Not a Cliché

“This has gone too far.”

Laf sighed. They didn’t know why they bothered closing the door when Carmilla would so often just fling it open.

“What now?”

“I remember when you used to be a supportive friend.”

“I remember when I used to care about your problems.”

“She’s hugging me now.”

“Who?”

“You know very well who.” Laf grinned and Carmilla sunk onto their bed. “Since when did we hug is what I want to know.”

“Isn’t this what you want? To hug her, and kiss her, and hold her nice and close.”

Laf dodged a pillow thrown their way. “She smells of cinnamon,” Carmilla sighed, causing Lafontaine to start laughing. “I knew I shouldn’t have started being nice to her.”

Lafontaine’s laughter only increased as Carmilla covered her eyes.

“This is nice. I like seeing you pining.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You should tell her how you feel.

“That is disgusting advice.”

“I don’t think she hates you too much anymore.”

“Wow.” Carmilla threw her arms up dramatically. “In that case let me grab the candles and Sinatra cds.”

“That’s how you’d woo a girl?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “I don’t go on many dates anymore.”

“Just slows you down, huh.”

Carmilla regretted throwing the second pillow when she laid back and had nothing to lie on.

//

Carmilla stared at the umbrella with distain. She wasn’t going to do it. The rain was pounding on the windows of her dorm room, Laura was at class, and Laura’s umbrella was on her bed. And she wasn’t going to do it. Class was ten minutes away. Five at a jog. She wasn’t going to do it.

She snatched the umbrella up with pure hatred and threw her hood up as she exited the building. She hated herself so much at that moment.

Laura’s class was letting out just as she arrived. Hoods were drawn and coats pulled on, and Carmilla saw Laura looking frantic in only a sweater. She sighed in resignation and was about to step out when Carmilla grabbed her wrist.

“Here.” She almost winded Laura thrusting the umbrella at her. “Maybe pick up a weather report once in a while.”

“You brought my umbrella?”

“You forgot it.”

“You’re soaking.”

“Rain does that.”

“But why didn’t you use the umbrella.”

Carmilla scoffed. “I’m too cool for an umbrella.”

Laura observed Carmilla with the ends of her hair wet and bedraggled and the eyeliner she perpetually wore beginning to smudge. “You’ve looked cooler.”

Carmilla scowled. “I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be gross.”

Carmilla walked away and Laura put the umbrella up before hastening after her. She tried to shield her from the rain but Carmilla rolled her eyes and sidestepped so she was in the downpour.

“Cool people don’t use umbrella’s, cutie.”

“But they walk ten minutes in the rain to bring them to their roommate?” Laura said with a grin. “Did you break something and trying to butter me up before I see it?”

Carmilla gasped in mock offence. “I can be nice, you know.”

“I know.” Laura was still grinning. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Good.”

Carmilla sped up and Laura trailed after her, confused but happy.

 //

“You know,” said Betty conversationally, “we’ve been here for about twenty minutes now and you haven’t complained about Karnstein once. This must be some kind of record.”

Laura shrugged, engrossed in her eggs.

“So you’re friends now?” Betty asked.

“I wouldn’t say friends.” Laura shovelled more breakfast. “We’re not not friends. Friends adjacent, maybe.”

“That’s quite a leap from hoping she gets eaten by something really big.”

Laura blushed. “I never said that.”

“Twice.”

“Yeah, well. We’re…” Laura didn’t know what they were. Certainly not friends. But she didn’t hate Carmilla as much anymore. Not even slightly. “I don’t know. We’re getting along now. Leave it at that.”

“Speak of the devil.”

When Laura looked up and past Betty she saw Carmilla outside the diner. She was in a winter coat, still quite thin because she was too cool for parkas, and talking to a tall woman. It took a moment for Laura to recognise her.

“Is that the Dean?” she hissed, ducking her head. Betty watched her with a frown. “She scares me,” Laura explained. The Dean reached out and cupped Carmilla’s cheek, and Laura frowned. “That’s weird. That’s weird, right.”

