(no subject)
Title: Inescapable
Characters/Pairings: Naomi/Emily
Rating: PG
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: Set at some stage after the Love Ball. Inside Naomi’s head. Not such a sunshiny place to be. The difficulties of being in a relationship for the first time.
Spoilers: Season 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Skins or any of the Skins characters. This is intended for entertainment, not profit.
Author's note: I kind of empathise with Naomi. This cannot be a good thing.
Emily is always just right there now.
It’s not a bad thing. Not exactly. It’s just so much. Naomi is used to having her own space, her room is hers, and now she has to share.
She does love Emily. She loves her in ways she didn’t think she’d be able to love anyone.
But sometimes she’d just like to wake up alone.
Instead big brown eyes looking at her with warmth is what greets her every morning these days. Naomi is fine with that most of the time, more than fine. Sometimes, though, she has to check herself. She has to remember to smile; she has to remember not to roll onto her side away.
Those eyes. They see too much. Worse still, they appear to like what they see. Naomi still doesn’t understand this level of devotion. For her. For her. She’s the least deserving person of a love so exact, so bottomless.
It scares her sometimes, how much Emily loves her.
//
She’s just sneaking into wakefulness one morning when arms slip around her waist and lips touch the skin between her shoulder blades.
It’s not anticipatory, Emily doesn’t expect reciprocation, and somehow that makes it more confusing.
These little touches and little moments that she grabs at are not conscious to Emily. She just wants to be closer to Naomi. She just wants to be close.
Naomi wishes she could let herself feel as much as Emily does.
//
“Mornin” Naomi mumbles opening her eyes briefly to catch Emily’s wide awake stare, before closing them again.
She feels her shift closer. “Hi.”
They’ve both had a long night; Naomi’s been studying for an exam she has to make up from last term and Emily insisted upon helping. It all turned out much better than she had expected and they’d actually managed to get a lot of revision done. Naomi was still getting used to someone wanting to help her.
It felt oddly nice. Not like surrender. Not at all.
Emily’s breath is warm against her cheek. A hesitant moment passes before her lips brush against Naomi’s skin. Naomi remains still, desperately trying to cling onto the notion of sleep.
Emily has other ideas.
Her lips move to press a ridiculous kiss on the tip of Naomi’s nose that, despite herself, causes her to smile sleepily. The next time Emily’s kiss lands it meets her jaw line and Naomi can feel the curve of her lips and knows she is smiling too.
It’s all so incredibly soppy. Naomi rather likes it, really.
Emily’s hands find their way to her waist and slip up under her T-shirt in a very practiced way. Her hands are cold and Naomi shrinks away from them, laughing drowsily. She scoots backwards on the mattress and submits to opening her eyes fully.
Emily is still smiling, her eyes still all for Naomi.
“Jesus, Em,” Naomi manages, rubbing at her face. “Some of us are tryin’ to get some fucking beauty sleep, you know?”
Her eyes inspected her closely. “Why? Not like you need any.”
Naomi rolls her eyes in reply, secretly quite enjoying it. Emily does find her beautiful. Even if she’s seen her face twisted ugly with anger, jealousy, and callousness. Naomi doesn’t pretend to understand the attraction.
Emily moves in to kiss her.
“Not a good idea.” Naomi places a hand against her collarbone. “Having serious mornin’ breath issues, plus bed hair, and bags under my eyes that Tesco wants back.”
“So?”
She says it with a slight tilt of her head, her smile turning wry, her face looking so young and unguarded. Naomi doesn’t let her guard down much - how can Emily do it every fucking day? Especially considering how many times Naomi has fucked things up. Why does she keep letting her?
Naomi sighs, burying her face in the pillow, away from such constant attention.
Emily shuffles up closer, their sides touching, lips an inch from her ear. “You know I’m a morning person.”
She smiles at the implication, shoots back; “You know I’m not. Turns out, we’re really not very compatible. Time to revoke the gay card, I think.”
“I think we’re compatible in some areas,” Emily’s voice turns raspy, in that way that makes Naomi hard-pressed to resist anything.
She keeps her face pressed into the pillow. “Yeah, I know which areas you’re talking about, Fitch. I’m not a piece of meat, alright?”
Emily laughs softly in her ear. The sound of it makes Naomi’s breath catch and it all feels so unreal, so alien to her. That anyone could affect her in the way that Emily and her fucking voice can.
“Come on, you wouldn’t even let me touch you last night,” Emily slides an arm around her waist.
