The concert was in eight hours. Nobody was coming. Melissa couldn’t tell whether she cared about that.

Mary had every reason to hate her. She would, eventually, when she understood better. She’d understand what a horrible, deluded liar Melissa was. Melissa had never meant to help Mary. Not really. A sinking ship could tell itself it was a submarine all it liked; people still drowned.

There weren’t any classes on a Saturday for either of them, so she’d spent most of the day holed up in the dorm room, drifting in and out of empty dreams. Mary was out, had been out all morning. Lizzy knew she ought to go get lunch, but lying in bed pretending she was a fallen log also felt very important right now for some reason. She just wasn't hungry.

Well, no, she was hungry. She'd just eaten two bags of honey cookies, so clearly she was hungry. Just not for. Eating.

Sylvia had put the paperwork through last night. It would be finalized first thing tomorrow morning. She’d be moving into Lucy’s dorm room by 5pm tomorrow, and. That would be that.

Lucy had given her permission to sleep there for tonight, even though things weren’t official yet. Lucy hated saying no to anyone. But did Lucy even like her? Did anyone here like her? Mary had only liked her because Mary was... new. She was a freshman. She was younger than Melissa. She was, what, eighteen? Nineteen? She'd needed someone to walk her through things, to guide her through the adult world, and she'd gotten a predator.

Melissa Charm let out a groan and sat up straight. She couldn't sit with this anymore.

She went over to open the window. She peered outside—nobody seemed to be out there, but her dorm was lucky enough to face the courtyard. Trees rose to flank the window, close enough that she'd thought once or twice about hanging a hummingbird feeder from a branch.

She popped the screen out, pulled it inside, and flew out of the fourth-story window. Her wings buzzed to life, carrying her down into the trees.

They weren't strictly allowed to use their windows to exit except in emergencies. They also weren't allowed to seduce freshmen. Melissa preferred that people notice one affront instead of the other.

The courtyard was empty. It was a cloudy fall day, and the leaves glistened with rainwater, telling Melissa it had just showered. Normally, the risk of rain, too, would be a deterrent for flying. Today, it felt like a guarantee she'd be left alone. She flew up to a branch and took a seat, resting her chin in her palms.

She’d just been so… so bored at the start of the semester. And lonely. And there was Mary, all cute and shy and… and confused about the littlest things, the simplest things. So easy to tease, to flirt with without admitting she was flirting, to suggest things to. And so kind to Lizzy.

Melissa heard a soft rattling from above, and a droplet of water struck her cheek as she looked up. It had started to rain again.

She felt a sting of regret. Beegirls couldn't fly in even slight rainfall—as strong as their wings were, they handled water very badly. Now she was stranded in a tree for who-knew-how-long.

Her shoulders slumped. Well, there were six hours until the concert. It wasn't like she'd had anything better to do.

Melissa leaned back against the mossy trunk and listened to the chorus of drips. Was this what it was like to fly alone? Everything felt so quiet and peaceful.

No wonder Mary liked it.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Seriously, though, what the hell do you think's going on with them? I've never seen roommates switch on each other so fast. You think it's politics?”

Alexis's shoulders heaved. As they passed by the common room's table, the vespinne retrieved a nickel from her pocket and dropped it into the swear jar. “I haven't got any idea, and it isn't any of our business.”

“You are such a fibber.” Denise shouldered her roommate.

“I'm lying that it... isn't our business?”

“Alexis, you're basically the dorm's oracle. You've got ideas about everything.” Denise glanced at the jar. “Hey, what do you think Sylvia does with that money, anyways?”

“I genuinely have no idea.”

“Yeah, she's tightlipped. I bet she's embezzling it. I mean, she gave me a whole lecture about pirating my textbooks, but there's no way she can afford—”

“It gets put into a pool administrated by the Resident Director, and she uses it to help fund events. Stop pirating your books, by the way. It’s a crime.”

“You literally photograph your books at the library, narc. I thought you said you didn't know?”

“That's not piracy.” Alexis rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the couch and setting her dinner tray to the side. “And I meant about Mary and Lizzy.”

“You're so full of bull.”

“About—”

“About both things!”

“Nessie, it genuinely isn't our business!”

