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"Sorry this isn't much of a date night," Xid said, dumping a rucksack's worth of mail onto the bed between them.
Luna sat cross-legged, hands poised on her knees and ready to spring into action. One of Xid's old tour shirts hung loose on her frame; Xid had carefully cut slits in the back for her wings months ago, and now it was her absolute favorite thing to sleep in. Even after multiple washes, traces of Xid remained embedded in the cotton—citrus shampoo, laundry soap, pyrotechnic smoke—and Luna had gotten very good at not nibbling holes in it like some sort of overgrown larva with more limbs than impulse control.
When the avalanche of envelopes came to a stop, she sprang.
"Are you kidding?" Two hands seized several letters spilling down the side of the hefty pile while the other pair smoothed out the duvet in front of her. "This is great. Quality time plus market research plus seeing firsthand how much people love your work? It's literally perfect."
"You just love that fan mail is sortable," Xid said, settling in on her side of the pile. Her blue hair was still damp, darkening the tank top straps at her shower-pink shoulders, and Luna caught herself staring at the soft line of her collarbone before remembering to laugh.
"Okay, fine, the sorting is deeply satisfying on a organizational level. But it's also—" She gestured around them, taking in the musical accoutrements and the quiet skittering coming from the static spiderling terrarium. "It's an excuse to be here. Which is where I want to be. So. Yes. I love it."
"Yeah?" Xid's smile quirked into a curve that made Luna's wings flutter. "Me too."
Luna hid her too-big smile behind the thickest letter in her grasp, which bore a mainland postmark, and let her hands fall into the rhythm of opening, skimming, sorting into batches between them on the covers.
The bed was absurd, really. Monarch-sized, heaped with pillows in a rainbow of jewel tones, the kind of mattress that probably cost more than the security deposit on Luna's shopfront when she'd first arrived in Rafta. Terrifyingly comfortable the first time Luna had spent the night, agonizing over whether Xid actually wanted her to stay or was just being polite, whether she should offer to leave, right up until the weight of sleep closed her eyes. Now it felt like the most natural place in the world to spend an evening.
Recognizable categories of mail began forming into piles of their own: pure appreciation, questions, and requests. Letters to "Xidriel" came in varied envelopes from all over, wildly different sizes and materials. The ones addressed to "Xid" were most often Raftan, identifiable by the grainy parchment from the local mill, sometimes with little drawings on the outside. Younger fans responded to her authentic indie work, older fans yearned for more of the prepackaged Xidriel sound. Mainlanders tended to write longer letters, more effusive and meandering. Locals trended brief but enthusiastic.
"Oh, here's a good one," Xid said, reading aloud. "'I heard you perform at the guild last week and bought your album the next day. Thank you for sharing your music!'" She set it off to one side, the start of a tiny pile; the ones she saved to re-read later. "That's the stuff. Makes wading through the rants and the 'constructive criticism' bearable."
Luna hummed agreement, but her brain was already working. Local performance leading to album purchase. Word of mouth working, guild shows building audience, should emphasize more live performances in next promotional push—
"Lost you," Xid said lightly.
"What?" Luna glanced up and found Xid looking at her, head cocked.
"Your antennae." Xid wiggled her fingers in imitation. "Twitching like little data-collection sensors. Very cute. Very 'I'm building a spreadsheet in my head.'"
Luna's antennae—fuzzy and full in a way that had taken her years to appreciate—stilled. "They don't—do I really do that? I don't do that!"
"Every time. It's how I know you've gone from reading mail to brainstorming a marketing campaign."
"I can't help it," Luna admitted, somewhat sheepish. Her lower arms kept moving, unconsciously organizing the positive pile by postmark date. "Your fans are basically giving me free market research. My brain just... goes."
"I know." Xid leaned over and kissed her temple. "Just don't forget to actually be here too, okay?"
Luna turned into the kiss, letting her forehead rest against Xid's shoulder for a moment, antennae curled up with bliss. "Here," she murmured. "I'm here. Promise."
"I'll hold you to that," Xid said softly, and they went back to sorting.
