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Home, sweet, home.
Hazal grimaced to herself as she stepped over the threshold into her new apartment. It was sweltering; the first thing she did after dumping her rucksack to the ground was hunt for the air conditioning.
She hadn’t anticipated the humidity here. Istanbul had been more humid than Bursa had been, but this knocked them both out of the water. The air itself felt thick, like she could chew on it.
What are you doing here, Eyletmez?
She didn’t fully know the answer to that, but she knew enough to shrug off the question.
She was here because she’d gotten a job offer, and if she hadn’t gotten out of Istanbul, she’d have wound up going down a road she couldn’t come back from.
Her reliance on her coping mechanisms had gotten bad enough before he’d died. She didn’t need to go down the rabbit hole of fucking strangers while she drank and smoked herself to death.
This was more sustainable. At the very least, it would be a distraction for a while.
The offer had come out of nowhere. It wasn’t uncommon for tech companies across the world to try and hire her - she’d made something of a name for herself in white hat hacking spheres. She knew what she was doing, and she was good. If there was a flaw in a company’s system, she’d find it.
She hadn’t paid much attention to what this particular company was even doing. She didn’t need to care until she clocked in. All she knew was that the salary was livable, and the Philippines were so far out of what she'd always known that it would be more than a fresh start.
She was drowning anyway. She might as well choose to drown in culture shock instead of grief.
She hadn’t brought much. She didn’t own much. As she dragged what few boxes she owned into her apartment she set about unpacking, she realised just how little she had to her name.
A box of knick-knacks to adorn her desk, most of them gifts from him. An ancient frying pan that was probably older than her parents. Two pots and a colander. A couple of sets of cutlery. A four-set of drinking glasses and her favourite mug. A bowl to hold her burning sage. Her henna supplies, her makeup, a toothbrush. Her hair care supplies and a few sets of clothes.
It was almost pathetic, but almost everything else had been steeped in too many memories for her to stomach.
She’d sold some of what she’d owned before. Some, such her extensive book collection, she couldn’t bear to part with, but she also couldn't touch without feeling like she’d been burned, so she’d stored it safely in containment.
She’d return for those things someday. For now, her only goal was survival.
It had been such a long time since she’d moved. For so long, life had been perfectly routine - monotonous, sure, but never boring. Her life had revolved around his care, but now he was gone, and she was left, a temple without a luminary at its heart, to pick up the rubble he’d left behind.
She was finished unpacking in only a few hours, with her clothes packed away and her desk decorated the way she liked it. The effort had been a fucking exhausting one - her shirt clung to her clammy skin and sweat rolled in fat beads down her cheeks, even with her air conditioning.
She’d need to invest in some more standing fans. With a wardrobe as pitch-dark as hers, she needed as much relief from the heat as she could get.
“Cehennem sıcağı resmen,” she grumbled as she slumped into her chair at her dining table, shirt halfway unbuttoned and hair hanging in damp coils around her face.
Her curls were going crazy in this humidity. She’d need to take care to avoid it frizzing on wetter days.
Her legs ached. Her back ached worse. A knot was forming in her lower spine, a point of protest from heaving boxes, even if they hadn’t been particularly heavy. Her temples throbbed from dehydration, but she needed to go out to buy drinking water, and she wasn’t even close to willing to deal with that just yet.
Instead, she looked lazily out at the street.
There was a lot to look at. She lived on the second floor of this building, with another apartment building opposite hers, and a view to the street below if she craned her neck. She glanced down to watch strangers pass by.
Everyone always seemed to have somewhere to be, here. Hazal had known Manila was a busy city, but this seemed to be one of the more compact areas.
It had certainly been one of the more expensive places to rent. Hazal could afford it, but she’d cocked her brow at the difference between living here, in the belly of the city and close to her work, compared to an area further out.
She’d chosen convenience over affordability. Hazal could make it to her office on foot if she wanted. As much as her wallet burned for such a small living space, the location was pretty fantastic.
People passed by below in jumbled groups. A group of children chased a ball across the street. A cluster of adults in suits spoke urgently amongst themselves, not quite arguing, but certainly not in agreement. A couple of teenagers passed by with drinks in their hands, one of them biting into the fresh, soaked flesh of a mango.
There were all kinds of people to be found in cities like this. Istanbul had been much the same, but there, she’d known every other street, could hear strangers having the same arguments time and time again.
Here, she was in the dark, and that was exactly what she’d needed - she hoped, at least.
The ache in her temples grew. She’d need to get to a store to buy some water.
As she moved to push herself to her feet, however, she paused.
Across the street, one of her neighbours was standing in their window.
It was a woman, hair vibrant cobalt shot through with gold, clearly in the midst of a workout.
She wasn’t looking at Hazal. She wore a tank top, with sweat beading across her bared shoulders, and shit, those shoulders were muscular. Her hair was tied up in pigtails, one on either side, and she had both hands strapped into boxing gloves. She hammered at a punching bag out of Hazal’s view, and Hazal could see the weight of it reverberating through her muscles.
She dragged her wrist over her brow, wiping away a coating of sweat. She heaved for breath, her cheeks puffing as she took in gulps for air as slowly as she could.
Her eyes were focused, direct. She was entirely zoned in on her workout, without a shred of a clue that she was being watched.
Hazal’s cheeks heated, and she pushed herself up and away from the table.
She was lucky she hadn’t been caught. The last thing she needed was to make a bad first impression by staring at her neighbour.
She grabbed her keys and her wallet, and morbidly questioned if it was even worth bringing her phone.
Who would she call if anything happened? It wasn’t like she trusted the police, and her friends had dwindled until they’d finally died out with Aykut.
There was no one left for her, now.
She gritted her teeth, swallowing the thought. She once might have told herself there was no use in that kind of pessimism, but she’d long since lost the ability to shelter from it.
She swiped her phone, jamming it into her pocket like it had offended her, and stormed from the apartment, her grief all-encompassing, and her neighbour’s sweat-shining shoulders all but forgotten.
-
The next week was a whirlwind of settling in. Hazal woke early, made sure to be one of the first to the office, and kept her head ducked until her stomach was growling loud enough to drag her from her work. She got home late, thankfully too exhausted to spare a thought for the dark cloud that had been following her ever since his death.
She ate just enough to keep herself going, drank enough coffee to fuel half a continent - just a few days after moving, she’d impulsively bought a coffee machine that was definitely meant to be mounted in a coffee shop rather than someone’s home - and for a while, she didn’t pay any heed to her window.
That changed when, one day, she looked through and saw her neighbour leaning back against her window frame, struggling to pull a shoe onto her foot.
She was wearing a tank top this time, her back mostly covered, but her shoulders still bare. Her hair was down, spilling down her neck in a waterfall of rich blue and gold, but she tossed her head to flip it back over her shoulder.
Hazal didn’t mean to stare. She didn’t mean to do a great many things, these days. She felt like a zombie bound behind healthy skin, drifting from place to place, doing her job and giving up on the possibility of anything else.
Still, she stalled in place, her jaw slack but not hanging open, and she watched as her neighbour yanked her shoes into place, rolled back to crack her spine, and tied her hair back into the pigtails Hazal had seen her wearing before.
She snatched a water bottle from somewhere to the side of the window, fastened it to a carabiner at her hip, and vanished from view. Hazal lingered, lifting a hand to drag her fingertips over the window frame.
She mourned the loss of her for just a moment. She'd have turned away, returned to her life and forgotten again about the gorgeous woman across the street, but a flash of blue caught her eye, and she paused in place.
Her neighbour was emerging from her door. She stretched, gripping one arm behind her head with her opposite hand, and then took off jogging down the street, her water bottle bouncing against her hip as she went.
Hazal watched her go with an interest she couldn't place. The stranger was attractive, certainly, but Hazal didn’t normally get so pulled in by someone's looks, and in recent months, she’d been even more doggedly disinterested.
Ever since his death, even her habit of perusing bars for similarly lonely strangers had fallen to the wayside. She hadn't even touched herself in… shit, it must have been months, now. Her libido had been lost to her in her grief, along with the greater part of her heart.
So why, now, was she so drawn towards a stranger?
Hazal couldn't guess. She didn't care to try. There was already enough on her mind.
She turned away, forcing herself back to her usual routine, but from there, she couldn't quite forget about her neighbour.
Subconsciously, she found herself checking the window whenever she passed it. Often it was empty, but sometimes, the stranger was there, passing by, working out, lounging with a mug in her hands.
Hazal couldn't explain the pull she felt towards her, but it felt twisted, wrong. This woman was just living her life. Nothing she did entitled Hazal to stare at her like this, but no matter what she did, Hazal found herself glued.
Her stomach tore and clawed at her. It was viciously painful, but she deserved it. If she couldn't break her gaze, she could stand to hurt for it. It wasn't like she was staring, but it felt wrong to even check that window at all.
How would this stranger feel, knowing her neighbour looked across the street for her each time she passed her living room? Hazal had a hard time believing she’d ever be happy about it.
The glances she caught were fleeting. She never looked for long, but just long enough to make out the sculpted shape of her shoulder blades, the angular tattoos that snaked over both of her upper arms, the hair that framed her face when it tugged loose from her pigtails.
She didn’t often turn back to face the window, but when she did, Hazal saw a soft face, with a curved jawline, a slightly upturned nose, and dark eyes ringed by long, thick lashes.
It made Hazal’s chest flutter, which was both unacceptable and bizarre. It had been years since she’d felt this flustered over anyone.
Get a hold of yourself, Eyletmez, she told herself one night as she stormed away from the window, the image of her neighbour dancing in her window burned into her memory.
She’d been using a hair straightener as a microphone. Hazal couldn’t hear the music, of course, but she’d had her eyes closed as she moved, lost in her movements. She’d moved shamelessly, surprisingly flexible, waving her hips like a ringing bell, and Hazal had rushed away before heat could flood her cheeks.
She hadn’t meant to fall into the habit of watching her. She’d certainly never wanted her neighbour to know about it.
As such, with Hazal’s luck, it was only a matter of time before she was caught red-handed.
It happened one night, when Hazal was sitting at her dining table, coffee mug wrapped between her hands. She was looking out already, examining passersby, when Tala drifted to her window. She was in a shiny, lavender night top - was that silk? It certainly looked like it when it caught the light.
She had a steaming mug of her own, and was talking to someone outside of Hazal’s view. Hazal narrowed her eyes, watching her. Her hair was loose again.
She laughed, lifting her head back, and turned to rest her mug on the windowsill, just too fast for Hazal to avert her eyes. She caught her staring, her eyes meeting Hazal’s, and she stilled.
Hazal froze, her body turning rigid. Prickles of discomfort dotted like sweat across her back, insidiously burrowing beneath the flesh until they struck bone, and then burrowing further still. It dug into her spinal cord, keeping her suspended in place and even her breath pinned in her chest.
The stranger’s eyes widened, and her cheeks darkened. She spoke again, blinking rapidly and glancing toward whoever it was in her apartment. Hazal half-expected her to be calling over the other person to come and see this creep watching her through the window, but no one came, and that made Hazal realise something.
She wasn’t mentioning what had happened. She was rushing to cover her tracks, to conceal what she’d caught Hazal doing.
Mortification flooded Hazal. She was burning alive under her skin. Her organs turned to mush, cooked into nothing, and it congealed into a homogenous gloop, bubbling and stinking only of shame.
She shrank into herself, cringing from the woman’s stare, but unable to break eye contact. She was holding her there, eyes firmly fixed on Hazal’s, and Hazal was at her mercy until she looked away.
The stranger cocked her head, still speaking to whoever was in her apartment with her. Hazal didn’t know what she was looking for, or what to expect from her now. She half expected her to find something to cover the window with, but instead, the woman’s expression smoothed, and her mouth cocked into a smirk.
Hazal lifted an eyebrow, wholly confused. She’d expected anger, disgust, fear, but now…
She looked satisfied, somehow.
Her neighbour wrapped her hands more firmly around her mug, taking a sip with her eyes still locked on Hazal’s, and then turned back to her conversation with her lips still smugly upturned. She vanished from the window, leaving Hazal to stew in her bewilderment and embarrassment, and the next time Hazal saw her, she stunned her all over again.
This time, when Hazal glanced across the street, she found her neighbour already watching her.
She was in a sports bra, with her hair hanging wet around her face - she’d just finished working out, clearly. She had her water bottle in her hands and her eyes lazily low-lidded, and her contentment turned to wicked delight when she saw Hazal looking over at her.
Hazal paused, her bearings once again lost to her. Of all the ways her neighbour could have responded, this wasn’t what Hazal had expected, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
She watched her for a while, swallowing hard, and experimentally nodded, dipping her head in a silent greeting. Her neighbour’s smile widened, flashing teeth and a pair of dimples that indented her cheeks, and she nodded back at her.
