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“Uhm... Chisato? You’re drunk.”
Aya opens the door to her apartment slowly, not quite giving Chisato the amount of space she needs to enter. Not that she doesn’t want to let Chisato in, but it’s rare to see the other girl swaying like she is, holding on to the doorframe to keep herself upright. It’s kind of worrying, and Aya’s thinking that if she sees Chisato be like this for an extended period of time, she’ll never be able to take her seriously again.
“Nonsense, Aya, dear. Now, would you let me in?”
It’s also only 5PM, Aya realises. Getting a slightly tipsy text from Chisato telling her she has to keep hydrated and she’s so important and has to remember it (hashtag pastel positivity) at around midnight is one thing, but this is before Aya’s settled down for the evening in the first place. It’s not like she hasn’t been for afternoon mimosas, and 11 in the morning mimosas, with Chisato before, but at least then she’s always remained in control, and been the sheer queen she always is.
Like this, Chisato is kinda... pathetic? Kinda— cute too, almost, Aya catches herself thinking. Is she allowed to think that? Beautiful, yes, and charming, of course, and Aya can’t take her eyes off her sometimes—but cute? It feels like she’s saying something sorta taboo.
“Uh, sure! Let me clean up—“
“That won’t be necessary. Do I look like the kind of woman who judges others based on the cleanliness of their apartment?”
“...you have before.”
“That’s because they weren’t you, Aya.”
...those are powerful words.
Powerful enough that Aya finally does as she’s told, and opens the door— not wide, but open enough that Chisato can totter in on her heels, looming above her in them. Aya wonders how Chisato can even walk in those, let alone halfways dance, but she can, and she does.
“You, uh... want some help?”
Well, most of the time. Right now, Aya is reaching out to her, preparing to grab hold and keep her upright if Chisato slips as she crosses over the raised step of the doorway.
“Hm? I’m fine, Aya. You worry too much,” and Chisato smiles at her, so soothing, so utterly peaceful that Aya almost wonders how she could have ever suspected Chisato was anything but sober.
—until she half-trips while sliding off her heels, and Aya almost squeals in response, trying to hold her up the best she can. Her arms are raised - wait, hold up, is Chisato’s boob gonna land there if I let her actually fall? - and her body is ready, but when Chisato falls, her hands are on Aya, grasping her shoulder and bracing against her to keep stable.
“You’re taking this far too serious--“
“I’m going to get you some water,” Aya interjects, with more than hint of concern in her voice; but in response, Chisato simply giggles.
“Oh no, I’m quite full. I don’t need to drink anything else now.”
“Water’d help!”
“Don’t be silly, darling. All I need right now is your sofa...” Chisato tells her, daintily pushing Aya deeper into her own apartment — and Aya feels obliged to lead her there, Chisato’s hand on her shoulder and her body close to hers. That warm, lime-tinged breath is pressing up against her ear in a way that feels a little intimate, to a degree that makes Aya shiver, but— if she tries to pull away too much, Chisato might stumble. She just has to grin and bear it. Even though it’s, y’know, not all that bad.
Chisato’s been around her place a few times, now – never anything too special, normally with Hina accompanying her/dragging her along either on a completely unprompted and unscheduled home visit, or as a brief check-in before they go out for the night. It's not Chisato’s first time visiting by herself, either, but-- it’s the first time she's been here, alone, unprompted, like this.
She seems to be in a pretty decent mood, at least, and not putting up much of a fight as Aya leads her stumblingly to her couch, Chisato seemingly having no actual issues with standing up straight as she lets go of her support and elegantly parks her butt on the seat. Way better behaved than when you get a drunk turning up at Smile Burger halfway through the afternoon, that’s for sure.
"Thank you very much," Chisato tells her, and now she's safe and sound, Aya immediately hurries off to the kitchen to grab some water for her. "Oh, what've you got for drinks?"
"Water."
"You said that earlier. Anything else?"
"Uh... you like sparkling water?"
"I see your fridge is quite limited." This isn't true, but Aya's decided to keep firm to her offerings. She doubts the peach-flavoured barely-alcoholic cans of drink in there would be something Chisato'd be into (not strong enough, for one thing); then again, water probably isn’t either, because Aya never actually hears Chisato ask for any. It doesn't matter, because she's going to get some anyway!