For a while, Luna succeeded. She read without over analyzing, sorted without strategizing, simply existed in the comfortable quiet of Xid's apartment with mail strewn across expensive sheets. Skimmed a letter about a father and daughter bonding over Xid's music without calculating family-market appeal. Xid hummed under her breath, a melody she'd been working on for the last week or so that Luna couldn't help but tap her toes to.
She smiled. She was doing well. Top marks in "being present."
And then she opened the next envelope.
Cramped and angry handwriting filled the page, black ink pressed hard enough to nearly tear through the paper in places. Luna's antennae flattened as she read.
Taking a 'sabbatical'? More like running away because you can't hack it in the real music industry. Your indie garbage is what happens when someone with no actual talent tries to pretend they're an artist. You were barely passable as a pop star, and now you're not even that. Maybe if you had any real skill you wouldn't need to hide out in some backwater—
Heat flooded Luna's face, then her chest, spreading outward until her wings trembled with it, snapping open in a threat display she hadn't made since telling her parents she was starting her own marketing agency at the edge of the world. Her breath came short and sharp through her nose, the words blurred into venom, and she distantly registered her lower hands reaching up to join the others in gripping the page, one at each corner.
She tore.
Once. Twice. Quarters became eighths became confetti. Larger scraps were fed to her forehands, which kept ripping, smaller and smaller, methodical and furious, until nothing remained but paper snow drifting to the duvet around her knees.
Luna looked up to find Xid watching her, letter dangling from one hand, eyebrows raised.
"Very efficient shredding."
"Sorry," Luna said, though she wasn't. Not even a little. "That was—"
"Badass?" Scooting closer, Xid caught one of Luna's quaking hands. "I mean, you can't be thin-skinned in the spotlight, but... I won't lie, I could do with a bit less ugliness."
Luna's free hands rubbed her arms. "You shouldn't have to deal with things like that. You shouldn't have to be used to it! You chose to step away from an industry that was—that wasn't letting you do anything authentic. And that's really brave, actually! And you're writing incredible music here, and—" She caught herself getting worked up again. "Sorry. I just… You deserve better."
"Yeah?" The mattress dipped under Xid's weight as she shuffled closer on her knees, smile crinkling her eyes. "Maybe that's where you come in."
The blush hit Luna like wildfire, instant and total. "I—you—that's not what I—"
But Xid was obviously delighted by Luna's frazzled response, and that only made it worse. Luna tried to find words, turned up nothing, and ended up making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeak.
Xid laughed too, warm and genuine, and the sound of it broke something loose in Luna's chest. She'd never get tired of this, of making her laugh, of being close enough to catch the exact moment fond amusement softened into pure affection. Close enough to notice the tiny freckle under her collarbone. The constellation of piercings up her right ear. The way her lip ring shifted when she bit her lower lip, which she was doing right now.
"You're so easy to fluster," Xid said, still grinning. She reached out and tucked a strand of Luna's hair back, fingers lingering at her jaw, and leaned in.
Her mouth, tender and sure. Her hand cradling Luna's jaw, the callused pad of her thumb stroking her cheek. The other hand still holding Luna's, squeezing gently before releasing—and then both of Xid's hands were free, one sliding into Luna's hair, the other settling at her waist, and Luna's hands couldn't decide where to go, settling and resettling: upper pair framing Xid's face, lower pair at her hips, then waist, then—
Then Xid made a small approving sound and Luna's brain shorted out entirely.
She was drowning in sensation. Xid's tongue slid against hers, and Luna couldn't think, could only feel. Smooth skin under her palms, the barest hint of fine human hairs, and the warmth, oh, the warmth of her. Metal tang when the piercing rolled, cool contrast to Xid's mouth. Luna's antennae shot upright before falling limp against her hair, overwhelmed and blissed out and desperately trying to memorize every detail of this precise moment.
When they parted, Luna kept her eyes closed for an extra breath, hovering in the space they'd created, snug and wonderful and entirely theirs.
Though her brain wouldn't quite let her.
"So," Xid murmured, and Luna felt the words against her lips. "Better than hate mail?"
