The idea of Angel never used to make Erica nervous.
For most of their lives, Angel had been a constant presence — someone who drifted in and out of her world with easy smiles and patient eyes, never demanding more than Erica could give. She was familiar, dependable, the kind of person who waited without needing explanations. And for a long time, Erica hadn't seen her as anything more than that.
But now… things felt different.
Lately, every time they were alone, Erica found herself fidgeting with her sleeves, avoiding too much eye contact, and laughing at things that weren't even that funny. There was a strange new weight to the silence between them — not heavy, exactly, but full of possibility. A stillness that made Erica hyper-aware of the space between them, of the way Angel's gaze lingered just a second too long, of how close their hands always seemed to come without ever quite touching.
It wasn't like what she had with Nicole.
That had been fire — reckless and blinding. All-consuming.
This was something else entirely.
It was steady. Gentle. Safe.
And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't a bad thing.
They sat together on the rooftop that evening, legs dangling over the edge, the sky dyed in soft shades of lavender and fading blue. The city below blinked to life, streetlights flickering on one by one, and the soft hum of traffic floated up like distant music.
Angel handed her a cup of coffee, just the way Erica liked it — sweet but not too sweet, with a dash of cinnamon.
"Thanks," Erica murmured, wrapping her hands around the warmth.
They sat in silence for a moment, sipping, listening to the world slowly exhale as night settled in.
Then Angel spoke.
"Do you think you'll ever fall in love again?"
The question was quiet, almost casual, but Erica felt it land like a pebble in her chest — a small ripple spreading wide.
She looked down at her cup. "I don't know."
Angel didn't push. She just nodded, her eyes trained on the horizon, where the sun was slipping behind the buildings.
"It's okay if you're not ready," she said.
But the thing was… maybe she was.
Maybe not completely.
Maybe not perfectly.
But there was something in the way Angel looked at her — not like she was broken or fragile, but like she was still someone worth waiting for — that made Erica feel like she could start again.
She turned her head slightly, watching Angel in profile. The soft wind brushed strands of hair across Angel's face, and for a moment, everything around them felt still. Focused. Real.
"Why are you asking me that?" Erica asked, her voice softer than she intended.
Angel didn't look at her at first. Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
"We've known each other since we were kids," she said slowly, "and I know this might not be the right time to talk about it, especially with everything you've been through. But…"
Erica tilted her head. "But what?"
Angel finally looked at her. And this time, her expression wasn't careful. It wasn't guarded. It was full of something raw and uncertain and brave.
"Erica… will you accept my love for you?"
The words fell like a soft echo into the air, but their weight hit Erica like thunder.
She froze.
The coffee in her hands had gone completely cold, and yet her palms suddenly felt warm with nerves. Her heart stuttered, then picked up speed, louder than the wind, louder than anything else.
Angel had said it.
She had really said it.
Erica didn't know how long she sat there, staring at Angel as if trying to see something different, something new — but all she found was the same girl who had always been there. The same girl who stayed when others left. The same girl who knew how Erica took her coffee and never asked for anything in return.
And maybe that was what scared her the most.
Because buried beneath the shock was something else — something that felt dangerously close to relief.
She liked her.
She liked her, and she had known it for a while now. But she had buried it deep, behind every memory of Nicole, behind every fear that loving someone again would only end in pain.
What if it happened all over again?
What if she said yes and it ruined everything?
Erica opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chest felt too tight to speak. The sky had turned navy blue, and stars had begun to flicker above them like tiny, hesitant confessions.
"I…" she started, then trailed off.
Angel didn't pressure her.
She just sat there, quietly, watching her, her expression calm despite the storm that must have been raging inside her.
"I think…" Erica began again, then forced herself to look Angel in the eyes. "I think we should talk about this later."
Her voice came out more awkward than she'd hoped — tight, uncertain — and she tried to smooth it over with a cringy smile.
Angel didn't flinch.
She didn't laugh, or cry, or turn away.
She just gave a slow, small nod, as if she had already prepared herself for that answer. As if waiting a little longer wasn't a loss.
"Okay," she said gently. "Later."
Erica exhaled, the tension in her shoulders barely loosening.
"I'm not saying no," she added quickly, feeling a sudden urgency in her chest. "I'm just… I'm scared."
Angel offered her a small smile. "I know."
Erica looked away, frustrated with herself. "You deserve more than someone who can't even answer a simple question."
Angel reached over, her hand resting lightly on Erica's knee — not to hold her there, not to sway her, just to remind her she wasn't alone.
"I'm not asking you to be perfect," she said softly. "I'm just asking you to be honest."
Erica felt her throat tighten. She nodded, blinking away the sting in her eyes.
They sat in silence again, and this time, it wasn't heavy.
It was gentle.
Kind.
The stars above them burned quietly, like promises whispered in the dark.
And though nothing had been decided, something had shifted.
A door had been opened — not kicked in, not forced. Just gently, bravely unlocked.
When they finally stood to leave, Angel didn't reach for her hand. She didn't lean in or try to steal a moment.
She just smiled and said, "Good night, Erica."
And somehow, it meant more than any kiss.