˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis during a livestream, dani plays it cool when a comment hints at something between you two, but later it’s clear things aren’t as simple as she lets on.
currently playing: you get me so high - the neighbourhood
it’s not a relationship, well, not officially. it’s not something either of you ever said out loud.
not when she kisses you in dressing rooms and pretends nothing happened two hours later. just reapplies her lip gloss in the mirror and smiles at the others like her mouth wasn’t just on yours.
not when you wake up with her legs tangled in yours, her head on your chest, and her voice sleepy and low as she mumbles, “this doesn’t count, right?” against your collarbone.
not when she lets you touch her like she belongs to you, but walks three feet ahead of you in the airport.
not when she tells you she thinks she’d fall apart without you, but won’t say a word if anyone else walks into the room.
but you know better.
you feel it. you feel it when her hand finds yours under the table, small and quiet like it means nothing, but her pinky always hooks with yours like it remembers the way your spine arches when she kisses you slow.
you feel it when she waits for everyone to fall asleep and then slips into your bed, curls into your side like it’s instinct.
you feel it when she watches you during rehearsals instead of the mirror.
you feel it when she smiles like she’s memorizing you, like it’s the last time. like she’s always afraid she’ll have to forget.
no one talks about it, but the others know.
manon figured it out first. of course she did. she watches everything. she caught the way daniela looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. like she’s trying not to want something she already has.
lara picked up on it soon after. she doesn't say anything, but her eyes follow the way you shift when dani enters a room, how your shoulders ease when her laugh finds you.
you don’t bring it up. none of them do. you don’t want to ruin whatever it is that’s been building between you and dani. quiet. hidden. careful.
something sacred, maybe.
something no one else is supposed to see.
something that doesn’t survive daylight.
—
the livestream is meant to be fun. it's just the four of you tonight. manon, lara, daniela, and you. you’re on the hotel couch in sweats and oversized hoodies, bare-faced and glowing from the stage high.
the lights are warm. the mood is easy. a bowl of popcorn rests between crossed legs. dani’s thigh presses lightly against yours, like she doesn’t even realize it.
manon’s holding the phone. scrolling through comments. laughing. lara’s leaning into her side, chiming in with answers.
'who’s the messiest member?' “lara, 100%,” dani says immediately. lara shrugs like she can’t even deny it. “i contain multitudes.”
daniela leans into you a little more when she laughs, and you swear no one else notices the way her pinky curls around yours for just a second. it’s featherlight. subconscious. maybe. but it happens every time she’s near.
‘who’s the clingiest?’ manon reads. “oh, that’s you, dani.”
“shut up!” dani laughs, tossing a pillow at her. “i’m not clingy!”
"you literally follow her around like a puppy," lara says, tilting her chin toward you, her tone casual, like she’s talking about the weather.
daniela’s cheeks flush. rosy-pink. she glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. you try not to smile. try not to look too much like you want to press your mouth to her flushed skin.
and then, manon snorts, squinting at another comment. "wait, this one, ‘my favourite lesbians 🙏’"
you don’t even get the chance to smile. don’t get the chance to laugh it off or lean your head into dani’s shoulder like you want to.
daniela cuts in too fast. too sharp. “pause. pause, pause.”
she waves her hand, grinning like she’s playing around, like it’s lighthearted. "i’m straight."
silence.
it lands like a brick.
manon freezes mid-smile. lara’s shoulders stiffen. both of them glance between the two of you.
you can feel the blood drain from your face, but you don’t move. you blink too fast, like that’ll keep your eyes from shining. your throat dries up before you can even think of something to say.
daniela doesn’t look at you. not once.
she stays facing the camera, still wearing that half-smile like she didn’t just gut you with five small words. like she didn’t call your hands home last night.
you laugh, or something like it. a breath through your nose, short and fake. you don’t trust your voice. you don’t trust anything right now.
you shift just barely to the side. enough that your knees don’t touch anymore. you fold your hands in your lap so she can’t reach for them again.
you feel manon’s eyes on you. lara’s too.
they don’t say anything. but you can feel it, they know.
they all do.
but daniela keeps smiling for the camera like it never meant anything.
—
after the stream, you don’t speak. you get up first. slip away without a goodnight.
you go to your room and close the door. you press your forehead to it and breathe like you’re trying to hold the pieces of yourself together.
you don’t cry. you’re used to this. this game. this silence. this pretending it doesn’t hurt when she disappears the second someone’s watching.
twenty minutes later, there’s a knock.
soft. like she doesn’t want to be heard.
you open it just enough to see her standing there in her hoodie, sleeves covering her hands, eyes tired. guilty.
“you know i didn’t mean it like that,” she says quietly.
your heart clenches. “didn’t mean it, or didn’t mean to say it out loud?”
she flinches. your voice doesn’t even rise, but it hits like a slap.
“i panicked,” she whispers.
you stare at her. the girl who’s kissed you like you’re the only thing that makes her feel alive. the girl who touches your skin like she’s trying to stay on this earth.
“you panicked and said that?”
her eyes drop to the floor. “i didn’t want it to become a thing. you know how people are.”
your voice sharpens. “yeah. i do.”
you pause and watch her. the hoodie sleeves. the hands fidgeting with the hem.
the mouth that knows every inch of your neck, now too scared to even say your name.
she looks up finally. her eyes are soft. watery. she opens her mouth. closes it.
"you get me so high." her voice cracks. "no one else does that to me."
your heart stumbles. because you believe her.
you always believe her.
and maybe that’s the problem.
you close your eyes, grounding yourself. “you said you were straight.”
she breathes out slowly, like it hurts. “i have to be.”
you meet her eyes again. tired. aching. “no, you chose to be. right then. in front of everyone.”
the silence is louder than anything she could say.
you wait.
you wait for her to do something. reach out., pull you close, tell you she’s scared, but not enough to keep hurting you. tell you this means more.
but she doesn’t.
she never does.
and that’s what breaks you.
you shut the door. slow. soft. final.
you don’t cry. not yet. you just crawl into bed and stare up at the ceiling.
you try not to think about how many times she’s held you here. how many times she’s kissed your wrist and whispered things she never says with the lights on.
you try not to wonder if she’s still on the other side of the door, hands trembling, too afraid to love you where someone might see.
she gets you so high. but the fall,
the fall is always yours to survive alone.
a/n: ngl…i thought billie bossa nova or twenties would win…oh how i was wrong
