chapter 47 ⚚
"Should we talk about love today?"
It felt strange to call it like that for Lilith. Everything around it seemed too cruel and too irritating to call love, love.
"I don't know. Do you want to talk about love?" Miss Lockhart asked, raising her eyebrow softly.
They were sitting in the same room and in the same apartment as a few days ago. Only now it was early. Not that early meant anything bright. The sky was grey, it was raining, and the whole day felt uncomfortable—for everyone, it seemed.
Soft classical music played in the background, and Lilith found herself thinking of one particular woman.
Like always.
Miss Lockhart had some matters to take care of late in the evening, when she and Lilith were supposed to meet. Even if Lilith rolled her eyes at the text she received the previous night, she still squeezed the session somewhere between her lectures.
"I think I do," Lilith said softly, adjusting the blanket on her legs.
It was nice how the woman always made sure she was comfortable.
It was silly how she knew that if she left a folded blanket on the small couch, Lilith's fingers would immediately find it with a quiet question of whether she could use it.
Vivienne nodded without speaking. She straightened her back gently and looked down at her iPad, holding the pen, prepared to take notes on every single word.
So Lilith started.
"I think I'm not made for it," she said.
"I've been wondering about it a lot lately, and there are just too many things wrong with me to ever have the kind of love I want."
She finished with a small wince, already irritated at herself—for feeling this way, and for the fact that love even had to exist in the first place.
"What is it that's wrong with you?" Lockhart asked, her voice steady, showing curiosity and a quiet willingness or desire to listen.
"Obviously everything," Lilith threw out, but she didn't stop there. She knew it didn't explain anything.
"I mean... if we're talking about romantic love and relationships, I think it would be impossible to be with me.
Or rather, to handle me somehow, and then wake up the next day and think this is someone I want to be with for the rest of my life.
" She finished with her voice tightening, her eyes tearing up slightly.
She did not want to mention Valentina. But it was obviously about her.
The brown haired woman leaned slightly towards the low table between them, flicking her finger softly against the box of tissues so it slid closer to Lilith's reach. The girl didn't take one.
"I feel like I could maybe suppress the way I am, but not for long. And then what? I would just suffer in silence." Lilith let out a small huff, frustrated at the accuracy of it.
"Are you talking about your reactions?" Lockhart asked, blinking slowly as if arranging everything Lilith had just told her into the right places.
"Yes, but also..." Lilith exhaled, her shoulders sinking a little. "I'd be... too jealous, too sensitive, too attached. I don't really know if I would be able to trust someone fully."
She hesitated, then added, clearing things up, "Not even fully. Just trust.. even a little."
Vivienne nodded, noting something down without rushing her. "What is the love you want?"
"Everything I know I'll never get." Lilith looked down at her fingers, pulling lightly at a loose thread on the blanket. "Which is just something peaceful. I think I idealised the whole idea of romantic relationships and love in my head too much."
The last part made Lockhart lift her gaze again, a small flicker of interest crossing her face. "What do you mean?"
"I take love so seriously," Lilith admitted. "I don't have any type of fun or lightness in my mind when I think about it. I think of it as something so... sacred."
She paused, then let out a tense breath. "Do you imagine a break up? I would honestly kill myself probably. Or an argument? I'm already losing my mind."
"And break ups sometimes happen... arguments always," she continued, her irritation rising with each word. "But the way they make me feel... it feels like the end of the world."
She swallowed hard. "Oh god... do you even imagine being cheated on?..."
Lilith stopped there, her blue eyes widening, showing exactly how horrified she felt, inside and out, at the idea of someone leaving her. The disgust was all right there on her face.
"Okay..." Lockhart started. "Does the way you imagine yourself in a relationship remind you of something... or someone?"
All Lilith could do was let out a long sigh before saying, "My mother."
"You've never experienced any other kind of love than the one where you're anxious, scared someone might leave you, or punish you... all the things you're even more afraid of right now," Vivienne said.
"How comforting," Lilith snorted, the irony in her voice sharp, though it softened when she noticed the woman drifting into thought.
"I actually said something untrue," Lockhart said suddenly.
"What is it?" Lilith murmured.
"You did, and you still do, experience a different type of love," the woman said. Then she added, "What is it with Gabrielle that makes you feel so much different? That lets you find so much peace in her, and in your relationship with her?"
She looked at Lilith directly now, waiting. Lilith broke eye contact almost immediately, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful than defensive.
"I don't know... Gabrielle's just different," she murmured after a few seconds.
"I guess she doesn't trigger my... fears?" Lilith said, still unsure. "It's complicated though... I don't know."
"That's why I want you to think about it a little," Vivienne said, guiding the end of their meeting. She placed her iPad aside, her movement calm, as if she was putting all the scattered pieces of the session into order.
Lilith always found organised women attractive. It wasn't even about the physical aspect of organisation. It was something about how clean and structured their minds worked. She craved that kind of order in someone else as well as in herself. It gave her comfort.
"You know there's a lot of things we need to work on." The woman tilted her head at the girl, her expression gentle. "Think about how your perfect everyday love would look in a perfect world, and then think of Gabrielle. We'll come back to that," she said as she uncrossed her legs.
