Flauraan, Abigail is 20, Sophie is 22

Living with Abi has been love and light and joy. I have often stayed with Abi and her family for weeks and months at a time, shared a bed with her, cooked and cleaned and explored and talked and helped and lived a day to day life. It used to be like a holiday but now it’s my home. I do a lot of my Alliance work from the study nook in Abi’s little house, and the furthest I’ve needed to travel so far has been within the same system, to Halapatov or Werayne. There’s a lot of work to do obviously, collaboration between an intergalactic sentient rights agency and a system of three planets that recently underwent a war and complete restructuring of its politics and powers was never going to be a simple task. A lot of it is very mundane though; almost boring. Resource allocation, board meetings, discussions about borders and representatives and priorities. Which planet should host an Alliance Embassy? Is that something they even want? What role can the Alliance play in the reparations to Werayne from Flauraan and Halapatov? What are the ethical and galactolegal implications of the dismantling of Aandrigo as a refugee camp? What trade and knowledge might the Staarus system have to offer the Alliance in the future? Very exciting stuff, very complicated stuff. Sometimes I get to draw diagrams. It’s all a bit intense. But all worth it because at the end of every day I collapse into bed next to Abigail, and cuddle into her for a few minutes before I remember that I need to remove my arm and make sure it’s charging correctly so it doesn’t short circuit the entire house. We’ll always talk about our days and make sure we spend some quality time together before bed and then we sleep for the next day when we do it all again.

For her part, Abigail has put aside all of her work and studies from before the war and has taken to working in the family businesses. She says she can’t cope with healing work anymore, and I suppose I can’t blame her. She is defeated nowadays in a way I have never seen her, but nonetheless a massive weight has been lifted from her since the war ended.

She is, to be fair, also involved in the post war restructuring work that the Alliance is helping with. She doesn’t feel particularly like she deserves such a position, but it’s the sort of thing they push you into when you play a role like we played in the war. Jayken, Alexa and Rojjel are involved too, of course, in varying capacities. Mickey and Beth even occasionally feature in a meeting. It’s quite surreal.

It’s hard to envision being apart from Abigail anymore, although I miss my friends and want to visit them, and also know I will need to leave for official Alliance business at some point. Her presence is such a comfort to me, and I know mine is for her too.

I guess Abi has been a bit on edge. It kind of reminds me of how she was before we started dating. And then it turned out she was really struggling with feelings for me, and was convinced I didn't like her back. Is there something I’m missing? Honestly when it comes to relationship stuff I’m completely out of my depth.

I haven't really questioned the progress of our relationship. I know it's not normal, but like, why would it be? Our story has to be as unique as it comes.

Being asexual hasnt affected things so far really. At least I don't think it does. The kissing is the big thing I think about, that I think is askew in me. Like how do you decide when to kiss someone? How often are you meant to do it? I'm always happy to do it but I just follow Abi’s lead because I don't really spend much time thinking about it.

When we first got together, on the space station, our only private place was our bedroom, so we were pretty much kissing every night. It was nice, and we'd just gotten together, so it made sense to me.

We hadn't even been together that long before we got separated, and I lost my arm while being held in a weraynian prison camp. Then when we reunited I remember just the one kiss, at the hospital in a rare moment of alone time. I remember it vividly, being so caught up in the joy of seeing people I loved and going to follow Mickey through to the hangar but then Abi held me back. And she kissed me. Even though I'd missed her I never would have thought to do that then. But obviously it was something she'd been longing for, and didn't want to wait any longer.

And that was probably the right move because we didn't kiss for the rest of the war; the very next thing we learnt was that Jayken had been taken by the Staarus forces and we spent every waking moment after that fighting to find him. And then fighting to heal his broken body. And then Abi and I hardly slept in a room without him, determined to watch over him, protect him. And besides, we weren't really in a mindset to be doing couple stuff.

I know Abi feels a little guilty about the timing of us getting together, but I also know she was spiralling on that space station, and feeling like she had to hide her feelings for me was making everything worse. I don't blame her at all. I don't think we did anything wrong. It was a good thing in the midst of all the bad.

