She won't like me. She's trying to get me to do a secret interview. I can't do this, people might find out.. Amy's invasive thoughts bled like ink into the joy she experienced when Y/N handed her the crinkled price of paper with her number on it. She had only ever been with one other women, Opal, and the night she planned to propose, she broke her heart. Her whole life Amy had been victim of abuse. Her father had left the household after giving up on trying to coax her mother to be a kind and caring adult. After he left, her mother broke down. She worked late into the night and slept deep into the day; screaming and hitting and kicking and yelling if either one of her children came too close. Amy grew quick and nimble, learning to duck under punches and run from kicks. Then, she met Opal who introduced her to the aerial arts. Dancing on the Lyra and flying on the trapeze, it was her happy place. But the silks, weaving patterns into the fabric and falling through the sky, the silks let her feel free. Amy would often spend hours practicing intricate moves, relishing every drop and pop and spin. Until she began to compete. The competitions required harder training and defined steps, toe points and constant perfect concentration. Amy loved the silks, but only for fun. The performances took the strength out of her, she stopped being able to dodge the punches and the kicks, she didn't scream back anymore. She just took it. Opal held her together, massaging the lots out of her muscles, singing to Amy in place of yelling, supporting her as she rose higher and won more competitions. Opal was her everything.
Amy had been single since the night opal had broken up with her, not ready to have her heart shattered again. But she felt Y/N may be the one.
