"We need to make a decision soon." Jenny Clarke speaks out and into the room, not looking at anyone in particular as she does. Her voice isn't loud nor harsh, yet to Emilia she might as well be shouting in her face; face beat red and hand waving furiously.

Her words linger in the air and feel as though they are bouncing off the walls; taunting Emilia. Torturing her. And her mother makes a fair point, a factual one at that. They do need to make a decision, the doctors have told them that much. But that doesn't make it any easier.

"Emilia?" her mother pipes up again when she isn't met with a response. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you." she's been snapping at her mother more often than not in the past few months, perhaps even more so than in her teenage years. She doesn't deserve it. And it makes Emilia hate herself all the more. "Excuse me if I'm not keen on discussing killing my father."

"That's enough." Jenny snaps, tone meant to silence her daughter. "I am losing my husband, your brother a father, too. Nothing about this is easy."

Her tone is cold, but not really reaching cruel. It's unwavering, stable. Exactly what the situation calls for. Ever since the accident, her mother has done exactly what has been expected of her. But Emilia wishes that wasn't the case.

There use to be something in the eyes that stare at her now; a glim of life. Her mother is exhausted. That much is clear. Over the course of the past months, she has become the embodiment of rationalization, something Emilia and her brother need. Something they cannot be.

But the person on the verge of death is her father, her rock, her best friend. Rationalities are not an option for her, they never were.

She just needs more time. More time to pull the money together, more time to pull Stefani into her corner and have her exactly where she needs her. Then, and only then, will they truly have the option of treatment. When they end the life support it will be because it is the right thing to do, not because it is the only thing they can do.

She just needs more time.

"Emilia." her mother's tone is more gentle this time, and for a moment Emilia catches a glimpse of the mother she knew in her adolescence. Before this accident happened. "Your father has been my greatest love, along with you and your brother. And I could very well be losing him, just as you are. But we might have to accept that fact that we already lost him. The test results—"

"—haven't come back yet." Emilia cuts her off, trying her hardest to not sound as if she is snapping at her. She fails, she knows. But her mother is talking as though his death is now written in stone without trying to hold on to the the last string of hope they have. "They haven't come back yet and you are ready to let him die. He is still under evaluation. What if the results come back and there is a chance?"

Her mother sighs slowly, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger. "Sweetheart, we both know that the chances of that happening are slim. There is no way of denying it. His organs are shutting down, and whatever is causing it is quite possibly incurable."

Rational. Logical. Her mother seems to be the complete personification of those words, sparing Emilia any sugar coating or condolences. Your father is gone, deal with it.

Like hell she will. "The conclusion you just came to is merely an assumption. None of it is factual. Not yet." she blinks away the tears that have gathered in her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat so that she can be done with this conversation. "You aren't facing reality, Mum. You're giving up on him."

"Emilia—"

"I'm not doing this right now." she grabs her purse, backing away towards the door. "I can't."

Her mother calls out after her as she turns to leave, but it only makes her walk faster.

She'll never be able to get the image out of her head; her father, broken down and lifeless under a thin blue sheet. And her mother, engulfed in sorrow, just as broken, sitting next to him.

//

She ignores the calls as they come in, one after another. Her friends only mean well, ready to comfort and reassure her. And she loves them for it. But she can't take the pity they unknowingly spew out at her right now, she just can't handle it today.

But Stefani doesn't call, she texts. Emilia appreciates it. With messages, she has time to think. Time to decide is she wants to talk or not, the option to hide.

And the thing is... Stefani is the only person in her life who doesn't know about her father.

She makes her decision swiftly and follows through before she has the chance to back out. Stefani answers on the fourth ring.

"Hey." she greets her, and Emilia can sense the smile on her lips.

"Hi." Emilia responds, letting herself forget for a moment. "Want to get something to eat?"

//

She opts for just turning off her phone instead of muting the vibration again when Matt calls for the sixth time. It's stupid, somewhat mean and a little reckless, but that's exactly what she needs right now. What she wants. And she just wants to forget.

Stefani is sitting across from her in the small booth, throwing her a sly smile as she takes another sip from her drink. She's dressed more casual today, trading her business attire for white high waisted pants, a dark brown leather belt and a loose fitted white button up. Still managing to look absolutely chic.

