Chapter Text
The party had ended, the last echoes of laughter drifting away on the evening breeze, but Milk still felt the weight of it, lingering in her chest.
The air was cooler now, the resort emptying out around her, the quiet broken only by the occasional murmur of a late-night guest heading to their room.
She had wanted to leave earlier, but something kept her rooted to the spot, a strange tension hanging in the air long after the music had stopped.
Milk slipped out of the reception hall, her black tailored jumpsuit hugging her frame as she walked down the path toward the rooms. Her heels clicked softly against the stone, a small, rhythmic sound that was the only sign of life in the otherwise quiet resort.
She had expected to be alone, but as she rounded the corner toward the rows of rooms, she spotted Love ahead of her, leaning against a stone railing overlooking the water. She was the picture of quiet contemplation.
Milk stopped for a moment, watching her. It felt like everything around them had settled into a quiet lull, as if even the world was holding its breath.
“Hey,” Milk called softly, her voice breaking the silence.
Love turned, her smile warm but tired. “Hey” She glanced at the path leading toward their rooms. “Party is over.”
Milk nodded. “Yeah.” She didn’t know why, but she found herself standing there, unable to move, as if something was holding her in place.
They stood in silence for a few moments, side by side but not saying anything. It was the kind of silence that felt comfortable, but there was a layer beneath it that neither of them could quite touch.
Finally, Love spoke again, her voice quiet but steady. “I’m going to head back to my room.” She paused, then added, almost hesitant, "Wanna join me? We could talk, I don’t want to go to bed just yet. Not yet.”
Milk’s heart skipped, but she didn’t let it show. “No, thanks,” she said, her voice steady, as though the refusal didn’t hurt more than it should. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it, but it felt easier than saying yes.
Love tilted her head slightly, studying Milk for a moment, and Milk wondered if she could see through her deflection. Then, with a small smile, Love nodded. “Okay. But if you change your mind, I'm next door” she trailed off, her gaze lingering just a little longer than necessary.
Milk swallowed hard, but before she could say anything more, Love was already turning toward the path to her room.
Milk watched her go, a strange tightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt before. After a beat, she found herself following.
She didn’t know why she did it, but somehow, her feet carried her to Love’s room, the door slightly ajar as if waiting for her.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm light on the plush bed and delicate touches around the room. Love had already opened a bottle of wine from the minibar, the faint pop of the cork signaling an invitation to stay.
Milk stood near the door for a moment, unsure of herself, before Love gestured toward the bed. “Come on, sit.”
Milk didn’t argue. Instead, she sat, crossing her legs on the edge of the bed. Love poured the wine into two glasses, handing one to Milk, who took it gratefully. She wasn’t used to being in close quarters with anyone, especially not after a day like this.
“So,” Love started, settling beside Milk on the bed, “I guess we don’t have to talk about the wedding anymore.” Her voice was light, but there was a trace of something deeper in it, something that Milk couldn’t quite place.
Milk glanced at her. “No, I think we’ve covered that topic enough.” She took a slow sip of the wine, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest.
Love smiled, the gesture genuine but tinged with exhaustion. “Good."
Milk’s gaze softened, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she let the silence settle between them again, allowing the atmosphere to shift into something quieter, more personal.
Love hesitated then asked something softer than expected.
“Do you ever feel like you’re hard to love?”
Milk didn’t react at first. She kept her gaze fixed on her wine, expression unreadable.
“You... make really intense questions.”
“I'm sorry,” Love said quietly. “I just wonder sometimes.”
Milk paused, then instead of answering she asked back. “You?”
Love let out a breath, twisting her fingers around her glass. “I’m afraid I’m either too much or not enough. Depending on the day.”
Milk looked at her. “For who?”
Love shrugged. “People. Men I’ve dated. My family. Myself.”
Milk’s voice was gentle in that sharply honest way only she could manage. “Maybe the problem isn’t you. Maybe it’s that you kept choosing people who only liked the parts of you that were convenient.”
Love’s breath hitched, surprised, stung, grateful all at once.
“I like the way you say things like that, and I know you don’t even realize how they land.”
Milk looked away quickly. “I’m not trying to land anything.”
“I know,” Love whispered. “That’s why it feels real.”
Milk didn't look at Love, she just took another sip of her wine.
Love asked again, softer now, “So? Do you ever feel hard to love?”
Milk didn’t answer right away. Her throat worked.
“I feel... hard to understand,” she admitted. “People assume I don’t care because I don’t perform it the way they want.”
Love kept her eyes on her, warmth blooming across her features. “That’s not the same as not caring.”
Milk’s breath stilled.
Love continued, “You’re guarded, not cold.”
Milk shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know the parts you let show,” Love said. “And I like those parts.”
Milk blinked, startled, almost defensive. “You shouldn’t.”
“Too late,” Love murmured.
A thud went through her chest, small but undeniable.
Milk straightened subtly, as if posture alone could force her heartbeat back into order.
She needed space. Space to think. Space to not feel whatever this was.
Then, Love spoke again “I used to think I knew what I wanted,” she said. “I used to think I had everything figured out. But now… I don’t know.” She laughed softly, but it lacked any real humor. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just… floating through life, you know?”
