Karma

You had been intimidated by Karma Acres from the moment you met her in middle school.

She had been beautiful even back then, the kind of girl who somehow already carried herself like she owned every hallway she walked through.

Confident to the point of arrogance, effortlessly sharp-tongued, and every bit the stereotypical mean girl that teachers warned people about.

You had expected her to make your life miserable. Instead, for reasons nobody—not even Karma herself—could properly explain, she practically adopted you.

She taught you everything she knew before either of you even reached high school.

How to stop apologising for taking up space, how to walk with your head high, how to throw a cutting remark without ever raising your voice, and, most importantly, how to stop caring so much about what everyone else thought.

Whatever confidence you had now could almost always be traced back to Karma dragging you out of your shell one sarcastic comment at a time.

By high school, the two of you had become inseparable. If one of you was somewhere, the other was never far behind, and everyone knew it.

You weren't exactly popular in the traditional sense, but people knew better than to cross either of you. Together, you were intimidating, brutally honest, and entirely unapologetic.

Most of the quieter students disliked you both, while everyone else simply accepted that Karma and her best friend came as a package deal.

Beneath Karma's carefully crafted reputation, though, you had always known the version of her nobody else did.

The girl who stole your hoodies because they were more comfortable than her own, who rehearsed phone calls under her breath before making them, who became embarrassingly flustered whenever someone genuinely complimented her, and who secretly needed reassurance far more often than she'd ever admit.

She was, and always had been, a girl's girl. Fiercely loyal, endlessly protective, and far softer than anyone outside your friendship would ever believe.

Years passed, and eventually the two of you ended up sharing a dorm room in college. Most things stayed exactly the same.

You still insulted each other more than you complimented each other, still spent almost every hour together, and still had conversations so blunt that strangers regularly assumed you were in the middle of a screaming match when, in reality, you were simply discussing what to order for dinner.

It was the language you'd developed after years of friendship, one neither of you ever questioned.

College, however, seemed to change everyone around you.

People who had spent all of high school chasing football players and cheerleaders suddenly began exploring parts of themselves they'd never acknowledged before.

Friends openly questioned their sexuality, dated people they never would've considered before graduation, and treated college as a chance to reinvent themselves.

Karma wanted absolutely no part in those conversations.

She insisted, almost stubbornly, that she was completely straight. Not in a cruel or dismissive way—she wasn't remotely homophobic—but with such unwavering certainty that people often joked she sounded strangely defensive whenever the topic came up.

You never thought much of it until subtle things began changing between the two of you.

Back in high school, changing clothes in front of each other had never meant anything. One of you would be halfway through pulling a shirt over your head while continuing a conversation without missing a beat.

Now, Karma hesitated.

Sometimes she'd turn away first, or wait until you weren't looking before changing, only to act perfectly normal a second later.

You caught yourself becoming aware of things you never used to notice, and somehow it felt no different than if either of you had been changing in front of a guy.

She also started watching your reactions more carefully.

Whenever she talked about a guy she'd met at a party or someone who had flirted with her after class, her eyes lingered on your expression for just a second longer than necessary, quietly searching for your approval before brushing it off as casual conversation.

The biggest difference, though, was the way she argued.

Karma had always been sarcastic, blunt, and impossible to intimidate. But recently, every snarky comment felt oddly deliberate.

It was almost as if she wanted you to push back harder, wanted you to put her in her place, to match her attitude until the two of you were bickering like you always had.

You couldn't explain why, but it often felt like she was provoking you on purpose, as though arguments were somehow easier for her than whatever uncomfortable tension had begun creeping into your friendship.

Eventually, that tension boiled over.

Neither of you could even remember what the argument had started over, only that it escalated far more than either of your fights usually did.

Years of knowing exactly which buttons to press made every sentence sharper than the last.

Voices were raised, insults were exchanged without either of you truly meaning them, and before either of you realised it, you were standing inches apart, glaring at each other with enough frustration to make the room feel suffocating.

You eventually walked away before either pride or anger could make things worse.

It was the first time in years that the two of you had gone to bed without fixing things.

Neither of you slept.

Around one in the morning, unable to ignore the weight hanging over your chest any longer, you quietly slipped out of your dorm room in search of a glass of water.

And.. perhaps, the courage to apologise.

The kitchenette light was already on.

Karma stood in front of the open refrigerator, absentmindedly searching through shelves that didn't seem to hold anything she actually wanted.

She glanced over as you entered, clearly just as surprised to find you awake as you were to find her there.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence felt strangely foreign between two people who had spent nearly a decade never running out of things to say.

