A/N: Sadly, I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story OR Pretty Little Liars. Dangit.
Please let me know if you guys want to read anything specific storyline or if you want me to change anything about my writing for the next story! I LOVE feedback!
Story takes place in 5x01. Enjoy :)
"Where have you been?"
The sound of her voice causes me to jump; I had figured all of the girls were asleep. I turn around slowly, trying not to wake the other girls.
Emily is sitting in an old fashioned armchair with her legs and arms crossed. She stares at me with an annoyed expression on her face. The little amount of light reflects off of her white teeth as she bites down on her lip hard.
"Oh, hey, Em," I say casually. I place my hand on my right hip and unevenly distribute my weight between my legs.
"Don't," Emily snaps. She stands up and refolds her arms. Her eyebrow arches as she waits for an explanation.
"Listen, it's not what you think," I try to explain. I don't know why I never give a straight answer to anyone.
"Oh, please. For once in your life, stop lying," she scoffs. "What boy did you run off with this time? Was it worth it, Ali? We've been risking our lives for you, and all you care about is yourself. Spencer was right: you haven't changed."
I swallow and try to fight the tears that begin to sting my eyes. I sniffle and wipe my nose, trying to remain casual.
"Em, it's not like that," I say, somehow managing to control my voice.
"Then what's it like?"
"Shh," I place my finger over my lips. I reach my hand out for her to grab. "Come on, let's go somewhere more secluded. I don't want to wake the other girls up."
She stares at my outstretched hand and rolls her eyes.
"Why not? Because they're not hopelessly in love with you, so they won't fall for your stupid manipulative tricks?"
I grimace, but keep my hand extended.
"Please, Emily," I whisper. My hand starts to shake and shiver and I long for her warm touch.
"Fine," she grasps my hand, but makes sure not to intertwine our fingers. I subtly try to fix that detail, but it's futile. She pretends not to notice, and her fingers tighten their vice-grip on mine.
I lead her off of the stage and into the back corridor. The lights are off, but my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. My free hand grazes the wall as we walk by, just in case.
At the end of the hall, I can make out the doorway to a small dressing room. I take a deep breath and glance back at Emily. The light from the stage illuminates part of her face. Her eyes are focused on our hands, but there's no expression in them. My heart flutters and I clear my throat, looking forward again.
We reach the dressing room; it smells like fresh paint, but it's still furnished. My hand searches the wall beside me for the light switch. In a few moments, the room is lit up. I make sure to keep my physical contact with Emily as I move forward into the small room. I sit down on one of the benches in the middle of the room and gesture for her to do the same, silently praying that she would sit next to me. Instead, she sits on the bench across from mine. We're still close—I can reach out and touch her.
But I don't.
She crosses her legs and her eyes widen. She has an expectant look upon her face while she stares at me.
"Em," I start to say, but stop. I want to tell her how I feel; it would explain everything. But every time I even come close to saying something, I change my mind and say something insulting or teasing instead. I hate that defense mechanism; I wish I could just come clean and tell her just how much she means to me. I don't even think that any word or phrase could ever do it justice, though. It's impossible to describe, but I have that itching urge to at least try.
Emily continues to stare at me. She looks down and furrows her eyebrows a little. I follow her gaze and inwardly gasp; I hadn't even realized that I was reaching out to put my hand on her leg. I frantically shove both hands in my pockets and try to pretend that nothing happened.
"There are just some things that you shouldn't know about. It's better that way," I tell her. I know that she thinks I'm talking about where I was, but I'm not. I'm trying to talk about how much I love her.
It's truly better if she doesn't know, though. It would be so selfish for me to admit my feelings to her. I've led her on and hurt her so much… Out of all of the mistakes I've made in my life, I regret that the most. I deserved what I got; if I was treated even half as badly as I treated other people, I would hit me with a rock, too.
"I'm not made of glass, Ali," Emily says fiercely. I blink several times, trying to get back to the present situation. "You can stop treating me like I'm going to break any second; I don't need to be saved."
Glass. Why would I think that she's made of glass? She has more than proven how strong she is; if anything she's made of steel.
I stare at her, my mouth hanging open a tad.
But that's it! She is made of glass.
"Emily," I whisper, scooting forward on the bench to be closer to her, "you are the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on."
She looks confused and furrows her eyebrows.
