A Wrong Turn – Or Maybe the Right One?
Milk doesn’t realize she’s missed the turn to Love’s house until they’re halfway down a quiet, empty road leading nowhere.
She curses under her breath, gripping the wheel.
Milk:"Shit. I wasn’t paying attention."
Love: (amused) "Oh? Thinking about me too much?"
Milk’s grip tightens. This girl is gonna be the death of her.
Milk:"Shut up."
Love just laughs. But it’s softer this time—less cocky. More… something else.
Something that makes Milk’s stomach feel weird.
She pulls the car into a random overlook—one of those secluded spots where couples probably sneak off to make out. She has no idea why she stops there, but before she can overthink it—
Love:"Nice view."
Milk turns her head—and freezes.
Love isn’t looking at the city lights stretching below them.
She’s looking at her.
Milk swallows, her mouth suddenly dry.
Milk:"You’re staring."
Love:"Maybe."
Her voice is quieter now. Less teasing.
Milk should look away. Should throw some sarcastic remark at her.
But she doesn’t.
Because for the first time—Love isn’t smirking. Isn’t acting like she’s untouchable.
She’s just… looking.
Like she’s seeing something in Milk she hasn’t before.
And Milk?
She’s looking right back.
It happens so fast that Milk doesn’t even register who moves first.
One second, they’re just sitting there. The next—Love is leaning in, and Milk isn’t stopping her.
It’s slow. Not hesitant, but deliberate.
Like Love is testing her. Like she’s waiting to see if Milk will pull away.
She doesn’t.
Love’s perfume is everywhere—something expensive, something sweet. The heat between them is undeniable.
Milk’s heart is pounding so loud she swears Love can hear it.
Their noses brush.
Love tilts her head, her breath warm against Milk’s lips.
Milk should say something. Should stop this before it turns into something she can’t take back.
But then—
Love: (whispering) "You’re not running away."
Milk exhales shakily.
Milk:"You’d chase me if I did."
Love grins—just slightly.
Love:"You’re right."
And then—
She closes the gap.
The moment their lips meet, it’s electric.
Love isn’t hesitant—she never is. She kisses like she does everything else: confident, in control, like she knows she’s already won.
Milk?
Milk is hesitant. Because what the hell is she doing?
But the second Love’s fingers slip into her hair, pulling her just a little closer—Milk stops thinking.
She leans in, deepening the kiss, letting herself fall for just a second.
Love makes a soft noise against her lips, something between a sigh and a hum of approval, and it wrecks Milk.
The warmth, the way Love’s nails gently scrape against the back of her neck—it’s too much, but not enough at the same time.
She hates how good it feels.
Hates that she doesn’t want to stop.
But then—
Love pulls back just slightly, breathless, eyes dark.
Love: (smirking) "So… still hate me?"
Milk stares at her.
Then, without missing a beat—
Milk: (deadpan) "Absolutely."
Love laughs, throwing her head back, and fuck, she’s gorgeous.
Milk clenches her jaw, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping her from dragging Love right back in.
Milk:"Get out of my car."
Love: (grinning) "Make me."
And that is how Milk knows she’s screwed.
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They don’t talk much on the drive back.
Love is still smiling, like she’s got some secret Milk doesn’t know.
Milk? She’s gripping the wheel too tight, her brain running in circles.
She kissed her.
She kissed Love.
And worse? She liked it.
This is bad.
Really, really bad.
Because Love? She’s the type to turn things into a game. To play with people just because she can.
And Milk?
She doesn’t play games she can’t win.
As she pulls up to Love’s ridiculous mansion, she doesn’t say anything.
But when Love starts to leave—
Milk catches her wrist.
Love blinks, caught off guard.
For once, she doesn’t have a smart remark ready.
Milk meets her gaze, serious.
Milk:"Don't mess with me."
It’s not a warning. It’s a plea.
A silent don’t break me.
Something flickers in Love’s expression—something Milk can’t place.
Then, Love does something unexpected.
She lifts Milk’s hand to her lips. Presses the softest, most fleeting kiss to her knuckles.
Love: (softly) "I never play games I don’t want to lose."
And then—she’s gone.
Leaving Milk in her car, heart racing, completely and utterly ruined.
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Milk tells herself she’s fine. That the kiss was nothing.
That it was just some stupid heat-of-the-moment thing, and that Love was probably already onto her next little game.
But then—
Her phone buzzes.
Love [1:12 AM]:Still awake, driver?
Milk groans, rolling onto her stomach, glaring at the message like it personally offended her.
She could ignore it. Should ignore it.
But instead—
Milk [1:14 AM]:Go to sleep.
Love [1:15 AM]:Make me ;)
Milk squeezes her eyes shut. She’s testing you. Don’t fall for it.
But when her phone buzzes again—
Love [1:17 AM]:Bet you’re thinking about it. Thinking about me.
Milk?
Milk throws her phone across the bed and screams into her pillow.
Because she is.
And she hates that she is.
The Next Day –
Milk really thinks she can avoid her.
She refuses to text back. Pretends the night before never happened.
But the universe?
It hates her.
Because the second she walks into the café for her usual coffee—
Love is there.
Sitting at her usual table. Looking obnoxiously good in some designer outfit, twirling a spoon between her fingers.
Milk freezes.
Love looks up. Sees her. Smirks.
Milk knows she should turn around and walk out.
But before she can—
Love: (grinning) "Oh, there you are. Thought you died."
