Archive of Our Own

Michelle was a very, very good friend.

She was supportive in an underlying way - a solid shoulder to lean on, dependable and reliable. Her emotions were loud and sometimes came out wrong, but Michelle was sure that her friends had scarcely doubted how fiercely loyal she was to them. How she only ever wanted the best for them, truly. 

It was no hidden truth that Michelle said what she was thinking. Unabashedly honest even when people didn't always seek her answer. When her thoughts were jumbled, she talked and talked until all of the words were expelled from her brain, and only then could she attempt to decode it. It made it confusing for the people around her, sure, but it was better to talk in circles until the real message came through clear enough rather than to let all of her thoughts overlap and mesh together so much that even she had no idea what was going on. 

So, in a lot of cases, Michelle's honesty was misplaced. Dishonest in the most honest way. She'd say something before she fully thought it through, or truly knew what it meant, and she offered no further explanation because she didn't have one. 

This was why Michelle and Willow worked so well together, Michelle thought. Lovely Willow, who had a heart of gold and had thoughts too loud and not enough words to say them. Perfect Willow, whose brain was always working and working and thinking, and Michelle was the only one who could figure out her silent communication - even before Willow herself sometimes. Angel Willow, who had had a lifetime already of picking apart Michelle's brain and half-finished thoughts and stubborn sentences ripped from her chest and left to rot. She'd cradle the broken pieces and untangle them like they were gentle threads to be tugged, never yanked. With her nimble artist fingers and soft, so soft, upkeep of all she cared for. Of everything. 

Michelle had never had to feel like she must filter herself around Willow, and in return, Willow always trusted that what Michelle was saying was her own mind's version of the absolute, hard truth. 

And this, maybe, is where it all started. 

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1. 

Their favourite cafe was just off campus, a short fifteen minute walk. Not totally unreasonable, and certainly nice when they could be amble and the sun was out, but it made for a bit of an earlier start if they did want to take their time. Which was usually the case, since both Willow and Michelle had an unhealthy coffee addiction, and Michelle sure as hell wasn't going to let Willow fund that herself. 

Willow's arm, clad in a warm jacket, was laced through Max's, their heads close together as they traded hushed whispers that weren't really whispers, secrets that weren't really secrets; little titbits of information or gossip that the other girls weren't privy to - yet. But with Lucy being Max's girlfriend, and Michelle being Willow's roommate and best friend, it was only a matter of time. Michelle watched Willow, eyes glued to her back and her surroundings as a natural precaution she always seemed to take, making sure she didn't trip or stray too close to the road or, god forbid, someone barge into her. 

"-like the distinct lack of squirrel to rat ratio in this city is worrying, I'm starting to think. When was the last time you were worried over a squirrel stealing your lunch?" Lucy was asking, hands flailing about in an organised looking way, an odd, contradicting feat.

"Uh, never?" Michelle put her long legs to good use and in three long strides got in front of Willow as they approached the coffee shop, pulling the door open for the girl. The soft smile and small thanks she got in return was worth it. Max sent her a sarcastic smile as she, too, scooted past, and Michelle sneered at her. 

"Exactly!" Lucy exclaimed, very seriously, and Michelle had honestly forgotten they were in the middle of a conversation. Reluctantly, she drew her eyes away from Willow's figure and onto Lucy - an unfortunate downgrade, in her honest opinion. At least she didn't have to look at Max. "Exactly. And yet every day you carry food with you out in the open air, you fear that a rat - nay, a hundred rats! - will descend upon you before you can even get a little nibble. Ripped from your tastebuds before the crumbs even graced them." 

Michelle blinked at her friend, long and slow, mustering the resting bitch face accolade she'd acquired long ago. "What the actual fuck are you talking about?" 

Lucy groaned, throwing her head onto Max's shoulder. Max gave her a half-hearted head pat for her troubles. "No one cares about my rat-to-squirrel population worry. But you will. Oh, you will. When the rats get us all, you'll all care then!" 

Michelle decided to tune her out. She switched her full attention to Willow, who was next in line. Much better. Willow was laughing at Lucy's plight, but at Michelle's burning gaze, her eyes realigned. Michelle loved it when that soft, all-too fond smile was directed at her. 

"You okay?" Michelle asked, scooting half a step closer instinctively.

As Willow nodded, a strand of her hair untucked from her ears, blending with the bangs at the front of her head. Michelle's hands itched to re-tuck it. To use the delicacy she could only seem to garner around Willow, and gently push it back to its rightful place. She stared a second too long, a hesitant moment wasted, because Willow was already reaching up and readjusting it herself. 

"What do you think about-," 

Whatever Willow was about to say was left open-ended, because the person in front of her completed their order and it was now Willow's turn. She smiled politely as she shuffled into the unoccupied space, a greeting on her pretty lips, before the barista got there before her. 

"Hi- wow. You're so- you're really pretty." The girl behind the counter said as she looked up. Willow's cheeks flushed an addictive shade of pink and Michelle's eyes squinted, snapping towards the barista. She heard Lucy whisper uh oh behind her, but all of her attention was fixed on the barista's nervous adoration, and Willow's flushed but still pleased face. 

What. 

"Oh - thank you." Willow replied softly, fingers darting up to fiddle with her necklace - a telltale nervous habit. "You are too. Pretty, I mean." 

Michelle assessed the barista. She had to disagree, really. Her eyebrows were too thick - much too thick. Willow would probably like someone with thinner, darker eyebrows. And maybe an eyebrow piercing. Much like Michelle's own, actually. Coincidentally. Michelle's eyes skimmed down. The barista's fingers were coated in an obnoxious shade of purple, bright and bold. Again - not really Willow's thing, probably. If Willow were to care about someone's nails - a potential suitor, at that - she'd probably want a classic black set. Maybe a deep blue. Michelle sniffed, glancing at her own chipped black nails. Yeah, seems about right. 

And - this girl. Her hair. Definitely not Willow's type. Maybe. It was chopped haggardly. Harsh layers that would look cool on literally anyone else. Just not this girl, who was making eyes at Michelle's best friend. The girl's fringe was, in Michelle's humble, truly honest opinion, too short. Not edgy micro bang short, but a I'm gonna cut this myself and do it wrong and now I'm walking around with the consequences literally right on my forehead kind of short. No, Willow definitely wouldn't be into that. She'd probably look for someone with shorter, curlier hair. Black, likely. And on top of that, someone who could make the right hair decision and cut evenly, if she just so happened to want to do an at home makeover.

Michelle let her judgemental eyes roam the barista, who was now blushing audaciously, and decided that no, Willow should not be with this girl. Willow needed a life partner who would always be able to keep her on the right path, not steer her to an eternity of bad hair days. 

With that decided, Michelle pressed slightly closer to Willow. For silent protection. And emotional support. Michelle would be here to support Willow's decision to reject this girl, obviously. 

"No, I mean - wow. Sorry, I don't usually get nervous." Bad hair barista was saying, eyes darting across Willow's face. Ugh. She should keep her eyes to herself. Everyone knew Willow was pretty - that was, like, a fact of life. She had a quiet sort of pretty - radiant and alluring. Like the sun, Michelle often thought privately, when she just could not help but stare at the glow seemingly pouring from her best friend's moles and freckles and beauty marks. If Michelle was being totally objective and platonic about it. "What can I get for you today?" 

They've been standing here for thirty seconds, and the barista was only just now asking Willow what she wanted. Michelle was adding terrible at tending to customers to her list of reasons as to why Willow absolutely should not date this girl. 

She decided now was the perfect time to intervene. "Oh, she'll have an iced white mocha with two pumps of vanilla. And then I'll have an americano with just a splash of milk. Thanks." 

Michelle felt gratified when the barista's suddenly nervous eyes darted between the pair. Willow glanced over to Michelle, a pleased little smile dimpling her mouth as it always did when Michelle did something to remind her that she noticed and remembered. 

"Yeah, totally! Sorry, um." The barista scrambled to put in their order. Michelle felt a little bad that she'd made the girl feel pressured, but ultimately not that bad. "Will that be all today?" 

"Yep." Michelle got her card out as the barista announced their total. 

"Wait - no, Micha-," Willow exclaimed, putting her hand around Michelle's wrist in a futile move to stop the money being taken from her digital bank account. "It was supposed to be my turn!" 

Michelle hummed, trying to put her card back in her wallet without jostling Willow's hold on her. "It's never your turn, Wills. Thanks." She said to the barista - because she still had manners dammit - moving to head for the other end of the counter

"Wait," the barista said quickly before Willow could step to follow her. Michelle instantly came to a halt, too. "Sorry, this might be a bit forward - just. Are you two together?" 

Michelle felt her own eyebrows - perfectly trimmed, score for Michelle - raise involuntarily at the comment, confused as to where the hell that even came from. She turned to Willow, hoping to see the same underlying amusement that Michelle felt written across her features. Instead, Willow was blinking up at the girl, embarrassment lining her face. Michelle frowned. 

"Oh, no!" Willow scrambled to explain. "No, we're not - um, no, not at all. We're just, no. No, we're friends." 

Friends? Try lifelong best friends and roommate! Michelle thought grumpily. The barista's eyes lit up, but now all Michelle could see was her too-short bangs. It seemed like they were getting worse the longer she looked. Surely Willow was seeing this too? 

"Oh, great! Good to know." 

Is it? Michelle, now thoroughly over the conversation and impatient, wrapped her hands gently around Willow's wrist and tugged her away. Willow's body didn't take a lot of convincing to follow Michelle, fifteen years of following each other everywhere will prove that. 

