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The first time Jean is able to put a name to the feeling she’s experiencing is when she’s fourteen and spending time with a beautiful girl.
She had known she’d liked girls since she was twelve, of course, her first puppy-crush being on the girl her age who manned the fruit stall in the heart of her city. But even before that she’d had an inkling—she and Diluc had met when they were but toddlers, their parents intending their heirs to grow up side by side as close friends and perhaps even marry in the future if they were so inclined. However, they had ended up as best friends and nothing more.
At first, she had thought it was simply that Diluc was too boyish and adventurous for her to like, that someday a different man would come along and she’d find her true love in him instead, the way princesses found their princes in the old folk tales. But then Kaeya had appeared all of a sudden, stumbling into both their lives like a lost lamb, smart and shy and studious, and she hadn’t liked him that way either. After him had been Lisa; Lisa, who was just as sharp and self-assured as Diluc, but who was also somehow so much more . It was then that she had realised the truth.
Love isn’t unfamiliar to her. She feels it everyday when she has meals with her family, had felt it strongest when she had set wonder-filled eyes on her newborn sister for the first time. She feels it whenever she tussles with her best friends in the training room and calls it a practice session. Feels it whenever she gazes at the city she’s determined to protect with her life.
But loving Lisa was something completely different. It wasn’t the explosion of uncontrollable emotion she sometimes read about in books, nor something serpentine and silent that crept up on her when she least expected it. Loving Lisa was sitting side by side with her in the library, both their bodies squished into one chair, legs tangled and heads bowed together over a single book, glancing over at the other girl and being struck with the intimate knowledge that Jean would never feel this way about another person. That Lisa meant more to her than she could ever even hope to put into words.
Loving Lisa is frightening, because it means Jean might lose her.
Now. Lisa kneels in a sprawling field of flowers, head bowed as she scours the available blossoms with intent eyes. Her dark skirt is bunched up against her thighs the way Jean’s seen Diluc and Kaeya do with their shorts, but it makes her face feel hot in a way that the boys’ hadn’t. Wildflowers gather like ghostly smoke at her knees, scattered and slight and golden, a mirage of freckled stars that trickle between her legs like a liquid Milky Way. Jean cannot help her staring, but she can’t quite bring herself to mind. Lisa is beautiful, after all, in the same way that lightning or a solar eclipse is: hopelessly impermanent yet brilliant all the same.
The dimming sunlight plays with her features like taffy, dappling her hair in stark shadows, staining her skin the colour of flame and flushing her face with a rosy blush that complements her fair complexion perfectly. Jean stands by her, sword in hand, and aimlessly watches her parse her fingers through sprigs of flowers and weeds alike, feeling unnervingly out of place despite being a Gunnhildr daughter. Lisa is beautiful beyond beauty with brains to match, and Jean is… just Jean.
She tightens her grip on the rattan basket in her arms as she slides her trusty sword back into its sheath. She had volunteered to carry it for Lisa while steadfastly ignoring her best friends’ snickers, both of them knowing about her fancy for the brunette. Inside are thick bundles of herbs that could be used for any number of purposes, be it for healing or witchcraft or alchemy: mugwort and witch hazel tucked away in the corners, lamb’s cress and myrrh in the center, small pouches containing horehound and valerian root dangling from the cloth-bound handles. But they had finished collecting herbs in the forest, and now Lisa is here, gorgeous and amidst the flowers where she belongs.
Lisa’s bent over enough that her blouse has slipped up, revealing the delicate arch of her spine and putting milky, unblemished skin on display. Her hair collapses over her shoulders in wild, unruly waves, drawing Jean’s attention to her curvy frame and the slim of her waist. Jean aches with the desire to draw her in close, to press her lips to the nape of Lisa’s neck and hold her hand the way lovers do.
Of course ever-observant Lisa seems to sense her lingering gaze after only a second, judging by the way her serene expression curves into a sly, fox-like smirk. There’s something special about the way she smiles when she’s around Jean; she smiles like she’s keeping a secret they both share, eyes hooded and lazy with satisfaction. She stretches languidly, humming in pleasure as she does, the light of the setting sun casting her in a soft golden glow. Lisa brings light with her wherever she goes, Jean thinks, without even meaning to. Art personified.
“You’re very beautiful.” The words slip out before she can stop them, and she flushes pink, rocking back on her heels in embarrassment. It isn’t as if she doesn’t know how out of her league Lisa is, someone who’s destined to thrive in the Academia in Sumeru. She had never planned on acting on her desire; it would have been enough to just be here with Lisa, admiring her from afar. Despite her fears, Lisa only laughs, her green eyes dancing with mirth.
