They had shared a meal, and Helena could not remember anything about it other than it being delicious. They had talked, laughed, teased each other in a way that was best described as flirting, but if someone had asked her to relay exactly what they had discussed, she would have been at a loss. She could describe, though, even the subtlest facial expressions that had grazed Myka's face during the course of the evening. She could recall exactly how low the neckline of her dress was, the exact dimensions of the pendant she wore around her neck, the number of times she had laughed, melodically, intoxicatingly, so that Helena had wished she could bottle that laughter and keep it with her forever.
Now, standing in front of the mirror in her room, silently contemplating her reflection, Helena struggled with her thoughts. She wanted…many things. Oh, she wanted Myka in every way imaginable, but this was more than that. She wanted to be close to her, not necessarily in a state of undress, and just feel her presence. Myka was excitement and safety all at once, and Helena knew that being in her company, the two of them alone, was the closest thing she had come to letting her guard down ever since she was woken from that dark, inexplicably long nightmare of bronze. Yet she struggled against the urge to knock on Myka's door to see if she, too, was still awake because doing so was to admit not only to herself but also to Myka that she needed. Helena did not particularly care for needing, she enjoyed taking, possibly lusting after, but 'needing' implied a kind of weakness that she was quick to scorn in others. A weakness that did not fit with reason, structure, ambition, and control.
Had Myka been anyone else she desired, Helena would have gone to their room and seduced them without a thought. She would have followed her instincts, taken what she wanted with equal parts roughness and gentleness, revelled in the pleasure of making them beg. But this was not anyone else, and Helena found herself splashing cold water on her face and collecting a book before soundlessly opening the door to a deserted hallway. Two doors down, across from her, was her destination. The quiet knock was met with an equally low "Come in", and she did, she entered into that safe, exciting place as if it was supposed to be that way. Maybe it was.
Myka seemed unsurprised to see Helena standing there and, noticing the book under her arm, she smiled and patted the side of the bed that was yet unoccupied. If Helena had wanted to describe her feelings in that moment, which she most certainly did not, it would have been with the words 'vulnerable' and 'shy'. Myka did not need her to describe anything, however, because it was written plainly on Helena's face for everyone to see. No, not everyone. It was there for Myka to see, and as Helena got comfortable on the bed next to her, accepting the offer of sharing the duvet before opening her book to start reading, she realised that she did not really mind if Myka knew that she needed her. Because if the expression on her face was an indication, Myka needed her just as much.