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The melodious sound of a flute passing through the school air was not really worthy of note since the concert band became so driven in their practice. Students and teachers still left on the grounds were accustomed to the sounds of all the many instruments being practiced. Maybe, if someone with the knowledge of music listened to this particular flute, they’d notice that the person playing it was out of practice, though their sound was still beautiful.
A gut punch. Shortness of breath, as if underwater. The sick feeling in the stomach, rolling in on itself and threatening to make her body retch. Shakiness of limbs, forcing her to stay still and keep listening because she couldn’t trust herself to move. Tears welling up like a lake, but never released.
Mizore wanted the sound of that flute gone with all her mind.
Only one person ever played the flute in that way, one Mizore tried to describe to herself so many times, but felt that none could capture the beauty of it in its entirety. The best she could think of was „flowing like a refreshing breeze in summer” or „the rolling of a slightly wavy sea”. She knew, if she opened her eyes, she would see those same vibrant colors, spring green and deep blue of the ocean in the rhythm of the piece, the notes floating off the sheet with all the underlying skill the player possessed. Kasaki Nozomi; the one person Mizore never wanted to face again, who’s music she couldn’t open her eyes to.
Mizore held onto the metal frame as if she had already fallen from a height and that was the only thing she could grab onto. Unbidden, unwanted, but now unshackled, memories of the past swirled in her mind - the way Nozomi became her friend in school, not caring for how solitary or inexpressive Mizore was; the knowledge she was still one friend out of many; the way Nozomi’s light blue eyes, so light they were almost the gray of rainfall over the sea, shone with determination after their defeat at the competition, full of that drive that enchanted Mizore so much ever since she first gazed into then. It was almost like she could see the music in those eyes, little notes of emotion played behind them.
Then that memory returned. It was gossip from those third-years, something Mizore almost never paid attention to because it was so frequent, so irrelevant. Practicing made it easier to tune then out, her focus on the grass green and lake blue of the notes which emerged out of the oboe with playful steps. With Nozomi’s name spoken, however, she couldn’t but take note of the conversation. The words spoken were like icy spikes driven into her being, cold notes drowning out every other sound in the atmosphere.
Even as Mizore picked up the oboe again, unsure if she could hear one more word of theirs, there was only thought in her mind.
Nozomi left?
The question echoed far too loud in the deserted hallway, though Mizore said nothing. Her stomach was becoming too unsteady, so she brought out a handkerchief to... steady herself? She didn’t know what good it would even do, but the soft touch and pleasant smell of it was comforting, such as it was.
Then the music stopped. Finally, Mizore could open her eyes and see only the faint tunes of nature, the pressure being lifted from her with the pace of a snail. Only now did she realize just how fast her heart was beating, the sound so rapid and small she could barely see the blood-red color of the sound. She gasped for air, trying to steady herself as much as she could, sweat flowing down her skin like tears.
Did you realize you deserved so much better than me, Nozomi? Was that why you left without even a word?
Mizore didn’t even hear the steps coming nearby until a surprised voice rang out in the hallway. The girl came near her, laid a hand on her shoulder and asked:
„Yoroizuka-senpai? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Mizore opened her eyes, pressing the handkerchief back on her mouth.
„I feel sick.” she replied flatly.
„Want to go to the nurse’s office? Though, I don’t know if it’s still open.” Her tone was the warm yellow of someone genuinely concerned at the sight front of her.
„No, it’s fine.”
„But, you look pale.”
„Don’t mind me.” Mizore said, standing back up, tears prickling at the edge of her eyes. With the sound of the flute gone, everything was more than fine. She breathed in deeply, calming herself down just a little bit more. The girl in front of her was one of the freshmen, the one who played her eupho in notes of dull amber and vibrant, secret violet. Mizore was about to thank her for the concern when the flute began being played again.
In one second, all the calmness she collected was destroyed.