Betty looked behind her. “It’s her mother.”

“What?” Laura’s fork crashed onto her plate. She checked to see if Carmilla or the Dean heard, even though they were outside. “Her mother?”

“How do you not know this? You live with her.”

“We don’t exactly talk.”

“It’s not a secret. Don’t you want to be a journalist?”

Laura shrugged. The Dean was still touching Carmilla’s cheek, and Laura could see some discomfort written on her roommates face, but she didn’t pull away. “I can’t believe she never told me.”

“You just said that you two don’t talk.”

“Still.  Oh god I’ve insulted her mother so much.” Laura hid her face in her hands. Betty just laughed.

“Trust me, can’t be any worse than what Carmilla says about her.”

Laura peaked through her fingers. The Dean had dropped her hand and was still talking. Carmilla’s line of sight was focused on the ground. Her face looked calm but her fists were clenched.

“Can’t be easy,” she said quietly.

“Huh?”

“Having the Dean as a mom. Must be difficult.”

“I would say so.”

“How come she talks to me and not you?”

“I’ve never thrown a spatula at her.”

Laura coloured again. “That was one time.” Carmilla had a way of bringing out an aggressive side of Laura she didn’t even know she had. “And I missed.”

The Dean was finally turning away and Carmilla was left standing. Laura was debating whether to go outside when Carmilla started to head into the diner.

“She’s coming.” Laura was aware there was nothing to duck behind but did it anyway. “Hopefully she doesn’t see us.”

“Make sure to stay down. Karnstein!” Betty waved to Carmilla, who was ordering something. She grinned when Laura kicked her under the table.

“Spielsdorf.” Carmilla came over. She smirked at Laura, who had straightened up quickly. “Hollis.”

“Hi. Hey. Didn’t see you there.”

“Right,” Carmilla sniggered. “Is that a vegetable?” She nodded at Laura’s plate.

“Avocado.”

“Are you ill?”

“I’m trying to eat healthier.”

“Probably wise.” She turned her attention back to Betty. “We still on for later?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?”

“That’s the spirit.” Her name was called from the counter. “Best be off. Spielsdorf.” She winked at Laura. “Cutie.”

Laura waved awkwardly with her fork. Betty was beaming. “What was that?” she asked once Carmilla has left.

Laura shrugged. “Civility?”

“That was flirting.”

“Was not.”

“How have you got Karnstein to flirt with you? You have absolutely no game.”

“I have some game.”

“You do not.”

“That wasn’t flirting.”

Betty snorted, but held up her hands in defeat. “Whatever you say, Hollis.”

Laura went back to her breakfast. That definitely wasn’t flirting. It was just Carmilla being herself.

“What’s later?” she asked. She rolled her eyes when she saw Betty was still grinning.

“Party at Kirsch’s. You should come along.”

“No.”

“It will be fun.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yeah,” Betty said, “you are.”

//

If Carmilla had known the night would end with Laura’s arms around her shoulders and her lips pressed against her neck, she wouldn’t have gone to the party.

“You’re warm,” Laura told her, her voice muffled from her face being pressed in the crook of Carmilla’s neck. “And I’m drunk.”

Carmilla sighed heavily. Supporting a drunk Laura home was not high on her list of things she wanted to do. The girl was having trouble walking, and a casual “just hold onto me” had prompted Laura to fling her arms around Carmilla’s neck and jump on her back.

“We should’ve stayed,” Laura said, not for the first time.

“How many fingers are on your hand?”

Laura momentarily let go to stare at her hand. “Seven,” she answered confidently.

Carmilla chuckled and hoisted Laura higher. “Nearly home. Don’t fall asleep, okay.”

“Okay.” Laura rested her chin against the top of Carmilla’s head. “You’re doing something nice again.”

“Shush. Don’t go spreading that around.”