"Did you have a good day?" she starts, moving the napkin placed by her drink. Emilia let's a small smile lift the corner of her lips.

"So you're not going to mention the messages I haven't responded to?"

It makes Stefani's smirk rise just the slightest.

"Whether you reply to my messages is completely up to you, I'm in no position to question it."

Emilia's right brow quirks up at that, surprising her as she takes a swing from her tea. "Interesting approach." she sets her cup down. "What if something mortifying happened to me?"

"Nothing did." Stefani answers swiftly, matter-a-factly.

"But what if something did?" Stefani's lips now curl into a full smile, a soft chuckle passing her lips.

"Would you like me to ask you about the messages you didn't reply to?"

Emilia shakes her head, a light blush crawling up her neck at Stefan's question. "No it's not that, it's just— you're a little... aloof. Do you know that?"

Stefani let's out a small breathy laugh, her eyes only leaving hers for a moment before meeting them again as she replies. "I've been told. But I think it's important to give space if one seems to need it. Whether that space becomes permanent... well, only time will tell. And your call told me it wouldn't be in this particular situation."

Emilia keeps her eyes locked on the green ones seemingly relaxed yet criminally focused on her, that familiar foreign feeling igniting in her stomach. She ignores it again. "And what would you have done? In that situation." she starts before elaborating a beat later. "Had this particular situation become permanent." she lightly teases the blonde.

Suddenly, green eyes are unreadable before they gain clarity. A chill gets sent down her body, leaving Emilia confused as to whether it's more to do with the intensity Stefani can easily switch into or how vibrant the green in her eyes currently is. "Then I'd wish you the best, hope your decision gets you where you want it to," Stefani starts, her voice lower than before, but softer than she's spoken all night. She doesn't know how to describe the feeling spreading from her abdomen to her chest, she just knows she's felt it before. Just never really as she does in this moment. "Then I'd hope we never run into each other in public ever again." Stefani finishes, the way she reaches for and sips her drink afterwards letting Emilia know she is mostly joking, and partly serious."

She chuckle lightly before continuing. "So you wouldn't stalk me?"

Stefani swallows the liquid in her mouth before answering the question. "Mm. What do you personally consider stalking?"

Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't eaten yet along with the anticipation of waiting for her food and lack of human interaction these past couple days that is pushing her towards thinking that is the funniest joke she has heard in weeks, but Emilia could swear it genuinely is. She just can't let her know that more than her laugh currently is.

Stefani tilts her head in a shrug, bringing her drink back up to her lips. Her eyes dance with teasing, and Emilia realizes then that they hold the perfect shade of green; the kind that actually hold a glimmer.

Emilia humors her, breaking away from her gaze. "Right well, I'm changing the locks."

Stefani laughs, and suddenly the music coming in through the speakers don't sound as melodic. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. But seriously. I won't assume anything, and am open to hearing what you have to say should you ever want to explain. No sneaky motives."

The small, reassuring smile Stefani gives her makes her chest ache. I wish I could say the same, Stefani.

//

They end up spending  the day together and it is as lovely as it is unexpected. They walk through the semi-busy streets of the city, passing through the ice skating rink that was set up just three weeks prior. Stefani makes an argument to rent some skates and glide around together, but Emilia shuts that idea down immediately. Letting Stefani know that ice skating was invented by satan himself, and how he cleverly disguised it in the opposite element so people wouldn't notice it was his work.

Stefani finds this amusing, ultimately agreeing to continue their stroll. And as a result, they find themselves passing through Emilia's favorite trail at the local park, admiring the seasonal change of bare trees and resplendent fallen leafs.

Watching a man speed past them just a couple feet away, the arm attached to the brief case clutching a pile of paper to his torso as he rambles away on the phone, Emilia begins to wonder how Stefani has so much free time on her hands. When she voices this, Stefani laughs.

"You sound like Jennifer." she states.

"Jennifer?"

"My adviser. She doesn't understand how I have any time to myself, either." she shares. "Before, I honestly didn't. There were even whispers in the office questioning if I ever truly left. Now I try to limit myself. I don't go in on the weekends, and I try not to stay in the office past 8:00. Well... 9:00."

Now Emilia's curiosity is really piqued. "And what's changed? From then and now?"