„I’m going to vomit.” Mizore said, pressing the handkerchief again and passing by the freshman girl and down the staircase.
„You should take it easy.”
„I don’t want to hear this sound.” was all she said in a painful black tone, the girl disappearing from her mind as she descended down the stairs. Mizore didn’t want to speak anymore, didn’t want to risk seeing that color right now. It would have become too much.
Why did you leave, Nozomi? Why?
------------
The buttons on the touch screen passed on swiftly, emitting a color each time Mizore pressed it in time. Without sounds, it became a lot more difficult to be in tune with the rhythm of the song the game played, but she was practiced enough by now to take on the challenge. Its difficulty helped tire Mizore out, especially when she needed sleep quite badly.
When she could focus on something else, it became easier not to think of things too much.
The nearby door slides off and a girl - the freshman who saw her feeling sick - came outside of the building. Mizore remembered her name now. Oumae Kumiko took out a pair of white headphones, leaned on the fence above Mizore, and put them in her ears. Mizore didn’t mind, at first. Whatever music she played, it shouldn’t affect her game anyway.
Then the Minami band music began playing.
Mizore tried to ignore it as best she could and focus on the game. Second by second, however, the sound of that same flute made her miss more and more of the buttons in the game. The memories were like the strongest typhoon - a competition whether Mizore could survive them or not... just like band competitions, in a sense.
Mizore touched Oumae-chan’s foot to get her attention. The girl yelped in surprise when she saw her, probably not expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour.
„Please, turn that piece off.” said Mizore flatly. „I hate it.”
„Sorry.” Oumae-chan turned off the music immediately, then leaned on the fence closer to Mizore.
„Senpai, why are you here?”
„Rhythm games.” she replied, sitting back again at the bench. „I can’t sleep.”
Mizore gestured to her side. „Come sit.”
„Right.” was the uneasy response, delivered in a questioning, brown tone.
„You can play rhythm games without the audio?” asked Oumae-chan. Mizore ignored her question, for the moment trying to focus again on the game. Just for the moment, though.
„Hey, do you like competitions?” she asked.
„Huh?”
„I hate them. They end up depending on the judges’ tastes.”
„But I kind of think that’s how it has to be.” The tone was almost colorless, a tiny bit of a rebellious red inside it as if smothered.
How it has to be...
At this point, Mizore lost the last bit of focus she still had. Slowly, she turned her head to Oumae.
„How it has to be?” she asked, eliciting a scared, teal yell. „Even though it makes a lot of people miserable?” Even though it made Nozomi miserable?
„Sorry.” was the only reply Oumae had.
Mizore started at the smartphone screen for a few moments before speaking again, her voice as flat as always.
„I’m hurting. I wish competitions didn’t exist.”
„Then, like, why are you continuing with the band?” Oumae asked, more of that red laced with her question.
Why am I continuing with the band?
Nozomi holding her hand, a beautiful smile playing on her beautiful face. Silver for Minami Middle School. A promise in blood red notes.
„I don’t know.”
„Senpai?”
Nozomi’s empty chair. Mizore’s solitary reflection. The gold in the Kansai competition.
„I really don’t know anymore.”
What was the point? Nozomi had left so long ago...
Why am I still playing?
------------------
„Say, Taki-kun, are you satisfied with the oboe solo?”
Hashimoto-sensei rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable for saying this.
„I mean, you always sound great, and you’re always in tune.” He looked away. „But, honestly, it’s boring. It’s like a robot playing.”
„A robot?” Mizore asked, even though she realized in an instant that was the truth.
By now, Mizore had learned the color of most of the music members of the band was. Usually, they were simple, unremarkable colors on their own; when they all merge in harmony as a band, they become as strong as the band can make them be. It was the same as in any band, any piece of music played by a lot of people.