They arrived at the dorm and Carmilla dropped Laura onto her bed, apologising casually as her head bounced off the headboard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Laura asked her.

“Practice.”

“How much did you drink?”

“About twice as much as you.” That Laura was a lightweight didn’t surprise Carmilla too much. “You going to get ready for bed or just lie there?”

“The rooms tilting.”

“You’re falling on your side.”

“Oh.”

Carmilla found some of Laura’s sleep clothes and placed them on the bed. She knelt down to take off her shoes.

“Are you proposing?” Laura asked seriously. Carmilla laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me the Dean was your mother?”

Sighing, Carmilla threw Laura’s shoes into the corner. Since she saw her at the diner she had been expecting that question.

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’ve said bad things about her.”

“You’ve said bad things about me too. I just let it wash right off.”

“She’s your mother.”

“And I agree with most of the bad things you’ve said.”

“It must be hard,” Laura said in a low voice. Her eyes were earnest, but still slightly glassy. Carmilla clenched her jaw as she stood up.

“Why do we have these conversations when you’re drunk?”

“Because you’re hard to talk too when I’m not.”

“Get dressed.” Carmilla threw the clothes she gotten at her. “I’ll get you some water.”

In the bathroom Carmilla leant against the sink. The sounds of Laura struggling to figure out how clothing worked channelled through the closed door, but Carmilla was damned if she was going to go out and help her.

She looked at the hoodie she had taken for a moment before pulling it on, tugging the sleeves down so they covered her hands.

“Laura,” she called gently. “Did you win against the clothes?”

Snoring was her answer. She came out the bathroom to find Laura sprawled with the duvet covering her legs. Carmilla stared at the ceiling in attempted defiance before buckling and pulling the covers up to her chin. She placed the water by her bed.

//

Laura stared at the sock on the door, trying to work out if she could legitimise getting angry. On the one hand, Carmilla had adhered to the sock rule. On the other hand, Laura had a test tomorrow, which Carmilla knew about, and really needed to study.

She flung open the door, leaving a long enough gap for clothes to be pulled on in a hurry, and marched in.

Carmilla let out a long suffering sigh, like she was the one being severely inconvenienced.

“I did the sock.”

The girl was hastily pulling on trousers and smiling at Laura, half apologetic and half embarrassed. Laura wanted to tell her it was okay, she’d seen enough half naked girls from Carmilla’s side of the room that it barely even registered anymore.

“I have an exam.”

“I swear there’s this building somewhere with books and computers and quiet areas where one can study.”

“I study better here.”

“It’s fine,” the now fully dressed girl said quickly. “I’ll go.” A kiss and a promise and she was out the door.

“You’re really affecting my sex life, I want you to know that.”

“I want very little to do with your sex life.”

“If you had one of your own maybe you wouldn’t keep disturbing mine.”

Laura bit back any reply that might come off as judgmental and hurtful. Carmilla snorted like she’d won.

“I thought we’d got past this,” she sighed.

“What?” asked Carmilla innocently.

“You being you.”

“I did the damn sock.”

“You knew I had an exam.”

Carmilla fell back onto the bed. “I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“For you to maybe act like a normal human for a few weeks at a time.”

“I’m telling you, a bit of a sex life would really calm you down.”

“Stop.”

“Too personal? Isn’t that what roommates do? When should we move onto braiding hair?”

“Could you just…” Laura closed her eyes. Her exam was in eleven hours and she wanted at least five of those to sleep. “Be quiet or leave. I don’t mind which one.”

“What if I’m loud and I stay?”

Laura slammed her book shut and turned around on her chair. Carmilla raised an eyebrow from her place on the bed. “I don’t get you. One week you’re bringing me umbrellas and making sure I get home okay, and next you’re acting as though I’m the bane of your existence.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I don’t care about an overbearing mother or an ex-girlfriend you’re still in love with. They aren’t excuses for acting like this.” Carmilla’s eyes hardened significantly and she sat up straight. Her eyes were dangerous as they bore into Laura.