Luna's laugh came out breathless, thumbs brushing over Xid's shoulders, her knees—wherever they could find skin, unable to fully let go. "Significantly better."
"Good," Xid said softly, and kissed her once more, brief and sweet, before settling back. Her smile faded as she searched Luna's face. "You're still tense."
Luna tried for a laugh, waving it off. "I'm always tense. It's kind of my default state."
"Luna. Talk to me. What's going on in there?"
"Nothing. I—" She deflated. "I don't want to ruin the mood. We were having such a nice moment, and I'm being silly."
"Hey, you're not ruining anything." Xid squeezed her hand. "I want you to be real with me. Okay? Always. Tell me what's bugging you."
Taking a shaky breath, Luna sighed and gestured vaguely at the scatted paper scraps crumpled beneath them. "That letter. It mentioned… Well, I've been seeing rumors crop up online, and in the magazines. Speculation about where Xidriel disappeared to, and—" The duvet wrinkled in her grasp. "Do you ever worry about how long this lasts? Before people connect the dots?"
"Think they're already starting to." Xid drew one knee up to her chest and rested her chin there. Her bangs fell over one eye, and she blew them away again before offering a one-shouldered shrug. "I knew it couldn't stay secret forever. Blue hair and piercings can only do so much."
"Well…" Luna allowed herself a slight, sly smile as Xid's utter lack of concern washed over her. "To be fair, 'Xid' isn't exactly a deep cover name."
Xid flopped backward onto the bed with a snort. "Hey, cut me some slack. I'm a musician, not a spy." She propped herself up on her elbows, eyes dancing. "Honestly, I'm shocked it worked as long as it did."
"I certainly didn't put it together until you told me," Luna admitted. "And even then, it was kind of hard to believe."
Xid blinked hard. "Woah, woah, wait—you didn't believe me?"
"Well, I mean, yes, obviously I believed you, but—" Luna gestured helplessly. "It seemed impossible! Like, what are the odds? I'm on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere and the actual Xidriel just happens to be playing rock bard at the Heroes' Guild? No way. I figured you were a major Xidriel fan. You know, like you loved her music so much it inspired your stage name. That seemed way more plausible than you actually being her!"
"My own girlfriend thought I was a tribute act." Xid threw her head back and laughed, joyful and incredulous. "That is—oh, that's so perfect. And here I thought these dang cheekbones and all the raw star power would give me away for sure," she added, striking a pose with her chin held in the crook of her thumb and forefinger for all of two seconds before they both collapsed into giggles again.
The laughter tumbled them both down onto their sides, facing each other across a sea of scattered mail. Luna tucked one hand under her cheek, the rest brushing envelopes out of the way until coming to rest half-curled between them. Xid mirrored her, reaching out until her fingers combed through the fluff on the back of Luna's hand.
"I was so paranoid about someone figuring it out," Xid said, shaking her head. "Didn't plan for the scenario where I tell someone and they think I'm full of it."
Luna's gaze shifted, traveled the ceiling as she considered. "I think part of it was you were so at ease. You didn't look like you were in disguise, or a costume. You were so real, so you, I just… couldn't imagine you any other way. Even when you sang Xidriel covers and sounded just like her." She chuckled, eyes darting away. "Well, they weren't covers, it turns out, but you know what I mean."
Xid was quiet for a beat, fingers tapping an idle rhythm on Luna's hand. "That's... pretty much the dream, actually." She let out a breath that was almost a laugh, smile crooked. "The tabloids see current me and wonder if I'm having some kind of extended breakdown."
Pushing up onto one elbow, she gestured at the mail around them, between them. "Half these letters are people begging me to go back to making bubble-gum pop." Making her point, she plucked one up at random and skimmed the contents. "'Sweet Summer Haze changed my life. I know that sounds dramatic but it's true. I play it when I'm sad, when I'm happy, when I need to feel like myself again. Your voice in that song is pure magic. Please make more music, I need more Xidriel.'" She let it drop to the duvet. "I'm glad those songs mean something to people, but most of them weren't even me. It was a team of writers churning out hits."
Oh no.
