Abby and Violet (Yuri Light Novel)

The face staring back at me was still youthful and fresh, but when the day comes that it is wrinkly and old, I’ll be both surprised and not at the same time. I was thinking this because it was already the countdown of New Year’s and it felt like Christmas had been just yesterday. Aby was even humming a Christmas tune when I got up to use the bathroom and freshen up. I felt, and looked, strangely flushed. What’s more, there had been a tingling on my lips and tips of my fingers, and when I got up, my head felt a bit light. I didn’t feel sick or anything though. Kinda giddy, actually, which was an odd combination with my cramping.

“Eh, must be Abby’s mood and it being this late,” I told myself with a shrug.

I opened the door and almost bumped into Abby, who was just about to knock. We both stared at each other’s faces, Abby also looking a bit flushed and likely wondering the same I was.

Then, she reached out and cupped my face between her hands, giving me a serious look.

“Erm… did I do something wrong, or are you just being affectionate?” I asked, a bit confused by her actions.

“Gee, just being affectionate, you silly girl,” she told me. “And trying to figure out why you’re blushing so much.”

“I could say the same, you know?” I told her, now also cupping her face. Her cheeks felt warmer than usual.

“Hehe! I love how your hands always feel cold to the touch,” she chirped as her seriousness dissolved in pleased satisfaction, her eyes half-lidded as she moved her head, so my hands caressed her cheeks.

“Fufu! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Hehe! Yup! It’s been nice and peaceful, hasn’t—”

“Are you two done with the bathroom?” Sophie’s voice interrupted.

“Ah! Just a second!” Abby told her, making me sidestep out of her way and diving right inside the bathroom, closing the door after her. Sophie grumbled under her breath as she leaned on the wall by my side while I couldn’t help but laugh. Then, I noticed how Sophie was staring at me, or to be more precise, to my chest. I looked, thinking that I might have something on my sweater, but there was nothing.

“Sorry, I… I was just wondering,” she said, crossing her arms over her own chest. “What bra size are you? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

I thought for a second before concluding that if it was Sophie, I was ok with sharing that detail about myself.

“I’m a 30B.”

“Hmm, that sounds so nice,” she said, now casting down her eyes to her own chest that she was now squeezing tighter. “I wish mine was like yours… I love this sweater Claire got me, but I feel like my chest is too big for it, or for most of my clothes anyway.”

“…I think it looks nice.”

“Thanks, but it could still look nice and be two cups smaller, couldn’t it?”

I was talking about the sweater’s fit, but I didn’t tell her that so I wouldn’t embarrass her.

“Are you two really talking about boobs?” Abby laughed the moment she opened the door. “Ah! Papa Stan!”

Sophie and I snapped our necks towards where Abby was looking. By the entrance to the living room he stood, looking still a bit sleepy from his napping on the couch, but now a bit red around his face too.

Sophie, the reddest of us, asked him what he heard, something I knew he could never answer correctly no matter what.

“J-just the part Abby said when she got out of the bathroom,” he told her, his awkwardness making it sound like a lie.

Sophie turned carmine and rushed inside the bathroom with a weird sound, shutting the door behind her. My Dad approached me and Abby and leaned down to hush at us.

“I really mean it, I just heard what Abby said,” he told us. “You got to believe me!”

“We get it, but just leave it be,” I advised him.

“Y-you sure?”

“Yeah,” I told him as I pulled Abby into my hold, wanting her warmth against my stomach. “If Abby is right—and she usually is—”

“Not just usually, always!” Abby chirped as she snuggled closer to me.

“—that Sophie and I are a lot like each other in the most painful of matters, then you should act with Sophie as you would with me, ok?”

He straightened up and stared at the bathroom door. He wasn’t satisfied with our answer. His male side, the same one I found infuriating at times when I had just wanted to vent, not to hear solutions to my problems, wanted to fix things right away. However, he also knew that what Abby and I told him was valuable advice he should act upon, so whatever it was that he wanted to do to make things right, it’d have to wait until Sophie had settled down.

“Still though, your sister really is sensitive about her chest,” I commented with Abby as we stepped into the privacy of the kitchen to get some more sparkling apple juice.

“I mean, as soon as sis started developing her chest, and that Mum realised Sophie would have a nice pair at that, she automatically began dressing up Sophie in ways that were modest enough to sell the image of this proper, polite girl, but that also highlighted her D-cups. Kinda like she was doing with me, you see, only, since she already had a designated guy in mind for me, and I’m this short and just kinda modestly proportionate all around, I was made less of a showpiece. Plus, Sophie always thought they get more in the way than anything else. Do you want more ice in your drink?”

