Chapter 32
The world slowed as Freen’s lips pressed against Becky’s.
At first, Becky was caught off guard by Freen’s bold move, breath stolen by the sudden press of lips—but then, after a heartbeat of shock, she met the fire with her own, accepting the unspoken challenge and giving her very first kiss everything she had.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was real—as if the universe had spent years carving this moment out of stardust and silence. (oops, let’s not talk about the universe though ;)
Their mouths moved in sync, not urgently, but with the kind of rhythm you find only in a song that’s been replaying in your soul long before you ever heard it.
And that’s when it happened.
Somewhere beyond the trees, echoing faintly across the campus, music spilled from the dormitory courtyard. The air carried a heartbeat—deep bass, gentle vocals—Troye Sivan’s voice floating just enough for the moment to feel... divinely timed.
"Strawberries & Cigarettes".
🎵 Remember when we first met?
You said light my cigarette...
So I lied to my mom and dad
And jumped the fence and I ran...🎵
Becky thought it was all a dream so she said to herself what she always says “if it’s all a dream then at least in a dream i will give my best shot”. So she poured her heart out, devouring every bit of freen’s lips & tongue.
🎵 But we couldn't go very far
'Cause you locked your keys in your car
So you sat and stared at my lips
And I could already feel your kiss…. 🎵
Freen finally pulled back, only when the lack of air made it impossible to stay lost in the kiss—but even then, she didn’t part completely. Her forehead rested gently against Becky’s, breath mingling, as if neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away.
Freen’s breath lingered on Becky’s lips, still close, still trembling slightly from the kiss. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing, eyes half-lidded but wide open to the emotion they’d both been denying.
And soon Becky's tears rolled out in honour of this heavenly moment that she never thought would ever happen. Freen melted even more, wiped her tears with palms of her hands, lending a soft forehead kiss to Becky in assurance of it all being real.
To lighten up the mood, Freen let out a breath that was almost a laugh to the music playing in the background. “I didn’t need cigarettes,” she whispered. “You lit something in me with just a smile from the very beginning.”
Becky chuckled softly, her thumb grazing the edge of Freen’s jaw, grounding her. Her eyes shimmered with something more than affection—like awe, like relief.
The song was doing its magic and it became their backdrop of the moment.
🎵 Remember when you taught me fate
Said it'd all be worth the wait
Like that night in the back of the cab
When your fingers walked in my hand
Next day, nothin' on my phone
But I can still smell you on my clothes
Always hoping things would change
But we went right back to your games..🎵
Freen’s hand found Becky’s waist, pulling her closer. There was something reckless about the way they held each other now. As if they'd leapt over every fear, every rule fate had drawn in chalk around their hearts. As if they'd finally said screw it and ran toward the truth they'd buried under sibling labels and protective distance.
And Becky? She would give her whole life for spending moments like this with freen. (be careful there ;)
🎵 But we couldn't go very far
'Cause you locked your keys in your car
So you sat and stared at my lips
And I could already feel your kiss🎵
Freen’s gaze dipped—lingering.
She looked at Becky’s lips the way someone stares at a sunset they never want to end. She leaned in again, and this kiss—this second kiss—was even softer. Slower. Like reading poetry aloud with your mouth.
Like sealing a promise without words.
Freen whispered, "I’ve stared at your lips more times than I’ll admit."
Becky smiled into the kiss the way Freen’s sweet confession mode was on.
Even before tonight, Becky had felt it. In every close call. In every glance across lecture halls. In the ways everytime Freen walked away first, even when her heart stayed behind.
This kiss wasn’t new—it had just been waiting. Dormant. Like a song paused mid-melody.
And now?
Now it played.
🎵 Long nights, daydreams
Sugar and smoke rings
I’ve been a fool…
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you 🎵
The taste of strawberry lip balm clung to Becky’s mouth—Freen’s favorite flavor, always kept in her coat pocket. But now, it was her. The strawberry. The cigarette. The addiction.
Freen pulled back just an inch, lips barely apart from Becky’s, their breaths tangled like smoke between them.
“You smell like strawberries,” Freen murmured, dizzy with affection.
Becky’s fingertips brushed Freen’s cheek, her smile half-shy, half-mischievous. “You taste like trouble.”
Freen grinned, that lazy grin that only came out when her walls were all down.
(though it could have triggered her but rightnow she was intoxicated, not with liquor but becky’s kisses)
🎵Even if I run away
Give my heart a holiday
Still strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you 🎵
Becky had tried, hadn’t she?
Tried to stay in the “safe” zone. Tried to keep it platonic. Tried to accept fate’s definition of their bond.
But no matter how far she ran—toward her career, toward music, toward distraction—it always circled back to her. To Freen. Her voice. Her scent. Her chaos.
Her comfort.
Freen brushed her knuckles over Becky’s temple, then down to her chin, cradling it gently.
“You haunt me,” she whispered, not as a complaint, but as a confession.