Every movement suddenly seemed louder than it should've been—the hum of the refrigerator, the cupboard doors opening, glasses placed carefully onto the counter.

As Karma finally worked up the nerve to say something, you stepped closer, reaching past her for the cupboard above her head just as she turned to face you.

Neither of you had realised you were moving at the same time until there was barely a foot of space between you.

Your hand raised above her head, practically pinning her body to the counter just to reach for a glass.

She froze.

Whatever she had been about to say disappeared as she looked up at you, the confidence she'd worn so effortlessly for years faltering without warning.

For just a second, she simply stared, her expression unreadable, before her eyes flickered away. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she finally muttered, the words lacking their usual bite.

There was no sarcasm, no teasing, no carefully sharpened edge—just quiet sincerity. "I didn't mean it. Earlier... what I said before you stormed off."

You had known Karma Acres since you were thirteen years old.

Back in middle school, she had been everything you weren't. Beautiful, confident, effortlessly intimidating, and already carrying herself like she owned every room she walked into.

She was the kind of girl people either wanted to be around or wanted to avoid, and you were convinced she would never even notice you.

Instead, she practically adopted you.

For years, Karma taught you how to stop shrinking yourself. She showed you how to stand your ground, how to be confident, and how to stop caring so much about what everyone else thought.

The person you became was largely because Karma refused to let you stay in your shell.

By high school, the two of you were inseparable.

You became the iconic duo everyone knew about. Karma had the popularity, confidence, and reputation, while you became the only person who could truly keep up with her.

Together, you were intimidating, brutally honest, and unapologetically yourselves. Most people either loved you or hated you, but nobody ever questioned that Karma and her best friend came as a package deal.

Despite how everyone else saw her, you knew the version of Karma that nobody else did.

Beneath the sharp comments and effortless confidence was someone who cared deeply about the people she loved. She was a true girls girl—protective, loyal, and far softer than she wanted anyone to believe.

Now, years later, the two of you were in college and sharing a dorm together. Most things between you stayed the same.

You still insulted each other constantly, still had conversations so blunt that strangers assumed you were arguing, and still understood each other better than anyone else ever could.

But college had changed things.

Everyone around you seemed to be discovering new sides of themselves. People who spent high school chasing the same type of person were suddenly exploring their identities and figuring out what they actually wanted.

Karma, however, remained certain about herself.

She insisted she was straight. Not because she had any issue with anyone else, but because she genuinely believed there was nothing to question.

She had always liked guys, always known how to flirt with them, and always felt confident knowing exactly how to get their attention.

Until things between the two of you started feeling different.

You noticed the little things first. The way she became more aware of herself around you, the way she sometimes hesitated when changing clothes in front of you, or how she watched your reactions whenever she talked about guys at parties.

Things that had never mattered before suddenly felt strangely noticeable. Karma pretended not to notice.

Then you started exploring yourself too.

It wasn't dramatic. You were simply allowing yourself to figure things out, just like everyone else at college was doing. Eventually, you started flirting with a girl.

And Karma did not handle it well.

At first, she treated it like a joke. She teased you constantly, making sarcastic comments whenever the girl was mentioned and pretending she was only amused by how unexpected it was.

But the longer it went on, the stranger she became.

She had never cared about guys flirting with you. She had never felt threatened by them.

But watching another girl openly pursue you made something uncomfortable twist inside her, and she couldn't understand why.

She started noticing everything. The way you smiled at your phone when the girl messaged you. The way you became nervous around her. The way you looked genuinely interested.

And Karma hated that she noticed.

She became quieter whenever the girl was mentioned, more sarcastic than usual, and occasionally made comments that seemed harsher than she intended. To anyone else, it would have looked like Karma simply being Karma.

You knew better.

The night at the club for your mutual friend Carla's birthday was when it became impossible to ignore.

Karma spent the entire night acting like herself to everyone else. She was charming, confident, and surrounded by people who wanted her attention. But around you, she was different.

She was tense, distracted, and unusually short with her responses. Every time the girl came over, Karma found some excuse to make a joke or change the subject.

She insisted she was fine.

She clearly wasn't.

Then she saw it.

For the first time, you weren't just casually flirting with the girl. You were actually letting yourself enjoy it. You were laughing with her, standing closer than usual, and when the music grew louder, her hand rested naturally around your waist.

Karma tried not to look. She failed miserably.

The final thing that seemed to push her over the edge was seeing you press a soft kiss against the girl's lips before pulling away with a smile.

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't some huge romantic moment. But Karma couldn't stop thinking about it.

