Yes but its complicated

Chapter 5 - Decision at Dawn

Warm rays of dusk slipped through the slits of the metal blinds, painting stripes of light and shadow across Natalie’s exhausted body. The shifting orange and black pattern made her look like she was wearing a striped-prisoner’s uniform.

When she opened her eyes, the beautiful twilight almost blinded her. Tired, dehydrated, and still dazed, she rolled over and tried to focus. Then it hit her — everything that had happened in the last four hours.

She snatched the blanket and pulled it over her bare skin. Strangely, it didn’t touch her directly; something soft lay between the fabric and her body. Confused, she lifted the edge.

Not only was she partially dressed — she was also clean.

What the hell had happened? How long had she been out this time?

The room was almost completely silent. Only the occasional rattle of the metal blinds in the wind, the low static hum of the fridge, the soft rustle of the blanket against the couch, and… somewhere, the muffled sound of splashing water.

Dust motes drifted lazily in the golden light. Her head throbbed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

Time to get up. Get water. Whatever confusion and disorientation still clung to her couldn’t hold her prisoner any longer.

Her first steps were wobbly. A deep, satisfying ache pulsed warmly between her legs — the pleasant aftermath. She limped to the kitchen counter, draped her arms over it and let out a long sigh. At least her mind was slowly recovering.

After closing her eyes for a solid minute, she finally registered that the fourth sound — the water — had stopped. It was replaced by cheerful humming and soft whistling.

A door opened. Wet footsteps. A squeak. Then rubbery Crocs padding closer.

Natalie lifted her gaze.

Black, damp hair peeked out from under a red towel. Half her face caught the dying light — bare, unmade-up, somehow even more striking like this. Clean shoulders glowing softly in the dusk. Another red towel wrapped around her body, barely containing a full chest. Long legs, knees highlighted by the warm glow, black-painted toenails peeking out from the Crocs.

For almost twenty seconds Samantha let herself be looked at. She knew she was being devoured by Natalie’s eyes and — quietly — enjoyed it. But she also noticed the rest: Natalie’s chest rising and falling too fast, the glassy, vacant stare, the way her arms trembled as they clung to the counter.

Without a word Samantha turned to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and walked over.

She pressed the cold plastic gently under Natalie’s chin and tilted it upward.

Natalie’s eyes fluttered closed at the soothing chill against her overheated skin.

When she opened them again, Samantha was very close — close enough that Natalie could see the tiny flecks of gold in her irises. A soft *pshh* as the cap came off.

Samantha hooked a thumb on Natalie’s lower lip, pulling it down, then slid the neck of the bottle past her teeth.

She didn’t break eye contact for a single second while Natalie drank greedily. Six seconds later the bottle was empty.

The relief was almost orgasmic. Natalie felt alive again.

She waited for the “good girl”, the mocking praise, anything — but nothing came. Just two women staring into each other, the silence thick and electric.

Samantha took the bottle back and set it on the counter.

“We need to talk,” she said, voice unusually soft.

Natalie nodded mutely and followed her to the couch.

This time it was Samantha’s turn to look.

Natalie’s oversized pink sleepshirt — the one with the little angel wings print — looked ridiculously cute on her. It covered most of her, but the way she sat, legs tucked under, let the hem ride up just enough to be distracting.

Natalie noticed the stare and shrank a little. She loved being seen by Samantha… but right now the intensity felt overwhelming. Everything still felt too sudden, too raw.

“So… you went through my stuff and dressed me?” Natalie asked quietly.

Samantha glanced around the room as if genuinely searching for someone else, then locked eyes again.

“Do you see anyone else here?”

Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “Stupid question.”

“And yes. I showered you,” Samantha added matter-of-factly.

Natalie’s cheeks flared red.

“You’re surprisingly heavy, by the way,” Samantha said with a tiny smirk. “Not easy to carry.”

“Hey!” Natalie protested weakly.

Samantha laughed — a real, relaxed sound — and the tension in Natalie’s shoulders finally eased. She even managed a small smile.

Then Samantha’s expression sobered.

“We can live together for a couple days” she said. “But starting tomorrow I’m looking for another apartment.”

Natalie’s world tilted.

“What?” she whispered. “I thought… we could have something. We just—”

Samantha turned her face away.

“Do you get into a relationship with every one-night stand you have?”

“I don’t have one-night stands,” Natalie said, voice cracking. “And even if I did… it’s you. Why would you do this to me?”

Her breathing turned shallow, panicked.

Samantha leaned in, placed a warm hand on Natalie’s thigh and rubbed slow, soothing circles.