However, it was also easy to see when someone stood out. Their color was much more vibrant, almost lifelike in how they expanded across the room. The two tuba players had the pink of love permeating every single note; Tanaka-senpai’s was dominated by the deep sea blue, the longing in it only the barest bit noticeable; Oumae-chan’s unique contrast, shared by the solo trumpet, just opposite - hers was much more filled with violet, with only shades of a dusk amber color.
Even with the special cases, one thing that connected every single person in the room was that they had actual color in their tunes, whatever that may have been. Mizore, however, only technically had a color.
The color of her sound was a gray without emotion.
-------------
„Long time, no see, Mizore.” said a familiar voice, the color of the sound that special mix of green and blue hues that Mizore hadn’t seen for almost a year. Slowly, she stopped playing her oboe and turned her head to her right. She didn’t know why she did it, in truth. There was only one person who spoke to her like that, and taking a look would confirm it was real.
But, Mizore did look. Nozomi was standing in front of her, wearing that same summer uniform all the girls did and carrying that same, warm smile Mizore loved.
Tears welled up in her eyes in a second. It was like glass shattering, the thin defense broken down in millions of pieces and falling down to the floor in slow motion. It was like the typhoon finally breaking her, overwhelming her.
Mizore ran. She ran, ran, ran, not caring or knowing where she was going, not even able to see because nothing existed except for Nozomi in front of her, not hear anything but the desperate call of her name.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? WHYYYYYY?
A deserted classroom on the other side of the building, far away from anyone. A girl ran inside, not knowing, but instead hoping it was far enough. The space behind the desk was just enough to hide and curl into herself. Perfect. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe her thoughts would leave her, eventually. Maybe her mind would have mercy.
Maybe.
-----
Mizore didn’t hear the person approaching her. Nothing felt better, even though hours passed. Only when the person spoke, her voice a mixture of concern and confusion, did she realize she was found.
„Senpai?”
Mizore almost yelled out of surprise, hugging herself tighter even though her arms and legs were near white from the effort already.
„U-Um... what happened?”
No reply.
„Uh... Do you hate Nozomi-senpai?”
Hate Nozomi? Why would I ever hate Nozomi?
„I don’t hate her.” Mizore replied, the sharp red pain in her voice audible even to her. „That isn’t it.”
„Then, did she say something?” said the girl - Oumae-chan, if Mizore was correct - trying to be helpful without knowing how.
„No! No. It’s not her fault. It’s all my fault. It’s because I’m afraid to see Nozomi...” Mizore said, the words coming out of her in a flood even though she did not know why she could say them now.
„Why?”
„I’ll have to face reality.”
Oumae-chan winced in surprise.
„Reality?”
The past - everything that was bottled up inside her - was crashing and yelling and clamoring to be spoken, the ball already rolled and unstoppable. When she spoke next, Nozomi’s colors were laced together with the words she spoke like a string between two people.
„Nozomi is special to me. She’s a precious friend. I’m bad with people. I’m gloomy. I always had trouble making friends. I was always alone.”
Despite that, Nozomi made friends with me. I joined the concert band because Nozomi invited me.
I was so happy. Every day was so fun.”
Mizore sighed.
„But to Nozomi, I was just one of her friends. One of her many friends.”
„That isn’t...” Oumae-chan spoke, completely missing the mark.
„That’s why,” Mizore spoke more harshly, her breath hitching and the words becoming much, much more difficult to say, „I didn’t even know when she quit the club! I was the only one who hadn’t known! She hadn’t even talked to me about it.
I am afraid to learn I’d never meant much to her.
I don’t know. Why? I don’t know why I’m even in the concert band still...”
„Th-then...” Oumae-chan asked, her words scathing even though they weren’t meant to be, „why are you still playing?”
Mizore composed herself for a moment before saying anything. She knew the answer from the start, though that made everything hurt all the more.
„My instrument... my instrument is the only thing connecting me to Nozomi.”
It is the only thing I had left of her.
There was no reply from Oumae-chan. Mizore knew there was nothing to say to something like that.
