Kara tried to make the most of every hour she had with Willow. Coffee runs turned into long walks, movie nights bled into mornings, even the smallest excuse became a reason to see her. She smiled too brightly, laughed too easily, as if time wasn't slipping away under her skin.
Willow noticed. Of course she did.
"You've been weird lately," Willow said one evening as they sat side by side on the curb outside her boarding house, sharing a single cigarette like old times. The street buzzed with motorbikes, but between them, there was only the flicker of flame. "Like… I don't know. Distracted."
Kara inhaled, let the smoke burn her lungs before she answered. "I just don't wanna waste time, that's all. With you."
Willow softened, nudging Kara's shoulder. "You talk like I'm gonna vanish."
Kara laughed, shaky. "Maybe I'm just paranoid."
What she didn't say: I already submitted the application. Bali is waiting. I just don't know how to tell you.
Because Willow had been there through everything. Kara's first kiss, first heartbreak, first rebellion. But her mother had never accepted her. Dean neither. From the beginning, they said Willow was a distraction, someone who would keep Kara from being "serious." And Kara, stubborn as ever, had clung tighter, convinced that loving Willow was the truest thing she'd ever done.
Still, the weight pressed heavier each day.
So Kara held on tighter. She took Willow out for late-night drives, the kind where the city lights blurred past and the music was turned up just enough to drown out the noise in her head. They shared milkshakes at the 24-hour diner, fingers brushing across the table, laughter spilling too loud for the hour. And when Kara dropped Willow home, she lingered in the car, unwilling to let the night close.
That night was no different. They pulled up in front of Willow's boarding house, headlights cutting across the quiet street. Willow sighed, leaning back in her seat. "You really are acting like I'm gonna disappear."
"Maybe I just don't know how to let you go," Kara whispered, her voice small.
Willow turned, studying her face under the dim glow of the dashboard. Then, gently, she reached out and touched Kara's jaw, her thumb brushing against her cheek. "Then don't. Not tonight."
The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, but it deepened quickly, messy and desperate, like both of them knew they were racing a clock neither could stop. Kara's hands tangled in Willow's hair, Willow's palms pressed into Kara's shoulders, pulling her closer across the console. The car felt too small, too fragile to hold the gravity of what they were doing.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Kara rested her forehead against Willow's. "I wish it could always be like this."
"Me too," Willow murmured, her lips brushing Kara's skin. "But wishing doesn't change anything."
Silence hung heavy. Neither wanted to open the door, to step out into reality. Willow's hand lingered in Kara's until the last possible second. Then she slipped out of the car, standing on the curb with that look Kara would never forget—half in love, half already letting go.
Kara rolled down the window, forcing a grin through the ache in her chest. "Goodnight, Will."
Willow leaned down, gave her one last peck on the lips, and whispered, "Goodbye, Kara."
And then she was gone, walking up the steps, leaving Kara gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding her together.