Chapter Text
Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks,
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts
For Ona Batlle, the moments when she becomes someone she is not are true freedom. When her mind and body work together harmoniously, and she knows every melody, from every book, by heart. Note by precarious note. She can control the tempo with feather-light precision. Alert. Never missing.
For Lucy, her soul flourishes when she is free just to be. To indulge selfishly in the things she likes, to love someone, or something, without bounds, and give so much to it, without truly parting with anything at all.
For Ona, the silence between those moments of deep connection can be painful. Alone with her thoughts, she has no control anymore. So she seeks it out, manufactures it even. So now, she knows nothing different.
She had reinvented herself many times to become the girl, the woman, that Lucy took on a date three weeks ago. She wonders if Lucy had caught onto that fact, or if she is just that gentle and perceptive by nature. Or perhaps she had just stayed hopeful that Lucy is one to read between the lines.
Something died, between the realisation that they were truly something, and the moment when reality knocked them both unconscious. The time between it could not be mapped. Momentary, a glitch in the tape.
Had she ran? Had Lucy ran? For the life of her, she can't remember. And it only happened eight days ago.
Ona didn't smoke, but if she did, she'd imagine she might perch on the steps of her apartment building and think about this one for a long, long time.
Maybe she doesn't need a cigarette to be poetic. Maybe a bottle of wine on her balcony in nighttime practically-sub-zero temperatures would do the trick.
The door resists opening, having been sealed shut for many months at this point. Her balcony was only home to two empty plant-pots, and a slightly-rotting set of table and two chairs. Wrapped up in her wool trench, she takes a seat and drops her shoulders.
Maybe what made this experience so unshakable was that she really gave herself to it. She really believed, transiently, that she was lucky in this life for things to have aligned in the way they did. She accepted the unthinkable, filled herself with hope, ran for the medal, only for it to vanish without a trace.
It was naive, looking back, to assume it was that easy. That Lucy would waltz into her disjointed reality and settle in like her dog does wherever you seem to take him. Dogs are adaptable creatures, as are humans, but dogs have no object permanence. Dogs trust on fundamentals and don't even have the foresight to know that foresight exists. Dogs experience emotions very logically and very fleetingly.
Or did they?
The thought of her dog being depressed makes her very, very sad.
"So what brought you here in the first place?" Unbeknownst to Lucy, they were steadily approaching two years to the day that Ona made the sudden move to Manchester. Life packed away in three suitcases, she had left the sun for a burgeoning city of scaffolding, artsy cafes, and accents beyond her Catalonian comprehension. Grittier than London, but more gentle.
Especially the people. The people were good.
And she liked Lucy already. Theoretically, she did indeed possess all the traits Ona might, potentially, want in a woman; Lucy was charming, unguarded, well-versed on all worldly matters and niche philosophies, the whole package.
They had already covered the basics between the day they met at their best friend’s wedding and the avid texting that followed over the next two weeks. Ona was a marketing consultant for her brother’s company. Lucy was an accountant. They both had a history with football, liked good food, yacht trips in Ibiza, and their dogs. Was that it?
Ona squints a little at a speck of black in her martini glass. Is it moving? Lucy is watching her, awaiting an answer. Ona glances up, giving a look of soft contemplation, faintly smiling as she speaks.
"Nothing big. Just wanted a change, and I had some friends here, I liked the city, so why not?"
Lucy assesses the response, somewhere between scepticism and curiosity.
"Right." She replies. "Manchester is my home city so I only ever criticise it with affection. I still think about Barcelona practically every day though. It’s a great life, would you say so?"
Lucy spoke very fondly of her time living in Barcelona, Ona had quickly gathered. It was their first point of connection. Apart from sharing a best friend. Ona didn't let her complicated sentiments towards her home show, not when Lucy was so enthusiastic about it.
"Maybe it's less interesting when you lived there for twenty-something years." Ona offers, a tad more focused on appreciating Lucy's face quite brazenly. Something she's been silently doing all evening.
Not that Lucy hadn’t been doing the same.
Ona wonders why Lucy seems to like her so much. Did she like her? Or was she just unaccustomed to someone being interested in her, without the pretence of interrupting to talk about their own life and their own thoughts at the first opportunity.
Ona didn’t find herself particularly interesting. Others may say so, have said so, but she realises now she doesn’t much enjoy explaining herself. It’s an effort to discern the valuable parts of her story from the mundane, the attractive parts from the parts that shouldn’t be shared so carelessly. Every story has its moment, so patience is truly a virtue.
