26, she/her, queer | might be deanna troi, maybe not | star trek & anything gillian anderson | used to blog about poetry, photography, dancing, literature & art and sometimes still do | find me on twitter and AO3 under the same name | avatar by copper-coyote
hi! i started a stella/scully discord server to share fanart and fanfic, discuss ideas, *scream in gay* and just get to know other people in the fandom. join via this link: https://discord.gg/cGSjvHNW
(link is valid for 7 days. if it's no longer working and you'd like to join, please send me a message!)
feel free to share with anyone who might be interested :)
Yet another post that reads like four shakespeare characters who come out in the middle of the play to talk about something completely unrelated for comic relief
"It really was this beautiful moment of opportunity for me to forgive myself for the first 25 years of my life. Because I didn't know.... You have these feelings of 'I'm worthless.'"
ouch, yeah. that feeling of "hold on, i haven't been failing all the time, all my life? i couldn't have fixed it all if i'd just tried harder?" that's the epiphany i've been having since i first learned more about adhd and especially since my diagnosis, too.
if you feel like you're not doing well, like something's wrong but you don't know what, take it seriously. ask for help. make sure someone (including yourself) looks further than personality traits and circumstance. there could well be more to it and it doesn't have to just be yours to carry. to know what's going on, to understand why things aren't going so well, can be a huge relief. not to mention further treatment options. i still can't believe that i've lost so much time and energy and just, so much of my life to struggling with things (being frustrated about struggling because i blamed myself for struggling) i wouldn't have had to struggle with if i had just known sooner that i have adhd.
not to say that a diagnosis fixes everything. but knowing makes it manageable.
if you have adhd and menstruate please please please research about and track how your menstrual cycle effects your adhd symptoms.
it will help you manage them better and have a better understanding of why you're having an "off" day for "no reason"
it will also help you not waste your meds. for example i'll not take my meds a few days before my period and the first few days because i know it's no use and it would be a waste to take them but not get any of the benefits.
track when you're adhd is worse and when it's more manageable.
the common theme is that:
the beginning of your cycle (after you finish your period) you're gonna be the most productive and have your symptoms under control because estrogen levels are high (this hormone is very important for controlling your dopamine levels)
after 3-4 weeks during the luteal phase (the phase after ovulation) estrogen levels decrease which means you're probably not gonna be at the top of your game. (i often get lower back pain and cramps during this time, look for signs that indicate it for you)
then you get to the actual menstruation phase, wait till that's over and the cycle repeats again
.
this information is SO important for menstruating ADHD people. the menstrual cycle has such a huge influence on our symptoms so we need to know how to work with it.
this could be by
-setting your most important and difficult work after your period because you know that's when you're most productive.
-setting your less difficult work during/after your luteal phase and planning extra self love time like yoga and meditation, and being kinder to yourself when you don't accomplish everything you planned or made mistakes, because you understand that it's not your fault.
disclaimer: this is general information so my tips aren't guaranteed to work for you. i strongly recommend paying attention to and tracking your symptoms to build a routine that works for you, and how your meds affect you during your entire cycle to determine if you want to take them like you normally do or change it up like how i did.
i believe i've also heard of people recommending higher doses of medication during the menstrual phase, so you could also discuss that with your doctor. but i haven't heard of anyone's first hand experience with trying that nor have i tried it.
what people think is hard about writing: describing the joy, love, beauty, grief, loss and hope that form the richness of human experience
what is actually hard about writing: describing basic actions such as turning, leaning over, reclining, gesturing, saying something in a quiet voice, breathing, getting up from chairs, and walking across rooms
I’ll spill out a brilliant, wrenching portrayal of a character’s struggle with grief over a loss and his complex regrets and guilt and then a page later I’ll have to write that a character who’s lying prone raises his head and shoulders up to look at something without fully getting up and I’ll get so angry I want to strangle an eagle with my bare hands
Fun fact: Though being gay in the 40s sucked, being gay in the military was easier, and pretty common. There were apparently, at one point in time time so many lesbians in the military that when they tried to crack down on it, the girls wrote back and said “Look I can give you the names, but you’ll lose some of your best officers, and half your nurses and secretaries.” And they pretty much shut up about it unless you were especially bad at subtlety. (Source: Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers. A good source for gay history from 1900s onwards.)
