You're lying next to your sister, on the roof of the apartment the two of you share. You haven't lived there long. Weeks? Months? They passed in a blur. New city, new home, new faces — everything is so different here.
You fled your parents' home in the dead of night and never looked back. You took only your most cherished belongings, and the rest you left behind. Spent a week with a friend you met online while you both searched for work and a place of your own. Foxglove was lucky to find a gig as a cook at a local restaurant, and the owner even offered to rent out the top floor for next to nothing after Foxglove explained your situation to her.
You're still looking, but in the mean time you tend a small garden on the rooftop.
It hasn't sunk in yet, but you're both finally free.
You hear [[your sister's voice]], soft and quiet.You shudder.
She doesn't sound like this often. It's a voice she saves for you.
It really gets to you.
"Naffie?" When she says your name, she sounds almost pleading. "It's gettin cold. Wanna turn in? Snuggle up on the couch?"
On the outside, you're eager; on the inside, a part of you is still terrified of being caught. Your parents are far away now, but the fear is still fresh. You swallow it. No one here knows — and even if they did, why should they care?
You agree, and you do, and you'd love to.
The two of you [[head inside]].The way down is a little daunting at first, especially in the half-light of dusk, but your hooves give you sure footing on the smallest of footholds and your clawed paws give you an edge when it comes to grabbing on and pulling yourself to safety. Heights are scary, but climbing is in your blood.
You slide down the angled drainpipe and take a running leap for the balcony, bounding gracefully over the railing before tumbling ass over end into the safety of your third floor window.
Foxy laughs, then spills ass just like you did.
You both cackle like wild animals. What a couple of dumbasses. You are //definitely// sisters.
[[You love her.->more about foxy]]She's taller than you. Tough and toned, too. You're the same age, but she seems older somehow. You've always been the "little" sister. You like that.
You watch as she pushes off the floor and leaps to her hooves. She offers her hand. Without a second thought, you take it. She pulls you into a kiss. Your heart leaps. Your paws find her ass. You won't make it to the couch.
"Buy me dinner first??" she gasps in mock surprise at your audacity.
//She's// the cook, you tell her, but she's welcome to take what she finds in your garden. And not the one on the roof, you don't clarify.
She shoves you away with a shit headed grin. Tilts her head back cockily, throws a //bring it, bitch// your way. //Hmph//. You [[take the bait->tackle her]] and lunge.You slam right into her, and the two of you tumble to the floor again. You wrestle with Foxglove, kicking and biting and giggling like fools in a violent bid for leverage. She's strong, but you're a tenacious little bitch, and pretty soon it's clear there's no breaking this deadlock.
So you decide to fight dirty. Steal her signature hat. She loves that damn thing.
She smacks your ass and of course you squeal. You both count yourselves lucky that your landlord downstairs isn't home.
But you [[you still have her hat]].She leans into it, and you kinda get lost in each other for a while. Your greedy little paws explore any territory they can reach until, finally, you give up and just sink into her arms. She squeezes you tight against her chest, and as you breathe in her familiar scent, you feel at home.
//This is home.//
When you finally come up for air, her tank top is lying on the floor two feet away, and you're halfway out of your dress. It doesn't take much effort to go the rest of the way. Your dress comes off, and so do her shorts. You look each other up and down, grinning like a couple of jackasses.
You nuzzle between her breasts and peer up at her.
She drapes her arms around you again, pulling your whole body close.
Tonight, you're gonna [[make your parents cry]].You're lying naked in your sister's arms, on the floor of the apartment the two of you share. You haven't lived here long, but it's home. Everything is changing so fast, it's dizzying.
The two of you left your parents behind without a word. You left a recording — a song you wrote — addressed to your father, if he even thought to look. Foxglove didn't leave so much as a note. Said a "fuck you" was more than they deserved. She didn't try to stop you, though.
Sometimes you feel like you're still running. Part of you doesn't believe you'll ever really recover from the abuse you suffered growing up, but...
It's starting to sink in, finally, that the two of you are free.
And you've got each other.# Introduction
I wrote this story between midnight & 04:00 one night in March (2019, for those of you reading this from the future). It was written on a whim, for a specific audience. It's a story about our florasonas, and it contains a lot of my feelings, despite being told from her perspective. For something with no planning and very little editing, I'm pretty proud of it.
I didn't write it with the intent of sharing it with anyone else, but here I am. It's not for everyone, but I hope that it will resonate with someone. There's just one more thing I need to get out of the way before I can share it with you.
## Content Warnings
First & foremost, this is not a story for kids. If you're under 18, get outta here.
However, it may not be for many adults either. There are some things that may be triggering, or squicky, or simply in poor taste.
What this story ''does not'' contain:
* Rock music
What this story ''does'' contain:
* Naughty language
* Indie music (implied)
* Vague mention of child abuse
* Incestuous romance between consenting adults
If you're ok with all that, then [[go ahead->the rooftop]].Not for long.
She snatches it back, only to put it on //your// head — and immediately pull it down over your eyes. It kinda smells like her, or at least, like her sweat. It'd be gross if it wasn't kinda hot.
You push the brim up just enough to catch her gazing at you, smiling.
"It looks stupid on you," she teases softly. It doesn't and she knows it.
That's because it //is// stupid, you tell her, punctuating it with an indignant raspberry. It's not, but you like seeing her without it for a change.
This time, [[you're the one who kisses her->kiss her]].