Stefani only shrugs. "Life. I realized I need to spend more time with the people who matter, with myself."

She doesn't make a point to elaborate further, and Emilia doesn't pry. No matter how much she wants to. She only smiles, a little voice in the back of her head wondering if she is one of those people.

She asks Emilia about her studies and work before the conversation eventually shifts to stories Stefani has of her employees.

"Those who don't work closely with me are scared of me." Stefani states, somewhat amused. When Emilia asks her why, she shrugs. "Those who work closely with me probably don't speak very kindly of me when I'm not there."

Emilia thinks of Matt and indents half moons into the palm that isn't currently pressed against Stefani's.

"And why do you think that is?"

Amusement dances on Stefani's features, and Emilia can feel it again. The intimidation Stefani is capable of, the ability to control an entire room and silence anyone who dares question her authority. "Because I have very little patience for those who can't do their job properly. And I have no problem correcting them."

"You've spoken like a true CEO." Emilia smirks, letting a soft beat pass before she continues. "It seems rigorous. Tiresome."

"What does?"

Running a thumb over the back of Stefani's hand, she looks into her emerald eyes before answering. "Carrying the weight you seem to hold on your shoulders. Do you ever think of leaving it? All of it. Just leaving it all behind."

This seems to catch Stefani by surprise, if the furrowing of brows and sudden aversion of eye contact are any indication. Emilia almost laughs to herself. Of course the time she finally seems to make this woman lose her balance is when she isn't trying.

Stefani doesn't answer for a few steps, and Emilia begins to think of another subject to change to, wondering if she may have overstepped some unspoken boundary."Once, yes, I did."

The word falls from her lips like a delicate memory, like if she packed it away and placed it on a top shelf long ago. Always meaning to revisit it but never quite being able to. "I loved singing and playing the piano as a child. I thought I might become a singer, a performer."

Now this Emilia did not expect. "And?" The very thought of Stefani Germanotta— someone who Forbes listed as number one in most accomplished women in business before the age of 30, number 3 in most powerful women in business— who majored in the least creative curriculum a university has to offer, holding onto a long unspoken affinity for being what, a rockstar? This she needs to know more of.

The smile tugging at her lips is what Emilia sees before Stefani turns back to face her completely. "And life happened. As it always seems to." she doesn't seems defeated, if only a little sad. Accepting. "Unprecedented circumstances always manage to weave their way in, no matter how hard you try to prevent them. I've come to learn that the only way through it is to... try and navigate them the best we can."

Stefani glanced away then, the long breath she takes only noticeable from the rising of her chest. "When my parents passed, it happened so suddenly— the only thing I knew I could do was take over. I had a duty to my family, my parents, to continue their legacy and honor the years of hard work that had gotten us to where we were. But it's okay, I enjoy the work. Dreams of selling out Madison square garden can wait for another life." she smiles.

Emilia stares intently as she speaks, allowing herself to imagine a young Stefani scribbling her hand tired into endless notebooks. Extending her fingers far enough that they ached, fingertips peeling and hardening with every guitar cord she memorized. Working to the best of her ability so that everything was executed just right.

"What genre of music would you do?" she asks, anticipating the answer more than she should. Stefani looks back at her in time to catch her smile, one of her own emerging before she can help it.

"Pop." this time, Emilia cannot contain her disbelief.

"No!" Emilia giggles to herself. "You?! And pop music?"

Stefani stands her ground in equally shared amusement, letting go of Emilia's hand to elope their arms. "What? I could be a pop star."

"I don't doubt it." Emilia responds. "I just wouldn't have guessed pop. Great genre."

"Amazing genre." Stefani clarifies. A string of laughter from Emilia follows, her eyes crinkling and head rustling to the side as she unconsciously leans into Stefani.

Stefani smiles. "I like your laugh." She turns to face the blonde, her eyes unable to leave Stefani's face.

"I like you." It leaves her mouth before she registers she's speaking out loud, but she doesn't take it back. Because it feels good, it feels natural.  Then her eyes focus, and the reality of the situation settles in. "You're okay, I suppose."

"Thanks." Stefani chuckles, unaware of Emilia's current internal struggle of deciding whether or not her last declaration is factual. "It's getting colder, we should head inside." she adds, looking around as the park lights begin to turn on. "I think there's a coffee shop around the corner."

