'a love letter to time'

This, them.They’re a one-time thing.

That’s what Rising tells herself.

It takes only the one night for Aria to look genuinely happy to see her. Or maybe Rising’s only too single-minded and obtuse to see anything else.

There are things like fate, then there are things like the two of them.

These are things that can’t be predestined.

Lost spirits.

Broken souls.

Blazes that stopped being wildfires.

These are things that are never meant to be. Things that just are.

They are shooting stars that never fall from the sky. “Aria,” she says softly in the golden light of the forest.

Enough to move mountains and chase skies. Stars streaking across the sky like fairy lights that hang over Rising’s bed frame.

They live for, not in spite of them, of things that are not destined.

They live for time they do not have. One night. One time.

Rising takes it, this one time thing.

She stretches it as far as she sees.

There’s a clear before and after to this that is her hands all over Rising’s heart.

Being just friends is the biggest lie they’ll tell the world. The biggest lie they’ll tell each other.

-

Rising Charming does not scale towers. Rising Charming does not sneak out. Rising Charming does not put her straight and gorgeous black hair, insured by the Charming Foundation to cost at least seven thousand pounds of gold, in a ponytail.

And though she’ll say otherwise, Rising Charming does not enjoy doing these things.

She does not enjoy the ripping of the wind on her back, fluttering her hair like a cape.

She does not enjoy the thrill of tonight. She does not enjoy the idea of breaking into the faculty office for her sister’s sake.

She does not enjoy it, though her smile may say something else.

She does not. She does not. She does not.

Or at least, that’s what she tells herself.

After all, it’s a one-time thing.

A simple thing. An easy thing.

Aria Quickstep is not.

It is an accident that they meet. A stumble of two paths that lead to trouble. Renegade’s carefully drafted plan is gone. There will be an apology for her sister in the morning.

A one-time thing, Rising tells herself.

The Enchanted Forest is at its darkest. It is Aria who gives it light.

“I like to go out and see the stars,” Aria says. “I know this place in the forest with the best sky view. I promise you’d love it.”

There are no stars. Only firefly wings from trees that Aria leaves behind. There are no stars but her.

“I don’t like going out at all,” Rising says. “Especially at this hour.”

The dancing princess knows that she is lying. “Well, what do you call this?”

“A one-time thing.”

Aria Quickstep is not a one-time thing.

--

Rising Charming does not enjoy scaling towers, or sneaking out.

She enjoys Aria.

She enjoys enough to scale towers and sneak out.

They talk always under firefly stars, trading stories through smiles and hands.

They’re the center of the universe. But they can’t be, not in this marbled dance hall, under Aria’s stars and the real.

“I like your freckles.” Rising dots Aria’s face with her finger. They smile, too broad that Rising can't count.

Every night is another of Renegade’s plans though Rene knows nothing about them. Every night is Rising forcing her path to stumble into Aria’s trouble.

Rising becomes hopeful then. She shares her secrets to Aria in exchange for truth and goodness. One day she can stand to her mother like Aria does hers.

They dance slowly in the night, and laugh themselves silly.

They trip a little too hard into love, and onto the marble floor, though it’s only Aria dragging Rise down with her.

Rising dances better. That much is clear.

They dance to cricket chirps and silent smiles until Aria finally falls. The sun rises all the while.

She leaves before it finally does. “Is it a boy?” Renegade asks in the morning, stitching a dress together.

Rising laughs. “No. Of course it isn’t a boy.”

Little sister Renegade isn’t the best person to be discussing this matter. The intimate matters of Rising’s private life should not be discussed with a fresh fifteen year old reformed criminal.

“What is it then?”

Rising looks at the fabric in Rene’s hands. Peach pink, like Aria’s eyes.

She meets her blue with her sister’s.

“It’s only a one-time thing.”