After a minute of total silence, the classroom door slid open. Oumae-chan spoke Yuuko’s name, so it must have been her that entered.
„Mizore! Mizore! Mizore!” Hands came down onto her shoulders. Mizore looked up enough to see Yuuko’s face in front of her.
„What are you doing? You worried me.” Her words carried the same yellow of concern, only so vibrant and strong it threatened to blind Mizore.
„Sorry.”
„Are you still afraid to talk to Nozomi?” Yuuko asked, not wasting any time. Mizore simply nodded, the words inside her like weights threatening to crush her, but coming out all the same in between sobs.
„Nozomi is... the only one I have. What if she rejects me, Yuuko? What if she rejects me?”
What if I truly am someone she never cared about? What if the truth is that she realized she deserved so much better than what I am?
„How... how can you say that?” Yuuko asked. The shock in her voice was something Mizore didn’t expect.
„So what if she does? What am I to you, Mizore? Am I not your friend?”
„Yuuko... I thought you simply pitied me... and that’s why you were nice to me...” Even as Mizore said those, she realized they were wrong, so wrong that she couldn’t look Yuuko into her eyes as she said that.
Before she could say anything more, Yuuko pressed her hands on her cheeks and spoke:
„You idiot! Are you seriously that stupid?”
„Yuuko...”
„I’m going to seriously snap soon! Why would I hang out with someone I hate? Yuuko asked. The shock in her voice had merged together with a strange kind of anger that was not truly angry and fondness Mizore heard in her voice before but could never believe it was real. White, red and green meshed together, one overlapping the other almost at random, creating fractals out of her words that, if someone could see it like Mizore, would be stunned by their beauty.
That is, if Yuuko wasn’t streching and squishing her cheeks, which hurt, though not a lot.
„Do you really think I’m that smooth? Pity? What the hell, Mizore? You don’t see me as your friend? Are you serious?”
Yuuko’s actions made them both lose balance. Mizore was now completely lying on the floor, a furious-looking Yuuko on top of her.
„And that’s not all! Were you seriously playing in the band just for Nozomi? You practiced so hard for the competition and you didn’t even care? We won in Kyoto and made it to Kansai and you weren’t even happy?”
She paused for a second, her voice becoming much softer without any more trace of anger when she spoke again.
„I was happy! I was glad I worked so hard! That my effort wasn’t wasted! I felt I’d been freed from something that held me back since middle school!”
A tear fell down on Mizore’s cheek.
„Didn’t you? Didn’t you feel anything, Mizore?”
Happy faces. Rainbows from everyone’s voices, tears of joy because they made it!
Was I happy? Was I... I...
„I was happy, Yuuko, but... I felt as much guilt for all those who quit last year...”
I felt guilty because Nozomi wasn’t there, because now both of us broke our blood-red promise.
„I didn’t know if I should be happy...” How could I? How could I?
Yuuko didn’t care to let her think about it more, taking Mizore by her wrists and pulling her up until they were both sitting upright.
„Of course you should, you idiot! Of course you should! So smile!” she said, smiling widely herself. It made Mizore realize how much of an idiot she truly was.
Idiot. Yes, that is an apt way to describe me, after all of this.
It was enough to make her to cry as if the tears were rain falling down from her eyes.
They stayed like that for a while, Yuuko voicing her confusion as to why Mizore was even crying. She was glad, so glad for Yuuko now, glad that Yuuko wasn’t just pitying her, but a friend, another friend.
Another friend!
That one thing was almost enough to completely dispel the ravenous gloom in her mind. Things were so much better now that Mizore knew she could rely on someone else, so much so the little sounds she could hear and see seemed just a little bit more vibrant.
Then the door opened for the third time that day. Oumae-chan spoke Nozomi’s name, as if she was the one who entered, and Yuuko took a look as well before repeating her name. She turned her head back to Mizore and said, her tone so light red it was almost pink:
„You should talk to her properly, Mizore.”
