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Rumi grabbed Hawks shoulder, staring up at the tattoo parlor. “You’re serious about this?”
Hawks nodded. “I’m serious about him.”
Rumi sighed. “Hawks…”
“Don’t try and talk me out of it.”
“Do you know how people who remove tattoos stay in business? Shit like what you’re about to do.”
Hawks shook her off, taking another step closer to the entrance. “I swear he’s gonna love it.”
“You’re ridiculous-”
“And I’m even choosing his favorite tattoo artist, so it’s doubly cute.”
“Normally I’m super into this sort of spontaneous shit, but this-”
Hawks opened the door. “It’ll be great, you’ll see.”
Rumi was about to argue the point further when she looked through the door and saw the tattoo artist. Her mouth snapped shut, too distracted by this woman to continue her futile attempt to stop Hawks.
The tattoo artist looked young, and surprisingly soft. Weren’t tattoo artists supposed to be covered in tattoos and have some crazy undercut hairstyle? This one seemed to buck the trend, sporting reading glasses, long hair, and a blouse covered by a modest cardigan. At least her hair was bleached white, though red roots were coming in. Perhaps she had some tattoos underneath those clothes. Rumi tried not to think too hard about ways in which she could get those clothes off of her.
“Rumi?” Hawks asked, suddenly filling her vision.
Rumi snapped out of her stupor, focusing back on the task at hand. Be as supportive and sexy as possible for Hawks's worst decision ever, and maybe get this tattoo artist’s number. “Hawks, I believe in you.”
Hawks blinked at her, confused, but seemed to welcome the sudden change. “As you should.”
“What are you guys here for? Tattoos? Piercings?” The artist called out from a table, voice soft.
“Tattoo,” Hawks responded, approaching the table.
Rumi followed close behind, taking the chance to look at the woman more closely. Her face was gentle, with a calming smile. As Hawks and her discussed what he wanted, Rumi continued to stare, noting that not even her ears were pierced. If she didn’t have any piercings or tattoos, could they really trust her? Would she understand what it felt like to get a tattoo? Would she understand why Hawks's idea was so ridiculous?
“…So to start with, I want some wings on my back, like on my shoulder blades…”
That part was cool at least, and Rumi would normally have no argument about it. The fact that Hawks wanted it because his boyfriend called him his ‘angel’ and apparently had a huge boner for tattoos was cheesy, but manageable. No, the part Rumi was afraid of…
“…And on my chest, I want the text: ‘Dabi, marry me’.”
The artist stared. Rumi held her breath. Hawks kept a dopey grin on his face.
The artist took a deep breath. “…Just to be clear, you’re serious about ‘Dabi’?”
“So serious,” Hawks insisted, “It’s our two-year anniversary this weekend, and I want to surprise him.”
With bated breath, Rumi waited for the artist to describe all her previous clients who ended up dumped after tattooing their lover’s name over their chest. She waited for the artist to reiterate how permanent tattoos are. She waited for any semblance of reason from anyone other than herself.
“I have one condition,” The artist stated.
Hawks leaned in. “Oh?”
“Invite me to the wedding.”
Rumi’s heart dropped. Oh no. This was happening.
Hawks laughed loudly at that. “Consider yourself invited!”
The artist’s attention shifted from Hawks onto Rumi. “So is this your friend?”
Hawks nodded. “She’s gonna be my emotional support for the next couple of hours.”
Rumi looked at the artist’s deep gray eyes and brought up a hand to wave. “Yup, I’m Rumi!”
“Fuyumi,” The artist told her with a heart-stopping smile, “Nice to meet you.”
“So how did a girl like you end up in this business?” Rumi asked over Hawks, who was laid out on a table.
Fuyumi did not look away from her needle, carefully inking Hawks’ back, but she raised an eyebrow. “’A girl like me’?”
Rumi panicked for a moment, but Fuyumi had a light tone of voice that made her hope she hadn’t fucked up too bad. “I mean, I always imagine tattoo artists as people covered in tattoos and piercings.”