"Oh no more coffee shops, please. I cannot handle the smell of caffeine after these past exams." Emilia exasperates. Feeling a chill run through her at the passing wind, Emilia shoves her hands under arms. Even with her thick coat and gloves, the weather seems to be winning. "But the inside does sound nice. Anything else in mind?"

Emilia's mother comes to her mind then, her words from earlier ringing unbearably. We have to make a decision soon.

Luckily, the hesitation itching on Stefani's face before she speaks offers her a distraction. "How about a nightcap?" At the knowing smile emerging on Emilia's lips, Stefani is quick to clarify. "We don't have to do anything— I just, want to spend time with you."

"Mmm," Emilia hums. "In your apartment."

"Just one drink." Stefani assures her. Emilia smiles before nodding.

"Alright. One drink."

//

Stefani's apartment is even more luxurious than she could have imagined.

The space, while much bigger than Emilia would consider to be an apartment, is open. And warm. It's decor is much more that of a home than the modern look people with Stefani's wealth typically go for and Emilia can appreciate it. It doesn't feel as though this space is temporary.

And it has a fucking fireplace. An actual functioning, logs of wood inside fireplace, that they are currently snuggled up in front of on the spacious white couch discussing whether the second season of big little lies will hold up to the first. Who knew apartments could have that?

They're on her third glass of wine when Emilia finally leans in and captures Stefani's plump pink lips in her own. She needs to stop consuming alcohol around Stefani. And Stefani really needs to stop wearing whatever god damn perfume she is wearing. It's intoxicating, and completely unfair.

It's not that Emilia is actually into it. It's just that Stefani's perfume is a bit on the masculine side— yes, that's it. That, mixed with her energy and the fact that she is a very good kisser is behind Emilia's inclination.

She knows she is lying to herself at this point.

But she needs to, for some reason. It brings her solace. So she ignores it, and enjoys the feeling of her lips sliding against Stefani's. There were never any sort of expectations to begin with, and to be quite honest she spent more time trying not think about it, but... wow.

Stefani's lips are so so very soft. And full. So much more than what she is use to.

She's gentle, and warm, and firm.

Emilia doesn't put any thought into her next move. She isn't even sure that she could if she tried. Her mind is on autopilot, blissfully blank as she meets Stefani's lips just a little harder. A little more desperate. Her lower stomach twists when Stefani doesn't hesitate to match her sudden earnestness.

Hands come up to cup Emilia's cheeks on either side, thumbs running soothing strokes over her cheekbones. And Emilia finds herself deepening the kiss further, wanting more, even if she isn't completely ready for what comes next.

She swipes her tongue over Stefani's bottom lip, gently asking for an entrance that the blonde eagerly provides her with.

She expects for things to turns hot and heavy— preparing herself for it, really. But Stefani doesn't push, doesn't rush. Instead, she finds her tongue running slowly across her own before flicking over the roof of her mouth. Slow enough for it not to feel gross, yet slow enough to feel unexpectedly sexy.

The hunger consuming Emilia makes itself known in a groan, her hands gripping the hair at the nape of Stefani's neck as she pushes the blonde against the couch, swinging a leg over her lap a second later to straddle her hips. A gasp leaves Stefani's lips, hands not missing a beat as the find Emilia's waist. All that's on her mind is Stefani, and how she wants to be as close to her as humanly possible, take as much of her in as she can.

For the first time in months, nothing hovers her mind. Not her father, not her mother, not her brother, not her boyfriend. And that she can admit she did not expect. She severely underestimated Stefani, simply because she was a woman and she believed a woman couldn't wield this kind of affect on her.

Bollocks was she wrong.

She can try and blame it on the wine they drank that she was too afraid to ask Stefani the price of, she can say it's the fact that she hasn't seen her boyfriend in over three weeks, but she knows the truth. No matter how much she tries to push it down. She knows there's something there.

But all of that can wait. Because right now, as she feels Stefani under her, gasping and moaning as she leaves a trail of open mouth kisses down her neck, she is throwing all caution to the wind. She's not questioning it.

Not when a low moan escapes Stefani's mouth, and certainly not when she keeps pulling her closer. Like she can't get enough of her either.