"What if love is just disgusting and I'm not crazy?" Lilith asked, sitting up a little and looking down at her shoes pressed into the beige carpet.
"We'll never know," Vivienne chuckled softly before giving her a warm smile.
"Do you date, or... have someone?" Lilith asked, tilting her head with clear curiosity.
"Lilith," Vivienne sighed, but it was a fond, familiar sigh.
Lilith loved taking childish little chances like this, fishing for private information from the woman.
Sometimes she failed.
Sometimes she didn't.
"What? I'm just curious," Lilith said, letting out a small giggle. Then, as if doubling down on her attempt, she tilted her head again. "Please?" she asked.
Many people found it hard to say no to the blonde girl.
Maybe it was because she was warm and welcoming, and in the end she only ever wanted a harmless little piece of information, asked out of pure curiosity.
"No, I do not have someone, and no, I do not date," the woman said, letting her eyes roll just a little.
The information made Lilith happy, though not for any reason anyone else might assume.
"You see," she exclaimed, pointing at her triumph, "you don't even date. I was right."
"Does it prove love is... disgusting?" Vivienne asked, amused, using the same word Lilith had used earlier to describe it.
"It kind of does," the girl said as she slipped on her shoes and then folded the blanket as neatly as she could.
"No one is perfect," Vivienne sighed as she stood up.
"Now you're just crushing my idea of love... what a bad therapist," Lilith murmured while the woman opened the door for her.
Vivienne stood in the doorway, watching as Lilith struggled to make her fluffy scarf look even remotely presentable.
"I'm not here to feed your delusions," the woman said, looking down at her with a humoured expression.
"And that just absolutely destroyed me..." Lilith said dramatically.
Softly, her playfulness began to fade, replaced by a small, almost shy smile. "Thank you," she said.
She pushed the door open, looked over her shoulder, and added, "Bye, Miss Vivienne."
?
Valentina liked cleaning.
Even though she enjoyed having things neatly put away, and like every other human, appreciated being able to rest in a fresh, ordered space, she wasn't a freak about it.
Only in certain situations.
Like this one.
Her routine had been disturbed, and she couldn't even blame the angel. It was Valentina herself who made Valentina feel uneasy—however ridiculous that sounded.
The morning was so gloomy it was hard to even tell whether it was morning or evening.
Maybe it was like that.
When she had woken up in bed next to Lilith, the weather had offered traces of sun, even with winter approaching.
But when they didn't wake up together, didn't speak, the world seemed upset too.
Valentina shook her head, a small, amused smile touching her full lips, as she organised the documents on her desk—papers with sketches, notes from meetings, little things that just needed to be remembered.
She hadn't slept well.
She looked slightly off too.
Not that she had lost any of her usual poise or beauty, but her brows were furrowed in a way that hinted at unrest.
Had the girl been thrown off?
Valentina in her place would have been, too.
It wasn't that she minded what she had done, or how sinful, filthy, or inconsiderate it might have seemed.
Even good women had a touch of desperation in them.
She believed that even if Lilith probably wouldn't do the same thing as her, she wouldn't mind—or that, if she would be curled up on her couch in her apartment, she might have done something similar, though a little less... dirty.
It was eerie, how much of that night stayed in Valentina's mind. Acting right, in her eyes, meant inviting the girl to talk about what had happened—not confusing her.
The brunette wasn't exactly crying over the choices she had made, but suddenly attacking the girl with these thoughts, even though very real, didn't feel entirely fitting.
And one thing Valentina had to admit—she felt shy. Or at least, not as confident as she always was. She felt awkward in her own skin, which was unfamiliar territory for her.
The day stretched like that.
In the small breaks she had, she filed her nails, put lotion on her hands, fixed the decorative pillows on the office couch.
Life really did seem colourless without Lilith Hawthorne.
The universe spared Valentina, though, because as she neared the end of her workday, someone very not politely burst into her office.
Both Valentina and Lilith seemed to take turns with how desperate they were. From the outside it might have even looked like a competition.
Valentina startled at the sudden noise, at the speed of it, but as soon as her mind registered who it was, everything else blurred. The blonde girl moved straight over the desk to where Valentina sat, lowering herself to her knees in front of her.
Lilith's pale, cold hands wrapped around the woman's legs, her long nails lightly scratching against the sheer black tights. Her cheek pressed against Valentina's legs too. She simply sat at the woman's feet, hugging her legs like something instinctive.
She didn't speak. She didn't make a sound.
And Valentina didn't move for a while either.
Their apologies—or the ways their moments unfolded—were always strange and always uniquely theirs. Sometimes Lilith wondered if normal couples simply talked things out while she barged into Valentina's office just to fall to her knees.
Well, in that moment, none of that mattered.
They stayed like that. Still, quiet, breathing the same air.
Eventually, Valentina's hand slid to the top of Lilith's blonde head, her fingers moving gently as she began to caress her hair and the back of her head. Lilith only tightened her grip around her leg.
Her light pink, sharp nail dug into the woman's skin, catching on the tights—until the fabric snapped.
