Chapter 4
The night settled in around them like a well-worn comfort, familiar and easy.
Gaia’s house was as welcoming as ever, glowing with the soft golden hue of string lights draped lazily across the living room. The scent of buttered popcorn mingled with something faintly sweet—probably the hot chocolate Gia had promised to make, wrapping around Aurelle like a blanket. It was their usual movie night—an unspoken tradition. Pillows and blankets were scattered across the floor and couch, the coffee table crowded with snacks, a chaotic yet comforting mess they had made countless times before.
Their movie nights had started years ago—what had begun as a spontaneous plan to crash at Gaia’s after a grueling exam had turned into a tradition. No matter how chaotic their schedules became, once a month, they would choose a day that were reserved for these gatherings. The unspoken rule was simple: everyone showed up, no excuses. It was the one constant in their ever-changing world, a ritual of laughter, teasing, and impassioned debates over film choices.
Solenne had been the last to step inside, shaking off the cold as she shut the door behind her. “It’s freezing,” she complained, rubbing her hands together before instinctively reaching for Aurelle’s sleeve, as she always did when she was cold. “How are you not shivering?”
Aurelle huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe because I came prepared?” She tugged at the oversized hoodie she was wearing, raising an eyebrow at Solenne’s lack of layers.
Solenne rolled her eyes. “You act like you’re immune to winter just because you wear black.”
Aurelle had long since memorized the patterns of these nights: the way their friends sprawled against each other without care, whispering half-hearted jokes about how predictable their movie choices were. The way Mavis and Carson stole fleeting glances when they thought no one was looking. The way Jamie always took charge, scanning through movies while half the group made absentminded protests before ultimately going along with whatever she picked.
And, of course, the way Solenne always gravitated towards Aurelle, as if it were second nature.
Tonight was no exception.
Their friends had already sprawled across the room, pairing off naturally as they always did. It was a chaotic dance of limbs and laughter—Mavis curled up next to Carson, Soleil stealing a sip of Gaia’s drink, Jamie tugging Mitzi down onto the cushions with an exaggerated sigh. Aurelle and Solenne, the only ones without an obvious partner, slid into their usual spots beside each other on the couch. It was how it always was. How it had always been.
Jamie stood near the TV, scrolling through options with an exaggerated sigh. “We always pick an action movie. Let’s switch it up this time.”
Mavis, nestled comfortably against her girlfriend, snorted. “If you say horror, I’m leaving.”
“You’re no fun,” Jamie teased before scrolling further. “What about a classic romance?”
A chorus of protests and amused groans filled the room, though no one really objected. They had a habit of poking fun at romantic movies but always ended up completely invested halfway through.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Solenne muttered. “Just admit you love romance.”
“We love watching other people suffer,” Mitzi corrected with a wicked grin. “Speaking of, you and Aurelle should really take notes. Maybe this movie will finally push you two into confessing.”
Aurelle groaned, hiding her face behind her hoodie sleeve. “Please, just start the movie.”
The group finally settled on a film—some beloved old romance that half of them had seen before. As the opening credits rolled, blankets were passed around, snacks were hoarded, and conversations gradually faded into comfortable silence. The warmth of the room, the quiet crackling of the fireplace, and the soft glow of the TV made everything feel hazy, almost dreamlike.
The movie flickered across the screen in warm hues, its golden glow casting soft shadows across Aurelle’s face. She wasn’t really paying attention to the film anymore. She should have been—their entire friend group had agreed on a classic romance movie night, sprawled across Gaia’s living room, pillows and blankets piled high. And yet, as the movie started, as the opening notes played through the speakers, she felt strangely detached from it all. The screen flickered in warm hues, the dialogue soft, but it was distant—just background noise to the quiet hum of something else entirely.
Something she hadn’t quite put a name to yet.
She wasn’t really watching the movie. No, she was watching Solenne.
Solenne, who leaned into the couch cushions with an air of practiced ease, her long lashes casting shadows against her cheekbones as she gazed at the screen. Solenne, whose face was bathed in the gentle flicker of the screen, her profile outlined in a soft glow. Solenne, who laughed at all the right moments, eyes twinkling like she was in on some secret joke. Solenne, who absentmindedly played with the hem of the blanket draped over her lap. Solenne, who was so effortlessly, frustratingly, breathtakingly—
Aurelle swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
Her heartbeat was a steady drum against her ribs, slow but deliberate, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. She had always thought she knew Solenne well. Knew the cadence of her voice, the way her laughter curled at the edges like a secret waiting to be shared. Knew how she absentmindedly tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear when she was focused, how her brows knitted together when she was lost in thought. Knew the warmth of her presence, the certainty of it, like the glow of the moon in an otherwise dark sky.