Okay, Hazal swallowed again. That’s something, I guess.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her brains stunned right out of her, and her nerves simmered until they overcame her entirely, and she stormed away.
From there, it became something of a routine.
When they passed, they’d look across the street for each other, and more often than not, they’d catch each other. Their schedules seemed to match quite well, so it was a regular occurrence for one of them to catch the other walking home after work or after a workout, or pattering back and forth while they worked on dinner.
Each time they locked eyes, Hazal cautiously greeted her, and her neighbour greeted her back, still looking just as pleased as ever.
It was… Hazal was hesitant to call it flirtatious, but the longer it continued, the harder it was to deny.
Her neighbour was brazen, seeming to preen at Hazal’s attention, and emboldened by her reaction, Hazal let her own affection start to grow. If her neighbour enjoyed seeing her this much, maybe it wasn’t so vile of her to find her attractive.
Their communication started to spread over time along with their boldness.
When Hazal got a haircut - her first since his death, to finally rid herself of her split ends and wrestle her hair back under control - her neighbour lifted a hand to bob it against the edges of her own hair, mimicking towards Hazal’s. She flashed her a thumbs up, nodding with something of a gentler smile on her face, and Hazal’s cheekbones burned like a plain in drought.
When Tala appeared one day in a supple leather jacket, cracked from age but attractive, Hazal shook the lapels of her own jacket to mime how much she liked it. Her neighbour beamed, flashing her teeth, and Hazal’s chest did something warm and uncomfortable.
It was odd to fall so easily in line with someone again, particularly when she’d been so certain that she never could again. If she were smarter, if she had more will to defend herself instead of crumbling in the wake of all she’d lost, she’d have shut this down from the start.
As it was, she’d been lonely for far too long, and she chased this stranger’s smile like a starved animal. She craved connection, and even across a street, separated by two windows, she thought she might have found it.
She didn’t think either of them knew where this would go next. Hazal didn’t think she particularly cared. This was sustaining her in a way she hadn’t expected, and when she’d felt this fragile for this long, she couldn’t afford to be picky.
For now, they both seemed content, and until that changed, Hazal decided she could accept the risks.
-
Hazal’s neighbour appeared to be a bold woman.
She carried herself with confidence, with her chin lifted and her eyelids lowered. She smiled easily, like she knew perfectly well that she had the majority of the power between them and kept it proudly displayed. She looked, on the outside, like a perfect, put-together picture, unbreakable and steadfast.
Hazal had never spoken a word to her in person. She knew her only from their silent conversations shared across the street, spoken in facial expressions and simple mimes, but even from that, she could tell one thing for certain.
That woman’s confidence was almost entirely an act.
She carried herself with an air of someone who could never be knocked off their feet, but Hazal saw fragility in the cracks between the plates of her armour.
She saw it in the way she worked out, pushing herself to the limits until her body was sculpted and gorgeous. She saw it in the way she hungered for Hazal’s attention, something most would have scorned. She saw it in the way that, even now, weeks after this curious little fling had started, neither of them had dared move towards meeting in person, even though they only lived a few metres apart.
Hazal assumed that it would never happen, and their odd little friendship, as vague as it was, would remain entirely sealed behind their windows. She was all right with that, in fairness.
From what she could see, they both needed this. Her neighbour, for whatever reason, was taking comfort in Hazal’s attraction, and Hazal found comfort in the sheer normality of human connection. It felt normal to meet someone and see beauty in them, and she’d lost normalcy a very long time ago - longer than she cared to admit.
They were walking a fine line, exploring what it brought them, and at least from Hazal’s perspective, they both seemed to be happy.
She saw no reason to expect more from her, which was why it caught her by surprise when one day, her neighbour decided to take a step over the line they’d trodden, and to venture into new territory.
It was late at night on a Friday when it happened.
Hazal had a mug in her hand, like always, and she nursed it at her table while she waited for her friend to appear.
They didn’t always meet this late at night, particularly on weekdays, but from what Hazal could tell, neither of them worked on the weekend. Fridays and Saturdays tended to be the days they saw each other most, if only just because they were at home the most, without the limits of having to wake early for work the next day.
When her neighbour appeared, she looked… bedraggled, similar to how she looked after a workout. Her eyes were heavy, but not from exhaustion - in fact, she looked bright and alert, with an excitement there that Hazal didn’t recognise.
She cocked her head, sending over her usual greeting nod, and the other woman bit her lip as she returned it.
She reached up, flattening a palm to the window, and chewed on her lip like she was rolling over a thought in her mind.
Hazal waited, patient, but with curiosity gnawing at her so intently she was sure it would leave teeth prints in her skin. She’d never seen her neighbour looking like this, like there was a secret she was considering sharing, even if she knew she’d promised not to tell.
The woman cocked her brow for a moment, and then lifted her chin, apparently set in whatever she’d decided.
With her eyes fixed on Hazal’s, she reached back behind herself, fumbling behind her shirt, and unclamped her bra.
Hazal froze again, her brain scrambling into mush.
It wasn’t like she minded what was happening, but she was at her neighbour’s mercy when it came to their comfort level. Hazal had been open about her attraction from the start - it was hard to hide it when she’d been caught staring like a lovesick fool.
Her neighbour pulled her bra out from her sleeve, dangling it over her fingertip, and then she let it fall. She leaned down, resting both elbows on her windowsill, and scoured Hazal’s face for her reaction.
Hazal was curious to know how she’d react, too. Her body hadn’t quite caught up to her brain, and she was still sitting rigidly in place, eyes wide and jaw clenched so it didn’t fall open.
Was this an invitation? Surely there was no other way to take this.
Hazal tilted her head, dragging her eyes down to her neighbour’s chest. Her face burned, but she didn’t see the worth in backing down now, not when they both wanted this.
Well, stranger, she bit back a smirk of her own, sitting back in her chair and taking a long, slow draught of her coffee. You’re braver than I thought.
Her neighbour’s chest was heaving as she breathed, betraying her nerves. Without her bra, Hazal could see the shape of her a little better - she was supple, slightly larger than average, and her shirt just pointed into tents at the peak of each breast, just teasing her with the notion of what lay beneath.
Hazal wanted to devour her. She’d do it slowly, making it last and savouring her on her tongue.
Her neighbour seemed exhilarated, taken in by the rush of Hazal accepting this new step.
Hazal flashed a crooked grin, reaching up to unbutton her shirt, but she didn’t shrug it free. She let it splay open, betraying the flat plane of her stomach and the hint of her bra in the middle of her breastbone, and took another drink from her mug as she watched for her neighbour’s reaction.
The other woman flared with a furious blush. Her eyes darkened, flooding with something dark and intentful, and she suddenly tore herself from the window, racing away like she was being pursued.
Hazal snickered, finished her coffee, and headed back into her room with something of a smug bounce to her step.
The next night, they repeated their encounter.
This time, her neighbour was there first. Hazal had been out for much of the day, still so wired from the previous night that she’d needed to crush this excess energy from her bones before it consumed her.
She still felt like a live wire by the time she headed back to her apartment, and her excitement crept under her skin as she poured herself a fresh coffee and meandered over to her window.
Her neighbour’s face lit up at the sight of her, her interest raging in her eyes, and she reached up to grab the hems of her jacket. It was a black jacket slung over a white tank top, and as Hazal squinted, she couldn’t see bra straps underneath the shirt. It was only them, separated by a few thin layers of fabric, and their desire seared between them almost audibly.
Hazal’s chest tightened, not from stress, but anticipation. She took a drink with her eyes still locked on her friend’s, raising both eyebrows in a clear challenge, and the other woman’s eyes damn near glazed over.
She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it to the floor, and then cocked her brow back at Hazal, challenging her in turn.
The message was clear. I lose something, you lose something.
Hazal snickered, her excitement flooding outward in her chest until it pressed against her ribs. If she didn’t take care to breathe slowly, she feared she might burst.
She rested her mug on the table and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head.
Underneath, she wore only a bra - that, and the nipple piercings that she knew glinted visibly from behind the black lace.
She tossed the shirt across the room and slipped one thumb into the pocket of her pants, cocking her hip to the side. She reached down to grab her mug again, content and feigning nonchalance, even though her abdomen was buzzing with the fury of a kicked hive.
Her neighbour’s face crumbled into something feral. She looked starving, and Hazal couldn’t deny that it stroked her ego to be lusted after. It had been a while, after all.
Her neighbour unbuckled her belt, snapping it free and tossing it away, and worked her shorts’ button free with one hand while the other remained clenched at her side. Her entire body looked tense, not from stress, but merely from the effort of holding herself back.
I see you, now, Hazal almost purred to herself as the other woman unzipped her shorts. She didn’t push them down, but she loosened them enough to sling a hand underneath the hem, revealing a hint of the underwear beneath, and the line of hair trailing from her belly button down between her legs.
Fuck, she was hot. Hazal vaguely told herself that the sweat rolling down her spine was only from the heat, but she knew it was a lie.
Her breath was coming fast, now, and her abdomen sparked with interest.
She was wearing sweatpants without a belt, but she eased down the lip of them enough to showcase a hint of the vibrant purple of her boxers. She could feel herself twitching in her pants, and she took several deep breaths to keep herself under control.
Her neighbour showed no such restraint. She smirked, flashing her teeth, and turned to leave, disappearing from the window with her chest still heaving. She vanished into the apartment and didn’t return, and Hazal was left half-hard in her pants and wanting.
Shit.
“Yeah,” she whispered to herself, shocked at just how breathless she felt. “Yeah, I got you. I know what you want.”
She wanted it, too. She wouldn’t act on that want - it wasn’t her place, not when she’d been the one to start this whole mess - but it pounded between her legs like a second heartbeat.
She wanted to know what that woman’s muscles felt like under her fingertips. She wanted to know what her sweat tasted like. She wanted to hear what she sounded like as her body wound towards release, and she wanted to taste her pleasure on her tongue as she swallowed her cries with a kiss.
The junction between her legs throbbed, and she stumbled back from the window.
Maybe in a situation more private, without the risk of passersby looking up and catching a glimpse, they’d have continued. Maybe if they were shielded from the world they’d have shoved their hands into their pants and shown each other exactly what they wanted, and how badly they wanted it.
Hazal would have enjoyed that, she thought. She wanted to see what that woman looked like when she came, even if she could only look from across the street.
She throbbed again, this time the ache so vehement it took her aback.
“Shit,” she huffed, tensing her legs as she hobbled into her bathroom. She needed to get off.
Her shower pressure sucked, but she still shucked the rest of her clothes free and turned on the water. She kept it cold - cold water was kind to the curls in her hair, for one, but it was also so warm here that colder water tended to be more relieving than a hot shower.
She stepped under the stream, shivering appreciatively at the chill that drummed against her scalp and rolled in sheets down her back. Her body was aching, weeping for her attention, and as she reached up to press her palm to her stomach, a shiver jimmied her spine.
Her cock twitched. It had been such a long time since she’d felt like this.
What did this even feel like? Hazal couldn’t say for sure. There was so much to digest all at once - her arousal gripped her like a boiling vice, but beneath that, Hazal found her chest tight with apprehension and her stomach coiling with guilt.
She wrapped a hand around her shaft, trembling, her shoulders jerking at the lightest touch of her palm. After so long, she was sensitive.
Was this wrong? What right did she have to want a stranger like this?
She drew her hand down her length and pleasure zipped across her back, burning like electricity. A ragged breath tore from between her teeth.
What a feckless indulgence this was. What had happened to her grief? What gave her the right to chase this now when she’d taken up post at his graveside, promising to defend his memory until she met him in the ground?
She ran her thumb over her tip and her cock twitched again in her palm. She wouldn’t last, not with the thrill of cold water on her skin, not with the memory of her neighbour’s bare, sculpted abdomen still flooding her mind.
Would her sweat run in rivulets down those muscles, finding the deepest crevice they could find?
Fuck, Hazal wanted to drag her tongue up those divots so she might taste the salt her body was weeping. She wanted to sink her teeth into the firm muscle of that woman’s shoulder, in the meat where her neck met her collar.
She grunted, cussing under her breath, and pumped her wrist faster. Her vision whited out and her eyes rolled back into her skull; pleasure struck her like a lightning bolt, turning her rigid and rolling sparks of joy from her abdomen outward. It radiated out to her fingertips, to her toes, to her ears and from her parted, shaking lips.
This was a betrayal. This was disgraceful. This was vile and violating and selfish, and she wanted it so badly she feared she’d choke if she dared to stop.
Her cock pulsed in her hand, turning stiffer as it inched closer and closer to bursting.
This was wrong.