“And you,” Becky whispered back, voice trembling, “are the only ghost I’ll never want to exorcise.”
🎵 And I always let you burn my lips
I just wanted to touch your kiss 🎵
Their mouths met again.
This time, Freen kissed her deeper, like she was trying to memorize her. To brand the feeling into her bones. Like she didn’t care if it burned—she wanted it to burn.
And Becky welcomed it. She wrapped her arms around Freen’s shoulders, her fingers tangling into her hair, grounding her, guiding her.
This wasn't fate.
This was them—taking back the pen, rewriting the stars with trembling hands and strawberry-soaked mouths.
This wasn’t new love. This was old, unspoken love that had matured in silence. That had waited through stolen glances and nervous laughter and invisible strings and unsent messages.
And now, finally, it had found the courage to bloom.
Not in the sunlight.
But here—
In the cold, in the dark, where only the echo of distant music from a campus party hummed faintly like a lullaby for hearts beating in sync.
Freen, still holding Becky as if the world might pull her away any second, rested her forehead gently against hers. A breath shared. A pause that felt like a vow.
And in the hush between them, she whispered:
“Even if fate comes knocking… I’ll lock the door.”
Becky closed her eyes, heart full, lips curved into the kind of smile that knows love,
and whispered back,
“I’ll be waiting on the other side.”
Freen had no idea what this liquid courage was doing to her—not really.
It wasn’t just the alcohol. It was everything she’d buried and bolted shut. Everything fate told her she wasn’t allowed to want.
But now—walls collapsing like sandcastles, fear drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat—she just didn’t care.
Not tonight. Not with Becky this close. Not with her lips tasting like answers Freen was always too scared to ask for.
And Becky…
Oh, Becky felt it too.
The way Freen kissed her like she had something to prove—something to protect.
Like every second was borrowed time.
Becky kissed back with equal fire, her heart silently pleading to the stars above,
Oh god, don’t let this night end…
Not yet.
Not when it’s finally beginning.
As the last lingering note of Strawberries & Cigarettes faded into the night, Freen reached for Becky’s hand and quietly led her back inside.
The once silent room, once haunted by unspoken feelings, now felt like a sacred witness—still echoing with the aftertaste of their kiss, the ghost of music still thrumming in their veins.
Climbing back in through the balcony window, the air around them had shifted. Charged. Breathless.
And Becky didn’t waste a second.
She spun Freen around and pushed her against the wall, crashing her lips onto hers like it was the only course in a long-awaited feast. Like she’d been starving and Freen was finally hers to taste.
Freen gasped mid-kiss, laughing softly into Becky’s mouth, delighted—maybe even a little turned on—by her boldness.
“Oh, so that’s how we’re doing this?” she teased.
In one swift motion, Freen reversed their positions and guided Becky backward onto the couch, pinning her down with a smirk that said: let me show you who is the boss here.
She hovered over Becky, their bodies colliding like two perfect puzzle pieces falling into place.
The kiss deepened—tongue, teeth, and soft moans swallowed between them. The sounds of their kisses filled the quiet room, bouncing off the walls like echoes of a secret language.
But Becky, catching her breath between gasps, gently pushed Freen back with a playful glint in her eye.
“It’s getting too hot, P’Freen…” she whispered, voice trembling between desire and mischief.
Freen leaned back, settling on the couch, slightly panting. “You want me to sto—”
“NO,” Becky squealed, cutting her off and grabbing her hand.
Before Freen could tease her again, Becky tugged her toward the bed—claiming control. She pushed Freen down gently, straddling her, but her lips didn’t go for the mouth this time. No, she knew better. Knew how to make her Ice Queen melt.
She kissed her everywhere else—the curve of her jaw, the line of her collarbone, the tender space behind her ear—each kiss a slow burn.
And Freen? She was unraveling. Fast.
The feel of Becky’s hands sliding over her toned abs, the way their bodies brushed and arched into one another—it was getting impossible to hold back.
With a soft groan and a swift move, Freen flipped them again, pinning Becky beneath her like gravity had finally taken over.
She grabbed both of Becky’s playful, wandering hands and held them firmly above her head. Becky let out a dramatic whine, pouting up at her.
“That’s not fair,” she whispered, pretending to pout, knowing exactly how her voice would land.
Freen leaned closer, smirking. “Oh, but everything is fair in—”
She paused.
Their eyes locked. Words suspended in the air.
They both knew how that sentence ended.
And before the silence could grow awkward or heavy, Freen dipped back down and kissed her—hard and full and greedy.
Because she was addicted. Addicted to Becky’s lips like they were the only taste she ever wanted again.
And Becky? She was trying to hold back, to savor it. But the way Freen’s hands moved—tracing her curves, memorizing her skin—made it nearly impossible.
Her heart was racing, her breath ragged. Their bodies danced in sync, brushing, pressing, teasing. She tried, really tried to calm the ache growing inside her—but she couldn’t.