Willow still had a pleased little smile on her face when they got to the pick up station; Michelle detested it. Not the smile itself - Willow always looked gorgeous, and a smile suited her better than anyone in the world, but hated that it was directed at this undeserving barista, who didn't know the first thing about Willow other than that she was pretty! Which, might Michelle repeat, everyone knew! She didn't know how many drops of honey Willow liked in her tea after an abrupt wake up from a nightmare. She didn't know that the first thing Willow did when she got home was change into a different pair of socks - apartment socks, she called them - because her feet were always the first thing to get cold. She didn't even know that Willow was an artist, for christ sake! That was, like, a fundamental Willow fact! 

By the time Michelle had finished her silent stewing, Lucy and Max had ordered and joined them. Max was quietly teasing Willow about the flirty barista, who, even now, kept glancing down the counter in their - Willow's - direction. 

"I mean, she was so giving you eyes." Max giggled, hushed, nudging Willow gently. Oh, good. If even Max noticed, then Michelle wasn't being overdramatic about it. Not that she thought she was. The barista was the one being super obvious! "Willow, you should've asked for her number or something!"

Michelle's eyes shot to Willow, seeking any signal that Willow thought this to be a good idea. Aside from Willow's rosy cheeks, she mostly just seemed embarrassed. "Oh, no. I don't know.. she was probably just being nice-,"

"Iced white mocha and an americano?" 

Michelle snapped to attention at their order being called, and she darted forward to collect them from the counter. The barsita, a different one this time, a preppy brunet girl, smirked when Michelle got there. "There's a little something for your friend there on the side." She winked, before darting off. 

With frantic eyes, Michelle searched the cup, sure enough finding a phone number scrawled across the side with a name underneath. Lindsey. What a shit name. Silently fuming, Michelle turned with the cups in her hand and headed back for her friends. Who did this girl think she was - a romcom star? Who does that sort of corny shit? That's not a proper way to flirt with someone - it should be done delicately! Over time! Not haphazardly sharpie'd onto a takeaway coffee cup. 

"Holy shit, let me see that!" Max gasped when Michelle was close enough. She yanked the cup from Michelle's hands with no remorse, a laugh pushing past her lips. "Oh my god, Willow!" 

"Okay, okay, give me that." Willow murmured, reaching for the cup. Now her cheeks were fully red, head tilting down to duck behind her bangs as she always did when she felt she needed a shield. Michelle raised her eyebrows at Max passive aggressively. Max relented with another laugh as Lucy smirked quietly.

Michelle could feel the barista staring at their backs, likely anxious to see how Willow would react. And if Michelle could feel it, then so could Willow. Michelle pressed her arm against her best friend's in silent reassurance and she felt some of the tension drain from Willow instantaneously. Michelle smiled to herself. This was something the barista couldn't do, something Willow would always need Michelle for. Michelle could comfort Willow with the exact right touch. She knew, inherently, exactly what Willow needed. Not a single of their other friends could do that. Not a single other person in the world was privy to this.

Michelle certainly wouldn't be letting Willow order with this needy barista again, that's for sure. 

It wasn't long before Lucy and Max's orders got called, allowing them to leave. When Willow shot a timid smile over her shoulder at the barista, Michelle planted a firm hand at the small of her back and urged her forward. With a knowing look, Willow went obligingly. 

"That's so cute, Willow, honestly." Max was saying, her hand that wasn't occupied with holding her drink laced through Lucy's. "She seemed really nice." 

"Cute, too!" Lucy tacked on, planting a kiss on Max's cheek when her girlfriend turned in offence. "Sorry, babe. You're the cutest ever." 

Max broke out into a grin instantly. "I'm kidding, obviously she's not cuter than me and obviously Willow should text her!"

Michelle was mentally cycling through reasons she was still friends with these people in her head; longevity, DND, Lucy lived on her street, Max...

Okay, she was starting to struggle. Especially because there were still talking about the dumb barista! With her dumb hair!

"Her bangs were way too short." 

The conversation halted at Michelle's input, which was so annoying, because if everyone else could give their opinion, why couldn't Michelle?! It's not her fault she happened to disagree. It was not a crime to have a different opinion - plus, she knew Willow the best, so technically her opinion mattered more. 

Why was everyone still silent? Why had they come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk?

"What?" Michelle spat defensively, when her friends continued to stare at her blankly. 

Willow tilted her head, pretty hazel eyes studying Michelle in blatant confusion. "Her bangs looked.. fine to me?" She turned to Lucy and Max for support, but Michelle was already swinging her head in denial and rushing to make her point.

"Nope. Trust me, they were way too short. Like, accidental short. Used-my-kitchen-scissors-to-do-this-and-fucked-it-up kind of short." 

Squinting her eyes, Willow said, "Um, okay? I didn't think so." 

"Me neither." Max was just throwing around reminders as to why she was Michelle's biggest enemy today, apparently. "They looked cool - edgy." 

"Of course you'd think that!" Michelle spat, throwing her hands in Max's direction, much to the redhead's apparent delight. "You wouldn't know cool or edgy if it hurtled down the street and jumped on you like a bear in the wild!" 

They were still clogging the sidewalk, but fortunately it wasn't that busy. Michelle felt comfortable throwing her arms around to make her point without fear of knocking a senior citizen to the ground.

"Something bothering you, Wheeler?" 

Ignoring Max's devilish grin, Michelle pushed on. "They weren't even micro bangs, really. Just way too short and cut horrendously." This time, Michelle whirled around to Willow, who had begun to look quietly amused, though still baffled. "Willow, you don't want to date someone with ugly bangs. That's - that's like announcing that you should be proud of hair neglect! You're supporting someone who actively neglects what's in their best interest for their hair! She probably uses, like, 3-in-1. You definitely don't want that." 

If Willow and Lucy were trying to hide their laughter, they were doing a poor job. Max, on the other hand, didn't bother trying to cover hers, barking out a grating sound just to drive home how little she thought of Michelle's tirade. Did no one care about hair wellbeing anymore?! 

Michelle tuned the others out, focusing in on Willow. Willow, whose pink lips were twisted up to hold in her laugh. Willow, who was clutching the strap of her messenger bag in one hand and holding The Cup in another. Michelle wanted to take the cup and drive all the way to the recycling factory and personally watch as they crushed it up. 

Shaking her head fondly, Willow reached out and tugged Michelle by the wrist to get her to start walking again. "C'mon, weirdo. Walk me to class. I'm not learning about the historical significance of wax paints by standing on the sidewalk and listening to you talk about hair neglect." 

Michelle wanted to say more, to push like she always tended to do, but Willow had, in her own roundabout way, told her to shut up, so that's what Michelle did. She let Willow steer them on and allowed her to change the topic, because if Willow had something to say, that always became Michelle's priority. 

Later, as they inched closer to campus and Lucy and Max had diverted, Michelle paused by a trash can. She was holding hers and Willow's trash, as she always insisted on, but she turned to Willow, hesitating before making her next move.

For some reason, she was nervous to ask. More nervous to hear the answer. Did Willow want to keep it? Did she want to text the uneven, choppy bangs barista? 

"Do you.." Michelle started, hesitating. "Can I throw this away?" 

For a beat, Willow didn't reply. Her eyes blinked down at the cup, and then back up to Michelle, gaze softening with understanding. Michelle thought Willow better answer quickly, before her heart leaped out of its rightful place in her body and into Willow's cup-free hands. 

"Sure, Mimi. You can throw it away." 

All at once, Michelle's body sagged in something that felt like relief. Willow's childhood nickname for her always made her chest do something funny. She didn't waste a second more, just in case Willow changed her mind, and she aggressively shoved the cup where it belonged - the trash. Willow rolled her eyes at Michelle's slightly smug grin, but she reached for Michelle's hand nevertheless. 

Michelle only dropped Willow's hand once she'd successfully dropped her at her lecture hall, before darting to her own first lecture of the day. She attended two lectures, got late lunch with El, finished up an essay in the library, and headed back to her and Willow's apartment. 

Her smug, all too relieved smile didn't leave her face the entire time. 

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2. 

They don't talk about it. 

Michelle is sure they're both thinking about it; Willow being radiant enough to pull without even really having to do anything except stand there and be pretty. Michelle is certainly thinking about it, which means it's highly likely that Willow is too - chronic overthinker that she is. But they don't talk about it. If Willow isn't bringing it up, Michelle definitely won't. She doesn't even want to be thinking about someone else feeling entitled to Willow's time and energy at all. 

Fortunately, they don't see the barista again. Well, Willow doesn't. Michelle sees her once, in an unfortunate, poorly timed coffee run between classes, but Willow wasn't with her. Thankfully. That would've been just plain awkward for the barista, who Willow basically rejected. Sort of. As it was, Michelle had done her best not to grin with spite-induced enthusiasm for the entire interaction, and she's sure it hadn't worked at all. 

And, without the barista breathing down her best friend's neck, Michelle could be reluctantly objective and admit that her bangs weren't that bad. 

Still shit, though.

Things continued on as normal. The days got brighter, temperature inching up slowly. Michelle attended her lectures, drank copious amounts of coffee, walked Willow to classes, wrote her essays, drank more coffee, watched old TV re-runs on her and Willow's shitty couch that they loved dearly, got nervous and re-edited her essay for a third time before Willow forcibly dragged her from her laptop, and drank more coffee. Seriously, so much coffee. 

A change to Michelle's unhealthy but well-adapted lifestyle was approaching, however, as Lucy had invited them all to a 'small gathering' (read: everyone inviting more and more people until whoever's house they were in was crammed and spilling out into the neighbourhood) this Friday night with her basketball team. Michelle had been quick to accept the invitation, half of which was to do with the way Willow had been hunched over her sketchbook for days, soft forehead wrinkled in stress. They could both use a break, Michelle decided.