Sparkling water, she eventually decides on, just in case the bubbles trick Chisato into drinking it.
When Aya returns and places the glass down on the table in front of the actress, Chisato raises her eyebrows, reaches forwards, takes the smallest possible sip, and then puts it back down. Aya appreciates the gesture, but maybe not the stubbornness behind it; and in return, takes a huge swig of her glass.
--and the she remembers that she doesn't even like sparkling water. She doesn't know why she has it in the house and her throat hurts and it sucks and she can tell Chisato's watching her mildly strained face with a slightly mean chuckle.
"You too," Aya sputters, gesturing towards the glass - if she's going to put herself through that, she expects solidarity!
"I told you earlier, Aya, I'm full. A host has to read the mood as much as her guests!"
"Well, it's there if you need it, right?” She knows she’s probably not going to win a straight-up battle of willpower, so. “What've you been out doing, anyway?" From where Aya's standing, she's just genuinely a bit worried about Chisato - once the inherent funniness and cuteness fades away, the matter remains that Chisato's not just gotten drunk (that happens often enough, from Aya's understanding, especially if mimosas and margaritas are on hand), but has decided to actually show Aya this side of her. That's not something that just happens, Aya feels.
Looking at her-- Chisato's well made up. Nothing's running, nothing looks out of place, so she hasn't been crying - not that Aya's really sure Chisato would, but she's just talking from her own perspective here. Her dress is fancy, at least, but not so fancy that it looks like her parents told her wear it to look pretty for the cameras, so -- presumably it was something more personal. A bad lunch - bad late lunch, maybe, it's 5PM - or even worse, family afternoon together out with the Setas? Though considering the suffocating showbiz society she’s been born into, Aya has the suspicion that Chisato secretly can't stand a majority of the families she has to smile and play the role of the Shirasagi's darling daughter in front of.
“...oh, well. This and that. You know. The parts of being me that sadly don’t involve the band,” Chisato says, after a bit of a pause. She’s the guarded type, after all, even if she’s not quite careful enough to totally hide her affection toward Pastel Palettes when she’s drunk.
It’s not very specific, though, and the gossipy half of Aya’s brain craves juicy bits.
“Oh… work, then? Was it recording, or-- oh, were you auditioning--”
“Aya, darling, it really doesn’t matter.” The smile on Chisato’s face shifts just a little bit, the corners of her mouth a little flatter and her lips pursed a little tighter, in the way that means she’s gone from ‘open for discussion’ to ‘the matter is closed’.
For her part, Aya thinks it does matter. Not only because every single problem she comes up against ends up broadcast to her entire friend group and the world and she just wants a little equality, darn it, but because part of her would really appreciate if Chisato opened up a little more. She gets that she’s been brought up not to ever moan - like some kind of yamato nadeshiko except with a bottomless credit card and a dislike of wearing anything shorter than kitten heels - but it makes it so much harder to see Chisato as one of the girls, sometimes?
….harder to feel like she’s worthy of having a drunk Chisato, slightly shifting from side to side as she pretends to not be very tipsy, on her sofa. Give her something to work with here, c’mon…
“In fact, what have you been up to?” It’s small talk, and a distraction on top of that, but Chisato makes sure to look Aya right in her eyes as she says it. It’s the kind of look that grabs you, that makes you open right up to her. “Anything planned for the evening?”
"Uh, not much! Just, mm... so, there's this idol group I've been following a while? They've been underground for a while, but they got signed lately! I mean, not to a big label or anything, just a kind of niche one, but---" Aya stutters her way through her explanation, vaguely gesturing to symbolise how five random girls from Hakata she's never met can mean a lot to her. "So they're doing weekly streams right now! I missed the last one, but, uh, this week, since we didn’t have any bookings..."
"You want to make sure to support them, don't you?" Aya stops awkwardly waving when Chisato gives her this sorta-tacit approval, and lets herself break out in a smile.