“First off, it is!” Denise sat down next to Alexis. “Because we live with them, ergo any problems they have are gonna turn into our problems sooner or later, and then the drama’s gonna spread to the whole hall and we can have another Rice Cooker Situation. And second, I'm really, really curious! Like, when Mary came here, she was clinging to Lizzy's leg like a baby duckling. They were watching movies together every night, Lizzy was always getting called away to help her with things, and Lizzy was… like, she was in a better mood than I think I've ever seen her. Then one day, Lizzy starts refusing to talk to Mary, Mary acts like she shot Lizzy's puppy, and now they're fighting over who gets to move out of the room? A room which, by the way, just to draw attention—” Denise held up her hand while she took in a breath. “—is positioned directly between the exit and the bathrooms and faces the courtyard, which makes it it objectively, scientifically, the best room in the hall?”

Her monologue delivered, Denise leaned back in her seat and started pulling stuff out of her lunchbox.

“So.” Alexis was rubbing her forehead, her eyes closed. “Can you... remind me why you never enter your 'legs form’ when you’re in public? Out here, I mean?”

Denise blinked. “Okay, so this is the bit where you ask a question that seems totally unrelated to make a point, right?”

Alexis gave a small smile. “Yes.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. She hesitated, but simply refusing to take the bait was never really an option with someone as stubborn as Alexis. “It's easier to sit down with two legs. And it's easier to fit on the couch with you. You know.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Alexis’s gaze was relentless. Denise avoided it. “Also, a lot of people are scared of spiders, and I don't like confrontation.”

“Denise, you love confrontation. You'd make a great vespinne.”

“I don't like that confrontation.” Denise grimaced. “And you'd make a great aranea, with how you always weave around the issue like you're trying to trap me in something. You wanna make that point now?”

She met Alexis's gaze. Alexis's dark green eyes glittered with intensity. “My point is that people keep secrets for a reason. Us knowing the issue might make things even worse. I mean, it might cause more confrontations than it prevents.”

Denise considered this for a moment, nibbling her bottom lip.

All eight of her eyes lit up. “... so, you do have an idea!”

“Well, yes.” Alexis couldn't hold back a smirk. “I mean, I'm the dorm's oracle. Of course I have an idea.”

“Yesss. I knew it. I'm the Alexis's oracle.”

“I guess you can call it that~”

“Maybe I will! You can’t get away with playing dumb when I know you’re the second-smartest girl in the hall.”

“The smartest being you.”

“The smartest being me, as the Alexis’s oracle. Because I always know when you know.”

“You do know. And I do have a guess.”

Denise bobbed her head smugly.

“But I'm not going to tell you.” Alexis leaned back in her seat, her voice almost singsong as she started to dig into her dinner. “Because it's none of your business~”

Denise’s smirk burned away into an infuriated pout. “Oh my God, you are such a bitch!”

Alexis gave a weary sigh, taking out a nickel and tossing it onto the table. “Swear jar, Denise.”

“No throwing stuff, Lexy,” Denise mimicked.

Alexis rolled her eyes and turned back to her meal, finally taking a bite.

“You think they're homosexuals?”

Alexis choked, and a bit of bread lodged in her throat. She coughed and sputtered, clutching at her neck, hacking and coughing.

“Whoa!” Denise lunged over and banged her fist on Alexis's back. “Easy does it! Chew your food, Alexis.”

“That doesn't—” Alexis shook Denise's hand off, finally clearing her throat, reflexive tears in her eyes. “You complete nonce, that's literally the opposite of what you’re supposed to do if someone's choking!”

“... chewing your food?”

“UGH.”

“Hey, um, Alexis? Denise?”

They both looked up. Mary stood in the hallway entrance, hands clasped behind her back.

“Oh, hey, Mary!” Alexis cleared her throat again and smiled. “How’s it… how’s it going?”

“Um. Great, actually.” Mary returned the smile, although it looked distinctly fragile.

“Really?” Denise asked. Alexis shot her a look.

“Yeah.” Mary nodded. “Actually, though, there’s… something I wanted to talk to you two about.” She hesitated. “By the way, do you know where Ksenia is?”

~ ~ ~ ~

Moonvine was just about to close up the damn shop when that girl walked in. Two minutes to closure. May was going to be pissed with her if she got home after dark again.

It was a mothgirl. Skittish-looking, in the uniform from that university down the road. Vine didn’t see folks come in here much from that place.

If May’d been here, she'd probably go and try to help, but Vine considered asking for help to be the customer's job, so she just held in a sigh and decided to make herself busy. The calathea still needed some care. That was a way to pass the time.

Every now and then, she stole a glance at the moth. There she was, fluttering from flower to flower. She looked furtive, which made Vine paranoid that she was contemplating stealing a cutting. Vine hated when customers thought they could get away with that shit.

But no, this girl didn't read like a thief. She was hovering by the bouquets, but she was barely even looking at them. Actually, she seemed a little afraid to do so.

After about five minutes past closing, Vine had had enough. “Hey, you,” she called.

