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Despite her unwillingness, Ann spares no mercy at dragging Shiho from their apartment and out to the local park.
Apparently, it isn’t acceptable to spend most of her free time dedicated to her job that hasn’t technically even started yet, but Shiho is nothing if not prepared, even if she seems more like a sports person than an academic.
Along with that, though, is the fact that Ann just recently returned from an overseas business trip. Her energy is even more restless than she remembers.
“I’m so glad to finally have some time off,” Ann sighs, leaning against Shiho while wrapped around her arm.
As much as she wouldn’t like to complain about loving affection after being separated for most of a few months, the leverage Ann holds against her in height and weight is starting to wear on her.
“I know you’re having fun, but don’t take me down with you,” she says, laughing, and Ann leans back onto her own feet. She’s still clinging, though.
There’s a slight chill of wind, the depth of winter omnipresent with an overcast blanket of cloud enveloping the sky. It’s certainly not ideal for taking a walk in, but time is precious, and Shiho has a scarf. Eventually, Ann loosens up enough to be satisfied with just holding hands.
Glancing over, Shiho isn’t subtle enough and Ann catches her, giving her a wide smile.
“Enjoying the view?” She teases, reaching over to poke at her other side.
“You know it,” Shiho retorts, grabbing her arm to try and keep her away.
It’s terrible that Ann can use her weakness against her. Thankfully, no one is near them on the path as a struggle quickly ensues. Shiho giggles when Ann manages to reach her sides, a victory, but her triumph is short-lived with Shiho elbowing her, then pushing both of them to land in the nearby grass, shouting.
Ann’s on the ground first, eyes wide and arms wrapped around Shiho who landed mostly on top of her. She’s silent for another bewildered moment until she bursts into laughter. Shiho quickly joins her, rolling off onto her back.
“Well, you win this round,” Ann says after they get a hold of themselves, sitting up and brushing bits of dead leaves off her clothes.
Watching as Ann lets her ridiculously thick hair out of its ponytail, and then her slender fingers versus thick, wavy blonde hair, and her smile-grimace when she hits a snag, Shiho’s struck by a wave of fondness. Sometimes it really is that simple.
Her own hair is easier to brush through, long since cut to just past her ears. She’s up first to extend a hand, pulling Ann up.
“Wow, you’re so strong,” she says, fake swooning with the back of her hand against her forehead, and Shiho huffs a laugh.
“You could always go on another tumble in the grass,” Shiho threatens, but it barely has any bite, a playful smile on her face.
“Oh no, anything but that. Please spare me,” Ann pleads, clasping both of Shiho’s hands in her own.
They laugh together again, but drop the joke once Ann checks her phone, seeing that it’s getting closer to dinnertime. As the one who dragged them outside, she’s reluctant. Still, Ann can’t hide her stomach’s growling at the prospect of a home cooked meal from Shiho, celebrating her return.
The first person they encounter while going back is an old lady and her small dog, and the brief pleasantries they exchange are both mundane and adrenaline inducing. Even now, with arms locked casually, that normalcy in itself is a rush.
She almost forgot about it, and in the next second she’s hyperaware. Even the wind hadn’t woken her up, but now it’s like she’s realizing for the first time that day of Ann’s closeness, and winter, the chill, means nothing as she feels her face heat up. It extends through her arms, to her fingers, through her chest, and Ann can probably feel how tense she’s suddenly gotten, but she doesn’t say a word about it.
Just as they’re finally about to leave the park, Shiho happens to look up, then crushes Ann’s arm more in excitement.
“Look! It’s snowing!”
True to her word, lazy snowflakes are beginning to drift down from the sky. It won’t be enough to stick, but Shiho’s beaming nonetheless, holding a hand out to catch one. When one finally lands, she pulls back to watch it melt into the palm of her hand.
Ann isn’t nearly as impressed, but still grins along at Shiho’s enthusiasm.
“I can make cocoa for us when we get home, if you want.”
“… Only if by that you mean you’ll get Akira to come over and make it.”
Shiho gets absolutely no cocoa that night.
