They’re bumbling into Diane’s apartment. Roxy is babbling on about a project she’s working, something in between a scavenger hunt and a story. She doesn’t know why her friend cares so much about her oddly specific endeavors but she was supportive all the same. Her fists were shoved tightly into the pockets of her tan hoodie, shoulders tucked neatly under Diane’s right arm.

Diane knocks three times on the door. “Deb!”

Silence.

“She here?”

“I’m fucking stupid,” Diane says, “she said she wouldn’t be here.”

Diane pats her shorts down to find her keys. When she unlocks the door Roxy immediately kicks off her shoes and skids to Diane’s room, throwing a quick “catch me!” over her shoulder. Diane laughs and runs after her, kicking her shoes of as well in the process.

Roxy isn’t nearly as fast as her, she realizes. Just as she turns into her room she jumps and slams herself into the blonde. They both tumble onto her bed, giggling and smiling as Diane wraps herself around Roxy.

“Caught you.”

Roxy’s face is red and blotchy. Partly from the alcohol, partly from running, partly from laughing. Her laughter is low and rumbles like thunder and, to Diane, it’s the sound of pure joy. The bright splotches of red cover her neck and cheeks and seemingly glow crimson.

It’s only when Roxy attempts to wiggle out of her jacket that Diane realizes just how on top of Roxy she really is. Their legs are laced together and her full weight is on her best friend.

“Here,” She drawls out, “let me.”

Diane wraps her arms around Roxy and lets her shimmy out of the sleeves. Roxy lifts her upper body to allow Diane to toss the hoodie aside, pressing closer to her. They were face to face. Roxy’s breath was hot against the skin of her neck.

Diane looks at Roxy.

Roxy looks at Diane.

Her forehead knocks against Roxy’s. She’s worrying her lip with her teeth and she wishes she could - She can’t.

Diane puts a hand on her shoulder. “Roxy, I...”

She lets the words hang in the electric air between them. There’s a lot of emotions on Roxy’s face. Confusion, hurt, fear. It was all there and more. Diane looks away and focuses on her bedsheets instead.

Roxy props herself up on her left elbow and brings her right hand to cradle Diane’s face. Her fingertips weave gentle patterns into the smooth angle of Diane’s jaw.

“Hey,” she whispers.

It’s meant to soothe as much as it is to plead. Diane exhales deeply and finds herself relaxing. Her fists unclenched from Roxy’s shirt, something she wasn’t doing consciously.

Roxy cradles her face with her hand and Diane finally looks back down to her. Their wide and watery, mixing adoration and pain in her soft blues.

She can’t help it. She leans forward and closes the last few centimeters of space between them for a brief moment. A quick peck on her lips. Then another. And another. And soon she found herself coiled in Roxy’s arms.

Diane knew that she could stop it. She could ask Roxy to stop and she would without hesitation, no matter her current state. The rational part of her brain knew that this would undoubtedly complicate things between them, but with Roxy’s hand on her cheek and the absolute warmth she feels, she wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

It’s not one of those moments where

Roxy breaks away and rests her forehead in the hollow of Diane’s neck. She lets her have a moment, panting into her skin.

“What about..?”

She can feel Roxy grimace into her shoulder.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Di,” she says, “not really.”

Diane pulls away to look her in the eyes. Again, her tired eyes are glazed with the salty tears of long - endured pain. Her throat constricts. From what little she knows, in this moment, the thing she wants most in the world with this.

“C’mere,” Diane says, hoarse and gruff in her hushed tone. Roxy is too happy to oblige and wraps her arms around Diane’s waist, meeting her dark stained lips once again with ounces of care. She makes it warm and steady and easy and Diane melts into her mouth.

If Diane stops kissing her, she’ll die. She’ll just die.