Emilia recognizes the feeling then. It's the same feeling she felt that other night at the bar, hell, it's the same one she felt the first time she ever met Stefani. And she can finally pinpoint the cause.

Stefani is fucking sexy.

The realization causes a loud moan to leave her mouth before she can think the muffle it, her hips grinding down against Stefani's thighs.

"Fuck." Stefani voices under her breath, her hands lowering to aid Emilia in her movement.

Her lips move up to find Emilia's pulse point, sucking on it tenderly and Emilia feels as though the room is spinning. It's all so much— her hands, her lips, her touch, the feel of her pressed up against her spread legs.

It's consuming. And exciting. And not her boyfriend. It's not even a boy, for christs sake. Ridiculous as her thoughts sound, she can't shake them. And the thought that follows leaves her at drawing a blank,

Am I about to have sex with her? Are we— as in she is—

"Hey," Stefani snaps her out of her restless mind. "Emilia." her voice is soft and sultry, yet still leaves Emilia shaken at the sound of it. She realizes in that moment that Stefani's movements have haltered. Her hands no longer roam, but stay rested on either side of her waist, holding her steadily as she continues to straddle her waist. Stopping what she's doing, she peers back and into emerald eyes who now are filled with reassurance and worry. "Do you want to stop? It's okay if you need to slow d—"

"—No," Emilia is quick to respond this time. "I— I'm just, I'm not," she stops herself to pause her fumbling, but in doing so is left with confusion as to how Stefani knew she was tense. Was it that obvious? Letting go of the pressure in her chest she was unaware she was holding, she lets out a shaky breath to relax herself before continuing. "How did you..."

"You were trembling." Stefani informs her soothingly.

She feels her body run cold then. Despite the warmth from the fire behind her and Stefani's temperature underneath her, she feels cold.

Perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as her and Matt believed it would be.

"I'm sorry." she finds herself whispering. "I didn't mean to— I swear, I'm not being a tease or—"

Stefani's brows furrow together, right hand coming up to brush a fallen strand being Emilia's left ear.

"—Emilia." she's quick to interrupt her. "You have nothing to apologize for. Please don't ever feel like you have to apologize for something like this." she brushes her thumb across her cheek twice. "Okay?"

"Okay." Emilia nearly gasps. The heat radiating off of the fire is suddenly too much, making the air too thin and the spacious room feel too small.

Stefani's gaze makes her feel as though she is under a microscope, but in the same breath, makes her feel seen. She gets it. She understands it. Perhaps without even properly knowing what she is currently feeling, or the underlying truth, in this moment there is nothing but understanding and reassurance in her gaze.

"I'm not usually like this," Emilia says. "It's unfortunate you had to meet me when my life is particularly shit."

It's unfortunate you met me at all.

"I know this has come up two times today already," Stefani starts, left hand tucking the other strand behind Emilia's right ear, eyes searching. "But life can be unfortunate. Things happen, and you can't really make sense of them." Emilia says nothing as the blonde talks, only focusing on green irises and her sultry voice. "But somehow, you do."

Emilia shatters into a heap of a mess.

"I know it's too soon to say something like that." Stefani smiles in slight embarrassment, and Emilia feels the weight she has long been hauling rid itself off her body as she lets herself fall into Stefani's embrace. Even if it is just in this moment. Letting herself feel all that she has carried these past months, the tragedy, the mourning, the sobs she finally lets herself spill help her rid of it all. It's long overdue.

It's once Emilia has recollected herself that Stefani decides to speak up again.

"I get it if you don't want to talk about it. Trust me." the sincerity mixed with something else in her voice forces Emilia to meet her gaze once again. But the tears haven't fully left her eyes, so she brings a hand to wipe at them. And then at her cheeks, positive the mascara she applied has long fallen down. "But I think sometimes, strangers can be easier to talk to. I'm sure I'm the closest to being one than anyone else in your life right now."

"Do you peg me for someone who let's strangers shove their tongue down my throat?" Emilia teases.

Stefani chuckles. "On occasion."

"My father's dying."

Well,  fuck.

an // hey girlies!! so sorry it's been so long since the last update— school + pandemic + writers block have been kicking my ass. But I've been listening to folklore + her good sister evermore and am ready to bring you the ✨ PAIN ✨