When we got back to Flauraan, after, there was a lot of kissing. In Abi’s room, at all times of the day. Her family was busy, and that gave us plenty of space. And before a lot of stuff was officially set up we were free of meetings and plans and had the days to ourselves. We would go for walks through the woods, and Abi would lead me to places that were significant to us and ask me to kiss her - the pond where we’d threaded flowers in each other’s hair before the treaty ceremony; the hill where she loved to stargaze and where we tended to teleport to and from Flauraan; the very spot in the forest where we'd met, smashing into each other when my teleport watch automatically redirected me, which Abigail remembered perfectly somehow; it could've been anywhere in my mind and I'd never be able to find it again. Just another part of the forest.

I sorta feel I’m never going to be able to keep up with all this.

It’s not super easy trying to adjust to a normal life, living one day in front of the other, no imminent looming threat that we have to face. I mean, it’s been better so far than I thought it would be. I love Abi and living with her has always been a dream of mine. But I have to admit I’m not suited for it. Not so much the mundanity of a life on Flauraan, compared to like the Alliance, but more the life of a girlfriend. Of romance. I’m scared that at some point Abigail is going to expect something from me that I won’t be prepared for.

I wouldn't say I've been putting off the discussion of sexuality or anything. It just hasn't really come up. It feels a bit too specific of a thing. Abi gets me. Abi knows me better than anyone. Surely we don't need to discuss it. I needed to have the label so that Beth would understand why we don't approach some topics the same way, but Abi understands things without them needing to be said. That has always been the way things have been between us.

Even so I’m scared. I trust her to know me but I know I can’t trust myself to do the same for her. And she deserves it, to be understood, to be loved the way she deserves. I’m worried about not being enough for her. I don't know how I'm going to approach this.

I get caught in a storm on my way back from the spaceport one day, and am soaking wet as I get to the house. I shake as much water out of my hair as I can standing in front of the entryway, and Abigail appears to greet me, and her eyes widen at the sight of me dripping everywhere.

She shakes her head at me and disappears back into the house, before reemerging with a towel, which she wraps around me and bundles me in towards the bedroom. The house is uncharacteristically empty; her parents decided after the war that they wanted to take some time off work and go travelling around Flauraan, and they finally got around to it at the start of this week (Abigail says she's done enough travelling for a lifetime, and she was happy to continue her mum's work in the fields anyhow).

Even with the towel I'm still very wet, and Abigail laughs and goes, "Let's get you out of those wet clothes," and I let her tug my shirt over my head and toss it into the basket in the corner of her room. I probably should be thinking of it as our room by now, but habit sticks.

I'm only really half present, not really in a rush to get changed, caught up in my own head, thinking about if my new prosthetic is likely to have any problems from getting this much water on it - probably not right? But I should be taking better care of it. I only zone back in when Abi makes a noise to get my attention and I focus my eyes on her face. I recognise her expression for when she wants to kiss me well by now and I incline my head to let her. We kiss sweetly for a moment and I lean back and smile at her, and then suddenly everything shifts.

She pushes me against the wall, presses her body against mine, kisses me hungrily. I'm a little stunned by it but I try to keep up. Her hands move up and down my body, touching my waist, trace the skin under my boobs. A part of me knows I’m supposed to be enjoying this, and I am, but I’m fighting panicked thoughts. The intensity of this is alarming, and it’s making me realise the thing that I’ve been half dreading is happening now. Sex - whatever that looks like - is the end goal here, right? And I have no idea what I’m doing. What I’m meant to do.

She slips her hands down the side of my pants, cool against my bare skin, which isn’t like, something we haven’t done before, but normally it’s in a much calmer sort of situation. Lying in bed, comfortable, not building up to anything. But right now with all of the intensity of whatever this is I recoil without choice and make a strangled sound in the back of my throat.