She wanted to grab her neighbour by those pigtails and pull them back sharply to hear the sound she’d make. She wanted to fuck her from behind and see the light rippling down the ridges of her spine as her back arched. She wanted to turn her onto her back and push her thighs up against her chest so she could thrust against her unobstructed.
Shit, fuck, mercy.
Hazal swore violently as she came. Pleasure seized her, boring like needles under her skin and embedding in her nervous system. Her vision blurred, turning so bright it blinded her, and she threw her head back as her torso jerked forward of its own volition. She thrust against her own hand, bursting over her fingers, and her cock pulsed feebly as her release drained from her.
As her orgasm passed her by, her pleasure fizzled out, turning to crushing fatigue. Her eyes rolled in her skull, her vision still blurred and the world spinning around her.
She stumbled back a step, throwing one shaking arm out to catch herself on the wall. She heaved for breath, her chest burning - she hadn’t even realised in the moment that her orgasm had crushed the air from her lungs.
That had been…
Hazal shook her head to clear the stars from her vision, and gulped down another mouthful of air. She didn’t have words to name how she felt, and so the safer option was instead to simply digest it in silence.
She could address it and crumble with guilt later, when her head wasn’t swimming in post-orgasm fog.
She headed to her bed on wobbling legs, and when she slept that night, she dreamed of her friend’s dimpled smile, and of the sounds she made when she fell apart on Hazal’s fingers.
-
Once they’d started teasing each other, the teasing suddenly became relentless.
Now when they met at their windows, it was rare for them to part with their outfits intact. They’d cock their brows or tilt their heads, challenging each other, and one of them would start them off by throwing off whatever outermost piece of clothing they were wearing.
It would usually end with one of them darting away from the window with their desire blazing on their faces, and if Hazal could guess, she’d assume they were both reacting similarly once they were done.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so easily riled. This woman had gotten under her skin in a way no one else ever had. She couldn’t get her out of her mind.
They were building to something. This time, with something of a better understanding of how her neighbour worked, Hazal could tell. They weren’t following a careful line anymore, but rather hurtling towards a glass pane that they were likely to shatter.
Hazal only hoped they liked what was on the other side.
They were growing hungrier by the day, and with that came boldness. One day, Hazal lounged back in her seat, tweaking her nipple through the lace of her bra, watching her neighbour through her lashes. Her neighbour watched her with fire in her eyes, wearing only an oversized hoodie - she’d pulled off her underwear and tossed them away.
Hazal practically purred at the way her neighbour rubbed her thighs together, shifting her weight as if she could hide the motion.
Oh, no you don’t, she told herself smugly, her body buzzing with how deeply it wanted her. I know you too well for that.
Without ever speaking to her, Hazal had memorised this woman’s reactions to her own arousal. She recognised the way she grew antsy when she was losing her patience, and the way she grew short of breath, biting her lip as if she were holding herself back.
It was endearing, even cute, although Hazal still didn’t feel like it was her right to call her that.
Her neighbour gave up before her, today. It took watching Hazal slide a hand between her legs to rest it suggestively over her groin for her to break, and she stormed off at a furious pace, leaving Hazal behind, snickering at how desperate she’d looked.
One day, her neighbour dragged a chair out to sit in front of the window, shoving a hand down her shorts, and Hazal watched as the fabric lazily bobbed. It was too slow to get her anywhere, but just suggestive enough to drive her insane, and she was the one to break first, that time.
Sometimes they wore fancier underwear just to see the other light up. Sometimes they drew their hands over themselves, teasing at what they knew they were both doing. Once, her neighbour even showed off an egg-shaped vibrator before dropping it down her shorts, and shit, Hazal might have passed on the spot if she were any less used to this little dance.
They were growing so bold, verging on stupidity, that it was hardly surprising when they finally broke.
Hazal’s neighbour was late to the window the day it happened. Hazal was waiting for her in her usual seat at her dining table, her coffee mug already empty, and idly wondered to herself if she maybe wouldn’t show up at all that day.
When she finally showed, she was fully clothed, and had a notepad in her hands.
Hazal cocked her head, curious, and her neighbour ripped out two full sheets of paper. She flattened them on a nearby surface, scribbling something just out of sight, but then stood back up, flattening the papers to the window.
Hazal had to squint to read them. Her neighbour had written in bold letters in marker, but it was still a distance across the street, and in fairness, Hazal’s eyesight was probably worsening as she got older. The amount of reading she did hardly helped.
She narrowed her eyes, jutting her face forward to make it out. The paper simply read:
Halika dito.
Hazal pursed her lips. Ah, Tagalog.
She’d learned some basics when she’d agreed to move here, and she could pick up context clues in more and more situations as she settled, but her Tagalog was still extremely rudimentary. She struggled to work out what this meant.
The words were familiar. She’d heard it said, but she struggled to recall the meaning. She glanced up at her neighbour’s face, trying to read her, and saw her worrying her lip between her teeth, eyes wide and vulnerable, shifting her weight between her feet.
She was nervous, desperately so, but hopeful.
She’s asking me to come over, Hazal realised, and excitement mounted in her like a cresting wave. For a moment, the air was pressed from her lungs, and she felt like she was hovering outside her own body, watching herself as she nodded her consent.
Her neighbour beamed at Hazal’s nod. She bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly excited, and Hazal gestured with two of her fingers to suggest she’d just need a couple of minutes to prepare.
She rose and swept her apartment for what she’d need. Her heart raced behind her ribs, thumping outward like an amateur drummer, without much sense of rhythm. It ached, but oddly enough, it was a pleasant sort of pain, like excitement that gnawed at you so hard it bored like a drill into your stomach.
Her lungs felt tight. Her breaths came too quickly, never enough to fill her lungs.
This is ridiculous, she almost laughed to herself as she headed into her bedroom, drawing her fingers through her hair to neaten her curls and rifling through her cupboard to find her condoms. You’re acting like a hormonal teenager again.
She was positively giddy, high on her anticipation, and it only made it more thrilling that she knew her neighbour was, too - at least, she was if the look on her face had anything to say about it.
The language barrier could potentially pose a problem, but they’d done just fine communicating without words up until this point. If this stranger didn’t speak English, they could make do.
She had a suspicion that they weren’t meeting up for a friendly chat, anyway. Extensive conversation was unlikely to be strictly necessary.
She stashed her condoms, keys, and phone in her bag, and slung it over her shoulder as she headed out of the apartment. She knew which door to go to.
The street was, blessedly, empty for once. It was a busy area, rarely lonely, but Hazal stepped out onto a quiet street and didn’t have to duck her head to avoid eye contact with anyone as she stepped up to her neighbour’s door.
Once she was there, she stalled. The apartment building had a buzzer by the door with a list of apartment numbers she could call, but with a stab of embarrassment, Hazal realised she had no idea which number to call.
She floundered, stepping back to glance up at her neighbour’s window, but she’d disappeared from it, and Hazal was left unsure of what to do. She didn’t have her phone number to call her, and she’d told her to expect her shortly.
For a moment, she worried her neighbour would think she’d been stood up, but blessedly, she seemed to have come to the same realisation as Hazal, and she appeared from the elevator to let her in.
She jogged through the lobby to meet her at the door, flushing as she opened it, and she seemed a little startled - and definitely flustered - when she finally spoke.
“Gagi, ang tangkad mo," she said, looking her up and down, and Hazal scoured through her limited knowledge of Tagalog to try and understand what she’d said. She knew very little of it.
It’s probably a greeting, right? She thought to herself, and figured it was the safest assumption she had.
She shifted her weight between her feet and tried her hardest to greet her back, as politely as she could.
"Uh, ka-usta din ka po?"
Her neighbour paused, squinting for a moment, and the corners of her lips twitched vaguely upward.
“You speak English?” she offered, and Hazal’s cheeks burned.
“Sorry. Was I that bad?”
“I’ve heard worse. Come inside.”
Thank fuck, Hazal sighed to herself, and ducked inside after her neighbour, following her to the elevator. Her neighbour grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her inside and punching in the floor number, and they waited with bated breath as the doors slowly, with a low wail of unmaintained metal, slid shut.
Hazal felt the tension between them like a knife on her throat. It was a chilled bite of metal, a promise that was as much a threat as it was an assurance.
She glanced across the elevator at her neighbour, who seemed to be trying her hardest not to look at her. Was she feeling this same restlessness?
“I’m Hazal,” she offered, and her neighbour shivered as she finally met her eye.
“Tala,” she introduced herself in turn, and just that alone was enough to break them.
Hazal moved for her right as Tala reached up to grab her by the collar, and their lips met hard, almost violently. Tala’s lips were soft and warm, but her teeth were sharp, and she nipped at her lower lip as Hazal cocked her head to deepen their contact. She hissed at the sting.
Hazal pressed her back against the wall of the elevator and Tala held her tight by her lapels, keeping her firmly in place. Hazal ran one hand down Tala’s waist and around to her back, feeling the divots of her spine and the solidity of her muscular form. She was built.
Hazal drew the tip of her tongue over Tala’s lips, tracing the seam between them with languid interest. Tala parted them, making way for her, and Hazal delved inside, huffing through her nose. She kissed Tala like she was marking her, claiming her, and Tala’s vice-grip suggested she had no intention of letting her stop.
The elevator rumbled beneath them, jolting them. Their teeth clacked and they broke apart to wince, but they only parted far enough to feel each other’s breaths warming each other’s lips. Hazal cocked her head, tracing her lips over Tala’s again, but she didn’t lean in to kiss her just yet.
“You should know,” she murmured. “I’m trans.”
“Yeah?” Tala asked, her voice breathless. Her knuckles had turned pale from how hard she was gripping Hazal’s jacket.
“Yes,” Hazal murmured. She moved her head to the side, kissing a line towards Tala’s ear, and Tala cocked her head to the side, giving her more room to work. “Pre-surgery, but I’ve been on hormones for years.”
“Cool,” Tala nodded. She slid a hand up to the back of Hazal’s neck, clinging to her. “Are you, like… cool if I touch you? How do you want to do this?”
“I still enjoy penetration,” Hazal murmured. “I’m more than happy to fuck you senseless, if that's what you want.”
Tala shuddered, her eyes rolling back in her head as Hazal bit down on her earlobe. She curled her fingers, nails scraping against the back of Hazal’s neck, and goosebumps rose over her arms. She rolled her shoulders to dislodge the shiver she’d buried between her shoulders, and moved down to mouth at the bared carotid on Tala’s throat.
“I’ll,” Tala paused to swallow - Hazal felt her throat bobbing against her mouth as she slid her lips and teeth over the skin. “I’ll put my harness away, then. I don’t have condoms, though.”
“I brought them,” Hazal hummed. “I had a feeling where this might lead.”
“Bold,” Tala grinned, and jutted one thigh out to slot it between Hazal’s legs. She ground it there, rubbing back and forth, and pleasant sparks burst up Hazal’s abdomen from where Tala was grinding against her through her pants.
“Siktir,” Hazal cussed, stepping closer, chasing that contact. She couldn’t crush their bodies together at this angle, not if she wanted to keep her mouth sealed over Tala’s throat, and she wanted that very badly. She wanted to mark her, to bite down and leave a mark that told the world of what they’d done here.
“You’re so fucking tall,” Tala groaned, and they both stiffened as the elevator ground to a halt. They parted awkwardly, with Hazal hunching to hide the tent in her pants with her jacket hem, but thankfully, no one else was in the hall.
“I’m average height,” Hazal retorted, stepping out of the elevator with her arm still draped around Tala’s waist.
“Yeah, sure,” Tala rolled her eyes.
“I am,” Hazal insisted, and Tala snickered.
“Maybe wherever you’re from.”
“Türkiye.”
“Right,” Tala shook her head, snorting. “Interesting. Well, you can tell me all about it later.”
“Will do,” Hazal grinned. It was startling how easy it was to fall into rapport with this woman.
She drew Tala close and pushed her back again, flattening her this time against the apartment door. She grabbed Tala’s hands, pinning them above her head, and this time didn’t hold back as she nuzzled into the crook of her neck and bit down.
Tala whined, arching her spine. She turned stiff as Hazal lapped her tongue against the skin she’d bitten, sucking a bruise into her shoulder just low enough that Tala could hide it with a sweater.
“Hazal,” she breathed, reverent, and Hazal almost purred as she finished stamping her mark in Tala’s skin and pulled back to admire it. She admired the bruise through her lowered eyelashes, lazy and content and burning for more, and Tala’s chest heaved as she struggled to keep her breathing steady.
“Çok güzelsin,” she lifted her hand, sliding her fingertips across Tala’s jaw, and Tala cocked her head, following the line of Hazal’s hand. “You’re beautiful.”
Tala’s cheeks flushed. She broke eye contact, her lips twisting into something emotionally constipated and conflicted, but they settled on a small smirk.
“You know,” she lifted one eyebrow. “This isn’t even my door.”
