Chapter Text
powder sat cross-legged on the old floor of the dusty attic, bits of charcoal smudged on her fingers, a half-finished sketch of a wind-up monkey staring up from her notebook. the late afternoon sun filtered in through the cracked window, painting the room in hazy gold. it smelled like mothballs, rusted gears, and a little bit like her childhood.
“still blowing stuff up in your notebooks?” came a teasing voice from the doorway.
powder startled and quickly shoved the sketchpad aside, cheeks flaring pink. “i wasn’t blowing it up! it’s just…mechanical theory.”
the girl leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. she was a year and a half older, lanky but strong, with oil-stained fingertips and a spark behind her eyes like she knew more than she let on. her name was wyn—vi’s best friend from the surface—who somehow made even grease-streaked overalls look like armour.
“mechanical theory, huh? pretty intense for a lazy sunday.” she walked in and flopped down beside powder, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
powder swallowed hard and tried to focus on anything other than how warm wyn was next to her. “what’re you doing here? vi’s out with claggor.”
wyn grinned, pulling a gear-shaped pendant from under her shirt and spinning it between her fingers. “yeah, i know. i came to see you.”
powder blinked. “me?”
“don’t sound so surprised.” wyn nudged her gently. “you’re more fun, anyway.”
it was meant to be a joke. a light thing. but powder’s heart did this weird little stutter, and suddenly her fingers felt clumsy, like she couldn’t remember how to hold a pencil.
for months now, it had been like this—quiet flickers of confusion every time wyn touched her shoulder or ruffled her hair, the way her stomach would somersault when wyn smiled just at her, and how sometimes powder caught herself staring too long, wondering what her lips would taste like, then immediately hating herself for it.
“do you ever…” powder’s voice caught. she fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. “do you ever think about how weird it is, liking people?”
wyn arched an eyebrow. “weird how?”
“like—you grow up thinking it’s supposed to be one thing. obvious. simple. but it’s not. and then sometimes you look at someone and everything gets...loud.”
wyn was quiet for a moment. then she reached over, carefully brushing a streak of charcoal from powder’s cheek with her thumb.
“i think that means you like them, bluebell.” she said gently.
powder’s breath caught in her throat.
and for the first time, she didn’t push the thought away. she didn’t flinch from it or bury it beneath her inventions. she just sat there, heart pounding, next to someone who felt safe. someone who made her feel seen.
“yeah,” she whispered. “i think i do.”