Naomi turns away from the safety of the pillow to be met with dark brown eyes so close. “I was revising.”
“I know,” Emily shifts forward so their foreheads touch. “But you’re not anymore.”
She looks into those eyes and falls.
Emily kisses her, whispers “I missed you.”
It’s a stupid statement, utterly ridiculous. They’ve spent every day together, every night; all they’ve done is forgo touching for a few hours. But Naomi can’t help but feel idiotically pleased.
This love thing is weird, she decides not for the first time.
//
Naomi’s mum seems to love Emily. Ever since she’d kicked out the various freaks and weirdoes that had lived among them, the house had felt sort of empty. Her mother seemed to take to Emily strongly because of this.
Naomi had come downstairs one morning - slightly disorientated from waking up alone, and then annoyed with herself for feeling so displaced - to find the pair of them chatting at the kitchen table over a cup of tea.
The domesticity of the situation threw Naomi off for several moments as she watched them silently.
She’d never vocally come out to her mum. She didn’t see the point or need to and her mum figured it out all by herself anyway. Most of the time they carried on as normal and Gina didn’t even acknowledge how happy she was that Naomi had found someone who loved her.
Just the thought made Naomi want to be sick. Her mum was so bloody annoying sometimes.
Gina caught her eye suddenly. “Alright, love? Tea’s here if you want it.”
Emily looked over her shoulder and her face melted from restrained politeness to pure happiness, almost delight.
It made Naomi take an actual step back.
//
Naomi is trying her best to be more open, now. They’re easing into a comfortable pattern and she finds herself thinking about Emily all the time. It’s both infuriating and inevitable. So she tries to give in. Tries to be honest.
“Why’re you always looking at me?” She asks one morning in bed.
Emily doesn’t flinch, just shrugs with one shoulder. “Because I can.”
Naomi looks at her, waiting for the rest.
“Because I’ve done it for so long, it’s a habit,” Emily laughs to herself then turns serious again in an instant, eyes finding Naomi’s. “Because I’m allowed to now. And because I’m trying to work out why.”
She shifts on her side, curling her arm up under her head. “Why what?”
“Why you’re with me. You’re beautiful.”
Naomi fights against her instincts to shirk away from the compliment and instead reaches out to run her hands across Emily’s face and down to rest on her neck. She strokes her fingers across the soft warm skin and feels her pulse beating against her fingertips. “So are you.”
Emily smiles, disbelieving. “Yeah, okay.”
“You are,” Naomi says staunchly.
“You were named after a supermodel. I think that says something.”
Naomi rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, ‘cos we have so much in common.”
Emily smiles softly. “You’re all long legs and blonde hair and I’m a midget with eyes like Gollum. You said it once, remember.”
“I was joking,” She grins, leaning in. “And I like that you’re a midget. Small but perfectly formed, I’d say.”
Emily blushes at the rather ineloquent compliment. “Fuck off.”
Naomi kisses her instead.
//
The first time Naomi is face to face with Katie she wants to take it easy, to establish whatever the fuck is going to happen slowly. She doesn’t want to rub her face in anything. She doesn’t expect to be friends, fuck no, but she just wants to be civil.
They’re in a club when the two of them cross paths. Naomi is making her way to the toilets as Katie is vacating them. They both come to a halt almost comically.
Katie looks her up and down. “What?”
Naomi was expecting this. Still, she wants to try and be nice. This is Emily’s sister and god knows she couldn’t escape her family forever. Even if she wanted to.
“Katie,” Naomi acknowledges her. “You alright?”
She frowns. “Fucking great. We should do this again sometime, really.”
Naomi blocks her way as she makes to leave. “Katie, can we try? Can we at least try?”
Before the twin can make any sort of answer Emily has appeared out of nowhere, her arms wrapping around Naomi from behind, her chin just managing to rest upon her shoulder.
“Leave it, Katie.” Emily’s voice is dismissive, unconcerned.
As she pulls Naomi around in her arms to face her, Naomi catches a glimpse of Katie’s eye roll; her face hardening before she strides away on her too-tall heels and disappears into the crowds.
When Naomi is met with Emily’s reassuring smile all she can do is frown.
//
Naomi sits down by the harbour, alone. She has a book with her but she doesn’t look at it. She sits with her legs swinging out over the sea and her arms resting upon the safety railings.
She doesn’t really know why she’s here, save for the fact that it’s pretty and it seemed like a good place to come and be a cliché; the lone girl on the pier, eyes haunted by some unknown past.
Truth is she has no reason to be haunted. Life is good. Life is better than it’s ever been.