---
Though the snow has long since stopped, the clouds still remain. It’s nearly pitch black as Shiho tiptoes out into the kitchen, slowly finding her way, one hand against the wall and the other outstretched to feel for anything in her path. She eventually finds the table, delicately sliding out a chair and flipping open the laptop she’d left there. It spills some much-needed light into the room, but she squints at it, turning the brightness down as far as it’ll go.
After it’s one setting shy of turning the screen off completely, she looks back towards their bedroom. Then, the sound of a snore cuts in through the late-night silence. Putting a hand over her mouth, she tries not to laugh. Sneaking out would be pointless if she gave herself away now.
Ann is, even on the best of nights, an incredibly light sleeper. But, after getting the full experience of Shiho’s signature sukiyaki, and then dessert, blueberry cheesecake bought from Ann’s favourite cake shop, she could probably sleep for a whole week.
Shiho, on the other hand, typically knocks out for a solid eight hours, or not at all. It’s her greatest enemy, as much as fatigue might cling at the edges of her conscious, kept at bay by aching thoughts, backgrounds anxieties, or unpleasant memories surfacing to torment her.
Ideally, with Ann back, she’d love to just curl up into her, fall asleep, and wake up in the morning to her ridiculous bedhead, expression twisted at the prospect of getting up and being a person before she pulls the covers back over her head. A simple wish, but that’s not happening evidently.
For now, she focuses on her current work; a lesson plan, notes and reminders in each section. Some are empty spaces marked to fill in further information, some side notes as a reminder to check respective textbooks and page numbers.
The unfinished bits are actually few and far between, and it’s mostly her reading through each line carefully, not double-checking, or even triple-checking, but simply one of many times she’s gone back over it. It’s for her first real teaching position, a job secured as a middle school homeroom teacher. A mentor in charge of children’s futures, directing them in some of the most crucial moments of their life. So much could go wrong, and at the very least, she has to make sure this portion of it is nailed down to perfection.
The weight is even heavier, knowing firsthand how terribly such a position of responsibility can be misused.
She tries to push away from dragging thoughts, focusing intently onto the next subject, Japanese Literature. Her intensity is a double-edged sword, because when a hand lands on her shoulder, she jumps, hitting the table with her knee and shrieking.
“Oh my god- sorry, Shiho, it’s just me, don’t scream.”
The glow of the laptop screen illuminates Ann’s face, and Shiho drops herself back into the chair.
“You could’ve called out for me, or something,” she starts, gingerly poking at the knee she just hit to check if it might end up bruising. Sure enough, she reaches one spot that turns out to be sore, and hisses lightly at the pain.
Not that she isn’t used to injuries, as a volleyball player and in general, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.
“I did. You must’ve been in the zone, or something. Sorry for scaring you,” she says softly, placing her hands on Shiho’s shoulders and rubbing gentle circles with her thumb. The massage is a welcome relief, and Ann laughs as Shiho repositions herself for Ann to reach more of her back.
“Y’know, we could just do this in bed, and maybe you’d fall asleep,” Ann suggests, resting her hands on her shoulders. “What do you think?”
Plainly, it’s an easy solution. Better than keeping her girlfriend up all night to massage her back at the kitchen table. But she knows her worries will start eating at her again, and in two hours she’ll end up in the same spot, continuing to obsessively pour over the curriculum.
Shiho is saved from having to respond though, when there’s a sound at the door; the jingle of keys, the lock catching and scraping open- all to reveal a flood of dim light from outside when the door opens, and the silhouette behind it.
The light is cut off again when the door gets shut, but the entrance light is flicked on soon after, and it’s much brighter.
“Ah, home sweet home- Shit!” Ryuji swears, with the sudden realization of Ann and Shiho in the kitchen, squinting at him. A hand is held up to his chest in surprise, and he drops his bag on the ground. “Wow, were you, uh, waiting for me? You didn’t have to.”
There’s a nervous grin on his face as he jokes. Ann turns fully to him, crossing her arms and sighing.
“Do you know what time it is? Not that you have a curfew, but seriously.”