Sergeant Phelps worked for General Eisenhower. Four decades after Eisenhower had defeated the Axis powers, Phelps recalled an extraordinary event. One day the general told her, “I’m giving you an order to ferret those lesbians out.’ We’re going to get rid of them.”
“I looked at him and then I looked at his secretary. who was standing next to me, and I said, ‘Well, sir, if the general pleases, sir, I’ll be happy to do this investigation for you. But you have to know that the first name on the list will be mine.’
“And he kind of was taken aback a bit. And then this woman standing next to me said, ‘Sir, if the general pleases, you must be aware that Sergeant Phelps’s name may be second, but mine will be first.’
“Then I looked at him, and I said, ‘Sir, you’re right. They’re lesbians in the WAC battalion. And if the general is prepared to replace all the file clerks, all the section commanders, all of the drivers—every woman in the WAC detachment—and there were about nine hundred and eighty something of us—then I’ll be happy to make the list. But I think the general should be aware that among those women are the most highly decorated women in the war. There have been no cases of illegal pregnancies. There have been no cases of AWOL. There have been no cases of misconduct. And as a matter of fact, every six months since we’ve been here, sir, the general has awarded us a commendation for meritorious service.’
“And he said, ‘Forget the order.’
- The Gay Metropolis: The Landmark History of Gay Life in America
One book I read was a YA novel set in an alternate history where women were drafted and sent into combat roles in WW2, and the most unrealistic part of it, IMO, is that there was only one lesbian among the women and she was deeply closeted.
Stella/Scully || multi-chapter || rating: E (explicit)
Summary:
Stella and Dana struggle with what happened in their own way, contemplating where they stand.
Notes:
Co-creator of this universe: @notdeannatroi (Lieke)
Thank you to all you lovely people, your comments and likes give me life <3 This chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are on me.
Content warning:
(mentions of self harm and thoughts of self harm also the slightest, tiniest "sex scene")
Also available to read on AO3
Dana
University of London, England
November 1990
Yesterday had gone by in a blur with feelings of guilt and confusion plaguing her system, intent on infiltrating her when she felt too unprepared and unstable to fight against it. She had shut herself away, unable to face the world outside because of some stupid irrational fear that people would somehow see her sin or see the shame etched deeply into her skin.
So Dana had glued herself to her desk, the floor and bed flooded with textbooks and forced herself into survival mode; compartmentalise or suffocate and die. Setting a goal to study for her upcoming exams gave her brain and body a purpose that distracted her from thinking about what happened. Like how she knew she needed to change her sheets. Or about the heavy guilt she felt weighing down on the fingers that had felt so temptingly right buried in her velvety heat.
Don’t think about the clothes either.
Shifting in her chair, Dana stretched, her back thankful for the attention after hours of stiffness and neglect. It had been so simple to shut herself off and let her informative brain take over; she’s always been able to eradicate her emotions to focus on words of science. It’s a gift, I suppose, a fucked up gift, but a gift nonetheless. But now she’s done all she can. Taken every possible note, revised every possible paragraph to the point where she’s left without any goal or motivation to continue. And the guilt is beginning to creep back, like a weed stubbornly pushing through concrete.
She needs to talk to someone and try to configure every confusing thought out in the open instead of letting it swirl and fester inside her head. It would be helpful to not just have her judgemental words bounce back at her off her own four walls.
Stella had become that someone she could lean on in the absence of her sister and that thought, both comforting and heart-falling, made her scoff. Well, I can’t talk to her, can I? I royally fucked that up for myself.
“Shut up!” Dana cried to herself, filling the empty room with a dense frustration as she tried desperately to quiet the thoughts clawing inside her head.
But all she can do is hyperfixate. Narrow in on the events that had happened at the party and especially the morning after, to the point where everything else was just grey and blurry. Looking out the window at the sun trying to crack through the clouds, a sense of creeping realisation settled deep in her chest, like a rock sinking in a river.
I’m attracted to Stella.
Her glasses pushed up off her nose as she buried her face into her arms, letting the darkness and familiar scent of ink and paper conceal the tears that were settling in her eyes.
I wanted to kiss her.
