Maybe it was the way she saw her, crying on the bleachers late at night. Maybe it was the way she looked at her all those years later, with knowing, half-lidded eyes. Maybe it was the way that deep down she always knew what she was feeling. Even if she couldn't name it.

Maybe it was everything.

Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Content's Asexuality Contest, with expansions. Inspired by this song.