The room stills. Abigail takes her hands off of me. She stares at me, eyebrows creased, eyes swirling slowly. “What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding hurt.

I realise that it must seem like I am rejecting her, which is something I never want to do, and I try to fix things before she can withdraw from me completely.

“I'm asexual.” I blurt out and then, knowing that's not enough, wave my hands around unhelpfully as I try to explain. “I don't, um, have sexual attraction to people. Or at least I don't think I do. I'm sorry for not bringing it up earlier. I’ve never had sex, and I don't even know what that would mean.” I'm so stupid. Abigail is looking at me with her lips slightly parted and her eyes almost glaring. For the thousandth time in my life, I wonder what she's thinking.

****

What?

For a fleeting moment I am furious with her; for a nanosecond I am betrayed. I have this horrible selfish instinct to lash out at her for making me endure these tortured feelings for her for years with no relief in sight. But the anger dissipates instantaneously as I regard in a new light my girlfriend, my love, Sophie.

Being in love is an illusion which convinces you that you really do know someone as well as you know yourself, that they feel what you feel and you are totally in sync. As romantic an instinct this is, it is also just wrong. Sophie and I have known each other for so long that it’s easy to forget she is even alien to me; especially when I associate her with her more alien peers in the Alliance.

I doubt my own knowledge of humanity for a minute. Is asexuality the norm on Earth? Surely not, how would they reproduce? Beth, the other human I know well, is sexually active - but they're also half human.

“Oh,” I say, because the silence between us has lasted too long.

I can see the rising panic in her eyes as I process everything. I realise that she has been afraid to tell me this, but also that she didn’t expect things to escalate the way they have. I have to be selfless right now, and brave, and we have to actually talk to each other instead of letting things play out without discussion, the way we have been. I’m astonished we’ve made it this far considering our historied inadequacies at communicating. I was foolish to think that just because we are in sync with so many things, that our sexualities would work the same. We need to work this through. I take hold of her hands and open my mouth.

“But you enjoy… kissing?” I start out attempting to state a fact but find myself questioning even this simple thing. I am overthinking again, casting myself back to our first kiss, to every moment I've read as mutual love and affection. Did she want any of it? Has she been forcing herself to do things she hasn't had a particular inclination to simply because she knows I want it?

She traces my thumb with her robotic finger, smooth and cold. “Of course I do.”

“How do you draw the line on what is sexual attraction and what's not?” I inquire genuinely.

She hesitates. “I'm not sure.” She admits. “It just feels different. Honestly even though I like kissing you, I don't think I would have the desire to kiss someone without having met you. You're the only person I've ever thought about dating or any of it.”

This spreads through me, making me feel special, important, the way Sophie always does. At the same time I feel a misplaced guilt that I can't say the same back.

“So you've never kissed anyone else?”

She shakes her head and then cocks it to the side, eyes wide as if she’s just thought of something. “Have you?”

“Yes, my friend Sierra.” I say.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

“It was while you were gone. After Halapatov.”

“I’m sorry-” she starts but I cut her off.

“No, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to know. We- it was the first time I had sex.”

She nods, eyes a little distracted, and then takes a deep breath. “You’ve obviously been thinking about- about sex.”

I am being selfless. I am not going to lie to her or try to spare her feelings. “Yes, I have.”

“With me.”

“Yes. I guess you haven’t been thinking about the same with me.” I say, and as she opens her mouth to respond I correct the thought. “Or if you’ve thought about it, it hasn’t been easy or positive.” She grimaces.

“I don't want you to miss out on things because of me. I want you to be happy.” Her pleading tone makes me appreciate our relationship in a new light.

“You’re always thinking of what's best for me. I love you for it, but I don't want you to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake. That's not fair.” I say, placing my hand on her cheek. She reaches up and curls her fingers over mine.

“It's not uncomfortable.” She insists. “I guess I just don't think of it. So I was surprised, before. And like, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. What you might want me to do. But I'm happy to learn.”