She had always thought she knew Solenne.
But now, sitting there in the dim glow of the television, watching the golden light dance across her face, Aurelle wasn’t so sure anymore.
A song began to play in the movie—a slow, melancholic tune that drifted through the air like something delicate, something breakable. It was the kind of song that seemed to stretch time, to pull everything into sharp focus and yet blur the edges of reality all at once. And suddenly, the world around Aurelle faded.
The murmured conversations of their friends, the quiet rustling of blankets—it all dulled, became insignificant background noise. All she could hear was the song. All she could see was Solenne.
The flickering glow from the television traced along the curve of her jaw, caught in the deep brown of her eyes, turned them almost golden in the dim light. She wasn’t even doing anything remarkable—just sitting there, completely unaware of the storm raging in Aurelle’s chest. Completely unaware that, in that moment, Aurelle felt like she was seeing her for the first time.
A thought—wild and unbidden—whispered through her mind, so sudden and overwhelming that it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
I love her.
The realization wasn’t gentle. It didn’t creep in like a quiet dawn, didn’t come with the slow certainty of something long understood. No, it crashed into her like a tidal wave, like an inhale of freezing air, sharp and unrelenting. It settled deep in her bones, undeniable, irreversible.
It had always been there, hadn’t it? Woven into every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every time she reached for Solenne without thinking. It was there in the way her heart clenched whenever Solenne laughed at something someone else said, in the way the world felt just a little less bright when they weren’t together. It was there in the way she memorized the sound of her voice, the way she counted every shade of brown in her eyes.
A scene played out on the screen, two lovers standing in the rain, eyes locked, unspoken words thick in the air between them. The weight of the moment was palpable, the tension so tangible that it felt like the whole world had gone silent, waiting. And somehow, somehow, Aurelle felt that same weight pressing into her skin, but it wasn’t coming from the movie. It was coming from the space between her and Solenne, from the inches between their hands resting on the couch, from the way Solenne turned her head ever so slightly, completely unaware that she had just changed the course of Aurelle’s entire existence.
Solenne Astra.
Solenne had always been like the stars—distant in concept but impossibly close in reality, burning bright, untouchable. And yet, somehow, Aurelle had spent years drifting in her orbit, unaware that she had already been caught in her gravity.
Her fingers twitched against the fabric of the blanket, the urge to reach out—to touch, to confirm what her heart already knew—aching beneath her skin. But she didn’t. Not yet. Not when she was still trying to grasp the depth of what had unraveled inside her. Because now, everything felt impossibly, unbearably fragile. Like if she moved too suddenly, if she breathed the wrong way, the moment would shatter.
A love story was unfolding before her, but it wasn’t the one on the screen. It was the one that had been years in the making, woven into every shared glance, every midnight conversation, every time Solenne had pulled her back with an easy smile and an even easier touch.
And it terrified her.
Because for the first time, Aurelle understood why every love story had that moment—the moment where everything changes, where something undeniable crashes into the protagonist like a tidal wave, leaving them breathless and weightless all at once.
She had just had hers.
And there was no going back.
-
The moment shattered like a mirror fracturing under pressure.
Aurelle had been staring—completely, helplessly lost in the sight of Solenne—when she saw movement. A shift, the subtle tilting of Solenne’s head, the flutter of her lashes as she turned her gaze.
And then their eyes met.
It was brief. It must have been brief. But in Aurelle’s unraveling mind, it stretched long enough to make her breath hitch, long enough to feel like something irreversible had just happened.
Solenne’s brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly, something unreadable flickering across her face.
“What?” Solenne asked, amusement laced in her voice, though there was something softer underneath.
Aurelle could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a deafening drum drowning out the sounds of the movie, the laughter of their friends, even her own frantic thoughts. She needed to say something—anything—but her tongue was heavy, her mind too caught in the debris of realization.
“Nothing.”
It barely scraped past her throat, too fast, too unnatural, and she knew Solenne noticed because her head tilted slightly as if she was about to press further.
But then, before she could, a voice cut through the fragile space between them.
“Are you two having a moment?”
Gaia’s voice rang with teasing mischief, and just like that, the air shifted.
