The rain had started sometime after midnight — not loud, but steady, like a quiet hush over the city. The apartment was dim except for the soft light in the bathroom, where Mira stood, brushing her damp hair in the mirror.
From behind, she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps. Elle leaned against the doorway, her oversized T-shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder, her dark curls still messy from sleep.
“You’re still awake,” Elle said, voice husky.
Mira gave a small smile through the mirror. “I couldn’t sleep. The storm, I guess.”
Elle stepped closer, her bare feet whispering against the tile. “Or maybe your mind’s too loud.”
Mira lowered the brush. “Maybe.”
There was silence again, but it wasn’t awkward. Elle reached out and gently touched Mira’s wrist. Their eyes met in the reflection, and Mira didn’t pull away.
“I like the rain,” Elle said. “Everything feels… slower. Closer.”
Mira turned, facing her. They were just inches apart now. The light from the mirror softened Elle’s features — her wide, warm eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against Mira’s arm.
“I like being close to you,” Elle said, barely above a whisper.
Mira reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Elle’s ear. “You always say the quiet things out loud.”
“I only say them when I mean them.”
There was a pause, fragile and full. Then Mira leaned forward, slowly — testing the space between them — until their foreheads touched. A soft exhale. A shared breath.
“I’ve never…” Mira began.
“You don’t have to explain,” Elle whispered, and her hand found Mira’s waist, not pulling — just resting. Safe.
But Mira did lean in. Her lips brushed Elle’s gently, once — a pause — then again, deeper, more certain. The kiss was soft and slow, like the beginning of a song they both already knew.
They stayed close, arms wrapping loosely around each other, swaying slightly as the rain tapped the windows beyond.
The bathroom filled with steam as they stepped together under the warm water — not for passion, not yet — but for presence. For closeness. For learning each other in quiet, sacred ways.
Elle’s fingers traced Mira’s back with care, mapping unfamiliar skin with reverence. Mira rested her head against Elle’s shoulder, heart steadying in the comfort of shared silence.
Outside, the storm went on. But inside, there was warmth. And something tender unfolding.
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