Luna had written a letter like that, once. Granted, about a different song, but—she cringed just thinking about it. The teenage earnestness. The embarrassing intensity of it. But she could just… not say anything, right? She could simply—
Xid's eyes narrowed with interest, lips curving. "What's that face about?"
"What face?" All of Luna's arms converged to wrap around her head. "I don't have a face."
"Then what have I been kissing all this time?" Xid's voice was closer now, amused. "What's up? What did I say?"
Still cocooned in her own arms, curled up in a ball, Luna shook her head mutely.
"Okay, you don't have to fess up." Xid tugged gently at her wrists. "But at least let me see you."
Luna peeked through her fingers and Xid was right there, grinning, clearly enjoying her suffering. "It's embarrassing."
"I gathered that from the full-body flinch." Xid's smile softened. "But you can tell me embarrassing things, sweetheart. That's kind of the deal."
After a few more moments of agonizing, it came out in a rush. "I wrote you a letter, okay? When I was a kid. About one of your songs and how much I loved it and how much I loved—" She broke off into a squeak and buried her face again.
Xid's eyes lit up. "You wrote me fan mail?"
Luna nodded.
"And you weren't going to tell me?"
"I never sent it," Luna muttered into her palms. "So it doesn't count. I was too embarrassed, even back then."
"That's adorable."
"It's mortifying."
"Hey." Xid's voice softened, and she pried Luna's hands away from her face. "I'm not gonna tease you about it. Well, only a little. Promise. But I'm really curious about what you wrote."
Luna's antennae relaxed their curl. "Why?"
"Because you're important to me now," Xid said, pressing closer. "And teenage you was... you know, you. So yeah. I want to know what you were thinking."
Luna's wings fluttered once, then settled. She forced herself meet Xid's eyes and looked at her for a long moment. Totally open, genuine, waiting.
"Okay," she said finally. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. "There was this song. 'Between the Lines.' Do you remember it? It wasn't, um, one of the big singles, so I don't know if…"
"Yeah," Xid said, something careful in her voice. "I remember."
"Right. Of course you do." Luna nudged her glasses up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Well, I wrote you a three-page analysis of it. Broke down every lyric, every metaphor—probably way over-interpreted half of it." A nervous chuckle slipped out. "But it was about being seen. Not just noticed or looked at, but actually seen." Her antennae drooped. "I was fourteen and I felt totally invisible in my family, and I, um, may have poured my entire soul into that letter."
Xid made a sound—half laugh, half something wetter. She pressed the heel of her hand to her eye. "That song was—" She stopped, collected herself. "I fought so hard to keep it on the album. The label wanted to cut it. Said it was too personal, not radio-friendly."
Before she'd fully decided to, Luna was reaching, grabbing Xid's shoulders, her arms, pulling herself close until there was no space between them. She wrapped around her, every limb finding purchase, holding tight like she could make up for every time no one had held teenage Xid and told her she mattered underneath the polished, produced persona.
Xid's breath hitched once, then steadied. Her arms wrapped around Luna in turn.
"Sorry," she said finally, wiping at her eyes with another watery laugh. "Got a little choked up there."
"Don't apologize." Luna's hands spurred into motion; rubbing, kneading, soothing. "That song meant everything to me. I can only imagine what it meant to you."
"A lot." Xid smiled, crooked but genuine, and cradled the back of Luna's head, drawing her in until their foreheads met.
They stayed like that, breathing together, until the last of the tension eased from Xid's shoulders. She scrubbed her face with one hand, laughed at herself softly, then reached up and straightened Luna's glasses, which had gone askew during the embrace. Luna nearly vibrated with the effort of keeping still, overwhelmed with the closeness of her, not wanting to rush whatever this moment needed to be.
Eventually Xid shifted, pulling back a fraction. Her eyes were clearer now, mild redness fading. She looked at Luna for a long moment, and whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it.
"So," she said, smile returning. "This letter of yours. Do you remember what you wrote? Or is it all a hormonal blur?"
Luna groaned. "Xid."