She wanted to know what her lips felt like; if they were soft or rough from the lipstick she wore. And what she tasted like; if she would have tasted of alcohol and cigarettes or just…her. There were other things she wanted to do too, things that she couldn’t even begin to allow herself to imagine in the sobering light of day because she knew once that flood gate opened she wasn’t confident she would ever be able to close it. She wasn’t gay, it wasn’t like she had these thoughts about other women, just Stella. Was that wrong?
I need to stop. God, please give me the strength to stop thinking of her.
Growing up and being an over knowledgeable and often rebellious teenager, Dana had felt like this before, lost and unbalanced and without warning Missy would have been there to catch her when she crumbled; to curl up with her on her creaky bed and tuck them both under a protective sanctuary of blankets.
But she doesn't have that now.
The silence in the room was broken by a shrill ring and she begrudgingly looked at the phone in confusion. No one ever called her. Her parents had her number so she concluded it could be them just checking up on her and grabbed the phone while clearing a spot on her bed.
“Hello?”
“Dana? Hey!”
It was Missy.
At times she swore Missy shared her brain in some weird, unexplainable way, and had done since Dana could remember. As young kids, they had made up their own language and played tricks on the neighbourhood kids by speaking gibberish and finishing each other's sentences. As they grew older, that connection began to run much deeper; like an extension of their consciousnesses. When Dana had come home blushed and shy after her first sexual experience — giving head under the bleachers — Missy had just known and they had spent the night deep in excited conversation. Or when Missy had a pregnancy scare and Dana had sensed something was wrong the moment she came home from school. She had curled up with her, talking in hushed tones about what Missy could do, even when, at the time, Dana was too young and naive to understand it all.
I wonder if she could feel me thinking about her all these miles across the sea.
“Mum said this would be a good time to call, the time difference is a bit weird but it shouldn’t be too late there, right?”
Dana shook her head. “It’s perfect, it’s just after 4.”
Tucking her legs up, Dana tried — in vain — to push down the nauseated feeling of homesickness slowly bubbling up her stomach and sitting in her throat. Because this is what I need right now. Her eyes welled and grew hot.
Suck it up, Starbuck. Don’t be so stupid.
“How is everyone?” Dana asked, twirling the cord between her fingers and holding the phone so tightly to her ear like it was her only source of a lifeline. “I’ve missed you, Missy. So much, you have no idea.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Missy was silent on the other end and, for a moment, Dana worried the line had gone dead before her sister spoke, tone hushed as if she was speaking in secret. “Are you okay, Dana? You sound upset.”
Of course, she knows.
Missy seemed to know her better than she knew herself and it seemed inevitable that she could pick up on Dana’s demeanour. There was no way Dana could have fooled her for a second.
“I’m fine.” Dana’s voice cracked as she struggled to maintain the sudden crumble in her composure.
“Don’t lie to me, Dana,” Missy’s reply was instant. “You’re not fine, I can hear it in your voice. I know you. Talk to me?”
That seemed to be the final shattering to her already fracturing pillars; the temple of Dana Katherine Scully slowly and painstakingly falling apart with a strangled gasp as she let her tears fall.
“Mum! I’m just gonna take the phone outside!” Missy shouted down the line, muffled by what Dana visualised was the phone pressed gently to her chest. “I didn’t want mum to know you’re upset, she’d become completely insufferable. Unless it’s something mum and dad need to know?”
“No!” Dana squeaked quickly and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “J-Just you. God, I don’t even know if I want that.”
How could she even begin to talk to her about this when she felt she could barely even comprehend everything herself? It wasn’t as simple as the frustrations she had when she failed a test, or her so-called childish ‘heartbreak’ when she got turned down by the boy she had crushed on when she asked him to the school dance, awkward and shy. This felt like something much deeper than all that.
Can I even tell her at all? Will she understand? What if she goes and tells mum and dad?
“Dana, I can hear you thinking over the phone,” Missy teased slightly and broke Dana from her thoughts. “Come on, please talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say. Everything’s so overwhelming and I’m struggling to even comprehend what I’m feeling myself,” She confessed, her voice high as she pushed through her tears. “Please, promise me you won’t tell anyone about this? Promise me, Missy. Just you and me, okay?”
There must have been an urgency to her voice that changed Missy’s attitude completely, her voice soft and concerned. “Of course, Danes. I’m here, it’s just you and me. Please tell me what’s wrong, even if you ramble and it doesn’t make sense, I need to know because you’re scaring me a bit.”