"When I was a kid and I would visit my grandmother in Georgia, I used to look at her snow globe collection. It sounds lame," I toss the disclaimer in there because she looks like she's about to argue, "but I promise it has a purpose. Anyways, she had this room in her house dedicated to snow globes. You know how some people have like trophy collection rooms or offices? Yeah, it was like that. There was so much glass everywhere; the bright light that reflected off of each piece reminded me of the ocean, and how the sun glistens over the waves and over the water. I was always interested in water, did you know that?"
She shakes her head.
"It's so beautiful, with the deep blue and light green colors twisting together to make a specific color that can only be described as 'the ocean.' There's no other way to describe the unique colors and shades of blue and green other than that."
She shifts on the bench and crosses her legs. I notice her gaze wandering around the dressing room that we found ourselves situated in. She seems to be looking everywhere except for me. I feel a pang of sadness because of that, and it makes me nervous. But, hell, I'm Alison DiLaurentes. I've never shown vulnerability at any cost… except for in front of Emily.
I take a deep breath, hoping it'll give me confidence, and reach my hand forward. I squeeze her leg around the kneecap and she looks at me, startled. Her eyes shift back and forth between my gaze and my grip on her knee.
"I always wanted to show you that room, Emily. I know you would've loved it. I would've loved to see you there," I blush insanely and clear my throat, hoping it'll cause my face to recompose itself. "The light reflecting off of your smooth skin and dark, sleek hair. I can just imagine your striking eyes soaking in all of the beauty, even though you don't even realize that the most beautiful thing in the room would be yourself."
Emily's breath hitches. Her face flushes and her eyes are uncertain.
"I wrote that story while I was in Georgia. Do you know which one I'm talking about?" I ask. I'm hoping that the more I keep talking the more confident I'll become. I take another deep breath and slide closer to her. "'The Mermaid.' If only you could see how beautiful you are, Em. Somehow you saw that in me; it's probably too late for me to even explain everything, but I want to try. I promise I can."
She swallows and puts her hand on top of mine. The blood rushes to my face and my heart feels like a tin drum. I silently pray that she can't see the fact that my heart is pounding so fast, my shirt is throbbing with it.
"Go on," is all she says. Her thumb strokes the back of my hand for a second and then stops.
"I brought you one of my grandmother's snow globes; it was her absolute favorite. She told me to give it to my fiancé as a wedding present, kind of like an engagement ring I guess. I can't stress the fact that I had to give it to you, Em. I had to. I love that globe so much because of its sentimental value, and who better to give it to than the person I trust more than anyone in the world? The person who is the real reason behind its sentimental value?"
"Ali," she begins but her voice trails off. She stares down at our intertwined hands and shakes her head slowly. "Ali, you were in love with Ian. You were willing to throw away your friendship with Spencer just to be with him."
"No, Em," my voice cracks. "I just really, really wanted to care about him. But I never could. I wanted to fight the feelings that I've always had for you. Everything I did back then wasn't to prove I was 'better than you guys' or 'more attractive' or anything. I was trying to convince myself of the fact—"
My voice cracks even worse. My throat is so hoarse and I've never felt this nervous before in my entire life, not even while on the rooftop with A.
"The fact?" Emily prods me to continue. She holds onto my hand tighter and looks at me with the typical 'Emily face.' The one where her forehead is creased, her eyes are wide, and her mouth is in a straight line and yet still open; it's so adorable. I open my mouth a couple of times, but my throat feels too raw to speak.
"The fact that I love you," I choke out finally. "I love you, Emily. I always have. All of the times you thought I was leading you on, I really wasn't. I was giving into the temptation of my feelings for you. I was afraid for so long, Em. But I'm not afraid anymore."
"Ali, I—" she hesitates and closes her eyes forcefully. "I don't know what to say."
My heart deflates a little. I don't know what I was expecting. I guess I thought that she would forgive me like the flip of a light switch and we could move forward with our lives together. I bite my lip to stifle a sob.
"Ali, I cared about you—"
The past tense breaks me, and I burst out crying. I can't believe how stupid I've been for so damn long. Why didn't I tell her when I had the chance? Why didn't I tell her before I went missing? If I had, I may not have even had to fake my death.
I let go of her leg and bury my head between my legs. My arms are cradling the top of my head, almost as if they're shielding me from the inevitable truth. I feel her fingers lightly brush my back and start to rub tiny circles.
"No," she says suddenly. It startles me so much that I flinch a little and force myself to make eye contact with her.
