Rain and Roses

Rosy took a deep breath, and faced her opponent, the winding path before her. If she could steel her nerves, she might finally get some closure. She couldn't allow herself to hope for the best.

Behind her, the bustling metropolis of London II warbled quietly as the day ended.

She took a step.

On either side of her, colourful flowers made from cogs, springs and tin dotted the astroturf. She remembered helping Georgie paint them; how she had laughed, paint smearing her face, at a joke Rosy had told, and how Rosy had seen the sun shine in Georgie's eyes.

That was the moment she realised she loved Georgie.

Georgie with her dark eyes, turquoise curls and soft, gentle hands.

She loved the leather jackets Georgie always wore, and her paint-stained dungarees always loose to her waist.

She loved the way Georgie always said what she meant and did what she wanted with no care for what others thought.

And God above did she love the way Georgie looked at her, with serious, hungry eyes that seemed to drink in everything they saw.

With Georgie, she felt seen.

Maybe that was why she was shaking as she took another step towards the house; Georgie was such a good friend, that the fear of losing her over a stupid crush was almost too much to bear.

But so was the crush.

And so, she kept walking. She passed the big wire tree, with its light-bulb fruits that she’d helped hang on a warm summer night.

She passed the real flowers, tulips, a novelty in this day and age, that she'd insisted on planting in a little pot. Rex liked them at least, if only to piss on.

Martin must be walking Rex, she realised, or else he’d have come bounding out on his clunky legs that Louisa always swore needed oiling, tail wagging and tongue lolling.

She was close enough to the house now to hear the radio, playing god-awful free jazz, as it always did when Louisa was home.

Somehow that blasted music genre had managed to claw its way through the apocalypse and out the other side. In a dying world, you'd think people wouldn't want to deal with that sort of thing. Unfortunately, the music had stuck, making it one of the most long-lived genres in recorded history. Cursing free jazz with all her heart had gotten her much closer to the house without her noticing, and now she stood, mere metres from the door.

Shit.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this.

She.

Couldn't.

Do.

This.

It would be so easy to just slink away, pretend nothing had changed, and carry on as normal. Give it a week or so, and see if she still felt the same. Feelings change after all.

But somewhere inside, she knew she wouldn't forgive herself if she fled now, tail between her legs.

God, why did this have to be so hard?

Her internal debate was rudely interrupted, as the door before her was yanked open, and there she was, with her teal curls and her fluffy Moomin PJs.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

Rosy realised she should probably say something.

"Getting ready for bed already, Peretz?"

Nice work genius.

"Here on earth, a more common greeting is hello."

Georgie chuckled at her own joke, and Rosy laughed awkwardly. Could she do this? Dragging a full bin bag behind her, Georgie led the way around the side of the house, "It's the weekend, smartass, I've been asleep for most of the day."

She tossed the bag down the chute, and Rosy followed her around to the kitchen, where Louisa shuffled out to greet her.

"Oh! Rosy, it's been so long since you've come round, I thought you didn't like my cooking!"

"Impossible, Louisa, even my own mother can't cook paella as well as you."

Lousia clucked and blushed, and waved them out of the kitchen with her spatula.

"Suck up." Georgie laughed as they descended the stairs.

"What? it's true. Your mum's a wicked cook."

Georgie nodded and let Rosy into her room.

"So, why'd you come over?"

Rosy stopped short. Play it cool, Robinson.

"Oh, I was just wondering if you, you know, wanted to hang out."

Suuuper cool yeah... Jesus.

Georgie's eyes narrowed, "Hang out?" she asked, stepping closer.

There was a beat before her face lightened and she tapped Rosy's nose, "You're so weird," she laughed, turning away as Rosy quietly let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Says you. Anyway, I thought you might wanna go to our spot, it's been a while."

"Sounds great, let me get my shit."

"You should probably change too."

"Naw I was thinking of starting a new fashion trend ya know?" she pulled some ridiculous pose and received a pillow to the face.

"Smartass," Rosy muttered, turning away as Georgie changed. 

In a surprisingly quick time, for Georgie, they were on their way.

They walked in the golden evening glow through soulless sleek neighbourhoods, lined with hover-cars, and through bustling streets with washing lines crossing overhead - banners of clothes.