Silence filled her room as Dana found the courage to speak.
“I’ve met someone,” Dana whispered. “Not met someone, met someone…it’s just…it’s complicated, for so many reasons.”
“What do you mean, not met someone? You don’t like them like that?” Missy questioned, sounding slightly confused.
“That’s what’s complicated,” Dana let out a long sigh. “I think I do like them like that, well, I’m attracted to them. But it’s not as simple as that. I can’t like them.”
“Since when do you shy away from getting with someone?” Missy paused before gasping, sounding scandalised. “It’s not one of your old, snooty professors or anything is it?”
“Ew, no!” Dana huffed out. “It’s not that.”
Just say it. Like a band-aid, one rip and everything is out in the open.
“It’s complicated because it’s a friend…a really good friend,” Dana closed her eyes and felt her body flush hot and cold with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “And I’m attracted to her.”
There was another silence, this one longer, and Dana felt like vomiting.
This was a stupid idea, God, what was I thinking? What if mum and dad find out? What will they think of me?
“Danes.”
Missy’s voice was gentle and it made the constriction in her chest ease slightly. It felt like she was struggling underwater but could begin to see the surface growing closer and more achievable than before and maybe, just maybe, she could swim to the surface without drowning.
“Is this why you’re freaking out? Because she’s a woman or because she’s your friend?”
“For God’s sake, Missy, it’s because she’s a girl!”
She didn’t mean to snap — she honestly didn’t — but it was a defence mechanism she couldn’t seem to shake, a loathe-able character flaw, and as soon as the temper left her lips she regretted it.
“I-I’m sorry,” Dana could feel her anxiety forcing the tears out of her eyes and this time she didn’t attempt to stop them. “This just isn’t how this is supposed to go. I’m supposed to finish school, get a nice job and move out into a place of my own. I’m supposed to meet a guy that I can have a future with; get married, have kids…Not have these feelings for someone that would go against everything our family believes in and everything our parents disapprove of.”
She knew she was rambling and that there were untruths to what she was saying; idealist images that had been projected into her brain since childhood, but the thoughts haunted her nonetheless. She just wanted to do the right thing and make her parents proud of her, and even more so, make her proud of herself. And this shouldn’t feel as right as it does, should it?
“Woah, woah, Dana, breathe,” Missy sighed into the phone as Dana cried and struggled to take calm, calming breaths. “You’re putting so much pressure on yourself. Just because you have a crush on a woman doesn’t mean your whole life is over, even if it might feel that way right now. Danes, it’s normal to be attracted to people and sometimes it’s boys and sometimes it’s girls, doesn’t mean that what you’re feeling is wrong. It’s right to be attracted to people you like, I’m sure it’s to do with some chemical or biology crap. You study that, you should know.”
Dana rubbed her eyes with sagging shoulders as she calmed herself down enough to let out an attempt at a chuckle. There was sense to what Missy was saying — deep down she knew this — but the nagging tug of shame still gnawed away at her already fraying edges.
“Is it more than just attraction?”
“I-I don’t know,” Dana replied honestly. “She invited me to a party and we almost kissed. This feels different to what I felt in high school. I don’t think it’s anything more, it’s just…different.”
“Does she feel the same?”
Did Stella feel the same? I have no idea.
There were moments that Dana got the impression that Stella liked her too. Like when her touch would linger a little too long, or when her smile reached her eyes that would then settle onto Dana’s lips. And then there was that rumble of electricity every time they were together and surely that couldn’t be one-sided, could it?
She had wanted to kiss me too, I’m not that stupid that I couldn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean she was being anything more than a friend, right?
“She had wanted to kiss me too, I could feel it,” Dana said as she began to pick at the loose thread of her pants. “But that doesn’t mean she likes me. And even if she does, I can’t be the one to make a judgement on her feelings.”
Missy hummed. “Have you spoken to her about it?”
“No,” Dana whispered, her guilt coming back again.
“Dana,” Missy sighed heavily. “Still haven’t gotten over that fear of confrontation, then?”
“No.” Dana squeaked.