I accepted the offer of ice as I thought about what Abby just told me. First of all, the part where Abby said she was put less as a showpiece. I still remembered quite well the dress her Mum made her wear, the one Abby tore to pieces one day after showing me how she had to dress and doll herself up. That was anything but modest in my opinion, what with the way it showed her cleavage, hugged her body and made her walk in a way that swayed her hips “alluringly” due to the skirt. With that bit of context, I wondered just how did Sophie had to dress and found it to be of little wonder why Sophie was like that about her chest, which yes, it was relatively big and well-shaped, I guess, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, no pun intended.

Their past life was filled with things that’d leave anyone with some sort of emotional scars and complexes, Sophie’s self-awareness about her bust being just one more of them, and one that will persist for who knows how long… if it ever goes away that is. Hopefully, it’d be like Abby’s complex over being “childish”. That took quite the effort, but now Abby has found a nice balance. She has matured in a lot of ways, both in character and personality, and in how she dresses, but she also has her plushies—that I gave her and I think helped a lot her getting over her complex—some of her clothes, and even some of her underwear reflect that other side of her on a visible level, not to mention her mannerisms and tendencies.

“Still, I think Sophie has gotten better,” Abby told me after she took a big sip out of her glass, snapping me back to reality. “She did just say that she likes the sweater Claire got her and has been wearing it, even though it hugs her chest. Maybe because of how Claire acts around and towards her while having the same chest size? Not quite like you and I about your legs, but close enough for Sophie to learn to be more comfortable with herself.”

“You know,” Sophie’s voice sounded behind me, filled with snark and making me jump. “It’s rude to talk about others behind their back.”

Abby placed her glass down and skipped towards her sister, completely unfazed, and straight into hugging Sophie, saying that it was ok since we were only saying good things about her. Sophie hugged Abby back and chuckled an “ok”, not sounding completely convinced, but Abby had a way to convince Sophie not to be mad at her just like she does with me.

But then, Sophie got serious as she looked at the counter where our glasses and a bottle of sparkling apple juice that stood three quarters empty by now were. She asked us if we had been drinking from it. We confirmed that we had since it was the one she had gotten for us to drink. She sighed and told us that we had mixed up bottles as that one was the apple cider she had gotten to herself—she doesn’t like sparkling wine, while the one meant for us was identical but had two blue strips on the label instead of yellow.

“Oh,” Abby and I hummed at the same time, Abby then continuing. “That explains why my lips and fingers have been feeling tingly. Sorry.”

“I guess it’s fine,” Sophie concluded. “Unlike me when I got cocktails thinking they were alcohol-free, you are at home and with us, so it’s not like you have to stumble your way home blind drunk. It barely has any alcohol in it anyway.”

“They’ve been drinking?” my Dad asked as he joined in, the small kitchen of our house now being at full capacity. Not even Oliver would be able to fit. “That’s surprising to hear.”

Sophie got a bit flustered, likely due to before and also due to how close they stood now, and explained to him our small mishap. He agreed with her decision and added that Abby and I would both be eighteen in four months, so it’s not like our ages were that much of an issue anyway. He then kept staring at Sophie, making her shift in place and cross her arms over her chest just to force herself to lower them, her hands restring crossed over her lap. She asked him why he was staring at her so much with a voice that sounded more like a croak.

“I’m suspicious of saying this since it’s my favourite colour, but I really do think that red sweater suits you.”

“Oh, erm… t-thanks.”

“Claire really has good taste on what clothes to pick for you. Must be nice having a friend who can help you pick your clothes, although, I guess that if I’m in doubt, I can at least always ask one of you three for feedback.”

It dawned on me then that Claire might have picked a red, somewhat form-fitting, sweater for Sophie not just because red also happens to be Claire’s favourite colour and she thought Sophie would look good in it, but also because she knew it was my Dad’s and that he’d like seeing Sophie wearing it.

The two left, chatting with one another, Sophie making her “complains” about how annoying Claire can be with the fondest smile on her face and my Dad listening to her with heartfelt attention, and me and Abby followed after them, now carrying some water with ice and a slice of lemon instead of more of what we now knew was alcoholic. Dad and Sophie sat down on the couch a bit closer than normal so they could carry on their conversation in a hushed tone so to not disturb William, who was sleeping as he too sat on the couch, Oliver hopping onto her lap, while I sat down and opened my legs so Abby had her usual seat between them, wiggling her butt as she pushed herself flush against me. We then continued with watching Mathilda’s stream. Her avatar today had a party hat and those vanity New Year glasses. This was the very end of the stream, it seemed, as she was reading the final messages attached with donations her viewers sent her. One in particular made me and Abby laugh, us immediately knowing who had sent it.

