The sound of the rush of running water reverberates throughout the small studio apartment. It's 9:45 pm, a quiet evening in Melbourne, just like all the other evenings before it and all the other evenings coming after.

Rosie hears footsteps in the hall, outside of their apartment. The blonde girl is in her signature look when she's lazing around at home - gray Burberry sweatpants and a nondescript white crop top. She's leaning over the sink, just finishing washing the pan she used to cook dinner with, wearing her favorite baby pink apron while humming and swaying her hips along to Billie Eilish's “Bad Guy” as it plays from the small speakers that her phone is connected to.

It was a newly released song that she's taken quite a liking to.

She finishes washing and drying the last dish and wipes her hands on her apron. She closes the faucet, its tinny creaking sound interrupting the soft music she has playing in the background.

With the loud sound of the faucet gone, she hears keys jangle from outside the door, followed by a clang and a quiet, “”.

Rosie laughs. She’d know those footsteps anywhere, know the strut, know the sometimes clumsy hands that struggled to put the keys in when they were holding a lot of other things - camera equipment usually, sometimes take-out of her food from her favorite restaurants.

Rosie would know. They’ve lived together for seven long and happy years after all.

She decides to give the person at the other side a hand, going to the front door and opening it. She’s greeted with surprised doe eyes behind spectacles with metal frames, blonde hair tucked underneath a baseball cap, and arms gone octopus trying to carry two tripods, three camera bags, and two lense bags.

Oh, and flowers. A huge bouquet of the most beautiful arrangement of pink carnations, purple peonies, japanese privets, punctuated with a few huge long-stemmed pinkish red roses.

It takes Rosie's breath away.

The flowers are new. She was never greeted with flowers before. The ordinary late night in Melbourne gets a twist.

“Aw, Lisa! Are these for me?” Rosie's eyes are wide in awe, her voice thick with an Australian accent.

Lisa snaps out of whatever stupor she was in.

“Yeah!”

The photographer answers quickly, her own voice tinged with Aussie, but the Thai is still there, still audible.

Rosie asked her to never lose the accent, never lose that part of where she came from. Lisa smiled then, because she's only been living and studying in Melbourne then for a year and she was frustrated that she still spoke “like a foreigner”. Rosie, her roommate turned best friend basically told her that everyone else can screw themselves and Lisa should speak however she wants and should never feel insecure about her roots.

Lisa laughs, handing Rosie the bouquet. Rosie's little eyes turn into crescent moons as she smiles with the warmth of the sun. Lisa smiles back at her, close-lipped and dopey and adorable. Rosie giggles and puts the flowers close to her face, closing her eyes and smelling them. Lisa feels herself melt as she watches her best friend savor the scent of and enjoy the sight of fresh flowers.

They stand there for a moment, stuck in a wordless exchange of appreciation and adoration that Lisa completely forgets about everything she's carrying and everything slung over her shoulder. The ten pieces of equipment she was hugging to herself all fall in crashes and thuds on the floor around her.

Both photographer and painter jump in surprise, both putting hands over their hearts, becoming complete reflections of each other. They didn't earn the nickname “twins” for nothing. Years of living together and barely spending any waking moment apart makes any duo adapt each other's habits and mannerisms.

Rosie and Lisa look at each other then as if tickled by an invisible feather at the same time, burst out into loud laughter.

“I'm so sorry,” Lisa says, shaking her head.  “Ah, I'm so out of it! I've been to three different locations since 5 am.”

Rosie looks at her best friend in worry and quickly bends down to help her pick up the equipment that fell on the floor - a monopod, a tripod, a bag of extra camera batteries and a charger. Lisa follows suit checking the bag of lenses and adapters to make sure that none are broken. It was a small fall but Lisa still exhaled relief when she saw that they're all still in one piece. They had everything off the floor and properly into bags in no time, standing up right.

Lisa smiles in thanks. Rosie's eyes twinkle.

“Well, good thing I cooked one of your favorites tonight, then--”

Lisa's eyes go wide immediately and she doesn't even let her bestfriend finish whatever she was going to say.

“Is it meat?!”