“What was that?”

“You’ve got issues with your mom. That’s easy to see. And people don’t keep the hoodies of girlfriends they’re over. I’m not surprised she broke up with you if this is the way you act.”

Carmilla stood up slowly, fists tight. “You don’t know a damn thing, Laura.” The quiet voice was almost worse than if she had been shouting. The door slammed behind her and Laura knew she was going to get no studying done.

//

Perry answered when Laura knocked, and frowned when she saw how meek the girl looked.

“Laura?”

“Carmilla’s gone again.”

Lafontaine appeared at the door looking equally confused. “I saw her yesterday. She can’t have been gone for long.”

Laura shook her head. “Since last night. But we got into an argument. I said some stupid things. I went to look for her but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Perry stepped back to let her as Lafontaine grabbed her phone. “She might just be with someone,” they tried to placate a guilty looking Laura. “What exactly did you say?”

“About her mom. And her ex.” Lafontaine and Perry both froze and looked at her sharply.

“Her what?”

“Which ever ex-girlfriend that hoodie she always wears belongs to. She obviously still hung up. I said it’s no wonder she broke up with her. I know,” She wanted them to stop looking at her like she’d sentenced Carmilla to hanging. “It was bad of me. I didn’t mean it.”

Lafontaine looked far more panic stricken than they had a moment ago. They looked at Perry, who put her hand up to indicate calm.

“Did she say that they had broken up?”

Laura shrugged. “I just assumed.”

Laf had forgone the phone and was pulling on shows. They looked close to anger.

“Laf, what…”

“Her girlfriend didn’t break up with her, Laura.” Perry calmly intercepted whatever Lafontaine was about to say. “She died.”

Laura felt her breath leave her and she sat down heavily. “She died?”

“Yeah.” Lafontaine ran their hand through their hair. “Three years ago. Look, it’s not our story to tell, but yeah. She had the same girlfriend since she was fourteen, and then she died. That does something to a person.”

She didn’t think it was possible to feel this bad. Guilt and sympathy was swirling and Laura felt sick. The hoodie, the girls, the heartbreak, Laura hadn’t even considered what else it could be.

She heard Laf tell Perry they was going to look and leave, and jumped as Perry sat down next to her.

“Lafontaine and I knew Carmilla when she was with Ell,” Perry said calmly. “I didn’t really like her then, but Lafontaine was very fond, so we had a lot to do with them both. Carmilla changed after Ell. She grieved, and she acted out, and she got help and then got better. Sometimes it seems like she’s completely okay, sometimes it seems like she’s going to fall apart any moment.”

“And I said…” Laura buried her face in her hands. She felt like crying.

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Lafontaine will find her. I meant what I said about her not doing something stupid.”

“I just wish she knew she could talk to me.”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I feel sick.”

“You should probably go back to your room, in case she returns. I can come with you.”

Laura shook her head. “It’s okay. Stay here for Laf. Let me know if they tell you anything?”

“Of course.”

//

The bottle was nearly empty and still Carmilla didn’t feel better. Getting drunk off cheap wine on a roof wasn’t one of her classiest moments. She drained the remaining liquid and leant her head back against the wall. She had found the girl Laura had disturbed, gone back to her place, then grabbed as much wine as she could carry and went to the roof, waiting for the inevitable arrival of Laf or Perry.

It was the former, which made it more tolerable, and Carmilla closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the pity in Laf’s.

They took a seat next to her and the now empty bottle was taken from her hands.

“I have another one if you want some.” Carmilla held up the wine and shook it.

“I’m good.” But it was taken from her anyway and placed out of reach. “Where did you go?” That question was forbidden, and that Laf was asking it made Carmilla wonder what Laura had told them.

“Sarah’s. Sandra’s. Not completely sure of her name.”

“Dark and broody type forgets girls names. Still not being a cliché?”