They continued further, through half-abandoned streets, where they drew closer to each other, and didn't dare stare back at the eyes peeking from the shadows.

And further still, to where the crumbling stone was eaten by moss, and spiked grass peeked through cement. Here, they paused and tied their daps to their bags, walking barefoot through the ruins of what had once been.

'Their spot' was a place they'd discovered last summer; it was as close to the city boundary as they could get before reaching The Fence. It was a quiet little space, hidden by shrubs with an old tree leaning out over a little river. The banks were soft and mossy, and the light through the leaves was dappled and gold. Gentle rain shimmered in the light.

It was perfect.

Georgie flung her rucksack down, and Rosy did the same.

"Fight you for the rope swing?"

Rosy laughed; despite her rough exterior, Georgie always lost their little wrestling matches. She was light and quick on her feet, which did her no good against Rosy, who had at least 15kgs on Georgie.

But she agreed, and they fought until they almost tumbled into the river, at which point Rosy rolled back and laughed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Georgie shift, but she didn't think anything of it until she was being pulled into the river.

She screamed as they hit the water, and came up spluttering.

"You fucking twat!" she yelled, swimming after Georgie, and splashing and hitting the girl who was roaring with laughter.

After they'd pulled themselves out of the river, Georgie pulled a towel from her bag and threw it to Rosy, who had no doubt that she now looked like a drowned rat.

Around them, the rain started to fall, catching the light and creating a moving golden veil. The crickets stopped their chirping, making the riverside seem still.

"You planned this." she accused, while drying her hair.

"I planned a lot more, too."

Georgie's voice came from much closer than expected, and Rosy looked up to find the other girl in front of her, blushing.

Her words hung in the air before them, but neither could reach out and grasp them. Georgie coughed, then pulled off her shirt and jumped back into the river.

"I JUST dried my hair!" Rosy yelled, but shimmied out of her dress and tights to follow.

As the sun grew lower, it pierced through branches and illuminated the withered trunks of trees that had witnessed the birth of a new world. The rain grew heavier, beating the surface of the river, drowning out everything but this. Still, they swam in the clear, cold water, washing the city dust off their skin.

Georgie was first to start shivering, so they climbed out, and lay on Georgie's towel, staring up at the purple sunset birthing shining stars, raindrops trailing down their faces and landing in their eyes.

She let out a deep sigh, and her next words were soft, "Did I tell you about how, when I was younger, I used to hate swimming?”

Rosy chuckled, sensing the start to one of Georgie’s stories, “If you have, I’ve forgotten”

“I never put my head under and stayed as far away as possible, but then one day we were walking along the eastern canal, and I fell in. Shit, I nearly drowned, but they fished me out, and, you know what the first thing I said to my bawling mother was? 'I saw astronauts!'" she laughed, "After that, they couldn't keep me out of the water."

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"See astronauts?"

"'Course I fucking didn't."

They lay back and laughed, before Rosy tilted her head towards Georgie, "So why did you tell her you had?"

"It was the floating, I think. I was spinning around, I couldn't tell which way was up, and I felt free for the first time I could remember.

Like what I expected space to be like."

They were silent for a time, before Georgie spoke again.

"With silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.'"

Rosy smiled and watched Georgie as she spoke, eyes wide, staring through the gap in the clouds, soft lips barely moving.

"High Flight by John Magee," she said, when Georgie finished "I love it when you recite poetry."

Georgie hummed, and her cheeks flushed slightly, then she looked back up at the sky, muted purples creeping to black.

Rosy shifted uncomfortably for a second, heart beating like it wanted to escape her chest, and then suddenly she was barely an inch away from Georgie, staring into the bottomless depths of her eyes.

Georgie looked right back up at her.  

Then, she paused.

"Right, so don't get weird or anything, but..."

Georgie’s giggle sent the blood rushing to her head.

That was all she needed, and with the rain hitting her shoulders she leaned in and their lips met.

Georgie didn't pull away.

Georgie tasted minty, and her lips were as soft as they looked.

She pulled back and took a deep breath, "So um... I... Sorry?"

Georgie laughed, so Rosy continued, "I mean... I liked it? If you did, could we maybe-"

"Just kiss me already, silly."

And she did.