I smile at her, lowering my voice. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

For a moment all is right with the world as we look at each other and smile. Sophie and Abigail, as the universe is meant to be. Then I realise she is acquiescing to me like usual and we haven’t addressed what actually happened.

“Sophie… I’m sorry for freaking you out before.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been stressing about whether you were desiring me the way I have been you, and feeling like there’s something wrong with our relationship or with me because you didn't escalate things. But knowing that you’re asexual makes it all make sense. I should have just communicated instead of letting myself get desperate and acting like that.”

She bites her cheek. Eventually nods. “I should have told you sooner. But I was scared. I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

“I can’t imagine it’s an easy thing to communicate.”

She retakes my hands. Her fingers are shaking and she looks astoundingly nervous still. “Maybe if you show me what you like, um, sexually, then I can try to do the same things for you. So even if I don’t like it, at least I can understand how it works a little better.”

I feel a little flushed as I imagine what she’s suggesting; the concept of teaching her about sex is tantalising, if that’s what she wants. I swallow thickly. “That’s a good idea, Sophie. Are you sure that’s something you’d be okay with?”

She nods but she’s still shaking. I regard her skeptically. “Yes!” she insists, too fast, far too fast. “What- how do we start?”

A shock goes through me as I realise she means now. I shake my head, squeeze her hand. “Sophie,” I say. “We are not doing anything right now, and not ever if you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable. We can talk about it some other day, but there’s no rush, okay?”

She nods, eyes glistening, and then she shivers and I look at her, half in her undergarments and thoroughly soaked still, and I realise she must be freezing. I curse myself for my own thoughtlessness and I make a decision.

“I’m going to draw you a bath.” I say firmly, and as she starts to argue I put my finger to her lips and insist, “No, please, Sophie, let me.”

She acquiesces to me without question, as she always does, but this time I am determined to use this quality for good, to make her let me take care of her.

Steam fills the room as I lean over the running water, stirring in oils that make the air smell sweet. The task absorbs and revitalises me, and when I hear movement behind me I turn to see Sophie standing in the doorway clutching her arm across herself, vulnerable in a way I’ve rarely seen her. I am suddenly so struck by the image of the Sophie I first encountered, the sixteen year old girl in the woods wreathed in energy, and awe inspiring to my fourteen year old self who instantly followed her into action, but now I’m looking at that girl through the perspective of adulthood and my heart aches for her. For the teenage girl who had lost so much and taken the weight of the world upon her shoulders, who punished herself for every loss, every perceived failure, who maintained a fierce independence because she knew nothing but the unrelenting onslaught of a universe that did nothing to protect her. I wish I’d done more to care for her all these years, since she’s never hesitated to look after me. I feel that piercing shame again, thinking about how long it has taken her to tell me something so fundamental to her life, to how she sees the world. I need her to know I’m not going to take advantage of her, that I want whatever she is willing to give me, and won’t ever feel like something is missing.

“It’s almost ready. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone once it is.” I tell her softly, hoping to assuage any anxiety that I am lingering to see her get undressed.

She stares at me for a moment, and I can’t help the way my breath catches in my throat at the softness in her eyes. “You don’t have to leave.” She says, her voice barely a whisper - very unSophie - and yet she still maintains that wonderful Sophie simplicity. She pulls off what remains of her sodden clothes, and I can’t believe how mundane it feels to behold her naked body. She smiles at me and I withdraw from the side of the bath, making space for her. She holds out her hand, simply, and I take it gently and help her step into the water. She sinks down onto her knees, enveloped in the foam and steam. I am overwhelmed by that image of her younger self again, and I lean forward to cradle her face with my hand. She leans into the touch, closing her eyes for a second, and then opens them and looks up at me like she is giving me her heart for safekeeping.

“Thank you.” she says softly, and I understand without elaboration the layers below those simple words. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for loving me the way I am. Thank you for not pushing. Thank you for letting me stay.

I know that there is no point in protestation, in insisting that she doesn’t need to thank me for these most basic expectations of someone who loves you. Instead I say, “You’re welcome.”