------------
„Asuka-senpai told me I should bring you this.” Nozomi said, gesturing with the oboe in her hands. The reason why still eluded her in the same way it eluded her why Mizore was acting like this at the mere sight of her.
It hurt more than Nozomi thought it could, an icy rainstorm over her heart.
„Did I do something to upset you?” she asked, hoping it was the right question to ask. „I’m so stupid... I honestly don’t remember.”
The silence, even though it lasted only a few heartbeats, still filled her with fear.
„Why? Why didn’t you tell me when you quit the band?” Mizore spoke, her words overflowing with pain.
Why is she asking that? Wasn’t it obvious?
„Because I didn’t need to.” Nozomi replied. Mizore’s face turned from sad to looking as if question marks were glowing all over it, which surprised Nozomi in turn.
„You were working so hard. Even when I was grumpy and no one was practicing, you were practicing by yourself.
How was I supposed to ask you to quit with me?”
As she said those words, looking at Mizore’s expression, something clicked inside her mind. Oh no...
„That’s why you never told me?”
„Yes.” Here it was. „Did you think I left you out?
The tears that broke out of Mizore’s eyes were all the confirmation Nozomi needed.
„No!” she yelled out, reaching out to Mizore with her hands, on the inside angry at herself for letting this happen. „That’s so not it! That isn’t what I...
Mizore, sorry! I am so sorry!”
Mizore was shaking her head, puzzling Nozomi until she spoke in a low voice:
„I’m sorry.”
„Why are you apologizing?” What could possibly be there for you to apologize for?
„I was avoiding you...” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks again, „I made mistake. I was so scared! I’m sorry!”
Oh, Mizore. Why did I let this happen?
„Mizore!” No response.
„Mizore!” Nozomi shook her for good measure, but it didn’t help. She had to find something else to say, quick. Letting it stay like this would be a disaster, something that was absolutely not allowed to happen. Finding the right words in such quick fashion was so difficult, though. She searched through her memories to find something, anything that could be used, when a possibility struck her.
„Hey, Mizore? I went to watch the Kyoto Competition.”
The tears slowed down to a trickle before disappearing entirely.
„When I heard your solo... You were so badass that I had chills all over my body!”
Mizore looked up, hope and disbelief in her beautiful, cherry-red eyes.
„Really?
„Yes, really! I’ve always loved, ever since I heard you play in middle school, how you play the oboe.”
Nozomi held out the oboe for Mizore, happy inside that this was going well. Mizore took it with such a gentle touch and hugged it, it made Nozomi’s hear swell. It was such a cute, endearing sight that it reminded her of why did she decide to become the friend of a girl everyone avoided for being a gloomy, unapproachable introvert.
„When I think of you playing the oboe, I get just so excited. I want to hear you play it, Mizore!”
Mizore’s body became temporarily overcome by sobs, which made Nozomi question if she said the right thing. Soon, however, they stopped, and Mizore raised her face to her. Although her eyes were still tear-filled, the smile on her face was so beautiful, so full of happiness that it looked to Nozomi as if the world became a lot more colorful because of it.
„I want you to hear me play it too.” she said, her voice matching her smile.
---------------
Later, they found a place for themselves at school without anyone nearby. Mizore was ready - her stand, the note sheets, her oboe were in perfect condition and place - and she readied to play. Nozomi was right beside her, shoulder to shoulder, which gave her extra warmth.
Spring green. Deep ocean blue. When she saw the color of her sound, as well as Nozomi’s enchanted expression, Mizore smiled even wider. Everything was finally right.
Right enough that she could finally admit to herself that pink was among those colors, tracing a path through the melody as she accepted that she loved Nozomi with all the immensity of an ocean and all the strength of a typhoon.
---------------
„Tell me.” said Nozomi as they ate the two pieces of cake that were supposed to be orders in a deserted hallway. „What color is my voice to you?”