Ona wasn’t sure when her fascination with the unattractive parts of life began. Perhaps as a teenager, sat in a quiet, unregulated bar on a weeknight, when an attractive older woman had told her with morbid sensuality that she had sad eyes. Ona had scowled a bit. For the past hour she had been consoling this woman who was confessing drunkenly to every woe of her life at the present. Which was many. Is it such a pity if you do? Her fingers dared to curiously touch the tattoo that lay fresh on Ona’s forearm. Sadness is beautiful. Men appreciate sad girls like you. Who aren’t afraid of reality…
So if Lucy spoke about her ugly truths before sharing how many siblings she had, or what her favourite cuisine was, Ona wouldn’t have cared. She might have even preferred it. Maybe Lucy wants to…she just adheres to etiquette with far less cynicism.
"Probably. Novelty and all that." Lucy says softly, her legs shifting under the table for the umpteenth time.
Lucy had suggested this place for their first official date; a quaint Japanese restaurant, lavished with authenticity and low lights that painted her date in the best way possible.
Ona isn't sure if the guilt that had settled in her gut at the start of the evening had gotten better or worse. It was certainly still there, ever-present at every girlish butterfly Lucy effortlessly provoked. God, it's been a while since she last felt this way.
She had spent so much of her life feeling guilty, or shameful, over everything and nothing at all, that she could handle it for one more evening.
No, she didn’t really do dates. Not usually. Not those with the implications that this one had. That there would be another. And if they’re lucky, another after that.
Lucy made it painfully explicit. I am taking you on a romantic date, which is not a friendly hangout, because I find you attractive, and would like to pursue you, provided we have sufficient chemistry and common interests. We will not be hooking up. Entirely inaccurate to what Lucy actually said, but Ona penned those words to the back of her mind as they approached this evening. To remind herself, bluntly, to not act out.
"Got any more secrets you want to share, Ona?" Lucy says her name experimentally, already so sweet on the tip of her tongue. Ona lets out a genuine chuckle, stretching her neck back in fond disbelief.
"Let it go, I swear, I shouldn't have even mentioned it." Ona hits her with a grin. She was enjoying that Lucy felt comfortable enough to banter like this, even at the expense of Ona’s own comfort.
She had made the first unfixable mistake of the evening by hinting towards having a second job, of sorts, quite early on, and Lucy immediately caught Ona's reluctance to go further. Before the date, she knew it was the one thing to not, under any circumstances, be discussed. But Lucy frustratingly disarmed her.
"As long as you're not going to rope me into some elaborate crypto pyramid scheme, believe me, I’ve heard it all," Lucy, by all graces, doesn't seem too pressed about it. Not really. Just a bid to tease Ona, who raises her eyebrows judgmentally.
"Do I really look like the crypto type?"
"People can be full of surprises." Lucy's hands fail to remain in one position for too long, fiddling with the edge of the napkin now. She stops, when she catches Ona looking. Bored? Nervous? Jittery?
Lucy tells her a bit more about her job, the general of her day-to-day, but most of it she already knew. Perhaps it would be creepy to admit she hadn't forgotten a single word Lucy Bronze had said to her at Lucy Staniforth's wedding, the day they met.
It had surely been months of her best friend telling her about her amazing other best friend, who was single, and just Ona's type. Ona had brushed it off with eventual frustration. She didn't want to date, she didn't even want to meet Lucy Bronze.
Oh, but she did. She really did. So much so that she only half wanted to cancel this date in the hours leading up to it.
"Well, I have a side-hustle I haven't told you about." Lucy says, and Ona leans in curiously.
"I coach a girls’ team on the weekend."
Ona laughs a bit. Not mockingly, just surprise. She almost feels bad when Lucy looks hurt by it.
"That’s nice. Stanny wasn't kidding about you and football." Ona says fondly, and Lucy's sweet smile returns. "More of a hobby than a lucrative second job, though."
Lucy scoffs playfully. "As if I care about it being lucrative. Wouldn't be surprised if your supposed job doesn't even exist, just an elaborate cliffhanger to get me on a second date."
"Wrong. I will tell you, just not if you keep pestering me." Ona won't tell her though. Not yet. Not now.
"Say that again." Lucy smirks.
"What? Pestering?"
"Love it. Very British of you, Ona Batlle."
"It's pronounced like Bat-lle, actually."
