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Friday 21 August 2026 13:33:38 GMT

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χatitza :

beyond platonic

2026-08-21 13:39:08

𓍼 :

my parents

2026-08-21 14:07:42

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2026-08-21 14:22:39

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$The call connected at 11:47 PM. Laine was at her kitchen table, glasses pushed up on her head, a half-finished mug of tea going cold beside her. She answered before the second ring because she always did. Natalia’s face filled the screen. No makeup, oversized shirt, hair loose. She looked soft and tired and immediately, visibly happier the moment Laine appeared. “Hi,” Laine said. “Hi.” Natalia pulled her knees to her chest. “I’ve been waiting to call you since seven.” “Then why didn’t you call at seven?” “I wanted to have something to tell you first.” Laine raised an eyebrow. “That’s new. You usually call to tell me nothing for two hours.” “I do not—” Natalia paused. “Okay. Sometimes. But tonight I have actual news.” “I’m listening.” Natalia bit her lip, and Laine recognized the expression — the one that meant she’d already done the thing and was only now asking permission. “The fansign,” Natalia said. “Next Saturday.” “What about it?” “I got you in.” Silence. “You got me into your fansign,” Laine said slowly. “Front section. Good spot.” Natalia tucked her chin on her knees. “My manager thinks it’s for a friend of a cousin.” “Is that what I am.” “You’re my favorite person. The cousin thing is just paperwork.” “Natalia.” “Yes?” “You planned this before you told me.” “I prefer to think of it as being efficient.” “You’re unbelievable.” “You love it.” Laine looked at her through the screen — this ridiculous, thoughtful, impossible person — and felt something so full it had no good name. “Video calls really aren’t enough for you, are they,” she said quietly. Natalia’s expression went soft. Honest. “I just want to see you. Same room. Same air.” A pause. “Is that okay?” “Yeah, Nat.” Laine smiled. “That’s okay.” Natalia’s mouth curved — the real smile, the one she didn’t perform for anyone. “Wear something nice.” “I always look nice.” “I know,” she said. “That’s the problem.” — The venue was smaller and warmer than Laine expected, intimate and almost pressurized. Fans filled every tight row, holding magazines like treasures. Laine looked down at hers. Natalia’s face stared up from the cover—completely present yet completely unreachable. Laine had stared at this face on her phone for months; it was startling to see it printed and belonging to the world. “First time?” the girl beside her asked, leaning over. “That obvious?” “You’re actually reading the magazine,” she smiled. “I’m Cora.” “Laine.” “Nervous?” “A little,” Laine said—true, but for reasons she could never explain to Cora. — The Q&A came first. Natalia walked out and the room tilted toward her. She sat, smiled, said “Hi, everyone,” and the room came apart. Laine clapped. Quietly. The questions flowed easily — her most difficult role, her process before a shoot, which co-star made her laugh hardest on set. Natalia answered with that particular warmth she had in these settings, unhurried and deliberate, making a room full of strangers feel like people she’d been waiting for. Then the fan beside Laine shifted in his seat. “You’re not taking notes,” he said pleasantly. “I’m not a notes person.” Laine doesn't really need the notes since she already knows Natalia better than anyone. “Fair.” He leaned slightly closer. “She’s more beautiful in person, right? Doesn’t even translate on screen.” “It really doesn’t,” Laine agreed, with complete and private sincerity. He smiled. “You come alone?” “I did.” “Me too. Maybe after this—” Onstage, Natalia was mid-answer when her eyes moved across the room between thoughts — and stopped. Third row. The man beside Laine. The elbow on the armrest, the lean, the angle of him. Something shifted behind her eyes. Brief and quiet and absolute. Not anger — something that didn’t need to be anger because it was already more certain than that. Her chin lifted by a fraction, and then she was back, finishing her sentence without a stumble, warm and composed and giving nothing away. ——— continuation in the comments!!🩵 #lenamiu #au #lalinalena #miunatsha #oneshot$
