The Good Book (NAMIXVIVI)

Walls of Silence

Vivi's POV:
Vivi shuts her bedroom door a little too forcefully, the sound echoing in the quiet house.  Her backpack slides off her shoulder, landing on the floor with a soft thud.  She leans against the door, the image of Nami's playful smirk flashing before her eyes.  A wave of longing washes over her, followed immediately by a pang of guilt.

Her eyes fall on the worn Bible on her nightstand, a gift from her grandmother.  She picks it up, the leather cool beneath her fingers.  Opening it to a random page, her gaze lands on a verse she's heard countless times in her church:  "A man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh."

Vivi's chest tightens.  The words feel heavy, suffocating.  She slams the Bible shut, the sound sharp in the stillness of her room.  Tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision.  How could something that feels so right, so undeniably her, be so wrong in the eyes of her family, her church, her God?

She curls up on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.  The scent of lavender laundry detergent, the same one her mom always uses, does little to soothe her racing heart.  The weight of her secret, a secret she can't even share with the person she wants to share everything with, feels unbearable.

Nami's POV:
The glow of her laptop screen illuminated Nami's face, but her mind was miles away, lost in a sea of blue hair and shy smiles.  She'd tried to focus on her history essay, she really had, but every sentence felt clunky, every word a pale imitation of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

Dinner with her family had been its usual chaotic self, filled with lively debates about politics and her little sister's dramatic retelling of a playground squabble.  Yet, she had felt strangely detached, like she was watching the scene unfold from behind a glass wall.  The only sound that truly reached her was the insistent whisper of Vivi's name echoing in her heart.

Now, alone in her room, the silence felt deafening.  She glanced at her phone, the screen dark and lifeless.  Had Vivi gone to bed already?  Was she thinking about me too, or was she lost in a world where our feelings could never exist? Nami's thoughts were racing.

The urge to reach out, to bridge the chasm of silence between them, became unbearable. The red head grabbed her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed out a message.  Just a simple "HII".  Casual, friendly, safe.

But as she stared at the three little words on the screen, a wave of frustration washed over her.  How long could they keep dancing around their feelings, hiding behind polite smiles and casual texts?  How long until the weight of their unspoken words became too heavy to bear?

With a deep breath, Nami hit send.  The tiny "delivered" notification that popped up moments later felt like a victory, a small step towards closing the distance between them, even if it was only in the digital ether.  Now, all she could do was wait, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread, for Vivi's reply.

Vivi's POV:

The scent of her mom's famous lasagna usually brought Vivi comfort, but tonight, it felt cloying, suffocating.  She pushed the food around her plate, her stomach churning with a potent mix of longing and guilt.

"Vivienne Rose," her father's voice boomed across the table, "you haven't touched your dinner.  Is something bothering you?"

Vivi flinched.  Her middle name, a constant reminder of the delicate flower her parents believed her to be, felt like a brand tonight.  "Just a headache," she mumbled, avoiding her mother's concerned gaze.

Dinner conversation, usually a lively affair filled with her little brother's antics and her parents' anecdotes about their day, felt strained.  Every clink of silverware, every sip of water, seemed to amplify the secret thrumming in Vivi's veins.