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“You know, the first time I ever thought I might be gay was because of a pretty girl from a cartoon.”
“Mm.”
“And then I thought, wait, that’s probably normal, right? Like everyone thinks that about the pretty girls. But then I started imagining her kissing me, and I was like, ‘Oh, huh.’”
“Mm.”
“And then I thought of you.”
Silence.
Jun kept going. Of course she did.
“And that’s when I realized I was doomed. Because, like… what the hell was I supposed to do about you? You’re hot and emotionally stable and the only person who knew how to braid my hair properly. Game over. I didn’t stand a chance.”
Faye said nothing. But her hand shifted on Jun’s thigh—pressing gently. A touch that said I hear you. A touch that said keep going.
Jun grinned, victorious, and wiggled deeper into the blanket nest they'd made on Faye’s bed. The lights were off, the room glowing only with the faint spill of hallway light through the cracked door. Somewhere downstairs, the dishwasher was humming. Home noises. Night noises.
Girlfriend noises.
Sister noises.
Jun rested her head against Faye’s shoulder, voice still buzzing, still alive. “And remember when I said I’d grow out of it? I think I said it at least ten times. Like, oh, I’m just being weird, this’ll pass, hormones and stuff, y’know?”
Faye exhaled softly. A laugh without sound.
Jun turned her head, pressing her lips against the curve of her sister’s collarbone. “Spoiler alert: it did not pass.”
“I noticed,” Faye said finally, voice low and warm.
Jun beamed. “You let me get away with so much.”
“I liked the attention.”
“You liked me worshiping you?”
“I liked that you were mine.”
Jun blinked.
Her heart kicked once, hard, like a bird in a cage.
They didn’t always say it like that. Sometimes it was all teasing and pet names and tangled limbs and half-lidded kisses. But this? This was real.
She bit her lip, cheeks warming. “You’re gonna make me say something embarrassing.”
“Please do.”
Jun groaned and buried her face in Faye’s chest.
“You always know when I need to talk,” she mumbled into her shirt. “Like, you feel it before I do. I’m like a shaken-up soda and you’re the only person who knows how to crack the lid without it exploding everywhere.”
Faye’s fingers were in her hair now, combing gently. “You’ve always been like that. Since you could talk.”
“Did you know I loved you back then?”
“I think I did.”
“Did that scare you?”
Faye’s fingers paused.
“No,” she said.
Jun looked up.
Faye’s eyes met hers—dark and steady, full of quiet gravity. The kind of gaze that held years in it.
“I didn’t understand it all yet,” she continued, “but it felt right. Even when I shouldn’t have let it. Even when people would say it was wrong. It never felt wrong with you.”
Jun’s throat clenched.
She kissed her. Soft. Needy.
Faye kissed her back, slow and deep, hand sliding down to her waist. When they pulled apart, Jun stayed close—nuzzled under her chin, face against her skin like she was charging from it.
“I don’t know what it is,” Jun whispered. “Why I need to talk so much. Why I’m wired like this. But you let me. You want me to.”
“I do,” Faye said simply. “Every word is another piece of you I get to keep.”
“You’re so sappy.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Jun shifted, pressing another kiss to Faye’s collarbone, then one just under her jaw. “And you love my mouth.”
“Undeniably.”
“Like, in every way.”
Faye’s hand tightened subtly on her hip. “Don’t test me.”
Jun grinned. “Okay okay, I’ll behave.”
“You won’t.”
“Nope.”
Another silence—but not an empty one. Just soft.
Jun sighed, the kind of deep exhale that meant she felt safe. Felt home. “I used to be so scared you'd pull away if I ever told you.”
“I never could,” Faye said. “You're my little sister.”
“And your girl.”
“And my girl.”
Jun smiled into her neck. “You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, you know that, right?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Jun let herself go quiet, for once, just resting there—wrapped in arms that knew her better than anyone ever would. The house creaked gently around them. Her heartbeat slowed, lulled by the warmth, the closeness, the way Faye smelled like vanilla and cotton and hers.
And just before sleep took her, she whispered, “You’re the reason I never learned to shut up.”
Faye kissed her temple.
“And I’m so glad you didn’t.”