Hazal stepped away, stunned. She’d made an educated guess about which door was Tala’s, guessing from the placement of the door in relation to the street, but clearly she’d guessed wrong.
Tala pointed at the next door over, smirk widening until she was outright baring her teeth.
“Let's go inside and stop bothering my neighbours,” she teased, and Hazal rolled her eyes, stepping back to let her move away from the door.
“You could have said something,” she grumbled, embarrassed, and Tala laughed as she led her to the right apartment and pulled out her keys.
Hazal hovered behind her as she bent to unlock the door. She pressed her hips pointedly to the back of Tala’s and slid a hand down her waist, silently suggestive. Tala chuckled to herself, pressing back into her, and Hazal gripped her waist tighter, tugging her backwards as if they were already naked and she were pulling her back onto her cock.
Tala let out a grunt under her breath. She shuffled her weight between her feet, planting them further apart, and once the door was unlocked, she pressed back into Hazal harder than she needed to as she straightened back upright.
“Get inside,” Tala turned to face her, her expression content but her eyes bright with exhilaration. She ran her hands up Hazal’s stomach to her jacket lapels, grabbing them again. “Before I devour you in front of my neighbours.”
“I rather like the sound of that,” Hazal flashed her teeth, and bit back a laugh as Tala hauled her into her apartment.
They met again, a flurry of fire and snapping teeth and lips on sultry lips. Tala led her backwards through her apartment, knowing her way with surprising grace. They broke apart once they reached her bedroom, both of them gasping for air, their lips warm and tender in their sudden solitude.
Hazal snickered at the sight of the strap and harness Tala had left on her bed. Tala cleared it away as she’d said, packing it into her bedside, and Hazal cocked her brow.
“Was that for you, or for me?” She asked her playfully - from Tala’s body language alone she could tell that she preferred bottoming. Every part of her flirting had been beckoning, taunting her, saying Look how delicious I look, so close but so far away from you. Don't you want to come snatch me up and have your way with me?
She hadn't flirted like a top, but Tala shrugged instead of giving her a clear answer.
“We could have seen what we felt like,” she said, and Hazal pursed her lips, but didn’t protest.
Tala wandered back over, some of the confidence leaving her now they were here. Hazal leaned against her doorframe and opened an arm for her, wrapping it around her waist and pulling her close, until their bodies slotted together.
Tala lifted her chin, craning for her, and Hazal ducked to meet her, brushing her lips softly over Tala’s. For a moment it was gentle, a quiet exploration, like two stranger mares reaching out to brush their muzzles, to flare their nostrils and wash warm breath over the other - a coy greeting between two social creatures who’d forgotten what it felt like to have meaningful company.
That moment of tentative exploration was brief. Once it passed, the fire was back, and Hazal had every intention of letting it consume her.
She slid a hand under the hem of Tala’s shirt and ran it up the length of her spine, feeling her shiver, feeling her ribcage shift as she breathed, feeling her grow antsy and greedy as her desire overtook her nerves.
Tala slid both hands up either side of Hazal’s waist.
“You’re so thin,” she mumbled through the mash-up of their lips. “All bones.”
“Flattering,” Hazal snickered, and nipped at Tala’s bottom lip. “Talking about me like I’m a disappointing rooster you can’t cook.”
“Oh, please,” Tala chuckled in turn, flattening her hands to Hazal’s stomach. She ran one up the line of her buttons and the other down to her belt, and she pointedly hovered there. “I’ll enjoy you no matter how little meat you’ve got.”
“My meat is perfectly average.”
“Of course.”
“Along with my height.”
“Sure, Hazal.”
Hazal grinned wider, ducking to kiss her again, and tugged at Tala’s shirt, toying with the idea of pulling it off. Tala grinned against her lips, pulling Hazal’s belt through the buckle but not quite unbuckling it, and stepped back to lift her shirt over her head.
She was wearing a sports bra beneath, and a smile as bright as sunlight as she tossed her shirt across the room.
Hazal let her eyes drag over Tala’s torso as she worked on unbuckling her own belt. Tala watched her work like a starved vulture, but Hazal didn’t look up at her face. She was still admiring the way the light caught on Tala’s muscles, highlighting her like a marble sculpture.
“Shit, you’re shredded,” she let her desire drip through her words as she spoke, turning her voice gravelly, and Tala smugly shrugged.
“I work hard.”
“Clearly,” Hazal shook her head, but the fog of her desire stubbornly stayed put. Instead of fighting to regain clarity, she undid her belt and let it hang free as she turned her attention to her jeans.
Tala stepped forward, hands already reaching for her. She took over, pulling the button of her jeans free from its loop and pulling down the zip, and Hazal let her work, content to watch her greediness unfold.
She reached up to drag her fingers through Tala’s hair, gripping a fistful at the back of her head, similarly to how she would if Tala were on her knees in front of her. The implication was clear - it was dominant, possessive. Tala shivered and redoubled her efforts.
She yanked her jeans down around her thighs and stumbled back to take off her own shorts, and Hazal shimmied out of her jeans, fishing her condoms out of their pocket before kicking them aside entirely.
She rolled her shoulders to shrug her jacket off but Tala caught her, grabbing one lapel.
“Wait,” she flushed, her face dark. “Keep that on.”
“Oh, yes?” Hazal smirked. “You must like it.”
“Clearly,” Tala mimicked her, bobbing her eyebrows, and Hazal grinned as she stepped closer to kiss the sneer from her lips.
Kissing her was as effortless as spreading honey over warmed bread. She melted into her - something about Tala softened her, turned her malleable, and she reached out to blend with her like she didn’t have a lifetime of running to defend herself under her belt.
She shivered as Tala dragged her nails down her stomach.
What have you done to me, Tala? Hazal tilted to her head, grunting into Tala’s mouth.
She pulled back just far enough to finish undressing - she took her jacket off just long enough to take off her shirt and bra, which Tala protested to until Hazal’s bra fell to the floor and her nipple piercings were bared to the air. At that, she fell hungrily silent, eyes trained on Hazal’s breasts.
“I like your piercings,” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the rampant hunger was evident in her voice, and in the darkness that had flooded her eyes.
“Thank you,” Hazal didn’t even try to bite back her smirk. She pulled her jacket back on, shifting her shoulders to make sure it lay comfortably over here bare skin. Like this, she was naked except for her jacket and boxers, and her cock was straining through her pants as if it were trying to break through.
Tala rushed to shed the rest of her clothes, all restraint gone from her now. Hazal fished a condom from the pack for later, tossing it onto Tala’s bedside, and before she could turn around to face her, Tala had grabbed Hazal by the lapel and hauled her sideways onto the bed.
She toppled onto it with her limbs flailing, a startled squawk escaping as she was pulled off her feet, but she laughed as she gathered her bearings again.
“Someone’s eager,” she managed through her laughter, watching as Tala crawled over the top of her and straddled her hips. She rested her hands on her waist, feeling her muscles shift as Tala began to roll and grind her hips against Hazal’s.
"Putangina,” she hissed. “Kinailangan ko toh..."
“What was that?” Hazal guided her hips with a slow back-and-forth drag of her wrists.
“Hah?” Tala sounded breathless, her eyes bleary as she met Hazal’s gaze.
“Was I supposed to know what that means?”
Tala snorted, shaking her head. She rested one hand against Hazal’s collar, both holding her in place and anchoring herself as she began to rut her hips against Hazal’s in earnest.
“Just sit there looking pretty,” she teased. “And let me enjoy the view.”
“Whatever you say, princess,” Hazal rolled her eyes, but she slid a hand between their hips to spread Tala apart. She was already soaking her through her boxers - she wouldn’t need much preparation, Hazal guessed. She was hot and soft, swollen and supple in her arousal, and she parted around Hazal’s fingers easily.
Hazal dragged two fingers against Tala’s entrance, gathering her slick onto her fingers, and then pulled them up to find her clit. She teased a slow circle around it, relishing the soft cry Tala let out in response.
“You’re soaking,” Hazal all but growled. “You needed me this bad?”
“Fuck,” Tala gasped, rutting her hips against Hazal’s fingers, chasing the contact. “Yes, yeah, I do.”
She trembled at the torturous crook of Hazal’s hand, thrusting herself into the contact to grind her own clit against her fingertips.
She’d reacted well to Hazal’s dirty talk. A shudder had rolled down her spine with the intensity of a wave at the words. Hazal narrowed her eyes, curious, and decided to prod that same nerve, and to see where it would take her.
“Filthy girl,” she purred, pressing her fingers flat against Tala’s clit and letting her grind against her as she wanted. “So needy. So messy. You’ve made a mess of my hand already and we’ve only just started.”
Tala grunted, the sound strangled, and rutted harder against Hazal’s fingers.
“Inside,” she directed, apparently too wound up to manage anything more articulate. Hazal grinned, baring her teeth, and slid her hand down to find her entrance and plunge two fingers inside.
The inside of her was scalding. She was somehow on fire and drenched at the same time, like a burning coat of oil that burned on the top of a rolling wave. She clenched down around Hazal’s fingers as she curled them against her front wall, searching for that sensitive point inside of her that she knew was likely buried somewhere there.
She found it. The patch of skin was rougher to the touch than the rest of her, and she dragged her fingers lazily across it as she withdrew her hand. Tala jolted in place, her breath stuttering in her chest, and she buried her nails into where they were still planted on Hazal’s chest.
“Sige pa,” she panted, rolling her hips clumsily against Hazal’s hand. “Sige pa, please…”
Hazal vaguely knew what that meant. With the context, she knew enough to understand it was likely urging her on.
“I know,” she soothed her, her tone gentle, coaxing. “You need this so bad, canım, I know you do.”
Tala cursed under her breath, rocking her hips more sharply. She was rutting them to the side, dragging her clit over the meat of Hazal's palm, and Hazal felt her arousal smearing wet over her hand. She truly was soaked.
Tala’s eyes rolled back into her skull. Her walls were clamping down around her in a rolling wave, radiating from her abdomen downwards. Her breath was turning taut and thin as her body began to lock down, coiling more and more of her into something rigid.
With a smirk, Hazal pulled her fingers out and dragged her hand away, leaving Tala teetering on the brink.
Tala groaned loudly, her frustration evident, and she continued to grind against Hazal’s groin, even if it wasn’t going to give her the same stimulation as a careful hand.
Hazal pointedly met her eye and put her fingers into her own mouth, sucking them clean. Tala’s expression clouded, something bloodthirsty in her eyes, and she lifted herself off of Hazal so her hips were freed.
“Take your pants off,” she ordered with a coarse voice, and leaned across the bed to snatch the condom Hazal had left on the bedside table. She grumbled to herself as she fumbled with the wrapper. “Gago ka, fuck, tangina nakakainis.”
“Again,” Hazal chuckled, licking her lips. “Am I supposed to be understanding any of this?”
“Be grateful you don’t,” Tala pouted, and urgently patted her on the thigh, wordlessly begging her to move faster. “Come on, don't make me wait.”
Hazal lifted her hips to shimmy out of her pants while Tala fished the condom out of its wrapper. Her cock twitched as it hit the air - it wasn’t cold, not here, but it splayed up across her belly just inches away from Tala, and her body was craning for her.
Tala hummed her appreciation at the sight of her. She tossed the condom wrapper away, holding the rubber in her other hand, and ran her hand slowly up Hazal’s hip, just inches away from her.
She shot her a look, wordlessly asking a question - can I touch?
Hazal nodded, her heart aching as it skipped every other beat in her excitement, and Tala cupped a hand around her shaft, pumping it experimentally back and forth.
Pleasure bolted from Hazal’s cock to her brain and her spine twitched. A soft grunt forced itself from between her teeth, and Tala smirked, pleased at having gotten a reaction out of her.
“You know,” she lifted one eyebrow as she shuffled back and began to roll the condom down Hazal’s length. “If you’re living here, you should really be trying to learn the language.”
“Yeah…” Hazal was focusing more on her breathing than her response. She was concerned, more than anything, that she’d burst only a few strokes into this, given how long it had been since she’d been with anyone. She was still finishing quickly even with her own hand - she didn’t want to embarrass herself.
“Have you lived in Manila for long?” Tala took Hazal’s cock into her hand again once it had been sheathed, tracing her thumb under the lip of its head. Hazal shivered - that spot was sensitive.
“Ngh…” she rolled her shoulders before clearing her throat and answering her properly. “...Not long. A few weeks before we started… yeah.”
“I see,” Tala softly smiled, and Hazal narrowed her eyes, a question suddenly springing into her mind.
“I’m surprised you were so open to the idea,” she admitted. “I’d expected you to be upset with me when you caught me looking at you.”
Tala hummed noncommittally, not giving her much of an answer either way. She continued to slowly stroke Hazal, exploring her.
