A Handful of Stardust

AN INCH AWAY FROM MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS

CHARACTERS: Comet Andromeda, Anémona de León

TAGS & TRIGGERS: light angst, wlw, denial of feelings, 2000s, title from Naked in Manhattan (Chappell Roan)

WORD COUNT: 854

"What's got you so nervous?" Anémona smirks as she steadily applies nail polish to Comet's outstretched hand, warm on top of her own. "I'm not gonna fuck them up." She blows on them to speed up the drying process, the heady smell of the polish mixing with the old, lingering stink of weed that always seems to remain in Comet's room after Ani's left. Good thing her aunt never bothers sticking her head around the door: she's pretty sure weed isn't in the Torah, even if she doesn't try it herself. Regularly.

"I'm not nervous," Comet protests, but it's weak. No, she's not nervous about her nails--this was Ani's idea anyway--it's their proximity that flushes her cheeks, the way which the blonde holds her wrist, tenderly, a stark contrast to her normal brazenness. This has been going on for at least a month now (not that Comet's been counting); their intimacy, a sudden increase in their closeness now Wilbur is out of the picture, a few shared kisses but not much more. Even then, Anémona hasn't said anything about it, and Comet doesn't want to bring it up in case she ruins things. But all of it has to mean something, surely.

Comet had mentioned it even when Ani and Wilbur were a couple, and even Wilbur had brought it up once, after a casual offer for Comet to join the pair on a date or something such: Comet liked to put a label on things, she preferred to take relationships seriously, and something so spontaenous worried her a little, not least for the situation the next morning. Anémona knew all this--so then, what was this pretence, the unspoken insistence that they were just friends: really, really, close friends, who had made out more than once? She understood that Ani wasn't particularly fond of tight labels, but a relationship was mutual, worthy of some sacrifice. And Ani surely felt as strongly about Comet as Comet did about her. She showed it every day, in little kindnesses she had never performed for her ex-boyfriend, in frequent visits and invitations to their respective houses.

Comet can't keep getting flustered about something which Ani always seems to silently insist means nothing, because they're close friends, that's all. If it is something, she has to know--she wants it to be something--but if not, she has to cut it off before it hurts the both of them more than it has to.

She places her hand back on her lap and offers her other set of nails up to Anémona, who immediately begins to paint them hot pink, a colour she herself insisted on Comet having to match her own. "Ani," she starts, hesitantly; the other tilts her head to indicate her listening, but stays concentrated intently on what she's doing, flicking her head to move her fringe out of her eyes. Comet leans forward and carefully pushes it behind her ear. "What are we?" her words come out as gentle as she can make them, but still with some intent behind the words, enough to know this isn't something she wants a half-answer to. "I mean, what am I to you?"

The other's movements have slowed, freezing up as Ani appears to contemplate the question, a deer in headlights. "You're one of my closest friends," she resolves.At least that's something, Comet thinks, something to go off. It's precise now: she knows exactly where she stands, or where Ani wants her to stand. A lump rises in her throat, and she doesn't say anything to that; silence settles like a stifling blanket over the pair, and Comet's hand shakes a little. Some nail polish ends up on the side of her finger, and Ani wipes it carefully away with a tissue. "I don't mean to upset you," Anémona says guiltily, sounding entirely different from her usual casual tone. "I thought you knew I didn't want anything serious."

Comet nods, unspeaking. Ani continues: "You know, I've never had a girlfriend before. I mean, I've fucked girls, but it's never been serious. And anything I had with a guy sucked. No offence to Wilbur, but having something proper with him was totally, uh, draining."

"You don't want anything real because you're scared it'll be like that?"

"Dunno." Comet's wrist has been dropped and the nail polish cap loosely replaced so Ani can articulate herself with the wide gestures she's normally accompAnied with. "I thought you were hot, so I guessed it would be a one-time hookup thing, maybe twice, then we'd go our separate ways. But that didn't work out, did it?" she finishes lamely, not making eye contact with Comet, who bears an expression like that of a kicked puppy.

"I still think you're hot, by the way. I just didn't really want you to hate me after we broke up. You're totally one of the nicest people I've ever met. I'd rather we just stuck to being friends, or whatever." she resumes coating Comet's nails with shimmering pink, as if nothing ever happened. Her fringe flutters back across her face again, obscuring her vision with blonde and turquoise.