Mizore looked up at her in surprise and gulped, the bit of cake on her fork falling down on the floor. Quickly, she ducked down and began cleaning it up before Nozomi could see the blush that was burning on her face.
„Sorry.” she said when she was done with the cleaning.
„It’s okay.” Nozomi replied, putting a hand on Mizore’s shoulder. „I’m sorry to have sprung this up all of a sudden. I knew for a long time about your synesthesia, b-but it never occurred to me, until now, that you must see people’s voices like that too. S-So...” she looked away, looking like words got stuck in her throat.
Was it just Mizore, or did Nozomi’s cheeks also have a tint of red on them?
„S-So I became curious for myself.” Nozomi let out, almost too fast to understand. She took a bite of her cake and swallowed it far too quickly. Her usual ensemble of colors included a hint of orange, as if she was embarrassed about something. After all, if there was anyone here who was supposed to be stumbling along their words, it was Mizore, after all.
„Y-You...” Do I tell her about the pink do I tell her do I tell her do I tell her do I tell her no I can’t I can’t I can’t, „You are the green of nature and dark blue of the ocean, Nozomi. I wish I could show you how beautiful your voice truly is.”
The blush on Nozomi’s cheek became more prominent, but she looked back straight at Mizore, her eyes radiating with the same happiness as her smile.
„Thank you. I wish I could see it, too, but...”
„But?” asked Mizore, tilting her head. What „but” could there even be?
She thought it was impossible, but Nozomi’s smile grew even wider.
„I am more than happy enough that you can see it.”
---------------
When she got home alone and laid down on her bed, Mizore couldn’t stop thinking about Nozomi’s words.
I am more than happy enough that you can see it.
On its own, that statement wasn’t anything special or new. With genuine sincerity, it was something that would make anyone in the world happy. But, that wasn’t what made Mizore replay the scene over and over in her mind.
Just for one second, the pink in Nozomi’s voice was so powerful that it overwhelmed everything else, as if she was holding the emotion locked inside herself but it broke out whether she wanted it to or not. Seeing it in such a manner... Mizore smiled.
She wanted to see it again, and again, and again.
--------------
When Nozomi suggested a sleepover at her house, Mizore was nothing if not ecstatic, a wide smile on her face as she walked with a spry step right beside her best friend. Other students milled about on the lunch break, everyone’s winter uniforms accented with protective winter clothes. Nozomi herself had a pretty, green-and-blue checkered scarf around her neck and a matching hat.
„What should I bring?” she asked Nozomi, a bright, happy red seeping into her usual tone. „A change or two of clothes, some food, my sleeping bag? Maybe some movies? Games? What do you think, Nozomi?”
„Hmmmm.” Nozomi put a finger on her chin. „You should bring the essential things like clothes and toiletries definitely. Your oboe too, if you want to play with me. Nothing else is strictly necessary, but I’d love to see what movies you’d bring! Though... I-If you’re o-okay with that...”
Mizore tilted her head, looking at Nozomi with a burning curiosity, though Nozomi couldn’t meet her gaze, her cheeks flushed pink.
„With what?”
„My... my bed is large enough for us t-two, i-if you wanna share...”
Mizore’s eyes widened from the surprise. Even without much experience in friendship, she knew this was not a regular thing to suggest. Given Nozomi’s embarrassed face and the orange notes in her words, it must mean a lot to her to suggest it.
„I’m okay with that.” Mizore replied, trying to convey with her voice more than with words how happy she was with that suggestion. And she was happy - one of her little dreams would soon become reality, which was more than enough for her.
„Okay!” Nozomi practically yelled out, pink affection in her tone and a huge smile on her face. „I’m so happy you’re okay with that! Let’s meet up on Friday after school, then! Oh, I just can’t wait for it to finally arrive!”
Mizore giggled at Nozomi’s cute little ramble.
„I can’t wait either.”
---------
„Nozomi!”