“Go on,” Hazal urged her, although the effect was lost a little as a particularly sharp stab of pleasure tightened her chest, making her voice hitch upwards in pitch. “Why didn’t you care?”
Tala snorted, shaking her head.
“Funny thing, Hazal,” she smirked. “I’m guessing you were watching me for a while before I caught you, right?”
Hazal nodded, and her breathing turned rapid as Tala balanced on her knees, sitting up and using her hand to direct Hazal’s shaft between her legs. She traced it back and forth, curving her hips to rut her clit against the blunt heat of her, before pushing it further back and pressing her against her entrance.
“Well,” Tala looked down, watching where their bodies met. “I noticed you moving in. I’d been watching you, too, since you were first unpacking your bags.”
Without waiting for her to respond, she thrust her hips down, spearing herself on Hazal with precision. In unison, both of them let out a strangled groan. It was a pleasant chorus, an echo of enjoyment and of frustration finally eased.
Tala was so tight around her. She burned, still, and her walls clamped down around her in ridged, scalding waves. Hazal wondered in the back of her mind whether they’d catch alight, and burn right up before they’d even had the chance to finish.
“Fuck,” Tala hissed through her teeth, jogging her hips steadily downward, taking Hazal in half-inch increments. Hazal reached for her, resting one hand on her thigh and the other on her waist, feeling her muscles shift under her skin as she rolled her hips.
Tala rested both her hands on Hazal’s abdomen, her fingers resting just beneath her breasts. She leaned slightly forward, her weight shifting between her hands and then back onto her ankles as she rocked back and forth, sliding onto Hazal as patiently, as carefully, as if she were threading a needle.
“Shit,” Hazal huffed as Tala’s grip wavered, rolling down in waves as it had done around her fingers. She ran her thumb in circles over her thigh, driven to caress her even if they were still new to each other’s company.
Tala curved one hand, cupping Hazal’s breast in one hand. She could bottom out now, and let out a deep sigh that almost sounded relieved as she began to lift and drop herself much more fully. She took Hazal to the hilt and then rose almost to her tip.
“So, you,” Hazal wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, fighting to keep her voice even. “You liked what you saw, I take it?”
“I wouldn’t have kept looking otherwise,” Tala dragged her eyes down Hazal’s body. She slid her fingers under the zipper of her jacket, pulling it a little further back so Hazal’s nipples both peered through, bared. “Fuck, these are pretty.”
“The piercings or the tits?”
Tala only hummed her response, lips curling smugly, but the expression faltered as Hazal planted her feet and thrust up against her, meeting her on her next downward stroke.
“Tangina…”
“You like that, too?” Hazal bared her teeth. She held Tala’s hips a little tighter, letting her pull back up but then pulling hard on her next downward thrust, clapping their hips together more forcefully. Tala cried out at the audible slap their bodies made.
"Sige,” she gasped, eyes fluttering almost shut, but Hazal could see her watching her through her eyelashes. “Ibaon mo pa. Tangina mo talaga, ang landi landi mo."
Hazal didn’t bother asking, this time, whether or not she was supposed to understand. She could recognise the impish little twitch at the corner of Tala’s lips - she was doing this on purpose. Whether it was to tease her or merely to keep her filthier thoughts private, Hazal didn’t know, but Tala was speaking Tagalog intentionally, knowing she couldn’t understand.
Hazal pulled her down again, grunting at the next wet clap of their hips. Her chest did something unpleasant and feral at the sight of Tala’s tits bobbing at the impact.
“You’re staring at me,” Tala grinned, breathless, and Hazal swallowed hard, fighting a wash of pleasure that threatened to lock her mouth shut. She managed to overcome it and form a response, although it came out softer than she’d intended.
“It’s just…” she twitched as Tala’s walls gripped her tighter, turning her vision briefly white. “...Nice to see you up close.”
Tala’s eyes widened. Her smile faded, but she didn’t stop moving. Her chest seemed to stutter, and she bent further over Hazal, pressing her nails into the soft skin just below her breasts. For a moment she stopped, taking a deep, trembling breath, and then she pulled back, lifting her hands away.
Tala shifted herself, turning until her back mostly faced Hazal. One of her knees was planted between Hazal’s legs, and she pulled Hazal’s leg up until she could grind against her thigh while she thrust down on her.
“Okay?” she glanced over her shoulder at Hazal, who could only nod, her face suddenly burning at the sight of Tala’s back up close.
This had been the first way she’d seen her, back on that first day. She’d noticed these muscles, powerful and trained, and the sight had burrowed into her like a horny little parasite.
Fuck, she looked good.
Tala kept a firm grip on Hazal’s leg, holding it in place. She began to rut against her again, redoubling her speed, but on each downward thrust, she smeared her hips against Hazal’s thigh. The pressure against her clit must have done something right, because only two thrusts in, she let her head fall back and shrilly whined.
“Loud,” Hazal chuckled. “I should have guessed you’d be loud.”
Tala groaned again on her next thrust, firmly ignoring her - if anything, she’d gotten a little louder, likely out of spite. She let her head tilt to the side, watching Hazal over her shoulder through hazy, fuck-drunk eyes.
"Umungol ka pa para sakin,” she purred. “Gusto mo yan?"
Hazal’s stomach fluttered, and she bit back a grunt. She grabbed Tala’s hips, pulling her down again and holding her there, where she rolled her hips up against her slowly, tantalising. She stretched one hand over her waist to bury it between them, finding her clit, and Tala yelped as Hazal pressed down hard.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she panted, watching Tala squirm around her fingers. “You like that? You’re such a fucking mess. Beautiful girl, I know you want me.”
“Fuck,” Tala’s voice cracked. “You…”
“Yes,” Hazal coaxed, voice gentle even as the words she used were filth. “You want me to use you until you can’t walk? You wanna pretend you’re in control so I can snatch it back from you?”
Tala shuddered, canting her hips forward into Hazal’s hand, chasing the contact. Hazal released her grip, thrusting her hips up and into Tala to encourage her to start moving again. She did, with her hips shaking, and as she went, Hazal followed with her hand slung over Tala’s thigh, threatening to curl between her legs and blind her with another wretched drag against her clit.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hazal groaned. “Fuck… Look at you.”
Tala shivered so violently it was visible even from where Hazal lay back in the sheets, vision blurring from the joy bursting from her abdomen up her spine.
“Sh-” Tala’s hips stuttered, and Hazal felt her walls clamp down tightly around her. “Shit, stay there, stay…”
She held Hazal’s leg tightly in place, pulling her further upright and gyrating her hips against it. She kept her thrusts shallow, more focused on grinding herself against the leg she held desperately to her chest, and Hazal ran a hand up the plane of her back as Tala chased this bolt of pleasure.
Her body was coiling, her body going taut. Hazal watched the changes overtake her bit by bit - her thighs started to shudder, her thrusts lost their smooth rhythm and instead turned into something jerky and coarse, her breath wheezed down into nothing.
Earlier than I’d expected, Hazal smiled. But at least I’m not the only one who won't last.
Tala fucked herself on Hazal, on her cock and her thigh, until she forced herself over that edge with a guttural sigh. When she came, her spine curled up and out, with Tala’s head falling back so her breath escaped up toward the ceiling, and her walls rolled down tightly around her with the slow, immense pressure of a wave.
Hazal groaned, burying her nails into the skin at the base of Tala’s spine.
“Sıçıyım,” she cussed under her breath, watching as Tala continued to try and rut against her, chasing the high of her first orgasm even while it locked her body in place.
Tala was shaking, her face hazy and unfocused as she turned to watch her again over her shoulder, and she shot Hazal a dazzling smile, sweetened by her endorphins but still filthy.
“Gusto mo yan, diba?” She grinned wider as she spoke, and Hazal could have sworn her teeth were lined by starlight itself. “Yung binabastos ka. Sige pa, baby.”
“Tala,” Hazal urged, some desperation of her own leaking into her voice. “Let me hear you. Let me understand.”
Some defiance flared into Tala’s expression at that. She was still lost in the fog of her post-orgasm, but her grin softened, becoming something… defensive? Hazal couldn’t quite tell.
“Init na init na ko dito oh,” she said stubbornly, pressing a hand onto Hazal’s stomach. “Sige na, baby oh, ayaw mo bang kinakantot ako? Init na init na ko para sayo.”
Okay. Hazal narrowed her eyes.
If Tala wanted to play, Hazal had some tricks of her own.
She planted her feet, taking Tala by the waist again, and began to pick them back up to their previous pace, rolling her hips up to meet Tala’s until she bounced in the air after each thrust.
Tala cried out, eyes rolling back into her skull, and seemed to go limp, relaxing into what Hazal was doing to her.
"İşte bu,” Hazal purred, slipping into Turkish to give Tala a taste of her own medicine, to show her what it sounded like to listen to such clearly filthy flirting without understanding a word of it. If this was a game, Tala would play it with her. “Böyle devam et."
Tala’s voice cracked as she cried out. Her hips jolted and jerked, losing their previous grace; whether it was an after-effect from her orgasm or simply growing flustered that Hazal had decided to fight back with Tala’s own weapon, Hazal wasn’t sure. Either way, she was stumbling, the ability to lift herself slipping away through her fingers.
For a while, Hazal left it. If Tala was only flustered, she stood the chance of regaining control over her own legs and getting back into things. Hazal didn’t want to patronise her by taking over at the first sign of a fumble.
She watched, and waited, but Tala struggled a few more times to lift herself on trembling legs, only to collapse down onto Hazal's hips, gasping for breath. She let her head duck down, one arm still wrapped around Hazal’s knee to anchor herself to that leg.
“Hey,” Hazal gentled at once, pushing herself up. Tala hissed at the change in position - Hazal lifting herself pressed her between Hazal’s body and thigh, pressing her clit into the bone of her thigh.
Tala lifted her head, glancing back at her, and Hazal ducked her face into the groove of her shoulder, kissing the sticky skin and tasting salt on her lips.
They were both sweating, but Tala’s skin shone in particular after her orgasm.
“Allow me?” Hazal asked softly, her lips brushing over Tala’s throat. She could feel her coarse breathing against her lips, could feel her quietly trembling in her arms.
Tala let out a slow breath that whistled in her throat, and she nodded. She pulled herself off of Hazal, turning to the side to slump into her mattress, but Hazal patted her on the waist.
“Turn over,” she encouraged, and slipped one of Tala’s pillows under her hips as Tala rolled onto her front.
“You’re into muscles, huh?” She teased her as Hazal bent over her back, sliding her legs between Tala’s.
“You can hardly blame me,” Hazal brushed her lips over Tala’s nape, and then granted herself a moment to explore. Tala’s back was broad and chiselled, and the indents lining her muscles shifted under the feather-touch of Hazal’s lips.
She ran her teeth over both shoulders, feeling her quiver. She drew her tongue along one of those muscle-seams, grunting at the salt from Tala’s sweat.
There was a scar crossing her spine. It ran down the length of it for a while, married on either side by keyhole scars. Had she gone through surgery that had needed to change from from laparoscopic to open?
It was a story for another day, and one Hazal wasn’t entitled to. She wouldn’t pry.
Instead, she leaned down, kissing the nexus of the scar, which was marred by multiple cuts that gnarled the skin. Tala shuddered at her touch, her gasp audibly ragged, and Hazal ran her hand up the side of her ribs. They shook as they rose and fell along with her breathing.
“Güzel,” Hazal whispered against her skin. “You're gorgeous.”
Tala whimpered, burying her face in her sheets, and Hazal decided to stop torturing her. She was clearly overwhelmed with the affection, but she craned her hips back as Hazal repositioned herself and thrust back inside.
Tala arched her spine against the mattress as if she could crush herself into it and let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a gasp. It was breathy and sharp, and followed by a slow, deep sigh as Hazal leaned in to mouth down the side of her neck.
“Breathe,” Hazal coaxed her as she rolled her body against Tala’s, thrusting slow but deep. Tala reached up to grab clumsy fistfuls of her mattress, just desperate for something to hold.
"Ang ganda ganda mo pag ganito,” she whispered, her voice muffled by her bed - she wasn’t even trying to look back at Hazal over her shoulder anymore. Even masked by the mattress, Tala’s voice was reverent and fragile, breaking halfway through.
“Talk to me, kızım,” Hazal nipped at her ear. Tala clamped down around her at the sting, and Hazal’s vision blurred. “Tell me what you want.”
She held her weight with her elbows resting on either side of Tala, and shifted sideways onto only one of them so the other could reach down and hold Tala by the waist. She didn’t quite hold her down, not with her body already doing that, but she felt the impact that rippled up her body at each thrust and preened at the effect she was having on her.
Hazal only started slow. They were already wound up, with Tala still shaking after her last orgasm and winding up for a second, and Hazal’s eager body on track to race clear over the finish line before long, eager after so long without this.