Milk exhales sharply, walking straight past her, ignoring her.
Love, of course, does not accept this.
She follows.
Slides into the seat across from her.
Milk doesn’t even look up.
Milk: (flatly) "Go away."
Love:"Aw, come on, driver. Don’t be like that."
Milk clenches her jaw.
Love leans in.
Too close.
Love: (softly) "You’re running again."
Milk’s fingers tighten around her cup.
Because Love is right.
She is running.
Because if she stops—
She might fall.
And falling for someone like Love?
That’s dangerous.
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Milk should leave. She knows she should leave.
But she doesn’t.
She stays.
Lets Love push, lets her poke at the cracks Milk swore she’d never let anyone see.
And worst of all?
She lets her win.
Milk: (low, warning) "You think this is a game?"
Love: (smiling) "Isn’t it?"
Milk stares at her.
Then, she does something stupid.
She leans in.
Closer than before.
Milk: (quiet, dangerous) "What happens when you lose?"
For the first time—Love falters.
Just a little. Just for a second.
But Milk sees it.
And that?
That’s what makes her snap.
One moment, she’s seated. The next, she’s pulling Love in, kissing her like she’s trying to prove something.
Love gasps against her lips, but she doesn’t pull away.
No, she grips Milk’s collar and drags her in deeper.
It’s messy. Desperate.
Nothing soft about it.
Because this isn’t romance.
This is war.
And neither of them are willing to lose.
Milk pulls back first.
Breath heavy. Thoughts a mess.
Love looks at her like she’s just won a bet.
Love: (smug, breathless) "There she is."
Milk wants to be mad. Wants to tell Love to go to hell.
But she can’t.
Because she’s still holding onto her.
Fingers still curled in the fabric of Love’s coat.
And Love?
She’s waiting.
Waiting to see if Milk will run again.
But this time—
She doesn’t.
Milk: (gritted) "You’re gonna ruin me."
Love just smiles.
Love: (softly) "Took you long enough to notice."
And that?
That’s the moment Milk knows.
She’s already lost.
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Milk doesn’t show up at the café the next morning.
Or the next.
Or the next.
She’s avoiding her. Avoiding what happened.
Because if she sees Love again—
She knows she’ll do something stupid.
Like kiss her again.
Or worse.
Want her.
And that? That’s dangerous.
But of course, Love doesn’t tolerate being ignored.
So when Milk walks into her apartment one evening, exhausted from pretending she’s fine—
Love is already there.
Sitting on her kitchen counter. Legs crossed.
Like she belongs there.
Milk nearly drops her keys.
Milk: (stunned) "How the hell did you get in?"
Love: (grinning) "You think a locked door can keep me out?"
Milk exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Milk: (gritted) "I need to start filing restraining orders."
Love hops off the counter, closing the space between them.
Love: (mocking) "Aw, driver. You wound me."
Milk backs up. Hits the wall.
Love’s eyes?
They flicker with something dangerous.
Love: (softly) "Why are you running again?"
Milk swallows.
Because she knows why.
Because the last time they were this close, she kissed her like she was starving.
And she wants to do it again.
Love sees it. Sees everything.
And she doesn’t hesitate.
She grips Milk’s jacket, pulls her in—
And this time, Milk doesn’t fight it.
She lets it happen.
Lets Love kiss her senseless, lets herself fall.
Because resisting?
That’s not an option anymore.
Milk wakes up to the scent of expensive perfume on her sheets the next morning.
To the feeling of Love, still tangled in her arms, breathing softly against her neck.
And that?
That’s when reality hits.
Milk stares at the ceiling.
Regretting everything.
Milk’s thoughts:I should’ve thrown her out last night.
But then—Love stirs.
Slowly opens her eyes.
Sees Milk awake.
And smirks.
Love: (hoarse, teasing) "Morning, driver."
Milk groans, shoving a pillow over her face.
Love just laughs.
Because she knows.
Milk is screwed.
And now?
There’s no turning back.
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Milk paces outside Love’s stupid, enormous mansion.
Hands in her pockets. Jaw tight.
She shouldn’t be here.
But last night—
Last night changed everything.
She thought she could brush it off. Thought she could keep pretending that this was just some twisted game between them.
But when she woke up to Love still there, looking at her like she mattered—
Milk knew.
She’s done fighting this.
She rings the bell.
Love opens the door way too fast, like she was waiting.
Love: (grinning) "Well, well. Look who came crawling ba—"
Milk:"I like you."
(Beat.)
Love’s smirk vanishes.
Milk exhales sharply. Runs a hand through her hair.
Milk: (firm) "I don’t wanna play anymore. I don’t wanna pretend like this is just some stupid game. I like you, Love. And it pisses me off how much I do."
Love blinks. Once. Twice.
And then—
She laughs.
Milk scowls.
Milk: (gritted) "Are you serious? I’m baring my goddamn soul here, and you’re—"
Love grabs her collar and yanks her in.
Kisses her so hard that it knocks the breath out of her.
Milk freezes for a split second—then melts into it, gripping Love’s waist like she never wants to let go.
When they pull apart, Love is beaming.
Love: (softly) "Took you long enough, driver."
Milk groans, pressing her forehead against Love’s.
Milk:"I swear to God, if you call me that one more time—"
Love: (grinning) "What? You gonna kiss me again?"
Milk huffs.
And then—
She does.
Because screw it.
She’s all in.