Still grinning, he reaches a hand in his pants’ pocket.
“Well, it says here on my phone- … that it’s dead, so I have no clue, actually.”
“3am,” Shiho offers, glancing at the corner of her laptop screen.
Ryuji snaps his finger and points in her direction.
“Yup, that sounds about right! 3am!”
Even as Ann stands unflinchingly with arms crossed, her question a rhetorical one, Shiho can’t help but feel amusement, a smile and the ghost of a laugh under her breath.
“Whatever, as long as you don’t make this a habit. You’re so loud, if we weren’t already awake then we definitely would be now.”
“That’s so not fair! You know I work late, and I’m not that noisy! All I did was walk in the door!”
As their bickering continues and then dies down, quick enough once they’ve reached as much of an understanding as they’re capable of, Shiho rests a cheek against her palm, yawning.
“You were getting on my case, but why are you two awake?” He asks, looking over at her. His tone is more genuine than accusatory.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Shiho mumbles. While she’s already tired from lack of sleep, their almost sibling-like squabbles are good at sapping her energy even more, as much as they entertain her. This isn’t the first time he’s caught her awake at a ridiculous time of night, of course, with his night job. Still, it’s nice that he’s laying on the concern. She could always count on him for that, regardless of how brash he could act at times.
With all of them at their limit of tiredness, the gathering is short lived; Ryuji picks his bag up, heading for his room, while Ann gently tugs the laptop away from Shiho, making sure everything is saved before she closes it.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Like make some tea, or talk until you pass out, or-”
“It’s okay now, probably,” Shiho tries to smile, but it’s interrupted by another yawn, and she reaches up to cover her mouth.
Ann smiles quietly, and leads her back to their own room.
Of course, it’s not that easy, because even as Shiho lies down she can already feel her head clearing again. Not to the capacity that she can think, but enough to force her brain to keep on whirring despite every insistence against it.
It doesn’t take Ann long to roll over towards her.
“Are you still awake?”
Her eyes are closed, but she hums an affirmation.
“I guess it’s probably because I’m back and threw off your routine.” There’s a sigh in her voice, and Shiho immediately turns to face her.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Is there something bothering you, then?”
The question is so broad Shiho almost wants to joke, “What isn’t bothering me?” That’s something she can unleash on her therapist the next time she goes, though. Instead, she moves to lie on her back again. It’s easier to speak when it feels like she’s talking into the void of their dark room.
“I just don’t wanna mess this up.”
It’s simple enough, explaining her general thoughts without going into too much detail.
“... I feel like you’re obsessed with that. And I mean, I understand, but Shiho, you’ll be so good to those kids. There’s no way to be perfect, but you don't have to be.”
Ann reaches out, searching for her hand under their shared blanket, and it doesn’t take her long to find. Shiho squeezes.
“I know, you’ve said that so much already, but like. I can’t.”
“Do you want to stop, then?”
Shiho’s trying to keep her breathing even, but with everything weighing on her, it’s barely enough to keep from choking up.
“You’ve done similar jobs before, right, so what’s got you so scared this time?”
She doesn’t have an easy answer this time, and she’s grateful that Ann accepts her into her arms, letting her bury her face into Ann’s collar. She doesn’t hear what Ann says next, but the soft tone of her voice is soothing, and before long she finds herself finally, truly drifting off into sleep.
---
The next morning is much more forgiving when she wakes up to Ann’s smile, a fitting replacement for the sun that’s still hidden by clouds. She almost forgot what it felt like. There's a simple beauty in it, not as much related to Ann's looks, but the quiet moment shared between them, where nothing else can touch them.
Predictably, rest helps her feel more balanced than she would’ve been. There’s the other sense of balance, though, that Ann mentioned in her own show of worry, words echoing in Shiho’s head from the night before.
When Shiho distracts her from making crepes, Ann getting batter on Shiho’s cheek as they lean against each other and kiss, she can’t think of any better way to find equilibrium.
… Even if Ryuji does barge in moments after, gleefully demanding pancakes.