“I don’t know how appropriate it is for a teacher to be donating money to one of her students, but I just want to say that I’m happy to see you having such a great time, but also to remind you that you have homework due on the 3rd of January.”

Mathilda was clearly embarrassed by the message, stammering that she had already done it all “with the gang”, and she got even more embarrassed when the chat started poking fun at her for getting scolded, for having a teacher following her, and for having such a nice teacher. Some were even trying to ask details about her from Miss Maple, her username popping up a lot in the chat while Mathilda begged our teacher not to say a word. Miss Maple joined in on the fun, joking that she won’t share embarrassing stories about her as payback for all the times she just casually addresses her by name while at school if Mathilda would score higher than last time in her tests.

“Well, my boyfriend just arrived to pick me up to spend the New Year with his family, so that’s all for today chat! Happy New Year!” Mathilda said in a rush before finishing her stream.

“I think Miss Maple just became a fan favourite for Mathilda’s chat,” Abby panted as she grabbed her pad. “Now, to business.”

“Business?”

“Yup, business.”

She didn’t elucidate, nor did she have to as I saw her typing on the search bar “Universities with a focus on P.E courses”.

I told her she didn’t have to start looking for it tonight, but she just laughed me off, saying that it was only ten minutes to midnight, so she might as well start doing some research and continue it tomorrow. And with a smile that was too nice for me to resist, she told me that she was expecting hearing my opinion on the universities she’ll be checking too, as she’d like to go on campus dates with me once she is a university student.

“…Do you think you can find one with a nice library?” I asked as I hugged her closer.

“Hmm, so you can work there?”

“That’d be way too convenient, don’t you think? I was just thinking about us studying there together between classes or after lunch break. Well, you’d be studying, I’ll likely just be doing you company.”

In about four months, Abby and I will officially be adults. In half-a-year from now, Abby and I will stop being high-schoolers. In eight, we’ll likely be settling in our new temporary home while Abby finishes her studies. In about a year, Abby and I will likely be back here to celebrate Christmas and the New Year with our family after maybe having been away for four months. During this time of the year, there are lots of people saying the old adage “New Year, new me!”. Most of them, it’s just talk as everything will stay the same. Some of those might change a few habits in the first month or so, but then, they’ll likely revert to their past normal. For us though, that was a reality that was feeling more and more present as the clock ticked by.

Our research got interrupted by the sound of fireworks from outside. We shared a lingering kiss, the first of many of this new year together, something that made me feel calm amidst all this promise of change: as much as things become different in our lives, as long as we have each other, we’ll have this stable platform to build ourselves up, and that will never change.

“I guess Dad and I should get going now,” I heard Sophie say. Looking in her direction, I saw that William was still sleeping, somehow. I suppose work, a hearty-meal and age were quite the powerful soporific.

“If you ask me, I’d say for you two to just stay over,” my Dad told her after looking at William too. “You or your Dad can stay in my bed, Violet and I can ready the guest mattress for the other one, and I’ll stay on the couch. I know you two live a stone’s throw away but look at him.”

Sophie stared at her Dad, considering mine’s offer. Abby shifted in my lap, clearly getting a bit excited by the idea, just not for the reason I thought she would, or at least, as the only reason.

“Let’s do that!” Abby cheered quietly. “I wanna have breakfast with the whole family tomorrow!”

Quite the wholesome reason for her excitement, right? Still, I though that part of that was having her sister spend a bit more time with my Dad.

“We have some spare toothbrushes too,” I added, thinking that Abby’s idea of having a family New Year’s breakfast in the morning.

“Well… we’ll have to ask Dad, but you have me convinced.”

“Yay! Dad, wake up! You’re staying over!” Abby said, hopping out of her seat and mercilessly getting to it.

William woke up with a startle, confused for a bit about what was going on. When Abby explained to him why she woke him up, he scolded her about how she did it. Abby, being Abby, didn’t let that be the rain on her parade though.

“But Dad, just think about the New Year’s pancakes and coffee breakfast! With honey drizzled on top and some fruit on the side!”

“…Erm, Abby? Are you perhaps a bit hungry right now?” I asked.

“Huh? Erm, yeah, a bit.”

Yup, there definitively are things that likely will never change.

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