Night Changes (Macolet au)

A week after their quiet, private dinner, Maloi found herself thinking about Colet even more. Their connection had deepened, and she couldn't ignore the pull she felt every time they were together. But there was still an unspoken tension between them, a quiet yearning that neither had fully addressed. They had laughed, shared stories, and explored their differences, but Maloi couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more lingering beneath the surface—something neither of them had put into words.

On a whim, as they exchanged messages one afternoon, Maloi decided to ask Colet to join her for something lighthearted, something that might allow them to enjoy each other's company without the weight of expectations. She had recently signed up for a pottery class, something she had always wanted to try, and she thought it would be fun—plus, it would give them a chance to talk without the distractions of their usual environments.

"Hey, Colet," Maloi texted, her fingers hovering over the screen. "I'm going to this pottery class tomorrow. You up for getting your hands dirty with me?"

She paused for a moment before sending it, unsure if Colet would find it amusing or just too random. But before long, a reply popped up on her phone.

"I've never tried pottery before, but it sounds interesting. Sure, why not?"

Maloi smiled at the response, her heart fluttering a little. Maybe it was just a simple outing, but there was something about Colet's willingness to join her that made the idea feel a little more meaningful.

The next day, they met at the pottery studio, a cozy space filled with the earthy scent of clay and the soft hum of quiet conversation. The instructor, a cheerful woman in her thirties, greeted them with a warm smile and guided them to their workstations. Colet, ever composed, looked around with curiosity as she slid into her seat, her hands instinctively folding over the edge of her clay wheel. Maloi, on the other hand, was already beaming with excitement.

"I've done this before," Maloi said with a wink, picking up a lump of clay. "So, don't laugh when my first piece is a disaster."

Colet gave her a slight smile, the corners of her mouth tilting up just enough for Maloi to see it. "I'll try not to," she teased, her usual composed demeanor softened by the easy, playful atmosphere.

They both began to work the clay, Colet methodically following the instructor's guidance, while Maloi seemed to throw herself into the process with her characteristic enthusiasm. Despite her initial nerves, Colet found herself enjoying the quiet rhythm of the wheel, the soothing sensation of shaping the clay under her fingers. She could hear Maloi's laughter in the background as she made an exaggerated attempt at shaping her own piece.

"Hey, this looks like a really lumpy vase!" Maloi exclaimed from across the room, her voice lighthearted. Colet glanced over to see Maloi's piece, which, though not perfect, had a certain charm to it.

"It's... definitely something," Colet said, her lips quirking into a soft smile.

The instructor moved around the room, offering guidance here and there, but for the most part, the two women were left to their own devices. As the evening wore on, the space between them seemed to close—both of them quietly focused on their work, but with an undercurrent of something more.

Maloi glanced over at Colet, watching her hands expertly shape the clay. There was something captivating about the way Colet concentrated, her eyes narrowed in focus, the quiet strength in the way she moved. Maloi couldn't help but admire how at ease Colet seemed despite the unfamiliarity of the situation.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the air between them shifted. It was as if they both felt the same thing—the silent acknowledgment that there was something more between them than just friendship. Colet's gaze softened, and Maloi's heart raced. She couldn't explain it, but there was a connection that neither of them could ignore.