Aurelle tore her eyes away from Solenne, but the damage was done. The warmth that had enveloped them dissipated, replaced by something louder, sharper, something she wasn’t ready for.
“Did you finally confess, Aurelle?” Carson chimed in, grinning as she leaned forward from her spot on the floor, eyes glinting under the dim light.
Aurelle could hear the laughter, the playful nudges, the endless teasing that had long been a staple of their friend group. But for the first time, she wasn’t rolling her eyes or scoffing in response. She wasn’t shaking her head with practiced ease or teasing them right back.
Because this time, she didn’t know if it was a joke anymore.
She could still feel the weight of Solenne’s gaze lingering on her, the way her stomach had twisted when their eyes met, the way her entire world had tilted off its axis in a single, shattering moment of clarity.
She couldn’t brush it off. Couldn’t laugh it away.
Because it was real.
And that terrified her.
She forced herself to scoff, to shake her head, to gather the remnants of her usual demeanor and piece them back together. But her voice betrayed her, quieter than it should have been.
“Shut up.”
It wasn’t her usual exasperation. It wasn’t lighthearted.
Solenne, thankfully, didn’t press. She let out a huff of laughter, and the conversation shifted, their friends quickly turning to another topic, another joke, another moment of their usual antics. The teasing dissolved into background noise, and Aurelle sat there, rigid, breathing through the weight in her chest.
The movie played on, flickering across the screen, unnoticed.
Aurelle was still there, physically. But in every other way, she was miles away, drowning in something she didn’t know how to name.
She had fallen in love with Solenne.
And the fine line between them had blurred beyond recognition.
And she had no idea what to do next.
-
It had been two days since the movie night. Two days since the world had tilted, since something inside her had shattered and reshaped itself into something terrifying, something irreversible. And in those two days, Aurelle had become a complete disaster.
Aurelle didn’t know how to act around Solenne anymore.
She had been best friends with Solenne for years. They had spent nearly every day together, their lives woven into each other’s so seamlessly that Aurelle never had to think about it. But now? Now, she was thinking about everything.
How close they sat. How easily Solenne touched her. How often their eyes met.
And now she couldn’t handle any of it.
The first time she flinched, it was barely noticeable. Solenne had nudged her shoulder while joking about something in the morning, and Aurelle jerked back slightly, not enough to be obvious—at least she hoped not. But Solenne had hesitated, pausing just a second too long before continuing.
Then it happened again, and again.
Solenne would reach for her wrist to get her attention, and Aurelle would shift away before she could think about it. Solenne would lean in, laughing, and Aurelle would go rigid. Solenne would brush against her in passing, and Aurelle would practically stop breathing.
Every time, Aurelle felt the heat crawl up her neck, felt her heartbeat stutter in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of—only that every touch felt like wildfire against her skin now, every glance held something that made her stomach twist too hard.
And Solenne was noticing.
Aurelle could feel it in the way her best friend lingered just a little longer after every interaction, how she looked at her with a faint crease in her brows, her expression unreadable. The teasing smile she always wore faltered more often now, replaced with something searching, something Aurelle didn’t have the courage to face.
By lunch, it was undeniable.
The entire friend group was gathered around their usual table in the cafeteria, their laughter blending into the hum of student chatter around them. The air smelled of fried food and the faintest hint of coffee, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a soft glow over the table.
Aurelle kept her head down, picking at her food, trying not to be obvious about how much space she was deliberately keeping between herself and Solenne.
But Solenne wasn’t letting it go.
“You’ve been acting weird,” Solenne said, her voice light but careful, eyes locked onto Aurelle.
Aurelle’s fork clinked against her plate. “No, I haven’t.”
Solenne arched a brow. “Oh, really? So you didn’t just look like you saw a ghost when I tried to pass you the water bottle?”
Carson, who had been deep in a conversation with Mavis about some upcoming event, suddenly perked up, interest flickering across her face. “Wait, what’s happening?”
Aurelle gritted her teeth. “Nothing is happening.”
Solenne, however, was watching her carefully now, her expression shifting into something unreadable. “You sure?”
Aurelle could feel the weight of that gaze, pressing into her, threatening to unearth everything she had been trying so desperately to suppress. And for a moment, she almost gave in. Almost let herself look back at Solenne and let the truth spill over, let it drown them both.
But she wasn’t ready.
So she forced out a laugh, hollow and unconvincing. “Obviously.”