“You should speak to her. If she’s a good friend then it’s important to sort everything out before it gets worse, right?” Missy asked and Dana nodded to the empty room. “I know you find it hard to make friends, you always have, so you should treasure the ones that are important to you, Dana. Is she one of those friends?”
“Yeah, she is,” There was no hesitation. “She really is.”
——♡——
Stella
University of London, England
November 1990
Sitting in her usual position in the library; tucked into the alcove between Dialects and History of Languages she seemed to be comfortable enough, away from prying eyes. It was quite early on a Sunday, the air still heavy with mist, so Stella only had to contend with a few people scattered throughout the building, cradling coffees in their freezing hands or juggling armfuls of textbooks. God, she had been so thankful she hadn’t seen the all too familiar poof of red hair peeking out from behind one of those books.
She had taken refuge here, seeking to escape into the comfort of Virginia Woolf, after she had felt the clawing of agitation under her skin when she smelt Dana lingering on her sheets; a damp, earthy sweetness that was so authentically her.
But it wasn’t working.
The events of that morning kept spiralling in her head, like a whirlpool of self-disgust growing in intensity as it narrowed to a black hole in the sea. I’m stronger than this. She prided herself on her strength of mind, to flatten her emotions before they become such an overwhelming force and it had been years since she had felt them this strong. Years since she had felt such a hot feeling of something that made her chest feel heavy and constrictive.
I’m stronger than this.
Closing her book, Stella rested her head against the glass and looked out the window at the sun trying to break desperately through the clouds and dissipate the mist that still lingered on the ground. Instead of pure sunshine there were scatters of light patchworked over the grass outside, marking the flawless landscape; like cracks tarnishing a strong foundation, fracturing it and making it unstable. Am I the cracked and broken foundation?
Stella huffed in anger and whether it was directed at herself or Dana she didn’t know. I don’t care, anger is still fucking anger. She felt stupid for allowing her walls to come down just enough for Dana to wiggle her way through and she felt angry that Dana had taken that for granted. In a single moment, Dana had taken the power out of her hands and left her unsure of where she stood moving forward, her input of equal control of the situation crushed.
I can’t blame her though, can I?
It’s not like Dana’s aware of her vulnerabilities, the ones she loathes about herself or the burdens she carries with her, heavy on her shoulders. Stella hadn’t anticipated something so simple to sting so much, that waking up alone would hurt as much as it did. She shouldn’t have allowed herself the indulgence in the first place.
There was a tightness in her chest; pressure like hands crushing her lungs as she’s taken back to the morning before; of waking up alone and reaching out in her sleep drugged state to find the sheets cold and empty beside her, the same cold and emptiness nibbling away at her heart. Stella hadn’t thought much in the heat of the moment what the morning would bring when she let Dana stay, she had just been compelled to have her there, and maybe there had been an expectation on her part that she now felt stupid for considering.
She’d at least expected Dana to still be there when she woke up, maybe even cuddled up in the mass of her cotton sheets with the copper fluff of her hair fanned out on the pillow. Maybe there would even be some of her gold glitter smudged across her eyelids and temples. We could have talked about what happened the night before, right? If she had wanted to. It would have been a lot easier to talk after the heightened emotions had been washed away by the morning light creeping through her bedroom window, she was sure of it. Maybe.
But Dana had taken away that opportunity when she had left her with only emptiness and a hastily written note, words shaky and uneven like she couldn’t leave fast enough. And even though Dana had left, her smell still lingered as Stella had buried her face into her pillows to try and hide the embarrassing tears that pooled in her eyes.
Everything had felt so overwhelming at that moment — and thinking back on it now with a sober mind — Stella knew it had brought back feelings she had tried so desperately to suppress; of loneliness, fear and a hot rise of bile in the back of her throat. Her mental process had faltered and left her lying, motionless, and staring blankly into the patterns of her sheets — a lot longer than she would have cared to admit.
No control. No control. No control.
Take it back then.
Stella roughly shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts before they started to spiral into that dark, dark place. What she was left with was a familiar feeling of impulsiveness; a hungry creature that fed off her self restraint and it wasn’t a friendly creature, it had led her down many dangerous paths before. Take it back. There was a tingle in her thighs, a beacon calling out to her very soul, and she slammed her legs shut in an attempt to drown out the tempting whispers.
She needed to do something.
Breathe.