"Yeah, exactly! Um, Chisato, do you want to want to watch it with me...?" The smile tries its best to stay intact, but Aya can't help but feel at least a little bit awkward. Being in Pasupare has given her a wealth of new experiences, but 'convincing a very pretty and very drunk girl to watch idol Nico streams with you' is a new one. "They're really good! I mean, they've been training nearly as long as I had to, and they've got this one absolute banger, and they're all so cute, and one of them is--"
"I'm sure they're not as cute as you."
Chisato smiles at her, and Aya has no idea what face she's making in response. The smile from before is sort of still there, kind of, a bit, maybe? Or maybe it's been lost in the convulsions of her face, lips losing their fucking shit as she tries to decide on a reaction.
"Thhhhhhank you?" she stutters out, Chisato as implacable as ever when she gives her response. That smile - that pretty, perfect smile of hers, ingrained in her since birth, trained into her every day of her conscious life - doesn't even shift. Their eyes are somehow still looking right into each other, and Aya feels like congratulating herself on managing to hold this gaze, even as she wants to scream.
"Have a little confidence, now." Aya is trying. She doesn't tell Chisato as much, but she is. "Or compliment me in return~"
"I've... never seen you take a compliment seriously."
"Hm? But I'm very susceptible to them."
"You’re pretty blatantly not.”
“It’s like you don’t even know me!”
“Fine, then why do you get so annoyed about Kaoru--"
"Because she isn't you," Chisato tells her, right to her face, before leaning in, so close that Aya can see those gorgeous eyelashes and the sexy way her lips part, to the point she’s on the border of screaming, until Chisato collapses onto her shoulder. "If you said those things, then..."
Aya doesn’t scream, but she does squeak.
"If I did... the exact same thing?" Aya hasn't ever worn a suit. Should she try it out?
"Oh, no, not like that," Chisato giggles. "Not like her. You'd have a much more attractive way of doing it, if you did do it." Her head is still buried quite deep into Aya's shoulder, gently rocking from side to side, and it's enough to make Aya freeze. What is she meant to say here? It'd be one thing if Chisato was sober, but she is incredibly not, and if she was, would she have said any of this in the first place?
Probably not, huh.
...lil’ bit of a shame. Aya wouldn’t mind if she did.
“You kinda make a lot of exceptions for me.”
“Mm?” Chisato finally raises her head from the apparently comforting warmth of Aya’s shoulder, looking a little confused at the statement. “How so?”
“Like, how it’s okay my room is a mess, or if call you, uh… a beautiful kitten--” For this, Aya receives a literal slap on the wrist from Chisato, though the very limp-wristed way she delivers it makes it feel more like a soft, reassuring tap. Oh. Maybe it is that.
“Oh, god, please don’t. Different things, Aya. All very different.”
“Okay, if I just call you a beautiful woman.”
…apparently that’s the sort of thing that Chisato is ‘susceptible’ to, because as soon as she says it, the actress collapses right back onto her shoulder. (In return, Aya’s heartrate shoots right up – is that that ‘law of thermodynamics’ thing Hina was trying to explain to her the other day?)
“I think… I think looking at it in terms of ‘exceptions’, and all that, you’re getting the wrong idea.” The probably-actually-a-tap-and-not-a-slap happens again, and this time Chisato lets her hand linger on Aya’s, fingertips finding a nice gap between two of her knuckles to grasp onto. “It’s more a matter of who I accept for those things. Who I want to see and hear them from.” Her hair is slipping off her shoulder and hanging down over her cheek, and it’s making it even harder for Aya to read her expression… though to be fair, she wasn’t really achieving that in the first place. “Which means you… qualify for them, I suppose? Goodness, don’t I sound picky.”
A bit, Aya thinks, but for once that pickiness isn’t directed at finding fault in her. In fact, it’s the opposite, and that’s affirmative in a way that’s probably pretty toxic, but to just get this much actual honest-to-god praise from Chisato feels so good that she doesn’t even care.
Wow. She’s drunk.
“I’m, uhm… flattered. Seriously.” Aya’s free hand fiddles in her lap, grabbing at and bunching up her skirt.
“And in that case, Aya, how do you see me?” Bearing in mind that Aya currently can’t really see her. “Are we aligned, here?”