Willow's eyes had lit up when Michelle had informed her, and there really was no better sight. 

The night arrived; Willow looked pretty. Very pretty. She always did, but it was rare she got herself super dolled up, so Michelle liked to appreciate the effort when the opportunity came about. She was wearing a short, flowy white dress and brown boots, lace socks peaking out over the top. Very, very pretty. Michelle herself had been wrangled into something slightly more stylish than she'd normally wear under Willow's disapproving glare, and they were off, doing their best to follow google maps' directions. 

Though the night was slightly warmer than most as they inched into late spring, Michelle knew it would get chilly later. She side-eyed Willow's thinly-covered arms, jacket much too light for midnight's bite. Michelle would have to sort it out later. 

It wasn't hard to find the party once they were on the right street, music booming and obnoxious. Exactly what they needed. They made their way through hoards of people, Michelle keeping one arm on the small of Willow's back, walking half a step behind her on their mission to find the kitchen. Successfully arriving at their destination, Willow grabbed two cups and started mixing whatever she could get her hands on. Michelle watched, enthralled and enthusiastic. 

"My little bartender," Michelle grinned teasingly, laughing when Willow threw an empty, discarded plastic cup at her head. 

A drink and a half later and they were politely buzzed enough to brave the actual party, instead of standing in the corner of the kitchen giggling to themselves like losers. They set off to look for their friends, who were spread out enough to make their job difficult. Willow separated when she found her twin, dancing exuberantly with a group of girls. She nodded in her direction to signal where she was going and waited for Michelle's nod in either approval or recognition, before disappearing into the crowd. Michelle made sure she reached her sister safely, before continuing on to the cluster of couches and armchairs, where Daisy, Max and Lucy were. 

Max was perched on Lucy's lap, trading a joint with her girlfriend and a couple of others. Michelle slumped down into the spot beside Daisy, who appeared to be in a heated debate about the performative names of cats - whatever the hell that meant - with a few people Michelle didn't recognise. 

"Where's Willow?" Max asked, arm slung around her girlfriend's neck. 

Michelle rolled her eyes out of principle, though secretly she enjoyed these sorts of questions. Where's Willow, Michelle? You know, because you two are attached at the hip. Where's Willow, Michelle? You two are supposed to always be together. Where's Willow, Michelle? You're the one who always knows where she is when she's not at your side.

"What, is my company not good enough for her highness?" At Max's blank stare, Michelle snorted, "she's dancing with El."

"Aw no." Daisy sighed, shaking her head, switching to join their conversation. "The last time those two disappeared into a dancing crowd at a party, they got invited to two threesome's, did shots with a group of frat girls who adopted them, and I'm pretty sure El broke someone's nose, but they're both being infuriatingly quiet about it." 

Michelle laughed, but she wasn't worried. Whilst the twins could be all sorts of trouble on their own, she knew it was only because they were easily likeable. Far too likeable for their own good, really. Wonderful in all the right ways. People were drawn to them, this much was true. But Michelle had something that these people didn't.

Willow went home with Michelle at the end of the night, always.

Not like that, obviously. No, they were just best friends. More than best friends, really. In the utmost platonic sense. Soulmates, Michelle would go as far to say. And Willow chose to leave with Michelle every single time. She got propositions whenever they went out anywhere, but she always, without fail, chose Michelle. 

Maybe Michelle should feel guilty at the sick sense of pride and possessiveness she got from that, but she literally could not bring herself to. Time and time again, she came first to Willow. So fuck all the people who tried, honestly. 

"No, she definitely broke someone's nose." Max grinned. "And they deserved it, too. Some girl from Lucy's basketball team being plain homophobic. Asshole." 

Michelle twisted her nose up, frowning. Willow hadn't told her about that. "The fuck?" 

"What, really?" Lucy said, sitting up straighter. "Who?" 

Shrugging, Max plucked the joint from the guy beside her's fingers. "No clue. I might know more than you guys, but I don't know everything." 

Michelle's frown deepened. Why hadn't Willow told her about this? Michelle would ask her about it later - make sure she's okay. It was laughable that people were still homophobic. Michelle wasn't gay, but she couldn't fathom the thought of thinking queer people were wrong. Lucy and Max, clinging to each other beside her. Love in the purest form. Her best friend's since childhood, who loved each other loudly. It was beautiful. And Willow. Beautiful, perfect Willow, who always put others before herself, who treated people with kindness until they were far past the line of deserving it, who kept her cards so close to her chest because of assholes like that, spewing homophobic ideals until they rotted Willow's golden soul. Lonnie tried to ruin the sweet girl, but Willow was the bravest person Michelle knew.

With perfectly kissable lips that other girls are often interested in.

Objectively. From an unbiased third party. 

"If they're homophobic," Lucy said, commanding attention, "they shouldn't be on the team. Not with half of the girls being queer and the other half fighting in our corner all of the time. We're a team, and I won't stand for that shit." 

This is why Lucy was the perfect captain, and why nobody ever had a bad word to say against her. 

"I'll ask Willow." Michelle said to Lucy, "see if I can find out who. Only if you promise to throw a basketball at their head before you kick them off." 

"Duh." Lucy replied, but she grinned in appreciation. 

For a while, they kept to their own little bubble in the corner. People came and went from conversations, Daisy kept leaping up to go and chat to someone new before circling back, and it was nice. Much more Michelle's vibe than the boisterous dancers consuming the rest of the floor. 

Speaking of, Michelle decided it had been far too long since she'd seen Willow. She'd been keeping track of her bobbing brown head of hair for a while, but had lost her after looking away a moment too long, which wasn't acceptable. She departed from her friends with relative haste, realising how much more drunk she'd gotten in the time she'd been sitting down. 

Michelle used her height to her advantage, peering across the expanse of the space and knowing with certainty every single brown haired girl that wasn't Willow. She kept circling, only pausing briefly to help El hop down from a counter where she'd been trying to grab a figurine of a unicorn with a frog on it's back. 

"Where's Willow?" 

El just shrugged as she slipped her new find into pocket, half of it poking out the top. "She left me a while ago. Said she was going to find you." 

Michelle wanted to preen like a peacock, but she kept it cool, because that meant Willow was somewhere looking for her. "She left on her own?" 

"I don't know, Chelle." El whined petulantly, pouting. "You're asking so many questions!" 

Rolling her eyes, Michelle moved to allow El to get around her. "Alright, whatever, you thief. Go find the others."

Once El had bounced off, Michelle continued her search, a little more frantic now that she knew Willow was looking for Michelle as well. There was a very high chance that they were both looking very stupid in their aimless wandering. 

It was only once Michelle had done three more laps that she saw her, leaning against a wall with the quiet confidence that Willow carried so well. Radiant. Michelle smiled to herself in relief, gaze honed in on Willow, before finally, reluctantly, dragging her eyes to where Willow's attention was directed to. 

She stopped short. 

Willow was talking to a girl. Willow looked invested in talking to this girl. That's.. odd. Perfectly normal and totally fine and odd. Not odd that someone was interested in Willow - no, most people were interested in Willow. She was interesting to look at and even more interesting to talk to. That, Michelle could advocate most for. She's spent fifteen years being interested in Willow. Michelle's philosophy was that in any given room, Willow was always the most interesting person there. And sure, other people were allowed to think so too, but Michelle would always be number one in that category. She was practically the founder of it. 

And in any case, this girl didn't look like she'd be able to live up to the standards that Michelle had set. Actually, matter of fact, the longer Michelle stared, the more she vaguely recognised this girl. Long dark hair, dramatically styled in a big blowout, filipino, a jersey with a big number 22 plastered on it - oh shit.

Charity Lawson. 

A girl from Lucy's basketball team; one of her friends, actually. Michelle didn't know a whole lot about her, because she tended to tune out when Lucy sang her basketball friends' praises, but from what Michelle could vaguely remember, Charity was somewhat of a 'heart throb'. Michelle wrinkled her nose. Gross. 

Michelle watched as Charity seemed to enrapture Willow with her words - far too many words, if Michelle had something to say about it. She didn't like that this playgirl jock was just talking at Willow, as though Willow was supposed to just listen to everything she had to say about herself for the rest of the night. Like, Michelle had lots of things to say to Willow, she always wanted to talk to Willow, but at least she was engaging. At least she knew Willow wanted to listen to her - otherwise they wouldn't have been Best Friends Capitalised for fifteen whole years. 

Michelle blinked herself out of her glum ruminating when she saw Charity pull out her phone. What, was she going to just go on her phone in the middle of a conversation? That was so weird - Michelle needed to save Willow immediately and put this whole thing to rest. 

Well, that was her plan, until she saw Charity hand Willow the phone. Willow had a soft, shy smile on her face, eyes alight as she typed something in before handing it back to a far too pleased looking Charity. 

Oh.

What the fuck?

Did Willow just give this girl her number?! Like, her real iPhone phone number. The same one she only had 17 contacts on, and two of them were El and El's burner phone she kept hidden from Hop. What the fuck?!

Charity grinned up at Willow, leaning a little too close, and Michelle had to stand there and watch as Willow's cheeks flushed pink. She laughed softly before pushing Charity with a playful shove. Fury swam unbridled into Michelle's chest. 

She waited until Charity had walked away, glancing once, twice, three times back over her shoulder, before she stormed right up to Willow. 

As per usual, Willow's eyes drifted over to Michelle before she could even announce herself. She lit up, pushing herself off the wall. "Micha!" She exclaimed once Michelle was close enough, "did you see that? That girl just-,"

"Are you going to text her back?" Michelle demanded, only feeling a little guilty when Willow's smile dropped into confusion. 

"What? I mean, yeah. Probably. That's kind of the whole reason I gave her my number." 