Just get to your feet, that’s your first step. Ignore everything else and just get to your feet, Stella.
—— ♡ ——
Stella found herself walking the streets and trekking an all too familiar path, taking it one step at a time. It was exhausting, focusing on the constant motion of putting one foot in front of the other, but once she reached the bright red door with the chipped golden handle, she felt relief. The instant Lani opened the door, dressed in her pyjamas with a confused raise of her eyebrow, Stella grabbed her wrist and tugged her upstairs.
She’d been vaguely aware of a few greetings muttered from Lani’s roommates but she didn’t respond. Her temptation was growing, but each step up the wooden stairs seemed to bring her closer to some sort of heavenly salvation. Just keep walking.
Lani seemed to sense what she needed before she even knew herself and when the door was shut she was quick to submit when Stella pinned her against it. Stella’s forehead pressed into the mass of Lani’s hair with a groan of appreciation as they both fumbled to make quick work of slipping their hands where they were needed most.
It occurred to her that she wasn’t even wet, that Lani’s fingers stung against her sensitive flesh, but she spread her legs in a silent beg for her to keep going. It was frantic, rough and unsentimental and Stella thanked a God she didn’t believe in when her eyes blurred as her orgasm hit. Her fingers gripped black hair and Lani’s own hot, orgasm-riddled breath on her skin made Stella bite her neck, legs trembling.
There were no feelings here of hurt or impulsiveness, just the gentle wave and pulses deep in her body that melted her into Lani’s embrace.
Just breathe. Just forget. Breathe.
When the haze cleared, they both removed their hands and Lani wiped her fingers before offering Stella a cigarette. Stella nodded and joined her at the window to blow smoke out into the crisp London air.
They were silent, just watching the smoke swirl around and when Lani made a ring with her lips, it reminded her too much of Dana. Too much of the heat, tenderness and eventual emptiness she had come here to avoid so she put her cigarette out after only a few drags. What a waste.
“I feel like doing something stupid.”
Lani turned to her and Stella lowered her gaze to the street below.
“You aren’t one to do stupid things.” She replied as she took another drag, Stella listening to her exhale.
Stella looked up to see brown eyes boring into her, seemingly right down to her bones. Lani knew her better than she knew she knew herself.
“I guess,” Stella licked her lips. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I feel like doing something stupid.”
Everything falls silent, the only noise; a car horn and the muted buzz from the television downstairs. I fucking hate silence sometimes. Lani flicked her butted cigarette out the window.
“I’m feeling out of my depth.” Stella’s thumb tapped nervously against the flaky wood of the windowsill, unable to stop.
“How so?” Lani questioned, resting her hand on Stella’s, a warm weight stilling the anxious movements of her thumb.
Stella just looked at her and shrugged.
“I know you, Stella.” Lani squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you want to talk. It’s good to talk sometimes, at least your thoughts won’t be confined to your head anymore.”
Stella sighed. Lani’s right — of course, she is — and even though talking through things isn’t what she enjoys, sometimes it’s a necessity. It’s why she’s kept a journal all these years.
“I have all this uncertainty and anger that I feel like I’m directing in the wrong places, into dangerous places.”
Lani squeezed her hand again and tucks her fingers under Stella’s thumb.
“Maybe I’m just jumping the gun on something that’s probably completely insignificant and I’m just reading too much into something because I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it does.”
Stella feels comforted in the familiar presence when Lani shuffled closer. “You know this room is a safe place. It’s why you came here, right? Well, one of the reasons.”
A smile tugged at Stella’s lips as Lani smiles, shy and knowingly. She knows me too well. It never failed to amaze her how rationally she could think just knowing Lani is there, completely unbiased and a keeper of her most fragile, darkest secrets.
“I just found myself walking here.”
How could she even begin to express how she was feeling? Lani understood her past but this wasn’t like then. Not like when Lani had found her broken and bruised on the floor, trembling from shock at the sudden violent shift in her previous partner's behaviour. Or when she had cut for the first time and felt such shame when Lani had taken the razor away from her with shaking fingers. This felt so simple and so childishly stupid and she couldn’t work out why it affected her so much.
God, what’s wrong with me?
Stella pushed herself off the window and started to pace, wandering around the room to keep some part of her moving while attempting to unpack the jumbled fuckery in her head. But it seemed to be like trying to grasp wisps of smoke in open fingers.