The mothgirl froze as stiff as a board, then took two hurried steps away from the flower display. She stared up at Vine, eyes as wide as doilies.

Vine gestured to the door. “'S past closing. Best be makin' up your mind soon.”

“Oh!” The moth looked at the door, then back at Vine. Her voice trembled. “Right, yes! I'm—I'm very sorry, I didn't notice.”

“I could tell.” Vine tried to keep her voice light. This girl looked fragile. “You findin' everything okay?”

“Oh, um.” The moth glanced nervously at the flowers, then back towards Vine, her gaze aimed carefully over the dryad's head. “Well. I was, um, wondering about...”

“Saw you dwelling by the picked roses.” Vine came over, though she kept her eyes on the plants. “Got someone in mind for 'em?”

“No!” the moth squeaked. “I mean, yes, but—well, I don't want it to seem...” She hesitated. Precious past-closing-hours seconds ticked by. “I mean, a rose is so...”

“Too much?” Vine raised an eyebrow.

“I just don't know if she'd... I mean...” The moth glanced at the clock, then at her hands. Her cheeks were red. “I don't want it to seem too. Intense.”

‘She’.

Vine chewed her inner cheek. Ah.

She gave a sigh. “Well… you know, you could pick someone a handful of dandelions off the road and they'd probably like it just fine. Don't need a florist's help for that.”

“Right.”

“But givin' someone a bouquet at all is a little dramatic, don't you think? Obvious, and all. Don’t want to come in too hot. In fact, I wonder if what you really want,” Vine said, tapping the poor, doomed churchgirl's shoulder and leading her over to another display, “is more of a slow burn.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Lizzy had decided she wasn't going to the concert.

Well, it had been decided for her. It had rained for three full hours while she'd been in that tree, and she'd had to wait another fifteen minutes to be sure her wings were dry before flying down. By then, too exhausted and worn down to even worry about Mary, she'd stumbled into the dorms and flopped onto her bed, barely registering she'd left the window open and the bottom mattress was soaked.

When she'd woken up, it was an hour to rehearsal, and she'd realized she'd forgotten to do laundry. All she had was what she was wearing—her damp, wrinkled school uniform.

So instead of going to the concert, she'd decided to go on her laptop and play every game embedded into the search engine. That took a while. It was crazy how many little games they'd put on this site instead of figuring out how to filter the AI garbage.

It was now fifteen minutes to rehearsal. Even if she showed up now, she might still get yelled at for cutting it close. Was there even any point?

Sure, it would fuck up her whole semester, and with that, her whole four-year plan. Sure, everyone in her program would hate her. Nothing she could do about it now. The choice had been made for her.

We are not compelled.

The phrase popped into her head like a bubble simmering to the surface of hot water.

She pushed it away reflexively, focusing on her game, or trying to. But she wasn't very good at this game, and every time she lost, it made her wait a few seconds to start again, and that phrase kept… bubbling back up.

Not compelled.

What was that from? Was it a Bible quote? It nagged at her like one, like something she had to feel guilty about. She just couldn't put her finger on...

We are not compelled. It was Mary's voice saying the words.

Now Lizzy remembered. That was from Week One, right after the... the first time. Mary had said that while reassuring her.

It was such... such bullshit. Mary had no idea what she was talking about. She'd barely understood what Lizzy had done. Lizzy had been so, so good at lying to herself about it that she'd fooled Mary, too.

And still, the phrase... itched. Mary had been so firm about it. If it wasn't from the Bible—and Lizzy knew the Bible pretty well—it was definitely a quote from somewhere, right?

Lizzy closed the tab, then the browser. She sat there in her chair, chewing on her lower lip.

”Screw it,” she muttered, rising to her feet.

She was going to the stupid concert. It was her choice, laundry or no, and she wasn't a quitter. She'd just have to ask to borrow a uniform off Denise. Denise was close to her size, and that girl barely wore her uniform even to classes.

She went out to the common room, bracing for the stares at her disheveled appearance… only to find it empty.

Lizzy grimaced. Figures. She went to knock on Denise's and Alexis's door. There was no response. “Oh, come on.”

She hesitated, then went to try Sylvia's door. Three knocks. Nothing.

“This is bullshit,” she whined, knocking again, subconsciously hoping the swearword would summon Sylvia's wrath. It didn't.

She checked her phone. It was 5:25. Five minutes to rehearsal.

With a groan of frustration, Lizzy went back to her own room to get her bag. Soggy or not, she was going to this stupid concert.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Cutting it pretty close, Melissa,” Joanne said with a dry chuckle as Lizzy practically fell through the doorway. “Trouble finding an umbrella?”