It might have been embarrassing if Tala weren’t just as desperate and needy as her.
“Talk to me, Tala,” Hazal urged her, her own voice coming out strangled and taut, wrenched out of place as her body began to tighten. “Tell me.”
“Hazal,” Tala lifted her face from the mattress to beg. “Hazal, please, please.”
“I’m here,” Hazal promised her, even as her body tried to close her throat and silence her. She was coiling, tightening, the corners of her vision flickering between black and white.
"Sige pa, baby,” Tala gasped, her body shaking, jerking, just as tightly as Hazal’s. “Putok mo sa loob.”
Hazal didn’t understand exactly what she’d said, but she didn’t need to. It was clear just from the croon in her tone, from the sultry desperation and the aching that seemed to encompass her, that it had been an invitation.
With a grunt, Hazal bit down on the corner of Tala’s shoulder, where the meat thickened and curved up towards her neck. She slammed their hips together, listening with a sick sort of contentment to the wet noise of their bodies colliding, and her world spun as she unloaded inside of her.
Tala made a guttural noise and speared a hand underneath herself. She sought out her clit, pushing herself over the edge, and Hazal continued to roll her hips with as much grace as she could manage, although her world was spinning and her muscles were so tightly wound it was difficult to even unclench her jaw.
Tala’s walls tightened as she tumbled into her second orgasm, but this time, she didn't cry out. Her back arched and she parted her teeth as if to yelp, but all that came out was a tiny wheeze.
Tala stiffened to near complete stillness as her release washed over her, and then she slumped into the bed, exhausted. Hazal, hazy in her post-orgasm, rocked her body until her knees gave out, and she sagged onto Tala’s back with her face pressed into her damp hair.
For a while they only gasped for breath, both of them strangled by exhaustion, but Hazal clawed her way back to coherence just long enough to pull out and dispose of the condom.
She returned to slump back into bed, this time next to Tala instead of on top of her. Tala had calmed since Hazal had left her - her breathing had slowed and she'd shifted onto her side, legs still splayed open and her hands pulled close to her chest.
Hazal mirrored her, lying on her side and looking back at her as Tala opened her heavy-lidded eyes to watch her settle.
“Hey,” she greeted her softly, sounding tired. Hazal couldn't blame her - the same fatigue wore her own limbs like lead.
“Hi,” she answered, drawing her hair back over her neck and biting back the urge to yawn. Her body was content and drained, and now she was here, she found a pull drawing her down into Tala’s mattress, beckoning her to shut her eyes and drift away.
She wouldn't. She couldn't, not on a first meeting, not if she wanted to make a good first impression.
Warmth blossomed gently on her cheeks, feeling softer, less volatile than it had been before. She turned her face towards the mattress, nuzzling the fabric and willing the fluttering in her chest to stop.
It had been a while since she’d felt such an easy connection with someone. They hadn't done much talking, but Hazal found her easy to read and remarkably non-threatening.
Maybe it was because they weren't really strangers, not anymore. They'd spent enough time conversing through their windows without a word spoken that now the dam was broken, words came easily.
She liked her. She liked the way it felt to lie here next to her, hearing another person breathe without the beeping of hospital machines and without the stubborn, distrustful crawling under her skin that most left her with.
Tala watched her through her lashes, a quietly vulnerable look on her face. She bit her lip, turning thoughts over in her head, but Hazal couldn't read what was on her mind. She didn't feel frightened enough to analyse her more deeply than that.
The world began to bob and blacken.
Shit, she grunted to herself, blinking hard to chase away the verge of sleep. She needed to tackle this head-on if she wanted to stay awake.
Tala was still watching her, silent. Devoid of any other ideas on how to save herself, Hazal reached for the first thought that popped into her head.
“Can I use your shower?”
-
Tala’s shower was nice - certainly nicer than Hazal’s.
She had a line of hair products and shower gels lined along a shelf on her shower wall, and Hazal couldn’t help but snoop through them, taking note of the scents she liked.
Most didn't surprise her. She’d smelled them on her skin and in her hair, even through their sweat and the distinct smell of sex.
She favoured fruits, namely citrus and other tropical scents. Hazal cocked her head as she read through a line of products labelled lemongrass, smoothie blend, coconut, berries, and one mint-scented shower gel so sharp that when Hazal lifted it to her nose, it stung so sharply it was almost metallic.
Tala’s taste became her. It was warm, friendly, but still quiet, without much bold exploration. Hazal recognised her in it, even though it felt silly to admit.
If she were honest, she’d also admit that this was screaming of a girlish crush, stupid and immature and dangerous, especially given how fragile she was feeling in the wake of his loss.
If she were smart, she’d turn and walk out of this apartment, and she’d crush all thoughts of Tala under her heel where it couldn’t hurt her.
As it was, well… Maybe she was dishonest and maybe she was an idiot, because she scrubbed Tala’s shampoo through her hair with a flutter in her chest at the thought of smelling like her, and she returned to the bedroom eager to talk to her again.
Tala had pulled her shirt and underwear back on, although the rest of her was still bare. She’d sat up against her headboard with her phone in her hand and a giant plush pulled into her lap - was that an octopus?
Hazal cocked her head, smirking at the toy.
“You all right? Inking about life?” she teased, cringing at her own joke but too damn tongue-tied to think of anything more clever.
Tala looked up at her, blinking quizzically, and Hazal gestured to the plush in her lap.
“You know, because of the octopus.”
Tala gasped in what Hazal hoped was faux-offence, and clutched the toy closer to her chest.
“I beg your pardon,” she scowled. “Her name is Squish-Squish, and she is a squid.”
“She what?” Hazal felt her eyes boggle. “She doesn't look anything like a squid. Squids have entirely different anatomy; their tentacles are-”
“Hoy! Tama na nga! Dami mo sinasabi!”
“All right!” Hazal raised her hands in surrender, but she was chuckling as she relented. “Shit, I didn’t realise you felt so strongly about this.”
“You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“A thousand pardons. I hope she isn't too traumatised.”
“Yes, well,” Tala grumbled, but her lips were tugging upward as she rested the abomination of a squid back in her lap. “Mind your manners next time and maybe she’ll recover.”
Hazal snickered as she got back into bed next to her, sitting up with her at the headboard and tucking her knees up to her chest. She hugged them, resting her cheek on one arm and glancing over at Tala.
She was finishing up a text, hammering the screen with both thumbs, and once it fired away, she tossed the phone across the bed, heaving a sigh.
Hazal’s chest twisted and she bit back her affection. This was embarrassing - she was fawning over the smallest things Tala did, like she’d regressed into some kind of schoolgirl.
Tala met her eye, scouring her face. Hazal wondered what she was looking for.
“So,” Tala asked. “What are you doing here?”
Hazal raised one eyebrow.
“You invited me?”
“Not here here, smartass,” Tala rolled her eyes, nudging Hazal with one elbow. “I mean in the Philippines. You said you were from Türkiye?”
“Yes,” Hazal wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, her stomach suddenly turning. “I did.”
That voice in the back of her mind was back. Danger, it cried, pleading with her to listen. This is dangerous.
She knew where this would go. Tala would ask why she moved, and then she’d pry further and further, until Hazal’s very ribs were pulled apart and spread to bare the broken remains of her heart.
She couldn’t tell her the truth of why she moved. Even now, his death was something she couldn’t bear thinking about. It was far too revealing to admit that she’d moved here to escape the screaming in her own head, utterly convinced that there was nothing for her except a spiral of grief that would eventually put her in the ground right next to him.
She gripped her own upper arm, holding herself for some small comfort.
“Well, why?” Tala shrugged. “It’s a long way to move.”
“I got a job,” Hazal answered coolly - it wasn’t a lie. It was just the only part of the truth Tala needed to know.
“That’s it?” Tala frowned. “Not many people would pack up their entire lives and move halfway around the world just for a job offer. Does it pay well or something? Didn’t you have family back home that’ll miss you?”
Danger. Panic careened in her mind like a siren turning over on itself, flooding even the corners of her skull with bright red light.
“The pay’s fine, I guess,” Hazal looked away, suddenly finding eye contact far too penetrating to bear. Tala stared at her for a while, clearly thinking hard, but eventually gave up.
“All right,” she quietly sighed, and didn’t attempt to push her any further. Hazal was grateful for it; her chest was already coiling around that familiar point of tension that lingered just at the back of her breastbone, pulling back like a snake preparing itself to strike.
He was, even now and forever more, her greatest weakness. For years, he’d been her source of strength, but now he was gone, she walked on fragile legs, waiting for the day something would breeze by and shatter her.
If she could, she’d spare Tala the sight. Breaking was a habit fit for ceramic, not flesh and bone, and when she fell, Hazal preferred to do so in private.
She swallowed hard, attempting to force down the growing lump in her throat, and changed the subject.
“You work here too, I guess?” She winced at herself as she asked. It was a shitty question, but it drew the attention off of herself.
“I guess,” Tala shot her a pointed look of which Hazal couldn’t quite grasp the meaning.
“What is it you do?”
“Nothing interesting,” Tala sighed, stretching out her spine and lying flatter against the wall. She drummed her fingertips against her own thigh in a somewhat nervous tic - why was she nervous? “I’m a lawyer, a defence attorney. I mostly handle small claims disputes - higher profile cases are too stressful for me. My nanay’s in a similar line of work, so it made sense.”
“Oh,” Hazal’s eyebrows raised. “Not what I expected.”
“Why?” Tala cocked her brow. “The hair?”
“A little,” Hazal admitted honestly - she didn’t see the point in lying. “And you exercise so often, part of me assumed you were a personal trainer or something.”
“Mm,” Tala’s expression softened, growing distant. “Maybe in another life.”
Hazal cocked her head. There was something clouding Tala’s face - wistfulness? Regret?
“You wish you were,” she commented. “Don’t you?”
Tala’s eyes sharpened, the quiet longing clearing from her lips and stubbornness taking its place. She opened her mouth as if to respond, but only a small sound came out before she cut herself off, trailing into nothing. She looked away again, clearing her throat.
“...Sometimes, yes,” she managed, although it sounded like admitting it felt like pulling teeth. “I won’t deny it’s something I’d enjoy more, but I make a decent living doing what I do, and my mom’s proud of me.”
Hazal hummed her quiet acknowledgement. There was much Tala left unsaid, but she didn’t need to.
Hazal’s parents had cut her off over a decade ago, now, but she still remembered the crushing weight of trying to please them. She’d spent years trying desperately to be the child they’d wanted - dominant, confident, conservative, a son. She’d gone to such lengths to try and mould herself to their will, but all she’d found at the end of that road was misery.
She couldn’t imagine going back to living that way, now, not when she knew what it felt like to be true to herself, but she could hardly tell Tala to shrug off her parents’ expectations and chase her dreams. It was her choice to make, her battle to win, and Hazal didn’t know her nearly well enough to try and nudge her towards a career change.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” was all she could bring herself to say, and Tala nodded, seemingly grateful for it. Hazal wondered if her friends were pushing her already, and if she’d been dreading Hazal would only add to the pressure she wished she could escape from.
She didn’t know how Tala felt, not wholly, but she understood enough to know how exhausted she must have been by it all.
Familial pressure was a weight that never let up, a foot that would never lift from your neck, and just the way Tala held herself said enough about how long she’d been struggling with it. The last thing she needed was for Hazal to complicate things further.
She felt for her. Hazal’s chest panged, irritating her somewhat. Her body seemed to react to anything she noticed about Tala, and she was noticing far too much, far too easily.
She might have crushed it had she not been starving for so long.
For a while they talked about almost nothing.
Hazal complimented Tala’s apartment, and Tala joked that what little she could see of Hazal’s looked terribly bare.
Tala asked how much of the city Hazal had explored, and scolded her for her lack of adventurous spirit when Hazal admitted she’d gone to see very little of it. Manila was a beautiful city, but Hazal had lost most of her taste for beauty in recent months.
She found out that Tala had a dog that lived with her parents - an askal named Kidlat, who Tala had found and rescued as a teenager. She’d found him at a vulnerable time - she was friendless and lonely, taking extensive time out of school to recover from surgeries that had kept her shut away for quite some time.
In return, Hazal told her about Köri, the cat she’d rescued herself back in Istanbul, but who she’d had to surrender to her neighbour when she moved. She spoke of him with pain weeping in her chest, but it was a story she could still bear to tell, unlike most.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tala had said, her face falling. “You must miss him.”
“I do, but he’s all right. Neriman Teyze adores him - she spoils him even more than I did.”
Hazal couldn’t bear to admit that she’d given him up even before taking the job, since her grief had cut her so deeply that she simply couldn’t take care of him as well as he deserved.