"That is literally how I said it."
"You’re saying the ‘T’ all wrong."
"Batlle." Lucy repeats.
Ona sighs flippantly. "I guess I can take it."
It happens so many times, where she gets transfixed by Lucy and she's smiling without even realising, in fact they're both smiling at each other, for no particular reason other than this is good. Really, undeniably good.
Lucy's gaze becomes softer. Their hands, close on the table. Lucy reaches over, and Ona stiffens. Her hand isn't taken though, instead, Lucy presses her fingertip softly on a few of the freckles decorating the back of her hand. Examining them, counting them.
"You like them?" Ona asks with a sheepish smile.
"Yeah. I love your freckles. Even in pictures they were the first thing I noticed. Really, really pretty." She says, and Ona grins cheesily.
"Not to mention your smile."
Ona hates the way she tries to reject this feeling– the innocence of it all is overwhelming. She had a very low tolerance for sweetness. But that seems to be all Lucy is capable of.
"If we're choosing, I like your eyes. And everything else, but especially your eyes." Ona says with sincere affection.
"Thank you." Lucy smiles bashfully before glancing down. A question on her mind that she has to will herself to ask.
"...You're allowed to be honest, but am I your type?"
"In what way?" Ona replies.
"Uhm…looks, I guess."
Ona blinks. She hadn't really considered her type. Not in that way.
"I’d pick you out in a crowd.” Ona replies with a flirtatious lilt. “I'm very attracted to you, if that's what you're asking."
Lucy grins, as if not expecting an answer with such poignant sincerity. Ona told nothing but the truth though. Visually, aesthetically, physically...Lucy took her breath away.
Her type though, when she thought about it, was more about behaviours. She wouldn't know if Lucy was her type or not just from a dinner date, no, they would need a lot more than that.
“Can I ask you the same?” Ona eventually says.
Lucy’s face is incredulous, rendered quickly speechless as she looks at Ona, not wanting to risk messing this one up. It’s cute. “Type doesn’t cover it.”
"I can tell you didn't like that Stanny kept pushing us together." Lucy states with casual indifference as they leave the restaurant, full bill covered without a chance for Ona to question. Ona's head snaps towards her, hands in her coat pockets.
"What?" She answers with a polite smile of disbelief.
"Maybe you feel different now, but you did seem to avoid me for a long time. Just an observation. Could be wrong." Lucy says with retrospective affection.
Ona could be honest and say she was never opposed to her, but rather opposed to dating in general.
She sighs, casually. "Coincidence fools you, Lucy…but I didn't have to meet you to know I'd get flustered."
"...Hm. I'll take that."
Lucy's arm slowly settles around Ona's shoulder a few minutes later, initially catching her a bit off guard but she quickly slips an arm around Lucy's waist to equal the comfort as they walk down the street. Lucy had stayed sober with the intention of driving her home.
She is fucked. Really, really fucked.
The second date happened a week and a half later, Saturday, consisting of what was closer to their second, third, fourth, and probably fifth date consecutively.
Ona wanted to be clear on one point; it was never supposed to turn out like this. No dates, no texting all the time, no falling stupidly and uncontrollably. Thankfully she wasn't at that point, not quite yet, but if Lucy kept going, she might be in some serious danger.
These feelings, these moments, they were deceivingly innocent, but too addictive and indulgent to deny. Lucy made her feel good in a way that was so rare. The warmth of a best friend’s company, tinged with something deeper. Something more uncontrollable.
"You haven't even asked me about the job." Ona points out in a gust of thoughtless confidence as they walk off their brunch through Cathedral Gardens.
As soon as she makes the comment, her body flushes with heat. Fear. Why would she say that? What would she say now? She had nothing to say. She was too embarrassed. Suddenly.
"God I really haven't, have I. Go on then. I'm waiting. Tell me you can’t say anything because of an NDA."
Many voices interacted in the space of her mind. One thanks Lucy for her interest, excitedly planning the answer. The other throws a punch at the first, appalled at their blatant disregard for safety. Safety? As if Lucy wasn’t safe. As if Lucy could hurt her. Not here, surrounded by pretty flowers and when Ona had tried so bloody hard to make her hair and makeup so nice, so flattering.
Ona pauses. A long pause, one so tense that she can’t form a single thought despite a thousand passing through her at once. She crafts a lie - a brilliant one, but no- sex therapist. That’s close enough. Lucy chuckles softly, nudging her almost accidentally. “Come on then.” Is it weird? Is she incurably weird, and deeply perverted for this?