"Well, I really don't think you should." 

Willow's eyebrows furrowed, staring at Michelle like this was something out of Michelle's ordinary personality. Like she was being unreasonable. Michelle was being perfectly reasonable, thank you very much. "Micha, what?" 

"I just mean - she's a jock, Wills. She plays basketball!" 

Now Willow looked really baffled. "Yeah, Mimi, I know. Funnily enough, I've been to Lucy's games before." 

Michelle huffed. "People who play basketball can't be trusted! That's like, rule number one." 

"Lucy plays basketball." Willow said, folding her arms.

"Lucy should not be trusted!" 

"We've trusted her for fifteen years!" 

"Okay, but would you date Lucy?" 

Willow blinked, a smile tugging at her lips now. "Well-," 

"Don't answer that." Michelle cut in. "I just- I get an evil vibe from that girl. And you know me and my gut intuition." 

"Your gut intuition is terrible." Willow was smirking, and Michelle was getting really distracted by it. "Seriously, Micha, you've never been right with a gut intuition." 

Michelle flailed her arms. "Well, I am this time!" Sighing, Michelle leaned in a bit closer to Willow, imploring. Willow accommodated automatically, staring up at her with wide, trusting hazel eyes. Michelle lowered her tone when she spoke next. "I really don't want you to call her, Wills."

There was a prolonged moment where they just stared at each other, and Michelle wasn't thinking about anything else. The music, the people, stupid fucking Charity. It was just Willow and Michelle, as it always had been. 

Eventually, Willow sighed, giving into Michelle's demands as she always seemed to do - as Michelle always did for her. "Okay, Mimi. I won't call her." 

The world snapped back into place. Michelle's shoulders dropped in relief, and she was struggling to hold back a blinding grin. "Yes," she breathed, "thank you." 

Willow rolled her eyes, but she didn't look annoyed. "Whatever, weirdo. Will you dance with me then?" 

Michelle scrunched her nose up. "I don't dance. I've literally been classified as a hazard."

"I don't care." Willow laughed, reached down to grab Michelle's hand. "Please?" 

Michelle gave in embarrassingly fast.

____________________

Michelle and Willow were sprawled across their couch the next day, nursing hangovers and doing a re-run of Brooklyn 99, when Willow's phone lit up. It had been discarded between them, and they both glanced at it when it flashed. Michelle, attempting to be subtle but likely failing miserably, leaned forward slightly to read the notification.

Unknown Number: Hey, it's Charity from last night. Is this Willow? ;)

Ugh. A winky face. Who was this girl?

Nervously, Michelle watched as Willow picked up the phone. Her heart drummed against her chest, but Willow was keeping the phone slightly angled in Michelle's direction, as if she wanted Michelle to see what she was doing. 

She deleted the message. 

Michelle's eyes flew up to Willow's face in shock, but Willow didn't look at her. Just chucked the phone back down and re-focused on their TV. Michelle stared at her for another moment or two, before a slow smile spread across her lips. She eased back into the couch, feeling victorious for a reason she couldn't discern. She pushed her feet under Willow's lap, settled at the notion that it was just her and Willow, alone in their apartment, and Willow wasn't thinking about anyone outside of these walls.

Anyone but Michelle. 

____________________

3. 

Michelle was sulking. 

They were both pretending she wasn't; Michelle was pretending for the sake of her dignity, and Willow was pretending because she couldn't be bothered to address Michelle's mood, but they were both well aware of the fact that Michelle was definitely, one hundred percent sulking. 

She knew it was dumb and stupid and petulant too. Michelle had never claimed to not be self aware. She also hadn't claimed to be good at not making her mood's other people's problems. So, here she was, making it Willow's problem.

Realistically, if anyone in this world is well adapted to take on Michelle's mood swings, it's firstly Willow, and then maybe her mom. But definitely Willow first. She did this one thing that always made Michelle cave and recede from being a bitch:

She ignored her.

She waited Michelle's moods out with sass-fuelled patience and a constant undercurrent of you look like child right now written across her face, and Michelle was always inclined to make sure Willow thought well of her. It was literally programmed in her dna to piss Willow off and then trip over herself for days to fix it. That was how they worked. Seeing Willow annoyed, or frustrated, or god forbid hurt, especially when Michelle was the culprit, made her literally want to kill herself. 

Michelle was rude and abrasive and had a sharp tongue. But she always, without fail, would fold at one slight furrow of Willow's eyebrows. 

Maybe it was a byproduct of being best friends for so long. Maybe it was because Willow had been through so much and the idea of adding to that made Michelle feel physically sick. And that's why she knew that when Willow, sitting at their kitchen table on a calm Tuesday evening, decided to finally address Michelle's bad mood, Michelle was under legal obligation bound by her heart to drop whatever grudge she was holding.

"Are seriously mad at me for downloading Tinder?"

A perfectly reasonable grudge, by the way.

Michelle huffed, sinking further into her seat and shovelling a forkful of pasta into her mouth with passive aggressive haste. "No," she murmured. Willow raised her eyebrows at the display, so Michelle swallowed her food before continuing, "I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway."

Willow blinked. "Then at who?" 

"At Max and El, mostly!" Michelle did not whine, despite what her mother and her sister and her friends said, but if she was going to whine, now would be a completely understandable time to do so. 

Willow delicately put her own fork down, her pencil laying upon her notebook long since discarded from where she'd initially been doodling as they ate. She sat up a bit straighter and narrowed her eyes; Michelle wanted to slouch further in her seat, but she forced herself not to. 

"Why would you be mad at them?" 

"Because - because," Michelle paused, fighting for words that didn't sound childish, "because they're the ones who forced you to download it!" 

"Okay, they didn't force me, Micha. I agreed to it." Willow's tone was calm, but her eyes were judgy. Michelle grumbled under her breath. "Speak up, Michelle." 

"I said that they were being pushy. Like, why do you even need Tinder?!" Michelle flailed her arms, nearly knocking her cup over, which would've been awful because then it could've spilt all over Willow's sketchbook, and Michelle would never forgive herself if she ruined even a faint line on that thing. 

"I don't need it," Willow corrected, rolling her eyes and reaching forward to nudge Michelle's drink a few inches out of flail-range, "and they weren't being pushy. They're just sick of me not having any updates to bring to our matcha dates." 

Michelle shovelled another forkful of pasta in her mouth, chomping on it grumpily. "What, so they think you're too boring for them so they forced you to start talking to rando's on the internet?! That's - that's.. that's so unsafe! Have they never heard of internet safety? Where were they in fifth grade?!" 

"You're so dramatic." Willow spoke through a laugh, pushing herself up from the table and grabbing her empty bowl. Michelle shovelled the last few mouthfuls of her pasta and hastened to follow. "And I told you, they didn't force me." 

Michelle hip-nudged Willow out of the way once she reached the sink, taking the sponge from her hands and beginning to wash up as she continued her tirade, "I mean what did they think, really? That you were gonna sit on your phone all day, scrolling through terrible options of women who couldn't fulfil you for the rest of your life?" 

Laughing and shaking her head with amusement, Willow said, "Yeah, I guess they did." 

Michelle frowned at the soapy water, putting the rinsed bowls on the drying rack. She knew Max had always been evil, but El? Really? Michelle would be having serious words.

"And anyway," Willow pressed on, hopping up on the counter to sit with Michelle as she worked, "what do you know about fulfilment, Micha?" She teased, her hair draping over her shoulders and flowing when she moved. 

"Um, excuse me I know plenty about fulfiment." 

"Sure." Willow huffed, grinning. Suddenly her eyes lit up. Michelle watched, transfixed. "Okay, if you know so much, why don't you help me look through the options, Mrs Fulfiment?"

Michelle pouted, but nevertheless she removed her hands from the water and flicked off the remaining suds. "You're being sarcastic but I'm being for real, Wills. And fine. Where's your phone." 

Willow's responding grin was victorious. 

Michelle grabbed Willow's phone from the coffee table in the living room under Willow's directions, before returning to the kitchen, scooching into the open space between Willow's legs as her best friend opened up stupid tinder. 

As if Willow was going to find her soulmate on this dumb app, with these dumb options. Willow needed someone much more in tuned to her. Someone who knew her inside out and appreciated her in spite of her flaws. The few she did have. Very, very few. In fact, she didn't really have any. Not that Michelle could think of, anyway. And Michelle would know, since she's been Willow's best friend for years and years, and that wasn't going to change. No random tinder girl could come in and take Michelle's spot. Michelle would never let that happen.

They flicked through some of the options, and Michelle was frankly disgusted. Luckily, Willow didn't look too appealed at some of them either. They kept swiping, and it wasn't long before Willow paused, considering. 

Michelle looked down at the phone, narrowing her eyes. "Are you serious?" 

Willow blinked at her, phone angled in Michelle's direction. "Um, yeah? She seems nice and look, it says one of her interests is D&D!" 

"Okay?" Michelle scoffed, resenting the idea of anyone joining their party. It just didn't work like that. They had a tight knit group and Michelle didn't want anything to change. "But Wills, her photos are clearly taken with an android!" 

There was a beat where Willow didn't say anything, staring at Michelle in abject confusion. Her bangs moved with her eyelashes slightly when she blinked. Michelle noticed. "Okay? So?" 

"So," Michelle emphasised, plucking the phone from Willow's hands. Willow let her. "You can't swipe yes!" 

"Mimi, you're being dumb." Willow rolled her eyes, reaching for the phone. Michelle held it out of her reach. "I couldn't give less of a fuck if she has an android! And neither should you, you snob! Give me that." 

Michelle moved her arm further, ignoring Willow's glare. "I'm just saying that anyone I've ever met with an android has been, like, a closet weirdo. Who hates joy." 