Lizzy was panting for breath, but she managed to straighten and smile. She knew she was drenched. “Sorry I'm late.”

“Rehearsal hasn't started yet, so you're not late so much as you're not early.” Their instructor waved her to her place. “Don't let it happen again.”

“Got it.” Lizzy hurried to the piano, flicking her wings to dry them out. She rummaged around in her bag for her sheet music, carefully secured in a plastic bag, and reviewed the first psalm they'd be performing. She knew this one by heart.

The pre-show rehearsal went by in a fuzzy blur. Lizzy played her part; it was automatic at this point. Afterward, everyone took their break, checked their instruments once more. Lizzy browsed her phone for cute animal pics.

At least she was too stressed right now to think about the... everything else. Nobody she knew would be out there tonight.

That thought put a pit in Melissa's stomach. She tried to focus on the notes.

The show was about to start. Joanne gave them a speech. Everyone was smiling. Nobody else seemed nervous.

Nobody else seemed to be relying on going numb to get through this.

I used to love music, Melissa stupidly let herself start thinking, and tears were welling in her eyes as the curtains parted.

The vocal solo started first. It was beautiful. Melissa didn't like the song much nowadays, but the way Deborah's voice rose to resonate against the curved walls of the auditorium was breathtaking. The strings coming in always made Melissa smile—and then the percussion, pounding echoes driving the song forward—and even tonight, her head lifted, and she looked at the audience to see if they felt it, too.

It was a packed auditorium. She smiled a little at that, even though it was bittersweet. Everyone else had their friends and families there to watch. It was so petty of her to resent that, but Melissa liked music because of how it affected the people she loved. Today just wasn't…

Her train of thought ground to a half. Her gaze descended upon the third aisle. Wait. Was that...?

… what are they doing here?

Ksenia was seated in the aisle seat, practically bouncing in her chair. Alexis and Denise flanked her on either side.

Lizzy stared at them, completely bewildered. She could feel the music building to her section, though, and with difficulty, she tore her gaze away and back to the music just in time to push down on the first key. Then the second key, and the melody took hold, and she stopped worrying.

She didn't need to look at the music, nor the instrument. She was good. She was good at music. Lizzy smiled, her fingers tingling as they crept across the keys, carefully efficient in every movement. This wasn't a super exciting piece to play on the piano, but the bridge was pretty fun, at least.

Of course, she wasn't really thinking about the music right now. Her head was spinning. Her dormmates were there? How many of them?

As the other musicians began to reach their places, she stole another glance, searching the same area. Alexis, Ksenia and Denise, who'd all said they couldn’t make it... and there was Sylvia next to Denise, giving Lizzy a little wave. Sylvia only had a brief bout of time off in the early evenings, and she'd said she needed to spend it resting. And there was Nessa, even, who'd been the only person to outright tell Lizzy that she thought orchestras sounded boring.

As they neared the bridge, Lizzy had to return her focus to the music. She sank into the playing, occasionally stealing glances up at her friends as the concert went on. Ksenia kept going to clap every time a movement ended, only for Alexis or Denise to grab her hand and shove it back to her side. Nessa had a bunch of candies wrapped in cloth—right, Nessa was into theater, so she knew better than to bring plastic into a concert hall. Sylvia was bobbing her head to the music, hands clasped in her lap.

And Denise. Denise was. Well. Denise was recording the concert on her phone. She definitely thought she was being subtle, sheltering the phone under her coat where Alexis couldn’t see. That was Denise, alright. An usher was already on their way to take care of it.

Even so, Lizzy couldn't stop smiling. Nessa was nodding along, and the others were smiling up at her. Ksenia's eyes were as big as saucers, as if she’d never been to a concert before in her life.

One movement sank into the next, and then into the next. Lizzy kept stealing glances, and she knew who she was looking for. Lizzy knew it was pointless. It... it was what she'd expected, wasn't it? And so many of her friends had made it.

That was okay. It had to be okay. Because her friends were here. She wasn't playing for strangers, she was playing for them.

And gosh, she loved music.

She was grinning ear to ear by the time the last note was struck—and Ksenia, barely one second later, immediately started applauding.

Lizzy beamed. My friends are a nightmare in a concerthall, she thought, and giggled.

~ ~ ~ ~

The applause faded, the performers bowed, and the concert was over. It was just a minor event, one out of four they would perform this year.

