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They sit on Maya’s bed facing each other, legs tangled, as they often do on Saturday night when they can have a bit more freedom than they do any other night.
Claudine is telling Maya something as she plays with Maya’s hair absentmindedly, but Maya can’t focus on what she is saying because Claudine’s face is so close to hers and she smells very nice. Very, very nice that Maya is a second away from burying her nose in Claudine’s hair and stays like that forever. Chamomile , Maya registers in her mind, and … strawberry. A little bit of bergamot, maybe the soap she used —but she holds herself; instead, she focuses on Claudine’s long lashes, or her nose that sometimes scrunches when she’s displeased, or her pink lips Maya very much wants to kiss.
In the midst of admiring Claudine’s face, Maya notices the turn of Claudine’s lips that settles into a pout (Maya wonders if it’s as soft as it looks, as sweet as she remembers), and Maya nearly misses when Claudine says, “Why are you looking at me like that?” because the tint of pink dusting her cheeks is such a beautiful embellishment to her freckles.
“What?” It takes Maya three blinks to register Claudine’s question. “Looking at you like what?”
A lovely frown of her eyebrows. Maya wishes she could smoothen it with a kiss. “You know, like … like a dumb person,” Claudine grumbles.
Maya raises her eyebrows. “Me, or you?” Maya regrets asking because it’s stupid and surely now Claudine knows she hasn’t been paying attention.
“You. You look dumb like that,” Claudine huffs. Her cheeks look so squishy just then, like a squirrel, and Maya unconsciously reaches up to cup them in her hands. It still pleases her to feel how soft Claudine is even though they basically invade each other’s personal space all the time. Claudine turns a lovely shade of red. “Are you making fun of me?” Claudine demands as she grips Maya’s wrist but makes no attempt to remove Maya’s hands from her face.
“No,” Maya says truthfully, rather confused as to why Claudine would come up with such a notion. “I merely think that you look lovely.” Maya thinks mentioning about looking like a squirrel is probably not a good idea, seeing that the scowl on Claudine’s face has gone deeper.
Claudine lets out a noise that’s probably a growl and pushes Maya away by the shoulder. “You’re not paying attention! I’m going back to my room.”
Maya’s heart nearly stops and everything seems to slow down as she watches Claudine backing away to get off from her bed. With as much speed she could use with as little power, she grabs Claudine’s wrist (gently as to not hurt her, not because she regards Claudine as a piece of fragile porcelain and more because there are a lot of instances where she couldn’t control her output of strength, which results in many incidents of broken door knobs, broken faucets, snapped hair ties, shattered glasses and china, ripped garments— ahem , not just hers—and many others).
“Please, don’t go,” Maya says. Claudine stops and looks at her, still indignant, and Maya holds her breath. “I’m sorry. Please … stay.” Please let me hear your voice and bask in your presence . “I will pay attention, I promise.”
Claudine sighs as she plops down onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. When Maya sees Claudine’s face soften, she feels a weight is lifted from her heart. “As you should. But you have to stop looking like a kicked puppy because I’m starting to feel bad too.”
Claudine starts to recount her stories again, and Maya tries very hard to concentrate. She tries to look at Claudine’s eyes but finds herself still very bad at maintaining eye contact outside of acting—though, sometimes, Claudine’s eyes dart about the room as her stories go; then are the times Maya is able to take the chance to see the rose, burning as they always are, but not with the usual defiance Maya would see during their revues, but with something else that is … softer, but brilliant all the same.
Maya is sure she’s falling, again, as she always is whenever she looks at Claudine, although she feels very light—Claudine’s voice brings her above the clouds.
“I think it’s quite unfortunate that the play feels a bit underwhelming in the end,” Claudine sighs. “Though in my personal opinion it has to do with the script more than the actors. What do you think, Maya?”
The price of paying attention to what Claudine is saying is incredibly rewarding, because when Maya gives Claudine a piece of her mind, the smile she receives in return is brighter than the sun it burns her heart.