“Hey. I had my fun. But I can’t stay.”

Natalie’s emotions were a storm. She couldn’t lose her. Not after everything. All her fantasies had come true for one perfect, depraved afternoon — and now it was supposed to end? What had she done wrong?

“But I want you to stay,” she whimpered. Tears spilled over. Her freshly hydrated throat already ached again.

“We can still see each other,” Samantha offered. “Just… not live together.”

Natalie knew that she was young. That she could fall in love again. That time would heal this. But right now those rational thoughts drowned beneath the ****, aching love she felt for the woman in front of her — the only one who could throw her a lifeline.

“I promised to be yours,” Natalie sobbed.

She lurched forward and kissed Samantha.

Samantha didn’t kiss back.

She pushed — firm, decisive — and Natalie toppled backward, half landing on the floor, half still draped over the couch.

“My kisses are reserved for the person I love,” Samantha said quietly, “not the person I own.”

Natalie froze.

The words landed like stones. Like ropes around her neck and as much as she would normally enjoy that — in this moment — it was the most suffocating feeling.

Samantha regretted ever being gentle. She regretted letting things soften. This was what happened when you went too far over the edge — walls cracked, rubble fell, and you had to keep dodging those flimsy feelings.

Meanwhile Natalie crawled forward until her cheek rested on Samantha’s lap.

“Please,” she whispered, broken. “Please don’t leave. I love you.”

To Samantha it didn’t look submissive anymore. It looked pathetic.

And yet she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t push her off again.

All she saw was little Jane squatting in the mud a decade ago — small, miserable, and so easy to hurt. And yet she felt the need to protect. For a flower needs a sun — even if that sun is black.

Words, then. Maybe words could stop this.

“You still don’t know me,” Samantha said.

“But I want to. I want to know you so badly.”

“You love the idea of me. Not me.”

“Every time I saw you at school my heart yearned,” Natalie insisted. “My feelings are real.”

“They’re—”

“They’re real,” Natalie cut in, ****.

Silence stretched.

In Samantha’s mind, old memories flickered: walking back to the classroom with Jane clinging to her like a lost puppy. A friendship born from one random act of kindness. Two people who never knew they needed each other until they did.

And now — a crying woman on her lap, confessing love that might be nothing more than infatuation built on one violent, depraved afternoon.

Could anything real grow from that?

Samantha was an adult now. Would she end up just like her mother? In solitary? A sorrow widow? While having her whole life ahead of her. She felt Natalie’s whimper ceased in defeat.

What would've happened to Jane if they never met? Was it her fault she was taken? What if after what if after what if after what if! No, she simply wasn't there when it was needed and now she could be there... to prevent instead of lament.

One of the inner walls finally gave way. But instead of crushing her, the rubble simply… dissolved. A warm, gentle light touched her — not blinding, not dramatic. Just… right.

She turned toward the window and let the last rays of the sinking sun brush her face.

Natalie had gone quiet, tears softly splashing against Samantha's thigh.

Then fingers slid slowly through Natalie’s hair.

A long, defeated sigh.

“There are things I need to figure out about myself,” Samantha murmured — then immediately regretted the vulnerability.

Natalie lifted her head, eyes wide and hopeful.

“So… living with an idiot like you might actually be convenient. For now.”

The tears of grief turned into tears of relief.

Natalie threw her arms around Samantha with surprising strength, squeezing hard.

Samantha grunted. “Okay—okay, too much, you’re crushing me.”

She pried Natalie off with an exasperated huff. Her towel almost came off.

“You’re way too clingy.”

Then, quieter:

“I’ll stay. And you — you stay out of danger. Understood?”

Natalie nodded frantically, too happy to question the cryptic warning.

“I’m going to bed early,” Samantha said. “We’ll unpack properly tomorrow morning.”

Natalie agreed, brushed her teeth, and slipped into bed soon after.

One woman lay staring at the ceiling, wondering what the future would bring.

The other stood on the balcony, breath fogging in the cold air.

“Jane…” Samantha whispered into the night.

She slipped back inside without a sound, placed a fresh water bottle on Natalie’s nightstand, and let her gaze linger.

“My cute little toy,” she thought.

“If you won’t let go of me… I might break you by accident.”

Her fingers ghosted over Natalie’s forehead, possessive and careful.

After a long moment she withdrew.

Exhaustion finally crashed over her too.

She left her dominant mask on the nightstand — figuratively, at least.

And as sleep pulled her under, one last thought drifted through:

“Or… will you break me?”