Carmilla opened her eyes, worried that if she kept them closed she would pass out. Laf looked slightly red.

“Did you run?”

They shrugged. “Wanted to find you.”

“I’m seriously not gonna jump.”

“I know that.”

“Can I have the wine back?”

“What do you think?”

A coat was thrust into her hands, but Carmilla pushed it away.

“I have all the insulation I need.”

“Alcohol doesn’t count.”

“Can we just skip to the bit when you tell me it will all be better and drag me back?”

“I don’t think it’s all going to be better.”

Carmilla laughed without humour and leant her head back. “You used to be supportive.”

“Laura told us what she said.” Carmilla closed her eyes tightly and willed away the rush of nausea and the pounding of her heart. “We told her about Ell.”

“What?” Carmilla rounded on Laf. “You had no right.”

“She said something stupid. We wanted to make sure she wouldn’t carry on saying something stupid.”

“That’s not your… you had no right.”

If Carmilla could sufficiently stand she would have stormed off, as it was she glared instead.

“Well you were never going to tell her.”

“How do you tell the girl you’re crushing on that the love of your life was killed?”

“I don’t know,” Laf told her. “And I don’t know how you handle it. But this isn’t the way.”

“Yeah? What is the way, Laf?”

“Not alone, for starters. Not by treating her the way you do. Look, I’m not condemning you, here,” they tried to reassure her as Carmilla turned away, “but that girl sees sunshine in everything. There are worse people for you to talk to.”

“You think I should start treating Laura as my therapist?”

“Or friend, maybe. You won’t talk to us.”

“That’s not…”

“I get it.” Lafontaine cut her off. “It’s okay. Me and Perry. We’re too close to it. There’s a before and there’s an after. You need an after.”

“I’m not spilling my deepest darkest thought to her,” Carmilla promised.

“That’s good. Don’t want to give the girl nightmares.” Laf grinned when Carmilla’s lips twitched. “But it might not be worse thing in the world giving friendship a shot. No matter how much fun you have bullying her.”

“Not bullying.”

“Carmilla.”

Carmilla hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“All I’m asking.”

They stayed in silence for a while.

“What did Laura say?” Carmilla asked quietly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed guilt as a tangible emotion before.”

“Great. Just what I wanted.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“There’s the speech.”

“I said fine. It won’t be better.”

“You’re terrible at talking someone off a ledge.”

“You have to make it better.”

“And you think Laura’s the way?”

“I do.”

“I don’t want to use her as something to throw my emotions at and hope they come back cured.”

“So don’t.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Solid advice. Thanks, Laf. What would I do without you?”

//

When she heard the door opening the next morning, Laura tried to pretend she hadn’t been pacing. She’d received a call last night from Lafontaine, telling her that Carmilla was okay and staying in their room that night.

“She hates me. I’m so sorry,” Laura bemoaned.

“She doesn’t hate you, Laura,” Laf assured her. “Trust me on that.”

Standing still as Carmilla slowly entered, Laura wanted to hug her but didn’t know how angry Carmilla would be.

Anger would have been better than the dark circles under eyes and frown on her face.

She rolled her eyes when she saw Laura dithering by her bed, unsure of what to do.

“It’s okay.” Carmilla stepped further into the room and closed the door. “We’re okay.”

Laura arms were thrown around her and she staggered backwards. Her face was pressed into her neck and she was crying, which did nothing to dispel the morbid feeling in Carmilla’s stomach.

“I’m so sorry.” Laura’s voice was muffled.

“You didn’t know.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it.”

Carmilla pushed Laura gently back. “If we’re going to start apologising for things then I should probably start soon or we’ll be here a while.”

Laura shook her head. “I should have been more sensitive.”

“Don’t use this to excuse me, cupcake,” Carmilla sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was tired and sad. “Can we just forget this happened?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“I get that. But I’m here. If you ever did.” Carmilla just nodded. “You look tired.” Another nod. “Sleep. I’m sure class can wait.”