Lizzy let out a deep sigh. She knew her dormmates would be waiting offstage to greet her. She just… wasn't sure she had the energy tonight. She just wanted to get back, change out of her damp clothes, and pass out. So instead of heading out to the main hall, she made her way backstage, sparing only brief smiles and nods to her fellow performers, and headed for the exit.

She felt good. She told herself that, and it was mostly true. She was just tired. Tired and... no, just tired. Tired was what mattered. She exited backstage into the hall, enjoying the solemn silence of this half of the building, a brief calm before the literal storm raging outside—

She heard a crash.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am!” exclaimed a startled voice.

“Sorry!” cried a soft, familiar voice. “I mean, it's okay! I—I wasn't looking. I'll get it, don't worry.”

The voices were coming from the back vestibule. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Melissa crept over and opened the door.

A very flustered-looking antgirl janitor stood facing her right by the back door, staring down what looked like a broken bowl and the person who had dropped it. “Are you sure?” she asked, glancing back at her cart. “Because I can—”

“No!” burst out the figure on the ground. She was on her hands and knees, scooping up bits of pottery and dirt. “I—I can handle it.” Ghostly scaled wings fluttered behind her. Her long white hair draped over her shoulders, concealing her face from Lizzy's view. Dressed in the assigned Hope’s Hill uniform, she cut a waifish, wispy figure. “Please, I'm fine.”

“Okay. Sorry again.” The janitor frowned down at her, then looked up and saw Lizzy. She gave an awkward nod of greeting, then turned, tapped the push button and wheeled her cart out onto the sidewalk.

The outside door clicked shut. Lizzy and the prone figure were left alone in the vestibule.

Lizzy's mouth was dry. She almost turned to bolt. She took a step back. Her own door shut behind her.

The dopterine’s antenna flicked. They turned around to face Lizzy, blinking big, dark eyes..

Mary stared up at her. She licked her lips. “H-Hi, Lizzy.”

~ ~ ~ ~

THIRTY MINUTES AGO

“But—but I bought a ticket?”

“I'm sorry, Ma'am.” The usher's voice was brisk and impatient. They weren't bothering to make eye contact. “We don't let people in after the performance begins. You have to show up on time.”

Mary wanted to retort, but she had nothing she could say. She could feel all her confidence, all her momentum, dripping out of her like water through a sieve. She swallowed. “Oh. I didn't know that.”

“Yeah. Especially not this late. I mean, you wouldn't even get to catch much at this point.”

“Could I just—maybe just lean in and listen? I don't have to sit, I just really, really want to—”

“No, sorry.” They gave a thin smile. “I like your flower, though!”

“Thanks.”

Mary stumbled out the exit door. Her cheeks were burning. She felt like every staffmember was staring at her.

There was no flying in this weather. The rain was like a solid wall; even if she could possibly power her wings through the torrent, she'd never be able to protect Lizzy's present while doing it. It was a long walk back to the dorms.

She walked underneath a cedar tree and stood there, listening to raindrops pound the world around her.

Everything had fallen apart so quickly. She'd taken too long making this stupid plan—too long finding the girls, too long convincing them to show up, and too long at the florist's. She'd run here as fast as she could, but it hadn't mattered, because she'd never had a chance. Stupid. She was so… stupid.

Mary took a deep breath.

No. She wasn't stupid. She'd done her best, and—and it just hadn't been enough. It was fine. She'd just meet Lizzy at the dorms and talk to her then.

She stepped off the path and approached the tree, leaning against it, feeling the rough crackly bark under her hands. Lizzy might not come back to the dorms. At least, not to Mary's dorm room. She'd officially be sharing Lucy's room soon, and Lucy was the type of person who'd let her crash there tonight if Lizzy asked. The common room might be full of people, anyways. It would be. Everyone clustering around Lizzy, eager to congratulate her on her amazing performance.

All thanks to Mary. She chewed her lower lip.

Besides, she thought, with a lump in her throat, she didn't want to talk to Lizzy at the dorm. There was too much... context at the dorm. It was a place of shame and confusion and—and things that stopped being real the next morning. If she talked to Lizzy about this there, she'd seize up. Or Lizzy would. Or it would go perfectly, but fall apart later, like it always did.

She'd just talk to Lizzy tomorrow. They didn't need to resolve this tonight. It was fine to do it after the moveout was finalized. They didn't need to share a dorm room to figure things out. There was no need for a big, stupid, dramatic gesture that might just get Mary humiliated.

Mary took a deep breath.

“S-Screw it,” she muttered, stumbling over the swear, and stormed off back towards the building. She'd sneak in somehow. There was a back entrance, wasn’t there? She'd just say she got lost if someone caught her. She could at least listen to it, pick out Lizzy's delicate piano notes. She’d never heard Lizzy play. She wanted to hear Lizzy play.