Still she thinks. Still.
//
“You look nice, love.”
Naomi’s face scrunches up. “Shut up, mum.”
Emily grins. “You do.”
She sticks her middle finger up at the pair of them, hopeful they can’t see the tremor running through her. She doesn’t want to look nice, well, she does but more so she wants to look respectable. Doesn’t want to look like a daughter-corrupting butch dyke.
She is having dinner at the Fitch house tonight. Emily’s been insisting upon it for weeks with that newfound defiant righteous indignation of hers. Jenna had finally submitted but Naomi wasn’t really sure this was a good thing.
Emily’s mother hated her. This dinner was going to be a witch hunt and she was the one on the stake.
Oblivious, Emily’s grin didn’t waver.
When they get there Emily is holding tightly onto her hand. It seems like a show they’re putting on, rather than just a gesture in itself. Naomi doesn’t mind much, though, because she feels as if she needs something to hold onto.
It’s Emily’s dad who she meets first.
“Alright, kid?” He says to Emily first and then upon seeing her enter he stands up more rigidly. “Hello, love. You must be the girl my daughter’s been ‘nailing’, eh?”
Naomi’s eyes widen and she’s lost for words. The weirdest thing of all is that he has a Liverpool accent.
“Rob!” Jenna scowls.
She seems to have conjured herself up out of nothing, like the wicked witch of the west and Naomi is having a hard time trying to put away the witch imagery. Jenna on a broomstick flying around the living room might not be implausible, though.
“Naomi,” she arches an eyebrow.
She smiles bitterly. “Jenna.”
“Mum, the fucking lasagne is burning!”
It’s Katie’s voice that breaks the awkward tension of the moment and Jenna disappears in the general direction of the kitchen whilst simultaneously chastising her daughter for the swearing. Emily squeezes Naomi’s hand reassuringly.
Her dad looks at the pair of them. “Got to say, Emsy, you’ve done well here, kid. Us Fitch’s always snag the lookers, eh?”
Emily gives her father a look as Naomi wishes the ground would swallow her up. Since when did her life become this horrible well of domestic family life and awkward meet-the-family situations? She should be at home listening to music and reading some pretentious literature or something. Not this. Whatever this really was.
Emily’s little brother walks into the room. Stops as he sees her. He looks her over for a long moment and then asks curiously, “Does scissoring actually work?”
//
“I love you.”
Emily looks up at her, surprised.
They’re sitting in a shitty café, bored as fuck, reading free magazines that are at least five years old. It’s not really the time for any kind of romantic overture but Naomi felt it. So she said it.
“Just saying.” Naomi shrugs and looks away.
//
Emily undresses her like she is the most interesting thing in the world. It’s late and they’re both tired, both half-cut from some stupid party that they thought would be a good idea. Naomi flopped onto her bed as soon as she crashed loudly through the door and hasn’t moved since.
She watches surreptitiously from behind slanted eyelids as Emily kicks her shoes off and then climbs onto the bed, climbs onto Naomi. She watches as Emily looks her up and down slowly before leaning forward to reach the buttons of her shirt.
She undoes her shirt and slides it off her shoulders with care. Emily shifts down the length of her, unzipping her skirt and pulling it away just as slowly. She does the same with her shoes, placing them carefully onto the floor without her eyes ever having left Naomi. It makes no sense to Naomi. They’re drunk. Nothing should be careful when you’re drunk.
Emily straddles her again, regards her for a brief moment, a strangely pleased smile on her face, before she climbs over and settles at her side.
Naomi doesn’t understand.
//
She can’t pretend to herself that she doesn’t feel trapped sometimes. She does. She feels it deep within her bones. Trapped from what, she isn’t entirely sure. Someone loving you entirely shouldn’t be a bad thing, should it? It shouldn’t feel stifling. It shouldn’t feel like pushing against the tide, right?
Naomi ponders these things silently to herself. She knows it’s her problem not Emily’s.
She loves Emily. Emily loves her.
This is undeniable.
Why does it feel inescapable too?
//
Emily rolls over in her sleep one night and throws an arm haphazardly out, reaching for Naomi.
Naomi is not in bed. She is standing at her window, looking into the dark street outside. She crushes out the cigarette she has been smoking into an ashtray and opens the window to let the smell out and the cold air in.
She closes her eyes and breathes deep.
“Naomi?”
Her eyes snap open and she looks over her shoulder at the girl sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around her waist, and dark eyes meeting hers.
Naomi closes the window and goes back to Emily.