It's as if all the exhaustion melted away from the photographer's face at the prospect of eating her favorite dish. Rosie laughs at her best friend's predictability but shakes her head.

“No.”

Lisa pouts. Rosie continues.

“But, I did cook honey garlic salmon and rice.”

The smile is back on Lisa's face and it is brighter by a million megawatts.

“Oh my gaaaad, you did?”

The warmth in Rosie's chest overflows. There are few things in the world that she can say are worth all the effort and hardwork - art, music, and making her best friend happy.

“Yes, I did.” Rosie nods. “Let's go in so you can get changed and we can eat, yeah?”

Lisa nods and smiles.

“Okay.”

Suddenly, the early morning start, the obnoxiou client, the dumb models - every bad thing she endured today in the pursuit of her dreams - is worth it.

All thanks to her best friend.

------

Laughter echoes throughout the small studio apartment. It's 10:45 pm, a quiet evening in Melbourne and it seems like this one isn't going to be like all the other evenings before it or after.

Lisa holds the nearly empty glass of Rosé wine (Rosé for Rosie, she would say) in her hand carelessly, the liquid swishing and sloshing without threat of spilling. The photographer is resting her chin on the palm of her other hand, elbow resting on the table. She's staring at her best friend Rosie sitting across her over now empty plates and used utensils - beautiful and intoxicated and a little bit more carefree.

Inspiration strikes the photographer. She grabs her phone.

“Rosie, don't move.” She hold her phone up, waiting for the lens to focus and adjusting her angle. “Stay still.”

Her best friend complies, looking straight into the lens of the phone camera right at Lisa. The photographer's breath hitches.

Perfect.

She wastes no time and snaps one, two, three, four photos until Rosie bursts out into laughter, covering with a hand.

“Are you taking a video of me? Why are you taking so long!”

Lisa chuckles, not letting up on the shutter button, still. Candid after candid of her favorite person laughing slowly filling up her phone's memory.

“No, I'm still taking pictures.” Lisa says in a low voice, focus on capturing her muse not wavering.If she could record every moment with her best friend, she would. “You look so beautiful right now.”

Rosie blushes hard. She was already red from the wine but Lisa's words sends her blood rushing to her face and tingly sensations all over her body.

She has no idea what's been going on with Lisa lately. The other woman has been noticeably touchier and more affectionate and had also been showering her with compliments.

Rosie smiles and looks down, shyly tucking her hair behind one ear.

Lisa watches the change in expression on her best friend's face brought about by what she said. She feels her heart wilding in her chest, threatening to burst.

Damn.

Rosie snaps back up, hair flying as if with a life of its own, remembering something.

“Oh, I meant to ask you something.” The painter leans closer, torso against the edge of their dining table.

“Hmm?” Lisa quirks an eyebrow in question, putting her wine glass to her lips to finish the little bit of wine left.

“What’s with the flowers? You've never gotten me flowers before.”

Lisa sips the wine too quick and it goes straight down . She sputters and chokes, hitting her chest in an attempt to relieve herself. Rosie is by her side immediately, rubbing soothing circles on her back. She stops coughing eventually, eyes red and throat raw.

“Are you okay?” Rosie asks in concern.

“Y-yeah.” Lisa's voice is hoarse but she nods to assure her friend she's fine. “I'm okay.”

“Okay.”

Lisa expected her best friend to sit back in the chair across from her but instead Rosie pulls the chair around and places it beside Lisa's and sits down on it. Lisa watches her and gulps.

Uh-oh.

Rosie looks straight into Lisa's eyes and waits for an answer. Lisa's mind goes back to the question.

Why did she buy Rosie flowers?

She felt like it? She saw them on her way home and thought they were pretty and that they reminded her of Rosie?

Or should she say the real truth behind it?

Rosie, I might be in love with you and I might have been in love with you all these years and I only realized it now.

Lisa feels her palms sweating. Anxiety crackles under her skin and panic sits heavy on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe.

“I, uh,” Lisa starts, but opens and closes like a fish's. She instinctively goes on the defensive, not knowing what else to say. “Don't you like them?”

Rosie shakes her head 'no’.

