Nuages

She looked at her like she was the sun. Iona refused to leave Antonia’s field of vision, so Antonia only ever looked at her in frustration. She revelled in her warmth and protested when she was gone, but she never really looked at her.

Until Iona was leaving. In the sunset, Antonia would wonder how she hadn’t seen her like this before.

Antonia stared at the sunrise, swinging her legs into the emptiness of air. 

The sounds of skipping footsteps, bouncing and cheery. Iona sat down beside her. Immense, absolute, bold, and disruptive. “Tonia! Good morning. Isn’t the sun nice?”

“No,” Antonia grumbled. Clouds drifted.

Iona continued unabated. “It’s so rosy and drowsy and magical!”

“It’s too bright. Too vivid. Hurts my eyes.” The sky was an awful florid orange, greasy and lurid. As if it was drowsy. Iona needed to get her eyes checked.

“No? It’s like a peaceful pastel,” Iona rebutted, tilting her head to the side and pouting. 

“More of an awful pink.” The sunrise was anything but peaceful and calm. It was blinding, immense and ceaseless.

“It’s misty and pale and warm!”

“It’s horrible and stinging and explosive,” Antonia groused, twirling her hair. “It’s better when it’s leaving.”

Iona hugged her legs to her chest. “That’s a sad way to look at the sun. I think it’s prettier when it comes. Like a slow, sleepy, hazy joy.” 

“The moon is better. It’s always pretty. I’ve only ever squinted angrily at the sun. It’s merciless.”

“Yeah, the moon is pretty. But the sun is warm. Almost cuddly. Tender. The moon’s cold and freezing and brr. I bet you’re sad when the sun’s gone.” She waves her hands around, bracelet brushing against the brick. “The sunrise is positive. A new day.”

“The moonrise is positive. A new night. Sleep.”

”Yeah, but… The sun’s delightful. The day’s delightful. The morning’s great. Morning dew and spuriousness and coral colours and romantic clouds.”

“You trying to go poet on me?” Despite herself, Antonia laughed.

“I’m manifesting my inner Shizu.” She crossed her legs and held her hair up into a ponytail. “Oh, I’m Shizu! I have it bad for Harper and refuse to admit it.” Shizu and Harper were so easy together that Antonia sighed as Iona giggled, the sound high-pitched, glassy, and candid. But Antonia smiled, against all her better judgement. Iona saw and beamed. “Oh. So you do still like me. Good. I was getting worried.”

Antonia elbowed her. “In your dreams.”

The dew vanished into the air and a sole bird wet its wings in the dampness. The bricks beneath them stayed still as they always did.

The sky moved around them sitting on this jutting tower’s roof. Iona stuck a tongue out. “Sun’s out, sweetheart, and the day’s taking you with it.” Antonia fondly rolled her eyes as Iona uncrossed her legs and draped her arm over Antonia’s shoulder, gazing at the clouds. “This is nice.”

“Disagreement,” Antonia claimed, even as she relaxed and her eyes followed a flying blackbird. 

“Then leave,” Iona challenged, all the while as she suddenly lay supine and pulled Antonia down with her. Antonia caught herself just before she tumbled into the floor as well, her face a few inches from Iona’s. Her eyes were nebulous and the same colour as the clouds, her cheeks dappled with sunlight. She smiled smugly, reaching up and softly tapping Antonia’s nose. The audacity. 

Antonia blushed a bright red, her face painted strawberry. She awkwardly fumbled into a lying position as well and looked up.

Coral coloured clouds, just as Iona had said, migrated slowly across the sky. Intricate laces of mist covered the sunlight, and she could almost see the light fluttering of the sun’s breath on its misty veil. The lapping of rolling ocean waves grew louder, as well as the smell of salt. 

She was painfully aware of Iona’s self-satisfied stare.

Because she was never one to back down from challenges, she tore her eyes away from the sky and turned her head to meet Iona’s intent look. Though Antonia knew it would be waiting for her, it was still surprising how pretty she really was in the misty air. Rosy and drowsy and magical. Their eyes locked. 

A chilling gust of wind interrupted the moment, and then, rain. A quiet sort of rain. Gentle and light and dancing on their skin. A white butterfly landed on Iona’s left hand, flapped its wings, and flew away. 

It was almost religious.

Iona raised the hand up to the sky, a finger reaching out and tracing the rolling clouds. A bird sang from a tree far below, and Iona looked back at Antonia and smiled, skin a peaceful pastel in the hazy view. A silver strand of lank hair covered her left eye. 

Antonia reached out and brushed it away, tucking it gently behind Iona’s ear as the rain coloured it darker. “Your hair’s so messy.”

“You’re one to talk. Look at yours!” Indeed, Antonia’s long cream and crepe-coloured hair was strewn around them, mottled with wet spots, tangled and wind-blown. “What, do you brush it once a month?”

“...Yes. Always on the twenty-eighth. With your hairbrush.” Antonia admitted.

Chuckling, Iona remarked, “Twenty-eighth? Any reason for that date?”

“...No.” Iona had come to the Bonded on February the twenty-eighth. 

Her mouth was half-open and framed in the foggy light, her face speckled with dew.

“Kiss me, please.” Antonia’s words came out in a flurry, fast and blunt. She was usually somebody who hid her feelings away, who deliberated before every sentence. But this. This she definitely wanted.

Iona smiled. "Thought you'd never ask." With water smudged across her face and dirt on her forehead, and their lips met. Butter from breakfast. Lychee and cream. Cinnamon and the violets she always pinned onto her vest. The hand clutching at Antonia’s collar was warm despite the rain, and their limbs tangled in a way that felt transcendently home.

Antonia closed her eyes.

Maybe the sunrise wasn’t so bad after all.