“You flatter me too much,” she murmurs, reaching up like a worshipper would to their goddess; Jean collapses to her knees by her side, the basket landing safely in the soft grass, and lets Lisa tuck a stray curl behind her ear with affectionate fingers. Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “If I’m beautiful, you must have been carved from ivory and gold.”
“Gold?” Jean echoes thoughtfully, and a small smile flirts at Lisa’s soft pink lips.
“For your hair, of course,” Lisa says it like it’s obvious, her voice soft and warm as she threads a sky-blue cornflower through Jean’s crown of curls. Her nails are stained with dusky purples and oranges from whatever potion she’d been playing with in the early morning and the hem of her skirt has been dragged through the mud too many times over the course of today, but her eyes are bright in the fading light and Jean cannot look away. She picks another flower, smoothing dirt away from its stem with her fingers before she presses it into her own hair. “Look—we match!”
Jean smiles, shy and open. “We do.” Lisa considers her for a long moment before she leans in, planting a confident hand against the dirt by Jean’s side so she can’t wiggle away from the contact. The brunette’s breath is hot on her cheek, a sharp contrast to the cool spring breeze, and Jean quickly flusters. Oh Barbatos, she hopes her face isn’t half as red as it feels. She never quite knows how to respond to Lisa’s teasing, even after all these years. “You like girls, right?”
Oh. “Uhmm… ah, yes?”
The statement comes out sounding more like a question as she squirms in place, hesitant and unsure of where this line of questioning is heading. Lisa nods solemnly when she hears Jean’s response, soft brown curls bouncing about her sun-kissed face with the motion. Her head lolls to the side with a touch of guileless innocence, a maiden’s hushed chastity. “It’s okay to not be sure, but have you ever kissed one?”
Jean is going to combust. She almost feels faint, here where Lisa is hemming her in with her body, eye to eye and nose to nose, the sun dipping beneath the rolling horizon and their lips a hair's breadth from each other. She swallows back the sudden swell of love that hugs her ribcage and says, “No… I never got the opportunity.” Are you offering?
Lisa’s fingertips ghost over her lips when she reaches up to touch Jean’s face, brushing over her cheek in a lover’s caress before settling on her jaw. Her floral shampoo smells so sweet, her smile even sweeter when she dips her head to look up at Jean through long, feminine lashes, verdant-green eyes framed perfectly against the pale of her face. Jean bites back the urge to surge forwards and kiss her until day turns to night, until they’re so closely entwined that they’ll be together forever. “Would you like to kiss one, then?”
Jean’s teeth sink into her bottom lip. She catches Lisa’s interested eyes following the movement, curving over her mouth like she’s watching a painter at work, and smiles to herself. “Yes. Yes, I want to kiss—“ You, but before she can get the words out Lisa has already pulled her into a tender kiss, one that rings with a fierce affection and desire. It’s a whispered promise of devotion and Jean dissolves into it like honey into milk, kissing her back just as firmly to the point that they both tip over; Lisa with her back to the dirt, Jean hovering over her and between her legs. Lisa is laughing rays of gold against her lips, the sound bright with accomplishment, but all Jean can think about is that she’s here in a field of flowers with a beautiful girl, just the two of them and no one else. Jean and Lisa, here forever.
When they finally separate, Lisa’s thumb brushes over a dimple in her cheek, the touch utterly filled with fondness. “Hey, be careful! You’re crushing me,” she complains, but her eyes glimmer as she cranes her head for another kiss and Jean huffs indignantly even while she heeds Lisa’s call for more. How could she not, when they’re lying amidst daffodils and marigolds and buttercups, when Lisa’s kiss-swollen lips are all she’s craved to see for years upon years?
“See if I give you any more kisses after how ungrateful you’ve been,” she retorts cattily, reeling back to sit on her haunches as Lisa grins in victory. Her smile is wild and content and as happy as Jean feels, tiger-sharp teeth flashing up at her, and Jean thinks to herself; yes, this is everything she’s ever wanted. This is it, the crux of her being.
“Ha! Don’t be silly, my darling. You couldn’t deny me anything even if you wanted to,” she says, supremely confident as if it’s a prophecy written in stone, and Jean rolls her eyes and dips down to kiss her once more. She’s right, of course, but Jean would never admit it.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” She asks carefully as her lips wait over Lisa’s, quiet and hopeful. Lisa’s contented face is soft with happiness and joy like she’s never seen before, delighted beyond measure. Jean wants to give her this everyday. And she’s selfish enough to want Lisa with her forever. “Just the two of us?”
“Who else?” Lisa laughs brightly, looking for all the world like she’d just won the lottery, and as their mouths meet Jean smiles to herself.
Maybe loving Lisa wasn’t half as scary as she had thought it was.