Willow dropped her arms with an exaggerated movement, thunking her head against the cupboards behind her as she slumped back. Michelle frowned and reached forward to place her hand on the back of Willow's head and stroke it carefully. "Oh my god, I used to have an android, Micha. When I couldn't afford an iPhone." 

"Well not you, obviously." Michelle corrected, sitting Willow up gently. Willow allowed herself to be pulled away from the cupboard. "But, like. Daisy." 

"Shut up, Micha." Willow scoffed, shoving Michelle on the shoulder gently to push her away, hopping off the counter. 

"I'm just saying!" Michelle exclaimed, trailing after Willow on her journey to the living room, nipping at her heels. "It's a very real possibility! You never know how many android users with bad intentions are out there, Wills. It happens! You just shouldn't go on a date with her. Keep yourself safe and all." 

Willow paused, spinning around and studying Michelle. Michelle let it happen. They stood there in silence, toe to toe in their living room. Willow blinked up at her. Michelle's heart thumped faster. Because she was nervous about Willow's answer, of course. 

Eventually, Willow exhaled and the tension dropped. Michelle immediately grinned, knowing the signs of victory. 

"Oh my god, stop grinning like that. You're so annoying." Willow complained. Michelle couldn't wipe the grin off her face if she tried. She tugged Willow down onto the couch and, as usual, Willow let herself be manoeuvred by Michelle's gentle hands. 

Michelle was riding the high of her win for the rest of the evening. 

She watched Willow delete the app the next day. 

____________________

4. 

It was the first relatively warm day of the year and Willow, deciding they should utilise the weather, told Michelle that they should stop procrastinating and finally go to the thrift store to grab some bits for their apartment. It wasn't undecorated, per se, but most of their shoddy decorating was done with things brought from home, and if Michelle could attest to the decoration being more pretty, then she knew it probably made Willow cringe everytime she acknowledged it. Willow was an artist at heart, and if the palette wasn't to her taste, then Michelle was going to get her whatever she wanted and tell her to go crazy. 

As much as it was their space, their apartment, Michelle knew her place as the provider to Willow's artistic direction. That's why she slipped Willow's purse out of her bag before they left. Obviously. 

The walk to the closest thrift store wasn't too long, but Willow insisted the one across town was better, so that's where they headed. Michelle decided the sun was perfect on Willow - it always was, but here, in Chicago and far from Hawkins, Willow was thriving much more. She looked at home, like she was bathing in the light, like the sun had found her. 

Michelle kept asking her questions just so she had an excuse to look at Willow. Even if it made her trip or almost walk into things several times. 

Willow lit up when they arrived. Michelle grabbed a cart and told Willow she'd follow her wherever she wanted to go. 

"Okay, well we should start in the home section of course, but remind me not to get too much because I also want to get you a new hoodie." 

Michelle smiled to herself, pushing the cart behind Willow, watching her eyes roam the shelves with careful inspection. "Oh, you mean another hoodie you can steal?" 

Willow flushed, but she sniffed haughtily. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I'm sure you don't." Michelle hummed. They were both well aware of the fact that Michelle did not mind one bit. Sometimes, after a bad nightmare, the worst kind, where Willow couldn't stop trembling and hiccuping little heart-wrenching sobs, Michelle would delicately strip Willow out of her sweaty clothes and wrap her up in one of Michelle's own hoodies. Whichever one she'd been wearing most recently, unwashed. It always seemed to calm Willow down. 

Michelle didn't think too much about why. Just kept doing it. Whatever Willow needed.

They pursued the shelves, with Willow placing things gently in the cart every now and then. No matter how many times Michelle told her not to worry, Willow was constantly checking the price, worrying her pretty lips between her teeth. 

"Wills, c'mon. Just put them in the cart." 

"Micha, it's twenty three dollars. For two mugs! I just - we can't spend that much on something we don't need." 

"Yes, we literally can." Michelle deadpanned. Michelle would buy Willow fifty mugs if she wanted them. "My mug has, like, three chips in it, and yours is one that has a J on the front because you stole it from Jonathan. I think we're long overdue some new mugs. Besides, those ones are pretty." 

Willow's eyes flickered down to the mugs in her hand, and Michelle knew she was giving in. "I know they're pretty, that's why I picked them up. But I just - I'm not sure if..." 

When Willow trailed off, Michelle took initiative. She stepped into the role she always took when she saw Willow crushing under her own worry. She gently took the mugs from Willow's hands and placed them in the cart. Willow continued to stare at them with furrowed brows, like she was debating their place. "Wills," Michelle called, in her specific Willow voice, to get her best friend's attention, "it's okay. Seriously. We can spend twenty three dollars on new mugs. It's okay." 

Willow inhaled, searching Michelle's face. After a moment, her shoulders dropped. "Yeah, okay. Okay." 

Michelle's smile stretched across her face, and she gently nudged Willow's hip with the cart. "Onwards, m'lady." 

With a mock glare in Michelle's direction, Willow moved forward. They took their time exploring the shelves, coming up with names and backstories for the people in the paintings, or guessing which kind of people would have owned the different artifacts before they ended up in the thrift. 

Willow spoke through her giggles, "Okay what about this one then?" She held up a miniature tarantula figurine, smoking a pipe with evil-looking eyebrows. Michelle burst out laughing at the sight of it next to Willow's sunny smile. 

"What the hell is that?" Michelle cackled, "that was definitely some creep who lived in their mother's attic. Who, like, collects spiders in jars and hides them under the floorboards to inspect when he's alone." 

Willow nodded frantically, giggling all the while. "Yes. And he'd sit in front of a grandfather clock and pretend he's an evil mastermind whilst petting this figurine like it's his evil cat sidekick." 

Michelle laughed loudly, too loud in the quiet of the thrift store. What with their messing around, they didn't notice the stranger approaching, hovering awkwardly behind Willow.

The stranger cleared her throat and Willow jumped, spinning around to face the girl. 

"Oh, hi, sorry are we in your way?" Willow asked, immediately shuffling to the side. Michelle glared at the stranger. 

"No no, you're not!" The stranger gushed, flapping her hands frantically as though she was trying to take the idea right out of Willow's brain telepathically. "Sorry, I'm, um. This might be kind of weird but.. I just wanted to say you're one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen." 

Immediately, Willow's entire face flushed pink and her posture became more shy, more guarded. Nonetheless, she was smiling - a soft little quirk of the mouth. 

"Oh, thank you. I'm Willow." 

The strangers grin changed from nervous to delightful. Michelle almost scoffed out loud. Who was she to just come over and interrupt her and Willow's day out? Where they were clearly having fun, just the two of them. Now, Michelle was standing here grumpily whilst this random girl stole her best friend's attention. Obviously Willow was the prettiest girl this rando had ever seen - that didn't mean she had to interrupt them just to tell her that! 

"I'm Lacy." 

Michelle studied Lacy. She was pretty enough, sure. Simple next to Willow, but everyone looked underwhelming in comparison to Michelle's best friend. It was never even a competition. She had sharp features, not unlike Michelle's own, but the girl had a lighter colour palette going on than Michelle did. That wouldn't do for Willow; as an artist, she would want someone contrasting and complimentary by her side. This girls aesthetic would never fit with Willow's own.

Skimming her eyes down, Michelle narrowed in on Lacy's jeans and - oh god. Skinny. She was wearing skinny jeans! That was a crime upon fashion, especially if she was trying to pull someone with as much styling detail as Willow. Worse still that the jeans were ripped a little at the knees - seriously, did this girl walk straight out of 2012 to hit on Michelle's best friend in the home section of their local thrift store?! 

The girl's eyes dropped to their cart and zeroed in on the mugs they picked up earlier. The mugs for Willow and Michelle. "They're really nice. They definitely fit your vibe." 

"Thanks." Willow smiled shyly, "I wasn't going to get them at first, but.." Willow glanced at Michelle like she wanted to include her in the conversation, but her smile became a little more hesitant when she saw the stormy look decorating Michelle's expression. "Um." 

"Well, I think they're lovely!" Stupid Lacy jumped in, clearly not sensing the shift in the vibe. "It's a good job you kept them!" 

"Yeah, thanks." Michelle said icily, finally catching the girl's attention. She stared at Michelle with a blank smile, a little awkward. Willow's eyes darted between the two. "They're for our apartment."

"Oh! You guys live together?" 

Michelle hummed flatly. "We do." 

It seemed Lacy was finally catching onto Michelle's distaste. She stumbled over her next sentence, "oh, um, are you guys...?" 

"Yeah." Michelle lied, although was it technically lying when Lacy didn't finish her sentence? She could've been about to say anything. Michelle was just agreeing to an open-ended assumption. That wasn't lying. Just omitting the truth. Willow's jaw dropped open as she stared at Michelle.

The girl's face flushed in embarrassment. "God, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise. I'll just - um. Sorry. Have a good day!" She squeaked, before hurrying off. 

Michelle watched her and her stupid skinny jeans retreat away with a sense of satisfaction, turning back to the shelves and picking up a clock in the shape of a sunflower. "Do you think El would like this?" 

"Michelle, what the hell was that?!" 

Michelle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at Willow's hushed, angry whisper. "What?" 

"What do you mean what?!" Willow asked in disbelief, "You were so rude to Lacy! And you lied to her!" 

"No I didn't." Said Michelle, putting the sunflower clock down and pushing the cart onwards. Willow stomped after her,

"Yes, you did. We're not together, Micha! And regardless, you were still rude!"

"First of all, she never asked if she were together. She didn't finish her question. She could've been asking anything, I just filled in the blank for her." Willow looked as though she was genuinely contemplating slapping Michelle, so Michelle knew she needed to redeem herself quickly, "plus, she was wearing skinny jeans, Wills, she didn't deserve my niceties." 