“How do you know I don’t have some under these clothes?”
Now Hawks, who was facing Rumi, gave her a raised eyebrow as if to ask, Are you about to flirt with my tattoo artist while I’m in pain?
Rumi squeezed his hand to tell him, Hell yes I am, and leaned to the side with a curious expression. “I’d love to see them if that’s the case.”
It was hard to see Fuyumi’s face considering she was closely peering at Hawks’ back, but Rumi thought she could see a faint red blush cover her cheeks. “Sorry to say you called it rightly, I haven’t got any.”
“So what led you to this career?”
“It was a bit of a surprise,” Fuyumi told her, “I had been into art when I was a kid, but my dad didn’t think that made for a viable career, so I tried to get into teaching for awhile.” She laughed, but her hands stayed steady. “I actually have a bachelor’s in education.”
“But you stuck with art?” Rumi leaned in, legitimately interested.
“More like art stuck with me. It helped me get through… some stuff,” Fuyumi continued on, not elaborating, “When I was a kid, I somehow ended up at a sleepover with my brother, and the host’s family had one of those do-it-yourself stick and poke machines.”
Rumi sure liked where this story was going; she grinned in anticipation.
“I ended up giving him a little tattoo on his side, just a silly little flame. I was very into doodling flames in my notebooks at the time. It was honestly not a great rendition, I had absolutely no technique when it came to drawing on skin instead of paper.”
“You were a kid, though,” Rumi interrupted.
Fuyumi laughed. “Sure was. And stick and pokes don’t last long.” Fuyumi’s mood dampened as she continued. “Awhile after that… some stuff happened, and my brother was gone for awhile. I didn’t see him for several years.”
That was surprisingly heavy. Rumi didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just waited for Fuyumi to continue.
“It’s complicated, but I ended up seeing him again eventually. And when I did, I discovered he had kept the tattoo,” Her voice became excited, “Apparently he had other people re-do it, refreshing it every time it started to fade. It was crazy, I hadn’t realized it was so meaningful to him. Then I felt bad that it kept fading, and I wondered how hard it was to get into tattoo-ing for real.”
“How hard was it?” Rumi asked, leaning in.
“Kind of hard. But not impossible. I was partway through college at the time, so I took a couple of art classes in addition to the education major requirements. Then after an apprenticeship and working under some folks for awhile, I was able to give my brother an actual tattoo.”
Rumi smiled. “That’s really sweet.”
“It is,” Fuyumi agreed.
“So you see your brother more now then?”
“Well…” She sighed. “He’s still hard to get a hold of. I usually end up seeing him every couple of months when he comes in here looking for another tattoo, but he’s pretty private about his new life. When he left our family, he even changed his name and stuff. I’m the only one he ever talks to, but he refuses to give me his phone number or any way to contact him.”
“Not gonna lie, he sounds kind of fucked up,” Rumi stated bluntly, realizing only afterwards that it could be considered rude.
Luckily, Fuyumi just laughed. “He is pretty fucked up, but it’s partially due to our family, so I can understand him cutting us out. I’m glad he at least sees me occasionally.”
Rumi had enough social grace to at least not pry into what was going on with Fuyumi’s family, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Hawks came to the rescue, “Rumi, I’m hurting over here, and you’re just chatting with the tattoo artist.”
Rumi rolled her eyes. “You’re a big baby, Hawks.”
“Nothing wrong with being able to feel pain,” Fuyumi cut in.
“Yeah, what she said,” Hawks agreed.
“You asked for it,” Rumi reminded him, “Despite my pleas against it.”
“Pleas against it?” Fuyumi asked curiously, “You against tattoos?”
“No!” Rumi rushed to defend herself. “I just think tattooing a marriage proposal on oneself is always a bad idea.”
“Never been in love?” Fuyumi asked.
“Nah,” Rumi decided to be subtle, “I’m not even dating anyone right now.” I’m very single and very available.
“Tattoos like that are more common than you think. I mean, I’ve never done a marriage proposal tattoo, but I’ve often done people’s names and faces.”
