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Akamatsu’s soft hands are threading through Iruma’s delicate hair, and Iruma wonders what she did in another life to deserve something like this.
“Miu,” Akamatsu murmurs, and suddenly Iruma feels sensitive to every touch. Every moment Akamatsu’s skin presses against her own, every slight tug of her hair as Akamatsu’s fingers slide through it, every gentle movement —Iruma can feel it all. “Miu… you have such a pretty name.”
“Don’t wear it out,” Iruma mumbles, leaning into Akamatsu’s touch. Akamatsu’s dormitory is rather plain, to say the least. There’s almost nothing special, save for the many pictures of Akamatsu with her friends that Akamatsu loves to hang up. For some reason, Akamatsu has several pictures of Iruma, too. They’re dating, so it’s normal, of course—but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right for someone to treasure Iruma the way Akamatsu does.
Akamatsu gives a short, breathy laugh. They’re both tired. Messy sleep schedules and essays due every other day have finally caught up to them, and now they’re fighting to stay awake at all. “I won’t,” Akamatsu says softly, almost like a promise. “You should probably call me Kaede, though.”
“Kaediot suits you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Akamatsu mutters, letting out a sound that would sound more like a laugh if both of them weren’t so exhausted. Iruma can feel Akamatsu’s smile against her neck as Akamatsu stops combing her fingers through Iruma’s hair and instead leans forward to place her head on Iruma’s shoulder from behind. It’s something small and special—something Iruma doesn’t deserve.
“Tired already?” Iruma mocks, acting like she’s not on the verge of collapsing into a much needed sleep as well.
“Yeah,” Akamatsu answers. “If I go to sleep now, though, my sleep schedule will only get worse. I have to force myself to stay awake.”
“Whatever,” Iruma mumbles, too tired to direct an insult her girlfriend’s way. “I don’t care about sleep schedules. If it’s gonna get fucked up in the end, might as well not put myself through hell to try and fix it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Akamatsu ponders. “Maybe I should just go to sleep now and then do what I need to do at night. It’ll end up like that eventually, anyway—we’re both bad at time management.”
Iruma laughs, short and low. “Tell me about it, Bakamatsu.”
“Kaede,” Akamatsu corrects.
“Kaediot,” Iruma shoots back, wearing a grin that Akamatsu can’t even see.
Akamatsu lifts her head from Iruma’s shoulder and instead allows Iruma to relax and lie against Akamatsu’s legs. Iruma looks up from where her head is resting on Akamatsu’s knees and finds that they can now see each other’s faces.
“You’re beautiful,” Akamatsu tells her, words dripping with a disgusting sincerity that Iruma wishes didn’t have to exist. Iruma doesn’t deserve a single thing Akamatsu’s given her.
“I’m not.” The words are short and clipped, but Iruma isn’t upset with Akamatsu. She’s upset with herself. She’s upset that she isn’t good enough. She’s upset that she’ll never be able to take a compliment because she’ll always know about how she doesn’t deserve it.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Akamatsu says lightly, voice overflowing with exhaustion.
“Then your eyes are broken,” Iruma retorts, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.
Akamatsu shakes her head. “I think you’re beautiful, Miu. But I also think that I’m tired, and I need some sleep.” Akamatsu fully lies down on her bed, and Iruma rises from where she was lying against Akamatsu. Iruma looks unsure of where she should go—but before she can get up and make an excuse to leave, Akamatsu pats the spot beside her on the bed.
“Lie down,” Akamatsu suggests. “We could both use some sleep.”
Iruma feels as if this would be a good time to act like how she usually does and find something suggestive to say. But she doesn’t feel like it—she doesn’t feel like doing anything at all. So she nods and scrambles over to Akamatsu’s side and lazily settles herself in.
“Good night,” Akamatsu whispers.
“It’s the afternoon.”
“You know what I mean,” Akamatsu mutters, shifting her position so that her head is lying against Iruma’s chest. Iruma’s breath hitches. Akamatsu’s eyes flutter shut after a short moment, and not long after that Iruma hears soft snoring. Iruma brings a hand over to Akamatsu’s head, and this time it’s Iruma who’s threading her fingers through Akamatsu’s hair.
Iruma soon falls asleep to Akamatsu’s steady breathing.