"Raven…"
"But for some reason," Raven continued, her eyes never leaving Annabelle's, "being with you makes me better. Calmer. I don't know why, but you make me want to try to be… not perfect, because that's never going to happen, but maybe just a little bit less of a disaster. And my music…" She swallowed hard. "You gave me my music back, Annabelle. I haven't been able to write in months, and then you showed up at my door with your ridiculous biscuits and your dinosaur pajamas and suddenly I could write again."
Annabelle let out a watery laugh. "The pajamas were very practical."
"They were hideous," Raven said, but she was almost smiling now, that crooked half-smile that made Annabelle's stomach flip. "But also somehow perfect."
The word hung between them.Perfect.
"I'm terrified," Raven said quietly. "I'm absolutely terrified because I have no idea why someone like you would want someone like me. You're sunshine and optimism and everything good in the world, and I'm…I'm just not."
"I don't want sunshine," Annabelle said. "I am sunshine. I want the storm. I want the thunder and the lightning and the rain. I want someone who challenges me and argues with me and tells me when I'm being too much."
"You're never too much."
"See, that's exactly what I mean." Annabelle managed a shaky smile. "You say things like that and I completely fall apart."
Raven's expression softened. Her thumbs were still tracing gentle patterns on Annabelle's cheeks, and Annabelle was fairly certain she was never going to breathe normally again.
"There's more," Raven said, and now she was the one who sounded terrified. "I need to…Christ, this is hard." She took a deep breath. "I think I might be in love with you."
The world stopped.
Just… stopped.
Annabelle's brain short-circuited somewhere betweenthinkandlove, and all she could do was stare at Raven with what was probably a completely ridiculous expression on her face.
"You… what?"
"Ithink," Raven emphasized, and there was the vulnerability again, raw and painful and beautiful. "I'm not…I've never been good at this. At feelings and words and all the things you're supposed to say. But I know that when I'm with you, I feel like maybe I'm not completely broken. And when I'm not with you, everything feels wrong. So that's probably, I mean, that might be… I think it could be…"
"Love," Annabelle whispered.
"Yeah." Raven's hands were trembling against Annabelle's face. "Maybe. Probably. Yes."
Annabelle's heart was doing something strange in her chest.
But she didn't push. Didn't throw herself at Raven or declare her undying devotion or do any of the things she desperately wanted to do. Because this was too important. This was too fragile.
"So," she said carefully, "what are we going to do?"
Raven closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. When she spoke, her voice was steady. Determined.
"I can't move here permanently," she said. "I need my music. I need to tour and record and do all the things that make me who I am. But I want to be here when I'm not. I want this to be home. I wantyouto be home."
Annabelle's breath caught.
"I want to try," Raven continued. "If you still want me. I know it's not the fairytale ending you've been looking for. I know long-distance is hard and messy and complicated, and I can't promise it'll be perfect because nothing about me is perfect…"
"Imperfect is fine with me," Annabelle said.
"…but I can promise that I'll try. That I won't run. That I'll…" Raven stopped as Annabelle's words registered. "Wait, what?"
"Imperfect is fine with me." Annabelle was smiling now, really smiling, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep in her chest. "I don't need perfect, Raven. I just need you."
She was already moving, already stepping into Raven's space, already opening her arms. And Raven, wonderful, difficult, complicated Raven, met her halfway.
The kiss was soft and desperate and full of promise. Annabelle's hands clasped Raven's shirt, pulling her closer, and Raven's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her like she was something precious.
