It's dark. It is really, really dark.
Caitlyn had always been afraid of the dark. When she turned 4 — no, 5! When she turned 5, she got gifted a lamp.
"To dream pretty things." Tobias had told her.
"So that you know you're not alone," had added Cassandra.
Covered with a removable burgundy cloth, the lamp always sat on the right side of the bed, right on the nightstand. The light was diffused through the fabric, casting hues that looked as pink as the peonies in the Kiramman family garden, and sometimes, when Caitlyn was very tired, the room almost took on a bloody pall. It wasn't scary, though. It was... cozy, maybe? Like a kind of food you haven't tasted yet, but it smells good, and your father loves it. And your father loves you, and you love him, and he smells like the freshest pond in the pasture, which you love, so clearly if he likes the food, you'll like the food too. Right?
Right. Well, 5 year-old Caitlyn Kiramman was a complicated kid.
5 year-old Caitlyn Kiramman also didn't understand a word her parents said. Yes, she enjoyed the gift. Yes, it was useful, scaring away those monsters in the corner of her room. Sometimes, on days when rain was heaviest, Caitlyn wondered if the lamp chased away evil spirits or just helped them see her better. But no. No. Her parents wouldn't have given it to her if there was such a risk. Hence, it was clear: the lamp was a nice gift.
Over time, Caitlyn realized a few things.
The object she received was a terribly expensive gift for a 5-year-old. It's also a bad idea to have breakables on your nightstand while (way too) enthusiastically kissing girls brought in through the bedroom window. It's an even dumber idea not to have it around, because after so many years, her brain might as well had been Pavlov's other pet — she couldn't fall asleep without the lamp.
She didn't dream pretty things anymore. And, with all due excuses for Cassandra, may her soul rest in peace, the damn lamp didn't make her feel more loved or less lonely than usual.
"You've been staring at that wall for 10 minutes and blinked a total of 5 times." Vi whispered, shuffling around to wrap herself in the most ridiculously soft blanket her skin has ever felt.
"Yes." Replied Caitlyn and... that was it.
That's it? What the hell? She didn't usually shut her out, and Vi thought they were past the stage of hiding from each other. Vi's first instinct was to make fun of her. Then, she realized that maybe, just maybe, Caitlyn is having a moment of weakness: there's nothing wrong with that, there's nothing to fix, emotional fluctuations are normal, and Vi is not responsible for her girlfriend's perceived happiness. Vi is not responsible for her girlfriend's perceived happiness. Vi is not responsible for her girlfriend's perceived happiness–
"Cait, are you sad?" Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Okay, so what if she's sad, genius, what's the problem with that?
Vi's sad sometimes and it's okay. What could Vi do for her? Pull the sadness out of her ears with forceps and throw it to the wolves? Shake her shoulders till the sadness starts to-
"No, no. Just thinking."
Good news: She's not sad! Small victories. Less good news: She's thinking. Oh, no.
"Care to share this painstaking process with me, Cupcake?" Vi says in a childlike tone and finally turns to the side. She must not betray her own turmoil.
"I'd rather not, I have better things to do."
Vi was genuinely a little bit offended. What could possibly–
Oh!
Ooooooh. Alright, then.
A long arm coiled its way around Vi's neck like the sweetest, warmest guillotine. She could very much get beheaded by Caitlyn's grip and she wouldn't give a single fuck. Her lover's fingers crawl up her nape and tangle in the locks of the redhead's mullet, sturdily cupping the back of her head so that Caitlyn would be able to press her lips onto hers just right.
In Vi's defense, Caitlyn seemed genuinely okay. Yes, she was definitely deep in thought somewhere in that pretty stubborn head of hers, but as time passed, Violet grew to notice the subtleties of her demeanour.
Their kiss was slow, unrushed, deliberate. It didn't feel charged, like it sometimes felt whenever Caitlyn used to prefer to shut her out completely instead of talking about not-so-pleasant stuff. It didn't feel hungry either, or, at least, not the type of hungry that's meant to deflect. It also wasn't shy or fearful, like whenever Caitlyn remembered that the left half of her vision harbours shadows and blurry masses instead of Vi, Vi, Vi.
"Vi?"
"Yes?"
"Violet."
"...Caitlyn."
"Darling."
"...Cupcake?"
"Love."
"I'm out of nicknames."
That pulled a rusty chuckle out of Caitlyn's throat. Hell yeah, she's definitely not sad.
