ecstasy solo fin.

XX𝓐 laugh floated through the air like a melody. It didn’t just appear and vanish, it lingered, soft and stubborn, as if it had intentions of its own. It shimmered in the late afternoon light, warm and playful, twining itself around Violence’s ears like a familiar song she’d forgotten she knew. The breeze carried it easily across the lake, weaving through reeds that bowed under its touch, teasing loose petals off wildflowers along the shoreline. It ducked and dipped between the wings of two swans gliding on the glassy water, leaving tiny ripples trailing behind them.

Violence sat cross-legged on the grass, her elbows resting lazily against her knees. The wind had absolutely destroyed her hair, leaving dark strands plastered to her cheeks and stuck to her mouth. She grumbled under her breath, trying to tuck them behind her ear, though they kept slipping out again like they were trying to escape. The effort was useless, but she did it anyway, mostly out of habit. The gesture meant nothing, because her attention had already drifted to the girl beside her.

Azzure.

Azzure wasn’t even looking at her. She was completely absorbed in watching the swans, her expression soft, full of a kind of quiet admiration. Her eyes followed the birds as they moved in slow, perfect synchrony, their white bodies cutting smooth lines across the lake. They never drifted far from one another. It was as if they were tethered by something unseen. And yet, Violence couldn’t look away from her. It was ridiculous, really. She grabbed the occasional breath, but the air felt strange in her chest. Her thoughts bounced around like startled birds, most of them landing on the simple fact that Azzure looked beautiful even when she was saying nothing. Especially when she was saying nothing. There were patterns to the way she existed. Subtle ones. The way her shoulders lifted each time she laughed, just a little. The way the light made her hair shift in shades of white.

Ecstasy. Defined as the feeling or state of great happiness.

That was what Vi felt. Not the loud, dizzy sort of happiness someone felt after winning something or being praised. This was quieter. Softer. A happiness of belonging. A feeling that wrapped itself around her ribs and squeezed tenderly. Warmth washed through her chest, sinking into her bones until she wondered if it would ever leave. She felt filled up, like someone had lit a candle inside her ribcage and forgotten to blow it out. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She couldn’t help it. It was an instinct now, whenever she looked at Azzure.

Moments like this felt stolen from somewhere else, too precious to be casual. Evenings where nothing urgently needed doing, no one calling them away, no reason to get up. Just the two of them and a pocket of time they didn’t owe to anyone. She could live like this forever, she thought. Nothing fancy. No grand adventures or complicated magic. Just this. Everything she wanted, and everything she didn’t know she needed, was sitting right next to her. Close enough to brush her fingertips against. Close enough for their breaths to mingle.

Sunlight hit the water at a slant, turning the surface into rippled molten gold. Every time the swans circled, the lake tossed back shards of colour, bright and fleeting like tiny spells. Violence remembered something her mother once told her, something she had held onto for years without ever really expecting to see. She turned towards Azzure, her voice quiet, almost reverent. “My mother tells me that seeing a pair of swans is symbolic of eternal love. She said that if one dies, the other doesn’t find another companion. They stay alone. They don’t move on.” Azzure’s eyes flicked towards her, just barely. “They also represent a tranquil and balanced relationship,” Violence went on, softer now. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful things nature could share with us. I’ve never actually seen a pair until today. This feels… ethereal.” Her breath caught on the last word. She meant it. The world felt unreal, like a dream she had somehow wandered into without permission.

Violence tucked her knees to her chest, burying her chin against them as she breathed in the cool scent of grass and lake water. Azzure didn’t respond with words, but that didn’t matter. Her eyes reflected the same stillness, the same awe, that Violence felt thrumming under her skin. They never needed many words. Silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was full. Alive. Comforting. Sometimes she thought she might paint this one day. Because some moments demanded to be held still. Some memories deserved more than recollection. They deserved colour and texture and devotion.

She laid back on the grass, palms pressed into the soil. It was cool beneath her hands, grounding. Azzure followed, settling beside her so their arms nearly touched. The nearness was enough to make Violence’s chest tighten, but in a way that felt oddly peaceful. They watched the sky shift its colours slowly, like someone dragging a wet brush across parchment. Soft pinks darkened into mauve, which sank into thin streaks of indigo. Clouds drifted lazily overhead, painted in trailing strokes that reminded Violence of cotton. The air cooled. Fireflies blinked awake along the treeline. Somewhere nearby, a nightjar started to sing. Everything felt impossibly gentle, like the universe had lowered its voice just for them.

They talked about nothing and everything. Little things. Stories from childhood. Silly secrets. Quiet dreams they barely dared to share. Their laughter came easily, blending with the chorus of evening sounds. Violence remembered thinking that if time stopped right here, she’d be content. She didn’t need anything more than this piece of quiet. This girl beside her. This feeling curling through her chest. She could have lived in this moment forever. She didn’t know then that this would become one of the memories she clung to hardest, long after the world changed.

She only knew she was happy. Properly happy. And that was enough.