Nozomi froze at her name being called out in what she thought was an empty hallway, the voice cold and fierce. She turned around and saw Yuuko standing only a few feet away from her, her stance as impassive as her face.
„Yuuko? What do you want?” she asked uncertainly.
„I’ll just say this swiftly and clearly.” she said and pointed a finger at Nozomi.
”I’ve seen your actions around Mizore. You’re always hanging out with her now, buddying up with her as if nothing happened before. She’s too lovestruck to think suspiciously of you in any way, but I don’t have any such regard for you. Simply put, I don’t trust you with her.”
Yuuko clearly finished her little speech, every word spoken like ice enveloping Nozomi until she could barely breathe, until her body huddled into itself and her eyes were planted firmly on the floor. Her first instinct was to fight, to argue her statements for hours. How could Yuuko even imply that Nozomi would hurt Mizore again? How dared she?
But Nozomi knew full well why. She didn’t trust herself either.
„I hurt her. I hurt her so much and I didn’t even know. It’s not something that I can ever erase... but, maybe I can make it better, eventually, somehow...”
Silence. Total silence for what felt like a long time before self-satisfied chuckles echoes across the hallway. Nozomi looked up only to see a smug smile plastered all over Yuuko’s face.
„You passed the test, Nozomi. I wanted to see if you were truly sorry for what you did, and I think this is evidence enough. I still don’t trust you, but I am willing to give you a chance.” Her expression became impassive in an instant again.
„But if you do hurt her, Nozomi... whatever happens, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” Yuuko said and, without another glance, left the premises.
Nozomi nodded to no one, safe with the knowledge that whatever Yuuko or anyone else did, they would never be able to match what she’d do to herself if she hurt Mizore again.
----------------
By the end of the movie, Nozomi was clutching Mizore in a bear-tight hug, barely able to watch it and hiding herself behind Mizore’s hair. It was so cute, the way she acted like she needed some sort of protection from the things happening on screen, and that Mizore would be able to give it to her. Every so often, Nozomi would whisper into her ear that she didn’t understand how Mizore could ever enjoy these kinds of movies.
Truthfully, Mizore herself didn’t know why she loved stuff like Battle Royale. Maybe it was something outside of her influence, or she simply liked them without a reason. Whatever it was, this time, there was something else she liked about them.
Mizore glanced beside her to get a better view of Nozomi, still looking at the screen with frightened fascination. Her body was so warm, much better than all the blankets they covered themselves with. There was more of cute bashfulness from Nozomi as they got in the bed, but Mizore had no idea why even if she liked seeing it. They were close friends, no? It was pretty cold, with heavy snow falling outside, the whole horizon a blanket white interspersed with the occasional black of a road. There should have been no reason to feel so embarrassed.
„We can always stop watching it and switch to something else if you want to?” Mizore said.
„Really?” Nozomi asked, her voice full of white notes of surprise. The next moment, however, her face scrunched up as if she did something wrong, an uneasy smile on her lips.
„I mean, if that’s okay with you, Mizore.” she said, her voice much more subdued. Mizore smiled and nodded.
„Even if I hadn’t seen it already, I’d rather we did something else if you aren’t having fun. You are more important to me than any movie, Nozomi.”
Silence fell between them, no movement from either even as the movie went on. Mizore turned her head, a bit unsettled by the non-existant response, when the breath on her shoulder turned to breath at her jawline and rainfall blue eyes stared at her in a way that made her shiver, unreadable yet full of warmth. Paper-thin was the distance between their faces. Mizore thought she could see every detail on Nozomi’s face, from a tiny birthmark near her left eye to how soft her lips looked.
Nozomi was as beautiful as all the colors Crescent Moon Dance could evoke.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nozomi took the remote and shut down the TV. Without a word, in perfect sync, they lied down a bit more in the bed and took each others hands. It was something from a dream, how the whole atmosphere changed so quickly and so intimately. If it could have been turned to music, Mizore was certain she’d have been overwhelmed by the pink.
