Title: Paris
Point of View: Raz
Pairing: Raz/Milla, mentions of Sasha/Lili
Categories: Romance, Angst
Type: Drabbley-thingy
Enjoy.
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I don't know when it happened. I don't know why it happened, either. But now that it has happened… I'm scared. I hate being the typical teenager and getting all worked up over a girl I can't have. But hell if that stops my heart, mind and soul from falling for her as hard as could be, anyway. See, that's what Lili and I figured out together, even as we drifted apart after our 6th anniversary. Our minds can say whatever the heck they like, but our hearts basically say 'screw you!' and go off to fall for the weirdest person in the vicinity. And if our hearts start hating the person we used to love, hey, our minds don't have a say in that either. It just happens.
I refused to believe it, at first. Call me a mini-Sasha if you want, but I really didn't want to find out what would happen if I let that kind of emotion loose. After Lili and I broke up, I felt so shocked and… betrayed. We'd had such dynamic, passionate love for each other ever since the events of Whispering Rock, and 7 years later that bond was somehow broken. I was broken. In some ways, I was kind of depressed. But mostly I was just confused. My mind may have known Lili and I were drifting apart, but my heart wasn't ready for it. We were so in love and then, in three short words, she left me… "It's over, Raz." If I couldn't count on Lili, who could I count on and trust?
Damm, if this is what real love feels like, no wonder most teenagers avoid it, I'd thought bitterly.
I had no time to contemplate this, however, before Lili turned 18 and immeadiately married Sasha. If I'd been depressed before, I can only describe my feelings then as a living hell. At their wedding, I looked over at Milla and saw that she was smiling and crying at the same time. Ever perfect, she'd let go of Sasha long ago. When, I don't know. But all of a sudden I had nothing but respect for the coolness of Milla not bugging Sasha for ditching her to get married. Wow, that was awesome, I thought. It was hard, but after a while, seeing the way Sasha looked at her, I quit hating him. After all, it's not Sasha has any more control over the weird thing they call a heart than I do. Life is great like that – we're all at an equal disadvantage when it comes to romance. Oh yeah! Maybe there was somebody out there for me! If Sasha got a girl, those were good odds.
Milla was assigned to be my partner, since Sasha and Lili were together now. I won't lie no matter how angsty I feel: It was sweet! Milla was very smart, and cool, and an awesome dancer. When we were working, she was very good at improvising. It was cool, like I could mess up and Milla would just shrug, take my hand, and tell me how to fix it. Milla was my support when I was weak, my teacher when I screwed up, and was always there to cover my ass when something got so bad we were about to die.
I didn't figure out what the weirdness I was feeling for her was until I was 21. (Or maybe I just wasn't ready to handle it. I never was sure.) I kept telling myself that the flutter in my chest when she smiled was a crush, at the very most. That the way her laugh made me feel warm inside was just me being all mushy. But try as I might, denial doesn't last forever. (Damm, it'd be sweet if it did.) Finally, however, screaming in my head and freaking out just like when I was a teenager, I admitted to myself. I loved Milla Vodello, the Mental Minx. Which led to the question, did she love me back? See, here's where love gets even weirder, if that's possible: You can't tell, or if you can, the same method doesn't work on more than one person. What could just be her little quips in one girl could be deeply felt gestures in another, and you'd never know till you either told them or they left you altogether.
When Milla and I had been assigned to stay a month in Paris doing undercover work, I originally balked at the idea because being in the so-called 'City of Love' wasn't going to help me keep things under control and act normal, which I thought was the grown-up thing to do. That, and I didn't like how French sounded. It sounded rough somehow. Why some women like it is beyond me. And there was no shortage of people here who thought Milla and I were a couple. Maybe it was because Milla liked to loop an arm through mine and lean her head on my shoulder, now that I'm actually taller than her. Maybe it's because sometimes when we look at each other and have a mushy moment, we can tell it's more than a friendship thing – and others can see that too, in our eyes sometimes. God, I hated Paris. All of France, too, if it were like this.
"Darling," Milla said to me, snapping me out of my daydream thoughts, "I know Paris is lovely tonight, but you're going to catch a cold."
I couldn't help but smile at how silly I must have looked: Wearing one of my Psychonauts uniforms and a black trench coat, standing outside on the balcony of our hotel, drenched and overheated in the warm summer rain, my now longer hair dripping down into my eyes without me noticing. My arms were folded across my chest meditatively as I sat on the edge of the balcony, originally to wink at French girls just because they screeched and whispered to each other, waving wildly at me. But now, I was just being weird, which is actually normal in the Psychonauts, so it's not weird, it's normal.
Wow, that was a bizarre thought. But hey, it made as much sense as the rest of the stuff I'd been thinking about, really.
"Agent Vodello?" I asked her with a grin, "How am I going to catch a cold when it's sixty degrees out and I'm wearing a jacket?"
Milla put a hand to her forehead and said something in Portuguese that I recognized as 'oh God, another Sasha'. I laughed, and suddenly Milla splashed me. Unprepared, I nearly fell off my perch, but Milla caught me with catlike reactions. The same catlike reactions that usually were used for saving my ass in the field, now brought us a lot closer together. By a lot, I mean her arms were now firmly wrapped around my back, over my shoulders. My hands were placed very gingerly (and accidentally!) right below her shoulders, and I could feel her heart racing just like mine. My face was so close that when I spoke, our lips brushed together. The sensation was wild and I swear that it was way sexier than anything else in the entire universe.
"Milla, I love you a lot," I blushed, feeling a lot like a teenager. "Is that okay?"
She smiled then, and it reached her emerald eyes in a way that made me feel good just because I knew I'd made her happy. Milla's soft, Brazilian-accented voice was warm and true somehow as she replied, "Of course darling, I've loved you for a long time."
I was too stunned to take the next step and kiss her. But as always Milla did what I couldn't do for me, gently pressing our lips together. I swear, despite how cool I try to be, my face must've been beat red right then. Yet I sorta didn't care. I mean, this was Milla – smart, compassionate, brave, understanding Milla who was delicate and yet totally knew how to kick butt. She was totally worth it, even if it was embarrassing. Then again, I was 21. Embarrassment was probably psychologically healthy or something. If it was, it wouldn't have surprised me. Milla was great with knowing and doing exactly what I needed and making it seem really, really cool.
My mind shut down; my body was on fire. Figures she'd be good at kissing along with everything else. God, I love her. Awkwardly I wrapped my arms around her neck, and she smiled into our kiss. When she giggled softly, it tickled my lips and I smiled too. Screw what I originally thought about this mission.
I now officially love Paris. Viva la France!