Lilith winced when the nail broke.
"Ouch," she whispered, still at Valentina's feet. She unwrapped her hands to look, the acrylic had snapped in half, the broken piece somewhere on the floor. A thin line of blood was visible under what remained, and she could already imagine how painful taking it off would be.
Valentina leaned forward, her expression softening as she extended her hand. Lilith immediately let the injured finger fall into her warm palm so the woman could inspect it.
"Should I kiss it?" Valentina asked, and god, how good it was to hear her voice like that.
Lilith shook her head slightly. "No," she murmured quietly.
She let her hands fall free again and placed her chin on Valentina's lap, drifting somewhere in her thoughts. After a moment she turned her head, resting her cheek fully against the woman's lap, her body finally settling into the safety of it.
Lilith could hear the woman sigh, but then Valentina let out a quiet chuckle—almost a laugh.
Lilith loved that sound.
"We are so strange," the woman murmured, her hand still caressing Lilith's hair with that absent minded tenderness.
"Do you mind it?" Lilith asked softly, eyes fluttering shut. The warmth of Valentina's lap melted the cold in her nose, cheeks, ears—every part of her that had been freezing moments before.
"I really don't," Valentina smiled, the softness in her voice something Lilith felt rather than heard.
"I don't either," Lilith whispered, her lips pulling into a small pout.
She felt Valentina's fingers travel to the sides of her head, guiding her to look up. They settled against her cheeks, firmly framing her face like something precious.
"Oh, what am I going to do with you?" Valentina murmured, gazing down at her in a way that made Lilith's heart throb painfully.
The first impulse rising in Lilith's chest was to say love me—but the words froze somewhere dissolving before they could reach her tongue. She sighed instead.
"Nothing good, I suppose."
Her hand—this time the one without the broken nail—returned to Valentina's leg. She scratched lightly over the sheer tights, the soft rasp of nail against fabric filling the silence between them. Each drag of her fingers was gentle.
"Want to stand up?" the woman asked, letting go of Lilith's face.
Lilith's head fell right back into her lap. She shifted on her knees as if considering movement, but there was no real intent.
"No."
So Valentina let her stay exactly where she wanted to be.
"You're too good," Lilith murmured. "You're letting me.
.. hug you?" She hesitated, trying to describe what she was doing—pressing into Valentina's warmth like some pet seeking shelter.
"After I called you a whore, broke your plate.
.." Her voice faded as she tried to recall the rest. "Wasted cake," she added, almost mournful.
Valentina had to close her eyes for a blink, fighting the urge to laugh at the solemn mention of wasting cake.
"You know I'm not mad," Valentina said. And she wasn't—no mad woman would've called Lilith drunk or not to say the things she said.
"Then what are you?" Lilith asked.
Confused?" Valentina said—it was hardly asking.
"You're too perfect for this world," Lilith repeated, whining softly.
She meant it.
She truly believed she deserved even crueler words than the ones she had thrown at Valentina.
"No one is perfect," Valentina said, tilting her head slightly.
It was the second time Lilith had heard those words today.
Miss Lockhart had been wrong. And Valentina was even more wrong.
Because Valentina was perfect for Lilith. And that was all that mattered.
Or maybe they were right, and the truth was that Lilith idealized the image of love so intensely that Valentina had become its embodiment and a living shape to the thing she'd always imagined.
"When I called you... I was drunk," Valentina said, as if the admission could somehow tarnish her virtue in Lilith's eyes. "Which doesn't mean I didn't mean the things I said, but... it does make me a bit of a hypocrite, doesn't it?"
Lilith smiled, recalling the night she'd called the woman, not sober, slurring something about going on a date, and how furious and annoyed the woman had been.
"A little," Lilith admitted.
"That's why I apologize," Valentina said, her nails lightly scratching Lilith's scalp.
It was tragic, really—Valentina being the one to apologize. They both knew they couldn't ignore the real thing sitting between them forever.
"How do I explain it?" Lilith asked.
She didn't leave Valentina any room to answer, she wasn't truly asking.
"That... information about you triggered something in me, and I cannot handle the fact you even smiled at someone... five years ago." The words came out pathetic, but at least they were honest.
Lilith lifted her head just enough to see Valentina smiling gently—because of course the woman found it a little endearing.
"You acted awfully," Valentina said.
Lilith's cheek went straight back onto the brunette's lap.
"But I'm not going to taunt you for something that makes you react and feel that way," the woman finished.
"It's such nonsense though... even if I don't want to, I sort of push you away," Lilith murmured, her hands resting on Valentina's thighs.
One of her hands—heavy and limp from lack of effort—was taken by Valentina, who began absently touching her fingers, moving them, playing with the hand like it was something interesting and delicate.
"I'm sorry to say this, but... no matter how many times you push me away, I'll still come back," Valentina said. It didn't sound vulnerable, nor like a confession of devotion it truly sounded like a fact. ,
"Thank fuck," Lilith giggled.
Lilith once again, in the span of a single day, thought that love was awful and exhausting.
She lied often, but she would be honest for once if she said many situations like that would happen again.
But thanks to Valentina, some things seemed simpler.