The rain hammered down on her as she circled around the building, cutting from the paved sidewalk to courtyard gravel paths. The trees around her offered ample protection from the rain, but as she paused, halfway to her destination, she realized they presented their own problem.

The sidewalks around the campus had lanterns to either side every ten paces or so, ensuring there weren't any dark corners. It was a safety feature they'd been lobbied on for a while, from what she understood. But every university cut corners somewhere.

The gravel path ahead was practically pitch black.

She knew where the back entrance was. She'd been here during daylight hours. It was about twenty paces forward, then a right turn for ten more, and then the doors.

Her heart was pounding louder than the rain.

She took a step forward, focusing on the crunch of the gravel under her shoes.

There were things around her. There weren't, she knew, logically, that there weren't, but there absolutely were. She stared into the darkness.

Her wings flared out, and sheltering her prize as best she could, she took off bolting. Twenty paces. About twenty paces.

The world was swimming, cascading down on her. She couldn't hear anything except the roaring from above, couldn't see anything except…

Mary spotted the faint outline of a rhododendron bush ahead of her just in time. She took a hard right and bolted for the doors. As she turned, lights from inside became faintly visible, and she drew up in front of the doors, panting for breath.

She turned back toward the darkness, trying to quell her heartrate, and let out a weak, embarrassed laugh. “A-Any bats feeling hungry up there? Well, you will simply have to come back later, sorry.”

Still, she had to fumble behind herself for a moment before getting ahold of the doorknob and ducking inside, and she let out a sigh of relief as the soft blue glow of the interior lights washed over her.

For a moment, Mary allowed herself to relax, to be still. She was in light again. She was safe.

Wait. Her breath caught. The concert. Was she too late?

She spun on her heel and—

~ ~ ~ ~

TWO MINUTES LATER

“Hi, Mary.”

On the floor, Mary stared up at Lizzy. She felt like she'd swallowed a whole rosebush, thorns and all.

She looked down at her fallen present, its pretty blue pot cracked neatly in two, then back up at Lizzy. Lizzy looked so... soggy. Her uniform was drenched, and her curly hair, starting to dry, was now trying to escape its cute little bun. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were sunken.

Mary forced the rosebush down. She knew Lizzy'd slept in this morning, but she looked like a wreck, like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Guilt needled at her throat on the way down, but she pushed it away, scooped up what she could of the present—at least the plant itself seemed okay—and rose to her feet. “Lizzy, I...”

“What’s that?”

Mary faltered. Lizzy's tone was cool. She looked down at the plant, then at Lizzy. “It's a. It’s a peanut cactus.”

“A peanut cactus.”

Mary took a deep breath, then set her jaw and looked Lizzy straight in those beautiful golden eyes. “Yes. It's a peanut cactus, and it's for you, because—”

She couldn't read Lizzy. She didn't have to. Nothing mattered. It was all for it.

“I know,” she said, ignoring how her voice wobbled and teetered like a bad dancer, “I know that you're l-lying. I know that you're lying because you, you want to keep me safe, and I don't...” Courage. Steady. “I really, really like you, Lizzy. I think you're—” She blinked rapidly. “I think you're really, really kind, and really funny, and really... pretty.”

Lizzy stared at her. What was that look on her face? Its meaning was on the tip of Mary's fumbling tongue, but her momentum was all that kept her going, so she didn't slow down. “And you're really special. I-I like being around you. I like what we did, what we—and I think you like it too. I think you're pretending you don't, because you want to keep me safe.” You're repeating yourself. Onward, onward. “But I want to be close to you. To stay close. To. To be closer, even. I don't want you to move out.” Were those tears in Lizzy's eyes? Fuck! Keep going. Keep going. Hadn't she planned a speech? She’d planned to plan a speech. Had she come all this way without a plan for what to say? “And I got you a peanut cactus, because I want you to look at it and think of me, and I also—I also want it to be in our dorm. That we share. And we can learn to keep it secret. But I.”

Here it came. She instinctively wanted to look around, to check for any possible witnesses, but Lizzy's eyes had her now, so she gave it all up with a prayer, barely able to bring her voice above a whisper.

“I want to kiss you again.”

Lizzy looked at her, long and hard. Lizzy looked down at the plant.

Lizzy’s eyes returned to Mary. And finally, finally, Mary understood the look on that face. She knew what emotions were creasing Lizzy's brow and curling her lip.

Pity.

And shame.