Carmilla looked at her for a moment, and Laura wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She stepped forward and enveloped Laura in a hug that surprised her so much it took a moment to return.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Carmilla said, “And I can’t promise I won’t still be an ass. But don’t let me off, okay.”

“Okay,” Laura said quietly, like she worried speaking too loud would make Carmilla bolt.

“I’m blaming that on the tiredness.” Carmilla released her quickly and stepped back.

Laura beamed. “Sure.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise not to bring up that you totally just initiated a hug with me.” Carmilla rolled her eyes and stalked into the bathroom. “I mean it,” Laura shouted through the bathroom door. “I won’t tell a soul that you, Carmilla Karnstein, hugged me, Laura Hollis, voluntarily and of your own volition.”

//

“Why do you drink?”

“To drown my sorrows?”

Carmilla scoffed. “You have sorrows?”

Laura leant against her as she walked them back to their dorm. Carmilla had found Laura at the party standing dangerously close to a pond and dragged her away. By Laura’s inability to focus on her Carmilla had assumed she was far into the festivities. Laura had nodded mournfully when asked if she wanted to leave.

“I can have sorrows.”

“Worries, maybe. You’re not edgy enough for sorrows.”

“Can I have a piggy back?”

“No. You got my jacket muddy last time.”

“Last time?”

Carmilla was unsure whether Laura forgot their drunken talks or just didn’t remember them. She ignored the part of her that was hurt it was the latter.

“You remember how to walk, right?”

“I think so. Is left then right, or right then left?” Laura asked genuinely.

Carmilla grinned broadly. “Which is your favourite?”

“Right left, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Are we home yet?”

“Nearly.”

“Are you ever drunk?”

Carmilla laughed. “Yes. But I get drunk alone on rooftops like an adult.”

Laura became suddenly silent, and Carmilla was worried she’d pushed something. They’d avoided talking about Carmilla leaving, which suited Carmilla fine, but may not be the healthiest way of dealing with it.

She thought back to what Lafontaine had said, about Laura being a good person to talk to. But Laura was sunshine and puppies and seeing the best in people. Carmilla couldn’t, in all good conscience, drag that spark away from the girl.

“You shouldn’t,” said Laura, so quietly that Carmilla wouldn’t have heard if her head wasn’t lolling against her shoulder.

Carmilla heaved a sigh. This was the thing she was trying to avoid.

“Do you want that piggy back?”

Laura instantly perked up. “Really?”

“Keep your shoes off my jacket.”

Laura nodded earnestly, throwing her arms around Carmilla.

“Other way, Laura.”

“Right.” She moved to her back. They were silent for a moment as Carmilla walked, but Laura soon broke it. “Has anyone ever told you your pretty?”

“Yes,” said Carmilla. “Frequently.”

“I don’t just mean to look at.” Laura’s eyes were closed and her forehead was pressed into Carmilla’s neck. “I mean. I don’t know what I mean. Just pretty.”

“You need to work on your stamina.”

“This isn’t alcohol. Okay it is alcohol. But I mean it. You’re so sad. And so pretty. And I want to make things better.”

“You can’t.”

“I can try.”

“It’s just going to make you sad too.”

Laura shook her head, tickling the back of Carmilla’s neck. They’d made it to the dorm and Carmilla carefully put Laura down before opening the door. She knelt down to help Laura with her shoes after she sat on her bed.

“We have a tradition,” she giggled. Carmilla shook her head, but smirked as she aimed the shoes in the vague direction of the cupboard.

“You get drunk and I undress you?”

Carmilla went to get water. Laura was already under the covers by the time she returned.

“Tell me how to make things better and I will,” Laura said. She was looking at her far too intently, and Carmilla avoided her eyes.

“Doesn’t work like that, cutie. But just carry on being you, huh?”

Laura managed an impressive eye roll despite her inebriation. “Who else would I be?”