Characters/Pairings: Naomi/Emily
Rating: PG
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: Set at some stage after the Love Ball. Inside Naomi’s head. Not such a sunshiny place to be. The difficulties of being in a relationship for the first time.
Spoilers: Season 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Skins or any of the Skins characters. This is intended for entertainment, not profit.
Author's note: I kind of empathise with Naomi. This cannot be a good thing.
Emily is always just right there now.
It’s not a bad thing. Not exactly. It’s just so much. Naomi is used to having her own space, her room is hers, and now she has to share.
She does love Emily. She loves her in ways she didn’t think she’d be able to love anyone.
But sometimes she’d just like to wake up alone.
Instead big brown eyes looking at her with warmth is what greets her every morning these days. Naomi is fine with that most of the time, more than fine. Sometimes, though, she has to check herself. She has to remember to smile; she has to remember not to roll onto her side away.
Those eyes. They see too much. Worse still, they appear to like what they see. Naomi still doesn’t understand this level of devotion. For her. For her. She’s the least deserving person of a love so exact, so bottomless.
It scares her sometimes, how much Emily loves her.
//
She’s just sneaking into wakefulness one morning when arms slip around her waist and lips touch the skin between her shoulder blades.
It’s not anticipatory, Emily doesn’t expect reciprocation, and somehow that makes it more confusing.
These little touches and little moments that she grabs at are not conscious to Emily. She just wants to be closer to Naomi. She just wants to be close.
Naomi wishes she could let herself feel as much as Emily does.
//
“Mornin” Naomi mumbles opening her eyes briefly to catch Emily’s wide awake stare, before closing them again.
She feels her shift closer. “Hi.”
They’ve both had a long night; Naomi’s been studying for an exam she has to make up from last term and Emily insisted upon helping. It all turned out much better than she had expected and they’d actually managed to get a lot of revision done. Naomi was still getting used to someone wanting to help her.
It felt oddly nice. Not like surrender. Not at all.
Emily’s breath is warm against her cheek. A hesitant moment passes before her lips brush against Naomi’s skin. Naomi remains still, desperately trying to cling onto the notion of sleep.
Emily has other ideas.
Her lips move to press a ridiculous kiss on the tip of Naomi’s nose that, despite herself, causes her to smile sleepily. The next time Emily’s kiss lands it meets her jaw line and Naomi can feel the curve of her lips and knows she is smiling too.
It’s all so incredibly soppy. Naomi rather likes it, really.
Emily’s hands find their way to her waist and slip up under her T-shirt in a very practiced way. Her hands are cold and Naomi shrinks away from them, laughing drowsily. She scoots backwards on the mattress and submits to opening her eyes fully.
Emily is still smiling, her eyes still all for Naomi.
“Jesus, Em,” Naomi manages, rubbing at her face. “Some of us are tryin’ to get some fucking beauty sleep, you know?”
Her eyes inspected her closely. “Why? Not like you need any.”
Naomi rolls her eyes in reply, secretly quite enjoying it. Emily does find her beautiful. Even if she’s seen her face twisted ugly with anger, jealousy, and callousness. Naomi doesn’t pretend to understand the attraction.
Emily moves in to kiss her.
“Not a good idea.” Naomi places a hand against her collarbone. “Having serious mornin’ breath issues, plus bed hair, and bags under my eyes that Tesco wants back.”
“So?”
She says it with a slight tilt of her head, her smile turning wry, her face looking so young and unguarded. Naomi doesn’t let her guard down much - how can Emily do it every fucking day? Especially considering how many times Naomi has fucked things up. Why does she keep letting her?
Naomi sighs, burying her face in the pillow, away from such constant attention.
Emily shuffles up closer, their sides touching, lips an inch from her ear. “You know I’m a morning person.”
She smiles at the implication, shoots back; “You know I’m not. Turns out, we’re really not very compatible. Time to revoke the gay card, I think.”
“I think we’re compatible in some areas,” Emily’s voice turns raspy, in that way that makes Naomi hard-pressed to resist anything.
She keeps her face pressed into the pillow. “Yeah, I know which areas you’re talking about, Fitch. I’m not a piece of meat, alright?”
Emily laughs softly in her ear. The sound of it makes Naomi’s breath catch and it all feels so unreal, so alien to her. That anyone could affect her in the way that Emily and her fucking voice can.
“Come on, you wouldn’t even let me touch you last night,” Emily slides an arm around her waist.
Naomi turns away from the safety of the pillow to be met with dark brown eyes so close. “I was revising.”