Mary's spirit quailed—she'd misunderstood, she'd misstepped—then rallied. She hadn't misunderstood. She just had to try again, to make Lizzy understand. “Lizzy, I want—”

“No, you don't!” Lizzy burst out. Her voice echoed in the vestibule, loud enough that her eyes widened and her voice dropped to a hiss. “You don't, Mary! That's the problem! You think you want this, but you don't!”

Mary's mouth was dry. “I... can decide that for myself.”

“Can you?” Lizzy rolled her eyes with a weak, panicked laugh. “Mary, you don't—you barely know what sex is. You don't know anything! You don't know what you're getting into, you're still figuring that out, and I—I took advantage of that.” Those were tears. Lizzy shoved past Mary, hurrying towards the door. “And even if you don't understand that now, you fucking will..”

“No!” Without thinking, Mary's hand shot out and grabbed Lizzy’s, yanking the girl back.

Lizzy stopped and turned to stare at her. She wrenched her hand out of Mary’s.

Mary needed words. She needed words, now, but all she had were thoughts, a tangled spiderweb of thoughts and feelings and wants strangling her words in their sleep. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“You will.” Lizzy looked grief stricken. “And you'll hate me for it, and I… I don't want to have to be around for that, Mary. Mary. Mary, I'm—I’m older than you! You're so young!” Her voice broke, but she kept going, now barely whispering. “You're brand-new to college, and I was your first roommate, and I.“

Mary felt all those emotions roiling in her, choking her. She clenched her fist, trying to control herself.

“I preyed on you, Mary, because I was lonely, because I was willing to take your innocence just so I could have someone else understand, and I lied to myself and I lied to you and I ruined you and—and listen, when you're older—”

And Mary snapped.

“Lizzy, how young do you think I am?”

Lizzy’s wild, unstoppable torrent of words crashed on the rocks into nothing. Lizzy blinked.

“I'm twenty-one, Lizzy!” That rosebush Mary had swallowed was burning inside her. “I turn twenty-two in five months!”

Lizzy blinked again. She licked her lips, visibly trying to get a sound out.

“what”

Mary flicked a strand of wet hair out of her eyes, glaring. “I started college late.”

“But. But you're a freshman.”

“I am not! Why do people keep saying that? I took two years of community college before I transferred, because Hope's Hill is freaking expensive and it's really hard to get financial aid when you have rich parents!”

Lizzy's eyes were as wide as saucers. “Wait, but that would make you...”

“I took the GED a year late. My parents didn't even want to pay for me to come here, 'cause no matter what I do, they still treat me like a stupid, naive little child. But you're the—!”

Mary bit the words off hard. She took a deep breath. She was getting too angry. She wasn't supposed to be angry. She was supposed to be fixing this. She was supposed to be...

She looked at Lizzy. The apisae’s eyes were still wide. Her cheeks were bright red. Her lips were drawn into a long, thin line. She took a step back.

Before Mary could think of what to do, the beegirl turned and bolted out the back door, disappearing into the wall of water.

~ ~ ~ ~

Lizzy didn't make it far. Her legs felt like they weren't her own. Everything inside her felt like it belonged to someone else right now. It was pitch-black out here. She found a bench next to a broken, sputtering lantern and sat down, bringing her knees up to cover her face.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and clutched them tightly. The rain was so heavy it felt like she was going to be submerged. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe the waters would form a river. Maybe the river would carry her somewhere where she wasn't so… gosh, she was such an idiot.

The hammering of the raindrops suddenly dropped away. They stopped striking her face, but strangely, the roar of the storm around her didn't lessen.

Lizzy looked up.

The shadowy shape of Mary stood above her. The silhouette of an umbrella had appeared above their heads.

“H-Hi, Mary.”

I treated her like a child. I basically called her a child. She must think I’m an asshole. Or a moron, or both. I'm so stupid. I'm so, so stupid.

“Hi.” Mary gestured. “Can I, um...?”

Lizzy hesitated, then scooted a little. Mary sat down next to her on the sopping-wet bench.

“I'm, um.” Mary took a deep breath. She leaned against Lizzy a little, and Lizzy realized that she’d come out here with basically no light to guide her. The mothgirl cleared her throat. “What the heck are you doing out here without an umbrella, you dummy?”

Lizzy let out a laugh. She couldn't help it. “I'm. I dunno.”

She felt Mary nuzzling into her neck. Mary’s body was trembling. It was basically pitch black out.

Nobody was around. Nobody could possibly see or hear them here.

Lizzy's hand moved slowly, haltingly, waiting to be stopped. Mary didn't stop her. Lizzy's arm wrapped around Mary's waist. Mary moved in closer.