“And you just let people make a mistake like that?”
“It’s not a mistake if it works out. And worst case scenario, they come back and I get to tattoo a bunch of flowers over the name.”
“Would you ever tattoo your partner’s name on yourself?” Rumi asked, digging for information.
Fuyumi was quiet for a moment. “I’ve never had a partner.”
That made Rumi lick her lips. Fuyumi was single. She used the gender-neutral term ‘partner’. She was inexperienced, but that just meant Rumi might get to introduce her to some very nice activities. Her chances were looking decent. “That’s a surprise.”
“Oh?”
“You seem kind, dedicated, own your own business… the kind of gal anyone would be desperate to snatch up.”
“Most the population doesn’t agree.” Fuyumi’s brow furrowed. “Or at least, most the population I’m interested in doesn’t.”
Sounds kind of gay, Rumi thought. “Perhaps you need someone with good taste.”
“Like who?”
“Well, not to boast, but I-”
“Ow!”
Hawks’ exclamation made Fuyumi’s mood change immediately. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just pinched a bit more than usual.”
“I’ll be careful.”
As Fuyumi became laser-focused, brain 100% concentrated on keeping the pain at its minimum while creating the best image possible, Rumi glared at Hawks. Hawks gave her a pained smile in apology. She huffed and sat back, crossing her legs. They had such a good mood going, and Hawks just had to go and assert the fact that this was technically a tattoo appointment and not a bar to flirt in.
Rumi let it go with a sigh, looking at Hawks’ grimacing face. She had been sort of ignoring him, despite being the ‘emotional support’, hadn’t she? With a sigh, she gave his hand another squeeze. Maybe she ought to be a nicer friend for at least today. He glanced up, confused, and Rumi started an engaging conversation with him, keeping him from thinking about the way his back was being stabbed. She had to hold back from trying to distract Fuyumi again, recognizing it was maybe not smart to distract someone drawing a permanent image on her best friend.
Fuyumi became more chatty after the back was finished and they moved onto the relatively simple chest tattoo. The three of them continued to converse, and it was nice, but by the time it was all over Rumi didn’t feel like the mood was right to ask for Fuyumi’s number.
Maybe when Hawks inevitably came back to get a new tattoo to cover the words on his chest, Rumi could join him again and flirt. Yeah, it wouldn't be smart to rush too fast. Especially if Fuyumi was inexperienced, it would be polite to be a little slow. It definitely wasn’t because Rumi was scared in any way of being rejected by this cool, strangely normal tattoo artist.
She just had to wait until after this weekend, when Hawks proposed to Dabi in such a ridiculous way that an emotionally stunted commitmentphobe like Dabi would immediately recoil and dump Hawks on the side of the road, for Hawks to come crawling back to this studio. Yeah, that’s definitely what would happen.
Rumi stared at the wedding invitation. “What!”
Hawks grinned, bright and eager, made even more so by the backdrop of flowers hanging in baskets behind him. “He said yes!”
“Uh, congratulations! And now you guys are getting married? In…” She peered at the invitation, “…Three months?”
“We figured, why wait? Last night, after he said yes, we booked a venue and it was the earliest we could find!”
“You,” Rumi was still trying to wrap her head around it, “The perennial flirt, the fastest dude to run after a one-night stand, are doing wedding planning with your super sketchy, ‘I-don’t-have-a-family-or-a-past’ emo boyfriend?”
“Exactly!” Hawk’s eyes were sparkling.
Rumi buried her head on the counter. When Hawks entered her flower shop this morning, she was expecting a cry-fest, not… whatever this was. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m shocked.”
“Well you better recover quickly, because you’re about to get a bunch of work soon!”
Rumi lifted her head up. “Huh?”
“How would you feel about doing flowers for a wedding?”
So this was Rumi’s life now.
After several meetings with Hawks and Dabi, along with a couple of different caterers to coordinate themes, Rumi was now raising an excess of roses. White roses. Not that they would stay that way, for some ridiculous reason they wanted both white and black roses, so she planned to paint half of them black.