"So I'm a dominatrix."
Lucy stops walking. Her mouth half-open, eyes locked at the ground.
Ona’s heart plummets. She hated the word, really. It felt strangely degrading. Pretentious at best.
Had she just admitted to Lucy that she, the girl Lucy seemed to find endlessly cute and endearing, was secretly a massive whore of the highest degree? That she slapped and degraded strangers for fun? Like a psycho?
"Are you serious?" Her head snaps towards Ona after processing for a considerable moment. Her face is frozen in a half-smile. Ona tries desperately to know what that emotion was. Not anger, not disgust, but...amused disbelief?
Ona says nothing. Lucy's smile fades a bit as she catches onto Ona's genuine terror, pursing her lips.
"I’m sorry. I didn't want to tell you because I know it's weird to most people, and most people wouldn't-" She tumbles out some semblance of an apology, explanation, justification, she isn’t sure.
She feels herself going so red. Lucy, intelligently and considerately, interrupts her. "Right stop there, I don't judge, I really don't, but wow, no chance I would have guessed that. Unless you're pulling my leg, because I swear, I'm not that gullible." The corners of her lips raise to a grin, and Ona is so taken by it.
“…Lucy," Ona says in a breath, relaxing her shoulders with a nervous smile. "I'm serious. My heart is in my stomach right now." She says earnestly, and Lucy rubs her arm slightly ambivalently.
"Well, put it back where it belongs first of all. Think you'll need your heart for today. And I’m no prude, Ona." Lucy laughs to herself. Nervously.
Ona lets out a long-held breath as they begin to walk again, slowly, both eyes fixed on the path ahead.
"Maybe let's sit for this one." Ona offers quickly after a moment of uncertain silence, where they both collect uncertain thoughts.
"Yeah."
So they sit down on a park bench, the irony of having this conversation in such a public space doesn't escape them. But life was full of moments so utterly ridiculous you're almost made to laugh. Ona looks again to Lucy for reassurance, which she doesn't want to do but finds herself doing regardless.
"I'm really not bothered by it, I'm just–surprised. And curious. How much are you...willing to tell me?" Lucy rests her chin on her hand to look up at Ona, her eyes always so wide and lively. Greener than ever with a rare reflection of winter sun.
Ona's hands are tightly wound on her lap, back straight, keenly aware and tense under Lucy's observing gaze. Sat, poised, in case she needs to up and run at any point. Lucy spoke with nothing but soft curiosity, and as much as she wants to believe Lucy is disgusted, she knows she isn’t. Lucy waits patiently, but is most likely certain now of Ona being a bit of a chaotic entity. Oh well, she could only hide herself for so long.
Ona sighs, breathing in slowly, before looking at Lucy with a new, softened resolve. She could do this. She could do this and Lucy wouldn’t hate her for it.
"Whatever you want to know. I'm a really open book, if that's the saying. And…I'm kind of used to explaining myself. So go ahead." Ona states with amicable indifference, and Lucy seems to be taken aback by the shift.
Ona didn't flaunt her slightly obscene interests to the masses, but it wasn't something she could easily hide from friends. She understood their curiosity, also understood that it simply isn’t for everyone. She had received just about every reaction, every assumption possible to the reveal of that information. So nothing phased her anymore, dare she say, it entertained her. But for some implausible reason, telling Lucy feels particularly damning. Particularly vulnerable.
You don't think I'm capable of that, do you? She says in jest to just about everyone who stares at her for a little while longer after she tells them, searching in her face for something new, something that they won't find. They can’t laugh at her if she turns the joke on them.
For Ona, her dominance comes in subtleties, flowering from gentle suggestion to a full-blown identity shift when she finds its perfect counterpart. It was and wasn’t her. Explaining it wasn’t easy. Her relationship with sexuality and love wasn’t easy; it would surely take months to unravel the extent of it with someone. Another reason why committed, safe people quite frankly, terrified her.
"I don't know where to start." Lucy confesses after lengthy consideration, still smiling a little. "I don't want to sound stupid, or disrespectful."
"Shall I explain it then?" Ona offers a gentle look to Lucy, who gives her a glance and nod. "Go on then,"
"So…for the record, I don't have sex with people. I'm not an escort or even close to that." She begins, script well-revised. Lucy gives a sharp nod, and Ona hopes that tidbit quelled just some of her fears.