"Can I ask a favor of you, my love?" Caitlyn plopped half of her body on top of Vi's, making sure that the skin of her own cheek stuck to the other's shoulder like the substance of the strongest adhesive known to man.
"Shoot, Cupcake." The left corner of her lips quirked upwards and a heavy exhale escaped her nostrils upon Caitlyn's touch.
"Could you hand me the lamp?"
What the actual fuck.
Vi raised an eyebrow and shot her head up just a tiny bit, in order to subtly and politely transmit the message get up from there and look me in the eyes when you tell me you prefer kissing a damn lamp instead of kissing me.
"Uh... Why?"
"Thought I'd try something new tonight."
Caitlyn perched up and let her thumb graze the contour of her lover's jawbone.
Vi knew not to press whenever Caitlyn spoke hypothetical gibberish. They'd always revise, so she just kicked her legs a little bit further from the warmth of Caitlyn's body, carefully stretched atop the nightstand and grabbed the illuminant with one hand. Cross that, with two hands, what the hell was that shit made of–
"I know it's heavy."
Caitlyn Psychic Kiramman, ladies and gentlemen.
"Why is it so heavy?"
"It was a gift from my parents, so you can take a guess regarding what the base is made of. Apparently, a show-off lamp was a better choice than the rifle I requested." Caitlyn quipped and managed to guide Vi's hands closer to hers, getting a sturdy grip on the lamp and plopping it to the left, on top of the nightstand from her side. She forcefully exhaled, as if pushing out the effort, and turned back to face Vi.
The Sheriff knew very well that Vi will eventually ask about it, and she would happily provide information if she herself understood what drove this sudden urge. The ambient lightning shift was minimal, but Vi's features were so much more clear with the new positioning. She almost audibly whimpered when Violet sunk the side of her head in the pillow and suddenly, the light didn't reach all of her face.
"All good, Cait? Aside from the late night interior design choices?" Vi commented and, with no preamble, nuzzled the tip of her nose between the Sheriff's lips, pursing her own in order to loudly smooch Caitlyn's chin.
Caitlyn couldn't help herself and pressed her lips to the adorably crooked bump that made her Violet just... Violet. Just like that. She was good. She really was good.
"I'm feeling really good, dear." Caitlyn declared before clinging to the material of Vi's top as if her nails were actually claws and she couldn't, for the life of her, let go. And, retrospectively, she truly couldn't.
Vi hummed and allowed herself the comfort of snuggling into the side of her girlfriend's frame. Her fingers crawled atop Caitlyn's clothed stomach and ended up curled around her waist. Who needs those fluffy pillows when she can rest her head on Caitlyn Kiramman's chest?
Totally useless, those pillows. Tobias said something about using feathers imported from Freljord when fabricating winter cushions. Do these people have any object's seasonal variation? When do the winter pillows become spring pillows? Are the spring pillows filled with flora from the Demacian countryside? No, definitely not, Tobias said something about some scary scarecrow thingy that haunted those areas, he wouldn't get his daughter pillows made out of nightmare-fueling materials. What was the thing's name? Fi- Sid? No. Fiddle- Something sticky, right? Fiddlesticky? No, what the hell, dude–
Vi was definitely asleep. Caitlyn could figure that much out, due to her girlfriend's unhurried, steady breathing rhythm and the mellow feeling of her muscles under her fingertips.
25 year old Caitlyn knew she wasn't alone. How could she be alone when her heartbeat matched another's breathing so perfectly? How could she be alone when her everything is right there, next to her? How could she be alone when, even through physical distance, Vi's presence lingers around her like an analgesic?
She's not alone anymore. And she will never be, as long as she can be Violet's.
Caitlyn pressed her lips to the crown of Vi's head and imperceptibly pecked her hair until she felt like she must have kissed at least thirty four individual hairs. Eventually, her left arm stretched back as far as possible, and blindly patted around until the pad of her thumb found the valve she searched for. 3 o'clock position. Click! The room was completely dark. Really, really dark.
---
That night, she dreamt of Vi. And that's the prettiest dream she could have asked for.
---
"Vi?" Caitlyn asked after elegantly sipping some balmy infusion and placing the mug back onto the saucer.
"Mm?" Said the love of her life amidst shamelessly stuffing a chocolate pastry into her mouth.
"Do you know any family from the Undercity who might benefit from a lamp?"