Willow gaped, speechless. Michelle stood there scuffing her feet on the floor, stubborn as ever. 

"Oh. Oh my god. I can't believe you right now, Michelle. You're - that's insane!" Willow spoke through gritted teeth. Michelle's stomach dropped. She hated when Willow was angry with her. "I'm going to go find Lacy and apologise for your actions, and I'm gonna tell her we're not together because she was nice and I want to give her a chance." 

Willow spun on her heel, true to her word. Michelle reached out and grabbed Willow's wrist, halting her after a single step. "Don't." 

Willow inhaled a deep, calculated breath. "Michelle, you can't-," 

"Willow. I'm asking you not to. Please." 

Her best friend fell silent, contemplative. Michelle gently tightened her grip, half worried Willow was going to keep to her promise and walk away from her. Was going to leave Michelle behind for someone else. 

With a hurt expression, Willow began speaking, tone lowered from before, "Mimi, you keep doing this and I - I don't know what..." 

Michelle's face became pinched. Her thumb started abesnt-mindedly stroking over Willow's pulse point on her wrist, soothing the ache she'd unknowingly caused. "I know. I know, okay? Just - I really don't want you to. I don't want to ask too much of you, Wills. But I'm going to ask you now. Please stay with me." 

Willow looked like she was lopping through layers of memories, anything to decode Michelle's intentions. She knew Willow wouldn't be able to, because even Michelle didn't know why she kept doing this. Kept asking Willow to trust her, to never leave. Excuse after dumb excuse, Willow agreed. Michelle didn't know where Willow's line was, but she feared she was nearing it after each instance. Getting closer to Willow's breaking point.

Michelle sincerely hoped this wasn't it.

A tense minute of contemplation later, and Willow spoke again. Whispered. "I'm not going anywhere, Michelle." 

Everything in Michelle wanted to droop with thick relief at the words. She exhaled all of the jittering tension that had been bubbling in her ribcage. "Thank you." 

Willow nodded, slipping her wrist out of Michelle's grip. "Okay then. I think we have enough. Let's look at the hoodies and get out of here. Back home."

Home. Michelle and Willow's place - their home. It sounded so right. It sounded perfect. 

Michelle nodded frantically. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go." 

Fifteen minutes later, Michelle was carrying their bags of things out the door and back into the sunshine as Willow complained about Michelle taking her purse out of her bag. The complaints were half-hearted, and Michelle didn't regret a thing. Her answering grin said as much. 

They unpacked their things at home. Willow busied herself with finding a new place for each of their purchases, delicate with her choices. Michelle made them both a drink in their new mugs, bowing in front of Willow as she presented it to her. Willow giggled and accepted the drink with a fond eyeroll.

Home, Michelle thought. Her home was wherever Willow was. 

____________________

5. 

For as much as Michelle and Max complained about one another and bickered, they were pretty attached at the hip. They'd deny it if anyone told them, and it was certainly moreso Willow, Max and El who were closer, where Michelle found her solace in Lucy and Daisy, but Max and Michelle found a similarity in one another that brought them together in a peace treaty. 

Most of the time, they weren't even talking. Max would come over to 'borrow' (read: steal) Michelle's playstation whilst Michelle finished her work, before joining her on the playstation where they'd usually end up roughhousing and bitching until Willow returned and they both diverted their attention to her. 

Michelle was slouched on her desk, long since having given up with studying and instead mind-numbingly fiddling with her rubix as Max occupied herself with taking up Michelle's bed and complaining about the girl who lives next door and plays no other music except for the Hamilton soundtrack. 

"Like, obviously the sound track is fucking great. But that should not be your study music for three months straight, four hours at a time. I can't listen to Lin Manuel Miranda say shot one more time, Wheeler, I actually cannot. And I've tried telling her to shut the fuck up, but she just called me an uncultured swine. How is it uncultured to not want to listen to Hamilton seven days of the week, at 2am or even 6am?! So, anyway, I found her Instagram and I've decided we're going to start slipping terribly edited pictures of her under her door each day as revenge." 

"Wait, why am I involved?" Michelle complained. 

"Because I need someone to throw the blame onto if we get caught. Besides, every evil gay needs a more evil gay by her side." 

Michelle's brows furrowed and she sat up immediately. Max looked confused at the sudden shift. "I'm not gay?" 

This time, it was Max who flung herself upwards, eyes widening comically. "What? Yes you are." 

"No, Max, I'm not. Why would you assume that?!" Michelle frantically shook her head, staring in abstract horror. 

Max looked equally horrified. "I thought you came out to us years ago!" 

"Literally when?!" 

Max scooted further towards the end of the bed, closer to Michelle, as if her confusion wouldn't let her keep still. Michelle herself had lent over the back over her desk chair, knees folded underneath her as they stared at each other with life-altering realisation.

Michelle? Gay? When had she ever given anyone that impression?! 

"When you said the words, I want to spend the rest of my life with a girl maybe?!" Max exclaimed, gesturing wildly. 

"Because I do." Michelle spluttered. There was nothing gay about that statement! She was more so thinking about her and Willow being roommates forever. She couldn't imagine not living with Willow, replacing her with some random guy who didn't have pretty brown eyes or delicate artist hands or sunshine radiating from every pore. "Why would I want to spend it with a man?!" 

"I don't know, you're asking the wrong girl! I thought you were in love with Willow!" 

Michelle's rapidly beating heart came to a nauseating halt. "Wh-what makes you think that?" Michelle. In love with Willow. Her best friend. Huh. 

"You're constantly talking about her." 

Michelle spluttered. Her hands were trembling, masked by her white-knuckled grip on the chair. "She's my best friend!" 

Max raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Well, you're always looking at her lips." 

Michelle was always looking at Willow's lips - but wasn't everyone? "They're very pink!" 

Now, Max was staring at Michelle as if she was downright stupid. "You literally get insanely jealous whenever someone asks her out." 

"Because none of them are good enough for her!" God, was it a crime to want the best for her best friend?! 

"Yeah?" Max questioned, and now she looked like she was scheming. Michelle hated that look because it was always directed at Michelle. "So who is good enough for Willow?" 

Michelle only had to think about it for two seconds. "Someone who knows her inside and out. Someone who can read her face like a book because she hardly says what she's thinking, but she's always thinking. Someone who knows how to comfort her when she wakes up from her nightmares, because they know exactly what the nightmare was about based on her screaming, or her arm flails, or her posture. Someone who would pay for everything for her, because she deserves to be treated like a princess and she grew up not expecting to get anything nice ever because of how little money her family had, so now she should be spoiled. Someone who appreciates her artwork with as much devotion as it deserves, because she's the most talented person ever. Someone who knows what to order for her wherever they go. Someone who would never, ever hesitate to pick her out of a crowd. Someone who can always find her in the crowd."

Michelle's breath was heavy as she spieled; her thoughts were simply Willow, Willow, Willow.

Max went very silent. The deliberate kind of silent. She seemed to be taking it all in, staring at Michelle as if Michelle was supposed to arrive to the next step on her own. Once they'd both stewed in the aching quiet for a minute too long, Max spoke with more softness than she'd ever given Michelle before. 

"Someone like.. you?" 

Someone like Michelle. Did Michelle want to be that person? Obviously not. She wasn't gay. But if she was gay, she'd pick Willow, always. If she was gay, obviously she'd want to spend the rest of her life with Willow. If she was gay, she'd never hesitate to give Willow everything she could ever want - everything Willow deserves. And really, now that Michelle is thinking about it, she kind of already does that. She does more than that. But that's because it's Willow. Everyone should always be stumbling over themselves to rush to Willow's side. Everyone should be just as devoted to Willow's happiness as Michelle is. Because that's what Willow deserves. The whole entire universe. 

But.. Michelle doesn't want everyone to be just as devoted as she is. She doesn't want anyone else to be at Willow's side, ever. That was Michelle's place. Michelle should be the only person dedicating her life to providing Willow with everything she needed. She should be the only protector that Willow wanted, because she'd do such a perfect job that no one else would ever need to step into that position. She should be the one one who truly, truly knew and understood Willow. Inside and out. And she did.

She did. 

Because Michelle loved her.

Michelle loved Willow.

Oh fuck. 

Michelle loved Willow.

Michelle is so so gay. For Willow.

"Holy shit," Michelle gasped, her vision going blurry. "I'm gay for Willow!" 

Max laughed, a little breathless and giddy, now up on her knees in an imitation of Michelle. "Well no. You're gay and you want Willow." 

Michelle nodded along mindlessly. "Holy shit. I'm gay and I'm in love with Willow!"

"Obviously, Wheeler!" Max exclaimed sarcastically, but her elated smile gave her away. "Oh my god how did you only just realise?!" 

Michelle did not have an answer for that. It was like saying it out loud had given her a new lens of eyes, and her hindsight was way above 20/20. All those moments of reaching out for Willow, always reaching, always checking, telling herself they were best friends so obviously it was normal to want to be close. All those times where something mundane would happen to Michelle, and all she was thinking was I can't wait to tell Willow about this. All those times where others had hit on Willow, and Michelle felt like she had to bare her teeth like a guard dog before dropping at her owner's feet and pleading for affection for scaring the competitor off.  

It was crystal clear, and this was not recent. If Michelle thought enough - and she was, spiralling back on years worth of memories - she knew she'd probably been in love with Willow for a very, very long time. 

Like, forever maybe.

Holy shit.

"I have to-," Michelle scrambled up off her chair, tripping over her own legs but catching herself before she crashed to the floor. Max raised with her despite Michelle not having finished her sentence. "I have to go to Willow." 