“I don’t really have the same kind of, um, standards you do.” It’d be hard to, really! Chisato’s the best of the best, and she’s just here because-- well, because of everyone else in Pastel Palettes, it feels like. The bad part of all of them frequently having reasons to remember that they are, in fact, a team is that Aya’s own few achievements only feel possible because everyone else was there, which is lovely in theory but feels a little bit depressing in practice.
“You don’t have to to feel the same way. In fact, it’s probably easier if you don’t.”
“You just make me sound like I’m easy!”
“You’re not?” Oh, no, never mind, copious alcohol in her system or not, this absolutely is Shirasagi Chisato in front of her, as bitchy as they come.
“I’m not…”
And yet, that almost makes Aya feel a little-- better. It’s one thing to hear Chisato saying nice things about her, but at the same time, she wants it to be Chisato saying those things. And it wouldn’t be the girl she admires, finds charming and wonderful and gorgeous and honestly hot, without at least a few insults thrown her way.
This is how you get into being a masochist, isn’t it, she wonders.
“...I mean, putting all of that aside, though… Uhm. I… think the world of you, Chisato. I love all my friends a lot, but… you’ve done more for me than most? When we were starting out, or with Ayumi, you always made sure I had something to aim for… some kind of purpose, I guess?”
“Even when I was scapegoating you all?”
“I mean… it made me take the lead!” This earns a titter from Chisato that’s just poorly timed enough that it makes Aya feel the teensiest bit annoyed. “I did it, though! I even won you around!” she tells Chisato, raising her voice just a little to match her puffed-out cheeks.
“You did. My starting point, and all.”
“The band? Well, we’re all--”
“You.”
--Aya can’t decide if that’s meant to be a flirt or a pure statement of emotional reliance, and also can’t decide if the latter’s really just the same as the former in a lot of ways.
“Um.”
Her fist stops moving mid-dress-balling-up, and now Aya decides to not even look in the vague direction of Chisato’s face. It’s all too much.
“You might not realise it, because it comes so naturally to you, but you’re a natural when it comes to making people open up, Aya. You’ve got that winning charm to you, more than the others - Hina’s told you as much to your face, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah, but that’s Hina.”
“And this is me, too. You… help me to take first step after first step, on roads I’ve barely thought of - like my start, Aya.”
“Mm.” Her face is as pink as her hair, and for all that talk of confidence, Aya can’t force out a coherent sentence for the life of her right now. “That’s… yeah, that’s…. I mean, we’re, thank you?”
“The start of something, I felt.” And with that, Chisato leans right in; off Aya’s shoulder, and now barely a few inches from her face, that earlier gaze from her that was so good at opening people up now making Aya freeze completely up. “Something beyond - us as bandmates, and us as friends. Of course, it was only a thought, but I like to follow things through as much as you do.” Her gaze expects a proper answer, as she looks up at Aya, almost pleading with her.
Whether Aya considers herself shorter than Chisato at any time has to generally do with the height of Chisato’s heels, but right now is the first time she’s realised she’s taller in a way that feels like her mind’s totally taking it in. Chisato has no choice but to look up at her, and Aya can only look down.
Look down at the girl who kind of feels like she’s definitely asking if they’re more than friends, and who she’s responding to by making a thousand different variations on the noise “aah.”
First, is Chisato-- sober enough to have this conversation? Well, that’s an absolute no. Secondly, is she in a mindset where she’s treating what she’s saying with the gravitas it deserves? She came back from an afternoon spent doing something vaguely and ambiguously unpleasant that she won’t explain, and showed up at Aya’s door, and frankly Aya doesn’t even live in a gentrified enough part of town that Chisato would be lunching anywhere near it, so she must have come here with intent --
Maruyama Aya must be the worst kind of idol, she thinks to herself, seeing as she only vaguely considers that wishy-washy rule about idols not having relationships after weighing up the way more important first two matters. That kind of thing doesn’t matter when there’s-- real love involved, right?
So iit’s a shame that the first two are getting in the way of how she wants to respond.
But as Chisato grows closer still, and Aya’s mind starts to wander, and even dream, she does the right thing. Which is still lame.
“I don’t… I don’t really want to give you an answer to all this when you’re drunk.” And something clearly happened earlier, even if you’re not telling me, and I know you’re still thinking about it.