"Got it," says Lucy, a slight contemplative frown persisting.
"It's…an intimate exchange, but not intimacy. People come to me, find me...however, and if we work, we work. It's more of a passion project, I don't even do it for the money. I mean, it's nice that it can be kind of lucrative but really it's for me. It helps me. In lots of ways. Does that make sense?"
Ona lets the sentiment settle before continuing. Had she made that too crude? Too euphemistic? It wasn’t an easy one to soften. She spoke about sex so often that it was quite neutral to her, no different to her day job, but maybe it’s stranger around Lucy, because, well…they haven’t crossed that boundary yet. And could - might - plan to.
Lucy seems to be taking it all in very reasonably, just deep in thought. Which could imply a multitude of things. Yet Ona still searches for the twitches in expression, the body language that suggests discomfort. Truthfully, she didn't know Lucy well enough to discern any of this. She only cares so much because she's grown to appreciate Lucy's perspectives, and in some entirely illogical part of her desires, she can't imagine being anything but perfect to her. As if that was in any realm of possibility. Ona was aeons and galaxies away from perfection.
"Oh yeah, it does. Not that I’m not an expert, but…I know it means a lot to some people and it's, like you said, a hobby..."
Ona chuckles breathily. "Yeah. Something like that."
"So...you have clients?"
"Yeah."
"All paid?"
Ona scoffs a laugh. "Usually. Yeah."
"Who are they? Like...how often do you do this?"
Ona uncrosses her legs. "Twice a week at most. It's intense, I couldn't do it every day. But for clients...I suppose they range." Ona thinks about everyone she has seen over the past month or two. They were all very nice, respectful, interesting people, some of whom you'd expect, but many who you wouldn't at all. That was probably her favourite part of the job.
"So it’s mostly…guys?”
Ona looks something between horrified and…horrified.
“Oh no. Only women. So my experience is a lot nicer than most. Different, though."
"Fair enough. Shouldn’t have assumed." Lucy laughs, her freckled cheeks just slightly tinged red as she sinks her face into her hand. Her head tilts up abruptly every time she thinks of another question.
"Are they mostly the same people or is it more like a one-and-done thing? Sorry I have so many questions I’m just…yeah, really…intrigued." Lucy laughs, half-nervous, half-polite, again.
Ona laughs with her. “No no, it’s fine. I’m very used to it. I just thought it’s something you should know…” she trails off into an anxious uncertainty.
“I appreciate you telling me.” Lucy smiles.
"But to answer your question, I have a couple of people who I see on a basis, but usually one and done. I get a lot of complete newcomers, a lot of women who have never been with a woman before and are just trying things out. All kinds, really." She actually feels quite confident talking about it, mostly because it was so familiar. Even clients asked her similar questions.
She doesn't mention the fact that her age is part of the appeal for many of the people who come to her. Whether it's for the power-play of a younger woman playing the domme, or because being younger makes her less intimidating…she isn't sure.
And of course, she wonders where Lucy herself falls into all of this. She had wondered about it the second they met. As she does with most people. It's rarely that perverted of a question, wondering where someone might fit into the box.
But perhaps her speculations on Lucy were a little more perverted than usual.
It wasn't her fault. Ona had seen the way Lucy very subtly flaunts her muscles on social media, and certainly, she had done nothing profane with those images. Nothing at all.
Oh but trusting her luck, Lucy is a crazy dominant top herself, with no interest or room for submission.
Well no, everyone had some room for submission. It's just if they wish to act on it.
"What do you do in general? No specifics. Just like, the jist I guess. If you can even summarise it in a half-appropriate way."
"That's hard but I'll try. I do a lot of things, well, I do what people want me to do. Within my limits of course. Usually it involves a physical element, like pain or restriction, and a...mental element, the power play. Some people want just one, some people want just the other. I never have any kind of direct sexual contact with them."
Lucy is biting the inside of her cheek, hard.
"But if it's not for sexual pleasure then do people just want it for the thrill?"
"Pretty much. There's a lot to it but I won't bore you with my nerdiness." Ona unlocks her hands, and Lucy straightens up.
"Don’t think you could ever bore me after a fact like that." She answers incredulously, still shockingly unfazed. She has more on her mind, which Ona encourages her to speak with a mere raise of her eyebrows.
"It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Lucy grins. “I’m just surprised. In a good way. Unexpected from you, but I respect it, a lot.”