“I know,” Emily shifts forward so their foreheads touch. “But you’re not anymore.”
She looks into those eyes and falls.
Emily kisses her, whispers “I missed you.”
It’s a stupid statement, utterly ridiculous. They’ve spent every day together, every night; all they’ve done is forgo touching for a few hours. But Naomi can’t help but feel idiotically pleased.
This love thing is weird, she decides not for the first time.
//
Naomi’s mum seems to love Emily. Ever since she’d kicked out the various freaks and weirdoes that had lived among them, the house had felt sort of empty. Her mother seemed to take to Emily strongly because of this.
Naomi had come downstairs one morning - slightly disorientated from waking up alone, and then annoyed with herself for feeling so displaced - to find the pair of them chatting at the kitchen table over a cup of tea.
The domesticity of the situation threw Naomi off for several moments as she watched them silently.
She’d never vocally come out to her mum. She didn’t see the point or need to and her mum figured it out all by herself anyway. Most of the time they carried on as normal and Gina didn’t even acknowledge how happy she was that Naomi had found someone who loved her.
Just the thought made Naomi want to be sick. Her mum was so bloody annoying sometimes.
Gina caught her eye suddenly. “Alright, love? Tea’s here if you want it.”
Emily looked over her shoulder and her face melted from restrained politeness to pure happiness, almost delight.
It made Naomi take an actual step back.
//
Naomi is trying her best to be more open, now. They’re easing into a comfortable pattern and she finds herself thinking about Emily all the time. It’s both infuriating and inevitable. So she tries to give in. Tries to be honest.
“Why’re you always looking at me?” She asks one morning in bed.
Emily doesn’t flinch, just shrugs with one shoulder. “Because I can.”
Naomi looks at her, waiting for the rest.
“Because I’ve done it for so long, it’s a habit,” Emily laughs to herself then turns serious again in an instant, eyes finding Naomi’s. “Because I’m allowed to now. And because I’m trying to work out why.”
She shifts on her side, curling her arm up under her head. “Why what?”
“Why you’re with me. You’re beautiful.”
Naomi fights against her instincts to shirk away from the compliment and instead reaches out to run her hands across Emily’s face and down to rest on her neck. She strokes her fingers across the soft warm skin and feels her pulse beating against her fingertips. “So are you.”
Emily smiles, disbelieving. “Yeah, okay.”
“You are,” Naomi says staunchly.
“You were named after a supermodel. I think that says something.”
Naomi rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, ‘cos we have so much in common.”
Emily smiles softly. “You’re all long legs and blonde hair and I’m a midget with eyes like Gollum. You said it once, remember.”
“I was joking,” She grins, leaning in. “And I like that you’re a midget. Small but perfectly formed, I’d say.”
Emily blushes at the rather ineloquent compliment. “Fuck off.”
Naomi kisses her instead.
//
The first time Naomi is face to face with Katie she wants to take it easy, to establish whatever the fuck is going to happen slowly. She doesn’t want to rub her face in anything. She doesn’t expect to be friends, fuck no, but she just wants to be civil.
They’re in a club when the two of them cross paths. Naomi is making her way to the toilets as Katie is vacating them. They both come to a halt almost comically.
Katie looks her up and down. “What?”
Naomi was expecting this. Still, she wants to try and be nice. This is Emily’s sister and god knows she couldn’t escape her family forever. Even if she wanted to.
“Katie,” Naomi acknowledges her. “You alright?”
She frowns. “Fucking great. We should do this again sometime, really.”
Naomi blocks her way as she makes to leave. “Katie, can we try? Can we at least try?”
Before the twin can make any sort of answer Emily has appeared out of nowhere, her arms wrapping around Naomi from behind, her chin just managing to rest upon her shoulder.
“Leave it, Katie.” Emily’s voice is dismissive, unconcerned.
As she pulls Naomi around in her arms to face her, Naomi catches a glimpse of Katie’s eye roll; her face hardening before she strides away on her too-tall heels and disappears into the crowds.
When Naomi is met with Emily’s reassuring smile all she can do is frown.
//
Naomi sits down by the harbour, alone. She has a book with her but she doesn’t look at it. She sits with her legs swinging out over the sea and her arms resting upon the safety railings.
She doesn’t really know why she’s here, save for the fact that it’s pretty and it seemed like a good place to come and be a cliché; the lone girl on the pier, eyes haunted by some unknown past.
Truth is she has no reason to be haunted. Life is good. Life is better than it’s ever been.
