice came out strained, almost painful. The girl in front of her paused for a second before finally speaking again. "What happened, Leafy? Why did you call?"

Leafy didn't exactly feel like answering the question right now, because honestly, she didn't know either.

She needed someone with her. Anyone. Her heart was beating so sorely, it was unbearable.

"When did you get your septum pierced?" She asked the iridescent-haired girl. Better to try to change the subject, just to stall for a bit.

Bubble shifted, adjusting the work jacket hung around her shoulder. Her eyes darted in a different direction nervously, before returning to Leafy. "Recently."