Respect was a new one.
"I get it. I don’t look or act the part." Ona gazes out towards the city, squinting a bit from the sun.
Lucy looks teasingly guilty, her smile cheeky.
"Guess not."
Lucy doesn't run. She only comes closer, inundated with new curiosity and respect for Ona's character. It only really hits them that 'brunch' was a wild underestimate of what the day would consist of when they're leaving a steakhouse at 7pm and the sun has long gone down.
What had they even done all day? Ona can't remember. Thousands of steps, a rip-off's worth of trinkets from Afflex's, streets neither of them had even been down before, and laughter. So much laughter. She left herself, when she was around Lucy. She waits patiently for the anxiety, but it never comes.
The restaurant had been hot and a bit too loud for much meaningful conversation, so the winter's air outside was a cold reprieve.
They hold hands without second thought, and Ona feels all shades of giddy and euphoric. Happier than she can ever remember being in this city. She is coloured shocked by just how much she allowed herself to enjoy today. The first date sterility gave way to something very genuine, very fun, very simple.
"Is it stupid to say I still have more of this in me." Lucy says, grinning.
"No." Ona can only laugh with delight and impulsive adrenaline. "I do too. I'm so into you Lucy." She confesses, her laughter dropping off as she realises the gravity of what she said. But Lucy doesn't falter.
"I'm really into you too." She murmurs. "A ridiculous amount. I had so much fun today. You're an amazing person."
Ona blushes considerably. Warm and fuzzy. Amazing person. Here they are, getting foolish for each other in the middle of a crowded street, a group rushing past them with drunken shrill to their voices.
"I know a couple bars we could go to." Lucy offers, gently pulling Ona out of the pedestrian path. Ona tries very hard to agree enthusiastically, but that isn't what she wants. So she makes that known.
"If you want. But, I was kind of feeling something quieter." She says, not realising that Lucy had an arm around her back and her waist pulled close.
"I won't take you anywhere too crazy, don't worry. Somewhere chill. There was one I went to with my friend, I can ask her where it is, don't think it's too far..."
"Lucy," Ona looks up at her, pushing Lucy's phone down gently. "I want to spend time with just you." she pokes her chest lightly with a smile. She sees the moment Lucy realises what she means, and it's incredibly sweet.
“Oh right. Yeah no I'm down for that. As long as there's no expectation of...anything."
The sudden shift takes her a tad by surprise. There is a sudden nerve in Lucy's voice, though barely detectable.
Had she suggested that with the intention of hooking up?
No. No she hadn’t. For all of the places wild hormones had taken her, none of that was on her mind tonight. She wasn’t sure what was. But not that. Maybe that. But not a lot. Everything is calm right now, slowed down, and she is chasing feelings she doesn’t quite understand.
"No. No expectations at all." Ona replies with soft certainty.
"Okay good. Because it's my time of the month and I don't really want to go there today."
She says it very plainly, as if decided long ago. Whether it was the full truth, Ona wasn't sure. But she didn't care one bit. She respected Lucy’s willingness to establish her wants. She pats Lucy's back sympathetically, for she seemed to feel some degree of embarrassment immediately after speaking. So maybe it was true, after all.
"More than happy with that. You don’t even need a reason."
So, they go to Lucy's place. Just a couple of tram stops away. In an unexpected turn of events, they have largely run out of things to talk about, or perhaps something is up with Lucy. A thoughtful look on her face as they walk in silence, arms linked.
"Everything okay?" Ona asks, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible.
"Of course." Lucy turns to her and gives her a very genuine smile. She looks at Ona softly, like she's never seen her before. "You're beautiful." She says.
Ona lowers her head with a bashful smile. "Really?"
The answer seems to catch Lucy off guard. "Are you kidding?" She grins incredulously.
"What?" Ona plays it off.
"You don't think you're beautiful?"
Ona frowns a bit, puzzled. "I never said I didn't."
"You didn't have to say it. But I'll tell you now. You're really, really beautiful."
Ona feels her heart in her throat, an uncomfortable tightening deep inside her. Lucy saw through her. Saw how she has never found herself pretty. What? That’s not true, she often thinks she’s pretty. She often looks in the mirror and decides her looks are enough to get through that day. "Sorry," she murmurs. Lucy just nudges her affectionately.
"What 'you saying sorry for, silly?"
"Sorry." Ona repeats quietly, grinning now.
Lucy wanted to kiss her right then and there.