Oksana breathed deeply as sat down at the edge of the bed. Her apartment was trashed, her life equally so. But when had it been different? She thought. She might have laughed at the mess if some feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't attempting to make its way out as well. Not fear, never fear... No, she couldn't, or wouldn't, name it in her own mind, but still it made her grateful for the lingering pain of her external wounds.
When she laid down beside Eve, she could sense her body tense and then relax. The dark curly hair in her periphery let her imagine for a moment she was next to Anna again. Just a moment. The sight of the woman after so many years had jolted her-initially, at least. It was less that Anna continued to have the same hold on her, though it had taken many nights of loneliness and anger to really let go, and more the realization that she was being confronted with the living memory of a completely different version of herself.
She was no longer that girl, no longer bound by another's gaze or wavering desire. She was no "lovesick puppy" (as Konstantin had called her upon their first meeting). She was a master at her craft, that could not be denied, and since the start of her new life she had prided herself on one thing: no matter what happened, she could survive. She was in control. Those instincts were telling her to take control now: to straddle Eve, to kiss her with all the fury and hunger that had led them both to this point. She craved to own some part of the woman, whatever it was she kept coming back to. Unlike with Anna, she knew Eve held a darker center, perhaps even one to match hers.
"You found me," Oksana said. There was a pause. She listened to Eve's steady breathing, felt the closeness of their bodies. "Will you stay with me for a bit?" She asked.
"Yeah," Eve replied. "For a bit." Oksana nodded. She understood, and couldn't help but find some enjoyment in, the chaos she had left in her wake. Of course, that meant there was much to be done to tie things back up again– if that was possible. So many threads had been cut in the past few weeks, she wondered what could be salvaged. It was time to shed this version of herself. New life, she thought, and her fingers gently searched for and found Eve's hand. Neither moved, neither spoke as the single thought on both minds seemed to fill the room: What am I going to do about you?