“…ah. Mm.” Chisato’s voice quietens, and her gaze lowers – the hand that’s been rubbing up Aya’s for a while now stops, and after what seems like a few moments of quiet consideration, moves away, though not so far that Aya can’t still feel her fingertips brushing against her skin.
For once in her life, Chisato looks kinda borderline contrite, and Aya’s a little bit amazed (and also a little bit turned on by it—oh, god, that’s a whole other weird realisation that needs a bunch of soulsearching to justify). “No, that’s fair. Very fair.”
“But when you’re, uh, more with it, we can…” Her hands bounce around a little in the air, trying to hopefully communicate what she means through the medium of very interpretative mime. Chisato tends to be pretty sharp and perceptive, after all, so if anyone can figure out what ‘waggling hands in midair while pulling a faintly concerned face’ means on a deeper level, it should be her—
“We can what?” The tone of the reply isn’t even teasing ; because Aya could deal with that; Chisato just sounds… genuinely unsure, and maybe even expectant. She’s looking at her again, now, like she’s watching Aya for that response. Is she maybe—hanging on this answer? No way. Nah.
“…we can….” Come on, Aya wills her, Chisato, please, fill it in for me – but when Chisato still just looks at her, kind of—dumbly, really, Aya swallows her shame and goes for it. “We can have this conversation again.”
“And then?”
“…you’re way too drunk,” Aya tells her, and this time Chisato does laugh, the inquisitive stare turning into a warm smile. Which is fair, but it doesn’t make Aya any less right.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“I am! Have some faith in me!”
“I have nothing but the utmost.” Chisato doesn’t quite de-slump herself, but she does lie back, indulging in the softness of the sofa. Aya isn’t sure if she’ll even still be awake by the time the stream starts, but at least this way she’ll be able to take a cute pic of Chisato pleasantly asleep and put it on the PP IG; or maybe not, actually, because does Aya really want to share the sight of Chisato napping on her couch with the rest of the world when she could just savour it herself—
“You’re thinking awfully hard about something.”
“Uh, maybe.” She snaps back to reality, realising that she’s been looking pretty intensely at a still mostly awake Chisato for the last few seconds, and more than that, realising that Chisato’s reaching out a hand towards her face. When did that get there? What’s she even trying to do with that? That pretty hand that looks like it’s never worked a day in her life, going right to her cheek – and touching up against her. Cradling her face. Oh my god.
“Ah… no, I’m sorry. That should wait until next time, you say,” and Chisato pulls back her hand, with a hint of a smile, and now Aya isn’t sure if she’s a tease, away with the booze fairies, or both. Aya nearly tries to grab at it and keep it there, but that feels like it could get risky.
“Yeah. Until next time.” For the first time in -- a while, now, or at least the past few minutes, her and Chisato aren’t touching each other, and Aya feels herself missing that little bit of physicality much more than she expected. Even she isn’t dumb enough to tell herself but when we touched it felt so right! this is what we’ve been waiting for! or act like she’ll have the confidence to even bring this up to Chisato again when she’s sobered up, but--
Chisato’s needy, Aya’s easily won over, and it’s nice to imagine she’ll do something more meaningful with her evening than just watch an idol livestream.
“…so, uhm, until then.” Fingers trembling and breath ragged, but otherwise totally as natural as can be, Aya leans over Chisato, hand scrabbling to clumsily brush Chisato’s fringe to the side, and then—puts a kiss there, just a little one, on her forehead.
...admittedly having completely messed up the ‘getting Chisato’s fringe out of the way’ bit, so that right now her lips are pressing up against more hair than actual head, but still.
On her end, Chisato just stares.
“...until then. Yes.” They share a small, understanding nod as Aya pulls away, and Aya feels that familiar sensation of being about to break out in a sudden fit of violent crying shoot right through her; and even though she’s trying to resist it she knows she’s got to look away from Chisato’s beautiful face if she’s going to have any hope of not blubbering over the one time in her life she’s been vaguely smooth.
“Ye… yeshhh…”
It’s not working.
(At least, two minutes later when her cheeks are red, raw and covered with the usual streaks, and Aya realises she’s missing her stream, Chisato lends her tissues this time.)