Because Freen wasn’t just touching her.
She was claiming her.
And Becky never wanted it to stop.
They were stalling. Or maybe they were just suspended—caught in the gravity of each other, heartbeats and hormones making it impossible to hold anything back for much longer.
But someone had to make the bold move.
And, of course, we all know who it was going to be.
With a playful push, Becky shifted Freen back and crawled toward the bedrest, her fingers wrapping around Freen’s wrist, pulling her along.
As Becky sat up and leaned back, dress straps slipping ever so slightly from her shoulders, her eyes sparkled with mischief. Freen followed, her breathing shallow, gaze locked on the girl who was quite literally undoing her.
Becky’s hands went for Freen’s shirt.
Freen, who was still in pants and button-up, looked down in surprise just as Becky started unfastening the first few buttons with deliberate slowness. But before she could get too far, Freen gently caught her hand, her fingers wrapping around Becky’s wrist.
“Bec…” Freen breathed, voice low, somewhere between a plea and a warning.
She gave Becky a look—a soft, shy smile that trembled at the edges, laced with restraint. “Let’s not rush, okay?”
“Whattt?” Becky whined, tilting her head with exaggerated frustration. “I can’t take it anymore, babe. Let’s just get started already.”
Freen let out a soft chuckle, trying not to show how weak she already was. “No way. Too soon. Too much,” she murmured, even though her body was practically aching to give in.
Becky raised her brows, clearly unimpressed. “Seriously?”
Freen hesitated, her voice almost too honest. “You just turned eighteen. You're still a kid, and you want me to—”
But Becky didn’t let her finish.
She surged forward, capturing Freen’s lips in a searing kiss that knocked the breath from her lungs. Rising up on her knees, Becky deepened the kiss while her fingers went to the zipper at the back of her dress. It slid down with a soft, deliberate sound that sent a jolt through Freen’s spine.
Freen groaned under her breath, leaning back just a little as Becky pulled away.
“Oh, you’ll be begging for it,” Becky smirked, tugging the dress off her shoulders.
Freen immediately covered her eyes with both hands, overwhelmed. “Oh my god. Becky—”
Becky tilted her head, laughing at her. “As if you’ve never seen it before.”
Freen peeked between her fingers and in protest said. “I’ve never seen you… nak—”
“Well, now you do,” Becky interrupted, slipping out of her dress completely.
Freen dropped her hands, mouth falling slightly open. Her eyes were wide, frozen—like a deer caught in headlights. Speechless. Breathless.
Becky caught the look and smirked.
“I thought you liked my eyes,” she teased, crawling forward, closing the gap between them.
Freen blinked, still stunned.
“But anyway,” Becky whispered against her cheek, “as long as you like any shade of brown…”
“Bec…” Freen warned again, her voice a husky tremble.
But Becky didn’t stop.
She kissed her. Hard. Full of heat and promise and every unspoken thing between them.
In that moment, there was no doubt.
Becky was the boss.
Soon, Becky had undressed Freen too, and they found themselves tangled beneath white blankets, dancing in a quiet rhythm—skin against skin, hearts racing, breaths uneven.
They were bare, in every sense.
Freen hadn’t fully come to terms with sanctifying Becky's innocence—not yet. She couldn’t go all the way with becky. Not when she didn’t even know what tomorrow would bring… not when her every action tonight felt like a dare against fate, a rebellion she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
But even in her hesitation, Freen didn’t leave Becky high and dry. No, not even close.
There were other ways to worship this love. And Freen, with all her restraint, found every one of them.
She made Becky ache in ways Becky never imagined—slow, aching, beautiful ways. Every inch of her pulsed with the memory of Freen’s hands… her mouth… her tongue… her teeth. The way their bodies fit together like a puzzle finally solved. The way they moved, shuffled, twisted, pulled, collapsed, and held.
Becky may have made the bold moves, but it was Freen who sharpened their skill. Freen who taught Becky how to slow dance in the dark with nothing but skin and silence.
And somewhere between gasps and laughter and whispers that were barely words, they fell asleep—no one really knew when.
All we know is this:
There was a quiet night. White sheets, Two naked souls tangled together like a calm flame trapped in an ice cube ready to get into a glass of neat scotch, the holy drink of fate.
Unaware of what the morning would bring them in breakfast.
Was it all Freen’s liquid courage?
Or her fear of losing something she never had the courage to claim?
Or maybe… just maybe… It was Becky’s fearless confession & bold moves that brought them here on Freen’s bed—meant for one, but somehow, customized just for them?
Let’s wait for Freen to open her eyes to the truth bathed in morning light. And for Becky to realize—this wasn’t a dream. It was real. It was hers. It was theirs.
Let’s wait…. Can you?
______________________________________________________________________
P.S. Look at you, grinning ear to ear… Trust me, I don’t want to pop the bubble, but buckle up your seatbelt, ’cause turbulence is on the way. Oh, we know it—they had it coming.