“I'm. New to a lot of this.” Mary's voice was right in her ear, to be sure Lizzy could hear. Lizzy shivered. “I don't know if I'm—if I'm, you know—a homosexual. But I like you. Like. I like you a lot.”

Lizzy's eyes flitted to what lay carefully cradled in Mary's lap beneath the umbrella. “You got me a cactus.”

“It's a peanut cactus.”

“It has a pretty flower.”

“It wasn’t flowering when I bought it, but the, um—the florist was a dryad, so she...” Lizzy could feel Mary's cheeks getting hot. “I said I wanted a flower.”

Lizzy giggled.

She sat there a moment. Then she pulled back and looked at Mary, trying to get her heart to stop fluttering. She needed to say this now, or she never would.

“I think,” Lizzy said quietly, “that you're the… you’re the prettiest girl I've literally ever met. You're sweet, and thoughtful, and so smart, and… and you're really funny! Like, in a kind of quiet way, and I feel like it's easy to miss, but you're so funny. And you make.”

Mary's cheeks were so red. Lizzy wanted them redder. She needed this, needed more, and she pressed in close, heart pounding.

“You make the literally cutest ever face when you orgasm,” she whispered, staring into those beautiful dark violet eyes. “And that's—it's not a weird face at all. A-And I kind of have a crush on you. If that's okay. Sorry I got so stupid about it.”

Mary licked her lips. She looked at her peanut cactus—at Lizzy's peanut cactus—then back at Lizzy. “Well, I. I'm really flattered, Lizzy. But I'm also…” She shifted. “I mean, could we ever go out in public?”

Lizzy's heart froze solid. “I. I don't...”

“I mean.” Mary gave a little shrug. “People might mistake you for my daughter. It's kind of scandalous.”

Lizzy blinked.

“And don't you think you should be with someone closer to your age? I mean, I wouldn't want to be. Predatory.”

Lizzy stared. “Oh my gosh.”

“I'm also kind of worried you're just trying to s-seduce me to get my money.” Mary's voice remained demure, her face totally unmarked by any kind of emotion. “You know. Considering the considerable gap. I'll be in the grave soon enough.”

“You are a bitch.”

“You'll understand when you're older.”

“Oh my God!”

Mary giggled. She licked her lips, then leaned in—and down—to press them against Lizzy's cheek in a small, shy kiss.

Lizzy's brain fizzled as she felt Mary's lips smack against her skin.

She looked up at Mary. Mary smiled down at her, her face red, her wings fluttering shyly behind her.

Lizzy's wings were fluttering, too. Her breaths came in shallow.

She leaned forward. Mary leaned forward.

Lizzy sank into Mary's body as their lips met in a kiss that simmered with hunger. Mary's long tongue slipped into Lizzy's mouth. Mary's moans filled Lizzy's head. Lizzy moaned back, clutching at the mothgirl. Everything inside her felt honeyed and sweet and burning hot.

Mary pulled back. Their lips separated with a wet pop. Lizzy blinked up at her blearily, her world pink with thoughtless pleasure. Raindrops spilled down Mary's cheeks, dripped from her wet cobweb hair, glistened in the faint, distant lights.

“We should. Get back.” Mary smiled weakly. “The cactus is gonna get rained on.”

Lizzy smiled, feeling moths fluttering in her tummy. “Sure. L-Let's. Head back to the dorm.“

Mary didn't move. Neither did Lizzy. Lizzy snuggled in closer, head swimming with stupid happy glowy relief. Mary felt so warm. Her chin settled on Lizzy's shoulder, and Lizzy felt so… protected. She never wanted to leave.

Neither did Mary, though. And the cactus was getting rained on.

With a miserable sigh, Lizzy rose to her feet. Mary quickly followed to ensure the umbrella kept Lizzy covered. Lizzy was already drenched, but she liked having Mary close to her, and she liked having an excuse to lean close to Mary, to feel Mary's warm body above hers. One of Mary’s arms cradled the cactus, and the other draped over Lizzy, a hand tentatively pressed against Lizzy’s waist.

“So, you, like…” Lizzy giggled. “You seriously got me a cactus?”

Mary flushed. “I wanted it to be something permanent! And—and flowers felt too, um.”

“Romantic~?” Lizzy grinned up at her, unable to keep the playful lilt out of her voice.

“Well, yes. One of the professors might see it and get the wrong idea about us.”

Lizzy smirked and, feeling daring, reached up and interlaced her fingers with the fingers of the hand holding the umbrella. “Hey, um. When we get back.“

“Uh-huh?”

“You.” She licked her lips. “You wanna go flying together?”