Rumi was still reeling from the knowledge that one of her friends was actually getting married. She found it hard to imagine. Hawks was younger than her. He used to party all the time, going home with whoever seemed like they wouldn’t call him the next day.
Now she was looking at his latest text, a picture of himself in a white suit with a gold tie. Look good? Dabi said he’s gonna wear black with blue accents.
Rumi didn’t know when things had changed. Now even if Hawks went out with her to bars, he would just end up going home at the end. No more late-night or early-morning phone calls where he complained or praised whoever he ended up laying that night. It was already strange to hear Hawks reference his ‘fiance’, she still struggled to imagine him in conversation mentioning his ‘husband’. Hawks wasn’t the husband type.
Rumi wasn’t the wife type.
She sent back a text, It looks great, Dabi’s gonna faint in the aisle.
Fine. Hawks could get married and settle down, (Oh lord what if he got kids. No way, Hawks wasn’t ready to be a father, and Dabi seems like the kind of guy with daddy issues,) have a tupperware party or whatever married couples do. Rumi could handle it, she was supportive. She wasn’t going to let her own crushing fear of commitment drag Hawks down.
He was excited. She’d never seen him so excited about someone. Rumi thought it would wear off, but they had been going strong for two years. Hawks took care of himself better, he smiled more, he seemed to look forward to each day. As weird as marriage seemed, Rumi couldn’t deny that whatever weird magic Dabi cast on him, it made Hawks better. Love?
Rumi couldn’t imagine it. Part of Hawks and her becoming friends was their similar behaviors. Rumi liked to prowl the gay bars, getting her kicks, and leaving the next day. The rare woman who compelled her to stick around for any longer than a night was dumped after a month. Maybe Hawks fell hard and fast, like Icarus getting too close to the sun, but Rumi was different. Rumi didn’t fall in love.
The door of her shop opened.
Fuyumi walked in.
It took a moment for Rumi to recognize her, but the bright white hair was unmistakable. Her roots had grown out a little further, creating a crown of red. Fuyumi’s eyes were focused on the flowers displayed by the front. Behind her were some red poppies, almost creating a halo around her. She peered closely at a bouquet, squinting behind her glasses. One delicate (talented, artistic) hand reached out to waft the smell, waving the air up into her nose. After some sniffs, she grinned with satisfaction at the scent. Her head turned, scanning deeper into the shop, before pausing when her eyes met Rumi’s.
Fuyumi smiled, bright and warm.
Rumi gulped.
“Hey! You’re Rumi, right?”
Rumi mentally kicked herself. Stop staring, respond to her. “Yup! And you’re…” Rumi pretended she had to think about it before ‘remembering’ her name, “…Fuyumi, right?”
“Yeah, good memory!” Fuyumi continued smiling.
Rumi didn’t know what to say. She felt strangely tongue-tied. She was out of sorts, not quite in her element. Maybe if they were at a bar and Rumi was a few drinks in, it’d be different, but this was bright daylight. Rumi was technically working right now.
…Was this karma for Rumi flirting at Fuyumi’s workplace?
Fuyumi looked Rumi up and down. Rumi was a bit embarrassed by her own apron and gloves, it clashed with her short skirt and tank top, but it was part of the uniform and honestly helped a lot when taking care of the plants. “Do you work here?”
“Yup!” Rumi responded quickly, popping the ‘p’.
Fuyumi gave the slightest smirk. “So how did a girl like you end up in this business?”
Rumi’s heart thudded. Fuyumi remembered their conversation, too? “’A girl like me’?”
Fuyumi took a step closer, glancing around at the flowers. “I feel like most florists tend to be soft-spoken and gentle. You seem awfully bold, not to mention…” Fuyumi focused her gaze on Rumi’s body. “Maybe flower stems are tougher than I think, but I don’t think most florists need the muscles of a body builder.”
Rumi blushed, and rushed to think of a response before Fuyumi could see Rumi was getting flustered by the attention. “I used to be a cop.”