The call connected at 11:47 PM. Laine was at her kitchen table, glasses pushed up on her head, a half-finished mug of tea going cold beside her. She answered before the second ring because she always did. Natalia’s face filled the screen. No makeup, oversized shirt, hair loose. She looked soft and tired and immediately, visibly happier the moment Laine appeared. “Hi,” Laine said. “Hi.” Natalia pulled her knees to her chest. “I’ve been waiting to call you since seven.” “Then why didn’t you call at seven?” “I wanted to have something to tell you first.” Laine raised an eyebrow. “That’s new. You usually call to tell me nothing for two hours.” “I do not—” Natalia paused. “Okay. Sometimes. But tonight I have actual news.” “I’m listening.” Natalia bit her lip, and Laine recognized the expression — the one that meant she’d already done the thing and was only now asking permission. “The fansign,” Natalia said. “Next Saturday.” “What about it?” “I got you in.” Silence. “You got me into your fansign,” Laine said slowly. “Front section. Good spot.” Natalia tucked her chin on her knees. “My manager thinks it’s for a friend of a cousin.” “Is that what I am.” “You’re my favorite person. The cousin thing is just paperwork.” “Natalia.” “Yes?” “You planned this before you told me.” “I prefer to think of it as being efficient.” “You’re unbelievable.” “You love it.” Laine looked at her through the screen — this ridiculous, thoughtful, impossible person — and felt something so full it had no good name. “Video calls really aren’t enough for you, are they,” she said quietly. Natalia’s expression went soft. Honest. “I just want to see you. Same room. Same air.” A pause. “Is that okay?” “Yeah, Nat.” Laine smiled. “That’s okay.” Natalia’s mouth curved — the real smile, the one she didn’t perform for anyone. “Wear something nice.” “I always look nice.” “I know,” she said. “That’s the problem.” — The venue was smaller and warmer than Laine expected, intimate and almost pressurized. Fans filled every tight row, holding magazines like treasures. Laine looked down at hers. Natalia’s face stared up from the cover—completely present yet completely unreachable. Laine had stared at this face on her phone for months; it was startling to see it printed and belonging to the world. “First time?” the girl beside her asked, leaning over. “That obvious?” “You’re actually reading the magazine,” she smiled. “I’m Cora.” “Laine.” “Nervous?” “A little,” Laine said—true, but for reasons she could never explain to Cora. — The Q&A came first. Natalia walked out and the room tilted toward her. She sat, smiled, said “Hi, everyone,” and the room came apart. Laine clapped. Quietly. The questions flowed easily — her most difficult role, her process before a shoot, which co-star made her laugh hardest on set. Natalia answered with that particular warmth she had in these settings, unhurried and deliberate, making a room full of strangers feel like people she’d been waiting for. Then the fan beside Laine shifted in his seat. “You’re not taking notes,” he said pleasantly. “I’m not a notes person.” Laine doesn't really need the notes since she already knows Natalia better than anyone. “Fair.” He leaned slightly closer. “She’s more beautiful in person, right? Doesn’t even translate on screen.” “It really doesn’t,” Laine agreed, with complete and private sincerity. He smiled. “You come alone?” “I did.” “Me too. Maybe after this—” Onstage, Natalia was mid-answer when her eyes moved across the room between thoughts — and stopped. Third row. The man beside Laine. The elbow on the armrest, the lean, the angle of him. Something shifted behind her eyes. Brief and quiet and absolute. Not anger — something that didn’t need to be anger because it was already more certain than that. Her chin lifted by a fraction, and then she was back, finishing her sentence without a stumble, warm and composed and giving nothing away. ——— continuation in the comments!!🩵 #lenamiu #au #lalinalena #miunatsha #oneshot

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Friday 21 August 2026 13:33:38 GMT

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χatitza :

beyond platonic

𓍼 :

my parents

manu eliana ❤️ :

🥰

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