„Can we stay like this for a while, Mizore?” asked Nozomi, tracing lines on the palm of Mizore’s hand.
„Yes.” she replied, ending up overwhelmed anyway because the pink of Nozomi’s voice was the most vibrant, beautiful one she had ever seen.
Lying down like this, their eyes locked like in a trance, their breathing matched alongside their loud heartbeats, Mizore became certain. It had been plaguing her the entire time since they got back together - the uncertainty of how Nozomi felt about her, how Mizore still was just one blip in an ocean of people, how easily she could be replaced. Sometimes, even though everything was better, even though Mizore was in the best shape of her life, sometimes... she wanted nothing more than for Nozomi to realize Mizore was not worth it, that she deserved so much better.
„Nozomi?”
„Yes?”
„Thank you, Nozomi.”
„What for?” Nozomi asked, puzzled.
„For this. For everything. I couldn’t be happier than I am right now.” Mizore tried her hardest to show just how happy she was, lacing it was much as she could with her voice.
„I’m glad, Mizore.” Nozomi replied, her voice slightly shaky. Her eyes filled up with tears and a sad smile played on her face.
„What’s wrong?” Mizore asked, tilting her head in confusion.
„It’s just that...” Nozomi spoke, so obviously trying to keep her voice calm and collected that it made Mizore’s heart ache. „I hurt you so much and I didn’t even realize for the longest time. How long till that happens again? How long until I hurt you again? How long until you realize I am not someone who you can trust?”
For a long while, Mizore was silent, processing Nozomi’s words before she blurted out:
„But... I thought you would be the one to realize I wasn’t worth your time, that you could do better than me?”
The shock on Nozomi’s face at these words turned into utter anger, her voice as furious as the bloodthirsty combatants of that movie. She squeezed Mizore’s hands tight and spoke, the angry red so interspersed with pink Mizore had no idea which color began or ended where:
„How could you ever think I would do such a thing? How can you think of yourself so low and of myself so high that I could do better?”
Her hands left Mizore’s, instead rushing to embrace her around the neck and pressing Mizore into the tightest, yet most comfortable hug she had ever experienced.
„Mizore!”
„Yes?”
„Don’t ever say something like that again!” Nozomi spoke with such intensity her voice could barely keep steady. „I don’t ever want to leave your side. You are perfect, Mizore. You are so perfect that I cannot even begin to describe it. I wish I was a poet instead of a musician so that I could find the words necessary.”
She brought back her head a bit and rested it so their foreheads were touching.
„So, please, Mizore! Don’t say anything like that again!”
Mizore blinked once and nodded. This wasn’t what she thought was going to happen today. In truth, even though she sometimes daydreamed that it could really be true, that Nozomi actually loved her back, it just didn’t seem to be possible. She was content, as happy as a flower child in a flower field, to stay at her side as a friend if that was possible.
But now? She accepted the truth that was appearing before her eyes. Whatever she thought of herself, whatever Nozomi thought of herself, that was less important. They could work on that. They had a whole life ahead of them for that. They could make each other better.
„I promise.” she said, placing a finger on Nozomi’s lips when she looked ready to speak again. She touched Nozomi’s nose with her own before slowly removing her finger from those soft lips.
The „I love you” got messed up somewhere in the kiss, and then the next one, and the next one. Mizore just couldn’t help herself, trying to say it at the same time as kissing her love. But, she knew Nozomi understood it. Mizore’s eyes reflected the same emotion Nozomi’s did, after all.
Eventually, they had to take a little breather, their faces flushed red from the kissing. Nozomi was the first to recover, her expression falling into one of purest happiness, a genuine smile playing on her face. When she spoke, it was like the most beautiful rainbow, all the emotions pouring out of her voice, with the spring green and ocean blue particularly vibrant alongside the pink:
„I love you too, Mizore.”