That made Fuyumi’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”
“For a bunch of years. But the culture wasn’t great, and I prefer working alone, so I opened up this shop.” Rumi looked around, just so she wouldn’t seem obsessed for staring at Fuyumi the whole time. “It’s small, but it’s all mine.”
“It’s very pretty.”
“Thanks!” Rumi held back from tapping her foot from nerves.
What was Fuyumi even doing here?
“…So why are you in a flower shop?” Rumi asked, “Looking for inspiration?”
Fuyumi shook her head. “I actually want to order flowers for a wedding I was invited to.”
Rumi nodded, getting into work mode. “Alright, do you know what kind of flowers you want?”
“I’ve heard there’s a flower language, right? Is there stuff that means… ‘forgiveness’?”
“Hmm… There are some flowers, purple hyacinths, yellow roses… but that seems like a weird message for a wedding.”
Fuyumi shifted her weight on her feet. “In all honesty, I’m sort of a surprise guest? I kind of negotiated my way into the wedding, so I feel a bit bad for intruding…”
A memory of the day Hawks got his tattoo surfaced in Rumi’s brain. “Wait a second, is this for Hawks’ and Dabi’s wedding?”
Fuyumi laughed, raising her hands up in surrender. “You caught me.”
Rumi grinned. “You should have said so. I’m doing the flowers for the wedding, so let me choose something that will go with their theme as well…”
Rumi walked Fuyumi through possible bouquets, until they narrowed it down to something nice. Fuyumi seemed pretty insistent on the whole forgiveness thing, so Rumi included yellow roses in there. It would be nice to have something different from the white and black ones the happy couple wanted.
By the end, Fuyumi was thanking her profusely. “You’ve been so helpful, you’re a wonderful florist, thank you so much-”
“Aw, you’re too sweet. Come in anytime, I mean it.”
“And I can pick it up the morning of the wedding?”
“Yup! Make sure you come on time, ‘cause I gotta leave early in the morning as well to set up for the wedding myself.”
Fuyumi bowed. “I can’t thank you enough-”
“Come on, raise your head,” Rumi insisted, “It’s the least I can do, considering you helped Hawks propose.”
Fuyumi smiled, and Rumi’s stomach did flips. What was it about Fuyumi that made Rumi want to keep seeing those smiles? “Well, I suppose I’ll see you at the wedding then.”
Rumi gulped. She hoped there would be alcohol at the reception. “See you then!”
The wedding was beautiful.
It wasn’t huge, but there was enough space for some of Dabi’s wild friends. Rumi recognized a few folks who she arrested back in the day. She wasn’t a cop anymore, but if they somehow messed up this wedding she was going to beat them up. Luckily, it seemed they were as eager to see Dabi happy as Rumi was to see Hawks happy, and everyone behaved well enough.
By coincidence, Fuyumi ended up seated right next to Rumi. Coincidence, or Hawks trying to play matchmaker? Rumi wasn’t going to complain.
When the two of them recited vows, even Rumi, as stubborn as she wanted to be about how silly the pomp and circumstance was, teared up a little. It didn’t help that next to her, Fuyumi actually had tears running down her cheeks. She had to be a very empathetic person to be crying over two people she didn’t really know finding happiness together.
At the reception afterwards, it became a bit more clear why Fuyumi was crying. Also clear why Fuyumi wanted flowers that meant forgiveness.
“How did you even know about this? How did you even get in?” Dabi spoke strangely to Fuyumi, aggravated and yet holding back. Dabi never held back for anyone. Fuyumi seemed non-perturbed by the grumpiness.
Hawks, an arm affectionately around his new husband’s waist, butted in, “I invited her!”
Dabi turned to glare. “How do you even know her?”
“She did my tattoo, remember? Including the proposal?”
Dabi’s jaw dropped. “And so you invited her?”
“I mean, yeah?” Hawks raised a hand in defense, “She asked if she could come, and I figured you wouldn’t mind your favorite tattoo artist coming around. You’ve said she’s great.”
“He said I’m great?” Fuyumi exclaimed.