Milk studied her, the wine glass now resting empty in her hands as she listened carefully. Love seemed vulnerable, unsure, almost sad. And it made Milk’s chest tighten in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
“Yeah, I know,” Milk said slowly, her voice more serious than it had been all night, “but you’re not hopeless, Love”
Love looked at her, eyes soft with surprise. “What?”
Milk set her glass aside, leaning slightly, her gaze steady. “You’ve got a lot going for you,” she began, her voice softer now, but full of conviction. “You’re kind, and patient, more than you let on. You’re strong, but maybe not in the way people would expect. You don’t force your presence on others, but you know exactly when to take charge. I believe you notice things most people miss: details about people, their moods, their intentions.” She paused, her eyes locking with Love’s, soft but intense. “You care about closeness, without being afraid to let people have their space. You don’t need to be the center of everything, but you don’t hide from the things that matter, either.”
Love’s breath caught for a moment, as though Milk’s words had reached somewhere deeper than she'd expected.
Maybe it was the wine, but Milk kept her gaze on Love this time, unwavering, the sincerity in her voice palpable. “You don’t always say everything on your mind, but when you do, it’s with purpose. You don’t just follow the crowd, you see things the way they really are.”
Love’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the ocean between them. Milk had said what needed to be said, and Love was listening in a way she hadn’t before.
After a beat, Love spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Do you want me to say what I see in you, too?”
Milk froze for just a moment, then shook her head, quickly pulling away. “No.”
Love laughed softly, a real laugh this time, her tone light and teasing. “I’m just asking.”
Milk just shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive, it was more like an acknowledgment that, no matter what Love saw in her, she wasn’t ready to hear it.
But Love wasn’t about to let it go. She shifted slightly on the bed, leaning back on her elbows, still looking at Milk with that soft gaze.
“I see someone who’s been through a lot. Someone who doesn’t let people in, but who doesn’t stop trying, either. I see someone who could act like they don’t care about anything, but who really does care more than anyone else. I see someone who’s always looking for the next thing, but who’s also afraid to move on.”
Milk’s chest tightened as she processed Love’s words. She didn’t say anything in response, she didn’t need to. Love’s gaze never wavered, and neither did hers.
The air between them felt thick, heavier now. The weight of the moment was suffocating, but neither of them seemed to want to move.
Milk held Love’s gaze a heartbeat longer than she meant to, enough for it to mean something, long enough for her to feel it.
Then she blinked, a slow, deliberate break in the moment.
Love caught it, softened, and let her voice turn lighter.
“Alright, then. What do you enjoy doing? What’s your thing?”
Milk’s brow furrowed, confused but thankful for the change in topic. "I don't know," she took a moment to think. “Baking, I guess. I like exercising, too. And watching anime.”
Love raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Anime? You? I never would’ve guessed.”
Milk rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “What’s wrong with anime?”
Love smirked, staring at her for a moment too long. “I thought you were too ‘grown-up’ for cartoons.”
Milk gave her a pointed look. “Anime isn’t the same as cartoons. They’re more… layered. More complicated. It’s art, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” Love teased, her laughter light and easy, before falling into a more comfortable silence.
Milk shifted slightly, studying her. The question sat on her tongue longer than it should have, it feel like a risk. But curiosity tugged harder than caution.
She cleared her throat. “And you?” Her voice came out softer than intended. “What’s... your thing?”
Love blinked, surprised for half a second before a smile curved at her lips, gentle, pleased. “Me?”
Milk nodded once, trying not to look as invested as she felt.
Love tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hmm… I like reading,” she said, almost shyly. “Cooking. Or...” her smile widened, self-aware, “if I’m honest, maybe just the eating part.”
Milk huffed a quiet laugh.
“And I love animals,” Love added, her tone brightening. “Any of them. All of them. It’s a problem.”
Milk’s expression softened without permission. “Mmhm, It fits,” she said quietly.
Love tilted her head. “how?”
Milk looked away, a tiny shrug her only answer, because saying the truth out loud felt too raw: because you’re someone who sees the world gently.
But she didn’t say it. Love didn’t need to hear it to know.
They were completely lay back on the bed by now, wine glasses long empty. The conversation drifted away from anything heavy, and soon they were just lying there, side by side, staring at the ceiling, letting the quiet between them stretch on.
But then, after what felt like an eternity, Love whispered, her voice barely audible. “You know, sometimes I wish I could just stop. Just let go of everything for a little while.”
Milk’s heart skipped a beat, the words hanging in the air between them, an unspoken question in her voice.
But when she finally gathered the courage to turn her head toward Love, she found her already asleep, her soft breathing the only sound in the room.
Milk stayed still, her heart aching with something she couldn’t name, just watching Love’s peaceful expression. Her fingers itched to reach out, and without thinking, she gently cupped Love’s cheek.
Love smiled softly in her sleep, and Milk’s chest tightened again, that unfamiliar ache growing.
Milk stayed there, watching her sleep, feeling the kind of longing that was deep and real, but so painfully impossible to act on.
Eventually, her own eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing she felt was the warmth of Love next to her, the sound of her steady breathing, and the quiet certainty that tomorrow was coming, whether they were ready or not.