//

“You bake?"

"Jesus, Laura." Carmilla jumped as Laura appeared in the kitchen behind her. She looked offended, at a personal level, that Carmilla didn't divulge this information. "How did you find this?"

"It’s a community kitchen."

"I didn’t think you knew what an oven was."

"It’s late."

"I knew it would be empty."

"What are you baking?"

"If I tell you do you promise not to laugh?"

"No."

"Lemon drizzle.”

Laura grinned, thrilled by this news. "You don't seem like the type to bake."

"Yeah well." Carmilla picked up the bowl she had dropped when Laura scared her. "Don’t go spreading it around."

"You really are just pretending to be all broody and mysterious, right."

"Broody people can bake."

"Can I help?" Laura pulled herself up to sit on the counter.

Carmilla looked at her for a long moment like she was considering it.

"I'm not sure."

Laura rolled her eyes. "I can cook."

"This is baking. It’s much different.”

"Give me something easy."

"Blasphemy."

"Carm," Laura laughed. "Come on."

"Fine." Carmilla relented. "Icing."

"How do I do that?"

"Follow the packet."

Laura looked at her until Carmilla sighed and handed her the box and a bowl. "Waters in the sink. Think you can handle that?"

Laura grinned. "What made you start to bake?"

"Ell always did it. Eventually I gave in and started helping."

She side eyed Laura, who had frozen whilst pouting icing sugar into the bowl.

"We can mention it," Carmilla said gently. "I don't mind."

"Okay."

"Let’s not make it a habit."

"Right."

"But we can."

Laura nodded. "She baked?"

"Like being with Martha Stuart. Afterwards it just became a way to feel normal again."

Laura didn't know what to say, so just smiled a Carmilla, who returned it.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked.

"Stirring water into icing sugar. Yeah, you're doing great."

"Are you any good?"

Carmilla turned to her in outrage. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just asking." Laura laughed at how offended Carmilla was.

"I'm not just good, Laura."

"No?"

"I'm not saying this will be the best lemon drizzle you've ever tasted."

"I've tasted some pretty good ones."

"But it will be right up there."

"Can't wait."

Laura watched Carmilla pour the mixture into two trays and put them into the oven. She kicked it closed and turned to face Laura.

"How’s the consistency?" She grinned at Carmilla's eye roll as she lifted the fork and let the icing fall.

"Add some zest."

"Look at you with the fancy terms."

Laura caught the lemon thrown at her. She grated the skin, glancing up at Carmilla as she did.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Watch your fingers."

"You seem happy," Laura said. "Well, not happy. Just. Less sad."

Carmilla shrugged. She turned her attention to the icing to avoid looking at Laura.

"Baking," she said quietly.

"Makes you feel better."

Carmilla nodded. "Not just the baking."

"Yeah?"

"I like the night time."

"Such a philosophy major."

"And you're not too bad, either," Carmilla threw spoons into the sink. "Terrible at icing."

"Hey!"

"But as company goes. I could have worse."

Laura was quiet for so long Carmilla had no choice but to look at her. She had a dopey smile on her face and was poised in that way that suggested a hug.

Carmilla gestured to the sink with a tea towel to avoid. "Help me wash."

"I used one bowl."

"I thought you wanted to make things better for me."

"That's mean."

"This would make things better for me."

//

The pile of notecards Laura thrust at her took two hands to gold.

“This is extensive.”

“You said you’d help. I didn’t study because I was looking for you.”

“That was before I found out you were studying a small anthology.”

“I want to be prepared.”

Carmilla flipped over a card. “You don’t need to be this prepared.”

“They might ask.”

“Claudius’s favourite colour?”

“Purple.”

“Why is it a card if you know it?”

Laura shrugged and dived onto the bed next to her. She pulled a pillow onto her lap and faced Carmilla.

“We have seven hours.”

“Oh god.”

“Quiz me.”