Still she thinks. Still.
//
“You look nice, love.”
Naomi’s face scrunches up. “Shut up, mum.”
Emily grins. “You do.”
She sticks her middle finger up at the pair of them, hopeful they can’t see the tremor running through her. She doesn’t want to look nice, well, she does but more so she wants to look respectable. Doesn’t want to look like a daughter-corrupting butch dyke.
She is having dinner at the Fitch house tonight. Emily’s been insisting upon it for weeks with that newfound defiant righteous indignation of hers. Jenna had finally submitted but Naomi wasn’t really sure this was a good thing.
Emily’s mother hated her. This dinner was going to be a witch hunt and she was the one on the stake.
Oblivious, Emily’s grin didn’t waver.
When they get there Emily is holding tightly onto her hand. It seems like a show they’re putting on, rather than just a gesture in itself. Naomi doesn’t mind much, though, because she feels as if she needs something to hold onto.
It’s Emily’s dad who she meets first.
“Alright, kid?” He says to Emily first and then upon seeing her enter he stands up more rigidly. “Hello, love. You must be the girl my daughter’s been ‘nailing’, eh?”
Naomi’s eyes widen and she’s lost for words. The weirdest thing of all is that he has a Liverpool accent.
“Rob!” Jenna scowls.
She seems to have conjured herself up out of nothing, like the wicked witch of the west and Naomi is having a hard time trying to put away the witch imagery. Jenna on a broomstick flying around the living room might not be implausible, though.
“Naomi,” she arches an eyebrow.
She smiles bitterly. “Jenna.”
“Mum, the fucking lasagne is burning!”
It’s Katie’s voice that breaks the awkward tension of the moment and Jenna disappears in the general direction of the kitchen whilst simultaneously chastising her daughter for the swearing. Emily squeezes Naomi’s hand reassuringly.
Her dad looks at the pair of them. “Got to say, Emsy, you’ve done well here, kid. Us Fitch’s always snag the lookers, eh?”
Emily gives her father a look as Naomi wishes the ground would swallow her up. Since when did her life become this horrible well of domestic family life and awkward meet-the-family situations? She should be at home listening to music and reading some pretentious literature or something. Not this. Whatever this really was.
Emily’s little brother walks into the room. Stops as he sees her. He looks her over for a long moment and then asks curiously, “Does scissoring actually work?”
//
“I love you.”
Emily looks up at her, surprised.
They’re sitting in a shitty café, bored as fuck, reading free magazines that are at least five years old. It’s not really the time for any kind of romantic overture but Naomi felt it. So she said it.
“Just saying.” Naomi shrugs and looks away.
//
Emily undresses her like she is the most interesting thing in the world. It’s late and they’re both tired, both half-cut from some stupid party that they thought would be a good idea. Naomi flopped onto her bed as soon as she crashed loudly through the door and hasn’t moved since.
She watches surreptitiously from behind slanted eyelids as Emily kicks her shoes off and then climbs onto the bed, climbs onto Naomi. She watches as Emily looks her up and down slowly before leaning forward to reach the buttons of her shirt.
She undoes her shirt and slides it off her shoulders with care. Emily shifts down the length of her, unzipping her skirt and pulling it away just as slowly. She does the same with her shoes, placing them carefully onto the floor without her eyes ever having left Naomi. It makes no sense to Naomi. They’re drunk. Nothing should be careful when you’re drunk.
Emily straddles her again, regards her for a brief moment, a strangely pleased smile on her face, before she climbs over and settles at her side.
Naomi doesn’t understand.
//
She can’t pretend to herself that she doesn’t feel trapped sometimes. She does. She feels it deep within her bones. Trapped from what, she isn’t entirely sure. Someone loving you entirely shouldn’t be a bad thing, should it? It shouldn’t feel stifling. It shouldn’t feel like pushing against the tide, right?
Naomi ponders these things silently to herself. She knows it’s her problem not Emily’s.
She loves Emily. Emily loves her.
This is undeniable.
Why does it feel inescapable too?
//
Emily rolls over in her sleep one night and throws an arm haphazardly out, reaching for Naomi.
Naomi is not in bed. She is standing at her window, looking into the dark street outside. She crushes out the cigarette she has been smoking into an ashtray and opens the window to let the smell out and the cold air in.
She closes her eyes and breathes deep.
“Naomi?”
Her eyes snap open and she looks over her shoulder at the girl sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around her waist, and dark eyes meeting hers.
Naomi closes the window and goes back to Emily.