wefellanyway

[wefellanyway]

Some Hearts Don’t Beat Right — Chapter 2

The Space Between Us-

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Days passed like half-dreams. We barely spoke at school, but every night we met online— she in her world, I in mine. Then came the picnic—a chance to close the distance. But tenderness can break as easily as rope bridges.

Some hearts don’t beat right. But they still beat anyway.

(Original sapphic romance | WLW | cursed love | emotional damage)

#wlw #sapphicwriting #queerfiction #originalromance #lovecursed #writingblr

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📖 Chapter 2: The Space Between Us

Days passed like half-dreams. Whispers of normal life surrounded them—bells ringing, pens scratching, the hum of classrooms.

But Sofie and Mary… barely spoke.

They still exchanged soft hellos at the corridor corner or during attendance. A nod. A look. Nothing more.

But every night—every single night—Sofie would wait for her.

On Twitter, in that weird little bubble of online friends and comfort zones and usernames that didn’t judge. They’d both made mutuals from different countries. They laughed about memes, liked each other’s silly rants. And somehow, that screen gave them permission to be close again.

Sofie never missed the chance to talk. She dragged conversations as long as she could.

Even when Mary gave short replies. Even when it was clear the connection was thinning.

Because online Mary still felt a little like her Mary. And Sofie? She was starving for scraps.

The days blurred—school, scrolling, pretending. Until the picnic.

Sofie had been waiting for it. Not because she loved picnics. Not because she liked loud buses or muddy fields or awkward teachers with clipboards.

She waited because maybe, just maybe, that day would bring her closer to Mary.

Even if they weren’t in the same section. Even if they weren’t sitting on the same bus.

Sofie tried not to feel disappointed when the list came out. Mary was assigned to Bus A. Sofie and Elle were on Bus C.

Still, she showed up early. Her hair tied in its usual ponytail. Bag packed. Face pretending.

Elle plopped down beside her with a packet of gum and dramatic sunglasses. “This bus smells like anxiety and government soap.”

Sofie laughed a little. It didn’t reach her eyes.

The ride started. People screamed songs, played dumb games, leaned out the windows to yell at cows. Elle got pulled into a debate about BTS vs One Direction.

Sofie sat quietly by the window. The breeze tangled her hair. Her mind tangled itself with memories.

She thought about Mary’s laugh—the real one. The one that came when she forgot to be polite.

She thought about the way she used to rest her head on Mary’s shoulder on school trips. How Mary’s voice had always made her feel like she was floating.

And now?

Now she wasn’t even in the same bus.

Sofie didn’t sing. Didn’t shout. Just stared out the window and watched trees pass like ghosts.

She wondered if Mary was smiling. If she’d already forgotten what it used to feel like—when things were soft and simple and close.

The buses stopped.

Children poured out like spilled glitter—laughing, shoving, kicking dust. Teachers tried to organize them into lines.

Sofie followed the crowd silently, brushing her fingers against the hem of her shirt, nerves buzzing.

They were at the venue now. A wide field stretched around them, dotted with shady trees and broken benches. Somewhere far off, she could hear a whistle blow and kids cheering.

Elle grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go before we’re assigned to the football team and die.”

But Sofie didn’t move.

Her eyes were scanning the crowd.

Her gaze flicked past jackets and ponytails and laughing faces—

Until they landed on her.

Mary.

Hair braided, as always. Her back turned. Surrounded by her friends. Laughing.

Of course she was laughing.

Of course she looked beautiful.

And of course, she didn’t know that Sofie had just spent the whole bus ride imagining resting her head on her shoulder and asking, Do you still think of me?

Sofie didn’t end up spending the picnic with Elle after all. She wandered off to sit with a few girls from Section H—classmates she barely talked to, but today she just needed noise to drown out her own head.

They sat on a faded old carpet under a tree. The sun flickered through the leaves like lazy fireflies, and someone turned on a Bluetooth speaker with low, fuzzy music. They played guessing games. Truth or Dare. Someone brought out Lays chips and broken Monopoly cards.

Sofie tried to lose herself in it. Tried to laugh at the jokes. Tried not to notice that Mary was somewhere else, laughing at something else.

And for a while—just a little while—it almost worked.

Until—

“Hey, excuse me… can we sit here?”

A voice broke through the circle. Sofie turned.

It was one of Mary’s friends. Behind her, quiet and still, was Mary herself—holding her bottle of water, braid draped over one shoulder, eyes flicking downward.

“We forgot our carpet,” the friend said. “And, like, maybe we could enjoy the picnic together?”

Sofie blinked. Her throat went dry.

“Y-yeah. Of course,” she stammered. “Yeah, totally.”

Her friends quickly shuffled over, creating space. A second later, Mary sat down.

Next to her.

And for Sofie—the whole world exploded in slow motion.

