ramona’s whole life she’d been straight. only dated men—gideon for example—so why was she questioning her whole sexuality for a girl? not just any girl, her bestfriend.

you’d came up to toronto from america to visit ramona and her new living location! the two of you were two peas in a pod, seen eachother through your ups and downs: at your lowest and best: and nothing changed.

but ramona feared she was changing.

it was 1:42am, snow was piling up outside and drinks were flowing inside. ramona’s apartment was quaint and full of stuff that was so remotely her—it felt like you were right at home.

your head tipped back after she’d made one of her inevitable blunt jokes, the corners of your eyes crinkled and soft dimples forming at the centres of your cheeks; smile evident. the way your features caught in the dim lighting from her lamps and candles was truly mesmerising, alongside the way your eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth—

—she knew she was definitely done for.

yet, it didn’t feel like a bad thing. like this was how it was supposed to be, just you and her in the warmth of her apartment, huddled together.

picking up on ramona’s change in mood (obviously, you knew her too well), you tilted your head, and put down your cup. “what’s the matter, blue?”

blue. that stupid nickname you gave her as it was the first colour she’d ever dyed her hair: and you did it for her.

ramona shook her head, and shuffled closer to you on her couch, albeit hesitantly. she put her drink down, and came closer. this proximity wasn’t new, but the newfound charged sensation between you two suddenly was. “just… curious.”