A Night of Love (and pasta)
Freen moves around her dorm room with a quiet kind of determination, fluffing the pillows on the floor setup for what feels like the tenth time. The fairy lights cast a soft golden glow over the space, making it feel warm and intimate—the perfect setting for what she hopes will be the best surprise date ever. They had planned to hang out in her dorm room after Becky’s football practice, and Freen took that as an opportunity to plan a romantic date night for Becky.
She smooths down the blankets, making sure they’re layered just right, creating a cozy nest where they can sink in together. In the middle, she carefully places a small bouquet of baby’s breath—delicate and beautiful, just like Becky. She had hesitated before getting flowers, wondering if Becky would think it was too much, but in the end, she wanted every part of this night to show just how much she cared.
The air is rich with the scent of pasta bolognese, the first proper meal she’s ever cooked for someone else. She had spent way too much time watching tutorials, double-checking measurements, making sure the sauce was just right—all because it was Becky’s favorite.
The final touches come together quickly—a knock at the door signals the arrival of Becky’s favorite milk tea. Freen signs for it hurriedly, taking a deep breath as she adds it to the setup along with the snacks and popcorn they’ll share.
Then comes the hardest part—waiting.
She checks her phone for the third time in the last five minutes. No new messages, but Becky should be on her way soon. Freen sits down, running a hand through her hair, heart racing with anticipation.
This was the first time she had ever done something like this—planning something so personal, so romantic. It wasn’t flashy, but it was filled with her—her effort, her feelings, her love.
Now, all that was left was to see Becky’s reaction.
And Freen really, really hoped she would love it.
—
Becky jogs up the dorm hallway, exhausted from practice but buzzing with excitement. Seeing Freen after a long day was always the best part of her routine now—like a little reward waiting for her. She reaches the door and knocks lightly before pushing it open, expecting the usual sight of Freen casually lounging in bed or fiddling with something on her laptop.
But what she actually sees makes her freeze in place.
Her eyes widen as she takes in the fairy-lit glow of the room, the soft nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, the little bouquet of baby’s breath sitting in the center. The warm, rich aroma of pasta fills the air, and on the side, there’s a drink she instantly recognizes as her favorite milk tea.
Her gaze finally lands on Freen, who is standing there, shifting a little under Becky’s stunned silence, her lips curving into an almost hesitant smile.
“Babe... you… did all this? For me?” Becky’s voice is soft, almost disbelieving, as she looks around again, like she needs to take in every single detail properly.
Freen smiles shyly, suddenly nervous. “You always take care of me, so… I wanted to take care of you tonight.”
That’s it. That’s all it takes.
Becky launches herself at Freen, wrapping her arms around her neck, hugging her so tightly it nearly knocks the air out of both of them. Freen lets out a startled laugh but immediately wraps her arms around Becky’s waist, holding her just as close.
"I can't believe you," Becky murmurs into Freen’s shoulder, squeezing her tighter before pulling back just enough to look at her. Her eyes shine under the soft lights, completely and utterly smitten.
Freen tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “In a good way?”
Becky just grins, leaning in until their noses brush. “In the best way.”
Freen exhales a soft laugh, her own nervous energy melting into warmth as Becky presses their foreheads together for a moment, like she’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this loved.
And Freen thinks, maybe, this was worth every second of effort.
---
They settle onto the makeshift bed on the floor, plates in hand, the warm glow of fairy lights casting soft shadows around them. Becky sits cross-legged, eyeing the plate of pasta like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Alright babe, let’s see if you passed the test,” Becky teases before twirling her fork into the pasta and taking a generous bite.
The moment the flavor hits her tongue, she freezes. Her eyes go wide, and she stares at Freen like she just discovered something groundbreaking.
"Baby! This is actually so good!" she exclaims, covering her mouth as she chews, as if personally offended by how good it is. "You're officially in charge of feeding me now. No take-backs."
Freen laughs, cheeks tinged pink as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I had to make sure it was perfect for you. It’s your favorite, after all.”
Becky dramatically clutches her chest. "A girlfriend who cooks and is this cute? I really won the lottery."
Freen groans, nudging Becky’s leg playfully. "Eat your food, drama queen."
And so they do.
They share bites, steal food off each other’s plates like it’s second nature, sipping from Becky’s favorite milk tea in between. At one point, Becky tries to distract Freen with a compliment just to snag a forkful of her food, but Freen catches on quickly and lightly smacks her hand away with a laugh.
Between every few bites, Becky reaches for Freen’s hand, squeezing it, rubbing her thumb gently over her knuckles, unable to stop smiling. It’s the best part of her day—the kind of moment she wishes she could pause forever.