With each little detail they shared of each other’s lives, Hazal felt that pull in her chest, that string that tied her to Tala, tugging more and more insistently. She liked this girl, as ill-advised as that felt.
By the time she got dressed and headed back to her own apartment, she felt positively fucked in the head.
What had she gotten herself into? Could she even stomach a connection like this?
She didn’t know, but in truth, she was excited to try. It had been a long time since she’d had a friend, let alone anything deeper.
She got some sleep and woke the next day with some fresh resolve. She would make this work, as well as she could, and she’d try not to worry unless she had to.
She needed this. It was a small light in a life that had grown far too shaded, and regardless of the danger, she couldn’t afford to hide from it.
She got up, got herself a coffee, and glanced through the window to Tala’s apartment across the street. She didn’t think Tala would be awake so early, or if she was, she’d be out for a run, but she still liked to check, just in case.
Tala’s window was shut, and a blind had been pulled down, blocking out anything inside it.
Hazal cocked her head, bewildered. In all the time she’d known Tala, she’d never seen her block her window.
She tried not to worry about it. There was an explanation for this, one that didn’t lie in a fault of Hazal’s, or in Tala’s anger. There’d be an answer that meant things would be fine, that they’d go back to their usual routine. Hazal was sure of it - or, at least, she tried to be.
This was a fluke, nothing more.
She went about her day, convincing herself of her nonchalance, but later that day, Tala’s window was still blocked.
Hazal’s heart sank. Still, she tried to tell herself that it meant nothing, and that she hadn’t somehow messed things up before they’d even started.
It was blocked the next day, too, and the next, and the day after that, and as time drew by, Hazal began to feel a familiar, terrible shadow creeping into the edges of her mind.
Nausea began to ravage her whenever she tried to make herself eat. Coffee began to lose its taste. The world, which had just started to regain its colour, faded back to the dull, painful grey which had plagued her ever since his death.
It was grief, crushing her all over again, and there was nothing she could do except beg it to stop and pray it listened.
Why did this hurt so badly? She’d barely known Tala. She didn’t even know what she’d done to drive her away.
She could only guess.
Maybe something she’d done had upset her in hindsight, or maybe she’d simply not enjoyed Hazal’s company in person and decided to end their situationship before it could expand any further. Maybe with their cresting arousal dealt with, Tala had realised that she didn’t really want her attention, and sought to cut it off at its source instead of having to say so to her face.
Hazal didn’t know. She knew nothing, and instead of facing her grief on even ground, she numbed herself until she felt nothing, too.
She hadn’t expected another loss so soon. She hadn’t expected this loss to cut her so deeply, not when she and Tala had barely known each other.
She wept into her pillow and cursed her own fragility, and she tried to imagine a future where she could stand on her own two feet, not beholden to anyone and free from this plague that felt like it might rot the flesh from her bones.
For whatever reason, Tala had decided their fling was done, and all Hazal could do was live with that. For him, in spite of it all, she had to live.
-
If someone had asked Tala what had gone through her mind the night after she’d met Hazal, she’d have bristled and told them exactly where to stick it. It wasn’t any of their damn business.
That would have been her excuse, at least, for avoiding a question she had no idea how to answer.
She’d liked Hazal. She’d liked Hazal a great deal - far more than she’d expected to like a woman she knew primarily through eye-fucking each other from across the street.
It had been stupid to invite her over. It had been even more stupid to entertain this to start with.
She reminded herself of that stupidity at each opportunity over the next two days. She thought of it every time she instinctively looked over at the window she’d blocked in a panic, every time she saw the hickey Hazal had left on her collarbone, just below her shirts’ neckline, every time she scrubbed herself in the shower and imagined how Hazal’s fingers had felt on her skin, picturing them in place of her own.
It had been a stupid mistake, and one that would only result in hurting both of them.
Great job, Valdez, she told herself sourly as she stepped out of the shower, tracing her fingers over her hickey and aching, aching, aching. You’re not just easy, but you’re easy and a bitch.
She should have just ignored her. She should have greeted her with nothing more than a scathing look for staring at her and maybe a distant nod if they passed each other on the street.
As it was, she’d been desperate for the attention, and she’d chased a risky high that had turned around to bite her.
Anxiety rolled over in her gut, sending shockwaves of pain rippling outward. It reverberated in her lungs, urging her to take a deep breath, and it settled into the creases of her belly, hiding in places she’d never be able to reach.
It had been six months since Maxim left her.
Tala was doing better now. She’d loved Maxim, and she’d tried her hardest to make it work, but, well… Maxim hadn’t seemed to love her nearly as much.
It had been little things, more of them than Tala could count. In the weeks following their breakup, she’d thought back, putting more and more pieces together and recontextualising their relationship in her head, and she’d seen so many slights she’d been blind to in her affection.
Fuck, towards the end, she’d barely seemed to like her.
They’d met in college. Tala had been drowning, and Maxim had shown her kindness of a sort that Tala wasn’t used to.
Maybe she should have seen the signs, the signals Maxim was leaving that what they had would only ever be temporary, but after so many years on her own, Tala was excited to find someone she could be so close to. She let that excitement plant roses around her girlfriend’s red flags, tinging them with a sweet scent that let Tala overlook more than she should have.
Maxim had left her, in the end. It hadn’t been sudden - for the weeks leading up to the breakup, they’d grown distant. They’d stopped sharing the details of their days, stopped wishing each other good morning, stopped sleeping over at each other’s apartments. When the call finally came, Tala couldn’t wholly say she was surprised.
Even before that, though, Maxim had been pulling away for months. Tala had pleaded with her to try and make more time for the two of them, which Maxim had promised with a waved hand, but those promises rarely meant anything more than hopes crushed under yet another careless boot.
For far too long, Tala hadn’t been enough for her. She hadn’t been worth her time, or her effort, and the worst part was that, even now, she couldn’t put a finger on what it was she’d done that had driven her away.
There was a fatal flaw in her, some failure that she couldn’t see, that she didn’t think she could likely change, and there was nothing more terrifying in the world.
Was she doomed to relive this? Would every relationship she had in the future go the same path - would she always drive her loved ones away simply by virtue of being herself, no matter how much of herself she poured into trying to make them work?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t even guess. Whenever she thought of trying again, she only heard Maxim’s voice in her mind, and what she’d said when they’d finally split.
"Masyado ka na para sakin, Tala,” she’d said, her voice dull and calm. “I just can't cope."
She hadn’t cried. For some reason, that upset Tala more than anything. She’d crushed a relationship they’d spent three years building, and she didn’t even look like she fucking cared.
She had no right to be upset over it. Tala had driven her away somehow, had poisoned her affection until whatever Maxim had seen in her had turned to distaste, and that was on her. To get upset with Maxim for it was selfish.
Maybe, though, she was selfish, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t settle how deeply it hurt.
All of Maxim’s comments over the years, once buried, wriggled back to the surface, and in the aftermath of it, Tala couldn’t help but take them to heart.
“Come on, Tala, you can’t hurt that bad after only twenty minutes,” Maxim had laughed one day, when Tala’s chronic pain was weighing her down and she’d needed to call off a date soon into their planned tour of the gardens. Tala had looked at her, wounded, and Maxim had waved her off. "Joke lang, wag kang masyadong sensitive ah?"
Right, Tala tried to steel herself even as her mouth soured. Just a joke.
There had been so many comments like that, small jabs that Maxim had brushed off as jokes, but in reality just looked like ways she wanted to jab at her confidence, needling her down until she fell silent and into step at her side, trained into obedience if she wanted the affection that had once been given freely.
Little by little, as she thought back and remembered more ways she’d been put down over the last three years, she’d lost confidence in more and more of herself.
The comments had been about everything. Her hairstyle was childish, and blue didn’t suit her eyes. Her fashion sense was embarrassing. Her jokes weren’t funny. Her favourite music or movies weren’t interesting. She was needy for asking for more of Maxim than two nonchalant messages per day.
It crushed her. It suffocated her.
It terrified her even more now she’d found another person she enjoyed spending time with.
She wasn’t an idiot. With the benefit of hindsight, she could recognise Maxim had been neglectful. She knew that the comments she’d made had been cruel and unfair, but she couldn’t help but believe them when she knew Maxim had meant them.
She’d grown, over time, to distrust even Maxim’s affection. When she knew deep down that she didn't like her, that she would never be enough for her, all she could do was doubt her when she tried to be sweet.
If she called her beautiful, Tala could only think back to what she knew Maxim actually felt - she was childish and had bad taste. If Maxim promised to spend more time with her, that she still loved her and she’d work to make things better, Tala knew that things would only improve for a day before she lost interest again and went back to ignoring her.
She’d made and broken so many empty promises, and she’d lied so often just to keep Tala satisfied enough to stay, that Tala found she couldn’t trust any kindness was genuine. After so long being lied to, she lost faith entirely in the value of words.
She’d believe actions, solely, and Maxim’s actions had been proof enough that Tala was destined to drive away anyone she dared to try and get close to.
It made her jumpy. It made her isolated and hard on herself and starving for physical affection.
Maybe that was why, when she saw the handsome woman across the street boggling just at the sight of her, Tala couldn’t help but give in to the thrill.
She’d seen Hazal’s attraction as clear as day, and she hungered for it. She longed to feel desirable, like she could please someone without throwing her entire self into it, without whittling herself into someone she barely recognised to make someone happy. She didn’t need to follow a career she hated, or to change her hair or to work out until her vision swam.
Hazal desired her, just as she was, and after all she’d been through, Tala had needed it.
She hadn't meant for it to go so far. When she’d met Hazal, she’d fucking liked her, and that meant this was far too dangerous.
Had she already ruined what they had? Had she made things weird by inviting her over, by learning her name, by tasting her pleasure and memorising the feeling of those calloused hands?
She couldn’t bear to find out, not after what she’d already lost. As much as this hurt, it was another failure, and she deserved to stew in the consequences she’d sown, no matter how much it hurt.
She hadn’t meant to hurt Hazal, too. Knowing that she had only made it hurt that much worse.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, pulling on her clothes. “You did what you had to.”
She tried to justify it to herself over and over - she’d been trying ever since she’d first closed up her window.
You don’t know her, she told herself. Not really. She’s a stranger.
She didn’t fully believe that. She knew Hazal a little by now, and she fucking liked the person she saw.
She lied to you. She wouldn’t tell you the real reason she moved.
That was true - no one making a paycheque worth moving here would be living in an apartment like Hazal’s - but Tala knew it was only an excuse. It wasn’t like Hazal needed to tell her everything right at the beginning.
There were a dozen excuses she rushed to, a hundred ways she convinced herself that she’d needed to cut her off, but none of them helped. Tala felt worse and worse with each passing day, falling deeper into guilt and tearing herself up over what could have been.
She missed her, as odd as it felt to say that about a woman she’d only spoken to once. She’d enjoyed their little confusing relationship. She’d enjoyed the way the world outside of their windows had fallen away when they’d been talking.
She missed the way she’d felt when Hazal looked at her like she was actually worth her time.
If things had gone her way, she’d have mourned their brief fling and continued on as normal.
She’d have nursed her wounds and one day, maybe months or years in the future, she’d find whatever it was that was so inherently wrong with her, and she’d feel better, with all the potential in the world to go out there and find someone who could love her.
As it was, she didn’t get her way.
She saw Hazal a few weeks later, kneeling in the street with a small group of street cats circling her. She was murmuring to them, saying things Tala couldn’t understand - speaking Turkish, presumably. She held out her fingers, not craning to touch them, but letting the cats come to her, and one dragged its jaw happily against her fingertips while another flattened its entire body against her calf.
Tala’s chest tightened, in shame and shameful affection. Fuck, she liked this woman.
Hazal’s back was facing Tala as she approached from down the street, but she was facing her apartment building’s door - there was no way she could sneak past unnoticed.
She froze in place, panic immediately icing her muscles. She swallowed, feeling sweat beading up the back of her neck, making her skin itch and her body squirm as if that might help her escape it.
She needed to do something. If Hazal turned around and spotted her staring at her, she’d confront her. If she turned and ran, Hazal might turn and see her go, and she’d be even more hurt that she couldn’t have the guts to even say hi to her after what they’d shared.
She needed to be upfront. She could do that.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, violently uncomfortable as she struggled to think of something lighthearted to say to her.
Devoid of any good ideas, she fell back on awkwardly calling out to her in Tagalog.
"So.. may natutunan ka bang Tagalog nangnakaraan?” She laughed after she said it, trying to sound relaxed and friendly, but the sound was flighty, and clearly more stressed than amused.
Hazal stiffened, and glanced back at Tala over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as she saw her, but not in anger. She almost looked guarded, as if she were sheltering herself until she could gauge where they stood.