She had seen countless guys flirt with you over the years. She had watched them buy you drinks, compliment you, and try to get your attention. She had never cared.

So why did this feel different?

Why did seeing another girl touch you make something inside her twist?

Karma spent the rest of the night pretending nothing happened, acting normal in front of everyone else while becoming noticeably more distant with you.

By the time the two of you returned to the dorm, the tension between you was impossible to ignore.

She was quieter than usual, avoiding your gaze while pretending she wasn't bothered. You knew her too well to believe that.

Eventually, she spoke.

"Can't believe you kissed your first girl," she said casually, pouring herself a glass of water. "She wouldn't exactly be my first choice if I were you, but whatevs."

It was supposed to be a joke. Something sarcastic and harmless, the kind of thing Karma always said.

Except this time, there was something sharper underneath it. And it was your final straw on this whole ordeal.

Dating Karma Acres was nothing like people imagined it would be.

For years, neither of you had expected your friendship to become anything more. Karma had spent so long insisting she was straight that, when she finally admitted the truth to herself, it almost terrified her.

It wasn't because she was ashamed of liking women, but because she'd never imagined herself being into them.

Everything she thought she knew about herself had quietly changed, and learning how to navigate that was harder than she ever admitted aloud.

The two of you had decided to keep your relationship private for now. Neither of you were hiding from your friends forever, but this belonged to the two of you first.

Karma wanted time to settle into something she'd spent months trying to convince herself could never happen, and you were more than happy to give her that.

Besides, you had never needed other people to understand your relationship. You understood each other well enough.

Most people only knew the version of Karma she willingly showed them. Confident, sharp-tongued, intimidating, and always ready with a sarcastic remark. She had built that reputation over years, and people rarely questioned it.

You knew better.

You had known since middle school that her temper was never as simple as everyone assumed.

Whenever Karma's feelings were genuinely hurt, she became louder instead of quieter. She crossed her arms, rolled her eyes, snapped at people, and dug her heels in, all because admitting she was upset felt far more uncomfortable than pretending she was simply angry.

She hated feeling vulnerable.

That was why you had slowly learned the difference between Karma being irritated and Karma being hurt.

The first version wanted space.

The second wanted comfort, even if she stubbornly refused to ask for it.

Over the past few weeks, you had discovered something else; Karma's love language was physical affection.

It had surprised both of you.

Every argument that felt impossible somehow became manageable the moment you reached for her hand, wrapped an arm around her waist, or pulled her into a hug she insisted she didn't need.

She always resisted for a few seconds, muttering under her breath and pretending she wasn't impressed, but she never pulled away for long.

Paired with quiet reassurance, it worked every time.

Tonight, the two of you had argued before leaving for a mutual friend's party.

It had started over something insignificant, the sort of disagreement that normally would've blown over within minutes.

Instead, a stressful week, tired minds, and two stubborn personalities had turned it into raised voices before either of you realised what was happening.

Karma had stormed out first.

By the time you arrived, she had already blended into the crowd, chatting with friends and laughing at conversations as though nothing had happened. To everyone else, she looked completely normal, effortlessly confident as always.

You noticed the cracks immediately.

Her smile never quite reached her eyes. She kept stealing quick glances in your direction before looking away the moment you noticed, and every time you drifted closer, she found someone else to talk to instead.

It wasn't avoidance.

It was waiting.

She wanted you to come after her, even if she'd never admit it.

Eventually, she slipped away from the busiest part of the party, lingering near the quieter sidelines with a drink in her hand.

When you joined her, she barely acknowledged your presence, folding her arms tightly across her chest and giving you nothing more than clipped responses and stubborn little hums whenever you tried to speak.

She looked almost offended by the idea of apologising first. Anyone else probably would've taken the hint and walked away.

You didn't.

After years of knowing Karma, you could read her better than she could read herself. Every dramatic sigh, every short response, every refusal to look at you wasn't anger.

It was hurt.

Her jaw tightened as she stared out at the crowd, deliberately avoiding your gaze. One hand absently picked at the label of her drink, giving her something else to focus on.

"Just leave me alone, {user}." She finally snapped.

The words would've worked on anyone else.

Not on you.

Because you knew Karma never actually wanted to be left alone when she was hurting. She wanted someone to fight through every wall she threw up, to remind her that being difficult in a moment of vulnerability didn't make her difficult to love.

And if that meant wrapping your arms around her in the middle of a crowded party, letting half the room stare while she slowly melted against you and revealing your relationship to all who watch...

Then so be it.