Freen watches her, soft and content, and thinks, Yeah. This was all worth it.
They sit there with their empty plates and a full and content belly.
The soft hum of music drifts through the room, blending seamlessly with the cozy warmth surrounding them. The fairy lights cast a golden glow, flickering gently, as if they, too, are swaying to the melody.
Becky hums along absentmindedly, still holding Freen’s hand, running her thumb over her knuckles in slow, lazy circles. Then, on a whim, she tugs Freen’s hands, pulling her up.
“Dance with me,” she says, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Freen blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“Just… dance with me.”
Freen, hopelessly weak for Becky’s smile, sighs but lets herself be pulled up.
The dance isn’t perfect—it’s barely even a dance—just soft swaying, arms wrapped around each other, a quiet rhythm of laughter and whispered words.
Becky presses in closer, resting her forehead against Freen’s, their breaths mingling.
“You’re too good to me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but Freen hears it clear as day.
Freen, heart hammering, doesn’t even think before replying, “You deserve it.”
Becky stills, her eyes searching Freen’s, something unreadable flickering in them. Then, she cups Freen’s face, fingers tracing her jawline like she’s memorizing her.
Their noses brush. A shared breath. A moment that stretches, delicate and unspoken.
And then, Becky kisses her.
It’s soft, slow, the kind of kiss that lingers, leaving warmth behind long after they part.
Freen melts into it, into her, into everything Becky is.
And in that moment, with the world quiet around them, nothing else matters.
After their little dance and the lingering warmth of shared kisses, they collapse onto the makeshift bed, wrapped in blankets, limbs tangled together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Freen grabs the remote, holding it out to Becky. “You pick.”
Becky grins, scrolling through the options. “That’s dangerous, you know. I could pick something awful just to mess with you.”
Freen gives her a flat look. “You already torture me daily. Just pick a movie.”
Becky laughs and finally settles on something. The movie starts, but soon, the real entertainment begins—Becky shamelessly hoarding the popcorn.
Freen reaches for the bowl, but Becky snatches it away, stuffing a handful into her mouth with a victorious smirk.
Freen gapes at her. “Excuse me? I literally made this date happen, and you’re stealing my popcorn?”
Becky, through a mouthful of popcorn: “Yes.”
Freen launches a counterattack, attempting to grab the bowl back. What starts as a simple grab turns into a full-blown food fight, with Becky tossing a piece at Freen’s forehead and Freen flicking one back at her.
“You planned this date, so you have to share!” Becky teases, eventually relenting and popping a piece into Freen’s mouth with an exaggerated “There, happy?”
Freen just chews, pretending to contemplate. “Hmm. Maybe one more.”
Becky rolls her eyes but feeds her another, this time letting her fingers linger a little longer against Freen’s lips.
The playful chaos eventually settles, the popcorn bowl placed safely between them. Becky leans her head on Freen’s shoulder, sighing in contentment.
Her fingers find Freen’s, tracing absentminded patterns over her knuckles, intertwining them without a second thought.
Freen glances down at her—soft lighting, sleepy eyes, completely at peace.
The movie plays on, but at this moment, all Freen can focus on is the warmth pressed against her side, the quiet love nestled between their fingers, and the feeling that this—this right here—is exactly where she’s meant to be.
___
The credits roll, but neither of them moves.
They’re tangled in each other, wrapped up in blankets and the quiet hum of contentment. The cozy little nest Freen made feels like its own world—one where time slows, and nothing exists except the warmth between them.
Becky lets out a sigh, soft and full of something deep and unspoken.
She tilts her head, gazing at Freen through half-lidded eyes, her heart swelling with so much love she can barely hold it in.
“Thank you for doing this for me.”
Freen smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Becky’s ear, her eyes filled with nothing but adoration. “Anything for you, baby.”
Becky swallows, completely overwhelmed. She doesn’t know how to put into words just how much this night, this effort, this love means to her.
So she doesn’t.
Instead, she leans in, pressing the softest, most grateful kiss against Freen’s lips—slow, lingering, full of silent promises.
Freen melts into it, fingers instinctively tightening around Becky’s waist.
When they finally pull away, Becky rests her forehead against Freen’s, smiling like she just won the lottery. “This is the best date ever.”
Freen chuckles, her thumb brushing over Becky’s cheek. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”
Becky hums, nuzzling closer, curling into Freen’s chest like she belongs there.
“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
And just like that, wrapped up in warmth and whispered truths, they fall asleep—hearts completely, irrevocably intertwined.
.