Max immediately whooped. "Yeah you fuckin' do!" She grabbed Michelle's discarded jacket off the bed and chucked it at her. Michelle's shaky hands scrambled to catch it in time. "Go go go!" 

"Yeah - yeah. I'm going. Holy fuck, I'm going to tell Willow that I love her!" 

"Damn straight! Or - no. Not really." Max laughed at her own joke, but Michelle could hear very little past the rhythmic pounding of her own heart in her ears. She felt giddy. She felt like everything finally made sense. She felt the words crawling up her throat again and again and again, and she needed to tell Willow. Like, fifteen years ago.

She hastily shoved her jacket on and slipped into her beaten up converse before throwing a bye Max! See you later! over her shoulder as she sprinted out of her dorm to go and find Willow.

To tell Willow that she loved her. 

Michelle was in love with Willow Byers. 

____________________

+1

It was raining.

It was raining and Michelle Wheeler needed to tell Willow Byers she loved her.

Two facts, equally as true. 

The hammering of Michelle's heart was thrumming just as hard and fast as the pelts of rain descending upon the floor. She was trembling with just as much exertion as the clouds. Her writer's brain was concocting metaphors as she sprinted, something about the clouds bubbling over with rain after being repressed until explosion, much like Michelle's own feelings, but she couldn't put the pieces of the sentence together. Not in the state she was in. 

The only clear thing in her head was that she loved Willow.

Michelle's best friend Willow. Michelle's... everything, Willow. 

Oh god, where was she?! 

Michelle had looked everywhere by now; their apartment, their cafe, Willow's studio's and her lecture halls, El's and Max's lecture halls, the library. Willow was nowhere. And this was a very big problem, because Michelle needed to see Willow. Immediately.

Even though Michelle thought this was important enough to sprint about in the rain and get sick for, she realised her search was proving to be aimless, so she turned back for their apartment. She could pace around anxiously in there and await Willow's arrival.  

The rain kept coming, harder and harder. Michelle hadn't seen anything about a storm coming - she'd been caught completely off-guard. She hadn't seen a lot of things coming today, actually. 

The closer Michelle got to their apartment, the more she realised she hadn't even planned what she was going to say. Oh god - what if this fucked everything up? What if Willow had never even thought about Michelle like that? If Willow had feelings for Michelle, and she'd always known she was lesbian, wouldn't she have said if she'd ever had feelings for Michelle?

The honest answer was probably not. Willow kept her cards close to her chest, even with Michelle. Luckily, Michelle could read her, but what if, all along, Michelle hadn't been searching for the right combination of words? What if, sometimes, that's why Willow's face became unreadable - because Michelle had been skipping whole sentences?

Again, not the time for metaphors. Michelle thundered on, pushing all of that to one side. She'd stew over the past once she'd succeeded in her present task. Finding Willow.

She turned the corner onto their street, and nearly stumbled over herself. There, up ahead, she could see a flash of green. A coat, drenched and swamping the owner. Coloured patchwork on the arms from excessive wear. 

Willow.

She looked to also be heading to their apartment, arms up in front of her in a futile attempt at stopping the rain from going in her face. This was it. Nothing else mattered - nothing else had ever mattered.

"Willow!" Michelle screeched, speeding up her pace now that she could see her best friend. The girl she loves. "Wills!" 

Willow, hearing Michelle's faint, desperate calls, spun around to squint through the rain, eyes widening in recognition when she saw Michelle. "Holy fuck, Mimi! It's raining so hard, quick, quick!" 

Willow was now stood waiting for Michelle to catch up, rocking side to side on her feet as the chill of the unstoppable rain seeped through her body. Michelle forced herself to move even faster. She pushed against the force of the rain, aching to be by Willow's side. She looked like a ray of sunlight amongst the dreary backdrop. Michelle's personal glimpse of warmth. 

Michelle reached Willow and came to an abrupt halt. Her limbs felt locked, catatonic. Willow was staring up at her in confusion, but Michelle's entire plan had slipped from her mind like an avalanche now that she was here, in front of her best friend. She was about to do something irreversible. Panic clung to her throat, but it was wrapped up in a sense of dizzying urgency. The clarity she'd been given was stark, and she needed to tell Willow. 

"Micha, what-," 

Michelle pressed her lips to Willow's. 

The tilted world that Michelle had craned her neck to adjust to, finally spun upright. Finally clicked into its natural order. 

Amongst the storm, Michelle's nerves felt electrified enough to make up for the lack of lightning. Her heart was pounding loud enough to fill the gaps of thunder. Rain droplets slipped down their face, but made it no further. It couldn't get past their point of connection. The place they met. Michelle's brain sang with the idea that not even the rain could separate them. Not even the rain could interfere with this. 

Willow made a soft, broken noise in the low space of her throat, which is the only reason Michelle urged herself backwards. She pressed their foreheads together, both girls panting into the thin space between them. Willow was looking up at Michelle, pretty brown eyes widened in shock. She flicked her eyes back and forth, back and forth, between Michelle's own.

Her voice came out hoarse when she spoke, coloured with palpable disbelief. Coated with hope she was trying to swallow back. "Mimi.. what's.. I don't understand.."

"I love you." 

If Michelle thought the world had exploded into colour when they kissed, it was the opposite now. Everything went completely and totally silent. Nothing else mattered even a little bit. Michelle didn't have the space in her mind to be concerned with the sound of the rain, or nearby cars, or the trembling cold soaking into every limb. All she could see was Willow's eyes, filling with tears. All she could hear was Willow's gasping little breaths. All she could feel was where Willow's body pressed against her own, shaking. 

Willow didn't respond right away. Her hands clung to Michelle's wrists, where Michelle was cradling her cheeks with utmost softness and delicacy. Michelle didn't worry despite the silence, because she loved Willow. There was nothing else to worry about, ever. This was the greatest gift of all. 

"I'm not expecting anything." Michelle spoke again, wiping rain water and maybe tears from underneath Willow's eyes with gentle, gentle thumbs. Continued to brush even as the task became futile, the rain unrelenting and Willow's crystal tears unstopping. "I just wanted to tell you. You're so, so loved, Wills. I think I've loved you since the very first day. The very first second. I think I was born loving you. Born just so that someone in this world could love you with so much certainty, the way you deserve. Everything I do, everything I am, is shaped by my love for you." 

Out of Willow's pretty mouth - which Michelle had kissed! - came a choked laugh, caught off guard. Michelle allowed the sound to spur her on. It wasn't difficult. If Michelle thought she usually had a lot of things to say, it was nothing compared to now. She could talk about her love for Willow for days without pause if that's what Willow wanted.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realise. I'm sorry that instead of confronting my feelings, I chased everyone else away who wanted you, because I literally felt sick at the thought of you being with anyone else, and I didn't want to admit what that meant. But I'll say it now and I'll say it forever. I love you so fucking much, Willow. I'm so in love with you and everyone knows it. I would do anything for you. I'd give you everything. If you give me a chance, I'll make sure you're loved right, every minute. I'll buy you anything you want. I'll hold you until the sun comes up and then I'll hold you even longer. I'll devote my life to you, even more than I already do. I'll work everyday to prove myself to you, to make up for the time I've wasted with us. Please, Willow. I need to show you how adored you are, how much I cherish you, thoroughly and entirely. How much I love-," 

This time, Michelle was cut off by Willow surging their lips together. This kiss was longer, hungrier. Love danced along the lines of their tongues as they crashed together. Willow's arms finally released Michelle's wrists, snaking up around her neck and filtering into Michelle's hair. When Willow pulled away, she was grinning. It was the most gorgeous sight Michelle had ever seen; Willow, kiss drunk and beaming, because of Michelle. 

"I love you too. So much. Always have. It's engraved into everything I do." Willow finally, finally responded. Michelle had to work to not collapse to the floor in relief. "Now will you shut up so we can go inside and carry this on in the warmth?" 

Michelle grinned. "Anything for my darling cleric." She grabbed Willow's hand and bowed as she pressed a kiss to the knuckles. 

"Oh my god." Willow laughed. Michelle peered up at her through her lashes. "You're such a dork. So insufferable."

"You love it." Michelle shot back, waggling her eyebrows. 

Willow's eyes softened, her grin never ceasing. "I do. I really do." She ran a soft hand through Michelle's soaking curls before tugging her upwards. "Come on then, o'paladin of mine. Show me to our quarters." 

Michelle shot up and pressed kiss after kiss to Willow's skin, starting at her cheek and working her way down as she walked them backwards to the entryway of their apartment block. She spoke in between kisses to Willow's neck, "oh, I'm gonna show you more than our quarters, baby. I'm gonna show you the world. I'm gonna show you just how far my devotion goes." 

Willow let out a giggle that turned to a groan as Michelle dug her teeth into her unmarked skin, tugging at Michelle's locks with enthusiastic vigour. Michelle was enjoying that part maybe a little too much.

It took them far too long to actually make it to their door, what with them not being able to keep their hands or mouths off each other. Now that they'd been given the green light, the coiled ball of tension was decimated, and any centimetre of space needed to be eradicated. Willow's hands were shaky as she attempted to unlock their door, her other hand thrown behind her head and in Michelle's hair, keeping her pinned to Willow's back.

"Micha, stop," Willow whined, hand slipping from the key again as Michelle pulled her coat further down to access more skin, despite moving to accommodate, "I can't focus." 

Michelle hummed against the vast expanse of skin she needed to explore to survive. "You got it, baby, I believe in you." 

"Fuck off." Huffed Willow, before finally managing to get the door open. She immediately spun around and yanked Michelle through the threshold, kicking her shoes off in the meantime. 

