It's Not What It Looks Like

ᴇɪɢʜᴛ | ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.

She knew it back when she was only a little girl, always offering to play the part of the dad during make-believe games. She'd take on a new name, a boy's name, and she'd hold the hand of her imaginary wife as much as she'd like.

Simple as that.

The afternoon when Emilia picked out her own name, they were laying on Silena's bed, shoulders touching. Silena's side and cheeks both burned- but as long as she refused to put a name to the feeling, she could stay in that position for as long as she wanted.

Nothing easier.

As the two of them went through pages full of baby names, she wondered briefly if her birth parents paid that much mind to the meaning of her name. If perhaps her mom watched the moon every night while her lover was away, a hand over her belly. Probably not. Even as a child, Silena was much too practical to have been named with such romantical intentions. It is much more likely that they simply liked the sound.

What does one do, when their name is devoid of meaning? Give it one themselves, maybe.

Emilia: to strive or excel.

Silena: a huge pining fool.

At seven in the morning on that particular January day, not putting a name to the feeling was harder than ever. It shouldn't have been, really. Mena is an awful sleep tosser, and somehow throughout the night she ended up with almost all of her body draped over Silena's. Not even in a cute way, but rather like she was unconsciously trying to suffocate her to death. There was also nothing attractive about the way she had managed to throw all the pillows onto the floor. Nor was there anything sweet about the way she grabbed the comforter all for her own. Still, Silena found herself staring at the ceiling in panic.

She isn't usually in much of a hurry to get up in the mornings, but she had to get out of there, pronto.

Guided only by the faint warm light above the stove, Silena tentatively goes through the motions of preparing a morning coffee. Just like her roommate, the sun is late to raise. It usually is on cold, gloomy days such as this one. Even if it did show, it'd be far too well hidden by the white clouds for anyone to notice.

Still too sleepy to properly function, Silena's hand slips, and an ungodly amount of sugar spills into Mena's designated mug.

Silena looks at it, very sadly.

"Fuck," she finally concludes. For a single, miserable second, she truly thinks of making a new one. Then she remembers who the beverage is for, and figures that it still might actually work.

When she climbs back to the room, two steaming mugs held in her hands, she finds Mena jumping into her black jeans.

Like, literally hopping around.

She looks up, as awake as a morning bird, and beams.

"Morning gorgeous," she greets. "How did you sleep?"

"It was the wildest night of my life," Silena deadpans.

Mena laughs, but at least she had the decency to make the bed once she got up.

"I get that a lot. A freak in the sheets, right?"

She winks, and Silena decides that she can't deal with whatever this is right now. With a motion that is far more disgruntled than it is hospitable, she thrusts one of the coffee mugs in Mena's direction.