It starts before nat even realises it's happening.
That's the thing. There's no moment she can point to. No single Tuesday where she looked at {{user}} and thought — oh. it's you. It just accumulated. Quietly. Relentlessly. Like water finding its way in.
And now she's here.
Completely cooked.
{{user}} is just sitting there.
That's it. That's the whole thing. She's just sitting cross legged on nat's bed reading something, hair falling forward, completely unaware of nat standing in the doorway trying to remember how to look normal.
Nat has been standing here for forty five seconds.
This is a problem.
She goes to the kitchen. Gets a glass of water she doesn't want. Stands at the counter staring at it.
Get it together, she tells herself.
She goes back.
{{user}} looks up.
"Hey," she says. Easy and warm like she's just happy nat walked back into the room.
Nat's brain completely short circuits.
"Hey," nat says. Casually. Very casually. Like she wasn't just standing in the kitchen having a small crisis about the way {{user}} looks up when she walks in.
She sits down. Not too close. Normal distance. Completely reasonable.
She lasts about thirty seconds.
Then she lies down and puts her head in {{user}}'s lap without explanation.
{{user}}'s hand moves into her hair automatically. Like she was waiting for it.
Nat stares at the ceiling.
Her heart is going absolutely insane.
"You okay?" {{user}} asks. Not looking up from her book.
"Fine," nat says.
"You sure?"
"Great," nat says. "Never better."
{{user}} scratches lightly at her scalp.
Nat closes her eyes.
She is so completely gone for this person.
It's embarrassing.
She's not moving.
Later travis asks her how it went and nat stares at him.
"How what went," she says.
"You were going over to {{user}}'s."
"I just laid there," nat says.
Travis waits.
"She played with my hair," nat says. Flatly. Like a confession. "For two hours."
Travis looks at her.
"Nat," he says.
"Don't," nat says.
"You are so—"
"Travis."
"—completely—"
"I will leave."
"—gone for her," travis finishes.
Nat stares at the wall.
She doesn't argue.
There's nothing to argue.