"Eager?" Michelle grinned teasingly, just to be annoying, despite the fact that she was discarding her own shoes and starting on her coat. Their wet, shedded clothes thumped on the floor, and they both knew that Willow was going to whine about it later, and Michelle was going to complain when she stepped in it and her socks got wet, but they were not even close to caring about it in that moment.

It didn't take long for their hands to get back on each other, drawn by a tether stronger than any sort of magnet. Michelle wrapped her hands around Willow's hips, clutching, and gently guided her backwards until her knees met the couch. Instead of flopping down onto it, Willow spun them around, shoving Michelle backwards with force.

"Oooh, bossy." Michelle waggled her eyebrows. Willow rolled her eyes before clambering onto Michelle's lap, straddling her legs. Automatically, Michelle's hands found Willow's hips again, guiding her into position and holding her steady. Her thumbs slipped underneath Willow's still soaked t-shirt, caressing the skin there and grinning in victory when she felt Willow's shudder.

Willow's own hands were exploring Michelle's shoulders, neck, chest, ribs, anywhere she could access, tonguing at the junction of her neck and shoulder. "Off." She commanded, gripping the hem of Michelle's top. "Mimi, take it off." 

Michelle ran her hands down Willow's thighs teasingly. "Ask me nicely." 

"No." Willow whined back, still tugging on the t-shirt, lips never stilling over Michelle's skin. "Take it off, now." 

"Hm, sorry. I don't hear any manners happening, princess." Michelle moved one of her hands from Willow's thighs back up to her face, running her thumb over her bottom lip. Maintaining eye contact, Willow sucked the tip of the pale thumb into her mouth, sucking earnestly. Michelle groaned, "fuuuck, sweetheart. Look so good right now. So good for me." 

Willow moaned lightly in response. In an almost subconscious movement, her hips rocked forwards, seeking friction and whining absentmindedly when she didn't receive any. Michelle decided to help her out. "Hang on, baby." She moved her hand away from Willow's mouth regretfully, mourning the pretty sight already. Oh well, they had forever left to explore. Michelle was going to have so much fun watching Willow for the rest of their lives. Instead, she curled one hand to Willow's hips again, the other reaching for the underside of her thigh, guiding her upwards. Willow followed easily, picking her leg up and instead draping it over just one of Michelle's legs now instead of both. As soon as she seated herself correctly, she threw her head back and moaned loudly. Michelle had never heard a more angelic sound in her life. 

Michelle tugged Willow's hips gently forward, encouraging. Perhaps Willow had been seeking permission, because she instantly surrendered, rocking and grinding into Michelle's thigh delightedly. "That's it, there you go, sweetheart. Keep going. Use me, c'mon." 

"Micha." Willow moaned prettily, tears clinging to her lashline.

"I'm here, I'm here. Keep going, princess." She reached for Willow's top, tugging the wet fabric over her head. The sight of Willow's slightly damp skin was everything. Michelle had never seen a prettier vision in her life. Willow's boobs, cupped perfectly in her pretty, white laced bra bounced slightly with each rock of her desperate hips. Michelle didn't waste the gift she'd been given. She attached her lips to them immediately, hands stroking up Willow's back until she found the clasp. Willow gasped as the remaining fabric became loose and slipped from her form, thrown elsewhere. Pretty as it was, it was in Michelle's way. 

Willow seemed to remember her original task, hands darting for the hem of Michelle's top again. She held it in a white-knuckled grip, anchoring herself. "I told you to take this off," she pouted, her bottom lip still gleaming with saliva from where she'd decorated Michelle's thumb. 

Michelle smirked, nipping at Willow's breast just to watch her gasp and squirm. "And I told you what you needed to do." 

Whining softly, Willow sent a stubborn glare in Michelle's direction that immediately faltered when Michelle started devotedly licking and sucking at her nipple, her other hand coming up to play with the one she was having to neglect. "Please," Willow gasped, head falling back once more, "please, Mimi, please take it off, need to see you, need to feel you, please." 

Michelle planted a last lingering kiss to Willow's breast, grinning up at the beautiful, pleading girl. "Since you asked so nicely." 

Without wasting a moment, Michelle and Willow both reached for her top, hurriedly pulling it over her head. "Yes," Willow gasped as Michelle launched the shirt over the back of the couch. "Yes, yes yes."

She shuffled forward slightly on Michelle's legs until their clothed crotches rubbed together. They both moaned simultaneously at the friction. They both did it again and again, moving into one another, chasing the pleasure. Michelle dived back for Willow's boobs, nipping, sucking, licking, tweaking, devoted to the glorious visual of them bouncing in front of her face. Fuck, how had she ever thought she was straight? It was sinful. She could start wars over Willow's boobs. She needed to take, like, seventy polaroid pictures of them from every angle and keep every single one in her wallet. She needed to announce publicly on every news channel that she was the one who got to worship Willow's perfect breasts, no one else. 

Speaking of. 

"God, Wills, all those times anyone else wanted you. Tried to take you from me. It made me so fucking mad." 

Willow's hips picked up speed. Her fingernails scraped down Michelle's back. Michelle hoped she'd have the marks for weeks. She wanted to remember with every shift that she had pleasured Willow so good she'd sunk her nails right into Michelle's skin in a desperate attempt at anchoring herself from the edge. 

"Yeah?" Willow's response was breathy, unfocused. 

Michelle nodded against her skin, finishing the mark she was biting into Willow's collarbone before answering. "Yeah. Fuck yes. None of them were good enough for you. I couldn't stand watching them think they were entitled to you. Thinking they could ever deserve you." 

It took a second for Willow to respond, rutting earnestly against Michelle. The friction was delicious; Michelle never wanted it to end, but she needed to watch Willow fall apart on her new throne. "You - your reasons. Every time. So fucking dumb, Mimi." Her words came out stilted, like she couldn't focus her attention on stringing together a sentence. 

"I know. I just couldn't have you with them. Not when I was right there." Michelle cooed back, stroking a hand down Willow's front until she landed on the place they were connected. She pressed her thumb into Willow's clothed pussy and the reaction was instantaneous. Willow sobbed, tears slipping onto her rosy cheeks. She choked out a desperate more, and who was Michelle to deny Willow anything? 

Her baby deserved the world.

Willow was shaking now, trembling from head to toe. Her thrusts had become less co-ordinated as she sought out her release. Michelle pushed up to meet her more firmly, giving Willow everything she needed. "Come on, sweetheart. Let go for me. Make a mess. Show me how badly you needed it." 

Darting forward, Michelle licked the tears clean off Willow's cheeks, rubbing her once, twice, three times, before Willow released over Michelle's lap with a strained cry. At the gorgeous view of her best friend - the girl she loved - falling apart on top of her, because of her, Michelle wasn't far behind. She rutted up into Willow for a minute longer, keeping Willow pressed against her, before coming undone with Willow's name on her lips. 

They sat there for a few more minutes, catching their breath. Michelle's hands stroked continuous, abstract patterns along Willow's back and hips, bringing her back down to reality. Willow's head was hooked into Michelle's neck, gasping little breaths as she regained clarity. 

Once Willow had stopped trembling, Michelle planted a series of kisses into her hair and temple, craning her neck to reach. "Hey." 

"Hi." Willow giggled in reply. 

"You looked so good. Angelic." 

Willow groaned, embarrassed. "Shut up, stop it. Ugh, I feel gross." 

Laughing, Michelle guided the girl to sit up, wincing apologetically when Willow, still sensitive, shifted against her thigh a little too firmly. "I'll do a scavenger hunt for our clothes and put a wash on." 

Willow nodded tiredly. Michelle reached up, hooking a strand of fallen, sweaty hair behind her ear and leaving her palm to hold her cheek. This gorgeous, beautiful girl, who was looking at Michelle as if she'd hung the stars. This gentle, warm girl, who had kissed Michelle back and wanted more. This sweet, angelic girl, who loved Michelle.

Remembering how Willow had said the words, defined and heavy like they'd been sitting in her chest for so long, Michelle broke out into a grin. 

Willow's head cocked to the side, further into Michelle's palm. "What?" 

"You love me?" 

Willow's cheeks regained their pink hue, but she rolled her eyes to maintain her calm facade. "Obviously. I feel like I've been walking around with a giant sign attached to my back that says I love Michelle Wheeler for our whole entire lives. I think the better question is, you love me?" 

Michelle stared with earnest into Willow's imploring hazel eyes. "I do," she whispered softly, reverently. "I love you so much. I love you more than I could ever love anything. I love you more than I know what to do with. The thought of anyone else trying to give you the things I knew only I could give? It made me furious to the point where I actually felt sick." 

Willow laughed gently, her arms hooked behind Michelle's neck unclasping to glide up into Michelle's hair. "I was so confused. All those times.. I thought you were just being jealous in a best friend way. You hate change, and I was starting to get worried that I was never going to be able to date someone." 

"You don't need to date anyone else." Michelle frantically shook her head, annoyed with the notion even now, as Willow sat perched in her lap, bare and gorgeously exposed, still coming down from her release that Michelle had given her. "None of those girls would've treated you right. Not like I can." 

"Oh yeah?" Willow teased, "not even Lac-?"

"Don't say another girl's name when your boobs are in my face." Michelle glared, interrupting. Willow threw her head back and laughed openly, and Michelle broke at the sight, a smile unconsciously breaking onto her lips. She leaned up and placed a kiss to the underside of Willow's chin. "I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I love you. I'm going to spend all of our forever making sure you know it." 

Willow's smile turned soft. She leaned in to give Michelle a long, sweet kiss. "I know it," she whispered into Michelle's mouth. They blinked at each other, the proximity dizzying, "but I like the sound of our forever." 

Michelle kissed Willow again. "Me fucking too." 

____________________