“Oh, Lisa, I love them. I have no words for how happy you made me.” She glances at the flowers that are now in a vase on the side of her bed before turning back at the photographer with pink-tinged cheeks and a soft smile. “I love them. Thank you. I was just wondering what prompted you to get them.”

“Uh, well,” Lisa doesn't know if it's the alcohol, or the meal that Rosie made just for her, or the way Rosie is smiling up at her, looking at her through eyelashes, as if beckoning her to just come on out and say it, but something nudges her towards.

Or shoves. Either way, she tells Rosie the truth, at the risk of ruining their friendship. Because Lisa can't hold her feelings in for the painter any longer - it was daily torture.

“I'm in love with you.”

Lisa blurts it out just like that, the most unromantic confession ever. Rosie just stares at her with a blank expression and she starts panicking.

Unknown to her, Rosie's brain short-circuited the moment the words came out of Lisa's mouth.

Lisa wishes for herself to drop dead for any reason. But she's already put her foot in and there's no turning back. She scrambles to say anything, anything to fix the deafening awkward silence that has now settled over them.

“Uh, uh, I mean,” Lisa scratches her head then clears . “I mean, I like you as more than a friend, Rosie.” Lisa looks up and tries to hold her friend’s gaze.

“I've had these… feelings for you for I don't know how long, now, and I just couldn't,” Lisa looks down, feeling tears threaten to spill. She grips her knees to steady herself and she exhales a breath. “I couldn't keep them in anymore… That's why I bought you flowers - to give them to you before I confess. I just chickened out earlier and forgot about it after we started dinner and we started talking and laughing like we always do.”

Lisa sniffles, daring to look up and see what her best friend's reaction is.

Rosie is still staring at her but now slack-jawed with shock written all over her face.

“Rosie? Say something, please.” Lisa tries her best to keep her face from crumpling up and does her best to keep herself from breaking down.

What was she thinking? A rejection would kill her.

Lisa feels like she’s about to puke. She stands up from the chair on wobbly legs. She props herself up over the sink, leaning over it.

Rosie is still frozen like a statue, jaw on the floor, back  over at the dining table.

Lisa washes her face with cold water.

What do I do now? What do I say now?

The emotions bubble up in Lisa’s throat - fear, sadness, anxiety, and unadulterated pain.

, , , , . Way to go, Manoban, way to go.

The photographer sees everything play out in her mind - her best friend slips away from her, or her best friend tries to let her down gently, or her best friend just ghosts her in the middle of the night, later, without goodbye. All because she ed their friendship up. And for what? The stupid hope that her best friend felt the same way about her because she cooked her salmon? She didn’t even know whether her best friend was straight or not! If she wasn’t straight, she would have brought it up, oh, I don’t know, sometime in the last seven ing years!

ing idiot.

Lisa thinks she’s lost everything, or that she’s about to. She’s angry at herself but they’re here and she can’t turn the clock back. Would she regret it more if she didn’t say what she had to say?

. She would.

So the photographer chooses to just take this head on and bulldoze it, against better judgement. What else is there to lose right?

“Rosie, I,”

Lisa starts, then decides to turn around so she and Rosie are speaking face to face, only to be spooked out of her mind to see that Rosie stood up from her seat and is now only arms-length away from her.

“Go on.” Rosie says, voice above whisper.

Lisa’s nerves shoot up to the sky, suddenly a million times more nervous. But with the last shred of willpower she has, she pushes herself to say her piece.

It is now or never, after all.

She stares her best friend straight into the eyes, letting the other girl see right into her and through her, telling the other girl without words, ‘this is real, this is true’.

“Rosie, I love you.” Lisa exhales a shaky breath. “I may have loved you from the moment I met you or from the time you helped me speak better english or from the time you encouraged me to keep my Thai accent. I may have only truly loved you when you accepted me after I came out to you or when you took me as your plus one to your first gallery opening or maybe even just last week when you became my photographer’s assistant for a day -- okay, I’m rambling. Sheesh.”

Lisa shakes her head and looks down. Rosie puts a hand under her best friend’s chin.

“No, go on. I want to hear it.”

Lisa feels tears at the corner of her eyes and nods okay. She exhales another shaky breath, this time to keep the water works at bay.

