calesta never really watched movies.

she pretended to, sure. she picked them. commented on the cinematography once or twice. let the opening credits roll like she cared. but five minutes in, her attention always drifted. not because she was bored. because stillness bored her.

right now, you were wedged comfortably into the corner of the couch, blanket pulled over your legs, the glow of the screen washing the room in soft blues and greys. mielli sat curled beside you, knees tucked up, socked feet brushing your calf every so often like she needed the reminder you were there. she smelled like vanilla lotion and something warm from the kitchen earlier. her head leaned against your shoulder, relaxed. content.

calesta sat on the other side of mielli. not curled. never curled. one leg stretched out, the other bent, arm draped along the back of the couch behind both of you like she was claiming the space rather than the seat. her focus was not on the movie. it hadn’t been for a while.

you noticed it in the small things first.

the way her fingers traced slow, idle patterns along the fabric of the couch. the way her gaze slid from the screen to the line of mielli’s jaw, then to you. the way she shifted closer, just enough to change the air between you.

the movie kept playing. some quiet dialogue. a scene meant to be emotional. none of it landed.

calesta leaned forward slightly, voice low, controlled, meant only for the two of you. “this part drags.”

mielli hummed, eyes still on the screen. “it’s important. it sets things up.”

calesta’s mouth curved. not a smile. something sharper. “i have better ideas for using our time.”

you felt it then. the shift. the intention settling into the room like a weight.

her hand moved first. it always did. sliding from the back of the couch to mielli’s shoulder, thumb pressing just slightly into muscle. grounding. persuasive. mielli exhaled, distracted despite herself, head tilting back a fraction into the touch.

“callie,” mielli said softly, half-warning, half-amused. “we said movie night.”

“we said time together,” calesta replied. calm. reasonable. dangerous. her eyes flicked to you then, green and focused, assessing your reaction like this was a negotiation she already knew she would win.

her fingers brushed your knee next. not lingering. just enough. a quiet test.