“You know Dana?”
Lani’s eyebrow raised in curiosity, a shimmer of understanding in her eyes. “Yeah.”
“She stayed at my place after the party and maybe it was too naive of me to think that she would still be there when I woke up…or too naive of me to even agree to let her stay in the first place.” Stella paused and struggled to comprehend why it was affecting her so much. “I just wasn’t expecting all these feelings to rush back…I haven’t felt this…impulsive…in a long time.”
“Is this why you feel out of your depth?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know,” Stella huffed out a self-loathing chuckle. “I hate myself for allowing the feelings to overwhelm me. And I hate that I feel so hurt by such a silly little thing.”
Stella fell back onto Lani’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. She’s hit with the memories of being in a similar situation that night, with Dana’s weight nestled beside her and her warm breath tickling her shoulder.
The bed dipped as Lani crawled up to flop down beside her, squeezing shoulder to shoulder on the double bed.
“I think there’s more you aren’t telling me,” Lani confessed.
More silence.
Stella took a deep breath to allow the familiar and comforting scent of Lani’s bed to wash over her; a combination of musky perfume, sex and weed.
“Stella?”
“Hmm?” Hearing her name, Stella tilted her head slowly to see Lani looking at her with soft, concerning eyes.
“You still with me?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Stella hadn’t been aware of how long she’d been silent or how long she had crawled up inside her head again.
“You wanna just lie here a bit?”
“Yeah,” Stella closed her eyes and felt Lani’s fingers hold her wrist softly. “Thank you.”
—— ♡ ——
Dana
University of London, England
November 1990
She’d been on the phone with Missy until the sun had set enough to cast shadows in her room and when Dana hung up, parting with words of love, a determination had rooted itself in her chest.
“I can do this,” Dana encouraged herself with a nod.
Missy was right. The feelings she had for Stella, whether they seemed all-consuming or not, shouldn’t get in the way of their friendship. It’s too important to me and I can’t lose it. Whatever was going on with her feelings, she could compartmentalise and push them away until they eventually passed — she was sure they would — and just get back to being Stella’s friend.
She means too much to me.
After wiping her tear-streaked cheeks she grabbed Stella’s clothes and found herself walking with surprisingly confident steps up Stella’s hallway. She needed to make this right. She’d written Stella a note that was bundled up with the clothes in her arms; a shitty apology — she knew — along with her number and the promise that Stella could call or visit whenever she wanted to, that she would be more than happy to see her. This way she could leave it all up to Stella and let her choose what to do moving forward.
And if she doesn’t want to see me again…well, hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.
Dana shook away the negative thoughts that threatened to creep in and let out a deep sigh, knocking on Stella’s door. There was silence and Dana felt ashamed for letting out a breath of relief she hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding. No. Stop it. You need to make this right.
“Dana?”
Fuck.
Dana’s heart leapt in her throat when she recognised the huskiness of Stella’s voice. Turning away from the door, she saw Stella standing with her key hanging loosely in her fingers and a look on her face that Dana was all too familiar with; her face looked the same. Like a deer caught and captivated by approaching headlights, incapable of looking away and avoiding the inevitable collision.
Though the look was only on Stella’s face for a fleeting moment before it disappeared.
“I brought your clothes back.” Dana gripped the plastic bag tightly in her arms and swallowed, unable to stop how fast her heart was beating just by being in Stella’s presence. It’s so happy to see her just like I’m so happy to see her.
There was silence as Stella walked forward to stand close to her, so close, her eyes looking right through her in a way that held her completely at her mercy.
How does she always smell so good? Like smoke, weed and the London air. It brought her right back to the fire escape and her shame made her eventually tear her eyes away.
“Is that really why you’re here, Dana?”
Their eyes met and Dana saw something swirling just beneath the surface of Stella’s ice blue eyes that made her want to hug her. But she kept still and bit her bottom lip, her fingers reaching out to touch Stella’s in an attempt at comfort, settling for that instead. Stella’s fingers flinched momentarily before touching their fingertips together briefly, sweetly.
“No, I don’t think it is.”
They stood in silence for a few moments — seconds that seemed to stretch on forever — until Stella broke it with a nod of her head towards her door.