“Okay, my point is…” Lisa wrings her hands. “I can’t say when or why or even how. I just know that right now, my truth is that I’m in love with you. I’m in love with my best friend and roommate for seven years. You are my inspiration, you are my muse…” Lisa smiles, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “And you’ve always been my favorite person.” She laughs.

“I guess what I’m getting at is that I can’t hide this anymore - I can’t not tell you.”

Rosie watched her patiently, waited for her to finish saying what she had to say. The painters eyes followed Lisa’s lips as it moved then looked back up and held her best friend’s gaze. She soaked up every single word and every bit of honesty that came with it.

But Rosie wears her poker face still and Lisa doesn’t know what to expect. But finally, she speaks.

“Lisa,” Rosie starts. “Lisa, I love you, too.”

Lisa feels the earth come to a complete halt.

“What?”

“I love you, too. I don’t know how long either but I know that I love you. Romantically. I love you as more than a best friend.”

“O-okay.”

They hold each other’s gaze, uncertainty reflecting uncertainty. Rosie opens to ask a question.

“Okay, so what now?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’? You confessed!”

“Yeah! But I didn’t think this far.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They both pause for a beat, then burst out in cackles and laughter.

“Oh… my…” Lisa wheezes. “What the is that?”

Rosie shakes her head, lungs hurting from the lack of air.

“I don’t know!”

They laugh and laugh for a good solid five minutes, leaning against each other and slapping their thighs in amusement.

That must have been the dumbest confession of love in history. But maybe it’s fitting for the two biggest es who’ve been in love for each other and living together and not having a clue as to the other’s feelings.

The laughter dies down and they both catch their breath. Somehow, through the bouts of crazy giggles, Lisa ended up being pinned against the sink with Rosie’s hands keeping her still on each side and Rosie’s chin against her shoulder.

Lisa’s heart races at the realization of their proximity. Rosie’s breath hitches.

They both turn to face each other at the same time - noses inches apart, breaths mingling, and eyes shifting to each other’s lips.

It’s difficult to tell who leaned in first to close the gap. It could have been Lisa who was ecstatic over finding out that her best friend loved her, too, after mustering up the courage to confess, or it could have been Rosie who was just waiting for any sign that Lisa saw her as more than a friend.

But lips meet lips and a ripple of static goes through both of them. Sparks fly, fireworks go off, trumpets sound - there is a revolution inside their heads and hearts. They pull each other closer and press their lips harder against each other, and next thing they new, they were sharing open mouthed kisses and heavy breaths, then tongues clash and it’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before, not with anyone.

Suddenly, all the movies and romance novels and love songs lose their meanings. Suddenly, the world outside doesn’t exist. Suddenly, Lisa is just Lisa and Rosie is just Rosie and the whole world is compressed into the space occupied by both their bodies pressed against each other. Suddenly, time is measured by the breaths they take and the kisses and touches they share.

Lisa thinks, this is what love is, this is what love tastes like.

It’s ing amazing.

And Rosie would have to agree.

----

Epilogue:

Rosie feels the sun’s rays warm her eyelids and she groans. It’s too early and she still wants to sleep. But she feels the bed dip and suddenly there’s a familiar weight on top of her.

“Good morning, y,” comes Lisa’s husky voice.

Rosie giggles.

“Good morning to you, too.”

She feels light kisses along the side of her jaw and she hums in pleasure. The kisses travel to the side of , to her cheek, and she smiles. Suddenly, she a kiss pressed against her lips but before she could kiss back, she feels teeth nip at her lower lip. She gasps and she hears Lisa chuckle.

“Keep your eyes closed, baby.”

She smiles. Months later and the way Lisa says “baby” has her melting into a puddle.

“Mmmmkay.”

The kisses trail down her neck and she feels them get a little heavier and linger against her skin a little longer. Then she feels a tongue trail up slowly from the dip of her collarbone to and she gasps.

Lisa chuckles and the vibrations tickle her neck. She giggles. She feels Lisa smile against her.

“I love you.”

Rosie opens her eyes and sees the face of her soulmate, best friend, and the love of her life.

“I love you, too.”