They played more games. Someone brought out a card trick. They dared each other to eat ketchup packets. They explored a corner of the venue with rusted swings and uneven paths. The sky turned softer, yellower, as afternoon crawled toward golden hour.

Sofie stayed beside Mary. Close. So close.

They wandered near a pool lined with cracked tiles and still water, just the two of them for a moment.

“I’m glad you joined,” Sofie said softly, kicking a pebble near her shoe.

Mary smiled—quiet, reserved. “Me too.”

Sofie’s chest tightened.

It was just them now.

The water was still. The sunlight painted moving patterns across the blue tiles. And Mary stood at the edge of it, quiet, thoughtful.

Sofie looked at her. Really looked.

And something inside her stopped.

Mary stood in the golden light like a secret the world didn’t deserve. Her braid was loose now, strands slipping out and dancing in the breeze. Her eyes were far away, soft, glassy, like she was watching stars fall into water. One foot was slightly ahead of the other, like she was about to walk into the sky.

Sofie wanted to freeze the moment.

She wanted to say: You don’t know what you do to me.

There was something holy in the way Mary just existed—so unaware of her own softness, so heartbreakingly distant, even when she was right there.

Sofie’s fingers ached to reach out. But instead, she held them still.

Her voice was a whisper. “Are you hungry?”

Mary turned, her expression snapping into focus. “Yeah… kinda.”

Sofie smiled. “I’ll get you something.”

But as she walked away, Coke and pizza in hand, Sofie’s thoughts burned:

She doesn’t even know. She looks like a poem no one’s allowed to read. And me? I don’t know how to love her. But I want to so badly it hurts.

She turned and ran. Ran like it mattered. Like she was getting something for the girl she loved, not just a classmate.

She found the food cart. Bought a slice of pizza, a cold Coke. She carried them back like offerings—her heart too full, her head already writing poems about Mary’s smile.

But when she came back—

Mary wasn’t there.

The spot near the pool was empty.

Across the yard, she spotted her—back with her other friends. Laughing. Leaning against Mina’s shoulder. As if the moment between them hadn’t happened at all.

Sofie stood frozen.

Pizza in hand. Coke dripping condensation. Heart turning numb.

She didn’t know what made her do it.

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the hurt.

Or maybe it was the stupid thought that she would never own Mary. Never truly.

She walked away. Past the benches. Past the food stalls. Past the noise.

To the farthest edge of the venue—where the high swings and rope bridges stood. A small “adventure corner” made for students brave enough to climb.

No teachers around. No helmets. Just adrenaline.

Sofie stepped onto the ropes.

Her hands gripped the edge of a high metal bridge—swaying, unstable, woven from netting and wood.

She didn’t pause. She just climbed.

She didn’t know what she was trying to prove. To Mary. To herself.

She just knew it hurt. And she was tired of being scared.

But others saw her.

Someone from school—someone who knew Mary—started shouting. They’d seen Sofie climb too high without gear. Panic spread. Someone ran to find Mary.

Mary was running.

Her feet pounded against the uneven ground, breath sharp, fear sharper.

“Where is she?” she shouted. “Where’s Sofie?!”

Then she saw her.

At the top. Arms stretched. Hair tangled in the wind. Looking heartbreakingly small.

“SOFIE!”

Sofie paused. She turned.

Their eyes met across the distance—fear in one, numbness in the other.

Mary screamed again, her voice cracking:

“COME DOWN. PLEASE.”

Sofie didn’t move.

Mary’s voice broke. “Sofie, please. Please, come down.”

And something in that voice—something desperate—pierced through Sofie’s anger.

She stepped back. Slowly. Climbed down. Let the wind leave her alone.

The moment her shoes hit the ground, Mary ran to her.

“What the hell were you doing up there?!” she yelled. “Are you out of your mind?! Something could’ve happened!”

“I—I don’t know,” Sofie mumbled, eyes wet.

“You could’ve gotten seriously hurt! Or worse—”

“I’m sorry…”

Mary stepped back. She was shaking. Her voice was still too loud. “Why would you do that? Why now?”

And then her voice cracked again. Softer.

“Do you even care how scared I was?”

Sofie looked up at her. Her lip trembled.

“I thought…” she whispered. “You left. I brought you food and you just… left.”

Mary’s breath caught.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming back. They called me. I didn’t…”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Sofie whispered. “I thought I meant nothing anymore.”

Mary blinked rapidly. “Sofie, no. You… you still matter. Okay? I didn’t want to lose you. Not even as a friend.”

That word—friend—stung. But Sofie nodded.

They stood there for a second. Just breathing. The distance between them invisible and unbearable.

The rest of the picnic was quieter.

Sofie sat with the group again. She didn’t speak much, but she smiled when she needed to. Mary kept glancing at her. Once, they locked eyes—and for a second, the air softened.

✨ Later that night…

Sofie lay in bed.

The stars outside her window were half-hidden by clouds. Her pizza slice was still in her bag. Untouched.

She stared at the ceiling, arms crossed over her chest.