Dabi jabbed a finger at Fuyumi. “You, ‘Yumi, are a schemer.”
She grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
Rumi was still confused by Dabi’s extreme reaction at his tattoo artist being invited. Hawks seemed to be, too. “Come on, Dabi, why’s it such a big deal?”
Dabi glowered and shut his lips, unwillingly to articulate.
Fuyumi sighed and adopted a tone of only slight passive-aggressiveness. “I’m sorry I wanted to see my own brother’s wedding, Dabi.”
Hawks and Rumi both gasped. Dabi let out a long-suffering sigh.
“This is the brother who kept your tattoo and inspired you to do it as a career?” Rumi asked, still shocked.
Dabi bristled, face getting red, “You told them that story?”
“It’s a very sweet story!” Fuyumi insisted.
“I can’t believe I didn’t meet your family until after we got married,” Hawks commented.
“Technically we met when I tattooed you,” Fuyumi reminded him.
“Huh, I guess so. But I didn’t know you were Dabi’s sister.”
Dabi tugged at Hawks. “Look, you guys can talk more later. We gotta talk to other folks, too.”
It seemed like a pretty clear ‘I-don’t-want-to-confront-my-past-right-now’, considering Dabi normally had no interest in social graces, but it was supposed to be a happy day, so the rest of them let him escape. That left Rumi alone with Fuyumi.
Fuyumi sighed. “I’m glad he’s not too mad about me crashing.”
Rumi couldn’t imagine what kind of drama their family had been through. Although Hawks didn’t tell her details about Dabi’s childhood, he had implied that it was not a happy one. A strange desire to comfort Fuyumi was pulled out from Rumi’s depths. She wasn’t even sure how one went about comforting a woman she didn’t really know about her estranged brother, but she felt like she had to try. “Wanna drown your sorrow at the bar?”
They drank for awhile, Fuyumi’s tongue getting looser as the night went on. “…So I guess it was bad, but running away…? I dunno, maybe I should have run away too… But there were still my two little brothers, I couldn’t abandon them. And stuff got better, Dad actually changed. I’ve tried to tell Dabi that a few times, when he’s come by for tattoos… but he can’t forgive Dad for the stuff he did.”
Rumi ached in a way she didn’t understand. This sweet woman didn’t deserve to have to go through all those horrible things, to have to make such hard decisions as a child and suffer the way she did. She wished she could somehow go into the past and change everything so Fuyumi could have gotten the childhood she deserved.
“Ugh, it’s too complicated,” Fuyumi leaned on the palm of her hand, swaying slightly, “I’m so sorry, I’m being a total downer, aren’t I?”
“I mean, yes, but I still want to hear it,” Rumi tried not to lie, but she didn’t want Fuyumi to think she was irritated or anything.
Tears welled up in Fuyumi’s eyes. “You’re so nice.”
Uh-oh. Rumi rubbed her back, “Hey, hey, let’s not cry at the bar-”
Fuyumi sobbed. “I interrupted his wedding, and now I’m ruining the Maid of Honor’s night…”
“Aw, no, Fuyumi,” Rumi pulled her into a half hug, trying to quiet the sobs and draw less attention, “I’m having a great night!”
The crying only seemed to get louder. “How?”
Some people were looking now. Oof, this was not a good look at a wedding. Rumi carefully pulled Fuyumi out of her seat, leading her outside through the back door. It was late summer, and the nights were still warm enough that they didn’t need a coat to sit on the steps of a fire escape.
Fuyumi was still crying, so Rumi pulled her into a hug. There were more apologies, but they were muffled by Rumi’s shoulder.
As Fuyumi calmed down, she started to hiccup, and Rumi struggled to hold back a smile at how adorable the noises were. She wondered what other noises Fuyumi could make. Rumi internally chastised herself: Fuyumi was distraught, Rumi had to stop being horny for at least two seconds.