Solenne didn’t look convinced. Her fingers tapped against the table, a slow, rhythmic beat, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle she didn’t have all the pieces for.
The rest of their friends, sensing an opportunity, jumped in with their usual teasing.
“If you two are having a lover’s quarrel, just say so,” Mitzi said, smirking. “I mean, it’s inevitable at this point.”
Jamie leaned forward, propping her chin on her palm. “Honestly, I’ve seen less tension in romance movies.”
“I swear, sometimes I think you two don’t even need us here,” Carson added, laughing. “You exist in your own little world.”
Aurelle barely heard them. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her fingers curling against the fabric of her skirt beneath the table. It wasn’t just teasing anymore. It wasn’t something she could roll her eyes at and dismiss.
Because the problem was—
They weren’t wrong.
Aurelle knew it now, knew it too well, and it made her stomach twist in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
The teasing dissolved into background noise, and Aurelle sat there, rigid, breathing through the weight in her chest.
The movie night had changed everything. And the worst part? Solenne could see it. She could see through every crack in Aurelle’s carefully built defenses, every hesitant movement, every stolen glance. And if she hadn’t figured it out yet, it was only a matter of time.
The thought made Aurelle’s stomach lurch.
She wasn’t ready for that. For what it meant. For what would come next.
She needed to get herself together. Needed to pretend that nothing had changed. Needed to make sure Solenne never saw the full weight of what was unraveling inside her.
But Solenne wasn’t going to let this go.
And Aurelle wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending.
-
Solenne had always been good at reading Aurelle.
She had never really thought about it before—it was just something natural, something effortless. A glance, a shift in tone, the slightest hesitation in a response, and Solenne knew exactly what was going on in Aurelle’s head. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. They didn’t need words to understand each other.
But now? Now she didn’t understand anything at all.
It started subtly. Aurelle was quieter than usual, not in the comfortable, thoughtful way she sometimes got when she was lost in her own mind, but in a way that felt… distant. Cautious.
At first, Solenne brushed it off. Maybe Aurelle was just tired. Maybe she had a lot on her mind. Maybe she just needed space. And yet, the way Aurelle avoided her gaze, the way she tensed ever so slightly when Solenne reached out to touch her—it nagged at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
She had tried to ignore it, but the signs only grew more obvious. The flinches, the hesitations, the way Aurelle no longer leaned into her touch like she used to. Solenne wasn’t used to the distance between them. Theirs had always been a closeness without question, an unspoken understanding that neither of them had ever had to define.
And suddenly, it wasn’t there anymore.
The realization that something had changed hit her like a slow, creeping tide, pulling her further and further out to sea before she even realized she was drowning in it.
And then came lunch.
She watched as Aurelle sat at the farthest end of their usual table, as if the space between them had become something necessary. Something deliberate. The way Aurelle picked at her food, never once looking up, was enough for Solenne to know this wasn’t just in her head.
“You’ve been acting weird.”
She kept her voice light, casual, but the weight behind it was heavy.
Aurelle stiffened, her fork pausing mid-motion before clinking against the plate. “No, I haven’t.”
Oh, so they were playing this game now?
Solenne arched a brow. “Oh, really? So you didn’t just look like you saw a ghost when I tried to pass you the water bottle?”
Nova, ever the opportunist for drama, immediately perked up. “Wait, what’s happening?”
“Nothing is happening,” Aurelle said quickly, too quickly.
Solenne tilted her head, watching her. That was the thing about Aurelle—she could be quiet, composed, even serious at times. But she was also transparent in ways she didn’t realize. Solenne could see the way her shoulders tensed, the way she kept her gaze stubbornly locked onto her plate.
“You sure?” Solenne asked, softer this time. Testing the waters.
Aurelle hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before forcing out a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Obviously.”
Liar.
The conversation moved on, but Solenne’s mind didn’t.
She wasn’t sure when it started, but suddenly, she was watching everything Aurelle did with a different kind of focus. The way she pressed her lips together, as if swallowing down words. The way she angled her body away from Solenne like she was afraid of being too close. The way she kept blinking, like she was trying to force away thoughts she didn’t want to have.
And the way that hurt far more than it should have.
She wanted to believe it wasn’t about her, that it was just some passing phase, some mood Aurelle would shake off in a few days. But deep down, she knew better. This shift, this change—whatever it was, it wasn’t temporary.
And if Solenne was being honest with herself, that scared her.
Because if things were changing, then that meant there was something to change from.
Because maybe, just maybe, they had been something all along