"You wrote me three pages, Luna. I need details. Did you rank the metaphors? Rate my lyrical choices out of ten?" Her smile grew a devious dimple. "You're so organized, I bet you never threw it out. It's probably in a labeled folder somewhere. Alphabetized."
"It's not alphabetized," Luna grumbled.
The look on Xid's face was worth capturing in a photoglyph. Shock. Recognition. Pure, unbridled joy.
"No," Luna said immediately. "No, I didn't mean—"
"So you do have it."
"...Maybe."
"Show me."
"Absolutely not."
"I bet it's super cute and sweet and—"
"Never!"
Xid moved fast but landed soft, hands closing gently around Luna's primary wrists, body weight carefully redistributed, knees shifting to avoid her wings, which had flared instinctively at the sudden movement. It was the kind of careful Luna had learned to recognize: an awareness of her thinner stuff, her fragile architecture, threaded throughout even in play. Even as Xid pinned her wrists to the bed above her head with a grin.
"Show me."
Flat on her back, Luna narrowed her eyes. She glanced down—Xid's tank top had ridden up, exposing a strip of stomach—then back up to her girlfriend's face. A slow smile spread across her own.
"No," Xid warned. "Luna. Don't you da—"
But Luna's hands had already darted up to find Xid's ribs, tickling mercilessly. Xid yelped and collapsed sideways, jackknifed with laughter, her stomach folding as she tried to curl away and escape. The soft flesh of her belly yielded under Luna's fingers, body moving without performance, utterly herself—and Luna followed her anyway with the cheerful single-mindedness of a moth with eighty-five siblings and hard-won knowledge that in any physical altercation, ruthlessness was key.
"That's—" Xid gasped between laughs "—completely—unfair—"
"You started it!"
The careful organization of the mail evaporated. A pillow departed the bed. Xid attempted a counteroffensive—and her guitarist's fingers were genuinely formidable, calluses targeting every sensitive spot along Luna's torso with the same precision and muscle memory that found frets in a dim backstage. But Luna possessed four hands and zero mercy, and the math simply wasn't on Xid's side.
"Four hands," she complained into Luna's neck fluff, blowing when a few strands caught between her lips. "Twice as much tickling as I can dish out on my best day."
"You're the one who tried to pin me." Luna splayed out on top of Xid, stomach aching, wings twitching with leftover jolts of energy.
"I was trying to be romantic and commanding."
"You were trying to make me dig out an embarrassing artifact from my childhood!"
"Can you blame me?" Xid lifted her head, her hair mussed, eyes warm. "My girlfriend wrote me fan mail about my one real song in an album of mass-produced pop. That's incredibly cute."
"It was a very enthusiastic letter," Luna confessed. "I may have used the phrase 'you're the most amazing person in the world' at least three times."
Xid kissed her then, slow and sweet, and Luna made a soft sound against her mouth. Envelopes crinkled beneath them, and she couldn't bring herself to care.
When they finally broke apart, Xid was smiling. "I'm definitely finding that letter someday."
"Over my dead body."
"I know where you live. I'll search your apartment."
"I'll burn it first."
"You wouldn't." Xid's eyes were dancing. "You'd feel guilty about destroying a historical document. Proof of your excellent taste in musicians." Xid kissed her again, noses brushing. "I'm gonna find it."
"You're terrible."
"You love me."
And that was true. Luna did love her. This version of her. The real one, the one who'd been brave enough to walk away from everything safe and certain to chase something genuine. The one who kept strange bugs in terrariums and stayed up too late working on chord progressions that would never appear on a chart-topping single—and didn't care.
The one currently threatening to ransack her apartment for decade-old fan mail.
"Yeah," Luna said, breath ghosting over her hair. "I really, really do."
They settled back into comfortable closeness, Xid's head tucked under Luna's chin, wings folding carefully behind her. Outside, Rafta hummed with its usual evening noise; the world going about its business.
Somewhere out there, though, people were speculating about Xidriel: where she'd gone, what she was running from, whether the rock bard in Rafta was really their idol in disguise. Writing letters asking for the old songs back. Connecting dots.
Xid wasn't hiding. She was right here, real and breathing, her thumb tracing an absent refrain against Luna's palm.
Being.