"I still care about you—a lot," she admits, and the color rises in her beautiful cheeks. "It's just really hard for me to wrap my mind around. I always knew that you cared for me in a different way than you cared for anyone else, but I never expected it to be like this. I'm flattered, and I'll admit that it makes me really happy, but it can't change what you did, Ali. You destroyed me. How could you let me think that you were dead?"
"Em, I had to leave Rosewood. A was after me."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but A has moved on from you and onto us nowadays," she snaps.
"I did everything to try and hint to you that I was still alive," I cry. Tears stream down my face, leaving salty trails on my cheeks and chin. "I saved your life. I risked everything for you—I really did. And I would do all of it again in a heartbeat."
Emily opens her mouth to speak, but doesn't. She stares at me with wide eyes. I feel like they're looking into my soul and inspecting every wrong movement and action that I've ever done. She's not judging me, but it still feels uncomfortable; I've never felt so exposed.
She's silent for a while.
"Say something," I tell her. "Say something, Emily. I'll be the one if you want me to, I swear. I would do anything for you, and I know that you know that."
Tears start to form in her eyes. They shimmer under the light and I'm reminded of the ocean again. I try to push the thought from my mind, but it lingers. She shakes her head and finally looks back at me.
"Ali."
Her eyes have become braver than I'd ever seen before. She stares at me intently. I crumble under her gaze, but before I can look away, she grasps my face in her hands and leans forward.
Our lips touch again and I can't help but emit a small squeak. I have been dying to kiss her throughout our friendship, and I got my wish in the library while trying to explain my feelings through Great Expectations. I just didn't have enough courage to follow through completely. Then, I found the courage to kiss her outside of the barn, but only because I knew that she would be delirious enough to believe it was a dream.
Her fingers comb through my hair and my heart feels like its exploding again. I can feel what everyone in the movies talk about when they kiss their true love. It's not the cheesy fireworks or whatever, but it's a daze. I feel like nothing else in the world matters. My heart is light and there's nothing but Emily in my life, and nothing but her lips on mine. I feel like I'm in the mode right before sleep, when you're most content and relaxed. Being around Emily has always done this for me, but kissing her is a completely different story.
"Alison?"
My world stops. I break my lips away to see Hanna and Spencer staring at the two of us.
I look between the two of them, avoiding Emily's gaze at any cost.
Hanna's jaw has basically dropped to the floor. She tries to speak, but it just looks like she's trying to eat a donut whole. She gasps for nonexistent air, but makes no noise.
Spencer's eyes dart between Emily and me. My mouth goes dry as I try to think of excuses as to why I'm kissing my best friend.
But then I come to a realization. If I go back into my shell and pretend like it was just Emily hitting on me, then I lose completely. I lose Emily, first and foremost, but I also will be right back where I started, always avoiding my feelings for her.
I clear my throat. I want to come clean to them because not only do I deserve to be honest with myself, but Emily deserves it. She deserves someone who can be tough and take care of themselves, but also know when it's okay to be a real person. It's okay to be myself; I don't need to hide from these feelings anymore.
"What the hell is going on? I thought you were straight," Hanna deadpans. She stares at me seriously, but I can see a smile in her eyes.
"I guess I am," I tell her. I look at Emily in time to see her cast her eyes downward. "I guess I am, but that doesn't mean that I can't be in love with my best friend who happens to be a girl. I spent my entire life putting labels on people: Hermy, Loser Mona, Pigskin, all of them. And I spent my life being in a category that I didn't want to be in. But people aren't meant to be sorted into columns and hung on shelves in alphabetical order or anything. I see that now. And I won't become a victim to my former self any more than I already have."
I can feel Emily watching me, but I keep my eyesight focused completely on Hanna and Spencer.
"And if you give me the chance, I know for a fact that I can prove to you guys that I'm not just playing around."
"Is that a challenge?" Spencer smirks at me and folds her arms. "A Hastings never loses a challenge, but—"
"Oh, shut up, Spencer. No one cares," Hanna shoves Spence a little and winks at me. "Come one, Ali. We all already knew that you had the hots for Emily. She's your mermaid, right?"
I splutter and try to form sentences, but nothing comes out. My face heats up and I'm pretty sure all of the blood from the rest of my body has gone straight to my cheeks.
"When did Hanna become so smart?" I finally manage.
"It just kind of came on suddenly," Hanna shrugs her shoulders.
Emily giggles and reaches out for my hand, intertwining her slender fingers within my own. I look down at our hands and smile to myself.
I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.
