Chapter Text
Raven hasn’t slept very well in a while, and like most things in her life, it’s Apple’s fault.
It starts on Legacy Day, after she didn’t sign her page, because of course it does. Most people can’t close their eyes for too long, lost in thought about the uncertainty of their futures, and Raven is no exception. Her brand new roommate, Apple White, isn’t helping. The phlegmy sobs rattle Apple’s lungs, but Raven’s soul. She didn’t think refusing to sign her life away to an eternity in misery and chains would upset her friend like this. Never in a million years did she expect anyone in her life to be angry about her wanting to be happy, but Apple usually found a way to upend all her foundations in a single moment.
Despite the dim magical glow, Raven can’t bring herself to glance at the clock. It doesn’t matter what time it is. No amount of magical earplugs (a total rip-off), blasting music, or even melatonin tablets can coax her into sleep. It isn’t the sound of Apple’s despair keeping her up, she realizes. It’s the guilt. Realistically, Raven knows that failing to poison Apple might keep her from ever becoming queen, but Apple can still live a happy life.
What shocks Raven the most isn’t when Apple finally stops crying—it’s what happens right after.
There’s a garbled sound from across the room, and Raven shoots up to make sure Apple hasn’t started drowning in her own saliva and tears. A quick blink to clear the crust from Raven’s eyes reveals Apple sitting upright, knees held close to her chest and mouth poised open like she has something to say. The sound is her attempt at speaking after sobbing for—the clock reads 4:09–nearly ten hours. She clears her throat a few times, something wet dislodging itself from her speech.
“Raven?”
The word is tender and quiet, secretive in its volume. There’s no one to overhear her.
Raven isn’t too sure how to respond, given that this is the first word Apple has spoken to her since the disruption to their whole lives. “Yeah?”
“Do you hate me?”
She should have known it would have been something asinine like this. Apple’s always been self-centered so of course she thinks this is about her and not Raven’s own life.
“Seriously? I just risked everything to keep from poisoning you.”
“But I wanted that, Raven. You know that. Why did you take it away from me?”
Fairy Godmother, if she knew Apple was gonna be this anal about it, she would have slept in the hallway. Raven rolls her eyes into the inky room, sighing hard to compose herself. This is probably hard for her, she reasons, thinking your entire life is going to fall apart.
“You can still get your happy ending. It’s not gone forever.”
It’s Apple’s turn to slowly empty her lungs. If her sigh were visible, it would flood the room with reds and golds with a touch of blue, curling in wisps around each corner. The weight of breath is heavy, Raven finds out, thick and potent and all-encompassing. In one resigned exhale, Apple has spread herself through every inch of Raven’s conscience, gnawing and gnashing.
She stands, padding on her toes over to Raven’s bed. On most nights, Apple puts her hair in curlers and places weird masks under her eyes. It’s some beauty thing she had explained once, giggling about how ‘the uglier you go to sleep, the prettier you wake up’ or something along those lines. Tonight, her eyes are puffy and red as her lips, parted to breathe. She sniffles as she sits on the end, tentative and yet heavy. Her blonde curls frizz from within a hair tie. She never wears her hair up. As the mattress dips beneath her weight, she finally looks Raven in the eye.
“I guess.”
In the moments between Raven blinking and Apple’s lingering hiccups, Apple had leaned forward and pressed her lips to Raven’s. They both stay perfectly still. Her cheeks squish momentarily against Raven’s, hands propping her up on the plush purple duvet. There is no deep stirring in Raven’s chest, nor a knee-jerk reaction to pull away. She doesn’t lean in and thread her fingers through Apple’s hair, but she doesn’t jump off the bed either. It might be the lack of sleep, the guilt freezing her in place, or some undiscovered desire. Whatever it is, Raven simply lets Apple kiss her on her bed after she ruined her life. She doesn’t think about Daring Charming, Apple’s future husband, nor does she think about Dexter Charming and his endearingly awkward stutter. Only a single thought crosses her mind: Apple White tastes like bitter almonds.
“Goodnight, Raven.”
She’s gone now, back in her bed, almost certainly armed with the knowledge that neither of them will be sleeping. On top of everything Raven has done today, now her restless mind lingers on something new.
Of course Apple’s lips are plump and soft. Cold, too, for some reason, which she hadn't been expecting. Not much happened, physically. Their lips stayed stationary, hardly even a muscle twitching. It’s the principle of the kiss itself that left Raven’s mind reeling. There’s no telling what it meant or what Apple could have been thinking. First she complains that Raven ruined her life, then she spends all night sobbing so loud the entire hall can hear, and for some reason, she kisses Raven? It doesn’t make sense. That’s usually Maddie’s thing, not Apple. Did she even have a plan when she did it, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision?
Either way, when the following night rolls around, Raven has forgotten about it amidst the onslaught of other students and even the staff. Their routine is quiet. Apple doesn’t even sing to the birds as she brushes her hair. Raven keeps her eyes on the floor, plaiting her own purple strands to flow across her back. In the silence of it all, they manage to lay down in their own beds and turn the lights out. Like most good things, it only lasts a few moments.
“Raven?”
“Yeah?”
The lack of response coupled with the shuffling of socks against carpet makes Raven sit up. It isn’t long before a cold, pale hand cups her cheek and pulls her in for a sheepish kiss. The sinking bounce of a body on the mattress doesn’t come until after Raven places her palm atop Apple’s. Unlike the time before, their lips slide ever so slightly together, coming apart after a few seconds.
Raven opens her mouth, attempting to say something. While her brows furrow and eyes dart between Apple’s conflicted own, she blinks rapidly. Apple takes her parted lips as invitation, kissing her once more with greater confidence. It never verges into passion nor hunger. The quiet, understated laziness with which they exchange kisses would be sweet if not for the aftertaste of tragedy they touch one another with. Apple, with every swipe of her thumb on Raven’s cheekbone, truly wants the girl before her to try and kill her. Raven, with every exhale through her nose that tickles Apple’s upper lip, knows that the girl before her wants them to be enemies. Yet they kiss.
They break away at an hour too late in the night to be the night anymore, fully in the throes of early morning. Apple yawns the string of spittle from her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and regresses to her own, unmussed bed. The alarm only blares once Raven finally shuts her eyes, dragging her into the oncoming day.