Work Text:
Once more, it’s Komaru and her old friend—silence.
Except not quite.
Following this rather contradictory thought is the sound of her companion muttering in her sleep, slender fingers twitching at the covers and Komaru wonders if she’s having a nightmare.
Fukawa sleeps so stiffly. She’s curled in on herself as if attempting to shield her face with the entirety of her arched body. Her eyes are pressed together so tightly and even in her dreams, her forehead’s creased with all the worries she carries—real, and imaginary. Komaru’s seized with the most ridiculous notion.
For a wild, fleeting moment…she wants to kiss her.
The thought leaves as suddenly as it arrived, prompting Komaru to stare off into the night in utter bafflement. Outside, the world’s being torn to pieces by black and white bears with steel claws and iron jaws. But here, in their hideaway for the night, the only sound is the shaky rasp of Fukawa’s breathing.
She supposes even the forces of Despair have to sleep.
It’s a little hard to tell if the older girl enjoys her company, Komaru thinks idly to herself, watching a plume of smoke rise in the moonlight. The window’s cracked and she’s ready to grab her gun at the slightest hint of insidious red, but no. It’s just a smoldering building with battered neon signs, drenched entirely in monochrome paint.
Finally obtaining her freedom only to find the disaster the world’s become—it’s a cruel irony, and Komaru’s so scared. But there’s something good here, she decides. Something she didn’t realize she even missed to this degree.
Fukawa grumbles again, scraping her nails across her pillow. The motion upsets her nearby glasses and they slide along the mattress just a bit. Komaru reaches over and pushes them back into place. It’s not that simple though. She can’t quite draw her hand away now that they’re hovering so close to Fukawa’s frowning face; the temptation’s ridiculously strong, and in the end she gives in to it.
Her hair’s messy. Komaru supposes she can’t blame her for not caring enough to fix it, what with danger being around every corner. She tucks several untidy strands behind her ear, and keeps going, fascinated by the sensation. It’s been so long since she’s seen anyone else and feeling those furrows in her brows smooth out beneath her fingers…
It’s nice.
Fukawa’s expression has relaxed ever so slightly—that satisfies her for now, because she’s not willing to face her wrath, should she wake up the other girl. Komaru wraps her arms around her knees and looks around the ruined room they’re taking refuge in. Despite the fact it gave their enemies a potential spyhole, Fukawa had torn down the curtains that had once adorned the window.
She isn’t fond of the dark, it seems.
That’s all right, because Komaru isn’t fond of being alone. She finally reclines in bed, her eyes drifting from the ceiling, to the window, and back again to the girl beside her. She tells herself her thoughts make no sense. She tells herself she’s ridiculous. She’s so attentive and interested and in awe of Fukawa because it’s been forever and a day since she’s spoken to someone who didn’t exist inside her own head.
That has to be it.
Komaru closes her eyes and tries not to listen to the sound of Fukawa’s breathing—she ends up counting each exhale until sleep claims her.