Today should’ve been perfect. And for a while—it was.

Mary had sat beside her. They’d laughed together. She’d almost believed they were okay again.

But then Mary had vanished. Just like that. And Sofie was reminded—again—that love wasn’t hers to hold.

She thought about the way Mary shouted her name. The panic in her voice. The way she said, “You still matter.”

Sofie smiled, just a little. But it didn’t reach her eyes.

Some hearts don’t beat right. Hers beats too fast. And mine doesn’t know what it’s beating for anymore.

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[wefellanyway]

Some Hearts Don’t Beat Right

She was cursed to never fall in love. Mary was cursed to never die. One of them would’ve died for love. The other couldn’t feel it. Can Sofie find her way to love despite the curse? Or will the silence between them swallow everything first? Some hearts don’t beat right. But they still beat anyway.

(Original sapphic romance | WLW | cursed love | emotional damage)

#wlw #sapphicwriting #originalromance #queerfiction #wlwangst #lovecurse #writingblr #originalstory

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Chapter 1: The Wrong Section

It started on a dusty morning in March. The kind that smells like old classrooms, faded uniforms, and the weight of unspoken things.

The section lists were being announced. Sofie stood in the hallway with her hands clasped together too tightly, pretending not to care.

They’d been in 6H together last year—her and Mary. Best friends, seatmates, constant shadows. Sofie hadn’t ever said it aloud, but she knew—deep in her stomach, in the corners of her throat—that her feelings weren’t just platonic. Mary wasn’t just a friend.

She was something softer. Something warmer. Something dangerous.

But that day, all Sofie wanted was to stay close. Another year beside Mary. That would be enough. That would keep the ache quiet.

Then the announcement came.

“Section 7H will consist of students previously from 6H… except for Sofie.” A pause. “Sofie will be moved to Section J.”

It was the kind of sentence that didn’t sound real at first. The hallway went quiet. Even the teachers blinked.

Mary looked back over her shoulder—just for a second—but Sofie didn’t meet her eyes.

Her chest caved in silently.

She walked to her new classroom like a ghost—barely aware of her shoes, her bag, her breath. Everything felt heavier than it should’ve. When she arrived at 7J, her name had already been called. She slipped in late and got the only seat left: back row, by the window.

She didn’t want to cry. Crying made things feel too real.

Then a voice cut through the silence in her head.

“Hey,” it said. “Look who finally shows up.”

It was Elle—her childhood friend, her backup lifeline.

Sofie blinked. “Elle?”

“In the flesh,” Elle grinned. “Unfortunately.”

She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “You’re doing that thing again. Where your face looks like a tragic indie song.”

Sofie gave her half a smile. Maybe less.

Elle leaned in and whispered dramatically, “I am Elle, the Emotional Support Vampire. I’ve been summoned because you’ve clearly suffered a tragic heartbreak before lunch.”

It was ridiculous. It also made Sofie let out a very tiny, very real laugh.

For a second, the pain in her chest loosened.

Lunch break was the worst part.

Sofie sat at a metal table with Elle and two other girls she didn’t really know. Her lunchbox sat unopened in front of her. She didn’t speak. Didn’t eat. Just stared across the courtyard like someone had left a hole there.

Mary was sitting beneath the neem tree—hair in a long braid, laughing with her two friends. The sun lit up her profile like something out of a memory Sofie wasn’t allowed to keep.

They used to have lunch together every day. They used to share jokes and mango bites, draw stars on each other’s arms, whisper about nothing. Now Mary didn’t even glance at her.

She was surrounded by noise, inside jokes, toppers and teacher-favorites. And Sofie... wasn’t part of that anymore.

She watched in silence. Every so often, Elle would try to drag her back into conversation—snapping her fingers, teasing her—but Sofie’s eyes kept drifting.

Mary looked so bright over there. So unreachable.

Across the courtyard, Mary didn’t look back. But she felt it.

That quiet tug at her spine. That feeling that someone was watching her with eyes full of everything unsaid.

She didn’t let herself turn around.

Her friends were with her—Mina and Clara—both loud, smart, obsessed with test scores and gossip. She laughed when she was supposed to. She passed her notebook around for answers. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and focused on her food like it mattered.

But she knew Sofie was behind her. She could feel her. Still and quiet and missing.

Mary had seen the look on Sofie’s face that morning when the section was announced. It haunted her a little. But she didn’t know how to reach for her now. Not with everyone watching. Not with her own heart thudding too loudly to think.

She wasn’t ready to ask herself why it mattered so much.

When the day ended, Sofie walked home in a fog. Her house felt too quiet. Her bed felt too empty. She pulled out an old notebook and opened to a blank page. For a moment, she just stared.

Then she wrote:

She’s still there. And I’m not.

She closed the notebook. Pressed her face into the pillow. Didn’t cry.

That was the day everything changed. And neither of them knew how to say it out loud.

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