To Tala’s astonishment, she answered her smoothly in Tagalog, still with an unpracticed and muddled accent, but correctly.
"Meron, oo. Kahit papaano, di naman ako kasing kaawa-awa gaya ng iniisip mo."
Tala blinked, taking a step back.
“Shit,” she huffed, shaking her head. “Impressive. You learn fast.”
“I got a tutor.”
“It shows.” Laughing nervously a second time, Tala kicked the ground, rolling her shoulders to dislodge the violent discomfort that threatened to burrow into her spine and break her to pieces.
For a moment, they stood in uncomfortable silence. Tala could have taken the chance to flee, to run inside and bid her hurried farewells. In doing so, she’d effectively squash whatever remained of their relationship.
She knew it was sensible to take that chance, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She remained frozen in place, uncomfortably facing what she’d done, the woman she’d hurt, and Hazal stared her down, reading her with those frightfully analytic eyes that Tala figured she should probably fear.
Hazal rose to her feet, sliding her hands into her pockets. She said nothing, apparently waiting for Tala to say whatever it was on her mind - waiting for her to end it, or to explain where the hell she’d been for the past several weeks. Her expression was collected and calm, not angry, but Tala knew she’d messed up.
She swallowed hard, her discomfort spreading so wide that her hands began to shake.
“So,” she tried to wet her lips, but her tongue was dry. “Hazal…”
Hazal cocked her head, lifting her chin, and Tala baulked. Her skin flashed between feeling too hot and too cold, her sweat both warming her and chilling in the slight breeze.
“I, uh…. I’m.”
She struggled to find the words, and eventually, the ridiculousness of the situation caught up with her, latching onto her nerves and drawing another nervous laugh out of her.
It didn’t help. She continued to try and struggle to speak, to apologise, to explain, but her body seemed locked and her laughter interrupted her each time she tried to get more than a few words into a sentence.
Tears pricked, scalding and mortified, in her eyes, and she fought to take in a deep, wavering breath in an attempt to calm herself.
For whatever reason, even though Tala didn’t deserve such grace, Hazal took pity on her. She held up a hand to stop her in her tracks, levelling her with a calm stare, and gestured at her apartment with a backward thumb jutting over her shoulder.
“Hey. Do you want to come inside for a drink?”
-
“How do you take your coffee?”
Tala, as instructed by Hazal, sat in a plush armchair nestled alongside a bookshelf, and picked anxiously at her cuticles while Hazal whisked around her kitchen, starting up the fanciest coffee machine Tala had ever seen in someone’s house.
She thought she’d tasted coffee on Hazal’s lips when they’d last met. She supposed it made sense, if she liked the stuff enough to have a machine like this in her kitchen.
Hazal had pushed a plate of small treats into her hands - little gelatinous cubes coated in sugar. Tala had tried one, and found it sickly-sweet and wonderfully pleasant. The kindness of the gesture only made her feel worse.
Tangina mo, she’d thought, plucking another cube from the plate and chewing it slowly. Of course she’s a sweetheart. You really did fuck up.
“Um,” she swallowed, shrugging off her train of thought and struggling to answer Hazal’s question. “Normal?”
“What’s normal to you?” Hazal shot her a sideways look, cocking her brow. “Milk, sugar? If you don’t give me details, I’ll just give it to you black.”
“Sweet,” Tala rushed to explain, spurred by the notion of a bitter drink. “Please. Both milk and sugar, if you have them.”
“How much?”
“How much will you give me?”
“Of course,” Hazal snorted, shaking her head but getting to work making Tala’s drink all the same. “I should have guessed.”
“Should you?” Tala sniffed, only playfully offended.
“Yes.” Hazal tapped a little rhythm into her counter with two fingernails while she waited for Tala’s coffee to brew, and once it was done, she handed her the mug with steam curling delicately from the drink’s frothy surface.
“I don’t know whether to be affronted or impressed.”
“Affronted, definitely,” Hazal’s lips curled into a smirk as she made herself a drink without a drop or milk or sugar, much to Tala’s horror. “If you’d pressed, I’d have told you I should have known because you’re also loud and a bottom. Princesses tend to like their drinks sweet.”
Tala bit back a gasp.
“Hazal, that’s terrible. Where’s your courtesy?”
Some of the humour left Hazal’s face at that, and she sank into the chair opposite Tala’s with her own mug in her hands.
“About the same place as yours,” she answered her simply, and in a heartbeat, Tala’s amusement sputtered and died.
She broke eye contact, face burning, and looked instead down at her drink’s surface.
Hazal had drawn latte art on the foam. It was simplistic, a bunny sitting with its ears pricked, and she bit her lip, endeared to her all over again.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a few beats of silence. She glanced up, meeting Hazal’s eye for just a moment, but the other woman’s face was far too penetrating to bear, and she tore her eyes away again almost instantly. “I shouldn’t have cut you off the way I did.”
“Are you sorry for cutting me off,” Hazal asked, choosing her words carefully. “Or for the way you did it?”
“Both?” Tala frowned. “I think? I don’t know, Hazal. I don’t feel good about any of it.”
Hazal hummed, swilling her mug gently between her hands. It didn’t spill, the liquid instead just swirling around the rim of the mug.
“I got… scared.”
Tala took a moment to breathe after she admitted it. It was hard for her to say out loud, particularly to another person.
Hazal watched her quietly, her face still calm. Wasn’t she angry? Why wasn’t she angry?
“My, um,” Tala struggled to form the words, her tongue feeling too swollen for her throat. “My ex left me a few months back. I’m not sure I’ve recovered.”
“Oh,” Hazal’s expression pinched. “Well, if that’s the case, I have no desire to get between you and-”
“No, no,” Tala rushed to correct her, fearing she’d misunderstood. “I don’t still like her, or anything. That ship sailed a long time ago.”
“Oh,” Hazal narrowed her eyes, relaxing again.
“I just…” Tala’s mounting anxiety welled like poison in her stomach as she spoke. “… I never really knew what I did wrong. She wasn’t clear about much, but she made it clear that I was the one who drove her away. I guess I just get scared that there’s something wrong with me that’ll make you hate me, too.”
Hazal chewed on her lip, nodding slowly, and Tala continued. Now she’d started, the words were starting to fall from her freely, like a leaking tap going from steady drops to an ongoing stream.
“I have health issues, as I think you’ve guessed. As part of that I deal with chronic pain, and the management of it bothered her. On top of that, though… I don’t know.”
Tala took a sip of her coffee, and winced as it was still too hot, burning her lip.
“Careful,” Hazal warned her, her voice surprisingly soft. Tala’s chest panged again, and she continued with a waver of emotion in her tone.
“She thought I was loud and abrasive, she didn’t like my wardrobe, she didn’t want to make the effort to spend time with me… it might be stupid to dwell on what she thought, but when you spend enough time being talked down to without a clear answer to what you’ve done to make yourself so unappealing…”
She heaved a sigh, and shook her head.
“I saw the way you looked at me and it… felt good. You looked at me like you wanted me, and it’s been so long since I felt wanted by anyone. I chased it, but then when I met you in person, I fucking…”
She shivered, wrapping her hands around the mug and taking a stubborn sip regardless of the temperature. Her lip wept at the heat, but the coffee tasted good.
“You wanted it to be a hookup, nothing more?” Hazal cocked her head. “You could have told me. Even if we became closer friends, people sleep with their friends all the time. There would have been nothing wrong with that.”
“No,” Tala shrank into herself. “I invited you over, thinking it would be just a fling, but you… well. I liked you. I liked the way you made me feel.”
“Good,” Hazal’s lip curled again, just barely. “I think that’s the point.”
“Don’t tease me, Hazal,” Tala pouted. “I’m trying to make a serious point.”
Hazal waved an apologetic hand, letting her continue, and Tala did so, even as her cheeks burned.
“It felt… romantic, I guess. The way you talked to me, the way you touched me… it felt good. I liked it, but then I started thinking about what would happen if I pursued you and ruined it, and-”
“Tala,” Hazal murmured, her voice remarkably level for the topic at hand. Tala met her eye, and Hazal bit back a weary chuckle. “Do you realise that I’m maybe the one person who understands how you feel about this better than anyone?”
“What?” Tala frowned, and Hazal shrugged.
“I’ve had hookups before, a fair amount of them. I’m used to sex meaning nothing, but you’re right. What we had felt different, and that’s scary.”
“Oh,” Tala heard herself saying, the room falling away around them. She glanced down at the bunny in her latte’s foam, now a little mangled after she’d taken a sip.
“I’m not often one to chase relationships,” Hazal continued. “But I like you. Part of liking someone is taking risks - sometimes relationships end badly, but even if they do, sometimes they’re worth it.”
She paused for a moment, something tragic clouding her expression. She looked down at the floor, staring into nothing, and after a moment of silence, she shook herself back into the current moment.
“I’m sorry,” Tala said again, although she wasn’t sure what she was apologising for. Hazal flashed her a small smile, although it was only half-hearted.
She shrugged, and took a drink from her mug.
“You could have spoken to me,” she said once she’d swallowed her mouthful, her voice soft, barely audible. “That’s all.”
Tala nodded, and glanced down at her drink, which was still steadily giving off steam.
“I should have just told you,” she sighed. “I wish I could go back in time.”
“It happens,” Hazal took another drink. “Again, if anyone can understand, I will.”
“I think that’s part of what scares me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tala attempted her coffee again, and luckily found it a much more bearable temperature. “Again, Hazal, I like you. I think you like me. We clicked, and that’s terrifying, because fuck, if it felt that good right away, how bad would it feel to lose it?”
She heaved a sigh and shook her head.
“But I guess you’re right. Sometimes knowing people is worth the risk of losing them.”
“Sometimes even losing people is worth it for all the good they gave you,” Hazal nodded. “Which is easier said than believed, admittedly. I’m telling you this shit like I’m any better at dealing with interpersonal relationships, but I’m just as much of a mess.”
“Yeah?” Tala weakly smiled, and took another drink.
“My, uh…” Hazal paused, that awful look crossing her face again. She hesitated, as if cresting some sort of painful wave. “My brother died a few months back. Not my blood brother, but we were just as close.”
A hollow yawned open in Tala’s chest.
“Oh, Hazal,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Hazal glanced up at her for just a moment before looking back down at the floor.
“He’d been sick for a while. It wasn’t a surprise, but that doesn’t make it easier.”
“Of course not,” Tala bit her lip.
“But, even having lost him,” Hazal seemed to struggle to get the words out, taking her time to enunciate. “I’m grateful for the time we had. I loved him, and I know he loved me, and I know he’d want me to keep going.”
“That’s sweet,” Tala’s chest warmed.
She knew something of loss. Her lola had passed only the year prior, and she still missed her sorely. Like Hazal with her brother, she knew her lola would have encouraged her to chase this if she thought it could make her happy.
Hazal shrugged, sniffing once, and drained the rest of her coffee. She rested her mug on the side table, and leaned in, resting her elbows on her knees.
“It’s life, for better or for worse. People come and go, and we take what we can from it, as hard as that gets.”
Tala nodded, taking another one of the treats from the plate Hazal had offered her and chewing it. Hazal watched her, still calm, still collected, even as she basked in her grief.
“You like that?” Hazal lifted her chin to gesture towards the plate, and Tala nodded.
“It’s good. I’ve never had it.”
“It’s lokum,” Hazal explained, a small smile toying at her face. “From back in Türkiye. I eat some when I’m homesick, or when I need to wallow in self-pity for a while before pulling my socks back up.”
“Pointed,” Tala eyed her. “But fair. They’re good - thank you for sharing them with me.”
Hazal nodded, and stood, slipping her thumbs into her pockets.
“Thank you for telling me why you did what you did. I’ve been worried I upset you.”
“Oh, no,” Tala’s cheeks burned as she rushed to reassure her, but Hazal held up a hand.
“It’s fine, I get it now. Things happen, like I said.”
“They do.”
Tala took another drink, humming with enjoyment. Her thoughts were turning over on themselves, churning - self-loathing was certainly part of it, but not the only part, not anymore.
Hazal had been far more understanding than Tala thought she deserved, but she wouldn’t spurn it.
“I have an idea,” she cleared her throat, flushing with nerves as she forced herself to meet Hazal’s eye and keep her gaze fixed there. “If your patience can extend any further.”
Hazal dipped her head, encouraging her to continue.
“Could we…” Tala fidgeted in her seat, nerves brimming. “Start fresh? Move past the stupid shit I did with my window and approach this seriously?”
Hazal chuckled, and for the first time that afternoon, she broke into a real, toothy smile. She bared those fangs that Tala had missed, and offered her a hand.
Tala took it, expecting Hazal to pull her up, but instead, Hazal bent at the waist, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her fingers.
She looked up at her, lowering her voice, and nodded.
“It’s a date.”