…Had Rumi even been that horny though? She had been legitimately engaged listening to Fuyumi’s story, and all she really wanted to do was keep holding Fuyumi as long as she would let her. She thought about doing more, and flushed. So maybe she also wanted to do other things, but she would be happy with just this as well, letting her dress get soaked with tears and snot while Fuyumi unloaded her feelings.
Eventually Fuyumi stopped crying and pulled back from Rumi’s embrace. “…Thank you.”
Rumi grinned, hoping to draw another smile from her. “Any time.”
“Ugh.” Fuyumi face-palmed. “Sorry, I’m drunk, I shouldn’t have made you comfort me like that.”
Rumi grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away so she could look at Fuyumi’s face. “I’m glad to do it.”
Fuyumi stared at her. “…You have very pretty eyes.”
The sudden subject change made Rumi blink.
Fuyumi’s face, already red from crying, grew even redder. “Sorry, I’m still drunk- That was weird- I shouldn’t-”
“Your eyes are pretty, too,” Rumi interrupted, staring.
“…You’re very nice.”
“Nah, I just have good taste.”
Fuyumi licked her lips. “R-Rumi, are you… flirting with me?”
“Weren’t you flirting with me at my flower shop?”
“Weren’t you flirting with me at my tattoo parlor?”
Rumi decided she had to admit it by now. “I’ll confess that yes, I was flirting.”
“Then I’ll admit I was also flirting.”
“Then you should know I’m flirting a bit now, even though you might not be in the mood-”
“You’re changing my mood right now.”
Rumi’s breath quickened. “Am I?”
“If you’re willing to kiss someone who dragged you away from a wedding reception and cried all over you…”
Her patience was up. Rumi dove in, pulling Fuyumi closer to meet their lips. There was a squeak of surprise before Fuyumi relaxed into it, wrapping her arms around Rumi. Rumi’s heart was pounding against her chest, trying to leap out of her throat in joy. She tried not to go too fast, but when Fuyumi pulled her in closer and licked against her lips she couldn’t help but open her mouth and meet their tongues. As they continued to kiss, a desperate haze fell over Rumi and she felt she could spend hours like this, exploring Fuyumi’s mouth.
When Fuyumi pulled back, Rumi whined at the loss of heat. Rumi was probably as red in the face as Fuyumi was by now, though the evening air was chillier than it had been when they first came out. “We- we should continue this somewhere else,” Fuyumi said, voice breathless.
Rumi perked up. “My apartment is close by.”
The next morning, Rumi squeezed the person next to her tightly. There was sunlight streaming in the windows.
Her eyes snapped open. It was morning already, and she hadn’t left in the middle of the night. To be fair, it was Rumi’s apartment, but she also hadn’t kicked out her lay.
She glanced at the culprit. Fuyumi.
She remembered the events of the evening. The wedding, the reception, the kiss, the intimacy they had indulged in last night… Something about the memories made her flush. She couldn’t understand why.
She slept with plenty of people, but they didn’t make her heart flip the way Fuyumi did. There was something about the walking contradiction that fascinated Rumi. Tattoo artist with no tattoos. Someone with a shitty childhood who came out of it being nice to people instead of lashing out. Someone soft who had gone through such a hard life.
Her hands ran through Fuyumi’s hair fondly. Rumi had been with many people with dyed hair, but she didn’t want to know their whole history. She didn’t want to know what had compelled them to color their hair.
She wanted to know why Fuyumi had dyed it. Why she was letting the roots grow out.
But Fuyumi was still asleep, and Rumi didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She had a peaceful expression on, and Rumi decided Fuyumi deserved peace wherever she could get it. She curled closer to Fuyumi, and when Fuyumi unconsciously shifted to hold Rumi closer, a strange sense of elation burst through Rumi’s chest.
This felt different. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want Fuyumi to leave.
She let out a quiet sigh. Was this how Hawks had been ensnared? Getting intrigued by someone and waking up one morning without the urge to run away? Who knew? She certainly wasn’t getting answers from him until after his honeymoon was over.
So she simply closed her eyes again, enjoying Fuyumi’s embrace. She wanted to stick around a little longer.